Chapter Three

The Decision

Chell, in her past life before the facility – before Her – had never gone to a bar, but she had a vague idea that they had evolved somewhat since the time before her awakening. The bar on the lowest level of Krogon Apartment had little in comparison to the bars from the twenty-first century. What alcohol it served was given in small doses, and the atmosphere would be considered homey, more like a café than a bar. The drinks served were mostly non-alcoholic, ranging from coffee drinks to fruit juice. But what the bar was known for was its Midnight Sips.

Midnight Sips were an invention created long after Chell was born, but she had made good use of them after her rediscovery of earth. These were specifically created to help the drinker to sleep, give them good dreams, no dreams, or something completely different. The creation of these beverages had been perfected by the artisans of the craft, and now Midnight Sips were distributed throughout earth, migrating to Mars with the arrival of the colonists.

Morning Sips were also optional, but Chell had no need of those. Coffee did the same thing.

Jack looked up from the bar, his white smile a flash of light in the dimly lit bar. He was a tall man, medium build, with a mop of red-orange hair and a short beard. He considered everyone a friend, but Chell especially, because she needed a friend especially.

"Chell, there's my girl," he greeted her as she sat down, taking in the circles under her eyes, the dejected way she slumped, head downturned. He stooped his own head to make eye contact. "What can I do for you? Midnight Sip?"

Chell nodded.

"Good dreams or no dreams?"

"No dreams."

Both knew that this would be the answer. Chell never asked for dreams.

"Better have 'Blue Twilight', then." Jack turned around and began to prepare the ingredients, shaking the mixture with a twist that would have delighted most viewers, but was completely lost on Chell. Her eyes were fixed on the counter top, nails scratching short lines. She gave a small nod as he delivered the drink but continued to stare at nothing, stirring the liquid dully.

"Can't sleep?" asked Jack, hoping to spark some emotion.

Chell shook her head. "I did, but then…"

"Nightmares again?"

Chell nodded.

Jack smiled sadly. His creed forbade him to pry into Chell's past, but he knew she had gone through something terrible. The best he could do was try and dull the pain. Unfortunately, sometimes that meant backing away before coming forward. He picked up a towel and began to sponge off the countertop.

"Jack?"

Jack looked up again, surprised to see her suddenly animated, her expression tortured. "Yes, Chell?"

"If I ask a question, will you answer?"

Jack rested his elbows on the countertop, listening intently. "To the best of my ability."

Chell looked down again, her hands twisting. It was some time before she spoke again. "What if," she started slowly, "you could save a hundred people from death? You might be able to save them, but if you failed, you would lose everything. Those people would die, anyway, and you would be locked in your worst nightmare, unable to escape except by death." Her voice cracked and petered away into a hoarse whisper. She lay her chin on her clenched hands and bit her knuckle.

Jack pursed his brows, thinking. "What would be the alternative?"

"Do nothing." Her answer was prompt. "Stay where you are. Enjoy your life."

Jack moved away slowly and made himself a coffee drink. His movements were leisurely and he stirred it with thoughtful motions. Chell did not look up the entire time. Jack took a sip, mulling his words over carefully.

"No man would willingly walk into his greatest nightmare," Jack said after great deliberation. "Not unless the odds of return were high and the reward great."

"The odds are low," said Chell. "And the only reward is the life of a hundred people."

Jack nodded. "If your life was one of the hundred, and another was in your place, would you want them to rescue you?"

Chell thought about it. True, she would not want another person to come into Aperture, but she also could not – could not! – go through testing like that again, which was surely what She had in mind. She would test them, then She would kill them. The very thought made her feel sick.

"Yes," she said. Her voice was a low murmur.

"You would think it was wrong if they left you to die in there."

Chell looked up, her eyes blazing. "I know that it would be right to go back and wrong to leave them."

Jack's tone did not shift. She might still have been talking about an imaginary scenario. His smile betrayed no indication of her tense attitude. "Then why are you asking me?"

Chell sat back, rocked to her core. She had not realized that her mind had already changed. Talking the scenario through had brought a sense of decision, brought reason and purpose to the task at hand. If anything went wrong, the only person to risk was herself. Well, and Wheatley. Which reminded her…

"What if your enemy was your guide?" she added.

