The only girl in the class sat quietly at her self-assigned metal desk, listening as the African American instructor at the front of the room rattled off the final, superfluous question to the class. Whatever Mr. Brotch was saying went in one ear and out the other. The girl, known to the class as Dragon, was more than aware that the Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test was a load of shit and so she only half-assedly listened to the paragraph-long questions before scribbling down some falsified answer. She could hear the others around her setting their futures in stone as well, the sound of pencils slamming down on the heavy desktops signaling that the exam had, indeed, finally reached its end.
Mr. Brotch turned off the projector in the front of the classroom that had worked to provide visual aids for the most unusual interrogation; no one who had walked in the room only a half hour before had been expecting to see images such as an old woman bearing a gun and a person with a third arm growing out of his gut. Dragon turned her head just enough to catch a look of confusion on a few of her classmates' faces equal to her own. They didn't seem to be understanding the purpose of such a test any better than she was.
The tests were collected and the teacher moved to one of the front corners of the room so that he could make another friendly announcement to the class about his ability to change the results on any of their tests. Dragon began to silently question the validity of life in Vault 117, especially if this was going to be how they handed out lifetime careers to a bunch of sixteen-year-olds.
Life in the vault had never been too bad; everyone had a home and everyone had a family. Of course, everyone was confined specifically to the underground structure composed of little more than small rooms and expansive hallways, but at least there wasn't too much to worry about. After all, they had a seemingly never-ending supply of food and a fresh water supply, and that was a lot more than anyone could say about what was left of the above-ground nuclear wasteland that was a combination of post-apocalyptic Maryland and Virginia.
Prior to the nuclear war that destroyed most of America, several underground vaults were built and a few lucky citizens were given the opportunity to make them their homes. Since then, two generations had passed and humans were still dwelling in at least one of these vaults. This was Dragon's case, and this was the case for all of her classmates as well. Their grandparents had been some of the first to take refuge in the vaults and since the vaults had been sealed off prior to the war, Dragon and her classmates could barely even grasp the concept of what 'outside' really was. They would tell stories about it and, though the stories were almost always the creations of their own imaginations, they would dream about the great outdoors. What their grandparents failed to tell their parents was that outside no longer existed after the bombs had been dropped, and so the message never quite made it to Dragon's generation. As far as she was concerned, the area outside the vault entrance was lined with fruit orchards and packed solid with cute, little, furry animals.
However, facts are facts and the fact was none of them knew what was waiting behind that heavily guarded iron door that led out of Vault 117. Dragon desired knowledge of the outside world, but such a gift was always denied and she was verbally chastised by the adults for reasons she didn't understand whenever she asked questions their lives in the vault. Now that she had reached sixteen, the age in which fellow vault dwellers finally begin treating you like an adult, she had just about fully given up on her pursuit of a less familiar vault education. She wasn't going to keep asking questions if she wasn't going to get any answers. She was too naïve.
Dragon allowed her gaze to follow Mr. Brotch as he made his way over to his desk. In his hand were the crumpled up tests that he had collected moments before. The bottom paper was her own test and everyone could tell since the originally plain back of it bore a work of art she had been drawing in between questions. Great. That meant her test was going to be looked at last, and that meant she was going to be stuck sitting in the classroom the longest.
"Alright, let's see who's up first… Mr. Rovito." A head shot up in the front of the room. It belonged to Ronnie Rovito, the first of Dragon's seven other classmates and, like each of the others, a good friend she had grown up with. "Mr. Rovito, please come up to my desk. That goes for all of you. When I call your name, meet me up front here…" Mr. Brotch trailed off.
Ronnie stood up from his desk and slowly made his way to where the teacher waited. Just about every set of eyes in the room watched him; everyone was curious to know each others' verdicts. Dragon was the only person in the room that let her gaze wander. It fell on each of her classmates and she silently laughed to herself, thinking about how they all looked like zombies staring blankly at the front of the room. In a way, it was sort of true. No one noticed the girl's eyes on them; they were too oblivious for the moment being.
Dragon continued to look around, allowing the thought of zombies to pass from her mind and seeing her friends for who they really were. They were the third generation of vault dwellers in Vault 117, and they were all the best of acquaintances. They were all roughly the same age, ranging anywhere from fifteen-about-to-turn sixteen and sixteen-about-to-turn seventeen. That made sense, as it was one of the vault's many rules that teenagers weren't allowed to take the GOAT until they were sixteen years of age. Laziness was what convinced Mr. Brotch to only give the test once so rather than each of them taking it right after they turned sixteen, they took it as a class when they all fell into the general age group of 'sixteenish.'
