Chapter 20 - Win or Lose
As the Vault-Tec security officers had shoved Jim through the gear-shaped door at the end of the tunnel, they'd handed him a blue Vault suit to change into. Then they'd hit a console outside of the doorway, sealing themselves outside of it. Jim hadn't expected that, admittedly. He was even more surprised when he turned around and saw a crowd of equally dumbfounded teenagers. All of them looked to be about his age, eighteen, though a few of them might've been older or younger by a few months. It felt like being back in a college classroom.
He recognized a few faces of neighborhood kids, people he'd grown up with and seen in school. None of them were among the group he'd considered his friends, though. But he did find himself beelining over towards the most familiar face of the bunch, a boy who had lived at the end of his street.
"H-Hey!" He called with a wave as he hurried over, "Bruce! Brucie DiMucci, is that you?"
"Well, if it ain't little Jimmie Alden!" Bruce greeted, hand extended.
The two exchanged a firm handshake before Bruce smacked his hand on Jim's shoulder.
"Surprised to see you here, squirt," Bruce furrowed his brow, "I heard you'd gone off to some fancy school in Philly?"
"Penn Med, yeah," Jim nodded before adding with a frown, "I, uh, came back after the Plague lockdowns started."
"Oh yeah, yeah, right," Bruce frowned back, "Well, uh… glad you made it, buddy…"
An unpleasant moment of silence passed between them, both clearly filled with thoughts of the people they'd left out beyond the Vault. But then Bruce shuddered and shook his head.
"This whole thing is givin' me the jitters somethin' fierce," Bruce sighed, pulling his hand back to take a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, "Or maybe I just need a smoke."
Jim watched him put a cigarette between his lips and then pull an ornate silver flip lighter from his pocket to light the tip. Noticing Jim watching him, Bruce grinned around the cigarette.
"Like it?" He held up the fancy lighter to let Jim see it, "It's custom-made for me. Graduation present from my pop."
Jim peered at it curiously, noticing the letters "B.D." were engraved into the side. Bruce's initials, he deduced.
"That a fuel-based lighter?" Jim's brows rose, "Something like that must've been awful expensive."
"Naw, not fuel, but still pricey. See, it's one of them new-fangled atomic lighters," Bruce explained, "Controlled fission. Works the same way as those fusion-engine cars. This thing will last forever. If ya believe the box, anyway."
"Well, how about that," Jim hummed as Bruce flicked the lighter open with a poignant click.
Jim was impressed, for a moment. But then he remembered this wasn't just some ordinary Sunday chat with a neighbor at the local Red Rocket. The true weight of the situation loomed over him again like a haunting specter. And Bruce seemed to feel this at the same time, flipping the lighter closed with a frown.
"Ain't it almost funny?" Bruce scoffed, puffing a small cloud of smoke, "We got ourselves so jazzed over all this atomic stuff, and look where it got us, huh?"
"Yeah, I could just bust a gut," Jim grumbled, looking down.
Another beat of silence passed between them before Bruce cleared his throat.
"Hey, well, guess we're supposed to change into these things now, right?" Bruce held up the Vault suit in his free hand.
"I guess so," Jim nodded, looking around, "I wonder where we're supposed to go?"
"Well, squirt, why don't we have a look around? Could look together," Bruce offered, "Two eyes are better than one, right?"
"You mean four," Jim corrected.
"Huh?" Bruce blinked.
"Four eyes are better than two," Jim chuckled.
"Yeah, whatever. Says the guy with glasses," Bruce snorted, "...Even if ya aren't wearing 'em right now."
Jim recalled that he'd lost his eyeglasses in the mad dash for the Vault, though he didn't really need them anymore after his father had injected him with… whatever that was. He still hadn't been able to get an explanation about that mysterious yellow liquid. Jim knew it must've been something his father had worked on at West-Tek, but he was at a loss beyond that.
"Surprised you were even able to see me without 'em, actually," Bruce piped up, drawing Jim back from his thoughts, "You finally decide to go under the laser or something?"
"Uhh, something like that," Jim lied, figuring it'd be easier than trying to explain what had actually happened.
"Well, enough standin' around already," Bruce fidgeted impatiently as he pocketed his lighter, "Let's find somewhere to go change our threads."
Nodding to Bruce, Jim proceeded to look around the foyer as they began to walk. It was pretty barren, though the platform surrounding the door had a console with a button which didn't respond to input. Some of the others had already begun to hurriedly ascend the stairs, which lined either side of the room. Jim knew it was important to get to know their new home, but he figured there was no need to rush. He had a feeling there would be more than enough time for that.
As he and Bruce reached the top of the stairs, they were pushed into the back of a growing crowd. Some sort of roadblock ahead had caused the group to bunch up. He looked at Bruce quizzically, earning a shrug in response. Apparently not content to wait to find out what was happening, Bruce rudely pushed his way through the crowd. Jim quickly slipped in the path cut behind him, uttering quiet apologies to everyone they passed. Upon arriving at the front of the group, just behind Bruce, the source of the roadblock became clear.
A hovering Mister Handy was blocking the way forward, floating directly in front of the doors of what appeared to be an elevator. It was painted blue with yellow accents, the Vault-Tec logo stamped across its primary round shell.
