I’m telling you, there’s a better way.
So you keep saying. But what happens when the power goes out? Or that terminal breaks? The truth is, nothing’s more reliable than a guy with a bag.
This is going to get you killed dad.
Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.
He’s gonna be the death of me.
Why couldn’t he be like most middle aged dads and go chasing mirelurks or something?
I don’t know what I’m gonna do if he dies.
What was that argument about?
It’s my dad. He thinks it’s his job to deliver the mail.
It is my job. People pay me to do it.
(sigh) It’s all my fault, really. A few months back I asked him to deliver a letter for me. One letter became two, then three, then four.
He was so into it, for his birthday I made him that outfit, just for laughs. I didn’t think he’d become the Commonwealth’s personal postman.
Right – (Got a death wish)I think your father’s got a death wish.
It sure feels like it, the way he carries on. But truth is, he just loves the job.
Hopefully this thing I’m working on will make it so he never has to do it.
Down – (Sounds dangerous)That sounds dangerous.
You think? There’s a reason he’s got me so worried.
Hopefully this thing I’m working on will make it so he never has to go out there again.
Left – (It’ll be fine)Hey, relax. What’s the worst that could happen?
Are you serious? My dad might die, that’s the worst that could happen.
Up – (Leave him be) Maybe you should just leave him be.
Can’t do that. It’d be the same as letting him die.
What are you working on?
I like to call it terminal mail, or T-mail for short.
You see, a few scientists over at CIT were working on a way to deliver messages electronically.
You realize how crazy that sounds, right? Electronic mail? It’d never work.
But it did work. The problem is, they could only do it if the terminals were connected, so they all had to be linked by wires.
But the other day I was reading one of those old Boston Bugle papers for fun.
And one of the stories on the front page was about this chem bust. Thing is, the dealers were CIT students. And they were using terminals to make their deals.
(How does it work?)How would something like that even work?
My guess? Same way Travis tells you the news, only it’s text coming into your Pip-boy instead of sound.
The point is, we get those terminal parts, or better yet, some schematics, and we might be able to use them to make a network of our own.
(Sounds impossible) That sounds impossible.
It might be. But the paper said it was real. So you gotta ask yourself who you believe more. Reality, or the good reporters at the Bugle.
(I’m confused) I don’t get it.
The chem dealers lived half a mile away from each other. Which means none of their terminals were connected.
Somehow these kids figured out what their professors couldn’t.
Who else had access to the terminals?
You mean besides the chem dealers? Probably the police, and maybe looters.
But I doubt any of them would recognize their value.
Where can I get these schematics?
We can try a couple places. I’d start with the CIT dorms, then maybe the local precinct. I’ll mark both locations on your map.
You get me two working network devices, and I’ll have just what I need.
You’re back. Got something for me?
Here you go.
You found them! And they look like they’re in pretty good shape, all things considering.
I’ll see if I can solder them into the terminal we got. But in the meantime, here, for your trouble.
Thanks for helping me with that job. Now I just gotta figure out how to hook everything up.
You saved my dad’s life. Don’t expect him to be too grateful though, consider he doesn’t know it.
Hey, guess what? That terminal was connected to a whole bunch of other terminals. Seems like our chem dealer had a lot of friends.
I think one of them is in the vacant house in Diamond City. So if you ever wanna chat, feel free to send me something.
Did you get my T-mail?
That last letter you sent. Wow. I’m gonna need a second to process that.
Is someone else using your terminal? Because some of the things you’re writing me…
Now that last T-mail you sent was just plain mean.
You’re as fun to write as you are to talk to.
Thanks for the letter. You’ve really got a way with words.
Be sure to check your terminal. I sent you a response already.
Quest related mails
That last letter. The things you’re going through. I can’t even imagine.
Got your letter. I’m sorry about what happened. I really hope you find your son.
I sent you a response. Hang in there.
That last T-mail was really exciting. You get into some crazy adventures.
The last letter you sent was really thoughtful. Had me thinking for hours about all kinds of stuff.
I sent you a response. I know it’s tough sometimes working with a group, but you got a work together. I talk about it more in my response.
So you really made it into the Institute? Wait, don’t tell me. Send me a letter.
Through rain, sleet, snow, or radioactive wastes. The Postman always delivers.
We deliver every day of the week, except on Sundays.
Truth is, I like getting out there. The exercise is good for me too.
This job’s given me purpose.
I keep a record of all my deliveries in that file cabinet. Good ol’ pen and paper is more reliable than any machine.
Now what am I gonna do? Delivering the mail’s all I had.
I appreciate the concern, but really, I was fine.
I don’t care how convenient it is, a terminal just isn’t the same as a hand-crafted letter.
Cambridge Police Station
CIT dorms will be a new location, near CIT ruins
You know, Postmen in the old world had to deal with hazards too. And they never complained.
A little snow and a few angry dogs hardly compares to what we got out here.
I’m just saying, there were risks. But it was worth it knowing the children got their Christmas cards, and soldiers got in touch with their wives.
But it’s not Christmas, and we’re not at war.
Are you sure about that?
Look, I’m old. I could die just sitting down doing nothing.
That’s not the point. Dying with a beer in your hand is one thing. Getting eaten alive by super mutants is another. Why can’t you see that?
See, that’s where you and I differ. What you call a grisly death, I call a noble one.
Dying trying to deliver the mail isn’t noble dad. It’s stupid.
Why don’t you get a normal hobby?
What, like those terminal games you like to play? I never could get into that.
You never even tried. You played for like two minutes and gave up.
I didn’t give up. My eyes did.
So you got that thing hooked up, huh?
I did. Now there’s no need for you to go out there and risk your life.
Well, at least one of us is happy.