Chapter 12 - Tier 3

Lights flickered by.

Chell and Doug centered themselves in the unusually square elevator. Metal grating wrapped around the bottom edges, but no gates covered the slipped into open space as the facility above them disappeared. Unsettling clicks filled the elevator.

"No one knows this place better than Caroline," said Doug. "But there's got to be somewhere we can hide you." Even though she hadn't been to certain areas in decades, he had no doubt she could easily navigate these halls of science.

White walls and ledges closed in around the elevator shaft. They creaked to a stop a few levels beneath the bottom and stepped out, twisting around the corner and passing beneath yellow block letters.

Two thousand, nine hundred and seventy-five meters beneath the surface.

Another turn.

They found themselves in a perfectly lit office, perched above a y-shaped air duct. The lights remained on in the abandoned office, and Chell wondered why the brilliant yet clueless Aperture Engineers had never considered installing power switches. Or, a backup power system triggered by motion much like the prerecorded messages.

"Should be a straight shot from here," he said as they walked through the office. "And I think I know just the place." He opened a doorway on the far end, and a rocky ledge extended out. A gated walkway extended out. They edged across the open platform, and then clung onto the catwalk's railings.

Chell paused, peering over the edge. The walkways shifted into square, yet downward spiraling staircase. Catwalks jutted out on every level, connecting to testing spheres or offices.

And from their position at the top, the gaps between made a perfect Aperture logo.

They descended past each sphere, the empty spaces even more vertigo-inducing than the elevator. Their hands clung to both hand rails. Chipped paint rubbed off, clinging to their palms as they dragged their way along.

Though taking a few elevators would save time, Doug knew this would be the most direct path downward. Better to bypass the testing track altogether than attempt to navigate it in reverse.

Chell made a point to keep her shoulders back and eyes ahead. The adrenalin from running and escaping had worn off. And with their pace slowed to a walk, the details of her surrounds came rushing in. Only a thin rail separated her from falling to her death.

"How much farther?" she said.

"Just the next level," he said. He'd never ventured this far into Aperture before—he'd had no reason to. No point in getting lost in the complex twists and inconsistent layouts of the earlier decade sections.

They'd descend to the lower 70's section. It only made sense. Even if Caroline worked her way through the decades, she'd most likely start at either the modern levels or the bottom of the facility. Better to stash Chell somewhere in the middle. It'd take her longer to find her that way.

But he couldn't think like that. He needed to figure out a place where Caroline wouldn't find her at all.

"There," Doug said, pointing at where the elevator shaft joined with the staircase. "Should take us the rest of the way down." The catwalk split to the right, dropping off where an elevator should be.

Chell's grip tightened as she glanced at the empty, cylindrical frame. A testing sphere hung directly below them, the first one in the testing track. And if she peered down far enough, Chell could make out the faint outline of buildings.

Doug pressed a green button and called the elevator. A few moments later they'd descended, and then exited onto another catwalk. Two buildings clung to the side of the salt mine, the upper portion of the lower labeled CONTROL ROOM. Chell followed him onto a unstationary platform that slid over to the higher building's entrance.

Just like every other office she'd been in, there were only desks and chairs and outdated computers. "So why here?" said Chell, unsure as to how she could hide here, of all places.

"Seeing if there's any truth to a few rumors," he said, moving along the walls with pointed motions, as if searching for something. He paused at a vaguely technological, refrigerator-sized box. Chell didn't know what to call it, but Doug pushed it aside to reveal a dark metal door. It slid apart, opening up to a rocky tunnel built into the side of the salt mine itself.

Four closed-off doors greeted them, each labeled VITRIFIED. Every door looked strong and sturdy, as if they could withstand multiple explosions and remain intact.

And yet, none of them were locked. Doug peeked into the first three before letting the doors slam shut.

"Aha," said Doug as he pushed open the fourth door. "This is it. The Borealis."

Chell ducked in beneath his arm, taking slow steps. Doug slipped in. The door clicked closed. She turned to him, looking for an explanation.

It made no sense to have a boat over four thousand meters beneath the surface. She wondered why they had even built it in the first place, much less how they planned to get it to a body of water.

But there was a ship.

In Aperture.

It extended far above them, massive and looming. Crates and wooden boxes dangled from cranes. Metal beams crisscrossed, and the structure itself seemed barely balanced in its dry-dock. Chell got the feeling that if she so much as breathed on it, the ship would topple to the side.

"An experiment in large-scale teleportation," said Doug, hopping over the railing and trailing along the concrete walkway. "But the small-scale tests with human subjects were…problematic. Never even tried using it with the ship. It's been sitting here ever since, I guess."

"And I'm hiding in there?" Chell craned her neck, studying the ship. There'd be enough places in there to hide in there, among the dark corners and nooks.

Doug shook his head. "Too unstable," he said. "Too dangerous to walk onto there. One careless move could trigger it and send you who-knows-where."

