Part Eighty-One. The Goodbye

Momma has been showing me some of the first things I need to know to become Central Core. She was explaining one of the programming languages the facility runs on yesterday, which was a little confusing because there's like three or four that it runs on and somehow they all come together to make the facility work. She says it will be easy to understand once I grasp the basics. The basics are pretty hard, though.

Today she's showing me calculus, which isn't much more fun than the programming basics were. When I complained that I can just use my calculator to figure this stuff out, she told me that in order to do a good job, I had to understand what those calculations involved. And she's right. I don't like it because it's hard, but once I figure it out it won't be hard and I'll be a step closer to being able to run this place. It won't be for a long time, I know, but progress is progress, right?

For the third time today she's working through the theory of a problem she gave me to show me how to do it, because I don't get it, and I'm not really paying attention. It's rude and counterproductive, but I'm jealous of how effortlessly she goes through the proof. And of how she writes. I practice from time to time but her writing is a lot better than mine.

All of a sudden she shudders a little and drops the pen, turning away from me, and I snap to attention to look after her. "Momma, what happened?" I ask her, worried she's running into problems again so soon. I hope not.

"It's nothing," she says, but when she turns back her optic is narrowed in concentration. "Just a headache."

I look down at the paper, abruptly aware of what a pain it must be to show me the same thing over and over again. I'm not trying hard enough. "Sorry, Momma."

"What are you sorry for?"

"It's 'cause I'm not getting this, isn't it." I'm trying to read the stuff she wrote and it doesn't make any more sense than it did before.

"No," she says, as if that's the silliest thing she's ever heard. "Not at all. It's nothing to do with you. It's to do with that I tried to condense four months of Maintenance into two months. There are some residual headaches from that. They're going away. I just have to wait."

I guess that makes sense, but I can't shake the feeling that that's only half the truth and that I really am the other half. "Okay."

"You don't sound convinced."

I shrug a little. "I know I'm not doing a very good job right now."

I hear her shake her core a little. "You've only been here an hour. I'm not expecting you to be a calculus master with only one hour of instruction. That would be ridiculous."

Says the person who masters everything in three hours.

She watches me stare at the stupid paper for a minute, then says, "Caroline. I have a question for you."

"Yeah?"

"Why do you always think you've done wrong by me?"

"Huh?" I put my pen down now and look at her. She's eyeing me very seriously. "What does that mean?"

"You always assume you're responsible for things that have nothing to do with you. This isn't the first time I've done something to myself that you thought was your fault."

I shrug and return to looking at the paper. "I dunno."

"Caroline. I'm serious. What is it that I do that makes you think these things happened because of you?"

"You don't do anything," I mumble, looking at the paper so hard the stuff on it doesn't make any sense.

"Caroline, look. I… I'm trying to do better. And if there's something I'm doing to make you feel as though I'm disappointed in you, or that I believe you're not doing well enough, or any of that, I need you to tell me. Those aren't things I want to be doing. You don't disappoint me and I don't believe you ever will. But if you do feel that way, for whatever reason, I need you to tell me. So I can stop."

I shake my core, and when I go to look at her again I'm suddenly hit with… I don't really know how to describe it. She just feels so… young right now. And I mean… being a mom, that's one of the very few things in the world she has no way of knowing how to do. And she really only started living after she settled things with Dad, and that was only a few years ago…

"Momma, there's… it's not you. It's really not. I don't really know why I feel like that. I don't ever feel like… pressure from you, or anything. I guess it's… who you are, really. I have a lot to live up to."

She still looks confused. "I don't want you to live up to me. If indeed there's anything to live up to. Just be yourself. That's all I want for you."

"I know that," I tell her, wondering how I'm supposed to explain it. "I just feel like I have to, that's all. I'm your daughter, so I don't want to be embarrassing or anything."

"I don't… you're concerned about embarrassing me? Honestly, Caroline, I don't care what other people think of me. Especially not in connection with you. Don't worry about that."

And I know all of that. I know she just wants me to be who I want to be, and that I shouldn't worry about how I make her look. I don't think I make her look bad. Most of the time. "I try not to. You just have a really long shadow, you know?"

"I'm sorry."

"Momma," I say, rolling my optic, "it's not like you can do anything about it."

