Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Bethesda.

Project Wanderer

Chapter Twenty Five: There'll Be Some Changes Made

The decorative string lights on the artificial pine tree blinked at a frequency of precisely once every two seconds. Colors from the lights painted the dull grey wall nearby with a mix of red and green, then yellow and blue. Red and green. Yellow and blue.

The tree looked utterly out of place in the laboratory. Yet, once a year, it would make an appearance at this same spot, with the same lights.

Tonight, the lab was empty except for one dark haired man sitting in front of a workstation. But he was not alone. Next to his workstation, a bald man sat, naked from head to toes. The lack of clothings didn't bother that either one, for the naked man was not even a human. It was a robot - a synthetic human.

A small device was attached to the robot's cervical spinal nerve 6. Wires from the device were connected to the workstation, where the scientist was busy typing.

His concentration blocked out the blinking lights on tree. His eyes focused intently on the screen, on the results of the latest experiment, which were less than ideal.

There was an error somewhere in the code, and he intended to find it and fix it.

Frowning at the disappointing outputs, the man nevertheless kept a cool head and reached for his log. Failure was part of the process, trial and error was the foundation of his work. The important thing was to find the mistakes, correct them, and try again.

And sometimes, again, and again, and again.

Eventually, he would get the results he wanted.

On the log, the man meticulously recorded every details, starting with the time and date.

December 24, 2255. 18:45.

To most of his colleagues, tonight was one of the few special nights in a year. Even Dean had picked tonight for marriage proposal. The man briefly wondered if his best friend had better luck with the future wife than he had with his test results.

Christmas Eve. The man could never completely comprehend the need to make this particular day special. He understood the origin of the festival and the myth behind it, of course, but he couldn't see why men and women of science still celebrate a century-old tradition, especially when they didn't even practice the religion to start with.

But then again, the man often found his colleagues hard to understand. As he, no doubt, would appear to be hard to understand for most of them, except for a few good friends. That never bothered him anyway. Being understood was never one of his goals. He had a purpose in this place, a dream that he was chasing. And the dream was sitting right next to him, in a form of a synthetic human.

"Doctor Taylor?" a voice interrupted his work.

Shaun Taylor spared a brief glance at the intruder. "Yes?"

Alan Binet, the young intern with sandy blond hair.

Shaun knew him. In fact, he was the one who had asked for Mr. Binet to join the team. A young man excelled in all his subjects, especially programming and mechanical engineering. With a mind like his, Alan Binet would make a wonderful addition to Robotics.

"The lights are still on," said Binet, "I thought someone forgot to turn them off."

Shaun cast a curious look at the intern. "I thought you left. What are you doing here?"

"Oh!" The young man lit up, although his expressed quickly changed to an embarrassed one, Shaun noticed. "Came back for this." Binet waved at a small box in his hand. "Left this in the office. It's a gift for a… friend."

Female friend, no doubt. Still, Shaun didn't bother to ask. It's not his business.

Binet continued, "And you, sir?"

"Documenting the latest test result," Shaun replied as if he'd asked the most obvious question.

"Er, I mean, it's Christmas Eve."

"And?"

For a split second, the young man was dumbfound. "...And Christmas Eve is a time relax and spend with family and-"

"I don't have any," stated Shaun as nothing but a fact.

The young man's face turned bright red for his mistake, although Shaun wasn't offended, nor was he at all bothered by the fact that he was all alone.

"I-I… I'm sorry."

Shaun waved away the intern's unnecessary concern. "There's nothing to be sorry about, Mr. Binet. I was merely stating a fact. I don't find spending my evenings here as any form of inconvenience. In fact, I find it… relaxing." His gaze wandered to the robot he was diagnosing. "The third-generation models have been vastly improved on in recent years, but there are still a lot of rooms for improvements. As such, there are always testings need to be done, programs need to be fixed."

The flush on the young man's face had subsided as he listened with great interest. "But they are already so lifelike."

