Chapter 12: Farsighted

At an indeterminate point in time, Jon made a walk back to Sanctuary from his station home. It was also a business now. The booths and stools always had customers in them, and Minutemen always ate for free, with a Mr. Handy cook that was just beginning to become more. The hot rods could even get serviced in the garage, again free for Minutemen, with an Atom cat from the Concorde chapter. The only hard and fast rule was to stay the fuck out of Fort Kickass, being an official Minutemen post that Jon manned as often as he could.

As things progressed along in his story, he appointed civilian ministers to rule in his stead. He was no longer a dictator, but the head of an oligarchic council. He was not as busy a man as he could be, and that suited him just fine. Many Augments could never appreciate the small things, everything needed to be of a high speed, or some high minded ideal, for glory, honor, and history, or some bullshit.

Jon didn’t didn’t need any of their supremacy ideology to be superior. Proof of his superiority stood before him. There was now bustling and growing town rising up from the ashes of the greatest genocide of Man in this word’s history. His allies got stronger by the day, as did his Minutemen, as his enemies only got weaker.

Jon was happy to see the wreath and guard at the Tomb of the Unknown, becoming a memorial for both the Minutemen and the uncountable and nameless dead of the Great War. He left them to their duty, and decided not to approach though the dead trees on this visit. It was a good place for quiet refection every so often. The town themselves had decided to repurposed the memorial, and placed their own carved stone next to it.

They also decided no restoration projects would take place on that patch of slightly irradiated dirt. It would be a reminder for all time of the Great War, and would be tended in it’s state. Jon had no objections, and simply gave silent approval they didn’t need from him anyway. He reflected at the place as often as he could. He was treading a fine line between Ceaser and Cincinnatus. He hopped he was doing the right thing, and that he wasn't like them in the end. He was finally taking Mamma Murphy up on her offer.

“Sturgis, Old Paul.”

“Howdy.”

“Heey Boss.”

He walked a little more though the town. “Marcy, Jun.”

“General.”

“General. We cant thank you enough for this. For everything. Marcy’s pregnant again.”

“Good for you both. I’m happy to hear.”

“We’re naming them Jon, or Joan.”

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He smiled warmly and nodded. He walked a little more. A group of kids were playing it a new soccer ball. Jon gave a silly face and the trademarked thumbs up. Vault-Tech continued being a wasteland Joke.

The young woman that wanted a store was peddling. Her wares were marketed as pre-war treasures and artifacts, but she and everyone knew it was junk for scrap, and it was a bit she played. Her side gig was dealing arms and ammo for private use, including a private stock of actual historical artifacts of all manner. She was becoming a wealthy business woman. Jon smiled and waved, and she returned it.

He found Mamma Murphy’s house, close to the communal fire pit where her own comfortable chair was sitting near. Most houses were converted to community use, using ASAMs to build their own buildings, mostly bunkhouses with small rooms. Plans were underway for Jon’s apartment blocks. Out of respect for the Quincy Five however, they were the only allowed to use the houses for themselves. They picked the houses out the first night they arrived, and no one in the town would take those from them.

Jon nocked on the door, and Mamma Murphy called him in. She said, “Oh, kid. I never see you coming. Heh, the sight’s real fuzzy with you. Come to talk to Old Mamma Murphy finally?”

Jon sat next to her on her couch and she turned the radio next to her off. Jon smirked and said, “Sorry Mamma Murphy.”

“It’s okay, kid. You’re a mover and a doer. You got to be out there to move and do. Got some jet?”

Jon smiled. He brought a selection. He kept a stash in Fort Kickass, even if he didn’t partake. He figured if there was another doomsday, maybe some wasteland jockey would have a good day. They would also find his Minutemen flag, and spare sets of gear and weapons. It would be a good day indeed, and they would also find the holotape he made with a short history of the Minutemen, and their bravery, their honor, their refusal to submit to any odds.

They would have an interesting choice to make. If they were interesting, it would be both. His skeleton with a hand on his crotch and his favorite skinner in the other was his high ideal for his death and the history of his remains. Behold, a superior man! Stenciled in the blood of his enemies.

Jon pulled some Jet out, and said his peace, “The one and only time. And I don’t want any specifics. I just want to know if everything turns out okay. Yes or no, if that makes it easier.”

“Heh, old Mamma Murphy has at least one more in her. A few probably. But Mamma Murphy is giving up the chems. She tells her stories to the kids now. One more hit for the General.”

Jon lightly gave her the jet inhaler. He huffed in, and her eyes opened wide. She wasn't strung out however. Her eyes were as clear as Jon had ever seen them, as if her cataracts had simply vanished.

“Oh I see it, kid. Up there. It’s so beautiful. A flower of steel and glittering gold It grows in a cloud of creation. But there’s a king. It’s his castle. Others simply fall into the trap. Heh, heh he never met the little blue knight, the Shepard of Nations. Th-thats all I got, kid.”

Jon would need much time to consider this reading. If he got up there, then everything was okay on Earth. But the forest was indeed dark. And Jon would be king of that castle. What did the Shepard of Nations mean? A simple title, or actual power. He wouldn't know until he knew. He would think on it more at the Tomb.

“Thanks, Mamma Murphy.”

“Heh, now Mamma Murphy has seen everything. Thank, you, kid. I’m sure your busy.”

Jon smiled, “I have time for a story.”

She smiled, “Hmmm. You think killing a Deathclaw with a car is good? Let me tell you about them time Old Mamma Murphy killed one with a single bullet.”

Jon gave her a shark smile as he listened raptly.