Cyberpunk: Night City Shop - Chapter 10: Viktor Vektor (Patreon)

For a Ripperdoc's clinic converted from an old basement, the room was surprisingly spacious. Cyberware and medical equipment stood neatly arranged along the walls, with a pale blue surgical chair in the center. Trays of operating instruments flanked it, alongside medical computers and monitors. Unlike most clinics, where everything seemed to give off a cold light, a band of red neon made this place feel strangely warm.

Under a web of cables and pipes, wooden shelves built into the walls held trophies of different sizes. Sports posters hung nearby, looking out of place among the precise metal instruments. A faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the air, but compared with Night City's atmosphere outside, it was almost refreshing.

Dr. Viktor Vektor sat beside the trophies. A screen on the long desk in front of him showed a recording of a boxing match from some long-forgotten year.

“A new customer? Haven't seen you before.”

Viktor looked away from the match. “What can I do for you? Looking to get some cyberware installed, or do you need a doctor?”

“Not sure yet. I wanted your advice.”

John hadn't decided whether he wanted cyberware, let alone which implants he should get. Since arriving in Night City, he'd developed a nagging fear of being underarmed. In a place where tomorrow wasn't guaranteed, all it would take was a stray bullet while walking down the street to put an end to him.

But he had serious reservations about implants. First, he was afraid of pain. He'd never even undergone minor surgery. The thought of having part of his own body cut away and replaced with metal made his skin crawl. Second, he worried about cyberpsychosis. He wasn't V, who could replace half his body with cybernetics and turn himself into a walking Transformer without any apparent consequences. If John went cyberpsycho and attracted MaxTac, there wouldn't be anywhere left to run.

He'd finally decided to ask a professional. And if there was one person he could trust not to rip him off, it was Viktor.

“Here's the situation. I only just arrived in Night City, and this place seems pretty dangerous. I've been thinking about getting some cyberware to protect myself. But I've never had any implants before, so I thought I'd get a doctor's opinion first.”

“Never had cyberware? Not even a neural interface?”

Viktor was visibly surprised. He stood and looked John up and down. “Now that's unusual. These days, kids get neural interfaces before they even learn to read. Didn't think there were still people walking around completely organic. Doesn't that make everyday life inconvenient?”

John patted his pocket. “Not really. I use a phone. Works fine for me.”

“A phone? Old-fashioned, but practical.”

Viktor nodded and walked over to the surgical chair. “Let's start with a full-body examination. Come on, have a seat and relax. This part's free.”

John sat down, resting his back against a cool cushion wrapped in medical-grade polymer. Several data cables ran out from under the worn metal armrest to his left and connected to a nearby computer.

He remembered V sitting in this very chair for his first cyberware installation, receiving Kiroshi Optics from Vik. He'd never expected to end up here himself.

Viktor fetched a small white device from the back of the clinic, secured it to the chair's right armrest, and connected it to the medical computer with a cable.

“Without a neural interface, we'll have to use this. P-MRI M4 Hummingbird. Portable MRI scanner. It's last-generation equipment I bought when I first got into this line of work. Thought I'd never need it again, so it's a good thing I didn't sell it.”

He swung a large display in front of John and sat down at a smaller monitor.

“We're going to start the scan. You can see your physical condition here, along with the cyberware that's compatible with your body.”

A low hum filled the room. The display changed and a stream of numbers appeared. It showed John's vital signs, organs, and various other readings. He couldn't make much sense of it, but almost every indicator was green, which seemed reassuring.

“Hmm. A little wear in the joints and spine, but nothing serious. Overall, you're in excellent health.”

Viktor continued, “According to the scan, you shouldn't have any significant rejection problems with most types of cyberware.”

John nodded. Apparently crossing into another world hadn't done any damage to his body.

“Good to hear. So what would you recommend I install?”

“Depends on what you need. A mercenary might want combat implants. A Netrunner needs an operating system. Technicians usually go for precision cybernetic hands. But what exactly are you hoping to accomplish?”

Viktor paused, then added, “And you're really willing to trust a Ripperdoc you've only just met?”

“Of course. I've heard you're the best Ripperdoc in Night City.”

John smiled. Anyone who'd played Cyberpunk 2077 knew that if there was one person in the city worth trusting completely, it was Viktor.

“Mostly, I'm worried about staying alive. With Night City's crime rate, it's hard not to be nervous. I'm not a merc or a gang member, but I could still end up caught in a shootout. Bullets don't care who you are. I figured I might as well get something that could stop them. Metal should protect me better than flesh, right? Something like Subdermal Armor.”

“Just for personal safety?”

Viktor looked strangely surprised. “You're the first person I've met who wanted Subdermal Armor purely as a precaution. Unfortunately, what you're imagining isn't really possible.”

“Huh? Why? Isn't Subdermal Armor supposed to stop bullets?”

“It is, but it's designed for mercenaries who've already undergone extensive modification.”

Viktor shook his head and explained. “Installing cyberware isn't as simple as removing an organ and replacing it with a metal one. Even before cyberware, when people transplanted natural organs from one person to another, rejection was a problem. The body's resistance to metal is even stronger.

“Cutting off a leg and fitting a set of Lynx Paws isn't the same thing as a pirate strapping a wooden peg to a stump.”

He tapped his monitor a few times. A scan of a brain appeared on John's screen, with one area highlighted in red.

“Cyberware connects directly to your brain through your nerves. That's why a neural interface has to come before every other implant. Its operating system is like a grandmother telling a child a bedtime story, soothing the brain and convincing it that the metal leg has always belonged there.

