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.

For this next test, we put nanoparticles in the gel. In layman's terms, that's a billion little gizmos that are going to travel into your bloodstream and pump experimental genes and RNA molecules and so forth into your tumors. Now, maybe you don't have any tumors. Well, don't worry. If you sat on a folding chair in the lobby and weren't wearing lead underpants, we took care of that too.

There should be a portal device on that podium over there. I can't see it though. Maybe it fell off. Do you want to go and have a quick look?
Whoah! Hello? Can you see the portal gun? Also, are you alive? That's important; should have asked that first. I'm - do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to work on the assumption that you're still alive, and I'm just going to wait for you up ahead. I'll wait - I'll wait one hour. Then I'll come back, and, assuming I can locate your dead body, I'll bury you. All right? Brilliant! Go, team! See you in an hour! Hopefully! If you're not - dead.

Jump! Actually, looking at it, that's quite a distance, isn't it? You know what? Go ahead and jump. You've got braces on your legs. No braces on your arms, though. Gonna have to rely on the old human strength to keep a grip on the device and, by extension, me. So do. Do make sure to maintain a grip. Also, a note: no braces on your spine, either, so don't land on that. Or your head. No braces there. That could split like a melon from this height.

Nervous laugh

Do definitely focus on landing with your legs.

Before the Wright Brothers invented the airplane, anyone wanting to fly anywhere was required to eat 200 pounds of helium.