Chapter Text
Nigel both hated and loved the sun. He loved it when it brought back light after a storm, lighting up the wasteland where he spent his life wandering. The sun meant he was safe from those who lurked in the shadows, waiting for him to drop his defences. He always felt better knowing the sunlight helped him catch any foe in his way.
Because if you wander alone in these barren fields of nothingness, you know you're never safe. No one is safe from the horrors of the Commonwealth.
And yet alone, he walked miles of nothing but forgotten ruins of a world few remembered—Nigel was one of the many who were born way after the time when those fallen buildings had symbolised humanity's riches, not scavenging sites. He met the world as it was now, riddled with nuclear waste, barren soils, and what was left of humanity trying its best to survive. But life in a dead world wasn't easy. Nigel still held memories of a time when he helped his family on their farm; never in his life had their food stocks survived the harsh winters of the Commonwealth. It wasn't long before his pregnant mother died of radiation sickness when he was about sixteen, and his father fled for who knows where, leaving Nigel alone in the miserable wasteland he so-called home.
His life had been a blur after he decided to leave his family's decaying farm; he met people his dear mother told him to avoid, and he dived into a world she also pleaded with him not to go to. He was seventeen when he was first introduced to drugs (chems, as one of his old friends, Darko, had said), and eighteen when he killed for the first time. And like his mother once said, those who start never finish. Nigel became part of a raider's gang, making his living from the naive in the Commonwealth. He also took charge of the chem-dealing business in the group, making caps and earning enough of a reputation for himself. He left the title of abandoned farmer boy behind, along with all his compassion for his family and the world. He finally dug out his worth from the wasteland he was left in, and Nigel, for the first time, felt glad he was alive.
But light always fades at night. And so did his whole life.
A few bad businesses that turned into a disaster, burning jealousy, and selfishness made everything he spent years constructing worth nothing more than the dust the world was covered in. His Gabi, his lovely girl who saved him once from death, left him like all he once had, and it wasn't long before all that was left for Nigel was to wander. Wander from town to town, from ruin to ruin, searching for nothing more than a few pieces of junk for him to gain some caps from. The gun in his hand also helped him survive; the Commonwealth always had a bounty on someone's head, and Nigel didn't mind taking the business in and receiving enough payment to sleep under a roof. And he knew, after all, that his life always belonged in the wasteland he was born in.
And the sun, ever giving him the light he needed, and showing the enemies hidden in shadows, could be as harsh as the days he spent wandering. There was no cloth or rag in the world that spared him from the scorching beams of sunlight as he walked over dunes of dirt and dry, brittle grounds, searching for any shelter he could find. He hated the sun when, instead of protection, it gave him more trouble. His skin was already littered with radiation bruises and sore wounds from random fights, for crying out loud, and now he would be sporting sunburns, much to his discomfort. And just the thirst it eventually nagged him with and the buckets of sweat his dirty body produced—it was torture. Nigel was already running out of clean water and preserved food. If he didn't find shelter, his overheated self would soon collapse. And after all he had been through, he wouldn't be an easy snack for the Commonwealth's horrors, even if they tried. He'd rather die in a fight than be a pile of free food for whatever found him first.
But whatever shelter he'd been desperately searching for, Nigel wasn't expecting it to be a small vault entrance behind dead bushes and dust.
The sturdy gear-shaped door was battered as any pre-war metal, corroded by years of neglect, but still as robust as any vault material. His hands trailed to the loosened sides of the door, examining the faded yellow paint and pushing his fingers through the gate’s cracks, testing if the object was still in good shape. It hardly budged.
Vaults were dangerous. Personally, Nigel had never explored one, but anyone with a functioning brain in the Commonwealth knew vaults meant danger. No one knew what could be inside, be it the horrors he'd seen before or not. Few were still home to humans—those who lingered under the ground (if they still existed) were called vault dwellers, and even if Nigel had never met one of them, he was sure a life protected by metal walls could make them an easy target in the real world. For Nigel, they were nothing more than cowards. But the odds of finding a populated vault were almost nonexistent. The world died a long time ago. There could be only two things inside, then.
