Chapter One-- Out of Sync

Boring Legalese:

Legalese and Disclaimers: I do not own the Fallout Series. That belongs to Bethesda Softworks. DEVO belong to themselves, not me (but they're welcome to hang out here all they want, any time). If asked by either part to cease and desist, that's that.

Furthermore, no real life person in the story is being portrayed or intended to be portrayed as "This is the real deal". Anything written is extrapolated from interviews, videos, my own imagination, and intuition. Don't sue me, bro!

 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure
--Marianne Williamson



War. War never changes.

There are those who have said that Mankind reached the peak of its intellectual, spiritual, and artistic prowess in the 1950s, and that we as a species began our inevitable backslide into degeneracy as a whole shortly after. The events of the past two hundred and twenty years are proof of this.

This theory, called 'De-evolution', was brought to people by five young men who saw what our fate might otherwise be. Calling themselves Devo, they sought to bring warning, and perhaps change, to the world before it was too late.

As is so often the case with the words of men too wise before their time, the message was rejected, ridiculed. Unable or unwilling to watch as humanity marched in lockstep towards its final stupidity, Devo withdrew from the world, and took their message with them.

But not everyone ignored their philosophy. A small group of men and women took these words to heart, and kept them true, and as the centuries passed, they began spreading their wisdom once more. Devo returned from wherever they'd secluded themselves, and founded a community of like-minded mutants. The word began to spread once more, and people from as far as the New California Republic, Boston, and the remnants of Washington DC began to make their way to Akron.

Not all is well, however. Recently, Akron has shut itself off from the world. The huge gates closing the city off every winter have remained sealed this spring. Akron is a major trade hub in Ohio, far from the lingering radioactive deathtraps full of super mutants and other horrors. The Outcast Brotherhood of Steel passes through there every spring... and these warriors from the original Brotherhood won't take kindly to being balked.

What will become of both Akron and Vault 49 are, at this point in history, unknown. Nor is it known how Devo managed to survive for over two hundred years, seemingly asleep as humanity faced destruction several times over.

Two things, however, remain constant: we are all Devo, and war...

...war never changes.



"Come on, you stupid piece of junk...just...goddamn...work already!"

I pushed the broken radio away in disgust. One more second of handling the damn stupid thing, and I was going to wind up giving it a 'Luddite massage', as Dad would say. Right now, smashing it didn't seem like a bad idea, except, of course, that it was the only radio system that the Vault had. "Makes perfect sense," I said to myself. I leaned back in my chair and stared up at the ceiling. "I wonder what super-genius decided to give our vault exactly one of everything even remotely important?"

No answer came, of course, least of all from the worthless piece of old pre-war shit on the workbench in front of me. Tech repairs were my area of expertise, so it was rare that something even remotely thwarted me like this. When it did thwart me, I went from mild-mannered vault vixen to black-tongued terror. My brother had told me once "Shae, you're one of the sweetest, kindest women I know, but when you get mad, that mouth of yours could turn the plants in the atrium dead black."

I couldn't argue that. If swearing was an art form, I'd be one of the Old Masters. Nowadays, though, I seemed more interested in new and almost avant-garde compositions combining old favorites ("fuck") with more creative and elaborate set-pieces, such as "Fuck me with a stick sideways and call me George" and "cocksucking son of a sphyllitic centaur"

I didn't go around flinging these words about in casual conversation. I didn't go up to my father and say "Hey Dad, how the fuck was your day?" or tell old Mrs. Wentzel, "Hope you're doing goddamned fine today, ma'am." In normal conversation, when I wasn't pissed off, I didn't swear. Much. But rile me up, and let's just say it was a wonder that the old Vault door stayed intact as long as it had. That damn thing had fallen off its track about twenty-five years ago, and now it lay askew in the cavern leading to the Vault entrance. Just another thing about our wonderful little corner of post-nuclear America.

Needless to say, my coarse verbal creativity didn't endear me to many. Not that much about me did to begin with. I was always the odd woman out. This was just one more thing that set me apart from everyone else. I supposed I could have changed who I was and made myself more popular, but what was the point, really? I wasn't going to be something that I wasn't, and if the Vault ninnies didn't like it, they could get fucked, and certainly not by me.

I sighed and pulled the magnifying goggles off my head. Setting them aside, I brushed my bangs out of my eyes, then stood up. It was time for lunch. Besides, I could use a nip. Maybe Vargas had another bottle of whiskey. I was far from a heavy drinker, but I still enjoyed the occasional snort of booze.

****

"No such luck," he said, shaking his head when I asked. "Traded my last bottle for some cigarettes. You want one?" he shook one out of the pack and stuck it in his mouth, then offered the pack to me. I shook my head.

"Nah, you know I don't smoke. Thanks anyway."

He chuckled. "Limiting your vices to drinking and swearing, eh? Not that you do much of either. Just ignore those twits who complain about it." When the Overseer wasn't looking, he plopped extra slice of brahmin loaf on my plate, and winked.

I smiled. "You're going to make me fat, Vargas."

