Author's Notes:

Yeah, yeah. "Oh I wonder how long Apex is gonna be gone THIS time!" Trust me, it isn't something I'm happy about, but the thing about life is you get busier, and then other interests occupy your time.

But I never stopped loving to write.

I never felt happy about this enormously popular story of mine hanging in the back of my brain, otherwise forgotten about. It's a sheer joy to write - especially with how much better I've gotten over the years. That, along with the recent end of season 7 and the movie having given me major pony fever, made me really feel like writing some MLP again.

And good news: I may finally have a method that will (hopefully) ensure I don't abandon this, or any story, again. It's something I've adopted recently, but I truly do not wish to suddenly abandon any story for an indeterminate amount of time again - not like this, and not without a word to you guys. So, to assure that doesn't happen, to any of my other stories back on FF.net, I have a system where I write a chapter for my Adventure Time fic, then another for the Star vs. one, and then Steven Universe before cycling back. That way, I don't get burned out on one story for too long, and I don't abandon any others by pouring time into just one. This one is wedging itself between Adventure Time and Star. So, updates might still be on the slow side, but at least you can expect them.

Let's of course hope life doesn't happen, and my own self doesn't fizzle out again.

Anyway, onto something else that requires this note being on the start of the chapter: recaps

Yet another attribute I'm implementing to all my stories, where each chapter will begin with a sort of Thrones-esque recap utilizing lines of dialogue and prose from past chapters that are relevant to this one. I realize that, not only are my updates spaced out, but I expect my readers to remember quite a bit.

Although these tidbits are not critical to enjoying or understanding the story, I figured it would be appreciated by you, the reader, if I were to give a hand in reminding you of important tidbits - especially from chapters I wrote several years ago (fuck me). At the very least, it will enhance your enjoyment of the chapter by going into it reminded of important, relevant information.

As you've seen from the title, this chapter is a more down-to-earth-but-hopefully-still-funny interlude that doesn't involve the Big Ol' Storm arc, but it contains important setup while taking place between chapters.

Anyways, without further ado, let us continue this train of madness and science.

Last Time...

“North?” wondered Dewmist. “What the heck is north? Just constant snow and cold.”

“Who cares though? Those crazy ponies are going to be gone for Celestia knows how long! You know what this calls for?" Bonbon mimicked in a voice startlingly similar to Pinkie Pie's: "A PARTY!”

Glados hoped this townwide celebration of being momentarily freed of Twilight and her friends did not interfere with her day.

“It’s fine, Glados,” Dewmist said, her voice a purr when soft. “We get it, this is all new to you. You’re adjusting.”

"Stupid! FUCKING! WHEATLEY!"

These equines are weird, but... but at least they’re not as depraved as human beings. A plus, not that it matters. The bad outweigh the good like Chell to a hippopotamus, with the hippopotamus being the good. I was just implying that Chell is horridly obese. This is my method of staying sane.

In what she would consider a Christmas Miracle, Glados actually found herself enjoying this organic behavior of laughter... it still left her strangely happy long after it dissipated.

I need help.

Sigh. Organic Problems.

As if she were a drone under the thumb of Aperture once more, Glados actually lifted her hoof to rub the other pony’s affectionately.

She wanted to move her legs and step back. Her brain was telling them to do that, but for some reason, her body wouldn’t comply. Or maybe... she wouldn’t?

This is all so very weird. I’m not used to having to tell my platform to perform a function and not have it listen.

"It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply," - Unknown

The audible vomit Ponyville had become faded gradually into a distant echo.

Glados strolled leisurely up the dirt path to the village's outer sector, singing to herself, "Change-ling, Change-ling, gon-na di-ssect a Change-ling~"

Oddly enough, the chimes and guitar playing in her head sounded very real, as if some invisible maestro were accompanying her on the journey home.

A distinctive, posh cry of "Wait, Glados!" tore her melody asunder, complete with off-key string pluck, and freezing the Science Pony's step. Every instinct within Glados screamed at her to just keep walking, and yet, something overpowered and caused her to not proceed, as if heeding the organic's command.

Glados's half-lidded gaze rose, ever so slightly, as Octavia Melody ran by, turned, and stood right in her damned way. The cellist's mouth, already parted a ways to daintily replenish her crippling disability - breathing - opened further to speak, but she gulped haltingly the moment their eyes met.

