Disclaimer: Fallout 3 is the property of Bethesda Softworks. I gain no monetary profit from writing this.

ATLAS

Chapter 2: Work

"We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America." – Preamble of the Constitution of the United States; September 17, 1787

"Marcus!"

He turned his head, staring down the corridor at Amata, who had called his name. As she was approaching him, he turned back to his work, and continued tightening the valve on the water pipe.

When she reached him, he finally responded, "Need something, Amata? I'm rather busy here."

Amata was taken aback. Each time she had spoken to him, for the last two-and-a-half years, Marcus had been just a little bit testy, as though something vaguely upsetting (but was not her fault) kept happening just before she encountered him; but he'd never blown her off like that before. "Umm, yes, actually, I do need something."

He stopped working for a moment, and turned his head towards her just long enough to say, "Okay, what's up?" before turning his concentration back to his work.

"Well, it's your birthday tomorrow…" she began softly.

Now he was surprised. "Really? How about that. I don't notice the passing of time as much anymore… So, what about it? Got something planned?"

"…I was hoping that you would join me for dinner. In my quarters."

His hands stopped. But when he looked at her once more, instead of shock, his face was incredulous. "Dinner? With you?"

She nodded, with a hopeful look on her face. "Yes, I've been taking lessons from Ms. Palmer. I was hoping to cook for you."

His hands came away from the valve, leaving the wrench attached. His whole body turned and faced her. His hands rose to his hips, and he stared. "Amata. Dinner. With you. In your quarters."

Now her voice was small, as though she hadn't wanted to consider what he meant. "Well, I was hoping that he…"

He interrupted. "That what? That your father didn't spend nearly an hour shouting at me in the middle of the Atrium, just yesterday, for no reason other than my asking him to change his policy on water use? Your father, who jumped for joy the day I turned down a medical career for one in Maintenance, only to turn furious when he realized that he would be depending on me for his own livelihood? Your father, whose idea of responding to my inquiries about spare parts is to threaten to have my ration coupons docked for insubordination? Your father, who hates me, despite the fact that I am the best –the best- mechanic the Vault has ever had, for reasons he is unwilling to discuss with anyone? You were hoping that that man could be rational enough for one evening, for my sake or yours, to allow me to have dinner in your quarters, alone with you, and not hold it against me for the remainder of his career as Overseer?"

She seemed to shrink down into herself. "Well, I was hoping you would want to, but if you don't…" She seemed ready to cry.

He pinched the top of his nose, lowering his head and sighing. "Amata, whether I would want to join you for dinner or not is completely irrelevant. You know precisely how your father would respond. Unfortunately, your father is currently the Overseer. I am a mechanic, meaning that even if my relationship with the Overseer hadn't been so strained, he'd never approve. The fact that I deliberately chose a lower-level career, and am actually more intellectually capable than he, doesn't make a difference to him. Actually, scratch that, that fact is what he hates me for."

Tears had begun in her eyes, but Marcus had no pity. 'She knew all of this before she brought this to me.' "What am I supposed to do…?"

"I told you more than two years ago what you should do. You didn't listen then, and you aren't going to now: I can already see that. I told you a long time ago that your father isn't much more than a brute who can't see past his own nose; I told you that if you wanted to be able to live your own life for yourself, you would have to break with him; I told you that so long as you allowed his approval be the primary criterion for your life, you would be unhappy; I told you that he didn't love you, or anyone else, because the only thing he ever really enjoyed was control.

"I told you that the only reason that he treats you the way he does, as though he constantly disapproves of everything you choose for yourself, is because he actually does disapprove: he hates the fact that you aren't under his control."

Tears were flowing. She ran off.

