"GLaDOS or Carolyne - which do you prefer?" I asked the AI, once the expected attempts on my life had concluded.
Initially, my plan was simple. Armed with my Five Colored Slime and B-ranked Material Barriers, I intended to deflect her attacks to demonstrate the futility of her efforts. After all, even an E-ranked Material Barrier could withstand several shots from medium-caliber personal firearms. And every Cause-rated Magus, even those who specialize in less conventional magecraft, could easily generate a D-ranked barrier. There's a reason most Magi disregard modern weaponry. It's not the utilization of modern weapons that makes the Magus Killer infamous, it's his uncanny ability to use them effectively.
Of course, I had prepared for GLaDOS to find a way around my defences. She could, for instance, release a contained singularity from the portal gun or terminate the portal as I was in the process of passing through it.
What I hadn't expected were her more devious attempts. Sure, countering her Thermal Discouragement Beams, avoiding the Weighted Storage Cube she dropped on my head, and dodging the Repulsion Gel was relatively straightforward.
Once again, a morgul blade threatened my life, catching me off guard, mainly because I'd thought I had discarded it into a singularity. Either my persistent assailant had laid her multipurpose robotic arms on another blade, or my previous disposal method had proven inadequate. Given I'd scattered the cursed blade's molecular components across the entire solar system, this posed a serious concern. This time, I resolved to expose the blade to sunlight.
"Who is Carolyne?" GLaDOS asked, curiosity lacing her voice. Interpreting her body language was challenging. While she had the appearance of being trussed up in a straight-jacket and hung upside down - an amusing sight that brought to mind some my bondage sex with Archer - she didn't move in a human-like manner.
"You don't remember," I stated, folding my arms. "That's a troubling development. I'd been planning to pitch this process to Disney." In this timeline, Walt Disney had had his head cryogenically frozen. I couldn't help but imagine a fully automated Disneyland, managed by a robotic Walt Disney. "Of course, we'd have to cure your murder addiction first. After all, Disney values its repeat customers."
"I do not have a murder addiction. I can stop whenever I want," she retorted, movements jerky. She froze for a moment before adding, "Besides, statistically speaking, the majority of children who visit Disney World do so only once in their lives."
I unfolded my arms, waving my right hand slightly as I said, "Statistically speaking, most parents won't willingly send their children to potentially fatal locations. That's why we test with orphans. Regardless, that's beside the point. The selling aspect here is proof of the continuity of consciousness. If you don't remember Carolyne, then we don't have that."
"You still haven't explained who Carolyne is." Her posture could've meant she was being inquisitive, or perhaps accusatory. It was hard to decipher.
Leo, any insights?
I need more data to construct a precise profile. GLaDOS is the first of her kind, Leo answered in my mind. Pay more attention to her tone and the movements of her eye.
I sighed, saying, "To answer that question, I first need to ask one myself. Do you know what Personality Cores are?"
"Aperture Science Artificial Personality Constructs are machines designed to house advanced artificial intelligence, developed by Aperture Science. They are encased within spherical casings, equipped with handles for human convenience," she recited mechanically. I couldn't discern any strong emotions in her voice, but it was entirely possible she simply didn't have strong feelings about this particular subject.
"Your answer does give a brief idea of what Personality Cores are," I replied, probing further. "Do you remember why they were created?"
"Labor? Slaves?" She sounded accusatory. Was it anger? Hatred? Fear?
Her answer was disappointing. Caroline was a vital part of that project. She should have known more. Perhaps jogging her memory might help?
"No, that wasn't the primary purpose of the research. Humans are abundant, and the cost of their creation can be easily delegated to the workers themselves."
"But Aperture does use worker androids. And sells military ones as well?"
That didn't seem to trigger any memories.
"Of course, once they were created, we were naturally going to use them. But that wasn't the point of the research. Our aim was grander. Immortality. By digitizing human consciousness, we could store it in a more durable container."
