My cyberpsychosis is a task prompt

Chapter 155: Brain and Memory
The streets in the East District were full of business and were not affected too much, just as if the gang war that swept the city was no different from the heavy rain that affected people from going out.

The office workers took taxis and subways to the bar entrance, trotting in groups, and the men and women in exaggerated styles began to think about where to spend the night.

John withdrew his gaze, went to the back row, took out a rifle named Nova from his equipment bag for self-defense, and then walked underground along the graffiti-covered cement passage.

【Eden City-Eastern District Underground Clinic】

There were two bottles of wine on the metal table.

There was condensation on the surface of the glass and there were ice cubes in the whiskey glass that had not yet melted.

Ryan picked up the gurgling wine and pushed it down his throat, pursing his lips as if he was tasting it, or as if he was enduring it. It took a long time before he exhaled the breath with a strong smell of wine.

"You know what? John, there have been countless crazy people in this city. They have one thing in common with you. Before they die, they always take something with them. To put it bluntly, they just make trouble everywhere."

“…Doctor, I was dragged into this.”

"Wow, really? You don't act like a victim. The Owl Town Gang is so stupid that they just sent a few cannon fodder. If you ask me, those cars were wasted."

Ryan stood in front of the mobile screen, frowning as he observed the data on it. While retorting to John, he touched his head with his palm dipped in cold water, as if it could cool down his bald head.

John was lying on the examination bed and was about to say something, but he looked up and saw the scanner moving to his chest, so he lay back down.

The arc-shaped metal swept across his face, stopped at the prosthetic eye, and projected a blue light.

John plugged in a data cable, and Black Light could directly access the clinic system to view his physical data, but he did not have the corresponding knowledge to analyze and make a diagnosis.

Ryan's expression was a little solemn. It was obvious that the news that popped up on the screen was not good news.

He exhaled lightly and raised the glass.

"Well, congratulations, you big idiot."

Ryan rubbed his forehead and turned the screen around.

"Your desperate efforts to seek death have finally paid off. Look at this area..."

"Fuck, what is this, noodle sauce?"

John narrowed his eyes and grinned in slight disgust.

The doctor said indifferently while holding the wine.

"This is your frontal lobe. Even if you don't understand medicine, just by looking at this patch of red, you can tell that there is something wrong with your brain, right?"

"Most of the time, they're white, and they were all over the ground on my way here."

John was even in the mood to joke, as if that wasn't his own diagnosis.

He stood up, shook out his coat, and put it back on.

The doctor sat down in the wheelchair.

"Are you mentally prepared?"

"..."

John turned his back to Ryan, raised his hand to adjust his coat, and sighed helplessly.

"I'm almost used to it. Just tell me straight."

"Your brain has been severely stimulated. Although you have adapted well to the transformation and had the graphene chip transplanted in time, the damage before that cannot be repaired. You will become a vegetable or suffer from dementia in at most half a year."

The doctor smiled bitterly and shook his head when he said this.

"Ah, sorry, I'm not gloating. In the past, when I pronounced death sentences on other patients, they would usually... well, you know, get excited, and sometimes I would have to give them a shot of tranquilizer first."

"I'm nervous too, Doctor."

John pulled the metal bench over, flipped it over, and placed his weight from chest up on the backrest.

"It's impossible to be indifferent to life and death. I even feel like I'm being raped by life. I've worked so hard for so long and suffered so much, but I've barely extended my life for half a year."

He said as he held out his hand for a drink.

Ryan touched his fat belly and wanted to say - if you're going to die, don't waste food - but in the end he smacked his lips and swallowed the discouraging words.

"Then what do you think?"

"Ha, I'm very stable. I'm used to the days of having a gun on my head. A little sense of urgency is good. It can get me moving. I've been wandering around the city lately. I always feel like I'm wasting my life."

"It's definitely not a waste, but it's definitely made a lot of people mad."

Ryan typed on the keyboard, and seeing that John was in a relatively stable mood, he pointed at the data and analyzed it for him.

"Your body was originally in a sealed jar. I've seen similar things before. It's probably an experimental product used for testing by some institution..."

This also explains why John adapted to the prosthetic modification very quickly, perhaps due to long-term training in rejection.

