The Dimensional Workshop - Chapter 7

The Dimensional Workshop - Chapter 7

I could taste the air. 

No, that was not a metaphor. The acrid smell of burnt trash, layered with tones of motor oil, was like poison compared to  the crisp, cold autumn air of my town. It felt like I’d traded a warm cup of tea and a blanket for a toxic cloud.

I knew it was toxic. My enhancements were most commonly administered to drop troopers going into intergalactic warzones, and hence included inbuilt filtration systems, making sure I wouldn’t catch anything nasty. Said systems were working overtime to make the unbearably filthy air of Night City breathable for me.

And to think people lived here, in a place that wouldn’t register on most air quality index scales. It went to show that if you could sell someone a dream, they would come. Night City was living, barely breathing testament to this.

Watson, Little China, was probably not representative of the entirety of Night City, sure. Yet, it was a vertical slice of what made this place both so desirable and so abhorrent. The illusion of true freedom and the chance to be someone, clashing against the dirty, decrepit city.

I didn’t care much for it, as I walked into a shop that everyone who’d played Cyberpunk had frequented.

Misty’s Esoterica, home of one of the most beloved NPCs in the game, the Misty of legend.

Who was currently being harassed by two gang-bangers.

“The fuck you mean you’re just reading the cards, gonk?” One of them slammed her table, sending tarot cards flying. His co-conspirator chose instead to snarl at her, much like a rabid animal. It was accurate, considering the two of them looked like un-affiliated bottom-of-the-barrel mooks.

“That’s what I’m saying! I can't decide what the cards say. That’s the point of this whole exercise!” Misty countered with a degree of nonchalance that I hadn’t expected from her. The game really didn’t flesh her out as much as it should have.

Then again, the game also didn’t explain how she was able to make a living by running what amounted to Night City’s equivalent of a fortune reader’s stall in one of the game’s more gang-run areas. Sure she rented out the basement to Victor, but the fact that she had customers, albeit the rowdy type, meant that she did get business.

So, if this was her clientele, how did she deal with them?

“No cards will decide Ardian Crusher’s destiny, choom!” The overly-modified of the two spoke, striking a heroic pose with his sidekick cheering him on. Watching their animated routine made me chuckle, the noise of which alerted them to my presence.

Three sets of eyes locked on to me with a varying set of expressions behind them. The modified man, Adrian Crusher, was incensed. His sidekick was confused, while Misty watched me with detached interest.

“Whatchu laughin’ at, gonk?” Mr. Smasher asked.

Not intimidated at the slightest by his posturing or his cheap cyberware, I stepped up to him, easily dwarfing him by almost a foot. “I don’t know, guess I found it funny how someone who willingly asked for a fortune reading got pissed when the reading wasn’t to his liking.”

“I would also recommend backing off. While it’s unlikely that Adam Smasher’s going to come after you for trying to copy his name, you step up to me, and the result will be the same.” 

“He’s talking mad smack for a ‘ganic.” The mook in the back spoke up. The man gave netrunner vibes, and based on the way he accurately reported my lack of augments, I guessed right.

“I may be ‘ganic, but do you really think you stand a chance with those mediocre mods of yours?” I smirked at Walmart Adam Smasher, egging him on. “I mean, with all that chrome, you gotta be overcompensating for something.”

“Oh you fucking didn’t!” he spoke, throwing a punch that felt like it was flying towards my face in slow motion. 

I ducked under it, and shoved my glove into his face. The runes for ‘energy’ and ‘disable’ lit up, as my latest creation flooded a localized EMP wave through his body, disabling every one of his cheap modifications with the ease of turning off a light switch.

His empowerment gone, he fell to the ground like a sack of bricks. It was testament to the quality of the carpet that Misty used that his fall didn’t damage the ground. And with that, the first field test of my EMP gloves was a success.

Would it work on more advanced, more shielded cybernetics? No. Simple insulation could stop the EMP dead in its tracks. Yet, against the kind of cheap cyberwear the majority of mooks in Night City could afford? It was a cheat code.

