John’s already fragile nerves suffered heavy damage.
He lay on the floor, eyes vacant, with blood oozing from his nostrils, eyes, and ears.
[Eden City - East District Underground Clinic]
Information appeared in front of John’s eyes.
He regained a bit of consciousness, yet his brain felt like thick sludge.
In the darkness, Alonna’s voice ca through.
"This thing is beeping."
"The side effects of Oga are too severe, and propofol... which is the anesthesia, has little effect on him. Waking up midway is normal."
Ryan Randall replied.
He seed to be standing behind John. Besides the conversation, there were strange, sticky, unpleasant sounds...
"Блядь. It’s disgusting."
Talia was there too, sounding sowhat disgusted. "John probably trusts you a lot, you have to keep him alive."
"I’m really f*cked."
Ryan seed very irritable.
"I’m performing surgery, cracking open his skull to dig out brain matter, you understand? Can you shut up? This is completely unfair. I don’t owe any Shark Coins, and he can’t keep half-killing himself and then expect to work miracles at my operating table every ti."
...
John let out a hoarse breath.
He regained consciousness once again.
He had no idea how much ti had passed.
John just felt his brain boiling and dizzy, from the back of his head to his tailbone was warm, and he couldn’t muster even an ounce of strength from his body.
"Welco back."
Ryan Randall turned on the lights.
John’s weak and pale face slowly rose with the tal surgical chair.
His prosthetic eye restarted twice before successfully focusing.
The pain followed in.
"F*ck..."
John gritted his teeth to endure but found he couldn’t move his gaze; it seed his head was fixed with a restraint strap.
The chanical arm rotated on the ceiling.
He felt sothing operating behind his head, and the tal tray beside him was piled with blood-stained surgical consumables.
"Lucky fool, ah, every ti bringing a different chick to my clinic..."
Ryan smacked his lips.
"That blonde girl, talked coldly, but her implants are really good. Can I get her contact? If she needs an upgrade later, she can co to for the surgery; I’ll give an 20% discount, and I’ll buy back the parts at the black market rate."
He said, savoring his words, then picked up a glass to drink.
"Here... I... uh, what happened?"
John weakly asked about his condition.
"Heh."
Ryan let out a cold laugh. "Don’t you have any idea yourself?"
The doctor was in a nasty mood.
"Cyber-psychosis doesn’t stop its steps. I treat every conversation like it’s the last ti we’ll et, yet you always show up half-dead on my operating table, precisely on the edge of technology; if the scalpel is off by a bit, if the actions slow by a few seconds, you’ll be gone... and every ti, f*cking luck is on your side."
Ryan Randall stared at him expressionlessly.
The wall showed the ti was three in the morning, indicating that the surgery seed to have lasted a long ti. Empty casings of stimulant dications were scattered on the floor.
John let out a weak, bitter smile.
"Thanks, doctor."
"No."
Ryan pursed his lips and shook his head.
"This is bullshit, and it irritates ."
He briefly recounted to John what had happened during this ti.
The scrapyard battle was two days ago; it was being reported in the morning news and the midnight radio.
Damascus Camp and the Exile broke into conflict.
There were several more bloody gunfights of varying scales that followed. Eden City Police Station issued a Class A traffic warning, advising companies and citizens not to go outside the city lightly and definitely not near the Border Wall.
John was rescued after being seriously injured.
Camp dics tried their best to hold onto his life.
Talia proposed sending John to Ryan’s place, while Nando suggested sending him to Gaia Cells’ private clinic for treatnt at the camp’s expense, and finally, Alonna decided to try the East District first...
"The surgery was sowhat successful, at least this ti it was."
Ryan said.
John caught the implication beneath his words.
"How’s my brain?"
"Good news is, your cyber-psychosis is stable."
Plato’s Warehouse was blown up, and Ironfoot Kelp got hold of many experintal products.
The laboratory publicly offered rewards online for everything, with hackers having extracted a detailed list and selling it for a re one Euro, practically giving thieves a user manual, much to the anger of the Plato managent.
