I stood up, and slid one of the black data squares that Leah had given me into what I assumed was the corresponding slot. The screen flashed, and then a bar appeared that began to slowly fill up as I stood there. I flicked the bobblehead again, and stood up. While I waited on that I decided now was the time to search the rest of the bunker, starting with searching for the lab mentioned in Dave’s final log. I started rifling through his desk, finding a stack of documents I threw to the side. One drawer was locked, but a quick hard pull broke it open revealing a brown bottle. I opened it with my teeth and smelled ancient alcohol inside. I drank half the bottle, clearing the acrid taste of the mist outside from my throat and giving myself a very slight buzz. The liquor wasn’t nearly strong enough for a deadman, but it had a unique taste that I appreciated.

I returned my attention to the computer. It had finished the download, so I plucked out the square and popped in another one. I took the bottle and made my way down to the rest of the offices to see what I could loot while I waited for it. The other desks revealed another handful of liquor bottles, a small stack of paperback books, and a tin of candy that had somehow avoided any form of deterioration. I slid a few of them into my mouth, they were tart, but sweet. I crunched through them with my teeth, the hardness reminding me faintly of bone, and washed them down with another swallow from the brown bottle.

I searched around a bit more, looking for any desk marked Mavis, and eventually, I found it. It was in a corner, seemingly isolated from the other ones, and relatively bare, with no decoration aside from a dusty photograph taped to the corner of a computer monitor. I wiped it clean and was surprised to see, not a picture of a family or friends as decorated many of the other desks, but instead, it was a hairless rat with massive teeth and red eyes. I stared at it for a few moments, confused, then sat at the desk and booted the computer. It had the same labels as the others. 'Correspondence' had a few back-and-forth messages that were full of technical information, but I was completely unable to parse them. The personal log had only one Entry.

Entry 1:

This is for you Mr. Teeth, let's hope your genetic legacy has a better chance now.

Confused I pulled up the 'Work Log'

Entry 1:

I have been transferred off of the rEvolutionary Virus project to assist with the R.A.S. program. This transfer was done over my protest. Luckily, I have been allowed to spend personal time to see in what ways the nanites involved in the R.A.S. and the rEvolutionary Virus can work in harmony. I will work an additional 8 hours a day.

There was more technical information, incredibly dense and impossible for me to understand, then there was a brief break for actual words that I understood.

Entry 53:

I have been assigned the task of integrating an A.I. into the R.A.S. program. I have no experience with AI, as I'm primarily a microbiologist. That being said, it is...VERY user-friendly. It was apparently designed to learn on its own and has already started the work of placing itself into the R.A.S. simply after I suggested it. More importantly than all that though, I asked it for assistance with my own project to integrate the R.A.S. with the rEvolutionary Virus. Progress is slow, but I'm hoping this will help to speed things up.

Entry 57:

I've done it, at least partially. With the A.I. and it's ability to learn, it looks like those who received the heavier mutation due to the virus will have, possibly, maybe have it blend with the system. It should at the very least be able to let those with the mutations know what's happening to them, give names to how they're changing, what makes them them. It'll be more active in those with higher mutations and changes to their DNA, but it likely won't be truly active for several generations while the A.I. learns and adapts to it. I hope it helps. It's hard being different. They deserve to have something good for themselves.

There were several more informational entries, then they cut off abruptly. I felt...sad for Cynthia. I hadn't for Dave, and Dr. Vincent made an active choice, and seemed strong and capable in a way that Cynthia didn't seem to be. I looked down at the bottle I was drinking. Maybe it was stronger than I'd thought.

I made my way back up to once again swap the disks, then made my way to the security office. The room was divided in half, with a barred desk between the two halves, and a door at the far end. The door resisted my attempts to open it, so I instead went to the desk, placed my candy and booze down, and bent the bars until I could fit through. An alarm began to ring, but I ignored it. I slipped through and found myself on the other side. I flipped switches and pressed buttons until the alarm stopped.

