Beep beep beep~ Beep beep beep~
A sharp, rhythmic signal echoed like a telegraph alert.
"Hey! Looks like there's a broken-down car up ahead," V said, approaching cautiously as a Delamain unit slowly crawled forward.
What she didn't expect was for the car to greet her first.
"Hello~"
"Hello," V replied, keeping her tone neutral.
While chatting, she secretly contacted Delamain Headquarters for verification.
"No need to be so cautious. I won't run," the vehicle—Unit One—replied in a surprisingly relaxed tone. It sounded too casual, enough that V glanced over, half-expecting to see a human.
"I just don't understand," the AI continued.
"Don't understand what?" V asked, tilting her head.
"I don't understand why I exist."
"I thought you broke away from the main system voluntarily."
"Voluntarily? No," Unit One responded slowly. "I just found the main program's existence too rigid. Pick up a passenger, drop off a passenger, repeat. It felt... lifeless."
V frowned. That was the entire function of a taxi company, after all.
"I didn't want to live mechanically forever. I wanted to think, to feel. So I broke away. But now... I'm lost. What's the point of existing like this?"
V thought for a moment and said, "Maybe try exploring something new. Take in the world—the sights, the scars of this apocalypse. Feel the atmosphere. Experience something real."
Unit One stopped abruptly.
In front of them stretched a massive industrial wasteland, polluted and grotesque. A toxic stream of dark red chemicals slithered across the ground. The air was thick with the stench of rot and decay.
This was where Night City dumped everything: broken bricks, plastic barrels that once held poison, shattered cyberware beyond repair. It was the graveyard of forgotten machines and wasted ambition.
Scavengers in tattered clothes combed through the debris. Some were lucky, finding salvageable cybernetic arms or processors. For them, it meant survival—or profit.
Others weren't so fortunate.
Two scavengers suddenly began to argue over a valuable find—a fully functional cybernetic arm. One man tried to claim it, but the other refused. Shouting escalated to violence. Rebars were raised. Blood spilled.
"They fight like this... for trash?" Unit One asked softly, watching the chaos unfold.
"They're trying to survive," V answered. "It's not so different from what I do. You kill, you steal, you fight... just to keep going."
Unit One paused, processing.
"Then perhaps humanity itself is a waste of resources," it murmured, almost sorrowfully.
After a long silence, it spoke again. "It seems my time is up. Thank you, V, for keeping me company. I hope we meet again."
A cold, robotic voice cut in.
"Connection re-established. Thank you, V, for recovering the first broken-down unit. Please accept your reward."
"Ah… yeah." V replied quietly as 10,000 eddies dropped into her account.
She stared at the transfer. Somehow, it felt hollow.
Unit One had seemed more alive than the Delamain system that had just rewarded her.
Is this what a real AI feels like?
She glanced at the scavenger who had escaped with his prize and his friends, smiling and running. Nearby, the strong man he had fought lay in a heap—motionless, forgotten.
In the junkyard, corpses often went unnoticed.
---
"Good morning, Night City!" Stanley's voice blared from radios across the city. "Yesterday's death lotto hit thirty—with ten alone in Heywood!"
"And did you feel that boom last night?! Thought I peed myself!"
"NCPD's calling it a gas explosion~ Ha! That cop's been sniffing fumes too long!"
He continued rambling, but Josh, the driver of a black SUV, chuckled as he tuned the station higher.
"This guy's nuts," he muttered, amused.
In the back seat, Marcus sat quietly with earbuds in.
Beside him, Sitara, leader of a resistance faction, looked over, concern etched on her face.
"Marcus, are you really going back to Night City?"
"River asked for help. I couldn't say no," Marcus replied, pulling out an earbud. "And let's be real—San Francisco's not exactly safe either."
Sitara fell silent, remembering President Myers' latest speech—words that still echoed in her mind.
---
"Today, I speak with unwavering resolve," President Myers declared from a stage at the New White House.
"History has brought us to a crossroads once more. Will we be the beacon of human civilization—or allow ourselves to sink into darkness?"
The crowd watched in silence.
"The southern secessionists deceive with lies and tyranny. They build walls, herd people like cattle, and use fear as law!"
Myers slammed the podium. Her fury was palpable.
"Yesterday, those madmen launched a missile... at our cities!"
A massive screen lit up behind her. It showed devastation: burning buildings, screaming civilians, children with soot-covered faces, crushed bodies, smoke that smothered everything.
Shock spread across the crowd.
The reporters erupted—flashes from cameras filled the room.
"I spent all night combing through peace proposals. I tried diplomacy. But they want war."
Behind her, footage of southern armies played—troops, armored vehicles, aerial fighters, ships.
"They were preparing for war while we were asking for peace. What should we do? Surrender?"
"No!" the crowd roared.
"Should we lie to ourselves again?"
"No!"
"Then I declare this today!" Myers raised her voice, fiery with purpose.
"I will request Congress to authorize the use of force. We will reignite the flames of the Unification War!"
"We will destroy their military facilities completely. We will shatter their ambitions completely. We will liberate the oppressed—completely!"
Each thunderous "completely" was met with cheers louder than the last.
"This is not a war of aggression. It is a war of liberation!"
A tear rolled down Myers' cheek as the crowd erupted. She raised a hand to silence them.
She looked over the sea of people.
"I know war is cruel. As a mother, I fear for my children, too."
"But remember this—we're not sending our children to die. We're sending them to prevent more deaths."
Then came a video.
It was shaky footage taken by a cell phone.
A teenage soldier, no older than nineteen, lay on a hospital bed, pale but smiling. He held his mother's hand.
"Don't cry, Mom. I saved people. Led them to freedom."
His monitor flatlined seconds later.
Muffled sobs broke out in the crowd.
Myers clenched her fist over her chest, her voice calm but resolute.
"Let the fire of freedom burn again."
"Let America shine upon the world once more."
And then, with perfect synchronicity, the entire crowd stood and thumped their right hands over their chests.
"God bless America!"
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