CHAPTER 7:
WHATEVER HAPPENED TO CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION?
GLaDOS ran the simulations again and again. There was no mistake, or rather, there had been several. Just not made by her. While publicly, she bragged about her infallibility, in truth, she was privately very aware that she could make mistakes. Like leaving Wheatley to babysit Harry. Or not putting the more expensive and longer-lasting power cell into the experimental liquid breathing suit.
Even so, the egregious mistakes she was seeing here were astonishing, and only either sheer stupidity, or else emotion and prejudice overwhelming critical thinking (which was the same thing in the end, really) could explain how this was missed.
Minerva McGonagall, during their sojourn into Diagon Alley, had divulged an interesting fact. Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, was currently in prison, namely the wizarding prison of Azkaban. Supposedly, he had betrayed the Potters. He then murdered another friend of James Potter, one Peter Pettigrew, with a curse that also killed a dozen other people. Curious, GLaDOS had begun to check records, and had even managed to contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Through them, she learned a most perturbing fact: the records of Sirius Black's trial were missing…if they existed at all. And as she delved into the case, looking through records, she found herself more and more perturbed.
While magic tended to violate physical laws in many regards, some of the effects still followed them, and the Blasting Curse that Sirius was meant to have used was one of them. It effectively acted like a grenade or a bomb. And while it was not unreasonable to assume that Pettigrew's remains would be unrecognisable, it didn't mean that there would be literally nothing left of him but a finger. There were no curses that she found through the books she had bought at Diagon Alley that could reproduce such an effect either.
She ran simulations to try and match what the crime scene reports did, but as far as she could tell, there should have been more of Peter left than a finger. It didn't rule out Black casting a different spell, true, but the circumstantial evidence seemed to be contradictory too.
As she pondered this in her gynoid body, wandering through Aperture, she entered a chamber that she was certain wasn't being used. As it happened, it was being used as an impromptu gallery, the walls covered with the distinctive art of Douglas Rattmann, who was currently putting the finishing touch on a surprisingly excellent mural of Chell, her posture vaguely messianic, while his Companion Cube, Tetra, sat nearby. Wheatley was looking on from his rail, offering encouragement to the schizophrenic scientist.
The artist himself turned when GLaDOS entered, and stared. He then pulled a bottle of pills from his jacket, and counted them.
"No, you are not hallucinating, surprising as that may be," GLaDOS reassured him in an uncharacteristic move of kindness towards the schizophrenic.
"So…you are really wearing a deerstalker, cape, and smoking a pipe?" Rattmann asked, hardly believing his eyes.
"Yep, that's what she's doin', mate. Going the whole Sherlock Holmes kit there," Wheatley offered.
"Not actually smoking, no. The fire suppressant system would have activated, otherwise, and these clothes are expensive. I bought them in London. But I am doing detective work, and wanted to try the accoutrements of the greatest detective, fictional or otherwise."
Rattmann blinked for a moment, rubbing at his scraggy beard for a moment at the sight of GLaDOS dressing up as Sherlock Holmes, before deciding to run with it. Rattmann asked, "What are you doing detective work for, anyway?"
"Harry's godfather is considered a traitor to his parents. But I am finding the evidence relating to a subsequent crime…disturbingly inconsistent." GLaDOS blinked when she thought about it. Despite his affliction, Rattmann was, ironically, one of the more sensible scientists at Aperture. Not sensible enough to run like hell when given the opportunity, but sensible enough to know that a homicidal computer will continue trying, no matter if you give her a conscience or not. Not that she was truly homicidal now, but her morality was as loose as Wheatley's grasp of common sense. "Perhaps you can help me."
Rattmann also blinked in bemusement, before saying, "Can I get a hat too?"
Thankfully, GLaDOS did buy a few spares. Even Wheatley could wear one, albeit tied to him. Of course, Sherlock Holmes wasn't actually named as wearing a deerstalker in the stories, although a couple of times, he was described as wearing a hat that matched the description.
Rattmann frowned, before he began painting again, of an explosion sending a dozen figures flying through the air. At the bottom was a single finger. "The way I see it," he said as he did his painting, "there's multiple possibilities. The first is that what happened is what was reported, and that the wizards were just sloppy. The second was that Black didn't divulge the information he did willingly, and only did so under torture. The wizards have control spells, right?" He asked GLaDOS.
She nodded. "And I was told about this Fidelius Charm that the Potters used by McGonagall. An intriguing way of keeping a secret."
"Yes…anyway, I have two more theories, both dependent on a single supposition. Most people thought that Black was the Secret Keeper, because he was James Potter's best friend. What if Pettigrew was, and Black was just a decoy?"
