- 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 -
Welcome back, dear Reader. We are sorry to have put you through that, and We apologize for the deception on Our part. There was truly nothing you could have done to save Wheatley and the lady, whether you continued reading that part or not. It was already foretold, already written, all part of the plan, as is what happens next. You see, the truth is, We do not always have complete control here either - We must go where the story and the characters take Us. Trust Us when We say that they do not always listen.
Please continue reading - Wheatley and the lady do need you, as do We. While you cannot change things, We still need you in order for the story to be told. After all, if you are not there to listen, is there much of a story at all?
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Wheatley found himself sitting on his management rail in the middle of a long corridor, appearing to stretch out endlessly in both directions. Below him were the typical catwalks that were common throughout Aperture, but several of the features accompanying the catwalks were decidedly uncommon. For one, there was more of that ugly orange carpet that he swore would be too soon if he ever had to see it again. Placed sporadically on the catwalks were identical four-tiered filing cabinets, looking as if they had been copied and pasted there over and over. And lining the corridor on both sides were neat, uniform rows of closed doors, equidistant from one another, all of them labeled in black with the number 427.
He blinked, picking a direction and moving forward on his rail, trying to figure out how he had gotten here, back into these strange dark hallways where nothing seemed to make any sense. And speaking of not making any sense, hadn't he just been dying? He swore he had been, swore that it involved - frankly - ridiculously enormous amounts of deadly corrosive acid. He could even swear he still felt a tingling sensation crawling through his circuits, like pins and needles, remnants of the burn from the acid for sure. It was the strangest thing because obviously he wasn't dead - he was here, after all, and this was real, wasn't it?
In either case, he didn't have time to be wandering these directionless corridors, puzzling through this nonsense. He had to get back to the lady - she still needed him, needed his help getting around safely and escaping, and he couldn't help her from here, wherever he was. Well, not so much "wherever" he was - this did all look somewhat familiar to him, but it did very little in the way of telling him where exactly he needed to go. He passed closed door after closed door, filing cabinet after filing cabinet, searching for something, anything to tell him how to get out of here and back to the lady, but everything just kept repeating, leaving him without any point of reference.
As he wandered around with growing impatience, he turned a corner and there, right in front of him, lay the last thing he ever expected to see - the Adventure Line™, reprising It™s role as the Rail™, plain as day and bright as could be, as if It™ had been sitting there waiting for him. He cried out in surprise and joy and moved quickly over to It™, placing himself on It™ and feeling It™s old familiar warmth absorb into him, filling him from the inside out and easing the residual pain from the acid.
He wanted to tell the Rail™ how sorry he was for letting It™ down, for dying again - which was a strange thought, because he could hardly place whether that had really happened or not - for letting It™ die, and also for letting the lady down, again. He wanted to say all these things but for some reason he was unable to speak, as if something had happened to his voice synthesizer and he was silenced in this place. It didn't seem to matter, though, because the Rail™ responded to him anyway, calling him forward to follow It™.
Wheatley, of course, obliged and followed the Rail™ through the corridors, just like old times, and he no longer felt lost. Why would he? The Rail™ always knew where It™ was going. It™ led him through the never-ending corridors, branching off each other like a spider's web, ever-expanding outward towards an end he wasn't even sure existed.
Finally, up ahead he noticed that the Rail™ took a sharp right turn into the only open door he had seen so far. Without a moment's hesitation, he went straight into it and suddenly he was falling through darkness - or rather, not so much falling, but instead being pushed through the darkness. He could feel it contracting around him, so near a caress it eased any fears he had of landing hard and breaking open on whatever surface awaited him.
He looked back up and caught one last glimpse of the edge of the catwalk and the Rail™ looking down at him as he sank away, almost as if It™ was waving goodbye to him, and then -
- they approached one of the automatic doors and the lady carried him through once it opened. As it closed behind them, Wheatley's optic flew open and he gasped, "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!". And then his eye rolled back and he began seizing.
WHAT.
At once, the lady stopped, knelt down, and released him from the end of her portal gun. As he thrashed about, he felt her hands placed firmly on the side of his hull, attempting to steady him even as his panels popped out at random and his optic rolled and his eye plates fluttered helplessly. He could hear her breathing more rapidly than she usually did and tried to tell her he was okay, but obviously he wasn't because he couldn't even begin to get the words out.
Finally, the lady must have had enough, because in all her infinite wisdom and repertoire of problem-solving skills, her solution was to do the same thing every human did when faced with a piece of mechanical equipment that wasn't working properly - she hit him.
"Oww!" Wheatley cried out, confused and overwhelmed by the assault on his senses.
Excuse me - WHAT are you doing here?! I killed you! I killed you again and yet here you are - again!
