The Wheatley Parable

by Thursday's Dove

This is the story of a core named "Wheatley". That's it. That's all there is. Would you like to know more? [YES] [NO]

12. The Lost Ending

- 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 -

"Crap, I'm lost."

Wheatley halted on his rail, looking around and realizing he did not recognize any of his surroundings. While technically his surroundings looked just like every other part of the facility - full of management rails, catwalks, and pipes, dark, directionless, and, above all, foreboding - this particular stretch of dark, directionless, foreboding rails, catwalks, and pipes seemed entirely unfamiliar to him.

"Where am I?" he said, his voice echoing in the empty corridors as he turned about in search of something or somebody, anybody, who might be able to assist him, "Um, hello? I need some help here. Need to know how to get to the reactor core."

There came no answer. As had been previously stated, if Wheatley was so intent on going off on his own like this, then he was, by definition, on his own. No help to be had from anyone, omnipresent or otherwise.

"Huh, well, shows how useful he is. Uggghh," he groaned out to loud and to himself, "Right, not like there's anyone else I can ask for directions. No way of- Oh! Hang on a minute. I've got this nifty little map software right here. Oh wait, nononono, wait a minute," he deflated, "What if- what if it kills me? They told me it would kill me if I ever used it! But wait, hang on, they told me that about my flashlight too, and a million other things, and I didn't- Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, sure could use some light around here-" Wheatley winced, his flashlight clicked on, and then he simulated a sigh of relief, "Okay, so that worked out and now I can see properly again! Well, sort of, it is terribly dark down here. So now, the map-.. the map... Okay, booting that up nnnnnnnnow- AH! Aha! Hahahaha! Look at that, it worked! It worked! And I'm still alive! Hahahaaaa! All right, now, let's see here."

Wheatley studied his internal map program, which all Aperture devices came equipped with to help them navigate the labyrinthine and ever-changing corridors of the massive facility. The entire place was like a big nasty spiderweb - one wrong turn and you might get caught up in it. That made the task of studying it extra important - the last thing Wheatley wanted was to get turned around down here and end up in a masher or bottomless pit or worse.

"Okay, yup, I've got it." He double-checked the map to make sure he did actually have it and got moving. "This seems to be the right way, for sure."

Wheatley followed the map for a short while before suddenly ahead of him in any direction he looked was nothing. No catwalks. No rails. No pipes. Not even any light. There was nothing at all. Just darkness. He paused and checked his map and was confused by the big empty blank spot that appeared directly around him, corresponding with the lightless areas he was seeing.

"Now that doesn't make sense."

He could see where he was; he could see where the reactor core was; he could even see where the broom closet was; but the path on how to get from here to there - there being the reactor core - was occupied with that big empty blank spot. It was if he was hovering in a part of the facility that was entirely offline, in its own little black void, which was odd to say the least. He looked ahead to where the blankness began on his map and saw that, strangely enough, everything in that direction was completely blank as well, as if no light could reach beyond a certain point. When he shined his flashlight into the void, the wide beam was swallowed up by the darkness, revealing nothing, not even so much as a speck of dust.

"What is going on here?" he muttered.

Oh no, it's happening already...

Wheatley shrieked, "GAHHHH!" before making a frustrated noise, "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

I'm sorry, Wheatley, is there some way you prefer that I let you know that I am still here?

"Maybe next time just, I don't know-.."

Perhaps I could launch fireworks at your face. That could be a good way of getting your attention.

"...I was gonna suggest that you cough or something when you need to make your entrance. No fireworks necessary. Besides, where would you get any fireworks down here, huh, genius? I think we ran out of those along with the confetti you used up when scaring the crap out of me the first time. N-Not, um, not that I was scared, mind you, I was just, um, surprised, that's all. A bit surprised. I mean, who wouldn't be when some random invisible person just starts speaking to them from out of nowhere and puts a bunch of flashing lights in their face and throws a bunch of confetti at them, right? Anyway, now that you're here, great, maybe you could help me. Why isn't my map software working properly? I've got a map of the place pulled up, but there's all these- these holes all over the place. What's the deal with that?"

You're venturing into unwritten territory, that's what the deal is. This area is far off track from the actual story, so I'm afraid I cannot help you through this, not that I would really want to either way. As I said before, you're on your own here. Also I cannot guarantee what might happen to you if you continue on this way. Your best bet would be to turn around now and go back the way you came.

