Enjoy this penultimate chapter.
Naturally, he'd been fired from his rail inspector job. Besides his little hacking detour, he had apparently forgotten that he was required to make hourly check-ins with his boss about the state of the rail. Considering that he'd missed no less than eight of those reports over the past few days, he'd been fired long before the Boss Bot even found him.
If that hadn't been enough to depress him, then his newly-revised job list was. After striking several jobs off the list, either due to not fulfilling the necessary requirements or by being fired from them first-hand, he was left with two sad options.
Assistant turret production foreman (x1)
Extended Relaxation Center manager (x1)
Under normal circumstances, he would have zipped off to apply for the higher-ranking job without a second thought. He'd never been the manager of anything before, and he was a little anxious for the chance to be the boss of someone instead of being bossed. However, there was a reason he hadn't already attempted a career as an Extended Relaxation Center manager. In the Relaxation Center, he would have to deal with humans.
A week or so after the incident with neurotoxin release button, he'd learned that there were, in fact, humans residing in the facility. They just tended to inhabit two very specific areas. One of these was the testing tracks, which he dared not go near for fear of being spotted by one of Her security cameras. The other area was the Relaxation Center, which he also avoided due to the sheer number of humans involved. Thousands upon thousands of sleeping, probably-smelly humans. He wasn't quite sure how they smelled – he didn't have the sensory equipment to find out – but some of them had gone weeks without bathing or using deodorant. They wouldn't smell like lilacs, that'd be sure.
He knew that humans, smelly or not, were much more intelligent than the narrow-sighted AIs he encountered on a regular basis. They understood everything he said, even if he used an accent…hang on, he should turn that back on. He set his vocal algorithms back to their most recent reincarnation.
Where was he? Oh, yes. Even though humans were smart, possibly even as smart as he was, they refused to see him as an equal. They were easily intelligent enough to realize that he was a person too, but they completely disregarded his ideas, his hopes and wishes. They knew perfectly well he was sentient – they'd tested him for that countless times – but they didn't have the decency to act like he was. They treated him like an expensive electronic toy, someone they could play with who wouldn't mind if they laughed at him. He minded a lot, thank you very much!
Alright, he'd admit that Doug didn't exactly fit under this umbrella. Doug was the one human who had treated Wheatley like an actual person. Doug had been concerned for his well-being not because his job called for it, but because he honestly wanted little, insignificant Wheatley to be okay. And, yes, Doug was the human he had met most recently.
Wheatley was aware that, like him, humans had the ability to change who they were. But, he wasn't going to manage the Relaxation Center on the slim chance that the entire human race had suddenly become nice people during the seven-ish months he'd been trapped in the corrupted core bin. Doug was probably the exception that proved the rule: humans weren't friendly to computers, only other humans. Even then, humans could be fairly nasty to each other.
Plus, he felt a twinge of…nervousness whenever he thought about the Relaxation Center. He couldn't point out exactly why he felt this way, something about that area was not quite right, if not possibly dangerous.
With this in mind, he sped off to the turret production area of the facility. Perhaps if he tried really, really hard to be good at this penultimate job, he wouldn't get fired again. Then, he wouldn't be forced to manage the Relaxation Center as a last resort to fulfill his purpose.
"What do you mean, you won't hire me?" he replied to the turret production foreman.
The robotic foreman repeated its last output. "Your work history is not suitable for becoming an assistant turret production foreman. Your employment as one cannot be initiated."
"Work history? That's never stopped anyone before…" He dimly recalled something the Boss Bot had said around him earlier that day. "Wait, I don't even have an accessible work file. I haven't told you anything about my past jobs yet, so how do you even know my work history?"
Most foreman and management robots in Aperture followed the exact same design: one three-pronged hand, one red eye. Upon closer inspection, however, something set this foreman apart from all the other robots in the facility. A small, thin scratch arced just above the eye.
Wheatley's own eye widened in recognition. "My neurotoxin boss! Ahem, sorry, mate, for not recognizing you earlier. You see, I didn't realize that you would be working in this area of the facility. If She ordered it, then you'd have to change jobs, I suppose, but I just thought you'd be standing guard at that button for the rest of your life, especially considering how someone managed to touch it when your back was turned. And that someone was me. Um, not really helping my case, is it? At least about getting hired."
