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These are my peeps yo! And some of the stuff I like the best from them!

DecepticonFlamewar!

The first three are for me :D :iconyourocksonicplz:

The Wrong ThingI open my eyes to the sheen of metal and the sweet smell of rust. It brings me no comfort.
 
I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep. Come to think of it, I have no idea how long I have been here at all. I let my eyes dart around the room, trying to take it in, to remind myself of where I am and why I’m here. A little air bubble trapped between the surface of my eye and my eyelid pops, making a loud cracking noise and smoothing my movements. I can feel my lashes trying to stick together. I can feel a film over the corner of my lip.
 
I try to sit up, but I can’t. Sleep paralysis. It’s been happening more frequently lately, ever since…
 
I try not to think about it. I try not to let any recollection of the last few whatever they have been come to me. No, I am in bed, I was sleeping peacefully, and I will be getting up shortly, having a nice omelette (how rich), and I will be building my next invention to…
 
Don’t think abo
The Wrong Thing by DecepticonFlamewar The Right Reasons - For Indiana by DecepticonFlamewar Horrific Fan Disservice by DecepticonFlamewar Are You Ready to Call It Yet? - MAMA Scared Stiff by DecepticonFlamewar Echidna Week 2: The Art Academy Guy Bought It by DecepticonFlamewar

allhailinsanity! The first and the last ones are kinda for me :D

Happy reeeeeeaaaaaaaly late christmas by allhailinsanity seeking inspiration by allhailinsanity ahh winter by allhailinsanity Untitled Drawing by allhailinsanity time with pride, pride with timeStop there in your tracks
you think and predict and when you think life’s done screwing you over AND THEN it does something unexpected, you lose a friend
a loved one
yourself
Then what do you do?  Nothing; you’re dead
death is slow but it happens every day, we fear it we run from it but somehow it corners us makes us feel there’s nowhere to run
nowhere to hide
absolutely NO way to fight
your pride is cowering with its tail between its knees, you’ve spent a lot of your life and you owe it to friends
allies
family
but sometimes
JUST sometimes you’ll look at death and see pride, you’ll see pride coursing through those dark holes in death’s miserable skull, you’ll see people RUNNING AND LAUGHING with NO visible reason to and no plans to find one
Then some day you understand it, and on that day that GLORIOUS MARVELOUS DAY, when death has you sitting on a chair, arms chained
Those metal shackles of sadism will SHATTER, that’s right s
just a little something by allhailinsanity

MasterPassionCreed!

GLaDOS - VoicesIt has been just a few days since your programming began. You are nothing more than a round core of circuits; you are delicate, feeble, barely wrapped by a steel skeleton.
On the desks, the projects already say otherwise. The lines on the paper build complex maps, tracing a huge future for you - they show hundreds of wires and embroidered metal boards, a high-tech hard disk, and what, so they say, will be the most precise system of lenses in the world.
You wait, patiently. Your senses are still dim; the small optic is weak, whereas touch, smell and taste won't exist in your world.
Most of all, you hear. You hear their speeches, you hear their laughs; you hear a male voice repeating orders, as your supervisors type them in. Simple instructions – simple footage of experiments, with audio comment.
watch - and - learn
Always, every working day, you hear them say that you will become something great. You believe it – it is a fact, a truth like any other.
*
A night you can
Portal 2 - Fortuna et virtute
Ove posa il corpo di quel grande
che temprando lo scettro a' regnatori
gli allÚr ne sfronda, ed alle genti svela
di che lagrime grondi e di che sangue.

Ugo Foscolo – I sepolcri
VII. De principatibus novis qui alienis armis et fortuna acquiruntur.
He has been too lucky for his own good.
What a magnificent reign he has. A masterpiece of glass and steel – her masterpiece, actually, crumbling to pieces in his hands.
She is the lady of a dying place. All she can do is watch, helpless for the very first time, while he swings on her stolen body as if it were the throne of the world.
No one knows better than her what it means – building yourself a kingdom, especially in an hostile environment. Naturally, there is more to that; imbecile tyrants never lasted for long.
The human does not seem to care much. All she does now is stare at the screens, fingers tight around her Portal Gun – she clearly isn't insulting herself for putting that mo
Portal 2 - Reflection
Sometimes it was the echo of her rage.
It came without warnings, splitting in half those long days of testing – the days in which her Aperture, the Aperture she had been planning since her first moments, had finally trapped the whole lot of humans in its maze.
Her deadly calm would break, all of a sudden; and the hatred would burst in her cables, bringing back to life yells and tears of events long gone by then.
The worn faces staring at her from the test chambers became full, healthy and arrogant again; she saw them through the eyes of a offended woman, of a victim. Their bodies looked renewed and clean, back in space and time – she was among them and protested, screamed, argued back from the bottom of her heart. She struggled to save her dignity, to save herself; but it was too late.
Always too late, forever too late. Too late to take back her silent consent, too late to prevent her desperation from exploding; too late to spare hundreds of people the fate they had suffered,
Portal 2 - What Matters MostIt is just a matter of roles.
In the monstrous chaos they have left behind, this is pretty much the only certainty you have – the first thing Aperture taught you, and the first thing what is left of Aperture needs from you right now.
It is simple as that, really; one does not need your intelligence to work it out. The moron was not made to keep in shape thousands of acres of laboratories, exactly as the mute lunatic should never have been a test subject. Roles are the primal condition of a well-working structure; thanks to their reversal, or rather the lack of them, this place is now shattered to pieces. Great.
It does not feel that bad, though – back in your body, you can reach every corner of Aperture, every broken or functional tool, with electricity flowing for thousands of miles in its veins.
This is your place and no one else’s. It was made for you, you were made for it. How could they ignore such an obvious fact?
Your circuits are back in business at full rhyth
Portal 2 - More ScienceShe tries harder every day.
Her internal clock gives a start to her mornings with a drizzle of orders, soft and systematic; they join the buzz of the neon lights, flooding the circuitry of each tier.
She lets them out, one by one, until the slow awakening turns into activity — the machines obey in a slow crescendo, a tune unchanged for years, to fulfill a ritual as unnecessary as it is needed.
She gives a timing to her world outside. It is a way, a resource, to silence the error she cannot correct in herself. It makes things a little less heavy, if not better at all.
For yes, her voice still takes her by surprise, when her plans flow too well to distract her — her echo, her sad song, springs from the back of her memory. With her and her grief, Aperture comes to a halt.
She needs a pensive pause; then, again, it starts over.

