New Vegas: Sheason's Story

Hey, hey! It's Mr. New Vegas letting you know that I've got a new Christmas compilation coming out late next month: Nuclear Winter Wonderland! Look for it on holotape. You're all so great that I'm going to keep every one of you listening all night. This next classic song is a special request from one of my loyal listeners, to remind everyone to keep dreaming and hoping, even when the Wasteland wants to bring you down. It's the incomparable Louis Armstrong with A Kiss To Build A Dream On.

By the time I pulled the Corvega to a stop outside the Lucky 38, the Med-X had worn off. I was in a lot of pain, but not as much as before the stimpack had mended my wounds, and not so much that I couldn't just power through it. I wasn't going to take another Med-X. I didn't need my mind dulled and clouded with painkillers.

The steps leading to the Lucky 38's front doors were illuminated with underlit neon chaser lights, and painted in a red and black pattern, mimicking the colors of a roulette wheel. The doors were massive, made out of some kind of thick metal, and emblazoned with a red and black diamond motif. A single Securitron stood vigil in front of the door. As I approached, I could see that it was, of course, Victor.

"Well howdy, pardner!" The robot exclaimed to me as I approached. "Good to see ya again. Boss is waiting for ya upstairs, so get a move on!"

I nodded, my hand never leaving the Platinum Chip in my left pants pocket. With a shudder, the massive metal doors began to slide open. The ground rumbled as they moved, as if the doors were so heavy that even the machinery used to move them had to strain to pull them apart… or maybe they'd nearly rusted shut. Beyond the large doors was a small atrium with the logo of the Lucky 38 painted on the floor, and another smaller set of glass doors that led into the casino.

"Enjoy your stay," Victor said. My companions and I passed him, and entered into the Lucky 38.

A blast of frigid, stale air hit me in the face when I opened the door. It was a shock, let me tell you – The Tops had air conditioning, but this felt like we were walking into a freezer. The quality of the air wasn't much better. It tasted like the same air had been recycled for 200 years. And, if what Boone told me was true, it probably had been. Once I got over the shock, I looked around the casino, trying to gain stock of my surrounding. All around were dusty slot machines, empty blackjack tables, empty roulette tables, empty craps tables… and everything, from the walls, to the floors, to the chairs, to every single gambling implement had the same red and black roulette motif. Ahead of me in the center of the casino floor was an elevator, flanked by two unmoving Securitrons. The interior was deathly quiet; even the sounds of our footsteps seemed muffled. This wasn't a casino… it felt like a tomb.

When I approached the elevator, the doors slid open silently, revealing a Securitron inside. It was Victor again. Of course it was Victor. His ability to hop between Securitrons was certainly getting a lot of mileage.

"Howdy, friend," Victor said from inside the elevator. "C'mon in, I'll take you to see the big boss. Only, there's a bit of a hitch." Oh, what now, I thought. "The boss will talk to you up on the penthouse floor, but only to you. All your compadre's will have to wait down here."

I turned back to my friends, and was about to ask if they'd be ok with waiting when I heard a voice yell off to the side, from somewhere else in the casino. I looked around, trying to spot where the voice came from, my eyes falling on one of the bars that ringed the edges of the casino.

"Hot damn!" Cass said, popping up from behind the bar. She held a very dusty bottle of booze in her hand. She blew on it, and dust flew everywhere. "Guys! Y'gotta take a lookit this! Th' hooch! It's… it's beautiful!" She cradled the bottle of alcohol to her cheek, with the silliest grin I'd ever seen on anyone spread across her face. I turned back to Veronica, Boone, and ED-E. ED-E beeped, flying to Cass, and Boone merely shook his head.

"I think we'll be fine," Veronica said, giving me a wave and following ED-E. "Don't worry, we'll wait for you."

