The neon sign was shaped like a heart. "Cute," I commented, "Valentine Detective Agency."
Upon entering, a young woman, obviously a secretary, sat typing behind a hefty desk scattered with files and papers of all descriptions. She looked up at our entrance and told us, "Just a moment, please." Motioning for us to take a seat, she called behind her. "Nick? You've got some clients!"
"Thanks, Ellie, I'll be right out."
MacCready took up a standing position directly behind me, acting the part of bodyguard quite convincingly. I had just sat down when Nick Valentine appeared from the back of the room. It was a good thing I was sitting down. He was... well, an android was the only thing I could think of, but one in very rough shape. He was tall, wearing a traditional detective's trench coat and hat, but any other resemblance to a 1950's film noir star ended there. Bright yellow irises glowed electronically at us from black eyes in a pale gray face. The skin covering that face was scarred and torn, large sections missing from the sides and neck area, metal frame and wiring visible underneath. His right hand as he pulled a chair back to sit opposite me was bare metal. Yet his expression was kind, smiling encouragingly at me. "Never seen a Synth before, kid?" he asked gruffly.
I shook my head, closing my mouth which had dropped open in surprise. "You're a detective, all right." I tried to make it a joke, but could almost sense the mental face-palm of my companion.
"Ha, good one," croaked Valentine. Geez, he even sounds like a film noir detective. "Don't worry, kid. Not many Synths in Diamond City. In fact," he added, "I'm the only one."
"Um," I began tentatively, not wanting to offend my only chance of help, but I was overwhelmingly curious. "How is a Synth different from a robot? I mean, other than the fact you look human..." I vaguely remembered Hancock and Fahrenheit having a disagreement on whether or not I was a Synth, but was too frightened at the time to give it much thought. Fahrenheit's flamethrower was a much more important thing for me to have focused on at the time.
"Hmmm," Nick stroked his gray flesh-covered left hand across his chin thoughtfully. "A Synth is about as far removed from a robot as a rocket ship is from the wheel." He gestured to his form. "I'm an older generation-two model, mind you, made of metal and wires. The generation-three Synths are indistinguishable from humans. They have flesh and blood just like you." He paused, looking up past me at MacCready. "But you're not here for a lesson, I take it. What brings you to me today?"
"Irma from Goodneighbor suggested you may be able to help me." I said.
"Irma, huh? I'm flattered she thinks so highly of me. She's a good woman." Nick smiled then, "How can ol' Nick help you out?"
"In a nutshell, I'm lost and I want to go home." Before he could say anything, I held up my hand. "I'm not from this... world. I was transported here, brought here somehow, and we need to find someone who can figure out how, and get me back. We're pretty sure my Pip-Boy has something to do with it." My voice dropped at every sentence. It sounded so outlandish, so unbelievable.
"I don't know, kid" came the honest reply. "I'm more of a 'missing persons' operation, but maybe I can point you in the right direction. Mind if I look at that Pip-Boy of yours?"
And again. I unlatched the device from my arm, handing it over to the detective. He took it, but also lightly grabbed hold of my hand. "Wait a minute there. This is part of it, too?" Fascinated, he scrutinized the wires as closely as MacCready had, going so far as to prod delicately at the line of pin receivers. "Interesting. It clips right in, does it?" At my nod, he let go of my hand to go over the Pip-Boy, his metal fingers tapping incredibly fast across the touch screen. I watched him as he examined every inch of the device, even reaching inside to test the pins. After a few long minutes, Nick refocused his attention on me.
"So, looks like you have a very unique situation here." he drawled. "What you have is undeniably a Pip-Boy, but I can tell you that it wasn't made by Vault-Tec."
I was confused, but the announcement apparently made sense to MacCready. "It wasn't?" he inquired. "I thought Vault-Tec had the lock on that technology."
"So did I," answered Nick. "I can tell you without a doubt this isn't Vault-Tec. Oh, it looks the part, all right. But I've seen my share of Pip-Boys and they are not as extensively programmed as this one is. Or even made from the same materials." He poked at the pins inside the arm band again. "None of them, and I mean none, connect directly to the wearer. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd almost say this is Institute-level sophistication. But I'm not 100% sure." He handed it back to me and I replaced the device with the familiar pulse of electricity. "I do think you're on the right track that it had something to do with your appearance here.
"As far as finding someone who can figure out how it happened..." he broke off suddenly, turning to flip through some of the files scattered across the desk. "You're looking for someone with the knowledge and resources to be able to crack an unknown high-tech device. That points to a scientist, or at least someone with an interest in that direction." He re-stacked the files, giving them a couple of taps on the desk to straighten them. "Tell ya what. Come back tomorrow and I'll see if I can dig up some information on where to find some science-y types. Sound good?"
"That's fine, Nick," I answered. What other choice did we have at this point? "Thank you very much for your help. What do I owe you?"
"Nothing right now, but if we can find what you're looking for, then we can discuss payment." He stood up and escorted us back to the alley before turning around to return to his office.
"Well," sighed MacCready, "guess we're stuck here tonight. At least we learned one thing we didn't know before." We took a seat on a wooden bench at the corner of the marketplace.
"Yes." We? I like the sound of that. I ran my fingers along the Pip-Boy, tracing the silver piping wonderingly. "This is the second time someone's mentioned the Institute. Hancock said something about them, too. Who are they?"
MacCready leaned back against the bench, crossing one leg over his knee. "No one really knows. They're the bogeymen of the Commonwealth." He shrugged nonchalantly, "Lots of rumors about them kidnapping people and replacing them with Synths. And like Nick said, the Gen 3 Synths are undetectable... only an autopsy can prove if someone is human or Synth."
"Really?" It sounded as farfetched as the technology that supposedly brought me here, but then again, who was I to judge? "Why kidnap people, just to replace them with Synth copies?"
"I don't know." He frowned, "I don't hold with breaking up families, though. That alone makes me believe the Institute, whoever they are, are not the good guys. Family is sacred."
"The good guys?" My voice cracked a little. "Who are the 'good guys' exactly?"
A bitter chuckle answered me. "Hell if I know, or care. I'm just here for the caps." He met my incredulous stare with a closed expression. "Hey, I shoot people for a living, I'm not the expert on morality. Go ask someone else."
"Hmph." I wasn't going to let that answer be, but now was not the time. I tucked away the contradiction of 'family love versus hired gun' away for later.
"Hopefully Nick will have some more information for us tomorrow," I said instead. "For tonight," and I started walking back into the market center, "any idea where we can stay?"
"I know just the place," he replied.