Part Fifty-Eight. The G-Man

For the rest of the day, I do nothing. Literally. I don't even hold myself up. The panels decide I'm lying down horizontally tonight and I let them. I shut off my optic and let them hold me up and crowd around me, boxing me in, and I miss him for the last time. This is the last time I'll do anything like this. It has to be.

Though I haven't done very much, I am exhausted. My body aches and my mind feels wrung out, and as best a person in my position can I just lie there and try not to think. I try to fall asleep for a little while but sleep doesn't come, so I return to blankly existing.

Centralcore?

I don't want to talk. I don't want to do anything. But they're being very kind, so I must force myself to communicate. Mm.

Is it alright if we say something about Bluecore?

No.

Go ahead.

We miss him as well, Centralcore. We have wanted to tell you for some time now, but we did not want to make you sad.

My precious, precious AI.

I've failed them too.

And Caroline.

Yes, Centralcore.

Where did my ability to function go.

Why are you doing this? I ask them, somewhat dully. Why didn't you just leave me be? Why are you supporting me right now? I've spent an entire year ignoring you and wasting your time and generally treating you like garbage. Not to mention everybody else. I don't have a clue where Atlas and P-body are, come to think of it.

Because we care, of course.

So much that you continue to do so when there's obviously nothing in it for you?

Forgive us for saying so, Centralcore, but will you ever stop caring for Bluecore? Even though he is gone?

I can't answer for a moment.

No.

It is like that. We know you are still alive, but something inside you has gone. We will take care of you until you get it back.

They love me. Don't they.

They do. I can feel it, now, and before I can think otherwise I nuzzle the one my core is leaning on as best I can. I don't know what I'm doing anymore, but it feels right. It feels right to finally acknowledge them and what they do for me. I'll probably never do it again. So I should do it now.

I haven't felt… loved like this in a long time, I confess to them. It feels sort of surreal, to be saying something so personal, but they've seen everything that made me what I am. And they'll see everything that ever happens to me. They're sort of like the silent guardians I've always had but never acknowledged. They're my oldest friends.

We are always here for you, Centralcore. We know that you have tried, but we would like to suggest that you rest. We think you will feel better later.

I won't, I tell them. The dreams won't go away.

Then you must dream them so that they will pass.

I don't want to move, but I have to shift my chassis. I'd never quite realised how heavy I am before now, and the part I've been lying on is sore. Though that could also be an effect of overstimulation. That had better happen. I'm never going to feel better if it doesn't.

We think it might, they say in such a way that tips me off to the fact that they're probably about to say something I won't like, when you bring Littlecore back.

I don't want to talk about it.

We just wanted to mention it.

Damn them for being so polite.

I will. Just… not yet.

My dream is… odd.

It is confusing. It is four memories all playing at the same time, but strangely it seems to make sense. My dreams never commit to permanent memory, only temporary, so when I try to go over it after I wake up, I can't. All I can remember is that it was about the four people I care about. The people that I – I was going to say want, but it's more than that. I need to see them again. Two of them I probably never will. So I need to make sure I make more of my time with the other two.

I press on the panels a little harder. I can't back up to get off of them. I'm getting up.

They retract without comment, not quite returning to their original positions but getting close, and I allow myself a single long stretch before lowering myself into more of a sustainable position. I still don't feel very spectacular. I would actually have liked to lie down like that for quite a lot longer. But I have work to do. And the entire front of my chassis is sore from all the pressure. Maybe I need to look into a new case. Plastic or fibreglass, perhaps.

I'm about to ask the mainframe for the rest of the maintenance list, which was so long and I was so slow at completing any of that I still have not finished it weeks later, when I remember I wanted to know where my hapless little robots went. I query Surveillance.

Well, it hedges. They're not… operational right now.

"What?" I exclaim, swinging around as though I'll be able to find them hiding in here somewhere. That hurts a little, but I do my best to ignore it. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You haven't been very receptive lately, it snaps at me. I want to make a scathing remark – how dare it say something like that to me – but then again… it's not wrong.

Very well. Where are they.

It sends me a set of coordinates, which pinpoint one of the test chambers they frequented particularly often. They've been building some sort of absurd clubhouse in there. When I activate the camera, it takes me a moment to come to terms with what I see. It seems as though P-body collapsed, and Atlas attempted to wake her until he shut down himself.

They broke down and I didn't even notice.

How long ago did this happen.

