VI
What Keeps Us Whole
Night City, 2077
The clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and machine oil. As always, it was generally a mess. Cybernetics were scattered across every available surface, and there were several racks of hanging prosthetic arms and legs casting strange shadows around the darkened workshop.
Sofie sat on the edge of the padded exam chair, bare arms resting across her knees while Navarro traced her fingers over the metal plates that ran down Sofie’s spine. The ripperdoc clicked her tongue and leaned back on her stool, pushing the insect-like goggles she wore up onto her forehead.
“You know,” Navarro said, “most people who come in here are begging me to chip the latest toys into what remains of their original bodies. You’re the only patient I’ve ever had to beg to update their chrome.”
“So you keep telling me,” Sofie said, pulling her shirt back down to cover her exposed spine. “But it’s all still working just fine.”
“Barely,” Navarro countered. She crossed her arms, tapping her fingers on her shoulder. “Half of the implants you’re running were designed for a teenager, Sofie.” Her voice was stern, but undertones betrayed the genuine concern she held for her patient.
Sofie didn’t respond. She pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to retreat into a shell she didn’t have. At least ten percent of her body was made of metal, none of it by her own choice. Sofie dreaded ever volunteering to raise that number, and the thought of even swapping out the parts that had already been replaced sent shivers down her spine.
On some level she was grateful for the implants, they had allowed her to survive and make her way in Night City, and had allowed her to discover the joys of surfing the Net in cyberspace, after all. But still… Her hands were not her own. Her eyes were metal orbs. Even her brain had been altered. She tried not to think about it, but there was no escape from her own body.
“Look, I understand how you feel, kiddo,” Navarro said, “But sympathy ain’t gonna keep you from running your chrome into the dirt. Liv was kind enough to let you get away without upgrading or changing anything as a kid, but you really should have upgraded everything at least ten years ago.”
Sofie lifted her head, ready to protest that at not of her cyberware was that old, but Navarro kept going.
“And yeah, I know Liv did update some of your chrome back when they got to town, but that’s like putting a bandaid over a bullet wound—before pulling the lead out or stitching it up. It’s not going to do any good in the long run.”
Sofie put her head back down. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just…” She trailed off, words lost somewhere deep in her chest.
Navarro leaned forward, crossing one leg over the other and leaning her elbow on that knee. Her voice softened, but never lost its edge. “You don’t want to feel like you’re losing—or worse, giving up—pieces of yourself. I get it. But, listen to me, I’ve been doing this long enough to see what happens to people whose chrome gave out before their flesh did. It never, ends well.”
Sofie swallowed hard. Her throat was tight. “I don’t want more. I want less. I want to be again.”
Navarro sighed, running a hand through her dark curls. “That’s not how the game is played, kiddo. You don’t get to swap metal back to meat. Best you can do is make what you’ve got work better for you.”
Sofie let go of her knees and flopped backward in the exam chair, spreading out and sighing.
“You’ll need to upgrade eventually. I’ll even do it for you today if you finally decide to listen to me.” Navarro said. “But I know you’ve only ever trusted one person to do more than maintenance. So if you want my advice, my honest to God recommendation, I’d tell you to ask Liv to do it.”
Sofie closed her eyes hard, trying desperately to find a flaw in what Navarro was saying. “Liv’s busy. She’s got enough on her plate already.”
Navarro huffed out a short laugh. “That’s rich. Sure, your sis’s a big name player over at the Med Center now, but do you really believe she wouldn’t drop everything at a moment’s notice to keep you from shorting out mid-dive? Please. That girl’s been elbow deep in blood and stitching people up since before she hit puberty.”
It was true. Liv had show great promise as a Med-Techie from a very young age. She’d been observing and even assisting with cyberware implantations and other surgeries as long as Sofie could remember. She’d performed most of Sofie’s cyberware implantation surgeries, all except the installation of her neuroport and cybernetic eyes. At the age of fourteen, she had been appointed the sole medical officer within the Nástr?nd facility following the successful implementation of Sofie’s cybernetic arms and Sandevistan speedware in a single operation.
Sometimes Sofie wished that they hadn’t confided so much in Navarro, but only when she made an excellent point that Sofie didn’t want to admit was right. And right now, she hated how right Elise was.
