Chapter Thirteen
The Apology
Chell steeled herself as the elevator door opened. Facing him again might be the most difficult thing she could do. As far as she was concerned, this was his final chance to redeem himself. Chell and GLaDOS had come up with a plan inspired by a poster they had found in Old Aperture. Paradoxes. No AI could resist thinking about them, GLaDOS had said. All they had to do was go up there and GLaDOS would do the rest.
Tentatively, she walked up the stairs. The door at the top swiveled open and she found herself outside a testing chamber, a very irritated voice exclaiming from inside, "For God's sake! You're boxes with legs! It- it's literally your only purpose: walking onto buttons! How can you not do the one thing you're designed for?"
His voice sent a contradictory leap of hope and fear through Chell. She looked out the window of one of the observation rooms over the testing chamber and almost laughed. Wheatley was on a giant screen, peering out over the testing chamber which was filled with strange objects, hopping along on three spindly legs. His glorious creation: turret-box hybrids. They were clumsy, often knocking themselves over, unable to get up, pulling themselves forward awkwardly like crabs whose shells dragged along behind them. They were also just a little bit pathetic. Chell could hear them coughing and wheezing, even from her perch behind the filmed glass.
Even so, it was a tiny bit amusing. Wheatley's frankenturrets were so like him, such a hopelessly bad idea, she couldn't help finding the whole scene just a little bit funny.
"Try to get us down there. I'll hit him with a paradox," GLaDOS instructed and Chell nodded, tearing herself from the window and portaling down to a catwalk. The compilation of the testing chambers had changed dramatically, she realized. Once, they had been orderly, cleanly connected and difficult to infiltrate. Now they were separated, some half complete, roughly grouped together. Chell could see straight into the test chamber from a split between the walls.
A strange twinge hit her when Wheatley talked and she grappled inwardly with herself as an open lift took her another level of catwalk. Chell hoped with all her heart that Wheatley would change his mind when he saw her. He would remember himself, remember all they had done, apologize, and send her to the surface. That would be the ideal solution.
However, she was equally prepared to go with the plan. It pained her to do this to him. She knew that the paradox would most likely short circuit every fuse in his new body, but she had to put that part of her that still cared behind her if she wanted to survive. If this was her only chance, she would take it.
She could hear Wheatley goading the frankenturrets on as she got closer to the room. Finally, he exclaimed, "You've got one hour. Solve it!" and his gigantic form disappeared from the screen. Chell entered the room and stood among the pathetic, hopping turret-boxes.
"Solve his puzzle for him," GLaDOS said. "When he comes back, I'll hit him with a paradox." Chell nodded, although she was feeling more nervous every second. She picked up a frankenturret, which retracted its legs and stared at her, trembling. She gave it a wry smile – you and me both – and placed it on the button.
Immediately, Wheatley was back, blocking the exit door with a blue shield-panel. "Yes! I knew you'd solve it!"
This was it, Chell thought. His last chance. Please, please make him remember me. Let him see.
"Hey, moron," called GLaDOS.
"Oh." Wheatley's voice was flat. His optic flicked over Chell and the potato with something like disappointment. "Hello."
Chell's heart sank right down to her Long-Fall Boots. When GLaDOS whispered, "Alright, paradox time," Chell did not stop Her.
"This… sentence… is… false!" GLaDOS said slowly, immediately whispering to Herself afterward, "Don't think about it, don't think about it."
There was a collective spritz of static as every frankenturret in the room short-circuited. Chell watched Wheatley apprehensively for a reaction. He did not exhibit even a trace of discomfort, but nodded as if thinking. "Ehmm… true. I'll go with true," he answered at last. "Heh. That was easy. I'll be honest, I may have heard that one before, though. So, sort of cheating."
"It's a paradox!" GLaDOS exclaimed, outraged. "There is no answer! Look! This place is going to blow up if I don't get back in my body!"
"Ahh… false," answered Wheatley. "I'll go with false."
"Explosion imminent," blared the automated announcer from the screen's microphone, and the room shook with a deadly tremor. "Evacuate the facility immediately."
"Hold on," Wheatley said, dipping to the side for a moment. "I thought I'd fixed that." The announcer's voice shorted out. "There, fixed." He loomed in front of them again.
"Hey, it is great seeing you guys again, seriously," Wheatley continued. "Ah, it turns out, I'm a little bit short on test subjects right now, so this works out perfect! Aaaand off we go!"
He unblocked the door and Chell, with a backwards glare at the screen, exited swiftly.
