We’ve Made it This Far
[ Hello @actingwithportals!! It's @portal-secret-santa time! I was your secret Santa this year ;w; I'm sorry for the delay in your gift but I finally have it ready for you! I went with your Doug and Cube vibing prompt so I really hope you like it <3
The song that the turret is singing is This Far by Kina Grannis! ]
"Seems we found a good haul today..." Douglas carefully looked at each small bucket of paint, going through the colors he managed to obtain, as well as some old gel that was converted to be used as paint...most likely a batch that didn't pass inspection from years ago.
The man glanced at the companion cube by a wall of panels...its soft pink glow illuminating the dark little den they found themselves in today.
I suppose it's not too bad of a collection...and we didn't run into any trouble today either.
"At least not yet..." Doug glanced over his shoulder, looking at the small entrance to their sanctuary. "...now that GLaDOS has those turrets mobile, it is becoming more difficult to keep avoiding them.." Saying that realization out loud seemed to make him wilt a little bit.
"...it's always something, isn't it..." he mumbled, running a hand through his dirty shaggy hair, fingers getting caught on a tangle or two. He let out a sigh as he joined his friend on the ground, resting up against it. It was true...it was getting harder and harder to keep hidden now that those wrenched things had legs. Not all of them have been converted to androids just yet...but it was large enough in numbers now to be extremely concerning...and honestly, Doug wasn't sure what to do about it.
…I hear something.
That caused the man to tense, mismatched eyes shrinking a bit. He could hear whispers, but had a hard time picking through what was real and what was just a figment of his condition.
"...what direction?"
...Underneath us.
Hearing that had Doug relax slightly...at least it wasn't coming from just outside of the den. He strained his hearing...and sure enough, he could hear a faint voice. He followed it, crawling down on the ground...until he came to a small opening on the floor, a grate keeping the hole from being completely open. There, sat on weighted storage cube was a little girl...a small turret android...It was strange to see one alone and not grouped with others...this one looked weaponless as well, but it was hard to tell.
"...it's a turret... what is it doing?"
That's when he heard her small robotic voice weave within the air.
"♩ ...You know it's harder when you hold me. You get me searching for the ceiling. Love tried to forget things... It's so hard... So hard... ♫"
"...it's singing..."
Odd...it doesn't sound like the serenade the turrets usually sing... nor the song they performed for that woman..
That was true...it was a different song. But why?
"♫...So I'll keep going through the motions Creating comfort where there is none coming to terms with the notion I'll be okay... ..Okay...♩"
That could mean that the turrets are close...
"...I suppose at least one is..." He sat back up and made his way back over to the wall and his paints.
...You don't seem troubled by that fact.
"They are not aware of us..." Doug's cracked hands softly rubbed the top of his glowing companion, as if to soothe it. "For the time being, we should be alright...Just keep an eye out for them, yeah?" With that, the scientist took off his stained and paint splattered, raggedy lab coat, so carefully draping it over his friend, using the material to protect it from any stray paint splatters. Once situated, the man grabbed cans of paint and converted gels, popping open the lids. His worn hands then grabbed old, abused paint brushes, setting them up before staring at the panel in front of him...a blank canvas...just waiting for inspiration to be spilt upon it...
...What to paint today?...
The murmurs resting in the back of his mind tried to feed into his paranoia, almost having him want to do one of his typical paintings, to vent out not only frustrations, but the worries and fear that rested deep within him, the hopelessness that wanted to spill out of him in waves. He dipped his brush, hovering it over the panel, about to begin to feed into that dreadful feeling, using it to fuel his movements...
...but his hand remained hovering over his canvas...
...he could still hear the turret singing.. the words were soft, almost innocent sounding...
"♩ When rain falls down on me, so hard the winds unravelling me, don't start An ocean swallowing up my heart, But I've made it this far... ...I've made it this far...♫"
It sounded child-like.. almost...lonely...
Slowly, the paint brush made contact with the wall...a stroke of a dark midnight color about midway up the panel...then another.
What are you painting today?
