Piper Wright kicked back in her chair and gazed at the terminal. The lines of glowing text had ceased to exist as standalone units of thought; they had taken on shape, form, personality. That was how she knew she was done. Sure, the article wasn't perfect — nothing she wrote ever was — but it was good enough to publish. Good enough for all of Diamond City to read.
Whoever cares enough to read it.
She took this attitude with herself sometimes. It never helped, but, try as she did to block it out, she couldn't deny that self-doubt was an inherent part of her process. An emotional truth, far different from the kind of truth she was used to looking for.
She leaned forward again and took a sip of Nuka-Cola. Everything seemed a bit less sour when she had something sweet to focus on. Such a kid. Seriously though, she told herself, this article was going to be fine — heck, she'd be disappointed if it didn't cause a stir!
She cracked her knuckles and reached for a blank sheet. All she had left to do was write it up as a master copy for the press. Her pen strokes were patient, delicate, futile. No matter what she tried, she couldn't match the calligraphy of papers from before the war. How they got each letter to look so exactly the same as its siblings, serifs and all, was beyond her. But as much as she craved perfection, she knew she didn't need it. What she needed was to get this out, so she could get on the road.
"Don't you think this is going to make people mad with you?" were Nat's first words as she put the master copy down.
Piper laughed like no one else could make her. "Sure do!" She frazzled her sister's hair, and Nat answered with a scrunched nose and bared teeth. The reporter pulled her hand back and continued.
"But that's the risk in this job, isn't it? Diamond City deserves to know when there's a chance that it could be in danger. And honestly, what's the worst they could do in response?"
Nat made another face, this time to say that she was only halfway buying it, but after a moment her expression leveled out. "Sis... do you really think the Mayor is one of them?"
Always asking questions. Piper was proud of her. She sat down and sighed. "I don't know, kiddo..." she trailed off briefly; talking about herself always made her a bit uncomfortable. Nat eyed her. "Really, I don't! I guess that's why I wrote about it. Folks need to remember there are questions still worth asking."
Her sister seemed to accept this answer. She jumped up, her mind clearly shifting gears. "Can I run the printing press again this time?!"
Piper beamed. "I was going to ask if you would! I need to go out of town for a day or two. Got word from a contact. Says they've got a story for us."
Nat nodded, her face instantly stern. "Better get going then, sis. The sooner you leave, the sooner you get back!"
Piper chuckled back and answered in an understanding affirmative. She checked to make sure her pack was stocked, grabbed her press cap, and her scarf — the nights were definitely starting to get cold again.
She turned to Nat before heading out the door. They locked eyes, each one instantly understanding the other. Sisters were like that, regardless of age. Piper loved so much about her sister — her passion, her support. Outside of the paper, Nat was practically all she had. A smile crept over each of their freckled faces, and like that, she was off.
Piper had a tendency to travel alone. She joked about others not being willing to get into trouble like she was, but — honestly? — the truth was, no one seemed to care about things the way that she did. Taking detours to explore something new and unknown. Striking up conversation with wandering settlers, helping out if needed. Even just stopping to admire the wreckage of the ancient, fallen metropolis. This citadel they'd once called Boston.
To have seen this place in its prime. Her feet kept moving, but her mind was lost in the recesses of an unknowable past. How many people must have lived here. How tall and colorful and bold the buildings must have been. She wondered what it would have felt like to ride in a car. And the people — what had they been like? Radiant, majestic, raised to match the grandeur of their own utopia? Or perhaps they were humble, flawed, no different than the likes of her. She wasn't sure which reality would astound her more.
She took a break from daydreaming to get her bearings back. The maze of roads and buildings could still sometimes disorient her. "What I'd give for a map." Or better yet, a guide. Someone to point the way, and maybe keep her company. Who wouldn't judge her for the things she thought and said. She rememberd past adventures when, so full of longing for a friend, she'd spoken out loud to herself, as though addressing some invisible partner, or plotting the narrative of her next article. She had blown her cover in a tight spot more than once, that way.
On second thought, maybe a traveling partner wasn't such a good idea after all. She reached into her pocket for a stick of gum, something to get her mind off things.
Landmarks were starting to line up. Broken billboard, upright lamppost on the opposing corner, a left turn here and — ah, here we are! She'd used this old shop as a rendezvous point before. That didn't make it any less creepy to head into by her lonesome. She reached for her gun, not hoping, but anticipating.
On third thought, yeah, Piper would have definitely welcomed some company right then. Even if only to guard her back.