Jack chuckled softly. "Is it your enemy's worst nightmare, too?"

Chell nodded after a moment of thought.

"Enemies can become friends when sharing a common goal."

Chell's mind went back to dark office buildings far beneath the ground. She remembered words as clearly as if they were said right beside her: "Look, even if you still think we're still enemies, we're enemies with a common interest – revenge. You like revenge, right? Everybody likes revenge. Well, let's go get some!"

Chell made no movement and Jack nudged her Blue Twilight closer. "Drink up," he urged. "I'll see you tomorrow."

()-()

Test Chamber 16 was dangerous. The voice above – GLaDOS – had told her that it had been designed for military androids. Chell entered the chamber with some trepidation and much caution.

The first turret was facing away when she entered, its red sight beam pointing at the wall in front of it. Turrets were short, white, and smooth, their bodies set on three skinny legs, flaps at the side open to reveal guns which would shoot magazines of bullets at the slightest provocation. Such as showing movement, for example.

Chell moved to the side, trying to see its front. The red beam flickered from its fixed point and she found herself looking at its single red eye. "There you are," it said. Chell leaped back before it could shoot. The beam flicked from side to side, trying to discover where she had disappeared. "Are you still there?" Its voice was like Hers, but higher, more curious. Chell might even have thought it cute if it wasn't trying to kill her.

Fortunately, turrets were top-heavy and Chell tipped it over without any trouble at all. She ducked out of the way as it sprayed bullets, its high voice shouting in alarm. After a second or two of noisy shooting, the gun flaps retracted and the turret sing-songed, "Shutting down." Its red eye went dark and Chell moved past.

The next turret was at the end of a long corridor, and this one was looking at her. She shot a portal behind it and one in the wall next to her. Walking through, she grabbed the turret with her gun. "Hey," it protested feebly. "Please put me down."

She did, tipping it over and deactivating it. Chell sneaked a peek at the next turret, dodging back out of sight before it could see her. Strange, she thought. There was an 'X' painted above this one. Was GLaDOS helping her? No. It could not have been Her.

Nevertheless, Chell shot a portal where it said, jumping through on top of the turret. It flailed, crashing down the stairs, yelping. Chell gave an amused, pitying smile as she walked past it.

Her smile faded as a turret looked at her through a glass panel. What it said was lost in the crackle of glass as it shot at her. The glass did not break, but Chell moved out of its line of sight, anyway. "Sleep mode activated," it hummed. She rolled her eyes. Then she squinted. Words were written on the floor.

Help.

And then again, a little farther away.

Help.

The words were written in a shaky, scrawling hand, just beside a panel jutting out from the wall, propped open by two Weighted Storage Cubes. She pulled the top one aside and hopped over the other, afraid that the panel would close if she took the props away. Her heart beat quickly with excitement. Could this be her escape?

No, she soon discovered. There was no place to go from that small room behind the panel. The walls were sealed, and the only way out was from the place she came in. However, this place had been a haven for somebody else.

There were scribblings on the walls. Words, some of them, and a whole section devoted to tally marks. She ran her finger over them, noting how they smudged under her hand. A camera was depicted in red paint. She's watching, warned the caption. A picture, presumably ripped from a magazine, featured a delicious-looking piece of cake.

Chell puzzled over what she had discovered. If the tally marks were to be believed, someone had been here for a long time. Was it possible she was not alone? She had not seen any sign of human life in this place since she woke up from her cryogenic suspension bed. But now, this…

She shook her head and exited the room. If there had been someone alive – another test subject like herself – he was long dead by this point. GLaDOS found them all, eventually.

()-()

Chell was still struggling. Even though she had made up her mind the night before in the bar, she still wrestled, trying to justify the impulse to refuse the mission. Selfish. That was the only word for it. Chell knew that she had the best chance of success. Sending someone else into that hellscape would be a death sentence, both for them and the ones they were trying to save.

It had to be her.

Her or nobody.

Chell discovered that her hand was stroking her nightstand, and flinched away as if she had obtained an electric shock, moving a little farther onto her bed. The nightstand was black with a queer geometry. Shaped like a cube, with raised spaces softening the corners, formed from metal. It had been one of the few items Chell had brought with her from earth. Only she knew that beneath the black paint was a dinged surface, grey faces with pink lines, a pink heart painted in the exact center of each face.

