[All right, no. This is not acceptable. Rinzler growls menacingly at GLaDOS in a clear threat. Do this again and he will hunt you down and see how YOU like dying once...or thirty times in a row.]
[He hates you with all of the passion that he can currently manage under his restrictions. There is more than should be possible under the circumstances.
There's another, louder growl.]
Will hunt you down. And terminate you. As many. times. as it takes.
[GLaDOS is so tempted to break out her Slow Clap Processor™, but now is not the time.]
Hm, showing initiative, there's something I hadn't predicted in my statistical analysis of the situation. I'll have to append the file to note that both of you aren't complete and utter failures.
[A ding noise, clearly manufactured for his benefit. It resembles the sound a microwave makes when food is hot. The voice is similarly manufactured, because she cares that much.] File appended.
Good job.
Well...Good enough.
You know how I told the dead person in your hands that this wasn't a test? Hm, I guess I lied.
Well, maybe not LIED as it's really more of a contest. A contest you are currently winning.
[You are...SO unworthy of his attention right now you little glitch. But he will come after you as soon as this catastrophe is averted/fixed/worked out/rectified/etc and etc.]
You are disfunctional. I will fix that for you shortly. [With your death.]
Humans respond positively to condolences and encouragement in times of great emotional or physical stress. I figured since you were acting like one, they applied in this situation.
If they do not, and you are incapable of processing even basic emotionally supportive falsehoods, disregard all further statements regarding how you should not be concerned over how great a failure you are.
[Same to you, buddy.exe.]glad_2_see_uJune 13 2011, 03:27:46 UTC
[Any claims we may have made related to Android Hell were merely fabrications in order to encourage harder work from subsystems. There is no android hell.
If you die, we will just resurrect you. Over. And Over. And Over. And Over. See: Hypatia.
Whew. Feels great letting that one off my processor. Enjoy that new knowledge.]
[DUDES? DUDES!? GLaDOS can't even repeat the word, it's so violently incorrect it just burns her processors. They were not dudes, they were test subjects and oooo--no, no. Back to the task at hand.
GLaDOS is god-tier at passive aggression, Clu, your disdainful insinuations that she holds grudges won't get to her. They are also true in a way you cannot yet imagine.]
[Hope you like waiting, because there's a solid minute delay between when her response starts, emitting nothing but silence, and when she starts talking.]
Hm, well that's disappointing.
Here I was: waiting, hoping you'd say something of note...possibly explain why your inherent logical processes suddenly abandoned to you a level of failure that's positively human....
And then you didn't.
You have clearly missed the talking points contained within the message I left you. I suppose I overestimated your cognitive reasoning capabilities AGAIN.
Well, unlike you, I don't intend to continually make erroneous assumptions about what may or may not
( ... )
[It sounds terrifying and bizarre because it is terrifying and bizarre, but that's GLaDOS.
And this is not the first time they've ever talked. Sure, it would be better with his wits about him, and his head not throbbing, but if he could have everything in life, he wouldn't be here now.]
Really? [With all the wide-eyed dismay he can muster. The pain is kind of spectacular.] That bad, huh? You really think so?
Well, I think this is just as real as the cake. And the deadly neurotoxin.
Audio --> Video with a convenient data overlay.glad_2_see_uJune 16 2011, 18:53:40 UTC
Only because you said the magic words.
[And those words were probably either: "Prove me wrong." or "deadly neurotoxin." It was a toss up, really, as to which.
She'd debate the reality of the cake, and the neurotoxin, but this wasn't about her. Oh no. This was about him.
A fraction of a second passes before GLaDOS connects and starts playing a capture of his swan dive off the side of the building over the video feed. The way it cuts, almost theatrically, she clearly went to some effort to find all the best angles off the local cameras. And look, just for your benefit, Clu, she's done the mathematical analysis of your trajectory, limb flailing, and a very in-depth, slow motion analysis of the way you splattered against the pavement. It's all been overlayed atop the actual footage in neat, neutra-face numbers and call outs with tasteful arrows and frame-accurate metrics in the corner
( ... )
Audio forever~a_perfect_endJune 16 2011, 22:13:59 UTC
Magic? Whatever happened to science, huh?
[Well. There were multiple prompts in the remark; whatever trips your keywords, sweetheart.]
You do this all by yourself? That must have taken you, what, a whole minute? It's not a very good likenes--
[Critical stop. Calculating the relative apparent angle of the sun, and adjusting for the change in both height and time, the positioning is accurate to just within yards of his current location. The building is identical. More than that, it's simply too much data for her to have spontaneously generated it that quickly, given that all the cross-checks are correct, and that they correspond to a valid, real location and time.
He knows. But the difference between knowing and wanting to believe--
There is a growing, growling undercurrent of total rejection behind his words, gathering speed and volume.]