With a sigh, I walked into the elevator, staying as far away from Victor as the metal box would allow. The doors slid closed almost soundlessly, and when the elevator started to rumble up, I leaned against the wall. I was thoroughly exhausted, both mentally and physically with everything that had happened today: super mutants, ghouls blasting off into space, watching the Great Khans get slaughtered, talking to a psychic child, finding Cass' caravan, and bringing an end to the man who'd started all this nonsense. All I really wanted to do was go back to my car and just fall asleep for 20 hours. Instead, I continued to lean against the wall, coughed so hard it felt like I was about to hack up a lung, and rubbed my left knee. The stimpack had healed me enough so that the skin, muscle, and whatever my kneecap was made out of had grown back, but I'm pretty sure I had a bullet lodged in my leg somewhere, so it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

"You doin' all right there, pardner?" Victor asked. What a stupid question. "You look right banged up."

"I've had worse," I said, straightening up and trying not to cough. I thought about it, and then said with a smile "I mean, hell, you should know. You dug me up from worse." Victor let out a mechanical chuckle that was both amusing and deeply unpleasant to listen to at the same time. The elevator glided to a halt, and the doors slid open with a "ding!"

"Penthouse floor!" Victor said, following me out of the elevator. As soon as I stepped foot out of the elevator, two Securitrons rolled towards us. Their face monitors were faces of cartoon women: one had dark hair with a flower in it, and the other was a platinum blonde with a beauty mark above her mouth. The blonde spoke up first.

"Victor!" the synthetic and very artificial female voice said. "It's so nice of you to come and visit us. I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Howdy, ladies," Victor said, making that same if-he-had-an-actual-hat-he'd-be-tipping-it motion I'd seen him use earlier in Novac. "Always a pleasure."

"Oh, who is this?" the brunette spoke up in a similar voice, approaching me. "Victor, I didn't know you were going to bring company."

"Jane," the Securitron with the blonde face turned to the other one, trying to whisper conspiratorially. It didn't really work. I was pretty sure their speakers couldn't adjust the volume. "I think this is that courier Robert has been talking about."

"Oh my! I think you're right Marilyn!" the brunette (Jane, apparently) waved me into a nearby doorway. "Well, if that's who you are, then you shouldn't be wasting any more time talking with us, sugar! Mr. House is waiting for you in his office."

I had a sneaking suspicion I knew exactly what Marilyn and Jane were, and I didn't want to think about the implications. So, shaking my head, I left behind Victor, Marilyn, and Jane, and entered the office of Mr. House. Based on the shape of the windows, and curve to the outer walls, I guessed that I was standing in the topmost level of the Lucky 38. The lights from Vegas spilled through the windows, but only barely; we were so high up, it was almost like the light was having trouble reaching us. At least four more Securitrons stood guard in the room, and at the bottom of a curved staircase (which was mimicked on the other side of the room) was a very large, and seemingly very advanced, computer setup. This wasn't like the small two-toned computer terminals that were so common everywhere; this was a massive monitor, surrounded by many smaller monitors, sitting atop what was apparently a mainframe. Two of the Securitrons in the room flanked the computer on either side.

"Hello?" I called out when I reached the bottom of the stairs. "Mr. House?" The monitor clicked on with an audible buzz. Looking down at me from the largest monitor was the face of a man. His dark hair was impeccably styled, parted slightly off center, and he had a thin, expertly groomed moustache on a face which was both tremendously old, carrying a wisdom only attained from years, but which still somehow radiated youth at the same time. One eyebrow was raised just slightly, and the edges of his mouth carried the slightest hint of an incredible smugness. His expression was that of someone who knew more than you, but more than that, he was absolutely aware of how much smarter than you he was. It was the expression of a man who was smarter than the rest of the world, and more than that, he could actually prove it.

"You've been a busy courier, haven't you?" he spoke in an old world accent. "You take your obligation to deliver a package very seriously – an ethic for which I am grateful."

"You must be Mr. House. I thought we'd be meeting in person?" I asked. In truth, I figured someone as powerful as House was supposed to be would communicate through several levels of separation. But no harm in asking, right?

"This is as close as we'll ever meet, Mr. Fisher. You should be more grateful – this is the closest anyone has ever gotten to me in 200 years." He paused, apparently to let that sink in, and then continued. "I will admit, when you ignored my invitation, I predicted… negative outcomes. But… you have a way of exceeding expectations, don't you?" He sounded impossibly pleased with himself.

