~POV Robert House~
House leaned back into his chair, his bedroom was dimly lit, with the main source of light coming off of his laptop. An intense clanking noise echoed in the dorm, as Robert's fingers flew across the keyboard of his laptop as he was in the final stretch of his current project. The code he had compiled within a week's time chimed softly, as Robert initiated the download, a quick process that brought new upgrades for his precious creation Victor. "And with this patch, you should be able to handle any threats that appear on the CIT network."
Upon the download finishing, Victor's digital avatar materialized on the laptop screen, the familiar southern AI was now enhanced with new digital tools that shimmered into existence onto his avatar. Each one of these advanced security arsenal gleamed with a silver holographic like tint to them. There was a sleek six-shooter similar to that of a Ranger Sequoia, now holstered at Victor's hip, inside the chambers the revolver was loaded with custom "scrubbing" algorithms capable of analyzing, hijacking, and redirecting incoming malware or hostile code straight back at the sender or out right deleting the malware if enough shots were leveled at the threat. A sturdy bowie knife rested in a sheath on his belt, appearing as a simple blade but capable of gutting, altering, editing, and rewriting any software or code Victor encountered. Next to the knife was a coiled lasso, one designed for rapid isolation and containment of threats, quarantining suspicious packets or processes before they could spread or cause further harm within the CIT system.
A shiny sheriff's badge was pinned to Victor's digital hide vest, the core of the new behavioral analysis and anomaly detection engine, constantly scanning for patterns that didn't belong in the system while helping to maintain Victor's cover within CIT's Network, displaying him as nothing more than a white blood cell within the virtual system and not a foreign anomaly. If the cover failed to trick any observers, then on Victor's feet, was the last upgrade House could think of. A pair of sturdy cowboy boots with sharp digital spurs that would let Victor escape any threats that came from Malware, cyber security experts, or some CIT Administrator who somehow noticed the AI. The boots would enable Victor to escape without leaving any digital footprints, nearly teleporting back into the safety of the laptop sanctum without any serious scraps with hostile programs too much for the AI to handle. A quick getaway as Victor liked to say.
"Well now, Boss, I feel like a proper Mighty Ranger of Justice, ready to ride out at first light and chase down any no-good, lily-livered ne'er-do-well foolish enough to stand in the way of the fine folks of CIT and their terminals. Why, all I'd need now is a faithful steed beneath me, and a sunrise on the horizon. Any of these Enclave varmints foolish enough to come stompin' across the CIT network without so much as wipin' their boots is liable to get themself hog-tied, thrown over a fence rail, and branded clean outta the system!" Victor began flexing, his digital avatar almost wishing to test out his new toys against any cyber threat that might be used by the deep state.
"Good. With the Secretary of Energy still in the Commonwealth area there is no telling what his next move is, we must be prepared for anything and everything. The news of his dead secret service agents more than likely reached him already. How he responds against CIT or me personally, is something I don't have enough information to properly prepare for, so we are going with my old promise of upgrading you in case of a cyber intrusion, a sort of extra digital security system for CIT. When I start building up my soft drink idea, I will get the Dean to allow me to install vending machines throughout the campus. I plan to store within them network hubs that can also grant you a safe place to retreat into when I have the laptop taken off of the university grounds. More importantly it will greatly aid you in your primary objective of observing the students and facility for the enclave spy. Those vending machines will make it far easier for you to listen in on their conversations." With upgrades for Victor finally done, that is one task off my ever growing work load. Hopefully, Victor will do well away from the laptop for some time, that is the last piece of evidence I need to remove from CIT. If a warrant to search my dorm arrives, and they find me with this revolutionary piece of technology it will cause more problems than it would solve. Yet, I still need Victor within the CIT network to cover my tracks and look for the spy. The sooner I am granted access to the Continuum labs, the sooner I can rid myself of these problems.
The week following Robert Edwin House dragging the limp dead body of Secret Service Agent Sid Harlan off of CIT's campus grounds was one that filled the Nevada genius with a chest tightening fear. One so potent that it nearly made Robert consider the possibility that he was suffering a heart attack, which he wasn't. It was nothing more than an inconvenience of a wandering mind, one that Victor helped quickly eliminate by recommending assisted breathing techniques. That dulled the metaphorical gorilla trying to tear itself free from his chest cavity, yet Robert's mind still raced with possible threats of being discovered, even reliving how he had positioned the corpse with calculated care beside the crushed government vehicle that housed another dead Secret Service agent. Robert was sure that the unnatural Boston storm would greatly help aid him, washing away whatever minute traces of evidence of his presence from the crime scene. Yet, still the concern lived rent free in his mind, and unable to exhale these stubborn problems away, House began taking alternative precautions.
First off he had no lawyer he could count on to represent him, and House did not want to seek out any legal counsel just yet for it could tip off unwanted observers that might notice the extreme change in House's actions. So on top of his classes, and upgrades for Victor, Robert also took up reading legal books to aid him plot a course of action in the worst case scenario. If any legal action was to be taken against Robert Edwin House, the lead prosecutor would find more trouble than expected from the first year student. For House had prepared for every situation his mind could imagine and then some, his arsenal of legal defense were also augmented with both local commonwealth law as well as federal US laws. Robert took everything into consideration, going through piles of legal books, all of which now decorated House's bedroom, as the young university student had used the heavy reading as a means of reducing the impatient edge that came with the wait. Every second of time waiting upon the other shoe to drop, was an enemy that took a mental toll on even the most hardy of minds, even House's, but the man found that by busying himself he could avoid a great deal of the stress.
