A/N: Phew! Hello, readers! I'm glad of getting this chapter out just in time, when I know I'll be playing Mothership Zeta; the 5th and final DLC for Fallout 3. Hats off to Bethesda for that. I'll try to get another chapter before college resumes again and updates will be infrequent, maybe sparse.
Well... there's no reviews but I'd like to extend a thanks to york for fav'ing and alerting.
Disclaimer: All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course for mine and other characters that are featured in this story. I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review.
I am also open to anything that you, the reader, want to see in this story, just ask. Just PM me or leave it in your review.
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" –Arthur C. Clarke
Chapter 11: WIFS
I stopped for a moment to solemnly look out over the wide, putrid banks of the Charles. The dry, dusty wind wafted its awful smell to me, that unmistakable smell of hundreds of decomposing organisms taking their sweet time at the bottom of the river. I noticed the sun's ominous red tint on the wasteland, which didn't seem too reassuring 'cause… Well, it certainly wasn't there to make my day any better.
Megan was still trying to recover the best she could without me under Walt's watchful eye. He said he didn't mind but I was still hesitant. I guess my obvious desperation showed. I hated being desperate but it was inevitable; no food, no water, and not a whole lot of stimpacks and ammo. I knew we had to gather more supplies, but one person was shot and guess whose turn was it to find it? That's right, me. I'd think there would be more in the way of available food options, but they were either boarded up, collapsed in on themselves, their food was ridiculously rotten, or were occupied by ingrate wasteland squats that were better off roasting themselves to death. Unbelievable.
I had to cross that river, unfortunately. That river was so vile it ate away at just about anything it touched. I definitely didn't want to fall in there. If it could eat away so much at the rickety stone bridge I crossed on, my body parts would be toast the moment it hit the sloshing water. I did my best trying to tread lightly, knowing that I'd have to use this stupid bridge going back.
The dosimeter perked up on my PIP-BOY. Yeah, this river was radioactive as well, no surprise there. I'd imagine the bridge not high enough for me to cross radiation free. Radiation is such a bitch, it'd be much easier without this radiation this and radioactive that crap going all around. I'll probably have a headache the next morning; just one of many inconveniences.
What was that expression again, ah… screw it, I knew I'd be wasting my brainpower trying to figure out what wise old geezer said some wise-ass words long ago.
My stomach growled again. Oh jeez, I could go for something good, like a Nuka-cola, cram, or that stupid victory food if it came down to it. The low rumbling of shells exploding off in the distance didn't help, reminding me of more of my failures and my hunger. I continued on, before I saw something scurry across the barren wasteland plains.
I couldn't believe my eyes, at first. Was it crab? Hell yeah, I could go for delicious, mutated crab! I followed it to an open field where it stopped; gathering what scant wasteland grass there was with its large claw.
"草! 草! 草!" It chirped cheerfully.
Holy crap! Did it just talk? I mean… yeah, it could talk, but I needed it for food, not entertainment. I snuck up behind it, raised my foot up, expecting to kick this sucker down for an easy meal. Instead of my foot turning crab into crab meal though, it stomped on… metal? I looked at it again and in desperation, I went into VATS and shot it with my pistol, anything to kill it sooner.
Imagine my amazement when it moved around almost unscathed from that shot. My PIP-BOY flashed in excitement… what the hell now? This better be something important.
SPECIES, Hexie detected…
Descendants of the Chinese mitten crab (Eriocheir sinensis), which was introduced to N. America in the late 20th/early 21st century, their shells are equivalent between Type IIA and Type II body armor, which can defeat most 9mm up to .357 Magnum rounds. While usually found industrious and solitary, they are known to group to thwart off attackers when they feel threatened… (citation: Overseer's Notes)
Thanks a lot, I have no idea what that means but I could've learned that much sooner, stupid. It swung its giant claw aggressively, hitting me in the arm. After I backed off, it pounded its claw on the ground, attracting more of those creatures to me. More of them came over the hill, waving their claws and charging at me. Seeing that I didn't possibly have enough ammo to kill those stupid crabs, I ran to get as far away to these things as possible.
