Let's Begin Another Story on the Shadowy Sea...

He was going to be sick.

He was the owner of the second biggest applied sciences company on the planet; he couldn't believe his men hadn't gotten rid of sea-sickness already. Someone was going to get fired as soon as he could see straight. Everything swam in and out with the water lapping against the side of the boat, and he felt his lunch was going to ebb away with it at any moment.

He hated boats. Couldn't stand them, and certainly couldn't stand on them. Sink them all, in his opinion. Give them a nice burial at sea and the world would be a better place. Amidst the nausea and the mounting headache, he struggled to remember why he'd gotten on the damn boat in the first place.

"…nson? Mr. Johnson, Mr. Ryan would like to see you on the deck."

Right.

Cave Johnson swallowed thickly, standing slowly, his head swimming and lunch repeating on him. "Thank you Caroline." He said, voice gruff with the twisting in his stomach as he looked to the woman. He saw her standing there, a ghostly doppelganger on either size of her. "All three of you are a gem." He braced himself against the door frame as the woman looked back, concerned as he gave a little hurp and straightened himself out, trying to seem more presentable than ill in the company of Andrew Ryan.

Of course he'd brought Caroline with him; it was his one condition, when Ryan's reps sent for him, he told them, he said "I'm not getting on any damned boat unless my secretary's by my side." Because that was just how he operated. Aperture wasn't Aperture without Caroline, after all. Whole place would have fallen to shambles without her, and while part of him figured he should have left her back on land to watch over the eggheads back at the Facility, he had to have her at his meetings. She was his secretary, after all, and a meeting like this—

Cave blinked rapidly as the lovely woman guided him back up to the deck – he was sure if she hadn't been there, he would have found himself wandered into a supply closet, with how turned-around he was on this damn boat. Oh, no doubt, it was a lovely boat. Nothing industrial about it, not like the iron monstrosities he'd seen in the harbor, the others that had shuttled his supplies into the middle of the god forsaken Pacific Ocean, of all places.

This boat was almost as lovely as Caroline; the perfect balance of beauty and business. The rooms themselves were huge and richly decorated with velvets and gold and leathers as far as the eye could see. Mr. Ryan was, without doubt to Mr. Johnson, a man of taste. And like Mr. Johnson, Mr. Ryan could afford to be.

Cave Johnson stumbled up the last few steps, following Caroline's direction to the man standing starboard, looking out at the sea. While Cave was dressed a little more casually, his suit jacket having begun to feel awfully constricting about an hour ago in his cabin, Ryan stood straight, immaculately dressed from tip-to-coattails in Kiton. Ryan was a sharp-looking man. He was a man who looked like he knew what he was about, and that was Cave Johnson's kind of man. Cave just wished that he'd known what Ryan was about. This whole operation had been so hush-hush that no details had been shared with the exception of the loading information and the invitation upon Ryan's personal cruiser.

"A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Johnson." He said, his voice more nasal than Cave remembered it, heavy with a New York accent. He shook hands with the man – a firm grip – and Ryan turned back to the sea, hands clasped behind his back and chin level. It'd been almost ten years since the two tycoons had been face to face, in a meeting at the emergence of Aperture Science. Ryan had turned down Cave's proposals, but they'd maintained a hell of a business relationship despite the circumstances. And now here they were, floating in the middle of the damned Pacific, and it looked like those proposals had finally interested Ryan.

"Likewise!" Cave boomed. He was a loud man himself; that was something that Ryan remembered about him. He commanded attention, respect, through his voice and confident posture. He respected that in a man, and Cave Johnson exuded it. "I appreciate the invitation." He nodded, swallowing nausea thickly, jaw set. "No place like the open sea, eh, Ryan?"

He hummed, rolling his shoulders, slate eyes roaming the darker waters. "Indeed. A sense of… " he trailed off, fishing for the word.

"Tranquility?"

"Power."

