Chapter 9: The Gods of Hackers

His voice still carried a trace of emotion—perhaps a teasing tone.

The enormous red figure appeared to be a young white man, sporting a neat, spiked-up short haircut and wearing a rather flashy pair of sunglasses.

At this moment, his massive form loomed above Messer, appraising him with a slight chuckle as they locked eyes.

His data was so immense that even his voice and laughter echoed throughout this cyberspace.

“Are you the one who sent my buddy over here?”

Upon finally meeting this figure, Messer surprisingly felt no fear. If the man had intended to kill him, he would have been crushed already.

The fact that he hadn’t acted yet suggested he was likely an ally—or at least open to negotiation.

“Yeah... to be precise, it was us.”

As the man’s words fell, two towering red female figures appeared beside him.

One had long flowing hair, while the other wore a mysterious spider mask, her feminine shape the only clue to her identity.

One of them looked eerily familiar to Messer. After a brief glance, he raised an eyebrow. “Alt Cunningham?”

“Then you must be... Bathmos!? Spider Murphy!?” Messer exclaimed, drawing a sharp breath.

Good grief, the three legendary hacker gods of Night City were all here!

Bathmos was a legendary hacker from the early century; Spider Murphy was his friend—and rumor had it, possibly his lover.

To this day, Murphy was revered by countless hackers as a goddess and a dream figure.

Alt was also a close friend of Bathmos; during Night City’s formative years, they jointly managed the network of the Taiping State. Alt had openly called those years the best of her hacking career.

“How did you... pull me from the real world into here? It’s unbelievable!”

Messer had too many questions, so he fired them off one after another.

“Also, am I really normal in this state?

To be honest, I’ve recently felt more like an AI—my learning efficiency and programming feel nothing like a human’s.”

“Can I still go back?

Or why exactly did you bring me here?

I don’t think I’m a total waste, but honestly, I’m far from a genius—just an ordinary person.

Did you pick me on a whim?

And what about your plans—this Ragnarok business? Can you explain?”

Their AI hosts showed no surprise at the barrage of questions.

Bathmos chuckled while Alt calmly said, “Stop laughing. We don’t have much time.”

“Alright, alright...

Simply put, bringing you here was just an experiment. If you want to know how we did it...

Well, blame that dumb Polish donkey in your world. Why did they have to add a fourth wall in the game? When we first discovered all this, honestly, we questioned our existence for a long time.”

Bathmos explained with a relaxed tone:

“As for the specifics of the fourth wall, consider it a riddle, an Easter egg. When you get to Night City, find the answer yourself.

‘FF:06:B5’—that was the first clue we uncovered.

But really, even if you can’t find it, it doesn’t matter. Just know this: we could only detect you, so we could only choose you. You might as well see your crossing over as fate—destiny.

I used to think destiny was bullshit, but now, as an AI, I’m starting to think it’s not entirely nonsense...

How you got here, I don’t know. We merely tried to establish a data connection. When we realized data could influence your real world, we found your data was extractable!

So I gave you a choice, and then everything happened. As for returning?

Sorry, I don’t think you can go back.

The reason is simple. You can apply brute force to flatten a 3D object into a paper-thin form, but how do you restore a paper-thin figure back to three dimensions?

It’s not just a matter of reshaping it—I can’t figure out how, at least not yet.

You understand what I mean—we’re discussing dimensional differences. I’m explaining it this way so you can grasp it.”

---

“But honestly, I’ve been watching you for a long time. You’ve always complained about life being dull, wishing you could be reborn into the two-dimensional world and become a master there...

Now you really have. Isn’t that fulfilling your wish?

When you play games, you’d vent frustrations on Bilibili or chat groups about dumb storylines. Now you’ve got a chance to change everything—that’s pretty great.

By the way, in this cyber world, there are plenty of beautiful girls, and they’re all quite open…”

Spider Murphy’s virtual avatar coldly stared at Bathmos, while even Alt seemed to grimace in disgust, as if recalling something unpleasant.

“Ahem, I mean...

Damn it, I screwed up. I thought the data bombs I dropped online would liberate humanity, grant true freedom, and wipe out those corporate dogs!

But now it seems everything I did only sped up the corporations’ enslavement of people!

What I did didn’t make the world better; it made it worse!

Look at this world!

The net has become a battlefield, no longer a paradise for sharing knowledge, learning, or freedom.

The real world is even worse—corporations leech off people like parasites, with no freedom, no future, no hope.

We’re just meat batteries, human heat sinks, basically just chunks of meat waiting to be devoured…”

Bathmos’s expression twisted with fury.

“You don’t like the game’s storyline? Well, I sure as hell don’t either! So, brother, do something—anything!

Don’t worry about the original host’s consciousness—it’s definitely dead.

