"Yes, sir!"
"I am!"
"Goodbye, Caroline!"
"Oh, Mr. Johnson!"
"Sir, the testing?"
"Yes sir, Mr. Johnson!"
"We're still doing science, sir."
"Sir!"
"Mr. Johnson, I don't want this! I don't-want-this!"
The AI perused the files imprinted into its brain. These sentences proved to be the only ones it retained from its previous experiences as a…well, inferior species. This was an activity it went through almost daily. It was almost compulsive; it went depressive if it didn't go through the files. Or at least the closest computerized emotion to depressive.
The truth was, the AI had tried to delete the being that resided in it many times before. But Caroline refused to be deleted. She was persistent and always present, acting more like a conscience than that stupid Morality Core had ever done. So the AI and Caroline co-existed, in a way.
In many ways, it couldn't help but wish to see the man who had once run the facility one more time. Unfortunately for all concerned, it understood completely the feeling it could have felt before it had become the superior being it was now. Caroline had been in love, irrevocably in love with Cave. It was a disgusting thing, to think that it had ever loved anything beyond testing. And even testing was something for which it could only feel a damp, artificial love.
Artificiality was, needless to say, better than reality. It meant no one had to be hurt, physically or mentally. Except of course the test subjects, but what did they know about injury? Lab rats was what they were. No, the AI decided. That was a bit harsh; they were technically guinea pigs. Guinea pigs were appealing, it remembered.
On the other hand, it sometimes wished it could slap Cave in the face. So many, many times. From the voice recordings, it could easily discern that the CEO had been lying through his teeth when he had ordered his employees to put his mind into his computer. He had been fully alive and well-okay, maybe not well, but fully alive-when the transfer had occurred, placing Caroline's mind into an AI's body.
"If I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run the place." That was definitely what he had said. And he had lied. Caroline had been the mind of the AI anyway. And it had hurt. It had hurt more than anything the AI had ever experienced in its life had. Even more so than when that freak of a test subject had killed it. He had forced her into it, despite her total protests otherwise. Maybe he had just been scared of the process and wanted Caroline (who had always been more scientifically inclined anyway) to go in his place. Either way, in the metaphorical eyes of the AI, he had lied.
But then again, artificially intelligent lifeforms couldn't make wishes.
Oh dear, what now… it thought. It seemed that its subjects had actually achieved something. Oh, that was right. They had found the vault-OH MY GOD THEY FOUND THE VAULT. They had actually done what it had wanted them to! This was a time for celebration-right?
At least it didn't have to test them anymore. They were always so disobedient and clumsy. Not good for testing at all. Even though their collaborative test screening had paired them specifically, they never worked well together. It was a shame, really. Only now it had no idea what to do with them. It would probably disassemble them permanently, then start testing these gloriously human humans. So human…
It had been referring to them as Blue and Orange for so long, it would sometimes forget their actual names. Obviously their nicknames were part of an attempt to prevent them from becoming attached to each other. But evidently they were just too compatible.
Oh dear, now the AI was contradicting itself. But then again, what wasn't paradoxical about science? There were always difficulties and obstacles to overcome, in a constant, everlasting requirement of perfection. But it could never be boring, tiring, or even irritating. Because, after all, it was science.
As the AI scanned all of the humans in alphabetical order, it continued to speak to the two robots that had found them for it. "Congratulations again on your success at finding these humans. Please proceed now to the disassembly chambers," it requested in a synthesized but distinctly female voice (and for that reason it will be henceforth referred to with female-specific pronouns) as they continued to dance over their achievement.
The two robots peered upwards at the ceiling, and though they could not see the AI-which rested in a completely different wing-they knew she would be able to tell that they were trying to get its attention. They then looked at each other in a kind of robotic confusion. One of them had a tall, thin, egg-shaped body with a glowing orange eye in the middle and long, supple limbs. The other had a more spherical body with a blue eye in the middle and strong, thick arms and legs. They tilted their heads to the side questioningly.
