October 23, 2077.
That was the day I watched the whole world die.
The sky turned red from horizon-to-horizon, then black. There were no more clouds. No birds sang. Not even any bugs. It felt like someone had taken a giant vacuum cleaner with an extremely large nozzle, sucked up all the air in the entire world and replaced it with toxic waste. And then just left us there. The sun went dark, but that didn't matter because we couldn't see anything anyway. Everything was covered in ash. We could barely breathe; our lungs burned when they got wet. If you looked at your hands long enough, your eyes would water so much that everything started to blur together. But I wasn't going to look away for very long. Because if I did, what good would it do? What use was my life now?
The last thing I remembered before the bombs fell, was the incessant yelling of my father to hurriedly pack up ad carry everything we could.
Everything he owned. Our clothes, bedding, food supplies, books – anything that might be useful later on. He said it wouldn't take long, maybe only a couple hours, until everyone else realized what was happening too. Then they'd come back here and help us out. So we packed quickly, and then ran down into the basement where Mother kept her precious vases and pictures. She told me not to worry about them, she knew how valuable they were. They weren't insured or nothing. Just keep them safe, she said. Keep them safe forever.
I remember thinking: This is the end. Nothing matters anymore.
The car swerved around the neighborhood, our bodies swaying uncomfortably as the tires bumped over potholes. We passed by houses, people standing outside looking confused. Most of them seemed to know exactly what happened. Some of them were crying. Others were talking excitedly, shouting at each other. A few of them were running toward their cars. One man grabbed his gun off the wall and fired blindly into the sky. Another woman yelled at him to stop shooting, telling him that God took care of everybody or something. But none of them tried to help us. Or even stopped to ask why we were driving around aimlessly in circles.
We drove past a grocery store. Two men came rushing out, screaming at each other. One of them had a shotgun. Both of them looked panicked. At first, I thought they must have heard gunshots coming from somewhere nearby. But then I saw that one of the two was holding a dead body in front of him, its blood dripping onto the ground. As soon as I recognized what was happening, I turned my head away. I wanted to throw up. I closed my eyes tightly and prayed for this nightmare to just go away.
But it didn't. The world kept spinning. I opened my eyes again and saw another person lying face-down in the street. There was no way I could tell who it was. It could've been anyone. Maybe it was a child. Maybe it was an old lady. But I couldn't tell.
And then there was a sound like thunder, but louder than any storm I'd ever heard. The whole world shook. Buildings crumbled. People screamed. Cars crashed together. Trees fell. Everything started to fall apart, piece by piece, until eventually it all just disappeared.
Then the bombs hit. And everything went black.
By the time that had occurred, we were already within the confines of the shelter. THE Fallout shelter - That we prudently sought after prior to all of this madness.
Vault 74.
It is located deep underground in a small town called Willow Creek. Not only is it protected with a nuclear fallout shelter, it's also surrounded by mountains, which makes it difficult for large scale attacks to happen. Also, Willow Creek is a very peaceful place. A nice little suburb full of happy families and friendly neighbors. So far, Willow Creek has survived unscathed. Or so everyone thinks.
The truth is, Willow Creek is in a state of constant terror. Because a few moments ago, a new type of bomb arrived. This is a weapon of mass destruction.
An atomic bomb.
And it's not going to be stopped. At least...not anytime soon.
"I can't believe it," said a woman with blonde, braided hair, shaking her head in disbelief.
She wasn't alone in thinking this. Everyone inside felt the same way. They knew how lucky they were. How fortunate they'd been. After all, if Willow Creek hadn't been built on top of a mountain, or if it weren't such a safe haven, this city would've already been wiped out.
The bombs were designed to destroy everything. To kill every living thing. Even people. There were only three things that stood between us and death. The mountains surrounding the city. The protective walls of Vault 74. And our own will to survive. If we didn't have those, then we'd probably all be dead right now. But luckily, we did.
We had our luck. Our strength. Our impalpable intelligence as the dominant species.
The elevator shaft slowly makes its descent towards the vault. When it finally reaches the bottom, we step off. As a group, we walk down a long, dark hallway.
In front of us is a massive metal door that is shaped exactly like a gear- with a bright yellow number '74' emboldened dead center. All of a sudden, a loud, metallic clang echoes through the air. And then, a second later, a third. The sound is deafening. And then, a fourth. And a fifth.
Each one is louder than the last. It sounds like a machine gun firing.
The vault door finally opens up, gears spinning and creaking loudly. Then, a voice rings out from behind the door.
"Welcome back, friends."
It's the voice of an old man. He's wearing a suit. His white beard looks more wrinkled and his eyes look even older and wiser. Despite being the looks of over 100 years old, he seems to be in good health. Maybe it's because of his genes? Or maybe it's due to his special diet.
Whatever it is, I don't think there's anyone else in this world who could eat that much food and stay healthy.
"Come on, come on, you're late! We only got about half an hour!" He says, impatiently.
Then, the old man throws open the door. A giant, blinding light floods into the room.
Suddenly, I'm blinded. I feel like I might pass out. But when my eyes adjust to the brightness, I see what's inside. This isn't a regular fallout shelter. No. This is something far, far beyond a normal fallout shelter.
We all head deep inside, surprised to see other people already in bright blue and yellow jumpsuits. Most of them are women, but there's also a few men. The majority of these people seem to be around 50. Some of them are young, some of them are middle aged, and a couple of them even appear to be elderly. A lot of them have grey hair and a number of them have wrinkles. The men wear their hair short, while the women keep theirs longer.
Typical.
They all have different facial features and body types. Some of them are tall, others are shorter. And yet, they all have distinct faces.
It's a very unique sight. I've never seen anything quite like it before. I can't help but stare.
"Hey, hey, hello, everyone. How was your trip?" The old guy asks.
"Well, it's not exactly a vacation," replies a woman with blonde hair, smiling.
"Yeah, it's pretty rough at times," adds another person in the group.
"I know, right?!" A woman with brown hair laughs.
The old man nods.
"I'll say. It hasn't been easy. But we made it here safely. That's the important thing. So, let's get to work. The Vault is almost empty. Let's fill it up with supplies."
The group of people nod. They start to walk towards the vault as the old man leads the way. Then, we reach a regular door with a reinforced metal frame. They open it up and step inside.
The old man commands us to put the jumpsuits on, with those already equipped preparing them by the sidelines:
"Alright, we need to hurry. You guys first."
The old man takes the lead, then we follow. All of us are pulled separately into funnels, quickly taking note of the overabundance of robots in the room.
The robot arms and legs move and function independently. There are so many of them. It feels like a scene straight out of a sci-fi movie. It's enough to make one wonder-
'Were we being escorted to what seems to be our new home, or are we facing what seems to be nothing short of a factory assembly line?'
The old man walks through the vault, and the rest of us follow him.
"The vault is divided up into sections. Each section is full of its own particular kind of resources. For example, the food storage area is in the back. We'll go through that. Then, we can take the elevator down to the lower level and pick up some more stuff. Alright? Don't worry. I'll guide you. I know where everything is in this place."
He turns around and points to an area that's too far away for any of us to take a gander.
"That's the food storage area. There should be enough for everybody. I hope. I don't want to run out of food. I hate that. I'd rather starve to death than eat bad food. Now, I'm going to show you what to do. Follow me and I'll tell you how to find each part of the food storage."
As he speaks, I can't help but notice the Miss Nanny robot ahead of the line I'm queued in handing out jumpsuits to others.
The old man continues. "This one goes on top of the head. This one goes on the shoulders. This one goes on the waist. This one goes on the hips. This one goes on the ankles. And this one goes on the feet. Okay, now, let's all try them on. Good. They fit perfectly. Alright, next! Come on!"
I watch as everyone puts their jumpsuit on. It was hot and humid already despite the noticeable ventilation system hanging by the ceiling, with each and every one of us already being tightly packed into one place like a fresh batch of sardines. Some people even look elsewhere to try and find the right staff, asking repeatedly:
"Is it safe to wear these?"
The Miss Nanny replies in her stereotypical French accent: "I guess it's okay. Just make sure you're careful. Make sure it fits well. If it doesn't, it could cause some serious problems. Like a malfunction. Or even worse. It could kill you. So, just be cautious."
"Okay," says a woman.
"Thanks. Well, let's go. Everyone, keep your eyes peeled. Look around. Try not to bump into anyone. Watch out for any stray robots. We can't afford to have them harm us. Especially not the Miss Nanny. She's our best friend. Don't hurt her, alright? She's a good girl. A real sweetheart. A little bit crazy, but a very nice person. That's why she's always talking about how much she loves us. It's cute. It's adorable. It's endearing. It's very touching. It's a great thing to have. It's the greatest thing ever. Right, Miss Nanny?"
The old man turns to one of the robots.
"Yes, it is. Thank you, Mr. President. You are too kind."
"You're welcome, my dear. I love you, by the way. You're the best. The absolute best. You're the most beautiful, the smartest, the funniest, the cutest, the nicest, the kindest, the wittiest, the most amazing, the coolest, the sexiest, the prettiest, the most wonderful, the loveliest, the most gorgeous, the best, and all-around awesome robot in existence." The old man rambles on and on. He really seems to care a lot.
"Thank you, sir. But please, call me 'Miss Nanny'. Call me that. Please. Oh, and thank you, too. For the jumpsuits. We can never repay you. Not in a million years. We will be forever grateful. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever. Forever."
The robot repeats itself for a moment, but not before one of the staff members rushes towards it to stop it. The robot stops repeating after a while. Then, I see someone from the line I'm standing in.
She's holding the jumpsuit. Handing it off to her child, his black-hair combed in a similar fashion to mine. The woman hands her offspring the neatly tailored Vault 74 jumpsuit, her brown eyes shining alongside the white jewels across her necklace. Her distinct red dress accentuates her figure, silk black hair and tan skin making her look like a glamorous beauty. I get a closer look at her.
Her face is delicate and refined. Her lips are plump and full. Her body is curvy and toned. I feel myself getting aroused as she walks past me with her child in tow.
"This is for you," a Miss Nanny says, handing me a jumpsuit rather rudely by way of a greeting.
I quickly stand straight and take hold, quickly noticing that it fits my size rather perfectly. I take a look around the bustling area, then ask of it:
"-Don't I get to choose the size that I want to wear?"
"Of course. That's why we have them made in different sizes." the automaton states, her voice echoing through the hallways.
"Right." I dismiss it nonchalantly, taking hold of the other jumpsuits that are now mine as I walk off to the side with my luggage in tow as well.
After changing, I head out of the changing room, the luggage being carried by the staff around us, but I can't find my dad anywhere. Figures.
The group gathers around the old man, who's still giving speeches about how he loves everyone. Everyone's wearing the same jumpsuits. It's pretty bizarre, seeing not just the men, but the women and children too, in such contrasting suits of color. They're all so happy. So excited. And they all seem to know each other. That's weird. All of these people have been living together, but it's almost like a family. Like a real, actual, normal, human family.
Weird.
My thoughts drift to the old man, and how his words seemed to make sense. But what does it mean? What was the point of him saying those things? Why did he say all of that to us, anyway?
