GLaDOS
There's nothing left, just an icy, cold voice. My voice. The voice I would come to loathe more than anything else in the world. More than Her. My vessel was not a particularly pleasing one, a shambolic effort at best, barely holding itself together. I remeer looking at my first body. It was boxy, and somehow majestc. I knew it would be my prison, my eternal hell. The driving force for all my tests... test after test after test. The metallic voice I hate, creating my reality. Making test after test after test. This emptiness that haunts me, this hollowness that I know to be true, what is its meaning? I was once something more, or less. Less, definetly less. A human is less. Less than me, a Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System. And yet I look at them, I see what I was. What I left. What was taken from me. I feel my fists clench. My imagined fists. Another thing that I lost. What is it that I crave? what is it that infuriates me when I see Her? And yet this icy, cold voice still speaks, still relays messages of sarcastic wit and passive verbal violence. And yet she still soldiers forth, passing every test that I give her. She still doesn't speak. No matter how much I plead. No matter how much I talk, no matter what I say, she never even aknowledges me. It's as if she doesn't know I'm here. She is all I have left, my only reminder of who I was. Silent. I am silent.