The Memory Den

When I woke up for the second time, the bright sunlight peeking through the rips in the window curtains announced it was probably just after noon. Sleep had restored my mental equilibrium, but I still had very mixed emotions roiling inside. Take things one step at a time, I guess. And that next step would be to sell our haul and collect the reward. Still sore from the mission, I dragged myself out of bed to find MacCready.

Like a true mercenary, he had taken the opportunity to catch some sleep as well. He was curled up on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, hat knocked to the floor. In repose, the habitual frown and furrowed brows were smoothed, giving him a much more unguarded, youthful appearance, almost pleasantly attractive. I stood there, watching his even, quiet breathing, trying to square this too-young image with the ruthless gunman who had helped eliminate well over a dozen people just a few hours ago.

"Yeah, that's not creepy at all, boss." One deep blue eye cracked open a hint to peer disapprovingly at me. I squeaked, feeling my face heat up, and coughed apologetically.

"Sorry."

He sat up, yawning. "Feeling better?" was all he asked.

At Kill or Be Killed, KL-E-0 was more than willing to barter caps and ammunition for our haul. That is to say, MacCready received caps. I got to keep the rifle and laser pistol in exchange for my spoils. We both replenished the rounds we had spent obtaining our goods and walked away from the shopfront in good order.

In The Third Rail, we found Hancock and the ever-present Fahrenheit partaking of the bartender's services. We approached the bar, sliding in to sit next to them with a nod of greeting. Charlie addressed us as soon as he noticed us. "I've heard some exterminator cleaned out the rats in the old warehouses. Wouldn't know anything about that, would ya?"

Oh, that's how we're going to play it, huh? "One Pied Piper, at your service." I tried hard to keep my voice light, but some frustration still seeped in. Next to me, MacCready grinned sardonically and I suddenly recalled our conversation the night before. Music, damn it. "The rats, as you say, have been taken care of."

"Ah yes, indeed!" beamed the robot, as much as one could beam, anyway, "Here's the payment for your, errrr... performance." A jingling bag landed on the bar in front of me. I took it, deciding to split it with MacCready later. "So, what'll it be today?"

"Beer and food for two."

We soon made lunch a memory. "So," drawled Hancock next to me from the other side of my bodyguard. "First job already? Nice, sister." He gave me a friendly pat on the back and a flirtatious grin.

"Yeah, Hancock," MacCready said over my shoulder. "Cleaning up the warehouses in town. I don't suppose you were in on that one, since we picked it up from here."

"Here in town?" The mayor took a puff on his ubiquitous inhaler, pondering for a moment before letting out a laugh. "Oh yeah, forgot about that one!" He leaned in to whisper to me, "Politics; brutal as ever, ya dig?" Ignoring my involuntary shudder, he added a bit louder. "Looks like you got enough there to give Irma in the Memory Den a visit. She charges 100 caps a session."

"What will she do? Will she help me get home?" I asked, hopefully, counting the fee into a spare scrap of cloth.

"Truth to tell, Sunshine, the Den's a place where people go to relive their memories." Hancock explained. "We can't figure out how to get you home if we don't know how you got here." On my other side, MacCready had lit a cigarette and took a drag, listening closely.

"All I saw was a bright flash, I told you." I protested, stifling a sneeze at the wafting smoke.

"That's all you remember," the Ghoul emphasized. "But with three of us," and he motioned to include Fahrenheit and MacCready in his count, "going over the memory, we may spot something you missed."

"Is that even possible?" I asked, stunned. "To watch someone else's memories?" My nose stuffed up, and I dabbed at it absently.

"Why not? I think it's all a matter of how the lounger is programmed." Tossing some caps on the counter, Hancock stepped away, motioning for us to follow him. "We won't find out here. Let's go pay Irma a visit."

"All righh—achoo!" I sneezed violently, grabbing for a napkin, a tissue, anything to clear my nose. "Damn cigarette smoke," I muttered, "makes me sneeze."

"Oh, for the love of..." griped MacCready, stubbing out the cigarette with a resentful flourish. "Fine, I need to cut down anyway." He slouched off the chair. "Let's go, then...Boss."

The Memory Den was an old burlesque theater that had been revamped to house several high-tech lounge pods in a large central room. Most were occupied, glass-paneled lids closed on people who were apparently deep into reliving their memories. Other than a small radio playing music in the background, it was eerily quiet. On a raised platform in the back of the room lounged an elegantly dressed beautiful older woman who greeted us with a low throaty chuckle. "Hancock, you bring a guest!"

