A/N: Previously titled 'Heritage'. That's the name of Part 1, but I figured that since FF dot net doesn't have the AO3 system of creating SERIES, I decided I wouldn't separate anything here, and therefore, this will be called by its Series Name here. Pre-War Myths.
Testing the waters with this idea I had a few months ago. We'll see where it goes.
Fallout is one of my favorite series, not just in gaming. But I'm no expert in its lore. I just really like it. So why not mix it with this weird parody anime about personified nations? I'll maintain the Fallout vibe and avoid the Hetalian-style of comedy, though.
This is a Fallout x Hetalia treated seriously, so whatever could go wrong here…?
Summary for these two, in case someone in unfamiliar with either.
Hetalia: A silly Japanese webcomic about personified nations. It's parody and comedy, generally, but the fandom usually handles these characters with great flexibility, usually creating a personal version of their personalities that fits the genre they're writing. So these characters can either be wacky and cute, or dark and powerful.
Fallout: A game set a world that ended in a nuclear apocalypse, in the remains of a futurist 50's version of America.
PART 1 – HERITAGE
01
The Lucky Soul
…
.
.
.
…War…
War never changes.
The Romans raged war to gather slaves and wealth.
Spain built an empire from its lust for gold and territory.
Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic super-power.
But war never changes.
In the 21st century, war was still waged over the resources that could be acquired. Only this time, the spoils of war were also its weapons.
Petroleum and uranium.
For these resources, China would invade Alaska; the US would annex Canada, and the European Commonwealth would dissolve into quarreling, bickering nation-states, bent on controlling the last remaining resources on Earth.
In 2077, the storm of world war had come again…
…In two brief hours, most of the planet was reduced to cinders, and from the ashes of nuclear devastation, a new civilization would struggle to arise.
A few were able to reach the relative safety of the underground Vaults.
Imprisoned safely behind the large Vault door, under a mountain of stone, generations have lived without knowledge of the outside world.
This is Vault 101.
On that fateful day, when fire rained from the sky, the giant steel door of Vault 101 slid closed and never reopened.
It is here we are born. It is here we die.
Because in Vault 101, we have a mission.
.
.
.
I
…It was for the sake of his child.
Or at least… that's what James told himself when he brought little Daniel to this vault.
His baby boy needed a safe place to grow up. James's dreams were mostly crushed by his beloved wife's passing…
With Project Purity seemingly in a dead-end, with barriers and difficulties arising left and right, hope dwindling every other day, her death felt like an overwhelming blow, and he could no longer stand on his own two feet for the project.
Another objective took over his mind then. Daniel had to be safe.
Thus, here they are, in a vault…
James sighed, having finished rearranging his new desk in the medbay. One of the handfuls of such rooms, given to him after all the health and radiation checks determined his genes weren't too twisted beyond the norm – and once he'd proven to be a rather competent physician as well.
Daniel's presence helped…
It seems the people of the vault were rather sentimental when it came to small children…
They faintly heard his son crying from the other end of the door, before James even had the chance to knock.
The vault, though…
It was big.
Bigger than he thought vaults would be. It seemed to house, easily, a thousand people and it could probably squeeze more if needed – it was probably the sheer size of a small city, underground, which was a lot for a vault…
Several floors of residential quarters; large communal spaces; a very grand cafeteria, with a high ceiling and an open floor above, with several connected rooms for food and water production and supply; a wide atrium, rooms for recreation connected all-around to it…
The Overseer's Office, too, was bigger than he knew them to be…
From what he heard, it was one of the vaults in near vicinity of DC that he was willing to trek across the Wasteland with a baby to reach. Most of the others were either too far, behind too much Wasteland wildlife – or were dead.
The dead vaults had plenty of horror stories surrounding them, from brave scavengers who escaped with their lives or from the traders' rumor mill that surrounded vaults in general.
He knew them to be cramped, dark, rusty, and cruel.
This one, however, was always closed. It opened to no one. Wastelanders have tried – raiders have tried.
No one ever got inside Vault 101.
Although, there were undoubtedly known vault-dwellers who left it in the past…
The only two things people knew for sure was that it thrived, and that it was religious.
So, the Wastelanders knew it had people, possibly zealots, possibly moralistic, but the people inside didn't seem to trust the outside world, not one bit.
So, information on it was scarce.