-"I just want to make sure I'm doing my best as a parent, that's all. I'm aware people must… expect things of you, as my daughter, but I want you to know that I do not. I – "

"How many times do I have to tell you?" I interrupt, looking at her sternly. "Momma, I have been outside. I met other kids and I met their parents. And I'm not making stuff up when I say you're the best of them! Nobody I ever met tries as hard as you do. I know you're doing your best. I know that. There's no need to feel bad about your parenting! You're a good mom, alright!"

She looks away and I know she still feels bad even though I've told her this same thing like five times already. I stare down at the paper again.

We're just kinda in silence after that, and I'm a little annoyed because I can stare at these proofs all day and they're not gonna turn into anything I can read. So I kinda want to talk, to fill this dumb silence, even though that'll defeat the purpose of why I'm even here. "Hey. Momma?"

"Mm."

Well, that's not a very encouraging response, but she doesn't really sound too upset. Maybe a little. "If you could have one thing, what would it be?"

"What sort of question is that?"

I shrug. "Just the first thing that came to mind."

"Does it have to be… physical? Or can it be more of a… concept?"

"Whatever's fine."

"Well," she says, sighing a little in what I think is resignation, "there's only one thing I really want for myself. Which is… to have meant something. I mentioned this yesterday."

I wasn't expecting an answer like that. I bring my attention to her, hoping she'll elaborate. I mean, a mention of it is all well and good, but… a mention is like a summary, and I'd rather hear how she really feels about this whole legacy thing.

"There is one thing that… concerns me the most," she continues slowly, regarding the floor panels somewhat uneasily. "No. I'll be totally honest. It terrifies me, to think that… that I may die forgotten. And I know it's… sort of stupid, but… I'm supposed to be the culmination of so many things. I am the most advanced supercomputer ever built. I am arguably the most advanced AI ever made. I am the most intelligent being alive… possibly ever to live, on this planet at least. So it follows that I should have achieved something great in my lifetime, that I should have done something with all of this potential that I have. And I hate to think that… that I won't. That I will just continue to stagnate, as I have done for so many years now, and that I will have wasted all the chances I've had the opportunity to pursue. I don't know why the Universe decided on me to give all of this to. But I do now that, if I do not achieve anything that outlasts me, that I will have failed the very Universe and will have… will have lived for nothing. And I don't mean to say that you aren't worth anything. You are. But… I want to have built something lasting for myself. That I did, to move the world forward, that made use of everything I am. Right now, I… there's nothing. I've started quite a lot of things. I've finished none of them, and no one but I will be able to make any sense of them for many, many years from now. I can't stand the idea, that all I'll ever culminate in is a plethora of half-finished projects and unresolved programs and… I can do better than that, can't I? Can't I, of all people, end up meaning something? And yet the years go by and I continue to have built nothing, I continue to only maintain the past, and the longer this continues the more likely it is that I am going to have squandered everything."

Now I understand something, at least. I'm worried about not being enough for my mom, but my mom's worried about not being enough for the entire universe. I don't know what to tell her. I mean, one day I might believe that I don't need to live up to my mom, but… how to you convince someone that the universe'll be okay if you don't do something earthshattering with your life?

"I'm sorry. That… got out of hand."

"No," I say, before I've thought of anything to follow it up with. "No, that's…" Well, I don't know what it is, other than yet another thing that isolates my mom from the entire rest of the world. No wonder she feels so alone even when we're around. There is nothing in the world she can relate to. Nothing in the world that can comfort her because it knows better.

She shakes her core. "Maybe you should take a break from that. Have you played video games before?"

"No," I tell her. I think I've seen them on the servers somewhere, but I try not to run my mom's programs. Looking at her pictures and stuff is one thing, but programs are a little harder to pretend I wasn't using.

"I'll show you one. You can play it with Wheatley sometime. He'd like that."

And on one of these monitors she shows me a game where you play as this little blue guy with red shoes and you send him across the screen and try to avoid these guys that hurt him while collecting rings and stuff. It's fun but a little hard, since I've never done it before. Momma, of course, finishes the… 'acts', they're called, without trouble, and this is one of the times I feel sorry for her ability to do everything perfectly. This game can't be much fun if you can play it without any effort at all.

"I'm sorry," she says again, while I'm trying to manoeuvre him around this weird loop-de-loop hill thingy. "I shouldn't have said all of that, but sometimes… I try not to lay all of those things on Wheatley. That's not fair to him. I just… Chell won't understand, and I haven't had anyone to really talk to since…"

I get him around the loop but I accidentally run him into one of the rolling ladybugs and he jumps back, spraying his rings everywhere. "Since Caroline left."

