Jacob Burns and the Order of the Algorithm #Wattys2017

Chapter 17: A Eulogy for Jacob Burns

"What's the matter, Burnsie? Ain't you got nothing to say?" That horrible rasping voice spoke up again, snapping me back to reality. Hancock leered gleefully over the podium, his flesh dangling from his face as that yellow-toothed smirk spread wide, "Now don't tell me you've gone and forgotten what happened to our dear friends at the Railroad? Why, considering what the Institute did to it, I figured you could relate... Tell me, Burnsie, who do you think got it worse? The Railroad or your boys? Because I'd always thought a quick explosion would be the way to go, but then I realized that not all the Brotherhood would have died on impact. Can you imagine? Surviving an attack like that only to drown in the bay below... But let's gets serious, after all, this whole question is a bit of a joke... I mean, how can anyone compare the loss of a few misguided outcasts to that of a thousand drowned rats?"

A surge of rage ripped through me as I jumped to my feet, more than ready to settle this thing once and for all, but it was clear Hancock had no intention of taking me on himself. Before I knew it, there were a dozen hands forcing me to the ground amid the cheers and jeers of the crowd. I cursed myself for being baited so easily, but then again, Hancock always did know how to push my buttons...

"Predictable as always, Burnsie..." He chuckled as he pulled out an old carton of cigarettes and placed one between his sore-ridden lips, making sure to enjoy a nice, long drag before speaking again.

"And see," he continued in between puffs, "That's the problem right there... After all, the Railroad had known what they were getting into, how could they not? Everyone had warned them not to trust the synths, but they wouldn't listen, insisting that beneath all those microchips and artificial flesh lied the soul of a man. They all knew so much better, and the rest of us? Well, we were just being unfair, bigots even... and if only we would take the synths in and give them a home, a life, a future, then you'd see. They're just like us, yearnin' to be free..."

"Of course, you and I both know that's nothin' but a crock of shit. The Railroad should've gotten a clue to that when they had to reprogram the damn things in the first place! It really was their own fault in the end. No one to blame but themselves, no matter how good their intentions may have been. Oh, how we had laughed it up when we'd gotten the news. Of course, the Institute had infiltrated their ranks... How could they not when the Railroad had practically invited the enemy willingly into their arms? All of us in Goodneighbor just sat back and had a good long laugh at what gullible suckers those high-and-mighty synth-lovers really were. Because when it comes down to it, there just ain't no trusting a thing like that. It's what they are. It's just what they do... what they were made to do."

"Which brings me back to you, Burnsie... Because you see, our tale is very much the same. Everyone had told me not to trust you, not to let you in, and I gave you a chance anyway. But there is one thing different about our story, Jacob. I'm not going to let you do me in... You ain't about to be the loose end that turns into a noose around my neck..."

Suddenly, a pair of hands hooked my arms behind my back, holding me in place as Hancock smiled that hideous smile. The ghoul took another lazy drag from his cigarette before he whipped out a switchblade and began to twirl it between his fingertips. Before I knew it, he had jumped down from the podium and was bearing down on me with knife in hand.

"You know Jacob," he said lazily as he walked, "I didn't want to have to kill you, I really didn't. I'd honestly hoped you'd have kept your word and we could have just put this whole ugly mess behind us, after all, I'm sure there's plenty of assholes out there that would enjoy this a lot more than me, but as I told you before... A good neighbor always pays his debts."

"Y-you don't have to do this, Hancock!" I cried out desperately as I began to shake, sweat pouring down my back as I begged for my life, "I'm telling you the truth, I swear! There is another vault out there, bigger than any other and beyond our wildest dreams, and... and I can prove it!" I blurted out without thinking, but it seemed to work. Hancock stopped playing with the knife and glared. Before I knew it, he was inches from my face so close I could smell the necrosis.