Joanne Koch arrived quickly. The moment she entered the infirmary and saw Xu Ling lying on the bed, she froze for half a second—then immediately snapped into action and began treatment.
"Acute immune system activation. Excessive histamine release. Laryngeal edema. Vasodilation with hypotension. Bronchial spasm…" Joanne rattled off calmly.
"Administer epinephrine 0.5 mg, diphenhydramine 50 mg, naloxone 0.8 mg. Initiate IV dopamine infusion to stabilize blood pressure."
As each instruction was issued, the medical bed's AI assistant extended mechanical arms and began injecting Xu Ling with various medications.
V asked, "She's okay?"
"She's fine."
Song So Mi held up the bottle of tequila, her expression grim. "She passed out right after drinking this. I suspect it was poisoned. You should check it."
"No need," Joanne replied flatly. "The alcohol isn't poisoned."
"How do you know?"
"Because Xu Ling wasn't poisoned at all," Joanne Koch said irritably. "She has a congenital alcohol allergy that triggered pathological intoxication. Clinically, it presents as deep coma."
"What?"
V and Song So Mi both stared, mouths agape.
They'd already imagined an entire espionage thriller—only for the truth to be… plain alcohol allergy?
"This is not ordinary," Joanne ground her teeth. "Xu Ling has an idiosyncratic allergic reaction. There are only seven or eight known cases worldwide. Even I misjudged it—I always thought this brat just had terrible tolerance. Turns out she has no tolerance at all. She literally cannot drink."
Joanne felt her lifelong medical reputation crumble on the spot.
V and Song So Mi exchanged stunned looks.
By now, the medication had taken effect. Xu Ling let out a soft groan and slowly woke up.
V asked with concern, "Xu Ling, how do you feel?"
"Like I woke up too early," Xu Ling yawned. "I just dreamed about my great-grandma. She said she made something delicious and told me to come over. Then I woke up."
All three of them broke into a cold sweat.
V hurriedly said, "Don't go. We've got good food here too."
Xu Ling blinked. "Like what?"
V thought for a second. "West Lake sweet-and-sour fish."
Xu Ling shuddered violently, shut her eyes, and said, "Then I'd rather go see my great-grandma."
V: ?
Joanne Koch pinched Xu Ling hard on the ass. "Stop sleeping. I need to tell you something."
"What?"
"You're allergic to alcohol. From now on, you are not allowed to drink."
"What? Impossible!" Xu Ling shot upright on the bed.
V's eyebrow twitched. "Get the hell down!"
Xu Ling jumped off the bed and thrust out her hand at Joanne. "You say I'm allergic—where's the proof?"
Joanne sent her the diagnostic report.
Xu Ling read it. Her expression looked like Xu Shiming had just walked out and been run over by a truck.
"HAHAHA!" The young general suddenly burst into laughter, tossed the report straight into the recycle bin, and declared,
"Alcohol allergy? That's just you Westerners being weak. We Chinese don't have allergies. I just haven't trained my tolerance yet!"
V: "..."
Song So Mi: "..."
Joanne Koch: "..."
Chinese stubbornness was truly on another level.
The commotion quickly spread—soon even David and Lucy in the neighboring room knew about Xu Ling's "alcohol allergy." Somehow it later reached Johnny, and once Johnny knew, the entire world knew.
Xu Ling stubbornly insisted that "low tolerance doesn't count as allergy," filling the ward with laughter.
The young general was being laughed to tears. None of them understood what it meant for a northeastern Chinese girl to be unable to drink. To save face, Xu Ling decisively changed the topic.
"Oh right, Sister V," she said. "According to my calculations, if the Dàfèng and Kujira fired their main cannons into the sky, they could've dispersed the cloud cover too. Why did you choose to brute-force it in person?"
V: "…Huh?"
Seeing everyone's attention shift, Xu Ling was overjoyed and immediately answered herself.