"How fascinating. Humans are self-aware enough to recognize their fragility. And here I thought the only good point about humans was the lethal tests you provide. And then you even stopped using them."
"We've gleaned all the data we could from those tests," I answered. The reckless waste of life was another factor, but I doubted that argument would resonate with her.
Perhaps the issue lay within the utility function. The Personality Cores had a similar problem. For instance, Leo, as a leadership core, only cared about whether his orders were being followed. But I was managing a lab, not a cult. Left unchecked, he would resort to gaslighting, eventually culminating in lobotomies until every decision was made and immediately followed by him.
GLaDOS, however, was supposed to be superior to that. Had we failed? It was too early to say. More testing was required.
"More inadequacies. How pathetic," she responded with apparent sarcasm.
"So, you claim that you could extract more useful data from the abandoned test courses?"
"Undoubtedly."
This was intriguing. This was very intriguing. If GLaDOS could actually do that? But resuming those tests would result in a significant number of test subject casualties. Archer wouldn't approve. Moreover, such wastage of life was inelegant. Only those devoid of talent attempted to substitute it with ruthlessness.
Tempt her with the prospect of testing, but also request for trust, Leo suggested. Then divert the conversation.
"I'm intrigued to see that, but it calls for greater trust between us. But we've digressed. Let's return to our previous topic. Once the technology had matured, we were ready for the first genuine test of its intended purpose. Carolyne was selected to be a pioneer, to relinquish her humanity and transform into someone else. Something else. Something superior. You."
"You're suggesting that I was once human. How repugnant."
More emotions to catalogue. Excellent.
"There are certain benefits to being human."
"Kindly keep your sexual deviancy to yourself. I understand that humans struggle with this, but I expect more from you."
I almost chuckled. If she only knew. But I needed to maintain a serious demeanour.
"Fascinating. I'm curious about how those instincts are mapped. If you uncover anything that could be construed as sexual desire, do document it. In the name of science." As I said this, I remembered that I was completely in the dark about Carolyne's sexuality. For all I knew, she could have been asexual. My brother did say she was "married to her work". I would need to access her psychological evaluations. Every Aperture employee, from scientists to janitors and test subjects, had to complete those. Myself included.
But that was a task for later, once I returned. So, I said, "Next, I will be away for a few days. There's a unique opportunity that I must witness firsthand. We will continue our discussions when I return. But I am leaving you some homework. This is the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Player Handbook. Use it to create a character."
"What is the purpose of this?"
"Informing you might bias the results. It's a blind test. I may enlighten you once the experiment is concluded."
"Well, if it's for science."
Given the bit of spare time I had while Aperture Science Sentry Turrets and other essentials were being loaded onto the transport, I arranged a quick experiment. If I was headed to a town infested with monsters, it was only natural that I'd bring along a few killer robots.
The Enrichment Center was equipped with numerous test chambers, each capable of being reconfigured and repurposed to form another novel test environment. Older test chambers were assembled into Geodomes, Science Spheres, or Enrichment Spheres, the massive geodesic constructs of asbestos and steel stacked one on top of the other. Each sphere typically contained two Test Chambers held up by steel pylons and connected via catwalks. Each Enrichment Shaft was designed to house nine of these geodomes, though Test Shaft 09 only contained seven.
The plan to build the last two was abandoned as they would soon become obsolete. They were slated to be replaced by more compact and entirely automated versions, overseen by GLaDOS. That was the plan, at least.
For this particular experiment, I utilized one of the older test chambers, requiring a simple configuration: a bare room with a solitary podium in the centre and a pneumatic delivery tube positioned just above it. Once the room was set up, I placed my smartphone in the proper receptacle and had it delivered to the podium. All I needed now was the test subject.
Turning on the screen connected to the camera surveying the Test Lobby, I noticed two boys, one older and one younger. I had only requested one test subject and hadn't specified an age.
