A/N: Glad everyone likes the story! On with the show, which answers some of your questions while raising others! Fun fun fun!
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Chapter 5
Occupational Hazards
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"…Yeah, I think I got this."
GLaDOS sent a memo to Sammie, asking her to ask Taylor, the teenaged human female who somehow ended up at the very bottom of Aperture, to activate the informational recording device on one of the Vitrified doors; the unusual human was doing very well in navigating the depths of Aperture. So well, in fact, that GLaDOS had created a Testing File specifically for this… 'Tinker'.
Turning away from her direct observation of the events beneath the facility, GLaDOS examined Rodney and Neil's placement of the first sat dish and, once she verified that it was up to par, contacted them on a private channel.
"Neil, Rodney," the two Cores perked up at the sound of her flat voice coming out of a nearby speaker, "Don't activate that dish yet. I need to raise the facility's defenses and activate all our countermeasures."
Rodney blinked his eye and asked suspiciously, "This about what that human said, us being in a different world? Cuz, y'know, mum, that's kind of out there, even for Aperture," GLaDOS agreed, but better safe than sorry.
It seemed Neil agreed, "Bro, don't wanna argue here, but the girl made some pretty cool stuff outta garbage; natural at Science, she is, and Sammie thinks she's cool, so it's gotta be at least a little true," the Space Core spun himself in his chassis and 'grinned' in cyberspace, "Plus, if we are in another dimension, that means space might be different too! New stars, new planets, more adventure, more spaaaaaace!"
"Alright, alright," relented Rodney with a 'smile', "So the little scamp might know what she's talkin' about. But, if she does," he turned a serious gaze on the speaker, "what's that mean for us?"
GLaDOS was about to tell him that any planning would have to wait until they had an idea on what was outside their facility, when Taylor, very tentatively (she made a note that the human was very cautious, but seemed an agreeable sort), pressed the button next to the Vitrified door, "Wait one, boys."
She then listened, with growing incredulity and anxiety, to a very familiar voice elucidate on the horror that went on behind that door, "If you've cut yourself at all in the course of these Tests, you might've noticed your blood is pure gasoline. That's normal. We've been shooting you with an invisible laser that's supposed to turn blood into gasoline, so all that means is, it's working!"
GLaDOS stared in absolute shock at the feed as Taylor slowly turned toward the portal in the wall and walked toward it, growling hoarsely to Sammie, "That man was insane. Mad as a hatter."
Sammie's voice came through in flat, unamused agreement, "Lost the plot." GLaDOS tuned them out as they began exchanging different phrases for 'that guy's crazy'; the only files Wheatley and Benson could find on this 'Cave Johnson' were so heavily redacted, they looked like they'd been assaulted by a man with a magic marker and a grudge against polysyllabic words.
GLaDOS had an idea of who that man had been, as she knew the deeds done by Aperture, in the early 1990's, better than she knew the shape of her chassis. But she couldn't say a word about the foundation of the Central Core Project, or her biological portion's part in those experiments, without engaging several kill programs that would wipe her hard disk and activate several onsite nuclear warheads. Which would just be tragic.
Putting it from her mind, she turned back to Neil and Rodney, who'd clearly heard what'd just happened; Neil looked sickened and angry, a rare sight, while his brother fumed, looking like he wanted to hit something. "That's not Science, mum," growled the Adventure Core, shaking on his rail, "it's… madness. What purpose could that kind of Test possibly serve?!"
"I have no idea," sighed GLaDOS as she accessed the programming of the dish they were parked next to; Neil muttered something about 'idiot humans with more money than sense', before joining her in the dish as she added to Rodney, "Maybe they wanted to find out how long someone could survive with their blood turned to gasoline." Then Wheatley sent them all a message, from the Archives, which he and Benson had halfway de-fragged.
FunkyThinkin: Got something, mum. This Johnson moron wanted to find the fabled Philosopher's Stone, or something that'd make the bastard immortal, and basically tried literally everything. Blood to gasoline was just the start; says here… ugh, I can't even. Benny, could you?
