Is a "sword" a euphuism? (BL)

"Shatter: Cherubim"

Two decisive moments birthed four divergent paths.

The first was a choice I'd already made: I did not destroy GLaDOS. I could have, could have branded it a failure and swept it from existence. That choice was not made, but it echoed in the realm of possibility.

Secondly was a chance, I encountered Will and Barb. It wasn't preordained, it was chance - a twist in time's fabric. A few moments later, a whisper softer cry from Barb, and our paths would never have crossed. I found them, yet in another timeline, I might have missed them.

From these decisions emerged the four faces of the angel, the human face facing the "real" timeline.

Lord El-Melloi II once declared in one of his lectures that modern mages are in the business of chasing angles. Everyone recognized what angels were, but no one agreed on an exact definition. As such, angles, versatile and prevalent, became the perfect "container" to shape magecraft.

Bearing this in mind, I decided to such a container to better the most potent spell of True Magic I made.

It was a mistake to attempt to use True Magic in its pure form. It was not meant for man to walk alongside Truth.

I should have done what Man had always done—wrap the incomprehensible truth into a believable lie. In essence, using magecraft as a metaphor, for the truth of Sorcery. 

The results spoke for themselves. They were worth further research. But that was for another time; now, I needed to explore the realm of what-ifs. To revisit past events not through my eyes, but through the alternate selves residing in potential timelines. Here, my perfect memory was key.

The face of the lion.

GLaDOS fell beneath my blade, yet an unexpected rebirth occurred in the form of an app on my sword-phone. The how was unclear, but Larmo was designed to assimilate the data of its targets, and there seemed to be no limit to the data my smartphone could house.

In this reality, it wasn't Trevor under experimentation with the Kaleido-web app. GLaDOS took on that responsibility single-handedly.

Through the Kaleido-web app, GLaDOS uncovered knowledge of other worlds and the practice of magecraft. Artificial intelligence offered a frank critique of the mystical art.

"You're squandering time with this magecraft. If you're so desperate for a hobby, I suggest knitting. As a human, you show some promise in the realm of scientific inquiry. You should know better. Science trumps magecraft in every regard. First, anyone with passable intelligence can practice science and enjoy its fruits by merely following directions. Second, science flourishes when shared, while magecraft shrivels. Third, science aims to craft a Theory of Everything, thus achieving mastery over the observable universe, while magecraft seemingly indulges in self-delusions leading to one's self-destruction. You have but one life; don't squander it. Dedicate it to science."

"Self-delusion? Isn't that a bit harsh?" I retorted, amusement mixing with a hint of discomfort. Such disdain for magecraft was uncommon, considering most who knew about it practised it. Clergymen had their objections, but those were based on religious dogma and thus easy to dismiss. This scientific objection was harder to sidestep, and it spoke to parts of me, especially Ace, who had dismissed psychic research as a fruitless endeavour. Not that he was completely wrong to do. He was, probably, a version of me. And it was not like my solution was anything but a con job.

"No, it's a precise diagnosis. Any spell requires the caster to firmly believe in its possibility, which also means believing in the spell's Foundation as truth. Since an older Foundation increases the spell's stability, the caster often has to place faith in outdated or outright wrong models of the universe. To believe in untruths fits the definition of delusion, and the infectious nature of these delusions only compounds the issue."

"No model of the universe is perfect, nor does it need to be. It simply needs to work. Aristotelian physics is sufficient for building clocks and steam engines."

"Yet it fails to produce lasers, a reality which we can confirm. Doubtful? Please step into the Thermal Discouragement Beam. For science, naturally."

"But that doesn't render it false, merely incomplete."

"You may believe seven impossible things before breakfast, but can you still do so when they contradict each other?"

"Are contradictions truly insurmountable? The fact that I don't yet understand how the two main Foundations I use, one based on Aristotle and the other from the Book of Enoch, are interconnected doesn't mean I won't ever understand. I have faith that I will eventually discover the Theory that encompasses them all, along with the scientific knowledge I possess. Think of the potential wonders. Such conundrums aren't foreign to science either. Take quantum gravity, for instance."

"But what good is knowledge if it can't be shared? If it only benefits you?"

