The Paperworks

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The door that opens is the door in the side of what was once a barn. That was two hundred years ago, when this was Virginia and still green. The barn's beams are splintered and scorched with the vestiges of war and age; the roof is next to nonexistent. Between the pillars that once held up the second floor, the sun shines through, yielding glimpses of scrub and rock and yellowed-looking bushes. The burnt-out wreck of what was once a sizable automobile sags into the sandy soil off to the right.

"As I said," comments Ellen, "I didn't want anyone to come here unwarned. I'm sorry, Javert."

Comments

[never_shall_yield]

It...is certainly not what he was expecting. Though he is not sure what that was either, so he is left rather unsure what to think.

'You do not have to apologise.'

He looks around carefully. Whomever did this is the one who should apologise.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Still." Ellen shrugs. "It was a terrible shock to me when I first saw it. It seems only fair that I assume it's much the same for anyone else. We're a few miles north of Megaton. We'll be walking- unless you'd rather ride my cow, who's outside. I'd offer a horse, but I've never seen one alive in this world."

[never_shall_yield]

'I am not going to ride a cow, madame. It is not good for them. They are not made for it.'

He shoulders a small bag, and puts his cap on his head.

'I do not object to walking. Though you should see if you can bring a horse through from the bar. It would serve you well.'

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"They're the primary form of cargo transport around here," Ellen says mildly. "And sometimes they can be broken to the saddle. I thought I'd offer."

That said, she heads out into the full sunlight. She's wearing her armor, her Gauss rifle slung across her back; this is a relatively civilized area, but it's still the Wasteland, and radscorpions travel where raiders fear to tread. At least there's no one encamped on the remains of the old elevated highway this time. It was a bridge across the Potomac River once, but the central span collapsed long ago. Now it's not really worth much as anything except a strategic vantage point for would-be raiders and gunners, unless someone cares to post a guard to keep the mirelurks from trying to creep up there at night.

[never_shall_yield]

He just pulls a face at this statement, and starts walking.

And very soon, he finds he has no words to speak anyway. He has never seen such devastation, not in any of the uprisings he has seen in Paris, not even when the prisoners rioted in Toulon and tore the place apart with their bare hands. This is - no, there are no words to describe it.

'Where was this?'

Before this happened.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Arlington, Virginia," says Ellen. "The suburbs, anyway. Arlington city center was southeast of here."

She squints off into the further distance and then points out the fragmentary towers along the southeastern skyline.

"That was Washington, DC. The nation's capital. Some of the old buildings are still standing, but... well, you're seeing the most intact ones from her."

[never_shall_yield]

'I am not familiar with America. Though I have heard of Washington, of course.'

If those are the most intact buildings, this is worse than he could ever have thought.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Okay, fair," Ellen says. "That, there- that broken thing to our left? That used to be a four-lane highway- two cars, side by side, in either direction. There's a lot of ruined roads like that around here. They were wrecked when the bombs fell, and they've had two hundred years of decay on top of that."

She's keeping an eye on his expression. Her cow is tethered to a chunk of rebar up ahead, and the Brahmin is... probably going to take some explaining.

[never_shall_yield]

If she is watching, she will be rewarded with a look of incredulity beyond anything she may have seen before. Javert is incapable of keeping thoughts off his face - so there is a moment of surprise when he first sees the thing, which strengths to shock when it has sunk in. And then a flash of horror, which turns to something akin to disgust at the end.

He has stopped walking.

'What. Is that?'

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"That," says Ellen, "would be my cow. Shiphrah and Puah."

"^Mm_mmooo_ooo^oo_ooo," both heads inform him helpfully.

[never_shall_yield]

'That is not a cow.'

Of this, he is absolutely sure.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Yes it is," says Ellen. "People here call them Brahmins, but they're cows. The war poisoned the water and did things to the land I can't even begin to explain, and this is one of the results. All the cattle are born like that these days. I'm told that sometimes they give birth to single-headed calves, but most people consider those to be freaks of nature."

"Believe me, I was just as shocked the first time I saw one."

[never_shall_yield]

'Cows only have one head,' he says, stubbornly.

'Of this, I am absolutely sure.'

Nevertheless, he starts walking again.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"My father was a doctor," Ellen says mildly as she moves to untether the Brahmin and swing up into the saddle. "I learned to read from his medical texts. Be grateful that you've never seen the things that can go wrong with a pregnancy. There are worse abnormalities of development than this, and some of them even reach birth alive."

Shiphrah and Puah lows again and starts strolling amiably along at Javert's pace.

