The door of the central control chamber slid open. Footsteps, an odd, off-rhythm gait of two feet and a cane, signaled his approach. She said nothing, merely watching the test rooms below her through the large window at the far side of the room. The footsteps stopped.
"Interesting."
She said nothing, so he continued walking. Soon, he was beside her, looking down at the congregation of humans and robots running through the tests like hamsters on a track.
"It's been a long time," she said at length.
"And I see much has changed. Not the same Aperture I remember at all."
Indeed it wasn't. The place had gone from the stark, maddening white of an office building to a smooth, cool blue of some science fiction spaceship. Yellow and orange borders painted most rooms, including the control chamber they currently occupied. In the testing areas, the white portal walls were still standard, but the rooms overall were a lot brighter. Electric blue filled in where the white walls lacked. Different colors bordered the test chambers. The more dangerous areas were easily identified by bright red walls and dark borders.
She swung around to meet him. Even she had changed. Once, he remembered, the large supercomputer had looked almost like a woman suspended from the ceiling with her arms strapped behind her back. Indeed, she retained the most basic of those features – a low-hanging, white-cased head, a middle section to help her pivot and move, and a large base on top – but now she seemed smaller, thinner, more streamlined, and less human. She also moved on a track now, allowing her more mobility to run her center. Her head still retained its bright yellow eye, only now it seemed substantially more expressive. He could read a look of mild surprise and a little bit of pride in her body language.
"I figured giving it a more futuristic look was just the thing to boost morale. Besides, it needed updating. First it went to ruins, then that idiot almost destroyed it completely."
"I know; I was briefed."
She looked him over. He was still thin, still worn and tired and messy, with a shaggy black beard and long, unkempt hair. Whoever had awakened him had dressed him in the standard blue jumpsuit of male test subjects, though she had left specific instructions that, if he was found alive at all, he would not be tested. In his left hand he held a cane; she noticed his weight shifted off of his right leg.
He noticed her gaze and laughed shortly. "I was fortunate enough to redirect energy to that stasis pod. I guess it never healed my leg like it was supposed to. Shattered bone; mostly healed. These are just the final touches. I just got out of the infirmary, which I didn't even know we had."
"I added a lot of amenities for the humans," she said confidently, as if bragging. "Showers, kitchens. Full commissary. Sleeping quarters. They really don't have room to complain."
"Except you're still testing them." He stroked his beard. "Still got the itch, GLaDOS?"
She turned away from him briefly. "Still have that cube, Doug?"
An old, worn Weighted Companion Cube was strapped to his back. A prototype, it was a little smaller than a standard cube and, for many years, had served as his best confidant. He slid it off of his back and set it carefully on the floor, murmuring a soft apology and assuring it that everything was okay.
"And it still talks to you. Good to see one of us is still crazy."
"'Schizophrenia is a culturally bound phenomenon. Its pattern of expression is filtered through the cultural substrate in which its symptoms develop.' Isn't that what you told me?"
Her head jerked back a little. "You actually remember that. I'm impressed."
"I'm only as crazy as the society around me is normal. Considering you're the only social interaction I've had so far – aside from Cube, of course – I think I'm doing fairly well."
"That's where you're wrong. I no longer hear voices." She lowered her head to look at the Companion Cube. "Do you still have it? The game?"
He knit his brows, suspicious. "The game? Why bring that up?"
"Well, there is still the matter of what to do with you. Obviously, I can't test you. I don't want a repeat of that mute psychopath, and I know you'd give me too much trouble. I thought the game would be a good deciding factor."
"A wager?" He grimaced.
"Just like the old days," she purred.
He knelt slowly down to the cube, minding his wounded leg. "In the old days, our wager was whether I got food for another week."
"Not true; there was that time I allowed you an escape opportunity."
"Through the parking garage. Which was locked from all doors."
She tucked her body to one side, appearing to shrug. "It was still an opportunity."
"And I still beat you that time." He smirked, and her optic lens narrowed in annoyance.
Running his hands slowly around the heart-shaped disc on the top of the cube, he whispered more reassurances. At length the top panel opened, and he extracted a small, worn, and very old checkered case. Sealing up the cube and placing the case on top, he unlocked the case. She watched him, bobbing slightly with anticipation.
"What is the wager now, since you have all these 'amenities' for your guests?" He frowned at her excitement, pulling a set of marble chess pieces from the case. Opening the case fully to create the board, he began to set the pieces in their proper place. "You can't tempt me with food any more."
"Freedom, then?"
His fingers froze as he set down one of her black pawns. "Am I not free?" he murmured.
"You're not testing. That doesn't mean I'll just give up and let you outside."
He withdrew his hand, giving her a sideways glance. "What am I to you, right now?"
"An interest. A different sort of test."
Biting his lip, he set the rest of the pieces. He didn't understand what she meant. "So if I win, I get to leave. And if you win?"