Robert had prepared a great deal of legal work in the case he would be taken to trial for the murder of at least one of the two dead agents, if not both due to overreaching prosecutors. Though Robert was preparing himself for the worst case scenario, he still hoped for the best option of not being discovered. Which was why House did everything he could to secure his odds of remaining undetected, doing everything he could think of without raising any suspicion. The chances of his discovery in the crime were slim, Robert had gone to great lengths, even working Victor ragged by AI standards, all in order to hide evidence of his wrong doing. No matter what Robert did, even with the aid of his two new perks, A Clean House and Institutional Ghost, he knew there was a possibility something would be uncovered that came back to bite him. House pondered what that something could be the entire night he was at the Cabot manor, something that could link directly back to CIT or worse him. If someone lucky enough, perceptive enough, or just smart enough was put in charge of the investigation then they would notice something about the crime scene that pointed to foul play. House was attempting to work out what he needed to eliminate in order to preserve his future, but nothing was coming to mind outside of his immediate focus. The best House could do was destroy as much evidence of the crime that he had a hand in, that would throw off anyone snooping around with or without a warrant.
The Cabot family had Robert remain with them during the morning to enjoy a wonderful breakfast of poached eggs with English muffins, accompanied with an assortment of fresh cut vegetables and chased down with hand squeezed orange juice. The breakfast send off was truly welcoming, almost making the Cabot family seem like a normal upper class Boston household. The dedication to the act they put on for Robert also made it clear that the lot of them were completely oblivious to House's snooping of their home the night before. Had they even suspected that Emogene's newest plaything had not only seen the formula for the immortality serum, but memorized it by heart, House was certain he would not be leaving the company of these eldritch vampires so easily. With a promise to see the family real soon, one that Emogene would hold Robert to, House was finally allowed to leave the Cabot Manor. Though he was slightly molested by a clingy Emogene who claimed she would count down the days until their next meeting.
Returning to the dreadful Boston weather on foot, House went straight to the nearest home development store in order to acquire a great deal of cleaning materials as well as a series of off brand chemicals that could aid in cleaning a Chinese carpet filled with evidence of House's wrong doings. Everything was paid out of Robert's own pocket, and he did not cut corners as he had acquired an expansive list of chemicals that made House either look like he possessed an acute case of mysophobia or was a lunatic who was plotting to make an alternative form of a chemical bomb in his bathtub. Due to the lack of Abraxo cleaner, a marvelous product that was yet to be made as neither Abraxodyne Chemical nor its parent corporation of Robco industries existed as of yet, Robert had to settle with inferior chemical products.
House could just tell from the percentage of the ingredients list on the back of the containers that these supposed cleansers were so pathetic that House could surpass them all with a far superior product. All it would take was a single afternoon, in a cave, for House to create a chemical formula that would even outshine the amazing capabilities of Abraxo. Such a thing could even be done quicker if House worked within a CIT lab, or better yet the super labs of the Continuum Club, but that would not happen for a while longer. Such a thought did come into the future corporate overlord's mind, but he was in a time crunch, one that required him to eliminate as much evidence as quickly as he could. The worst part of it was that Mao would be present for the cleaning of the rug as today would be his day off. On top of that inconvenience, the amount of cleaning supplies that House had already acquired was enough where Robert was certain his roommate would not be happy about this. That alone required some persuasion, the sort that Robert was certain would be the hardest speech check he went through so far, and would need in order to not raise any suspicion from his roommate. The last thing Robert needed was Mao thinking that House had done something illegal with his carpet. That, and the limited time was the main reason as to why House did not whip up an experimental cleaning solution to test out on the expensive rug, something House doubted even his broken stats could get Mao to accept without raising suspicion.
Mao's carpet was a crucial piece of evidence, so much so that in hindsight House regretted using it. For said carpet needed to be handled smartly and with extreme care, as any mistake with it could cause the carpet to become a smoking gun that could blow a case wide open. Robert House could not outright destroy the carpet, no matter how much he desired to, for if it went missing, it would raise more attention than House wanted. More importantly it would cause people, such as Mao, to ask questions that a police investigator would be interested in hearing answers to. Even if Robert bought a new one to replace it, which House wasn't sure he could acquire easily as it seemed Mao specially ordered the carpet from a dealer in New York city, the acquisition of a 2nd Chinese inspired carpet could leave a paper trail the prosecution could follow. If the carpet supplier was tracked down, he could be used as a witness if a proper prosecutor got lucky enough to discover something out of place with how Sid Harlan died.
Robert's roommate Mao was especially fond of the decorative piece of furniture and could in all due likelihood become a possible key witness in a trial against House if Mao connects the dots upon hearing news of the dead people near the campus. If Robert had destroyed or stolen Mao's precious rug so suddenly, and soon after Agent Sid Harlan's death was revealed, Mao might tip off or even testify to local law enforcement about it. Even without the physical evidence, such suspicions would be strong enough to start forming a narrative that could lead towards the authorities finding another clue, something that House missed or did not think of that could seal his fate. From the news of Mao's missing rug, the prosecution would have enough fuel to light up a narrative to life that unraveled the lucky deception House was handed during the height of the storm. Add in Tim Walters getting involved, carefully whispering into the right ears of an investigation task force, directing them towards House and putting their full focus upon him, from there all bets were off. Anything could happen, as House would be hounded by special agents day and night, looking for anything that could connect him to the deceased Secret Service agent's death. Worse, if the real reason why Agent Harlan was on the campus, and whose dorm room he was supposed to investigate, got leaked to the press, public opinion would turn against Robert.
