024: Settling Down

John made an online appointment, provided his budget, and drove directly to the location of the Livable Rental Company.

[Eden City - Danny Street]

This was only a twenty-minute drive from Gnaeus’s restaurant, yet it fell squarely within the territory of the Black Gold Gang. The Livable Rental Company was built right next door to a strip club.

While the voice on the phone had been a gentle electronic tone, John was actually greeted by a hulking, muscle-bound Black man. This was typical for small and medium-sized enterprises in Eden City: electronic voices were used to handle online business, while the actual staff on the ground were usually more down-to-earth. Only high-end establishments and highly profitable companies would invest in a dignified, durable robot for the front desk to maintain a polite smile for customers twenty-four hours a day.

The office was cramped. The walls were covered in graffiti and rap posters, piled high with fitness equipment, and there were even firearm parts scattered on the coffee table in the lounge area. The burly man checked the appointment information on his tablet and then led John away from the office, which was booming with deafening music.

The available properties were mostly located around Danny Street. This neighborhood was the Black Gold Gang’s turf. They were primarily people of color who adhered to the old American gang codes; most of them sported flashy cybernetic prosthetics and were obsessed with street art and gold jewelry.

Graffiti was the hallmark of the Black Gold Gang. Gang members were responsible for over eighty percent of the graffiti in Eden City. They possessed a strange desire for expression, loved to delve into personal styles, and would even leave signature tags at crime scenes, successfully landing themselves on the police department’s wanted list—a badge of honor for them. Drugs and firearms were rampant in the Black Gold Gang’s territory, and those without a bit of skill didn't venture there lightly.

John followed the car into an underground garage. As soon as he looked up, he saw spray-paint murals wrapping around the walls, executed in expensive, fluorescent gradient pigments. The elevator didn’t go directly there, so they had to take a detour. The burly man high-fived and greeted gang members along the way. John followed him silently; having seen his share of lead storms, he moved through the crowd with a calm, indifferent demeanor, and the Black Gold Gang members dared not provoke him easily.

As John passed through the elevated walkways, he noticed a commercial street outside the apartment building, fully equipped with everything from clothing and food to transportation. In a sense, it was quite livable.

The building housed communal tenants up to the tenth floor, with independent apartments above that. The corridors were incredibly lively. Druggies high on substances, idle drifters, and nightclub bouncers looking to pick up women after their shifts all congregated here. If a sex worker thought you looked decent enough, she might even hitch up her hem to offer an "overtime" application. John turned a blind eye to it all.

The gate of the old-fashioned elevator rattled and creaked. John and the burly man each occupied a corner; the light tube overhead flickered constantly as the digital display slowly slid toward the fifteenth floor.

Property leasing wasn't the Black Gold Gang’s main business, and the burly man’s work attitude was terrible. He took out his tablet to grant John visitor access, allowing him to enter and exit the independent apartments above the tenth floor at will.

The rooms on this floor were fully furnished.

The burly man turned on all the equipment to prove they were in working order, then sat on the sofa and started playing music for himself. Ready-made electronic contracts and authorized keycards were laid out on the table. When the man saw John had finished looking around the room, he pulled out a portable sensory immersion device, which allowed for an immersive virtual tour of all vacant properties once worn.

John was stunned and asked, "You could have just taken that out earlier. Why make me take the trip?"

"I have to clock in."

The man’s reason was maddening, and there was an indescribable sense of dissonance when he pulled out his electronic employee badge. He wasn't the type to be ruthless and concise; he was just purely dim-witted.

"The rooms are all about the same; this one is the closest," the man said with a sharp, focused gaze. "If you’re willing to increase your budget, there are better ones across the street, just two blocks away. Want to go?"

John didn't respond. He had many places where his money needed to go, and renting was just one of them; being able to rest well and organize his supplies was enough.

"I’ll move when I earn more later."

