A typical day for CEO of Aperture

Where magecraft had failed, science had succeeded.

I shouldn't have been surprised. The phenomenon I examined was far from supernatural, although it initially appeared to be. Lifelong pair-bonding is not unheard of in nature, even if the Eldar's example is particularly extreme.

Papers littered the table, a chaotic mess. I should have called Igor to tidy them up, but my companion core was busy collating data from another project, per my instructions. Unsure if the anomaly at Hawkins was unique, I had a van equipped with appropriate measurement devices, roaming across the entirety of the USA. The project was far from finished, but the first set of data had arrived and needed formatting for comparison with the Hawkins measurements.

However, with a bit of help from Boaz, I found the document I sought. It was a comparison of blood analyses for both Archer and myself across our various forms—three human and one Elven. Elven blood was remarkably similar to human blood, containing red blood cells, white blood cells, and thrombocytes. The blood type remained consistent across all human samples, but the Elven samples lacked both antigens in red blood cells and antibodies in the plasma. In fact, there were no detectable antibodies at all in the Elven blood samples. Considering the Elves' immune systems were far more advanced than humans, this was an intriguing data point.

More importantly, an addendum addressed a blood transfusion test. The human forms responded according to the designated blood type—nothing abnormal there. However, in an Elven body, I could only receive blood from Archer, irrespective of which of his bodies it was drawn from. The same held true for Archer.

This added to Archer's comparisons of relevant measures during both Elven crafts and psychometry. There was a striking similarity between Elven abilities and psychic powers. I had suspected as much, but it was gratifying to gather enough data to confirm this theory. The extent of the similarity remained to be seen.

However, this wasn't entirely relevant to the phenomenon I was attempting to decode. The Elven grace—the speed and smoothness of movement—could be an actual manifestation of advanced biofeedback. I noted that a trace of this grace manifested in both Archer and me, even when we assumed human bodies.

This was merely a hypothesis, but what if the Elven immune system identified intruders through psychic senses? In that case, the first time a virgin Elf had sex, they would imprint on their partner. Could this be a merging of psychic signatures? And if there were more than two, or if there was rejection…

I felt confident in my conclusions, but experimental confirmation was necessary.

If I was right, sex with someone other than Archer in human form would be harmless. Of course, if I was wrong, it could kill me. Provided I avoided taking my Elf form for an unspecified time afterwards.

Perhaps I was a bit further from a solution than I'd thought.

In any case, I needed to discuss this with my partner before taking any action. Although we had implicitly agreed on an open relationship, it would be rude to proceed without discussing it first. However, the risk was the primary concern.

I had made a promise to try to do better.

Even if everything ended well, I couldn't avoid that conversation with Archer. He had insisted we discuss things after we settled the children on Io and had some time to recover.

In actuality, what he said was: "Not that I'm ungrateful for how we managed to save the children, but we were extremely lucky. Such unlikely events can teach the wrong lessons. Believe that you can save everyone all the time, and when you eventually fail, that belief will turn into crushing guilt. That guilt can lead to recklessness, which can lead to more failure. One has to be realistic about one's limits."

Then we began dissecting our every action, both his and mine. We started from our arrival at Aperture but then backtracked to the moment I took the One Ring. Ever since our brief stint as ghosts, both our memories were perfect. In my opinion, this was because we had learned to access our astral bodies' memories without interference from the flesh. This made it easier to identify every mistake, every unnecessary risk taken. Arnold, Leo, and Boaz were particularly helpful in identifying errors I had overlooked.

We had vowed to be as honest as possible. I learned new things that my partner had hesitated to mention before, such as his time in Mordor. It was harsher than I expected—an industrial form of malice, efficient and impersonal. Strangely meritocratic. Even from the position of a slave, if one was cruel, ruthless, and competent enough, one could rise high.

I kept one thing secret—my deal with the uncanny bureaucrat. Keeping it a secret was part of the agreement, and it would be unwise to break it.

The entire process was tiresome, painful, and not the fun kind of pain, but ultimately, it was liberating. I could now understand why Kirei's New Year mass had always been so popular, with many repeat visitors—voluntary ones, unlike me.

