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Erik clutched his key-card with a sweaty hand.
He nervously swallowed as he walked up to the white plasteel door. His eyes read the numbers that was registered to his name.
155. His new room.
It wasn't the room that troubled him, though. It's what was waiting for him inside. Who, to be precise, was waiting for him inside.
Slowly, he slid the key-card through the slit of the scanner, and the door opened with a faint beep. Erik took a deep breath and walked in.
White. Everything was white. The floors, the ceiling, and furniture. Seven square metres of neon-lit white tiles, including the toilet cubicle. It was like being in a prison cell.
A cell he'd be sharing with his breeding partner for the next three years, until his mandatory contribution to the program was over.
She was sitting on the bed, still dressed in a labcoat and watching a movie on the small television that hung on the wall. A pretty redhead with a matching set of freckles dotting the top of her cheekbones. Her bright green eyes, full of life, gleamed with amusement as she watched the grainy feed play her show.
Movies, vids, motion-pictures. They weren't live broadcasts, they all knew that much, just prerecorded films taken from the vault archives. There were thousands of movies to watch, at least, to keep their leisure hours occupied.
"Hello there." Erik greeted.
The woman looked at him and smiled warmly. "Hi."
She had just finished watching an episode of ¡La_Fantoma!, and she picked up the remote to switch the thing off. Erik knew her name, having been briefed by the program director prior to his assignment to this room. He knew, but he didn't want this experience to become unpleasant by behaving so abruptly.
So, he politely introduced himself. "I'm Erik Weiss."
"Felicia Night." The woman replied, "I know who you are, sir. I worked under you as an intern in BIA. Your commendation helped me get assigned to CROSS."
"Oh?" Erik said, keeping his demeanor as friendly as possible. "Well then, congratulations. I'm glad to have helped."
"Please…" Felicia scooted over and patted to the spot next to her, "Sit."
"Don't mind if I do." He said, accepting the invitation. Erik let the door slide shut behind him, but left it unlocked should the woman have second thoughts about their interaction.
For a few minutes, they both sat there in awkward silence. It was understandably difficult for the two to proceed, given the circumstances. Erik did his best to try and keep things civil and get things moving, but not at the expense of his partner. He made a decision to act gentlemanly, in spite of how the program demeaned the experience to the point that it was little more than a transaction.
"We don't have to do this, if you don't want to." He offered.
Felicia appreciated the man's thoughtfulness, but she knew something had to happen that night or there would be consequences. She pointed at the camera fixed at the corner of the ceiling. Erik noticed it for the first time and felt his blood pressure rise. "If we don't do this, there will be a large deduction of my credit. I won't be able to buy anything in the market. I'll starve."
There was no abundance of food in the Vault. Everyone had a fixed amount of rations that they could purchase at the market or mess hall, a precaution implemented to avoid over-consumption. It was just enough to give them the strength they needed for the hours of the day till their next meal, but never further.
Credits were the currency in the Vault, earned and spent just like the old money. However, there were certain laws in the Vault that, when broken, required compensation as punishment.
Such laws applied to the Breeding Program, apparently. The cameras were the only way the Vault would know that its dwellers were not in violation of the law. Erik understood this, but chafed at it nonetheless.
"I understand." He said, "It is expected of us...but it doesn't need to be unpleasant."
The faint moans and grunts from rooms opposite of theirs were hard to ignore, and the two tried their very best to tune out the noise. Erik took the remote out of her hands and switched on the television, taking a moment to select a recording of one of the best classical soothing jazz songs available, before trying to come to an understanding.
As the song played, Erik slowly drew Felicia in for a kiss. She hesitated at first, but gradually realized what he meant to do. Their lips met, and she mumbled in his mouth a breathless "thank you."
He stripped her of her clothing, then himself. Carefully, he set her up in a position she'd be most comfortable in before proceeding.
Behind a screen far away from the dormitories, a breeding program operator looked on with an amused smirk as he watched Erik and Felicia having sex. Having recorded their names on his evaluation chart, he verified their performance then added each a hundred credits to their accounts. Should they manage to conceive, the reward would be increased to two hundred. A successful birth would amount to five hundred credits, each.