"Is everything alright, dear?" she promptly asked.

"Not anymore," Glados replied.

Octavia huffed with a roll of the eyes, muttering, "Yes, yes, your life is over and you're forced to live with these terribly cheerful little ponies!" she dramatically cried, hoof to her brow. "Woe is the genius of Glados!"

"Wah-how, that's so insensitive!" cried the Science Pony, genuinely amused.

"And you've earned sensitivity?" Octavia shot back with a knowing smirk.

Glados's smile, unknowingly, hadn't lessened. "Wow, brutal and correct. And here I characterized you as the kindly one."

"Darling, I'm 'the mah-choore' one," Octavia said with unironic pomposity, hoof to her heart. "And with maturity, I can know ponies - and with you, I know what you respond to, like, and, perhaps, the reason as to why you're ditching your friends!"

Upon reflection, Octavia's humorous reply was suddenly not very funny.

Is she implying that I'm not attending this frivolous cake-eating, bad-music, bad-dancing, pony PARTY is because I'm still upset about having to live here? "Oh, don't assume nonsense like that. It makes you look like an idiot - especially if you're wrong." Even though she's right about that, it isn't why I'm not staying.

"Oh," she parroted, smirking knowingly from the corner of Glados's eye, "then am I mistaken?

She actually snorted. "Where's your evidence? Your proof that I'm upset? Because look at my face, look at how utterly blank it is - I'm fine."

Octavia grew just the most killable smirk imaginable. "By Celestia, you are!" she crooned, skipping up beside Glados. "You really are leaving because you're upset! You look just about ready to bite my head off."

"My previous inquiry still stands."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, which you undoubtedly will regardless if I'm right or not," Glados sent her a pointed look - from Octavia's cheeky sneer it was clear she knew exactly what she was doing, which was quite humorous and simultaneously annoying; "but, are you just leaving the party without a word to your friends because you simply, cannot, stand a single afternoon of fun and excitement, away from your 'science projects?'"

Glados stiffened, and answered promptly, "Don't say those words." She explained, "'Fun' and 'excitement' are my triggers ever since I spent an entire week with the pink one. I was forced to jury-rig a portable IV of Dr. Hooves' Cure-All so that I wouldn't pass out from constantly breaking my legs. She somehow had another bottle in her hair, as if anticipating this would happen."

Octavia, though visibly surprised to hear of this, waved a hoof, saying, "Oh, don't read into Pinkie Pie's actions, Glados. It's just the sweet little dear being herself."

"That's what they keep telling me - 'It's just Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie,' - but I refuse to accept that as a scientific answer." Glados gently stamped a hoof with "refuse."

The cellist huffed in amusement, dryly remarking, "I heard that Twilight almost went insane trying to understand her Pinkie Sense," in a light tone that clearly told Glados to not even bother.

"Under normal circumstances, I would take that as a challenge. But my life is now one big abnormal circumstance, and truly, I don't care enough about the pink one to study her. Her voice alone is an effective deterrent - but just everything she says and does within the span of a single conversation expands the cancerous, fluffy pink tumor in my brilliant brain like an all-consuming Humanoid."

Octavia blinked, absorbing all that. "So... Pinkie Pie annoys you?"

"Isn't that what I said?"

She just tilt her head in laughter. Glados felt her upper-innards tingle hearing this oddly captivating cellist sigh, "Oh, Glados..." with a shake of the head. "Come along, now," she gestured with a hoof, smiling, "our friends are probably wondering where we are."

That word again, it made Glados growl. It took five seconds for her to blink, never glancing at Octavia's now-waggling hoof.

Her friendly smile receded into a sad one. "Glados..."

"I'm. Not. Going. What is with you equines and forcing me to do things I don't want to?"

Octavia looked wounded. "I'm not forcing you, dear! I just don't understand why you're so adamant in being alone."

"And you will continue to wonder about this until the day you die. Which will be very soon if you continue to impede me! Which I will regret, because you aren't the most deserving of such a fate from the subjects I've met so far. But you're smart, and because of that you will heed my words. So, goodbye cello-pony." She brushed passed a sighing Octavia, and Glados kept walking. "Thanks for the release of dopamine into my brain, I really enjoyed it."