The cube was like her, Chell thought with disgust. Painted over to fit into its new life, but still retaining the shape given it by its past. She turned aside. The sight of it made her sick.

A knock at the door to her apartment. Chell's eyes flicked upward, but she made no movement. She waited two, three, five seconds before rising. The knock sounded again.

The nervous feeling in her stomach rising every instant, Chell moved out into her hallway toward the door. Grasped the handle. Turned it.

"Good morning, Miss Redacted," greeted Mr. Thomas, smiling. His hands seemed oddly empty without the briefcase. "I trust you slept well?"

Chell moved backwards, allowing him to enter. He did not notice her baleful look. "Is the Artificial Intelligence fully charged?"

"He should be."

"And my… proposition?" He was looking straight at her, but she turned her face aside.

Courage, a reassuring voice whispered inside her, and she stood up straight. Chell thrived under pressure. She looked Mr. Thomas in the eyes. Whatever happened next, she would not back down.

"I have considered your proposition, Mr. Thomas," she said, squaring her shoulders, "and I accept the mission with two conditions."

"Name them," said Mr. Thomas.

"I will not have to speak unless I wish to."

"A strange request, but I yield it to you."

"Secondly, I wish to do this myself. Nobody will accompany me."

"Except for the AI," corrected Mr. Thomas. "Wheatley – that is what you called him, isn't it? – must guide you."

Chell's eyes flashed at the mention of his name and her jaw tensed involuntarily. "Except for him," she agreed.

"You do realize that we will not be able to communicate," said Mr. Thomas. "The facility was built too far down. Even with our enhanced signals, all communication would be lost."

"I understand."

"You truly wish to do this alone?"

"I do."

"Why?"

Chell paused, thinking. "I do not wish to risk another's life," she said.

"But you will risk his?" Mr. Thomas gestured toward the case.

"His is no life." Chell's tone was bitter.

Mr. Thomas shrugged. "Some might dispute that. Well, those are your only conditions?"

"They are."

"We will provide the funding to get you to earth, of course. And any equipment you need."

Chell nodded her thanks.

Mr. Thomas strode across the room, stopping by the charging station. "There is another member interested in this mission," he said, stooping to unhitch the clasps. "We might as well introduce ourselves."

Chell made a small sound of protest, but then the case flew open and she made no other sound.

There was a rattle of metal as Wheatley came to life. His blue optic flared and he blinked. "Oh, ah, what just… what just happened? Oh, hello!"

"Hello," said Mr. Thomas, smiling down at the spherical bot. "You must be Wheatley."

"Ha. Yep. That… that's me. Sorry, I think my mainframe's on the blink. I… I thought there was someone else in the room. You know, closed the lid on me."

Wheatley's eye darted nervously as he talked, flitting about in its socket. Chell was behind Mr. Thomas, safely out of his range of vision, and she was determined to stay there.

"Actually," said Mr. Thomas, "your mainframe is not to blame. There is someone else here."

No, no, please no, Chell thought, her fists tightening.

"Really?" Wheatley seemed incredulous. He strained his optic to look around Mr. Thomas. "Where? I don't see anyone."

Don't, Chell pled silently.

"Right here." Mr. Thomas moved aside.

Even though Chell stood half obscured by the wall, mostly in the hallway, Wheatley recognized her in an instant. How could he not? Her face was ingrained into his memory banks. Right now, her expression was angry, guarded, and tight. Nevertheless, he was overjoyed to see her.

"Hey! Hey, it's you! Oh, my… I am glad to see you. Over the moon, really! Ha, little joke, there. Although," and here his enthusiasm faded, "it just occurred to me that you might not be glad to see me. I mean, what happened when we last met was… not pleasant for either party concerned. The parties being me and… and you. Not nice for either of us."

Chell's glare did not falter and his optic flicked about, unwilling to meet her gaze.

"I- I just… I wanted to say that I'm sorry," he apologized. "And I know you have no rightful reason to forgive me. What I did was stupid, and mean, and- hold on! What are you doing?"

