Mama Murphy was taking care of Dogmeat up at Sanctuary, but before we could go collect him I needed to take care of a few administrative matters at home. I had a stroke of luck in learning that both Winter and Trashcan Carla were in town that morning, so I gave each of them a few ASAM sensors to bring to the Diner and the Farm. Jake had loaded them up with the hacked firmware, and they would allow those settlements to run up some additional defenses under the supervision of the ASAM sensor.

 

Next, I listened to a report from Callie about the plutonium well. In addition to Jake's workshop, we'd all seen the night before how it energized most of the remaining street lamps. During our initial cleanup of the city, we'd found a warehouse with a large store of spare parts for the lamps; at the time we'd planned on using them as a strategic store of aluminum and steel for rebuilding the town. Now, Callie argued, we could instead use the parts to assemble a number of new street lamps and light up the whole downtown strip. I approved the plan, along with an idea that Old Paul came up with - to run some hoses down to the flooded part of the service tunnels and start pumping out water to purify and store, reducing the towns dependence on shipments from Abernathy Farm. I also suggested looking into putting some rain barrels on the top of some of the flat-roofed buildings around town.

 

Finally, after going over Holly and Preston's report on the raiders, I had to make a decision on their fate. They weren't nice people - they fervently denied the worst crimes like cannibalism, but admitted to making a living off murder and mayhem and didn't seem especially repentant. As we'd suspected, both them and the Gunners we'd seen had come down from Lowell looking for easier pickings. Apparently the brushfire war that had been raging in southern New Hampshire for years was ramping up in intensity, and the region was getting too hot for small groups like theirs. As for Cain, that had mostly been dumb luck. She'd traveled there looking for the comm hub and walked right into their camp. She'd offered money for the hub - which the raiders had no idea about - and they'd lured her into the bunker with the promise of a deal, then bum-rushed her guards. The double-cross was just plain old untrustworthy raider business, nothing more consequential.

 

Part of me thought I'd be doing Bart a favor if I just killed and disposed of them, but I remembered how adamant he'd been about needing more hands for his farm, so I made them the offer: they could put on the punishment suits and learn to work the farm, and they'd have a chance at eventual citizenship. That road might take years, I warned, and it would be hard, but they'd keep their lives. Maybe not too surprisingly, they all accepted.

 

 

I also asked Carl and Willy if they wanted to volunteer for the new farm. Carl was quick to let his girlfriend choose, and Willy-Bones shook her head. "I'm a city animal," she explained. "I'd go crazy if you stuck me out in the woods."

 

"Are you sure?" I asked, "it'd be easier work than hauling scrap back and forth all day."

 

"Yeah," Willy said, "this ain't too bad, actually kind of what I was doing before, right? Me and Carl, we'll keep working Concord if it's OK with you."

 

"Sure," I said, then turned to the three condemned prisoners. "Alright, you three report to the general store. Lily will fit you with punishment suits. I'd advise you take a nice long visit to the outhouse before you report in - it'll be the last shit you take in a long time."

 

As they filed away, I wondered if I should assign Carl and Willy to cleaning up the museum. Preston would probably need a janitorial staff, and those two had been behaving themselves surprisingly well since they came under my power. I decided to table the idea until I got back from my impending trip to Boston, but also resolved not to forget about it. If nothing else, it would establish a 'carrot' for good behavior that might improve our experience with future prisoners. 

 

Not long after that, I bumped into Cain in the café.  She had her own idea for the prisoners, which she floated to me. 

 

"While you were out around town, I took a look at that vibrator bondage machine in your apartment," she started.

 

"You were in my apartment? Without my permission?" I asked, turning to give her a bit of a side-eye.

 

 

Cain rolled her eyes at that. "So this is where you make your big stand on private property, Comrade Overseer? Come on, this place is a commune - free love, sharing property, working for free. So yeah, I was in your apartment."

 

"Fine," I admitted, "but I'm not sure I like it. What's the situation with the machine?"

