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Entry tags:
NaNo post
Note: Word count based includes unfinished chapters and a second story I'm writing for NaNo that will not be posted here.
Half-Life: The Novel
By SageSaria
A NaNoWriMo Entry Inspired by the game by Valve Incorporated of the Same Name
Black Mesa Employment files
SUBJECT: Gordon Freeman,
Male, Age 27
EDUCATION: Ph.D., MIT Theoretical Physics
POSITION: Research Associate
ASSIGNMENT: Anomalous Materials Laboratory
CLEARANCE: Level 3
Administrative Sponsor: Classified
DISASTER RESPONSE PRIORITY: Discretionary
Chapter Zero: Inbound
Black Mesa Research Facility
Black Mesa, New Mexico
Gordon leaned against the front window of the empty tram car, staring idly out at the dark, grey tunnel that engulfed the train as it glided down its slow track. The steady rhythmic humming and clanking of the tram broke the silence, save for the automated voice over the loudspeaker. Gordon had heard the announcer a few too many times, practically memorizing her prerecorded bulletins and disclaimers in her irritatingly cheerful, yet somehow completely apathetic, voice.
"Good morning, and welcome to the Black Mesa transit system. This automated train is provided for the security and convenience of the Black Mesa Research Facility personnel."
Just inside the tunnel was the security entrance, on its own platform which the tram passed unceasingly. Typically the platform would be empty as the trams passed; security liked to be prompt with attendance and didn't want stragglers loitering outside the door. But today, there was a single guard standing on the platform, pounding on the metal door in frustrated desperation. The tightly sealed tram car kept Gordon from hearing any dialogue between the guard and the watchman on the other side of the door, but it seemed to be trouble with the card reader outside, and in the brief pass he noticed that the poor man locked outside was Barney Calhoun. All employees at Black Mesa were quick to become, at the very least, acquainted with the security team. But after a times getting lost and taking the wrong train, Gordon and Barney had grown to become familiar with each other and were now good friends. If he had just a few more seconds before passing, Gordon would have called to him to be sure everything was alright. But alas, Black Mesa waits for no one.
"The time is eight forty-seven A.M. Current topside temperature is ninety-three degrees with an estimated high of one hundred and five. The Black Mesa compound is maintained at a pleasant sixty-eight degrees at all times."
Gordon cringed at the time. It was getting late. If he hurried once he got to his sector he could probably make it on time, but he didn't like the idea of having to rush. He was a punctual man, and enjoyed being as early as possible to everything, and today he was especially hoping to come early, as he'd overheard quite a bit of excitement for today's work. Not that he was ever told everything about what they were doing. He couldn't help cursing Black Mesa for this tardiness; the tram was late due to some sort of power problem, at least according to the announcement as he had been waiting at the platform for over twenty minutes. While the facility's airtight security precautions did keep it relatively accident free, it did have detriments and inconveniences on the staff. At least this let him have a train all to himself for once; the crowds grated him a little sometimes. It wasn't that he minded being around people, but being crowded in a little car with dozens of other people wasn't exactly a fun social experience.
The tram passed through an open area, balancing on its single rail in midair looking over a series of tunnels, while below an empty tram passed over the black emptiness by another empty platform. To the far left was a footbridge, and behind that two office rooms highlighted with large glass windows. Gordon squinted to see what they might be doing over there, but could only make out the fuzzy details of two scientists in each room; one at an office table and another walking his way. Nothing else was clear beyond that. He needed to renew his prescription soon, he thought.
The tram now entered another tunnel, and Gordon resumed looking straight ahead, watching the dim red lights that glowed under the rails pass under the moving train.
"This train is inbound from level three dormitories to sector C test labs and control facilities. If your intended destination is a high security area beyond sector C, you will need to return to the central transit hub in area 9 and board a high security train."
They entered a construction block now. The room looked like a warehouse in design, with metal-plated walls red with rust, and a few rectangular windows provided sunlight, a coveted concept in Black Mesa. To the left a welding robot emitted blue sparks as it worked on some sort of metal casing, and around it two cranes transported heavy crates and metal piping over the railway gap. The tram slowed inexplicably, and Gordon focused on watching the robot instead of worrying that that would make him even later to work. Then suddenly the tram sped up again as it turned the corner into the next sector beyond another tunnel, causing him to brace himself against the cushioned seat behind him.