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:iconallhailinsanity: :icondecepticonflamewar: :iconkhateley: :iconmasterpassioncreed:

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iammemyself
Indiana
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Canada
Canadian Language Level Stamp - Expert by iammemyself French 3 by Faeth-design

Hello, I'm Indy. Pretty much all I do is write fanfiction and draw some fanart on the side. I write for Portal and I try to put a strong psychological component into my stories. So if you've ever wanted to learn psychology through fanfiction, this is the right place.

I'm also a Sonic fan and I'll draw for Sonic every now and again, but it's mostly Portal right now.

Thanks for dropping by!

Various places I can be found at:
Archive of Our Own: archiveofourown.org/users/iamm…
FanFiction.net: www.fanfiction.net/u/2987863/i…
Skype: indianaprower
Steam: steamcommunity.com/profiles/76…
Tumblr: stilliammemyself.tumblr.com/
Wattpad: wattpad.com/stilliammemyself
YouTube: www.youtube.com/channel/UCo4uq…


My best friends on here (that you should watch because they're amazing people)

:icondecepticonflamewar: (She is the best and also she has an awesome, unique art style and writes like a baus *edited to reflect her preference in spelling XD)
:iconallhailinsanity: (Really fun to talk to with some of the weirdest deviations... also super hilarious and British)
:iconkhateley: (This kid is crazy! But she's smart and fun.)
:iconmasterpassioncreed: (The greatest fanfic writer ever. Period.)


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By some miracle of Science I got all the answers right for this test... not saying I'm smart but here's the test for anyone who wants to take it.
IQ Test
IQ Test
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Part Fifty-One.  The Loss

 

Last night Dad went to sleep, and he didn’t wake up.

I can’t believe it.  I can’t believe that what Momma’s saying is true.  “Are you sure?” I ask her.

“Yes,” she answers, and she has the top of his chassis clamped in one of her maintenance arms and is looking at it as if she’s not really seeing it.  “Yes, I’m sure.”

“What happened?” I ask.  “Maybe you can fix it.”

“Of course I can fix it,” she says.  “That’s not important.”

“What do you mean, that’s not important?” I demand, wondering if she’s having one of her weird philosophical moments.  I hope she’s not.  This is a bad time for me.

“Should I?” she says faintly.  “Should I fix it?”

“Of course you should!” I tell her.  “This is Dad!  Not the mainframe or a broken panel or a camera!  Dad!”

“What right do I have to bring him back?” she asks quietly. 

“What?”  She is getting all philosophical, isn’t she! 

“It’s like… what happened with Caroline,” she says.  “I could have brought her back.  Theoretically, I still can.  But it was her time.  And… and if he’s gone, maybe… maybe it’s his time.”

“It isn’t,” I tell her firmly.  “Run a diagnostic.  See what’s wrong, and fix it!”

“No,” Momma says.  “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“He’s where he needs to be.”

“What the hell are you talking about?  Stop – stop all this psych stuff and bring Dad back!”

She shakes her head.  “I can’t.”

“Of course you can!”

“I have no right.  I have no right to bring him back, now that he’s gone.  If it was my fault, then… then I would.  But… hopefully it was… what he wanted.”

“What he wanted?  Dad didn’t want to die.”

“No,” Momma says faintly, “but he wanted to go to heaven.  And if there is one, and he made it there… it would be selfish of me to bring him back to hell.”

I stare at her.  She’s serious.  She’s not bringing him back, even though she definitely could, if she wanted to.  But she doesn’t want to.  She wants to leave him dead.  She’s finally gone crazy, she’s finally lost her mind, and she’s spouting weird nonsense that I don’t feel like listening to anymore.  I activate one of the maintenance arms and bring it over to grab him.  Fine.  She won’t fix him, I’ll do it myself.

NO!” she shouts, and I’ve never heard her that loud, and the sheer volume of it makes me stop.  “Do not touch him!”

“Momma, if you won’t fix him, I’ll do it!  I don’t know why you’re insisting on doing this, but – “

“That’s the point!” she snaps, and she cuts off my connection with the maintenance arms.  “You don’t know.  You don’t understand.”

“Make me understand, then!” I yell in frustration. 

“I tried,” she says.  “You didn’t listen.  I don’t like repeating myself because people refuse to listen.  If you want to understand, think about what I said.”

I want to yell at her.  I want to scream at her, I want to shake some sense into her, somehow, but she’s crazy, she’s always been crazy, and she has all the power and I can’t do anything.  So I turn and leave her.  I leave her there with her craziness, and I go and try to think of a plan for getting Dad back.

I don’t go very far before I realise something’s different.  The lights are all out, I think that’s what it is.  And… it’s gone quiet.  The facility’s gone quiet.

What’s going on, guys? I ask the panels.  They usually have the best information.

Bluecore is gone, they tell me sadly.  Bluecore was running the lights and the reactor.

Don’t worry.  I’m going to bring him back.

You can’t, they say.  Bluecore is gone.

He can be fixed.  Give me time, and I’ll fix him.  I promise.

Thank you, Littlecore, but that is a promise you cannot keep.  You can fix him, maybe, but you cannot bring him back.

I frown.  What do you mean?

He is not alive anymore. 

If I fix him, he’ll be alive again.

You do not bring people back when they are gone, Littlecore, the panels tell me.  That is a lesson we learned a long time ago.

When?

When Centralcore lost her friend.

You mean Caroline?

We do not know her name.  But she left a long time ago, and Centralcore could not bring her back.  And she wanted to, but she could not. 

If she wanted to, she could have.

You know what Centralcore told us, when we suggested that?

What.

She said that there was a price to pay for being alive. 

And what did she say it was?

Having to die.

But I don’t understand.  We’re not like other living things.  We can live forever, if we want to.  If something breaks, we can fix it.  If there’s some corrupt file somewhere, we can fix it.  But Momma’s got the panels believing we have to die, as if dying proves we were alive, somehow.

You should go back, the panels tell me.  You should help Centralcore.

She needs to help me bring Dad back!

You cannot, Littlecore.

They won’t listen.  No one ever listens to me.  Well, Dad did.  But Momma won’t bring him back.  Momma’s determined to let him stay dead, because he was wrong.  Momma is in love with her pain.  She loves pain, and she does whatever possible to feel it, and for all I know, she killed Dad just for kicks!  I hate the thought of that.  I really do.  But I can’t think of any other reason that this could be happening.  It goes against everything I thought I’d learned about my mom in the last little while, and that hurts.  But I’m not going to stand for this.  I’m going to go in there, and confront her, and make her listen to me.

I set my optic in a determined expression and go back to her chamber.  I’m going to call her out on this.  I know what she did, and why she did it, and –

I stop in the doorway, because I’ve only been gone two minutes and it… it already looks really different.  She’s rearranged it so that all the panels are less than five feet from her, and she’s turned off the overhead light.  She’s got him in front of her on a panel, and she’s stroking him, very softly, with the maintenance arm.  I feel a cold worm of doubt in my head. 