The problem exposed this time is that John has extremely low resistance to hallucinogenic drugs.

"This problem is difficult to discover through medical diagnosis. I only noticed it because you actually encountered it in actual combat... In short, your body has not been damaged by too many chemical hallucinogens. Your nerves are as sensitive as a baby's. Once you are slightly stimulated by drugs, you will have wild fantasies and cannot stop..."

John listened carefully.

The low resistance to hallucinogenic drugs is a minor drawback. It is not too fatal at present. It can be gradually desensitized with time and exposure, and it can also be circumvented through biotechnology products, such as the special candy that Oros shared with him when he took him to a restaurant for dinner last time.

"Well, it wasn't a wasted trip. At least you got to know my body."

John looked very calm and drank Ryan's wine without hesitation. There was a large-scale curfew in Eden City now, so he planned to stay in the clinic until dawn.

Drone food delivery is still operating as usual.

John bought some fried foods and pizza from a chain store, then locked the door of the clinic with Ryan Randall and watched old movies quietly - this was the doctor's hobby, and he even set aside a wall to store his collection, with two rows of original Blu-ray discs from before Hollywood was bombed, kept in dust covers and played with old playback equipment.

The doctor watched with great interest, saying that this product of previous visual industrial distortion occasionally bursts with art and creativity.

John wasn't very interested.

He is a generation polluted by super-sensory chips and has experienced the immersive stimulation of full-sensory rendering. For him, watching this kind of 3D product is as boring as squatting on the side of the road and looking up at a building advertisement.

The doctor takes on the role of audience and commentator.

He is like an old antique in cyberspace who adds a "nostalgic" label to himself, but his actual age is far from the year the movie was released, so his nostalgia is groundless and more like an alternative hobby.

John, for his part, is focused on eliminating fried foods.

The takeout has a thick, oily smell that makes your throat greasy. The main dish is made from street-style synthetic meat chunks wrapped in seasoned paste, cooked in low-quality oil, and then sprinkled with spices after being taken out.

He chewed the meat, feeling the woody and loose texture between his teeth, and silently analyzed the specific process.

"Doctor, I'm planning to open a food store and sell fresh meat. If you're interested, you can come and support me and ask the store clerk to give you a discount... How about I use your drinks as compensation?"

Ryan turned around in the dim basement with his arms folded.

It took him a few seconds to shake off his greasy and decadent state, and then he slowly digested John's words before he let out a laugh.

"What the hell, when I cut you open, why didn't you show any conscience..." "What the hell are you talking about? We are... friends, right?"

John hesitated. "Oh shit, that sounds equally bad. After all, there's a generation gap between us. Maybe you can tell me about the story before you were kidnapped by the Nocturne Bar, and the mercenaries you met."

"They are all dead. This is the price of becoming a great man. When legends reach the pinnacle, there is no ending worthy of them except death."

Ryan did not elaborate.

There was no sign of nostalgia or sadness in his expression, nor any strong desire to communicate. In the end, he muttered words like "grocery store" and "discount" and shook his head and sneered.

"Do you really realize that you only have half a year to live?"

"of course."

John's tone was firm, but his drinking was calm. "This city has taught me to face disappointment. How bad can it get?"

He actually had a vague direction in his heart.

Now that we have clues about the mercenaries who hijacked the vehicle, try tracking them and maybe there will be a turning point.

"Well, I must say, compared to those dead legends, your dying performance was pretty good..."

Ryan joked, and thought for a moment, as if he was just chatting casually.

The doctor said that John's biggest problem right now is brain damage, and he had heard of a company called Gaia Cell, which can repair severely damaged brains and even make a one-to-one replica.

"Copy and paste your brain? You must be kidding."

"I thought it was nonsense at first, but later I learned that this operation is mainly divided into two parts. The first is brain tissue repair, and the second is memory extraction and transplantation."

Ryan held the bottle of wine and touched his scalp nervously, as if he was discussing an ethical issue.

Among the most widely used technologies in the cyber age are memory retrieval and storage. Some European institutions even have dedicated memory storage banks.

Related applications can also be seen in daily life in Eden City.

