Arthur returned to his modest ho in Santo Domingo, the dim hallway lighting flickering as he opened the door and stepped inside. The place slled faintly of machine oil and reheated noodles—exactly the way he'd left it. Before he could even hang up his coat or stretch his aching limbs, a voice from the other room greeted him with a familiar mix of irritation and desperation.
"Dad, you forgot to renew the subscription again! The washing machine won't work!"
Arthur's eye twitched as he exhaled slowly. He peeled off his weathered windbreaker, tossed it lazily onto the sofa, and strolled toward the sound of his son's voice like a man walking into battle.
In the cramped laundry corner, David stood next to the squat, boxy washer with a scowl on his face. Arthur studied the machine with the kind of disdain usually reserved for old enemies. Its display panel blinked red, taunting him.
This was life in Night City: where even your appliances needed a subscription. Rent, water, power—hell, if you breathed too loudly, a Corpo landlord might try to charge you for "ambient noise pollution."
Arthur sighed. "You alright, kid?"
David glanced over, a little surprised. "You're back?"
"Yep. In one piece." Arthur crouched in front of the washing machine and smirked. "You've been going to Arasaka Academy all this ti, and you still can't hack a washer? Seriously?"
David blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I—I study business managent and counter-intelligence! Not... appliance hacking."
Arthur chuckled and added with a straight face, "Your Aunt Lucy was hijacking ICE firewalls at your age. Hell, if she wanted to do laundry back then, the landlord paid her."
David rolled his eyes. "I thought the machine was just broken. Didn't expect to need netrunning skills to do the laundry."
Arthur opened his battered toolbox and pulled out a screwdriver. He crouched beside the washing machine, pried open a panel, and started poking at the guts inside like a surgeon mid-operation. Sparks popped, and the display dimd. A few monts later, the red warning light blinked off.
"You see, these ICE systems are just glorified firewalls," Arthur began, talking as he worked. "After the first Net crash, so idiot tried to beco a god through hacking—nearly killed the grid. Now everything's firewalled, even toasters."
He jiggled a connector. The machine let out a cheerful chi and powered on.
"These units are all built by subcontractors. They install so cheap chip to check if the subscription's been paid. If yes, the power flows. If not, the machine acts like it's dead."
David watched in awe as the machine's drum began to spin. "You just bypassed all that? Like, rewired it?"
Arthur handed him the screwdriver. "David, let teach you sothing important about Night City: when the system screws you, you screw it back."
David held the tool like it was so kind of holy relic. "Isn't this, like, illegal?"
Arthur plopped onto the couch and leaned back, arms folded behind his head. "Is it illegal to survive? Is it illegal to breathe unaudited air in Night City? If so, then I guess we're all criminals."
David frowned, but couldn't argue. "So what's next? Should I learn to reprogram the coffee maker?"
Arthur nodded sagely. "Start small. Next week, we'll teach you how to jailbreak the rice cooker."
They both laughed.
"Seriously though, what kind of world is this where I need a hacking degree to wash my underwear?" David asked.
"The kind of world where underwear is optional," Arthur replied, deadpan.
David groaned. "I can't believe I'm living in a cyberpunk sitcom."
Arthur stretched. "It's better than living in a corpo comrcial. At least in this house, the ads don't talk back."
David leaned against the washer, arms crossed. "You're seriously telling that what we just did—was so kind of rebellion against the system?"
Arthur smirked. "Absolutely. We're the frontline. The guerilla warriors of hygiene."
David raised an eyebrow. "So... I guess this makes a freedom fighter?"
Arthur stood and clapped a hand on David's shoulder. "Son, today you joined the resistance. Tomorrow, maybe we hack the fridge."
David rolled his eyes again but couldn't suppress the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I swear, if you weren't my dad, I'd have reported you to the Ethics Committee."
Arthur grinned. "And they'd offer a consulting job."
They stood in silence for a mont, the rumble of the washing machine filling the space like background music. In the distance, the neon skyline of Night City pulsed through the dusty blinds, its glow faintly reflecting in the washing machine's chro surface.
"Hey Dad," David said after a pause, "You ever think this is all a bit... ridiculous?"
Arthur looked at him. "The world, or what we just did?"
"Both."
Arthur laughed. "Every second of it. But if you can laugh at it, you're still winning."
David nodded thoughtfully, then broke into a mischievous smile. "Maybe I should beco a stand-up comic."
Arthur raised a brow. "Honestly? You've got the timing. Neon TV's always looking for fresh talent. Half the city's codians are forr netrunners or failed solo rcs anyway."
"Great," David said. "I'll open with: 'You ever try to do laundry in Night City? It's a heist.'"
Arthur howled with laughter. "Perfect. You'll kill. Just rember, when you're rich and famous, don't forget the old man who taught you how to steal detergent."
They both laughed again, and for the first ti in a while, things felt... normal. Or as normal as they could be in a place like this.
David leaned back against the wall, watching the washer spin. "Thanks, Dad. Seriously."
Arthur waved him off. "Don't ntion it. Just rember—when the fridge locks you out next ti, don't call custor support. Call your old man."
David grinned. "Got it. Viva la resistance, right?"
Arthur chuckled, reaching for another smoke. "Viva la laundry."
[Visit our Patreon for more:]
patreon/Samurai492
Reviews
All reviews (0)