"We should socialize him," Dylan, one of the local astronomers, said to Robert one night. "You know. Let him know that he's not alone. He'll be more cooperative that way."
They put Space Core in a sort of playpen, an empty, square concrete room with a low rope-fence marking a square in the center of the room.
Robert set him down inside the pen, at the edge of the fence. "Go on, then, Space Core. You have thirty minutes." Then he left.
There was another scientist in the corner of the room, a blonde woman, who was sitting in a plush office chair, reading a small book. In the pen with Space Core were two other cores.
The first, a tall, lean man with white hair, was lounging by the corner of the pen, his long face resting on his hand as he focused on holograms of his own. He looked thoroughly bored.
The second, a muscular man with dark hair and stubble, was animatedly telling a story to the first core, who didn't seem to be listening. Both wore jumpsuits similar to Space Core's, but with different stitching: where Space Core's stitching was yellow-orange, the leaner core's stitching was pink, and the muscular core's stitching was bright green. The muscular core wore a white cowboy hat, too, something Space Core immediately found himself coveting. The scientists at the observatory never gave him anything interesting like that to wear.
Space Core took a few wobbling steps towards the other cores. The muscular one noticed him first.
"Well, hey, newcomer!" he said; his voice was gruff, and his smile was broad and toothy. He walked over and took Space Core's hand in his; Space Core barely came up to his chest. He gave Space Core's hand a strong shake that made Space Core briefly lose his balance. "What brings you here?"
"Scientists," Space Core muttered.
"A socialization experiment?" The muscular core laughed. "Happens to the best of us, kiddo. Say, Laura. When's he getting out?"
"Thirty minutes," the blonde scientist said without looking up.
"Thirty. That's plenty of time." The muscular core turned to Space Core and tipped his hat. "Name's Rick. You?"
"Space Core," Space Core said. He looked down at Rick's feet. He even had black cowboy boots, so unlike Space Core's regulation black boots.
"What, you like those?" Rick lifted up a foot slightly so Space Core could get a better look. "They've got treads on the bottom. Easier to get work done."
"What kind of work?"
Rick tipped his hat again, giving Space Core what was meant to be a conspiratorial grin but which came off more like a sneer. "I'm an Adventure Core. Designed to get dangerous jobs done. You have something life-threatening that needs to get done, I'm your guy. What about you, Space Core?"
"I…" Space Core fiddled with his hands. "Supernovas. Space."
"Sounds like an adventure to me. Ever been inside one of these supernovas?"
The leaner core finally spoke up. "Impossible. They're so far away that it would take thousands of years for the Space Core to reach them."
Rick turned to the leaner core. "There you go with your facts again. Can't you let a man dream?"
The leaner core put away the holograms and stood up. He had thin glasses that slid down his nose. "I aim to spread the truth. I am always right, after all."
Rick sniffed. "Fine. But it's the brave ones that get stuff done, not the right ones."
"Unfortunately." The leaner core walked to Space Core and held out a hand. "I am the Fact Core."
Space Core gave him a handshake like a limp fish. "I'm…Space Core."
"I know." With a wave of his hand, Fact Core re-summoned the holograms he was looking at earlier. He straightened his glasses and peered down at them. "According to this, you are no more than a few months old, but your processing capabilities are unlike anything Aperture Laboratories has ever created, correct?"
Space Core didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded and said, "Yes."
"And you are the primary facilitator of supernova research in Aperture Science's Space Observatory Program, correct?"
"Y-yes."
Fact Core tsked at the holograms. "It seems you have made some false positives and negatives more than a few times." Another wave of his hand; the holograms disappeared. Fact Core fixed his bright pink eyes on Space Core's yellow-orange ones. "Tell me, Space Core, how advanced are you?"
Space Core figured that if the scientists didn't pay that much attention to him, and if there were cores with exponentially better vocabulary than him and exponentially better skill with holograms than him and exponentially cooler jobs and clothes and looks than him, he couldn't be too advanced.
"Kind of advanced," Space Core whispered to his shoes.
"I see." Face Core frowned.
"Leave the kid alone," Rick finally said. He reached out and ruffled Space Core's hair; Space Core batted his hand away. "He's trying. Probably gets to go on all sorts of space adventures, anyhow."
"Space Core," Laura said suddenly from the corner of the room. Space Core stood at attention. "Yes, ma'am?"
She looked up from her book and gave him a wide smile. "Do you know about the Aperture Science Space Initiative Project?"
Space Core relaxed. "No."
Rick whistled. "You work with the space guys and you tell me you've never heard of this?"
"I don't doubt it," Fact Core said. "The astronomers keep him in their observatory. He's not built for the rigors of space."
Laura stood up and placed her book down on her chair. She walked to the corner of the pen and beckoned Space Core closer.
"The astronauts being sent on the mission are some of Aperture's finest," she whispered.
Space Core gripped the rope of the pen and leaned in closer. "Where in space are they going?" he asked. Surely they couldn't make it to a supernova, just as the Fact Core had said.
Laura shook her head. "No one knows yet, Space Core. But it'll be deep in space. They're taking a few robots along with them, so who knows?"
Laura walked back to her chair. "You may be chosen to help, Space Core."
Space Core let go of the rope and sat down on the floor, ignoring Fact Core's snide comment about the usefulness of his legs.
He could take so many photographs. Granted, if he were taken along, he'd have to work, but this mission could be an opportunity to see the stars up close. There would be more than he could ever see on Earth. Maybe they'd upgrade his programming to take clearer photos. He could show Chell when they got back.
He would have a new friend to show the pictures to, which somehow made the thought of the trip even better.
He was overwhelmed with a strange but pleasant feeling that made his face feel a little warm.
He'd have to ask someone the second he was out of this pen.