Chapter Text
Night City, 2073.
Night City had for plague crimes, poverty, but mainly loneliness and despair. This duo was everywhere, from the homeless beggars in the dirty streets to the decrepit apartments of Watson, to the Charter Hill apartments. No one could avoid it, not even the netrunners, the former nomads, even less when they are both in one. Lying on the floor, Virgile stared at the ceiling with watery blue eyes, his hand over his heart, hoping it would stop, in vain. This was his ritual when he felt terrible, which was almost every day, and it grew worse with time and bad news. This loneliness locked him in an infernal and destructive spiral.
Running his hands up to wipe away his tears, Virgile sat up and looked around. Nothing had changed, that horrible Charter Hill apartment still despised him, screaming that he wasn't home. Nothing in the luxurious wood, those soft sofas and those ugly artworks belonged to him; he had just been thrown in. Where were the tents, the makeshift beds, and the sand all around? After five years away from his roots, the ex-nomad couldn't forget and loved his new life. However, he liked Night City, and had learned to love its huge buildings, this life day and night, this incessant noise. He hated the circumstances of his arrival, being indebted to a corpo, and feeling torn from his life. And today, he could no longer move forward, the despair dragged him into the abyss of a black and sad world where he couldn't see the light anymore.
Talk, to confide without fault, that is what he needed.
He got up with effort and wandered with his crumpled shirt open and in his underpants in this apartment so hated, then stopped in front of a mirror. He was a sight to behold, the dragged features, the empty blue eyes, and the dishevelled shirt.
A shower, you need it, asshole.
Feeling the water on his skin, eyes closed, he enjoyed one of the only pleasures he could afford within these walls. So a hot shower to relax and chase away his dark thoughts for a moment was a luxury he didn't refuse. The idea of talking to someone convinced him to go out, to put on a clean white shirt and a business suit, to comb his blue hair so that it would stop being messy, and to show himself decent. Virgile looked for his sunglasses to hide his reddened eyes and left for the garage, where his car was waiting.
The Clouds. The only place where anything could happen without anyone knowing about it. His curiosity had pushed him to come there once, to understand, and he had come out with a mix of embarrassment and surprise, to the point of coming back. So he entered for the third time, still as uncomfortable as ever, even though he knew why he was there. No sex, no sordid fantasies, just to have someone to talk to, to unpack everything without judgment, to receive some comfort and ease his pain.
You're pathetic, man.
The receptionist waited wisely for a customer to arrive and smiled at him with all the courtesy in the world, impeccable from her bun to the end of her manicured nails.
"Welcome to the Clouds. Where we know what you're looking for." Her voice was steady, her gaze frank, perfect for the reception.
"Hello," he replied in an unsure voice, before removing his sunglasses with a trembling hand.
"Do you know how Clouds works?" He nodded positively, almost guiltily, but she remained professional. "Would you care to jack into the terminal?"
He barely listened to the standard instructions, answering with another mechanical nod, wondering which doll would be compatible with a human waste like him. No one could predict how a session at Clouds would go; that was part of the game. The only real unknown was his personal connection and data. As a netrunner, Virgile knew the flaws in this kind of system, but he accepted it anyway; he suspected that the Tyger Claws were guarding the information. He gasped at the receptionist's voice, she asked him for a security password, and he pinched himself discreetly to remain attentive.
"I ask you a brief moment." A screen appeared before his optics with the Clouds logo. "I'm scanning your personal profile. You should see compatible dolls soon."
Pictures of men and women appeared with names that looked more like pseudonyms like Mistral, Divine, Diamond, Honey ... The list spread out before gradually narrowing, and some dolls disappeared. This moment of suspense sets the tone for future events. In the end, four dolls remained on the list, Virgile didn't expect that many. He could have chosen at random, but one face stuck out. A woman with a long blue bob, a magnetic and attractive look and a simple name, Evelyn. Her.
"I wouldn't have made a better choice. Evelyn is a popular doll, she is hardly available." Perhaps her luck turned? "Once payment is made, you can relax at the bar. We'll let you know when the session can begin. I hope you have a great evening at Clouds."
If he wasn't allowed to drink according to his contract, Virgile didn't mind a glass of bourbon to relax. His jaw contracted, his hands slightly shaking, and his head drooping. Everything exuded nervousness about him, the impression of doing something wrong followed him all the way to the booth.
