Galina left work three days after her strange encounter with the green-light boy and still felt like everything was surreal—and by everything, she really meant everything.
First, she confirmed with a friend of hers who had a degree in everything related to synthetic compounds that the painkillers she'd been taking did in fact have severe side effects. Neural system degeneration was just one of them, and within months, she would've ended up hospitalized.
Her blood ran cold—not just because she'd dodged a death like that, but because of what could have happened to Sasha if anything had gone wrong.
Galina wasn't going to sue Biotechnica. She wasn't that naive.
By the time her complaint reached the court, the company would already be working on ensuring she never got to testify—and either minimize or outright bury the repercussions of such a discovery.
So she anonymously leaked the information, backed with a detailed lab report, to several fixers who hated the company for various reasons. She washed her hands of it, letting them do as they pleased with it.
She had no doubt that in a few days, the company would pop up on various news channels and its stocks would drop—not enough to bankrupt them, but enough to make their kidneys ache from the losses.
Because, as the kid said, Securicine was very profitable for them.
Now, about her visit to the doc...
"These results are impossible!" the doctor shouted after running several tests and reviewing the data on the screen. "I knew I shouldn't have bought this discounted batch of equipment from that woman. It must be defective!" he complained, kicking what looked like an extremely expensive scanner—and breaking his pinky toe in the process.
From what she understood, not only had her body healed the neural damage, but older chronic issues—such as mild inflammation in her implant connections, poor blood quality, degradation of her optical nerves, and more—were now so healthy it was medically impossible.
It was as if she had always been organic, with no health issues. Her body didn't even recognize the implants as foreign and thus didn't reject them.
Given the results, the doctor begrudgingly gave her a discount in exchange for keeping her mouth shut—reputation was everything in his profession. Meanwhile, he deleted the "obviously faulty, logically nonsensical" medical report and started packing up the defective gear to dismantle and sell whatever parts were still usable, hoping to replace his medical tools ASAP.
He didn't even wait for her to leave—though watching him limp around with a bandaged foot was funny!
This was Night City, after all—finding comfort in others' suffering was practically hereditary.
In fact, when Galina saw the results and confirmed that her improvement was real and not temporary, her next thought was to "clean up" the doctor. But since the man had taken the initiative to destroy all the evidence in a fit of rage, she let him carry on with his life.
Though she would have to find someone else more reliable. If she went back and the new equipment gave the same results...
Well, that would be future Galina's headache.
Her return to work was exactly what she expected—lots of yelling from the boss until he got tired and sent her back to her post. Halfway through her shift, as she went for her third coffee (or the slop they dared to call that), she opened the next message in her queue and was surprised to see it wasn't from some whining client.
[The coordinates of the green package are XXX…]
By the time she finished reading, the message disappeared on its own. No matter how much she checked her inbox or message history, there was no trace of it.
"Of course… if he knew about my condition, he'd know about my job too…" she sighed, annoyed by the huge information gap between them.
Still, her gut told her there was more to this than met the eye.
"Does the kid have a netrunner helping him?" Galina didn't need much brainpower to guess what the "green package" referred to. But she hadn't expected them to contact her at work instead of her personal email. "So, at least two people are working together."
Given the kid's lack of implants and young age, Galina doubted he could prepare a self-deleting message like that on his own. Which meant someone else was helping him—but judging by the simplicity of the message, that person was probably a rookie too. One who surprisingly did a decent job.
She checked the marked location and went back to work.
Now that she was finally done, it was time to see what kind of surprise awaited her.
Galina put on her protective jumpsuit, hopped on her bike, tied up her hair to safely fit her helmet, and sped off toward the designated point.
It didn't take long to get there—her bike's small size let her take shortcuts through the city—and ever since her recovery, her reflexes had felt sharper than ever.
"Alright, let's see what surprise you've got for me."
Her current location was an abandoned sewer outlet in a shallow canal—one that, despite having several pipes connected at the top, had no running water and not even a bad smell.
"Weird that no squatters have claimed this place."
If someone blocked off the entry via the narrow stairs, they could have a space nearly twice the size of a megatower apartment.
And without in-home ads! That alone would be rare—she had at least three paid ad-devices in her apartment.
She walked over to the pipes on the right and instead of looking around, she jumped and grabbed one, pulling herself up to examine the gap between the ceiling and the top of the pipe.
"Bingo!"
After scanning and confirming there were no traps or mechanisms, Galina reached in to grab the package and dropped back to the ground. She held the box up to the light and—
"Is this real wood?" she blinked in surprise. Not only was the box made of actual wood, but inside it contained at least five kilos of "product" for her to sell.
Although… the fact that the box was covered in dirt made it feel more like a pirate treasure chest freshly dug up from one of those old storybooks...
"I was expecting a lot of things, but definitely not carrots," Galina said, picking one up with her gloved hand and eyeing it curiously. "Not sure how good they are, but they smell appetizing. Are you sure these are organic?"