All being a similar age, the group got along well as a whole. Of course, like all teenagers, that had certain preferences towards some people and bones to pick with others but overall, they made a great team. From a young age they prowled the halls of the vault, playing hide and seek amongst the various rooms and daring each other to sneak into those rooms that were forbidden. The adults often had trouble keeping an eye on all kids at all times, so they would even take turns sneaking away from the group to go steal an extra snack from the vault's diner or sneak a peek of the overseer's office. Sometimes they were lucky and got away with it. For those that got caught, there was usually a lot of childish pointing and laughing in the days that followed.
Dragon recalled back to the year in which all eight of them had gotten to celebrate their tenth birthdays. It was a year to remember indeed, especially since each birthday party was usually followed by another only a month or so later. The year had been crazy between excessive cake consumption and usually failure efforts to scavenge up birthday gifts for each other. Dragon hadn't really been expecting anything for her own birthday from her friends, so she was especially astounded when they had presented her with a dead radroach they had found in one of the vault's lower levels. What really made that year the best, though, was that they all received their Pip-Boys. The Pip-Boy 3000 was a wrist-mounted supercomputer that everyone in the vault received on their tenth birthday and Dragon's generation was no different. She was the oldest of the group so she had received hers first but out of everyone currently present in the classroom, she probably liked the gadget the least. It was confusing to use and something seemed unethical about being able to read up on all of your vitals at any given moment.
Everyone else in the group seemed right at home with their wrist gadgets, Dragon did everything she could to avoid using it. She glanced at it now though, semi-thankful that it displayed the time in the top right corner. They had already been in that classroom for almost forty minutes and they were just starting to get to the good part.
Ronnie had been standing at Mr. Brotch's desk for a minute now, waiting to hear his results. The African American man took his time skimming over the paper with a clueless look on his face, as if trying to understand how the teen had ended up with his result. "Interesting.... Clinical Test Subject," he started. Ronnie paused for a moment and then his eyes grew big with realization. "...Sounds like something you should excel at. I guess you and our vault doctor will be working closely together."
Around the room, smiles began to spread across everyone's faces. So, that was to be Ronnie's fate. He was doomed to be the test subject of various drugs and scientific experiments. That is… if he didn't just ask for Mr. Brotch to change his result. "Uh… Mr. Brotch…" The teacher looked up from his desk to see his student standing over him with a petrified look on his face. "Could you change my result for me? Please?" The teacher stared at him in silence for a moment being glancing back down to his papers. "Perhaps I'll make you a hairdresser or a pedicurist or something." Ronnie's face didn't change. None of these options seemed to be quite what he was looking for. Mr. Brotch didn't appreciate how the student was staring at him so he raised his hand to point to the door. "As soon as you get your result, please leave my room. The end of this test signifies the end of this class." Ronnie's face shaped itself to show his upset and anger with the teacher, but there was nothing more he could do. Feeling somewhat defeated, he left the class to return to his room in the vault, talking to himself the entire way. "Why do I always get the dumbest results on everything!?!"
"Alright, next…" The class turned their attention from the disappearing test subject to Mr. Brotch. "May I have… let's see… Mr. Hayden?" Two of the guys in the room looked towards each other, then back to the teacher. "Ah. Jimmy, I mean." The older of the two boys stood up and made his way to the front of the room. This was Jimmy Hayden, possibly the tallest member of the vault's third generation. His father was a security officer in the vault and he had been hoping this test would get him into a similar line of work. After all, none of the other jobs in the vault seemed very entertaining. At least if he was a security officer, he'd get to carry around a gun.
"Jimmy… it says here you're perfectly suited for a career as a Waste Management Specialist. A specialist, mind you, not just a dabbler. Congratulations!" Jimmy's looked mirrored Ronnie's. He was stunned into silence, but this silence quickly turned into anger. "What!?! Waste management! WHAT!?! What kind of dumb test is this any way!?" Mr. Brotch cut him off before he could continue. "Sorry, but I'm not changing your result. It's not that bad of a job anyway. I promise." Anger continued to spread further over the teen's face. "AND WHY NOT?" "Because," the teacher started, "We currently don't have any waste management specialists. It's a brand new outcome of this test. Not to mention, I'm tired of emptying the trash cans in the classroom myself…" Jimmy made a few more angry remarks towards Mr. Brotch before taking the same path out of the room that Ronnie had.