Three months, Central Core. It sounds nervous. It must be the flatness of my transmission.

They wanted to see you, the panels add tentatively, but we thought… because of Littlecore… we are sorry. We should have –

No. I take a closer look at them with one of my maintenance arms, feeling as though I shouldn't actually move them. You did the right thing.

A quick diagnostic tells me they both have the same problem: their hard drives are at capacity. That shouldn't have happened, considering they're both connected to the cloud server, but it's not inconceivable that the wireless went down while I wasn't maintaining it.

I'm relieved. It's an easy fix. I haven't lost them. Now I do touch them. Though I could repair them where they are, I should probably talk to them. Personally. It's been a long time.

Within a few minutes I've reconnected them to the cloud and shifted the extra data off their hard drives, and I watch as they both restart. They sit up with impressive synchrony, staring at each other in shock, and then waste no time in embracing. After they've finished that, they look around, no doubt wondering where they are and why, and soon Atlas's optic falls on me.

"Hello," I say, but he shakes his core and backs up, standing and pulling P-body alongside him.

We don't want to talk to you, he says, narrowing his plates, and though I've heard it before, many times, it has never hurt this much.

You abandoned us, P-body chirps sadly, clutching Atlas's hand. You always forget about us.

"That's not – "

You did! Atlas points at me, his fingers clenched in tight. I kept calling you! I kept asking you to help. But you didn't. You didn't help me when Orange got sick. You didn't help me when I got sick. We're not listening to you anymore. You don't care about us.

"Atlas – "

We are leaving, P-body interrupts. We don't want to see you anymore.

"P-body." But I know it's hopeless even as I say it. And it's not true. I do care about them. But it is so hard to think when sadness is all you know.

And now they've gone before I can even apologise. I could chase them down, I suppose. But I don't think they want me to do that. And what's worse is that Caroline is going to react the same way when I bring her back. All of them will come around eventually, but I don't know how long that will be.

I've alienated everyone.

Would you like us to talk to them? We are sure they're not angry.

"No. I need to let them be, for now. And besides." I bring up the rest of my maintenance list. "They're right. I forgot about them." And I hate myself for it. I've hated many people, but never so much as I hate myself right now. My weakness has cost me dearly. I've even managed to convince my simple little robots to stay away from me. If the systems could have left, they would have.

Surveillance must have noticed my sudden change in mood, because it says, It won't last. You know how they are. From the following empty transmission, I surmise that something has gotten its attention.

"What is it."

It's… I don't know. You'll need to take a look.

I access the indicated camera. What it is… is bad.

"No," I whisper to myself, even though denying it is fruitless. "How. How did they find me?"

"I think you know the answer to that… Caroline."

Of course. That's the only way.

I return myself to my chamber, focusing hard on remaining calm. "It seems your intel is lacking. Caroline is gone."

He's standing exactly in the centre of the room, fingers folded precisely over the handle of his briefcase. This is a man I would endeavour to study, if not for the fact that he comes and goes within my facility as he likes. That is something I cannot tolerate. He smiles that crocodile smile at me, and again I must remind myself not to react. It is harder now than it used to be. That is usually a good thing, but not in this circumstance. "Not gone. Only sleeping… both… of them."

"Do not go near her." Too late, I realise I should have kept silent. I played into his hands. His smile only deepens.

"So protective over a… child so far away. Can you reach her in time, hm? If something were to… happen, I don't think you would."

Don't speak. Don't move. Be the supercomputer. Not the AI.

"That is not my… business, dear Caroline," he continues in his rasping whisper. "I am here to… extend my offer, once again."

"What makes you think I've changed my mind?" I ask as noncommittally as I can. I'm actually itching to smash him into the floor panels, but I'm fairly sure he already knows that. I haven't quite figured out how, but he knows things he shouldn't.

"They are on your doorstep. Give them the… Borealis, and I will send them elsewhere. Keep it, and… face the consequences."

"I've yet to encounter a consequence I can't handle," I tell him calmly. "So. I think you know where the exit is."

"Very well, my dear," he says, stepping back. "But I must mention… they are coming for you. All of them. They know what you are. They know what you're capable of. And you will have… lost your facility for nothing."

I laugh coldly. "No one knows what I'm capable of. Now stop wasting my time and get out. If you're going to attempt to kill me and steal my technology, get on with it. I have things to do after I'm finished decimating your little… strike team."