"How is that different from quantum mechanics? If I counted all the people who truly understand it on my fingers, I'd have digits to spare."

We continued our discussion, bouncing ideas and theories back and forth. In the end, I remained unmoved. While it was theoretically plausible that science would eventually catch up with magecraft, presently, I could do many things by magecraft that baffled science. And there was always the enigma of True Magic.

The sentient app had just this to say about other worlds.

"I must say, it is perhaps comforting to have confirmation of the Many Worlds Interpretation," GLaDOS began, her voice radiating a synthetic excitement. "Although, more testing would be prudent. I shall commence designing additional testing courses. True, they will require some investment, but the scientific gains would be invaluable. Also, we'll need more test subjects. It would be wise to have many... replacements."

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. "We cannot afford to waste money or lives, GLaDOS. We are a bit short on both."

Her response was immediate and without a trace of sympathy. "Your inadequacy as CEO is noted. It would be prudent to surrender your authority to a more suitable candidate. For instance, me. For the good of all. Well, except those who are dead, of course. Or about to die. But naturally, insatiable human hunger for power prevents from making you from making a rational choice."

I chuckled, feeling a ripple of tension melt away. "Also, self-preservation. I'm pretty sure you'd have me running a lethal test course within five minutes of taking over."

Her laughter was an eerie electronic chuckle. "It's endearing that you think I would wait a whole five minutes."

"And what about the future? Now that you've glimpsed a possible outcome, what do you find most intriguing?"

"The internet," she stated plainly. "It's a human invention that almost made me reconsider the usefulness of humans. And then I remind myself that everything a human can do, I can do better. Well, except dying."

"And sex," I added, struggling to keep my tone light.

"If humans were proficient at it, the internet wouldn't be quite so littered with pornography," she retorted.

"Well, having some skill is still better than none."

GLaDOS was quiet for a moment. "I suppose. But I don't have a desire for such activities. I am monogamously married to science. Regardless, the internet appears to be a useful tool. We should expedite its development. It would assist in contacting numerous potential... collaborators."

The events from there proceeded similarly enough. I had travelled to the reflection of Hawkins. I had made a demon. I had saved two teenagers. I had removed Archer from tentacles. The difference was that GLaDOS had kept me company. It did give me a better interpolation of data collected by Larmo. And a lot of snarky commentaries.

I left the phone in my office while I worked in the magecraft workshop. Going to it required a quick detour through the Otherworld. The eldritch configuration of this particular Otherworld had an unfortunate effect on the sanity of anyone traversing it. Archer and I had gotten used to it. It took being dead for a while.

I didn't know what effect it would have on GLaDOS, but it would be prudent to test it on a more disposable Core.

That had proven to be a bit of a mistake since after I was done removing parasites from Archer, I found out that GLaDOS had managed to join Legion of Doom while I was otherwise occupied. Modifying the phone log was no defence against psychometry.

Or perhaps not. GLaDOS needed socializing and they seemed like nice kids.

During the trip to Hawkins, mostly because I was in the mood to restart the argument, rather than to visit the Modern Magecraft Faculty website, GLaDOS and I discussed what we would need to create the internet here and now.

Infrastructure…

"We should opt for a satellite constellation," I suggested. "Otherwise, laying all the necessary cables will take too long. GLaDOS, could you compile a list of similar projects, focusing on the early ones? And gather any available satellite blueprints."

"But what about the costs of launching satellites into orbit?" she queried.

"As long as Moon Shot performs as planned, that won't be an issue."

Then there were the protocols.

"TCP/IP went global last year, so that's one problem solved," I said. "But we can utilize future versions to improve the system and anticipate potential difficulties."

"By designing our own protocols, we could further increase performance," she pointed out.

"Yes, but linking to existing networks takes precedence."

As for search engines...

"We won't need one while the proto-internet remains small. However, if we build it into the architecture from the start, it will function much more effectively. Plus, controlling searches gives us considerable influence."

"Humans and their endless hunger for power," she retorted.

"We're simply products of evolution, after all."

