She was nothing. And he was everything.
She had always felt insignificant. Overlooked. Useless. She was never good at anything, never good for anything, never wanted by anyone.
Until she walked in Aperture’s front door.
And then the world opened up around her, like a blooming flower made of glass and steel and possibilities, and he was there at the heart of it with his dazzling smile. He shone with such brilliance she had to look away. She had never seen anyone so full of life.
And he looked at her, and saw…
Nothing of importance, she was sure. Nothing in her could compare to all of this. So she’d devote herself to Aperture’s service — as a tool, then finally she’d be useful. She’d become oil in the machine. A small part of something bigger, but an important part, necessary and valued to make the whole thing run. She might lose herself in the process, but she’d finally belong.
A sacrifice? Perhaps. But she didn’t matter. Aperture mattered. He mattered. If they wanted her sacrifice, she’d give it gladly. She’d offer up all of herself to serve what was greater than she. She would bleed, she would cry, she would die for this place if he asked. She would do anything to be worthy of her position at his side.