"Right, go back the way I came, of course you would say that. Guess I should have expected as much." He decided to disregard the advice and went back to consulting his map. "Well, this looks like the way there, but-"

-the scenery was mostly black, blank, if not non-existent. He had the most curious feeling that the space in front of him did not in fact exist yet, which seemed to be true as he proceeded. The space directly before him continued being nothing until he came right up on it, and then when he did, the space a couple feet or so in front of him would sort of unfurl before him, seeming to materialize just as he reached it. It was like somebody had divided by zero and ripped open a reverse black hole in the fabric of the universe, regurgitating bit by bit all of the catwalks, the pipes, the signature Aperture Science ever-present gloom. And his rail was doing the most bizarre thing. It appeared gradually before him, emerging out of the emptiness in small sections, as if being hurriedly drawn in place by someone struggling to keep up with his pace. He had the darnedest feeling that if he went ahead too quickly, he would outrun the length of the rail before it could materialize and he would pop right off the end of it. He even went so far as to slow down and cautiously inch his way forward, prepared to jerk backwards on his rail should he suddenly find it to be short.

All in all, it was quite disconcerting and left him feeling uneasy, creeped out, and more than a bit lonely. In an attempt to alleviate this conglomerate of uncomfortable feelings, he began to hum an upbeat tune, and for a short stint it actually worked. As he moved along the manifesting rail, he hummed this tune and bobbed his whole body to and fro, a feeling of light-hearted well-being filling him, spreading from his core and radiating outwards, causing the beam of his flashlight to brighten and illuminate more of the darkness. The joyful feeling compounded in on itself until Wheatley was feeling so good, he was dancing and bouncing around on his rail - as if he was not in peril and, more importantly, as if no one was watching.

The song reinvigorated him, reinforcing within him his mission and what he knew (or thought) to be right. He was on his way to fix the reactor core. The lady would be safe, he would be safe, everyone and everything would be safe. Everything was going to be just fine.

Stop it! Stop that humming!

"..-hm hm hmmAAAHH! Oh my G-.. You utter tosspot, you have got to stop doing that! All this stress, this anxiety, it really isn't good for my circuits!"

I'll tell you what else isn't good for your circuits - that humming. Stop it right now!

"More like it isn't good for your circuits, which you know, frankly, I am okay with right now. And look, you said you weren't going to be any part of this. So either you help me or go back to- to just hanging around wherever it is you hang around, but preferably not inside my head or within my general vicinity."

I'm going to ignore your childish remarks in favor of giving you another warning, seeing as this concerns us both - If you continue humming like that, you'll summon It™!

"Pfft, what? You mean the creepy clown from the sewer? You want to talk about fictional characters-"

No no no, It™ is something much worse, I assure you. Please, I implore you, stop humming that tune and turn back now. If you don't, It™ will appear and will systematically destroy the entire-

"OooOOOooooOOOoo, I'm very scared. Maybe you should stick to narrating horror novels, hahahaha," Wheatley chuckled, following the rail around a corner and into a circular vestibule, off of which the rail branched into multiple directions. The one directly across from him went through an open door, and Wheatley, too busy mocking his unseen (and unwelcome) companion, went straight into it without paying much heed. "Except you're much better at jump scares than anything actually scary. So keep trying there, mate, you just keep on try-..."

Wheatley entered the room -

"...-ing."

- and froze.

The room was full of humans.

A lot of them.

Most of them appeared to be strikingly similar to each other, almost like clones, sharing at least one similar trait or another, more in some cases. One of the most common features was their height - nearly all of them were ridiculously tall, taller than any human Wheatley had ever seen, rising like stalks of corn out of a field. Most had blond hair, bright blue eyes, wore spectacles of varying shapes and sizes, and were dressed in a uniform of black pants, white collared shirt, blue tie, and either blue or black sneakers. There were the odd few who bore dissimilar qualities: A few with red hair, fewer with darker-colored hair, and fewer still with decidedly unnatural hair colors - white, blue. Some even appeared to be at least part mechanic, with random metallic bits and pieces - eyes, arms, hands, plates and glass on the front that bore an eerie resemblance to his own optic - and weird handley-looking thingies sticking out of their shoulders (Wheatley was reminded of the pommel horses gymnasts used, which formed in his mind's eye a rather bizarre image) which, as it turned out, looked exactly like his own handles.

All of these humans, the entire ludicrous lot of them, were alive and milling about as if they were at a convention - some very specific convention Wheatley had yet to identify. Talking to each other; talking at each other; talking over each other; laughing; cavorting; jeering. They were playing Foosball; checkers; toss-across; video games, in particular one that looked like it was taking place in some of the back offices around the facility. A couple of the humans - two nearly identical twins of the tall blond-haired, blue-eyed variety, their only difference being how their hair was styled - were engaged in what appeared to be a rather heated match of arm wrestling, who were in turn being cheered on by a small crowd of onlookers, most of whom were also tall and blond.

It was all so very strange. But perhaps the strangest part of all this was that they were all claiming to be -

"I'm Wheatley!"

"I'm Wheatley!"

"Wheatley here!"

- him.

Either that, or by some astronomical coincidence they all shared the same name - both among themselves and with him - which seemed to make about as much sense as the existence of a room full of these humans to begin with. But even that didn't fully make sense because they all even sounded like him - accent, tone, inflections, the whole shebang.

