Friday Night Firefight: A Cyberpunk Isekai

One of the most interesting facts I used to share with people was that the New York Public Library used to have tenants.

Built back when apartments still relied on giant boilers in their basements to push heat through the building, the NYPL faced a relatively unique challenge. Imagine a massive open flame in the basement of a building that is packed with books, papers, and other highly flammable materials. How do you make sure the building doesn’t spontaneously catch fire and burn everything to the ground?

Answer: you hire people to live in the library full-time.

There were apartments built into the library where a superintendent and their entire family lived. As a child, that idea fascinated me – living among all those books, wandering the library at night, discovering hidden literary treasures. It was a dream that always lingered in the back of my mind.

So, you can imagine my disappointment when I discovered that Night City’s public libraries were all shit. The city preferred funneling its limited funds directly into more profitable ventures like corporate bailouts, sending Scavs after homeless squatters, and fortifying the NCPD – one of the most heavily armed gangs in the city – rather than preserving knowledge. The city had little money to spare, and it certainly didn’t want to spend it on a bunch of books when most citizens were perfectly content to waste away their hours in front of a TV, watching reruns of “Watson Whore.”

When I stepped into the Night City public library for the first time, I kinda expected a wizened old librarian to greet me, shush me, and remind me to respect books. Instead, I was met with silence. And not even the good kind of silence that you go to a library to find.

No. The front desk was abandoned. There weren’t any librarians shelving books or assisting at the checkout. The entire place was automated. You simply stepped in, swiped your library card, and had free access to the place.

I didn’t have a library card, but I did have the next best thing: a cyberdeck. The NETArch around the library was barely worth calling a security system. Again, why spend money protecting free knowledge when people didn’t even bother to wander in off the streets?

The dim lights of the library mixed with the faint hum of malfunctioning air conditioners. Rows upon rows of dusty bookshelves loomed before me, holding an eclectic mix of old paper books and modern data shards. The library’s grandeur had long since faded, but hopefully it still held some secrets I could exploit.

I made my way over to an ancient terminal that looked like it had been around since the age of Johnny Silverhand. Dust coated everything, and the keyboard was encased in one of those old plastic covers meant to protect the keys from wear. It was nothing to break the security and start scrounging around the library’s digital archives for the information I needed.

There is one thing I will give to the library; it still housed a massive data fortress that traced its origins back to the time of the RED, shortly after Johnny Silverhand blew up Arasaka Tower with a tactical nuke. Almost every piece of media and information from before then until now had been packed into the data fortress. If anyone in Night City had what I was looking for, it was going to be the public library system.

After sifting through layers of digital dust and navigating the archaic interface, I finally found what I was looking for buried deep within the archives. It was a copy of the code for an old compiler from before the DataKrash. It was a relic from an era when multiple programming languages were still in use.

Quick primer on programming languages: they’re what allow you to speak with machines. Programming languages can be separated into two different types: high-level and low-level. High-level languages are closer to human languages and make it easier for the programmer to…program. Low-level languages are closer to the binary used by computers, making them faster and more efficient but harder to write.

For example, if you wanted to add two numbers together in Python, your code would look something like this:

A = 5

B = 3

sum = A + B

print(sum)

In assembly, a low-level language, the same operation would be needlessly complex and look something like this:

MOV AX, 5

MOV BX, 3

ADD AX, BX

MOV result, AX

All of this is to say that Rache Bartmoss did the world a favor when he unleashed rogue Ais on the net, causing widespread chaos and breaking almost everything. After the net was broke, people decided to get together and simplify the whole landscape of programming by creating a single, universally accepted framework: META. Instead of multiple programming languages, people only had to learn one.

That meant that compilers – which were sort of like translation software for programming languages – had become obsolete overnight, relegated to data depositories and completely forgotten about.

Except for by me.

Even Yoko didn’t keep a copy of compiler code because there was no profit in selling a tool that could convert C++ to Assembly. What was the point? Nothing used those languages anymore.