A fellow operator looked over his shoulder, later commenting after watching for a few minutes. "Music to set up the mood, and a little foreplay. The guy's old fashioned." There were others who did the same that night, but were not as successful as Erik and Felicia in getting their partner's cooperation, leading to a one-sided and miserable experience.
"He's a fucking romantic." His colleague replied, "A keeper, for sure. Give him three years, the two would probably be married by then."
"Nah, he'll get over her in less."
"Oh? Wanna bet?"
"Sure. A hundred credits, take it or leave it."
"I'll take it. See you in three years." The operators shared a laugh and got back to work.
In the room just beside Erik's, at 156, a breeding pair had just finished their transaction. It was Lane Simmons and Wilhelm Weiss. The two friends had drifted apart in the time they spent living in the Vault, but found an awkward re-connection as they were assigned as partners in the dormitory. Thankfully their interaction, for the most part, was a pleasant experience.
But sexual relations between friends, as history would love to point out, complicated things.
"So..." Lane said, trying to air out the tension. "You heading back to the lab?"
Wil didn't answer right away. He was too busy staring at her ass while she struggled to fit them through the fabric of her underwear. Lane had been active in the fitness center lately, and all the work she did there seemed to be paying off. "If you keep that up, I might just be here all night."
Lane looked at him over her shoulder, saw his entranced stare and shook her head as she hid the redness creeping into her face. "I had a feeling things would get weird when they signed me up with you." She tugged at her skirt until it was well above her legs and hips. Finally, she put on her suit and fixed her messy hair.
She felt him brush against her as he moved to fetch his shirt from the floor, "Oh come on, don't talk like that. We both had fun, right?"
Lane nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"There's nothing weird here. Just two consenting adults doing their part in ensuring the survival of the human race." Wil mused, "And on the plus side, I think that was a good way to unwind after all we've been through."
"Well, since you put it that way…" Lane said as she leaned over the desk, deliberately thrusting her ass up for him to see. "I'm still a little wound up. Would you mind helping me out with that?"
His grabby hands were quick to act, and Wil hiked up her skirt as he moved behind her. "Not at all."
She took off her glasses and braced herself against the furniture, "By the way, it's hardly consensual when sex becomes a mandatory requirement for living in the Vault."
"It's fine by me." Wil said as he sheathed himself inside her.
"I'm…" Lane said, feeling her breath hitch as he began to move his hips back and forth. "…sure it is."
Wil leaned forward until his mouth was next to her ear, "You'll get used to it."
An hour later, Colonel Stern visited the breeding program control center for an inspection. The overseer watched the many monitors displaying the feeds of every room in the dormitories. "How's our first batch of breeders doing?"
"It could be worse." Dr. Dee Bella, the program director, shared her opinion with her superior. "But for the most part, I think it's going well so far."
"Any complications?" Stern asked.
"I can't say they're all happy about it, if that's what you're asking. Nobody likes being told when and where they should have sex, colonel." Dr. Bella reminded him, "I know you don't."
"I don't care if they like it or not. I'm not here to make friends, doctor." Stern crossed his arms as he stared at the screen displaying the credit allocation system moving funds into various dweller accounts following their cooperation. "I'm here to keep the American people alive, and in essence, the human race. If the program works well for the Vault, it stays."
"Duly noted." The doctor said, "If there's nothing else, sir…"
Stern nodded, "Keep up the good work, doc…" He turned away and left the office, heading down the levels to inspect the work of the specialists handpicked to continue the work Vault-Tec was doing at Vault 115. Named Project Achilles, the goal of the project was to create vat-grown genetically engineered bodies to replace mankind's obsolete forms.
These bodies each possessed a hybrid nervous system; one human cortex, and one machine. The project, with the use of a brain scanning instrument called a CSID or cortical-stem imprint duplicator, aimed to transfer a subject's consciousness onto the hybrid's body without going through the complex process of brain transplant. Everything; from the smallest memory to the most complex aspect: personality; had been laid out just waiting for a willing test subject.
