Deep dive.
A high-level technology that allows consciousness to enter the data realm.
[Within the Clinic's Local Network]
The text in front of John's eyes was still there, indicating it wasn't the product of mechanical scanning, but something much more unique.
The doctor's consciousness appeared.
They stood in the black-green stream of data, and the underground clinic's local network space was very small. If described in words, it was like two hackers fighting inside a data cage.
"When I get out, I'll make your life worse than death, sell you to the most twisted chip dealers in town!"
The doctor was cursing, and operated quickly.
The data world became chaotic, and the system was trying to expel John's consciousness.
"Die, fool!"
"Doctor, I'm not lying to you,"
John's voice was calm, but before he could finish, he suffered a data attack, as if a sharp blade pierced his chest.
His data was torn apart, but he wasn't expelled, speaking at an unchanged speed.
"Look, Black Light."
A black line extended from beneath his feet, following a twisted path, crashing through the clinic's local network.
The doctor was somewhat surprised and raised a firewall.
The black stream advanced in the data current, with the defense system being useless, and each string of code was overwritten in the blink of an eye.
The Black Light effortlessly contaminated the system.
[Eden City Industrial District - Underground Clinic]
The doctor returned to reality from the local network, in disbelief that he had been expelled from the system,
"Ah!"
Zi zi zi~
Dr. Grand's temple burst with a string of blue arcs, paralyzing his entire body, overheating all modifications, with error messages flooding his vision, causing him to collapse in agony on the ground.
[Clinic Control System (Connected)]
John's senses began to expand.
The clinic's local network was under his control—the mechanical cuffs restraining his limbs automatically released, the electric saw lost power, and the displays deleted the medical records, emitting smoke before going dark.
John jumped off the cold operating chair.
He coughed up blood, moving weakly forward, slowly approaching amid the doctor's wails.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted.
Bang, da da da!
A burst of bullets flew, grazing the table's edge, leaving sparkling sparks on the metal walls.
The ceiling rails were shattered.
Those oddly shaped mechanical arms collapsed with their supports, scattering components and paper files everywhere.
Click, click!
The doctor's trigger echoed, the magazine emptied.
John didn't recklessly poke his head out.
He crawled on the floor, groping constantly, finding a few usable components.
With years of experience working on Tiebang Logistics Company's conveyor line, he assembled the modules before him into an electromagnetic crossbow.
John took a deep breath, swiftly moved out of cover, and pulled the trigger toward the doctor's head.
Bang!
A rusty spike blasted open his prosthetic eye.
The doctor's half head hung at the table's edge, the corpse slowly saturated by the flowing pus.
His mechanical arm dropped, beeping, seemingly holding a shell inside.
The doctor intended to take John down with him, but he didn't expect John to be cautious and decisive in his shooting.
The ammo in the single-direction barrel exploded.
The doctor's body was blown to bits.
Blood plasma and grease splattered on the wall, slowly trickling down in thin branches under the flickering neon light.
The clinic's red lights started flashing.
Fire sprinkler heads sprayed a fine mist.
Amid the misty room, John searched everywhere, first snatching the chips from the table, then smashing open drawers and emptying the funds card inside.
Time was running out, and he couldn't loot for long.
John slipped into a hidden passage, crawling into a back alley dumpster through the garbage chute.
As he tumbled out, he saw police cars speeding by.
Dr. Grand made a lot of dirty money and paid for a high-quality insurance package for himself—chips connected to the network meant once he was down, police and medical organizations would send a large force for support.
John temporarily hid in the back alley.
He vomited a pool of black blood, with his vision starting to blur, and tinnitus even briefly drowning out Eden City's noise.
The diagnosis result didn't lie:
He didn't have much time left.
John rested for a while, picking up clothes from the trash bin.
Many fugitives were in town, perhaps evidence someone wanted destroyed.
John had no choice, he had to change out of his bloodied outfit, or he'd be spotted by drones.
After tidying up, he pulled up his hood and left the scene with a pocket full of chips.
[Eden City - Berea Avenue]
Towering buildings, dark streets, the neon lights of purple, green, blue, and red flashing continuously, electronic billboards rising skyward, drones and transporters sweeping overhead, and holographic girls dancing wildly on the street corners...