Downloading the compiler was a dual-edged task. On one hand, the library’s security was laughably easy to breach, offering no resistance in grabbing such an antiquated piece of software. On the other hand, the library’s poor infrastructure meant I was stuck there for an hour, watching the progress bar inch forward with agonizing slowness.

As the compiler slowly made its way onto my cyberdeck, I wandered the library, soaking in the atmosphere. After the download finally finished, I tossed the compiler onto a shard I’d prepared, pocketed it, and left the library. On my way out I cleared my access logs in the library – you can never be too safe – and felt a mix of satisfaction and depression. Depression at how nobody really used the library in Night City. Satisfaction that one of my favorite public institutions had once again proved its worth to me.

&&&

Now that I had a means of transportation beyond the NCART, the city felt like it had opened up to me. It was like that moment in the game after the Konpeki Plaza Heist, when you’re finally able to explore beyond the starting area of Watson.

Due to my newfound freedom, I spent a lot of time in Japantown over in Westbrook, particularly in the Redwood Market. That was the spot where V meets with Takemura before hijacking one of the parade floats in the game. The first time I visited the market, I was hooked. It was a vibrant and bustling bazaar, teeming with booths, street vendors, and a bunch of people I could watch go about their day.

Every time I visited, I made a point to stop by the yakitori booth that V and Takemura ate at. It was a quaint little stand with sizzling skewers of “chicken” and the irresistible aroma of grilled “meat” that wafted through the air.

I ordered a few skewers, had a quick chat with the guy running the stand, and turned my attention to the TV blaring in the corner.

Anna: at Redwood. Where are you?

I dropped her a pin with my location and turned back to the TV, my eyes scanning the headlines. Arif Iqbol came on and I was instantly riveted.

Hello, my name is Arif Iqbol, and this is WNS News. Our top story tonight – James Franley, once the presumptive favorite for a seat on the city council, finds his political career in jeopardy following a series of damning revelations.

Recently surfaced videos depict Franley engaged in activities that are not only illegal but also deeply unethical for a man campaigning on a platform of integrity. These videos, which have quickly gone viral, reveal a start contrast between Franley’s public persona and his private actions.

Franley was caught in the heart of Watson’s notorious nightlife district, partying with joytoys and indulging in behavior that his critics claim, “contrast sharply with his public persona.”

Even more concerning are subsequent videos showing Franley meeting with known gang members, including those from the infamous Tyger Claws. The Tyger Claws, notorious for their ruthless control over parts of Night City, were ostensibly a target of Franley’s promise to rid the city of its dangerous elements.

The most incriminating footage, however, captures Franley making purchases in an open-air drug market in Watson. The video clearly shows him exchanging eddies for various illicit substances, ranging from Blue Glass to Glitter, in blatant disregard of the laws he vowed to uphold.

The fallout has been immediate and severe. Franley’s campaign team has scrambled into damage control mode, but it may be too late. Public reaction has been swift, with many of his most ardent supporters expressing shock and disappointment, while critics have wasted no time in calling for his resignation from the race.

The NCPD has also taken note of these videos, launching an investigation into Franley’s activities. While no official charges have been filed yet, the mounting evidence suggests that Franley will face serious legal consequences.

This scandal has thrown the closely contested city council race into chaos. Franley, once a frontrunner with a strong chance of unseating long-time city council member Brad Norwood, now faces the very real possibility of having to withdraw from the race altogether. Council member Norwood has public condemned Franley’s actions as “a betrayal of the public trust.”

Stay tuned to WNS News for further updates on this developing story.

I tuned out the rest of the news reports as Anna slid into the seat next to mine. Her eyes narrowed as she caught the tail endo f the news story, a hint of frustration etched onto her face.

Since she was one of the only people who knew about my face implant, she’d been a reluctant participant in my plan to torpedo Franley’s campaign. Leveraging her connections with the Mox, Anna arranged for a group of joytoys to party with “Franley” while she recorded the entire night. Deng had introduced Anna to the media contact he knew, so she was also the one who “leaked” the videos that effectively ended Franley’s campaign.

