Where do I begin?  I suppose that if I wanted to I could simply jump right into the mess of the journey I’ve underwent, but that might catch a few of you off guard.  No, I’d best simply begin where it began and let it play its course until the end.  I shall warn you:  it has been quite a bumpy ride.

I suppose the most important thing to begin with would be all about my life in Stable 85...and how it so abruptly ended.  Most of that first day is a blur, between the chaos and the impossible nature of everything that happened.

Science.  Science was a thing that each and every pony in my Stable learned to be obsessed with.  Even if they hadn’t naturally wanted to become a scientist or medical researcher, they didn’t have much of a choice.  Rather than being cushioned from the harsh reality of the world we ponies had created, our Stable strove to instill in us the importance of learning from the past and further advancing our knowledge to the point where such a catastrophe would never happen again.

We were limited in our knowledge of the ‘Goddesses’ Celestia and Luna, and instead studied history as it was.  We studied recorded facts and figures, not superstitious wishes of optimistic ponies.  We were all raised to be realists, not absurdist fools.

It is with this intention that each pony’s life was decided upon entering the world.  At birth, each colt and filly was taken from their parents to a secluded level of the Stable.  It was during that time of seclusion that we were raised to be geniuses and assistants to those geniuses.  Under the careful guidance of our Overstallion and his computer mainframe, we were placed on the tracks that would lead us to our cutie marks.

And, in turn, our occupations within the science-driven shelter.

Of course, being fueled by science did not mean that there weren’t unicorns among our ranks.  Most of us, having been raised with the values of science, opted to have our horns removed to aid in our independence from magical energies.  Those that did not remove their horns resorted to only using basic-level telekinesis spells for handling scientific equipment.  I was one of the few who opted to keep what made me different from my neighbors.

My knowledge of magic was limited, even for a Stable 85 unicorn, but I had my reasons to retain my attribute.

At any rate, whether we were capable of magic or not, we were raised with the belief that science was the sole provider for our Stable lives.  And, with our strict study regimen, most of us found our special talents before we were ten years old.  Those of us that found ourselves out of luck in finding what we were destined to do even when we reached age sixteen were forced to take the C.A.T. (Cutie-mark Aptitude Test).  It was with the results of the test that the professors and lecturers of Stable 85 gained a bearing on which direction to steer each individual pony.

My C.A.T. showed excessive prowess in computer engineering, medical diagnosis, and technological repairs.  It was decided that I would be trained to become the next Stable Implant Specialist.  I was to become the single most important pony to each and every last colt and filly in the Stable.

At birth, after being moved to the educational level of our home, each and every last newborn had a mechanical implant placed into their brains to aid in the quick and excessive development of critical thinking and motor skills.  It was this implant that allowed us to retain the information we were fed twelve hours a day, seven days a week.  At the age of ten, many of us were proverbial geniuses, even if we hadn’t found our special talents.

And when we did finally receive our Cutie Marks, we were given a name more fitting of the position.

After all, Stable 85 was devoted to the continued advancement of scientific research and practices.  If that devotion required a mental manipulation of the residents within, it was a justifiable sacrifice.  Besides, the implants didn’t hurt anypony, simply altered their thinking processes to incorporate photographic memory and intense critical thinking abilities.  I once knew a pony that could solve a rhombic dodecahedron cube in less than three minutes.  Such puzzle solving ability would never be possible without the aid of our implants.

So, thanks to my C.A.T. scores, I was placed under the supervision of the Stable’s current implant specialist.  Each day that the new generations of trainees and remainder of blank-flanks went to class, I was sitting in the implant specialist’s lab learning everything there was to know about each individual machine and chemical.  

The implant specialist was a kind stallion, albeit very critical of his equipment and resources to the point of not allowing me to so much as lift a hoof unsupervised.  He explained that each item within the lab was highly volatile and capable of inducing horrendous side effects if not placed under very controlled environments.  He did, however, let me watch him as he constructed each implant that he had to give.

“This,” he began suddenly one evening while I sat quietly on a stool staring at his workstation, “is a very delicate procedure that requires the utmost of care.”

I knew better than to say anything, as he had informed me that outside distractions were very taboo in his line of work.  If the thoughts he formed were created by his own mental process, they were fine.  If his thoughts were disturbed, he would be required to stop and clear his head.  It seemed quite boring to me, and I questioned my ability to handle such a delicate job.

He measured out a cup of some gelatin goo and poured it into a mold he had pulled from a drawer on his desk.  “This goo will act as an impact-resistant covering for the actual implant’s inner machinery.”  He repeated the process into an identical-but-opposite mold he had placed to the side and explained, “The mold will have to sit for an hour before I can begin placing the components into it.”

I watched him place the gel-filled molds back into his desk and draw out a small polished oak box.  With a flick of his hoof, the box opened and a thick cigar flew into his muzzle, the box closing immediately after.  The scent of the cigar wafted to my nostrils, causing me to gag slightly.

He scoffed, “You smoke, Wits?”

I shook my head silently.

“You should.  Sure, it’s hell on your lungs, but it takes away the stress.”  He quickly looked me over before scoffing, “But what do you know about stress, huh?  You’ve been a student your whole life.”

I sensed he was about to go on one of his ‘your life only gets harder from here’ speeches that he’d given me at least a dozen of since becoming his apprentice.  I adjusted on the stool and prepared mentally for the oncoming rant.

I was caught off guard by him getting up from his chair and trotting toward the door.  With a light chuckle he sighed, “Walk with me, son.”

“Yes sir.”  I slid from the stool and followed the old stallion into the halls of the Stable’s Intelligence and Dexterity Research Level.  

As soon as the automatic doors of the lab slid closed behind us, he pulled a match from his lab coat and struck it against the first electrical switch we passed.  The smoke from his cigar shot up into clouds and flooded my lungs, sending me into a fit of coughs and tears.  He placed an arm around my neck as we continued down the halls.  By the time we reached the elevator, the smoke had thinned into a tiny string enough to allow me to see where we were going.

The elevator closed us in, the smoke slowly pooling in the air.  I looked into the reflective silver of the lift’s walls and compared myself to my father.  We were quite similar in appearance, albeit a bit less wrinkly.  We had the same peach coat, although his looked considerably worn out.  Our manes were identical in both style and color.  The short, unkempt brown seemed to run in our gene pool.  The only differences between us were the green of my eyes versus his blue and his lack of a horn.

He sighed, “Following in your old man’s hoofsteps...  I’m proud, Wits.”

“Thanks.”  I’d never been close to my parents.  Hell, nopony ever was.  We were separated at birth and only allowed to see them once a week after Sunday classes.  So, naturally, he didn’t feel like a father figure should.  In fact, to me, he was just another scientist in the Stable.  I still referred to him as Dad or Father in private situations, out of convention.

