Chapter 13

"Caroline."

She jerked from her half-asleep pose on her desk, red marks staining her face from where she'd leaned against her hand. She'd been up all night waiting, and this dip into her already-minimal hours of sleep ebbed away at her temper.

She glared at her assistant as she slipped her shoes back on and readjusted her jacket. She wasn't angry. Far from it, actually. He just happened to be the only one around.

Her rage was a mere gust of wind compared to the hurricane it had been earlier. Opening the door to see the light sparkle of shattered glass and an infuriatingly cheerful radio chime into a deserted vault had pissed her off.

Escape from a testing track was impossible without outside help, and a rewind of security footage pinpointed just who had dared to break into her wing.

She had to hand it to Doug—his exploitation of her security had been flawless and their escape would've been admirable, if not so poorly thought-out. Her camera was zoomed in on the inside of the vault itself, and sat on the same wall as the observation window. Reviewing the footage only yielded the sound of shattering glass, and a fleeting image of Chell darting away.

She'd picked her way through the shards of broken glass, gingerly lifting the telephone to call her assistant.

It only took three words to get this situation back in her control.

Stop that elevator.

With some educated guesswork, she realized they'd left for Old Aperture. It would only be a matter of hours before they showed up again—no use chasing them down. Hours had passed since their escape. Neither one had resurfaced yet.

Caroline hovered at her desk, waiting for her assistant to spill his reason for startling her awake.

"The elevator," he said. "It's been called down. They should be back in less than fifteen minutes."

"Well, we'd better get down there," she said. No reason to hurry, though. Reaching the elevator itself would take but a few minutes—and she couldn't believe their stupidity. Did they honestly expect to return in their escape elevator. As if that would slip by her.

"Want me to call some backup?" said Greg.

She shook her head. Intimidation alone should keep them from attempting to use force. And Greg—well, he wouldn't be that helpful if it came to that. "Go ahead and shut down the surface elevator. Just in case," she said. She couldn't afford to let them slip by again.

He gave a small shrug and then joined her.


The elevator cables spun. The box beneath rose, higher and higher as if heavy hands were drawing it up. Currents of air rushed through the sides and Doug leaned against the wall.

Countless steps back to this elevator left his legs exhausted and heart weak. He was a scientist, not an Olympian—exercise wasn't a priority for him. And now his breaths sputtered like an idling car.

Eating something earlier would have been a good idea. A can of beans, or even a drink of water. He could've used the extra strength.

He was being watched.

He didn't know how, or even why. He was the only one down here besides Chell. But ever since those recordings went off, anxiety had clung to him like wet hair after a shower.

He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Caroline could be down there, lying in wait and watching him leave. She could've had this all planned out; she could've played him for a fool.

Doug flinched as loud and menacing laughter burst out from behind him. A sick and hot sensation flared up inside and chocking him into a panic. His heart pounded—he could barely breathe, and his heart jumped.

Heated discussions rose around him, garbled over the machinery sounds but gaining in volume and intensity as the elevator neared the end of its track. Doug clamped his hands over his ears, the pressure against his head growing until it reached an unbearable level.

His vision swam, and he didn't hear the soft ding of the elevator's arrival. Silence rushed over him as he dared to glance around, immediately focusing on three—no, wait, two— approaching figures.

Swift and overwhelming recognition swept through him. Greg and Caroline were here, and they were heading straight for him. His breath caught and he blacked out, the loss of consciousness as sudden and swooping as a glitching computer flashing into black.

"Well," said Caroline as he slumped onto the ground. "That was impressive."


He should have rescued her sooner.

The thought perpetuated itself as he paced his relaxation vault. It'd been at least a day, if not two since he'd left Chell. But however long he'd spent here, Chell had been in this position far longer.

He should have rescued her sooner.

It was quiet here, and the silence terrified him.

But between those brief and frightening seconds of peace, voices swirled around him.

She's going to find her.

You should've picked a better hiding spot.

Everything's worse because of you.

They emanated from both everywhere and nowhere, filling the room with conversation. He never heard Caroline's voice; he never heard his mind's voice.

You're a failure.

All of this—it's your fault.

Why do you even try?

The words cycled through him like an indecisive driver going around a traffic circle. With no radio, no outside sounds, and no people to distract him, Doug only had his mind and his regrets to keep him company.

