Chapter 626: We Are Neither the Best Nor the Worst

Chapter 626: We Are Neither the Best Nor the Worst

When Chu Guang discovered that the communication module of Vault 100 was overloaded, his instinctive reaction was that the vault had encountered a situation similar to Vault 79—restless spirits lingering in a tomb that should have been asleep.

Yet the final outcome defied his expectations.

According to the information exchanged by players on the forum, the overload of the information module was not caused by human interference as he had imagined. Rather, the ignition of the fusion reactor had rebooted the life-monitoring module, which in turn awakened the dormant AI, causing the "Dome Self-Destruct Program," halted a century and a half ago, to resume its countdown.

Fortunately, his clever players had made use of the clues left by the so-called "Tombkeeper." By expanding the detection range of the life-monitoring sensors, they managed to trick the AI administrator into treating the bugs inside the vault as descendants of the vault’s original residents, thereby terminating the dome self-destruct sequence.

What remained was simple.

All they had to do was repair the communication module, reclaim administrator privileges, and thoroughly purge the database of the mountain of bugs left by the sixty-year conflict between the "Tree People" and the "Worker Ants"—a tangled mess of code. Then the vault could return to normal.

After two centuries, this vault was no longer fit to serve as a casting well. At least until the bugs inside were dealt with, it needed to continue existing as a vault.

When the time was right, the Alliance would decide on a new purpose for it.

Yet a question lingered in Chu Guang’s mind.

Apart from the Overseer named Craig, who had died as a human within the vault, what had happened to the other 110 residents who had uploaded their consciousness onto the circuit boards?

He had found no trace of those 110 residents in the vault’s database.

Surely they couldn't have simply vanished from the vault after uploading their minds to the circuit boards.

As Chu Guang pondered this, he suddenly remembered something Xiao Qi had mentioned when his players first entered the vault: the terminal at the entrance had records of being accessed in 2190.

2190—that was the 61st year of the Wasteland Era.

It was also the year when the vault’s last survivor—the Overseer named Craig—had his vital signs fade away within the vault.

---

Vault 101.

After several days, Chu Guang visited Dr. Method again. Their meeting place was the same coffee shop where they had previously rendezvoused.

This time, however, was different. The coffee shop, tucked away in a corner of the bustling streets, was nearly full. Chu Guang only spotted Method waving at him from the far back, near a cabinet.

"Over here."

Walking up to Dr. Method, Chu Guang pulled out the chair directly across from him and sat down, getting straight to the point.

"Thank you for the password. The legacy of Vault 100 has been a godsend for us, especially the plasma engine."

Hearing Chu Guang’s thanks, Dr. Method smiled faintly, took a sip of his coffee, and replied in a cheerful tone.

"Is that so? Glad I could help. I think the residents of Vault 100 would be pleased that someone is carrying on their unfinished mission."

Chu Guang sighed softly.

"We tried to source enough materials to produce a prototype using that black box, and we disassembled the result. Unfortunately, our engineers couldn't fully digest the technology, nor could they find a way to manufacture it without the black box. We can only design aircraft around the prototype and its battery."

Dr. Method’s face showed no surprise. Instead, he offered Chu Guang a word of comfort.

"That’s to be expected. Given your current conditions, trying to produce something like that on your own is nothing short of fantasy. It’s not just the technology you lack—it’s the hardware to turn it into reality. Don’t worry about what you can’t do. The black box will be enough to help you bridge the gap from having nothing to understanding the how and why. All you need to do is take steady steps forward."

Pausing, Method seemed to recall something and added in a teasing tone.

"Of course, there’s another possibility: the black box might remain a black box to you until the end, turning from a tool into an addiction you can’t quit."

"I’ll guard against that happening."

With those words, Chu Guang paused, tapped his left arm twice with his index finger, and a holographic interface materialized before him.

Seeing the hologram pushed toward him, Method raised an eyebrow.

"What’s this?"

Chu Guang replied succinctly.

"Our residents found more than just the black box and the Overseer’s log in the vault. They also uncovered records left by the 'Tree,' the 'Tree People,' and the 'Worker Ants.' They’ve tried to piece together the sixty-three-year history of Vault 100."

