This overworked, underpaid, and unappreciated Brotherhood Scribe has the thankless and overwhelming task of setting up and managing the water distribution. He hasn't slept since the water purifier started working. Lyons wants water to go everywhere; the rest of the Brotherhood resents being sent on deliveries. Bigsley is caught in the middle. He agrees with those who feel they should charge for the water, to let the free market set up the distribution network, but he will follow orders as best he can. He's worked out a deal with Rivet City to use their security force supplement the Brotherhood escorts of the water caravans and hopes to soon hand over the entire distribution nightmare to Rivet City, but they seem reluctant and are having trouble with bandits. There is literally a line of acolytes outside his door with various questions, reports, armfuls of paperwork, and requests regarding the water distribution. Bigsley is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Talking to him reveals that he was kicked out of all three orders, after (he claims) the lead Scribe of each order felt threatened by his ability and intellect. For example, his modified laser rifles resulted in the wounding of some initiates (due to the initiates' inability to handle the extra power output, at least according to Bigsley). After being transferred to the Order of the Shield, he antagonized Scribe Bowditch by calling the latter's theories "outdated". He was then transferred to the Order of the Quill, where he quickly ran afoul with Scribe Jameson (who previously condemned Scribe Yearling to a life-threatening assignment at the Arlington Library for similar reasons). He also, like many others, questions Elder Lyons. In the end, he even felt that he had lost the support of Scribe Rothchild, who transferred him to the Purifier project, an assignment Bigsley feels is akin to exile.
"You take a bottle, you dunk it under water, and glug glug glug, it fills up. Amazing. But you're right a machine would help. But all the Scribes are busy reverse engineering Enclave gear. A machine that puts water in bottles just isn't on anyone's priority list at the moment."
"I started out in the Swords. I upped the output of a few Laser Rifles. Apparently some initiates couldn't handle the extra power. A few got hurt. Then I joined the Shields. Bowditch wasn't all that pleased with me proving him and his theories on forcefield resonance were a bit "antiquated." Then I found myself among the Quills. Jameson refuses to accept any fact that conflicts with her rose colored optimistic views. She likes to assign "contradictory" personalities to "field operations." Take for example myself here, or Yearling, exiled to that accursed library. I used to think Rothchild and I were on the same page. Turns out he's happy to blindly follow the old man's orders like the rest of them."
"Everyone was so excited about that Purifier: "Project Purity this," and "Project Purity that." But did anyone stop to ask, "Hey, what are we going to DO with all that clean water?" Well, guess who gets to fill in that tiny detail. It'd be one thing if I had support, but that little war with the Enclave has depleted much of the Brotherhood's resources. And to top it off, I have to be mommy to a bunch of lab coats."
"We do what we can. Take, for example, this ghoul Griffon. He wanted to PURCHASE a bunch of water. What the hell does that droopy irradiated fool need with pure water? Thinks he can sell it in Underworld. Moron. But, he's the only one who's offered to PAY for water, in caps AND technology. And what Lyons doesn't know won't hurt him. There's plenty of water to go around. And I can use it to pay Rivet City to provide security for all the caravans we can't escort ourselves. I'm lucky he came along."