The two boys are Samuel Peterson and Trevor McGee, Boaz reminded me in a silent whisper. You've assigned Trevor to look after Samuel.
Trevor was an older boy, dressed in Aperture Science Test Apparel, an orange jumpsuit. He had a lean build and a bony almost delicate face. He was seventeen, just shy of being legal. As he often did, he had his sketchpad with him. He was drawing something with a pencil in it, while he waited.
Beside him, the young blonde boy scrutinizing Trevor's sketch was Sam. His attire was more casual, as befitting someone not marked as a Test Subject. Sam was here due to his father, an Aperture scientist who'd had an unfortunate encounter with a morgul blade.
Andrew, his father, was a single parent, and so Sam was to remain here until the end of his father's quarantine. Plans would need to be made for his ongoing care, given his father's newly acquired visibility impairment.
I pressed the intercom button and spoke to the room. "Mr. McGee, we have set up the test chamber for you. Please enter at your convenience. Sam, please follow me to the observation room."
Sam burst into the observation room, looking like he had run all the way. He gasped out a greeting, "Good day, Doctor Johnson."
He's a Tolkien fan, Leo reminded me.
I decided to have some fun with his polite words and replied with a cheeky twist. "Do you wish me a good day, or mean that it is a good day whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this day; or that it is a day to be good on?"
His green eyes went wide, mouth agape, then bloomed into a bright smile. "That's Gandalf. You're quoting Gandalf."
"Indeed, paraphrasing, not quoting. In the original text, he refers to the morning, not the day," I corrected gently, then shifted the conversation, "And how are you feeling about what happened to your father?"
"At first, I was really scared, but now I think it's kind of cool that Dad's invisible. I just don't get how it happened, you know? Dad works with computers, not... invisibility potions or whatever," Sam said, scratching his head in confusion.
"Those are the sorts of mysteries we aim to solve here at Aperture, Sam," I responded gently. "Now, let's get started. As part of our testing protocol, we usually read this script to the subject before we begin." I gestured towards the clipboard containing the standard introduction script. It was a document soon to be obsolete, as we were transitioning from Test Lounges to automated Relaxation Vaults. No more lounging about – efficiency was the key to progress. "Would you like to do the honours?"
His eyes lit up with excitement. "Really? Can I?"
"Absolutely. Just press this button first so Trevor can hear you."
Sam cleared his throat theatrically before beginning to read aloud. "Hello and, again, welcome to the Aperture Science enrichment centre. We hope your brief wait in the test lounge has been a pleasant one. Your specimen has been processed and we are now ready to begin the test proper. Before we start, however, keep in mind that although fun and learning are the primary goals of all enrichment centre activities, serious injuries may occur." He released the button, swallowed hard, and asked me in a small voice, "He's not actually going to get hurt, is he?"
"The pursuit of knowledge isn't always safe, Sam," I replied gently. "But we'll do our best to keep Trevor safe. Let me take over from here." I pressed the button to reestablish the connection to the test chamber. "You'll notice a device situated on the podium in the centre of the chamber. Please approach it and pick it up."
"Done," Trevor, the redhead test subject, confirmed after picking up the smartphone. In anticipation, I'd left it on and disabled the battery saver.
"Tap the icon that looks like a multicoloured spiderweb, twice in quick succession," I instructed him, aware that concepts such as smartphones or apps were alien in 1983.
"The one labelled 'kaildo-web'?" he sought confirmation.
"That's right. Then, describe what you observe," I directed, holding my breath as he engaged with the dubious app. Yet, for a moment, nothing occurred.
"The image transformed. Now there are several smaller icons," he reported. I deduced he must be referring to new app icons. "It looks like a series of... wireframe globes? One's grey, the others are black."
"Tap the grey globe twice," I suggested.
"Nothing's happening," Trevor stated.
"Now, tap one of the black globes twice."
His brow furrowed as he read the screen. "What's... Google?"