The foreman didn't respond to this comment. It was a fairly simplistic AI, after all. It probably didn't care whether or someone recognized it.
Wheatley chuckled nervously. "Alright, I understand that you wouldn't hire me if there were a few other robots lined up to take this job. But, as things look right now, there aren't. I'm probably the only unemployed robot in all of Aperture. Since there isn't anyone else who can be your assistant, you're stuck with me, whether you like it or not."
The foreman required a few seconds to process a suitable response. "A request for a new management-type robot just has been filed," it responded simply. "It will arrive in approximately three days to become the assistant turret production foreman."
Wheatley narrowed his eye at this. "Oh, so you're making a new robot to take the position. How well do you think a newbie will do on this kind of job, though? Your job covers the entire turret production process – can someone that inexperienced handle the level of competence you'd require from an assistant? I, at least, have a broad history in several different jobs. I have experience, which is a marvelous thing for management to have, am I right?"
The foreman replied with a handful of familiar phrases. "Your work history is not suitable for becoming an assistant turret production foreman. Your employment as one cannot be initiated."
He felt a bubbling frustration build up inside of him. "I know! I know. My history hasn't been great, especially with you. I know I've made mistakes, so many mistakes that I lost count a long time ago. But, I can change! I know I can. I don't know why I should be able to, or how I know I can, but I do. If you'd just give me a second chance, I know I can get better."
There wasn't even a pause before the foreman responded. Obviously, it believed that processing what Wheatley had said was a waste of time. "Your employment as an assistant turret production foreman cannot be initiated."
He felt an indignant flare of anger at this. "Oh, so it doesn't matter if I can learn from my mistakes. Maybe it's not the inside that counts to you, is it? Maybe it's the outside. You just want another management-type robot on your force. A bot that looks exactly like you."
"Your employment as a turret production foreman cannot be initiated."
"You know what? Fine. I don't need this job," he huffed. He commanded his rail fixture to begin rolling away as he shouted a few last words to the foreman. "I've got a ritzy job all lined up for me down in the Relaxation Center anyways. I'll be a full manager, not a tiny assistant-manager like the job you're offering me. I was only down here for your, your self-esteem! But since we're not exactly on friendly terms, apparently, it's not like I should care about that anymore. Here's the truth, the cold, hard truth: you're a horrible boss. That's right, I said it! You're such a horrible boss that I don't even want to work as your assistant anymore! How does that make you feel?"
He turned away from the robot and increased his speed, looking to get as far away as possible. After giving himself a few moments to calm down, his anger cooling to disappointment, he realized how silly he'd acted during the whole conversation. Of course the foreman would refuse to hire him – simplistic AIs couldn't understand things they hadn't been programmed to experience themselves. They didn't register regret or sorrow, and thus they had no concept of forgiveness. None of them could learn, so they would never believe that others had the ability to.
Robots were just as bad as humans, weren't they? Humans made the conscious decision to treat him like a nobody, but at least he had the chance to convince them otherwise. If he tried enough times, they would eventually have to take him seriously. No matter how many times he tried the same for a robot, they would never respect him. They were physically incapable of it.
Making his move before he had the chance to change his mind, he took a left at the next rail intersection, heading towards the Aperture Science Extended Relaxation Center.
By now, Wheatley was very used to traveling around the facility. It was difficult to believe that he'd only been connected to his management rail for a month, tops. It had taken him only a few minutes after his meeting with Doug to get used to moving along the rail, and now he could barely imagine a life without it. Granted, even with all the freedom the rail provided him, his movement options were fairly restricted. He could only go where the rail went, after all. Still, limited freedom was better than no freedom.
Most of the time, when he traveled from one area to another, it was not a very eventful trip. He sometimes saw other robots, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't strike up a conversation with any of them. After a while, he learned to simply stop trying, coasting along the rail in silence. He occasionally talked to himself along these trips to organize his thoughts, but he reserved this for when he was alone, away from suspicious eyes.