He took a deep draw of his cigar before groaning, “You’ll be the next Professor Lucid, son.  You, out of everypony in the Stable, will be the heir to the implant specialist position.”  He plopped a hoof onto my back and coughed, “You have bragging rights against all of them!”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of bragging about being one of the dozens of scientists in our home.  Science wasn’t anything special in Stable 85.  You couldn’t brag about being a scientist, no matter what kind of science it was.  Even if you were special, you weren’t special.  Sometimes, you weren’t the only one qualified for the job you were meant to fill.  Most ponies had competitions or partnerships for some of the less jarring occupations.

“You sure don’t say much, do you?”

“No sir.”

He let go of me, stood up straight, and stared into the same mirror I had.  I could see him struggling not to examine me.  I was his son, and his heir.  But we might as well have been strangers at that point.  I never spent extended amounts of time with him, even after Sunday classes.  He was always busy prepping the next implant or mixing chemicals for Medical.  I knew him barely less than I knew my mother, and I had a sinking feeling that that’s where we were going.

I didn’t hate them.  I mean, I couldn’t because they didn’t have a say in how the Stable was run.  It still felt wrong for them to try and be parents after virtually a whole sixteen years of absence.  The tension in the elevator rose as I started thinking about our strained relationship.

I was relieved to hear the ding of the lift and swoosh of the doors opening.  We were greeted by a guard pony as we exited the box.  “Good evening, Professor Brain, Wits.”  She bowed to the elder scientist and gently waved at me.

“Good evening, Sentry.  Is Dr. Scarlet available?”  My father took a puff of his cigar before crushing it out in a nearby ashtray and placing it in his pocket.

Sentry was just a few months older than me.  She’d earned her cutie mark the week before the mandated C.A.T.  Despite her father’s objections, the riot shield on her flank designated her as one of the Stable’s security guards.  She’d volunteered to be the officer in charge of the Medical Level, a tough job due to the comparative value of the materials found on the level.  Even with everypony’s devotion to science, we still had criminals and troublemakers.

The guard waited for the cancerous death to be removed from sight before answering.  “She is, sir, but not for long.  Her next patient is due in ten minutes.”

“That’s fine.  We don’t need long.”  Wrapping his arm back around my neck, he guided me down the length of the small hallway and through a large red door.

As we passed through the threshold, we were sprayed by some sort of decontaminant and scanned for any dangerous weaponry.  After an awkward few moments of being scanned with a solid green light, the door at the end of the small corridor opened and the one behind us closed.  We headed right on through, not wasting a single second of the few minutes we had to speak with Dr. Scarlet.

We’d barely entered the room swallowed in a deep blue haze before our muzzles were wrapped with a filtered cloth.  Before I could get my bearings on the situation, the doctor was standing in front of us with her blond mane in a lazy bun.  The green scrubs she was dressed in complimented her peach coat.  Her yellow eyes glowed brighter than the blue haze of the lab.  Even behind her mask I could see she was happy to see us.

“I was hoping you would visit today!  The Overstallion showed up earlier asking me about progress on your research.”  She embraced my father tightly almost as if she hadn’t seen him in years.  Knowing how demanding Stable 85 life could be, it was very possible.

Professor Brain rolled his eyes and groaned, “My research will be done when it is done; he understands that.  You can’t rush such a complicated procedure.”  He returned the mare’s embrace, nuzzling her on the neck.

I felt like I would gag.  Even if they hadn’t been my parents, I still would’ve been disgusted.  Public displays of affection are simply unnecessary and inconsiderate.  I vocalized my disgust with a simple, “Gross…”

The two immediately released their hug and returned to more professional poses.  Mother giggled, “Oh lighten up, dear.  It’s not as if you haven’t seen romance before.”  She trotted over to the far side of the room and turned on one of the consoles.  A random image of a certain hallway within the Stable appeared, two ponies locked in a seemingly-intimate embrace.

I scoffed in disgust at the lack of decency most ponies in the otherwise-civilized Stable had.

Father chuckled, “No need to be so upset, son.  After all, they are ponies, not machines.”  He fell serious in an instant, and the entire mood of the room shifted a few shades darker.  “I have the mold hardening right now.  I have the necessary components ready to be placed.  There’s only one problem I can’t decide how to handle…”

“And that would be what?”  Dr. Scarlet picked up on the topic shift flawlessly.  Her tone altered appropriately.

Professor Brain placed a hoof to the back of his head and muttered, “I need a test subject.  A newborn whose parents are willing to let me test the implant…”

Mother switched the monitor off as her eyes opened wide.  She shook her head and stamped her hoof against the table beside her.  “Absolutely not, Brain!  I will not ask somepony to sacrifice their child’s safety for the sake of the Overstallion’s ambitions!”  She glanced my way, almost as if she wanted to compare the request to something else.

Father groaned, “I understand how you feel, but this is a technological marvel!  Imagine immortality in your hooves!”  He tried to find a way to logically justify his request.  Finally he settled on saying, “Even the first few mental implants had negative side effects, but the formula was finally perfected!  Now look at everypony in the Stable.”

“But this is different!” she snapped.  “The test subjects for the mental implants way back when the Stable first closed were fully grown ponies!  We can’t test dangerous machines on colts and fillies!”  She plopped onto her hind and crossed her hooves over her chest.  With a grunt, she turned her head away from the professor and closed her eyes.

“Yes, but if we don’t experiment on the young, we won’t know what kind of effects it’ll have on those that are still growing!”  Professor Brain was determined to get the doctor to give him a newborn for a subject.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about what I was hearing.  My father wanted to experiment on colts and fillies with a potentially-fatal operation that had never been tested before.  If it had been his own idea, I would’ve accepted it as his genius at work.  But…it was the Overstallion’s guidance that helped him with his research.  I wasn’t sure how I felt.

I spoke up, “How young can the subject be before it’s too old?”

My parents looked at me with utter shock on their features.  Professor Brain mused, “I suppose as long as the pony is still growing, it won’t matter much.”

“Anypony that isn’t an adult, then?” my mother asked.

“Correct.”

I considered it for a second.  My mom was right when she said it would be wrong to do the first test of whatever it was on a newborn.  If the filly died, then imagine how devastated the parents would be!  And if the test subject only had to not be an adult, then I was young enough to be the subject.  But then again, I was supposed to be my dad’s heir to the implant specialist position.  If something went wrong, then who would take up his job?  

Oh well.

“I’ll do it!” I cheered, glad that I would be able to settle the dispute between the scientists and protect a newborn from being the test subject.

“Oh, no you won’t!”

“Very well, then.”

My parents sent each other death glares.  My mother very angrily objected to my suggestion, while the professor in need of a subject was happy to accept my assistance.  I could feel the tension grow between the two of them.  They both turned toward me with completely differing expressions on their faces.  I thought they were going to charge at me like children fighting for the last cupcake in the pan until Sentry interrupted through the intercom.