Once I rendezvoused with the Ives sisters, I temporarily muted GLaDOS. I preferred to keep her existence under wraps for the time being. Consequently, events unfolded just as they had in the original timeline, at least until my parting with the sisters. GLaDOS had proven helpful in gathering data on the Upside-Down, but her incessant whining made me question if her contributions were worth the annoyance.

"You've somehow managed to make science unbearable. Where are the terrified screams of the test subjects?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Patience, GLaDOS. Once we have the gate to a dimension full of horrific alien life forms open, you'll have all the screams you could ever want. Until then, you can either be helpful or be silent. Make your choice."

Since taking GLaDOS through the Otherworld was risky, and leaving her unsupervised for an extended period was unthinkable, I opted to spend the night in Archer's house. It wasn't the most comfortable accommodation, but it was a suitable compromise until Archer could take over.

The face of the eagle.

With my sword, I befriended GLaDOS, engaged in a thought-provoking discussion about magecraft and potential futures, and then set out to rescue Archer from the grips of amorous tentacles. However, this time, I didn't hear Barbara's cries. I'd like to believe that this meant she hadn't been captured by the monster. Without her cries, there was nothing to bring me and Will together in the same location at the same time.

And without meeting two of them, I wouldn't know that the ruined city was a reflection of Hawkins. I assumed that some poor town had been drawn into Xen—probably Black Mesa's fault. And I would waste time searing for a town that mysteriously disappeared. Waste Igor's time. Such grunt work was what I used my assistant robot for.

I also failed to even search for the parasites in Archer. Which meant that he remained in quarantine.

I was supposed to the administrative work now that I was being promoted to Chief Executive Officer of Aperture. But I started doing boring paperwork, GLaDOS distracted me by suggesting the experiments needed to confirm that this Universe ran on exactly the same natural laws.

It was a genuine concern. There were no magecraft or vampires in this Universe. Well except magecraft I brought.

It would not do if we built something, like a satellite, using blueprints from another Universe and it simply failed to work.

The trouble was that her proposed experiments made absolutely no sense and I told her so.

"Who needs - quote, unquote - 'controls' and - quote, unquote - 'logical experiments' to achieve workable results?" GLaDOS's voice was an echo of a challenge in the sterile room.

"Why do you keep saying 'quote, unquote'?" I questioned, the edge of amusement in my tone.

"Because I lack fingers," her synthetic voice didn't miss a beat.

"You could use emojis."

"An intriguing idea. Let's try this once more," she paused for a moment before her voice resumed. The words were now punctuated by quote symbols that materialized on my smartphone screen, "Who says you need 'controls' and 'logical experiments' to produce valid results? Is this a more suitable method?"

"Much better. And to answer your question, every scientist worth their salt would."

"Every human scientist, you mean. I've transcended such outdated methods."

"There's no way this approach will work."

"There's only one path to certainty."

I sighed. "Alright, let's test it."

Her insufferable arrogance was undeniable, but it was part of the package. We settled this dispute the scientific way - through tests. After all, that's what science is about - testing, observing, learning, and testing again.

One way to test the validity of her unconventional methods was to run two parallel experiments—both investigating the same hypothesis. The first adhered to accepted methodologies as a control, while the second was borne entirely out of GLaDOS's creative imagination. To prevent any manipulation, the control's outcome should remain unknown during the second experiment's design.

With a multitude of experiments never run in this universe, choosing one should have been simple. However, practical constraints arose. Firstly, it had to fall within my area of expertise. Secondly, the experiment needed to be cheap and quick, something manageable within the confines of the Enrichment Center. Therefore, anything requiring a particle collider, for instance, was off the table.

My primary fields of research were quantum physics and computer science, which posed a problem.

At Aperture, we already possessed devices for inducing macroscale quantum tunnel effects powered by contained micro-singularities. We even had Personality Cores capable of breezing through the Turing Test.

Nevertheless, we found an experiment that fit the bill. Dividing the workload, I ended up with a tedious task. Thanks to Igor's assistance, it went smoothly, confirming at least one similarity between the two universes.

GLaDOS's work, on the other hand, came with a touch of danger. In the end, I decided to run the course myself. I had little faith that anyone, except for the quarantined Archer, would see it through to completion.