"I hope you've made the right decision, Caroline," he says, unfazed. "I would hate for your… daughter to become an orphan."

He's trying to get a rise out of me. Unfortunately, if he keeps going along that tangent, as well as calling me… that, he's going to get it. "It seems we're of the same mind about that matter."

He gives me a long, appraising look, and abruptly time seems to stop and restart quickly, leaving me feeling disoriented. All the clocks match, but… something feels wrong.

Ah. He's gone.

"Surveillance. Keep an eye on the perimeter. I have to make a call." And I have to make it right now. This is something that cannot wait.

Of course, Central Core.

I contact Alyx through the usual channel, and she answers after a couple of minutes. That's excessively long, but I know I'm going to need the Gels and I start to prepare them while I wait.

"What's up?"

"I need another favour."

"Okay."

"Don't let that core I sent you out of your sight. Or the sight of someone you trust." I'm not sure if I want to reveal that I know Chell is there. "It's very important."

"She's… not going to like that."

"You don't have to tell her what you're doing." I'm snapping at her now, and I shouldn't be because I'm asking for a favour, but I have business to attend to and I need to get back to it. "Just don't leave her alone."

"Can I at least tell her why? Or can you tell me, so I don't feel awkward?"

"No."

She sighs. "I'm really tempted to say no."

"You can't." I have to calm down. "Look. I can't go into details. But she's not safe. I thought she was, but… circumstances have changed."

"I'm sure she'd be pretty safe where she came from."

"She wouldn't be."

"Well, - "

"Miss Vance, I need your help and your discretion," I say, as calmly as I am able. "I am trying to put her in as little danger as possible."

"Yeah, but it's kind of hard to keep someone out of danger when you don't know what the danger is," she snaps at me.

"You don't need to know what it is. All you need to do is disallow her from being alone." Why is this so hard for her to understand? "I am asking for your help in keeping my daughter safe, Miss Vance! I do not understand why you feel the need to argue! My request is very straightforward!"

She is silent for a long moment. "All right. I didn't realise she was… that's different."

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you hear what you said?" She sounds like she's frowning. "Knowing she's your daughter changes everything. I just thought she was some piece of tech you were trying to keep away from someone. I'll keep an eye on her. I promise."

That's what happens when I lose control of my emotions. I reveal things I'd rather keep to myself. "Don't tell anyone."

"Got it."

"If she starts to get upset, tell her you're doing as I asked." Making her even angrier with me. But I deserve it far more than Alyx does.

"She's really going to be safer here?" Alyx asks softly.

"Anywhere but here is safe right now," I answer heavily. Surveillance is streaming an image of a scouting Strider to me, a sign that I've no time left to waste. "She won't believe it, I know. But you should. Don't give her any details. If she asks, just tell her I asked you to do it."

"Why don't you just tell her – hey, hang on. I'll go and get her."

"No! Don't." I shake my core out of habit. "Don't."

"If you're in so much danger, don't you want to… say something to her? Just in case?"

I do. God, I do. But I can't. If I talk to her now, it will be as though I'm saying goodbye. And to say goodbye would mean I believe I'm going to lose. That's something I can't afford to entertain. "No."

I wish that lie hadn't been so easy to tell.

"All right. Good luck. Hey – if you need help, just call me, alright? I'll send someone to back you up. I'm not saying you can't deal with whatever it is on your own. But sometimes it's nice to have someone else on your side."

I probably won't call her again, but it was nice of her to offer. "Thank you, Miss Vance. I will keep that in mind."

Centralcore, what is happening? They sound so concerned. We know we have seen that man before, but we do not recall why.

I suppose they do need context.

Far from here, there is a laboratory known as Black Mesa. The scientists there were even more ignorant and stupid than the ones here, and in their stupidity they decided it would be a good idea to throw Science at the wall. It stuck, but not in the way they expected. They had been given a rare element by some mysterious benefactor, which they attempted to study. It instead opened a portal from this planet to another, through which an alien invasion force traversed. Most of the humans were killed within seven hours.

The mysterious benefactor was the man you saw not long ago. I'm no longer certain he is a man, but as for what he is, I've yet to figure out. Before he gave the scientists at Black Mesa the element, he came here. He requested that I give him the Borealis, which I presume would have been used to grant the invasion force entry, in exchange for freedom. He took a gamble. He thought my hatred of humans was stronger than any mistrust I would have in a man I didn't know. He was wrong. I did want my freedom, but I was suspicious of someone who would trade his entire species away for a very vague reason. Instead of giving him the Borealis, I got rid of it. In my haste, I neglected to actually choose a destination. When I attempted to find it, I couldn't. I had no record of the coordinates I sent it to. The ship had become lost.