Well, their size and shape weren't perfectly uniform...
She shook her head and closed the box, which—despite its size—still fit in her bike's storage compartment. She carefully packed away the goods after checking there was nothing else inside, like a note or chip with extra instructions.
Galina's eyes lit up as she began making a call.
An old friend of hers had a hobby of running a restaurant for idiots—the kind who paid a fortune for cutting-edge experiences or nostalgic flavors.
They didn't care about portion size or nutritional value. All they wanted was to enjoy the experience with maximum pomp and ego. Even the water was imported from deep within glaciers for maximum purity.
[Beep. Beep...]
"Galina! I'm so glad you called, it's been a while. How's your little angel doing?"
"Hey, Gordon. Sasha's doing great—growing strong and smart. Thanks for asking. How's the scene at your fancy restaurant?"
"Oh, you have no idea. I've been trying for weeks to find a totally new approach. Molecular gastronomy can only go so far before it loses its sense of innovation, mystery, and glamour. Plus, I'm getting tired of doing more chemistry than actual cooking. If I don't come up with something new soon, I'm sure one of my beloved gourmet clients will start throwing a tantrum like a 200-kilo baby."
Galina smiled at his usual tirade. He was basically handing her the opportunity on a silver platter.
"Well, turns out I might have something that could help. A few days ago, I had a rather unusual encounter and let's just say… I made a deal. Still wrapping my head around it, but when I saw what I got, you were the first person I thought of."
"Ooh~ consider me intrigued. Feel like dropping by? Better yet, bring Sasha too. I haven't seen her since she was… what, one? I'll whip up something tasty for both of you. I need honest feedback—my usual tasters are a bunch of brown-nosers. I might fire them all. Don't worry, I won't serve the slop I give the customers. Promise!"
Galina burst out laughing. When she said Gordon ran the restaurant as a hobby, she meant it. His parents had left him shares in several wildly successful companies. If he wanted, he could live in absolute luxury without lifting a finger.
But, as is often the case with people who have too much money, he got bored and picked up a hobby to kill time.
"Aren't you usually slammed around this hour?"
"I've had the place closed for three days—'looking for inspiration.' Between you and me, the first two were more like vacation days to recharge."
"Alright. I'll pick her up and see you in half an hour."
"Perfect! Buzz me when you're at the door and I'll let you in."
As promised, Galina picked Sasha up from school and, after making sure she had her safety gear, surprised her by taking her to Gordon's restaurant instead of going home.
"Mom, doesn't this place look really expensive?" Sasha asked, tugging on her mother's pants, clearly nervous—this part of the city was unfamiliar.
Not only the restaurant in front of her—even the clothes people wore on the street screamed "expensive" from her point of view. She could swear she'd seen some implant models that cost more than her house...
And she wasn't wrong!
"Don't worry, the owner is a friend of mine and he invited us for something delicious," she explained to her daughter while grabbing the box of carrots, her eyes flickering with light to alert Gordon of their arrival. "In fact, he held you when you were a baby. You can call him Uncle Gordon if you like."
"Uncle Gordon?" Sasha repeated.
"WHO DARES SUMMON MEEEE?!"
"Ah!"
Sasha clung to Galina's leg, startled by the sudden yell, as a man dramatically flung open the doors with arms wide, dry ice mist swirling at his feet. The restaurant lights behind him cast his shadow long and towering in Sasha's eyes. The mysterious figure remained hidden until the doors shut behind him, cutting off the light.
Wearing a white professional chef's uniform (minus the matching hat), sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Gordon Ramses revealed himself with an expression full of confidence, ruthless judgment, and just a glint of mischief in his eyes. His blonde hair was shaved on one side, and his muscular arms added to a clean, sharp appearance.
"Seriously, Gordon?" Galina gave the dramatic chef a deadpan look for startling her eight-year-old.
"...Too much?" the man asked, slightly embarrassed once he realized he'd scared Sasha.
But really, how could he resist making a grand entrance for a little kid?
"That was… awesome!" Sasha bounced excitedly once she recovered from the initial scare. "Was that a Volgurz XC-III projector?"
"Uh?" Gordon blinked, surprised she recognized the special effects machine—custom ordered for flashy food presentations.
"Sasha loves poking around all sorts of machines," Galina explained. "She's got catalogs of every kind just for fun."
More importantly, those catalogs are free!
"I see… But I'm afraid you were a little off," Gordon held his thumb and forefinger close together. "I used to have the Volgurz XC-III. But last week they released the XC-IV and, naturally, I got it."
"What specs does the new model have?" Sasha asked.
"I dunno, I haven't finished reading the manual yet," Gordon shrugged. "But it has a cup holder!"
"A projector with a cup holder?"
"I know, we're living in the future." Gordon lifted his chin proudly.