While Anna had no doubt played a major role in my plan, everyone else in Night City did the actual heavy lifting. The media had been eager to tear someone down during the election season, and had pounced when they smelled blood in the water. Brad Norwood’s campaign was eager to paint James Franley as a hypocrite once the videos surfaced. The public quickly got behind the story, protesting “Franley’s” late-night escapades. We even convinced a few members of the NCPD who owed us some favors to make a raid on his campaign headquarters.

Of course, nobody would be stupid enough to keep incriminating files on their campaign computers, so the raid should have amounted to nothing but a quick photo op. But a quick word to Sandra, and her entire netrunner collective filled the campaign computers with illegal XBDs and corporate secrets they’d stolen from unprotected data fortresses.

Job done. Franley was now a non-entity in the campaign. Ivan Vassiliev had called for a meeting with Albert and me, seemingly ecstatic that one of his city council contacts was poised to win reelection in a landslide. But Anna wasn’t exactly in the mood to celebrate.

“You happy with that?” she asked as I munched on my food.

She had been a reluctant participant, but she had come through when it mattered. Her role had been crucial, and now that the plan had succeeded, it felt like she wanted to know if the ends justified the means.

“Happy? Not happy.”

“Then why do it? He might have been able to help Night City. I mean, he’s damn sure better than the alternative.”

“We did what we had to do. My interest lies in helping Fred, and Mor, and Deng, and you, and Cyndi, and everyone else down at the alcove. The best way for us to do that, right now, is to make sure a friendly voice gets on the city council. James Franley wasn’t going to be that voice for us.”

“He could have been. Or he could have challenged the gangs out there.”

I shook my head. “He’s one guy. And he’s involved in Night City politics. How successful are the ‘good’ cops you know in the NCPD?” I pressed.

Anna frowned at that, clearly displeased, but I continued. “Sooner or later, someone was going to put a bullet in him. Or he would've done what we claimed he did, but for real.”

She didn’t response immediately, so we ate our meals in silence. Eventually, Anna broke the silence. “Why did it work on him? I mean, other politicians have been caught doing much worse. So why did this torpedo his campaign?”

“Yea, politicians are dicks. But none of those other politicians ever campaigned on being morally righteous.” She shot me a questioning look, and I shrugged. “Sure, all the things that ‘Franley’ did weren’t immoral. In fact, it’s what everyone else in Night City does every day. Plus, he’s nowhere near as reprehensible as Brad Norwood. But Franley set himself above all the vices in Night City. He was trying to convince us that he could rise above all the shit that this city throws at us. So, when people saw him indulging in all those same behaviors, it turned him into a hypocrite.”

Anna huffed and went back to her food, her fork moving with a bit more force than necessary. “So, you got a meeting with this union guy? He gonna help us?”

“He should. We just got his guy elected and he didn’t have to do anything.”

“Why do you want me there? Expecting trouble?” she asked.

“Nah, nothing like that. I think Albert just wants to show the guy that we’re people he needs to take seriously. Our first meeting, he was a little bit antagonistic, treating us like we were beneath him.” I shrugged. “But I might be wrong. All I know is Albert said he’s gonna show up with some muscle and I should do the same. I think it’s ridiculous but…Albert’s taking the lead on this whole politics thing.”

“And you’re okay with that?” she asked. “He doesn’t rub you wrong or something? Mor says the guy used to be a corpo, and he still has a bunch of sleaze on him.”

“Yea, I don’t really know what to make of the guy,” I explained, finishing off my yakitori. “He says he wants to help the homeless, so I figure I’ll let him try until he does something that puts us all in danger.”

When we finished our meals, I dropped Anna a pin with the location of Ivan’s office and we set off in our separate vehicles. The ride was uneventful, and when we got to Ivan’s office, I noticed a lot more people hanging around outside this time. Ivan had a crew of more blue-collar workers outside, milling about. When Anna and I pulled up, I noticed their eyes tracking us, trying to size us up as if we were trouble.