Marcus sighed again. 'Truth only hurts when you've been lying to yourself.'

~~~Scene Break~~~

"Sir?"

Alphonse Amaldovar scowled. That voice, the one he hated most, appearing out of nowhere, yet again. 'How could he possibly get to my office without anyone noticing, or at least hearing, him?! Stanley, at least, can usually be heard from a different floor just by the noises from the tools he carries.'

"What is it?!"

"You agreed to hear my performance report today, sir. I have come to give it."

The performance report was something the Overseer had created for the sole purpose of trying to keep Marcus under his thumb. Once a year, Marcus had to give a complete report on what he had accomplished that year, and defend basically every decision he made. What Marcus was actually supposed to do, and how the Overseer justified it to the rest of the Vault, was to give a report on the current state of the Vault. The problem was that because Marcus was in the Maintenance department, and had taken over the senior mechanic position from Stanley( the only way the Overseer could justify having Marcus give the report), anything negative he said was construed to be his fault, because he was the one in charge of maintaining the Vault systems.

The Overseer hadn't yet managed to find fault with anything he did, but that didn't stop him from trying. Precisely what Marcus's punishment for a poor performance report would be was left unsaid, but Marcus knew that it would be both bad and completely unjust. 'One way or another, this one will be my last,' he thought.

"Fine. I don't have a lot of time, so get started."

"Very well. Before I begin, sir, I would like you to agree to hear everything I have to say, and not to interrupt me." He held up his hand, forestalling the first interruption. "I don't expect you to agree with anything I have to say, but I would like you to hear it. When I am done, I will explain each and every one of my conclusions to your satisfaction, if you like. If you don't like what I have to say, say so and I will never mention it again."

Alphonse stared at him a long moment, but finally nodded. "Fine. I'll listen one time, and one time only."

"Okay. The Vault is dying."

Alphonse's mouth tightened, and Marcus could see the rage in his eyes, but he did not interrupt. "At present, less than 20% of the Vault remains in operation. For this reason, whole wings of the Vault have been closed. Some parts of the closed wings suffered damage in the initial nuclear barrage, because Vault-Tech decided to scrimp on the use of high-grade concrete. Based on my understanding of Pre-War concrete, a fair portion of what was used in the construction of Vault 101 was no better than middle-grade, which would have violated Vault-Tech's construction contract, if the US government were still around to prosecute.

"More damage has been done in the ensuing two centuries since the closing of the Vault, from a combination of earthquakes, thermal expansion/contraction in the surrounding rocks, and subterranean water flows. The original design of the Vault would probably last a thousand years (or more), if it had been built to spec. Since it wasn't, I estimate less than another century before the remaining sections of the Vault become unsuitable for human habitation. However, none of that matters, because we have more pressing problems.

"Our next problem is the lighting situation. As you probably know, living underground without lighting is impossible for humans. That said, we are down to less than 20% of our store of functional lights. Most of what we have working right now has been scavenged from the closed sections of the Vault, which was no easy task. As for our original store of spare parts, we ran through those by the time of the 4th Overseer, more than a century ago. With what we have remaining, if we begin rationing their use today – turning off the lights in store rooms when not in use, for example, as the Radroaches can't break in to those - they might last us another forty years. That, however, is also irrelevant, as our problems get worse.

"Our next problem is the generator. It is currently operating at 35% of capacity, which means that even if the closed sections of the Vault weren't so damaged, we would have to leave them closed anyway. Unfortunately, the generators were also not built to spec, as they were supposed to have 20% extra capacity above what the Vault needed to run all of its systems. As far as I can tell, it only had 4% extra. The generator's ability to produce electrical power has been constantly degrading since the Vault was opened, as it had a finite supply of deuterium for its fusion process. Also, the fuel supply has been degrading faster than projected, meaning a leak in the storage system. We do not have the equipment necessary to patch a leak small enough to emit hydrogen, so there's nothing we can do about that.

"However, that's only the fuel. The components have been badly degraded from being run at-capacity for so many years. Add in the fact that Vault-Tech was overly generous in their technical estimates of how efficient the many systems in the Vault are, makes for a serious problem. The Vault's life support systems – our hydroponics, water recycling, air filtering, etc – require at least 22% of the generator's maximum capacity to function. At the current rate of fuel depletion, we have approximately 27 years before our life-support system will be endangered. As before, we can push the problem back by rationing power use, but the best we can hope for is perhaps an additional 5 years.