“Dr. Scarlet, the Fit family is here for their appointment.”  The crackling of the intercom broke through the tension almost instantly.

Mother approached the intercom and slammed the button with her hoof, almost ready to explode in anger.  She said through gritted teeth, “Take them to the prep room; I’ll be there in a few seconds…”  She released the button and glared at my father.  “This isn’t over, Brain!  You are not experimenting on our son!”

“But he volunteered, dear!  He’s old enough to make his own decisions!”  The desperate stallion waved a hoof at me, almost as if waiting for me to back him up.

I stared at the floor until the doctor finally left to meet her patient.  Without saying a single thing, we headed back through the security doors to be scanned and decontaminated again.  Sentry nodded in farewell as we passed her, Professor Brain recovering the stub of his cigar.  It was a silent trot back to his lab…

“I suppose,” Professor Brain tried to start a conversation as he carefully placed the internal components of the implant into the mold, “that if you’re going to volunteer for such an experimental procedure, I should explain what the implant is meant to do.”

I nodded in agreement, reverting back to the ‘no talking while thinking’ rule.

He continued, “Ever since the day the Stable door closed, it has been our job as residents to advance science and develop new types of machinery.  It is with this goal in mind that the Overstallions have always desired new kinds of implants to help our newest generations to flourish in science.”  He fell silent for a moment as he carefully adjusted the tiny wires and circuits in the mold.

“In recent generations, our Overstallions have been pressing ever harder for us to fabricate a subdermal implant capable of speeding up the body’s regenerative properties.  The Overstallion wants a regenerative implant that can heal wounds and restore bones to shape without the need of medical equipment.”  Looking satisfied with his handiwork, he pressed the two halves of the mold onto each other like a sandwich.

So that’s what kept our implant specialists so busy all the time?  The Overstallion wanted to be able to heal wounds without medicine.  Admittedly it was a smart idea in theory, but the possibility of creating something so advanced just seemed beyond our power, even as Stable 85 ponies.

I scoffed, “How’s that working out for you?”

With a chuckle, the professor placed the mold back on the table to bond.  He sighed, “It’s been a long and tedious process, but I believe that I’ve been able to finally complete the formula for the regenerative chemicals.  All I have to do is plant the special implant into somepony’s hypothalamus and we’ll see if it works.”  He pulled a large binder from his desk and plopped it down beside the mold.

“What’s that supposed to be?”  The binder was at least five inches thick, and it was almost exploding with papers.  The two covers were held closed by a rotary lock looped through holes that had been drilled into them.

My father entered the combination in a few fluent motions and the binder exploded open, several random pages floating gently into the air.  He sighed longingly, “This is all of the research that every implant specialist has made over the generations of Stable life.  It’s because of this research that I’m on the verge of perfecting the Overstallion’s desired implant.”  He patted the stack of bound papers comfortingly as if it were a beloved pet.

I rolled my eyes at the affection shown toward a stack of scientific reports.  “So let me guess, I’ll be continuing that research when you retire?” I tried to sound as un-enthused as I could, but I felt a curiosity growing in my gut.

“That’s only if I don’t manage to perfect the formula before I die.  But I need test subjects to find out if alterations are even necessary,” he placed a hoof over his eyes in exasperation.  “Your mother obviously won’t ask anypony to donate their child to science, and she looked adamant about you not being the test subject…”

I leaned forward in my chair, beginning to understand his desperation.  Generations of predecessors failed to find the formula.  If he could manage it, he would go down in history as the greatest scientist to ever grace our world.  I chuckled, “Well, I’m willing to do it, if we can get Dr. Scarlet off our backs…”

He looked at me with pride in his eyes.  “Willing to do what it takes for the sake of science…our ancestors would be proud.”  He gathered the scattered papers and placed them back in the packed binder before locking it again.  “Sadly, we may have to take this to the Overstallion if your mother doesn’t let up.”

Almost as if summoned by our conversation, the intercom popped to life.  The Overstallion’s gruff voice called out with urgency, “Professor Brain and Mr. Wits, I require your presence in my office immediately!”

I couldn’t tell if he was angry or just being the Overstallion, but we both agreed not to leave him waiting.  My father pushed the button on his desk and replied, “Right away, sir.”

He jabbed me urgently in the side and we both took off at a brisk trot down the halls toward the elevator.  Once inside, the button that registered the Overstallion’s level as our destination lit up and we immediately began our ascent up to the highest floor of the Stable.  The ride was short and quiet, knowing that anything we said would probably be used against us once we reached the office of the pony that ran our lives.

It had happened many times before.  A pony was called to the office for something trivial and ended up muttering something blasphemous.  The visit ended up in suspension from pay for several weeks more often than not.  My father couldn’t afford that, and I certainly wouldn’t be the one to cause him to say something questionable.

Our Overstallion was very conscious about the residents’ opinions of him.  He tried to be kind, but his kindness was outweighed by the fact that he separated parent from child on day one of the child’s life.  He tried to atone for the emotional scars that such separation caused, but most ponies just dismissed him as a dictatorial prick.  But, in the least, he did keep Stable 85 on track to advanced sciences.

The elevator slid open and we stepped off with anxious minds.  The Overstallion’s penthouse was different from every other floor of the shelter in that it was decorated in ranges of colors that contrasted grotesquely to the dull gray of every other level.  Although it was a steep contrast, I felt as if it’d be a nice décor for somepony’s room.

The first room of the level after exiting the elevator was the business center of the office.  A large desk sat in the center of a small square room.  Behind the desk was a door that led to the Overstallion’s private chambers.  Sitting in a cushioned chair at the desk, eyes glued to a green computer monitor, sat our leader and employer.  He flashed us a smile before turning the monitor off.

Waving a hoof in front of him he chuckled, “Have a seat, you two.  Our guest will arrive shortly.”

We looked at each other questioningly and did as we were told.  Professor Brain asked, “What’s all this about, sir?”

“All in due time, Professor.  All in due time.”

With that we fell silent, waiting for this unnamed guest.  After several seconds, the elevator opened again and my mother stepped forward.  She was still dressed in her green scrubs, this time with specks of blood all around them.  She wiped her forehead with a rag before approaching us.

“You called for me, sir?”  She immediately noticed us sitting in the chairs and her muzzle fell into a frown.

The Overstallion laughed, “Why I sure did, Dr. Scarlet.  I couldn’t help but overhear your argument earlier down in the medical labs.”

I’m not sure why, but a knot of dread wrenched into my gut.

He continued with a grin, “I believe it was something about ‘not asking for sacrifices to the Overstallion’s ambitions’?”  His smile faded to a frown.  “Now my dear, I’m not asking for sacrifices.  We simply must test our new technology to ensure that it is safe for everypony to use.”

“Yes sir, I understand that.  But we can’t simply risk killing a newborn filly so that we can see if a machine will kill it or not!”  Mother stamped a hoof in protest, her eyes lighting up with a fire of determination.

