"Welcome, Subject 3281 and Subject 3279, to the second phase of your co-operative training; Trust."
Subject 3281 pursed her lips. She had never been one to dismiss a direct order, but she didn't like the turn this—already unorthodox—room was taking.
"Please direct your attention to the screen on the far wall, and do whatever is further required of you," said the voice, "and remember you are making a—"
"Valuable contribution to science," Subject 3279 said, "yeah yeah, we get it." Subject 3281 stared at her partner with a raised eyebrow. He looked down at her with a sort of exasperated expression. "That guy is driving me insane!" He said in a loud whisper.
Subject 3281 blinked. Perhaps he had wanted her to smile, laugh, or show in any way the mirth he had undoubtedly intended to inspire. The girl stared at him a moment longer, turned away, and walked over to the screen mounted on the far wall. There should never be a time for mirth, she thought to herself. At least, not when your life is on the line.
As soon as her partner had joined her in front of the screen, it flared to life, and the images of two little men—identical to the ones on the two partners' Recognition Plates—lifted their hands and waved.
"Hello," said a robotic male voice that the two knew well from all of their time in the enrichment center, "and welcome to the Aperture Science Co-operative Testing Initiative Trust Training Room. Please pay attention to the images on the screen, and imitate the one of your color." Subject 3281 looked up at her partner, and let out a long breath. This was going to be a long day.
"The first exercise to be completed," continued the voice, "is one of the most fundamental elements of trust; the Trust Fall." Subject 3281 felt vibrations through the floor, as her partner shifted in his newly-tightened boots. "Blue," the voice continued, "please place your Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device on the floor, and move to stand behind Orange with your arms outstretched."
The boy complied—as did the little blue stick-figure on-screen—and the voice spoke again. "Good. Orange, please place your Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device on the floor, cross your arms over your chest, and fall back onto Blue on the count of three." Subject 3281 made a sharp nod, set her gun on the ground, and crossed her arms stiffly across her chest, barely giving herself any time to think about her own actions.
"Good. One," the voice started, "two," Subject 3281 let out a quick breath of air, and flexed her knees. "Three." Subject 3281 fell unceremoniously into the wide, outstretched palms of her partner, and her mouth tightened. Subject 3279 leaned his face over her's with an air of perplexity, as if he didn't quite know what to do next. To be honest, neither did she, but they didn't need to, yet. Their instructions would come.
The voice complied with the general wish, and said, "Good. Orange, please move to stand behind Blue with your arms outstretched." Subject 3281 got to her feet, gave a small sign of assent, and stood behind her partner. As the voice instructed the boy to cross his arms and prepare to be caught, Subject 3281 realized something. It was a minor detail, but she found it strange that she hadn't realized it before. She put it out of her mind however—as the voice had initiated countdown—and told herself that it wouldn't, couldn't interfere with this test.
As the voice announced the number, three however, she realized that she had been wrong. This fact did interfere with the test. Greatly. She could see in the lines of her partner's face that his eyes were shut tight, and he had begun to tilt backwards at an alarming rate.
Her eyes widened as about 160 pounds of dead weight fell onto her outstretched palms. Her locked arms and legs strained to keep up the weight of her partner, but in vain. In less than a second, Subject 3281 was lying spread-eagle on the floor, with her partner in an awkward position somewhere on top of her.
Subject 3281's heart raced for a moment, as she attempted to remove herself from the strange mess the two were in. Her struggles were not necessary however, as her partner seemed just as eager to exit their current predicament as she was, and the whole thing was soon sorted out.
As the two faced the screen once more, Subject 3281 cursed herself. Hadn't she promised to be more observant? More prudent in her assessment of the situation at hand? Hadn't she known that she could hardly lift a Weighted Storage Cube without the assistance of a portal device, much less a—nearly—full-grown man?
Her reproofs were immediately silenced by the quiet but revealing little burst of static that informed them that a human voice was about to speak. "Both subjects are required to repeat the failed exercise." Subject 3281 set her jaw, took her place behind her partner, locked her arms in position, and said one word.
"Go."
~————————————~
Subject 3281's arms strained for the fourth time in a row, as she willed them to hold up her partner's weight. They groaned and ached, but she was firm, and—to the surprise of both in the room—her arms held. Subject 3281's eyes softened. Finally. Subject 3279 stood himself up, and gave his partner a weary twitch of his mouth. She gave him a jerk of the head, and faced the screen. Tired, achy, and sweaty, but ready for their next task.
"Good," said the long-awaited robotic voice from the ceiling. "The second exercise to be completed," it went on, "is the Portal Run." She could see her partner throw a glance her way out of the corner of her eye, but payed him no mind. The voice had said the word portal. She could handle inter-dimensional gateways much better than feats of strength.
"Blue," the voice said, "please retrieve your Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device." He picked up the blue striped gun at his feet. "Good." Subject 3281 heard her partner mutter something under his breath, but she couldn't quite catch it.
"Blue, place a portal high on the wall indicated by the screen." They both turned to the screen, and saw that the wall to their left had been highlighted. Subject 3279 placed his light blue portal as high as was possible on the indicated wall, and the two waited for the voice's inevitable response. It was not long in coming.
"Good. Blue, note the highlighted wall." The boy complied, and the voice continued. "Good. Orange, please do not retrieve your Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device. You will run into the same wall at the count of three. Blue, at the latest possible moment, please place a portal in the path of Orange."
Subject 3281 set her jaw for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and tensed in preparation for her run. "One," started the voice. "Two," she looked to her companion briefly, and saw his whitened fingers tense around his gun. "Three."
Subject 3281 did not hesitate. She ran full tilt at the wall that had been indicated, and waited for the portal to open in front of her. How could it not? Had the voice not told them that it was to be so? And yet, as she ran, no portal arrived. No safety from the hard, paneled wall seemed to await her. She did not stop running. When she was barely two feet away, she heard her partner fire a portal, but by that time it was too late.
She slammed into the wall just as the portal had reached it, and fell through head first. In fact, if it hadn't been for her Longfall boots—which were specifically engineered to let no part of her but her feet hit the ground—Subject 3281 was sure she would have died. As it was, she had been fallen on multiple times, slammed into a wall, flipped through the air, and was now on her knees, which had come down automatically after impact.
"Sorry!" She heard her companion shout from behind her. "Are you— are you hurt? Do you... need any help?" Subject 3281 gritted her teeth, and took a mental assessment of her injuries. Scrapes, bruises and a bloody nose. No, not broken. That's okay, then. After an even, measured breath, she stood up, inclined her head to her partner, and faced the left wall.
"Both subjects are required to repeat the failed exercise," came the human voice from above. Subject 3281 nodded once, moved to a different spot on the wall, and said the only two words necessary.
"On three."
YOU ARE READING
Subject 3281; Chell's Story
FanfictionTest. That was what she did, and Subject 3281 did it well. She was the model subject, fit, strong, on time, and most of all... obedient. That's how she was, until one fateful day, when the higher-ups at Aperture Science figured that they could get m...