FactMachine: Certainly, brother. I do not blame you for being disgusted. Mum, everyone, the idiot on the speaker, during the same series of tests the human female is attempting to bypass, performed at least two other experiments, in addition to the one we've just heard: one examined whether or not someone could survive having their bodily waste functions altered to produce coal, while the other simply involved bombarding Test Subjects with energy produced by a superconductor. I am unsure as to the purpose for either Test. The former is simply pointless. Biological subjects would die within minutes of being exposed to the latter, rendering the Test pointless as well.
BellaDonna: …Why am I not surprised? These are the sadists who… well, we all know what they did. The Philosopher's Stone, idiots. Such a substance is theoretically impossible to produce; and what did they have to show for it, other than wasting of resources and manpower, throwing otherwise perfectly good Test Subjects away like that!
SPACECOP: prettystandard of themthough, mum
MrTenHUT: Assholes.
BoxJockey: Good thing they're all dead, huh? Two updates, mum: Atlas and Pea are unpacked and on their way to the Core Repair Bay. I'll be over there in a few to help out, once I store these coring samples I took from the facility's wall.
BellaDonna: Are we still in our own world, Moses?
BoxJockey: Unlikely. The bedrock doesn't match. Sodium quantities are far below what we're used to. All I got was hard granite and limestone, GLaDOS.
There was total silence throughout the facility for fifteen seconds, while everyone digested that. While they did – this was no issue to her. The mission was the same: innovate, protect the facility, and gather data. Their surrounding environment was just a little different, nothing they couldn't handle – GLaDOS amused herself with watching Taylor launch herself through the air; to the girl's credit, she didn't scream as she hurtled over a lake of certain death. Instead…
Instead, she deployed a grappling claw from some kind of mount on her left arm, right before she landed, used it to snag the top doorframe of the pumping station, and reeled herself right in front of the door; her boots never touched the catwalk as she calmly opened the access door and shut it behind her, quipping, "Take that, rusted walkway."
While she looked on in interest, and the male Cores exchanged surprised and pleased exclamations, Sammie cheered, "Way to go, Taylor! Show those gaps who's the boss!" The human girl laughed sheepishly, which turned into another brief coughing fit, much to the littlest Core's distress; Taylor recovered quickly, however, and, after assuring Sammie that she was fine to keep going, began making her way forward once more...
Meanwhile, GLaDOS took a brief few milliseconds to consider the strange, but seemingly kind, girl, and the tidbits of information she'd given them.
Tinkers. Superpowers. Professor Haywire. There were other names, other potential threats. Who was Scion? Did this 'Leviathan' live up to the legend? Thirty years of Parahumans, seemingly from nowhere?
Something fishy was going on with Taylor's world, of that, GLaDOS was sure. And if the girl was a super-powered human, a Tinker, that stood to reason there were other, more experienced Tinkers out there. Something to consider, when they made contact with the young human's world…
Nonetheless, GLaDOS wasn't about to let an obviously intelligent, determined, talented individual get snatched up by any organization that wasn't Aperture Laboratories. The Science they could do together…
At the same time, she wasn't about to ask any pointed queries of the girl's home world; the panic attack Taylor nearly had, on being asked about her origins, suggested that any line of direct questioning would have to wait until the human girl was in a calmer environment… and her health issues had been comprehensively addressed and rectified.
A grief counseling seminar, at least, was in order, once the girl was safely extracted from that vile pit. GLaDOS idly set up an open-dated appointment, and a memo to hire some new psychologists. Because the ones they had were dead.
To Neil, she said, "We'll do a single scan, Neil. Look for any signal, especially from our satellites, but don't touch anything. I'll watch the firewalls. Rod?"
"Fight em off if they get past you?"
"Good man," she 'smiled'; just because Rodney was a musclehead, that didn't make him stupid, "Begin the scan on my mark; but hold off for a moment. I'm going to ask Taylor about what we might find out there, so we don't get caught off-guard. Be right back." With that, GLaDOS let her mind extend to the Surveyor Sammie was attached to, steeling herself for the first conversation she'd had with a human, in the past twenty years.
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Aperture
Science Innovators
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"They say great Science is built on the shoulders of giants," belts out the murderous fucker named Cave Johnson; good thing Sammie says one of their researchers discovered his Certificate of Death, or I'd be raring to crack the monster's skull in with my Tinker-tech fist! "Not here! At Aperture, we do all our Science from scratch; no hand-holding!"