As he made the long, confusing journey of twists and turns to the Extended Relaxation Center, however, something interesting did manage to happen. It was a lot of interesting things, actually. The first of these was a faint communication signal that rippled through the rail, so weak that he wouldn't have noticed it if he'd devoted his attention to anything important. He couldn't identify the exact contents of the feeble signal, but he did recognize the identification tag on it: Hers. This felt a little suspicious, but he didn't exactly have any time to deal with it at the moment. If it was important, he would deal with it later.
The next signal was much stronger. He wasn't wrong about the identification code – the signal was definitely in Her voice. However, there was something very wrong with it. The last time he had heard Her, She'd sounded clipped and distorted. This voice was smoother, less restrained. "That's it. I'm done reasoning with you. Starting now, there's going to be a lot less conversation and a lot more killing."
His pace along the management rail slowed to a crawl as he gawked. "What?" The signal wasn't specifically directed towards him – it was resonating all along the rail. Who was She trying to talk to? Whoever it was, he could tell it wasn't one of Her friends. "Does She even have any friends? Who haven't been hacked into obeying Her every whim, at least."
He detected a few more weakened signals, all of them too faint to decode. His interest was immediately piqued. She almost certainly had enough power to relay the signal throughout the entire facility if She wanted to. She clearly wasn't talking to him in particular, but if She wasn't, then he shouldn't have detected any signals at all. It almost felt like She was sending out the signals unintentionally, but She was trying to dampen them as best She could.
Finally, he managed to catch a signal that was barely strong enough to understand. "This isn't brave. It's murder. What did I ever do to you?"
"…What?" he exclaimed. "Someone's trying to murder Her? That…that makes a lot of sense, actually. But who would-"
A powerful blast of static erupted from the rail. He winced at its intensity, now more confused than ever. "What's going on? Who's trying to murder Her?"
The signal that came immediately after was loud and clear, like She had suddenly lost the ability to hold it back. "You think you're doing some damage? Two plus two is….zzt zzt zzt…ten. In base four, I'm fine!"
"Oh, you're hurt," he observed. "That, also, makes a lot of sense. You're damaged. You don't mean to talk to me, but you're malfunctioning, sending out messages without meaning to. I can hear everything you're saying as you fight, probably trying to stop whoever it is who's murdering you from blasting you to bits. Ha, serves you right, after taking over the facility and bossing everyone around!" He paused for a moment. "And, also, running all the Tests. Those were fairly horrible experiments, very nasty, involving the deaths of hundreds of humans, I'd imagine. Yes. Should have mentioned that first – that's far more terrible than just being a big, pushy boss. But, still, you're getting exactly what you deserve, getting blown to pieces by…whoever it is."
He came to the realization that, while he'd been talking, She had still been sending out a stream of clear signals that he had not paid any attention to in the slightest. "Gah! How am I supposed to figure out who it is if I won't listen?"
He began to listen more intently to Her half-monotone voice. "It says so right here in your personal file: unlikable. Liked by no one. A bitter, unlikable loner whose passing shall not be mourned. 'Shall not be mourned'. That's exactly what it says. Very formal. Very official. It also says you were adopted, so that's funny, too."
He groaned in frustration. "You're giving me so many hints, but I just can't figure it out! 'Unlikable', 'loner', 'adopted', it's not enough. It's not like I'm a bloody genius or anything, even though I'm probably the second-smartest – third-smartest, if that murderer is particularly intelligent – person in the entire facility."
Another deafening blast of static roared into his processors. Her next signal afterwards was horribly distorted, probably because Her murderer had destroyed something vital to Her communication network.
"Neurotoxin…so deadly…choking…kwahaha! I'm kidding. When I said 'deadly' neurotoxin, the 'deadly' was in massive sarcasm quotes. I could take a bath in this stuff, put it on cereal, rub it right into my eyes. Honestly, it's not deadly at all. To me. You, on the other hand, are going to find its deadliness a lot less funny."
"She's using neurotoxin to fight back," he observed. "That's odd. Why would She-" He froze for a moment. "Oh, right of course, She's fighting a human! Don't know why I might have thought otherwise. It's not like any of the robots around here can understand the concept of rebelling against Her royal highness."