"You have no idea what it's like in this body," Wheatley said conversationally as she walked to the next chamber. "I have to test all the time or I get this… this itch! You know, it must be hardwired into the system or something. Ohh, but I tell ya, when I do test…" his voice turned dreamy. "Oh, ho! Man alive! Nothing feels better. It's just… it's just why I've gotta test – It's why I've gotta test."
"Uh-oh," GLaDOS muttered.
"So, you're going to test, and I'm going to watch," Wheatley said. "And everything is going to be just… fine."
"Warning, core overheating," interrupted the announcer. "Nuclear meltdown-"
"SHUT UP!" roared Wheatley.
"I think we're in trouble," GLaDOS mentioned.
()-()
"What do you mean she's given up?" cried Wheatley, peering through the glass at the prone figure below. "Chell never, ever gives up! It- it's not in her… her programming, I would say if she was, you know, a robot. But… it… it's Chell! It's just not possible! Chell? Chell, can you hear me?" He raised his voice, shouting through the microphone. "What do you think you're doing, lu- sorry, sorry, not luv. Just… come on, get up!"
The microphone squealed as Rattmann covered it with his hand. "Stop talking," he told him. "It won't help."
"Then what will help?" Wheatley demanded. "Come on, tell me. We need to help her! She won't be pleased if She comes back and sees Chell lying there! She'll start pumping in neurotoxin, next, if we don't get a move on!"
"I need to get down there," Rattmann said decidedly, rising from his chair, setting it spinning. He headed for the back wall and ripped aside a panel. "Maybe I can hack into one or two of the panels beside her, find a way down. Keep an eye out for GLaDOS."
"Ah, alright. Will do," said Wheatley. "But if there's anything I can…"
"No need! Nothing!" called Rattmann, head and shoulders now buried behind the wall. "Just stay there, keep lookout."
"Right," said Wheatley. "Keep lookout. I can… I can do that."
Rattmann made a sound like a snarl as the wires surrounding him fizzled and sparked. He drew back, his agitated voice announcing, "She's safety locked the room!"
"What does that mean?"
"It means that make one wrong move, She'll launch the security defenses against us!" Rattmann's eyes were wild yet again.
"Ok, ok, alright, calm down," Wheatley soothed frantically. "Um… just… I dunno… work carefully, then?"
"Well, gee, I wouldn't have thought of that," spat Rattmann, delving back into the sparking mass of wires. "I need to concentrate."
Wheatley turned back to the glass window. If he had had a heart, it would have been snapping to pieces. The old, dim, human memories in his mind remembered a long, long time ago when the little girl Chell was in a test chamber like this, and the room was slowly filling with neurotoxin. She had kept going. Why had this Chell stopped?
"Chell? I… I don't know how much you heard, but… um… we're having some technical difficulties in getting down to you. It would make it much easier on the both of us if you would just get to the door and solve this test. Preferably before She finds a way to hack back in. Would you do that? Would you just go on up there? Could you do that? Oh, come on, you can do it! It's not that hard." He looked optimistically up at the spiky structure. "I mean, nothing you haven't done before. Just a lot bigger, and… and smashier… and, um, and…"
"Stop talking," Rattmann called.
Chell curled in on herself a little more. Just leave me alone. For a moment, all that could be heard were the crushers, and Chell began to suspect that the microphone had turned off. She closed her eyes and let the darkness surround her.
"I…"
The word was spoken so softly that Chell could hardly hear it.
"I am… a moron."
Chell's eyes opened again and her brows clenched. Did he really just say…?
"Oh, come on, really? You want me to say it again? Alright, here it goes again! I am… sorry, just hard to say. I am… a moron. I am a moron. There, said it three times, you happy?"
His irritation smoldered and then went out and Wheatley let out a sound like a sigh. "I might as well admit it to myself. I never liked to think about it, really. Being… well, you know. But it's true. It really is true. Don't like it – hate it, actually, but I might as well admit that."
Chell twitched.
"Do you know how I figured it out? I'll tell you how: I figured it out because only a moron would have done what I did. We were going to escape together, you and me. Both of us, up to the surface. And- and then… I dunno. I started thinking, 'hold on a bit, why do I have to give this up?' Now why? Why would I do that?"
Chell rolled over, unclenching just a little, turning her head to look at the fogged glass up above where she could just barely make out the dark blot that was Wheatley.
"I told you that I had done everything." Wheatley's voice echoed through the chamber. It was almost like when he was testing her, except then it had been loud and imposing. This time it was soft and timid, hesitating with each word. "I called you selfish, even though the selfish one was me. It was me, I see that now. Who was the one that sent the lift straight down? Me, 'cause I couldn't keep my bloody temper! Who sent you back to testing once you came back up? Me."
