Subject 3281; Chell's Story

An Unexpected Direction

The next three days were rather the same; portals and buttons, cubes and Thermal Discouragement Beams. The two test subjects didn't have much cause to talk to one another during the course of their testing, but—much to Subject 3281's disgust—her partner almost always worked in a sentence or two after their tasks for the day had been completed.

He would ask how she felt about the speed of their testing, or comment on the robotic voice above—how odd it was, for instance, that it had allowed them to retain their ASHPDs after testing—and he had even once had the gall to inquire into her childhood, of which she, of course, knew nothing about. His questions were always answered with a cold nod, or a sideways stare from the recipient, and only once, during the whole course of those three days, did she give him a verbal answer. It was the last day of the three, in fact.

~ — — — — — — — — — — — — ~

It was the two's third day of hardcore testing, and Subject 3281 ached from head to toe. She had forgotten how sore her arms and legs could get after a few days of nonstop testing, and wondered for what seemed to be the millionth time how long she was bound to be involved in Aperture's Co-operative Testing Initiative.

She withdrew her left forearm from the hole on the wall. The two had recently completed their last test of the day, and Subject 3281 was awaiting the appearance of their sanitation facility with a vengeance. She positioned her portal gun at the foot of her bed and determined on practicing her aim the next night, if she got the time.

Then he asked it.

"When do you think they'll let us shower? Sinks don't erase smell you know, just sweat and blood."

Subject 3281 barely even knew her own actions as she replied in her underused voice, "Probably tomorrow. About seven more tests."

Her partner gazed at her in astonishment, apparently not having expected an answer. Indeed, he didn't look as if he had heard her right. "I'm sorry," he began, still looking at her with an air of amazement, "did you say, 'about seven more tests'? How could you possibly know that?"

Subject 3281 glared at him. She hadn't meant to reply, but it appeared that her knowledge on the subject had betrayed her. "I know that," she began, speaking very slowly—and just as low—"because we have completed around forty-three tests altogether including the training courses, and showers are issued every fifty tests."

Her partner's incredulity only seemed to mature as he asked, "How long have you been keeping track? How do you know you're right? I mean," he went on, "how many tests can you have done in all to be able to even have a good guess at that?"

"Enough to know I'm right," she said, and promptly shut up. He didn't press her any further, though she felt as if he had gained some sort of victory over her. Yes, she thought grimly as she took her place beside him at the door to their room, He think's he's achieved something, doesn't he? She turned her gaze to the front once more as the room started to move. He'd have to do better than that to get her to speak again, she was determined.

At last the room stopped, and the doors opened to reveal yet another sanitation facility, as their old one was probably too far above their heads by this time to reach without making quite a journey of it. Its purpose was soon served, and the two filed back into their room.

Her schedule having already undergone its process of removal and her nourishment received, Subject 3281 unstrapped her Longfall boots, set her ASHPD carefully on the floor, pulled up her sheet, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

~ — — — — — — — — — — — — ~

Subject 3281 opened her eyes. A new day had dawned, and it was time to get up.