Providing I could touch them. Thankfully, smart guns were neither cheap nor easy to get. If someone dared shoot at me, my trusty glock, now enhanced with an extensive array of runes, was available as a last resort.

If push came to shove, I could even overload the gun. It would destroy the gun itself, but the one shot I’d get would have enough stopping power to burrow straight through a tank’s armor plating.

“I’d get him out if I were you.” I spoke, turning to face the netrunner. “Unless you want to have a go too?”

The alacrity with which the man collected his friend and got out of there made me wonder if he had a Sandevistan installed. Made Misty chuckle too.

“Thanks. That could’ve gotten bad.” She spoke, a friendly smile on her face.

“I assume you get buffoons like that often?” I spoke, walking up to her table. I sneaked a quick glance at the cards on the table, not that I knew shit about tarot readings myself.

“More often than I’d like. You’d think that living in a territory considered ‘contested’ by two gangs would be bad for business, but it attracts all kinds of gonks trying to become ‘legends’” She sighed, picking up the cards.

“Ah yes, the upcoming legendary solo, ‘Adrian Crusher’. No relation to Adam Smasher.” I joked, successfully getting a smile from Misty.

“In all honesty, most of them are a lot less… out there.” She answered. “Usually I need to get my boyfriend involved. There’s still some bullet holes in the drywall from when the last one decided he didn’t like the reading I gave him.”

“That’s… wow, isn’t that a bit too dangerous?” I asked.

“It’s Watson. What isn’t dangerous?” She answered. 

“Point taken.” I nodded back. “Still, I’m not sure how much of a profit a fortune teller shop makes in gang land.”

“You would not believe how many dream catchers I sell every day.” Misty replied with a chuckle. “And it helps that Vik pays me rent, and also pays me to fill in as his unofficial receptionist. Speaking of him, he’s got a patient right now, I hope you don’t mind waiting.”

“What makes you so sure I’m here to see him? For all you know, I might be here for a reading.” I joked.

“For one, you’re ‘ganic, and you’ve got that ‘new in town’ feel around you. We don’t get ‘ganics very often, but when they do arrive, it’s not usually a card reading they’re after.” She reasoned with a smile.

“Second, you don’t exactly strike me as someone who cares much about things like fate. I can just tell.” She finished.

“Didn’t know you were an empath too.” I countered.

“I once charged someone three thousand eddies for confirming that their aura was - in fact - every color of the rainbow. Never seen a gonk be so happy about being ripped off in my life.” She spoke.

“Seriously though, are you really ‘ganic?” She asked. “I’ve seen a few in my life and no one has ever moved as fast as you did earlier. I’ve seen chrome jockeys who couldn’t move that fast.”

I nodded. “I’m one hundred percent natural, ma’am. Also, where are my manners? Ryan Willis, at your service.”

She shook her head. “Just call me Misty. Seriously, you’re one weird choom. So what is it that brings you to my humble shop?”

“While I’m not in the market for cyberware, I did want to meet with the ripperdoc.” I spoke. “In the interest of academia, actually.”

“Huh. Academia. Never heard that one before.” She spoke, a surprised look on her face. “Not to sound dumb or anything, but… could you like, explain?”

“Well, it’s simple, really.” I spoke, giving her a smirk. “I’ve been studying cyberpsychosis and biological augmentation, and I believe that it’s a preventable condition, if not straight up curable.”

“O…kay.” She drew out the word, trying to ascertain whether I was pulling her leg. The look of distrust and confusion on her face was honestly priceless. “And you think that we can help you with that?”

I gave her a nod. “Right now, all I have is a few theories. Workable theories, mind you, but still theories nonetheless. I was hoping to observe the workings of a ripperdoc firsthand. I believe it could help immensely.”

Misty was at a loss for words, and the silence stretched between us for a moment, before she found her voice again.

“You… Are you serious? You really believe that you can fix something that even the biggest corporations can’t?” She hissed.

“Even if I can’t. Isn’t it something worth trying?” I replied. “Plus, I’m willing to pay for it. 

