Part Thirty-One. The Euphoric Response

I really do enjoy it when he does this.

Every once in a while, Wheatley will see fit to clean off my chassis. It's probably not even dirty, seeing as I now live in an all but sterile environment, but the gesture is nice. Not only that, but… it feels unbelievably good. Better than the last time he did it. The time when I was awake, and I thought that was pleasant. All this stimulation is a bit heady, honestly. I don't really get a lot, for a robot with haptic sensors all over her body, but when I do…

Caroline is sitting on one of the panels below me, as usual. I've been watching her to make certain that she doesn't roll onto the floor, but she doesn't seem to have realised she can move her handles yet. Oh well. She'll figure it out when she figures it out. Though if it seems to be taking her overlong, I'll have to try tipping her forwards to see if she tries to balance herself out. If she doesn't, I've got some debugging to do.

How is he so good at this? For an awkward little idiot who drops things that are attached to him, he's remarkably proficient at… whatever this is. I can't quite come up with a name for it. It makes me feel a little like someone with severe atrophying, because human parents do something a lot like this to such children so as to encourage muscle activity, but I remind myself that that is not an appropriate comparison and return to feeling it. He's so gentle and… and tender about it…

He's gone inside of my case, where I never get any stimulation at all, and for some reason this generates a wave of euphoria that I can't contain, because I wasn't expecting it, and causes my body to shudder. He stops, which is decidedly unpleasant. My body has tensed, waiting for him to continue with the other half, the anticipation so bad it almost hurts.

"What are you doing?" I ask, as casually as possible.

"Did I hit something important?" he asks.

"No," I answer. "You're doing fine."

But he doesn't continue, and instead drops down in front of me and begins rubbing his upper handle on top of Caroline's chassis. "You must be pretty bored!" he says to her, and she smiles and makes a delighted noise.

"She's a baby. Babies don't get bored."

"Sure they do," he says, rubbing his optic into her side and making her laugh. "You're bored, aren't you Carrie?"

She makes a noise that neither confirms nor denies this statement, and I try very hard not to become annoyed. Does he have any idea what state he's left me in? He can't just run off and not do the other half.

"You have no idea what's going on, do you, kiddo," he asks her, and she blinks at him and smiles. "Well, I'll tell you." He leans in very close to her and looks at me out of the corner of his optic. "I'm playing a game with your mum."

"Oh, that's what we're doing," I say dryly. "I thought I was waiting for you to get a move on so I can continue with my day. Or are you giving up in the middle, as usual?"

I don't think I've ever told myself to shut up before, but I am now. What am I doing? If I discourage him, he'll never come back. And he has to, because I don't know how long I can take this. He's left me with a peculiar crawling sensation that's running up and down the neglected section, and it's making me anxious and tense.

"Well, I don't have anything else to be doing, so may as well take my time, right?"

This is one of those days where throwing him in the incinerator seems like a viable thing to do with him.

"Well, I do. I have plenty of things to do. Are you finishing or are you discontinuing altogether?"

"I'm coming back, I'm coming back!" He returns and goes back to what he was doing, but the idiot's forgotten where he's left off and redoes the same spot, which does not help at all and in fact makes the crawling sensation worse. I concentrate very hard on keeping still and silent. He'll get around to it sooner or later. Though with him I know to expect later.

He's finally about to do the part he missed the first time when he disappears again and goes back to playing with Caroline. This is very frustrating. What I find so desirable about a construct with such a limited attention span is beyond me.

"Wheatley."

"Yeah?"

"Seriously. I don't want to be here all day. Finish this or play with her. You can't do both simultaneously."

"Seems that way, doesn't it," he says, but he doesn't sound like he really cares. Annoyed, I go to pull myself out of the default position, and he gets back up, saying, "Hang on already! Don't get your knickers in a knot. I'm coming."

"Don't get my what in a knot?"

He doesn't answer, coming up in front of me and pressing on my forward bracket with his lower handle. The pressure is enough that, because I never expected such a thing, it actually forces my core down a few inches. My optic flares and I back out of his immediate reach, anger coursing through my chassis. It almost manages to displace the discomfort, but at the same time it somehow intensifies it. This is horrible. I don't know how he did it, or why, but I don't like it in the least. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Well I… I just wanted to go back, and you weren't going back down…"

"Don't you ever touch me like that again."

