Portal 100 Themes #6 - New Love
Fact walked briskly down the employees' corridors, his nose as always stuck in a book. He thought he had become pretty familiar with the layout of the building, which was significantly different than the world of rails in which he had previously lived. However, when he took a brief respite from his literature, he found himself in a hallway he'd not explored before. In fact, it looked like hardly anyone had explored here in quite some time. The walls were still rusted and mildewed, and the floor had at least an inch of dust. Fact frowned, snapping his book shut. He immediately turned around, intent on returning to more familiar passageways when a brutish odor invaded his simulated senses. Nausea was unfamiliar to constructs, but disgust certainly was not. Fact covered his nose, cursing the fact that olfactory simulators were standard on every new humanized core and, led by his natural sense of curiosity that came with delving into useless bits of trivia, followed the scent down the dusty hallway. He heard a muted, low voice and froze, grasping his book tightly as though it were a shield. Flattening himself against a wall, he edged toward an open door, where the stench was growing stronger. "...volatile milk impoundments, nine large egg yolks, twelve medium..." Fact gulped. No one was supposed to be down here, were they? No, not with the unkempt wall panels. GLaDOS would never allow an area of the facility to fall into such disrepair unless it was meant to be off-limits. Therefore: who was in the room? And what was that smell? He peeked cautiously through the door, immediately identifying the area as an old kitchen. He recognized the build of a humanized core by its gray-white skin and standard-issue body-fitting white uniform. Fact scoffed. That style of uniform had gone out of commission months ago! The construct was significantly shorter than Fact – though Fact himself was slightly taller than most humanized cores. Though the core had a slightly more solid build than average constructs, it still adhered to GLaDOS's strict theme of aesthetics. Thus it could only be called handsome, with dark brown, tightly-curled hair that hung in front of its periwinkle-blue eyes. It paced back and forth through the kitchen, grabbing bits and pieces of things and throwing them on some sooty black piles set out on a table. Fact's mouth turned in disgust as he looked at the misshapen piles of detritus and ash. Broken legs of turrets, bits of metal, shards of wall panels, and other flotsam stuck in all directions out of the hard, crusty piles. Fact soon identified the stench permeating through the room and down the hallways as caramelized sugar – excessively carbonized caramelized sugar. The humanized core kept trying to jam more sharp bits into the solid lumps, meeting with extreme resistance and a distinct chipping sound, as though it were trying to dig through rock. One of the four large ovens on the side of the room began to belch black smoke. The core seemed to pay it no mind, its focus solely on "decorating" his burnt offerings and repeating a monotone mantra. "...slaughter electric needle injector, cordless electric needle injector, injector needle driver..." The fear of fire grew greater than the fear of this strange core, and Fact dove into the room, throwing his book aside and opening the oven. Smoke poured out, obscuring much of the room from Fact's sight. He managed to find the knob to turn the oven off, and, using one of the large, moth-eaten potholders hanging on the wall, he began to fan away the smoke. When the smoke cleared, the strange core came into view again, looking at Fact with dull surprise. As Fact pulled yet another carbonized lump from the oven, the construct said, in a dull monotone, "Cake?" "What are you trying to do?" Fact snarled, dumping the mess onto the floor. He dropped the filthy potholder in repulsion, dusting off his hands against his thin hips and huffing with annoyance. The core blinked at him, half-lidded blue eyes full of ignorance. Straightening up, the construct dropped the shard of turret leg in his hand before stuttering shyly, "M-making cake?" Fact groaned, rubbing his forehead impatiently. "Ugh, you're corrupted. Fantastic. Wait!" He strode up to the core, looking down at it with his usual grimace of superiority. "If you're corrupted, how did you make it into the humanizing facilitator? Corrupted cores are reconfigured before attached to a humanoid body." GLaDOS had found it much easier on herself and her non-robot test subjects to present her cores as human-like. Evidently, some humans were frightened by a large eyeball-like core chasing them around on rails and shouting orders. Through much persuasion, she had also converted her Curiosity and Anger cores, reclaiming them from the incinerator and the crusher by way of