Cyberpunk: 2075

Following the directions, Carl and Oliver passed through an alley with a metal gate and arrived at a cybernetics clinic located in a converted basement. Carl, polite as always, greeted the black-haired middle-aged man sitting in front of a computer, watching a boxing match.

"Excuse me. Hello."

"A customer?"

Hearing the voice, the man turned around. He wore glasses, had sharp, defined features, and carried a calm and steady demeanor. His eyes landed on Carl and then briefly scanned Oliver, who stood beside him.

"In this city, it's rare to see such polite customers."

The ripperdoc, Viktor, focused his gaze on Carl.

"A young man with no cyberware," he thought.

As an experienced ripperdoc, Viktor could tell at a glance that Carl hadn't undergone any cybernetic enhancements. It didn't take long for him to guess why they were here.

"You're here for a neural interface, I assume?"

"Something like that," Carl replied.

Oliver, stepping in to help, asked, "Doc, what kind of operating systems do you have here, and how much do they cost?"

"I've got a Militech Paraline OS for 5,000 eurodollars, and a Ryat Electronics Model 1 for 7,500 eurodollars."

Hearing the price, Oliver's mouth twitched. "Doc, you're not seriously selling brand-new systems here, are you?"

Oliver had previously told Carl that the 3,000 eurodollars he'd scavenged would be more than enough for a basic neural interface. But that was based on Oliver's familiarity with second-hand and outdated cyberware. If the prices were this high, it could only mean that Viktor's systems were brand new. Unless Viktor somehow managed to sell old junk at premium prices (which was unlikely, considering the clinic's location in Watson), brand-new gear was the only explanation.

"I'm not some gang ripperdoc or one of those damned Scavs," Viktor replied, picking up a certificate from his desk and flashing it at the two. It was a legitimate license proving he was a certified ripperdoc.

"Well, s***," Oliver muttered.

His eyes glowed faintly as he checked his account balance. It showed a mere 1,400 eurodollars.

"Even if I chip in, it's still not enough," he thought.

Oliver had anticipated shady ripperdocs selling overpriced second-hand gear or old models, but he hadn't expected someone selling brand-new, certified equipment at fair market value.

A ripperdoc selling only new, high-quality products? This wasn't The Glen or Pacifica. In Santo Domingo, maybe, where folks like Niko had the resources and gang connections to secure great gear through "alternative means." But in Watson, it was almost unheard of.

Still, Viktor's straightforward honesty about selling only legitimate products reassured Oliver. It solidified his decision: even if he had to borrow money, he needed to ensure his newly-acquainted partner got an OS from a trustworthy ripperdoc like Viktor.

The reasoning was simple: ripperdocs dealing in second-hand or outdated cyberware often had shady connections with Scavs—those scum who trafficked in human organs and illegal implants.

A ripperdoc who openly admitted to only selling certified, high-quality equipment? That meant he wasn't involved with those scumbags. At the very least, it guaranteed a safe procedure. Carl wouldn't need to worry about being anesthetized and waking up in a Scav bathtub, missing half his organs.

Oliver quickly sent a short message to his sister.

[Sis, emergency. V me 500.]

"You need the full five thousand?"

Hearing the price and noticing Oliver's expression shift out of the corner of his eye, Carl checked his own funds. After counting his eurodollars, he realized he only had 3,200 eddies—still 1,800 short of the Militech Paraline OS.

So I looted gangsters, and I still can't afford a basic neural interface?

Beep.

[Where the hell are you? Your location tracker isn't in Santo Domingo.]

Oliver checked his account balance. It wasn't five hundred. It was five thousand.

[Thanks, Sis! Met a friend outside, I'll be back later. Love ya.]

[You only say nice things when you need money. I won't be back in Night City for two more days. Make sure you head home soon.]

[Got it.]

Finishing his exchange with his sister, Oliver was about to tell Carl the good news—that he now had the money—when he noticed Carl had already placed 3,200 eddies on Viktor's table and was heading toward the door.

"Hold on a sec, Viktor. Here's 3,200 eurodollars. I'll be right back with the rest."

Carl pulled back the slide of his Lexington, making sure the gun was chambered properly. He was about to step outside and "find something to do." Given Night City's gunfight frequency, it wouldn't take long to make up the difference.

"Wait, Carl!"

"Hold on, kid."

Oliver, exasperated by his partner's insanely direct approach, wasn't the only one stopping him—Viktor had also stepped in.

The ripperdoc glanced at Carl, then at the bloodstained eurodollars on his desk, and casually pointed at them.

"This is enough. It's not like I can't cut you a deal. Why are you in such a hurry? I'll do the Militech Paraline install for 3,000, and you keep the extra 200 eddies."

"…Wait, you can negotiate on prices?"

"Of course."

Viktor let out a chuckle and looked at their surprised expressions.

"What I'm curious about is why neither of you even tried. You just accepted my price outright."

"Well… I just found out ripperdocs can haggle…"

Oliver, wanting to appear experienced in front of Carl, had actually never negotiated for cyberware before. His sister had always handled it for him.

The moment he heard it was only 3,000, he immediately transferred the money back to his sister and dragged Carl back to Viktor's desk.

Viktor stood up, carefully looking Carl over before asking:

"He called you Carl earlier, right? How old are you? Any previous surgeries?"

Carl decided to go with his current appearance rather than his real age.

"Eighteen. And no, I've never had any surgeries."

"So you're completely natural, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Then this surgery might take a bit longer. You'll also need time to adapt afterward. First time for everything—no need to worry. I'll make sure the anesthetic is solid. Now, do you want to stay awake during the procedure, or just feel the whole thing?"

Even with pain suppressed, the sensation of being worked on would still be very real.

Carl thought about it. Maybe experiencing getting cut open wouldn't be such a bad "first-time experience."

"Let's do it without full sedation."

"Alright then. Get comfortable and get ready. I'll prep the equipment. In a few hours, you'll be reborn."

Ten minutes later, Carl was lying on the surgical chair.

The operation began.