One Woman Army

Awakening

War. War never changes.

In the year 1945, my great-great grandfather, serving in the Army, wondered when he'd get to go home to his wife and the son he'd never seen. He got his wish when the US ended World War II by dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The World awaited Armageddon; instead, something miraculous happened. We began to use atomic energy not as a weapon, but as a nearly limitless source of power.
People enjoyed luxuries once thought the realm of science fiction. Domestic robots, fusion-powered cars, portable computers. But then, in the 21st century, people awoke from the American dream.

Years of consumption lead to shortages of every major resource. The entire world unraveled. Peace became a distant memory. It is now the year 2077. We stand on the brink of total war, and I am afraid. For myself, for my brother, for my infant nephew – because if my time in the army taught me one thing: it's that war, war never changes.

Then someone pushed the button...

Early morning sunlight tripped over the edge of the vault platform as it rose from the depths bringing me to the surface once more. I had no idea how long it's been since the bombs fell, but it felt like yesterday, the heat and force and terror washing over as I now came up the same platform I went down to escape the horror of nuclear annihilation. If the bones strewn about the mouth of the platform were any indication at all? They may have been vaporized to bone when the blast hit, but the bodies in the vault outside of the pods were bone too. Decades?

Light cascaded over the bright blue jumpsuit I wore emblazoned with the numbers 111 on the back in bright yellow, bringing color to a world fairly struggling in shades of brown and green. Gone was the once lush forests of Massachusetts around me, left only with struggling withered vegetation, but vegetation all the same. I looked in the direction of Sanctuary Hills, and there were buildings still standing. It was with a measure of trepidation that I headed down the overgrown road toward the housing area below the hill of the safety bunker known as Vault 111.

As I got closer, the houses came into view. What was once a thriving housing suburb of Concord was now a decimated ruin, the homes shells of their former selves, rusted and partially collapsed. Some houses had collapsed in on themselves completely, becoming nothing more than a pile of twisted and rusted metal amid a patch of overgrown sod and bushes. To my amazement, in front of the house my brother Nate and I lived in with his son, our Mr. Handy robot hummed away trimming away at what remained of the hedge in front of the property.

"Codsworth? You're.....still here?! That means there could be others around still as well."

The Mr. Handy robot turned it's eye stalks in my direction, the three cameras focusing on me quickly as it hovered closer on its center jet.

"As I live and Breathe! Madam! Is it really you? Of course -I'm- still here. Surely you don't think a little radiation could deter the pride of General Atomics International?"

I looked around the remains of the little suburb I once called 'home', talking outloud mostly to myself.

"My God... they did it. The bastards really did it. Everything's dead..."

"Everything's dead?" Codsworth sounded almost offended before recovering. "Ah, yes. The garden. The posies have been problematic, I admit. I must say you seem worse for wear, mum. Best not let your brother see you in that state. Where is Sir, by the way?"

Pain welled up as I thought back. The vault had, unbeknownst to us before the fact, been a cryo-facility. Some time after we were admitted, someone had come in, thawed us out, killed Nate and took his son Shawn, then refroze us. When I woke up, I was the only survivor. My hand went up to my face, as I thought of my reflection. Where once my hair had been a golden brown and my eyes hazel like my twin, now my hair was a platinum blonde and my eyes gray. It was if all the color had leaked out during my cryosleep.