They were back in TMC Sector 13/6.
By now Shinonome had fully blended in, clothes-wise, with the sector.
Synthetic-fiber jacket, casual suit. Not a hint of out-of-place in Sector 13/6.
Beria, on the other hand, had wanted something more girly and gone with a synthetic-fiber jumper skirt and blouse. She looked like she was wearing a school uniform from somewhere.
The two of them were visiting a clinic in TMC Sector 13/6.
Longmen Internal Medicine, Surgery & Psychiatry Clinic.
That’s a mess, Shinonome thought.
There was no way a place this size had that many doctors on staff. None at all.
But this was definitely where they’d been referred. It had to be trustworthy.
They went up to the second floor of a mixed-use building whose first floor was hung with neon signs reading CHINESE, EXQUISITE, SYNTHETIC.
And they pushed open the door marked: Longmen Internal Medicine, Surgery & Psychiatry Clinic.
“Welcome, patient.”
A woman with the same plastered-on smile as the man at Kaimiya City Tower, and the man who’d driven Jane Doe’s car, came up to greet them.
“Please fill out the intake form.”
What was presumably the intake form arrived as a tablet.
“Allow me to take your temperature.”
A quick beep against Beria’s forehead.
“36.4.”
With that, the woman returned to the front desk.
“I don’t recognize any of these vaccines.”
“Just make something up.”
The form listed disease names neither of them had ever heard of — cardiopulmonary hemorrhagic fever, nanomachine-allergic hepatitis, and the like — but they ticked the boxes to say Beria had received all of them.
It wasn’t as though Beria, being a Demon King, would ever catch anything of the sort.
“Done.”
“Thank you. Please wait a moment.”
The waiting room was empty except for Shinonome and Beria.
“Will you be wanting BCI surgery today?”
“Yes.”
“Then please sign the BCI surgery disclaimer and consent form.”
Another tablet.
“‘BCI surgery carries a rare risk of damage to the central nervous system…’ How many pages is this?”
“Read all of it.”
“Fiiine.”
Beria read through the ten-plus pages of BCI surgery risks and side effects.
“Says there’s a chance mold could get into your brain.”
“Ugh.”
Shinonome committed then and there to never getting BCI surgery.
“Alright. Signed.”
“Please wait a moment.”
After a short while, a man with tattoos that made clear he was not in a respectable line of work came out cradling his right arm.
“Appreciate it.”
“Take care of yourself.”
The tattooed man bowed once and left.
“This way to the examination room.”
The woman led them and Shinonome and Beria stood.
“I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Just in case.”
Beria said one thing, Shinonome said the other.
“Next patient~”
A flat, low-energy young woman’s voice drifted out, and they went into the examination room.
“Okay. Which of you is getting the BCI surgery? Both?”
“Wait — are those… cat ears?”
There was a female doctor.
A young woman in her mid-twenties, slender, wearing clean scrubs and slacks. Bright blonde hair.
But what drew the eye were the cat ears — the same blonde as her hair — growing right out of the top of her head.
“Yes, cat ears. Problem? Are you an anti-biomod activist?”
“N-no. Cat ears?”
“Unusual, are they. It’s cosmetic surgery. I introduced domestic cat genes into my own cells using a plasmid vector, expressed them, and grew cat ears. I didn’t rip them off an actual cat, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop staring at me like that.”
“Ah — sorry.”
The cat-eared doctor was giving him a flat look. Shinonome redirected his gaze.
“I’m Wang Lanling. Doctor here at Longmen Clinic. I handle everything from common colds to gunshot wounds, BCI surgery, and e-drug addiction treatment. First visit for you two.”
The cat-eared doctor — Wang Lanling — said this and looked over the intake form from earlier.
“The vaccine records are fabricated. A few of those vaccines have serious lasting side effects.”
“We’re fine.”
“Fine. Another thing this clinic prides itself on is asking no questions about who you are or what you do. If you get hurt on the job, come here. My clinic is the cheapest and the most trustworthy. Other doctors have been known to lift one of your kidneys while you’re under.”
Shinonome felt a small wave of despair at the realization that even basic healthcare couldn’t be trusted.
“So. Who’s getting the BCI surgery?”
“Me.”
“Hmm. The recommended minimum age for BCI surgery is eighteen.”
“I just turned eighteen.”
Beria looked, by any reasonable estimate, somewhere around thirteen or fourteen years old.
“If that’s what you say, that’s what we’ll go with. Any family history of e-drug addiction?”
“None.”
“Good. These tendencies are considered highly heritable.”
Wang Lanling worked through the intake form.
“Nothing looks problematic, but I’ll do an MRI to be safe. Don’t worry — it’s included in the surgery fee.”
They were currently uninsured. Piling on expensive tests would be rough on the wallet.
“After the scan, the surgery. BCI surgery is something everyone gets done as an adult. Lower risk than an appendectomy.”
Wang Lanling said this and took Beria off to the examination room.
“You’ll be alright on your own from here?”
“Fine, fine. I’ll call if anything comes up.”
“Got it.”
Shinonome went back to the waiting room and picked up a paper manga volume that had been left out. The most recent one was from 2035. Apparently paper manga hadn’t been published since then.
Or maybe it was just that none had made it here, he thought, clinging to a small hope.
The other world had been terrible for entertainment too.
No manga, no television. No internet. The only entertainment was bards singing songs no one could make much sense of.
But it looked like this world was going to be rough in its own way.
Here, everything assumed you’d had BCI surgery.
Several hours must have passed. No other patients came in. Time just moved.
“Done~”
Beria finally came out of the examination room.
“The nanomachines need three hours to integrate. After that, you can connect to the Matrix.”
Wang Lanling said this from outside the examination room, loud enough for Shinonome to hear.
“The protective cover for the BCI port is on me. Fine to get it wet in the shower, but avoid contaminated fluids.”
“Understood.”
Beria came jogging over to Shinonome.
“Look, look. BCI port’s done!”
“Ugh. That’s disturbing.”
“That’s harsh.”
Shinonome recoiled involuntarily at the sight of the BCI port punched into the back of Beria’s neck.
“Now then. The surgery fee — 7,000 new yen.”
“Here.”
“Confirmed.”
A few chips changed hands, and the woman at the front desk processed the payment.
“Free follow-up for any post-op reactions for the first fourteen days, so keep that in mind. Take care.”
Wang Lanling saw them to the door, and they left the clinic.
“Want to try connecting to the net right away?”
“It’s called the Matrix.”
“So the internet just stopped being a thing?”
“The internet is still there. The Matrix is what the space on the internet is called now. Instead of looking at it through a display, you connect directly to your brain and see it that way. That space is what they call the Matrix.”
“You picked all that up already?”
“The cat-ears doctor explained it during the surgery.”
Which meant she’d drilled the BCI port open under local anesthetic, Shinonome realized, and shuddered.
“In three hours let’s try an internet café. Until then it’s back to the coffin hotel. There’s a lot I want you to look into. I’m counting on you.”
“Count away, low-tech.”
“Tch.”
Getting the low-tech treatment from Beria too — a click of his tongue came out before he could stop it.
“You should just get the BCI surgery too. Once we’ve saved up, anyway.”
“No. I am never connecting my brain directly to the internet.”
Shinonome declared this, made his way through Sector 13/6, and checked back into the coffin hotel.
Maybe he’d swing by a bookstore later — if those still existed — he thought.
Or maybe an internet café would have manga too, he considered, lying in his coffin and letting his mind drift.
……………………