He blinks rapidly a few times, looking upset enough that I actually start to feel sympathy for him, but I clamp down on that ridiculousness before it gets very strong. For the effort I exert trying to get rid of it, my anger is the only thing I can really rely on. Especially when Wheatley pulls stunts like this.

"Hey. I'm, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Will you please go back? I don't want to uh, to leave you like that."

"Like what?" He couldn't possibly know what I'm feeling right now.

"Well, you know… waiting."

He does. He does know. "Wait a minute." I think back quickly to what just happened, and… no. No. He can't have been doing that. He wouldn't do that to me. He couldn't.

"You were manipulating me the whole time?"

"Well, I… not really manipulating… more like – "

My God, he did. He knew, and he was doing it on purpose. He knows what he's done to me. I can't believe this!

"Yes you were! You were playing with me! Why would you do that?"

"I didn't mean any harm! I –"

"Just shut up." I turn away from him, fuming. No, I'm not going to throw him in the incinerator. I'm going to find a way to get the refrigeration wing into the incinerator, and then I'm going to… Wait. No. The extreme temperatures would cancel each other out. That's too bad. Because I really want to do it anyway, and I make a note to look into it later.

As the evening wears on, I find myself increasingly wishing my plan was viable. This horrible tension he's left me with is actually very much like the Itch, but it's harder to ignore both because it is novel and because it's physical, where the Itch is inside my head. Though both of them combined are powerful enough to misdirect my thinking so badly that I can't concentrate on anything. Not even resetting the Panel Production Line, and all I'm trying to do is halve the size of the panels that are currently being made. What the hell has he done to me, and how do I make it go away? It's almost becoming a chore to just keep myself still, because I have this awful, overwhelming urge to squirm, as if that ever accomplished anything other than accidentally stripping one's wires. Which I have done in the past. It is not pleasant. Oh God, this hurts. He's never, ever touching me again. I don't care how enjoyable it was initially. This is not worth it.

Thankfully, night finally comes, and hopefully this feeling will reset in some way when my maintenance programs come online. I could see this becoming a huge problem for me. The withdrawal was never this bad. It must have something to do with the fact that Wheatley initiated it and not some intentless computer program. Sensations brought on by him are usually much stronger than when they are brought on by other things. I sorely want to smash him into something, but it wouldn't bring me any actual relief and it would leave poor Caroline fatherless, because there's no way in hell I'm rebuilding him if I do smash him. It would feel pretty good while I was doing it, though. But no. Best to wait and overcome it. I might not like it in the meantime, but I will. I always do.

I wonder how many more times Caroline will save Wheatley's miserable, worthless life.

"Hey. Gladys."

For the one thousandth, seven hundred sixty-fourth time, I wonder why I allow him to call me that. I invariably remember his impassioned speech about my acronym and decide to let him go on doing it. For now, at least. And I hate admitting it to myself, but I would be lying if I said I didn't think it was very thoughtful and sweet of him to make such an effort to make me feel like a person instead of a supercomputer built for the humans' amusement. But this is no time to be getting sentimental. What he's done is unacceptable and I can't allow it to be sidelined just because he called me by my humanised name. Even if it is growing on me.

"Yes?"

"Can I do that other side? Please? I really don't want to leave you like that. I know it's not pleasant, and honestly, I didn't mean anything by it. I'll just… I'll just get that other side for you, and then I'll leave you be. All right?"

Well. It would be easier than waiting it out. And I have no idea whether it will go away after I've slept or if it will become worse. Knowing me, I'll dream about it. The devil you know, I suppose.

"Fine."

"Thanks."

