Science Ethics

A fic by Wepon

Note; This fic requires a bit of backstory to it. My headcanon for Wheatley is that he used to work at Aperture Science, much like in the way Caroline did before Aperture went to hell. Now that that's said and done, I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I had fun writing it. Feel free to leave reviews!

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The sharp tone of a whistle echoed down the pristine halls of Aperture Science, bouncing off the whitewashed walls and coming back to the tall, blonde-haired janitor's ears. He stood on tiptoe, a ratty rag clutched in between his greasy, gloved fingers as he dragged it over a window looking into a rather posh conference room. He drew back from his work, nodding his head in approval as a smile revealing rows of crooked-teeth materialized on his face. "Brilliant! Now I only 'ave half of the ole' office compound to finish!" He placed his hands on his hips, an eyebrow raised as he did so.

The sound of high heels over linoleum tile struck his ear drums like a bell. Instantly, he lifted his hand, biting the end of the rag and fumbling with his collar. Pulling out a dirtied pair of semi-circled glasses, he pushed them up the bridge of his nose and blinked, vision swimming. The man's vision was fine of course, he just thought they made him look smart. He was what, in his words he would call a 'numpty'. A numpty surrounded by a bunch of boffins too engrossed in their 'scientific studies' to deal with the meager tasks he performed on his side of the facility complex.

He'd been stuck with tasks the scientists just didn't want to do. Cleaning the offices, sweeping the floors, and keeping everything wreathed in a blinding pallor. The janitor sure didn't know about science, but he could fix anything with two toothpicks, a toothbrush, and his own weight in duct tape.

However, the footsteps down the hall dragged him back into reality, and his mouth opened, dropping the rag into his hands. Turning around, blue eyes focused on the familiar figure of Mr. Johnson's secretary. The woman strode up to him, an eyebrow raising critically as she surveyed the spotlessness of the area around her, dark eyes then drifting down to the man before her.

"'Ello!" He remarked cheerily, grin returning to his face.

"Mr. Johnson sent for you, Mr.." The woman, called Caroline if he remembered correctly, flipped through the clipboard held in her hands, eyes flashing in recognition. "Wheatley?" The janitor nodded. "That's my name, don't wear it out." She nodded disinterestedly, eyes squinting as if she struggled to read words on the clipboard before her.

"You remember when Mr. Johnson asked you about working on the Turret Redemption line? Before you were.. usurped, per se?" Wheatley blinked, that didn't seem like the correct word for it, but he simply shrugged, nodding. He'd heard stories about that part of Aperture. The caretaker of the old place had went insane. Chopped up his entire staff. Of robots. Needless to say, he was quite okay with not getting the job. "Well, you have been appointed to tending to the test subjects, in the stasis wing." Caroline pointed in It's general direction, cocking her head to the side in question.
"Can't you just watch em' on your telly?"

"We need someone to awake them once It's time for their testing period."
"Ah, good point, good point.."

Voice trailed off as hand placed itself on his chin, eyebrow raised quizzically as he mulled it over. "Sounds good," He finally said, grinning.

"But-" Caroline interjected, tapping one finger against the hard back of the clipboard. "But?" Wheatley repeated, head tilting. "Mr. Johnson also told me that in order for you to take this job, you must have your memory.. backed up on a disc for future.. uses." A steely glare was shed on him, a very critical eyebrow raised. Wheatley thought about this for all of two seconds when he jumped up, mind set in stone. "I'll do it! What's the worst at' could happen?"

No one questioned the absence of a certain custodian a few weeks later.

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