Rattmann extricated himself from the machinery tangle and stared at Wheatley, both elbows resting on Cube. Wheatley didn't even notice. His eye was locked on Chell, who had just slowly sat up. He was speaking for her, and to her alone.
"You didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve any of it. I used you. Every single test I put you through was to make me feel good. And it did, it seriously did, but- but it made you feel horrible! I realize that, now! I know," he added with a laugh. "Great time for me to figure that out, right?"
He gave a forlorn chuckle that dissipated quickly. "Anyway… you were so small, so far below me, and I just thought… I thought it meant that you didn't matter. But I was the small one before, and you never did half the things I did to you! I tested you, and I called you names, and I shouted at you when you didn't do anything. And- and then… and then I tried to kill you."
His voice died, then resumed. "I tried really, really hard to kill you. Death traps, death options. There were some death traps that you didn't even notice, that's how hard I tried! And I never thought, even for a second, that I was doing something wrong. Ha-ha! No, it's- it's not really funny. At all, really."
Chell was sitting upright by this point, her eyes fixed on the shadow behind the glass. She followed its every nod and movement, becoming warm again despite the cold of the floor. She could feel her heart softening with every self-punishing, tangled word that came from the speaker above.
"And then you sent me to space," continued Wheatley. "With the Space Core, of course. And you were hanging onto my handles… for dear life… and I told you to let go." Now his voice was so fragile she thought it would break. "Even then, I didn't even think… that…" It crumbled, strengthened a little. "And then – and this is even worse – I told you to hang on. I… I thought that since you and Her were… comrades? Buddies? I don't know what I thought. But maybe, maybe She would spare us both – me; She would spare me – if you dragged us in.
"When you let go, and I was in space, I was so angry for the longest time! First I was panicked, you know, 'cause I was in space, and then I was angry. All the 'she threw bombs at me' and 'I can't believe she sent me to space' and all that. I was raving for… days! Long, long time. And then… I don't know. It's like I woke up. Just woke up and remembered everything the way it had been, before the Itch, and before… before I tried to kill you. And I thought I was sorry, then, but I really wasn't. Doug Rattmann here helped me to see that." He gave a nod towards Rattmann, even though he was still mostly oblivious to his presence.
"I wasn't sorry because of what I did. I was sorry because I was the one stuck in space. I was the one who tried to kill you. I was the one who lost it when She was calling him a moron. See? See the pattern here? Don't blame you if you don't, because I couldn't see it. But I was sorry for me, see? All because I had done something wrong and couldn't change it. I… it never even occurred to me to be sorry… for your sake."
There was a pause. No movement. Chell didn't even blink.
"You were the one down there," Wheatley said. "Down there in the dark. I don't know when you had last had food. You didn't when I was with you. No water, either. I never even offered it to you when we were escaping. You came back up and I didn't let you rest. And all that time you were glaring at me and breaking my monitors, all I could think was, 'why isn't she testing harder? She- she's doing this on purpose', not even thinking, not even considering that we… had been friends. And I had betrayed you."
He couldn't tell what she was thinking or what she would do next. All he could do was keep talking, see this through to the very end.
"So," he said, "I… I just wanted to say… I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness, because I don't – I really don't deserve it. So I'm not even going to ask. I'm just going to say… I'm sorry. As sorry as I can be, not for my sake. This doesn't have to do with anything I've done, but it does have to do with what I did… to you. That's- that's what I'm apologizing for. And I know you hate me for what I did. You wish I would just… I dunno… turn into instant scrap metal, probably. Put me in a potato if you could. But- but I just wanted you to know, just hoping that this makes it a little bit better – not trying to cover anything up or anything! No, nothing like that. I know that won't work – but…"
Chell held her breath.
"I am deeply, completely, utterly… is there anything else ending with 'ly'? No? Alright then, stick with those and anything else that comes to mind; ooh, here's another one: truly. So very, very truly sorry. For what I did to you. All of that and... I'm just… sorry, Chell."
He was done. This was what he had wanted to do. To express his sincerity with every ounce of effort possible. He was not expecting anything back, and he would not blame her if she just turned around and flopped back on the ground. Oh, wait. That was another thing.
"And I know you can do this," he added. "If- if you think you failed to save the humans… it wasn't your fault, you know. Not any of our faults. But… if you do think that all the humans are gone… there's one left. Doug Rattmann."
Rattmann jumped a little.
"Doug Rattmann's still up here, and he's waiting for you to escape with him. To help him escape. Because… because we're nothing without you, Chell! If he's, like, the experience of this operation, and I'm the… the mouth, I guess. I do a lot of gabbing, honestly. Then- then you're the 'up and at 'em'. You're the drive that keeps us going! And sure, this test is difficult, but we're with you. Watching. We're watching for you to succeed, because you're a genius, luv. An absolute bloody genius."
