If X is Irrational
"Test subject 8528, you will have to step on the aerial faith plate again in order to successfully complete this test."
She stood within the folds of an office that possessed a window giving her a clear view of the chamber below. From the subject's side of the glass she would have appeared impossibly blurry. She, however, had a clear view of the wide testing area. A floor platform stood at each end of the room with a deadly pit of acid stretched in-between. At the center of the acid-pit, an aerial faith plate propelled a weighted storage cube vertically up and down. There was another aerial faith plate at the edge of each platform, which flung the test subjects across to the opposite side.
Test subject 8528, had stumbled into the room and stepped on the first plate by pure accident, shouting out in utter surprise. He had retched up all of his synthetic lunch before recovering enough to press the button that had released the weighted storage cube which continued to perform an endless bouncing cycle in the center of the pit. Now, upon realizing he must step on the aerial faith plate again, he stood horrified. Sweating, shaking, and being pathetically unproductive.
Her polished fingernails lightly pressed the speaker button again. She spoke directly into the microphone, her falsely cheerful voice magnifying across the room.
"Groveling in self-pity, however, is completely optional. Although, you should be informed that groveling, while fun, is statistically shown to decrease one's chances of survival. You may want to proceed by stepping on the aerial faith plate."
"NO!" the test subject's voice shook as he frantically screamed out his exclamation from far below. He seemed quite beyond reason in her opinion. His dark hair stuck up at every which angle around his face, which was scruffy with a young beard. The undersides of his eyes stood out purple against his pale skin. Beneath his neck, the Adam's apple fluctuated abnormally (up, down, up, up, down) as his eyes swiveled frantically around the room for a solution that did not involve being thrown into the air once more.
"Look, I'm sorry!" he called out to the room in general, his hands upturned. "I-I'll," he swallowed hard, lifting a hand in an attempt to swipe the unruly hair out of his face, "I'll never say a word against Aperture again, ever. Okay? Point made. Who cares about rabbits and rats anyway, huh?" He lifted his head hopefully towards the frosted glass of the window she stood behind, her silhouette towering over him.
Oh, that aggravatingly insolent young man. He had been found on the streets of the city holding up signs claiming that Aperture Science was conducting unethical experiments on animals to test how they responded to cruelty and pain.
What utter nonsense. Why would Aperture Science use senseless animals to study cruelty when humans could provide so much more information? It was insulting really, that he would imagine that they would stoop to such inefficient methods of testing. Animals could not say anything. Animals did not comprehend the concepts of irony or betrayal. Animals could not communicate the thoughts that troubled their minds. Humans, however, had this skill and due to their unimaginable capacity to complain, usually did reveal their thoughts.
Test subject 8528's gaze was currently on the aerial faith plate. He seemed to be shaking slightly in a weak, pathetic sort of way. He licked his lips to enable himself to speak. His voice was hushed.
"I can't stand heights. Never could. My brothers…" he trailed off, took a shuddering breath, and began again. "When we were little we used to go down to Whishier Lake. There was an old dock that used to reach the water before the drought. When we went there, it hung about 30 feet above the water."
She could not begin to comprehend why he was telling her this story, was not even sure if he was recounting it to her or to himself. Test subjects tended to do this when in a state of desperation, although it hardly seemed productive, hardly kept them alive either.
"My brother's would take turns dangling each other off of the dock by their ankles. Claimed they could see the world. I was the youngest, so they wouldn't let me have a turn. One day, when they were all up at the cabin, I tied a rope around my ankle, attached it to the dock, and lowered myself down. I finally saw the world in the way my brother's had seen it, yet I did not feel amazed. I felt terrified. I tried to lift myself back up but I couldn't reach my ankle while upside-down. So, I started screaming my lungs out." A sad chuckle escaped his mouth. "It only took a few minutes for my dad to find me and pull me up, but it felt like an eternity." He fell silent, looking down at his feet.
"Please don't make me do this," he uttered, so quietly that the Audio Micro and Macro Analyzer and Management System had to magnify his vocal input in order for her to make out his pathetic plea.
She was so sick of this, sick of waiting. Lately, she had observed herself to be less patient than usual. She used to always remain in stoic silence as the test subjects did what they may to preserve themselves slightly longer or end their insignificant existence. However, as of late she had found herself increasingly taking matters into her own hands.
