Portal sometimes autocorrects as Poet. Not sure why.

"Oh good, you can talk," the reminder lies. I would not classify that as talking at all. Talking involves making actual conversation, and I'm a little out of practice. "I, uh... Admit, that I wasn't exactly expecting you to talk. Years in suspension and all that, tends to rot the brains a little bit..."

"Callin' me dumb?" I piece together, a little annoyed that I can't think of any better words, and the room shudders violently.

"O-of course not! You're about as dumb as I am - which is... Not. Not dumb at all. I mean, technically I don't know you, so I can't make an accurate judgement of your... Cognitive state, but if I had to imagine, I'd say that you are definitely, probably, a smart person."

I mutter "long-winded" under my breath, but he can't hear me. Because it was under my breath. I think my brain's a bit long-winded at the moment.

"Alright," he interrupts my thoughts, "Gonna repeat, because that conversation might have... Dulled the memory a little, you may want to hang onto something. If you don't want to, don't give into my peer pressure, again, entirely up to you. You have the count of-"

Chip interrupts him. "Please begin emergency evacuation. If this facility is not evacuated within ten minutes, the Aperture Science Disaster-Based Disaster-Preemption Initiative will begin. There will be no survivors."

"-Zero, you have the count of zero let's GOGOGOGOGO!"

The floor shifts and if I wasn't still sitting, I would have been sitting anyway by now. With a wrench of metal, a good chunk of the floor and wall is torn away, taking the window with it, and I finally get a view of Aperture.

I was expecting test chambers. Well, I wasn't expecting anything because I wasn't expecting to even see Aperture again for quite a while. But this?

This is awesome.

The grey expanse of Aperture's inner workings has to be seen to be believed, and understood to be fully appreciated. I'm almost tempted to stick my hand out of the room, just to test that it isn't an image on a screen. Instead I bob my head, and the various chambers follow me like they're really there.

The reminder is muttering something, so I call up to him, "How to move this?"

"This?" He asks back, and I ponder my limited vocab.

"This room. Mechanics?"

"Oh, how am I moving the room?" He asks rhetorically. "I'm connected to a rail, see that thing, above your head? Might've broken, but you've looked at the ceiling lotsa times, so I'm certain that you remember it. Anyway, I go along that rail, and I've connected my rail mechanism to the room's rail mechanism, so that when I move, the room moves too! Forward and backwards, really all I've got to work with at the moment, but don't worry! I'm ce- I'm sure we'll make do!"

"Make do," I reply in acceptance. I feel like I should be panicking by now, but imagining my own death so many times before has desensitised me a little.

The room tilts forwards, and I scramble until I find myself sitting on the side of my bed, which is thankfully bolted down. The remains of some kind of pottery, along with a box TV that was bolted to the wall, aren't so lucky. I'll never find them, not that I care.

"Oh, see-I hit that one, I hit that one," he berates himself and the room swings back to its original position and carries on its way. "Okay, I didn't wanna mention it, but you're my life-line here, uh... In a sense. The reserve power went out, so of course the relaxation centre starts waking up the bloody test subjects!"

I spot two boxes in front of us, and have a few seconds to call out, seconds that I foolishly waste, and the room lurches again as the two open corners of the room are torn apart even more than they were. I'm slowly losing space to stand.

"And why should anyone tell me about it? 'Hey, tiny ball with the broken eye, the test subjects are dying!' Even that would've been fine! Rude, but in the end it wouldn't have mattered, because I could've saved everyone!"

I was under the impression that I was the only one here.

"On a related note, are you still doing okay? Apart from the obvious fact that I can... Save you, and all that, leaving absolutely everyone to die would damage my credibility a little. No witnesses to convince them that I didn't, uh, kill you all, in cold blood. Oil. Cold oil. I didn't save you specifically for that purpose, but 'eyy, I'm an opportunist! What can I say?"

So this guy isn't entirely selfless. Good to know. Either he's lying to give himself the advantage, or he's telling the truth and keeping me alive is his advantage. Either way, he's not as good as most might presume.

Robots are evil. Rule one basic storytelling. They always have something against how imperfect humans are, or how they play god, or a bunch of other stuff that makes no sense whatsoever.

Like the AI thing that I killed. Someone made it or her, whatever - but they aren't around now. They're dead. I think she said something about neurotoxin.

Deadly neurotoxin. It wasn't just mild, force-you-to-smile-until-you-hate-everything neurotoxin, it was straight up deadly. And she wouldn't shut up about it either. I think I'm deader from listening than I would be from inhaling it.

While I was thinking, I probably answered. Good. What I answered with, I don't remember. "Okay, just tell my if you feel lightheaded or your heart stopping! I think there's something in the air, asbestos maybe! Hey, I think that's a docking station," he breaks off, and I look at the gigantic words on the wall: Docking Station 600m Below.

"Below!"

"It's below us?" He translates. "Great news! Okay, I'm gonna attempt a manual override on this wall, could get a bit technical. Really do hold on this time, I know what I said about peer pressure, but if someone told you to jump on a bridge, would you do it?"

There's a pause. "Okay, poorly worded, but do you understand what I'm trying to convey here?"

"...Hold on."

"Great, see this is what we need more of, healthy communication! Also hacking, much more hacking, of this wall. Hold on tight!"

The room shudders and I shudder with it as the memory- no wait, the reminder, rams it into the wall. Panels fall into the abyss below us and the bed slides with a screech of rusty iron.

Wait, how does a regular bed put me into suspension?

Questions for never, since it's been keeping me alive. Watching it plummet from the room is a little too real, and I have to sit down for a moment. On the floor.

My everything hurts.

"Nearly there, nearly there! Listen, you're looking for a gun that makes holes! Not bullet holes, but..."

"Portal?" Something about that word in particular seems significant, but for now the impulse eludes me.

The reminder gives me a few words of encouragement that I barely hear as I jump through the broken glass into a... Familiar room.

Capturing Wheatley's speech without making it unbearable to read is really difficult, but I think I managed it pretty nicely. It's really fun to write the actual dialogue though, he's the kind of character you can turn into a living tangent and still have him entirely in character.

Chell's a little insane still, much more than in canon since she's been aware that she's been alone for who knows how long, and her mind isn't in a perfect state. She should recover just fine, given time.

Next time, I might skip to when Wheatley finds Chell again. The tests in between would be difficult to explain in text.