March 6, 2068
Northern Edge of the Mojave Wastes
Alex Mitchell (Volkov) POV
"The calculated success rate of your plan is ten percent," Vega said again, her voice cool and matter-of-fact. "And that's not even counting the more likely consequences. Alex… maybe you should reconsider."
"We've been over this," I replied, still focused on securing my device to the specially modified pedestal — rigged with every kind of sensor and monitor I could scrounge, and wired for remote control. "I've accounted for every possible outcome. Even the impossible ones."
"Do what you want," she muttered, her voice suddenly softer — almost hurt.
That stopped me cold. Vega had never spoken to me like that before. Not with that tone.
A tight, unfamiliar feeling crept into my chest. Guilt? Maybe. But then that smug little voice in the back of my mind — the one that always thinks it's right — whispered,
You're not doing anything wrong. You're doing what needs to be done.
Still, the doubt had already taken root. Vega had a point — this could go sideways fast. But I'd checked everything. Triple-checked. I'd accounted for complete device failure, energy feedback loops, even the spontaneous formation of a localized wormhole.
And yet, despite all that prep… my hand still hovered inches above the activation switch.
I hadn't expected to hesitate.
"I need to do this, Vega. You know I do…" My fingers twitched toward the control panel, stopping just short of the button.
"Alex, I get it," she said quietly. "But what you're about to do is dangerous."
"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me." She didn't answer.
For a few more seconds, I just stood there — caught between logic and fear.
Then, with a sharp breath, I hit the button.
The device spun to life, slowly at first, each component whirring up in sequence. Nothing happened at first. But then, just a few feet away, a patch of air shimmered — warping into something that looked like a bubble. It was perfectly transparent, but the space around it began to bend, light warping into a visible sphere — like heat rising off asphalt, only contained and focused. Inside, reality twisted.
That was phase one. According to all my models, it should be stable.
It was the next part I wasn't so sure about.
"Here we go," I whispered, licking my dry lips, eyes locked on the scanner feed projected by my wrist hologram.
"Alex," Vega cut in, her voice tense, "injector readings are deviating from the baseline." She pulled up a visual on my holo-monitor — raw data pouring in like rain.
"We're still within tolerances. The magnetic compression segment is stable, so we're good to go." I swallowed hard. "Come on, Casimir effect… don't fail me now."
The tension in the air was thick enough to grab. Static hummed against my skin, prickling like anticipation had a charge of its own. Something was about to happen. I could feel it.
This latest project made everything I'd built before look like a kindergarten science fair experiment.
It all started about a month ago, during yet another attempt to expand the storage capacity of nanomachines. Somewhere along the way, I stumbled on an old, obscure book outlining the theoretical principles of a warp drive — or more accurately, how one should work. The moment I cracked it open, the idea grabbed me by the throat and refused to let go.
Naturally, I dove headfirst into a virtual design sim — just to scratch the itch.
And that little detour? Yeah. It escalated fast.
Before I knew it, I'd pieced together what looked like a working prototype. A device that, at least in theory, could create a stable sphere in an alternate layer of reality. The idea was to use that pocket dimension to host the main structure of a colony. The so-called "bubble" would hold its form with help from another device I'd built — one that operated on principles kinda like a Faraday cage. It created a stable internal environment, insulated from outside chaos.
At least, that was the theory.
Far as I knew, no one had ever actually tried something like this. Not officially, anyway.
The moment the device entered Phase Two, the air inside the bubble started sparking — like static trapped in a cyclone. Then came the hum — low, subtle at first, but unmistakable. A minute later, my sensors went haywire, redlining across the board. And just when I started thinking something was about to go very wrong… it did.
The energy output spiked way past anything I'd modeled, and then — boom. Total power drop.
For a second, everything went still.
Then the air cracked with a thunderclap so loud it left my ears ringing. A wave of displaced pressure slammed into me. But before panic could kick in, the secondary sensors kicked on and confirmed magnetic containment field deployment.
Translation: we were hitting the final stage.
I stood frozen for a few more minutes, watching. Waiting.
Then the sensors flashed green — cycle complete.
"Vega, are you seeing this?" I asked, a grin spreading across my face. "Vega?" I called again, noticing the silence on the comm.
"You actually did it…" she said at last, her synthetic voice threaded with something I'd never heard before — was that awe? Disbelief? Like some part of her code had just rewritten itself.
Like I'd just broken reality.
"Now I just need to eliminate the side effects from the transfer — and figure out how to speed the whole thing up," I muttered, logging notes into my digital journal as I approached the device.
"Also," I added, thinking out loud, "I need to test what happens if the device takes damage. And what happens if I cut power entirely…"
One thing at a time.
First: clean up the aftershocks.
Then? Everything else.
***
March 6, 2068
North Glen, Night City
Lucy Mitchell (Kushinada) POV
Strolling through the winding streets of Glen, Lucy watched people go about their lives — or at least, the parts they were willing to show. Every district in Night City had its own rhythm, and Heywood was no exception. But one thing tied them all together: trash. Literal and figurative.
Night City was filthy in more ways than one, and after a year here, Lucy had seen enough to say that with certainty.
The moment her father let her start going out alone, she didn't waste it. Life inside the megatower had been grinding her down for months — gray, repetitive, suffocating. So she grabbed every chance to step outside, even if it meant being shadowed by her overly serious, chronically irritating stepsister, who treated the job like she was guarding a fugitive.
Still, it beat being locked up inside.
"You hear what's going on in the city?"
A voice nearby broke her train of thought — just one of the passersby.
"There's always some shit going down. C'mon, surprise me — what happened this time?"
The conversation caught Lucy's attention. Curious, she slowed her pace and let herself fall in behind the two men, staying just close enough to listen without drawing attention.
"Word is, three days ago, some Tiger Claws hit a strip club in Watson. Don't have all the details, but one of the dancers ended up dead."
"Pfft. That's barely news. Shit like that happens every other night." The second guy snorted, clearly unimpressed.
"Yeah, maybe. But it didn't stop there. The club owner? She grabbed an axe and butchered three of the Tigers right there on the spot. Today, she hung their bodies outside her front door."
"Get the hell outta here." The first guy didn't even try to hide his disbelief. "Everyone in Night City knows how that ends. By sundown, she'll be in pieces at some Scav chop-shop."
"Maybe, choom. But who gives a shit what happens to one suicidal whore? One more or less doesn't make a difference." He laughed and nudged his buddy. "Plenty more where she came from."
"Can't argue with that. Now I kinda wanna see what happens to that dumb bitch…"
As the two gossip-hungry ghouls vanished into the crowd, Lucy leaned back against a wall, shaking her head in quiet disgust.
That kind of casual cruelty always made her stomach turn. Unlike most people here, she still had something resembling empathy.
But even so… she knew better than to get involved.
She understood how this city worked. Intervening — even for the right reasons — usually just made things worse. For everyone.
And that kind of naive heroism? It got you killed.
"This crap just never ends, does it?"
Lucy let out a frustrated hiss and kicked a loose rock across the pavement.
"What exactly?" Roxy asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"The corps. The city… people in general, honestly." Lucy pushed off the wall with a huff. "I think I'm finally starting to understand what Dad meant when he said the world's going insane. You feel it too, right, Roxy?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Maybe…" Roxy shrugged, a little uncertain. "But I think I've already gotten used to it," she added quietly.
"Huh. Guess that makes us kind of alike." Lucy sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear — a motion too practiced, too automatic. "No point wasting a day like this on empty talk. We don't exactly have time to kill."
"Yeah..." Roxy murmured, stepping quietly into stride beside her sister.
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