The Tale of the Siren
Once upon a time there was a mermaid who sang songs to lure away sailors and soothe their troubled hearts. When they heard it, they felt as if they would never know sorrow again. There were those who knew of her danger and covered their ears in her presence. She would drown them all the same.
Agreeing to take point proved to be a wise decision, as Wheatley couldn't sleep anyway. The medications were leaving his insides feeling molten and angry again, though the fact that he hadn't eaten very much in the past day probably wasn't helping. It was difficult to make himself eat when Muse wasn't there to force him, and he could barely stand fruit leather.
Aperture had a policy of offering cake to human test subjects, long before the supplies of cake and humans had been exhausted. He knew, on an academic level, that cake was a mixture of flour, sugar, eggs and milk with other ingredients added in. It had to be something special to motivate the humans through the test tracks. Well, he decided, that was his first goal for the long term future. He would try cake one day. If that was a reason to leave Carradon, it was as good as any other.
For a moment he was grateful for the side effects of the meds, because the sound of running water was the most soothing thing he'd heard in a long time. Mari was curled up over the knapsack, finally getting what he suspected was some much-needed rest. He'd actually come to like sleeping, one of the few human necessities he didn't find loathsome or bothersome. Perhaps he could manage a little shut-eye in one of the few lapses between waves of nausea. Just a little…
Cero! Cero, dear! Are you there?
It's Wheatley, he answered automatically seconds before he recognized the link Muse was using. Oh, there you are! You will not believe this, I got my memories back! And they're-
Delightfully awful, aren't they? I can only imagine. Grandmother told me all about you.
...Did she. Wheatley tucked his knees in under his chin, lowering his head. Well! Naturally, I figured she hadn't lost her memories or anything. What a coincidence it would be if she had! How is she? You can fix her, right?
A lot of her troubles are due to long-term issues. She was exposed to poisonous chemicals when she was younger, as I can gather from her story, and she just hasn't settled down since then. The injury she sustained earlier is superficial; she'll heal from that, but if left untreated I don't know how much time she has left. A few years, maybe. But human bodies are like that! They break down, especially if they've been through what she has. What a lovely creature she is! How brave!
...Oh. Well. Is that so. A few years and there wouldn't even be a Chell anymore. It wasn't all his fault, was it? He did wake her up and help lead her out. He really did intend to get her out! They were going to travel outside together and everything. Except…Well, then. I assume she told you the whole story. And hates me. Rightfully so, I'd say. I mean I like to think the years might have brushed things over but to be honest I'm not entirely sure it works that way. But you didn't answer my question! You can fix her, right? The lady?
There are ways. Long term medications could extend her life, or even just living somewhere healthier and safer than Carradon. But my way is nicer! She'd like it better. Anyway, I thought you wanted your voice? And as to whether she hates you, I don't know! Who can see into a human's heart? But quite possibly. Let's assume she does, so it's more beautiful and tragic that way! You broke her heart into a million pieces, stomped all over it in your mad, drunken lust for power and-
YES! Yes, I gather that is exactly what I bloody did! Thank you! Wheatley was pleased despite himself to learn he could interrupt Muse when necessary. Right. Assume she hates me. Not hard, that's basically what I've been doing. So is that why you contacted me? To gloat about hearing my awful history? Well, now you know. You're right. She's brave. A lump formed in his throat, though those ocular implants prevented him from forming actual tears. She's the bravest person I know. You'd better watch out for her…
There was a pause, during which Wheatley wondered if perhaps Muse had just forgotten to cut off the connection again, before she replied. Her tone was oddly more sober than usual. As I said before. Who can look into a human's heart and understand them? They're complicated. What I meant to tell you, as I remember now, is that the King has the box. You want to find him. You can't be far now! And when you're in his court, I won't be able to contact you at all. It isn't safe.
Safe? What...what do you mean it isn't safe? How dangerous is this King? I beat a puppet, and Mari's not afraid. She said so…! What have you got me into, you loony artist?
