Chapter Text
War... War never changes.
Since the dawn of human kind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything. From God, to justice, to simple psychotic rage.
The Romans waged war to gather slaves and wealth. Spain built an empire from its lust for gold and territory. Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic superpower. But war never changes.
In the 21st century, war was still waged over the resources that could be acquired. Only this time, the spoils of war were also its weapons: Petroleum and uranium. For these resources, China would invade Alaska, the US would annex Canada, and the European Commonwealth would dissolve into quarreling, bickering nation-states, bent on controlling the last remaining resources on Earth.
In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. The world was plunged into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation.
But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter of human history. For man had succeeded in destroying the world... But war... War never changes.
In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters... known as vaults. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them.
All except those in Vault 101. For on that fateful day, when fire rained from the sky, the giant steel door of Vault 101 slid closed and never reopened.
It is here you were born. It is here you will die. Because in Vault 101... no one ever enters... and no one... ever leaves.
The tap reel ran out and the lights turned back on as Edwin Brotch gazed across his bored classroom. "And so that concludes the yearly viewing of the Vault 101 Introduction Movie. Any questions?"
Butch raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. DeLoria? What is your most enlightening question?" Mr. Brotch asked with a sigh.
"Yeah. Do you really think we'd have any questions after seein' that movie for the past nineteen years of our lives?" Butch asked, grinning.
Laughter throughout the class. Except Amata and Oliver, his favorite students. Except that was because Oliver was sleeping. "Mr. Carpenter? Sleeping in class again, are you?" He got no response, only the slow, steady breathing of sweet sleep.
Stepping forward, Mr. Brotch slammed his palm on the boy's desk, but even that failed to wake him. The teacher resorted to tipping over his chair. That worked! The boy scrambled to his feet, stretching his arms and yawning. He paused to adjust his Vault jumpsuit. He didn’t seem to notice where he was...
"Mr. Carpenter..." That got his attention. The young man turned to look at his teacher, hands in his pockets as he gave him a blank stare. "If I wasn't fully aware of your reasons for sleeping in class, I'd give you detention for doing it so much. Just be grateful your father and I are such good friends.”
“Sorry...” The voice that spoke was so quiet, so soft, and so mellow in tone. In fact, Brotch was surprised the boy had spoken at all. He rarely did. Usually, his sister spoke for him.
"Okay, class dismissed," the teacher announced.
"Finally!" Butch shouted.
As everyone filed out of their seats, Amata ran up to the boy. "Hey, Ollie!" She slowed down to walk next to him. "Want to stop by the diner for some Nuka-Cola?"
Mmmm... Nuka-Cola. His only vice. The boy nodded.
As he walked, Amata was telling him a story of running into Christine Kendall in the hall earlier. Oliver only half listened. His thoughts were turning to days past... Important events in his life that stood out for some reason...
Nineteen years ago...
They say that when you’re born, you’re crying and everyone around you is smiling. They also say that when you die, you should be smiling, and everyone around you should be crying.
Well, like everyone, a healthy baby was born crying, covered in his mother’s inner care. The first thing he saw was an Asian woman, probably in her later twenties, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a white lab coat. The woman reached forward with both arms, pulling him from the warmth of his mother’s womb and cradling him in her to her chest like an aunt would her newborn niece or nephew. A man stepped forward next, Caucasian and possibly in his early thirties. A medical mask was over his face, matching his white lab coat.
“Let’s see... Are you a boy or a girl?” He wondered aloud. A brief examination of the obvious areas brought an answer to this question. “It’s a boy? A boy! We’ve got a son, Catherine! A beautiful, healthy baby boy!” The man exclaimed, overjoyed.
“Oh... Oh James...” A woman’s voice spoke up, but it wasn’t the woman currently holding him. It was the woman he’d just emerged from, the one who brought him to planet Earth. It was a pale woman with short, messy, dark hair, dressed in a patient gown and gazing upon her new child with adoring hazel eyes. “We did it... A son... Our beautiful son...”
“You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, kiddo. I’m sure of it...” The man, his father James, said to the newborn. Like his mother, he was pale and even seemed to have her hazel eyes and jet black hair.
The man leaned in close to the baby in the bespectacled woman’s arms, reaching his hand forward so the boy could suck on his finger.
“Looks at you! Look at you... Hi, there! I’m your daddy, little guy. Daddy.” The baby let go of his father’s finger and cooed in delight at the sight of him, a lifelong bond forming immediately. “You’re going to need a name, aren’t you?” His father continued. “Your mother and I have been talking. What do you think about... Oliver? That’s a good name, don’t you think? Fits your perfectly.” The newly-christened Oliver cooed in delight once again, happy with his new name.
“You’re going to look a lot like your dad,” James said, smiling at his new son from beneath his medical mask. He reached into the horn-rimmed glasses-wearing woman’s arms and gently took the newborn from her, cradling him. He turned to show Catherine their new miracle. “See that, Catherine?”
“Ohhh... Very strapping... Ha ha ha...” Catherine chuckled tiredly, James handing the bundle of joy to his wife.
“It’s a big world out there, kiddo, full of all sorts of people. What about you? What kind of person are you going to be?” James wondered aloud. “You’re just-“
“James?” Catherine interrupted.
“Catherine?” The new father turned to his wife in alarm.
“James...” The medical instruments around her began to beep.
“Catherine?!” James cried in alarm.
“Something’s...” The beeping got faster.
“She’s in cardiac arrest! Start compressions! Get the baby out of here! Move. Move!” James ordered.
The bespectacled woman hurriedly took the happy baby from his mother’s arms, the newborn wailing at the sudden change.
“One, one thousand. Two, one thousand... Come on!” James counted, pushing down on his wife’s chest with both hands as the woman with the glasses hurried Oliver out of the room. “Hang on, Catherine! Hang on...” He heard his father say.
The last thing the baby heard before crying himself to sleep in the woman’s arms was a loud, long beep that seemed to go on forever from the other room.
One year later...
“Don’t look straight into the light, son. You’ll hurt your eyes. It’s just something you get used to down here," a strong, soothing voice called from the sea of white.