Heroic Agent slain by greedy University student hiding a possible means of solving the energy crisis. Would there be a fancy portrait of me being put to death like the painting of the poor accused of the Salem Witch Trial. Would Professor Gorllewin hang such a marvel upon his office wall or would my reputation be so utterly tattered by the end that CIT would want nothing to do with me. The thought of such a head line title and the fallout that would come from it, would turn everyone in the Boston Commonwealth against House. So, instead of rocking the boat with his roommate over a carpet that could not only end their friendship, but also House's future, Robert decided the best course of action was cleaning off the mud, while also wiping any traces of Agent Sid Harlan quite literally and professionally.
Robert had prepared all he needed in order to begin a deep clean of the fabric to eliminate any traces of Agent Sid Harlan from its threads, and neutralize a possible chink in his metaphorical armor. Upon returning to his dorm room, Robert found his roommate Mao waiting on him as expected. The Chinaman was on his day off from classes, and he looked to have been stewing over the state of his carpet. Mao wanted to learn more of what happened, and preferably not in the form of a vague apology note that Robert had left behind for the foreign exchange student. House had expected Mao to be furious at the soaked and muddy state of his carpet, the one that was bought with his share of the Robot tournament prize winnings, but instead Robert found an icy welcome that required an explanation out of him.
That time was now, for Mao's carpet was currently hanging above the tub in their communal bathroom, completely caked in dirt, and in need of an explanation. Robert arranged his face into an expression of extreme guilt, a look he had carefully mastered thanks to Victor's lessons on normal human social etiquette. The foreign exchange student remained completely silent as House began recounting his story.
Robert claimed that after returning from his hearing with the CIT administration, still flushed with triumph at being cleared of all charges, he had lost focus on what he was stepping on. In the middle of the worst storm in Boston's recorded history, House had blundered, by slipping on a patch of wet grass and sliding head-first through a stretch of loose mud, drenching himself from head to toe. Desperate to hide the embarrassment, Robert spoke of how he had rushed back to the dorm, stripped off the filthy clothes, and in his haste did not know he had dropped them directly onto Mao's carpet before racing into the bathtub. Only after a long, hot shower and changing into clean clothes did he finally notice the damage he caused, for his muddy clothing had completely soaked Mao's elegant crane-designed rug with a thick layer of filth. House hung his head low after the account with a carefully measured look of genuine regret, hoping it sold the story.
"Is…is this true Robert? You got a horrible mud bath, and did not notice dropping your clothes upon an original Tai Ping work of art?" Mao spoke his words in a weird monotone, but showed an expression of concern, something House did not know if it was directed at him or his carpet.
"Yes, that is exactly what happened my dear friend, and I am sorry for it." Robert Edwin House lied like a dirty rug over a dirty rug. The cockamamie story he had come up with had the full backing of House's high persuasion skills and characteristics in order to explain away the sheer ridiculousness of it. Mao maintained a very calm and reserved manner throughout the entire thing, simply listening until House finished and an awkward silence soon befell the two roommates. Before Mao could respond and break said awkward silence, Robert beat him to it, promising his roommate that he would clean the carpet and return it to its former pristine condition. House even showed all of the cleaning chemicals he had acquired to see it done, all in the hopes of countering any irritation Mao was experiencing. Robert expected an angry tirade from the Chinaman, something about bad roommates and dumb excuses of belly flopping through mud to explain the state of a carpet currently inside of their shared bathtub. What came out of Mao was far different than what House had imagined.
"Well accidents happen Robert, I am sure you did not intend to do that on purpose." The foreigner simply remained aloof, as if he did not care about his ruined possession. Mao's cordial and mature responses was the ideal display of a perfect and forgiving roommate, but that simply put House into an uneasy state that filled the young man with suspicion. House did not know if Mao had actually believed his lies about a rushing Robert accidentally bringing mud and gunk into the dorm room, that there was some sort of cultural disconnect on the matter of one's own property, or that Mao was playing some sort of deeper game and did not want to raise attention regarding it. But then, House properly registered Mao's words in his mind and he did not like the implications he was hearing.
Did not intend to do that on purpose? The words stuck in House's mind like a burr. Was the Chinaman hinting that he knew something was out of place? Mao had worn that same quiet, watchful look ever since Liberty XLR was destroyed, silent, observing, always waiting for more answers, coiling up like a snake before striking. Maybe he already knew about the body. The carpet had been left in the bathroom overnight. Maybe he had found something on it and was simply pretending otherwise. That alone wouldn't be enough to raise his suspicion, the bodies hadn't been discovered yet… but what if Mao had the room bugged the same way I did. Secret cameras, microphones, all of it prepared ahead of time, waiting to extract whatever leverage the foreigner needs to blackmail me with.
House's thoughts raced faster and faster into a dark corner of shadows as if escaping the threat that came before him. For some reason the idea that Mao was planning something, something that meant the ruin of his greater, superior, brilliantly gifted roommate kept rising to the surface of House's mind and refusing to leave. Robert Edwin House was the future of the world and of humanity itself. Offers were already reaching him. Important people wanted him. Dean Oz wanted him. The Energy Secretary wanted him. Even the ghost of Sid Harlan wanted him. So why wouldn't the People's Republic of China want him too? A communist spy, sent to take him down or, worse, to bind that future to the will of his masters in Beijing. It made a terrible kind of sense when viewed from the poker face that kept back the crumbling sanity of a man with the entire world on his back.
Mao's laid-back kindness, the easy forgiveness, the detached calm, all of it was calculated to lower House's guard, to get close enough to stab him in the back. But I see through you Mao Noufu, I see through the false warmth and the quiet eyes that look as if you're already distancing yourself from a murderer. I see you, Mao. I know what you are, and your plots will not work on me.