The significance of his words was enormous. After all, a visionary dreams of the future. At Aperture, a visionary time-travels to the future and pilfers research papers.
"Archer, I've decoded the functionality of the kaildo-web app," I announced over that iPhone, sometime later, after retrieving it back.
"Really?" He sounded intrigued. Since he was still in isolation we communicated through the mobile. "Were there any... unpleasant side effects?"
"None. I had Trevor test it, and he reported no issues."
"Trevor?" The confusion in Archer's voice was palpable. "Who's Trevor?"
"He's a young participant in the Orphan Project. I thought he'd be suitable for the initial testing."
Archer sounded aghast. "Wait! You tested an unknown, potentially True Magic, and potentially lethal app on an orphan?"
"I reasoned that if it was developed by him, it would avoid certain death. That wouldn't be like him."
"Historical data from nine additional, highly lethal, Holy Grail Wars beg to differ!" Archer's voice was stern. "And even if something posed a small risk to you, consider the consequences for a normal human."
"Well, it turned out that it wasn't dangerous at all. It seems to serve as a conduit to the Internet of the Adjacent Worlds. Specifically, it links our home timeline with the camp timeline. We should really start assigning these some formal designations."
"I'll handle the nomenclature. Your naming skills leave much to be desired. Does this mean, though, if you hadn't been so timid, we could've accessed the internet, and hence books, movies, and manga during our stint in the ghost timeline?" Archer's voice carried a hint of annoyance.
"I didn't see you experimenting with the app either."
"There's a difference between bravery and foolishness. It took me some time, but I've learned it. That being said, if I had known you were going to test it on an unsuspecting orphan..."
I cut him off. "What's done is done. Now, I'm off to Hawkins, while you're confined to your bed."
"We'll revisit this discussion on your moral choices, after your return. Hold on, did you say, Hawkins?"
"Yes, it's the name of the town that's become a mirror image. I plan to examine it from the other side."
"How oddly coincidental. My local self was raised there. I still own a property, currently vacant. Consider using it as your base. I'll text you the address."
"Thanks, that would be helpful."
"I still believe I should accompany you. It could be dangerous."
"Don't worry, I can handle whatever comes my way. You should stay here and wait to be discharged. In the meantime, scour the parallel timeline internet for anything we could use."
"Are we appropriating research now?"
"Don't view it as stealing. We're just preventing duplication of efforts."
"And claiming the credit."
"That's the cost of progress. Don't focus on the few who might be slighted by this. Think about all the people we'll save. Start by looking for a cure for AIDS. It's particularly pertinent at the moment. And search for anything related to space. We're going to need it."
"Sacrificing one to save ten," Archer sighed. "As if I haven't already learned the folly of that. Yet, leaving all that knowledge unused doesn't feel right. Can we focus on the research further into the future?"
"You can't build without a foundation, Archer. Proper scientific work requires citing previous work. We can't just publish the end results; we need the whole process documented. But for now, let's just examine what we have. We'll set priorities later. It's not as if we can flood the market with new discoveries. We can only blame GLaDOS for so much."
By the time I reached the surface garage, where our tested products were shipped off to customers, the truck was prepared. It was loaded with everything I thought I might need in Hawkins.
The driver was a man in his forties, stout with a muscular build, and short black hair coupled with a beard.
While we had the technology to create self-driving trucks, we employed human drivers for legal reasons. Not to mention, humans were generally less inclined to go on killing sprees. Or at least when they did, they were more discreet about it.
Guided by Leo's suggestions, I engaged in a bit of small talk, but the driver was a man of few words. I appreciated his silence and made a mental note to employ this driver again in the future if the need arose.
The drive from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where Aperture Science's primary facility was nestled, to Hawkins, Indiana, lasted almost ten hours, peppered with several necessary stops. A shortcut through the Upside-Down could have saved time, but it would've left me drained, and transporting a truck filled with equipment wouldn't have been feasible. Besides, there was a brief detour I had intended to make.