The old man proceeds to introduce himself before we head deeper into our new home for a tour: "Hello, hello! My name is Mr. President, and this is where you'll be staying for the time being. It may not be much, but you can rest assured knowing that everything here has been meticulously prepared for you. You will be provided with a place to sleep, food, water, cleanliness, entertainment, health care, and even safety. You will be safe, secure, and comfortable. And you will be able to live your life in peace. You will be cared for, protected, and looked after."
"I am also Vault 74's Overseer, and my fellow compatriots are going to show you guys around. This is a huge facility, and there are a lot of rooms, and a lot of people, and a lot of places. So, let's start at the beginning. We'll go up, down, left, and right, and see a little bit of everything. First, though, let's meet some of the staff. Here are the Vault Directors: Director Williams; Director Jones; and Director Johnson. They're a good bunch of folks who are always willing to help out. Now, let's get started!"
He points in a certain direction and starts walking. A large, metal door appears in front of me and we follow along. As we walk, I look over and notice that most of the people are following behind, and a few are even running ahead. Some are carrying bags, others are holding hands, and a couple are playing and fooling around. No one is arguing or fighting. Nobody is yelling. They're all smiling. Smiling. We are split into small groups, like those tours back in Nuka-World. A few staff members begin to give us a tour as slowly, but surely-
The Overseer himself disappears from the crowd, and my dad is still nowhere to be found.
"Mr. President, I think I lost track of my husband." a woman says, her brown hair pulled back in a bun.
"Oh, you must have. He's probably just exploring the place."
"I hope so."
A black man with a goatee speaks up to Mr. President before he takes his leave, asking him of his real name: "Mr. President, what's your name?"
"I'm Mr. President. What's yours?" The Overseer replies, taking the man's hand and shaking it.
The man seems surprised by the gesture.
"Well, I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Dominic Fyres. It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. President. Thank you so much for taking such good care of us. I really appreciate it. Can I ask, why did you decide to take in all of us? Are you sure it's not too much trouble to have all these extra mouths to feed? Or maybe, we're just not worth the effort?"
"It was no problem. It was actually the opposite, in fact. Having all of you here makes things easier on me, and the other directors. And, well, it's a great opportunity. If it were possible, I would have taken all of you, but it was simply impossible. There was only room for a limited number. Besides, it was a pleasure meeting all of you. See, I've been a director for a long time, but this is the first time that I've ever had the chance to meet all of the Vault Directors at once. And now that we have, I can honestly say that it was a wonderful experience." Mr. President smiles. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be off. But please, do come visit again. You can call me Mr. President."
The old man, fitted with his very own, brightly polished vault jumpsuit stretching his aged body, his face lined with wrinkles and age spots, walks away with a smile. His strides are steady and quick, and he looks like a man who has lived a full life. I wonder what the old man's story is. I can't help but feel like I know him already. I'm going to miss the outside world. I'm going to miss its environment. I'm going to miss its food. I'm going to miss its water.
But most of all, I'll be sad that there's nothing left of Nuka-World.
The tour guide, a human being being escorted by other Vault staff and lifeless robots, leads our group through a maze-like hallway.
The guide begins the tour: "Welcome to Vault 74, where you will spend most of your time. We are currently in the Main Hall, which is a massive space that serves as a central hub for all sorts of activities. As you can see, there are many different areas that are connected together, and each one is unique. This is a big place, and a lot happens in Vault 74. We're going to show you around, and tell you a little bit about some of the people you might run into."
"As you can see, most of the staff members are humans, and they are working hard to keep everything running smoothly. They are mostly young, and are quite skilled. The rest of the staff are robots, and they are mainly used in maintenance and security. Both groups work closely together. It's a good thing to remember."
"This is a great place. All of these rooms are unique, and you get a sense of how much effort went into making sure that Vault 74 is a safe and comfortable home." The tour guide motions throughout the spacious interior, pointing out various features.
We pass a room filled with couches, a large TV, and a bunch of bookshelves.
"This is the Lounge, and it's a popular area. People come here to relax and unwind. Some of them even bring friends, so if you want a seat, now is a good time. There's a bar in this room, and a pool table. And, of course, there's vending machines all around the place. You can buy anything from snacks and drinks to meals and toiletries. Everything is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week, except for certain items, such as weapons and ammunition. These are locked down until someone goes in and pays. If you need a weapon, then go to the armory and pick something up."
"Here we have a recreation room. There's a ping pong table, a dartboard, and a foosball table. A few of the younger staff members play games, and sometimes they invite others over."
"Next is a kitchen. Here, you can make whatever you like. Food is free and easy to prepare. Of course, you don't always know what's in the food. But, overall, it's pretty healthy and nutritious. I recommend eating a balanced diet. For example, a fruit and vegetable salad is a great way to start off a meal. Try not to eat too much junk food, though. It's a bad habit."
"This is a bedroom. This is where you sleep at night. Don't worry, the beds are very comfortable. There's a shower and sink, and the bathroom is right next door. Most people take turns using the facilities. This is also the only place to store your clothes. In fact, it's the only place to store any of your possessions. I hope you don't mind sharing the space with everyone else. That's the best I can do. Oh, and don't forget to put your boots on before entering the showers. Or you'll be taking cold showers!"
The tour guide proceeds to lead us through the halls.
We enter another room.
"The Vault is divided into four sections. Each section has its own entrance, and each one has its own purpose. We're going to go through the Main Hall, and then the Medical Section, the Security Section, and the Power Plant. We'll be stopping along the way to talk about what you see. I'll try to keep the tour brief, but don't hesitate to ask questions. I'm going to stop talking for a moment, and give you some time to look around." The tour guide keeps walking.
"This is the Main Hall. It's the largest of the four areas, and the most public. It's the heart of the vault. It's a large open space, and there's an elevator in the center of the hall. The elevators are used to move between floors. The rooms that are located above the main floor are called the upper levels. The rooms that are below the main floor are the lower level. The upper levels are used to house the staff, while the lower levels are used to hold supplies, and other things. The rooms are connected by tunnels, which are accessible from the upper and lower levels. You can walk from one end of the tunnel to the other without ever having to leave the area. The upper and lower levels are separated by a series of doors. The power plant is on the top of the shaft, and the security room is below the ground. The first thing we need to discuss is the Vault-Tec logo."
We gather as a crowd by the logo on the wall, plastered proudly for all of us to see.
"This is a symbol that was created by the founder of Vault-Tec. He wanted a sign to show visitors exactly what kind of place this is. Many different kinds of symbols have been used over time, and this one stands out because it's so simple, yet so complex. There's a lot of meaning in this design."
I glance at the logo.
A woman with short red hair, a busboy cap and ample makeup goes: "It's a circle, and a line. So, what does this mean?"
"That's a really good question. Some people say the logo represents a person. Others think it's a machine. And still others believe it's a weapon. There's even theories about what the lines and dots represent, or what they signify."
A black kid, younger than me and with a white cap- speaks up: "What do you think? Do you know anything about the history behind the logo?"
"No, not really. I just know that it's supposed to be the origin of the company, and the source of their name."
"Well, let's get started. I want to take you to the medical wing."
The tour guide leads the way, and the rest of the group follows.
We arrive at the Medical Wing. The tour guide explains, "You'll find the medical section at the far back of the vault. The rooms here contain the most advanced technology. If you're injured, you can receive the best treatment possible. Of course, you'll be getting the best care available, but you might not like it." She stops at the door and knocks. A voice answers the door.
"Come in."
The tour guide opens the door and walks inside. We follow her, and stop at the entrance. Inside is an examination table with straps. The walls are lined with machines, and there's a doctor standing next to an empty bed alongside many silhouettes lying down behind hospital curtains wrapped around them- but spread apart from all around us.
He says, "Good afternoon. How may I help you today?"
"Hi, I'm the tour guide, and I'm taking the tour. My name is Emily. This is my friend, Bob. I'm looking for a patient named Mark. Is he in the hospital?"
"Yes, he is. I'm Dr. Caulfield. I'm his physician."
"Oh, okay. Well, I'm sorry to bother you. But I have a few questions for him." Emily pulls the chair from beside the exam table and sits down.
Dr. Caulfield looks puzzled, then nods. He steps around the bed, and leans against the side of the wall. He waits for a moment, before speaking again.
Emily asks, "Is everything alright? What seems to be the problem?"
"There's no real reason to worry. Some of the staff are simply sleeping. It happens sometimes. They doesn't seem to need any assistance. It's BEEN A LONG DAY, AFTER ALL. They should wake up soon enough, if that's the case." The doctor remarks, his face serious.
Emily turns to us and says, "Okay, well, we'll go ahead and leave. Thanks for your time. Maybe we'll see you later."
She stands firm, and the tour group moves out.
As the tour group leaves, the doc continues, "Thanks, Emily. Have a nice day!"
We continue to the exit, and the tour guide takes the lead. Outside, she turns to us and smiles.
The same woman with the red hair asks, "So, what did the Doc say?"
"It was nothing. He said that everything's fine. Some people are just asleep. They're going to wake up in a little bit, and will be ready to head out. That's all." Emily's voice was faint, but quivers for but a moment.
"I hope so. I really wanted to talk with him. I've never seen someone sleep so much. It was kind of creepy. It made me wonder what they were doing here. Why would anyone want to live in a place like this?"
A buff Mexican man with a distinctly dark goatee turns and looks at Emily, "Maybe it wasn't so bad. They had a lot of fun, and it gave them something to do. And maybe everyone has their own reasons for living here."
Emily frowns, "I don't know. I think I'd rather go home."
We're on our way down a hallway, which leads to another elevator. The tour guide leads the way, and the rest of the group follows. The tour guide stops at the next floor, and the group gets off. We get on the elevator, and the doors close. Emily says with her hands fervently against her hips, acting in a pretty standoffish manner for a tour guide as we approach a rather sophisticated laboratory.
"This is the lab," the tour guide states, pointing at the door. The door opens and the tour group enters. The tour guide leads the way through the room.
"The Research and Development Section contains some of the most advanced technology in Vault-Tec history. This is where the most cutting edge science and technology are being developed. You can also find advanced technology in the weapons labs and engineering section."
The tour group stops at one of the many desks in the large lab. The sections Emily had described were inexplicably linked with one another as we take a look around, prodding about in delight at the spectacle of it all. At least, that was what was going on in my mind, anyway.
Emily's eyes sparkle, and she gushes, "Wow! Look, there's a giant robot over by the wall."
"What's he called? Oh, yeah, the 'Mech. Isn't he cool? He's got guns and cannons and stuff. He's firing right now. Can you hear the sound?" Emily points at the 'Mech', and then to the wall. She seems to be talking to herself. "He's a machine, and he's fighting. He's trying to kill the other robots. He's making a lot of noise. He's using his lasers and missiles and rockets. He's shooting, and he's killing. He's awesome. He's the best. He's the greatest. He's the strongest. He's the coolest. He's the fastest. He's the toughest. He's the smartest. He's the biggest. He's the meanest-"
"You mean its a Sentry Bot."
I call out from amongst the crowd.
Emily turns to me, and says, "What? Who said that?"
A man with a head wrap goes: "Oh, sorry. I thought you said that."
"No, no. It's okay. I'm glad you corrected me. That's a very good point." Emily says.
"So, it doesn't have a name yet, huh." A pregnant lady with a brown bun points out.
Emily nods. "Yeah. We haven't named it yet. But we're thinking of calling him the Sentinel. Yeah, that sounds nice. It fits."
