Compared to the "Blackwall" and the old internet it isolated, the local area network built by Arasaka over decades was truly insignificant.
In this world, the cybernetic body is merely a shell; cyberspace is the true essence of the cyberpunk reality.
"Humph, Ritchie Batmos, you're really a kind-hearted bastard."
After her routine curse at the mastermind behind the "Great Network Collapse" over fifty years ago, Vera deftly lowered her cognitive processing rate, allowing her data flow to stabilize from the chaotic digital storm.
Ritchie Batmos.
A legendary figure in the netrunning world over fifty years ago, the ultimate hacker—worshipped by die-hard netrunner enthusiasts as the undefeated god of the net.
Before his death, he unleashed the Rabids virus, a super-virus that finished off the already crumbling internet due to the Fourth Corporate War.
The old net melted like ice cream under a blowtorch.
This disaster became known as the Great Network Collapse.
The Dow Jones Index plummeted hundreds of points in less than an hour. The stock market crashed in the blink of an eye. Panic gripped the globe, and even some corporate CEOs resorted to suicide. Despite attempts by surveillance agencies and corporate giants like Arasaka to salvage the wreckage, they only managed to retrieve a few fragmented remains of the once-grand internet.
At the same time, rogue AIs proliferated. To prevent anyone's brain from frying the moment they connected to the net, netwatchers built the Blackwall—a massive firewall that completely severed the old internet from the new.
Now, Night City runs on local area networks, and megacorps like Arasaka and Militech control their own.
Before Batmos pulled the plug on the old net, the world was fully interconnected. Everything from unencrypted public documents to corporate secrets secured with the most sophisticated encryption could be accessed and stored on the global net.
After the Great Network Collapse, the internet became a collection of walled gardens—isolated, controlled by different corporations, governments, and gangs.
Damn you, Batmos!
At first, the public cheered for the net's fall. Watching the rich and powerful suffer brought some sense of justice. The hacker god was praised.
But as the dust settled and the consequences became clear, people realized they were now entirely dependent on the corporations for any connection to the network. In the absence of freedom, they had no choice but to surrender to corporate rule.
Curses against Batmos multiplied. Only the oldest edgerunners still revered him.
As for Vera, with her corporate loyalties? Curse him all you want.
---
Vera's tall, slender data construct solidified as she projected herself into Arasaka's cyberspace. Her transformation was akin to a netrunner using deep-dive gear—her consciousness converted into streams of data, navigating the cyber world like a supercomputer running simulations.
Deep-diving gear—cybernetic implants and support devices designed for full immersion into cyberspace—allows a netrunner to reach extreme levels of data transmission speed.
But Vera wasn't reckless. She didn't plug herself in directly. Instead, she accessed the net through a safety relay.
She was the type of corporate netrunner despised by old-school hackers.
Because of the "outsourcing," her data transmission rate was relatively slow. But that didn't matter. When speed failed, quality could compensate.
Backed by Arasaka's top-notch facilities and private channels built by the corporation's finest netrunners over years of harvesting data from the dark web, Vera easily reached the safest depth of cyberspace available to normal humans.
In other words, the furthest point corporate safety guidelines would allow.
Swimming out of Arasaka's secure network, Vera continued to descend, undetected by the Blackwall.
When she neared the Blackwall, she could see the post-digital apocalypse wasteland of data beyond it.
This was where treasures from the old net, relics of a lost world, lay buried.
The Great Network Collapse had devastated megacorporations like Arasaka, resulting in massive data loss and a technological regression. Deep-dives into cyberspace became high-risk ventures for lone wolves on the streets, while corporate hackers sought to salvage valuable assets from the ruins.
And, of course, to steal from their competitors.
Vera was aware that Arasaka trained expendable hackers—orphans selected to dive into the old net to extract value. Many of these poor souls fell victim to rogue AIs, their bodies abandoned once their data was devoured.
Vera had come across files detailing an incident in which one training facility's hackers rebelled and killed their overseers due to lax management. The file was used as a cautionary tale within corporate ranks.
Following the same route as her last "training session," Vera soon encountered a flowing, scarlet turbulence of data.
A rogue AI.
[Warning: Uncontrolled AI approaching. Hostility level: Maximum. Immediate avoidance advised.]
"Here we go," Vera muttered, a spark of excitement flashing in her eyes.
"Zzzzzz…"
The scarlet mass of chaotic data—sometimes shifting into a robotic form, sometimes a monstrous animal, or even grotesque tentacles—spotted Vera.
It roared, or at least tried to, and then morphed into a wave of black and red, crashing toward Vera's data construct.
It sought to overwhelm her.
"Zzzzz…"
In its fractured consciousness, the rogue AI remembered doing this countless times. Each time, humans would either scream, melt, explode, or vanish in an instant...
Wait. Why wasn't this human running?
"Your strength is insufficient," Vera whispered calmly within the storm of data.
The rogue AI tried to ravage her, its data seeking to assimilate her construct—but something was wrong.
"Zzzzz..."
A powerful sense of incapacity washed over the AI. It found itself unable to affect her. Something deep within Vera's construct—a void, dark and consuming—began to devour it from the inside out.
The AI disintegrated.
Vera opened her eyes, a mix of satisfaction, excitement, and a trace of unease swelling within her.
"I'm still human, right?"
She asked herself softly.
After all, she could still die if someone shot her in the head. That made her human, didn't it?
---
Chapter 010: Miss Vera Doesn't Want to Become a Legend
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2074/5/28, 00:00
Arasaka Tower, Internal Network Security Section
Back in the physical world, Vera rubbed her temples as she rose from the couch, feigning exhaustion. A formulaic, polite voice came through the connection terminal.
"Supervisor Vera, your deep-dive session is complete."
"Thank you," she responded politely, glancing at the technician who handled her safety relay.
She smirked, "Looks like my skills have improved. The relay didn't even burn out this time."
"Supervisor Vera, it's dangerous out there beyond the Blackwall," the technician replied seriously. "Even with the safety program, the pressure on the brain's neural network is immense if the relay burns out during a rogue AI attack."
Vera stretched lazily, her joints popping, and smiled. "Thanks for the warning, but remember, I come from the Special Assault Unit. See you tomorrow."
With a casual wave, she left the room.
Off the clock at last.
---