Infinite, Progressing from Arasaka

During security and stability operations, they naturally had to suppress and clear out those destabilizing elements.

Take the most unruly gangs, for example. Their accounts and assets would naturally be divided up by Vera and the Arasaka soldiers under her command according to unspoken rules.

A portion had to be handed over to Arasaka, but they could not hand over everything. Arasaka still needed those rank-and-file soldiers to risk their lives.

More importantly, Vera was good at opening up new sources of income rather than simply living off what she had.

Dangerous Girl, 2074 Annual Business Partner Dividend

The Built-in Cybereye Plugin in Vera's eyes flickered with an orange-red glow.

Money—wasn't more of it coming right in?

Dangerous Girl was small in scale, but that was only compared to supergiants like Arasaka and Militech. Its annual profits were still an astronomical figure to an individual.

Vera stared at the jumping figures in her Arasaka bank account, carefully counted the number of digits three times, then slowly nodded. Her mood grew even lighter.

Tap tap...

Entering the room, Vera kicked off her office shoes and stepped barefoot onto the soft carpet. She unfastened the collar button of her jacket, tossed it onto the housekeeping robot, and let down the hair that had been bound all day, allowing it to cascade down like a waterfall.

Rustle.

Having timed Vera's return home precisely, the service robot that had prepared ordinary ingredients ordered from a Biotechnology farm arrived in the living room on schedule, pushing a dining cart. It set the table and served the food.

Food first.

After a hearty meal, full and refreshed, Vera flopped directly onto the large white sofa in the living room and let her body sink into its softness.

Crossing her legs, she connected to the household widescreen television. Her thoughts synchronized with the data signal, and with a thought, she switched channels automatically—to News Channel 54.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to this special program on News Channel 54."

"I'm Gillian Jordan, and we'll be bringing local news to all Night City residents concerned about their hometown. First, we have unfortunate news from the Badlands."

"A humanitarian transport convoy belonging to Militech was subjected to a bloody attack by a group of unlawful Nomads..."

"Tch."

Seeing Militech suffer always made the corners of Vera's lips curl up in undisguised delight.

It was probably the environment. Militech was Arasaka's greatest rival in the weapons industry, and the dirty tricks and mutual scheming between them were too numerous to count. Having spent so many years in the Arasaka camp, and as a senior security executive, it would have been strange if she had any favorable feelings toward Militech.

Unless she wanted to change jobs.

Before long, Vera put Militech's misfortune out of her mind. Hoping for someone else's downfall was not as good as finding a way to climb up.

Multitasking, Vera rapidly browsed the local news that had happened while she was away from Night City.

"..."

Perhaps the waiting had become torturous. As she watched, Vera sank into thought. Her hands unconsciously moved behind her head as she reclined on the sofa, staring silently at the technologically styled chandelier on the ceiling for a long while.

While waiting for a reply from Tokyo Headquarters, she probably would not be assigned any more field missions.

Staying in Night City gave her both the reason and the time to improve the side business line she ran with Dangerous Girl.

And if Umbrella's products continued to iterate, then the latest models released to market, as well as certain high-end medical technologies capable of challenging Biotechnology, would require byproducts of T-Virus research as raw materials.

The Cyberpunk world clearly did not have those raw materials.

At least, Vera was not confident she could find the Sun Stairflower in the ruins of the Dubaiya Tribe in Africa under the Cyberpunk setting, then extract the Progenitor Virus.

Then—

After so long spent preparing and adjusting, it was time to begin.

Vera narrowed her eyes. The laziness and haze in her gaze vanished, replaced by sharpness and resolve.

She got up, went upstairs, and entered the washroom in her private bedroom.

The lights came on.

Vera looked at herself reflected in the mirror above the sink.

She wore a shirt with her tie loosened. Her features were refined, her nose high and straight, her contours well-defined. The subtle recessed lines left by her cybernetic modifications were elegant and powerful. With the faint upward curve of her lips, she looked every bit like a high-ranking Corporate Dog who might issue an order at any moment.

Vera was not admiring herself. She merely gazed quietly at the woman in the mirror.

"The call from somewhere beyond... I know this can work."

Her previously calm face began to reveal subtle changes the moment she made up her mind.

In a daze, an attraction originating from her soul seemed to push her one step forward with an invisible hand.

Vera saw "herself."

That woman stood there as well, a red-and-white umbrella-shaped pin fastened to her collar. Her gaze was resolute and profound, as though they had crossed endless time and space to stand beside one another, reaching into the deepest parts of each other's hearts.

"Give it to me." Vera held out her hand.

The woman in the mirror moved, extending a sheet of A4 paper toward her.

One hand, marked with the faint recessed lines of cybernetic modification, reached forward. Another hand of flesh and blood reached forward holding the A4 paper.

Contact.

The sensation—

Paper!

In that instant, an indescribable rush of emotion surged through Vera—excitement, fear, or perhaps exhilaration.

Like the shudder at the end of a Black Dream's climax, Vera suddenly felt exhausted. It was impossible to describe, as though her brain matter and even her soul had begun to boil. But she could endure it.

It did not hurt.

"How marvelous."

Taking a deep breath, Vera rubbed her temples tiredly, lowered her head, and looked at the dim black-and-white halo in her palm—

A wrinkled sheet of A4 paper clenched in her hand.

Fork in the Road

She slept without dreams.

Vera woke from a deep sleep and instinctively looked toward her bedside table.

A wrinkled sheet of standard white A4 paper lay on it.

"Turning the unreal into reality? No."

"Creating something from nothing? That doesn't seem right either."