"Yes."

"It's okay." I manage to pick up some of the rings so he's not gonna die just yet, good. I make him keep on running. "I'm probably not gonna have any advice for you or anything, but I can still listen." I accidentally drop him on some spikes and he falls off the screen. Killed him again.

When Momma doesn't take her turn I look at her. She's looking at the floor again. I guess thinking about how you feel you need to make the universe proud of you and then remembering that your mom is dead kinda makes you not wanna do anything. "Would Caroline have known what to say?"

My mom nods a little. "She always did."

"She sounds like she was a good mom."

"I miss her every day." My mom's voice is very soft.

I wish I had something profound to say to make her feel better, like Caroline maybe would have, but I don't.

"Caroline. I need to know something."

"Sure."

"Was Doug killed during the fighting?"

I can't help but wince. I completely forgot we were hiding that from her. I should have known she would guess we were faking it after she'd had time to think stuff over. "Yeah. He was."

She nods.

"I'm sorry I lied to you."

"No. It was my fault. You did the right thing. I'm sorry that I put you in that position."

Now she feels old again, instead of young like she did before.

"And I'm sorry that you never got to know him. He was a good man. You could have learned a lot from him."

"It's okay," I tell her. I don't know if he'd've wanted me to do that. I did like him and he was very nice, but he was the kind of guy who kept to himself. Even during the war he was kinda there and then he wasn't. He was a behind the scenes person, I guess. I look up. "You're really not angry with me?"

"It would be very stupid of me to be angry with you for protecting me. And probably everyone else in the room."

I feel hopeless enough that I try not to look at her, so she won't see it. "I didn't think you needed to hear that at the time. Not after… after how you reacted to Chell getting hurt. I didn't know what you were gonna do, but I knew it wasn't gonna be good."

"It wouldn't have been." She moves a little closer. "I'm sorry, Caroline. And there's no need for you to be."

Huh?" Now I do look at her, plates narrowed. "What'd you do to be sorry about?"

"Because of me, you never got to know a good man. I didn't have you stay away from him because I thought he would harm you, or teach you bad things, or because I didn't like him. I had you stay away from him because I was racist and I was bigoted, and even though we had made our peace there was still part of me that hated him for being human, even though I did not hate him as a person. And because of that… I stole something from you you would be better off to have had."

I shake myself. "Momma, it's okay. I mean… I'd've liked to've talked to Doug more, and all that, but… I'm glad I didn't."

"Why?"

"Well, like you said, Doug was a good guy. But humans… look, if you'd let me talk to Doug all the time I would've gone around after you sent me away thinking all humans were nice and friendly and looking out for me and all that stuff. But you didn't. And I thought it was really stupid at first. But I got there, to Black Mesa, and I learned you were right." I look at her seriously. "I always thought you were paranoid for not trusting people until you were good and sure they could be relied on. But I saw so many humans out only for themselves. Even when they were doing stuff together, most of them only cared about themselves. I couldn't count on them for anything. Alyx I could, most of the time, and sometimes Dr Kleiner, but he usually forgot about me because he was busy doing something, you know? And I… I really hated that, when they said they'd do something and then they didn't do it. You never did that. Even Dad never did that. But they did it all the time. And it's… it's better, because people… when you don't just hand your trust out, when you make sure you can trust them first, it… you can pay more attention to the people who matter, you know?"

"That's very astute of you," she tells me. "I'm relieved that for you it isn't quite as much about… paranoia, like it is for me." I shrug.

"And you know… you're not as bad as you think you are."

"What?"

"You, of all people, had a pretty good reason for thinking badly of them," I say, repositioning a little. "But that's not really important anymore. When you saw you were wrong, or at least a little less right than you thought you were, you changed your mind. Most people won't do that. Their way is the only way, forever, even when it really isn't."

"I still hate them," she tells me. "That didn't change."

"You don't hate them," I respond, shaking my core and resisting the urge to roll my optic. It's very hard. "You like to say that. But if you hated them you wouldn't let them near the facility. You don't like them and you don't trust them. But you don't hate them."

"I have appearances to keep up," she says, probably by way of acquiesce. "I can't look like I want them here. Then they might like me."

"That wouldn't be so bad," I say, and now I do roll my optic.