nanobots. There had been no mention of the other two cores she had worn years ago, so everyone counted them lost. She had spared the Fact core as a reward for his assistance in reclaiming her throne. She had even given him a unique appearance: tall and thin as a rail, with manicured, ruddy hair and bright pink eyes. He wore small glasses, mostly to give him an appearance of intelligence. It was exactly how the core had pictured himself as a human, and GLaDOS had been surprisingly accommodating. The core, unable to recall exactly how he'd been humanized, just shrugged indifferently. "Well, regardless, you must go through reconfiguration. Corruption is not a valuable aspect in the facility and must be corrected." The core tilted his head. "Corrected...cake?" Fact ran his tongue across his teeth, trying to suppress his frustration. Becoming overemotional tended to fry out his circuits, reverting him back albeit temporarily to his corrupted self. He pressed his fingertips together and sighed disdainfully. "You need to come with me," he said, reaching for the core's hand to lead him out of the room. The core jerked out of his grasp with a startled cry. Fact was about to rebuke him again when he saw the look of sheer terror on the other's face. The corrupted core wrung his hands together nervously. "Can't leave cake. Must stay for cake." Scowling again, Fact looked at the carbon lumps on the table. He motioned to them with a wave of his hand. "These? These are not cakes. Cake is a confection composed of flour, eggs, butter, sugar, baking powder, salt, and milk. Most of these ingredients are neither readily available at the facility nor are present in these...sub-mutations that you identify as cake." He adjusted the thin spectacles on his nose, glaring down a the core. "Though it has been said before, I feel this situation calls for a statement of fact: the cake is a lie." The dull blue eyes grew very wide as if hurt, and Fact was stung with an alien feeling of regret. The emotion was so sudden and foreign that Fact's mind slipped off its track. "Paul Johnson, Ishi Rudell, Norm Kritsch, Nicole Gauss, Aries Anonical..." Fact proceeded to prattle off a whole list of seemingly random names. He was brought around by the sound of a warm chuckle. Shaking the glitch from his brain, he saw the corrupted core laughing at him. The corrupted core was laughing at him. He cleared his throat pointedly, smoothing his shirt. "Admittedly, the reconfiguration is only 98.43566% accurate. Still, it is better than the nonsensical turmoil churning from yourprocessors. You must come with me and be reconfigured." "But, cake!" the core protested as Fact started to drag him off. "The Fact core cannot lie. Reconfiguration is obligatory. And that 'cake' will be just fine." Fact tightened his grip on the core's hand. Though he could not directly remember any such situation of his own, he had heard that corrupted cores – as well as corrupted turrets and other vocalizing mechanima – were more prone to the extremes of their simulated human emotions. It was as though they had forgotten they were machines at all. As they traversed the hallways into more familiar territory, Fact noticed that the core was now gripping his hand, clinging close to him as though frightened. They passed other cores, Fact pretending to ignore their scoffs and whispers. He knew he was not the most popular core in the building, mainly because he was always right about everything and wasn't afraid to let others know it. That they didn't appreciate his honesty and dedication to the truth spoke volumes about their own inadequacies. At least, Fact tried to convince himself that. Now he heard hushed whispers about the corrupted core. A few female cores were giggling, and Fact overheard them mentioning the corrupted construct's uniform. Others mumbled something about "Fact's new boyfriend." He heard at least one mention of "Morons gotta stick together." It wasn't helping matters that the core was struggling against him the whole way. "Need to go back to cake," the core whimpered, trying to avoid the stares. "Cake needs no reconfrosting. Corrupted cake is still good cake!" "Reconfiguration is an unavoidable process with beneficial consequences." Fact jerked the corrupted core's hand angrily, scowling, deciding to travel less populated corridors instead. Once this core was fixed, Fact would have him put to work, probably far down in the humans' kitchens. He'd never have anything to do with him again, and the gossip would once again focus on his narcissism instead of the dumb-looking core he'd been dragging through the center. As they reached GLaDOS's chamber, Fact realized that the core had become strangely complacent and quiet. Looking down, he saw the core had an expression of deep shame. His hand had gone limp in Fact's grip, as though he'd simply given up. The