Cyberpunk: XYZ

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Chapter 36: Victims Of Dreams I

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X performed a very in-depth scan as he listened to her narration, his brows furrowed, "Wow... I couldn't do a worse job if I wanted to."

Chiyo frowned as she calibrated the parameters, "Fingers isn't exactly known for being good, but this... When did he operate on you?"

"Th-Three years ago," Answered the client.

"Um, must've done a half-assed job to get him to come back for maintenance. He couldn't afford it, so it only got worse from there. Some Ripperdocs do that," Chiyo speculated.

"So he's bad at what he does but also intentionally bad?" X raised a brow as he questioned while injecting the client with an anesthetic, a very strong one.

"Not totally sure, but Fingers usually offers his ripperdoc services for free to new clients, asking them to pay only what they can, seems generous but it's not."

"The implants and prosthetics offered by Fingers are second-hand retreads at best, and at worst they are obsolete, damaged, or defective."

"These shoddy implants cause his patients more problems down the line, forcing them to return to him sooner or later out of desperation."

"I heard that he does this more so to prey on them, groping and well... You know, assault them during procedures, knowing they will tolerate it because they cannot afford a more scrupulous Ripperdoc." Chiyo explained.

X's cybernetic eye displayed the scan data before him, quickly scrolling through it and determining the best course of action.

The client's arm was a mess, and not just from the needles he'd stabbed into it.

Beneath the mottled, raw skin lay a jumble of mismatched wiring, cheap metal, and unfinished nerve connections; a mark of Fingers' infamous handiwork.

The implant, likely scavenged or recycled, was forged from low-grade alloys that irritated the tissues they touched, that apparently triggering inflammation and an itch so intense it bordered on madness.

Inside the arm, the nerves were a misaligned tangle, crudely spliced and improperly attached, sending chaotic signals racing through the limb.

Fingers had either neglected calibration entirely or had botched it so severely that the implant registered every harmless touch as a pinprick, every flex as a surge of prickling discomfort.

X knew that a cheap doc like Fingers wouldn't have bothered with the delicate alignment process, and without it, the client's brain was left to interpret the garbled impulses as a deep, unreachable itch.

Worse still, it seemed Fingers had failed to include any insulation in the wiring, leaving the implant vulnerable to electromagnetic interference.

That's a shortcut that only amplified the sensation and fed it back into the man's nervous system like static.

But that was only the start of the nightmare. From the signs of redness and the thin, oozing sores, X could tell the arm was most likely infected.

The clinic where Fingers worked wasn't known for hygiene, and the implant had probably been installed in a dark corner, dirt and grime seeping into the surgical site.

Infection had taken root, forming a subtle biofilm under the surface, turning the implant into a breeding ground.

This type of low-grade infection would aggravate the nerves constantly, like an itch that deepened with each passing day, urging the man to claw at his own flesh just for a moment of relief.

Even the synthetic skin overlay was a cruel afterthought, clearly chosen for cost rather than quality.

The thin, poorly crafted layer didn't move naturally over the implant and likely tugged on the scarred edges where Fingers had stitched him up haphazardly.

Each pull and shift created fresh irritation, mimicking a perpetual, crawling itch that could drive anyone to desperation.

As X observed the damage, he understood that Fingers had left this man trapped in the torment of his own body.

It was a macabre twist of pain and technology, a reminder of what happened when cyberware went wrong in the hands of someone unfit to wield it.

It felt oddly satisfying, to understand a man's life just from one scan. X had to wonder how the powerful AIs of this world experience things.

X wondered if provided the entire variables of a person, would they be able to predict their future? Would they be able to reshape his entire existence if they so wished?

X refocused on the patient as he mapped out every damaged nerve connection, faulty wire, and infected area, "Sterilize the area."

"Already done, and I sterilized the tools too." Said Chiyo.

"Calibrate the mechanical arms for nerve issues and let's get to work."

