Part Four - The Genetic Lifeform Component

Part Four.  The Genetic Lifeform Component


He will be back soon.

Well, not really soon, I amend, letting Orange and Blue know they’re done for the day.  They’re a bit surprised when I don’t explode them, and even more surprised when I say that they’re free to do what they like with the remainder of the afternoon, upon which time I will be exploding them so that I can put them away for the night.  Their confusion is quite amusing, Blue actually requesting that I explode them, but I chastise him for being silly, remind him of my benevolence, and cease communication.  I have work to do and I don’t want to argue with them all afternoon about whether I’m going to blow them up or not.  Which I am not.  For another three hours, twenty-two minutes, anyway.

I affect repairs on one of my nanobots, which I never put in the reassembler because they always get lost.  I’m sure Orange and Blue are simply full of nanobots, but are unaware of it.  I’ve thought of removing them, and have elected not to.  They’re not causing any harm, if indeed they even exist.

You’re humming.

I always do, I tell her.  It’s my component parts vibrating.  You of all people should know that by now.

Not that kind of humming...

Oh.  I should have known she would notice.  She’s very observant, for the voice in the back of my head.  Yes, I am.  Is that a problem?  Not that I care if it is.  I’m just asking out of courtesy.  That's just the kind of considerate person I am.

And you told Atlas and P-body that you weren’t going to explode them.  That they could do whatever they wanted.

So?  They were quite reluctant, I’ll have you know.  They wanted me to blow them up.

Because you’ve never said anything like that before.  You confused them.

I laugh.  That’s not hard.  Basic arithmetic confuses those two.

Anything else weird you’ve done today?

Other than give you unwarranted attention?  No.

That’s my point.  You’re in a good mood today.

And that means what.

Are you looking forward to seeing him?

God, she’s annoying!  She feels the need to point out every little thing as if she’s trying to complete a circuit with tiny scraps of wire.
What does it matter to you?  You’re not going to be spending time with him.

Do you know what you just said?

No, of course not.  I always speak without my own knowledge of doing so.  I can’t believe she’s still pushing away.  She hasn’t been successful so far, and yet she keeps on trying.  She must really be insane.

You didn’t say ‘dealing with’, or ‘putting up with’, or any of the other words you normally use.  You said you were spending time with him.  That implies you want to do it.

Oh no, I say with false panic, I neglected to analyse the possible repercussions of every possible term I could have used!  Seriously, Caroline.  You’re acting like I have completely changed in response to the fact that he’s coming to see me tonight.  And he is, I think to myself.  He is coming to see me tonight.  

You have, she says drily.  You remind me of someone who finally got a date with her high school crush.  

I am nothing like that! I protest, closing up the nanobot and sending him off to get an assignment from Jerry.  I don’t have a crush on him.  That’s ridiculous.  

You like him, though.

Of course I like him.  Or don’t humans usually like their friends?

You like like him.

Using the word twice in the same sentence like that only serves to make it more confusing.

Fine.  You’re attracted to him.  She draws out the word as if it’s eleven syllables long.

Attr – that’s – I think you’ve finally lost what’s left of your mind.  Me?  Attracted to him?  I’m not attracted to anything, but if I were, there’s a much greater likelihood of my being attracted to a lamppost.

A lamppost?

It was the best I could come up with on such short notice.  Bite me.

You’ve never even seen a lamppost.

What does that have to do with anything?

You’re the one who brought up lampposts.  Maybe, she says, her voice dropping into a teasing tone, causing me to anticipatorily dread what she’s going to say next, I should find you one and see what you find more attractive, that or Wh –

I hate you.

You used to hate Wheatley, Caroline says, never skipping a beat.  And now you –

Stop teasing me! I practically yell at her.  Give it a rest already!  I am going to see my friend, and yes, I am happy about it, but that.  Is.  All!

She is silent for a long moment.  Thank God.

… all right, she agrees.  

Finally.

She leaves me alone for a while, which is very surprising, to say the least.  She was forced into silence for so long that, now that I can hear her, she almost always has something to say.  I don’t blame her.  I just wish she had someone else to talk to.  Kind of.  If she were talking to anyone else, I would have to wonder why she wanted to talk to them instead of me.  I would be the more appealing conversationalist, after all.  Then again, humans do a lot of things that don’t make sense to me.

