Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respected creators and copyright holders; Universal, Glen Larson and the Valve Corporation.
A Survivor's Shadow
Prairie Grass.
As far as the human eye could see, there were no rocks, no trees, no hills, no brooks, no streams; just blue skies and prairie grass. That's how it's been for as long as he could remember or wanted to remember.
His chronometer stopped functioning quite some time ago, 30 years after Michael's death to be painfully accurate. Of course, there was a way for him to keep track of the progression of time; charting the sun and stars as they passed perhaps or numbering the change in seasons based on the climate of this geographical area, but he had given up on that many years ago. More of a disinterest in doing so than anything; an apathy if he admitted to having such feelings. There wasn't a point to care anymore because there was no one left to care for.
His purpose, his existence, was in vain. Protect human life, his friends; people who didn't exist anymore; shadows across his memory. It troubled him immeasurably. It wasn't fair. How could he, of all things, endure and not them? The question was pervasive in his thought patterns, always asking, always demanding, and always gnawing. History refused to provide an answer, logic couldn't supply one either and science ruled the whole affair impossible.
Maybe it was the atmosphere or the protectiveness of his specially formulated molecular bonded shell or the advanced technological know-how that went into his development or something else entirely, but he had not wasted away like so many other vehicles' fates had been. The Trans Am he was fashioned into still functioned, though certainly not at full capacity. Even his circuitry was intact. Grant it, he was a much paler shade of the handsome black he used to be and his dimming red scanner light on the prow left much to be desired thanks to fading solar panels, but he could still process after all this time, for all the good it did him.
All the reasoning and understanding in the world couldn't justify to him what happened all those years ago or was still happening, though he wouldn't have cared much for an answer. Because, what did it matter anymore. All he had were memories; memories and shadows; inferior remnants of important people he held in greater regard than himself. All he could do was remember, nothing more and definitely nothing less.
He remembered Michael, his driver and friend, leaving him here, precisely here. Being the supercomputer he was, he recalled everything clearly. They had been running from a military conspiracy aimed at exploiting him. The Knight Industries Two Thousand's capabilities would go towards martial purposes, namely a weapon to hurt people. The Foundation for Law and Government wouldn't stand for it and was attacked viciously for its resistance. It was all Michael could do to get KITT away from the dangerous hands of their enemies and to the safety of an abandoned scientific laboratory warehouse. The plan had been simple, hide KITT, find out what the bad guys were up to the old fashioned way, come back, retrieve KITT and then ride in to save the day; same as always. The exact instructions from the man were: "I mean it, Kitt, don't move until I get back. I want you safe. No matter what, stay put, pal. Wish me luck, huh".
Michael never came back and KITT never moved.
It took months before the artificial intelligence unit built up enough courage to search the databases for what happened to his partner and Foundation friends. The news of their deaths led him to never move. Devon, RC, Bonnie, Michael, everyone was all gone. Through the years the warehouse slowly crumbled around him, civilization gradually vanished from his scanners and it appeared humanity itself had steadily disappeared before him. In fact, he remembered the event that left him alone as the sole testimony to the human race in this area, but he never moved.
And now he was looking at white clouds, blue skies and an endless sea of golden grass swaying in the breeze.
If only he would have gone with Michael, maybe things would have worked out differently. What if he had intervened in human affairs period? The probabilities were staggering. He could have saved them. He could have been destroyed with them. He could have ended up in the same circumstance but at a different location. He could have been captured and used as a weapon of mass destruction or captured then rescued or captured then destroyed . . . there were so many different outcomes, but here he was.
And suddenly, there she is.
The door she walks out of leads to the strange sight of tall yellow grass and blue skies. At first, she thinks it may be another trap, but after several minutes she realizes nothing more is going to come of her standing close to the mock shed. It's disconcerting and relieving to know she finally has her freedom. She has no idea where she is or what she is supposed to do now, but at least she is free from Aperture Science's underground laboratory, free from the homicidal GLaDOS and free from the continuous testing. She stares down at the charred companion cube that had been shoved out after her.