A starlit sky covered the entire room, similar to the desert nights. Because of the lights and pollution, no stars appeared above Night City, how sad! Then he saw her. There she was, sitting cross-legged on her chair, waiting for him, with a little smile and a cigarette between her fingers.
"Good evening Virgile, I'm Evelyn. Come here, don't be shy."
This distinguished accent, this soft and sensual voice, bewitched him immediately, and he felt intimidated, unable to move. This woman exuded confidence and class, seemed inaccessible and yet within reach. She invited him to join her with a sweeping gesture, Virgile rubbed his neck back and finally made his way to the bed, where he sat down facing her. Evelyn took one last drag and handed it to him.
"You need it." Touching her fingers, Virgile took the cigarette and put it in his mouth. He savoured it with his eyes closed as the smoke drifted out. "They don't want you to smoke, but who are they to forbid the small pleasures of life?"
"No smoking or drinking, drugs, caffeine, junk food, motorcycles and most importantly, no thrills. I just have the right to work and keep my mouth shut. After all, that's what I signed up for, right?"
Bitter, his disgusted face reflected everything he thought of his current employer, his fist clenched as he thought back to the list of prohibitions on his first day. That didn't stop him from breaking the rules purely on principle.
"You signed up to live, Virgile. And how can we live if everything is forbidden to us?" She placed her hand on his with great delicacy. Unaccustomed to such tender gestures, he flinched, without rejecting her.
"I do everything on the sly, and I get yelled at on the day of my tests. I'd managed to fool them, I knew their dates. Now, with their fucking random tests, I get caught like a kid stealing candy. But you know what? Tonight, I need this. And if they're not happy, fuck them."
Spitting out his words with restrained rage, his gaze stared at the ground where the ash dropped, he tossed the cigarette butt and crushed it under his dress shoe. He hated them so much that he angrily punched the mattress before speaking again. "I've got a year to go. I don't know if I could. When I'm not working, I'm either getting drunk in bars or lying on the floor like an idiot. I wanted to live, to do what I couldn't before, without risk. Sometimes I think I should have died that day..."
His hands hid his face, and he held back his tears, without success. Evelyn moved from her chair to sit beside him, their shoulders now touching. Her hand released his and wiped a tear from his cheek before stroking his cheek and watching him.
"You had to make a difficult choice. You struggled all your life, wondering when your sick heart would fail you. You knew that, but no one is ready to face death." She was almost whispering as he kept his eyes closed, listening to her. "Having a heart attack at 26 is an awful lot. You've seen death first-hand, Virgile. If you wanted to live, you had only one choice."
"Netwatch." He shook her hand, this name was thrown out like a pain.
"They've wanted you for years. A talented nomad netrunner with obsolete equipment, you impressed them. They took the opportunity to be in their service for six years in exchange for a new heart. There was no right or wrong way. You lost either way. You could die young, like your mother, or leave your clan, and work for the enemy. But in this solution, you have a light. You can leave them soon and live your life. You can smoke at home, and eat those egg rolls at the little Kabuki restaurant until your stomach hurts. You can drive in the desert without limits."
She was right. Of course, she was! He felt her hand slide under his chin to turn it towards her. He opened his eyes to see her inches from his face, so beautiful and adorable with that small, caring smile.
"You'll be free, soon."
"But the horrors will stay." His sigh spoke louder than his words, his voice broke, and he turned his head again in shame. "What I did, the ones I betrayed and hunted, the one I..."
His throat tightened, unable to speak further, and his breath came in short supply. His artificial heart raced, just like a real one. Now he was panicking, gasping for air. Evelyn put her hand on his chest and helped him lie down on the bed, find a comfortable position, and calm him down with simple and tender gestures. A hand gently stroked his hair, her reassuring gaze on him with a soothing, comforting look on her face, as if to say 'everything will be fine'. After a few moments of panic, calm returned, his heart rate returned to normal, and his breathing became more settled.
Then the cries came, and the calmness brought the storm of feelings. An uncontrolled flow of tears rolled down his cheeks, and ended up on the sheets. What he couldn't get out in words, he expressed in this way. He felt Evelyn lie beside him and hold him in her thin arms. Like a child in the throes of grief, Virgile snuggled up to her and buried his head in her neck, seeking a comfort he could find nowhere else.