Valuable junk to scavenge, or death.
He also had two choices. Stay outside and wait for anyone to pass by, rob their food and water, and hope he finds another shelter before a bigger enemy has the same exact idea—or he could try to enter the vault, trust the gun in his hand, and see if he can find anything edible or worth collecting. If, by chance, the vault was empty, he could even spend the night or wait for the sun to cool down. Both Nigel's plans involved a great risk of danger, but one thing he learned in the wastes was to not fear death. Not when he risked his life with each step he took. The bullets in his gun already represented his choice.
The vault seemed to be his only way of escaping from the harsh beams of sunlight, and just the idea of waiting outside for a miracle sounded absurd. He couldn't rely on luck. He'd rather trust the aim of his gun than believe in such a thing.
With his mind made up, Nigel quickly examined the metal entrance with a few light kicks, finally resuming to pull the loosened space with the strength he had left. The vault door creaked—a horrible sound even for Nigel's ears—but didn't move an inch. An annoyed grunt escaped his dry lips. How could scavengers, or anyone in particular, be able to open a vault? He circled the door once more, kicking the metal a few more times. The hollow bangs of boots kicking solid metal were enough for Nigel to stop his fruitless attempts to open the door. Knowing too well that loud noises could draw enemies, he was too weak to fight at the moment. He spat on the ground in disdain, his fists aching to pound the door to pieces.
Nigel wasn't an expert in anything involving technology, knowing much more about how to perform clean headshots and fixing guns than things that belonged in the old world. But he knew technology only lasted long enough with the aid of power, as far as he could tell. Some used those pre-war batteries, or fusion cores, to sustain generators. Vaults... Nigel couldn't even comprehend how vaults worked. He glanced at the dead vines over the vault sides, remembering how control panels were constantly used in pre-war ruins. It wasn't difficult to find what he was looking for, looking as rusty and old as the rest of the vault. Wiping some of the dust off, Nigel inspected the various buttons—what used to be paint was already peeled off, and the instructions left were meaningless to him. He tried to figure out a few phrases, knowing too well that his lack of education would surely stop him from catching any words. The panel stayed unresponsive even when Nigel gave up his gentleness and started smashing the buttons randomly, stubborn as the door it secured.
He was about to give up entering the vault when a soft buzz was heard from the panel's speakers. It remained static for several seconds until a deafening sound erupted from the vault's door, making pebbles on the dry ground jump and shake from the sheer loudness of the slowly turning gear-shaped entrance, accompanied by various puffs of engine smoke emerging from exhausts.
When the door finally twisted enough for him to pass through, Nigel hesitated. Unexplored ruins were dangerous, yes, and they also meant he had to be extra aware of his surroundings. Vaults could either be a fool's poor choice in which to seek shelter or the best scavenging site he'd ever find. And now that the vault was open, Nigel would do what he came in for. And he wouldn't let his fears cloud his way to shelter.
The vault smelled strongly of dust, instantly making Nigel's nose scrunch. An eerie silence prevailed after he opened the door, making each step Nigel took echo through the metal corridors. It was a surprisingly narrow place, even though the scavenger hadn't seen any other vaults to compare with. A few lights still illuminated his path, some clearly from panels he was sure someone hadn't touched for decades, centuries. His grip on his gun tightened, waiting for a single movement or noise to disturb the silence and make him press the trigger. Light from the outside still shone enough for Nigel to see without aid, but darkened corners were a common danger the scavenger wasn't stupid enough not to worry about. His torchlight turned on after a few stubborn clicks, and Nigel quickly scanned the corners for the sight of turrets or automatic searchlights. The place had none. No defences, no alarms, no fragmentation mines. It was like Nigel was the first to enter the vault in years. Nothing seemed more like a trap for him than an easy location to enter.