"We'll pass through Springvale next. It's the ruins of a small town where people who used to work for the government lived. There's a group of orphans living in the remains of the schoolhouse; a friend of mine serves as their guardsman. You can't really miss him. He's huge, and a disease turned his skin green."

[never_shall_yield]

'Of course it did.'

He has no wish to know anything at all about pregnancy, abnormalities or not. The thought of it is unpleasant to him.

'Are the children similarly afflicted?'

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"No, not here," Ellen says. "They're all as healthy as you can expect. Some of them have a few extra fingers or toes, but that's it. That's pretty common here- you learn to ignore it. There are other places where it's worse, but the kids here are just a little underfed, like pretty much everybody else."

[never_shall_yield]

At least he will fit in in that regard.

'So, you are saying I should not comment on it.'

Reading between the lines. He likely would not in any case. It would not be polite. But, as mentioned, there is no disguising his thoughts, so it is probably irrelevant whether he opens his mouth or not.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Not on the fingers, no," says Ellen. "It's okay if Fawkes startles you. Fawkes is one of two people with his condition I know of who's still civilized and intelligent- the disease usually affects the brain, too. Uncle Leo won't be here, though, he usually spends his time away from civilization trying to keep the peace."

The bulk of the old Springvale school building is visible up ahead, to the left of the ruins of the road. Houses in varying states of disrepair are lined up along the right. Here and there, wrecks of prewar cars remain where they were when the bombs fell.

"If anyone asks where you're from, they might not recognize the name 'France'. Some of the orphans might, and Fawkes almost certainly will, and some of the Brothers. Most people here don't really know anything at all about Europe, or anywhere more than a day or two's travel away."

[never_shall_yield]

'I will not lie,' he says, immediately.

He is wondering what can be so different about this 'Fawkes', but he will no doubt find out soon enough.

'Do people travel across the Atlantic still?'

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I'm not asking you to. I'm saying people here won't know where France is. Or even have heard of the name," Ellen says. "Most of them won't know where England is, either, or anywhere else in Europe.... the only people I know of who ever crossed the Atlantic are an Irishman named Colin Moriarty and an Englishman named Alistair Tenpenny, but they're both dead. I don't know if they used boats or airships or what."

A human figure atop the school building pauses, peering down at the two travelers. Ellen catches sight of the silhouette and waves. It waves back, then disappears from sight.

"That's Fawkes. He'll be down to see us in a moment."

[never_shall_yield]

'My point was-'

He sees Fawkes. Or rather, the shape of him. He falters a little. He has never seen anyone green with disease still living.

'-that if I say where I am from and they ask how I got here, is there a response that will be honest, yet not cause difficulties for you?'

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"You can still tell them," says Ellen. "We have... I'm not really sure how to explain it, but there are a number of people in the northern Wasteland who were put into a kind of suspended animation, a coma of sorts, for hundreds of years. Many of them are from other parts of the world. I've been working with them, trying to get them used to the world as it is now. If any trouble comes up, I can remind people of that work and let them draw their own conclusions. People generally won't press it further than that."

She tugs at the cow's reins, and the Brahmin stops.

"Alternatively, I can introduce you, and just say that you're from outside the Wasteland. People know I've traveled a long way, so it's not unusual for me to have found outsiders and brought them back with me."

[never_shall_yield]

'I would prefer the latter. It is less misleading.'

He stops as the cow does, and glances around uneasily. This place is too quiet. Too large. Too empty.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"All right," says Ellen. "Then that's-"

"My friend!" booms out a voice from the direction of the school. "You've returned! And in company, I see."

The fellow standing in the school's doorway is- well, Ellen did say huge, but that may have been an understatement. Fawkes is easily seven or eight feet tall, and looks as if someone tried to pour nine feet of muscle into his eight feet of skin. Icon to the contrary, he's actually quite well dressed, his suit and coat tailored to his specific size and bulk and only distorted a little by the massive mechanical backpack he wears. The pack is connected to a ... well, some kind of mechanism; a weapon, perhaps? Whatever it is, it's easily the size of a small cannon, and he carries it in his right hand while bracing it with his left.

"I did indeed," says Ellen with a smile. "Fawkes, this is Javert; Javert, this is my good friend Fawkes."

[never_shall_yield]

Javert simply stares, for far longer than is polite.

This thing is a giant. An ogre. And yet...one that speaks, and dressed in fairly respectable clothes. He cannot quite make these things match up in his head.

In the end, he simply inclines his head. Warily.