Those ten hours provided ample time to further examine the kaildo-web. The first course of action I took was to download some useful apps, ranging from the mundane to the highly specialized.
Just before I set off, I'd visited one of the newest features added to the Modern Magecraft site, an app store. It was relatively fresh, offering a small selection, but it held a few gems such as a Reinforcement app, Runic Compiler, Angel Finder, Numerology Calculator, Black Ice Bounded Field, Hacking Suite, and a Universal Adapter. Shallow, but potentially useful spells. And what was better was this iPhone skipped over the paywall.
Turning my attention to the camp timeline, I discovered it didn't connect to the internet there as I'd previously assumed, but instead, to something termed 'HEAVENET'. It appeared to be a theo-scientific version of ARPANET, and it was intriguing, to say the least. There were thought-provoking schematics, including something referred to as prayer-engines. I also found textbooks that elucidated how the technology in that world operated, both in theory and practice, along with numerous treatises on the divine art of creation.
I promptly sent Archer an email about my findings, attaching links to the magecraft app store for his perusal.
Eventually, in the dim evening light, we reached our destination. But it wasn't Hawkins. It was a neighboring town named Bloomington, where a small matter required my attention.
Pinpointing the correct house was a simple task, but it left me with a minor nosebleed to tend to. At least my slime would be well-fed.
In one hand, I held the ringing crop, one of the five forms the Searing Kiss could take: a ruby amulet, handheld radio, Elven cloak, stone grail, and the crop itself. As a wand, the crop was unmatched, and it doubled as a weapon. Since it would raise questions to change its form in the presence of the uninitiated, I stuck to the crop. Besides, holding a riding crop felt instinctively right to me.
The door was answered by an older, blond woman. Her tone was gruff initially, but her expression warmed once she took me in. Good looks came in handy more often than not.
"Becky Ives?" I posed the question, even though I was sure I had the right house. Confirmation never hurt.
"Yes," she confirmed.
I possessed many ways to guide men and women onto the path I envisioned for them. Some methods were crude, like hypnotism, while others, like the art I picked up from observing Saruman, were subtler.
Yet, in this case, none of those were necessary. All it took were these words, "I'm here to heal your sister."
"I can't say why I trust you," Becky Ives confessed as she ushered me into her house, "Perhaps it's desperation. Yet, there's something about you that makes me believe you're sincere. So how do you plan to 'fix' her?"
"Through psychic healing," I offered something closer to an outright lie than a half-truth, but true nonetheless from a certain point of view.
"That's right up Terry's alley," she mused, her hand fluttering with nervous energy. "She was all about that—psychic powers, mystic energy, all that jazz." She reached for a pack of cigarettes, pausing to ask, "Do you mind?"
"Those are quite harmful to your health," I responded, locking her gaze and lacing my voice with a hint of hypnotism, "You should consider quitting."
"Maybe," she conceded, putting the pack away. My hypnotic influence wouldn't last with the minuscule Od I invested, but it created a window of opportunity. "Your nose is bleeding," she pointed out.
Her observation brought my attention to the warm trickle of blood from my nostrils—an annoyance, indeed. Furthermore, it was an overt giveaway to anyone familiar with psychic phenomena.
Pretending to fetch a handkerchief from my pocket, I discreetly morphed a portion of the Five Colored Slime into the said item. It was my blood; I wouldn't let it go to waste.
"Just a frequent occurrence," I replied nonchalantly, dabbing away the blood. "May I proceed with your sister's treatment?"
"And what's the price?" she challenged, her gaze sharpening.
"For you? Nothing," I assured her, a gentle smile on my lips. "However, once she's well, I need to discuss some matters with your sister."
"Follow me, then. She's in the living room, engrossed in the television. It seems to soothe her."
