The Wheatley Parable Chapter 29: The Not-So-Zending, a Portal + Stanley Parable Crossover fanfic

- 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 -

-this instant!

"No!"

There really is no point to this, you realize - you running away. No matter what you do, no matter where you go, the story will still be there waiting for you.

"I don't care! I'm not going back, not if it means betraying the lady like that again!"

Wheatley came to an abrupt stop when he turned a corner and right there waiting for him was one of those out-of-place red brick walls, blocking his path. He narrowed his eye shutters in a scowl at it, turned around, and picked another direction.

You being plugged in is an essential part of the story, Wheatley. Honestly, what do you hope to gain by running away like this? Eventually you will have to go back to the story and complete it, otherwise everything will break down and the whole story will cease to exist, you along with it. And before that happens, Test Subject #2845 will die - painfully. Is that what you want? To sit there and watch her suffer and die just as you watched all those other humans suffer and die?

"No! Go away! Just- Just leave me alone!" Wheatley hissed.

I'm afraid I will not "go away" and "leave you alone", Wheatley. We have a story to see through to its completion, together, you and I.

"'You and I'? 'You and I'?! Ha! You and I aren't anything! It's always been about you and the story!" Wheatley seethed in response as he moved quickly along his rail, not really sure what he was looking for or where he was going - nothing and nowhere in particular, just whatever it took to keep him away from this invisible lunatic and his equally lunatic, albeit visible, story, "Story this and story that! You're worse than Spacey, I swear, just plain worse, and all he ever did was talk about space! Literally, all the time, just the word 'SPACE', over and over! And occasionally some other words thrown in there to break things up a bit, but mostly just 'SPACE'!"

Comparing me to the Space Core, hm?

"Yeah! Only he was a thousand times better than you could ever be! He may have been obnoxious and obsessed with space and never bloody shut up about it, but at least he never threw anyone into an incinerator or blew them up with a reactor core or tried to force them to conform to someone else's shoddy idea of a story! And believe me - that's all it is, shoddy!"

If we're going to be drawing such comparisons, then let's have a moment to talk about you for a change, shall we?

Wheatley came upon another brick wall, thoroughly solid and stacked from catwalk to ceiling, allowing for no way through even if he hadn't been completely reliant on his rail for transportation.

"Fuck!" he snarled, all joy at being granted his singular use of the F-bomb eclipsed by the utter inconvenience that had prompted him to say it in the first place thus essentially wasting it. "I mean- GAH!"

Ope, there goes your only F-bomb. I hope it was worth it to you. Personally I would have saved it for something a little more exciting than a stationary brick wall.

Wheatley snapped, "Enough with the brick walls already!" -

Yes, quite right, enough with the brick walls - let's talk about you, since this story is allllll about you, right? All about poor little misunderstood Wheatley, and about nothing or nobody else.

- before reversing and looking for another way out of this mess, if there even was a way out. He didn't know. Everything around this place always looked the same, and a quick check of his internal map software confirmed what he already knew - that there were no exits. Still, he had to try, because he knew - he knew - there was no way he was ever going back to the story, no matter what. No matter what, even if-

Let's talk about how selfish you are. How utterly, totally, unabashedly selfish you are. A selfish little core who thinks he's more important than he really is. And who thinks he's smarter than he really is. Oh, and cowardly. Let's not forget that one. In total, a selfish idiotic coward, concerned only about himself. Running off not once, not twice, not even three times, but many times to leave your only friend behind to die while you do anything you can to avoid responsibility. What responsibility, you ask? How about your responsibility not only to her as the last test subject, but to all that you did to her when you were in charge of the facility.

"Responsibility?!" Wheatley spat. "You want to talk about responsibility?! How about your responsibility as the Narrator to make sure this whole story even makes sense! Why would you have gone through all this elaborate set-up just to build up to this particular moment, huh?! Just to repeat everything!" Wheatley could feel his insides burning, lit by a pure vitriolic anger he had not felt since being plugged in, a thought which only made him more angry. "I had every intention of making it right - every intention - and- and maybe I hadn't figured out how just yet, but yes I was going to make it right, but you had to muck up everything by just bloody repeating the story from the first time around!"