Again, all heads turned to the front of the room as they waited to see who the next victim would be. "And I guess I'll look at Connor's test real quick…" Connor Hayden stood up from the desk behind Dragon and moved towards the front of the room. He was Jimmy's younger brother but he was hoping his result would leave him in better standings. He wasn't much of one for doing dirty work anyway. "Connor, Connor, Connor… They say the GOAT never lies. According to this, you're slated to be the next vault Chaplain." Connor tried to hold back his laughter but failed horribly. "Chaplain? So what, I'm supposed to go around the vault and talk about God all day?" Mr. Brotch nodded, glad to see at least one of his students didn't have it out for him. "Prettymuch. It's kind of like being a missionary only… without anyone to convert. You look like you'll fit the job description well though. Salvation should always be the result of assistance. You assist others on their way to religious glory, and you shall be rewarded. Or well… at least… that's what this paper here says." Connor started laughing at how ridiculous his job sounded. In Vault 117, no one cared much for religion. Therefore his job was going to be an easy one.
Connor left and Mr. Brotch picked up the next paper from the stack of tests. "And let us see whose next… Corey!" Corey De Leon hopped up from his desk, clearly the most excited person in the room to see what his result was. He was at the teacher's desk in a second, impatiently waiting for his answer. "Mr. De Leon…" Mr. Brotch started but was quickly interrupted. "What is it? WHAT IS IT?!" The teacher looked up from the paper to see Corey practically jumping around in front of him. "WHAT IS IT! I need to know now! This could be a matter of life and death!" Mr. Brotch, entertained by the student's enthusiasm, purposely spoke as slowly as he could to prolong Corey's pain of impatience. "Ah, Corey. I always thought you'd have a career in professional sports. You're the new vault Little League coach! Congratulations!"
Corey's eyes lit up with excitement at the announcement of his new title. "YES! A COMPLETELY USELESS JOB! I LOVE IT!" He turned to run out of the room, excited to tell his parents about his new title, when he stopped and turned so that he could address the class. "You guys can all be on my team! This is gonna be awesome! I'm gonna go tell my parents, and then I'm gonna find Ronnie and the Hayden brothers and tell them too!" The teen sprinted out of the room only seconds later. "God, help us all…" Dragon mumbled to herself, but the dark haired boy in front of her somehow managed to hear anyway. He turned around in his seat and spoke loud enough for the remaining people in the room to hear. "Hey, it's Connor's job to talk about God, not yours." A scowl spread itself across the girl's face, but Mr. Brotch spoke again before she had the chance to defend herself.
"Blake Bell, how about we see what duty the GOAT has assigned to you?" The dark haired boy stood up, leaving the desk in front of Dragon empty. He approached the instructor's desk and waited for his answer. He smiled slightly; after hearing all of the other ridiculous jobs assigned so far, he was excited to see what stupid assignment he had been left with. "Mr. Bell… it looks like the diner's going to get a new Fry Cook. I'll just say this once: hold the mustard, extra pickles. Ha ha ha." Blake's smile turned completely upside and his immediate response was and obnoxiously loud, "HUH?!?" Mr. Brotch grinned since this dark haired teen clearly couldn't. "That's right, you're a Fry Cook now. One day, you might even be chef material. Do me a favor and try to keep our food safe." Blake spoke as loudly as he could in an attempt to protect his own self dignity, "But only WOMEN should work in the kitchen! And I'm not a woman! Make Dragon do it! She's a girl!"
The other two boys in the classroom started laughing, as did Mr. Brotch. Dragon channeled her anger in a silent glare that she sent to all of them. "Sorry Blake. That's the not-fun job I'm leaving you with." Blake started yelling all sorts of remarks that no one in the room could fully understand. The older of the two remaining guys in the classroom stopped him as he was about to walk out. "Hey, Blake!" The teen stopped, fell silent, and looked towards the boy who called him. "Make me a sandwich?" He clearly mouthed the words 'Fuck you' before walking out of the room.
"Well, that leaves us with three," stated Mr. Brotch. Dragon looked over to the other two guys that were still in the classroom with her. They were the Trela brothers, the older one being named Jarek and the younger, Artur. The three of them sat impatiently as the teacher decided who the next victim would be.