"Comparing to the first two generations, no doubt. But we mustn't be satisfied." Shaun pointed at the face of the robot. "Notice their expressions and their movements? They are far from natural. And the way they retain information and subsequently self-correct their mistakes? It's something I've been working on. I hope, one day, they would be indistinguishable from humans. Perhaps even better than us..."

"Better than us?"

"Why not? Why limit ourselves to merely duplicating the most perfect machines? Why not improve on them? Robots don't need to sleep or eat. They don't age."

There was a curious glint in Binet's pale blue eyes as he studied the robot. "Doctor Taylor… If I may…"

"Speak your mind, Mr. Binet."

"...Is it true that the third-gen was created from your DNA?"

"Yes." The exact experiments had become hazy memories, but Shaun would never forget the needles, the bright lights, the cold lab table, and the pain.

"That's incredible! Because of you, mankind has made a step forward to the future. You must be so proud. In some ways, you are the father of the synthetic humans."

Father? Shaun had never considered that.

"Whatever you may have heard," Shaun told the young intern, "leave them all at the door when you enter my laboratory. I am just a scientist, like the everyone else in Robotics. There are deadlines to be met, projects to be done." Speaking of work… "Now, if there's nothing else…"

Just when Shaun was about to focus back on his work, he noticed the young man lingered behind.

Holding back a sigh, Shaun asked, "Yes?"

"If you don't mind, you're more than welcome to join us for dinner. You need a break, Dr. Taylor. Unlike the robots, we humans have to eat."

Perhaps Binet was right, work could wait for a few more hours. The colorful lights blinked on the artificial tree at the corner of the sterile lab, creating a hypnotic effect on human mind. Red and green. Then yellow and blue. An offer than Shaun would refuse under normal circumstances, now seemed somewhat appealing.

And his stomach definitely agreed.

"...Perhaps I shall."

"Wonderful!" The grin on Binet's face was as bright as the lights on the tree. "My mother would be absolutely delighted to see you. My father always talks about your works in Robotics."

"Dr. Binet is an excellent mentor, and a genius in programming. You can certainly learn a lot from your father."

"I prefer to find my own path." Young Binet shrugged. "There's something magical about finding bugs and fixing them. And when the program runs… Nothing in the world beats that feeling."

That was the moment Shaun knew he would get along with this young man.

"I'd better run and deliver this." Alan Binet waved at the forgotten present in his hand. "I'll go on ahead and save you a seat at the table, Dr. Taylor. Don't forget to stop by! After all, we should spend this time of the year with family and friends."

Shaun glanced at a steaming bowl of murky yellow concoction on the table in front of him. "What is this?"

"Chicken soup," his mother told him. "Dr. Volkert said you've hardly eaten anything."

"I don't have the appetite."

"Well, at least give this a try. Your grandma used to cook this for me when I was sick. We don't have the same ingredients here, of course. So I improvised."

After stirring the hot liquid with his spoon, Shaun took a cautious sip. His skepticism turned into surprise upon the first taste. It's hot, savory yet light, and strangely soothing.

"It's… unlike anything I've tasted."

"Pre-war home remedies," his mother said. "I bet it's not in the Institute's database."

"It's not," Shaun replied with all seriousness despite his mother's obvious joking tone. "Our culinary database is limited to items on the cafeteria menu of the CIT, and the recipe records from the Department of Food Science."

"Poor kid…" said the woman who was physically half his age.

"I am no longer a child, Mother."

"Six or sixty, you'd always be my son."

The strange surge of warmth rose from his gut was not a result of the hot soup he had consumed, but from his mother's words. And Shaun had found that he'd grown to like the soothing sensation.

Still, receiving affection was definitely not something Dr. Taylor was used to. Shaun quickly changed the subject, "If your recipes require ingredients that are not available in BioScience, you can submit an inquiry to Dr. Holdren. I'm sure Clayton and his team would be intrigued by the challenge of replicating extinct plants or animals."