John signed the contract directly, placed his palm on the scanner, and paid the rent for the quarter after confirming his biometric data. He had browsed the rental websites of Eden City; given his current savings, the apartment provided by the Black Gold Gang was the most cost-effective option. He wondered if Gnaeus had put in a good word for him—the actual price John paid was 15% lower than the bill.

The apartment was primarily gray and blue, with rounded edges on the corners and various hidden light strips for illumination, leaving no exposed bulbs. A cylindrical projector hung from the ceiling of the living room, allowing the screen to be viewed from any corner of the room. If a sensory immersion chip were inserted, one could enjoy blockbuster movies right on the sofa. The shower, bed, and desk were all standard. These low-cost apartments didn't include kitchens—people living in Eden City were always busy with endless calls and work, so a room with an automatic burrito maker and a microwave that wouldn't explode was plenty.

John opened the room he was most looking forward to: the workshop.

An exquisite safe house lay before him. The walls were lined with thickened soundproofing material so he could safely use the workbench to modify equipment. It also featured industrial magnetic shielding and a firewall to block remote hacking attempts. Three walls were covered in pegboards, where he could hang his firearms and tools. The computer and monitor were also provided as a set.

John did a cursory scan and, as expected, the equipment in the low-cost apartment was filled with plug-ins and viruses. But that wasn't a big problem. John only needed to connect a data cable for a physical hack, and his "Black Light" would make it cleaner than his own face.

Overall, the place was... not bad at all!

John sent a message to Gnaeus to let him know he was safe. He lay on the sofa, went online to order some daily necessities, and then visited a public pharmaceutical website.

The logo of Gaia Cell Corporation slowly unfolded on the screen. It was the largest biotechnology company in Eden City, with medical services permeating every social stratum. As soon as a customer paid online, drones would deliver all grades of medication to their door. Gaia Cell’s online diagnostic system was also incredibly powerful, capable of resolving over eighty percent of common ailments and providing corresponding treatment plans. After successfully driving public hospitals into bankruptcy and leaving the poor to suffer, they had locked the wealthy into their own private clinics.

They had even monopolized medical rescue services. Wealthy clients could purchase memberships and enjoy the most comfortable treatment and rescue services according to their annual fee packages. Biometric chips would upload the client's physical condition to the company via the network. No matter where in the city a client was injured, as long as they were still breathing, the company would dispatch a professional combat team to snatch them out of the line of fire.

John cursed, remarking on how great it was to be rich. His ribs and internal organs needed medication to recover. He was reluctant to seek medical treatment in an unfamiliar neighborhood, and it was impossible to drive halfway across Eden City to ask for help from Rian Randall just for a bone.

Funds had to be spent where they mattered most. John felt that safe recuperation was the key. Although the companies were all bloodsuckers, they certainly delivered when paid.

Before he had even finished his "combat bath" after placing the order, he received an access notification that the delivery had arrived. Logistics drones didn't just hover stupidly at the door; they had docking points similar to relay stations to ensure they wouldn't be illegally intercepted or shot down remotely.

John confirmed his customer information. Two metal boxes glided in from afar, hovering to allow for a signature as long as there was one square meter of stable ground.

[Equipment: Ring-Propeller Drone]
[Manufacturer: Iron-Bond Logistics]

The bed and blankets were compressed cotton, nothing special, but the medication was the priority.

[Medication: Super Healing Agent]

The items were packed in pump-style injectors, accompanied by illustrated instructions, with links to watch video demonstrations on the official website. There were disclaimers, but they were meaningless.

Just as John finished signing for the delivery, the doorbell in the corridor rang again—the takeout he had just ordered had also arrived successfully...

Outside the window, neon lights shimmered, and light-up signs stood in rows. The Eden City news played overhead. There was no smell of grease or sweat, no clamor piercing through the walls, and the leather sofa was soft and comfortable. He could slowly enjoy a supreme pizza with double bacon.

John felt a sense of comfort in settling down, and amidst this pleasant peace of mind, a boundless longing for the future began to stir. He pulled out the injector, administered the dose, and drifted off to sleep against the sofa.