Half-Life: The Novel - Chapter 1
Nov. 5th, 2010 07:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sagesariaChapter One: Anomalous Materials
The final doors between him and the main office opened, and at last, Gordon Freeman was standing at the front desk. Only a few people walked around the area, which would be more busy on days when Gordon actually made it on time. Already as he entered he could tell something was up; several of the computer screens that lined the side wall were bearing the most frustrating image ever created by man; the blue screen of death. This also qualified for the computer at the front desk, where one security guard sat frustrated typing, a scientist leaning over his shoulder attempting to help. Gordon approached, taking an idle glance at the world map behind the desk. He still wasn't certain what the purpose of the map was; it never had any indication of relevance to the facility, save for the Black Mesa logo that watermarked it.
Seeing him coming out of the corner of his eye, the guard looked up from the computer and greet him exasperatedly.
"Hey, Mr. Freeman. I had a bunch of messages for you, but we had a system crash about twenty minutes ago and I'm still trying to find my files." he sighed, "Just one of those days, I guess."
"Anything I can do to help?" asked Gordon, but the guard shook his head.
"Nah, I can handle it. They were having some problems down in the test chamber, too, but I think that's all straightened out. They told me to make sure you headed down there as soon as you got into your hazard suit."
"Alright. Good luck."
Leaving the guard, he could never remember all their names, to fight with the computer, he turned to go down the hall. Follow the green line, he always remembered; the sectors were color-coded and the pathway there indicated by a colored line on the wall. As he followed the guide, he thought about the adventure he'd had so far. He was right; it was turning out to be one of those days. First the trams, then the ID readers, then the computers...what was next? With this many things going wrong he couldn't help but worry something worse could happen in the test chamber. If his opinion mattered in the facility he could say something to his superiors, but the comparatively aged and more experienced scientists still only thought of him as "the new guy", even as he'd worked there a few months at least.
The hallways were empty and quiet, save for the occasional whirr or beep from the computers that lined a few walls. But as he reached the fork in the path he froze; an uneasy feeling washed over him, and as though on instinct he turned the opposite direction from the intended path to peer into the office district. In the first office, two people talked, their conversation, which was incredibly animated and angry, silenced by the glass. One of the two men he recognized as Eli Vance, a good friend of his, and one of the other people who worked in Anomalous Materials. But color drained from Gordon's face as he recognized one of them.
The man in the business suit.
Now that he had a better look at him he was even more creepy to behold. His face was aged and sunken in; he must have been in his fifties. Even now something seemed unnatural to Gordon, which only got worse when the man turned to look at him once again. Piercing green eyes gazed on him, and all of a sudden Gordon felt naked and shaken, as though the man in the suit was peering into his very soul.
"Gordon?"
Gordon may as well have jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice behind him. He whipped around, finding that it was only Barney Calhoun. He took a breath, running his hands through his hair as he attempted to calm his nerves.
"Are you alright man? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Y-yeah, yeah...I've just been feeling a little edgy lately." Gordon lied. Barney gave him a friendly thump on the shoulder, seeming to not know or care what was happening in the office.
"I think it's time to switch to decaf."
Gordon snerked at that. "Maybe you're right. So what happened to you today? At the security entrance?"
Barney groaned. "Damn scanner denied my access."
"Ouch. Seems like everything is going wrong today, huh?"
"Yeah. I hope it's not an omen or something." A pause, "So what about you? Got anything exciting planned?"
"Nah, just another typical day in the pit. Though they seemed pretty excited about it today."
"Bet you a beer you'll blow the place up."
"I'll hold you to it." Gordon said with a smirk. This was a common private joke between the two of them. Any excuse to go out for a quick drink was a good one, Barney always thought, and while not much of a drinker, Gordon didn't mind having a beer once in a while with friends. However, neither of them could have known the irony of this joke on this particular day.
Waving goodbye, Gordon continued his way down the hall, passing a few coworkers talking between themselves; apparently Dr. Birdwell had lost his coffee cup again. Gordon shook his head quietly at the clumsiness of his colleagues and continued down the hall. LED lights on the wall flickered in yellow and green, machines whirring and beeping in their work. One scientist greeting him politely as he passed; he didn't know the man's name, but they saw each other a lot in this hallway; he must have worked in the computer lab.
Turning the corner leading to the break room, past the reminder that Black Mesa was a no smoking area, Gordon decided to peek in; he could use a quick drink. Two scientists he didn't know were there, who regarded Gordon with familiarity, but indifference. He gave them both a polite nod and began fishing for a quarter in his pant pocket. Finding one, he quickly went to the vending machine, sliding the quarter in and punching out a cola with his closed fist.
As he cracked the can open and took a sip, he noticed a familiar smell in the room. A sort of meat-like smell, but one that was clearly not what it was meant to be. He recognized it and where it came from immediately; the microwave. Sure enough, as he peeked into the screened door of the appliance, there was a covered casserole dish spinning on the rotating plate. The common territory of Arne Magnusson. While Gordon had the honor of not knowing the man too personally, he and his colleagues were always annoyed when he monopolized the only working microwave in the break room for his smelly "easy-to-make" frozen casseroles that always seemed to take five times longer than it says on the box.
While the other two occupants in the room seemed to zone out in the drone of their coffee break, Gordon let a little smirk come to his face. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that they weren't looking his way, and down the hall to see that Doctor Magnusson himself wasn't about to come around the corner and catch him red-handed, then he went to work on an old trick he picked up in college for annoying roommates. While he himself had been victim of this himself when he first attempted it as a curious student, it quickly taught him the order to push those five buttons again to repeat the results.