"All these trouble for some old world comfort food?"

"It's nothing. Once you've become the director, there will be more privileges."

And just like that, the warmth in his mother's face was gone. "I really don't think this is a job for me, Shaun. It's not my place to lead, and-"

Shaun quickly rose a hand to stop her. "My apologies, Mother. I don't mean to rush your decision. I simply want to make you feel at home."

There was a slight hesitation, Shaun noticed. A split of a second before his mother responded, "My home is where you are, son."

And when I'm not here?

She was uncomfortable, that much was apparent. But why? Shaun wondered. The living condition here was far superior to the dumpster that was the surface world. And, even though he never had a chance to experience it himself, Shaun was certain what they could offer here in the Institute was much more advanced than the old world his mother was used to.

So, why could she not make this her new home?

That was a problem Dr. Shaun Taylor intended to solve.

Quietly, Shaun finished his bowl. "...That was… delicious, Mother. Thank you."

A gentle smile returned to his mother's face. "If your father was here, he would have insisted that you drink his concoction."

"What would it be?"

"Hot Nuka-Cola with ginger. He used to tell me that it's the cure for everything."

Including cancers? "Nuka-Cola? It's a… drink or some sort, isn't it?"

"The most popular soft drink in the entire country. Your father loved it."

"What did it taste like?"

"It's sweet, a bit sour, tingy. Hard to describe."

The topic had ignited his curiosity. Shaun made a quick check on the terminal and read the ingredient list from the database, "Carbonated water, caramel color, aspartame, phosphoric acid, potassium benzoate, natural flavors, citric acid, and caffeine." Then, frowning, he asked, "Was it truly safe to consume?"

His mother laughed. "You know, I did wonder from time to time. I asked your dad, but he said anything could kill you. He'd rather die from diabetes or heart attack. Did I tell you he also loved pizza? Double pepperoni, extra cheese..."

Shaking his head, Shaun concluded, "Father was not what I expected."

Arching an eyebrow, her blue eyes shone curiously at him. "Oh? What did you expect?"

"I… had never given much thought. For years, I simply accepted the way things were. When I found out about you and Father, I began to wondered. You, as a lawyer... I pictured you to be sharp-tongued, aggressive, almost unforgiving. I never expected you to be so… kind. As for Father, I imagined him to be nothing but a soldier. A brute, if you'd forgive my honesty."

His mother didn't seem offended at all. Instead, the smile she gave him was warm, gentle, and comforting, like the soup she'd prepared for him. "You can always speak your mind in front of me, son. That's what families are for. We love each other despite our flaws."

"Despite the flaws? Is it even possible?"

To that, she nodded, seemingly wise beyond her years. "Our flaws make us human, Shaun. When you love someone, when you truly love someone, you accept everything about that person. The good, the bad, the ugly. Your father was far from the dashing war hero many might think he was, but I loved him even more because of that."

"Because of his flaws?" For a moment, the old man thought he'd misheard.

"Your dad… He was a very interesting man. What I will always remember about him… are the things he used to do to make me laugh."

Curious, Shaun then asked, "Tell me more about my father."

"Here. I've always wanted to show you this." From the pocket of her coat, his mother pulled out a holotape and handed it to him. "See for yourself… Or in this case, listen."

"...But everything we do, no matter how hard, we do it for our family," said the man on the holotape. "Now say goodbye, Shaun. Bye bye, say bye bye." A babble and a giggle from an infant was clearly heard. "Bye honey. We love you."

The tape stopped.

Then, there was nothing but silence.

For the fifth time, Shaun reached out and pressed play, then sat back as the voices from the past echoed through his living quarters once again.

"Oops, haha! Keep those little fingers away…"

The old man glanced at his own hands. Long fingers that had typed so many lines of codes are now wrinkled. Had they ever been that little? Shaun couldn't recall. The broken crib in his old house was the only proof that he had once been small.

