The Fall of Icarus (Cyberpunk)

Outgoing video call - John O'Brian (Bakkers)

Call accepted - establishing connection

"Hello?" A slightly tired male voice answered.

"Hey John, it's me, Susan. Remember you offered me a chance to join the Bakkers clan about a month ago?" Mitchell didn't beat around the bush and immediately addressed the question that interested her.

"Hard to forget..." The nomad yawned lengthily, unsuccessfully trying to fend off his drowsiness.

"Well, due to certain events, I'm ready to accept your offer. But I have one condition... I'll be bringing four children over ten years old with me." The woman held her breath, awaiting John's decision.

"Hm, may I ask how you ended up with so many?" The man was surprised, mentally calculating the circumstances under which his interlocutor could have ended up caring for so many children. He was aware of one, but the presence of three more was a mystery to him.

"They're not my own, but I've been looking after them, you understand. My conscience won't let me abandon them." Susan finished preparing for her new hand installation, settling comfortably in the medical chair. The procedure would be automated, allowing her to continue this important conversation without interference.

"Got attached to them, huh... Alright, I take it the little genius is also coming with you?" The nomad inquired with interest.

"Where else would he go." Mitchell snorted, rolling her eyes in her usual manner. "The other kids are talented too and won't be left with nothing to do. The guy has taught them a lot, and your way of life will help them gain experience quickly. It won't be a hindrance to Alex either."

"Alright, when's the best time to pick you up? Seems like you're running out of time and are quite constrained in that resource right now."

"Exactly, if you can, bring a tractor and a couple of jeeps. I've got a lot of useful junk that will definitely come in handy for you." The brunette briefly distracted by a pop-up message, confirming the start of the augmentation installation. Anesthesia was unnecessary, as the operation was performed entirely on the implanted part of the arm. The Maelstrom members had carefully, even delicately, removed her arm, saving a lot of time. They clearly planned to put the limb back in place after some time. More precisely, when Sue finally stops resisting and resumes work.

"That's where you should have started." The man perked up, hearing the coveted word - "freebies". "I'll take a few of our "Mules" and my "Gecko". That should be more than enough. We'll arrive in three hours."

"Good, I'll be waiting."

Call ended, connection terminated

Susan tiredly closed her eyes, replaying recent events in her mind. To think, a trio of young kids managed to snatch her right from the clutches of a gang. Of course, many nuances had to be considered, including the Maelstrom's negligence and their blind faith in having thoroughly covered their tracks. It could be said they were simply unlucky, which wasn't far from the truth. Alone, Alex had too little chance; he even admitted as much, but the timely assistance of brothers at hand helped him solve the problem during the rescue operation.

The boy, not yet ten years old, had managed to hack the city's surveillance system. Sure, its security wasn't top-notch, but it was more than enough for an incautious runner. According to some slips of the tongue, the guy managed to stumble upon it and somehow hack the system before it could fry his brain. Thinking about it, this explains how he so effortlessly hacks into people's implants with just a single cyberdeck, albeit practically the best in its class.

Many non-runners need special chairs or, at the very least, an accelerator cable and a tub of ice to prevent their brains from turning to mush during the acceleration of consciousness. Alex's body is truly incredible, but still, he needs to be more careful. His abilities are phenomenal, but even they could fail the young genius one day.

"Susan, I'm pleased to inform you that the operation was a success. The current level of nervous system synchronization is 83%. I recommend you take a rebound to speed up the neurodrift (a fictional term indicating the speed of signal transmission back and forth)," a synthesized voice of the assistant announced, pulling the woman from her thoughts. "Also, I note that the amount of fast carbohydrates in your diet has significantly exceeded the norm. I advise you to follow my balanced diet plan."

"Yes, yes, I'll think about it, thanks, Doc." Susan slowly rose from the operating chair and, checking her hand's responsiveness, stretched satisfactorily. The spare limbs had indeed come in handy; old Li had insisted she buy three pairs of spare arms, which he very aptly sold to her for half the market price.

"Always welcome. Stay healthy, Susan." The electronic assistant, having completed its programmed tasks, ceased operation, finishing the simulation coded into its system. "Doc" is an advanced prototype of virtual intelligence, significantly outperforming its juniors in command execution quality but, like them, is limited in capabilities. Some might mistakenly think it's a full-fledged AI, but it's not.

The creators of this marvel really put in the effort to simulate human consciousness. Inside its electronic brains are specified several million possible responses, which are updated every month. All that's needed is to download the latest version of "Doc," though every time it requires cleaning the VI (Virtual Intelligence) from spyware and other junk that benevolent manufacturers love to embed in their product.

Looking around, the woman couldn't help but sigh. Over more than two years, she had grown accustomed to her small apartment. She was familiar with every corner. For instance, the chip on the worktable resulted from a forceful hand strike. Susan had been furious with a client who managed to cheat her. Of course, the idiot quickly paid for his decision, but the incident itself was unpleasant. No one likes being deceived, even if the trickster ends up getting what they deserve.