The engines in the microwave started to work in overdrive, steam clouding the window, and Gordon quickly stepped out, continuing to head for the locker room. Within seconds, behind him he heard the startled shouting at the unmistakable snap of the window and splatter of the contents inside. He snickered mentally, trying not to show anything that would give him away to anybody who passed him, and hurried down the hall.
The locker room door slid open, greeting him with the brown and white walls of shut lockers that seemed to blend into the walls. That may have been the intent of the building's design, but it always seemed a little pointless to Gordon; nobody else came down here except Black Mesa workers. One other scientist had his foot propped up on one of the three black benches in the room, tying his shoelace. He didn't seem to notice Gordon come in. He didn't mind, and simply followed the wall of lockers to his own right next to the bathroom stalls, "Freeman" painted in the brown border that went across all the lockers. He entered the combination on the rotary lock with one hand as he started to slide out of his lab coat.
The lockers were mercifully large for what was typically contained in them; Gordon would often joke that he could hide comfortably in it if trouble struck, for indeed it was a walk-in locker. He stepped inside as he slid the coat off of his shoulders, still in his dress pants and red sweater. On the top shelf, in front of the bright wall lights, was his M.I.T. diploma, and to its left, a photograph of his niece. She was only a few hours old at the time the photo was taken, but that was two years ago. He made a mental note to call his brother next time he had the chance, and took a quick minute to push the stack of Marc Laidlaw books on the shelf below back into a straightened order. Then he hung the coat up on the hook at the bottom of the locker, where a blue poncho was hung as well. He never found a use for that poncho since he put it there, but who knew? Maybe his mother had the right idea and he wouldn't know it until something crazy happened like the sprinkler system going off. If the facility even had a sprinkler system.
He stepped out of the locker, closing it behind him and spinning the lock shut. Now it was time for the most tedious part of getting ready to work. He stepped into the wing to the left of the lockers, parallel to the bathrooms. Three storage units occupied the far wall of this room, and only the one in the middle had the only hazardous materials suit he needed in it; the other two were empty. Gordon didn't have to be told that the last suit was for him. He passed the control panel for the chambers, pressing the single brown button that opened the one he needed. The glass holding the suit slid open. Gordon descended the stairs, taking the few paces to the chamber, and stepping up to pull the bronze orange suit out of place and onto him
He wondered what time it was as he started to assemble the protective gear; this was always the worst part, getting the suit on. It seemed like it took forever and over time it got extremely itchy and uncomfortable throughout the day. The helmet that came with the suit seemed to be missing, too. He really hoped that that wouldn't be a problem when faced with the material he always handled in this job.
Finally the suit was finished, and now came another annoying voice nattering in his ear;
Ping... "Welcome to the H.E.V. mark IV protective system for use in
hazardous environment conditions."
Gordon just let it talk, only listening for if anything was wrong, while testing himself in the suit. It was always a little awkward at first, moving in the suit. It was REALLY awkward the first day; Gordon needed someone to walk him to the test chamber. But it all worked as it should; he could move everything just fine, right down to his fingertips.
"High-impact reactive armor, activated. Atmospheric contaminant sensors, activated. Automatic medical systems, engaged. Defensive weapon selection system, activated. Munitions level monitoring, activated. Communications interface, online. Have a very safe day."
Alright, everything was in order. Gordon went back up the stairs and out the locker room door. This was another test of his suit's ability; the speed. Once it was all up and running, he liked to test out the sprinting option; probably the fastest he ever ran in his life. He startled and almost crashed into a few people his first time doing this, but nowadays anybody he passed simply shook their heads and went about their business. Gordon didn't care; it was a good workout and a little bit of fun before heading to the tedious job in the pit.
He sprinted down the hall, the opposite direction into the blue zone, slowing down only when he was about to turn the corner to the airlock; he knew a security guard was waiting for him there and didn't want to get into any trouble. Catching his breath, he stepped nonchalantly around the corner, giving a nod of greeting to the guard.
"Ah, yes, go right on through, sir." said the guard, stepping over to the retinal scanner, "Looks like you're in the barrel today."
Knowing the origin of that phrase, Gordon couldn't help finding it somewhat appropriate. He waited at the airlock for the security man to clear him. The retinal scanner beeped rapidly, and the light in the airlock doorway turned green. With a click, the doors slid open, and in went Gordon.
The fork in the path behind the second airlock doors was merely aesthetic; both of them lead to the same place. Gordon always chose the right for reasons that weren't conscious, and strolled past the few assorted things that lined the walls, namely two posters; one for safety awareness, one with some attempt at looking patriotic. Just beyond, on the inner wall of the circle, was the elevator he had been looking for. The cubic elevator was already there when he pushed the button that opened the airlock doors leading in. He stepped in and pressed the button down, once again wondering how much time this was taking him. As the elevator descended the intercom chimed, and he looked up to listen.
"Doctor Johnson, please call Observation Tank 1."
He never liked the voice they chose for the PA; it sounded so unnatural and, well, creepy. In a way he suddenly now associated that voice with the man in the suit that seemed to keep following him around today, but he pushed that thought quickly, and gladly, aside as the elevator doors opened. It was still a bit of a way to go, so he sprinted again through the halls, brushing past a few coworkers with a quick apology as he kept running. Past the computers, past the laser tubes, very cautiously labeled, past the generator room, and finally to the first office he had to check in with. Dr. Isaac Kleiner, another scientist on the team, two others whose names he couldn't quite remember yet were waiting for him there. A fourth team member was on the computer behind them.
"Ah, Gordon! There you are!" Kleiner exclaimed, adjusting his glasses. Dr. Kleiner was Gordon's professor at M.I.T., and the one who got him the job at Black Mesa.