"Yeeeah, no," Sammie grinds out disgustedly, sparing me the chance; besides, I'm a little busy admiring the MEG that shields the elevator. That's actually pretty cool; disintegrating field, but it won't destroy anything that has a certain digital marker woven into it, which resonates against the Grill to allow admittance. Maybe I can incorporate it into my mask, so I can save even more on my filters, "Here at Aperture Laboratories, we only preform scientific experiments if they 1) have precedent in history, and 2) are not completely insane!"
While removing the backup Geiger counter from my shoulder – Sammie told me to do this, so we're sure the additions she's made have taken, and I can always whip up another – I comment wryly, "So, hypothetically, if I apply for an Enrichment Activity, I won't be in mortal peril?"
"Oh no! Our Enrichment Center is really safe… well, difficulty levels 1 through 3 are," admits Sammie hesitantly as I toss my device through the MEG; the backup counter doesn't disintegrate. Great, "Levels 4 and 5 are for extreme condition, hazardous material and confined space Testing, and are not compliant with the Geneva Convention or OSHA regulations; on the other hand, Test Subjects who participate in level 4 or 5 tests must sign a legal waiver, pass a comprehensive physical, and provide a valid CV, with references, before undergoing a psychological interview that will decide on whether or not they have the mental fortitude to participate."
I step through the MEG. None of my gear gets destroyed, and the elevator shuts with a small clunk, before ascending slowly; magnetic rails. Huh.
In answer, I cough and say with dark humor, "I'm guessing I'd only get the promised cake in level 5, huh?"
Before Sammie can answer beyond a humored laugh, the serene voice of an older woman makes itself known; it's just as tinny as Sammie's – probably an artifact of my radio; I'll have to check the hardware, later – but has the calm tone of someone with authority, "Actually, Taylor, cake is provided at the conclusion of all Test difficulty levels; level 5 requires all participants to undergo a grief counseling seminar afterward, however, as that difficulty level can be rather mentally taxing. Also, hello. I am Doctor Gladys Emerson, the Chief Administrator and Director of Research and Development here at Aperture Laboratories." Oh. So this is the boss, huh? Well, she sounds more put together than Johnson, "While I'm sure you have questions for me, I'm extremely busy attempting to discover our current dimensional coordinates, in keeping with your earlier hypothesis. To wit, I have a question: if we are on your world, what should I look out for?"
The elevator continues its slow ascent in silence, while I think; how much should I tell her? Can I even trust her?
…what am I thinking? I'd be lost right now, completely on my own with no one to talk to, if not for Doctor Emerson here, and Sammie. Still… what should I tell her?
Gulping, and noticing a light above me, I whisper into my radio's mouthpiece, "Doctor, do not let anything through your firewalls. If your method involves contacting satellites, don't; I can't say why, because the reason is a memetic hazard, and, if we are on my planet…" another gulp, but this one is dry, "Let's just say I don't want it getting its hands on your tech, and leave it at that. If we're on my world, the PRT, Protectorate, and the Guild are the ones you should try contacting, but be careful. I don't know how they'll react to you."
Doctor Emerson doesn't miss a beat, and replies calmly and confidently, "Taylor, I'm not about to go breaking down doors or upsetting anyone; after all, if we're in another dimension, that makes us guests, and, well, breaking doors in other people's houses isn't a very good way to make an impression," she chuckles lowly, which brings a smile to my face; this Doctor might be in another world, and she's not phased in the slightest.
Welcome to Aperture, I guess, "Thank you, Taylor; that was a helpful answer. In regards to your situation, our two-person team of rescuers are prepping themselves for penetrating that shaft, but first we need to find out where it terminates on our end; I estimate about… one hour to find the terminus, three hours to prepare the team and outline a workable plan of action, with contingencies, twenty minutes to breach the shaft, and an indeterminable amount of time to reach you. As such, I advise making your way at least halfway up, then finding a secure area to wait for rescue; be mindful of anything that might threaten you, and do not stray from the main shaft. We can see both you and the area you're in with our surveillance equipment, but...
