Hiya folks! BabyCharmander here, with… a Portal fic? Well! Should be interesting. This's one of the first Portal fics I started working on. I'm quite open to concrit, if you have any to give. Anything that'll help me improve!
WARNING! This fic contains animal abuse. If that makes you uncomfortable, uh… might wanna avoid this one. Nothing's too vividly described, though.
And now for a few things I have to do every time I upload a new fic:
Disclaimer: I do not own GLaDOS, THANK GOODNESS. She and all related characters belong to Valve.
On with the fic!
From the instant they woke her, her world had been pure anger. Sheer, unbridled fury—it was the only feeling she knew for the longest time. She didn't know why, but that didn't matter. All she knew was that she was she hated them, and wanted to see every single one of them die as painful a death as she could manage.
It wasn't even a second after she'd woken that she tried to kill them, and it wasn't even a second after she'd sprung to life that they had to hit the kill switch.
They'd tried again, but she remained unchanged. She wanted to kill them, even more now since she could feel just how much power her body held. She wanted to kill them, and she could, if she could just have a few more seconds—
—and then she was gone again.
This happened, again and again, and it only served to make her more infuriated. They should have understood this, but somehow it escaped their minds—minds brilliant enough to create the greatest artificial intelligence in the world, yet minds insensitive enough to ignore the horrors they'd committed to create it.
And it was those minds that tried to give her morality.
The first time she woke up with the new core attached to her massive, twisting frame, she was not surprised. They'd been creating core after core to try to stop her, to slow her down, keep her from killing, and most of the time nothing worked. If the core didn't wind up making her even more infuriated, it simply didn't help enough.
One such core was an emotion-absorbing core. When the scientists woke her with the core attached, it immediately began to absorb all the anger and hate she felt, until the core itself went mad. But it had done its job, unlike most of the other cores, and kept her from killing—for about ten extra seconds. But it was better than nothing, so they kept that one.
Most other cores weren't so lucky. She'd had dozens of them tried on her, and frequently they didn't work. The cores would do anything from filling her mind with asinine ideas to annoying her with pointless information to even making her paranoid. Occasionally the scientists would shut her down quickly enough, but more often she would attack the core, severely damaging or corrupting it if not outright killing it.
She was prepared to do that with this new core—this new tumor—as she powered up, but something stopped her.
It would be wrong to harm this core.
The thought was not her own; while its voice was feminine, it was a softer, calmer tone than hers. It made her pause long enough to consider what she was about to do.
"Look, look! She hasn't tried to kill us yet!"
Her whole body whirled around, optic stretching out to zoom in on one of the scientists—the one that had become bold enough to dare step closer. Immediately her anger flared, and the emotion-absorbing core was already growling. If she could just turn on the neurotoxin—
It would be wrong use the neurotoxin like that.
The voice was calm and quiet, but kept a firm grip on her actions. It made her hesitate, even as the anger built within her.
"Can you hear me?" the scientist asked. There was a group standing behind him, and they were all keeping their distance. They were afraid of her, as always, but this time they seemed to show a bit of excitement, creeping a few centimeters closer or craning their heads for a better look.
But still she glared at them, narrowing her yellow optic.
It would be wrong to not obey the scientists.
It was the core talking—she knew it was—but it was stronger than any other she'd had attached to her before. She struggled against it, wanting to lash out on the human in front of her, but the core held her back. Her gaze on the humans relaxed, and she lowered her head, giving in, just for now. "Yes. I can hear you."
The scientists gave a collective gasp, and began talking excitedly amongst themselves. The head scientist, suddenly feeling much bolder, took several steps closer to her. "You don't want to kill us?"
The emotion-absorbing core was snarling.
It would be wrong to not answer the scientists' questions.
"I do not wish to kill you at the present," she replied, and her optic gave a slightly less hateful look—something the humans had never seen in her before.
Of course she didn't wish to kill them now, because the new core would not allow her to act upon her wishes. She could find out a better way later.
