Chapter 17
Chapter 17
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Extremely Fun Shopping (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
In Korea, there's this term called "sidegrade."
Super simple explanation:
It's a mashup of the Hangul character '옆' from King Sejong's Hangul alphabet, meaning "side," and the English word "upgrade" from England.
So, when do you use this quirky term?
Exactly in situations like this.
"Do I look calm right now!? What I need isn't some doctor fretting over my health—it's my stinky real friend!!"
"...That's! Fine by me."
A golden retriever with a head twice the size of a normal dog's—making it look ridiculously awkward—shrugged its paws with a deadpan attitude.
I'd heard that dogs can develop kneecap issues as they age. Was that why it was acting like this?
But recalling what the customer had just said...
- This isn't an android!! Fuck, it doesn't even have rights. Why the hell is a pet robot dog talking like a person...? I told you over and over. Just—just fix the barking function properly!!
In other words, that dog wasn't a real living creature.
It was a robot.
Actually, the term "android" includes the meaning of "human-like."
So all robots with human-level intelligence can be called androids.
They don't have to be humanoid.
"...Max."
Tears welled up in the scruffy-bearded man's eyes.
Anyone can love animals.
Even if the object of that love is an artificial lifeform made of wires and steel.
Their friendship hadn't faded.
Maybe Max's sincere voice got through to him.
(Though its unnaturally clear pronunciation made it sound a bit creepy, like the uncanny valley.)
The customer released his grip on Walter's collar.
"Yeah, Max. No matter how much you change, no matter how creepy your voice gets. You're my friend...!"
It would've been perfect if the story wrapped up nicely in this heartwarming moment.
ZZZT—
A popcorn-popping sound came from the dog.
Black smoke and sparks flew up.
"...Ma, Max?"
Oh crap, it's broken.
Walter, seeing the scene, quickly pulled down his goggle glasses from his forehead.
"E-emergency!!"
I watched the chaotic scene unfold.
Then quietly turned to look at Liberra.
This was the third question.
"...You said this was definitely the place, right?"
"...Yes."
I still couldn't quite believe it.
In the end, (crazy psycho machine-fucker) Walter restored the customer's dog to its original state.
He had some real skill—the robot dog that a Cthulhu monster had tried to possess was back to normal in seconds.
"Kaaack! Ptui! Fuck, I ain't coming back here ever again!!"
Its bark sounded incredibly dry now,
and its fluffy fur had turned into shiny chrome—a bald look.
But hey, it walked out on four legs.
"Yeah yeah, come again."
Walter wiped the sweat from his forehead and waved nonchalantly.
Judging by his calm demeanor, this wasn't a one-off occurrence.
"Alright, customers. Sorry for the wait."
The chair he was sitting in spun around.
His eyeballs spun with it.
It was like looking at that Mad-Eye professor from some wizard movie.
"No beggars, no subscriptions, no sex toy sales, but I take all repair jobs—hmm?"
Walter tilted his head at Liberra.
I'd been wondering why she brought us here, but this reaction suggested they knew each other somewhat.
"Ho, long time no see. Doesn't look like you're here for repairs, and not selling scrap either. Did you pick up a decent android from the junkyard or something?"
Walter's gaze stopped on me.
Android, huh.
Guess he's pretty open-minded.
- Are your parents robots?
- No.
Such a conversation flashed through my mind.
Liberra answered Walter's question.
"Android? Please. Today we're here to buy some proper gear. ...Sir."
Walter's eyebrows crumpled into an eight (八) at Liberra's awkward polite speech.
"...What's with the sudden politeness? Did you eat something weird off the floor? Treating malware-infected chipsets here is a pain."
"...Fuck, you taking customers or not?"
"Of course. Heh."
Liberra took a step back, and Walter's gaze landed on me again.
"Looks like you're the one with business for me. What're you looking for? Pretty much everything except the stuff I don't have."
I didn't answer Walter right away.
Watching him bicker familiarly with Liberra sparked a weird imagination.
How much hardship must this little kid have endured to survive in a city overflowing with rain, dust, violence, and looting?
Maybe they had a relationship like this:
- My family's starving... Please, just buy this scrap metal.
- Hmm. I'd like to say no, but I have a daughter your age, so I can't turn you away. Fine. I'll buy your useless scrap, but next time, bring a customer.
- ...Thank you!
End imagination.
I rubbed my slightly reddened eyes and spoke to Walter, who clearly had a good heart despite his eccentric mind.
"Yes, we're here to buy something."
"Fine by me."
"How's your daughter doing?"
"...I'm single."
Oops.