"Dr. Johnson, Dr. Hutter is here to see you," the voice of my secretary, a human woman, came over the intercom. We'd used a worker android in the position previously, but that had only been a stop-gap measure. Joyce Byers, the current secretary, was also temporary. She would be transferred to another position in the Hawkins facility once it was completed, and then GLaDOS would finally take the post.

GLaDOS had made remarkable progress and should be ready by then. She had settled on she/her pronouns. She claimed that gender didn't really matter to her, but it was useful when communicating with humans, who seemed so burdened with such petty distinctions. She had already been made the administrator of Enrichment Center BSS, and had been given a modem connected to an external phone line. Interestingly, she used her access to befriend the same hackers as in the unrealized timeline. Using the handle "Granny G", she had even scored an invitation to the Legion of Doom.

I wasn't worried. Despite the edgy name, the Legion of Doom was harmless. The members were good kids as far as I remembered, and I hoped to recruit them once they finished college. I wanted to be prepared to corner the cybersecurity market decades in advance. I anticipated, knowing the alternate history, that the government would soon realize how vulnerable our current infrastructure was. In other timelines, the movie War Games was the catalyst for that understanding and it was popular among Aperture staff. Mostly to mock how simple Ai in supposed science fiction was. Aperture would be the first to offer a solution to a problem most didn't even know they had.

 "Let Dr Hutter in, Miss Byers, and hold all my calls afterwards. We are not to be disturbed," I instructed, pressing the intercom button.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked as I watched him enter. I smiled. I was always glad to see my partner, and his timing today was fortuitous.

"I brought you lunch. I planned a picnic, but the weather had other ideas," he said, lifting a small picnic basket.

I glanced out the window. Rain was still falling in a brief summer squall. Summer was ending, and fall was on the horizon.

With a disapproving click of his tongue, he quickly and efficiently tidied my work table. I wanted to protest that he was disrupting my system, but I knew it would be pointless. He covered the cleared space with a tablecloth before setting out plates, glasses, and finally, sandwiches de Miga—Argentinian-style sandwiches made from crustless white bread with mayonnaise, cheese, and ham. Archer had picked up the recipe on a trip to Argentina while on the trail of the Crown of Midnight, along with seedlings of seven popular local edible plants: the Chupasangre cactus, chaura, guaimbé, bola verde, ñandubay, mistol, and maitén.

How did the Crown of Midnight get to Argentina?

After the unpleasant encounter at the Cracks of Doom, I had stored the Crown of Midnight in the warehouse area of the Otherworld. I intended to examine it further, to understand how recent events had affected it, but the crisis at Hawkins National Lab had kept me preoccupied. By the time the situation was resolved, the Crown was gone.

Our investigation began at the location of the breached Anchor Gate in the mountains of Peru, and with the thieves bold enough to steal from me. Although none were captured alive, enough corpses were left to reveal their secrets. They were a band of looters, pillagers of archaeological sites, who had come seeking a legend: a series of three doors that would open only when the stars were properly aligned, leading to treasures beyond this world. The map they held pointed directly to the Anchor Door in Peru. I suspected there existed other maps leading to the remaining two Anchor Doors, one in Tibet and the other on a deserted island in the Pacific.

Unfortunately, I lacked the funds to outright buy the island. However, with our current progress, I held hope for the future. Not only would it provide better security for the gate, but I would also gain access to a beautiful beach, a potential resort for employees, and a volcano with untold potential.

The looters lost men while arriving at the site, more to the traps within the caves leading to the Anchor Gate, and the majority to the bounded fields and charged gems I placed in the entrance hall. Those who survived long enough to cross the Anchor Gate were driven mad by the sight beyond. Only two managed to escape with the Crown of Midnight into the wild, and we later discovered the corpse of one of them not too far from the site, betrayed and killed by his companion.

An alarm was triggered when they breached the Anchor Gate, but I was too entangled with the crisis at Hawkins Lab to react immediately. The Crown of Midnight was a sort of experiment in creating an artificial nature spirit merged with a lost soul to form a Guardian Spirit. The base gem was onyx, making the prototype a nullifier and absorber—a defensive item against foreign magic. However, it had become somewhat inert after Archer severed the spirit of my wicked cousin from it. Some properties remained, making the Crown and whoever carried it partially immune to divination.

