Announcement: Club Atlantis

On about thirty outdoor screens somewhere in Wellsprings, holographic pixels glitch around a floating image of a chrome Mr. Studd penis implant coated in synthetic skin. “Don’t be soft. Mr. Studd: All night, every night.”

The neon glare intensifies as Just Ads barrels forward to the next ad. A synthesized voice blares through cracked sidewalk speakers along with jarring generic lazrpop: “TIRED OF BEING HUMAN? Introducing SynthSkin™ Scalp Implants! Bald? Patchy? Pathetic? For just 2999 eddies, we’ll fuse military-grade synth-follicles DIRECTLY INTO YOUR SKULL! Sweatproof! Bullet-resistant! Comes in 17 radioactive hues! Side effects may include spontaneous cranial combustion or crushing existential dread. Void where sanity applies.”

The ad flickers out, replaced by the glowing silhouette of Night City’s skyline. Just Ads stutters back to life, projecting a pixelated woman shoving a glowin burrito into her mouth: “All Foods now offers the NANOTACO™! Now with 90% more micro-plastics! The meat? We legally can’t say!”