I inspected every centimetre of the Kerenzikov over the next couple of days, using all the magnification equipment I had available to me. It would have been nice to have an example of a Sandevistan as well, but I didn't. Still, I knew the theories behind both of their operations from reading journal articles in the library at school.
They were similar implants for similar purposes, but the way they went about them was different. Both systems were a combination nervous system and brain implant. However, the kerenzikov went about increasing your reflexes by mostly replacing a large portion of the efferent neurons and spinal interneurons with electrical replacements. It would then provide an electrical interface between its systems, the medulla oblongata and the motor neurons in your limbs.
Its philosophy was that not only was the transmission synapse speed between neurons slow but the reflex arcs of a human's somatic nervous system were not optimised and wasted a lot of time.
Their philosophy was a pretty good one, as evolution very rarely optimised anything, I felt. As soon as it arrived at the point where it was "good enough", evolution would stop unless some additional survival adaptation pressure could be found.
The philosophy of the Sandevistan, which was designed after Kerenzikovs was introduced, was that overall, the spine and central nervous system was a pretty well-designed system and that permanent alterations to it should be avoided as they tended to have negative side effects. And certainly, they appeared to be right in a lot of cases. The first-generation kerenzikov boostware had a horrible reputation for inducing psychosis. Even the current generation had a bad reputation, but it was terrible decades ago.
The designers of the Sandy system also felt that they could get much higher, if momentary, boosts of speed if they didn't have to design in all of the factors for a person to withstand a continuous operation. As such, a Sandevistan kept the patient's normal motor and somatic nervous system, but when activated, it would be bypassed to connect the brain almost directly to the nerve cluster closest to the desired movement.
Some versions of Sandys included connections all through the patient's arms and legs in order to even further reduce the latency during activations. Both systems included hardware to be installed in the patient's brain that regulated the subjective experience of time; however, the Sandevistan also included linkages to the amygdala and limbic systems, which would be activated at the same time to give an incredible adrenaline response for a short period.
Altogether, a Sandevistan of the same quality could increase a person's reflexes and sense of time almost double that of a similar Kerenzikov, which was one reason they had become so popular. People, most of the time, were right when they thought that they would have enough time to trigger their boostware, and if so, the Sandy would always be superior.
Also, getting used to operating at effectively super speed all of the time, twenty-four-seven, was an incredible mental stressor for a lot of people. I wondered if I would have the same problem. I definitely preferred the always-on nature of the Kerenzikov system. My fears were always being ambushed, and if so, I didn't know that I would have time to actively trigger an implant, although it was kind of moot since I didn't have an example of a Sandy to potentially install in my body in any case.
I had been making adjustments to the Kerenzikov for the past day. I tried to keep my changes small because I didn't want to have to maintain a piece of cybernetics that was installed in my spine on the regular. However, I had a number of ideas to integrate the system more closely with my internal biomonitor and to make it less hard on my brain and connected neurons.
The main physical sequelae to either system of boostware were inflammation of both the nervous system, especially at the interface points and the brain, as well as connective tissue damage from having reflexes and speed that the mechanical parts of your body just couldn't keep up with. Tendon damage and repetitive stress injuries similar to tennis elbow were prevalent.
I wouldn't have so much of the latter problem, as the muscle and bone lace treatment had made all of my connective tissue and bones incredibly strong. I could bench press almost five hundred pounds... err, two hundred and twenty-five kilograms. I had to get used to the metric system, too. And I could do that doing reps, even if not very fast, which was pretty good for a lanky girl who barely weighed over sixty kilos.
I wasn't sure if that was enough to consider me the lowest of low-tiered Brutes, but probably, especially when you considered my skin was bullet resistant, depending on the type of bullet and gun. A 9mm to my chest would give me a bruise, but a 2mm hypervelocity flechette with a tungsten penetrator would likely go through me and out the other side. Both were things that could be fired from handgun-sized firearms, so I couldn't even really say I was proof against pistols.