“But the brain isn't that easy to fool. Even with a neural interface and suppressants, you'll feel something wrong in everyday life. It's a little like the phantom limb experienced by people who've lost a hand. Somewhere in the back of your mind, your brain will keep insisting that the metal isn't your leg. It's something foreign.”

“I get it. Cyberware might work just like the original body part, but the brain still instinctively resists it.” John considered the explanation. “Is that why people develop cyberpsychosis?”

“More precisely, cyberpsychosis is a psychological condition caused mainly by internal and external pressures. But yes, cyberware modification is an important factor too. Otherwise we wouldn't call it cyberpsychosis.”

Cold surgical light reflected off Viktor's sunglasses.

“Have you heard of the Ship of Theseus? It's an old philosophical problem. When a ship is repaired, its parts are replaced one by one. After every original piece has been replaced, is it still the same ship?

“The question applies to people too. If every part of your flesh-and-blood body is replaced with metal, are you still yourself? Maybe your will is strong enough to convince you that you are. But your biological instincts may have a different answer.”

“I understand. That's why I'm not planning to get a lot of implants.”

Seeing how serious Viktor was, John felt he should clarify. “I only want Subdermal Armor. It's not like I'm getting a Sandevistan.”

“That's the problem. For someone getting their first implant, Subdermal Armor isn't any easier to live with than a Sandevistan.”

Viktor explained patiently. “It's fundamentally different from most cyberware. Think about Lynx Paws, Gorilla Arms, or a Sandevistan. You remove a part of the body and replace it with something else. But Subdermal Armor doesn't replace tissue. It goes directly beneath your skin. You're essentially stuffing a sheet of steel between your skin and your muscles.

“With an ordinary replacement implant, the neural interface can persuade your brain that it's a natural part of your body. It can't do that with Subdermal Armor. The material continually stimulates your nerves, reminding your brain every second of every day that there's something under your skin. It's a horrible sensation.”

John pictured steel plates implanted beneath the skin across his entire body and shuddered.

“That's why I only recommend Subdermal Armor to people who've already had extensive modifications,” Viktor went on, adjusting his sunglasses. “For someone completely organic, it's like inserting plates between skin and muscle. But if your body is already mostly cyberware, you're only adding another layer of metal to something that's metal already. It doesn't cause nearly as much strain.”

“All right. I understand.”

John nodded, disappointed. “Guess I'll just have to watch my back.”

Then Viktor seemed to think of something. He folded his arms and asked, “If you're only worried about everyday safety, why not buy a bulletproof vest instead of installing Subdermal Armor?”

“Hmm... what?”

It took John a second to realize how obvious the answer was. Of course! He didn't need to put armor inside his body when he could simply wear protection over it.

He'd learned everything he knew about Night City through a video game, so his first reaction to danger had been to look for cyberware. He hadn't even considered a perfectly ordinary solution.

“Damn. You're right.” He felt foolish for overlooking something so simple. “Got a vest you'd recommend, Vik?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Viktor rose, went to a storage cabinet at the back of the clinic, and returned with a bag.

“Bought this a few years ago. Meant to give it to an old friend. He was like you, barely any cyberware anywhere on his body. Never got the chance to give it to him, though.”

He opened the bag and took out a black, full-body suit.

“AS-M3 full-body ballistic suit. Made from rapid-setting, multiphase composite fibers. Soft and flexible enough to wear directly against your skin. It'll stop nearly every small-caliber round. Thin ceramic-composite plates cover vital areas like the chest, helping stop some larger rounds and absorbing most of the impact so your organs aren't damaged. Try it on and see how it fits.”

John accepted the suit and hesitated. “Uh... is there a changing room?”

Viktor laughed. “You're as old-fashioned in your thinking as you are in your body. Like someone from fifty years ago.”

He returned to his chair and resumed watching the boxing match. “This is a clinic, not a clothing store. Change in that dark corner at the back.”

A little embarrassed, John went to the rear of the room, took off his clothes, and pulled on the suit. The stretchy material seemed able to adjust itself to his shape, settling cool and snug against his skin.

“Hey, that fits pretty well.”

He put his T-shirt and jacket back on. You could barely tell he was wearing anything extra.

“I'll take it, Vik. How much?”

“Two thousand.” Viktor held up two fingers. “It's been buried in storage for years anyway. Not many people besides you would want something like this.”

John was almost certain the high-tech protective suit was worth far more than two thousand eurodollars. Still, he wasn't about to refuse Viktor's generosity. He took out his phone and transferred the money.

“Thanks for your business.”

Viktor gave him an OK sign to show he'd received it. “If you change your mind and decide you want other cyberware, feel free to come back. Personally, though, I think you're better off avoiding implants if you can. You're not a mercenary who makes his living fighting.”

John couldn't help laughing. “Vik, aren't you supposed to be a Ripperdoc? Why are you talking yourself out of business?”

“Work's just work.” Viktor didn't seem to find anything strange about it. “Life and health aren't things you can put a price on.”

“All right. Thanks again.”

John left the clinic and returned to his car. Next, he'd try his luck at El Coyote Cojo in Heywood and see whether he could find Jackie there.

...

Note: I'm aware that Neuroport is the specific term used in Cyberpunk's 2070s setting, while Neural Link is more familiar from earlier lore. I've chosen neural interface as a broader, more accessible term. When referring to specific technology or implants, I'll use the appropriate canonical terminology.