To clarify, I was being a bit facetious about wanting to get rid of monitors. They're actually really quite useful. So I do want them around. So if you could avoid smashing them.
You know what I have too many of around here? Monitors. I was just thinking earlier today I wish I had fewer monitors that were working. So you're actually helping me by smashing them.
Crushing's too good for him. First he'll spend a year in the incinerator. Year two: Cryogenic refrigeration wing. Then TEN years in the chamber I built where all the robots scream at you. THEN I'll kill him.
Okay, almost there. On the other side of that wall is one of the old testing tracks. There's a piece of equipment in there we're gonna need to get out of here. I think this is a docking station. Get ready...
smashes into wall
Good news: that is NOT a docking station. So there's one mystery solved. I'm going to attempt a manual override on this wall. Could get a bit technical! Hold on!
smashes into wall, again
Cave Johnson: "Greetings, friend. I'm Cave Johnson, CEO of Aperture Science. You might know us as a vital participant in the 1968 senate hearings on missing astronauts. And you've most likely used one of the many products we invented - but that other people have somehow managed to steal from us. Black Mesa can eat my bankrupt-..."
Caroline: "Sir, the testing?"
Cave Johnson: "Right. Now, you might be asking yourself, "Cave, just how difficult are these tests? What was in that phonebook of a contract I signed? Am I in danger?" Let me answer those questions with a question. Who wants to make sixty dollars? Cash. You can also feel free to relax for up to twenty minutes in the waiting room, which is a damn sight more comfortable than the park benches most of you were sleeping on when we found you. So! Welcome to Aperture. You're here because we want the best, and you're it. Nope. Couldn't keep a straight face."
This next test is very dangerous. To help you remain tranquil in the face of almost certain death, smooth jazz will be deployed, in three, two, one.
Smooth Jazz music plays for ten seconds and then dies out electronically
Cave Johnson: "As founder and CEO of Aperture Science, I thank you for your participation and hope we can count on you for another round of tests. We're not going to release this stuff into the wild until it's good and damn ready, so as long as you keep yourself in top physical form, there will always be a limo waiting for you. Say goodbye, Caroline."
Caroline: "Goodbye, Caroline!"
Cave Johnson: "She is a gem."
I'll tell ya, it's times like this I wish I had a waist so I could wear all my black belts. Yeah, I'm a black belt. In pretty much everything - karate, larate, jiu jitsu, kick punching, belt making, tae kwon do, bedroom.
The two of you have formed an excellent partnership, with one of you handling the cerebral challenges and the other ready to ponderously waddle into action should the test suddenly become an eating contest.
As an impartial collaboration facilitator, it would be unfair of me to name my favorite member of your team. However, it's perfectly fair to hint at it in a way that my least favorite probably isn't smart enough to understand. Rhymeswithglue. Orange, you are doing very well.
If the Enrichment Center is currently being bombarded with fireballs, meteorites, or other objects from space, please avoid unsheltered testing areas wherever a lack of shelter from space-debris DOES NOT appear to be a deliberate part of the test.
If the rules of physics no longer apply in the future, then god help you.
You know, I'm not stupid. I realize you don't want to put me back in charge. You think I'll betray you. And on any other day, you'd be right. The scientists were always hanging cores on me to regulate my behavior. I've heard voices all my life. But now I hear the voice of a conscience, and it's terrifying... because for the first time it's my voice! I'm being serious. I think there's something really wrong with me!
The square root of rope is string.
During the Great Depression, the Tennessee Valley Authority outlawed pet rabbits, forcing many to hot glue-gun long ears onto their pet mice.