Time: 2077 / 4 / ■■■■ / ■■ [Encrypted]
Location: Cyberspace.
A world made of countless zeroes and ones—a virtual realm of data.
Shattered and chaotic.
Even after more than half a century since the age of the DataKrash, the Net remained broken, perhaps even more grotesque than before—divided by the man-made void chasm of data known as the [Blackwall], separating inside from out.
The space within the Wall was narrow; beyond it, vast.
At this moment, on the inner side of the [Blackwall], within the fragmented cyberspace divided into countless isolated subnets and local networks, a faint ripple began to spread across the Net domain belonging to Arasaka Tower of Night City.
As usual, the Old Net Restoration Division under Arasaka's Network Operations Department was conducting a deep-dive operation.
Beep—beep.
[Section Chief: Commencing extramural deep-dive operation.]
Glug~
The moment of connection sounded like bubbles rising through deep water. In the dead silence of the digital abyss, filled with unease, a tiny human consciousness drifted downward, sinking deeper and deeper into the void.
Following the routes Arasaka had long since established through repeated deep-dives along the [Blackwall], the elite netrunners of the Old Net Restoration Division successfully breached the Wall and entered the Old Net.
Soon, the avatars of the netrunners stabilized—manifesting as visible projections within Arasaka's extramural outpost.
"I've been assigned to sector A20-3."
"Sector A21-7."
"C14-6."
"Oh?"
At that, the waiting team members exchanged envious looks. "Lucky you."
"Yeah, lucky."
The speaker was a slender Latin woman with olive skin and short black hair. Her tone was both pleased and wary: "Luck's all it is. Let's hope I don't bump into a rogue AI gone berserk."
Sector C14-6 had once been managed by the Security Bureau's internal network safety division. Rumor had it that it was a deep-dive route once pioneered by Director Vela herself—a relatively safe zone among the Old Net territories Arasaka had explored and mapped.
But blessings and misfortunes came hand in hand. Opportunity always came with risk.
This sector had indeed been purged multiple times by someone using bait-trap operations, but it remained part of the Old Net—beyond the Wall—a cyber wasteland ruled by puppet viruses and feral AIs.
Like the wild zones outside the safe areas in a Sega-Atari RPG, rogue AIs could spawn at any time, occasionally even spawning a "field boss."
This meant that for those assigned to C14-6, fortune was fickle. Some lucked out, roaming freely and salvaging valuable data that boosted their quarterly ratings—promotions and bonuses followed. Others were not so lucky, struck down by a "hostile intelligence" drawn to the signal of its fallen kin, coming to hunt.
If they had a safety relay unit, maybe they'd make it back alive. If not—ding-dong, your order of medium-rare roasted primate brain is ready—crispy outside, tender within!
After several "mining squads" were wiped out in succession, the C14-6 gold rush of the Old Net Restoration Division burned out quickly.
After all, luck was everything. No matter how skilled you were, AIs didn't play fair.
The entry threshold for C14-6 was subsequently lowered—no longer a spot to pull strings for, but a standard random assignment. If someone wanted it through connections, they could have it.
Once a favored fishing ground of a certain someone—both before and after their rise to power—its advantages were still there, depending on what one sought.
This time, no one used connections.
By pure chance, the woman had drawn the lot.
Whether it was good fortune—or the beginning of bad luck—remained to be seen.
Before long, after exchanging brief farewells, the netrunners dispersed, each to their assigned zones.
"Whew..."
Steeling herself, the woman cautiously set out for sector C14-6.
The route, just as rumored, was surprisingly "clean."
Aside from leftover ICE fragments, virus-infected data nodes, and worthless code debris, the zone was far calmer compared to others—no rampant attack programs, no poisonous code traps, no rogue AIs blocking pathways. Truly, a much easier run.
Assuming she didn't encounter a hostile sentient AI.
The Latina netrunner advanced carefully through the labyrinthine ruins of the digital domain, scrutinizing every detail.
After some time, she halted—having set up enough ICE and confirmed no nearby rogue AIs. Her eyes fixed on an infected data node, its surface glowing an eerie crimson.
She was nearing the edge of the exploration zone.
Raising her gaze through the layered maze of code, she saw the far side—where scarlet data streams churned and tangled, a writhing wasteland of digital corruption, like the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse in data form.