Those who left it were often well-equipped, but also distant and quiet, traveling for unknown reasons, and people were unsure of whether or not they actually came back to it.
James was lucky, he supposed… It was fortunate enough that Paladin Cross was so willing to escort him and his child to Megaton, it's entirely possible James wouldn't have been able to keep his boy safe otherwise…
But Overseer Williams's mercy was also incredibly fortuitous…
James had only briefly met the man, a gray-haired and tired man who expressly told him what he expected out of his act of mercy…
Not a lot of good-will from the vault-dwellers, but most certainly, effort on James's part.
He's given a vault suit and told to fit in. "Work hard and respect our rules, and you'll be able to stay." Overseer Williams told him, before handing him to someone else and getting back to work.
James was lucky in the end…
A metallic knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie – he looked up. A man stood in a neat vault-suit and glasses, a clipboard under his arm.
The gray armband stood out, however… Five indigo stars around a lone white star, all within a circle… James tries not to focus on it.
"You seem to have settled well." The man commented, looking around his desk. His tone was neutral.
James sits still, hand nuzzling his knuckle. "I have to thank you people again, for giving us a chance. We really needed it…"
The man frowned before his expression softened. "At least you're civil… We don't think too kindly of the outside world. Or, well, most of us don't." He shrugged and approached, offering a hand. "The name is Mark Winters, by the way. I'm the Head-Teacher of Vault 101."
James stood to accept the handshake with a nod and a thin smile. "James Cross, glad to meet you."
Fit in, James was told… He needed a surname, something he and many Wastelanders lacked… As a 'thank you' and gesture of honor, James would take the Paladin's surname, with his blessing, of course…
His wife would have liked this particular surname…
These dwellers are friendlier than he expected, though, thankfully…
But certainly distant, just as he heard…
Winters nodded in return, taking a step back and looking down at the clipboard. "Now… I'm not here to chat. I'm here to give you the basics of how things work around our little home underground."
Ha… 'Little', how modest…
James sat down again, a tinge of hesitation in his mind. Every vault, from the rumors he hears, always had something fishy around it. Something that happened before its social collapse – or structural collapse.
Something the people in it were doing… Something dark… It was common sense in the Wasteland to avoid vaults for a reason…
He hoped nothing too horrible was happening in this one – everything looked okay – the people looked okay and happy, if not merely suspicious of him…
Winters had his eyes on the papers of the clipboard, drawing a pen and noting something on it. "First, since you're from the outside, your genes are not completely pure, so, neither you nor your son are allowed to create families here. If you do, we'll have to ask you to leave along with the genetically compromised."
James frowns and looks away. He wasn't looking to start a family – not when he's lost the love of his life, not when he already had a child…
But Daniel… It seemed rather cruel to deny the boy such a thing, especially when he'd be growing up here and would most certainly have a crush at some point…
But this place was the safest place they could possibly be in… James would leave this talk for the future. "I understand."
"Good. Second, since you've brought your son here, we'll take that as consent to educate him as we do to all our children. He'll go to our classrooms and learn what we teach everyone, starting when he turns 2." He gave a pointed look to James, pointing the pen for emphasis too. "No homeschooling."
James unconsciously tapped his foot, looking away briefly. "…May I at least know what you'll be teaching him…?"
Winters turned back to the papers, seemingly not offended by the suspicion. "Nothing nefarious. It'll start with lessons on cooperation with other kids, and to respect the elders, and how not to be loud and fussy and unruly. Basic discipline for children. It'll last until he's 4, when he'll be considered fully socialized. I ask that you do not try to interfere. Children who fail to be socialized, and display sociopathic tendencies by the age of 4, are considered beyond correction. Then he'll not be given citizenship, he'll not be allowed any firearms or a job, and we'll ask him to leave by the time he's 15 at most."
James mulled over the thought for a few seconds. "Daniel is a quiet child… I'm sure he won't give you trouble…" Beyond correction…? By the mere age of 4? And asking him to leave at 15? It sounded cruelly harsh for such a safe environment… "What else?"
He's always thought of vault-dwellers as less likely to adopt Wasteland morals while safe inside a functioning vault…
Winters nodded with a small smile. "Good to hear…" He became serious once again. "Once he's 4, he'll start basic schooling. Reading and writing, counting, teamwork and competitive play, drawing, that sort of thing…"
That part seems very good…
Winters paced a few steps into the room, back turned to James, and he stood straight with his arms behind, still holding the clipboard and pen. "And also, at this age, the child will learn about the Soul."
James blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"
Winters turned back, eyes narrowing. "Here on Vault 101, our ancestors were given a task in case the bombs fell. A mission if you will."
James leaned back on his seat slowly, shoulders tense.
Winters continued. "Our task was to protect something. Something that lays deep within our home. It's what we call the Soul." He gestured with the pen in hand. "The Soul is a literal relic from the Old World, a living remnant of America that this vault keeps alive through our nationalistic spirit. Without that, the Soul will wither and die."
What in the world…? James raised an eyebrow.
Before he could utter a question, Winters continued, approaching his desk and resting both hands over it. "You are not to ask about it, or about where it is. As Overseer Williams instructed me to tell you, if you pose even the slightest threat to the culture that keeps the Soul alive, you'll be kicked out immediately, and the child will remain here. If you attempt to find it and try to reach it, you'll be shot on sight. Is that clear, Mr. Cross…?"
James remained outwardly stoic, but his mind had all sorts of questions floating about. He nodded slowly. "Understood, Mr. Winters."
Winters watched him closely for a few more seconds, before he stood straight, pulling up the edge of a paper from the clipboard, reading. "Good. Now, do you wish to know more about the children's curriculum, or do you wish to move on and discuss your job here in the vault?"
The tense atmosphere dissipated slowly. "I want to hear a little more about what Daniel will be learning, if it's not much to ask."
They go over the education that would be given to Daniel in the years to come, followed by James's own job and responsibilities right after, and it took roughly an hour to get it over it.
Only when James is alone, he sighs, ruffling his hair as he leans heavily on his elbows over the desk.
Some things made sense now, of course… On his way inside, he saw plenty, but nothing tickled any bone of suspicion in him then. It was all hints and little details.
The American flags were the first sign, but he'd figured it normal for some vaults still functioning… He wasn't sure, of course. There were women in vault-dresses reminiscent of those he saw in the old billboards left from the pre-war country, the visible celebration of American culture in colors and decoration, the music in the radio, all which made him think it was a holiday of sorts within the vault…
It probably wasn't. This is the vault on a normal day.
It was as Americana as it could get, and James wasn't sure he liked, considering how the utterances of these people reminded him– ever so slightly– of the Enclave's idea of values from the old horror stories he's heard in his youth.
Maybe he had some bias… But he felt justified in being rather mistrustful.
And then, this soul they talked about…
That was an odd thing.
Every vault seemed to have something fishy if not destructive in its structure, almost like an experiment, and James judged this whole soul-business to be it for Vault 101.
He didn't know what it really was, though. He was curious, of course, but… he was told that poking around would only get him into trouble. He was no citizen of this vault, first of all.
And maybe if he worked hard and gained their trust after years, he could be an honorary citizen. But not a full-fledged citizen.
Maybe they'd lower they guard around him, and he'd have more flexibility to do experiments… Maybe…
Daniel would be a citizen, though. He'd be schooled and taught the vault's values and be raised in their culture. But more importantly, he'd be safe.
Because, as he eventually learns, one aspect of the vault that James appreciated, was that these people seemed to absolutely value their own.
Every citizen had intrinsic value, because every citizen was connected to this soul-thing. Therefore, every negative emotion, every murder, every social conflict, every bit of resentment and bitterness, it all went to back to the soul, and it all poisoned it… according to these people.
As skeptical as James felt… the idea at least kept these people together and protective of their own.
They didn't trust James. But they also didn't mistreat Daniel. They treated his child as any other child…
James supposed that he shouldn't be trying to unveil some dark conspiracy…
This vault worked.
It had a very religious zealotry when it came to this 'soul' beneath its central structure, and its culture was rigid in its optimistic approach of the pre-war country, but as long as James didn't question the soul's veracity, or tried poking around, or demeaned their love of all things America, the people mellowed down and gave him a chance…
So James slowly relented.
II
The room – residence – he gets for himself and his son is a small, compact space on the fifth and last residential floor.
It's made to cramp at least four individuals if it had bunkbeds, maybe five if you squeeze a crib in, maybe six if someone deigned to sleep on the small couch.
But it only had two beds that could be pushed to fit together in the bedroom, connected to the living/dining room through a doorless archway, which in turn links to a tiny T-turn where laundry appliances are crammed it, and that leads to a tiny bathroom and a tinier storage room.