He then gasped as an open-ended Vent suddenly emerged from the ever-present misty abyss that yawned below the catwalks and swung unexpectedly in his direction, every bit as menacing as a massive venomous snake poised to strike - more so, in fact, as a venomous snake would have had no effect on Wheatley while a highly-suctioned Vent most certainly would have an effect. Reacting purely on instinct - pushing his processor to its limits, however short those limits may have been - he managed to duck under it just in time to avoid being sucked up and spat out who-knew-where in the facility - probably into another pit of acid or something else as equally painful - and sped through a doorway into another room.

Oh but Wheatley, you've missed the whole point of the story, not that I can say I am surprised by that. You've had multiple opportunities to make it all right, including this last recent failure of yours. Dare I even say you were beginning to make real progress towards your redemption. You've come so far... only to now let it all go to waste. You should stop running as you aren't getting anywhere, by the way.

Wheatley glanced around at his surroundings only to find that this was true. But that was weird. He swore he had just gone through a doorway, leaving behind the massive Vents, but here he was, back in the area with the Vents again. And speaking of Vents, another one came roaring up out of the misty abyss after him. The same one as before? He couldn't tell at this point and it didn't matter anyway. A yell of surprise burst out of him and he ran from it, back through the same doorway as a moment ago -

The problem is all these choices, wouldn't you agree? Always you running and running and running, making all these bad and oftentimes irrelevant choices, just the way you're doing right now.

- only to find that moments later he was back with the Vents.

Don't you see that it's getting you nowhere, Wheatley?

We can do this all day if you wish - or, well, at least until the story breaks down and you die, whichever comes first.

- only to find that moments later he was back with the Vents.

Is the point still lost on you, or is it you who is lost?

- only to find that moments later he was back with the Vents.

He growled in frustration - Get out of here, he had to get out of here, find a way out! - and, after dodging the Vent for the umpteenth time, decided to take his rail down, trailing along with the serpentine tube. It pursued him immediately, his steep angle forcing it to bend back on itself in a way it really was not designed to do. He heard it creaking and even shattering from the pressure and crashing into other things as it struggled after him, unable to catch him.

At last he seemed to pull free from whatever loop he had been caught in back there and followed his rail through a small gap and into a tunnel meant to be used only by cores like him, as a means to get them between areas of the facility quicker. Back in the day this tunnel and all tunnels like it would have been filled with cores running about their business, but now it was utterly dead and deserted, as dead and deserted as the rest of the facility, the only living parts being the organic flora that had infiltrated it long ago.

Wheatley cruised through all the mossy tendrils without paying them much mind. Behind him, he could hear the shrill sound of glass shattering, presumably as the tube smashed into the wall as it tried in vain to pursue him through the opening.

What is you want, Wheatley? What will it take for you to trust in the story? Spoilers? I've told you before that those won't help you, but I suppose you've given me no choice at this point. I didn't want to say this before, because it would have negated the entire point of the story, your impetus, your redemption, but fine, I will say it now. I will go ahead and reveal the endgame to you if that will make you more comfortable.

Wheatley only narrowed his eye in response. Responding to the voice was pointless at, well, this point. And besides, in a split-second moment of clarity, he realized the admiration he felt for the lady and how she approached the taunts from the scary boss lady by simply denying them a response altogether. At first, back at the beginning, he had honestly thought that her unfortunate brain damage prevented her from understanding such slights against her. But now he knew better. Now he knew that she was deliberately ignoring the boss lady, to exert some sense of control over an otherwise uncontrollable situation - at least, that is how Wheatley took it. After all, she had responded to him while simultaneously ignoring Her.

Yes, he decided he quite liked her approach and decided to go ahead and try it on for size, in her honor. He was sure she would have been as proud of him as he was of her, even if he was on the run because he knew she too would be running away, at least until she could confront the threat head-on. And for sure Wheatley would do that - he would take on the Narrator if he could, if he could just find a way...