"If you have not yet submitted your identity to the retinal clearance system, you must report into the high security branch of the transit system."
The tram hugged the left wall of the next room, which was also vast and empty. The ceiling hung low, but it didn't obscure the view of the giant rocket set on a different set on tracks on the right. Gordon always felt nervous passing this chamber, and tried to keep his eyes averted, focusing instead on the scientist in the forklift driving just under the suspended rail. Of all the things that could kill him just from working in his own area, the added point of the most deadly weapon ever constructed sitting on his daily route was never a comforting thought. Nor was the fact that in the distance before the next turn, the peeling, rusty walls almost looked like they were spattered with blood; while he didn't think of himself as superstitious there was still a moment of unease when he passed that wall. Whatever may happen in this facility, Gordon thought, let's pray that that rocket never, ever needs to be launched.
"Due to the high toxicity of material routinely handled in the Black Mesa compound, no smoking, eating, or drinking are permitted within the Black Mesa transit system. Please keep your limbs inside the train at all times."
The tram reached what to a casual onlooker would think was a dead end, but as it approached the floor underneath slid open in an egg shape. The tram stopped just before the end of the rail that lead into the wall, and slowly the rail began its descent into the lower levels of Black Mesa. The red walls of the natural cave whirled past slowly as the tram rotated in its descent, landing gently on another set of tracks, where just ahead Gordon could see another faint beam of sunlight. He wished he could experience more of it on days like this; while the dormitory levels were above ground, he rarely was there in the daylight hours, forced to take the tedious ride down deeper and deeper into the earth, coming back well after dark. At least at MIT he could stare out the window in the afternoons when the class subject matter was too easy for him.
"Do not attempt to open the doors until the train has come to a complete halt at the station platform. In the event of an emergency, passengers are to remain seated and await further instruction. If it is necessary to exit the train, disabled personnel should be evacuated first."
Further and further they traveled into the caves, held structurally sound by wooden braces that crowned the red tunnels. Another corner was turned and the tram rode through a canyon, this time suspended in the air by an overhead rail. The car swung slightly as it passed the helicopter pad at the bottom of the canyon, where a chopper was getting ready to lift off now, the deafening percussion of the propellers shaking the tram even more as it lifted off the ground. Gordon hated this part of the ride too; he was never particularly fond of heights. At least not heights where he was hanging by what, to him, may as well have been a thread at a height that would kill him in an instant of he fell.
"Please, stay away from the electrified rails and proceed to an emergency station until assistance arrives."
The tunnel lead to a fenced-in passage, which opened its doors for the incoming tram. The car slowed as it approached the still-closed vault in the concrete room. At least we're finally getting closer, thought Gordon. The tram screeched to a stop, which Gordon had already braced himself against the window for. The vault doors opened, and an extension of the tram rail extended to connect, emitting a few sparks as it did so, and the tram continued, very slowly, as the vault doors clanged shut behind it.
"A reminder: That the Black Mesa Hazard Course decathlon will commence this evening at nineteen hundred hours in the Level three facility. The semi-finals for high security personnel will be announced in a separate secure broadcast transmission. Remember: more lives than yours may depend on your fitness."
The lights in the tunnel flickered on slowly, one at a time, flooding the pitch black maze with the cool fluorescence that shadowed in the vented grooves that lined the entire concrete tunnels now; this meant that they were finally close to the laboratories. The next set of vault doors opened without stopping the tram, and after a few more turns Gordon could see the sparking pistons that always caught his eye as the tram passed. He hadn't been told what the purpose of these pistons was, but he assumed they were either generators to power the facility, or some experiment that they thought he was too new to the company to be let in on yet.
"Do you have a friend of relative who would make a valuable addition to the Black Mesa team? Immediate openings are available in areas of materials handling and low-clearance security. Please contact Black Mesa personnel for further information. If you have an associate with a background in areas of theoretical physics, biotechnology, or other high-tech disciplines, please contact our civilian recruiting team. The Black Mesa facility is an equal opportunity employer."
