In another age, there were two gods. The greater of the two was Mother-In-The-Earth, for she created men and animals, water and leaves and sunlight and everything that could be needed. The other god, Science, was a clever god who saw what Mother-In-The-Earth had made, and came to her one day as they watched a wife comforting a man who had fallen gravely ill.
"Mother-In-The-Earth," said Science, "Do you not see how men are dying? Let me take your herbs and plants and with them I will make medicine for the men."
Mother-In-The-Earth thought for a day, and consented that Science would do this. And so Science made medicine and the men overcame illness, and for a time all was well.
One day after, they watched a man struggle to plow his field before the onset of another cruel winter, pushing his exhausted horse forward until both man and beast were near breaking.
"Mother-In-The-Earth," said Science, "Do you not see how men starve? Let me take their horses and animals and with them I will make servants that do not tire."
Mother-In-The-Earth thought for two days, and consented that Science would do this. And so Science made machines, who could sow endless fields of crops and never falter. Men forgot the pain of hunger, and for a time all was well.
One day after, they watched as men spread across the surface of the earth, becoming so many that they needed more food, more medicine, more resources for everything Science had given them.
"Mother-In-The-Earth," said Science, "Do you not see how the men fight? Let me make take their anger and with them I shall make weapons."
Mother-In-The-Earth thought for three days, for she was in such pain from the actions of men, and consented that Science would do this. And so Science made weapons that could kill the men, and with them men killed one another. The men lessened their numbers, and for a time all was well.
One day after, the men asked Science for something new to give them. Mother-In-The-Earth had become a weak and sickly thing, and now that Science was the greatest god, surely he would bestow upon them new blessings.
"Mother-In-The-Earth," said Science, "Do you not see how the men need more? Let me take your light and I will give to them all the power of the sun."
But Mother-In-The-Earth could no longer answer. And so Science took pieces of the sun and gave them to the men. But the men became jealous of one another, and so did not use their pieces of the sun for crops or medicine or for the people, but used them upon their weapons. And for a time, all was well.
One day after, the men argued and fought, and in their anger they turned to the weapons that Science had given them. Their rage brought down the sun's light all at once upon the earth, and Science watched in despair as Mother-In-The-Earth, who had been silent for so long, screamed in pain. She warped and twisted and burned, her blood boiling the waters and poisoning the air, and in her agony her womb split open, spilling monsters out upon what was left of the land. Those who were left cried out to Mother-In-The-Earth for mercy, but few could be saved. Many men died, or became something worse than men.
Science took what few remained of his followers and fled with them underground to great vaults, dressing them in blue shrouds over their bodies and hiding them away. It is said that when Science's children begin to come forth again, dressed in their blue cloth and wearing machinery, that Science is seeking to return to the world, to scrape at what is left of Mother-In-The-Earth's burnt bones.
That is why we killed the men in the blue suits. Surely it is what Mother-In-The-Earth would want of us.
~Grandpa Fishhook, on the Broken Hooves' discovery of the inhabitants of Vault 48