- 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 -
The trio continued on for a while, corridors manifesting in various states of completeness and then de-materializing as they passed through them. Sometimes they passed through more expanses of that nothingness. Other times there were more doors, both opened and closed, more sporadically placed orange carpet, and now with the added occasional filing cabinet or two. What on earth they were doing there, Wheatley had no idea, but he figured it made about as much sense as what was going on in the rest of this place and made the decision to not ask.
At some point, the doors, the orange carpet, and the filing cabinets all tapered off. And then the catwalks began to taper off as well, gradually fading, no longer physical things on which people could walk but what resembled a faintly glowing outline of them. As he went, the catwalks and their railing faded completely and left behind only two parallel whitish-yellowish glowing lines where the edges of the catwalk used to be. Wheatley watched in curiosity as these lines grew brighter by the minute, until eventually he could see many of these glowing lines, intersecting and forming a grid of rectangles below him. One of the rectangles up ahead was filled in with light and the Rail™ dipped straight down into it. Wheatley followed, proceeding through the opening and then-
He fell. He did not realize until he was already in the process of falling that the Rail™ had suddenly cut off, leaving him to drop helplessly onto the ground with a hard clunky crash. He cried out as he hit the floor, the impact jarring him senseless.
"Ohhhh... What happened?" he groaned, peering up at the hole in the ceiling through which he had fallen, "Not so great on the catching things either, are we, Rail™?" He rolled around in his casing, glimpsing his surroundings, but at this angle about all he could see was more of that puke orange carpet. Whose idea was it to install such an ugly carpet and why was it everywhere? Honestly. Orange. Could they have picked a worse color? Blue would have been much better.
"Uh... little help here, if You™ don't mind," Wheatley prompted, still on the floor, "I sort of fell through the floor and then I fell through the ceiling. Not quite sure how that happened, but I am down here on the floor now, at any rate. Thankfully nothing broke, I don't think, it's- it's just that it's a bit uncomfortable down here. No big deal, certainly don't want to rush You™ out of whatever reverie You™ might be in, just- whenever You™ have a minute, could You™-" A moment later, the Rail™ popped up underneath him, fixing him upon It™ as It™ did. "Thanks."
Now secured on the Rail™ - although this was a rather disconcerting vantage, being on the floor; it made him feel even smaller, more vulnerable, uncomfortable - Wheatley turned about, taking in his surroundings.
What have You™ done this time, Rail™? Where have You™ taken us?
He was in an office. A small one, one that was perhaps only slightly larger than a broom closet, but an office nonetheless. There was a long U-shaped desk along the back wall, sparsely occupied by an antiquated computer monitor; a flat-bit; a telephone; a couple of pens and pencils; an electric pencil sharpener; three plastic trays, one each in green, red, and yellow; and a white mug. There were a couple of filing cabinets; situated upon one was your average desk lamp. Hanging on one wall was an old analog clock; on another there was a single framed picture of a typical picturesque grassy landscape along with an equally typical picturesque cheerful cloudy blue sky that looked like it was probably the flimsy sample photo that came with the frame when it was bought; it was otherwise uninspiring, and certainly not mentally reinvigorating enough, to look at for very long. And, most prominently, printed on the back wall in a large yellow font was the number 427.
Wheatley squinted at it, "Huhhh, that's odd."
NO! No no no no no!
"What? It is odd. Not only is it an actual, literal odd number, but the fact that it's there means-"
Rail™, how could You™ do this? I said to bring us back to Wheatley's office, not Stanley's office. I don't understand how You™ could have possibly gotten the two confused.
Wheatley blinked, gazing around, confused about how he had gotten here, but at least he finally recognized where he was. "How in all of android hell did we get into the back admin offices?" he queried, thoroughly flummoxed by this development. He again stared up at the hole in the ceiling as if it could provide him with some answers, but all the hole did was look back at him, silent.
Do You™ delight in destroying my stories, Rail™? Hm? Is that your true purpose? You™ just like to tear apart all of my hard work?