"Well, they call me the courier," I said with a shrug. "What kind of a courier would I be if I couldn't deliver a package this small?" House let out a chuckle.

"Quite," House chuckled. "Well, enough. Let's have the Chip, then."

I pulled the Platinum Chip out of my pocket, and twirled it around my fingers.

"There's just one thing we have to discuss before I deliver this, Mr. House," I said, looking back to the face on the screen.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Payment," I said simply. "250 caps was a fine price when I didn't know what I was carrying. But I died for this, and tracked a man halfway across the Mojave to retrieve it. So I think I deserve a bit of a bonus. Hazard pay, don't you agree?" I smirked.

"Fine," House said. His tone of voice seemed to indicate that he expected this. "Give me the Chip, and I'll pay you four times the delivery bonus stipulated in your contract." I smiled up at the screen, fighting back the urge to wince as a fresh lance of pain shot up my knee.

"1000 caps? It's a great start… but well below market price," I twirled the Platinum Chip around my fingers. "I'm not stupid, and it doesn't take a genius to realize there's more to this Chip than just a novelty or nostalgia on your part. I know this Chip is important – not just to you, but to who knows how many other people? If it wasn't, Benny wouldn't have shot me for it." I tried to remain as vague as possible. For some reason, I felt that mentioning Yes Man would be a bad move. Yes Man and I had actually talked for a considerable length before I returned to the main casino floor of The Tops, and one of the things the robot had said stuck out in my mind:

"Did you know that Mr. House spent 812,545 caps hiring salvage teams to find the Platinum Chip – just in the last year alone? Of course you didn't!"

"Very well," House stated simply. "Five times your delivery bonus, but not one cap more." As he spoke, one of the Securitrons flanking the monitor rolled up to me. A small panel on its chassis opened, and it produced several stacks of bottlecaps, which it handed to me. If they were kept in groups of 20 like I thought they were, it was easily 1250 caps. I smiled up at the screen, and handed the Securitron the Platinum Chip.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. House."

"Such a small thing, isn't it? And yet, so… capacious. So very dear." House said. The Securitron moved to the mainframe below the monitor, and placed the Platinum Chip in a slot directly under the monitor. The Chip slid into the computer with a mechanical whir.

"Decades of hiring salvagers out west to search for this little relic in the ruins of a place called Sunnyvale… back then, at least." I tried to keep my face expressionless. He continued. "That's where the Chip was printed, on October 22, 2077. It was to have been hand-delivered to me here, at the Lucky 38, the next day. But the bombs fell first. Suffice it to say, the delivery was never made."

"So… What happens now?" I asked. Curiosity had overtaken me, and despite the exhaustion, I still felt a little curious as to what the Chip was actually supposed to do.

"A great deal shall be happening – a cascade of events, with you taking a central role."

"Me? Why me? I'm just a courier."

"You give yourself too little credit, Mr. Fisher," House said. "You've already proven that you are much, much more capable than a mere courier. And I am in need of someone as capable and resourceful as you have proven to be. At the moment, however, all you need to do is take the elevator all the way down to the bottom level. I'm sure you'll understand soon enough…"

I was expecting to see a great many things once I got off the elevator and arrived down in the basement of the Lucky 38. But a weapons demonstration wasn't one of them.

Yes Man was right – the Platinum Chip was a data storage device, sort of like a holotape. Apparently what it contained was an operating system that House had designed before the war, something that would affect every single piece of RobCo technology it was installed on… somehow. I'll be honest, the details were a bit lost on me. Maybe that's why House brought me to the basement – so I could fully appreciate what it could do, especially to the Securitrons. Or maybe he just wanted to gloat to someone that wasn't a robot about how smart he was.