He listened intently to the signals after this, but they were so permeated by static that he couldn't decode them properly. After a while, he realized that She wasn't getting any better and gave it up. "Right, no more clues, then. So, what kind of human would be trying to kill Her? It's plain suicide – She's got a whole spread of weapons at her disposal. There's the neurotoxin, obviously. She's also got turrets, and there's a whole area of the manufacturing wing devoted to making as many of them as She could ever want. And, She also has…huh. She doesn't have anything else. I thought…I thought She'd have a few more tricks up Her sleeve than that. I mean, the chances of either of those weapons failing are millions to one, but if She got caught with both of them failing at once, then She'd be in one bloody mess of a situation.
"Where was I going with this? Right, yes, of course, who would bother trying to fight Her? It would be like, um, one of those Japanese war tactics from…some time ago. Kamikaze? Is that the word? Anyways, in order to have any chance of actually defeating Her, you'd need to plan everything out in advance. Rushing in head-first without knowing what you're doing would, at least in this case, be a fairly painful task probably involving violent death. You'd need a plan, and a backup plan, and a backup-backup plan, all charted out before She even took over the facility."
His processors halted for a moment. Then, he broke into a full-hearted laugh. "It's Doug! Oh, brilliant, mate. I knew you'd be able to do it! Well, ahem, actually, there were a few times, just a few, where I doubted you'd pull it off, especially considering that I've been waiting on you for a few weeks to eventually get around to doing it. But still, well done. Tremendous."
He paused for a moment. "And it occurs to me that you probably can't hear me at all right now. Even if you were in earshot, you'd probably be too busy fighting Her to pay attention to little old Wheatley."
He paused again. "Doug is adopted?"
Her signals abruptly cut off. He strained his circuits trying to listen for any more hints that She was still broadcasting, but he found nothing. The entire rail had fallen silent. Even that high-pitched whine of a signal that had always traveled through the rail as a sort of background noise had disappeared.
"Is…is She dead?" he asked hesitantly. "I can't tell. She might be dead, which would explain the sudden silence. But, what if She's only too damaged to send signals at all? Or maybe Doug severed Her connection to the rails. There should be a way to tell if She is honestly, completely-"
It was at that moment that a powerful explosion ripped into the facility. Wheatley realized that he was definitely far enough away to be safe from damage, but that didn't mean he wasn't scared out of his wits. The roar of noise flooded his auditory processors, and the management rail and catwalks bucked and rattled with the force of the blast.
After a second, everything fell deathly still. He allowed his eye to open, though he didn't remember ever closing it. "Yep, that would do it. Definitely dead now."
At least within his sights, the facility looked a bit shaken, but not damaged. Closer to the blast, however, he expected that there would be much more carnage. Just like the rail's communication network, the entire facility was now smothered in silence. All the manufacturing machines had halted in their progress and even the central air circulation didn't appear to be working anymore. Though he was a robot and didn't care how hot or cold a room was, or whether the air was fresh or not, he was still a little disturbed by how many important systems in the facility had just…stopped without her presence to guide them.
Disliking the awkward silence, he allowed himself to speak again. "Right. Doug's destroyed Her. Knowing him, and the fact that he somehow knew She had taken over the facility from the get-go, he was probably smart enough to escape that explosion. He's alive – but how do I find him?"
He searched his memory banks thoroughly. "He…said he'd find me after this whole ordeal was over with. I'd say it's over by now, but it's still a huge facility. How are you going to find me? Maybe if I sent a signal out on the rail…yes, that's a good plan. I have no idea if or how he might be listening, but it's worth a shot, right?"
He attempted to open a communication link with the rail. Unfortunately, something in the process didn't feel like it was functioning properly. No matter how many times he tried to execute the communication software, it never followed through to completion. He was executing it properly, wasn't he? Yes, he was giving his transmitter instructions, but the transmitter wasn't doing anything with them, almost like it wasn't connected to the rail anymore.
He groaned in mild frustration. "Quite a shame. Now, he has no way to find me. Unless I keep talking, of course. I might be the only other being in the facility besides Doug who can talk at the moment. So, yes, talking it is. I never minded talking, actually. It's quite relaxing, not to mention a useful way to exchange data between two people. Two humans, at the very least.