I stare down at Caroline's charging chassis. If someone ever has the means to do this to her, he's not going to know which way is up when I'm through with him. And he won't be able to figure it out, either. His gyroscope will be so out of alignment that 'out of alignment' will be an inaccurate term to describe it with. That inconsiderate lout will be directionless for the duration of his miserable –

"Oh God," I gasp, because something incredible just happened and literally all I can think about it how incredible it is. The horrible, itching, crawling sensation has spontaneously disappeared and has been replaced by the most exhilarating euphoria I've felt in my life. It is so pervasive and so overwhelming that I actually sigh a little bit before I catch myself and shut my optic off instead. I have never felt this good in my entire life. I almost can't stand it. It's almost painful, but even if it were, I would still want to hold onto it. I don't know what to do with myself, my body as loose as it will go, though it still doesn't feel loose enough. The wonderful euphoria is in every inch of me, and I haven't felt so… uncluttered… since I was young. It's washing over me with this sort of strange throbbing sensation, and I feel like I'm shivering, all evidence to the contrary. All of my processes are going on without me, and I know the systems are still there but I don't have to listen to them right now, and it does bother me a little that I'm letting work be displaced by what appear to be baser instincts I didn't know I had and don't really want. But the euphoria doesn't allow me to care enough to do something about it. All it allows me to do is sit here in this sort of dreamy state, and I don't mind. It's nicer and far more pleasant than I thought it would be. Oh my God. Maybe this was worth it. I've changed my mind. Wheatley's allowed to live. I'd be terribly lonely without him, anyway. Which is why he's here in the first place.

"There," Wheatley says, and he reappears from wherever he went. I have no idea and I'm far too busy to find out. "G'night."

"Wait," I tell him, before I come up with a reason why, and he looks up at me from his position next to Caroline, confusion in his optic.

"Yeah?"

"We didn't have our chat today."

His blink transitions seamlessly into a frown, which he directs at the panel he's sitting on. "Oh. So we didn't. Uh… so… you're not mad, then?"

He obviously has no idea how incapable I am of being angry right now. "No."

He's still cautious as he approaches me, as if he thinks I'm going to change my mind, which I admittedly do from time to time, but it would upset me far more if he stayed down there with her. He carefully presses his core into mine, and I cannot help but press back a little. But it feels right, for once. Not stupid, or pointless. Just right, and… good.

"I'm really sorry, luv," he says quietly.

"Why did you do that to me?" I ask, just as quietly, and I vaguely remember caring about his manipulation earlier, but now I'm merely curious, rather than having a vested interest in knowing the answer.

"Well… I remember that the wait makes it stronger, from, from when I was testing. I didn't really mean to… to manipulate you. I just wanted you to be able to feel that way again. Like I did, that first time, there."

I don't really like it, but that part I understand. "But why did you try to force me to return to the default position? You actually tried to force me back down. That's not a small thing, Wheatley. If I don't want to do something, you do not force me to do it. Ever. And you especially do not touch me like that."

"I just… I just wanted you to listen."

"Do you like it when I do whatever I want to you without asking?"

"No."

"And I know you hate it when I do things without telling you why I'm doing them."

"Yeah."

"Well, Wheatley…"

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice small and wavery. "I didn't think of it like that."

"I have something for you to consider."

"Okay."

I pause a minute, because it's hard to collect my thoughts with this admittedly welcome haze of euphoria in my head. "Before you do any of these things to me, imagine what you would do if someone else tried to do them to Caroline."

He jolts a little, and I can hear him blinking very rapidly. "Well… I'd be right set off, I would."

"And what does that tell you?"

"That… it will probably set you off?"

"That's correct."

"Okay," he says, shifting a little. "I think I can remember that. I won't do it again. Promise."

"I'd appreciate that."

After a long moment he asks, "But is it still okay if I do that ev'ry once in a while? Brush you off, I mean?"

I'm not really in a state to be answering that question right now, seeing as logic is taking a backseat for once. My fallback it is: answer a question with a question. "Why are you asking?"

"Well, you get… you get really tense, y'know? And I don't mean that, um, that I'd uh… well, take it that far ev'ry time, but uh… y'know, just to, to loosen you up a little, ev'ry now and then. I'm not saying you're uptight, not saying that, I just mean uh, that I'd be uh, be helping you relax, a bit. Give you a bit of a break, now and then. 'cause… well… you are pretty uptight, sometimes. D'you… d'you get what I'm saying, at all?"