twinge of guilt returned, and Fact decided he didn't like that feeling at all. "Cake is sorry. Cake has gone moldy," he said lowly. Fact bit his lip. His hand tightened over the core's, not in anger but support. "You will be better once the process is complete. Do not listen to what those other cores say; they are easily prone to jealousy and reject whatever they find different. You will be fixed, and they will no longer say such things about you." The core seemed a little relieved at this, although he did not appear eager to enter the Goddess's chamber. Fact couldn't say he blamed the broken construct; he was not looking forward to facing her again, either. Unlike her cores, GLaDOS had chosen not to become humanized. She simply had no want for it, with all the cores and robots to complete her physical tasks leaving her elaborate mind to control all other areas of the facility. A Goddess needed an ethereal form, and the body of a human simply did not fulfill that need. The white rectangular chassis that served as her head swiveled toward the two cores as they entered, the corrupted core attempting to hide behind Fact. Her glowing yellow optic narrowed, and she retracted upward on her throne. "What's this?" she said, her electronic voice devoid of emotion. The optic focused specifically on Fact, and he began to feel a creeping nervousness. "Three point one four nine seven two six...nngg..." He tightened his jaw, taking a second to rewire his thoughts. "Th-this is a corrupted core. I found him in a lost sector of the facility." "Oh, those stupid nanobots must have saved this one," GLaDOS said, her antipathy now apparent. "They really do take too many liberties. I think I'll fire a few of them. In the incinerator." The chassis suddenly drew back as though shocked. Her optic narrowed threateningly. "I know this one. It was there when she killed me." Fact took a step back, gulping hard. Though the offender had been essentially forgiven, GLaDOS hated memories of that day. It had been difficult enough convincing GLaDOS to spare the Curiosity and Anger cores. Even now, they both stood under constant threat of deletion. It was now extremely likely that GLaDOS would refuse any assistance at all. GLaDOS processed for a moment in silence. She swiveled away from them, pretending to inspect some test subject on one of her monitors. Finally, she let out a quiet, almost resigning sigh. A panel opened from the floor, and a seat with several connection ports slid out. Fact recognized it as the device used for reconfiguration, defragmentation, and other maintenance functions. He motioned for the corrupted core to sit, but the frightened core only grabbed tighter onto Fact's hand. "Reconfiguration is necessary for an adequate and beneficial life as a core," Fact reiterated flatly, reminding himself that corrupted cores were susceptible to strong emotions. Consciously softening his expression, he squeezed the core's hand encouragingly. "I will remain here for the duration of the reconfiguration. I will not leave until reconfiguration is complete, and then I will escort you to a designated core domicile for rehabilitation." The core's blue eyes widened. "You won't leave cake?" Fact suddenly felt something strange deep within his circuits. There was something in the way the core clung to him, depended on him. They had only just met, but Fact was suddenly experiencing some strange need to protect this crazy, deluded construct. The whispers from the other cores came to mind, and Fact realized that they were both merely victims, not only of the fragmentation of their minds but also of the judgment of others. His own reconfiguration came to mind. Prone, fragile, still unspeakably haughty but incredibly fearful, he had struggled the whole time until he was forced into the machine. The reconfiguration itself left him severely confused, questioning himself and reality nearly to the point of paradoxification. Death by paradox was not a peaceful one, especially when brought on by an AI's own mind. He had a feeling the cake-obsessed core was even more fragile and certainly more fearful. "The Fact core cannot lie," he said soothingly. Still unsure but convinced, the broken construct obediently seated himself. A small device plugged into the back of his head, and his dull eyes went wide. Fact was not alarmed; many of the older cores went offline once they were in synch with the system. What worried him were the after-effects. A cheery male voice came through the chamber: "Reformatting initialized." Fact's pink eyes shot open. Reformatting? Deletion? Before he knew what he was doing, Fact grabbed the core by his shoulders and yanked him from the device. The body of the core gave a violent shudder before falling limp. "Perfect. Now he's even more corrupted than before," GLaDOS groaned. "Might I remind you that android hell