"Ah, there we go. Just say it, right there. Right there, go ahead." Then, there was a clean voice of a baby giggling. The old man's own voice, once upon a time.

Shaun had no recollection of this taping session, nor could he recall his own father. Yet, there he was, Nathaniel Taylor. His words, his voice, his laughter, all were preserved on an ancient holotape that had survived for more than two centuries and a nuclear war.

"Ah, yay!" The man celebrated as his infant son had made a sound on his cue. If that had called for a celebration, would his father be proud of his lifetime accomplishment?

It was a question Shaun would never get an answer.

"Hi honey, listen… I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a mother you are. But, we're going to anyway. You are kind, and loving…" His recordings was interrupted by the baby's laughter. "And funny, that's right! And patient. So patient, patience of a saint as your mother used to say."

The old man agreed with his father and grandmother's assessment.

"Look, with Shaun and us all being home together, it's been an amazing year. But even so I know our best days are yet to come. There will be changes, sure. Things we'll need to adjust to. I'll rejoin the civilian workforce, you'll shake the dust off your law degree. But everything we do, no matter how hard, we do it for our family. Now say goodbye Shaun. Bye bye, say bye bye. Bye honey, we love you."

Again, the tape stopped, and silence returned to the room.

For the longest moment, the old Shaun Taylor sat quietly in his living quarters, thinking, contemplating on a life that could have been, should have been. A life where he'd grow up in a suburban neighborhood with both a mother and a father. A life with birthday cakes, Halloween costumes, and Christmas trees. A life without needles, painful experiments, and cold hard lab tables.

Of course, it was not possible. Even if he had a time machine, he could not stop a nuclear war. History, simply, could not be changed. It's a fact.

Shaun played the tape once more. In the spotless, comfortably furnished living room, he sat on the couch and listened to his father's message from a lifetime ago.

"...But everything we do, no matter how hard, we do it for our family."

For the family...

For the family.

No matter how hard, his father would do it.

And Shaun knew, so would his mother.

He knew what he had to do.

The lab at Advanced Systems was empty except for a silver haired man sitting in front of a workstation. But he was not alone. Next to his workstation, a figure sat. A boy in white jumpsuit.

Had the man been decades younger, he would be staring at his own mirror image.

"Bring yourself online," said the old man.

The boy opened his eyes.

"Hello, Shaun," said the old man to his younger synthetic self.

Big brown eyes blinked and looked blankly into the same ones on the wrinkled face. "...Hello," the boy replied.

"Do you know who I am?" the old man asked.

"Who are you?"

You. "People here called me… Father."

"Are you my father?"

"No. Who is your father?"

The boy blinked as he recalled the information that had been programmed into him. "Nathaniel Taylor."

"Good. Who is your mother?"

"Nora Bennett."

"Good. And you are?"

"Shaun Taylor."

"Do you remember what happened to your father?"

The boy blinked again, then again. "...No."

"What about your mother?"

"No."

"Do you know where you are?"

The boy slowly looked around the lab. "No."

"We have a lot of work to do, Shaun. Let's begin with-" The old man heard footsteps. "It appears we have company. S9-23 Recall Code Cirrus."

And immediately, the boy shut his eyes. His head dropped slightly as if he had fallen asleep on the chair.

A man in black leather coat stepped in. "Father."

"Ah, there you are," said Shaun to the courser. "You've given your daily report to Dr. Ayo, I supposed."

"As you've instructed," X6-88 replied. The courser paid little to no attention to the child synth by the workstation. "There is a development on the investigation on the leak."

"Go on."

"Dr. Ayo is closing in on one suspect."

"Who?"

"Dr. Binet."

"Alan…"

It was not exactly a surprise, given how outspoken Binet was on some controversial topics. Yet, something didn't feel right.

