My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt

Whoosh.

The metal sliding door automatically opened.

The clinic was uneventful, Ryan sat drinking by the metal table, watching a very old movie on TV, the room was somewhat dim without lights.

"Sangma Rebi Pool..."

Ryan mumbled and cursed.

"You can still control the clinic's system... Has that Black Light thing recovered? Ah, makes sense, after all, you still know the way, lively as ever."

"Who pissed you off?"

John looked around, put away his gun, and placed the sealed box on an empty table.

Ryan glanced at the Raqi Industry logo.

He spat into the trash can, raised his middle finger, his face saying get out.

"I don't operate on dead people."

"Hey, doc, what's going on? You promised to help me, didn't you say back then you'd even give me a discount?"

"That was in the past, buddy."

Ryan lowered his legs from the table.

The time since John last left was not long, but compared to how long they had known the doctor, it had been quite a while without any news.

"You left a farewell and vanished, not a single word since then, oh, wait, some chick came by asking for consult data..."

"Oh, F*ck."

John sighed, hands on his hips.

"You think I didn't see you as a friend because I didn't update you after surviving? Listen, the messes I've been through lately are unreal..."

"Sure, John, look at yourself."

Ryan waved his big hand over him.

"What's that? Sianweistan, and the subdermal armor's been repaired, huh, custom upper body prosthetics, no low specs there, above average, I recognize a Glider arm at least."

He sneered.

"Impressive, John, you're decked out in expensive gear, doing mighty fine, so why come here to scare folks?"

"Hey, doctor, I..."

John wanted to explain, taking a long time to form words, but felt guilty however he thought it through.

Eden had warned him:

Having a prosthetic body doctor in Eden City you can entrust your life to is extremely fortunate.

Ryan was still going on.

That's just his nagging nature.

"Honestly, you being dead wouldn't be so bad, better than half-dead at my clinic's doorstep, constantly challenging my technical limits... Just leave, find a private hospital or someone else."

"I trust you, doctor, I swear, our interests are tied together, remember?"

John fully surrendered.

"Being scared by a dead man is indeed awful, but crawling out of a grave isn't easy either... Honestly, for some of those prosthetic surgeries, I had no choice, spine broken, arms mashed to pulp, what could I do?"

"...You're one hell of a jerk."

Ryan frowned and sighed, didn't seem like he had much else to say beyond cursing a bit.

John also sat down.

The two chatted over drinks, mostly about life after departure and a series of mishaps.

Ryan wasn't too shocked.

John had long been on a road of no return, encountering all sorts of events was normal, kind of like a fleeting big shot on the streets.

Eventually, the topic narrowed to prosthetics.

John lay on the operating chair, prosthetic information cycling on the computer screen.

Ryan, after scanning through, furrowed his brow.

After examining John's bodily components, his evaluation was:

"Foie gras and caviar."

"What do you mean?"

"You have plenty of good stuff in you, when I implanted that prosthetic eye for you, I figured since you saved my life it deserved something decent, though I thought it a bit of a waste cramming it into your head... Now, it fits pretty well."

Ryan continued examining the components.

"How much do you know about these implants?"

"The relationship between a patient and bones."

John made an analogy.

Bones, encased in flesh, hold up the body; everyone knows how to use them, but the limits and specific information about bones leave them puzzled.

The doctor focused specifically on the Igdrasir.

This alloy skeleton not only made John's fists exceptionally tough.

His arms were just part of it, of course, there was only the right hand left after Big Ghost crushed part of it.

But John still underestimated it.

From neck to spinal column, his range was covered by Igdrasir, internally linked with organs, posteriorly adapted to the spine.

"It's got ports and spaces pre-installed for every implant conceivable, even if you eventually modify to Alpha Level, it can still always be used."

Ryan took a deep breath.

"Remember what I told you? To have reverence for flesh and blood. This prosthetic body is terrifying, because from the start, the design sees the user as less than human."

John, lying on the operating table, said nothing.

Oulos designed Igdrasir, it was likely reserved for the Armored·Behemoth, the heavily modified person needing lesser prosthetic configuration.

This theory was conveyed to John by the Serum.

For Ironfoot Kelp to escape the Big Ghost Mecha alive, he must switch to a lighter body.

For Armored·Behemoth to escape his lethargic state, free from nutrient solutions and wires, would probably require an entire new set of implants.

Ryan tapped the tabletop.

"Do you know the difference between Sianweistan, how frequently you use it?"

"Uh, not sure."

John thought over before saying.

"Recent work has been far more dangerous than before, without this spinal cord I would've kicked the bucket already, using it every day, signs of overloading each time..."

John detailed his sensations.

Ryan kept frowning, occasionally peeking at him, unable but to actively ask.

"Shutting off equipment do you see double, first uses did you trip on flat ground, or involuntarily crash into obstacles, frequent neck twists or sprains?"

"..."

John pursed his lips.

Ryan realized the situation was serious.

"All of those?"

"None, doc, this thing is just a slow-motion player, I'm pretty handy with it actually."

"F*ck, you're a monster."

Ryan took a deep breath and exclaimed.

Sianweistan marks a prominent threshold for heavy modification, to enable easy movement under a time-stopped environment requires all sorts of new tools, while neural stimulation exponentially increases.

This "junction" has birthed many deranged individuals.

Most ordinary folks even if crossing the surgical hurdle, still leave aftereffects, in the adjustment to time-stopping, very easily becoming cyber psychotic.

"Although you're different, you were already a madman, it's just that Black Light thing suppressing symptoms, keeping implants from overwhelming you."

Ryan seemed somewhat unwilling to accept this.

John hesitated briefly before speaking.

"Doctor, remember I told you about the Tiebang Logistics heist?"

He relayed all he'd gathered from Silver Port to Ryan Randall.

The doctor's world-weary face finally showed a genuine expression of shock.

This kind of thing is a bit intense for ordinary folks.

"Good thing I wasn't involved, as a bystander, I'll take it as an urban legend, well, if that's the case... Lots of things now make sense."

Ryan considered treating John as an experimental subject.

He noticed abnormalities from the first surgery he performed on this guy, including subdermal bleeding points and various drug tests.

"Let's put these troublesome matters aside, I've only seen your face from start to finish, don't know that Chavez, just don't switch to a new body when you contact me next time."

Ryan resumed operations on the keyboard.

John's bodily implants were adjusted to very appropriate standings, it was like a professional designer was constantly helping him calibrate.

This "adjustment" has its limits.

People normally also add programs, or adapt based on personal habits, to create a uniquely perfect feel.

Ryan added some newbie-friendly stuff to John, to help him more intuitively monitor Sianweistan's status.

"Open your eyes and take a look."

John did as the doctor instructed, a bar appeared at the bottom right of his retina after the progress bar loaded.

Several marks were in it.

John could distinctly feel this thing was connected with his spinal cord.