Journals from the Wasteland
Elliot's Journal Entry 1 – Wednesday August 23rd 2291
Well, I guess I have a journal now. I don't quite know exactly what I am supposed to be doing with this, but here it is. Mr. Anders gave us the assignment today in class. Well, "assignment" may be a little off. Dad says that everyone in all the schools, on all the decks get the same assignment in 7th grade. I dunno, maybe it's some kind of Vault-wide experiment?
Anyway, as I was saying Mr. Anders said that we were all required to now keep a daily journal in order to expect to pass on to the next grade. He actually seems to really think this will be valuable, so I guess it may be worth it. He wants us to "reflect on your days," in his own words. We should "write down your thoughts, your feelings on what you did during the day." He was explaining this as he moved through the desks handing out the data discs that we'd use to install the journaling program onto the computers in our residences. Of course we weren't going to be using physical journals, paper being as rare as it is in the Vault.
"But what if there's nothing to write about?" Tori asked. Oh Tori, never raising her hand and waiting for permission to speak, you could always see the vein in Mr. Anders forehead pop a little when she talked, but he still never really came down on her too hard, except for the occasional scolding look. I guess he probably has dealt with much worse than a girl speaking out of turn in his years of teaching. How long as he taught anyway?
"Then just list everything you did that day," he said. "The program I'm passing out will send me a notification whenever you make an entry and submit it. That is how I'll be grading you."
Seems fair enough to me. I don't know much about what is allowed on the inter-Vault network and what isn't I've never really used the computer in our residence for much more than homework, so I don't even really know what all we have on the database beyond basic historical records and such. I never even thought that the computers might be able to communicate between each other. I wonder if I could send Thomas a message on it? Something to ask Dad about later maybe.
Thomas is a friend of mine that lives on deck 78, three decks above us. We met when I had gone with my dad on a house call, my dad's a doctor and works out of the clinic on our deck, but since the decks only have so much space available and the decks around us are focused on food production, they don't have the room for clinics, so my dad often helps out on the other decks. He had been called and didn't want to leave me alone, mom was working in the diner, so he brought me along. This was actually pretty typical at the time, I mean that was 3 years ago, so I was only 10. Even in a vault with everyone on top of everyone you don't leave a ten-year-old home alone for hours, right?
Anyway, dad had been called up to deck 78 to check on someone who wasn't feeling well, it was Thomas's mom, I guess she had the flu or something, I don't know. But my dad was in her room doing his examination, and I was left in their common room. Thomas and I passed the time very awkwardly. I mean, two kids that have never met before have all kinds of things to talk about. And so we kind of just sat around for a few minutes. I guess he got tired of the silence because he had suddenly stood up grabbed a comic book off the arm of the couch and then plopped on the floor next to my chair. Holding the comic book up, he asked "Have you read Grognak?"
"Grognak?" I said. "What's Grognak?"
"You don't know Grognak?" The look on his face was pricelss! "How can you not know Grognak?"
"I don't know, I just don't read comicbooks that much."
"Oh! You're really missing out!" And we sat there as he read the book to me, doing all the sound effects and at one point he got so excited he jumped up and started matching the poses and actions from the climatic fight at the end of the issue. It apparently ended on a cliffhanger, and we've never seen the next issue, so we don't know how that fight actually ends. We've spent so much time the past three years playing and pretending different ways for that fight to end. Thomas is of course always Grognak, because barbarians are big and he's really tall; he's always been tall for our age, really. I either am the other one, some unnamed bad guy who looks menacing and has his face covered. I'm sure he really does have some name, really but it's not actually revealed in that issue. Poor Thomas, I hope we find the next issue sometime and that it's still in good condition after over 200 years.
I actually really should see if dad can take me up to 78 to visit Thomas again soon, it's been a couple of weeks since I've seen him.
Sorry I went off on a tangent there, Journal. But I guess Mr. Anders did say that he wanted us to reflect on our lives and happenings, who cares if that was three years ago, right? Oh! Mom's calling me for dinner; I guess I should submit this for the credit and go eat!
