Portal: Love as a Construct

Part Eighty-Nine. The Upset

Part Eighty-Nine.  The Upset

"So what I'm saying is," Claptrap went on, peering over a ledge into a pit of toxic goo my mom still hasn't told me the makeup of, "there's like... a hierarchy.  And where you are depends on how you were made.  The parts you're made of.  Stuff like that."

I think my mom said something like this once, about how she knows what the Cores are capable of doing.  "And it's the uh, it's the same here as on Pandora, 's what you're saying.  Right?" my dad asks.

"Oh yeah," Claptrap answered.  "Only real difference is the uh... lack of humans thing."

"Are humans usually at the top?" I ask him, and both Dad and Claptrap look at me for a second. 

"Well, they... they used to be here.  As well," Dad says.

"This is an uh... unusual situation."  Claptrap rubs his hand under his optic a little.  He does that sometimes, but I'm not sure why.  "See, there's actually not a name for what your mom is.  The highest tier robot is the administration bot, but she kinda... to call her an administration bot would be an insult.  I don't think I've ever even heard of another robot at her level.  She's kinda... in a league of her own."

"Isn't she," my dad says fondly, and to keep the conversation on track I say hurriedly, "So are there a lot of administration bots on Pandora?"

"Hell no," Claptrap scoffed.  "Humans rarely manufacture those.  Too worried they'll lead a robot uprising!  Nah.  Most of the robots on Pandora are Hyperion drones.  That's the lowest level.  Above them are bots like me.  Helper bots!  Used to be tons of 'em'.  Tons of Claptraps, specifically.  There are other helper bots, made by other companies, but you gotta know where to look.  They gotta be kept a secret because they're so valuable."

"But... you just go around doing whatever you want," I say.  If he's a helper bot, isn't he super valuable?  But he just laughs.

"Care, the overall value of my existence dropped into the negatives the second I said my first sentence."

"But why?"  What could he possibly have done in the first second of his existence to make that happen?

"I mean, you could ask, but you're not gonna get an answer.  I sure didn't."

"Claptrap," my dad interjects, "if you keep rolling 'long that edge, there, you're gonna fall in.  Nobody knows what's uh, what's quite in those pits.  'cept that it probably disintegrates you."

"Ooh!" Claptrap says, continuing to balance himself along the edge of it anyway.  "So it's full of human body parts!  Just like me."

"What?"

He's joking, right?  He's gotta be joking.  But before I can ask him he slips off the edge of the panels he was balancing on, and I'm almost concerned when I realise the camera in here is active.  So she knows he fell in.  He's fine.

"Oh my God!" Dad exclaims, almost jumping over to look into the pit.  "Oh my God.  Oh, he fell in.  Oh no no no no.  Oh no.  I told him!  I told him, Claptrap, get away from there, you're going to fall in, and, and he did!  And now he's gone and, and vaporised himself, and ohhhh how'm I gonna tell Gladys?  Oh I can't believe he's dead –"

"He's not dead," I interrupt.  When Dad turns to look at me he seems pretty upset, but I don't know why he thought my mom would ever just let Claptrap fall into an acid pit and die.  "He's right there."  I gesture behind me with my lower handle.

"Hi," Claptrap says, waving, and my dad yelps and shudders backwards.

"But – but you fell in!  I saw you!"