Foundling

Whose A Good Boy?

As I slowly regained consciousness, the throbbing pain in my head reminded me of the regrettable decision to open that bottle of moonshine. Wincing, I forced my eyes open, only to be greeted by the piercing rays of the morning sun, making my stomach churn in protest. Leaning over the edge of the old couch, I couldn't hold back the surge of nausea, and I vomited, splashing liquid mess onto the dingy rug below.

Just then, the familiar whirring sound of Codsworth's engine reached my ears through the creaky door. "Good morning, Mum! How are you feeling?" he cheerfully inquired, but each word seemed to intensify my pounding headache. I struggled to moisten my dry mouth enough to respond.

"Shit," I managed to mutter, my voice barely audible.

Undeterred by my state, Codsworth asked, "Would you like some coffee?" The mere thought of coffee made my stomach turn even more, and I couldn't help but gag at the idea.

"Water then," Codsworth quickly adjusts, sensing my predicament. He glides over to the sink, the sound of running water following in his wake. Humming a little tune, he returns to me with a cup of water, and I gratefully accept it, draining it in one swift motion before leaning back, groaning in misery.

Groaning, I shifted my thoughts to a possible solution. Hawthorne's house might still have some Med-X stashed away. It had always been my go-to remedy for headaches, and perhaps it could help me now.

"I found some Nuka-Noggin up in the cupboard. Would you like some?" Codsworth offers, holding out a syringe. Without a second thought, I grab it and administer the Nuka-Noggin into my mouth, swallowing it quickly. I had purchased it way back before Shaun was born, and its advertisement boasted a taste akin to Nuka-Cola. It doesn't. It taste like ass.

As the medicine takes effect, my headache starts to subside, and my heartbeat quickens ever so slightly. Feeling a bit more alive, I muster the strength to stand up and glance at my trusty Pip-Boy. The device displays two new radio stations and indicates that I slept for a prolonged twelve and a half hours. It also shows various numbers related to my vital functions. Deciding to ignore those for now, I navigate to the map view.

The old Boston map, displayed on my Pip-Boy, shows the surrounding area. Most locations are grayed out, indicating the need for updates. Some are marked in red, signifying that their beacons have been destroyed. Among the limited functional areas, Sanctuary is highlighted in green, with a person-shaped dot representing my current location. I can't help but feel a mix of relief and concern about my isolated spot in this desolate world.I flick to the next screen on my Pip-Boy, revealing a blank calendar. Intrigued, I press the screen, and a box appears, prompting me to enter a new event. I turn the knob, and a to-do list pops up, waiting to be filled with tasks and reminders to help me navigate this chaotic landscape.

Moving on to the last section, I explore the available radio stations. Among them, I select Diamond City Radio, and the Pip-Boy immediately starts blaring music. Startled by the loud sound, I quickly lower the volume to a more tolerable level. The song playing is Pistol Packin' Mama by Bing Crosby, and its nostalgic familiarity brings back memories of a time when life was normal.

Curiosity leads me to check the Holotape tab, and I find the Holotape that Codsworth had given me, along with additional controls. Feeling a mix of sadness and longing, I press the eject button, and the Holotape pops out. I hold it in my hands, my thoughts drifting to Nate, my husband, and Shaun, my son. Nate's final moments in the vault replay in my mind, the image of his body frozen and the blue jumpsuit stained with blood. His last words were calling out my name, a heartbreaking memory that lingers in my heart.

As I turn the Holotape over, I notice a small handprint on the back, accompanied by the words "Hi, Nora." My tears flow freely, but there's a bittersweet smile on my face as I recognize Shaun's handprint. The thought of my son brings both pain and hope, knowing that he's still out there somewhere.