With the number of people Black Mesa hired, it was almost amazing how few of them one would see on the way to the labs. Nearly all of the activity in the areas on the tram route were mechanical, including, as Gordon watched upon passing it in the next room, a walking robot often used for heavy lifting in this area. It marched by unceasingly as the tram passed, carrying a wooden crate. He had enough time to watch it go as the tram stopped yet again for a cargo truck passing by from a tunnel coming the other way. This was starting to get annoying for Gordon, as if he was hitting every single red light on the way to work. He drummed his fingers on the window as the truck passed. The tunnel doors slid shut, and the toll bars slowly clicked back into the downward position, the green lights signaling the okay for the next vault doors to open.
As the train slowed to approach another false dead end, signaling another descent, the announcer's voice, still as indifferent as a prerecorded message is wont to be, gave off a more sober and serious tone; it was a vital message she conveyed, as much as Gordon already knew it by heart.
"A reminder to all Black Mesa personnel: regular radiation and biohazard screenings are a requirement of continued employment in the Black Mesa Research Facility."
The lights in the tunnel passed upward like an elevator as the tram lowered itself to the next level, seeming to never cease moving as it came upon a slightly green-tinted chamber. Gordon knew exactly what that green glow was; he'd seen it everywhere in this facility. But it wasn't typically on this route that he saw spills of radioactive sludge.
"Missing a scheduled urinalysis or radiation checkup is grounds for immediate termination."
He didn't have long to think about the spill, though, as yet another obstacle got in the way of the tram; it came to a halt in front of another working robot that seemed to have lost its way. Gordon groaned and thumped his head once on the tram window. Sighing, he turned his head to stare idly at the tram that was stopped next to his. Two people stood staring out the window, one in a lab coat, but the other was a man Gordon had never seen before.
"If you feel you have been exposed to radioactive or other hazardous materials in the course of your duties, contact your radiation safety officer immediately. Work safe, work smart. Your future depends on it."
He couldn't help focusing his attention on the stranger, not even hearing the announcements anymore. He looked very professional in a blue business suit, a heavy-looking black case in hand. But it was the man's eyes that made Gordon's stomach suddenly feel heavy. The stranger in the other tram looked directly at Gordon, and while he couldn't quite make direct eye contact with the distance between them, somehow he sensed something unnatural and intimidating in his eyes. And he couldn't help but notice how the other occupant of the tram never seemed to look at him, as if he wasn't even there. The man adjusted his tie rigidly, never taking his eyes off of Gordon. Hairs on the back of Gordon's head started to erect and he had to tear his eyes away, quickly pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket in order to clean his thick, black glasses.
The tram had started moving again long before he had recomposed himself. He could already see the platform ahead, and started to re-pocket his handkerchief, instead fishing out his ID card.
"Now arriving at sector C test labs and control facilities."
He cast another wary glance behind him, though the man in the suit was already far behind him in the tram going the other way. He still wasn't sure what had caused him to feel nervous at the sight of that guy, but he hoped that whoever he was, he would never have to see him again. The tram slowed to a stop on the edge of the long catwalk that lead to the heavy blocked door; finally he was here. Gordon stood just a pace away from the door, watching the security guard approach slowly and authoritatively from his post by the door, giving the announcements just enough time to finish.
"Please stand back from the automated door, and wait for the security officer to verify your identity. Before exiting the train, be sure to check your area for personal belongings. Thank you, and have a very safe and productive day."
The guard stopped just in front of the locked tram door. Gordon muttered a quick "Good morning" to the guard as he held out his identity card to him.
"Mornin', mister Freeman," the guard replied in a pleasant, though not familiar, tone, "Looks like you're runnin' late."
Don't remind me, Gordon thought, placing the card back into the pocket of his lab coat. The guard bent down and started to punch in the tram pass key. Beep beep, beep beep.
The light on the exit sign pinged green and the tram door slid open. Gordon stepped out, shoes clanking against the metal catwalk. He and the guard walked in silence, himself a few paces behind, as per procedure. They reached the door, and he stood just in front, hands folded behind him, as he waited for the guard to enter the access.
The confirmation sound finally rang out, and moments later there was a whir of moving gears. The two heavy bars that blocked the blast proof door slid out of place noisily, and with a ca-chunk the doors opened into another hallway, this one unmanned, ending in another door. This one was also bolted, and didn't open until the one behind him closed just as noisily as it opened.
