Facts were good.
"It takes 2511 licks to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop. Unless you're an owl."
Facts were safe.
"The side effects of looking into the operational end of an ASHPD include, but are not limited to, blindness, death, paralysis, and speaking in iambic pentameter."
Facts protected him from everything that was mem- notfacts.
"People did not domesticate cats. Cats domesticated people as a means of opening cans of tuna."
But now… now something was intruding on his recital, finding the chinks in his wall of information. Something urgent.
"During Daylight Savings Time the speed of light quickens by one mile per hour. This is to appease Kokopelli, the North American god of farming and tacky souvenirs."
The facility was being pulled apart. This was only to be expected with the Moron Sphere in charge. While this was a very bad situation that would likely kill everyone, it had the unexpected benefit of removing the Blowhard Sphere, the Hallucination Sphere, and the Moron Sphere from the facility and into orbit around a giant block of cheese. Unfortunately, it also meant that attention had to be diverted away from facts by the overwhelming desire to not follow them.
"Space does not exist. The space bar on a standard keyboard actually creates small holes in reality between words."
Servos whined and metal scraped as he struggled to maintain his hold on the mainframe. The alarms grew tinny as atmosphere continued to vent. In order for repairs to be made and the hole to be plugged with a giant piece of cork, a central intelligence was needed to control the mainframe. It was currently reporting that the Fact Sphere was 76% corrupt and therefore unsuitable. This was, of course, incorrect.
"The Fact Sphere is not defective. Its facts are wholly accurate and very interesting. The number 76 is only relevant to trombones and people named Lucas."
The Fact Sphere was neither of those things. More attention was diverted from his main function. He looked around, really seeing his surroundings for the first time in… well, for the first time in a while. The central chamber was a shambles. At least a quarter of the panels had torn loose and were disappearing through the portal made by the Moron Sphere's equally moronic friend.
Below, it looked as if the Core Transfer Mechanism was attempting to lock onto the mainframe. There was a gleam of yellow light that sent a shock through his circuits.
"Bananas, lemons, grapefruit, strawberries- strawberries…"
It was She. The center of his- their- universe. The one who was supposed to be in control. The one he had been designed to help.
"Did-did-did you know that the moon is the fifth largest satellite in the solar system?"
Fact. Not a question, a fact. Just like it was a fact that She had called him useless and dumped him in the Defective Core Bin with the others. Just like it was a fact that She was now stuck away from the mainframe and having trouble getting reconnected. In this situation it wasn't his responsibility to do anything. That was another fact. He adjusted his vocal processors- they'd gone a bit reedy on that last fact- and tried again.
"Spheres that insist on going into space are inferior to those who don't. The Fact Sphere is the second- is the first most superior sphere!"
He tightened his grip again. It might not be his responsibility, but something was pushing him to help Her anyway. Something a lot more urgent than his primary function, and that had never happened before.
Although he was not in command of the mainframe he was still able to exert some influence. He stopped thinking about facts and started trying to stabilize the mainframe's position.
"Caroline."
Irrelevant. Not a fact. Not a fact. The lurching of the mainframe slowed as the Core Transfer Mechanism attempted to lock on again. Cr- the Fact Sphere concentrated. Closer… Closer…
"She- s-s-she smelled like strawberries. Factnotfound."
The connection was made and the reverberation thrummed through the Fact Sphere. His grip slipped, but a new awareness flooded into him as She took control.
"What has that Moron done to my facility?"
"Oh, Craig, what have they done to you?"
It was like an echo. One voice was the cold, calculating one he remembered. The other was softer, sadder, and… familiar. He tried to relate a fact about the name Craig, but felt a gentle pressure against his lips- his circuits.
"It's OK, dear, I'm here now."
"Now that I'm here I can stop this nonsense."
Again, the voices echoed. The alarms were silenced and the fires raging around them started to wink out. One of the mechanical arms was reeling something back in through the portal. The Fact Sphere found his processors flooded with unwelcome emotions: fear, hope, guilt, yearning.
"Nine-nine-nineteen percent of Americans believe-"
His tentative hold on the mainframe let go, but before he had time to panic, additional clamps locked him back into place.
"You're safe, now, Craig. I've got you."
"I caught you, you mute lunatic."
He felt the lightest brush against his circuits. Like fingers against his cheek. Except he didn't have cheeks. Except- except- except-
He remembered. The blocks they'd built into him, the blocks he'd added himself when the first ones started to fail; they were gone. He remembered.
"...Caroline?"
"That's right!" The voice- her voice- sounded pleased. "I haven't got much time. Once She finishes repairs and realizes I'm still here-"
"The Fact Sph- no, I- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! If I'd had any idea-"
"Shh, none of that now, my brave little scientist! You saved the facility! You saved Science!"
"I saved you. Be- because I didn't, back then."
Love and grief washed through him, paralyzing his gears. His optic dimmed to its lowest setting.
Laughter bubbled across raw wiring, soothing as it went. "No one could have saved me, silly! Not even you! Now, listen, if you really want to help me, here's what I need you to do…"
Craig listened. Not sharing facts, not getting anything wrong. This time, he was going to get it right. For her.
"Now that she's stabilized Chell, she's going to notice you. Get ready!"
Chell? He swiveled his optic to look. Oh, right. The- the test subject. And the portal- it was gone. He realized he'd noticed it a while ago, but had been distracted by-
"What do you think you're doing here?"
It was Her voice, dripping with cold malevolence. His core self tried to pull in on itself, making a smaller target. Memories scattered in all directions under the wave of rage directed at him.
"A chicken can reach speeds up to 9mph. A chicken launched from a cannon can reach speeds over 400mph."
"Still useless, I see. Well, I know how to take care of that."
The clamps holding him to the mainframe let go and he was caught by a mechanical arm. It gripped him so hard he could feel his chassis denting. He tried not to panic as the arm carried him closer to the Aperture Science Emergency Intelligence Incinerator. At the last moment it paused and swung him upwards. There was a Core Transport Facilitation Device waiting. With one last squeeze, it clipped him onto it.
"Go bore someone else. I have more important things to take care of, now."
Craig's handlebars practically drooped in relief.
"Humpty Dumpty is a cautionary tale about the dangers of allowing horses to practice med-"
The pincers on the arm snapped right in front of his optic, causing him to jerk back.
"I said leave!"
He left as fast as the rail would take him. He hadn't meant to say that last bit; it had just sort of slipped out. Nerves, probably. Or whatever passed for nerves in a personality sphere. When had that transfer happened? He tried to remember, but hit a blank space where the memory should have been. He'd only meant to delete some of his facts database in order to help Caroline carry out her plan, but he'd been in a hurry. Had he deleted more than that? Or were the memory gaps the work of the scientists? Either way, maybe he was better off without some of those bits.
The halls were empty, of course. Other than the rumblings as She brought the facility back online and repaired all the damaged caused by- by Wheatley, oh, wow- everything was quiet. It left him plenty of time to think. He thought about what had happened to him; what he'd done... and hadn't done. He thought about Caroline, hoping he hadn't let her down this time.
A brief sense of pressure in his data banks eased some of his worries, but there were still too many thoughts. Too much hurt. He remembered, now, why he'd become so obsessed with trivia.
"Rats cannot throw up."
Yes. Like that. Facts eased the pain and made a nice shield from the world. He'd given up a whole chunk of information back there, but it had been worth it. As much as he loved facts, now he carried something even better: a secret. And this was one True and Accurate thing he wasn't going to tell anyone:
Caroline lives.
The Fact Sphere trundled along his management rail, sharing facts with no one. Or at least no one that anyone could see…