In truth, he had merely copied and pasted what players had discussed on the forum, deleting subjective judgments and keeping only the relatively objective parts.

Method extended his finger with interest, dragged the holographic screen toward himself, and scrolled through a couple of pages.

"…Fascinating."

He looked up at Chu Guang, a playful note in his voice.

"So in the end, the Worker Ants—whom the Tree People saw as having turned themselves into bugs to escape—didn’t really become bugs, nor did they actually flee the vault. And that poor soul who lived on the bottom floor to the very end, the 'foolish one who would rather tear down the house to get out,' wound up sacrificing himself to the bugs to save the vault he so despised."

"How ironic."

"I imagine if Craig were still alive, he’d find it bitterly absurd. He’d probably mock that wretch—if they hadn’t hidden themselves in the cryo-chamber, determined to destroy the vault, Vault 100 wouldn’t have ended up like this. A bunch of pathetic bugs, even if they did something trivial at the end of their lives, it’s not enough to atone for their sins!"

As he spoke, he raised his voice slightly, as if addressing not just Chu Guang but someone else in the noisy coffee shop.

Or perhaps voicing someone’s inner thoughts.

Chu Guang noticed a figure at a nearby table clench his fist on the tabletop, then slowly release it.

Given the knowing look on Method’s face, Chu Guang confirmed his suspicion: this man had met Craig.

Through that terminal at the entrance.

After a moment of thought, Chu Guang offered his own perspective.

"I see it differently. As an outsider, it seems to me that both the Tree People and the Worker Ants were residents of Vault 100. One group sought power, wanting to turn the vault into a permanent prison; the other wanted freedom so badly they were willing to destroy it."

"In their conflict, they used the most extreme and deadly methods against each other, twisting the rules designed to protect them into tools for persecuting their own. To me, that’s why they were ultimately destroyed."

"In fact, every move they made was consistent with the rules of their time—whether hiding their vital signs to trigger the dome’s self-destruct or exploiting program bugs to overload the reactor and cut power. What’s baffling is that no one thought to fix these long-standing safety flaws. Instead, they kept them as nuclear weapons to use against each other."

"Normally, vault residents wouldn’t all pile into cryo-chambers, and a fusion reactor almost never overloads. But they did everything the designers never imagined, resulting in tens of thousands of deaths and a shutdown lasting over a century."

Pausing briefly as Method gestured for him to continue, Chu Guang spoke again, his tone casual.

"The one who called himself the Tombkeeper eventually realized that both they and the high-and-mighty Overseers were part of the vault itself. The Tree People didn’t descend from some non-existent tree—they were born from among them. And their fate wasn’t the stupidity of any one person, but everyone bore undeniable responsibility."

"From an outsider’s view, I think his actions in his final moments were enough to redeem him. Vault 404 will take up their torch, carry their memories, and march forward, fulfilling the mission they forgot in their carelessness."

As he spoke, a note of regret crept into Chu Guang’s voice.

The vault had been saved, yes.

But this wasn’t the perfect ending.

He hesitated, then continued.

"…Of course, if that last Tree Person, in the final days of the 61st year of the Wasteland Era, had taken the time to go down to the lowest level of the vault and spend a few dozen minutes understanding what had happened there, perhaps we wouldn’t have needed to come over a century later to put an end to their grudges."

The answer was already written down.

Copying it wasn’t hard.

Even with language barriers and the need for translators, the Alliance’s players, using only the clues available, managed to decipher, through guesses and intuition, the last words of the Worker Ant who had survived to the end. They used the key he had forged with his life to shut down the systemic error that could have brought the entire vault crashing down.

Just then, a choked sob came from a nearby table.

"Craig… that bastard wouldn’t mock him… if he’d known what that man did."

The words seemed forced through gritted teeth.

Chu Guang turned toward the sound. A man in a gray jacket sat with his back to them, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Translate into English:

The same was true for everyone else.

Intermittent sobs drifted from another direction.

"I remember that child... He became an overseer in '53, just a young man in his early twenties."

"He loved that place more than anyone. I still remember him saying... that when it was all over, he wanted to open a museum in the shelter and tell stories of the old days to the young lads of the New People's Union."

"Damn it... Why didn't that guy come to me! Why didn't he use my body? I'd already decided to give up my flesh! He could have just taken mine!"

