Quoted By:
[Good Morning America, I am free from corporate crunch hell. As such we will be returning to our regular broadcasting.]
There was a lot you wanted to do, a lot you needed to do over the next coming months, but you still needed to set aside some time to talk with the other members of the cell. The Last year two years have been a whirlwind of events. It'll do you well to just talk with some people and take a breath of fresh air... well whatever qualifies for fresh in the wasteland.
Still there were matters regarding the exodus that concerned you, but you wanted to get a feel for the matters before proposing any plans or calling a strategic meeting. You head down to your Father's Study, a place of retreat, one both of you had made use of in the past has basically become the distant cousin to the oval office here in California. It's where he does and takes most of his work and meetings at this point. You have to say the last few months have aged him quite a bit, you knew the stress of leadership was heavy having been responsible for the lives of your squad, but you see that it bears extra wait when you're in charge of an entire community.
You may not necessarily come to exact terms or agreement with how the Enclave is run at this moment, but you find it difficult to not respect the sheer magnitude of the task and your Father's earnest devotion to it. It wasn't but a few years prior that you had wondered whether or not your Father was just about ready to settle for his lot in life in the wasteland. The Fight was all but gone from him, your mother the only thing that was managing to stoke the flames with her firebrand preaching of old Enclave dogma.
He sat there his greying hair as he went over report after report, a huge map splayed over his table, coffee or what passed as coffee in a glass to the side of the map. His eyes were heavy, the computer screen illuminating the room with a pale green pallor that contrasted the bright florescent lights that were overhead. He grumbled to himself taking a sip of the drink on the table before noticing you at the door.
Didn't have the manpower for a secretary, and Mom was too busy handling tasks delegated to her to be both the first lady and the Vice President, so she was mostly just the Vice President.
He looks up at you, "Son, what do you need? I'm rather busy at the moment." he says not even gesturing to the mess of work that had become his study.
You step inside looking at the chair across from his own and he nods and you sit.
Clearing your throat, "I wanted to discuss the logistics of the exodus with you as well as a few operations that might help in securing some of those resources."
He takes a deep breath, "You, Nelson and Rockefeller each. I should bless my stars that I have such dedicated subordinates in this matter, but I find myself continually harried over the matter." He coughs, "Doesn't matter, go on what are your suggestions?"
[continue]
