It's not out of the question that you might have a very minor case of serious brain damage.

During the Great Depression, the Tennessee Valley Authority outlawed pet rabbits, forcing many to hot glue-gun long ears onto their pet mice.

I hope you brought something stronger than a portal gun this time. Otherwise, I'm afraid you're about to become the immediate past president of the Being Alive Club. Ha, ha.

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.

Ooh. It's dark down here, isn't it? They say that the old caretaker of this place went absolutely crazy. Chopped up his entire staff - of robots - all of them robots! They say at night you can still hear the screams - of their replicas. All of them functionally indistinguishable from the originals... No memory of the incident... Nobody knows what they're screaming about. Ab-solutely terrifying. Though obviously not paranormal in any meaningful way.