The thin man slowly clicked his ink pen anxiously, his eyes focused on the clock that hung in his office. William Weethen, called "Wheatley" by his coworkers, was waiting to hear the news on his submission to have his personality copied and transferred into a personality core, many that of which had failed. It was requested by Cave Johnson, the owner of the company. Mr. Johnson had been working on a personality transfer, and needed qualified test subjects, and since he didn't have anything to lose, he signed up. Wheatley poked his glasses up his nose, and ran his fingers through his rough brown hair, and let loose a sigh. He was only testing one thing for something greater. Cave was going to be put into a robot as well. GlaDOS as they called it. But Cave was in bad shape, the moon gel had done some nasty stuff to him, and he was in the facilities medical chambers receiving treatment.
Before Wheatley could think on the subject any longer his pager rang, and he stood up abruptly. Knocking down a mug of coffee, which splattered all over his working khakis. With a sigh of disgust he stepped over the mess and walked out of his office and into the bustling lobby.
He pulled on his jacket that had been tied around his waste and hurried to an office not far from his. In front if him, a rather glum woman sat, whom nonchalantly handed him a folded slip of paper, upon unfolding it, he noticed that in bright green letters, the word "ACCEPTED" was stamped on his paper. Wheatley sighed in relief. "Brilliant! How brilliant," he said smiling.
Wheatley nervously walked out of the glass elevator, tugging at his collar. A thin woman was sitting at a desk, and didn't seem to notice him. "Uh... Hallo!" He said, giving her an awkward wave. She looked up from the computer monitor and sighed. "Do you have an appointment?" She asked in a monotone. "Err, yes. I'm William Weethen, I'm here for the personality core expirament, I believe," the man said nervously. The woman just nodded, and told him he could go on to the lab, which he did.
"Ah! You must be William," a man, much shorter than Wheatley said. Wheatley waved nervously, and walked over to the man. "Um, yeah, but please just call me Wheatley," he requested. The man studied him for a moment, and finally let off his stare. "Ah... Yes, just come with me," he said. Wheatley could have sworn that there was something fishy about his tone, but he simply shrugged it off.
Wheatley was tied to a cold steel operating table. Before he could say anything to resist, he was tied down in leather buckles. "What are these for...?" He asked, looking at his bonds in fear. "Well, if you would have read he contract, you would have noticed that you signed up for a full body transfer..." He purred before placing a tube over his face. "What! No!" He cried, but was soon knocked unconscious as the laughing gas flowed through his lungs.