(Untitled)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Scritchity-scratch-scratch creeeeeeeek, goes a door in the Staff and Other Important Areas part of the bar.

A gray and black form slinks out at the creeeeeek noise and darts through the sea of patrons' ankles, tail held high and slobbery paper something-or-other clutched in his jaws. The dog- not quite two feet tall at the shoulder, somewhat

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[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The unit of measurement goes right over Ellen's head, but she nods. "I was helping a woman back home test an anti-radiation treatment, otherwise I wouldn't have sat still for anywhere near that kind of exposure," she says. "I- oh..."

She'd been about to say I have a Geiger counter built into this, but the Pip-Boy's not on her arm any more; the missing weight on her left forearm's a clear reminder of that

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"It was called the Vault-Tec Societal Preservation Project," Ellen says. "The science was sociology, if it was anything at all. They'd been commissioned to set up these environments to test conditions that might arise in the course of repopulating the planet after a nuclear war, or if a colony had to be established on Mars. Overall it was mostly just a bunch of really sick ways of messing with people, with a couple of Vaults that weren't completely horrible."

[hello_freak]

"And as such, the chance to really learn anything of real value was lost in some lunatic's deranged fantasies for his living test subjects. Glorious. And another blow is struck against proper lines of scientific enquiry."

Sincerity has morphed in to sarcasm.

"Forgive me, if it wasn't for scientific enquiry, you probably wouldn't be alive to have this discussion with me. I tend to take the subject quite seriously."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"No, it's okay," says Ellen. "My dad taught me proper respect for scientific procedure. I'm pretty sure he would've had an aneurysm if he'd ever heard about some of this stuff, and that's before the morality part comes into play."

[hello_freak]

"Morality is a stick one uses to explain such things to people whose attention spans are only long enough to retain, 'Because God says it's wrong.'"

"Ethics are a much more interesting area of inquiry, but they still bore me sooner or later. In the end, science must be avail."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen thinks, for a moment, of Vault 87, and of what Star Paladin Cross said prompted the Brotherhood's founder to throw his oath back in his government's face in those last desperate days before the war.

"I see."

[hello_freak]

His gaze moves back to her face, cool and collected.

"Don't worry, Ellen. I have no interest in driving policy. I haven't the temperament for it."

He sighs, tapping the fingers of one hand on his leg, restless again.

"So you're here for the duration of your recovery?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Fair enough," Ellen says, "and... yes, probably. Although I came here by mistake, so there's an infirmary on the other side of my door, too. I could probably go back there if I had to and still get good treatment from the autodoc."

At least she hopes she could. Seriously, who uses a Mr. Gutsy as a doctor?

[hello_freak]

"Autodoc?"

Another crumb of information.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"A robot doing the basics of a physician's job. Usually they're just used for surgical procedures, problems that can be resolved with injections, and assisting women who need medical assistance to have children." Ellen shrugs. "I'm guessing this one was some kind of emergency measure. The Brotherhood doesn't strike me as the sort of people to have that many soldiers in one place and no human doctors."

(Guess who forgot that her conversational partner has no idea who the Brotherhood is or where she came in from.)

[hello_freak]

More rapid blinking.

Sherlock rearranges his long legs, and leans forward, elbow on his knee.

"Brotherhood."

One can see this interrogation continuing for hours in this vein.