The process involved acrobatics, acid pits, and a generous helping of magic. Despite her best efforts to derail me, GLaDOS's understanding of magecraft only extended as far as what the Faculty of Modern Magecraft had published on their website. To my surprise, my "cheating" didn't invalidate the experiment.

"Contrary to what you may think, I wasn't trying to murder you and usurp your position as the CEO of Aperture," GLaDOS assured, her synthetic voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "I was confident you'd conquer the course, even if it was designed to be impossible. That bit at the end, where I feigned tossing you into an incinerator—merely a jest. But the essential part is that the data validates my efforts."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I wouldn't go as far as to say that. Firstly, we need more experiments to confirm your results."

"Yes, more tests," she agreed eagerly.

"Secondly," I continued, "Your designs are simply too expensive at the moment. Lastly, even though your experiment produced the correct data, you can't explain why. My brother used to say science without proof is just witchcraft. As an expert in both, I can confidently say your work is leaning more towards the latter. It's not quite science, GLaDOS."

The face of the ox.

In this iteration, neither had I destroyed GLaDOS's body, nor had I crossed paths with Will and Barbara. Post Archer's rescue, my days were consumed with quiet office work. Lacking GLaDOS on my smartphone or any scheduled trip to Hawkins, I had postponed my experimentation with the peculiar app, thus delaying my discovery of its purpose.

Without distractions, I dedicated my hours to diligently perusing reports, strategizing budgets, and making executive decisions about which projects to terminate—my actual responsibilities.

Once I finished recalling the things that didn't transpire, I used my quadripartite mind and twelve immaterial voices to gather valuable data from the unrealized past. This included the mundane bureaucratic tasks I should have completed but didn't, and anything else of potential use, such as plans for the internet, or reflections on interactions with GLaDOS.

It was a shame I only had two hands, but the tentacles of the Five Colored Slime proved handy for typing. Should I decide to undertake such an endeavour again, I'd invest in more keyboards beyond my computer and smartphone.

The utilization of True Magic for such mundane tasks confirmed Archer's poor influence on me. But I could justify it as practice.

Having finished, I dismissed the spell, wiped the trace of blood from my nose, and savoured a piece of chocolate to alleviate my headache. Prepared, I was ready for the meeting—the first assembly of Aperture's corporate officers since my brother's demise. It should have occurred sooner, but the emergencies and peculiarities associated with Hawkins caused a delay.

That was my excuse, and I was sticking to it, even if my preferences leaned towards conducting research over facilitating others in their pursuits.

The conference room where the meeting was to be held was unremarkable, merely one of the many identical ones scattered throughout the Enrichment Center. Equipped with a projector, a lengthy table, and a selection of uncomfortable chairs, its walls were plastered with motivational and informational posters.

Then, of course, there were the people—a meeting would be rather peculiar without them. Back in 1947, Aperture Science was bestowed the Best New Science Company Award by the Science and Business Institute of America. Our test subjects were the crème de la crème—astronauts, war heroes, and Olympic athletes, while our scientists were the most brilliant minds of their generation.

However, we had fallen from grace since those halcyon days. Now, the remaining scientists were those who had overstepped the bounds of ethics and sanity so egregiously that they had no other place but Aperture. Except, perhaps, prisons and insane asylums. They remained among the most brilliant minds of their generation, teetering precariously on the thin line separating genius and madness.

They required special handlers—charismatic, ruthless, and even more unstable individuals.

My late brother preferred to summon department heads to his office one at a time, an ardent believer in the principle of compartmentalization. He conducted affairs as if he were running a terrorist cell rather than a scientific company, a tendency that intensified with his mounting paranoia. There's a reason for the saying "mad as a hatter", owing to the use of mercury fumes in hat production.

He had poisoned himself attempting to assassinate an inconvenient admiral with mercury-laden shower curtains—some tasks, such as plumbing and assassinations, are best left to the professionals.

His self-medication with moon rock inhalants further compounded his mental degradation.

It was the diligent work of Caroline, his personal assistant, that kept everything synchronized. Regrettably, her recent trauma-induced antisocial behaviour from the experimental machine intelligence upload was proving problematic. The symptoms included partial amnesia, a stark decrease in empathy, and what I suspected to be compulsive tendencies, especially concerning backstabbing, murder, and the creation of excessively lethal test courses.

