Go East, Young Man!
By: Matt Olsen
Wasteland. It’s the same in Washington D.C. as anywhere else; desolate, dusty, and unlivable. I trekked the endless wastes between the Pacific and the Atlantic, and I can tell you, it all looks exactly the same.
Some of my Brothers believed that if we traveled east, we would find paradise. They believed that just over the next hill, technological marvels, fertile soil, hell, even civilization waited patiently for us to arrive. I let them believe this desperate reverie, but while they stood idly by, I volunteered for the mission. I had no choice. I knew that false optimism would not be enough to survive the horrors of the wastes.
When I walk amongst the ruins of D.C., the city that was once the center of power and technology in the western world, I often think to myself that I could be in any of the hundreds of ruined cities scattered across the wasteland. D.C. is hardly worth seeing, let alone visiting. That is, unless you like irradiated bars and brothels.
When the Enclave fell, I was still a young boy. I didn’t understand how the Core would change. What I did know was what my fellows told me: a rumor that the Enclave was hell bent on exterminating life on the mainland. We must have spent the better part of a year locked underground, not allowed to make our scheduled trades with the caravans. I later discovered that the Elders had decided not to intervene. They knew that a tribal called the “Chosen One” was determined to stop the Enclave, but they didn’t know if he could succeed. For us, it wasn’t important.
The Brotherhood of Steel was never interested in numbers. We were interested in knowledge. The world was once a paradise, but that wasn’t enough for mankind. Humans stopped growing in brain power and only grew in numbers. The limited resources of our planet were squandered, and we were forced to fight. We fought on until we destroyed the very livelihood we sought to protect. The Brotherhood of Steel continued to fight, but not for our own selfish reasons. We fought to protect the genetic and technological future of the human race.
Unfortunately, the New California Republic wasn’t interested in humanity. They were only interested in acquiring the knowledge that we suffered and died to attain. With the Enclave gone, their leaders saw an opportunity to reclaim the former United States as their own. At first, they traveled to our bunkers and demanded that we join them and yield the technology which they desired. They told us that we had no choice; that the benefits we could provide were too essential to be ignored. When we declined, their senators and governors voted to attack the few locations that they knew existed. They won, and they killed all of the Brothers in those bunkers, but they were unable to gain a single scrap of technology. Our men destroyed the bunkers and died valiantly protecting the secrets contained within them. The rest of us remained hidden to survive.
It did not surprise our leaders when the NCR attacked. It merely confirmed our fear that they were both capable and willing to use their military against those who would oppose them. The Elders decided that it was finally time to send Brothers east to reclaim the most sacred of all treasures: the Pentagon. They believed that some of the most powerful technologies ever conceived might still be buried there.
The Elders put an elaborate plan into motion. They used the Brotherhood’s significant wealth to create a lie. They spread a rumor that to the east, great plains full of wheat and corn were finally starting to grow. Their lie convinced the desperate fools of the wastes to travel east hoping for a better life. The Elders wanted these pioneers to found settlements and relay back information that would help the Brotherhood succeed in our mission. All of this was for nothing. No one made it back.
The Elders devised a new plan. They decided it was necessary to send a small but well equipped party on foot across the wastes. The journey would take a very long time, but power armor would make the trip possible. The Elders wanted four married couples, for obvious reasons. Even if we made it to the east coast, there was no guarantee we would ever be able to return. In that event it would be prudent to start families so that the Brotherhood would be able to maintain a permanent outpost. Recruiting was out of the question. There was no way to know the purity of the humans we would inevitably find. Only two couples volunteered, including my wife and myself. The other two were chosen randomly. The very next day we were sealed in power armor and covered in supplies, and we headed out into the wastes. Our mission was clear: head east, and survive.
Once beyond the Core we traveled cautiously. We knew that something was out there, something so wonderful that the settlers did not want to leave it, or something so terrible that it had killed them all. One night while we slept in open wasteland, we were ambushed. I awoke to the sound of Brothers screaming for their lives. Those of us still living brought our tremendous weapons to bear, and killed an entire army of spear wielding mutants. The scavengers of the wastes would pick at their bones for decades. Thankfully, my wife was one of the survivors, along with one of the other couples.
Two days journey later we were confronted by a peculiar band of mutants. Many were naked. Some were dressed as tribals and carried spears, like the ones we had murdered following the ambush. However, one of them wore armor that appeared to be entirely composed of human bones. He deftly balanced a street lamp on his shoulder like a club. This mutant removed his helmet and yelled to us not to open fire. He begged us for an audience, which we reluctantly allowed. He told us that he was the leader of the mutants of the eastern plains. We had apparently violated the sacred homeland of his tribe. I asked him if we were the first, and he said that many others had died by their hands. He said that we had defeated his army, and were therefore the new leaders of his tribe. With that, he handed me a crown of bones. With the protection of the mutant clans, we were able to survive the journey to D.C. You would not believe the horrors we confronted in that empty wasteland, and I could not bear to repeat them.
Once we established an outpost in D.C., it didn’t take much exploring to realize that our mission was a failure. Where the Pentagon should have been, there was a hole many times bigger than the Glow. Even with power armor, the radiation was too violent for any of us to survive. For a while we tried to hire the locals, but those foolish enough to accept the payment were unable to make it out alive. If secrets remain there, they will forever be out of our reach.