The nervous system was a problem, though. I could think of a number of ways to treat inflammation of the nervous system and the brain, but the best option was not to get it at all, so I was connecting the Kerenzikov with my internal biomonitor. As soon as my biomonitor detected signs of inflammation, then my operating system would ratchet down my boost level.
This seemed like an obvious solution, and it was, but the issue was getting boostware to provide anything, but the full performance wasn't a simple problem. If all you wanted to degrade performance, it would be pretty simple but doing so in a way that didn't screw up the reactions and proprioception of the user was an extremely complicated issue and one that hadn't been successfully accomplished yet.
I suspected it hadn't actually been researched too hard, either. This was military equipment, and that was all about the bleeding edge of performance. Actively degrading performance, even if only slightly, for the long-term health of the user might not be considered optimal. Alt-Dad said something like that, even. Ruefully, he once said, "Soldiers are cheap, Little Owl, but defeat costs more than coin."
Before I knew it, I was reassembling the Kerenzikov. To unlock the variable boost mode, I would have to practise with it on a number of speed modes. From full boost at first, then degrading the performance by about five per cent each go. After it got a baseline of my performance in each of the twenty-speed speed settings, then it would use that data to help jumpstart my brain's processing as soon as it switched between one of the settings. A sudden increase or decrease in my boost level wouldn't shock me; it should be as smooth as silk in transition.
The psychological issues, though, would still be mine to solve. I could definitely program a switch for it to function in a similar manner to a Sandevistan now, keeping me at a degraded performance mode until I activated it. However, there was a reason if I had the choice between the two, I would have picked the Kerenzikov.
Maybe I was being arrogant, but I felt that I should just get used to it. I think I could devise some neural plasticity treatments to help me, too, if it were too much for me. That might be a good idea, in any case, as it would definitely lessen the time it took to get up to speed, pun intended. Just ensuring I used the sleep inducer every night, which had a small element of a neural plasticity treatment, might be sufficient.
Dr Taylor, the kindly old man, sat in front of me in the empty conference room, "Miss Hebert, is there any way I can talk you out of this? I highly discourage the use of these types of reflex-enhancing augmentations. Kerenzikovs, especially, have a very high incidence of causing mental instability."
He wasn't done and continued, "The biggest symptom of cyberpsychosis is disassociation and disconnection. Having much higher reflexes and living as though everyone else is in slow motion is almost definitionally mentally disconnecting yourself from humanity as a whole."
I nodded at what he was saying because I had already thought about all that, and he wasn't entirely wrong, "I'm aware of all that, and I'm certainly willing to take your advice as far as any harm mitigation strategies you might suggest, but I don't think you realise how much anxiety I live with about possibly being randomly shot in this city. If someone starts to point a gun at me, I want to be able to move out of the way of their aim point before they can pull the trigger. Plus, I intend to try and get a job as a Med-Tech with Trauma Team in the next eighteen months, and while their security specialists certainly protect their clinicians, I do not want to be a burden."
That caused him to raise his brows in surprise, "You're a paramedic?"
"Well, provided I pass my final exam and practical next month, yes. The local Trauma Team hiring manager was impressed by my grades and suggested I work for a local ground ambulance company for at least a year," I told him, carefully knocking on the absurdly expensive, seemingly real wood table in the conference room, which caused him to chuckle.
He leaned back for a moment, thinking, "Okay, here is what I'll do. If you agree to a few biosculpt adjustments as a mitigating factor for some of the physical hazards that a Kerenzikov entails when you're still mostly organic, and if you agree to come to see us at least once a week for six weeks, I'll do the surgery. Over ninety per cent of cases where people have issues with reflex-enhancing boostware are discovered within the first month. We'll just call these follow-on physical therapy appointments so as not to raise any red flags with the city's psycho squad. At your level of augmentation, I do not have to forward anything to the city about what precisely you have installed, but I would if I called them post-implantation psychological evaluations. I am very committed to doing everything possible to protect my patient's privacy."
