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for-science-ao3 · 4 months

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For Science Chapter 3: R.E.M

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41680413/chapters/135273061

Word count: 3.7k

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Aperture Science Innovators is responsible for most concealed modern-day innovations, namely the creation of a quantum tunneling device, dubbed by test subjects and interns as ’the portal gun/device’. These interns have been fired for calling such an advanced piece of science something as stupid as a gun, and test subjects have been placed on the more advanced testing tracks for teaching the robots of aperture to call it a gun as well.

Aperture thanks you for not being nearly as stupid as those who came before you, and invites you to personally test the Aperture Science Portable Quantum Tunnelling Device.

–

“Elvira Scott. Head of neuroscience. We are here today to consider something our CEO had breached the surface of. The human condition, and how it applies to our robots. Here joining us, we have Assistant administrator of ‘R.E.M’, Michael Stafford” A middle aged woman with graying brown hair sits in the middle of the frame, addressing the camera as she shifts its position on a desk, turned towards the experiment the team would be conducting. A younger man stands not far behind her, gazing down through a glass panel to a room below, similar to that of the testing tracks, if only an observatory room. “Assistant Stafford, do you mind explaining what we’re here to do today?” the woman prompts him, and the man’s head turns a fraction.

“I believe you said it the best we can.”

“Perhaps, but in the event that Aperture’s contingency plan goes into play–”

“Miss Scott, I sincerely doubt these tapes will ever be found by a run-of-the-mill person.”

“Humor me, Michael.” Miss Scott states dryly as she pushes the camera forward, jostling the screen.

“Fine.” The man relents, though he speaks without facing the camera. “It’s a sleep study, sorta. While most sleep studies are meant to diagnose issues with the brain or body during sleep, like apnea, this is meant to study the function of dreaming, how it connects to the human condition–er..study of what makes a life.. How we dream, and how we can use that with the robots.”

“It’s more than that and you know it.” Miss Scott sighs behind the camera, grunting as she stands “This project is sentience. Building it from scratch–”

“Building it from ourselves as the blueprint. Look–should we really be recording this?”

“It’s important to document. For when we succeed. Mr. Johnson will want to see our progress, and how we–”

“Are you going to destroy the tape after we show him, then?”

“...I see no purpose for that rash of a decision. I could learn from my own mistakes.” Her voice is firm and dry as she watches out of the window. Then, she collects her camera into her hands, pressing it to the glass. Below the glass lay a balding man on his back, covered by a white sheet, with a team of three members of staff pulling sheets of paper and documents produced from some machine.

“We’ve got the physiology team down there. New hires, first test run. Should consider themselves lucky to have such an easy task to start with”

“They have to deal with your temper, not particularly lucky.” Michael drones off screen in apparent disinterest.

“Well, Michael, I’m doing something to further this company–our tests–”

“Our tests are damaging people in so many–”

The speaker to the tablet is covered, and the conversation is mostly muffled, until it pauses and cuts to Miss Scott being in the room with the sleeping man and the team of three. A powder white room with nothing interesting beyond a stagnant brown ceiling and a set of stairs leading to the observing room.

“So–tell me what’s all going on here.”

“Miss Scott, the subject requested that we not film him–”

“I’ll do as I need for science.” Miss Scott answers. The one young woman of the team blinks,surprised. Elvira continues “So what’s all this for? What exactly are we tracking here?”

“Well–well we all know the human condition. What makes us alive–birth, experience, morality, conflict, death..we can’t legally force a conflict for us to study a human’s brain waves under stress,so..we induce nightmares.”

“And what does that do?”

“It’s a safer way to study a stressed brain–simulated conflict. The subject is unaware when the nightmare starts and ends, and is subdued to prevent waking up before the test is over..”

“Glad to hear it. We’re doing this for the push forwards. Science depends on all of us. You’re new, but you’ll learn to get it.” Elvira sounds pleased.

“Why are we doing this to this man?”

“..We don’t ask why, just do what you’re told.”

–

The video cuts out unceremoniously, and the tablet screen goes dark after a few moments of inactivity while you stare blankly down at the screen. It wasn’t as terrible as you could’ve been expecting, but it was..stunting.

“..We should get a move on, i think..er..shouldn’t let her die,right?” Wheatley grunts, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the endless line at catwalks. He starts walking slowly, ever so achingly slow when you don’t immediately answer. When you set the tablet back down on the floor with furrowed brows, Wheatley starts talking ‘So, after we get her out–which we will,most definitely. Still ironing out all the um..details there, but I've got plenty of ideas to shell out–we’ll even bounce back and forth, maybe? Again–really good to have another voice around, speaking of which, you’re reminding me of her right now.’

