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The sun was high in the sky, and by now, Ségolène had just finished cooking dinner. She sat crouched by her oil cooking stove, watching the salmon she caught an hour earlier fry. Though all the living creatures on this planet had become inedible because of the radiation, Ségolène found a way to strip all toxins from the salmon's flesh. Through experiments, she has only found this successful with Salmon. No other fish or creature had worked. So, she journaled this, flipping through the torn pages of her old book; dragging her finger along the wilted paper, admiring her notes from before the war. She wouldn’t admit it, but they made her nervous, her hands trembled when lifted. The journal was full of wonderful memories, but for every nice memory, lay three bad ones. She picked up her pen and softly wrote,
“October 31st, 2287—Salmon deemed successful. Failed on the Catfish.”
She shut the journal and put up her oven-- folding the legs up before shoving the rusted machine in the garage. This house, the one she has been living in for about a year—was probably one of the oldest she has stayed in. Clearly made to be a suburban home, light blue paint split and trickled down from the sides of the trim. Vines and plants grew over the doors and shot past the windows; the vines took over-- but she let them have it.
She liked to think they were hugging the home. Keeping her safe inside.
Around this area, the wandering ghouls collected, she saw at least one a day. Though at this point-- they didn’t really bother her anymore. To keep them away, she killed them quietly and strung them on her home with thin rope.
This doesn’t just keep other ghouls away but also the thieves. She has formed a reputation within Somerville because of this, the few townspeople stayed away from her home. She knew it was because of the carcasses, and she didn’t care, she was surviving—not making friends.
Ségolène brought her cooked salmon inside, shutting the door quickly behind her, locking every notch on the old door. “Codsworth, have you seen the kettle?” She yelled, assuming he was in the kitchen as usual. Though there was no answer, “Codsworth, are you here?”
On occasion, if Ségolène was out, Codsworth would patrol the property. He made friends with a few of the survivors, using his zapper to take out wanderers and built-in tools to tend to their gardens. When Ségolène first found Codsworth he was in crucial condition—most of his probs were broken or torn completely off. The inside of him was screwed also. Ségolène brought him here and fixed him up. The bits and pieces took months to find, but she knew he would come in handy.
He was in a vault—Vault 111, the same one Ségolène was placed in before the war. Even at the thought, she could feel the ball in her throat form. Thinking feels like re-living. That cold, quiet space sits over her like blackmail. She wouldn’t let something she spent so long burying return so easily.
She sat down on her couch. Just like all the other houses, it was grey and striped. The whole thing was worn, but the wood was now starting to crumble. She would have to find a new one soon. She placed her journal on the table, and wondered where Codsworth could be. The sun would be setting soon, and she still had to tend to the gardens. This month was perfect for cucumbers and melons—she traded the seeds for silver last fall in the hope they would make it, and they seem to be holding up, for once. The inside of Ségolène’s homestead was dull. She refused to call it a home, as it really lacked any detail to be one. Only two windows stay intact; so, when the sun sets, she makes sure to double up on blankets and watch for Yao Guia. Who also look for warm places at night. Remembering she had things to do, she sat up and stretched, letting out an exaggerated groan.
Every day was tedious, and her body ached in every spot, before she could call again—she heard a faint knock at the door.
She clutched her thin blade as she walked to the door. Out of instinct her heart was racing, though subsided as she heard a robotic voice, “Ségolène? Are you in there?” It was Codsworth.
She unlocked the door and gave him an eyeroll. “You never knock on the door. Why today? I didn’t know who you were,” He was one of the smaller robots that were produced after the war. He looked dirtier than usual, rustier. “What have you been up to? You're messy.” Ségolène said, walking over to the kitchen and pulling a tattered green rag from the drawers. She wiped his probes down, watching the mud rub off.
“In the gardens, Ségolène, I pulled those weeds that were growing.” She looked up at the droid and gave a smile. “I believe the townspeople want to meet you, Ségolène. I have been speaking highly of you around them. I explained the ghoul carcasses.” Her smile faded when he said this,
“I don’t want to meet them, I have seen them before, isn't that enough?” Ségolène finished wiping the robot and unhunched. “I don’t want you over there anymore, speaking to them. Or at least, don’t let me find out.” She wouldn’t look at him. “I am going to go to bed, make sure the door is locked, please.” Still avoiding contact—she walked to the back of the house, walking into a smaller bedroom and shutting the door. She collapsed on her mattress. She had no pillows, just two thin blankets. She clutched her balled fist tightly, trying to distract her mind. She didn’t know why Codsworth's comment made her feel upset, but instead of thinking about it, she focused on her breath.
She pulled a small box from under her bed, it was yellow, and decorated in little blue flowers. Before the war, she got it from her mother—and has since used it to store private items. She popped the box open, observing what she was looking for. It was a small photo, lined with fraile parchment paper, she wiped a small layer of dust off the lining. Two people were in the photograph, they were her parents. They were both around thirty in the picture, Ségolènes mother wore a long green dress. Laced by the seam and wrapping around the cuffs, it was about knee length. Her hair was up and braided, along with a light blue bow close to her right ear. Her father on the other hand— was not as dressed up. He wore a blue button up and dark pants, his head was shaved at the time.
Ségolène studied her parents' faces in the photograph. They both were smiling ear to ear, Ségolène was about fourteen when the image was shot, she remembers. Faith washed over her. Whenever she was stuck, or upset, she thought about them. This always helped.
Before she could finish reminiscing— a loud knock rattled on her bedroom door. She yelled a small “Come in,” knowing it was probably Codsworth. The door swung open— It was, and to his surprise, she answered.