By the time we could search for the missing artefact, the trail had gone cold. The Crown of Midnight resurfaced in Argentina, linked to a series of grisly murders. The surviving thief, in his madness, had turned into a cannibalistic serial killer. The Crown was on his head when local police gunned him down. It wasn't long before the valuable artefact fell into the hands of the local, corrupt police.

 "You are making quite a face. Tell me what you're thinking about," he asked, pouring red juice from a thermos.

 Taking a sip, I recognized the taste of fresh strawberries. Knowing him, it was homemade, using strawberries from our greenhouse. Not the ones raised in the synthetic Valinor atmosphere — that experiment had taught us a valuable lesson. Every plant, except for the mallorn sapling and special corn used for making lembas, had initially thrived before suddenly withering and dying in that environment.

Afterwards, Archer used the provided tools to create an optimal environment for each plant.

"I was thinking about the Crown of Midnight. The food brought back memories of the massacre at the Thule Society's hideout. You picked up this recipe while investigating that," I said, taking a small bite. The flavours exploded on my tongue — the bread was as soft as a cloud, the mayonnaise had the perfect balance of sour and savoury, and the ham and cheese melded perfectly with everything else. Somehow, the food he prepared kept getting better and better.

"Please, let's not talk about that while we're eating. I don't normally get upset over Nazis dying gruesome deaths, but that scene was even too much for me."

Such words carried weight when spoken by someone who had spent years in war-torn regions and had even walked across Mordor. I sometimes regretted leaving him to face that alone, but my forensic and tracking techniques were primarily supernatural, and I disliked travelling.

"I do wonder why they did it?" I mused.

"I told you, I don't want to discuss it. Not while we're eating," he responded, frowning. I found his furrowed brows endearing.

"This meal is excellent. You've truly outdone yourself." He looked pleased with the compliment. "It's a shame to spoil it with grim conversation. In other news, I believe I've figured out the mechanics of Elven marriage. Would you believe that it all comes down to an issue of allergies?"

And then, as we ate, I began to explain my conclusions and what led me to them.

He listened attentively but was not convinced. "It is a bit more plausible than your threesome with God idea, but not that much."

"That is a solid Catholic doctrine."

"I don't think it means what you think it means. But then, considering who was in charge of your religious education, your confusion is expected. But even for this new hypothesis, you have no safe way to test it. Tell me that you did not just plan to cheat on me and see if it kills you."

He didn't have to put it like that.

"I would have used Shatter to test it in potential."

"Did you not just explain to me that it was a matter of allergy to foreign Od? All of your selves share Od through that spell. And what if it's a matter of an informational hazard?" he countered aggressively, then calmed and added with just a trace of irony in his voice, "If you're that certain that it's safe, then I will be the one getting fucked by a stranger, and you can sit and watch. That way, you won't miss any details by being distracted."

I pouted. "I guess that hypothesis needs more theoretical work before it is ready for the test phase."

He smirked, looking like a well-satisfied cat with yellow feathers sticking from its mouth. That expression made me want to both kiss him and spank him.

I continued, "First, adding an additional observer would significantly increase both magical energy cost and the casting difficulty. Considering the length and other potential complications, we definitely all need to be isolated. A Bounded Field would work. The Otherworld would be perfect, but its tendency to drive humans insane makes it a bit impractical. Unless you want sex with a madman."

And not only humans. Attempts to keep animals there were all complete failures. Lab rats I had brought there didn't last long. They would kill themselves by gnawing off their paws and using the bloody stumps to paint a disturbing abstract art that almost looked like pictographic writing. If restrained, they would descend into catatonia. Even earthworms would twist themselves into strange, almost runic shapes, wither, and die.

I had made the mistake of giving blueprints for the Personal Service Androids to one of the Aperture Engineers and driven him insane. It may have been a short ride, but at least Dr Smith found the use of the poor fellow as a test case of whether psychic healing could resolve mental illness. The results were promising.

The ability to reverse damage encouraged me to further test the effects of exposure. I tested mostly by exposing test subjects to the Police Box. Symptoms remained constant, first fascination, then paranoia. The tests were stopped there. There were also some long-term effects, like subsequent nightmares and in Trevor's case, an inspiration for rather disturbing drawings. Even more than his usual.