"A problem equally worrisome but not nearly as bad is the situation with our medical supplies. As you know, for nearly two years prior to my father's appointment to the position, the Vault was without a medical officer. During this time, medical supplies were still being used, but poorly, resulting in waste. In addition, none of the equipment used to produce pharmaceutical agents such as aspirin and stimpaks received much maintenance during this period. This situation has improved somewhat since my father became the Vault Doctor, but his expertise is not with the repair of such machines. Unfortunately, because of the maintenance schedule you have insisted upon, neither Stanley nor I have had time to attempt further repairs to the machines. This problem can be solved, but only temporarily. Fixing the machines would help our situation with the chemical agents, but our store of the nonrenewable agents is reaching its end. We will no longer be able to produce stimpaks in as little as 23 years, and that assumes you assign us to fix the machines today.

"And the final, and worst, problem is the water chip. As you may, or may not, know, Vault 101 was supposed to be given two water chips, a main chip and a backup, for its original slated duration of 20 years. Each chip was given a minimum rating of twenty years by Vault-Tech, meaning that the backup may or may not have been necessary for the original mission.

"Instead, we were shipped 30 water chips: fifteen times our original allotment, and allowed for a maximum duration of 600 years. It was fortunate that we received so many, as only the first of them lasted longer than 15 years, and the rest lasted significantly less: the eleventh chip lasted just one year. As you should recall, Stanley and I recently installed our thirtieth and final chip, after the previous one cracked. With an average lifespan of 15 years, our hopes for this one lasting the entire original specified 20 years are not good. If I began today, I might be able to scavenge sufficient parts from the previous 29 broken chips to cobble together a makeshift chip. Based on my examination of the components scavenged from the previous chips, however, this is not likely, and there is no way of knowing how long the makeshift chip would last. If you install significant water rationing today, it is possible that we might stretch the life of this last chip out to the entire twenty years. And no further.

"I have neglected to mention my analysis of these problems, up to this point. But I shall remedy that now.

"There is but one solution: open the Vault. We need not do so today, soon, or even this year, but it must be done. The problem of the generator is the one most easily solved: access to water not for human use will allow for electrolyzation, and the collection of additional deuterium. If any settlements exist, they may have access to, or at least knowledge of, spare parts that could be used to repair the generator.

"If nothing else, I believe that, with access to silicon-based sand, I could manufacture light bulbs for use in the Vault. They would be primitive, at best, and inefficient, but I could do so even with just the tools in the Vault. That does not include any equipment that could be scavenged from old factories, or perhaps purchased from settlements.

"The water problem would also be easier to solve. Even if no replacements for the chip could be found, access to simple sunlight would allow for a full-size solar purifier to be built. And as for our medical supplies, new chemical agents could be manufactured from nothing more than trace elements in the soil.

"Nothing can be done regarding the Vault's structure. That is unfortunately a fact. But it won't matter after a century of having the Vault open.

"The fact of the matter is, sir, that it isn't much short of a miracle that the Vault's machinery has lasted this long. If I had been alive when it was built, I would have given poor odds on it doing so. There is no question, sir, that it has lasted us an amazingly long time. But machinery does not last forever. We have run through our supply of spare parts, and have done so decades ago. We are nearing the end of our supply of cannibalizable parts from unused sections. We are fast approaching the point where we will have to close currently used sections in order to keep going. The situation will not improve unless the Vault is opened. It may not, even then, but it is our only chance.

"I am aware, sir, that you have taken a hard line against even the mention of opening the Vault. That is the reason I have never brought it up before. But I have spent no small part of this year preparing this report, sir, because whatever personal feelings you may have regarding the opening of the Vault during your tenure as Overseer, it cannot be put off any longer. You, sir, need to make the decision now, because if you do not, there will be nothing we can do about these situations. Even if my estimates are off, they will not be off by much. Meaning, that if you choose to do nothing, your successor will be our last Overseer. In fact, my estimates may be too generous, and you may be our last Overseer, if you choose to do nothing, sir."

Marcus stopped speaking.

Alphonse Amaldovar's eyes had gone cold before Marcus could finish his second sentence, and had not warmed at all during his report. Marcus was under no illusions: The Overseer had heard, but would pay little attention to his report. The only thing the man had heard, as he had expected, was that Marcus was advocating opening the Vault.