 

"Well, I think I tuned it up just right for your height and build, so next time you use it you should have a great ride. But it got me to thinking about how it works, and I realized that I have a huge gap in my data set."

 

"Where are you going with this?" I asked. I knew that Cain didn't deserve me getting snappy, but she was dancing around whatever she wanted and I had a lot of things to do that day.

 

"I want a man," she said flatly.

 

That got a laugh out of me. "Don't we all, honey. How's that a problem you need to bring to me?"

 

"No, not like that. I need a man to experiment on. Can you give me that raider man you're about to send to Ridge? I'd only need him for a few days."

 

"Do I want to know what you have in mind?"

 

"I want to strap him to the rail to take some measurements."

 

"What. kind. of. measurements?" My patience was growing thin with this game Cain was playing of making her ask in little drips of information.

 

 

She canted her chin in apparent annoyance before explaining, "well, first I want to see if it'll work for fast-charging the biosaline tank on a male operator. So I'll put a catheter in him, empty his bladder, then make him ride the vibrator until he reaches orgasm. Then I'll drain his bladder again, into a graduated collection bag so I can measure the volume. There isn't a lot of good research on whether or not men have the same kidney reaction to orgasm as women, and if this trial bears it out then when have some important new data."

 

"Did I ever tell you about the story behind that device, doctor?" I asked.

 

She shook her head, "no, I assumed you had it built to gratify your sexual needs, at least before you met Piper. Is that not it?"

 

"We built it as a torture device, to interrogate prisoners."

 

"Oh, that's clever," Cain said, nodding. "Overstimulate a captive to disorient them? Along with the pain from the electric shocks that could be a very effective conditioning device as well."

 

"We only used it once, and then I banned the use of torture in interrogations. I don't want to create that kind of society."

 

Cain approached me, standing side by side with me as she considered the artwork Lily had decorated her lunch counter with.

 

 

"You're an odd one, Ellison," she said. "You're so quick to discard social mores most of the time, but other times you're remarkably conservative in your thinking. I'd have thought this was an easy ask, but you surprised me again."

 

"I don't actually object to the experiment, for what it's worth," I conceded. "But you need informed consent, free of defects from power dynamics or coercion. Surely one of the citizens here in Concord would be happy to volunteer?"

 

Cain shrugged, "maybe. Jake turned me down, but perhaps there's another more adventurous person. But to tell you the truth I was hoping to run this trial multiple times, using future prisoners as well."

 

"It's OK to start small," I told her. "Worry about your big N-value later."

 

"Fine, you win," Cain said. "Do you have a few minutes? Can I run some more ideas by you to see if any of them stick?"

 

I considered taking a rain check, but Cain had already come up with a few really good ideas, like the radiation-resistant plastic suit that Piper had worn in the access tunnels, and I felt like I had a fiduciary duty to the community to hear her out. So we sat down on the couch and I listened to her suggestions.

 

 

By the end of our chat, I was fully convinced that Cain had earned her doctorates legitimately. Her suggestions for public health improvements and more sanitary living arrangements sounded like an excellent blueprint for advancing the community welfare. Her idea for compulsory blood and semen donations... perhaps not so much. Her argument was cogent enough, but I countered by pointing out that we didn't have the cold storage facilities for the samples, and even rudimentary blood-typing would be difficult in the rough conditions here. And requiring regular semen donations from the men? Part of me found the idea a little arousing, but it ran counter to the concept of eliminating gender-based societal divides and seemed to offer limited value.

 

"Au contraire," Cain had said, "without even getting into the fertility dimension - and in an irradiated hellscape like the Commonwealth understanding whose sperm is healthy and potent is genuinely valuable - there are a number of glandular secretions and hormones that blood tests simply don't give consistent results on, but that come out loud and clear in the semen."

 

"That's interesting to learn, but I feel like its a marginal benefit that I have to weigh against the social impacts of imposing a compulsory, sex-linked duty on the citizens. Unless you're proposing to do a - what was the term you used, Skene fluid?" She nodded. "A Skene fluid test on the women at the same time."

