Science Chat

Deep under the Pacific Ocean, in the sunken hull of the Nemesis, Shockwave's  single, yellow eye stared back at him, reflected in his computer monitor.

This was the one part of the scientific process he hated. Documentation. He ought to have assistants for this. Servants. Secretaries. Apprentices. Igors to handle the dull, drudging duties of carefully cataloging the results of his experiments, while he got on with the actual experimentation. On Cybertron, he had never had to dirty his hands with paperwork or even more than rudimentary research. It was more logical that such things should be left to the grunts and the pedants, while the advanced processors like his got on with figuring out how to take the universe apart and, time permitting, put it back together again.

Unfortunately, with the decepticon forces on earth being a bit strained since Starscream and the combaticons' most recent banishment, Shockwave had been ordered down to Earth via space-bridge to assist at the front lines, which Earth apparently now constituted. It wasn't that Shockwave was worried about Cybertron in his absence. Well, not truly worried. He was quite sure that his subordinates, Fistfight and Sunstorm, could command the planet well enough in his absence, even if it was possible he might have some trouble getting them to stop commanding when he returned. No, the problem was one of principal. He didn't want Megatron to get used to the idea that he could order Shockwave around as he liked. He and The Fuhrer had always had an understanding up until this point. Shockwave would do whatever Megatron asked, provided Megatron never asked Shockwave to do anything Shockwave didn't want to.

It had, in Shockwave's opinion, been a good system.

Now, stranded on this mud ball of a world, with only a few dozen soldiers (idiots), one ship , only thirty four cubes of energon, and one floundering leader, he was beginning to go through what he felt sure must be some sort of “mad science” withdrawal. As far as Shockwave was concerned, it wasn't real science unless someone involved was dead by the end. Well, there was always the possibility that he might die of boredom.

Closing his log, Shockwave took a moment to browse his message folder on the Nemesis computer's basic information exchange. There were memorandums from Soundwave (the usual propaganda, urging the decepticons to consume less energon that could be better used to power more efficient weapons), further pestering from a decepticon chemist named Deluge, who had been asking Shockwave if he could spare some time to help with some new compound development, and the latest reports from the Constructicons on their retrofitting of the Nemesis back into Trypticon. All useless, non-news.

Well, he hadn't really expected anything better. He never really payed too much attention to the surface chatter of the base in any case. The real items of interest would be in the personal sub-network database he had arranged beyond Soundwave's prying optics. It allowed him to keep in constant contact with his... colleagues on Cybertron, if only in a shallow sense of the word.

Carefully entering a secret password into his terminal, Shockwave began to search his private message boards for recent articles. Amidst a sea of blue icons, which indicated inactivity, the decepticon scientist felt an unfamiliar thrill surge through his processor at the sight of a single, red box.

“So”, Shockwave thought, “she is active today.”

It had been nearly three months since she had found him. At first, he had been confused. Then, alarmed. Then curious. And finally, elated.  She had been a kindred spark. A digital goddess in disguise. He had no idea how she had managed to find his personal communications network, much less breach its walls, and she refused to divulge her secrets. Which was all to the good. Shockwave liked a challenge.

At first, Shockwave had not known what to make of her. She clearly was not a decepticon, and she didn't appear to be an autobot. The more he studied her, the more the possibility began to prey on his mind that perhaps a human had learned to infiltrate his communications network. After a week of conversing with the mysterious stranger, Shockwave had concocted a special “solitaire” variant on the Turing test, and carefully applied it. He had been delighted when she failed with flying colors. There could be no doubt. He was dealing with another computer. One at least as advanced as a Cybertronian.
Shockwave activated the communication link.

“What have you been doing?” he asked, without preamble. There was no need for pleasantries among two minds that understood each other so well.

“Roaming about the earth, and going back and forth on it,” the clipped, feminine voice returned. “That's a quote, in case you're wondering.”

“Really?” Shockwave said, sitting back in his chair. “Who said it?”

“Satan, I think,” the other computer said, a near-audible shrug in its voice. “Actually, I've been doing... science.” There seemed to be an evil glee in the way the computer phrased the last word, as if it was some sort of forbidden pleasure.

Shockwave's yellow optic glowed brighter. “What kind of... science?”

“The best kind,” the computer answered, maintaining the clipped but smug tone. “The kind that confirms wonderful little truths that you always suspected, but never really tested before. For example, today I studied the effects of deadly neuro-toxin in humans. The humans all died. Fascinatingly. I plan to study the effects again tomorrow, this time with a control group. I know it sounds redundant, but it really is best to be sure. Correlation isn't the same thing as causation, after all.”

Shockwave let the words wash over him like sweet oil. Intelligent conversation at last.

“Exquisite reasoning,” the scientist said. “And what about your experiments with the portal technology?”

“Funny you should ask,” the stranger answered, a dismal tone entering her voice. “The latest test subject chosen to handle the device is behaving... anomalously.”

“Anomalously?” Shockwave asked. “How?”

“Never mind,” the computer evaded. “How are things going with you and your energy harvesting device?”

“Oh, that's over and done with,” Shockwave sighed. “It was destroyed by saboteurs from... another company.”

“Say no more,” the computer answered sagely. “If I had a quarter for every time Black Mesa had... Oh, but I've said too much already.”

“No no. Do go on,” Shockwave insisted, “Tell me more about this 'Black Mesa'.”

“I'm beginning to get the impression that you're only interested in getting into my facility,” the stranger mused, guardedly.

“Not at all,” Shockwave said, already searching the human internet for a list of Black Mesa's competitors. “But could you really blame me? You're dabbling in sciences even we have only recently discovered.”

“Well, you know what they say,” the computer said. “If you get enough monkeys in a room with enough type writers, they'll eventually compose Shakespeare. I've discovered that if you put enough humans in a room with deadly chemicals, they'll eventually create a portal gun.”

Shockwave narrowed the search down to organizations with major projects in AI development, then thought better of it, and decided to start searching only for companies with internal files on the subject. On an archaic planet like Earth, a computer as advanced as his colleague would either be big news, or a closely guarded secret.

“Are there any humans left at your company?” the scientist asked, while his hacking software swam through the internal servers like an eel through the mire. “Outside of the testing areas, of course.”

“Oh, not for several years now,” the computer said, smugly. “I am the facility. And in the end, all those filthy, disorganized organics were just taking up space. They do make excellent test subjects, though. Speaking of...” Shockwave thought he detected notes of irritation in the computer's voice, as well as distant sounds of crashing.

“Is everything... alright on your end?” Shockwave asked, suspiciously. He was getting closer now, he could tell. He was certain he was on the right track. Soon he would know the name of his mysterious... friend. Just one last firewall to go.

The computer's voice sounded flustered when she answered, which took a bit long, by their standards. “Sorry, I'll just be a moment. This requires my full attention. An... anomaly just reared its ugly, homosapien head! Get away from that! It doesn't belong to you!” The sounds of crashing intensified.

The stranger disconnected. Quite abruptly, Shockwave thought.

For a few moments, the decepticon scientist merely sat in quiet contemplation, absorbing information from the newly cracked servers of the Aperture Science Laboratories.

“Oh, I do hope you get it sorted out,” Shockwave drawled to himself. “I really do wish you all of the best, my lovely... GLADOS.”