"Ah, the first of the Trelas. Jarek, care to hear your result?" The older boy stood up, but not before commenting on how Mr. Brotch didn't need to tell him anything. He already had it in his head that this test was going to promote him to be the new overseer of the vault. He would be in charge of all…
As soon as Jarek reached the front desk, the teacher's face turned to one of uncertainty and confusion. Clearly he hadn't been expecting the older brother's outcome. "Huh. I wonder who will be brave enough to be your first customer as the vault's new Tattoo Artist. I promise it won't be me…" Jarek looked a bit confused as well, "Are you sure you're looking at the right test? I mean, it sounds to me like you may have accidently switched mine and Artur's results around or something." Behind him, Artur made a face to show his disapproval for his brother's smug comment. Mr. Brotch began to laugh at this remark but checked to make sure it was Jarek's name on the paper anyway, just for his sake. "I'm entirely certain this is your test, Mr. Trela, and the results tell me that you're the new Tattoo Artist…"
Jarek contemplated this for a moment and finally came to the conclusion that being a tattoo artist probably wouldn't be so bad. After all, he doubted any of his friends would want tattoos anyway and the adults certainly wouldn't be getting any, so that meant less work for him. "Alright, I guess I wouldn't mind that job too much. But really, I'm hoping none of the guys in here ask for a tattoo. Drawing on their arm would be fine, but anywhere else would make things… uncomforting…" He then glanced back to the other two in the room before singling Dragon out specifically. "Too bad Dragon is the only girl in this vault who isn't old and unpleasant to look at. If we had any hot girls down here, I'd give them tattoos whenever and wherever they'd want them…"
Dragon narrowed her gaze at him but kept her mouth shut. She'd grown used to all of her friends' random, sexist comments. There was no point in attempting to defend her own, clearly outnumbered gender in the third generation. She just accepted it as an obligation of being the only young girl in the vault.
As soon as he realized no one had anything to say in response to him, Jarek moved to the back of the classroom where the door to exit was. Unlike the others, he waited there instead of walking out and turned around so that he could watch the next person receive their career title.
"And that leads us to you, Artur. Perhaps you're outcome will prove to be a bit more… useful than your brother's." Artur stood up and made his way to the teacher's desk just like all the others had while Dragon made a hushed comment to herself about how none of their jobs seemed useful at all. She was taking a risk by assuming Artur's job would be equally as useless; she rolled her eyes from her self-sarcasm.
Mr. Brotch looked over the younger boy's paper one final time before speaking. "Huh. Vault Loyalty Inspector... I thought that had been phased out decades ago. Well, sounds like a job right up your alley, hmm?" The teacher was familiar with most of the teenagers' antics, including their habits of sneaking into places where they didn't belong. He knew that, at some point or another, they had probably all been inside the overseer's office and private quarters. After all, it's not like a bunch of kids living underground had anything better to do then to get into trouble, and the best way to do it was to pick the locks of private rooms and sneak on in.
Artur didn't have any problem with his job placement. After all, being a loyalty inspector meant he could go just about anywhere or do anything in the vault and use his new title as an excuse. He'd be allowed to go in and out of the overseer's office freely, as well as just about every other off-limits room, even if just to make sure everyone was doing their jobs.
The younger boy's face twisted into a grin as he chewed over his newly found freedom in his mind. Mr. Brotch was suddenly unsure of whether to be pleased that the teen liked his new position or worried about what might become of his independence. "Well, I'm… glad you're already enjoying your title but, if you don't mind, there's still one other person I need to talk to." Artur, not having spoken thus far, finally broke his streak of silence. "Of course."
He turned to walk away, leaving a perturbed Mr. Brotch in his wake. The simple, two-word response had sent a shiver down the older man's spine. He already had a bad feeling that there would never be such a thing as privacy again in the vault. That kid was going to get into everything he didn't belong in… and now he had a legitimate excuse for it.
Artur made it to the door where his brother waited before turning back to face the teacher and speaking. "And Mr. Brotch, one more thing…" The teacher sent him a nod of acknowledgment. "Are YOU doing your job?" He was unsure of how to answer him; he really hadn't been expecting such a question. "I believe I am. After all, isn't putting up with teenagers like you a large portion of my own job description?" Artur didn't respond, but rather sent him an awkward wink and disappeared into the halls with his brother.
