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Silvia could not stand the heat. Biggest mistake in moving to the desert. Honestly, she did not care that her ancestors and culture used to be in the desert heat. She did not want it.
Besides, it was across a huge ocean. So maybe the deserts were different.
Who was she kidding. They’d read enough vault data to know about desert customs. She just flat out didn’t like the heat.
By Allah she missed the Vault’s air conditioning. They didn’t like to think about the Vault. Missing a past you could not have was a folly.
But seriously, her Father grew up in weather like this? The Mojave may be pretty but maybe getting to California is just not worth the effort.
She pulled her rucksack from her back, placing it on the floor beside her as she sat, kneeling, on the shifting sands.
They sighed. Maybe leaving the Capital was a mistake?
No. No.
The heat is better than that place.
She unfurled her legs, a cat who had just woken, and slung the rucksack onto her back, like a sack of potatoes.
“I wish power armour was less heavy,” she grumbled slightly, before taking a brisk pace across the desert once more.
Her blue skirt skated over the floor, collecting sand within the hem, as her brown boots sunk deep down.
She readjusted her headscarf, shifting the blue fabric, and replacing the ‘Cavaliers’ baseball cap on top. The loose bodice of her abaya flowed gently in a soft breeze, and Silvia sighed in relief.
The sun was rather pretty here. A shining ball of yellows and oranges that perfectly mixed, highlighting the beauty of the desert. Small, prickly cacti stood out, the shadows they casted a dark contrast to the pale sand.
She continued on, until the sun was trying to slip beneath the horizon. What was once a hot day shifted into a cool night, the haze of heat blurring into the embrace of chill. The sands fell around her as she made her way to the top of a small mound.
Reaching the peak, Silvia considered going into her pack, rescuing a jumper, or perhaps her lab coat, she spotted a village, just past the ridge she found herself upon.
“Good enough destination as any,” she shrugged, “find out what people think of the New California Republic.”
Grandmother had written plenty on them. Silvia was, she would admit, excited to find a democratic state. Well, considering how the last election she saw was in the so called “Republic” of Dave, it would be hard to be worse.