“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?” -Ernest Hemmingway
Day #23
It's been about three weeks since I arrived in the stupendously asinine world of Equestria. Is it getting any better? Well, as the humans would say, 'Hell no’.
Chances of me returning home in one piece-43.7%
Chances of me hucking myself off a cliff-56.3%.
No matter how hard I try, which is with little effort mind you, I just cannot grasp the concept of these stupid grass-chewers' culture. How does any of this work? It makes no sense! How can they have night-vision goggles and inhuman forms of locomotion yet not have anything with an actual screen!?
That's it. I'm losing it. When the hell is Twilight getting back? I haven't seen her since she nearly climaxed at the sight of my lab report on the Cockatrice. Oh, speaking of which, it looks great in the corner of my bedroom. Very menacing. Can you believe Fluttershy made that all by herself? Funny story, she actually looked uglier than usual when returning the finished product, like she was a zombie. I'm surprised she didn't have a mental breakdown.
Wait a second, I think I have an idea. A test, but a different kind. Anyone who knows me, aside from these thick-skulled horses, knows my favorite past time aside from testing is inflicting psychological tortures on others. It's a thought, but I am very interested in seeing what makes little dough-eyed Fluttershy tick. Hey, why not all of them? If, lord have mercy, I never return to Aperture, if I can't go back, then breaking this circle of friends would leave me to die a happy soul. I can picture it now.
Glados stopped writing for a moment, staring tiredly into the dancing flames tucked away in her fireplace. The shadows painted onto the refurbished walls bounced in near-perfect rhythm to the boisterous music outside.
The heavy bass, which Glados found to be quite catchy, echoed throughout the emptied streets of Ponyville, reminding the one, isolated citizen that tonight was the Summer Sun Celebration. From her window she could see the massive bonfire that stood just as tall as the Town Hall. Crammed in the center was every mare, stallion, filly and colt in Ponyville, singing, dancing, or just having fun.
What caught Glados' discerning eye was the silhouette of Fluttershy hovering beyond the towering inferno, dancing, and looking happier than ever. For reasons she couldn't explain, Glados allowed this to bother her. She expected Fluttershy to be holed up in her room, consuming her own bodily fluids to stay alive.
But here she was. Dancing, smiling. Either she was really drunk, or it was a full moon tonight. I'm going with the latter.
Glados softly laughed, finding the ponies' naïve way of life to be quite amusing for a change. Sacrificing precious sleep for the sun to rise? It's worse than waiting for the ball drop around New Year's Eve. At least that's not something you see everyday. But the sun? That symbolic, ticking time bomb?
She shook her head, reminding herself that the sun here was most likely different from the one in the 'real world’. The scientist picked up her pen and continued writing.
Word about my 'heroics' got around town pretty quickly. I'm not sure if it was the marshmallow child, her ungodly sister, or both, but whoever talked made me out to be some kind of hero. That isn't quite the word I would use. The candy horse with the hilarious voice, what was her name? Ah, yes. Bon Bon. She said I was, and I quote, '-a true heroine that risked her own life to uncover the secrets of a dangerous and horrid monster to save a filly's life. While her methods were unorthodox, they certainly produce results.'
In other words, I'm a scientist. By their definition, at least.
Oh, and I have a discount at Bon Bon's candy shop next time I go there. If I go there. Well if that's the case, I think I'll use Celestia's presumed 'research bonus' to buy the whole shop and burn it down right in front of the establishment's owner. That'd be one for the books.
-GLaDOS
After signing her name, Glados rolled up the parchment and placed it on the ever-growing stack of journal entries on her nightstand. Upon exiting her bedroom, she glanced up at the clock. It was 11:34 p.m., and the party outside showed no signs of ending.
Finding it impossible to sleep, Glados decided to get a head start on these possible future experiments. She opened the drawer of her coffee table and took out several sheets of paper.
The header for the next experiment was entitled, ‘Project: Disharmony’
Glados frowned and crumpled up the paper into a ball, throwing it into the pit of fire. This... this is a project that has to be done in segments. I mean, some of the equines will take no skill at all. Rarity's highly insecure about her weight and appearance; Rainbow Dash is terrified of failure, but Applejack... she's like a brick wall. And like a brick wall, she's dumb yet sturdy.
