Tranquility Lane

Chapter 1

She knew she shouldn't have entered the simulation. The tranquility pod looked so comfortable, with its plush cushioning and feathery pillows. In the end of things, it was just plain deceiving. Just closing her eyes for mere seconds brought her into a place far more hellish than the chaotic Capital Wasteland. She entered Tranquility Lane.

Her vision was blurry at first but gradually cleared. She awoke sitting on a bench with a tree on each side. Citizens strolled on sidewalks, greeting each other cheerfully. Based from reading books found in abandoned buildings, the neighborhood's era was around the 1940-50s, like everything else in the Wastes. Everything seemed normal except her surroundings. The whole neighborhood was in black and white. The Wasteland wasn't the most colorful place, but it at least had different shades of gray and brown. Without color, it gave the neighborhood an eerie feel.

Wondering what time it was, she looked at her Pipboy 3000. To her surprise the Pipboy was gone. Instead, strapped to her wrist was a beat-up Vault Boy wristwatch.

"What the hell," she muttered in a squeaky voice.

Her voice was a child's; what on earth was happening? She glanced down at her body. An angry sigh escaped her mouth. Her once eighteen, curvaceous, muscular body transformed into a flat-chested, wimpy ten-year olds. A single person could take her out easily.

She hesitated, twirling her light brown hair with a single finger, not knowing where to look. Her first guess was a doctor's office, but none were in sight. Finally, she had come to a conclusion: asking around town. The first person she talked to was a tall, semi-balding, fatherly gentleman.

"Hey there, sport. Beautiful day on Tranquility Lane, isn't it?"

"You do know that this is a simulation, right? The Overseer trapped you all in here."

The man gave her strange look. "Maybe you should ease off the comic books and get your head out of the clouds, kiddo. It might do you some good."

Apparently they thought the simulation was real. "Uh . . . right. Listen, have you seen my dad, mister? Tall, graying hair, in his fifties, wearing a lab coat?"

"Sorry kiddo, I haven't. But if I do see him, you'll be the first to know."

Filled with disappointment, she resulted into aimlessly walking around. None of the adults believed that they were in a simulation. But it was so obvious. Did they really think the world was in black and white? Aside from that, information on her father was scarce. No one had seen her father, and she began to doubt herself. What if he wasn't here; what if she was trapped on Tranquility Lane forever?

On her walk she noticed a section in the center of the neighborhood she had not yet explored; the playground. A lone see-saw sat undisturbed under a tree. Three swings swung back and forth from the light breeze. A girl with strawberry-blond, straight, short hair was watering flowers by the swing set, whistling. There was also a dog, most likely hers, standing under a tree, trying to cool down from the blazing sun. She hoped that the girl might help.

Before approaching the girl, Amelia went over to the dog. He was an average dog, no abnormalities seen, unlike the Capital Wasteland. She bent down and scratched behind his ears. She gazed into his eyes. Something looked strangely familiar about them. It was impossible, but . . .

"Can I help you?"

She turned around and came face-to-face with the other girl. Her pink dress with little bows billowed in breeze. Maybe someone her age would be helpful.

"I'm looking for someone. He's a tall man in his fifties, graying hair, and wearing a lab coat. Seen anyone like that?"

She nodded. "I saw him here earlier. He came to talk to Dr. Braun."

"Can you tell me where he is now?"

"Why does that concern you?"

"Because I'm his daughter."

The girl's eyes widened. A smirk spread across her face. "Ah . . . so you're James' daughter. Well, you do look like him."

How did she know his name, she wondered. "My name is Amelia. And you are?"

"I'm Betty."

"Nice to meet you, Betty," Amelia said, shaking her hand. "Now, back to my father, do you know where-"

"Like I said I'm not telling you."

Amelia's lips pursed as she placed her hands on her hips. "Well why not? He is my father after all. I have a reason to know."

"Well," Betty said, picking at her fingernails, "an incentive might in order."

Amelia gave her a cautious look. "What are you getting at?"

"What I'm saying," said Betty, "if you do something for me, maybe I can help you."

Amelia pondered for a moment. Betty seemed like a sleezeball, and not one to be messed with. Due to the current circumstances, Amelia had no choice but to agree. Amelia prayed nothing bad would come from this.

"Great," said Betty with a mischievous smile. "All you have to do is make Timmy Neusbaum cry. I don't care how you go about doing it, just make it happen."

"And who exactly is Timmy Neusbaum?"

Betty pointed to a black-haired boy sitting at a lemonade stand. "That's him over there."

"I'm not sure I can go through with this . . ."

"Oh yes you will," Betty said, trailing off. Suddenly, her voice changed from a light-hearted girl's, to a low man's voice with a Russian accent. "If you don't, you'll never see your father and you'll be stuck here forever. Besides," she said, letting out a low chuckle, "you really don't like being ten again, right?"

By this point, Amelia was quite confused. The inhabitants were always cheerful, and were unaware of the simulation. The neighborhood was all black and white, and Betty's voice had just changed into an older mans. Something was definitely wrong with this place. But there was one thing for certain, her father was here and had to get him out of this hellhole.

"Fine," Amelia said, clenching her fists, "I'll go make Timmy cry."

"Smart move, girl," Betty said in her dark tone. "Do this little favor for me and you and your papa will go home. Now, go."

Amelia walked over to the lemonade stand where Timmy was. A piece of cardboard had the price of lemonade scribbled on the front. Plastic cups stood stacked, waiting to be filled with ice-cold lemonade. Amelia already had a plan. She hoped that her charisma would win him over . . .

His baby blue eyes looked up at her with curiosity. "Hi there, I'm Timmy. Wanna play catch?"

Amelia sighed. This was harder than she thought. "There's something I have to tell you, Timmy. Your parents . . . they're splitting up."

His eyebrows furrowed and he let out a soft laugh. "You're being silly goose, that isn't true. They love each other very much."

"They're getting a divorce later today. And you know why?" Timmy shook his head no. "Because of you."

Timmy's lip quivered. "Y-you're lying. They love me."

Amelia gave a sad smile. "I'm not. In fact, they hate you."

Tears trickled down his face as he began hyperventilating. Timmy tried to brush tears out his eyes, but more formed. He let out a quiet whimper, followed by a loud sob. He got up from his stool at the stand and ran to his house, still wailing and crying.

Amelia stood petrified. His crying plunged daggers into her heart. What kind of heartless person would do something like this? Butch, Moriarty, the list could go on forever. Neither of these people had a single caring bone in their body, and Amelia was just added to this list. It pained her to see this boy cry. All of the sadness this boy now had to endure just for the sake of finding her father? It shook Amelia to the core. She would be having a serious discussion with Betty later.