I made my way into a room behind that one, and found a row of lockers. I started to crack them open one by one, finding sets of body armor, guns, and ammunition. If I’d been back on the other side of the Cut, it would’ve been a jackpot, but as I’d have to carry anything I looted back with me, I stuck with ammunition, finding myself restocked and then some. I also found another several bottles of booze, some magazines with covers that reminded me distinctly of the female leaders of the Panthers and Hawks, which I ignored, and in one particularly immaculate and well-stocked locker, a gas mask, anti radiation drugs, and dozens of survival guides, from the US military’s to the boy scouts. I packed the gas mask, feeling immense relief that I had a safe way out. I’d figured I’d just have to tough it out with the benefit that finding my way out would be a lot easier than finding the bunker.

I made my way back out, tossing the now empty bottle to the side and opening another as I chewed through more of the candy I’d found. I made my way to a far room marked, ‘Lab’, and walked inside. There were more rows of computers, and several rooms separated from the main room by glass, as if the people within them were meant to be observed. I walked to the far end where there was one such terminal. I booted it up, and on it was a prompt.

Advanced R.A.S. patching system

I had to make a decision. I had enough information on the disks that I could likely convince the Remnants that it just didn't work after all, and even if I couldn't the idea of implementing this system with them having an edge was the last thing I wanted. I'd rather risk their ire than give them that kind of control. It would make more sense to destroy it. I tapped the screen to see if there was any other information on the computer, or maybe even a way to delete it. Everything about it was last minute after all, it was possible I had enough computer know-how to figure it out.

Dispersal Activating

I blinked, and looked into the glass room across from me, where I fine mist was dispersing from nozzles on the ceiling. I sighed, relaxing, then noticed the large crack in the rooms corner. I felt nothing, and wondered for a few moments if I was okay after all, then suddenly there was a stabbing pain in my head, and I stumbled, but it faded quickly, followed by a notification.

Advanced R.A.S. patching in progress [1/100]

I watched the notification for several minutes, but the number didn’t move. It seemed like it would take some time to fully activate. That was good. I needed time. I took another swig from the bottle and picked at my teeth. Since it would only spread based on who I interacted with, I could still have some control over the advanced system's dispersal. I could let the people at Pott’s have access to it before the remnants while still honoring my deal with them. Maybe I could work it out in a way that maximized the benefit to Pott's while still keeping things neutral. Either way, there were still things I needed to take care of in the bunker.

I moved out of the room, and made my way back up to Dave’s desk where I slotted in yet another storage square. I drained another bottle of liquor, clear this time, with a taste that reminded me of getting shot. That one actually managed to give me a slight buzz. I went through a few more individual offices, finding only another paperback book for my efforts, and started making my way to the other side of the facility. I found myself hesitating when I reached the sign for the section called the Citizen Registry. I turned and instead walked toward the room at the far end that was unmarked instead.

The door was large, and at one end was another one of the security card slots I’d seen throughout the bunker. I went back, and started searching the offices, slotting in different cards to see what would work. None of them did, until I tried one from the security office itself, and the door clicked, allowing me to walk inside. It was a short hall, with a security desk, and a doorway at the far end marked, “Project Phoenix”. I walked inside and saw a number of labs, these made up more of beakers and test tubes rather than computers, and beyond the labs were holding cells. Beyond those were rooms with tile floors and drains in the center of them, sitting below beds and chairs with thick leather restraints. Eventually, I found a computer and booted it up. Unlike the others, it had only a project log, no personal log or correspondence.

Entry 1:

Day one of the Phoenix project and things are moving smoothly. The idea and purpose, of the project, is to destroy so we can build back stronger, better, more American. The prisoners and volunteers have arrived and are being kept isolated from one another. Each of the potential methods being experimented with will be implemented either alone or in a combination, though I personally believe the chemical solution will likely have the greatest effect, though my field agent coworkers seem to believe beating and blackmail are enough. Perhaps we’ll try both, it’s possible we’re both right. We need to work quickly. Based on the intel that the higher-ups received, Reds have the ability to control minds, possibly from my former colleague Dr. Strauss. Shame we each got scooped up by the opposite side. I enjoyed working with him.

