Subject 3281; Chell's Story

The Talk

"Thank you for your participation in the Aperture Science Co-operative Testing Initiative," said the voice, jolting Subject 3281 from her sleep. "And remember, you are making a valuable contribution to science." She sat up and stretched. Had she really been out since... when had she dozed off, exactly?

Her train of thought was interrupted as the human voice came out over the speaker once more. "Both subjects please exit into the designated sleeping quarters, and await further instructions." Subject 3281 looked to her partner, who was sprawled against that horrible left wall, and, after a moment or two of yawning and preparation, they moved to the center of the room, and waited in silence for the lock on the door sealing them in to turn from red to green.

It did in due time, and Subject 3281 led the way into their designated sleeping area. She stood at attention beside her bed, even as her partner proceeded to make himself comfortable on his cot. He turned a sideways glance her way, but she didn't acknowledge him. She had slept through the time allotted for testing, and though all sources indicated that her act of insubordination was only known to herself and Subject 3279, she wanted to make up for lost time.

The floor shook and her legs tensed, but only for a moment, as motion seemed to be becoming quite a regular theme in her life. The rumblings beneath her feet softened into a smooth downward glide. Subject 3281 continued to stand erect, her lips tightening ever so slightly at the corners. At least this she could understand. This she could anticipate.

As the room continued its descent, she used the time to scold herself, as was her custom. Why had she allowed herself to fall asleep during testing—sorry, 'training'—hours? She had never done such a thing in all of her months of testing. Surely the boy must have had something to do with it, she told herself. After all, she had never shown any kind of dissent before, not even on such a small scale. But no, she decided with a small sigh, it must of been her own doing, or at least owing to her on some scale.

At least, she thought, Subject 3279 was the only witness to my negligence. She shifted in her Longfall boots as she pondered her most recent thought. Was it true that her partner was the only human who had been able to attain visible access to the chamber? The voice had said so, it had assured the two partners of it. And yet...

Subject 3281 gave her head a quick shake. Now was not the time to be questioning the authority and credibility of those in charge of their well being. That was not the way to survive down here.

Down here, she could almost hear the words coming from her partner's lips. But didn't we have a life before this? Do we really need to subject ourselves to Aperture's authority? Shouldn't we be free? Independent? Shouldn't we be—

Her shoulders tensed, and she shook her head again, more violently this time. No... no, she knew better. But that wall—

Her thoughts were cut short however—much to the relief of the thinker—as the room came to a definitive stop, and her partner rose from his cot to stand beside her. He seemed to notice her tightness, and looked down into her drawn face.

"Hey," he started, in a guarded, though not altogether unfriendly tone of voice, "you good?"

Subject 3281 stared up at him with what must have appeared to be quite a fierce expression, because the boy lost no time in backing off, both hands in the air. She turned away. Good. It was high time that he knew that empathy would not be tolerated in this room, or any other. Yes, he needed to learn that testing was the order of the day, not communication. Neither of them had to like it—she didn't like it, in some cases—but those were the laws that governed the Facility. Those were the laws that kept them alive.