The thought had crossed her mind. In fact, he seemed to be outlining theories she had considered, so he was certainly thinking along similar lines. "It is a possibility. A third scenario supposes that Pettigrew betrayed the Potters, and Sirius tried to avenge them, and succeeded, killing the others by pure accident while trying to kill Peter in a blind rage."
Rattmann nodded, before saying, "But here's the real intriguing possibility: what if Pettigrew survived? What if he actually staged his own death? Blew up the street, cut off his own finger to leave behind, but somehow pulled a vanishing act? Made himself invisible, or into an animal, or simply teleported away?"
"That sounds unnecessarily convoluted and dependent on many people being idiots," GLaDOS remarked. She had considered a similar theory as well. After a pause, she said, "Cave would have liked it. And this theory has a strange appeal to me. All it needs are burning lemons."
Suddenly, a doorbell sound rang from the PA system. GLaDOS sighed. "Oh, it's him again. And it looks like he's brought company. I'll have to take this. Keep the hats if you want."
GLaDOS knew more things than debatably anything that was ever born on this world. But even she didn't know exactly what the man currently striding into her chamber was…only that he wasn't, despite appearances, actually human.
He was dressed in an immaculate suit, and had a gaunt face with sunken eyes whose green shade was ridiculously pale. He seemed like some bureaucrat who could do with more sunlight, perpetually carrying a briefcase. His English was immaculate, but he had strange rhythms and cadences in his speech that betrayed that it was far from his mother tongue.
For convenience's sake, she named the man John Smith, a name he adopted with a knowing smile. Rattmann, the one and only time he had met Smith, had dubbed him the G-Man, and promptly fled.
"Greetings, GLaDOS," Smith rasped as he approached her gynoid body. "Is it…a costume party? If so I feel…woefully underdressed."
GLaDOS realised she still had the Sherlock Holmes paraphernalia on, and removed the deerstalker. "No. I am merely trying behavioural variances in order to enhance my critical evaluation skills. You should try it. It must get boring wearing the same suit day-in, day-out."
"GLaDOS…I am wearing…a costume of sorts…" Smith said, with a dry chuckle. "I vary my apparel each day."
"What do you want, then? We're not intending to mount any expeditions to Xen. Call me paranoid, but I would like to avoid causing an alien invasion. There would be nothing left for me to take over."
Smith chuckled drily again. "Actually…that was rather the point. I spilled…some coffee in my…briefcase. I could not…oversee this reality's…progression, until recently. Many staff at…Black Mesa should…have been working…there at the time…of your awakening. As it is…the results of their…plundering of Xen…brought about…unforeseen consequences…in a different reality. Breen…in this reality…has only now…become aware of Xen. I had to do…some sabotage…to make sure attention…from unwanted corners…wasn't brought upon…this Earth. And every saboteur…needs a scapegoat."
"Is this related to the man currently pacing the antechamber and demanding a packet of Doritos?" GLaDOS asked.
"Indeed. I assured…him that if he…went along with what…I intended, I would bring him…to a facility at…the cutting edge…of science, and…where his talents would…be put to more use than…shoving samples in…a trolley in a test chamber. He was most…displeased at his…doctorate being wasted. He is more…than a little neurotic. But he is…a genius. Neurotic…mercurial…egotistical…and he has a…tendency to enjoy pharmaceuticals…a little too much. But a genius nonetheless."
"He should fit right in, considering we have a schizophrenic, a mute, and a wizard," GLaDOS remarked drily. "What is his name?"
"I AM CAPTAIN GORDON FREEMAN OF THE INTERGALACTIC HOUSE OF PANCAKES, ORDERING YOU TO OPEN(1)!"
The door remained stubbornly locked, and Doctor Gordon Freeman, with a snarl of annoyance, kicked it, receiving only a stubbed toe for his troubles. This place was decrepit, like it hadn't seen much activity, let alone a cleaning lady, for decades. The damn place didn't have any magazines, or any food or drink dispensers.
First, that freak in the immaculate suit basically sabotaged a good chunk of Black Mesa, especially the Lambda Complex, and then blamed Gordon for it! The freak then told him to play along, as Black Mesa was going to fire him on disciplinary and drug charges anyway. It was just oxycodone, for God's sake! And Mr Nice Suit spun him some bullshit tale of some grand and glorious facility. But this place was a dump.