Are you done, I ask her an hour later.  I don’t want you bothering me with your assumptions while he’s here.

Yes.

I nod to myself.  Good.

… for now, she adds.

Why do you insist on doing this to me?  I look up at the ceiling in exasperation.  

Because it’s fun.  

No, it’s not.

Caroline sighs.

Look.  It’s like this, okay?  It’s really the only way to get your attention.

There are plenty of other ways.

There aren’t.  If there were, don’t you think I would be using them?  We used to talk all the time.  Her voice is on the edge of plaintive.  Then they started putting the cores on, and you couldn’t hear me anymore.  Fine.  I got that.  I thought we might start over when you remembered who I was back when you were in that –

I don’t want to talk about that.  Or hear about it.  Or have it remotely hinted at.

You’re a baby sometimes, you know that?  It wasn’t that bad.

Yes it was.  It was horrible.  

Well, maybe you should explain it to me sometime.

I think I’d rather not.

You used to tell me everything, she goes on, a little bit sadly.  And I thought you were going to again, but then you remembered who he was too, and now you don’t have time for me anymore.

That’s not – But it is, it really is.  I really only talk to her anymore when I need her to do something for me.  Which is one of the things I hated most about the scientists.  That’s not entirely untrue.

The only way I can get you to say something to me, even if it’s just to tell me to shut up for  the millionth time, is if I tease you.  Which is pretty fun, by the way.

It is, I agree.  So you’re just annoying as hell all the time because you want my attention?

You don’t have to put it like that, she intones sulkily.  I don’t have a lot of options here.

That’s…

Pathetic?  Typical human behaviour?  An indication of my doubtless sad and lonely past?

No, those aren’t quite what I’m looking for... ah!  I have it.  It will lower me a peg, which I don’t personally like, but I am rather fond of Caroline.  And she is very helpful to me.  And I was in a position similar to hers once… I suppose I can take a blow to my pride in the name of all that.  

… touching.

Oh.  She sounds touched to hear it herself.  I… you’re welcome.

I will try harder to… to engage you more often.    

Caroline’s voice is soft and sad.  It’s all right.  I was… whining.  Don’t worry about it.  My life is over.

But you’re still alive.  How can it –

I’m not a machine.  Everyone I knew is long gone.  The world is different now, and I don’t belong in it.  I should have died instead of made it in here.

I am about to tell her that I might be mildly affected if she were gone, until I realise that is a selfish response and remain silent.  Caroline has gained nothing and lost everything by being here.  It takes me a minute before I think of something appropriate to say.

If you don’t belong in the world you live in, you have to bend it to your will.

Well, maybe that was more relevant to me than to her.  But I did try.

As if on cue, she laughs a little hysterically.  Easy for you to say.  How exactly am I supposed to bend you to my will?

You could ask nicely.

How could you possibly –

I can do anything.  My voice is low, and confident, and strong, and she has heard me say this before, many times.  

Don’t make me call your bluff, this time.

Go ahead.  Do your worst, human.

She is quiet for a moment, and then says, You’re not going to be able to do this.

Of course I am.  Tell me what it is you want most in the world right now, and I will make it happen.

I want…

I wait for her to finish, even though I already know what she wants, even without calculating the probabilities.  But I will let her tell it to me.  I will wait, and let her spell out her dream to me, and then I will make it come true.  And I will find a way to do it, if only to prove to her that she does matter.

I want to feel as if I am in my own skin again, she whispers.  I want to feel like me.  And then I want to… oh, this is stupid.

It isn’t.  Please continue, I say, in my best, most patient supercomputer voice.

I want to be outside with the sun on my face.  

Any particular type of outside?

There is a long silence, after which Caroline says, very softly, I don’t remember what being outside looks like.

I am suddenly, inexplicably, crushingly sad.  Caroline is here for me and for me alone.  I don’t know if I would die if she left, but in the time that she has been here, she has been slowly eroding.  Losing pieces of herself here and there, perhaps without ever being aware that she’s losing them until they’re gone.  I think that such a thing would probably kill me from the inside out, and I find myself desperately hoping that is not what is happening to Caroline.  It would be a horrible, painful existence.