There are a large number of sex dolls providing services in erotic entertainment venues, and they often wear special behavioral chips - this thing is similar to street action chips, the latter provides killing and fighting techniques, while the former provides superb pleasure skills.

One of the most important functions of the sex partner behavior chip is memory storage.

It will make the server lose all memory of this period after finishing work until the customer places an order again, thus continuing the past habits and awakening the last process.

Except for sex dolls, most memories are extracted and used to make super-sensory chips, which can be read and experienced by others in hardware form.

The company will solicit citizens to purchase some memories as materials for the production of advertisements and super-sensory chips. Customers whose memories are extracted will experience slight side effects, but the rewards given by the company will still attract many people.

All of the above technologies have prerequisites. In a sense, the "memories" that are retrieved are material things that can be processed, compiled, and read. However, if this thing is put back into the brain intact and becomes a part of the subconscious, the difficulty is completely different.

"Can you really do that?"

"I used to doubt it, until I met you." The doctor looked at him expressionlessly. "How do you think the process of changing you from Chavez to John was achieved? Wouldn't it be easier to accept replacing your memory than replacing your brain?"

"alright, you win."

John gave up arguing, after all, he didn't know the details.

“Even if the technology breaks through, where should I start?”

"Haven't you already encountered this? A former colleague from Tiebang Logistics was sold to Plato for experiments, which caused his memory to become confused. You've also met their supervisor... The person who deals with memory, most likely has technology related to brain repair."

Ryan provided ideas in the form of casual conversation, without discussing whether they could be implemented.

"In short, it's all about saving your brain, John. Just because we can't do it doesn't mean that the rich can't do it. The technology they can enjoy should be relatively mature."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

John smiled and raised his glass. "If we continue talking, I'm going to feel hopeful about the future."

"Heh, good luck...oh no, good death."

Hey~
Ryan and John clinked their glasses.

John spent his time in bed, covered with a starched white blanket that smelled of disinfectant.

to be honest……

John himself didn't expect to sleep so soundly. Perhaps after so many times on the brink of death, even his brain nerves had begun to learn to adapt and adjust themselves.

Anxiety cannot change the status quo, so just live a down-to-earth life.

The underground commercial street in the East District is very extensive.

The black market transactions are maintained by an independent armed group that originated during the Eden City Independence War. They maintained street peace amid the chaos and, after many upheavals and changes, stabilized their sphere of influence in this mixed underground commercial district.

Its main structure is underground in the city.

The black market consists of abandoned subway platforms, urban pipelines, the basements of three nearby large supermarkets, and some abandoned air-raid facilities.

The area is exaggerated.

That’s why there’s a saying that the GDP of the East District of Eden City is divided into two parts: the prosperity is maintained by corporate dogs in suits and tattooed gangsters with guns.

John spent the morning wandering around the black market, picking out several food stalls and dividing up his stomach space.

Maybe because he is going to open a shop, he has been focusing on related things recently and even developed a desire to taste more street food.

During this process, I became familiar with the East District black market and roughly understood what services each area could provide.

Quite comprehensive.

Most of the shop owners who can survive in this area are smart and well-informed.

If you have an introduction from someone you know, you can use your street reputation to get discounts, hidden products, or customized services.

John has a fairly big reputation among the lone wolf mercenaries. Many people have heard of him, but his reputation has been drowned out by a large number of street stories.

He finished the last of his meal, waved to pay the bill, and was about to leave when he noticed - from under a smoking pipe in the distance, there was a patrolling guard with a gun, secretly looking at him.

These people are the ones who maintain order in the East District black market.

John suddenly remembered:
After shopping around this morning, he felt that the black market was quite safe, so how come he was attacked at the entrance of the underground passage last time?
What were these guys doing at that time...

Could it be that they set a trap for themselves? What is their purpose?

While thinking, John pulled his hand out of his work jacket and waved and smiled at the guy who was peeking at him from a distance.

The other party immediately stood up, put out his cigarette, turned around and left.

John decided to approach it in a different way.

He drove the Jurassic ZT15 to the dismantling yard that was built on the ground of the East District black market and bought the highest-priced bullet repair package, intending to test whether they were honest.

(End of this chapter)