 

Cain stopped for a second then, entirely surprising me, kissed me full on the mouth. Pulling back she said, "Ellison, you're a genius!"

 

 

"You're absolutely right," she continued, "I can't believe I didn't think of it: we should be collecting samples from the women's Skene's glands for regular analysis. I knew it was a good idea to talk to you about this."

 

"OK, hold up, hold up," I said, trying to put the brakes on her rapidly-accelerating speech. "I'm still no sold on this idea. If you want to push for something like this, you need to demonstrate more than just marginal gains. And frankly, you need to have the staff and the facilities to actually make it happen. Start smaller, seriously. Find a few volunteers for a pilot if you want, but I'm not ready to start ordering people to participate."

 

Cain looked dismayed, but far from dejected. "Yes, I supposed I'd need a proper clinic and I'd need nurses to assist with the process. We'd need a proper laboratory as well. All right, Ellison, you've given me a lot to think about. I'll follow up with you when I have the infrastructure in place."

 

"Cain, listen," I said, "I want you to understand this very clearly. I am only going to impose health policies if it serves the public interest and if the benefits outweigh the costs to the community. I can see in your eyes that you think the main benefit is giving you a good base of research data. I won't accept that on its own as justification. Come back to me with something better. OK?"

 

Cain nodded, "absolutely. We'll talk again when you come back from your trip."

 

And then Cain was disappearing into the distance to do... something? How she got from this point to pitching her next project, I'm still not entirely sure. By the time she was done distracting me in the café, however, Lily had finished outfitting the new convict laborers with their punishment suits, and I assigned a pair of guards to march them up to Ridge so Bart could get them started. I hoped he was right about the convict farm - I harbored serious concerns that those raiders would turn out to be more trouble than they were worth.

 

With that last order of business taken care of (I consciously "forgot" to talk to Cain about the medical checkup she wanted to do), Piper and I changed out of our Vault 111 costumes in preparation for our journey back into Vault 81's sphere of influence, then headed up to Sanctury to collect Dogmeat. When we got to my house, I discovered that he was out taking a walk with Preston - that is to say, accompanying Preston on his perimeter patrol, but Mama Murphy greeted us warmly. 

 

"Well, aren't you two all bundled up," she commented as we crossed the threshold into the house. 

 

"As soon as we collect Dogmeat," I explained, "we're going back to the far side of the Charles, and Vault 81 gets jumpy when we show up in our 111 uniforms."

 

"That's a real shame," she said, patting the couch in invitation, "you've really made me a believer on this whole body freedom thing you've got going. Isn't it uncomfortable after all this time?"

 

Piper plucked at my dress, a motion that somehow transitioned into her cupping and rubbing my breast. "Feel the material - it's super soft and smooth. Vault 81 gave it to her as a gift."

 

Mama Murphy followed Piper's lead and cackled a little as the took in the texture. "That is nice," she agreed. "I would have killed for a dress like that when I was your age."

 

 

"Why do I get the feeling this was just an excuse for you two to feel me up?" I asked wryly.

 

Piper laughed, "who said it wasn't?"

 

"Ah, you two are incorrigible. Mama, at least I would have thought you'd have cooled down as you matured."

 

"How about you come back to my place and I'll show you just how much warmth I've got left."

 

I have to admit, I was a little curious what it would be like to play with someone as experienced as Mama Murphy, and with Piper urging me on we relocated to the nice house that I'd set up for the Concord refugees when they'd followed me back to Sanctuary. When we got there, I found Dogmeat relaxing by the fireplace - evidently Preston had made his way back while Piper and I were catching up with Mama Murphy. Dogmeat got up when I entered, but Mama still him with a firm, "stay!"

 

Then she turned to me, smiling as she dropped into a comfortable looking chair. "Alright, Charley. Or is it Overseer now? Either way, how about you get on your knees and show me your technique. It's been a long time since someone as pretty as you went down on me."