After the battle at the scrapyard, Damascus Camp indeed found sothing that could help John.
Ryan’s artificial eye flickered.
He flipped the computer screen, displaying the list, and clicked on one of the item’s files.
"Graphene chip?"
John read out the project’s na.
The product doesn’t have a registered serial number.
It’s used for remote patient monitoring, optimizing dical resources, and most importantly, for neural intervention.
The brain implant’s design incorporates a simplified intelligent program.
It was initially designed for treating tumors in the elite class, known from its functionality—capable of detecting nerve signals and coordinating with other implants.
"It’s basically a brain motor, building a command center between the flesh and prosthetics, helping distribute pressure from the frontal lobe and other organs, and improving your neural environnt."
Ryan tried to explain in layman’s terms.
"Similar products exist in the market, called regulators, but the ones in the black market aren’t as impressive; this is a new thing from Plato Laboratory."
He opened the project information.
Just by reading the description, one knows how rare this thing is.
Its material strength is 200 tis that of aluminum, yet it boasts flexibility and biocompatibility.
It can be used to treat neurological diseases like Parkinson’s, epilepsy, depression, and Alzheir’s disease.
As a brain implant, its invasiveness is minimal.
Currently, this graphene chip just succeeded in the experint, hasn’t passed internal approval or production optimization. Excluding samples at the European Headquarters, only a few have flowed into the Eden City Plato Laboratory.
Damascus Camp found a sealed box in the scrapyard, but most slots inside were empty.
Ironfoot Kelp used up all but the last two.
"One of them is in your brain."
Ryan stared at John, tapping his temple.
[Threshold: 10%[Error]]
"Is my cyberpsychosis stabilized?"
John showed a joyful expression.
Ryan’s face fell, instructing him to directly uninstall the program detecting the threshold.
"The graphene chip indeed saved your life, but this thing only bought you a chance."
He brought out the diagnostic report to explain.
John can now perform simple prosthetic modifications and isn’t affected by hallucinations and emotional instability.
"But the symptoms of implant erosion are serious and there’s accompanying tissue integration..."
"F*ck, speak plainly, doctor!"
John got a bit irritable, wanting to raise his hand to cover his head, but was restrained by tallic cuffs on the surgical chair.
Ryan sighed, pronouncing judgnt with a blank face.
"At most four days, your body will be paralyzed, the graphene chip gave you a brief resurgence before death."
The room fell silent.
The doctor picked up a wine glass, approached to release the restraints, and moved the stitching robotic arm away from behind the surgical chair.
"This is most likely the last ti I’ll see you."
Ryan handed the wine to him.
John pushed himself up with a serious expression, reaching up to find a damp scar behind his head.
He didn’t touch the wine, surprising Ryan.
John calmly picked up a nearby blood-stained coat and settled the dical fees according to the list on the monitor.
He noticed a large sum of money in his account.
[Contact - Nando Brahimi [Unread ssage]]
[Very sorry, we’re tied up with Kelp, really couldn’t spare ti to accompany you to the clinic, Talia said you’ve already had surgery and temporarily aren’t in mortal danger.]
[You did us a great favor this ti, brother; everyone turned the scrapyard upside down and only found two chips, hope they help you. Of course, the paynt will be settled separately.]
John’s artificial eye flickered, while he dressed, preparing to purchase so combat dications from the terminal at the clinic.
Ryan solemnly folded his arms.
He watched John calmly handle information, not collapsing even after being handed a death sentence.
"So resilient?"
"What else can I do, crying can’t save my life."
"Got any plans?"
"No, I reckon there’s no saving , so... I’m planning to go to the Internet Surveillance Office."
John revealed his plan.
Ryan’s eyebrow twitched, he asked sowhat puzzledly, "You want them to deactivate the Black Ice Program?"
John shook his head.
"Sort of, but I’ll go with a bomb, doctor, it’s truly a pleasure knowing you in Eden City."
He transferred all the money in his account to Ryan, then left the underground clinic amidst the doctor’s angry roars and curses.
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