6 Stock and Planning

Codsworth informed us that it was 5:30 PM when we "retired" to bed, but I was abruptly awoken during the night by the relentless banging of four bloatflies against the house wall. Before I could react, Codsworth swiftly took matters into his own hands. With unwavering determination, he charged at the pests full thruster, delivering a powerful body bash to two while unleashing flames from his flamethrower on the other. In a display of remarkable agility, he then deftly sliced through the remaining insect with his saw like in Fruits Ninja. With his steel pliers he did a "COME OVER HERE" like Scorpion and put them under his reactor to disintegrate the ones he bashed. 

"Fucking hell, Codsworth! You're a goddamn badass!" I exclaimed, thoroughly impressed by his swift action. He turned to me with a jovial demeanor and replied, "But it's my pleasure, Mister. I was made to serve you and your family!"

"Call us by our names, Cods. You're family too now. What time is it currently?" I inquired as we made our way back into the house.

"It's 2:40 AM, sir. Outside, the temperature is 9°C, and the air is dry. My weather data analysis indicates that clouds will be scarce, with temperatures warming up to 23°C by 6:50 AM. However, caution is advised as temperatures are expected to rise to 43°C between 11:30 AM and 3:00 PM, with a risk of a nuclear storm at 10:00 PM. Be careful," he responded promptly and precisely, as always.

Returning to the bedroom, I found Nora and Shaun still sound asleep. Satisfied that they were resting peacefully, I made my way back to Codsworth and settled onto the remarkably well-preserved couch.

"When did you exit the bunker Codsworth? I distinctly remember instructing you to remain there. And do you have any knowledge about the condition of the items stored inside?" I inquired.

"Apologies, sir, but my memory data bank contains an order inscribed with the directive: 'Use fully the MR. HANDY FUEL we already opened before beginning the stock, Codsworth. - Nora 'ADMINISTRATOR','" he explained. "At the time, the opened can was in the storeroom next to the washing machine in the house, so I was simply following her orders."

He began by stating, "The cardboard and plastic food containers inside the airtight storeroom are safe for consumption, with the canned food being free of botulism. Unfortunately, all the food outside that storeroom perished. I took the perished supplies out of the bunker. Of the 20-year food stockpile for three people, we have approximately eight years' worth left. As for the 43,800 liters of water stored, a third of it became irradiated and is now stored in the neighbor's cave.

"Regarding energy, he continued, "Two fusion cores were used, but we still have four remaining at 100% capacity, which should suffice for another 400 years.

"Finally, he concluded, "The entry experienced water leaks three times, and the safe room, which stored valuable mementos and weapons, suffered some damage due to dampness from the leaks. However, the money is safe. While wooden furniture rotted and iron rusted, steel items remained intact. In the armory, the army fatigue and armor are intact. Although three hunting rifles rusted, an AR-15 chambered in 5.56, a Bren Ten chambered in 10mm, and a Beretta 93R in 9mm are all intact. The box of 20 hand grenades rusted and was unsafe, so it has been relocated. Additionally, there are remaining ammunition boxes for 9mm and 10mm (with 25 bullets per box and 50 boxes, totaling 1,250 bullets) and one box of 5.56 ammunition (with 20 bullets per box, totaling 400 bullets). The rusted and unsafe ammunition has also been stored in a separate location."

As he finishes, a breath of relief escapes my lungs. There's potential here; no immediate need to scavenge for food, but we must reinforce and secure Sanctuary against potential threats. It's a large area, and there could be ghouls or other dangers lurking nearby. We need to proceed with caution.

Considering our options, I retrieve my Pip-Boy from my bag and begin to carefully explore its functions.

Seating myself once more, I manipulate the device, attempting to learn more about its capabilities. However, I encountered a restriction indicating "User Life Signal Unknown/Not Found."

Scratching my chin in thought, I decide to strap the Pip-Boy onto my left forearm and navigate to the settings section. Clicking on "UPDATE," I feel a stinging sensation as a small needle pricks me. "Ow! Damn," I mutter, taken aback. The screen fades to black, and a Vault Boy on a computer animation appears, indicating that data is being compiled.

After waiting for what feels like at least 20 minutes, the Vault Boy gives me a wink and a thumbs-up before revealing a menu similar to the one from the game. There's a map, radio, stats, and more.

I explore the radio options, finding familiar stations like Diamond City Radio, along with several others I don't recognize, each with its own numerical designation.

Moving on to the inventory section, I realize I need to input the data for the items I possess. It's not a magical storage space, but rather a digital representation of what I carry, with the option to scan items using the built-in torch.

As I delve into the Stats list, I'm met with an image of a crippled Vault Boy wearing a cast and bandages. Below, in bold letters, reads: "SICK >> Cryo-Sickness: Diagnostic…"

"Oh, damn… I rolled a 1…"