Like someone flipped a switch Rosie’s pain vanished, as if it didn’t really happen at all. For a moment Rosie thought Charlie had shot her. Yet as she drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes Rosie felt fine. Not just free from the excruciating agony that felt like hours, but free from the pain in her freshly torn wounds.

“Pulse is steady, pupils responsive. Rosie, what's my name?” Rosie hesitated, not because she didn’t know, because Charlie’s name was displayed inside her eyes.

“Charlie. That’s Matt, and Paul. I’m ok.” That answer seemed to bring more shock than relief. Charlie set to treating Rosie’s injuries again, starting with the arm. Leaving the foot and her disapproval for Matt. “I told you to watch her. If she needs another transfusion you’re going to bleed into a bag this time.”

“I’m sorry Charlie, she’s worried about her man. I didn’t think that thing could hurt her.”

“It’s not his fault, it's mine.” Rosie tried to explain, but Charlie wouldn’t even look at her. Rosie felt like Charlie wanted to punch her, but that would just give her another injury to fix.

“We don’t know what that thing does, you know that. You can tell it to the boss, he’ll be back in a few hours.”

With the bleeding stemmed Charlie sat back and pulled off the blood stained gloves with a wet snap. “And you, next time you rip up my work I’m going to let Paul stitch you up.” She rolled up her dull green t shirt sleeve to show a jagged scar along her upper arm. “Trust me, you’re going to have one worse than this already, it might as well be straight.”

“I’m sorry Charlie. I know you saved my life, all of you, thank you.” Rosie felt like she could think for the first time in days. At least enough to feel bad for the stress she’d caused, and to know she still needed these people. “Can you hand me the mirror please?” Charlie laughed and put the now cracked and blood smeared mirror in her hand.

“I press here right?” Charlie hit the ok button and the new code came to life inside Rosie’s eyes. No longer confined to the pipboy the system morphed into a fluid series of concentric circles. Tactical, medical, training, comm, and data. Code ran in the corner that she recognised as a diagnostic, activating new features. Failing to connect to something called a satellite.

An odd sensation grew in her hands. Warmth spreading to her finger tips. She raised her free arm to see a faint trace of green under the skin like someone shining a light through it. A small hand diagram showing movements appeared in the corner of view, followed by a message in higher definition pipboy green. *Sub dermal interface online*

Free from the constraints of buttons, an idea that already seemed laughable, Rosie could navigate and operate the new system with a slip of her nimble fingers. Simply running her thumb along her index finger scrolled through the circular options. Each finger corresponding to a different set of subroutines, and the merest touch of the tips to access it. Rosie had never felt more attuned to anything in her life. The intuitive nature of the layout seemed to be written for her.

The medical section of the circle loomed the largest. Inside the data showed an outline of her body. Red sections on the foot and arm, percentages in red showing thirty five and twenty eight respectively. Rosie reeled of a few other stats from the mostly high green bars, bringing relief from Charlie, and questions to be asked later.

Finding the tactical options locked out by the training tab she tried that. Most of that locked out too, and what options she could find looked empty. Something about that bothered her, it wasn’t like things were missing, more that they’d never been entered at all.

Rosie stopped. Hoping more than expecting she checked the comm section finding it empty and feeling a pain that Charlie couldn’t help with. Too busy with what she found, Rosie hadn’t considered what she’d lost. All her hacks, including her prize esc code, and worse. Every message from John for the last fifteen years.

All the conversations about nothing. Every quickly typed complaint about dumb bosses. Every time he’d sent her their little code of J<3R just to say I love you. All gone, just like John. Rosie wept, Charlie didn’t need to ask why. “We’ll find him, that’s what we do.” She smiled and took her hand. “We found you and we weren’t even looking.” They laughed at the bad joke. “Get some rest. Our friend will be back soon. He’ll have a plan, always does.”

Sleep seemed a welcome idea, her injuries meant there’d be enough time for the secrets that came at a high cost. Women had always told her that childbirth was painful, it couldn’t be worse than that. Her last thoughts before drifting off were of John, as always, remembering the last time she’d seen him and pressed a holotape into her hand.

