Engineer was not a man who was easily fazed. Years, more than he could count, were spent building, moving, upgrading, and repairing machines on an explosion-filled battlefield, making sure that the right ones ran in the right place for the right reasons, and that he would shoot before he got shot in the process.
His work required steady hands, a clear mind, and a good eye out for Spies.
So, when he got up that morning and didn't find himself in Dustbowl, he didn't immediately question how he got there: that'd be an answer he was sure he'd get later. He assessed where he was, and what he had.
The one thing he still had that he knew was his were his goggles. Other than that, he was barefoot, wearing some sort of orange outfit that fit disturbingly well. Orange pants, pale blue shirt, orange jacket.
He checked his hand, and that's where he started to get a little fazed. He still had it, of course, but where the device was soldered to the original human arm the scarring itched, and the wiring felt sluggish to respond.
He clenched his jaw: some stupid had tried to mess with his hand.
At least they hadn't taken it, whoever they were, or there'd be some real trouble for the both of them.
He was in some sort of little motel room, it looked like. The window only faced some other building, from what he could tell. There was a small closet (empty) and a bathroom, and the door that he presumed led to the hall of the building was locked. He wouldn't try to force it just yet.
All in all, the room was normal, simple, and completely unremarkable.
He took off the jacket, and checked the logo over where the heart would be. He sat on the bed, frowning at the circle that looked like a camera-shutter, a bit of which led into the word 'Aperture'. He racked his brains, and thought it looked familiar.
"Hello, Mr. Conagher, and welcome to the Aperture Science Relaxation Vault. We hope that your brief detention was a restful one, and congratulate you on your recent and highly valuable promotion."
He frowned, looking around for the source of the voice, "Beg pardon?"
"Please proceed outside of your Aperture Science Relaxation Vault, and an Aperture Science Employee Escort will escort you to your next destination. We look forward to working with you."
His head snapped forward as the door opened with a -click-, revealing a dimly lit hall and...something...
He stepped out cautiously into the hall, and blinked at his 'escort'.
"Well, would ya look at that."
The, he'd guess he'd call it a robot, but none like he'd ever seen, beeped at him, shifting on its legs, and he admired that it seemed to show nervousness. It was about as tall as he was, with a round body, a blue 'eye', strangely jointed arms, and the smoothest motion system he'd ever seen. Didn't shake, didn't spark, looked a clean and nice piece of work, and expressive.
It seemed uncomfortable when he stared for a while. It glanced side to side, and then gestured towards the hall, and walked down the hallway before looking back at him, beckoning as it garbled something out.
Man, the suspension must've been something else if it could walk like that.
He followed it, making a note to observe what motors and wires he could see in the thing.
This was definitely not Gray Gravel Co. class.
They went through hallway after hallway, the cheap carpet making the soles of his feet itch, until they went through a door onto various catwalks, the robot's feet clacking against the metal as his got chilled.
He looked around, eyes widening behind his goggles as he looked at this giant machine.
Pipes hissed and thumped overhead, gigantic gears and cogs turned so far below, pistons bigger around than Heavy hissed and whirred, and through distant clear tubes he could make out things tumbling through, cubes and cylinders being whisked around to who knows where.
The air was dry and cool and tasted like that familiar taint of metal and sodium chloride.
The entire expanse of machine was relatively clean, smooth, and quiet for a bunch of moving metal parts and steam and electricity and mechanics. Here and there what looked like smooth white walls moved around like patches against the machinery, and he blinked as he realized these walls were simply another extension of the machine, moving and turning on some sort of complex piston system he couldn't quite make out. A few of these formed a floor for him and the robot when they encountered a collapse in the catwalk, and while they seemed to move fluidly enough, they felt disturbingly solid and stable when he walked over them.
From what he could see, they were squares of 3x3 dimensions that could be converted into walls or a floor, coated in some sort of chalky white substance that scraped against his feet like slightly rough cement.
He looked back, and saw they had left from large things that looked like stacked shipment containers suspended in midair among this giant machine, and blinked as he saw ones being moved by more little machines, ones about the size of the room he'd been in if he was one to judge distance. He'd been kept in one of those?
"This sure ain't Kansas, now is it, fella?" he chuckled, a bit overwhelmed despite of himself, but his companion didn't seem to comment, following directions to who-knows-where they were going.
"Indeed, Mr. Conagher," the voice said again, now more direct than surrounding, as the catwalk led them into an enormous rough sphere formed by the moving squares. "This is Aperture."