The color blue clung to the ship and dry-dock, tinting the area like steam on a mirror and concealing a staircase at the far end of the dock until they were a few feet away. They ascended toward the new door, and Chell couldn't help but notice that it looked as if the Borealis builders had simply slapped on a leftover door.

An automated message blasted on as they walked in. Chell's hands flew to cover her ears.

"Welcome to the Aperture Science Nuclear Fallout and Supply Shelter! If you're hearing this, then those damn commies dropped a bomb somewhere around here. But you can count your lucky stars," said the recording of Cave Johnson. "I've already thought ahead. Each and every section here at Aperture is equipped with enough food and water to sustain the entire professional population of this company. For about a year. Now, you might wonder just why the food won't last longer. One year's not nearly long enough for radiation to clear. But food's expensive, and I know that your bright minds will figure out how to build some sort of anti-radiation suit and let us return to the surface.

"Meanwhile, though, go grab a can of beans and make yourself comfortable. Just be sure to share with a friend. Make it last as long as it can. And please, don't dirty up the place. It's brand new."

Chell pulled her hands away. Floor to ceiling shelves extended up and down the huge room. White cans sat on top of one another, and jugs of water refracted back the light. Cave was right—and even though the place had to be over twenty-five years old, it remained in pristine condition.

Doug glanced around, then motioned toward a far shelf stocked with books and puzzles and games. "Those'll keep you busy. Should be some beds and a bathroom back there."

Chell grabbed a generic can and examined the expiration date. Hmm. Still edible.

"I hate beans," she said. She placed it back on the shelf, twisting it slightly so that the label perfectly aligned with the other cans.

"Chell," said Doug.

"What?" She looked up, expression flat.

"We did it."

She gave a slight smile, then looked away.

"Wait. You don't understand. No one's escaped from a testing track. Ever. Much less from Caroline's track," he said. "And we walked right out from under her nose."

"I guess we did, didn't we?" she said, smile growing. Emotions crashed into her. For the first time in days, she sunk to the floor and relaxed.

She began to laugh.

At first it was just a few laughs, but then Doug joined in. She laughed and he laughed and they fed off of one another. She couldn't stop. Tears came to her eyes, partially from her giggles and partially from sheer relief.

A few minutes later, they faded. Chell wiped the tears from her eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

"Been awhile since I laughed that hard. But I don't think anyone heard us," said Doug.

She paused, turning over the situation in her mind like she'd turned over the can minutes ago. Even if Cave was right—even if other rooms like this existed, stashed away on each level, Doug had no guarantee that they'd find one back here.

"How did you find this place?" Chell said.

"More of a lucky guess than anything. Call it a hunch," he said. Doug stood, examining the shelf and then glancing at the door. He sighed.

She stared at him, last traces of laughter disappearing. It only took a moment to realize that he was moving toward the exit.

He rested a hand on the door.

"Doug, stop," she said. "Don't leave."

"Chell—" he said. "I've got to get back up there. If I'm gone too long, she'll know. She'll come looking for me. She'll come looking for you."

"Please, just stay. I don't want to be alone again." Her voice cracked.

"I can't," said Doug. "You know I can't. Just lock the door and don't go anywhere. I'll be back soon."

"But wait—" she said, voice soft. "I have to tell you something." He had risked so much, just by going back to rescue her. He deserved to know that she was no victim of this. He deserved to know that she'd stolen from him.

"What?"

Her mind blurred together, and she chickened out. She couldn't risk it now. No, she'd tell him once they got out of here. That would be better for both of them.

"It's nothing," she said. "Never mind."

"You can tell me later," said Doug, pushing open the thick metal. "I've got to go—but before I leave, I want you to know this." He locked his elbow, propping open the door. "You've been so brave. And I want you to know that I couldn't be more proud."


The box scraped across the ground.

Doug gave a final kick to the filing cabinet, pushing it in front of the sliding door. Better to stack a few boxes and divert stray eyes from this door. Anything helped when it came to keeping Chell hidden.

He didn't bother stopping by the Control Room to turn on the power. He didn't have to worry about a reserve power grid running out and plunging Chell into darkness. A nuclear core powered the facility, and so every area linked to it had an almost limitless power source.

His steps marked staccato notes on a musical scale as he moved through Aperture. Soon enough he found himself up several flights of stairs and back at the beginning elevator shaft.

But it was empty.

Doug clung to a railing, peering up and into empty space. The elevator must have defaulted to its original position in upper Aperture. He searched the walls for a switch. Instead, he found a sign advising him to wait for an attendant.

He sighed, knowing that the rooms twenty-five feet below him no doubt had the button. Even after walking countless flights of stairs, he still had a few left to go.

A creak and soft swish.