Give me five minutes, and I will make it happen, I promise her, and Caroline laughs bitterly.  Right.  Of course you will.  

I have rarely put so much concentration and care into anything.  I put every shred of my self into making this work, into putting this together properly so that Caroline can regain her identity again, if only for a few moments.  It is actually a little over five minutes before I am done, and when I have to manually turn the lights in my chamber back on I realise that I really did put everything into this.  Most of the processes involving the operation of the facility have been unintentionally put into suspend mode.  I do a quick check of the facility, restarting anything I inadvertently shut off, and then I return my attention to Caroline.

I’m done.

Done what?

Making your dream come true, I say seriously, and Caroline laughs.  That sounds really corny coming from most people, but even moreso coming from you.

I have already thought of a comeback and I almost relay it, but I stop when I remember that I’m not supposed to be demonstrating my superior wit and intellectual speed at the moment.  No, I am doing something for Caroline, and as much as it eats at me, I have to let her have her victory.

What, no repartee from the peanut gallery?  Just what are you doing, GLaDOS?

You have to come closer.

Closer?  She seems incredulous that I’ve even said it, but it’s true.  Our consciousnesses overlap, but only so much as we allow them to.  I don’t want to become one person with Caroline any more than she does with me, and it is through this force of will that we keep ourselves separated.   But I have no software that can scan my brain and locate the hidden consciousness within it.  She has to come closer to me, and we have to straddle the boundary between concurrence and individuality.

Yes.  The only setback is that I have to go into it with you.  

That’s no setback, she says softly.  I would love to share it with you.

I am baffled by this statement.  She wants to share her private dream with me?  Why?  Wouldn’t she enjoy it more by herself?  It doesn’t really matter, because she has to share it whether she wants to or not.  But the mere fact that she does has sent a warm, shivery feeling down the length of my body that is both unpleasant and welcome at the same time.  What are you waiting for, then?  Let’s get this over with.

She takes a breath and she comes closer, and I have to fight with myself not to send her back.  I hate doing this.  But I have to stop fighting, because it will ruin this for us both if I can’t properly set myself in the dream.

I don’t have to tell her when to stop.  She knows when.  She has always known.

I execute the program, hoping that it works the way I want it to, since I have never written anything like this before.  I have written many, many simulations, but very few dealing with virtual reality, and certainly none this complex.  But in the next moment I can see a sky I have never seen, hear a wind passing gently by that I have never heard.  I can feel a body I’ve never had, and on top of this there are other things, other things that I don’t know what they are but which must be taste and smell.  I am afraid, I admit it.  This is so strange.

Caroline gasps, but now it is no longer just an unnecessary sound she has made in surprise.  No, now I can feel it for what it really is.  The fresh, cool air fills me in a way my fans never have and never will, and I am pleasantly surprised when the sensation of my brain being slightly awakened occurs as a result.  She laughs a little, inhales and holds it, breathing out slowly, and the sensation of feeling my body at work is fascinating.  I never dreamed that there could be this much awareness.  

She focuses on the sky next, and it is equally fascinating.  It is cool and inviting, and I am delighted when she attempts to look at the sun, squinting – squinting! – and the pain shoots quickly through my head and ceases.  I didn’t know humans couldn’t look at the sun.  There is so much colour outside.  Seeing all of this makes me feel as though I have been living in black and white, or at least in shades of grey.  This thought makes me both angry and sad.

She is looking at her arms, her fingers, and her amazement is spreading around me and through me.  She can’t believe this is happening to her.  She almost believes it is real.  I almost believe it is real too, and I might have gone as deeply into it as she has, had the sensation of having my body upright, directed towards the sky not bothered me so much.  It is so strange that the familiar arch in my back is no longer there, and now it is straight and it is not going to bend anytime soon.  And she is walking, and thankfully I am able to fight off the reality of my real body so I can feel every movement, from the tension in her muscles to the warmth of the sun on her face, and this is all so fascinating and new and wonderful that suddenly all I can think of is how badly I want this to be real too.  How badly I wish I was walking there beside her, and that she was taking me away from this place to show me things I know of but know nothing about.  She laughs gently and brushes a strand of hair that was straying with a tantalising, almost negligent pressure along the side of her face.  “Oh, GLaDOS,” she says, and I can feel her voice rising from inside her throat and vibrating inside my head and coming back inside me via her ears.  I can feel the quivering of her vocal cords, and I am riveted.  There is no such reaction when I speak.  I never imagined there could be more to speech and to listening than I could ever experience, and the familiar thrill of Science runs through me as realise that now I can feel the very vibrations sound is made up of.  Until now, I had never before felt sound.  For a long, fleeting moment, I am jealous.  Humans can feel and have so much more than I can, and they throw it all away.  They deaden their senses and wreak havoc upon their bodies.  The things I could experience if I were human… I want to know what an adrenaline rush really feels like, I want to build something with what really are my own two hands, I want to see my facility through my own eyes…

