Infinite Progress, Starting from Arasaka Chapter 18

When maintaining public order and security, it was naturally necessary to suppress and sweep away those destabilizing elements.

For instance, the gangs that jumped the highest—their accounts and assets would naturally be carved up by Vera and her subordinate Arasaka soldiers according to the unspoken rules.

A portion had to be handed over to Arasaka, but not all of it; Arasaka still needed those frontline soldiers to risk their lives.

Most importantly, Vera was skilled at opening up new revenue streams, not just sitting idle and depleting existing resources.

[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 this coming right back?

Dangerous Girl's scale was tiny, but only in comparison to supergiants like Arasaka or Militech. Its annual profit was an astronomical figure for an individual.

Vera stared at the jumping numbers in her Arasaka bank account, carefully counted the units three times, and slowly nodded, her mood growing even lighter.

Tap tap...

Entering, she kicked off her office flats, stepped barefoot onto the soft carpet, twisted open the collar buttons of her jacket, tossed the jacket onto the housekeeping robot, and undid her hair that had been bound all day, letting it cascade down like a waterfall.

Rustle.

Timed precisely to Vera's return home, the service robot that had cooked the regular ingredients ordered from the Biotechnology farm pushed the dining cart into the living room on schedule, cleared the table, and served the dishes.

Eat first.

After a hearty meal, full and satisfied, feeling refreshed and clear-headed, Vera flopped directly onto the large white sofa in the living room, letting her body sink into its softness.

Crossing her legs, she then connected to the home wide-area television, syncing her thoughts with the data signal. With a mental command, she automatically changed the channel to News Channel 54.

"Hello everyone, welcome to this special edition of News Channel 54."

"I'm Gillian Jordan, and we'll be bringing local news to all Night City citizens who care about their hometown. First up, an unfortunate report from the Badlands."

"A humanitarian transport convoy belonging to Militech was brutally attacked by a group of lawless Nomads..."

"Tch."

Seeing Militech suffer, the corners of Vera's mouth unconsciously curled into a gloating smirk.

It was only natural, given the environment. Militech was Arasaka's biggest rival in the weapons field; the dirty tricks and deceptions between them were countless. Having been in the Arasaka camp for so many years as a high-ranking security executive, she'd be a liar if she said she had any goodwill toward Militech.

Unless she wanted to jump ship.

Soon, Vera cast Militech's misfortune out of her mind. Hoping for others' bad luck was less useful than finding a way to climb up.

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

"..."

Perhaps it was the agony of waiting. As she read, Vera sank into thought, her hands unconsciously resting behind her head as she lay back on the sofa, staring at the high-tech chandelier on the ceiling, silent for a long time.

During this period of waiting for a reply from Tokyo Headquarters, she probably wouldn't be going out on field missions.

Staying in Night City gave her the reason and the time to improve the part-time business line she was collaborating on with Dangerous Girl.

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

The Cyberpunk world clearly didn't have these raw materials.

At the very least, Vera wasn't confident she could find the Sun Stairflower in the ruins of the Dubaiya Tribe in Africa under the Cyberpunk worldview, and extract the Progenitor Virus.

So then—

After brewing and adjusting for so long, let's begin.

Vera narrowed her eyes. Her originally languid and hazy gaze now turned sharp and resolute.

Standing up, she went upstairs to her private bedroom and walked into the bathroom.

The light came on.

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

Wearing a shirt, tie loose, delicate features, a high nose bridge, sharp contours, the subtle concave muscle lines left by cybernetic modifications elegant and powerful, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned—what a perfect high-level Corporate Dog, as if ready to issue orders at any moment.

Vera had no intention of admiring herself. She simply gazed quietly at her reflection in the mirror.

"A call from the unseen. I know this will work."

Her originally calm face, at the moment of making the decision, began to gradually show subtle changes.

In a daze, an attraction from the depths of her soul, like an invisible hand, pushed her forward one step.

Vera saw 'herself' clearly.

She stood there too, a red-and-white umbrella-shaped pin on her collar, her gaze firm and profound, as if crossing endless time and space, adjacent to each other, reaching straight into the deepest part of the heart.

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

Her reflection moved, reaching out to hand over a sheet of A4 paper.

One hand, marked by subtle cybernetic concave lines, reached forward. One hand, of flesh and blood, holding the A4 paper, reached forward.

Contact.

Touch—

Paper!

At this moment, an indescribable surge of emotion washed over Vera—excitement, trepidation, or perhaps exhilaration.

Like the shudder of climax at the peak of a Black Dream, Vera suddenly felt a wave of fatigue, impossible to articulate, as if her brain matter, even her soul, had begun to boil—yet she could endure it.

No pain.

"How truly wondrous."

Letting out a deep breath, Vera tiredly rubbed her temples, lowering her gaze to her palm, where the unreal black-and-white halo dimmed—

A crumpled sheet of A4 paper.

Chapter 23: Fork in the Road

A dreamless night.

Vera awoke from deep sleep, instinctively glancing at the bedside table.

There lay a crumpled standard white A4 sheet.

"Turning void into substance? No."

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

"Shifting spacetime... hah... it's like a dream."

She picked up the paper, feeling its real, clear texture.