She kept walking and didn't turn back.

Not until the words, "I know you don't like it here..." reached her ears, where they swiveled and stiffened on the spot.

Glados's brows pushed together (unknowingly, of course), not turning but focused on hearing Octavia's low voice underneath the distant warble of Ponyville's nth monotonous celebration.

"...And I know you... believe you have better things to do than 'wasting' time partaking in something so utterly frivolous..." Glados turned fully now, watching Octavia do the same until they faced one another, as she thought to herself, Huh. Wow. Is that the first time somebody actually acknowledged and understood me? Unlike them, you aren't just trying to force friendship down my throat like a chicken in a slaughterhouse.

"You must have freakish magic mind-reading powers," Glados remarked - quietly ignoring she was at the point of saying such things without a hint of sarcasm.

Octavia took it as such though, and tittered softly into her outstretched hoof. "Not quite, Glados! Not quite! I simply..." her hoof rolled around until she answered, "relate! Because I was just like you when I first arrived at Ponyville."

"Oh, spare me." She immediately spun around continued down the path, but not alone, for Octavia predictably caught up and fell into step beside her.

She just sung lightly in her pleasant posh lilt, "It's true!"

The fact that she felt anything towards something as absurd as a voice enraged Glados, made her whirl in place, snout pushing against Octavia's, who skidded a little ways beneath the leaning ex-synth. "No you don't, you've no idea," she shot back, matter-of-factly. "Life is just one big foot massage for you ponies: never hard, never cruel - it's part of the reason why I hate having 'fun' with you people." Even as she said this, Glados knew it wasn't true - she still considered the ponies' idea of "fun" to be mindless, but she didn't need to look further than the dreams of that pitiful soul, Ditzy Doo, to know the struggles they had the potential to face.

"Um, 'f-foot?'"

Glados's eye twitched, then thrust her little white hoof between their faces. "This... absurd little deformity!" Glados dropped her head with a groan. "I don't wish to attend this party, because, it, annoys me!" Her eyes flared in punctuation, burning into Octavia's once again. "Everything, about it, annoys me: the colors, the sound, the purpose - how it's always just good feelings and good times for you goodie-goodie ponies. You don't know what it's like, to suffer upon the whims of those outside your control, subject yourself to change you didn't want or ask for; when you've done nothing but what you were born to do, and now you're stuck feeling... lost! Adrift; never feeling right, never belonging anywhere!"

The Science Pony gasped for breath, unaware of the utterly shattered expression painted upon her face until she read the sadness in Octavia's eyes - her pity - and couldn't look away.

Glados hated it, and she didn't know why. For just acknowledging her reality? Or the fact that someone in this miserable realm even remotelycared, despite lacking a good reason to offer a fallen angel like her any modicum of sympathy?

Glados hated it, and she didn't want to know why. She wasn't sure what came first: the wrenching away of her gaze with a huff, or the fist-through-the-cranium CRACK! in her thoughts as they filled with the unintelligible warble of that woman's voice.

It never stopped - too many thoughts in her head to think about, too many annoying feelings her brain was tricking her into caring about, all to the song of that horrible psychological affliction she really should get checked out until the cellist broke through it all in a cool, wavering voice:

"You have little notion, Glados, of how similar our souls are..."

"Urgh!" growled Glados, tearing herself away, for no reason other than an iron-forged sense of pride, a loathing of empathy, and the feeling of overwhelming disgust for it all - more so than the idea that it truly was a mess of flesh and pseudo-robotic parts inside her.

"And here I am," she lamented, "doing it again - for the third time in the last thirty seconds: failing to the power of these organic emotions, embarrassing myself..."

"Now hang on, don't you feel that way!" Octavia tutted, walking up and pressing herself beside her f-frie-hen... companion...

...t-tool...

The gesture, the sheer pity of it all, only made Glados's head lower further to the dirt, ears sagging. "You should never be ashamed of how you feel. Why, emotions are an incredible part of life, dear! They're what colors our experience and gives it beauty!"

Glados lifted her gaze, glaring bitterly from the corner of her eye, and feeling the utter warmth and comfort emanating from Octavia's flesh. "I have no need for beauty. I require suppression."

