Cyberpunk: 2075

The mega-skyscraper was located in Watson, Night City. Carl only had to think for a moment before the details about the district surfaced in his mind.

Watson District: Watson was once an industrial area filled with skyscrapers, nightclubs, corporate offices, top-tier medical centers, and bustling food streets. It was supposed to be the heart of Night City—until the financial crisis destroyed everything. Now, Watson is the poorest district in Night City, home to its two most dangerous gangs: the Tyger Claws and the Maelstrom, who roam the slums and back alleys.

NCPD Danger Level Assessment: Extremely Dangerous.

The NCPD, or Night City Police Department, made it clear that Carl's current location was dangerous even for law enforcement officers.

"Waking up in a place like this… Is this luck, or not?" Carl thought to himself.

Still, he was hungry, and the moment he stepped outside, several food stalls greeted him. Their signs displayed East Asian cuisine, something he was familiar with.

It made sense—after all, Carl was now in Little China.

[Little China: Originally an extension of the city center, it was planned as a second downtown during Night City's reconstruction. Corporations invested heavily in its development, and in the 2040s, the district saw an influx of East Asian immigrants, mostly Chinese. This led to its nickname, "Little China." However, as Watson was abandoned, Little China became one of Night City's poorest areas.]

Carl walked up to one of the stall owners. He glanced at the damaged seat cushions, their brown foam visible through the tears. His eyes swept over the greasy table surface, still dotted with bits of leftover food. After a quick scan, he found a relatively clean seat and sat down.

Other customers were seated at the stall, and the owner was busy preparing food for them. During a brief moment, the owner called out to Carl:

"Menus are on the screen. Just let me know when you've decided!"

Following the owner's greasy finger, Carl saw that what used to be a tabletop was now replaced by a glowing digital screen. The menu was displayed there, showcasing a variety of dishes with their prices.

Judging by the pictures, the food looked appetizing.

Unfortunately, Carl knew a little too much. As soon as he saw the images, he understood the reality behind them.

In this world, truly fresh organic food was a rare luxury reserved for the elite. Street food stalls like this relied on supplies from protein farms and all-food factories. Artificial meat, hydroponic vegetables, and synthetic spices made up the bulk of Night City's cuisine. And the raw ingredients? They often came from wriggling white worms and algae.

Of course, less regulated food factories might add in some "surprise" ingredients for variety, but you'd be naive to expect rat meat. In this era, rats—contaminated or not—were considered rare delicacies, something you could brag about. In fact, rats were scarcer than the corporate lapdogs wandering the streets.

As images of worms and locusts flashed through his mind, Carl decided there was no need to embrace the extremes right away. His gaze shifted to the vegetarian options.

"Algae's not too bad," he thought.

He spotted Chinese Cold Noodles. Judging by the picture, this dish seemed like the simplest vegetarian option available. Though traditional cold noodles were usually based on chicken or beef broth, this version seemed more basic.

The noodles themselves, however, were likely made from wheat—one of the few ingredients Carl felt confident about. Wheat was more cost-effective compared to other alternatives, which explained why it was still used.

In the United States, Petrochem was the only company licensed to commercially grow genetically modified wheat. This wheat was a high-sugar grain designed for catalyzing and fermenting into CHOOH2, a synthetic alcohol that had become the world's standard combustible fuel. Petrochem and its subsidiaries controlled millions of acres of farmland in the U.S., and during harvest season, there was often a surplus of this wheat. The excess was sold to food factories or, as part of public relations campaigns, donated to impoverished countries under the guise of "humanitarian aid."

Fortunately for Night City, some of Petrochem's farmland was nearby, ensuring a steady supply of normal wheat for making staple foods like noodles.

Word on the street was that this genetically modified wheat tasted amazing. Carl wasn't sure if that was true.

He checked the price of the so-called Chinese noodles, which were actually a traditional Korean dish. The cost? Three eurodollars.

Considering that this food stall was located in a poverty-stricken area, and that this was a vegetarian noodle dish, the price seemed to be the equivalent of "poor people's pricing" compared to other places. Still, at three eurodollars for one meal, it was clear that the euro in this world was very different from the euro in his previous life—after years of inflation.

In the past, three eurodollars were equivalent to about 23 units of Carl's home country's currency. But now, their value seemed almost identical.

With this new knowledge and information stored in his mind, Carl felt he had adapted a little more to this city.

"Boss, one order of cold noodles, please," Carl said.

Just as he reached into his pocket to pay, ready to try the taste of the noodles, an unexpected event—or rather, what was just another day in Night City—unfolded.

"Boom."

A kinetic handgun fired, the explosive crack of the bullet leaving the chamber echoing through the air.

The head of the food stall owner in front of Carl burst open.

This wasn't some exaggerated metaphor. It was literal. Red and white matter sprayed everywhere as the skull failed to contain its contents.

Unidentifiable liquids, along with fragments of bone, splattered across Carl's face. He blinked, clearing the blood obstructing his vision, and saw the headless body collapse to the ground, mid-turn in response to the shouting.

"F*** you, 6th Street Gang! You dare step onto Maelstrom territory?! Let Grandpa here show you what's what!"

In the distance, Carl heard the wild yelling. He noticed the people who had been sitting across from him were now expertly huddled under the stall's table. Their swift reaction and practiced ease were truly impressive.

Listening to the shouting and gunfire echoing from a hundred meters away, Carl processed the situation in a single second.

Two gangs had started a shootout, and the stall owner had been unlucky enough to catch a stray bullet.

If that stray bullet had hit him instead, his head would've been the one bursting open.

This city…

"How the hell is anyone supposed to get used to this?"

Carl wiped the blood from his face, his hand already gripping the handgun.

"Can't even eat in peace! F*** your whole family!"