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“The enrichment center would like to announce a new employee initiative of forced voluntary participation. If any aperture science employee would like to opt out of this new testing program, please remember, science rhymes with compliance. Do you know what doesn’t rhyme with compliance? Neurotoxin.”
- -
You swipe the paint brush across the wall, gold for the hair, blue for the eyes, and orange for the standard issue Aperture jumpsuit. You wonder if he’ll ever see it. See how he haunts your mind, see the warnings that you left behind; sometimes when you lurk in the shadows you can hear the mumblings like a question. Maybe your warnings don’t make nearly as much sense as you think they do.
Another swipe of the paint brush until it’s finished and another drink out of your flask to help ease it all down. You had been stock piling for years, but you now you’re beginning to run out.
Where is he now?
“The final chamber.”
You mean with her. He won’t stand a chance.
There’s a laugh there on the edge of your lips, because in all of your doubts, all of your fears of never getting out of here there was one thing that you never doubted and it was him. If anyone could succeed it would be him, it was he that could make the cynic believe that there was still a way out of this.
That was what you wrote on the wall too many times to count, just those four words: ‘I believe in you.’
You never believed in his science, but at least you believed in him.
Sometimes you wonder if he even remembers…
- -
“How did your aptitude tests turn out?”
“Don’t know, didn’t take them.”
“What do you mean you didn’t take them, every Aperture Science employee is required to-“
“I called in sick,” you lie not even bothering to look up from your computer screen. Your division manager had already thrown a fit about you missing work the day of the department’s testing, but something just didn’t seem right to you.
“I don’t even understand why you work here, you clearly how no appreciation for science.”
“That I don’t.”
“I mean seriously, this could be our generation’s moon landing; the scientific breakthroughs that are going on here are to die for.”
He must have missed the irony in his words, but you don’t.
“I’d rather have been sent to the moon.”
“What do you mean?
Rather than answering his question you pose one of your own, “don’t you think it’s funny that ten years ago they used to run these tests on the homeless and mentally insane and now they’re turning to their employees?”
“They’re safer now,” he replies a bit too defensively for your tastes.
“Then tell me, do you know anyone who has been selected that came back?”
“No,” he replied slowly, “but that’s because we’re going to be greatly compensated once the testing is over, no need to come back to work. They’re probably all partying it up out there or something, living the good life.”
“Or they’re dead.”
- -
There’s a sound of an explosion somewhere and you know what that means, you’re on your feet in seconds knocking over the bucket of orange paint in the process.
None of that matters though, because this can only mean one thing.
You scramble down the halls the companion cube clutched in your arms until you make it there to her chambers. Except she’s dead, finally shut off, an empty shell of the robot that used to be there.
“He did it.”
- -
You’re the one to ask that question that had been on everybody’s mind, “where’s Eponine?”
She had been there the day before looking like a nervous mess. You had been there to see her pale at her emails, but hadn’t bothered to ask.
Even without an answer readily spoken you all know what it was.
He’s the one to speak up though with none of the hesitation seem in the others, trying to reassure you all that this was good for us, that it was good for society, that this was good for science. “She was selected for some new sort of testing,” he says as if that will end the whole discussion.
Little did you know that it had only just begun.
- -
But where was he, surely he would have stuck around to admire his handiwork? To finally see their cruel dictator removed from her position of power.
Maybe he still mourned for his precious science after all.
Where is he? Where is he?
“He’s probably on the surface,” you mutter in hopes of reassuring yourself, “admiring the sunlight. I’ll bet he’s missed it.”
What’s sunlight? What’s the surface?
- -
“They had to kill the switch again,” Combeferre announces like its somber news, “flooded the whole eight floor.”
“Just flooding, that’s not so bad, a bit of water damage and we’ll be fixed in no time.”
“It wasn’t water, it was neurotoxin.”
- -
The turrets are still there, active even though there queen is now dead.
You can hear their voices echoing down the hall. “Are you still there? Come out and play?”
Sometimes one of them almost sounds familiar.
- -
Jehan’s folding the paper over and over again in his hands. The softest spoken of their little group, the second one to be called away by a little slip of paper.
You still have managed to avoid taking your aptitudes tests and are more thankful by the day.
“It’s probably just basic chamber testing, not that bad,” Jehan says trying for a small smile, “I-I’ve watched the testing, its fifteen basic levels, and once I’m done I’ll be in the clear.”
You’ve seen the results of his aptitude tests. They weren’t all that good, a bit below average. You can’t help yourself from wondering if that’s the very reason that he’s being called in for testing, because he’s the one with the least chance of survival.
Its two days later when you’re drunk and lost in a different that you end up near the manufacturing department by mistake.