"Moving things across time and space... Hah... It really is... like a dream."

She picked up the white paper and felt its real, distinct texture.

The exhaustion from last night gradually dissipated like morning mist, washed clean by a night of peaceful sleep, leaving behind freshness and tranquility. It felt as though only a few seconds had passed, yet also as though an entire night had gone by. Though her body showed no visible changes, Vera had never felt as refreshed as she did now!

Crack crack—

Vera stretched lazily, as if she could hear the faint sounds of her Reinforced Titanium Skeleton and muscles extending. It felt light and comfortable.

Using the dust-free gold-plated sliding cabinet door as a mirror, she saw that her indigo eyes had become brighter.

In the reflection, the woman who had not changed out of her clothes looked full of energy as well.

She did not look like a Corporate Dog who constantly worked overtime and exhausted herself.

Sitting up gently in bed, Vera crumpled the paper into a ball. Recalling the details of what had happened last night, she could not help showing a thoughtful expression. Her lips moved slightly. "It seems I won't be taking off the hat of a wild genius in biotechnology anytime soon."

After sorting through the chaotic thoughts filling her mind, Vera lowered her gaze to the hand she had raised.

Under the gentle warm light, her flawless skin and slender fingers made this Corporate Dog's arm appear even fairer.

Not the ghastly pallor of a corpse, but a healthy white tinged with rosy color.

This body had clearly undergone quite a few cybernetic modifications. Even though all the components were premium and well maintained, close inspection could still reveal artificial traces. No matter how well the recessed marks of the cyberware on her body were concealed, they still existed.

But now, it was as if the host's innate qualities were simply too exceptional, allowing the cyberware to perform at two hundred percent of its intended efficiency. Everything fit together perfectly and naturally, as though it had always been that way.

Just as all cybernetic implants emphasized compatibility, modern implant devices needed to be compatible with every user's physical condition and nervous system. Due to differences in compatibility and load-bearing capacity, their effectiveness varied from user to user.

Forced compatibility and overload were what led to the frequent cases of cyberpsychosis in the age of cyberware.

Vera's current state was, to use an inappropriate analogy, like a universal plug. The cyberware in her body seemed able to achieve the absolute limits of its original design, perhaps even surpassing its threshold, with perfect compatibility and load-bearing capacity.

So she had been too concerned with preserving her life, too conservative, in the past.

Vera continued to probe the feeling that had arisen at the time, then revealed an oddly strange smile.

Although bringing over that sheet of paper had indeed left her exhausted and sleepy, the anticipated splitting headache and bleeding from all seven orifices had not happened at all.

All that preparation she had made for the soul-born throbbing sensation of "attraction" had been for nothing.

And this was it?

Of course, perhaps it was because a sheet of paper was simply too light. A standard 21 cm × 29.7 cm A4 paper weighed only 4.3659 grams.

If she tried to pull a B.O.W. Tyrant over from the other side instead, it would definitely send her to the emergency room.

Probably.

Vera thought jokingly.

"After expending it and sleeping for one night, I actually recovered faster..." Her mind also felt clearer and more at ease.

The act of communicating with and commanding her "Alternate Spacetime Isotope," then taking the item from her hand, felt like donating blood.

Never using up excessively abundant red blood cells was not necessarily a good thing. Sometimes, moderate depletion and blood dilution could promote blood cell metabolism, strengthen hematopoietic function, and be more beneficial to health.

By the same logic, the source of Vera's soul—her brain—had remained in a state of full, steady growth ever since her thoughts stabilized after development in this life. It had never been actively depleted. This timely expenditure was just like appropriate blood donation.

After restoring itself through a night of sleep, it had filled up once more and become even more abundant.

"Well, caution and going all in each have their pros and cons. You can't take all the benefits for yourself."

It was not too late yet.

The work of extracting the T-Virus should be put on the agenda as well.

Having gathered herself, Vera walked toward the washroom while taking off the shirt and trousers she had worn all night. She did not regret being cautious or timid. After all, she only had one life.

Just as Vera removed her underwear and prepared to rinse off in the bathtub before going to work, a ringtone sounded—

She opened the private mail tab and accepted the message without even looking at it.

-Application Response-

Sender: Arasaka Tokyo Global Headquarters

Recipient: Vera Adelheid Russell, Night City

Your application for a scholarship and an internal Arasaka recommendation quota for admission to the Arasaka Faculty of Law, University of Tokyo has been approved.

Read.

"Isn't that perfect? Two blessings at once."

Vera closed the mail tab and lay down in the bathtub. She turned on the shower, opened the bathroom's one-way panoramic window, and faced the rising sunlight of Night City. A light, expectant curve appeared on her lips.

City Center, Arasaka Academy.

The 2074 academic year was drawing to a close, and every corner of the academy was permeated by a particular atmosphere.

Uneven.

At the academy entrance, students in Arasaka's red-and-black uniforms either gathered in small groups or walked alone. Some discussed assessment, upcoming vacation plans, and plans for the future, while others wore faces filled with misery, as if they had lost all hope for what lay ahead...

More than half a year had passed since the entrance ceremony. The enthusiasm stirred up by the bigwigs' motivational "chicken soup" had perhaps already faded.

More students, through their daily trips to and from school, had come to deeply feel the grandeur of the corporate towers, the uniqueness of the academy's extensive green spaces in Night City, and the distance between themselves and those things.

The gap between ideals and reality.

No money, falling behind in coursework, an oppressive atmosphere, bullying... Compared to the beginning of the school year, the number of students had decreased. Arasaka Academy's suicide and dropout rates had never been low.