"This is the final intact memory," Dr. Amari's voice drifted into Deacon's consciousness as he teetered over the neuron bridge toward Kellogg, who stood before a desk. An old man sat behind it, the bags under his eyes sagging with the bruised look that sometimes came with a terminal illness.
"Sit down," the elderly man said, his tone of voice making it sound more like a command than an invitation.
"I prefer to stand," Kellogg leaned against the wall, pulled out a cigar, and lit it.
"I would prefer that you sat—and that you did not smoke those foul weeds in here," the man glared at him.
"What do you care? You're dying anyway." Kellogg took a deep drag on his stogie and let the smoke out slowly.
"While if not for the Institute, you would be long dead by now. It smells nauseating. Put it out."
"Put on the air filtration system, boy. I was part of the Institute long before I pulled your baby ass out of a freezer, and I'll be here long after you're gone." Kellogg responded.
The last intact memory had been about taking an infant from a cryogenic pod and murdering his parents. This was the baby, all grown up? He had to look deeper into this.
When Deacon touched the grizzled, scarred old mercenary, the man rasped, 'It was hard to believe that sixty years had gone by since the day I killed that baby's parents. Harder still to believe that baby was now the old man sitting behind that desk. Father, the Director of the Institute. It was him, though. I'd never managed to drum up the proper respect for him—maybe because I'd had to change his diapers a couple of times on the way to the Institute. The woman scientist they sent along had never cared for a baby.
'I was surprised they hadn't killed him with their experimentations, but they hadn't. He was 'Purity Control', an uncontaminated genetic specimen, and too valuable to waste. So he was raised in what amounted to isolation, away from other kids for the first fifteen years of his life. As a result, he developed what would have been an exaggerated view of his own importance, except that he turned out to be a genius. The only thing was, he was just as isolated now as he was back then-never married, no kids, no friends. Not that I cared, but sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I'd took more of an interest in him.'
Father pushed two documents over his desk in Kellogg's direction. One was a copy of 'Publick Occurances', the a 'newspaper' from Diamond City, and the other was something else, a booklet with a large yellow flower on the cover. Deacon recognized it as one of Raina's seed catalogs.
The two men bantered back and forth about the documents. This, then, was what the Institute knew about Raina.
"My linguistics expert believes this was written by someone with an IQ well within the range of what is considered genius."
"And you want them because…?." Kellogg asked.
"Because I am dying. Because there is no one within this facility with the vision or the capacity to lead it once I am gone. Because the departments are fractious, and will push their own agendas without looking at the bigger picture. I read this, and as I read it, I can see glimpse the mind of the one who wrote it. This is my successor. Or will be, if they can be found before they're corrupted."
'The old man might think he meant to bring this new outsider in from the Wasteland, but I didn't believe it. Not for a second. Maybe he was going senile or the cancer had spread to his brain. The Institute I knew wasn't so nice. If his 'successor' didn't cooperate damn quick, they'd be stuck in a cell until all their secrets were wrung out of them, and then they'd be disposed of in the reactor. If they were lucky, they'd be dead first.'
Kellogg stubbed his cigar out against the wall. "All right, old man. I'll find them. Any idea of where to look?"
"In the booklet, it invites potential buyers to visit the settlement of Sanctuary where they are actively growing these plants. That would be a place to start." Father steepled his fingers, watching Kellogg.
"I'm gone." Kellogg left the room. X6-88 was waiting outside, sleek and deadly looking with those mirrored shades and his Courser's garb. 'The new breed of synths could pass as human. Some of them did. But the Coursers weren't built to blend in. They were killing machines, pure and simple. Smarter, stronger and faster than almost any real human. I'm just glad they were always on my side.'
The synth hunter spoke. "Mr. Kellogg, I am to accompany you in your search for Doctor Brian Virgil, who has left the Institute. Our intelligence suggests he has taken refuge in the Glowing Sea."
"Talk to Father," Kellogg said, "Find out which mission has priority. Either way, I'm heading to the teleporter."
"That seems to be the end," Amari's kind voice came over the scene. "Teleportation! If only the memory had shown us a little more. It would explain everything-why we haven't been able to find the Institute. If they teleport in and out, there would be no door to find. Hang on, I'm bringing you out."
There was always a disconnect between the physical body and the 'mental' body when someone used a Memory Lounger, just as there was when they dreamed. When the Lounger lid opened and cold air poured in, Deacon was surprised to find he was dripping wet with sweat and shuddering.
