Thank you so much to Vi-Violence, Obsessive Fan, VanillaCoffeeCream, EggplantWitch and 19James92 for your reviews! You're all very kind and if I could hug you I would!
Holed up in the small office miles underground, Chell sat hunched over the surveillance system monitor. She gazed intently at the video in front of her, tightly hugging her knees and completely lost to her musty surroundings. She raised one finger and gingerly tapped the fast forward button, careful not to miss Wheatley's first day of his new job as Financial Adviser. Wheatley, in a high-ranking position of responsibility? Now this was something she had to see.
[09:20 – Apr 25 1983]
"…$1,388,373 over budget, which is… let's see… a hundred thousand dollars more than last quarter. The Weapons Development department is running at a deficit of $2,145,625 and that is… umm… also up from last quarter. Quantum Tunnelling Development is also…"
Cave Johnson sat in his huge throne of chair, elbows planted firmly on his grand desk, listening to Wheatley in the manner of a king tolerating a hated court jester. He glared at the skinny dork of a man as he gestured wildly from the other side of his desk. Glared at his papers and his numbers; at his red ink and bad news.
Suddenly, Cave barked out an interruption.
"Alright, alright I get it already! We are majorly in the red! I get it! So then, Mr Financial Adviser, what do you advise that we do about our finances? That's what I pay you for around here, let's hear your expert opinions."
Wheatley paused, unsettled his boss's gaze, and struggled to hide his nerves.
"W-well, I've been looking over the figures, at all our turnover and expenditure and so on, and I think I have a couple of suggestions for how we can reduce Aperture's debt!"
Cave continued to glare, his expression darkening with malevolence.
"Go on."
"Ahh, r-right, well… First up are just some points on general efficiency and reducing wastage. I-I noticed that we seem to spend a lot on overheads, like lighting and heating and-"
"I know what overheads are, boy, now what do you suggest?" barked Cave.
Wheatley jumped, dropping his gaze and nearly the stack of papers as well. He fiddled with his glasses, wiped his brow and tried to control his panic.
"Uhh, ahh, well, d-do we really need to have every floodlight in the facility burning 24 hours a day? I mean it would really-"
"Yes, of course we need them on! What else are we supposed to do, sit in the dark? Think, boy! What else do you have?" Cave tapped his broad fingers impatiently on the desk.
"Ahh, w-well, there's heating as well. I sort of noticed that we're running completely separate systems for heating the offices and for heating the furnaces and incinerator, do you think we can maybe…?"
Cave raised one bushy eyebrow at him.
"N-never mind, it was a silly… moving on…"
Wheatley flicked through page after page of notes, desperately seeking a suggestion that wouldn't be immediately shot down by Cave.
"Well, how about this one… We seem to spend a lot on crickets and other insects, I mean we're ordering crates of them at a time, every week, and I-I spoke to the head of animal storage and he only uses a fraction of them, same with the other departments too. I can't see why we would ever need that many, so we could… maybe order less?"
"Absolutely not! We can't cut our Cricket Budget, boy, it's a vital part of the work we do here!"
"But-but what are they used for?" spluttered Wheatley.
Cave rose from his desk, shoving his chair back.
"I don't pay you to question me! You're a numbers guy, remember, not a Science guy! And if you don't have anything useful to suggest then get out of my office!" he shouted, jamming a finger towards the door.
"But I'm not finished-"
"GET OUT!"
As Wheatley clutched at his fluttering papers in his escape from the office, Chell pondered to herself. Was it just her imagination, or did Wheatley seem almost… competent? Chell didn't know much about finance or running a business, but his ideas seemed to have a certain logic behind them that even she could appreciate. Who knew that Wheatley could be so sensible? If only he had even the smallest amount of bravery to back those ideas up against Cave's opposition.
With a derisive smirk on her lips, Chell spun the dial to speed through years of Wheatley's time as Financial Advisor. She realised she was seeing the same scene flash by time and time again: the same office and the same two people.
[09:18 – Jun 11 1985]
As she pressed play she noticed that Wheatley had aged visibly in the last five minutes: he had lost some of his boyish scruffiness over the years and gained a few lines around his eyes and mouth. He appeared haggard and exhausted as he lifted his stack of papers and proceeded to flick through them.
"Right, well, things haven't improved from last week I'm afraid. Still… still a lot of debt. Lots of debt, big, massive deficits and far too much red. Actually, is there any black on here? …No, no black at all, all red, we are… well and truly… in the red. So yes, my advice would be… well… maybe some kind of massive insurance scam? Just-just my little joke there, please don't… O-other than that, let's see… Well, there is the same suggestion I made last week, you know, with the cutting down on Moon rocks? It really is our biggest- No, don't give me the look again, I know…"
As Wheatley continued to fumble through his notes and suggestions Chell noticed with a start the date on the video's timestamp. June 1985 – this was only seven months before the end of the footage in January 1986! What could possibly have happened during these months to turn this well-meaning, if spineless, idiot into, well, her Wheatley? She decided to be a little more prudent with the fast forward button; she had to pay close attention during these crucial final months.