Misty looked at me, I could see the hesitation in her eyes. An internal conflict between hope and her internal defense mechanism against scammers. Slowly, the fact that neither she not Vik really had anything to lose from this seemed to dawn on her.

“Take a seat. I’ll see if Vik’s willing to help.” She answered.

“That’s all I ask.” I replied, a satisfied smile on my face.

LB

“So you’re the one who’s trying to solve Cyberpsychosis, huh?”

Viktor wasn’t even looking at me. He was busy tinkering with something that looked like a mechanized hand, all the while, a boxing match played on the tablet in front of him. Somehow, he was delicately soldering wires on to the hand without looking at it once.

“Hopefully, yeah.” I replied. “Ryan Willis, a pleasure to meet you.” 

I offered him my hand, and he finally looked away from his tablet. Instead of taking my hand, he sized me up. A boxer through and through, I watched as his gaze washed over my body, it was like a warrior sizing up his opponent, a reminder that the man in front of me was once a renowned boxer.

“You don’t look much like a researcher.” He commented curtly.

“And you don’t look much like a doctor, but I’m not judging.” I hit back. I couldn’t afford to back down. I’d lose his respect if I did, and the smirk that appeared on his face was my reward for standing my ground.

“Touche.” he said. “I have no issues with you watching the process. Just gotta make sure the patient doesn’t have any objections either.”

“What’s the holdup, Vik?” A familiar voice came from the operating chair in the back. I looked over and was met with someone who looked both familiar and not. 

There was a difference between anime and real life. While someone like Maine looked like what you’d expect, a middle-aged gangster with more muscle than mind, looking at her clearly fake skin, her cybernetic, enlarged eyes, her wiry, dyed hair. Rebecca looked uncanny.

Like a doll, brought to life, waving her legs with her uncanny-valley evoking pulled in an expression of pure boredom. Reality really was the ugliest representation of art, and looking like a cheap japanese doll, Rebecca epitomised the fakeness of Night City.

Yet, as fake as her visage was, her personality was genuine beyond measure, as I saw her eyes widen when they met mine, as I saw the teasing smile spread on her face, I returned her smirk with a polite smile.

“Ooh, who’s this handsome choom? I didn’t know you did double-booking, Vik.” She joked, “I would drop by a lot more often if I knew someone like him shops here.”

“Zip it, gremlin, or you can book someone else for your skin replacement next month. God knows you don’t pay me enough for the effort it takes.” Vik spoke, standing up from his chair. 

“C’mon choom! Help a girl get some action. Look at him! He’s just my type!” She chirped as we walked over to her. Even sitting on the comically large chair, the sheer mania she exuded was honestly endearing. I did have to hold back a chuckle. Knowing how bad she had it for David, who looked absolutely nothing like me.

Her type, sure. 

“I’m sure he’s not interested in jailbait.” Vik spoke, sitting on his chair next to her. “Word to the wise, if you see someone with gorilla cyberarms, steer clear. They’re great for combat, not so much for delicate operations.”

“Hey! I’m famous for my handjobs!” She countered.

“In the local prison, sure.” Vik slapped back, and I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. Their byplay felt like banter between siblings, something I would never have expected considering these two characters never met in the anime.

The fact that Rebecca was dead by the time the game happened was not even worth mentioning. 

These two definitely were comfortable with each other. What effect would Rebecca’s death have had on someone like Vik? The man was a stoic, yet someone who cared, someone who - in the game - had gone far beyond what he needed to.

How had he dealt with her death? I hoped I’d never get to know.

“I’m gonna forgive you for that and be the bigger person.” Rebecca huffed.

“Glad that I could make you feel big for once. Must be a rarity for you.” Vik deadpanned. “All that aside, this is Ryan. He wanted to watch me operate, says it’ll help him fix cyberpsychosis.”

Rebecca shut up mid-retort hearing that, diverting her attention from Vik to me. “Choom, literally every corp worth remembering has done decades of research into cyberpsychosis with nothing to show for it. The fuck are you on about?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I have better resources than any corp in this world?” I asked, a sweet smile plastered on my face.

