Players Invade Cyberpunk-Chapter 686 - 222: Never Underestimate Their Lack of Shame (Part 3)

And because it hasn't been system-upgraded, nor is it an artificial body equipped by ERO or Medical Department players, Brother Dao found it very uncomfortable to use. The artificial eye would occasionally throw error messages. Even the cheapest gray prosthetics sold in official stores before only had inferior attributes, but wouldn't be this awful.

And for this, 8000?

He wouldn't take it even for 800.

However, on the surface, Brother Dao still worked very hard, not only being 30% more efficient than others with prosthetics but also working longer hours, not forgetting to hum small tunes. Those who didn't know would think he was on vacation here.

After three days of this, even the foreman began to look at him differently.

A hard worker this good, you couldn't find one even if you searched with a lantern.

And on the third day, due to a worker dying in the inner factory, which is the artificial meat cultivation center, the foreman straightforwardly recommended his adopted son, Brother Dao, to join. However, the pay remained the same, as there's no such thing as a wage increase for grassroots workers.

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A private detective hired by Continental Foods Corporation, Derek had worked extremely hard to successfully fake an identity and become a driver for Horizon Logistics Company on Taiping Continent, specializing in transporting goods between Stone Ridge Mountain and the Trash Mountain, which was exactly to his liking.

It's just that the company's management was far too strict, even stricter than the Orbital Aviation where Derek used to work, comparable to the coastal airports in Night City.

Not only were there cameras everywhere without leaving any blind spots, but even those moving robots were each a surveillance lens. If you deviated slightly from the AI system's designated route, the in-car broadcast would immediately instruct you to get back, and without a good reason, if you disobeyed, the vehicle would be locked in place, no matter how you floored the pedal.

Not only was every broken piece of iron and plastic moved back weighed, but even the fuel consumption was calculated with precise detail, leaving no loophole.

Derek was full of inside complaints; it was just a pile of garbage, was it necessary to make such a grandiose fuss?

Meanwhile, Horizon Corporation didn't care much. He almost blatantly used his artificial eye to take photos of the Trash Mountain right in front of those robots, capturing how disgusting the garbage was and how much toxic substance it carried, all clearly evidenced.

Watching those robots send the garbage back to the so-called recycling areas, Derek internally ridiculed, "All the companies under the sky are indeed the same; they could disregard everything for profit. They only talk about pure water and natural health, but even the bottles they use are picked up from trash heaps."

As time went on, Derek could access more and more areas. During scheduled lunch breaks, he could almost visit any workshop's safe area to observe the production process, as long as he didn't interfere with other workers.

He personally watched how those plastics stained with toxic substances were sent into alkaline pools for washing and rinsing, then sorted into different categories through mechanical production lines. Some were sent to the photolysis zone, where they underwent rapid decomposition using sunlight and special photolysis layers and enzymes.

Derek couldn't understand the chemical formulas on the signs, but he did notice that the plastics inside the sheds were gradually decreasing and disappearing, seemingly turning into combustible gas, which was then put into tanks and burned for power.

And those higher-quality plastics, after being washed, were melted and reformed. Although their quality was downgraded, they were still more than sufficient as packaging for drinking water.

Though it seemed alright to look at, as someone who had personally seen players and robots picking them from trash heaps, Derek clearly remembered how nauseatingly they smelled at the time, so he's always stayed far away from that kind of drinking water.

What surprised him more was that his colleagues, who were also truck drivers, accepted this water without hesitation, drinking at least five or six bottles a day.

Derek, out of goodwill, advised, "Aren't you worried about there being something dirty inside?"

The colleague shook half a bottle of pure water, the transparent liquid swirling in the bottle, refracting sunlight into a rainbow on the ground, incredibly dazzling.

"Doesn't it look pretty clean?"

Derek scoffed, "What's the use of just looking clean? You know where those things came from."

"But those doctors said it's fine."

The colleague was a bit puzzled as to why Derek would say these things, but still explained,

"The doctor said I have fewer artificial implants, so I should avoid drinks high in sugar, otherwise, I'd risk high blood pressure and diabetes. They even boiled a bottle of dumb monkey cola in front of me; all that was left was black syrup, so I didn't dare touch that stuff again."

"Doctors?"

Derek looked skeptical, not trying to belittle the other, but Horizon Corporation's drivers earn 1,500 Orokins a month, which seemed decent, but far from enough to afford a professional medical examination from a hospital.

"Couldn't it be that some shady doctors tricked you?"

"How could they be shady doctors? They're licensed by ERO Medical Corporation, conducting free clinics outside weekly with very low drug prices. Don't you know?"

"Besides, this thing is only 1.5 Orokins, and the doctors are drinking it too, so why should I be scared?"

PS: What the author describes are all things that have existed in reality, including hands ground into meat paste, falling into fat containers, molds, cockroaches, rats, urinating and defecating everywhere, etc. Reality can be far worse than I wrote. Roosevelt vomited out a half-eaten sausage in anger after reading related reports.

Because the condition of the place where he ate that sausage was exactly like the factory I described, if not even worse.

You can use the most malicious imaginations on their actions, imagine the hygienic conditions of those factories, and when that day explodes, you'll find your imagination was so poor. The original Arc is indeed impressive, and regarding labor conditions, Old London and Old America are superior, while Lord Dong's people are just bystanders, stepping barefoot on sauerkraut and spitting around are just making trouble.