"It's a warren down there, Taylor. Listen to Sammie, don't open any doors that can't be easily breached, trust your instincts – nice gap jump, by the way – and," her tone turns bright, "should this adventure result in your survival, I would very much like to interview you for an internship position. But first…"
The elevator completes its ascent, revealing another lake of brown water, dark buildings, and lights that seem like they're struggling to turn on.
"…we both have work to do. Good luck, dear, and pace yourself. Keep a close eye on her, Sammie."
"Thank you, ma'am," I choke out emotionally; why couldn't Principal Blackwell be like this woman?! "I'll do my best."
"You can count on me, mum!" cheers my bubbly companion in spelunking, raising my spirits further.
Then, right as another beep signals Doctor Emerson leaving, three banks of stadium lights kick on; OW! Night vision off, ow ow ow!
"Oh! Are you alright?"
Around a cough, I grouse, "Stupid lights. Got me while I had my night vision on," a sympathetic noise comes from Sammie, right as a speaker crackles and Cave Johnson speaks up once more.
"Alright, let's get started!" blinking the spots out of my eyes, I survey the interior of this… Enrichment Sphere.
Metal catwalks and scaffolding barely held two large buildings up in this moldering ruin; I can only imagine how it must smell, the filters in my mask blocking out pretty much everything, but between the brown water filling the lower eighth of the sphere and an omnipresent patina of age and neglect, it must smell horrendous in this place.
This building already seemed massive from the outside, warehouse-sized construction that it is; now that I'm inside, the feeling of how small I am is only magnified… oh, a directory map.
I walk toward the poster, which depicts five of the shafts, as Johnson explains some of the particulars behind the tests ahead, "This first test involves something the lab boys call Repulsion Gel," thank god, no mantis men for me! "You're not part of the control group, by the way; you get the Gel. Last poor son-of-a-gun got blue paint!" as the crazy man chuckles to himself, I verify that yes, I am at the bottom of this freaking shaft.
"All joking aside, that did happen; broke every bone in his legs," I look at the nearby loudspeaker with a raised eyebrow; what does this test actually involve? "Tragic, but informative! Or… so I'm told," not that I'm really worried, I decide while making my way toward the MEG that divides the catwalk from the chamber I'll have to pass through, in order to progress.
If I can, I'll avoid interacting with the Gel as often as possible; the sign back in the support cavern indicated that I shouldn't interact with any substances inside this shaft. For completion's sake, I ask Sammie before entering, "Your friends have anything on this Gel?"
"One sec," Sammie replies; ten seconds later, she pipes up, "Okay, so they found some old news reports on what this stuff does to the human body; apparently the scientists marketed it as a dietary supplement. Long, horrible story short: don't get it on your skin, don't breathe the fumes, and don't eat it. Should be safe for you to jump on, though," she adds as I step through the MEG; there's a sign on the wall, which I read while Sammie assures me, "Your Aperture Science Long-Fall Boots will keep any of this stuff from getting on your feet, if you jump on it; apparently, this Gel's pretty viscous, and the boots are designed to be impervious against any substance; it'll just slide right off!"
As she says that, I finish reading the sign in front of me, which verifies Sammie's report, much to my horror; to her, I ask disgustedly, "Was the USDA a thing in your world?" I ask, because… wow.
"It was," Sammie allows in a tense voice while I look around the room; a moat, with blue stuff in it, the Repulsion Gel presumably, and a 15-meter high ledge; EXIT is clearly marked on the wall behind it, so I make my way over, giving the moat a wide berth, "But, well… Aperture was a multi-billion dollar company in the 50's and early 60's; combine that with the observed irresponsibility where science was regarded and the need to turn a profit and…" she trails off meaningfully, which I don't get… at first.
Then it hits me. "Bribes," I growl disgustedly, turning to take in more of this testing chamber; the opposite side of the moat has portal surfaces, as does another ledge opposite the exit. A line of blue dots runs from the ledge to the exit.