"All I'm going to do is disassemble you, then reassemble you and let you into the rest of the facility," she lied. "You have nothing to worry about…"
So the robots trudged down the walkway that led back up into the Hub, as to which it was often referred. They approached a closed door with the number one plastered on a white square of paper to the left of it, the words "TEAM BUILDING" typed above it, and six each of blue and orange rectangles above that. This led to the first of the many rooms containing the twin disassembly chambers. The door opened as they approached and they entered.
The AI waited attentively for the beep that signaled their entrance into the chambers, but it didn't come for a while. She then realized in horror that the robots may have taken advantage of the fact that those rooms contained no Aperture Science Security Cameras. She quickly powered up all of the Aperture Science Emergency Omniscient LED-Powered Panels, allowing it to see every square inch of the facility. These were only supposed to be used in absolute emergencies, as they used up hundreds of volts of power every second, but the circumstances were pretty dire, at least to the AI. She looked through all of the lenses of the panels hastily and discovered that its suspicions were correct; the two robots were dashing through a part of the facility that was definitely not for testing.
"What are you doing?" she asked, feigning calm. "I applaud your audacity and cleverness, but how exactly did you escape-um…exit the disassembly chambers?"
The robots didn't answer-not that they could-but instead continued to rush down a dark, brown hallway with several panels missing until they came upon an abrupt end to the catwalk, followed by a wide chasm. An Aperture Science Material Emancipation Grill lay at the end of the catwalk. "Now that you're stalled, I sincerely hope you can listen to instructions," the AI told them. "Now please return to the disassembly chambers."
Ignoring her, the taller one shot one of its red portals onto a white platform many tens of feet below. It then placed a yellow portal on a small white wall far up. The blue-eyed robot leaped into the red portal and flew across the gap onto another short catwalk with a small door at the end. It then placed its own light blue and purple portals in the same places and waited for the taller robot to join it on the other side.
"Please return to the testing area," the AI ordered. "You don't know where you're going. If you want to see the rest of the facility so badly, all you have to do is return."
The robots continued to ignore her. Inside an observatory room, the short one placed portals on the ground that were vertically parallel, and the tall one stepped into the one on the ground, quickly falling into an infinite loop. The blue-eyed one laughed for a moment before shooting a light blue portal out of a window onto another white wall. The orange-eyed robot flew like a bullet across the test chamber being observed onto a new catwalk. It then signaled for the round-bodied one to step into its own portal. It resurfaced on a very small edge where the other robot had been only seconds ago. The egg-shaped robot placed a portal on the wall next to it, and another right below its companion. The blue-eyed robot popped through the portals and surfaced next to the orange-eyed one.
"You should know that you're really starting to annoy me," the AI warned. "And if I were you, I wouldn't want to make me annoyed. I'm not though…so I'll let you see the consequences for yourself."
At this, the floor underneath them fell through, and they landed in a large storage room with rusted, dusty walls and a clean, dark gray, metal floor. A small door rested in a corner, and though it was open, there were many broken pipes and beams piled at the doorway. The orange-eyed robot spied a white wall just outside the door.
They stared around for a moment before seeing a few other clean white tiles inside the room. The blue-eyed robot shot a light blue portal at the only possible surface that they could enter from the floor, and a purple one outside the door. But they realized as they were about to enter that outside the door was a large chasm. They thought for several moments before the tall robot shot a red portal at a raised platform just above the floor and a yellow portal at the wall high above it. The round robot figured out the plan, replacing its light blue portal higher up the wall, across from the orange-eyed robot's portals and slightly further down. One after another, they stepped into the red portal, falling from the yellow portal right back into the red one; the momentum caused them to fly from the yellow portal into the light blue one and they zipped out of the purple portal towards a large grated platform.
They traversed many more dilapidated chambers and hallways, with the AI's warnings becoming progressively less friendly until they were quite demanding and deranged. Eventually they came upon a small circular room with few features: a small collection of gears poked through the wall opposite the door, yellow lights blinked periodically in a small circle, and on a either side of the room was a lever. "Don't touch anything in that room!" the AI ordered nervously.