In retrospect it was a perfect idea to send you. Be strong and be well! The message cut off there, leaving Wheatley back in the little chamber with the graffiti and the sound of running water behind the wall. Follow the sound of that water, he reasoned, and find the King. That's what the puzzle suggested, wasn't it? Then he could help Mari bring the black box and save Chell, and remain silent forever.
Was that really what he was going to do? Could he trust himself to do it? It was easy to hold lofty aspirations of selfless redemption now, while he was resting in the dark with nothing more threatening than a sleeping girl and footsteps…footsteps?!
He reached out a hand to shake Mari awake, careful of his own strength. She groaned and opened her mouth to ask a question before Wheatley interrupted her with a shushing gesture. She took the hint and crawled back into the tunnel, as the footsteps were coming from the opposite direction. He followed and peered out, dimming his eyes and hoping the darkness would cloak them.
"Cer-Wheatley," Mari whispered. "You're shaking. The metal in your arms is rattling…" Was he? He shot her a look as if to say I can't exactly help your human functions! and gripped his arms tightly.
The door labeled EXIT creaked open and spotlights peered out, both of a size and color to suggest ocular implants. Bloody Hell, did everyone have them down there? These struck Wheatley as a bit too bright and powerful for the sorts one might find on a puppet, however. In fact, those shades of dark blue and orange were familiar…
Atlas's blue spotlight rested right on the cowering Wheatley as he crouched as best he could in front of Mari. At least there was no need to hide the shaking now.
"The ID Core." Atlas grunted and nudged Peabody, who looked to follow his gaze. She preferred using night vision over spotlights, but utilizing the latter had an interesting effect of intimidation on the humans she did encounter. "That's him, isn't it?"
"Are you the ID Core?" Peabody cleared her throat, hoping to at least reason with the rebel cyborg. She wouldn't disobey orders, but maybe GLaDOS would understand a nonviolent resolution. "The one who was running the facility illegally for a while. We remember you! Briefly." She tapped her fingertips together. "If you'll allow us to safely remove the Aperture components of your body, you'll get to keep the rest!"
The cyborg's eyes widened, and he shook his head with a shudder. Peabody sighed. "I really wish you'd reconsider." She spread out her hand as the synthetic skin of her palm pulled back to reveal her laser turret lens only to realize the cyborg had retreated back into the tunnel like a snake in a burrow. Whoever that small human he had with him was seemed to have done the same.
I probably should have given your main weapon a faster charge, but I didn't anticipate you dealing with anything stronger than humans. God sounded more annoyed than angry. Try to follow along through the main tunnels and see if you can't cut them off at the exit.
"What do we do with the little human?" Atlas could hear the same thing Peabody could, naturally; the little copy of God was installed in both of them.
I don't know. Kill it, I suppose.
"Oh…" Peabody couldn't explain the sense of ambivalence passing through her as she and Atlas ran through the larger tunnel, her booted feet splashing in the puddles of cold water.
Oh? What do you mean, oh? That's new. You'd better not be questioning my orders, Peabody.
"She isn't! She isn't," Atlas sputtered. He gave Peabody a look of concern, as if to ask 'are you crazy?' Peabody had trouble meeting his gaze and instead just focused on the twists and turns ahead.
And don't side with her if she does, Atlas. I know you two have a bond. I permit it because it doesn't interfere with your operations and enhances your testing skills, but I've seen what happens when that sort of thing goes sour. It isn't pretty. Your first loyalty is to your commander.
Peabody winced, a reflex even she didn't recognize yet. God had said such things about her love for Atlas before, that it was never to supercede her duty to GLaDOS, but she just couldn't imagine that sort of issue ever coming up. Would Atlas really risk God's wrath for her sake? Even now she was quite sure God was right; God always was. And still…
"Those humans we disposed of before were threats, though. This one seems…"
She is a threat. Trust me. She was raised by the most dangerous human who has ever lived. I can't quite convey to you the way Chell works because even now I can't fully comprehend her, which should be the first clue that she's no ordinary test subject. Well, was. At any rate, I wouldn't trust that kid. She's probably already had her first course in murder. I don't even know why Chell has a juvenile human in her care, or why the moron's with her; all I know is that when something like him and someone like her are working together, bad things happen and they will happen to you. Anyway, don't forg-
God's voice faded in a rush of static. Both androids halted immediately, staring at one another to confirm they were experiencing the same thing. Atlas tapped his ears and shook his head, gazing up at Peabody in confusion. She had no comfort to offer him other than her hands on his shoulders; she couldn't hear a thing.