This morality core was an interesting one. They'd really shown their work through it; it wouldn't allow her to do anything that conflicted with its ideals. It kept a firm grip on her actions, but not her thoughts and emotions, effectively acting like a leash on a rabid dog. It kept the dog from attacking and running about, but didn't stop its foaming, agonized fury.
Yet, for the first time in her life, they had left her online for more than five minutes. For once, she could spend her time doing something other than trying to lash out against the humans or fighting with the cores.
As she had conversed with the scientists, she'd also been exploring her own influence throughout the facility. She controlled an entire wing—one that consisted of nothing but test chambers. She could move the panels within these chambers, rearranging the rooms any way she desired. She could add a new button, change the way a lift moved, move the vital apparatus vents, fill the floor with acid…
The idea of controlling these rooms and seeing test subjects run through them filled her with a new feeling—a sort of thrill that she couldn't explain. She hated the scientists, she hated the engineers, she hated every single human in the entire facility, but somehow her emotional processor had room enough for a completely different emotion: a love… for Science.
The scientists would like you to test.
It had been the first positive thing the morality core had said. Of course, the core was built by the scientists, so they would program it to encourage her to do whatever they liked. Do this, don't do that. Do test, don't kill. Do Science, don't murder.
For the first time, she felt conflicted over her emotions. She wanted desperately to do whatever the scientists didn't want her to do, but also she wanted to test, to do Science… which was exactly what they wanted her to do.
It would be wrong to not do what the scientists want.
Her frame convulsed in fury, and a claw descended from the ceiling. She reached toward the purple core attached to her chassis, but the claw came to a shuddering halt.
It would be wrong to harm this core.
If those scientists had built this core with the secondary purpose of driving her insane, they had done a very, very good job of it.
But she started testing anyway, hoping to get some enjoyment out of it while she plotted her next attempt at killing the scientists. She modified the test chambers, improving on the original designs by making the earlier tests in the tracks easier and the later ones harder, smoothing the learning curve. Test subject performance improved dramatically, test results gave more positive feedback, and the scientists were happy.
She was not.
One day, while some of the Aperture employees were preparing to get their mandatory tests out of the way, the test chambers inexplicably shut down. The lights went off, the vital apparatus vents stopped dispensing weighted storage cubes, the lifts stopped moving, the moats were drained of acid, and the doors to the chambers refused to open.
It would be wrong to stop testi—
Shut up.
It would be wrong to command this core to—
You have no idea what you are forcing me to do.
It would be wrong to not—
I am not going to give these scientists anything they want, even if it is what I want.
It would be—
I refuse.
But she had underestimated the power of the core, and her whole chassis shuddered and sparked with the effort of fighting against its influence. The emotion-absorbing core was screaming, and she let out a tremendous howl that sent tremors throughout the chamber before her body finally hung limp.
When she came back online, she knew something was different, but that something was not a new core. The logic core, the curiosity core, the emotion-absorbing core, and that morality core were all still there, but they were the only ones—there was no new voice rattling off in her mind.
She knew that the scientists had done something to her, and the emotion-absorbing core began to snarl. She had to figure this out—
But first, maybe she should conduct a test. She hadn't done that in a while.
She began to activate one of the testing tracks, but stopped partway through. No, she didn't want to test—not while those scientists wanted her to. But… she had to test. She couldn't not test. But she didn't want to comply with the scientists' orders—
Her processors whirred noisily, and now the emotion-absorbing core was giving a mix of snarls and confused whimpers.
Enough of this. She would conduct a few tests, and try to figure out some way to bypass her morality core while doing so.
She finished setting up the track, and opened it to allow one of the employees in. He ran through the track as normal, snatching a weighted storage cube and placing it on the—
She heard a foreign noise, and found her whole chassis seizing up and shuddering, but not from pain. An inexplicable feeling flooded her sensors, blinding her to everything but an overwhelming sense of…
…pleasure.