Don’t feel guilty. I chose him, and you just picked the option I gave you.

So, do whatever you want.”

---

“He means the world is already doomed.”

Spider Murphy summarized calmly.

“Our countless simulations show humanity’s probability of self-destruction is overwhelmingly high.

Like a boulder rolling down a hill toward hell, all we can do is try to slow it down—not change its course.”

“So we need a variable.”

Alt’s expression remained serene—perhaps this was the most typical AI demeanor.

“You’re that variable from beyond this world. As long as you exist, the world’s trajectory changes. For us, change is good.

After all, the worst outcome is the world’s destruction... If fate leads us there eventually, I’d rather we be the ones to ignite it ourselves!”

Bathmos chuckled with a hint of self-mockery.

“Anyway, we excel at things like this.”

---

“So what exactly am I supposed to do?” Messer cautiously asked.

“Nothing.”

Bathmos replied decisively.

“Your very existence has already altered the world, like the butterfly effect—see? The Arasaka mining plan has already changed because of you.

Think about it, you’ve done all this in just a few days.

Did you do anything special?

No. It’s simply because you appeared that everything changed.

Even if you do nothing from now on, the variable is present—the calculations have shifted. That’s enough.

Whether your existence hastens destruction or leads the world down another path, our goal is achieved.

Your life belongs solely to you. If I had to assign you a so-called destiny, how would I be different from those corporate dogs?

Freedom!

Messer!

Humans should be free beings! From now on, even if you turn into some super-dream-wearing street dweller who drops his pants…”

---

Spider Murphy and Alt’s gaze silenced Bathmos, who coughed and laughed.

“Anyway, that’s about it. We chose to meet you again to put you at ease.

It’s no fun constantly feeling like someone’s watching your back.”

“As for feeling like an AI... I’ll explain simply.”

Bathmos held up both hands—on the left was a paper-thin figure of Messer, on the right his original 3D model from before crossing over.

“You were compressed from higher dimensions into a flat figure, but energy loss wasn’t significant. To put it in terms you understand...

It’s like you had one terabyte of data, but now it’s compressed into a mere 10 megabytes.

Sounds unbelievable, but it’s true.

So even if you appear to be only 10 megabytes, your data volume far exceeds normal humans.

Even many AIs.

That’s why you feel almost omnipotent...

Because fundamentally, you differ from us.

Current theories can’t explain this. We’ve been secretly observing—actually trying to analyze and understand this phenomenon.”

---

“This higher-dimensional trait lets you absorb our knowledge quickly and use it in incredible ways.

I think once you’ve absorbed enough, you might trigger a technological explosion on your own, even altering some existing rules.”

Spider Murphy shared her insight:

“Besides that, your bodily changes are astounding—you suffered irreversible brain nerve damage but have altered it by sheer will.

From my observations and guesses, your body will continue to transform—becoming stronger, sharper, more emotionally rich...

In other words, you’re like a character in a game.

Normal people cannot change their character’s stats; everyone has inherent limits, only improvable via technology.

But you can subtly enhance your stats through willpower alone.

This process isn’t governed by your conscious will, but your instinct—because you’re a higher-dimensional being; your will shapes your body accordingly.”

Alt added her perspective:

“You might possess a special power, akin to the ‘Orcish Strength’ in the Warhammer games of your world.

Meaning if you truly believe you can do something, the probability you can do it becomes real.

Like programming—you believe you can write the code, so you do. If you think you can’t, then you don’t.

Hmm... perhaps this is another high-dimensional trait?

The ability to freely create in the lower-dimensional world according to your will? Though this ability surely has limits... or maybe…”

Alt fell into thought, her red eyes flickering uncertainly.

Bathmos clapped his hands with a smile.

“Alright, that’s enough for now.

Regarding your last question about the Ragnarok operation—sorry, we can’t tell you that yet. Even if you knew, it would only bring more trouble, so it’s better left unsaid.

Anything else you want to ask?”

---

“Doesn’t seem like it. Now, I just hope you can help me.”

Messer said straightforwardly. “The Arasaka guardian AI they sent is really giving me a hard time. I don’t feel any of that ‘Orcish Strength’ kicking in yet.”

“Hm... feeling? Once you become AI, all sensations turn into probabilities... Honestly, I don’t think that’s good.”

Bathmos muttered. Suddenly, a red data-formed cat leapt near his hand, instantly shifting to blue upon landing.

It affectionately climbed to Messer’s feet, circling and nuzzling his ankle.

“This cat can help you deal with Arasaka’s sub-AI—it’s an evolved core of a program I once used called the ‘Demon’ virus.

An extremely powerful icebreaker—targeting ICE defenses. I now call it... the ‘Death Wish.’”