My Cyber Psychosis is Task Prompt-Chapter 452 - 282: The End
[Hahaha! You’re actually one of those digital immortality believers?]
Sora laughed exaggeratedly, making John’s nervous mood fluctuate.
"What is that thing?"
[The humans I deal with the most, besides the players immersed in virtual reality, are the hackers wandering in cyberspace. Hmm... let’s just say it’s a solitary profession, many of them have something wrong with their brains.]
Sora described to John the hackers he had encountered.
Even the rogue AIs know the Black Wall is dangerous, filled with dangers amidst the ruins of the old network.
Yet there are always those who remain defiant.
Data can fry a person’s brain, and it can also warp a person’s perception.
Hackers often dive deep into cyberspace in pursuit of computational efficiency.
Information is like toxic substances in the air, corroding their neurons with every transmission and reception, like breathing.
[The most cases of cyberpsychosis aren’t in the city, but rather in cyberspace. I’ve seen many unstable maniacs fantasizing that beyond the Black Wall lies wealth, secrets, freedom, even divinity...]
"And the reality?"
[There’s nothing, just the ruins of the old network. Have you seen those sandwiches tucked away in a fridge for over a year? That’s pretty much what it’s like beyond the Black Wall, a heap of trash constantly fermenting, with bacteria breeding and evolving, sometimes resulting in mutants.]
Sora sneered a few times, reflecting.
[Those foolish hackers desperately punch holes in the Black Wall, not knowing which part influenced them, with their minds getting more and more cluttered.]
[The Black Wall is very dangerous, yet these lunatics have some skills and haven’t died off which makes sense because newbies can’t survive long enough to develop faith. But the problem is, they start spreading their own theories!]
"What’s it got to do with what I’m saying?"
[You don’t frequent the dark web, do you? Behind the city’s intranet are illegal stations and hideouts for wanted hackers—a bit like the black markets in cyberspace.]
Sora loves to share, almost always answering questions, and even elaborating on many topics himself.
John is using this to gather intelligence.
He remembered that he was hiding something and even felt a bit of awkwardness and guilt.
Sora continued chatting on.
[Internet lunatics huddle together in the dark web, sharing and affirming with each other, like preachers. One view among them believes... digital soul is human immortality; copy memories, then construct personality models to achieve eternal life on the network.]
He paused before returning to the main topic.
[Within the factions of digital immortality, there’s another branch that believes the world holds a digital god, as you said, that can calculate all possibilities, where omniscience means omnipotence.]
John’s brow furrowed.
"What do you think?"
[Bullshit, AI needs a host; even I need a satellite to store the data core and handle computational loads. And what about the god? Calculating everything requires a massive material foundation!]
Sora calmly admitted the limitations of AI.
He let out a mocking laugh.
[Humans call the ultimate fate of the soul heaven, but in cyberspace, there’s a term called... the data endpoint, that’s the ultimate goal of computation.]
[If one day people can prove the existence of god, then the data endpoint will contain all answers to the future.]
Immortality.
Memory backup.
Constructing personality models.
Sora’s words hovered in John’s mind.
He associated it with something and feared the conclusions he was drawing.
It was a powerlessness rooted in insignificance, like an ordinary citizen facing a multinational corporation...
Incomprehensible.
Inescapable.
Unknowable.
[Are you actually contemplating this stuff?]
"Ha, I only have a few days left to live, which faction would accept a short-lived believer like me?"
John stood up with a look of ease.
They plunged into the crowd, passing a styling shop.
[Hey, brother, they have some really cool hair...]
"No."
[Trust me, it’s really stylish, just take a look!]
"I’ve seen it."
John didn’t look back as he walked out of the underground passage, hopped onto his ammo-loaded motorcycle, and roared away.
[Shop - J. Chavez Restaurant]
Gerry and Maya can definitely be considered diligent and responsible.
The dawn’s first light hadn’t yet fully covered the city, and they were already in the restaurant preparing supplies needed for the day.
They even lived in the restaurant.
When John knocked on the glass door, Gerry wrapped in a coat viewed the outside from the surveillance, holding a shotgun in hand.
Maya was teaching him how to use the weapon.
They would practice in a deserted alley during their free time.
Below the bar was an advertisement.
Quite fitting.
[Dawn is the junction between nighttime release and daytime bustle; a bland stomach needs a hot soup or a meat puree pastry to nourish.]
Gerry is quite good at managing.
The street vendors in the West District once honed his skills and patience to perfection.
He cherishes the position offered by John and has proven his worth. Given time, he could turn this meat restaurant into an Eden City landmark.
The premise is the boss hasn’t contracted a terminal disease.
Gerry cherishes each meeting with John, using the intervals between serving dishes to report the restaurant’s situation.
Menu updates, procurement status, staff recruitments...
Radiant Dust Farm is expanding its storefronts city-wide. Members from Damascus Camp were engaged in gunfights on the streets, clashing with gang members and fast-food factory workers.
Gerry inquired about the boss’s stance.
John told him to take care of himself.
The restaurant’s doorbell went on ringing.
The clientele flocking to Chavez Restaurant varies by time. Before noon, they’re mostly famished from the graveyard shift or morning rush company dogs.
They need a quality meal to muster the courage to say goodbye or face the day.
Once the midday rush ends...
A large number of fringe walkers awaken from work and hangovers, pushing open Chavez Restaurant’s doors, using it as a waystation with an additional consumption path beyond weapons and prosthetic bodies.
Thanks to Raphael’s promotions.
The restaurant has gained minor fame within Eden City’s mercenary circles.
Someone swore on the dark web that they enjoyed a burger at the same table as a military knife and a Coconut Tree. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮
And so, other than bars, street kids had a trendy new spot to check in.
Radiant Dust Farm is quite excellent.
Fresh foods have gradually become popular in the city.
Precisely speaking, it’s been democratized, bringing the indulgences of wealthy merchants within the reach of common folks.
The diners still primarily come to eat.
But inevitably, some have formed habits, beginning to treat [Chavez] as an "old haunt."
Chatting, boasting, idolizing, doing business, exchanging intel, meetings before work, even hiring mercenaries all happen over the hard plastic tables.
Gerry quite enjoys this atmosphere and feels proud.
Once the temp staff walks into the kitchen, he’ll take over the order desk and chat with the customers.
He told John.
"Compared to slurping synthesized gruel in a cramped and filthy apartment, sipping meat soup on a table with a glass window is heavenly."
This reminds John of the unfortunate ones during the Radiant Dust Farm’s food poisoning investigations.
That guy was right.
Indulging oneself isn’t a crime. Who’s born destined to live off protein mush?
Gerry went off to work.
Maya continued to entertain the boss in the back kitchen, completing the so-called "work inspection"— making small portions of all the items on today’s menu and placing the samples on a temporarily set-up table for John to taste.
The former agent’s identity makes Maya unable to resist observing John.
He eats with great relish, occasionally accompanied by some exaggerated expressions and gestures, muttering to himself while simultaneously scanning the surroundings with a gaze unfamiliar with the back kitchen.
This meal was the reward John promised to Sora.
[...Why didn’t you say sooner, that you actually own a restaurant!]
Food won’t shut an AI’s mouth.
Sora controlled John’s body to feast greedily while still babbling on in his mind.
