Night City, 2070
Another war had ended with the signing of a peace treaty. Night City had become a free city, a battleground for corporate interests. Many companies eagerly returned, flooding the market with new technologies. In this chaos, crime reached new heights. No one could stop the rampaging gangs, and the streets fell under their complete control. The police had become little more than a minor inconvenience to these ruthless syndicates.
Militech, known for its cutting-edge military advancements, launched an ambitious new project called "Life After Death." Their philosophy was simple why worry about human resources when they could be made infinite?
For as long as humans had existed, they had sought to understand their own nature. What is the soul, the mind, consciousness? All research revolved around one goal unlocking the secrets of the human body and extending its lifespan. The "Life After Death" project aimed to preserve a deceased person's consciousness and resurrect them in a new body. Numerous attempts had been made, but most ended in failure. Subjects lost their sanity their minds, now reduced to mere lines of code, struggled to reconstruct a sense of self. The result? Fatal system errors and complete personality collapse.
Inside a lab surrounded by cold metal walls and flickering screens, Henry Baker, a leading specialist in neurotechnology, worked tirelessly. Militech had recruited him for one reason to create an immortal army that no corporation could ever stand against. At that moment, he was analyzing a newly retrieved brain sample.
"So, who's next?" he asked his assistant, a woman of Asian descent. Though she disliked working for him, she performed her duties diligently.
"Matthew Carrington. Former police detective. Died in 2030. His brain was preserved as a unique case," she replied. She had numerous cybernetic implants, each enhancing her ability to work with human tissue.
"Alright, launching the simulation," Henry said, monitoring the data stream.
POV: Matthew Carrington (formerly Maksim)
Loading...
Those words again. What do they mean?
Booting additional module...
Establishing persistent connection...
15... 56... 99... 100.
Initiating Program K3-8: "Life After Death."
Strange symbols swam before my eyes. Then, a sudden jolt.
A surge of emotions overwhelmed me. A jumble of unintelligible sounds filled my ears, as if someone was rummaging through my head, creating a cascade of unpleasant sensations. My body felt numb. I tried to open my eyes but nothing happened.
"Alright, seems like it's up and running. Let's test it. Matthew, can you hear me?" A voice rang out unnatural, synthetic.
I tried to respond, but no words came.
"Speech modules are still booting," another voice said softer, with a distinct Japanese accent. The sounds of that language were unmistakable. The voice was coming from a slight distance.
Wait... how do I recognize accents so well? The memories surfaced instantly years of detective work, noticing the smallest details. But my mind still felt cluttered, like two separate lives colliding.
Speech modules? What did that mean? Had I lost my voice? Had they implanted a synthetic one? I'd seen people undergo such procedures metallic devices grafted onto their throats to simulate speech.
"Alright, I see. Let's proceed. Brainwave activity is within normal parameters, no errors detected. The simulation is holding up well," the man said. Simulation? What the hell were they talking about?
"How well did the memory transfer go?"
"About 83% intact. Some of it was lost he was in cryostasis for too long," the woman answered.
"Not bad. We're making progress. Alright, the speech module is online now. Matthew, say something."
"Ch...ttt...aaasss mnnnn... oyyy..." I tried to speak, but the words came out distorted. My mouth didn't feel like mine. The sounds just spilled out on their own.
"Hmm. The decoding process is off. Hold on, fixing the error now," the man said.
Rebooting speech module... 12%... 54%... 100%...
More floating words. More nonsense I barely understood. I wanted to get up. Open my eyes. Look in a mirror. But I couldn't feel my body.
My memories blurred, like a half-forgotten dream. In my past life, I was Maksim... or was I Matthew? I couldn't tell anymore. A deep sense of loss and uncertainty clawed at me.
"Now everything should be fine. Try again," the man said.
"What's wrong with me? Am I paralyzed?" I asked. My voice sounded robotic, devoid of any emotion, even though I was overwhelmed with them.
"You could put it that way. Your condition fits the term," the man replied.
"Be straight with me. Why can't I open my eyes? Why can't I feel my body?" I demanded.
"Straight? Fine. You don't have a body. All that's left of you is your brain a brain that died a long time ago. Right now, you're nothing more than fragments of your memory," the doctor said.
"You're lying! That's impossible, it's absurd! Medicine isn't capable of this!" I spat out angrily, yet my voice remained eerily calm and monotone. There was nothing in my memory about such technologies. Not even in Matthew's more advanced world had anything like this existed.