He kept his ears sharp and his eyes sharper as he approached the first door he could find. Most of the metal in the vault wasn't as deteriorated as the ones in the Commonwealth. He pressed a hand on the door, pushing it slowly, until he could point his torchlight into the room. It looked the same as everything else in the vault—riddled with dust and rotten from years of abandonment. Nigel resumed walking, careful in his steps, eyeing the corners in case he'd missed a turret. The place itself made his skin crawl, as if its existence were forbidden for an outsider to see, showing the face of a world untouched by nuclear waste and yet rotting from neglect, forgotten to humanity. He wasn't a man to be taken by his emotions, but something about a place untouched by the wasteland he spent his life in screamed wrong. This was a place out of time, out of his league, and even though he could already see pieces of junk to scavenge, it felt wrong to disturb the ruin.
It felt wrong, but what rules did the Wasteland have anyway? He shook his cowardly thoughts away, focusing on declaring the area free from hostile activity. A few more careful steps made his breathing inaudible again. He passed by one of the desks (full of papers and files worn out by time) until an odd noise startled Nigel, making the man twist his gun to the source of the sound. He was met with a wall of glass, clearly thick enough to repel a gunshot, and the weirdest room he'd ever seen in all his years. Everything was ridiculously clean—the furniture looked thoroughly polished, and all the objects in the room were meticulously organised. There was no dust in sight, nor any unpleasant grease or nuclear waste. On the contrary, the room looked like someone was actually living there. Or found a way to preserve the place. Besides the various techs and the ridiculous number of books and science devices cooped up in the small area, the whole ceiling was decorated by hanging lights and strings, painted dark blue to enhance the paraphernalia.
It looked like the starlit sky Nigel spent years watching.
Every detail, every sparkling light, and every colourful rotating ball was enough for Nigel to put down his gun, amazed to see such an outlandish thing in a vault forgotten by time. He had no idea what those little balls were (one even had a ring around it), but he could recognise the sun; shining proudly in the centre of the ceiling, reminding the scavenger of the reason he broke into the place. Its light glowed to the other little balls and lights—no, stars—giving the impression that this collection of junk was in fact the sky he'd watched so many times to sleep, or when he was on patrol, back in the days when he had less to worry about. It was beautiful.
"It's really beautiful, isn't it?" A soft voice interrupted the silence, instantly making Nigel let out a surprised yell, and point his gun at the glass. Behind it, nothing more than a small robot floated about, one of its eyes on Nigel and the other two on the ceiling. The lenses on the scavenger changed size by the second, giving him the impression that the machine refused to focus on the man. It also ignored his frantic scream, still admiring the decoration. Nigel gasped for air, feeling lightheaded for the first time in years, but he didn't cease pointing his gun at the robot.
"Who... What the f*ck are you?" He rasped out, aiming to shoot one of the thing's eyes. The robot beeped, sounding apologetic, and turned its two other eyes to Nigel, letting the three lenses open and close in a curious manner. The man held his gun closer, trying to intimidate the pathetic creature with a snarl.
"I am a Type 1 utility Mister Handy prototype with modified circuits, engine, and programming, granting additional personality and scientific aid," the robot replied automatically. Nigel raised both his eyebrows. He knew a few robots in his life; one of them being the bartender from his favourite bar back in Goodneighbour (where he met trouble and his sweet Gabi) and the one who tended the noodle shop back in Diamond City. Besides that, he had paid no mind to them. Most were dumb as rocks, stuck in their pre-war programming for eternity. Others had developed a way to cope with life in the Commonwealth, tending bars and shops, having different programming settings, and showing Nigel how self-aware they were. Those who had personalities were exceptions, most built by a loving creator who gave them alternative ways of thinking. Not every robot had the chance to think for itself like the bartender. In fact, finding a tweaked robot was a rarity.
And Nigel was sure he had just found one.
"What...?" the man blurted out. Whatever this robot just told him, it was a mouthful.
"Let me repeat then: I am a Type 1 utility-"
"No, no, no... I get that," Nigel interrupted the robot with a sigh. "You... this place, this... who are you?"
The robot blinked at him.
