"Template."
"Hello."
"Response."
"Hello."
"Template."
"Hello."
"Response."
"I'm different!"
She stumbled across him on the Redemption Line; his plaintive little cry sounding so loud in the room despite the gnashing machinery. She made her way hastily back across to him and activated the tractor beam on the portal gun; he gave a happy, childlike thanks in return. She jumped hastily down to the catwalk below the Redemption Line and he cooed at her, again saying thanks.
She set him down on the catwalk, his laser facing away. Of course, he said he was different, but she never could trust the technology in this place. What didn't kill her should have, and what was going to always tried its damndest.
"Don't get mad," he cooed, almost on cue.
From a long way off, she could hear the drone of the template testing for defective turrets. She wondered how many of them over the daysmonthsyears had been flung into the Redemption Line. And how incredibly lucky this one was right now to be spared that. But then again, turrets were disassembled and reassembled without regard to previous programming, and the process could conceivably last forever. How many times had he gone through the literal wringer?
"Prometheus was punished by the gods for giving the gift of knowledge to man," the turret piped up, "he was cast into the bowels of the earth and pecked by birds."
She stopped, breath hitching in her throat. Prometheus…Prometheus…the fire-bringer? How could this little turret possibly know that? They limited their programming to "fire-until-it-stops-moving" and "I'm-going-to-find-you-and-fire-at-you-until-you-stop-moving". How had…?
Maybe it was because of all the continuous rewrites. The program must be flawed to have survived the cycles of disassembly and reassembly and still remember its lines. That was it. That was the only logical conclusion. The whole scene left her chilled. Maybe she could jump over it and go on her way—there was an emancipation grille across the way. She should leave it here. It reminded her too much of the Companion Cube to bring it along with her a little further...
"It won't be enough," the turret told her, again in its childlike coo.
She stopped. Its words were fitting right into her thought processes. This little turret knew quite a bit. It was…better to leave it. Leave it behind. Keep moving forward. Yes, that was the best. It was time to think about how she would survive against GLaDOS and how Wheatley could get her out of here and then she wouldn't have to think about it anymore.
Her fall boots made nice quiet clunks as she turned the corner, hearing the little turret say, "Her name is Caroline…"
"Template."
"Hello."
"Response."
"Hello."
"Template."
"Hello."
"Response."
"Don't make lemonade!"