"There are plenty of theories out there, but of all the supposed causes of Cyberpsychosis, the one I disagree with the most is the immune theory.
To put it bluntly, it's far too one-sided.
When someone first gets a cyberware implant, sure, immune rejection happens. But the immune system adapts—it desensitizes over time. At the very least, it doesn't get worse.
Cyberpsychosis, though… it's not that simple. The condition worsens as time goes on until it becomes completely unmanageable."
With that, Viktor returned to the operating table, busying himself once more.
"He'll be fine. He should wake up in a few hours."
Detaching the auxiliary device from his hand, Viktor finally had a moment to breathe. He looked at Arthur and Jackie with a smile.
"Looks like you boys wrapped up that big job."
"We did, but it left a bad taste in our mouths."
At the mention of the mission, Arthur couldn't help but think of the data hidden in that chip. His face darkened.
Viktor noticed and raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean? Someone double-cross you?"
"Not exactly. It's just... our employers were a bunch of bastards.
Biotechnica and the Scavs are in bed together, using them for live experiments.
What they wanted us to bring back was three half-finished reagents and a chip with the experimental data."
Hearing this, Viktor let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Yeah... in this city, you'll see the filthiest things imaginable. That's why I hole myself up down here and shut the world out."
His tone carried a quiet bitterness, like he was mocking his own self-preservation.
Seeing the weariness on Vik's face, Arthur frowned. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
"Vik, when I was lying on the ground, damn near dead, you were the one who dragged me back.
No one can carry the weight of the whole world. Saving even one stranger—that's enough. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."
Viktor shook his head with a bitter smile.
"I know myself. I've been hiding all my life. Enough about me. What do you plan to do?"
"I'll take the money—that's my payment. But I'm also going to stir things up. I saw what they're doing, and I'm not the kind to sit back. No reason for me to just grit my teeth and take it."
There was a hint of killing intent in Arthur's tone as he adjusted the gambler's hat on his head. Even here in Night City, he was still the same Arthur Morgan, the gunslinger of the West.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Arthur felt a weight on his shoulder—Jackie had casually thrown an arm around him.
"Since I was the one who brought this job in, of course I'll handle the aftercare too."
...
The job was finally over. The crew rested for the night, waiting for David to wake up.
Early the next morning, the kid suddenly shot up from the operating table. Looking around in confusion, his hands instinctively went to his waist.
Arthur couldn't help but grin at the sight.
"Well, I win. You're paying for the next round."
Jackie groaned, rubbing his forehead.
"Sandevistan should've been worth way more."
"Jackie, some things can't be measured in money."
David finally noticed the two of them.
"What are you doing? Where am I?"
Arthur's lips curled into a mischievous grin. He cracked his knuckles and slowly stepped forward.
"This is a clinic, of course.
As for what we're doing... heh, I've just got a little question for you."
By then, he was standing right in front of David.
"Can you drive?"
"Sure. I'm a novice, but I've got a surprising talent for it."
Still dazed from waking, David didn't notice the dangerous look on Arthur's face.
"Sure?" Arthur ground the word out through clenched teeth, already raising his fist.
"I'll show you 'sure,' and 'talented'..."
After a scuffle that left the clinic in chaos, David stumbled to Viktor with a black eye.
"Arthur said you could help me."
Amused, Viktor nodded.
"Your Sandevistan was installed poorly.
But with the right data, I can greatly reduce the strain it's putting on you."
After a moment's hesitation, David chose to trust Arthur. He couldn't quite explain it—something about Arthur's presence and methods drew him in, making him want to stay close. Some inexplicable trust had taken root.
Even if it hurt again, it'd be worth it.
"Doctor, thank you for agreeing to help me."
He lay back down on the operating table.
"Hahaha, kid..." Viktor pointed at him, chuckling.
"I'll need to prep some meds. Go wait to the side for now."
At that moment, only Viktor and David remained in the clinic. Lucy had left the night before, and Arthur and Jackie had gone to Westbrook to settle the gig with the Padre.
After hanging up with Maine and Lucy, David wandered through the small clinic.
Strange instruments and devices he couldn't recognize lined the spotless room. Compared to this place, the clinic he usually visited looked more like a butcher's shop.
He didn't dare touch anything, drifting deeper until he found an iron MedPod.
It was obviously built to hold a person. Curiosity pulled him closer.
Above it was a small glass panel. Inside lay a woman, red hair spilling across her shoulders, a respirator strapped to her face...
David froze.
Tears welled up instantly, blurring his wide-open eyes.
His mouth fell open, but his throat locked up, as if something had jammed inside. No sound came out.
It couldn't be... or could it?
He turned his head away, unable to risk a second glance.
But what if it really was...
His whole body tensed, as if in silent prayer. He forced himself to look again, pressing his face against the glass.
Tears dripped onto the tiny window as his trembling hand wiped at the stains, as though afraid of damaging the cold metal pod.
Yes—the implant at the corner of her right eye. Yes—that face, even in sleep, still gentle.
His mother... she was alive.
...
Viktor was working when a heavy crash echoed from the back of the clinic.
Following the sound, he saw David collapsed beside the MedPod, crying uncontrollably.
Frowning, Viktor walked over.
"What's wrong with you?"
Just moments ago, he'd been all reckless bravado. Now he looked like a broken child.
Hearing the question, David struggled to lift his head.
Through blurred tears, he still recognized the man standing before him. His throat burned, as if seared by hot iron, every word dragged out with unbearable weight.
"She... she's still alive."
Viktor's gaze shifted to the MedPod. Those machines wouldn't move someone like this. No, it had to be the woman inside.
"Who is she to you?"
"My mom."
"So you thought she was dead. Sit down. But don't get ahead of yourself just yet."
It took David more than ten minutes to calm down. He slumped at a table, wiping his face now and then.
"How is she?" His voice was hoarse, scraped raw.
"Not good," Viktor said. "Arthur rescued her when he escaped a Scav hideout. She was already in suspended animation—even the Scavs thought she was dead. The emergency tracheal implant in her neck is what saved her.
When I brought her back, part of her brain was already dead from lack of oxygen, and the rest was in shock.
She survived, but she's been in a coma ever since. No telling if she'll ever wake up."
"Is there any way? Whatever it is, just tell me."
David's voice was unwavering, full of determination.
"There's no real solution. Luckily, she still has time. Even if she never wakes up, she can at least live out her days."
Viktor patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Her body's in rough shape. Resting there might not be the worst thing for her."
"Doctor... how's the prep going?"
David suddenly looked up. Ignoring the tear tracks on his face, his gaze carried a new steadiness.
"I told you, don't burden yourself too much," Viktor muttered, shaking his head. He pointed to the operating table.
"Lie down. We can begin."
...
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