//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Reception // Story: Fallout Equestria: Revamp // by midworld1999 //------------------------------// Sector: Bayou-Town 97 Years, 6 Months, 19 Days PSR Bayou-Town was a misnomer if there ever was one. The patch of a dozen or so hovels, held together by equal parts rusty nails, duct tape, and stubbornness, was somewhere in the middle of the mini-desert known as the Arachna, so named for its eight legged inhabitants. Hell of a place to set up town, and I don't mean that in a good way. Whoever thought that location was a good idea ought to be shot. There were no foals to play with in Bayou-Town. Just boring old grown-ups doing boring old things. Two old timers, Steel Latch and Crowbar, were bartering over some spare parts. Nightfly, the local courier, and my dad, a dark green earth pony, were discussing something boring. Mom, a strawberry unicorn, was out buying groceries at the Melons' shop. I was dozing on a dirty mattress in our wagon under a patchwork canopy, trying to avoid the sweltering sun. The radio spouted white noise into the air. There was no way to turn it off. The boring-ness of the day could have been forgiven if it were in range of a music station, but no such luck. Sometimes when we went farther north, a station or two would pop up. Usually we got Radioactive Radio, but sometimes we'd pick up DJ Pon3 too. I liked Radioactive better, but mom and dad always flicked the station to Pon3 whenever he showed up. Said they wanted updates on the situation in New Canterlot. When we were on the move or in another town, there was always something for me to do. Things to organize in the wagon or chores. On days when my parents were busy, doing business in settlements, they couldn't make me do any work. In most towns this was fine, since there were foals around to keep me occupied. But here, all I could do was ferment in my own sweat. It was on days like this I wished I had my cutie mark. If I did, my parents would trust me to do something on my own. That would at least be something. Without a cutie mark, it was just, "Stay out of trouble. We'll be back in a few hours." Goody. I sighed and turned over onto my stomach. The radio lay a few inches in front of my face, blaring static. Volume was broken too, piece of shit. What was the point of even having a broken radio? I brought my hoof forward and fiddled with the dial, vainly hoping the I'd get some sort of reception... nothing. I pulled the radio closer and turned the volume adjuster back forth. Same level of noise. I grasped the antenna in my telekinesis and swerved it in every direction. Nnnope. I let out an angry huff. Suddenly, I was determined to get a signal. I put down the radio and scrabbled into our second wagon. My dad was a "prospector" (basically a polite term for scavenger) and mom was a merchant. As a result of this pairing, we had a surplus of old shit that didn't work with us at all times. Well, that's a bit unfair. Some of our shit half-worked. Anyway, we kept it all in our second wagon. I rummaged through the garbage, looking for anything that might prove useful in fixing a radio. Not much. I hadn't fixed anything before, so I didn't know what to bring. After a few minutes of scrounging, I finally settled on Dad's toolbox (for small repairs) and a rusting coat-hanger before headed back to the radio. The endless static pouring out of the speakers was driving me nuts, so I decided to try to fix the volume first. I used the end of the coat-hanger to pry off volume knob. I brought the resulting hole to my eye and looked about inside. The turning mechanism had somehow been jammed out of place, and was misaligned with the knob. I used my magic to delicately nudge part forward, and I heard it lock into its correct location. I snapped the knob back on and turned it left. The static petered out and died. Thank Celestia. Next I decided to open up the radio from the back, look for anymore problems. I levitated a screwdriver out of the toolbox and removed the back panel after taking out the four fillies-heads securing it. I peered in, looking for anything broken or out of place. After some poking around, I discovered the on/off switch had broken off. The mechanism itself still worked, there was just no way to access it from outside the machine. Using a pair of pliers, I snipped off the end of the coat-hanger. I took the piece and wedged it into the empty on/off device. From outside the machine, I turned up the volume and gave the switch an experimental flick. The static was gone in an instant. I flicked it in the other direction and the static reappeared. It