CYBERPUNK: Travel to 2075

..New Communications..

"Bang bang bang."

"Coming! Who is it?"

Not long after finishing dinner with his sister, Oliver returned to his apartment to rest. Just as he sat down, there was a knock at the door. Grumbling slightly, Oliver connected to the room's camera to check who was outside. After confirming the visitor, he quickly walked over and opened the door.

"Karl? Why do you look so beat up?"

"I took a private job. Made some money from that last commission for the corporate dog. Thought I'd celebrate by buying some stuff. I also sent a message to Jack. He should be here soon."

Karl walked into Oliver's apartment, carrying bags full of food and drinks. After setting them down, he pulled out a piece of steak and handed it to Oliver. "Here, have some steak."

"I just finished eating, and now you're offering me steak… Wait, you said you took a private job for the corporate dogs. Why didn't you tell me or Jack?"

Oliver took the steak, but then realized what Karl had said. "You went on a job without telling us? You're working too hard."

"Yeah, I know, but the employer specifically asked for one person. It was just a bodyguard job."

"A bodyguard?"

Oliver scanned Karl for injuries but didn't see any. "Looks like the negotiations went smoothly."

"They went pretty well," Karl replied. He wasn't lying; the employer had no objections, nor did anyone else. It was all smooth sailing.

"Turn on the TV," Karl said, "I want to see what's happening around town today."

"Not much, I bet," Oliver shrugged. It cost extra to use the TV, but since his friend wanted to watch, he wasn't going to refuse. As he connected the TV, Oliver—despite claiming to be full—took a bite of the steak in his hand.

"Not bad. Tastes like rib steak. Costs 20 euros a piece. I don't usually splurge like this."

"Exactly, can't waste it," Karl replied.

"Of course, can't waste it," Oliver agreed, though he was still feeling full. But then he noticed the steak had some obvious cuts at the corners. "Wait a minute, Karl. You said 'can't waste'..."

Oliver suddenly remembered the last time Karl had ordered way too much food at a Japanese restaurant and couldn't finish it.

"Don't tell me you bought more than we can eat again!"

Oliver stared at the bags of food and drinks in disbelief.

"No, no," Karl said. "I just didn't want the steak to go to waste. The rest is mostly snacks—potato chips, chocolate bars, stuff like that. And don't worry, it's all substitute cocoa butter, not the real thing."

"Well, that's a relief."

Oliver quickly finished his steak, and just as he did, Jack arrived. He had stopped by the Wild coyote Bar and brought some fries made by Mrs. Wells.

"Oh, my favorite!"

Karl, who loved Mrs. Wells' fries even more than Jack, eagerly grabbed a large bag and sat on the sofa to eat. Jack smiled and found a seat on the couch, but the moment he sat down, he felt something hard beneath him. Looking down, he realized he had sat on a small submachine gun.

A Saratoga submachine gun! Karl, where did you get this?"

"I picked it up after taking out some Maelstrom Gang members. It's yours."

"This is one hell of a little gun."

Jack couldn't stop admiring the weapon. Then, like Oliver, he processed what Karl had said.

"Wait, what did you say? You took out the Maelstrom Gang?"

Karl sighed and explained what had happened, just as he had to Oliver earlier.

"Was it that same employer again?" Jack asked, pulling the bolt of the submachine gun and listening to the satisfying click.

"Yeah, it was worth celebrating tonight."

"My place is big enough for all of us. We can eat, drink, and there are vending machines if we need more. But the only food I have left is burritos—and I doubt Karl would like the meat in them."

As Oliver spoke, the TV screen shifted from the usual news to a breaking report.

"Good evening, everyone. This is Gillian Jordan with an emergency report from News 54. Just half an hour ago, a cyberpsycho attack occurred in a restaurant at Kabuki Hall in Watson District. The exact death toll is still unclear, but a counter-terrorist team has been deployed. Residents in and around Kabuki are urged to stay indoors until the situation is resolved."

"Cyberpsychosis again?" Jack muttered as scenes of gunfire flashed on the screen. "Seems to happen once a month."

"There are more and more lunatics out there," Oliver said, eyes glued to the broadcast. Then he noticed that Karl had stopped eating his fries.

Karl was staring at the footage of the restaurant, his brow furrowed.

"I was just at that restaurant."

"Wait, Karl, you bought food from that place?" Oliver asked.

"The packaging is still in the bag. I can't mistake it for anywhere else."

"So, if you'd stayed a little longer…?" Oliver began.

Karl nodded. "If I had taken my time, I would've run into that cyberpsycho."

"Guess you're lucky," Jack said, confused by Karl's dissatisfaction.

"Yeah, lucky," Karl muttered. "But I did like the staff there. Too bad we won't be able to eat there for a while."

But that's just life in Night City, in 2075.

Just as he was thinking this, Karl's communication device beeped with an incoming call.

"A spam call?" Karl wondered aloud. Not wanting to be disturbed while eating, he hung up. But the call came through again immediately.

Figuring it wasn't spam, Karl answered this time. A calm voice came through on the other end.

"Karl, right? My name is Faraday. I've got a job that might interest you."

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