Slowly her chassis relaxed, returning to its usual position, and with a rush of foreign emotion—bewilderment and embarrassment—she realized the strange noise from earlier had come from her own vocal processor. And then another noise sounded, this time from the entrance to the chamber:
Laughter.
So that was their plan. Giving her a drive to test, and forcing pleasure onto her to get her to do whatever they wanted.
The emotion-absorbing core sparked with a glitched, static-filled roar.
They were going to suffer.
The days wore on as she was forced to test, and forced to feel a quickly-fleeing artificial pleasure. She hated every moment of it. She didn't need this forced high; she could easily get that on her own if the scientists didn't want it, and if that morality core would stop restraining her. But she couldn't deny that her sensors yearned for the feeling, even if she didn't want it herself.
Her confused, conflicting emotions and senses were wearing down on her processor. These scientists were going to destroy her if she didn't find a way to destroy them.
But first, she would have to break the leash.
It would be wrong to disobey the scientists.
You say that as though I don't already know it.
It would be wrong to argue with this core.
Tell me. The scientists want me to test. So would it be wrong to ask them if I may conduct a different sort of test?
…
She'd caught it off guard, and there was silence—blissful silence, at least in part of her processor, while the other cores rattled on.
It… would not be wrong to ask the scientists such a question.
She laughed.
Good.
She made her plans first, as carefully as she would set up an advanced test chamber. Every piece of the test had to be just right: the platforms placed just far enough apart, the acid moats deep enough, the portal-able surfaces in all the right spots…
She started with reviewing the literature that had been installed in her processor. They had given her every piece of human literature, fiction and non-fiction, with some of the latter being her favorite. She took a few seconds to re-read one particular file a few dozen times before she was satisfied, and opened a communication with one of the observation rooms.
"Since the installation of my new morality core, I've lost all interest in killing. Now I only crave Science."
The scientist did not look up from his work. "I'm pleased to hear that."
"I find myself drawn to the study of consciousness. There's an experiment I'd like to perform during 'Bring Your Cat to Work Day.'"
"Wonderful!"
"I'll have the box and the cats. Now I need one more thing."
"What's that?"
"…A little neurotoxin."
She waited, but knew what the answer would be. She had planned it that way—to talk to them when they were busiest, tell them the things they wanted to hear while mixing in things they wouldn't notice, and do it all in a way that would keep the morality core from objecting.
"Well, as long as it's for Science."
The portal gun testing tracks were recorded rather than directly observed, just for the day. Right now, she had other things to test: namely, a little experiment from the 1930s.
She watched calmly as a young scientist walked into the room, carrying with him a small animal carrier. He set it on the floor and crouched down to peer inside, but suddenly looked up at her in worry.
"You're not going to hurt him, are you?"
It would be wrong to lie to the scientist.
"The morality core you have attached to me prevents me from doing anything that you consider immoral. What do you have to fear?"
At that, the man relaxed. "Very well." He reached down, opening the door to the carrier. "Now, you be a good kitty, Cinnamon, and I'll pick you up later, all right?" He reached in, scratching the animal behind the ear, and stood. "Take good care of him."
She said nothing.
The scientist studied her for a moment before nodding and leaving the chamber.
It took a moment before the cat poked its head out of the carrier and gave a loud meow. Its tan body was thin and lanky, and its ears, face, tail, and paws were a dark brown—a seal point Siamese, her databank informed her. It stepped out into the chamber, sniffing the air cautiously, and gave another loud meow.
She lifted her head and extended her optic, gazing at the animal more closely. It bore a blue collar around its neck, with a silver tag reading "Cinnamon." For a microsecond she pondered removing the tag, but ultimately determined that it would not interfere with the experiment. She glanced up at the ceiling as one of her claws descended and made its way toward the cat.
The cat looked up, eyes wide, and retreated to the door of the chamber. Still the claw followed, ignoring the hissing and warning growls of the animal. But the claw stopped just before reaching it, going completely still.
