Players Invade Cyberpunk

Chapter 1321: Chapter 429: Mine Is Huge, Bear With It

Fighting is one thing,

but killing someone is not acceptable, or else you might face group punishment.

Last time Lieutenant Yous was thrown into confinement for causing trouble, and when he got out, he was terrified and jittery, having nightmares at night and mumbling things like [Quack! Don’t come near me].

The soldiers from the three countries who had been huddled together, throwing fists and kicks, quickly dispersed.

Leaving only the poor British guy knocked out on the floor with a French armor-piercing round stuck straight in his mouth and his comrade holding him.

The scene was as touching as it could be, truly cinematic, Brother Dao filmed it from more than a dozen different angles before urging the medics waiting outside,

"Hurry, hurry, go save him, it’s your turn to gain some experience."

Whether he died or not wasn’t really their problem, just a stroke of bad luck, but if they could save him, it would surely make for good publicity.

"On our way!"

The resident, with two rookie medics in tow, dashed into the chaotic mess of a cafeteria, shouting

"Who died? Who died?"

"Doctor! Over here!"

Other than William’s comrade, everyone else was indifferent. Even Henry and his group were only standing on the tables to film the scene inside.

Deaths in the camp were too common. Each year, in a battalion of about a thousand, dozens of unresolved cases weren’t unheard of.

Mutual vendettas, mutual cover-ups, even if an investigation team came down, they would just take a quick glance and dismiss it as an accident.

The resident pushed through the crowd, laid the patient flat on a stretcher, then pried open an eyelid to check for dilation, squeezed the neck to listen for a heartbeat,

"Cardiac arrest. Does he have any heart conditions?"

"I... I don’t know."

The comrade stammered, trying hard to recall,

"There’s a monitor installed beside his heart by the company, it’s used to administer medications to us."

The resident frowned,

"A monitor?"

They should have had the prosthetics installed when they were brought into the POW camp.

"It’s a little thing for injecting wartime stimulants, then monitoring and collecting heart data."

A nearby lieutenant explained for the clueless grunt.

Turns out it’s independently operated...

Just as the rookie removed William’s shirt to use the defibrillator, he asked,

"Can you extract the heart-related data inside? It would assist with the medical procedure."

"No."

The lieutenant shook his head.

"The internal data belongs to the company and is directly sent to the corporate cloud server. External access would be a violation of corporate property, a criminal act that would be taken to court."

A rookie who had just joined the game was puzzled,

"But it’s his heart, why does his heart data belong to the company? Isn’t accessing your own data legal?"

"It’s illegal. That’s how the company has it. We all signed a contract."

The lieutenant shrugged helplessly,

and just like him, the other European soldiers shared this attitude.

This bizarre absurdity left the two rookies feeling lost, their hands gripping the defibrillator tighter.

Zap—

The resident shouted,

"It’s burning! It’s burning!"

"Ah—"

The two were so startled they quickly lifted their hands, and William bolted upright from the stretcher, eyes wide open, like a drowning man taking a deep breath after surfacing, before falling back onto the stretcher unconscious.

The resident waved his hand,

"Take him to the emergency room."

The players couldn’t care less about legality; if they dared, they’d call their lawyers, and then the players would show them the real law!

Henry and his group quickly followed, afraid to miss any important news or footage.

"Go, go, go, follow them and keep filming."

They were also aware that Horizon Corporation was filming documentary-style works in the POW camp and had signed confidentiality agreements.

Just like that little monitor, quite normal, nearly all media companies were doing the same thing.

Commercializing personal privacy didn’t even count as a scandal anymore.

The soldiers began to stir; no one knew better than them what was happening to William.

Because William wasn’t the first to nearly die like this.

The wartime stimulants were medications concocted by partner companies, used to test drugs on them and gather physiological reactions after administering the combat drugs.

But everyone remained silent on the obvious truth.

"William’s probably done for."

"Yeah, even if he survives, he’ll be burdened with massive hospital debts. Last time, my cousin fainted from a sudden inflammation on the street, and when he woke up, he was in the hospital. A month later, the hospital sent a bill for over four hundred thousand."

Hearing this, a soldier couldn’t help but complain,

"Damn, it’s better not to mention it. Now that you have, I just remembered that my CT appointment from last year is coming up. If it expires, I’ll have to schedule another and wait another six months."

The person next to him patted him on the shoulder, comforting,

"Don’t worry, even after the CT is done, you’ll still have to wait three months for the results, then another five months before a doctor prescribes medication. If you need more tests, you’ll have to keep waiting."

The European and American healthcare systems are just like that; their doctors see only four to five patients a day at most. Without personal doctors or connections, dragging an illness out over a year or more is quite typical.

You ask what to do during those waiting months?

Haha

The pharmacies on the street may not have other medications, but they sell opiate painkillers by the pound. If those aren’t strong enough, the doctors will prescribe even stronger doses of enhancers. Once hooked, there’s no escaping it for the rest of your life.

And you ask why a simple CT takes so long?

It’s not the hospitals deliberately delaying it; they might simply not have a CT machine and need to schedule with another company that does. The company with the CT machine may not even be a hospital, nor have anyone to read the scans. They just bought the machine to earn money. Then, the scans have to be sent to another company for analysis. After all the back-and-forth, the analysis report won’t reach the doctor for at least five months.

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