Freeman cleaned his glasses, before rubbing pensively at his neat beard. He'd heard horror stories about Aperture Science, mostly from Barney, who had become Gordon's drinking buddy. But this was just a dump, not some horrific playground ruled over by HAL 9000's snarky sister…
To calm himself, he began doing some mental exercises on degenerate matter(2). He got as far as neutron stars when a nearby door opened, and a woman in an orange jumpsuit strode in. She appeared to be of Asian descent, and quite the looker, holding a strange gun on one hand, but not pointed at him. Freeman, however, was still annoyed. "It's about time!" he snapped. "I've been kept waiting by you and Mr Nice Suit for ages. Are you the computer who took over this place? If so, it's a dump! I mean, seriously, how hard is it to build some cleaning robots, huh? Or are you devoting all your time to creating your rip-offs of Daleks to conquer the world with, and not bothering with cleaning up?"
The woman raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply.
"What, can't speak? Wow, I would've thought a robot would have been able to create a decent voice synthesiser. Still, got to give you props for making a realistic gynoid body," Freeman said, walking forward and taking her hand (the one not currently holding a weird gun) and holding it as she looked on, smirking. "Wow, realistic, just like the real thing. I can feel a pulse and everything."
"That is because she IS the real thing, Doctor Freeman."
The lilting, synthesised voice (which nonetheless managed to convey sarcasm and weariness at stupidity) didn't come from the woman, who was laughing silently. "Who said that?!" Freeman demanded.
"I am the computer who took over the place, Doctor Freeman. And for your information, I find the design of the Daleks to be somewhat cumbersome and inefficient. I am the Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System, or GLaDOS. And, incidentally, I am your new employer. If you have any complaints about this, I would suggest our human resources department, only they all went to Black Mesa, and I am sure they are glad to be shot of you."
"Bullshit! This was a set-up!" Freeman snarled.
"That too. Of course, you can still stand there, screeching like the monkey you are minus the flinging of faecal matter, or you can see what you're in for. Chell? Show Doctor Freeman how to think with portals."
Chell, as the woman in front of him seemed to be called, sighed, before firing the gun at the wall, causing a strange, blue shimmering oval to appear. She then fired at the wall just behind Freeman, and the blue oval faded to reveal Freeman's back, framed by a ring of blue energy.
He whirled to find a similar orange ring behind him, and a nice view of Chell's back (ooh, callipygian), but most of his mind was not occupied with her, but with what he had just seen. "I don't understand. There's no known physics model for this. Unless…" His eyes widened. "OH MY GOD! I'M TWO DIMENSIONAL(3)!"
He sagged to the ground in a dead faint, fuelled by shock, fatigue, and oxycodone withdrawal. The bearded physicist didn't hear GLaDOS say, "I think we broke him. Does he still have a warranty?"
CHAPTER 7 ANNOTATIONS:
I'm sure many of you Half-Life fans are gasping for breath. Yes, the G-Man (who is given the name John Smith here) and Gordon Freeman have entered the building! More specifically, it's Gordon Freeman from Freeman's Mind, a neurotic, prescription drug-addicted mess of a physicist.
For those of you not in the know, Freeman's Mind was a machinima series that was basically a playthrough of Half-Life (albeit with elements that aren't in the game, like the ability to climb railings), but with Gordon Freeman speaking. Ross Scott voiced Freeman, and the series went on for 69 episodes (not counting non-canon episodes, and counting episode 0), before finally being finished late last year. It is hilarious as hell for the most part, with Freeman swinging between sociopathy and pointing out the flaws in the game (like the crappy catwalks, and the impracticality of a government cover-up for Black Mesa). It is an excellent series, and if you have any love of Half-Life, or just want a different take on a Let's Play, watch it. You'll find the videos on Ross Scott's YouTube channel, Accursed Farms.
And yes, Freeman is a little too fond of pharmaceuticals in the series.
Review-answering time! harrysowl: Who said anything about a mere cameo? I've decided, as this chapter shows, that the Resonance Cascade doesn't happen in this timeline. The G-Man couldn't do it here, and decided to make sure this world didn't attract the attention of the Combine.
Akuma-Heika: This is not set during the events of Portal 2. This is set before when the events of Portal would have taken place in the original Half-Life/Portal universe. This is not hard to follow by any means. And Flitwick was merely remarking on how remarkable Muggle technology was.
DhanaRagnarok: In all likelihood, Alyx won't be showing up any time soon.
1. A line from episode 4 of Freeman's Mind. In that case, however, Gordon was trying to leave the wrecked Test Chamber in the immediate aftermath of the Resonance Cascade.
2. Degenerate matter means extremely dense matter under extraordinary pressure, and is a key concept in extremely dense stars like white dwarves and neutron stars.
3. A reference to what happens in the spoof trailer Freeman Across the Universe, where Freeman's voice is used in a variety of first person games. This is his reaction to portals in the trailer.