Samuel Tannin

November 29, 2287 – Nick and I made a right turn in the courtyard after emerging from the early morning bustle of Diamond City. We headed north through the passage in the wall of scaffolding that served as a security checkpoint against the Super Mutant compound that had established a hold on the neighborhood just up the street. But it wasn’t the Super Mutants that the Diamond City security guard warned us about as we passed through and entered the Commonwealth’s crumbling streets.

“Feral Ghouls like to hide in the dark. Makes night patrol a real frightfest,” he noted. I hadn’t seen many feral ghouls wandering around within the city limits, they were mostly in the outskirts, or down in the subway tunnels. Still, I took the words to heart, considering it a reminder that we were no longer under the protection of Fenway security.

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November 28, 2287 – If you stay in one location in your life for a long while, your time in that place becomes defined by moments that poke through the fabric of your daily reality. Like the time the rainbow colored hot air balloon landed on the eastern shoreline of Misty Lake opposite Sanctuary Hills. It was one of the first warm weekends of spring, and everyone came out of their houses to watch the spectacle and visit after not having seen one another through much of the winter. A man and his wife had traveled all the way down from Rutland, Vermont in a new style of balloon they had invented. Beneath it, suspended by a heavyweight four-point harness, instead of a basket, was a small shed made of some lightweight material.

Then another time Nora and I were out in our backyard one fall night just after dark, cleaning up after a get together, when a hot white light rose up over the hill behind our house where they ended up putting the vault. Nora noticed it first. It just stayed in place – a totally steady light hovering. When she called me over and I looked at it, I thought maybe it was a planet, but she insisted it was much closer than I thought it was. After my eyes adjusted to the darkness a bit more, I realized that yes, it was right in front of us, not far in the sky. Just as I began to get a grip on exactly where it was, it started moving toward us, totally silent. We watched in amazement as it floated above us and over the house, making no noise at all as it went. I still couldn’t get a read on how high up it was, but it was just the strangest thing.

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November 27, 2287 – As Ada and I approached the edge of the Glowing Sea, back to what I’d say was the proper Commonwealth, the sun had started to emerge over a hill toward the eastern horizon. An irradiated pond in the valley before me increasingly mirrored the oranges of morning, and I felt a building but unexpected sensation of contentment wash over me – a kind of peace I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. I was reminded of a morning when I was a child. In fact, maybe I had visited this place before, because something about the row of trees way beyond and the way they meandered about the other side of the pond struck me. My mom and dad were there, the weather was sharp, with a cool breeze winding past us, the smell of lilacs in the air. It’s funny how the smell of a flower you haven’t smelled in a couple decades – well, longer if you think about it – how it can come back to you and you know instantly what it is.

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November 25, 2287 – At the beginning of this diary, I remember writing something about how my memory couldn’t be trusted. That’s certainly true, but I feel I owe anyone reading this – or listening to it – an explanation of where I am now, and what’s going on, so I’m going to try my best to go over everything that’s happened since I left Covenant. It’s only been nine days, but for some reason it feels like nine months. That memory thing again. Maybe it plays with time as well as recall.

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