It's a sunny October day - Saturday, October 23, 2077, to be exact - and life hums along in the Sanctuary Hills neighborhood of Boston. It's easier to ignore the war here than in many places. Sure, the shelves have been sparse for over a decade, and sure the news is a near constant buzz of atrocity after atrocity, and sure more than a few neighbors have sent their children off to war and received a coffin in return (if anything at all) - but all that's taboo to mention, here. The heady early days of the war when it was all anyone could talk about, when there was still hope for diplomacy - those are long gone, and now everyone would rather reality go with them.

(That doesn't mean no one thinks about it. The Vault-Tec representative has been a common sighting lately, and while it's gauche to mention if you've reserved a spot in Vault 111 in case the worst happens... Well. It's not particularly hard to figure out who will make it in the event of escalation.)

(That doesn't mean life doesn't keep running inexorably onwards. The world has never cared to protect those who ignore it. The end will come, even if the people refuse to look.)

It's just after nine in the morning, and the day is just beginning.