He should have rescued her sooner.

No one was coming to rescue him; he was trapped. The walls of the relaxation vault reminded him that testing was but a chamberlock away. But just like Chell, Caroline hadn't given him the standard orange jumpsuit.

He slipped into the pod, seeking relief from his mind. The glass hissed shut and stasis-inducing gas flowed in to kickstart the suspension.

He should have rescued her sooner.


Scriiieeeeeech.

The vault rattled as it docked into the testing track. Doug slipped out from his pod, shielding his eyes from the overhead lights.

"Welcome back, Doug," said Caroline. He winced at the influx of volume over the speakers and then grabbed the clipboard from his nightstand. Light boxes listed off potential testing hazards. Burns. Acid. Fall injuries. Bullets. Vaporization. He didn't bother flipping the page to see what else he might encounter.

He let the hard plastic clatter onto the nightstand, then reached beneath it. His fingers grasped at air as he searched for a familiar bottle.

"Don't bother looking for your medication. I've never tested a paranoid schizophrenic, and pills won't give me the results I need," she said. "And though you left me without a test subject, you're here now. And while we wait for her to show her face, a few tests are in order."

"You'll never find her," he said.

"Oh, I will. Believe me, I will."

Doug shook his head—she wouldn't find her. She couldn't. He couldn't allow himself to think like that, not after all they'd gone through.

"Look, you've got to let go whatever vendetta you've got against Chell. I'll test in her place, if that's what you want. Just leave her alone. Let her go."

"You know why I hate her so much? It's not for no reason," she said, voice dipping. "Black Mesa's got some of our most valuable technology thanks to her. God knows how badly they'll screw it up—I honestly wouldn't be surprised if they caused an apocalypse."

"But that's not her fault," he said. "You can't blame her for what her parents did."

"Hold on," said Caroline, a hint of surprise in her voice. "She never told you, did she?" She gave a soft, amused laugh and her face brightened.

Doug pressed a hand against the wall.

"You were so desperate for friendship that you let the girl pull the wool right over your eyes," she said. "Letting her copy blueprints for the tunneling device? Her trap couldn't have been more obvious. Even I didn't think you were that stupid."

"Then how come you didn't see it either?" he shot back. It was practice. Just art practice, nothing else. He would've known about anything else.

"When it comes to my tunneling device staff, I trust them to not be so careless with that information. I suppose I was wrong about you," she said. "Oh well. It's nothing a little testing can't fix."

"You're making a mistake," said Doug. His phonebook of a contract had covered everything under the sun, but he couldn't recall the protocol for mandatory employee testing. The legality of this had to be shaky. "This isn't right."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, voice mocking. "I was under the impression that, besides being responsible for the loss of both the zero-point energy manipulator AND half of the portal device, you broke into my private property, completely ruined a relaxation vault, and attempted to help a test candidate escape from the facility—not to mention whatever you may have done in those lower levels," she said. "But according to you this is my mistake?"

Doug fell silent.

"I didn't think so," she said. "And as soon as I find her, the real testing will begin. For now, though, let's get you started."

Doug said nothing, instead taking a few steps towards the door.

"The portal will open in three….two….one."


The weighted storage cube came up light in his hands, surprising Doug. After toting around his own cube crammed with art supplies and books, he'd expected more of a challenge.

But considering how he'd yet to acquire a portal device, it was a welcome surprise. He plopped the cube onto the super-colliding button, then shot a glance at the observation room.

"This isn't even a real test," she said. "Don't complain. You are a scientist, after all. Not a test subject. I've just got to make sure you understand the basics of cube and button based testing before we continue."

The doors clicked open. Doug moved on.


Bzzzz-ttt.

A backlit panel flickered, flashing numbers and symbols against a white background.

1/19

Nineteen test chambers—that was all that separated him from the end of the testing track, him from Chell. He didn't know how long that could take, but Caroline couldn't keep him here forever. She'd have to let him go sometime.

The blue portal switched with a hiss. Doug ducked into a room, grabbing a cube and then dashed back to the main room. The portal switched. He darted in to deposit the cube.

There. Test completed. If the remaining eighteen were as simple as this, he'd finish in a matter of hours.