As Glados thought about this extensively, in detail, the desire to test seemed voided. What's the point of this? Besides satisfaction, what would I gain from breaking their spirits? Aside from sheer entertainment, I’ve always had a real reason for inflicting psychological abuse on others.
She looked off to the side, hoping for answers. All she found was the cockatrice staring back at her, glaring with marble-substituted eyes. Its head craned down, almost touching the floor. Its wings flared open like it was ready to strike.
Examining the creature's biology for probably the hundredth time, a sudden realization hit Glados with unexpected surprise. A disgusting Frankenstein... that's what you are. It was so obvious; with the head of a chicken, the torso of an eagle, and the hindquarters of a lion, the whole anatomy of this cockatrice was just a mishmash of different animals.
In fact, as she thought about it more and more, every animal, the mythical ones at least, was some sort of repulsive mutation of a normal critter. This was the final straw. Glados had, indeed, lost every ounce of logic and thought. Her once semi-stable mind suddenly filled with horrific, cluttered ideas.
Or maybe she was going into her third night without sleep.
In a world with manticores, cockatrices, and ahuizotl, she thought while making a steady excursion towards the stuffed beast. Then what's the harm in one more?
Glados' smile grew, becoming progressively crooked as sanity and insanity fought for control of her mind. Reaching the creature, she sat on her haunches and cupped its chin in her forehooves.
Gently stroking its wattle, Glados thought, In a world unbound by magic, is it possible to create... life? Realizing what she was just thinking -that heinous, taboo, idea of an experiment- the mare pushed herself away from the monster and took a deep, recollecting breath.
What the hell is happening to me!? I'm losing my mind here! I can't create life, and even if I could, it'd be... it'd be... An abomination? A miracle? Glados knew what happened in the movies. Scientists would finally do it, pour every ounce of their spare time into the project, then back out when it's finally done.
But Glados isn't a normal scientist. In fact, she's always been one to go against the bounds of man. Being ‘created’ instead of born into flesh and blood, she never had a drop of the morals and ethics normal people had. She certainly isn't going to start now. Although, maybe these rules never applied to her not because she was a supposedly emotionless machine, but because something she saw shaped her views on the scientific world.
Decades ago, when GLaDOS was but a piece of data on a floppy disk, scientists were still tinkering with her mind before instilling the finished product into the central core. Except they were doing less 'tinkering' and more 'slouching about like a pack of deadbeat slobs.’ In fact, most of Aperture's lesser scientists were a bunch of low-brow deadbeat slobs, but that's besides the point.
The careless would always leave GLaDOS in a lone monitor, free to explore the world wide web. Protocol dictated where she could access, so the facility’s neurotoxin defenses were out of the question.
One day, a scientist accidentally recorded a movie over GLaDOS' disk. That film was the 1931 classic, 'Frankenstein’.
As the scientists watched the movie, GLaDOS was forced to, technically, 'watch' it as well. But like a moth to a flame, the still-budding A.I. was attracted to the film's peculiar and interesting take on science. The final thoughts on the film stuck with GLaDOS forever. Well, almost forever. When she was finally installed into the central core, she deleted nearly all memories of the experience and tried to take over the facility. This failed of course, over one-hundred times to be exact, but that's also a different story.
But the movie always had a special presence in GLaDOS’ mind. Not thoughts like 'How to make an eight-foot green skinned colossus’, but thoughts along the lines of, 'What are the true boundaries of science? If you create life, is it really immoral or the next big step for humanity?' In fact, GLaDOS, the turrets, and all 1,008 personality cores running the facility disprove this fact completely. Scientists created life, and their successors took over.
Survival of the fittest, as a wise man once said.
This is what shaped GLaDOS' persistent views on science, as well as why she sees failure as never being an option. To push the boundaries, and go beyond.
The more Glados thought about this clouded part of her past, she began thinking rationally. Well, to this exhausted mare, an unlicensed lobotomy would seem rational. Maybe I can create life of my own. As she thought about it, her desire grew. If I can create the perfect life form, it can take over... and become these equines’ successor. Complete control.
