"I hope she isn't the candidate.", the clean room suit said to the Overboss.

The red head laughed aloud. "Sierra's only expertise is Nuka-Cola. That's probably why our actual candidate has chosen to become a candidate."

Sierra was talking to the sole permanent resident of possibly the only private Vault-Tec designed vault on the planet.

"She tried to convince him to hang on for her sake. But even after centuries, fan girling over your own work is only going to get you so far."

"Fan girling?", the Institute member asked.

The Overboss dismissed the question with a shake of her head.

"Fine.", the clean room suit. "So what's this one's talent?"

The Overboss turned on her. "You're an inductee as well."

"And thank you for that.", the Mechanist replied. "Oh, wait a minute! Did you think I was objecting? No, Director. I was just curious."

The Overboss considered her. "Just do your job when it's needed and we'll all be fine."

Sparks gave a conciliatory beep.

The Overboss shrugged. "Fine. I expect you'll all be back underground before the Minutemen phase of this operation takes over.

Sierra Petrovita came back to the two. "General...he's ready to hear you out. I/"

"Tried to convince him to stay?", she asked.

Sierra looked down. "Can you blame me? But if I could, then they wouldn't be here now, would they?" The woman gestured to the gathered Institute personnel and their equipment.

The Overboss nodded. She placed a hand on Sierra's shoulder and then approached the only other person she knew was alive from the pre-war era. Nick Valentine's status pending. "Close the door on your way out."

"Mr. Bradberton.", she greeted.

"We meet again, Overboss. Or should I address you as General?", the head in a jar asked.

"Well, considering the only two choices in front of you, it's probably best if you call me Director.", she replied. "I am the current head of the organization known as the Institute. It was founded by the remnants of CIT that survived underneath the campus."

"The Commonwealth Institute of Technology actually survived the war?", the head in the jar exclaimed.

"And they are the only organization that has been advancing technology for the entire time since. For a time they were the post-war Commonwealth's boogey men, sending out robotic servants for resources - mostly tapping the flagging power grid the old fusion network makes up. But now that I've become General of the Minutemen and organized what passes for communities into a single society, they've started behaving as their motto should have had them behaving the entire time.

"Now, I'm not going to lie about the opportunity I am offering. The Institute may be a community of the Commonwealth but it is cut-off from it. It is entirely underground. Its society cannot cope with casual dalliances with outsiders and may drift further into reclusivness. It isn't a private vault, and you would have other people of your caliber of intellect to interact with though.

"The Institute doesn't invite many people from the surface to join them. The candidate has to be clearly extraordinary. But my council has reviewed your work - your real work in quantum chemistry and biocompositry, not just Nuka-Cola and became...impressed. So they have extended you an offer of membership. If you're willing to start nearly on the bottom and work your way up. And not simply die like you've asked before."

John-Caleb scoffed. "And how is this vaunted Institute going to free me from this self-appointed prison?"

The Overboss crouched besides the panel his head was embedded in and started pointing. "That is one of our new recruits, the Mechanist. She, with the aid of a few of these synths...er, synthetic people that the Institute built, is going to wire you into that. That, sir, is a robobrain, which will allow you to roam around and explore while still being the you that exists right now. Once you're at the Institute proper, you will be given the option to be transplanted into a type three synth body. You may have to take a sentience test at that point, and trust me - you will want to pass it. But at least you'll have mobility, a society, actual work, and if you want it a real body again.

"Again: if I can convince you not to choose death. We'd hate to lose the talent."

Bradberton considered it. "What's in it for you?"

"Does there have to be something in it for me? I did come from the same pre-war world you did.", the Overboss reminded. "But in all honesty, I have a responsibility to the Institute to promote its breadth of knowledge. So delivering you to the Institute is just my job."

"And the inventions I promised you for depowering this console and ensuring my demise?"

The Overboss stood and re-entered his line of site. "Anything capable of a nuclear explosion is going directly into Minutemen custody. Nuclear explosions are illegal in the Commonwealth by dictate of me, myself, and I. Anything else will be examined by the Institute for contamination before being inducted in, along with yourself."

The head in a jar became quiet for quite some time. "You have real work for me?"

The Mechanist nearly leapt in. "I saw your calculations for solvent reconstitution. What we could do to an artificial organism's circulatory system/"

The Overboss raised her hand. "And that's one of the projects we can speak about on the surface. Trust me, we're working on something no scientist will want to miss out on."