"Sorry I'm late," said Gordon, "the trams were having some problems."
"That's quite alright, Gordon. I know you well enough." He chuckled a little at that; even he remembered that Gordon never missed a single day of class in his college years.
"We just sent the sample down to the test chamber." he added. The second scientist continued.
"We boosted the anti-mass spectrometer to one hundred five percent. Bit of a gamble, but we need the extra resolution."
"The administrator is very concerned that we get a conclusive analysis of today's sample." the third scientist added, "I gather they went to some lengths to get it."
"They're waiting for you, Gordon," finished Dr. Kleiner, "In the test chamber."
It was a little spooky sometimes how they seemed to be able to continue each others' sentences like that. But then, they were a team for a long time. That's probably why they refused to even tell him half of the things they were doing in Anomalous Materials. Not even Dr. Kleiner said anything about it. Maybe he was contractually obligated or some such. Still, it was annoying that Gordon seemed to be given information on a "need to know" basis. Did they not trust him? Was he below them because he was new, or the youngest of them all?
Oh well, there was nothing much he could do about it now. One of the two unknown scientists, an aged black man, escorted Gordon to the locked door, preparing the retinal scanner. The machines beeped, and the door opened. Gordon stepped into the next room, where Eli and another team member were talking. As he passed, he could have taken the chance to ask him who the man in the suit was, and what they were arguing so passionately about. But as it was, he could barely say "Good morning" before the two scientists had to make a run for the nearby computer; one of the control panels had blasted open, startling Gordon on the way.
"It's about to go critical!" the second worker exclaimed as Eli fussed over the sparking machine.
"What the hell is going on with our equipment?!" he griped, giving the console a good kick.
"It wasn't meant to do this in the first place." his partner said sadly.
Clearly, now wasn't a good time to bother Eli. He'll have to ask him about it after work. As he stepped into the elevator, he winced at the unmistakable sound of another portion of the computer exploding, followed by a string of curses from Eli.
The elevator revolved as it went down to the next floor. This had startled Gordon the first time he rode it, almost getting knocked off-balance as it made him dizzy. But now he was quite used to it. The lights on the walls scrolled by as it turned, and within seconds the doors appeared, opening as the elevator stopped. Gordon strode quickly down the hall, past the big red sign painted on the wall; Test Lab. There were the computers on the walls, and there he turned right, down the hall through the last door, finally there. Inside the door was the room just outside the pit, sealed with the metal blast doors. The whole room was encased in metal, right down to the floor that clanked under his feet. He was greeted by the two scientists who were to operate the chamber's blast door, who didn't even bother to say hello, simply ready to get down to business.
"I'm afraid we'll be deviating a bit from the standard analysis procedures today, Gordon." said the first scientist, an uncertain tone peeking through in his voice.
"Yes, but with good reason." the second continued, "This is a rare opportunity for us; this is the purest sample we've seen yet."
"And, potentially, the most unstable."
"Now, now, if you follow standard insertion procedure, everything will be fine."
The first scientist looked annoyed. "I don't know how you can say that. Although I will admit that the possibility of a resonance cascade scenario is extremely unlikely--"
"Gordon doesn't need to hear all this," his partner cut him off, a little too quickly, "He's a highly trained professional. We've assured the administrator that nothing will go wrong."
Gordon didn't like the tone in his voice. The incredible optimism alone after everything in the facility was falling apart at the seams was unbelievable, but the way he said that almost seemed like they were refusing to see that potentially, yes, something could go wrong. It reminded him a bit too much of some books he read in high school which seemed to be all about brainwashing.
The first scientist sighed. "Ah...yes, you're right. Gordon, we have complete confidence in you."
"Well, go ahead. Let's let him in now."
The two scientists went to their posts on either side of the room; the test chamber was vital enough that there were two scanners posted, to further increase security. A moot point by now, Gordon always thought. Who the hell would even make it this far? The scanners beeped in unison, opening the blast doors with a whoosh.
And there she was. The Anti-Mass Spectrometer. Dr. Rosenburg's creation. The hulking machine that needed a whole room devoted to her. And with good reason, given the amount of electricity she took, and the amount of electromagnetism and plasma that engulfed her when she was operational. And she was certainly a hell of a sight when those doors were opened. Gordon always chose to tread carefully around the device; he knew very well what could happen if one weren't careful, even without the incredibly resonant material he ended up carting into it every day.
He knew the procedure step by step now. Climb up the ladder, turn on the rotors, wait for further instructions. As he grabbed the ladder to make the careful ascent to the computers that hung in the railing overhead, the microphone from the control room clicked on with a short shriek of feedback.
"Testing, testing," came one voice, who cleared his throat as he concluded, "Everything seems to be in order."
"Alright, Gordon, your suit should keep you comfortable through all this," came the second voice, "The specimen will be delivered to you in a few moments. If you would be so good as to climb up and start the rotors, we can bring the anti-mass spectrometer to eighty percent and hold it there until the carrier arrives."
Gordon was already on the upper railing now. The computer monitor for the rotor system looked fine at a glance; nothing glaringly wrong. First thing that seemed to be working right today. Slowly Gordon lifted the red casing over the power switch, clicking it on.
Slowly the machine came to life. The rotors in the upper chamber of the device groaned and hummed, turning slowly first, then picking up speed gradually until they were spinning at full speed with a constant, mechanical hum.
"Very good," praised one voice on the loudspeaker as the computer beeped, confirming the full operation of the rotors and Gordon clicked the cover shut again, "We'll take it from here."
As much as Gordon wished he could be in the control room himself, he took at least one joy from his work in the chamber; he got to see the spectacular light show that the Spectrometer gave up close and personal. He leaned lightly on the railing to watch from the terminal. The outside columns of the machine began to turn now. Sparks flew into the center point, just below the spinning rotors.