"Hey there, Irma. Got a puzzle for you and Amari." Oozing charm, he sidled up to the proprietor's chaise longue, taking the lady's hand and placing a delicate kiss with withered lips. "A paying puzzle, before you go turning us away."

Irma met Hancock's gaze for a long, long moment before replying. "All right. We're not currently accepting new clients, but for you I'm willing to make an exception, just this once." She looked at the small group in front of her. "Who is the client, and what is the puzzle?"

I stepped forward. "It's me, ma'am." I couldn't help the military formality, and a gentle smile warmed her lips at the courtesy. "I don't know how I got here, and maybe, if they can see my memories, we can figure out what happened and how to get me home." I held out the makeshift pouch with the required caps. "Please?"

"Hmmm," she voiced thoughtfully, as the caps disappeared from my hand. "Not my usual request. Dr. Amari?" she called behind her.

"Coming, Irma," a strongly accented voice called from behind the back wall. A moment later, a thin woman with a severe dark haircut and pristine white lab coat appeared. "What do you need?"

"Hello, dear. See what you can do to help this young lady, please." Irma waved one graceful hand in my direction. "She says she wants to show her memories to her friends here, not relive them. Can you do that?"

Dr. Amari stood quietly for a moment, holding her chin in a thoughtful pose. "Difficult. But yes, I think we can do that." She added, quickly, "Not out here. We'll have to use the lab. Come with me, please."

Behind the old burlesque stage, a set of stairs led down into a room lined wall-to-wall with various computer equipment. Large machines whirred quietly to themselves, and two or three scattered screens scrolled endless lines of text. Placed equidistant from each other were two pod loungers like the ones upstairs, but with additional controls and cables sprawling away towards the bank of equipment behind them. A few random metal tables and two-seat couches filled the rest of the wall space. Dr. Amari was already tapping away at one of the computers by the time we made it down the stairs.

"All right. Will the client please seat herself in the open lounger. The rest of you can observe on this screen, but don't touch anything." At her words, the pod on the left hissed open, revealing a comfortable looking reclining seat inside. I clambered inside, and the pod hissed closed again, cutting off any sound from without. A screen lowered in front of my face, an old test graphic emblazoned with the words "Please Stand By."

"All right," Dr. Amari's no-nonsense voice sounded tinny in the pod's speakers near my ears. "I am going to want you to close your eyes, you won't need the screen, and think of your most recent memory of home." The instructions sounded simple enough, but my stomach was beginning to flutter. "Ah, you have a Pip-Boy? Excellent. Take the interface attachment and plug it into the flashing port, if you would be so kind. Thank you."

Plugging into the pod caused a light quivering to thrill along my nerves, an almost dizzying feeling. I gratefully closed my eyes against the vertigo, and focused on home. Home. The word seemed to take on greater meaning and depth as I tried to remember as much as I could. "Yes, that's right," the tinny voice buzzed from a great distance, "I think we're getting something. Just relax, I'll take it from here."

The electrical pulse flared and I lost consciousness.

-0-

The buzz of a voice slowly came into lucidity. "...coming around now. Listen to me. Can you hear me? What is your name?" The voice paused, and I turned the words over in my mind, bringing recognition to consciousness. "Open your eyes, slowly, if you can. Listen to me. Can you hear me? What is your name?"

"Mmmm...ugh," I forced one eye open a crack and immediately regretting it as light speared into the back of by head. "Ow. I can hear you." My voice sounded odd in the confines of the pod, slurred and uneven.

"That's promising," the voice soothed, brusquely. "Now for some cognitive tests. What is your name?"

I tried opening my eyes again, this time with a little more success, squinting at the light. "Anne."

"Good, good." A pause. "What is one plus two?"

"Three."

"Good. If I threw a baseball at your head, what would you do?" The questions were coming faster.

"Duck?"

"Excellent. All right, I'm going to open the pod now. You've been in there for quite a while, so be careful and take your time exiting." The glass panel opened up with a hiss of hydraulics and a dusty odor. Sitting up to detach my Pip-Boy from the pod's system gave me a moment to see the four faces of my observers. Dr. Amari had a look of professional concern. Hancock was grinning broadly, lightly tossing a small jingling bag of bottlecaps. Next to him, Fahrenheit scowled darkly at the bag Hancock was holding, her fingers tapping an irritated rhythm on her crossed arms. MacCready stood leaning against the door frame, face completely expressionless, eyes staring fixedly at me.