A one year old Oliver found himself standing in a room he knew very well. After all, he had explored it on his hands and knees many times. Only now would he explore it on his own two feet instead, standing across the room from his playpen where his father stood, gesturing him over.
“Come on over here, son. Come on! Walk to Daddy!” James called to him, bending over and waving.
To his left was a girl only three years older, roughly four years old, in a child’s blue jumpsuit. It was Oliver’s older sister, Amanda. She sat on a nearby mat, playing with her teddy bear, Mr. Patches.
Uneasily bringing himself onto two bare feet, baby Oliver teetered and stumbled his way across the room and into the playpen. He almost fell several times but finally made the gauntlet before plopping down in front of his father on his diapered rear.
“There you go!” His father exclaimed, stooping lower and smiling at his son. “My goodness! Just a year old, and already walking like a pro. Your mother would have been so proud.”
Oliver giggled with a toothless mouth and clapped his tiny hands in joy.
James turned and walked past his son, out of the play pen and turning to close the gate. “Listen, kiddo. I know you don’t like it when Daddy leaves you alone, but I need you to take care of yourself for a minute. You just stay here while Daddy runs to his office with your big sister. You’ll be okay, son. We’ll be back in a bit.”
Watching his father and older sister leave out the big metal door across from the pen, Oliver looked about the room. His infant mind wondered what trouble he could get into.
Standing up, he pattered over to the playpen gate. He had long ago figured out how to open it, so stepping outside and into the room was easy. He still couldn’t open the door to outside, but his room was a much bigger playing area than his pen.
Having idolized his father, Oliver often imitated him in any way he could. That included picking up books and holding them in his lap, turning the pages. He obviously couldn’t read at just a year old, but his father did it all the time. At his age he hadn’t grasped the meaning of leafing through a book yet, but he walked over to his toy chest where his favorite book lie sitting on the ground.
Titled ‘You’re SPECIAL,’ the one-year old plopped down on the carpet and opened the book to the first page.
‘S is for Strength, and that means I am strong! I can carry more toys and swing stuff all day long!’
Hmm... That muscled Vault Boy on the other page was looking pretty boring. Standing up, Oliver reached into his toy trunk and removed a page of star-shaped stickers. Giggling to himself, he placed one of them just under the muscled Vault Boy, then turned the page.
‘P is for Perception, a long funny word! It means what I tasted, smelled, saw, and heard!’
Oliver promptly placed eight of the stickers under this image of Vault Boy surrounded by pictures representing the five senses.
“E is for Endurance, and that’s how long I can play! I’m always really healthy, and have energy all day!”
Removing two stickers, Oliver placed them under the jump-roping Vault Boy before turning the page.
‘C is for Charisma, it’s why people think I’m great! I make my friends all laugh and smile, and never want to hate!”
Oliver sucked on his thumb for a moment, then grabbed five stickers. His saliva-covered hand, however, picked up an additional five, accidentally depositing a total of ten under the image of Vault Boy pointing at the reader and winking. He turned the page after wiping his hand on his diaper.
‘I is for Intelligence, it means I’m really smart! I use my brain for lots of stuff, like science, math, and art!”
For once, he actually found this image of Vault Boy rather amusing. He was sitting on a stack of giant books and reading another giant book in his hands. Feeling this page deserved more stickers as a reward for being good, Oliver placed a total of ten under Vault Boy. He turned the page once again.
‘A is for Agility, that’s how I get around! I move real fast and easy and I never make a sound!”
Grabbing a handful of stickers, Oliver placed a total of seven under the image of Vault Boy balancing on a bottle, smiling to himself as he turned the page once more.
“L is for luck and it’s simple, you see! It means that good things always happen to me!”
Oliver grabbed a handful of stickers, but only managed to get one on the space under Vault Boy walking by a black cat before the door to the room slid open, the baby dropping the book and handful of stickers to turn and see his caretaker return to the room.
“Ha ha ha!” His father chuckled. “You’re quite the little explorer, aren’t you? Serves me right for trying to pen you in!”
The baby gazed up at his father with big, hazel eyes, a toothless smile on his face at the sight of him. He stood up and pattered over to stand in front of James, hugging his leg and cooing at him.
James bent down and picked his baby son up, holding him upright in his arm. “Come on over here. I want to show you something.” He brought Oliver to a small table between the door and his toy trunk, a framed piece of paper with words he couldn’t read yet on it. “See that? It was your mother’s favorite passage. It’s from the Bible. Revelation Twenty-One Six.”
Oliver gazed at the fancy lettering with awe, looking up at his father as he began to recite the passage. “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.” Even at only a year old, Oliver felt a shiver run up his spine from hearing his father recite it.
James turned away from the framed quote and back to the baby in his arms. “She always loved that.”
Oliver cooed in amazement, reaching out to touch his father’s nose.
“All right, come on,” James began, standing and turning to carry Oliver out of the room. “Let’s go see if your little friend Amata wants to play...”
Oliver squealed in delight, right in his father’s ear. He loved playing with Amata, even if the girl’s father was pretty scary. Sighing, he rested his head on his father’s shoulder and closed his eyes, just to shield his vision from the bright lights of the hallways.
Nine years later...
He wasn't sure why he was led out of his room and down the hall with his eyes closed. His father just said that it was a surprise. Trusting his father, Oliver of course complied. He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder as he led him down the halls of Vault 101 with his hazel eyes closed. Conveniently, he had also forgotten what day it was to day. He had been right in the middle of a particularly engrossing issue of Today’s Physician when his father popped in and told him to come along.
"Okay, pal! Open your eyes!" James instructed.
He did, only to find the room dark. A blinding white filled his eyes as the lights were flipped on. Horns went off, people clapped, and multiple voices all shouted "Happy birthday!" all at once. Oh, right! It was his birthday today! The tenth one!
"Stanley, ya turned the lights on too fast! Ya blinded the poor kid!" He heard Officer Gomez chastise as he attempted to rub his eyes to clear his vision. When he could see again, it seemed the diner had been set up for his tenth birthday party, with 'Happy Birthday!' banners, streamers, balloons, and party hats. Directly in front of him was his best friend Amata, Officer Gomez, and Sparky. His father was just behind him and placed a party hat on his head with the stealth of a ninja.