"Increased risk of rejection. Mind rejection level at 10%," the Japanese woman reported.
"I was too blunt again. Let's break this down properly no need to panic. Then again, he shouldn't be able to feel emotions... so what's causing this, hmm?" the scientist muttered thoughtfully.
"The mind is trying to adapt using old principles, constructing new realities based on previous criteria," the Japanese woman suggested.
"That explanation is partially valid," the scientist acknowledged.
"What the hell are you talking about? Answer me, or you'll regret it you won't get away with just a broken tooth!" I growled.
"Ha! Amusing. Alright, listen up. It's the year 2070. You died in 2030. Science has advanced beyond imagination, and you've become part of our 'Life After Death' project. We reconstructed your consciousness from your brain," the scientist explained.
I took a few seconds to process his words, piecing together details from my awareness, the smallest sensations, the sounds, the text floating before me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he wasn't lying. And the more I realized it, the more I wanted to run to escape this reality. Had I died? Had they stitched someone else's memories onto my own?
"Mind rejection level at 47%," the assistant announced.
"Matthew, please calm down. The situation isn't as grim as it seems, I assure you," the scientist said.
His words only fueled my anger. I tried to do something anything but all I managed to produce were more robotic, distorted sounds.
I couldn't be just a goddamn brain in a jar. That wasn't possible.
"Mind rejection level at 61%," the Japanese woman warned.
"Alright, shut it down. We'll try a different approach," the scientist ordered.
My thoughts grew sluggish. I didn't want to think at all.
Something was pulling me away.
What was happening?
End POV
"Yeah, this is tough. I'm no psychologist I'm bad at handling cognitive responses. Any suggestions?" Henry asked his assistant.
"First, introduce yourself. Knowing a name will create a more comfortable environment. Establish a positive setting tell him he's part of a life-saving program, that we managed to restore him. And give him a purpose," Masashi, the Japanese assistant, suggested.
"Alright, let's try that. Reduce his emotional module to about 45 percent, then gradually raise it to seventy as we talk," Henry agreed.
"I thought we wanted to preserve as much humanity as possible?" Masashi asked doubtfully.
"Yeah, I know, I know. But a colder thought process will help him accept the situation more easily," Henry admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Launching," Masashi said, her fingers hovering over the holographic display.
"Go ahead. And wait erase the last saved logs from his memory. We'll start over from scratch," Henry ordered with a wave of his hand.
POV: Matthew Carrington
Loading...
Booting additional module...
Establishing persistent connection...
15... 56... 99... 100.
Initiating Program K3-8: "Life After Death."
Strange symbols swam before my eyes. Then, a sudden jolt.
A surge of emotions overwhelmed me. A jumble of unintelligible sounds filled my ears, as if someone was rummaging through my head, creating a cascade of unpleasant sensations. My body felt numb. I tried to open my eyes but nothing happened.
"Can you hear me, Matthew? I am Dr. Henry Baker, the leading scientist in the field of robotics and human brain research. You have been enrolled in the Life Preservation Program. We managed to restore your brain. Could you try saying something?" came an unfamiliar voice.
Matthew… or was I Max?
"What's wrong with me?" I asked. This man he was probably the doctor. I needed to remember. Did I die in a fire in my room? Or was it the explosion in front of the checkpoint? My name lingered on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to say that my name was Max, that I was just a student. But every memory in my mind insisted I was Matthew Carrington, a detective.
"You suffered severe injuries and died in 2030. Today is September 2070. Medicine has advanced significantly, and we were able to save you," Henry explained.
"I see. What's my condition?" I asked, clinging to the hope that my body wasn't completely ruined. Even though I couldn't feel it, I still had hope.
"You lost your entire body. Right now, we are in the process of fully replacing all your limbs with robotic ones," Henry stated. His words cut deep into my mind. What did he mean by "completely lost my body"?
"I don't understand," I admitted. Not only did I fail to grasp my current state, but I also couldn't comprehend how I had been revived fifty years after my death. I knew that cryocapsules existed wealthy people had used them to freeze themselves, hoping to awaken in the future when medicine could prolong their lives.
"It's difficult to accept, but this is the reality. We brought you back, and only you can decide what happens next," the doctor said.
"Live as a robot? Feel nothing, experience nothing? That's worse than death," I muttered. I had no intention of living like that.
"Oh, not at all. Technology has advanced far beyond imagination. There are countless augmentations that allow you to experience taste, touch, and even pleasure in a fully realistic way," Henry assured me.
