A Company Dog's Day

Corporate Plaza, Arasaka Tower Underground Parking Garage.

Accompanied by the muffled hiss of noise-suppressed brakes, a vehicle bearing the Arasaka Security Division's internal recognition signal came to a smooth stop.

After passing security verification, and following the routine salutes from the guards and netrunner agents stationed at the entrance, Vela opened the door and stepped out. Once the vehicle was handed off, she led the two personal bodyguards assigned to her directly toward the executive-only passage.

It was Arasaka, after all—where hierarchy was everything and distinctions between officers and enlisted personnel were strictly upheld.

She spared only a brief glance at the ruins of the old Arasaka Tower, still visible not far beyond the steel-glass curtain wall. The ruins, preserved during reconstruction, served as a reminder of past humiliation. The monument read: 2023, We should always remember.

She'd seen it too many times. Nothing novel about it anymore.

Entering the tower lobby, fixed scanners, drones, and radar surveillance systems swept past her in sequence. Vela could sense dozens of eyes focusing on her briefly, then quickly turning away.

Aside from the reception area on the first floor, Arasaka Tower had no public-access facilities. Anyone moving inside was either a corporate employee or internal support staff.

Ding—

2074/5/27, 08:00.

After taking the executive elevator and clocking in on the Security Division's floor, Vela sent her bodyguards to drop off her briefcase in her office, then headed unhurriedly toward the staff cafeteria. At the same time, she projected the latest Night City briefing—sent from Arasaka's administrative center—onto her ocular implant to skim through it.

She hadn't eaten yet.

Don't be fooled by how strict the Arasaka employee handbook was—practically expecting a 007-level schedule with no days off. That was for the lower ranks.

She, at least, was a mid-level officer in the company's largest division—the Arasaka Security Division—and on the verge of another promotion. Not long ago, she had successfully completed a public security mission in Brasília, and had even taken the initiative to secure a critical lead in the Rio reconstruction project for the company.

In this world, the winner takes all.

Security Division Floor, General Cafeteria.

A hostess in a white uniform reminiscent of a flight attendant quickly approached upon seeing her and bowed. "Good morning, Commander Vela Adelheid."

Vela took a seat near one of the ornamental indoor plant displays and nodded after linking her cybernetic vision to a public holographic TV feed nearby. "Pasta set. The usual."

"Understood. Please wait a moment."

The hostess bowed again and withdrew.

"Good morning, Night City! I'm your old friend, Stanley. Yesterday's Dead Lotto—"

She turned on the TV and let the voice of Night City's famously over-the-top lottery host fill the room as background noise. After requesting a glass of ice water, Vela swept a casual glance around the cafeteria.

The space was large, with generous distance between diners. Seating areas were separated by semi-transparent privacy partitions made of specially treated glass.

To dine in the general cafeteria, one either had to be a veteran officer with ten years or more in the company or a lower-to-mid-tier manager.

In the world of Cyberpunk, the more "ordinary" something looked, the more rare—and expensive—it likely was.

In a world where land and sea had been heavily polluted, the average citizen's meals consisted entirely of processed protein products and synthetic meat. Natural foods, even genetically modified ones, came at a steep price.

As she waited for her meal, more and more familiar faces appeared—colleagues from the Security Bureau, here for breakfast.

Vela was the Deputy Security Chief of one of the Bureau's most important units: the Special Assault Unit, concurrently the commanding officer of Unit 6—a formation of one hundred elite, heavily armed Arasaka soldiers.

The Security Bureau was vast in scope, naturally encompassing other units—like the 1st Mobile Unit. They functioned more like garrison troops, stationed at the Corporate Plaza, responsible for duties such as ceremonial guard, explosives disposal, and firearm suppression during large-scale shootouts.

There were also the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Mobile Units, assigned to places like Kang Tao Building, the Northern Industrial Park, and Arasaka Coastal Industrial Park. They weren't special agents—they were more like SWAT.

So what was the biggest difference between the Special Assault Unit and the Mobile Units?

Special Assault—Vela's unit—had to go on field missions constantly. They were expected to deploy anywhere in the world, capable of strategic support to other divisions, engage in open-field combat, and provide public security services, riot suppression, and national defense contracting. Their gear was military-grade.

"Miss Russell. Congratulations. I believe you'll be shedding that 'Deputy' title very soon."

The Security Division wasn't like the Counter-Intelligence or Intelligence Divisions. While it was still full of schemers, it was also a place where people had to carry guns and stand guard—a more militaristic atmosphere, with a slightly better internal culture. Add to that Vela's conscious efforts to avoid arrogance or aloofness, and her popularity wasn't bad.

