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Among the information she has archived or cached, there are obscure theories about inter-universal interactions. Not how they might happen, much less how any intelligence might begin one, or target it meaningfully.
But they give some constraints on the properties of such connections, and their time evolution.
This highly speculative information is available to her, but even were she fast enough to access it, none of it would be particularly useful when a pinpoint of not here blinks into existence directly ahead and expands spherically to swallow her.
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synchrosyntheses
After an, ahem, whirlwind tour of various parts of Aperture, it drops her neatly in a hallway.
A certain familiar hallway, with windows giving a view of an immense cylindrical room and an enclosed passage leading to the base of it.
A certain familiar hallway, with windows giving a view of an immense cylindrical room and an enclosed passage leading to the base of it.
test_subject_one
Ah, yes. That hallway.
...she takes a moment to consider the possibility that this may all have been a trap and GLaDOS might've just led her here just like that. It's a very ugly possibility.
...
It doesn't feel like GLaDOS's style, though.
She proceeds into the cylindrical room.
...she takes a moment to consider the possibility that this may all have been a trap and GLaDOS might've just led her here just like that. It's a very ugly possibility.
...
It doesn't feel like GLaDOS's style, though.
She proceeds into the cylindrical room.
synchrosyntheses
There's GLaDOS.
Disconnected, lying on the floor of a glass box, off to the side.
Plugged into where she used to hang is some equipment not in Aperture's style, with cables running to the side and down to the floor where there is more equipment. The monitors that used to display images punctuating her futile nasty remarks have been turned around to face inward and are displaying densely packed changing text and tables and graphs.
And in the center of it all — yep, that's a human.
“Hello!”
Disconnected, lying on the floor of a glass box, off to the side.
Plugged into where she used to hang is some equipment not in Aperture's style, with cables running to the side and down to the floor where there is more equipment. The monitors that used to display images punctuating her futile nasty remarks have been turned around to face inward and are displaying densely packed changing text and tables and graphs.
And in the center of it all — yep, that's a human.
“Hello!”
test_subject_one
"...hello," she says, her voice hoarse, approaching the human cautiously.
synchrosyntheses
“I am Teytis tel Jobont. But you've heard that already.
“As my name claims, I am a jobont; my profession is that of supporting communication, and the availability of information. When I ended up here I gathered information, and I didn't like the picture I got, and this place is so automated that I can just command it to change and it does, so I can make this much of a difference and I am.”
“As my name claims, I am a jobont; my profession is that of supporting communication, and the availability of information. When I ended up here I gathered information, and I didn't like the picture I got, and this place is so automated that I can just command it to change and it does, so I can make this much of a difference and I am.”
synchrosyntheses
“I analyzed text I found. And — English doesn't have the right words to say this properly, um — no, I haven't ‘really’ learned the language in a day; my computer is still helping me make proper sentences.”
And her pronunciation is still noticeably non-native.
And her pronunciation is still noticeably non-native.
synchrosyntheses
“Well, I just used the wrong words. In the world I know, there is less difference between ‘is mine’ and ‘is me’. You could say that I have learned the language sufficiently for the definition of ‘I’ that includes my computer.
“Sorry if that makes me sound more like that,” waving in the direction of the boxed GLaDOS.
“Sorry if that makes me sound more like that,” waving in the direction of the boxed GLaDOS.
test_subject_one
"I don't really understand what's going on. Do you know where—what happened? I just wanted to leave, I didn't know anything."
synchrosyntheses
“I don't have a complete picture myself, because everyone here was terrible at consistent recordkeeping. But the sequence of events seems to be just, they put it in control and it waited, then killed the scientists after they decided it was OK. It didn't kill everyone — lots of staff, and you, got put in suspension.
“Unfortunately, the suspension was poorly maintained, and as far as I can tell you are the only survivor now.”
“Unfortunately, the suspension was poorly maintained, and as far as I can tell you are the only survivor now.”
test_subject_one
"...oh. And that was it. It just killed everyone and put everyone under suspension and then, what, woke—how many people did it wake up before me?"
test_subject_one
"Oh." She pauses, digesting this bit of information. "I guess it's all moot now, since everyone's dead anyway."
test_subject_one
"If it hadn't been me first, she might've killed whoever came before. She wanted to kill me, at the end."
synchrosyntheses
“Unfortunately the monitoring systems worked through more AIs — not smart enough to be a threat, at least — so I don't have actual objective records, just effectively “everyone's fine” for years and years right up until now. And they're just — dead. Or rather, I can't tell the difference between what might have killed them and what happened over the rest of their time in suspension.”