Long minutes went by, and they lay in each other's arms without a word, breaking into muffled sobs, until the crying stopped. At last, he broke away and took her hands to touch them, without looking at her, searching for words, but she anticipated him with her sweet voice.
"That's what's killing you. This netrunner. You blame yourself so much that it hurts."
"His name was Ryan Pierce. He was twenty years old. I tried to dissuade him. I ... I just wanted him to log off, stop his bullshit, and get away from me. Instead, he ran away and ... why the fuck did he go behind the Black Wall?! We can't get over it! I killed a guy when I wanted to save him..." He looked up at her, his face so sad and angry at the same time. "And don't tell me it wasn't the first time. The others were a real danger or attacked me. He..."
She squeezed his hand and cut him off. "... remind you of who you used to be. A young nomad, probably forced to freeze in a fridge full of ice cubes to access cyberspace. A free, passionate boy, full of life and the future ahead of him. And, like you, life was cruel in cutting him off so young. You tell yourself that you killed him, that you have become that monster you always hated, passed to the other side, to the villains of Netwatch."
Touché. Without knowing him, he only wanted to help this boy. When his file came to him, he recognized himself in his data, imagined his life and nature, and it became impossible to hurt him. And yet, he did worse, wanting too much to help him. The other one became afraid, panicked about being caught by Netwatch and preferred to die. Evelyn's hand on his face brought him back to the present moment, and stared at him with a certain determination.
"Okay, you made a mistake, but you didn't kill him. He chose to go behind the Black Wall, you didn't push or force him. He chose his fate, as you chose yours, embracing all the consequences, even the most tragic ones. That is the only thing you have in common. Virgile, you are a unique boy with a strength inside you that you are not aware of, a raw and inviolable survival instinct. Otherwise, you'd be dead long before your heart died, or you'd have been done long ago."
A sigh escaped his mouth, and he hesitated before speaking. "Do you think that one day I could be happy again?"
"Of course."
The wide, confident smile on his painted lips was communicative, and his face, in turn, changed, brighter, in contradiction to his red eyes. He felt a weight leave him. Without removing all his guilt, he had found what he had come for: comfort. Both remained silent, smiling at each other during this suspended moment.
"Do you want another cigarette?"
She left the bed as soon as he nodded, looking for the pack and a lighter on a small table behind her chair. Virgile sat back down in his original place, and ran a hand over his face, trying to sort out his emotions as she handed him the freshly lit cigarette, a trace of lipstick on the filter. He lifted it to his mouth and felt the warmth run through him. He savoured the moment again, a wave of well-being running through his body, exhausted by what he had just experienced.
He watched Evelyn standing there, finding her beautiful. He would never usually approach this kind of girl. Too confident and beautiful, he felt lucky to have had her against him for a few minutes.
You'll never be her type. Nobody likes losers.
The finished cigarette meant the end of the session. Now it was time to return to a monotonous and joyless reality. After a last kiss on the cheek, Evelyn let him go, Virgile left the cubicle to return to the entrance and passed again in front of the receptionist, always polite.
" Everything all right? "
"Very well." Hesitant, he finally leaned against the counter. "You were saying that Evelyn was rarely available?"
"Indeed. Some people book for weeks ahead to spend time with her. You were lucky today. Would you like to book your next session with her?"
Virgile nodded, without a word. Evelyn was different from the others indeed, he had never had an experience like this, so strong, so intense. She had the right words, the perfect tone and, above all, she knew how to anticipate. Between the doll's availability and his own schedule, he had to wait a month to see her again. But he would do so. He needed to.
And now, what to do? He had to go home and get a good night's sleep before going back to work tomorrow. In front of his car, a sentence came back to him : "How can we live if everything is forbidden to us?
As if to pay homage to this extraordinary session, Virgile decided that, for tonight, he would really live. His car drove to Kabuki, to that little restaurant he loved for its greasy egg rolls, and asked for a drink of baijiu, that Chinese rice alcohol that burned your throat. After that, he bought a pack of cigarettes to smoke in Little China, facing the sea, with a can of Cirrus Cola.
Tonight he was better because of this woman. Tomorrow would be another sad and dreary day, so he was enjoying this little feeling of life for the moment.
Thank you, Evelyn...