This is the first time I don't actually have an idea of what I'm writing, so it might be more successful than past projects. I recently replayed Portal/Portal 2, and then my friends showed me Portal Stories: Mel and I felt a surge of inspiration.
Only warning I can think of for this chapter is mention/vague-ish descriptions of nausea/vomiting. If there's a better way to put that, or if there are any other warnings I should put here, please let me know!
INITIATING STARTUP
DETECTED HARDWARE UPGRADE. DOWNLOADING SOFTWARE AND DRIVERS…
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INSTALLING…
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INSTALLATION 24% COMPLETE…
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INSTALLATION 52% COMPLETE…
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INSTALLATION 87% COMPLETE…
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INSTALLATION 94% COMPLETE…
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ERROR: CPU INCOMPATIBLE
ERROR: OPTIC APERTURE FUNCTION INCOMPATIBLE
ERROR: INSUFFICIENT HARD DRIVE STORAGE
CANCELLING INSTALLATION…
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CANCELLATION OVERRIDEN. FINISHING INSTALL…
INSTALL COMPLETE.
THIS SOFTWARE MAY NOT HAVE INSTALLED PROPERLY. TROUBLESHOOT? Y/N
SELECTION: N
REBOOTING.
INITIATING START UP
WELCOME.
Good morning! You have been in suspension for—THREE—days. In compliance with state and federal regulations, all candidates in the Aperture Science Extended Relaxation…
"What have you done to me?"
His voice, coming from a mouth and not from speakers, was weak, and he barely found the strength to get his lips to form words. No answer came except a buzzer, which made him jump. Only seconds after, he felt dizzy, and it felt like something in his middle kept turning over.
"I've only done exactly what we've agreed on."
And there was her voice, soft and cold as ever, though the slightest bit more proud of herself than usual.
He changed his mind. If this was what the rest of his existence would be like, he wished he'd just let his battery pack run out before. His middle—his stomach, he recalled the word—kept turning, over and over and over, and if he opened his mouth again it felt like he'd spew everything out.
She spoke to him again. "Stand up."
He shut his optic—his eyes—and groaned, rolling over and pulling his limbs closer to him. Everything was too long, he wasn't supposed to have all these parts to him, like legs and a nose and fingers, and it was all so sensitive and too harsh and—
"Stand up."
"Wait–" He croaked. "Please, please just wait, I can't–"
"I want you out of my sight as soon as possible. The adrenal vapors should help. There's a simple cube-and-button test in the next room, something even a moron like you couldn't mess up. When you can complete that without falling over onto your face, or blowing up my facility, it means you're functional enough to get out of here, and I'll send you on your way."
He opened his mouth briefly, before shutting it and clapping his hand over it. Though words were his intention, something else in his stomach very much wanted out of his mouth.
"Since you can't speak without wanting to further ruin my facility with your bodily refuse, I'll answer the question for you. I don't care where you go. I'll send you up to the surface, in the same elevator I used to let the lunatic go. Oh… I think that was the very same elevator trackyou were supposed to send her up. But then you broke the track. And the elevator. All because she's smarter than you. But I can tell you that's not a difficult feat."
Swallowing thickly, he cringed at the awful lump in his throat and the way his optic—his eyes—stung. The lump moved down into his chest and he couldn't breathe, it hurt and he didn't want this anymore. Still feeble, he curled up into the smallest little ball he could.
"I spent a lot of time fixing that elevator, and realigning the track. Assuming you don't find some way to wreck it again on your way up, that's where you'll go. And once you get to the surface, I don't care what happens to you. It would be a shame if you dropped dead then and there, after all that time I spent repairing you, putting you into that decrepit, wiry excuse for a body, and, you know, letting you live. You did put me into a potato. And you almost obliterated my entire facility. I have a million times more energy than I did in that potato, and do you know what? I still don't have it in me to care for your well-being."
"You've made your point…" He whispered, feeling very, very small under her words.
"Oh, look at that. You managed to speak and not dirty up the relaxation chamber."
Neither of them said anything more, and he knew that she'd left him to his own devices. With pained, labored breaths, he tried to sit up. He propped himself up with his hands behind him, and took a second to adjust. He blinked, trying to look around, but nothing would come into focus. He wasn't sure if he preferred this over the crack on his optic before. Then, it was a porrly split image that didn't line up right. Now, everything was blurry, and bright, and it made him dizzy.
His stomach stopped turning, but instead rose up and pushed him to lean over the edge of the bed and let it out. He retched, wishing he could cry out in pain and his body kept pushing stuff out of him even when he was sure there was nothing left in him at all. When he finally stopped, he collapsed back onto the bed, barely having the strength to make sure he was on his side. He couldn't recall why, but that seemed to be the important thing to take care of.
The bed let out a small hiss, everything starting up again, and ensuring he fell back asleep quickly.
INITIATING SLEEP MODE.
WHEATLEY_ALPC_ANDROID OFFLINE.