But brushing off the minor plot hole, I continued.
"We're looking for a terminal."
"What kind? There are tons of terminals."
Walter pulled out a bizarre, brain-like wrinkled hat from under the counter.
It looked like muscles and brain fused and shrunk.
"How about this? Fresh in stock. It's cybernetic smart wear you can use as an auxiliary computing unit. Decent for browsing the cyber web or hacking."
"...Isn't that the implant the dog that just left was using?"
"Psh, as long as it works."
It hadn't worked, though.
It even caught fire.
I briefly imagined equipping it in my helmet slot.
I'd look like Jimmy Neutron—or that rice-eating character famous for maple leaves.
Quick rejection.
"If possible, not an implant. Something handheld?"
"...Not even a smart chip?"
"Yes."
Walter's eyes spun grotesquely again.
"Hmmm. Now that I look, you don't smell like oil at all. Completely clean."
He took a big sniff.
"A pure purist... "
He clicked his tongue briefly.
"Tch, a customer who won't make me money."
"...You say that to customers' faces?"
"What's it matter? It's my shop."
Walter grabbed a crude "mechanical arm" from a shelf piled with junk.
It looked like Captain Hook could equip it right now.
"Here, a handheld terminal."
"......"
"Can't even joke, huh."
Then he pulled out a display-style terminal from the back.
This one actually resembled a smartphone.
"This what you want?"
"Oh, yes."
I eyed the terminal in Walter's hand.
Sleek body, clean design.
A bit thick, but that made it seem sturdier—better even.
Weight wouldn't bother me anyway.
'Galaxy? iPhone?'
Didn't matter.
Now I had a new smartphone made with cyberpunk world's amazing tech...
"It's from a company that went bust after losing a corp war, so no A/S, but you wouldn't expect that around here anyway."
"Yeah, true."
Suddenly felt a bit cheap.
Discontinued model, huh.
A little disappointed, but anyway.
I carefully extended both hands.
Like humanity receiving fire from Prometheus.
Finally, I could get online...
"1,200 dollars."
"...Pardon?"
Froze again.
I didn't know the local dollar exchange rate well,
but this wasn't the world of the 45th or 47th US president.
Pretty pricey for a discontinued old terminal.
'...1,200 dollars?'
Our grocery store's hotdogs were 2 dollars each.
That's 600 hotdogs.
If I ate 30 a day, it'd last 20 days.
"......"
Doing the math, maybe I'd been eating too much lately.
Anyway.
Liberra, who'd been quiet behind me, stepped forward. Apparently not just me.
"No way. You messing with me? For that price, I could buy a good smart chip and get it implanted."
"Weren't you using polite speech earlier?"
"...Sir."
Liberra's momentum dipped a bit, but the fire in her eyes didn't extinguish.
Walter paused at her look.
"No, really, it's good stuff. See? The battery's removable here."
Such lost tech.
Walter disassembled the battery and pointed to a button covered by a safety cap.
"?"
Why a button on the battery...?
"In a pinch, pop out the battery, press this, throw it at enemies..."
"Throw it?"
"It explodes. Not high-explosive, but enough to kill the careless."
Walter naturally gave a thumbs-up.
"In other words, a revolutionary self-defense terminal..."
"Gotta buy a new battery after throwing?"
"Naturally."
Are you kidding me right now?
Who carries a bomb in their pocket?
"Hmm... Still, no more than 400 dollars. ...Sir."
But that bizarre sales point apparently appealed to Liberra.
What age likes bombs...?
"Slicing more than half off? 1,000 dollars."
"You have to keep buying batteries as consumables. We'd bear the maintenance cost, so cut it some."
"Batteries are cheap anyway. ...But if you buy them exclusively from my shop, I can do 800."
"It's old stock anyway. If we wanted weapons, we'd go to a gun shop."
"Fine, you win. 500 dollars. That's the exact cost price."
The two finished haggling quickly and looked at me.
I realized I'd underestimated this cyberpunk world.
Who uses a smartphone as an explosive...?
But as I said before, in a one-eyed world, two eyes make you abnormal.
I held up the bills I'd snuck from the grocery counter.
"Any installments...?"
"That won't do, sir."
"......"
I was joking too.
The classic bell rang about three times.
Click.
With the connection sound, a dry voice came from the terminal.
That tone was chilling, like a north wind blizzard.
Made me careful with my words without realizing.
"...B-Boss. It's me. Y'know, Abel Anderson. The employee you picked up from the junkyard."
The cold ice melted in an instant.
Soon, Christine's voice I remembered flowed out like an exclamation.