And the faster he completed them, the faster he'd be able to go back for Chell.


2/19

The single portal device rotated on a spindly stand, firing every few seconds. With a hop through a portal, Doug slipped the device into his hands. If he ever managed to escape, to sneak in the spaces between chambers where elevators met facility and catwalks joined and panels meshed, the device would be useless.

It was built specifically for testing, not for traversing.

Better than no portal device at all—but not by much.


6/19

Caroline slipped between rooms with ease, often arriving at her positions before Doug himself. "I wanted to thank you, by the way," she said. "I don't often get to use this testing element. I am required to warn you that any contact with the High Energy Pellet will cause immediate vaporization. Please be careful."

The energy ball hissed as it bounced from floor to ceiling like a pinball. Eventually it fizzled out, but moments later another jumped out from the generator. He took a long moment before shooting his blue portal on the ceiling. The orange one on the floor opened and the receptacle flashed blue as the pellet entered.

The unstationary scaffolding sputtered to life. As Doug rode it he couldn't help but notice the growing difficulty and complexity of these tests. His estimate of a few hours may have been preemptive.

One wrong move, one misfire of the gun and he'd wind up as a pile of ash on the chamber floor.


10/19

"These next tests apply the principles of momentum," said Caroline. "Mind your step."

A vaguely unsettling feeling washed over Doug as he glanced at the gap between floor and stairs. The last few steps were missing. He could've climbed up—but with the portal device in his hands, there must be a simpler solution.

Still, something felt missing.

Two icons lit up the warning panel—one of a figure falling into a portal, and another of a figure flinging out of a higher portal. Doug twisted back—sure enough, a swirling orange portal waited above on a panel.

Caroline urged him on from a window to his left. Doug inhaled sharply as he fired a portal beneath his feet, falling then flying then fumbling forward on the staircase.

His legs groaned in protest from the unexpected jolt of landing. It would be nice if there was something out there to dampen drops like that—and if earlier chambers were any indication, the drops would undoubtedly grow larger.

"Long-fall boots," Doug said softly. Aperture had a device built specifically for dampening falls, and yet he wasn't wearing the boots.

"Missing something?" said Caroline. She couldn't help but latch onto his break from silence. Though he'd yet to give any outward indications of his schizophrenia, talking to himself was a good start.

He gave a solemn nod, the stoic expression on his face reminding her of Chell. The chamberlock whooshed closed behind him as he advanced into the next section of the three-part chamber. White tiles explained the same concept—a figure falling, and then flying. He clutched the gun to his chest as he approached a pit.

"That's too bad," she said. "You of all people know that the long-fall boots were built as a foot-based suit of armor for the tunneling device. They're meant to protect the device—NOT the test subject."

Doug edged towards the wall, noting how there weren't any stairs at the bottom of the drop. It wasn't that far, but a fall could still hurt. He exhaled, then fired his portal.

His stomach dropped as he whooshed through the tears in space, and a moment later he landed on the far side of the chamber.

"I thought about it, and honestly couldn't think of a reason to give you the long-fall boots. Your job is to fix portal devices broken during testing, and if you happen to break it—well, you can fix it yourself," she said. "Be careful not to fall."

Doug's face furrowed as he moved into the final portion of the test. All of his tools, his blueprints, were back in his lab. If he broke the device here he wouldn't be able to fix it. He tightened his right hand on the handle as he approached the next drop.

He inhaled sharply, backpedaling. This was the longest fall he'd seen yet, and a staircase would up from the bottom in case he found himself stranded there. Helpful. Well, as helpful as stairs might be to a man with broken legs.

A closed portal glowed at the bottom, and Doug twisted to get a better look at the panels above his head.

Solving these tests was going to take a lot longer than he'd originally thought. Hours had passed since that first chamber, and he still had nine chambers to go. He had to be much more careful than he'd thought. He'd have to take his time.

A mistake could be fatal. He couldn't charge forward and rely on trial-and-error. A misplaced portal or a crooked fall from this high could mean broken body parts.

And if he missed, he had no boots to give him a second chance.

Doug triple checked his portals. The orange sat beneath his feet, and he locked the blue into place on an extended panel. Other ledges dotted the chamber, jutting out from higher and higher up. The scientist wished he could've worked out the test's overall solution before making any moves, but the high shelves blocked his view.