“I am aware of the unethical mindset of Professor Brain, Scarlet,” he glanced at Father before continuing, “but he is correct in thinking that a small risk is worth the possible benefits.”

Dr. Scarlet turned toward us and whined, “You came to the Overstallion with this?!  How could you go behind my back like that?!”

“I-I didn’t do anything!  He just called us a few minutes ago!”  They both turned to him in anticipation of an explanation.

He smiled and shook his head.  With a sigh he explained, “I’m always concerned with the conversations of my elite researchers.  I didn’t need provocation to review the recordings, my dear.  As such, I also came to learn that your son has volunteered to be the test subject of Professor Brain’s newest creation.”  A monitor on the wall flashed to life with a video of my father pressing his molds together and drawing out the binder.

I chuckled sheepishly, “Y-yes sir, that’s correct.”  Despite my mother’s objections, I was willing to try out the new tech instead of using a newborn.  Besides, what better way to learn what I’d be doing to ponies than actually having it done to me?

The Overstallion laughed, “Such devotion to the greater good of science is commendable!  If you survive the procedure, you shall be rewarded greatly for your risks.”  My mother opened her muzzle to object, but he cut her off.  “There will be no further discussion.  As soon as the implant is ready, I expect there to be an operation.”

Professor Brain groaned, “Yes sir.  I need to implant the new Fit child with her implant, first.  The regenerative device should be ready to be implanted once I’m done.”  He lowered his gaze to the ground, trying to avoid my mother’s glare.

“You are dismissed, professors.”  The both of them headed for the elevator.  I decided to hang back for a minute to allow them a private ride.  I could tell that words would be had.

The Overstallion took the private moment to scoff, “Such petty emotions are not acceptable in our line of work, Wits.”

I looked at him with confusion, unable to decrypt his message.

“Your mother has a kind heart for one whose job is to split families apart.  Those emotions are a hazard to our progress.  What’s a few casualties if it means others get to be happy?”  He had an ambitious glow in his eyes as he elaborated.

“Maybe you should ask the potential casualties,” I spat.  It was highly uncharacteristic of me, but I couldn’t help but scorn his seemingly-arrogant tone.

He sighed, “I would expect that answer from Scarlet’s child.  Brain, on the other hand, would be very disappointed.”

“Maybe he would, but he isn’t here right now.  Besides, I’ve already said I’d take the risk.  I’m the potential casualty, and it doesn’t bother me.”

“Because you are too much like your mother.  You don’t want poor fillies to ‘potentially get hurt,’ so you’d rather take the pain yourself.  While I admire the courage, the reasoning is quite foolish.”  With that, the Overstallion fell silent and turned back toward his computer.  It was obvious to me that this was a sign of dismissal.

The elevator returned to the level and I boarded it alone.  I decided to return to my father’s lab to prepare for the surgery he would be performing.

I was laid out on a medical bed, my hooves strapped securely down and a muzzle wrapped around my…muzzle.  My father was dressed in his surgical coat, a tray of medical equipment beside him.  My mother stood on my other side dressed in nurse scrubs, standing in for his usual assistant.  I suppose she wanted to be with me if something went wrong.

Professor Brain spoke slowly, “Okay Wits, you’re going to have to be conscious during the procedure so that we can judge whether or not your mental capacity is altered.  With a prototype device, there’s no telling what might happen.”  He lifted a scalpel in the cleft of his hoof and reached out toward the top of my head.

Dr. Scarlet whimpered, “I’ll be right here with you if anything happens.  But your father’s the best neurosurgeon in the Stable.  I have faith everything will be fine.”

I wanted to tell her that faith was stupid.  Hell, I wanted to tell them that I wasn’t even nervous.  It was a not-so-simple medical procedure that could end in brain damage or potential death.  At least it was me and not some innocent filly unable to object.  I felt a sting of pain shoot through my horn as the scalpel dug into my coat.

“This will not feel like a pocket of sunshine, son.  Try to hold real still.”  He dragged the scalpel a few inches from the first incision, cutting open a small slit to work with.

He carried on, cutting a square of flesh away so that he could open my skull and place the implant.  It hurt, but I wasn’t about to flinch away.  I had to have been medicated, because the procedure didn’t hurt near as bad as it should have.  I could barely stand getting a scrape on my arm from the rough edges of my computer desk, let alone having my head drilled into…

He carried on the procedure like normal, drilling an opening in my skull where the implant would need to be positioned to take effect.  All the while my mother grasped my bound hoof tightly, and I could almost hear her whispering through the sound of the medical equipment’s whirring.  Eventually, after several long minutes of intense pain, the drill was removed from my head and the tissue was placed back where it belonged.

I’m not sure on the details of the whole procedure, just what I could actually feel, but nothing appeared to go wrong.  I vaguely remember losing consciousness for I don’t know how long, and when I next woke up, Professor Brain pulled out a box of flash cards from the bottom shelf of his medical tray.  He passed the cards to Dr. Scarlet, who set them on the side of the bed.

She removed my muzzle and explained, “To make sure that no wires got crossed, we’re going to give you a little test.  Answer each question as best as you can, okay?”

“Sounds good to me…” I mumbled, the medication apparently dulling my senses.

She held up the first one.  I read it carefully and answered without hesitation.  This carried on for several long minutes as we went through each card multiple times.  She finally placed the cards back in the box and sighed in relief, “Everything seems to be in order, dear!  The procedure was a success!”

My father chuckled, “I knew it would be.  We just have to see if the implant itself works now.”  He shined a small spotlight onto the spot where he’d cut away the flesh, examining it closely.

He leaped back with a large smile on his face.  He’d found whatever he was looking for.  Just as he opened his muzzle to cheer something at us, annoying alarms began to ring out all over the place.  A sense of dread filled my newly-probed mind.  The intercoms crackled to life.

“Attention all residents, I am putting Stable 85 under security lockdown!  The integrity of our shelter is at the moment being compromised!  If you are not already, return to your chambers and lock yourselves in!  I repeat, return to your chambers and lock yourselves in!”  His voice was cut off by a static crackle, leaving us with nothing but the sound of sirens going off.

My head started to throb as the medication began to lose its effect.  I watched as my parents ran to a terminal on the far side of the room and started pushing buttons with hastened determination.  Large metal shutters began to cover the windows and doors to the room, blocking us off from the outside levels.

I felt a slight rumble shake the room, sending my gurney swaying from side to side.  Suddenly, one of the light fixtures up above snapped from its perch, falling ever faster toward me.  My parents barely had time to hear my frightened groan before the electrical device impacted me.

I watched sparks shower from the impact point, my gurney collapsed, and I was out like the light that had hit me…

---

Cold.  I was unbearably cold.  My skin was crawling, my head was pounding, and my stomach was churning.  I tried to open my eyes only for a sharp stinging to send them shut again.  The alarms were still blaring, accompanied by a scrambled static sound that made me want to rip my ears off.  I could barely hear a clicking sound coming from where the surgical terminal was supposed to be.  Every few minutes my father’s voice would cut through everything with a curse.  I felt a comforting pressure on my chest.