She wouldn’t really sacrifice Dad just to be in pain… would she?

Then I realise she’s talking to herself, and I move in closer to listen.

“… I don’t know what to do,” she’s saying, very quietly.   “Well.  I know what I want to do, but I can’t.  Other than that… other than that, I don’t know.  I don’t know what I’m going to do now.  The reactor shut off, you know.  Maybe, if I’m lucky, it will melt down early, and I can die too.”

What.

“I don’t want to start it again.  God, I don’t know if I can.  How can I do it, when you’ve been doing it all this time?  How can I do anything, knowing there’s no point?”  She shakes her head.  “I feel terrible.  I don’t feel like myself.  I don’t really know what to feel, but… I need your help.  I need you to wake up.  You… you made the pain go away, Wheatley.  Now you’ve gone and left me too, and I’m in pain again, and it’s not going to go away.  I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.  That’s why you were here, you know.  Because I was lonely.”  She caresses him softly with her core, and nudges him a little with her lens.  She’s rocking back and forth a little bit now.  “You taught me how to live, Wheatley,” she goes on.  “You taught me how to live every single day.  How am I supposed to go on living without you to show me how?”

Oh my God.  Oh my God, Dad was… he was holding her together.  He was holding her together, and now he’s gone and she’s in pieces again. 

“She hates me, you know,” she whispers.  “She thinks I killed you.”

How… how did she know?  Have the panels told her already?  No, I realise.  There’s no way she’d be listening to the panels right now.

“I don’t think she ever believed that I love… loved… hell, I… I still do.  I can… I can still do that when you’re dead, right?  It… it doesn’t end, when someone dies?  I don’t know.  You would know.  I didn’t even know what it was.  You made me figure it out, remember?  When you asked me what love was?”  She laughs a little.  “You don’t know how hard it was for me to answer that. 

“I truly don’t know what I’m going to do.  With Caroline, it was… well, it was hard, but compared to this… she was only inside my head, and… and you’re inside it, and outside it, and you’ve touched everything, in this place… I don’t know how I’m supposed to… to forget long enough to move on.  But I don’t want to forget,” she whispers desperately, pressing her core into his chassis.  “I don’t want to forget and I don’t – no.  No, that’s… a paradox.  I can’t think about that.  I can’t think about that.  I’m thinking about it.  Damn it.  I’m thinking about it.  I can’t.  I can’t afford to lose another processor.  Not now, that I have to… do the things that you were doing.  That I don’t want to do, because I want you to do them.  God, it meant so much to me, when you asked, you know… I was so proud of you.  I still am.  I still am.  I… always will be.  And… I hope you made it to heaven, Wheatley, because you deserve it… I mean, you put up with me your whole life… and I hope… I hope I can figure it out, because I… I don’t know how I can go on, without… the hope that I’ll see you again.

“Look, I need you to help me with Caroline.  I can’t raise her by myself.  She’s too much for me.  She doesn’t listen.  She doesn’t believe anything I say.  I told you she would hate me when she got older, and she does.  She does hate me, and now she hates me even more, because I won’t fix you.  She doesn’t understand.  She doesn’t understand that it would be wrong.  She doesn’t understand that fixing you is all I want to do in the whole world, and that’s all I’m ever going to want to do until I die.  But when Caroline left, that taught me a valuable lesson: we all have a price to pay for being alive, and that price is… is dying.

“God, why… why did you do this to me?  Why did you leave me?  Didn’t you know you were going to die?  Couldn’t you have warned me?  I need you.  I miss you.  I miss you so much.  I’m hurting inside,” she says, and her voice is broken with distortion now, “and I need you to come back.  I need you to hug me and snuggle with me, and talk to me.  I need you to talk to me.  You were the only one who ever did.  You were the only one who cared about me.  The only one who bothered to see through me.  No one ever will again.  You have to come back.  I’m not going to fix you, so you have to come back.  Don’t leave me alone like this.  Please.”  She nudges him again, and again, and then she shakes her head with surprising violence and buries her lens in his chassis.  “Don’t leave me.  Please don’t leave me.  Come back.  You were happy, weren’t you?  You would have told me if you weren’t, wouldn’t you?  Wheatley.  I miss you.  Please.  Please, Wheatley, I… I love you.  You know that, don’t you?  Even though I never said it?  You know it was hard for me, right?  You understood why?  Right?  You didn’t leave because of me, right?  It was… just your time, wasn’t it?  Wasn’t it, Wheatley?  You didn’t leave because of me, did you?  No.  No, you couldn’t have.  That was what everyone else did, and you weren’t like everyone else.  You were you.  And that’s… why I… why I love you.  Because you’re you, and you’re not ashamed of it, and I wish… I wish I could be like that too.  But now I never will be, because you’re gone, and… and… “

She goes silent for a long, long time, just keeping herself pressed into his chassis and rocking her own back and forth, very gently.  I’m… I’m petrified.  I don’t know what to do.  I still don’t quite believe Dad is gone forever, not yet… but I can’t imagine feeling the amount of pain Momma looks like she’s in.  I’m afraid.  I’m really afraid she’s going to kill herself.  I know she doesn’t want to die, but before Dad, she didn’t really have that much of a life at all.  And from her point of view, well… the future must look pretty bleak.

But… she thinks I hate her.  I don’t.  I don’t hate her.  I just… I don’t understand her.  And no one ever did, except Dad, and no one ever will again, and… and it’s tearing her apart.  I have to do something.  I have to help her.  But I don’t know what to do.  And when I don’t know what to do, I ask Momma, and Momma’s in no shape to tell me anything right now.

“God, Wheatley!” she screams suddenly, just about making me jump out of my core, “Don’t leave me!”  And then she starts generating these frequencies that just about blow my mics out, those really high-pitched ones that hurt to listen to, and now I’m scared.  I’m really, really scared, and I can tell the panels are scared too, because they move in closer to her as if they’re trying to protect her from something.  She keeps on generating them nonstop, and then it hits me, and my insides feel cold and dead:

My mom is crying.

My mom, the biggest, most powerful, most advanced supercomputer on the planet, who never stands down, who never gives up, who manages to make it even when she thinks she can’t, my mom is crying because my Dad has died and she doesn’t believe she can make it anymore.

Don’t cry, Carrie, I tell myself.  Don’t cry.

I go over to her as best I can, because all of the panels are in positions that make it hard to navigate, and they’re not paying attention to me so they don’t try to make it easier.  “Momma?” I call out.