"Trips to the basement are rarely so educational, wouldn't you agree?" House said as I walked back down the stairs from the elevator. I couldn't help but notice that the Securitrons in this room were upgraded, same as the ones in the basement: their face-screens were no longer policemen, instead looking like lantern-jawed soldiers in an old world war movie, complete with helmet, cigar, and stubble. And if they were upgraded, it meant they could use all the weapons I'd seen the others in the basement use: each Securitron had a 9mm submachine gun, a Gatling laser, a rapid fire grenade machine gun, and missile launchers mounted on either side of their face screens.

And there were four of them in the room with me. I didn't know whether to be comforted by the security their firepower would offer, or terrified out of my mind by the sheer overkill in the room with me.

"I've since broadcast the upgrade to every Securitron in range of my transmitters," House said smugly. "I must say… it's causing quite the stir down on The Strip."

"Ok, hang on," I finally said. "Before we go any further, there's one thing that's been annoying the hell out of me. The Platinum Chip is like a really advanced holotape, which allowed you to upgrade… everything, I guess, right?"

"It does much more than that, but yes… that is what it's done so far."

"Why a poker chip?" I asked.

"Because it amused me." I just stared at him, dumbfounded, and he continued. "Before the bombs fell, I'd created the concept of data chips using the resources from my company, RobCo, as a means of replacing the hideously outdated holotapes."

"Your company?"

"Yes. RobCo. Robert House's Company. What did you think it meant? Robot Company? Either way, I designed the 'data chips' to look like casino chips as… a bit of a joke. I enjoyed the idea of people gambling with the data they would store. What the data chips looked like would indicate how much data they were capable of storing. There were going to be brass chips, iron chips, bronze chips, silver chips, gold chips… but there was only ever going to be one Platinum Chip. That Chip contained the ability to store more data than all the other chips combined, and nearly all the space was taken up by the operating system I designed. A truly staggering feat of computer programming on my part, dwarfed only by the engineering marvel that makes the Platinum Chip light years ahead of any technology before or since… if I do say so myself."

"Ok…" I nodded. House seemed to love to hear himself talk. "So why show your hand, upgrading all the Securitrons like that? Those faces aren't exactly subtle, and it won't take them firing off rockets for the NCR to suspect something." House merely chuckled softly, as if I'd told him an amusing joke that wasn't really worthy of a real laugh.

"I'm surprised you can still underestimate me after everything you've seen. I haven't shown my hand – I've shown one card. I've given my enemies – not just the NCR, but everyone who would threaten the security of my city – a single, provocative datum upon which to fixate. They have no idea what other cards I'm holding. It's a strong hand, believe me… I dealt it to myself." Even though his face remained static and unmoving, I could almost hear the hint of a smile in his voice.

"I'm not underestimating you, I'm just…" he allowed me the time to search for the right words. "To be blunt, I'm trying to figure you out. I mean, so far as I've been able to see, you're just an unmoving face on a screen. For all I know, you're just some kind of super-advanced pre-war artificial intelligence. Hell, I've seen weirder things in this wild wasteland. I mean, you haven't even asked about what went down at The Tops."

"I can assure you," House said, in the tone of voice an adult would adopt when speaking to an ignorant child. "I am not an artificial intelligence. I'm much smarter than a ZAX mainframe, for one thing. No, the reason I haven't asked about what became of Benny is that he ceased to be relevant when you recovered the Platinum Chip. Revenge doesn't interest me, progress does. Sorry to deny you a moment of primate triumph, but you'll have to go elsewhere to sound your barbaric yawp."

"No need to sling insults to prove you're not an AI, House," I said, narrowing my eyes at the monitor. "And that's not what I meant."

"Oh?" He sounded legitimately surprised.

"Yeah, I killed Benny – but I also shot up one of your casinos. Killed who knows how many of your employees as well. The fact that you don't seem at all concerned about that strikes me as a bit odd, that's all."

"I see. You're much more perceptive than you look. I'll grant you that much, Mr. Fisher. And while it's true The Tops was one of my biggest earners… the loss of income will be negligible - less than a 3% drop in overall revenue, if my calculations are correct. And my calculations are always correct. There are other casinos that will be more than capable of picking up the slack, while I keep The Tops closed to the general public. I've been meaning to renovate that old casino ever since the top three floors caved in, but I suppose it will have to wait until after the inevitable conflict between the NCR and Caesar's Legion. As for the Chairmen…" he paused, and when he spoke again, his words carried an ominous weight. "Everyone that you killed can be replaced."