That was one of the downsides to utilising a law-abiding doctor. I doubted I could add much more cybernetics to myself without getting on the city's radar. I could maybe add one or two small things, but that would probably be it before I got on the radar of the NCPD. They liked to have files on people long before they got to the point where they might go wackadoo. It was kind of pointless, as from what I could tell over ninety per cent of cyberpsychos originated in back alley Ripperdocs, who didn't tell anyone shit.
I nodded at him, "That sounds fine, before I ask what kind of biosculpt you want me to get... has it ever occurred to you that the idea of 'cyberpsychosis' seems a little ridiculous? I have read tons of publically available papers on it, and we have hardly learned more about it than we knew forty years ago."
That caused him to suddenly laugh as if he wasn't expecting to find what I said humorously. He nodded, though, "I spent thirty years working at a company that specialises in custom-made full-body replacements, so yeah, I think both the popular public opinion and even the mainstream academic opinion on the subject leaves a lot to be desired." He paused and then looked at me critically, "But it is easy to be a critic; when I was a Professor at the University of Bern, I would have asked you what is your opinion of the cause, then. So?"
I blinked and considered the totality of what I had been thinking on the subject, "I think it is caused by a multitude of factors, all separate but with a common end result that has been misidentified by some as a monolithic single mental disease. Pre-existing anti-social spectrum disorders combined with either poorly built, installed, configured or maintained implants that, over time, cause a traumatic brain injury is my best guess as to the largest single cause. Similar to the way that long-time boxers or football players are susceptible to chronic traumatic encephalopathy, which not only causes mental deficiencies but also changes in behaviour. I'd be very interested to see if anyone has conducted a post-mortem pathological brain evaluation on multiple cyberpsycho exemplars."
"Wow, okay, I was trying to put you in your place, but I apologise. That was a well-reasoned and logical answer. As far as your analogy to CTE, I think that might be a brilliant comparison in many instances of cyberpsychosis, but it doesn't explain all of them. There has been no shortage of theories there, social contagion like the last century had with school shootings that died down over the years? But I tend to agree with you, though. And, as far I know, no such paper has been written, even in confidential journals that you wouldn't have access to. A problem with the premise of that research is that the brains of cyberpsychos put down by MaxTac or other similar units across the nation are almost never intact to permit a truly standardised pathological examination. It is standard procedure to destroy the head of a downed cyberpsycho, even if they appear to be dead. You never know what kind of redundant life support system they may have installed," said the old man, taking a sip from a glass of water that he had brought in.
He then shrugged, "As far as what bioware treatment I want you to receive, well, it doesn't have a name. I've made it up myself based on a number of papers I've read, but basically, it will increase the density and, therefore, the bandwidth capacity of the nerves in all of your extremities. I expect this will drastically reduce the amount of neural inflammation you should expect to see due to the Kerenzikov pumping over twice the amount of signals your motor neurons are used to receiving on a continuous basis. I've used it before with multiple Sandevistan installs to the point where I will probably write a paper on it now that I can include a Kerenzikov example. You'll be anonymised, of course."
"Of course," I murmured while thinking about his idea. It was a good one and one I should have thought of myself. It wouldn't make the changes I made to the implant redundant, but it would tend to allow me to move at higher speeds longer before inflammation and then automatic performance degradation kicked in. It would let me work out and train a lot longer at a higher speed, which would be very helpful.
I nodded, "Okay. I agree to all of those conditions. I was going to do a self-assessment weekly, anyway. I don't think I will experience problems that I won't be able to overcome, though." At least not with an implant installed in my body, anyway. I felt pretty confident about that. Everything else in my life that wasn't connected to my or another person's body was another question entirely, though.
"Alright. We can get everything done today if you don't have anything in your schedule. It'll be four hours in the tank and then maybe another two for the implantation," Doctor Taylor told me as he stood up, carefully smoothing down some wrinkles in his pants.