His sudden spike of alarm was cut short as Chell came forward and closed the lid of the case.

"What was that about?" asked Mr. Thomas, staring up at her. He was still squatting on the floor. "He was trying to apologize."

"Third condition," Chell said. "I want a button to put him into sleep mode at will."

Mr. Thomas stared at her, brow pursed, trying to decide whether to push her or back away. Finally, he shrugged. "I will make one."

Chell gave a curt nod and crossed her arms again.

Mr. Thomas turned back to the case. "I will have to wake him up again."

"I don't want to listen to his apology."

He nodded. "Understood."

Wheatley blinked as the box opened again. "Um… alright… what just happened?"

"Miss Chell activated sleep mode when she closed the case," Mr. Thomas informed him. "She doesn't want to hear your apology."

"Wait, wait, rewind. Chell? Who is Chell? Ohhh…" His optic opened in realization and he looked wide-eyed at his former friend. "That– that's her name? I mean, brilliant, lovely name, but… how come you never told me? Seriously, all this time I was yelling at you, you could have said something. I mean, not out loud, obviously, since you can't speak, but you could have written it out on paper or something."

"She can speak," said Mr. Thomas, earning a frown from Chell.

"No, she can't, mate," Wheatley corrected him.

"Yes," Mr. Thomas repeated patiently, "she can."

"But…" Wheatley looked from one human face to the other. "But you've got brain damage. I thought for sure… you seemed able to solve those tests quite easily, but I thought… you could talk all the time?" The hurt came through in his voice. "How come you never told me? I asked you to, remember? Back in that room when we first met each other. I said, 'say apple', and you… jumped. You just jumped. Straight up in the air and I thought, 'well, she's a good jumper, but she can't speak, no need to try that anymore', but all that time... Why didn't you say something?"

Something like guilt had crept into Chell's eyes when the pained sound had entered Wheatley's voice, but by the end, the hardened look came back. She took a step forward, which made Wheatley wince, and pounded a fist on her heart. She pointed at Wheatley. Then she made a motion as if plucking her heart out of her chest, then smashed it with her fist. Wheatley flinched, not quite sure what exactly she was trying to convey, but sure that it had something to do with his betrayal.

She turned away, but Wheatley called after her, "Chell! Chell!"

Her name said by his vocal processers made her pain even more acute. Even so, she stopped her retreat.

"Don't leave, please. Come back. You don't have to talk if you don't want to. You can jump, or write, or do whatever you want. I know your name, now, and… and it's a very pretty name. I'm not just saying that. It's a lovely name. I was just… confused. And scared. I mean that, I'm very, very scared right now. I have no idea where I am, and you hate me, and I'm not allowed to apologize or you'll slam the lid on me, and I don't know who this bloke is or where I am… I said that already, didn't I? Yes, yes I'm sure I did." He trailed off, looking down, handles sagging.

"I can answer a few of those questions," said Mr. Thomas.

"Oh, really? Cheers, mate!" His optic rolled in its socket, doing a loop-de-loop that was painfully familiar to Chell.

"Thank you." Mr. Thomas settled himself and began explanations. Chell turned back halfway and caught a glimpse of Wheatley staring intently at Mr. Thomas.

He used to look at me like that, she thought with sadness. Rapt attention. Cheerful interest. Trust.

And then he tried to kill you, she reminded herself. So much for trust and friendship.

Why does he have to sound like him?...

"We found images of Miss Redacted in your memory bank," Mr. Thomas said, concluding his explanation. "Using those, we were able to trace her back here, revealing her true past, and reuniting the two of you."

"Oh. Um, ok. But – just wondering – why reunite us, exactly?" Wheatley wondered. "I mean, she doesn't seem too thrilled about that. You're not turning me over to her, are you?" he asked in sudden alarm. Chell felt icily pleased that he felt so afraid of her, then guilty for feeling that way.

"No, of course not," soothed Mr. Thomas. "But we need the two of you together."

"Why?"

Mr. Thomas forced his face into a semblance of relaxed calm. Ooze serenity. Keep on top of things.

"Do you remember an area in Aperture called Storage Area 2-5531D?"

