So if McDonough really is only a functional mayor because the Institute is pulling his strings, is it right or wrong to cut him off? Is freedom really best? Em thinks so but maybe she's just been listening to the Railroad too much.

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Recording by Scribe Ellison

In the end my son wasn't a monster. Once he saw the Commonwealth, the world he'd helped build however unknowingly, he made changes. Slowly, one piece at a time. He had to write directives, and I was surprised when he asked me to help with the wording, though I couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was doing it to humor me. He tightened the rules for collecting test subjects to raiders—or volunteers but getting volunteers would necessitate communicating and nobody wanted to do that yet. And he cut Mayor McDonough loose. Not out of kindness, but because if the mayor no longer had to follow Institute orders he might be able to keep his position and continue to provide information from Diamond City.

McDonough was terrified, I thought the man might have a heart attack when the Director of the Institute walked into his office. Shaun didn't seem to notice, just spoke the way he always did. "The Institute is stepping down operations in Diamond City, including test subject acquisition. You will be expected to continue providing reports on any news of interest as long as you remain mayor, but all other orders are suspended indefinitely. Your shutdown circuit has been disabled."

The mayor stuttered, "What does that mean?"

My son looked a little put out. His patience for surface dwellers was limited to really just me. So I said, "It means no more orders to send people out to get eaten by super mutants because they know too much. No more orders at all. You can live your life."

I had expected this to be good news. Freedom is good news, right? But McDonough managed to get paler. He blustered, "You can't do this to me! The Institute owes me for sixteen years!" The idiot actually drew a pistol on us.

Shaun didn't even blink. Kill chip or not, he could still have dropped the mayor with a recall code and I don't think it occurred to him that a bullet is faster. "You have your position with its income, your life, and your 'freedom.'"

The quotes were clearly audible. I had an idea suddenly, "And an alliance with the Minutemen, if you'd like. We have a few people who managed the Castle back when it was practically a town. You've been mayor all this time; you know how to help Diamond City thrive. And Piper's going to get off your back now."

The mayor managed a sickly little chuckle and lowered the weapon. "That's something. I guess." His gaze sharpened. "Do the Minutemen support the Institute then?"

I answered, "No. Things are… uncertain. The Institute is changing and I'm not sure how things will turn out. Better for all of us I hope, including Diamond City."

We left the mayor to think out his life. Outside, I leaned on the railing above the noise and smoke of Diamond City. Shaun, even dressed as a drifter, looked out of place. He stood wrong, too still and self contained.

"Is that not evidence that synths need a guiding hand? He fell apart."

"That was not what I was expecting." I said with a sigh.

A small smile. "Doubt, Mother?"

"Always. But people want a lawyer who knows what she's doing, so I learned how to look like it. But I wasn't lying. I hope. McDonough couldn't have kept his position without knowing what he was doing so he can do the job for himself." I'd been shaken, though. Was the human McDonough such a worm? He'd figure it out, or he wouldn't. "Do you have to go back now, or do you want to risk market food and stay here? I think Piper's in Goodneighbor tonight, if that makes a difference."

Shaun was looking down with that scientist attitude. McDonough forgotten, observing the ordinary people of the city like they were ants in an anthill. I wondered why he'd bothered to come do this in person, so I asked.

"The boy said it was worth seeing the surface on more than one type of weather. Now, I'd like to visit Sanctuary."

I forgot how uncomfortable I'd been a minute ago. I'd wanted so much for my son to come to Sanctuary, to see what we'd built. It wasn't much compared to the wonders of the Institute but it was something we had in common, building civilizations.

So Shaun came here and walked down the street and saw the gardens and the little market and our animals. Saw how everybody welcomed me and welcomed him as my guest. We both got dinner and sat at one of the picnic tables with everybody.

No one knew who he was, except for Preston who realized immediately and hovered around with a questioning expression until I nodded to him to indicate all was well. Then he at least kept an eye on us from a few tables away.

And Mama Murphy knew. I came back from a run to the latrine to hear her saying, "...depends on you seeing things your whole life has made you blind to. You make a choice, and all you've built vanishes in fire and water right before your eyes, make another choice and it lives on forever."

Shaun didn't answer, just listened skeptically as people often do when Mama Murphy drops a prophecy on them. Seeing me returning Mama Murphy smiled at me and shuffled back to her armchair from which she presided over the meal.