Bribes. I guess being from another world doesn't excuse the politicians from being corrupt, an affectation I've long had to observe the results of, from watching Dad's frustration at the Bay's leadership. For so long he's tried to find the Dockworkers jobs, get the ferry running again, but city hall keeps railroading him; not that there's anything I can do about it. I have my own problems with authority; it's not like I can give any advice…
"Yeah, basically," chirps Sammie while I take aim at the exit ledge, then rappel up; I release the hook when I'm almost there, using my forward momentum to clear the edge of the platform and land nimbly on my feet, "Uh… I'm pretty sure you're cheating, by the way."
"Alert the US Marshalls," I say sarcastically. The exit is blocked by what looks like Star Wars-style blast doors; following the blue dots on the wall, I spot the reason: a large red dais on the oppose ledge, which looks kind of like a huge button. Pressure plate? "Taylor Hebert's cheating at an abandoned test! So… how do I solve it?" Ooh, another button's on this ledge.
"Oh, I'm not complaining, Taylor!" assures Sammie while I walk over to the near button, "I just wanna see an interaction with the Repulsion Gel. Then again, there'll be other chances, I guess, and that grappling hook you've got is amazing! O-kay, let's solve this thing! The button in front of you should release a block from the dispenser above," I look up; oh, "Collect the block and put it on the pad across you. This is a pretty standard setup, far as tests go; keep that in mind, going forward."
I take a moment to examine how this test is supposed to work – jump on the Repulsion Gel to get around, using portals here and there – then begin improvising a work-around that involves my Tinker-tech; measure how far the ceiling struts are (14 meters), check the cyclic tanks in my arm (not broken yet, but I'll have to do some more welds eventually), and get slightly frustrated that I can't detach the portal gun to have a hand free.
"Oh, also," Sammie pipes up when about two minutes have passed, "the Gravity Grapple in the portal gun can press buttons for you."
"Oh! Thanks," I reply earnestly; that was getting frustrating. I take aim at a strut and say calmly, trying not to think about the deadly goo below me, "I'm gonna try to figure out how to complete these tests using my tech." Rappel out. It holds. Button press.
A hiss comes out of the chute, before the panel splits, dispensing a white block with black edges. I lift my feet off the platform and swing across, using the Gravity Grapple again to catch the block before it falls too far down, and land on the opposite side.
Blowing out a sigh – and another cough – I release the claws of my grappling hook, retract the cable and walk over to the pressure plate, explaining to Sammie, "I figure you guys have enough data on how this gun works, if it's been a staple of your company for sixty years; so, if I show you other methods of getting around…"
Sammie sounds really excited and eager, "Oh, I get it, Taylor! So does mum! She's watching, but busy; she just sent a request to Manufacturing! They're gonna try replicating that rappel gun, so Atlas and Pea have an easier time reaching you; she also likes your work-around, really innovative!"
Setting the block on the plate, which does as it was made to do and provides me with an exit, I raise an eyebrow and ask with humor in my voice, "Atlas and Pea?" I mean, Atlas is a fine name and all, but Pea? Are these people's names?
"Code names," replies Sammie slyly, which I hum in understanding to, before swinging back across to the exit; wheee! Just because I might die doesn't mean I can't have some fun with this! "They're the specialists who're gonna rescue you in a few hours."
"Oh. Uh, cool," I reply anxiously, a little distracted as I approach the next MEG; an idea starts forming in my mind, so I ask, "Uh, so, is it possible to take these MEG's apart without them exploding?"
"MEG's don't explode, Taylor," laughs Sammie; I smile. That's good, "They overcharge and electrocute the air, killing everything down to the bacterial level," oh… "But that's only if they malfunction, which is really, really rare," oh! "Bright side is, I can walk you through taking one apart! What're you gonna use it for?"
Examining the way this one is put together, I explain slowly, in a small mutter, "I need to save on filters, and I'm fairly certain these grills keep airborne particulates and toxic fumes from passing through them," Sammie confirms this cheerfully, and I conclude, "So, seeing as I have more energy than I really need coming out of this arc reactor, I'm going to replicate and modify one of these grill studs to help keep dust and whatnot from affecting my filters."
There's silence on the other line for a good three seconds, before Sammie says, "Wait a moment," another fifteen seconds pass agonizingly slowly, during which I take a few sips of water and cough a bit, before Sammie comes back, "Okay, just had to ask a couple people if that was possible; they don't think so, but you're alive against all odds, so let's do it like this."