"Well, I was planning to leave this place sooner or later anyway, so why lament over what happened..." The woman nodded to herself and began to methodically disconnect the equipment. She needed to unscrew every bolt before the nomads arrived. If she couldn't finish in time, the guys would help her, but Susan didn't want to hear the men's grumbling complaints...

***

"Finally finished." I rubbed my hands together with satisfaction, looking over the fruits of my labor. The 3D printer required some extra effort, but I managed to dismantle everything within my power and then some. All that's left is to load it into the vehicle, which will be someone else's job. Sometimes it's good to be small, pity it's only sometimes.

I'm not sure when the Bakkers clan will arrive, but as I have some free time, I'll dig into the news, maybe I'll find something interesting... Flipping through several channels of corporate talking heads, I stumbled upon a local information resource covering the day's events.

"Welcome to Channel 54 news. This evening, on the outskirts of Watson near the port area, another gang skirmish occurred. Preliminary reports indicate that one of the leaders of the Maelstrom gang, Anderson, was killed. Residents of the area are advised to be more cautious when out on the streets. Gang activity in the city has reached a record high, and analysts are giving grim forecasts…"

Funny... It's unlikely that the idiot with the grenade was the same Anderson, but it seems anything's possible. The Maelstrom gang is a bunch of nutjobs, and only "the creator" knows what goes on in their reckless heads... Couldn't find anything more interesting, except a few lines about Biotech finally launching their new drug "Securicin". A new generation painkiller, which, according to the manufacturers, is almost a panacea for future customers.

"Lies," in a word, and judging by the speed at which this "medicine" moved from trial phase to production, it likely has a host of hidden side effects. Preliminary data suggested the drug was supposed to launch a year later, but it's probable that the new drug from Arasaka Corporation, produced in conjunction with Trauma Corporation, pressured BioTech into releasing "Securicin" early.

"Hey, is anyone home?" A vaguely familiar voice called out. Turning my head towards the entrance, I saw the very John who not too long ago sold us the printer.

"Yep, I've got everything ready, just need to load the goods into the vehicles." I pointed to the items laid out in boxes.

"Good to hear. Hey guys, we've got work." The man smiled and, shouting over his shoulder, began to quickly load the items into the vehicle.

At first, I just casually watched people bustling back and forth, but then I got bored sitting still and decided to help. The boxes weren't too heavy, at least not for me. In the end, we finished quite quickly. I hardly noticed when all the items were packed into a trailer-container pulled by one of the "Thornton" model SUVs.

The vehicle was clearly modified for the harsh conditions of the Mojave wastelands. At least its exterior suggested so, but as for the internals, I couldn't say. That's not my area of expertise; that's better left to the brothers, who'll grow up to be quite the "tuning maniacs".

"Sit in the car for now, we won't need your help anymore." John placed his hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention.

"As you say..." Shrugging, I settled into the front seat of the SUV, adjusting it for my height. Even a child could understand the labels on the door panel, which, in the eyes of others, is what I am.

With nothing much to do, I turned on some music and fell into a sort of doze. Although I managed to snatch a few hours of sleep, it wasn't enough for my body. No wonder I fell asleep, waking up to the knocking of the neighboring door. John waved at me, indicating I could go back to sleep, which I graciously did. Sleep...

***

John's Gecko

"I didn't think you'd have so much useful junk." John turned back to his companion, who was seated in the back of the car, with a smirk.

"As if you're one to talk. You're always in need of something, so I grabbed everything that wasn't nailed down." The woman snorted, leaning back into her seat.

"Ah, but knowing you, you took even what was, as you say, 'nailed down'." The man turned back around, pausing briefly. "We're ready, we can leave now."

"Step on it. I'm sick of this city." The brunette waved dismissively, glancing half-heartedly at the sleeping Alex. The boy was snoring quietly in the front seat, unsurprisingly, given his brain had undergone a serious workout today. He desperately needed a good rest, or there could be unpleasant consequences.

"You two have similar habits, like mother and son." The nomad voiced his observation, trying to break the ensuing silence.

"More like brother and sister." The woman corrected her interlocutor, thereby clearly defining the relationship between herself and Alex to him.

"Even so..." The man drew out, finally starting the ignition. "Well, in that case, I hope the little one will like it with us." The car slowly moved off. "Oh yes, almost forgot, you'll have to cover your implants with skin. Sand in the wastelands often clogs up electronics, but you know that already."

"Thanks for the tip." Susan nodded, agreeing with John's advice. The rest of the journey passed in relative silence, only occasionally broken by O'Brian with another question. The man was trying to alleviate the discomfort that had arisen between them.

They had a long journey ahead to the Bakkers clan's temporary camp. The nomads had set up camp two hundred miles from the city, near the border of the free state. Clans constantly search for such sites to build temporary dwellings, and the Bakkers were no exception. After all, the safety of the community is always a primary factor in choosing a future campsite.