Elliot's Journal entry 2 Thursday August 24th 2291
Today was a big day at school! I just got in and had to write about it while it was fresh. We were doing the history lesson for the day. Now that we're in seventh grade our history class is real history instead of the "social studies" they teach the younger kids, so we are finally able to learn a little more about the world before the Great War. It's odd to even think about a world outside of the Vault. Of course as soon as a child is able to start talking we're taught all about how the world was different once, and people lived outside of the Vaults over 200 hundred years ago! But, of course, when the Great War happened, the "hubris of man" (that's what dad says anayway) caused us to let lose massive weapons that destroyed the surface world and made it unbearable for all life because of the left over radiation and destruction. I don't know really how that could happen, but I guess that's why we get our history courses.
So Mr. Anders was walking between the desks and lecturing us on how life came to be in the Vault. "Many years ago, people lived on the surface," he said.
"Yeah, yeah, we know." Billy cut Mr. Anders off, obviously exasperated with the lesson. I guess he thought it was going to be the same old lecture about how we can't leave the Vault, because the Vault has to remain sealed to protect us. Billy always has a short fuse with things.
"Well, if you let me finish," Mr. Anders said. "Yes, you all know that over two hundred years ago, two hundred and twenty-one to be exact, the Great War sparked off and bombs were dropped. Now no one knows who dropped the first bomb, or what sparked off the war, or really even much about the after effects of the war."
"So you're just guessing, you mean?" Tori asked.
"No. I won't make guesses for you. That's for your little minds to run rampant with. We actually know a decent amount thanks to Vault-Tec, you know the company that. . ."
"Yes!" Billy again. "We all know that Vault-Tec built the Vault, and these jumpsuits, and the Pip-Boys!"
"Yes, O.K, moving on again." Mr. Anders said. "What you may not know is we aren't the only Vault. Spread across what was once the entire United States of America, are Vaults much like our own. Hopefully, there are many more survivors in their own Vaults and keeping the human race alive."
"So there's no way that anyone still lives on the surface?" I asked.
"No, that'd just be impossible, Elliot. You see, the bombs that were dropped we nuclear bombs and these spread radiation into the air, and radiation of course, as you all know is very deadly. We do know there were so many of these bombs that the entire world would have been covered in radiation that likely still remains at incredibly high and deadly levels across most of the world."
"You said there were other Vaults though?" Tori asked, paying a bit more attention. Really that's no surprise. Life outside the Vault isn't talked about very much, so when we ever have a chance to hear about it, we do.
"Yes, there are quite a few others, but how many survived the War and how many are still active we don't know. Unfortunately, the Vault-Tec network went down as the bombs dropped. The good news is, you're all lucky! Vault 200 was the biggest and grandest project of all the vaults. You see? We're actually built under what was once the city of Denver. Denver was on top of a large mountain. So when Vault-Tec built this Vault, they had a lot of room to work with. One hundred and fifty decks, all huge, especially relative to the other Vaults, and all the best equipment and technology for food production, water recycling, and medical facilities. Really we are quite lucky to live here."
"So why did Vault-Tec build the vaults? And why didn't they build more and bigger ones to fit all the people? And only in America?" Tori rattled off more questions and everyone in the class went wide-eyed as Mr. Anders took a few steadying breaths.
"Well, there were a lot of factors that led to the bombs being dropped. The relations between communist China and the USA were very stressed for years and they often had resulted in military action. These clashes came to a head when Chinese forces invaded Alaska, and the US forces went to retake it. Not long after this the bombs were dropped and we lose track of what happened outside of our Vault."
"And the rest of the world?" Tori asked again.
"We simply don't know. Now Vault-Tec was a large company. It is possible that they built Vaults around the world, or other organizations did."
"So you just don't know?"