X started by removing the faulty implant, carefully detaching it from the nerve bundles to avoid further damage.

He cleaned out the inflamed tissue, removing any trace of infection with a series of antibacterial rinses and precise cuts.

Next, he meticulously installed a decent quality implant made from biocompatible alloys, ensuring it matched the client's physiology decently well.

X also added a protective insulation layer to the new implant, shielding it from external interference and preventing stray electrical impulses from triggering random sensations.

Once the new implant was in place, X took his time with the nerve connections.

Using advanced tools, he recalibrated the nerve endings with an interface that allowed him to simulate and test sensations in real time.

Each nerve was carefully reattached and aligned to ensure smooth, accurate feedback, eliminating any unnecessary signals that might otherwise trigger itching or pain.

He ended with a gentle overlay of synthetic skin, designed to move and stretch with the client's natural anatomy, minimizing irritation.

"You may not be able to afford the operation, but you should be able to afford these meds. They're cheap," X informed the patient as he prescribed him some meds.

"..." The patient was seemingly speechless as he eyed his arm which looked nothing like it was before.

The patient's arm no longer looked polluted. He no longer felt like ending himself, "Thank you... Thank you," He sobbed his words out, "You need anything... Tell me."

"Name," X asked.

"Hachirou,"

"Very well, all I need from you is to go to the waiting lounge and rest. When you feel better, you can go," X instructed, "If you wanna help, just spread the word."

"I'm surprised you'd go so far," Chiyo commented once the patient left, "You're going far and beyond, just losing money this way."

"It's an investment... In fact, I plan to make this a regular thing. Every Monday, we can choose ten individuals who have applied and help them, for mostly medical issues," X stroked his chin, in deep thought.

"It's exhausting," Chiyo sat on the chair by the side, "How many patients did we go through? Thirty? That's way too much."

"Next client," X wasn't done just yet. He still had the energy to go, and he found himself enjoying dissecting his patients and then stitching them back and better.

All the experience it provides was wonderful. He found himself becoming better and better.

That's mostly because of all the weird absurd cases he faced on the very first day, and he faced them exactly because of his free service.

The clients were people at the bottom of the barrel who could not afford even a session of maintenance; their bodies were desperate and they were desperate for relief.

The next patient was a junkie that crawled into the clinic, eyes bloodshot and leaking a thick, milky fluid from his cyber-optics.

They were installed by a street doc as payment for a debt, but they're incompatible with his nervous system and loaded with faulty software. Each optic flits around his sockets, struggling to stay in sync with his head movements, and visual glitches warp his sight until he sees phantom shadows, streaks of light, and nightmarish images.

The eyes emit a soft whir as they overheat, pressing painfully against the delicate nerves around his sockets.

The man's reality has turned into a horror show, seeing ghosts that make his life a living hell.

It's in cases like this where X felt glad he's proficient in Netrunning because the cyber eyes' software was so faulty that even attempting extraction led the junkie to seize up, screaming as the optic nerves misfire, shooting waves of pain directly into his brain.

X had to rewrite the Cyber Eyes' software in its entirety before he could extract them, "Let me see what I can do with them. You take care of his eye sockets."

He was generous today, but not so generous that he would give out free Cyber Eyes. Those things are too pricey.

Chiyo went to work, cleaning the patient's rotten eye sockets, thoroughly inflamed and fried.

X, on the other hand, tinkered with the Cyber Eyes, cleaning and fixing them with whatever tools he had available.

"I couldn't run a deep modification on them. They should be compatible with you now at the cost of all their features. All they can do now is allow you to see, with ok vision," X clarified.

"Huh?? Wait! Really? I-I won't be seein' things again, would I?" The client seemed awestruck. He only ever wanted to get rid of the eyes which made him live a horror game.

It didn't matter to him if he was blind, yet now he was being told he could keep his vision... He was left bewildered... Good things are a rarity in Night City.