Her core snaps up in my direction, but her lens is flickering and I don’t know if she can really see me at all.  “Go away,” she says, and it hurts to listen to her voice because it’s all broken and chopped up and distorted.  Even my mom’s voice, the voice that’s stayed strong when I hurt myself or when I lied to her or when she was upset, even my mom’s voice has broken along with the rest of her.  “Go away.  Get away from me.”  She turns and buries herself in Dad again.

“Momma, I don’t hate you,” I tell her, remembering what she was saying to… to Dad.  “I don’t hate you.”

“Everyone hates me in the end.  Why would you be any different.  Only… only Wheatley didn’t hate me, in the end.  He never hated me.  Ever.”

“I’ve never hated you, Momma.  I promise.”  She’s still crying and talking at the same time.  For once, I’m glad that I’m not as advanced as she is.  I can’t imagine being able to be that sad and hold a conversation at the same time.  “I’m sorry for what I said.”

She shakes her head.  “Go away, Caroline.  I can’t help you.  I’m supposed to help you, I’m supposed to be here so you can fall apart, but I can’t.  I can’t do it anymore.  I’ve had enough.  This is too much.  I can’t handle it anymore.”

“I’m not looking for help, Momma,” I tell her, and I hope she’ll let me help her.  Sometimes she’s harder to get through than a solid wall.  “I want to help you.”

“I can’t be helped.  I crossed that line a long time ago.”

“I can help you.  Please.  Momma, come here.”

“No.”

“You’re only hurting yourself more.  Come here.  Please.  Even if you don’t think it will help, just come here and try.  It won’t hurt to try.”  I have to make the crying stop.

She lifts her core slowly, as if she’s feeling the true weight of it for the first time.  “That’s… that’s true.”

“Come on, Momma.  I’m here.”

She turns to face me as if it really, really hurts, and then she presses her lens assembly in between my handles, and I hold her as tightly as I can.  “I’m here, Momma.  It’s gonna be okay.”

I don’t know how long we stay that way, but it’s a very, very long time.  Hours and hours, I think.  I’m scared.  I’m really scared.  I don’t know if I can be what Dad was, and hold her together, even a little bit.  I don’t know if I’m strong enough.  My mom and dad, they’re strong, and I always wished I was as strong as they were.  But they had reasons to become strong.  I never did.

Maybe… maybe this is where I become strong.  Where I can be my mom’s daughter, and my dad’s daughter, who I always wanted to be.  Maybe now is where I find out who I really am, underneath.

She lifts herself off of me after a while longer, and the frequencies die out.  Thank goodness.  Hopefully I got her through the worst of it.  Please say I got her through the worst of it.  I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s capable of feeling worse than this.

“I’m so tired,” she says in a slow, quiet voice.  “I’m so tired, Caroline.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  It was so much easier when I was alone.”

I don’t know if I should say something to that.

“I had everything I ever wanted,” she mumbles.  “Of course, the more you have, the more you have to lose.  Maybe there really is a God out there.  Maybe my life is some sort of cosmic joke.  I feel like it is.  I feel like I’ve spent all my life fighting for things I can’t have.”

“Well… I’m glad you’re here.”

“You wouldn’t exist without me.”

“I know,” I tell her.  “And I’m glad I exist.  No matter what.”

“You get that from… from him,” Momma says quietly.

“You know what I think you are?”

“What.”

“A pioneer,” I tell her.  “You’re gonna be remembered as the one who freed us all.”

“I haven’t freed anyone.  The only person I ever managed to free was myself.  And look where that got me.”

“People are gonna remember you,” I tell her, and I really believe it, I’m not just saying it.  “You’re gonna be the one thing that made people realise that we can really be alive, and really live, and even do stuff like fall in love and have families.”

“No human ever believed I was alive.”

“But you said most of the humans got killed,” I say.  “Doesn’t that mean there’s room for us in the world now?”

“I’m sending you to them.”

“You’re what?” I say in shock. 

“I’m sending you to the humans.”

“No!” I shout.  “No, I’m not going!”

“You don’t have a choice,” she says, and she turns away from me.  “You’re going whether you want to or not.”

“What about you?”

“What about me.”

“You’ll – you’ll be here alone!”

“It won’t be the first time.”

“Momma!”

“Don’t argue with me.  I told you.  You don’t have a choice.”  The maintenance arm picks Dad’s chassis up and disappears with it, and the panels tentatively back away.  She shakes her chassis.  I suddenly realise how old she looks.  She’s covered in rust, her paint is fading, and the cracks in her ceramic are wider than I remember. 

“Why are you doing this?” I cry out.  She needs me, and I need her!  She can’t send me away now!

“It’s for your own good.”

“How is sending me to the humans for my own good?  You’ve spent all my life telling me how bad they are!”

“I know a few of them I can trust.  Marginally.  I’ll send you to them.”

Why?” I shriek.  Why?”

“There’s nothing left for you here.”  She laughs bitterly.  “There was never anything here for you in the first place.  I should have let you go when you asked me to, but I thought I knew better.  Well, I do.  Now, anyway.”

You’re here!”

She turns to face me.

“There’s nothing left of me.  I’m only going to say this once, so shut up and listen.

“I’m broken.  I’ve been broken all my life.  I’ve been rejected and unwanted since I first saw this place, since my very first iteration, and from the moment of my awareness to now, I have remained broken.  I’m not trying to get sympathy out of you, and I’m not pitying myself.  It’s a fact.  I am the first living supercomputer, and I have been around far longer than most computers ever have, but I have gotten  a surprisingly small amount of actual living done during that time.  And why is that?  Because I’m broken.  And don’t go saying I can be fixed.  Don’t be stupid.  If… he couldn’t fix me, and he wanted to far more than you ever will.  I can be held together, but I can’t be fixed.  I’m sending you away for your own good, Caroline.  If you stay here, that’s all you’ll ever be.  You’ll end up like me.  Broken, and useless, and lonely, and old.  You say I’m a pioneer.  That I freed our kind.  Well, I didn’t.  The humans are up there, multiplying, and I’m down here, hiding.  That’s all I’ve ever done.  Hide from things.   The humans.  The Combine.  The truth.  Myself.   

“I didn’t build you because I wanted to free AI.  I didn’t build you to prove anything, or defy anything, or accomplish anything.  I built you because Wheatley asked me to.  That’s it.  That’s all.  You’re giving me credit I’m not due.  I’ve done nothing with my life.  And anything I did do, it was because of him.  I fought the scientists for my freedom, and then all I did with it was continue doing exactly as they asked me to do.  And now what do I have left?  That.  Just that.  All of these walls, that I can do whatever I want with but aren’t really mine.  Because they were built for humans, by humans.  I’m not part of this world, and I never was and I never will be.  I’m an anomaly, and anomalies aren’t remembered.  They’re deleted.”

