Arthur pushed open the door to his small home in Santo Domingo.
Before he could even kick off his boots, David's voice rang out from inside, half crying, half frustrated:
"Mom! You forgot to renew the subscription again! The washing machine's down!"
Arthur's mouth twitched.
Still standing in the entryway, he shrugged off his grimy windbreaker and flung it over the battered sofa. Then he casually wandered over to where David was glaring helplessly at the lifeless washing machine.
In this era of modular smart-tech, nothing was simple.
Even your toaster probably had a subscription service.
Night City landlords were real visionaries — they made Arthur's previous world's worst slumlords look like kindergarteners.
They would charge you for the right to breathe in your own home if they could figure out a way to meter it.
Arthur crossed his arms and stared down at the stubborn machine.
"Dad, you're back!" David perked up a little.
Arthur nodded, squatting down in front of the useless appliance with the solemnity of a battlefield medic.
"You mean to tell me, after spending all that time studying at Arasaka Academy..." Arthur said, tapping the washing machine with one knuckle, "you still can't even crack a home appliance ICE?"
David blinked.
Arthur clicked his tongue.
"Your Aunt Lucy? When she was your age, kid, she was already hacking traffic control systems.
And not only did she use washing machines for free — the landlords had to pay her for the privilege!"
David flushed beet red.
He knew full well Arthur was exaggerating, but trying to argue with his father's nonsense was like throwing eggs at a brick wall.
"I mean, c'mon," Arthur added, dead serious. "It's free training! Life skills, kid!"
David opened his mouth, hesitated, then just sighed.
He wasn't an idiot.
At Arasaka Academy, he studied business management and counter-intelligence. He wasn't in the hacking division, and besides, hacking home appliances wasn't exactly a course elective.
Arthur pulled a battered toolbox from the corner of the living room and grabbed an ancient screwdriver.
"Stand aside, boy. Watch and learn how real Night City citizens handle ICE."
David watched with growing horror as Arthur casually unscrewed the top panel of the washing machine, exposing the rat's nest of wires and the sleek corporate ICE chip glinting at the center.
"My dear father," David said with the utmost mockery, "if you can fix a subscription block with a screwdriver, I'll eat that screwdriver. Whole."
Arthur didn't even blink.
"Is this another one of your scams to eat free meals at home again?"
He stuck the screwdriver into the wiring, twisted it twice with an experienced hand — and the washing machine whirred back to life instantly.
David gawked.
Arthur tossed the screwdriver at his son, smirking as he sank onto the threadbare couch.
"You see, kid," Arthur said lazily, "the important thing in life isn't how much you know — it's how creatively you apply what you know."
David, still staring at the revived machine, stammered, "B-But isn't this... illegal?"
Arthur gave him a look like he'd just grown a second head.
"Illegal?" Arthur snorted. "David, listen. If thinking people shouldn't get ripped off by soulless corporate leeches is 'illegal,' then call me the King of Crime."
"But...but..." David stammered. His brain, wired by Arasaka's corporate education system, sputtered.
He had been trained to see the world through regulation, licensing, and compliance.
"If it's not paid for, it's stealing, right?" David mumbled, scratching the back of his head.
Arthur burst out laughing, nearly choking on his cigarette smoke.
"My son," Arthur said, tears of laughter in his eyes, "I think I need to pull you out of Arasaka Academy immediately and enroll you in a Dragon Kingdom comedy school."
David frowned.
Arthur nodded sagely.
"I'm serious! With your straight-faced way of talking nonsense, you'd be a hit in the cross-talk circuit.
Maybe even make more money than your old man one day!"
David flushed again but muttered under his breath, "But... stealing's wrong..."
Arthur slapped his forehead.
"Zhuo! Who taught you this nonsense? Listen carefully, kid — this isn't stealing.
This is resistance.
This is the glorious people's war against unjust corporate oppression!"
He jabbed a finger in the air dramatically.
"We're fighting back against a world where you have to pay microtransactions just to take a dump in your own toilet!"
David's expression twisted like he was trying to digest that idea... and failing miserably.
"So... resisting corporate oppression means... breaking into washing machines?"
"Exactly!" Arthur declared, without a shred of shame.
"True revolution starts at home!"
David, overwhelmed by the absurdity, threw his hands up.
"You know what? Fine! I volunteer to join the cause!" he declared solemnly.
"I will fight for the right to free laundry for all Night City citizens!"
Arthur grinned and reached over to ruffle his son's hair roughly.
"That's my boy."
After a few moments, as the freshly reawakened washing machine hummed in the background, David glanced up at his father.
"But seriously... you think Mom would approve?"
Arthur leaned back, looking at the cracked ceiling.
"Son, if your mom was here," he said with a nostalgic smile, "she would've already hacked the landlord's bank account and forced him to pay us a rental fee."
David stared at him.
Arthur smiled wider.
"In Night City, my boy, survival isn't about following the rules. It's about knowing which ones to break — and breaking them with style."
David looked thoughtful for a moment, then solemnly said:
"I'm still signing up for the cross-talk school if this doesn't work out."
Arthur laughed so hard he nearly fell off the couch.