Chapter 30 - Talk

Jim didn't care for his Pip-Boy. He'd had the thing strapped to his arm for a whole week already, but he still wasn't used to it. It was heavy and bulky, and always seemed to get in the way. No matter what he did, it seemed that he just couldn't get used to it. Worst of all, it made it more difficult to write. Not that he was doing much writing anymore these days. Paper was a carefully-guarded commodity that would remain as such until the saplings in the horticulture deck grew mature enough to harvest for pulp. And who knew how long that would take? Years, probably.

Though it surely would go faster with more people assigned to tend the gardens. But assigning occupations was the job of the Overseer, according to Baker. The bot had explained that the Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test, or G.O.A.T., that would ordinarily determine a dweller's occupation didn't quite apply to a Vault's initial inhabitants. Instead, it was up to the elected Overseer to interview each dweller on an individual basis to discuss their skills, experiences, and interests, while also noting aspects about their personality. All of these observations would lead Jim to decide what job best suited the individual in question, and then they would have to do that job for the rest of their life.

So, yeah, no pressure.

"Where are we on the list?" Jim asked as he looked over at the bright blue Handy.

"You most-recently completed the occupational assessment of a Mister Thomas Rockwell, sir," Baker explained, "You assigned him to the engineering department due to his brief internship with RobCo Industries, as I recall."

"Right, right," Jim nodded before leaning back in his seat, "So who's next?"

"That would be one Miss Mary Rodgers," Baker answered.

"Alright, then notify her and send her up," Jim nodded again.

"At once, sir!"

While Baker went off to do as ordered, Jim turned his seat around to face the terminal. He wasn't happy. According to the chart, the Vault had less than half of the intended number of dwellers. Vault 31 was registered to have close to 200 residents. Yet the total number of dwellers who'd actually managed to get inside was only 56, barely a quarter of what it was supposed to be. And everyone was the same age too, for whatever reason. Probably some sort of programming error that only confirmed entry for those born in 2059, Jim figured.

Either way, it didn't make things easier. A Vault wasn't intended to be run by only a motley crew of untrained teenagers. Sure, the robotic staff could help here and there, but there were only eight of them. Three Miss Nanny models, and four Mister Handy models. And then Baker, of course. It made Jim nervous about the future of the Vault as a whole. There was no way they could keep things running for long without more people.

But the only way to obtain more people at this point was… well, babies. Children.

Vault 31's 56 human residents were all between the ages of 17 and 18. Barely more than children themselves, even if Jim wasn't too keen to think of himself as a child. He was even less keen to think of himself having a child. Nevermind that he was way too young to become a father, who was he even supposed to have a child with anyway?

Jim was in the middle of trying to rub away a growing stress headache when the elevator door opened abruptly, making him flinch. He sat up and quickly spun around in his chair to face the desk again.

"Excuse me, um, Baker said you wanted to speak to me, Mister Overseer?" A quiet girl, Mary Rodgers evidently, spoke up from in front of the elevator.

Jim looked up at her and took stock of her appearance. She was a small girl, probably even shorter than he was, and seemed only smaller from the hunched way she tucked into herself. And she was kind of creepy-looking, too. She had long black hair that draped over the sides of her face and it reached down to her waist, leaving only the narrow slit of her paper-white nose and frowning lips visible. It made her look like one of those ghost girls you'd see in a horror movie. All she needed was the bloody white dress.

"Ah, yes! For your occupational interview!" Jim cleared his throat as he quickly picked up the tablet from his desk, tapping to open the questionnaire he'd prepared.

He was quite proud of that little questionnaire. He'd thrown it together last minute when Baker had informed him that it was his responsibility to assign jobs. It may have been made quickly, but he'd designed it rather carefully all the same. It was based off of the questions he'd seen on the G.O.A.T. exam, although perhaps a little less strange in nature than some of those.

"Occupational interview…?" Mary asked as she approached the desk, ghastly pale fingers interlaced over her stomach.

"Ah, I just call it that to make it sound official," Jim chuckled while gesturing for her to sit in one of the seats across from him, "I just want to ask you some questions so that I can figure out what job you should do here in the Vault. That sound okay?"

"Oh, that sounds alright," Mary mumbled before taking a seat, "What sort of questions?"

"Well, to start off, you can tell me about any previous work experience you might've had before… uh… before."

"You mean, before the world ended?" Mary asked quietly.

"Yeah… before that," Jim swallowed, glancing down at the tablet in his hands.

Mary was quiet for a moment and Jim glanced up at her to see her watching him. At least, he was pretty sure. It was a bit hard to tell with all of that hair shrouding her face.

"Sorry," She mumbled after a moment, tilting her head down, "I know most people don't like talking about it, but just don't see how pretending it didn't happen helps anyone."