You would recognize that scream of terror anywhere combined with the soft voices of the turrets asking, “are you still there?”
- -
Freedom.
Finally after all those years of lurking in the shadows of the testing chambers, hiding from turrets, and from her.
Finally you’re free.
Do you hear that?
Yes, yes, you do. You spin around following the noise to its source.
There he is, lying on the ground, bleeding from a wound to his head, but alive.
He’s alive.
Then you look up at see it, one of the personality cores, but shouldn’t they have been shut down as well.
The one that if it spoke you knew you would recognize the voice.
“It’s dragging him back inside.”
- -
“R, come look at this.”
“Uh sure, alright?”
He’s standing there there with a proud grin on his face and some sort of new robotic device in his hand.
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s the latest AI technology, it’s called a personality core,” he said settling it down on the table for a second, “you can connect somebody up with it and it copies their personality. We’re planning on using them as a sort of conscience for you-know-who. Make her a bit more human.”
“It won’t work.”
“And why’s that,” comes the disbelieving tone a moment later.
“Because it’s easy enough to ignore your conscience.”
- -
You don’t have to go in there after him.
It’s better this way. You’re free now.
Isn’t that what you always wanted?
“I can’t just walk away and leave him there.”
Good point. Don’t walk run, run away. You can live another day, a free day.
“I can’t run anymore. I’m done running away from things.”
But you’re not a hero. Hero’s die.
“I’m not leaving without him, not after all of this.”
Then you really are crazy.
“It’s my fault, it’s my fault he’s in there.”
- -
“Where’s Courfeyrac?”
Another member of your group down, the office is getting to look emptier by the day. Everyone is left wondering who will be next.
“He was selected for one of the AI core programs, should be back in a few days, nothing serious.”
You want to believe him, just this once, but even now you can see how his faith in the science if waning. Everyone’s on edge with no way out. They stopped allowing you to return to your homes and families on the surface.
When he’s not back a week later you all just try and forget about it.
- -
Your hands are shaking as the alcohol is draining from your system. You left the other bottles back with you painting supplies, and as your bring the flask in your pocket to your lips you find not a drop on it.
Even down here you haven’t been sober in years it’s hard to play the game sober.
Soon you won’t be needing me anymore…
“I’ll always need you.”
- -
You don’t trust them. They won’t let you out of the facility; nobody’s been able to get out in weeks.
It doesn’t take long for you to hack into the system and bring up the files of all of your friends. Numbers and charts flicker across the screen. Aptitude tests, scores and graphs, the verdict of who is going to be called next.
Then you go deeper than that underneath it all, you can see the corruption now. See how she’s taken over the system, the scientists aren’t even in control anymore. They’re trapped, your all trapped.
You’re not sure what it is that compels you to drag him over in front of your computer screen and show him everything that you’ve found, but you listen as he reads over the words, the gasps of horror falling from his lips.
“This isn’t science at all.”
- -
“No.”
The long-term relaxation stations were made for storing future test subjects, but sometime isn’t right: the light on the station isn’t on.
Something isn’t working. He’s going to die like this.
Your fingers press against the glass as you look at the man on the other side, his blonde hair matter with a bit blood and laid out behind him like a halo, but he’s still breathing just barely.
“I just need to flip the breaker that’s all.”
The breaker’s not too far from there you should be fine.
You should be fine…
- -
It’s not a day later when there’s a letter on his desk.
You can’t help yourself from wondering if it’s your fault, if they somehow found out what the two of you had seen.
You still had never taken your aptitude tests, so maybe she’s forgotten about you.
It feels like there’s a hole missing from the group a day later when he’s gone.
It’s your fault, isn’t it? You showed him the truth?
You did this to him.
- -
The explosion blew the main grid. All of the relaxation chambers are offline.
Flipping the breaker does nothing
There’s one other way, the control room, but in order to get there you’d have to pass through the chamber where you can hear the turrets waiting for you.
Somewhere in the mix of voices asking if you’re still there one simply says, “I’m different.”
You still remember when that voice used to say other things, laughing with everyone around the office.
“Left or right? Left or right?”
You wait for an answer that never comes. You’re finally sobering up at the worst possible time.
In the end it doesn’t matter which way you decide to go.
The turret shots are off before you can even think about it.
This must be what dying feels like.
- -
“Since the instillation of my morality core I’ve lost all interest in killing, now I only crave science.”
“That’s good.”
“I have a little experiment that I need to run, it will require a bit of neurotoxin.”
“As long as it’s for science?”
“Of course, it’s always for science.”
- -
Breathe. Move. You have to move.
He’ll die if you don’t move.
- -
You knew it was coming; that was the only reason you survived.