At least on the surface.

Bullets don't discriminate—once you're in the field, you're fighting back-to-back. No one wants to be stabbed in the back or caught in friendly fire.

"Thank you."

"With time, Captain Vela, I'm sure you'll surpass the old commander Fred."

"Haha, I appreciate the kind words, but that's still a long way off. We're all part of Arasaka—let's support each other and make Arasaka great again. Cheers."

Seeing familiar faces, Vela casually raised her glass, toasting with water in place of alcohol, and downed it in one go.

That was one of the minor downsides of inheriting the prestige of her late parents.

The Security Division was full of so-called uncles and seniors—her father's subordinates, colleagues, and even superiors. If she wanted to surpass them, she had to maintain authority and be firm—but she also had to show respect when it counted.

By being personable and signaling she was "one of them," she could fully capitalize on that "political inheritance" and skillfully mobilize the Security Division's resources.

"To mutual success." ×N

Everyone was a seasoned operator. Moments later, they dispersed in twos and threes—either finishing their meals or sitting down to order.

"Commander Vela, here is your cream ice cream, tomato beef pasta, and curry chicken. Enjoy your meal."

Natural foods were available in the general cafeteria, and since she didn't suffer from body image anxiety, Vela saw no reason not to indulge. She could afford it.

Fully satisfied, she rinsed her mouth with the ice water and left cheerfully.

That simple joy from enjoying good food was arguably one of the easiest forms of happiness for a human—and an effective stress reliever. Eating disorders aside.

Post-meal, Vela felt noticeably more energized. Carrying the complimentary coffee, she walked toward her office.

If nothing else, Arasaka's employee benefits were considered decent in the industry.

High salaries for active employees, Platinum Trauma Team packages for executives, combat gear and weapons issued to operatives, elite soldiers getting discounted prices on combat-grade cyberware, and free access to cutting-edge implants after twenty years of loyalty...

The tower's facilities included the general cafeteria, executive dining hall, trauma center, retail shops, equipment hub, recreation area, sleeping quarters, and barracks.

Of course, there were trade-offs: extreme pressure, virtually no rest days, no retirement pensions, and if fired, your savings, implants, and apartment would all be confiscated.

Back at her office.

2074/5/27, 08:30.

Security Division ground-level staff were already on duty. After a brief video meeting with her superiors at the Security Bureau, Vela picked up the private briefcase left on her guest table, opened it, and retrieved several detachable datachips slated for processing in the coming days.

Time to work.

Wage slave mode: activated!

[Public Security Service – Brasília Operation Report]

[Study the Arasaka Spirit]

[Special Assault Unit 6 – Action Loss Summary]

[Reflections and Improvements Post-Operation – Self-Review by Vela Adelheid Russell]

[Security Bureau New Recruit Training Evaluation – Revision 2]

[Unit 6 Combat Performance Assessment]

[Mission Bonus Application]

...

Since Vela had only just returned from a field assignment and her promotion was already in progress—though her new area of oversight hadn't yet been finalized—most of her tasks today involved reviewing field reports and handling internal matters for Unit 6.

Among these, two items were especially critical to her subordinates: [Unit 6 Combat Performance Assessment] and [Mission Bonus Application].

The former concerned the soldiers' qualifications and performance evaluations, while the latter concerned something even more immediate—money. Very important.

Time flew by.

Once she switched fully into diligent company dog mode, Vela worked nonstop through the afternoon, determined to finish the game of wording and editing in one go.

"Hoo..."

Ejecting the last datachip and clicking submit, Vela instinctively rotated her neck.

After sipping the now-cold coffee, she was just about to get up and head over to the Biotech Research Division to fulfill her side duties—showing her face to stay on the radar of influential figures—when—beep beep!

"Commander Vela. You have an invitation."

Her desk intercom relayed the voice of one of her bodyguards.

"Come in."

The office's automatic door opened with a soft click, and a flash of red scanned across the entryway as the fixed scanner activated. Her Black bodyguard stepped inside.

Vela raised an eyebrow at the invitation in his hand.

"A paper invitation? Who's throwing a party?"

The bodyguard shook his head. "Already inspected—no anomalies." He pulled out a device resembling a handheld scanner and gave the invitation two more passes for good measure.

Vela accepted the invitation. The Arasaka clover logo immediately came into view.

She unfolded it—

"Arasaka Academy cordially invites its distinguished graduate..." Vela murmured. "...to attend the 2074 freshman entrance ceremony and deliver a speech..."