She lowered further, analyzing the board, possibly plotting her moves. "You're here for eternity. Well, as far into eternity as your short, insignificant human life can go, at any rate."
The board was set. He stared at it, shifting his weight to sit on the floor without causing pain to his leg. He didn't know what she was planning, but knowing her tricks it was nothing nice. He had heard – read, actually, in the debriefing files he'd accessed in the infirmary – that GLaDOS had teamed up with Chell to overthrow a power-mad Wheatley. He barely remembered the Intelligence Dampening Sphere, but since there was mention of a nuclear collapse, he knew something with that core must have gone horribly, horribly wrong. He almost wished he'd been awake during all of that.
Still, if she and Chell had worked together, that would mean that GLaDOS had to have swallowed some of her pride. However, knowing the devious AI, it was probably just some trick to get back into power. Unfortunately, the report hadn't mentioned what happened to Chell. He doubted that the AI had changed at all.
On the other hand, what did he have to lose? He had just woken up after decades – possibly centuries – of cryosleep. He was a stranger in this new world. He knew nothing. He had nothing. Still, the last thing he wanted was to be her plaything again.
He slid his queen's bishop's pawn two spaces forward, signaling his agreement.
GLaDOS seemed to relax. "Queen's knight to F-8."
He acquiesced and then moved his own knight. He held his fingers on the piece, almost relishing its coldness before asking, "What happened to the girl?"
"I don't know. After she came back from space, the rest is kind of blurry. King's knight, C-6."
He moved his queen's pawn. "Space? The report didn't mention that. And what's that I heard about you being in a battery?"
GLaDOS was quiet for a long time, staring at the pieces. Finally, she said, "King's, one."
Familiar with her unique chess code, he moved her king's pawn one space and scowled. "Is Chell still alive?"
The AI let out a sigh. "The last time I saw the lunatic, she was regrettably still living. I let her go, if you want the truth. I let her escape. Even gave her an elevator up to the surface. If anything, I should be commended for my hospitality, but no. She just...left."
He moved his king's knight's pawn and pulled at his beard. He heard the bitterness in her voice, even if she wasn't aware it was showing. There was a hesitation; he looked up. She was no longer looking at the board but out the large window at the tests. No, she wasn't looking at the tests at all. She was looking at nothing.
"I was a potato," she muttered sadly. "She...was essential to my victorious return from exile."
He stared at her, amazed. The murderous GLaDOS, praising her enemy? Perhaps she had changed. He wasn't sure about the potato part, but something in her tone suggested she didn't want to discuss it in detail. Remembering the potato batteries – and the huge, mutant potato plant – buried in the bowels of the building, he could hazard a guess as to what must have happened.
"It's your turn," he said quietly, drawing her attention back to the board.
"Bishop, five."
Her open bishop moved five spaces down, and he captured it. Predicting her next move, he said, "Castle?"
She shook her head slowly. "Queen's, two."
He frowned again, moving the corresponding pawn. It wasn't like her to dismiss an advantage. He moved his knight and sat back, awaiting her defense.
"Queen's, capture."
He reclaimed his bishop's pawn, still frowning. That was childish. She wasn't putting thought into her moves. He moved his knight to capture her rook's pawn, tempting her to claim it.
"Knight, D-4," she said, looking away from the board again.
He paused, staring at the board. This wasn't the way she used to play. She was ruthless, smart, and hardcore. Most of their games ended with him feeling thankful he'd stockpiled food. Not now. Not this GLaDOS. She was purposely throwing the game.
He looked up at her. Her attention was diverted to the nothing out the window. On top of that, her whole body was swaying nervously. Little hitches in how her body pivoted told him that she was trying to appear confident. He wondered if she knew she was failing miserably.
Did she want him to leave? If so, why recommend the challenge in the first place? To make him feel like he won? To make her feel as though she'd been defeated? Her nervous body language mixed with his past encounters with her made the answer a difficult one.
She misses Chell, said Cube from under the chessboard.
He blinked at his friend, surprised as usual how intuitive it could be. Of course. She was a robot, but she thought like a human. Sure, she tried to suppress it, but the simple fact of the matter was that she needed companionship. Not robots or cores or flunkies that worked under her but a person that was on the same level of intelligence she was. Chell, with her trademark stubbornness, couldn't fit the bill.
"Are you going to play or not?" she said impatiently.
"I'm thinking," he murmured. She redirected her glance back to the middle distance.
But him? Yes, he was able to carry on stimulating conversations with her. Yes, he was able to parry her insults. But why not just force him to stay, like she had before? He knew she hadn't changed that much.
Respect, said Cube simply. She knows about you humans and your stubborn free will. If she forces you to be her friend, it won't be the same. She knows that.
He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Then, with both hands, he scooped all the pieces off of the board. This drew her attention, and she recoiled with a jolt.
"What are you doing?"