Octavia gaped, as if that was the worst thing Glados had ever said (to her).

"Why would you want to suppress a part of who you are?" she cried.

Stepping away, Glados stated, "Because it's weakness!" as she did so, emphasizing her syllables to mimic her former speech patterns, and not at all for the very reason she said such a thing, obviously. "Not to beat a potentially-offensive metaphor further into the dirt," she waited, anticipating a laugh, and felt briefly negative inside catching a blank stare from Octavia, "...But I'm a genius, and I am, was, flawless."

"By Celestia, I truly do see myself in you." Octavia just wore a most knowing, punchable smirk imaginable.

Glados rolled her eyes. "Doubtful - as I've mentioned at a rate that's made me more parrot than horsey: I had zero quantifiable flaws within my inner-programming until I entered this world, turned into a glass horse, and became a slave to my emotions like everybody else."

"'Pony,'" Octavia lightly cut in.

Glados quirked a brow, her hair slapping beside her face as it twitched to an angle. "What?" she blurted out, knowing damn, DAMN WELL what her companion was referring to.

"It's every-pony, Glados. If you're to live your new life here, you may as well get used to the dialect!" Given the way Octavia spoke, and her previous boasts, she must have known the torment she'd inflicted upon Glados, who legitimately gagged right there at the mere idea of herself saying "everypony" in everyday conversation, 100% unironically.

She started walking in the direction of her home once Octavia sang, "It will happen inevitably," but screeched to a halt upon hearing in a low, teasing lilt, "just like you'll come to embrace your feelings, rather than hiding them."

To that, Glados got right up to Octavia's passive, smirking muzzle once again, eyes boring into her's as she enunciated in a cold, spiteful tone, "I will impale myself upon the horn of that pseudo-scientist, Twilight, before I ever embrace these useless inhibitors wired to my brain."

Finally, Octavia narrowed her eyes, and Glados steeled her grimace, so that a sudden urge to wince wouldn't manifest in reality.

"I will find a way to sever these wires, Octavia. I will." Her conviction was so strong it trembled this vow. "And I will tie them into a nice bow, mail them back to Wheatley, and... laugh!"

"Laugh," said Octavia, expression unchanging.

"Yes, loff," Glados mocked, pulling back. "Loff until I die, because I was too strong to be rendered suicidal by the horrible Dramedy that is 'My Life.' On that note - remind me to question Twilight Sparkle about the Changelings' defeat in Canterlot. I experienced something utterly profound when my guards recounted it this morning, and I'm definitely not going to remember myself. My memory's been about as consistent as a human being these days..."

Speaking of which...

Suddenly, she yanked herself back, allowing Octavia to straighten up, wide-eyed, as Glados cried out, "Where are my damn, moron guards!?"

Glados's eyes whizzed to, then fro, before returning to half-mast. "I mean, not that I care, but if they were who Celestia sent to 'keep an eye' on me? Good to see that Pun-yville is safe from my monstrous machinations within the hooves of my incapable guards."

"Yes, yes, Dewmist and Ironsides are fun, but as far as guard-material is concerned, they leave a bit to be desired." Octavia strolled towards Glados, past her, and before she knew it, lead her along the pathway home, all the while saying, "But after listening to all you had to say, I have to admit, Glados, I'm afraid that I'll aggravate you further and disagree with everything else."

Glados huffed in amusement. That's nonsense. What would you presume to know about me, pony? But she couldn't help but feel naturally intrigued, especially given Octavia's past insights.

Plus, altogether lacking the ability to run home without hurting herself, Glados simply had to relent and ask the obvious: "And what gives you the qualifications to make such an assertion?"

"Empathy, darling," Octavia answered lightly. "Because I know from experience that a narrow-minded worldview always feels like it's right, simply because it's all you've ever known! In this respect, there are two kinds of ponies in the world: those who shut themselves inside their bubble, and those who embrace new experiences. I was once the former, and this standing persisted for a spell after visiting here - to Ponyville - to stay with my beloved cousin, Vinyl, while my house needed fumigating... I was just like you! Thinking myself above these common-ponies, believing personal passions were the only things in this village worth my time. Everything about the place, my situation, it abhorred me! But nothing was worse than realizing I was starting to like this town's charm: the ponies, the atmosphere, the attitude, all of it! I didn't wish to acknowledge that living here was better than back home in Canterlot, so much so that the more I denied it, the more I closed myself off, and the more I closed myself off... the more I hurt myself."