The living/dining room had a couch in the middle, with a small table and two chairs right behind it. Appliances and decoration circled around this set of furniture, including a small television set, an empty desk by the window, and a stand with a radio on the other end.
The ceiling is just high enough for a tall person to stand straight on the tip of their toes, but James doubted he could jump in this place without bumping his head hard…
It all previously belonged to an elderly couple that passed away not long ago, but James wasn't going to complain.
This was more comfortable than anything out in the Wasteland, not at all like he expected… He sees a somewhat worn but decent carpet, the walls aren't rusty, but are painted with an aged but clean and comfortable beige color, there's electricity, and clean water from the tap, there's a working shower-stall in the bathroom, and the toilet works very well…
It was downright luxurious by James's standards. He honestly expected– and was ready to accept– a cold, gray box devoid of life.
But this wasn't that.
The only window in the room had blinds that could be closed reliably, and he couldn't hear much of anything beyond the walls, even less so with the front door closed. Privacy wasn't an issue.
Each residence– all lined up with a number for each– linked to the common area, a wide room, with two levels of residences packed close, presumably all with this same amount of quality.
The elevator was pretty spacious and right at the center, in front of a comfortably wide set of stairs to reach the second row of residences above his, and with a narrower set of stairs leading down behind. He knows that upstairs there's another one, leading up to the next floor as well.
Outside was where the residents of this floor often gathered socially, mostly to let their children play in the pen of green carpet that wanted very badly to resemble grass, or just to talk and have lunch with their neighbors around the small tables and chairs that surrounded it.
James doesn't miss how they eye him suspiciously at first, not quite letting their children near.
James isn't so much offended as he is awed at how healthy and careless said children look…
Children of the Wasteland are often scraggly, alone, armed, dirty, shifty, quiet, and cautious…
The children in the vault look well-fed, with friends or parents, unarmed, clean-cut, curious, somewhat rambunctious, and playful!
Their parents too have some minute differences, obviously due to their safe upbringing… The women are smaller, the men are less rugged…
It's quite fascinating to watch.
Eventually, he gets confronted for his 'watching,' of course. James decides that merely telling the truth is the best course of action.
The vault-dwellers mellow down slightly to him soon after.
His clumsy attempts at parenting also garner sympathy, mostly from mothers, when they notice he has a hard time getting Daniel to actually alert him to a problem.
Like all Wasteland children tend to be– adapted genetics, or parental feedback– Daniel is quiet. Too quiet, maybe, as crying loudly in the Wasteland can be deadly.
It's why his crying by the vault's door was so unexpected and baffling at the time.
But in here, he's still not at all like the vault-children, who cry so loudly sometimes, James has to cringe in response when he hears it even inside his residence.
But, as the floor's residents warmed up to his presence, so did their willingness to help him with Daniel's needs– since he wasn't making much of a fuss to demand sustenance.
His crying was now 'whimpers and tears', and he quieted down at the slightest reprimand… It turns out that's not 'normal baby behavior'.
The vault-babies were like pre-war babies, then. Daniel is just different.
James wasn't looking forward to explaining this to his son when he grew enough to understand this…
III
The vault had a surprising but inordinate amount of politics in it.
James wasn't exactly thrilled about it, but he was partially glad to be exempt from the whole process.
From what he knew of vaults, they tended to have one leader, and one leader alone. Scavengers and explorers never spoke of a vaster system speaking its truth in what's left of the dead vaults, through terminals, holotapes, and papers…
But he sees this first-hand on his way to work when a denizen of his floor wears an armband and stops by multiple residences to speak and listen to the people who lived in them.
James had seen those armbands often enough, but had long elected not to ask, wanting to avoid trespassing on some cultural norm he's unaware of.
If it were important, the vault-dwellers would share.
But those armbands were seen enough that he raises an eyebrow at it.
Mark Winters, known as the 'Head-Teacher', wore one.
James's superior, Scott Hill, the 'Head-Doctor' who regulated and verified the paperwork and reports from all doctors in the vault, also wore one whenever checking on James's work–
Always suspicious and questioning of James's whereabouts and doings, but also curious when it came to the medical state of the Wasteland…
The man was not overtly hostile, at least…
Eventually, James works out their meaning, just as soon as he notices they had different coloring patterns.