Colonel Stern was not one to argue the ethics of the project, seeing promise in its purpose when he was the one running it.
But Vault-Tec's results were far from favorable, and so Stern made it a priority to build the project back from the ground up. The US government had experimented and succeeded in creating seamless transitions with organic and mechanical interfaces before- with robobrains and cyberdogs. This project, needless to say, was a hell of a lot more complicated.
"Report." He said upon exiting the elevator. The research and storage facility, large as a military aircraft hangar and cool like an early autumn's breeze, was abuzz with activity. Four MP's stood at attention as the colonel walked in, and Dr. Jack Holiday, the head researcher put in charge of Project Achilles, joined in step with him as they discussed the team's progress.
"Good evening, colonel." Holiday greeted, "You're just in time for our first test on live subjects."
"Your first? I gave you a month, Dr. Holiday. I was expecting results."
"A month to reverse-engineer Vault-Tec's technologies for this project to better work for our cause." Holiday corrected, "We did just that, and now the real work begins. Follow me, please."
"Hmph." The colonel growled, obviously displeased with the scientist's words. "Proceed."
Dr. Holiday brought the colonel to one of the vats, which held one of the hybrids in stasis. This was the first time Stern saw a hybrid in person, and he found the sight of the creature impressive. Through the thick glass that covered its pod, submerged in nutrient goop and fed with all manner of tubes inserted into the metallic sockets under its torso, the colonel could see that the hybrid retained much of its human-like features. It had a face of a man, and a body of one. Possessing more muscle mass and a reinforced skeleton, it was far larger than the average human.
Dr. Holiday noticed the awed expression on the colonel's face and said, "Colonel Stern, meet Number One."
"Couldn't think of a better name?" The colonel asked.
"If the test succeeds, we'll give it one." The doctor promised, motioning for his team to flush out the goop and fetch the hybrid from its pod.
"Is it alive? I thought I saw it breathing."
Holiday nodded, "It's alive, but its brain's in a state of low alertness, kind of like someone being in a coma. The difference is that the hybrid's a blank slate, like a fetus in its final stage of development."
The sweet scent of carbohydrates and proteins assaulted the colonel's nostrils as the pod was drained of its fluids. The pod's sprinklers opened with a faint swish as they cleaned the pod's passenger in preparation for its procedure. Once that process was finished, the pod was lowered down to the testing floor by a machine that resembled a warehouse forklift.
The pod's door opened with a loud pop, and the team assembled with all their assorted equipment to proceed with the next phase of the test. A machine, bearing a human brain in a jar, was wheeled into the testing platform.
"What is that thing?" The colonel inquired.
"Oh this?" Dr. Holiday replied, "This is one of hundreds of human brains stored in this facility. They were supposed to be shipped off to Big Mountain, but as you can imagine, that never happened. These brains would act as personality templates for the CSID to duplicate and imprint on the hybrids."
"I see." Stern said, "But did you at least take a look at the donor's history? For all we know, that could be the brain of a serial killer on death-row. I won't have a superhuman hybrid going on a murderous rampage in this Vault."
"Don't worry, colonel. I did my homework." Holiday assured him, "This one's from a certain Gavin West, and from what I saw in his file I'd describe him as your average, mild-mannered citizen. A perfect place to start. And I'd imagine that in the event of a complication, we can rely on the MP's to handle that for us."
The CSID, a large machine resembling a surgery room's operating lamp, was brought in. Number One was hooked up to imprint duplicator, and the personality template was loaded up to a computer. Dr. Holiday synced up his pip-boy, saying. "Okay, is the camera rolling?" He looked at the aforementioned camera, fixed on its stand and set to record the first test, and proceeded to upload the template into the duplicator.
"Alright, Project Achilles Live Testing no. 1. Date: September 23, 2079. Dr. Jack Holiday, Head Researcher, presiding." He projected the imprint onto the hybrid's auxiliary cortex, initiating the neural handshake sequence which led to the hybrid's forming of a perfect copy of Gavin West's personality template. The procedure took less than five minutes to finish, but what the team wanted to see was how seamless the transition from software to hardware was.