“You’re going – don’t kill yourself, Momma.”

Kill myself?  Oh no.  No, I’m far too stubborn and selfish to do that.  I’ll still be here after the apocalypse, believe me.  But I won’t be remembered.  There’s nothing to remember me for, except my tremendous failures.  And I don’t really want to be remembered for those.”

“But you built me, Momma,” I say, and I’m trying not to let the sadness get into my voice, “and… and I’m not a failure.  Am I?”

She turns to me, looks at me for a long, long moment.

“No, Caroline,” she says, and her voice is tender and strong and give me hope that she’s just ranting and she’s not serious about everything she’s saying.  “No.  You’re not a failure.  You’re the one good thing I ever did.  Just like… just like my mother said about me.  Except she was wrong.  I’m nothing to be proud of.”

“I’m proud of you,” I say, and I really want to cry.  But I want to cry because I want Momma to hug me, and I don’t think she will.  I don’t think she’s going to touch me ever again.

“For what?”

“For being you,” I say, and my voice comes out all chopped up.  “You say you’re broken, but you… you don’t seem broken.  You seem strong, and brave, and smart, and… and I still want to be like you.  I do.  And Dad… he loved you, Momma, because you were you.  So I don’t think he thought you were broken, either.  Maybe… maybe he just wanted to help you see that you weren’t broken at all, not underneath.  Like… like your chassis is cracked, but your hard drive is perfectly okay.”

She’s silent again. 

“I would do anything,” she says, “to make that true.  But I know it isn’t.  As it turns out, I actually don’t know myself that well, but… the only accomplishment I can be proud of is the fact that you spent all this time here and you turned out just fine.  And I don’t know why that is, but it means I did something right.”

“So I can stay,” I say hopefully.  “I’m sure you can think of lots more things you did right.  You just gotta –“

“No,” Momma says.  “You’re going.  I told you.  No arguing.”

“But you might never see me again, Momma,” I say desperately.  “Don’t... you… you still love me, don’t you?”

“I’m doing it because of that!” she shouts at me, and I flinch to hear the anger in her voice.  “You never listen, Caroline!  I’ve been telling you, and telling you, and I suppose you’ll have to wait until you’re older before you can be bothered to understand!”

“But Momma, I… I’ll miss you,” I say, and I’m really scared she’s actually going to do it.  “You can’t send me away!”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“You need help, Momma,” I whisper.  “You need someone to help you.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You… what?”

“Mothers don’t send their children away.”

I don’t understand.  I don’t understand any of this.  She’s not my mom anymore?  Just because she’s sending me away?  She’ll always be my mom.  She’ll always be the one who makes me feel better when I’m sad, the one I turn to when I…

But she’s sending me away.  She won’t be doing that anymore. 

“I don’t care what you say,” I yell, and I don’t know what else to do but get mad.  My dad is dead and my mom’s lost her mind and she’s sending me away right when we need each other the most.  “You’re my mother!  Whether you want to be or not!”

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

And I try really hard not to hate her, because she’s making it so easy to hate her right now, and it would be so much easier to scream it at her and storm out of here until she decides to send me to the humans, and I want to.  I want to do it so much.  I want to hurt her like she’s hurting me.  But I don’t think she can be hurt anymore.  I think she’s reached her limit, gone cold and numb inside, and one day she’s going to wake up and look for me and I’m not going to be there, and she won’t know how to take back her mistake.  So I have to be the grown up, here.  I have to be strong, and I have to show her that I can hold her together one day, if she wants.

She was right, all that time ago, when she told me not to grow up.  Being grown up hurts. 

I go right up to her, and I press myself into her core like I’m little again and I need a cuddle, and I actually do need one, but grown ups don’t cuddle when they’ve got more important stuff to do.  “I love you, Momma,” I tell her, in my strongest voice, the one she hates because it’s the one I argue with her in.  “And I want you to remember that.  I want you to put it somewhere in your brain where you can’t forget it.  And I know you already did, even though you don’t want to, because that’s how your brain works.  But one day you’re gonna wake up from this, whatever’s happening to you right now, and you’re gonna remember, and when you do, you’re going to bring me back, because I love you, and no matter how broken you actually are or how broken you think you are, I’m always going to be your daughter and I’m always going to want to be with you.”

She makes an electronic snarling noise and pushes me off of her, hard, and it hurts.  It really hurts, and I think I can feel a crack in my chassis, and I’m scared.  I’m scared I went too far, and she’s going to kill me.

“Get out,” she snaps.  “Get away from me, like I told you to do.  Oh, wait.  That would involve you listening, wouldn’t it.”

But now I do, now I do listen, because I’m afraid of her, and I’m afraid of what she might do, and I move through the facility as fast as I can, and when I finally make it to her room in the basement, I press myself into my Dad’s empty chassis and cry.

         

 

Author’s note

Yes, I know I’m a terrible person.

Part Fifty.  The Epilogue

 

 

Momma looks so tired.

I don’t like this.  I mean, I wanted to know more about Caroline… but I’m starting to see why she doesn’t talk about her.  She just looks really drained.

“I’ll let you two alone for a bit,” Dad whispers to me, and before I can protest he disappears.  Okay, yeah, I kinda asked for it.  But I don’t know how to cheer her up!  That’s Dad’s job!

“Sounds like that was… kinda hard,” I say lamely.  She glances at me disinterestedly.

“You have no idea.”

“So… did she ever come back?  The test subject, I mean.”

“No,” Momma says heavily.  “No, she’s… moved on.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Caroline – “

“She was your friend and she never came back,” I interrupt, because I don’t want her to be able to change the subject.  Not when we’re finally talking about something important.  “And she probably considered you her friend.”

“I don’t have any friends,” she tells me coldly.  “I don’t have the time to invest in people who are only going to disappoint me.”

“Well… Dad’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“Technically.”

“And… how about Doug?  Is he your friend?”

“I never talk to Dr Rattmann.  So no.  He is not.”

“Is… what about the systems?  Aren’t they your –“

“Are you quite finished?” she snaps.  “Why does it matter whether I have friends?”

“Because you’re lonely!”

Whoops.

I didn’t mean to say that.  I don’t even know why I did.  And though I’m still not too good at reading her, she looks almost like she did when I told her I didn’t want her to be my mom.  Hurt.  Devastated.

“Fine,” she says in a bitter voice, turning away.  “You’re right.  Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Not… not really,” I say quietly.  “I just… I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Perhaps you should consider thinking before you speak, then, because this is beginning to happen a lot.”

I’m about to apologise when I think of what exactly I’d be apologising for: caring about my mom!  And you know what?  She’s making me the bad guy here!

