Chapter 120: Foreman!
"I recently bought a piece of land here in the Badlands..." Arthur started casually.
Mitch nearly choked on his cigarette. "Bought? You bought land here? What the hell for? You trying to lose money in style? Just give it to me next time, I'll blow it at Twist Street for you. At least then it'll be a party!"
Arthur smirked and shrugged. "Come on, I'm just trying to survive, same as everyone else. Besides, if I don't buy it, Night City's gonna chew me up and spit me out. Rules in the city, rules outside the city—either way, you're stuck playing someone else's game."
Mitch thought for a second, then grunted. "Depends where you bought it. You'd better pray there's no Knife Club squatters or night-ghost psychos squatting near your new backyard. Otherwise, you're buying yourself a front-row ticket to hell."
Arthur nodded. He'd already considered that risk. That's partly why he'd come to the Aldecaldos' camp in the first place. If you needed to understand how to deal with rats, you asked a rat. If you needed to survive in the wilderness, you asked a wanderer.
"I picked a spot next to the Biotechnica protein farm," Arthur said. "It's not exactly paradise, but it's relatively safe. Not a lot of people hanging around."
Mitch gave a low whistle. "Biotech, huh? Lucky dog. Say, any chance you could swing us a discount with them? I've been dreaming about those juicy cricket steaks. The big bugs. When you bite 'em, it's like poppin' a fat, meaty zit—gushes right into your soul!"
Arthur made a face, nose wrinkled. Mitch always had a way with words.
In Night City, "protein" didn't mean steak or tofu. It meant bugs. Industrially grown, genetically optimized, and processed into a slurry that could mimic meat, if you didn't think too hard about it.
Biotechnica held nearly half the city's protein contracts. Their "meat" ranged from gourmet cricket patties for corpo brunches, to worm-based pastes sold in vending machines. Earthworm patties were cheapest, and it showed. They had an earthy, gritty taste and a smell that could rot teeth.
Most people didn't ask what they were eating. In Night City, ignorance wasn't just bliss—it was survival.