Wheatley rolled his eye upward in thought. "Umm, vaguely. Aperture is a big – and when I say big I mean huge. Colossally enormous place. So, I think I know what you're talking about, but I'm not entirely sure. Oh! Oh, yes! Yep, definitely know what place you're talking about. Triple-locked by security systems, always fed by energy from the facility, no panels, can't get in even if you tried? Yes, I know the place you're talking about." He nodded wisely.

"There are humans in there."

Wheatley cocked his orb as if he was afraid he was short-circuiting. "I – heh – I'm sorry. I think I lost you there. What? Humans? No, no, no. That- that's not possible."

"Fed with constant energy," listed Mr. Thomas, "warmth detected from within."

"I was in charge of all the stasis chambers!" protested Wheatley. "I oversaw all of them!"

"Not all of them."

Wheatley tried to absorb this. "Humans," he said. "Alive. In Aperture Facility." He gave a giddy laugh. "Ha! Whoever would have thought!"

"We're sending in a small stealth operation to rescue them."

"Uh-huh." Wheatley nodded, squinted his eye. "Good luck with that, mate."

"You think it can't be done?"

"Well," Wheatley sighed, "in order to get to the humans in need of rescuing, you would have to skirt past… Her." He gave a shiver, unpleasant memories resurfacing. "And let me tell you, that will not be an easy job, because if She finds you – and there is a very good chance that She will – if She finds you, She will kill you. It might take a while, but She will eventually kill you. That's… that's what She does."

Chell gave a small, tight nod that nobody saw. The familiar feeling of twisting anxiety knotted in her stomach with the thought of Her. GLaDOS was down there, waiting. What had she gotten herself into?

Mr. Thomas looked up and saw Chell's expression. Looked down at Wheatley, who was lost in memories. "There might be a way," he said. "What if someone went down who had been there before? Would they stand a greater chance?"

"Eh, not really." Wheatley tilted back and forth in a noncommittal manner. "I mean, She does seem to be holding all the cards, being bloody massive, completely in charge, cameras everywhere and all that. Besides, who would you be able to find who has gotten out of there before? Nobody's escaped that place except—" He cut off, connecting the pieces. He swiveled toward Chell with a whirr of machinery. "You?" he exclaimed.

"Miss Chell Redacted has volunteered to save the humans within Aperture Facility," said Mr. Thomas.

Wheatley stared at her, wide-eyed. "You… but… no!" he stammered. "No, you just got out of there, God knows how. How- how did you get out of there, anyway? Never mind, off topic. You can't possibly be going back in! You would have to be mad to go back in there! Bloody loopy!"

"You're going in with her."

Wheatley was more silent than he had ever been in his life.

()-()

"You did it. The Weighted Companion Cube certainly brought you good luck. However, it cannot accompany you for the rest of the test and unfortunately must be euthanized. Please escort your Companion Cube to the Aperture Science Emergency Intelligence Incinerator."

Chell blinked. She had carried the Companion Cube with her throughout Test Chamber 17, and although she had developed little emotional attachment to the thing, she had not expected to be instructed to incinerate it. She placed the Companion Cube on the button to open the door, then pressed the button to the incinerator. The cube she dangled over the opening, which glowed orange with heat.

The incinerator closed with a snap. Chell shook her head to clear it of strange thoughts. Why was she hesitating?

She had found another one of the secret rooms in that chamber – the ones with pictures and words painted on the walls. This one had Companion Cubes all over it. Pictures of humans ripped from calendars, Companion Cubes pasted over their faces. Poetry warped to include the cubes, red hearts painted all over, and detached cameras littering the floor.

She had left the room feeling a strange clash of emotions. Disgust, curiosity, and more than a little fear. The room's inhabitant had obviously gone insane, apparently having strange delusions about his cube.

It was strange what the gift of suggestion did to a person's mind, she observed, heading for the incinerator button yet again. The pink heart on each of its faces set it apart from the typical Weighted Storage Cube, but otherwise it was no different. And yet, GLaDOS had probed her throughout the chamber, giving jibes like, "The Weighted Companion Cube will never threaten to stab you, and in fact cannot speak", prompting her to think that it was a friend.