“Are we really just gonna move past that?” You question as you jog to catch up with Wheatley, who squints, looking ahead of himself.

“See–now that’s difficult. Curveball you’re throwing me, there.” he mutters “‘Cause i know i said it wouldn’t hurt–and it didn’t. But I certainly don’t know what to make of it–and you don’t seem to know what to make of it. So..maybe shelf it? Put it on the ol’ shelf–come back to it when we’re not conducting a good rescue-n-run? Sounds like a good idea to me.” Wheatley rattles on, and changes the subject away from the video while he leads you through different rooms. He clearly wanted to focus on the task and hand and not fall off track, and you followed his lead.

It would be a better opportunity to ask some questions then, you decide.

“Do you even know her name? Or her file?”

“Names..names..See, i didn’t check.” Wheatley blinks “Not because I forgot–mind you. I figured–being kind and totally friendly–that I'd let her introduce herself to me. Humans don’t tend to like it when you just already know too much about them from some silly written file.” Wheatley gestures exaggeratedly “This one time–a few years back, I woke this gentleman for annual physical exercise and just checking the whole vitals and all–he was quite upset to know I knew who he was. Nasty fella, that guy.” Wheatley steps through corroding panels and ducks through misaligned panels while he speaks, leading you along with him “So I figured that I'd let her introduce herself. Turns out– immensely brain damaged. Couldn't even say yes, the poor thing.” He shakes his head,sounding something like pitying.

“Yeah. Poor girl.” you agree quietly.

When Wheatley finally finds an observation room with a computer, he gasps with breath he didnt take. “Here we are! Knew there had to be one around here–”

“Is it accessed by Glados?”

“Shuhs-ush-sh.” The robot shushes you,dismissively waving while he types on the keyboard “See, there’s passwords to just about everything here. Super protective-aperture. You know–”

“Right–”

“But, luckily for us, I am a master hacker. Master of the um..hacking persuasion, as it were.” Wheatley’s voice slowly falls to a simulated mumble while he types away. He pauses, glances at you, and ‘whispers’ “A-A-A-A-A-A..-A” The screen flashes red, and Wheatley hums. “A-A-A-A-A-A..B” Another red flash and you find yourself staring at the back of the robot’s ‘head’, amused. This seems to be going well.

“Master hacker, then?”

“It’s a very complicated procedure,” Wheatley claims quietly while he inputs a few different letter combinations with no success. As much fun as it is to watch him cycle through the millions of possibilities, you had to at least try to speed it up.

“Try something random. First non sequential combination that comes to mind–”

“Yeah–yep. Was going to try that next. Curious as a cat, aren’t you?” he mumbles, waving with one hand “Er..It’s odd. Hovering over my shoulder…still hovering. Just–step back, please?” you’re half convinced he was going to ask you to turn around while he typed “A..F..G-R.E..M” The computer flashes white once, and Wheatley huffs “There we are..”

By that point, you’d taken a step away from the computer, letting the robot handle it, as to not hover. You didn’t even think that you were hovering, but that’s just semantics.

“Good news!” Whatley chirps while he walks away from the computer entirely “And bad news–but the good news is that she’s alive and peachy-keen. Doing well for herself, actually. Maybe a little too well for someone who’s brain damaged, but that goes to show what a team player she is, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does.” you agree while you follow the robot back out onto the catwalks. Some part of you would kill to see the testing tracks just to really see what they looked like “--Hold on. What’s the bad news?”

“Well, as it turns out, Glados does have access to that computer. Or..well, rather the cameras in that test. But, additional good news, you’ll like this one– all she knows is someone accessed the cameras. She doesn't and won't know who. But, additional bad news, the next chamber is going to be a doozy to get to.”

“How’s that?”

“Well…Fancy an elevator override?” Wheatley suggests as he pushes open one of the panels through the completed testing chamber and it was remarkably dark in there. You weren’t traveling blind, as the lights were slowly getting dimmer, but white walls looked gray, and Wheatley quietly walked through the held-open door and through the emancipation grill with you in tow.

“So..elevator override. That’s safe, right?”

“Oh yes, of course.” Wheatley assures as the closed tube wooshed, sending scrap and testing pieces like broken turret pieces, scrap metal and cubes through it. An elevator landed, and you followed the robot into the cramped space. The ride down itself was uncomfortable at best ,leaning your shoulder against the glass despite Wheatley telling you to avoid doing something so dangerous just in case.

When the elevator landed, he led back through movable panels to the catwalks where you continued on this everlasting, achy walk.

The walk was never silent, however. You supposed you were thankful for that. Something to keep your mind busy while you walked after a robot who didn’t stop unless he properly noticed you dragging behind.