"Power to stage one emitters in three...two...one..."
Plasma glowed at the point, launching itself in a beam straight down into the pit the machine encompassed. The beam trembled like a candle flame, but never broke.
"I'm seeing predictable phase arrays. Stage two emitters...activating...now."
Electricity arced down into the pit from the columns, meeting the plasma beam at the bottom and rotating around it.
"Gordon, we cannot predict how long the system can operate at this level, nor how long the readings will take. Please, work as quickly as you can."
Gordon followed the rail back to the ladder, making his way back down to the ground floor. The specimen should arrive any second now. The intercom chatter continued as he climbed;
"Overhead capacitors to one-oh-five percent." a pause, then, "...Uh, it's probably not a problem...probably...but I'm showing a small discrepancy in--well, no, it's well within acceptable bounds again. Sustaining sequence."
That wasn't convincing. Gordon became more nervous now. Standing at the edge of the machine, on the short flight of stairs, he watched the delivery system a quarter of a circle from where he stood; a mesh gate intended to fence off the lift where the carrier brought up the specimens. The red light on the fence began to blink; something was coming up the elevator.
"I've just been informed that the sample is ready, Gordon. It should be coming to you any moment now. Look to the delivery system for your specimen."
The gates lowered as the platform arrived, carrying the cart used for insertion, and there was the matter that Gordon had seen so many times. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but he knew it was risky doing this all the time. The earlier mention of a possible resonance cascade wasn't good to hear, either. There was a lot of resonance in the material every time, potentially enough to, at worst, destroy the facility and kill them all, and at about as bad, create dimensional rifts. Sure, it sounded like a bad science fiction, but in theoretical physics, a lot of it sounded like that, and of all the things Gordon didn't believe in, that subject was a sure exception, and he was wary of this huge yellow crystal the cart carried. The purest sample yet, they called it, and indeed it could turn out to be the most unstable.
"Standard procedure for a non-standard specimen," the voice on the intercom nagged, "Go ahead, Gordon, schlop the carrier into the analysis port."
Yeah, yeah, no pressure. Well, here goes. He gripped the handles of the cart, pushing it slowly, carefully, down the track. It scraped along the metal floor, dragging itself. The cart shook in his hands as it approached the Spectrometer. With a breath and one last push, the crystal made contact with the beam.
Immediately he jumped back at the loud SNAP! sound that resulted in the contact. That wasn't supposed to happen. Nor was the "oh dear!" exclaimed over the loudspeaker. Or the unearthly green glow that emanated where the crystal touched the beams.
"Gordon! Get away from the beam!"
He was already sprinting toward the blast doors. Behind him the Spectrometer whirred and buzzed, rotors spinning out of control. The lights flickered on and off from the exertion of the machine, the floor began to shake violently, and behind him he could hear the blasts from key points of the machine blowing apart. Gordon threw himself at the door, praying that they were still outside and could get him out before the power went out completely, as it was inevitably going to.
"Shutting down! No, attempted shutdown!" the scientists in the booth desperately recited, "It's not, i-it's not-it's not shutting down! It's not, it's not--AAAAAAAARRRGH!!" Green sparks flew just past Gordon's head as the scream resonated over the intercom; the control room's window had been shot through, electrocuting the team inside.
Shit! Shit! Shit! A confusion of sound echoed through the test chamber; the screaming rotor engines, sparks arcing against the walls, explosions, and if he was listening hard enough in his panic he would hear something garbled and unusual, like a strange unearthly tongue. The room was shot into darkness save for the red emergency lights and the light from the Spectrometer's electrical output. FUCK! Mind racing, Gordon began to kick the blast doors, slamming the heel of his hazmat suit into the wall with a metallic bang that added to the chaos.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Finally the floor gave another lurch and threw Gordon to the floor. Looking behind him he could see the small, controlled explosions engulfing the Spectrometer, the radioactive glow, and some sort of sparkling white lights before a bolt of green electricity shot him between the eyes and he saw nothing. The thunder-like sound lingered and slowly faded.
Silence engulfed him, save for the rapid, steady beat of his heart and his raspy breath. He heard nothing else, and saw nothing but black before him. His whole body felt numb, he couldn't move. His heart and breath sped up, another sound rose around him, a sort of static sound like wind in a microphone. It got louder, louder, sounding more like the thunder he heard before playing backwards, then suddenly with a green flash his senses sprung back to life, assaulting him with the crumbling test chamber again. This time two new sounds were added to the symphony of destruction; the facility alarm, and the sharp shattering sound of glass; the ceiling was beginning to fall down.
He barely dodged a large chunk of falling concrete when he was hit with another flash of green. He stumbled back, seeing through the green electricity that surrounded him a strange geography that he had never seen before. Staring in disbelief, he looked around the purple haze of the world beyond the light. Two creatures stood in the water that came up to Gordon's ankles; at first he thought they were crocodiles, but their faces seemed mangled, made up of tentacles instead of a long snout. Their tentacles sloshed through the water, seeming to be drinking, and they didn't seem to notice the intruder on their territory at all.
Another flash. Gordon blinked his eyes, and when he opened them again he was now in a spotlight of green light. Here he was not alone either; five creatures his height stood around him, staring at him with single red eyes. The bipedal creatures, built almost like human hunchbacks, muttered amongst themselves, their words unknown and warbling; the same language he had heard in the pit. Gordon's heart sank into the pit of his stomach, finding himself unable to back out of the pool of light. He was right; they had created a portal to another dimension. But what dimension was this? he thought. Who were these beasts? And was there any way to get back?
