After years of writing video games as fanfics, and in need of a challenge, I have decided to do Portal. After years of editing for me, and with inspiration from the "Freeman's Mind" series, my usual co-writer has decided to join in. This is now part "Chell's Mind: The Written Series" and part experiment, as it is the first time either of us has published anything written in first-person narration.

Don't worry about the past/present tense issues that might pop up. We're doing our best, and I chose the one that came more naturally. Not all dialogue came from the game, but we're trying to keep it close enough at first.

Once upon a time, a little girl followed her father to work one day. She was fascinated by the stone-cold science of the place, and then it all went down.

That little girl was me.

Now that we've gotten the backstory out of the way, how about some real answers? Like, for example, why, as an adult, I found myself locked in a room with nothing but a bed and a toilet, the whole place smelling like a hospital?

Well, about that...

"Welcome to the Aperture Science Computer Aided Enrichment Center."

Yeah, that pretty much covers it. Thanks, computer voice box.

"We hope your stay in the relaxation chamber has been a good one. Before we begin your testing, please remember that though learning and fun are the primary objectives, serious injury may occur. For your safety and for others..."

The voice breaks, drowning out the words and sending sparks flying from, well, everywhere. I can only hope it's a glitch in the system.

"The portal will open in three...two..."

A flash of orange light, and I step through the new hole in the wall.

Was this the test?

Was this seriously the test?

A big red button is there in the middle of the floor, clearly saying 'stand here.' There is nothing difficult about this at all.

Perhaps the test is for these things attached to my legs? You can't call them shoes, they're just heels attached to a knee brace. They're heavy, and make walking a bit of a challenge. That could be some new military equipment, right?

So standing on the button was probably testing the weight of the brace bars, or whatever they were. I could understand that.

The light next to the locked door turns on as soon as I stand on the button, so I was right about that. The doors open almost instantly, but the real surprise was a large cube dropping right next to the door. So that was how to keep the door open once I'd unlocked it, was it?

It isn't hard at all, and I'll admit that I'm a bit disappointed by that. Compared to the crowbars attached to my legs, the cube is almost light, and easily dragged to the button. The cake was as good as mine.

"Good job. You seem to understand basic button-pressing techniques." Thank you again, disembodied voice. "You may now move on to the actual test chamber."

I can detect the sarcasm there, but I'm not buying into it. I'm not even going to give that computer a response. I'm just going to go through the weird curtain thing that looks like it's spitting electricity, head into the real test chambers, and leave behind a legend. Or maybe a rotting corpse, I don't know.

Exactly whose rotting corpse may vary.

"Please note the Aperture Science Emancipation Grill placed in front of the elevator," the voice says, just as I cautiously stick my hand through it. "It has been designed to emancipate any unauthorized equipment. The Aperture Science Weighted Storage Cube, for instance."

So no cubes through the magic electric curtain. Got it.

The actual test chamber is much more like the kind of chamber I was imagining when they woke me up for testing. Still shiny, and still coming with that sharp hospital smell, but actually looking almost like it could be a challenge for any other person.

The button is on the other side of a big, orange-rimmed hole, with the Aperture Science Weighted Storage Cube (trademark) on the other side of an enormous wall of what seemed to be glass. I could smash it, I suppose. Difficult to avoid getting blood everywhere, with legs bare from the knee down, but a little blood was nothing compared to starving to death like a lab mouse too stupid to realize the maze was made of cardboard.

I did that experiment in fourth grade, actually. I caught the mice myself, built the maze, and had it all knocked down in about half an hour. Either that was a really smart mouse, or my craftsmanship was crap. Crapsmanship...

But I'm smarter than a mouse, even an intelligent one. The computer lady says some words, but I'm not confused enough to care yet. The big red button on the other side of the hole disappears, replaced with a door that looks like the previous exit. If I'm not wrong, the next one should lead me directly to the cube, no smashing required.

I'm not wrong. I still have to peek around the corners of the cube, just in case. This area is dark and dry, and the last thing I want is a spider crawling on me, running its hairy legs across my arms as it crawls up the sleeve of my jumpsuit, up to my neck, before sinking its spider teeth into my flesh, injecting me with probably-harmless venom and...

No, that's stupid. Spiders aren't vampires. Vampires are actually cool. In most cases, anyway.

But who knows what Aperture Science does to spiders? I've heard the founder was completely out of his nut by the time he kicked it, he could have mutated them and kept them as pets and let them breed in the hallways...

I grab onto the cube and jump into the portal just in time. It switches back to the button room almost immediately, and I hear the satisfying sound of the door opening as soon as I put the cube in the proper place.

"Perfect. Please move quickly to the exit, as the effects of prolonged exposure to the button are not part of this test."

It's a button, I want to say. What harm could that thing cause?

I keep my mouth closed, though, because I have a feeling that I really don't want to find out.

"Please remember that a noticeable taste of blood is not part of the testing protocol," the computer lady says, and I stare at the speaker in the new test chamber. She's kidding, right? "It is merely a side-effect of the Aperture Science Material Emancipation Grill. The Aperture Science Emancipation Grill may, on semi-rare occasions, emancipate dental fillings, crowns, tooth enamel, and teeth."

I don't taste anything, but I run my tongue over my teeth, just in case. Nothing feels out of place, but I have to be more careful from now on.

I peek through the window at the actual test. A gun shooting blue lasers, opening blue portals. My goal isn't obvious from this point, but then, at first I'd thought that my goal for the last test was to smash the glass to get the cube. My current objective is to...grab the gun? Is that what she wanted?

Well, why not. Maybe I can smuggle it out of here when I get my freedom. How much would a portal gun go for, if I sold it to the military instead of pawning it? Probably a lot of money, enough that I can get a place to live while I work on finding a real job. Or maybe I can claim I invented it...say I lost the blueprints for this 'prototype' and hire more competent scientists to take it apart and figure out how it worked...

The door opens as soon as I get close enough, and I run down the stairs, barely missing getting hit with a portal to my skull. I walk through the wall instead, diving for the gun in case she booby-trapped it. I don't think it's radioactive, either, but you can never be too sure on that. I'll have to make sure that the versions I sell the army pass radiation tests. I don't want to kill our soldiers, just the other guys.

"Well done," the voice says, and I grip the gun more tightly. Like everything else in these chambers, it's shiny and white and smells of some strange chemical, but I've kind of gotten used to it. "You can now create your own completely safe portals. Please note that the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device comes with a set of rules that must be obeyed on punishment of failure. Do not touch the operational end of the device. Do not look into the operational end of the device."

She really likes hearing herself talk, doesn't she?

"Do not submerge the device in water, even partially, and do not feed it after midnight. Do not sell the device to another test subject for cash, credit, or fruit roll-ups. The Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device is not a suitable weapon in case of a zombie apocalypse."

Ok, the only reason these would even be rules is if some idiot got the gun before me and tried at least one of the above. And of course it would be good against zombies, I'd just blast them to somewhere high up and get away. I could take out more zombies with this thing than with a machine gun!

It wouldn't be quite as fun, but it would sure be a lot quieter.

"Do not test the limits of the device unless there is a specific test designed to test the limits of the device. Do not take apart the device. Do not try to upgrade the device with your primitive monkey fingers."

The elevator's been at the next destination for thirty seconds now, but I've been listening to the rules carefully and imagining all the morons who ended up making them necessary. The test would still be there when she shut up.

"Most importantly, do not -"

And then she shuts off, with a loud humming sound. Maybe someone got sick of listening to her and unplugged her. That's what I would have done.

Well, there's no time to waste. The sooner I finish this, the sooner I can leave.