“I worry that I have bad news, Ségolène.” He stated, waiting for her response before continuing.
“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” She asked back.
Codsworth nodded, “Oh yes, I am perfectly fine. Though I worry there is something wrong with the water purifier. When I went to prepare your tea, it didn’t seem to be working. It kept sputtering, dark smoke came out the sides.”
Ségolène instantly perked up when she heard this news, she clutched her photo, “What do you mean?”
“What I just said ma’am, should I repeat?”
She focused on the photo in hand, “That isn’t good, show me, Codsworth.” She threw her photo back in the yellow box, before slapping the lid on, and sliding it back under the bed before following Codsworth. As they walked to the water station (that Ségolène decided to keep outside,) she found her hands shaking again. Codsworth noticed this, and pulled a white pill from the slot under his ‘chin’ ; she swallowed it dry, with no questions asked.
The water purifier was in a rough state. The originally rusty chunk of metal had become pieces. It was unusable now, Ségolène picked the pieces up, observing the chunks before placing them in her satchel and pulling out her journal. She would need multiple parts to fix the purifier. Parts she didn’t have access too,
October 31st, 2287,— Water purifier broke. Two bottles of filtered water are left. In need of four flat head screws and two small steel tubes. OUT OF MATERIAL.
She closed her notebook, and with a deep sigh, addressed the problem to Codsworth, “I need flat-head screws, and tubes. Those steel ones.” She sighed, exaggeratingly. Another problem was the last thing she needed.
“Well, ma’am, I hate to say it, but the townspeople have plenty of steel and material. I’m sure they’d lend some of the parts that are needed.” Codsworth spoke with hesitation, he watched Ségolènes eyes while he mentioned the townspeople.
“I don’t know.” Ségolène replied, flatly,
Codsworths’ expression dropped slightly, he knew her reaction would fall between refusal. “We don’t have much of a choice here, Ségolène. There’s not much clean water left, soon, you won’t have a choice.”
She looked at him. She knew he was right, as much as she wished he wasn’t. “I need to start dinner. Maybe tomorrow,” She looked down, in thought, “—Maybe tomorrow I’ll go over there, and ask.” She gave Codsworth a small smile and walked inside the homestead.
She stirred the large bowl of stew, dark red chunks floated around the tan liquid with every circle. It was fish; of course, but when she ate, she would close her eyes and imagine the stew as something else. Something more appealing, more flavourful— something her mother would make. Once she finished up, she put out the fire. Extinguishing it with the small bucket she kept beside her cooking station. She put on her mitts and carried the pot inside, placing the soup on the ‘dining’ table and pulling two bowls from her side table. Though Codsworth could not actually eat, (nor did he need to) Ségolène set the table like he could. She filled the bowls to the brim with the liquid, and placed them accordingly.
Codsworth was getting back from his nightly patrol, letting himself in the home and locking all the locks back up. He sat down at the table, “How are you feeling, Ségolène? I bet dinner is delicious.” This statement made her giggle, even if Codsworth was being genuine.
“I wanted to talk about tomorrow,” She scooped another spoonful, “What did you tell them about me?” She looked him in the eyes, “The townspeople.”
Codsworth beeped a small noise, “About your upbringing. How you found me, after the war and whatnot. I told them about our journey here, and your parents.”
Piping up at his last words, she took in another spoonful, and spoke, “You’ll go with me, right? If I go tomorrow?” Codsworth nodded,
“Of course, Ma’am.”
She laid her free hand on the table, “I wish I could tell you more,” Ségolène felt her heart begin to beat faster. “About my parents, and what happened to them.”
“I know, Ma’am. One day you will be able to, but that is not now, and that’s okay.” Though Codsworth was a robot, Ségolène was his family, and he understood these feelings more and more because of her. He would never feel them, but understanding why they happen— was just as special to him.
“In the morning, I will go see them. I’m going to ask them for the material— and in exchange I’ll trade cut Radscorpion. I have about five slabs.”
Codsworth nodded, “I think that’s a good idea, Ségolène.” And with that, she had her last bite of the stew and started cleaning up the table. She folded the napkins, and placed Codsworth's bowl inside the fridge— along with his other unfinished meals. She checked the locks one last time and got ready for bed. Using one of the bottled liters of water to wet a rag, she wiped her face down and then Codsworth's probes again. Plugging his battery inside the energy box, and shutting him down for the night.
The morning came earlier than anticipated, Ségolène woke up with her hands shaky. Her body remembering what she promised to do today.
She got Codsworth ready, and quickly got to getting dressed. It was cold this morning, colder than usual— and the windows needed extra paneling due to the wind. Codsworth packed Ségolène a small bag. The walk to the townspeople was not a far one, only twenty minutes or so, but because of the roaming predators— supplies were needed. The bag he packed was not large; the meat to trade, dried fruits and vegetables for snacking, and seeds for acquaintance. Ségolène slung the packed bag over her shoulder, she was ready and Codsworth was also. So, they set off.
The air was crisp, it was not long after dawn, and the grass was still dewy. Ségolène was glad that she packed another jacket just in case, as the temperature felt like it would drop more later in the day. She directed her head above her and admired the sky. There were no clouds above them, and the sun seemed dimmer today. Likely because of the temperature.
“It seems much colder today,” Ségolène groaned, hoping that wasn’t a bad sign.
“The sun is dimmer as well. That has happened before— before the war. It’s strange, nothing bad hopefully.”
Codsworth replied before waving to one of the townspeople. They had arrived at the nearest village now, and Ségolène wasn't nervous.