ALL NOVEL Good Morning
14 years later
8:30 AM, June 12, 2069 Night City
[BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP]
[GOOD MORNING NIGHT CITY! Yesterday's body-count lottery rounded out to a solid and sturdy 22, half in Heywood courtesy of the Valentinos and Maelstrom. You know my advice for anything Night City related: GET OUT OF HERE, HAHAHA! Why are you living in a city with No Future? For those of you still out there, I have something special for you today. The first track uploaded to his Cybertube account, the mysterious soloist who has driven music lovers crazy. They say his name is a tribute, others say it's a joke, but nobody knows. I present to you "Dream On" by JACKIE BLACKHAND. Hope you like it, and if not... fuck you.]
Jackie Blackhand - Dream On
Every time that I look in the mirror ♪
All these parts on my body become heavier ♪
The past is gone ♪
It went by like dusk to dawn ♪
Isn't that the way? ♪
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay ♪
I know nobody knows ♪
Where it comes and where it goes ♪
I know it's everybody's sin ♪
You got to lose to know how to win ♪
Half my life's in books' written pages ♪
Lived and learned from fools and from sages ♪
You know it's true ♪
All the things come back to you ♪
Sing with me, sing for the year ♪
Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear ♪
Sing with me, if it's just for today ♪
Maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away ♪
Sing with me, sing for the year ♪
Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear ♪
Sing with me, if it's just for today ♪
Maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away ♪
Dream on, dream on, dream on ♪
Dream until your dreams come true ♪
Dream on, dream on, dream on, dream on ♪
And dream until your dreams come true ♪
Dream on, dream on, dream on, dream on, dream on ♪
Dream on, dream on, dream on, dream on ♪
"TODAY IS GOING TO BE A GOOD DAY!"
I thought excitedly about the plans I had for the day as I woke up. With the alarm I had set, the radio turned on, and I could hear my updated version of the Aerosmith song that I uploaded two years ago on my Cybertube account. I did it because I had a guitar and a mic, and because most songs were lost when the new network was created, locking the old one behind the 'Blackwall'. Many of the bands from my old life didn't exist in this world.
Truth be told, I didn't care. More songs for me to play. "HEHEHEHE," I laughed as I got up from my bed, making Eco, my dog, rise from his. He looked at me expectantly, ready to start a new day.
"Good morning, puppy. Today is going to be a great day. Today we are finally going to move that beauty. I hope it works today," I said to Eco, who gazed at me with his camera-like eyes.
While searching for clean clothes in my somewhat messy room, I carefully looked at the floor to avoid stepping on any screws, microconductors, processors, or other small pieces scattered around. I had already stepped on some, and they hurt more than my memories from when I was seven years old, still healthy, and stepped on a Lego piece. Robotics is a new hobby I have in this world; I love building my own things, like helmets, weapons, and small non-explosive grenades. Grandfather Musashi forbade the explosives after my room exploded a little when I was 11 years old.
I've been living my new life for 14 years now, and I can only say that I couldn't be happier. This world sucks; it's scary, people die for nothing, the world is polluted, 77% of animal species have been lost, and the social imbalance is abysmal—much worse than in my old life. But despite all these things, I am happy. Every day, I hear the strong beating of my heart, reminding me of the joy of being alive and healthy. I have a strong body that even scares me sometimes.
I have two grandparents who take care of me and teach me everything, from martial arts and discipline—although when Grandpa starts talking like Yoda, I just tune out—to cooking and the traditional Japanese way of etiquette from Grandma Aoi. I don't like it, but she gets so happy when I do it with her, I just can't resist.
I can also get back to playing the guitar, which I missed so much. I've even uploaded many songs to the net. Although I'm a little embarrassed—WHAT embarrassment! People loved the songs I uploaded. I didn't hold back; I uploaded everything from classics like Aerosmith, AC/DC, Guns N' Roses, Black Sabbath, and Led Zeppelin, to songs I liked from The Weeknd, Foo Fighters, Blink-182, Sum 41, Johnny Cash, Queen, and of course, Daft Punk.