"Can you believe it? He's growing up so fast," he heard Mrs. Palmer say.
"Happy birthday, pal! I can't believe you're already ten. I'm so proud of you," James began. "If only your mother-"
His father was interrupted as Alphonse Almodovar, the Overseer, walked up with something held behind his back. Oliver held his ground, looking up at the tall man with a blank expression.
"Congratulations, young man! I don't have to tell you how special this day is, do I?" The Overseer greeted. He spoke with none of the warmth one usually should use when speaking to a ten-year-old boy. "Down here in Vault 101, when you turn ten, well, you're ready to take on your first vault responsibilities. So here you are!" His hand emerged from behind his back, revealing the object he had been hiding to be a Pip-Boy 3000. "As Overseer, I present to you your very own Pip-Boy 3000. Get used to it." He added the last part a bit bitterly.
The Overseer held the personal information processor out for him to take, but Oliver just eyed the device before him. Sighing, as if he really didn't want to put up with this, he tossed the device to his father, who helped affix it to his rather small wrist. Oliver looked down at the screen, seeing a readout of his vitals. Three buttons switched to other modes of viewing, like data storage. Two dials on the side allowed scrolling horizontally to other sections in each particular button's category, and vertically for scrolling through lists of data on each page.
"You'll be getting your first work assignment tomorrow," the Overseer explained. He started chuckling heartily, but stopped when he saw the boy was giving him a small smile instead of showing signs of dread. He was already studying his father's medical and science texts. Maybe now he could actually assist Stanley with any computer problems and help his father in the clinic. Why wouldn't he be looking forward to it? He was getting bored with reading comic books.
"Enjoy you're party. You're only ten once, so have fun," his father urged him. He walked off to sit at the diner counter with Stanley, Sparky close on his heel, leaving him standing alone. Amata, his best friend, was the first to approach him.
"Happy birthday! We really surprised you, didn't we?" She giggled. "Your dad was afraid you were onto us, but I told him not to worry. You're so easy to fool. You like it, right?"
Oliver just smiled, giving Amata a nod. Oliver was a quiet boy, rarely one to waste words or speak unnecessarily. Luckily Amata could just tell that her best friend was truly thankful for the time and effort she went through to set everything up. "You're welcome, then. But really, your dad did most of it. I just helped with the decorations and stuff. Hey, I betcha can't guess what I got ya for your birthday! Go on, guess!"
The boy just shrugged.
"Ha! I knew I'd surprise you. Who's your favorite barbarian? That's right, Grognak! Issue fourteen and with no missing pages." She pulled the comic book out from behind her back. A small smile came to Oliver’s face, reaching forward and accepting the comic book from his best friend’s hands. He gave Amata a thumbs up as thanks. "I found this in a box of my father's old things, believe it or not. Imagine him reading comic books! I guess everybody was ten once." The boy released a silent chuckle at that, nodding. "Well, I'd better let you get back to mingling with your guests. We'll talk later, okay? Happy birthday."
The girl didn't wait for Oliver's response. That was the thing with Amata. Oliver wasn't one to talk much, but he didn't really need to with his best friend. The girl tended to know what he wanted to say without saying it. Maybe that's why they became such good friends. They were both social outcasts. The quiet, bookworm boy and the Overseer's daughter. Both picked on, both shunned. But together, they had a friend in each other.
Oliver turned around and opened the comic book he received, leafing through the first few pages, but felt a tap on his shoulder that made him jump. “Happy birthday, little brother!”
Oliver whirled around to see his sister standing there, something held behind her back and a smile on her face. Three years older than Oliver, Amanda was thirteen and already was filling out her Vault 101 jumpsuit nicely. Unlike her little brother, Amanda took a bit more after their father, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. She was still rather pale, just not as pale as her little brother. Her hair was cut short in a pixie style, though she had told Oliver she was intending to grow it out. Unlike Oliver’s keen interest in scientific and medicinal pursuits, Amanda had developed an early interest in mechanics and engineering. After spending most of her childhood fixing and hanging out with the Vault’s resident maintenance Mr. Handy, Amanda had developed a bit of Andy’s accent, though Andy said the girl's was more Australian than his own British.
Like Amata, Amanda tended to be able to tell what Oliver wanted to say without actually saying it, so his quirked eyebrow was all she needed in response. “Yes, I know I’m grounded. But I wouldn’t miss your tenth birthday party, silly!” Her father really hadn't appreciated the fact she had loosened the pipes in his private restroom. In addition to having to help Andy clean up the resulting flooding in Stanley's place, she was also grounded for a week.
Oliver shrugged at that, then lifted his arm to show his sister the Pip-Boy he just received.
“Yep, you finally got your Pip-Boy, little brother. Next up, weekly chores, double classes, and keeping your Vault-Tec Daily up-to-date," she teased.
The boy pouted at that.
“Oh, there are good things, of course. But I’ll let you discover those on your own." Amanda gave him a wink.
Oliver smiled at that, a small smile, but all of his smiles were small.
“Here, I got you a present.” She pulled it out from behind her back to show her little brother. “It’s my old teddy bear, Mr. Patches. He’s... He’s all yours now.”
She added the last part with an emotional softness in her voice, handing the patchwork teddy bear to her brother. Olver set his comic book down to hold the teddy bear up for a better look. He gazed at the teddy bear’s little button eyes, long having been used to replace his original eyes. He could tell that this present was very hard for his sister to give up. Looking at Amanda gazing at the ground, Oliver reached forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. The contact made her head snap up to meet her younger brother's eyes. He smiled at her, a smile that seemed to affect his eyes as well. “Thank you...”
Wow... He actually spoke! That was a huge accomplishment for Amanda! It was downright challenging to actually get her brother to speak and it let her know that he truly knew what this gift meant. The girl reached up and wiped a tear from her eye. “That bear saw me through some tough times... Take care of him, okay?” Oliver just nodded at that. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”
Amanda moved to venture to another party guest. Oliver took this as his cue to head deeper into the room.