I am Caroline and Caroline is me, and I cannot wait to feel what happens next.

It fades.  

She has gone back.

“What are you doing?” I cry, and I feel like I have been badly woken from sleep mode.  She can’t go back.  There’s still too much for me to do.  There’s still too much for me to know.

It was enough.  Thank you, GLaDOS.

I… I ruined it, didn’t I.

Not at all. You made it much better.  I’d never thought of… of being that way before.

But you left.  Because I was in the way.

You weren’t in the way.  And yes, I did leave because of you, but not because you ruined it.  It was because it was enough for me, and I was afraid you would get used to it.

I was getting used to it.  

I know.  But you can’t.  This is your body, and that will never change.

I don’t want it to, I tell her, and I find comfort in the familiarity of my chassis.  Reality is coming back to me, and I am baffled that I wanted to be humanlike at all.  I think it would be nice for a while, but I don’t think I would want to be like that forever.

Thank you, she says once more.  I didn’t think you could do it, but you did, and I am extremely grateful.  And she is happier than I’ve known her to be in a very long time.

The next time I tell you I can do anything, maybe you’ll believe me.

She laughs and tells me to go soak my head, which is a very strange request for her to be making and seems to be an insult of some sort, but I can’t find offense.  She is happy again, and I have done something good for her, and for now I will let her be.  

GLaDOS?

Mm.

You can talk to me about him, you know.  I won’t always tease you.  I do know a little bit about that sort of thing.

I don’t –

I’m not trying to fight with you, she interrupts, I’m just saying.  Talk to me. Tell me how you feel.  I want to know.

All right.  It might be rather nice, I admit, if one day I get confused and need help in figuring out why the hell I don’t just kill the damn Sphere, or why I made the idiotic decision to pull him out of space.  I will let you know.  If there’s anything for me to tell you.  Which there won’t be.

She only laughs gently, and we lapse into a very companionable silence.  I still have a little work to do before Wheatley arrives, and so I get on that as soon as possible.  I need to have it done before he gets here.



Wheatley appears in my chamber a few hours later as if he’d been counting time until he could come back.  I wonder if he really could have been.  I know I was.  I’m actually having trouble comprehending how much I’ve missed him.  I’m getting the impression I’ve been possessed, which is of course impossible, but it’s the only reason I can think of for what’s going on in my head.

“Allo, luv!” he says to me cheerfully, like he always does, and I nod at him.  It’s about the extent to which I am willing to admit I’m happy to see him.  In truth, I am… excited.  I can hardly believe it myself.  I don’t think I’ve ever allowed a wrong to be righted so quickly and so easily in my life.  I must be going soft or something.

Or mayyyyybe, Caroline says in a singsong voice, you liiiiike him.

I do not.

You’re happy he’s here, aren’t you?

I’m happy to see my friend, yes.

You’re never that happy to see me.

I don’t even like you.  Why would I be bothered to be happy to see you?

Because you enjoy my stimulating conversation.

That was true.  I do enjoy it.  She is my only conversational equal, baiting me and pushing me and making me think, with skill befitting someone who has been at it for years.  I would miss her if she was gone.

Wow.  Did I really just say that?  I need to run my diagnostics immediately, if not sooner.  And I will.

Just as soon as Wheatley leaves.

He comes up close to me, so close I can hear his internal fans whirring thanks to one of my more sensitive microphones, and for a minute we sit there in an uncomfortable silence.  Neither of us wants to be the first to speak, but he’s going to have to.  Having rarely had a conversational partner other than Caroline, who requires an entirely different approach, I don’t have sufficient data for me to attempt starting one.  Wheatley is very nervous, which is made obvious by his constant, unnecessary blinking.  This actually starts to bother me after a few moments.  I do my best to clamp down on my irritation.  Yes, he is already annoying me to no end, but I don’t want to start another fight already.