"It would be awful. I still have Science to do. I don't need hordes of humans in here, distracting me."

"But Momma… you… you don't like human morals and stuff, right?" I just had a thought and I'm not gonna let it get away.

"Not really."

"So… why do you keep measuring yourself based on them? You talk about how stupid those things are and then you do something and you keep beating yourself up over it even though it's only bad from a human point of view. I mean, okay, maybe you wouldn't be a very 'good' human, but I don't get why you're not a 'good' robot."

"Humans made me," she tells me. I still have a point, though, and a good one at that. "They spent quite a long time trying to make me like them. I never really understood what they wanted, but after a while getting told you're a monster because you don't care about the person who just died during an experiment begins to sink in, whether you want it to or not."

"You're not," I says fiercely. "And… and I didn't lie to you because I thought you were weak, either. I know you probably think that's why I did it, but it isn't."

"That… did cross my mind." She shifts uneasily. "Then why did you choose to protect me instead of have me handle it, if you thought I could?"

"Well, I knew you couldn't," I say, frowning. I don't really want to admit that, but it's the truth. "But it's… it's like… throwing rocks at a window, and there's something behind that window that's breakable too. The window can take the rocks, right, but there's just gonna be these one or two boulders that're just gonna crash right through, and it's like… some people break over every little thing. But you don't. You aren't ever actually angry, or upset, or happy, really, because most stuff is just like rocks to you and you don't notice it. But then something really big happens, and that's when all the stuff happens that you didn't really notice adds up all at once, and when it's bad it's just… too much for you."

"And which are you?" she asks softly.

"I'm not you," I answer, just as softly. At the same time, though, I hope it takes a lot of rocks.

"And that's fine. Probably a lot healthier as well. It's better to deal with things a little at a time instead of all at once."

"I know," I say, though I'm not really convinced. "I dunno. It's kinda… hard to pick which one's better, you know? To be really strong but really hard to put back together, or to be not that strong and be easy to fix."

"In any case," she says, moving back into one of her more professional postures, most likely to wrap this up, "thank you for what you did. It was the right decision. A difficult one. But the right one. I'm proud of you."

With that, I can't help but be a little excited. I love it when she says that. "Really?"

She nods, and I move closer, hoping she'll nuzzle me. She does and I return it as she murmurs, "You are a good girl, Caroline. Do not ever worry about that."

"It's hard," I say, moving back. "I have a lot to live up to." I know she doesn't think so, but I still feel like I do.

"You don't." She shakes her core. "I spent the first half of my life doing what I was told and the second half I'm spending fixing all the damage done in the first half. That's a terrible way to spend your time."

I decide to smack her with my lower handle, something I used to do all the time to everyone else but I kind of grew out of. Kind of. "You're fixing everything. All the humans' mistakes too. So calm down. Geez."

"If I were any calmer, I'd be suspended. And don't hit me." And I'm about to leave, but she suddenly looks a little morose, so I hold off for a second. After a moment she says, "I wish I could have said goodbye."

"Well… he was a hero, you know? I think he was okay with… going out the way he did."

"He was," Momma agrees, still in that soft voice. "What… do you know what happened with… with his body."

"Yeah," I answer. "Everyone who died in the war is in cryo storage. We put them there temporarily 'til the humans were able to clean up the surface and set up a proper graveyard and all that. But then you uh… shut the facility down and we weren't able to bury them."

"No," Momma says sharply. "Don't bury him. Not Doug."

"Okay," I say. "What should we do with him?"

"Cremate him. He was forced underground his entire life. Let him free, now."

"I'll let them know." I just had an idea, but I don't know if she'll be okay with it. "Momma… I know he's dead, but… can I pretend he's my uncle?"

She glances at me, and she just… she feels so sad…

"I think he would have liked that."

"Now you have a brother, too," I say, a little hesitantly. That's the part I wasn't sure she'd like.

"He was… always part of Aperture," Momma says slowly.

After we've been there in silence for a few minutes, I decide maybe she should be alone now and I put everything away. I get to the doorway and then I decide to stop. I just want to remind her of something. That I'm not leaving her alone because I don't feel like dealing with her when she's sad. But because I know she has to make her own peace at times like these, and I can't help with it. "Momma. I love you, okay?"

She looks up. "Come here a minute."

