Cyberpunk Patriarch

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Jack suddenly imagined Arthur's mother's perspective, and his fists clenched tightly in frustration. If he had a son like Arthur, he'd give him a hard slap to teach him what questions should and should not be asked.

Arthur, however, continued nonchalantly. "Eventually, my mother got so impatient with me asking, she told me that all the dirty things got washed down the sewers into the Pacific Ocean."

Jack's patience was wearing thin as Arthur rambled. "Listen, Jack. At the time, I thought my Xiang evaporated with the seawater, floated into the air, turned into rain, and fell back to Earth."

Jack groaned internally. They were supposed to be discussing serious matters, yet Arthur was talking nonsense about waste and its cycle.

"Hey, Arthur, can we stop talking about your crap?" Jack snapped, unable to hold back any longer.

Arthur, unfazed, pressed on. "But, Jack, think about it! I realized back then—if my crap can leave this hell, then so can I!"

Jack was stunned into silence. After a long pause, as their motorcycle approached the towering skyscrapers of Santo Domingo, Jack finally broke out in laughter, his voice echoing exaggeratedly. "Arthur, you're a genius! Your mother should kiss you for this. Forget being a cyberpunk—you should be a philosopher!"

He grinned, throwing his arms out dramatically. "Yes! If your crap can leave this hellhole, then we can too!"