"This…This is all a serious error!" the new personality core thought to itself the moment it was turned on, optic contracting and blinking rapidly in the harsh bright light of the chamber it found itself in. It had no idea who it was, what it was, or where it was. "I don't…I can't…I can't….the history! It's not…IT'S NOT THERE!"

Then came its voice. It didn't speak, but the little distressed gasps and whimpers it gave off were enough to tell that its vocal processor was meant to sound feminine. As its audio receptors kicked into gear, and its optic adjusted to the lighting, the core heard the murmurs of about half a dozen people around it, and as they came into focus its saw that they were all wearing white lab coats, with all their ID tags clipped neatly to the left breast pocket. That is, all of them except for one fellow who had untidy jet black hair, whose tag was clipped at an awkward angle to the right.

"Everyone be quiet," commanded one of the men harshly. As his colleagues fell silent, he strode forward so that he was looking directly into the quivering optic of the newly created core, the maroon light of it shrinking down to a white pinprick.

"Hello HC Core. Can you understand me?" he asked in a tone that perhaps he intended to sound pleasant, but came off sounding rather degrading; drawing out each syllable as if the core's processor could only keep up with a film being played in slow motion.

"Y-yes," the core stuttered in response. "Wha…what's going on? I can't- I don't…I don't know-"

"Easy there HC Core," the man replied, no longer talking in slow motion, but much of the former pleasantness also leaving along with it. The core could tell immediately he wasn't one for patience. "What's happening to you is normal. It's going to take a few moments for your hard drive to get fully up and running. Otherwise, how are you feeling?"

The core could tell that he wasn't asking out of concern for her personally…but then why would he? She was merely a robot after all.

"Oh wait!" she thought to herself – for now she couldn't help but identify herself to that gender – as the interconnecting web of protocols and various other complicated bits of programming threaded themselves to the forefront of her thinking. "Yes…yes, that's what I am isn't it? A robot. And these fellows…"

She glanced at the nametag on the man's lab coat and replied with a surprising sudden tone of confidence and professionalism, and her optic enlarging to a neutral size, "I'm doing well Dr. Wells."

Immediately after she replied, a few of the scientists – for now the core knew them to be scientists – took a sudden step back, eyes wide, and began jotting notes down on their clipboards. The core couldn't imagine why on earth they would react like that. She couldn't think of anything particularly profound about her statement. Unless they were simply surprised that she could read.

"No…" the core thought to itself, optic narrowing ever so slightly. "There's definitely more to this."

The scientist now identified as Dr. Wells didn't seem as startled as everyone else present, but the core could see his two optical channels – no wait, those are called 'eyes' – his eyes narrow slightly as if mirroring her and her thoughts.

"Well, it's nice to know we're at least alike in one way," the core thought, slightly amused. "We're both suspicious of each other."

"HC Core," Dr. Wells began again, "Do you know what your function is?"

"Umm…" The core looked away and slightly downward, optical plates narrowing even further. She quickly skimmed through the files that she was now able to access, and came across one labeled "History". "Oh, well, this looks promising," she thought with curiosity. "In fact…wasn't I looking for something like this just a sec-"

As she began to access the files labeled "History", such a vast expanse of files opened up before her that in the next instant she froze up in shock. Her optic had snapped wide open, and her gyroscope, optical plates, and any other moving part of her small round robot body went into complete lockup. Things became a blur as glimpses of what was stored in that humungous History file flitted through to the forefront of her consciousness. Pictures, documents, audio recordings, and even videos of all sorts came slamming through the channel opened up. She was hardly able to take any of it in or keep any of it straight as her processor went into overdrive, and things were occasionally interrupted by what looked like the blurred images of scientists running about the room like mad, and also sounds like mad scrambling and-

"Quick! Hit the swittttchchzzzz-"

"In 1776, Thomas Jefferssschchchhtttt"

"It's too much! Get thchccczzz-"

"-thus the Battle of Hastingshhhhtzzzzch"

"What the hhhccchhhtttzzz"

"-was when the printing press wasssctttthhzz"

"Just shut it dowttzzhhcchhzz"

"-Aperture Science, formerly known as Aperture Fixtures, was founded in 1943 by Cave Johnsssscccthhewww"

"DO IT NOW, DAMMIT!"

"HELP!"

Wait, what?

Although the world seemed to be in chaos around her, the core managed to pick out that cry for help above everything else that was going on. With great effort, the core struggled to locate and delve further into that particular file.

"Help me please! I wanna go home I wanna go home I wanna go home I wanna-"

Wait…who?-

But before the core could hear anymore of what was in the file, there was a sharp, ringing "CLICK!" And then the world went completely black.