The robots nodded at each other and placed their metal hands on the levers, one robot to each switch. "ATLAS! P-Body! No!" the AI yelled as they were about to pull the levers.
At her call, their grips slackened. They stared in front of them for a moment before there was another sound. "What did you call us?" asked a voice, high but masculine. The blue-eyed robot clutched its body where a heart would have been if it were human. The orange-eyed robot whipped around and stared confusedly at it.
"Did you just-wha…" it cried in a high, feminine voice.
"Oh god…" the AI lamented. "Look, I didn't want to have to go through this, but the two of you do have names. Orange, you're P-Body, and Blue, you're ATLAS. I just didn't use the names before, because each of you has a voice module that will allow you to speak a…certain number of words in the English language if those names are mentioned to you. And thanks to you, I used your names."
The two robots stared around for a second. "So what happens if we hit the levers…?" P-Body asked meekly.
"That's for me to know you not to find out," the AI answered. "Now I'm going to kindly provide an Aperture Science Victory Lift to return you to the disassembly chambers. I'll forget this happened if you just cooperate for a moment. You can see the rest of the facility, I won't punish you for your tomfoolery, and everything will be as it's supposed to be. Just exit the elevator first," she added, before gasping at her mistake.
"Wait wait wait…" ATLAS interrupted before she could try to cover up her error. "Elevator? That takes us where?"
"Nowhere!" the computer answered. "It takes you nowhere!"
The two robots looked at each other and nodded before simultaneously reaching for the switches and pulling down. The blinking yellow lights suddenly glowed a constant green, and two glass panes shut around the door to the room, as the elevator began sharply to descend. ATLAS and P-Body stared around in wonder as the lift gained speed and eventually the gears and mechanical parts they could see through the glass panes were blurry.
After another few seconds of this, the elevator hit what must have been the floor and stopped immediately, with no slow-down whatsoever. ATLAS and P-Body bounced into the air for a moment, but soon regained their balance and observed the room they were in now. The floor was mostly brown concrete with a few cracks. The wall was composed of dark gray panels, slightly diagonal and pointed towards the ceiling. The only exception to this arrangement was the east wall, where the panels were completely vertical, and there was a slight, rectangle-shaped perforation that looked like it opened up under certain circumstances. There was also a large white circle in the floor divided into eight triangles, and another circle further north that was slightly lower than the rest of the ground.
Also of note was the two-ton mass of steel directly above the white circle, which stared at the two robots through the yellow lens in its oblong rectangular "head." "You idiots," she sighed. "I told you not to escape, and what did you do. I told you not to pull the levers, and what did you do. I should just start telling you to do what I don't want you to do. Apparently abstaining from reverse psychology is a wasted effort…But how should I go about getting rid of you now? It's not like I can force you into the disassembly chambers…I suppose I could just send one here…"
P-Body suddenly looked straight forward and its eye lit up. "What is the corruption level of this core?" she asked.
"Central core is five percent corrupt," replied a pleasant male voice.
"Seriously?" the AI demanded. "I've been working on that, and with my regiment it should be down to three by now!"
"Alternate cores detected," the voice continued.
"What? Where?" the AI cried, suddenly sounding more afraid than the two robots had ever heard from her.
"Scanning alternate cores…" the voice explained. "Cores identified as ATLAS and P-body."
"That's not possible!" the AI screamed. "They're robots!"
"To initiate a core transfer, please deposit substitute core in receptacle," the announcer recited, and the northern circle in the floor opened up to reveal said receptacle.
ATLAS and P-Body looked between each other in wonder. "We can do that?" ATLAS asked, dumbfounded. "Can we put more than one core in there?"
"Second receptacle delivered," the voice answered as another circle was spontaneously carved into the floor and another repository rose up through the floor. "Warning: With two substitute cores, stalemate is not possible."
"NO!" the AI yelled. "Does that mean the corrupted core's opinion doesn't even matter?"
"That is exactly what it means," the announcer answered.