worked. Nothing else in the machine appeared to broken, so after a quick battery check (82% CHARGE) I replaced the panel and screws. Now the only problem was the distinct lack of signals. I turned the dial through all the channels again just to be sure, but still no stations. Time to change that. Since nothing was actually wrong with radio anymore, all I could do now was figure out how to boost the signal. I remembered a radio in the town of Patchwork (an actual bayou town) had had a radio that could pick up the Radioactive station, and they were south of here, even farther from the signal than we were now. I tried to remember what had been different about their radio. It had been the same model, but something about it was different... The antenna! Their antenna had been twice as long ours. It made sense. The antenna found the signal, so using a bigger antenna must allow for a larger range. All I needed to do was extend our antenna! (I know this may seem like kiddie stuff, but gimme a break. I was eight.) I unbent the coat-hanger with my magic, creating a metal rod about twice as long as the current antenna. I held it up against out antenna and heard... nothing. But I wasn't done yet. I turned the tuner through all the frequencies, and finally, finally, I heard something. "–eports of Sombra's Leg– –lanning to march east to–" Even with the patchy signal, I recognized the raspy voice as Golden Mike's, the DJ for Radioactive. Excellent. Just by holding the rod up to the antenna, I was enhancing the reception. I scratched my scruffy, blue maned head in thought. If I were to actually attach it... Two minutes and several strips of duct tape later, the rod was connected. The signal improved substantially. "–but with elections coming up, President Tongue ha– –omething about them Legionaries right quick. But enough– –depressing ole crock 'a shit. Time– –tunes. Here's an oldie but a goody, sung b– –nchanting Sweetie Belle." Better, but still not up to my standards. I powered down the radio as I set to work removing the duct tape. It took me a few tries, but I managed to summon a blue flame from my dad's gas torch. He usually used it for welding, and would sometimes lend it to a professional for trickier jobs, like soldering electronics . I'd seen it used enough times that I felt comfortable handling it. I held the torch in my mouth while I levitated the extended hanger up to the antenna. Slowly, I traced the tip of the flame from bottom to top of the antenna, firmly securing the extension. The tool grew hot in mouth, but I persevered. I wasn't going to quit this close to success. After finishing, I waited a few minutes for the elongated receptor to cool. Once it stopped glowing, I jiggled the antenna with my telekinesis to test its strength. I was surprised to find that if anything, I'd actually made the antenna more resilient. And then came the moment of truth. Would I get a consistent signal? I switched the radio on. "–asn't that a wonderful song, folks? Not many can hold a candle to the lovely Miss Belle." YES! Finally, something to listen to! "And I oughtta know, I dated the gal myself. You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but I was quite the looker back then. But enough about this old fart, let's get to my favorite segment: Rumors of the Wasteland! "If you're just tuning in now, you're listening to Radioactive Radio, with yer host, the Coolest Ghoul in School, Golden Mike, talking Rumors of the Wasteland. But bare this in mind: nothing in this segment is confirmed, so we won't be going into too much detail. Don't take anything said here to heart. With that out of the way: rumors! We got some juicy ones today folks! "First up are some strange sightings in the Old Canterlot ruins. You know, that huge pile of rubble north of Glyphmark. Multiple reports of Pink Cloud acting strange-like. In this ghoul's humble opinion, gas shouldn't be acting any way at all. But we've got stories here of the individual pockets gas moving against the wind and away from the ruins, like it's got its own plans. Spooky stuff. Hopefully this rumor is just the result of some druggy hyped up on too much dash or an overactive imagination, but since there are multiple reports, seems unlikely. Just another reason to stay away from them ruins, because honestly, you'd do well to be steering clear of there anyway. Pink Cloud is nasty enough without it thinking. "Sheesh, that was depressing. This next rumor oughtta lighten the mood a bit. Seems that the ole NCR (that's New Canterlot Republic for you neophytes out there) has finally gotten its hooves on a new energy source. At least it looks that way. I got a report from a trusted (not to mention rusted) source that Junction Town kicked its energy cell conservation program last week. Best assumption I can make is that they found something to take the place of energy cells. Maybe they got the Hope Facility up and running. 