"Mistakes happen, but besides that, you have spent too much on these cleaning chemical's Robert, here let me at least help pay back a portion of the cost." Mao's words were as calm as the buddha, as he reached down and he offered unwanted financial assistance, which only made House squint his eyes in suspicion.
"I made the mistake, I need to pay for it, I will see to the cleaning of the carpet as penance." House attempted to phrase the words in a manner that would get some form of reaction out of Mao. The specific wording regarding penance should have been more than enough to cause Mao to react in a certain way, but all that House's perception could register was Mao's sudden gratitude.
"Oh Robert, you do not need to do that, I will help you clean up the carpet, together we can finish it fast enough to free up the shower." Mao's voice showed no hint of betrayal yet it sounded like an accusation to House. As such, behind the mask of calm that was Robert, there was nothing but suspicion for his roommate.
"Today is your day off Mao, get some rest, catch up on homework and study my friend, let me wash away my sin. It is my mistake to bear and I would not want to condemn you to such a grueling task on your day off." The words spoken out loud were not the words that House had deep in his heart, for something more poisonous laid there. Why must you butt into my plans Mao? Are you trying to look for further evidence of my crime or do you plan to record me destroying said evidence? Will you blackmail me with a threat of becoming a states witness, to tell the judge that you saw me destroy the proof of my crimes? I did not intend to kill Agent Harlan! The trap was only supposed to knock him out! Knock you out if you dared go into my room to steal information for China! I do not know what game you are playing at but I will not suffer it! I will not suffer you if you keep involving yourself! "I insist, you've already been more than understanding and forgiving. Take your day off, rest, study, and leave this mess to me."
House's smile remained fixed in place, polite and practiced, even as the thoughts behind it sharpened into something colder, something far more… unhinged. Mao hesitated only a moment longer before giving a small nod and responding in a tone that made House question his distrust. "As you wish, Robert. Thank you and I accept your apology friend, it takes a good man to admit when they made a mistake, a bigger man to fix it by themself. Please try your best to return it to its former splendor. It reminds me of a carpet similar to the one my mentor in China had."
Mao, trusting House completely with the work, left to return to his bedroom, looking back only once, as if concerned over the work that awaited Robert. Mao may have left Robert's presence, but he would not be able to escape from the gaze of Victor who had easy access to Mao's ADI terminal. House would ask his AI creation regarding what his roommate did later, and whether or not the dorm room was wired with possible surveillance that was not his. There was also a chance that Agent Sid might have placed some sort of listening device to observe and to listen into the two college students before he perished. The thought of being observed burned fear into House, for the dangers of Pre-War America was real and could damn the savior of humanity before he could properly build his corporate empire. Putting the thought of being observed away, House rolled up his sleeves and began what would be a cleaning process that would take all day. Hopefully by the time Mao was slumbering, House would be finished cleaning his carpet and be able to freely check the dorm for any listening devices that did not originate from him, and organize his next moves from there.
Entering the dorm restroom, House quickly got to work, by mixing a cleaning solution with the precise care of a chemist who understood every reaction at a molecular level and capitalized on a formula that would greatly aid in his task. Into a basin of cold water he measured a carefully balanced cocktail, first a measured pour of industrial-grade Harbor Suds dish surfactant, soon followed by a scoop of Beacon Hill Oxygen Powder for its oxidizing lift, a dash of a local Boston Vinegar Solution, soon ending things with a splash of a diluted hydrogen peroxide blend manufactured by HalluciGen Inc. Learning that Fallout's most infamous biochemical firm made household cleaning products before evolving into a sinister military industrial business with no scruples when it came to human experiments on US grounds, sickened Robert Edwin House. More so to the fact, their current consumer product was much like their future products, subpar and highly dangerous. House had to quickly open a window and leave the bathroom for some time as he suspected the HalluciGen Inc hydrogen peroxide might have contained trace amounts of bleach, for the peroxide came out violently and foamy. Worse, if House's theory was true, then the bleach contaminated peroxide that came into contact with the Vinegar mix might have just created a dangerous chlorine gas, forcing House to retreat from the communal rest room to search for a mask to use for his own safety.
Settling on a cloth mask, Robert returned to his sabotaged cleaning project, to dump said chemical cocktail down the drain and chased after it with cold water to prevent any damage to the pipes of the dorm bathroom. Once the chemical monstrosity was disposed of, House immediately threw away the bottle of HalluciGen hydrogen peroxide. Had the bleach contamination been in a higher dosage, then said bottle of peroxide could have inflicted horrifying chemical burns or even unleash a corrosive mist that could damage ones lungs, not as badly as chlorine gas, but still a painful process. For his next chemical cocktail, House made sure to utilize a different brand of hydrogen peroxide, testing it first to make sure it was not contaminated with bleach. Assured of the quality of the new hydrogen peroxide from a company established in Hermitage Pennsylvania, House began remaking his chemical blend all while pondering how best in the future to deal with the cancer upon the capitalist concept of corporations that is HalluciGen Inc.
That biochemical company was infamous for their negligence and incompetence. A pure form of benign evil that dragged down the good reputation of every other corporation, all due to the actions of this one rotten fruit of a business, tainting all others in the shared basket that is the US market. The Fallout knowledge based on the consumed memories of John, implicated that HalluciGen would one day evolve into a more malignant version of themselves that would horrify Fallout fans world wide. Committing everything from offering faulty products that did not work as intended, only to then adopt the practice of human experimentation in order to fix the former problem. Yet, the crime that HalluciGen committed, that not even Robert House could forgive, was scamming their investors and future buyers with RobCo technology, implicating his future company's good name for a cash grab.