"...Something a little...different."
Different? How so?
"...Do you remember seeing the sky when we first escaped?"
Ah yes. It had the blinding light within it.
"Yes, the sun. That is what the sky looks like during the day time..." the thick brush did another swipe of the dark color as he began to form a sky. "...but there is another time where the sky is dark...littered with thousands of little balls of gas...glowing bright from millions of miles away...stars. That time is night time...."
Night time? The Cube began to glow a bit brighter, almost as if a curious child itself. Sounds fascinating. It's a shame that we cannot see it.
"...I wouldn't rule out the possibility we will one day see it."
...do you truly believe we can make it out of this place? She's back online...and the test subject you saved is no longer even in the facility. The Central Core already released her. And with her turrets always on the move...How do you think it will be even remotely possible for us to escape as well?
The brush paused its movements...as that little voice was heard, continuing its lonely song.
" ♫ It's hard to see a happy ending when you don't see how you can mend things but life is long and forgiving... And it goes on and on and on..♩"
...the bristles struck down again on the textured wall, and continued on its path.
"♩ When rain falls down on me, so hard the winds unravelling me, don't start an ocean swallowing up my heart But I've made it this far...♫"
...the night sky was soon painted, Doug not giving a response to his companion's question. The glow of the cube seemed to have dampened to have its question ignored.
"♫ And I'll keep wishing on a bright star that we’ll keep drawing all the right cards And I'll keep singing when it goes dark... cause I've made it this far... I've made it this far..♩"
Grey mismatched eyes followed the movement of his brush, each stroke of color having a meaning, a purpose...a symphony of hues...the melody, the darker tones...the harmony, the lighter...small dots of white across a midnight sky...darkened fields of wheat, flooded with the light of the moon above...and from a small pink hue across it's stalks.
"♩ ...I've made it this far.....♫"
At the quiet end of the soft robotic voice, Doug lowered his brush...and despite himself, a small smile actually made it to his lips. He dropped his brush in muddy colored water before standing and stretching out his now sore limbs...this art therapy session was a good one...one of his better ones in a long time...to think, a song from this facility got him to actually almost relax...not completely relax, not in this place...but it allowed him to go into his meditative state as each stroke was meticulous and purposeful as the last.
A grunt escaped him as he sat back down beside the cube, wiping his paint covered hands on the material of his lab coat. "...what do you think?"
...you were right. This is different from your normal paintings.
"...is that a bad thing?"
No. Not necessarily...just not used to something with a positive outcome.
"...You know...if you keep thinking about the positive little hopes you keep within your mind, despite knowing it may as well just be lies, just unattainable goals...it could come true...and actually happen. If there's something I've learned in my life, it's to expect the unexpected...and never truly believe the existence that our minds can create and manipulate..." those striking grey eyes stared up at the ceiling, as if he could see those flickering stars above him. "....I really think we will escape one day."
Truly?
"...yeah...I think so." That faint smile grew. "I guess at this point, it doesn't hurt in believing in that hope. We have nothing to lose." He hesitated...then quietly added.
"...We've made it this far..."
He allowed his mind to wonder, pondering on possible outcomes. "...Think we'll come across her once we breathe fresh air once more?"
...I believe so. It's not impossible.
"Yeah...I think that would be nice..." They observed the painting in the now silent area...only the hum of the facility heard...the constant current that flowed through the circuits, keeping the facility alive. After a moment, Doug stood once more, grabbing his coat and putting it back on. "We should keep moving."
Should we take the paints with us?
"...No, let's keep them here...who knows, we may return to this area...seems like a good place to continue this painting, wouldn't you agree?"
A soft little tune was faintly heard, escaping his friend as the room lit up in a brighter pink tone. Doug hummed, satisfied with that response. Soon, the cube was once again on his back and, with one last glance at his recent art piece, he dunked under a low hanging panel and continued forward..
...leaving behind a painting depicting him and the cube, resting out in the wheat fields, under the night sky, brightened by the moon...
...wishing on the falling stars from the sky above.