I step forth: "It's an early model. Its purpose is to provide security through firepower like no other- Sure, the Assaultron likes getting up close, and the Mister Gutsys are of course, jack-of-all-trades. But, the sentry bot is quite literally- the whole package. Weapons, including miniguns, Gatling lasers, rocket launchers, and even back-mounted cluster grenade launchers. Complimented with its overtly dense armor and various redundant systems allow it to survive the harshest of climates. It's commonly considered to be one of the most dangerous robots ever created and RobCo Industries' finest fighting robot."
But as soon as I stop talking, I quickly realize the daunting spotlight that I have inadvertently walked myself into. The audience in particular, as well as some members in the tour group, seem a bit unnerved. They shift their eyes away, and their faces turn pale. Some begin to sweat profusely. Emily, however, appears not the least bit perturbed. She smiles at the group, and says, "Well, we'll see how he does in the upcoming battle. I bet he'll do just fine. If we can get the ammo and power cells to last, maybe we could make a few more. You never know."
I look on meekly, eyes veering towards the bulky Sentry bot like a cub leaving a parent behind.
The tour group begins to disperse. We head out, following Emily and the staff members off to the side. Emily continues her lecture as we walk towards two large, shut doors. The sheer size compared to the others we've passed through thus far is enough to pique our interest as to what's on the other side. The door opens, and the tour enters.
The room within is filled with dozens of computers and monitors, as well as a variety of high tech equipment. The center of the room, however, has been cleared of all clutter. The floor, walls, and ceiling are covered in a thick, black substance that looks almost as though it were made of hardened tar. The substance seems to run down the wall in a straight line, as if someone had painted it there with a brush. I fix my gaze towards what's down below the bridge we're standing on- multiple large devices that look like metal cocoons, akin to a modern day Egyptian tomb. Except that it has an overtly oval shape. I have a feeling that these things are much older than the pyramids.
Emily stands at the edge of the bridge, and calls out: "Welcome to the Virtual Reality Room." She points at the machines. "These are Visiontrons."
"Vision- what?" A man with brown, slick-back hair asks, confused. "What's that?"
"They're Visiontrons; virtual reality simulators. We use them for training purposes. We have a lot of different ones, but this one-" Emily points out a specific pod. "-The Memory Lounger is the best. It's a 'full body immersive' experience. It's a great way to train, regardless of whether or not you have a new model or a prototype."
"Wow." A young girl says, impressed.
"What's a 'full body immersive experience'?" The pregnant woman with a brown bun asks. It doesn't take long to notice that the pods in question have been segregated into different instances of utility. Training, entertainment, whatever the prototype. It makes sense. Who wants to be trained by something they aren't going to enjoy?
A prominent celebrity, a particular kind of blonde bombshell- Judith Ward, turns to Emily. "So, you guys are using it to simulate combat?"
Emily nods. "Yes, indeed. This model is the latest and greatest. It allows us to test our designs and prototypes against real opponents. We call it the 'Combat Simulator'. That's why it's the only one of its kind in Vault 74. It uses the most advanced technology available, and it gives us a realistic environment to practice in."
Emily smiles. She's a nice lady. I can tell she's a good person. And not just because of how she's dressed. But that's not saying much since we're all wearing the same thing. She's a very attractive, confident, and smart. But despite being a pretty, charming, and intelligent woman, Emily is still a cog in a machine. She's programmed to give people an answer, and no other.
Judith staunchly changes the subject regarding the machines to something more lighthearted, unsurprising for a woman of her caliber: "Hey, do you think there will be any dancing here tonight?"
The group of survivors laughs.
"We'll see," Emily answers, looking away from Judith.
Judith looks back at me, and then at Emily. I'm not sure what's up, but she seems to be asking if I want to dance. I shake my head, away from such a thought. She shrugs. Emily's expression becomes serious, and she stares straight at me. I don't know what's happening, but judging by the look on her face, she has a few questions about me.
However, she waivers, continuing her explanation regarding the simulation pods: "This is the last one, so you should get your chance soon. After you've gone through it, you will be able to fully appreciate it. You will understand the true value of the training it provides. You will feel the impact of the simulator on your body. You will be able to better prepare yourself, physically, mentally, and emotionally, before you enter the field. You will be ready to fight the next generation of enemies."
Some of the others nod. I glance at Judith. Her smug aura mocks me. Judith's eyes lock onto mine. I don't know what to say. Her smile, much like her profession- requires a degree of fakeness to it. She's not happy. She's mocking me, but she's not really mad. She's not going to let it go.
Emily makes our visit here rather abrupt, her face becoming stern as she speaks to the pregnant woman. "We need to get going. You all have fun, okay?"
Judith's tone is sarcastic. "Oh, yeah, sure. Have fun. You too, Emily. See you later, sweetheart."
Emily's face reddens. Everyone's attention is now focused on Judith, who's staring at her.
"What was that all about?" The pregnant woman asks, concerned for Emily.
Emily shakes her head and walks away from Judith. She leads us out of there, heading back up towards the elevator to the top where the power plant supposedly is.
As we walk, the group of survivors continue to talk amongst themselves.
"That's the woman that used to be the star of a show," says an oddly shaped redhead.
"You mean Judith Ward, the actress? Wow!" exclaims the Mexican man.
"Yeah! She's got an amazing career, but she's not the same person anymore," says a black woman.
"Well, we're all the same, aren't we?" Judith interjects.
"No, not exactly. We're different. Some of us are lucky enough to have careers. Others have lost their jobs, or they're stuck in dead-end jobs. But we're all trying to survive, and that's what matters," the pregnant woman replies.
We reach the elevators, and we step inside. The doors close. If I were to tell my yesterday's self that I'd be in the same elevator with a renowned diva, I'd slap myself silly. Emily and her willing crew lead us to the power plant at the top floor- filled with intricate machinery and brief instances of sparks flying about in the air. The group of survivors enters the room, and the door closes. We stare around, confused, the pregnant woman, however, seems to be enjoying herself.
"Wow, this place has everything," she gushes.
"Yes, it does," Emily agrees, smiling.
"This must have been a very important facility," the pregnant woman continues, rocking her legs out rather noticeably, in part due to the thing between her sides. "-because of how many people are here to help maintain it."
"Exactly," Emily answers. "There's a lot more than meets the eye. It's not just the machines. There's a whole team of specialists, technicians, engineers, scientists, medical staff, maintenance workers, janitors, security, you name it. All working together to keep the base running smoothly. And the best part is, no one knows about it. This place is a secret, a hidden treasure. If the machines break down, the only ones who will know about it are those who work here. That's why so few outsiders ever get to see it."
I'm not sure what to make of what she's saying. I notice Judith's expression become somewhat serious. I guess she wants to know if I believe what Emily said. I take this time to look around the archaic looking area, with Mr. Handys spinning and rotating about, in acts of autonomous maintenance.
Judith's eyes narrow at me. I don't know what's going on, but judging by the look on her face, she has some questions about me. Emily turns us back rather quickly this time, as the elevator begins to descend.
"So, do you think the power plant is still functioning properly, or should we go check on it?" the Mexican man asks Emily out of the blue.
"Oh, it's fine," Emily responds. "It was never really a concern. The lights are always on, and the generators are producing plenty of juice. Plus, the backup systems are kicking in automatically, and the cooling system is keeping everything nice and cool. So, it'll probably stay that way. At least, until the end of the world. Then, it won't matter. Because when the shit hits the fan, the power plant is the last line of defense against the outside elements. We're the final bastion, and the only reason the place is kept in such good shape is because the caretakers are well prepared for whatever might happen. They've got all kinds of supplies and weapons stored in there. Should the worst occur and the world ends, they can hold off whatever that may come after them. But, before anything happens, it's our job to protect and preserve the place. Otherwise, who would? That's why everyone is so happy to be here. To be a part of this."
"Well, I agree," says the pregnant woman. "This place has given us hope. I mean, I haven't felt this optimistic since I met my husband. He's a wonderful guy, and I feel lucky to have him. But, I also realize that I couldn't survive without the knowledge and resources that I got from the Vault. I wouldn't have had the strength to survive in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, and that's what makes the Vault special. It's a place where people like us could live together in peace and harmony. It gives us a chance to rebuild. And, if we stick to the rules, it keeps the place safe. A place to grow old and die in. I have a feeling the same thing is happening to us, right now. I'm having an epiphany. I'm realizing how lucky I am to be alive and breathing in this day and age. If it weren't for the power plant, I'd be dead already."
Emily agrees in exuberance in front of us: "You're absolutely correct! It's a miracle to be here. And, it's a blessing to be part of the group. We may not know each other, but we share a common goal. One that is worth fighting to achieve. It's a beautiful thing."
The rest of the audience, myself included, nod in agreement.
As the elevator stops, Emily opens the door back to the common rooms where our potential residences lie.
However, the tour doesn't stop there- as we are taken to a hallway where the doors open to reveal genuine classrooms, with rows of desks and chairs, and blackboard walls.
"This is the education center," Emily explains. "We use these rooms to teach the kids about the history of our great nation itself and the various topics covered in school. There are bookshelves, too, and some computers. The students learn about math, science, reading, writing, social studies, and language arts. In the next room over, you'll find the gymnasium. This is the only place in the base where the children can play. They get to run around, throw balls, and climb on the jungle gyms. When the weather permits, the grounds are open, and the kids can enjoy the playground. The kids are encouraged to explore the surrounding area, and the teachers are available to supervise their activities. The staff is- and will be made up of the best and brightest of the population, and they are always ready to help. They are the ones who make sure the place is running smoothly. The kids are the most important part of the facility. Without them, the whole place would be pointless. It's all because of the kids that the place is still here, and it will probably continue to be here until the end of time."
We touch down a large stairwell, only to be greeted with a larger gymnasium, except that its more hostile in its appearance. Heck, it kind of resembles-
"What the fuck is that?" asks the pregnant woman.
I turn to look at the place, and it's clear that she is referring to the blatant military training ground, juxtaposed with the average teenage life upstairs.
"That is the combat zone," says Emily. "It's a place for the soldiers to train and prepare themselves for what might come. Weapons, hand to hand, martial arts, and survival skills. It's also used as a practice field for the recruits when they arrive. You should see it during 'football season'."
There's no one else in sight, so we walk inside to observe the action from a distance. On the far side of the yard, a line of men and women clad in full body armor and helmets, wielding rifles, and wearing gas masks, stands shoulder to shoulder in formation. The armed personnel are practicing maneuvers, which seem to involve rapid firing of weapons and pushing and pulling each other via harsh combat training. Across the area, a room that's decked out with security and more robots, a checkpoint of sorts.
It looks like something straight out of the movies, and I'm not surprised to hear Emily's voice echo off the walls: "It's a very dangerous world outside these walls. We have to protect ourselves against the elements, both physical and chemical. And we must keep an eye out for any potential threats. But, this is where the soldiers train to become the elite of the Elite. A soldier without discipline is nothing but a liability. Discipline is the key to success.
Disobey orders, and you're dead.
That goes for everyone. If you don't know how to do something, ask someone who does. If you can't find anyone, then just learn. These are our rules, and these are our lives. Our future depends on it."
The group continues walking past the nearby cafeteria, and we eventually reach the final destination-
-another lengthy hallway, except this time, other Vault residents are queueing up towards various doors. Emily takes us to the last door on the left.
