Deviation Actions
Literature Text
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Chapter 3
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa-"
Wheatley's lungs ran out of air, his scream turning into a wheeze before finally dying out.
He breathed in, preparing to continue, when he noticed he wasn't falling anymore. It was hot, though, but he didn't seem to be on fire, and that was definitely solid ground he felt under his feet...
"I honestly hope you got all of your screaming done. That almost broke my audio-systems."
He was alive? But he thought GLaDOS had decided to kill him. Not that he was upset at not being burnt alive, or melted, or whatever happened at people in incinerators. But it was nice to know where things were heading. He straightened out, taking in his surroundings.
There was a huge pit of fire and burning things middle of this huge room, but he was standing on a wide ledge filled with scrap metal, broken cubes and turrets.
There were several shafts on the ceiling, some depositing their load to the ledge, like him, some leading straight to the inferno raging below. At the moment he could see a group of turrets falling in, one still screaming.
The voice of the giant computer echoed in the room:
"Sometimes I wonder if the capability for audio communication is completely necessary for test-subjects."
"Test subjects?" That was him, right? So, on the positive side, it didn't sound like he was about to be killed off right away. On the other hand, though, there was the whole test-word.
Almost like she had guessed where his thoughts were heading, the computer said in a far too cheerful tone:
"Maybe we can try removing your vocal chords at some point. To see if it improves your performance."
"No! It definitely, certainly, would not! And I'm telling you why you should not. Remove my vocal chords. Because... Haven't you ever see professional athletes throw the javelin, or play tennis? Why do you suppose they grunt all the time? Improves performance on sport and also tests. Definitely, a science fact."
Ignoring him, she went on:
"But no reason to hurry. We have time to try out all of my ideas for testing. Well, some of them you can only try once..."
It seemed like it was getting hotter. Uncertainly, Wheatley took a step towards the pit. He could see a way out on the other side, but the walkway leading there was in bad condition and full of metal trash. Just as he moved forward, a pile of rubble fell where he had been a moment before, mostly made of broken turrets. Few were still active, one of them trying to focus it's laser on Wheatley, softly calling out to him, making the fire pit seem a bit more safe by comparison.
"Let me get that for you."
Robotic arms attached to the walls removed the obstruction ahead of him. Meanwhile, the vent he had been dropped from unloaded a new assortment of debris, filling the ledge he was standing on a bit more.
"There should be a way to the testing tracks up ahead. If you ran into any pieces of me that didn't completely get burned when someone threw them down here, say hi from me."
So he was being coaxed forward.
"Did you know I have a sort of black-box quick-save feature? In the event of a catastrophic failure, the last two minutes of my life are preserved for analysis.
So I could, was forced, really, to relive you murdering me again and again. Forever. If someone did something like that to you, what would you do?"
Wheatley opened his mouth to tell her that he definitely would just forgive them and let the person go, but stopped just before saying anything, for once trying to weight out what response would earn him the least amount of suffering.
However, she didn't seem to expect any answer, and went on:
"Would you devote your whole existence to revenge? Would you spend your time coming up with different ways to make the life of the murderer an unending nightmare, piece by piece taking away everything they love and hold dear, making it certain they are aware of everything that's happening to them every step on the way? I guess you would."
She paused, presumably for effect. Or maybe she was expecting a denial. In any case, Wheatley decided silence might be the way to go just this once.
"But that's the difference between us. Well, that and 3784 other things, I can give you a list later. I'm devoted enough to science to put all that past us, and get back to testing. For the good of scientific progress."
Wheatley really didn't like this. He almost hoped she was openly hostile. At least then you knew what you faced. Of course he wasn't foolish enough to actually wish for being shot at and/or gassed slowly to death.
If it came to wishing, he might as well wish the robot changed her mind and let him go. Or that a group of super-intelligent monkeys that had taken over the planet while he was frozen broke in, saved him and made him the king of New America and revealed they had a stash of tea shipped from England since he could really use some and hadn't gotten any good tea for a while even before this whole kidnapping-for-science happened, since apparently getting good tea in this country was impossible.
He missed home.
But while Wheatley definitely wouldn't say no to a tea party thrown in his honour by super-apes, he wasn't going to get his hopes up. He would just take what he got and try to make the best of it.
Wheatley walked towards the only direction he could, glad to get away from the incinerator. He was being lead by the nose, every now and then metallic claws attached to the walls or the shifting panels clearing up the road ahead of him and in several cases blocking the way he had come from.
The industrial-like corridors had changed to dysfunctional test-chambers, and in some cases parts of them, the rooms broken into pieces, one of them looking like it had had half of it removed, the floor and walls just stopping like someone had sawed part of it off, leaving him a ledge to walk on and a great drop on the other side.
Eventually he came across a door similar to ones he had seen in the tests.
Wheatley walked through, only to find himself in a pitch-black room.
And then a red light appeared in front of him, accompanied with the all-too-familiar cute voice:
"There you are."
Wheatley turned to run, but the door had shut behind him.
Around him one by one red lights blinked to life, the laser-sights wandering across the room, more and more of them finding him and focusing on their human target.
Doing their best to focus on him, in any case. As soon as he had found the door locked, Wheatley had not stopped for a moment, deciding to try his best to at least make a difficult target.
The room was still dark, but the turret optics and their lasers did light up the room somewhat, and at least they made avoiding them easier. However, it was inevitable he would run into one, and when he did, both the turret and the human fell down, one with a horrified shriek, the other with "critical error!".