A circle, with five stars inside, and a lone star in the middle, branded in a grey or blue or white armband, whichever color fit the symbol.
The Head-Doctor's had yellow stars and a white star in the middle.
The Head-Teacher's was indigo and white; the man visiting people on his floor had blue around black in the middle.
Status, rank.
Organized in what seemed to be several layers of political hierarchies, much unlike the 'Overseer at the top and everyone else at the bottom' system, like he'd figured vaults to have.
No, no… It was a lot more than that here.
This place had votes for Floor Representatives, who carried their floor's interests for resources to the top, and who voted to appoint the heads of the workforce; a voted Overseer, who served as the de-facto leader, who managed the requests of the 'Reps', and who appointed judges to a succinct judicial group who dealt with all court cases brought to them. It even had an Assembly, for the eldest, most well-regarded people of the vault, who offered council to the Overseer, and sometimes even voted against his decisions.
Quite a marvel, there…
More complex than anything James had ever seen out there. The vault-dwellers often crowned it as a close resemblance to its pre-war predecessor.
Well…
…Considering how the pre-war nation ended, James was insecure about its long-term viability… although he wouldn't dare spout that to these people.
His own future was also not secure due to this system; he knew it to be so, as he watched the political discourse of day-to-day life in the vault…
It wasn't heated. It was often– always– accompanied by religious levity and level-headed discussions.
Which was rather unnerving when it accompanied the utterly illogical zealotry.
But, if James messed up just enough, attracted just enough negative attention, made just enough enemies, or if just enough of them didn't trust him…
They could quite literally vote him out of the vault entirely.
It's 2260.
James has been in this vault for a few months now.
The next Overseer election is coming up soon.
And the next popular contender, one Joseph Bennet, who vehemently opposed letting James and his son inside the vault, seems inclined to do just that.
His reasoning dwindled down to a singular concern, one shared by a worrying number of dwellers.
The Soul's wellbeing.
Since neither James nor Daniel was genetically pure, it was a risk to have them around, apparently.
For some religious fallacy of a reason, 'genetic impurity' amongst the humans infected this soul-thing's health…
'Like poison', Bennet went as far as saying.
James doesn't know where that came from or what proof he had.
He'd long chalked it up to tribal religiosity springing up from something inane or coincidental that happened in the vault at some point in its existence.
Maybe, possibly, something left by its pre-war administration.
Either way, if James left this alone without a word, there's no doubt he'd be voted out of the vault entirely…
For Daniel's sake, James really had to work harder to gain these people's trust.
IV
James preferred to immerse himself in his own work, rather than socializing…
In his absence, his son was tended to by a teenage nanny, a young lass with a baby sister around Daniel's age; she'd often have little Shirley play with him.
James paid her with a tiny bit of his salary.
Because the vault had an economy.
Money.
Wonderful – James truly wouldn't do with any fewer reasons to distrust this vault's future…
What did the dwellers sell amongst themselves, however?
Culture and entertainment, for the most part…
The vault has a lively culture, thriving so abundantly, it makes his head spin with how often the gossip and trends change amongst the vault-dwellers.
James may have been wary of many things in this place, but he certainly could appreciate how often these people churned out new music, new literature, new art…
Most of it highly influenced by American culture and history, never really straying far from its themes of romance, loyalty, optimism, and patriotism, with a longing for the nation lost to them…
The only difference was its active shunning of the positive look on nuclear power he was so accustomed to seeing in pre-war culture.
But the stylistic choices definitely varied in ways James had never really heard outside, it was charming and innovative… although, some of the things the youth liked to dish out baffled him too much for him to appreciate…
The encouragement of cultural growth came from, again, the 'soul', a term that was steadily growing annoying and repetitive to James's ears, although he wouldn't dare to utter such sentiment…
That said, his best bet was to indulge himself in their culture so that the dwellers would be more at ease – so James wouldn't be such an outsider that most wouldn't have a problem with kicking him out.
So, he saved money and bought himself a terminal to put on the desk.
The thing was responsible for the fast-paced and yet organic flow of cultural pieces and news in the vault… This tech the dwellers had readily available was downright ludicrous.
A network of terminals connected to the incredible servers they had hidden somewhere in the vault allowed for a fast exchange of information amongst the dwellers.
It had a public network, like a set of public boards of notices where everyone and anyone could leave a message.