He'd have to solve it one jump at a time.

His stomach dropped as he leaped from the edge. The portal rushed closer and he struggled to align himself before his blue portal flung him across the room. He felt as if he'd been tossed about by an ocean wave, overwhelmed by water and unable to tell which direction was up.

Skreeeeek.

His shoes skidded and Doug tumbled onto his knees. For a long moment he froze, first tense and then relaxing. He'd done it. He hadn't missed. The dots on the wall told him two drops remained, but he'd done it. And he could do it again.

He gingerly felt at knees, fingers brushing the developing bruises. His calves already stung from impact, and his ankles popped as he pushed himself to his feet.

A few more falls like that and he wasn't sure he'd be able to walk.


13/19

"Now that you've acquired the dual portal device, these next tests could take a very, very long time," she said. "Not that I'm in a hurry. But you're going to miss the party if you don't pick up the pace. It's only a few days away, after all."

Of course.

Caroline's birthday.

Aperture's only party.

He knew it was this month, but he hadn't realized how close the date was.

Employees brought in assorted foods and deserts, then gouged them down over the hour-long event. Inevitably, some poor soul wound up with the job of making her a cake—a stressful undertaking, to say the least. Her guidelines for a birthday cake were so precise and particular—a black forest cake, topped with cherries and a single candle. No more, no less. And she expected perfection.


16/19

"This next test involves turrets," said Caroline. "I would warn you further about their damage capabilities, but I'm sure you're already familiar with them. You've got a disabled one in your office, after all. Good luck."

Turrets.

Supposedly for defense, he'd never bothered to fully activate the one in his lab. That high and mechanized voice had been unsettling enough with the guns disabled—and the idea of a fully-armed one made his skin crawl.

"Hell-o?"

A red line streaked across the doorway, wavering then focusing on a panel to his right. The robot gave a few muffled dings as it searched for him. Doug backpedaled.

If he took another step, it'd fill him with bullets. So how was he supposed to get past a three-legged gun?

Oh. Right. He glanced down at his portal device, then darted out from the corner. He placed one portal beneath the construct and the other on a far wall and the turret disappeared.

"A-Aaa-Aaaah!"

A moment later, a soft "Why-y?"

He moved carefully through each turn, listening to turrets call out and then calm down before knocking them off balance. He took his time with each one. Hurrying could lead to mistakes, and he'd rather take his time than incapacitate himself. Besides, Chell was safe.

As long as she remained in that room, she'd stay that way.


Flip.

Skim.

Flip.

Chell sighed, letting her arms drop to the bed. Pages crumpled as the book flopped onto her stomach. It slid aside as she reached for another.

As she cracked it open, a disgusting and soggy smell poured out. While old book smell had never been her favorite, she much preferred the carefully-preserved smell of dusty golden pages to this.

She spiraled down each sentence and paragraph and page, but moments later she couldn't remember a word of what she'd read. Her reading turned into an impossible set of stairs—no matter how far she descended, she made no progress.

She had hoped these books would be fiction—not dull and overly technical non-fiction. She'd hoped for a long and elaborate tale, something she could lose herself in for hours on end. But these—they were far too scientific.

Most were manuals for outdated and obscure Aperture equipment. Others were on nuclear fallout, and one was on the history of the company itself. This collection was meant to instruct and educate, after all—not to entertain the employees marooned in a salt mine.

A similar problem cropped up with the board games. This room was intended to accommodate a number of people—not just one. The only game that didn't require multiple players were a few decks of cards. And even then, she couldn't remember the rules to any solitary games.

It had been three days.

Three days of plastic-tinted water and metal-tinted beans. She'd almost gagged at the first can—and even now, she couldn't eat them without wincing. Three days of building up and tearing down houses of cards; three days of skimming through technical books. It had been three days since Doug had left, and the boredom was beginning to get to her.

She set her book aside and shifted to her feet.

It couldn't hurt to look around, could it?


As Doug turned another corner, the communications popped on. He'd just moved out of range of one of her observation rooms, so he didn't bother looking up at Caroline.

"Good news," she said. "Looks like that 'friend' of yours finally decided to show her face. It has been a few days, after all. I'm off to give her a warm welcome. I'll be sure to tell her you said hello."