Jim waited three hours in front of the robotics lab to get any news about the Overseer. When a technician finally came out he was told the synth was in stable condition, but it's currently in a deep sleep and they don't know how to wake it. The young man let himself fall back on the bench that was right outside the lab. He felt completely hopeless. If only there was something he could do... But there wasn't. Jim was never the smart type. He never understood math or the need for it, but he was good at following orders and he had a kind, carrying heart, always helping others. As he raises his head, lost in his thoughts, the young security guard sees chief Frosst looking down on him.

"May I?" Frosst inquires, pointing at the bench.

"Sure," Jim nods.

"How is she?"

"Not good," Jim answers. "Well, she's stable, they said. But they can't wake her up. What are we going to do?"

Frosst looked at Jim. He was exhausted, worried out of his mind.

"I'm going to get a coffee from the vending machine. Would you like me to bring you anything?" Frosst asked.

"A Nuka, please. Thanks."

Frosst gets up and goes away, leaving the young security guard alone with his thoughts. Thousands of thoughts flashed through his mind. Why is this happening again? What can I do? Why does she always have to get hurt for me to realize how much I care about her?

His train of thoughts was interrupted by whispers in the background. Jim raises his head and sees people approaching. Lots of them. The young security guard instinctively reaches for his pistol, but quickly notices that the vault dwellers were advancing slowly, in a nonthreatening manner, and that they didn't carry any guns. They all looked gloomy, visibly distressed.

Wait... Are all these people here for the Overseer? Jim thought to himself. Is this really happening?

Jim pinched himself on the right arm, just to be sure. A rough man in a leather jacket, looking like a gang member, came closer. Jim twitched a little.

"Hey man, how is she feeling?" the man asks.

"Is she going to be alright?" another voice raises in the background.

Then another and another until Jim was so overwhelmed by the sudden attention that he raises both of his hands over his ears and crawls in a fetal position on the bench.

"What's the meaning of this?!" chief Frosst yells from around the corner. The crowd went silent.

"We just want to know if the Overseer is OK," an elderly woman spoke.

"She's... resting. She'll be alright, but it will take some time."

"Well... who will run the Vault? While she's resting I mean," another man inquires.

"I will," Frosst speaks up. "She assigned me to handle Vault business in case of emergencies. If you'd like to wait for news, please stay near the walls to keep this hallway clear... Please."

The crowd dispersed and cleared the corridor. Some people left, but lots of them stayed. They were clearly worried about their Overseer. Chief Frosst finished his coffee and prepares to leave.

"I'll come by later," he gently pats Jim on the shoulder. "Right now, I've got a Vault to run."

"Good luck with that," Jim forces himself to smile and waves as Frosst was moving away.

At 7 pm Jim went to take a shower and eat something. The night shifts started, so most people that came by this afternoon to check on the Overseer left too. Jim came back an hour later, and now was once again pacing back and forth in front of the robotics lab. The bulk door opened and chief Frosst came out to greet him.

"Any changes?" Jim asks.

"No," Frosst replies avoiding his eyes. He seemed hesitant for a few seconds, but finally asks, "Would you like to see her?"

"Yes, please," the young security guard nods, mentally thanking his superior. "I won't stay long."

"Feel free to stay as long as you like. There's nothing more they can do anyway."

Chief Frost stopped, realizing he shouldn't have said that. "If you need me, I'll be in my offi- Her office."

The young man enters the room cautiously and approaches the Overseer's pod. She was sitting upright in her special auto-doc. Her face was completely repaired, as well as the rest of her body. Everything looked normal, she looked like she was charging. Except... she won't wake up.

"Synthia..." the young man whispered. He quickly looks around the room to make sure no one was there, and then gently touches the synth's left cheek and moves its hair away from the face. In the end, love is just a chemical reaction in the brain, Jim remembered. Under the right conditions, love occurs no matter who the other person is. It's what the Vault's shrink told him while they were having a 'hypothetical' discussion on whether a human being could ever fall in love with a synth or not.

"Please wake up..." Jim whispers and hugs the synth. He was starting to tear up, so he decided it's best to leave the room before anyone comes back and complicates things.

It's the second day, 7 am. Night shifts are over and new people are replacing those who are now going home to their families. Chief Frosst is still at his post, in the Overseer's office. He took naps here and there whenever he could, while dealing with a myriad of problems the entire night. Are these people never sleeping? What the hell? Frosst screamed inside.

The Vault felt more alive than ever and the chief was quickly overwhelmed by everything that was happening. He remembered what the Overseer once told him about the Vault being like a giant, well-oiled machine. Everyone does their part, but it was the Overseer's job to make the machine work properly. The parts of the machine can't do whatever they want; they have to fall in line at all times. It was the toughest job in the Vault and, right now, Frosst didn't find any pleasure in trying to control the machine. Everything is chaotic, he thought.

What was even more surprising to him is that people were okay following a machine, a robot. Well, most of them anyway. So I guess, without the assurance of food and shelter, unless you're prepared to die in the wasteland, there's no other way but to come down here and work, Frost thought to himself. No matter how depressed you are or how much you hate your job, you have to return to your routine, daily life in the Vault. Up there you'll only end up dying in vain, a dramatic death that isn't benefiting anyone. Down here at least we have a chance at life. For better or worse, we're all in this together. For the Overseer...

Someone ringed the doorbell and pulled Frosst out of his thoughts. Before the chief could answer, the Overseer's young assistant rushes into the office.

"We've got riots in sector 15! People are unhappy about the water rations. Again..."

The young man sighs and waits patiently for an order from his superior.

"But it's seven in the morning for crying out loud! Dispatch security," Frosst finally says. "Tell them not to use weapons, only their batons."

The assistant bows and leaves the office as quickly as he came in. Frosst couldn't help but wonder how the Overseer was keeping all of this in check. Reports were coming in from literally everywhere, all night long. A Vault of 40,000 souls it's impossible to handle by a human being, Frosst thought to himself. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. You'd better get well soon, madam Overseer, or I'm going to lose it.

Chief Frosst frowned and looked at the monitor in front of him, trying to focus his thoughts on the next report: flood in sector 34. This day wasn't going to get any easier...