That did explain why Numbers had regular nightmares. I had previously attributed them to trauma. From both their time in the laboratory and the Dream Cycle. They had all recovered some fractured memories of their undead copies. I was proud of Two. He really took in memories of a lunatic rapist and mass murderer with minimal angst. The solution to that had been simple.

I had ordered the androids to keep their distance unless the children voluntarily approached with requests, and I supplied them with a bunch of cute animal familiars to serve as both therapy animals and surveillance. Those familiars required constant attention, so I permanently assigned Leo to manage them. With Arnold managing those in Hawkins, I was left with only Boaz for personal use. At least, it was more silent in my head 

"One is quite enough, two would be a fetish," he teased, drawing me back from my thoughts.

"To quote Alice, 'we are all mad here.'"

"I don't think she was the one who said that in the book," he answered.

"I quoted the book, not the character." I paused to take a bite of the sandwich and continued after I finished chewing. "I guess we could use Jay as the first test subject. It would solve many logistical difficulties, and it would be even safer. And he would be very eager to do it."

"That depends on an android being psychically inert. Let me remind you that GLaDOS has developed some psychic powers."

"But she is a former human, so her remaining thoughts may be haunting her new metal body," I countered.

"By the way, your prediction has come true," he added, changing the topic. "An attempted intrusion has been detected."

"Black Mesa?" I asked, alarmed.

"No. From energy readings, it seemed to originate somewhere in Russia."

"Was it a failure?"

"I said 'attempted.'"

"Naturally," I agreed. "Attempting to open the gate anywhere besides an intersection, like Hawkins for example, is both prohibitively expensive in terms of energy and highly unstable. But still, if they're attempting to open a path, they must have gotten data from Hawkins National Lab."

"Are you sure they didn't steal it from Aperture?" he asked.

"If they had our data, they wouldn't try something certain to lead to failure. Still, it won't take them long to find out that location matters too. We should be prepared to greet visitors in the future, especially those who will bring us gifts. Even if they didn't mean for them to be gifts."

"We already have a fully functional gate. Is it worth the risk?" he asked, glancing at me curiously.

"There are things we can learn from parallel development. And it's not much of a risk," I responded.

"It could expose more of our resources," he warned, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Not if we are careful," I assured him, matching his gaze confidently.

"Should we share this data with Owens? It would reveal that we have the capacity to monitor breaches?" he posed, eyeing me thoughtfully.

"Yes. But let's keep our gates to ourselves for now. The material we get is just too useful," I suggested, outlining our strategic advantage.

"Who would guess that many compounds that could be used to treat HIV are naturally occurring beyond the gate?" he pondered aloud, his gaze drifting off into the distance.

I was more interested in microcrystals with traces amount of exotic matter. One because they had some interesting properties that could significantly advance portal technology and another because it hinted that Upside Down and Xen were connected. But he had his own priorities.

"It's thanks to your work. If you hadn't compiled those reports, we wouldn't know their value. I'm sorry that GLaDOS will take credit for it," I admitted, sounding genuinely apologetic.

"No matter. It's important that people are saved, not who gets the credit," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Being too selfless is eventually counterproductive. Reputation can be a useful tool. How is the sample doing?" I asked, changing the subject.

The sample I referred to was a piece of vines from Upside Down that Archer severed from the hivemind using Rule Breaker and then planted in the greenhouse.

"It's thriving, it's making some sort of buds," he reported, his tone holding a hint of excitement.

"Any chance of raising it in the Enrichment Center?" I asked, looking hopeful.

"I'll need more time to be sure, but I am optimistic," he replied, giving me a reassuring smile.

I finished the last of my sandwich and drained the remaining juice from my glass. Glancing over, I noticed he too had completed his meal.

"Next on my schedule is a D&D session with GLaDOS, but we still have time for a quickie." I stood from the table and extended my hand. A tendril emerged from my sleeve. "It needs feeding too."

"I'm happy to provide," he answered. He stood up, predatory approached me circling the table still laden with food, and pushed me to the glass window, kissing me, while his hands grabbed both my crotch. I returned the favour, feeling the firm muscle of his ass under my questing fingers.

As his tongue pierced my mouth cavity, his fingers were busy undoing my belt. My pants fell. Underwear joined them soon. My hard cock sprang out of containment, bobbly felly and air for a moment and he captured my member in a firm grip. 

I put my hands on his shoulders and then pushed him down on his knees. He did not hesitate. He took the whole length in a single gulp.

