The Goggles Do Nothing

The next morning I set out to the east in an attempt to locate whatever prompted the prospectors to set up a base of operations in this little ravine. It’s no time at all before I stumble onto a train track running north to south. And it doesn’t take long from there to locate a train platform, which is infinitely less interesting then it sounds, because I recognise it as one I’d discovered previously. It’s the same small station that I stayed at when fleeing Goodsprings months and months ago… and the same one I stayed at during my pilgrimage back.
By the time I march back to the prospector’s cave, I’ve used up the better part of a day. Rather than risk a night out in the desert I spend the rest of the day drinking sweet, sweet scotch and reading the lock-picking book I found here yesterday.

Next morning Ed-e and I try heading more to the south-west, in hope of avoiding areas I’d previously traversed. I scramble over a few rocky inclines, Ed-e bobbing along behind me, but even with a little extra height I’m unable to spy any ruin or building that would have been of particular interest to the prospector clan.
There does seem to be some hot-pools to the south, I could probably get there with a minimum of fuss.


What in the name of Vault Tec is that?!

Getting to the pools did not require a minimum of fuss. It required quite a lot of fuss.
The terrain seemed almost specifically designed to prevent me getting to my destination… and once I did find a way through, I had spent so much time focusing on path finding through the rocky outcrops that I had totally failed to pay attention to Ed-e’s scanner readouts. Which is a shame, because I suddenly found myself pinned down behind a rock, while some giant pink monstrosity pelted acidic blobs down towards me.
Ed-e was, of course, sending volleys of laser fire back up towards it, but unlike the lightly armour raiders, this pink monster wasn’t at all worried about a few little laser bolts. But even if the laser isn’t hurting the damn thing, it is a wonderful distraction, and whenever it turns to try and shoo off Ed-e, I pop out from behind the rock and send a few bullets rattling up the hillside.
Eventually the thing shudders out a last dying breath and slumps forward, its corpse sliding down the hillside.
With the monstrosity defeated Ed-e and I can press forward, but the minute we do my pip-boy starts to tick madly away to itself… radiation.

A little radiation isn’t a game breaker, and I come prepared. At all times I carry a single tablet of Rad-X… just in case. With the wonder-drug providing some measure of protection I foolishly press forward.

Ze gogglez! Zay do nothing!

Ze gogglez! Zay do nothing!

As I get closer to the hot pools the radiation increases, and I’m no closer to finding anything worth prospecting.
Looking into the depths of the pools I can make out shapes under the surface, however any curiosity is quickly squelched by the sky-high radiation level of the water. Even dipping a toe in causes the rad counter on the pip-boy to go totally nuts.
Looking around, I think I can see some sort of camp site in the distance, but Ed-e’s radar is picking up more hostiles in that region… and I’m currently getting a radiation bath here.
And then the Rad-X gives out.
The needle on my pip-boy jumps from three to six rads a second and the health check suggest that I’m getting a potentially lethal dose. I suddenly feel light headed and nauseous, and I run back down the mountain.

At the foot of the hills I check my pip-boy again and it confirms that while I’ve stopped absorbing additional radiation, I’ve already absorbed a pretty worrying amount. It’s no wonder I’m feeling weak. And like I’m about to vomit. And like there is something in my head trying to scratch it’s way out.
Also, apparently, my last drink of scotch is about to wear off and I’m about to get a crushing hangover… so that’s nice too.

I’m not too far from Primm so a little hustle and I’m able to make it there by nightfall. Weak, sick and hung over, I call in a favour from the local NCR troopers and crash the night in the sheriff’s home.
The NCR trooper looking after the place seemed strangely nonplussed when Joe crawled into the old sheriff’s bed, and not even the memory of the two headless corpses that once lay here was enough to stop me blacking out almost immediately.
Regretfully, it turns out that a good night’s sleep did NOT make everything seem better in the morning. Rather than hang about in Primm there is one obvious place to go – Doc Marshall.
I try to ignore the need to vomit and start out to the north.

It takes the bulk of the next day to haul my sorry butt from Primm to Goodsprings. It’s a fairly uneventful , not least because I make an effort to avoid geckos and anything else that might be even a little bitey. I only stop briefly to get a drink as I pass the Goodspring springs – the water is clean, fresh and free… also it makes my head fell a little better.

As soon as I make it to town I have a beeline for the doctor’s office – luckily he was happy to meet me for a consultation.

He's the one they call doctor Feelgood. He's the on that's gonna make ya feel alright.

He's the one they call doctor Feelgood.
He's the one that makes ya feel alright.

Good thing for me, Doc Mitchell is happy to help… for a small fee. I don’t begrudge him that – after all he saved my life for free once. He deserves the repeat custom.
And he has just the thing… apparently he can flush the radiation right out of my body.

Before he begins he also notes my hangover and signs of ongoing addiction. It’s not going to kill me any bad soon – but it’s sure as hell not helping.
He suggests a special rehab that could cure my addiction to scotch… there would be a catch. I wouldn’t be able to drink scotch again, or there is a good chance the addiction could reoccur.

Hmmmmmmmmm, this bears further consideration.


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