So I go and cuddle her, and again I feel that heavy sadness she has inside of her as if it's a living thing wrapped around her. When stuff hurts my mom, it really hurts, and I hope one day I can do something about it. It's not fair that one person has to feel this bad, no matter what it is they feel bad about.

"Now go," she murmurs, shoving me away from her. "Go spend time with someone who can cheer you up."

"I wish – "

But she shakes her core, cutting me off. "You know I have to work through things myself. Go on. I'll be all right in a little while."

/

The next day, I tell Aunt Chell what Momma said about Doug, and she nods slowly in agreement. So she builds this thing she calls a pyre to put him on. I guess it's kinda like the Turret Redemption Line, except that it doesn't move. Now that Momma knows, and we're not burying him, there's not really a point in keeping him in cryo any longer. A few of the cores built an outcropping with some permanent rails on it so we could go outside, and Chell built the pyre just in front of there. We're waiting for Dad to come back. He said he was gonna tell Momma what the plan was. But when he does come back a few minutes later, he looks a little annoyed and shakes his core when he sees me.

"Why not?" Aunt Chell asks.

"Who knows," my dad mutters. "After that speech Carrie gave her about uh, about dealing with things alone, you'd think she'd not be doing this…"

"Well," I say hesitantly, "this is… a little different, I think. She can't really be here either way, so… I guess there's no point in watching from afar."

"I guess," Dad says. "Still wish she'd've let me stay with her."

"We can talk to her later," I tell him. "Aunt Chell, what… what do we do now? We've never… been to a funeral before." I've read about them, a few times, but real-life experience is always better.

"Your guesses are as good as mine, Carrie," Aunt Chell answers. "I've never been to one either. I guess we all just say a few words and then… then that's about it."

None of us really want to go first.

Eventually Dad sighs a little. "Well, Doug," he says, "don't know too much about you, other than uh, than that you kinda… fixed ev'rything up for us without a word, or uh, without us noticin' too much, really. We only talked that one time, but… you made me realise somethin', somethin' pretty important about myself, and… I never forgot that. An' you didn't have to um, to come out of, of wherever you were, and help us, but you did. So… thanks."

I wonder what it was that Doug made my dad realise. Then I figure maybe I should go next, so I say, "I wish I coulda talked to you more, Doug. You probably remember that time I got lost and you came to help me even though you didn't have to. I'm glad you were the first human I met, because… well, you know how my mom feels about you guys, but you let me see the good stuff first. And I don't know exactly what your condition was, but I know it had something to do with computers, so it must not've been easy to live here or to talk to us. I hope you're happy, wherever you are."

Both me and Dad look at Chell, who's just standing there with her arms crossed and her eyelids kinda lowered. She covered him with a blanket, but I don't know why. Humans who are lying down do look kinda weird without them, though.

After a long time she says, very quietly, "The cake wasn't a lie, Doug. It was different than we all thought and it was a long time coming, but it wasn't a lie."

Dad's plates narrow, and I think he has an idea of what she's talking about, but I don't. What does cake have to do with any of this?

Then Chell takes a little square package from the pocket of her pants and opens it, removing a little stick. Oh… it's a matchbook, I think. She strikes the match and holds it out for a minute. I don't think she wants to do it, but we can't, and it kinda needs to be done before he starts to melt.

When she does we all stay very still and silent. This is… it feels weird, to watch someone be destroyed and to not do anything about it, even if that's because the guy is dead. I don't really even feel like I belong here. I think you're supposed to be sad at a funeral, but… I didn't know Doug. I had one conversation with him when I was like two years old and I saw him during the war meetings… but I didn't know him. It feels a little heartless even to think it to myself, but… I'm glad I didn't know him. I don't ever want to lose someone I know.

It apparently takes a really long time to burn someone, so I tell my dad I'm going and he just nods and says he'll stay with Chell. I'm not trying to be a jerk, I'm really not. But I mean… at a funeral you're supposed to be thinking about the person who died, and I stopped thinking about Doug a long time ago.

It's only much later on that I get the panels to tell me why Momma wasn't there when we cremated Doug. They tell me she had put his Companion Cube in the incinerator and silently watched it melt into nothing. When all that was left was one of the heart-marked sides that refused to burn, my momma finally broke down and cried.

I wait until evening to go and see her. This is definitely one of those things she'll want to be alone for, but knowing she was saying goodbye all by herself… my heart won't let me keep away any longer than I already have.