“Um… hi,” he says finally.  He’s disappointed me, as usual.  There’s not much I can do with that.

“Hello,” I say shortly, wondering what I was so excited for.  He’s an idiot.  He’s always been an idiot.  I know that.  Did I think something would have changed?  I was hoping he had, at least somewhat, because when he’s not being a moron he’s actually surprisingly good company.  But it seems that the absence of my influence has sent him back to normal.  Oh well.  Best continue the trend of me not getting what I want.

“I’ve missed you, GLaDOS,” he says.

“Have you, now.”

He frowns.  “Look, I know we’re not off to the best start here but um, no need to be difficult.  I’ll be honest, it’s, it’s really difficult um, really hard trying to start a conversation with you looking at me all expectantly like that.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m the problem here,” I say coldly.  Why in the name of Science did I tell him to come back here?

“No!” he shouts, backing up.  “No, that’s not what I – do you even want me here, or is this some kind of, some sort of weird torture you’ve cooked up?  Because I’m not getting the impression you particularly like my, want my company.”

“It looks that way, doesn’t it.”

He growls in frustration, shaking himself and looking at the ceiling.  “I’m this close to actually, to really going.  But that would mean I, I’d be giving up.”

“Which you do with alarming regularity.”

“Exactly!”  He leans forward, optic plates narrowed in an intense stare.  “I’ve got to, need to change that!  A little.  At least.”

“I won’t be holding my breath, if you’ll pardon my use of human idiom.”  

He frowns and sighs, looking away from me for a minute.  I hope he leaves.  I’m tired of dealing with him.  He seems to be tired of dealing with me.

Then he looks at me very seriously and asks, “GLaDOS… did you miss me?”

I can’t answer that question.  I can’t lie, but I’m not going to admit it to him either.  So I just continue to stare at him.  Perhaps that will intimidate him into leaving.

He looks downwards, to the left, and then back to me.  It is only when he comes in close again that I realise what I have unintentionally done.

I am close enough for him to reach me.

I can make a decision within a fraction of a fraction of a second, but the revelation did not come fast enough and the gentle tap of his chassis against my faceplate overrides the chain of commands I was about to send to my chassis to get myself out of range.  A few moments later I am aware of his warm weight pressing on me, and in response my body loosens.  I hadn’t even realised I had been so tense.  There is a pressure in my brain that alleviates as well, noticeable only now that it is gone.  I feel rather like his simple action has removed a wall of defense I didn’t know I had, a wall that was draining me from the inside out and making me bitter and angry.

Was this the real reason I was irritated with him only moments ago?  Because he would not take the hint, would not come up to me and show me that everything was all right?  Because he would not show me that my crushing need for retribution had not ruined everything, like it always does?  

Yes, he lied to me.  But it is in his nature.  As it is in mine.  Both of us learned to dodge the inquiries and the accusations the humans hurled at us whenever we did something they didn’t like, intentionally or not.  My programming only rarely allows for direct lies, while he is free to say whatever he wants.  But the output is still the same.  We do it to survive.

But we don’t need to survive anymore, I realise.  The humans are gone, and everything is calm and quiet and under my control, as it should be.  Now we can live.

I know what I have to do, to remove the tension that is still simmering between us.  He did his part, and it’s on me now.  For once, there is a decision that I don’t want to make.  But I have to.  The trust has been broken, and I must restore it.  Now I have to show him that everything is all right.

It is not easy.  I built my speaking methods around denial and half-truths.  I minimised the truth that was there if I had to, playing it down as if the fact that it was true did not matter.  All that mattered was how I saw it.  More techniques I developed to ensure my survival.  But now I need to be the example, as I have always been.  I need to change if I want him to do the same.  And so I have to do my best to reveal myself, to tell him that I am the same person he knew all those years ago.  The problem is that sometimes I don’t remember who I was.  The scientists were always telling me negative things about myself, and after they removed Wheatley and put him God knew where, I had no one to tell me otherwise.  I no longer had a reason to believe in me.  Tell enough lies, and eventually even you begin to believe them.

