The Resurrection of Betamax (Eve of Destruction) (Fallout AU) (Patreon)

Welcome to Sony America Headquarters (EST Feb 15, 1960!)

Nancy Steinbeck cringed when she saw the faded sign, the ‘Sony’ made out of big, blocky hunks of metal, the white paint having chipped away in pieces and the Y being slightly ajar. Her new place of work.

It hung off the slightly dilapidated building in the same way a man desperate not to fall might hang off a cliff. Taking a deep breath, the scientist walked to the revolving doors and pushed her way in.

The lobby was small, the walls covered in yellow, nicotine stained wallpaper. Behind a desk, the receptionist sat, a older woman in a sundress and jacket with hair tied into a bun, hawkish face curved into a frown. “Welcome to Sony of America, how can I help you?” They said, giving a sigh as they lowered their book.

“Hi, my name is Nancy Steinbeck-”

“Ah, the new chief research technician,” The woman said, nodding, frown not disappearing. Maybe that was just her natural disposition, Nancy mused.”Elevators are to the right, you’ll want Basement Level 2.”

“Oh, uh, thank you, Miss-”

“Agnes,” They said, returning to their reading. “I’d make nice, but between you and me, I’d start looking for alternative options: betting pool for how long this company is gonna last maxes out at ten months.”

“Would if I could, Miss Agnes, would if I could,” Nancy sighed as she walked to the elevator, setting the box of personal effects in her arms down long enough to press a button. A few moments later, it opened, and Nancy stepped inside, pressing the button and watching the doors slide shut.

A short journey later, she stepped out into the labs, which consisted of a collection of tables, shelves, workbenches, and machinery scattered around an open floor, the handful of researchers still employed working with various gadgets.

“Ah, you must be my replacement!”

One of the researchers approached her, a short old man: eastern in ethnicity, and balding, what remained of their hair large and poofy. Dressed in a labcoat and approaching with a cane in one hand, the scientist trundled up to Nancy, adjusting their goggles. “Greetings, I am Doctor Morimoto!” He said, cheerfully.

“Ah, Doctor Steinbeck, nice to meet you. Sorry about the whole taking your job thing,” She said sheepishly.

“Please, it is no issue,” The man said, chuckling. “I am still employed, and frankly I’m too old to be doing all the work the position requires.” He gestured at the far wall, which had several doors connected. “Personal offices are over there: the ones that are empty will have no name on them. You may place your personal possessions there: then, I will call down the CEO, so we can all discuss your future at Sony.”

<>

“You don’t have a future at Sony because Sony doesn’t have a future,” The CEO, Jon Hamwell, said bluntly, causing Nancy and Motomori to both cringe. “We only existed to sell products researched and developed in Japan, and Japan doesn’t exist anymore.”

“I…but…” Nancy said, struggling with her words as the trio of them sat in her office. “What do you mean no future?”

“Said what I meant. Fact of the matter is, only reason we can afford to keep the lights on is because of holo-tape sales, and even then we’re still operating at a deficit bad enough that we’ll probably need to shutter in a year.” Hamwell said, taking a puff from his cigarette.

“Thats…Why did you even hire me then?!”

“I didn’t. The Board did,” Hamwell noted. “At Doctor Motomori’s insistence, might I add. I’m just stuck with their choices until this heap finally goes under,” They said, releasing a puff of smoke.

Nancy Steinbeck felt a pang of despair: her last resort, and it was going to go bankrupt. “What if we developed a new product?” She said, desperately. “Something we can sell?”

“With what money?” The CEO said frankly. “I just told you we don’t have a cash flow. The fact we have a research department at all at this point is for tax write off purposes.”

“Sir, I know you don’t have much faith, but you could at least try to let her down gently,” Morimoto muttered, causing Hamwel to roll his eyes.