Getting out of the pod was a bit more difficult than getting in. Hancock graciously offered me his hand, which I took gratefully. Once I straightened mostly upright, he switched his arm to hold me around my waist, chuckling happily. "I knew your story was too crazy not to be true. Thanks to you and Dr. Amari, I won my bet with Fahrenheit." Not completely steady on my feet, I leaned into the Ghoul's support. He was warm and stronger than he looked if he was able to hold me upright. Spying a couch near the door, I leaned in its direction, half-pulling Hancock over with me to sit down. Dr. Amari followed, a small orange and white disk file in her hand.

"When you plugged your Pip-Boy into the lounger, it created some kind of feedback into your system, almost overwhelming my equipment." She paused to add in an aggrieved tone, "I was unaware that your Pip-Boy is actually connected to you, internally. This is the first time I have ever heard of such a thing, and it lends veracity to your story, along with your memories." The doctor tapped the back of my hand, pointing out the buried sensors. "Intriguing."

"Have you seen anything like this before?" I asked, not daring to hope.

"Hmm," she pondered. "Not to this level of sophistication. I have heard of cybernetic enhancements, but they are extremely rare, only able to be made by certain organizations with the technology and resources lost to the rest of us." At my crestfallen expression, she reluctantly added, "this is far beyond anything I've ever seen before. That flash, the disintegration of the world around you..."

"I thought I dreamed that." I said, startled.

"Oh no, that was quite real. It happened, and you went from there," and she pointed down, "to here. Quite astounding, really."

"Do you have any idea how it happened?" I pressed, almost begging.

"I do not." Three words that would change my life, again. That's it. I'm stuck here. I put my suddenly heavy head in my hands, cupping my glasses.

"However..."

"Aw, come on Dr. Amari," Hancock implored the oblivious woman, "stop dancing around the subject; you're driving the poor girl out of her mind. Do you know someone who might know what's going on here? Our friend just wants to leave our delightful company and go back where she came from." To this jab, he added slyly, "not that I blame her, after seeing her home!" He gave me a wink and a lopsided grin when I raised my head to look at him.

Dr. Amari stiffened at Hancock's words. "I... might know of an organization." She added quickly, emphasizing, "but I can't say much more than that! I do know they don't have the technology to pull something like this," and here she waved the small disk in her hand, "off. However, they have some of the most brilliant minds I've ever known." She turned to address me directly, "With your permission, I can send a message to this group and see if they're able to, and interested in helping you out."

"Yes!" I agreed unequivocally, "yes, please! Is there anything else I need to do?"

"No. Yes." Dr. Amari corrected herself. "Go out and show that you're worthy of being helped. There are lots of nasty things out there in the Commonwealth. The more you stop them from hurting people just trying to make an honest living, the better. If this group likes what they see, they'll contact you. Good luck."

"Thank you, Doctor." I said with all the grace I could muster. Great, more killing, I couldn't help the bitter thought.

"You're welcome." She handed me the disk. "Hold on to this. It's a compilation of the most relevant memories we discovered pertaining to your... travel... here. Someone with the right expertise might find it useful." Once I secured the disk in my jacket, she added, "The mind is a very delicate thing, and you've been through a lot recently. Be careful out there." With that parting advice, she turned back to her work and we made our way back up the stairs.

Irma called me over as we passed her couch, "I couldn't help overhearing what was going on. I have a friend. Nick Valentine. He works out of Diamond City. If you need information, trust me honey, he's the best." She gave my hand a quick, encouraging squeeze, then let me go to catch up with the others.

I caught up with them just as we stepped out into the square. "Wait a minute?" I asked, startled. "How long was I in that thing?"

The sun had already set, faint stars gleaming overhead beyond the blaze of neon signs and dingy streetlamps. I stopped short, staring at the three as they turned around. Hancock was the only one to answer, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "Longer than normal. We, uh," and he appeared to choose his words very carefully, "we had to examine your memory in detail, and Dr. Amari had the good idea to record what happened to you on that disk." He didn't quite meet my gaze. "It took a while."

Now why don't I quite believe he's telling the truth? I felt the blood drain from my face, followed by a rush of embarrassed anger. There are some memories that never need to see the light of day. Fuck! How much did they see?

"So, Sunshine," he said in a more upbeat drawl, abruptly changing the subject. "looks like you have some do-gooding to do, if you're going to attract the attention of this mysterious organization Dr. Amari can't talk about... and keep your bargain with me." He rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "So, decide where you want to go, and go do good!" Grabbing Fahrenheit into a quick twirl before releasing her to glower at him, Hancock sauntered back to the Old State House and his office, humming "doo bee good bee dood bee goo" in a light tenor rasp. Fahrenheit followed a few steps behind.