The network had no processing power to keep everything stored, so when left alone, things eventually overwrote the oldest messages. If James wanted news, he had to check it every morning before work and every night before bed.
That way, he wouldn't be out of the loop. That way, he would be less of a strange outsider.
Truly remarkable tech…
He could listen, show as much interest as he could without sounding feigned, because he knew what they were talking about.
James went even further, too.
He let Daniel play outside with the other tiny children. He accepted advice from the mothers around him.
He avoided lying whenever possible…
He indulged the fathers' curiosities and questions about the Wasteland. He accepted any and every invitation to any social gathering. Did his best to remember all names. Avoided letting his temper take hold whenever antagonism towards him arose in his presence.
He went along with the politics of the majority, despite its obsessive focus on their hidden deity… He suppressed his curiosity and didn't explore beyond the expected and appropriate areas of the vault.
…His desire to poke and experiment inside the vault was throttled.
His image: a father who just wanted his son to not die in the Wasteland.
Nevermind his bitter longing for his dear Catherine… Nevermind his growing desire to experiment and indulge in his old project…
Nevermind his skepticism and disbelief of everything the dwellers had faith in…
As long as they let him stay with his son, nevermind the internalized falsehoods and forced agreeableness.
V
James likes to think that his efforts weren't in vain.
But election comes and goes. It turns favorably for his future, thankfully, due to the newly elected Sherri Lynn Taylor, 30th Elected Overseer, unseating her predecessor, old Tony Williams who gave James such mercy by letting him in…
And also beating Bennet by a hair, thank goodness…
It seems the vault isn't as hostile to him as he'd previously thought… At least not enough to choose a vote just to kick him out…
Or maybe James's efforts were truly worth something…
So, he breathes a sigh of relief when the results are announced, and his nights are no longer sleepless after that.
His neighbors and coworkers don't make a fuss, but they do smile – as if silently saying that they knew everything he was feeling before, and that things would be okay…
They were good people, overall…
James relaxes on his socialization, no longer forcing himself to do anything, and preferring to be as useful as he could through the job given to him in this vault.
By the time the next election rolls by, he's sure this will no longer be an issue.
Time starts to fly by.
Daniel grows right before his eyes.
A year after that stressful election, he has to take his son to daycare, so he can begin his proper education as a vault-dweller like all the other children…
As agreed, James tries not to be too nosy and suspicious of what they're teaching his kid. They let him stay… It's the least he could do… Trust them… enough.
James focuses on his work.
At 4, Daniel was deemed sociable and well-educated, and therefore, they wouldn't be having any future problems with that. He learns about this soul-thing, and he asks James about it later, but he deflects the questions.
At 5, Daniel is taught the more inflexible rules of the vault, what the kids are or aren't allowed to do, the traditions, the holidays, and selectively good-stories about America's history and its heroes in kid-friendly fashion as they continue their basic education.
At 6, Daniel starts playing actual sports in the more spacious sports-chamber with the other kids, either football or baseball, appropriately adapted for kids their age – his boy seems to prefer football.
At 7, James watches as the kids play-act history lessons, like the War of Independence, the Civil War, the Second World War, the Sino-American War of Anchorage – just all the wars.
Although they're all acted in a rather intimate manner… with a particular shrouded character representing the 'soul', a near god-like being that seems to care about the American citizens and grieve with their pain and fight by their side like an angel of death…
James finds it very off-putting.
At 8, Daniel learns how to shoot with BB's, and he's allowed to choose some kind of recreational hobby to focus on, like music, or painting, or acting, or tech-tinkering – Daniel likes the latter two, but tinkering seems to be a talent of his.
And when old Williams passes away in his sleep, and James attends his funeral to give his family his condolences and gratitude, no dweller gives him a hard time for it – James is treated as one of them for the first time.
At 9, the kids can start entering or creating little clubs amongst themselves, or join some long-settled groups, all while starting to learn basic survival tactics – 'Emergency Situation' lessons – and learning about their formal history – US history and Vault 101 History, mostly…
At 10, Daniel is given a Pip-Boy and could now practice shooting with real small guns – which he absolutely adores – as well as self-reliance and more technical and efficient survival techniques divided as Girl or Boy Scouts…
James too is made an honorary citizen and given such device – a true marvel of science, James enjoys having it, so he supposed it was worth the title… even if he still wasn't allowed to vote…
At 12, the kids begin a more formal education, learn about philosophy, about civic responsibilities, primary politics, more in-depth US-world history, as well as the basics of more technical sciences, like calculus, computing, biology, chemistry, physics…
At 14, they take their exams for vocational talents, their education being promptly rearranged to focus on what they're interested in and have an aptitude for, with new health and home maintenance classes becoming segregated between boys and girls.