Albert was already inside, meeting with Ivan. True to his word, he had recruited some muscle for The Pack. A number of mercs were loitering around outside, clearly there to show strength. One of Albert’s guys stood out, dressed in a black rubber jacket and sunglasses, no doubt meant to look menacing. The outline of a Nue pistol was visible beneath his jacket, confirming he was armed and ready for trouble.

As Anna and I approached, the merc stepped forward to intercept me, extending a hand to block my path. His posture was aggressive, and his eyes were hidden behind dark lenses, but I could sense his intent. Anna shifted slightly to my left, poised to step in and put him in his place if needed.

“And who are you?” I asked.

“Sergio.”

“Mmhmm,” I said as I pulled up short in front of him. He was obviously trying to be intimidating, but I had spent time with Diego, Deng, and Zion, three guys who had an aura of danger that made people want to curl up into a ball. Hell, even Cyndi’s wild anger gave me more pause than this guy.

Before the tension could escalate further, a voice called out from inside the building. “Let him in. He’s who we’re waiting for.”

The merc grudgingly stepped aside, motioning for me to proceed. I felt a surge of irritation at his attempt to command me, but Anna cleared her throat, urging me forward. She stayed behind, positioning herself near the merc, clearly ready to keep an eye on him.

I stepped into Ivan Vassiliev’s office, and the atmosphere felt markedly different from our last meeting. Ivan, who had been imposing and almost antagonistic before, now got up out of his chair to greet me. He shook my hand with a smile and motioned for me to take one of the seats in front of his desk.

His demeanor had noticeably shifted. Gone was the condescending tone of a man who thought I was a child out of his depth. Instead, there was a hint of respect – and perhaps a sliver of fear. Ivan, a man who had clawed his way to influence in Night City and was surrounded by rough men ready to commit violence for him, now viewed me as someone he could do business with. I had to admit, that felt pretty good. My actions on the Franley campaign had obviously made a mark.

Albert was already seated, his expression a blend of boredom and slight annoyance. I doubted I was late to the meeting; maybe Albert was just incredibly punctual.

As I took my seat, Ivan leaned forward in his and asked, “How the hell did you manage to create such a realistic video of Franley?”

Albert also leaned in slightly, clearly interested in the answer. I wasn’t going to tell them that I had a prototype implant that let me basically shapeshift into anyone I had a behavioral scan of. Nor was I going to reveal that everything Franley had done in the video – including drinking with joytoys, chatting with the Tyger Claws, and buying glitter from an open-air drug market – had actually been me. I thought about foisting the whole thing off on Sandra Dorsett and her netrunner collective, claiming that they had done all the heavy lifting. But why bother?

I gave a nonchalant shrug. “Trade secret,” I replied, brushing off the question. “What’s more important is whether Brad Norwood is going to back us now.”

Ivan nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered my response. “Fair enough. And Norwood is in your corner. I just got off the phone with him and he’s impressed that I had someone torpedo Franley’s campaign so effectively. He’s on board and he’ll back you as long as he gets elected.”

“What now?” I asked. “Who else can we get to back us?”

A grin spread across Ivan’s face as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about that. Your skills are impressive. I wanna offer you a full-time job with my organization.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Doing what exactly?”

“As much influence as I have in Night City with my army of workers, I don’t have a reliable person in this place that can play dirty politics,” he explained. “You’re capable. You get results. This thing with Franley was beautiful. I can use that.”

Albert, slightly peeved that Ivan was trying to poach me, tried to steer the conversation back to the city council. “What about the councilors, Ivan? We came here because we thought you could help get us in contact with city councilors who would back The Pack.”

Ivan waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve got several people who’re interested. If you can show you’re useful on the campaign trail, you’ll get your backing.”

“Let’s stick with the councilors for now,” I said, not wanting to get on Ivan’s bad side by completely shutting him down. If he thought there was a chance I’d work for him, he’d probably put more effort into helping get The Pack some political backing. I wasn’t entirely sure if The Pack was even a good thing, but if we were going to build it, we needed some politicians who owed us a few favors.

Albert gave me a blank look before briefly nodding to me and then turning back to Ivan. “So, about those councilors.”