"Here," Dr. Amari pressed a Nuka-Cola into his hand. "Drink this. The sugar and caffeine will help. How do you feel?"
"Like I've been through the wringer," he replied. "Kellogg was...really not a nice person. At all. In any way. But...he was a human being." He drank the soda, pausing to say, "When you see yourself in somebody like that...it makes you think about what kind of person you are. You know?"
"Yes. But what we have learned is invaluable. Do you know what you will do next?" the doctor asked.
"Report in, then...head off to the Glowing Sea. This Virgil they're looking for, he has to know more than Kellogg did. Kellogg was just a triggerman. Virgil was a scientist." Deacon then realized that someone who should have been in the room, wasn't. "Where's Nick?"
"I brought him out first. He's waiting for you upstairs." Amari gestured.
"Good. He's radiation-proof. I want to talk to him about going to the Glowing Sea."
The detective was sitting on a sofa by the exit, and at Deacon's greeting he looked up, and said, in Kellogg's voice, "So. Did you get what you wanted out of my head?"
"Nick? Are you, uh, feeling okay?"
"Uhhh-what? Why are you asking?" Nick asked, in his own voice and manner.
"You sounded like Kellogg for a second there."
"Oh. Amari said that might happen. Mnemonic resonances, she called it. Yeah, I'm fine. All diagnostics are normal. Can't say the same for you-you look shook up. What do ya say we hit the Third Rail? First round's on me."
Deacon looked better after a pick-me-up, and started a conversation with an acquaintance from the neighborhood as Nick knocked back a shot of coolant. On the edge of the synth's peripherals, he saw Hancock coming down the stairs, alone. The Mayor of Goodneighbor wore a thoughtful expression in addition to his signature tricorn hat and antique suit. When they made eye contact, Hancock made his way through the crowd and sat down on the next bar stool.
"Don't worry, Raina's in her room at the Rexford, with King on guard," was the first thing out of the Lucid's mouth. "Charlie, a shot of something neat and nasty, willya?"
"Fair enough. How did the meeting go?" Nick asked. He looked Hancock over, assessing just how bright his eyes were, the slightly careful way he took the shot of liquor, and judged him to be loosened up, and probably in a talkative mood. The Mayor had a very high tolerance for intoxicants of all kinds, and what would floor Raina would hardly make Hancock unsteady.
"Great. We're gonna get set up to grow weed here, worked out all the details, and everybody's happy. Thanks, Charlie. Hey, what if you see what our friend in the backroom will have, and put that little proposition I mentioned to him. Can't set up shop until after we've cleaned house," he explained to Nick. "There are some...undesirables in the warehouses right now, and they didn't move along when I asked nicely, so-."
"This friend in the back-that wouldn't be Maccready, would it?" Nick asked.
"Hey, don't be so hard on the kid," Daisy said, swooping down on them from the other side. "I know he was a Gunner, but he isn't that bad, really. He made a mistake when he joined them, yes. He got out as soon as he could and he's still paying for it, in a lot of ways. Give him credit for that."
"Hmph." Nick snorted. "I'd like to know why he was dumb enough to sign on anyway."
"They don't give everybody a choice about it, you know. They go to settlements and conscript whoever they please," Daisy pointed out.
"And within a few weeks, those same conscripts are just as vicious and violent as the rest of the Gunners," he rebutted.
"Because otherwise they get dead. Anyway, he had reasons," the Lucid shopkeeper told them.
Nick turned to Hancock. "You're being awful quiet. What's wrong?"
"Nothin'. Uh-Lemme ask ya somethin, though. What's the deal with you and Raina? The vibe I'm gettin' off of ya is that you're stuck together with Wonderglue." Hancock was trying to be casual, and he nearly succeeded, but there was a desperate seriousness in his eyes, Nick thought.
"The deal? I'm trying to keep her alive and well despite everything. I thought you knew that already." Nick leaned back and watched Hancock's face. He was enjoying himself a great deal. He'd known Hancock back twenty-odd years ago, when he was Johnny McDonough, a bright kid who was a little too bright for his own good. Definitely too bright for school to keep him interested, which was why Johnny had gone looking for more interesting things to do, like Jet.
Yet despite the chems and the strutting attitude, underneath John McDonough was a good kid. Not a perfect one, but if some Upper Stands kid was taunting a Field kid, or a bigger one bullying little ones, John McDonough would be the first one there to snarl, "Why don'cha pick on someone yer own size?" and back that up with fists, slingshots, whatever he could swing into action with. Plus at least once he'd split his lunch with somebody who came to school empty handed and empty bellied.
