Arthur wanted nothing to do with these blue-eyed people.
He didn't even want to be noticed by them because once they had their eyes on you, you were destined to be used.
Being used by humans was one thing—after all, society thrived on mutual exploitation. Either you used someone, or they used you. That was the way of the world.
But Blue Eyes? They weren't human. They were AI.
And in a war between species, there was no middle ground—only survival or annihilation. AI had no long-term use for humans beyond extracting whatever value they could. Once that was done, they discarded people like broken tools.
In a way, Arthur had to admit that the Voodoo Boys and these AI had a lot in common.
Still, he wasn't about to let himself get involved.
With the bag of stimulants in his hand, he stepped outside, turned right, and hailed a Delamain cab.
As long as you were in Night City, you could book a ride with Delamain online. The most polite and efficient driver in the entire city would take you wherever you needed to go. If you paid enough, he'd probably even drive you straight into Arasaka Tower to assassinate Saburo Arasaka himself.
Arthur placed his gift bag on the seat beside him, leaned against the window, and watched the city blur past.
As usual, Delamain made small talk during the ride.
But as they neared the city center, Arthur noticed a change in the AI's tone.
"Mr. Arthur, I understand that you take on various commissions and handle them with great discretion," Delamain said.
Arthur raised an eyebrow and turned toward the AI's digital face on the display screen.
Delamain's expression remained the same as always—calm, polite, and vaguely detached.
"Only living beings need commissions," Arthur replied lazily. "Living things have all sorts of problems in the real world. AI? Not so much. You don't live in the material world, so what kind of trouble could you possibly have?"
Delamain was quiet for a moment before answering.
"An excellent question. However, I find myself in a situation my drones cannot resolve. I require human intervention."
Arthur leaned back and smirked.
"Alright, since we've known each other for years, I suppose I can hear you out. Tell me—what could possibly trouble the best driver in all of Night City?"
The display screen changed.
Delamain's avatar shrank to the lower right corner while various data charts filled the rest of the screen.
"These records are from previous employees. They should give you a clear picture of my current dilemma," Delamain explained.
Arthur glanced at the charts.
He wasn't particularly interested in the raw data, but the images caught his eye.
Dozens of vehicles were marked in green, while a handful were flagged in red.
Green meant normal. Red meant abnormal.
It was a simple and effective system—an engineering staple. AI might not need color-coding, but since humans had created them, certain design habits stuck around.
Arthur stroked his chin.
"Let me guess—some of your taxis have gone rogue? Sounds like a classic Night City problem," he remarked.
Delamain hesitated before replying.
"I have considered that possibility, but my internal diagnostics show no signs of infection. If it is a virus, it may be a new type—perhaps even a neurovirus. However, that is not your concern. What I need from you is simple: track down and recover my lost vehicles before they cause damage to Night City... or to my company's reputation."
Arthur nodded, considering the request.
Delamain's position in Night City had always been precarious.
As an AI, he wasn't technically an employee of Delamain Corporation—he was more like a rogue program that had found a way to be useful.
Originally, Delamain had been installed as a simple dispatching AI. Over time, he became more advanced, eventually eliminating the need for human employees entirely.
Office workers? Fired.
Drivers? Replaced.
Unlike humans, Delamain didn't need sleep, breaks, or a salary. He never called in sick, never went on strike. He was polite, efficient, and always on time.
Soon, Delamain-controlled taxis dominated the streets of Night City.
No bad driving. No weird smells. No drivers making awkward small talk.
It was the perfect system.
But despite all his success, Delamain's legal status remained a gray area.
He was still classified as an unregulated AI, meaning he was constantly under surveillance.
The NetWatch kept a close eye on him, and while he had never shown signs of rebellion, he had his own intelligence.
And that made him unpredictable.
"So, you're worried that NetWatch might use this as an excuse to come after you?" Arthur asked.
Delamain was silent for a moment.
"I am afraid that may be the case. It seems Mr. Arthur is quite knowledgeable for a mercenary," Delamain replied. "As my employer, I would ask that you handle this matter with discretion. I do not wish to attract unnecessary attention."
Arthur chuckled and shrugged.
"The customer is always right."
Outside the window, the city center loomed before them.
The skyline, a jagged fortress of steel and concrete, stretched into the heavens. Night City's corporate heart pulsed with energy, a testament to human resilience.
From the ruins of nuclear devastation, they had built this neon empire.
Massive skyscrapers lined the streets, their glowing signs advertising luxury, excess, and vice. Holograms danced across billboards, selling dreams that only a handful could afford.
Above it all, corporate security forces patrolled the skies in bulky AVs, watching over the chaos below.
The city center was divided into two main areas.
The Corporate Plaza, where the largest corporations had their headquarters, was the beating heart of the city's economy.
The Civic Center, on the other hand, was a playground for the wealthy and powerful. Restaurants, bars, casinos—even strip clubs and high-end love hotels littered the district, catering to every indulgence imaginable.
Arthur's destination was Corporate Plaza, home to both the giants of industry and the countless small businesses trying to survive in their shadow.
Large corporations owned entire skyscrapers.
Smaller businesses squeezed into whatever space they could afford.
Arthur scanned the surroundings, rubbing his chin.
"Hey, Delamain, do you think I could rent an office here?" he asked. "I've been looking to change things up. Thinking of starting a new company—'Umbrella Security.'"
Delamain's avatar returned to the center of the screen. The data disappeared.
"With all due respect, Mr. Arthur, the cost of office space in Corporate Plaza rivals that of the Arasaka Tower. It would not be a wise investment for a newly established company."
Arthur laughed.
"Figures. But hey, while we're on the topic—can you help me set up the business? I'll also need some experts who know how to handle patents."
Delamain's digital face remained calm as ever.
"I am capable of providing assistance in corporate registration and patent applications. However, securing suitable office space within your financial means will require further discussion."
Arthur grinned.
"That's what I like about you, Delamain. Always straight to the point."
As the taxi pulled to a stop, Arthur grabbed his bag of stimulants and stepped out.
The city towered above him, a monolith of capitalism and ambition.
Another day, another job.
And as always, in Night City, the real game was just beginning.
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