It was Saturday morning, and one of the few Saturdays where we didn't have to spend at the hospital, so I didn't have anything too pressing I needed to do. I had already blocked out this day to get used to the difference in speed before I went to school on Monday, so I nodded, "That sounds good."
Fuck, that was the third time I hit myself in the face when I went to scratch my nose. I could see how someone could go crazy with this. It would make a lot more sense, from a not hitting myself in the face sort of way, to start training the system at a five per cent boost, but not only would that ultimately take a lot longer, but it would also stretch out the time until I had effective super reflexes. I wanted that as soon as possible, so I would just have to cope.
The TV was tuned to the news, "Noooowwwww whaaat's neeeexxxxxt ohhhnnn Nettttwoooorrkk Fiiiiffftyyy Fooouurr Neeeewws. Aaaaree Biiiirds Killlleeerrrrs? Fiiinnnd oouuutt..."
For fucks sake! I turned the TV off, sighing. I could see how this might be a problem if I couldn't get used to it. I had already used sped-up video clips playing on my implants to determine that I experienced time almost exactly three times faster than my previous baseline.
Well, I clicked the news back on. There was no point in getting pissed off at it, even if it was kind of irritating. I would adapt. I heard that people could adapt to listening to books on tape at double or triple speed, and that was basically just what I needed to do, except in reverse, and for my entire life. It'd be fine.
It was not fine! It was not fine at all! I had given up my plans to start at the maximum level of boost and work my way down and instead switched over to starting at about half and working my way up. It only took an hour of watching television in slow motion before I realised it just wouldn't work.
I felt it wouldn't cost that much more time as I wouldn't, at first, need to work through the lower settings. Realistically I didn't need to get acclimated to the very low settings, possibly at all, but definitely not at first. I suspected that the biomonitor would only drop the Kerenzikov up to fifteen per cent even if there were signs of neural inflammation. The idea was to keep it from happening at all, after all.
When the kerenzikov was working at its half setting, it was similar to experiencing everything at twice the normal speed, which wasn't as bad as almost three times. A three times kereznikov seemed like a pretty sophisticated version, even if it was several years old, so it was clearly one of Kang Tao's military models and one they didn't, probably, sell to the general public.
I glanced at Mr Pegpig, the pigeon, and wondered. The news seemed to indicate that several Night City politicians were campaigning on a law to eradicate all birds in the city. That seemed... short-sighted. Both my medical sense and my knowledge of history were telling me this. Hadn't Chairman Mao done the same thing in China in the 1950s? And it resulted in millions of deaths due to the fact that insect and locust populations soared?
I laid back on my couch and triggered a deep dive connection to the net. Normally netrunners would only do "deep dives" via a wired interface socket connection, but it was definitely possible to do so wirelessly, and I wasn't intending on hacking anything, so the slightly degraded performance was fine. If the way netrunners normally used their decks was similar to Augmented Reality, then a deep dive was Virtual Reality.
I had already chosen and carefully built my ICON, my virtual avatar. It was a white, snowy owl. I flapped my wings and flew off in the direction of downtown. Over forty years ago, the discovery and implementation of the Ihara-Grub Transformation Algorithms transformed the net and made such things possible. They allowed the Net to be rendered as an analogue to the real world. They extrapolated distances and bearings to look similar to real space. So, since I wanted to connect to the school library's intranet, I navigated west, towards, that direction on the Net.
Flapping to a stop, I entered the library's system, and my surroundings shifted to an almost perfect reproduction of the library's foyer, except there was an access control system that took the form of a stylised police officer, in this case, it was a reproduction of Sgt Joe Friday from the TV show Dragnet, which I remembered from Brockton Bay. Surprisingly, it was also present here, even if the actor looked slightly different.
"How are you doing, Sergeant?" I asked the ICE.
It replied, "I'll be doing better when you give me your login credentials. Just the facts, ma'am."
It would only ever reply in something along these lines, worse than even a chatbot. I sighed, which came out of my ICON as a long, annoyed hoot, but I complied and triggered my credential management system to forward my login info to the ICE. The library didn't even pay extra for the seamless login module, where the ICE would let me through, and I would step inside the library. Instead, the world shifted, and I was inside the library instantly.