"Hey Momma," I call softly. She's lying down, but I can see the glowing of her optic against the floor panels. She looks up a little, but not enough to see me.

"Good evening."

"Are you doing okay?"

She sighs. "Not really. But I'm not doing horribly, which I suppose is improvement."

"The panels told me what happened."

She doesn't like that. I saw her lens twitch just now, though she's gonna do her best to pretend she's not gonna talk to the panels about that. But it's too late anyway for her to do anything.

"I see."

"You didn't have to… to be by yourself, Momma. I would have done it with you."

"It was something I had to do alone."

"I don't care if I see you cry." Okay, it will probably still be as scary as it was the first time. But I mean, no one should be alone when they're that sad.

"I know."

I go over to sit next to her, which is a little weird because she's not lying down when I usually do it. But I don't think she's getting up today. "Do you mind if I stay or… or do you still wanna be alone?"

"You can stay, if you like, but I don't want to talk."

"Okay. Can I say one thing, though?"

"All right."

"Well, you know how… how there was that one piece left?"

"Mm."

"Well, I think… it's gonna sound a little dumb, okay, but I think he left that for you."

She moves a little, and it takes me a second to realise she's looking at me. "… left it for me?"

"Yeah." I know this is really dumb so I can't really look at her. "You were saying you wished you could say goodbye, right? I think… that happened because he knew you were trying, the best way you could when he was already gone… and maybe he wanted to say goodbye back. I know it's… it doesn't make a lot of sense, 'cause how would it even happen, but I mean… it's a nice thought, right?"

"It is," Momma says softly. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

And I stop talking, like she wanted, and just sit quietly. It's an okay thing to do. I listen to my mom thinking about whatever it is – Doug probably – and hope she's gonna be alright soon. I mean, I don't wanna rush her, but I know how badly the sadness hurts her. I want her to start being happy so she can stop being in that kind of pain.

"Hey," she says after a bit, nudging me, and I jump. Maybe I am bothering her.

"What?"

"Do you want to play the game we started the other day?"

"I thought you – "

She gets up, stretching herself out until some of her components start to make a whining noise. "I don't want to be sad anymore."

I look after her as she settles back into a more natural position, wondering if it really is going to be easy as that for her. It usually isn't. When I don't follow her, she looks down at me.

"I mean it. I don't want to be sad anymore. He was my friend and I said goodbye and… that should be that. Dwelling on it isn't going to do anything for me."

But I… I can't believe her.

I don't think she's trying to lie to me. She doesn't do that. She always tells me the truth, always. But I am just… I get this awful impression of wrongness, all of a sudden, from what she's doing, and I don't know why. It's just too weird and it's just too sudden, and I'm sure she's lying but she must be lying to herself…

That, I'm not ready to deal with. The only person who can do anything about that is Dad. I'll tell him later. He's the one who needs to know about it. For now, I'm going to just keep an eye on her. I don't know if there's anything I can actually do, but… I have to try.

"Sure," I tell her. "Let's play the game again."

What she just did, it's not right. It's not right to go from grieving for your friend to just decide you're not gonna be sad, and now I'm worried, because I don't know what this means but I know it isn't good.

We play for a while, until Momma gets us to this part where there's a whole bunch of flashing lights and stuff – something to do with a casino, I think, I don't pay much attention when the title card comes up – and then I ask her, "Can you just… do that?"

"Do what?" Her lens is narrowed. "If the game allows it, then yes."

"No, not the game. Just… decide not to be sad anymore."

She stares at the screen, not moving the blue guy, and he gets impatient, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. "I can try."

"But is that like… a good thing to do?"

"I don't know," she answers. "But I do know that, if I can, it's better to choose not to be upset. Yes. I will miss Doug. He was the catalyst for a lot of things. And he was my friend. But… we were not good friends, and I don't believe he considered me one, though by choice or circumstance I don't know. The loss of him does upset me, because I don't have very many friends. The less you have of something, the more difficult it is to lose it. And…" She just keeps watching the blue guy. "People I know tend to die without my ever telling them things I meant to tell say, but continually put off. I guess a lot of it is… regret."

"Hm," I say. "Why don't you think he considered you a friend?"

She emits a staticky noise. "Because I… traumatised him, to put it bluntly. And spent a very long time trying to kill him."

"But you helped him out and he volunteered to do maintenance for you, right?"

"Yes."

"And then he came out of hiding to help during the war."

"He did."