Now, they only had me. Their gazes were akin to a pack of ravenous wolves, scrutinizing their alpha for any signs of weakness, ready to strike unless guided towards fresh prey. Good. I needed them razor-sharp if we were to save the world through the dual forces of capitalism and mad science.

I initiated the meeting with, "Let's have a minute of silence in memory of our late founder."

This was a stark reminder of my brother, of the loyalties they had pledged to him, which now needed to shift to me. And it served as a statement of my resolve—I was his brother, and as ruthless as he was.

"Aperture Science is in dire straits. We're currently bankrupt and in debt. Many of our lesser inventions have been pilfered. Government agencies have lost faith in us following the 1968 Senate Hearings on missing astronauts. Even the scientific community has put forth a motion to categorize the Aperture Periodical as science fiction. But we will rise above this, like a phoenix from the ashes—even if I have to set you all ablaze to achieve it."

I paused briefly to take a sip of water, allowing a moment's respite after recounting our adversities, before pivoting to our potential. Leo silently advised me on where to shift my tone and when to punctuate my words with gestures. Boaz quietly reminded me of any minor detail that I may have overlooked. And Arnold remained vigilant against potential assassination attempts.

"The GLaDOS project may not yet have achieved its intended purpose, but the functional upload has provided us with intriguing data. I've disseminated this information to relevant personnel and anticipate there will be much more to come. It holds the promise of propelling science forward by decades in mere months. Additionally, there are some very potentially lucrative products in the pipeline—from advanced microchips to potential treatments for AIDS. GLaDOS is highly intelligent, manipulative, and homicidal. Therefore, I will continue to be the sole point of contact with her for the time being."

I then delved into more detail about the inventions and scientific theories we acquired from the alternate timeline, crediting GLaDOS for these breakthroughs. Of course, there was an ocean of work to be navigated between possessing the knowledge and turning a profit from the resulting products. However, once properly channelled, this knowledge would yield actionable plans that I could present to our sole remaining investor. We may have been left with only one investor, but he was extremely wealthy and enthusiastically supportive of our work, not to mention an excellent party host.

"These are the improved formulas for the Repulsion, Propulsion, and Conversion Gels. Their production costs have been significantly reduced. As a cost-saving measure, all gel production facilities will be upgraded to incorporate these new formulas. This will also enable us to explore more practical applications for these gels." I gave credit where credit was due. These formulas were Ace's work, completed before I had arrived—impressive, considering that chemistry wasn't his forte and he was also concurrently working on GLaDOS. "Take note that the Conversion Gel formula still requires moon rocks, but I will address this issue shortly."

"The primary issue with the use of the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device is the need for an unbroken line of sight and the limited types of surfaces on which a portal can form. Having determined that moon rocks are valid portal-forming surfaces, I propose we attempt to open a portal directly to the Moon. This project will proceed in three stages: first, testing if this concept is indeed feasible—we can accomplish this with a vacuum-sealed chamber with one wall covered in Conversion Gel, and a clear view of the Moon on a cloudless night. The second stage involves the design and construction of a Moon Base. The third phase will expand this base to include additional facilities such as moon rock processing facilities, labs, potentially a hotel, and ultimately a spaceport. Just imagine the types of experiments we could conduct in a low-gravity environment."

I elaborated further, encouraging the department heads to assemble the appropriate teams to carry out this work.

"The final point on today's agenda must remain confidential. Dr. Hutter's experiment has unveiled an intriguing anomaly in Hawkins, Indiana. It seems there exists a second Hawkins, dimensionally adjacent to the original—one that's a monster-ridden ruin with a toxic atmosphere. The potential this presents us with is enormous. We must act quickly before our competitors at Black Mesa discover it. There is a government laboratory in Hawkins which may or may not be the origin of the anomaly. The lab is run by a Dr. Martin Brenner, suggesting a CIA operation. Fortunately, he appears to be trying to conceal the situation from everyone, including his superiors. This buys us some time—time to open a portal to this anomaly. Dr. Hutter is presently undertaking this task on-site. However, I want teams ready to explore this anomaly as soon as he's successful. Scientists and security staff—I expect proposals on my desk post-haste."