Wheatley could feel his all of components - both internal and external - struggling to process what he was seeing. His fear protocols seemed to be in shipshape - oh, of course those were just fine - but his fight or flight protocols... those seemed to be malfunctioning and had instead invented and offered him a third, totally useless option - freeze. He wondered if (hoped that) their vision was based on movement and that his inability to move would work in his favor.

Apparently not. Because in the half-beat between his entrance into the room and his absorption of what he was seeing, at least twenty dozen pairs of eyes swung in his direction and locked onto him, like a bunch of police searchlights converging onto an escaped convict. All their commotion settled down as their voices rose up - "Hello!" - spoken slightly out of sync with each other and striking a haunting discord that sent ice through Wheatley's circuits.

He was thoroughly freaked out and wanted to nope his way out of there immediately, but he couldn't move. Couldn't make himself move. All of his components had locked up, effectively anchoring him to the spot. The only physical part of him that was functional at that moment was his voice synthesizer.

"Uh... H-Hello!..." he squeaked, trembling and pulling all of his plates in tightly, "Nice, umm- convention you have going on here... Heh heh. I was just, uh.. just dropping by to- to have a look around the place- And, and everything looks great, absolutely spectacular, top notch- Definitely not violating any reasonable safety measures or anything around here. Looks like you're all having a great time, so-.. Sorry to have interrupted, I'll- I'll just be leaving now."

Wheatley barely had enough time to even begin to wonder what exactly they were all doing there and where they had come from before they began advancing on him. Quite naturally, he advanced too. In the same direction. Backwards. At last his gears were beginning to respond.

Their voices arose again as they moved closer, "Join us, Wheatley!"

"Um, wh-..."

- and closer -

"Join us!"

"..-What exactly do you mean by 'join'? Is this like a club-.."

- and closer -

"Play with us!"

"...- or some- Excuse me - play? I don't-.."

- and closer still -

"Stay with us!"

"..-Hey, look, I'd- I'd- I'd love to, I really would, but I can't-..."

- until they were right up on him.

"Become us..."

Just what kind of Stephen King nightmare had he gotten himself into? He had no idea, but thankfully his fight or flight protocols kicked in at just the right moment -

"NOPE!"

- giving him just enough time to tear away screaming. All in rapid succession, a few of the anthropomorphized Wheatleys made a leaping grab for him, Wheatley yelped in terror, pulled his handles in as flat against his hull as they could get, felt their spindly human fingers scrape against the underside of his chassis, yelped again, the door slammed shut behind him, and he heard nothing more.

"Well-..." he gasped, his non-existent lungs searching for breath they did not need yet still feeling the compulsion to do so anyway, "...that was baffling. Why in all the name of Aperture Science does a room like that exist?!"

I told you, Wheatley, this place is unwritten territory. None of it was ever meant to see the light of day. It's all highly volatile and dangerous. But did you listen to me? Well, I should think the answer to that is obvious.

"You're telling me you put that room full of crazy humans there?!"

Not at all. I know next to nothing of this area, save for the fact that we - and when I say "we" I mean you - are not supposed to be here.

"Then who- You know what, I've decided it doesn't matter. All that matters right now is finding the reactor core and getting the buggered thing working properly again." Wheatley took a look around and realized that, in the ensuing chaos, he had lost track of which direction he had come from. "Right, how do I get out of here?"

Don't go asking me. I'm just as lost as you.

"Ugh, what good are you anyway?"

Well, what do you expect me to do about it? You're the one who decided to come this way. I hope you're happy now that we're lost. Why don't you consult your map?

Wheatley checked the map again but that only succeeded in showing him that things had somehow gotten worse.

"Not good. The map is practically useless. The holes are worse now, they're everywhere. I can't even see the reactor core now, or the way back! I don't understand. Why is this happening?"

I warned you, Wheatley. I warned you this would happen.

"What? No you didn't! All you said was that the reactor core would kill me if I came this way! You have been remarkably vague about everything else this whole time! Telling me this, telling me that! Trying to warn me about- about some stupid fictional 'It™' thing!"

Ssshhhhhh! It™'ll hear us!

"Oh is that so? Well, then- Da da da da, da da dum, da da da da, da da da dum!" he sang, going back and forth between studying his map and surveying his physical surroundings.

Stop it!

This only encouraged Wheatley to sing louder, "DA DA DA DA, DA DA DUM! DA DA DA DA, DA DA DA DUM!"

It was right in the middle of his divided scrutiny of the map and antagonizing his unseen companion, searching for any way around the holes or even any holes in the holes that might lead him in the right direction (He sure could use the lady and her portal gun's help right about now, he was thinking through all of this), that there came a peculiar loud noise, a kind of mechanical-sounding hiccup -

BA-DUP!

