Well done. Here are the test results: You are a horrible person. I'm serious, that's what it says: "A horrible person." We weren't even testing for that. Don't let that horrible-person thing discourage you. It's just a data point. If it makes you feel any better, science has now validated your birth mother's decision to abandon you on a doorstep.

Listen to me. We had a lot of fun testing and antagonizing each other, and, yes, sometimes it went too far. But we're off the clock now. It's just us talking, like regular people. And this is no joke: we are in deep trouble.

Okay, listen, we should get our stories straight, all right? If anyone asks - and no one's gonna ask, don't worry - but if anyone asks, tell them as far as you know, the last time you checked, everyone looked pretty much alive, all right? Not dead.

All these science spheres are made of asbestos by the way, keeps out the rats. Let us know if you feel a shortness of breathe, a persistent dry cough or your heart stopping, because that's not part of the test. That's asbestos.

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.