In the absence of someone to converse with (if you could even count the one-sided exchange between Wheatley and the space core as conversation), Wheatley wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.
Even Aperture—which had been teeming with other robots and personality constructs who all mostly kept to themselves—hadn't been this lonely. The space core, however much of a nuisance he had seemed, had served as a sort of buffer between Wheatley and, well, space.
…and this time, Wheatley didn't have a job to keep him occupied, completely at the mercy of his current trajectory.
"I suppose that was for the best." He admitted. "I mean, not the part where the entire facility almost exploded, but things sure would have been different if I'd gotten that job in manufacturing. Let someone else look after the smelly humans for a change! Then she could test all flippin' day if she wanted to, or not, but it's not like they'd be able to pin it on me. And that lady—"
He paused.
"Well, I really don't know what would have happened with her. Probably would've escaped, found herself another smelly human to run off with… Maybe one with a motorcycle… And some tattoos… One of those 'bad boy' types that are only after looks, dark hair, sunglasses, leather jacket, spends way too much time looking at himself in the mirror… A bad influence, really. Oh but then they'd get together, all 'partners in crime' like, and do who-knows-what together. Whatever it is that smelly humans do when they're not testing or destroying someone else's facility. Lock lips in the break room, I dunno…"
Amidst his monologuing, Wheatley took notice of a small round object—a planet.
"Huh. You would've gotten a kick out of this. Look, it's got its own moon and everything!"
Something about the blue orb made Wheatley want to stop and take it all in. Here was this colourful little speck, somehow suspended in an endless sea of black nothing—kind of like him, he supposed. As he stared, its split reflection in his optic grew larger and larger.