[color=00aeef][b]Thomas Milburn, Lucky 38 Penthouse Floor[/b][/color]

[i]Mr. House faintly chuckled behind the monitor. “If such a thing… ‘face-to-face’… was possible, I would have preferred it. A meeting of old-world minds such as this has more bearing on the world than the middling, short-minded ones below could possibly know. But this is the best I can do.”[/i]

“Ah, understood,” Thomas said simply, knowing his guess of House’s biological condition was likely on the mark. He decided not to pry further, not unless Robert wished to speak more himself, and gladly took the glass of champagne offered to him by Jane.

[i]“Step out to the windows, Thomas, and take a look.” The lights of New Vegas, from the highest precipice, were exhilarating and blinding to behold from above. “This is what happened to me. I’ve stayed breathing through the centuries to create this.”[/i]

Thomas stepped up and took a sip of the champagne, savoring its taste as he observed the New Vegas strip from a vantage point few had ever seen.
 
[i]“You might ask – what was the use of wiping the dust off what many consider to be a relic of old-world vice…but you were a bright contemporary of mine. I am sure that you’ll come to the same conclusion as I have. For you to have gone for centuries unnoticed—and I do mean completely unnoticed—shows a difference in stroke. I will be the first to admit that I am far less subtle. This city is the greatest forge of wealth that has ever existed in this new world.”[/i]

[i]“Your means of longevity, unless my terminal eye is mistaken, is unbelievable. I will put aside my pride for but a moment and admit that it outclasses even mine. Whatever you are building for yourself…between this, between -teleportation- of all discoveries…it is impressive. It is on coincidentally perfect time that our worlds have discovered one another.” He chuckled. “And I see that you have brought someone else to my home, as well. An -Irish- woman, from the looks of it. My curiosities aside, I do hope that she is finding everything to her liking as well. You will be in possession of the most lavish accommodations in New Vegas during your stay, I can assure you.”
[/i]

“I assure you we both are,” Thomas smiled, “It was nice to come here and travel back in time, if even for a little while. Despite my appearance, my means of survival has been no less traumatizing I assure you. I needed this. A final, quaint, reminiscence before those memories are lost forever. I know we may disagree on many things Robert, I know in the past we had our differences...I distinctly remember many a heated discussion cascading down the halls of engineering lab. But perhaps we can agree to work together once again...it would be a fine thing to have my old colleague back. Just like the old days...”

Thomas turned back to the monitor, swirling the glass around and allowing himself to let his thoughts flow freely,

“The Institute, our Institute Robert, has made strides in technological advancement that most could only dream about. My predecessors to the Directorship, including my own son, believed that the advancements we made put us above the surface world and those that inhabited it. They espoused the notion that The Institute should stay hidden away, and safeguard its secrets carefully like a locked treasure box. Initially I came believed that myself. From the moment I stepped out of that Vault, I hated the surface and the world it represented. All of my memories, and all of my loved ones cherished and held dear: long dead and gone, and the remnants of the world I used to know treated like nothing more than trash and the odd curiosity to line some vulture scavengers pockets. It disgusted me. More than that it enraged me. From that moment forward, I resolved to focus on The Institute and safeguard mankind’s future there, leaving the surface to rot in its own ignorance and filth. What need would I have to try and wallow through such degeneracy? Why should I care for those that disgraced the world I once knew? I was such a fool then….too in love with the past to see the way forward.”

“But then a curious thing happened. The Brotherhood’s assault on Boston made The Institute realize that we could not remain blind to the surface and the threats it posed. So as I extended our eyes and ears, to observe far more than just The Commonwealth and the surrounding area: I came to learn more and more about what was up there. Rumors of great nations and sprawling cities: places with civilization and technological advancements that held the spark of the old world.”