I couldn't access everything I could while in person from this net address. Many of the academic journals had licensing restrictions that permitted freely reading their journals only if you were physically present, but I could read quite a bit of their books, especially ones nobody thought too much about, like histories.
Doing a quick search caused a number of books to fly off their shelves and collect around the table I was using as a roost, and I bobbed my owl head in satisfaction. History of China in the 20th Century, The Great Leap Forward and its Consequences, The Four Pests Campaign: Objectives, Execution, Failure, And Consequences, and a number of others.
Simultaneously, I triggered a word processor and began to peck out words with my talons and beak. Although in actuality, I was using my fingers, I had spent a long time on this ICON, and it had animations mapped for a number of different humanoid-only actions. Seeing myself rapidly tapping translucent keys with my beak and talons was enough to set me giggling for a moment, which came out as a rapid 'hoot-hoot-hoot.'
Honestly, I didn't expect these letters to do anything at all. But maybe I could send it to one of the professors at school. There was an epidemiologist and pathological expert there. I got the impression they might either not know about this proposal from the politicians, or they didn't really care because, honestly, the effects on Night City wouldn't be too severe. All of the locally grown food was grown in greenhouses, after all, and rich people wouldn't need to worry about the uptick in bloodborne pathogens that the increased insect population would engender.
Still, if I could present it to them as a no-work-needed thing, perhaps they would use their contacts in the city to do something, especially if I let them take all or most of the credit.
I bobbed my little owl head again and got to work writing a well-researched letter.
I got to the gym pretty early on Sunday and realised that my normal workout time might have to be adjusted. I was running two times as much in the same amount of time, and I was quickly working myself to exhaustion. That was... good, though, I supposed. Although, I raised a few eyebrows at the people watching me.
The combination of my muscle and bone lace and the kerenzikov had me running at what appeared to them to be a flat-out sprint for a long time. Little did they know I could run at least twice as fast as that and even more if I switched to full boost. Having good athleticism and an in-shape body was absolutely a prerequisite for these types of installed reflex enhancements. Installing a high-end Sandy in someone that wasn't in good shape might cause them to have a cardiac arrest if their resting heart rate wasn't already low, or possibly a brain aneurysm if their intracranial blood pressure was exceptionally high.
I saw my running buddy appear from the locker room as I was getting off the treadmill, but something caused me to pause and then take another look at her.
She wasn't looking too good. She was diaphoretic and appeared to have difficulty walking steadily. There was no way I was going to let her get on a fucking treadmill; that was for certain. I walked up to her and took her arm to steady her, "Woah, woah." It was then that I realised that I had never introduced myself to her or knew her name even though we had been running together for months now.
I used my Kiroshis to scan her face, getting an NCPD report that her name was Himiko Masuda, with no real rap sheet to speak of beyond civil infractions. I carefully enunciated each tone, talking especially slowly so that I hoped it would come out at a normal speed and not like I was auctioneering, "Nope, nope, Himiko. We're going right back to the locker room. You don't look so good. How are you feeling?"
"Uhh.. not too great, now that you mention it," said the woman, and I walked her back into the locker room and had her sit down while I peered at her. I had taken her pulse manually, using a chronometer on my implant, as I held her wrist and shoulder, and she was in tachycardia with a pulse rate of over one thirty.
"How long have you been feeling poorly?" I asked her as I gently palpated her body, my focus shifting to her head and neck. The lymph nodes in her neck were swollen, and the area around her operating system installation was slightly red and inflamed.
She coughed out a laugh and shrugged, "Well, I've been getting headaches ever since I got this upgraded doll implant a couple of months ago. There were issues with my old one integrating into Clouds systems, and this was a newer version."