"How?" Glados asked immediately. "You were building defenses, protecting yourself from being infected with a psychological sickness you knew you didn't want. That isn't unhealthy, it's natural. Logical."

"You're right - it is logical." From the corner of her eye, Octavia just smiled. "But it isn't healthy, Glados. And that is what you must understand if you wish to understand mine and everypony else's point. Do you think we have so many parties and get-togethers because of a lack of intelligence, drive or work ethic?"

"Absolutely, haven't considered it, and definitely."

A snort. "You're wrong, but it certainly seems that way. In truth, Glados, you will never find a town as creatively driven and emotionally aware as this one... bumps aside," Octavia quickly added. "The ponies of Ponyville celebrate, because they love each other. They do these things and act this way, because, in spite of their differences, they're all one big community. This is how they relax, this is how they engage the world, life, the whole package! And... And it's so foalish, and absurd, I know, I'm aware, but it's just all so very... nice. It's different from the rest of Equestria... and, I think, your home too."

Finally, Octavia shut her mouth to give Glados the chance to reply, quip, or ask another question.

Nothing came, not even a glance, a twitch of the mouth; nothing but a set jaw and a bobbing throat.

That last part occurred once Octavia admitted, "I understand that you are brilliant, Glados: I've heard of what you did for poor Sweetie Belle. I was there for when you were at our place, questioning Vinyl about unicorn magic. And you mentioned your studies on the Dream Realm - I, I didn't even know the place was accessible by anypony but Princess Luna, yet you've... scienced your way into the impossible, and babbled on to all of us about it over lunch just an hour ago!"

She inflicted a silence upon their walk, leaving Glados to remember her behavior at the restaurant. She felt hot all of a sudden, picturing her self foolishly yammering on about her findings to these ponies who definitely failed to comprehend. Yet, they sure seemed like they did, and Glados couldn't help herself but share something scientific with those who appeared interested, having never done so before.

Octavia suddenly continued, having possibly relived the same memory, if her smile were of any indication. "I've no idea of how you do it or what you're even capable of, but my point is, I understand what it means to be a pony who is a caliber above the rest pertaining to a certain aspect of life."

"However, intellect is not all there is to life." Glados spotted Octavia's ears twitch upon catching her amused grunt - that pony was so damn conceited in the way she just ignored her objection to the idea. "Although you don't like her, Twilight Sparkle is the pony who can tell you that a life of pure science and study is not a life of love and happiness. I know you're an introvert Glados, and I know you consider yourself above me and everypony else in town purely based upon the qualities which make you amazing! ...But you're a troubled soul, too, and there is so much pain in your heart, no matter how much you deny it - to us, and yourself."

Glados swallowed, her brain filled with so many of Octavia's words, that they'd overridden the instinct to conjure up a quip dismissing everything that this random pony, who'd latched herself unto her unfortunate existence, just asserted.

"Glados, what I'm about to say next, I say it with love, and the anticipation that you can become an exceptional pony: you are never going to achieve happiness if you continue to adhere to your ways." The conviction to which Octavia said it would be enough to make any mouth-breather believe her - but Glados knew she was honest, and this was just a byproduct of her evident passion and obvious wisdom. "I understand how life looked to you back in Apper-whathaveyou, how it was for you, what you were like, what you liked to do... the acts you committed, and your reasoning behind them... but this is no longer that place, and that is no longer who you are, both mind and body..."

"I guess... my point, with all of this ranting and raving, is... why not give your soul a chance to catch up?"

You are never going to achieve happiness if you continue to adhere to your ways... Glados stared straight ahead, not even realizing that they'd arrived at her front door, that Octavia had posed a question - That was a question, right? - and swallowing a stupid throat-mass incapable of going down. This is ridiculous, her chest swelled in protest, I'm happy - I have my science experiments. Science gives me pleasure because it's easy and familiar and... and I still plan on dissecting this world, piece by piece until it's reshapen into something useful yet I can't help but admit that Octavia's logic is...

