A/N: The age of the extant Garys is an issue not canonically addressed, but consider – the Vault experiments were started when the Vaults were first entered and closed at the time of the war some 200 years ago. There are no old Garys and there are no numbers 30 or higher in Vault 108 if you enter it in the game. There is no way for the Garys to reproduce other than possibly recloning each other, although given their apparent impairments that seems unlikely through generations. It's an interesting if probably unintentional implication on the part of BethSoft.

11

"The experiment in Vault 87 was supposed to involve multiple clones of one individual," said Fawkes. "I believe the intent was to offer an alternative model of social interaction. The abstract I read suggested this person be chosen based on the stability of their genetic code. It also suggested they be female so that the effect of cloning on the mitochondrial DNA could be studied." He looked at Three. "It appears the experiment wasn't carried out as planned."

Three snorted. "Gary," he said dryly.

"Exactly," said Fawkes. "I don't suppose you know the surname of that original subject?" Three shook his head. I was on my fifth stimpak now. It was probably going to be the last, since the hole in Fawkes's shoulder was almost closed up. That left me with four. Good thing I'd bought so many to start with. Be an even better thing if I hadn't shot him.

"A subset of the experiment was supposed to involve cloning one or more of the clones," said Fawkes. "I'm afraid the abstract was quite clear on the purpose of this. Vault-Tec's scientists wished to know if creating a copy of a copy would produce imperfect results."

Three stared at him. Then his shoulders shook with harsh and silent laughter. His face twisted up until it was horrible to look at, a demon's grimace.

"Three," I said. I didn't know how he'd react if I touched him. "Three, stop it." The sound of my voice seemed to reach him. He shook himself and looked at Fawkes, then back at me.

"Gary," said Three hoarsely. His eyes were blue and very, very cold.

"You knew?" I said. Three held up one finger. Then two. Then three. "Yeah. You were third." I thought about that, and about his reaction. "You were a copy of Gary 2, weren't you. Not of the original Gary." It wasn't really a question. The answer was obvious. There were no hairless scars on his scalp to suggest a head injury that would steal his ability to speak. He'd probably been born the way he was. "How many were there, total?" I asked.

He looked at me for a moment, evidently trying to figure out how to convey the number. So more than ten. "More than twenty?" I asked.

Three nodded.

"Thirty?" He shrugged. One hand waggled back and forth in a maybe-so-maybe-no gesture. He held up one open hand, four fingers, and then smacked it with the closed fist of his other hand.

"I don't understand," I said.

"I do," said Fawkes unexpectedly. Three turned to look at him. "The abstract was worded," he apparently searched for a term, or tried to fit a super mutant's tongue around it. "Circuitously. But it was clear what was to be done with clones who were obviously damaged at birth or after five years of the teaching program. I believe he's trying to convey that Gary 4 was another secondary copy and was terminated. Is that correct?" Gary raised his eyebrows as he nodded. I reminded myself that, being who he was, he might never even have heard of Fawkes and the Vault Dweller, might not even have run into a regular super mutant.

"But they didn't kill you," I said. "Did you used to be able to talk?"

Three shook his head. He looked at Fawkes again, already betting on his ability to guess the answer over mine. (Fawkes says this is not a fair statement, as he had access to information which I did not. It seems to me that what information you have and how you use it is a good chunk of what it means to be smart or dumb, but Fawkes says that is a lengthy debate for another time.)

"He would have been retained as a control group," said Fawkes, and Three nodded vigorously.

"It wasn't a Vault-Tec egghead that taught you how to move like you do," I asid. "Not if they were holding you prisoner and killing your brothers. They'd have known better." Three looked at me patiently while I thought. He seemed calmer now, able to discuss it (or whatever) more rationally. "But then, I can't imagine they planned to keep more than 20 clones around, either. In a Vault around 10 would be comfortable, if there had to be scientists and techies there to keep an eye on them all the time. Am I right, Fawkes?"

"To the best of my knowledge, yes," Fawkes said.

"So the experiment got away from them," I said. "Which I guess should be obvious, given that 108 is full of nothing but Scary Garys right now. Which means the scientists are all gone or they're dead. They'd be dead anyway. The Vaults were sealed back when the War started. But that would mean..." I looked at Three. "How old are you?"

Three looked at me. He looked at Fawkes. He held up one finger. Nine fingers. Five fingers.

"A hundred and ninety-five years is very old, for a human," said Fawkes. "And if what I have read is correct, it was once true that clones were born with the same Hayflick Limit as the donor from whom they were cloned."

"Run that by me in English?" I said. "Or even Spanish. I don't speak scientista."

"The clone might be an infant," said Fawkes. "But each cell in his body would believe it was as old as the donor. The chromosomes would grow short quickly. He would die young." Fawkes's shoulder was completely healed now, but he stayed there on one knee, I guess because it was easier to continue the conversation that way. "Meta-Humans have modifications that allow our chromosomes to regenerate their length with little long-term damage. Thus, we do not age in the same way as ordinary humans. Something like this must have been done to the clones."

"And then they started cloning themselves?" I said. "And they managed to keep the Hayflick Limit thing, but couldn't prevent the speech impediment – am I right, Three?"

He made the maybe-so gesture again. He poked a thumb at his chest and shook his head. Then he showed two fingers again.

"You didn't clone yourself, but Gary 2 did?" I guessed. Gary smiled slightly, maybe a little sadly. I was on a roll, so I kept guessing. "And he just kept on. So then there were a whole bunch of Garys who were born hating anybody who wasn't a clone and couldn't communicate with anybody well enough to learn different. Right? That's why they try to kill anybody who wanders in there."

That earned me a firm nod.

"You must be brave as Hell, then," I said. "To have left after all this time when you can't hardly talk."

Gary bit his lip. "Gaa," he said. "GyaaaI can," he said, and stopped. I watched him mouth Gary a couple more times before he managed to spit out, "A little."

"Seems about like pulling teeth," I said. Three nodded. "And it doesn't get better with practice?"

He shrugged. "Thistle," he said, and only clenched his teeth a little bit.

"We will have to see that you have opportunity to practice," said Fawkes. He got slowly to his feet, rolling his newly-healed shoulder carefully.

"We?" I said. "Fawkes, I'd love to have you along. But I've got to go to Underworld. I owe Tulip an explanation for what happened to the package she's expecting."

"That is not a problem," said Fawkes.

"Somebody might hassle you," I said. "Like that hag outside Megaton. I don't want to see you get spat on again."

Three looked between us like he didn't quite believe what he was hearing. I'd only known him a few days but I was very damn sure what would happen to someone who spit on Three. He wouldn't even think about it; it would be next door to a reflex. He probably couldn't figure somebody who would just stand there. But then, he didn't know Fawkes yet.

"To refuse a burden rightfully yours is cowardice," Fawkes said. "You know this is true, or you would not be returning to explain your failure."

"You lost me with that one," I said.

"I doubt it," said Fawkes.