 

Piper laughed, "Mama Murphy, you're on fire today!"

 

She smiled, "it's my secret love potion, sweety. Does the trick every time."

 

I got on my knees as instructed, and the older woman guided me into her ashen bush with a light grip on my cheek.

 

 

"Ah, that never gets old," she purred as I ran my tongue along her clit. "You really know how to make an old lady happy. More of that now, and harder."

 

I leaned in, though the position wasn't the greatest for my neck, and probed further with my tongue. Her skin felt delicate under my lips, and for the first few laps she was a bit dry, but as I tickled her and stroked deeper and further, her moisture returned. Unbidden, a thought passed through my mind - Mama didn't have the medicinal smell so common of old people back before the war. I leaned back to stretch my neck and put voice to the thought, but Mama Murphy guided me back into place with both hands on the top of my head.

 

"You're going to stay down there until you've satisfied me, kid," provoking another laugh from Piper.

 

 

'Satisfied,' it turned out, meant making her come twice, a process that lasted about twenty minutes. Only then did she release me to stand up and stretch my sore neck. 

 

"Well done, kid. You've got some good technique. Now pull that dress over your head and let me appreciate that nice body of yours," she told me. 

 

Before I could comply, though, Piper interject a question. "Blue, did you walk all the way here barefoot?"

 

I looked down and realized that she was correct. "You know, I didn't think about it, but you're right. I didn't even notice."

 

"I wonder if that's related to how you bounced back from that spike," she mused.

 

Mama Murphy was apparently disinterested in this conversation, tersely opinion. "Of course it is. And it's not the only thing you'll find's become easier. I've seen some very interesting things in your future, but for now get out of that dress before I report you to Preston for breaking dress code."

 

Grumbling a little, I acquiesced, posing for her while she ogled my body. "Happy now?" I asked.

 

 

"Very much so." I could see the skin crinkling at the side of her eyes as she smiled. "I don't think the Charley I met back at the museum would have done any of this just at my asking. You've become a much less... guarded person."

 

I poked a thumb at Piper. "That's part her influence. Part Winter. Part Cain."

 

"Ah, yes," Mama mused, "Cain. That's a name as old as time, isn't it? Keep an eye on her, Charley. You and her have more in common than you think. Haha, but don't worry too much. Just worry... a little."

 

"That's not very reassuring. Cain is a strange enough person to begin with, and now I've got your visions adding into the mix."

 

"What can I say?" Murphy cackled, "it's a blessing. Now you take Dogmeat here and get on your way. There's people waiting for you at Diamond City... and waiting for you..."

 

The long pause dragged on, and I asked, "is everything alright, Mama Murphy?"

 

"No, kid. The sight... it's fading. I... I saw where you were going, where so many of us will go in the future. It was right there, sprawling out in front of me, and now I can't remember. Don't worry, Charley. I'll find it. And eventually... you'll find your son."

 

"Are you sure there's nothing more you can tell me?" I pressed.

 

"I'm tired, kid. I need a nap. I've only got one more thing to tell you. Don't put that dress back on until you're on the other side of the river. And get your friend out of that jacket. It's important."

 

I laughed, "well, if that's all..."

 

"That's all," the old woman agreed. "Now it's time for you to leave, and it's time for me to catch some shut-eye."

 

We parted on those words, and Piper folded up her jacket to store in her bag along with my dress. All it took was a quick "come on, boy, time to go," to get Dogmeat on his feet and following, and we left through the front door with the warm sun shining on my body.

 

Behind me I heard Piper saying to herself, "I don't know what Mama Murphy was up to, but the view is fantastic." I wiggled my butt a little in acknowledgement of the complement.

 

 

As we approached the bridge, I saw Preston coming the other way and waved. In that moment of slight distraction, I stepped on something with a painful crunch, and I cursed.