With that repertoire of artists, it's no surprise that I became famous. Well, Jackie Blackhand became famous. My real name and face remain a mystery. I jokingly called myself that name for Johnny Silverhand, adding "Black" as a tribute to my favorite character in the cyberpunk universe, Morgan Blackhand—the best solo merc in the world and one of the best shooters alive. Or so I hope he is still alive; there's no info about him in the game.
When I chose that name, I didn't think much. I never imagined that I would become so famous that my songs would reach the radio. Speaking of Johnny, my supposed father, nobody told me. It was only necessary to look at myself in the mirror when I was 10 years old. I was like a mini-Keanu, before I had my suspicions, with my face with Asian features, it seemed familiar when I saw it in the reflection. But it wasn't until I was 10 that my mind clicked! And I realized. I was surprised. In the game or lore of the cyberpunk universe, no son of Johnny is named, but when I looked in the mirror, it was undeniable. Although I didn't understand how I was born when Johnny died 50 years ago! When I asked Grandpa about my parents, he said nothing, just a sentence:
"I'm sorry, Sora, but that's not for me to tell you."
It wasn't until I uploaded the videos to the net that I gained what you could call a fan. That fan was special. They wrote private messages to my Cybertube account. That's how we communicated.
In their first messages, they asked me things that left me puzzled. They asked, "What happened to you, to sing with so much pain, anger, or sadness, and sometimes great joy, that you showed when you sang? You shouldn't have to be like that."
When I read that message, I was surprised at how perceptive this person was. When I sing some songs, it makes me navigate through my memories to bring out that emotion in the song I sing. In "Dream On," at first, I sang it with hate, resentment, and sadness, remembering that hospital room. But it changed when I got to the verse, "dream on, dream until your dreams come true." At that part, I changed completely, remembering the joy of living my second life.
As for "it wouldn't have to be," I asked. They didn't answer but wrote:
"I can't tell you... but I want you to know that you made me cry with your songs. You remind me a lot of him."
Him? Who were they talking about? When I wrote back:
"hahaha thanks for the comparison. I hope he is one of the good ones."
Without paying much attention to "him," I thought they were referring to another singer, maybe Kerry Eurodyne? Until they clarified with one sentence:
"You take after your father."
When I read that, I froze. How did this mysterious person know who I am and who my father is? He died almost 50 years ago. "How?" I asked without an answer.
Although they didn't answer personal questions, there was something that made me want to continue conversing with this mysterious person, knowing that they knew who my father was. From the things they had said, I came to an assumption about who this person was—or rather, the woman who wrote me messages on my Cybertube account.
Over time, she became my confidant, my counselor who gave me another point of view on my problems, and sometimes my mentor, teaching me things I didn't know. At a certain point, she even became my benefactor, like when I mentioned wanting to buy a better guitar and the next day had four different styles in front of my house. She became someone very special.
Back to Jackie, I had no manager nor did I want one. I had no record label nor did I want one. I just uploaded the songs I remembered to the net, to the YouTube of this world, Cybertube. I have to say that in this world, they love the word Cyber. The site pays me for the plays on their platform, and I let my songs free to the popular domain—they weren't mine, after all—so everyone can use them for whatever they want, even the radios. But I made it clear that I wouldn't let my songs be used by corporations for their commercials or shitty products. That decision earned me a lot of fame. By releasing my songs but not letting corporations play them, people fell in love with the idea that I wasn't looking for money, only interested in the music and that people enjoyed it. This began to change the perception of my name from a joke to a tribute to a certain maverick singer with a silver arm who also didn't like corporations.
After dressing in some black Converse with a futuristic touch, a pair of beige knee-length tight pants that then flared out to the waist, and a black t-shirt with a blue circular symbol, I wore a replica of a leather band jacket from an old rock band—without any markings on the back.