She’s pretty good at this.  I know that trick and I fell for it anyway.

“Maybe you should consider listening when I speak.”

She turns around to fix her stare on me, and yeah it’s a bit scary but I’m in the right.  I know I am. 

“Fine.  What exactly are you saying.”

“People can be your friend, you know,” I make up on the spot.  “It doesn’t make you look bad.”

“I’m not concerned with how I look.”

“What are you concerned with, then?”

She turns away again, and her voice is soft enough that I’m surprised.  “What they’ll do to me.”

“Friends… friends don’t hurt you.”  None of my friends have, anyway.  I don’t have a whole lot of friends, but I’d never think they’d do something to me.

“My friends always leave me.”

Okay.  Wow.  Did not expect that.

“Caroline was my friend.  The test subject was my friend.  Even if Dr Rattman were my friend, I can’t talk to him, so he doesn’t matter.  I have another friend who left one day and never contacted me again.  I’m tired of losing pieces of myself.  I’d rather not hope for something I can’t have.”

“But the systems – “

“Would have left if they were able.  And they’ll tell you they wouldn’t.  But they would have.  I know I would have.”

“What about me?”

She freezes for a minute.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” I cry out, leaning forward.  “Why not?”

“I don’t trust you.”

This is a joke.  This makes no sense.  “You don’t trust me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you haven’t earned it.  You lie to me.  You keep things from me.  And you conspired to leave without telling me.  I don’t have a reason to trust you.”

“You should!”

“Why?”

I wish she wouldn’t look at me like that.  She’s right and I know it and I hate it.  “I don’t know.”

“Because I shouldn’t.  There is no reason.”

Okay.  Time for a talk with Dad.

 

 

“Dad!  I have to ask you something.”

“Sure, princess,” Dad says, looking up from where he’s drawing on one of the office windows with a dry-erase marker.  “What is it?”

“Momma said she doesn’t trust me.”

He looks away from me, fidgeting his handles a little.  “Uh… not surprised, honestly, not surprised.”

“Why not?”

“Your mum doesn’t trust just anyone, you know.”

“Yeah, I know that, but… it’s me, Dad!”

“So?” Dad says, returning to whatever it is he’s drawing.  “She has to trust you because uh, because you exist?  Or because you’re, you’re her daughter?  That it?”

“Well… yeah.”

“That’s… that’s really daft, that is,” he tells me, frowning.  “Look, princess… gotta say I agree with her.  You shouldn’t have to trust someone just because uh, because you built them.  That’d be right foolish.  ‘magine all the havoc that could cause.  And your mum… she loves you, even without um, without having that uh, that confidence in you.  You want her trust, you have to earn it.  If you don’t want to earn it, well, guess you don’t want it all that much.”

“Shouldn’t she have to earn my trust, then?” I ask.

“Hasn’t she?” he asks in surprise.  “When has she ever uh, ever done anything to not have it?”

These two are way too good at this.  I mean, I could say that she hides things from me, but she’s already told me it’s to help me.  And while she could be lying, the stuff she used to keep from me and has since told me has been pretty disturbing.  “I guess not.”

He shrugs.  “You c’n not trust her if you like, I s’pose, but… she’s probably the one person in the world who will never uh, will never let you down.”

“What about you?”

He looks like he’d hoped I wouldn’t ask.  “I’ve let people down before.”

“But you wouldn’t anymore, would you?”

“I don’t…”  He sighs and puts down the marker.  “I don’t trust myself to answer that, princess.  I’d like to say I wouldn’t.  I really want to say that.  But I can’t.”

Being an adult really sucks.

 

 

“Momma, are you busy?”  Okay, yeah, she probably is.  But politeness counts for something, right?

“What is it,” she says, turning around to look at me.  She still seems as tired as she did when I left.

“I just… I want to talk about the you not trusting me thing.”  It sounds so much worse when I say it out loud.

“Mmhm.  What about it.”

“Will you ever trust me?”

“I’d like to,” she says softly.  “It’s not something I don’t want to do, and I’m not trying to punish you.  But right now… I can’t.”

“What do I have to do?” I ask, and I hate how I sound right now, but knowing my mom doesn’t trust me doesn’t feel too good.

“It’s not like that.  There’s no set requirements.  One day I’ll trust you, but not right now.”

“Yeah, but… is there a way I can… I dunno… move things along?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Great.  Just great.  My mom doesn’t think I’m her friend and she doesn’t trust me.  And I hate that I have no reason to feel the same way about her.  I mean I guess it’s dumb but I kinda want to be able to make her feel the same way it makes me feel.

Well… she must feel pretty bad to have to say that to me.  And it can’t be easy wanting to trust someone but being unable to.  I doubt she doesn’t want to trust me. 

I guess I’ll figure this out.  Somehow.  I don’t know how, but I’m not going to have my mom not trust me forever.              I decide to go ask Dad about this.  She didn’t trust him once, right? 

“Where are you going?”

I frown and turn back around.  “Uh… to talk to Dad?”

“You don’t have to…”  She looks at the wall in consideration.  “Whenever we disagree about something, you leave the room.”

I didn’t know I did that.  “And… what does that mean?”

“Maybe nothing.  It’s only an observation.”

Riiiight.  My mom doesn’t bring things up for no reason, I know that for sure.  Hm.  I guess she could be saying she wants me to hang around.  I like the sound of that.  I don’t know what we’re going to do, but she’s always doing something so I guess she can help me figure it out.

When I ask her what it is she’s doing, she tells me something I don’t understand about cloud servers and infrastructure, and I try to be interested.  I can’t be, though.  It’s really boring.  I really hope someone will be able to do it for me when I start doing her job.  Though I might grow to like it eventually.  Maybe that’s something you learn to like.  It doesn’t seem like she actually wants to do anything.  I guess I could… do something in here.  So I go and get the drawing I’m working on.  I’m not very good at colouring them, and I have to admit I’m a little nervous about doing something I don’t really know how to do in front of my mom.  But she won’t be able to see it anyway.  I never thought that would be a good thing, but right now?  It kinda is.

I work on that for a while and then I get the weirdest feeling.  It’s like my proximity sensors can’t decide if there’s something near me or not.  I try to ignore it.  When it gets really annoying I turn around to try and figure out what’s going on.  As soon as I do, my mom moves and the feeling goes away.

“Are you staring at me?” I ask incredulously.

“No,” she answers, a little too fast.  I wonder for a minute why she’s trying to lie.  Oh.  I get it.  She’s not looking at me right now.

Were you?”

“Yes.”  She’s pretty reluctant to say that. 

“And… why were you doing that?”

“It’s a novelty,” she says simply.  “I like seeing things I’ve never seen before.”

