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X6-88 wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. He did that a lot when traveling with Emma. Mostly they got along just fine, especially since she left him at Sanctuary for the more … sensitive, ie pro-Synth missions and he dutifully pretended not to know what she was doing when she went off, Deacon in tow. With a bit of maneuvering and mutual diplomacy they managed to strike up something akin to a friendship, even if X6-88 insisted as a synth he wasn't capable of true sympathy. Even though there was far more than their different stances on synth rights that pulled them apart.
“Those magazines are worthless. Why do you insist on picking them up?”
Emma tucked the issue of the Unstoppables away for later reading.
“Because they're fun to read. I swear sometimes I don't know if I'm talking to you or Danse. Do you take turns with that stick up your arse?”
X6-88 acted as if he hadn't heard that last bit. He poked a dead ghoul with his rifle to make sure it really was deceased. Eventually he assessed that it was, due in no small part to the fact that it's head rolled off and under a table.
“I don't see their entertainment value. The plot is thin, the characters excessive.”
“Oh, don't be that way.” Emma said and pouted. The gesture didn't have the desired effect. X6-88 held her gaze unimpressed. It was an argument they had everytime Emma pulled out one of the comics she collected and they didn't need to have it in the middle of a formerly ghoul infested diner. Taking point Emma lead them to a recently abandoned raider camp, where they'd spent the night, before continuing in the morning. They holed up against the weather and shared some rations, heated up over a fire. X6-88 refused to play rock-paper-scissors to determine who'd take first watch. He frowned at her outstretched fist and got up to take the vantage point.
“It's comforting, you know?” she said as she made herself comfortable with her newest find. “Having a hero to look up to.”
“I wouldn't know.” X6-88 said without stopping to scan the field in front of him.
“Come on, even synths got to have someone they look up to. Courser with the best retrieval rate? Best synth of the year twelve times in a row? Who do you admire?”
“Personal admiration does not enhance effectiveness, it is an unnecessary feature.”
“But you have it?”
For the first time since they teamed up, X6-88 looked uncomfortable. She couldn't see his face, but the line of his shoulders was even straighter than usual.
“There was … one.”
A3-21 walked past, two recalled synths in tow. The dirt of the Commonwealth hadn't even managed to touch him in the short time the mission took him. X6-88 followed him with his eyes, recognising a job well done. His skin was still too waxen to be mistaken for human, making his missions often harder as he had to avoid detection by the populace above.
“Now there's a model robotics can be proud of.” Dr Zimmer said to one of his colleagues. Despite the fact that he didn't need to, X6-88 listened in on the conversation. He'd been ordered to await further instructions and remain in place. It wasn't like he could not listen.
“They really outdid themselves.” the other scientist agreed. “When Holdren told me they wanted to upgrade this 2.5 prototype instead of throwing it out with the others I thought he was mad. He was always fond of that model but pouring dozens of after hours just to get the hardware up to speed? But it really paid off in the end. We're still increasing effectiveness on the newer models thanks to A3-21's unique behavioural processes.”
“True. And with the recent successes this unit has achieved, Holdren has free reign to upgrade it however he wants. I just hope he doesn't forget his actual duties over this little pet project.”
Zimmer and his colleague went further into the facilities and their voices faded away with the distance, leaving X6-88 behind to wait for his next orders. His own success rate remained steady at 96%, a statistic on which he wanted to improve. He decided he'd study A3-21's latest mission reports if the time allowed him.
X6-88 wasn't the only one intending on accessing A3-21's latest report. In fact when he arrived at the bureau to ask permission to use the terminal there, a small line had formed already. Directly in front of him was Z2-47, fresh out of robotics and on duty.
“The report isn't finished yet.” he said as X6-88 approached. “He's still writing it. Dr Zimmer allowed us to wait for copies to be made if we aren't otherwise occupied.”
That explained the line. What surprised him was the fact that not only coursers eagerly awaited the release of the finished report. A couple of maintenance synths mingled among them, white specks in a herd of black clad coursers.
“What are these units doing here?” he asked. Z2-47 shrugged.
“I don't know. I have heard one of our masters refer to them as committing 'hero worship'. The tone of voice was fond, even though he described erratic behaviour.”