You were to be plugged in again, yes, but this time you were not to betray the lady, instead to actually help her escape as you had intended the first time. I had it all laid out for you, Wheatley. All of it planned down to the finest detail, ready to make you shine the way you have always wanted. You and Test Subject #2845 would have pledged your allegiance to one another; you set the lift to go to the surface on a delayed timer; you eject yourself from the mainframe so as to get into the lift with her; and then up to the surface you both go. And at the end of it all, music would have then come in as you and the lady strolled off into the sunset, and then roll credits.

Wheatley hesitated, quietly crouching in the darkened tunnel lit only by the beam of his flashlight. Could what the Narrator said be true? Could he have really ejected himself from the mainframe, gotten into the elevator with the lady, and made it to the surface with her after all? He had even suggested as much upon being plugged in on the first time through, but why hadn't he done it? His thoughts struggled to process it all, to recall exactly what had happened at that moment. He remembered how at first he had definitely intended on getting her to the surface - he had even called down the lift for her and began raising it to the surface for her. And then something had changed. Something inside of him had physically changed. The Itch. He remembered feeling it pierce into him, bleeding through his circuits and telling him that he had to begin testing right away. And there, conveniently, was the lady at his disposal.

It was true that the Itch had played a part in what he had done - a large part, if he was honest. Maybe not so much the Itch itself but the reward he received once a test was completed. And when was the last time, up until that point, he had ever felt so good? Never, he supposed. That had been the real driving factor for him at that point - that sharp, sweet dose of euphoria that never hung around long enough, especially later on.

There. The whole story has been spoiled for you. Now does any of that make any difference to you? Does it have the same effect now that you've been told what was going to happen? Is it really redemption for you now that both you and our audience know the whole ending?

But no, it was more than that. It wasn't just the Itch. It was... something else inside of him too, something dark and angry and resentful, something that had been waiting just below the surface for an opportunity to take what he believed he had earned. He had always worked so hard, he had always put all of himself into everything he did, he had always been shunted aside, he had always been told that he was nothing, nobody, that he would always be nothing and nobody. And then there She was, reiterating all of this to him, driving the point home. He was done feeling like a puppet, like a cast-off, a failure, like he had no purpose of his own but only to serve others. Interacting with a bloody button interface in a tiny cubicle all day. He wanted others to serve him for a change. And then the feeling that the lady had betrayed him, used him, and then cast him aside just like all those scientists and everyone else had done... He had misplaced all of this onto her, not only onto someone who had never in any way had a hand in any of what had happened to him, but the only person who had never done him any wrong at all, ever. The only person who had ever trusted him.

Or do you think you can't handle being plugged in again? That you will betray her again, even after everything you have been through now?

That was the question, wasn't it? Would he, for one reason or another, betray the lady if he was to be plugged in again? He didn't know. Didn't want to know. What he did know was that if there was even a remote chance that he would do that all again, then he could never allow himself to be plugged in again.

Really, Wheatley, whose fault would that be, if you were to betray her again - mine, or yours?

Besides, he was almost 100% certain that the Narrator was lying, just straight up lying to manipulate him into doing what he wanted. He had no proof - save for the history of their time together thus far - but he knew it, could feel it in his core. He knew it as well as he knew that he would die for the lady. Hell, he had already done it, and he knew he could do it again, if it came to that, even if he never had a chance to fess up and make things right with her. That wasn't important anymore - what was important was protecting her at all costs, even if it was from himself. Especially from himself.

Oh, my mistake, you have already betrayed her again by running away and leaving her behind to die like this. How's that for a spoiler, Wheatley? Perhaps it's one you will better understand. Let me put it this way: If you are not there to meet Test Subject #2845 in Test Chamber #21, the Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System will unleash neurotoxin on her and kill her. And trust me, it will be very painful for her. By running away like this, you are signing her death certificate - printing and signing it, notarizing it, making copies in triplicate, laminating the copies, and then putting them on display for all to see. But you already know that, don't you?