"Happy birthday, sonny!" Officer Gomez greeted before sipping from his bottle of Nuka-Cola. He gave a wave back as he calmly shuffled around the booths to make his way to the diner counter. Stanley was there and he wanted to ask him about his new Pip-Boy.
The Overseer stopped him as he passed, seated at the nearest booth. "I hope you appreciate the effort Amata put into this party. She really seems to like you... for some reason."
Oliver looked about at the decorations of the room before turning back to the Overseer, quirking an eyebrow. “Couldn’t you have helped?”
The Overseer huffed. "I do not allow the fact that Amata is my daughter to compromise my position as Overseer. I gave her all the appropriate paternal encouragement of course, but I could not contribute extra vault resources. That is simply what my position requires. No more, no less. I know Amata understands that perfectly well."
He sighed, walking past him. He was stopped by Mrs. Palmer sitting on the other side of the booth.
"Are you having a nice party? Ten years old! My, my, my. Seems like only yesterday that your daddy came." At ten years old most wouldn't think Oliver would pick up on that choice of words, but he was both a perceptive and precocious child. Of course trusting his father implicitly, he just figured Mrs. Palmer was using a metaphor he hadn't heard before. "Goodness, listen to me ramble! You're waiting for your present, aren't you?"
“Yes, please," came Oliver’s reply in a soft, quiet voice.
"Such a nice, polite young man you are. But you really should speak up more. I was ten once, believe it or not. My goodness, the vault was practically crowded back then. Not like today. So few young people now... Of course, we had a real Overseer back then. Worthy of respect. Not like that one over there, with his rules and his secrets." She subtly gestured to the Overseer, who Amata was scolding for giving his vault responsibility speech instead of relaxing and having fun. "Why, I have half a mind to just up and tell you..." She stopped herself and sighed. "Listen to me ramble. My point is... You have a brilliant mind, child. I just wish you had the voice to use it." The boy frowned. "Now, now. No moping. It's your birthday. So... Here you go. A nice sweetroll that I baked for you just this morning. And it's all for you! You're the birthday boy. No sharing required today."
Mrs. Palmer handed him a sweetroll. It wasn't warm, but it was fresh and smelled really good. He said a thank you to Mrs. Palmer before continuing on down the tables. His progress towards Stanley was stopped by Paul Hannon, one of Butch's friends. He was sitting with him and Wally.
"Hey, uh, thanks for inviting me. Really cool party and everything. I know that, uh, Butch and I give you a hard time, but you don't take that seriously, right? Anyway, uh, happy birthday and everything. I better get back to, ya know," he said.
"What, are you two best friends now? Hey, Wally, I think Paul's gone soft on us!" Butch teased.
"Yeah, Paul. Why don't you introduce us to your new best friend?" Wally agreed.
"Who do you mean, dork-face over here? Happy birthday, dork-face!" The sadistic laughter that followed, though clearly forced, was telling of the boy’s future. Paul was actually a good kid. He just fell in with Wally and Butch.
Oliver had just turned around and began to walk to the diner counter when Wally grabbed him by the arm, bringing him screeching to a halt. He whirled around the face him, a frown on his face.
"Paul's got a point, though. This party's pretty good, I guess. For a little kid. Balloons, party hats," he mocked. "Not as cool as my party, though. Remember how my dad got Andy to do magic tricks? And we all played Hunt the Mutant in the Atrium? Oh, right! You weren't invited to my party! Too bad, man. It was really fun."
Sighing, Oliver turned around, ignoring Butch’s henchman.
"Attention everyone! It is time to cut the cake!" The vault's resident Mr. Handy robot Andy announced from behind the counter, facing the cake. Except he wasn't facing it with his pincer arm, nor did that arm hold a knife. Instead the side with the buzz saw was... oh no!
"Andy! Wait!" Amata cried. Within moments, the cake was eviscerated with Andy's buzz saw arm, splattering all over the counter. "Oh no..."
Andy turned to face Oliver. "Allow me to wish you a happy birthday," he greeted in his British butler voice. "I would offer you a piece of cake, but..."
Oliver chuckled, a small smile on his face.
"Rest assured, I am mortified about the cake mishap. Simply mortified," the robot continued.
His light laughing settling down, Oliver only gave Andy a thumbs up.
At least Stanley didn't mind salvaging some of the splatter onto his plate. He pressed forward on his gauntlet through the social setting of his tenth birthday party, finally rounding the counter to talk to Stanley. Before he finally got to the maintenance technician, he found Sparky standing in the corner right by him.
"Happy birthday, young master!" The cyberdog greeted, his voice like a lighthearted child's. Even while speaking, his tongue and mouth continued to pant. The speech program was built-in. He didn't have to use his jaws to make it work.
"Sparky... Glad you could make it to the party..." Oliver knelt down to rub the cyberdog's neck and scratch his ears. The German shepherd may have had sub-dermal armor but he could still feel touch. Most of the metal parts were covered with fur and flesh that had full sensation. It was just the large patch on his back, the area around his right eye, his left front leg, and his right hind leg that showed the metal underneath. The left eye was still a brown doggie eye but his right was just a glowing red bionic eye. Butch one time told him that if he had a dog, he'd want it to at least have two eyes. Sparky defended by saying he does have two eyes and they work great.
"You know how it is. Where your dad goes, I go. Woo hoo!" The cyberdog cheered, barking along with it. He could even bark and talk at the same time if he wanted.
"Right. Um... just... try not to throw up on the floor, okay, boy?" Oliver cautioned.
The cyberdog's tongue slipped back into his mouth as he closed it and tilted his head to the side. "That doesn't happen very often!" He defended.
Oliver chuckled, finding the spot right on Sparky's side that made his leg thump on the floor. "Maybe they should have let you cut the cake, Sparky...”
"Oh, yes! I would have loved to cut the cake!" It was funny how he could talk even while enthralled in a good petting session. "But, you know, I would have eaten it too. All of it."
Oliver smiled. "Well, thanks for the happy birthday wishes." He stood up, leaving Sparky to shake his body a bit as he sat down on his hind legs and looked up at him, yawning.
"Yes, indeed! And in ten more years, you'll be older than me!" The boy chuckled at that. The cyberdog tilted his head to the side once more. "No, wait... that's not how it works, is it?"