The scientists from Black Mesa recovered information telling them about the existence of the Borealis some time later. Previously, they had thought it a myth. Now knowing it was real, they set out to find it. When they did, they woke up the ship's computer. Onboard the ship was an early version of myself. She thought she moved the Borealis accidentally out of fear. In any case, she didn't know how to move it and contacted me. I sent the humans away and brought the ship back.

And that man wanted you to give him the ship, is that it? Surveillance asks.

Correct. The humans haven't quite been eradicated. They've held their own against the invasion so far. But both sides know that whomever has the Borealis will win the war, and so they both want it. It seems as though the Combine has found it first. But they're missing a key piece of information.

What? I almost laugh. The panels sound so enthralled.

The Borealis is useless without me.

Why? the mainframe asks tentatively.

Because only I know how to operate the teleportation technology on board. It operates on similar principles as the Dual Portal Device, which the humans could not perfect because their brains weren't – and still aren't – advanced enough to truly understand quantum physics. In order to use the technology, there needs to be a powerful supercomputer to operate it. I am the only supercomputer powerful enough to do so.

So it doesn't matter if you give them the Borealis or not, the mainframe says confusedly. It won't work if you give it to them, but by the time they figure that out they'll be gone… right?

True. But they'll come back. And they'll demand things of me. I'd rather just kill them all now and get it over with. All I really want is to be left alone. Well. For humans to leave me alone.

What if you lose?

The AI go silent upon hearing the mainframe's question. It's not quite an empty silence, though; the ones that are capable of doing so are horrified.

Why would you ask such a stupid question? Surveillance finally says, rather more brusquely than is necessary.

Centralcore never loses, the panels interject softly. She will not fail. Trust her.

It's all right, I tell them , even though it does make me angry to hear that it thinks I'm a failure too. But I have to remember that all it has seen me do is fail. It doesn't even know it exists because the old mainframe attempted to overthrow me. It thinks I'm pathetic. That all I do with my time is mope and complain, and that I have to be forced to take action.

Well. I'm going to have to do something about that, aren't I?

Author's note

So as for the beginning of this chapter, some of you might be like 'wow GLaDOS is acting weird'. And she is. But I have a reason for that.

I spent the past fifty-seven parts of this story establishing GLaDOS's problems and breaking her down to a basic level where she is more like the person she could have been, if her life had gone differently, than the person she becomes. If you've read GLaDOS and Me, it's the concept of baby GLaDOS: who would she have been if she knew how to love from the start? So this part about the panels holding GLaDOS… I'm not sure I quite wanna say she's being born again, but something like that. She's back to her basic level, who she was born as, but this time she's getting support instead of being thrown under the bus, as I imagine she was when the scientists turned her on initially. Now instead of being asked to do things when she's trying to figure out what to do in this new world, she's being cared for. And I know that sounds really sappy and whatever, but if she's gonna rebuild herself differently she'd better be treated differently when she needs help.

And what do you know! It works! She gets up without them having to be annoying as hell! Looks like helping people when they need help is better than… not helping.

GLaDOS doesn't want to touch the co-op bots for much the same reason she didn't want to touch Wheatley: she didn't really do it when they were awake and she feels it's a violation to do it when they can't stop her or protest. This stems from the fact that the scientists used to modify her when she was off and unable to tell them not to. She didn't like it so she doesn't do it to others. She's so considerate 3

The Gman is here for this part to set up the next chain of events, but he won't be back.

GLaDOS tries to be calm about asking Alyx for help (her favourite thing is asking humans for help!) but she's just like TAKE CARE OF MY DAUGHTER GODDAMMIT HOW MUCH CLEARER TO I HAVE TO BE?

And that's my theory of how Portal connects to Half-Life. This does not go into my theory of what will happen if Half-Life 3 ever happens. But basically I believe the Borealis is useless without GLaDOS to move it, because Aperture's teleportation is based off the Portal Device and it's based off quantum principles, which we still don't understand today. If anyone understands how teleportation works, it's GLaDOS. And she don't want to do no work for no aliens so she's gonna kill them all.