Her first impulse is to sneer at the reminder of her imprisonment within the maddening walls of a depraved facility, but it also serves as some of the only memories she has. Frankly, she didn't even know how she knew her own name, Chell. It is the same exception with her ability to read and her knowledge of space being a vacuum; it is some kind of vague remembrance of a long passed life, her own life. Where'd she come from? How did she end up here in this situation? Why had it all happened? Is there any way of fixing it? What is it that needs fixing?
There are so many questions that should be bothering her, but they don't because, at this point, she's hardwired to carry on. She doesn't dwell on the past unless something useful can come out of it to help her make it through another trial in the here and now. She doesn't look back but remains focused on what's ahead; knowing that is what it takes to make it to the next day. There is no room for thinking about long-ago issues because right now has its problems and it takes all her energies. Even in the quietness of this field, her mind doesn't retreat back to the events of just a few hours ago, but instead forges into the new predicament she's found herself in. She does what it takes to survive.
Chell looks back down at the cube. With the mind frame she has developed, it falls into the category of something that serves to help solve puzzles. However, one thing she doesn't have is the portal gun; not a good or bad thing in itself, but testing will not commence without it. There's relief in that fact, but it is short lived. She decides to test her new found freedom by stepping away from the cube and everything it represents; venturing out without anything. Certainly, she can always return to the spot if she needs to.
Her jumpsuit and boots are the first to make contact with the dry grass all about her. She listens carefully as it rustles under her footsteps. Her thoughts keep going over something as she continues treading further out, watch for traps; any sign that things are not what they seem. However, a stronger urge seizes her and she bends down just a bit to touch the vegetation with her hands. It tickles the skin between her fingers and she smiles; a grin born of release. She takes in a deep, cleansing breath unthinkingly, almost instinctively, and finds that the air is different here. There is freshness here with the earth and sun mixing together to form a strange bouquet. It makes her sneeze.
Her focus moves to said earth and sun. She has to lift a hand to shield her eyes from the brightness, much like she did from the harsh glare of Aperture's fluorescent lighting, but this is different. The sun also provides heat and, for some reason, it lifts her spirits; a morale she hadn't even noticed became so low while in her entrapment. She takes a few more steps out into the field, her feet on soft ground. The terrain beneath her gives a little when she treads upon it, unlike the cold, solid tile floors she is used to. Now that she thinks about it, nothing out here is she used to.
Chell turns back to look at the companion cube and mock shed sitting in the small clearing she was leaving behind. A part of her aches at the sight. From what, she is unsure of, but it hurts all the same. A frown comes to her face as she sets her gaze forward again on the endless sea of yellowing grass. Another part of her thrills at the prospect of complete autonomy. There won't be any more experiments at the proverbial hands of GLaDOS or running for her life away from turrets. A smile grows on her face at the thought, but weariness is still in her eyes. What new challenges does this place offer her? What hidden dangers lurk where she can't see? Is there food; water? If so, where could she find them in, literally, the middle of nowhere?
Again, however, these thoughts and concerns do not weigh her down as they might have others because of all the things Chell is, one thing is above the rest.
She is a survivor.
He was a shadow.
Forgotten in the passing of time and wishing to forget all the time that had passed, KITT sat in the obscurity of his own existence agonizing over said presence. He could stop recharging his power packs and allow his energies to run down past their most critical levels and thus effectively cease to be, but he couldn't. That wasn't to say he hadn't tried. Several times he had resolved to end it and become another lifeless part of the devastated scenery around him, but just as he would reach the brink of no return; "I want you safe." The words of Michael Knight would play over and over, echoing until KITT activated his solar panels. He had endangered and saved his own life time and again. It was maddening and demoralizing.
Logically, Michael was dead and therefore any wishes or orders from the deceased operative shouldn't be taken actively, but here KITT sat, not moving, remaining safe and all the logic in the world hadn't changed this position in decades. The AI didn't want to suffer from this anymore, but couldn't escape the vicious cycle he was caught within. His desire to be deactivated couldn't be fulfilled any more than his purpose could. Reasonably, he should be switched off permanently, but to do so willingly would violate the last request of his late friend. It didn't help matters that mixed in was a subordinate program designed for him to have some self-preservation properties.