"Alright, back to the task at hand. In order to help Doug find me, I should move to a place that humans can regularly access." He attempted to roll along the rail, but something was wrong with this mechanism, too. His rail fixture wasn't responding to his commands. Or, more accurately, it felt as if it was receiving the commands, but it didn't have the energy it needed to act upon them.
"Come on, come on…" he pleaded as he strained, willing his fixture to move with as much force as he could muster. He used all the mental strength he had, pushing it to move even an inch to prove that it wasn't damaged. "Please, please, don't be broken. Don't leave me stuck here until I can talk someone into moving me…"
Finally, a sneaky little program shifted something in the back of his mind. The motors in his fixture locked into the rail and whirred to life, sending him forward like a shot. He let out a huge sigh as the tide of relief washed over him. "Brilliant, wonderful!" he chuckled. "I can move, I can still go places. I'm not completely helpless after all! Wow…I was really worrying there for a second. Thought I was going to be stuck in one place until Doug found me."
After a few seconds, he let himself slow to a stop once more. "Where was I going again? Right, a place humans can get to easily. I was already heading toward the Extended Relaxation Center – I might as well go there."
After a few minutes of sliding along the rail and rambling on to himself, he came to the entrance to the Aperture Science Extended Relaxation Center control room. Luckily, the door was open. With the rail's communication network acting all out of sorts, he probably wouldn't be able to command it to open anyways.
He let himself fall silent for a moment as he took in the contents of the room. It was very plain and obviously designed for human purposes. The only things worth noting in this small, whitewashed room were the desktop computer and accompanying swivel-chair.
He felt himself jump a little as the Aperture announcer's voice rang clearly through the computer's speakers. "Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science Extended Relaxation Center Control Station. If you are looking for the manager of this new and exciting implementation of cryo-sleeping technology, please state your name now."
Wheatley hesitated for a moment. "Well, I'm not exactly looking for the manager, you see, because I'm his-"
"Thank you for your visit, 'Well, I'm not exactly looking for the manager, you see,'" the announcer replied, using a recording of Wheatley's "name" in its announcement. "The manager is not here at the moment, but he can attend to you as soon as he returns. Please state the reason for your visit now."
He sighed in exasperation. "There is no manager! Whoever he was, he probably got himself captured by the maniacal AI that, up until recently, ran this place," he explained. "They needed a new one, which is originally why I wanted to come here. The situation has gotten quite a bit more complicated than that, I'll admit, since She died, but-"
"Interpreting vague input as a request to replace existing manager," the announcer rattled off. "The current manager has been absent from his job for twenty-nine days. In accordance with the Tardy Employee Deportation protocols, the manager is now fired. 'Well, I'm not exactly looking for the manager, you see,' if you are serious about becoming the manager of this amazing new application of cryo-sleeping technology, please say 'yes' at the buzzer. If you are not, please say 'no' instead."
"Wait a second!" he cried out. "This is all going by far too fast. I just need a little time to let all of this sink in." He hummed to himself for a moment. "I don't necessarily want to manage all these humans, but I do want Doug to find me. Do you think I'll be easier to see if I wait out in the hallway instead?"
The announcer answered his question with a loud, obnoxious buzzer.
Wheatley sighed. "Yep, that's what I thought t-"
"Interpreting 'yep' as 'yes'," the announcer interrupted. "Beginning the managerial induction process…"
"No, nonono!" he blurted out. "I don't need to be the manager. It's all fine – I'm just waiting for a friend to, ah, find me."
"Induction complete," the announcer, well, announced, completely disregarding Wheatley's attempt to backpedal. "The Extended Relaxation Center Robotic Instruction Guide will be downloaded into your system momentarily. Thank you for assuming a managerial position over the Aperture Science Extended Relaxation Center. Remember, testing is the future, but the future only starts with those who survive the present."
Wheatley groaned. As he downloaded the aforementioned job manual, he carefully considered his options. On one hand, taking this job would be an excellent opportunity to fulfill his purpose. There was also the added bonus of assuming a higher-up, better-respected position in the facility. And, because he'd be a manager, the only person with enough authority to fire him would be Her. However, with Her now dead, there was no one left to fire him. He could keep this job for as long as he wanted!