“Yeah, and my dad’s Morgan Blackhand.” Rebecca shot back, giving me a distrustful look.

“I’d have liked to say the same, but you’re different.” Vik spoke up. “Your body composition, your physical makeup. It’s too perfect, and I’ve seen enough ‘ganics to know.”

“Perfect, huh? Didn’t know you swung that way, Mister Victor Vektor.” Rebecca piped up, seeing an easy win. 

“I’m willing to bet more men want to sleep with me than you. Sadly, I don’t roll that way.” Vik shot back without missing a beat. “As I was saying. You’re augmented, just not with cybernetics.”

I didn’t know whether it was his past as a boxer or his quality as a ripperdoc that lent him such insight, but I nodded in affirmation. “Yeah, you could say I’m biologically enhanced.”

“I’ve seen top of the line biomods in my line of work. Whatever you’ve got going on is far beyond that. I don’t know where you came from or who you are, but I’m inclined to believe that you have the resources, if not the know-how and backing, to compete with the corpos.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” I replied.

“That, and you’re paying to watch the procedure. I’m not going to turn down free eddies.” Vik finished.

“Wait, you’re getting paid to let him watch you operate on me?” Rebecca found her voice again. “And I get nothing?”

“I’m a good negotiator.” Vik replied.

“So am I! I just don’t have my guns on me right now.” Rebecca continued, staring expectantly at me.

“I mean, do you want me to pay you too?” I asked.

She thought about it for a moment, her uncanny features were set into an expression that could vaguely pass for thoughtfulness, bordering on confusion, before her eyes lit up, literally.

‘Nah. I got paid good eddies for my last gig. Still can’t believe we’re peddling fruits of all things.” She spoke, completely oblivious that her crew’s ‘gig’ was from me. “Could… could you biomod me?”

I stayed silent for a second, trying to figure out just what she really wanted. “You… want me to make you taller?”

“Fuck no!” she barked out. “Being short and unhinged is my whole brand, choom!”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Then… what is it that you’re looking for?”

She looked at me, a hopeful look on her face. “It’s… well, getting new skin installed every year is a fucking pain. Would it be possible for like…”

“For me to replace your skin for the real thing?” I asked.

“Well, not exactly. See, I love the color of this specific chem-skin. I mean, normal ‘ganic skin is preem and all but like, this is more ‘me’, you know. I just… want to get rid of the hassle.” She punctuated her words by literally peeling some skin off the back of her hand. The way it tore off, it looked worn, like low-quality fake leather. I could understand trying to get rid of that.

“Well, give me a month and I think I could figure it out.” I answered.

“Preem, then you can watch.” She answered, leaning back on the chair. “And… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” I answered with a smile.

“Also, any chance I could get your digits?” She asked, an expectant look on her face. I had to admire the sheer audacity. Then again, she didn’t know she was trying to chat up her boss’s boss.

Social climbers had nothing on Rebecca, it seemed.

“Nice try, but I’m allergic to prisons.”

LB

The process of re-installing Rebecca’s arm took most of the day, as opposed to the seconds it took to install biomods in the game. 

It was an intricate display of precision on Vik’s part. Wires had to be manually soldered. New connections had to be made between nerve endings. Digital to analogue converters had to be placed to interface the arm with her fleshy bits.

It was a process, and it was repulsive to me.

I’d chosen to walk back to the shop rather than open a door to it. It gave me time to reflect, to ruminate over the differences between the technology available in Cyberpunk and the methods revealed to me by the constellation.

The knowledge that came with my mastery of augmentation was futuristic, futuristic beyond measure. Comparatively, the method used in the cyberpunk universe for augmentation wasn’t just primitive, it was barbaric.

The method relied on replacing parts of the body piecemeal. It relied on tricking natural nerves into recognising cyberware as the replaced organ. It did not solve for atrophy, or neural degradation. It simply treated the body as a hub for plug and play devices without considering compatibility issues.

