Cyberpunk: 2525

About This Novel

There's something wrong with my golden finger. There are four poisonous tongue pendants who call themselves "seniors" stuffed in my mind. Every day they either quarrel or encourage me to commit suicide. What's even more outrageous is the chip itself, an artificially retarded person with no emotions, who always advises me in the most scientific tone: "After calculation, drilling into the sewer in front is the optimal solution." When all the hounds in the city moved for me, I listened to the butterflies in my head and finally made up my mind. Okay, then let these unreliable "teammates" know who is the talker of this body.

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