Fallout 4: AR

22. Cambridge

We headed southeast from Sanctuary, following the broken road as it meandered its way across the landscape in the general direction of Boston. Garvey was sad to see us go, but reassured us we'd have a place to stay if we ever made it back that way. He was already stepping up into his new role as the General of the Minutemen, taking in more settlers and establishing Sanctuary as a protected settlement even as we crossed the bridge.

As we paced along in a companionable rapport, my mind kept wandering back to the strange conversation I had with Mama Murphy right before we left. The old seer had called us into the room where she had been staying. I don't know how, but she had secured a small stash of varying chems, drugs to help strengthen and focus her Sight. She told me, "I wanna thank ya, kid, for helping us out. You saved our lives. Now, ol' Mama Murphy is too old to be building generators or hauling water, but I can use the Sight to guide you on your way."

And before I could move, she had stabbed an injection pack that looked similar to a stimpak, but wasn't, into her arm. ("Psycho," MacCready had explained, "truly nasty stuff, lives up to its name.") Her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped alarmingly. When I would have caught her to help her sit upright, MacCready grabbed my arm to stop me, shaking his head. Then she spoke in a haunted, broken voice.

"You've got a long journey ahead to make it home, if you can." she rasped. "You need to focus... you are the focus. The aim of a terrible weapon... a beacon, a scope. The lens is the focus... guiding destruction... But the weapon, ah, the weapon!" She started to shake, sweat beading her brow. "It needs to move... it needs a tripod, a sturdy base. You have found one leg, growing in strength from flesh and bone and the heart of the people. Find the other two... tempered steel and steam-blasted iron. East... go east and south to find your goal..." With a final bone-rattling shudder, she gasped, opening her eyes. "Takes a lot outta me, kid," she had said in a weary tone. "But I hope it helps."

"What do you think she meant?" I asked MacCready for the umpteenth time as we walked along.

"Hell if I know, Boss" he said, a scowl crossing his features. "I don't know why you're giving her babbling so much credence." He was back to his usual prickly self.

"You didn't hear her in Concord. She said some things to me that no way she could have known otherwise. Made some interesting references to how I got here." I kicked a chunk of concrete. "I don't like it either, but stranger things have happened. Why not a visionary?"

"A mystic hopped up on Psycho? Come on, Boss," he whined, before a sly smile twitched his bearded face. "Well at least she won't be duping anyone else for a while," he announced, holding up the selection of chems that had been on the table beside her with a proud flourish.

"Why-? When-? How did you manage that?" I stammered, impressed beyond my annoyance at the theft.

"I have talents, Boss," he smirked, confidently. "You may be able to pick locks, but I can pick up just about anything else with no one the wiser."

I made a show of patting my pockets. "You haven't tried that on me, have you?" When he didn't reply, and turned away instead, I grew more insistent. "Have you?" No answer, but I could see the color rising in his cheeks. "All right, give it back." Whatever it is, you sneak thief.

"Fine," he groaned exaggeratedly. Stowing the chems away in his pack, he dug into his duster pocket with a resigned sigh. "Here."

"My drivers license?"

"You weren't using it."

"But- but why?"

He shrugged noncommittally, "I dunno. I thought it was neat."