Wheatley stopped. There was nothing more he could say. If Chell noticed his use of the word 'luv', she didn't try to correct him. He watched as her head slowly turned to look at the spiky test tower, scanning it up and down.
Wheatley was suddenly gripped by doubt. He had just taken advantage of her again! She didn't want to hear his apology – she had as good as told him many times – and as soon as she was conked out on the floor with no escape and no Sleep Button, what does he do? Just takes advantage of the situation and blurts out what she doesn't want to hear!
Oh, he really was a moron.
But Chell got up from the floor, the grip on her Portal Device easy. Strategically, she used the Repulsion Gel on the flat surfaces, coating them all. She studied the timing of the crushers. It would be tricky, but she could make it. Possibly. It was worth a try, anyway.
But there was one more thing to do before she ran. She looked up at the faded glass, her mind carefully processing just how to express what she felt. The dark circle seemed to be watching attentively, the shadow of Rattmann right behind him.
Chell's smile was for Wheatley. Just Wheatley, not any aspect he had once assumed. Ley had, for the moment, left her mind. Her expression was calm and collected and utterly forgiving.
"Apple."
And then, before he could say anything in response, Chell ran for the tower. She knew the timing had to be just right, or else the crushers would have her. She needed to jump at just the right time or else she would fall on the spikes. There were a million things that might go wrong, but she was determined not to think about them. She would only think about what was right, and just maybe it would work.
Chell leaped on a patch of the blue Repulsion Gel and it tightened, the surface constricting like a trampoline, flinging her upwards. She put her shoulder to the flat surface on the wall that she had coated, and it bounced her again, knocking her against the blue surface on the opposite side. She bounced onwards, ever upwards, absorbing the impact with her arms only, a crusher narrowly missing her every second.
Then there were no more surfaces. Chell hovered for a split second, her hang-time keeping her aloft. And then she plunged downwards toward the blue gel covered portal surface below. She raised her portal gun, aiming at that one white point high above. Orange light sped from the end of the gun and she could vaguely hear the sound of the shot striking true. Twisting, trying to ignore the crusher hot on her heels, Chell shot at the swiftly approaching ground. A blue portal opened before her just before she landed. Chell shot through, the ring of noise in her ears as the crushers pursued.
Only a little farther, she thought, glimpsing the top for the first time.
But she fell again, and this time the crushers were even closer. There was a long way to fall down the newest spike-lined hole. She shot another portal beneath her, curling up into a cannon ball, hurtling towards that blue speck in the distance. The crusher behind her clanged and she kicked off its surface to give herself greater momentum. For a second, she thought she would not make it to the portal, but then…
She flew.
Chell tucked herself in, spinning through the air, the floor and ceiling blending into one strange, psychotic blur. Would she live? Would she die? This could be the moment, after all this time, that the tests finally beat her.
But no.
She landed, feet solidly on the ground, next to the door. The portal surface behind the corner was tilted slightly, Rattmann's escape route.
The invisible speaker screamed loudly, the voices of Wheatley and Rattmann lifted up with joyous exaltation, indiscernible words mixed with laughter, and Chell could not stop smiling. She bowed for the camera, through which Rattmann and Wheatley were most assuredly watching.
"Alright, now, Chell," Rattmann's voice came over, still trembling with exhilaration, "go through that panel. I've opened up a way that will take you straight to GLaDOS. Wheatley and I will come up with a plan. We'll help you once you get there."
Chell raised her finger to signal 'wait'. She shot a portal right beside her and one down below. Quickly nipping through, she grabbed the cube and brought it back through with her. She set it on the button, nodded as if pleased as the door hissed open, then vanished behind the dislocated panel.
A final message for GLaDOS: the games were on her terms, now.
()-()
Doug found Ley wandering the corridors, head down, mumbling to himself. His face was a pale, greenish color and his feet shuffled forward automatically, devoid of conscious planning. Doug smiled in a way that only just twitched the corners of his mouth and put a hand on Ley's shoulder. Even through the material of the shirt he was wearing, and the lab coat over it, Doug could feel the heat of Ley's skin.
"Hey," Doug offered.
Ley started, strained a grin. "Hi! Hello, yes. Hello. Hi."
"You nervous?"
"Me? No! Of course not. Who? Me? No!" Ley's words fell with the consistency of raindrops. "Not bad, not bad at all, really. No, why would you think that? Erm… how are you?"
Doug clapped Ley on the shoulder and began to guide him in the right direction. "Stephen, has anybody told you that you are a rotten liar?"