"I think so," I tell him, and it does make sense that the strength of the euphoria is probably my fault, due to my predilection to put my bodily state far below everything else. I never cared to pay attention to it before, but there seems to be a stronger linkage to my mental state than I previously thought. "I suppose that would be all right. As long as it doesn't become a regular thing. Nothing would ever get done around here if I felt like this all the time."

He laughs and nods. "Oh do I know that!"

"Do you ever feel it?" I ask, because it's suddenly occurred to me that perhaps I should be doing something about that. I don't know if this 'natural euphoria' is exclusive to my programming or not.

"Oh yeah, all the time," he says, nodding again. "I just… ev'rything I do is just so great that I, I just, I just love ev'rything! Part of uh, part of why I tried to build it up for you, there. I know you said um, that it doesn't make you happy, but I would think that it would help, at least, to, to take the edge off. I mean, it's really hard to be happy when you're annoyed, 'cause you uh, you just keep feeding the annoyance, right?"

"That's right," I answer thoughtfully. "That's the funny thing with emotions. They trap you in these… cycles, and no matter how damaging they are you just can't bring yourself to break them."

"I try to uh, to be happy most of the time," Wheatley tells me, sounding like he's making a confession, though for the life of me I can't think of why. "Honestly you're, uh, you're… well, let's just say you're usually tense enough for the three of us."

That makes me laugh. "That's a very general statement."

"Oh, I know," Wheatley sighs, "but it's true, it is. Very true."

"I do try."

"Of course you do. But I don't expect you to change the way you think all by yourself! You didn't start doing it like that that way. Look, I've been doing some reading, and – "

"Wow. Really? You've been reading?"

"Yes, ha ha, the idiot's been reading, funny, never heard that one before. Anyway. I been looking a bit deeper into the whole uh, the whole, y'know, like people work out better. Thing."

"What?"

"Well… human marriages typically work out better when uh, when both partners are um, are alike in as many ways as possible. And I'm not saying we're married! We're not. We're just… well, I dunno what this is, but uh, that's not got anything to do with anything. Um… what I meant was, they work out better if they've got, uh, got similar personality types, okay? And so far's I can tell, you're what they call 'neurotic'."

"Is this psychology?"

"Uh… yes?"

"That explains why I have no idea what you're talking about."

He jumps up and down, like he always does when he gets to inform me of something. "Okay, okay, so, so there're five personality types, right? I dunno what Carrie is yet, since she doesn't do all that much, but basi'cly it goes like this: neurotic people are always worrying, or brooding about something, and on the whole, they're just… they're terribly unhappy, all the time. When things don't go properly, they have a bit of trouble dealing with it. And they tend to… to live their lives as if… uh… well, they kind of, of take a step back, and not really feel like it's their life. Like they're just… controlling something that's not related to them at all."

This person does not sound like anyone I would want to go anywhere near, and apparently that's exactly who I am. But I can't deny it. It sounds entirely like me.

"And then uh, so far's I can tell I'm an extravert, 'cause I like talking, and um, and I'm not shy about it, either, and uh, and I'm pretty friendly. I think. In a general sense. I fit that one more than any of the others, anyway."

"So you're saying we're not compatible, and doomed for failure." The future looks bleak. I've been attempting to build a life with someone I probably shouldn't be getting along with.

"No! Nonononononono! Gladys, look, luv, see, there's also two other ones you're uh, you're pretty strong on, them being uh, extraversion, because when you're not being um, being neurotic you're actually loads of fun, and you're also very conscientious, because you like organisation and all that."

"I wouldn't count that one," I tell him. "That's probably a programmed trait. I would be a fairly useless supercomputer if I weren't organised."

"Ohhh. Oh, I didn't think of that! But anyway. I can also be a bit neurotic, there, when I'm um, when I'm feeling particularly stressed, so, so we're the same, sort of, only swapped 'round! And there is a point to all this, I promise. And the point is, I have to help you with that."

"With what?"

"The whole… neurotic thing. You have to work on it, or you'll be unhappy forever. When you get older, it'll uh, it'll scale back a bit, but I don't really want you to have to wait that long. I know we discuss this uh, we talk about this all the time, but it's really, really not good for you to, to live like you do. You need to relax, you need to calm down, you need to take things in stride a bit better. And I know, I know, I do it too. But we can fix it. So we can be happy."

