CYBERPUNK: Travel to 2075

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Escaped Cyberpsychopath

"This is one thousand and fifteen eurodollars, in addition to the deposit we already split."

Of the 6,000 eurodollars they earned, each person could receive a total of 2,000. While this was more than what most workers in Night City made in a month, it wasn't much for mercenaries like Karl, Oliver, and Jack.

After picking up some drinks and hot food on the way back, the three returned to Oliver's room to continue their dinner party, which had been interrupted earlier.

"I've done a lot today, and I'm exhausted. I really don't know how those corpo dogs, working twenty hours a day, keep going."

Dealing with both the Maelstrom gang and the Scavengers in one day had worn Karl out.

"I heard some corpos have parts of their brains removed and only need stimulants and other drugs to stay awake and work nonstop," Jack remarked, tossing a drink to Karl.

"Little Cocoa, love in my heart~"

"Ugh, don't gross me out. I hate this cola," Karl said, throwing the bottle back in disgust. His aim was off, and it hit Oliver in the head.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, sorry."

Karl's body hadn't undergone much modification yet, so fatigue made him clumsy. Compared to those with mechanical prosthetics, he couldn't keep up. Even factory workers, if they fell asleep, could rely on the chips in their heads and the prosthetics in their hands to keep working.

"What time is it?" Oliver asked, rubbing his head.

Jack, lounging on the sofa with a beer, glanced at the clock. "It's half past eight. Still early tonight. Want to watch a movie?"

He grabbed a skewer of chicken covered in sauce, shoving it into his mouth. Chewing the soft meat, he commented, "These chicken skewers taste surprisingly good. Gotta say, besides the ones in Japan Street, these are the best in the city."

"Authentic?" Karl looked skeptically at the skewer in Jack's hand. After a moment of hesitation, he took one, plucked a piece of meat with a toothpick, and put it in his mouth.

His face twisted in disgust.

"This doesn't taste remotely authentic, either in flavor or texture."

"Not everyone has eaten real chicken like you, Karl. Ninety-nine percent of people in Night City haven't tasted real meat in ages. So yeah, this is as 'authentic' as it gets for most folks."

Jack chewed the synthetic meat with ease, watching Karl struggle to swallow his piece.

"You're used to eating real meat, Karl. Synthetic food probably tastes awful to you now. Maybe we can hook you up with some smugglers from the Badlands and get you the real deal?"

"The price would be steep," Karl mused, nibbling on some fries. He was tempted but unsure.

"It's not too bad," Oliver said, leaning back. Born in Santo Domingo, near the Badlands, Oliver was familiar with smuggler markets. "A whole chicken costs around a thousand eurodollars, and a pig about five thousand. Of course, that's just the price for the meat. Add the smugglers' commission and transport fees, and even then, there's no guarantee the meat arrives fresh. But even if it's dead, they'll preserve it well enough."

"A thousand eurodollars for a chicken, five thousand for a pig…" Karl calculated in his head. "Seems doable."

He realized he didn't find the price too outrageous. A synthetic chicken meal in Night City cost around 18-20 eurodollars, so a fifty-fold markup for the real thing wasn't that shocking.

"It's fine for us, but regular folks couldn't afford that," Oliver explained. "A month's salary might get an average worker one real chicken, assuming they manage to navigate the checkpoints and smuggler fees. In the end, real meat costs well over a thousand eurodollars and might still be out of reach."

"Actually, pork's easier to get than chicken," Oliver continued. "Poultry is strictly controlled in Night City due to past bird flu outbreaks, and customs charges a fortune. If you really want real meat, I'd suggest going for pork."

"So how much would it cost for an entire pig?" Karl asked, intrigued. "Including the pig itself."

"About ten thousand eurodollars, for safe transport."

Ten thousand eurodollars... Karl had roughly 52,000 eurodollars saved up. The realization hit him—his hard-earned money could only buy him about five pigs. There weren't many clients like Blanca who paid so generously.

"That kind of money could get you a decent prosthetic body," Jack said, stunned by the cost.

"We're worth less than pigs when we swap out parts for prosthetics," Oliver remarked, biting into a burrito stuffed with synthetic meat. "So, Karl, want me to reach out to the Badlands contacts for you? If you get used to it, synthetic meat might seem like 'real' meat soon enough."

"Oliver, Jack, what about you? No interest in real meat?" Karl asked. As a mercenary, he couldn't skimp on good food, but he wanted to see if his friends would chip in.

"I grew up eating synthetic food made from bugs and locusts," Oliver shrugged. "I'm too used to it now. Honestly, if I had real meat, I probably wouldn't like it as much as you do. So, I'll pass."

Jack, however, was interested. "I'll get some too, Oliver. Could you bring back real corn or something? I'd love to try making tamales with real ingredients."

Tamales were a traditional Mexican dish, essential for celebrations like Day of the Dead, weddings, and birthdays. They were also one of Jack's favorites. Most tamales he ate were made from synthetic meat and corn flour, so he wasn't going to miss the chance to try the real thing.

"I'll contact the people over there later and let you know how much it'll cost."

Oliver glanced at the TV, where a breaking news report flashed across the screen. It was an update on the Kabuki Cyberpsychosis incident in the Watson District, the same one that had been on when they left earlier.

"Cyberpsycho missing before the arrival of the trauma unit. Citizens are advised to be cautious."

Karl and Jack turned to watch the broadcast.

"Missing?" Jack frowned. "How far is Kabuki from here?"

"About a thirty-minute walk," Karl replied. He knew the area well, having just walked back from the industrial zone near the Kabuki theater earlier today.

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