"Um… yes. Maybe. That might have come up in conversation once or twice." Ley choked out a chuckle, his hands twisting his tie.
"You got lost, didn't you?"
"Lost? No, no, I'm not- not lost. Just… stopped here to… to get my bearings." Ley looked around for the first time. "On a completely unrelated note… where are we?"
"Marketing department."
"Right! Right. I knew that. Lovely place. Lots of lovely people and… plants. Lots of plastic plants. On the ground. Everywhere." Ley waved a hand vaguely at a plastic fern that stood in the hallway. Doug nodded consolingly and they continued along the corridor.
"I tried to see Chell again today," Ley started.
His hands were everywhere, plucking at his tie, plunging into his pockets, then being withdrawn again to mop at his brow. Doug had a very strong sudden urge to slap them down to his sides, but he resisted. Instead, he asked, "And how did that go?"
"Not well," Ley admitted gloomily. "She's home, now. Down in the worker's complex they have down here. Did you know that they had one of those? Whole houses, rooms and rooms of people who are on call. Places for them, for their families. Oh, it was incredible. Um, sorry, where was I?"
"Chell was home," Doug reminded him.
"Oh, yes. Chell. Well, I went to the hospital and they told me that she had been sent back to where she lived at the… at the worker's complex, which I just… just went through. Anyway." Ley clapped his hands and swung them at his sides before making another excavation in his pockets. "I didn't get to see her, exactly. I tried, I went right up and knocked on the door, but do you know who answered?"
"Craig?" guessed Doug.
"Nope. Not- not him. Not Doctor Freeman. His wife, actually. Chell's mum. Yeah. She opened the door, I said I wanted to see Chell, she said that Chell still knocked out. Resting, that's the word she used, resting. So, didn't let me in." Ley slumped a little bit, allowing Doug enough time to move a few steps ahead. Ley quickly regained the space, however. His legs were far longer than Doug's, and Doug could hardly keep up when the man was walking, even at a normal pace.
"What did you do then?" prompted Doug, partially to keep Ley calm and his mind off the upcoming process, but also because he truly was interested.
"Well," sighed Ley, madly ruffling his hair, "I asked if she would take Chell a message. 'Tried to see you, couldn't,' and so forth. I- I didn't tell her about the… the transfer or anything. Just told her mum that medicine would be on the way for Chell soon, and ran off. Do- do you think I did the right thing?"
Doug shrugged. "I honestly don't know."
"I hope she'll be alright," said Ley. He looked over at Doug, a small crease between his eyebrows. "Could- could you promise me that? Keep Chell safe?"
"Sure." Doug kept walking, but Ley grabbed his arm.
"No no no," he said, dragging Doug to a halt. "I mean it seriously. All those scientists keep talking about Her, and if there is any chance that this… that this… doesn't work…" He faltered, then continued. "…If there is any chance of that, then Chell could be in danger. Anything might happen, and I just want…" He dropped Doug's arm and whispered, "I just want her safe. That's all."
Doug gripped Ley's arm. "I'll watch over Chell," he promised. "I'll make sure she stays safe."
Ley relaxed just a tad and grinned. "Thanks mate," he said. "Tha- that's a real load off my chest." He sighed shakily. "Now let's get this over with, hey?"
Doug and Ley walked the rest of the way to the Robotics Department. Except for those semi-rare times when Ley piped up with a comment, the journey was quiet. Ley faltered a little when the lab loomed before him, and his face – which had been resuming its natural color – greened again. He stumbled to a stop, staring up at the words 'Robotics Lab: this is a lab coat zone' written in yellow letters above the door.
"Deep breaths," advised Doug.
Ley gasped in little puffs, his hand groping for the wall. "I can't- I can't do this," he moaned.
"You can," Doug said. "For Chell."
Ley nodded several times very quickly, his glasses nearly falling off his nose. "Right. For Chell. I can do it for… but… just… just give me a minute."
"Doctor Ley!" Henry beamed, spotting the two men in the doorway and coming over to pump Ley's clammy hand. "We were beginning to think you weren't coming! Thank you for finding him, Doug!"
"He was wandering the marketing department," said Doug, still keeping anxious eyes on Ley, prepared to lunge forward should he faint.
"Ah, nervous, then?" Henry asked sympathetically. "Well, come on in and we'll get you a chair."
"Thanks, that's nice, that. That's very, very decent of you," prattled Ley, his legs reluctantly staggering him forward.
The room in which the procedure was to take place was a large one, shaped like a square, with several large monitors hooked up to the walls. Gurneys of sterilized equipment were scattered throughout the room, and scientists wearing white lab coats bustled everywhere. Ley stumbled through the mass like a man condemned, muttering, "Sorry," automatically whenever somebody bumped into him.