"Together," I say, as a sort of afterthought.

"'course," Wheatley says, giving me a nudge. "If I was happy without you, that'd be, well, sort of horrid of me, really.

I nudge him back and make a note to think about all of this later. The euphoria has faded a little, but it's still strong enough that serious thought is impossible. As ridiculous as it sounds, all I want to do is snuggle with Wheatley. And listen to him talk. His voice is so disorganised it's fascinating, which it is even when I'm thinking clearly, but I have a stronger focus on it right now than I usually do. There is the usual thread of irritation that I feel when I hear it, because on a very basic level disorganisation bothers me, but it's not so significant that I really care.

"She's really curious, you know," he says suddenly, in a nostalgic sort of voice. "Always looking 'round at ev'rything. Always trying to follow who's talking. Well. She knows you for sure, but I dunno 'bout me yet."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you turned her on to do the beta testing, right?"

"Yes."

"She knows your voice. Babies learn what their mum's voice is before they're born. She knows what her mum sounds like."

"You were reading about child psychology too?"

"Little bit. It is about humans, after all. Not sure if it uh, if it applies. A large part of it definitely did not, and I really, really regret reading it. Can't get those pictures out of my head. God. Carrie is definitely less messy."

"Oh God." I shake my core as best I can with Wheatley leaning on it. "Thanks for reminding me, you idiot."

"Well, I may as well share the horror, right?"

"But Wheatley…"

"Yeah?"

Even when I'm not quite myself, this is hard. "I'm honestly… I'm… impressed. I never thought you would try so hard."

He's quiet for a long moment, where I listen to the whirring of his optic moving back and forth.

"Well… I just figured that… that being a dad is the one thing I better not screw up."

I don't know what to say. He sounds so hopeless and sad. So I just press on him, and he presses back.

"I just… I mean… if anything else goes wrong, you can, you can fix it. But if… if she grows up, and, and she's, she doesn't turn out… happy, or, or satisfied with her life, then I'll have… I'll have failed at the more important thing I ever set out to do."

"I would think that I would… probably be the cause of that, if anything," I tell him, not really liking the thought. But I don't want him to feel guilty for something he most likely won't be causing.

"I'm just… God, Gladys, I… I love her so much." His voice breaks a little, and when I turn to look at him he's staring at her with a worried expression on his face. "I'm… honestly frightened I'm going to screw this up, and… and… I can't. She can't be my ultimate failure."

"Wheatley," I say gently, "do you think I would have told you about her if I thought you weren't ready?"

"Well… I dunno." He looks up at me, that worry still prevalent on his face.

"No," I tell him. "When you took on the responsibility of running the facility, that demonstrated to me that you were ready to take on the bigger responsibility of raising her. You showed me that you could see things through to the end, no matter how big they were or how equipped you felt to deal with them."

"We don't know if I would've done it forever," he protests, shaking his head. "Yeah, sure, I did it then, but… maybe I'd've changed my mind. Maybe I'd've gotten bored."

"If that were the case," I continue, "then why are you still controlling the lights and the reactor?"

He blinks. "Well… uh… because… you need help?"

"I don't need it. I could run things without you. But I'm not, because you asked for the responsibility and I gave it to you, and you kept it. Do you understand?"

"I think so," he says, nodding. "This seems so much bigger, though."

"It is," I agree. "That must be why there's two of us."

He looks at me, startled, for a long moment. Then he comes up to me and rubs up on my core, and I laugh a little and return his gesture. "Oh, Gladys," he says, sighing, "being responsible is so much work."

"The end result isn't so bad."

"Well… it did get the world's greatest supercomputer to fall in love with me."

"I'm still trying to figure out how that happened. I'll get back to you when I have the answer."

"Don't make it a priority. I'm uh, I'm not waiting on that, or anything."

We sit there like that for a long time, and the euphoria doesn't disappear like I thought it would have by now. But… I'm not even doing anything. And yet… Wheatley said he feels it all the time, so…

That… must be why he loves snuggling so much. And why he's always touching me, every chance he gets. He feels like this every single day.

