Another Unoriginal Oneshot Book

Gula et Moderatio

The Boneyard, NCR, 2240.
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Edward's blond hair fell lank around his dusty face. His mother had told him and his brother to wash well — today was her big interview, and she wanted the three of them looking their best. Edward had to smirk at her naïveté. The Followers wanted a sob story, not polished choir boys. He knew them; he'd halfway been raised by them.

Diane had worked for the Followers as a young woman, before getting married. Later, when Edward's father was killed, she'd come back seeking refuge and work. She'd been a little vague with him on the details.

He remembered leaving, though — seven years old, middle of the night, his things packed hastily in a duffel bag and given to Leon's father to carry. She'd left his stuffed dog. He'd thrown a tantrum and the man had dragged him in a headlock off the library grounds. Diane had promised a better life out there, with the man who was supposed to be his stepfather, but it never manifested. He disappeared on them before Leon was even born.

And Diane had delayed coming back for six years. Stealing away like a thief in the night so no one had the chance to talk her out of it — yeah, Edward would be embarrassed too. Now she was terrified that they wouldn't be accepted, so she spared no effort trying not to look desperate. The exact wrong thing to do when it came to these saps.

Leon was predictably on his worst behavior, refusing to sit still in his chair. He alternated between climbing under it, standing on the seat, and sitting sideways to kick his brother under the armrest. Diane had been whisked away for her interview, so Edward was the one to blame for not controlling him. A shame pounding him was out of the question.

"Hey, buddy," prompted a smiling lady in ringlets. "How about you sit in your chair and play with this for awhile?" She presented Leon with a toy train, rolling it along the arm of the chair to demonstrate. His greedy little hands plucked it from hers, and he glowed with excitement as he experimented with different surfaces to roll it on.

"Gosh, miss, thank you for letting Leon borrow that toy of yours," Edward exclaimed. "He's never seen something like that before. He forgot his manners."

Leon's head popped up at that. "Thanks," he said shortly, and went back to rolling the train down Edward's shoulder.

"Oh, that's quite alright," the lady smiled. "I'm Janice Haggerty, one of the archivists."

Edward put on his best listening-and-ignoring-Leon face as he ran the numbers in his head whether that was a position with influence. He decided it was better than nothing.

"He doesn't sit still easily on account of his underpants, ma'am." Leon looked up in confusion. "We don't have any spares." Edward double-checked that the archivist was appropriately sympathetic, then continued spinning. "He gets nightmares and wets the bed."

"Oh. Goodness," said Janice. "You have bad dreams, honey?"

The boy looked at her thoughtfully, then down at his train. "One time I dreamed I was in a big forest with bugs and trees. And a big bird picked me up into the sky, he was this big—!" He stood up on the chair again to demonstrate. Edward had heard this story, and unfortunately it didn't have the sort of nightmarish twist he was looking for.

"He has all kinds of dreams," he amended. "Active imagination."

"Where's my mom?" Leon interrupted.

"She's doing her interview... kiddo." The term of endearment might have been laying it on a little thick. "You know, so we can find somewhere to stay? And we don't have to hide in those scary NCR facilities?"

"The NCR does the bare minimum for its people," Janice complained. "Too busy lining bureaucrats' pockets. When they're not lining the brahmin barons'." Edward nodded furiously, as if he'd been preaching the same his entire fourteen years.