“Rosie…if you’re hearing this then you know I’ve left instead of you. I’m sorry. I know this is going to hurt and I know it’s a betrayal, but even if you don’t speak to me again you’ll be safe. If things work out I’ll be back in three months. I have to try, these people…if you tear away the lie, it will kill them. If we cause that we’ll never be free, and if something happens to me…you matter more than me. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known, you’ll be ok. I love you.” Rosie had never been more grateful to hear his voice. And the only person she’d ever loved had never sounded more heartbroken.

Rosie slept for the rest of the day, waking to find a new face sat opposite her. An older man, closely cropped hair and three day stubble.

“Rosie, it's Brandon, how are you feeling?”

“Fine I guess.” She still didn’t feel any pain, not physically at least.

“You look a little brighter.” He lied and smiled warmly, Rosie felt instantly eased by his presence. Brandon had a stillness to him, the picture of calm, all except the eyes. They were like looking in a mirror to Rosie. Not because of the colour, because she could see the planning going on behind them like gears turning. This was someone she could deal with.

“I’ve brought you some things to make you more comfortable.” He gestured to a bag on the floor, filled with shapes Rosie didn’t recognise. “They’re books…for reading, and some fresh clothes.” Rosie thought she held the confusion from her face, the pitying look she got in return suggested otherwise. “And this, but don’t tell Charlie.” From the dark blue overcoat on the chair Brandon retrieved a small silver bar and handed it to her. She pushed the thin foil aside, finding what looked like a protein bar left to dry, brown and hard.

Not wanting to appear rude Rosie broke a piece off and forced a smile as she bit it in half. Rich sweetness unlike anything she’d ever tasted filled her mouth. Replacing the copper tinge of blood for a blissful few moments. “Chocolate.” Brandon forced his own smile, just not from his eyes. “You’ve never tasted it before, have you?”

“I had an apple once. Half an apple.”

"There’s a woman who makes it in the nearby settlement. I tell you what when you’re up and about we’ll go see her, maybe I’ll even buy you a cake.” Rosie saw Brandon look over her injuries and thought for a moment. “I’d like to show you something, but I’d have to carry you. It might hurt.”

“It’s fine, I think I can walk.” Rosie made less than half a step before Brandon stopped her from collapsing. He scooped her up as gently as he could, easily done for someone in good shape despite his age.

Steel stairs clanged as Brandon climbed them in the near empty shell of the large building. Rusted, half stripped and long dormant presses dotted the floor below. Hardly visible in the fading light coming through cracked and stained windows. Each connected with the remnants of an old conveyor belt “What is this place?” The building beyond the shower room looked bigger than she’d imagined.

“An old factory. It’s secure and off the beaten path, don’t worry.” Rosie’s curiosity outweighed her worry. Brandon carried her up and out onto a flat section of roof where the other sat round a restrained fire. Despite bearing wrapped in blankets and overcoat the unfamiliar sensation of the outside sent a chill through her

“Here, this’ll warm you up.” Brandon poured clear liquid in a tin cup and handed it to her.

“Small sips or I’ll take it off you.” Charlie didn’t even look up from the book and letter she was writing on. Rosie knew a code when she saw one, even in the new format. Clever, she thought.

Partly because she’d been told not to, Rosie threw back the small amount of water in the cup, realising it wasn’t water. A burning sensation coated her throat, followed by coughing and amusement from everyone but Charlie. “Vodka.” Brandon laughed and threw his own drink back as if it were water.

Rosie settled into the warmth of the fire, and whatever vodka was. She stared out from the flat rooftop taking in the sights of the new, old world. Red leaves crowding ruins as far as she could see. The endless blue shifting to black above and brilliant orange ahead. That made the pain of getting here worth it. The smell and sizzle of thick cut slices of something on a spit were a welcome bonus.

Charlie finished deciphering her handwritten code and handed it to Brandon, both failing to hide a smile. “First things first, someone I trust with my life tells me they found a Vault dweller.”

“John?! Is he…” Rosie didn’t know if she wanted the answer, there was nothing she could do for him.

“He’s with some old friends to the west.” Judging from the faces round the fire they weren’t actually friends. “He’s ok, for the meantime at least.” Brandon tossed the note into the fire. Clever and careful, that brought a smile to her split lips. Before she could ask one of the hundreds of questions she had, Brandon asked one of his own. “What do you know about Vaults?”

