Chapter 10: Bullet Hall

Dean looked around, albeit, with a limited field of view. Orange jumpsuit ate up most of his sight at the bottom, his body carefully woven into a few fibers. He was stuck here - to the body of someone completely paranoid and delusional. He hadn't skipped a beat since the blood swap... 

Dean was struck with the mechanical nature of the room. He had completed several dozen tests on his way to the goop, and while the testing was abnormal, the building itself was not. Waiting rooms were refashioned into death traps, offices became life-or-death games of Tetris and incomplete floors were bridges over burning liquid.

They did the job, but they were distinctly human. The tests couldn't be separated from the people that designed them, and frankly, that was comforting. Sure, his life was in danger every second, but he never felt... alone or abandoned.

Ironically, he did have someone this time around. And yet, the rooms had lost this connection to that humanity. They were extraordinarily orderly, pieced together like jigsaw puzzles and intricately planned. There was no room for creativity -  they were laid out efficiently, so that they could be completed in this or that way. He felt silly thinking about something like that, but it was the first thing to really discomfort him about the whole place.

"You certainly took your time!" a sarcastic voice boomed through the room. "It's strange - I meant to let you out right next to the lift, like usual. How on Earth did you end up in that room? It'll be our little mystery."

What was that supposed to be? It wasn't one of the Aperture staff, and it was too specific to be pre-recorded. The voice was almost mechanical.

"And look at that. You haven't eaten in 5 days, and I hardly see the difference. You're so... well-rounded. It's admirable, truly."

Was the voice... insulting his new 'friend'? She didn't seem remotely phased, a look of determination contrasting the more vulnerable woman he'd seen in the misty room. Everything she had said about the danger of this place - did she even believe it herself?

"We can't have you starving to death, now can we? Don't you worry, there's plenty more nourishment mix from the health center. I'd tell you to eat up but... I don't really need to, do I?"

Somehow, for Dean, this whole place was even more menacing than before. The facility seemed to encapsulate what Cave Johnson represented - ambition, bitterness and cruelty for the sake of it. 

A little cup dropped out of the ceiling, and she grabbed it out of mid-air. She seemed experienced with this whole charade, peeling the lid off in just a few seconds and downing half of it. The liquid inside was colorless, and as Dean would soon discover, odorless too. 

He protested as she stuck the thing in his face. He could have drowned in the stuff, and to be honest, it reminded him a lot of that gel they made him drink not long ago. She made a big point of tilting her head over, as if she were hiding from the voice above.

"Drink it!" She hissed. "It's all you're getting here!"

"No more superfoods!" He tried to whisper-shout.

She tipped the bottle over before he could continue, and the liquid rained into his mouth. He expected something horrible, and really, it wasn't. It was basically water, but heavier on his little stomach.

"You've given me a lot of time to think about this test," the voice returned, "And I think you'll like this one a lot." 

A loud beeping, like a garbage truck backing up, suddenly boomed over the speakers. The room they had been in was just a disguise for a much bigger one, as the back wall unshackled into a large hall. 

Elegant glass railings lined both sides, smooth blue tiles making up the floor. Over the railings, little red lights pointed every which way. Dean looked closer, and couldn't believe what he saw. 

"These... don't exist yet. Mr. Johnson said so himself! They've barely drawn them ou-"

She tied her loose sleeve around Dean's chest, so that he couldn't say another word. His mind raced. These were the legendary turrets that Aperture had tied its name to. These were the future of the military - little machines fighting our wars instead of ground troops. They were incredible but... creepy in a way. The laser lights came from the centers of their little heads, and they peered through those very same lenses.

But how were they here? Everyone knew they were nowhere near complete. That sort of technology was just a pipe dream! And yet, there they were, decorating the hall like cute little candles. Furthermore, Dean wondered, what exactly was the test supposed to be? Were the turrets supposed to... help them?

As she turned around, Dean saw something he definitely didn't recognize: Bright blue light shone out of the wall, flying through the air like a magic carpet. It glittered elegantly, suspended in place seemingly without a source. Where was it coming from? It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. 

Had Mr. Johnson withheld his newest discoveries in case Dean escaped? But there was plenty of unreleased stuff in the original test chambers! None of this made any sense. It seemed like something had happened between the dreaded blood swap, and the misty room. Obviously something had happened! He had woken up somewhere completely different. But- no. No, he was just letting the place get to him. There had to be a better explanation.

"Now, I understand if you couldn't quite spot the science in our previous experiment," the voice said. "It was a very... specific test. Nevertheless, I expect a much better performance here. Otherwise, things will get very bad very quickly... for you."

The room seemed to take on the voice's inflections, scowling at the two, hating every minute of their presence. Dean couldn't shake this terrible feeling - that something was very wrong... that something wasn't being said. 

The whole building felt like one organism - one life form. The voice would say something, and then it would come into existence. And then... it finally hit him. The voice was mechanical because it was from a machine. This whole place was a horrible machine.

Cave Johnson and Caroline had guided Dean chamber-by-chamber, helping and occasionally tormenting him along the way. But they had this... artificial intelligence who could've done it all for them? The reality Dean wanted to believe was becoming less and less plausible by the second. Was this lady the sane one? Had Dean lost it before he even woke up? Suddenly very aware of how he might be seen, he completely shrouded himself in the jumpsuit sleeve, terrified of being spotted.

He could see through the fabric, as the woman approached the magic blue light. With her portal gun, she opened a hole in the wall for it to travel through, and oddly enough, she placed the other portal so that it would block off the turrets. Why would she want to- Oh no. Dean had seen his share of questionable testing, but were they expected to literally outrun speeding bullets?