Chell forced herself to think straight as she smacked the button. It was only a cube. Not a friend. An inanimate object. Her head was almost clear by the time she tossed it into the incinerator.

"You euthanized your faithful Companion Cube more quickly than any other test subject on record," GLaDOS informed her. "Congratulations."

Chell hardened her jaw as she stepped into the elevator. No companions. That was the way it had to be.

()-()

Wheatley made little jerky movements with his shell, trying to process the command, trying to decide how to take it.

"You're… you're joking, right mate? That's it. You're joking, aren't you? Ha-ha, you almost had me going, there. Nice one. Nice little joke." Even so, his tone was nervous.

"I am being perfectly serious." Mr. Thomas leaned forward. "You must go down with her."

"I… what?! No! No, I'm not!" Wheatley's pupil constricted to a pinprick and darted wildly as if he was hoping to sprout legs and escape.

Chell felt slightly better. She felt the same way Wheatley did. He was expressing her panic for them both.

"You can't make me! What?! I'm not going back in there, I just got back out! I mean, not just just. I've been floating around in space for some time, but… come on! Didn't you hear what I said before?" He tried to make Mr. Thomas understand. "Her killing anyone if they come back there? It didn't apply just to humans, what I said. It applies to everything. Me especially. She is very, very angry at me. Not just the 'slam down the lid and put him into sleep mode' angry. I mean 'incinerate him if he's lucky' angry. Livid."

"Miss Redacted needs a guide," said Mr. Thomas as if he had not heard Wheatley's cries. "You have schematics and maps of the facility in your memory bank."

"So take out the memory bank! Actually no. No, don't do that. Just… there has to be something else," Wheatley whined. "Chell probably doesn't even want me to come! See? Look, she's turning away." A slight sense of relief. Maybe he could worm his way out of this after all. "She wouldn't want me to come with her, no sir. Not me after I… after I…"

He trailed off guiltily, a conflict growing inside him. She was still looking away, but her hands had clenched again. He wanted to say he was sorry – he wanted that more than anything – so he couldn't use the excuse that he might betray her again. He would never. Even to imply that he might would be unthinkable. How would she forgive him if she still thought he was untrustworthy?

Mr. Thomas saw the raw opening the little robot had left unguarded and took advantage. "Miss Chell," he requested, "would you leave the room for a moment? I would like to talk with Wheatley undisturbed."

Without turning around, Chell stalked into her bedroom. The door closed with a click.

"I just want to say I'm sorry," Wheatley said, staring wistfully after her. "We used to be friends, once. Good old friends. Then I had to go and muck everything up." He gave a pained laugh. "Might as well have left me in space. At least there I could pretend she didn't hate me."

"I don't think she hates you," said Mr. Thomas thoughtfully.

"Yeah, right. Thanks for trying to make me feel better, I really appreciate it, really, I do. But you obviously weren't looking at her face. Did you see her put me into sleep mode? Slam, down goes the lid, I'm out like a… like a torch. Nobody does that if they're not livid."

"She just hasn't given you a chance," said Mr. Thomas. He moved a little closer as if to inspire confidence. "If she let you, would you apologize?"

"Ha! In a hot second."

"You just need the opportunity." Mr. Thomas lowered his voice. "If you worked with her, showed her that you could be trusted, she might let you apologize."

"She might," agreed Wheatley, a little hope beginning to burn.

"Miss Chell wants to free those humans more than anything," said Mr. Thomas. "More than anything else in the world."

"She would, wouldn't she. Them being humans and captured and all."

"If you… helped her…" Mr. Thomas tread carefully with his next words, "…that might let you get close enough to say how truly sorry you are. Things might be the way they were. You could go back to being friends."

"We… we might." Wheatley nodded slowly. "I… could get her to see that I really didn't mean to do all that to her. She might even trust me again."

"So you agree?"

Wheatley nodded, this time with more enthusiasm. "Sure! I'll guide Chell around Aperture, bring her to the humans, make her like me again! Ha-ha, brilliant!"

He could see it so clearly, time erased, going back to the day he first met her in the stasis chamber; back when She was still asleep, they were escaping together, and everything was going to be alright.

"Brilliant," he repeated to himself.

()-()

The corridors were crowded and Ley was having a problem getting anywhere. He ricocheted from person to person, alternating between apologies and talking to himself.