"Yes, sadly. Our history is best picked up with life in the Vault from there." From there, Mr. Anders gave us a lecture on the formation of the Leadership Board. How even before the bombs dropped Vault-Tec had planned made plans for life and governing in the Vault. Every Year we elect members of the Board from each sector, sectors being groups of thirty decks, and then the Leadership Board chooses one "well-respected citizen of the Vault" to be the board's Chairman and act as the head executive of the Vault and lead us.
After the lecture we were dismissed, and this is where my day got even better! Next week is my thirteenth birthday! My dad found me after school, as I was on my way home, to tell me that he and mom had managed to reserve the party room at the diner for me and my friends! This was great, but even better, since thirteen is when you get your Pip-Boy, I knew it was coming, but my dad had been given it early and he let me have it already! I'm not allowed to wear it outside of our residence until after my birthday, you know, because I'm not supposed to have it yet and he doesn't want to get in trouble. But I can play with it now and listen to the radio in my room!
Okay, it's later in the evening, but I just can't sleep so I'm writing a little bit more, maybe that will help. I've been messing with the Pip-Boy for a little while now. It's really very cool! I've been able to figure out most of the functions, and have really enjoyed the Vault's community radio broadcasts over the past hour or so. Kerry Palmer's voice is incredibly soothing. I actually think this will be the best feature of the Pip-Boy, despite how cool the rest of it will be.
I actually really like this one, it's black all over. Both the leather and metal frame of the rig are completely black. It is a little awkward to use, with the dials and buttons being on the right side of the device, but the glove is left handed, so I have to bend my right elbow a little awkwardly to use any of the features. It took a little getting used to but I figured out how to at least turn on the lamp and get comfortable with it.
Anyway, along the right side of the screen, there's a dial switch and a meter or a gauge of some kind at the top. I don't really know what it does, but it's stayed zeroed out since i got the Pip-Boy, so I guess that's good, or maybe the gauge is broken? I'll have to ask my dad about it in the morning. Actually, I don't think I've seen the gauge on his move ever either. His is a little different from mine, in fact, I don't think I've seen an all-black one before.
Anyway, I was messing around with it and looks like there's three main functions, one that actually looks like it take basic health readings while I have it on! I tried to access that tab when I wasn't wearing the device, but that screen just stayed blank. I don't really know what all the read outs mean, but I'm sure it'll be easy to figure out with dad's help.
The next tab lets me enter info about my belongings, what all I have with me and come general information on them. Some of the things I started to input and it pulled up some basic info on it! Maybe the previous owner had put that in there. Or is this somehow connected to the Vault intranetwork? Another question about my Pip-Boy. I wonder who had it previously, all Pip-Boys being passed down as they're made available. I guess I got lucky one was even available at all, I know Thomas had to wait for his almost six months after his birthday.
The last tab is marked simply "DATA." This tab has a ton of different sub-sections too. One lets me make my Journal entries, another is a to-do list, there's a map of the Vault in the next section, and then the controls for the radio. I messed around a lot with these screens, mostly I was trying to get my journal entries on my Pip-Boy instead of the family terminal.
That was where I realized something odd was on my Pip-Boy. Under the "notes" section, where I'm going to start making my journal entries once I can figure out if the program Mr. Anders gave us will work on the Pip-Boy, there were some files that I didn't think should be on there. I guess they forgot to delete everything off of it when it was processed for a new owner. The weird thing was, I opened the files and it was just page after page of random letters and symbols. I looked to see how I might be able to delete them, but a warning screen popped up that said the files were locked for editing. I guess just one more thing I'll have to look into.
Elliot's Journal entry X August 31st 2291
What a day! Finally, my birthday came and it was great! Of course we had to go to school today. We don't really do class parties anymore; Billy saw to that when he threw a party for his gang of friends in the middle of one of Mr. Anders' lectures at the beginning of the semester. He even just ignored Mr. Anders right up to the point that he had to page Billy's parents to come get him. I'm sure it was hell in their quarters that night.
Anyway, I did have to go to school, there wasn't much to mention about, except for on my way into the classroom, Tori stopped me. "Hey, birthday boy!" she said, nearly tackling me from behind.