I fell silent, deep in thought. If that was true, maybe my situation wasn't entirely hopeless. But I still saw no reason to live. I was out of my time. My family where were they? They were surely long gone. With the pollution levels these days, I doubted they had survived another fifty years. Maybe I had grandchildren somewhere, but what use would they have for a useless old man?
No. First, I needed to figure out who I was before thinking about family.
"You could continue working in law enforcement. Trust me, your skills would be invaluable. This city is full of unsolved cases. You could be a tremendous asset," Henry suggested.
His words ignited a surge of anger within me.
The police? Work for the authorities again? Struggle against a system that didn't care? Watch my efforts amount to nothing? No. Not again.
"Mind rejection level at 48%," a familiar voice with a Japanese accent announced.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce you. This is my assistant, Masashi. If you don't want to work in the police force, we can find something else for you," Henry said.
"No. Just shut me down. I want to die again," I said, wishing for an end to all of this.
"I'm sorry, but we can't do that. A great deal of resources went into your restoration, and we expect to get some return on that investment," Henry stated.
That's when I understood.
What life preservation program? That was all nonsense.
They were just another group of insane bastards using people for their own benefit. It wouldn't even surprise me if I wasn't legally considered human anymore if I had no rights. The perfect slave.
"Mind rejection level at 72%," Masashi announced.
"Shut him down. I don't get it," Henry muttered.
My thoughts grew heavy. I didn't want to think anymore.
Something was pulling me downward.
What was happening?
End POV
"So, what went wrong?" Henry asked.
"It seems he didn't like your comments about the police or the fact that we wouldn't shut him down," Masashi replied.
"Pffft, alright. Let's try again. Do we have anything that could help?" he asked, already at a loss for what to do.
"We could alter some of his memories implant patriotic sentiments, or give him a strong drive to bring criminals to justice because of some past tragedy," Masashi suggested.
"Yes, perfect. Do whatever you think is necessary," Henry agreed.
Masashi nodded, though inwardly she thought Henry was almost completely useless when it came to working with the human brain. But his skills in robotics were unmatched.
She finished strengthening the patient's emotional connection to memories of his father memories that would give him a greater sense of purpose in fighting crime. She also softened the negative aspects of his past, just a little.
"Done," she said.
"Excellent. Start K3-8," Henry ordered.
Once again, Matthew Carrington was waking up. Beside the operating table stood a module containing the full volume of his brain's memory. Technology had advanced to astonishing levels data storage systems could now hold an immense amount of information. The same Braindance technology, which recreated emotions and memories with perfect accuracy, was being used here to transfer entire personalities.
And once again, the conversation began almost identically.
POV: Matthew Carrington
"You can continue working in law enforcement. Believe me, your skills will be in high demand. There are so many unsolved cases. Crime hasn't decreased one bit, and only you can put a stop to it," the doctor said.
This news stirred mixed emotions within me. Something inside resisted, yet I had dedicated my life to fighting crime to cleansing the world of evil. For my father, I had to continue my mission.
"I'll think about it. I need time to come to terms with myself," I said.
"Of course. If you need anything, just say the word," the doctor replied.
"By the way, when will I be able to move?" I asked.
"We need to request a body from our Militech superiors, process some paperwork, and then you'll be able to start your new life," Henry answered.
"Understood," I said.
The entire situation felt strange and unnatural. I struggled to feel like myself. My mind was a tangled mess I remembered the life of Max, the student, yet right now, I felt like Matthew. Every time I tried to recall something, I hit an impenetrable wall. My old memories had always lingered at the edges of my consciousness, like echoes of the past. Now, whenever I reached for them, I found only emptiness.
Life would never be the same for me. I was nothing more than a shadow of a man, a mere imitation of the person I once was. If Henry was telling the truth and it really was the year 2070, how was I supposed to accept that? What reason did I even have to go on? My time had ended long ago.
Before, my purpose was clear catch criminals, build a family, ensure a future. Now, all that remained was the job. Cold. Soulless. Just like the world around me.
"I'll leave you to think things over, but be aware that we'll have to shut you down for the night put you into a kind of artificial sleep," Henry informed me.
I heard his footsteps fading away, and it seemed they had truly left.
All that remained for me now was to accept my new existence.
I sat in the darkness, fully aware that my old life was gone forever.
The weight of these thoughts pressed down on me.
There was so much to consider about this "Life After Death" project.
What kind of name was that, anyway?
Maybe I really had been lucky maybe they had brought me back.
But for what purpose?