"I don't think so, you big goof," Oliver said.
"Oh well. Have fun at your party, young master! I'll be right here, seeing if I can mooch some of your birthday cake off Stanley." Sparky stole a mischievous glance at the maintenance worker.
"Actually, want my sweetroll instead?" Oliver offered.
The cyberdog’s eyes lit up, his tail immediately wagging a mile a minute. “Really?!”
Oliver nodded. “Sure.” He held the baked good out for the dog, who gently took it between his teeth.
“Thanks! Sweetroll!” The Cyberdog cheered, still speaking clearly despite the object in his mouth. He went off to the corner to eat it. Sparky knew not to scarf down any really good ‘human food’ he got and had learned to hold objects between his front legs and take bites out of them. He was no doubt going to do so with the sweetroll. Smiling at the animal that brought quite a lot of life to this vault, Oliver turned to talk to the maintenance worker Stanley. He hopped onto the stool next to him.
"How do ya like that there Pip-Boy, son? Fit all right and everything?" Stanly asked, tilting his Nuka-Cola at him.
Oliver smiled and nodded. Stanley was one of his favorite adults in the vault. He really enjoyed talking about programming with him and Amanda was usually around him talking about mechanics. "Kinda looks like you did some work on it... You fix it up?"
"As a matter of fact, I did. I'm glad you like it," Stanly replied. "Some may think the A series, uhhh... a bit basic. Heavier than some of the fancier models too, but I've always preferred them for their reliability."
"Yeah, think you mentioned that when you showed me your own. Didn't you say you can drop a bomb on these things and they'll still work?" Oliver asked.
"Wow, so you are paying attention to my tangents, huh? Just be warned, you can't get it off once it's on. Biometric seals and all that. I could tell you some stories of trying to take 'em off the old folks." He started to chuckle but stopped as Oliver’s eyes widened in horror. "Ah, well, that's hardly a fit subject for a kid's birthday party. Besides, not like you'd want to get it off. Your Pip-Boy's the best friend you'll ever have. You'll get used to it. Soon, you'll wonder how you ever got by without it. But here I am goin' on about your Pip-Boy so I clean forgot to give you your present. Close your eyes, now." He did. "Happy birthday!" He felt the party hat removed from his head and replaced with something soft. Oliver opened his eyes and felt the top of his head to feel a baseball cap atop it. Judging from the color of the bill, it was a red one.
"Thanks, Stanley..." Oliver said with a small smile.
"Hey, don't mention it." Stanly smiled back at the quiet, intelligent child. "So, see you tomorrow in the main frame room? We've got some terminals in there that seem to be locked up. First vault responsibilities, remember?"
"Course, Stanley. Wouldn't miss it for anything," Oliver assured the maintenance worker.
Hopping off the stool, he stepped out from the counter to talk to Amata some more. It was Butch who got his attention instead. "I'm hungry and that stupid robot destroyed the cake! Gimme that sweetroll you got from Old Lady Palmer!"
Oliver shrugged. “Already gave it to Sparky, Butch...”
“What? You gave it to the dog? Ugh! You’ll be sorry!”
Before Oliver could react, Butch leaped from his seat at the diner booth. Oliver tried his best to duck, but Butch's fist nailed his right in the nose. As blood began to seep from his nostrils, Butch landed a punch into the boy’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. “Say uncle!”
As the guests of the party all sat with gaping mouth, Officer Gomez ran forward and yanked Butch away from Oliver by the neck of his jumpsuit. “Butch! What do you think you’re doing? Leave him alone!”
Butch went to sit down, Officer Gomez kneeling before Oliver and pulling out a Stimpak from his pocket. Every Vault officer carried a supply of two for first aid emergencies like these. Gomez promptly stuck one in Oliver’s arm, his nose healing right up. “I hope Butch didn’t hurt you. Do you want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Nothing... My fault...” Oliver told him, sniffling.
Office Gomez could see through it, though. Oliver never tried to get anyone else in trouble... “Why that little... I figured it was him that started it. He’s been nothing but trouble since the day he was born. You let me handle this and try to stay out of the way.”
Oliver bit his lip, watching as his favorite security officer turned to where Butch sat. “All right, Butch.”
“Heeeeey, Officer Gomez! Nice party, huh?” The boy replied nervously.
“Can it. I’ve had it with you, Butch. Your mother is going to hear about this little incident," Gomez warned.
“Hey, not like it was my fault!” Butch defended.
Officer Gomez stood his ground. “I’m not going to tolerate any more of your bullying."
Butch remained stubborn. “Fine, tell my mom. Big deal!”
“For now, just remember, I’m keeping my eye on you!” Officer Gomez turned to Oliver and gave him a wink, making the boy smile.
A beeping sounded from the intercom in the corner. Oliver’s father got up to answer it but stopped at his son’s side. “Are you all right? Is Butch giving you a hard time again?”
Oliver nodded, knowing he could trust his father.
His father crossed his arms, sighing. “I wish we didn’t have to invite him but there just aren’t that many children your age in the vault. You shouldn’t let Butch walk all over you. Once you start getting bullied, you’ll never hear the end of it and there are bullies out there far worse than Butch. Just don’t go looking for fights yourself, either.”
Oliver nodded again, this time with a small smile on his face.
James Carpenter continued to the intercom while Amata approached the boy next. “What’s Butch’s problem, anyway? I can’t believe he tried to start a fight at your own birthday party. What a jerk!”
Oliver kicked at the ground, placing his hands in his pockets. “My fault...”
“Wow, you really think that?" Her best friend's attitude never ceased to amaze her. She wasn't sure if it was selflessness or self-deprecation. "God, Butch is such a butthead! Oh well. You can always count on him to make an ass of himself. Get it? Ha ha!”
Oliver managed a smile, nodding. It was Amanda who tapped him on the shoulder next, the boy turning to look at his older sister. "What was that about? Are you okay?”
Oliver merely smiled, giving Amanda a thumbs up. “Well, good to know you can look after yourself. Why don’t you go see Dad? I think him and Jonas have something special planned for you.”