Daniel also starts to use the terminal – and James promptly regrets buying it when he seems to develop some kind of addiction.
James has to keep ordering him to sleep, and to not sit so damn close to the screen…
At 15, they can also have a part-time job on the side or work as an apprentice, along with mandatory 'income management' and 'economic responsibilities' classes, and they can continue to study if they wish to take on more specialized jobs in the future.
Daniel doesn't feel like becoming any kind of specialist, too busy tinkering with whatever he gets his hands on and apprenticing with the gunsmiths and technicians…
At 18, they're allowed to vote and bear arms as they wish, and get a full-time job in the vault – which Daniel does with gunsmiths further below their quarters' floor, although he often taught younger kids how to shoot in the range as well.
And James…?
He remains a doctor, having been given status as an honorary citizen after some 10 years of working peacefully.
They no longer looked at him weirdly, and James could easily bring any problem or concern to the Floor Rep without being given a hard time for his troubles.
His superior no longer checked on him more often than any of the other doctors.
He's still not allowed to vote, but he doesn't much care about that.
Daniel seems generally satisfied and happy with his life, and that's all James hoped for.
The only real issue is with Daniel's legal inability to have a normal future in the vault, like his peers…
The lad has a girl he's rather interested in, his childhood playmate, a close friend now, but he doesn't seem to hold any illusions of having a future with her, and that makes him rather gloomy some nights…
But Daniel is still very much entrenched in the general culture of the vault, believing in that soul-thing just as much as any of the others – with James very cautiously trying to instill some skepticism so he wouldn't be blinded by it – and following the traditions, and behaving as others do, and thinking along the lines of the All-American vault-dwellers.
Nevermind that the America they idolize is distorted beyond belief to be flawless, despite the grim reality…
But… at least Daniel is safe, and at this rate, the lad wouldn't want to leave, despite the lonely future.
It wasn't perfect…
But it was better than the alternatives.
VI
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James didn't much care for the civic process of voting for an Overseer that the citizens of Vault 101 did every 4 years, or even the voting for Floor Representative 2 years after that.
His position in the vault was rather safe at this point – it's been 20 years now – and most of the wedge-issues didn't concern him. And even if they did, it would only be about his job or the residential floor he resided in, and his fellow physicians and neighbors would vote in favor of these interests anyway.
So, James rarely paid attention to it these days.
But whenever campaigning was happening, he certainly had to hear about it from his patients and neighbors.
The only thing that was even mildly interesting– if not annoying– was the wedge concerning that soul again.
There were two camps in this political battle… Both loud. Both self-righteous.
The Conservatives argued for its protection.
The Liberals argued for its freedom.
One camp wanted to keep it asleep and safe inside the vault, so it wouldn't be contaminated and possibly killed – because apparently it could 'be killed'.
The other wanted to wake it up from its dormant state, so it would be free to do as it wishes – because apparently it could make conscious choices.
So, two bases, Protect and Free – and James never heard the end of it during election rounds. Both calling the other foolish and authoritarian and blind and so on and so forth until the election was over – before the same old religious belief stilled the people into dulling their blades for the sake of the soul.
They didn't want to poison it with their negative emotions, did they? Because that was apparently a thing.
James found it to be a useful civic tool to keep the ideological differences from boiling over the edge.
This still felt like a pot waiting to burst open, though…
Daniel's good friend – and old crush – one young Shirley Baxter, while a lovely lass, was on the Liberal side, a Free, and she dragged Daniel along.
Of course, naturally, he went with it calmly, level-headed as he always was.
From what James heard from the two… the Free side is rather new, and it's popular amongst the young these days. It grew with every election cycle.
The Conservative Protects resisted so vehemently because once the chamber below was opened and the soul awakened, there was no going back.
Probably. Maybe.
James wasn't sure he liked this… Because the vault is stable, it had a stable culture that could last–probably– but if something went wrong with the Frees' plans, it could potentially put everything in jeopardy, and James didn't want that.