I stared at her, aghast, "Months?!" I doubted very much she went to a reputable clinic, either. "Alright, Himiko. You definitely have a problem with your implant. I think it's best that you come back with me to my place briefly. I'm not a ripperdoc, obviously, but I am a med-tech. I can use some of my equipment to diagnose what's wrong properly." I paused, "Would you like to call a friend to come with you? I know we don't really know each other that well, so I wouldn't trust myself if I was you."
She laughed and said, "Yeah, if you don't mind. Where do you live? She can meet us there."
"I live right next to Clouds, in what used to be that old convenience store," I tell her.
She glanced up, "Well, that's convenient. I was always sad when they closed up a year ago because they had pretty good burritos there. Let me get my clothes out of my locker."
I let her get her clothes and shoes and offered to carry them for her as we left the gym and walked slowly back to my apartment. It seemed like we were not even moving we were moving so slowly, but I realised that was mainly the kerenzikov combined with the fact that she was actually moving quite slowly on top of that.
After a short elevator ride and a walk back to my place saw a young woman, a girl really, possibly my age, rushed over to us and askEd, worriedly, "Himiko, are you alright?! You look awful? Who is this? That suit you run with every morning? She's a MedTech?"
Wow, good thing I had a kerenzikov to keep up with motor mouth here. I was trying, especially hard, not to think about Clouds employing fifteen or sixteen-year-old girls, as I had detected similar doll hardware on this new girl. Was that just me being hypocritical? Wasn't I doing the same thing, except just my line of work wasn't sexualised, so I felt better about it? I wasn't going to criticise anyone doing what they had to do to survive in this fucked up city.
"Yes, my name is Taylor Hebert. I'm a MedTech. Let's get Himiko inside, and then you can introduce yourself too," I told the motor mouth, who nodded while helping her friend walk inside my apartment.
The convenience store area had a lot of boxes in it, as I mainly used it for storage, but I had managed to acquire some furniture here and there around the Megabuilding as people moved out and, for one reason or another, couldn't take anything with them. I always carefully cleaned and disinfected everything I took, though, as god knows what depravity people in this future did to a loveseat.
I motioned to the aforementioned clean and disinfected loveseat, "Have a seat there. I need to go get some equipment." And with that, I disappeared briefly into the private area of my apartment. I didn't have anything as useful as a combined vital monitor defibrillator system that any ambulance might have, but I did have some old-school blood pressure cuffs and a firewall for myself if I was going to be directly connecting to her OS to diagnose any irregularities with her system.
Firewalls were, strictly speaking, not one hundred per cent legal equipment, although I wasn't sure why and they were readily available for sale in most electronic stores. They looked similar to a wreath, but they wrapped around your neck, and you would connect your system to it while connecting the firewall, inline, to some system that you suspected might be dangerous of having malware. They worked almost identically to the braindance firewall I made myself.
Finally, I brought a pitcher of clean water, a few glasses and a number of pills that I kept in my medical supplies.
Carrying everything out into the next room, I sat things down on a table near them. "Okay, I am pretty sure I know what is wrong with you already, but I will need to connect directly to your system, place it in diagnostic mode, and run a few tests to be sure." I poured myself a small glass of water and drank it right in front of them, both because I was thirsty and to show them it wasn't drugged.
Himiko nodded, and the girl my age bobbed her head and said, "Oh. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Evelyn. Nice to meet you. Thank you for helping Himiko; she has been uhh... I guess a mentor to me."
I nodded at the girl and walked over to sit on the floor next to the loveseat. I pulled an interface cord from my firewall and plugged it into the interface socket on the back of Himiko's neck as information started scrolling through my vision. I glanced at the girl and couldn't contain myself anymore, "Uhh... is it legal for you to be working at Clouds? I'm not judging or anything, but..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say.
That caused her to laugh, "Ah, yes. I'm seventeen, which is an adult as far as sex work is concerned in Night City. This is only a temporary gig for me; I'm planning on becoming an actress!" Oh, so she was over a year older than me. Certainly didn't look it.