~~~ Flashback~~~

Marcus had decided, at age 10, shortly after receiving his PipBoy, that he would leave the Vault someday. He knew, even then, that the Vault would eventually fail, just as all machinery eventually did. Without an outside source of spare parts, entropy would eventually take the Vault. So, it was at age 10 that he decided to begin preparing for life Outside.

Unfortunately, there he ran into a wall. The reconnaissance reports of Ann Palmer were useful, but extremely limited in scope. All he knew was that people were still alive outside, that there were still pockets of radioactive material from the bombings, and that the local fauna was both large and dangerous.

Turning to the Vault archive, he began researching anything even remotely useful his spare time. Downloading the files to his PipBoy, he could study them any time he wanted, even during Mr. Brotch's class, since he was the best student. Military manuals, firearm manuals, civilian survival guides, general repair manuals… anything even remotely useful.

But, very quickly, he came to the conclusion that no matter how much he studied guns, without practical experience he would be little better than any other amateur. A weapon is only a weapon in hands prepared to use it, after all. So, with no access to guns, with what weapons could he prepare his hands?

It was, ironically, his father who gave him the idea. "You know how hard it is to find a spring that small? Luckily, Butch 'misplaced' that switchblade of his…" Making a weapon couldn't be that hard.

That meant more research. It led to the discovery of first a comic book, and then a real text containing a short history of a famous group of assassins: the ninja. Marcus couldn't do everything the ninja were supposed to have done for training, but he could do a fair bit of it.

His physical training began immediately. Some of it was simple muscle control, and he could do it while sitting in class. Other parts he did in his room. One thing he could do all the time, though, was silence. Walking, moving, even breathing quietly would be useful skills in what would likely be a violent and dangerous world Outside, and many predators (both human and non) hunted by sound.

After a year, he began trying to make simple weapons. Shuriken, the metal star-shaped blades meant for throwing, were easily made from scrap metal. Learning to throw them accurately was not so easy, and he would spend the better part of five years learning to do so. By the time he'd mastered it, though, he could easily land a killing blow at thirty feet with one.

He didn't have, and wouldn't be able to get, a gun. He could, however, have the next best thing: a bow. Like the shuriken, a bow was easy to make. Arrows were a little harder, but still simple. Learning to shoot was difficult, but he could reliably hit the bulls-eye on a head-sized target at thirty yards (the longest corridor he could find, in an unused section of the Vault) by the time he'd mastered the shuriken.

Other skills he learned to a greater or lesser extent. Hojutsu (the art of tying people up) he couldn't really practice, except on mannequins he made for the purpose, but he could practice getting out of being tied up. Basic medicine he could (and did) learn from his father. Tracking could not be practiced, and so would remain a theoretical skill until after he left. Starting a fire was easy to learn, but hard to conceal in the Vault.

Technology, though, was what really intrigued him. After what he'd read, he came to the opposite conclusion that many in the Vault had: technology was not evil, it was merely a tool. Philosophy, however, was a means of thinking: it could be evil. Technology, after all, was just applied science; science was applied reason; and reason was man's primary survival tool. It was therefore impossible for technology to be evil. He then noticed the disconnect: technology might have been what allowed the Chinese Communists to bomb the US, but it was technology that kept people alive inside the Vault.

A study of technology required a thorough study of science, and with that achieved, lead to a study of industry…

~~~End flashback~~~

He met the Overseer's hard gaze, and held it. He knew that all he was doing, by showing no fear, was pissing the old man off. But he didn't care. He had just presented the man with a complete and, more importantly, incontrovertible argument for opening the Vault; and, instead of thinking, the old man responded by getting angry. This was the final bit of evidence that proved Marcus's theory: Alphonse Amaldovar didn't care about why. So long as he was Overseer, no one was leaving the Vault.

Finally, the old man opened his mouth. His words were cold. "If you ever speak of this again, you will spend the rest of what will prove to be a very short life in the security cell. Do I make myself clear?"

Marcus kept his face impassive. After a moment, he replied, "Perfectly, sir."

"Good. Now get out."

And with that, Marcus removed himself from the office, again soundlessly.

'Anyone that sneaky can't be trusted,' thought Alphonse.

~~~Scene break: One week later~~~

"Wake up! Come on, you've got to wake up!"

Amata was calling him…

Author's Notes: In terms of the game mechanics, Marcus is going to walk out of the Vault with 50 in every skill except Big Guns, Energy Weapons, Small Guns, and Explosives (the explanation being his research, and practice, constituting reading Skill Books). Those 4 will be set at 25.

He will also walk out with the Silent Running, Daddy's Boy, Entomologist, Intense Training, Robotics Expert, Light Step, Thief, Ninja, and Gun Nut perk (the last being his source of Small Guns skill).His attributes will be set to: Str. 8, Per. 9, End. 8, Cha. 5, Int. 10, Agi. 9, Luck 8 (Total 57 points: 40 base stat points, 10 levels of Intense Training, and 7 Bobble heads).

Marcus isn't going to be invincible, but he will be perceptive, intelligent, and agile, meaning that he simply won't walk into most traps, and will fight in such a way so as to take maximum advantage of his abilities. This is the way I play Fallout 3, and that is the way Marcus will fight. As for his conversation with Mr. Brotch, Marcus is merely the most intelligent person Mr. Brotch has ever met, which isn't too many people. Marcus is very intelligent, but it's more creativity than 'extreme awesome smartness!!!!!'