Sure enough, Oliver turned around to see his father walking up. “Hey, that was Jonas on the intercom. He and I have been cooking up a little surprise present. Jonas is waiting for you downstairs on the reactor level. Go ahead, I don’t think anyone will mind if you slip out for a few minutes.”
Nodding, Oliver turned and ran from the room but immediately had a run-in with Beatrice, one of the adults of the vault. "Happy birthday, dearie! My goodness, I hope I didn't miss the party."
Most people would take offense to being spoken to like a child, but Beatrice spoke that way to everyone. Oliver merely shook his head in response to her.
"My, my. Ten years old already. Why, I can remember helping your dad change your diapers..." Oliver grimaced at that. "And now look at you! A great big grown-up ten-year-old with your very own Pip-Boy. Since this was such a special occasion, do you know what I did? I wrote you a poem! Just for you! I hope you like it."
She handed Oliver a sheet of paper and insisted she show the boy how to scan it into his Pip-Boy's databank.
"Thanks...” Oliver told her, his voice soft and quiet.
"You're welcome!" She chirped. "Run along now, dearie! And have yourself a wonderful birthday!"
Oliver nodded, turning and walking down the hall. As he turned the corner and was about to turn the next one down into the reactor, he noticed the Overseer heading up the stairs ahead of him. Crouching down low, he stuck to the shadows of the wall and followed him up. The Overseer didn't seem to notice him. He always was good at moving about silently and remaining undetected. It must have been from sneaking out of his room so much to go have secret sleepovers with Amata. As the Overseer turned the corner to go further up the stairs, he stopped and listened closely.
"Enjoy the party, sir?" That was Officer Kendall, one of the vault's security officers.
"Bah, I only showed up because Amata's friends with the brat." Oliver frowned at those bitter words. "Give them a few more minutes and then I want that place cleaned up and everybody back to work."
"Sure thing, sir," Officer Kendall replied, oddly cheerful. Oliver heard footsteps and quickly retreated back down the stairs and down into the reactor before the security guard came down and saw him.
He walked down the stairs while looking down at the poem in his Pip-Boy. It was... strange, to say the least. Despite his youth, he could tell there was something... different... about Beatrice. Maybe it was the tarot card readings she offered in the Atrium. One thing was for sure, though. This poem didn't seem like the kind of thing anyone would give a ten-year-old.
"What are you doing down here, young man? I thought kids weren't allowed on the Reactor Level." He froze in his tracks, looking up from his Pip-Boy to find himself already at the bottom of the stairs with Jonas standing across from him, looking him over mischievously from behind his iconic glasses.
"Oh... Dad told me it was okay to come down here..." Oliver murmured awkwardly.
"Hey, relax! I was just teasing. Listen, now that you're ten you don't have to take guff like that from grown-ups anymore. Got it?" Oliver smiled. "Hold on one more minute. I think your dad will want to give you the surprise himself."
He turned around to see his father walk in, Sparky just behind him. "Are you ready for your surprise?" Oliver nodded. "The Overseer gave you your Pip-Boy and you're old enough to do some work, so... I think you're old enough for this."
He stepped over to the corner, grabbing something from the shadows and returning to hold it out for his only son. "Your own BB gun! It’s... a little old but it should work perfectly!"
Oliver smiled, gently taking the toy rifle.
“Jonas found it down here. It was in pretty rough shape," James Carpenter explained. "Took us a good three months to find the parts to get it working again. You know how tough it is to find a spring that small? Good thing Butch ‘misplaced’ that switchblade of his, ha ha! So, what do you think? Want to give it a try?”
Oliver looked around at the metal walls around them. “Can’t shoot here...” He said.
“We sure can’t. Not unless we want the Overseer beating down our door. Jonas and I have found a place, though. C’mon!” His father gestured him to follow.
Oliver followed his father deeper into the Reactor Level and through a steel door to where a nook had been set up with three targets cobbled together from various junk parts.
“Well, what do you think? You can come down here and shoot any time you want," James explained.
Oliver reached up and lifted the bill of his baseball cap, a smile on his face as he gave his father a thumbs up. “Thanks...”
"Couldn't have done it without Jonas's help. You make sure to thank him," James said, casting a grateful look at the engineer.
"Happy birthday, buddy. I hope you have fun with it," Jonas added, waving.
"Thanks, Jonas..." Oliver said to him.
"Hey, you don't turn ten every day. Now go on and let me see you shoot something," he teased.
Oliver nodded, going to kneel before the upturned locker. He rested his arms atop it as he aimed his toy rifle at the first target. A single shot and it went spinning. Wow, looked like he was pretty good at this. This was proven wrong when his next shot missed, however. After that it was smooth sailing and each target was hit. Then a very large cockroach emerged from behind the nearby lockers.
"Careful, it's a radroach. Think you can take care of that with your BB gun? Just aim and shoot, you'll be fine," James instructed.
Oliver nodded, looking down the barrel of his BB gun. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled, pulling the trigger. A BB went straight through the giant cockroach, killing it. Sighing in relief, Oliver stood, turning to see his father walking toward him.
"Good work! That's one less Radroach to deal with. Let's get a picture together. Capture the moment." He turned to the bespectacled engineer. "Hey Jonas, get a picture of me with the big game hunter!"
His father wrapped his arm over his shoulder and he turned to face forward, his new BB gun still in his hands. Jonas was facing them with a big flashbulb camera held up.
"Smile!" The flash was blinding.
Six years later...
"As far as I can tell, you're a perfectly healthy sixteen-year-old boy. So yes, you have to go to class to take your G.O.A.T. exam," James explained, gazing into Oliver's eye with an ophthalmoscope.
James set the medical instrument down, turning to see Oliver bring his hand up to cough into it.
“No, you’re not sick, Oliver. When I started studying medicine one of the first things I learned was how to spot a kid playing sick to get out of taking a test," James explained, a small smile on his face. "You’ll do fine. It’s not so bad. Everyone has to take it when they’re sixteen. I had to, you have to, and so does everyone else. Most everyone makes it through without a scratch.”
Oliver sighed.
“Hey, it’s not my call," James defended, crossing his arms. "Those are the rules. You’re sixteen now, so this year you take the G.O.A.T. C’mon, it’s not so bad. You’ll do just fine.”