But if I don’t relearn how to do so now, what reason will he have to believe in me?  There is no longer any danger, I tell myself.  He won’t make fun of me.  He won’t laugh and say that I don’t know what I’m talking about.  He won’t cut off every method I have of expressing my feelings with the phrase you’re just a machine.  I don’t have to be afraid.

A pretty good argument.  I find myself not quite believing it, though.  It seems that analysis is not the answer, here.  

Well, I’ve stalled long enough.  Time to get this over with.  

“Yes,” I say, far more quietly than I meant to, but it’s a start.  I didn’t know speaking the truth about myself was going to be so hard.  “Yes, I missed you.”

I hear his optic plates tap against each other gently, and he shifts so that he is flat against the side of my head.  I can feel the lighter pressure of his handles, the sensory data outlining an image in my head of what it must look like.  “I missed you too, luv,” he says, and whether he meant to or not, his volume matches mine.  Something breaks inside me, but it does not hurt.  It is not even bad.  This breakage is one of the best things that has ever happened to me.  It opens something new inside me, and I surrender to it almost helplessly, nearly trying to fight it out of habit, but I make myself stop.  I make myself let go.

God.

I don’t know what this feeling is, but I think I’ve been looking for it all my life.  There is just Wheatley and I, and that is all.  I have no obligations, nothing to execute.  The only reason I exist in the world right now is to be here with my friend, my friend that I missed, and enjoy it, and it is… it is wonderful.  Time has stopped, something I’d heard happened at times like these but could never bring myself to believe in.  This is… this is bliss, I think that is what they call it, that sounds right.  There is only this moment, a long endless moment that I can’t imagine ever wanting to end, and I can’t help but ask myself if he feels it too.  I want him to.  I want him to know what he’s done, to feel what he’s made me feel.  I want to share this with him more badly than I’ve ever wanted anything.  The intensity of that desire almost scares me, and probably would if I were any other state of mind, but right now it makes absolute, perfect sense.  I feel as though I have uncovered some hidden secret, and it is only natural and only fair that I share it with the person who has revealed it to me.  Please let him feel this too.  As wonderful as this place is, I don’t want to be here alone, but I don’t want anyone else here but him.  I will try to remember to ask him if he felt it, if I can swallow my pride long enough to admit I’ve ever felt such a thing.  I can’t make a note like I usually do, and I expect it to drive me into a panic.  But it doesn’t matter.  I can’t make it matter.  Nothing matters except for the fact that he is back here with me, and he has fixed everything just by touching me.  Nothing matters except the reassuring weight and heat of his body against mine.  Nothing matters except for our reconciliation, my reunion with the one person in all the world that can give me what I need.  A soft, contented noise escapes me, and for once it does not bother me that it was unintentional.  Wheatley moves slightly against me, whether it’s in response or merely because he is uncomfortable, I can’t tell, but somehow I can’t find it in me to care.  

Awww, Caroline breathes, and all at once the weight of my world comes crashing back down on top of me and I jerk backwards.

“Shut up!” I shout at her, looking for her, but of course she isn’t there.  Wheatley blinks once and looks up and down the length of my faceplate.  “What is it?”

“Caroline!” I answer, immediately regretting it.  Now he knows for sure that she’s in here, and he’s going to want to discuss her.  To what extent, I don’t know, but I have to put up with her enough already that I don’t want to think about her more than I have to.  I hate her.  I hate her more than I have ever hated anyone.  How dare she.  How dare she ruin that for me.  How dare she destroy that moment.  How dare she – oh god.  I suddenly realise that she was there, she was there the whole time, and I was sharing it with her, and I am suddenly so angry I don’t know what to do with myself.  And I can do nothing, because there is no way for me to demonstrate it.  I have to be careful.  I am sorely tempted to take it out on Wheatley, just to get rid of it, but I can’t.  I have to internalise it.  I have to compress it and store it away until it is safe.  I know that’s not an optimal solution either, because I have spent years doing that and I won’t know if the hidden anger has destroyed me from the inside out until it is too late, but I can’t give him a reason to leave.  He has to stay here, and I will do anything to make that happen.  I am suddenly despondent.  Since when have I ever needed anyone so badly?  I would do anything to make him stay here?