Shaun knew the man well. Unlike some others, Alan Binet had been nothing but genuine in his kindness to all. Professionally, Binet's role in synth's advancement had been invaluable throughout all these years. So why would Alan Binet release the synths, which he had been programming himself, to the place where he knew would only bring nothing but sufferings?

There was definitely a bug in this equation. It simply didn't add up.

"Dr. Ayo brought a team to search Dr. Binet's office earlier today," X6-88 reported. "But he came back empty-handed."

Because you have the wrong man, Ayo. "Doesn't mean he's giving up, does it?"

"Dr. Ayo is certain."

Of course he is. "What's his next step?"

"To bring Dr. Binet in for interrogation."

"But, to do that, he needs my approval…" Shaun could already see Ayo charging into his office in the morning. He had exactly one night to plan his next move. "Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. And, where is my mother?"

"In her quarters."

"You will keep an eye on her for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Father."

Just when he thought he could have a quiet night working on his pet project... The old man let out a tired breath. "When your enemies have discovered your weakness, they will inevitably use it against you."

"Don't let them."

Shaun arched an eyebrow at the courser.

X6-88 continued, "Turn our weakness into our strength. When our enemies hit, what awaits them is a counter attack that will disable them, maybe even kill them."

Killer instincts. "Perhaps you're right." Shaun opened one of the drawers and retrieved a small box from within. "Here. You've earned it."

"Thank you, sir," said the courser, as emotionless as always.

Although his sunglasses had blocked his eyes, Shaun knew they were widened at the sight of the snack. Fancy Lads Snack Cakes - the synths' favorite food. Researchers had noticed this phenomena for a long time, yet no one knew why the synths loved it to an extend that they were almost addicted to it.

Shaun knew the reason. After all, he was the one who had buried one specific line of code among millions, a simple modification that had caused this behavior. Decades ago, one night in the lab.

"Should I stand guard?" asked X6-88.

"That won't be necessary," said the director. "My battles are not fought with guns, but with wits…"

"Then I feel sorry for your opponents."

"Thank you, X6-88. That will be all."

The dull footsteps of the courser faded into distance, then once again everything returned to silence.

The old man turned back to child he once was. "Now, where were we?"

When the knock came in the morning and the door opened, the person charging in wasn't the head of SRB, but the head of Advanced Systems.

"Do you mind telling me what you were doing in my lab last night, Director?" The woman who marched through his doorstep might sound polite on paper, but her tone and the scowl on her face were anything but pleasant.

Shaun tried not to let his weariness show. "Good morning to you, too, Dr. Li."

As always, Madison Li cut to the chase. "If you are planning to modify my project, I'd appreciate it if you could at least give me a heads up."

"Your project?" No, it's mine.

"S9-23," Li clarified without picked up his subtle jab. "The logs are deleted, of course, but there's only one person that has the clearance to access my station and erase all the tracks." The woman put her hands on her hips and stared down at her superior with a glare of disapproval. "You've made changes to the codes."

"Yes, I have."

"With all due respect, sir," said Dr. Li, who could make the word 'sir' sounded exactly like what she really meant: Asshole. "I am the leader of the project. If you have any request, all you need to do is ask."

"Inspiration comes and goes whenever it pleases. An idea came to me at night, and I thought it was best not to bother you off-hour. Don't worry, Madison, I am very familiar with your lab."

"Guess you know where the snacks are." Li snorted. Her scowl softened a bit as she continued, "I've looked through your handiwork. The changes you made, they're... quite elegant, I admit."

Shaun merely nodded at the compliment.

Dr. Li then asked, "Are you planning to bring him back online soon?"

Him, Shaun noticed. Even Li was treating the synth more and more like a real boy.

"Not yet," Shaun replied. "He's not ready."

"Well, next time you're itching to write some codes, don't bother to cover your tracks. I don't like to take credits for works I didn't do."

"I will tell you next time." Shaun paused before he asked, "There's something else I wanted to ask you. Have you ever tried Nuka-Cola?"