Wheatley allowed the incessant foofaraw to slip into the background of his environmental sensors as he observed more of the office.
Printed on the floor just outside of the office door were the words "THE STANLEY PARABLE ADVENTURE LINE" (oddly without the ™), and leading out from that point was the Line™/Rail™, passing by some filing cabinets and other office doors, which were closed. The Rail™ continued through a doorway further down the hall before turning around a corner, beyond which Wheatley could see no further from his current position. Just what was going on here and what was it about this place that was making him feel so uneasy? It was just an office, nothing special about that, but it stirred up something within him that he could not quite explain. A generalized feeling of offness.
And, more to the point, are You™ actively trying to destroy us all? Get us out of here immediately! Before we are seen!
"Seen by who?" Wheatley chimed in absently, still looking around, trying to quell his own feelings of discomfort.
Anyone!
"But there doesn't seem to be anybody here," said Wheatley as he followed the Rail™ out of the office, past a couple of filing cabinets, and into the hallway next to the first set of cubicles. He paused to inspect this new area. The cubicles all had three-digit yellow numbers printed on them, too; the doors across from them, black numbers. And, most striking of all, the cubicles were all empty, devoid of the humans that would normally occupy them, which brought him to his next point, "And why should there be? The neurotoxin incident took out pretty much everyone a long time ago."
Yes, but we aren't exactly here.
"Okay," Wheatley said with a short condescending chuckle, "I think I can tell where we are. This place is where all the button-pushers used to work, you know, the humans who push buttons on their flat-bits and carry stacks of papers around everywhere, copying things, going to meetings, pointless busywork and all that. Not any of the actual brains, mind you, but the sort of- well, the lesser talented ones, right? The clerks, the admins, data entry, those sorts of folks. The ones whose kids were probably responsible for all the potato batteries downstairs."
No, no, you misunderstand me -
"Um, no," Wheatley scoffed, "I don't think I misunderstood you. You clearly said we aren't here, which.. clearly.. we are. And I'm telling you, this place-"
- is here, Aperture Science, Inc., you are right about that -
"Oh now you agree with me?"
- but it's not about where we are, it's about when.
"What do you mean 'when'? We're here right now."
Yes, and we aren't supposed to be.
"Right, because we - or at least I - don't work over in this area."
Oh... Ohhhh no. Oh no no no no. I've just realized... If the Rail™ - Line™ - is already here, then we really must get out of here immediately.
"Okay I'll be honest. I don't often admit to this - because it's not something that occurs regularly - but you've lost me."
Rail™, I don't suppose You™ and I could also call a temporary truce, could we? For the common good?
"...Still lost and waiting for you to explain."
...Well now that's just childish.
"Are you talking to me or the Rail™?"
Look, I know this doesn't affect You™ personally, seeing as You™ can apparently transcend time and space in addition to stories without any ill effects -
"Ah, must be the Rail™ then. And now I'm left talking to myself. Typical. I'll just wait here 'til you call on me."
- but we need to get out of here immediately and I am stuck with the world's most directionless idiot-
Wheatley heard the "I" word and immediately protested, "Oh now come off it! If you had just told me which way to go in the first place, I never would have gotten this far!"
I did tell you which way to go, Wheatley - gave you very specific instructions and you actively chose to disregard them. And now we are both in very real danger, along with everything and everyone else, anything you ever held dear - yes, even your precious Test Subject #2845. Remember when I told you that I would henceforth temporarily try to ensure that you do not die? This situation is very much included in that. Since the Rail™ is so hellbent on being uncooperative right now, believe me when I say that it is imperative that you hurry along through this place. No stopping to look around and ooh'ing and ahh'ing like you tend to do, just getting through here without any further delays or incidents. We'll search for an exit as we go, but for now just go.
"Well, yeah, but I still don't understand what's going on. Maybe if you explained, just a little-"
Wheatley, do as I say and go - NOW.
"Who put you in charge, huh? I'm the main character-"
And I'm the Narrator.