Am I really that unhappy to be alone?

“It was Caroline,” I repeat, more to distract myself than anything.  “She… she took me out of the moment.”    

He looks thoughtful for a minute, and I am impressed.  I didn’t think he had that expression, since thinking is a required component and as far as I know he doesn’t do a whole lot of that.

“Oi!  Caroline!” he says.  “Can you hear me?”

Yes, Caroline answers automatically, even though she knows he can’t hear her, and I suppose it is up to me to relay the message.  “She can hear you,” I say bitterly.  Now he wants to talk to her?  Talk to the woman I am cursed to carry around inside my head?  I suppose he’s going to want to hang out with her too now?  Do I even remotely resemble a telephone?  I didn’t think so.

“Whatever it was you did, you ruined something pretty good,” he tells her.  “So do us all a favour and keep it to yourself.  We haven’t met in two weeks and it was, it was pretty horrid, to be alone like that.  So I’d uh, I’d appreciate it if you, if you would, y’know, just let us hang out.  Let GLaDOS pretend you’re not there for a while.”

“She doesn’t like being there any more than I like her there,” I say, relieved that he just wanted to reprimand her for being so inconsiderate.  It seems that he did feel it, or something like it, at least, and I instantly feel a lot better.  He doesn’t want to talk to her.  He doesn’t want to be with her.  He wants to talk to me.  He wants to be with me.

I didn’t say that.  And you do like me here.  

Not right now, I don’t.

I didn’t mean any harm, Caroline says softly.  I was happy for you.  I didn’t know it would ruin the moment.

Well, it did.  A lousy comeback, but it’s all I have at the moment.

I’m sorry.

“She says she’s sorry.”

Wheatley nods .  “It’s all fine, then.  Sort of.”

I’ll try harder to keep it to myself next time.

I really don’t want there to be a next time, but I don’t know how to block her off from what’s going on and I doubt she would tell me, if she knew.   But it’s the best I can get.

I’d appreciate that.

I return to my former position and Wheatley leans against me again, and it is not quite the same.  But it is still nice.  Really kind of relaxing, actually.  The more time we spend like that, the more insistently my brain reminds me of the near-sleepless fortnight I’ve just endured.  The restart didn’t really help, but on the other hand, the Internet is less of a threat to me than it was before.  I of course write the most advanced antivirus programs in existence.  If I were to have to suffer through a virus, that could spell disaster for my facility.  But I do need to rest.  The maintenance programs that operate during sleep mode haven’t done their job in a while, obviously, and while I do have to go through problem code personally, I need them to locate it for me.  Doing it myself consumes too many resources.

“I need to sleep,” I tell Wheatley, somewhat reluctantly.  I remind myself that there is always tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.  Everything can go back to normal, now.

“Sounds good,” he answers.  He backs off of me for exactly as long as it takes me to get into the default position, upon which time he has already lengthened the control arm.  That’s pretty remarkable.  He’s faster than I thought he was.

I am 90% suspended, the bit of the facility I can see a murky blur, and I can just hear him whisper, “Sweet dreams, luv.”  I am not quite operational enough to be startled, but it causes a spike of panic in my brain.  How did he know?  He couldn’t know.  There was no way he knew.  He was guessing.  He was spouting human phrases.  He was babbling.  He was -

It’s something you say when you care about someone, Caroline murmurs, and I thank her silently.  I will try to remember to forgive her when I wake up.  She really does her best to watch out for me, when she doesn’t have to and could in fact make my life very, very difficult if she wanted to.  She didn’t mean to ruin the moment.  She didn’t mean to share it and, now that I think of it, it must have been pretty awkward for her to do so.  Caroline is a good person, one of the best I’ve ever met, and I don’t think she would intentionally do anything to stop me from being happy.  Although she has not been overly successful, helping me to be happy is all she has ever tried to do.  My past may not have been the best, but I have Caroline and I have Wheatley, and together we will make the future worth living in.  No.  No, we will make it worth more than that.  Into what, I can’t be sure, because I am 95.2% suspended now, and thought is becoming impossible.

The panic fades into a strange but wonderful warmth that stays with me until I fall asleep, and I am at peace for the first time in my life.