Charlie Porter brewed a hot kettle of water mixed with chaga powder, adding a sizable dollop of honey for good measure. The resulting beverage, from what she could recall from prior knowledge she received from the lessons of her childhood tutors, closely resembled the coffee and tea of the ancients. Pouring herself a cup, she sat in her radbison leather chair, lit the beeswax candle atop the desk, and began to put the nib of her green fountain pen to paper, nursing the drink all the while. At the crack of dawn she cheerily finalized the wording of the proclamation needed to annex the squatter community just outside the western reaches of Fargo's walls into the fold. For decades their inhabitants have petitioned for legal citizenship, and today they would have just that. It might be an uphill battle at first to justify the sidestep of the council's authority, but she couldn't put it off any longer. There may have been a period of time when her people could keep to themselves, but she knew with a great certainty that it had since passed. And if they fail to change with it, they too will invariably pass from the world. She applied the golden horse head seal of the Porter Family to the document as soon as she had the wax nice and melted.

A light series of knocks sounded at her office door. Charlie neatly folded the paper and got up to answer her morning caller. "Ms. Porter? Do you happen to be busy at the present moment? Captain Taylor has at last returned from his hunting expedition and is here to see you now, as you've requested."

"The both of you can come on in," Charlie replied, unbolting the door and ushering the two men into the room, "I have a need of your services this hour, Mr. Dillon, but first things first," she clasped her hands together, "I trust the remaining deathclaw nesting sites of the badlands have been wiped out, Captain?" 

"No casualties. Deathclaws predictably tried charging us when they realized where the shots were coming from. Minefields made short work of the bravest. Rest, mostly the young, broke for the open plains. I'd give the ones that managed to run our horses into the ground until winter to live." Captain Taylor said as he rummaged through his bag, producing two burlap sacks, one larger than the other, that he placed onto the desk just as Charlie went to sit back down. "Thought you might appreciate some souvenirs. I left a head with a taxidermist for stuffing and mounting, too, if you'll be interested in decor," he grinned.

Charlie put the burlap bags aside for later, failing to hide her growing smile at her friend's curious, and thoughtful gifts. She would have to return the favor when the opportunity came along to catch him pleasantly unaware with a present. "Thank you, but do please keep the other trophy you've taken. It's your kill; so it's your story to tell, not mine to appropriate. Now, you must be wondering why I brought you here, so I won't keep you in suspense any longer. Are you familiar with the KVLY-TV mast by any chance? It's a little ways north of here, halfway to Grand Forks, taller than anything you could possibly imagine."

"My father used to take me up that way when I was still fresh to the saddle. Every fall we made the trip without incident. It's beautiful, quiet country, an area where you can easily forget the apocalypse ever happened, aside from overgrown old world ruins. At least, that's how I remember it." He informed. 

"I need someone I can depend on to escort a work crew up there so we can restore the structural integrity of the facility and install some radio equipment. We'll be able to establish communications with civilizations across what's left of the Thirteen Commonwealths. Feel up for the job?" She spoke.