[color=00aeef][u]Chez Nathan – Tent outside New Vegas Medical Clinic – Morning, October 17th[/u] [/color]

There were twelve students in the tent that morning, ranging from ten years old to almost 60. For this meeting the desks had been pushed to the side, and Chez and his pupils sat on old mats arranged in a circle on the floor. The Followers preferred not to recreate hierarchy during lessons except when necessary.

“I’m glad to see you all again,” Chez said. “Let’s continue from where we left off last week.” He picked up a piece of chalk and drew a large circle on the slate before him, then held it up. “Does anyone want to share what they remember about cell theory?”

Tina’s hand shot into the air. She was a bright twelve year old, and she hadn’t yet lost the enthusiasm of a child. Chez dreaded the day she’d hit her teens. He’d seen so many of his students change overnight, drifting towards the bars and the excitement of the city’s nightlife. 

Chez made a mental note to start sending Tina to Abby’s classes to get [i]the talk[/i] about drugs, boys, and protection. They couldn’t stop teens from taking risks, but with a Followers’ education, a young person was less likely to fall prey to Vegas’ many dangers. At least, Chez hoped so. The city had a way of drawing so many bright young people into its glittering web, then sucking them dry and leaving only withered husks behind, like the carapaces of a spider’s victims. 

“Yes,” he said, nodding at her. 

“Cells,” said Tina excitedly, “are like little boxes. Everything alive is made up of cells - plants, animals, people!”

“That’s right,” said Chez.

“Now hold on a minute,” said Hank, a handyman who salvaged junk in Freeside. “There’s somethin’ queer about that. I couldn’t make sense of it the last time. Way I see it, you’re sayin’ most of the cells is made up of empty space.”

“Not quite empty,” said Chez. “There’s something important inside it.”

“Well, it ain’t solid. Now machines, they’re efficient. You wouldn’t catch them runnin’ about with a whole lotta hollow space inside ‘em. They’re full of stuff.”

“The empty space inside a cell,” said Chez, “is to make room for something very important. Not just to our body, but to everything that lives. Who can tell me: what’s the most important thing in the Mojave?”

The hand of Rick Rafferty, a picturesque 14-year-old street urchin, shot up. “Caps?” he ventured.

[i]There goes a true child of New Vegas,[/i] thought Chez. “Not quite,” he said. 

It was Old Lady Mary, who’d grown up on a Bighorn ranch, who saw it right away. “‘T’s water,” she said. “Ain’t nothin’ in the Mojave can live without it.”

“That’s right,” said Chez. “Water is the critical factor for survival in the Wasteland. Five years of drought taught us that. Water was precious even before the Great War. Now that so much of it is tainted by radiation, its value is unimaginable. It’s essential for the chemical reactions that make up life. Not only that, water in motion, harnessed by the tech of the Old World, generates the electricity that keeps New Vegas alive.”

There were murmurs of agreement from around the circle. Much of biology was not intuitive to people who lacked formal schooling. It certainly didn’t seem to the naked eye, or hand, that human flesh was made up of lots of little hollow boxes. The importance of water to life, however, was something everyone grasped. 

“Next week,” said Chez, “Dr Usanagi will lend us one of her light microscopes. I’ll prepare a sample of plant tissue in front of you and fix it to a slide. You can see the structure of a plant’s wall for yourself. It’s always good to observe something directly when you can, instead of relying on second-hand reports!”

They continued with the lesson, Chez drawing and labelling the organelles and other cell components. 

“Cells can teach us a lot about working together,” Chez said. “You see these things that generate energy in animal cells? The mitochondria? We can’t observe them with the equipment we own, but we have images of them from Old World scientists. The mitochondria have their own DNA. They were once separate entities from us, but they were absorbed by our ancestral cells. 

"The mitochondria benefitted their hosts by making energy, and the host cells benefitted the mitochondria by sheltering them and providing favourable conditions for life. It’s a partnership that’s lasted billions of years, if you can imagine that. A similar thing happened with the tiny organelles that let plants eat sunlight - the chloroplasts. 

“You know, the Followers say a human society is a lot like a cell. Each structure has its own function, and each contributes to the greater whole. In doing so, each entity gains more from cooperation with its peers than from competing against them. This illustrates the principle of mutual aid, which the Followers say is a powerful natural law. It is found at every level of nature, from tiny cells to entire ecosystems.”

Tina raised her hand again. “But the NCR don’t want to cooperate with us. They almost destroyed the Kings, and Freeside.”

Chez hesitated. “It’s important to remember that the actions of the 3rd battalion don’t represent the entire NCR,” he said. “However, it’s true that the current NCR regime in the Mojave enforces a social model which sharply conflicts with the Followers’ vision for society. 

“The NCR did not create all of the Mojave’s problems. Outside of New Vegas, warring factions had by no means entered into a voluntary network of mutual relationships. Most of them were bent on destroying each other. These conflicts were only intensified by the drought. Perhaps under these conditions, we can understand why Colonel Denver felt the need to impose a [i]Pax Californiae[/i] in a top-down fashion, backed up by military force. 

“In Freeside, however, and the surrounding areas, the Followers and our allies had reached a stable social consensus… the NCR’s actions were heavy-handed and destroyed a peace which had evolved organically and sustainably. More proof that a single strategy, political or biological, will not lead to optimal outcomes in every environment. We must be prepared to adapt to changing conditions.”

Old Lady Mary asked, “And how do you propose we adapt to the NCR?”

Chez thought, [i]we pray they don’t consume us. Or if they do, we become like the mitochondria, and make ourselves useful enough that they have to keep us around. Or else, we mutate… like Lettie wants us to do. And we become something else, something deadly enough to kill the host that ingested us.[/i]

But out loud, he said nothing.