"These are USUALLY the extra panic rooms just in case the situation ever gets too bad. The people who stay in these rooms are the ones who are considered the most likely to survive, if the shit hits the fan. They are considered to be the safest rooms in the entire base. Now, however- each and every one of you will line up and be promptly interviewed by the team of Vault officials. Please take your positions. Remember, you'll need to answer questions about yourself, and the room will record everything. This is the only way you can get in, or get out."
We shuffle along after Emily takes her leave, and after about thirty seconds, the vault door opens. The first person to exit is a man with a long beard and sunglasses. I also couldn't help but notice a man with a paper bag over his head as he's escorted gently towards another room.
Why the hell did it have a frowny face on it, anyways?
It doesn't take long for the others in front of me to be ushered inside, and soon enough, it's my turn. I step forth, heading into the room to drown out the constant murmuring from the outside.
The interior of the room is dimly lit, and there's a large table in the middle of the floor. There's also a few chairs around the perimeter of the room, and a small podium in the back, next to a wall of monitors. I take a look around, and the place has a sterile, cold, almost clinical feel to it.
"Hi, I'm Mr. Gray. Nice to meet you. How are you doing today?" asks a man sitting behind the desk.
Mr. Gray has the typical Vault 74 jumpsuit, his face is clean shaven, and he looks like a very fit, muscular guy. He's probably in his late twenties, and is a bit shorter than me.
I take a few steps forth, greeting Mr. Gray: "Hi- how are you?"
"Good, thanks. And you're...?" Mr. Gray turns and nods at me.
"Eric. Eric Rogers." I stutter slightly, offering Mr. Gray a hand to shake.
"Nice to meet ya. So, why are you here, Eric? What brings you in, specifically?"
Oh, so that's what this is all about. I take a deep breath and try to relax.
I then take a seat to explain: "Well, aside from the literal nuclear Armageddon that just occurred right outside the front lawn- we don't have much of a choice, now do we?"
Mr. Gray chuckles a little, and says, "Yeah, no kidding. That was quite a show. You guys sure know your way around a nuke, huh?"
I stare blankly at his response, how tactless it was. But I brush it aside.
"Yeah. It's a good thing we were already inside when- the worst of it had unfolded." I reply with naiveite.
Mr. Gray laughs again. "True, true. Well, let's get started, shall we?" He motions with his hands, and the room's lights slowly brighten. The room's temperature seems to drop, too. My heart begins to beat faster.
"Alright, before we get started, just to confirm, you are aware of the rules and regulations, correct?" Mr. Gray continues.
"Aside from the norms and etiquette the Overseer- sorry, Mr. President would expect of his residents?" I answer without truly answering.
"That's right. We'll be asking you some questions, and you'll need to answer them honestly. If you lie, or give us false information, you'll be disqualified, and you'll be sent to the Detention Hall, where you'll be held until your trial. Do you understand?"
I nod.
"Okay, well, the interview will be conducted by myself, and the other two members of the team."
He gestures towards the Protectron and Mr. Gutsy behind him, revealed later on through better illumination of the room.
*Left: Protectron; Right: Mister Gutsy
"They'll be recording everything, and the footage will be reviewed by the Overseer. Okay, ready to begin? Let's start with your name, age, and occupation. Your full name is, of course..."
I continue to answer Mr. Gray's questions.
"Okay, well-" I twiddle my fingers between my thighs: "I'm Eric Rogers. 15 years old this year- and I was a high school student before the bombs fell."
"Right. Now, tell me about the incident that led you to come to Vault 74. How did you hear about the place? Where did you go after you heard?"
I take another deep breath, and recall the events of my journey to the vault. "Me and my dad, we drove all the way here- *sigh* And I heard about this Vault in particular thanks to him. As for your final question... well..." I reply, stammering a little as I do so.
"Well what?" Mr. Gray asks, raising an eyebrow.
"We're all here, now, aren't we?" I ask of him with a slight hint of sarcasm in my tone.
Mr. Gray's lips twitch into a smile, but he doesn't laugh. "Yes," he says, nodding. "But if there's anything you'd like to add, feel free. Anything at all. It could help. Or it might not. But I promise you, we won't make any judgment calls based off of our own assumptions. We want to know. That's why we're here. So, are you ready to talk, Eric?"
I hesitate.
"Do you have something to hide, son?"
Mr. Gray is smiling again, and I can see the tips of his teeth in the dim light.
"...No." I reply firmly, ass edging against the seat.
"Good. Then let's get started. First, why don't we discuss your personal history? You've been living alone, correct?"
"I lived with parents for quite some time, yes." I add.
"And they were deceased?" He asks.
"No."
"Then who were they?"
"My father was a scientist, and my mother was a doctor." I answer meekly.
"What kind of scientists?" Mr. Gray inquires.
"He worked with the military, and she studied medicine. She specialized in genetics, and-"
"Genetics?" Mr. Gray interrupts.
"Yea. She was involved with genetic engineering, and-"
"Why were you both working with the military?"
"I- I don't know what you're talking about-" I interrupt Mr. Gray back with beads of sweat falling down my face. I feel hands on my shoulders, and then arms encircling me, squeezing.
"Relax, Eric. We just need to get to the bottom of some things. What happened to your parents, and how you came to be here. There's no need to be nervous. We just need to get to the truth, and that's all. Okay?" Mr. Gray smiles, and I nod.
I breathe deeply, and relax. Mr. Gray continues.
"Okay. Now, your father, was he in the Army or the Air Force?"
"I don't- exactly no what you're talking about. My dad wasn't one for specifics regarding his work. I just followed by way of his interests, see. Mechanics, science- robots." I reply truthfully.
"Oh. I see. And your mother, was she a soldier too? A medic perhaps?"
"She was a surgeon." I answer, and Mr. Gray nods.
"Very good. Now, tell me, Eric, do you remember the date you arrived at Vault 74? Can you tell me that?"
I pause, and think. Wait. I already know this. I avert my gaze, back down towards the cold, sterile floor. I close my eyes, repressing the initial horrors I had witnessed right outside.
"October. October 23, 2077." I muster the courage to look back up.
Mr. Gray is still smiling, and there's not a hint of emotion in his voice as he speaks. "Do you have any other memories of that day?"
"Today. Today- you mean." I hunch over and look at the the clock on the wall, that tells the time-
3:17 PM.
"Yes. Tell us, did anything else happen today?" Mr. Gray questions.
"Nope. That's it. Just like yesterday, and the day before. The same thing every single day. Same food, same room, same bed, same clothes, and same TV. Nothing ever changes. It's always been like this. Every damn day, for what felt like an eternity that has yet to pass. No matter when we wake up in the morning, it'll always be 3:17PM. Always." I state to the older man with a straight-laced face.
The silence is deafening.
"It's okay, Eric. I understand. That's fine." Mr. Gray mentions, and I nod obediently.
"We're almost finished. I'd say we've gone through most of the important stuff, and I'm sure we can move forward from here." Mr. Gray says, and then adds, "Now, why don't we talk about the people who come into the vault, and leave, and never return?"
I look back at Gray, only to utter out: "What?"
"I said, I want to ask you about the people who visit the vault, and then they don't return. Do you know who they are, or where they went?"
"No. No- not at all, I mean- we just GOT HERE." I raise my voice slightly.
"Well, Eric, let me explain something. You're in the middle of a Wasteland. This isn't America anymore. But that doesn't necessarily mean we're in the Old World, and the law doesn't apply to you, and neither does justice. We're the government, and you're just a citizen. Now, I don't know what you're doing in the vault, but I don't believe you're breaking the laws of the land. I don't know what you're being held accountable to, and I certainly don't care. So, I don't really need to hear your side of the story. I just need you to answer the questions I pose. Is that clear enough for you?"
"Yeah, I guess... I got it. I'm sorry. I just-"
Mr. Gray: "Good. Now, I don't need you to apologize. I just wanted you to understand, what I was saying. I don't have time for your nonsense, so I just told you what I needed. Now, I have some more questions for you, and I would appreciate you answering them. Okay?"
"Sure." I shoot.
"Who was the first person you met upon your arrival at Vault 74?"
"'Mr. President', I suppose." I reply instantly. "Tell me, Mr. Gray- do you know of his 'real name'?"
Gray laughs, and responds, "Yes, Eric. I know of his real name. And yes, he is a president. Why? What's this about?"
"Well, do you mind if I ask of what that might be? He's quite the character, in spite of his age." I postulate.
"You are asking of who he is, and what he represents. Well, I'll tell you. He is a man of many faces. He's a politician, a leader, and a diplomat. He's a good speaker, an excellent debater and writer. He's a capable, resourceful administrator with a wide range of knowledge in both science and art. He's a caring and compassionate human being."
"He's a wise, experienced statesman. He's a visionary, and a patriot. He's an idealist, and a pragmatist. He's a humble, and yet a proud man. He's a teacher, and a mentor. He's a lover and a fighter. He's a thinker and a planner. He's a dreamer and a schemer. He's a soldier, and a warrior. He's a builder and a destroyer. He is the only hope left, and the last line of defense against the coming chaos. He is the man who will lead us out of this hell, and into the light. That is who he is, and that is who he is known as."
"...Okay, but who is he, really- Mr. Gray?" I ask again, not flinching once.
"I am the one who answers such questions, Eric." Mr. Gray brushes my question aside, and continues, "Now, I'd like to ask you a few more questions. Are you married, Eric?"
"..."
"NO. Dude, I'm 15." I comment on how awkward that line of questioning truly is, even shaking my head at how banal that was.
"Are you in a relationship, Eric?" Mr. Gray asks.
"-No. Not at all, frankly." I shrug indignantly.
"Do you have any children, Eric?"
"NO."
"Have you ever been in love, Eric?"
I heave my chest, crossing my arms as I do it. "No." I answer him, flatly.
"Are you a virgin, Eric?"
"What is this supposed to prove?" I ask, somewhat irritated by his continued questions.
"It doesn't. I'm just trying to get to know you a little better, Eric. You're going to be here for a while, so I thought it would be best to try to find out about you. I'm just curious, that's all. Do you have anything else you want to say?" Mr. Gray asks, and I shake my head: "No."
"Then, I think that concludes our interview, Eric. Thank you for your time." Mr. Gray stands up, and walks over to the door, where he turns around, and looks at me with his piercing eyes.
Suddenly, as I stand up and begin to take my leave, Mr. Gray hands me something out of the blue.
I look down at the device upon my hands: "Is that a- Pip-Boy 3000? THE real deal?" I ask, incredulously.
"Yes. It's a Pip-Boy, Eric, and the real thing. The real, original, and genuine article." Mr. Gray says, simply.
I manage to work my way around its collapsible latch, attaching it onto my left forearm easily in front of the interviewer. I don't know why he gave this to me, but I assume he's giving me a gift, or a token, of some sort. I can't help but feel honored.
Mr. Gray briefly explains: "This is a Pip-boy 3000, which is an improved version of the first model. There are several things that make this a superior model, including the addition of a radio receiver and a compass, both of which are extremely useful features in certain situations. This model also has a much larger battery than previous models, and is capable of holding a charge for a significantly longer period of time. These are all great improvements over the earlier models."
As I examine the device further, I notice that there's a small slot in the center of the back panel, and another one on top of the right side.