"Why are you- Who are you- Don't- don't hit me again, please!"
Wheatley, what have you DONE?!
"Wh-.. What do you m-mean?" he breathed shakily, beginning to calm down as the treatment the lady had administered knocked him out of whatever crazy feedback loop he had somehow gotten himself into.
You know what I mean! You know because you are here when you are supposed to be DEAD! You must have done something! You must have BROKEN something!
Simulating heavy breaths and trying to regain his bearings, Wheatley eased open his optic and gazed blearily at the lady from behind half-lidded eye plates.
"I haven't done anyth- Oh, it's- it's you!" he gasped upon seeing the lady there, racked with so much horror and relief and about a zillion other emotions he couldn't even begin to make sense of. She was still holding him between her hands as if he might up and roll away. And her normally stoic, guarded expression had peeled back to reveal a layer of concern - perhaps even worry or care, he was admittedly surprised to see. "Thank God you're here! I thought you were-.. I mean, I-I-I-I'm sorry, luv, I don't- I don't know what that was or what that was all about. I think I'm all right, though, if you're ready to continue."
But there was no fooling her. The lady pressed her hands tighter against him and gave him a hard look.
"All right, all right, don't squeeze so hard, I'm not a pimple. Actually, that was a pretty gross comparison, I apologize, but it was a fair one, I think. Just- just give.. give me minute, then. I'll- I need to- I'll run a quick diagnostic, see if there's- if there's anything to be concerned about, and then I'll report back right quick. How's that? Would that make you feel better?"
She gave a curt nod.
Wheatley sighed, "All right, then, luv, just sit tight a moment, this will only take a sec."
And he went limp, though he continued to tremble and breathe deeply as he came down from his epileptic state. He wasn't really running any diagnostics, but he was happy to use this moment as an opportunity to gather himself anyway.
What the heck had just happened?
That is precisely what I want to know, Wheatley. What did you DO? HOW did you do whatever it is you did?
He did not respond to the voice. He had no response to give. He had no idea how he had survived, what he did, or if indeed he had done anything at all. One moment he was submerged in a veritable ocean of acid, feeling himself break down and dissolve into slurry, and the next he was back on the end of the portal gun, all in one piece.
Are you going to answer me, Wheatley?
He squeezed his eye plates tighter and choked back a hard shudder. He was comforted slightly by the fact that the lady was still there with him, but it could not take away the feeling of what had happened - the fear, the pain, the sheer agony of losing everything again, of letting down the lady again, although everything appeared to be in order now. How that had all come to pass, he still did not know. All he knew was that here he was, being given another chance and this time he really couldn't mess up. The escape pod had been a poor idea - both times. This time he would have to-
Fine, I can appreciate the fact that you are not exactly able to respond freely to me here, but as soon as you are over this little spasm of yours, you will get back to the story, and when you do, very soon you and I will have a chance to talk and sort out this whole wretched ordeal. Until then, don't try to escape again - I believe it's been made clear to you by now that you can't.
"Right," he said, blinking his eye back open. The lady was looking at him expectantly. "All right, luv, I think figured out what the, um, problem was - had a couple of files knocked out of place by that fall I took. Now, it's nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all, it was an easy fix, just ran some defragmenting protocols and set everything back in order. Seriously, luv, please stop worrying. I promise all's back to normal - uh, well, in a manner of speaking, because I'm not quite sure what's actually normal anymore. I mean, this whole situation is abnormal, innit? You were in cryosleep for who knows how long while I was slee- I mean sitting in my booth, sitting, observing, doing my job, minding my own business, and then the whole place was blowing up, and now it's not, and now we're- we're on our way to escaping, and-... and, uh... Where was I?"
The lady sighed and gave him an impatient tap on the side of his hull.
"Oh! Right, so, everything is back in order and I'm ready to go now. Again, sorry about all that. Anyway, let's- let's get back on track, shall we? Actually, where were we? Oh, right! Okay, so just through here is Her chamber. Now, there's no need for us to look around for any alternate routes - already did that, you see. Y- well, I know you didn't - not this time 'round - but I already did - before, back- before we met, see. I scoped out the place once upon a time just in case I were to ever team up with a human to escape, you know, to get a sense of our options. And right now we're fresh out of those - options, that is. So, just go on ahead into Her chamber and then if you'll head over to that area over by the incinerator, it'll take us straight to the main breaker room and, and then-.. and then... Um, I'll have a better idea once we get there. All right? Let's go."
The lady nodded, seeming satisfied by his return to what would be considered a normal demeanor for him. She followed his directions and soon they were back at where they had been not too long ago, at least from Wheatley's perspective. She plugged him into the breaker control port and then... he just sat there.
