November 10, 2287 – Aside from my lengthy nap in the crashed military tank I had stumbled upon in the wasteland just north of Fort Hagan, I had pretty much been going full tilt since Nick and I had started tracking down Kellogg. That kind of schedule was probably fine for Nick, being a synth and all, but when I had first arrived at the Red Rocket, I don’t even think I had realized how exhausted I was. The power armor I had discovered in a Fort Hagen barn had helped make it a little easier to get home, despite being wounded from the shrapnel in the proximity mine explosion near the tank, but now that I had a chance to sort of catch my breath, it was clear that I didn’t have the kind of energy I was going to need in order to break into the Institute. That is if I could even find it.
November 8, 2287 – After rejoining with Dogmeat, and having just seen the Brotherhood of Steel’s mammoth airship sailing out over the Commonwealth, I was wondering if I should reconsider my plan to head north to Sanctuary Hills and resupply, or if I should just make my way back to Diamond City now. I had no idea what the Brotherhood was planning. The announcement over the ship’s loudspeaker that had rained down on all of Fort Hagen had merely said “do not interfere,” and that the Brotherhood’s intentions were peaceful. I supposed that was yet to be determined. Maybe Preston had been right about the Brotherhood when he had mentioned he expected them to make a power grab at some point. I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t my job to save the Commonwealth, and that this really was none of my business. There wasn’t much one man could do about whatever was going on anyway. The best thing I could do is take care of myself, and continue my mission to find Shaun.
November 7, 2287 – Nick Valentine, Dogmeat and I walked along the road that led between the mammoth support pillars that were giving their best try at supporting the remains of a crumbling highway overpass. This was the same highway that used to run from parts north, past Bedford Station, and all the way down to the Mass Pike Interchange before continuing on to Natick. I wondered if the technology existed any more to create massive structures such as these. There seemed to be certain kinds of tech still available today. I was walking with a robot that could almost pass for a human, were it not for the torn parts of skinlike wrapping revealing the workings of the machinery behind his face. And just a few yards behind us was the torn-apart remains of what appeared to be a lean and powerful military-type humanoid robot, most likely also from this “Institute,” that had thrown a good scare into just about everyone at Diamond City and from which my traveling companion had been unceremoniously discarded.
November 7, 2287 – It felt like I had only just shut my eyes, when there was a knock at my door at the Dugout Inn. Bleary-eyed and groggy, I opened it, and was instantly knocked down by an over-enthusiastic Dogmeat, who proceeded to lick my face relentlessly. I looked up, and Nick Valentine was standing in the doorway, chuckling. “Looks like you found a friend,” he noted.