In Ryan's opinion, there was nothing tranquil about the sea, its constantly rolling waves, the erosion of the earth ever so slowly; strong currently pulling to and fro. It was an immense, ancient power that man could not touch, no matter how hard he tried. There was no reigning in the ocean. There was no ceasing the waves. One could only float along top of them, with hopes that the seas were kind to you, leaving you alive at the end of your journey.

There was a hungry look in his features, the thin mustache twitching up with his lips. The ocean was immovable power, and the only way to conquer it, Ryan believed, was to be immovable yourself. To brave the currents and be unaffected, undeterred, untouched.

To be more powerful than the ocean.

Ryan took a deep breath, the moment of reflection passing as the waves trundled against the hull of the boat fare below them. He gave a small bounce of the shoulders, as if jump-starting himself. "I'd like to congratulate you, Mr. Johnson."

"Thank you." Cave said promptly, with a little nod that set his equilibrium teetering dangerously for a moment. No sudden movements. "Can I ask what for?"

"Aperture Science is a fine company. You're quite the entrepreneur, Mr. Johnson. I admire that in a man." Ryan elaborated. "You started with no more to your name than a bit of land and a handful of shower curtains, and yet you made a name for yourself. Now you create miracles of man in your laboratories."

Cave felt a swell in his chest that had nothing to do with the seasickness. His pride and ego were both very easily inflated, and he was oblivious to any criticism. "The way I see it, is we at Aperture Science do what we must, Because we can." He said, matter-of-factly, the beginnings of a grin on his lips. Ryan knew this – it was what had gotten the two tycoons in the same boat, quite literally, to begin with, but it was one of Cave's not-so-subtle guilty pleasures to remind people.

"You've done outstanding work in every area that Aperture has applied itself to. You've got the most intelligent team of scientists on the planet – Rattmann, Suchong – the best of the best. Better than those Black Mesa rats, riding on the shoulders of giants the likes of Aperture Science!"

Cave was simply basking in the compliments. He chuckled thickly, looking down in a poorly applied attempt at humility. He knew they were the best, and Ryan knew he knew.

"Do you know why I've invited you here today, Mr. Johnson?" Ryan asked, seeming unfazed by Cave's blatant pride. An accomplished man deserved to be proud, in Ryan's eyes. To diminish one's own accomplishments for the comfort of the ego of those around you was a waste, a lie, and entirely unnecessary, especially in his company.

"Well I'm sure as hell it wasn't to enjoy the scenery." He said, looking out at the flat nothing, rolling waves seeming repetitive for miles and miles.

"Sharp as always. Mr. Johnson, I'm sure you've heard of my most recent hires, McDonough and the Wales brothers." Cave had heard of the Wales brothers – damn famous they were, brilliant architects. "And I'm sure you've heard of the… misunderstandings I've had with the Federal Bureau of Investigation – I assure you, no part of my operation is illegal."

"Old Andrew Ryan, running an illegal operation? Unheard of. Didn't believe it for a second. But you know the damn Feds. A man can't take a piss in private without them knowing about it!"

"And a man has a right to privacy." Ryan nodded. "That is why I have been so secretive about my project. I value privacy, Mr. Johnson, autonomy, as I know you do, with your Testing Initiative. But there must come a time when you share your secrets with others, if you ever want to make a vision come to fruition."

"Is that so?" Cave asked. The conversation had taken a sharp turn into interesting, and his seasickness, while still pulling at his stomach, was largely forgotten. Not many knew about Ryan's operation out here in the middle of blasted nowhere – and those who did were too scared or too well-protected to talk about it. But if Ryan was going to chat so freely about it with him, he was all ears!