"Good boy," I murmured and caressed my partner's shaggy blond hair, pressing down on his head in encouragement. Those strong fingers cupped and kneaded my balls as his hot tongue engulfed my cock and worked its way down to my sacs with catlike licks.

I would have liked to enjoy his mouth more, but we did not have much time.

"Enough," I firmly command, pushing him away. "Stand up."

"Yes, Master," he said as he stood up. I could from the bulge and his satisfied smirk, that he was enjoying this as much as I am. 

I grabbed him roughly by the arms, and switched our position so that his face was facing the window now, and I was at his back.

 "Imagine if they could see us," I said as fumbled with his belt. There was no they. The window faced the empty field and forest further back. But it was a fine fantasy to imagine a cheering audience. I gripped his bare ass and then added a few firm spanks to add some colour. "You like this, don't you?"

"Yes," he moaned, pushing his hips back a bit "but I would like your cock more."

"Soon," I murmured, gently biting his ear. A tendril coated fingers on my right hand and used the first one and then two to stretch his hole. With my left, I gripped his cock and pumped it slowly. And while hands were doing that my mouth kissed the nape of his neck. 

"Now," he almost growled, his voice filled with desperate need.

I obliged. I took my fingers out and used that hand to guide my tendril-covered cock into his adequately stretched entrance.

With a firm push, I entered him. I pushed and pushed until my hips met his. I stood still for a moment and pulled out until just the tip of much remained in.

In and out. I used my hand to stroke his hard cock in the same rhythm, while I used the other hand to play with his nipples.

With a cry, Archer shouted out his release. Tightening his muscles, he pulled me along with him to a mutual release. The tendril raced down my arm, catching and greedily devouring his spunk before while goo could hit the glass.

Relaxed and satisfied, I wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his chest.

"I'll clean up," he said, gently nudging me out of my post-orgasmic haze, "You have a game to host." 

To round out the Dungeons and Dragons party, I invited two young Aperture scientists to participate in the experiment. Their Christian names were Henry and Doug. Both were in their early 20s, having recently completed their doctorates. As Aperture scientists, they were fairly mad. Doug was a paranoid schizophrenic and Henry was arguably worse: an optimist.

"How could you?" Henry asked. Frustration creased his face as he ran his fingers through his thinning hair, already showing signs of male-pattern baldness. "I put the helmet of alignment reversal on you. You are now lawful good. You have a conscience. How could you betray me?"

"Everybody ignores their conscience," Doug mumbled. His eyes darted nervously around the room, his sparse moustache twitching like the whiskers of a particularly anxious rat.

He had nothing to fear, not while I was present. GLaDOS knew well enough that I could thwart any attempt at causing harm in my company. If I had failed to teach her morality and compassion, at least I had managed to teach her obedience through overwhelming power. She knew that if she wanted to go on a killing spree, she had to get through me first – a task beyond her capabilities. Still, I held out hope that she was discovering value in human life beyond viewing them as disposable test subjects. Or perhaps, I had merely taught her to be a better liar.

"It was for the greater good," GLaDOS explained. "The more XP points, equipment, and gold I have, the more good I can do."

"This seems like a good point to end today's session," I chimed in. As in every session, I was the Dungeon Master. "This will give you time to consider your arguments. You can present them in the next session, and I will make the ruling then."

"I'm leaving. I promised Sam that I would help him with his model rockets today," hissed the wraith. His voice was a dying rasp echoing in an ancient tomb, yet the pride for his son was still palpable. I couldn't discern whether he genuinely felt it or if it was merely what I expected of him. The Somber Arts were far harsher than the necromancy originating from magecraft, and more absolute. He perceived the world as I wanted him to, he spoke as I directed, and he believed in what I wished him to believe. In essence, his will was entirely mine. He was my slave in every way that mattered.

But the binding was absolutely necessary. His existence was profoundly unnatural, and he felt every agonizing moment of it. My binding was the only thing keeping him functional: a loving father and a productive member of society. Yet, it was undeniably a harsh measure.

As the last echoes of the wraith's departure receded, I was left alone with GLaDOS in the dimmed room, the tabletop still strewn with dice and sheets from our game.

"I have a request," GLaDOS said abruptly, her optical sensor flickering as she adjusted her focus towards me.