My son gave me a look with eyebrows arched.

"I didn't tell her who you are. Mama Murphy takes chems and has visions and… says things like that."

"You don't believe those stories about powers granted by radiation, do you?"

I shrugged. "Not usually, but Mama Murphy always seems to know what's up. Maybe she really has the sight or maybe she just gets stoned and makes good guesses. What did she tell you?"

My son didn't answer, just asked, "Is every evening here like this?"

"Mmhm."

The sun was setting, painting everything orange. Most of Sanctuary's residents were gathered at the picnic tables or still in line at the cooking station where Tom ladled out soup. Bloatfly meat and tato, just the right amount of spicy, with cornbread on the side. At the table next to us Jimmy ate without looking at his food as he read a comic. Several other people had books, while others had gathered to talk. I heard a debate about the best spacing for mutfruit sprouts, a worried discussion of how to build defenses against airborne enemies, and a whispered debate about which was the most handsome single man at Tenpines. Two tables away there was a burst of squeals and laughter, the nurses begging Doc Jenna to stop describing some gross medical thing over dinner. At another table there was strumming on the stringed instrument optimistically called a guitar. We were in danger of a round of 'Granny's Old Armchair,' the favorite after-dinner song.

It was noisy and cheerful and alive. I turned around on the bench so I could lean back against the table. We sat there for a while, just watching mostly. Dogmeat came over and leaned on my knees. Since I had a guest nobody pulled me into conversation longer than a few quick, "Hey, General..?" questions.

Eventually the sun set and the air started getting chilly. Quietly Shaun asked, "Is there a place we can talk?"

I nodded, and stood up and my son followed me across the street. "This was our house, before the war. I have electricity. Usually I do." The switch on the wall did nothing. The generator was out again. I lit a few smaller lamps, turning up the light to illuminate the living room and kitchen. "Look around if you want. It's not what it was."

I refilled Dogmeat's water dish and started shedding my armor and gun harness, tossing my gear on the couch.

From the hallway I heard, "Even in your own home you have to wear all that?"

"Probably not. We don't get attacked all that often, I'm just so used to wearing it."

Silence, except the sound of Dogmeat flopping down on his bed.

I glanced over to see my son standing in the doorway of his own room. It was embarrassing suddenly. I'd felt like he should see the house, it's his history after all, but the room made over for a ten year old displayed just how much I'd expected to find that little boy. The feeling of my heart being on display was uncomfortable and I stuttered, "When I found out you weren't a baby anymore..." I shrugged. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

In the living room I pulled chairs up to the kitchen island and toggled a lamp to produce heat and put a kettle on top. "Ash blossom leaves, it's not real tea but it's all right."

When I sat down my son said, "There were several items for discussion at the directorate meeting. The completion of the Institute's reactor, my choice of successor and… why."

"Why?" I repeated.

"Some time ago I suffered a serious medical setback. Doctor Volkert found the cause and I have been under his care ever since. But we have reached the end of it, tried every experimental treatment we could devise. I am dying. I have a little time, enough to put things in order… I am sorry, Mother."

He said it so calmly, like it wasn't anything, like it wasn't the end of the world all over again. I was frozen for a moment while the room faded in front of my eyes. "No—no! You can't be—we've hardly met, after everything! Isn't there something you can do? Robotics builds people, can't they make you a new liver or whatever?"

"Sadly no." He tapped the back of his head. "It is here, placed just where it will do the most damage. Dean did make some suggestions but—become like Kellogg? No. I'll see the Institute's future secure and have no regrets. Except, perhaps, that I didn't have more time to know you."

The thought that came then was that there was never anything I could have done. It was all over before I got out of the vault. My family was over. I heard my own voice from very far away, "Make peace with the Commonwealth, you can still do that..." I was pleading, not really knowing what I was saying.

I think Shaun could tell just how badly I was falling apart. He stood up. "I should go. We'll talk later. I truly am sorry. This is not how I'd wanted to tell you."

My mouth said, "Make sure you're out of sight before using the relay or there'll be a panic." But I stood up and hugged my son.

He hugged me back, after a moment, but I had that familiar feeling that he knew this meant something to me but he didn't really understand why.