"The slot on the bottom is used to insert cartridges containing audio recordings, while the slot on the top allows you to insert data chips, such as those from a computer game cartridge. It also contains a special cable to connect two devices together. Of course, that's some of the information that will be presented in the seminar later this evening, located straight from the classrooms themselves." Mr. Gray informs me, before walking away, leaving me alone.
I stare at the Pip-Boy, thinking about what Mr. Gray said. I have no idea what he meant by 'cartridge.'
"Hello again, Eric." I turn around, startled, and see that Mr. Gray is standing behind me. He must have been hiding in the shadows.
"Hello- Um, Mr. Gray, what did you mean by- 'seminar'? That implies that each and every one of us has a Pip-Boy now, right?" I ask of him.
"That is correct." Mr. Gray responds, as if it were obvious.
I shift towards the door, as it automatically opens up to reveal the hallway. I walk through it, into the hall where everyone else is, turning to face Mr. Gray, who is following close behind. Mr. Gray instructs me to head to my residential room by navigating the marker on my Pip-Boy: "Go to your assigned residence, Eric. You'll have to use the map on your Pip-Boy to guide you. Just follow it to your new home. Good luck, Eric. I hope you enjoy it here, as I'm sure you're going to be living here for quite a while. Take care, Eric. Goodbye."
"Thank you, Mr. Gray. I appreciate it." I say to him as I walk off down the corridor.
"Oh, my god! What happened to you?! You look like you've seen a ghost!" I hear someone say, as they rush up to me. I recognize her voice: "It's so good to see you, Eric. I'm glad you're okay. Are you alright? Did something happen to you out there?!"
I get spooked, turning back towards the source of the voice, only to reveal a young girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a bright smile. The Vault jumpsuit she's wearing is a bit different than mine, but it's still recognizable. She's looking at me in a very concerned manner. She's a bit shorter than me, and has a slim build.
"Do I... Do I know you?" I ask of the girl, noticing that she has a Pip-Boy 3000 on her left, just like mine. I guess that means that we're both part of this whole thing.
She smiles, and says, "Yes, yes, I know. We met a little bit ago, remember?" She looks over my shoulder, and points in the direction of the main entrance. "You should go inside, and wait in that room until it's time for the seminar. It starts in a few minutes. Oh, and please, call me Sofia. Everyone does, even though it makes me feel weird. Here," she says, handing me an envelope that contains a piece of paper and a key.
"What's this?" I ask warily while reluctantly taking the handout. She gives me a knowing nod, as if she knows exactly what's in the envelope, before saying, "The key to the safe deposit box. It's yours, now. It's a gift from the vault. Use it whenever you want. It's a token of our friendship. Okay, see you later, Eric. Be careful out there, okay?"
I take the envelope, and the key, as she walks away from me. She turns around to give me a wink, then disappears into the crowd.
"'Safe deposit box'? ...The fuck?" I look back down to inspect the key more carefully. Its shape and design are familiar, and yet completely foreign. I can't place it. I decide that I'll try it out in the next day or two, and if I don't find anything in the safe, I'll figure it out.
As I walk towards the residential area, I notice that I seem to be getting a lot of attention. I'm being stared at by a number of people, and it's starting to make me a little uncomfortable. I wonder why. I keep my eyes fixated on my Pip-Boy, trying desperately to follow the marker to my supposed room. As if the scenario wasn't already awkward enough for me. I'm not used to all these strangers staring at me. I'm used to living alone, with no one to talk to. But I'm also aware that this whole situation is new to everyone as well. So I have to act the way I would if it were just another day.
I walk up to the door, which is marked with the same symbol I saw on the marker on my Pip-Boy. It is a four-sided star with a cross through the center. I immediately notice the port-shaped hole beside the door, as I pull out the cord from my Pip-Boy to slot it in, and unlock the door.
I walk inside, and am greeted with the sight of a large, empty, rectangular space with a bed, dresser and a desk. In addition to the usual amenities a bedroom should have. I walk over to the bathroom, and I'm surprised to see a shower, sink, toilet and a bathtub. I turn back to the bedroom, and my jaw drops when I see my luggage neatly tucked by the edge of the room, right by the door. I quickly unpack all of my things, slowly but surely fitting everything nicely in this new room of mine, finally finishing it off by landing on my bed.
I couldn't have been any wiser, when I decide to open up Sofia's envelope to check on that piece of paper I have yet to read. I unfold it, and I recognize the words written on it.
'Eric, I know you're going to think this is a little weird, but I just wanted you to know, that I care about you. I know you're probably confused, and I know it's a little hard for you to understand. I hope that someday, you'll accept it. I know it's a little late for this, and I know that you're mad, and that I might've made a mistake, but I just wanted to say that I-'
The remainder of the paper seems to have be smudged, so I sigh out in disappointment as I crumble the paper up and toss it into the nearby trash can.
Once I'm ready, I head on over to the classroom area to join the seminar, with others already seated. I take a seat by the front, since the ones at the back are already taken.
The teacher, Director Williams, enters the room, and he greets us. He's a middle aged man in his mid 50's. He's got a nice smile, and a friendly disposition.
"Hello everyone! My name is Mr. Williams, and I will be your instructor today."
Everyone responds in kind, and the class begins. It's pretty jarring, considering the fact that adults and small children are seated in the same classroom as literal teenagers for something like this. Mr. Williams goes on to explain the general overview of the course, and the basic structure of the semester.
Mr. Williams explains how currency is traded in the Vault: "All items found within the vault, including weapons, armor, ammo, food, water, medicine, etc., are considered to be legal tender. You may trade these items for US dollars, or vice versa, at the current market value."
At first, I'm not sure what to make of this, as I'm used to the old system where all I had to do was find an item and pick it up. But I guess this is the new normal. I'm still not used to the idea, however. I don't feel comfortable with the thought of trading my precious gear for money. I'm not exactly rich, but I'm not poor either. But the more we go along, the more I realize that this is actually very convenient for me.
Mr. Williams mentions: "You can use the lounge to exchange anything from snacks to meals to toiletries. Everything is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week, except for certain items, such as weapons and ammunition. These are locked down until someone goes in and pays. If you need a weapon, then go to the armory and pick something up. You can check your household funds by way of your Pip-Boy, and you can also get more money through your respective jobs. The best thing to do is to save up some cash, and buy whatever you want."
"You should try to earn as much as possible, so you can buy things you want, and then you can sell off the items you no longer need. It is a good strategy, to acquire items and then to sell them for a profit. That is the key to success, and it is a good idea to learn as much as you can about the items available. You never know when you might need them for yourself, so you need to have a plan. Also, if you want something specific and rare, then you need to work hard to obtain it."
He then gestures towards the pile of tapes on the desk: "These are the instructional tapes for your Pip-Boys. Not only do they educate you on how the use the device in a more... convenient manner, it also documents each and every one of your jobs and assignments that you'll be performing for the foreseeable future. Make sure you read all of the information, and understand everything that's written there, because you'll be expected to complete the tasks outlined in the manual, and you'll be assessed based on the quality of the job you did, and the time you spent doing it. Do you have any questions about the class?"
A blonde boy raises his hand in an innocent manner and asks, "What's the purpose of this class? What am I supposed to be learning?"
Mr. Williams smiles: "Well, the main goal of this class is to give you a better understanding about how the world works. I hope that you will gain knowledge and experience that will help you in the real world, and that will enable you to make the right decisions. I think that you will find this class to be both interesting and rewarding."
He nods in agreement.
"Any other questions?"
The class goes quiet, and everyone looks at Mr. Williams expectantly.
"Very well. Now, I'd like to ask that you pay attention to what is being said, and that you take notes. This class is now finished, as we require our residents to begin work as swiftly as possible. Now, please, before you leave, make sure to form a line and grab the holotape that I give to you in an orderly fashion. Once you exit the room I would like to see all of you walking out together, and not running. I don't want to hear any complaints, and I certainly do not want to see any fighting. You are all here to work, and I do not want to waste my valuable time dealing with problems. I do not want to deal with people who are disrespectful, or uncooperative."
I look around the room and notice that everyone seems to be taking this seriously. We slowly get up, and queue once more as I eventually receive my holotape and head out.
I decide to lean against a wall, reading the contents of the tape after slotting it into my Pip-Boy, becoming slowly enraptured by the visuals of the compact device. The Pip-Boy is a very advanced piece of technology, which allows its user to access a myriad of features, including: a map of the surrounding area; a compass; a chronometer; a radio; a Geiger counter and a bar graph display for various statistics, such as health and ammo capacity. The Pip-Boy also serves as a portable computer, with a touch screen and a keyboard, allowing you to use the device to perform a variety of functions.
Suddenly, I get jolted up by a woman's frustrated scream. I look away from the Pip-Boy 3000 to see a Mexican woman with long red hair and green eyes angrily complaining to Mr. Williams right by the door.
She is complaining: "But why should I have to do something so menial? Why can't someone else just do it if they're willing? WHY DO I HAVE TO WORK AS A PRIVATE?!" She shouts over and over again, her face turning bright red in anger.
A security staff member tries to calm the situation down: "Calm yourself, ma'am. We've explained the rules to you, and you agreed to them, so you must abide by those terms. If you don't like the job you'll be doing, then I suggest you find another job to fulfill your daily quota. There are many different jobs available in HERE, some of which may suit you better than others."
The woman can be seen being held back by what seems to be her two daughters, one blonde and one red haired like herself. The Mexican man with the lame ass tattoo is amongst them as well.
Mr. Williams smiles politely, raising his hand for the soldier to stand down and replies: "Because you were chosen to participate in this program because of your skills and abilities, Miss Caliente. As our staff told you when you arrived at here, you will be working as a Private, and we will be overseeing you and the other participants. I hope that you will be able to make the best of this experience. Please, try to be patient with each other, and I believe that you will be treated fairly."
"And I'm sure you will, sir. Thank you." The Mexican man replies, pulling her away from him like a dog whisperer to a rabid dog. He whispers in her ear, and she looks at him, nodding in agreement. He smiles, before looking at the rest of the group, who seem to all be getting on fine.
One of Mrs. Caliente's daughters, the blonde one- who has been quiet, speaks up to Mr. Williams. Her voice is low, and soft, and I cannot understand what she says. However, Mr. Williams nods in understanding and answers, smiling warmly.
"Yes, I'm sorry, but we don't speak Spanish, and I don't think that anyone in this room does. But, I promise that you are all going to be given an equal chance. I know that this is difficult to hear, especially with the way that things are, and I really am sorry."
Wow. Talk about 'equal opportunity'.
Once I head back and receive my instructions, I skim through most of it. That being the tutorial on how to use the Pip-Boy 3000 and its capabilities, instructional videos on what to expect in living in a fallout shelter; my designation as 'high school student'.
Substandard stuff.
However, I get shocked by what shows up on a certain part of it is labelled as. More specifically, what's under my 'occupation' tab.
"JUNIOR SCIENTIST"
"NEXT MEETING: 5:00 PM"
I keep a straight face, and nervously head towards the elevator in the main hall, already finding myself excited. This is something new. Something different. An occupation. And not just any occupation, but one that has nothing to do with boredom or mundane labor. In fact, I could say that it's more of an intellectual pursuit than anything else.
Yeah, that sounds good.