is a real place, and you will be sent there at the first sign of insubordination?" "This core is useful," Fact retaliated, tightening his grip on the core's shoulders. "All cores have some menial use." "He makes cakes. That's his only function. They're not even good cakes. Eventually he'll just set the whole facility on fire with one of his abominable confections. Trust me, we'll all be a lot better off when he's reformatted." "This core is useful," Fact stated again, his high voice firm. "The Fact core cannot lie." An uneasy silence passed between them. Fact's mind started to turn fearful again as he remembered the power his mistress wielded. He regarded it unfortunate that his reconfiguration had included a human desire to stay alive as long as possible. "What if I would be willing to take responsibility for his actions?" he offered. The Goddess of Aperture did not often negotiate, he knew, but for some reason, he had to take a chance. GLaDOS thought for a second. "Why would you propose such a ridiculous idea?" "I convinced him to come here. I told him it was a necessary process. Because he is a core, he must be reconfigured to be functional. I...feel responsible for his inability to be useful." Fact looked down at the limp humanoid in his arms. GLaDOS sighed. "I really did make you too human. I should just scrap each one of you and start fresh. But that would waste a lot of time and resources that I simply don't have. I suppose it was my own fault for using such an emotional template. I really should have just deleted her." The chassis lowered, almost to the ground. Fact shrunk back, still clinging to the core. It was easy to forget how intimidatingly massive GLaDOS was. As the yellow optic narrowed, moving up and down as it looked him over, Fact clenched his jaw tightly. Fear overcame him again, and he mumbled the names and abilities of several plumbing tools under his breath. "You have ten seconds before I electrocute the floor," she said lowly. Fact didn't need a second warning. He picked up the core and made a mad dash for the exit. **** "Please, please, please..." Fact didn't know to whom the words were addressed, but he felt the need to say them anyway. He ran all the way to his office-apartment with the offline core in his arms, ignoring the stares and outright giggles of the other cores on his way. Their intolerance would have to wait. He pulled out a small input device labeled "Emergency Malfunction Regenerative" from one of the drawers of his desk, popping off the plastic top. It had a plug similar to the one in the reconfiguration machine, and Fact wasted no time in snapping it into the core's neck-port. As he reached for the initialization button, he realized his hands were shaking. He didn't even know his hands could shake. He was also glitching wildly, but stopping that would have to wait. The device beeped, flashing a blue light. Fact sat back and waited, murmuring uncontrollably. "01100100011011110110111000100111011101000010000001100100 0110100101100101..." The Regenerative let out a series of quick beeps, telling him that the reset was in progress. Fact took the core's limp hand in his own, squeezing it tightly. He shut his eyes, as though behind his optics he would see the broken core spring to life of his own accord. His rambling continued, this time in a longer cycle. "01110000011011000110010101100001011100110110010100100000011001000 110111101101110001001110111010000100000011001000110100101100101..." Finally, the device started paced, low-tuned beeps, which meant it was finished. The dull blue eyes of the construct slowly opened, and Fact gave a relieved sigh. The core's hand twitched in Fact's, and Fact was able to focus enough to stop his stream of binary. "You...saved cake?" the core muttered drowsily. Throughout his activation, Fact's purpose was to gain trivial knowledge and spew it back out, accuracy be damned. He was aware that his design was to distract GLaDOS from her murderous intentions, an idea taken after Wheatley's programming. He had always known he was Wheatley's progeny, a sort of "Wheatley 2.0." GLaDOS had been keen to this too, and as soon as he was plugged into her, she gave him such a violent jolt of electricity that he'd been offline for weeks. He'd woken up in the corrupted core bin and, if not for the involvement of that test subject, would have remained there for all time. His whole life had been filled with useless information. He'd never had the chance to do anything, and for the most part he'd never wanted to do anything. But he had saved the core. He had taken action and as a result had saved a life. He had done something. The radiating feeling of warmth that was now flooding though his mind was beginning to feel very rewarding. "I guess I did," he said, a mixture of shock and satisfaction running through his processors. He gave a