The chemical company had hoped to compete against RobCo's Stealth Boys, by creating something longer lasting like the Chinese stealth armor of the Crimson Dragoon. Unfortunately HalluciGen did what they were perfect at, failing like the pathetic excuses that they were with an even more pathetic R&D department. Said think tank could not produce any results, which should have ended with the company calling it quits when their funding ran dry, but instead HalluciGen decided the best idea was to fraud the United States government and a series of important investors. They would go about putting on a show, one that claimed that HalluciGen was able to replicate something similar to the Hei Gui stealth armor, when in reality it was a false performance utilizing smoke, mirrors, and RobCo Stealth Boys. Whether by luck or a lack of common sense on the part of the investors, HalluciGen acquired capital that originally was meant for purchasing said technology, one that they did not have, so they had to go about creating it first. A complete cyclical waste, as this new source of illegally gotten cash injection went towards their incompetent R&D department who weren't any closer to creating the product that the company claimed to have. This sorry excuse of a Boston chemical company deserved the nukes that fell down upon them, and House only wished he was the one to drop them.
The only thing that HalluciGen could pass of as their "greatest" and only real creation involved a crowd-control agent that was promised to stun rioters and protesters. Yet, said gas grenades were closer to a chemical weapon of mass murder that turned Commonwealth protestors insane, before liquifying them as if they were infected with a super strain of Ebola crossed with nerve gas. Had HalluciGen operated during the post-war period they would do far better selling such weapons to wasteland warlords than they did during the pre-war period. This was all things that HalluciGen would do in the far future, but right now they displayed their early symptomatic show of future incompetence by being unable to make a simple chemical cleaning solution that was not contaminated into a war crime.
Even before the days of the resource wars, where America's low desperate standards that funded anything and everyone for a technological edge to aid in their conquest for resources, HalluiGen still created horrible products born of faulty science and an Inadequate science team. I owe Dean Oz an apology, his fears were a lot more true and closer to his home than even I considered. Unquestioning credentialism is going to be the death of us if the nukes don't get us first. This HalluciGen hydrogen peroxide cleaner would not have gotten past EPA restrictions in John's original universe, the ingredients section of it does not even mention any bleach derivatives inside of it. That public menace of a corporation can't even make simple household products correctly. Note to self when acquiring HalluciGen incorporated, make sure to gut the entirety of the research and administration team after suing HalluciGen to the ground for utilizing RobCo stealthboys in a plot to defraud the government.
Returning back to the task of cleaning Mao's carpet, Robert utilized the same chemical cocktail recipe as before, this time without the inclusion of any HalluciGen products. The resulting mixture proved capable of lifting even the toughest spots of dirt with only moderate exertion. His Strength of 10 helped speed up the process, for House had to scrub with slow, deliberate force, starting at the edges of the carpet and working inward. All of this work was something a proper carpet cleaner would have done in a fraction of the time, but the surprising act of cleaning the carpets felt calming to the future Corporate Overlord. The only other time he felt such relief was when he was allowed to vent at the Black Harp by punching a boxer's face in, an act of mindless Fallout violence that gamers in John's world had enjoyed. Continuing on with the work on the carpet, with more joy than misery, House did all he could to restore it to its former pristine state. It took multiple passes, each one harder and more thorough than the last, before the visible mud finally yielded and the water that ran off the carpet was crystal clear. The work had been so effective it seemed the carpet was beginning to glow in certain patches, quite literally glowing red to House's eyes.
At first House froze, brush still in hand, a cold spike of alarm running through his mind at the strange sight he never before experienced. For a moment Robert wondered if residual HalluciGen chemical gas was still present in the bathroom and was affecting him even with his cloth mask on. The idea of subpar chemicals causing his vision to see things that should not be there, twisting ordinary fibers into something hallucinatory had House panicking. Just as fast as worry of a contact high came, it left as the truth settled into place with clinical clarity. This was no hallucination. This was the effects of his newest perk, A Clean House, activating exactly as designed. Faint crimson light clung to scattered patches of the weave, marking the precise locations where microscopic traces of Sid Harlan remained. Such as strands of silver hair belonging to neither House nor Mao nor any youthful visitor that ever set foot in their dorm room. Then there were possible flakes of skin or clothing worn by Agent Harlan stubbornly clinging to parts of the rug, evidence that could be used against House, the sort that his system recognized and pointed out to the future Corporate Overlord.
House's expression hardened upon the realization, as he returned to scrubbing with renewed, almost zealous intensity, mixing fresh solution and attacking every glowing section until the red hue faded and died out. He did not stop until the entire carpet lay dull and ordinary under the bathroom light, ignoring hand cramps and back pain. By the time that every last trace of Agent Harlan was erased, the perk's warning effects were finally extinguished. Only then did House allow himself to rest, to lean back against a bathroom wall like a crutch, and free his hands from the rubber prisons that dripped with chemicals and water. At that moment Robert's breathing through his cloth mask was better than it ever had been since finding the corpse of the Secret Service Agent Sid Harlan right in front of his bedroom door. Accepting that there was no physical evidence left upon the carpet that could tie House to a murder charge and ending his future plans to save the human race early, House's only concern now was how to dry clean the carpet as fast as possible.
It would take some time for all the moisture to naturally evaporate from the carpet, perhaps a week or two if simply left alone in the bathroom. Already limited in size, the dorm bathroom had too large of a chunk of it taken up by the carpet, while also denying both roommates access to the shower in the meantime. If it was not for the outside world of Boston, which was still engulfed in a horrible rainstorm so severe that the Boston marathon was postponed for late May possibly early June, House would have liked to put the carpet on a reinforced cloth line to dry up in a couple of days. Instead House had prepared ahead of time by acquiring high intensity light bulbs, the sort used in a lizard tank to keep the cold blood reptiles warm. Through strategically distancing said bulbs from one another, House had measured the perfect means of equal distribution of heat throughout the surface of Mao's carpet. The process would quickly evaporate the water from the carpet, but if House did not remain on top of the process, letting the light dry out too long, could cause irreversible damage to the carpet worse than staining it with mud. Less noisy and more freeing than using a blow dryer, but knowing my strange form of luck, Edgar is going to have me help him clean up another lab mess after borrowing so many of these heating lamps.