 

"Are you OK, Blue?" Piper asked, hustling to my side. I raised up my foot to look at it, and it seemed I'd stepped on a corroded metal box. The pressure of my step had caused most of it to crumble, but a few jagged bits had cut into my foot. Blood welled up, but once the initial flare of pain subsided it wasn't too bad. 

 

"Fuck, that stings," I muttered. 

 

"Hold on," Preston said as he drew closer. "We better clean that wound." He opened a small pouch at his side and drew out some sterile cloths and a small container of hydrogen peroxide. He wet down the cloth and dabbed at the wound, and then stopped.

 

"Shit, Charley, you're cold. Most people flinch when that hits a raw cut." Then he glanced down and said, "wait a sec..."

 

Piper nodded slowly. "Very interesting."

 

At their commentary, I looked myself and I could see that once the blood was wiped away, all that was there on my foot was a tiny line, like a papercut... and even that seemed to be shrinking.

 

"Well, you don't see that every day," Preston said. "Been hitting the hydra too hard?"

 

"That's the strange thing," I said, "other than a little dose the doctor gave me last time I was in Diamond City, I haven't touched the stuff."

 

"OK," Preston said, "that's just spooky then. I think you need to have that new doctor down in Concord take a look at you. Changes like that, mutations, that's never something you mess around with."

 

 

"I'm due for a checkup as-is. I'll get it done first thing when we're back from Diamond City. And speaking in due dates, when are you going to move into the Museum? I'd like to have you around in Concord - it'll make planning easier, and I'd appreciate your advice from time to time."

 

"Soon," he promised, "once we get this new border security operation under way. I'm just busy every day getting ready, no time for moving. Speaking in which, do you think you can stop by Graygarden on your way down to Diamond City? I really want to try and get them onboard with us. Since Ada left, we just haven't had the robotics expertise I want on hand, and we rely a lot on those robots Tracey's been putting together for fire support."

 

"Graygarden? I don't see a problem with that. Why are they so important to the robots?"

 

"You don't know?" Piper asked incredulously.

 

"Graygarden's a farm totally run by robots," Preston explained. "They make very high quality, clean vegetables, and they'll sell to anyone who comes to see them, but so far they've kept to themselves. But I think you - as someone from before the war - might be able to convince them to side with you."

 

"That makes... some sense," I admitted. "But it also sounds like a long shot."

 

"It is," Preston agreed, "but we have to try. Hey, I just realized something."

 

"What's that?"

 

"When was the last time you wore your glasses?"

 

"I... I don't know, now that you mention it."

 

"You wear glasses, Blue?" Piper asked, surprised.

 

"I... used to," I said, "but apparently now I don't."

 

"And you can see fine?" Preston prompted.

 

"Yeah, it seems like it."

 

"OK, definitely see that doctor when you get back. And see if she can give you an eye test. This regeneration thing you have going on is freaking me out."

 

I considered hugging Preston as I took my leave, but decided instead to shake his hand. "It's freaking me out a little, too. I'm glad at least that Sanctuary's in good hands."

 

We parted ways then, Piper and I heading for Abernathy farm before cutting south towards the old rail line. As we passed, I could see the farmers had already put the hacked ASAMs to good use, with a checkpoint set up at the east gate. It had the same ramshackle look of most of the ASAM creations, but it was definitely built with protection in mind.

 

 

"Who goes there?" asked a woman behind the barricade as we approached.

 

"Charley Ellison," I said, "I'm on the way down to Graygarden on business."

 

"Oh, shit," the woman said, "Overseer, I didn't recognize you out of uniform."

 

I laughed, "Oh, come on, it's not that different. But we're going into Vault 81 territory after the Graygarden visit so I left the vault suit at home."

 

"As you say, ma'am. Carry on."

 

"Speaking in being out of uniform, where's your vest and helmet?"

 

She looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry, ma'am, we don't have any on hand yet. We just finished building the checkpoint a few hours ago."