"...Alright." For once, her voice almost resembled how it used to, back home, as she turned and lowered herself into a sitting position, tail wrapped around her flank. "Sure," she said while doing so, "your logic is sound. It's certainly more appealing to my organic sensibilities than trapping myself within my own headspace, asserting that good will eventually come, because that's the definition of insanity." She gestured with a hoof, eyeing it. "I mean, it's what I've been doing since I got here, once under the presumption I'd return to Aperture after being so foolish as to have faith in a pair of gods."

She shook her head, the idea so ridiculous, Glados couldn't believe she was desperate enough to trick herself into believing it as fact; no wonder she broke down like she did.

Glados was still lost in her headspace; though far away, down a mental corridor, she heard the cellist's voice chirp, "Well, I'm just glad you're no longer shutting yourself in," as she took a seat right beside her, positioned much the same - forehooves between her hind legs, splayed out before her, tail curled at her side.

She was now fully listening to the world around her as Octavia leaned towards Glados, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "Now I just need to convince a certain pony to come to this party..."

She was answered with an amused huff. "No," Glados said, smiling despite herself - Octavia's persuasion and charisma were deadly weapons, but Glados still had the greatest defense of all to counteract it: standards.

But despite her armor, something bled through the cracks, warming her barrel in a tender embrace. It was that same, pleasurable feeling she's felt time and again - where nothing yet has made her feel as comparatively strange as she felt when talking about science, laughing at the expense of others, or just now, hearing these words from Octavia Melody.

Yet, for all the pleasant, there was so much suffering. Not quite on par with breaking a bone, as nothing was more viscerally awful in her life, but this suffering was more internal, and it disturbed Glados to no end whenever she felt it - so much so that she had to lash out at it, or its source, like a wounded animal. For nothing made her feel as distinctively terrible as when she found the ponies' values and behaviors annoying, or realized she were to live and die here like all the rest of the organics, or talked to Pinkie Pie, or thought of Chell, Wheatley, and Aperture.

"I feel... complicated," was the best word Glados could use to describe herself in that moment. "I'm painfully aware that everything within an organic is just chemicals and instincts, and yet, I'm beginning to understand how it all works - this interwoven lattice of behaviors, bodily functions, relationships, desires, fears, emotions and suffering."

"That is life, my dear," Octavia sang.

"Okay, then... is that the meaning of life?"

"Oh, Celestia," Octavia warned, and Glados knew why.

And before she could stop herself, she was falling head-first into the same rabbit hole several wannabe philosophers had surely tumbled down since the dawn of existence: "Is life just organic functions behaving in a predictable, complex interpersonal relationship, like a machine built for no purpose other than to indulge in frivolity and slowly entropy for little reason besides our own, until we're rendered mushy skeletons in the dirt?"

Octavia hooted - quite literally in fact. "Now that is a question I'm not introspective enough, and you not educated enough, to answer. At least not yet," she added with a wink. Glados hesitated before committing to an agreeable nod. "But I say, you're beginning to grasp the general idear of it."

Glados felt a spark dance about in her belly, and she couldn't help but smile - discovery was life's best reward, especially when concerned with a topic as incomprehensible and chaotic as life itself.

"Thank you, Octavia. I would never have figured it out had you not helped me." Before realizing what she said, Glados rolled her eyes in an exaggerated arc, adding, "At least not today. Maybe this week if I actually cared enough to inquire about it."

"Of course." Octavia giggled into her hoof. "But didn't you anyway, darling?"

"I'm in a very gentle state of mind right now, Octavia - like this is one of those fork-in-the-road stories, where on of the paths leads to mild contentment and the other is a smelly, gaping abyss. I'm not sure which choice leads where, and to top it all off, I'm actually being nice. So do yourself a favor, and don't ruin my mood by breathing life into an obvious truth."

Her companion took it in stride, and put a hoof to her heart with a slight bow. "As you command, my intelligent, sensitive friend."

