Autumn's Tale, My attempt to put to "paper" the story of my FO4 character Options

[ArtemisNoir]

OK...*deep breath* here goes.
I've thought about actually writing down this story for several years, but, for one reason, or another, I've never quite managed beyond a sentence or two. Right now, my life is topsy turvy, but, ironically enough, it's also a good time to begin. Both encouraged by, and inspired by, Renee and Treydog, I've mustered the courage to finally post. Some notes first, though:

* Anyone familiar with the game will observe I'm using mods. I don't go overboard, or anything, but there are changes.
* This fiction is based on the main events of the game, but, sometimes, there will be differences in the details.
* I have tried to strike a balance between enough exposition so that anyone who doesn't know the game won't feel lost, while those that do won't be overly bored. I'm not sure how well I'm succeeding, but it's something that will evolve as it progresses.
* I'm hoping to post an installment once per week, each entry consisting of somewhere between 600 and 900 words. So... not huge chapters, but they're manageable. Right now, I'm not having any trouble getting out the words, so perhaps I'll eventually increase the schedule. As I wrote though, I'm also distracted by RL, so I'll see how it goes.

~ ~ ~

Entry 1: Awoken



Her first sensation was one of light. Searing and brilliant, it was nearly an assault after her struggle through Vault 111’s dimly lit passageways. Long moments passed, and then, perhaps jolted by realisation, as well as the view before her, Autumn gasped, reeling.

The Vault had been constructed on a small hill, and from her relative vantage point, she took in the wreckage of her home, and the small suburban neighbourhood in which she….no… they… had lived. The urge to scream and flail wildly almost overwhelmed her; somehow, maybe it was instinct, she repressed it.

Trying to steady her breathing, Autumn attempted some level of coherent thought. Time blurred, only the sun’s high position in that blazing, cerulean sky told her that no more than a few minutes had elapsed. Grappling with the stark certainty of her circumstances, and for want of a more obvious plan, Autumn slowly began to make her way down the hill, noting, despite herself, the dappled display of sunlight that glittered through the verdant canopy overhead. This, though, made her pause. The trees surrounding her towered high, their trunks gnarled and witness to countless seasons. Although she remained on the edge of hysterical panic, walking had calmed her somewhat, and it was impossible to ignore the onslaught of her thoughts.

“Those trees were hardly more than saplings..... how much time has passed?” she muttered. Her only answer was a strident caw somewhere deep within the leafy branches. “A crow?” she queried. Autumn shook her head, recalling the giant cockroaches that had impeded her progress through the vault. She, no doubt, needed to worry about whatever wildlife existed in this surreal new reality, but crows represented the least of her concerns. Another thing of note was that the path she followed, familiar, yet not, appeared oddly clear of debris, and an obvious attempt had been made to prune the bushes that sprawled alongside it. Autumn found herself unsure whether these observations provided comfort or unease.

A few steps further brought her to a small wooden bridge that traversed a glittering stream.
Miraculously, both were much as she remembered. Memories…. Autumn closed her eyes, flicking them open again as a surge of nausea threatened. Shaking, she lowered herself to the bridge, sitting down, her legs dangling just above the burbling water. Had she not seen her husband shot at point-blank range as he attempted to protect Shaun, their infant son, from kidnappers, mere hours before, and were it not for the grimy pastel-coloured rubble she could glimpse through the trees, it would have been almost idyllic.



Aware that she could not rest for long, Autumn attempted to stand. She swayed, light-headed; a sudden growling made her tense, but at a second wave of nausea she realised that it was her stomach, and she remembered her last meal, a bowl of Sugar Bombs and the coffee that had been prepared by Codsworth, their ever buoyant Mr. Handy Robot. The day had seemed normal, even finally opening the door to that persistent Vault-Tec salesman and securing their spots in the nearby underground facility, did little to indicate the turn their lives were about to take. After that, her recollections became a tumble… cuddling Shaun, discussing their plans for the day, then, Codsworth urgently calling them to the TV. They arrived in time to hear the anchorman announcing that bombs, nuclear bombs, had dropped. Panic. Horror. Disbelief. Their rush to the vault. Fragmented images flashed through her head. Autumn lurched, and vomited the contents of her stomach. Sugar Bombs did not taste sweet the second time around.

All too mindful, after voiding her stomach, that her body was now bereft of anything that might be considered food, Autumn willed herself to push forward. Up close, the jumbled, torn rubble, the homes her neighbours had lived in, and strewn human skeletons told the harrowing story of those who had not been on Vault-Tec’s list.

For possibly the first time, Autumn’s sentiments towards Sanctuary, the suburban community in which they’d lived, were without conflict, though she did reflect that its developers had likely never intended for the name to be ironic.

Walking up the gently winding road toward her old home felt strange; Autumn remembered all those times she’d ardently wished the place could be transformed into something different; she also remembered the never-ending fights with Nate as she argued that her apartment in Cambridge was a preferable location. Now, stumbling over rubble, fallen trees and the bones of her neighbours, she experienced a bleak, deep stab of remorse. A wave of memory engulfed her, and the impossible brightness of the day faded into black as Autumn teetered to the broken ground.



