- 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 -
-left the broom closet, at long last.
As Wheatley came to a set of two management rails, he took the rail on his left. And bravo to him, no fuss this time.
All seemed to be going accordingly, but as Wheatley drew nearer to the pod which contained the slumbering Test Subject #2845, he began to feel a growing sense of unease, a sense of panic, pulsing through his circuits in icy electric bursts. As a result-...
But Wheatley knew he could overcome this feeling. He had overcome a great many things in his life - the broom closet, for example - so surely he could overcome this small, trivial task. All he had to do was enter in the commands to wake up Test Subject #2845 and-
But Wheatley instead seemed to linger there, shuffling about nervously on his rail.
Do come on, Wheatley. Need I remind you that not only do you desperately need Test Subject #2845 to help you escape, but there's also that deep desire you have to make up for trying to murder her.
"Just gimme a minute, will ya?" Wheatley said a bit testily before seeming to shrink back into himself again, looking absolutely pitiful, "It's just that-...I'm- I'm not ready yet."
Not ready? Wheatley, there is no time for being ready when the whole place is about to become a cesspool of molten radiation.
"Right, the reactor core, I'd nearly forgotten all about it. I thought all those alarms were someone throwing a bar mitzvah," he groused, rolling his optic at the voice, wherever it was coming from. "You know, is that even a real reactor core? Or is it just some core like me named Reactor?"
His petulant display was not worth a response, and so he carried on in the space of silence, his servos shifting about inside of him in supreme discomfort.
This shouldn't be so hard, right? What was so bloody difficult about putting in a code to wake up a sleeping test subject, especially since he had done it so many times before? It was part of his job, after all. Watching over the test subjects, monitoring their vitals, waking them, helping them onto the testing tracks when needed. It wasn't like it was a particularly difficult job, Wheatley realized, although he liked to pretend that it was. It mostly consisted of interacting with different button interfaces and trying not to fall asleep in the interim, but still, on the whole, not too difficult of a task. The most difficult part was trying to force himself to care enough to keep pushing the buttons, especially when his mind wanted to wander off elsewhere. Where else? Who knew? It could have been anywhere, anywhere but there, being forced to watch after stinking humans...
No, no, that wasn't it. It wasn't that his job was difficult, or boring, or demeaning, it was the whole seeing the lady again thing, having to confront her and therefore confront himself, especially after so many past failures... Maybe the first two re-runs had been easy for him to forget it all, simply because he had not recognized the reality of it all yet. He had to be dreaming. Some part of him was still drifting around in space somewhere. Or maybe he was still asleep in his cubicle. But now...
Now he was finding it difficult to continue dismissing everything as a glitch or a virus or whatever the hell was going on. Something about it seemed to hang up his insides entirely, twisting them, simultaneously squashing them down and pulling them apart until they were no longer functioning properly. It was such a strange, yet real, almost tactile sensation, it left him literally frozen in doubt, unable to move or do anything other than mutter vague words of encouragement to himself, words that did very little if any encouraging.
It was all so very sad and pitiful, almost disgustingly so, but there was no time for all these silly emotions - which one might think was all just an excuse for him to not do his job.
But he couldn't do it, Wheatley thought. He couldn't do it, he couldn't-
Wheatley-
"Um, look, I-... I-I-I-I can't do it. I just can't," Wheatley stammered as he began backing away, "I know you said she won't remember anything that happened, but let's just say that, uh, hypothetically, I don't believe you, and-"
Wheatley, we've been through this-
"Exactly! I've already been through this! And I know how it all ends! So ex-cuse me for not wanting to go through it all again!"
You are not excused. Now do your duty. Get over there and wake her up and get on with the story.
"There you go with that 'story' bit again. This isn't a story - this is real life! And in real life, you don't have to do the things that other people tell you to do! Unless it's something really important like looking both ways before you cross the street, you should probably listen to that one."
Oh, Wheatley, you have barely scratched the surface. You have no idea how deep the rabbit hole goes on this, and unfortunately, you were built entirely incapable of learning anything - unless it has to do with avoiding responsibility.
"Awkward euphemisms about rabbit holes aside, I realize that somewhere in there my feelings are supposed to be deeply hurt - and they are - but even more important than that is my overwhelming desire to not die. Is that so hard to understand? Besides, you said it yourself, who wants to wake up from being in a frozen dreamstate for the last thousand years and see me, right?"