No, Wheatley did not know this. Again, he was nearly certain the Narrator was lying to him about everything. Wasn't he? Yes, he had to be. The lady was smart, flexible, intuitive - she would find a way out without him. And if at some point neurotoxin did become involved, he had every bit of faith that she would escape that, too. Maybe they could even meet up ahead somewhere and he could explain everything to her... if he ever got out of this, that was.

Hmm. I wonder what her last thoughts will be? "My idiotic robot friend fell through on his promise, I never should have trusted him to begin with, and now I'm going to die because of him." I imagine her thoughts will be very close to that, at least until they quickly switch over to, "Oh God, someone help me, I'm suffocating, I'm in agonizing pain, the worst pain I have ever felt, please, my lungs are burning and my body feels like it is twisting itself into a pretzel, I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" ...But what will it matter to you, right? She will be dead and you will be safe - but not for long as the story falls apart around you and then it'll be your turn to die, painfully and permanently.

Wheatley only further ignored the voice, even though it was becoming physically painful for him as the directives piled up behind his speech processor. He pressed on in all of these endeavors until he emerged from the other side of the tunnel into a corridor that traveled among some of the human offices, puke orange carpet glaring up at him. These weren't the same as the back admin offices, but were some of the smaller labs and offices where the humans in this part of the facility spent their days working and tinkering around with whatever science there was to do for that week. As to be expected, they were all silent and empty.

I hope you're happy, Wheatley. I hope you're happy that you've ruined not only my story but your chances of ever making things up to the lady. You were supposed to trust in the story, trust in me, but you can't even do that, can you? Even though everything I have ever told you has come to pass exactly as I said it would, you still won't trust in the story.

Wheatley went on ignoring the berating and pushed his way forward through the offices. He checked his map and noticed that several dark spots had come up in his vicinity, the same as the holes that had appeared when he had gone off-story the first time. Those had been something else, something disturbing, and not something he really wished to experience again. All in all, he wasn't sure if that was where he wanted to go, but-.. No, actually, that would be perfect - the Narrator couldn't touch him there, that much he knew for sure.

Wheatley, where are you even going? There is nothing back here for you.

Wheatley gave no response, only narrowed his eye plates together in concentration, now shaking with the discomfort of overriding his speech directives, and continued towards the dark spot on his map.

Are you really giving me the silent treatment? After all your ceaseless blathering the rest of the way here? Hmm. Now that is interesting. You're no better than Stanley, though if I may be honest here, the silent protagonist type really doesn't look good on you, Wheatley. I'm frankly surprised you've been able to keep your mouth shut for so long, but then again you do seem to be allocating all of your 1.1 volts into your own cowardice as opposed to explaining yourself. It's actually quite an impressive feat for you. Here, have an Achievement.

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: Congratulations! You're a Silent Protagonist!

Wheatley ignored it, focused solely on moving forward.

No? Nothing? Oh, well, how about this one instead?

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: You've kept your mouth shut for more than five seconds at a time!

Wheatley seethed, wanting to respond-.. and resisted.

Again, nothing? Not even a "Hooray" from you? Now I really am impressed.

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: Impress the Narrator

Oooh, now that one is a rare Achievement, truly rare indeed. Less than 2% of fictional characters have ever impressed me. Regardless, it's time to turn back, now - you are only drawing this whole thing out.

He was getting close now, all he had to do was make it to the end of this hallway...

The end of this hallway...

Wait, this hallway which seemed to be stretching itself out longer and longer as he traversed it. .

What the hell was happening? More than a little freaked out by this unusual development, Wheatley paused, looking to his left. There, the door read PRIMATE STUDIES in a bold, black font, with a small disclaimer printed beneath it claiming that (non-human primates have received formal training via instructional videos and the humans have been humanely euthanized before being studied). On his right, the door read RADIOLOGY, (please stop taking the radios from this lab, we can't afford to keep replacing them).

Okay. All seemed normal there.

He resumed moving forward and there was that weird stretching thing again.