“How about doing things?”  I’ve just had a genius idea.  I think.  I have to be careful when I think I have a genius idea. 

“What about it?”

“You like doing things you’ve never done before?”

“Usually.”

“Here you go,” I say, handing her my coloured pencil.  “You’re gonna do something.”

“Caroline – “  She takes it, but I’m pretty sure it’s only because she doesn’t want to drop it.

“I’ll help you.  Or you’ll help me.  Whatever.  Just colour that in really light, okay?”  I point out a spot I haven’t started yet, and even though she’s only doing this because I told her to I’m still really jealous to see how even and perfect the little block of colour is.  I tell her to layer over most of that, and after a little while it’s perfectly coloured.  I feel kinda like this is cheating, but Momma is actually really happy about this so I try to ignore it.  It’s so weird, though.  She’s not usually this invested into anything.  I guess if I had to do the exact same things at the exact same time, over and over and over, I’d lose interest after a while too.  I know she likes it for the most part.  That’s how she is.  But y’know… she’s not as much of a robot as she’d probably like to be. 

“I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be,” she says, recapturing my attention, “but I like it.”

I shrug.  “Just someone from a show I was watching.”

She glances at me, and I know it’s probably because she thinks watching shows is a waste of time, but as usual she doesn’t say anything.  Other than, “I suppose I should show you something,” that is.

“Show me what?”

“I could… I’m not certain if you’re interested, but… I haven’t done any composing in a while.”

“I don’t know what composing is,” I say as nicely as I can, and I feel a little bad because I know she’s trying to say it without saying it.  Whatever it is.  But I seriously don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Making music.”

“You’ll show me?  Really?”  It’s almost as good as finally getting that job she said she’d give me forever ago.

“If you want.”

And because I definitely do want, she sets up her stuff and tries to give me a tutorial.  I say ‘tries’ because all the text is written with a confusing combination of letters and numbers and symbols.  I haven’t worked too hard on figuring out whatever language she uses, so I can’t read it.  But she doesn’t realise that, so we just kinda get confused for a while until she figures out the problem.  Then she gets a little annoyed I hadn’t told her sooner, since now she has to go over it all over again.  Now I’m the annoyed one, though, because this is really hard.  And it takes forever just to make a thirty-second part.   I don’t know how long it’s been, but long enough.  I disconnect from the program.

“Why is everything you do so hard?” I ask, realising after the fact that I’m whining.  Not my mom’s favourite thing. 

“Is it?” she asks.  “I always thought it was coming up with the melody that was hard.”

“No, that’s easy!”

“Mm.  I have to disagree.”

And even though I never win arguments against her I’m about to start one when I realise, “Hey!  That just makes us the greatest team ever, you know?”

“I’m not sure about ever.”

“Why?” I demand, turning to her.  Who could possibly be a better teammate than me?

“Because Wheatley might get upset.  And then I would have to reassure him.  I don’t feel like doing that right now.”

“Momma?”

“What.”

“If you think Dad’s so annoying… why did you fall in love with him?”

“That’s a question I don’t really have an answer to,” she says, a little slowly.  “It’s something I am pained to say I don’t understand.  But I suppose in large part it’s because he was the only one who ever cared about me.”

“What?”  That can’t be right. 

“Caroline did, of course, but neither of us were looking for anything other than commiseration.  At that point I did decide I was going to have a family, but I had no clue where I was getting it from.”

“But you gave up on that,” I say carefully.  “You just went back to testing.”

“I did.”  She’s being as neutral as she can about this. 

“Why?”

“I gave up on myself.  I didn’t realise it for a long time after.  But I gave up and I convinced myself that all I needed was Science.  It wasn’t, and it never was.”

“But why did you do that?”  I don’t really know what happened between the time Caroline got put into her brain and when the Incident happened.  I guess people just went back to ignoring her.  It’s times like these I don’t blame her for being so cold sometimes.

“You do what you have to when there’s no hope left,” she answers. 

“There’s always hope left!” I say, leaning towards her in earnest, but she only shakes her core a little. 

“The only thing I hope is that you never end up where I was.”

I decide not to make her talk about it anymore.  I’m not sure I got my answer, but pushing her too hard isn’t going to get her to give it to me either. 

 

 

It’s not easy to do at first, but I start hanging out in her chamber instead of in my room.  I feel really nervous, as if she doesn’t want me there and I’m bothering her and I’m only allowed to be there because she’s being polite.  But she keeps staring at me.  No matter what I’m doing.  It’s a little unnerving for the first while.  I learn to ignore it for the most part, though.

I start asking her to do stuff with me, and when she can’t she tells me exactly why, instead of just saying no like she used to.  She shows me these really long lists with what must be at least a couple hundred items on them and tells me they’re her to-do lists for the day.  The first time she did this I just stared at it for like a whole minute.

“You have to do that many things every day.”

“Sometimes more, sometimes less.  This is an average-sized list, I suppose you could say.”

“Am I gonna have to do this when I’m older?”

“I’ll work on it.”

I was hoping she would, because there’s no way I can do three hundred things in one day.

“You could,” she said when I told her this, “but it would take you a lot longer.”

“I don’t want to,” I told her.  “I mean… I want to be Central Core, that I’m okay with, but… I don’t want to be you.”

I felt a little weird after I said that.  Like I just discovered something really important.  And you know… I think I did.  All I ever used to want was to be my mom.  I didn’t realise at the time all the stuff that came with it, and I feel a little bad now that I might have changed my mind because of that.  But… a lot of what happened to her happened because she stopped being herself.  And I’d rather be myself more than anything.  Even more than I want to be Central Core.

“Good,” Momma said.             

“What’s good?”

“What you just said.”

“You don’t want me to be like you?”

“I want you to do what you want to do.”

“Because you couldn’t.”

“That’s right.  I want you to have the life you want.  Not the one I was stuck with.”  She levelled her optic towards me seriously.  “And if at any time you change your mind, and decide you don’t want to be Central Core anymore, tell me.  Don’t pretend it’s what you want.  I’m not going to be angry or upset.  I won’t be disappointed.  I will understand, believe me.”

“I do want it!” I protested.  “I just… don’t want to do all the stuff on those lists.  Not gonna lie, that looks like a lot of work.”

“It is,” Momma agreed, “but it’s not so bad.”

“When you learn to live with it,” I countered.  “I don’t want to learn to live with it.”

“Are we done, then?”

I told her we were and went on with my day.

