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Cyberpsychiatric Records
"Sure enough, it's this type!"
Karl happily took the cyberpsycho brain dance wreath, banned in Night City, back to his room.
He had been eagerly anticipating this moment ever since purchasing the brain dance wreath from the shop. Though he had heard of its existence before, he hadn't expected to actually find it.
The brain dance wreath that intrigued Karl was naturally the cyberpsycho variety—anything else, like an erotic brain dance, would have been laughable. In 2075, erotic brain dances were commonplace and not considered taboo. Any street vendor could provide them, and unless they involved extreme violence, they weren't banned. Karl wasn't interested in that sort of content.
What was the point of an erotic brain dance compared to experiencing the combat methods of cyberpsychos?
Only those who couldn't handle their prosthetic enhancements went insane, but true cyberpsychos—those who were officially reported by the NCPD—were individuals of exceptional strength, often too formidable for regular NCPD officers to handle. These were the ones Karl was interested in learning from.
What could he gain this time? Would it be the fighting instinct born of life-and-death struggles or combat experience ingrained in muscle memory? He was genuinely excited to find out.
Compared to the typical brain dance wreath that cost 50 euros, this officially banned cyberpsycho brain dance wreath was significantly more expensive. Karl only bought two, spending 510 euros, nearly five times the usual price.
"The seventh and sixteenth episodes of Edgewalker... They're not consecutive, and I don't know how many episodes this series has," Karl noted as he examined the numbers on the packaging. He also noticed a few letters in the corner, likely the producer's initials.
Brain dance editor?
Karl didn't rush to insert the wreath into his player. First, he checked both wreaths on his computer using his hacking knowledge to ensure there were no viruses or surveillance embedded in them. Once confirmed, he connected them.
It was crucial to be cautious with such irregular content to avoid any hidden dangers.
When entering a brain dance in a fully awake state, one often experienced dizziness afterward, so Karl settled into a comfortable position on the sofa before activating the brain dance. As the connection engaged, a subtle light flickered in his visual nerves.
Brain dances simulate and connect all human perceptions, making the experience as immersive as if living the recorder's life. In Night City, some brain dances were so realistic that viewers would forget who they were, much like the story of dreaming of a butterfly. The line between dream and reality blurred.
Karl—or rather, the recorder—opened his eyes.
The smell of dust in the air was strikingly vivid, unfiltered by any processing.
Karl assessed the body he inhabited, finding it much stronger than his own.
Is the prosthetic arm a Gorilla Arm?
Gorilla Arm: A robust prosthetic that grants the user gorilla-like strength, favored by dock workers.
Karl recalled the description but found the comparison to actual gorillas misleading, as few had seen real gorillas. In his view, the strength of Gorilla Arms surpassed that of real gorillas.
Feeling the Gorilla Arm, Karl estimated it to be less powerful than his current strength.
Unlike others who watched brain dances for the fluid experience, Karl preferred analyzing every detail, frequently pausing and rewinding. Unfortunately, this brain dance, edited for a first-person perspective, lacked the comprehensive view of initial recordings.
He wondered if a customized version might be available in the future.
Continuing the playback...
The recorder, panting, raised a gun.
Pause.
Is that prosthetic an intelligent connection model, compatible with smart weapons?
Then the gun must be...
An Intelligent Weapon Shingen?
Karl suspected the identity of the cyberpsycho in this recording and resumed the playback, eager for confirmation.
Amidst heavy breathing, the recorder surveyed the surroundings. They were on the fifth floor of an abandoned building, alongside two others equipped with Shingen weapons and matching outfits. A rocket launcher lay nearby.
Damn.
The scene was too familiar. Before the recorder could focus on the gun, Karl observed the environment.
They were in an abandoned apartment, under a mechanical ceiling light.
Now Karl was certain.
He even recognized who the cyberpsycho was in this recording—not the recorder, but the person they faced.
Everything that followed was painfully familiar to Karl.
The rocket launcher fired, explosions erupted, and Shingen bullets rained. Then...
"Someone's onto me!"
"Impossible..."
Speeding up the playback...
Boom!
In the grenade's flames, the recorder's pain surged through Karl, followed by numbness in the right hand. The explosion had torn it off, and then the devil— the cyberpsycho—approached.
Though the recorder couldn't see the cyberpsycho's face clearly, Karl heard the words.
"The positions are too close. If we die, we die together."
The voice was too familiar, unsettling Karl.
"Only three? Less than I expected."
A gunshot, and the connection severed.
"Damn it!"
Karl ripped off the brain dance wreath and cursed.
"I'm normal, talking normally! How can I be a cyberpsycho?"
Karl never anticipated that the cyberpsycho in the sixteenth episode of Edgewalker would turn out to be himself.
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