Chapter 3

The phone rang.

Chell lounged between Emily and Jerry on the couch. The TV murmured, broadcasting into the summer evening. The sun hung low in the hazy sky, and the chill of night began to creep in. Emily got up and answered the call.

A shout from the other room. Jerry lunged and muted the TV.

"It's Black Mesa," she said as they rushed in, "with news." She hit the speakerphone and an automated voice came through, with a half-finished message.

"-and development will begin immediately on these blueprints. When Jerry and Emily Naransky return to their normal jobs at headquarters, a promotion will be put in place, and a permanent raise has been added to their current salaries. Black Mesa thanks you for your contribution to science."

Emily's hand hovered against her mouth, not believing the news. The computerized message disconnected, leaving them hung in disbelief. Jerry finally gave a holler and attempted tp lift and spin Chell, but he remembered that she was twelve years old rather than a toddler. He staggered with the unexpected weight, and pulled her into a hug instead.

"Couldn't do it without you, kid," said Jerry. Pride surged through her, and all she wanted was to stay there, safe and appreciated and—dare she say loved—within that hug. She closed her eyes and for a fleeting moment, she imagined these two as her family. They pulled apart.

In another room, Emily slid on sandals. She said, "Grab your shoes. We're going out for ice cream."


They walked through the town's stores and roamed the air-conditioned aisles. Row after row, they stuffed a cart with junk food and cleaning products—it was time to demolish that layer of dust enveloping the house.

Chell stared at the wall of paints.

Her parents, on a whim, told her to choose a color to paint her room. A particular shade of blue stood out to her—almost identical to her eye color.

She glanced through the shelving and saw a black and white blur. Doug. She crouched, hoping he continued browsing the aisle over and paid no attention to her. She pretended to examine the bottom shelf of paint colors.

" Chell!" Emily called, turning the corner. "Pick a color yet?" The girl kept her hands on the lowest shelf, watching Rattmann's reaction. He turned, spotting only Emily through the gaps between cans of paint.

"Which one you looking at?" she said. Chell glared, jabbing a finger at Doug. Emily's face creased in recognition, but the did not move.

"I like this blue," said Chell. Emily frowned.

"That's red." She pointed at the bottom shelf.

"I know. The blue's up there." Chell reached to a higher shelf and plucked up a gallon-container of paint, plopping it in the cart. "Can we get ice cream now?"

"Hold on." Emily picked up the can, liquid sloshing inside.

Doug turned the corner and waved. Emily smiled, but Chell stared at the paint cans, listening.

"Mr. Rattmann, right?" said Emily, straightening. He nodded.

"Out here, it's Doug," he said, thinking about how strange it was to be outside of work, yet feel as if he'd never left at all. "Painting a room?"

"Yeah." Her new mom glanced at the cart, and took notice at the embarrassing amount of brightly packed and unhealthy foods compared to Doug's basket of fresh produce.

"What are you guys up to?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing much. Chell's about to start school in a couple of weeks. We're just getting in all of our summer fun while we can." Her fingers danced across the can's edges, jumping from one to another until her arm extended all the way.

Emily dropped in the can. "We're on out way to grab ice cream. Care to join?"

Doug agreed.

It was only fitting that the man responsible for their celebration should take part it in.


Chell felt sick to her stomach. Her ice cream sat in her hand, dripping vanilla drops onto her hand like sticky tears. She couldn't focus on her dessert. She couldn't lick it away.

In the cool evening breeze, the four crammed around a table on the ice cream shop's patio. Everyone else ate and enjoyed and conversed until the sun sank beneath the horizon and the store closed down their outdoor umbrellas.

"So I haven't seen you at Aperture recently," said Doug.

"She's been busy," said Emily, giving Chell a sideways glance. The truth was, Chell had been avoiding Aperture and avoiding Doug, because she could not look him in the eye and not feel nauseous for lying and stealing from a man like him. And yet he still did not mind her companionship. He missed her when she was gone.

Jerry laughed. "But we can't keep her away too long."

Chell briefly made eye contact before darting away.

"She'll be back soon enough," said Emily, wrapping an arm around Chell's shoulders. She leaned her head onto her arms, wanting to close her eyes and never open them. "But for now, it's time for us to go back home."


The next afternoon, she returned.

Doug repaired ASHPDs, fixing them for hours until he got a chance to mess with his prototype. Chell sat her head on the counter, watching and taking notes internally.

"So if you get the energy manipulator working, you won't have to fix guns?"

"Well, at least not as many."

"Then what would you do?"

"I'm sure Aperture would find another ridiculous job for me," he said.

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," he said. "I've never been given the chance. To choose."

Doug went back to tinkering, but they heard far-off conversation.

The door pushed in. Jerry walked in with a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. "So this is where you go every day? And you," he said to Doug, "Don't get tired of her?" He looked around, tossing the bag onto the table and rattling the tools. A gun wobbled, and Doug lurched forward to grab it.

"She's no bother," he said with a smile, hand still on the gun. "It's easy to lose yourself in the quiet of this place."

Chell straightened, smiling. The stark white ASHPD caught Jerry's attention—his daughter had never once mentioned that Doug worked with Aperture's bread and butter—he gad assumed he developed prototypes, like the gravity gun. He shot Chell a look but she avoided. She hadn't wanted them to know.