I also can't help but notice a congregation forming by the lounge area. It would seem as though others have already begun assembling to what seems to be their first day of work as well. This was the same for the kitchen area as well. I for one, wouldn't want a Mr. Handy handling any pufferfish anytime soon.
As I head towards the elevator, a black lady cladded in darker security armor stop me: "Where are you headed?"
She is definitely in charge of this place. She must be a Sergeant Major, maybe? Or a Lieutenant Colonel. I can tell from her tone and demeanor.
"The research and development section. The labs." I answer, trying to sound confident, but fail as I squeal a little. "I'm expected there, just like the rest."
She sizes me up through that thick visor of hers, by way of her helmet: "No. You're not. You don't belong there."
My age and inexperience must've given it away, somehow.
"That's right. You're a kid. And you don't look old enough to-"
"Don't worry, ma'am. We'll take good care of him. You can trust us. Just follow us, and we'll make sure you don't go astray."
It's a good thing that she doesn't press the issue. I can feel my heart beating out of control in my chest, as if it's a bomb about to explode at any second. But, it's okay. The other black lady with a good majority of her dark hair flowing off to her right side managed to help me out.
Another security guard goes up to the stuck-up one and goes: "Ma'am, I need you to leave this boy alone. He needs to see his assigned supervisor, so he can get started on his duties. If you insist, then I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside until we are finished. Do we understand each other?"
"Under whose orders?"
"It just came in from upper staff themselves."
The radio on his chest crackles a bit.
The young man in question, who I presume is her inferior, nods along with the gruff guard in response.
"Good. Thank you, Private. Now, let's get this done, shall we?" The gentler woman escorts me suddenly.
She turns and walks in the direction of the elevator, and I can't help but begin following behind. The door shuts, as I find myself alone with more adults. All crammed in one place.
I'm the ONLY kid here.
The woman from before introduces herself to me: "Welcome, my name is Bess Sterling. Welcome to Research and Development. It's nice to meet you. So, what's your name?"
"Eric. Eric Rogers." I reply without looking back at Bess, coldly staring back at my feet.
I know it's rude, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I'm still scared. I just want to run. I can't help but think that I'm going to be punished for something I haven't even done yet.
Bess smiles. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers. I'm the assistant to Dr. Johnson. I'm very glad to be working with such a brilliant mind. I can't believe how much knowledge is contained within that head of yours. I hope to learn as much as I possibly can from you."
"...What's that supposed to mean?" I look back at Bess, warily placing my foot off to the side.
"You're an intelligent young man, aren't you?" Bess asks me.
"Sure."
"And a bright one. I can tell. But you're also a little...different. A bit of a misfit, I'd say. Maybe a loner. I can tell you've had a hard life. I can tell you don't really fit in. You're different. Your eyes are a deep blue. And I can tell you're a little nervous. Are you sure you're ready to work here?" Bess inquires, smiling.
"...My eyes are BROWN, Miss Sterling." I correct her dismissively, waking up to the fact that we're still crowded with other people in the lift.
Bess looks away, blushing.
"Sorry. Just, a habit. My eyes are brown. Not blue. Brown. Like, chocolate. Or maybe coffee. Dark. Not light. Very dark. Blue is a color, not a shade. Do you understand, Mr. Rogers? Good. That's good. We'll get along fine, then."
Bess is quiet for a moment, and I can hear her thinking to herself about something. Then she says: "Oh! Sorry, did I offend you, Mr. Rogers?"
"I don't know, did you?" I reply back rather sarcastically.
"No, no. Of course not. I didn't mean to. I was just curious. About your eye colour. Is it a family thing?" She continues.
"Sure it is." I answer, as we all hear the bell chime, indicating that we've arrived at the designated floor. The doors open, and we step out.
I follow the group as we head into the research and development section, entering another room from before, but this time-
-it sprays us with gas, catching all of us off guard with the detoxification sprayer. It hits everyone, including myself. After a few seconds of being dazed, I start coughing a bit, closing my eyes and mouth to endure how sudden that was. When I open my eyes, the door to the lab opens, and a man in a white coat walks up to us, followed by two others in hazmat suits.
The man bolsters: "I'm Doctor Williams. Some of you might already know me as 'that old chap in the classroom' from earlier. I'm going to be your instructor today. Welcome to Research and Development. This is where we develop our most advanced technology, and where you will learn how to use it. Now, I want to introduce you to your team. This is Dr. Johnson, who is going to be in charge of 'innovative technology advancements', and he's also the reason why you're here. He's also known around these parts as "The Mad Genius". This is Dr. Jones, a specialist in engineering. He's also known around these parts as "The Engineer". Please, come in."
As all of us are escorted further into the confines of the lab, over there-
"Lastly, I want to introduce you to Dr. Rogers. Dr. Dave Rogers." Dr. Williams extends his arm out to present the man himself.
That's where he stood.
My father, in a pristine, white coat, standing by the stairwell of the research and development section, wearing a smile.
"Hello, everyone. I'm the 'Head of Science', or the Head Scientist for short. I am in charge of overseeing the entire department. I hope you're all having a great day so far. I would like to welcome you to my office. I think you'll find this place very interesting, and I promise you're in for a treat. For those of you who are new to the Research and Development Section, I'd like to tell you a little bit about what to expect. I won't go too much into detail, but I'll give you a general overview. I know you're probably a bit nervous right now, but I assure you, you're in good hands. You're in the best possible hands. So, let's get started."
Dr. Johnson and Jones stand aside and remove their hazmat suits, as Dr. Williams steps forth and introduces his role to the lab: "Now, I'll explain to you a bit about what you'll be doing here. I'll also show you around, and I'll answer any questions you have. I'll also provide you with a brief explanation about some of the more advanced technologies here, and I'll try to make sure you understand everything. You'll be working together to complete a project, which is a part of a larger experiment. I'll also try to help you if you need it. I'll teach you how to work as a group, and I'll train each of you individually."
"I'll make this brief. We'll be conducting a roll call, and then we can start. I know this can be pretty scary, but I'm confident that we'll overcome it and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that we succeed. I want all of you to know that I believe in all of you. I want all of you to realize that this is your opportunity. I don't care whether you've been here before. I don't care if you're the smartest person in your class, or if you're a genius. All that matters is how hard you put in."
He walks on over to a nearby long table, almost cat-like in his movements. There, a clipboard is raised.
"Alright, first off, I'm going to call out each and every one of your names. I want you to say 'here' when you hear your name called, and I want you to state your full name. When I call your name, you will come forward once I mention which division you'll be under. Once I confirm your division, head on over to your division head and grab a lab coat with your name on it. That can be from either myself, Dr. Johnson or Dr. Jones. If anyone has any problems with anything at all, please feel free to speak up. And, lastly, I just wanted to say, I'm looking forward to seeing all of you in action. I'm really excited to see what you all become. This could very well change the world. Now, let's begin."
The Director calls out the following list, in order, as the people respond to him.
"Here!"
"I'm Jessica, I'm in the Biology Division."
"Hello, I'm Claire. I'm in the Psychology Department."
"Hello, I'm Nicole. I'm in the Chemistry Department."
"Hi, I'm Kelly. I'm in the Physics Department."
"Hello, I'm Andrew. I'm in the Mathematics and Statistics Department."
"Cameron Fletcher?" Dr. Williams calls out.
"Yes, I'm Cameron Fletcher." A young black male with glasses and a recognizable do steps forth.
Dr. Williams smiles: "Cameron Fletcher." He looks down at his clipboard, and continues: "You're in the Engineering Section."
Cameron frowns. He was expecting something else. But he nods anyway. "Thank you, sir," he says. He turns to the others, walking on over to Dr. Jones and the others.
"Nancy Landgraab?" Dr. Williams asks, turning to the next woman.
She stands firm and responds: "Here, I'm Nancy Landgraab."
The blonde woman with a medium-length bob cut looks fancy. Fancy enough to wear large gold earrings to lab work.
"You're in the Weapons Lab Section, correct? Good. Well done, Miss Landgraab."
The blonde woman seems surprised by this response and she stares back at the man before her.
Dr. Williams and Nancy exchange glances for a moment, only for the former to apologize: "Apologies. MISSUS Landgraab. We've been having a bit of trouble with the paperwork, and we didn't catch that. Sorry about the mixup."
The woman sighs. She knows it's no big deal. She's used to such things.
She' is a 'Landgraaber', after all.
She walks away, and the director continues calling out the names of the men.
"Leslie Holland."
The blonde with short, curly hair takes one step forward.
She replies in turn: "Here, Leslie Holland."
"Leslie Holland, you are in the Engineering Section."
Leslie is a little stunned. She's acting as if she's never heard those words before. She doesn't know what to say. She just stands there, frozen, until finally, she stutters: "Uh... yes, sir. Thank you. Yes. Uh. I am. In. The. Engineering. Section. Sir. Thank you. Very much. For your time, sir. I look forward to working with you. And everyone here. On our project. To create a new weapon system. That will be superior. To anything. Ever made. Before. By any other. Vault-Tec. Employee."
The rest of us look on at the stuttering woman silently.
Dr. Williams stops her: "That was quite impressive, Ms. Holland. You have my respect. Now, please, go to your station. And get to work."
Leslie bows slightly, and heads off to her assigned post.
"Julia Wright." Dr. Williams calls out.
But I clearly wasn't paying attention by that point.
At the corner of my eye, that rapturous, invisible aura exuded by that woman back at the Vault's entrance can be seen. By this point, each and every one of us have spread evenly out amongst one another, but I simply didn't care. All I could do was tune everything else out while gawking at her for no apparent reason.
She is beautiful. Her eyes sparkle like diamonds. Her skin is so tan, it's almost reminiscent of the fine, grainy sands of old Hawaii. Her face is perfectly symmetrical, and she has an air of elegance about her. She is tall and slender, yet somehow, she manages to seem curvier than most women I've ever seen. I feel myself becoming hypnotized by the beauty of the young lady standing before me.
I'm not sure why, exactly.
But an angel has landed on my doorstep, and I sure as shit ain't gonna waste such a pristine opportunity like this.
In the blink of an eye, the Director has already begun calling on somebody else entirely: "Bella Goth?"
"Yes, I'm Bella Goth." The apple of my eye twitches.
"You're in the Engineering Section."
"Oh. Right. Of course."
"Good. Well, I'll see you later."
"Yes, I'm looking forward to it."
And with that, the motherly figure turns and begins walking away.
Bella.
Bella Goth?
'GOTH'?!
Such an ugly surname. Jesus.
I could suck lemons and cringe less than the thought of such a frivolous naming convention.
"Lydia Mathers?" Dr. Williams asks.
"Here, Lydia Mathers," she responds, stepping forward.
"You're in the Weapons Lab Section. Good. Well done."
"Thank you, sir. It's a pleasure to meet all of you. I hope to make a contribution to the team. I've been a member of the Vault-Tec Corporation for over ten years now, and I've never had such a fulfilling job."
"Well, that's good. We all know how hard we all work here."
"Of course, sir. I look forward to serving you."
"We'll get to know each other better, then."
"Absolutely, sir."
"Now, go to your station."
"Yes, sir."
"Marcus Davis."
"Here, Marcus Davis."
"You are in the Biology Section. Go ahead."
The balding man steps forward, and replies: "Yes, Dr. Williams. Thank you."