"I have spent my life on this earth, Mr. Johnson, and do you know what I have learned?" Cave grunted a no. "I have learned that no man," he paused, heaving a pointed sigh, "is free. Not even the so called 'great nation' that we for now call home affords men their freedom. No… this world is fraught with leeches that will suck you of your livelihood the moment you reach out to greet them… parasites, if you will." Ryan leaned forward against the railing, arms stiff as he held himself up. "And I have grown tired of them. I envision a world where men are truly free. You have come close, Mr. Johnson, with your company, the miracles of man that you create, but even you are held down by a government of parasites, watching your every move, exploiting you, controlling you in ways you can't even imagine. I envision a world where your work can continue, unregulated, unrestrained, uninhibited. I envision a world where men are free of those who propagate the myth of a God to whom every man owes devotion. Man owes devotion to no one but Man. Devotion to the self, I say, free of the shackles of altruism. But my vision, my utopia, my monument to mankind, has no place on this earth, Mr. Johnson."

There was a pause, and Ryan's fingers tapped pointedly against the railing before them. He looked out to the sea in deep thought, eyes scanning the blue as if looking for an answer in its depths. There was silence between the two tycoons for some time, and Cave thought perhaps Ryan had forgotten he was there. It wouldn't be the first time the man got utterly lost in his thoughts and entrepreneurial fantasies. Then all at once, he pushed himself away from the railing, hands in his pockets as he rounded Cave. "Your laboratories are subterranean, are they not, Mr. Johnson?" Ryan asked, staring out at the water that Cave was trying desperately to ignore. It was certainly not the direction Cave had been hoping the conversation to take. They'd talked enough about Aperture, and as nice as it would have been for Ryan to keep serving him compliments on a silver platter, Cave was itching to pry about the North Pacific Project he'd heard so many rumors about.

"Right you are, Ryan." He said with a careful nod. "Deepest laboratories on Earth."

Aperture's laboratories extended miles below the earth's surface – so far, that many of the facility's employees resided in the employee housing on site, to reduce commute time from the surface to their workplace. They worked miracles down there, away from the prying eyes of both the nosy public and their rival companies. If Black Mesa could see him now, cavorting with the likes of Andrew Ryan, they'd soil themselves for sure. A deal with a man like Ryan put you on the map. It said, without a doubt, 'Aperture Science is the best'. And as soon as Ryan was willing to go public with his project, the world would know it. They'd run Black Mesa right out of the business.

There was a bright future ahead of Aperture Science, Cave knew, even as he stood staring out at the vast blue nothing for miles—

Allright, scratch that. Vast blue nothing for miles, except that tall, bulky something approaching over the horizon. He squinted, leaning a bit over the railing as if it would make a difference, and looked to Ryan for an answer.

The man was smiling.

Cave straightened, a small line appearing between his brows and his mouth set in a gentle frown. He had listened attentively to Ryan's speech, had found himself agreeing with much of what the man said. How he'd dreamed of having a safe haven for his company, free from investigation or regulation or conflicting ethics. He'd often dreamed about a bigger, better Aperture, a company so vast, so innovative, that it would take the secrets of the world, patent them, and package them, and slap them on a plastic lunchbox, and sell them to the highest bidder – and people would buy, with stars or fire in their eyes, and deep respect for Aperture Science.

But then investigation after carefully-evaded investigation had slammed them; missing astronauts, blood poisoning, cancer, and Cave's vision of a manifest destiny for his company had become a pipe dream. And even though he didn't know how, he knew he was being handed a chance for that old vision to become a reality. Andrew Ryan, one of the most influential men on the planet, had brought him here to resurrect his dream in larger-than-life proportions, and that notion set an electrical buzz in his chest.

Ryan waited another moment or two, and the thing slowly came into focus over the edge of the Earth, as they approached. It was a lighthouse, tall and plain. A slick staircase seemed to jut out from the rocky base, disappearing into the waters below, and a set of doors were set in the south side of the structure, huge and arching and every bit as plain as the rest of the lighthouse. The beacon wasn't operating – broken or shut off, Cave couldn't tell - and it lit nothing but Ryan's eyes.

"Mr. Johnson," he said, looking over at the man, hands coming from behind his back to rest in his pockets. The light in his eye shone almost as bright as the beacon would have, and Cave felt like he was going to very soon be subjected to a hell punchline.

"How would you like to go lower?"