You tried to warn them, you really had, but they didn’t believe you. They couldn’t see the corruption right before their own eyes and now they were dead. Was that your fault as well? Maybe you didn’t try hard enough this time.
“And now there is just you, all the others are dead. How does it feel knowing that everyone you care about is dead?”
Ignore her, ignore her. If you stopped and let her get into your head she would win. She can’t win, not now, not after all this time.
You just have to find a way out.
“You’ve avoided capture for weeks now, what makes you so different?”
Hadn’t you wondered that yourself too many times?
You took a swig from the flask in your lab coat pocket, before pushing onwards.
“It looks like I’ve misplaced your file.”
Or maybe you never had one, smart enough to delete it before it could be found. That was how you lasted this long.
“I guess I’ll just have to start a new one. Let’s see for starters you’re a drunk, probably seeing things again aren’t you?”
“Bite me.”
You didn’t mean to let her get a rise out of you, that’s what she wants after all.
“If you continue to selflessly evade me and not put science first it won’t reflect well in your file.”
The files! That was it.
You stopped abruptly, changing courses, not missing the amused hum that came from above. Since when did AI’s get the ability to feel amusement?
“I’ve heard that drinking too much can lead to hallucinations. Don’t you think it’s curious that you’re an alcoholic that believes a homicidal computer is out to get you?”
The key card in your pocket still works to open the door to the file room, the one room that she can’t see inside. It was where you had hidden out before when she released the wave of neurotoxin, why hadn’t you thought of that before?
“I mean you’re a scientist, so let’s think about this scientifically. What is more likely that a computer is actually hunting you down or that this is all a drunken dream of your paranoid little mind?”
You lock the door behind you, baring it with out of the file cabinets that spill over with papers when you push it to the side. Surely in here there has to be some sort of file about how to override her. How to shut all of this down…
Its then that you see the files you knocked down all over the floor printed with familiar names.
Names that you can now attach to corpses littering the floors.
You move to push them all aside until your fingers stop on that one file.
There across the top written in all caps is one word, a name, ENJOLRAS.
“What are you doing in the file room anyways? What could you possibly be looking for? The answer you’re looking for isn’t there?”
Maybe she’s right. It wasn’t what you were looking for, but it was what you needed.
The computer is already booted up and it takes no time at all to find the list of test subjects for the chambers. He’s there with a number too far from the top to be called up anytime soon, and this is what you need, because maybe you can’t figure it out, but he will be able to.
He was always about to figure it out.
You don’t even want to admit how you had sighed in relief when you realized that he was still alive.
Test Subject Order Modification Complete.
- -
You’re back.
“How long have I been out?”
A while.
You need to get up; you push yourself up into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in your leg.
How did you know that he was the one?
“Something in his file.”
IQ tests? Athletic ability? Endurance?
“No, nothing like that.”
Then what was it?
“A hunch.”
You might still be able to save him.
You already knew that, but it was only then that you looked up and saw that you were just a few feet from the control board; you could get him out of there and get him to the surface.
You could be together.
You could be free.
Except you can’t because the units are blocked off, they can’t be opened with the override codes that you have.
He’s trapped back there, and there’s nothing you can do.
Patch him to the reserve grid. It will restart his life support.
“He’ll be stuck there forever. If this works then there’s no wake up date.”
So either way, he’s as good as dead.
Still, your hands fly across the keys with practiced ease until from the corner of your eyes you can see the light of the relaxation station turn on.
He was safe, as safe as he could get, and you’d done all that you could.
Both alive and dead, until somebody opened the box.
- -
“Good morning, you have been in suspension for nine- nine- nine – nine-“
“Hello? Is anybody in there? Are you still alive? Well aren’t you going to open the door?”
“Please prepare for emergency evacuations.”
“Stay calm! Stay calm,” the AI orders swinging from its position on the wall, “it said prepare that’s all, we’re just preparing nothing is going wrong.”
“This is a red alert, system down. Please head to the nearest emergency exit.”
“Now you’ve been under for – well, let’s call it a long time, and it’s not entirely out of the question that you might have a slight case of serious brain damage. Don’t be alarmed. Actually maybe being alarmed is the right reaction. Just, well, does any of this make any sense to you? At all? If so just, just tell me ‘yes.’
“Alright, what you just did there, that was jumping you just jumped? Let’s try a different word, how about apple, say ‘apple’.”
“All reactor cores prepare for immediate meltdown.”
“You know what, actually that’s good enough for me, just try and hold onto something and I’m going to get us out of here,” it said one last time before disappearing into a hole in one of the walls, “and remember if anyone asks my name is Courfeyrac and last time you checked, everyone looked pretty much alive down here. Not dead.”