2. Here I Come

Upon discovering that in the year 2075, he only needed to install a translator module to gain a special ability, Karl felt a surge of excitement. He had already prepared himself to face this chaotic world naked and innocent, but now he realized he was metaphorically wearing a pair of underwear—an unexpected comfort.

He wasn’t one to indulge in the “Water of Life” and lose his senses; naturally, he felt more at ease with that little protection.

Having adjusted his mood, Karl pondered what he should do next.

After a brief moment of thought, he found his answer.

First, he needed to secure a place to stay and enough food to stave off hunger for a few meals… Also, he needed some sort of mobile communicator. He wasn’t sure if, besides installing and connecting cybernetic prosthetics, ordinary phones were still sold in this world.

Karl had no intention of relying solely on his flesh and blood to compete with machines. If he could install prosthetics, he certainly would—though he imagined such high-tech gear would be prohibitively expensive. Perhaps older models might be more affordable?

Then again, maybe antiquated technology was pricier due to rarity.

While his thoughts churned, Karl returned to the young man who had earlier stumbled while urinating, now slumped weakly on the ground.

Karl noticed the youth’s green mohawk and iron plates affixed to his cheeks, appearing about twenty-five or twenty-six years old. A pistol lay near his hand.

“Military... Lexington.”

Hmm?

Karl felt as if he recognized something about the pistol, but it slipped away upon a glance.

Curious, he focused intently on the weapon. To his surprise, words appeared before his eyes—words he could understand.

[Military Technology M-10 AF Lexington]: Military-grade, a compact and practical kinetic pistol with low recoil, suitable for subduing targets.

Ah, it seemed his special ability was more than a mere translator; it could interpret even weapons.

Would it work on people?

With that thought, Karl looked at the green-mohawked youth, and the same kind of text appeared before him.

[Insufficient Data]

Insufficient data?

Why insufficient data? Was there a difference between people and weapons?

As he pondered, a sudden insight flashed through Karl’s mind—he suddenly understood why.

To verify his theory, he observed other passersby. For each person, the words read “Insufficient Data,” while some of the weapons they carried could be identified, and others also displayed “Insufficient Data.”

“So that’s it.”

Karl realized his special ability wasn’t simply a translator. It was a summary and explanation of his memories. He had previously seen those characters and heard those terms, and his ability simply extracted the meaning of those words and phrases buried deep in his mind, translating them for him.

He knew this because he recalled having seen a pre-release game briefing describing the Lexington pistol, and the description matched perfectly what he now saw.

In a way, it was an automatic, photographic memory-assisted recall.

A remarkable power—its function surpassing that of a simple translator.

Karl stared at the Lexington pistol, then glanced at the fallen green-mohawked youth again. After some thought, he chose not to pick up the weapon.

Not because of any lofty moral standards, but because the youth’s body was still trembling.

What if he suddenly snapped awake and reflexively grabbed the gun to shoot him?

“Better to consider other options…”

Just as Karl thought this, the trembling ceased, and the words before him changed.

[Deceased. Cause of Death: Drug Overdose.]

…

Karl scanned the nearby area. This spot beside the apartment’s garbage heap was mostly deserted. In other words,

“Usually, the dead take precedence, but for me now, the living matter most. Sorry for the disturbance.”

He picked up the pistol from the ground. As the green-mohawked youth’s body stopped trembling, a few colorful bills slipped from his pocket.

[Euros]

“You’re still quite generous.”

After pocketing a total of two hundred and thirty euros, Karl saluted the youth in tribute and turned to leave.

He had committed the youth’s face to memory—a chaotic debt he would not forget.

“If you have any family, once I gain the means to find them, I will repay your kindness.”

Karl was no paragon of virtue; he simply believed that favors must be returned and grudges avenged—even if, in truth, this was an act of theft.

Tucking the Lexington beneath his black coat, Karl headed toward the elevator. For now, he would take things step by step—first, to find a place that sold phones or similar devices. Even in this future world, monks would need a receiver to accept offerings.

Entering the noisy elevator, filled with blaring advertisements, Karl pressed the down button. As the elevator descended, flickers of light filtered through its worn doors, casting a hazy, ethereal glow upon his face.

“Boom.”

With the creaks and groans of aging machinery, the elevator doors slid open. Karl stepped out of the towering skyscraper.

What greeted his eyes was light.

Brilliant, multicolored light illuminating towering buildings and bustling crowds.

Night City, nestled in the Free State of Northern California on the Del Coronado Bay of the U.S. West Coast, was known by many names: City of Dreams, Crime Capital. But as Karl beheld the real Night City, his first impression was something utterly incongruous and almost laughable.

The City of Light.

A metropolis awash with radiance.

Too dazzling—almost blinding.

Karl gazed at the city and smiled softly.

But whether City of Dreams, Crime Capital, City of Light, or Night City—it no longer mattered.

Because he was now truly here, he existed within this city.

In short, I have arrived.

Karl closed his eyes to the sky, then lowered his gaze to the street once more.

I, Karl, have arrived!