Chapter 4 Vault X

The next few years were the best of Burton’s life. His work progressed faster than he hoped. Access to government supercomputers allowed the code to grow like a weed. More than grow, evolve beyond anything he could have imagined.

He’d used his influence to get planning permission for a skyscraper, south of downtown. It would be the tallest structure for miles around. One foot taller than the old man’s gaudy casino. Burton had closed the deal by selling the underground parking as a public bomb shelter.

In truth it worked out cheaper to use the same hardened, lead infused concrete that he used for Vaults. A perfect cycle. The more the bots dug, the more he saved on construction costs. And the more Ultracite he found. Worth more than its weight in gold. Even if the runoff killed a few fish.

Burton’s personal life had also never been better. He’d withdrawn from the public eye, after one last display. The gossip magazine called it ‘The Wedding of The Decade’. Burton’s fifth. Unlike the vapid supermodels or gold digging social climbers, Clara didn’t want or need anything from him.

She took a job as a sales rep in the Vault showroom. She sold more space than Burton could build, turning a room underground into the latest must have status symbol. Her idea to tell the rubes it had to be kept secret only made them talk about it more.

Every weekend they would meet at The Grand or the lighthouse Clara led the renovations of. Never far away from a shelter. Something that mattered more and more as things beyond the Green Valley deteriorated. Riots, shortages, automation taking jobs. And a commie jackboot on the fuel supply.

Burton leant on the polished brass railing at the top of the lighthouse, staring out over the frozen lake. He took a few paces round as a car pulled up. Clara had driven down the shore to get breakfast.

“You know we have coffee downstairs.” Burton half complained as Clara laid out the food.

“Not got chilli dogs downstairs.” Clara’s normal grace vanished. “Not got newspapers either.” She mumbled between bites of her favourite food.

Burton took the folded up paper so it wouldn’t get smeared with grease. In a huge font above the fold there was a single word, ‘Victory!’. With a picture of a T-51 suit of power armour. Burton should have been pleased, but all he could see was the date. January twenty seventy seven. “We’d have done this years ago if they’d listened to—”

“The great Burton Blake.” Clara nipped at his ego to keep it in check.

“Exactly.” He shrugged it off, opening the container to find a bite taken out of his.

“I love you.” Clara said with a smile as she opened her second container.

“Me, or the chilli dog?” Burton asked.

“Yes.” She mumbled back.

“If you get fat I’ll trade you in.” Burton joked, watching Clara laugh with a mouthful of chilli. Which only made them both laugh more. Fifth time really is the charm, he thought.

A week later Burton strode through the fake industrial estate he’d built to hide Vault X. Office buildings that were literally four walls and a roof. Hollow shells that looked like factories. All storage for the equipment the bots were taking underground. Burton walked through the convincing doors, through the stacked pallets, and down.

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Beneath the calm above lay a hive of activity, like a colony of ants. A handful of personnel oversaw the operation. All vetted and trusted. Each with their own place in a Vault, as long as they stayed quiet. Burton hitched a ride on the motorised cart to get to the open Vault door. The guard in the booth waved him through and he took the lift down.

A knock on the steel door drew Burton from unpacking boxes. “Yeah?”

“Thought you might want a break.” The grey man looked like he needed one. “Plus I get a better table when I dine with the owner.”

The restaurant in The Grand was all but empty. Burton wondered how much they’d made tonight as he left an extravagant tip. “So, you might not see me for a while.” The grey man lit a cigarette, drawing out the moment. “Remember when I mentioned my old c.o.?”

“Yeah, how is he?” Burton asked.

“Fine. It’ll take more than an artillery shell to kill Hard Man Harlow.” Burton saw the fondness and concern in the grey man’s face. “He’s very happy with his private Vault...and he’s in.” Burton banged the table in triumph.

“That’s it, we have everything in place.” With the head of a prestigious military academy on board he had the most important part of Vault X ready.

“Not quite. I have fifty families to visit. Once they sign we can start in September.” The grey man looked hesitant for the first time.

“These kids will be getting a world class education, it’s no different than a boarding school.” Burton saw his words fall short. “And when they’re ready...we could have taken Anchorage in months, not years.”

“You don’t have to convince me Blake, I think what we do will save lives.” The grey man became lost in memory for a moment. “I was special forces, a sniper. I saw a lot of awful shit through that scope. A single shot at the right target can end a war, Burton. We’ll have soldiers who can make that shot at any target.”

“And when there are no more targets?” Burton saw he asked a stupid question.

“There are always targets, that never changes.” The grey man stood, buttoned his jacket and said goodnight. Burton lingered at the table, a seed of doubt sown in his mind.

It had taken months to get Vault X liveable. Bots were great at getting boxes from here to there, or welding panels in place. However all the intricate wiring and plumbing had to be done by hand. The need for secrecy above all meant trusted hands were hard to find.

Burton did what he could, mainly in his lab and residence. The lab rivalled any he’d worked in before. Spacious, well equipped. The same polished resin floor and simulated sun lamps that ran through the top two levels.

His residence felt like home. Wood panels, imported rugs, some of his more exotic antiques. Burton would stay there through the week, heading to the lighthouse at the weekend. It quickly became routine. He would spend his weeks pushing the boundaries of bioengineering and weekends by the lake with Clara.

When the green leaves began to turn and fall, fifty students arrived at Vault X. Half boys, half girls. Even the twenty staff members were split evenly. The bus had driven all night. Tired and scared looking children filtered into the atrium. Burton couldn’t believe how slight they looked. General Harlow greeted the wide eyed boys and girls, sending them off with friendly staff to their group dorms.

They returned an hour later to a sumptuous breakfast buffet. All dressed in vault-suits, like the adults wore. Then, one by one, the children were sent to Burton in the lab.

“Small pinch.” He said with a smile each time a pipboy attached. Sinking two hair thin filaments into their arms.

The first day revolved around the scavenger hunt Burton designed. It familiarised the children with their new home, Each team of five would run all over the Vault, at least the areas they were cleared for. Solving puzzles and challenges to be rewarded with a single letter. They got through it faster than he thought, finding the password for a locked door. ‘Superhero.’

It opened to the rec room. Inside the open room lay plush furniture, pool tables, ping pong. A jukebox, comic books and mock diner staffed by bots. Burton had read the files on all of them. Most were orphaned army brats, some were wards of the state. All of them grew up poor like he did. They’re going to love it here, he thought. Plucked from hardship and adversity to achieve something greater. As he had done.