He pushed the door open. A hallway opened up to a larger, sectioned room. He wound his way through cheap folding chairs and cheesy posters. A blank projector screen sat above a small platform, a black logo stamped in the middle. A waiting room for test subjects—that's what it had to be.

Though judging by the vicinity of the elevator, Doug guessed it to be for subjects after successful completion of their testing course. It'd explain why the room still seemed spotless.

Two slick and dark gray doors sat on the far side, thee-quarters of the way closed. Doug slipped a hand between and pushed. The doors retracted into the walls, much like automatic grocery store doors.

To the right of the doorway sat a detached observation room. In these massive chambers, viewing rooms tended to sit against a wall. Inside, he spotted a control room. Two desks, two computers, and two windows.

This must have been where the lucky test subjects got their reward from testing, and this must be where the elevator controls were.

He clunked forward a few steps, and Cave's voice roared over the speakers.

"The point is: If we can store music on a compact disc, why can't we store a man's intelligence and personality on one? So I have the engineers figuring that out now. Brain Mapping. Artificial Intelligence. We should have been working on it thirty years ago. I will say this - and I'm gonna say it on tape so everybody hears it a hundred times a day: If I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run this place. Now she'll argue. She'll say she can't. She's modest like that. But you make her. Hell, put her in my computer. I don't care," said the recording.

Doug froze.

Hold on.

Memories prickled at the edges of his mind, memories of Henry lamenting over their inability to find someone worthy enough to pour into a computer and run Aperture forever.

Not once had he heard them mention Caroline. But listening to this—he couldn't help but wonder if that had been the plan the entire time.

He scrambled up the steps and into the observation room, triggering another message.

"If you're a test subject, get out of here. You've got your sixty dollars. Go on. Leave."

Doug took another step.

"Sorry about that. Just had to make sure not just anybody hears this message. At least I know Caroline won't be in here, heh. For as much as she loves testing, she wouldn't be caught dead this close to those grimy, disgusting beings we call test subjects," Cave's recording trailed off, the disgust evident in his voice. "If you're still here, test subject, and your name happens to be Caroline—well, congratulations. Now get out. You're not my Caroline, and I can't have anyone with that name in this room."

He coughed a few times, then continued.

"Been thinking even more since that…rant. I went ahead and copied all information related to that project onto my computer. Caroline's already gone through it. Not much there now. She's taken everything useful. Hell, she probably has all of this already. But point is, I have no guarantee that she won't turn around and delete every last bit of after I—" he swallowed, then cleared his throat.

"After I die. But that's where you come in, Aperture employee. I'm going out on a limb here and leaving you my username and password, because science must continue. These two words should get you into any computer system here, old or new. Cjohnson. Tier3. Trust me," he said, breaking into an coughing fit. The message cut off, pulling the room into quietness.

Doug reached for a keyboard, punching in the username and password with deft keystrokes. He scooted into a desk chair as the system loaded.

A single folder sat on the desktop, simply labeled 'Trash.' Doug clicked, the sound loud and clunking on the older mouse.

Another folder sat within, labeled 'Really, it's useless information.'

Click.

'You're wasting valuable company time.'

Click.

'Back to work, slacker.'

Click.

'I swear to God. If that's you, Caroline, you're fired.'

Click.

'I mean it.'

The icons exploded as the last folder opened. Documents and charts and reports filled the monitor, each one related to the GLaDOS project. More specifically, the Genetic Lifeform component of the it.

Doug scrolled, skimming titles until he found one labeled 'Overview.' He clicked and dragged to the desktop, then double clicked.

Despite what anyone says, it's too late for me to go into that computer. I can barely type this, much less allow my mind to be transferred into experimental technology.

I don't know what she'll say. I don't know what lies she's undoubtedly fed you. I know she wants no part of this project, and if she's still the Caroline I know she'll fight against it until her dying breath. But you HAVE to make her. I don't want her to die like this. Like me.

She's legally bound to go into that computer—it was my only condition for her takeover as CEO. If you ask her, she'll tell you she could never do it. That she wasn't worthy enough. That she could never handle that responsibility.

A load of bullshit, if you ask me. She's probably already running the place—what's so different about running it from a computer specifically built for her?

The document extended for pages, slipping into caps lock halfway through. The poor voice in Doug's head read it in an enraged scream. He had to stop, blink and look away every few paragraphs until his mind quieted.

He spent the next half hour finishing the overview, and then sifting through the other files. He couldn't help but be struck by just how important they were—and how much of Aperture's future had been hidden away.

These documents were crucial.

Cave Johnson had been absolutely right in his predictions—and these files proved that Caroline had been hiding it for years.

Doug logged off the computer and called the elevator, tripping over his feet to get into the other room.

He had to tell someone—everyone, if he could.

But first, he needed to find Henry.


A/N: You may have noticed that the first chapter of this fic is quite a bit shorter. That's because I've retconned the first half until further notice because of continuity errors later on. Sorry!

As always, thank you for reading!