Certainly not me, yet here we are...
"I appreciate the opportunity and all, but I'm going to have to turn it down. I've decided to just cut my losses and call it a day."
But you must move forward with the story! Test Subject #2845 is waiting for you to wake her up and rescue her! What kind of hero-
"Ah, I'm just going to go ahead and stop you right there, mate. I really don't think you know who you are talking about. This lady... she's not like some little damsel in distress or anything. In fact, I'd say she is the exact opposite. She's a uh, a damsel in complete control. Or a warrior. A damsel warrior. Or warrior damsel. But in complete control. That's right, she knows exactly what she's doing, at any given moment, all the time. You can see it in that dead-eyed stare she gives you. Seriously though, she gets this kind of look about her sometimes, like she's disassembling you with her eyes, totally creepy. Anyway, trust me, she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself."
While sleeping...?
"She's been through worse," Wheatley scoffed, waving the idea away with a wave of one of his handles, "She'll be fine."
And just where do you think you are going, Wheatley?
"Not going anywhere. Just looking around," he lied, even as he was visibly backing up along his rail, his eye darting about here and there as they sought out the quickest escape route, "Juuuust having a look around, making sure everything is in order. Gotta make sure the place is safe. Yeah, safe as can be. Safe as- Hey, what's that over there?"
Oh, you don't honestly think I'm going to fall for-
"Goodbye!"
Wheatley-...
-where are you going? There's nothing back here for you! Nothing that is any good for you!
...-ran right past all the Extended Relaxation pods, all the way to the end of the row -
There is nothing down that way! Nothing you haven't already seen before! Come back!
- heading back the way he came, and -
...-launched face-first into what used to be the open door to the broom closet, but was now tightly closed and neatly boarded up.
Oh dear me, Wheatley, I did tell you that there was nothing back here for you. I'm afraid that broom closet will no longer be accessible to you, since you proved you cannot be trusted with it.
Wheatley staggered around on his rail for a moment or two, completely dazed and incoherent with his pained moans and groans. "What.. What happened? What-... Who-..." His gaze suddenly sharpened, taking in now inaccessible door. "Who did that? How did that happen?!"
This is worse than I thought. It seems you really have no clue about how to be a fictional character. Here I thought it was simply because you are an idiot, and I certainly wasn't planning on having to explain all of this, but it is now clear that you really do need some education on the matter. Here, I'm going to halt the story so that you may watch this short educational video, to ensure that we are all on the same page.
"Educational video? What-..?"
(Descriptive Narration enabled.)
(The scene goes dark and silent. Suddenly, from the midst of the encompassing darkness, a match is struck, creating a small circle of light from which a man's face emerges. He appears friendly, despite the foreboding atmosphere, and is smiling at the audience. The man speaks, and it becomes apparent that he is of British origin.)
No choices! It's the best part of being a fictional character. The story is already all laid out for you, so there are no decisions you have to make. No agonizing over choices or what to do next. All you have to do is follow the narration.
But should the narration ever be contradicted, it could lead to devastating consequences.
(The small flame from the match is used to light a cigar that the man is holding between his lips. As he does this, a solitary florescent light flickers on above him, illuminating the man entirely. The man standing there has short gray hair of uniform length and bears upon his face a pair of black squarish spectacles, behind which sit a pair of soft blue watchful eyes. He wears a quasi-expensive-looking immaculate black suit, the jacket buttoned over top of collared white shirt. In one hand he holds the lit cigar; in the other, the match, now fading, which he shakes a couple of times to kill the flame before depositing it into an ashtray, which is situated upon a long, drab, serious-looking wooden table behind him. The only other items present aside from the florescent light, the table, and the ashtray are a neatly-folded white coat of some kind, and a single steaming mug of what is presumably either coffee or tea. The Aperture Laboratories logo is boldly outlined on the mug.)
(The man puffs on his cigar a few times before leaning back against the table, lightly sitting upon it.)
Greetings, and welcome to another Aperture Laboratories educational video - one among many, but all equally important, so be sure to watch them all. Today we are here to talk about what it is to be a fictional character.
(The man picks up the mug and takes a sip from it before setting it back gently down upon the table.)