"Naw, jes' keep you healthy looking, Shae. Bone is for the dog. Meat is for the man." Vargas was an outrageous flirt, and based on that one might assume he'd slept with half the ladies in the vault. Truth was though while his eyes wandered, his heart--and presumably his dick--belonged only to his wife, Rose.

I smiled, feeling my face warm up a little. Well, I was 5'7" and one hundred fifty pounds of healthy. I'd never been slender, In times before the war, that would have counted against me. Now, two-hundred thirty years later, it was considered an asset. Still, my mouthiness and way of living life con brio put most people off. You'd think we still lived back in the 1950s, or something, when ladies were expected to wear pearls and gloves and clean the house in high heels. I thanked Vargas under my breath for the extra food, then took a seat near the old jukebox. I kept that thing running, too. Barely.

If you were a visitor to what was left of our Vault--and we did get them, mostly traders from out of Akron--you'd think we had some kind of fetish about conformity. We were racially diverse, yes, but otherwise, everything seemed to have an unwritten rule about it, and I, of course, violated most of them. Usually it wasn't intentional. Or it was with regards to something stupid, like the fact I wore my brown hair long and straight past my shoulders instead of bleaching it blonde and wearing it in a soft wavy bob, or eschewing nail polish (it flaked off and got into the delicate electronics I worked with) or the fact that my hobbies were more aligned to reading, history, and animals than getting married and helping to repopulate the wasteland. As far as I was concerned, that was the last fucking thing we needed to do. So to speak.

I was the Vault misfit--one of them, anyway--and that wasn't likely to change I usually didn't mind it too much. I had enough friends--fellow social mutants, as we called ourselves--to keep from being lonely. I had my dad, and David (also known as Dave) my brother. Vargas and Rose were friends. And the Overseer, while he could be a bit of an old poop sometimes, was fond of me and I knew it. 

There were times, though, when I saw the more socially adept citizens of our happy little half-assed Vault (so called because ever since our hydroponics labs had failed--thanks, Vault-tec--we'd begun topside farming and raising brahmin with aid of some of the mutant folks from Akron.) socially, but that was a rairty.  I just didn't fit in.

 Also, as I'd mentioned earlier--the Vault door had fallen off when I was three and hadn't ever been put back to rights. It would have taken a Super Mutant to put it back on track, and since from what I knew they were not terribly inclined to be friendly to 'normals' even if they weren't brutal and violent, I doubted that it ever would be.

We were pretty lucky, though. All things considered, it could have gone loads worse for us. We could have starved or had our Vault raided by Raiders or Super Mutants or the Outcast Brotherhood of Steel could have decided that we were worth more to them dead than as trading partners. Even the mutant community off to the east in Akron could decide that we posed a threat to them or have any other reason to simply curbstomp our Vault to tomato paste and be done with it. Only a great fool didn't consider such things, but thankfully, they'd never given us true cause to worry.

That brought me to why I was struggling so mightily to fix our one and only radio. It was getting into Spring now, and soon the snow and mud of Winter would dry up and the caravans would begin passing through once more. Every Spring, the huge steel gates closing Akron away for the winter season would open, admitting trade back and forth. Caravans would pass through on their way south to Kentucky or far west to Toledo, east into Pennsylvania. Those gates were the stuff of legend: twenty feet high, and made of steel scavenged from the old factories, dead vehicles, and the occasional menacing robot that wandered too close to the range of the sharpshooters on the walls.

Every year, the traders would call on the radio, letting us know they were coming, but of course with the radio broken, there was simply no way. Just as importantly, should either they or we need the assistance of the other, there was no way to field or send distress calls. It's what had me so wound up, other than I hated being thwarted by technology. I didn't know too much about the mutant leaders, only that it was rumored they had a rather unusual philosophy and that they had, somehow, been alive since before the war. Long before the war, and yet the oldest of them seemed to be barely approaching forty, or a bit older.

That right there was sufficiently relevant to my own interests. If it was true, what sort of things had they seen and done? It was amazing! Not that I'd really get a chance to see their city. It was strictly an "Invitation Only" sort of thing, and I doubted that one scruffy tech nerd was suddenly going to get an invitation for tea and Fancy Lad Snack Cakes any time soon.

I finished up my lunch and piled my silverware on the tray. As I was carrying it to the scullery, I heard someone call my name.

"Shae, might I have a moment of your time, young lady?"

"Of course, Overseer." Overseer Redden was tall, slightly chubby, and graying prematurely at the temples. Lines seamed his brown face, the marks of care in a harsh world. He could be a fussbudget, but he cared about us, and that was what mattered most. I followed him to his office, a place to which I'd been only rarely, and once we were inside, he asked me to have a seat.

Once I was seated, he said, "Is that radio still giving you trouble?"

I nodded. "Yep. without getting into specifics, sir, I would bet di--err, dollars to doughnuts that it's the shortwave receiver, or possibly the--"

He raised his hand. "All right, I get it. I understand. It isn't too often that something electronic defies your attempts at fixing it. That's part of the problem though. Our friends in Akron can't contact us, nor we them. And now, something else is going on over there." He leaned forward and in a low voice, he said, "The gates haven't opened yet. For anyone."