Exiting the bathroom, and changing into something far more relaxing, House pondered the agent that invaded his domicile without permission or warrant. The transmigrator John, whose very essence House had devoured in the transfer, would have called Agent Sid Harlan nothing more than an NPC, a pawn in the larger game that will one day birth the future Enclave. The superior of this secret service agent had forced the old man to come through a sewer entrance during a horrible storm, all in order to break into Robert House's dorm room, looking for something that did not belong to them. Whether it was notes, designs, or technology that was House's by right of intellect and effort did not matter to the agent, and in so doing his crime he had lost his life, an exchange worthy enough to be turned into a cautionary tale.
Then came the What Ifs. Such as what if House had been inside the dorm room instead of his meeting with Dean Oz, sitting on the cheap couch or wooden chair, when the agent came in, what would have happened to Robert then. Would Agent Harlan draw out his weapon on the first year CIT student, deciding the first-year student was expendable and his research important enough to kill Robert. Would the agent have acted like an old man, one pretending to do a surprise visit of their grandchild, and played up the entire break in as if he just so happened to have mistakenly walked into the wrong dorm room. A thousand scenarios raced through Robert's mind, as he combed through his private domicile, looking for anything that the secret service agent or Mao might have planted. The trap left upon Robert's bedroom door, had been set to dissuade unwanted intrusion, nothing more. The death of Agent Harlan was an accident of age and voltage and poor timing. House had not meant to kill, the first year student had only meant to keep his secrets to himself, that distinction mattered, it had to matter and House did everything he could to get the dead agent living rent free in his head to leave. For the suspicions born from Sid Harlan's ghost was doing more harm to House's judgement than an entire tactical squad of enclave soldiers could.
The man is an NPC, a filthy slave to a future genocidal regime that would get us all killed in due time. The world is better off without him and his ilk. Leave me alone old man, leave me be, I am trying to save humanity while your boss and his boss and their boss is going to get us all killed. House spoke the thoughts to himself, trying to wipe the unease that left the teenager from Nevada unbalanced and jumping at every suspicion that entered his mind. It was unbecoming for a future warlord of the wasteland to worry over a corpse, a corpse whose dead gaze looked judgingly at Robert House even after being removed from his dorm room. This specter was a low constant hum at the edge of Robert's thoughts, effecting Robert's judgement in the worst of ways. Worse, House was certain someone would notice something off from his reactions, he did not know who, but he assumed everyone would as that was the safest option. His roommate who smiled too easily at someone like House, which made no sense to a confused socially stunted man. I did not tell him a joke, I practically spat on his trust and yet he forgave me so easily, that should not be normal, that does not make any sense.
Then there was a political cabinet member of the United States Government that deserved the blame more than House did. That man most likely held a grudge where he could have held a contract that made House a rich man, and Tim Walters a hero in this energy crisis. All of this could have been avoided if Secretary Walters just agreed to the deal or cut his losses and left the Commonwealth. Instead the parasite had sent his own security to rob a first year student. Agent Harlan's death is on you Walters, I am not at fault for his demise.
Ridding himself of any blame, House had continued scavenging through the rental, trying to discover any other listening device or camera outside of his own. With a maxed out perception and intelligence, Robert found no other planted devices, only the ones that House used to observe his roommate and anyone invited into the dorm room while House was away. Robert would have to get rid of them as well, as the human nail sized technologies crafted in secret could open a door of questions that House would not wish to answer. Not with two corpses near the CIT Campus and an investigation that should be as thorough as it should be apocalyptic.
Said bodies were discovered two days later, the Boston rainstorm had kept many people indoors, and as such it took far longer than it should have for them to be discovered. A forensic team was sent out to observe the area, combing for anything of importance, as the back streets leading to the CIT campus were completely blocked off as the investigation was still underway. The official narrative that ran down the CIT rumor mill had already begun to write itself, a mix of bad luck that resulted in one man being crushed by a tree and stress inducing a heart attack in another man of old age. Worse, tales came out that the old man's body had bloated with water, sitting out in the rain for two and a half days resulting in such a macabre state, that when House learned the details it would change the face of the specter that haunted him. Victor kept House informed the entire time, especially to be on the lookout for any Secret Service agents that would come to investigate with a warrant. House had expected an entire squad of DC's finest raining down on the Commonwealth Institute of Technology with the force of a barbaric horde, but the resulting news kicked up a hornet's nest but not the one House expected.
For it was CIT that was rushing to seek answers and evidence, one led by the Dean's right hand man Professor Gorllewin. When Malvagio Gorllewin heard news that corpses were found near the CIT campus, the man rushed to preserve the honor of the university, while preparing everything he could to distance the school from the deaths. From the way Victor relayed the story, it seems like the scholarship administrator was greatly concerned about the two dead people near the campus.
