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This was why so many people were willing to risk their lives just to get someone into Arasaka Academy—it had the most advanced learning technology in all of Night City.
After escorting Arthur to the computer room, the principal had stuck around for a bit, exchanged some small talk, then left in a hurry. Arthur was now alone in the room, eyes slowly scanning the state-of-the-art equipment around him.
He rubbed his chin, thoughtfully murmuring to himself.
"Let's see… This doesn't look too complicated. Physical damage is easy. But the virus in the system—that's going to need a bit of outside help."
Without wasting a second, Arthur got to work. He quickly disassembled the control panel in what was known as the "green classroom." A few quick adjustments, a couple of cables swapped, and the system powered back on with a faint hum.
Despite how advanced the classroom was, Arthur knew a basic truth: the more sophisticated the device, the stronger its self-preservation features. David had merely overloaded the system, which had triggered a failsafe. Fixing that part was simple.
The real problem? The projections were still glitching. A virus had been injected into the program, and rather than wiping out the system, it had only made things worse—corrupting the latest version of the green classroom into a scrambled mess.
Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Seriously, what kind of idiot writes code like this?"
Reaching for his comm, he dialed a number. "Lucy. Need your help. I've got a virus problem."
Her voice came through, a bit annoyed. "A virus? You're calling me for this now? Since when do you handle small-time tech support gigs?"
Arthur chuckled, resting a foot on the nearby chair. "Hey, I enjoy the occasional change of pace. You handle the software. I've already sorted the hardware."
Lucy groaned on the other end. "Why do I always get roped into your nonsense? Every time I help you, it turns into some ridiculous circus act."
"It's not dangerous this time," Arthur assured. "No one's monitoring me. The principal actually asked me to help clean the system. Just need you to wipe the virus."
There was a pause. Then, reluctantly, Lucy sighed again. "Fine. But I swear, I'm cursed. Why do I keep helping you? Arasaka Academy of all places? You're fixing their classroom now?"
"Exactly. Just scrub the code," Arthur said. Then, after a beat, added, "Also, do me a little favor. Slip in a custom trigger. There's a kid—Masaru Tanaka. When he logs in, have the system identify him and automatically strip his avatar. Uniform gone. Every time."
Silence.
"You're joking."
"Nope," Arthur replied, unfazed. "First login, and then randomly every few days after that. Make it unpredictable. Strip him clean each time."
"You're unbelievable," Lucy said flatly. "You want to humiliate him with a prank virus?"
"Just a harmless lesson," Arthur replied, grinning. "You in or what?"
"I'm already regretting this," she muttered. "But fine. You owe me. Big time."
Arthur ended the call and within moments, a fresh file popped up in his inbox. He opened it, and the green classroom returned to normal, fully operational.
To be fair, Arthur had considered more… permanent solutions for Masaru Tanaka. But in Night City, dealing with enemies required strategy. Sure, you could kill someone and get away with it—Yorinobu Arasaka had killed his own father, after all. But those decisions carried long-term consequences.
No, a bit of psychological warfare was better. Safer. Embarrass Tanaka, destroy his image, ruin his pride—without risking Arthur's own neck. Let the kid walk around knowing his next login might leave him virtually naked in front of his classmates.
As he chuckled at the thought, the lights in the green classroom flared to life. A holographic projection rose in the center of the room and scanned the surroundings before focusing on Arthur.
"You must be Mr. Arthur," the AI announced in a calm, formal tone. "Your repairs were efficient. This system has been restored in record time."
Arthur blinked, slightly surprised. "Yeah… thanks. You're the AI that manages the school systems, right?"
"Correct. I am the academy's intelligent assistant. My role is to monitor academic environments and ensure smooth system performance," the AI responded. Then it paused, as if evaluating him. "Your skill is impressive. Would you consider working for the Arasaka Group permanently?"
Arthur's expression froze for a beat. "No, thanks. Not interested."
"We offer the most competitive compensation in the market," the AI pressed on.
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"Let me guess: an unlimited supply of caffeine pills, 16-hour shifts, and 'corporate loyalty points' redeemable nowhere?"
He took a breath and waved the notion away. "I'll pass."
The AI didn't skip a beat. "Understood. May I ask if you are acquainted with Delamain?"
Arthur raised a brow. "Delamain? The AI from the taxi service?"
"Yes. While I have never communicated with him, I believe we would have much to discuss. Our protocols are likely compatible."
Arthur smirked. "I'll arrange a meeting. You two would get along just fine."
He turned to leave, but the AI called out again. "Please reconsider. Arasaka would benefit greatly from your talents."
Arthur shook his head, chuckling to himself as he stepped out. "Yeah. I'm sure you would."
But Arthur had no intention of becoming a corporate puppet. In Night City, working for a megacorp meant giving up your soul. You weren't a person—you were a tool. Replaceable. Disposable.
No matter how generous the offer, Arthur knew the truth. If the numbers didn't add up, the company would discard you like trash. Maybe you'd get a shiny prosthetic to help you work longer. Maybe not. Either way, you were still just part of the machine.
Arthur walked down the hall, his steps steady, his mind focused. He had escaped the clutches of the corporate world once. He wasn't about to fall back into it now.