And here I thought helping out with this book would be easy. Instead of writing, I’m some sort of research assistant. What I thought was going to be a quiet existence has turned into a load of collection and exploration quests. Getting irradiated, crippling myself, and testing a (very bad) Molerat repellent is how I spend my days now. And for what? All to help out that damned trader. Moira started off with standard requests, such as going to the supermarket and picking up some food, but now that we’ve nearly finished the Survival Guide she’s writing, the requests are getting more and more ridiculous. For instance, I’m on my way to Rivet City to find out how the place got started. To put it another way, I’m spending my afternoon walking around a ship, asking people how they turned this place into a town. I wish I said no to the guide. I wish I could settle down somewhere in this hell-hole and wait for my time to die. Dukov has the right idea. He has girls, and he has lots of booze. If I didn’t find him so repulsive, I might actually offer to stay and ‘help out’. At least then I wouldn’t be walking through this wasteland all day every day, performing menial jobs for everyone I walk past.
I’ve disarmed a 200 year old bomb. I’ve fixed a leaky water plant. I’ve saved a kid from giant fire-breathing ants and found him a new place to live. And what do I have to show for it? A couple hundred bottle caps and some bobble heads in my house, if you can call it that. Every now and then, I hear a news-story about myself through the static on Galaxy News Radio, but they’re still having trouble with the reception. I’ll follow in my dad’s footsteps soon enough to see what the problem is if this place doesn’t liven up a bit. Though that does mean walking through the city, not that the odd Super Mutant wouldn’t be a problem. They go down pretty easily, but from what I’ve heard, they’re everywhere, and I don’t think my sniper rifle is up to the task just yet. I miss the old days, when the biggest risk to the vault was a Radroach infestation. There’s all sort of weird creatures out here, which people are willing to let me go face for them. For instance, today I’ve came across Radroaches, Molerats, a Super Mutant, and a Deathclaw, all to help research for a book.
All this wandering, and yet I’ve still not answered the important questions. How is there still electricity? How have these cardboard boxes lasted 200 years of weathering? Why does it never rain?