These thoughts followed him into a fading darkness as a crackling sound lingered in his ears.
The final doors between him and the main office opened, and at last, Gordon Freeman was standing at the front desk. Only a few people walked around the area, which would be more busy on days when Gordon actually made it on time. Already as he entered he could tell something was up; several of the computer screens that lined the side wall were bearing the most frustrating image ever created by man; the blue screen of death. This also qualified for the computer at the front desk, where one security guard sat frustrated typing, a scientist leaning over his shoulder attempting to help. Gordon approached, taking an idle glance at the world map behind the desk. He still wasn't certain what the purpose of the map was; it never had any indication of relevance to the facility, save for the Black Mesa logo that watermarked it.
Seeing him coming out of the corner of his eye, the guard looked up from the computer and greet him exasperatedly.
"Hey, Mr. Freeman. I had a bunch of messages for you, but we had a system crash about twenty minutes ago and I'm still trying to find my files." he sighed, "Just one of those days, I guess."
"Anything I can do to help?" asked Gordon, but the guard shook his head.
"Nah, I can handle it. They were having some problems down in the test chamber, too, but I think that's all straightened out. They told me to make sure you headed down there as soon as you got into your hazard suit."
"Alright. Good luck."
Leaving the guard, he could never remember all their names, to fight with the computer, he turned to go down the hall. Follow the green line, he always remembered; the sectors were color-coded and the pathway there indicated by a colored line on the wall. As he followed the guide, he thought about the adventure he'd had so far. He was right; it was turning out to be one of those days. First the trams, then the ID readers, then the computers...what was next? With this many things going wrong he couldn't help but worry something worse could happen in the test chamber. If his opinion mattered in the facility he could say something to his superiors, but the comparatively aged and more experienced scientists still only thought of him as "the new guy", even as he'd worked there a few months at least.
The hallways were empty and quiet, save for the occasional whirr or beep from the computers that lined a few walls. But as he reached the fork in the path he froze; an uneasy feeling washed over him, and as though on instinct he turned the opposite direction from the intended path to peer into the office district. In the first office, two people talked, their conversation, which was incredibly animated and angry, silenced by the glass. One of the two men he recognized as Eli Vance, a good friend of his, and one of the other people who worked in Anomalous Materials. But color drained from Gordon's face as he recognized one of them.
The man in the business suit.
Now that he had a better look at him he was even more creepy to behold. His face was aged and sunken in; he must have been in his fifties. Even now something seemed unnatural to Gordon, which only got worse when the man turned to look at him once again. Piercing green eyes gazed on him, and all of a sudden Gordon felt naked and shaken, as though the man in the suit was peering into his very soul.
"Gordon?"
Gordon may as well have jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice behind him. He whipped around, finding that it was only Barney Calhoun. He took a breath, running his hands through his hair as he attempted to calm his nerves.
"Are you alright man? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Y-yeah, yeah...I've just been feeling a little edgy lately." Gordon lied. Barney gave him a friendly thump on the shoulder, seeming to not know or care what was happening in the office.
"I think it's time to switch to decaf."
Gordon snerked at that. "Maybe you're right. So what happened to you today? At the security entrance?"
Barney groaned. "Damn scanner denied my access."
"Ouch. Seems like everything is going wrong today, huh?"
"Yeah. I hope it's not an omen or something." A pause, "So what about you? Got anything exciting planned?"
"Nah, just another typical day in the pit. Though they seemed pretty excited about it today."
"Bet you a beer you'll blow the place up."
"I'll hold you to it." Gordon said with a smirk. This was a common private joke between the two of them. Any excuse to go out for a quick drink was a good one, Barney always thought, and while not much of a drinker, Gordon didn't mind having a beer once in a while with friends. However, neither of them could have known the irony of this joke on this particular day.
Waving goodbye, Gordon continued his way down the hall, passing a few coworkers talking between themselves; apparently Dr. Birdwell had lost his coffee cup again. Gordon shook his head quietly at the clumsiness of his colleagues and continued down the hall. LED lights on the wall flickered in yellow and green, machines whirring and beeping in their work. One scientist greeting him politely as he passed; he didn't know the man's name, but they saw each other a lot in this hallway; he must have worked in the computer lab.
Turning the corner leading to the break room, past the reminder that Black Mesa was a no smoking area, Gordon decided to peek in; he could use a quick drink. Two scientists he didn't know were there, who regarded Gordon with familiarity, but indifference. He gave them both a polite nod and began fishing for a quarter in his pant pocket. Finding one, he quickly went to the vending machine, sliding the quarter in and punching out a cola with his closed fist.
As he cracked the can open and took a sip, he noticed a familiar smell in the room. A sort of meat-like smell, but one that was clearly not what it was meant to be. He recognized it and where it came from immediately; the microwave. Sure enough, as he peeked into the screened door of the appliance, there was a covered casserole dish spinning on the rotating plate. The common territory of Arne Magnusson. While Gordon had the honor of not knowing the man too personally, he and his colleagues were always annoyed when he monopolized the only working microwave in the break room for his smelly "easy-to-make" frozen casseroles that always seemed to take five times longer than it says on the box.
While the other two occupants in the room seemed to zone out in the drone of their coffee break, Gordon let a little smirk come to his face. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that they weren't looking his way, and down the hall to see that Doctor Magnusson himself wasn't about to come around the corner and catch him red-handed, then he went to work on an old trick he picked up in college for annoying roommates. While he himself had been victim of this himself when he first attempted it as a curious student, it quickly taught him the order to push those five buttons again to repeat the results.