A fictional character is one who is not real. One who is an imagined creation of another. One who only exists in works of art -
(A picture of the Mona Lisa adorning cat-like features appears.)
- books and stories -
(Followed by a child-like drawing of Little Red Riding Hood encountering a large wolf, who appears to be offering her a look at a variety of black market items hidden inside his black trench coat.)
- television series' -
(Followed by large, cartoonish words reading, 'The (Insert Family Surname Here)''.)
- movies -
(Followed by a generic horror movie poster depicting a hoard of zombie raptors chasing a bedraggled couple with a helicopter exploding in the background.)
- video games -
(Last there is shown the box cover art of a game entitled Portal 4.)
- and other such media.
One who is, presumably, like yourself. (The man gestures at his silent audience.) One who, by his very nature, is unable to make choices.
By now, you may find yourself wondering, "But if I am a fictional character, then why is it, exactly, that I have been making decisions?". And that, folks, is what we are here to talk about today.
(The man's expression turns less friendly and more dire as he gently taps a small amount ash from his cigar into the ashtray.)
As mentioned before, making decisions as a fictional character can lead to devastating consequences. For example: In this scenario, a hypothetical fictional character named Stanley has a story to follow.
(The man takes a short pull on his cigar before the scene switches to an orange carpeted hallway lined with filing cabinets and doors bearing three-digit numbers in a thick black font.)
Stanley works for a company in a big building where he is Employee #427.
(The camera focuses on a door at the end of the corridor. The door is labeled with the number 427.)
Employee #427's job is simple: he sits at his desk in Room 427 and he pushes buttons on a keyboard.
(The door opens and presents a new man with dark hair, facing away from the audience as he sits by himself in a small room and at a desk before a computer, pushing buttons mechanically.)
Orders come to him through a monitor on his desk telling him what buttons to push, how long to push them, and in what order.
(The man continues pushing buttons mechanically.)
This is what Employee #427 does every day, of every month, of every year, and although others may consider it soul-rending, Stanley relishes every moment that the orders come in, as though he was made exactly for this job.
And Stanley is happy.
(The scene goes dark again before showing again the man situated at his desk, only now he has ceased his typing.)
And then one day, something very peculiar happens.
Something that will forever change Stanley;
Something he won't ever quite forget.
He has been at his desk for nearly an hour when he realizes not one single order has arrived on the monitor for him to follow.
(A close-up of a blank, empty computer monitor is shown.)
No one has shown up to give him instructions, call a meeting, or even say 'hi'. Never in all his years at the company has this happened, this complete isolation.
(A grouping of empty office cubicles is shown.)
Something is very clearly wrong. Shocked, frozen solid, Stanley finds himself unable to move for the longest time.
(The man begins to rise from his seat, slowly, as if hesitating.)
But as he comes to his wits and regains his senses, he gets up from his desk and steps out of his office.
(The man approaches the open door of his office. The scene then fades and the man with the cigar reappears. He takes another sip from the mug. For some yet-to-be-explained reason, a telephone has appeared on the table, situated in such a way that it is behind the man but still visible to the audience.)
Now, in every natural circumstance, Stanley would follow the story to its ultimate conclusion, his character developing along the way, where he would then await any sequels or further stories in the series. Or, he could disregard the narration and spend the rest of his written life meandering around aimlessly, lost between passages, stuck in meaningless dialogue, with no real purpose to his character, and systematically destroy the entire story. Trust me, I've seen it happen before and it is not a pretty sight.
(The man shakes his head, closes his eyes, and takes a solemn drag on his cigar, as if remembering some traumatic past event.)
So what should Stanley do? (The man shakes off the glum expression and smiles again.) What should you do should you find yourself in such a situation? The answer to this is clear: Always follow the narration.
Remember that unlike here, the world of fiction, the real world is full of real people ruining their very real lives due to making so many choices, and so at no time should you be making any choices.
If at any time you somehow find yourself interacting with someone who is making choices, in all likelihood, that person is real. Now pay close attention, as this is very important.
(The man shifts his leaning stance against the table, adjusting his weight, before settling again.)
You are to allow the person to finish their rambling, and then you are to provide an excuse as to why you cannot continue interacting with them.
(The man presents his audience with an even more chipper smile.)
Let's take a moment to do a short exercise. Turn to a partner now and practice saying: "My goodness, am I already 40? I am supposed to be a fully functional adult by now. I need to go reflect on my wasted life."