“Better she know the situation now, Morimoto,” Hamwell muttered, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray Nancy had set up. “Look, Miss Steinbeck, you seem like a nice woman. Sorry you had to find out this way, but unfortunately Sony got left behind by the world a long time ago: the last time we were relevant was back when we could at least sell cassettes.”

<<>>

Morimoto polished his glasses as he stepped off the elevator, giving a yawn. It had been a week or so since the conversation where Jon had crushed his successors hopes. The day after, Nancy had came in, queried the team on their research, and began to work.

The days after, Morimoto had come down with a cold, forcing him to stay home for a spell. He was feeling better now, enough to attend work with a facemask at least, especially since one of his former employees called him with an emergency.

“Doc, good you came,” Came the voice of Maylene-kohai, one of the most brilliant botonists and engineers the Doctor had ever known, if one completely incapable of bending that brilliance towards work. “Boss came in a few days ago, hasn’t left: I don’t think she’s even slept, to be honest. She’s building a…I dunno…Thing?”

“I will handle this, Maylene,” Morimoto said, giving a nod, placing his glasses on as he looked down the workspace, spotting his successor, seated upon a rolling chair, fiddling about with a strange, almost humanoid frame. She looked gaunt, pale, with deep dark bags under her eyes, and seemed to be covered with bits of magnetic tape. “Doctor Steinbeck?” He inquired, walking closer. “I am being told you are working yourself to death: is this true?”

Steinbeck let out a laugh that was profoundly devoid of humor. “Absolutely! You’d be surprised what the human body can do with the right cocktail of stimulants! Morimoto, where have you been? It’s been seven months!”

“It’s been four days,” Morimoto said, slightly horrified. “You need to rest, otherwise you’ll send yourself to an early grave!”

“I can sleep then, but right now I have however long until this company goes belly up to develop with no budget some kind of product they can sell unless I want to wind up on the street, or worse, apologizing to someone.” They giggled, pushing themselves away and into a spin, holding out an envelope that would come to rest inches away from Morimoto’s face. “I’ve assigned everyone specific projects based on their areas of expertise and what resources we have available.”

Hesitantly, the doctor took the ledger, opening it. Televisions. Music players. Cameras. Even robots. “These are an ambitious set of projects,” He said, dubiously.

“I’m paying out of my own salary for most of these: for the next few months I’m gonna have to live here and subsist on crackers, but its better than the alternative. Anyways, it’s not gonna be as expensive as you think because I have a way we can make it work!” Steinbeck wheeled herself around, pushing herself next to a blank chalk-board.

“At first, I was in a pit of absolute despair, but when I actually put my mind to it, I realized Mr. Hamwel had given me the solution to our problems.” She flipped the board, revealing its reverse to have a single word written on it.

CASSETTES.

“...You want to try and revive a dead format?” Morimoto said, confused.

“Yes! Back before holo-tapes, cassettes were barely getting off the ground: they didn’t have time to iterate on the technology or techniques used to make them before they were obsoleted, but I think that we might be able to apply several of the methods used to manufacture them to make our own brand of holo-tape, ones capable of doing five times the amount other brands manage!” She giggled again, and it almost sounded like sobs. “We’d be able to store over ten times the data at a fraction of the cost of floppies! Music! Cinema! Home Video! Even games and robots!”

Morimoto frowned. “Miss Steinbeck, I understand you feel like you’re under-pressure, but please do not kill yourself for this job,” He said, sighing. “Still, I understand your frustration: where do you want me?”

“Okay so I need you with Schneider: you get to work on programming the C-1: we don’t need anything fancy, this is just so we can demo it to get investors, then we can invest in getting a full set of tapes out,” She muttered, returning on working on the robotic frame even as Morimoto checked the folder for his project: it seemed that the C-1 was the working name for the machine Steinbeck was attempting to produce.

“Very well,” Morimoto said, closing the folder. “But promise me that once we have a demonstrative prototype available you’ll finally rest.”