I thought about what he said – the 'inevitable' conflict between the NCR and Caesar's Legion. And that was when I took a stab at what he was planning.

"Do you really think your Securitrons will be able to beat back the NCR, and Caesar's Legion, and whoever else wants Vegas?"

"Why would I go to war against the NCR?" he sounded almost insulted. "They're my best customers. If their leaders weren't scheming to steal Vegas out from under me, I would have no troubles with the so-called New California Republic at all. The salient issue is that they would go to war with me. And in order to secure the future of New Vegas, I must have your assistance. The work ahead will be dangerous, but you've already proven quite handily that you weather danger well."

"I'm listening."

"I've resurrected Vegas, spirit intact, just as I saved it so many years ago. What I need now is the ability to enforce my rightful claim – to protect my city. To enforce, one must have force: a position of strength. Years ago, when I detected NCR scouts roaming the Mojave, I could tell from their uniforms that these were no mere tribesmen. I knew it was only a matter of time before an army appeared, to take control of Hoover Dam. And I knew my Securitrons wouldn't be enough to oppose them. That is why I recruited the Three Families. The city of New Vegas is mine, and all of it belongs to me because I mustered enough strength to bring the NCR to the bargaining table."

"But even with the Three Families, wasn't the NCR's army big enough to defeat you?"

"Indeed it was – and still is - but not without taking significant casualties. Would President Kimball and General Oliver have traded the lives of hundreds of soldiers for absolute control of Hoover Dam? Oh yes," he chuckled. "But then, they weren't afraid of me. They were afraid of Caesar. They were afraid that attacking me would leave them vulnerable to a Legion offensive. And so… they negotiated. Not out of the kindness of their hearts, as they try to make it seem, but because the calculus of power left them no other choice. Caesar's Legion is the only reason the NCR hasn't contrived some outrage to justify invading the Strip. The final battle between those two armies is fast approaching. Every calculation I've run confirms it, just as I predicted the Great War 200 years ago. And I can't afford to let either side win on their terms."

"Wait, back up – you predicted the war that blasted us back to the Stone Age?" For some reason, that news shocked me.

"Of course I did," he said with a level of smugness that was almost palpable. "By 2065, I deemed it a mathematical certainty that an atomic war would devastate the Earth within 12 years. Every projection I ran confirmed it. I knew I couldn't 'save the world,' nor did I care to. But I could save Vegas… my home… and in the process, perhaps I could save mankind. I set to work immediately. I thought I had plenty of time to prepare. But as it turned out, I was 20 hours short. On the day of the Great War, 77 atomic warheads targeted Las Vegas and its surrounding areas. Part of me wants to think they were targeting me specifically, but more likely the warheads were intended for the destruction of Nellis Air Force Base, even though it bruises my ego to admit it. The networked mainframes in the Lucky 38 were able to intercept and force-transmit disarm codes to 59 warheads, neutralizing them before impact. The laser cannons mounted on the roof of this very hotel destroyed another 9 warheads. The rest got through, though none hit the city itself." He sighed. "It was a sub-optimal performance, admittedly. If only the Platinum Chip had arrived a day sooner…" he said, his voice filled with self incrimination.

I was staring up at the monitor in awe. And for the first time, I knew exactly why House spoke as though he was smarter than everyone else. If it was true, then this story about how he saved Vegas from utter annihilation spoke volumes about his ability to prepare, predict, and manipulate the world around him – and he considered it a failure.

"Given that I had to make do with buggy software, the outcome could have been worse," he admitted eventually. "I nearly died as it was. Software glitches set off a cascade of system crashes. I had to take the Lucky 38's reactor offline, lest it melt down. For nearly five years, I battled power outages and more system crashes until I finally managed to reboot the data core with an older version of the operating system. I spent nearly four decades in a veritable coma. But I survived, obviously, and eventually thrived. But enough talk, reliving the past. It's time to talk about the mission." I cocked an eyebrow.

