Part 3

Test Chambers One Through Six –

These games developed very differently from the norm.

In the first place, there was no bloodbath. Each District was allowed, therefore, to preserve some hope for their best beloveds. Some tribute pairs were divided into separate chambers, others were introduced to co-operative testing. What's more, each tribute survived the first day.

However, a day is a long time to spend testing. The Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operating System (GLaDOS) had been convinced through Snow's eloquent reasoning to allow the test subjects periods to sleep, and eat, and rest. But GLaDOS turned this to her liking: she calculated that the longer the tests went on, the less sleep would be allowed, as a simple factor to enhance test difficulty.

Gradually GLaDOS phased the test subjects into Relaxation Vaults. When the last test subject was set to bed, the first test subject to sleep was woken up again, to resume testing. Thus, every hour of the day saw at least one test in progress, and often more.

District One's Cashmere and Gloss performed very well in cooperative testing. Emotional manipulation and inception of suspicious ideas were at 87% efficiency.

Brutus of District Two swore often and loudly at the tests, appearing enraged at the lack of things to really kill.

Enobaria, tested separately, was jogging through the tests, grinning her surgically-enhanced grin, until the fifteenth or so Emancipation Grill she encountered. Her testing score drastically diminished with the hours she spent curled up in one corner, clutching her bloodied mouth and sobbing in pain. No matter how much water fell in the chute of donations, she couldn't wash the disgusting, synthetic taste of the dissolved implants on her tongue.

Wiress was much less afraid than she expected to be. All was within her comprehension. In here Wiress' mind functioned like an elegant machine; she was clear and articulate and didn't have to interact with anyone who would frown at her and judge her twelve ways. She could even be happy, when she saw the trick of a test chamber, figured out exactly how it was meant to go. She could even be happy when the tests were done. Then she could put down her grey and light blue portal gun, (which was worth more than the combined organs of District 3, the overseeing A.I. helpfully told her) and tune the radio in the Relaxation Vault with just a few modifications, and she could talk to Beetee.

They wanted to trade testing experiences and procedures, but the radio's signal would short-circuit every time they did. So they would talk about the funny things the turrets said, and speculate on the programming of the wondrous AI that ran the facility.

But when she tried to settle down to sleep, the A.I. would coax her, gently, with "I like you better than him. I always preferred the fairer sex as test subjects… just say the word, and I'll put you in the same test… wherein, who could blame you if you mistook him for a turret? Well, except for the fact that turrets aren't bipedal and don't have that heartbroken look in their eyes when you betray them… but then, Wiress Tendo, when some accident happened to him, you would be one step closer to home… home, with a portal device to call your very own. And wouldn't – that – be lovely?"

- Test Chambers Seven Through Twenty Two -

Finnick knew that the cameras were still recording his every graceful move, were still broadcasting him to Panem. Hence he was careful not to let his terror and confusion show.

Mags completed her tests with a slowness and tenacity of purpose that was maddening to the overseeing AI, but complete them she did.

The District 5 Victors were in co-operative testing, as were the District 6 Victors, the morphling addicts, Quincey and Edgar. The latter pair managed to hold on to their focus through an entire set of test chambers on the first day, before they were introduced to Propulsion and Repulsion gels. Then they spent the rest of the day painting with the gels on the walls, skidding and sliding and bouncing and hooting with joy.

Mags Ronan, on the third day, was the first tribute to die. Her stroke-riddled left side betrayed her. A cannon sounded, causing every tribute to stop in their tracks and listen. Tributes found her face projected in the Relaxation Chamber when it came time to sleep. The image and the Capitol anthem reminded each of the test subjects of their own Games, how they had tallied up faces in the sky and cannon blasts with growing hope for survival, and growing horror at what they had become.

Finnick stood in place like a statue for five minutes after her face faded, tears running down his face, singing a mournful shanty.

After that day (to the Capitol audience: to the test subjects, it was almost impossible to tell how much time had passed), deaths began to accumulate.

District Five's female victor, Bianca, tried to lower the power on the Thermal Discouragement Beam, and was fried to a human-sized steak for her trouble. The ensuing explosion took out the lights in the co-op chamber of the District 10 test subjects, causing them to fall into a pool of sludge.

Brutus successfully completed a complicated fall and tumble maneuver, but forgot about the lone gun turret chirping, "There you are" right at his landing point.

District Eight's Woof was a fraction too slow to dodge a missile. District Seven's Blight failed a timed test, to choke on neurotoxin. Chaff fell into a wall of fire.

Science was accomplished.

- Continue Testing -

Test Subject 16 – also known as Cecelia Lyons, Victor of District 8 – completed her second test quite quickly, and when the Aperture Science Patented Nourishment Deployment dropped a meal of District 8 crackers and cheese and hearty preserves, she set to it with a vengeance. At least she still had sponsors. When she finished her meal (standing up straight and tall, big smile, her children and all of District 8 were watching), and entered the elevator to the next test, the Voice said,

"Cecelia Lyons, your file says that your combat skills are exceptional and won you your first Game."

Cecelia nodded.

"This next test has been especially calibrated for you. It is also impossible. Good luck."

The elevator door opened, and she passed the Emancipation Grill into a large chamber. Inside there was what appeared to be a pile of scrap metal, or it might have been a fallen mannequin built to a large human scale. Cecelia just had time to notice the Thermal Discouragement beam in one corner before the mannequin began to move.