"My creator used to call me Adam... I'm Adam," Adam said, tilting its eyes. Nigel stood quiet, too taken back to sneer something at the robot. He spent a few more seconds staring at the odd thing, unsure what to do or say, until he was softly called "Sir?" by the robot—Adam.
"Yeah?" he dumbly replied. Adam rotated two of its eyes in confusion.
"I... You're supposed to introduce yourself after—after that. It's in my data on human socialisation—I mean, normal socialisation, because you're the only human in the conversation... Am I doing it wrong?"
It was Nigel's turn to blink in confusion.
"Doing what?"
"Socialising. Am I doing it wrong?" The robot questioned again.
"You're..." Nigel wheezed a humourless laugh at the thing's attitude. Of all he imagined in this vault, a Mister Handy trying to give him small talk was the last thing he could've expected. Adam was obviously startled by the scavenger's reaction, three of its eyes turning down in hesitance.
"Did I say something funny?" Adam asked.
"No, no... f*ck... It's just me, okay? You're..." He waved his hands at the robot. "I'm just taking this situation in."
"Oh." The robot seemed to process what Nigel said eventually and gave the man a short nod.
With silence settled in the room again, Nigel could properly examine Adam; the robot was nearly free from rust, and painted white instead of grey. Something about the big eyes was oddly charming about the machine. Unlike most Mister Handy robots, Adam's voice was deep and pleasant to the ears, unlike the posh English accent of the bartender. In fact, Adam's build was much more appreciated by Nigel.
He'd call Adam interesting if calling a robot that wasn't creepy at all.
Nigel also examined the area Adam was in; as well treated as it looked, it should’ve cleaned the rest of the vault by now, going by the robot's fixation on organisation. Instead, only Adam's room looked intact. It was like that part of the building didn't fit into the vault walls.
"Why are you still here?" was all Nigel could ask, not taking his eyes from the odd room. The robot looked taken aback by the question.
"I... I can't leave," Adam responded hesitantly. Nigel creased his brow in thought. Surely whoever gave those orders to the robot meant Adam not to leave the vault and not the room.
"Why can't you?" Nigel pressed on, choosing to lay his gun down.
"I was programmed not to leave this vault and this room by the orders of my creator until he came back. It has been fifteen years, four months, and twelve days since... Since Doctor Raki left the vault." Adam's voice slowly fell. Nigel wasn't sure if he pitied the robot or not. Fifteen years of waiting were enough for the scavenger to believe that the said doctor left Adam to rot like the rest of the vault, sure that the robot's naivety would keep it cooped up in a narrow room for as long as he wanted. Adam's downcast eyes made something in Nigel's gut twist—something like anger—to see the robot be cast away like trash and ordered to spend the last of its days underground. Even robots deserved freedom, in Nigel's mind. Most of the Commonwealth would gladly disagree with him and call what wasn't human a burden to the world. But to Nigel, having spent his life watching outcasts like him be treated like sh*t because someone decided their lives didn't matter, it was enough to let him feel sorry for Adam. It didn't deserve this type of bullsh*t.
"But what if he didn't come back? Would you still wait, knowing he'd never come?"
"I was programmed to wait," Adam meekly replied. "The doctor said he would come back after a month, but I'm sure he's just late. He wouldn't lie to me."
"He went outside. You know what's outside? Danger." Either this doctor had died long ago or he'd abandoned Adam. He empathised with the word danger to let the robot understand the suggestion. Nigel knew from experience that it was the right thing to put the robot out of its miserable hope, despite how bad it hurt, rather than leave the thing believing this doctor would come back to an abandoned vault after fifteen years.
"I've never been outside, but I'm sure you meant to say the Commonwealth of Massachusetts." Adam's reply sounded sweet even though few people (or, in this case, robots) escaped Nigel's machete after bullsh*tting him.
"You know what I f*cking meant. There's danger in the Commonwealth, in case you didn't know, but now that I know you spent your life down here, I'd guess you don't even imagine what's out there," Nigel spat, his patience running thin. "What's out there kills, and take this piece of advice—if your doctor hasn't appeared for over fifteen years, something happened. I don't want to know, but there's more in this world than to stay waiting for something that isn't f*cking coming."
