The following documents and records were retrieved from Vault 13 by archivist Jamilyn Steele shortly after the Followers of the Apocalypse took possession of the vault in 2262. They are preserved here as a written artifact of the years immediately following the Great War.

We have always assumed (without properly questioning the assumption) that the first generation to grow up after the bombs understood even better than we what humanity had gambled and lost in the Great War, The reality I attempt to show in my book, however, is that they were men and women as limited and short-sighted as those alive today. They neither accepted responsibility, nor fully understood their obligation to look forward and do better.

This chapter, however, contains the epistolary autobiography of an innocent - a girl born just fifteen years before the War to a military family. Her account of events, jejune and selfish though it sometimes is, is a genuine reaction to the traumatic shift that has shaped us all and is therefore worthy of empathy and study.


10/19/77, Concord

Dear Diary,

Mom got a call from Aunt Helen tonight. They don't think Marcia is going to make it. The accident crushed her chest and and did something to her brain. The doctors are saying she'll never wake up! I always told her I was going to get my license when I turned 15, just like she did this summer, but now I'm scared to even think about driving.

Mom's talking about "saying goodbye" and "packing a dress for the funeral" now. I can't do this. She's my only cousin, and I can't imagine her dead. I was going to visit them over Christmas and we were all going to climb Mt. Whitney together. This feels unreal.

Uncle Hank is getting sent home from Anchorage tomorrow. I wish Dad could come, too. I don't want to go to California without him - it's all the way on the the other side of the country. But he has to stay on base in Alaska.

I got yelled at when I asked who was going to feed Rowdy while we're gone. "Family's more important than dogs." Probably we'll leave him with grandma, even though she hates animals.

Maybe I'll wake up and this will all have been a dream… if not, we're flying into Lone Pine Airport tomorrow.

Current Mood: sad.

~Alia


10/22/77, Lone Pine, CA

Dear Diary,

Fuck. Today was awful. I always wanted to meet Marcia's friends, but not like this. She died before we even got here, and poor Aunt Helen and Uncle Hank had to figure out her fucking funeral. Mom helped, but still. I could hear them crying in their room last night. Aunt Helen looked… like a ghost today. A ghost in a black dress. Marcia looked perfect - they fixed her head, put her in the dress she was going to wear to the Winter Formal. She could have been sleeping if I hadn't known she was dead. It was the saddest, most horrible thing I've ever seen.

Uncle Hank wore his uniform to the funeral. Every time I looked over at him, I thought it was Dad for a second. They look so much alike, even though they're not twins - Henry is two years older. I caught him looking at me and crying… I wonder if I remind him of Marcia. Maybe we shouldn't have come. I don't know how people survive stuff like this. I swear, I'm never going to have a husband or kids or anything, because I don't want to lose someone I love.

I want to go home, but Mom says we have to stay until Monday. She says we're going to help Helen go through Marcia's stuff. Tomorrow is Saturday, and we're going to go scatter her ashes on her favorite hiking travels with some of her friends. I still can't believe she's gone.

Current mood: see last entry.

~Alia


VAULT-TEC RECORD FOR JAMESON, HENRY P.

PLACES RESERVED IN VAULT 13: 3 (MILITARY WAIVER)

SELF (ADULT MALE, B. 01/02/2040)

SPOUSE (ADULT FEMALE, B. 11/29/2041)

DEPENDENT CHILD (ADOLESCENT FEMALE, B. 07/29/2062)

LUGGAGE NOT TO EXCEED ONE (1) PERSONAL BAG EACH.


11/30/2077, Vault-fucking-13

Dear Diary,

I haven't been able to focus, write, or even think for a month now. Just opening my journal and seeing the last entry was too hard. It's a big, fat reminder that Mom's not here. That she and Dad are probably dead. But I'm glad I brought it, I guess. It's like the only thing I have from before, except for the clothes I was wearing… that I'm not allowed to wear anymore.

I hate this vault suit. I hate the vault. I wish Aunt Helen and Uncle Henry hadn't listened to Mom when she begged them to take me with them. To put me in Marcia's spot. She was crying when she pushed me forward. The soldiers wouldn't let her watch me through the fence, but forced her away.

I miss my family. I miss Rowdy. I don't know who starting launching missiles or why, but they killed almost everybody and destroyed everything I cared about and I hate them. I hope they're dead too.

The Overseer says that school starts tomorrow for everybody under 18. I don't know if I'm ready, but I guess it doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore.

-Alia

PS: Uncle Hank says my birthday has to be the same as Marcia's now, since I took her spot in the vault. Because I'm "ADOLESCENT FEMALE, B. 07/29/2062," not Alia anymore. He says it probably wouldn't matter - especially a few years from now, if we end up staying that long - but for now we're hiding that I'm not their real daughter. My birthday is actually December 10th. I'm going to be 15, and I definitely won't be getting my license.