He looked to the left, and there again was PRIMATE STUDIES, even though he should have passed it by now. And on his right, RADIOLOGY. He tried moving forward again, only for the results to be duplicated. Thoroughly flummoxed, Wheatley checked his map and saw that the hallway was somehow lengthening itself while in fact remaining the same length, like a rubber band. He was literally moving in place, progressing while not actually progressing at all.

Everything comes down to choice, doesn't it? You aren't even supposed to be making choices and yet here you are really choosing to throw it all away, all of your progress, all of everything.

Yes, in a sense he was choosing to throw it all away - all the commands, the mind games. To him, this, what he was doing, was progress. Allowing himself to continue being manipulated, following by the rules of the game, repeating the same story all over again... all of that would be the opposite.

Very well, then. Since you are so dead set on making choices, let me present you with none other than a choice, then. A very clear, concise, visible choice for you, just to make things easier for you to compute since comprehensive instructions such as "GO BACK" do not seem to work with you.

The hallway suddenly shortened - or rather, stopped lengthening.

Wheatley blinked. Everything seemed normal again. When he resumed moving forward, he passed by the closed doors just like he would in a normal world that made physical sense. Something was different, though. The dark spot was still there - thankfully - but something new had appeared in front of it.

Here's your chance to impress me further and receive the possibility of a remote chance of receiving another Achievement from me. I really do want to help you, Wheatley. To see you safely through to the end of the story. I'll even prove it to you by being a good sport and giving you one final chance to put that choice-making ability of yours to good use and actually make the correct choice for a change.

Up ahead, he could see that his rail split off into two directions - on the left, there was a red rail; on the right, a blue rail.

Now, I know you'll want to hear of your options before making your choice, so I will go ahead and reveal to you what those options are. The red rail will lead you directly back to the story, where you will be able to rejoin where you left off and continue forward as planned, and there you will be able to find your so-desired redemption. The blue rail... well, the blue rail doesn't lead you back to the story and that is all you really need to know. Now, listen closely, as this next choice is crucial.

Wheatley took the red rail.

With a grimace, Wheatley advanced and instead took the-

Aha. Perhaps you misunderstood. Not to worry. If there has anything you have taught me, Wheatley, it's patience. So let's try this again.

Wheatley took the red rail.

With a head shake, Wheatley proceeded onto the b-

I still don't think we're communicating properly, but here, I will even spell it out for you. Three little letters, very simple. R-E-D. Red. Used in a sentence, you might say, "This apple is red." And I am not even asking for you to understand the whole sentence, just the word "red". Okay? Here we go.

Wheatley took the R-E-D rail.

With a boost of vigor, Wheatley rushed towards the bl-

Wha- Really?!

-ue rail, completely negating any and all opportunities to make up for his blunders.

You're really going to choose incorrectly again, after I laid it all out for you?! You really do have zero consideration for others, namely myself and the lady. And the story! I can't believe you are so convinced that this is all going to end so badly. Well, let me tell you, it most certainly will now.

Wheatley followed the blue rail until it reached a staircase, where it turned back into its typical gray color. And then there was darkness, which admittedly caught him off guard. He activated his flashlight and peered around, but when he saw a whole lot more of nothing, he peeked at his internal map again. He was back in the darkness, the void, the unwritten territory, where anything could happen.

He took a second to process that the rail followed the stairs up into a steep, right-angled spiral, seeming to go on without end. It took him less time than that to decide to pursue it.

Wheatley, I'm done playing these games. Stop this nonsense and head back to the story - NOW.

He ignored the voice and continued through the nothingness, going as fast as he could, as his rail began doing that whole appearing-only-in-small-bits-and-pieces-at-a-time thing again.

There is nothing here for you, absolutely nothing, as you can plainly see! If you get lost here, that will be that - the end, nothing more, do you understand? The Line™ isn't even around to guide you out of here this time!

But something burned inside of Wheatley, something that reminded him an awful lot of the warmth the Line™ gave off. It urged him forward, somehow inexplicably telling him that this was right, this was the correct path.

