|| "Those things. They speak. They say things. They mess with you. She told me they didn't speak. But they do. And they say so much." ||
The mumbling and grumbling, it just wouldn't stop. It kept going on and on and they would never cease. They spoke about things like life and death and the meaning of life and the meaning of death and what happened after, but they never spoke to him. Almost never.
It was until it was late at night -or was it early in the morning? Alfred didn't know, he had broken his clock long ago-, that was when they spoke to him. They asked him to speak to them, they talked about Aperture and how she was manipulative and that he shouldn't listen to her. They never said her name, no, they didn't want her to hear.
Sometimes they talked about him as if he wasn't even there. They talked about his face and his hair, they talked about how he still had use of his body. They sometimes complimented him too. They said how his voice was so nice, so smooth. But Alfred never spoke.
He always wondered how they could see him, how they knew what he looked like. He wanted to say things back, tell them that their voice was lovely and that their body was nice too. But his voice always died in his throat, never coming out. Unlike theirs.
Their voice always sounded so far, so.. muffled. Like something was covering it. Alfred was scared whenever they spoke, he hated it. He hated that he had no one to speak to yet the only thing that was attempting to speak to him was the cube.
The companion cube.
It speaks.