He needed his meds. That's what the voice kept telling him. You need your meds, Doug.
But he only had half a bottle left.
The corridors were choked with neurotoxin. How he was still alive at all was a mystery even to him. There were no other survivors. There couldn't be. She'd killed them all, including their daughters. Such a useless way to die...
And now She was watching him with those many cold metal eyes. They were everywhere. He couldn't escape them; he couldn't escape the facility.
You're sick, Doug, the voice said. You need your meds.
At least it was making sense. He was sick, and terribly alone in this labyrinth. She knew, of course, because She had eyes everywhere.
"'Doug Rattmann, Aperture Science employee for five years,'" the AI's flat voice filled the air. "'Middle-aged, average height and weight. Schizophrenic since he was sixteen. Known for his objections to Aperture Science research.'" She was reading his personnel file. "That's interesting. What do you have against science? It also says you are a terrible person, and you will die here."
Doug tried not to listen. She was trying to get a reaction out of him and he wouldn't give Her the satisfaction. What he needed was to be alone so he could get his mind in order. He needed to find a place where there were no cameras.
"I'm not...a terrible person." But who was he trying to convince?
"Good people...don't end up here." GLaDOS said.
She wasn't lying about that.
This facility was a goddamn asylum, and he needed his meds.