By: Matt Olsen
Wasteland. It’s the same in Washington D.C. as anywhere else; desolate, dusty, and unlivable. I trekked the endless wastes between the Pacific and the Atlantic, and I can tell you, it all looks exactly the same.
Some of my Brothers believed that if we traveled east, we would find paradise. They believed that just over the next hill, technological marvels, fertile soil, hell, even civilization waited patiently for us to arrive. I let them believe this desperate reverie, but while they stood idly by, I volunteered for the mission. I had no choice. I knew that false optimism would not be enough to survive the horrors of the wastes.
When I walk amongst the ruins of D.C., the city that was once the center of power and technology in the western world, I often think to myself that I could be in any of the hundreds of ruined cities scattered across the wasteland. D.C. is hardly worth seeing, let alone visiting. That is, unless you like irradiated bars and brothels.
When the Enclave fell, I was still a young boy. I didn’t understand how the Core would change. What I did know was what my fellows told me: a rumor that the Enclave was hell bent on exterminating life on the mainland. We must have spent the better part of a year locked underground, not allowed to make our scheduled trades with the caravans. I later discovered that the Elders had decided not to intervene. They knew that a tribal called the “Chosen One” was determined to stop the Enclave, but they didn’t know if he could succeed. For us, it wasn’t important.
The Brotherhood of Steel was never interested in numbers. We were interested in knowledge. The world was once a paradise, but that wasn’t enough for mankind. Humans stopped growing in brain power and only grew in numbers. The limited resources of our planet were squandered, and we were forced to fight. We fought on until we destroyed the very livelihood we sought to protect. The Brotherhood of Steel continued to fight, but not for our own selfish reasons. We fought to protect the genetic and technological future of the human race.
Unfortunately, the New California Republic wasn’t interested in humanity. They were only interested in acquiring the knowledge that we suffered and died to attain. With the Enclave gone, their leaders saw an opportunity to reclaim the former United States as their own. At first, they traveled to our bunkers and demanded that we join them and yield the technology which they desired. They told us that we had no choice; that the benefits we could provide were too essential to be ignored. When we declined, their senators and governors voted to attack the few locations that they knew existed. They won, and they killed all of the Brothers in those bunkers, but they were unable to gain a single scrap of technology. Our men destroyed the bunkers and died valiantly protecting the secrets contained within them. The rest of us remained hidden to survive.
It did not surprise our leaders when the NCR attacked. It merely confirmed our fear that they were both capable and willing to use their military against those who would oppose them. The Elders decided that it was finally time to send Brothers east to reclaim the most sacred of all treasures: the Pentagon. They believed that some of the most powerful technologies ever conceived might still be buried there.
The Elders put an elaborate plan into motion. They used the Brotherhood’s significant wealth to create a lie. They spread a rumor that to the east, great plains full of wheat and corn were finally starting to grow. Their lie convinced the desperate fools of the wastes to travel east hoping for a better life. The Elders wanted these pioneers to found settlements and relay back information that would help the Brotherhood succeed in our mission. All of this was for nothing. No one made it back.
The Elders devised a new plan. They decided it was necessary to send a small but well equipped party on foot across the wastes. The journey would take a very long time, but power armor would make the trip possible. The Elders wanted four married couples, for obvious reasons. Even if we made it to the east coast, there was no guarantee we would ever be able to return. In that event it would be prudent to start families so that the Brotherhood would be able to maintain a permanent outpost. Recruiting was out of the question. There was no way to know the purity of the humans we would inevitably find. Only two couples volunteered, including my wife and myself. The other two were chosen randomly. The very next day we were sealed in power armor and covered in supplies, and we headed out into the wastes. Our mission was clear: head east, and survive.
Once beyond the Core we traveled cautiously. We knew that something was out there, something so wonderful that the settlers did not want to leave it, or something so terrible that it had killed them all. One night while we slept in open wasteland, we were ambushed. I awoke to the sound of Brothers screaming for their lives. Those of us still living brought our tremendous weapons to bear, and killed an entire army of spear wielding mutants. The scavengers of the wastes would pick at their bones for decades. Thankfully, my wife was one of the survivors, along with one of the other couples.
Two days journey later we were confronted by a peculiar band of mutants. Many were naked. Some were dressed as tribals and carried spears, like the ones we had murdered following the ambush. However, one of them wore armor that appeared to be entirely composed of human bones. He deftly balanced a street lamp on his shoulder like a club. This mutant removed his helmet and yelled to us not to open fire. He begged us for an audience, which we reluctantly allowed. He told us that he was the leader of the mutants of the eastern plains. We had apparently violated the sacred homeland of his tribe. I asked him if we were the first, and he said that many others had died by their hands. He said that we had defeated his army, and were therefore the new leaders of his tribe. With that, he handed me a crown of bones. With the protection of the mutant clans, we were able to survive the journey to D.C. You would not believe the horrors we confronted in that empty wasteland, and I could not bear to repeat them.
Once we established an outpost in D.C., it didn’t take much exploring to realize that our mission was a failure. Where the Pentagon should have been, there was a hole many times bigger than the Glow. Even with power armor, the radiation was too violent for any of us to survive. For a while we tried to hire the locals, but those foolish enough to accept the payment were unable to make it out alive. If secrets remain there, they will forever be out of our reach.