The once lively café had lost its cheerful atmosphere; every face was etched with bewildered loss, inconsolable grief, and the regret of closed eyes.

It seemed just as he had guessed—

The 110 residents who had uploaded their minds into the "Great Tree" had not slept eternally in Vault 100, but had been taken away from that hopeless shelter in the Wasteland Era year 61 by someone.

That someone was Method.

He who had established a perfect technical recovery system for the Post-War Reconstruction Committee's Technical Department and had devoted nearly his entire life to it, left the Great Rift in disappointment in the Wasteland Era year 45, heading south along a path diametrically opposite to the Institute.

Vault 101 was clearly not the first shelter he had visited; the access record left on the terminal outside Vault 100's gate over a hundred years ago was his!

Meeting Chu Guang's inquiring gaze, Method offered no explanation, merely sipping his coffee lightly, just as he had when Chu Guang first entered.

Then he spoke a meaningful sentence.

"What do you think is the best ending for them?"

Chu Guang pondered for a moment and said.

"Every part plays its original role."

Method: "What do you mean?"

Chu Guang said succinctly.

"Literal meaning. The 'Tree' as the administrator, overseers as overseers, residents as residents. They actually made a decent start; other shelters might have had far worse beginnings. But in practice, they completely deviated from the original vision. The residents closest to the Tree became tree-dwellers dependent on it, while those farthest from the Tree were no longer even human."

"Each doing their own job, you say? That's the ideal scenario, but in practice it might be entirely different," Method set down his coffee cup and smiled faintly. "Like the Post-War Reconstruction Committee—believe it or not, it was the best solution at the time. Never before had so many people of different identities given their all for the same cause without reservation. Without it, this planet might have 'died.' Yet even so, it only lasted forty-five years."

Chu Guang said bluntly.

"I know. The worst choice is the easiest, and the best choice is always the hardest. That's why we won't become them."

Method raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Then which kind are you?"

Rising from the coffee table.

Judging it was time to leave, Chu Guang glanced at the Vault 100 survivors still weeping over yesterday, and answered Method's question.

"We're somewhere in between."

"Neither the best, nor the worst."

...

The excavation of Vault 100 was complete. Twenty-two black boxes were recovered from the shelter, along with a large number of mechanical devices.

Vault 100 left behind astonishing technological legacies, especially a series of construction equipment including the "Beetle-type" engineering armor, which was more suitable for work in complex terrain than the "KV" and "Miner" series exoskeletons currently used by the Alliance. It could even operate without scaffolding, climbing and working on nearly vertical surfaces.

Since the overseers of Vault 100 originally planned to live underground for life, the shelter's creativity for a long time focused on "how to use limited resources and space to make the environment more livable."

Besides that, there were those little creatures called "Gabaeng."

Their genetic origin was probably the scarab beetle, but the original DNA had been modified beyond recognition, making them an entirely new species.

The shells they shed were high-quality chitin material, usable for producing polymer armor plates for exoskeletons or carbon-based integrated circuits.

Vault 100's database contained experimental data and complete industrial applications for these chitin materials.

According to that data, the Alliance could directly use the chitin piled in the shelter's atrium as ore.

Given that over six million insects were active there, the place would likely serve as the Alliance's biological mine for a long time.

Meanwhile, ecological impact analysis of "Gabaeng" was also underway.

Based on Alliance biologists' assessments, due to the unique ecological environment of Westzhou City, a series of creatures including mutated water striders, battleship shrimp, and even split-claw crabs were natural predators of "Gabaeng," so this creature had not spread to the wasteland outside Westzhou City like deathclaws.

However, precisely because of this, the "Gabaeng" that survived in harsh conditions were more aggressive than a century ago, with sharper stingers hidden in their abdomens.

Currently, the Alliance's Institute of Biology, referencing suggestions from Vault 404, officially named the "Gabaeng" discovered in the Wasteland Era year 213 as Ghostface Beetles, and began further exploration of their biological technology and the industrial value of their shells.

In short, the novel gadgets recovered from Vault 100 would keep the Alliance's research institutions and production units busy for a whole year.

Camp 100.

Looking at the mountain of machines in the warehouse, I'm the Blackest couldn't help but sigh.