The pounding in my skull suddenly stopped.  I tried to open my eyes again, and once they adjusted to the brightness of the room I was able to see the disaster that was the surgical chamber.  Lights had fallen all over the place.  Medical machines were scattered here and there.  A red light circled around the room, the product of the security alarms that continued to drill into my ears.  Finding the energy to shift my head, I turned to look toward the medical computer.

Standing in front of the green glow, rather than the semi-familiar frame of my father, I saw a tall figure hunched over the keys.  It had lanky limbs reminiscent of the Minotaurs from our biology textbooks, complete with hands and fingers.  The fingers were hastily pecking across the keyboard.  The lower half of the creature looked like a normal pair of legs like a baby dragon would have.  They supported the creature as it stood over the computer.

The screen flashed red briefly and the creature let out another curse.  When Professor Brain’s voice registered in my ears, I did a double take.  Rubbing my eyes gently with odd-feeling hooves, I croaked, “Father?”

The man turned around instantly, staring right at me in shock and fear.  I managed to get a long look at his figure.  He was lean, dressed in the same coat my father had been before I passed out.  His eyes were the same shade of blue that shined in the fluorescent light.  His skin was the same pasty peach.  The wrinkles on his face were identical.  His hair had the same shade of brown and an identical unkempt style.

He sighed, “Thank God you’re okay!”  He started to rush toward me before remembering the computer still existed.  Looking heartbroken, he turned back to the monitor and continued to press keys.

The weight on my chest lifted hastily and a feminine voice cheered, “You’re alive!”  I felt arms wrap around me, and before I could react my face was buried in long golden hair.  Familiar perfume wafted to my nostrils.  This creature holding me was…Dr. Scarlet?

I muttered, “What’s going on here?”  I tried to wrench away from the embrace but found my body lacking the willpower.

The female voice cried, “When the light hit you we thought you were a goner!  It’s nothing short of a miracle you survived!”  She squeezed me tighter, obviously completely relieved by my consciousness.

My father’s voice called back, “The sparks from the fixture short-circuited the implants in your head, shutting your brain down.  I guess it was only temporary…thank God.”  The monitor flashed red again, and this time he sent a fist through the screen.

“Who are you people?” I asked, fear beginning to fill me with adrenaline.  I wanted out of that weird place.  Those weird creatures didn’t help my situation.

The woman released me, backed up a step, and stared into my eyes.  I saw a sorrow in hers that went beyond primal fear.  She stammered, “S-sweetie, it’s us…  Y-your parents…”

“Dr. Scarlet?  Professor Brain?”  There was no way.  Those things weren’t ponies!

“Yes, son.  It’s us.  Try to calm down…”  The man’s non-computer-shattering hand clasped my shoulder and I instinctively snatched it away with a hoof.

Except…it wasn’t a hoof.  In the brief second they were in the same frame, I noticed the similarities between my appendage and his.  I had hands.  That’s why I felt so weird.  I had fingers.  The crawling of my skin became much more apparent.  I felt like my body was trying to rip itself apart.  I resisted the urge to help it and instead tightened my grip on my father’s hand.  I stared into his eyes.  The comforting blue called to me.

I took a deep breath and groaned, “Can I see a mirror?”  Something just felt off about everything.  The world seemed less colorful than before.  It felt darker.  My own skin looked dimmer.

“Of course you can, dear.”  My mother approached me with a small mirror in her hand.

Taking it shakily with my altered appendage, I stared at my own face.  My muzzle was gone.  The features were flat aside from the nose that protruded outward.  My eyes were the same, as was my hair.  I couldn’t place a name to what I was.  I wasn’t a Minotaur, but that was the closest creature I could compare to.  The two other people, apparently my parents, were the exact same.  The last thing I noticed was the sickly green of my patient gown; I was certain I hadn’t been wearing it before.

I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off as the tone of the alarm shifted from annoyingly loud to cripplingly high-pitched.  The mirror in my hands shattered to pieces, the monitors of the room shattered, and my father’s reading glasses exploded.  Shards of glass flew everywhere before the professor drew a metal object from his belt and made the alarm’s speaker explode.  It was suddenly completely silent.

Mother sighed, “Where’d you get the pistol?”

Pistol?  The word felt familiar.  I was almost certain I’d read it in one of our textbooks.  I believe it was defined as a small firearm that uses gunpowder and metal to send projectile death at high speeds.  Why would there be pistols in our Stable?

“I always keep one on me.  You never know when the stray kid’s going to try and act ‘different.’”  He flipped a small switch on the side and stuck it back in his belt.

My mother tittered, “Kids these days...  But don’t you think a pistol is overkill?”

I couldn’t blame Professor Brain; I still can’t stand the ungrateful brats who think they don’t have to contribute to society...  But a ‘Vault?’  We were Stable residents, so what could she have meant?

A sudden voice called out into the surgical room, distracting me from my thoughts.  The gruff nature of the voice was unmistakably the Overstallion’s!  It sounded frightened and urgent, as if there wasn’t much time.  “Pr-Professor Brain, if you can hear this message please raise your hand!”

My father did as he was instructed while he searched for the speaker the voice was coming from.  Before he had a chance to continue his search, a small portion of the surgical room’s wall slid open.  The metal casing that was meant to protect us went with it.

“Our Vault has been breached, Professor.  They’ve already raided the research centers, stealing every piece of tech and paper of research they could find.  That includes your work on the regenerative implant…”  The Overstallion’s tone shifted from frightened to sad as he continued, “They are on their way to the surgical level.  You need to evacuate immediately or they will not hesitate to kill you.  The tunnel behind you leads to an unmarked elevator directly to my chambers.”

It sounded like he wanted to continue speaking, but he was cut off by a loud whistle and the sound of an explosion.  A loud whirring filled my ears as a small portion of the solid metal casing around the chamber started to glow red.  My father gripped my hand tightly and pulled me from the bed with no consideration for my inability to stand on two…feet.  I stumbled forward and fell into my mother’s waiting arms.  She lifted me back to my feet and wrapped one of my arms around her neck.  She shifted me over her shoulder and started stumbling toward the secret passage.

Professor Brain stepped in front of us and shoved the pistol into her hands.  He groaned, “You two get to safety; I’ll try and hold them off!”

“Are you mad?!  I’m not leaving you!” Dr. Scarlet protested, stomping a foot hard enough to rattle my head.

The scientist wrapped his arms around us tightly.  I believe that was the first time he’d ever hugged me…  His voice trembled as he spoke to us.  “Your lives are more important to the Vault than mine.  Without my research, I’m useless.  But Wits has the secret to immortality in his head!  You have to get him to safety!”  Almost instantly, he gripped our clothes and shoved us into the secret passage.

