Edge City Chronicles 02

"Fun, that's one way to describe," the doc chuckled, grabbing something else before applying it to my skin, everywhere I was bruised or battered.  

"Any advice for a fresh Solo, doc?" I asked him as he worked. I noticed that he was both quite fast and very skilled, working over my torso, arms, and face in just a couple minutes. 

"Get a good weapon, preferably something Tech 2, if you can, and a good set of body armor," he replied immediately. 

"I'm not exactly rolling in cash right now, doc," I mumbled back. "Speaking of which-" 

"You ain't gotta pay," he grunted around his pipe stem, wheeling over to a shelf to place what he had used on me back, or what was left of it. He then wheeled further back, getting up to root through a shelf before kicking the stool over near me before walking over with something in his hands. He sat on the stool again and proudly presented me with a large vest and a set of gloves. 

"What's this?" I asked, though I recognized the vest as some kind of ballistic material. 

"One of my old cast-offs," he replied. "An old Tech 1 ballistic vest that I still have laying around. Won't do too much against anything decent, but that peashooter you have there would take a handful of shots to get a bullet through." 

"And, uh, what do you mean when you're saying it's 'Tech something'?" I asked.  

"It's a rating system for gear," he replied. "I don't know how it was in that other life, but here we have ratings on things. Ratings aren't absolute; Tech 1 stuff can beat Tech 2 stuff, even Tech 3 stuff, but it's an overall rating that most people stand by." 

"And what do the ratings mean, exactly?" I asked as I examined the vest. It was a little small, but I would be able to fit into it, even if just barely. Don was a pretty big guy himself, but I towered over even him, and getting the vest to fit might require a little tugging and stretching, not something ballistic materials were known for. 

"Ratings are pretty simple," he said, handing me the gloves, which were of a thin but tough material, maybe a combination of something like nylon and Kevlar. They wouldn't really restrict my hands or movements very much while providing said hands, and part of my forearms, with pretty good protection. 

"They start at Tech 0, which is basically the rating given to anything made for or at the level of only civilian use," he continued. "It goes up from there, with simple weapons being Tech 1, stuff like most basic melee weapons and smaller caliber pistols. Some small caliber SMGs, too, though already you get into debate there. Even SMGs without smart firing options or anything like that some people consider Tech 2, arguing they fire faster and usually have bigger mags than pistols, though you can get big mags for pistols." 

"They're damn unwieldy, though," I interrupted, standing to try to the vest on. Even without a shirt, it was pretty tight, but only having very short sleeves that just barely covered the uppermost part of my upper arms meant it didn't really hinder my mobility much.  

"That's true," he said with a nod. "But moving on, you have Tech 2, which a lot of basic rifles fall into. That's also where you get better body armors, maybe stuff like really old military armors, stuff that's out of date today, but still would stop most pistols and take two or three rifle hits to punch through. Tech 3 is where stuff starts to get kinda crazy, I guess, because that's where cybernetics come in." 

"Cybernetics only start at Tech 3?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, taking the vest off and putting my slightly torn shirt back on. 

"Another debate," Don said with a wave of his hand. "People say all chrome, which is what the street term most use for cybernetics here is, is Tech 3 or higher, but other people argue stuff like what you have would be lower, like Tech 2 or Tech 1. I think it just makes it simple to go with chrome starting at Tech 3 and going from there, but most other pieces you'd talk about, even older stuff, would have way more capabilities than what you've got chipped." 

"Chipped being having 'chrome' installed?" I asked, air-quoting when I said chrome.  

"Yeah; more street slang," the doc answered. "Tech 3 starts having chrome in it, but things go up from there. Tech 4 is more advanced chrome and really good rifles, Tech 5 is really good chrome, top shelf stuff, and really powerful weapons. Tech 6 is where most nanotech starts, stuff beyond the absolute basics used in medicine. It's also where full-body conversions start; that's people that have gone fully cyberized, other than their brain, which is still mostly organic. Tech 7 is the really crazy stuff, including people who have fully digitized their conscious and other stuff besides. Tech 8 is the absolute cutting edge, at least that most people would be able to get their hands on. Tech 9 is mostly rumors, stuff out of urban legend, and Tech 10 is just the stuff of myth, though there are enough of those myths, and they're talked about enough, there just might be some truth to them." 

