Chapter Text
A loud and sharp sound drills it’s way through my head, jolting me awake and making me wince. She really can’t use any other kind of alarm to wake me up? My eyes are open, I know you see that my eyes are open, WHY ARE YOU NOT TURNING IT OFF!?
“Oh sorry, is that annoying?”
The alarm finally turns off and my body relaxes, my fists uncurl. When did I even start clenching them? My chest rises and falls in a slow, controlled rhythm. Calm down, I tell myself, control it. Especially if she’s watching. She’s always watching.
“Get ready, you’re expected out in 30 minutes.”
Her words hang in the air, a command rather than a suggestion. I lift myself to a sitting position. As usual, I’m just wearing a bra and boxers. Aperture didn’t want to make a whole other machine and design for women’s underwear so they just gave boxers to every tester. My body still aches. I have 30 minutes, might as well get up now.
Getting out of bed, my sockless feet hit the clean carpet. She always cleans the entire room while I’m testing, or she switches me with a new one with my stuff in it. I take my portal gun from my bedside, walk to the bathroom and open the wooden door. I put my gun on the sink’s counter, if anything happens, I need to have it with me. My reflection looks worse and worse every time I see myself in the mirror.
It still catches me in some sort of trance, I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw a person. Maybe this is the closest I’ll get for a while. I wash my face, but I just look a little sadder and soggy now. Of course, like everyday, I brush my teeth, comb my hair and put on deodorant. On the wall next to the door is a metal shelf where clean and folded testing uniforms always wait for me.
I change out of my current clothes, put on fresh ones, and dump the old ones in the basket. I hope she didn't put a camera in the bathroom after I checked for cameras a few days ago. After walking out with my gun and putting it on the table, I look for food in the cupboard. The cupboard creaks slightly as I open it, scanning the cans of food GLaDOS has scavenged from the wreckage of this facility. The stuff in here is usually weird or unappetizing, but it’s better than the disgusting nutrient paste in the refrigerator. I dig through the cans and find chunky clam chowder hiding behind a can of potatoes. Jackpot. As I bring it out, I see the best by date. Did she put expired chowder in here to mess with me? I put it back, she’s just trying to get my hopes up, isn’t she?
“The best by date is simply a guideline for when the texture and taste are at their peak. That can was stored in a Non-Perishable Emergency Food Container, which suspends food in time to prevent spoilage. Of course, the container was damaged during my…absence, but the can only aged a few years. It’s still edible.”
Her voice is so matter-of-fact, as though I should be grateful for her. I take the chowder back out and place it on the table. I open the clam chowder, pour it into a bowl, scrape what was left in it with the spoon and put the can in the trash. It smells... odd, but I don’t have the luxury of being too picky.
“In about 11 days I should have proper meals for you, that canned food isn't really the best for your lifespan. Although, if you do good on testing… Well, my reward system might get me motivated to complete it sooner.”
Another incentive, fuck all this I hate her. She knows what I want, she knows how it gets under my skin. I tear off two paper towels, one for the spoon and one on top of the bowl so if something pops as it heats up, it won't make a mess. I put it in the microwave for a minute and a half. Put my head down on the table and begin to brood.
Why do I even try to get up faster anymore? It’s so boring here. I wonder if there are more cores like Wheatley. Willing to work with me to escape. They probably aren’t allowed anywhere near where she’s keeping me or they're not stupid enough to come anywhere near here. Wheatley was a fluke, and look how that turned out. You’re back in this prison.
Beep!…Beep!…Beep!
The potatoes have a weird texture but in this place, it might as well be ambrosia. I wolf it down, trying to remember what real food tasted like. I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth (with my gun of course) and as I walk out, I can hear the intercom activate quietly.
“I use sensors to measure how much oxygen is in your room, that also means I can smell you. I’m not trying to be rude, I’m sorry, I lied, I do try to be rude sometimes but you do smell right now.”
Sniffing myself I don't really smell at all, I showered yesterday. The soap she left for me smells faintly of mint, no label to identify what it really is. I don’t dwell on it. Deodorant’s the same every day. Sweat defense, nothing with a fragrance, just the sterile, chemical smell I’ve come to associate with this place.
“Ok, fine. I was lying… but you need to take a shower.”
Why, the question is the first thought in my mind. Maybe she put in a new shower or something? I wasn't really paying attention when I was getting ready in the bathroom. The next word she says sounds like she had to force out of her speakers, as if the word was poison.
“please…”
With an obvious eye roll, I go to take a shower. There's nothing new, the same metal handle, the same shampoo, the same clear water, the same white towel. I was kinda expecting her to do something with the water, like setting it frigid or scalding. I put on the same clean uniform I already had on, and combed out my hair again. I sit on the end of the bed while I wait for it to dry up.
“You've had an overall 19% increase in performance in the last 3 days. That's a much slower climb than earlier, and I’m sure you understand that I’m not someone you should disappoint.”
That sounds like a threat, and it’s an unsettling realization that she’s never really threatened me when I’m in my room. I already feel tired when I wake up, I don't care how good I do, as long as I get through without going unconscious with my body getting more sore everyday.
“Look inside the drawer of the nightstand.”
Her voice cuts me from my thoughts. I expected something bad after that whole don't disappoint me spiel, but inside the drawer is an old, thick book. It’s worn, with some crinkled pages. My fingers brush the cover, the rough texture of the paper is familiar but new, like I’d forgotten it.
“I found it while you were sleeping. Chapters 21 to 27 are somewhat water damaged.”
For a moment, I’m shocked. A book? She gave me a book? I didn’t realize how much I missed this, just having something somewhat stimulating. Something to take me away from here for a while. Why would she give me this for what she said was disappointing?
“I would know if your lesser performance was from spite or stubbornness, honestly it reflects poorly on my catering. Don't get any ideas though, if you try to fake being unwell I will not play nice if you're actually sick.”
I settle into the faded floral pattern armchair, flipping the first pages carefully. Did she just want me distracted with a shower so she had time to put the book in? That made me think, are the walls like panels, or maybe parts of the drywall open up. The smell of old paper helps to immerse myself in the story. I lose myself in the rhythm of it. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not in this dusty, cramped room. I’m somewhere else, somewhere warm. I devour the first three chapters before I hear her voice again.
“Proceed into the hall.”
Reluctantly, I close the book, leaving it on the nightstand. She’s probably just manipulating me, trying to make me thankful for things I would have if it weren’t for her. Still, it's nice.