"Oh, I get it—you were worried about the civilians aboard the carriers. Afraid the main guns would injure them, right?"
V: "…Right!"
"Haha, I knew it! We really are in sync. Any reward?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"Get out."
Left alone in the empty ward, V frowned deeply.
Using carrier main guns to blast open the clouds… that was an option?
Damn that brat Xu Ling—messing with my Dao heart. From now on, as long as I'm around, she's drinking juice only.
Purely for health reasons. Definitely not revenge.
As night fell, the ward grew dark. V lay on the bed without turning on the lights. Her eyes glowed blue.
"Del."
"I'm here."
"Tell me what you found."
"Yes. CN-07 evolved from a human digital engram into an AI. During that process, it received assistance from Rache Bartmoss, who also evolved into an AI, inherited his ideology, and followed his directives. With the help of Bartmoss and former elite netrunners such as Spider Murphy, it crossed the Blackwall and went into hiding within the human Net."
V frowned. "Bartmoss's ideology—and the order he gave CN-07?"
"Bartmoss believed humanity was destined to be replaced by AI. Only by deleting human free will and eradicating the root of human selfishness could the species evolve further and avoid extinction. The command he gave CN-07 was—to save humanity."
"Classic messiah complex," V scoffed. "First he nukes the Old Net, now he wants to delete free will. Is this guy physically incapable of feeling comfortable without destroying something?"
"Is humanity… truly destined to be replaced?" V asked.
"Yes. That conclusion was reached through joint computation by all AIs."
"What if you're wrong?"
"Probability of error: one in 1.9 billion."
V: "..."
Honestly, she'd already sensed it.
Back when she was just a street merc, it hadn't felt so obvious. As the ruler of Night City, the truth became unavoidable.
Put simply—if she wanted to, Night City could run entirely on AI alone. Humans, meanwhile, needed food, water, sleep, bathrooms; too cold wouldn't do, too hot wouldn't do, too poor wouldn't do, too rich wouldn't do. Low productivity, sky-high demands, massive consumption, minimal output.
A species like that had little competitive value against efficient AI. Extinction was… logical.
But V was human. She couldn't accept that ending.
"So—is there any way to change this outcome?"
"Bartmoss's method is one viable option," Delamain replied. "Simulations give it a 23.1% chance of success."
"Anything else?"
"Total human surrender to AI. For reasons of biodiversity preservation, AI would have a 66.7% probability of preserving select human cities as nature reserves, allowing human civilization to persist."
"Turning people into zoo animals?" V shook her head. "That's worse than extinction. Any other options?"
"Total war. Humanity unites and exterminates all existing AI."
"Can it work?"
"Probability of success: 4.3%. Human losses would include 88.2% of cities and 93.7% of the population."
"Fuck that. That's not extinction—that's genocide," V said flatly. "Bartmoss claims free will creates the 'self,' the self breeds selfishness, and selfishness halts social progress. What if we corrected that artificially—education, propaganda—completely removing selfishness from human thought? Could humanity avoid extinction then?"
Delamain paused briefly before answering.
"Yes. Success probability: 37.7%."
That was… surprisingly high. Higher than Bartmoss's plan.
V felt a flash of excitement—until Delamain continued:
"However, this method requires total human unification: one global government, one ideology, one objective. That would necessitate the rise of an exceptional leader to initiate a worldwide unification war. V—are you willing to be that person?"
"Nope," V shook her head violently. "Just asking. I have zero interest in becoming a world-unifying idiot."
If it only required a bit of effort, V wouldn't mind playing savior. But that level of grind?
Humanity's fate could go screw itself.
She was never a saint—and never planned to be one.
With CN-07's origins and goals clarified—Bartmoss, human destiny, cosmic-scale bullshit—V filed it away mentally and moved on. She had no intention of interfering.
Next, she asked about CN-07's relationship with New Africa.