Half-Life: The Novel
By SageSaria
A NaNoWriMo Entry Inspired by the game by Valve Incorporated of the Same Name
Black Mesa Employment files
SUBJECT: Gordon Freeman,
Male, Age 27
EDUCATION: Ph.D., MIT Theoretical Physics
POSITION: Research Associate
ASSIGNMENT: Anomalous Materials Laboratory
CLEARANCE: Level 3
Administrative Sponsor: Classified
DISASTER RESPONSE PRIORITY: Discretionary
Chapter Zero: Inbound
Black Mesa Research Facility
Black Mesa, New Mexico
Gordon leaned against the front window of the empty tram car, staring idly out at the dark, grey tunnel that engulfed the train as it glided down its slow track. The steady rhythmic humming and clanking of the tram broke the silence, save for the automated voice over the loudspeaker. Gordon had heard the announcer a few too many times, practically memorizing her prerecorded bulletins and disclaimers in her irritatingly cheerful, yet somehow completely apathetic, voice.
"Good morning, and welcome to the Black Mesa transit system. This automated train is provided for the security and convenience of the Black Mesa Research Facility personnel."
Just inside the tunnel was the security entrance, on its own platform which the tram passed unceasingly. Typically the platform would be empty as the trams passed; security liked to be prompt with attendance and didn't want stragglers loitering outside the door. But today, there was a single guard standing on the platform, pounding on the metal door in frustrated desperation. The tightly sealed tram car kept Gordon from hearing any dialogue between the guard and the watchman on the other side of the door, but it seemed to be trouble with the card reader outside, and in the brief pass he noticed that the poor man locked outside was Barney Calhoun. All employees at Black Mesa were quick to become, at the very least, acquainted with the security team. But after a times getting lost and taking the wrong train, Gordon and Barney had grown to become familiar with each other and were now good friends. If he had just a few more seconds before passing, Gordon would have called to him to be sure everything was alright. But alas, Black Mesa waits for no one.
"The time is eight forty-seven A.M. Current topside temperature is ninety-three degrees with an estimated high of one hundred and five. The Black Mesa compound is maintained at a pleasant sixty-eight degrees at all times."
Gordon cringed at the time. It was getting late. If he hurried once he got to his sector he could probably make it on time, but he didn't like the idea of having to rush. He was a punctual man, and enjoyed being as early as possible to everything, and today he was especially hoping to come early, as he'd overheard quite a bit of excitement for today's work. Not that he was ever told everything about what they were doing. He couldn't help cursing Black Mesa for this tardiness; the tram was late due to some sort of power problem, at least according to the announcement as he had been waiting at the platform for over twenty minutes. While the facility's airtight security precautions did keep it relatively accident free, it did have detriments and inconveniences on the staff. At least this let him have a train all to himself for once; the crowds grated him a little sometimes. It wasn't that he minded being around people, but being crowded in a little car with dozens of other people wasn't exactly a fun social experience.
The tram passed through an open area, balancing on its single rail in midair looking over a series of tunnels, while below an empty tram passed over the black emptiness by another empty platform. To the far left was a footbridge, and behind that two office rooms highlighted with large glass windows. Gordon squinted to see what they might be doing over there, but could only make out the fuzzy details of two scientists in each room; one at an office table and another walking his way. Nothing else was clear beyond that. He needed to renew his prescription soon, he thought.
The tram now entered another tunnel, and Gordon resumed looking straight ahead, watching the dim red lights that glowed under the rails pass under the moving train.
"This train is inbound from level three dormitories to sector C test labs and control facilities. If your intended destination is a high security area beyond sector C, you will need to return to the central transit hub in area 9 and board a high security train."
They entered a construction block now. The room looked like a warehouse in design, with metal-plated walls red with rust, and a few rectangular windows provided sunlight, a coveted concept in Black Mesa. To the left a welding robot emitted blue sparks as it worked on some sort of metal casing, and around it two cranes transported heavy crates and metal piping over the railway gap. The tram slowed inexplicably, and Gordon focused on watching the robot instead of worrying that that would make him even later to work. Then suddenly the tram sped up again as it turned the corner into the next sector beyond another tunnel, causing him to brace himself against the cushioned seat behind him.