[09:46 – Jun 18 1985]
"And don't give me any of that "negative results are still valuable" bullcrap. That's loser talk and there's no room for losers at Aperture! This place is run entirely by winners, and winners know that only positive results are worth a damn. Seriously, if you people haven't got that into your heads by now then just pack your things and go. Take your precious negative results and show them to someone who gives a crap!"
Cave glowered furiously at the guilty faces seated around him, his broad hands grasping at the long table.
"I mean, how hard can it be to extract a man's intelligence onto a computer? Everything's done on computers these days! What's taking you people so long with this one? How can a man's thoughts be any different from music or movies, or some computer program? That stuff gets recorded onto disks every damn day!"
He scanned the table like a wolf choosing its next meal.
"You! Lab coat! What's-your-name… Jenkins!"
Jenkins bolted upright like a startled deer, sweat on his brow and panic on his face. His colleagues turned to him, offering their silent looks of condolence.
"You're supposed to be in charge of running the extraction procedure, what's the hold-up?"
"Uh, well… we believe the delay is due to a technical issue with our equipment. I-I mean, we've run test after test but all our attempts at extraction have been unsuccessful to date. However, the results we've obtained have been very illuminating and we hope to learn from our negative res- …No! No! Wait, that's not what I meant to say! I was going to say… uh…"
"Jenkins. Pack your things, you're fired. There's no room for loser talk at Aperture."
Every eye at the table was on Jenkins as he rose shakily from his chair. He walked past his former colleagues in a daze, gently pushed the boardroom door open and stepped outside into the hallway.
"Right, where were we? That's right… You! Other Lab boy! Beside the empty chair, it's Garcia isn't it? Perhaps you'd like to continue where Dr I-Love-Failure left off?"
Garcia cast a quick nervous glance to the vacated seat beside him before answering Cave.
"Well, umm, I think what Dr Jenkins was trying to say was that we're still in the process of optimising the extraction procedure. The best we've managed to achieve so far from our experiments is a partial intelligence extraction from the test subjects. In other words, the robot subjects to date have all been corrupted or completely non-functional, whereas the human subjects have all suffered partial to complete brain death. In order to improve these results we've tried a whole range of different wavelengths and voltages for the Intelligence Extractor, and we've also experimented with different cognitive states of the test subjects too. We subjected some to mental or emotional duress, others were drugged into a state of bliss, another group was rendered unconscious-"
"Cut to the chase man!"
"Oh, ok, well, it's just that we've tried so many experimental parameters that have all resulted in complete failure or only partial intelligence extraction. We therefore came to the conclusion that the most likely cause of the failure is that the equipment itself is not sufficient for our needs. We need something that's at the cutting edge, and we did put in a request to Finance for new equipment but…"
Cave switched his piercing gaze to a bespectacled man in a sharp suit.
"Edwards! Why didn't Finance approve their funding request? I thought I told you to give these guys everything they need!"
Edwards calmly held Cave's scrutiny and replied.
"We simply do not have the finance in place to approve every funding request that we receive. The equipment the team is currently using is not even six months old. It is far too soon to decide that it is cause of their lack of success and not, for example, shoddy experimental work. I'm sure that results will be obtained if enough time and effort is put into them and not merely by throwing money at the problem."
Garcia gasped in outrage at Edwards' remark.
"Hey! Take that back! We're working ourselves to the bone here trying to get this to work, not like some people who just sit at their desks all day!"
Edwards sighed, like a parent to a greedy child.
"You know what they say about bad workmen and their tools…" he sneered.
Cave slapped a hand to the table, preventing Garcia from rising to the bait and startling the board members.
"Enough, people! Quit bickering, we've all got to work together to solve this sucker! And besides…" His voice became quiet and icy.
"Why am I only being informed now about the Intelligence Extraction Team's funding shortages? Wheatley, look alive!"
Wheatley jumped and attempted to cover the doodle he'd been drawing.
"I thought I made it perfectly clear you're supposed to advise me of all problems with our finances? Or was Financial Adviser not a clear enough job description for you?" Cave asked through gritted teeth.
Wheatley gave an offended squawk.