'Bout time the politicians up there did something about it. We'll probably have confirmation of this rumor in a matter of days, so stay tuned! "One last rumor before wrapping up this segment. This one's a weirdy. Got a solitary report of some sort of sea monster in the submerged ruins of New Horsleans. The mare described it as some sort of... 'Gorilla Whale'. Now I can't say I've ever come across anything like that in my travels, but with the power of radiation, anything is possible, so be careful out there." During the last rumor, a weird whooshing noise echoed through my head, and my vision blurred a bit. "That just about does it for rumors this week. Just to recap, stay away from the Canterlot Rubble-Pile, a preemptive congrats to the NCR on their new power supply, and watch out for Gorilla Whales. And now, back to that sweet, sweet, music I know you're craving." I was glad to get back to the music. Most of the rumors concerned stuff happening way north of here. The only rumor nearby was the Gorilla Whale in New Horsleans, and I doubted anyone believed that. A new song was starting up when I heard my mom's voice. "Revamp, honey, I'm baaack! I got you some Sparkle Co... hey, what's that voice? Is there someone in there wit–" she poked her head into the wagon "–oh, you got the radio to get a signal, that's great, sweetie. Now, why don't you help me unpa– SWEET MOTHER OF FUCK! RUMMY, GET OVER HERE!" "Woah Mom, what–" before I could finish, her arms were wrapped around my neck in a fierce choke-hold, my face squishing up against her's. "Oh-honey-I'm-so-so-so-proud-of-you-why-didn't-you-come-get-us-I-wish-I-had-a-camera-oh-your-dad's-gonna-be-SO-surprised–" My dad came running, a look of panic on his face. "Knicky, what's wrong? Is it raiders? Bandits? Sombra's Legion?" Mom turned to dad, her eyes wet. "Look, Rummage! Look at our son!" "Is there something wrong with him? What are yo– oh, oh wow! Congratulations, sport." Mom finally let me out of her snuggly death grip. My parents beamed down at me. After gaping at them a few moments, I found my voice. "Uh, thanks? What did I do?" Mom's eyes widened in comprehension. "Oh, he doesn't know he's got it yet! So cute!" "What, what've I got?" I asked, frantic. "Knicky, stop teasing him. Look at your flank, Revamp." I glanced back. Among the sweaty, disheveled black fur, was– "My cutie mark!" My dad pulled me in a for a noogie. "Nice job, buck. But what does it mean? A blue flame?..." "Um, I tried working on the radio earlier to get some reception. I got some of your tools and and fixed it up pretty good. The last tool I used was the torchy-thingy. Oh, maybe I'm good at torching things!" "That might be a bit... specific, honey. Perhaps it's a cutie mark for... repair," my mom piped up. My dad considered this for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Sounds about right. But honestly, what are we doing out here talking for? Let's celebrate with some grub." While we were eating the food mom procured at the store that afternoon, we continued the conversation of my new cutie mark. "This is a perfect set-up, I'm telling you! I find the tech, Revamp here fixes it up, and you sell it! A perfect combo for maximum profit! What do you think, Knicky?" "I think that sounds just fine. I may need to find him some electronics manuals, though. It's amazing that he got that radio back into such pristine condition without one! If he wants to fix something more complicated, he'll need more than just guesswork and luck to get it up and running." "Yeah, and maybe we could find someone to teach him spells for that kind of thing. I know this unicorn in Prairieville that I grew up with, knew a great welding spell, bet I could convince him to give Revamp lessons– what do you think, buddy?" "Pretty cool, I guess." Overhauling the radio had been surprisingly enjoyable. I was more than happy to do get more stuff up and running, and learn to do it better. "Great! We'll have you doing pro repair jobs in no time! Just you wait!" Even though I traveled a lot back then, my perspective of the world was small: we stayed in areas that were mostly free of the wasteland's usual horrors. Back then, I would have been perfectly happy spending the rest of my life finding old piles of junk that didn't work and getting them up and running again. I wish that time could've lasted longer.