We fell to the ground in a heap, watching as he stepped away from the threshold.  He mouthed something to us as the wall behind him exploded into molten shrapnel.  The sudden sound sent my ears ringing and my head pounding again.  I clutched at my temples in agony and stared into the smoke-shrouded surgical chamber.  I barely had time to register the faint beams of red before the wall slid back to its original place, blocking us from the chaos on the other side.  I had no way of knowing whether Father was alive or not...

Scarlet wrapped her arms around me and leaned close to my head.  If she had said anything, I had no clue what it was.  My ears were ringing horribly as her grip moved to my hand and she continued to guide me down the passage as she had earlier.  My legs didn’t want to carry me.  I was so confused I felt like vomiting.  My skin continued to crawl.

I was in no shape to run.  I was in no shape to think.  Everything was wrong.  Everything felt wrong.  I wanted to drop into a ball and cry.  I was deaf, sick, and all-around going insane.  I couldn’t even tell myself what I was.

We reached a sterling silver elevator after what felt like hours of running.  We stepped in as the tunnel behind us rumbled dangerously.  I felt like weight was being lifted from my shoulders as we rocketed up to the topmost floor of the Stable.  The ringing in my ears deteriorated to a simple whistle, and I could hear my mother sobbing gently under the whir of the machine.  I couldn’t blame her.  Even if I was going crazy, at least my lover hadn’t just most likely sacrificed himself  in vain to save me.

The doors opened with a ding and roughly a dozen metallic objects spun to face us.  Twelve people with firearms all pointing directly at us, ready to protect themselves.  Among them I saw a creature resembling Sentry and an old one dressed like the Overstallion.  Except those two weren’t looking at us.  They were arguing with one another.

The head of the pack of defensive residents lowered her weapon and scoffed, “Glad you could join us, Dr. Scarlet.  I see your son survived the implant.”

Another resident ran to embrace us.  She stammered, “Dr. Scarlet, thank God you’re alive!  W-we need your help!  We have so many injured residents!”  Without waiting for a response, the newcomer ripped me from Scarlet’s support and I had to struggle to hold myself steady.

The crowd of people scattered, tired of being cramped up in front of the elevator.  I decided to limp toward the Overstallion-looking creature.  As I approached I caught wind of his argument.

The figure resembling Sentry scoffed, “I should be down there defending those families!  We can’t just let them die!”

“You mustn’t be so foolish, Janet.  We have no chance against those invaders.  If you go back down there, you will die.”  The unmistakable gruffness of the voice sounded almost challenging.

The guard screamed, “Overseer or not, you’re just a selfish asshole!  Those people are all going to die if we don’t do something!”  She raised a fist as if to throw a punch, then lowered it in defeat.  She fell to her knees with tears streaming from her eyes.

J-Janet?  Overseer?  But…  Dammit, what happened to me?!  I was losing my mind, without a doubt.

I sighed, “What the hell’s wrong with me?”  I fell back on my hind in exhaustion and confusion.  The Oversta…The Overseer walked over to my side slowly, examining me intently.

He crouched down and asked, “How do you feel after the surgery?”

I took a second to consider the inappropriateness of the question.  Our home was being torn apart by some unknown invaders and all he cared about was the implant…

“Confused.  The Stable’s being ripped to shreds, my dad’s probably dead, and everypony isn’t a pony anymore!” I spat.  I could tell by his expression that he didn’t understand me.  He considered what I said carefully.

“What did you call this place?”

“I called it a Stable because that’s what the hell it is!”

“And what does that make us, horses?  Perhaps the implant is fogging your brain at the moment.”

His patronization did nothing to lighten my mood.  Horses.  I could’ve facehoofed at his snide remark.

Scarlet interrupted my unusually violent thoughts by placing her hand on my head like a dog.  She scoffed, “What are you doing to my son, Overseer?  Haven’t you done enough with your research?”  She pulled Brain’s pistol from the pocket of her scrubs and handed it to me.  I took it without a second thought, not even caring what the point was.

“I haven’t checked the monitors since I spoke to you.  Can I assume the professor is no longer with us?”  The Overseer sounded a mix of sad and angry; losing his top scientist and generations of research would be a tough blow to recover from.

“That’s right.  Brain’s dead,” Scarlet spat.  She stomped over toward the guard, Janet, who was still kneeling in place.  

Sentry--the pony from my Stable who was undoubtedly named Sentry--had wanted to protect ponies from harm, that’s why she was excited to be a security guard.  Even if this guard wasn’t the same person, it must have been hard for her to do nothing.  It was all because of the Overseer.  He never warned us.  He never tried to warn us.  He kept the impending doom quiet.  He had to have known something would happen, but he didn’t say a word.

The doctor placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and sighed, “If you want to save those innocent people, then you can’t follow the rules all the time.”  She shot the Overseer an angry glare.  “I’m going down there, no matter what anyone says.  You’re welcome to come along.”

“Absolutely not!” The Overseer snapped, grabbing my mother by the wrist and pulling her away from the guard.  “The Vault is a lost cause!  We have to evacuate if we want any hope of surviving!”

Mother wrenched her wrist from the old man’s hand.  She scoffed, “Do you honestly think we can survive up there?  We have just as good of a chance of running these intruders off as we do finding a stable community!”  With minimal effort, she shoved the old man out of her way and stomped toward his main office where the main elevator waited.

Janet wiped the tears from her eyes and drew her pistol.  Getting up and taking her place beside my mother, she sighed, “If I’m going to die, it’ll be trying to save others!  You can stay here and hide if you want, Overseer.”  The door slammed shut before he had a chance to respond.

The rest of the Vault residents stared on in disbelief.  Those two were committing suicide and we all knew it.  The Overseer groaned, “It will be a shame to lose such valuable members of our crusade.”  He took wide strides toward a small computer sitting on a table opposite the emergency elevator.

He projected his computer monitor onto the wall opposite from the main elevator, where an abnormally large blank space had been left.  It was almost as if the space was left for that specific reason.

The computer was playing a video.  It took significant amounts of storage space to record a moving picture, especially with sound.  While we maintained security footage, most of it was deleted upon review.  This had to have been an important video.  The figure in the video looked menacing, bulky and shining in the light above it.  I couldn’t see any skin or hair on this creature.  It looked to be fully cloaked in solid metal clothing.  I...was impressed, honestly.

The figure spoke in a gruff, dictatorial voice.  “If you can hear this message, then I assume you are the Overseer of Vault 85.  If this is the case, then you have two options.  The first of which is the recommended path:  open the Vault peacefully and evacuate immediately, leaving your technology and research for the Brotherhood to recover.  The second option is much less clean:  do not heed this warning, and give us a reason to raid the Vault manually.  Please note, none of your residents will survive this option.  You have two weeks.”  The video ended abruptly with an explosion.  The wall it had been projected on slid off to the side.