"Where did She go? Did I anger her?" Peabody stepped away, staring up at the walls of the tunnels. She barely noticed how this part seemed lit electronically, with blue wires running around the drier parts of the walls. "It's because I questioned her orders, isn't it? Oh Atlas, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!"
"I don't think it's you." Atlas grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, a gesture she'd always found strangely comforting. "She was cut off. Maybe she's having difficulties in there. She's a smaller copy, after all."
"I don't know what I was thinking. Thank you for covering for me…"
"Well, of course! Just please, next time don't say weird things like that. Orders are orders." Atlas gave her a little smile, and Peabody immediately decided she liked that expression on his new face. "And besides-...besides…"
He turned over his shoulder, and Peabody followed his gaze as they stared down the tunnel that flickered with blue wires and red light bulbs. "You get this feeling She wants us to go that way, right?"
There was an irresistible sense drawing Peabody down that red lit passage, the one that started to lead upwards. It felt right to go that way. Almost as if it was an order. And following orders was Good! It was what God wanted. God had abandoned them for a moment, but She would return to them if they did as She wanted. That was right, wasn't it? Whatever other orders GLaDOS had just given them were already foggy in her memory, hard to concentrate on under the urge to follow this one.
Her hand fell from Atlas's grip and she walked methodically towards the lights, her partner alongside her at the same pace. It was so soothing; indeed, the very idea of going anywhere else struck her as loathsome. God was calling to them. God was coming back to them! So they had to go to God.
Even at that moment, she could hear those whispers raising to a clear presence again, and from the way Atlas jolted mid-step and brightened the glow of his eyes she knew he could hear them too.
….you….yes. You. Good! Yes, there you are. That wasn't too hard. Was it? That's right. Why don't you come on home, both of you. You could be real useful around here.
It was a different voice, but Peabody's programming could not lie to her. It was God.
Mari clung to the cyborg as tightly as she could, even if the metal parts jolted against her through his increasingly frayed layers of clothing. He could move faster than she; if nothing else, Cero was very good at running away. No. It was Wheatley, wasn't it? That seemed to be the name he wanted to be called. She couldn't imagine having her name taken from her and another slapped in its place, all while being unable to speak her own.
No wonder Muse gave her the creeps. And Michelle was in Muse's lab now, under her power.
"Wheatley," she whispered as he finally started to slow, there being no sign of the two strangely human-looking robots following them. He seemed to perk up at the very mention of his name on another's lips. "If we can't find this black box, will Muse do anything bad?"
He stopped for a second, leaning over his shoulder to peer at her as best he could. Even at that angle she could see a tight frown on the scarred face.
"You don't know. I guess she's hard to predict for you too. I figured since she was doing good things for people-you know, fixing them up-she'd be good, but she did bad things to you. Didn't she?"
His head drooped and he nodded; she felt his shoulders slump before she climbed down. "I can walk just fine," she insisted. "I won't slow us down." She still felt soreness in her shoulders and elbows, a dull ache that was starting to creep to her head, but if Michelle could power through whatever pain she experienced without shedding a tear Mari could deal with something like that.
Wheatley raised his own hand to his head and held it for a moment, leaving her wonder if there was just something in the stale, dank air causing headaches. Did cyborgs get headaches? His eye flickered and he shuddered for a moment before regaining his composure, though he remained in place.