surprised grunt as the core nearly tackled him in a grateful hug. The core was much stronger than Fact, and for a moment Fact was afraid he would be crushed. After a second, a new feeling of warmth started through him, just as rewarding but stemming from a different emotion. He couldn't analyze the new feeling, and after a moment just gave up trying. The only important thing right now was that the core was okay. His arms wrapped protectively around the construct. "You saved cake," the core said, his deep voice cracking a little. Fact smiled. These corrupted cores were so emotional... **** It had been decided that the corrupted core's name would be "Intel," short for "Intelligence." Fact had chosen the name, of course, after researching a little more about who the core used to be. Long, long ago, Intel had been responsible for many important decisions for GLaDOS, most of them related to which test subjects would go through what tests, assessing the results of those tests, and preparing the subjects' rewards or punishments. He was actually quite an intelligent core, but now his corruption made it difficult for him to communicate any of his ideas. Corrupted, all of his focus appeared to be on cake. Cake was the ultimate reward. Cake was for the test subjects that did their tests quickly and accurately. Somewhere along the line, cake had been equated with freedom, freedom substituted for liberation, and liberation eventually included death. Cake was the reason for living. Cake was death. It wasn't like that now, which was still a little confusing to the core. Though Fact had done his best to unscramble the chaos inside his head, Intel was still just a rambling mess of metal, wires, silicon, and cake. Despite Fact's constant reassurance that Intel was a fine core, just a little messed up but certainly worth saving, Intel stayed away from the other cores. He knew they would judge him since he couldn't speak very well. They would think he was stupid and laugh at him. Some of them may even try to take him back to herchamber. She would delete him if she saw him again; he knew that. Over the course of a few weeks visiting the corrupted core, Fact discovered he enjoyed Intel's company far more than the company of the other cores. Intel would listen, never complaining when Fact talked about himself, never correcting when Fact was wrong. Soon, they started talking about other things besides Fact, which was strange, because Fact loved talking about himself. They discussed ongoing events of the center, the test subject that had gotten away, the world outside, and a host of other things. Eventually they stopped talking altogether, each merely enjoying the company of another core that wouldn't scrutinize them. Fact even began to procure proper ingredients for a cake, which excited Intel to no end. One day, a fortuitous opportunity presented itself in the form of an unwanted cache found in the lower testing chambers, and Intel took full advantage. Once everything had been properly gathered, Intel began the construction. His focus had never been more clear, and for the first time in a long time, he felt as though he wasn't corrupted at all. Every particle fell into place, every detail perfect. He looked upon his creation and smiled to himself. All that remained were the finishing touches. He grabbed a large bag of white frosting and started writing. Fact was rather surprised to see Intel when he returned to his office. Generally the two met in a quiet, abandoned meeting room or the digital media library GLaDOS had installed. That Intel welcomed him with a broad, almost mischievous smile was also jarring. "A present," Intel said before Fact could ask. He grabbed Fact's wrist, pulling him to the desk. Fact grinned, finding – as he expected – a small cake, chocolate-frosted, covered with small multicolored sprinkles. Elegant decorations in pink and blue skirted the borders, and on the top of the cake in white icing were three little words. The smile faded from Fact's face as the words and their meaning took light. A look of surprise took over. Emotions surged within him that he had never even thought he might experience, and his electronic brain suddenly suffered a major glitch. The pink lights of his eyes dimmed, and his body shuddered. "Seven seven seven seven seven seven seven seven seven seven seven..." He couldn't stop. Intel looked at him worriedly. "Apples, pears, kiwis, oranges, nectarines, pineapples, kumquats, tangerines -" He felt a touch, and his mind suddenly grounded. Blinking, confused, as if coming back from a daze, he looked down at Intel. The corrupted core was holding his hand, their fingers entwined. "Rhubarb," Intel offered with a smile. "Rhubarb." Fact relaxed, his face curling into a smile as he pulled the construct into a hug. A corrupted cake was still a good cake. And that wasn't a lie.