"Hey Tori," I said "You just couldn't wait until the party?"
"And miss surprising you? Come on, that's what birthdays are for!"
"You know I don't like surprises, Tori."
"You just like ruining my fun, but I got a great one for you!"
That was weird a bit for her, actually. Tori doesn't usually announce her plans to surprise me; she usually just jumps on my back. "Oh? Now I'm worried. What did you do?"
"Nuh-huh, you gotta wait, birthday boy!" She gave her head a little tilt and looked at me hard like she was expecting something weird on my face. "Eh, you'll see later!" she said, turning and heading into the classroom, with a little skip in her step. The rest of the school day was pretty uneventful, I think. I don't actually know since I was way too excited about my party and getting to show off my Pip-Boy.
After school I stopped by the clinic to visit my dad, he had asked me in the morning to come by for my annual birthday check-up. I had almost forgotten until he brought it up at breakfast. Of course, I had my annual checkup. Every Vault citizen goes through a regular yearly physical to make sure we're all fit for our duties. I mean, I guess that makes sense, but I don't know why the children are all supposed to it too. It's not like we have jobs yet. I'm still three years away from my G.O.A.T. But if I have to do it, I'll get it over with.
Turns out there was more to this physical than I thought. We went through the normal bits of poking me and pinching and various things being put in my mouth and ears. I really have no idea how my dad does his job. I really have no idea about medicine at all, to my embarrassment. The other kids will ask me about the human body, or just assume I know things because my dad's a doctor. I mostly just nod along with whatever guesses they make and pretend I know what the words they're using mean.
But after all the normal exam stuff, my dad pulled out the Pip-Boy. He strapped it to my wrist and explained out the first tab worked. I guess what I had figured out wasn't quite everything. He took a wire from the computer terminal on the desk and plugged it into an auxiliary port on my Pip-Boy. Apparently he could set my defaults and this would give my Pip-Boy a more particular read out my own health. I thought it just did vitals, but I guess it can do a lot more! He explained how that read out can give me general sense of how healthy I really am and what I might need to look at. I guess this will take some more know-how than I thought.
After he had explained the health functions of the Pip-Boy until he thought I knew how to use it (ummm well, I can try!), he unplugged the wire and lifted me off the exam table with an overly exaggerated "oof" and telling me he doesn't know how much longer he'll be able to lift me. I laugh and humor him, but really he'll probably always be able to lift me! I'm still short for my age, the shortest person in my class by a full inch, and I'm pretty scrawny too. My mom says I have a great sprinter's body, but I don't really know how relevant that is when the longest straight line on our deck is about two hundred feet. Anyway, he set me down, and we walked to the diner.
My dad went through first and once I turned the corner the room erupted into "Happy Birthday"s and Tori was once again almost knocking me down with a running hug. Behind her Thomas was laughing and clapping at my attempt to regain balance. He always did enjoy watching me be clumsy. I swear, it's not fair! He's tall, skinny, but so not clumsy. Guess other people just get to win the physical lottery.
Thomas came up to us as Tori was prying herself off me and nearly knocked the air out of me with a big tight hug of his own. "Happy Birthday, little bro!" he said, patting my back. I thanked him as soon as I could catch my breath after he let me go.
"You could say it without crushing my lungs you know."
"Oh like you even know what lungs are good for," he said. He always likes to tease me on how little I know about the human body.
"I still know I have them and they're important!" He gave my back another hearty pat and led me into the party room where it seemed like half the deck was. The adults all found themselves talking in a bunch of different groups in that way that adults do when they're gathered together for a specific purpose but not actually required to do anything. They wish me a happy birthday as I walked past them with a curt nod or a warm smile. All-in-all this really helped me realize how many people I knew around me all the time, how many of them cared enough to at least show up and wish me well. Yeah, there was food that didn't cost extra ration slips or caps at the party, but it was a pretty thin spread, mostly some fruit and cheese plates, no meat. My parent's would really wish they could do that for me, but meat was so expensive to get outside normal ration allotment. Murphy, our deck's Mr. Handy was serving food out on tiny plates to anyone that walked by. Looks like his normal arm attachments (a buzzsaw for some reason and some graspers) had been been replaced for the occasion with a spatula and some tongs, the work of Tyler Hardin, a worker from the machining shop on deck 80. He and my dad were good friends and he always seemed to like going out of the way to do my dad favors.
