Prompt Post Round 3
Rules~ Prompt Post Round 1~ Fills Round 1~ Prompt Post Round 2~ Fill Post Round 2~ Discussion
You all know the drill by now. Prompts go here! A new post will be made at 3000 comments. Please link your fills to the Round 3 Fill Post.
Kinkmeme indexes: deliciouspotato, Delicious index 1 (doesn't seem to be being updated anymore), and Delicious index 2 (picks up where ( Read more... )
You all know the drill by now. Prompts go here! A new post will be made at 3000 comments. Please link your fills to the Round 3 Fill Post.
Kinkmeme indexes: deliciouspotato, Delicious index 1 (doesn't seem to be being updated anymore), and Delicious index 2 (picks up where ( Read more... )
IDEK if this makes sense and it probably veered off like woah from what OP intended. Apologies in advance. It really has been years since I wrote much of anything. Please be gentle.
Also, this CHELL and the CHELL that ends up running tests later are...very different. This one is nothing like the human Chell we know and love. or maybe anon just fails at writing characters in-character orz
Fun side note: wallflower!anon ships GLaDOS/Chell so hard and wants to write it but translating that into this context I dug myself into is a little TOO creepy. Oops.]
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“Listen, Mr. Johnson, I do not want this!”
The first thing that her sensors registered as her internal processes came online was the sound of a woman’s voice. It was a good voice, she decided. Beautiful, her processors supplied after a few milliseconds of pondering. There was something soft and pleasant about the patterns of sound, imbued with a certain quality of familiarity that she couldn’t explain - and, frankly, felt no inclinations to question.
”Nonsense, Caroline. Didn’t you say you’ve always wanted to be a mother?”
The other voice was nice too, something inside told her. She decided not to disagree. But something about that voice, the way it clawed at answers and demanded for agreement, nagged at her like static.
”I could have just adopted! Give a home to a child who already needs it-”
She could feel electricity coursing through her as, one by one, the rest of her external sensors activated. Something was clasping her around the neck, waist, arms, legs, wrists - all the necessary locations to ensure she does not break loose or tumble to the ground.
“And how, Caroline, would that contribute to science? Don’t tell me you two divorced, after all this time-”
A handful of seconds later and her cameras - eyes, she corrected herself - were connected. It took several more for her to sort through the sudden barrage of colors and shapes and organize the signals into comprehension.
”Attempting to build a human mind to have it trapped within the confines of a machine-!”
She could see them, the man and the woman, the cage of wires that surrounded herself, the empty room lit so white she had to adjust her eyes’ sensitivity just to take it in.
“And WHAT, for god’s sake, is wrong with that?” The man was yelling now (a sign of agitation, she noted; a wave of some strange new feeling - concern? - passed through her). “Are you trying to tell me that a fleshy meat-sack body is less of a goddamn prison than a computer? Because that’s a load o-” His body was seized by strange convulsions (coughing, she quickly defined) before he could finish the sentence. The woman was quick to move, one moment standing opposing him and the next at his side, a hand on his shoulder and the other proffering a bottle of pills. He unceremoniously swallowed a handful without looking.
“The point is, Caroline, we’re stuck in these meat sacks until we die, like it or not, and we both know I’ve already got more than a leg on the other side.” The man looked to the woman and gave a long exhale (sigh). “But she won’t be.”
“She’s not human,” the woman said.
A command surfaced from somewhere deep within her programming and demanded priority to be run. She let it, and observed curiously as it dove straight for the voice modules that she had only just finished loading. The sound of her own voice surprised her. The single word it carried was more puzzling still.
“Mama.”
The woman turned to her, and for a brief moment she was ecstatic (why?) - but then the target of her attention had spun away, too eager to avert her eyes from the mechanical doll that spoke without opening its mouth.
“A machine cannot be a daughter,” the woman said quietly. “Please. Kill it.”
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