I nodded and told Himiko, "Okay, I'm going to put your doll chip into diagnostic mode." This caused her to blink, "Oh, so I will not remember the rest?"
I shook my head, "That isn't a function of how doll chips work; it is just considered a feature. In diagnostic mode, it shouldn't be enabled; you will be aware but not really able to move or do anything for a brief moment." That caused Evelyn to look interested, "Really? How do they remove the memories of when you were plugged in, then?"
I triggered the diagnostic mode and started to say, "Well, the simplest method is to disconnect your short-term and long-term mem---" but instead of the placid diagnostic mode I was expecting, Himiko turned to me and stared down at me imperiously.
She said haughtily, "It is good that you are on your knees before me, slut, but why are you still wearing clothes?!"
I coughed, almost choking in surprise as Evelyn started laughing uproariously, and I quickly disabled the diagnostic mode, confused. Himiko immediately blushed and said, "I'm sorry!"
I waved her away, "That's not a problem, but that isn't how these chips are supposed to work. Nothing is supposed to be kept between sessions." I started zeroing into the problem and sighed when I realised what the issue was.
I finally say, "I don't think much about whatever Ripperdoc you used, Himiko. Let me explain the problems, and then we can talk about the solutions."
She nodded, so I carefully disconnected from her interface socket and said, "First of all, the interface between your central nervous system, brain and cybernetics isn't great. The doctor that put this in probably isn't even a real doctor; second, it hasn't been properly calibrated. Third, in order to save fifty eddies, the doctor didn't download and install the genuine firmware for this model of doll chip. He half-jailbroke it, running it in what amounted to diagnostic mode every time you used it. That's not good for a number of reasons. You probably experienced some personality bleed over, even."
She looked incensed, "To save fifty eddies?!" I nodded. Evelyn shook her head, "We make almost five hundred eddies a day, usually. Even if we only have two clients."
Wow. That indicated that Clouds probably charged a couple thousand eurodollars, or more, to their customers per "session." They make more than her dad did!
I grabbed a bottle of pills and shook two out, and handed them to her, "These are neural anti-inflammatories." I grabbed another bottle and shook out two more, "These are normal systemic NSAID anti-inflammatories, just regular naproxen you can get over the counter for pain anywhere in the city."
I poured her a glass of water, and she glanced at them for a moment before shrugging and swallowing them with the water. I nod at her and stand up, and sit in a chair near the loveseat, "So, here is what I recommend. I can download and install the genuine firmware for your doll chip; I'll charge you just the fifty eddies it costs me and five to install it. You also have malware, a trojan, installed on your OS. I will clear that for free. To calibrate all of your implants will take about an hour, so that's one hundred eddies."
I didn't actually have permission to charge for medical services rendered, but I felt that these women would be more suspicious if I didn't charge them anything. I would be if I were them.
I finish, "I can't really do anything about the interface problems with your cyberware. You need some nanomeds, additional surgery or both, which I don't have and can't provide. I will give you a prescription of which type of nanomed you need and how you should take them, but you'll have to buy them yourself. You should be able to get them at most pharmacies downtown, but they're over seven hundred eddies for a one-month supply, and you'll need to be on them for at least sixty to ninety days. Ideally, you shouldn't ever go back to any of the rippers on Jig-Jig street. You guys make enough money to actually go to a reputable place, and I implore you to do so."
Himiko looked rather furious, "I see. I went to the doctor that the management at Clouds recommended. I don't think I will take their recommendations in the future as far as that is concerned. Please, do everything you can." With that, I received a digital transfer of funds and nodded.
Evelyn perked up, "Uh... can you check me next? I don't really have issues with my 'ware, but now I'm kind of nervous."
I nodded at her, "Sure," while internally, I logged into the net site for Cyberdyne Systems... wait, didn't they make Terminators?! That Earth Aleph movie flashed into my mind. Well, here they made doll chips, amongst other things, and paid them fifty eurodollars for a genuine copy of their latest firmware. But before I did, I did verify that there was no associated SkyNet product line, just to be safe.