Henry and Ley came to the center of the room, where a large, metal chair that looked rather like a dentist's chair was bolted to the floor. Henry dropped Ley's arm, which he had been using as a handle all this time to pull him along, and raised his hands. "Everyone," he called, and the bustle ceased. "This is Doctor Ley. He will be helping us today with the creation of a very important personality core. Would all of you give him a hand for being so brave?"
The room was filled with clapping and cheering, and Ley stood in the thick of it, a very sickly grin stretched across his pallid face.
"Now, have a seat, Doctor Ley." Henry's helpful hands guided him down into the seat.
"Wait, now?!" Ley exclaimed, half jumping up again. He didn't even have a chance to repeat his name! How would he remember if they started so unexpectedly? "But… wait a tic, maybe I'm not ready! I- I just 'm not sure about… well, what I want to say is…"
"Now hold on," Henry smiled reassuringly. "Who said we're starting now? Transmitting the brain's processes into digital code will take some time. We still need to warm up all the equipment and get everything ready. You have plenty of time to compose yourself and to relax."
"Plenty of time. Right." Ley calmed down just a smidge and his hands gripped the armrests on the chair with a slightly less constricting grip. "Sorry, I'm just… just nervous, I guess. That's all this is. Just nerves. That's- that's all it is. Just that."
"I understand," said Henry. His voice was as soothing as honey. "And I'm sorry to ask you this, but is it alright if we put this cranial receptor cap on you? Just to make sure it's working."
"That? Ha, sure. Knock yourself out, mate."
My name is Ley, he thought, just for practice. My name is Ley.
The scientists came forward and fitted a webbed cap over his head, each connecting point of the web covered with sensory receptors. The cap was turned on with a flick of the switch and the receptors began to glow red.
"So?" Ley turned to Doug. "How do I look?"
"Like a red-lit disco ball," answered Doug, standing to the side with his arms crossed.
Ley laughed, snorting. "Disco ball," he chortled. "That's hilarious."
Then the scientists drew up a gurney beside the table and he abruptly stopped laughing. It held a sleek metal ball, lids closed, handles inert. A core. Ley felt a chill – oh, so that's what it meant when you felt like someone was walking on your grave! – and turned to Henry, panicking just a little. "Hey, hey, wait a mo! You're not starting it now, are you?"
My name is Ley. My name is Ley.
"No, we are not." Henry's smile was very strained. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up the politeness act. "We're just getting things set up."
"You'll tell me, right? Before you begin, you'll tell me, right?"
"Of course," Henry promised, and turned back to his equipment. The core was hooked up to one side of a short, square machine, and Ley to the other. Ley was starting to squirm.
"Here," said one of the female scientists, wheeling over a screen and tilting it towards him.
"What's this, then?"
"We just want to do some routine adjustments on the cranial receptor, just to make sure it's working properly. A few simple tests. Just answer the questions on the screen out loud, and we'll read the signals over there." She pointed towards a computer station in the corner.
"Oh, is that all it is? Oh, um, alright, then, I suppose. Fine by me."
She smiled again, her lips pinched closed, and walked away. Ley glanced at the screen, which flickered to life, displaying in blocky black text against a white screen: What would you do to make the Science Enrichment Facility a better place?
"Oh, well, how should I answer that?" Ley mused. "Um… tea instead of coffee, I guess. Yes. That would definitely be the first line of business if I was in charge here. Because the coffee here tastes terrible."
What kind of fruit do you like best?
"Um… apples, I suppose. Apples are nice… and crunchy."
"What's that about?" whispered Doug to Henry.
"We need an intelligence dampening sphere," said Henry quietly, adjusting a few knobs and switches, keeping his eyes fixed on Ley. "If we keep him answering questions badly, make him feel stupid, maybe the core will be stupid enough to take on GLaDOS."
Doug tensed. "You're starting the procedure now?"
What product is most used when making bread?
"Uh… what's that called?" Ley muttered to himself, flicking his eyes upward in concentration.
My name is Ley.
"We will be starting," Henry said, "in three… two…"
"Wheat! That's what I was thinking of. Wheat!"
My name is Ley.
"One."
Doug hissed in a gasp through his teeth and whirled around as the switch was pulled. An electrical current shot through the wires, setting the receptors sparking like fireworks. Ley gave a yell of surprise and pain, his back arching, head pinned against the headrest. The lights flickered.
Wheat.
My name is Ley.
Wheat.
"Increasing power to thirty-five percent," called a scientist from the other side of the room.
"Heart beat level rising rapidly," shouted another.
"Brain activity transmitting! Twenty-two percent!"