"Wait, me? You're blaming me for this? Oh hang on Mr Johnson, that's a bit unfair, I did tell you! I told you last week that the whole R&D department's broke! I swear I did! Well, I don't think I worded it as a "funding shortage" exactly, that makes it sound a lot less catastrophic than it actually is. Hang on, let me check the exact words… checking the old notebook here… Ah, there! It was in last week's meeting, like I said! I wrote it here as: "R&D has no money and hasn't had a realistic budget in years". That's what I said, that's what I told you last week, remember?"
Cave gave a menacing look.
"I don't care how you worded it, boy. You're supposed to be telling me everything that's going on around here - you're my eyes and ears! You didn't even tell me about their faulty equipment!"
"Ah, well now, that not really a Finance issue is it? Nothing at all to do with Finance and that's why I didn't mention it, ordering new equipment's all done by Procurement! …Or maybe Maintenance deals with faulty equipment… might even be the lab manager… Alright, I don't know exactly which department deals with it, but I can say with absolute 100% certainty it is not Finance, I can guarantee you that! Definitely not a financial matter and therefore not a matter for a Financial Adviser such as myself to be dealing with!"
He beamed at his logic. Cave did not agree.
"I don't have time for your bureaucratic nit-picking, boy. This mess is your fault and if the Intelligence Extraction Project is set back even one day thanks to your negligence then so help me-"
As much as Chell enjoyed watching Wheatley's misfortunes, this was so unfair that it was just uncomfortable to watch. She hadn't appreciated how truly deranged Cave Johnson had become in his twilight years; the recorded messages from Cave she had heard on her previous visit seemed almost pleasant compared this brutal rant against Wheatley. Turning away in disgust, Chell fast forwarded through the rest of the meeting and stopped at the familiar view of the dorm room.
[19:33 – Nov 21 1985]
On pressing play, Chell noticed a strange crackling sound emanating from the speakers, and leaned in with a confused grimace as she tried to identify it. Perhaps the microphone in the room was starting to malfunction over the years? She reached over to adjust the volume.
"WOULD YOU SHUT UP WITH THAT DAMN CROAKING NOISE ALREADY!" roared Rick, craning his head over the edge of his bunk to shoot a dirty look up at his roommate. "You're giving me a headache! What's your problem anyway?"
Wheatley removed the pillow from his face and rolled onto his side.
"What do you think my problem is?" he snapped grumpily, "It's Cave! It's always Cave! All he ever does is shout at me and- and blame me for stuff, it's doing my head in! You know what he blamed me for today? Hot dogs! Or the lack of hot dogs anyway, he said I was supposed to have advised him the canteen had run out of hot dogs early. That's not Finance! That's not anything, it's just lunch!"
He groaned in exasperation.
"You know what I feel like? It's like… there was this show I saw one time on the telly when I was little, it was some kind of documentary about a priest man in Peru… or Uganda… I'm sure it had a "u" in it. Anyway, the priest man was all dressed up in bones and skins, and he had this little furry guinea pig with him, right? Well, there was this local bloke who came to him complaining about bad luck and asked for the priest's help. So the priest got the guinea pig and held it up to the man's chest and ran it over his body, all over his arms and legs like it was some kind of sponge. He said it was absorbing all the bad luck from the man, right? Well, then he let the guinea pig go, just let it run off into the forest and it took all the bad luck with it. My point is: I'm the guinea pig! That's what I am! And Cave's the crazy priest with the bones, he's blaming me for everything and making me absorb all the bad luck in Aperture!"
Wheatley gave another frustrated moan and tossed the pillow back onto his scowling face. On the bunk below Rick just looked confused.
"Buddy, I think the word you're looking for is "scapegoat". When you say "guinea pig" it kinda implies that Cave's experimenting on you. I mean, the guy pulls a lot of crap on his employees but he hasn't tried that one yet!" said Rick with a laugh.
"…Fine, I'm Cave's "escape goat", it doesn't really matter what it's called. All I mean is he's not keeping me around for my financial expertise, if you know what I'm saying," he moaned.
There was suddenly a conspiratorial edge to Wheatley's voice.
"And Rick, I wouldn't laugh at the idea of Cave making employees into test subjects, didn't you hear about the people who've been disappearing at night?"
Rick laughed again at Wheatley's serious tone.
"Yeah, sure! Name one person who's disappeared."
"Well, there was that guy, you know, the guy from Sales!" insisted Wheatley.
"What guy from Sales?"
"Well, I don't know his name exactly, but I heard it from one of the Junior Accountants and he's got a mate over in Sales!" said Wheatley, as if this settled the matter.
"Aww, come on man! You've gotta stop believing everything you hear, it's like that thing with the Mantis-men all over again!"
"It's true, I'm sure it is! And I don't know why you're laughing, there really are Mantis-men in the basement…"
Rick shook his head in disbelief with a smirk on his lips.
"Sure, whatever you say. You've gotta be the most paranoid person I've ever met."