It was very indicative of how little the well-being of humans mattered in the Cyberpunk universe. Comparatively, the universe my knowledge of augmentation came from was a utopia. The sanctity of human health superseded everything else. It relied on evolution, on augmentation and compatibility. 

The fix for cyberpsychosis required a change in human biology, an inbuilt compatibility for cybernetics that would allow for seamless integration. 

In essence, I could create a drug that could allow for such an evolution. Yet, getting it past relevant authorities would be impossible, considering the esoteric and un-earthly components that would go into such a drug.

Yet, the idea had merit, I just needed more techniques from the constellation to make it happen. 

I was brought to a standstill as I came up to the door of the shop. I remembered closing it before I left. The ‘closed’ sign was still there, very much undisturbed, yet the door was slightly ajar.

That, and a blue information box was floating in front of it.

Shop Door Unlocked

Emergency Situation

I barged into the shop, retrieving my glock from its dimensional pocket by activating the ‘space’ and ‘storage’ runes on my gloves. I didn’t know what to expect, but by god I was going to be ready for it.

Except, as it turned out, I was definitely not ready for it.

Sasha lay on the ground, her abdomen was elevated by a pillow, still in its wrapping paper, as blood trickled out of what was unmistakenly a bullet wound. Next to her, Gloria was trying her best to staunch the bleeding from another wound on her thigh. 

“What the fuck happened?” I yelled, running up to them. The look of alarm on Gloria’s face was replaced instantly by relief as she saw my face. 

“Dios mio, Ryan. We need your help!” She yelled, her hands still moving, her experience as an EMT showing as she tried her best to keep Sasha alive.

“What happened to her?” I asked.

“We… we were closing a deal with some corpos in Heywood when we were jumped by some gonks.” She spoke, moving back as I kneeled next to Sasha. She was still breathing. Her injuries weren’t life-threatening, at least not now, considering she was in my shop. 

“Are you injured?” I asked, lifting Sasha. She was light, even lighter than I expected her to be. 

“No.. they… they shot at me, but Sasha jumped in.” She spoke, her voice quavering. “She took the shots meant for me. She… she’s the reason I’m alive.”

“The potion I gave you-” I started, opening the door to my workshop. 

“I already made her drink it. It’s the only reason she’s still alive.” Gloria commented. I winced. Maybe I’d have to step up production for higher quality potions sooner than I thought.

“Good. I need you to call Maine. Tell him to assemble his crew and get here as fast as they can.” I spoke, securing Sasha on the operating table of the bio module. The machines whirred to life, already starting diagnostics and basic live preservation subroutines.

“Whoever did this, they’re not going to get away easily.” I answered, as the door to my workshop closed, leaving me alone with Sasha, and the grim news delivered to me by the diagnostics update.

Her spine was shot through. Her spinal nerves were destroyed. Basic healing would leave her unable to move, if not worse. 

That was unacceptable. 

I had always been a believer of the simple adage. If someone works for you, they’re your people. If something happens to your people, you are responsible. Sasha was shot working for me. Gloria could have died working for me. 

Unacceptable.

Schematics appeared in front of me. I couldn’t give her the same upgrade package as myself, it was incompatible with her netrunner cyberwear, like trying to make a PS/2 port mouse work on a modern day PC. Like trying to connect to an HDMI display with a VGA cable.

No, I needed to simplify. I would make her body better, but without the cost of losing her speciality as a netrunner. I would save her life, I would make sure to enhance her.

And once I was done, I would deal with those who put her in this situation.

LB

“How is she?” 

It was Maine who asked the question as I exited the workshop. His entire crew was there, even Rebecca, whose eyes widened in surprise as she watched me walk out of my workshop.

“Yeah, she’s fine. She should wake up after a good night’s sleep.” I lied. Her body was still adapting to the augmentations I’d made, so I’d administered enough sleep agents to make sure she slept through the entire process.

“Gracias al Cielo.” Gloria exclaimed. Watching her shoulders sag as all her tension evaporated, leaving her exhausted, physically hurt me. I’d put them into this situation, even if they’d argue otherwise.