I soon ducked into a run-down Dunkin' Donuts store and hid behind the counter. The crabs scurried right on past me; thankfully, they're not too keen on sensing the heavy panting coming out of my mouth.
So this was a donut store? I looked up at the menu teetering above me. Why the hell were those stupid things called "bagels", "cross-saints", or "bursh-cutta sandwiches" even up there? It was a freaking place I'd imagine you had an honest hot, sweet, and fresh doughnut. Maybe a coffee to go along with it, but still! Who walks into a donut shop and asks for a sandwich? I know I don't. Pre-war people had some weird shit to go along with their donuts. Even still, I had my hopes up that this screwed up donut joint that catered to an equally screwed up population had a bit of still good meager dough. I combed through the abandoned racks, the cabinets with their hinges rusted off, anything to make up for that disaster of taking on the local river crab population.
I went into the collapsed back rooms, sweeping them out with my pistol. The only thing I found was a small jar of honey. I opened it and saw white crystals on the top of honey. It couldn't be that bad to eat. I took a small piece of it; it didn't taste too bad, it was good enough. I slipped the honey in my pocket and walked casually out of the Dunkin' Donuts shop. Mission complete, I imagined.
However, shortly after I walked out of that shop, I ran into those disgusting crabs again. They didn't charge at me immediately, instead they were staring intently at me. What could they be after? Was it the honey or was it me? I shot at one of them, with the bullet bouncing off their shell shortly afterward with a loud clinking sound. Oh yeah, I forgot they could resist whatever I shot at them.
I ran again, winding through the rotten and dried up husks that were once trees. Stupid crabs! I wanted to shoot at them so much but what I was armed with now were useless against them. I'd just be wasting ammo even if I did hit them.
Feeling my legs wanting to give up on me, I ran into a nearby concrete building and bolted the steel doors as best I could with a few pieces of junk lying around. Hearing the crabs trying to ram themselves in the door, I casually walked up the ruined steps. I figured crabs can't jump their way up steps even if they used their claws, no matter how bulletproof their claws or shells were.
I wasn't in the mood for clearing out the entire second floor of this place so I just sat down against the crumbling beige wall and took a breather. There was no way I was going to make it back across the Charles River without doing something extremely stupid again. I sighed, trying to recollect my thoughts for the day. How long was it? 8 days? I thought we would be merrily going the Red Line by this point, hoping to be found by a much friendlier and sociable Institute. I wondered what the Vault's like after our little festive escape but I couldn't go back, it was just stupid to go back. I couldn't bring myself to pound on the door and say "Hey! We were so fucking stupid. You were right, let us back in, oh wise and noble overseer!" It was nauseating just thinking about it.
But there was nothing to do except wait, alone. No one to call, no one to talk to… well, if someone managed to ever get in without those crabs beating them to death, I'd shoot them and maybe have a firefight in the hallway for shits and giggles. Most of my thinking was geared on survival. That was just the daily grind, survival. Fun never really crossed my mind, wait… maybe it did once but my sense of fun has probably dulled since I left the Vault.
It suddenly got dark; I'm assuming the last of the sun's rays disappeared. I turned on my PIP-BOY light, combing the area for a good place to sleep overnight. There was no way I was going back out, wandering with a light that screamed, "HEY!!! I'M HERE AND I DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT THE WASTELAND!!! PLEASE PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY!" I was going to advertise my death to raiders doing that.
I looked around the darkened place some more, trying to find a spot that wouldn't result in my death by sleeping on it. Walking around this place gave me the impression that this used to be a TV studio before the war happened; the terminals that worked properly seemed to agree with me. Too bad this place wasn't a fucking motel; that would have made my day a hell of a lot easier. I stumbled into a room that looked like it was used for relaxation. Its tables were strewn randomly, who knows what happened to the chairs. There was nothing that looked comfortable in this building, I was defeated until…
Simulation Pods
Huh, simulation pods? Are they? I've heard from that pre-war crap that they could be used for just about anything. Relaxation, entertainment, pain, pleasure, lust… I've heard people sometimes spend their whole lives in their virtual reality without ever getting up. Pre-war people got addicted to this stuff; I've heard it was scary, being addicted to a virtual reality.