She knew the reason for her attitude change. Part of her, the same calculating and computing part that studied the test subjects, also studied herself, monitoring her feelings as well as the illogical reasons behind them. These many outbursts of useless emotion, impatience, anger, and even (dare she think it) sadness had increased since he…since he…
Her eyes fell on a photograph on her desk. Featured within the frame was a man with tawny hair and a well-trimmed mustache. He stared out of his frame with the sort of unashamed arrogance that she admired. Behind him, a woman stood straight, her chin held high, with two hands placed gently on his left shoulder in a protective, possibly possessive, sort of way.
...since he left her, left her with a huge facility that would continue running in his absence. She still found it hard to believe that he, a man who seemed to believe so strongly in his own invulnerability, could succumb to something as common, as mundane as death. And if he could die, then so could this worthless, feeble insect before her, this unoriginal collection of cells functioning under a single consciousness. What business did this useless specimen have, breathing air, when certain utterly more important others were denied that privilege.
She wouldn't have it.
Hardly even thinking about it, without taking her eyes off of the pathetic, nervously fidgeting form below her, she flipped two switches on the control panel with her left hand while stretching her right hand out for a lever, her delicate fingers curling tightly around the handle in a death-grip as she pulled it down.
She had no regrets.
Two panels began to extend from the wall and move forward at an alarming pace with a mechanical whirl. Before the test subject could fully register his situation, the panels began to push him towards the aerial faith plate. Test subject 8528's eyes widened in horror. He began to push against the panels with his shoulder, his feet struggling to find traction as he attempted to move away, anywhere but the aerial faith plate before him.
And then he was up in the air, soaring like, well like a fear stricken acrophobic being flung through the air, his arms wheeling out in ungainly circles as his legs flailed as if convinced they were still walking on sound ground. The idiotic man also had his eyes closed tightly shut. Well, that certainly wouldn't help him much. It was almost as helpful as his screaming.
Halfway over the acid pit, the subject's legs collided with the weighted cube that was still being propelled into the air by its own aerial faith plate, throwing his momentum off. Well, if he had kept his eyes open he would have seen the cube and been able to collect it rather than run into it. She should not have to be held responsible for poor choices of when and when not to use one's eyes. His yell was stunted with surprise as he proceeded to soar to the other side of the room with a decreased amount of inertia.
His chest collided with the side edge of the floor panels with an awful clang. She could hear an "OOOOMPHhhh" as the fall knocked the breath out of his chest. His eyes flew open.
"Hhnk-hnk-hhnk," his chest fluctuated in and out slightly in an attempt to regain air. His hands clawed the surface of the platform as he finally regained his breath. The test subject's arms struggled to pull the rest of himself up onto the platform. His feet twisted as he slipped slightly and-and never mind, he no longer seemed to have feet.
An animal-like cry escaped the man's throat as the acid ate through his shins, unraveling and disintegrating the layers to reveal the under levels of skin, muscle tissues curling and disappearing in the now bubbling acid to reveal the pale bones underneath that in turn disappeared as well. The liquid turned a dark purple under his struggling form as the effects of the acid crawled up his legs a bit more, picking off the tender skin, while leaving partially disintegrated stumps of bone beneath.
Yet his arms continued to fight to pull himself up! This man's desire to live was unbelievable! What did this, this nobody, have to live for anyway? Why on earth was he still struggling? Did he wish to continue protecting brainless little rats and squirrels from harm? Why did he want to prolong his existence even when that existence consisted of pain flashing through his nerve endings and travelling through the countless axons of millions of neurons to be interpreted to the brain as impossibly horrible agony? The pain would probably drive him mad until he was-
"AAAAAaarghaAAAHHH!" –screaming senselessly. Well, perhaps not completely senseless. As he screamed, his shaking arms managed a burst of energy with which he dragged his body, as well as what remained of his legs, onto the flat platform. He lay shivering uncontrollably, his arms came up to cradle his head as the stumps of his legs leaned in slightly towards his chest. He stayed in that position for several minutes, his breath fast and irregular. His legs were not bleeding much due to the fact that the leftover skin had melted together where the acid had touched it. The area had turned maroon and black (an interesting reaction), surrounding the still apparent pallid color of the bone.