I was picking at some apple slices when Tyler came up to me and asked me if I was enjoying the party. I said I was and thanked him for modding Murphy to make him better for serving food the party. "Modding?" he asked, "I don't know what you're talking about." He ended his sentence with a wink. Of course he wouldn't want that to be too public knowledge, as making modifications to Vault equipment was of course very against the rules. That doesn't really ever stop anyone, but still better if the security team doesn't know what happened to Murphy's buzzsaw hand.
The party was a lot of fun and many of our neighbors, adults and kids were happy to come up and wish me the best. I even got a few presents! Of course, most people only give presents to their close family members, what with there only being so much extra property to go around, but Thomas gave me a bandana that was just like one he wore to cover his face when he was helping his dad in the hydroponics bay, his dad being a farm supervisor in one of the large food production bays on Deck 78; they probably grew some of the apples we had at the party! He said his mom had been able find some matching fabric and mend it for me so that when we played we could be on the same team. Thomas added I would be the side-kick of course.
Everyone had started to leave to party and my parents were talking quietly and being all mushy while they half-heartedly helped Murphy and Tyler clean up the extra food and put it away in the diner's refrigeration unit. I told them I was going to go home, I still had my homework to do and I wanted to catch the VCR (Vault Community Radio) show before bed. As I turned the corner towards the Deck's residence block, I nearly tripped over Tori. She was leaning against the wall in some shadows and the blue of her jumpsuit blended into the metal of the bulkhead behind her, she had her hands behind her back and was looking at her feet like there was something interesting painted on the floor. I followed her gaze and, nope nothing there. "Hey Tori, you ok?" I asked. I wasn't quite sure how to deal with a quiet Tori.
Her face shot up in a huge smile, and some of her super dark hair fell in from fo her eyes, which she pushed back with her hand after trying to blow it out of her eyes a few times. "Of course! It's still your birthday, right?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Good," she said. She brought her hands around and they were holding a small bag. "Here, I still have to give you your present!" I took the offered bag and before I could open it she leaned down (man even Tori is taller than me!) and kissed my cheek.
I stood frozen for a second. Only my mom had ever done such a thing. The sound of Tori's footsteps pinging off the metal floor down the hallway brought me back to the real world in time to see her stop and wave before disappearing down her passage. I wandered back to our quarters then to my room on autopilot. I wasn't thinking at all, or I was thinking so fast I couldn't keep track. One of the two. I sat on my bed and turned on the radio and finally remembered the bag. I still can't believe what Tori gave me! A cupcake! An actual cupcake with frosting and everything! My mom always tells me how hard it is even for the diner to get steady supplies of sugar and flour, milk and eggs. This must have cost Tori a fortune of caps to get just the ingredients. I lifted the desert out of the bag like a priceless treasure. On the bottom of the bag was written in Tori's messy handwriting "Enjoy!" So I sat back on my bed and did just that.
Salvage Log - November 30 2303
I have to admit, I did not expect to still be in the New Vegas area one month later, yet here I am. Really it hasn't been so bad. The people of Goodsprings have been nice enough to put up with Dogmeat and me for the past few weeks though. When I finally got past the NCR's Mojave Outpost, they had directed me here as a good starting point. I had asked around about Vaults in the area, or if there were any old Vault-Tec offices in New Vegas. Pretty much everyone at the outpost was certain that there were a number of Vaults in the area, but that was the best they could give me. Apparently the Mojave outpost is more concerned with handling policing contraband and customs from the caravans coming into the Vegas Wasteland than they are with patrolling very wide. The major in command could only really give me two good leads: that the troops at Camp McCarren may have more information for me and that Goodsprings would be a good place to ask around from the locals.