Whether you called him John McDonough or John Hancock, in the ways that mattered most, he hadn't changed a bit.
There were a lot worse people Raina could choose.
"Yeah, yeah. I got that. That was weeks ago, though. You wouldn't still be hanging around if there wasn't something more goin' on." Hancock said.
"You're going to have to spell it out for me. I don't know exactly what it is you're getting at," Nick said, innocently.
"Aw, fuck it. Do ya-do you love her?" Hancock asked. Unless it was the synth's imagination, the Mayor looked kind of pale and strained.
"Love her?" Nick took a moment. "There's a lot there to love her for. The truth is, I've never had a closer relationship with anyone. If I don't love her, then I don't know any other name to call how I feel. But-," he paused as Hancock took in a deep, shuddering breath. "Think about how I act toward her. Is there anything lover-like in it?"
"Well-no. You act like you're her dad or something."
"Got it in one try. Raina's father died before she was born, and even Gen 3s come off the assembly lines sterile, so any family I might have is gonna have to be through adoption. It wasn't like it was planned. That's just how it played out."
"Okay, yeah, I get it now. Hmm." The Mayor rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, damn if that doesn't make things even more uncomfortable."
"Why?" Nick sat up straight, suddenly suspicious. "What happened?" Beside him, Daisy was watching with amused eyes, not missing a thing.
"Uh-First off, nothing much. Honest. However, I think she's gonna have a hangover in the morning, so be ready for that. She- wanted to fool around, but since she was drunk and we'd been trying out the samples she brought-. It wouldn't have been right. Lotta bad decisions can get made when you're bombed like that. I should know. "
Nick raised a hand, waving off any more revelations. "Um. You're right, this is awkward. So what did happen?"
"We made out a little, then I walked her back to the hotel an' said goodnight." Hancock downed his drink and gave Nick a clear, truthful glance. "That's all it amounted to."
Nick sighed. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since I was there when you first met. Not sure if that was exactly love at first sight, but it was definitely something. She's attractive. Somebody was bound to notice, sooner or later. I'm not crazy about all your chem use, but I've never seen you so messed up you couldn't do what had to be done. And at least you're not a war-headed bigot who stomps around in a tin can all the time."
"Somebody specific you got in mind?" Hancock asked.
"Yeah. A Paladin from the Brotherhood of Steel. Aah, I shouldn't badmouth him behind his back. He has his good points." Nick finished his coolant in a couple of gulps. "Ultimately, though, it's up to Raina, not me. I dunno how this is going to work with everything else we have going, though. Ain't like you can just hop in a car and be somewhere in minutes."
"Actually, I was gonna ask you if you could use a third gun on your walkabout. I'm gettin' too comfortable here. I need to get out of town now and then, sharpen up the ol' killer instincts," Hancock's hands dove into his pockets and came up with a canister of Jet. He shook it, lifted it up to his lips-then tucked it back in the pocket where he'd found it, murmuring that he didn't want to ruin the buzz he already had going.
"One rule if you do. No stopping for chem breaks unless it's safe in a settlement somewhere. I don't mind taking the night watch, but I draw the line at standing guard while you're tripping out," Nick told him. "If Raina agrees, that is. But-why did you say 'was' like that? Change your mind?"
"No. But-," the Mayor paused.
"But what?" Nick complained. "You can't start a statement like that and not finish it."
"It's-look. It only works between two people if they're in it just as deep, ya feel me? Whether it's just havin' fun or in it for keeps. Otherwise somebody winds up getting burned. She ain't that much younger than me in years, but in terms of worldly experience, I got a head start on her by a couple centuries."
I wouldn't be so sure about that, Nick thought, remembering the legacy of experience Raina had inherited through the 'sisters' who had come before, but of course, that wasn't the sort of worldly knowledge Hancock meant. The Mayor was about thirty, if Nick recalled correctly.
"Then maybe you ought to try getting to know each other better first," Nick suggested. "It's not as if you're required to pursue a romance just because you're along. Tell you what. What if you wait to make the decision to join us until after we come back with the seeds and plants?"
"Yeah, that could work," Hancock thought about it and nodded. "Gotta get it set up and running first. Hey!" The last word was to someone across the bar, and Hancock excused himself to join the other group.
At Nick's elbow, he heard Daisy laugh softly. "Yeah, right. That kid's got it bad. And he think's he's being so cool about it, too."
"You don't need to be a detective to spot that, but it helps," Nick said.