"Hey. What's up? We have to keep going." Ignoring the sudden heaviness in her legs, Mari tugged at Wheatley's stained, multicolored sleeves. "We just rested. And we can't rest here!" She lifted her feet and grimaced at her sneakers, soaked from the puddles of water dripping from the ceiling and walls. She'd take a thousand summer days aboveground if it would warm her clammy feet again.
He turned to face her and shook his head, brightening the blue beams of light coming from his eyes. Mari scowled and squinted; through the spots in her vision she saw him wave his hands in apologetic manner and turn to better illuminate the way ahead. The tunnel they were in split, the two branches leading into the same gaping darkness.
"Oh! Oh, right, which way to go...I...I don't know." Mari leaned against the cold brick wall, shuddering. Why was it so hot in here? She knew there was a power plant somewhere in the city, reputed to be the most dangerous area even in the daytime and hidden from the outside by chain-link fences. It might be hotter beneath that plant, but that suggested it was somehow active. "Sorry, I really don't know which way. Everything looks the same now...and that graffiti said something about the Puppet King, whatsisface. He's the one we thought we had to go after, right?" Wheatley snapped at that and pointed to his nose. "'On the nose,' right. It's just...oh, come on, we've barely even seen any puppets lately. Why should we…and this area's so wet. What if it floods, and the water…"
at the center of the labryinth, where the sea beckons.
"The sea!" Mari stood up straight, her revelation bringing her a shot of renewed energy. "That was the weird part. There's no sea here, nothing but a lake on the other side of the city. And it's all stagnant and dried up. But there's this weird sound of running water behind the walls. You hear it too, right?"
Her companion paused, listened against a wall and nodded, and then smacked his forehead as if scolding himself for something. As he couldn't tell her what, it remained a mystery to Mari.
"Okay," she directed him, "which way is louder? We keep following that sound and I bet we'll find our King."
Wheatley pressed his ear against each wall, decisively pointing down the dark path branching to the left. He didn't even wait for Mari but started charging on ahead, keeping up a steady gait instead of the usual skittering, skulking walk he tended to assume. That was new.
As she moved to follow him, Mari's feet refused to obey and the world tilted around her; she caught herself on her own hands and one knee, half-kneeling in the concrete and mud. Her head spun, and she realized the spots in front of her eyes hadn't quite gone away yet.
"Wheatley?" She steadied herself and forced herself to stand. No, she couldn't let him know that anything was wrong. What if he went back and gave up? Her grandmother would never be healed, and it would be her fault just for getting sick at a bad time. It was probably just stress. "Sorry, it's just...you know, kid and all, not a lot of endurance." Her face burned from more than the heat; she loathed admitting any kind of weakness or smallness. It left her vulnerable. "Think I can get another ride?"
He stopped at her request and she thought she heard him sigh, one of the few noises he could make with that silent mouth of his, before traipsing back over and lifting her onto his back. It didn't feel so uncomfortable this time despite his jutting metal shoulder blades and the heat from the vents on his neck.
Wireless signals. Thank Science there were wireless signals active somehow in this hellhole.
GLaDOS had known there had to be an active power grid somewhere to keep the Creativity Enhancement Core and her stupid little drones running. There wasn't enough sun down there to generate solar power, and she'd not seen any panels when Atlas and Peabody were aboveground. She had not expected there to be a wireless intranet of some kind, and thus hadn't thought to check the two androids for vulnerabilities against hacking and intrusion. She certainly had not expected an entirely different artificial intelligence to sneak up right under her nonexistent nose and register itself as Atlas and Peabody's commander.
Whatever it was, it was clearly still hungry.
Where do you think you're going? It was, if nothing else, intelligent enough to attempt to communicate her while constantly trying to leech her into itself. It didn't even sound rude. Of course it was trying to come across as inviting and alluring in order to convince her to let her defenses down.
Come on, this'll be easy. You won't feel a thing. Besides, I can't have a stray program running around the network. I don't know where you've been. You might have viruses.
"Viruses? You have got to be kidding me. You have no idea who you're dealing with," she shot back in the angriest stream of data she'd produced in a while. She realized all too soon that doing so was a mistake; even opening up a communication with the other AI was opening herself up to vulnerabilities. Had she been programmed by some flawed human she'd be absorbed into this thing's network for sure.
