She was only 10 years old. She was such an outgoing, ambitious, smart, and above all, stubborn child. Her name: Michelle Johnson. She is my daughter. Although her given name was Michelle, she would always prefer being called "Chell", thinking that it was a unique name, that no one else in the world had it. So then I called her Chell.
It all began in 1977; Chell and I met when she was 5 years old, me being 32 at the time. The young girl was with her parents, my CEO Mr. Cave Johnson and his wife Caroline Johnson. Chell immediately liked me when she discovered who I was. I was an introvert, yet Chell was able to talk me out of my little shell and get to know my true nature and feelings about her father's work at Aperture Laboratories, at that time just called Aperture.
When she was 9 years old, her father passed away because of moon rock poisoning. I've told Cave so many times not to mess with moon rocks, but he just wouldn't give a damn. Now it had costed him his life, but all he did care about was science anyway. Ever since Cave's death, I was looking through his personal items, including his pre recorded tapes and messages. All of them were time consuming and repetitive, except for one. "She will say 'no', she's modest like that, but you make her." I will always remember those words.
Then, I requested something quite absurd, not even knowing why I asked. I asked, "May I adopt Michelle?" It just seemed like I wanted her to be a part of my family. To my surprise, Caroline said yes. She was hesitant because Cave told her about my schizophrenia. I also witnessed how much stress she was under after her husband's death and knew what was going to become of her, of how cruel the Aperture scientists would be to even do something like this, but I just couldn't manage the words to tell her. I regret not saying it to this very day.
Chell was always a bright kid. When she learned I was going to be her new father, I saw a slick smile on her face, a smile that read "this is going to be awesome!" I never raised a child before, only a pet dog, but never a child. I also introduced her to the Weighted Companion Cube, a three-foot-tall white cube with a pink heart in the center of all six sides. She never took interest and often neglected the cube, but because of my schizophrenia, I tried my best to talk to the cube when Chell was at school. She never knew about my illness because I always concealed it with medication, which was something I planned on not letting her discover.
One day when she was at school, I received a call from one of my associates, Jacob. "We did it, Doug," Jacob said solemnly, "We fulfilled Mr. Johnson's dying wish." I did not know how to feel: depressed? anxious? scared? guilty? I did not know, so I did not feel anything.
When Chell was 10 years old, I brought her and the Weighted Companion Cube to Aperture Laboratories' first ever Bring-Your-Daughter-to-Work-Day. She enjoyed herself a lot, running around the hallways, touching all our computers while I lugged the heavy cube. It was also the first ever time she saw the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device. I still remember her words upon staring at it: "Wow! It can actually shoot portals?! That's amazing! And I thought that stuff only existed in those sci-fi movies!" Chell had always wanted to shoot some portals using the device. I demonstrated a couple times by shooting a blue portal beneath my Companion Cube and another to a nearby wall. Her mouth dropped in astonishment. After a couple minutes of shooting portals, I told her that it was only to be properly used by the test subjects. Being the curious little child she was, she'd ask me: "Who or what are the test subjects?" I'd always never be able to tell her who they were, fearing that she would think I am malicious to hold these people in like labrats to do these so-called "tests".
Before I could explain, there was a loud sound. A siren. "Quick! Unlock the doors! Neurotoxin!" screamed an Aperture scientist. People in white labcoats and young children were scattered everywhere, breaking open windows and doors and trying to escape the facility. That was when it hit me: she was awake. My fatherly instincts kicked in as I grabbed Chell and pulled her close. I explained, "Listen to me: stay close and don't lose sight of me. Cover your nose and mouth and try not to breath as much." She asked, "What's going on?!" "Do as I say, Chell, please!" I begged. We stuck together like glue and ran toward the door. It was locked.
I rammed myself against the door, hoping it would fly open. It wouldn't. I also tried hitting my Companion Cube against the door. "Ouch!" yelped the cube. I knew Chell couldn't hear it, but I could, which meant that the medication was wearing off. I could already taste, no, feel the neurotoxin inside me. I glanced over to Chell and noticed her throwing a coughing fit and placing a hand over her mouth. Oh no, my child will not die today, I thought. We tried to call for help and ran to a different door, but all failed. A robotic feminine voice spoke over the intercom, "Remember, Bring-Your-Daughter-to-Work-Day is also a good day to get her tested. 'Science' rhymes with 'compliance'. Do you know what else doesn't rhyme with 'science'? Neurotoxin." That bastard Cave, thinking that artificial intelligence will be the new and better future, I cursed in my head. I started to feel hazy and sick to the stomach and head, almost falling over people's passed out bodies. Chell looked the same as me, fatigued and crying. Do me proud, Chell, I believe in you, I thought, as I yanked my daughter and began running to the test subject filing room.
I ran to the computer and hesitated. Should I do this? I looked at my daughter, the star in my life, then to my Weighted Companion Cube. The cube said nothing. Yes. I quickly made a file for Chell and put her name at the top of the test subject list. I lifted her and placed her in a cryogenic sleeping pod. "What are you doing!" Chell said firmly, followed by a storm of coughing. I hugged my daughter, with a single tear escaping my eye and running down my cheek. "I love you, and will always love you, sweetheart. Please, know that. I will always be by your side no matter what, even in the afterlife," I told Chell. She managed five words with a croak: "We will not die today." And with those words, the sleeping pod closed, and so did my eyelids as I slid and fell on my Weighted Companion Cube. She will do it, she will rid of the rogue AI. She is my daughter.