“And then I heard talk of your great conference” Thomas smiled, “Your survival alone was a surprise to me, and I knew that perhaps if anyone could help me to navigate this new horrifying world. It would be you. And so I sent those spies to observe, to see if you and others might have been able to rise above what I’d thought was a quagmire of stagnation, and I was not disappointed.”

Thomas took another sip of his champagne, and stared out the windows of the Lucky 38 towards the lights and sounds of the strip below, and the signs of industry flourishing in the Mojave. He took in a deep breath and exhaled, as if drinking in the distilled essence of a time long gone, but yet recreated exquisitely before him. He wished he could bottle it and preserve it, but he knew that would solve nothing. He’d just remain as he had been: lost in the past, a man out of time. Unable to move forward.

“And then I knew I’d made a mistake. The wasteland was not beyond saving. It hadn’t neglected the past…quite the contrary...it was trying desperately to hold on to it. Just as I was. Each group I saw did this in their own way of course.  The NCR and Texas look to the country we once knew for their law and governance. Other groups hold to more archaic notions, like The Commonwealth or this ‘Caesar’s Legion’: trying to find meaning and worth in civilizations even older than our own. The Brotherhood, well they look to the past in other ways don’t they? Hoarding technology and believing themselves the arbiters of all...unwilling to let others do what needs to be done. Stifling progress because they fear what that entails. And you...you my dear friend, you and I suffer from the same condition. We look to the past with nostalgia, and try to surround ourselves with things that remind us of the men we used to be. Of the lives we used to have. But we must force ourselves to leave that past behind, to realize that it can dictate our future. We saw the world that came before, and more importantly, know its failures. We can lead the world to a new and brighter future, and eradicate the mistakes of the past forever.”

“Perhaps we can achieve that,” Thomas finished with a grin, “Forging a new world….a better one. That is what I plan to do my friend, that is what I believe my purpose has now become. And I’ll see it through. But The Institute, as it is now, can’t do it alone. I need allies in this world that might share our goals for a new tomorrow….and desire the destruction of those that would hold us back.” 

“So I came to you, personally to ask you one question: will you help me Robert?” His eyes fell on the monitor, waiting for his old friends response. 

[color=00aeef][b]The Institute, Lower Levels[/b][/color]

The elevator door to the Institute’s newly constructed lower levels opened to a massive darkened storage room, the only lights visible were those closest to the elevator itself. Max Loken and Alan Binet stepped out, flanked by two Gen-2 synths and single female Gen-3 who bore a dead expression in her eyes. 

The two scientists looked at one another and then at the Gen-3, eyeing it with some confusion,

“We’ve spent days running diagnostic after diagnostic, there’s nothing wrong with the unit,” Loken said with a sigh, “I just don’t understand what might have happened. We’ve gone line by line, looked at every scrap of code executed during the incident. None of it out of place. In fact, it doesn’t appear like she was even following the programmed procedure…”

“Maybe she wasn’t,” Dr. Binet replied as he stared at the female Gen-3, “I know you don’t want to hear it Max...but…”

“No I don’t. And neither does The Director.”

“I’ve had a number of talks with Father and actually allowed me to voice my concerns regarding the issue of Synth sentience. If more people…”

“Spare me,” Loken sighed, “Regardless I don’t want to hear about it now. Father wanted us to look for a source of malfunction, mechanical or software based. We haven’t been able to find one yet. And Phase 4 is rapidly approaching, we have no choice but to clear the Gen-3 line once we’ve put into place the new safeguards that The Directorate is enforcing.”

Dr. Binet didn’t reply, but simply turned to the Gen-3, unwilling to argue further,

“A3-18, engage storage procedure”

A3 immediately began walking towards the darkness as Dr. Loken pressed a button on a nearby illuminated panel. 

The lights in the storage room began to turn on one by one revealing rows upon rows of Gen-3s. Thousands of them lined up and backs straightened: packed together like crates of toy soldiers, each with the same deadened expression that A3 bore. 

“We’ll have to get these suited up soon enough…”