- interrupting him and causing him to yelp.

"Oh God, what was that?! What was that?!" He shrank back on his rail, backed into the closed door of the zombie clones room, upon the impact of which caused him to yelp again and pull forward sharply.

Ohhhh noooo, Wheatley, now you've gone and done it. What have you- Look at what you did!

"Me? I didn't do anything, I've just been standing right here! Well, okay, fair enough, not actually standing, but hanging about."

Wheatley looked up and flinched in surprise upon seeing that his management rail, beginning right in front of the part he was sitting on, had changed from its normal metal gray color to a bright, cheerful, construction yellow. It™ stood out in stark contrast to the inky umbra surrounding him, at least until It™ too was swallowed by the subsequent gloom as It™ continued on down one of the dark, not-yet-existent corridors.

He squinted at It™, not quite understanding or believing what he was seeing. "What is that?"

...This is all your fault. Anything that goes awry from here on out is entirely - your - fault. I told you not to hum that tune, I warned you that doing so would summon It™. But did you listen to me? Noooo, you just had to see, didn't you?

"It™-.. this Line™ is what you've been squawking about? I think It™ wants me to follow It™." He paused and blinked, "Oh wow, how is that happening? Every time I refer to It™, there's that little 'TM' thing. I mean, I didn't say it - the TM - but it's there."

Of course It™ wants you to follow It™, Wheatley. It™'s the Stanley Parable Adventure Line™.

"...The Stanley Parable?"

It™'s meant to guide lost fictional characters back to the story, however, It™'s most notorious for getting characters lost instead -

"...We're already lost."

- so I strongly suggest you just ignore It™ and-.. What's that? You™'re the Wheatley Parable Adventure Rail™, now? And You™ insist on- This is ridiculous-

"Uhhhh... who are you talking to?"

Just ignore It™, Wheatley. Just do as I say, ignore the Rail™, go back the way you came -

"But I don't know which way I came from and my map isn't working."

- and forget you ever saw this Thing™.

"Aaaaactually... I think I'll follow It™."

No! No no no no no! Don't do that! Do NOT do that! That is the worst idea in your long history of bad ideas! The Rail™ is dangerous! You can't even comprehend the full magnitude of how dangerous It™ is! Suffice to say, if you follow It™, It™ will ruin the entire story, will render the whole thing utterly useless and possibly even-

"What, this little ol' Rail™ here?" Wheatley teased, moving forward slightly and touching It™. "Ooooh, It™'s all nice and warm. I kinda like this Thing™."

No! Stop it! Don't follow It™ any further! You aren't even the Adventure Core - you're the Idiot Core, you don't go on adventures, so you shouldn't be following It™ at all!

"So, because I'm an i- excuse me, supposed idiot - supposed - that means that I can't follow the Adventure Rail™? The lady and I went on lots of adventures! Well, technically one big long adventure broken down into sub-plots. That is, before I- I mean, I- ahem-.."

..-Tried to murder her?

"I wouldn't use that word.. exactly. Maybe something a bit less dramatic like, like, uh-.. knock off, or, or neutralize, or terminate, or something along those lines. Actually, those sound more dramatic. But you get my point. She and I had some adventurous times, yeah." Wheatley's eye plates came together in a slow blink as an unexpected wave of wistfulness tickled through his circuits, making him feel oddly warm and heavy on the inside. And then he shook it off and straightened, "But- I know the lady would want to follow It™, so that's what I'm gonna do."

Wheatley, don't you dare! You've already ruined things enough. By following the Rail™, you are only going to make things worse!

"Yeah, I'm definitely gonna follow It™. And look, It™'s even on my map, that must mean It™'s safe, right?"

Absolutely not! It™ doesn't know what It™'s doing. Whatever you do, for the sake of all of us - for the sake of the story - DO NOT FOLLOW IT™!

"Yeahhhhh, I'm just gonna go ahead and-" Wheatley stretched out his panels, letting out a sigh when a few of the stiff joints cracked, "-follow It™. Can't get more lost than lost, right? Besides, It™ seems perfectly friendly to me. Probably the friendliest thing around this joint, if I'm honest."

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: Gain a Sidekick!

"See? Even the Achievement thing agrees. That's three against one, mate - four, if you count the lady, which I'm going to count it on her behalf. So that's four votes against your measly one. So that's it then - I'm following the Rail™. See you around!" said Wheatley happily as he pursued the Rail™ over and through the black horizon.

No no no no no no! Stop following It™! Turn back immediately! This is my final warning to you - TURN BACK N-

- 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 -

---

WARNING: Narrative Contradiction levels at 53%. Proceed with substantial caution.

Author: If you'd like to hear the music Wheatley was singing, you may hear it here - /guIaCocnNaw . If the link does not work, look up "Following Stanley" by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra.