Begin Recording
SRB
Recording by Scribe Ellison
I'd left the Synth Retention Bureau for last because after everything I'd seen with the Railroad I wasn't sure how polite I could be to the people who hunted down terrified synths. I haven't told you all the stories, Scribe, but as a Railroad agent I'd met several synths, heard their stories, and helped protect them from reclamation parties of gen-two synths. None of them had rated a courser, thank goodness. But they were so afraid of being dragged back to the Institute to have their minds rewritten. Some synths do want the implanted human memories scrubbed out of their head but others feel that their memories of their time on the surface are the only real things they have.
There are so many horrible things that happen to people in the wasteland, we should at least have the right to our own minds.
This was the only division with an armed synth guarding the entrance, and the first thing I heard inside was Justin Ayo threatening to 'knock some heads in robotics' and maybe bring some coursers to back up the threat. None of which made me feel any better.
Nobody rushed to greet me so I went for the most interesting thing in sight: a bank of screens on a wall and a blue-glowing table. The table was a map and I leaned over it, fascinated. It was in shades of blue and white but detailed like I've never seen. All the roads were shone, and the ruins and even the boats sunken off the coast. We'd been trying to make one using Piper's piecemeal map, prewar maps, and me going out to mark locations with my Pip-boy's mapping function, and here was the perfect map finished in front of me. I actually looked for a plug on the table, but there was nothing the Pip-boy could use to download data.
When I finally tore myself away I looked at the screens on the wall. Again blue and white, not like normal terminal screens. I saw unsteady images of ruins, wobbly enough that it was hard to tell where they were. A crumbling skyscraper. A building with raider platforms built up beside it. A bit of empty wilderness. The Diamond City market! It was a strange angle but I could see part of the Power Noodles roof and all the electrical wiring strung across the sky with birds sitting on it. The Institute really was watching Diamond City.
They were watching Sanctuary too. That feed was clearer, clear enough that I could see people sitting at one of the picnic tables. Some of them wore recognizable hats—Piper, Preston and Mama Murphy. The ones without hats certainly could be Sturges and the Longs, and from the way Piper was hunched over her notebook I could guess she was writing an article about Quincy.
And the Institute was watching. How? I'd climbed all over those roofs fixing shingles; I'd've seen a camera.
Wondering how it was done was easier than wondering how long my son had been watching. We'd been attacked, several times. I'd been hauled home sick after the fight with Kellogg. The water purifier had broken once and only Doc Jenna had saved us all from puking our way to serious dehydration. There had been times when our lives, my life, was in danger and if Shaun was watching he hadn't done anything to help.
Since it was dinnertime and the division was mostly empty I got on the nearest terminal to see if I could find out more about how we were being watched, but I found other things instead.
Director Ayo's departmental notices were not encouraging. He also had a post about concealing 'sensitive information' from me, and one about concealing investigation into the missing synths from the rest of the Institute, and one about how everyone was supposed to be conserving power but the bureau members should take what they needed. Not bad things, necessarily, but not dripping with honesty and forthrightness.
Oh, and I found proof that Mayor McDonough really is a synth. Piper was right the whole time. And the SRB was considering just shutting him off because of the suspicion raised by Piper's article. McDonough was a conscious Institute agent, a copy of the real McDonough but he knew he was a synth. And apparently the Institute had some way to destroy his synth chip which would wipe out his mind and send his body into a quick decline. The way the post spoke of the guy—McDonough is political slime but nobody deserves to have his death coldly planned by the people he'd served for years.
There was a list of informants who'd reported runaway synths in exchange for caps. One of them was Carla. I felt very betrayed for a moment, then reason returned. Institute agents wouldn't say they were Institute agents; there was no way Carla knew who she was reporting to.
I noted the rest of the names in my Pip-boy. There was only one other I knew, another trader named Cricket. The number of chems Cricket uses, I could almost believe she'd report to the Institute to afford her next fix. One more thing for me to figure out once I got back to the surface.
The room also had a set of stairs down, and below I found a half dozen large glass tubes that I might not have realized were cells except that the room also held the Institute's synth programming machine.
It looks like a torture device. A band holds the synth by the neck while large needles pierce the spine and brainstem to connect to the synth chips. This thing is used to give the synth everything it knows, from the base data packet, things like how to walk and talk, to skills or adjusting the synth's programming. It can also wipe the mind completely. So not necessarily a torture device, but it can be one.
After seeing that I went to find Director Ayo and try to ask him questions without getting angry. He hadn't approached me but I recognized the division head by his outfit. An unattractive man, or maybe I just thought so because I'd heard him yelling before. He didn't look happy to see me.
"So. Here you are. Justin Ayo, acting director of the Synth Retention Bureau. I'll be up front with you, we're going to be keeping a close eye on you for the near future. Despite your relationship to Father, you're a bit of an unknown quantity. I'm sure you understand. There won't be any issues will there?"
"Don't think so." I said with the smile I used to give to co-workers who grumbled about the woman in their ranks.
"Good to hear. Now, Father has asked that I provide you with a brief overview of the Synth Retention Bureau. Our primary responsibility is the recovery of escaped synths that are hiding among the human population on the surface."
"Why would synths want to escape?" I asked with great innocence.
"Synths do not want! They might look like human beings, but they're machines. As to why they're escaping, that's currently under investigation. It isn't helped by the other divisions' habit of abandoning their half-programmed projects on the surface without documentation."
I opened my mouth to ask if he's asked the synths why, or maybe say something pointed about how I knew why synths wanted to escape because I had asked some of them, but he went on without giving me a chance. Which was definitely for the best.
Ayo continued, "Our main instrument is the courser, a third generation synth designed to operate on the surface. Coursers hunt down and reclaim synths that have escaped the Institute. They are highly self sufficient, trained in combat, infiltration and tracking. In a word, coursers are relentless. But you know all this since you've encountered one already. In fact, I'd very much like to know how you defeated it."
"About thirty Gunners softened it up for me."
He didn't like my answer. "Even so. Numbers of surface ruffians should not make a difference. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"
"How do you 'reclaim synths? That machine down there..."
"When a courser has located a rogue synth it uses that synth's recall code to render it inert. We then begin the delicate process of restoring the neural pathways to their original configuration. Yes, using that machine to repair the other machine. In those cases where the procedure is successful the synth returns to duty with no memory of its time on the surface. All too often we're unable to repair the damage and are forced to dispose of the unit entirely." he sighed.
"But if reclamation doesn't always work, why don't you just let them go if that's what they want?"
Ayo scowled. "Because, and I repeat, they are not humans who can want. They are Institute assets created to serve specific purposes. We created them to carry out our plans to build a bright future for humanity."
Ayo hasn't got Father's charisma but I heard in his voice the same belief. I nodded, "I see. I'll let you get back to work, Director Ayo."
I walked back into the central chamber and found the sun lamps in the ceiling had been turned off and a grid of tiny lights like stars shone down. Their light is the same wavelength as real moonlight and the white arches and balconies above me almost glowed. I sat down on a bench and watched the clear water flow under the glass floor under my feet. Around near the canteen people were talking and eating. I saw the boy sitting with Doctor Binet and a woman and young man, probably his wife and son.
It was so incredibly peaceful here, and I really needed to go home.
