trans_9 | A Most Sinister SCIENCE [Closed]

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A Most Sinister SCIENCE [Closed]

The downside of gathering long term supplies for the crew, was that Lex did have to make sure they were all brought on board and stowed away properly. It cut into his vacation time, but it was a small price to pay to get some business done, and make a few connections that he'll be able to call on later. Besides, with 99% of the crew off the ship, for once, it allowed him freedom to do a few things, like have a word with a certain AI that wasn't Stacy.

Sitting at one of the terminals in Neuropathy, Lex navigated his way through part of the AI multiplex, until he came across the one he wanted to speak to.

"Hello, GLaDOS. I need to have a word with you."

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There is silence for a moment. Then, one of the screens near Lex flickers to life with a simple, smiling blue face.

||Hell^o!|| chirps the distinctive, broken voice of GLaDOS.

Lex smiled pleasantly at the screen.

"I've been looking forward to talking to you for a while now." Because an AI that can make any member of this crew disappear and keep everyone else from even realizing that said member is gone? That is definitely one he wanted to get to know.

"I've been admiring the research you've been doing on the crew, and I was wondering if you could help me out with something.

"I need you to run a test."

GLaDOS hasn't heard from anyone sensible and appreciative of her work in a very long time.

This gets her attention.

||Of course. We of the Transmigration 9 seek to ^track the finest _data possible through our tests. What manner of test shall I run?||

Lex had grin at that.

"A stress test, on a particular member of the crew: Steve Burnside. It's very important that we find out how much stress is too much for him."

The AI pauses, to check a few conditions and ensure they are met.

||A test of the stress capacity of crewman ^{Steve Burnside} is possible at this ti-ime. Whe-ere shall _the test ^be run?||

"Excellent." This would be fun.

"The sensoriums would be a good location, it'll be easy to create a variety of stressful conditions there." He could also safely observe from Neuropathy and record everything.

||Subject is not present in ^requested location|| GLaDOS reports.

She's resourceful, though.

GLaDOS is a broken, but sly construct. It takes her only moments to dig through Stacy's accessible files for one in particular.

The voice of the Warden personality rings out in its typical, pre-recorded fashion.

||Steve Burnside. Please report to the Sensoriums.||

Steve was only on ship at the moment because he was scheduled to receive his treatment in the medical bay once a week. Exactly on schedule. No matter what. Otherwise there'd be no way you could get him back on this stupid thing when there was a real planet out there to exist on.

Still, he'd been late to report to medical and now the stern voice yelling his name across the ship was doing nothing to reassure him it wasn't a big deal. One hand fiddling with the thin, membrane-like bandage over his arm, he opened the sensorium door and stepped into the darkened chamber.

"Yeah?" he called to... whoever had summoned him. "It's, uh... it's Steve. Who is it?"

The room has been set to replicate one of the sterile, white walled test chambers GLaDOS is so very fond of.

She fails to answer the question, but her voice does the job for her. It's pretty distinctive.

||Hello crewman ^{Steve Burnsi-ide.} Welcome to your non-routine stress capacity _test. Please proceed to the ^opposite end of the chamber to begin your non-routine stress capacity _test.||

It's a simple room, with a doorway to one end. There is an elevator. There's no indication of where it might lead.

He definitely recognizes that voice. It was the same voice that egged him on a few months back with a piece of mistletoe and an invisible wall. Steve immediately bristles with annoyance-- and something rings as not right in what she just said.

"What? What the hell is this?" he asks, turning around and reaching for the door-- which is now gone. "I can't do a stress test!"

Hell no, he has no intention of going to that elevator.

"In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm definitely not allowed to do a stress test," he announces, backing against the wall.

GLaDOS replies, pleasant as pie. ~~Or perhaps cake.~~

||Permission is already granted. Please proceed to the elevator to ^begin the test.||

Come on Steve, don't make the nice AI beg!

"Who granted permission?" Steve demands, still sticking to the wall like he was glued there. "Dr. McNinja? I can't do this kind of stuff, okay? Open the door!"

||Please proceed to the elevator!|| GLaDOS instructs again. She's pretty insistent, considering that the floor has just turned into a conveyor belt heading toward it. GLaDOS has been enjoying the freedom offered by non-physical test chambers. They let her change things up.

||If you complete your test there _will be a party with all of your friends|| she coaxes as the floor increases in speed. ||There _will be a party with cake.||

Steve buys this about as much as he buys the average assurance from someone who isn't one of his close friends-- not at all. And he manages to keep pace with the conveyor belt for a few moments until it starts to speed up, when he gets nervous and trips and starts skidding towards the elevator. The doors close before he can scramble out of them.