Beyond that boundary lay a place she could not afford to tread.
Huff!
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand. Lines of binary lightning cracked across the node as a firewall was deployed. The hidden garbled data beneath it seemed to come alive, writhing violently as it compressed.
Further out, old Net fragments flickered, dragged into the process.
A low hum resonated as the broken subnet began to reboot.
Steady... Her expression tightened.
Connection established... scanning... filtering... pre-download sequence initiated—
[#□*Autonomous #□*Aerial System…]
A drone research project from before the Net's collapse?
A smile crept across the hacker's lips.
If she could stabilize the data and retrieve it, and if the information proved useful for Arasaka's new unmanned systems project, a promotion and pay raise were within reach.
Better yet—if the data was valuable enough to fulfill her [Hacker Development Contract] performance targets ahead of schedule, she could finally escape this hell of mandatory deep-dives into the Old Net. She could transfer to the Network Security Division—no more forced deep-sea missions.
Of course, advanced hackers sometimes volunteered for deep-dives, chasing the legends of the past—but that was different.
Now, focused and tense, she poured all her attention into the extraction process and the ICE warning nodes near the C14-6 boundary. She didn't notice the faint streams of black-and-red data slithering toward her from behind—like silent serpents.
They were [Blackwall] protocol data flows.
Zzzzzzt—!!
"AAAHHH—!"
Without warning, her entire visual interface went black and red. Binary code flooded her view, endless strings of 0s and 1s cascading like rain.
Damn it!
A rogue AI? No—her ICE wasn't reacting at all.
A superintelligent AI from the Old Net? Impossible. If it were, she'd already be shredded into pure code. Her safety relay should have triggered, pulling her consciousness back instantly. So why was she still frozen here?
Then... "NetWatch?"
Struggling to turn her mosaic-glitching avatar, she stared at the orderly black-red data streams coiling toward her.
"The [Blackwall] protocol?!"
"Sorry to disappoint," came a low, smoky female voice, smooth yet commanding. "But no, wrong guess. No penalty, though. Now, calm down, Miss Pauline."
Before she could react, Pauline's sensory feed was hijacked.
Through flickering static, a tall Asian woman appeared—rose-red center-parted hair, wearing a black uniform traced with red patterns, a jacket over it, and a tin badge gleaming on her chest.
"Who are you?" Pauline demanded, her fear barely concealed.
She wasn't stupid. In an instant, she could tell—the other woman's netrunning capability far surpassed hers.
"You can call me Songbird."
Song So Mi, appearing in her freshly sculpted avatar with a bit more "flesh content," spoke calmly. "As for who I am—you've already guessed. Let's just say I work at the White House. FIA agent."
"Songbird!" Pauline's expression twisted. "What, you trying to turn me? I'm not important enough to catch the White House's attention."
"You're right. You don't have that kind of value. And I'm no big shot either," Song replied plainly. "Just a caged bird doing the dirty work."
She was being perfectly honest.
"Don't waste your energy. Don't try to force a disconnect or trigger your relay—I'm contacting you using the [Blackwall] protocol. I've masked your transmission frequency through the Wall. Unless your processing power exceeds mine, you won't break my barrier. Now... calm enough to listen?"
"..." Pauline said nothing.
Song glanced at her, then continued, "I'll make this short. Time's running out. According to plan, I should've met with Vela Russell by now. I've been tracing her for days—drilling through the [Blackwall], watching from the outer Net. But she's been tied up with politics and research, rarely diving deep lately. No chance to make contact. With the Voodoo Boys meeting window approaching, I had no choice but to pick you. At least I know you're not an FIA plant—you're an Arasaka Academy graduate, part of her faction."
"What do you want, then?" Pauline finally asked. "Assassinate Director Vela?"
"I'm not that capable," Song replied evenly. "My goal? Defection."
"What?!" Pauline's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're kidding."
"Believe it or not, that's your call." Song remained calm. "I'm offering you a chance at fortune. Whether you take it or not—that's up to you. Do whatever it takes—report it to your superior, escalate it, send it anonymously—just make sure the message gets through, securely and as high up the chain as possible."
She leaned closer, her digital form flickering slightly.
"Just say this—Songbird defects."