Sasha turned to look at her mom, her expression clearly asking: Is he messing with me, or is that real?
"I hope you're ready, Gordon," Galina said, knowing she had to change the subject—Gordon was definitely an acquired taste. "My daughter and I came here hungry."
"Yes!" Sasha suddenly remembered that this supposed "Uncle Gordon" was a chef.
"Of course," Gordon gestured for them to follow him inside. "Come in, everything's ready."
The moment they stepped into the restaurant, they noticed the perfectly controlled ambient temperature. Most of the round tables with red cloths had chairs stacked on top.
Only the table closest to the kitchen had three chairs set.
"Let's eat first. I'm a bit hungry too," Gordon helped both of them sit like a proper gentleman, pushing in their chairs. "Give me a moment and I'll be back with the dishes."
As Gordon rushed off to the kitchen, Sasha glanced at the wooden box her mother had set aside.
"Mom, what's that?" she asked, curiosity brimming.
Something smelled... sweet?
But not a kind of sweet she recognized. It was unfamiliar.
"It's a little surprise for your uncle, to thank him for the invitation," Galina patted the box with a soft chuckle.
Sasha nodded, covering her mouth with both hands to keep the secret, a mischievous smile on her lips.
She didn't know what had happened, but she liked that her mom didn't wear fake smiles anymore.
Gordon returned in just two minutes with a small cart full of dishes.
"Allow me to present the menu!" he didn't stop moving as he placed everything and served the proper portions. "As a starter, we've got pea soup and ham tacos. For the main course, a whole turbot sautéed in garlic butter. And to sweeten the night… honey-glazed roasted carrots!"
Gordon was very pleased with his menu for the occasion—most of the ingredients were near-identical to the real thing. He'd spent a lot of time and effort mimicking the texture, aroma, color, and flavor. And since he didn't know Sasha's tastes, he kept things relatively simple.
"Everything looks amazing, Gordon," Galina praised sincerely.
Sasha kept her eyes on the dishes like laser sights.
"Oh! And let's not forget the drink," Gordon pulled out a slightly dusty bottle, clearly reserved for a long time. "I got this especially for the first time Sasha came to my restaurant! It's 'kids' cider'—tasty enough for grownups, but totally safe for kids. No alcohol, naturally!"
Galina felt a twinge of guilt seeing the dust on the bottle, realizing she'd been a bit too busy...
"Without further ado—let's eat!" Gordon declared.
"Bon appétit!" said Sasha before digging in.
That earned her an approving look from Gordon—nowadays, no one had table manners anymore. People just came in, ate, and left.
They didn't know how to enjoy the experience!
The meal was excellent and very satisfying.
To avoid distracting Sasha, Gordon and Galina spoke through a call as they ate, catching up like the old friends they were. Occasionally, Galina's eye-lights flickered to take stealthy photos of her daughter's "chipmunk cheeks" version.
"That was delicious, Uncle Gordon," Sasha leaned back in her chair, her belly visibly full.
Gordon puffed out his chest like a superhero.
"I'll tell you a little secret," the chef propped his elbow on the table and raised an eyebrow at both of them. "The carrots I used for dessert? 100% organic! I know a guy with connections who got me some."
Sasha was stunned—had she just eaten something real for the first time?
Galina was also surprised, but for very different reasons.
"Uh… Gordon, about the carrots…"
"Don't worry," Gordon waved his hand casually, thinking Galina was worried about the cost. "Only the best for my friends—you know that!"
"Actually, I wanted to ask you," Galina pointed to the now-empty dessert plate—the highest praise a chef could receive. "Hypothetically speaking, let's say you came across some additional organic carrots… But these ones are between ten and fifteen centimeters long, with a diameter of two to three centimeters. Intense, vibrant orange color, slightly conical or straight shape, no spots or cracks. They even have fresh, firm green tops still attached!"
"Whoa, that'd be amazing! Just imagine the taste..." Gordon stroked his chin, starry-eyed. "But that's not realistic—at least not these days," he sighed.
The carrots he'd gotten were barely six centimeters and pretty deformed. The ones he used for dessert were the best of the bunch, and even then, the supply had been tiny.
"But let's say they do exist. How much would you pay for, I don't know, five kilos of them?"
"Five kilos?!" Gordon's eyes went wide at the quantity. "Holy sh— ahem—that's a lot."
You know, he'd barely managed to get just over a kilo and seven hundred grams after two months of wrestling with suppliers...
"Come on, satisfy my curiosity," Galina urged him.
"Alright," Gordon put on a thoughtful face, running some serious mental math. "If everything you said is true… then at least this much."
Galina looked at the estimate her friend sent—and for a moment, she stopped breathing. Then, she slowly picked up the wooden box and gently slid it over to Gordon like it was a crate of gemstones.
"Then maybe you'll want to take a look at this."
Gordon: ???