Knowing the NCR, I figured I'd try my luck with the locals first, so after waiting four days at the Mojave for them to clear me through (thank you, caravan license, for holding me up as often as not). I'm not quite sure how a man, a dog, and a two headed brahmin with udders as big as a Mr. Handy count as a caravan, but there it is. Anyway, I came down to Goodsprings and started introducing myself around. As I walked into town from the south, I apparently managed to catch the eye of a woman sitting on a porch rail at the only "saloon" in town. She was lazily trimming pieces of some kind of meat off a skewer and tossing them to a dog that sat at her side, watching the woman's knife hand as she cut the meat and tossed into the air. She was doing a good job of obviously keeping an eye on me while not obviously watching me. It's a look I've gotten used to any time I come through one of these smaller settlements in the wastes. The easy, almost relaxed way her hands stayed close to the rifle propped against the rail was pretty common too. "Howdy, stranger," she called from the porch when I was in earshot.
"Hey there," I said. "Is this Goodsprings?"
"Yeah, you got the right place." She stood up off the rail, slung the rifle over her should and walked over to me. "You a trader?" she asked with a nod towards my loaded down brahmin.
"Nope, traveling salvager. Martin Stiles," I said, extending my hand.
She shook it heartily, and introduced herself as Sunny Smiles. "Smiles" Heh. Well, Sunny couldn't be better named. even at that first meeting she could hardly keep herself form bouncing as she explained that she had taken i upon herself to protect the town and people of Goodsprings. "They've been good to me, you see? They're good to everyone," she'd said. "I just couldn't bare the thought of everyone here being left without a decent hunter or someone to keep the raiders at bay, not that they're defenseless mind you. So don't get any ideas, huh?" She winked with this statement to make it seem like a joke, but something in her voice seemed a little too harsh. I may have chuckled a bit; I don't remember.
Sunny turned to overlook the settlement and pointed out each building, making doubly sure to point Doc Mitchell's house at the top of the hill. "You'll probably need to visit him at some point," she said. "Well, maybe you won't you do have a lot of guns afterall." She had apparently been looking me over and took note. To be fair, I did have a lot of guns on me at the time, or really all the time, but that's life in the wasteland. I generally have so many guns because I don't have much ammunition for any particular one, and I just want to make sure I have options.
"Well, I tend to do pretty ok without a Doctor," I said. "But glad to know there's doctor nearby. She finished her visual tour with the gas station on the top of the hill. All the gas has been depleted she told me, but it's still a good "local attraction." If I were ever heading back that way, I'd have to take her to the Hub. I'm sure it would blow her mind. When she finally stopped proclaiming all that was wonderful about Goodsprings and the surrounding area, I was finally able to get to the point of why I was there. I asked her about and Vaults she knew of in the area. She said she had heard of a few, and of course there was Vault 22 on the Strip, but that's more a museum than a real Vault, she explained. When I asked her if she'd be able to show me where the Vaults were, though, she said that she really hadn't ever actually been to any of them.
It's unfortunate, but I'm still here. I've been searching the surrounding area for more clues to the Vaults' locations. I'm beginning to get frustrated, but at least Sunny, or rather Trudy, who runs the Prospector's Saloon and more or less the settlement, have let me stay in the gas station, so I have some shelter from the desert heat and cold. Man I always heard nightmare stories about the heat and dryness out here, but no one mentioned how cold it gets overnight. But anyway, the gas station has an old mattress set up from when a caravan worker was squatting here a couple of years ago to hide out from a local gang of escaped prisoners. From what Lucky Pete, an old curmudgeon of a "prospector" that spends his days in a rocking chair on the porch of the Saloon. Apparently a prospector his how he describes being a salvager. Either way, he's been really helpful with pointing me in the direction of some valuable sights and possible leads on Vaults, but nothing that's come to fruition yet. Tomorrow is another day. Maybe I'll get lucky. I just need one document, or map, anything that even hints at the location of Vault 200.
