Malfunctioning Utopia

Chapter 70: Hilda

Sun Jack writhed on the floor, clutching his prosthetic arm as his face contorted in pain. Groans escaped his lips. “AA! AA! Quick! Take this prosthetic off!”

AA, curled up in the sink, blearily rubbed her eyes and woke up. The moment she saw the situation, any trace of sleep or drunkenness disappeared from her face. She leapt down, grabbed her toolkit, and swiftly disassembled the prosthetic. Soon, Sun Jack was back to being one-armed.

But even without the prosthetic, Sun Jack could still feel intense pain in his missing right arm and hand.

“Boss, this isn’t a prosthetic issue—it’s phantom limb pain,” AA explained.

Kneeling beside him, AA pulled out a painkiller from the strap on Sun Jack’s leg and injected it into the stump of his arm.

As the medication coursed through his body, Sun Jack exhaled deeply. His face was pale, and his upper body was drenched in sweat. Taking the cup of water offered by Tapai, he panted heavily before asking, “What’s phantom limb pain?”

“When a person loses a limb, their brain’s cortex undergoes functional reorganization. The sensory area for the face expands into the area that used to represent the missing arm,” Tapai explained matter-of-factly.

“Speak human, will you?”

“Boss, your arm is gone, but your brain still thinks it’s there. The nerve signals it sends out have no place to go, so your body glitches out,” AA clarified.

Sun Jack let out a bitter laugh. “Why does every damned problem have to happen to me?”

“It’s not just you, Boss,” AA said, shaking her head. “Phantom limb pain affects about 50% of amputees. The severity just varies.”

“So, you’re telling me that everyone in this city with prosthetic replacements experiences this?”

“Pretty much,” she replied.

“And how do they deal with it when it happens?”

AA didn’t answer. She simply waved the painkiller syringe in her hand.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sun Jack said, exasperated. “Won’t overusing this stuff cause issues?”

Tapai scanned the label on the syringe. “The instructions don’t mention any adverse effects from overuse.”

“Not a big deal, though. Modern technology is advanced enough—you could always get a cortical surgery at the hospital.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Surgery beats popping painkillers forever.”

“But, Boss,” AA hesitated, “a cortical surgery for phantom limb pain costs 25@. It’s expensive. I thought about selling my hand to replace it with a cheap prosthetic but decided against it because of this issue.” Rά₦ΟβËꞩ

“F***!” Sun Jack swore. He glanced at the detached prosthetic. “This whole thing feels like a scam—one problem leading to another.”

The issue wasn’t insurmountable. After all, it was just phantom pain. But Sun Jack didn’t like leaving potential dangers unchecked. What if the pain struck at a critical moment during a fight?

“What’s your plan, Boss?” AA asked cautiously.

“What else? Earn money as quickly as possible and get the surgery done. Can’t risk leaving this unresolved,” Sun Jack replied, handing the prosthetic to AA to reattach.

“Every time I save up a little, it feels like this city just swallows it up. The bills keep piling higher.”

With the cost of addressing his amnesia factored in, he now needed 106.5@ to afford both surgeries—a staggering amount.

“No problem, just a minor hurdle. We’ll make it big as mercenaries,” Sun Jack said, patting AA on the head.

“Mm-hmm!” AA nodded enthusiastically.

“Well, since you’ve both sobered up,” Tapai interjected with his head slightly tilted, “let me show you something.”

“What are you planning now?” Sun Jack asked warily.

Tapai turned his head and projected footage of the two drunk on the wall.

“Bro! Hey! Bro! Hey!” The video showed a very inebriated Sun Jack perched on Tapai’s shoulders, using his head as a makeshift microphone. Meanwhile, a shirtless AA served as a chaotic background dancer, running around and yelling, “I’m hot! I’m so hot! I need water! I need water!”

“What’s wrong with you two? Were you even drinking alcohol? =_=“ Tapai teased.

“Turn it off! Shut it off now!” Sun Jack shouted, mortified. He vowed never to drink again.

“Shut it off? But the best part’s coming up!” The video continued, showing AA drunkenly opening the fridge, only to faceplant into it with a loud “thud.”

“Third Disciple! What are you sneaking behind your master’s back?!” Sun Jack shouted drunkenly in the video as he crammed his head into the fridge alongside her.

“Shut it off! Turn it off now!” Mortified beyond belief, Sun Jack and AA lunged at Tapai, covering his camera with their hands.

Unfazed, Tapai uploaded the video to every display in the apartment, from the TV to the computer screen. The small apartment filled with images of the two drunken fools.

When the chaos finally died down, Sun Jack sat at the coffee table, his hair a disheveled mess, eating the last of some Ke-style cuisine with a weary expression.

Next to him, AA repeatedly knocked her forehead against the table. “Ugh… Boss, my head hurts. I’m never drinking again.”

“Mine hurts too. Let’s take some painkillers. I didn’t realize the booze in the Metropolis was this strong.”

Sun Jack deeply regretted celebrating last night. It had been a costly and self-inflicted punishment.

“Hello? Song 6PUS?” Sun Jack called, only to realize the other party wasn’t responding. Confused, he logged into Song 6PUS’s livestream, where the man was enthusiastically teaching his audience how to become a successful broker.

“Yo~! Bro! Long time no see!” Song 6PUS greeted him through the system interface, grinning to reveal several new gold teeth.

“Got any gigs?” Sun Jack asked directly.

“Bro~ Seriously? You’re worse at saving than me! What do you even spend your money on?”

“Cut the crap. Just tell me if there’s any work—nothing too dangerous. I’m broke.”

“Good jobs don’t just fall into your lap, you know. The high-pay, low-risk ones get snatched up fast,” Song 6PUS said lazily.

“Isn’t finding gigs your job as a broker? Just find me something safe, even if it pays less. I’m sick of all this high-stakes nonsense.”

As Sun Jack spoke, he noticed his computer screen flashing.

“Hm?” He walked over and saw a message: “Help me! Get me out!”

“This… spam?”

Having lived in the Metropolis for a while, Sun Jack was no stranger to junk messages. Messages claiming to be from sentient AI needing money to “rule the world” were old scams.

Just as he was about to delete it, another message arrived: “Help me! I’m Hilda!”

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