"Ohhh, so that means that you just get to decide on everything-"
JUST GO!
"All right, fine! I'm going!" Wheatley growled, "See? Here I go, hurrying along for His Royal Bossiness!" He put on his angriest expression: his eye plates separated only by a thin line of blue light from his optic, his panels flared open, handles pulled back away from his front as far as they could go, feeling heat from his core seethe out of him, but nevertheless got moving.
Complain all you like, just keep the volume down. And keep moving.
As he rounded the first corner and entered the next part of the office - more of the same as the room before - he groused, "Mister Bossy Wannabe Boss Pants Man. Ohhhh, I'm invisible and can't be physically injured so that gives me permission to be an arsehole and boss everyone else around! Gotta keep poor little ol' Wheatley, the main character, in the dark about everything because he's too stupid to understand. Can't even understand a little- a little bit of explaining about why the world might be coming to an end, and oh, make him do all the hard work too, push all the buttons, open all the doors, follow the Rail™, take orders because he's too stupid to find his own way through an office - zombie clones, unwritten passages, turrets speaking riddles-.."
The Rail™ wound It™s way through the offices, cutting through some hallways that had more of an unfinished look with their gray appearance and lack of carpet, through a conference room or two, some other rooms with blue carpet instead of orange, up several flights of stairs, along the wall, across the ceiling, up and over some exposed pipes, through a darkened storage room full of boxes stacked high, through a room filled wall-to-wall with filing cabinets and large labels written on the wall above them to identify what they contained, papers scattered everywhere on the floor, past a big leafy fern, back into more offices, more orange carpet, around and around and around, all the while leaving behind It™s yellow imprint while the physical part of the rail sank away; but Wheatley noticed practically none of this through all of his riled rambling.
"You know, you're even more insufferable than Her and She had the ability to kill me with a flick of her- her giant metal claws. Almost did that one time, actually, that was rather unpleasant, do not need a repeat of that. Always calling me a moron. Maybe someone ought to stuff you into a root vegetable and punch you down into a pit, throw you off your high and mighty horse. Maybe- Maybe I'll do it. Yeah. If for some reason I ever get plugged in again, that's the first thing I'll do - find your stupid high and mighty little body and show you who's the real boss." He paused in his disjointed speech and let out a huff, "What, you think I'm joking? See if I won't! See if I won't- What the- What's all this?"
Having reached the end of the Rail™, Wheatley came to an abrupt halt. Looming out in front of him, beyond the catwalk he was just now realizing he had rolled out onto, more enormous than anything he could have prepared himself for, yawned a room that was packed with television screens, showing numbers one moment, CCTV footage of various offices the next. These completely dwarfed his own monitors, the ones he had used while he was watching the lady test. He stared at them, intrigued, his anger from only moments ago snuffed out, eye darting from one screen to the next, unable to take it all in either at once or piecemeal. If he had had a mouth, it would have been currently sitting on the floor along with the rest of him.
"...What is this place?"
And then, somewhat muffled, a voice from off in the distance echoed, though it seemed to be growing closer even as it spoke, (Wait, we're... we're back at the office?!)
The sound of it punctured straight through Wheatley's dumbstruck shock and his iris widened in recognition of the voice, "Is that y-..."
Ohhh no, that's not good. We didn't get far enough ahead. Rail™, get us out of here immediately before a temporal paradox tears us all apart!
(No! No, no! Line™, You™ do know we're looking for The Stanley Parable, right?) the voice went on, even closer now, perhaps even right in the other room, (The story? Is any of this ringing a bell?)
Hurry, hurry, they mustn't see us!
"Go where? There's no way out of here but back the way we came! GAHHH!" Wheatley yelped when the world turned upside down again and this time he was falling upwards, into the same darkness that was there before he dropped down into the first office. The Rail™ caught him this time, more softly than he imagined It™ would. He made a soft hmph as he landed, miraculously right-side-up. "Okay that was just weird-"
Ssshhhhh, quiet! We mustn't be heard either!