"Have I?" The woman made a noise that was a mix between a snort and a quick chuckle. "Back in the days before Project Purity went online, it was far safer to drink centuries old soda than the so-called water."

"But the ingredients," Shaun pointed out, "the mixture of potassium benzoate and citric acid, with heat and light, could be formed benzene."

"Carcinogen or radiation. Choose your poison. If you ask me, better die from cancers than turning into a ghoul." Li shook her head. "Up there, anything could kill you."

"Yes, I've noticed…"

"How was your trip to the surface?"

"Hell."

"See? What did I tell you? We are living in paradise." She studied him like she was observing one of her projects. "Why did you ask about Nuka-Cola?"

"Curious. I saw one on the surface. Wondered how a two hundred year old soft drink would taste like." The lie came as easy as breathing. And lately, sometimes breathing was more difficult than lying...

"Not fine wine, I can tell you that," said Li. "Ask one of those surface teams to bring you a bottle. My advice: Ice it before you drink it. Makes all the difference in the world."

A knock on the door interrupted the discussion of the century-old drink. Stepping in was a skinny bald man with sharp eyes, the man Shaun had been expecting.

"Great," mumbled Li under her breath. "My day is getting worse, and it's not even lunchtime…"

Finally. Shaun subtly shifted in his chair to sit up straight. "Dr. Ayo. I don't suppose we have meeting this morning, do we?."

"Good morning, sir. And no, we don't." The head of SRB then glanced over to the head of Advanced Systems as if he'd just noticed her. "Oh, and Dr. Li."

Li didn't even bother with any pleasantries. "I'll be in my lab, Director."

"How are you feeling, sir?" asked Ayo with a smile that was so fake even a mask would have looked more sincere. "I've heard you didn't feel too well after your trip to the surface."

"I'm fine," Shaun replied smoothly. "The smell on the surface was pungent. If you had taken the trip with me, you'd understand."

"A trip to the surface? I'll pass. We build synths to do the dirty jobs."

No. We build synths for a better future for mankind! I didn't suffer all the injections and experimentations just for you to be a lazy imbecile, you moron!

Neither his thoughts nor his dismay was shown on the old man's stoic face. "You are not here to talk about my trip, are you?"

"I have something to report, sir." Ayo took a few steps further and stopped right in front of the director's desk. "About the leak. We've narrowed down to one suspect."

"Who is it?"

Ayo looked over his shoulder as if to check if anyone was eavesdropping. Perhaps it was an act, or perhaps it was a habit of his. "...Alan Binet."

"Dr. Binet?" Shaun frowned at the news. His expression was the right mix of surprise and dismay, which was exactly what Ayo would be expecting. "Are you certain?"

"Someone in Robotics has been changing my work crew assignments, replacing synths I approved for surface duty with high flight risks."

"Someone in Robotics? That's all you have?"

"We don't have solid evidence yet," Ayo admitted. "I'm thinking of inviting Dr. Binet down to my office for a… chat."

"Dr. Binet has been a valuable member of Robotics for decades. I will not have you accuse him without any proof."

"Sir, you know as well as I do that Binet thinks synths are people. He even lives with one. It's disturbing!"

"If he thinks synths are people, why would he banish them to the surface?"

To that, Ayo had no answer.

Shaun launched his counterattack. "Your recent trip to Robotics has caused quite a stir. Frankly, Dr. Ayo, I'm tired of hearing complaints from every department about you and your coursers. I want you to stop your investigations."

"But we're getting close! The trail leads to Robotics. You can't ignore this problem!"

"I'm not." Shaun leaned back on his chair and continued, "Your… aggressive methods work well in some cases. But it's proven to be ineffective in a delicate situation like this. Perhaps it's time for a change. Let's try a more subtle approach."

Frowning, Ayo asked, "...What do you propose?"