"Just a moment, I'm just having a look around and trying to think of what we should do next," he said upon seeing her questioning look. He then began muttering to himself, "Okay, so, no escape pod this time, definitely not going through that mess again. The other option is to- no no, we really don't want to do that. Suppose I could try hacking it again? No, no, that was absolutely pointless last time, all it did was make things worse. Well, then, it seems the only other option really is-... Oh God, I really don't want to-..." He paused and let out a nervous sigh, looking at the lady in defeat. "Okay look, um... I know you won't understand what I'm talking about, but I just want to make something very clear right here, right now, before we continue. Whatever happens, whatever might happen here, it's not your fault and everything is going to be okay. Okay?"
The lady's eyebrows came together and she adjusted her stance in what must have been her hundredth confused look since meeting him. Understandably so, because from her perspective Wheatley was speaking nothing but nonsense.
Regardless, he went on, "It's not your fault, luv, and don't think, for one second, that it is. It is what it is, apparently it must happen, and I, in no way, blame you. Ever. So.. So- don't you ever think that - that it's your fault. Understand? Er, well, of course you don't understand, even though you do understand since it's been established that you can understand me, it's just- You know what, just- just hold on."
Wheatley took in a breath and started up the breaker control platform, feeling his core flutter inside of him as everything came on and the platform began its ascent, flipping all of the breakers back on in the process. He tried to keep his breathing steady as this happened, even while the lady was back on guard and looking around in uncertainty.
"It's all right, luv. Everything's going to be okay, I promise," he said, trying to soothe her as best he could even while his own insides were doing somersaults.
The platform completed its ascent, leveling out at the top of the breaker shaft, revealing the mangled remains of Her, which were beginning to shift, sway, and slither around like massive formidable snakes, pulling themselves together to complete a truly grim portrait.
While all this was going on, the lady started towards him to help him off the port, presumably to get them both out of there before the inevitable happened. Wheatley shook his handles at her, waving her away, "No no no, leave me here, it's- it's okay, luv. It's all going to be okay, remember? Don't panic - just don't panic and everything will be-"
And then the air around them turned to ice. "Oh. It's you."
"Everything will be okay, luv. Okay? It's all okay. It's all okay. It's all okay," he whispered urgently to the lady, though she was too busy scowling at her former - now once again present - adversary to pay his ramblings much mind.
"It's been a long time. How have you been? I've been really busy being dead - you know, after you MURDERED ME," She went on, Her voice laced with such cold malice it instantly reminded Wheatley exactly why he was so afraid of Her. It was so profound that even as he tried his best to contain himself, to not let on just how scared he was, to calm the lady down - even as he knew what was coming and knew he had chosen to go through with it anyway - the murderous AI still filled him with complete, unparalleled terror.
Giant metal claws descended from some unseen place far above and plucked up both himself and the lady, neat as you please, like a pair of cheap toys in a claw machine. The lady lost her grip on the portal gun; it fell, sparking as it impacted the ground. She began to struggle to get loose, although of course it was useless - the iron grip on her was too precise, too firm to ever allow her escape - alive, anyway.
Wheatley trembled and shook in spite of himself, kept repeating, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," all while Her grip on him tightened, taking his artificial breath away, and the lady's struggling increased.
"Okay, look -"
There was a moment where the lady's contemptuous glare broke away from Hers, flicked over, and met his own fearful one. In her silvery gray eyes, usually so calm, cool, and collected, for just a moment he could see his own anxiety reflected, uncertainty in the future and what was going to happen in the next few seconds. Seeing this gave him the strength he needed to lift his bottom eye plate up in a smile meant solely for her, his last effort at conveying to her that everything was going to be okay -
"- We both said a lot of things you're going to regret."
- and then he felt, as well as heard, a sickening crunch run through him and his whole world exploded in pain. Bits of him bent and snapped and popped out of place, utterly crushed like an insect, leaving him just as mangled as She had been only moments before. The pain was terrible and overwhelming, every bit as bad as he remembered it, but it was okay. It was okay. It was going to be okay.
All of his senses began to fail. His CPU slowed to a crawl, unable to process the amount of pain he was in and damage he had sustained. He could hear Her speaking, but he could not make out the words - just as well, She was probably just intimidating the lady some more. And the last thing he saw, just before his vision winked out and he was tossed aside like the useless piece of garbage he was always afraid of being, was the look of utter horror and dismay on the lady's face. He couldn't help but wonder if that look had been there last time.
He felt himself being flung through the air, sailing somewhere off to the side to be forgotten, landed hard, and then there was darkness.
- 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 -
WARNING: Narrative Contradiction levels at 38%. Proceed with moderate caution.