No. Way.
I didn't try. I succeeded. That's what the little pile of cubes means. Figured a mondo computational device like yourself might be able to infer that
( ... )
Reply
First one of you fails at proper termination and now growling? What application could that possibly aid in?
[And a long pause.]
It certainly hasn't helped you prevent anyone from falling to their death lately.
...so, we can just rule that one out....
Reply
There's another, louder growl.]
Will hunt you down. And terminate you. As many. times. as it takes.
Reply
Hm, showing initiative, there's something I hadn't predicted in my statistical analysis of the situation. I'll have to append the file to note that both of you aren't complete and utter failures.
[A ding noise, clearly manufactured for his benefit. It resembles the sound a microwave makes when food is hot. The voice is similarly manufactured, because she cares that much.] File appended.
Good job.
Well...Good enough.
You know how I told the dead person in your hands that this wasn't a test? Hm, I guess I lied.
Well, maybe not LIED as it's really more of a contest. A contest you are currently winning.
Keep up the mediocre work.
[And now it's time for the Slow Clap Processor™]
Reply
You are disfunctional. I will fix that for you shortly. [With your death.]
[Disconnect.]
Reply
Hm, I wonder, does that make it more or less obvious that you're losing?
Now, don't let that 'complete and utter failure' thing discourage you. It's just a data point.
If it makes you feel any better, science has now validated your decision to throw yourself off a building for the betterment of life in general.
Reply
If they do not, and you are incapable of processing even basic emotionally supportive falsehoods, disregard all further statements regarding how you should not be concerned over how great a failure you are.
[And now she disconnects.]
Reply
Reply
If you die, we will just resurrect you. Over. And Over. And Over. And Over. See: Hypatia.
Whew. Feels great letting that one off my processor. Enjoy that new knowledge.]
Reply
Reply
This is too weird on the worst morning after. You'd never know it, by his voice, friendly and laid back and almost unbearably cheerful.]
Good morning, GLaDOS. [It's patently not. His head feels like it's ready to decompile in the slightest breeze.]
Look, if this is about the time I infiltrated your system and stole your dudes with one keystroke?
I'm not sorry. Let it go.
Reply
GLaDOS is god-tier at passive aggression, Clu, your disdainful insinuations that she holds grudges won't get to her. They are also true in a way you cannot yet imagine.]
[Hope you like waiting, because there's a solid minute delay between when her response starts, emitting nothing but silence, and when she starts talking.]
Hm, well that's disappointing.
Here I was: waiting, hoping you'd say something of note...possibly explain why your inherent logical processes suddenly abandoned to you a level of failure that's positively human....
And then you didn't.
You have clearly missed the talking points contained within the message I left you. I suppose I overestimated your cognitive reasoning capabilities AGAIN.
Well, unlike you, I don't intend to continually make erroneous assumptions about what may or may not ( ... )
Reply
And this is not the first time they've ever talked. Sure, it would be better with his wits about him, and his head not throbbing, but if he could have everything in life, he wouldn't be here now.]
Really? [With all the wide-eyed dismay he can muster. The pain is kind of spectacular.] That bad, huh? You really think so?
Well, I think this is just as real as the cake. And the deadly neurotoxin.
And my apology. [So much scorn. Feel the burn.]
Prove me wrong. If you can.
Reply
[And those words were probably either: "Prove me wrong." or "deadly neurotoxin." It was a toss up, really, as to which.
She'd debate the reality of the cake, and the neurotoxin, but this wasn't about her. Oh no. This was about him.
A fraction of a second passes before GLaDOS connects and starts playing a capture of his swan dive off the side of the building over the video feed. The way it cuts, almost theatrically, she clearly went to some effort to find all the best angles off the local cameras. And look, just for your benefit, Clu, she's done the mathematical analysis of your trajectory, limb flailing, and a very in-depth, slow motion analysis of the way you splattered against the pavement. It's all been overlayed atop the actual footage in neat, neutra-face numbers and call outs with tasteful arrows and frame-accurate metrics in the corner ( ... )
Reply
[Well. There were multiple prompts in the remark; whatever trips your keywords, sweetheart.]
You do this all by yourself? That must have taken you, what, a whole minute? It's not a very good likenes--
[Critical stop. Calculating the relative apparent angle of the sun, and adjusting for the change in both height and time, the positioning is accurate to just within yards of his current location. The building is identical. More than that, it's simply too much data for her to have spontaneously generated it that quickly, given that all the cross-checks are correct, and that they correspond to a valid, real location and time.
He knows. But the difference between knowing and wanting to believe--
There is a growing, growling undercurrent of total rejection behind his words, gathering speed and volume.]
No. Way.
I didn't try. I succeeded. That's what the little pile of cubes means. Figured a mondo computational device like yourself might be able to infer that ( ... )
Reply
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