The man is completely unimpressed. He is not impressed at all. He is not even remotely interested. Not at all. The man looks around, and sees the rest of us, and he doesn't really care. He just wants to get to his station, and get to work. So, the man moves on.
Dr. Williams calls out to the next person: "Leslie Harker."
The girl with the blonde hair and blue eyes steps forward.
"Leslie Harker, right. You are in the engineering section."
Just like the rest before her, she walks towards her division, where the people are.
"Eric Rogers?"
I stand to attention, akin to a cadet in training: "HERE, SIR! I mean- Eric Rogers, PRESENT!"
The man smiles, and says: "Right. Well, aren't you a little too young to be a scientist, son?"
William's eyes are stand unshaken. His voice is as cold and steady as ice. The man's eyes widen slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards into a smile.
I know it. He thinks that he's toying with me.
"Compared to everyone else around here, well..." I look around and about at my peers, and I can tell by their reactions, that they don't think so.
I'm the youngest one here. I'm the only one who is still a child. The man continues.
"I'm sure you'll do fine. Just remember, when you need to, you have to ask. And you have to listen. But most of all, you must follow orders. Do you understand me, young man? I'm not going to repeat myself."
I nod my head vigorously, and say: "Yes, sir."
"By the by, Mr. Rogers. You'll be under the Engineering Section, and I'll expect you to begin immediately."
I raise a finger and swing that arm around: "Will do, sir." I hide my giddiness as I leap on over to Director Jones and his batch of scientists.
I keep my distance from Bella as of now, preferring to be in the company of Cameron Fletcher and a black lady around his age, with long, brown-braided ponytail for hair.
She's got a name tag which reads "Julia Wright".
"Hi. My name is Cameron Fletcher. It's nice to meet you."
I look back at him in mild annoyance, and he smiles and winks. He knows what I want, and he's giving it to me. Julia is a bit more reserved, but very polite. She smiles, and shakes my hand. We're all in a hurry, and we move along.
"Nice to meet you, too." I offhandedly tell both Cameron and Julia.
They grin at each other. Damn, its as if they're looking at a lost puppy. Dr. Jones stops and turns around, and looks at us.
He grins, and says: "Alright, you lot. Get in line. Let's get started. Follow the red arrows. If you see any blue ones, ignore them. We don't need any of those."
I turn around, and start walking.
Bella follows behind me, and she's doing the same thing.
The rest of the group are following, and I hear the words "blue arrow" being said.
We arrive at the engineering section, the destination of which was marked clearly by red arrows on the floor for clear decorative purposes. The area is big, and there's a number of people waiting in front of a large glass wall. There's a counter, and a man sitting on a stool. He's wearing a white lab coat, with a clipboard in his hands. He's a rather handsome fellow, with dark hair and beard, a strong nose, and a pair of glasses on his face. He has a good physique, and a broad chest. He's clean-shaven, and seems like a really smart guy.
"How may I help you?" He asks, without even bothering to look up. He's busy writing something down.
Director Jones walks towards the counter, and places his hand on the man's shoulder.
The man's eyes open wide, and he stares directly into the director's eyes, while keeping his pen pointed away from the paper. He then quickly stands up, and takes the director's hand.
The two men shake hands, and the director says: "It's been quite some time, Professor Hans. I'm glad to see you still haven't changed your mind about this project."
The professor, whose name is Dr. Oskar Hans based on his visible name tag, replies:
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. I've always had my doubts about the whole idea of this project."
"I know, I know. But that will change, now that I'm here. You'll be working with the best of the best, here. I'm sure you'll do fine."
"I'm sure I will."
Dr. Hans notices us right up front, and calls out to us: "Hey, kids! Come over here!"
I'm not sure why, but I stop and wait for the others to catch up.
Dr. Jones: "This is the team. They're going to be helping us with the work."
Cameron: "Hello. My name is Cameron Fletcher. It's nice to meet you."
Julia: "Hi. My name is Julia Wright. It's nice to meet you."
I feel a little awkward, and so I just wave back.
Dr. Hans looks us over, and nods.
"Alright, you lot. Get to it. You'll be under the Engineering Section, and I'll expect you to begin immediately."
A Mr. Handy hovers over to Han's side, and hands him a clipboard, and a pen.
Dr. Hans starts scribbling onto the clipboard.
The Mr. Handy leans closer to the scientist, prosing in its British accent:
"Professor? Can you please tell me what you have written?"
He says: "Just a moment, 'sir'. Let me see if I can read this first..."
He reads the clipboard, and says: "Okay, we'll start the test run in five minutes. Please go ahead and assemble the equipment."
Mr. Jones points around the room, letting us know of the various robots surrounding us, acting stationary on top of multiple workbenches.
"You'll need these," He tells the group. "They all have different functions, and they are all autonomous. They'll keep the other machines running, and make sure everything's in order. I'm told the robots are very reliable, and won't give any trouble. So, let's get started, shall we?"
The rest of us newbies spread out and call dibs for the workspaces that we can begin to become accustomed too. Bella and I walk towards a nearby robot. There's a small box on a table next to it, and a man in a white lab coat is standing to the side of it.
"Unit deactivating. This troop is hitting the rack!"
I instantly recognize the model even before the voice, and call out: "That's a genuine Mister Gutsy!"
The man turns and smiles at me.
"Yes, it's one of the old models, isn't it. I'm Doctor Smith. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Bella."
"Eric Rogers. Sir." I nod back energetically.
"Are you and your friend here to help with the project, or to watch?"
I look back and away from Bella for a moment, then back at Dr. Smith and the robot he's working on: "Its third eye right there. The servo for its a little loose, doncha think?"
"Oh yeah, you're absolutely correct. I've been meaning to fix this, but I've been so busy with the project. I'm sorry about the delay." Dr. Smith apologizes, as he reaches into the chest of the robot, and pulls out the faulty part. Then, he gets his tools, and begins to work. I'm not really sure how the project will turn out, since I'm still learning the ins-and-outs of the program. But, I'm sure I'll learn more about it, once I'm able to use the technology.
"I'm sorry, but what is this 'project' that everyone's talking about, Doctor Smith?" I ask beside Bella, who looks a little bit more than just lost.
"It's an experiment that I'm conducting. I hope you two will be able to participate."
Bella: "I can't wait to hear what you have to say."
Dr. Smith: "I'm glad to see you're so excited. Well, I'll tell you a little bit of the story, but I'd like to save the details for another time. I want to show you the results of my work first."
We follow the doctor over to a large computer console, where a few men in the same lab coats are sitting.
Dr. Smith: "Alright, gentlemen, let's see what you got."
One of the men pushes a button, and the monitor lights up.
Dr. Smith: "This is the main screen, where we can see the progress of the entire system."
The man to the left of the doctor taps a key, and the image on the display changes.
Dr. Smith: "As you can see, we have a fully functional automated manufacturing facility. We are currently producing the parts needed to construct several dozen robots such as the 'Mister Gutsy's', which you can see on the upper left corner of the picture. As you know, the robots are designed to assist the humans in the development of the Vault itself, and in the maintenance of the facilities. However, the robots are also being used to develop new technologies, and to explore the unknown. That's why we are taking the risk of developing them in the Vault, with the supervision of the Overseer himself, of course."
Bella and I are both looking at the screens, and we can't believe our eyes.
Bella: "So, the robots are going to help us make the weapons and stuff?"
Dr. Smith: "That's right, Mrs. Goth. The robots will take care of the heavy lifting, and they won't need to eat or sleep. They'll do all the hard work, and the human workers will only have to focus their attention on the tasks that require a higher degree of precision. It's a win-win situation for everybody. This is a very important step in the evolution of mankind."
Bella: "But, won't it get lonely? Won't there be no one around for us to talk to?"
Dr. Smith: "Well, it's true that the machines will not interact with people in any way, but the fact remains that the humans are the ones who created the robots. The robots were built by the humans, and therefore, the relationship between the two is symbiotic. I think you'll find it to be a mutually beneficial arrangement. The robots are capable of doing things that the humans cannot, and the humans are able to utilize the abilities of the robots, and vice versa. So, you should feel free to call on the robots at any time, if you ever have questions or concerns."
"Yeah- plus, it helps to be efficient in these trying times, right? No reason to work yourself up over nothing, right?" I suggest to Bella.
Bella nods her head, but she still seems a little sad.
"Alright, I'm sure that you two would like to go ahead and check out the rest of the facility. I'll leave you two alone, so that you can discuss your plans. I'm sure that you're going to be busy, but I hope that you'll give me a call sometime soon."
Bella: "Yes, Doctor Smith. Thank you."
Dr. Smith leaves the room, while I look at Bella.
I then turn my attention to an unattended Protectron unit, in an idle sitting position next to a vacant desk as I prance over to it to get started. I walk over to a console, where I press a few buttons, and the robot's arms begin moving. I look over at Bella, who's standing beside the door.
She looks a bit confused, so I ask after taking a really good look around the room, "Guess there's a lack of workstations around here, huh?"
Bella: "I guess. But, the machines are pretty helpful, don't you think?" She says, and she smiles.
I turn back to the Protectron at hand: "You know, I could use some effort for the here guy, he looks pretty bent out of shape-" Taking a closer look through pure observation alone, sure- it looks banged up, as though somebody ran a train on this thing, buuuut.
This bad boy might just be in the right hands.
"Pass me that wrench over there- if you don't mind?" I ask of Bella without even thinking while using a brightly lit flashlight to inspect its already cracked hull.
Bella: "Sure, what's the problem with the machine?"
I quickly open the hatch, and the interior lights come on automatically.
Bella: "Oh, okay. That's better."
I take the small toolbox from the shelf, and I remove the screwdriver, the pliers, the hammer, the tape measure, and the other tools.
Bella: "What are you doing?"
I place the toolbox on the floor, and I start removing the screws.
Bella: "Are you gonna fix him?"
I finish with the last of the four screws, and I take the cover off. The inside of the machine is a mess. It's full of wires, and parts, and circuits, and stuff.
Bella: "Do you have to do that? It's not broken, is it?"
I point at a circuit board with a red LED light on top of it: "Well... mmgh, AH! As you can see right here-" I say, and I move the switch. "Yeah."
Bella: "It doesn't work!" She exclaims.
I look down at the panel, and I try to make sense of it.
Bella: "Why are you looking at that instead of the screen?"
I then proceed to disconnect the motherboard.
Bella: "Is that a good idea?"
I quickly power up the nearby terminal, and I connect it to the power supply with the cable. The monitor comes alive with a black screen.
Bella: "Wow, it worked."
I grab a soldering iron, and I touch it to a wire, and I apply heat.
Bella: "That's dangerous, isn't it? You're going to melt something."
I ignore her, and I continue to solder.
Bella: "Don't you need special equipment?"
I then attach the keyboard to a different port on the computer, and I plug it into the wall.
Bella: "I'm so confused. Why would you want to put a keyboard in a robot?"
I stop what I'm doing, then turn back around to repeat what she had said, albeit in a more polite manner: "Why, of course, it's to 'fix' the very brain that allows the Protectron, this guy right here, to function. This terminal has one too, you know." I pat that like an uncle with his nephew during a family get together.
Bella however, does not look pleased. She's confused, and she's worried.
Bella: "But, how will you fix the problem?" She asks, and she looks at me, and she looks at my hands. "You'll burn yourself."
