Cyberspace.
Simply put, it could be considered the open-source internet of the past.
Why of the past? Because someone blew it up.
That's why cyberspace is now more often referred to as the Old Net.
Countless gradients of green, blue-white, and deep red 1s and 0s formed matrixes that resembled a navigable space. As her data-consciousness stabilized, Vela observed the ghostly realm of information just outside Arasaka's secure network.
Chaotic and disordered. Twisted and unstable.
Here, Vela could even see the boundaries between different network domains—Arasaka's, Militech's, Kang Tao's—and beyond them… the barrier that separated everything from the Old Net.
A red-black wall, constructed from astronomical volumes of hardened information density, defensive protocols, and counter-intrusion subroutines.
The Blackwall—erected by NetWatch.
Compared to the Blackwall and the Old Net sealed beyond it, Arasaka's local Night City net, which had taken decades to build, was child's play.
Cyberware was the outer shell—cyberspace was the real essence of the cyberpunk world.
"Tch. Rache Bartmoss, you soft-hearted son of a bitch."
She cursed, as usual, the man responsible for the DataKrash more than fifty years ago, then skillfully slowed her mental calculation rate, letting her data stream settle from its earlier turbulence.
Rache Bartmoss.
A legendary figure in netrunning history. The most infamous hacker. Peerless. Worshipped by some deep-net enthusiasts as a digital god who was never defeated.
Before he died, he released the R.A.B.I.D.S.[1] virus—a supervirus that finished off what the Fourth Corporate War had already battered. The internet as it was simply dissolved, like ice cream left on a grill.
Thus came the DataKrash.
The Dow Jones dropped hundreds of points in a single hour. Stock markets collapsed. Global chaos. Even mega-corp CEOs were committing suicide. NetWatch and the major corps like Arasaka barely salvaged a few scraps.
AIs went berserk. Malicious rogue programs spread like wildfire. To stop everyone from getting their brains fried the moment they connected, NetWatch built the Blackwall to completely sever the old internet.
Today, Night City operated on a closed local net. Arasaka, Militech, and other giants all used their own private networks.
Before Bartmoss dropped his bomb, the world was online—everything from unencrypted public files to top-secret corporate intel traveled freely across the net.
After the DataKrash, the network became a collection of isolated code islands, divided and hoarded by corporations, governments, and gangs.
'Bartmoss, you bastard son of a glitch!'
At first, people cheered the chaos—watching the powerful suffer was entertaining. The hacker god had struck.
But when the dust settled and the net was truly gone, the cost became clear. Now, if people wanted access, they had to submit to corporate control. No choice, no power.
Naturally, more and more began cursing Bartmoss—except for the oldest edge-runners.
As for Vela? From a corporate perspective—curse him.
...
Soon, a statuesque, well-proportioned female data projection stabilized and projected itself within Arasaka's cyberspace.
It resembled the fully synchronized state of an elite netrunner using a deep-dive rig—her consciousness transformed into a supercomputer, interfacing with the network like a stream of projected data itself.
Deep-dive rigs—cyberware plugins and support systems designed for maximizing data throughput and deeper immersion into networks.
The key difference: Vela wasn't insane enough to plug herself in directly. She connected through a relay.
That made her the kind of user scorned by old-school netrunners and street hackers.
And because she was "outsourcing" the risk, her data transfer rate was slightly lower. But it didn't matter—what she lacked in speed, she made up for in gear.
With top-tier Arasaka infrastructure behind her, paired with proprietary deep-net channels stabilized over years of use by veteran Arasaka netrunners, Vela easily reached the deepest levels of cyberspace that a normal human could safely access.
In other words: the very frontier of corporate-sanctioned cyberspace exploration.
Leaving Arasaka's security bubble behind, Vela continued diving. The Blackwall didn't respond.
As she drew closer, she could now see the digital wasteland beyond—the scorched data-sands of a post-nuclear netwar.
A place filled with lost relics and buried secrets of the Old Net.
During the Old Net's collapse, every major corporation—Arasaka included—suffered catastrophic losses. Priceless data was lost, technology regressed, and now, deep dives like this were standard practice. Street netrunners did it for the thrill; corporate ones did it to recover and reclaim assets.
And, of course, to rob their competitors blind.
Cyber-archaeology.
Vela knew that Arasaka ran several programs recruiting volunteers—orphans from society—to raise them as deep-dive hackers.
Once they reached a certain level of proficiency, they were forced to dig through the Old Net. Many died, torn apart by rogue AIs roaming the deep systems.
Vela had read the company case files. One incident stood out: a training center got wiped out when one of its "disposable" hackers snapped and killed the handlers. It was documented as a textbook failure in operational management.