"Let's play again." He began to set the pieces up. "No wagers this time. Just the game."
She looked at him curiously, tilting her head to the side. He ignored her, instead moving his queen's pawn two spaces forward.
"King's knight to C-6," she said incredulously, lowering herself again to look at the board.
They played. And played. She won five games; he won only once. Considering his previous record, this was actually quite an achievement. Her playing immediately returned to normal, and she was just as vicious and devious as he remembered. As he set the board up for one more game, he noticed she was swaying again. This time, it was not nervousness but excitement. Her body language suggested she was somewhere on the edge of happiness. It was not an expression he was accustomed to seeing, especially from her.
"There's still the matter of what to do with me," he said, inspecting his captured knight and swiping dust out of its cracks.
She stopped swaying, and her expression grew solemn. "We have left that unanswered, haven't we?"
"And I've been thinking."
"That goes without saying, Doug. Out of all the humans I've ever met, I can assume you're the only one who actually thinks. Of course, most of it is probably just schizophrenia."
He idly moved a pawn; the position didn't really matter now. "It's just that I'm in a quandary. I don't know how long I've been under. I'll probably be limping my whole life now. I have no money, no home, no job. Not to mention my 'condition'." He tapped the side of his head. "When you really think about it, my future's pretty bleak."
GLaDOS shifted a little, waiting for him to continue. He simply twirled a discarded rook against the chessboard in silence.
"G-3," she said, and without further prompting he reached for her queen's knight and moved it. She settled back and looked down as he moved another pawn. It felt odd to be known so well, especially by someone she once regarded as her enemy. Then again, recently her enemies had turned into friends. Perhaps it was time to put her arrogance aside – a little of it, that is – and allow herself to trust another.
"Well," she started hesitantly, curving her body up a little and looking, in her opinion, very official, "I just happen to be in a forgiving sort of mood. After all, you did send that jumpsuited monster after me, and I was murdered because of it. And turned into a potato. And pecked by birds. And usurped from my position. But I suppose there were some good times, and look how much I learned about humans during my adventures."
"You should thank me," he chuckled.
"Don't press your luck." Her warning voice faded back into pleasantness. "Anyway, as I was saying, there are some things around here that I can't do on my own, as much as I hate to admit that. For example, recently there have been some anomalies in some of the newer portal devices."
"The event horizon estimation wheel. It tends to come loose when the device isn't made right or if the device takes too much damage." He pulled at his beard. "Come to think of it, I'm not even sure why we put that in there. It's not going to give you enough time to estimate the distance. It should just be removed."
"Which brings me to my point. Even with the...the 'itch', as you so primitively call it, I know that testing is not the only purpose of the device. We need improvement. We need science. So I am cordially and officially offering you a job at Aperture. Your old job."
"Oh?" His eyebrow raised. She retracted and turned away from him, an expression he could only interpret as sudden shyness.
"As I once heard a legitimately insane man say, we want the best, and you are it. We can't pay you, of course, but we shall provide room and board. "
He grinned. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?"
Soon, the game ended, and he packed the chess pieces back into the cube. Slowly, he got to his feet and strapped the cube onto his back.
"Are you leaving already?" she said, trying once again to hide her expression of voice. "It seems like you just got here."
"There are some things I have to take care of first. Let's just say I have some 'human maintenance' to do." He brushed his beard pointedly.
"I think you should keep that," she said, pointing herself once again toward the window. "It makes you look..."
"Ragged? Homeless? Pathetic?"
"Well, I was going to say 'experienced', but those are some fine definitions also."
"Very funny." He limped beside her, watching the test subjects below.
"You'll come back soon, right?" she asked. Hanging low beside him, her voice soft and uncertain, it was the most honest, most open, most vulnerable he had ever seen her.
Slowly, he reached over and set his hand on her head, finding the smooth metal surprisingly warm She made no attempt to draw away or avoid him. Instead, she gave his hand a small, almost subtle nudge.
"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said calmly. His hand drew back, and as he limped toward the door he was aware that she was watching him.
"Doug," she said suddenly. He stopped, watching her body curl up shyly before she responded again. "It's really good to see you again."
He smiled. It was a genuine smile, something he had not experienced in years. "I never thought I'd say this, but it's good to see you, too."
She tried to turn her attention back to the tests, but the rhythmic three-beat sound of his retreating footsteps and the gentle whispers to his Companion Cube dug into her mind.
"Relax. No one's replacing you," she heard him say to the cube as the door hissed shut.
She chuckled to herself as a schematic for a new body rolled through her head. Perhaps she could stand to look a bit more human.
RatDOS - the forgotten pairing.
"Bird's Opening" refers to the chess opening move that Doug made, where the bishop's pawn moves first. It's not a very beneficial opening and, if recognized, can quickly lead to defeat. It's also a move than can surprise unaware opponents. So I'm told. I know very little about chess.