"Just follow the girl," he muttered, dropping some more paperwork and narrowly avoiding a rolling metal table. "Follow the girl. She can't- she can't be far. Sorry! Just around this corner and- sorry! My fault! Umm, nope. Not here either. 'Scuse me! Umm, alright, ok. What about- ow! Sorry, mate! What about this way? She could have gone this way."

He was tall, looming above most people in the corridor, and it suddenly struck him that this could possibly be a disadvantage when searching for a little girl nearly a yard shorter than he was. He turned around several times, mouth hanging open, hopelessly scanning the area.

The paperwork slipped from his fingers in a storm and he dove for it with an exclamation of annoyance, hastily gathering it all up before it was kicked away.

Where there had once been an ocean of heads, now there was a forest of feet. Ley peered through the jungle, happy for now just to stay hunched over. Nobody paid him any mind. All had places to go, things to do.

Shoes were very interesting, he observed. You could tell a lot about a person by their shoes. The important businessmen had sleek loafers on, polished so highly he could see his face in them. The pretty women who answered the phones and who he could never ever work up the nerve to talk to all had high heels that looked like torture instruments. The interns and assistants usually wore tennis shoes. He himself had ratty old sneakers, but that was just because he had not been able to find his other ones in his swamp of an apartment.

See, there were even some child shoes over there. Little child sneakers, running with little squeaks on the polished floor, then turning to see if they were being followed. How interesting.

Something like a start passed through Ley. He had almost missed it! He leaned over again and watched as the child sneakers moved, going beyond his vision through a door.

Ley stood up, a grin passing over his face. He ruffled his hair. "I found her," he gasped, then repeated again with a laugh that made a few people look up in concern, "I found her! Me, Stephen Ley. I found her! Take that, Grahame!"

He made an effort to calm himself. "Alright, focus. Absolutely no need to panic. Just go in and talk to her. She's not that scary; just a little girl." He took a deep breath and opened the door.

It was dark inside, and had he not just seen the girl enter he would have thought it completely uninhabited. Only racks filled with crates and boxes were to be seen. No little girl in sight.

"Hello?" he called, taking another step inside and flicking on the light. Even that was dim, obscured by the many boxes at roof level, precariously perched on their racks. "I know you're in here. I saw you come in, so… cat's out of the bag, I suppose. Could you come out? I won't hurt you. I just want to talk to you. Just a chat, you know."

There was a rustle to his right and he jumped, spinning to look in that direction. A small, hunched shape was wedged in between the cabinets.

"Oh, oh there you are. Hello!" He moved closer and got a good look at the girl for the first time.

She was smaller than he had thought – no older than eleven – with straight, dark hair, a nose that suggested Asian lineage, and the strangest eyes he had ever seen. Deep gray with a look of wisdom that shone beyond her years. She did not look frightened, but distrustful, calculating the best way to escape this situation.

"Hello," repeated Ley, stopping and stooping. "I don't want to hurt you, hey. I just want a chat. Nice, friendly little chat. That's all. Oh! Here," he dropped most of the paperwork on the ground and dug into his lunch bag, his hand appearing again with a large, red apple. He held it out to her with a wide, goofy grin that was strangely soothing. "As a… a pledge of sort. That's it! A pledge of my good intentions, and a promise not to do anything startling, ok? See, it's an apple!"

He nodded as if he had just said something clever. "A, double-P, L, E. Apple. Can you say that? Can you say 'apple'?"

The girl took the offered fruit.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" she asked.

Ley smiled in triumph. He had done it! He had made her talk!

"No! You? Oh, no, definitely not! I just saw you test, remember? Out there on the testing track? You were extraordinary! Seriously, you finished that test before most of the other subjects. I can't remember the percentage right now, but it was above a whopping big number. You were absolutely brilliant, luv!"

The girl relaxed, somewhat surprised by the praise. She pressed the apple to her lips but did not take a bite.

"Go ahead," Ley urged. "Eat up. Wait," and here he pulled out his bag. "You mind if I join you? I'm starving. They were all like, 'do the paperwork first, Ley. Lunch afterword.' How am I supposed to think on an empty stomach?" He took a big bite of his sandwich and rolled his eyes upward in bliss. "Mmm, gorgeous," he mumbled.