“Up until right now I didn’t know there was more than one.” Rosie laid out her sad tale of life under deep rock and heavy lies. Finding pale reflections of her rage and a great deal more empathy than she could ever manage. Then again these people didn’t know them like she did.

She told them of the jet black devices her and John wore, then the atmosphere changed. “Do you know what this is?” Brandon produced a small flat box housing a glass circle. Rosie shook her head. With a smile he pointed the box at Paul and pressed something. A bright flash pulsed from the device that almost made her flinch, and left Paul rubbing his eyes.

A slip of thin plastic ejected from the bottom of the box then quickly faded, revealing an image of Paul’s shocked face. “It’s a camera, it takes photographs, a moment captured forever.” Rosie understood. “Charlie took these last night.” Charlie produced a stack of more photographs, standing behind her with a comforting hand on her shoulder.

The first picture showed the back of her own head, red hair matted and torn from being dragged. In the centre Rosie could see the back of her own skull, and that wasn’t even the strange part. What should have been white bone appeared jet black, just like the device on her left arm.

The record of her pain she could no longer feel showed her arm, flesh cleaned and surgically opened, showing jet black bone. “I’m sorry Rosie.” Charlie sounded upset, more than that, scared. “I thought it was a piece of shrapnel, I had to get it before I stitched you up. I’ve…we’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Well, that’s not exactly true.” Brandon produced something like a thin book from his pack. “This is called a magazine, people in the old world read them for fun.” Rosie looked at the front cover seeing a handsome man in fine clothes. His arms around a beautiful woman in white. The headline read ‘Burton’s big day FIFTH time the charm!’ There was something familiar about the man but Rosie didn’t understand.

“Look at the centre page.” She flipped open the worn old magazine, finding a collection of photographs. The man and woman in various poses, having the time of their lives, dancing, smiling, laughing. Rosie started to get angry about being shown something that didn’t exist. “Look at his left arm.” There, under the sleeve of a fine jacket, a faint outline. You wouldn’t see it if you weren’t looking, but there it was, the outline of a pipboy.

Again and again she caught sight of the device on the man’s arm. As he shook hands, as he raised a glass, as he held the woman in white across his chest. “His name was Burton Blake.”

“Blake?!” Her surprise caught them off guard, Rosie had to explain.

“John’s last name is Blake.” It wasn’t an uncommon name, but it clearly registered with the others. Rosie felt unusually dense as she realised why the man looked familiar. He had John’s eyes, or John had his, technically.

“This man Blake, he was something of a genius by all accounts, an inventor, a coder, a scientist.” Maybe they weren’t related after all, Rosie thought to herself with a pained grin. Then she remembered the overused arrogant signature in the new code, B.B. Burton Blake. “Flip to the back.” On the inside cover was a picture of the blue eyed Burton. He stood in front of a building of pure white stone, real green trees clustered in front. Rosie felt a pang of sadness that it now probably looked like the ruined factory. Then she saw the name, spelt out in shining copper letters mounted on the wall.

“The Grand.” A cold shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the temperature. “That’s where those…things wanted to take me.” Rosie looked them in the eye in turn, seeing the pride Brandon had while Charlie and Paul touched fists. Matt had been staring out over the new, old world pretty much since Rosie started her sad tale. He looked happiest of them all. “Thank you. All of you.” Rosie couldn’t remember the last time she said that. She’d had so very little to be thankful for. All except John, and the jet black device.

Her gaze lingered on the piercing blue eyes that looked so familiar, then she read the writing out loud. The way John would, to make it real. “Blake Technical is going to change everything. What we think of cutting edge now will seem like steam engines and horse drawn carts. I’m going to change the worlds, and you can quote me on that.”

“We know that at some point before the bombs fell there was a plan. We know that this man Blake worked with the military and made them something to fight an invasion that never came. And we know it’s buried in a Vault.” Brandon poked at the fire as he spoke, his tone filled with remorse. Barely visible sparks drew Rosie’s eyes as they escaped up and into nothing, her mind drawn by the new glimpse of beauty in a bleak world. That moment brought her clarity.

“You want me to open it.”

“No.” Brandon looked right at her, his age and exhaustion visible in the flickering flames. “We want you to help us make sure it stays closed, so that whatever is in there can’t start the next Great War.”