I was even more surprised when it suddenly opened, its mushy, paled burgundy chair beckoning me to sit in and spend the night in its journey. I surrendered to its call. I sat back and relaxed as my vision faded to black. I felt a sharp jolt on the back of my neck, but I didn't squirm. It was as if something felt right, as if my existence was transferred to another universe.
What if... ah, fuck it. I'll just let the computer decide.
When I opened my eyes, I stood in an illuminated black box. That was it, what it was like to cross into a virtual world of entertainment, where anything could happen, albeit within a controlled environment. A yellow message started scrolling on the screen.
CAUTION! THE FCC AND ESRB RECOMMEND NO MORE THAN TWO (2) VIRTUAL HOURS (VH) IN SIMULATOR IN ONE SESSION. REMEMBER TO TAKE BREAKS OFTEN!
Yeah, yeah, government bullshit concerned about my health and safety. Get me my entertainment!
The yellow words and lights faded and I was left in the darkness once again. I'm ready to be entertained. It's a miracle this survived for over 200 years, but I'm ready to be entertained!
A drum rolled…
さあ～こんばんはみんなさん-
Japanese Language (ISO 639-3: JPN) detected, attempting to process dubbing…
Ok, great! It's going to be in English! A language I can understand. I still had a bad feeling about this; it's from another country, anything could go wrong. If it wasn't from this country, it wasn't right.
"It's UMA-UMA'S 'I don't know where the caramel shop is!' 2051 24-hour New Year's Special! Super shiny black demon flowrider HIT IN THE USA!"
That animation of those words appearing in front of my face was just simply, epic. I wish I could've replayed it again but the replay controls on this thing seemed completely busted. Damn, pre-war people had the best shit on television! Mini rockets and fireworks, zipping and streaming in front of my face! This was great!
Warning! Corrupt .savi file detected, attempting to fast-forward to next scene!
Great! And the worst technology to stand the test of time!
As the scene re-materialized around me, I was placed in a prewar gymnasium. It was really wide and empty, save for bunk beds in the middle of the gym arranged in a square. I really hoped that was for show, I didn't want to spend the night here if possible. I took a step to walk when I noticed something different about my step and only then did finally I notice comfortable, clean, clothes. A simple red tracksuit, more specifically, a Puma one, but I'm not complaining. I may have not noticed how clean this place was compared to the wasteland but I did now.
I heard a door opening, its sound reverberating throughout the gym. I turned around, anticipating that they were going to shoot me, like most things that happened in the wasteland. Instead, three guys with matching outfits casually walked in, talking amongst themselves.
Why the hell didn't they notice me? Soft green letters faded into my field of vision, I must be fucking seeing things.
The AI is programmed not to interact with you for a few moments
But-
Don't worry, this is normal. This simulation has rules you know.
Okay, that was odd. It was like it was reading my mind.
I shuddered in shock over the friendly announcement tone that blared throughout the place. I spun around, in fear of what would happen next.
A hole appeared in the floor across the gym, with a slightly burly man popping out of it, cross-dressing in shockingly blue, pale, pre-war dress and a purple bonnet. He was definitely mental, with some kind of stupid personality disorder.
"HEEEEEEELLOOOOO, kitties!" a high-pitched shrill echoed throughout the gym. Oh my god. This was going to be hell.
I walked over with the other three bastards, expecting them not knowing what to expect as well. "Come, everyone!" he waved.
"So, what do you think?" he smiled. The rest of us were speechless. "You think ordinary Americans like you can survive Japanese ingenuity, huh?"