“Abso-posi-tivo-lutely!” Nancy said, muttering as she installed what looked like a tape-player in the machines torso. “Just need to get things stable…”

<<<>>>

“And so, I present to you the C-2!” Morimoto said, pulling the sheet off the machine, revealing it to the crowd of potential investors from across the nation: the Department of Preservation, Lasko Security, and others yet besides.

The C-2 was a simple design: a simple tripod kept in the air by a trio of many-segmented legs, with a pair of graspers on either side. For its eye, it had a hidden camera installed on its underside, though it also had two decorative white lenses with black dots in the center on its body that served as ‘eyes’ for the user to look at while interacting with the automaton as well as buttons, which was painted yellow, its body having a simple line smile painted below each ‘eye’ where the cassette reader was located.

“Using a proprietary form of holo-cassette technology developed by my colleague Dr. Nancy Steinbeck, the C-2 is cheap and versatile,” Morimoto said as an aid brought out a pair of tapes and a box of items, which the scientist held in the air for all of them to see, before inserting one into the reader even as the aid began putting the items from the box on the table. “For half the cost of a Protectron, you can have a robot that can work in a factory…”

The bot moved forward, stepping up to the table, graspers reaching out and taking the objects, rapidly assembling them together to create a small device: a camera. Setting it down, the robot took two steps back, as it was programmed to do when it finished assembling all objects. Pressing its left eye, the tape popped out, which Motomori took, replacing it with another tape. “Or security.”

The robot began to scuttle towards a specific purpose off the stage and down into the audience: a plant the professor had put in the audience for the demonstration. “As you are aware, all of you were issued keycards when you entered. Watch what happens if the person doesn’t have a keycard.”

“GREETING CITIZEN,” The robot said in a pre-recorded voice: Motomori had used his own for this. “I AM NOT DETECTING A KEYCARD ON YOUR PERSON. IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A KEYCARD, I AM AFRAID I WILL HAVE TO ESCORT YOU BACKSTAGE.”

“Now, anyone can slap a gun on a robot and call it a day, but we at Sony realize not all security breaches warrant such an extreme and potentially law-suit inducing measure: as such, the C-2 is capable of removing trespassers and disabling criminals entirely non-lethally. Watch.”

“Hey, I paid good money for this ticket,” The Actor he hired lied. “You can’t throw me out, and I’m not leaving!”

“NON-COMPLIANCE DETECTED! RESORTING TO CITIZENS ARREST!” The robot said, picking up the actor and hoisting them overhead like they weighed nothing as they began to scuttle up the stage and away.

“Now, we’ve programmed this tape so that he will simply deposit our paid volunteer backstage, but when we begin the full-roll out, users will be able to use our terminals to select where they want potential trespassers placed. And these are only the beginning: we are also looking to use them in domestic work, construction, and more; the only limit to what they can be used for is how much time we spend programming their tapes,” He said to a chorus of mutters. They were interested: good. If they could get even one of these people to help them get this off the ground… “I will now be taking questions,” He said, watching as a wave of hands went up, before pointing at one. “You, in the blue suit.”

“Dan Maybell, DoP Logistics: you say this is going to be cheaper than the protectron model?” The man asked, baby blue eyes boring into the scientists. “How about performance? Do you expect it to match existing models on the market?”

Can you convince me it’s worth the cost to invest?

“Mostly: the robots aren’t as adaptable and while our compression techniques mean that we can pack a large amount of responses, they’re still finite,” The scientist admitted. “However, they should be comparable enough that the versatility and sheer affordability will more than make up for their limitations. Now you, there, in the sweater.”

“Robert Engelwood, CEO of Engelwood Lumber: these robots, do you have a location in mind for where you want to start manufacturing them?”

“Several: our head of research has even managed to secure a loan to get the ground broken on one such site using her own funds,” Morimoto said, smiling. “She has such absolute confidence that she wants for the ability to begin manufacturing these robots the moment we have the first set of cassettes ready for distribution. You, in the hat.”