“Funny enough, the elevators might be some of the safest parts of these areas,really. The airflow going through them would normally be enough to crush someone of ..yeigh-height” h gestures at roughly your height, and you hum

“Funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Wheatley goes on, even while something catches your eye and stops you in your tracks. Immediately after, you were reminded of why you couldn’t stop moving for a moment. The rushing pain up the back of your legs was quite the reminder.

But the core sitting lifeless against a backed in corner of the catwalks was far more interesting than your pain.

Initially, you thought the core sitting along the walls was broken beyond repair, a nasty crack through the outer shell and tears and broken bits from ‘head-to-toe’, but as you and Wheatley walk by, its’ optic opens, constricts, and starts rattling on in a damaged, high-pitched tone “AmAzonian womEn in mythology lived alongside fellow women–BUt there is no suppoRt for the theoRy of The amazons bEing led by saPphos.” Well that was blatantly a wrong fact. It’s spouting mythology, you realize rather quickly. Adding odd Emphasis to different words that didn’t need to, optic gleaming and searching for something.

“I never really thought about just how many of us there are.” Wheatley mutters, staring down at the partially broken robot “Properly disturbing.”

“HUmanity envelops itself in warm suGar flakes and honeyed words”

“See, now even the space-y fellow made more sense than this.” You’d dare to call it pity, but Wheatley aims to walk off away from the robot. “We shouldn’t really..stay long. They’re just gonna keep going. Just…don’t make eye contact.”

Advice that comes far too short as the core stares up at you with a dim optic and babbles “Lovers stand tall and upsIde down, fAlling right-Side up again. Fallen from a toweR of grace to that down below.”

“..Right.” you mutter, perturbed by the core. You could safely say that you weren’t a fan of these interactions. Words that you think could mean something if you really thought about it enough to hurt, but your robotic friend on the other hand, doesn’t seem nearly as interested in whatever a broken core was babbling.

“It’s gibberish, really. The audio processors don’t function correctly, they pick up things they hear and spew it back in a randomized order. Umm…getting them to say something coherent is like..rigging the lotto.”

“So you talk with broken down cores, then?”

“There are plenty of things I've done before. Don’t do it now, of course, have better things to do like…walk for myself, that’s definitely one. Still getting used to these legs, mind you.” You could swear your mind was melting, feeling that you were just walking through the same room once again, and again, and again while Wheatley talks. Is it distracting or driving you nuts, you surely couldn't tell.

Another door, another corridor. Another set of black panels, and after muttering to himself, Wheatley stops walking in front of the set and blue and white backings to the panels. A testing chamber, you assume.

Wheatley peers through the panels to the testing track, watching Chell go through a test. Aerial faith plates, which gave you a rough idea of where exactly you were. Not..particularly any closer to getting Chell out. Wheatley watches with sharp eyes as Chell is launched into the air, catches a cube, and lands right on her feet without a problem–other than a slight scowl on her face the moment her back was turned from the cameras.

The robot a pace ahead of you breathes out, and mutters “seems like she’s er..all better. No more brain damage, then.” he squints “Would’ve been quite nice for her to have gotten better sooner but– um..” a glance thrown in your direction and he gets moving “Actually, it’s fine. Things can wait for later–don’t mind yourself with it.” You didn’t need to speculate. That was a fair change of pace, wrong as it was to think. You already knew it pricked him the wrong way about the fact that a brain-damaged woman was fully capable of catching a cube in the middle of being thrown..but couldn't have caught him.

Though you’d argue that this body was a much harder catch than something the size of a sportsball with a couple times the density. But the sentiment remained.

You followed him through the ‘back-stage’ to the testing track, a line of blue and white paneled arms that glowed faintly and shifted every now and then. Following the chambers correctly was a real pain, with individually placed testing chambers that were all separate from one another. Not to mention the height.

“Agh–Okay um..best of interest, no looking at your feet. No looking down just uh..chin up.” was the advice from Wheatley, who would inevitably be unable to resist looking under himself again and breathing out “Again, just reminding you..terrible idea–looking down, that is.”

However there is something about humans and being told not to do something, you glance below your feet at the seemingly endless fog, and breathe out forcibly.

“Wow–”

“I told you not to look.” Wheatley grunts while he walks along the catwalks just that much faster. You felt the same, desperate to get off of the set of catwalks with nothing below it to catch your fall if anything were to happen.

“Just how far down does this place go?” you mutter”A fall from this height would–”

“Ah, there’s the door” Wheatley interrupts you before you could go filling two minds with the idea of falling miles and miles to the ground below you without anything to catch your fall.

The next room was just about the same as all the rest of them. Yellowing walls leading to another hallway that would either lead to a new set of catwalks, a set of tubes to precariously walk down, or another set of doors. The only interesting thing in the room was a management rail with a stubbed connector hanging down with wires poking out of it.