 

"OK," I directed her, "send a runner down to Concord and draw as much gear as you need from the guards there. That barricade won't do you any good if you aren't equipped to fight from it."

 

"Yes, ma'am," she said. The newly-minted guard was clearly trying to be all professionalism, but I sensed a streak of discomfort in her bearing and I decided not to push it.

 

"Alright, carry on then. Glad to see the defenses are coming together so well."

 

After a few hours' walk, Graygarden came into view from the south, and I turned to Piper. "OK, toss me my dress. I think I'm going to need it here."

 

 

Piper shook her head emphatically. "Not till you're on the other side of the river. Mama Murphy said so."

 

"Listen, Piper, if these are smart pre-war robots, like top tier artificial intelligence, they're going to want to deal with someone who seems like a 21st century person. And everyone wore clothes then."

 

"I don't know," she countered, "I don't see a lot of clothes on the billboards and posters that are... everywhere."

 

"Yeah, but that's because... listen, it's a long story. If I'm going to do diplomacy with them, I need to look the part."

 

Piper settled her stance. "Mama Murphy seemed to have a really clear idea of what was waiting for you. Now, I don't count myself as superstitious, but she kind of freaked me out. I think you should follow her advice."

 

Dogmeat barked in seeming agreement.

 

"Fine," I said, "but if they don't want to talk to me, I'm blaming you."

 

True to the hype, Graygarden was staffed entirely by robots. Most of them seemed to ignore us, until we entered the central greenhouse. Then, a polished white unit floated over to us on a jet of flame, waving its manipulator arms in either greeting, or a threat of dismemberment - at the time I couldn't be sure. Her sultry voice, however, put my fears to rest.

 

"Welcome to Graygarden, darling," she said, "love the outfit. Going to a birthday party after this? Did you know that this is the Commonwealth's only hydroponics facility run entirely by robots?"

 

Something about her voice picked at a memory and I tried to run it down. "Hey," I said, "this place seems familiar. I think I saw something on the news about it, before the war."

 

 

"Huh," Piper added, "didn't realize we were walking through a historic landmark."

 

"Yes," the robot purred, "in fact construction was completed mere days before the war. We were able to survive only because our creator made us self-sufficient, something I regularly reflect on with gratitude. Hopefully the residences we keep fed through our continued operations share similar sentiments."

 

"I imagine they must," I said. "I've heard the produce here is very high quality."

 

"We've had to make compromises," she said with a bit of  rueful tone, "but we still aim for perfection. You see, there are two kinds of robots here. The worker drones carry out labor and maintenance. We supervisors; that is, myself, Green, and Brown, possess sophisticated cognitive processes that allow us to identify risks and opportunities and adjust the farm's business strategy accordingly. Consider, for example, the orchard." She waved a circular-saw appendage towards the outdoor part of the farm.

 

 

"When it became clear our apple trees would not survive much longer, we razed the original orchard and replanted with the emergent, radiation-adapted mutfruit trees, allowing our fruit production to go on uninterrupted the next season."

 

"Smart," said Piper. "I bet you folks brew a mean cider."

 

The supervisor, who I - correctly - guessed was named White, adopted a rueful tone. "That is something I've discussed with Supervisor Brown almost to the point of exhaustion. And the point of exhaustion for a robot is a very, very distant one. Sadly, our creator was a teetotaler who did not provide us with the knowledge needed to produce alcoholic beverages, and our experiments were bitter - and highly toxic - failures. We have concluded that in the absence of a specialist like a Drinkin' Buddy robot, this will remain a non-alcoholic establishment."

 

"Too bad," I said, "but I'm impressed you made the effort anyway."

 

"Thank you, dear," she said. "but it's really just a testament to the genius of our creator, Doctor Edward Gray."

 

 

"What became of Doctor Gray?" I asked, "was he able to live out his life here after the war? He sounds like he would have been a valuable mentor."