"Ten minutes and still counting." Holiday observed the hybrid as it twitched and its sleep. The minutes ticked on, but the hybrid was gradually showing favorable signs of alertness. "Number One, slowly manifesting consciousness."
Colonel Stern took a step back.
The hybrid opened its eyes, showing irises of nordic blue, and blinked. Its massive chest rose and fell with its own rhythm, and every muscle tensed as the hybrid rose up from its metal bed. It sat up and looked around, bewildered by the blinding glare of the facility's lights and the noise of nearby devices.
Dr. Holiday was ecstatic, as were the rest of the team. The culmination of weeks of hard work and sleepless nights resulted in a fine transhuman specimen, which meant a brighter future for the dwellers in the Vault. The team of scientists swarmed over their creation, probing the hybrid immediately after its birth and disregarding what adverse effects their actions had on the creature.
"I think I'll name you...Adam." Holiday said, feeling sentimental at the moment.
In a flash, the creature grabbed the nearest scientist it could reach and hurled him screaming out of the testing platform. Holiday, fearing for his life, immediately backed away as the hybrid fought its way out of the pod. Whoever it grabbed, it either crushed or bludgeoned to death, showing how inhumanly strong it was and how menacing its personality had become.
"Adam?" Stern pulled out his sidearm and started shooting. "More like a fucking Frankenstein!"
The hybrid grunted as the bullets tore into its chest, shoulders and face. Nine rounds went into its body, but the hybrid did not fall. It growled out in a pained voice, an echo of someone who'd apparently had his brain taken from his head without his consent. "What have you done to me?!"
The MP's, each carrying a Wattz 2.0 laser pistol, moved in to neutralize the hybrid. Their weapons emitted a series of low-pitched whines as they fired, and the deadly streaks of light burned a path through the air until they hit their target. The hybrid, its face ruined from the colonel's shots, screamed and leaped across the facility with blinding speed. The beams cut through it, cauterizing its wounds wherever they dug past and leaving neat little holes all over the creature's body. It closed the distance between it and the most immediate threat- the soldiers- and tore into them as it did with the scientists.
Stern, seizing his chance, took careful aim and shot the hybrid at the back of its neck.
The creature halted in its advance, shuddered as though struck by lightning, and fell to the floor dead. The colonel had shot it through the auxiliary cortex that ran along the back of its spine, the one Achilles heel he observed in the hybrid in the brief and bloody demonstration.
Stern approached the hybrid's corpse amidst the bodies of dead soldiers and nudged it with his boot.
Dr. Holiday, overcoming his shock, crawled over to the camera that had been knocked over in his flight and switched it off. "Results nil."
"I beg to differ, doctor." Stern replied, holstering his pistol. "There are definitely some results here."
"I apologize for my oversight, colonel." Holiday said as the medical personnel moved in to assist the wounded and carry off the dead.
Showing what little leniency he had, Stern said with a shake of the head. "You had no way of knowing that the brain was taken from an unwilling subject. I should have expected as much from Vault-Tec. They're the devil's hands, and they've been busy."
"Well then, should I dispose of the brains, sir?"
Stern frowned, "I dunno. You're the doctor. What do you think?"
"It's too early to come up with a solid conclusion, sir. But I have a theory."
"Better than nothing, let's hear it." Stern said, crossing his arms.
"Judging from the spontaneous animosity generated by the hybrid upon waking up, I'd say a critical factor in its aggression was its final moments prior to brain extraction."
Stern had worked with scientists long enough to make sense of their complex use of the English language. "So Mr. West over here remembers the day he got his brain stolen. He's angry. Can't say I blame him." He paused, thinking on what to do with the templates. "You said there're hundreds of brains stored here?"
"Yes sir."
"And they've been in storage all this time?"
A nod from the doctor.
"Alright, here's what I want you to do." Stern said, coming to a decision. "I want you to find a way to interact with these personality templates. Talk to them, for lack of a better term. How you do it, I leave to your discretion."
"What do I tell them, colonel?"
Stern shrugged, "Be creative, doctor, but tell them the truth."
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