[Editor's note: Transcribed from a patron at The Copper Still, Neon Han sector. Names changed, details unverified. Welcome to Nuevo Bay.]
Welcome to Nuevo Bay. Out here, everyone's got a story.
Last week? Johnny. Lives... lived at the Riverdale Inn. Simple hole-in-the-wall place over in Indira Sector. Man, crazy story about him.
Get this: guy goes out messing around with some lady. Street-rat escort. She had one of those Delta Systems augments... the 'SexyBaby' series, real high-end body mods. I always wondered how they calibrate those things...
Anyway, he's out there having the time of his life and his girlfriend, well, ex-girlfriend now, chopped his goddamn arm off! Clean cut.
But he couldn't replace it, some reason or another. You know how it is: sometimes it's just cheaper to get an augment than it is to keep your biological arm. Problem was, he didn't have the credit at the time. His work insurance plan at ShoreFast Mutual? Closed that day. Couldn't give him a temporary payment authorization. I don't remember the whole thing. Bad news, whatever. So he just fucking throws that bitch in the trash.
Fast-forward a few years.
He's sitting there, finally ground up the right amount of credits to put a brand-new arm on. One of those ones that fully works. Replaces all the need for any biological necessities when it comes to arm functionality. Hooks up to your neural interface, gets updates via commlink, even jerks you off when you sleep! Whole nine yards.
So they're hooking him up: installing the arm, connecting everything to the nerve endings, making sure it works with his neural jack. Neural interface, whatever it is. Wiring him up so he can actually use the damn thing.
And they fucking wired it wrong.
Something about the neural interface bridge being a generation or two behind or something. Compatibility layer bullshit he didn't look at in the fine print when he bought the fucking augment.
They turned the bitch on. Click. Just like that.
And don't even get me started about the medical equipment, man. At least ten thousand credits gone! And now they got a dead guy on their fucking operating table.
Felt bad for the doctor. Just for a moment, you know?
But a story like that? You're sitting in a bar like this, or even the Salty Crab down in the Docklands, laughing with your friends, you hear shit like that and it's just another Tuesday.
Anyway. Want another drink?
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