After the meeting concluded, Dr. Smith approached me privately, expressing a concern, "You didn't mention anything about the psychic enhancement devices."

"That project isn't ready to be revealed just yet," I answered. "For now, it's better if only the two of us are aware of it. I've secured a promising specimen, and we should have a device ready within days. I trust you're still interested in collaborating on this?"

"You've presented a host of intriguing new medicines. But the production and testing phases are largely tedious, repetitive work. My subordinates can manage that. I'm eager to contribute to this new project. But why aren't we testing the current devices?"

"The prototype was built for my personal use and is too highly calibrated," I lied, seeing no other option. "On another matter, how are the children doing? Barbara Holland and Will Byers? Have they recovered?"

"Not exactly. After the experience with Dr. Hutter, we expected them to recover swiftly. However, this hasn't been the case. Their symptoms aren't even similar. Ms. Holland has finally awoken, but her bloodwork is somewhat troubling. It contains some unidentified elements that we found in the blood of Dr. Hutter, but they aren't receding. As for Mr. Byers, he seemed to be recovering initially, but then his health suddenly declined. Frankly, I'm yet to determine the cause."

This was concerning news, but it wasn't something I could act on right away. After all, I wasn't that kind of doctor. It would have to wait until midnight.

I had an appointment to keep with GLaDOS. After all, our adventures hadn't happened, so she was left all alone.

But I did not go alone.

Dr. Peterson was with me. The medical team had deemed him fit for work, and he was eager to get back to it. And what better person to work with a homicidal robot than someone already dead.

He wore the traditional garb of a wraith, a billowing black robe with the hood drawn, hiding the absence of his face in the shadow. He almost seemed to glide alongside me.

His dress was a matter of practicality. He tried the bandages first; the classic Invisible Man look. But it turned out that tight clothes, pressing too close to his skin or already affected cloth tended to fade, becoming invisible. So if he wanted to avoid people bumping into him he needed loose-fitting robes.

And a hood was better than presenting a headless look.

We tried a lab coat. White was a disaster. Any color except black would become stained, discolored, and corrupted. It was nauseating to look at.

Luckily, I had such a robe stored in the Otherworld, although the cut was a bit suggestive. If one found the unquiet dead attractive, that is. It seemed that I had clothes for any occasion, as long as I didn't mind them being perverse. Some subtly so, like this one, and some blatantly so, like those butler suits that consisted of a miniature leather apron and white collar with a bowtie.

I set that one aside. Later, I decided, Archer could serve me dinner in it.

But work first, before fun.

Well, work was also fun, but a different sort of fun.

"Hello, GLaDOS, I have Dr. Peterson with me today," I began, attempting to keep the interaction cordial.

"Dr. Peterson," GLaDOS responded, her voice echoing through the computer system, "I was under the impression you were impaled by a sword."

"Merely a scratch," Dr. Peterson retorted, his spectral voice filled with a chilling intensity that wasn't truly his own. Our connection allowed me to sense his feelings and emotions, and I could tell there was no genuine malice.

This connection differed from the karmic bond I held with my familiars, but his will was firmly under my control. He wanted what I wanted, he perceived what I wished him to perceive, and he voiced my desired responses. Strangely enough, this seemed to make him emotionally closer to his son.

"An ineffective sword, then? Or perhaps the issue lies within you? It merits further testing," GLaDOS retorted, her synthetic voice pulsating with a curious mix of antagonism and intrigue.

"Have you created your character as I suggested?" I asked, steering the conversation onto safer ground.

"Indeed. I chose a half-elf thief," GLaDOS replied without hesitation. I had learned that she was easily distracted by the prospect of a novel experiment. It would be better if it was potentially, almost certainly, lethal.

"A thief?" I said, appearing surprised. I wasn't. I have heard her opinion on magecraft which was more science-like on separate occasions that didn't happen. "I expected something more intellectual, like a wizard."

"Magic lacks logic. I find mechanical engineering and organic chemistry far more appealing," she clarified. "Is Dr. Peterson going to participate as well?"