The potatoes loomed at the table's edge. Jerry finally said, "Someone in the cafeteria ordered too many potatoes. We'll be getting nothing but french fries from now on."

"And why are they in my lab?" Doug said, sliding the burlap sack back onto the floor and off of his counter.

"Science project," Jerry said. "Everyone in the daycare center's supposed to do one. Use as many potatoes as you like—you're the only one."

"Can I do something different?" Chell whined, grimacing. The adults paid her no mind.

"Should we take them back to the center, then?" said Doug.

"Great idea," said Jerry, glancing over at Chell. "Here, I'll take this over there." He hefted up the sack. The door hissed closed.

Chell set her head on her arms. "Do you know how to make a potato battery?"

Doug shook his head. "No idea. Can't say that I've ever wanted to, either," he said.

"That's okay," she said. "I made one last year. For class."


In the daycare center, they found everything she would need for her project—red and blue wires, poster board, and a set of colored pencils.

Doug's hand rested under his chin. "Time to add you to Aperture's 'Science Fair," he said, raising arms in an air-quote.

"What?"

"Haven't seen it?" When she only stared, he led her out of the room wrapping around the corner to get to the cramped hallway. Other projects sat scattered across the hallway, collecting dust.

"One day we'll have enough for a real science fair." A curled up banner sat on a tabletop, abandoned. "Or a Bring Your Daughter to Work Day. That was the original plan."

"Never had one?"

"Not yet, no," he said. "We'll keep collecting these projects u ntil they plan something interesting enough to draw in more kids."

Chell walked up and down the aisle, noting the other potato batteries shoved alongside the edges.

She figured this wasn't the first time that Aperture had over-ordered potatoes.


As Chell sped through her poster, Doug noticed the girl grow increasingly worried. Her face creased and seemed panicked, but she said nothing. The way her letters scrambled across the page, messy and hurried, was not at all with the same precision she used in art. Yet he knew Chell was a quiet person—if she wanted to talk about it, she would.

A few minutes later, she asked Doug a puzzling question.

"Do you lock your lab?" she said.

"No point," he said "More work. There's nothing important in there."

A pause. Chell fiddled with the ends of her battery. "You should," she said.


Doug messed with his own battery, built after Chell painstakingly showed him the correct way to make one. As he messed with it, and idea struck him.

"Be right back," he said, darting to the door. "I've got the perfect thing for your project."

Chell looked up and blinked as the man disappeared from the room.

He found himself walking to Henry's lab, even though the man worked with computers and not biology. But unlike him, that scientist might know someone that worked with living things.

"Would you stop messing with that for a minute?" Doug said. Henry was crouched over a table. He didn't look up.

"Always nice to see you, Doug."

"I need something for a potato battery," he said. Henry stretched, running a hand through his balding head.

"Is this for the girl?" he said.

"Yes."

"You know that that isn't normal, right? You being around her all the time."

The scientist looked around Henry's lab, noticing how much brighter and whiter it was im comparison to his own blue-gray walls.

"She helps," he said after a moment. "I don't know what it is about her, but she helps me know what's real."

"Like that cube of yours?" Doug didn't answer. He knew Henry had never liked that cube.

"Look, can you get me something for it or not?" he said. "It needs to have power for a long time." He wanted to ensure that, whenever Aperture did get around to it, Chell's project would still win the fair.

"Then let it take root and grow," he said, throwing up his arms. "She'll be set for years."

"The thing smells. It's not growing anytime soon."

Henry gave a sigh. "I'll find someone to make something for your precious project."


Doug decided to take the long way back and double check his lab. The way that Chell had spoken earlier—the way she had brought it up out of the blue—made him nervous. Or at least paranoid.

He paused with his hand on the door, listening. Shuffling on the inside. Strange that someone else has stopped by. Doug pushed in the door to see Jerry standing over a portal gun with a handful of papers.

He pushed open the door to see Jerry with a handful of papers, standing over a portal gun.

"Can I help you?"

The other man froze, letting the papers flop down onto the table.

"Oh," said Jerry. "Was looking for you. Emily just sent me up. She wanted to know when her ASHPDs would be working again." He gave a laugh. "She can't test without them," he said, edging toward the door. Rattmann still stood in the doorway.

"Well," he said, crossing his arms. "Tell her to get smarter test subjects that don't break my guns, and I'll fix them faster."

"Thanks, Doug," he said, feet shuffling as he brushed past him. He stopped the closing door with his foot, watching the man speed down the hallway and disappear down a turn.

The door closed, and Rattmann walked to his table. White rectangles were haphazardly scattered like an incomplete puzzle, with some pushed beneath others. As he gathered the pieces and pulled them together, he began to notice a theme. A bigger picture.

They were blueprints.

ASHPD blueprints.


A/N: Thanks for reading!

I know my story doesn't have a lot of action right now...but bear with me. We'll get there. Eventually.

Anyways, Henry is from Lab Rat, and all of the information on Chell's project was pulled from the thinkgeek version of her in-game poster. I managed to get the PotatOS kit for Christmas, and Chell's poster really is interesting.