Today was Thursday, December 5, 2075—Carl's last day of school.
He had enrolled on November 30, making this his sixth day attending.
"Finally, it's over!"
Gaius's face morphed back into Carl's as he stretched his arms in excitement inside the Thorton Hera. His hands nearly touched the car's ceiling, and his whole demeanor had improved dramatically, as if he were a student just starting summer vacation.
"If I had to sit through another day of half the lessons teaching how to suck up to superiors, I swear I'd lose my damn mind."
Hearing Carl's excitement, David, sitting quietly beside him, scratched his cheek in mild confusion.
"I don't think it was that bad."
"That's because you're still stuck in it, while I just got out… and now you have to go back in. Totally different experiences."
Carl suddenly remembered something and asked, "David, how's your mom?"
"She's fine. I paid to have her moved to a Santo Domingo medical center. She's already awake and should be discharged tomorrow."
"That's good to hear."
Oliver, also from Santo Domingo, spoke up while driving.
"I've been treated at that hospital before. A little pricey, but the service is solid."
"Yeah, almost uncomfortably friendly."
"They better be, for that kind of money. Definitely better than some back-alley ripperdoc. But if we're talking real professionals, I only trust Old Vik."
"Old Vik?"
"That's where we're headed right now. Carl's getting rid of his facial cyberware. He's had it long enough. I remember he was planning to give it to you. Be careful with it—wear it too long, and it fuses with your nerves. Then, you'll never be able to take it off."
"I don't mind. Keeping it on suits me just fine."
Hearing that, Jackie, sitting in the passenger seat, chuckled.
"Yeah, makes sense. Only someone like Carl, who's obsessed with keeping his original face, would go through the trouble of removing cyberware."
"I hate the nerve pain, and I hate even more the idea of 'getting used to it' over time."
Carl tapped his cheek.
"Honestly, I care a lot about my face."
"Yeah, you really do—literally."
With Oliver's remark, the Aegis Hera smoothly pulled up near Misty's Esoterica.
This time, Oliver had learned his lesson—he activated the alarm system before they all headed inside. After greeting Misty, Jackie stayed behind to keep his girlfriend company, while the others slipped through the back door to Vik's clinic.
Old Vik had been informed about the procedure the day before, and by the time they arrived as scheduled, everything was ready.
"Lie down."
That same, familiar line he always used before a cyberware procedure.
The behavioral synchronization faceplate was an impressive piece of tech, but installing and removing it was surprisingly simple. It didn't take Vik long to finish the operation.
"Keep your facial expressions active for the next few days. If any residual sensations linger, your facial nerves might stiffen. If you don't want to end up with a frozen face, smile more."
"Got it, Vik."
Carl took the towel Oliver handed him and wiped off the last traces of blood from his face. Then, stepping down from the operating table, he looked at his reflection. After six days without sunlight, his face was noticeably paler. He reached up and rubbed his cheek.
To be honest, the sensation was no different from when he had the cyberware on. But somehow, it just felt… right.
At least now, his face wouldn't change.
And he wouldn't have to deal with the nerve pain that came with it.
He wasn't some Sichuan opera face-changing master—why would he need so many faces? If you wear that thing for too long, you might never be able to take it off.
"Are you ready, kid?"
Carl was done, and now it was David's turn. Hearing Viktor's voice, David took a deep breath and nodded.
"Lie down then. I'll start with your hand. The facial cyberware still needs some adjustments and a cleaning. Normally, I don't use second-hand cyberware in surgeries, but this behavioral synchronization faceplate just happens to be universally adaptable. You'll have to bear with it—it might hurt a little. The nerves around your cybernetic eyes might be affected, causing some flickering and color loss."
As he spoke, Old Vik administered the anesthetic and, under Carl and Oliver's watchful eyes, began the procedure.
Installing the Ballistic Coprocessor in David's palm didn't take too long. By the time Jackie and Misty finished chatting and walked in, the surgery was already wrapping up.
"Damn, that was fast."
"The real challenge is coming up next, but don't worry, it'll be over soon."
Vik glanced at Jackie, then reassured the panting David. He pulled out another syringe and injected a small dose of anesthetic to test David's resistance before determining the right amount. This time, it was the real deal.
"I'm gonna peel your face open in a moment. Try not to resist too much when you're half-conscious. I also need to reroute the cyberware wiring connected to your cyber-eye… The guy who did your implants—was he a ripperdoc from Santo Domingo?"
"Viktor, you can tell?"
"The work is rough, but passable. Not many ripperdocs in Night City can manage something like that."
Saying this, Viktor injected David with the full anesthetic.
As the cold liquid coursed through his veins, a chill spread across his body, and his consciousness faded. When he opened his eyes again, the installation was complete.
"Here, an inhalable immunosuppressant. You'll feel a bit off for a few days—nerve pain and all that. One dose a day for two days should be enough. The human body naturally resists foreign implants, but this stuff will help your system adapt."
[Immunoblocker]: A drug that suppresses the body's immune response.
"Got it, Doc."
"Hold up, we still need to select and adjust your facial settings. Sit tight and figure out which face you want to use going forward."
As David regained full awareness and chatted with Viktor, Carl couldn't help but eye the immunosuppressant Viktor tossed over.
"Hey, Old Vik, why didn't you give me one? I was in pain for a good while last time."
"You don't need it."
Viktor shot Carl a glance and replied calmly:
"Your body's rejection response to cyberware is surprisingly low. It's like the implants were made for you, as if they've always been a part of your body. You don't need immunosuppressants—the pain you felt was just neural linkage pain, not an immune reaction."
"Huh… 'Like they've always been a part of me,' huh? That makes me sound like a pile of spare parts, plug-and-play style."
"Who knows? Either way, even if your rejection rate is low, try to limit your upgrades. No matter how advanced cyberware gets, it'll never be as comfortable as your original body."
"Can't be helped, Old Vik. A merc's gotta do what a merc's gotta do. Sometimes, upgrades are necessary. But I don't have any urgent needs right now—can't even get my hands on a better neural interface."
"Just wait."
Viktor turned back to his work, then mentioned something that piqued Carl's interest.
"I've been in touch with a supplier—someone from inside a corp. He's working on reallocating some internal stock. If things go well, you might be able to get some high-end gear soon. Rather than slapping on random cyberware, I'd rather you just upgrade your neural interface."
"Damn, Vik, where the hell did you pull this off? Corporate-grade hardware?"
"Not me. It's who I know."
"What about me, Old Vik? I want a Sandevistan!"
"Oliver, you should wait a bit. You haven't been running with your current setup for that long."
As the conversation about corporate hardware heated up, the sky outside the clinic darkened.
And then, beneath the neon glow, Night City flickered to life once more.