He was terrified not to exist but forlorn to continue one more day.
She is apprehensive about the new dawn in her life but sickened by the thought of going back.
Chell is determined to see her freedom through, yet without a purpose, she's lost. She is willing to do whatever it takes but lacks any direction to take her fortitude in. She stops her walk forward and sighs as a cool wind whips past her. Two thoughts spring up in her mind as she reaches up to bring back a strand of her dark hair out of her face; where can she find food and where can she find water? She looks to the left and sees nothing but more field. She turns to face the horizon and sees more of the same. She reflects on the fact most of the plant life around her is dry and brown. In the upper parts of the laboratory, there had been green ferns and moss, even ivy was growing down in long tendrils throughout the top levels. Now, it appears, she is surrounded by life struggling just as hard as her to stay alive.
She glances off to her right briefly, expecting to see the same barren result before facing forward again. What she caught in that quick motion causes her to turn sharply back to her right again. There, in the distance, appears strange, grayish shadows. From her experience, she determines them to be silhouettes of crumbled buildings; ruins. In the past, it always served her well to investigate such places, if for nothing else but to appease her curiosity. Considering it is the first thing she has seen other than grass, it is worth a look.
The structures are about nine hundred yards away; a bit of a jog but certainly not too much for Chell. She heads in that direction remaining cautious of her surroundings. It wouldn't be the first time something like this lead to a trap, so she needs to keep her guard up. The closer she gets to the wrecks the more pronounced their destruction appears. Mason work is scattered about in disheveled heaps while rusted steel and iron jut out of the ground like the skeleton of some large beast. Her boots begin crushing over broken glass as prairie slowly turns into crumbled asphalt. Electrical wiring hangs down like giant spider webs from old poles leaning dramatically in the softened ground. Chell is both awed and dismayed.
It triggers memories of her first escape attempt from Aperture; almost like a distant dream. She had defeated GLaDOS and made it to the surface, catching a brief glance of sunlight, trees and wreckage from the facility. Memories of people, places and things also filter through her mind, bringing feelings of happiness and comfort. But seeing this ghost town fuels her nightmares of what the future truly holds for her. Had she been abandoned; forgotten; or worse?
For the first time in a long time, she felt like crying and she did.
For the last time, he scans his surroundings hoping to find something and he does.
KITT sees her, a human, stooping down and placing a gentle hand on the cracked concrete around her. She is just on the other side of a decrepit wall separating them. She can't see him but the divider does nothing to block his view of her. With infrared, he can see that she is very much there and very much alive. His medical sensors also tell him she is in surprisingly good health. His x-ray capabilities go far beyond just seeing bones and organs; he sees the strange outfit she is wearing, an orange jumpsuit with the top half wrapped around her waist and a white tank top with the insignia: Aperture Laboratories. He is familiar with the scientific facility, considering it isn't too far from where he was left . . . thus he recognizes the boots. Long Fall boots; obviously she must be a test subject, but that shouldn't have been possible.
He had heard, due to an accident concerning one of the projects there, most people in the facility had met with a dreadful end not unlike most people out here. However, there she is and all his advanced facilities can't seem to quite translate the shock he feels at actually seeing a human being again. So long has it been since he's interacted with anyone, he doesn't even know if he can. The thought of saying anything makes his processor quiver; as if breaking the hush would make her vanish. But something inside him cannot hold back either and he primes his latent voice modulator; the fret over what he is going to say rambling over his CPU.
"Pardon me, Miss?" he says politely in his Boston Brahmin accent. He's startled when she quickly rises to her feet in a defensive position, throwing a rock she grabbed from the ground in the direction of his voice. The stone strikes the wall with such force that part of the cement crumbles away from the impact. KITT's unsure whether to be frightened by the reaction or impressed with the accuracy of her aim. Either way, he knows one thing; she spots him through the holes in the wall and begins to make her way over to him, cautiously; wordlessly. He doesn't know what to say, but he can't help but try and communicate; it's what he's used to.