"Isn't there a single normal shelter in this wasteland?"

The scientific expedition team needed to appraise the value of these grave-robbed artifacts, then settle the rewards for the Storm Corps in this operation.

This work would take a few days.

Although the shelter's password and coordinates were provided by the mission, and all they did was the easy job of prying open the coffin lid, the credit for saving the shelter was still counted on their heads. The final rewards in silver coins and contribution points would surely not disappoint.

And Brother Springs, as the corps commander, had also recorded great merits for the players who delved into the dungeon.

Hearing Brother I'm the Blackest's complaint, Springs chuckled.

"Isn't it possible that normal shelters don't need us to dig them up? They completed their original plans over the past two centuries, either joining surface survivor settlements or becoming settlements themselves."

Leaving aside weirdos like the Enlighteners, after the Wasteland Era year 50, Blue Coats had been trickling into Boulder City.

Besides that, the origin of the Corporation was also a shelter, and a single-digit one at that.

Not to mention the Alliance itself, which had even nursed back to life a batch of shelters that were already on their last legs.

"Survivor bias?"

I'm the Blackest sighed, then his gaze fell on the metal sphere riding a mechanical spider nearby, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"By the way, why did you come out too?"

Bell, riding on the mechanical spider's back, turned its head in dissatisfaction.

"You ask me? I should ask you! Didn't we agree to let me be a tour guide at the museum? So where exactly is the Alliance's museum? How long do I have to stay in this damn place?"

I'm the Blackest looked at it with a strange expression.

Letting this thing be a museum tour guide...

Could it sell tickets?

Just then, footsteps came from outside.

The two people and one AI in the room looked toward the door almost simultaneously, and saw a strange man standing there.

He wasn't alone; behind him followed a sparse crowd, seemingly a hundred or so.

They wore blue coats, but their skin was a lusterless gray, like mannequins in an old shop window.

Without a doubt, they were androids.

Yet, whether intentionally or not, they made their android features very obvious, even jarring—not only were they all bald, but their facial features were only perfunctory outlines.

Exactly like Frost and Eclipse when they first came to the Alliance.

Looking at the man standing in the doorway, Wo Zuihei's expression faltered, and he blurted out without thinking.

“Who are you?”

“My name is... Gugel,” the man said, seeming to take a moment to recall his own name, placing his hand on his chest and bowing slightly. “We are survivors of Vault 100.”

Wo Zuihei was stunned, and Quanshui, standing nearby, was the same; expressions of surprise rose on their faces in unison.

As for Lingdang, she stared wide-eyed at the man before her.

“Gugel?! Is it you? You... actually came back? Strange, my master said the cowards were all dead, and he would soon die too—why are you alive again!?”

Watching Lingdang chatter on, a trace of sorrow flickered across Gugel’s abstract features. He sighed softly, as if unwilling to recall more, and turned his gaze to Wo Zuihei and Quanshui.

“The people in this camp told me I could find you here, and through you, find that Administrator.”

Commander Quanshui steadied himself and asked with a strange expression.

“You... what business do you have with him?”

“We wish to see him once more.”

The man named Gugel paused for a moment, then spoke earnestly.

“We originally intended to sleep forever in Vault 101, but that place can no longer hold our guilt-ridden, restless souls.”

“So we thought, rather than spend our remaining time in repentance, we should fulfill the lifelong wishes of those compatriots who died because of us.”

“If you plan to rebuild the wasteland, our knowledge should be of some use—perhaps it can ease a little of the torment in our hearts.”

“We hope he will take us in!”

Quanshui opened his mouth, about to say something, when a resonant voice suddenly came from not far outside the door.

“The Alliance is not a charity; we take no one in.”

Everyone turned to look in the direction of the voice.

There stood a azure-blue power armor in the sunlight, smiling as it looked at the crowd gathered at the warehouse entrance.

“However—”

As Quanshui had anticipated, his tone shifted.

“...Anyone who sincerely desires to end the wasteland and has spontaneously resolved to contribute to that cause—we welcome their joining!”

“Whether they are alive or already dead.”

Seeing Gugel’s slightly moved expression, Chu Guang extended his right hand.

“Welcome, survivors of Vault 100.”

“Tell me what you are best at, and then we can begin!”