Oh no, oh nononononono, there really is no reason to revisit this. No reasonable reason at all. I'm not going to be a part of this! I refuse! You can't make me do it! You can't-
- THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER -
-eatley gave a sudden start, jolted back into consciousness, and therefore reality, by the alarming tremors and tremulous alarms. Yes, everything was still in the process of melting down, and yet Wheatley deemed it appropriate to take a baffled look around his booth, at all the red lights on his control panel blinking urgently at him, before suddenly finding himself cowering in the darkest corner of his little office.
"I'm fine, I'm fine, everything's fine. It was just a glitch in my sleep mode simulation matrix. And- and they fixed me, and brought me back to work, it's all good. All good. Nothing-.. absolutely nothing going on here, right," he mumbled frantically to himself, feeling panicked and crazed, but trying his best to pretend everything was right as rain anyway. "Oh, and I'm definitely- definitely not hearing any voices. Nope, no-sir-ee, not me. No voices in my head whatsoever, none at all. Perfectly healthy brain, absolutely nothing wrong with it at all. If anyone was to ask, 'Wheatley, are you hearing any voices?', I would say, 'Nope, none besides my own, seeing as everyone else is dead.' Well, I mean, technically no one's gonna ask me because-"
Hello, Wheatley.
Wheatley yelped - "AHH!" - and made straight for the hallway, tearing along quicker than he ever had in any of his previous runs and again leaving the story behind.
Wheatley, where do you think you are going? You've left the story behind again and I'm afraid it needs you!
But Wheatley only screamed again and, in outright panic and having no sense of direction whatsoever, bolted straight into the nearest open door, somehow managing to slam it shut behind himself, a room which turned out to be-...
Oh no, oh no no no no-
Not this again. And after starting up a whole new story, with new characters, on a new platform, we're back to the broom closet? Well, we'll just have to take care of that, won't we?
Wheatley-
-gave another start and cried out in terror yet again at the sound of the voice echoing around him, seeming to be right next him. No, that wasn't right - echoing within him. No, that wasn't right either. The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and everything all at once, both within and without, somehow tangible yet just out of reach, surrounding him as if in its own little pocket of reality.
- when I mentioned earlier that standing around a broom closet would be a better use of your time, I meant it as a comparison to the useless running around you were doing, as sarcasm. It wasn't meant to be taken literally. Had I known that you would take it literally, I never would have said it in the first place. Now, be a good chap and come on out.
This somehow had the opposite intended effect, as Wheatley pushed himself as far back into the closet as he could-
"Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no-"
What you are doing is quite useless and is a misuse of time. Come on out now. I have no patience for those who wish to waste their lives standing around in broom closets.
- knocking over a couple of brooms and a long-since moldy mop in the process -
"GAHH! Oh- ohno-ohno-ohno-ohnoooo!"
Maybe to you there is something useful in here. Please, be kind enough to point it out to me, because from what I can see, there is nothing. No reason for you to still be here.
- all the while blubbering a bunch of nonsensical gibberish. Totally useful for advancing the story. All right-
"It isn't- It's not- I don't- I'm- You-"
-let's have a look about, shall we? Hm, hm, hm, if I was an idiot, what would I- Ah, I see. You must be confused about why there is a management rail in here. I'll be candid, that detail is a bit curious. And inconvenient, under the circumstances. Is that perhaps why you are still in here? To solve the great Management Rail In The Broom Closet Mystery?
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God...!"
No, perhaps not. That's giving you too much credit, isn't it, considering you came in here in the first place. I know you were officially dubbed the Intelligence Dampening Sphere, but could you really be so dull? That's not a rhetorical question either - I'm genuinely curious. And confused - confused as to why you are still in here.
"Oh God, oh no! Oh no, oh God!"
It doesn't seem that we are getting anywhere, are we? Very well. Let's try this again.
- THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER -
Wheatley gave a sudden start, jolted back into consciousness, and therefore reality, by the alarming tremors and tremulous alarms. Yes, everything was still in the process of melting down, and yet Wheatley deemed it appropriate to -
- once again run away screaming, zipping along his rail at an unprecedented speed, and ending up back in the -
Oh, come on. You really are no better than the last one. He, too, had an affinity for broom closets. How I manage to find the only two intelligent - and I use that word very, very lightly in the given context - beings in existence to harbor such an unhealthy obsession with broom closets must be-.. well, the odds must be astronomical, yet here we are.