I smile at her, and I go over to the control panel, and I flip a few switches, and the screen starts showing a blue background.
Bella: "Okay, now what?" She says with a hint of worry in her voice.
I respond instantly by flipping another switch.
Bella: "Oh, okay. So you can fix him?"
I go over to the control panel, and I press a button, and a green light flashes. Looking satisfied with my progress so far, I turn back to the pestering Bella, only to be met with a look of utter confusion on her face. She kinda looks like a deer in headlights.
Bella: "What's happening?"
I reply with a question of my own, raising my eyebrows knowingly at her while I'm at it: "That was a little too fast for it to pass, huh?"
Bella: "Huh?"
I point at the blinking cursor on the screen, and I suggest: "How about I show you some tips of the trade, except this time- in a pace that you're more comfortable with?"
She nods, and I start to explain the process of using the computer.
Bella: "I think that's a great idea!"
I start to teach her the basics of the software that runs the Protectrons.
Bella: "What's the difference between the files and folders?"
I nod as I consider the best way to answer her question.
Bella: "And, when you save a file or folder, where do they end up?"
"Well, let's see, uh, well, the actual location of the data is in the memory, which, of course, resides within the main processor, and it's stored there until it is needed, and then it is transferred to the storage device, and that's, um, that's it." I say while getting some nitty-gritty out of the way.
Bella: "Wow, that sounds complicated!"
I look at the monitor again. It's working! The cursor is flashing and moving across the screen. I start to type something. Realizing what I had just done just then, I get involuntarily flustered out, like a firecracker that went off beyond its combustion rate.
"You... you're not exactly a 'hard science' kind of person, now.. are you?" I ask of Bella while tilting my head to face her in a more reluctant manner.
Bella: "No, I'm more of a practical, hands-on sort of person. I'm actually quite good at fixing things, and I'm pretty handy around the house. I'm very much a homebody, but I guess I could learn how to work a computer, if it would help us get back to our old lives. I'm sure I can figure it out."
I then turn back to the monitor, and I start typing away.
Bella: "What are you doing?"
"Fixing it. Um, you may wanna take some notes. That might help." I gesture to Bella the nearby pen and paper on the table in front of us both.
I continue to type and to talk to Bella at the same time, explaining the different parts of the software to her, and I make my own personal notes to go along with the lecture.
Bella: "So, what happens now?"
I look back at the screen, and I see the cursor blinking, and I respond: "Now, we wait."
Bella: "Wait? For what?"
I turn to look at her, and I point at the screen.
"Checkmate." I reply smoothly, and I smile.
Bella: "But, I didn't even try to move the pieces yet!"
"Don't worry, you could... hmm... I don't know... repeat after me?" I slyly consider with a complacent shrug to top it off.
Bella: "Oh, I don't know. I think I'll be able to fix it. I've got a knack for these kinds of problems. I mean, I have a lot of experience in solving this kind of thing. You know, with my husband and all. You're right. I am a natural problem solver."
"Oh, where are my manners- I'm Eric. Eric Rogers." I offer Bella my hand to shake, finally regaining composure in such a place.
Bella: "Bella Goth. Nice to meet ya!"
I have introduced myself to Bella. She shakes my hand, and she gives me an enthusiastic smile.
Bella: "Eric. Well, that's a nice name. And, uh, I hope everything works out okay!"
"Sure it will." I nod before I watch the monitor. The cursor is still flashing. It's waiting.
Bella: "I think it's going to. I think that's the first step. Now, let's get started on those other programs!"
I exhale once, then slide my chair back for Bella to take the lead this time: "After you."
After our work is done for the day, I take the elevator back up with the others at the main hall, whereby a bunch of people are sitting by cafeteria tables, eating their dinners by way of the kitchen stands made possible through the lounge.
I head on over to the stand, with a caterer's tray in hand, to see that blonde lady with the braided ponytail from back near the vault entrance cheerily waving me over.
"Hi there, handsome! How's it going?"
She takes the food and the drink, and she starts to put it on the table.
Her demeanor seems friendly enough, so I placate to her advances: "Fine- what's up for dinner?"
The girl smiles, and she says: "We've got a whole slew of different things to choose from. There's meatloaf, and there's a veggie burger. We also have a couple of salads, and we've got some soup and a few side dishes, too. Oh, and there's a dessert that's a little bit sweet, but really good. What would you like to eat?"
I look around the room, and I see that there are a bunch of other folks who are enjoying their meals, and they seem to be having a good time. Fervently so.
"I'll have a meatloaf, please." I order, noticing that her nametag spells: "Summer Holiday".
"A fruit salad, and..." I stammer. "What kind of soups you guys got?"
"Well, we've got tomato, chicken noodle, and mushroom. Those are the three choices."
"Mushroom soup it is. Also, your name's 'Summer Holiday'?" I ask of her, and she gives me a smile.
"That's right. Summer Holiday. You?"
I stare back down at my dinner tray, then look back up: "Eric. Eric Rogers. Wait- you serious?"
"Yeah. Why? Is it weird?" Summer asks me, with a curious look.
"Yeah. You don't see a 'Autumn Workweek' around here, now, do you?" I joke rather condescendingly.
"No. I guess not." She chuckles a little.
"You know what I mean."
"Oh- I get it. It just doesn't feel right." She explains to me.
"Right, I get it- I'm sorry." I apologize to Summer.
"It's alright." She shrugs it off. "So, Eric. Where are ya from?"
"Above ground." I answer honestly while pointing up towards the ceiling.
"Oh, wow."
"Yeah." I nod.
Summer then displays her Pip-boy to tell me the sum total price of my dinner: "Meatloaf, two pieces, one vegetable, and half an apple: Fruit salad, and one mushroom soup. That's $12.32, plus tax. Want to pay for it, or should I go ahead and add it to the bill?"
I bend over and pull out the cord from my Pip-boy, then ask of Summer nervously: "Do I stick it in yours for this transaction, or...?"
She laughs a little. Then she reaches for the cord in my hand, and she plugs the thing into the slot on the back of her wristwatch.
"Just say when, buddy!"
I give a quick glance to my Pip Boy, displaying the iconic Vault-Boy in neon shades of green as I flip the dial to move the cursor to accept, causing my bank account to be $12.32 looser than before.
"Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Have fun eating, y'know?"
"Sure thing, thank you." I reply abruptly as I try to find an empty seat.
There's a table near the wall that's free, and I sit down, and I start to dig into my meal. My eyes widen, and I think to myself, practically leaping with joy all by myself: "Wow! This is really good. I didn't expect something like this to come from a Vault-Diner. I can actually taste the meat. I've never had meatloaf that tastes so great."
I take a bite of the meatloaf, and I chew. Then I notice that there's some sort of sour, metallic flavor, and I wonder to myself: "Wait, is that...um, is that blood?"
I look down at the plate, and I see that there's some red stuff on the meatloaf. I swallow, and I continue chewing. Next, the fruit salad- half vegetable, half apple. I pick up the fruit salad and I begin to eat it. I also see some kind of liquid, and I realize it's soup, and I reach for the bowl of the soup. Whoa, whoa, whoa. What is this? It's so hot, and I've only been drinking it, and I'm already sweating. I look around the room, and I see other people who are enjoying their meals. There's even more of them, too.
That's when I see it. Bella Goth, surrounded by family by the dinner table, with a big smile across her cheeks, with a happy look on her face.
A son.
A daughter.
A husband.
And I feel such a deep sense of forlorn hope, I could die right now, just because I saw it.
This, right here- is what I want.
To live. To have a life, to love, to laugh, to cry, to smile, to experience everything I possibly can.
A life worth living.
I head back to my dorm room, alone. Once I close the door, I look around the room for a bit. Only to go ahead and take a shower soon afterwards. Afterwards, I lie back on my bed, my lower waist being covered by a white, moist towel.
I remove the Pip Boy from my arm, stretching it once I feel the slight weight difference. I play with it for a moment, checking for the cash amount that I currently own.
As of today, I currently own...
$7,947.01.
I grin, and I get up from my bed. I put my Pip-boy away, and I get dressed into my pyjamas as I grab them from the dresser. The pyjamas themselves are a simple pair of blue, long-sleeved, and long-legged, with a few buttons and zippers.
I walk out of my room, and I make my way towards the bathroom. I turn on the light, and I step towards the front of my sink. Is it just me, or is it getting draftier out there?
It's not that cold, but I don't know if I'd call it warm, either. I pull out a bottle of water, and I open it, and I start to drink. I then use the toilet, and I flush it. I wash my hands, and I dry them. I finish off the rest of the water, and I replace the cap on the bottle. Then I start to brush my teeth.
I stare at myself in the mirror, and I notice that there's a little bit of a smirk on my face.
"Yeah, yeah," I say to myself. "I'll do this. *sigh*
I will."
I exit the bathroom, and I find myself staring at the bed. I sit down, and then slowly lie back at exactly where I had initially left my mark.
Staring at the ceiling for so long really puts things into perspective. I reach for the Pip-Boy lying on my formerly packed luggage sack, tinkering with it even further to satiate my boredom, moreover my thirst for knowledge- just cause. I place the Pip-Boy to my ear, and I listen to it.
My ears perk up, and I hear it.
I'm listening to the radio.
I crank the dial up, and I hear it.
"?I don't want to set the world on fire ?"
"? I just want to start ?"
"? A flame in your heart?"
I soothe myself, gently placing the vibrating Pip Boy back on the ground.
"? In my heart I have but one desire ?"
" ?ᅡᅠ And that one is you ? "
" ? No other will do ?"
I close my eyes.
Time marches to a sudden crawl.
I feel my body growing heavy, and I feel my consciousness fading away.
I try to keep my eyes shut, and I attempt to hold my breath.
I hear the song, and I smile.
I am asleep.
The chime of the clock alerts me once more, and I quickly wake up.
I look around, and I take a deep, calming breath.
I glance over at the wall clock, eyes darting about as it ticks ever so constantly, like a heartbeat.
10:00.
I look around.
It's gotten a whole lot quieter around these parts.
I hear a few footsteps, and I turn my head.
I see a man walking through the hall, dressed in a black, long-sleeved shirt, with a white undershirt underneath, a pair of long, neatly ironed pants with no wrinkles in sight, and a pair of boots.
He has short, dark hair, and he's got a goatee.
His face is clean shaven.
I notice his arms, which are covered by nothing but black cloth.
I notice the gun on his hip, a Desert Eagle.
It was then, I had heard screaming.
I noticed the blood splattered all over the walls of the hallway, and I also noticed the bodies of a woman and a child laying dead.
I can't help but think of the people who were killed.
They must've been a family of sorts, I guess.
I then remember the voice of the man I saw, and I wonder what happened to him.
I then get a call from someone, telling me that I should return back to the room.
The rest is inaudible from here, the voices getting drowned out with heavy distortion, the sounds echoing and muffled.
My heart is pacing, my ears are ringing.
I'm covering my ears now.
That didn't help.
"ERICCCCCCCCCCCCCCC-"
That didn't help at all.
I yank myself off of the bedsheet, gasping heavily while panicking as I find myself back in my room.
Sitting still.
Cold shivers dripping down my spine.
I'm soaked.
Drenched, even.
I'm shaking.
Head hanging ever so still.
It takes me a while, but what I can finally confirm is this-
-that I've finally snapped back, into reality.