This post has been edited by ArtemisNoir: Apr 21 2023, 07:38 PM

[ArtemisNoir]

When I sat down to write last night, I had one of those serendipitous experiences I'm sure everyone here is familiar with, where an entire “chapter” practically composed itself within about an hour. You know...that feeling where it's as though your hands are simply the channel for some other force that has taken hold. I love moments like that, and I REALLY wish they happened more often. Of course, perhaps related, Autumn has taken control, both in-game (I started a new profile just for this fic) and in the writing... I'm still trying to work out if that is a good, or a bad, thing. Probably the former, but it did require me to adjust my future plans slightly.

Anyway, the upshot is that I feel relatively confident that I have enough material currently to post this next entry earlier than I'd expected.

~~~

Entry 2: Family Matters

Something sharp, yet cushioned, prodded into her spine, and the scent of roasting meat drifted towards her. As she returned to full consciousness, Autumn tentatively stretched, and her eyes fluttered open.

It was dark; she was laid upon a mouldering, dilapidated couch and covered by a threadbare blanket. Upon a nearby table, a single oil lamp cast its glow, making the ruined room appear almost cosy. Amidst the dim shadows, Autumn was able to discern hulking pieces of destroyed furniture, and..... gently hovering…. flames? Training her adjusting vision to their spirited flicker, she realised those same flames were responsible for the increasingly appetizing smell that wafted across the room.

“Miss Autumn! You’re awake!” The jaunty, though clearly concerned, voice was familiar, a good thing, considering it knew her name.

In a sudden flash, hit her. “Codsworth, you’re still here,” she croaked weakly.

The robot bobbed and floated to where she lay; his great relief at seeing her conscious beyond apparent. “Oh my, I’m sorry, you sound as though you’re completely parched! Here, I have just the ticket!” With a gallant flourish, Codsworth thrust a canister of purified water into her hands. “Drink that down, and I’ll finish cooking your dinner,” he chattered cheerily, returning to what seemed to be a makeshift grill.

Recalling her loss of consciousness, Autumn reasoned that Codsworth had likely found her on the road, and somehow transported her to the devastation of her former home. With gratitude, she peeled back the foil cap of the water, and resisted the impulse to down its contents in a few desperate gulps.

As she drank, Autumn also wondered how safe the water was, not to mention the meat, whatever it might be, that was sizzling away under Codsworth’s enthusiastic ministrations. However, she knew she had little choice; the alternative would be death by dehydration and starvation combined.

Although Autumn was unsure how determined she was to survive in this new world, and she had, in fact, considered using the 10 mm pistol she’d found to permanently escape into oblivion, neither dehydration nor slow starvation appealed as a means of exit. Further to that, she had to find her son.

Shaun had not been planned, and she’d never envisioned herself as a mother; upon discovering her pregnancy, Autumn’s feelings had vacillated between terror, ambivalence, and resentment. However, when he was born, something changed. Autumn knew, in that moment, that she’d always, unreservedly, protect him with every fibre of her being, no matter the route required.

Perhaps it was owing to extreme hunger and accumulated exhaustion, but the meal Codsworth had prepared was, in fact, very good. Autumn felt it better to refrain from inquiring about the meat’s origin, tasty though it was, but, to her surprise, it was accompanied by cobs of corn, vegetables that vaguely resembled roasted potatoes and some variety of sticky, purple fruit. Thankfully, Codsworth let her eat, before launching into the questions he so burned to ask.

With a sigh of gratitude, Autumn moved aside her plate and turned to the robot, whose anxiety was palpable.

“Miss Autumn,” he began, hesitating, “I am so glad you have made it out of there….alive…. but what of Sir and Young Shaun?” Her stomach churned, she had barely absorbed the reality herself, and felt unprepared to discuss it, but also she felt indebted to the solicitous robot. Perhaps he was just an AI in a floating steel shell (though startlingly human, nonetheless), but she was grateful for both his company and care. Maybe it was simply a part of his programming, but he’d always doted on Shaun, and he’d treated Nate with as much admiration and respect as he did her.

Slowly she began to speak. “Nate… he was shot… he died trying to protect Shaun from kidnappers.” Codsworth almost froze, shock, concern, and grief etched across his metallic features. Haltingly, Autumn described waking from her gelid condition to see Nate struggling with the scarred attacker; in her head, hearing, once again, Shaun’s wails as he was taken away.

It was evident the robot was struggling to compose himself; he had also remembered something. Sliding open a hidden compartment on his front, he reached in and extracted a holotape, “This is for you, Ma’am, I think Sir intended it as a surprise.”

Autumn stared mutely at the proffered tape, and swallowed. “Thank you, Codsworth,” she answered, her voice quiet, as she took the small, square object, shifting it from hand to hand. “I…. I can’t listen to this now,” she almost whispered, “Could you please hang onto it for me?”

At first, the robot appeared nonplussed, but then he bobbed as understanding surfaced. “Of course, Miss Autumn, just say the word when you’re ready.” Awkward silence descended. No doubt Codsworth remembered those final months just as well as she did.

This post has been edited by ArtemisNoir: Apr 21 2023, 07:41 PM