Wheatley must be dead. The last thing he remembered was falling from space, which meant that he couldn't really be here— wherever here was. This place didn't look anything like Aperture, or how he'd imagined the outside. It was like… an inside that wasn't Aperture.
He felt funny. Miraculously nothing hurt, but his insides felt different, as if parts had been swapped and rearranged. Who could have done this?
He froze as he looked up.
"Chell?"
Her hand came to rest on his casing for a moment, and he thought he almost saw her smile, but then she was gone.