Mr. Brotch was slightly taken aback by the student's actions, but he did his best to ignore it. He shook his head and picked up the last test that was sitting in front of him. "Ah, Miss…" A sudden, "No homo!" echoed into the room from the hall. The teacher recognized Artur's voice immediately, but the boy's interruptive comment did little to make his leaving wink any less unsettling. Shaking his head again, he started up once more. "Miss Moreland." He looked up from the paper and to the girl that was now approaching his desk. "So much for ladies first, right?" He started laughing but quickly silenced himself when he noticed Dragon wasn't finding the humor in his remark. "Anyway, let's see what the GOAT has in store for you, Ashley…"
The girl cocked her eyebrow when the teacher mentioned her actual first name. No one in the vault called her Ashley. Ever. That was just the way things were. When she was young, she had received the entirely random nickname Oyster Eating Dragon from her friends and since then, the name Dragon had just sort of stuck.
The teacher stared long and hard at the girl's paper, piecing everything together and nodding in agreement with the test. "Apparently you're management material. You're going to be trained as a Shift Supervisor. Could I be talking to the next Overseer?" Dragon's face remained expressionless; she wasn't at all excited about the possibility of becoming an overseer. It was a boring job that required a lot of boring work. "I'm no leader. I highly doubt it." Mr. Brotch was disappointed by her answer. Dragon seemed to be the kind of kid who capable of keeping her head on straight and so he would have figured she'd be an excellent manager of the vault. However, he found her negativity somewhat discouraging.
"Stranger things have happened…" He attempted to make her believe being an overseer wouldn't be such a difficult task. "I just watched my best friends walk out of this room with a few jobs that I didn't even know existed. One even walked out as a coach for a sport that we can't even play in this vault due to a lack of space, people and… well… teamwork. I'm more than aware that stranger things have happened." Mr. Brotch set the girl's test back down on the desk, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and looked up at the girl. "So, are you saying you wouldn't mind the job?" Dragon shook her head as she answered. "No. I'm just saying stranger things have happened."
The teacher leaned forward in his chair and sighed. He was right, Dragon was charismatic and would probably make the best future overseer of the vault, but there was one problem with her. She was stubborn. "Well, I hope you have a change of heart in the days to come, Miss Moreland. We're going to need a new overseer eventually, and it seems you're the only one of the third generation who'd be able to handle such a title." Dragon stared hard at the teacher for a moment before lowering her gaze to the floor and speaking. "Wow. Then I guess we're all fucked."
With that, the girl left the room and the gaping Mr. Brotch behind her. She had no intentions of becoming the next vault leader and she didn't feel like lending an ear to any more of the man's insightful propaganda.
Dragon moved slowly and silently through the halls of the vault, taking the longest path possible back to her room. Along the way, she noticed at least a few of her friends we're attempting to get a foot in the door with their new jobs. She had seen a less-than-enthusiastic Ronnie through the glass window that separated the hall from the clinic. He was talking to the vault's current doctor, probably trying to get out of having to do his job… ever. A bit further down the hall, Jimmy and Connor were sitting side-by-side on an iron bench. The younger brother was going on and on about a bunch of religious stuff that he could say to everyone in the vault, but there seemed to be a note of sarcasm in every word he said. Jimmy was pretending to be listening to him, but he was clearly too focused on a non-existent object of sudden interest at the far end of the hall to notice a thing the other teen was saying. Dragon didn't bother to stop and talk to them. Instead, she continued to shorten the distance between her and her room on the far side of the vault.
At some point, the girl had seen Corey running down one of the halls perpendicular to her own, wildly swinging a baseball bat and yelling something about being an awesome coach. Other than that, the rest of her walk had been relatively uneventful.
Dragon came to a stop in front of the door that led to her room and started to dig around in one of her vault suit's pockets for her room key. She was interrupted though when the door started to slide open on its own. Before her stood the vault's newest Loyalty Inspector, standing in her doorway with a universal card key in his hand that she assumed the overseer must have given to him. She struggled to finds words and ended up just saying his name, "Artur?" The boy stepped out of her room and past her before speaking himself. "Just checking out all of the rooms I usually don't have access to around here. After all, it is my job you don't have secret, written plans to overthrow the overseer in your room or anything…" He quickly moved off before the girl even had a chance to respond. "Great," she mumbled to herself, "Now I can't even be guaranteed privacy in my own room…"
Dragon stepped into her room and sealed the metal door behind her. She made a mental note to herself to find a way to lock her door so that even someone with a card key for all locks wouldn't be able to get in. She threw herself onto the bed so that she laid with her face buried in the pillow. After all the random things she had seen in the last hour alone, she was ready to call it a day. She never had the chance to fall asleep though…
…..She woke up first.