"How do we know that?" I asked. I had a suspicion, though, which was confirmed when he said, 'We have scouts in the area, just as the folks over there no doubt send their scouts over here. That might not sound terribly trusting or friendly, but it is what it is. Neither our Vault that Isn't a vault nor their community are great fools, Shae. Allies, yes, but not fools. This is the wasteland, after all."

"Understood, but what do you want me to do?" I was a techie, not a secret agent. If he was suggesting that I go over there and spy out the reason for the unopened gate, he was better off sending someone with more finesse.

"I want you to go over there," he said simply.

"But--"

He held up a hand. "Hear me out, please. We want for you to talk to them directly. No sneaking, no subterfuge. Approach the gates. There's an intercom there. Use it, then wait. They'll either let you in, or they won't. If they don't, come back. For God's sake, Shae, don't argue with them or cuss them out, okay?"

He knew me too well. "Okay." I took a deep breath. I could have asked "Why me?" but really, I already knew. I was socially a mutant. Redden figured I'd be more likely to be accepted tan someone who was a total 'normie'. "Instead, I asked, "When do I leave?"

"You can go tomorrow morning," he said, "but if you set out in the next hour or so, you can make it there by sunset. Shae... please don't take this the wrong way, but you really are the best person for the job."

I nodded. "I know. Well. best I get going. I want to pack a few small things before I go, and tell Dad and Dave."

"Right. You're dismissed. and Shae? Please be careful. You might feel expendable, but you really aren't."

That made me smile a little. "Thank you, sir."

Once I'd packed and let my dad and brother know what I was doing and why, I had to get going. Neither was happy about it, and Dave said, "Sis, I'll come with you if you want. Stay overnight, then come back in the morning."

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm fine, Dave. Really. Dad needs your help in the ;lab more than I need an escort." Dad was a biologist, and his research involved keeping the brahmin we raised and the plants we grew hale and hearty. One of the females was about to give birth. The two-headed cattle were strange for sure, but had adapted marvelously to the rigors of the nuclear wasteland. Because of his efforts, we had brahmin hides, milk, meat and cheese, both for ourselves, and to trade.

Dad said, "Be careful, young lady. And have respect. if what I hear is true, those fellows running the place look barely older than your brother, but they're really over three hundred years old. That makes them your elders," he added with a half-joking smile.

"I promise, Dad. I'll behave, so long as no one pisses me off. I can't promise anything then... but I'll try."

"Guess I'll have to accept that, then." Hugs all around, then I picked up my back pack, shouldered it, and headed out.

****

The gates loomed ahead in the late afternoon sun. I'd made better time than expected. Most of winter's ice and snow were gone, and while the air was chilly enough that I could see my breath, the sun made it feel warmer than it was.  I was still glad to have my Vault issue coat on over my utility jumpsuit, though.

Here too was the intercom, set into the wall of the outer rampart. It was jury-rigged to be sure, but I couldn't argue with the workmanship: neat, efficient, safe, and as I found out when I pushed the button, quite workable.

I saw figures pacing about on the wall. Now seeing me, they all grew still, watching me. I did my best to not feel intimidated, knowing that one of those sharpshooters could easily decorate the wall here with my brains. I forced myself to wait patiently.

Finally, there was a voice. Wary and a little raspy, but a voice all the same. "Whats your business with Akron, normie?"

"I'm from Vault 49. I was sent by Overseer Redden to find out why the gates are still closed."

Silence. then brief discussion that I couldn't make out. Now a different voice, clear, but irritable. 'Because we've been calling you people for three fucking days. So we kept the gates shut, figuring it would get your attention. Looks like it worked." A pause, then with wry sarcasm, he added, "How do you like being ignored, eh?"

"Well, excuse me, Mr Crabby Pants," I said, feeling my metaphorical feathers ruffle. "Our radio is out of order. I've been working on it for the past fucking week." I wasn't pissed, but I was annoyed, and if some guard goon was going to be a dick, then he could have a taste right back.

More discussion. Then, the second voice spoke again, saying, "All right, spudess. We're letting you in. Just keep in mind: We're watching you. Don't start anything, and there won't be anything."

'Spudess?' Well, at least they didn't call me 'Scum;'. The gates parted open, letting me in under the watchful eyes of the gate guards.

****

End of Chapter One Status

Shae Montgomery Richardson

Karma: Good

Karmic Title: Sentinel

Level 3

Age: 28

Tag Skills: Repair, Science, Small Guns

S.P.E.C.I.A.L: Strength: 5 Perception; 7 Endurance: 5 Charisma: 4 Agility: 6 Intelligence: 7 Luck: 5

Perks:

Daddy's Girl
Just like dear old Dad, you’ve devoted your time to intellectual pursuits. You gain an additional 5 points to both the Science and Medicine skills.

Gun Nut
You are obsessed with using and maintaining a wide variety of conventional firearms. With each rank of the Gun Nut perk, you gain an additional 5 points to the Small Guns and Repair skills.