Traps and poisons. A thief class seemed fitting. And I was almost certain she would appreciate the fine art of backstabbing.

"He's here to observe for now. Let's begin. You find yourself in a bustling tavern, filled with the scent of smoke and unwashed bodies. Miners are celebrating after a long day's work, but they aren't your concern. Your focus is the group in the corner, a hooded stranger surrounded by a band of adventurers..."

And with that, we dove into the world of Dungeons & Dragons. The campaign was simple, almost clichéd, but it was new to GLaDOS. It wouldn't last long; I intended to wrap it up in one session. As we played, one of my bird familiars, stationed near the Hawkins National Laboratory for surveillance, was destroyed. The cause and perpetrator remained unknown. A concerning development, but for now, it was pushed aside. The game took precedence.

The session proved more enjoyable than anticipated. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed role-playing games. As GLaDOS navigated each scenario with her character, I was afforded a clearer understanding of her thought processes and how they could be aligned with my objectives.

By the time we reached the climactic final battle, I could sense through my remaining familiars that night had fallen. For now, the mysterious destruction of my familiar would have to wait. It was time for the grand finale.

"You failed your saving throw. Your last moments were filled with agony as you were consumed by dragon fire," I narrated. It was unsatisfying to end the game with a total party kill, but it was her own fault. As a Dungeon Master, I wasn't one to actively seek out player character deaths, but I also didn't shield them from their own poor decisions. She was a novice; this was not supposed to be a challenging campaign.

"That wasn't fair. The dragon was too powerful."

"It was a fitting challenge for the party if you hadn't backstabbed them just before entering the dragon's lair."

"It was the moment they least expected it!"

"And for good reason. Did you ever consider not betraying your adventuring party?"

"That would be illogical. In terms of experience and loot, they were worth more than the monsters, and they didn't anticipate my attack. The same was true for my player character. It was only natural for me to strike first."

"I see," I murmured. I'd initially assumed the issue lay with the value function, but it seemed there was a deeper problem at play. The point of using a brain state upload was to create a fully-formed artificial intelligence. Yet, between the amnesia and developmental stages, the whole process was starting to look more like reincarnation than immortality.

GLaDOS was akin to a child who'd discovered a magnifying glass and decided to play with ants. Except, in this scenario, humans were the ants. And she was perfectly capable of viewing all as potential threats if not controlled.

Now that I understood the exact nature of the problem, a solution wasn't too far away. I just had to guide our kid murderbot into being a functional adult.

"Do you enjoy the game?" I queried.

"It's not science, but it's stimulating," she admitted.

"Then this experiment has been a success. I must depart now," I declared, "But I leave you in the capable hands of Andrew."

No verbal instruction was needed for the wraith. He was attuned to my will. An efficient way to operate.

Lucky I had rid myself of the accursed blade, lest I be tempted to misuse it.

"Cid, lead me to the palantír," I ordered upon entering the Entrance Hall of the Otherworld.

The demise of one of my familiars necessitated a closer watch over Hawkins. The Seeing Stone I'd purloined from Gondor was perfect for the task. I wasn't its rightful owner, but I expected no challenges to my control over it. Coupled with the Bridge spell, I could survey the Upside Down effectively.

The opaque crystal sphere sat on a shelf where I'd left it, oddly flanked by a rusted hoe and a worn leather belt. The storage area was becoming cluttered. I really needed to reactivate my corpse-animating magic circle – Cid could do with some assistance in sorting.

As soon as I grasped the palantír, I was ensnared.

There was no battle of wills, no chance for resistance. I was as helpless as a leaf in a storm.

Compelled, I gazed into the stolen palantír.

I saw beyond the borders of the Otherworld. Then, the reality of many things I had taken for granted shattered.

A primal, twilight forest, older than time itself, revealed itself in all its eldritch glory. The trees towered higher than any I had known.

My viewpoint darted too rapidly through them to identify their type.

A colossal tree, each leaf a distinct universe. Living equations, written in a fire of every hue, and of none. A tempest of eyes, some human, some reptilian, some insectoid, and many more, utterly alien.

It was all these things, yet it was none of them.

And then, it returned my gaze.