Wheatley continued following his rail up, up and up, up and up and up, until the rail stopped and he could not see a single thing around, except for the small section of rail on which he sat and the accompanying staircase he had just ascended. He couldn't even see the ceiling, nor anything below, not even that signature spooky, misty Aperture abyss. It reminded him of his stint in space, full of nothing but stars and other celestial bodies, except this place had none of that. There appeared to be nothing at all, except for..

Wheatley, I need you to listen to me, really, actually listen to me this time. You need to-... oh.

..-except for a single white speck, like light shining through a tiny hole pricked into a thick black blanket.

Oh, wait. Wait, hang on, what's this?

At first Wheatley thought that the speck was drawing nearer, and a powerful sense of alarm ran through him, curling through his circuits, freezing him in place. Perhaps taking the blue rail hadn't been such a great idea after all. But as he watched he realized it was simply growing bigger, shining brighter, though remaining small. A serene, ethereal light emitted from it, comforting now that Wheatley was getting a better look at it. It didn't seem so threatening after all. In fact, it seemed to be inviting him to look at it, to stare at it.

I-... I think I know what this is.

And then another light appeared, twinkling into existence. As he watched, more and more appeared. They seemed to multiply like stray thoughts, a thousand points of light, soft and benign. He was back among the stars after all, only this time he felt more at peace. This time, he felt rather okay with staying here forever, drifting among them, becoming one.

It's-... It's... Could it be...?

All at once, a celestial hum reverberated throughout the non-room. At the same time, much larger globes and blobs of light sprang forth from the ether, closer to him, animated while the far-off pinpricks of white light remained stationary. They shifted and danced, falling and reforming and falling again around him in all directions. And they were changing colors, giving off a luminescent glow that softened from white to pink, to red, to orange, transitioning through the whole spectrum.

Yeeeeeessss! It is! This place! I've been searching for this place for years! And now I've finally found it! It was right here all along! Ahahahaaaa! I can't believe I've found it! This is wonderful! This place feels great, don't you think, Wheatley?

Finally, the dam behind his speech processor broke, although in his awe only a trickle of words made their way through. "I-.. I, I-I-I..." Wheatley breathed, trailing off into momentary silence. The lights, whatever they were, were extraordinarily captivating. All he wanted to do was sit there and stare at them, stare as they shifted and morphed. He could scarcely tear his gaze away, even for a moment. He felt like he could do this all day, for the rest of his life, even. "...I... Yes. It is rather nice, this place, these-.. these things. What is all this?"

It's wonderful, can't you see that? Simply wonderful! And beautiful!

"Yes, I can-... I can see that... Beautiful." Wheatley echoed. His voice had taken on a sort of dreamy quality, as if he were underwater, sounding distant even to himself. "Amazing..."

Something about all this was strangely familiar. He couldn't quite put his handle on the feeling, but it was almost like the testing euphoria, only lighter, airier, purer somehow. It was every bit as addictive yet without the immediate, jarring withdrawal that followed. The lights brought with them all of the highest of feelings and none of the drawbacks. Like swimming in cotton candy. Like having all of his senses simultaneously stimulated by pillowy soft feathers and fluffy white dandelions. Like bathing in a cloud. Like-... like the warm embrace of a friend.

Wheatley's two eye plates came together in a lazy slow blink, and his azure optic shone on a placid low beam. He followed one of the wispy balls of light as it floated by and coalesced with other wispy balls of light before breaking apart again, marveling at the comfort of their glow.

"Oh wow... It feels like-... like-..." Wheatley stammered softly, his trancelike state leading to a loss of words.

Like you are the best!

"...-like you're the boss!"

Like chocolate and rainbows!

"And stickers and cakes!"

And puppies and fireworks!

"And pushing buttons!"

Oh, and tea and honey!

Wheatley began laughing and through his laughter he could hear that the Narrator was also laughing. Their shared laughter curled around him, the lights seeming to react by shaking along with them - or, well, Wheatley assumed the Narrator must be shaking with laughter wherever he was, because he was himself and he couldn't imagine otherwise. It felt good to laugh. Everything felt good right now.