The little girl smiled and took a bite of the apple.

"This is nice, hey?" smiled Ley. "Like a picnic, of sorts. 'Course, picnics are usually outside."

"Am I in trouble?" asked the girl.

"Trouble? For what? Ohh, for being on an unauthorized testing track? Is that what you mean?"

She nodded.

"Well, to tell the truth, the others were a little bit annoyed at first, but then you started testing and – man alive! Didn't they like that!"

"They… liked me testing?" She sounded surprised.

"Didn't they, though! You're a genius, luv! In fact, you're such a genius that they'd like you to come in again and do another test chamber."

The girl's eyes became alight and she leaned forward. "You mean, like a real test subject?"

"Not just like a real test subject. They want you to become an actual test subject! You would get your own jumpsuit, and your own paperwork… I mean, that part might not be the best. Plus, more filing for me. But you get the point. Official, all of it official. How about it, luv?"

Ley could see eagerness shining in her eyes. She wanted that. She wanted all of it very badly. But then the spark died and she sat back again, clenching the half-eaten apple in her hand. "I shouldn't," she said.

"Hey, why? Why not, luv?"

"Daddy wouldn't like it." She took another bite of apple.

"Your dad… he works here, does he?"

She nodded. "Lives here, too. Down in the worker's complex. Him and mommy."

"Why wouldn't he want you to test? Testing is brilliant!"

"He says it would be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" scoffed Ley. "Here? Our tests dangerous? Come on, now. That's a bit of an exaggeration. All the test chambers are completely safe – well, un- unless you run smack into a laser, that would be a bit of a problem – but besides that, no danger at all. We'll even put you in the safest testing chambers, if that's a problem with him."

The girl shook her head again. "He'd still say no."

Ley snorted. "Overprotective person, your dad?"

"I'm adopted," the girl said, and her quiet voice became even quieter.

"Oh, well… that's alright, isn't it? I mean, it doesn't matter to me; some of my best friends are orphans. Doesn't matter at all."

The girl shot a quick smile up at him and they sat in sociable contemplation for some time.

Ley snapped his fingers and tapped his temple. "Oh, brainwave! Brilliant idea, right here. You said your dad wouldn't let you, correct?" He didn't even wait for her answering nod. "So, how about your dad never finds out? See? We just don't tell him! You come along, say it's for school or something, and pop over for a quick test chamber, home in time for supper. How about that?"

Behind her eyes, cogs turned, searching for possible loopholes and weak points in the plan. A spark of hope rose, then was quickly extinguished. "What about the paperwork?"

"What? What about the paperwork?"

"If daddy sees my name on the paperwork…"

"Oh," Ley slapped his forehead. "Oh, yes, the paperwork. Um, well, what about not putting your name on? Eh?"

"Is that legal?" the girl asked, squinting.

"Well, not completely omitting the name, but how about using just the first name, then taking off the second name. What is your name, by the way?"

"Chell," she said.

"Great! Chell… I'm sure there's loads of other people with the first name Chell."

"I've never met any."

"Neither have I, but I'm sure there's loads." He picked up the now badly scuffed paperwork and a pen, opening it with his teeth. "Now… first name: Chell. Last name… er… what's that thing that they say when they're taking something off? Do you know?"

"Redacted?" Chell suggested.

"Just the thing!" he beamed. "Chell… Last name… Redacted. There! Now, just sign your name here. Don't bother with all the fine print. Dull stuff, don't bother reading it."

Chell signed her name at the bottom of the page with large, abnormal letters.

"Oh, doesn't that look lovely?" Ley admired it.

"What's your name?" Chell asked.

"Stephen Ley, nice to meet you." He stuck out a hand for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor Ley," she said with a smile.

"Doctor Ley." His eyes drifted upward dreamily. "I actually like the sound of that. Very… professional, don't you think? Alright, ok. Come with me."

"Where are we going?" she asked as he pulled her up. Her head did not even come to his armpit when she stood upright.

"I want to introduce you to Doctor Grahame. He'll be the one testing you. Oh, man alive. Won't he be thrilled to see you!"