The engines in the microwave started to work in overdrive, steam clouding the window, and Gordon quickly stepped out, continuing to head for the locker room. Within seconds, behind him he heard the startled shouting at the unmistakable snap of the window and splatter of the contents inside. He snickered mentally, trying not to show anything that would give him away to anybody who passed him, and hurried down the hall.
The locker room door slid open, greeting him with the brown and white walls of shut lockers that seemed to blend into the walls. That may have been the intent of the building's design, but it always seemed a little pointless to Gordon; nobody else came down here except Black Mesa workers. One other scientist had his foot propped up on one of the three black benches in the room, tying his shoelace. He didn't seem to notice Gordon come in. He didn't mind, and simply followed the wall of lockers to his own right next to the bathroom stalls, "Freeman" painted in the brown border that went across all the lockers. He entered the combination on the rotary lock with one hand as he started to slide out of his lab coat.
The lockers were mercifully large for what was typically contained in them; Gordon would often joke that he could hide comfortably in it if trouble struck, for indeed it was a walk-in locker. He stepped inside as he slid the coat off of his shoulders, still in his dress pants and red sweater. On the top shelf, in front of the bright wall lights, was his M.I.T. diploma, and to its left, a photograph of his niece. She was only a few hours old at the time the photo was taken, but that was two years ago. He made a mental note to call his brother next time he had the chance, and took a quick minute to push the stack of Marc Laidlaw books on the shelf below back into a straightened order. Then he hung the coat up on the hook at the bottom of the locker, where a blue poncho was hung as well. He never found a use for that poncho since he put it there, but who knew? Maybe his mother had the right idea and he wouldn't know it until something crazy happened like the sprinkler system going off. If the facility even had a sprinkler system.
He stepped out of the locker, closing it behind him and spinning the lock shut. Now it was time for the most tedious part of getting ready to work. He stepped into the wing to the left of the lockers, parallel to the bathrooms. Three storage units occupied the far wall of this room, and only the one in the middle had the only hazardous materials suit he needed in it; the other two were empty. Gordon didn't have to be told that the last suit was for him. He passed the control panel for the chambers, pressing the single brown button that opened the one he needed. The glass holding the suit slid open. Gordon descended the stairs, taking the few paces to the chamber, and stepping up to pull the bronze orange suit out of place and onto him
He wondered what time it was as he started to assemble the protective gear; this was always the worst part, getting the suit on. It seemed like it took forever and over time it got extremely itchy and uncomfortable throughout the day. The helmet that came with the suit seemed to be missing, too. He really hoped that that wouldn't be a problem when faced with the material he always handled in this job.
Finally the suit was finished, and now came another annoying voice nattering in his ear;
Ping... "Welcome to the H.E.V. mark IV protective system for use in
hazardous environment conditions."
Gordon just let it talk, only listening for if anything was wrong, while testing himself in the suit. It was always a little awkward at first, moving in the suit. It was REALLY awkward the first day; Gordon needed someone to walk him to the test chamber. But it all worked as it should; he could move everything just fine, right down to his fingertips.
"High-impact reactive armor, activated. Atmospheric contaminant sensors, activated. Automatic medical systems, engaged. Defensive weapon selection system, activated. Munitions level monitoring, activated. Communications interface, online. Have a very safe day."
Alright, everything was in order. Gordon went back up the stairs and out the locker room door. This was another test of his suit's ability; the speed. Once it was all up and running, he liked to test out the sprinting option; probably the fastest he ever ran in his life. He startled and almost crashed into a few people his first time doing this, but nowadays anybody he passed simply shook their heads and went about their business. Gordon didn't care; it was a good workout and a little bit of fun before heading to the tedious job in the pit.
He sprinted down the hall, the opposite direction into the blue zone, slowing down only when he was about to turn the corner to the airlock; he knew a security guard was waiting for him there and didn't want to get into any trouble. Catching his breath, he stepped nonchalantly around the corner, giving a nod of greeting to the guard.
"Ah, yes, go right on through, sir." said the guard, stepping over to the retinal scanner, "Looks like you're in the barrel today."
Knowing the origin of that phrase, Gordon couldn't help finding it somewhat appropriate. He waited at the airlock for the security man to clear him. The retinal scanner beeped rapidly, and the light in the airlock doorway turned green. With a click, the doors slid open, and in went Gordon.
The fork in the path behind the second airlock doors was merely aesthetic; both of them lead to the same place. Gordon always chose the right for reasons that weren't conscious, and strolled past the few assorted things that lined the walls, namely two posters; one for safety awareness, one with some attempt at looking patriotic. Just beyond, on the inner wall of the circle, was the elevator he had been looking for. The cubic elevator was already there when he pushed the button that opened the airlock doors leading in. He stepped in and pressed the button down, once again wondering how much time this was taking him. As the elevator descended the intercom chimed, and he looked up to listen.
"Doctor Johnson, please call Observation Tank 1."
He never liked the voice they chose for the PA; it sounded so unnatural and, well, creepy. In a way he suddenly now associated that voice with the man in the suit that seemed to keep following him around today, but he pushed that thought quickly, and gladly, aside as the elevator doors opened. It was still a bit of a way to go, so he sprinted again through the halls, brushing past a few coworkers with a quick apology as he kept running. Past the computers, past the laser tubes, very cautiously labeled, past the generator room, and finally to the first office he had to check in with. Dr. Isaac Kleiner, another scientist on the team, two others whose names he couldn't quite remember yet were waiting for him there. A fourth team member was on the computer behind them.
"Ah, Gordon! There you are!" Kleiner exclaimed, adjusting his glasses. Dr. Kleiner was Gordon's professor at M.I.T., and the one who got him the job at Black Mesa.
"Sorry I'm late," said Gordon, "the trams were having some problems."