What a cocky prick. "Especially you, Markie! Wipe that cocky grin off your face." Mark? Was that irritating cross-dressing hypocrite talking to me? It seemed like it.
The mainframe gave me another message…
You are playing under the name Mark Torres-Vierra
But my name isn't Mark.
Just play along. Don't resist, the pain is only temporary…
"Well, it's about to start soon," he tipped his purple bonnet forward. "Good luck to all of you in 3, 2, 1!"
A buzzer sounded and he disappeared into the black hole that suddenly appeared from under his feet. In his place spawned a skinny man covered head to toe in black. He didn't speak to us; the only thing written on his body was…
Cattle prod.
Shit, this couldn't be good. It may have taken a split second to realize it, but it seemed like forever. I knew there was only thing I could do. Run, and run as fast as I could. I turned around like the other three guys and just bolted, praying that my legs were fast enough. I could hear the yelps and the screams coming from the other players. I turned my head back, suddenly aware that he was just behind me!
I tried, but it was not enough as he poked the prod into my legs first, that short painful electrical shock pulsing through my body. I stumbled on the hardwood floor, a few more shocks given to my already curled up body. I yelped at the pain. I was glad he stopped, disappearing into a hole in the ground, glad that it was all over.
Another buzzer sounded and another hole opened up on the other side of the gym. Another one of those things! I stumbled trying to get up, almost head over heels. He was spraying something into one of them, though I couldn't tell what it was. He then sprinted over me and sprayed something into my face as well. I coughed on it, nearly made me throw up! What was this sick game!?
Another buzzer, another hole, and another black goon popped up from out of the ground. I didn't think there was going to be an end to this madness. I forced my legs to pick themselves up and start running, because I really didn't want to get my ass kicked, literally. That's what it said! My legs gave up on me as I tried to struggle with the goons that captured me.
"Oi! Let go!" I tried yanking my wrists from their grasps. They didn't listen as I felt a sharp kick to my ass, the enormous blunt pain ricocheting through my body. God, that was painful, almost close to getting shot. I crumpled to the floor, moaning in pain as I saw the last goon disappear into the floor in the corner of my heavily squinted eyes.
"Holy crap! Are you okay?" I heard one of them ask me.
"This is insane!" another one complained. "It's only been a few minutes right? We have to survive 24 hours!?"
"Shut up! We get money at the end!" I heard another one say. My god, those people are pathetic. If they weren't playing for money at the end, they wouldn't be here complaining their asses off. If they were dropped into the Wasteland, they wouldn't last a day.
A few minutes passed by but we weren't in the mood for introductions. I just kept to myself, still lying there on the floor, silently watching them move around nervously. If I was scared of those things I tried not to show it.
That friendly announcement tone startled us once again as we jumped up from wherever we were at and started looking around, ready to run. Another hole popped out of the ground, was it a demon? Something else? Something even more sinister than the goons that chase us around every so often?
"HEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOO, kitties!" a high pitched squeal came out of the black hole before that stupid cross-dresser popped out in an equally festive "Hello Kitty" dress, holding four trays in his hand. I'm guessing that was for breakfast. "Come here! I can't sing, dance, or play good music but I can score breakfast!"
I walked with as much forced excitement I could put into my feet, I'm sure he couldn't make a good breakfast either.
"Ah, kitties! Before we start eating, we've got to say a prayer!"
I wanted to blurt out something along the lines of "You've GOT to be fucking KIDDING!" but I knew that arguing with this Section 8, Michael Jackson, cross-dresser was dumb. It would take longer to argue with him than actually enjoy my meal. I stood there with my arms folded,
"For this food we," he started. None of us responded. I certainly never believed in a stupid prayer when I was nearly shot to death but whatever; I could wait. If it meant a hot meal, I could wait.
"Oi! Kitties! I didn't get discharged so I could babysit you lot! Repeat after me!" He started again, "For this food…
I sighed, putting as much contempt for this crazy bitch to get shot in the middle of his face in my words. "For this food,"
"We are truly grateful."