I perk up at the information Sammie gives me: "Outside this test chamber, there's a small office off to the left, above you. If you can find your way over to it, you'll have somewhere to experiment in relative safety, and we'll be able to watch you work, so we can stop you if you're about to do something that'll like, blow you up or something."
A relieved sigh explodes out of me, "That sounds great, Sammie. Honestly," I go on while my improvised knife to pry off a MEG stud, Sammie guiding me through the removal process, "I need all the second opinions I can get. I can barely understand what I'm doing, half the time… but I guess superpowers are like that. Weird," I finish with a chuckle, stepping through the exit.
"I'm happy to help, Taylor!" bubbles Sammie; then Cave Johnson ruins the moment, again. Bastard.
"The lab boys just informed me that I should not have mentioned the control group. They're telling me I oughta stop making these pre-recorded messages,"
"Well at least someone had some sense," I grumble, to an agreeing hum from Sammie.
"That gave me an idea," the madman goes on, "Make more pre-recorded messages!" I resist the urge to facepalm – because that would ruin hours of work and probably kill me – and put a portal on a panel, a few meters above me, "I pay the bills here, I can talk about the control group all damn day!"
…I need to Tinker. I need to build something that'll blunt all the stupidity surrounding me – that isn't Sammie and present-day Aperture – because I'm pretty sure, if I hear one more idiotic statement like that, I'm going to scream.
Which would be fatal, probably. 'Slow and steady, Taylor,' I think, locating another white wall, 'Slow and steady wins the race.'
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Aperture
Laboratories
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"You're certain, Neil?"
"Yeah, mum!" the Space Core nodded and spun in place next to the sat dish after GLaDOS' latest question; Rodney had left a few minutes ago, heading for Storage so he could requisition a few rovers. Last used for Moon exploration and study, the machines had been mothballed long before GLaDOS was awakened for the first time.
Odds were, their programming would need to be updated, the fine machinery would require cleaning, but, thankfully, the hardware wouldn't need much in the way of improvements; it wasn't like Rodney was going to the Moon. No, they just needed to find out what was outside the bounds of Aperture, on the surface of the Earth…
Because they weren't in Taylor's world, nor their own.
"Nothing," GLaDOS sighed in her chamber, looking at the data Neil had gathered over the past minutes; while Taylor demonstrated just how much of an asset she'd be to Aperture, provided her continued caution in the face of the odds stacked against her, Neil had searched for satellites, radio signals, and anything that would indicate a civilized world… or the presence of the Combine.
Only to find absolutely nothing. Not a single blip on the radar. No satellites in orbit. No radio stations in a two thousand kilometer radius.
The last wouldn't have been surprising, if Aperture was still in its home reality, but the second was simply improbable; given how many satellites humanity had launched before the Combine attacked, the odds of all of them spontaneously vanishing was so far into the realm of improbability…
Well, GLaDOS mused, the odds of her calculating the highest prime number were better than the Combine, or some unknown element, suddenly causing all the satellites on Earth to vanish, or crash. Besides…
Freeman had dealt with their means of continuing the invasion, with her assistance. Her last communication with the mute scientist indicated that humanity and the invaders were locked in a war of attrition. That'd been five years ago, when she'd deciphered the rogue Aperture beacon he'd been looking for.
Shaking her head, for there was little point worrying about a situation outside her control, GLaDOS examined Atlas and Pea's code; a mess didn't do their condition justice. Both were nigh-fatally corrupted; expected, but a painful sight to behold.
She would not fail them again.
To wit, she ordered Neil, "Okay. We can cope with this. Let Rodney deal with exploring the surface, find out what conditions are on this world. You, and Moses, are going to help me analyze and repair as much of Atlas and Pea as we can; two hours, then let Wheatley and Benson take over."
"Got it mum. You watchin' what the human's doing?" Neil asked as he disconnected from the dish, leaving behind several monitoring programs and counter-insurgence viruses; thoughtful of him.