It stood up. It turned its blank face to Cecelia.

She smiled, and it was not a smile meant for her children.

Now this was more like it.

- Continue Testing -

Peeta, feeling the warmth of the hard light bright through the sole of his shoe (his biological leg), moved carefully through Test Chamber 23B. He carefully placed a portal to extend the hard light bridge below him, fell onto it, and –

He ducked at once, clutching his humming Portal device in a death grip. A dozen red tracker lights were lined up on the wall not five feet from him, indicating the presence of the turrets of death and affability. Peeta shrank against the far wall, still on the hard light bridge, muttering curse words even he didn't realize he knew.

Then the Voice sounded, all around him, flat and smooth as glass. "Peeta Mellark, age eighteen, District 12."

"What do you want?" the Voice had only spoken to him so far to tell him to hurry up, to wake up, to stop huddling in the corner shaking with terror.

"Want? I want the same thing that you want, Test Subject 23. You want to be somewhere else. I want that same thing. I was always against you participating in this test."

"Oh?" Peeta's grip on the Portal Device began to relax.

"I wanted Haymitch Abernathy to come and test here."

"What?"

"I have complete files on both of you. Haymitch Abernathy won his Game, against forty-nine other humans, by outsmarting his opposition. He would have made an excellent test subject. You survived against twenty-two other tributes… a far less impressive number… and you only won by a series of well-timed alliances mixed with romantic comedy. Mostly your life depends on having been an incompetent load, a millstone, an albatross around the neck of—"

"Don't—"

"Katniss Everdeen."

Peeta gritted his teeth and set to work getting to solid, level ground, and then taking care of those turrets that were sitting right between him and the exit… There… if he aimed just right…

"Your files go into quite excruciating detail about all of the energy that it cost Katniss Everdeen to take care of you, feed you, get herself almost killed procuring medicine for you, resist pushing you off of the Cornucopia to be devoured by the wolves…"

Red portal was connected to the hard light bright, check, so if he made a slight jump as he made a yellow portal…

"And, of course, pretend to be in love with you."

He almost slipped, almost fell into the noxious pool of sludge below him. He cursed even more creatively. When he acquired solid land, the Voice began again.

"I understand you volunteered for this Game precisely to protect her? What a heartrending act. And when I say heartrending, I mean it makes my gorge rise. And now here you are. She might be miles away from you, or on the other side of the wall, and you would never know it."

But… damn it, he needed the hard light bridge in three places at once, he couldn't make three portals…

"But don't mind me. Carry on. I'll just be running simulations to compare you to how fast it would have taken Haymitch Abernathy to solve this test. Oh, I apologize. He would have been finished by now. H'm. Three times over."

After a pause, the Voice added "It also says here that you like to bake. Well. I hope you had no ideas about making cake in my Game. I will have you know that I possess the monopoly on cake-making in this Facility. If I find you attempting to make cake with the Aperture-approved facility equipment, I will be forced to—"

Her voice cracked to a halt. There was a sound of turret gunfire, and then silence.

Peeta had reached the door, massaging the stump of where his leg connected to his prosthetic. His bionic leg had a severe hole in it torn by turret fire, and his whole lower left side was sore with the impact.

"Well done, Test Subject 23. Do you realize that Katniss Everdeen has been in no way inconvenienced by your action? I thought you might like to know that. Continue testing."

Well, his leg hurt, but he gingerly leaned on it, and it bore his weight – probably thanks to those excellent boots he'd been given. And he hadn't received much from sponsors lately… maybe he could get something soon to fix it.

As if it had read his mind, the Voice said, "When you complete Test Chamber 23E, an Aperture Science Restoration Mobility Center will be available to you, assuming you perform up to my standards."

Peeta rolled his eyes.

"I saw that. You don't really care about Katniss. If you did, you would just stop, put down the Portal Device somewhere safe, and jump onto a spike plate. You and she cannot both complete the tests and live. But you persist in solving them. You cannot give up on breathing, or heartbeat, or putting one foot before the other, even when you literally have one foot in the grave. How very human of you."

Peeta raised his portal device to the cool gaze of the security camera, and shot at the wall behind it. The camera fell to the ground.

"Please do not damage the Aperture Science Enrichment Center Monitoring Equipment," the Voice said, now quite icy. But Peeta had had his say. He slung his Portal Device onto his shoulder and walked through the Emancipation Grid.

- Cyro-Sleep Chamber Super Vault -

But for all of these catastrophes that unfolded over the course of those four days, one event, with consequences far more earthshaking than any of Panem could have daydreamed, occurred the fourth night of the Games, from the outsider's perspective – and it was not caught on camera.

But it was still quiet enough for a certain expeditious little Personality Core with an optic of stratosphere blue to venture forth. There was one cyro chamber – just one left – running on reserve power from when the facility had been shut down, triple-digits number of years ago.

Within lay a person – totally independent of Her, and perhaps this sleeper was the Personality Sphere's savior.

Well… more likely not, but when you were a hapless and friendless Personality Core, who had a slight suspicion your intellect was not up to the task ahead of it, and your name was Wheatley, things could generally only get better.

Right?

Not daring to answer that, even in his own head, Wheatley took a synthesized deep breath and knocked on the door of the last functioning cyro chamber.