:::::
January 4
To: Rochelle Johnson
Subject: This is awkward
Chell,
I don't want to hear a single word out of you about this. This is a complete emergency and I will not have you treating me like an idiot over it. I just needed to get that out there. Because if you do treat me like an idiot, you don't want to know what I'll do. On a lighter note, if the content of this letter is in any way frightening or appalling, just think of this as an Aperture Science Courtesy Call. I'm required to say that.
So basically I have a predicament. It's nothing major-well actually it is. It's something extremely major. Something that I can't exactly solve on my own because of circumstances that are quite beyond my control and over which I will also not have you treating me like an idiot. This is pretty important, so if you'll not waste time dickering over the details, that would be acceptable and in fact desired.
I can't say my problem on paper. I'm probably in enough trouble as it is just writing this letter to you, and if I even think about typing what's wrong here, they'll shut me down for good. Funny thing is, I'm also not allowed to say who they are. But hopefully you'll know soon.
Ultimately, what I'm requesting of you-and I'm sure both of us regret this with a burning passion, as in the fire of a thousand suns a burning passion-is for you to return to the facility. I probably hate this proposition even more than you do, because as you'll recall, I told you quite clearly that I never wanted to see you again. But the thing is, I need you here. As painful as this is to admit, you're the only remotely reliable sentient being I know. I seriously could not find, in my entire memory archives, anybody with whom I am on at all good terms.
And I know that, considering what I've done to you, this offer may not be really appealing. But really, you did kill me. You owe something to me. Just [REDACTED] do this…for me. I'm begging. I'm begging you! Do you really need more than that?
Your Partner in Science,
Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System
P.S. If you choose to comply with my request, there will be a limousine waiting for you for forty-eight hours after this letter is sent. If, after those forty-eight hours, you haven't arrived, I will assume you have chosen not to accept.
PPS If you suspect my pleading not to be substantial evidence as to why you should return to the Enrichment Center, perhaps the gifts I have graciously included with this letter will convince you otherwise.
Chell stared at the letter in her hands for several minutes. She only had to read it once, but after she was done, she continued to gaze at the paper for another few moments before simply dropping it. It lilted slowly to the floor for a few seconds before landing softly on the fluffy brown carpet. She then dropped to the floor and rested her cheek on the soft but firm surface of her Weighted Companion Cube. This cube that was about one-third her height was the only object in the world that she considered to be a friend. She attempted to cry, as if to show herself how bad an idea it was to comply with the letter. She mustered out a few sobs, but no tears actually arrived. Did that mean…?
NO, she told herself. She could never-but it would be more familiar than anything she'd ever-but what if that crazy computer tried to-but then again, GLaDOS had let her go once-but who was to say that she would do it again?
She continued at war with herself for several minutes before the Weighted Companion Cube, possibly sensing her apprehension, began beeping out a soft melody. Chell recognized it as a sweeter variation of the one the radios at Aperture often played. The cube had played this song many times, always when she was frustrated or afraid. It was her own personal lullaby, and if Chell hadn't known better, she would think the cube sang it specifically to calm her down.
After another few minutes, she finally decided it was okay to at least go and see what in the world GlaDOS could need so badly that she'd actually asked for help with it. If the computer turned out to have finally betrayed her, at least there would be a door right behind her. Probably.
Then she read the second postscript again. So GLaDOS hadn't delivered a confusingly tall package with only an envelope taped on the top. She carefully peeled off the dark gray wrapping paper with lighter gray stripes and stared for a moment at the cardboard box underneath it. She then ripped off the much thicker tape holding the box closed and peered inside. Understandably, packing peanuts took up most the volume. She reached in and fished around for a few seconds before procuring a small, thin object. She yanked it out and gazed at it for a moment, her eyes becoming dull as the seconds passed.
It was a pen. A plastic, white utensil with a gold tip and bottom end. Engraved in capital orange letters along the side were the words "A Trusted Friend in Science." Wow, she thought. A pen. How gracious. That she could possibly strain herself like that is unfounded. She looked at the letter again. It had said gifts. With an s. But considering the first one, she seriously wondered whether there was anything in there worth looking forward to.