"Good morning, new dwellers of Vault 31," the Mister Handy spoke out with its iconic British accent, "As I have said prior, I am programmed not to allow you to proceed further until an Overseer has been elected from among you. Oh, I do apologize for the inconvenience."
"What's an Overseer?" Bruce asked quietly, more towards Jim.
But the Mister Handy seemed to register his question anyway.
"The Overseer is the individual who is responsible for the administration and coordination of Vault 31's systems and residents," Mister Handy answered.
"So, it's like a mayor or something?" A dark-haired girl asked.
"Indeed, though the position of senator would be a more apt analogy," Mister Handy directed its three robotic eyes towards her, "Once an Overseer is elected, the tenure shall be for the remainder of the individual's natural life. Barring voluntary retirement, of course."
"Why do we have to pick who's in charge?" A bespectacled boy piped up, "Shouldn't this sort of thing already be taken care of?"
"While ordinarily, an Overseer would be assigned to a Vault in advance, I am afraid that Vault 31 is a bit of an exception," Mister Handy explained, "As you are all likely well-aware by this point, you have not been accompanied by any Vault-Tec staff. Therefore, an Overseer must immediately be chosen from among those present before we may proceed forward."
"What exactly does an Overseer have to do?" Jim asked warily, feeling like this whole situation was shady in a way he couldn't really explain.
"As previously stated, the Overseer's duties involve the management of resources, mechanisms, and personnel within the Vault," Mister Handy answered before adding, "They need not manage these operations alone, however, as this Handy unit is designated to serve as the Overseer's personal assistant. Now, if you could propose a candidate or two…"
Everyone looked at each other. But then a dusky-skinned boy with a pug nose and a square chin stepped forward. He was muscular and tall. The exact kind of guy who picked on a short, scrawny nerd like Jim back in high school.
"I'll do it," the meathead announced, folding his arms, "I'll be the Overseer."
"Yeah?" Bruce leaned over, gesturing towards him, "And who the hell are you?"
The meathead squinted, walking over to Bruce and poking him hard in the chest.
"My name is Howard Haley," He said, poking in time with each word, "And don't you forget it, bub."
"Oi, hands off, ya big galoot," Bruce smacked his hand away, smoothing down his denim jacket.
"Oh, ya wanna rattle, that it?" Howard grabbed the front of Bruce's jacket, yanking him forward.
"Obviously!" The dark-haired girl interjected loudly, drawing everyone's attention as she pushed out from the crowd, "We can't leave leadership up to a bunch of stupid machismo boys. Look at 'em, already ready to tear each other apart!"
The girl turned towards the crowd, gesturing to herself.
"So I nominate myself, Cat Williams, for Overseer," She said with a smile.
"Yeah, no. We fellas ain't gonna listen to some gal," Howard nodded, releasing Bruce's jacket and practically tossing him aside, "And it's awful unladylike to be yelling and carrying on like that."
"Oh, put a lid on it, you vacant wet rag," Cat sneered, "You're just proving my point even more."
"Smart-mouthed gals like you shoulda stayed in the kitchen," Howard sneered back.
"Yeah? How 'bout I fix you a knuckle sandwich?" Cat raised her fists.
"Right-o, uh," Jim cleared his throat, moving fowards to step between them as Howard also raised his fists, "Let's all just cool it for a second, alright? This isn't the time or place for—"
"Outta the way, small fry," Howard moved to shove him aside, "I owe this chick a shiner."
"Lemme at the rube. I can take him," Cat growled, jumping in place over Jim's shoulder.
"Would you just knock it off already?!" Jim yelled, pushing them both back and away, "Haven't you guys had enough death and violence for one day?! The world's just exploded out there!"
Both Howard and Cat fell silent at this, fists dropping almost immediately. Even Bruce chewed on the end of his cigarette, eyebrows raising. Jim looked down angrily. Or, sadly. Or something in between. Both, maybe. Maybe a lot of things at once.
"I just… c'mon…" He mumbled weakly, covering his face with his hands, "Let's just do this vote thing and get this over with. I just wanna get this over with…"
"Very well," Mister Handy finally spoke up, having hovered quietly throughout, "Our proposed candidates for Overseer of Vault 31 are as follows; Howard Haley and Catherine Williams. In a moment, the voting shall—"
"Wait, third option!" Bruce interrupted, "Add a third name to the ballot!"
"Don't bother. Who's gonna vote for you?" Howard scoffed.
"Not me," Bruce quickly corrected him, "Him."
A beat passed before Jim looked up, feeling eyes on him. He turned around, facing the crowd, most of whom stared at him.
"I think Jim Alden should be the Overseer," Bruce sniffed, folding his arms, "Seems like the only guy here with enough of a brain for the job."
"Very well, I have amended the ballot," Mister Handy announced, "I shall now conduct the vote, if there are no further interruptions.
Jim just blinked, trying to wrestle down his emotions enough to understand what was actually happening. Mister Handy called for votes for Howard, of which there were only a handful. Then it called for Cat, and she received a couple of votes from some girls. But then Jim's name was called, and the overwhelming majority of the crowd raised their hands.
"I believe there is no need for a precise count, due to the landslide victory in this case," Mister Handy announced before hovering over beside Jim, finally not blocking the elevator, "Congratulations, Overseer. And welcome again to Vault 31."
