At three in the afternoon, Badlands Dam was already packed shoulder to shoulder. News AVs hovered overhead, NCPD struggled to maintain order, and the entire world had its eyes fixed on this moment.
Nakamura Kayo raised the test tube toward the cameras, then flicked her wrist, pouring the "blue liquid" into the two hundred million liters of chemical waste in Laguna Bend Reservoir.
The blue liquid wasn't liquid at all—it was an aggregate of one trillion nanobots. The instant they entered the toxic water, the extreme pollution levels triggered their active mode. High-definition cameras clearly captured the water around the nanobots rapidly becoming clear.
And that wasn't all.
At Nakamura's signal, two Arasaka 2077 AVs lifted off. Mounted beneath them were high-output ultraviolet lamps. When 350-nanometer UV light bathed the lake surface, the energized nanobots began to replicate at terrifying speed:
one trillion to two,
two to four,
four to eight,
eight to sixteen—
doubling again and again, up to a maximum of twenty replication cycles, reaching an astronomical number.
The more nanobots there were, the higher the purification efficiency.
The higher the efficiency, the more decomposition byproducts were generated.
The more byproducts, the faster the nanobots replicated.
A perfect positive feedback loop—until Laguna Bend was completely purified.
"According to our calculations," Nakamura announced,
"assuming no interference or new pollutants, the nanobots will fully purify the two hundred million liters of toxic water within six months. By then, they will have completed twelve self-replication cycles, reaching a final count of approximately 4,096 trillion units."
Smiling, she instructed staff to collect water samples near the nanobots.
"Now let's take a preliminary look at the results."
As data scrolled across the holo-screens, the crowd fell silent.
Pollutant levels had already dropped to remarkably low values. While the water still didn't meet direct drinking standards, it was already comparable to the filtered water most citizens drank every day.
And this was after five minutes of operation.
The crowd erupted.
Thunderous applause rolled across the dam, echoing endlessly.
Nakamura was visibly moved. Though she excelled at designing weapons, she much preferred creating things that saved lives rather than took them.
"Arasaka 2077 will collect water samples daily and publish real-time results. We welcome supervision from all sectors of society. Are there any questions?"
A reporter immediately stood.
"What is the cost of these nanobots? Can they be deployed at scale?"
"At present, the cost is approximately ten billion eurodollars per milliliter, which is admittedly expensive," Nakamura replied.
"However, one milliliter contains one trillion nanobots. Just three milliliters are sufficient to purify the entire Laguna Bend Reservoir."
Another reporter asked,
"Are there plans to reduce the cost?"
"Of course. Arasaka 2077 is continuing to refine the technology. Costs will gradually decrease. Our target is 6.5 billion eurodollars per milliliter. Below that would require a new technological breakthrough."
A third reporter raised a hand.
"Are these nanobots harmful to the human body? I mean—could they enter the body through water, like microplastics?"
"The nanobots are connected via a biological magnetic field and theoretically remain tightly clustered," Nakamura explained.
"However, we can't entirely rule out rare cases of individual separation. That said, based on our research, nanobots pose no harm to the human body. They resemble biological entities but are neither bacteria nor viruses."
"In fact, they possess a high degree of intelligence and situational judgment. Their sole design purpose is to eliminate water pollution. They will never attack human cells. Please rest assured."
At that moment, a creative thinker piped up.
"So… does that mean if I swallow some nanobots, they won't hurt me—and might even help clean out the junk in my body?"
"This…"
Nakamura paused. She thought her imagination was already wild—apparently, others could go further.
After a moment's consideration, she shook her head.
"We haven't conducted such tests. Theoretically, it might be possible, but the human body is extremely complex. I can't predict side effects. I strongly advise against trying it."
Viewers at home nodded in unison.
Got it. You can eat them. Probably fine. Might help.
Health was priceless, after all.
And so, Night City soon saw a trend of people believing that nanobots cured everything.
That, however, was a story for later.
Nakamura flawlessly answered question after question. At the end of the press conference, a scholar-looking man spoke up.
"You mentioned that the nanobots possess high intelligence and autonomous judgment. With current AI technology, such a small body and core shouldn't be capable of that level of cognition."
Nakamura nodded.
"The AI you're referring to is likely mechanistic AI. Arasaka 2077's nanobots, however, employ a new paradigm—what we call Biological AI."
"Biological AI?" the scholar's eyes lit up. "Fascinating. Could you elaborate?"
"I'm afraid that falls under corporate confidentiality."
"I understand," the man said.
"But I will continue to follow this closely. Humanity has already been defeated by AI once—we cannot allow that to happen again."
"Of course," Nakamura replied calmly.
"Arasaka 2077 is a socially responsible corporation. We will fully cooperate with lawful oversight and investigation."
The press conference concluded successfully.
Reporters rushed off to file their stories. Ordinary citizens, with nothing better to do, gathered along the lakeshore, shouting and laughing as they chased the pale-blue nanobots drifting in the water.
Old Captain Muammar Reyes even tried to scoop up a handful to taste—only to be stopped by a pair of hands.
He turned, shocked.
"Dad?!"
V's face darkened.
"I am not your dad."
"No, no," the old captain insisted enthusiastically.
"You purified the lake and saved millions in Night City. You're my dad!"
Normally steady, the old captain became completely unhinged when he was happy.
Unfortunately, he was very happy right now.
"Fine," V sighed.
"But the water still isn't drinkable."
"Yes, sir—listening to Dad," the captain grinned, then suddenly said,
"My dealership opens in a few days. Would you like to cut the ribbon?"