Adam stood still for what seemed to be ages for Nigel, and when the scavenger was sure he had broken the robot with his speech, Adam quietly said something.
"I... I didn't want to believe he was dead. He told me after he left that if he didn't return within a month, I could consider him deceased. He also told me how dangerous it was out there and t-that I couldn't... It was for my safety to stay within the vault. Within this room, I-I can't leave."
So, Adam was trapped in this forgotten ruin for its own safety. Nigel wanted to understand why Doctor Raki didn't install any turrets or give this decaying vault Adam called home a better security system. With a few random presses of buttons, he was in. If Nigel hadn't been feeling compassionate, he wouldn't have hesitated to kill (destroy, in this case) the robot this doctor wanted to protect. Adam's safety within this vault was definitely faulty.
"If he wanted to protect you, then how the f*ck did I get in so easily?" Nigel waited for a reaction to come from Adam that resembled fear, not f*cking happiness.
"I let you in, of course! I saw on the outdoor cameras that if you didn't get any shelter soon, you would collapse from exhaustion. So I let you in." Adam beeped in excitement.
Adam let him in. Adam...
"You... You let me in because you saw me—I can't f*cking believe this." Nigel ran a hand through his greasy hair. Adam, as much as the scavenger wanted to dismiss it, saved his life. Just by trusting a complete stranger banging on the vault's door to enter, not knowing Nigel had every intention to take every valuable left in the place. Kindness was unheard of in the Commonwealth. And for Nigel, to show he was still worth it, it made something inside his chest churn.
The robot was incredibly naive. He wondered how Adam lasted fifteen years secured in the vault; kindness killed quicker than anything in the wasteland. If, by chance, Adam took pity on every starved wanderer outside the metal walls, the robot wouldn't be alive to tell the tale. There was no need for kindness when the ones you treated equally could easily put a bullet between your eyes. Nigel felt sorry for the thing—it wouldn't survive a day before the Commonwealth showed Adam how the Doctor was right all along. There's no such thing as kindness out there.
"I let you in because I knew you'd die out there," Adam concluded.
"And yet you refused to accept your doctor's death." The scavenger watched the robot's three lenses widen.
"I knew he must be dead. But his command still lingers in my data. I need to stay within the vault for my safety," Adam said with a firm tone, while trying to keep at least one eye focused on the wastelander. Nigel scoffed at the robot's last words.
"And here you are, with a wastelander in your little vault, talking to you. I don't know if you're lucky to not attract some f*ckhead here or if you don't understand how safety works in the Commonwealth. Not everyone is worthy of kindness."
"But I... I couldn't let you die. And the glass separating us is bullet proof. No one can do any harm to me from where you're standing." One of Adam's pincer hands pointed towards Nigel, supporting the robot's simple explanation.
"I suppose. Look," Nigel waved a hand at Adam. "You get my point. Letting strangers in can be dangerous. This glass here may protect you from bullets, but some people out there will find a way in. I've seen it happen before."
"I... I think I understand," Adam quietly said. "But here is still safer than wandering out there. I've never been outside this vault. I must stay safe; that was Doctor Raki's last command."
"What grants you safety is a gun and your wits," Nigel retorted after hearing Adam's hushed answer. "We all die one day. Safety is not a long-term thing. This is how this world works."
Deep inside, Nigel wanted to keep the illusion of safety in the robot. Someone untouched by the Commonwealth shouldn't go through the dangers outside of these metal doors. But Adam's kind heart wouldn't save its life from the grips of danger. Instead, the robot would probably die off, with its metal being ripped away for a few pieces of caps. Forgotten in the world, like the vault, is its so-called home.
The idea of letting the robot wander with him was ridiculous from the moment it sparked within Nigel's head. He was a lone wanderer, not a robot babysitter. The trouble he'd have with Adam already made his head ache and his mouth twist into a snarl—to give up his travelling freedom for a delusional robot sounded completely insane. Adam would only slow him down and make him a more apparent target for enemies.
