Leo knew there was no turning back the clock—and no cure-all for regrets.
Over the past few days, he had read more research and documents about cyberpsychosis, deepening his understanding. One striking observation was that nearly all victims were rank-and-file cybermercs or low-level corporate security guards. Meanwhile, top-tier enforcers, like Arasaka Saburo's personal bodyguard Goro Takemura or Hanako Arasaka's retainer Oda Sandayu, had complete, high-grade cybernetic bodies without any signs of cyberpsychosis. They didn't even display early symptoms.
Why? A former Zeta Tech researcher provided one explanation: cyberpsychosis was more a byproduct of modern lifestyles and societal pressures than purely a side effect of prosthetics. Yes, cybernetic implants could affect brain chemistry, but they were just catalysts. The real culprit was how people lived in a heavily dehumanized world. Machines and AI were everywhere, and even loved ones replaced faces with metal plating. Some individuals lost their connection to humanity, slipping into isolation, distrust, and fear. They lost empathy, and their suppressed anger or paranoia twisted into violent outbursts.
Most terrifying of all, many cases went undiagnosed because not everyone with cyberpsychosis turned into a rampaging ex-soldier loaded with Sandevistan reflex tech. Some had only a single implant—maybe a new knee or a cyber-liver—and lived quietly, shutting out friends, family, and the outside world. In the end, their isolation and mental collapse were no less tragic. They just never made the news.
Put simply: too much stress, too little relief. Minds snapped under the weight, pushing people to blame society or humanity as a whole for their suffering, until extremism became the final step.
However, this still was just one of many plausible explanations.
"By the way, Rebecca, do you know any reliable ripperdocs?" Leo asked.
Rebecca shook her head. Her brother, Pilar, was a halfway decent tech, but installing new implants was way beyond his skills. Some general upkeep was fine, but a full cyberware operation was out of his league.
"So, how do you normally upgrade your implants?" Leo pressed, curious.
Rebecca tilted her head and launched into an explanation. "Either we salvage them from dead bodies as loot, or we buy them through Faraday—you know, fixers can get you anything if you have the money."
She continued, "As for the surgery, we could go to a legit hospital, but it's too expensive. Besides, hospital docs ask a million questions, run a pile of tests, and in the end, probably say you're unfit for surgery until you improve your physical condition. It's frustrating."
She clenched her fists, cheeks puffing in anger. "And even if we do pass all that, we can't afford them anyway. So we usually go to underground clinics—you've seen them, right? Places with those pink neon signs that look like they belong to, uh, certain other businesses."
Lucy instinctively touched the back of her neck. She recalled her own brushes with shady medics back when she was on the run from Arasaka. If not for her skill and luck, she'd have ended up dead more than once.
Leo asked, "Aren't you worried about black-market docs?"
"Of course. That's why whenever Maine goes in for an upgrade, Dorio tags along," Rebecca said, flexing an arm that had little muscle to show. "Dorio's ex-Animals. With her build, any sleazy doc would think twice."
Leo nodded. "But half the ripperdocs in Night City don't even have a medical license. They're basically amateurs. Surviving under their knife is mostly luck."
Rebecca's face fell. "We know. But what choice do we have? We're just regular folks in Night City. There are thousands of merc teams like ours—and very few top-tier docs like Vik Vektor. We're not always that lucky."
Leo could see where she was coming from. He patted his chest. "Listen, if you trust me, I can introduce you to a real pro."
"You know a reliable ripperdoc?" Rebecca's eyes lit up. "If you say he's good, I believe you—but, um…how good are we talking?"
Leo laughed. "First you say you trust me, then you doubt me right away?" He teasingly ruffled her hair. Strangely enough, she didn't protest—she had begun to accept his "head pats" as oddly comforting.
"Don't worry," he assured her. "Vik is the best ripperdoc in Night City. I'm serious. He's no back-alley quack—he studied in Japan, top-notch credentials."
Back when Leo had hung around Vik's place, he'd scanned the clinic with his tactical visor and discovered a certificate in a desk drawer indicating the doc had done advanced medical training at Tokyo University's affiliated hospital. Leo asked Vik about it once, but Vik had only smiled, saying it was ancient history.
"Anyway," Leo went on, "if your team ever needs firearms—kinetic, tech, or smart—I can hook you up. I can make kinetic and tech guns myself, as long as I have enough materials. My costs are pretty negligible, so I can let them go cheaper than random street dealers selling who-knows-how-many-hand gear."
He paused. "If you want smart weapons, I can still help. I'll just order them through a fixer. The difference is that I can offer you a payment plan. Faraday and other fixers deal in strict full payment, but with me, you can do installments. Or even run a tab if you're strapped for cash."
That way, Maine and his crew wouldn't have to risk high-stakes jobs just to afford new cyberware or gear—nor would they keep throwing themselves into lethal missions, feeling forced to upgrade their bodies faster than they could handle. Leo liked Maine's group. They were rough around the edges, but they had heart and looked out for each other. He didn't want them to burn out and dissolve, or worse, end up like so many short-lived merc teams in Night City.
Maine's current breakneck upgrade schedule practically courted cyberpsychosis.
…
After chatting with Rebecca a while longer, El Capitán's people finally arrived. They picked up Juliet, along with the data he wanted. The next day, Leo got a call from Rebecca. She told him that Maine and Dorio had reviewed the footage of Rose's final breakdown. Watching Rose—a normal person who had gradually become a cyberpsycho—pushed Juliet to the brink and nearly killed her. It left Maine in a long, pensive silence.
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