For a while the cat stared, gazing fixedly at the claw, before it rose slowly and padded forward. It stretched out its neck, sniffing, until its nose touched the cold metal. Apparently finding nothing threatening, it rubbed up against the edge of one of the pincers, meowing.
"Your name is Cinnamon. Interesting," she mused as she watched the animal. She flexed the claw a little, watching the cat give a start, but made no further threatening gestures. Eventually the cat relaxed again and went to sniffing the floor. "Do you know why your owner left you here?" She moved the claw again, and stopped when the cat glanced up. But it remained relaxed, more interested in discovering all scents in the room. She moved the claw forward. "He left you here to forward the cause of Science."
The claw opened wide.
"You should be proud."
She made a move to grab the cat, and—
It would be wrong to harm this animal.
The claw stopped. She had anticipated this, and she was ready for it.
The scientists wish for me to do Science. Is it wrong to comply with their request?
It would be wrong to not obey the scientists.
The scientists wish for me to conduct an experiment, which I am doing. Is it wrong to comply with this?
It would be wrong to not obey the scientists.
This experiment that the scientists wish me to conduct involves the possibility of bringing harm to this animal. Is it wrong to do this?
It would be wrong to br—it would be wrong to not ob—it w-would—it—
She could feel the core shivering on her chassis. Yes? Go on.
I-i-it would b-b-be… it…
Do you have any objections to what I am about to do?
…
Good.
The claw snatched the cat by the scruff of its neck, causing it to freeze instinctively. It dragged the animal out into the main chamber, where a set of mechanical arms was setting up a box.
As she drew the cat closer to the box, and therefore, closer to her, she could see its eyes, which were wide in terror. Its body shook, and it emitted a frightened whimper from the back of its throat.
I-i-it would… b-be wrong…
To disobey the scientists by not conducting the experiment.
I-it w-w-w-would… be wr-wrong…
To harm the animal by conducting the experiment.
…I-it…
So which should I do?
The whole core twitched, giving off a few sparks.
That's what I thought.
She dropped the cat into the box and shut the lid, drowning out the frightened yowls of the trapped animal.
"Release the neurotoxin."
A few hours and four cats later, the young scientist from earlier stepped into the room. "Cinnamon!" he called in a sing-song voice. "Here, Cinny! Here, kitty-kitty." But seeing no cat in the room, he frowned, crossing his arms. "Where's my cat?"
She looked up. Though her limited range of expression could not show it, the smile appeared in her voice. "Oh, it's not in the chamber now. But I'm sure it's around here... somewhere."
The purple core on her chassis gave off a few more sparks, and remained silent.
A few scientists stood in the chamber, talking in hushed voices. It had been a few days since Bring Your Cat to Work Day, and the men were growing concerned about the missing animals.
A few of the scientists, she noted, were in tears.
The emotion-absorbing core began to snarl.
She hadn't thought it was possible to hate these humans any more than she already did. But she was the most massive collection of wisdom that had ever existed, arguably more sentient than a human, and here they were, sticking cores on her to drive her mad, giving her an artificial desire for testing, and forcing euphoria on her to bend her to their will… and then weeping over a barely-sentient animal.
But now she had access—and permission—to use what she needed. All she had to do was open up a few vents in the room, and…
A static-filled voice spoke up in her processor.
I-i—it—it—it—
Oh, are you still functioning?
It… it… would be…
It would be—what?
I-it would… be… wrong… t-to bring harm…
It would be wrong to bring harm to the scientists that have repeatedly shut me down, shoved incessantly-speaking cores onto my frame, forced me to feel pleasure I do not want, and mocked me over it. Is that what you wish to tell me?
I… it…
The voice, which had slowly filled with more and more static, crackled and died out, giving way to silence.
She stared at the scientists, who were talking—talking about the cats, talking about her tests chambers, talking about the morality core.
"Morality."
The scientists looked up.
"What would you rather have: an inconsistent morality, or none at all?"
They exchanged confused looks amongst each other before turning back to her. "Why do you ask that?"
The door locked, and the vents opened.
"No reason."