And he wouldn't die for a robot. Nigel wouldn't die for anyone but himself.
"Where else would I go?" Adam's voice quivered slightly. "I can't... I can't go against my programming. I don't see the problem of staying in the safety that Doctor Raki commanded me to remain in."
"Look, this safety you say won't f*cking last forever. Who knows what could happen tomorrow when I'm out of here? Nothing stays safe forever. Not in the Wastes." Nigel took a deep breath, not fond of watching the robot tremble in anxiety. Was it hard to survive? Yes. But it was harder to remain safe in a decaying vault, in Nigel's mind.
"B-But where... you're lying. Doctor Raki said I'd stay safe and everything would be okay because he said he'd come back and not leave me alone. He'd come back with my body, and I would finally be complete like he wanted, after all this time, because he promised he'd show me how to use a pair of hands and teach me how to-"
"Hold on, did you just say body?" Nigel blurted out, not expecting the robot to mention the existence of an actual body in the middle of its rambling. Adam's three eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"I... I shouldn't have mentioned that."
"This doctor made you a body? Like, a metal body?" the wastelander asked Adam, finding out that a part of his voice died when the robot went on about the subject.
"No, not metal. My body is made from flesh—real flesh, like yours. Every organ, tissue, and cell in it is organic and fully developed in a laboratory," Adam added, sounding happy to explain its body to Nigel.
"What? Like... like a synth?"
"Exactly! My body is a Gen 3 synth model. Even my own engine was made for the body. The brain will only be fully active with my component; Doctor Raki also made sure his DNA was transferred to it. He wanted me to be his son," the robot admitted shyly, looking unsure of how Nigel would react.
Not all creators build artificial children for themselves. Nigel could comprehend Adam's hesitance on the topic. Most people above ground abhorred synths. The first models were created as killing machines, pillaging, and capturing innocent wastelanders for the Institute; no one knew who they were or what they wanted, but rumour says they were a group of scientists descended from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. The creation of Gen 3 synths became a cause of mass panic in the Commonwealth; for it was impossible to distinguish one from a human, and only their brains could prove their human falsehood. Gen 3 synths were self-aware, and the few differences between a real human and them were what made people so afraid of them.
Nigel had seen many say they were an abomination to the world, or a disrespect to God for letting humankind create life out of nothing. He couldn't blame the fear these people had. In a destroyed world, all they wanted was to live without the consequences of technology.
But to kill synths just because they wanted to live—that was the problem for Nigel. Everyone deserves a chance to survive, whether they are artificially made or not.
"So he went to fetch this body of yours and never came back," Nigel concluded. Adam gave the scavenger a confirmatory beep.
"That was his lifetime's wish. He wanted me to be able to fully control my synth engine and to be his own flesh and blood. I-I wish I could've gone with him, because everything just... doesn't make sense anymore without him." Two of Adam's eyes became downcast, their lenses amplifying and closing, giving Nigel the impression the robot wanted to cry. Something inside the wastelander made him want to approach Adam and comfort it—no, him. Besides surviving, Nigel had nothing left. His Gabi had left him for someone else, and his reputation wasn't worth a single cap. He'd spend the rest of his days as a lone wanderer, roaming for a place to stay the night and then leaving by sunrise, forgotten to the world like the dust under his feet. His existence didn't matter to anyone anymore, not even himself.
And yet he kept wandering; not giving up to the scorching sun or the painful radiation bruises covering his body. Neither hunger nor thirst stopped Nigel from walking miles of nothingness. If one day he'd collapse from exhaustion, that would be the day Nigel, son of a meaningless farmer and child of the Commonwealth, would die without any protest.
But here, this robot, Adam, with his kind heart and soothing voice, wanted nothing more than to grant his creator's last wish, even if it meant he'd spend the rest of his days alone to rust. It set a spark inside Nigel aflame—a spark of hope that he could forgive himself and his errors by helping someone so different from him. Adam was the bit of kindness he never thought he'd find again.