"It's a mission, now?"

"You can call it a 'job,' if it makes you feel more comfortable. Either way, the next step will require you to infiltrate Caesar's Camp at Fortification Hill." I was instantly reminded of something Yes Man had told me:

"There are two locations with non-standard hardware on Mr. House's network – the Lucky 38 and an underground facility at Fortification Hill, on the Arizona side of Hoover Dam. I'd look there!"

"You want me to infiltrate Caesar's Camp." I said, trying to parse his request in my head by repeating it to myself. "Ignoring, for the moment, the utter insanity of trying to sneak into what I can only assume is the heavily fortified base of the biggest slaver army anyone in the wasteland has ever seen, what do you want me to do when I get there?"

"There's a hatch in the basement of a derelict weather station atop Fortification Hill. I want you to go there, open it, and head inside. You'll recognize it immediately. The hatch bears the logo of the Lucky 38, same as the Platinum Chip."

"What's inside the hatch?"

"Something very important," he said, and I swear, I could almost hear him grinning again. "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. You'll find out when you get there."

"So how do I open the hatch? I assume it's going to be more complicated than prying it open with a crowbar, or trying to blast it open with some explosives."

"You won't be able to open it," he said simply. "The hatch was designed using… appropriated Vault-Tec designs. Nothing short of a direct hit from a 30-megaton nuclear bomb would so much as chip the paint."

"But, you just -" House cut me off before I could finish.

"The Chip can open the doors, however. There is a slot designed for data chips next to the hatch. It will recognize the Platinum Chip and 'open sesame."

"One more question. Assuming I can even get to Fortification Hill, assuming I can get past Caesar and the rest of his army, and assuming the Chip will do what it's supposed to, and open the doors…" I paused. "What's my stake in all this?"

"I'm not offering you an incentive as crude as money, although there will be plenty of that, I can assure you. What I'm offering you is a ground-floor opportunity in the most important enterprise on Earth. What I'm offering… is a future. For you, and for what remains of the human race."

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open soundlessly as I returned to the casino floor of the Lucky 38. Immediately, I heard the sounds of laughing and shouting and a robot beeping.

"I don't get it!" I heard Boone raise his voice – the first time I'd ever heard him speak above a growl – when I approached the bar. "How can someone be THAT good at Caravan?" Veronica and Cass were laughing from behind the bar, and Boone was sitting across from them on a bar stool, his rifle leaned against the seat next to him. ED-E was floating around above them.

"What c'n I say, Imma caravan boss! Y'gotta be good at cards!" Cass thumped her chest with a fist proudly, her cheeks positively flush with red. Several empty bottles and overturned shot glasses were lined up on the bar next to her.

"Hey, there y'are!" Veronica said with a slight slur. "We were startin' to wonder where you'd gotten off to!"

"What are you guys doing?" I sat down on a seat next to Boone.

"Drunken Caravan!" Cass exclaimed proudly, pulling out a fresh bottle of vodka. "Winner takes a shot! An' I've been winnin' since y'left!" Boone shook his head and sighed, turning to me.

"So. What's the plan?" He asked, tossing his cards aside.

"That's right!" Veronica exclaimed, pouring a glass of bourbon. "How'd your talk with House go? Find out anything interesting?" She handed me the drink. I declined.

"You could say that…" I pulled out the stacks of caps, placing them on the bar. Everyone fell silent at the money in front of us all. "House has offered me a job. And if the rest of you want to keep traveling with me, that offer extends to all of you as well. He didn't give me too many specifics, but…" Before I could finish, Boone chimed up.

"I'm in," was all he said.

"Me too," Veronica said, raising the glass of bourbon in my general direction, taking a drink. "It's been fun so far! Whatever y'have in mind should be a blast!" When Veronica was finished, Cass looked at me with a smile, and a look of fierce determination that shone through her drunken haze.

"Y'know y'can count on me," she said, grasping my hand tightly. "This caravan ain't done travelin' yet…"