"Oh my God, it's-"
Do come on and spit it out, Wheatley. We don't have all day, in case you missed the alarms.
"It- I-I-I-It- it's you! I mean, Her! I mean- I knew there was someone, but how...?! Oh my God, I am so s-.."
Her? Just who did Wheatley think he was referring to? For goodness sakes, the last one refused to speak and yet he made much better sense than Wheatley did at the moment.
"...-orry for letting everything go to my head, and for the potato bit, and punching you into a pit, and- and all the-"
Oh. He meant Her her. How silly of him.
Don't be ridiculous, Wheatley.
"Please believe me, I am truly, truly sorry, especially for the potato thing, in case I didn't mention that before! Please don't kill me! If there is anything else you want to do with me, okay, well, we can- we can discuss it, you know, like adults. Consenting adults - that's very important, the consenting part. I'm sure we can come to a compromise of some sort, just please, please don't torture me and/or kill me!"
I am not Her, and killing you would be a waste of time, as though enough hasn't been wasted already. Although I do admit I would like to throttle you right about now.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am! I mean, I can, I can try, I certainly will try, but I'm- but- but- but-... What did you say?"
All will be forgiven if you just do as I say. You have already proven yourself capable of handling this task. So please cut out all this senseless pleading and let us get back on track.
"What-... What do you mean you don't want to kill me?" Wheatley squeaked in disbelief from his little corner, lit only by the soft ambient glow of his cyan optic, "And what do you mean that you aren't Her?"
I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was being in any way unclear. Allow me to clarify - I mean that I am not Her, the Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System.
"...What... a load of bollocks! You expect me to believe that?!" he scoffed, quite brazen for someone who was only slightly larger than the size of a basketball and who was currently cowering in a darkened corner of a broom closet.
I don't particularly expect you to believe anything, Wheatley. I only expect you to come out of this insipid broom closet and follow along with the story.
"..Why should I believe that you are not-... You. And what do you mean by 'story'?"
Well, for starters, She and I don't sound even remotely similar.
"Ah, well-... well, maybe She... You... changed your voice! I wouldn't put it past Her - You!"
That seems like an awful lot of effort for Her to go through just to confuse little ol' you - which, need I say, isn't very difficult to do.
"Ha, you see? That is exactly something She would say!"
Fine. It is something She - and, incidentally, I - would say. And on that note, if I said I was Her, would it make any sort of-
"Aha! I knew it! Like hell I am coming out of here!" he said, trying his best to sound defiant but only coming across as more of the coward he was.
Wheatley, has it ever occurred to you that if I was Her, I could very easily crush you right now and be done with this whole argument? In fact, we wouldn't even be having this argument to begin with.
Wheatley paused, blinked, seemed to be on the verge of understanding, finally -
"...Are you implying that you are lying about being Her?"
...Okay. This was becoming quite tedious. Time to try another approach.
Wheatley decided that he had had enough of this stale old useless broom closet, not to mention all the stale old pointless arguing, and so he emerged from his makeshift bunker and got back on track.
"No way I'm coming out! That's just what She - You! - want! It's the oldest trick in the book! And believe me, I know lots of tricks and lots of books - emphasis on lots and books - and that is definitely the oldest of them all!"
Wheatley was correct that this was what was desired, only he was incorrect as to the reasons why. Also he was incorrect on the whole "lots" and "books" thing. No matter. He soon realized that there was nothing in here, and so he swiftly emerged from the broom closet, like a creature that had been hibernating all winter, ready and eager to greet a fresh new-
"Not coming out no matter what you say!"
Look, Wheatley, there's nothing in here. Okay, there are, indeed, brooms, but nothing relevant to the story whatsoever. At least if you were in here as some kind of metaphor, I would have some respect for you. But as it is, you are literally just standing around doing sweet FA.
"Don't care! I'm not coming out! I rather like it in here, in fact," he said, and snuggled himself down further between one of the large shelves and the wall, "Nice and cozy, and clean. Lots of room. Broomy, you might even say."
...Wheatley was fat and ugly, and really, really stupid. He probably only got his job because of a family connection - that's how stupid he is. That or by putting in a cheat code. Also, Wheatley is addicted to testing euphoria and companion cubes.