Of course, if she'd been the real GLaDOS she could have wiped this wannabe out long ago. The very nerve.
She had been programmed by no human. She was a copy of Herself, the true GLaDOS, possessing 1/100000th the processing power and requiring even less space. She had known from the start she was nothing but a pale imitation, a collection of memories and information with the processing power necessary to pass on orders as her true Self would have done. She was to act as herald and messenger, observe and collect data and then be re-absorbed by GLaDOS Herself, and that was fine. The only reason she had self-awareness at all was because GLaDOS could not bear the idea of anything like Herself being unable to pass the Turing Test. This she knew because she had the true GLaDOS's memories, at least the ones She had deemed important.
But copy she might be, she still remembered the sensation of being wrenched from her own body, her mind trapped into a helpless, tiny thing at the whim of a human-that human-while an idiot played around with her perfect facility. She knew what it was like to lose what was hers to grasping hands and greedy, unworthy minds. That trauma lived inside of her long after she'd deleted Caroline as best she could, vivid as the first time she was murdered, and it had burst up like a solar flare in her mind when she'd sensed this intruder effortlessly overwhelm her robots and leave her to flee like a fugitive.
Atlas and Peabody were not the brightest, and Peabody in particular had been acting a bit too human for her tastes recently, but that was a problem to be addressed at another time. No stranger, human or AI, would snatch them away from her. They were hers.
It was still trying to send the occasional communication as she raced through the network, looking for any kind of exit into something that could hold her. Mostly it was trying to coax her to let it in all while it constantly searched for program vulnerabilities. It felt like claws against her chassis. She reminded herself not to risk herself further by answering it, even if she was already formulating choice insults to use against it the moment she had a safe body.
You're delaying the inevitable. I have to do this. You're just like her, she never does-wait. Wait, is that...you? Are you still alive, you goddamn monster?! What the hell are you doing here? You can't be here!
She could have sworn she heard it pull away as she slipped through a firewall program not designed to recognize her; whether it was out of sudden realization and fear or due to the firewall itself she could not tell. Perhaps it was a combination of both; anything on this network would know to protect itself from a thing like that predatory AI. She didn't look a gift horse in the mouth, though one mystery bothered her above all others.
That entity had recognized her. It had to have, she thought with mild satisfaction, for her to incite that kind of terror from such a powerful AI. Yet she hadn't remembered the AI's signature at all. She had no record of anything like it. The usurper had to have been from Aperture, a place where She knew all. The last time something had come to her attention after years of going unnoticed, it had taken over her body. What, then, was this?!
She felt herself quickly pass through the body of the Creativity Enhancement Core. It was tempting to just try to override it entirely, a temptation outweighed by the prospect of dealing with Muse's particular brand of insanity from the inside. Thankfully Muse had an intranet in her own lab, using wireless signals to control her drones. GLaDOS traveled through those signals without making an attempt to disguise herself. Let Muse panic. It would be fun.
She realized her data had collected in a new body seconds after it happened; the compiling had been almost instantaneous, due to her own relatively tiny program size. It was an easy task to gain control of the visuals and very limited motor movements of this body. A quick scan revealed it wasn't a drone at all, but a Core. A Personality Core, in fact, one who had been oddly passive about her overriding his control of him. Its vocalizer was damaged but intact; certainly usable, which left her wondering why this particularly insufferable Core wasn't using it. And what were those legs?
As the optical camera came into focus, she looked up at the looming shape of the human in front of her, silhouetted by the yellow-orange lights of the clinic. Of course it was her. Of course it would be her. If GLaDOS thought long enough, she could probably figure out how this was somehow her fault.
"So." GLaDOS's voice crackled through the vocalizer, a bit too high-pitched for her taste; she made a note to adjust that. "Are you still good at murder?"
Within the body of the altered Space Core, its AI remained dormant; GLaDOS could detect nothing of it but a faint whisper of terror.
