June 6, 2283 - 11:51 am

The canyon path ended at a heavy metal gate between the two cliff sides. Officer Hector Fogarty was leading, and so he had the honor of unlatching and opening it. His strong arm shoved the gate away and our eyes were once again welcomed by sunlight. One by one after him, we stepped into a forest clearing, just as bright and green and beautiful as the canyon, except we could see more of that blue sky beyond.

Once we were all crowded again, the Overseer pushed his way to the front, in the direction that all of our Pip-Boys said was east, and silently declared that he would lead us. Everyone was talking. The parents were murmuring, the old folk were grumbling, and the children were all playing loudly together. Jessie was among them, less of a playmate and more of a moderator, since she was about twice as old as most of them. When little Grant Matheson decided to beat on Simon Helms, she was always there to break them up. It was something she was said to have got from her mother, whom I'd never met.

The path wound from the canyon up a hill and was perfectly sided by several varieties of trees. It was this path that the Overseer led us, and we willingly followed. All we could see was the endless green forest to our sides and the sky above us. It was not enough, and I felt it too. I wanted to see the world.

While we walked, I attempted to be silent, mostly for dramatic effect when we finally reached the top. But my mom was restless and she needed to say something to someone.

"See? Don't you see?" she directed at me. "This whole place is beautiful, not just the canyon! The Earth is fine… we'll be fine."

I stared at her while she shone her white teeth everywhere and at everything. Though her smile was contagious, I couldn't help but think that the perfection made everything seem too sterile. Maybe she shouldn't have taken Doctor Ambrose's experimental (yet very successful) tooth whitening treatment. She was one of only five who did, and the result was somewhat creepy. That aside, I smiled with her and told her "We haven't reached the top yet."

"Don't be such a pessimist, Dan," she scolded. "That's all you do, think the worst. You believed that you were going to fail your math exam last week, and you did great. You thought that the tooth care old Dr. A was doing would be a bust, but it came out perfect!"

Wow. Ironic.

We had almost climbed to the top of the hill and I could feel each person around me holding a bated breath. I couldn't help it either. Like my mom's smile, I just had to do it too. It was something everyone did in a situation like this. The Overseer was on the fringe of the slope's horizon, and he looked back at us anxiously. I knew that he was just as incredibly confused, yet excited as everyone else was.

I saw him reach the top. I saw him grind to a halt, almost reluctantly. And as each person reached that spot, I saw them do the same. Their faces were hidden from me; all of them were simply staring. Quickly, I ran up to the top to catch a glimpse of the world before it was blocked out by Vault 123 jumpsuits. I rounded the crest of the hill, and bravely faced what everyone was looking at, my eyes ablaze with curiosity. But I also stopped. And stared. Eventually, I cried.

We were on a mountain, that much was clear. The rocky face of it was what we were standing on, and it continued down a sheer vertical drop. From this high vantage point we could see everything around us, the trees having fallen back from the unfertile stone. Now, I wished that the sight had been blocked by all those jumpsuits. It wasn't pretty.

It was dead.

For miles around, all the way to the planet's horizon, I saw nothing but brown. Some grey too, but mostly brown. Bland, consistent, depressing; dead. It was nothing like the wonderful green canopies of what I would come to know as West Suffield Mountain. It was nothing like the colorful illustrations in all those books I'd read in my 14 years of Vault living. It was nothing like what I had pictured in my mind since the subject of leaving that bunker had come up in science class. It was pretty much nothing at all.

I suddenly felt alone. My mother's smile was gone, a teary scowl in it's place. Slowly, everyone around me turned and walked back down the hill. I didn't need to ask where they were going, the answer was obvious, and I would've gone with them had I not seen the Overseer. He had sat down on a boulder cross-legged, gazing with the eyes of a man thirty years older than him, and Anthony Krakaeur was still pretty old.

I forced myself to walk in his direction, to see why he hadn't followed suit with everyone else. When I stood next to him, he hadn't moved a muscle, and indeed stayed still for a couple minutes more. Finally, I mustered up a voluntary cough, and he turned to me with a startled expression. When he'd recognized me, he calmed down and kept staring.

"Jack and Kimberly's son, is it?" he asked nonchalantly. I just sat down, giving indication that the answer was yes. I couldn't really move for some reason, much less speak.

The Overseer nodded sadly and continued to gaze. I was about to leave when he grabbed my shoulder gently and pointed straight ahead. His finger landed on a place that seemed just as brown and lifeless as the rest of the landscape.

"Do you see that little black line cutting across right there?"

Now that I looked, an uneven slash of dark color shot from south to north, way off in the distance. I looked at the man and nodded my understanding. He swallowed and continued.

"That's supposed to be the Connecticut River," he pointed out. A river? Like water? I didn't think there was any out here. Before I could ask questions, he directed me to another location just west of the river.