"If you have not yet submitted your identity to the retinal clearance system, you must report into the high security branch of the transit system."
The tram hugged the left wall of the next room, which was also vast and empty. The ceiling hung low, but it didn't obscure the view of the giant rocket set on a different set on tracks on the right. Gordon always felt nervous passing this chamber, and tried to keep his eyes averted, focusing instead on the scientist in the forklift driving just under the suspended rail. Of all the things that could kill him just from working in his own area, the added point of the most deadly weapon ever constructed sitting on his daily route was never a comforting thought. Nor was the fact that in the distance before the next turn, the peeling, rusty walls almost looked like they were spattered with blood; while he didn't think of himself as superstitious there was still a moment of unease when he passed that wall. Whatever may happen in this facility, Gordon thought, let's pray that that rocket never, ever needs to be launched.
"Due to the high toxicity of material routinely handled in the Black Mesa compound, no smoking, eating, or drinking are permitted within the Black Mesa transit system. Please keep your limbs inside the train at all times."
The tram reached what to a casual onlooker would think was a dead end, but as it approached the floor underneath slid open in an egg shape. The tram stopped just before the end of the rail that lead into the wall, and slowly the rail began its descent into the lower levels of Black Mesa. The red walls of the natural cave whirled past slowly as the tram rotated in its descent, landing gently on another set of tracks, where just ahead Gordon could see another faint beam of sunlight. He wished he could experience more of it on days like this; while the dormitory levels were above ground, he rarely was there in the daylight hours, forced to take the tedious ride down deeper and deeper into the earth, coming back well after dark. At least at MIT he could stare out the window in the afternoons when the class subject matter was too easy for him.
"Do not attempt to open the doors until the train has come to a complete halt at the station platform. In the event of an emergency, passengers are to remain seated and await further instruction. If it is necessary to exit the train, disabled personnel should be evacuated first."
Further and further they traveled into the caves, held structurally sound by wooden braces that crowned the red tunnels. Another corner was turned and the tram rode through a canyon, this time suspended in the air by an overhead rail. The car swung slightly as it passed the helicopter pad at the bottom of the canyon, where a chopper was getting ready to lift off now, the deafening percussion of the propellers shaking the tram even more as it lifted off the ground. Gordon hated this part of the ride too; he was never particularly fond of heights. At least not heights where he was hanging by what, to him, may as well have been a thread at a height that would kill him in an instant of he fell.
"Please, stay away from the electrified rails and proceed to an emergency station until assistance arrives."
The tunnel lead to a fenced-in passage, which opened its doors for the incoming tram. The car slowed as it approached the still-closed vault in the concrete room. At least we're finally getting closer, thought Gordon. The tram screeched to a stop, which Gordon had already braced himself against the window for. The vault doors opened, and an extension of the tram rail extended to connect, emitting a few sparks as it did so, and the tram continued, very slowly, as the vault doors clanged shut behind it.
"A reminder: That the Black Mesa Hazard Course decathlon will commence this evening at nineteen hundred hours in the Level three facility. The semi-finals for high security personnel will be announced in a separate secure broadcast transmission. Remember: more lives than yours may depend on your fitness."
The lights in the tunnel flickered on slowly, one at a time, flooding the pitch black maze with the cool fluorescence that shadowed in the vented grooves that lined the entire concrete tunnels now; this meant that they were finally close to the laboratories. The next set of vault doors opened without stopping the tram, and after a few more turns Gordon could see the sparking pistons that always caught his eye as the tram passed. He hadn't been told what the purpose of these pistons was, but he assumed they were either generators to power the facility, or some experiment that they thought he was too new to the company to be let in on yet.
"Do you have a friend of relative who would make a valuable addition to the Black Mesa team? Immediate openings are available in areas of materials handling and low-clearance security. Please contact Black Mesa personnel for further information. If you have an associate with a background in areas of theoretical physics, biotechnology, or other high-tech disciplines, please contact our civilian recruiting team. The Black Mesa facility is an equal opportunity employer."
