Chapter 82: Perfect Graduation

A ripperdoc is a profession that lies between an engineer and a doctor. Not only must they be familiar with the installation and calibration of implants, but they must also be well-versed in medical knowledge. Relatively speaking, obtaining a ripperdoc license is somewhat easier, but to become a successful ripperdoc, you need to establish strong relationships with your patients. However, Leo had no intention of switching careers to become a doctor. The assessment for the A-level ripperdoc license requires the doctor to master the installation of spinal implants and conduct compatibility calibration for both the spinal implant and the chip. Leo passed this with ease. On the other hand, a tech specialist is an engineer who understands circuitry, the principles behind implants, and even how to remotely control military-grade robots. People usually focus on whether their ripperdoc is trustworthy, but when mercenaries are backed into a corner, bombs start exploding in the next room, the escape elevator fails to work, and their guns jam, they realize just how important a tech specialist is. Of course, in everyday life, the public also admires tech specialists. However, in such cases, they typically only appreciate those who work at a lower technical level—like braindance editors. The A-level tech specialist assessment is not as simple as editing braindances or calibrating implants. During the exam, Leo had to restore power to a bombed-out corporate factory, allocate the limited backup power to the remaining operational production and defense facilities, protect the factory from being overrun by intruders, and then deliver enough products after the battle. It was mentally exhausting. [Friendly Reminder: The VR system used in this exam will stimulate your nervous system] [In rare cases, it may induce neurological conditions similar to epileptic symptoms] [If you have installed a significant amount of combat cyberware, please disable it before the exam begins] [Participating in the exam implies that you accept and have signed the "Exam Safety Protocol and Liability Waiver"] As Leo connected to the VR pod, he found himself in a dilapidated factory surrounded by crumbling walls and sparking electrical wires. "Power insufficient... Warning, power insufficient." Leo's first move was to connect to the factory's surveillance system, locating a relatively intact weapons cache where combat robots were still inactive. Next, he opened the electrical distribution box— The backup power supply was located in the basement and was still functional. The backup power source couldn't support the entire factory's energy needs, and significant internal wiring damage had caused the factory's paralysis. His first step was to rewire the circuits, directing the backup power solely to the combat robots. "This time, I won't be touching any wires with the back of my hand. This high voltage could latch onto my hand with the current." Leo glanced at his left hand. Old Vic had equipped him with a set of tech gloves, adding a few interfaces to his forearm. To use them, he connected the glove to his personal link and then put it on. The tech gloves would automatically gather information and connect to the user via the personal link. The four skin panels on his arm opened automatically like a machine, the locking mechanism of the glove expanded, securing the glove to his forearm, and four neural links extended to connect to the specialized neural ports. [Cyberware extension connected] The fingertips of the gloves were equipped with voltage detection functions and could be used as regular tools like screwdrivers, wrenches, and even had low-temperature welding capabilities with a small amount of material included. Under Leo's control, the fingers of the glove twisted and welded, quickly completing the power redistribution. All remaining power was channeled into the first robot warehouse, activating the military robots. A total of 16 military robots were activated. Two guarded the factory's breach to repel attacks, four moved to the factory turrets, and two began reconnecting wires. In less than a minute, Leo overwrote the programs of these four robots, initiating repairs and wiring for the turrets. Eight robots entered another military robot storage room, cleared debris, and reconnected wiring. At the two-minute mark, two robots were lost, but the turrets were activated, and the repair robots launched a suicide attack, causing an explosion that sealed the breach. The first wave of the assault was mitigated. At 12 minutes, the second robot warehouse was activated; at 15 minutes, the robots were armed and organized for defense. After 45 minutes, the fourth robot warehouse was activated, the last of the robot storage. An hour and a half later, the factory's turrets were fully operational, with half of the robots engaged in production line repairs, starting the production process again. Three hours in, the robots and Leo successfully repaired the main power source; four hours later, the second production line resumed operation. Six hours in, the fourth production line was back online, but the enemy's attacks intensified, forcing all robots to focus on defense. At the eight-hour mark, the exam concluded with only two robots remaining, delivering 10% more products than expected. During those eight hours, Leo exhausted his mental resources, from restoring power, controlling robots to repair facilities, expanding defense perimeters, resuming production, dismantling, modifying firearms—he faced nearly every technical challenge imaginable. Beyond the technical assessments, he also had to manage resource allocation and logistics, which tested his knowledge of management. It was extreme—extremely challenging. The enemy's combat ability wasn't high. In fact, if you understood all the technical processes involved, the difficulty would seem low. But... it was mentally draining. It made Leo wonder—did that many people really manage to get an A-level tech specialist license? [Exam completed—you have passed] [Due to your outstanding performance, you will receive a 60% refund on your tuition] Transfer: +48,000 Eurodollars. Account balance: 58,000 Eurodollars. [Congratulations, you have been selected for the Arasaka talent pool. There are currently 5,938 available positions waiting for your application. Join Arasaka, and build a brighter future] Leo ignored the latter message and exited the exam. [Psychological stress from the VR simulation has been neutralized] Now, he could pay Old Vic the 10,000 Eurodollars he owed him, with 48,000 Eurodollars still left—pretty good. Leo stretched and walked out of the exam hall. As he reached the entrance of the Arasaka Academy, he spotted a familiar face: David was just walking out of the academy, casually tossing a bag of Arasaka Academy uniforms into the trash. After discarding the bag, David also noticed Leo— "You're—Big Bro!" ... "Impressive." In the Arasaka Academy principal's office, the principal frowned as he reviewed the newly released exam results, realizing something wasn't simple. The A-level ripperdoc exam requires perfection. Beyond that, doctors need to have their own insights in their work. And the seemingly abnormal A-level tech specialist exam isn't meant to be completed to such an extreme degree—it's actually a stress test. The exam is graded, and scoring 60 points is considered passing. But this time, someone had achieved a perfect score—and not just any perfect score. "Dennis Burgerking?" The principal of Arasaka Academy rubbed his bald head, puzzled. With that kind of potential, why attend an adult education program? "What position did he apply for?" In response to the principal's query, the AI replied, "The individual did not apply for any Arasaka position. According to the psychological model's estimation, he harbors strong resentment toward corporations. Low behavioral standards, frequent use of profanity, with a 97% likelihood of a false name, and a high probability of criminal activity." The principal was silent. Low behavioral standards? If this counts as low standards, then it's hard to say whether half of Arasaka Academy's students are literate. A harsh reality is that even children who spend their entire lives studying at Arasaka Academy would struggle to obtain such a license—or rather, they don't really need to. Most of them rely on family connections to secure a managerial position or some other job in the company. Of course, higher-level positions with political implications still require a top-tier university degree. As for those truly involved in technology and research—they still need to attend prestigious universities with strong backgrounds because technical knowledge is highly monopolized. Those caught in the middle face an awkward situation: they can't learn, and they can't rely on connections—ending up in assembly lines for jobs that don't require much skill, just slotting in a chip to get the work done. The honest ones go into the factory, while the less honest ones join action squads or security teams as expendables—everyone has a bright future. But a tech specialist at this level... they have endless applications. "No, I need to give him a call; this is a talent." "...Sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service." The principal stood there, frozen.