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Not always. It happens that people live with no cyberware, due to medical requirements, wishing to upgrade, or just for comfort. With this watch, you might be able to buy your way out of it, and remain an employee free of the implant. You're small-time, so your brain ultimately might not be that valuable- they may just let you do it instead of getting a replacement. You would have to get used to a hand-held phone for communication and payments: a relatively trivial price to pay for unhitching your brain, but...
You won't be able to get on the bus. They wouldn't accept someone who just has a bit of hope instead of money to spend on making their way. Getting on the bus with the watch to sell but the implant attached might pose a different kind of risk, but it's unlikely they'll flip the kill switch until it's too late- and once you're out of range, you should be able to get this thing out, as long as you don't get within range of one of the networks that could deliver a kill command. A knife might disable it, though you'll need a surgeon to take it the rest of the way- and you haven't done it because of the risk of hurting yourself or possible excruciating pain if you do things wrong.
Suddenly, an emergency warning flashes on screen:
<span class="mu-r">EMERGENCY</span>
<span class="mu-r">Emerald Alert</span>
<span class="mu-r">Expected duration: 2117-2245</span>
<span class="mu-r">Remain in your place of occupation and close access to outside patrons.</span>
Emerald alerts are for terrorists, so named after the Emerald Front, an ecoterrorist organization that still has members. But... 2117?
You haven't been able to see it thus far given the contract is taking up your view, but you're dumbstruck when you rotate the watch into a position where you can read the face and it shows 21:16. The most recent bus is gone, something that sinks in as you look outside and see that the sun has already fallen below the smoggy horizon and you never noticed. Your head hurts. You've been staring at this stupid contract all day and your mind is breaking. You might be able to hold out on it for a while longer, but this thing is eating up 90% of your vision and not dispelling when you close your eyes. Your brain has adapted to being constantly blasted with mental feedback from the implant, but this is getting to be a step too far.
There's an explosion in audible range. Once the metal launched by the blast finishes clattering, an indistinct masculine battle cry rings out over the flames- some kind of threat? Gunfire is exchanged, but another explosion stirs up your nerves enough to make you close the rolling window and lock Hope Home Cooking up both electronically and physically. A padlock and the 'door' are poor cover against high explosions, but maybe they'll be enough.