Jim hesitated for a moment, not quite knowing what to say. In truth, he felt the same way. It'd only been a week since the bombs fell and the world had, as Mary put it, ended. But you'd never know it from looking at the way some people were acting. People like Howie Haley and Cat Williams, for instance. But after a beat, Jim decided honesty was the best policy. Besides, it'd probably do him some good to discuss it with someone, too.

"No, uh, I get it. Believe me, I do," Jim cleared his throat before setting the tablet aside, "I think most of them are still in shock over it, from what I've seen. It's just hard to really wrap your head around all of it, you know?"

"I guess I can understand that," Mary sighed, "It doesn't feel real sometimes. But that's why we should to talk about it."

"Well, we're talking about it now," Jim pointed, earning a subtle smile.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, but it's like my dad always says–said," Jim sat back in his seat, shrugging slightly, "Sometimes sick people need an injection, but that doesn't make them any less afraid of needles."

"Your father was a doctor?" Mary asked.

"Yeah," Jim nodded, "And I was studying to be one too, before the lockdowns."

Mary looked him up and down, obvious by the subtle tilting of her head, before she gave an affirmative nod.

"Hmm, yes, I think that tracks," She decided, "You seem the helpful type."

"So they keep telling me," Jim chuckled, "Maybe that's why I ended up as Overseer."

"Maybe," Mary shrugged, her dark hair ruffling at her shoulders, "But it's why you'll probably make a really good one."

"Yeah? You think so?" Jim perked a brow, "Because, between you and me, I honestly have no idea what I'm doing here."

"And that's exactly why you were elected instead of those other two," Mary explained, "You're honest."

"Sure, but there isn't exactly a correlation between honesty and competence," Jim pointed out.

"Oh, would you just take the compliment already?" Mary sighed, but in that amused sort of exasperation.

"Ah, were you complimenting me, Miss Rodgers?" Jim grinned, earning him another smile.

Something about the sight of it made Jim feel highly successful. What he was successful at, he couldn't be sure, but it felt good all the same.

"...Anyway, to answer your earlier question," Mary cleared her throat, "I was in my final year of high school, and had no prior work experience."

"Hm? Oh, right. The occupational assessment…" Jim mumbled before picking up the tablet, "Uh, okay, so do you have any hobbies then?"

"I used to be quite fond of scrapbooking, though that's no longer viable due to the paper rationing," Mary sighed.

"Alright then how about any other skills or talents?" Jim asked.

"Well," Mary shrugged, "I'm… neat?"

Jim hummed and looked at the list of remaining positions. Naturally, there were a good many that hadn't yet been filled. He'd mostly filled out the maintenance department, as that seemed the most essential and also lacked skill requirements. As long as you were able-bodied, you could work maintenance. He'd found a few who were interested in the science department, a single engineer, and even a couple doctors. As in, precisely two. But hey, that was a win in and of itself. He hadn't really been interested in trying to pull double duty as both Overseer and a physician. A few others had expressed a talent in cooking, which put them squarely to work in the diner. And then of course the all-important resource department, which focused on horticulture and water production.

But none of that seemed appropriate for Mary. She really didn't look like it, but she was someone he thought he could enjoy talking to, and he'd be lying if said he didn't find her openness refreshing. And he had an idea of how to put that to good use.

"You know…" Jim began, lowering the tablet, "I think I have something in mind for you."

"Oh yeah?" Mary tilted her head to the side, her hair draping across her cheek, "And what's that?"

Jim watched her for a moment before sitting back in his chair.

"What do you think about becoming a counselor?" He offered, "You could help the others talk through their feelings, about the bombs and other things, too."

Mary looked down, considering his words for a moment. Then she tilted her head back up to face him.

"You… really think I could do something like that?" She asked quietly, "That I could help people just by… talking to them?"

"Sure, I do," Jim smiled, "You're clearly observant, forthright, and easy to talk to. Besides, I know talking to you has already made me feel better."

Mary smiled again and tilted her head back down, her hair moving to almost completely block her face.

"Well, okay," She mumbled after a moment, "If you think I can do it…"

"I do," Jim said before leaning towards the desk, "But also, a suggestion?"

"Hm?" Mary tilted her head up, "What?"

"You'll probably do a bit better if they can actually see you," He smiled while gesturing towards her hair, "Don't you think?"

Even though the dark hair masked her, Jim could see Mary's porcelain white face flushed a shade of pink at his words.

"Well…" Mary cleared her throat, standing up, "You first need to assign a hairdresser for that, don't you, Mister Overseer?"

"Yeah, I guess I do," Jim chuckled and sat back in his seat.

A hairdresser, huh? He would definitely have to keep that in mind.