 

"Sadly, like so many others, he died in the war. It was a terrible loss. He had arrived early that day for work; he was so enthusiastic about the project. If he had only slept in, he might have been close enough to the Vault to get to safety."

 

"Hey was supposed to be a Vault Dweller?" Piper asked.

 

"Oh yes, darling. His wife was a very high ranked Vault-Tec employee, so he was guaranteed only the best accommodations."

 

"Really?" I asked, "what was her name?" In my mind at that moment, I was screaming, no, this can't be, this has to be a coincidence.

 

"Why, Doctor Valery Gray," White said. "Overseer Valery Gray, I suppose." If she had a smile, I'm sure she would be beaming with pride. I, meanwhile, wanted to vomit.

 

I took a step back, almost tripping as my foot landed at an awkward angle. White shot forward with uncanny speed and grabbed my arm with her pincher claw, keeping me from losing my balance.

 

"Are you all right, my dear? You look a little faint."

 

"It's just... I knew Valery Gray too," I said.

 

"Our Edward, robotics and artificial intelligence were his great passions. They were rivaled only by his wife's passion for biology and psychology. Her passing must have been a terrible blow for you. That is," White seemed to perk up, "if you knew Doctor Gray and you are still alive, is she still alive? Has she perfected some technique for life extension?"

 

"No," I said, thinking to the skeleton I'd seen in the Overseer's office. "I was in cryogenic suspension when it happened, but Valery Gray is... dead." I said the last word with more force than I planned.

 

"Such a tragic loss, such a tragic loss indeed. She had so much still to offer to the world," White grieved.

 

"I only knew her in a... narrow relationship, because of our different roles in the Vault. What makes you say that about her?" I was angry that the robot seemed to idolize a monster like Gray, but I couldn't help but be curious about the things she was saying.

 

 

"Well, to begin with, her work on non-surgical, functional female-to-male gender confirmation surgery was," she sighed for emphasis, "groundbreaking. In a time when every new child was so important, she helped hundreds - maybe thousands - of men be who they truly were meant to be, and even father children without medical intervention. And her work on speed-learning and biofeedback, while still in their penultimate stages, had incredible promise. Imagine a world where a young person could join the workforce at age 15, with a graduate-level college education! We'd have licked the communists in a generation with that kind of brain power at our disposal."

 

"This is a side of Gray that I never got to know," I admitted.

 

"I'm not blind, dear," White said, "I can tell that you didn't have a friendly relationship with Doctor Gray. I take it that she was not an easy person to work with?"

 

"You could say that, yes," I agreed.

 

She waggled a manipulator that ended with some kind of tapering tube. "So often that's the curse of genius. Her husband, our Edward, was like that too. He couldn't abide working with other people, and they couldn't abide him. But he was happy here on the farm, and we are all grateful for the time he gave us."

 

"Now there are a few other things you should know," she pressed on. "Talk to Green if you need supplies. Talk to Brown if you are looking for work. We don't hire humans for the farm, it would detract from our brand image - no offense meant, I promise - but there are often many other jobs that need a helping hand, and we have an ample supply of caps to compensate."

 

"Who do I talk to about... international diplomacy?"

 

White paused for a couple seconds. "Darling, I'm not sure if you're making a very obscure joke or asking a serious question. Can you perhaps rephrase?"

 

"Vault 111 has opened, and we are rebuilding civilization in this area. We've agreed with Vault 81 that we will work on this side of the Charles River while they work on the Boston side. I'd very much like for Graygarden to join with us and become part of the community we're forming."

 

"Vault 111," she whispered. "Every time I hear that name I think of our Edward. I wish he had been able to join you in there. But I must ask, darling. Vault 81 is quite insistent that you all are frauds."

 

"I think if you ask them now, they'll give you a different story. It was all a misunderstanding, it turns out."

 

"A convenient development. I will dispatch a worker drone to Vault 81 to confirm your story. I hope you won't take it personally."

 

"No," I agreed, "that's a prudent approach. When you get confirmation, would you like to work with us?"