Since Liv had decided to stay in Night city, Sofie had worked quietly to help her sister take back control of her future. Liv may have been dragged down the path of medicine by their circumstances, but she enjoyed it. Just the same way that Sofie loved cyberspace and the Net, despite her distaste for her cyberware.
Helping Liv follow her own path hadn’t been easy. Decades of records tied to Nástr?nd and the Ni Heimar program were either buried, falsified, or erased altogether. But Sofie had tracked down fragments—old training logs, surveillance notes cataloguing Liv’s procedures, even the records of every exam she’d undergone to earn her position as the Ni Heimar’s sole medical officer.
It wasn’t enough to hand her a license outright, but it had opened the door. After minor alterations to legitimize the origin of Liv’s credentials, Sofie slipped the records into the right networks, leaned on the right people, and managed to give Liv a chance to stand in front of an examination board with proof of skill in her hands and two decades of practical experience to back it up.
The rest, Liv had earned on her own. She passed every test, dazzled with practical demonstrations, and had earned her license to practice medicine. Within a year, she had claimed a post at the Night City Medical center, respected as a full-fledged physician. She was even teaching a student of her own now.
Of course, Sofie held no malice toward Liv—in fact, she was so incredibly proud of her sister and her accomplishments that she felt terrible for even thinking of bringing her back down to the level of repairing Sofie’s implants damaged by little more than her stubborn refusal to change out the parts of her body that weren’t even in the first place.
“Liv deserves better than having to keep fixing me,” Sofie muttered.
“You still don’t get it,” Navarro snorted. “To Liv, it isn’t about ‘fixing’ you. It’s about keeping you safe. That’s what she’s been trying to do ever since the day they put a scalpel in her hand. Doesn’t matter if she’s running a full ward at the Med Center or sitting here with me and a screwdriver—if it’s for you, she’ll drop everything else.”
Sofie pressed her lips together, guilt trying to push away the warmth growing in her chest. Why did Navarro always have to be right? Liv had been saving her for as long as she could remember, and Sofie was sure she would never be able to repay her.
Navarro leaned back in her chair, folding her arms again. “Stop treating her like she’s chained to the past in the same way you are every time you think about asking for help. Let her be what she already is: a damn good doctor—and an even better sister.”
Sofie exhaled through her nose, staring up at the ceiling. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It simple,” Navarro said with a shrug. “You’re the one making it complicated.”
* * *
The rain had returned, falling harder and heavier than before. By the time Sofie and Ares reached Japantown the streets glowed with reflections of neon signage and passing AV lights, painting the Merrimac’s windshield in pulses of pink and blue. Sofie leaned her head against the window, watching the neon smear against the glass until the rhythm of the city lulled her thoughts into quiet again. Navarro’s words still hung over her.
While Sofie had been in the clinic, Ares had walked to a corner store to buy a bottle of wine to bring to dinner. Afterward, she’d told him what she and the ripperdoc had spoken about. He had listened quietly, nodding the whole time. When she had finished recounting the conversation, Ares had told her he agreed with Navarro. He was in no hurry to expand the number of implants in own body, but had none of his wife’s reticence when it came to upgrades or replacements. But he had made an excellent point that Navarro hadn’t: If her implants went out while they were working, she wasn’t the only one at risk.
It wasn’t a new thought for her, she’d just pushed it aside, caving to her fear. In the end though, she knew they were right, and she would have to upgrade sooner or later. She decided it would have to be as soon as possible. All she had to do now was actually surmount the barrier her fears had created. Easier said than done.
The Merrimac rolled to a stop outside a midrise apartment block whose clean facade looked almost out of place among Japantown’s crowded rooftops and neon lanterns. Sofie pulled up the hood of her jacket as she and Ares stepped out into the rain that had barely let up for the last week. The downpour softened to a mist under the building’s awning. The glow of the street signs bled pink and blue across the glass doors as Ares pressed the buzzer for unit twelve.
A moment later, a voice crackled through the speaker, and the fuzzy image of one of the redheaded twins appeared on the small screen above the buttons.
“You’re just in time!” Liv’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Come on up!”
The lock clicked.
They rode the narrow lift to the fourth floor, where the hallway smelled faintly of incense. There were four doors in the hallway, two in either direction, numbered nine through twelve. When door twelve opened at a knock, warmth washed over them—light and color and noise.