X6-88 had long since learned that regulations for other synths were lax compared to the strict regiment the coursers lived under. Small digressions from projected pathways were viewed with amusement rather than worry. It was no surprise they malfunctioned and fled that often if early signs were overlooked that much. Recognising the last thought to be one questioning his human masters he made a note to report this to Dr Ayo as soon as possible. Right after he got a hold of A3-21's mission reports.
“See? A comic book is to a human what a mission report is to a courser.”
“The analogy is not apt. By studying A3-21's decisions I was able to improve my effectiveness, which resulted in a 3% increase in success over six months. You gain no new knowledge from the fictitious adventures of an improbable character.”
“Not true. For example, if we ever stumble on a fusion powered time machine I'll know exactly how to dismantle it.”
X6-88 didn't grace that remark with a response.
“You should sleep, you will take watch in five hours.”
“I used to get less sleep most days during law school. Anyway, I'd much rather hear more about Super-Courser. Whatever happened to him?”
“He was put out of commission.” X6-88 said. “Hardware limitations made him eventually less effective than the models based on the Gen 3 manufacturing frame, even with upgrades.”
“Really? They threw him away, just like that? Why not keep him? It's not like you get paid anything, so to hell with the budget, right?”
“I asked myself the same question.” he admitted after a split-second of hesitation. “There were … questions that remained unanswered.”
No one saw A3-21 brought back to the Institute. They said he was on a mission outside the Commonwealth, which was unusual enough, but shortly after Dr Zimmer had to leave on urgent business as well. Rumours spread even as the synths were ordered not to mention A3-21 and all access to files related to him were given human only security clearance. But it wasn't the synths only who wondered.
“They say he's gone rogue. Sent a holotape to Zimmer, mocking him. He knows all the tricks. They'll never find him if he doesn't want to be found.”
X6-88 thought little of that rumour until, quite suddenly, all coursers were scheduled for 'routine neurological evaluation and maintenance'.
He went, got questioned intently, scanned and put under surveillance and then left. Many others did not. Over the next month the courser ranks dwindled to barely 20% of their original capacity. They didn't even reprogram the faulty units. Almost the entire A-line was discarded, those few who were still in operation, and the same happened to the B and F models. New routines were put into place. Now a courser had to undergo psychological recalibration every three missions, instead of only when discrepancies were noticed.
Throughout the entire SRB an air of panic spread. X6-88 wondered about the holotape allegedly sent to Zimmer, knew that if it existed a copy would have been made and saved to the Institute's mainframe. Things didn't add up but in the end it wasn't his place to question.
Months later A3-21 was recovered. At least that was the official announcement. They showed the scientists and synths a part of his processors as proof and that was that. Holdren took it hard, his favourite synth project being taken out, but life went on, if more restrictive than before. It seemed unbefitting for a successful synth like A3-21 to give his existence like that. X6-88 hadn't thought it would ever come to this, thought A3-21 would still be chasing malfunctioning synths long after he'd been dismantled. Reading the mission reports of other coursers never proved as insightful as those of A3-21.
“Ever wonder what's on that holotape?” Emma asked after X6-88 finished his recounting.
“It is not important.”
“You aren't the least bit curious?”
He didn't say anything, which was answer enough. The comic book lay forgotten next to Emma, who found this story much more interesting. When she asked if Institute synths had heroes she hadn't really expected to hear they had. Especially not from X6-88 who couldn't be more rigid if he tried.
“You know, next time we're there, we should see about getting that tape. Maybe find out what happened to your childhood hero, eh?”
“I did not have a childhood, th-”
“Yeah, yeah, just a phrase, don't get worked up. But hey, maybe there is one last mission report you can read about this guy.”
Far, far away on a ship driven on shore for over two hundred years, chief of security Harkness sneezed.
“Bless you. Caught the bug?” Angela said, serving Harkness his breakfast. It consisted of Brahmin bacon, Mirelurk egg omelette and some Nuka Cola to wash it all down. It was the highlight of his day, especially since he started working double shifts to compensate for half of Rivet city's security force brought low by a persistent flu strain.
“Thank you. No, I don't think so. Been healthy as a horse lately. Just … you ever get the feeling someone's talking about you?”