"Dealership?"
"Yeah. I've been flipping used cars forever, but used cars don't make real money."
"What about being a fixer?"
"I'm done."
He laughed heartily.
"I did fixer work to help the folks in Santo Domingo survive. But now you're here—no need for me. I'll sell cars and make real eddies."
"Being a businessman isn't very exciting."
"Fuck excitement," the captain snorted.
"Every fixer dreams of peaceful days."
Then he started listing names:
"Padre's actually being a priest now—officiated a wedding last week.
Wakako Okada's expanding her pachinko business—says she'll empty every tourist's pocket.
Gianna Jones went back to journalism, focusing on cyberpsychosis.
Dino reopened another bar—tourists everywhere now, bars make more than fixer work.
Mr. Hands went back to Russia to reunite with his daughter. With you locking Pacifica down, there's no room for him."
"As for fixers still working—only Dakota Smith in the Badlands. Even she knows it won't last. The Aldecaldos are hauling cargo between Night City and the Badlands prison now. She says once the Razor Gang is dealt with, she'll retire and open a repair shop."
"Heroes fade," V murmured.
The old captain shook his head.
"No. It's a sunset. Some things need to be put down eventually. Every banquet ends. Outdated roles are meant to disappear. Not everyone can be a hero of the age."
"For most people, a peaceful ending… that's already a GOOD END."
V could tell—those words came straight from his heart.
"I'll attend the opening," V said.
"But no ribbon-cutting. That's your day."
"Fair enough. Want me to reserve you a good car?"
"Got a Rayfield Caliburn?"
The captain jumped.
"A hovercar?! No way."
V laughed softly.
"Then don't retire too fast. You've still got plenty to work for."
The captain was about to thank her—
"Pay your taxes," V added.
"I know all your tricks."
"…Fuck."
V walked off smiling.
Hearing news of old fixers was an unexpected bonus. She rarely paid attention to the streets anymore—but knowing her old friends were doing well put her at ease.
"V."
A deep voice sounded behind her, making her jump.
She turned.
Solomon Reed.
"Make some noise when you walk," she complained.
"Occupational habit," Reed said solemnly.
"There's a problem with the movie."
"I thought Myers came back to life, judging by your face," V said, leaning against her Caliburn.
"Didn't our director Rachel Casich say filming went great?"
"Filming did," Reed replied seriously.
"The problem is post-production."
"Our movie has… sensitive material. Editing is critical. But our braindance editors aren't handling emotional rewrites well—especially Myers. Her inner thoughts don't match her words at all. If not reorganized, it'll be the film's biggest flaw."
"That is a problem," V mused.
Then she spotted Judy Alvarez strolling by the lakeside.
V smiled.
"There. That's Night City's best braindance editor."
Reed's eyes glowed blue as he scanned Judy's profile.
"Moxes? Mostly edits porn."
"Don't underestimate porn," V replied.
"Sweet words on the surface, business underneath. Lizzie's productions were all top-tier thanks to Judy Alvarez."
"She can edit dolls—she can edit Myers. Same deal. Mouth full of lies, heart somewhere else."
Reed considered it.
Honestly, Myers was worse than a doll.
At least dolls provided service once paid.
Myers made you work for free—and complained you didn't do enough.
Reed once again felt like a complete idiot.
He approached Judy. They reached an agreement quickly—less due to eloquence, more due to the price.
"Whoa—it really is President V!" Judy beamed, grabbing V's hand.
"I thought you were messing with me. I'm your biggest fan! Can I get an autograph?"
Given… past-life marital connections, V obliged.
"Sure."
Judy squealed, pulled open her top.
"Sign it on my boobs!"
V: …
Reed: …
She signed anyway.
"And your spiderweb tattoo's beautiful," V added.
"Thank you! Please keep protecting Night City—we'll always support you!" Judy said, pumping her fist before leaving with Reed.
V didn't stop her.
She knew Judy had recently married Evelyn Parker.
In this timeline, V had orchestrated Konpeki Plaza herself—Evelyn never got involved. She and Judy had always been close; ending up together was only natural.
Life worked like that.
Gain something here, lose something there.
No perfect endings—only choices without regret.
Seeing her past-life partner build a new family stung a little.
So V did what anyone would do.
She found someone more miserable.
Kurt Hansen.
Why was Dogtown's king so aggressive on TV?
Because his wife had cheated on him.
In his second year controlling Dogtown, she found another man. They lived together for six years. Then suddenly—relocation to Night City. Their plane was shot down. Their son ended up in ICU.
When the boy finally woke, Hansen rushed to the hospital—only to find his wife and son locked in an embrace with another man.
Facing Arasaka's army, Hansen never flinched.
But he couldn't push open that tiny hospital door.
He hid like a coward for hours—
then divorced like a warrior.
"Do you regret it?" V asked.
"Of course," Hansen scoffed bitterly.
"If I hadn't left them, maybe none of this would've happened."
"But regret's useless. I abandoned them first. They had to live."
"I checked the man. Stable job. No bad habits. Better than me."
"I gave them all my money—enough for three lifetimes. I don't owe them anymore."
V felt much better after hearing that.
Hansen squinted.
"You didn't call me just to hear gossip, did you?"
V shook her head vigorously.
"Am I that shallow? I left that behind ages ago. I called you with good news."
"What news?"
"Everyone's been working hard. So the company's paying—group vacation."
"You turn Night City into a tourist city and then go vacation somewhere else?" Hansen laughed.
"Fine. You're the boss. Where to?"
V blinked, pointing upward.
"The Moon."