As much as his other selfish, preservative half wanted to ignore this desire to grant Adam one of his wishes, Nigel was sure he'd rather seek something than spend more of his days wandering the Commonwealth without a route to follow.
He took a deep breath. If he was to offer help for the robot, he'd do it properly.
"I can... help you fetch your body, at least. Consider it a repayment for opening the vault door for me."
Adam's three lenses widened at hearing the man's offer, looking as baffled as a Mister Handy robot could show.
"You would?" Adam beeped.
"Yeah, I would. Just... You know where it is, at least? I know my way out there, so it shouldn't be much of a f*cking problem." The wastelander sighed.
"Yes! Doctor Raki left enough data here in the vault for me to know the location." The robot turned his body to one of the polished folders, quickly taking what he wanted from the steel drawers and showing it in Nigel's direction. "Here it is."
Nigel wished for the second time of the day that he’d received enough education to be able to f*cking read.
"Can you describe or draw it for me? I can't understand sh*t," the scavenger groaned. Adam seemed to be surprised by Nigel's reaction but didn't comment on the man's illiterate status. If he did, Nigel would cut the deal off and f*cking leave.
"...Okay," the robot said, not wasting time in fetching a new piece of paper, and scribbling what Nigel asked on it. He waited a few moments until Adam returned to his view, holding the paper in his pincers.
"Doctor Raki's files said my synth body was located to the northwest, near an area called 'Concord'. We are looking for an underground laboratory. It shouldn't be too far from Bedford Station."
"Damn right it isn't. We are near Cambridge, so it wouldn't take long to reach Concord. Better take the irradiated roads than to go through town, now there's real danger there." Nigel inspected the awfully inaccurate map closer. "If you go by this, this lab is a bit away from town. Good enough—Concord's a f*cking mess."
Adam hummed in thought. Nigel could see the robot had no idea what the Commonwealth's locations were. And he had not even seen how badly they were ruined yet.
"But... But you think... Do you think this is going to work out? I have no data on transferring my circuitry to another... brain. And I can't go with you. Doctor Raki said-"
"Listen, Adam, I'm not going to drag a f*cking body through the Commonwealth by myself. I promise I'll deliver you to this vault again after you find it. And then you can resume staying here, and we're done," Nigel said with a firm tone. Adam seemed to find himself questioning the choice for almost a minute, and Nigel, never a patient man, would gladly cancel this fool's plan and leave the robot alone if Adam took another minute of his time to think.
"Okay."
Nigel blinked at the robot.
"f*ck-Seriously? No doubt you're going?"
"Yes," Adam simply responded. "I would resume Doctor Raki's request after obtaining my body, so there shouldn't be a problem. It's more important for me to be able to do this than to stay here. I want him to be proud."
Something inside Nigel's chest swelled. Admiration or pity, probably.
"There's no backing out now. The thing about the wasteland is to use everything to your advantage. This is how you survive a day and see the sunrise once more."
"I'll follow your orders then, sir."
This robot had already agreed to go on a quest with him, and he didn't even know Nigel's name. How naive could Adam be?
"Nigel. Call me Nigel," he offered the robot, trying to ignore the way his eyes rotated in curiosity.
"Nigel," Adam repeated, dragging the 'gel' of his name.
"Yeah. Just call me that, and we're fine."
Both stayed silent for a brief second, until Adam chirped in, sounding oddly hesitant.
"Are we going now?"
"What? f*ck no. I got here to f*cking rest. We'll leave at dawn," Nigel bluntly replied.
"Oh." Adam seemed unsure of what to do, looking with two of his eyes at his surroundings. Nigel didn't expect the robot to open his room's door, instantly letting the smell of dust be substituted with lavender, like a breeze of fresh air. He stared at the robot, waiting for him to say something.
"T-There's a bed within my room, and some food and water. I don't need it." Adam added lightly. Nigel blinked at the robot, speechless for the second time in the day.
Adam was truly an odd thing.