"Who the hell granted permission for this?" he yells again. Sure doesn't take much to stress him out, does it?

||Permission is granted! This is a non-routine stress capacity _test.|| Thank you, GLaDOS. That clears up a lot.

The elevator slows and comes to a gentle halt, hissing softly as it opens.

It's another, relatively long hallway. With no sign of anything dangerous at all in it.

||Please proce-ed to the elevator at the ^other side of the chamber to continue your test.||

Should be a walk in the park!

"How long is this?" he asks. "I can't do this right now, I have to get back down."

He hesitates for a long moment before he stands up and very carefully takes a few steps into the next room.

CLANG CRANK CLANG CLANG CRANK CLANG

Uhoh. That? That machinery-moving-around-to-do-something sound? Probably not the best sound to be hearing right now. Something unfriendly is coiling to spring.

||You have to complete your test!||

Okay. Okay. Steve freezes in place. Then he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out very slowly.

"I'm gonna make it," he says under his breath.

What was the worst that could happen?

hwwwnnn-FZZK!

A bolt of energy shoots out of the wall to Steve's right and a little behind him, aiming just where he was standing when he first exited the elevator.

hwwwnnn-FZZK!

A second fires. Level with where his head was when he took the first step.

A red dot has appeared on his right side, at about rib level.

hwwwnnn-

"Holy-"

It occurs to Steve that he had never been hurt in the sensorium before, so he wasn't sure if it could actually do any damage. He's not willing to test that theory right now.

He throws himself forward as fast as he can and does a graceless half-roll on the ground, barely missing the bolt as it zaps across the room.

"-SHIT!"

Another dot appears on his left side and he scrambles to his feet, inches ahead of a whole line of lasers as he runs to the elevator, tripping just inside the door and hitting the opposite wall.

"What the hell kind of test is this?"

The elevator closes, the FZZK!'s of a mess of lasers still audible through the nice, secure doors.

||Well do-one!||

Steve gets a few seconds of peace as the elevator moves. It's hard to say whether it's rising or descending, though.

||Your _{stress capacity test} will continue in thre-ee, two-o, o-one-||

The doors open up again. Another room, this time sloped with tiling stairs. The elevator isn't visible, due to the slope. It's probably past the top though, somewhere.

Like the first room, there is no immediate sign of danger.

Okay. A computer's got him stuck in the sensoriums and is making him run guinea pig tests that could possibly kill him. Virtually. Maybe. For the moment, Steve manages to push away the voice screaming at him about how bad this is, replacing it with a combination of righteous anger and adolescent machismo.

Gritting his teeth, he rushes out of the elevator door and tackles the stairs, running up as fast as he can.

It's a good thing, too, because the stairs don't want to cooperate. He's about a third of the way up when they start to collapse under him, tilting to be more sliding board than staircase, though if they manage to flatten fully the gaps between the stairs are deep and wide enough to grab onto and climb.

That's not the worst of it. There's also the sound of rushing water behind him.

Not just any water, though. Test chamber water is gushing into the room and the water level's already rising after him, nasty water with some unidentifiable scum drifting on the surface.

He trips on the stairs and narrowly avoids smacking his face against the ones above him. Steve clings hard to the first gap he can grab, just in time to feel his shoe take a dip in the water.

"God dammit!" He scrambles up the makeshift ladder as best he can, reminded quite sharply of high school gym class. At least he was decent at it.

The cuffs of his jeans get soaked in the water as he gets over the top, where the other side is turning from a smooth slide down into stairs with the elevator at the bottom.

"Like I need to be exposed to any more nasty chemicals," he mutters as he speeds down the stairs. His wet shoes slip on the bottom step and he crashes into the elevator with a heavy THUD.

Okay. This was getting old already.

The elevator doors close behind Steve, and GLaDOS's voice rings out again.

||We hope you enjoyed the hill climb exercise.||

||Your test will resume in thre-ee, two-o, o-one-||

Fsshh go the doors. New room. The hall Steve can see is very short with a sudden, ninety-degree left turn into the unknown.

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A Most Sinister SCIENCE [Closed]

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