"That there is an airport. Big flying planes would carry loads of people all over the world, wherever they wanted to go, as long as they could pay." It just looked like a grey dot next to a black scribbled line to me. But the Overseer seemed to know what he was talking about.

"South that way is a big city called Hartford." Indeed, there was a tower or two rising from a pile of rubble that way. Now he pointed in the opposite direction.

"North that way is a slightly smaller city called Springfield." It looked like a clone of Hartford, but closer. He kept showing me these landmarks that I had no idea of, but each one gave me a better feel for this weird world. Slowly, I made a map with my mind. I could see the Connecticut River flowing past the airport and Suffield Academy. Point Mountain joined with our mountain and continued into a territory called Massachusetts. Bridges in Windsor connected to roads in Enfield, which in turn led to Longmeadow and Springfield. With just this little bit of information, the world opened up. Boston was on an island far northeast and New York City was on another island to the south. I asked Mr. Krakauer if all cities were on islands and he chuckled a reply.

"Most people go where the water is. With water not only comes drink, but food and transportation. I don't know how it is now, but that's what I was told when I was a boy."
"Is this how you were told the world would be?" I pushed, but instantly regretted it. He stayed silent. That alone gave me the answer, but he still ventured to tell me:

"I was told of a wonderful world filled with many people and cultures. Basically, the same thing that you were told, only our teachers still insisted on following the rules of Vault-Tec, which limited the learning experience a bit."

At that, he simply stood up, took one last look at Connecticut, and stumbled down the hill. I had nothing else to do but follow, since even Jessie and my mother went on without me. Only a couple of elderly folk were still standing there, hugging each other, as if they'd really seen the world before and couldn't stand this new one. I felt like talking to them, but thought better of it, and jogged after Mr. Krakauer.

June 6, 2283 – 12:06 pm

"Hey, I found a body!"
Those words cut through me like a chainsaw as I entered the canyon, where all of my neighbors had gathered once again. I instantly ran to the voice, one Father Helms, the Vault chaplain, to make sure it wasn't anyone I knew. Jessie and my mom were still standing, thankfully, and the Overseer was right behind me. I didn't know the person. In fact, no one knew this skeleton that lay in a cave beside the Vault door. He was dressed as a priest and was surrounded by packages, bottles, and books.

Father Helms had a miserable look on his face, and knelt down to pray for whoever this soul happened to be. Officer Matheson knelt down too, but instead of praying he dug his hand into the dead man's shirt and ripped off a tag. After reading it to himself, he held it up to the audience and repeated aloud:

"Lois Robert Goddard. Born October 23, 2177 to Reynar and Leslie Goddard. Vault 123 Chaplain."

To this, Father Helms shot up like a rocket and snatched the tag from the Officer's grasp. He was so fast I barely noticed until the bit of plastic was in his hand.

"You will not defile the sacred body of the dead in that manner!" he shouted in the face of Paul Matheson, who cringed under the spittle that flew from the current Chaplain's mouth. This surprised me, as well as many people, I'm sure, for Paul was not a man who took orders, but gave them. He even less frequently looked scared. I imagine that it was quite a treat for some of the lesser officers who cringed in his presence on a daily basis, those officers who called him Sheriff.

"Father Goddard was the Vault Chaplain until about eighty years ago," Mr. Helms went on, facing away from Paul. "He was our previous Chaplain, Father Sander's, master. He also ran away from the Vault all those years ago, God alone knows how."

Realization dawned on the faces of just about everybody. Father Goddard made it out, but it seems that he didn't make it very far. The fact that he had managed to open the door was incredible, all those stories of previous attempts coming to mind right now.

We weren't sure what to do about this. Should we bury the body? Should we burn it for fear of disease? His living space was littered with stuff, perhaps we could salvage it?

Suddenly, the Overseer stepped ahead and picked up a small black box, about the size of a paperback book, and proceeded to press a button on it after whispering to the Father. Only then did I realize that it was an audio recorder. Crackling emanated from the thing before a weak and wheezing voice started to speak:

"Tonight is my 100th birthday… I cannot believe I lasted this long – it is obviously God's will. Since I was but twenty-eight, I watched this place grow from a dirty, unlivable wasteland into a clean, beautiful Garden of Eden. That was also God's will. He called me out here, allowed me to see this place, and told me to grow his sacred garden once again. Happily, I obliged. So now, I sit here alone. Without a friend nor wife nor heir to my family name. sigh Sometimes… sometimes I wish I never took those GECKS and left my family. Sometimes I wish I just stayed there."

Then the whining sound of the empty space in the device took over, and the Overseer shut it off. We all stood there, silent. Father Helms had his head bowed and was whispering something inaudible. Now the picture was coming into focus. We all realized what this was, but no one had the guts to say anything after that. Of course, childhood ignorance broke the mold. Five-year old Margaret Granger piped up a curious little question… one everyone was dying to ask.

"Can we go home now?"