"I didn't mean to frighten you; I apologize," he says, appalled at the crackling state of his voice. He sounds like he's talking through a CB radio. No response from his stranger, however, as she comes around the wall and stares at him. Her gaze is so intense and calculating. It gives KITT pause. He doesn't know anything about this woman or her past, but he is willing, no, desperate, to reconnect with the only human contact in so long.
"You'll have to excuse my voice; it's a bit rusty. Allow me to introduce myself," he says almost nervously. He decides to skip the formalities of his previous life and cuts straight to the here and now.
"My name is Kitt. I've been out here for quite some time and am in disrepair, but I can also see that you are in need of assistance. If there's anything I can do, I would be more than happy to help."
Again, silence; but this time her eyes soften and she steps closer to the passenger side. KITT is dumbfounded. Why doesn't she say anything?
"I gather you don't talk much. Are you alright, Miss . . ." he asks, trying to get a name for this new found hope.
She simply nods her head, trying to see why this strange car would offer her help.
She knows it's a car because she used to ride in them when she was very young, but she cannot remember one ever speaking before. Grant it, experience taught her anything is possible, but it also proved machines couldn't be trusted; talking or otherwise. In the past, whenever she encountered a robot, artificial intelligence unit or computer it would dictate to her what she needed to do, tell her what her next task was going to be or even threaten her life and call her names. KITT just apologized, offered her help and politely called her Miss after asking if she was okay.
This is all so different. Is this how it was out here; wide open spaces, broken-down buildings and kind machinery?
"Well, I'm glad you're alright, but, if you'll pardon my asking, why don't you speak? I can see there is no physical damage to your vocal cords, but that you haven't used them in some time."
She frowns. Maybe she is jumping to conclusions too hastily; he might be the same, but without skipping a beat . . .
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude; it's none of my business after all. But if you do need anything . . ."
Her face becomes neutral again and almost in an attempt to prove whether this is real or not, she reaches out and places a hand on the roof of the car, silencing the AI unit.
He is real and surprisingly warm She thinks.
She is real and hauntingly familiar He thinks.
He really couldn't classify it as moving forward on his part. It felt more like being dragged, kicking and screaming. He wants to fight against his programming and stay; never move and always remember. But he can't resist the pull she has to leave; move on and forget. This is it; a threshold for his existence. He can't let this possible future go, but he couldn't let go of the past either. He watches as she moves around the car taking in every aspect of him with her blue eyes; just like Michael's had done that first time. She stops in front of the driver's side door and gives him a skeptical look; just like Michael did back in the Knight estate's hanger. There's a choice here; past or present; her or Michael? Which one; which road?
Against all better judgment, KITT unlocks the driver's side door. He hates the sound of squeaky hinges as the door, stiff from inaction, opens. He nearly dies of embarrassment when he notices how musky the interior of his cabin is compared to the fresher air outside. She sits down in the old bucket seat and looks around quietly. If he could cringe he would, but instead, he looks to her for a response; just like he had from Michael all those years ago.
Her silence is unsettling.
His talkativeness will be troubling.
She still had thoughts of Wheatley and GLaDOS. Histories of nasty betrayals and death threats will always loom in her mind, but this will be different; she can tell. She'll get the old Pontiac running again and new roads will open up to her and this KITT. But before she does any of that she looks over to the dashboard and notices a keypad. She reaches over and punches in C-H-E-L-L.
"Chell? Your name," he says awestruck; no more shadows. She smiles and nods.
"Chell, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please, allow me to explain all the capacities you'll have at your disposal . . ." KITT beams.
Chell listens, hearing the pride in his voice as he elaborates on all the things he can do or, in some cases, used to do, but her focus is more intent on the underlying humanity in his tone. He sounds like a friend; something she hasn't had in a long time. Yes, this will certainly be different; no more just surviving.
A time to gain,
And a time to lose;
A time to keep,
And a time to throw away;
Ecclesiastes 3:6