Wheatley chuffs “Well, look at that! It’s been far too long since I've seen the rails.”

“It’s been less than a day, no?”

Wheatley waves your comment off while he walks towards the rail to investigate. You, on the other hand, lean your back against the wall for a little break. Maybe you would need to stop here at this point. With nothing to really keep you going, energy wise, there was only so much you could do..and to be fair you were unaccustomed to speed-walking after a robot for miles.

Wheatley eyes the management rail with a squinted optic, debating something. Hand on his ‘chin’,debating back and forth in hushed mumbles to himself that you were starting to block out as you rested against a yellow wall, waiting for him to make a decision.

If you had to guess, it was the decision between leaving a human to their own devices ‘back-stage’ with no guidance, or something perhaps more dangerous than that.

It’s a bad idea, as it turns out.

“What is it?” you question, resting your hands on your knees while you breathe. The complete lack of rest was just now starting to get to you, creeping in anytime you stopped walking, leaving an awful ache in the back of your calves and a cold burn to your back. It didn’t help any that you’d wager that you were dehydrated.

“Just wondering how much weight a management rail can handle..” Wheatley answers you, a little distantly “I assume, since it could handle two cores…” he turns to look at you, before his expression goes limp altogether, watching you sit down, arms slung over your knees. He stops talking altogether, and you prompt him to continue

“Yeah?”

“Well um..nevermind that, actually. Looking worse for wear..” he blinks “which doesn’t mean anything–no offense there–just not looking your best is all. It’s the walking, isn’t it? See, I don’t get humans, really. Can walk all over the place, sea-to-shining-sea and what-not, but a few chambers tuckers you out.” he squints “Which is odd. May not have the ability to feel tuckered, myself, but it is weird.”

“Weird cool?”

“Certainly not.” Wheatley stands still for a few moments before he joins you in sitting on the floor with a squint, generally uncomfortable. The fluorescent lighting did nothing to help your eyes, staring out to a black wall with the simple wires of the management rail hanging down. “So resting, that is something–obviously humans have to do. So we’ll stop and have a good rest.”

“Right.”

“And that is–as far as I know–typically done in the cover of silence. Silent nights and um..”

“Right on.”

“Right, silence.” Wheatley mutters “Going silent. Stealthy..not a word, not a sound. Just complete and utter silence.”

It lasts, and you almost think you really could rest like this. Wasn't the most comfortable of places, sitting against a wall, but times of desperation come to this.. Some part of you was at least thankful you were in a part of Aperture that had some sort of heating and cooling–

“Silence..the act of complete and utter quiet.”

To think he’d actually be silent for much longer was silly of you to think. You’d play the game and sit there for minutes just to listen to him drone on, so you weren't particularly upset with the constant chatter. In fact, you rather invited it to continue.

“How is it that you know where everything is? What,with not being connected to the system.”

And while you rest your head back with your eyes closed, you listen to the robot ramble on.

“Well– that’s actually–rather surprising you want to know.”

“You seem well-informed.”

“Well-informed? That’s new–um. I’ve had jobs at one point or another in a good chunk of this facility–or otherwise applied for said jobs. Some foremans are not my biggest fan..haven't a clue what’d make them turn me away. I worked as an assistant for a neurotoxin supervisor once. Accidentally hit a few buttons passing by. No casualties–no deaths, but safe enough to say they weren’t pleased with me. Fired on the spot, couldn't be an assistant anymore. Had to take a gander around, found my way to working with maintenance for a little bit. Apparently–i wasn’t told this– the little turret fellows are supposed to be able to see you from something crazy like…60 feet. Didn’t know that– made em blind. By accident, of course! But it’s not like they’d listen to me. Had some choice of nasty words for me–'' Wheatley pauses in his speech, sitting forwards onto his arms as he blinks “That…Actually gives me an idea. When we get the…apparently not-badly-brain-damaged girl, we take out the turrets. If She can’t use them, She won’t have any way to murder either of you, or damage me.”

Wheatley turns his head to look at you, only to find a human in an immobile, closed-eye state, the only sign of life being the slightest rise and fall while you breathe.

“Right.” Wheatley mutters to himself as he stands up off of the floor “Humans and their rest. Don’t sleep forever, will you? Rather not go through that again” Five times was enough, he’d rather not witness number six and seven before his eye..again.

Wheatley once again finds himself standing in front of the maintenance rail. Grab the proverbial bull by the horns was the saying, wasn’t it?

#portal 2 fanfiction #android wheatley #portal 2 #wheatley #wheatley x reader #chell #glados #gender neutral reader #portal #wheatley portal #chell portal

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