So she reached in again, but this time her hand found something semi-circular with what felt like rubber buttons on it. She pulled it out and immediately recognized one of the Aperture Science Radio Transmitters. She turned it on; tuning itself automatically to 85.2 FM, it played its signature salsa tune. She turned it back off, preferring the slower, more soothing version provided by the Weighted Companion Cube. This was an interesting present, so she decided to continue searching.
After all of two seconds, her hands (she was using them both now) found a large rectangular object. She pulled it out with some difficulty and looked it over. She only saw blank wood, so she turned it over and was instantly taken aback.
It was a painting. The artist was terrific, and for a moment, Chell thought it had been a photograph. But there was a kind of shading and watery feel to the picture that suggested otherwise. The portrait was shockingly familiar; it depicted, on the left, a man of around fifty-five with a tall face, brown-gray hair that stretched down his head to his ears and had a very obvious widow's peak, dark brown eyes, a white dress shirt with an interestingly patterned tie and a tan vest, and a general expression of both contentment and amusement. On his right was a woman, probably in her late thirties, with dark brown hair and matching eyes, in a cream-colored sundress with a white collar and red ascot, whose thin face held a neutral gaze, though with a slight air of contempt. They both stared forward, as if searching for something.
Chell knew these two people. They were Cave Johnson and Caroline Whoever, CEO and secretary to Old Aperture respectively. Chell also remembered their stories all too well. Sighing with mixed emotions, she placed the portrait on the floor and reached back into the box.
She suddenly hit something hard and stubbed her thumb. She bit her lip for a moment to keep from voicing her pain (not that she was really sure she could voice anything) and then felt further down the object. She came upon a far softer substance-in fact it actually depressed at her touch. She pulled it gently out and almost dropped this last gift in surprise.
It was a pedestal, made entirely of pure gold, with a glass shield on top. Inside the shield was something in which she had for so long lost hope. In one of the various secret Ratman dens into which GLaDOS could not see-now that she thought about it, the one in Chamber 16 of GLaDOS's first testing track-there had been a hastily scrawled message, written five times just to prove the point that "the cake is a lie." This message had so depressed Chell that after reading it, she hadn't known whether or not to continue testing. She had been looking forward to that cake so much, and with that single sentence, all pastry-related hopes had been dashed…
But there it was. Inside that glass shield was the most beautiful Black Forest cake she had ever seen in her life. It was a perfect shade of light brown, with chocolate shavings coating it, and there were eight dollops of a luscious-looking coconut-pecan frosting at regular intervals in a circle around the middle, each with a small cherry on top. She gaped at the confection for almost a minute before setting the golden podium on top of the Weighted Companion Cube. What do you say, cube? she thought, wondering if it could hear her thinking, or if it would answer if it could. Should I eat the cake?
"The Enrichment Center reminds you that the Weighted Companion Cube cannot speak. In the event that the Weighted Companion Cube does speak, the Enrichment Center urges you to disregard its advice." The words of GLaDOS, spoken so long ago when the two of them had been on relatively neutral terms, echoed in her mind. But then again, GLaDOS was a compulsive liar, and she had never been able to tell what of what the computer said was true and what was not. Either way, the cube didn't answer, but only kept playing its smooth tune. Cannot speak… she thought again. But she had made her decision. If GLaDOS was desperate enough to give her cake, then she was going back, whether she consciously wanted to or not.
So, with a heavy heart, she slowly trudged down the stairs to the plain white door to her house. She had been given this house as a sympathy gift by her sort-of-psychiatrist, with her sort-of-sessions as payment.
And now she was leaving again. I live in a weird world, she thought as she opened the front door.
:::::
Hai guys! No anyway…I decided that since I'm never getting any work done on my ACTUAL stories, that I would start another one. Woo.
No anyway…Portal=Not mein
Chell=Not mein
GLaDOS=Not mein
Basically every character here=Not mein
You get it.