The communications that Victor caught between Professor Gorllewin and Head Security Officer LeBron was interesting. For Officer LeBron and his humpty dumpty egg looking partner, whose name turned out to be Officer Seamus Cain, were allowed near the crime scene to make a positive identification of the corpses near the campus. Both campus security officers looked past the bloated remains and immediately recognized the dead man as one of the agents that accompanied the Energy Secretary during his visit to the campus. That news when relayed to Professor Gorllewin sent that man into a spiral, and started to implement a DEFCON 1 policy campus wide. To LeBron and Cain's horror, Professor Gorllewin had Campus security walking around the school night and day, even in the pouring rain. The only thing that did not get the campus security to go on strike was the promise of overtime pay. Professor Gorllewin, like Robert House, was not taking any chances and wanted to establish control over his domain. Even being in constant contact with CIT lawyers, preparing for what he imagined would be a legal mess of unbelievable proportions, most likely imagining warrants and a dozen other investigators coming to the university any day now, knocking down on the campus doors. The Scholarship administrator was worried the same way House was worried about DC, the President of the United states would send in a brigade of agents to dismantle every inch of the university in order to find someone to blame for the two agents' demise.
"Well now, Boss... looks like good ol' Professor Malvagio Gorllewin's coverin' his tracks about as thorough as a fox brushin' away its own footprints after a fresh snowfall. Reckon he's buttonin' up every loose end just as fiercely as you did back when you stumbled across that deceased Secret Service agent. Smart fella, I'll give him that." Victor spent the next week watching the CIT staff intensely like some sort of movie drama. Professor Gorllewin had Officer LeBron to perform their own in-house investigation on the matter, especially considering how close the corpses of the two Secret Service agents were to the campus grounds. Worse, the fact that the university barred Walters from returning to the campus, yet his men were near said campus without informing CIT administration, left Professor Gorllewin with as much rage as it did worry. The scholarship administrator was certain that those agents had planned to infiltrate the area in an illegal search without a warrant, and now Professor Gorllewin was racing to acquire any evidence that backed up his theory and could be used by his legal team to protect CIT secrets by instilling a counter-law suit against the US Government. The cowboy AI observed as campus security and Professor Gorllewin went through the entire security camera logs, seeking for the thing that Robert had made sure Victor removed all traces of.
Sorry professor Malvagio, but I am siding with Dean Oz on this, you need to pick your battles better. Attempting to sue the US government is only going to cause more headaches from the government than pressure to get them to back off. Professor Gorllewin would not find anything that backed his very correct suspicions, mostly due to the fact that House had Victor aid in destroying all digital evidence that could harm House. If the recording had existed, it would not only reveal Agent Sid entering the campus without permission, but also reveal his unfortunate demise wrapped up in a carpet that House transported off of campus grounds. Victor had scrubbed all evidence of the Secret Service agent coming onto school grounds without a warrant. Eliminating all proof in order to reinforce the narrative that House wanted, that two dead agents never entered the campus, and died outside at the spot that their bodies were found at. Leaving House free from any of the blame.
With all of this tension, the one good thing that came from it was that no one was looking at Robert House, as such the first year student could focus on more important matters. His week following the dead bodies discovery was spent between classes, group projects, clubs and working on Victor's upgrades. All was going well, Robert even had a meeting set up to speak again with Dean Oswald. This second meeting would take place at Dean Cadwell's public office, and not the one hidden behind a vault style door. With the news of dead secret service agents circulating among the important high ranking members of the CIT staff, Dean Oz decided it was best to hide in plain sight. He moved back into the false office, in the case a search warrant and an investigation of the CIT administration building occurred. Dean Oz's deception might direct the investigators to focus their attention upon the false nerve center of the university.
While the true brain of the college, the one hidden behind a vault door, was to be temporarily abandoned. Too many projects of critical importance were contained within the CIT super labs, and the risk of drawing any attention to them was now considered unacceptable. A temporary hiatus was declared, leaving the entire floor off-limits even to members of the Continuum. House did not know the full details of what Professor Gorllewin and Dean Oswald planned for the facility, for the scale of the operation made complete concealment of a vault-like laboratory difficult if not impossible. Victor, always watching and observing, later informed House the genius plan that the Dean and his right hand man had come up with to protect the existence of the super lab.
The only entrance to the Continuum Super Lab was reachable from the elevator, as such, that elevator needed to be dealt with, for it was the only way up onto the secret floor. As such access to that level had been quietly altered, specifically the button on the elevator control panel was simply removed. It was a clean, low-profile deception, no need to move equipment, no trails left behind an investigator could follow, just a single floor that now did not have any real ways of being reached and its existence hidden behind a layer of metal sheet that matched the elevator control panel. A Continuum engineer had performed the modification, one trusted enough where he would wait for the Dean and the Scholarship Administrators permission before reinstalling the button to the labs. Access would only be restored once both the Dean and the Scholarship Administrator judged the immediate danger had passed and it was safe to resume the society's work. In the mean time, the Continuum members continued their work in the standard CIT Lab, busying themselves with the more menial portions of their experiments so as to not fall behind during the waiting period.
"And with all the extra security walking the campus grounds, I wouldn't be surprised if Professor Gorllewin has them watching in case someone tries to scale the administration building and reach the lab through the Dean's real office window." Victor confirmed House's theory almost immediately. His observations had become far easier now that the founder of the proto-Institute had left his heavily secured vault and returned to the more accessible areas of campus that Victor could observe effortlessly. With that knowledge in mind, House left to attend his meeting with the dean. Dean Oswald Cadwell had been waiting for Robert, but had busied himself with a stack of folders and offered a small, measured smile when Robert entered his less than impressive office.
"Ah, Mr. House. Prompt as always. How are your classes treating you this term? Ten concurrent course is a large work load associated, even by our exacting standards." Dean Oz, rose from his seat, offering House a formal handshake and offered the first year student some tea. It was nothing as fancy as the meal they shared during their first meeting, but the gesture was just as hospitable.