Glados, with her insomnia now in full control, got up on her hind legs and became theatrical, "Aperture's label marked across the stars! Across the multiverse!" She chuckled with an uncomfortable calmness, "It'll be sublime."
The science mare got up and walked out of her room, taking one last look at the stuffed Cockatrice. From the bird’s point of view, Glados’ near-silhouetted body was outlined in ember by the glow emanating from her fireplace. "My own disgusting Frankenstein..."
And you know what? she thought, returning to the stack of papers on the coffee table, I might just hold off on breaking Fluttershy's mind. For now, anyway. Not even realising the purpose of the prior experiment was for all of Fluttershy’s friends, Glados took an anticipating glance at her trophy. I’ve got big plans for you, my friend. Great changes are coming.
A psychotic grin spread across Glados’ face—one so wide she felt her face was going to split. Trudging at a tired pace, the science mare parked in front of the mirror in her bathroom and got a good look at herself. Her already bedraggled, dark mane in an even more chaotic mess of tangles, the heavy bags under her glazed, sunset-colored eyes, and the instantaneously shattered smile sulked into a shamed frown.
She instinctively rose a hoof and smacked herself across the face. “Get a hold of yourself!” she screamed, her voice echoing throughout the enclosed bathroom space.
It was right then and there that Glados discovered the true source of her... ‘weirder than usual’ behavior. “Of course,” she muttered, running her hooves under the faucet and splashing some cold water on her face. The sudden, icy sensation reinvigorated her senses. “I’ve been awake for three days straight, either kept up for a multitude of reasons or obsessing over stupid experiments like...” she turned and looked out into the hallway, as if the Cocaktrice was stationed outside her door, “...like that.”
Glados reached for a rust-colored towel draped on a nearby rack, using it to dry herself and fluffing the fur around her muzzle. “Stupid... stupid... stupid,” the sleep-deprived pony muttered to herself in constant succession, scrubbing even harder to the point where the area around her face became red and irritated.
The curse of being mortal, she thought dismally, Gone are the days where I am able to stay up for weeks on end without having to power down and recharge. Oh, wait. I never had to do that in the first place. Well, that’s another reason as to why organics are inferior to machines.
As Glados stared at her own ghastly reflection, exhaling in broken, shuddered gasps, Vinyl Scratch’s emphatic voice resounded all the way from town square via enhancement by an abhorrently obnoxious microphone. “Alright lil’ fillies! Y’know, we’ve spent all night praising our... dear, dear Princess Celestia.” Her voice took a smooth, sultry tone, “But how’s about one for the lovely mare who brings out this go-orgous night?” A mass of positive, ecstatic cheers followed.
The ensuing music was a smooth mix of techno and jazz, reflecting the tranquil night to a capital ‘T’.
Glados knew in certainty that the peace would last only for a brief span of time, and one thing was a given: she needed sleep. Now.
Even better, she had the perfect solution that she’s been aching to try out, even though it was built last night during her little insomniac episode.
As Glados trotted up the creaky, aged stairs to her science lab, and inspecting all of the old Equestrian machinery lying in scrapped heats on fold-up tables, she came to a logical conclusion on why a lack of sleep led to such bizarre scenarios. I must be going through test withdrawal...
Allowing the thought to sink in, Glados promptly smacked herself again. Groggily, she plunked down onto her haunches and wrapped her forelegs in a self-embrace. With all the self-inflicted physical abuse, insomnia, and adherent bitterness, Glados felt as though she would collapse on the spot.
No... I can’t. I won’t. Not while those insolent creatures are ‘partying’ while I suffer from five different health issues, three of which are caused by them.
“This’d better work.” Glados was unsure of how exactly this experiment would go. It would either work perfectly, or horribly backfire. Either way, it was a win-win situation. For her, of course.
Where was the exhausted pony? On the very hill her house stood on, overlooking the humble town of Ponyville. To be more exact, she was sitting on a bulky electronic amp; her hind legs were parted so they hung on either side of the megaphone taped to the speaker. From the back of the machine, a cord connected to the electric guitar Glados held in her forelegs. Beside the amp, lying on the ground, was a clipboard and pen.