With the number of people Black Mesa hired, it was almost amazing how few of them one would see on the way to the labs. Nearly all of the activity in the areas on the tram route were mechanical, including, as Gordon watched upon passing it in the next room, a walking robot often used for heavy lifting in this area. It marched by unceasingly as the tram passed, carrying a wooden crate. He had enough time to watch it go as the tram stopped yet again for a cargo truck passing by from a tunnel coming the other way. This was starting to get annoying for Gordon, as if he was hitting every single red light on the way to work. He drummed his fingers on the window as the truck passed. The tunnel doors slid shut, and the toll bars slowly clicked back into the downward position, the green lights signaling the okay for the next vault doors to open.
As the train slowed to approach another false dead end, signaling another descent, the announcer's voice, still as indifferent as a prerecorded message is wont to be, gave off a more sober and serious tone; it was a vital message she conveyed, as much as Gordon already knew it by heart.
"A reminder to all Black Mesa personnel: regular radiation and biohazard screenings are a requirement of continued employment in the Black Mesa Research Facility."
The lights in the tunnel passed upward like an elevator as the tram lowered itself to the next level, seeming to never cease moving as it came upon a slightly green-tinted chamber. Gordon knew exactly what that green glow was; he'd seen it everywhere in this facility. But it wasn't typically on this route that he saw spills of radioactive sludge.
"Missing a scheduled urinalysis or radiation checkup is grounds for immediate termination."
He didn't have long to think about the spill, though, as yet another obstacle got in the way of the tram; it came to a halt in front of another working robot that seemed to have lost its way. Gordon groaned and thumped his head once on the tram window. Sighing, he turned his head to stare idly at the tram that was stopped next to his. Two people stood staring out the window, one in a lab coat, but the other was a man Gordon had never seen before.
"If you feel you have been exposed to radioactive or other hazardous materials in the course of your duties, contact your radiation safety officer immediately. Work safe, work smart. Your future depends on it."
He couldn't help focusing his attention on the stranger, not even hearing the announcements anymore. He looked very professional in a blue business suit, a heavy-looking black case in hand. But it was the man's eyes that made Gordon's stomach suddenly feel heavy. The stranger in the other tram looked directly at Gordon, and while he couldn't quite make direct eye contact with the distance between them, somehow he sensed something unnatural and intimidating in his eyes. And he couldn't help but notice how the other occupant of the tram never seemed to look at him, as if he wasn't even there. The man adjusted his tie rigidly, never taking his eyes off of Gordon. Hairs on the back of Gordon's head started to erect and he had to tear his eyes away, quickly pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket in order to clean his thick, black glasses.
The tram had started moving again long before he had recomposed himself. He could already see the platform ahead, and started to re-pocket his handkerchief, instead fishing out his ID card.
"Now arriving at sector C test labs and control facilities."
He cast another wary glance behind him, though the man in the suit was already far behind him in the tram going the other way. He still wasn't sure what had caused him to feel nervous at the sight of that guy, but he hoped that whoever he was, he would never have to see him again. The tram slowed to a stop on the edge of the long catwalk that lead to the heavy blocked door; finally he was here. Gordon stood just a pace away from the door, watching the security guard approach slowly and authoritatively from his post by the door, giving the announcements just enough time to finish.
"Please stand back from the automated door, and wait for the security officer to verify your identity. Before exiting the train, be sure to check your area for personal belongings. Thank you, and have a very safe and productive day."
The guard stopped just in front of the locked tram door. Gordon muttered a quick "Good morning" to the guard as he held out his identity card to him.
"Mornin', mister Freeman," the guard replied in a pleasant, though not familiar, tone, "Looks like you're runnin' late."
Don't remind me, Gordon thought, placing the card back into the pocket of his lab coat. The guard bent down and started to punch in the tram pass key. Beep beep, beep beep.
The light on the exit sign pinged green and the tram door slid open. Gordon stepped out, shoes clanking against the metal catwalk. He and the guard walked in silence, himself a few paces behind, as per procedure. They reached the door, and he stood just in front, hands folded behind him, as he waited for the guard to enter the access.
The confirmation sound finally rang out, and moments later there was a whir of moving gears. The two heavy bars that blocked the blast proof door slid out of place noisily, and with a ca-chunk the doors opened into another hallway, this one unmanned, ending in another door. This one was also bolted, and didn't open until the one behind him closed just as noisily as it opened.