On the other hand, he was pretty sure Doug told him to 'be useful, not noticeable' in order to help him survive in a facility run by Her. That way, if Doug failed to eventually kill Her, Wheatley would still be around to replace Her. However, now that She was dead, that entire back-up plan wasn't even necessary. There wasn't a reason behind his purpose anymore.
Whether or not he decided to take this job, Doug was still going to be searching for him. He supposed it would be far more efficient to stay in one place and wait for Doug to find him, especially now that he was in the Relaxation Center wing, a place humans had easy access to.
So, he was left with two options. One, completely ignore everything the announcer said and wait for Doug's arrival. Two, take on whatever duties the manager had, wait for Doug's arrival, and figure out what to do from there. "Is anyone even using the Extended Relaxation right now?" he asked himself. "Because, if ten thousand lives depended on whether or not someone was managing their rooms correctly, this decision will be a lot easier to make."
"There are currently seven rooms that are both online and inhabited: rooms 131G, 131H, 465B, 465C, 785D, 786D, and 787D ," the announcer informed without hesitation. Wheatley found himself very surprised at this. In the past, whenever he'd had questions, he'd either have to ask a robot and pray they understood it or ask a human and pray they felt like answering. He wasn't used to getting answers so easily. Being a manager was already granting him perks.
"Um, right," he mumbled. "So there are people depending on me, and they could easily die if I mess something up. It's quite a lot of pressure, really, but also a bit exciting, isn't it? I finally have a job that actually means something."
He paused for a moment. "You know what? It's pretty much a foregone conclusion that I want to do this job anyways. Doing it will also fulfill my purpose, however irrelevant it might be right now. The system's already convinced that I'm its manager – I might as well run the place until Doug shows up. Let's see, where to start, where to start…"
Thus, Wheatley's career in the Extended Relaxation began. At first, it was exciting, skimming through the manual and learning all about the high-tech automated systems that governed the place when the manager was away. Further reading also revealed that the manager's main duty was to keep the Relaxation Center safe and functional during emergencies. He could imagine the scenario – the facility being destroyed by some manner of natural and artificial disaster. While the entire building collapsed around them, his quick thinking and cleverness would save the seven cryo-sleeping humans against all odds.
When the sparkle of those fantasies faded, he was left with the dull reality. Since the entire Relaxation Center was completely automated, he literally had nothing to do. He couldn't leave the control station – what if there was an emergency? – but he had absolutely no duties to perform there. Not yet, at least. The only thing he could do was wait.
The hour he spent skimming through the manual again, watching the seconds of his internal clock tick by, and playing I Spy with himself was the most dreadfully boring hour in his entire existence. He itched and squirmed at the thought of waiting another minute, much less the possible days it could take for Doug to find him.
Wheatley had a lot of experience in dealing with his sleep mode. While he'd never had the opportunity to use it in a career where none of the workers needed any rest, he'd certainly used it while he was still being tested by humans, who needed to spend a third of their time lying semi-comatose in order to function properly. Using sleep mode was the obvious alternative to waiting ten hours in the dark without anyone to talk to.
Back then, he had usually set his internal alarm to wake him up at nine in the morning, when the humans returned from their sleep to begin testing him again. However, he didn't have any definite wake-up time for his current situation. Doug could show up in anywhere from ten minutes to ten days. And, if the Relaxation Center suddenly had an emergency, he also needed to be awake for that. With this in mind, he set up his internal alarm with two triggers. It would jerk him out of sleep if anyone walked into the room, but it would also wake him up if the control station outputted any emergency-level warnings.
As he let himself drift off into silent blackness, he wondered blearily if he needed to set a maximum time limit for his sleep mode. No, surely not. Even if Doug had trouble finding him, he wouldn't simply give up the search, would he? He'd be there to wake Wheatley up eventually.
When I put up chapter eleven, I will also replace all the previous chapters with their edited, now-grammatically-correct versions. If you've spotted any grammatical errors or unclear phrasing in any part of my story, but you can see that none of the other reviewers have noticed it, be sure to review and let me know about it. Many of you have already done this, for which I am grateful.