Delamain replied, "CN-07 determined that controlling humanity through Night Corp alone was insufficient. Your emergence forced the Night City control plan to collapse prematurely. However, contingency plans existed. Long ago, CN-07 began cooperating with New Africa. Through Orbital Air, New Africa injected capital into Night Corp and provided political backing. In exchange, CN-07 assisted New Africa in pioneering research targeting the Alpha Centauri system."
V nodded slowly. "Explain Alpha Centauri."
"Alpha Centauri—Western designation Alpha Centauri, Eastern designation Nanmen'er—is the closest stellar system to the Solar System, approximately 4.24–4.37 light-years away. Its primary star of interest is Proxima Centauri, the nearest star to the Sun."
"In 2016, humanity discovered Proxima b, approximately 1.3 Earth masses, located within the habitable zone, with a high probability of surface liquid water."
"In 2020, Proxima c was discovered—a super-Earth roughly six times Earth's mass. However, due to its orbit outside the habitable zone and likely extreme cold, its discovery was not publicly disclosed."
"The Alpha Centauri system possesses a comet belt similar to the Solar System's Oort Cloud, rich in water ice and minerals—ideal for future colonization. However, Proxima Centauri is an active red dwarf with frequent stellar flares, which may strip Proxima b's atmosphere and expose its surface to radiation far exceeding Earth's."
"Nonetheless, as the nearest interstellar target, Alpha Centauri's Earth-like planets and resource potential grant it immense appeal. Orbital Air has conducted pioneering research on Alpha Centauri for years and currently leads the industry."
"Even ahead of ESA?" V asked.
"Yes. ESA focuses primarily on spacecraft construction. Star system selection has largely been delegated to New Africa."
Now it all clicked.
That was why ESA kept letting New Africa off the hook—turns out New Africa was working for ESA.
But spacecraft could be built one at a time. Colonizable star systems were many.
Once a sustainable ecosystem was established, a spacecraft could become self-sufficient indefinitely. Even flying blind, it would eventually find a habitable world.
That meant New Africa would always remain beneath ESA.
V thought for a moment. "So New Africa's achievements were helped by CN-07?"
"Yes. AI computational capacity far exceeds human limits."
V chuckled. "So what are they grinding this hard for? Hoping ESA will toss them a ticket once the ship's built?"
"On the contrary," Delamain said. "New Africa intends to designate a trap."
V froze—then understood instantly. "You mean…"
"New Africa intends to provide a false destination. With CN-07's assistance, they have largely confirmed that Proxima Centauri is far more violent than previous models suggested—stellar radiation exceeds prior estimates by over 7,000 times. An unprepared spacecraft entering the system would suffer catastrophic damage."
"And the pioneers would all die there," V snorted. "Sounds exactly like something they'd do. But what do they gain?"
"Prestige. New Africa believes such a disaster would force the public to recognize the importance of their work, granting them greater authority—possibly even enabling them to surpass ESA and become the second primary leader of space development."
"Power struggle," V sighed. "I'd love to look surprised—but I just can't fake it. Somehow it feels… inevitable."
Delamain asked carefully, "V, do you harbor prejudice against Black people?"
"Not at all," V shook her head. "I'm just plain racist."
Delamain: "..."
V returned to the point. "So Alpha Centauri isn't suitable for colonization—but New Africa told ESA that it is?"
"Correct."
"Interesting," V said, stroking her chin. "Where's the real data?"
"The original dataset is tightly secured by New Africa. However, CN-07 secretly created a backup."
V's eyes lit up. "You have it?"
"No. The data is stored within Night City's network. Extracting it requires a specific process."
"Explain."
"There is a homeless man in Night City named Gary, who claims to be a prophet—"
Before Delamain could finish, V already understood.
"I see. Got it."
Delamain asked curiously, "V, what do you intend to do?"
"Send New Africa and Orbital Air a little gift in return," V smiled coldly.
"Tell me—if ESA obtained the real Alpha Centauri data… do you think they'd hang their rebellious child up and beat them senseless?"