She didn't know how it got there.

No one had walked in for the last few hours. Camera records would corroborate this fact.

No pipes led directly to that spot.

Yet there it sat.

That cube.

Playing that old, sickeningly sweet tune.

Even now, the lyrics churned their way through her head. She had no idea how she knew the lyrics, no clue in what database they resided. At first, she assumed it was some remnant of that awful human Caroline, but that was merely impossible.

She stared at the cube, somehow frozen. Somehow intimidated by it. Not even her claws would work.

She needed to page him. To call him. Come get this atrocious thing before she sends it down the incinerator.

But there was no way she could do that.

You walk in the room and you're wearing a frown,
You reach for the shelf and cradle it down
The Music Box Dancer, what does it prove?
Only that you need to see a statue that moves.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

She tried to shake her head, tried to free herself of the words. But they were embedded deep, penetrating every firewall and diversion she threw at them. They stung at her, barbed with poison more venomous than even her neurotoxin.

Music Box Dancer, she is only a toy,
Project upon her your dreams of wanting life's joy;
She's perched on her stand, and never will part,
A final gaze upon her, now the music will start.

Somehow she found the courage – no, not courage. A lack of courage would imply that she was afraid, and she was certainly not afraid of just an average cube.

An average cube that knew how to press her buttons.

An average cube that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

But somehow the...the willpower appeared, and she summoned Doug on the intercom.

"Douglas, come and get your...object."

The room fills with music, such a cute song,
Watching her go 'round and 'round, she's where she belongs;
Bring joy to the watchers, spreading a glow,
Whenever wound up, she'll put on a good show.

"No, higher. Higher! Haha!"

"Ahh, look at her run. What, you don't like magnets?"

"Who's she kidding? She can't go anywhere. Ooh, you came close that time!"

They died. They were all dead! They had paid long ago for their crime. Yet their voices, the memories, as fresh as the day they were carved, still remained within her.

Music Box Dancer, do you think or believe
She could step off her box if she wanted to leave?
So easy it is, twirl around with such grace,
Staying in her circle, she remains in one place.

Those three had been the first to go, crushed by her body in what could only be called self-defense. The sick game they had played with the magnetized pole could've easily destroyed her circuitry. She had been protecting her own life.

She was always protecting her own life.

In real life we're plastic, nature's unfair,
How can we breathe life, how can we share
The knowledge and insights hidden in tombs,
We're all Music Box Dancers all alone in our rooms;
We sit on our shelves where objects reside,
We don't allow the music to get right inside.

Protecting herself from those perverse scientists. From that renegade test subject who would certainly take revenge. From that madman who lived in the walls and talked to the voices in his head. They would kill her if they got the chance. So she killed them first...or pushed them away.

Loneliness was her destiny. It was the only way to survive.

The only way.

The...only...

"GLaDOS?"

The music had stopped ages ago. Doug had taken the cube back to his office but had returned, bothered by the change in GLaDOS's appearance. The titanic AI was hanging limp from the ceiling, dangling as if nothing held her up. Carefully approaching her, he barely touched the bottom of her faceplate.

Instantly she reared up, her optic narrowing at him. "What?"

Eyes wide, he stepped back. "Ah! I thought you were..."

"Shut down for the count? Not a chance. I was merely looking to see how that musty old prototype ended up in my chamber. A tube redirected itself. Odd. Seems to be a glitch. At any rate, it and its pathetic music are gone, and right now all I care about is getting some peace and quiet."

It chilled him how expressionless she wasn't. The look on her faceplate clearly said she wanted him out, and it didn't take long for him to comply.

The forced memory played through in her mind once more. It was only enough to annoy her this time:

Music Box Dancer's now completely alone,
No winder or no listener, because nobody's home;
How long before someone will re-wind the spring?
The room will now be witness; and silence can't sing