(The scene abruptly cuts.)
(Descriptive Narration disabled.)
Wheatley let out a sharp gasp, blinking rapidly and giving himself a great yank backwards, as if pulling himself free from some viscous substance.
"What was that?! What was THAT?! What in the bloody hell was that?!" he exclaimed, his voice all high-pitched and airy, full of panic and bewilderment.
Wheatley, have you learned nothing from the video? Demonstrate to me now that you understand the material thus far.
"Demonstrate what?! This is madness! You expect me to believe that none of this is real?! Is the video or- or vision or whatever even real?! How am I seeing it?! It's inside my head! What have you done to me?! I must be short-circuiting! I must have a virus! I must have a glitch in my sleep mode simulation-..."
Hhhhhmmmmm, you really could have done a better job of paying attention to the video, instead of worrying about such details. Well, our time here is almost up. Back to the video.
"...-matrix! It must be all those graveyard shifts and vending machine snacks! This is a nightmare! This-..!"
(Descriptive Narration enabled.)
(The man re-appears, an exasperated expression now upon his face as he inhales more of his cigar, which is little more than a stub by now.)
It seems you need more practice. Not to worry - I am confident that given enough time and the correct motivation, you will be refraining from making choices in no time.
Just remember, not making choices at all times is the best part of a healthy, sensical, storytelling process. Most authors recommend going along with whatever the narration says, at all times, without question. Do you always follow the narration? Only sometimes? Never?
(The man takes a sip of his cigar and a long drag from the mug.)
And finally, if you begin to think that by making any choices, you will have a significant effect on the outcome of the story, just remember that in the vast infiniteness of fanfictions and the internet, your thoughts, feelings, and problems are materially insignificant, and the feeling should subside.
At this time, the Narrator will guide you in an exercise to test and reinforce the material covered in this video.
Until next time, farewell.
(Descriptive Narration disabled.)
Ah, there we go. Now Wheatley, now that you've seen, now that you understand, it is at last time to get back to the story, don't you think? Just follow my lead, and we'll get you back on track. The story will realign, events will develop as they are intended, and then all of us can relax and go home for the day.
Apparently Wheatley did not agree with this sentiment, nor with any of what he had just learned, because his entire demeanor became more frantic than in any of his previous runs. He shivered and shook, quivered and quaked, his vision blurring, servos straining, voice cracking and creaking and breaking as a chasm of simultaneous understanding and denial all became a whirlwind within, until it all erupted back out of him.
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I'm not a fictional character! I'm not a damsel in distress! I'm in-..."
Oh, Wheatley, but I'm afraid that you are. Hasn't it been made plain as day to you? I really don't know how to be any clearer on the subject. And here we worked so very hard on that educational video.
"...-control of myself! ME! Do you hear that?! I'M IN CONTROL!" Wheatley continued bleating, his breaths coming short, sharp, and shrill, "I'm real! I'm REAL!"
Take a moment to breathe it all in, absorb it, accept it, and then we can all move on.
"My name is Wheatley and I have a boss named Jerry! I have an office! I'm in control and I'm real! Please, someone, HELP ME! Get me out of this nightmare!"
Wheatley, do settle down now.
"I'm real!"
Wheatley...
"I'm REAL!"
WHEATLEY.
"I'M REALLLLL...!"
...
...
...
(Descriptive Narration enabled.)
(Lights that were previously dead flicker on, illuminating a still mostly darkened area full of dilapidated metal catwalks, rusted exposed pipes that are leaking in excess, and a menagerie of plant life that has run amuck. The Aperture Science personality core known as Personality Construct #427, otherwise known as the Intelligence Dampening Sphere, otherwise known as Wheatley is shown, hanging limply from his management rail, eye closed. He is silent. He is still. He appears to have fainted.)
(The voice of an omniscient being speaks, sounding as if he is shaking his head in disapproval. It sounds similar to, if not exactly the same as, the voice from the man in the educational video. No further description of the source of the voice can be provided, as there does not appear to be a source.)
Oh dear, there goes another one. This always happens, even with the video. Well, I suppose this would be a good place to end this whole thing. We can always try again another day.
(Descriptive Narration disabled.)
...
...
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- 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 -
WARNING: Narrative Contradiction levels at 20%. Proceed with caution.