Less Shaken, But I'm Here!

Date: 8.15.2224
Location: Vault 288, Houston, Texas

I’ve been spending time learning the lay of the land inside these walls. Vault life is its own world—many folks have never stepped outside. The few who did venture beyond are traders, passing through with stories and supplies. Their tales paint a world both familiar and strange, scarred but still breathing. I’ll have to see it for myself soon enough.

Met more people. The Jacinto family—they’re the ones behind this vault’s barbecue, keeping a flame alive in the dark. There’s pride in what they do, a kind of ritual in the smoke and spice. I’ll speak on them more later; they’re a thread in this place’s fabric.

Overseer Lillie Jacinto is a descendant of pre-war Jacintos, a line that stretches back generations before the world went silent. You’d expect reverence, a connection to the past. She carries it, I suppose, but she distances herself. Keeps it professional, keeps it cold, keeps it contained. Hard to read if it’s indifference or discipline. Either way, she does not lean on history for comfort, does not let it tangle her in sentiment. I respect it, but it’s a strange thing to see someone born of legacy treat it like an obligation instead of a life.

This vault—its walls hold a thousand stories, some quiet, some waiting to be heard. So much more to learn here, so much I’m still trying to understand.

One foot in the past, one in this new reality. The balance isn’t easy, but it’s necessary.

— Big Chief Mike Marcel