"Anything I need to know about the G.O.A.T.?" The teenage boy asked.
"The Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test. G.O.A.T." James explained. "Everyone has to take it when they turn sixteen. Helps to figure out what kind of job you'll have in Vault 101 when you get a bit older. So pay attention and try not to fall asleep. You know what the Overseer says. We're born in the vault, we die in the vault. Each is tested to determine their abilities, that they may work for the betterment of all vault residents." He chuckled at his own recitation of the Overseer's words. "Hm. Sound familiar?"
That left a question on his mind. Eager to stall going to class, he pressed it. "Is it true, dad? Was everyone born in the vault?"
His father sighed. It seemed like he was conflicted... Oliver could tell. "That's what the Overseer says, isn't it? He's not about to let anyone else in, so I guess that's how it'll have to be. You're here now and it's a hell of a lot better than being up there. All your mother and I ever wanted was for you to be safe and you're safe here."
"Do we have to die in the vault? Can't we ever leave?" Yes, it certainly seemed like these questions bothered his father... Oliver had several guesses as to why but none were even close to the real truth.
"That's not the way it works and it won't do to go around asking questions like that. Especially not around the Overseer." His father's fingers tightened. Oliver could tell what James was about to say next was serious. "I want to tell you something now. It's important, so listen closely... This place, this vault... It's not perfect, but it is your home. You're safe here. Stay on the Overseer's good side and you always will be. You understand? You need to appreciate all you have. Because what's up there, on the outside... that's not the life I want for you. It's not what your mother wanted for you, either."
His mother... Oliver's eyes glanced to the photo on his father's desk. He knew he'd regret asking his next question. It always made his father sad and that made him sad. “Can we talk about... mom? What was she like?"
James Carpenter's face softened. "Your mother, she... She was beautiful. But... beyond the beauty you've seen. There's just so much those old photos can never show," his dad explained. Oliver could tell from his words... he loved her. More so, he missed her. "And she was passionate. About life, about love. But most of all... most of all she was passionate about you. When she became pregnant, it was the happiest I had ever seen her." He sighed. A long, pleasant sight. Oliver felt himself smiling just from the sound of it. "She had big things in mind for you... And so! Time for you to stop stalling and get to class. Please, son, please... Take these achievement tests seriously. The last thing I need is your mother's ghost haunting me because her only son became a... a garbage burner."
He smiled. "Bye, Dad."
"Take care son. Now get out of here. And good luck," James pat his son on the back, giving him a gentle push toward the door.
Sparky walked up to Oliver. He had been sitting just in the corner of the room behind the desk.
“Good luck with your test, young master!” The cyberdog told him. Oliver knelt down to rub him behind the ears.
“Wish I had taken you up on that offer to help me study, boy,” Oliver joked, smiling.
The cyberdog tilted his head to the side a little, sticking his tongue out and panting. “Oh, I bet I would’ve been a great tutor! Master says I can read at a third grade level and I can even count to ten!”
Oliver chuckled. He loved Sparky. He was like a little brother to him, especially since his father was actually his registered owner, so he wasn’t technically Oliver’s. As he walked out of his father's office, he passed Jonas. "Good morning! Stopped in to see the old man before class, eh?"
He nodded. "Morning, Jonas."
Amanda was sitting at a nearby table, reading an issue of Fixin’ Things. He walked over, staring at her. Amanda had really grown in the past six years. But then again, so had he. While Oliver was sixteen now, Amanda was nineteen. She had indeed grown her dark brown hair out. It was currently reaching to the middle of her back, held it back with a blue hairband. She needed glasses now, much like the ones Jonas wore. She had certainly filled out her jumpsuit even more, too. She was quite a bit taller than him with a good four or so inches on her little brother. “Didn’t Dad tell you to stop stalling?”
Oliver gave a start, not having realized that his sister knew he was watching her. She hadn’t even looked up from her magazine.
“You had to take the G.O.A.T. too?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Of course! Everyone does. How do you think I wound up in Vault engineer training?” Amanda replied, finally looking up from her issue of Fixin' Things. Yes, much to Amanda’s joy, she had wound up with the perfect job to match her childhood passion and ended up getting to take apart and fix machines all day.
“My job gets decided by this, then?” Oliver asked.
“That’s the idea, but how they get from one to the other is anyone’s guess,” Amanda told him, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with her index and middle fingers.
“Any tips?” Her younger brother pressed.
She paused, turning in her chair to look at him. “Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but Mary-Beth told me she just whined to Mr. Brotch and he helped her fill it out to get the job she wanted.”
“Hmm... Thanks. Guess I’d better get it over with, then," Oliver said.
“Don’t sweat it. You’ll do fine.” Amanda assured him, giving him a pat on the shoulder.
As he passed his older sister, he found Stanley in the corner, sitting in the chair reserved for waiting patients. He waved to him, giving a cough, and he waved back. Outside, Andy was fixing the wiring behind an open panel in the wall, wishing him good morning and urging him to be careful while he worked.
"Get out of my way, you stupid Tunnel Snakes!" A distressed female voice came from down the hall.
"I could show you a real tunnel snake, A-ma-ta," a smug male voice replied.
Oh, great. His best friend was getting accosted by the resident vault bully and his two flunkies. He had to help her. Walking up to where the three of them surrounded his friend, Oliver tapped Butch on the shoulder.
The Tunnel Snake jumped, turning around to face the young man. “Yeah? What do you want?”
“Problem here?” Oliver asked.
“None a your business, kid. Get outta here before ya get hurt. If you mess with the Tunnel Snakes, you’re asking for it. Got me?” Butch waved his hand, urging the boy to shoo.
Oliver stood his ground, placing his hands on his hips. “Keep messing with her... Answer to the Overseer...”
Butch’s eyes faltered. He could see the wisdom in that, even from his mortal enemy. Amata was the Overseer's own daughter, after all. If they went too far, the consequences could be severe. "Maybe you're right. We can deal with her later. C'mon, Tunnel Snakes. This little bitch isn't worth our time."