Ley screamed again, his body jerking to and fro as electricity crackled through the system. His glasses fell and shattered on the floor.
My name is Ley.
My name is Ley.
Wheat.
"You're killing him," hissed Doug, eyes locked on that writhing figure.
"That's the idea," said Henry. "Turn the power up higher!"
"Sixty percent, sir! We can't go any further!"
"Brain activity transmitting, fifty percent!"
"This one is transmitting better," Henry mentioned, the flickering lights making him look more like a mad scientist than ever. "Caroline only got to thirty percent."
Wheat.
Ley.
"Fifty-five percent!"
"Sir, his heart's going to burst!"
"Switch it off!" Henry walked out from behind his desk, waving his arms. "That's all we can do for this one. Switch it off!"
The whirr of the generator died down and the lights came back online. The flickering subsided. "Unplug them," commanded Henry, and several scientists obeyed. Doug took Ley's limp arm and dug his fingers into his wrist. "Dead?" asked Henry.
Doug nodded, tucking the arm next to the body. "Dead," he confirmed.
Henry gave a sharp nod and turned to the corner. "Jenny, how's the core coming?"
"Almost there, sir!" Jenny called back. "Downloading custom protocols and transmitting provided former brain activity."
"Take the body away," Henry waved. "Keep it in cryogenic storage, just in case. What's the matter, Doug?"
Doug turned away from the rolling table, Ley's body stretched out on top. He smiled, although he really didn't feel like smiling. "Nothing, sir," he lied. "I just hope this works."
"Well," sighed Henry, striding toward the metal sphere, "we'll find out soon. Jenny?"
"It's all ready, sir!"
"Start 'er up."
Jenny pushed a button on her computer and there was a crackle of electricity. "Beginning activation sequence," she said. "Our new personality core should be online in three… two… one…"
The sphere twitched and every scientist in the room held his breath. Its optic blinked open, displaying a field of black. Then, within a second, the center shimmered into blue. The new core gave out a groan, like someone just waking up in the morning with a crick in their neck.
"Stephen?" Doug prompted, his voice quiet.
"Oh, argh," moaned the core. "Something really, really hurts."
"Pain simulation test online," Jenny called from across the room. "Turning pain simulation to neutral."
"Oh, oh that's much better," said the core. He looked around the room, his optic flicking from one human face to the next. "Hello!" he greeted them all, his lower lid coming up, handles flexing welcomingly.
"Stephen?" repeated Doug.
"What? Who, me?" the core asked with a laugh. "No, I think you've got the wrong guy, mate. I- I'm not Stephen."
"Who are you, then?" Doug demanded. Henry put a restraining hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"I… I…"
The core faltered, his first smile – if you could call it a smile when you had only an optic and handles – dying. But it resumed, becoming even brighter as he said, "Sorry, forgot for a second. Hello, I'm Wheatley!"
"Wheatley?" exclaimed Doug, startled.
"Yep. That's me. I'm Wheatley." Wheatley said his newfound name proudly, nodding.
"He's the one," Henry said, smiling. "Jenny, shut him down. We're done for right now."
"Wait a minute, what do you mean—?" Wheatley's optic went dark and he froze on the table, plunged into inactivity.
Doug stared at Ley. Wheatley. He wasn't sure what to call him, now. They shared the same voice, the same mannerisms, even. This process was even more terrible than he had expected.
The scientists began to leave the room, but Henry grabbed Doug's arm. "I want you to erase any and all of the core's remaining human memories," he said.
"What?" Doug turned to him, startled anew. "Why?"
"Do you know what would happen if it could re-access those memories?" Henry asked. "It could tear the core apart! There are a million things that could go wrong! We need this core whole and thinking on our lines if we want to use him to control GLaDOS. Besides, if Black Mesa heard him talking about his previous life…" Henry's face darkened. "Sometimes I want to punch Black Mesa right in the—"
He muttered for a minute, face angry, then looked back up at Doug, softening a bit. "Turn the lights off when you're done," he said. He clapped Doug on the shoulder. "We did good today, Doug."
Henry left the room, leaving Doug alone with the inactive robot. Doug stared at it, a creeping feeling slithering up his spine. He bit his lip, going over to the computer and rapidly finding the memories file. Carefully, he separated the bits pertaining to Wheatley's previous mortality. Just as carefully, he created a folder and put them in, burying them as deep down as possible, locking the folder with a password.
Doug sighed and rose from the chair, picking up Ley's broken glasses. He put them beside the core, brushing a hand over Wheatley's smooth metal as he left. "Rest in peace, Stephen," he whispered.
Then he left.