Another set of mutters, some confident: the head of research surely wouldn’t go out on such a risk if this wasn’t a sure thing. Some not: it was a risky move to do it before a sellable product was ready, and if it didn’t work, it would bankrupt her.

“John Mackenzie, Chicago Tribune: and where is the head of research anyways?” The reporter asked, a hint of skepticism in their voice.

“Ah, Miss Steinbeck isn’t feeling well; a cold. For everyone elses safety she is currently resting at home,” He said simply, causing another wave of mutters. And so the questions continued. Some approving, some not. Glancing to the side, just off the stage Morimoto saw Jon give a frown as he watched the audience.

Eventually, the questions, then the demonstration, ended, and Morimoto found himself shuffled backstage even as Maylene-sama wheeled a television out to begin demonstrating their ‘video cassette tape’ technology.

“Well. The good news is you’re getting a budget, at least,” Hamwel muttered as the pair walked backstage. “Dunno if it’ll be enough to save the company, though- investors are gonna bite, but we still need to be profitabl-”

“NO WE DON’T!”

“Jesus Christ!” Hamwel said, nearly jumping out of his skin as Nancy appeared beside him, looking half dead, giving a giggle. “What the- God, Nancy, you look fucking TERRIBLE.”

“I haven’t slept for a month!” Nany said, staggering, eye twitching, and Morimoto had to agree with Hamwel: the young scientist looked like a walking corpse. “But I’ve spent that time productively! Did you know the DoP offers SEVERAL grants?” she giggled. “If we can prove that what we’re developing is of strategic importance to America’s continued survival after an apocalyptic scenario, we can secure a small grant to expand development! Further, I checked and if we develop an agriculture tape or two, we also qualify for a regular subsidy to help cover manufacturing costs! All we need to do is break even and we win!” She let out a cackle, causing Hamwel to cringe.

“Yeah, no. Go home, Steinbeck, take a week off,” He said, sighing, causing Nancy to to give a sob.

“I can’t: I still need to finish programming the janitor cassette, get the production prototype on our new camera finished, create the military peripherals-’ Nancy said.

“That wasn’t a request, that was an order,” Hamwel said, causing the scientist to freeze. “I don’t know what the hell all this is, but what ever it is, I don’t want to see it again: rest. I’ll look into these grants, and Morimoto can cover for you in the lab, but if you die it opens us up to a dozen lawsuits.”

“I...But…”

“Kid, if I have to say it again I’m gonna have security enforce this. You aren’t any use to us dead,” they drawled. “Look, the company isn’t gonna go under, especially not with the grants you mentioned and the investors we’re gonna get. You’ve earned a vacation: relax.”

“Besides, we will likely need to talk to the board about this regardless,” Morimoto noted. “If they are amenable, we might actually walk out of this with more funding.”

Nancy deflated a bit. “Oh. Okay, I suppose. I…am pretty tired,” She admitted. “Alright. Can one of you help me back to my apartment? I’m a little under the weather.”

<<<<>>>>

“Betamax Brand Cassettes.”

Steinbeck shrugged. “What you name them isn’t any of my business: marketing isn’t my forte, I just build what people want to buy.” She was feeling better now: it had been a few months, and with the increased budget and lack of gut gnawing worry she had been able to sleep more.

“Hmm,” Morimoto hummed as he tapped away at the terminal, working on programming the bot cassette for car mechanic. The intervening months had seen the team, now expanded three fold, working to develop everything they would need to perform a massive, nationwide release of the various cassette products. Ten cassette bot tapes, five home movies, a video game console with its own proprietary control device, a music player that could be installed on Pip-Buddies alongside a tape reader, a new television and camera model… “Is there a reason they don’t intend to release under the name Sony?”

Hamwel shrugged. “Marketing wants to keep that reserved for non-cassette appliances; the board is debating opening up a new division solely for ‘em. Even some discussion about opening our own studio to create films we can sell. They figured Betamax would be a good brand name for the actual tapes and players.” He paused to scratch his chin. “Back before holo-tapes, it was the name we used for the cassettes the company used to make. Plays well with the puff pieces we’ll be buying.”

“Mmm. Anything else?” Nancy said, stepping away from the machine: it was a television, though one with a screen larger than any one could buy on the open market, with a pair of antennas sticking out of the top.

“Mmm. The board have also asked me to inform you that we’re increasing your budget by ten million dollars.” Nancy paused. That…was a lot. Not as much as it used to be, what with inflation, but it should allow her to to hire a few more people, create another team she could throw at one of the various projects she was working on. “They also would like to make an offer: the DoP sent us a contract, one that if you agree to would permit them to increase that to fifty million.”

Holy- “What-What’s the project?” She said, giving a dry swallow.

((((()))))

Steinbeck looked out the window. A swarm of cassette bots laboured, slowly assembling together a Data Vault, an octagonal structure that presently was merely a skeleton of girders and concrete. A short distance away, a factory sat, more cassette bots emerging, either to join construction or to load themselves on the freighter ships on the docks.

Betamax City. Fifteen square miles of prime Florida Coast populated entirely by cassette-bots and Sony employees and affiliates. The DoP leased them the land cheap once they had the construction cassette bots ready to deploy. A radio broadcast tower, a laser battery, nuclear power plant, docks, train-yard, and collection of factories and bunkers, skyscrapers, and security towers.

The full plan was to fortify the area and turn it into a theoretical hub of technology in the area when the bombs dropped.

When. Not if. Her DoP liason had been clear about that: they did not expect civilization to survive longer than a few more years before the nuclear apocalypse. The board had put her in charge, impressed at her ability to generate them money: they were currently housed below the docks, with their own small submersible.

Steinbeck raised her glass of wine, taking a sip, hand trembling. Every so often, her eyes glanced to the sky, and she kept imagining the sounds of sirens. After several minutes of this, she found herself startled by the phone ringing.

Giving a dry swallow, she walked to the phone, picking the receiver up off her desk. “Dr. Steinbeck, Betamax Head of Research.”

“Nancy? It’s me, Motomori!” Came the voice of her former co-worker, and Nancy smiled.

“Matsuda!” She said, smiling a bit. “It’s nice to hear from you! What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, I am calling you to let you know- I have managed to acquire space in a Strategic Personnel Depot!”

“Thats great!” Nancy said, grinning. Sure, it wasn’t nearly as luxurious or high quality as Vault Tec, but she had seen the SPD’s plans, they were second to none in terms of safety and reliability. “I’m really happy for you, Motomori.”

“Ah, yes, it is good- But I did not call just to brag! I wanted to check on you: are you eating? Sleeping?”

“I’m fine,” Steinbeck said, laughing. “Really, I pull ONE month of all nighters…”

“Good, good, good.” There was something in his voice. “Do you have shelter in case of…well…”

“I…I have space reserved in an ACME Security tower,” Nancy said, smile faltering. “What’s this about, Motomori?”

The doctor hesitated. “I…cannot talk openly, or in detail. It may be nothing, but my superiors in the Department…there has been talk. Concerning talk. I am attempting to make sure all of those I consider friends are…prepared.”

She paled. “Oh. I, uh, yeah, I’m- I’m prepared.”

“Yes? You are? Good. You may want to reserve a flight, get a hotel near it. Just…just in case: if this isn’t anything but bad rumors, I will pay for the room, but…”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I’ll drive down there tonight,” Nancy muttered.

“Good, I- Damn, I’m sorry, I have to go, something in the lab just exploded. Have a good evening, Nancy, and stay safe.”

“You too, Doc,” She said, numbly, as she heard the line go dead and the dial-tone begin playing. As she stared, eyes blank, moments stretching into minutes, the devices noise almost sounded like sirens.

<<>>

Commissioned by Chellewalker, who wanted something betamax related starring Nancy Steinbeck.