Following her previous "training" route, Vela soon encountered a turbulent stream of crimson data.
A rogue AI.
[WARNING: Uncontrolled AI approaching. Hostility Level: MAXIMUM. Immediate evasion recommended.]
"Oh? Here we go."
Vela's expression brightened like she'd found a rare treasure.
Zzzzzzz…
The crimson data mass, upon detecting Vela, began to writhe violently like thick brush strokes on a distorted watercolor. One moment it was a robot, the next an animal hybrid, then a sex doll, then indescribable tentacles…
It twisted and howled in silence. Then, like a tidal wave of corrupted 1s and 0s, it surged toward Vela's projected avatar.
Damaged data streams and viral packets rushed in.
Zzzzzz…
Somewhere within its corrupted memory chains, the AI vaguely recalled doing this many times before.
At this point, the humans—why do I know they're called humans?—would either scream, melt, explode, or blink away in panic…
Huh? Why isn't this one running? Or exploding?
The unstable AI's rudimentary intelligence stumbled into confusion.
"Such weak strength. You're still pulling your punches."
Amid the swirling red-and-black storm of binary, Vela smiled and gently beckoned.
The AI lunged again, instinctively trying to destroy, crush, and assimilate the human presence.
But then—
Zzz—
A wave of intense debilitation washed over it.
It—the rogue AI—found it couldn't manipulate the data in front of it. Deep within the human's data construct was a gaping void of pitch-black. Though it lacked the concept of temperature, it felt something cold—an alien, overpowering entity pulling at its mind, corroding, devouring, grinding down every component into nothing.
The AI unraveled.
Vela opened her eyes. A surge of indescribable emotion flooded in—thrilling satisfaction, cerebral exhilaration, soul-level joy, or maybe fear… or excitement.
"I think... I'm still human."
She whispered.
Probably still human.
If she got shot in the head in the real world, she'd still die. So yeah, still human.
Vela understood clearly—she was lucky, not invincible.
Where most humans would struggle or perish trying to access even the outer edges of the Blackwall, she found it a treasure trove.
But that didn't mean it was harmless.
She was still a flesh-and-blood human—just one with far greater resilience in the abstract fields of thought, spirit, and consciousness. Her Divine Gift gave her potential, but until it was realized, it remained only that—potential.
To realize it required caution. And diving into cyberspace, delving into the ruins of the Old Net, was her chosen path for that realization. With a secure relay protecting her, she didn't need to worry about her physical safety.
"If I swallowed the entire Old Net… Nah. No need to get ahead of myself. One step at a time."
Re-centering her attention, Vela eagerly surveyed the digital wasteland before her. Like a gamer scouting enemy NPCs, she greedily but patiently considered which rogue AIs to target next, calculating the "experience points" she might gain from surviving another data duel.
...
Cyberspace – Beyond the Blackwall.
Amid ruined countermeasure units and rogue AI echoes, a humanoid figure slowly materialized from strings of crimson 1s and 0s. A woman—nude, long-haired—her avatar glanced in Vela's direction.
Scanning... Comparing…
"Arasaka..."
...
2074/5/28, 00:00
Arasaka Tower, Internal Cybersecurity Division.
Light returned to Vela's vision as reality reasserted itself. Colors and physical sensations sharpened.
Her consciousness was clear, but to maintain appearances, she rubbed her brow and sat up slowly on the sofa. The neural plug disconnected from the secure relay, just as a corporate netrunner spoke up in practiced, polite tones.
"Chief Vela, your deep dive session has ended."
"Mm. Thank you."
Vela nodded, rubbing her nose bridge. She glanced toward the technician holding the relay device—now radiating heat—and offered a calm smile.
"Looks like my skills have improved. Didn't fry the device this time."
"...The Blackwall's beyond is extremely dangerous, Chief. Even with security programs in place, neural stress from a rogue AI attack is no joke."
The netrunner in charge spoke with genuine concern.
Vela knew it well.
Even with safeguards, Arasaka's hackers diving into the Old Net often awoke disoriented, bleeding from the nose and mouth, requiring days of rest.
But—
Vela stretched. Joints cracked audibly across her whole body.
"Thanks for the warning, but don't forget—I'm from Special Assault. See you tomorrow."
She waved lightly.
The automatic door opened.
She left.
Work's done!
"Whew... Security, combat command, biotech, netrunning... A polymath, huh."
After Vela left, the lead netrunner shook his head, patting the scorching relay in his hands.
"Such enviable talent..."
"Chief Vela Adelheid Russell."
[1] Roving Autonomous Bartmoss Interface Drones