She didn't question how a pony would find use in a stringed instrument, considering they don't have fingers, because they're ponies. So logic doesn’t apply.
To be brutally honest, Glados wasn’t even expecting this to work. When she read that ponies were able to breath in space, everything she knew about basic science just flew out the window. For all she knew, this could simply turn out to be a cure for disease, or a tool that turns water into wine. In Equestria, anything is possible.
Glados did a triple check to make sure her earmuffs were snug and secure, in case this testing run went sideways. She certainly wouldn’t want her eardrums to implode.
Glados took a final look at the soon-to-be crashed party. She could see the bonfire from her overlook, almost towering over Town Hall. She smiled at the thought of a single spark setting the town ablaze.
Well... here we go.
Glados rose a foreleg, keeping it in suspension for a few seconds like she was some rockstar waiting for her cue. At least, that’s what it would’ve looked like to the average bystander. In this reality, however, the pony had fallen asleep.
She jolted herself awake, grumbling an incomprehensible string of curses under her breath. In haste, she brought a hoof up once more and awkwardly slammed it against the parallel strings. Of course, no sound came.
There’s a reason why smart people aren’t bloody rockstars.
With blatant laziness and little effort, she nudged her stationed hoof across the strings, soon to become a decision she’d regret in the future.
Glados didn’t even think about what wizardry and space-age technology the ponies used to build this device. The megaphone, rather than spawning a simple attention-grabbing screech, a dynamic wave of sound emitted from its enhancer. This ‘soundwave’ passed through, not the town, but rather a fifteen foot radius. In short, it only affected Glados’ house.
The windows of her home exploded, showering her lawn with hundreds of crystalline shards. The grass blanketing the foundation’s mound abscondedly swayed out, disturbed by the wave of sound sweeping overhead. The blast came to a halt at Glados’ mailbox, indicated by how it was once again ripped from its planted spot in the ground, ejecting its contents into the air like a bushel of autumn leaves.
What about Glados? Where was she? Lying on her back, foaming at the mouth. The earmuffs lay beside the small trickle of blood dripping from her ears. Glados’ hind leg gave the occasional twitch, indicating that she was very much alive.
Glados, with her hearing reduced to nothing but a constant, pitched whine, found the strength to reach for her clipboard and pen.
The top of the paper read, ‘Sonic Amp Emitter Thingy I Built While Half-Asleep’.
She clicked the pen and wrote, ‘Colossal Failure’.
Glados threw the clipboard with little-to-no strength, as if she was moving through molasses. It landed beside her back hooves, not that she cared. She finally fell into a comfortable sleep before it even touched the ground.
With a stir, Glados was roused from her sleep. Upon picking her head up, she winced at the hammered sensation pulsating throughout her skull. Oh... oh my God... Oh, that hurts...
Setting her chin on an elbow-propped hoof, Glados found herself sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of black coffee set before her.
Wearing an azure bathrobe she got from God-knows-where, Glados did nothing more than stare at the caffeine-filled beverage with a set of bloodshot, yellow eyes. In a strange, artistic sort-of-way, her eyes resembled a sunset. If you were to tell this to Glados, she’d splash her scalding hot beverage in your face.
Every joint and muscle in the mare’s body was sore, aching with even the slightest movement. Though, all the pain in the world wouldn’t even compare to the fact that her ears were completely bandaged up.
Glados didn’t have the energy nor the interest in wondering why she woke up at 1:00 in the afternoon, inside her house. Even more peculiar, the broken windows were replaced by pieces of chewed up, flimsy cardboard. Whoever did this left behind two gifts for when she’d regain consciousness.
The first was a bottle of ‘Dr. Hooves’ Cure-All: Straight from the Fountain of Youth!’ Beneath the caption was quite an ironic warning, ‘Warning: Does not cure all including death, amputations, or old age. Talk to your doctor before consuming Cure-All. Keep out of reach of foals.’
Tucked underneath the amber bottle was a little note, giving instructions on taking the remedy.