"That's quite alright, Gordon. I know you well enough." He chuckled a little at that; even he remembered that Gordon never missed a single day of class in his college years.
"We just sent the sample down to the test chamber." he added. The second scientist continued.
"We boosted the anti-mass spectrometer to one hundred five percent. Bit of a gamble, but we need the extra resolution."
"The administrator is very concerned that we get a conclusive analysis of today's sample." the third scientist added, "I gather they went to some lengths to get it."
"They're waiting for you, Gordon," finished Dr. Kleiner, "In the test chamber."
It was a little spooky sometimes how they seemed to be able to continue each others' sentences like that. But then, they were a team for a long time. That's probably why they refused to even tell him half of the things they were doing in Anomalous Materials. Not even Dr. Kleiner said anything about it. Maybe he was contractually obligated or some such. Still, it was annoying that Gordon seemed to be given information on a "need to know" basis. Did they not trust him? Was he below them because he was new, or the youngest of them all?
Oh well, there was nothing much he could do about it now. One of the two unknown scientists, an aged black man, escorted Gordon to the locked door, preparing the retinal scanner. The machines beeped, and the door opened. Gordon stepped into the next room, where Eli and another team member were talking. As he passed, he could have taken the chance to ask him who the man in the suit was, and what they were arguing so passionately about. But as it was, he could barely say "Good morning" before the two scientists had to make a run for the nearby computer; one of the control panels had blasted open, startling Gordon on the way.
"It's about to go critical!" the second worker exclaimed as Eli fussed over the sparking machine.
"What the hell is going on with our equipment?!" he griped, giving the console a good kick.
"It wasn't meant to do this in the first place." his partner said sadly.
Clearly, now wasn't a good time to bother Eli. He'll have to ask him about it after work. As he stepped into the elevator, he winced at the unmistakable sound of another portion of the computer exploding, followed by a string of curses from Eli.
The elevator revolved as it went down to the next floor. This had startled Gordon the first time he rode it, almost getting knocked off-balance as it made him dizzy. But now he was quite used to it. The lights on the walls scrolled by as it turned, and within seconds the doors appeared, opening as the elevator stopped. Gordon strode quickly down the hall, past the big red sign painted on the wall; Test Lab. There were the computers on the walls, and there he turned right, down the hall through the last door, finally there. Inside the door was the room just outside the pit, sealed with the metal blast doors. The whole room was encased in metal, right down to the floor that clanked under his feet. He was greeted by the two scientists who were to operate the chamber's blast door, who didn't even bother to say hello, simply ready to get down to business.
"I'm afraid we'll be deviating a bit from the standard analysis procedures today, Gordon." said the first scientist, an uncertain tone peeking through in his voice.
"Yes, but with good reason." the second continued, "This is a rare opportunity for us; this is the purest sample we've seen yet."
"And, potentially, the most unstable."
"Now, now, if you follow standard insertion procedure, everything will be fine."
The first scientist looked annoyed. "I don't know how you can say that. Although I will admit that the possibility of a resonance cascade scenario is extremely unlikely--"
"Gordon doesn't need to hear all this," his partner cut him off, a little too quickly, "He's a highly trained professional. We've assured the administrator that nothing will go wrong."
Gordon didn't like the tone in his voice. The incredible optimism alone after everything in the facility was falling apart at the seams was unbelievable, but the way he said that almost seemed like they were refusing to see that potentially, yes, something could go wrong. It reminded him a bit too much of some books he read in high school which seemed to be all about brainwashing.
The first scientist sighed. "Ah...yes, you're right. Gordon, we have complete confidence in you."
"Well, go ahead. Let's let him in now."
The two scientists went to their posts on either side of the room; the test chamber was vital enough that there were two scanners posted, to further increase security. A moot point by now, Gordon always thought. Who the hell would even make it this far? The scanners beeped in unison, opening the blast doors with a whoosh.
And there she was. The Anti-Mass Spectrometer. Dr. Rosenburg's creation. The hulking machine that needed a whole room devoted to her. And with good reason, given the amount of electricity she took, and the amount of electromagnetism and plasma that engulfed her when she was operational. And she was certainly a hell of a sight when those doors were opened. Gordon always chose to tread carefully around the device; he knew very well what could happen if one weren't careful, even without the incredibly resonant material he ended up carting into it every day.
He knew the procedure step by step now. Climb up the ladder, turn on the rotors, wait for further instructions. As he grabbed the ladder to make the careful ascent to the computers that hung in the railing overhead, the microphone from the control room clicked on with a short shriek of feedback.
"Testing, testing," came one voice, who cleared his throat as he concluded, "Everything seems to be in order."
"Alright, Gordon, your suit should keep you comfortable through all this," came the second voice, "The specimen will be delivered to you in a few moments. If you would be so good as to climb up and start the rotors, we can bring the anti-mass spectrometer to eighty percent and hold it there until the carrier arrives."
Gordon was already on the upper railing now. The computer monitor for the rotor system looked fine at a glance; nothing glaringly wrong. First thing that seemed to be working right today. Slowly Gordon lifted the red casing over the power switch, clicking it on.
Slowly the machine came to life. The rotors in the upper chamber of the device groaned and hummed, turning slowly first, then picking up speed gradually until they were spinning at full speed with a constant, mechanical hum.
"Very good," praised one voice on the loudspeaker as the computer beeped, confirming the full operation of the rotors and Gordon clicked the cover shut again, "We'll take it from here."
As much as Gordon wished he could be in the control room himself, he took at least one joy from his work in the chamber; he got to see the spectacular light show that the Spectrometer gave up close and personal. He leaned lightly on the railing to watch from the terminal. The outside columns of the machine began to turn now. Sparks flew into the center point, just below the spinning rotors.