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The twins’ apartment was both very similar completely different to Sofie’s. The small space was only a third of the size of the penthouse, at best. Both places were obviously loved and lived in, but Liv and Astrid’s home was a complete—utterly beautiful—mess. Paintings leaned against the walls in all stages of completion—some dark and abstract, others full of color and motion. Canvases hung crookedly beside framed photos, jars full of paintbrushes were scattered around the room, one on nearly every shelf. A heavy toll blanket had been draped over the back of the couch, a patch of deep crimson against the soft gray upholstery. Medical textbooks were scattered around the room as well, some still open, others so full of page markers that Sofie wondered if they were actually helpful anymore.
Liv wrapped her arms around each of them in turn, hugging Ares just as tightly and with just as big a smile on her face as when she hugged Sofie.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, stepping back and brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “Don’t know what Astrid’s making, but it smells amazing.”
Stepping inside, Sofie couldn’t agree more. The smell of spices and something faintly smoky drifted from the kitchen where Astrid stood stirring a pan on the stove. Her tangled red curls were tied up in a loose braid that swung back and forth as she bobbed her head time with the music playing on her headphones. She was wearing a loose pink tank top and pastel green leggings, both splattered with paint. As she turned around to grab a handful of diced mushrooms from the counter behind her, she noticed her audience and pulled the headphones off to hang around her neck. On her cheek, a smear of ochre paint hid about half of her freckles, but she seemed to have no idea as she grinned at Sofie.
“You made it!” She said brightly, then turned back to the pan to stir in the mushrooms. “Perfect timing. Five more minutes and we’d have had to start without you.”
She spoke in a strange rhythm, like each word followed the echo of something half-heard, but it no longer felt haunted. The cadence was off, but it was her own now—deliberate and playful, and almost musical.
About thirteen months ago, after Liv had started working at the Night City Med Center for a while, and Astrid had found her foothold among the Afterlife Mercs, the twins had pulled together enough money to move out of Sofie’s apartment and into this place. Shortly after that, Astrid had begged Liv, Dr. Navarro, and Sofie to help her with her predictive implant.
Crowded around her on Navarro’s exam table, the three of them had managed to access the implant, carefully steering clear of the Heimdall AI hidden inside, and altered the admin rights. They couldn’t give Astrid complete control over the device due to the way it interfaced with her grey-matter, but the had been able to give her the ability to filter Heimdall’s presence. At her discretion, she could turn it down to about twenty percent of the usual output. The result was astounding.
Formerly, Astrid had been troubled with the knowledge of how everything around her would unfold, how every conversation would play out. It had caused her speech to take on a strange affectation, like every time she opened her mouth she was prophesying. Over the last year, she had found her own voice, and though she spoke in a lilting, sing-song fashion, and tended to call people by kennings rather than their names, she was still Astrid through and through.
The only real side effect, as far as Sofie and Liv could tell, wasn’t caused by the implant at all. It seemed that without Heimdall’s constant influence steering her thoughts, forcing her into distant calm, Astrid had uncovered something that had always been there: ADHD. Though Navarro had suggested it might be the result of her mind finally being freed, Liv suspected that it had been buried for years under the AI’s relentless input, masked by the precision and focus it forced upon her. Without the ever-present whisper mapping every decision before she made it, Astrid’s mind was free to wander—and wander it did. Her attention flitted between projects like a bird between branches, rarely settling in one place for long.
The apartment had become a living gallery of her half-finished thoughts: paintings, sculptures, sketches, and scraps of poetry scattered wherever inspiration had struck. But for all the chaos, she seemed lighter now. Happier. More herself than she had ever been.
Astrid had once said to Sofie. Over a decade later, the words held an entirely different meaning to Sofie. Astrid was finally able to herself—not just know who she was supposed to be.
Ares poke his head around the door, inhaling deeply. “Smells incredible,” he said. “What’s on the menu tonight?”
Astrid waved her spoon at him, sending a couple bits of mushroom flying. “Risotto,” she declared, eyes glinting. “With mushrooms, garlic, and a fresh onion I found at the Cherry Blossom Market this morning.” Astrid’s grin widened as she turned back to the stove, giving the pan a confident shake. Steam curled up, carrying with it the rich scent of butter and herbs.