"Whatever you say, Butch. You're the boss. Tunnel Snakes rule!" Paul Hannon cheered. He used to be such a nice boy... Butch and Wally had really corrupted him.
"Fine. Let's go." Wally Mack shoved Oliver roughly as he passed, but Amata steadied him before he fell over.
"Thanks for getting rid of them. Assholes. You've always been a good friend," Amata said, helping Oliver back onto his feet.
Oliver smiled at her. "Just repaying you for all the times you've helped me."
The two made their way into the room, taking their seats at their respective desks. Butch and Wally were glaring at him, but he just gave them a small smile.
Mr. Brotch began addressing the class. "Well, now that everyone has managed to find the classroom, we can finally get started. No talking and keep your eyes to yourselves." Butch snickered. "Yes, I'm talking to you, Mr. DeLoria."
"Sure thing, Mr. Brotch," the vault bully replied innocently.
"Unless anyone else has an insightful comment, let's get started," Mr. Brotch began.
The slide on the projection flipped over several images to depict the scenario of each question, which asked what the test taker would do in each hypothetical situation. The questions didn't seem to relate much to occupations in the vault. Each one had four options to choose from but few of them were things Oliver would actually do. The tenth question was the strangest. Mr. Brotch read it as if he was bored with saying it.
"Question ten. Who is, indisputably, the most important person in Vault 101? He who shelters us from the harshness of the atomic wasteland, and to whom we owe everything we have, including our lives?"
There were four options like the previous nine questions but they were all the same. 'The Overseer'.
"Pencils down! That's it, people. The infamous G.O.A.T." The lights turned back on. Mr. Brotch began walking over to his desk to receive the tests. "I'm sure most of you didn't find it so bad. For the rest of you, well... there's always openings in the maintenance department. Don't forget to hand in your test before you leave. You don't want to know what happens to people who fail the G.O.A.T. You can have the rest of the day off to celebrate, or to pray, as the situation warrants." He chuckled.
He wasn't sure what to put for a lot of the questions. Most of the students got up to line up at the desk. Amata was first. "Here you are, Mr. Brotch. I hope I did okay."
"Nothing for you to worry about, Ms. Almodovar. Let's see... very well done!" He sounded impressed. "Looks like it's the supervisory track for you."
"Thanks. See you tomorrow," Amata turned and left.
Butch was next in line. "Yo, teach. I'm done."
"Ah, Butch. Can I say that I've been looking forward to this day for a long, long time? Allow me to savor the moment," Mr. Brotch began. "Now then, let's see... Really?... Interesting..." Oliver knew Mr. Brotch was drawing it out because he was loving every moment of it. The teacher enjoyed tormenting those who deserved it. "You've surprised me, Butch. I didn't think you had it in you. Hairdresser! Who would have thunk it?" Oliver smiled at hearing that.
"You're so full of it!" Butch asserted. "That isn't true!"
Mr. Brotch offered no further words, so Butch walked off grumbling to himself while Paul Hannon stepped up to the desk. "I'm all done, Mr. Brotch. I guess. Uh... Wait a second. Can I have it back? I think I need to change one of my answers..."
"Just calm down a minute, Paul. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about," Mr. Brotch assured him. "Let's see... Mmm hmmm... Yep. Just as I thought. You're slated for the engineering track. Congratulations, Mr. Hannon. You've passed the G.O.A.T."
"Oh, gee. That's not so bad. Engineering. All right!" Paul sounded pleased with his result. Oliver could only hope he'd like what he got...
Christine Kendall was next. "Mother can't wait to find out if I'll be going into science or home economics," she told Mr. Brotch as she handed in her test.
"Science. Ah, well... Perhaps. Let's see what the G.O.A.T. says," Mr. Brotch said with a bit of unease. "Well, well! Maintenance department! I... hope your mother will be pleased. I'm sure Stanley will."
"What? That's impossible! I'm telling father! He won't let you get away with this!" She ran off out of the room. She always was a bit of a snob...
Susie Mack, Wally's sister, was next. "Here. What's this stupid test say I'm going to be doing for the rest of my life?"
"Now, now, Susie. Is that anyway to talk about the infallible G.O.A.T.?" Mr. Brotch chided. "You will be..." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You'll be going into teaching. No doubt due to your gift for communication. Not to worry, it isn't as bad as it sounds."
"About what I figured. I guess I'll see ya around, Edwin." Ugh. How could anyone talk to Mr. Brotch like that?
Her brother Wally Mack was next. "I'm finished. Here." He threw the test onto the desk and turned to walk away.
"Don't you want to find out what you got?" Mr. Brotch asked.
"Nah, I already know what it says. Hardly takes a rocket scientist to crack that joke of a test." He walked off.
Oliver overheard Mr. Brotch mumble to himself. "Well I'll be damned, that little so and so. Wish I'd thought of that when I was sixteen..."
Freddie Gomez was the last one to head up and seemed very distraught over his test. However, it seemed he was the, errr... new vault masseur. Wow...
When everyone had left, albeit Amata was waiting outside the classroom, Oliver was the last to head up to the front of the room to hand in his test. Mr. Brotch looked it over, his eyes widening. “Looks like you’ll be working with your dear old dad in the clinic, Mr. Carptenter. You’re the new vault doctor, it looks like. Something you should excel at."
Oliver smiled. Yes! He got what he wanted.
“Nice to know the G.O.A.T. occasionally gets it right. You know what they say about monkeys and typewriters. Maybe I should start calling you Doctor Carpenter!" The teacher chuckled.
Smiling to himself, Oliver left the classroom, where Amata was waiting for him.
"Hey, wanna head to the diner for some lunch?" she asked.
Oliver nodded. He was craving a Nuka-Cola and some Cheezy Poofs.
Oliver Carpenter began his official doctor training the next day. Reading medical texts and helping his father and Jonas in the clinic became the norm for him. Granted, it really wasn't all that different from what he'd been doing previously, to be honest. The day to day life of Vault 101 was all Oliver really knew. Hanging out with Amata, enjoying time with his sister, working in the clinic, reading books, outsmarting Butch, avoiding the Overseer. Little did he know it would only be three years later that his life of monotony would drastically change and never be the same again...