Cyberpunk:Robotic Reverie

"Ah, damn, my head hurts."

It felt like there was a drill boring into his skull. He opened his eyes and managed to stand up straight, nearly banging his head against the wall as if he were dizzy from a hangover.

"Well, I have to go to the hospital now. Maybe I ate something bad yesterday. But if I take a leave, my salary will be deducted this month, and I can only choose between the latest Cyberpunk 2099 and some delicious food."

He straightened up with the help of his hands. The colorful lights in his palms made him wonder when the city had developed such brilliant lights. Once he came to his senses, he was nearly suffocated by the scene in front of him. It was like a tower made of windows and walls squeezed together, occupying the entire view, with the sky invisible. The orange artificial lights flickered blindingly, reflecting back and forth on the window, making it impossible to tell where they originated. Countless signs flickered in the unknown gas, uncertain whether it was clouds or buildings.

"Finished."

He stared out the window expressionlessly for nearly a minute in silence and suddenly slapped himself hard.

Bang!

"It hurts!" The pain in his head was slightly relieved by this, so it wasn't a dream.

He sighed deeply and buried his head in his chest. He had already guessed the current situation. It seemed that Cyberpunk 2099 would not be purchased. Before college, he had always liked online novels and even imagined himself traveling through time one day. However, when it actually happened, he was a bit at a loss.

"Fortunately, at least I don't have to feel like a ghost with my toes stepped on," he comforted himself. The window seemed to have been treated and could not reflect his appearance.

"I need a mirror," he said to himself.

As soon as he finished speaking, the image on the floor-to-ceiling window that his left hand was holding on to changed.

Half-kneeling on a thin blanket, with black hair, black eyes, ordinary features, slender arms, and a white vest. This was his new look. "Too ordinary; it seems I can't be a gigolo," he thought self-deprecatingly.

He tried hard to search his memory but only vaguely remembered being an ordinary office worker. The last thing he recalled was the heartbreaking amount when he paid the bill for drinking.

"What's the name?" Suddenly, a familiar cramping pain spread throughout his head, like an out-of-control merry-go-round spinning madly inside.

After the pain subsided, he found he couldn't even remember his own name. Moreover, how did he travel through time? It couldn't be that he didn't have money to pay the bill and was turned into a steak and then resurrected?

But once he tried to recall the details, his head responded with pain.

"Forget it, let's first see who owns this body."

He remembered the window that had just changed and said with a try-it attitude, "Show me my life story."

A square transparent window appeared before his eyes, and he shrank back in fright, but the picture remained in front of him.

"Is it displayed in front of my eyes?" He tried to shake his head, and sure enough, the window moved with him.

According to the information in the window, his name is Paul Parker, born in Guitar City in 2719, and a student of journalism at Guitar University. His parents died in the riots two years ago, and Paul was entrusted to a friend before they died, and he is currently staying in his office.

In Guitar City, only favors and interests are eternal. Fortunately, this friend owed his parents a favor big enough to make this friend the only person he could rely on, at least before he finished college.

Of course, as a price to pay, he also had to work as an apprentice in the firm in his spare time.

"Paul Parker, this name is too plain." He scratched his hair with a wry smile. Memories came back a little bit: the gloomy afternoon with light rain, the sound of the coffin being nailed shut, the smell of soil...

"Where am I?"

The text in the window flashed and then turned into three big characters: "Freeport."

"Freeport?"

2,500 years later, with the invention of technology to travel between worlds, the isolation between worlds was broken. Just like the Age of Discovery, worlds shared what they had, and technology, materials, and talents circulated between them. As a result, all worlds developed rapidly—that was how it began.

Although the technology of world-shuttle travel is not yet mature and can only carry a small number of objects, greed between worlds has gradually emerged, and small-scale conflicts, espionage, etc., have emerged one after another. Similarly, cross-world crimes, cross-world travelers, and various cross-world services have also emerged.

Stimulated by a large demand, this world has benefited immensely from its convenient geographical location. Capital has developed rapidly, and the weak government cannot cope with the problems that have arisen. Therefore, huge multinational companies have gradually replaced the government in power, with management regulations replacing laws. This chaotic world has completely become a "free port" for mercenaries, criminals, and freelancers. (Version 2719)

"It's completely over."

Paul fell on the bed, without any desire to get up. He was just an ordinary office worker, and the body he traveled through was just a student. He probably wouldn't survive more than a few years in a place that sounded like it could turn into a battlefield at any time.

Staring at the exposed pipe above his head, there was a faint light coming out of it, illuminating the square vent on the wall. A wild cat passing by glanced into the room, and he felt a burst of warmth from the bed beneath him. The digital clock on the wall changed every second.

Even the pain in his head was nothing compared to the thought that he might have to waste the rest of his life in this lifeless room.

"I must find the reason for my time travel and a way to return." Paul secretly made up his mind. The leisurely weekends and idle life at home were calling him back. Even though his life was a little boring, leaving this world in bed listening to the voices of his loved ones was one of his rare wishes.

"But how to do it specifically?" he began to think. It is now 2719, and the information mentioned "world shuttle technology," so maybe the research on time travel is already very mature. As long as he looks for relevant information, he may find a way to return.

Internet technology is definitely much more advanced than in my time, and search engines are surely different. I am a college student, and as long as the structure of the university hasn't changed, I will be able to find some useful information in the library.

Even if it is a story or urban legend, I can find a useful method by following the clues.

To put it another way, even if I don't find any information about time travel, I will definitely find some way to restore my memory. Maybe that memory I can't remember is the key to my time travel.

"Paul! Why aren't you up yet? There's a girl outside looking for you!"

Paul was lost in thought when a voice came from outside the door. After searching the memory that just popped up, he realized that the owner of the voice should be the owner of this place—Charlie.

Before Paul could answer, the black automatic door slid to the right without permission, and a blue-haired man wearing a navy blue jacket and a loose tie stood outside the door. Charlie kicked the door frame with his slippers, staring at Paul lying on the bed with a pair of dead eyes:

"I told you not to watch that stuff too late. Hurry up, the little girl has been waiting for you for a long time."

Wait, what did the owner of this body do before?

He struggled to get up, looked around, and found a coat on the table. Before he could put it on, Charlie threw a bag over to him, and Paul quickly caught it, the items in the bag jingling softly.

"This bag of stuff is going to be given to the guys from the Frontal Lobe Gang today. I've sent you the address."

"I wonder whether I dreamed I was a butterfly, or the butterfly dreamed it was me?"

(End of this chapter)