()-()
"She talked to me," Wheatley hummed, made giddy with one simple word. "She actually talked to me! Right here, in the facility, right out loud! And- and she didn't even know, she didn't know that I know, that… oh, it's just too brilliant!" He twirled on his management rail. "She forgave me for me! Not because I used to be Stephen Ley or anything like that. No, I just said I was sorry, and she forgave me. I'm a forgiven core, mate!" He laughed right out loud, feeling as if the world was all sunshine and flowers.
"Congratulations," Rattmann said dully, slowly revolving in his chair. "Now, all we need to figure out is how to get her past GLaDOS and get us out of here."
"Oh, right," said Wheatley, his good mood effectively smothered. "Right, we have to come up with a plan and everything. Um… have any ideas?"
"Best to start with our assets," said Rattmann, sitting up straighter and counting on one hand. "First we have Chell heading straight toward GLaDOS armed with only a portal gun. Next, we have me with this." He held up the black portal gun, which he had attached to his belt. "Third, we have you, Stephen."
"Um, ok," Wheatley squinted. "Just… just want to say this out loud, but I really would prefer if you'd call me Wheatley? Alright? Just- just Wheatley."
"But you know, now," said Rattmann, looking up at Wheatley's dangling form.
"I know, I do know, now," said Wheatley, "but I… well, I've been Wheatley for so long now. Much, much longer than I've been Stephen Ley. I don't even know for how long, that's how long it's been. I've got so many memories of being Wheatley, so, just… could you call me Wheatley, please? That- that'd be my preference, if I'm honest. Just Wheatley."
Rattmann nodded slowly. "Wheatley," he said. "If that's what you want, I'll call you Wheatley."
"Thanks," said Wheatley. "And it's not that I don't like you calling me Stephen all the time, it's just… weird. That's it. Kind of strange, I guess, calling me that."
Rattmann shrugged. "Back to the task at hand."
"Right. Sorry, got distracted. Go on. What's the plan?"
"I don't have one yet," Rattmann admitted. "All I've figured out is that, if I'm going to help Chell, I need to hack into the room where GLaDOS is. To do that, I need to get closer. There's a security station nearby that I might be able to use. Not sure what I'll do once I get there, though." He chewed on a dirty fingernail.
"Well, we've got a portal gun," Wheatley pointed out. "Not that that'll be much help, not when you're up in the security station and I can't use it."
"True."
"What about that other place of yours? The one we were just in? Anything else useful in there?"
Rattmann sighed. "Just the monitors, security equipment. That and…"
He stopped, a remarkable thought just coming to his mind. Wheatley saw him stiffen and began to edge away, wondering if he was going into one of his fits again. "Alright, take it easy…"
"But what if…" Rattmann whispered, only just letting himself dare to hope. "What if…"
He stood and began to pace, gnawing on his knuckle. Wheatley watched him anxiously.
"GLaDOS said that she deleted Caroline when she let Chell go away," Rattmann said out loud. He nodded at the Companion Cube as if it had just talked to him. "You're right. GLaDOS lies. We know GLaDOS lies. But she wouldn't have lied about that. So why…?"
"Hold on, just need a slight explanation," Wheatley interjected as Rattmann lapsed into silence again, head down, pacing savagely. "GLaDOS deleted Caroline? How can she do that? That doesn't make sense!"
"No!" Rattmann turned to Wheatley, clapping his hands and pointing. "It doesn't make sense! GLaDOS is Caroline, Caroline forms GLaDOS, she is Her backbone! GLaDOS can't exist without Caroline, just like you can't exist or operate without Stephen Ley!"
"I can't?" This was news to Wheatley. "Alright, ok. Good- good to know."
"So, Caroline is still in there," said Rattmann, snapping his fingers in agitation. "GLaDOS thinks that She deleted Caroline, but deleting Caroline is impossible. Caroline is still inside GLaDOS and I have her body…"
"Wait, you have her… Ohhh…" Wheatley's optic opened wide. "Those two bodies you have in the other room! The girl, that one was Caroline! And the other was…" His handles slackened, drooping. "Oh. Really."
"Oh, really," laughed Rattmann, swooping up the black portal gun and Cube with one movement. "I've held out hope all these years, just a feeble one, but just enough to keep me working. I think I've salvaged enough technology to make this work."
"What work?" Wheatley asked. "I still don't understand. Do I… Do I really want to know?"
"Probably not," laughed Rattmann, sprinting for the door. "You probably won't like this at all! But I could use an extra pair of hands. And bait! You can supply both!"
"What?!" Wheatley yelped. "You've completely cracked, haven't you? That's what's happened, you- you've gone barmy!"
But it was too late. Rattmann had already left.