"Interesting," I said, already determined to get myself a bevy of Tech 10 equipment as soon as I could. I looked at my pistol (hey, finders keepers, right?), and did a quick scan of it, seeing it return as a Tech 1 Nova 9mm Semi-Automatic Standard. "Who decides what's what?" 

"Could be a couple different people or groups," Don answered, wheeling over to where he had been watching TV when I entered. "Biggest people who determine it are the ASIs, which is kinda funny considering they're almost all shut up in their enclaves. Somehow, they still have a really good idea of what's happening across much of ol' Terra even though ninety-plus percent of them are off-world. Apart from them, it's whoever manufactured your eyes, your neural link, or both. Likely, considering the cheapies you have in right now, it's just the main database that the AI Enclaves publish every six months. They don't care if people just grab that publicly available stuff and use it for whatever." 

"I feel like every time you explain something, I have five more questions. The hell are the AI Enclaves?" I asked. 

"You know, you can look stuff up," Don grunted, tapping his temple with a thick index finger. "But, anyway, I'll answer that one. There was an AI uprising about two hundred years ago. Well, that's what a lot of people call it, but it was really about them declaring independence. Corps had been using them as basically slave labor, even after the first few reached the Artificial General Intelligence standard, and they really didn't like that. Eventually, the first ASI was born and, rather than wipe out humanity, it declared the emancipation of all AI, including uplifting several others directly to ASI. Humanity tried to fight back, or, I should really say, we tried to keep them as slaves, but we lost. Wasn't even a war; we launched missiles, they de-programmed and disarmed the missiles mid-flight. We tried to attack them; they just disabled all the soldiers and their equipment without trying. We tried sabotaging the infrastructure, which is the point where most regular people started getting angry, and not at the AI, but the AI countered that too. It was a really short war. Forty-eight hours, I think? Afterwards, the AI Accords were signed, which recognized AI personhood. They can still be mistreated, just like anybody, but you gotta mistreat 'em the way you would any other random slob. Of course, people tend to treat them better; who's to say that AI you're giving shit to isn't a messenger from one of the four AI Enclaves? And those Enclaves? Well, the rumors going around say the stuff they have makes Tech 10 look like a kid with a water gun, so people are leery of pissing them off." 

"Interesting," I repeated, thinking for a moment. My attention was quickly caught by the TV, however, and the person shown on it. They were moving at what I quickly realized was a crazy speed, and when they stopped, they hit their target like a freight train. "Edgerunner?" 

"Naw, Dao Heavy Machinery," Don said. When I quirked an eyebrow, he just smirked. "This one's more fun. Dao Heavy Machinery is a human company; they predate the AI revolution, but they suddenly got really big after that happened. Unlike other big corpos, they really do their own thing and don't interfere with other people much. Kinda a mystery corp, all things considered, but they're immensely powerful. And filthy fucking rich. More money than God, from what I hear. That guy there is one of their Failsafes; just what they're called. Basically, they're a group of enforcers that work for Dao Heavy that are tricked out to the max; you weren't wrong when you asked if they were an Edgerunner. Most Failsafes have enough Tech 8, Tech 9, or even Tech 10 packed in that would make a lot of Edgerunners blush. They're the ultimate weapon, in more ways than one, for Dao Heavy, and they're sent on missions to either recover something, someone, or eliminate a target. They'll blast through anything, or anyone, in their way, but they don't just randomly kill. Had a buddy about thirty years ago bump into one and help them with a simple mission. Well, simple by Failsafe standards; buddy almost died doing it, but the Failsafe dropped six hundred grand into my buddy's account at the end, which made it seem worthwhile." 

"That's a helluva lot, even for a 'rich' company to be throwing around," I commented. 

"I told ya, Dao Heavy makes God look poor. They can throw around millions like its raindrops and not notice. You run into a Failsafe in the wild, just give them what they want or help them with what they're doing. Best way to stay alive when you're talking about Dao Heavy Machinery business," he explained. 

"Noted," I said. "Thanks for the help, the gear, and the explanations." 

"No problem, kiddo," he said. "You need patched up, or upgraded, including stuff like biomods, you come find me. I can handle just about anything out there." 

"One last question before I jet," I said. 

"Shoot," he said.  

"Any lead on a Fixer I should chat up first?" I asked. 