The smirk left his face and was replaced by concern.
"But seriously, buddy, if Cave's really making you miserable then why don't you just quit? Just walk out the door and show Cave who's the boss."
His face suddenly lit up.
"Oh, if you're leaving you're gonna need a cool exit line! Let's see, it's gotta be a good one… how about, "hey Cave, you want my advice? You're an asshole!"
Wheatley looked horrified.
"I-I can't say that, mate! I don't even want to leave Aperture! It's all I've wanted to do ever since I was little. I don't care how bad it gets, I left everything behind so that I could work here and I won't leave now!"
A sad look appeared in his eyes.
"I can't leave anyway, even if I wanted to. It might be cold and underground and filled with crap food and evil bosses, but it's my home and I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Surely you must have somewhere you can crash for a while? I get that you're not on great terms with your family, but don't you have any friends outside Aperture? Someone who could take you in, maybe get you a job?"
Wheatley shook his head.
"I've only ever had one friend outside of Aperture, my old teacher Mr Doblevski, but I haven't seen him in years. I really miss him though, he was so nice to me and he was one of those people who just seemed to know everything about everything, you know? He was the one who taught me how to be an accountant, and he did everything he could to make sure I got into Aperture. We tried to keep in touch for a while and I used to visit him sometimes when I first arrived here. But I had to stop when, you know, they introduced those forms you had to fill in to leave the facility."
"Yeah, if I had a nickel for the number of hiking trips I've had ruined by those stupid forms. It's all "duration of leave" and "reason of leave", as if just wanting to go outside isn't a valid enough reason! And having to get escorted up to the surface like a little kid, and having them wait on you coming back, tapping their watch. It sucks man."
"I know, it does… suck. I really missed Mr Doblevski and I wanted to visit him in Maple Hill, but they wanted me to write all his contact details down on the form and… I don't know, I just didn't want to do that to him. So I had to stop visiting, and then they cut off personal phone calls to outside the facility too so we lost all contact. I can't just turn up on his doorstep, I mean, it would be like "Hello! Haven't seen you in ten years! Can I sleep on your sofa?" I don't want to do that to him."
Chell shook her head softly at Wheatley's remark. He was wrong, Dean Doblevski would have gladly taken him in. He had taken her in, hadn't he? She didn't even belong in Maple Hill, not like Wheatley did.
"Alright, I get it. If you don't want to leave you could at least take a different job in Aperture, something a bit further away from Cave. How about you ask for your old job back in Accounting?"
"It's alright Rick, don't worry about it. I'll just stick it out, I was having a bit of a moan there but it's not that bad really. I'm sure Cave has reached maximum crazy already, he can't possibly get any worse."
Rick didn't appear convinced.
"What about you, Rick? Do you have any ambitions outside of Aperture?"
Rick took the bait and completely abandoned his interrogation.
"I definitely want to leave Aperture, even if you don't. I can't stand being stuck underground like this, I want to get out and see the world! You know that movie Indiana Jones we watched a few months ago? I want to be like that guy! Travelling the world, exploring where no-one's been in thousands of years, picking up hot women, fighting bad guys… That's the life for me! I'm sick of Weapons Development, some of the stuff we're making down there makes me feel like some kind of supervillain. I should be out there fighting the bad guys, not stuck down here in a lab making weapons for them! One of these days, man, one of these days I'll be out of here for good."
[17:36 – Jan 11 1986]
The screen turned to a view that Chell had not yet seen: a long narrow corridor lined with countless doors stretching off into the distance. In the middle of this corridor stood Wheatley, his hand poised indecisively at one of the many doors. He briefly glanced back at the door behind him, before he screwed up his courage and knocked briskly. After a brief pause the door was opened by a man just out of sight, and Chell could only see one tattooed arm leaning on the door frame.
"Oh, hello! Keith, I was wondering if you've seen Rick at all today? I've just come back from work and went into our room and, well, Rick's not there. I mean, he's not there at all. All of his stuff's gone from our room and- and the bed's been stripped and all the linen's folded on top the bed - it's so neat and tidy it's like he was never there at all. There's no note from him and he didn't say anything to me this morning about leaving so I'm just a little worried. Quite a lot worried actually, I'm really properly scared – what if something's happened to him? Did he say anything to you?"
Wheatley gazed helplessly at the man opposite.
"Well, alright… Just- just let me know if you hear anything, ok?"
The worry was plain to see on his face as the door slowly closed behind him.
The next chapter might take a little longer to come out than before, I'm sorry. I was trying my best to have a weekly release, because I know that's what I prefer when I'm reading fanfictions, but things have been so busy lately that I've got a bit behind with the chapters. I'll try and get it out as soon as I can!