 

"Tell me, my dear, what do you think of the water?"

 

Taken a bit off guard by the seeming non sequitur, I considered my answer for a second before speaking.

 

"It's awful," I finally said. "I'm shocked that the radiation level is so high after so much time."

 

"Hmm, hmm," she chortled, "isn't it, though? And it's worse than you might imagine - the radiation content is actually up compared to a few years ago. This simply won't do, and so I would like to offer a favor for a favor."

 

 

"Tell me more," I said cautiously.

 

"Most of our water comes from the Weston treatment plant, though as the pipe pressure has diminished over the years we have build dedicated feed pipes to the Charles. Our water purifier was once sufficient for the river water, but that too is changing."

 

"Do you know the cause?" I asked.

 

"The old Weston plant, I'm afraid. Such an eyesore even before the war, positively filthy now. Our scouts have observed large amounts of sludge backing up and entering the Charles, and we surmise similar contamination if getting into our dedicated lines that run from within the plant."

 

"And my role in this?"

 

"Be a dear and pay them a visit. Maybe tidy up the place, muck out the filth a little. If you can restore the water quality level to, say, what it was five years ago and if Vault 81 vouches for you, then we will formally align with Vault 111. As a final thank-you to our dear Edward. And, I suppose, to your dear Valery. They would have wanted it that way."

 

"Can I ask a question here?" Piper cut in.

 

"Why of course, you adorable little thing."

 

"Someone told us that it was best if Blue came here, well, naked. They didn't explain why, but I'm curious what your thoughts are on that."

 

"Well of course, I always love to put my sensors on a human body. You're smooth curves and subtle lines remind me of my own gleaming exoskeleton. And when you revealed you were from Vault 111, previously undefined relationships between several variables fell into place to add credibility to your story."

 

"Oh?" Piper asked.

 

"Valery Gray was a pioneer not just in treating the ills of individuals, but styled herself something of a prophet for healing the ills of society. One of her vocal public crusades was the promotion of naturism - that is to say, abstaining from clothing. She argued that the normalization of nudity would not only breed increased self confidence among the youth, but that it would help tear down sex-based biases in our society, allowing us to fight the communists with less waste and inefficiency."

 

Piper nodded, I suspect intuiting that White wasn't done monologuing yet.

 

"It was always so striking when Alexia would visit our Edward here. She had the most perfect skin, such a strong and uncompromising stride, and she'd pull her dress from her head, almost whipping it with vigor, when she crossed the threshold. That was Valery's rule: no clothing allowed under the her roof, and she considered Graygarden her second home, so she enforced it for her daughters here as well."

 

"Sounds familiar," Piper mused.

 

I sounded too familiar to me. I had a sudden, icy tightness in my gut, and at first I couldn't place it.

 

"And now here appears one of her Vault Dwellers, also obeying Doctor Gray's rule even after her demise. It was truly touching, a beautiful triumph of genius over death itself. Tell me, and I do so apologize for not asking before, what is your name, darling?"

 

"Charley," I said, "Charley Ellison."

 

 

"Charley, you say? That's an ambiguously-gendered name. Are you a beneficiary of Doctor Gray's work? Did she succeed in expanding the Gray Protocol to male-to-female cases before her passing? What a triumph to cap an illustrious career!"

 

"Short for Charlotte," I said, "I'm sorry to disappoint. I won't rule out the possibility that she made that leap, but if so I wasn't told about it."

 

"Well, we can hope," White mused. "Alright, off you go. Clean up our water while we check out your story. Chop chop!"

 

As we left Graygarden, the reason for my disquiet managed to connect to my conscious mind. Valery Gray, pioneer of biology and psychology, had experimented on me for a long time. And after, I emerged from the vault with a number of new urges and idea. Including some that sounded eerily similar to Gray's own principles. How many planks in my Ship of Theseus did Gray herself lay down? And if so, was I perpetuating her work even after her death? Was I doomed to become the second coming of Valery Gray?