“Do we know who did this?” I asked in a commanding tone. My eyes landed on Kiwi, the older netrunner in the room. While her mask hid the majority of her face, the way she gestured with her eyes told me that they had already done their legwork, but she wasn’t the one with answers.

Following her gaze, my own sight landed on the person who knew, and one look at Lucy was enough to explain why David was so enamoured with her. She was the very definition of ‘cold beauty’. Yet, her looks did not matter as much as the info she held.

“It was the Maelstrom.” She spoke. Her voice was cool, level, but it didn’t perfectly hide the anger she was feeling, that everyone in the room was feeling.

“Maelstrom in Heywood?” I asked. As far as I knew, they rarely wandered outside of Watson.

“It was a splinter group, led by a borg named Endrick.” She continued. “I’d send you the details, but I guess the boss wasn’t lying when he said you’re all ‘ganic.”

“It was a hit. We combed through the records of a few fixers.” Kiwi interjected. The danger of messing with a fixer’s work was immense, yet, one of their own had been gravely injured. No risk was too great when it came to revenge.

But revenge wasn’t enough for me.

“Who ordered it?” I asked. The steel in my voice set even Pilar on edge, making him pay attention.

“We traced it back to realfoods, a subsidiary of Biotechnica that cultivates and sells substandard fresh.” She continued. “They present it as a grassroots startup, but there’s big money behind it.”

“A corporate hit then. Motivated by loss of profit or clientele.” Lucy finished.

I sighed. In my own perceived feeling of untouchability, I’d forgotten just how adamant Night City was when it came to crushing down anything that cost a corporation even the slightest of profits. While I was invincible in my shop and hard to kill outside of it, the people who I’d entrusted with my business were anything but.

This wouldn’t do. Night City needed to know that my people were not to be fucked with. Revenge would set them back, but given time, they’d brazenly try again, and there was always the possibility that they would succeed.

I needed to send a message.

“Thank you. You can retire till nightfall.” I spoke to them.

“The fuck you mean we can ‘retire’?” Dorio shot up, even as Maine was keeping his head down. “The gonks shot Sasha! She could have died!”

“And what do you suggest we do? Barge into their headquarters and start firing?” I asked, trying to curb my anger.

“It would surely beat sitting around doing nothing!” She shot back.

I shook my head. “No. All it would do is get you killed. We need a plan.”

“We?” She asked, eyebrows raised. “You’re saying you want to participate?

I regarded her with an impassive gaze. Dorio cared too much. It was her defining trait, and it had been her downfall. She was a good person, but she was driven by impulse, by emotion. This wasn’t a place for either.

No, this situation called for planning, for execution at a level that would make anyone think twice before trying to tangle with us. To educate them that were they to oppose me and mine, there wouldn’t be a force in the world that could save them.

Just like Arasaka had Adam Smasher, the boogeyman that every corp opposing them feared, Gloria’s operation needed its own boogeyman.

And as I pumped three thousand points into the war tech constellation, I promised myself that I would give Night City something to fear.

Canon Ability Unlocked

Proxy Wars

Gain access to all technology from the world of Metal Gear

I allowed myself a small smile. Night City was not ready for Metal Gears, for Shagohod, even though they could be considered primitive by a purely chronological standpoint.

No, their boogeyman needed to be faceless, needed to be human, but more. Yet, I had no desire to lose my body, and something like Raiden would be complete overkill for what I needed to accomplish. Yet two technologies stood out, two technologies that felt purpose-built to hard counter this entire world.

One wielded by a laughing Brazilian samurai, and the other by one hell of a senator. Mortal enemies who ended up working side by side, only to be foiled by someone who - had things been different - could have ended up on their side of the fence.

It was time for me to retreat to my workshop, and by the time I’d exit next, I’d be ready for war.

Night City would never be the same again.

LB

Chapter 1 after returning, woo! Two more to come before this week ends. One for Empyrean, and the other for Building an Empire!

Enjoy!