12/10/2077, Living Quarters

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me… happy birthday dear A-li-a… happy birthday to me.

Well, it's almost midnight now and it looks like Helen and Hank forgot. I don't blame them. We're not a real family, anyway. She's a ghost who works as a nurse in the clinic and he's a ghost who works in security. Neither of them talk to me much. They wish I was Marcia and I wish I was too. Then I'd still have parents.

School is boring and there's only about six kids close to my age. I can't wait until I'm 18 and I'll get to work full-time instead and get my own living quarters. There's a lot of unused space because not everybody on the list showed up to take their place in the vault and I might get a whole family unit to myself. Why the hell couldn't the people waiting outside have come in then, huh?

Current mood: mad.

~Alia


05/16/2078, Cafeteria

Overseer Childers just walked up and asked why I was wasting paper and I told him to fuck off, that this was my journal. I'm afraid he'll have someone take it away from me. I'm going to hide it under my mattress when I get home today.

The food sucks here.

Aunt Helen's going to have a baby. She told me this morning. I blurted out that I thought she was too old, and she looked like she was going to cry. I feel bad and I know I need to apologize but, really, isn't 36 too old?

Current mood: guilty.

~Alia


10/23/2078, Vault 13

We had a sort of assembly today with everybody out in the main concourse. It was supposed to be a memorial and a re-dedication to the "principles of the vault," whatever that means. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help crying my eyes out when I heard other people talking. It made everything feel fresh and horrible all over again. I've started to realize that we might never leave the vault, and I think my GOAT test next month might just assign me the job of "local crazy person," because that's how I feel right now about spending my whole life here.

Aunt Helen's getting really big. She says that if it's a girl they'll name it after my mother and me: Amy Alia Jameson. If it's a boy, they'll name it after my dad, Thomas. Thomas Henry. Uncle Hank and I have been talking about him a lot lately. We both really miss him, and I've enjoyed the stories he's been telling me about their life on base when they were stationed together.

The kids here really aren't too bad. We were all pretty much in shock for the first six months or so, but this is slowly starting to feel normal. The oldest boy in my class, Lionel Brown, has been really nice to talk to about family and pets and stuff. The only animals we have in the vault are tilapia, and you just can't love a tilapia. I miss Rowdy. Lionel left two cats behind when his family evacuated, so he gets that. I like him a lot.

~Alia Penelope Jameson

~Alia Penelope Brown

~Mrs. Alia P. Brown


07/29/2079, Living Quarters

Happy fake birthday to me!

The bright side to having Marcia's birthday is that I'm 17 now, at least on paper, and I get more responsibilities and a little less school. I'm training as a nutritionist (thank you, GOAT exam) and that means I spend a lot of time in the kitchens learning how to make boring food - mostly vegetables - a little tastier. It's kind of fun.

My baby cousin, Amy, is about six months old and she is so cute. Aunt Helen and Uncle Hank have woken up since she was born. She hasn't replaced Marcia any more than I could, but she's made them really happy. I'm glad for them.

Lionel and I are dating. He's really smart and when he turns 18 - next month - he'll be apprenticing in the engineering department. I hope he'll still hang out with a kid like me when he's an official grown-up. Heh.

We've been down here almost two years. I find myself forgetting the details of stuff like shopping with friends, being outside, wearing clothes that aren't vault suits, etc. I hope I can remember all of that long enough to tell my kids about it someday. Does it matter? Maybe not. But I want them to know that life hasn't always been like this.

Current mood: optimistic?

~Alia


VAULT-TEC RECORDS

RECORD OF MARRIAGE

LIONEL G. BROWN WED ALIA P. JAMESON ON 8/5/2080.


3/17/2088, Living Quarters

Dear Diary,

I found this when I was cleaning our shelves to make room for the kids' toys. The "writing" part of me has mostly disappeared in the years since I graduated and got married - yes, I do keep a personal log on the main terminal, but it's not the same. Mostly notes from my work.

Most of the pages of this journal are still blank. It's painful to read the few entries I did write down, but it's important that they remain. I think I'll pass this book on to my oldest daughter, Marcia, when she's 12 or so. I wish a wiser person than me could have recorded their thoughts of those early years - I'd like to read such a book. Lionel thinks deeply about things, but he doesn't commit those thoughts to anything so insecure as a journal.

For my last entry, here's a record of the important dates for our family thus far:

Lionel and I were married on August 5th, 2080. Almost 8 years now. I was so young then, but I don't regret it a bit.

Our first daughter, Marcia Leigh, was born on July 15th, 2082.

Our first son, Thomas Henry, was born on September 10th, 2083. He died the same day.

Our second daughter, Emily June, was born on April 22nd, 2085.

Our second son (and last child), Henry Thomas, was born on January 11th, 2088.

The future, our history, the protection that the vault gives us all… is for them. Our children. God protect them from an uncertain future.

Current mood: Content. Peaceful.

~ Alia Brown