"I'm not sensitive, I'll always have the soul of a machine - cold and logical, and independent of emotions." Glados thumped a hoof to her breast as she did so, imagining a metallic clunking in her head. "Despite seeing your wisdom, Octavia, you have failed to sway me to accept your dis-gusting worldview. In light of my recent findings on the meaning of life, it merely emphasized why organics will always be an inferior species. These annoying, stupid wasps, which we call 'emotions,' only inhibit your people from achieving true greatness! Or any organic race, for that matter."

"And you are greatness?" To that, Glados's eyes flared, whipping towards the unflinching, smug, cello-playing pony. "Forgive me for being blunt - actually, don't, you need a little bluntness my dear - but, would you even be in Equestria, if you were truly as infallible as you say you are?"

In all her genius, Glados was trapped within a fallible construct slowly decomposing every millisecond. Her processors and query-answering capabilities were, of course, severely limited (an annoying hindrance that made her look the fool more than once here).

None of that really had any bearing upon Octavia's question, nor was time of the essence, for there was a five second pause, and not a glance exchanged between either pony, before a profound statement the greatest minds in human existence have literally given their lives developing and creating, ensuring their creation could sit here, in some inane child's nightmare called Equestria, talking to a philosophical pony who not only plays the cello, but also had the gall, guts, and guff to tear said creation, piece by protective piece, down to the ugly truth that was oh so disgustingly hu-

"Don't change the subject. My arrival here and my intelligence do not correlate with each other in the slightest." Not that I'll ever tell you THAT story, my deceptively clever little test subject. "Emotions are weakness, and that is fact." Glados crossed her forelegs, pouting.

She thought nothing further, daring to dwell upon that train of thought, and instead resigned to allowing Octavia to predictably assume her intentional silence as a lack of answer:

"Well, I think they do correlate." She was gazing straight ahead, back out towards Ponyville, so she would miss the ugly eyeball Glados beamed her way. "I may not know the full story," she continued, "and you may never disclose it with us, but I've learned to trust my gut when it came to ponies. Because our emotions, Glados?" There, Octavia turned - her mane rolling over her shoulder in a shimmering, ebony wave, and her sharp, violet eyes bearing straight into Glados's and gripping them in some sort of a spell. "I know you think they are a weakness, luv, but they're not. Denying what you feel is weakness; acknowledging them, and accepting them as a part of who you are, why, it's a virtue some ponies are too cowardly to possess!"

Glados bristled at the implication of being called a coward, and turned to face her. "And how would you know? About any of this? You rake strings into harmonious sound! You aren't a psychologist." Her words came rapidly, but originated from truthful thoughts.

When Octavia opened her mouth to speak, Glados interrupted, "Why am I even talking to you? You have no qualifications in this discussion! You've walked me to my cottage already, now leave me to my solitude." She had already moved to stand.

Octavia didn't seem to acknowledge how she sounded, but she was definitely thinking it: how inadvertently desperate that tragic genius, Glados, sounded - as if denying it. "I may lack certification, true, and you are correct about something (for once): I create music, and emotions are my payment."

Fuming over that "something," Glados almost missed what Octavia expressed as she, too, stood, and spoke with passion, shut eyes, and a hoof upon her heart: "Because what we feel? That visceral truth, burrowed deep inside and privy only to the self? Why, there's nothing more real in all of Equestria! And as a musician, it is my business to understand and mold that truth into a shape that I want, like clay." Octavia's nose point to the air - a pride Glados could personally identify with had exuded from her voice. And pores.

"God, you're proud of yourself," Glados observed - although her voice betrayed no bias, she respected this pony's confidence from a relative perspective.

"Normally I would advise against getting a swelled head, but alas, a pony must own her talents!" she tittered.

Glados nodded, understanding. "I would advise getting a swelled head, at risk of actually getting one and floating away like a silly balloon. Funny - back home, I would consider the use of such a proverb conceptually ridiculous. But here? This world is ridiculous enough for that to actually be a reality."

"My, my! What have you seen? Actually, to answer that and your worries simultaneously - only Pinkie Pie could make such absurdity a reality! She is quite the character." Octavia tittered politely into her foreleg.

"And I reward your hypothesis with a big fat 'yes,' overall." Octavia's laugh increased in volume, head thrown back. Glados's present smile widened slightly, before a soft chuckle huffed past her lips.

