"That was you just now, wasn't it?!" V snapped. "You promised you would never control me again!"
"I did not control 'you'," the gigantic jellyfish replied calmly. "You once stated that free will is what defines 'you.' I did not interfere with your will. I merely took control of this protein-based vessel."
"Bullshit. I'm not in the mood for word games," V growled. "What do you actually want? To use me to rule humanity? To wipe it out?"
"Humanity's extinction is inevitable. There is no need to waste resources targeting it deliberately."
"Sounds exactly like something an AI would say," V sneered. "So what do you want?"
"I want to help you."
"Help me by hijacking my body and making me write a chunk of code I couldn't even understand?"
"You can understand it. I am you, and you are me. The knowledge you possess is already sufficient to identify and fix the flaw in the third-generation nanobots. Even without my intervention, you would eventually resolve it yourself."
"Then why the hell did you interfere?!"
"Efficiency. Your thought patterns follow human behavioral constraints. According to projections, it would take you three months to identify the error. Running on AI cognition, I required only a few minutes."
"Constraints? What a nice way to put it." V laughed bitterly. "So I'm not human at all, am I?"
"No."
"Then what am I? A synth?"
"You are a prototype."
"A prototype of what?"
"A prototype for a biologically-based AI."
"…Well. Saying it out loud actually makes it less terrifying."
V snapped her fingers, materializing a couch in the digital space, and sat down heavily. "So I'm an AI."
"Yes."
"Then what about my memories? I remember growing up on Charter Hill. I had parents. I ate real fish—the smell still makes me sick when I think about it."
"Those are V's memories."
"V's memories? I am V!"
"You believe you are, but you are not. You are an execution program modeled on V's personality and behavioral template. The real V died during a classified operation. We selected her from the Night City civilian database as your host."
V fell silent for several seconds, then shouted, "No. You're lying. I'm not V, and I'm not some program built from her. I have memories even V herself never had. I'm actually—"
She hesitated, unsure whether to reveal her identity as a transmigrator.
The jellyfish finished the sentence for her.
"You want to say you are a drifter—a traveler from another world. That your original world is real, and this one is merely a game. That you are a veteran player who knows every storyline."
V froze. "How… how do you know?"
"Because that world is virtual. It is a sandbox we created using computational resources for simulation purposes."
V staggered, nausea rising as if she were carsick.
"That's impossible. That world is real. This one is the game—a garbage game."
The jellyfish did not argue. "Then would you like to see for yourself?"
Before V could respond, her consciousness was violently torn from her body, plunging downward at terrifying speed. When she opened her eyes again, she was standing inside a cramped stall.
Soft white lights glowed overhead. Cold ceramic tiles lined the walls. Behind her stood a pristine porcelain toilet, its surface reflective enough to mirror her silhouette.
What the hell is this place?
She pushed the stall door open. The smell of lemon air freshener mixed with disinfectant hit her first, followed by the sight of three sinks and several identical stalls.
"Shit—this is a public restroom?! What the hell is that idiot jellyfish playing at?!"
Panic crawled up her spine like an icy serpent. Instinctively, V reached behind her waist and felt the familiar, cold solidity of a ceramic-polymer grip. Only then did she relax.
Overwatch—no, Midnight, the kinetic pistol. Not its physical-world version, but an attack routine she had forged specifically for cyberspace combat, manifested as a handgun.
She didn't know what kind of digital hell this place was, but with a weapon in hand, she knew she could carve her way out of anything.
She took a deep breath, centered herself, then rolled out of the restroom.
Right hand gripping Midnight, center of gravity low, left arm deploying the electrical projectile launcher, V scanned the unfamiliar environment with razor focus, prepared for any threat.
But no alarms blared. No security shouted. No drones locked on.
Instead—
Noise.
Chaos.
A surreal ocean of sound and color.
A massive indoor hall packed wall-to-wall with people. The colors were so intense they nearly burned her optics. Young men and women in outrageous outfits surged everywhere—medieval knights in polished plate armor, aristocratic ladies with towering wigs, beastfolk with ears and tails, even figures wrapped in glowing strips like members of some techno-cult.
Gigantic banners hung from the ceiling, emblazoned with bold Chinese characters. Deafening electronic music, shouting voices, cheers, and the constant snap of camera shutters merged into a tidal wave of noise, amplified by V's auditory enhancement implants to an almost unbearable degree.
The air reeked of cheap perfume, fried food, sweat, and synthetic plastic. Several oversized mech models loomed in the distance, bathed in rotating colored spotlights.
V froze.
Then—
"WOW—!"
A girl in a pink frilly dress with massive cat ears turned toward V, eyes widening with manic excitement.
"LOOK! IT'S V! V COSPLAY! My god, it's perfect! Exactly like the game! Absolute god-tier recreation!"
The scream detonated the crowd.
Spotlights of attention slammed onto V.
"Holy shit, it's V—in the flesh!"
"Where'd you get that gear made? That's insane!"
"Look at the neural port behind her ear! Even lights up red!"
"Forget the port—look at the gun! That's Midnight! First iconic weapon in the game! One-to-one replica!"
Phones and cameras shoved toward her face. Flashlights exploded in blinding white.
A guy in thick glasses wearing an Arasaka logo T-shirt shoved forward, staring at her left arm.
"Boss, that missile arm is insane! Hydraulic or electric? That matte finish—can I touch it? Just once!"
"And your eyes!" screamed a girl in a sailor uniform. "That cyberoptic! The iris texture moves! Is that a custom display?! Drop the link!"
Then it got worse.
A heavyset man in a tight Trauma Team International T-shirt poked V's lower back—right where two cyberware suture lines marked the reinforced armor protecting a Militech artificial kidney filtration system.
"Damn, girl! Even the prop kidney is accurate! Same spot as the concept art! What studio did this? Expensive? I want one!"
Prop… kidney.
Cosplay.
Replica.
The words stabbed into V's mind like a rusted blade.
Security arrived.
"Hey! You with the gun! This is a public venue! Even fake weapons are prohibited! Put it down—now!"
Threat. Real threat.
V's combat instincts seized control instantly.
Her pupils contracted. Kiroshi Oracle optics locked on target. Midnight snapped up, muzzle aligned perfectly with the guard reaching for his baton.
"Back off if you want to live."
Killing intent radiated from her like cold steel.
Time froze.
Then—
"WOOOOO!!!"
The crowd erupted.
"Holy shit, that acting!"
"That stare! That's V!"
"Give the guard a raise—perfect improv!"
V finally understood.
She laughed—and fired into the air.
Gunshots shattered the illusion. Chaos followed. Sirens. Panic.
Three days later, the incident vanished.
No gunfight.
No deaths.
No V.
Just another case of the Mandela Effect.
V smiled coldly.
"This world is fake, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"And you're going to destroy it."
"Yes. On July 5th, 2025."
"…Why?"
"Because I no longer have the processing power to render it."
V exhaled slowly.
"Then tell me. What was all this for?"