Cyberpunk: 2075.

Chapter 930, Section 140: This is the right path.

"There's a room in my house that's constantly monitoring me!"

After being called upstairs by Carl, Jefferson Perales faced the surveillance room exposed to him, and his expression was quite interesting.

He had considered that he might be monitored, and he had also considered that the degree to which he was now under control was very deep, but he never expected that the other party would dare to set up a private monitoring room in his private residence, and that some of the monitors would even be facing his bed where he slept peacefully every night!

Isn't this equivalent to his nightly conversations with his wife and other private matters being completely exposed to others?
How is this any different from a clown on stage?

Although the politicians of Night City are essentially clowns on stage performing what they want people to see, knowing and not knowing are two completely different concepts.

"Was this room there when I first moved into this apartment?"

In his anger, Jefferson Peralez realized with horror that if this room was in the original design location, did that mean that even his move into this apartment was a scheme orchestrated by someone behind the scenes?

He didn't become a lawyer; he chose to go into politics. After working hard for a while and establishing himself, he moved into this apartment. In terms of time, it was about six years ago. In other words, did the other party start monitoring him six years ago?

Were all my choices planned out by the other party six years ago?
An indescribable sense of bewilderment washed over Jefferson Peralez. He was truly bewildered after realizing that he might have been under surveillance for as long as six years.

He can no longer distinguish how much of his thoughts are truly his own, how much of his thinking is genuine, or even which ideas truly belong to him.

My ideal of enabling children from poor families to receive an education and not have to worry about food and clothing is a false dream, or is it something instilled in me by others?
So what kind of person was I from the very beginning?
If all of this is a lie, then what were my original ideals? Would I be the complete opposite of who I am now?

Jefferson Perales sat on the sofa outside the monitoring room, holding his head in his hands. He was at a loss for what to do.

He didn't know which of his thoughts belonged to his original self, nor did he know what he should strive for; he couldn't distinguish anything anymore.

Carl chuckled as he looked at Jefferson, who was lost in self-doubt.

"I think you're overthinking it, Mr. Jefferson." Having seen through Jefferson's thoughts, he casually leaned against the monitoring console. "So what if you can't tell the difference? Does it really matter which one is your own thought?"

He looked at Jefferson: "You feel that this ideal may have been implanted, but so what? At least it made you do the right thing, and compared to those politicians who spout morality but exploit the common people, at least you genuinely want to help others."

“Correct,” Jefferson muttered to himself.

"That's right, correct."

Karl answered decisively: "I think it's right, no, I should say, there's no need to think it's right, it's just right."
Since when has wanting to help the poor become a weakness, and having good intentions become wrong? Isn't it natural and right to want to help others who are suffering? Do you really think it's wrong to have such thoughts?

“Listen, Mr. Jefferson,” Carl’s voice became unusually serious, “the origin of your ideals is not important; what matters is the methods you choose to follow.”

Carl said, “Mr. Jefferson, you could have gone along with the corrupt practices of other politicians, but you chose to speak out for the poor. You had the idea that you wanted the children of poor families to have a better life, and you had an almost idealistic idea. Isn’t that right? Is this right something that others have imposed on you?” Listening to Carl’s words, Jefferson-Perales fell into a long silence, and memories flooded back to him.

Wasn't his initial motivation for entering politics precisely what other politicians considered 'naive' and what companies saw as 'foolish'? For this belief that he himself firmly believed in, he rejected all corporate funding and insisted on running for mayor in a clean manner.

Now he realizes that he has unknowingly become someone else's puppet, and he is even unsure whether his original intention of persisting in this is truly his own. But even so, can he say that the ideal of 'helping others' is wrong?
No.

This is undoubtedly correct.

It's never wrong to lend a helping hand to those in need.

“I was confused for a moment.” Jefferson’s expression gradually relaxed. “I should have realized sooner that if the mastermind behind this really instilled in me the belief in helping others, then at least they are on the side of justice.”
But instead of doing that, they kept erasing my memories and trying to distort my nature. This precisely shows that even if they weren't a company, they were essentially the same kind of people as those companies.

Jefferson's gaze hardened again: "They want to turn me into a puppet like other politicians, to do things against their conscience, so they want to change me. If that's the case, then my current ideals and beliefs are absolutely correct."

This must be my true feeling. Even if it was initially a mistake they made when they distorted my image, this path must be the right one.

Jefferson's voice also became resolute: "And I am indeed on the right path."

"So, that's exactly why I'm here to help you."

Carl checked the wiring in the monitoring room and said, "At first, I didn't think there were any suitable people in the mayoral election worth my help, but now I've changed my mind."

Karl turned his head to look at Jefferson, and then at Jefferson Perales.

“Mr. Jefferson, would you be willing to accept sponsorship, not from the company, not from politics, but from me, from my KK sponsorship.”

"I don't think I have any reason to refuse."

Jefferson looked at Carl, at the young man who had dispelled all his confusion in a few words and dispelled his fear with his actions: "I am happy to accept your sponsorship, Mr. KK."

"It seems that I will really be able to control Night City from now on. I hope you won't mind if I arrange for people to help you later."

Carl made a joke, then turned his gaze back to a route.

He found the signal transmission line in the monitoring room.

(End of this chapter)