The exhaustion from last night dissipated like morning mist, washed away by a full night's rest, leaving behind freshness and tranquility. It felt like seconds had passed, or perhaps an entire night. Though her body showed no visible change, Vera had never felt so refreshed and clear-headed!

Crack, crack—

Vera stretched, as if she could hear the faint sounds of her Reinforced Titanium Skeleton and muscles flexing and relaxing—a sensation of lightness and comfort.

Through the dust-free, gold-plated sliding door of the cabinet, she saw that her indigo-blue eyes had grown even brighter.

In the reflection, the woman who hadn't changed her clothes radiated a full, vibrant spirit.

Nothing like a Corporate Dog stuck with overtime and mental strain.

Sitting up gently from the bed, Vera crumpled the paper into a ball, recalling the details of last night. A look of emotion crossed her face as she murmured, "Looks like I won't be shaking off the title of Wild Genius in Biotechnology anytime soon."

Sorting through the chaotic thoughts flooding her mind, Vera looked down at her raised hand.

Flawless skin and slender fingers, under the warm, soft light, this Corporate Dog's arm seemed even fairer.

Not the pallor of a corpse, but a healthy, rosy white.

Though this body had undergone plenty of cybernetic modifications, even if all the parts were top-tier and well-maintained, close inspection would still reveal traces of artifice—the subtle indentations of cyber implants hidden beneath the skin, no matter how well concealed, were still there.

But now, it was as if the recipient's constitution was so exceptional that the implants performed at two hundred percent of their designed efficiency, blending together perfectly and seamlessly, as if they were natural.

Just as all cyber implants emphasize compatibility, modern implant devices must align with each user's physical constitution and Nervous System. Due to differences in compatibility and load-bearing capacity, the performance they deliver varies.

Forced compatibility and overload lead to the frequent cyberpsychosis of the cybernetic age.

As for Vera's current state, to use an imperfect analogy, it was like a universal plug—implants in her body seemed to achieve the utmost limits of their original design, even surpassing the threshold, perfectly compatible and load-bearing.

So, it turned out she had been too cautious, too conservative all along.

Vera continued to delve into the sensations of that moment, then let out a strange, wry smile.

Though retrieving that paper had indeed left her feeling exhausted and drowsy, the anticipated splitting headaches, bleeding from orifices, and other such things never happened.

All that preparation for this soul-deep, throbbing 'pull' had been for nothing.

And that's it?

Of course, perhaps it was because the paper's mass was so light—a standard 21cm × 29.7cm A4 sheet weighs only 4.3659 grams.

If she had tried to pull a B.O.W. Tyrant over from that side, it would definitely have sent her to the ICU.

Probably.

Vera thought to herself with a wry joke.

"After the drain, sleeping it off actually made recovery faster..." Her mind also felt freer and more at ease.

This act of communicating with and commanding her "Alternate Spacetime Isotope" to take something from its hand felt like donating blood.

Excess, never-depleted red blood cells aren't always a good thing. Sometimes, occasional consumption—thinning the blood—promotes metabolism of blood cells, enhances hematopoietic function, and is better for health.

Similarly, Vera's soul-source, this brain's self-development and stable thinking had always been in a state of constant growth, never actively drained. Now, this timely, active consumption was like appropriate blood donation.

After a night's sleep and self-recovery, it was replenished again, becoming even more abundant.

"Hey, caution and going all-in each have their pros and cons—you can't have all the benefits."

It's not too late yet.

The extraction work on the T-Virus should also get on the schedule.

Pulling herself together, Vera headed toward the bathroom, stripping off her shirt and trousers, which she hadn't changed all night. She didn't regret her caution and cowardice—after all, you only have one life.

Just as Vera unhooked her underwear and was about to step into the bath for a quick rinse before heading to work, ding-ding-ding—

She swiped open her private message inbox and answered without even looking.

-Application Reply-

Sender: Arasaka Tokyo Global Headquarters

Recipient: Vera Adelheid Russell [Night City]

[Your application for financial aid and the Arasaka internal recommendation slot for the Faculty of Law, University of Tokyo has been approved.]

Read.

"What a coincidence? Double happiness."

Vera closed the mail tab, lay down in the bathtub, turned on the shower, and opened the bathroom's one-way panoramic window. Her eyes met the rising sun of Night City, and the corners of her lips couldn't help but curl into a light, expectant arc.

City Center, Arasaka Academy.

The 2074 school year was drawing to a close, and every corner of the academy was steeped in a peculiar atmosphere.

Unevenness.

At the academy entrance, students in Arasaka's red-and-black uniforms gathered in twos and threes or walked alone. Some chatted about the upcoming holidays and future plans after the assessments, while others wore faces etched with bitterness, as if they had lost all hope for the future...

Half a year had passed since the entrance ceremony. The enthusiasm stirred up by the big shots' "chicken soup" speeches had likely long since faded.

More and more students, through their daily commutes to and from school, were constantly deepening their understanding of the corporation's towering buildings, the uniqueness of the academy's sprawling greenery within Night City, and the distance between themselves and it all.

The gap between ideals and reality.

No money, falling behind in studies, a suffocating atmosphere, bullying—compared to the start of the school year, the student population had dwindled. Arasaka Academy's suicide and dropout rates had never been low.