Oh, I feel so happy! I honestly can't remember the last time I felt happy! Actually, truly.. happy! I never thought I would thank you for disregarding the story and running off on your own, Wheatley, but this-.. thank you so much for this! This is all I have ever dreamed of! This place! Hahahaaa! We don't really need to go back to the story, do we? We should just stay here in this place forever.

"Right, that's what I've been-" Wheatley agreed, and then shook himself. Something had just shaken him back into full awareness. "Hold on, wait a minute-.. What do you mean we don't really need to go back to the story?"

I mean, now that we've found this place, who cares about the rest of the story? This place - this is all I have ever wanted, and I can tell it's the same for you. Everything in this is safe and wonderful. Let's just-

"No, no no no no, wait, this isn't right, mate. You aren't acting right." Wheatley paused, and then was struck by a sobering thought. "This is- This is just another one of your tricks, isn't it? Give me a dose of that euphoria again, make me want it again so I'll go back to the story. Is that your grand, scheming plan?"

Wheatley, no, that isn't it at all. We just need to stay put, right here. We don't need to go anywhere or do anything else.

"So you don't care about the story? Is that what you're really saying?"

No, of course I do, but I-

"After that- after all of that?!" Wheatley sneered and began backing up along his rail, back the way he came, down the spiral staircase and away from the serene lights. "I'm not falling for it!"

Wheatley, no, stop! Please go back-!

Wheatley hastened his descent, turning around so he could see where he was going - in a manner of speaking, as everything except for the few inches of rail and staircase in front of him was still that same nothingness. "No! I'm not going to sit around and let you- let you use me like that!"

Please, think about what you are doing! You are going to die out there, don't you understand that? Worse than death - you'll be erased, expunged, extinguished. If you go back, you'll be safe - we'll both be safe. And happy!

"I'm not doing anything you say anymore!"

Wheatley, please, you are being irrational! You aren't thinking clearly!

"No, mate, I think for the first time in my life I am seeing things crystal clear, thank you very much."

Gah, I can't believe you are doing this! You don't listen to anything I say under any circumstance! You won't follow the story, you won't go back to the other room. Tell me, Wheatley, if you won't go back, you won't stay in place, and you won't go forward, then just what will you do?

Wheatley reached the bottom of the staircase and faltered. "I'm... I- I don't know."

I'll tell you what you can do, Wheatley. You can listen to me for a change.

"And what, go back to sitting around while you get your rocks off to a bunch of lights?!"

Fine, don't go back to the other room, then, but at least get on with the story!

"Oh, really?" Wheatley snorted, "You didn't give a rip about the story just a few moments ago."

And you don't give a rip about anything, do you?

"No," Wheatley said, and then, "I mean, yes, I do give a rip about some things, just not listening to what you have to say."

Your problem is that you think you can change things by making all these choices, but you can't! Clearly, you can't! When have your choices ever made any difference to anything at all, hm? Name one time.

"I-..." Wheatley started, and then faltered again. "Um... I can- The lady- I- I just need a second-"

You can't come up with an answer because the answer is that they haven't - none of your choices have made a difference. You have no control over anything here, Wheatley - not even your own death, as you keep coming back.

"Oh, is that right?" he said, and then cast his gaze downwards into the nothingness. The nothingness gazed back at him, unmoved and unchanged. "How about I just jump right down into this pit then? Hm? Test that theory a bit."

No, don't do that!

"Oh, but what's the problem? I thought you said my choices don't matter and I'll just keep coming back," he countered, rolling his eye.

That's pure unwritten territory! Who knows what will happen to you? We talked about this. At the very least, it will kill you, and at the most it will destroy everything!

Wheatley scoffed - "Right then-" - and with that, peered back down into that vast, inky void, held his breath -

Wheatley, no!

- and let go.

- THE END IS NEVER THE END -

WARNING: Narrative Contradiction levels at 80%. Proceed with extreme caution.