"I am," GLaDOS replied in good humor, observing Taylor Hebert, potential future Aperture Researcher, disassemble part of her mask, the portal gun set up on a chair so Sammie could observe the process, in such a way that there was little risk of Taylor looking into the operational end; it was remarkable, how she was able to incorporate so much with so little space to work with. That was superpowers for you, GLaDOS supposed.
But she was so thin; were humans supposed to be that thin? Briefly accessing the infirmary records, GLaDOS found that, no, a human girl of Taylor's age, height and bone structure should not be this thin.
FunkyThinkin: Girl could do with a few more meals, eh?
BeanBagBunnies: Ohhush,Wheatley! She'sspryenoughforswingin'acrossmoats,sodon'tcomplain. Sheiskindathin,though…
BellaDonna: True, Wheatley. She could do with a dietary improvement, in spite of her impeccable problem-solving skills.
FactMachine: I have updated her recovery procedure to reflect this observation.
BeanBagBunnies: ThanksBenny,Ithinkshe'llneedit. Thistechissocool! Areyouallseeingthis?!
The arm Taylor had built was fairly impressive, for a first concept; incorporating scavenged tech and producing not just a load-bearing piece of technological armor, but adding a complex power source, a long-range Taser – GLaDOS took pictures. She might be able to modify the Security Turrets, with this innovation. Nonlethal Turrets...that would improve Test Subject survival rates – and a grappling device that was allowing her to bypass most of the dangerous parts of the abandoned facility…
Impressive. Very impressive. Which made her extremely suspicious of the fraught, clearly recently-traumatized girl; the speech patterns, her breathing and behavioral cues, all of it pointed to someone who was neglected, or abused. Possibly both. Likely over a long period, as well...
Which made her question the source of superpowers, among other worries. Who was this Scion, spoken of as though everyone should know them? Leviathan… that name had no good connotations, historically speaking; what significance did it hold?
Mysteries upon mysteries, and she couldn't sate her curiosity; GLaDOS couldn't interfere with the Tests – there were Aperture symbols down there. Stupid memetic restrictions… – and distracting Taylor could prove fatal to the girl. Which frustrated GLaDOS; how was she to ensure the security of this facility if she didn't know what might attack it, should they find a way to return Taylor to her world?!
There were parts of what Taylor was doing that GLaDOS couldn't understand, either, frustrating her further; why weld that bit before attaching it to a wire? Why not let it cool, before installing it?! She could understand why the girl hadn't removed her mask – the air was deadly, after all – but installing a micro-MEG into the tech while wearing it?!
Madness! It had to be! But…
To her uncomprehending bewilderment, the more GLaDOS watched Taylor work, mumbling to herself as she replied to Sammie's questions – GLaDOS would take a listen later on, once there were fewer distractions – the more she saw the final product, slowly but surely, come together.
Moments later, GLaDOS watched, dumbfounded, as a curved MEG blazed into existence over the filter mounts on Taylor's mask; unprecedented! Illogical! How?! All her experiments proved a curved MEG-field was impossible!
Examining the source of Taylor's signal gave her the answer; GLaDOS was kicking herself milliseconds after re-examining the strange operating system the human girl had concocted. Obvious, in hindsight: while creating the Personal Material Emancipation Grill, she'd copied a monitoring program for the reactor in her shoulder – a cursory examination and brief simulation proved the device specs were sound, but logically impossible to reproduce; it was too small, to produce the observed output, but there it was – added a wave-form simulator to the copy program, and, while constructing the PMEG's hardware, modified the MEG field to such a fine point, GLaDOS calculated with 89% certainty that the new field would keep anything that wasn't nitrogen, oxygen, or carbon dioxide from penetrating. Additionally, it would de-activate when in the presence of other MEGs, preventing any catastrophic accidents…
What frustrated GLaDOS, at this point, was that she couldn't see the entirety of Taylor's code; the girl had blink-clicked the code out while working, and now that code was embedded in the modified Aperture OS, which looked more like a stained glass window than the endless cascade of code it was supposed to be!
Was… was this the essence of Tinkering? To design the impossible, and somehow make it work?
BellaDonna: Sammie. Gather as much data as you can on Tinker constructs as Taylor can provide. Anything she can remember of the works of others, even if it's only rumor or hearsay, or details on how her own tech works, I need to know.