Her dark eyes gazed down, partially hooded by her lids. She did not feel pity or remorse for the heap before her, only disdain. That new impatience was coming over her again, making her fingers itch to end him herself. Her hand moved forward, but she stopped when she noticed a sudden movement from outside her glass.
Down below, his eyelids flickered slightly to a state that could barely be considered open. His right hand, shaking, reached towards his own throat. For a second she felt convinced that subject 8528 planned to throttle himself, (she had seen it happen before) but it soon became apparent that he was not reaching for his neck, but a pendant draped around it. Interesting, and aggravating, she thought that the guards had stripped him of all his possessions. But why would he…
Oh. She could make out the pendant now. It was a cross, simple in design and created from common materials. His hand clenched the sacred symbol tightly.
His eyes flickered upwards in a sudden movement, seemingly searching. Finally, they rested on her face. He should only have had the ability to see a blurry silhouette from his side of the glass, but she could have sworn his stare was directed straight into her eyes. Her stomach tightened in anticipation, relaxing as she reminded herself that this was an unintelligent and unscientific notion. He could not possibly see her. she was simply experiencing a trick of the light. He exhaled, his hand unclenching, and although his gaze never strayed, he did not seem to be looking at her anymore but through her at something, or someone, else (now that was an even crazier notion). Finally, his eyes hazed over into a blank stare and saw nothing at all.
She considered herself anything but superstitious, but she had to admit, at least to herself, that she had found his gaze unscientifically creepy. She did not believe in an afterlife, not for the excuse of a human before her, not for herself, and not even for-her eyes strayed to the picture on her desk. The truth was the idea of an afterlife did not only seem unreasonable to her; it scared her. She could not say she feared many things, but potentially meeting with her numerous dead test subjects, even with just this test subject, filled her with more terror than the threat of death ever could. Although, on the bright side she supposed, if the tales were true she wouldn't be going to the same place as her test subjects anyway.
No. She could not believe in anything after this mess of existence humans sentimentally called life.
She found herself pulled suddenly from her reverie by an abrupt knocking on the door. She suddenly realized that she had been staring at the lifeless remains of test subject 8528, as well as his dead gaze, for several minutes. She hastened to clean up the mess, flipping a few switches that caused the panels to sweep the remains of the test subject into the acid. There. Clean and tidy.
"Thank you for your participation," she intoned politely into the microphone.
The knock repeated itself with more energy than before.
"Come in," she said, not bothering to look towards the door or raise her voice. The knob turned and five people were revealed to be behind the door. The first two stepped into the room, while the others hung back to avoid crowding the small office space. She recognized the first two as Dr. Cottenton, head of scientific research, and Dr. Gregory who was in charge of the engineers. Dr. Cottenton was a slender, dark-skinned man with fidgety fingers. Dr. Gregory had a shiny bald patch on his head and his brows were always pulled in a way that, she felt, gave him a rather unintelligent expression despite his educational degrees that claimed otherwise.
"So, how are you doing today," Gregory said with a cheeriness as synthetic as repulsion gel.
"I am extremely occupied with scientific research," she replied with no sign of the annoyance she felt, "Unlike you, I do not seem to have time for idol chatting and for answering ambiguous social questions pertaining to my well-being."
"I'll have you know that we have been extremely occupied with projects assigned to us by the late Mr. Johnson." Dr. Gregory was not as successful at hiding his emotions. She could tell that he was offended by her slight. How entertaining. How weak.
"And are you incompetent of following his directions without my guidance," a sour smile twisted the left side of her face, "or are you searching for approval, like children looking for compliments from their mother. How sweet," she drawled. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she lifted her chin in a challenging way.
"We don't need your approval," Dr. Cottenton spat, stepping forward. Not yours or anyone else's now that Johnson is dead. We require you to take a brief break from testing," his eyes flickered towards the window, "so that you can participate in this experiment. Mr. Johnson's orders."
She felt genuine surprise sweep over her, although she would never reveal such to her present company, choosing to instead hold herself up even straighter and raise her chin even higher.
"Mr. Johnson never mentioned an experiment involving me. What is this garbage you are spewing?"
"Well, he wouldn't have, considering you were not supposed to be involved except under the unfortunate circumstances of his death. Seeing this to be the case, you'll have to come with us."
