Carrying several bags, he walked toward the southern part of Watson District. As he walked, he checked vehicle prices in his head and ended up stumbling across an ad.
"Do you want to roam the stars? Do you want to stand on the moon? Now you do not need ten million or one million. With just two hundred fifty thousand Eurodollars, your dream can come true."
A trip to the moon?
These days, even moon travel was that easy?
He felt a bit tempted. Carl had always liked the idea of the stars, and under the moon tour ad listing a three day, two night trip for two hundred fifty thousand, he also saw the cost for settling there.
All the fees and paperwork added up to five million Eurodollars. That did not even include buying a house on the moon.
Curious about lunar housing prices, Carl looked it up and saw related figures on channel fifty four news in Night City. "Immigrant housing costs one hundred million Eurodollar per unit. While the price is high, it is nothing compared to your safety."
One hundred million.
He did the math and realized he would need to take two thousand jobs like Blanca's Contract to earn that much. If ten people died per job, that would be twenty thousand deaths, and even all of Maelstrom would not be enough. With that kind of effort, he might as well have a chat with a corporate executive instead.
Luckily, he had no plans to settle on the moon. Going there for a visit, though, might be worth trying someday.
In the end, it was all the same. Looking at the examples the news used to promote so called safe and legal immigration, he saw companies luring people to the moon to work themselves to death. Corporations were the same everywhere, and that would never change.
Whether bound by Earth's gravity or floating freely among the stars, people were still blinded by neon lights brighter than the sun.
As he left the northern Industrial District of Watson District and saw more and more billboards, Carl thought about it and decided to try steak tonight. Worm steak might really have six times the protein of real beef.
Aside from the two Saratoga SMG made by Militech, he sold all the other guns. With that money, the commission, and the loose cash he had picked up, his account was closing in on a height it had never reached before, nearly sixty thousand.
He planned to toss a submachine gun to Jack Welles later and then see what implants they wanted, paying up front if needed. Feeling noticeably richer, he walked into a street side restaurant and ordered something he had never tried before, a ribeye steak that cost a full twenty Eurodollars.
Two minutes later, the worm synthesized steak was served. A synthetic bone made of hydroxyapatite was stuck into the meat as decoration, and it looked surprisingly convincing.
At least in appearance, it was about eighty percent similar to real rib steak he had eaten before. He wondered what it would taste like.
A few seconds later, after cutting off a soft piece of "beef" and chewing it, Carl's face twisted. Damn it, this money was completely wasted.
"Bang bang bang."
"Coming, coming. Who is it."
Not long after finishing dinner with his sister and returning to rest in his apartment, Oliver had not even sat down when someone knocked on his door. With a bit of complaint, he first connected to the room camera to look outside, and after confirming who it was, he quickly walked over and opened the door.
"Carl? Why do you look so beat up?"
"I took a private job, that Corpo Rats Contract from before. Made some money, so I bought stuff to celebrate. I already messaged Jack Welles, he will be here soon."
Carrying several large bags, Carl walked into Oliver's room. After setting down the bags full of food and drinks, he took out a piece of meat and handed it over. "Here, have some steak first."
"I just ate not long ago, and you are stuffing steak into me. Wait, you said you took that Corpo Rats private job. Why didn't you tell me or Jack Welles?"
After taking the steak, Oliver realized it a moment later. "If something comes up, you just run off solo to do a job. You are way too eager."
"That is true, but the client required only one person. Negotiation stuff, you know. I went to act as a bodyguard."
"Bodyguard?"
Oliver looked him over a few times and did not see any injuries. "Looks like the negotiation went well."
"It really did go well."
Carl thought about it and felt that was accurate. The client had no objections, the other side had no objections, and nobody complained, so it counted as smooth.
"Turn on the TV. Let me see what people in the districts got up to today."
"What could be happening."
Even though using the home TV cost extra Eurodollar, Oliver was not stingy with money when a friend wanted to watch. He connected his device and turned it on, and while saying he had just eaten, his mouth honestly bit into the packaged steak in his hand.
"Mmm, this taste and texture. Ribeye, right? This stuff costs twenty Eurodollars a piece. I usually don't eat this."
"Exactly, so don't waste it."
"Of course I won't waste it. But it is only one piece, my stomach can still hold"
Halfway through, Oliver glanced at the steak and noticed clear cut marks at the corner.
"Wait, Carl, when you say don't waste it"
He instantly remembered the struggle he and Jack Welles had last time at the Japanese Restaurant dealing with food that Carl took one bite of and then ignored.
"You didn't order everything all over again, did you?"
In disbelief, Oliver looked at the pile of bags Carl had set down and felt his mind wobble.
"No. Only this steak felt like it couldn't be wasted. The rest is all newly ordered. Don't worry, most of what I bought is snacks. I will eat chips and stuff. There are plenty of chocolate bars too, but they are all cocoa butter substitutes. I couldn't find real cocoa butter ones."
"Then I'm relieved."
Oliver finished the steak in a few bites, and Jack Welles arrived as well. On the way, he stopped by the Wild Wolf Bar and brought back Mrs. Welles's fried French Fries.
"Oh, my favorite."
Watching Carl, whose love for his mom's cooking clearly surpassed his own, cheerfully grab a huge bag of French Fries and sit on the sofa to eat, Jack Welles smiled. He found a spot on the sofa and sat down, but immediately felt something hard under him. Looking down, he realized he had sat on a compact submachine gun.
"Dios mío, Saratoga SMG. Carl, where did you get this?"
"Picked it up after dealing with a few Maelstrom guys on the way. This one is for you."
"This is a small but powerful beauty."
Jack Welles examined the SMG with clear affection, then like Oliver, he reacted a beat late to what Carl had said.
"You said you dealt with what, on the way?"
With no choice, Carl explained to Jack Welles the same way he had explained it earlier.
"That same client again?"
Jack Welles pulled the bolt, listening to the crisp sound with clear enjoyment. "Then it really is worth celebrating properly tonight."
"My room is big enough to sleep all of us. Eat and drink as much as you want. If it's not enough, there's a vending machine here to buy more. I only have wraps and stuff though, and the meat inside is probably not something Carl would like."
As Oliver spoke, he noticed the TV screen playing routine news suddenly change to a new feed.
"Hello everyone, welcome to Channel 54 emergency news. I'm host Gillian Jordan. About half an hour ago, an incident broke out in Watson District's Kabuki. A cyberpsycho carried out a massacre inside a restaurant. The exact death toll is still unclear. The anti terror mobile unit has already been dispatched to suppress the situation. Residents of Watson District, Kabuki, and nearby areas are advised to stay indoors and wait for the situation to be resolved."
"Cyberpsycho?"