"Serve me the sky with a big slice of lemon."

- The National

)O(

The facility had never gone into lockdown for this long before. Doug had this horrible feeling of foreboding that he just couldn't shake. What if this time was the last time? Aperture would never admit to being wrong about anything, and after the sacrifices of so many employees including poor Caroline, they would not let it all be in vain.

But he feared, with almost absolute certainty, that this project would result in Aperture's end, and not just because they were solely focused on making GLaDOS a success to the point of abandoning all other research and digging themselves a financial grave. This whole damn facility would be their grave, buried thousands of feet below the earth where no one could hear them scream...Black Mesa all over again, and simply because they were too fucking proud to admit failure.

Doug sighed, knowing this train of thought led nowhere good. He was a coward, a sheep who saw that what they were doing was wrong, yet never spoke up, and instead blindly followed the herd off a cliff. As much as he wanted to protest, it felt like swimming against a strong current or arguing with God; eventually one just gave up, realizing the opposing force was immortal and fighting it served no real purpose. Who was leading the herd, anyway? After Cave Johnson's death and Caroline's...death of sorts, who was in charge?

"You all right, mate?" The voice of his colleague, Stephen Wheatley, brought Doug out of his unpleasant reverie. "You've been staring into space for...quite a while now." Indeed that seemed to be the case, as his computer's screensaver had replaced the page he'd apparently been staring at blankly. Doug had switched it from Aperture's logo to an image of the sky, simple but remarkably good at times like this when he forgot how real sunlight felt.

Doug mentally shook himself. Wheat was still waiting for a response. "Yeah, I just...got lost in thought, I guess."

"Well, next time remember to make marks on the walls so you can find your way back."

"What?" Sometimes Doug didn't get his friend's sense of humor. Wheat just shrugged and moved his chair over to Doug's desk so they could speak without being overheard. He had learned to tolerate the invasion of his privacy long ago. Wheat was one of those types who believed at heart that almost everything could be solved with hugs and talking. Hell, he might even believe in the GLaDOS initiative if not for everything costs them.

"Come on, tell ol' Wheatley what the problem is."

"I don't know," Doug sighed. "The problem is this damn place. I don't think they plan to ever let us leave. They want to contain what we've done. It was a mistake, Wheat, creating the AI. Science just isn't ready for something like that, and then the cores..."

"What a bloody cock-up they are, just makin' things worse," Wheat grumbled, anger flashing in his blue eyes. This was a touchy subject for him, a personal one. "Who the hell would actually volunteer? You'd have to be half mad! God knows Cave Johnson was when he thought up the idea."

"And Audrey?" Doug asked, knowing it was risky to mention her name. Wheat had fancied her before she went and signed up for the transfer early on, in part due to her curious nature and devotion to the company. People didn't come back from that regardless of whether or not it was a success. The whole experience left a mark on Wheat, made him bitter toward GLaDOS. He began to see things Doug's way after that.

"God, that girl...I couldn't talk her out of it." he lamented, looking like a kicked puppy.

"Then Rick disappeared." he added, trying to shift the conversation's focus a bit.

It worked; the corners of Wheat's mouth turned up slightly. "Oh God, that's right! Honestly, I can't say I miss him. How did a bugger like him even get a job here anyway?"

"Same way you and me did," Doug replied lightly. "Aperture got desperate."

"Hey! I happen to be a highly astute computer scientist, thank you very much."

Obviously Wheat still had no clue what that word meant. "So in your professional and oh-so very astute opinion, is it wise to give an all-powerful computer with murderous tendencies access to neurotoxin?"

"Not at all, mate, very bad idea. Wouldn't recommend it one bit. Then again, it appears everyone in this company except you and me are high on moon rocks."

"That's the sanest thing I've heard all day," Doug muttered, turning back to his computer.

A few minutes of silence passed before Wheat spoke once more, "Oh, now why'd you have to do that? We were having fun! For heaven's sake, none of us get enough fun around here, especially during a lockdown."

"This isn't a game, Wheatley," his friend explained. "Aperture has no intention of phasing out human testing and they certainly have no intention of pulling the plug on GLaDOS even if it - she - kills us first. It's not a joke, and as much as I enjoy our light banter, at some point we both have to stop pretending everything's fine and get back to work."

Those words hung heavily in the air until Wheat finally shook his head, adjusted his glasses, and returned to his own desk. What Doug had said was true, but he regretted it even so. The other man had come to cheer him up, after all, yet they both felt exponentially worse now.

Hacking the company website proved surprisingly easy; even Wheat could do it. Doug's message was simple and desperate, meant for anyone who might listen.

When was the last time you left the building? Has anyone left the building lately? I don't know why we're in lockdown. I don't know who's in charge.

He typed fervently, glancing over his shoulder from time to time.

. . .And while we're all working on twenty year old equipment, somehow they can afford to build an 'Enrichment Center'.

He posted the picture from the security feed. Better to watch the cameras so they couldn't watch him.

Whatever the hell a 'relaxation vault' is, it doesn't have any doors.

Oh yes, Aperture apparently had plans for GLaDOS, and it probably involved human test subjects. Only they were the only humans left. Employees couldn't be expected to monitor Her as well as test subjects, so the ones still alive remained in stasis, presumably until this Enrichment Center was complete. Though it was unlikely anyone would live to see that day.

I don't think going home is part of our job description anymore.

If a supervisor walks by, press return!

Doug turned off his computer, then sat back in his chair and continued to look at the black screen in front of him, missing the sky.

Wheat popped his head over the wall of his cubicle. "Lunch, mate?"

Shit, was it time already? Doug said that he would be along in a minute. Then after Wheat was gone, he took two pills, washing them down with cold coffee from earlier that morning. It was far from ideal, but he didn't like to take chances.

Doug headed to the cafeteria, hoping to catch up to his friend.