"We need to investigate without causing a stir. We need someone with… finesse. I have just the person in mind to do the job. "

"Who?"

"My mother."

The skinny bald man looked as though he'd heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. "...Mrs. Taylor? She's an outsider-" That earned Ayo a death glare. "Pardon, she is new to the Institute. She doesn't know anything about us!"

"That's precisely why she is in an unique position to do what you can't," Shaun countered calmly. "She can go about the Institute and learn the ins and outs of every department. People will welcome her with open arms, and most importantly, without any suspicion."

Ayo looked every bit like he was about to explode. But Shaun's logic was sound, both men knew it.

"Mrs. Taylor lacks the skills for investigative works," Ayo argued.

Shaun had anticipated this particular argument. "Ah. Perhaps you are not familiar with the work lawyers used to do. She is exactly what we need. I know you have your doubts about my mother. And it's not just about her ability as an investigator. It's about her loyalty."

Ayo didn't bother to deny the claim. "Her potential ties with the Railroad disturbs me. That man in sunglasses… Montague. We still can't find a clear shot of him from the surveillance. It's like he's knows about the Watchers."

"My mother has told you all she knows about this Montague, hasn't she?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then don't blame your incompetence on her," Shaun snapped. He was not about to overlook the insubordination. Still, he had a plan to sell. "Perhaps we can put your mind at ease by giving her a chance to prove her loyalty."

"...By letting her investigate the missing synths."

Shaun nodded. "If she fails, you can continue with the investigation."

"...Very well, sir. I will assist Mrs. Taylor with the investigation."

"You will not."

"What?"

"It's best if she does it without you looming in the shadows, so to speak. In order for our plan to succeed, her investigation has to be highly classified. Only the three of us know the truth."

"You mean a covert mission."

"Yes, indeed. Officially, your investigation has come to a dead end. The SRB will focus on other assignments for now. My mother will report directly to me if she has any findings, and I will inform you when it comes to a time for an official arrest."

Still, Ayo looked skeptical. Of course, the easy way to solve this problem was to issue an official order for Ayo to back off. But, Shaun wished to maintain the appearance of unity, at least for now.

It's time for a final push. "I want to get this over with, too, Justin," said Shaun, watching as a subtle shock flashed across Ayo's face when he used the man's name. "We can't condone the loss of properties any further."

"Absolutely. I agree."

"Good. Now, the first step is to grant her a security clearance."

"...I see. I will issue level three clearance for Mrs. Taylor. That should be enough."

"Four."

"Four? But that's the executive level-"

"I know what it is." It's the exact same level as yours, Ayo. "Four. We both want to put this matter to rest as soon as possible. After all, we have more than enough problems on our plates..."

It was a risk Shaun had to take, giving his mother as much clearance as he could, only a level below the directorial access. Sooner or later, she would find out everything. Better sooner when he was still around to guide her through her transition.

"...Four it is," Ayo grudgingly agreed.

"Good. Let's do some house cleaning."

A/N: Took a short break during the holidays. And now Project Wanderer is back.

Made a big mistake for not putting it in the at the end of last chapter, but that was the end of Part Two. This is the beginning of Part Three. Like I said before, no big deal, just narrative wise the tone might shift a bit from now on. It goes like this:

Part One: Deacon found Nora. Project Wanderer began. Nora searched for Shaun. Deacon lost Nora.

Part Two: Nora found Shaun. Deacon searched for Nora. Deacon found Nora and the truth, lost her again. Project Wanderer ended.

Part Three: ?

Some of you might be wondering: Where is Deacon? He'll be back next chapter. Will Deacon and Nora meet again? Someday.

"Bring yourself online" was a nod to Westworld. Hot coke with ginger is a real thing, I didn't make that up.

Title: "There'll Be Some Changes Made" - Benny Goodman, 1941.

Thanks for reading! And happy new year!

Contact info: gmail - pinoko19, tumblr - pinoko-k.