“Rosie, we would have saved you no matter what, and we’ll do what we can for your people, because it’s the right thing to do.” Charlie smiled just long enough to amplify the fearful expression that followed. “None of that is going to matter if our friends find that Vault before we do.”

“And John is with these friends of yours?” John had her code, Rosie didn’t. No doubt she could recreate it with the newly upgraded device on her arm. But without the stolen source code, she couldn’t be sure.

“We used to belong to a group, an organisation like the military of the old world. Our goal is to keep the tech of the old world out of the wrong hands.” Brandon stared into the fire, Rosie saw her own heartbreak magnified. “I used to think I knew what that meant, but Clarke…a man I thought I knew better than myself. He can’t find it, ever, he’ll want to do right but no one should have that kind of power in this world.

“I’ll help you.” Rosie’s quick response caught them off guard. It seemed simple to her, there wasn’t much point in being free if it meant getting caught up in another war. Besides, Rosie saw how to turn this to her advantage. And if she happened to find out more about her pipboy all the better.

“If I can get inside I can corrupt the code, set the door on a timer and get out. That thing won’t move again, but I’d have to open it first and I can’t do that. I do know a man who can.” Rosie told them everything about the pipboy. The dreamlike state, the display inside her eyes, the addicts she’d killed. They tried to reassure her that she’d done nothing wrong, that these raiders had it coming anyway, apparently. Rosie hadn’t given them a second thought. “If I can get close to John I can get my code back.”

“How close?” Rosie seemed thrown by Brandon’s response.

“We…We’ve never been this far apart.” Rosie ran some numbers, all based on the old system. “Line of sight for sure.” Rosie lied, she wanted to see him. “Beyond that it’s hard to say. It’d take years to rewrite.”

Brandon sat back, taking in the information. Rosie watched the others take their cue from him. “Alright, I’ll set it in motion.”

“Boss…” Charlie raised an objection, Brandon gave a subtle nod.

“Rosie, your injuries. It could be weeks before you’re even walking, never mind wandering the wastes.” Rosie slumped back in her chair and everyone went quiet. They assumed she was processing the bad news. Rosie was scrolling through the medical tab inside her eyes. Within seconds she’d found what she wanted to know.

A small, almost unobtrusive dot appeared in the corner of her vision, a notification. *New FM signal found listen y/n?* Rosie selected it and held her breath.

“Good evening children, it’s me Lady Luck, live and a-live! Coming to you from Shadowtown, broadcasting all day, all night, from The Tower with even more power! First of all some urgent news, stay away from The City children! Lady Luck heard from a very reliable source today, there are things out there that all the luck in the world can’t save you from.”

“If this is the first time you’re hearing my dulcet tones, then welcome, Lady Luck is with you children. And we have a very special man to thank for that. A mighty, mighty, man who did something mighty foolish, but mighty brave. If you’re listening Mighty Man, know that Lady Luck is with you, always. And this one is just for you.” Rosie exhaled, just noticing her held breath.

“It’s John. He did this.” Charlie smiled, the others looked more sceptical. “Mighty brave and mighty stupid. It’s him.” Rosie knew he’d get there, further than she got. Although she couldn’t be sure who was safer.

Rosie started to trust her saviours. Beyond the pre-war magazine that would be near impossible to fake, she had no proof if what they said about John could be true. Yet this felt like enough, for now.

A bittersweet song played over the tinny pipboy radio, just for him. A woman singing in a soft melody, singing we’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. It brought tears to her eyes. “Set up a meeting. I’ll make it…He’d do it for me.” They all agreed. Rosie shifted to hand Brandon back the magazine, hoping to show it to John.

Rosie wiped her tears and stared out over the now black new old world, night fallen on the forest. And there in the distance, a tiny pin prick of light, too tall to be anything but the Tower with power. “Thank you for showing me this, it was worth getting up here.

“That isn’t why I brought you up here Rosie.” Brandon smiled, looking up deliberately slowly, getting her to do the same. Rosie’s racing mind came to halt, overwhelmed with beauty she couldn’t understand.

The endless blue had become dark and filled with lights. More than she could count, more than anyone could count in a lifetime. Clusters of lights swelled in the blackness, flowing through the dark above. “Stars.” Brandon had an awe struck tone that she would have shared, but Rosie couldn’t find words. She just hoped John could see them too.