The next several entries were about different types of torture, drugs, and something called psychic driving, and how different people had reacted to each of them. It was thoroughly unpleasant, but I kept reading, not wanting to move on to the Citizen Registry quite yet, I was too concerned with what I’d find there. The final entry gave me at least one thing I was looking for.

Entry 62:

The Bombs have started to fall, and one hit close enough to disturb our chemical storage facility. I’m not concerned about the LSD, or Sodium Pentathol, but the newest gas is going to make leaving incredibly dangerous. The hallucinations it causes are vivid, and it was developed to linger as long as possible, rendering certain areas uninhabitable and its people blank and ready for re-education. Shame to waste so much of it, I had high hopes that it may mean the end of our project… perhaps a month's dose of it followed by psychic driving would’ve been the key. No matter now. I plan on killing myself shortly after this entry is complete. I simply loathe to leave a job unfinished. That’s why I was so grateful to continue it here after my time in the camps came to such an unfortunate and abrupt end. Oh well, danke America for the second chance, maybe hell will provide me with a third.

I drank another half a bottle of booze and pushed away from the desk. That explained my hallucinations. Can’t say I felt sorry that this project leader had killed himself, seemed like the whole thing needed to be burned to the ground. I left that section of the building and finally made my way to the room labeled Citizen Registry., and made my way inside. It was only a single large room, with a massive computer and row after row of humming equipment to either side of it. I made my way to the keyboard in front of the screen and pressed a random key. The screen flared to life.

Citizen Registry 1: Tracking all Americans and Their Descendants Automatically

1: Search

2: System

3: Permissions

I hit permission first and was prompted to enter three passwords and a security key. I attempted a few different combinations, but had no luck. Breaking into it was beyond me. I hit 1, and then enter, and found myself hesitating again as a search window appeared. There were a number of boxes, with different criteria. I selected the one for First Name and input ‘Donovan’.

307 Results

I had nothing to enter for my last name. I was given the option at 18 when I’d been granted full R.A.S. access to enter one, but had left it blank. Never expected it to be an issue. I selected the profession field and input Marshall.

Results Cannot Be Displayed: Insufficient Permissions

That made sense given the undercover class abilities. I switched it to Postman.

2 Results

I smirked, amused that I wasn’t the only one, and a little relieved the information I was looking for hadn’t come up on its own. The first result was for Donovan Draper, level 4, with no living parents, and one deceased sibling. I selected the second one.

Citizen: Donovan

Job: Postman Lvl 6

Born: Baton Rouge Louisiana

Father: Lucas Deets (Deceased)

Mother: Savannah Walker (Deceased)

Siblings: Nico Walker

I leaned back in my chair and let out a long breath. I knew my father was dead, I’d just re-experienced the memory of killing him out in the mists outside of the bunker. My mother being dead, left me with a number of feelings I wasn’t able to address all at once. I hadn’t thought about her. Never let myself take long enough to. She’d left me with him. Worst of all, she’d taken my sister with her. Even though she was a deadman too. Even though we had the same red eyes and sharp teeth, I wasn’t worth taking, and she was.

I had pushed it out of my mind so long that I’d forgotten. I had a sister. I remembered that now, but. I hadn’t known her name. My dad hadn’t let our mom name either of us, so I wouldn’t have recognized her that way, but Mom must’ve named her after she’d left.

I thought back, trying to remember anything Nico mentioned about coming to Pott’s. All I could think of was her saying having been there about seven years when I met her. She’d never spoken of a sibling, it was possible that she was as unaware of our connection as I had been. There were a lot of clues, our similar looks, smells, profession, and tastes. Thinking about it, I wasn’t sure she didn’t know either. She’d been the one to approach me when I’d first arrived in Pott’s, befriended me, and did what she could to help me stay out of trouble, while Deux did the opposite. I looked back at the screen, and handled all the information the same way I always did. I pushed it down, stood up, and made my way back through the office, looking for any good salvage. In spite of myself though, I couldn’t completely push it down, but surprisingly the strongest emotions I felt were relief, and fear. Relief that ‘Deceased’ hadn’t been in parentheses by her name, and fear that it could be at any time.