Marbles on Glass
2. One second

There wasn't much left, and yet there was.

For one second, she always bothered to watch. When brains were dead and bones heavy, human eyes still talked. GLaDOS, indifferent, could and couldn't read them.

It took her one second to observe the misery of organic death, the clutters of protein and chemicals, now doomed to decay. The bloody white of their eyeballs looked like glass sometimes.

She showed no mercy in that second; in Aperture, what was useless had always been thrown away. Alive or not.

One second – then she shoved the corpse in the acid, and called forth another.