“Sounds great!” Liv said, her voice rising just loud enough to carry over the hiss of the pan. “And by the smell of it, I think we can officially say you’re past the ‘smoke alarm phase’ of your cooking career.”
Astrid shot her sister a lighthearted glare, brandishing the spoon like a sword and sending a few more mushroom bits flying. “That was one time. . And I maintain that the alarm was overreacting.”
Ares chuckled as he stepped out of the kitchen doorway and set the bottle of wine down on the table. “The apartment smelled like burnt macaroni for two weeks, Astrid. How’d you even burn pasta before you poured out the water?”
Astrid arched an eyebrow, a mischievous golden gleam flickering in her green eyes. “Ah, but from ashes rises wisdom,” she said, voice slipping into its old familiar rhythm, as it did from time to time. “And the cauldron remembers the flame, though the meal be lost.”
Sofie laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re not getting out of that one with poetry.”
“Ah, but this batch, dear sister,” Astrid said with an exaggerated flourish, “will redeem all that was burned before.”
Liv grinned, leaning against the counter as she crosse her arms. “You said that about the curry too.”
“And was it not glorious?” Astrid asked, her tone bright and proud.
“It turned blue.”
“A minor triumph of chemistry,” Astrid said with a shrug, returning her attention to the pan as her eyes returned to their regular green. “Flavor transcends color.”
Ares chuckled again, lifting the bottle of wine. “Well, I’ll drink to that!”
Liv rolled her eyes, but smiled alongside Sofie as she gestured her toward the table. “Come on you two—sit. Dinner’s almost ready, and I want to introduce you to someone while Astrid finishes up.”
Sofie followed Liv to the table, shrugging off her jacket and draping it over the back of a chair. The warm light and the smell of Astrid’s cooking wrapped around her like a blanket after the long, rain-soaked day. Ares pulled out a chair beside her as Liv nodded to the young woman seated at the far edge of the table.
She was dressed in green scrubs, her sand-colored hair was pulled pulled into a failing ponytail, and her red-rimmed glasses had slid slightly down her nose. An untouched mug of tea sat next to the textbook that lay open in front of her. There were dark bags under her almond eyes. Her head bobbed as she fought to stay awake.
“This is Eiko Halvari,” Liv said, resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “My student. She survived her first, uh… accidental thirty hour shift today”
As if on cue, Eiko fell face first into the textbook.
The sound of her forehead hitting the page was soft but decisive.
“Oh no,” Liv sighed, her tone equal parts fondness and exasperation. “There she goes again.”
“I’m awake…” A soft voice said, muffled by the pages of the textbook. Eiko groggily pushed herself upright and adjusted her glasses.
Sofie smiled as she watched Liv gently tuck Eiko’s loose hair behind her ear. “Thirty hours?” She asked quietly.
“Twenty-eight, if you don’t count our meal breaks.” Liv said. “I was on call over the weekend. Eiko was almost done when Trauma Team came in with a patient who needed emergency surgery. She got pulled into the OR before either of us thought about the time, and by then it was too late.”
Ares let out a low whistle as he uncorked the wine bottle and began to fill the waiting glasses. “That’s one helluva baptism by fire.”
Eiko blinked, rubbing her eyes and trying to rally her focus. “It was… intense,” she admitted, her voice still heavy with exhaustion. “But I learned a lot. And Dr. Arne—uh, Liv—did most of the heavy lifting.”
“You’ll catch up in no time,” Liv said. “Quick hands, sharp mind. You’re an excellent surgical assistant. You just need to remember you’re human, not a machine.”
“Working on it,” Eiko murmured, cheeks tinting pink. Then, as if a switch flipped, she suddenly brightened. “Oh but you should see her! Dr. Arnesen’s a master, and her hands are so steady it’s hard to believe they’re organic! She sewed up an abdominal aortic aneurysm freehand the other day. It was like watching—I dunno—a ballet or something. Even the Trauma Team that brought the guy in were mesmerized.”
“That sure sounds like our Liv.” Sofie smiled.
Liv groaned softly, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her. She started to say something, but was interrupted as Astrid emerged from the kitchen and began dishing out her mushroom risotto. “The tale has been sung, the legend born. Henceforth you shall be known as who stitched the rent in man’s design and bade death wait her turn.”