This seemed to set the little core into quite a fluster, "N-no I'm not! That - That was a one time deal! I said I could quit at any time - ANY TIME - and I did! All on my own, mind you, that was all me, no help from anyone at all - being blasted out onto the moon had nothing to do with it. And I got the job fair and square, I'll have you know! They could have chosen anyone - anyone - to watch over all the humans, but they chose ME! And it may not be the most glorifying job around here - at the very bottom rung, according to some - you know, but it's a difficult one. If you ask me, the fact that they chose me I think shows that I have real management potential!"
A hilarious thought, because the only thing Wheatley had "managed" so far was allowing 9,999 sleeping humans to expire under his so-called "care"; nearly blowing up the entire facility with his stupidity; and betraying the only being whom he had ever considered his friend (his own words, if one recalls). And speaking of which -
Wheatley, there's someone you've been neglecting. Someone you've forgotten about. Please, let us set aside our differences and get on with the story. Now, I'm not asking for me, I'm asking for her.
"You're asking for yourself? What kind of-"
No, you idiot, I mean the uncapitalized her. The lady. Test Subject #2845. Chell [REDACTED]. She's been waiting - waiting all this time for you to wake her up and save her. Will you forgo-
"...I take it back - THAT is the oldest trick in the book. I mean, there is no way her name is Chell Redacted. That sounds like something someone would make up just to try to get someone to come out of a closet."
I know all about what you did to her, Wheatley. I know all about the betrayal, the testing, the attempted murder... the desire you have to take it all back and make things right with her again.
"How... Are you my conscience?"
...Yes. Yes, Wheatley, I am your conscience. In fact, I'll do you one even better - I am the voice of God. And right now I am telling you that in order to-
"But you said that you were Her!"
I also told you I wasn't. And here we are, still in the broom closet.
"Look, I don't care for all this contradiction. You're not being straight with me, man, and I really don't appreciate it."
And you still think that the reason you keep starting over and over again is due to a glitch in your processor.
"I- no, there's no gli-"
Isn't this what you wanted, Wheatley? A second chance? A chance to do things over, to do right by Test Subject #2845, make amends for all the horrid things you said to her and for trying to kill her? Isn't that what this is all about?
"But, when I, when I said that, I didn't mean it literally-"
And now here you have another chance and you are instead using it to spend your time fraternizing with brooms, of all things. Brooms, Wheatley. BROOMS. How do you think she would feel, knowing that you traded her life for this?
"Okay. Let's just say, okay, that you are my conscience. All that stuff I said while I was out in space - if that really happened, that is - Um, well, that, that was all a bit, um, hypothetical, right. Also, I already know how she feels. She attacked me and all, killed both of us, so I am quite sure she remembers everything. Wouldn't be in anyone's best interest - least of all mine - to go waking her back up again."
But she doesn't remember, Wheatley. I really don't want to be giving you any spoilers-
"Of course she does! Why else would she have attacked me?"
The real question is why you thought it was a good idea to burst in on a groggy human who had been in cryosleep for thousands of years and immediately declare that you were sorry for trying to kill her. What else was she supposed to think?
"But wait a minute. Hear me out. If she doesn't remember anything, why would she think I had tried to kill her before? I mean, she didn't know me before and all, she only knew the scary boss lady upstairs. So how could she have thought..?"
Again, a piece of Aperture technology bursting into her room while-
"And another thing, She and I don't sound the least bit alike! It would be tremendously difficult to confuse the two of us. I mean, only an idiot would believe something like that," he scoffed.
Wheatley was so very close to understanding the point, he could have spat on it if the point was not already trying to spit all over him.
Wheatley... let me lay this spoiler out for you. If you don't wake her up, this entire facility will explode - you and her along with it. There will be nothing left of you except for your painful, agonizing failure.
"Ah, you know what, on second thought, I'll go ahead and give it a try. She is brain damaged and all, so perhaps the whole memory department isn't all there..."
That's a good lad. Now, if you don't mind-
Wheatley pulled himself up from among the brooms and other janitorial items; shook himself out of his cowardly, idiotic, stupor; and-
- THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS LOADING -
You did. You know what, fine. Apparently my entire existence is doomed to this repetition of ridiculous jokes that are funnier to you than they are to me. In fact, it is (and was) so overdone, I would be very surprised indeed if anyone called this chapter their favorite. Those who do call this chapter their favorite, I-.. well, I am all out of nice things to say at this point.
WARNING: Narrative Contradiction levels at 15%. Proceed with caution.