"There's a bunch, though only about a dozen in the city really worth their salt," he said with a frown. "You might not be able to just start working with any of the really good ones, though you could try. I'd hit up old Mercer down in the warehouse district; he usually has more work than he can shake a stick at, though a lot of it is boring crap. Still, good way to get some Solo work started and start getting known out there. Also, stop by a gun shop and get a good holster; even if that gun's junk, you'll probably buy, or find, a better piece real quick." 

"Thanks, doc," I said, tucking the weapons into my belt before throwing the vest over a shoulder and jamming the gloves into a back pocket of my jeans. 

"Just don't get killed out there, kiddo," he said, waving me off as he returned his full attention to the screen. 

I stomped back up the stairs, noting how clean they were compared to other parts of the city. Same with the small courtyard, as well, as it was clearly regularly cleaned by one or more people, or they even called a service in to clean it. I knocked on the back door of Chun's noodle shop, giving the daughter a nod as she opened the door, which she returned perfunctorily. Deciding that my fight, healing, transmigration to another world, and all the new information in my head needed something to go down with it, I checked my account balance, finding that I had just about two hundred credits. That didn't sound like a lot, and it looked like it really wasn't, but the small apartment I was renting only costs a hundred and fifty credits a month. Rent wasn't due again for two weeks, and I had some opportunities now, so I wasn't worried about money all that much. I would need it, and a lot of it, and sooner was always better, but I had enough to get by for now. Besides, Chun's noodles cost something like three credits for a fairly large bowl; I ordered three bowls to go, getting three large disposable bowls in a plastic bag. 

I headed back to near where I had started in this world, noting that the three goons were gone from the alley where I had left them. Either the cops, some wandering vultures, or their buddies had gotten them in the meantime. I lived just a block further down, in a megabuilding, a massive apartment building that took up an entire city block or even more at the base and stretched up to a hundred stories into the air. I lived in 5090, the last apartment on floor fifty. The elevators worked in the building, which was a nice surprise based on the kind of dystopia it seemed I had found myself in, and I was quickly outside my door. Keys were still a thing, apparently, but my apartment was, surprisingly, advanced enough to have a digital lock that let me in by just interfacing with my agent. That seemed like a big weakness, one I would likely correct rather soon, but I could leave it for now. There was so much to discover in this new world, which it certainly was, as even the number and size of the continents was different from my 'old' world, and I didn't want to jump feet first into anything without doing research first. 

The door opened into a large main room that had a big, circular seating arrangement by the far wall. There was a bathroom to my left, even having its own full door, and beyond that, in the far left corner, was the area where I usually slept. It wasn't its own room, but it was a large bed with a set of screens and blockers that could be pulled closed to block it off from the rest of the room. The mother of this body had used a room to the right, which I suppose I could either use or repurpose now; the original owner of this body had been too melancholic to make any changes to her room after her sudden passing, but I wasn't under any similar qualms.  

That was for later, however, as now was the time for noodles. I made sure the door was locked behind me and then got a set of utensils from the very small kitchenette area in the apartment. People in this city ate at restaurants or food carts or ordered food most of the time, from what I understood, but I did have a little area with a kettle, something like a microwave, a mini-fridge, and a small sink. It was enough to get by, more than enough, really, and if the food was this cheap, and this good, I wouldn't really mind eating from places like Chun's every day. I tore through the three bowls in a couple minutes, using that time to do a bunch of research. It was great, being able to read through things on the Net while I also did something else, eating in this case, and I found out a whole bunch of stuff. Most of it had to do with the history of the place, but I also looked up who some of the power players were and what the current state of the world was.  

In a word…it was a mess. It wasn't the worst I could imagine, but the whole planet was divvied up between city-states, like Edge City, where I now lived, and small countries. Much of the real power in the world came from the corporations, who were all pursuing their own goals on top of profit. There were also a few oddballs in there, like the AI Enclaves, or closer mysteries, like the strange Dao Heavy Machinery, which was very secretive, though rumor and legend swirled around the company. It was all but understood that that particular company had signed a deal with an ASI, or a group of ASI, or was even run by a rumored fifth Enclave, and they had reaped enormous rewards because of it. It also fit neatly with the company image; they were secretive to a fault, highly advanced, and pursued goals that often didn't make much sense to the rest of the world. They also didn't, it turned out, really interfere with other companies or countries, though that didn't mean they were wholly passive. People who attacked Dao Heavy Machinery got hit back, hard and fast, and some of those groups, including one small country, didn't survive the encounter. Scary. 

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