Thank you to all my readers! I am glad that so many people have received my story so well. I will not stop writing this story until it is finished, I promise you that, but I will do it for myself, not for you (not that I don't appreciate you all). My original timeline set the final scene of the last chapter as being 2097, twenty years after the start of Fallout 3. There will be a few time-skips involved, so don't fret.

Second Note: Philosophical Discussion Ahead! Part 1 of why capitalism is moral

(You do not need to read this in order to understand the story, not really. But you may wish to do so, as you will find it hard to understand why some of Marcus's decisions are moral if you don't read these. I will post new parts of this explanation at the ends of subsequent chapters.)

Some people have wondered if Marcus is going to be a so-called Mary-Sue, and while I dislike the term, I will explain: I, and by extension Marcus, am a moral absolutist. I am unwilling to compromise my principles, ever, for any reason. By choosing to be such a person, I must choose my principles in such a way that I would never be tempted to bend them, and so I have.

Life is my basic value, and the means by which life can be achieved by man is Reason, making it man's basic virtue (a value is that which one acts to gain or keep, a virtue is the means by which one does so). Integration of knowledge must be done according to the rules of reason (which prevent errors in reasoning), and we call these rules logic. Reason and Logic are based on the law of identification: A is A; and also upon the law of non-contradiction: object A cannot be B and "not-B" at the same time and in the same sense.

Logical conclusions cannot contradict things already known (this is the phenomenon of proving a falsehood using proper formal logic: the problem is always a false premise); this is known as rationality. By contrast, to rationalize something is to distort it so that it seems not to contradict things known, but in fact still does so.

Being a rational human, my standard of value is life, specifically my life. I can have no other rational standard, because in order to remain alive I must live for myself. Living for others makes suicide a rational choice, and it is therefore unacceptable. Suicide is only rational in very specific situations; for example, if a wife, deeply loved by her husband, dies, it may be rational for him to follow her. It would not be rational for him to merely grab a gun and shoot himself upon learning of her death, however. What would be rational is for him to decide, "Everything I valued took the form of my wife. Without her, life has nothing further to offer me," put his affairs in order, and then follow her. This, however, supposes a particular definition of love, which I will now explain.

If reason is the basis of value, emotion cannot be one. However, it is not: the so-called dichotomy of logic/emotion is in fact a false one. Leonard Peikoff, a professor of philosophy and the heir of Objectivism, taught his students this with a simple experiment:

He walked into class and, without saying a word, began passing out exam booklets. Without fail, it only took a few minutes before his students began responding how it wasn't fair, he hadn't told them there was a test that day… and so on. Still without saying a word, he then collected the blank exam books, and then responded, "Do you see now? Emotion follows thought. First you experience the event: I passed out test books. Then, you processed the event: the books meant a test, a test that you would likely fail because you hadn't studied, and you hadn't studied because I hadn't warned you that there would be a test, and of course that failing a test was bad. Then came the emotional response: panic, and anger. Panic at the prospect of an unexpected failure, anger at the lack of warning." Event, then thought (reason, logic, rationality), then emotional response.

This means that love, an emotion, must have a logical basis. The basis of love, of course, is value. In order to fully experience a romantic relationship with someone else – i.e., in order to love someone other than yourself – you must first love yourself. In order to love yourself, you must fully examine every part of yourself, and you may not believe anything contradictory, which would, for example, exclude being religious, as every religion makes some kind of contradictory claim in order to induce guilt in its adherents. Once you can love yourself, by recognizing everything you value correctly, you must then find a person who embodies all the things you value. If you find this person, you will experience what is often called "true love". It is love in its purest form, because the parts of them that make you love them are the parts of yourself that make you love yourself.

This is the only rational sort of love. Any other sort eventually leads to alienation, and betrayal, with even a small amount of sustained tension. Many people throughout history, including the likes of Jesus, Mother Theresa, Gandhi, and others, have called upon us to "love our enemies". This is impossible. One cannot love the people one hates. But by calling upon us to do so, they are inducing guilt: guilt because we believe (for equally bad reasons) that what they are saying is moral, but we are unable to obey. It is this guilt that ensnares religious believers. And it is this guilt that makes them cling as hard as they do to their religions: they think the only way to give up religion is to give up morals, and this is why they imagine that atheists are evil.

…I have wandered a bit from what I wanted so say, but everything was meaningful, at least. I, and Marcus, are not moral relativists, but moral absolutists. It is simply that we see individualism and capitalism as being moral. I will explain more in later chapters.