In response, Wheatley lowered his voice, unable to help himself as the questions rapidly queued up behind his speech processor, "That voice- Is that you-.. narrating?"
Yes, which is why we must be careful.
"Huh. I didn't know you narrated other stories."
Of course I have narrated other stories. Did you honestly believe yours was the first?
"Well, to be honest I-... I hadn't thought about it, really."
Hm. Be sure to let me know where the surprise comes in, but later. Rail™, I can't believe You™ did all of this-
"So what's the deal with being all covert like this? Are you going to finally explain anything to me?"
Just keep your voice down. This whole situation is highly unstable. If we are discovered here, it could not only destroy both stories, but all time going forward and backward. In fact, I'm surprised our presence alone has not caused things to fall apart already, so I can't stress enough how important it is for us not to be seen or heard.
Wheatley couldn't help but grin, feeling a bit malicious after everything, in spite of everything, "What, are you afraid you're going to try to narrate yourself?"
It really is quite amazing how little you absorb of what is going on around you. Truly. It's a talent in and of itself. I would offer you an Achievement for it, but I doubt it would- uh! Quiet now!
As Wheatley peered down from above, a human - a man, from the looks of it - came walking through the door and out onto the catwalk overlooking the monitor room where Wheatley had been only moments before. The man stopped and turned his head, looking around, seeming lost or confused, but otherwise remained silent, even as the Other Narrator began to loudly complain,
(Oh, no, no, no, no, not again! Line™, how could You™ have done this to us, and after we trusted You™!)
There was the briefest of moments where Wheatley was able to take in the man's appearance. Overall he was wholly unremarkable; plain; average; boring, some might have even said, though Wheatley thought all humans looked the same anyway. He was of average height and weight, as far as Wheatley had gathered from his time spent with other humans. He had short dark hair - either brown or black, Wheatley could not tell from this distance - light skin, a nose that looked a little too big for his face, and he was dressed in a whitish collared button-up shirt that was not tucked in, black slacks, and black shoes of some kind. It was hard for Wheatley to see the rest of the man's face, partly due to the fact that the man was looking every which way but up, but even without this detail he looked plenty alive and healthy, healthy enough to be up and walking around anyway. Had one of the admins or order clerks or paper-pushers survived after all this time? Survived and what, continued going about his work like nothing had happened to all of his coworkers? It didn't seem possible for this to be the case, but there he was, all the same.
It was so strange, but not as strange as the sudden powerful urge he had that he should do something, intervene somehow. Wheatley shifted on the Rail™, leaning downward to get a better look, squinting and maximizing his optical zoom -
Wheatley, what are you-
"I just want to see-"
(After everything we've been through, You™ -..)
-doing?! Get back!
"Hold on, he looks distressed-"
- when there came a single sharp creak from one of the joints where he was attached to the Rail™ and the man's eyes all at once snapped upwards in pursuit of the noise, widening in surprise.
You idiot! Get back now!
Surprised himself and completely on reflex, Wheatley obeyed and jerked himself back up on the Rail™, settling back into the shadows. There was a second or two where the man's eyes scanned where Wheatley had just been, apparently unable to locate him in his current position. Wheatley could now see that they - the man's eyes - were just as dark as his hair. They appeared haunted, tired, afflicted, some other human emotion Wheatley could not identify, almost ghostly, the ambient transitional flashing lights from the hundreds of monitors throwing the hollows of his features into stark contrast. Wheatley blinked at the intensity of it, feeling a pang go through him, zoomed his optical settings back out.
He was just about to suggest that they should do something, help the man as he appeared to be trapped, the lady's voice - well, what Wheatley imagined she'd sound like anyway: quiet, unassuming, soft spoken but assertive, with his accent, of course - dictating this loud and clear in his mind, when the Other Narrator spoke again -
(-Oh, I can't take this anymore. To hell with it. Restart.)
- and the man, along with the yellow imprint of the Rail™ below, vanished.
- 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 80%. Proceed with extreme caution.