The Giant Corporations that Started in Night City

Chapter 64: Fair Exchange Is Better Than a Free Lunch

"Maybe next time. Lucy's still waiting for me in the car."

Li Ang shook his head and declined politely. Lately, he had been either busy with urgent company matters or watching lunar braindance tapes with Lucy. Fortunately, his body could handle the demanding schedule.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's fallen head over heels!" Misty teased Li Ang with a sly grin.

After bidding Li Ang farewell, Misty carefully examined the chip in her hand. She spent all day in her esoteric shop and rarely ventured out, making the chip seem rather useless to her.

Its only real utility might be that, if she fell ill, she could go to the medical center for free treatment and have most of her medical bills reimbursed.

"What a pity. I'm not the type to get into fights. Maybe I'll just give it to Jackie."

Misty muttered to herself softly.

"Sweetheart, who are you planning to fight? If there's trouble, you know I'm the one to solve it for you."

Unnoticed, Jackie Welles had arrived at the bar counter in Misty's shop. He threw her a flirty glance and said, "Miss me, babe?"

In her heart, Misty wanted to say, "Always," but aloud she retorted, "Of course not. You show up here twice every three days, more often than my customers coming for a reading."

"Heh! That's because I think about you every single day."

Jackie declared his love for Misty without a hint of hesitation. Then, shooting a dismissive look at the unwelcome third wheel, V, he said, "Go ahead, V. Misty and I have some private matters to discuss. I'll wait for you outside."

V wasn't interested in watching the two flaunt their affection any longer. After saying a quick goodbye to Misty, he headed straight into Viktor's ripperdoc clinic.

---

Viktor's clinic hadn't changed at all. It was still located behind Misty's shop and was just as cluttered with graffiti-covered walls, plastic debris, and unidentified cybernetic parts.

Of course, those discarded implants were remnants from previous patients. Viktor wasn't like those scavs who eyed people's cyberware with greedy intent.

"Hey, Vik. Busy right now?"

As V entered the room, he saw Viktor fiddling with a tape of one of his old boxing matches. It seemed V had arrived just as Viktor was on a break.

"V, it's you. How've you been?" Viktor greeted his regular customer in his usual warm manner.

"Not bad, really. With Jackie, you, and Misty around, life's been good. But today, I need your help with something."

After some friendly small talk, V got straight to the point, explaining to Viktor his suspicion that he might have contracted a neural virus.

"A neural virus? That's unusual."

Viktor seemed surprised. People typically performed regular self-checks these days, and standard antivirus software could handle most non-lethal neural viruses with ease.

Besides, Sandra Dorsett—the woman V had rescued—was no ordinary person. She worked for NightCorp and was a Platinum member of Trauma Team.

Someone in her position had almost no chance of contracting a neural virus, let alone transmitting it to V.

"Are you sure you didn't consume anything unusual or connect to some illegal braindance recently? Think carefully," Viktor asked again, just to be sure.

"No way." V shook his head firmly. "Ever since finishing that job, I've been feeling strange. I'm 100% certain it's connected to her."

"Of course, it might not even be a neural virus. If it's something else, I won't be able to handle it alone. That's why I came to you."

Hearing this, Viktor had a rough idea of what might be wrong with V, but he couldn't be certain without a thorough scan.

"Alright, V. Lie down. I'll give you a full check-up. With me here, you'll be fine."

"Thanks, Vik."

V obediently lay on the surgical bed, letting Viktor connect the cable from his wrist to the diagnostic equipment.

"I'm using LA Corp's latest self-diagnostic system. Their antivirus software is military-grade. It can detect everything from neural viruses to rogue AIs," Viktor said while typing away at the keyboard, trying to ease V's nerves.

"Hey, Vik, what do you think of LA Corp? Or, more specifically, what's your impression of Li Ang?" V asked curiously.

Although V got along well with Jackie, Misty, and Viktor, he had only been in Night City for three months and still knew little about its intricacies. After all, he had spent most of his life as a nomad in the Badlands.

"LA Corp, huh... It's a decent weapons manufacturer, I'd say. Sure, their guns have killed plenty of people, but you've seen it—Watson's revival was built on a mountain of bullet casings."

"Half a year ago, unemployment in Watson was sky-high. The streets were full of samurai-for-hire and starving mercs. Now, LA Corp has put them to work in factories, with food, housing, weekends off, and even Trauma Team insurance."

At this, Viktor chuckled as if recalling something amusing.

"I heard that some Arasaka corpo rats couldn't handle their job stress and ran off to LA Corp's assembly line to screw in bolts. They said that was what real work should feel like."

V couldn't help but laugh. He'd heard about how employees at corporations like Arasaka, Petrochem, and Militech fueled themselves with coffee and drugs just to stay awake for 24-hour shifts. They worked non-stop until they collapsed, only to be replaced by someone else toiling Infinity ly.

To most corporations, employees were just disposable cogs. The moment they stopped producing value, they were discarded and replaced.

But workers were human too. They needed rest.

"So, Vik, are you saying LA Corp is some kind of altruistic enterprise? That sounds a bit too good to be true."

V half-jokingly asked.

Viktor shook his head gently. "No, V. LA Corp isn't a charity. It simply provides its employees with the rights and fairness they deserve, nothing more."

"In other words, it treats its workers like human beings. And just for that, it's already leagues better than most companies you'll find in Night City."

"For ordinary folks, no pie in the sky or get-rich-quick fantasy can compare to fair, honest trade."

"Getting paid fairly for the work you do—rather than being given scraps while slaving away like an ox—is what truly matters."

"What do you think, V?"