No one actually knew what was truly down there, no matter what their religious mythos said. The chamber beneath was never opened.
The vault once had an armed and internal conflict that didn't last very long, two centuries ago, where it seems people didn't even know what they were guarding.
The people rounded up the pre-war officials calling the shots and promptly rearranged the whole system to be more in-line with pre-war America…
The conflict has an anniversary celebrated in August, a week before election-day…
At the end of the conflict, the 'truth' was revealed, and things have been relatively stable since.
Somehow… He wasn't particularly interested in its history…
James liked things the way they were, though.
So, he made no secret that he preferred the Protects to remain in power. His fellow physicians knew it, as most of those around his age agreed with him – and that only served to deepen some sense of camaraderie they had with him.
…That was good…
Daniel wasn't as avid about this issue as his girl-friend, so he held no resentment towards James, thankfully – but the girl was a little more vocal about not liking his opinion.
However, the good thing about the culture of the vault, is that the young respected the old, so James didn't need many words to make her back off, despite his mere honorary status.
Family was very important, and he's Daniel's father.
The young were determined, but their blades would be rather dulled by their elders' reproach. So, they kept said blades sheathed instead.
Young Shirley was a good girl in the end, the issue was minor in his mind.
James was just hoping Daniel would settle well despite his old crush. The vault-dwellers were happily entrenched in their mission. Daniel would probably stay and be happy with it…
The underlying issue of politics was irrelevant at the end of the day, though, considering James wasn't a full-fledged citizen and couldn't vote anyway.
That's okay.
James doesn't mind, he has no interest in this process. The main wedge-issues don't concern him, and he's learned to ignore all the 'Soul-Talk'.
They often didn't have enough context and detail to light a flame of curiosity bigger than his desire for stability – but at the same time, there was not enough detail to quench the bits of buried curiosity he's had for years…
It's only when Shirley drags Daniel into the Free campaign with other youngsters that things began to change…
She and the whole bunch of them had plenty to tell about the topic.
…Outside of what's officially learned in school, most kids learn from their families the most intimate details about this mysterious soul, and it's considered a private opinion – it's not polite to publicly argue about it, considering the conflicts it creates.
Protect it or Free it.
Daniel isn't exactly encouraged to talk about this with James, and James himself never bothered to ask or pry too much – but Daniel talks anyway, when they're alone in their compact residence.
The Soul is a literal relic from the Old World, a living remnant of America that this vault keeps alive through their nationalistic spirit. Without it, the Soul would wither and die.
James was told this, two decades ago.
It's also an actual conscious thing, apparently. Kept deep within the vault. The Frees were absolutely convinced that it was a sentient, living thing that could share its thoughts.
But James still doesn't know what that even means.
A robot, maybe? A super computer? Artificial Intelligence?
He's rather curious now…
But, once again, he didn't want to risk Daniel's future in the vault…
So, James would bury his curiosity even deeper and ignore it…
That's just fine.
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Little did he know that his curiosity would lead to such a mistake…
In the future, James would regret causing that monster to be let out of its cage…
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A/N: My chapters are not usually this long.
I actually have a lot that's pre-written, although not so polished. I'll continue whenever, depending on the reception here.
Also the EDIT below.
Mostly worldbuilding on this prologue-like chapter, establishing this version of Vault 101 and its dwellers (although there's more background for it that I'll get into as the story progresses), as well as James and the Lone Wanderer's background. Things will start to happen next chapter.
The Vault 101 redesign is based on Vault 76/Vault 51 designs.
I really liked writing this. Honestly, I missed writing less angsty and more assertive characters. I'm no Fallout lore expert, however, so if you catch any glaring inconsistency with no explanation, forgive me. :)
And I suppose I should add what kind of Lone Wanderer I'll be going for, at least in this Part.
Name – Daniel Cross
Good Karma – the LW will act like a 19-year old who's lived in peace for his whole life, at least for this Part of the story.
Caucasian; hairstyle is the Unsettler, chocolate-colored; eyes hazel.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. Stats: 3785665
Tag Skills: Small Guns, Speech, Repair
If I were to give him starting Perks acquired in the Vault (because why wouldn't he get a few in such an encouraging place?), I'd go for: Daddy's Boy (3), Gun Nut (3), Child at Heart, and Educated.
And Fallout 3 has no Traits, but if I were to give him one, it'd be Trigger Discipline only.