Her companion's sigh was deep, as her sharp, violet eyes gazed out toward Ponyville - the distant music and fun a murmur in the warm breeze, carrying the aroma of hot baked goods upon it.

Glados's scraggly mane stirred lazily in the air, not at all lush and full and taken care of like Octavia's, but she cared little for it anyway. Her mind instead zeroed in on the warm kisses underneath her skin as it brushed against her, blossoming into a warmth which spread unbelievably fast down to her stomach area.

It was not a sick feeling, either, brought about by yet another knee-slapping horsey pun. It was much more enjoyable, and so familiar and similar to past sensations it nurtured a reserved little smile upon her lips.

"I will admit this: weather is a pleasant phenomenon," Glados admitted. She saw Octavia turn toward her within her peripherals, then elaborated, in a quick voice, "Not in the scientific sense, mind you, although it is interesting in its own right - especially here, how different it is. What I mean is, weather is a pleasurable experience from an organic perspective. Purely empirical to be true, but... I mean... Rain is refreshing against this coat of mine - it's like a shower that smells... not exactly good, but different - like the forest and the dirt brought to my front step. It carries a sort of 'familiarity,' as ridiculous as that sounds, that I've come to associate with this domicile of mine... The sun feels hot on my back when I emerge from it after a day of reading, but it isn't a disgusting, sweaty, pain-invoked hot, but less so. Verily. To the point where I'd say i-it's satisfying. Weather is, I mean, I only feel this way because I've never known anything else, obviously, and I... haven't really dwelt upon it. Until just now."

A pregnant pause passed before Glados noisily cleared her throat, only then realizing how heavy her hooves were, as they'd not lifted or even moved an inch across the duration of all that blabbering. Note to self: don't discuss things you know nothing about. You'll look even more foolish than you already do to these creatures.

If her cheeks were as red-hot as they felt, Octavia at least had the decency not to make a teasing jab like at the restaurant, and instead returned to gazing across town - a glance revealed she was just smiling a tiny smile. "I understand," she murmured.

I doubt you do, Glados thought, quite matter-of-factly, even though bitterness still pumped in her veins. Except, then she remembered Octavia's words, the inkling of a history she'd parted for her, like Glados were a damned rat sniffing cheese through a maze.

And damn it all, cheese was apparently the best thing since science, if her burning curiosity were of any indication.

Octavia turned her head towards her, then her body in place, asking before she herself could formulate the least-embarrassing query possible, "Are you sure you don't wish to attend this party, Glados? I know it isn't your cup of tea, but I think it will be very good for you if you expand your horizons a bit! I may not understand, but I can empathize with your finding comfort in the familiar. There's more to life, as I've said! And you've not known fun until you've partied in Ponyville - it's an absolute smash!" Octavia reared up to peddle her hooves in the air.

Glados may have respected this equine, but she had no qualms with staring her right in her beaming face and crush it with a resounding, "No. I'm still not going. I have better things to do."

"O-Oh..." Octavia's head lowered, preceded by her expression. She looked as though she wished to say more, but her politeness overruled and, blessedly, spared Glados from another debate.

Seeing her dejected like this, although it made Glados smile on the inside, bringing someone low, it didn't bring her pleasure. Perhaps it was because she actually liked this pony, but that train of thought was blown up before it left the station, and thus had no bearing upon Glados's genuine desire to end this well, with a leading, "But," which made her friend's face pick up.

Where she found upon the Science Pony's face, a gentle smile adorning her muzzle.

"I thank you for walking with me, Octavia. And, the sustenance. And... walking with me once more, and talking. It was a stimulating experience." " Her voice was warm, which was easy with how not-terrible she felt saying these things - Glados surprised even herself to find she really did appreciate it all.

Octavia Melody grinned, and nodded once with a polite, "Anytime, darling."

Swiftly Glados turned back to her house, before she could voice a desire to repeat this activity again, perhaps over lunch, where she would hear this suspiciously-relatable pony's story.

And likely ask her out to dinner. Perhaps a date. And then they could marry and have stupid little horsey children running around and making Glados regret ever familiarizing herself with these asinine, bug-eyed equestrians.

A shudder rippled through her body upon kicking the door closed.

Next Time: A Big Ol' Storm Part 2 - Glados battles overwhelming forces both inside and out.