I left my room, going down the stairs of my two-story house, an apartment in the center of Night City. The house was neither too luxurious nor too cheap as it was in a relatively safe area. The walls were exposed brick, including the second floor where the rooms were. There was a small terrace that Grandma Aoi had transformed into a small garden with plants and grassy ground, turning a cold Night City terrace into a small green haven.
On the first floor was the kitchen next to the living room and dining room, all in a large room with one wall being large windows that reached the ceiling, allowing you to see the city. There was also a large adjoining room with security, where my grandfather kept his weapons and where I trained.
As I was running down the stairs, my grandfather, who was reading what I think is a newspaper on a pad, looked up. Apparently, he didn't like reading holographically because, according to him, he looked like a fool staring at the air.
"Hey, Sora, don't go downstairs so fast. Rushing is not a good companion. Being in a hurry leads to rushing, rushing leads to making mistakes, and making mistakes can lead to death," he said in Japanese.
There's my favorite Asian Yoda. I can say that because I am Asian too. My grandfather, Musashi Hatake, also known as "Ojīsan," is a monster at 84 years old who seems to be in his 60s. He has a tall figure that gives the vibe of an ancient samurai. He even abides by the code of Bushido, which he tried to instill in me with blows, because I refused to follow that old-fashioned and boring creed. We always spoke Japanese at home.
"Oji, don't be like that. I'm in a hurry because today is the big day. We are finally going to move the truck."
"Sora, don't call me Oji. Where are your manners? Besides, I don't want you to cause a scene that brings the NCPD or the FDNC, like your curiosity when you decided WITHOUT CONSULTATION to dismantle a grenade that I DID NOT GIVE YOU, blowing up a part of the house."
"AAH! Oji, don't be like that. About the grenade, I found it. How else could I have gotten it? You know I am a saint, a noble warrior who follows the noble path of Bushido. I can't associate with shady people who would sell A GRENADE IN BAD CONDITION to a child," I said, to which my grandfather growled at my joke about me following the way of the samurai. HAHAHA, ME a noble warrior who sacrifices himself for his lord, don't make me laugh. With all I have suffered, I don't sacrifice myself for anyone, I thought.
"Musashi, stop trying to instill your beliefs in little Sora. Let him find his own way. Here, Sora, I have prepared food for you. It also has something for you to eat breakfast while you're on your way to your friend Judy's house. I also made some food for her," Grandma Aoi said.
"THANKS! You are the best, Aoi-obasan. Thank you so much for the food," I said as I took the small backpack my grandmother gave me, filled with food, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She just smiled warmly. How can I describe this beautiful old lady who takes care of me and supports me unconditionally, who has suffered as a mother the worst one can endure three times, and yet did not close her heart? Of my new life, Aoi-Obasan is an inspiration to me, and I love her for it.
As I was about to walk out the door, Grandpa said, "Didn't you forget something?"
I turned around, acting surprised, as I closed one eye, stroked my long hair from behind with one hand, and smiled jokingly at Grandpa. "OI, Ojīsan, don't tell me you want a kiss too. These lips are sealed only for beautiful ladies, hehe."
Noticing a vein swelling with my joke, he threw something shaped like a black stick that I caught in my hand. When I examined it, it looked like a tanto but with hardly any tsuba, the piece that separates the blade from the handle and protects the hand from the hilt.
Knowing it was this 40 cm sheathed tanto, I unsheathed it. It had a black blade without an edge, which disappointed me a little. Then I ran my finger along the mark on the hilt and...
PSSSHS!
With a sound close to a hiss, the blade extended to a 75 cm long black blade without an edge. It seemed the blade was made of segments that were magnetically joined, giving it a touch of a cutter in the joints, resembling the sword from an anime that killed titans.
I compressed the blade again, put it back in its sheath, and attached it with the sheath fasteners to my belt at the back of my hip.
I stared at my grandfather, who had already lowered his gaze back to his reading. I walked over and gave him a hug to the old-tsundere. I knew he wanted it too.
Without waiting for any reaction from the two of them, I ran out and grabbed an 80 cm board next to the door, leaving the house with Eco following me.