John exchanged cash for a subway card, feeling even more dizzy, and before he realized it, he was already standing in front of the graffiti-filled subway platform.
The carriage of the outer loop was crowded with a mix of passengers—drunks, gangsters, mercenaries, and sex workers.
Not a single respectable person in sight.
John held his head high, pretending to be a drug addict or a mentally weary pauper, to ensure that no one would bother him in his weakened state.
The headache was splitting, the images flashing before his eyes.
Lost his job, lost his house, social security forcibly interrupted, savings account frozen by the company under the guise of medical fees.
The subway rumbled.
Passenger after passenger disappeared from sight.
John didn't die in the subway, quite a pity, as he propped himself up and walked out of the platform, away from the main city, heading east along the suburb slums.
Until he heard mechanical roars and saw towering black mountains.
[Eden City III Landfill]
Darkness engulfed.
This place, even scavengers disdain to visit, only the unmanned cleaning vehicles frequented it.
After unemployment, John spent all his money, planning to quietly wait for death here.
He turned on the light in the shed, took out Tobecca's artificial eye remnants, and his memory flashed back to two days ago:
He accidentally touched this thing, and the ordeal of club girl Tobecca played back rapidly in his mind, and then, Black Light shone.
Strange text appeared.
[Carrier overheating, computation halted.]
[Detected remnants, emergency plan four, material extraction analysis underway, biological consciousness remnants—Tobecca, consciousness resisting fiercely...]
[Emergency mission—Tobecca's Last Wish]
The text mentioned the carrier overheating, likely referring to his increasingly frail body.
John, with a try-and-see attitude, followed the clues into the city, actually harboring a sliver of hope for the doctor.
The diagnosis results were lamentable.
First, cybermental illness was confirmed, Omega Inhibitor ineffective.
Second, Black Light proved more dangerous than imagined.
It was overpowering, able to overwrite all data in a deep dive state, even the doctor's firewall couldn't resist.
At first, he wasn't sure whether to comply, wasn't sure whether the text was an illusion, couldn't possibly go mad and kill innocents...
The doctor made the first move.
Now, the mission was completed.
[Emergency Mission: Tobecca's Last Wish (Completed)]
[Reward: Special Inhibitor Formula]
[Description: You're dying, go make one to save yourself.]
Every time John saw the text, his physical symptoms worsened.
This time, he felt even more pain, as if all kinds of information were crammed into his brain, and he fainted outright.
In the morning.
John endured the night on corrugated paper and a shabby cotton coat, with a materials list and special inhibitor manufacturing method newly etched in his mind.
His physical condition worsened further.
Time was running out.
John propped himself up, walking from the landfill towards the industrial district.
Last night, he had scavenged a bit of money at the clinic.
He bought a prefab meat patty from a street vendor, barely filling his stomach, feeling somewhat better.
The items on the list were common, yet he couldn't purchase them in the city, having killed a high-insurance black doctor last night, in case of a bounty, passing by the subway would result in a patrol machine blowing his head off.
Luckily, this is Eden City, there's always a gray purchasing channel.
John found a black market.
He cautiously purchased in batches, only emptying his funds card to obtain the final material.
"Is this all?"
"What else, junkie, you seem new, best not to look for trouble."
The black market boss pulled out a shotgun, driving the puzzled John away.
He brought the items back to the landfill, staring at the ground full of electronic parts, lost in thought.
"Does this look like medicine-making materials?"
"Hiss, ah!"
The symptoms of Black Light's erosion became increasingly severe.
He didn't have much time left.
Following the procedure, John was editing continuously on a blank chip and then dismantling Tobecca's artificial eye motherboard, using a repeater to link and scrub away the residual data.
Frankly, operating on a broken prosthesis was quite repelling, especially knowing the tragic end of its original owner.
The inhibitor was completed.
He looked at the red chip in his hand, mustered the courage, and inserted it into the slot on the side of his head.
[Special Inhibitor (Destroyed)]
[System rebooting, carrier scan, emergency plan halted, calibrating...]
A tearing sensation echoed in John's head, Black Light began to flicker, and the mountains of garbage overlapped continuously before his eyes.
Now he had only one thought.
Damn it, fake medicine is deadly.