"We are truly grateful," we grumbled.
"We wish to share it with all beings."
I couldn't believe he'd dare shove this crap down my throat! "We wish to share it with all beings."
"Thank you, Producer Goodman."
"Thank you, Producer Goodman."
"We are truly grateful."
"We are truly grateful."
"Ok! Well done kitties! Here's your breakfast!" He gleefully cheered, handing us our trays of breakfast. It smelled wonderful, looked great, and tasted better than anything that I had ever had so far. If I could take this out of the simulation, that would be awesome! I could stay forever in this place if there weren't black goons chasing me around every few moments.
My tasty meal was interrupted at the sound of another goon popping out the floor and another chase ensued. I ran, but thankfully not caught this time as I saw one of them take a huge slap to the face. I don't think it was a girl like Megan doing the slapping; it was man doing the slapping. I've already gotten slapped in the face once anyway.
His ass crumpled on the ground. "That guy… he slaps harder than my girlfriend," he sputtered out.
I laughed. Simply put, he was pathetic.
"How can you laugh? He got owned by a man-slap!" the other two said at almost the same time.
I didn't respond, I couldn't respond; this was too hilarious to believe. Throughout breakfast, I tried to stifle the laughter that wanted to escape the smirk on my face.
After an hour and a half or so into the challenge, I was getting used to running around in circles, trying to desperately avoid unusual and sometimes dangerous punishments that were enjoyable to watch being inflicted on another person. Less so once I got caught a few times but hey, it was inevitable. Some of these punishments were painful, but I could manage without being killed or seriously injured. It's not like I'm getting shot or facing super mutants in this simulation.
However, after around two hours, as more of the attacks came, the other contestants' faces started to fade, melt, disappear, I don't know what. It was strange to me, my face was still intact. Well, I didn't expect the simulation to be perfect after 200 years, but I carried on within the simulation. The pain seemed real but everything else outweighed it; the food, the shelter, and definitely watching other people run around.
Another buzzer, another goon; even though my legs are tired, I had to keep running. I didn't know what a submission lock was but I knew it couldn't be good for my legs. I tripped; there was no use getting back up as my legs were wrapped around the goon's leg and…
"Fuck!" I exclaimed from the pain. My leg was put into a bar and my knee forced into a position to cause me the most… Goddamnit! The pain seared up my body. How long was it going to last? I slapped the floor violently, begging for that psychopath to let up on my legs! I thought they were going to snap!
"STOP! GODDAMMIT, STOP!" I screamed in pain. After what seemed like an eternity, he let up on my legs and left me to struggle to sit myself up.
"It's because you keep saying awful things," one of the red tracksuit guys said to me. I couldn't tell which one, all the unique features that identified him were blurred out. His voice was monotone as well. I wordlessly flipped him off; I didn't care.
Three and a half hours in and these punishments seemed to be getting more, creative. The Japanese, whoever they were, certainly had the art of brutal entertainment down. The fanciful enjoyments of seeing another person suffer in controlled pain and then bringing it over to us to experience. It's genius from a producer's standpoint.
There was calm in the simulation with no more of those things popping out of the floor. I think I had my fill of entertainment already; I needed to get back to the wasteland. I couldn't stay in here forever; there was no way I wanted to. I had to get my supplies back over the irradiated Charles. There has to be some way this simulation could let me out early, like a release command or something. The green letters responded to my thoughts once again.
I'm sorry, visitor. I am afraid I cannot do that.
What the-
This simulation must go on for the full 24 hours to preserve your physiological and psychological integrity…
Seriously?
Yes, I'm-
How the hell can I trust you? I'm supposed to be safe inside here!
You are. However due to the corrupt file and irregularities within my reconstruction system, I cannot guarantee your safety upon reconstruction and reintegration into reality if you choose to end the simulation early.
I don't care if you can't guarantee my safety 100%, what's the probability if I escaped here without any problems?