With yet another secret passage in this Vault, I was beginning to wonder just how much I didn’t know about my Stable.

The Overseer groaned, “I received this message ten days ago.  As you may have noticed, I’ve been putting immense pressure on my lead researchers in the past few days.  You can imagine why, I assume.”  He looked directly at me as if he wanted me to answer a non-existent question.

I slammed a fist to the floor and leaped to my feet, “So…you knew we would be attacked?!”

“That’s right.  But these bastards lied, and struck several days early!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!  If you knew we’d be attacked, why didn’t you do something?!”  The rest of the crowd of Vault residents joined in, each offering their opinion on his stupidity.

I couldn’t begin to fathom his mindset.  If he was aware of our predicament, why didn’t he tell anyone?  I could understand keeping it on the down-low, but he should at least have informed Security of the threat!

“Calm down, everyone!  Hindsight is 20/20, after all.”  He approached the now-open tunnel, the rest of the residents gathering around him.  “It won’t be long before these ‘Brotherhood’ fiends find this level.  This tunnel will take us directly to the Vault entrance.  Based on security sweeps, all of the soldiers are within the lower levels of the Vault.”

One of the residents scoffed, “How can you be sure we aren’t walking to our deaths?”

“You’re more than welcome to stay here, if you want.  I don’t plan on letting these monsters get away with Professor Brain’s research, however.”  He held up a large bracelet-like object with a glowing green monitor.  Without looking at it, he pushed a tiny button at the bottom.

A computerized voice called out through the alarm systems, “Foreign materials detected in [Sectors A-Z]; preparing adequate Purge procedures.”  Shutters fell over the exits—the new passage excluded for some reason—and a red light began to circle around the Overseer’s office.  The robotic tone continued, “All contaminated areas successfully quarantined; initiating Purge in T-minus two minutes.”

“We have two minutes to get out of here.  After that, the entire Vault will be reduced to a cloud of toxic decontaminate.”  The Overseer turned on his heels and started a brisk walk into the hidden passage.

I could see the panic flood through the crowd of residents.  Almost as if they were in the sights of a firearm, they broke into a scattered dash into the tunnel.  I stood back for several seconds, trying to piece together everything that was happening.  Aside from apparently not being ponies, we were being attacked by a faceless army.  My father was probably dead, my mother following his hoofsteps, and we were most likely in the same boat.  The Overseer was going to flood the Vault in poison.  I guessed, at least, that it would keep those monsters from our research.

But then, what good would escape do us if the world above decided it didn’t want us?  What was to keep the radiation and destruction of the surface from killing us?

The robotic voice tore through my thoughts like coffee through ice.  “Purge initiating in T-minus one minute, thirty seconds.”

Snapping to my senses and feeling comfortable that my implant would keep me from dying too quickly, I stumbled into the tunnel after everyone else.  I had so much to question, but no time to do so.  I wanted to know why we weren’t ponies and what the hell we really were.  Those questions pressed on my mind until it started to throb again.  I chuckled silently at my own misfortune.

I ended up shambling right into a particularly nice-smelling resident in the stupor of my thoughts.  I immediately blurted, “Sorry, miss.”

She turned to face me and scoffed, “You’re the least of my problems right now, kid!”

“One last security sweep and we shall be on our way.”  The Overseer held up his bracelet machine again, pointing a finger at the red icon in the upper right hoof corner.  Or was it an upper right hand corner?  The sudden terminology shift was killing me just as surely as any mental illness…

The red icon flashed blue before fading away entirely.  With a large smile, the old man spun a large wheel on the door and kicked it open.  A sudden gust of…unfamiliar…air burst into the tunnel, sending most of us back a few steps.  A light shined into the tunnel that put our fluorescent fixtures to shame.  The computerized voice called out into the breeze, but the excited chatter of my fellow residents drowned it out.  The Overseer hurried into the source of the light, most of the less-amazed creatures following closely.  I stayed back to take in the change of scenery.

The air smelled…burnt.  The light looked...dark.  Bright, but dark.

And then I heard the screams.  Even the breeze couldn’t cover up the ear-wrenching screams of the creatures that had just advanced forward.  My eyes adjusted to the light and I saw beams of red and green cross my view.  A small pool of blood drained back into the tunnel.  With a loud gasp, the figure of the Overseer reappeared around the corner, yanking the door shut behind him and turning the wheel furiously as he rejoined me.  

His voice trembled as he sobbed, “O-Oh God, Wits!  They…They were waiting!  I don’t know how, but this damn PipBoy was wrong!  Th-they knew we were coming!”  He chunked the bracelet machine in my vicinity and fell to his rear.  I could see blood on his palms as he cradled his head.  “W-We’re dead, dammit!  Everything was for nothing!  This is it for Vault 85!”

I had nothing to say.  I’d never witnessed violence before.  The closest I’d ever come to it was in the textbooks about past battles.  And even then, before the Great War broke out, the most violent battle recorded in Equestrian History was between some Changelings and ponies where nopony really died…

“Well…” I tried to collect my thoughts in all the confusion, “we gave it our all, right?”

He looked at me with wide eyes and hand-shaped bloodstains on his cheeks.  He chuckled softly, “O-of course!  Our all.  That’s all we could do, right?  Centuries of work all for the sake of some monstrous intruders!  At least…someone…will benefit…”

I was going crazy.  The fact that I wasn’t a pony proved that to me.  But he was going insane.  He was literally breaking under the sight of whatever was outside.  Either it was the violence or the loss of his science, but something was shattering his mind.  I could see it in his eyes.

I fell back against the wall of the tunnel, my headache turning my legs to jelly.  Sitting gently on the ground, I simply scoffed, “Fucking science…”  I wasn’t frightened.  In fact, I sort of welcomed death at that moment.  After all, I wasn’t even sure any of it was real.  As far as I knew, I was still in the surgical bed asleep, the implant settling into its new home.

The whirring of machines stopped suddenly, the lights crackled out, and everything fell silent aside from the Overseer’s sobs.  I heard the computerized voice call out its final warning.  “Initiating Purge in T-Minus five seconds,” it called.  I closed my eyes and awaited the poison death.

I woke up in the tunnel exactly where I’d sat down.  I felt rejuvenated and fully ready to meet the trials of the evening.  The smell of bleach filled the air.  The lights had gone out.  I was in total darkness, all but for the green glow of the Overseer’s bracelet.  I crawled across the floor to snatch it up; wanting to know what kind of machine it was that had led the Overseer to killing us.  It was significantly heavier than it should have been.

A message was covering the foreground of the screen.  ‘Resetting to RobCo Factory standards as set before Vault-Tec update; please wait’ flashed repeatedly.  If the Stables were the creations of Stable-Tec, I could assume the Vaults were Vault-Tec’s doing.  Even though the whole ‘not being a pony’ thing was getting to me, I could at least take comfort in the parallels between before and after my surgery.  Not everything I knew was wrong.

