It was a nightly ritual. Your grandfather would tuck you into the bunk, pull out a glossy hardcover as thick as your head, open to the page marked by the red ribbon, and tell you the adventures of Action Man. His eyes would always get a little misty when he talked about Action Man's sidekick, the buxom (a word whose meaning was lost to a seven year old's innocence) Action Girl. It was only after your grandfather died (and you finally learned to read) that you discovered the hardcover book was, in fact, a dictionary.

Your grandfather was Action Man, the stories he told you were from his own life, and your grandmother, the woman he had to leave behind to be locked away in this vault, was undoubtedly Action Girl. The stories were bursting with danger, close-shaves, and death-defying stunts, but they always ended with the refrain: It's dangerous out there Albert, and that's why we stay inside the vault. Do you understand?" And you would nod gravely, pause like you were really thinking about it, and then say, "Tell me about the sky, again, grandpa."

Twenty years have passed but your grandfather's stories remain vivid in your mind. The other vault dwellers say you've inherited your grandfather's gift of gab. No one can hold an audience captive quite like you can, and your tongue has gotten you out of more than one tricky situation (and probably gotten you into twice as many). At just twenty-seven years old, you're on track to become the youngest overseer the vault has ever seen. But the thing you want most in the world hasn't changed: you want to see the sky. You want to feel the wind. To touch the earth. You want to go outside.

And you're not alone.

"Alright, is everyone here?" asks Theresa, looking around the two dozen or so faces cramped into the storage room. "Where's Al?"

You emerge from behind a stack of boxes. "Present. Whose idea was it to meet in this dump?" You know it was Theresa's, you just like making her blush.

"We have to take the proper precautions, the overseer--"

"Probably, already knows about these little get togethers and still hasn't said anything," says Cindy. "I'm with Albert, I don't think we have to keep hiding like rats. It makes us look suspicious." A few others chime in with support, and the room quickly devolves into two camps hurling insults at each other. Theresa glares at you, then opens her palms silently toward the arguing crowd, as if to say "you broke it, you fix it."

>Double-down and side with Cindy, it's time this faction came out of the shadows
>Backtrack and admit Theresa might have a point, it doesn't hurt to be careful
>Don't pick a side, just change the subject to the real reason for the meeting: the water shortage
>Write-in