"About the game?" I queried, my hands absent-mindedly beginning to gather the game materials.

"No. It is about BSS," she responded in her characteristic robotic tone, "I would like to post some challenges to hackers with rewards."

The idea piqued my interest. "If you keep the challenges contained to our systems," I cautioned, though I could see the potential benefits in what she proposed.

"Understood," she confirmed promptly, her mechanical head making an approximation of a nod. "The other systems are both harder to monitor and too easy."

"Do you think any human could pass your security?" I asked, curious about her confidence in this matter.

"Save you? No. But I would like to test it," she answered matter-of-factly.

"Well, to keep encouraged give some rewards to those who impress you. I leave it to your discretion. How do you plan to issue those challenges?"

"I have determined the phone numbers of BSS where a majority of prominent American hackers spend their time. I plan to hack them all and use them to send it." Her statement had an air of satisfaction, as if she was pleased with her idea.

I laughed, the concept fitting perfectly with GLaDOS's audacious nature. "Nice. One more thing. I would like more traffic to our BSS. Please set up easy registration guest accounts, some interesting free ezines, and anything else you think would help."

As I left the room, the faint hum of GLaDOS's servos fading behind me, a thought came to mind - a quote from Machiavelli's 'The Prince': "It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both." My control over GLaDOS wasn't based on affection, but fear. And it seemed to be working just fine.

"Have you given any thought to college?" I asked Trevor, my gaze steady on the young man seated across from me.

With the Orphan Project no longer facing mortality issues, the education of these children had become paramount. The basic compliance with federal regulations that had been satisfactory before wasn't going to cut it anymore with their extended lifespans. This challenge, however, presented itself as an opportunity. An opportunity to experiment, to create an innovative educational model. Drawing on my experiences with a futuristic automated education facility on Io, we crafted our own version right here. The result was even certified. I was not quite sure how. But between this and what we were doing about AIDS, I was suspecting that Aperture's prohibition Against witchcraft made an exception for lawyers.

Our experiment, though successful, catered to their education only up until college.

Trevor McGee, approaching his 18th birthday, was on the brink of graduating from the Orphan Project. The options were laid out before him - pursue higher education or vocational training, join our ranks at Aperture, or leave to seek his fortune elsewhere.

This was the purpose of our meeting, and though I wouldn't usually involve myself so personally, Trevor was a special case. I'd used him to test an application on my smartphone. Thankfully, it turned out to be harmless. But it felt like I owed him a bit of personal attention. 

"Not really," he responded, savouring a sip of strawberry juice from his glass. We had an excess of it, courtesy of Archer, and fresh was always best. Judging by his expression, he seemed to be enjoying the juice a tad too much. A mental note to change his clothes soon was made. "The only thing I enjoy is drawing. I don't think I need college for that."

"There are art courses," I offered casually.

"I draw comics," he replied with a tinge of sarcasm, but his features softened as he took another sip.

"And vocational schools? Not for you either?" I probed.

He just shook his head in a silent refusal.

"Unless you want to leave," I started, leaving a pause for his response.

"Where would I go?" Trevor questioned. "There's only one place I want to visit. But I'm not ready."

I waited for him to elaborate, but when he remained silent, I let it go. His personal affairs were of no particular interest to me.

"Well, there's a position for a cartoonist at our newly established Aperture Publishing." I had recently created a Bounded Field over the Enrichment Center to stream data from future alternative world's internet directly into our employees' minds. The primary intention was to inspire them with scientific data, and it did. It also filled their heads with erotic dreams. The outcome was broader than I expected - everyone, from scientists to janitors, had started writing novels, scripts, and creating artwork, all to be published years later in another world. To keep everything in-house, I established a new branch within Aperture. "Pay isn't high unless your work becomes very popular. We provide a room and cover basic necessities, and there's always a chance to earn extra as a test subject. We always need those."

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

"Igor, why are you interrupting my meeting?" I asked as my assistant robot silently placed a folder before me. As I scanned the documents within, I commented, "I see. So a second potential anomalous site has been found. Missing Mile. An interesting name for a town."

The sound of shattered glass made me turn my gaze. Trevor had gone pale, his hands were shaking, and the remnants of a glass sat soaked in red juice on the floor. "Missing Mile?"