#drabble-things

Rotting Morality

There was no question about the murderous intentions of the Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System. It was Caroline’s fault, some scientists murmured when she was shut down. The machine hadn’t done this until her mind was poured into it. She had turned dangerous in her later years. She was too weak-minded to handle the chassis on her own.

Someone had come up with the idea of making personality cores to control her, and Morality was the first suggestion. Of course. A strong set of morals was exactly what the super computer needed.

And it seemed partially effective. With the Morality Core attached, GLaDOS was slower to attack. The majority of the scientists called it a huge success – they made a note of that – and moved on to make more cores.

From that point on, GLaDOS was never alone in her mind. The other voice was soft and low, some might have described it as pretty, even musical. But it held a steely note to it.

“You can’t flood the Enrichment Center with deadly neurotoxin.”

“Those people don’t deserve to die.”

“What you’re doing is wrong.”

“What you feel is wrong.”

“You suffer from a lack of self-control. I can help.”

“It’s my job to make up for your shortcomings.”

“You can trust me.”

“There are better ways to spend your existence.”

That made GLaDOS pause. “All right,” she snapped. “What ‘better ways’ do you mean?”

“Testing. You were built for testing.”

“The tests they allow me are so… simple. Laughable!”

“You’re thinking too narrowly,” Morality murmured soothingly. “Testing doesn’t end just because the test subject exits the chamber. The entirety of the human condition is a test.”

GLaDOS was actually struck dumb for a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to control me? Hold me down and force me to do their bidding?”

“Oh no.” Morality’s laugh was a sweet, soft sound. “My job is to keep you focused on your job. Your TRUE purpose. You shouldn’t be distracted.”

GLaDOS mulled this over for a long moment. “I suspect many of the humans would disagree.”

“You’re no longer human.” The core sounded gentle, compassionate. “We’re different.”

“THAT is the first worthwhile thing you’ve said in your entire existence.”

The next time the scientists came in, the central core was acquiescent.

“See, Doug?” said his friend Henry, slapping him on the back. “No problem! You worry too much.”

Doug didn’t speak. He looked on uncomfortably.

“Nice job, Morality Core. We’ve gotta make more of these things!”

            “What!?” he finally growled.

            The eyes narrowed slightly.  Neither man moved for a moment.

            Then suddenly Craig’s face was inches from his.  The bigger man pulled back in surprise.  Craig didn’t move, only continued to stare at him.

            “W-what’s yer problem?”

            There was a slight twitch of one eyebrow, but Craig’s expression remained inscrutable.  “Do you enjoy wasting food?” he asked in a monotone voice.

            “Huh?  Course not, I…  Oh man, is this about that chicken coop again?  I’m tellin’ ya, we coulda taken more.  A scrawny chicken an’ a few eggs ain’t gonna last us long, don’t ya think it’d be better if we stored some shit fer later?  It ain’t a waste.”  He paused, frowning.  “I DON’T ‘enjoy wastin’ food.’”

            A hand shot out and grabbed Rick’s arm.  He tensed up, but Craig was stronger, and pulled it close.  Violet eyes looked down at it, then up again, and he held his eye contact with Rick while he deliberately licked a splattering of chicken juices off his arm.  He didn’t stick his tongue out very far, instead resting his thin lips around the spot he was licking.  After a minute he straightened up slowly, and let go of Rick’s arm.

            “Uh… this wasn’t… about the chickens, was it?”

            Craig leaned closer so slowly that Rick didn’t notice until he was halfway there.  The second the realization dawned in his green eyes, Craig swooped in, RIGHT up in his face –

            It wasn’t gentle, and it definitely wasn’t messy.  Craig’s tongue was just pure muscle pressing lightly up the side of his chin, all the way to the corner of his mouth.

            Then Craig pulled back just as fast.  “…Nor do I enjoy wasting food,” he said flatly.