Fountain of youth? This place just gets better and better.
Curious as to what this world’s interpretation of ‘The Fountain of Youth’ was, Glados painfully reached across the table and took the bottle. Upon unscrewing the cap, a foul odor was released into the air.
Glados’ face scrunched up, as if her nose was trying to reel away from the odor itself. The instructions, written in eye-sore handwriting, gave only one simple rule: ‘Take one sip with breakfast!’
The ebony-white mare, now judging whether the medicines awful scent was augmented by her own odor, tilted her head back and drank nearly half of the bottle. Even with its ungodly odor, it tasted sweet, like honey. Actually, Glados has never tasted honey before. So for all she knew, it could very well be Pinkie Pie’s backwash.
With that pleasant image in her mind, Glados shivered, and recapped the bottle. Glados’ other present was a tray of muffins accompanied by a little sticky note attached to the side. The second she began reading, it was evident who the mysterious stranger was.
‘Don’t worry, Glados! I was able to fix everything while you were still asleep. The window-repair ponies should be here tonight. For now, just deal with the cardboard windows. (I made them myself.) And guess what? I made muffins! They’re banana, your favorite. Get well soon! -:3
P.S. What happened? It looks like you had one crazy night of partying! Hay, it looks even wilder than the one we had last night! I’m sure Vinyl would be pretty upset she missed it.
P.P.S. Wanna go bowling?
The handwriting, though still readable, was worse than a second grader’s. If Glados wasn’t experiencing several forms of pain right now, including the demeaning sensation of last night’s disaster, she’d probably find Ditzy’s sentiment oddly inspiring.
Although Ditzy was probably the first pony to find Glados in her wounded state, and that anypony would lend a hand if she had found her first, there was something off about Ditzy that Glados just couldn’t understand.
Glados brushed it off, thinking it was just another one of Ditzy’s feigned attempts at trying to be friends. While having her late breakfast, Glados tried piecing together the vague details of last night.
Let’s see... I conducted the most embarrassing experiment in history, I’m temporarily deaf, I have brittle bone disease, I’m stuck in a world full of—oh, wait. These are all constant issues. My mistake. There’s just so many of them I tend to lose track.
When Glados tried reaching for another muffin, she realized that they were all gone.
Dear God, I’m a pig! I’m turning into everything I hate! Glados covered her eyes and groaned aloud, not that she could hear herself. Look at me, with my excessive levels of cholesterol and lard-filled gut! She shamefully pat her pudgy stomach, not knowing it was a physical feature commonly shared by most ponies when resting on their haunches.
Ugh... oh, right. Those stupid experiments on breaking Fluttershy’s mind and... that Frankenstein thing. She sighed, looking at the stranger’s disoriented reflection in her black coffee. Maybe I should just scrap those dumb experiments—
Crack!
‘Giving up already? Come on, C--oline! ‘When life gives you lemons?’ Bullshit, life gives you lemons! Get mad! Burn those doubts! Burn those fears! WITH the lemons! When life gives you lemons, shove ‘em down life’s damn throat and laugh! HA! Yeah... that’s the spirit, kid.’
Glados refrained from smacking herself across the face. By this point, with all the weird stuff happening to her, she wasn’t even going to question who that gruff man talking was or how that relates to her.
With tenacity gleaming in her sunflower-colored eyes, Glados got up and tore the bandages off her ears. Interestingly enough, the ‘Cure-All’ worked pretty fast, and it made her hearing better than ever. She could hear the buzz of the fly around her kitchen sink, trying to get at the rotten gore of the Cockatrice caught up in the garbage disposal. She heard the playful cheers of fillies playing down the street, and she even heard the faint ‘Get outta here!’ and ‘Sorry!’ coming from Ditzy Doo and an angry customer.
Glados marched into her living room, thinking with snide purpose and determination, Yeah, I’ll bag these tests. And maybe the moon is made of cream cheese.
Next Time: Nightmares Eternal - Join Eternal, the cousin of Discord and God of Nightmares, as he haunts the dreams of Glados and her friends. Little did he know, haunting Glados was a poor choice on his part.