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.
She sat up, strapped on her boots, and placed her arm in its receptacle on the wall. She could hear a rustling from her partner's bed, and assumed he was doing the same. After sustenance had been attained and her schedule had been printed, she stood up, and walked to the door of the room, almost forgetting to look at her schedule for the day. She glanced down at her left forearm, and took a look at her itinerary.
Subject 3281
800: Hygienic break
840: Begin testing
2100: Shower, sleep
As she looked up to her partner, Subject 3281 couldn't help feeling somewhat smug about this clear confirmation of what she herself had said the night before.
The boy gave her what she deemed to be a rather rueful smile. "I have to admit it," he said, "you were right about this one '81. I didn't even know it was humanly possible to measure all that time in between tests with only half a year's practice. How'd you do it? I mean," he amended, as she had given him—and would give him—no reply, "you are human, aren't you?"
His partner still didn't deign to give him a verbal reply, but she jerked her head to reconcile him to the truth that yes, she was in fact, human. The boy let out a sound of—as she interpreted it—amusement, and let the subject drop. He took his place beside her at the door, and, after another second or two, it opened to reveal the previous night's sanitation facility.
After the resources therein had been used to the satisfaction of both parties, they stood once more in front of their door, which opened in due time. The two then entered their sleeping area, grabbed their guns, turned around, and waited for the room to begin its routine plunge into the depths of Aperture Science.
~ — — — — — — — — — — — — ~
The door to the test chamber opened with a small hiss, and the two stepped through an emancipation grill, and into a room identical to all of the other sleeping areas they had been housed in. Subject 3281 felt her eyebrows furrow as she looked to her partner. The testing day couldn't be over already, barely four hours could had passed! Her partner looked just as baffled as he ever did however, so she lead the way into the middle of the room, and turned to face the door. Her partner followed suit, and waited for the usual descent.
The floor began to move as soon as the doors had closed, but the direction was wrong, and the room accelerated to a speed that rivaled that of the elevator that had brought them to their first test. Subject 3281 stumbled against her partner, but regained her balance in an instant. They were going up? She was slightly surprised, but grew even more so when the room began to shudder, and a horrible screeching noise could be heard coming from behind the walls.
Her fingers involuntarily clutched the dual triggers of her portal gun, as the two's rickety ascent continued. She looked to her partner, and found that he seemed just as confused about the situation as she did. She collected her thoughts in a moment, walked over to the foot of her bed and sat down, laying her gun in her lap. She began to stare at it intently, as if trying to memorize all of the curves and crevices of her very own—and very worn—Aperture Science dual Handheld Portal Device.
~ — — — — — — — — — — — — ~
The room continued its unusual path for quite some time, and Subject 3281 found herself obliged to rest on her bed for what she deemed to be the good part of an hour or more. She couldn't say that she wasn't grateful for the rest—not even to herself—for her limbs still ached from the night before, and the ride up afforded ample time for practicing her aim with her ASHPD.
The journey upwards was not necessarily pleasant, though Subject 3279 apparently could find no cause for discourse in that time, and for that his partner was grateful. In fact, the boy noticed her plight with the gun, and began to do the same, aiming his inter-dimensional gateways at the back wall, just as she aimed at the door. None of their portals "stuck" of course—the material the room was made of was not portal-acceptant—though Subject 3281 fancied that it helped all the same, as the two could see the trajectory of their shots well enough.
~ — — — — — — — — — — — — ~
Subject 3281 looked up from the spot on the floor where she had been aiming. The room had stopped. After a good hour or more the room had finally stopped. She looked to her partner who's attention had also been obstructed by the sudden lack of movement in the chamber. The two looked at each other for a moment, and Subject 3281 lowered her gun.
The boy did the same, and asked, "Where do you suppose we are now? With all that upward travel," he continued, "we may very well be back where we started. But no," he seemed to recall something and he went on, "we couldn't, the room we were in at first didn't have a room like this, we'd have to go—"
He was cut off however, as the room lurched to the left, the walls producing the worst sounds yet—enough to set the teeth of the room's occupants on edge.
"Sideways," he finished, and Subject 3281 thought she detected something like awe in the quiet inflection of her partner's voice. She couldn't see the reason for such sentiments herself; why shouldn't their room, which had taken them into the very bowels of the Facility, decide that it would do very well to go sideways for a change?
At any rate, she thought as she raised her portal gun again to the floor and made ready to fire, what use is it to me whether our sleeping quarters follow the same patterns as they previously have or not? She drew in a breath and slowly let it go, timing the pulling of the first trigger in her gun for the breath's completion.
Her lips tightened slightly as she felt the yellowish bolt of inter-dimensional energy leave the tool in her hands and hit the floor right where she had aimed it. Perfect. Suddenly, a thought struck her that caused her lips to press together more firmly in their small—though affective—display of emotion. Suppose the two test subjects were being re-assigned elsewhere. It would explain the strange direction the room was now taking—most certainly to the chamber where she had first received the orange-striped gun in her hands and the life-saving boots on her feet—and the unprecedented amount of time it had taken to get up here.
She pushed thoughts and hopes alike from her mind however, as the room's elevator-like speed was now slowing to more of a crawl, and the unearthly squealing and scratching behind the walls had morphed into a sort of groaning whine. She didn't lower her gun though, as she suspected that she may have need of it in the near future.
In a few more seconds, the room's progress had stopped entirely, and Subject 3281 could practically feel her partner's eyes turn to her. She made a point to ignore him, and stood up, stretching and shaking each leg out by turn. As soon as some of the feeling had returned to her lower appendages, Subject 3281 glanced to her partner as if to prompt him to follow her example. Subject 3279 seemed to take the hint, slid off his cot, and joined her on the floor.
The next few minutes consisted of the two attempting to regain feeling in their respective legs, and, by the end of the allotted time, Subject 3281 believed that they had accomplished just that. The boy—thankfully—hadn't ventured a single word to his partner, who was now, after warming herself up a bit and securing a firmer grip on the gun in her hands, waiting for him before the locked door at the front of the room, which would either make—or break—their respective destinies.
He joined her in due time, and the two waited in silence as Subject 3281's ears strained to pick up anything—a sigh, bump, or hiss—that may precede the opening of the circular port before them. At last it came—that ever-satisfying hiss and shick—and the lock shone with a sickly shade of green. Both sight and sound conveyed the same message; the door was about to open.