The turrets were arranged in two rows, but two turrets never intersected horizontally. Where there was a turret on one side, the next turret the subject would run past was several feet to its left, and in the other row. Dean could feel her take a deep breath, rocking him back and forth gently. Like it or not, he was in this with her all the same.

In a mad dash, she shimmied down the hall, swaying left and right. With each movement, she fired the light beam on the side with the turret. She was practically timing each shot down to the millisecond, and somehow, managing. Elegantly, she pranced between the two rows, dodging dozens of bullets in the process.

She seemed so capable, that for a second, it really seemed like they would make it. The woman had the machine's number, outsmarting it at every turn. Dean's stomach felt light like butterflies, watching her twirl between bullets, and doing it so effortlessly. She was so... determined.

But then, Dean noticed something before she did - he noticed a major 'flaw' in the test. Near the end of the hall, between the second to last row, two turrets did in fact intersect. There was no way around it.

He tried to warn her. Dean grabbed at the sleeve wrapped around him, desperately trying to get her attention. He couldn't. Perhaps he was undetectable, but more likely, she was singularly focused on this one thing. Getting through this hall meant everything to her, and in this moment, he might as well not have existed. Dean lashed and lashed away at the jumpsuit, but he could not get her to acknowledge him. He was closer to her, literally, than he'd been to anyone in a long time. He still felt alone.

"Target acquired," the turret squeaked. Her eyes widened like the turret sensors, as bullets ripped into her skin. Almost immediately, she went down in a heap, the portal gun flipping through the air and mistakenly firing at the ceiling. Eyes shut, she folded onto the floor like a blanket, Dean hanging from the jumpsuit sleeve just beside her chest.

They killed her. Those turrets - this giant machine: It had just killed this woman. Once upon a time, Dean had been guided through this facility so they could put him down. Now, instead, the facility was programmed to do the killing itself. It was a muddying feeling - that everything around him was the result of someone who had told the facility to do it however long ago.

However far back in the past, someone was reaching into the future to kill Dean's sole hope of getting out of this place. It wasn't the same facility Dean had entered. He didn't know how, but someway somehow, everything had changed. The facility was in control, and infinitely self-sustaining. 

He hung down from her waist, and as far as Dean was concerned, it might as well have been from a rope to die on. He hardly knew this woman, and yet, her death made the entire situation hopeless. She was crafty enough to come up with that idea in a matter of seconds, and athletic enough to guide herself through the hall. If she couldn't get out of here, what hope did he have? But emotionally, it hit a lot harder. 

This woman must have understood his situation from the beginning, and however unorthodox, she was just trying to help him. The only person to show an ounce of kindness to Dean in this facility had just been mercilessly gunned down.

Dean fell into anger. He was tied to Cave Johnson again in the hospital room, unable to move. Arrogant faces chuckled, pitying him but leaving him there all the same. His father, his mother, his teachers... the prison psychologist! They were all just staring at him with contempt, watching him wither away like grass in the winter. Dean was helpless. Stronger wills from the past were long gone, but they stuck around to strangle him in the future. He couldn't do a thing about it.

Unwittingly, his anger had become focused - focused on everything in front of him. Everything seemed to be against him, and that's what Dean saw. The anger concentrated, and spread around his body, up into his little arms and legs. And suddenly, the little ring on his finger lit up.

He remembered what had happened in the blood room. There was only one way... he grabbed the ring with all his might, wrapping as many of his fingers that could fit around it as possible. With all of his strength and every ounce of his will, he tried to shift it to the glowing orange side. The woman had turned it around effortlessly, but with all of his strength, he couldn't move the dial a bit.

The anger turned into bitter rage - the rage that swallowed him when he had shattered the hospital room with his little tantrum. It made him hateful, but deep down, it comforted him. For a split second, it felt as if he didn't have to be this way.

It took both arms and ten fingers, but at long last, Dean moved the dial all the way to the orange side. Sweat pouring out of his skin, he could only think of the word he had screeched last time around:

"NOOOOOOOO!"

With that, the railings shattered. Bits of glass bounced off the ground, breaking into tinier and tinier pieces. They didn't just break - they bounced back and forth off the wall, raining around Dean like sharp hail. A little piece chipped off his elbow, breaking skin. Little drops of blood flushed out. He wanted to scream but... he felt something he didn't expect.

A chorus of 'Target acquired' and other squeaks echoed around the hall. The turrets opened fire on each other, falling onto the floor in seizures one-by-one. After half a minute or so, all was quiet. 

Dean picked up the little piece of glass that seemed to fit perfectly into his palm. He touched it to the drip on his elbow. It felt... good. He skimmed the sharpest edgealong his wound, and pulled it back. It was euphoric... almost calming.

"What is going on in here?" The robot had returned, a spotlight shining on Dean. "You? You! How could you possibly be al-"

A hand flattened itself over Dean's body, grabbing on, and holding firm. She clutched  him back to the waist of her jumpsuit, untying him. She cupped him in her palm, and from a face that looked half-dead, gazed upon him, her eyes sparkling.

"You monster!" The machine screeched. "Where did you find him? I urge you to put it down, back where you found him. You are meddling with things you do not understand!"

She stumbled to her feet, the characteristic determination returning to her expression. The door was closing, but it was only a few feet away...

"Don't do it! Don't you go through that door!"

She must've been exhausted, but somehow, she found the strength to make the hop. Headfirst, she catapulted through the doorway, landing painfully on her chest for a second time. Dean sat there, safe in her closed hand, his head buried in his knees. The door closing behind them, he floated his finger over the glass edge tucked away into his cloak.