5% with +/- 3% margin of error.
My thoughts were racing and screaming. If the mainframe materialized in front of my eyes, I wanted to strangle it to death! Tear it up and make sure no one found its circuits! Why the hell did it allow me of all people!? It knew that its systems were damaged, but why me?
I am sorry for the inconvenience.
Not good enough, this is my body and mind you're talking about.
I sat down on the virtual bed in the middle of the gymnasium. Was I ever going to make it out of this place? It's only been three and a half hours, at least by the virtual clock I was looking at. I realized then that I was trapped, with my body and my thoughts at stake throughout the 24 hours. Even then, would the computer stay true to its word? It's already deceived me once before.
But the nagging question was, how long would I be trapped in here compared to out there?
24 hours?
24 days?
24 months?
24 years?
I hoped it was 24 hours. If I was trapped in here any longer, then I was screwed. The wasteland easily changes within a short period of time. I knew that here more than any of the red dummies that stood in my way.
I hoped I wouldn't let anyone any one down when I return…
TO BE CONTINUED…
References that I'd like to point out of the things I featured, but there are more, happy hunting!
- The river crab (河蟹) is a euphemism describing internet censorship in China. When the Chinese government censors something it usually gives a reason constructing a "harmonious society" as a reason. Chinese internet users used "harmonious" (和谐) as a euphemism for censorship, when the word "censorship" was censored. When the government started censoring "harmonious", the term "river crab" came into use as it sounds similar to "harmonious."
- The simulation is a parody of Japanese New Years Specials which usually involves some kind of special event fun, usually funny and harmless. This specifically parodies Downtown's Gaki no Tsukai ya Arahende!! (ダウンタウンのガキの使いやあらへんで!!) and their infamous 24-hour batsu (punishment) games usually held during New Years. It can only be described as hell for anyone to go through it and hard to describe to anyone who hasn't seen it. There are English subtitles for some of these out on the internet, which I'll gladly direct via PM.
- On the other hand, I take a stab at MTV, for taking Silent Library (one of the more famous segments of the show above), ripping it out and creating an "American remake" to put it very lightly. Compared to the American version, the tasks executed on the comedians 5, 7, or even 8 years ago just don't measure up. It's not the same.
- That cross-dresser is a nod to Cpl. (later Sgt.) Maxwell Klinger of M*A*S*H fame dressing up in dresses attempting to be discharged via Section 8 from the army.
A/N: Ten Chapters: Looking Back
If there's something I learned about capturing the feeling, emotions, and pressures of survival, I have come to an undeniable truth.
I know nothing.
I can confidently say that this is not because I haven't experienced the world 200 years after a nuclear war nor have I lost confidence in my research and writing but it's just that I have discovered something that puts a refreshing edge into capturing the bitter essence of survival. If you strip guns, cinematic explosions, and any unnecessary other things that make disaster movies so popular away, only human emotion remains. Panic, uncertainty, doubt, desperation; emotions which have been the most difficult to capture for anyone trying to work on describing aspects of a survival nature. I think I have found a series that captures all of that, without having to resort to cinematic explosions and unnecessary gunfights.
Tokyo Magnitude 8.0
It's an anime about if Tokyo was struck by a magnitude 8.0 earthquake. Short of depicting all sorts of outright mass chaos and murder, I'll admit, after three episodes, I'm hooked; I'll be following this series closely and learning from it. While I cannot affirm or refute their statement of the amount of research the people have done for the series, I can positively say it feels incredibly satisfying and I would highly recommend for anyone to take a look at this series just to take in the emotions of the characters and the broken world around them. I still have my old psychology textbooks with me but it's not dynamic enough. I've seen the survival shows they do on TV but even I admit they're glitzy; where it's almost shockingly predictable where the survival expert wins once again. I'll admit, freelance creations about survival depicted realistically is abnormally tough and it's best done by professional studios, authors, and media outlets.
But that shouldn't stop me or anyone else from trying.
Cheers.