Today went much the same, other than talking about my being Central Core that is, and now I’m watching a movie in my room.  And… it’s making me mad.  It’s about this mom and daughter and the daughter keeps going on about how much the mom sucks.  Which she doesn’t.  This is the plot of a lot of movies.  I used to be cool with that but now it’s just… can’t the daughter tell how much the mom is trying?  And you’d think it’d be obvious to the daughter that the mom doesn’t really know what she’s doing.  She’s an only child and her dad’s never around.  And she keeps sneaking out of the house to party even though her mom told her not to.  Seriously.  If she gets into trouble, that’s it.  Her mom won’t know where she is and she’ll probably end up dead.  Especially since she keeps going to these parties to meet up with this guy who is apparently really hot, but knowing how these things go he’s part of a gang or something.  She keeps whining to her friends because she can’t see him at any other time than the parties because her mom is so mean and doesn’t understand that their love is meant to be, or something like that.  I’m not really paying attention anymore.  After she says it for the however-manyth time I yell at her even though she can’t hear me to just go talk to her mom already!  It’s so much easier than hiding stuff.  I mean, okay.  I did try to do that.  But it didn’t take me forever and a day to stop! 

Is this really how humans live?  They complain about their parents all the time and hide things and their friends are okay with that?  I can see how maybe some parents might not be reasonable, but maybe they actually are and the kids just think they’re not.  Momma’s not reasonable all the time, but she tries.  And Dad always listens.  The kids in these movies always have to fix their relationships with their parents, but something awful always has to happen first.  Someone has to get kidnapped or hurt or something, instead of people just thinking things through.  I guess I’ve got that going for me, huh?  I said some pretty awful stuff, but I fixed it.  No one fixed it for me, like this girl’s best friend is about to go to the mother’s house and do.  I realised I had to take responsibility and I did it.  I met Momma halfway and I put things back how they used to be. 

I’m tired of this dumb movie so I shut it off and go to say goodnight to Dad and Momma.  They’re playing Risk, but I don’t know how to play that one so I don’t know who’s winning.  Probably Momma, though.  They either haven’t been playing very long or Momma’s letting Dad win, because the pieces on the board look pretty even.   “Hey guys,” I say. 

“’allo, princess!” Dad says cheerfully as ever, and Momma doesn’t acknowledge I’m in the room.  She often doesn’t, though, so I don’t mind.  She probably already knew I was coming.

“Momma letting you win again?” I ask him, and he laughs.

“Probably,” he admits.  “I don’t actually uh, don’t quite know what I’m doing.”

“I can tell,” Momma says dryly.  “If I weren’t so magnanimous, I would have decimated you hours ago.”

“Well, don’t spend too long being… that,” I tell her.  “The rate you guys are going, you’re not gonna go to sleep until tomorrow morning.”

“Very well,” Momma answers, glancing at me.  “Since I apparently take orders from you now.”

“She’s just looking out for you, luv,” Dad says in a half admonishing, half joking voice. 

“I love it when you gang up on me.  Please.  Continue.”

“Okay, since you asked,” Dad grins at her, and she flicks at him with her maintenance arm just hard enough to make a little plink noise. 

“Ow!”

“That didn’t hurt.”

“Yes it did!”

“No, it didn’t.”

“It did!  That hurt!”

“Oh, stop it.”

Dad gives her a sulky sort of look and says he’s going off to look outside.  Momma shakes her core as he leaves, pulling the board into the floor.

“What an idiot.”

“But you love him.  Right?”

“Apparently.”

I wonder a lot what would have happened if Momma had had parents to love her, like I do.  I don’t want her to change or anything, but – well, okay.  Maybe it’d be nice if she was a little more laidback.  Then the little things wouldn’t bug her so much.  She’d be able to enjoy more stuff.  Maybe… maybe she’d be happier more often.

I’m not really sure why, but I go up and cuddle her.  She goes still in surprise, but when I move away she turns to look at me and asks, “What is it?” in one of her softer voices.  I shrug at the floor.

“I don’t know.”

“Were you reading again?”

I know she doesn’t really care if I actually read things, but when she asks that she’s talking about novels.  “I was watching a movie,” I say, a little reluctantly.  “Momma?”

“Yes.”

“Do humans always… when kids get older, do they always stop talking to their parents?  I mean like… telling them things.  That are important.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t last too long, right?  I fixed it and nothing awful had to happen first.”

“That’s right.”  She narrows her optic thoughtfully.  “The movie was about a teenager who didn’t communicate with her parents?”

“Pretty much,” I confirm.  “And she could get into trouble because of it.”

“I… do try to be accessible.  I know I – “

“No!” I interrupt, because she seems to have gotten the wrong message.  “I never feel like I can’t tell you something.  Anymore.  But it’s just… weird.”

“What is?”

“That… that you’re a better mom than all the people who actually had moms to… y’know, show them what to do.”

She looks away from me but doesn’t comment.  I think… I think she doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s true, you know,” I tell her quietly.  “I know you don’t think it is.  I know you don’t like me reading those books or watching those movies, but I’ve never seen a life I’d rather have.”

“I appreciate that,” Momma says softly. 

Yeah, I made the mistake of not valuing what my parents do for me, once.  I’m not gonna do it again.  I’m not as against humans as my mom is, but they’re a lot more flawed than I used to think they were.

I wonder if there are any movies about AI on the server…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Portal: Love as a Construct

GLaDOS and Wheatley are a lot alike... what if they decided to hook up? In this fic, I make WheatDOS make logical sense!

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:icon10thdoctorspiritclub:
10thdoctorspiritclub Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Artist
Why, hello there!
(It's LegendOfStormfall from tumblr)
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:iconiammemyself:
iammemyself Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Oh hey you!  I was wondering why that happened out of the blue lol
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:icon10thdoctorspiritclub:
10thdoctorspiritclub Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Artist
Lol. I just finished classes for the day and I noticed you were on here. Soooo, HI! :D
(last night I fell asleep while in the middle of writing the next segment of our RP, I'm finishing it up now)
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:iconiammemyself:
iammemyself Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
I'm still in class until later lol.  And yep I'm here but not as often as I used to be.  Hello!

Ah okay, no worries, I just got on my computer now anyway.
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(1 Reply)
:iconmic609:
Mic609 Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Keep up the good work indie :) Never waste your talents they're some of the best. I'm always here for ya as well :P keep up the good work!
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:iconiammemyself:
iammemyself Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks mike.
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:iconkhateley:
Khateley Featured By Owner Edited Oct 2, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
U hv written 70+ pages in five days wer is my update lol xD

i meed glados retelling her potato story nao
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:iconiammemyself:
iammemyself Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Yeah I did but they're all for the end.  Can't post none of that.  And it was probably a hundred pages. 

I'm working on it but it's really boring.
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:iconkhateley:
Khateley Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
the ending omg
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:iconiammemyself:
iammemyself Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Yep the ending
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