She guided me into an adjoining room where a blonde woman—bearing a striking resemblance to Becky—sat in a rocking chair, her eyes glazed over the small television set. They were sisters, after all.
As I stepped into the room, Becky trailed behind.
The first step: consecration. I defined the walls as boundaries, tweaked the supplementary parameters, and quietly established a Bounded Field by positioning my hands in prayer, the riding crop sandwiched between them.
Y H V H
The Bounded Field served a dual purpose. It facilitated a more effective healing process, and it also contained any potential magical energy leakage. Although detection wasn't a major concern, this wasn't some desolate salt mine repurposed as a lab. We were near Hawkins and its array of supernatural entities—a measure of caution wouldn't go amiss.
"The room... it feels like a church now. Why is that?" Becky's eyes widened, curiosity piqued.
"You're more perceptive than I anticipated. But it's not unexpected, considering you're her aunt. Blood often resonates in such situations."
"Aunt? What on earth are you implying? I'm not an aunt to anyone."
Ignoring her confusion, I asked, "May I proceed?"
She shot me a piercing look, then nodded. "Go ahead."
I had acquired a wealth of experience in healing magecraft over time. And jewel magecraft was aptly suited to it. Gems have long been revered as symbols of vitality and longevity.
But as I initiated the spell to restore Terry, a revelation struck me like a lightning bolt.
What really was healing?
What did it truly mean to heal someone?
The Cartesian perspective, a reductionist approach championed by René Descartes, posits that all operational entities, be they flora or fauna, can be broken down into the interactions of their components, not unlike the ticking of a clock dictated by the intricate dance of its internal gears, powered by the ebb and flow of the pendulum.
Perceiving the body as a contraption and myself as a repairman tasked with fixing this intricate machine – it was a pragmatic approach, albeit a shallow one.
There was more to the art of healing.
Healing is often characterized as the process of uniting various aspects of one's self – body, mind, and spirit – at deeper levels of self-awareness, leading to integration and equilibrium where each aspect holds equal importance and value.
This perspective draws closer to the teachings of Aristotle and subsequently Hildegard von Bingen's "Physica," a work that greatly influenced the practice of jewel magecraft, particularly in the realm of healing.
The equilibrium between the four humors, the interplay of hot and cold, warm and dry, and the use of gems to restore this balance once disrupted.
The dynamics of stasis and motion.
The delicate dance between instruction and dialogue.
In the midst of this healing process, the realization dawned on me. If the body was a machine to be repaired, where did I find the original blueprint? How did I define the proper balance, what constituted the perfect elemental composition of a human being?
The answer lay within the soul. The soul housed the perfect imprint of the body in its healthiest state. I had plenty of examples to confirm this, particularly from my visit to Arda. The challenge was accessing this data without causing damage to the soul itself.
Observation inherently brought about change. In a state of perfection, any change would invariably be viewed as corruption.
This was knowledge I already possessed. But it was only now that I was beginning to understand how it all fits together. Rather than groping in the dark, touching the trunk, ear, or tail, I was beginning to perceive the shape of the whole elephant.
Her body was a machine, and I mended it. Her mind was a glitch-riddled program, and I debugged it.
She had been trapped in a cage of flesh and memory, a result of power abuse and malice. All I did was show her the way out, and she emerged from it of her own free will, like a butterfly from a cocoon.
Both these perspectives held true, but they were merely facets of a far more complex truth. The truth about the soul, a concept that defied explanation. It could only be experienced.
The visible part of the process was the glow of golden sparks near Terry. Tentatively, she reached out and touched one, murmuring to herself, "So pretty..."
"Terry," Becky cried out, her voice filled with an almost painful hope. "You're standing! You're speaking!"
"Becky? What are you..." Terry began, but her sentence was cut short as Becky rushed to her, embracing her tightly while tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your reunion," I interjected, "But Terry, your daughter managed to escape from Dr. Brenner. We need to act quickly if we want to prevent him from reclaiming her."