Chapter 217: A Chat
“That’s right... People here are all busy. Life in this world isn’t easy.” The monk agreed softly, his words sparse as he sat quietly beside Arthur.
...
“Oh, right...” As if something came to mind, he pointed at the figures seated before the statue. “Are you with them?”
“No... no...” The monk shook his head with a smile. “Oh!” As if suddenly remembering, he removed his glasses, revealing a peculiar pair of eyes.
His right eye was completely clouded, nothing but a dull, lifeless white. His left eye, however, was cybernetic, glowing with a crimson light.
A red point shone at its center, surrounded by rough metal plating—crude, makeshift, and unsettling.
“See, they oppose Cyberware, reject it... But I’m different. I’m grateful for it. Without this little thing, I’d be blind.” The monk smiled calmly, and even those eerie eyes couldn’t disturb the serenity surrounding him.
“Sorry... I mean... maybe I could help you.” Arthur said, glancing at the warped sight in his sockets. “Civilian-grade Cyberware doesn’t cost much... maybe just over a thousand.”
“No... no... friend.” The monk waved off the suggestion. “Just talking with me is enough... like this... a simple chat.”
Arthur didn’t press the matter, letting his gaze drift back to the swaying trees.
...
Another silence followed—until the monk spoke again.
“Remarkable...” he said suddenly, as though admiring a beautiful sight.
“What?” Arthur turned to him, puzzled. The monk hadn’t put his glasses back on, instead watching the scenery as Arthur did.
“I mean you,” the monk explained with a smile. “You’re remarkable for even thinking to help a stranger.”
“Ha...” Arthur waved it off, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Just... a small gesture. Sorry, but that’s all it is.”
“But it’s still remarkable, sir.” The monk didn’t linger on Arthur’s refusal of praise. “You’ve found yourself... haven’t you? That alone is remarkable.”
...
Another hush fell. The wind whispered through the treetops... rustling softly.
Were it not for the massive metal Buddha nearby, Arthur might have forgotten where he was.
“You’re still alive... aren’t you?” the monk asked again. This time, the words felt strangely cryptic.
“Of course!” Arthur looked at him with confusion, sensing an edge of provocation in talk of life and death. He was in a good mood now—otherwise, he wasn’t someone to trifle with.
“My apologies...” The monk spread his hands quickly. “It’s just scripture... Life, death... vague words, poorly explained.”
Arthur chuckled and gave a rueful apology of his own, then added, “People like us...” He shook his head, eyes drifting to the distance. “We don’t understand these profound things.”
“Such a simple question... so simple. You’re alive... remember? Just as you said. Now, and in the future... you’re alive.”
The monk’s words might have been too deep, but Arthur simply listened, surrounded by rare glimpses of nature. This time, he didn’t reply—he just listened.
“Isn’t that enough? To know this is enough for a person to go on living... To know this... is enough.”
...
Time slipped by. When Arthur finally stirred from his thoughts, the monk was gone.
Arthur glanced up at the sky, then rose and walked toward the park’s exit. That night, he planned to see the holographic projections at Corporate Plaza. He’d long wanted to get closer to them—they were part of Night City’s identity.
As for the monk’s words, he didn’t dwell on them. He tucked them away in a corner of his mind. He was middle-aged now—long past the age when odd philosophies could turn his world upside down.
Death had taught him plenty—not just his own brush with it, but all the deaths he had witnessed.
Death... it might seem far away, but it wasn’t complicated. The sun would rise, shining down on bodies... or graves. He’d seen it himself.
The motorcycle’s hum wasn’t loud. With the engine’s faint vibrations beneath him, Arthur parked on a street not far from the Corporate Plaza.
He strolled slowly, climbing the steps to the plaza’s elevated platform.
He’d driven past here countless times. Overhead, massive golden koi swam gracefully, gliding out of distant darkness only to vanish back into it.
Perhaps because it was still early, the place was nearly deserted. At the center of the circular walkway lay a huge glass dome.
The schools of koi swam directly above it, their shimmering movement reflecting across the surface below.
The beauty was slightly marred by the cold blaze of corporate ads towering around it... but this was Night City.
High above, spotlights cut through the night sky—so no stars could be seen here.
For the first time in a while, Arthur brought out his paper journal. Leaning against the railing, he pulled a pencil from his coat.
On the white pages, koi danced in the sky, skyscrapers rose around them... Perhaps it was the colors, but the drawing looked like an underwater city.
Arthur was pleased with it.
“We’ve walked this same old path again...”
He began to write.
“A dangerous path...
Someone’s going to die, maybe already dead... I don’t know. Death like this isn’t common, like... Davey?
Damn it, I can’t even remember. What was his last name? And Davey’s face... Did he fart when he drank? Maybe it was him... Yeah, he was a gambler, just like Swanson...
...
All I can do is wait... for the outcome. I could find shelter from the wind... probably useless... But I won’t give up.
That’s the way of the old trade. Farming’s harder these days... but I’d say the old trade is easier—if you’ve got a head on your shoulders. Hmm... I never liked thinking.
Old Arthur’s gotta grow up too, huh?”
Arthur stared blankly at the journal, dazed. He hadn’t written like this before. It felt like he was speaking to someone.
Closing it, he tucked the book back into his coat.
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