FO4 | Book 0: The Diaries of Anarchy ✔️

November 21, 2281

Guy didn't meet me at the bar that afternoon. He hadn't been showing up. Always came up with some kind of excuse that I knew was bullshit. I drank a beer by myself.

Two Russian guys wound up buyin' the bar — Yefim and Vadim Bobrov. They were all-around good guys, but they just weren't Randy. Though me and the rest of the staff got to keep our jobs, nothin' felt the same.

I ordered another beer, and Vadim handed it to me with a smirk. I still barely knew this guy, but he was my boss. I didn't wanna say anything rude and risk loosin' it, but he just wouldn't stop smirkin' at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Is nothing. You just look very sad," he said in his heavy accent.

"And that's... funny?"

"Not at all."

I stared at him and that smirk that just kept growin' wider. "Then why are you smilin' at me?"

"Sadness and me — we're old pals. But I drown him every time I see him. Ha ha!"

His boisterous laughter filled the bar, but if I could roll my eyes any harder, I'd have went back in time.

"How long you waited to use that joke?"

"Not long. I used just the other day on someone different." He wiped the tear from his eye. "But seriously, John. Why you still here? Your shift is over. You spend more time here than at home."

"Can I take the beer to-go?"

"I don't give a shit."

I took my beer and got up from the stool. My ass was sore and my legs were stiff. I'd been sittin' there for at least an hour waitin' to see if Guy was gonna show, but he never did.

I decided I'd stop by his house, beer in hand, thinkin' maybe I'd just bring him one so he didn't have to make a trip to the bar at all. First I stopped at the garage to see if he was still there, but only his apprentice was.

"Hey," I called to him. "Where's the mechanic?"

This guy was about mid-twenties with shaggy black hair and overalls. Looked like he knew what he was doin' though. Guy trained him well.

Instead of givin' me the answer I was hopin' for, he just shrugged. "If you're looking for Guy, he's probably at home or something. He quit today, so I'm the mechanic now."

I dropped the beer. "W-What? He quit?"

The guy nodded. "This morning. Said he had other plans and told me 'good luck.'"

I rushed down the path and swerved through the foot traffic to get to Guy's house at Home Plate. I banged on his door, worryin' like hell at first. It wasn't like him to just up and quit like that, and he was still fit to work. I was hopin' somethin' wasn't horribly wrong.

But when he opened the door and looked at me with a perfectly calm expression, I was hot.

"What the hell are you doing? What's wrong with you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You just quit your job? Without a second thought? I thought somethin' was wrong with you. Your apprentice said you had other plans and just went home."

He crossed his arms. "What were you so afraid of?"

"That you'd... I dunno, killed yourself or somethin'..."

"Why on earth would you think that?"

"You just stopped comin' to the bar. You haven't been very social lately. You've just... been actin' different. I know you've been through a lot, but tell me if somethin' like that ever crosses your mind, you hear me?"

He nodded. "Don't worry, I don't plan on offing myself anytime soon."

I sighed in relief. "Well... now that we got that settled, mind tellin' me why you quit your job?"

We went inside. I took a seat on the couch while he sat in his armchair. That's when I took note of how clean his house was. The coffee table didn't have any clutter on it, and there wasn't a single half-empty box of cereal or dirty plate left on the counter in the kitchen. His throw blanket on the couch was folded and hung over the back. His shoes were put together by the door. This was unusual.

"I have something to tell you, John," he said carefully. "I think I'm going to run for mayor."

"Good one. Tell me another."

"I'm serious. I want to run. I've already got a campaign and everything."

I raised an eyebrow at him. For a split second — just for a split second — I thought of the possibility of him bein' replaced with a synth. This wasn't like him at all. However, there was no way that the Institute could have copied him so perfectly. I woulda noticed a difference somewhere. Maybe in his face, his voice, or even if some hairs were outta place, but he looked normal to me. But just to be sure...

"Guy, remember when we were kids? What did we use to grow at home?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I got my reasons."

"We used to grow carrots and tatoes mostly. But I think I remember us having a few corn stalks."

No, this is Guy. It's gotta be.

"So you're not going to say anything about me running for mayor?"

"Well, I support you and whatever you wanna do. Sure, this is pretty out of character for you, but I'm just glad that you're reachin' for a new goal. Knew you were gettin' bored the last few years."

"I'm glad you approve. I was afraid you'd think I was crazy."

"Oh, I still think you're crazy," I jested. "But if this is somethin' you wanna do, go for it."

"Thanks, John. It means a lot."