I placed the effective lamp on the ground and tried to listen for any kind of foreign sound.  There were no machines at work, no hoofsteps…footsteps…in the halls, and no guns whirring to deadly life.  In fact, even the incessant buzz of the Stable’s lights ceased to exist.  The entire shelter was completely dead, more than likely both biologically and technologically.  Whether that meant that the Purge had killed the intruders or they left of their own volition was indeterminable at the moment.

I waited for the bracelet to finish its reset, wanting nothing more than to see what the Overseer had been so reliant on.  I started thinking about everything that had happened in the span of a single day.  In one day, everything fell to pieces.  All the science in the world couldn’t have protected me from it.  I guess I was still alive, and depending on your viewpoint that was a good thing.

Finally the machine beeped, the screen changing to a deep blue hue.  I looked at it carefully.  ‘Would you like to listen to the Vault-Tec PipBoy 3000 instruction manual?’ was flashing repeatedly on screen.  Considering what apparent ignorance of its use just did to us, I thought it might be best to learn the basics.

I pushed the button on the side that had the ‘yes’ option blinking beside it and waited for it to respond.  Oh boy, did it respond!  The voice that poured from the seemingly non-existent speakers of the machine was crisp and clear.  I could understand every enthusiastic syllable.

“Thank you for purchasing and/or stealing this wonderful piece of RobCo technology!  You will find within this device every trivial monitor and gauge that can help you with life in our troubling times!  To begin the instruction process, please attach your PipBoy 3000 model onto the forearm of your dominant hand.”

Dominant hand?  I guessed that was the same thing as a dominant hoof.  I did as I was instructed, placing the machine’s strap around my right forearm, and waited for the next set of instructions.

“On the bottom of your PipBoy 3000’s strap you will find a small button.  Press it and we can continue the instruction process.”

I pushed the button and nearly freaked out when the strap suddenly laced itself around my arm.  It tightened enough that I almost lost circulation before finally relaxing slightly and settling at a comfortable fit.  The sentience of the device’s strap was something to be commended.  I started to wonder why we’d never used those machines in our Stable.

“Very well done, compatriot!  Now we can begin your real lesson in battling COMMUNISM!”

Communism?  What?

“Your PipBoy 3000 contains many essential programs to help with the survival of communist raids and the punishment of those that participate in said raids!  The highest in priority of these programs is the biological scanner.  Just below the monitor of your PipBoy 3000 you will find three buttons.  The first of said buttons—conveniently labeled Stats—will display a full-body health scan.  You can assess your blood-loss, current bone integrity, and the total level of radiation you’ve encountered in the field!”

It sounded pretty handy, honestly.  I mean, it was basically a mobile doctor…just without the healing abilities.  Then again, we had medicine to cure all of the aforementioned problems, so the PipBoys wouldn’t really need to heal us directly.

“The second button—aptly named the Inventory Manager—scans your person for any and every object you are currently carrying.  Factoring in your weight and muscle mass, it can even calculate how much you can carry with you as you traverse the battlefield and loot the bodies of the commies!  It keeps track of and sorts every last item in your possession, even ones you didn’t know you had!”

It was a doctor and a checklist, eh?  I had to admit, the device was starting to sound even better than before.  There had to be a downside to all of these amazing programs, because what other reason would we have for not wearing them all the time?

“The third button opens up a list of all currently uploaded programs, messages, and maps.  It displays a list of all currently-in-range radio broadcasts, allowing for ease of access to your favorite Pro-States stations!  In this window, you can see your location relative to any recorded surroundings in the RobCo database, as well as allows you to keep a journal of your own thoughts.  All you must do is activate the Notes page and begin recording them!”

It tripled as a computerized diary with maps and music!  I was starting to think that the device couldn’t get any better!  Besides, listening to the instructions helped distract me from the fact that I was sitting in a completely silent pitch-black tunnel all by myself.

“The last program that you might find use for in dire situations is the Vault-Tec Assisted Targeting System!  Known colloquially as V.A.T.S., the Vault-Tec Assisted Targeting System allows for precision targeting of any firearm and melee weapon based on a formula of the user’s own abilities.  It allows for split-second timing on all combat actions and leaves you feeling invigorated and numb once activated.  

“The V.A.T.S. even comes with an equally-important compass program!  Your PipBoy 3000 has your back when you find yourself alone on the battlefield!  It scans your immediate surroundings for any hostile or friendly living creatures and displays red and blue tick marks respectively for each one found.”

So it was a radar system used to detect and kill hostiles.  It became apparent why we were never allowed to use these machines:  they were created to assist in the war efforts of a battle that we strove to stop from ever repeating.  I started to think about how useful the targeting and compass systems would’ve been in those moments before the Overseer opened that door.

“Now that you’ve heard the basic instructions, it’s time to put your PipBoy 3000 to work!  Go out there and show the commies what American ingenuity is all about!”  With that, the blue glow faded to a familiar green.  The sound stopped altogether and lights flickered into view over my eyes.  It was almost as if the PipBoy was projecting its readings directly into my line of sight.

I was just starting to wonder what ‘American’ meant when something much more unsettling registered in my brain…

I noticed that each and every light was red.  There were no blue tags.  If the instructions were correct, that meant that all of those creatures were hostile and that I was in a bad situation.  With a loud crackle and sudden blinding force, the lights of the Vault came to life around me.  I heard the stomping of feet approach the opposite side of the door we were ambushed at.  The wheel began to turn hastily, and muffled voices were screaming inaudible words back and forth.

One of the many red tags increased in size as the wheel turned.  I could barely look around the hall without the red tag flying all around my view.  My eyes caught the Overseer’s body lying stomach-down against the wall.  His hand was stretched upward toward the electrical switch.  The blood added an eerie contrast to the paleness of his cheeks.

I swallowed hard, realizing just what the ‘Purge’ had been.  It also occurred to me why the remaining tags were red.  

The door started to sway open, and I noticed a tight cord had been wrapped around the wheel and the threshold.  On one end of the cord sat some sort of mini-computer with the Overseer’s emblem painted on it.  As the door slid open, something blue was being pulled from the mini-computer.  I had barely enough time to admire the Overseer’s swift thinking in our last few seconds before the Purge before an electrical discharge sent me flying backward through the tunnel.

I heard the creature opening the door grunt breathlessly before I landed with a thud on the ground.  My vision faded away as my entire body locked up…

As my consciousness faded, I noticed that my skin had finally stopped crawling...

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Footnote:  Level Up

New Perk:  Daddy’s Colt- You’ve decided to follow the hoofsteps of Science!  You gain +5 to the Science and Medicine Skills.

Quest Perk:  Monocyte Breeder- Your brain’s decided it won’t take ‘death’ for an answer!  You now regenerate 1 health per 10 seconds.