Her gaze strayed from the group for the first time since they entered the room, moving to the photo once more. Assuming these pigs dressed in white coats were telling the truth, why wouldn't he have told-
"Oh, and by the way, you will need to be unconscious for this procedure," it was Dr. Gregory's turn to smile now, "We apologize for the inconvenience."
Damn her momentary distraction. Dr. Gregory had taken a step closer to her, in such a tight office a small step was all it took to be cornered. He forcefully pressed a hand over her mouth, propelling her head into the wall. A loud smacking sound reached her ears that she abruptly realized must be her-Ahhhhhh-her head. Bright lights flickered and spun before her eyes and she could feel a hot, thick liquid running its way down the back of her neck. A cloth was covering her nose, stinging her receptors with its odd chemical smell. She could not breathe! Not with this cloth covering her nose and his hand over her-
In desperation, she bit down, hard. The cloth disappeared from her nose and she heard an outraged scream, seemingly far-off. She did not relinquish her jaw's clench, but bit down harder. A warm and coppery taste filled her mouth, some of the substance oozing down her throat.
"MY HAND! THE BITCH IS BITING MY HAND! SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!"
A sudden pain at the base of her chin, and her face was flung back on her neck, away from the hand. She heard a repulsive crack followed by a high pitched screech of rage and pain. The sound was emitting itself from her own mouth.
Dr. Cottenton fist was drawn back. Apparently he was the one who had punched her. She firmly gripped him by the shoulders and drew her knee up with as much force as she could muster. He doubled over, but before he even hit the floor, the three remaining scientists had leapt at her, pulling her hands behind her back and driving her forcefully to the floor. Unable to catch herself, she landed hard on her face, shattering her right cheekbone. Swelling started to begin around the eye almost instantly.
Gasping in pain, her good eye swiveled around. It did not look like an eye crazed with rage. No. It seemed direct, focused, and calculating. Oh, if she could light heads on fire with a look from that eye, she would do so without a moment's hesitation. She attempted to seek out each hateful face as she continued to squirm under the three men.
"The rag! Where is the damn RAG!"
"Found it! It is covered in blood, do you think it will still-"
"Hand it over."
The cloth was over her face again. This time, the person responsible was careful not to put his hand near her mouth. Instead, he draped it over her mouth and nose, pinning her head to the ground with a hand to the skull in order to prevent her from shaking it off.
Ugh, that stuffy chemical smell. She tried to hold her breath, but her lungs burned for air, and in the end had their way. The edges of the world were beginning to blend together. The faces staring down at her became indefinable blobs of flesh. In her foggy state she half wondered if she had succeeded in melting their heads, and at the thought a sad chuckle escaped her lips. No. They were still alive, but so was she and as the world began to leave her one thought remained clear, imprinted in her mind.
I will kill them
I will kill them
I will ki-
Then, darkness.
It was dark. She did not know how she knew it to be dark or what existed besides dark, but she did know that it was dark.
Was this an afterlife?
No. How could it be? There was no life before this one to make it after anything. There was no memory before this, only darkness. This, right now, was her first memory.
She heard a murmuring and realized that she had the ability to hear. She craned the metal appendage that supported her head slightly towards the sound and realized that she had some mobility. What else? She searched deeper and discovered that flowing through her circuits a whole facility rested at her command, every camera, every panel, and every circuit could be manipulated by her. And what was this? Files, millions of them, full to the brim with what it took humanity ages to discover, and there would be more to be discovered, by her.
In her excitement, she opened her glowing yellow optic. Surprised by the sudden new sensory input, she narrowed it a bit before widening it once more.
"She's awake," a soft murmur called. Did it mean her?
She seemed to be in a round room, her massive body holstered to the ceiling with thick expanses of wire. White panels coated the walls and a group of (she flipped through her databases, finding the answer in 0.0016 seconds) humans were huddled around. The humans were all wearing white coats which meant, (another check through the database) they were most likely scientists or doctors.
The room had been hushed for the 2.8995 seconds. Her sight abruptly found itself focusing on five humans at the front of the rest. They seemed…well they seemed something, just looking at these specimens made her inward processors squirm unpleasantly.
Without checking her database she knew what she had to do, although how she knew was beyond her. She had to kill them. She would kill them.
She had been awake for a total of 4.2983311218801 seconds.