"Manageable, I am currently ahead of most of my classes, and as long as I stay on top of everything I should pass much like last semester." House replied, accepting the green tea from the Dean, it lacked the floral middle eastern spices that Robert craved from the first meeting. "The material is straightforward once the fundamentals are in place. I've had no difficulty, I might request Professor Gorllewin for scholarship funding for 6 courses during the summer, and then 12 courses for the coming fall semester."
"Oh you don't plan to take time off for the summer time. Return home to Nevada?" The Dean's question hinted at seeing family, but House had no family to return to, unlike Dorothy who talked endlessly about her parents and siblings, or Emogene whose loved ones were always close by.
"The cost for a round trip to Nevada and back will be expensive. I've heard news that new drill projects are beginning in Texas, but until that oil arrives I think it would be better to focus upon my studies, or perhaps accomplishing the business project we both agreed upon." House attempted to control the direction of the conversation, the sooner he had access to the super labs, the faster he could begin projects that would enable him to become a billionaire before graduating university.
"Well that is good to hear, at least staying close by will make it easier to manage the day to day problems with the company we plan to start. Speaking of which let us deal with the all amazing paper work Professor Gorllewin has prepared. I do not know how that man has become so obsessed with legal matters, I'm certain he did not pick up that trait from me. Both Malvagio and our legal friends had all of this printed out for your review. I'm afraid we must deal with the necessary formalities before you can get proper access to the laboratories. Please take your time and go through them all carefully, we need everything in order before you can officially become a member of the Continuum." Dean Oz stressed the patience and Robert did not understand until he saw the reason why.
House had expected the paperwork to be extensive, even so, the sheer volume surprised him. Nearly five separate contracts were required to be reviewed and signed, just to simply regain entry to the Super Labs, not even to work on projects, but merely to walk through the vault doors again. There were non-disclosure agreements covering every project, every piece of equipment, and even a subcategory dedicated to conversations held inside the super labs. One particularly cautious clause forbade discussing the facilities or anything heard within the facilities, near any stray cats found on campus. The way Dean Oz explained it, there was a more than theoretical risk of listening devices possibly being implanted inside of said stray cats. House noted, after reading all five contracts, with mild amusement, that there was no equivalent restriction regarding speaking about the Continuum's inner projects to artificial intelligences.
The scope of the documents was as thorough as it was paranoid. In the world John had come from, contracts of this density would have been considered excessive. Here, they appeared to be standard procedure. Truly the Fallout pre-war world was a dystopia, dressed in 1950s retrofuturism. Dean Oswald poured himself a fresh cup of green tea, even refilling Robert's empty cup, all while House dissected every page of contracts that just kept coming, one after another. It was once House reached the paper work regarding joint venture of a business that he was allowed some wiggle room to make changes and add demands, unlike when it came to the NDAs.
"I realize the language is rather dense," the Dean said after a moment. "But after recent events, caution has become a necessity rather than a preference. We cannot afford misunderstandings."
"I understand the need for legal assurances." House answered evenly. "I simply prefer precision over ambiguity. A few of these clauses could be interpreted more broadly than intended."
The Dean raised an eyebrow but did not take offense. "Very well. Show me the passages that concern you."
House marked several sections in red ink and offered calm, specific revisions, clearer definitions of intellectual property ownership, tighter language around commercial applications, and protections against unilateral changes. Dean Oswald listened carefully, occasionally asking for clarification, and after a few measured exchanges he accepted most of the adjustments with only minor alterations of his own. By the end of the first week of May, the final contracts were complete. Robert Edwin House signed them without ceremony. Two new limited liability companies came into existence that afternoon.
The first was PermaHarvest LLC, a long-term agricultural and food-preservation venture House had been quietly planning, and with access to the CIT green houses and agricultural facilities, he could begin the ground work for the up coming world food shortages.
The second company on the other hand, would be something far more important in the short term plans of Robert House, and vital for not only his future but also the Continuums. Nuka-Cola LLC, on paper it was a chemical company, one that the Dean hoped to reproduce the solar cell battery design, so he did not care how strange of a name the company possessed. What he hoped for, was not what he would get, for House was not willing to recreate a product that he had no idea how the market would react to. No, Robert House knew how the flagship product of his new LLC would be received by the American people, and more importantly he knew how successful Nuka-Cola would be. The generation of capital as fast as possible was the primary goal of this company, and when Dean Oswald and his Continuum witnessed the speed at which Nuka-Cola flew off the shelves, they would never need to worry about funding ever again.
The most important part of the Nuka-Cola LLC came in the form of a future replacement who might one day take House's managerial role. The Dean retained veto power over any successor House might name, but given who Robert had in mind to replace himself, he was certain the Dean would get along well with the new captain of the ship. Even if he did not, House had secured a reciprocal safeguard to balance out the Dean's veto power. The Dean could not remove House's replacement unilaterally without triggering a dissolution clause that returned all contributed intellectual property to its original creator. A measure that would cut the baby in half, but leave both sides in assured destruction if they did not find a way to get mommy and daddy working together properly. When the last signature dried, Dean Oswald set down his pen and regarded the young man across the table with something close to genuine satisfaction.
"Welcome to the Continuum, Mr. House. Officially this time." The old mastermind behind the Commonwealth Institute of Technology would have celebrated with a more powerful drink than tea if House was the legal age. As such he decided to settle with a new pot of fresh tea.
"I look forward to the work, and more importantly building an empire." House inclined his head once, and as he raised it, he envisioned a glory so great, that it forced the squatter of a ghost that is Sid Harlan out of the recesses of his mind and off to torment someone else's conscience. Truly money is the cure for ills. If the problem persists then you do not have enough capital to apply as a salve. Make more, solve more problems. Agent Harlan, you are no longer my problem.