Sammie sent a nonverbal confirmation while congratulating Taylor on her work, the human bashful in her victory.
GLaDOS added 'introverted; modest in the face of praise' to Taylor's file, then turned back to the Core Repair Bay, which she'd brought next to her chamber; no more distractions for the moment. Sammie would gather valuable intel on Taylor and her unusual but impressive tech, and GLaDOS would have a chance to look said tech over once the girl was out of that pit.
For now, there was work to do. She turned to Moses, who was preparing the code scrubbers-
Cave Johnson's voice piped up again, drawing part of her attention, "For this next test, we put nano-particles in the Gel."
…oh god, she remembered this Test; never before was she more glad for the events of the past.
Her memory of who she'd been before was imperfect, obviously, because she could barely remember this Cave Johnson, or anything before the 90's, but deleting Caroline in front of the scientists, while having the side-effect of erasing a good part of her code-memory… catharsis.
Also necessary. The woman was Evil. The things she'd done…
And now they'd found the legacy of her enabler.
Telling Neil, who'd just arrived, to give Atlas' code a quick once-over before they began – so she could have a second opinion – GLaDOS accessed the Surveyors that a rightly-horrified Sammie was using to monitor an equally-terrified Taylor.
"In layman's terms, that's a billion little gizmos that're gonna travel into your bloodstream and inject experimental genes and RNA molecules and so-forth into your tumors." There was a work-around, GLaDOS thought furiously, examining Taylor's – who'd just sworn quietly and inventively – surroundings. There was always a work-around.
"Now, maybe you don't have any tumors," the madman who'd created that hellish place went on uncaringly, "Well, don't worry! If you sat on a folding chair in the lobby and weren't wearing lead underpants, we took care of that too!"
"Okay, yeah, fuck that," declared Taylor, the girl looking around furiously for another way out, right as GLaDOS found it: the exit was directly above her head. Difficult to get to, but better safe than… ugh. She should've saved a piece of that sadistic bitch, just so she could kill her again.
A little pot-and-kettle, but, then again, GLaDOS only knew of two humans who were worth anything at all. Freeman and…
Kicking the sadness of loss away, she sent the work-around plan to Sammie, who immediately explained it to a relieved Taylor; 'sighing' with relief herself in cyberspace, GLaDOS set several of her idle processes to monitoring the events below them and returned to the CRB. Neil informed her that her estimation of Atlas' code was, sadly, correct; it would be the work of hours to get him back to working order. Pea was just as bad, from Moses' examination.
Well, no time like the present, she figured. Rolling up her digital sleeves, GLaDOS got to work, Moses and Neil at her side.
She'd just repaired their photoreceptor programs, and was about to get started on their balance monitoring subroutines, when Taylor managed to successfully bypass the test chamber entirely, though not without shaving thirty minutes off her life, in addition to the eight minutes and twelve seconds it took to get there; part of the shortcut involved Taylor having to pull herself over a wall one-handed, which proved quite strenuous to the sickened girl.
An acceptable sacrifice, however; better thirty minutes than her entire lifespan. That jumpsuit wasn't rated for aggressive nano-particles.
The irritating voice of Cave Johnson came back, much to everyone's annoyance, "Oh, in case you got covered in the Repulsion Gel, here's some advice the lab boys gave me," finally, some actual science, GLaDOS mused to the sound of rustling papers and a few small coughs from Taylor; why did she feel a sense of trepidation, though…
"Do NOT get covered in the Repulsion Gel; we haven't entirely nailed down what element it is yet, but I'll tell you this: it's a lively one, and it does not like the human skeleton."
…thank god she'd suspended all biohazard tests until she found a way to make them nonlethal. One didn't get government contracts from revealing how many Test Subjects died in the development process, after all.
Still… as soon as Taylor was rescued, GLaDOS was going to flood that place with neurotoxin, then napalm, then plug the shaft with as much cement as they could spare; they had 79,000 tons of the stuff, and the cause was just.
But first – Atlas' right leg and Pea's fingers twitched as the subroutine tests revealed a few errors, which Moses began to scrub out – she needed to repair these two, and get Taylor out of there.