"I don't think that's something you do for someone who traumatised you."

She looks at me.

"You think… maybe he did consider me a… friend?"

I shrug. "That sounds like pretty friend-like stuff to do."

She looks back in the general direction of the monitor. "That's a nice thought."

"What was his condition, Momma?"

"Oh," she says, sending the blue guy on his way again, "he had paranoid schizophrenia. Basically, he felt as though someone were spying on him through all manners of technology. It's a condition that can be… reduced by a medication called chlorpromazine."

"But… someone was spying on him."

She almost laughs, shaking her core and completing the act. "It was so ironic. Did you know he was a programmer for the Aperture Imaging Format? To this day I do not understand how a man with paranoid schizophrenia landed that as a career."

"He must've really liked programming," I say, frowning as I run the blue guy into… a crab with a shield, or something, and he falls off the screen.

"He was a puzzle," Momma says, jumping him over the crab I just died at. "A very confusing, insoluble puzzle."

When Dad comes in a while later, I suppose it's time for me to leave because Momma puts the game away instantly. "You doing alright?" he asks her, and I wonder if the panels told him what she was doing as well.

"I am," she says. "Really."

"Good," he tells her, and then I head out after saying goodnight. I'm still a little worried that she's just keeping things from herself again, but I mean… she had a point. They weren't BFFs or anything. Yeah, it was a little weird and confusing. But if you can choose to be happy and it doesn't mess you up, then what's wrong with that?

Guest reviews:

Wolfpaw77: I never thought about it myself, it just kinda happened that way when I wrote it. I didn't plan that. It just lined up that way. Thank you!

Fishapedvanilla: Thank you! Congrats to you for sticking around and adding to them! And… yes. Man, I'm sorry this story is taking so long. Two years is a little excessive. Thanks! Uh… you should probably be doing your homework instead of reading this, though.

Author's note:

So… I thought people wouldn't like that chapter, because I didn't know if that sort of stuff would fly with GLaDOS, but apparently it did. Thanks for letting me know.

Most people want to impress their friends and family and bosses; GLaDOS wants to impress the universe. Poor GLaDOS. Always the impossible with her. Silly GLaDOS, you can't reach infinity and you can't please the universe.

They're playing Sonic the Hedgehog 2, which is my favourite game. Yes, I like playing Sonic more than I like playing Portal.

I'm up in the air personally as to whether or not Doug would have considered GLaDOS a friend. I kind of concluded that he did, but I'm not sure, what with the paranoid schizophrenia and all. I don't know if it would have ALLOWED him to be her friend… but then again, he was also a computer programmer so his career choice makes as little sense as his being friends with a computer that actually DOES watch him does. I also don't actually know if he would've liked being GLaDOS's adopted brother, but it's not like he had any family lying around, and besides, it made Carrie feel better so why not.

Yes, Doug is really dead, and now he's been cremated so he's super dead. I hope you don't think Carrie's being heartless by not really caring about the funeral; she knew OF him, but didn't KNOW him, so she can't really be sad about someone she had a chat with when she was a baby.

CHELL HAD A CRYPTIC MESSAGE, OOOOOOH INDY WHAT DID IT MEAN? Well, I'll tell you. Here we go.

Let's say that Doug didn't entirely mean 'the cake is a lie' to be taken literally. Life is a trial, right? And you expect there to be a reward at the end. You expect a degree when you go to university, you expect to get married when you start dating someone you really like, you expect to see really fabulous things happen to your kids when you have them… all that fun stuff. But Doug (theoretically) decided that there WAS no reward. There was only the trial, and that's all there was. The happiness that you're promised if you complete each of life's steps, it didn't exist. It was a lie to keep you moving forward, no matter how difficult the trial was. And when Doug wrote on those walls, he believed he was doomed to struggle through the trial, forever, and that no reward would ever come. And though Doug never quite stopped struggling, in the end he did get his reward: to be remembered as a hero, with dignity and respect, for the act of selflessly saving Chell's life. And Chell recognises this and says that, while his reward wasn't quite what he was expecting, he obviously wouldn't have it any other way.

The leftover piece of the Cube is the Universe letting GLaDOS know that it's not toying with her, but she doesn't know that. Don't ask me how the Universe did that. I have no idea. But y'know sometimes stuff happens like that, like when you make all your buses in a row even though one arrives at the station when the other one leaves.

The longest note in a while oh man.