"Power to stage one emitters in three...two...one..."
Plasma glowed at the point, launching itself in a beam straight down into the pit the machine encompassed. The beam trembled like a candle flame, but never broke.
"I'm seeing predictable phase arrays. Stage two emitters...activating...now."
Electricity arced down into the pit from the columns, meeting the plasma beam at the bottom and rotating around it.
"Gordon, we cannot predict how long the system can operate at this level, nor how long the readings will take. Please, work as quickly as you can."
Gordon followed the rail back to the ladder, making his way back down to the ground floor. The specimen should arrive any second now. The intercom chatter continued as he climbed;
"Overhead capacitors to one-oh-five percent." a pause, then, "...Uh, it's probably not a problem...probably...but I'm showing a small discrepancy in--well, no, it's well within acceptable bounds again. Sustaining sequence."
That wasn't convincing. Gordon became more nervous now. Standing at the edge of the machine, on the short flight of stairs, he watched the delivery system a quarter of a circle from where he stood; a mesh gate intended to fence off the lift where the carrier brought up the specimens. The red light on the fence began to blink; something was coming up the elevator.
"I've just been informed that the sample is ready, Gordon. It should be coming to you any moment now. Look to the delivery system for your specimen."
The gates lowered as the platform arrived, carrying the cart used for insertion, and there was the matter that Gordon had seen so many times. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but he knew it was risky doing this all the time. The earlier mention of a possible resonance cascade wasn't good to hear, either. There was a lot of resonance in the material every time, potentially enough to, at worst, destroy the facility and kill them all, and at about as bad, create dimensional rifts. Sure, it sounded like a bad science fiction, but in theoretical physics, a lot of it sounded like that, and of all the things Gordon didn't believe in, that subject was a sure exception, and he was wary of this huge yellow crystal the cart carried. The purest sample yet, they called it, and indeed it could turn out to be the most unstable.
"Standard procedure for a non-standard specimen," the voice on the intercom nagged, "Go ahead, Gordon, schlop the carrier into the analysis port."
Yeah, yeah, no pressure. Well, here goes. He gripped the handles of the cart, pushing it slowly, carefully, down the track. It scraped along the metal floor, dragging itself. The cart shook in his hands as it approached the Spectrometer. With a breath and one last push, the crystal made contact with the beam.
Immediately he jumped back at the loud SNAP! sound that resulted in the contact. That wasn't supposed to happen. Nor was the "oh dear!" exclaimed over the loudspeaker. Or the unearthly green glow that emanated where the crystal touched the beams.
"Gordon! Get away from the beam!"
He was already sprinting toward the blast doors. Behind him the Spectrometer whirred and buzzed, rotors spinning out of control. The lights flickered on and off from the exertion of the machine, the floor began to shake violently, and behind him he could hear the blasts from key points of the machine blowing apart. Gordon threw himself at the door, praying that they were still outside and could get him out before the power went out completely, as it was inevitably going to.
"Shutting down! No, attempted shutdown!" the scientists in the booth desperately recited, "It's not, i-it's not-it's not shutting down! It's not, it's not--AAAAAAAARRRGH!!" Green sparks flew just past Gordon's head as the scream resonated over the intercom; the control room's window had been shot through, electrocuting the team inside.
Shit! Shit! Shit! A confusion of sound echoed through the test chamber; the screaming rotor engines, sparks arcing against the walls, explosions, and if he was listening hard enough in his panic he would hear something garbled and unusual, like a strange unearthly tongue. The room was shot into darkness save for the red emergency lights and the light from the Spectrometer's electrical output. FUCK! Mind racing, Gordon began to kick the blast doors, slamming the heel of his hazmat suit into the wall with a metallic bang that added to the chaos.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Finally the floor gave another lurch and threw Gordon to the floor. Looking behind him he could see the small, controlled explosions engulfing the Spectrometer, the radioactive glow, and some sort of sparkling white lights before a bolt of green electricity shot him between the eyes and he saw nothing. The thunder-like sound lingered and slowly faded.
Silence engulfed him, save for the rapid, steady beat of his heart and his raspy breath. He heard nothing else, and saw nothing but black before him. His whole body felt numb, he couldn't move. His heart and breath sped up, another sound rose around him, a sort of static sound like wind in a microphone. It got louder, louder, sounding more like the thunder he heard before playing backwards, then suddenly with a green flash his senses sprung back to life, assaulting him with the crumbling test chamber again. This time two new sounds were added to the symphony of destruction; the facility alarm, and the sharp shattering sound of glass; the ceiling was beginning to fall down.
He barely dodged a large chunk of falling concrete when he was hit with another flash of green. He stumbled back, seeing through the green electricity that surrounded him a strange geography that he had never seen before. Staring in disbelief, he looked around the purple haze of the world beyond the light. Two creatures stood in the water that came up to Gordon's ankles; at first he thought they were crocodiles, but their faces seemed mangled, made up of tentacles instead of a long snout. Their tentacles sloshed through the water, seeming to be drinking, and they didn't seem to notice the intruder on their territory at all.
Another flash. Gordon blinked his eyes, and when he opened them again he was now in a spotlight of green light. Here he was not alone either; five creatures his height stood around him, staring at him with single red eyes. The bipedal creatures, built almost like human hunchbacks, muttered amongst themselves, their words unknown and warbling; the same language he had heard in the pit. Gordon's heart sank into the pit of his stomach, finding himself unable to back out of the pool of light. He was right; they had created a portal to another dimension. But what dimension was this? he thought. Who were these beasts? And was there any way to get back?
These thoughts followed him into a fading darkness as a crackling sound lingered in his ears.