Sofie stifled a laugh, Ares didn’t. Liv’s face went as red as her hair. Eiko looked dumbfounded, as if she was unsure if Astrid was making a joke or not.
After a moment, Liv started to giggle and playfully punched Astrid in the shoulder.
After they had eaten, conversation flowed easily, laughter spilling as freely as the wine. Eiko, revived by a full meal and a second cup of tea, had found her rhythm among them—listening more than speaking, but chiming in here and there with wide-eyed curiosity.
“So,” Ares said, leaning back in his chair, one arm slung lazily over the backrest. “Halvari, huh? That’s a nordic name, but your other’s Japanese, right? What’s the story there?”
Eiko blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question, but her smile came quickly. She adjusted her glasses and said, “Well, my mom’s from Nagoya. She came here in the forties, back when the city had just started rebuilding after the wars. My dad’s from Helsinki. He was a cybernetics engineer—worked for Biotechnica back then. They met at a trade expo, fell in love, and—well, I was the result.”
Ares swirled his glass, nodding. “Night City’s good at mixing people like that,” he said. “Not always that nicely though.”
Eiko chuckled softly. “No kidding. We lived in Santo Domingo for a while before… well, before Mom passed away. After that, Dad and I moved to Japantown. He’s working for Segotari now, making video games.”
“That’s a heck of jump—from cyberware to game design.”
“Yeah,” Eiko said, her tired laugh brightening her voice. “But he loves it. I think he’s doing it for Mom.”
“What do you mean?” Sofie Asked, leaning forward.
“Mom loved gaming. She was really into this old MMO, It was Segotari’s first game, I think. Met her best friend while playing it. We’ve still got her library of games, but I don’t have time to play any of them anymore. But Dad… He’s played every single one of them—says he’s doing his research, so he can make the perfect game. The one Mom would have loved more than any other.”
“That’s so sweet!” Astrid said, pretending she wasn’t wiping a tear from her eye as she said it.
“He says it’s how he keeps her close. Every time he writes a new quest, it’s like he’s talking to her again.”
“Love endures through code and current, through story and song.” Astrid said, her voice soft and rhythmic. “The body fades, but the memory hums eternal.”
Eiko yawned, then gave a small laugh. “You talk like you’re from the games she used to play. She’d have liked you, Astrid.”
“Then I like her in kind,” Astrid said, dipping her head in a little bow.
Liv chuckled and rose to start gathering plates. Sofie joined her.
“Are you sure?” Liv asked as she pushed the dishwasher door closed.
“Mhm.” Sofie was sitting on the countertop, staring at her shoes.
“You’re not scared?”
“Faen, Liv. Of course I am!” Sofie said. “I’m terrified.”
“Which is why you want me to do it, not Navarro.”
“Mhm.”
Liv leaned back against the counter beside Sofie, arms folded, eyes staring into the middle distance. “Most of your cyberware is the same stuff Yrsa had me put into you back in Nástr?nd—except the few things that I replaced after Erik hurt you. At best your implants are two years old—at worst, since you were eight. Frankly, it’s a miracle that it’s still syncing properly.”
“That’s pretty much what Elise said.” Sofie ran her fingers through her hair then pushed the palm of her hand against her temple. After a few moments of silence she said, “But she’s right, and you’re right. Sooner or later something’s going to give out on me, and it’s going to be at the worst possible time. Back when we were a team it wasn’t an issue because it was new. And when I was on my own I was the only one at risk. If my chrome failed me, so be it. Now… Now it’s not just me. I—I can’t—” Her voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t do that to Ares.”
Liv didn’t say anything. She pulled Sofie into a hug.
“I want you to replace everything Liv. I need every bit of metal in my body to be new. Top of the line.”
Liv tightened her arms around her, holding her close as if to keep her from falling apart.
“Okay,” Liv said softly. “We’ll do it. All of it. I’ll find the most reliable gear out there, calibrate it all myself.” She patted Sofie on the head.
Sofie exhaled a shaky breath, pressing her forehead into Liv’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Liv rested her chin against Sofie’s hair, her voice quiet and steady. “You don’t have to thank me for this. It’s my job to keep you a one piece. Always has been.”
Sofie was silent for a while, leaning heavily into her sister’s embrace.
“I just want to stop worrying he’ll have to watch me break.”
Liv didn’t answer right away. She just squeezed Sofie tighter.