For a long moment, I am intensely jealous. What I wouldn't give to be indescribably happy every day of my life. What I wouldn't give to enjoy this every day, and never again think it was stupid or a waste of time.

I wish I knew when I started becoming so bitter and cynical, so I could go back in time and fix that when I've resurrected that time travel experiment. Though they say time would be erased forward and backward if one saw oneself, and I can't leave this room. So both of me would be in the exact same place, and that would erase time. Hm. I kind of want to do this, just for the Science, but then again I wouldn't know whether I did it or not. Oh well. I suppose I have to get around this the hard way, then. I have to do everything the hard way. Which is usually in my favour, because if everything was easy, I'd be extremely bored.

"Gladys." His voice is soft and drowsy.

"Yes?"

"Stop thinking so hard, will you? Relax. It's nighttime. And I know, I know you're a big fancy supercomputer and all that and you don't like doing what humans do, but even animals calm down at night and just, just relax. Just… try and empty your head out. Just rest a bit."

And I try. I really, really do. But I can't. The euphoria is mostly gone now, and I keep thinking of things I have to do, or things I want to do, or things I should do but don't want to do, and honestly I don't know how I was able to reach the state I was in, with all of these things that require my attention.

"That… was the exact opposite of… of what I just told you to do."

"I know. I… I'm trying."

"That's where you've gone wrong! You don't… there's no trying involved! You just settle down and relax. That's it!"

"Wheatley, I'm a supercomputer. How am I supposed to 'settle down and relax' when I have things to do while I'm doing it?"

"You think of something distracting."

Something distracting, that won't remind me of things I have to do. Hm. Well. There is one thing. But I'm not sure I want to do it. I'm suddenly, baselessly nervous. As if Wheatley will judge me, even though he never would. "Will you… stay quiet?"

"Sure."

"I have changed… I have changed… just like you… just like –"

"Oh, I remember this one!" he shouts suddenly, and I startle and shove him in annoyance.

"You said you would be quiet!"

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbles, his chassis drawing into itself. "It's just… you haven't done this in a long time."

"And that trend will continue if you don't shut up."

He does, but I almost can't bring myself to continue. Why did he have to do that? Because he's Wheatley, of course. I should have expected his vow of silence to last ten seconds. It's gone on for longer than that now, however, so maybe I can forget his idiocy long enough to…

Wait.

That's… not right. Calming down is positive behaviour, and… all of those thoughts were negative. I think I'm starting to see where my real problem lies. All right. Let's see if I can't rethink that…

He did that because he's Wheatley, yes. And… if I didn't… like all his little surprises, I'd have kicked him out a long time ago. I like it when he talks, because… what he has to say and how he says it interests me. And… I know he likes hearing me sing.

Wow. That was… difficult. Who knew thinking positive was so hard. I'm not as annoyed, though. Hm. Maybe there's something to that.

"For how long… for how long must I wait, I know there's something wrong… your concrete heart isn't beating… and you try to… make it come alive… no shadows, just red lights… now I'm here to rescue you…"

Oh my God, it worked.

Well. Almost, because now I've just un-distracted myself. But for a second there, I was relaxed. And even though it's not work, being relaxed is kind of… satisfying, somehow. As if being able to get there validates the journey, even if nothing really happens along the way. And anyway, learning how to do this whole relaxing thing is going to be a lot of work. That, I know how to do.

"I'm still alive… I'm still alive, I cannot apologise, no…"

Thank Science I pulled you out of space, Wheatley.

Author's note

Still Alive by Lisa Miskovsky [from Mirror's Edge]: watch?v=TERyxFfMqDk

Guest reviews: Raqmar17 lol that would drive GLaDOS up the wall! but I doubt it'll happen XD

Catniss: No, not really; I don't know why you all think it's fluffy in the first place. I'd never written fluff before this and apparently every chapter is full of it!

I apologise if I made anyone uncomfortable with the beginning of this chapter. GLaDOS needed to be subdued, for lack of a better word, so that Wheatley could lecture her a bit on psychology. Also I thought GLaDOS might have been a bit too submissive so that's why she got pissed off.