It was a chilly Autumn day when it happened.
It started out normal, a beautiful and peaceful Autumn day, the sun's magnificent beans dancing
across the surface of the water and warming the land around it. A particularity strong breeze rippled
through the trees, blowing some colorful leaves off and scattering them all around the sidewalk like a
mini tornado. Some people would ignore this day, and pass it off as any other ordinary day, but in the
midst of all the humans rushing to get to whatever job they had, one was walking, taking time out of
life to enjoy the little things. But today, he wasn't. He rubbed his blond hair in worry, the stress of his
job catching up on him.
"C'mon Wheaters, it's just a promotion... It's not a prank... Nononono, don't bloody think of
that! It's just a NORMAL promotion." With a sigh and a quickened pace, Wheatley began talking to
himself again. He had a bad habit of doing this when he was worried, and today was a day to be
worried about. Yesterday, while he was in his office, Mrs. Caroline walked up to him and handed him a
golden slip with fancy handwriting... It looked like a promotion, but he had no idea, even up to this
very minute. He took the letter out of his backpack, taking a deep breath and softly brushing the letters
that mean more then they seemed.
Dear Wheatley Everson,
We here at Aperture Laboratories would like to give you an amazing offer! We have decided to take
our most dedicated workers and let them try out our new test! This test will...
The letter rambled on about how it would bond him to the laboratories forever... Then a
signature line. Wheatley was going to regret this, he was sure of that, but he'd regret not signing it
more. Mr. Johnson would blow up on him, maybe fire him, if he didn't take this. The project he was put
in was called the "A.I. Duplicate Plan." It was supposed to duplicate your personality and put one in a
sphere they called an Artificial Intelligence, effectively duplicating your whole self. Wheatley tore his
eyes from the letter to the gray and bleak facility that lied in front of him, hidden by a grove of trees,
and darkened by the eerie shadows cast by those same trees. Normally, Wheatley wasn't scared to go to
work. But this letter could be tricking Wheatley into something that originally flew right past him.
Nerveless, he found himself face-to-face with the metal doors he had faced many times before. He
entered completely silent, his eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. Chell, the desk lady, called him
over.
"Wheatley."
Her call was enough to change Wheatley's direction from towards the elevator down to the workplace
to the front desk.
"'Ello, luv! Everything okay?" Wheatley did honestly care for the desk lady, for she was the only
one who would listen to his ramblings. She nodded her head and spoke.
"Don't sign the letter." Chell wasn't much of a talker. Those four words confused Wheatley
Was she scared? Her eyes were big, and she shivered a bit.
"Don't worry, I won't. It's not that bad, anyway, duplicating your personality is-"
"WHEATLEY EVERSON! You're needed at the surgical wing." A sweet, but loud, voice echoed
through the room, calling for Wheatley. It was Amarie, the girl that did the dirty work of the two
Johnsons. Wheatley jumped to attention and waved at Chell, who didn't wave back. It didn't take long
for Wheatley to catch up to Amarie, for he was a pretty good runner. "Did you sign the letter?" Amarie
asked, her voice cool, calm, and collected. Wheatley felt sweat form on his body as he nodded yes.
Being nervous was a common thing for him, so the blond woman didn't seem to notice.
"Follow me." Her voice was suddenly full of sadness and mourning, a sharp contrast to the sweet,
melodic voice of before. Wheatley was led into an elevator, and Amarie clicked a few buttons to make
the elevator go down to the medical wing of the facility. Mostly used for hurt test subjects, the Medical
Wing was the scariest place to be in the facility, for it smelled of death and chemicals. Wheatley was
starting to worry. What was going on? The ride seemed like forever, until Wheatley smelled Anesthetic
in the air... No. Gah, he HATED THIS FACILITY! It WAS all a trick...
"I'm sorry..." Amarie whispered, putting on a mask and watching Wheatley quickly lose conciseness.
Wheatley opened his optics and looked around at his fellow scientists as the gaped and laughed at
him, all gathered around him like he was an alien or something, until one of them spoke.
"Good morning, I.D. Core! How do you feel?'