Wheatley fell on his stomach, disoriented, the wind knocked out of him.
He closed his eyes, certain that after acid pits, drops of several hundred feet, rockets, bouncing exploding energy balls, deep-freezing, neurotoxin and incinerators it would be bullets of all things, to finally dispose of him.
That didn't happen.
And actually, there had been a definite lack of gunshots all this time, now that he thought about it, instead of simply reacting with blind panic.
He opened his eyes to see that the lights had been turned on. Slowly he lifted his head, staring at the dozen turrets that stared right back.
The ones that were standing towards him, at any rate. The positioning of the turrets seemed haphazard, one even looking straight in a corner, every now and then sadly asking if there was anybody there.
But even the ones that had him on his sights had not shot. As he stared, one of them opened its sides revealing the machine guns, but after few empty clicks put them away again.
"Out of ammo. Sorry," it informed him.
"Oh, did you accidentally wander into the depository for turrets out of ammo and waiting for Redemption?"
The seemingly ever-present computer asked, opening one of the doors in the room.
"I would advice you to get away from there in case some of them happen to have some bullets left."
She didn't need to tell Wheatley twice.
He ran out of the room, although this time slowing down to look around before entering the next one. Whether this was the same door he had come from, he couldn't tell. The whole running around in the dark-business had left him disoriented, and in any case he had the feeling he had been made to walk in circles most of the time.
Not to mention that a few times he could have sworn that the room he had been in had moved while he was inside it.
Now he was in a short corridor leading to a lift and stepped in, hoping his faith in the lift wasn't misplaced. He could think of several ways riding in one could result in a gruesome death, even when crazy maniacal computers weren't involved.
So understandably he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being escorted to his execution. To think of it, he had already been thrown in front of a firing squad, hadn't he?
"Let's see, I'll find a test for you to solve. Ah, here, Thermal Discouragement Beams. By the way, this test is extremely difficult and dangerous. In fact it was removed from normal testing because of how excessively fatal it turned out to be."
The cheerful male voice announced:
"Truth enhancement function for the purpose of discouraging the test-subject is back online."
"Good, that's working again. You get to start testing while I'll go back to work getting everything back online."
The small test chamber was filled with mud and vegetation, just like the ones he had solved before, but some parts of the room were shifting, panels moving, revealing a contraption on the ceiling.
Once the movement stopped Wheatley carefully approached it, but jumped back when a red laser shot from it.
After he became convinced the laser was stationary, just pointing at the floor, and wouldn't come after him, Wheatley approached it again, this time even more carefully. An experiment involving some dead vegetation confirmed the beam of light was capable of setting things on fire on contact. Wheatley made a mental note, adding lasers on the list of things that could kill you in this place. Although he wasn't that good at keeping things in his mind, and he was hoping he had pen and some paper to write it down.
But basically assuming everything was out to kill him had served him well thus far.
He could see the exit on a shelf in front of him.
He jumped over the puddle (best to avoid contact with the water, just in case), but soon found, after managing to climb on the ledge with some difficulty, that the door stayed shut.
He turned around to survey the room from this vantage point for a way to open it.
The laser was looking a pretty significant, test-solving vice. The way it shot down from the ceiling to a portal-friendly surface, staying stationary, not seeking him out, was practically yelling "an important test-solving element" to his test-solving test-subject senses.
And there was a structure on the floor few feet away, similar to the receptacles he had been able to activate with the energy balls before, and with the telltale line connecting it to the door, hinting that if he should redirect the beam to the thing with portals...
But-
"I can't solve this without the Portal Gun!"
"Well done, it only took you 15 minutes 45 seconds to figure out something that would have been immediately clear to 99.78% of people."
"So you have given me a test I can't solve?"
Was he going to be imprisoned to an unsolvable test for the rest of his life? Compared to the possible punishments he had been dreading, it was rather on a dull side.
"Now why would I do something like that?"
"But I can't solve this! Didn't you just say that?"
Not that he was complaining, mind you. But if he could get to the next room at least he would have hope for slipping through some crack in or between the chambers.
No answer.
"Hello?"
He found it hard to believe this was it.
"Are you going to give me one, then?"
He was almost relieved to hear her voice again:
"So now you want one? I might consider equipping you with a Dual Portal Device..."
"Well then give me one! Do you want me to solve this bloody test or not?"
Wheatley was quickly becoming frustrated and more and more confused with this. Maybe the mental robot was short on a few files. Most likely the ones containing "common sense" and "the file that keeps evil robots from killing people".
"Is that how you are asking for a favor? No wonder you ended up a test subject."
"What?"
A favour? It wanted him to ask nicely?
"Could you give me a Portal Device?"
Nothing.
Worried she had picked up on the considerable amount of sarcasm in his voice, he reluctantly added:
"Please?"
"Congratulations."
With a sound of a party horn something soft fell on his head. Wheatley lifted his hand to brush the paper from his hair.
Confetti?
"You have mastered the art of asking nicely, one of the cornerstones of human interaction. Maybe if you were nicer to people more often you wouldn't have to murder them to get what you want."
A robotic claw holding a Portal Gun reached down from the hole in the panelling where the confetti had come from. Before she could change her mind, Wheatley reached for it, picking it up.
"Thanks."
He bit his lip a moment too late, the reflective response for being given something escaping his lips before he could help it.
"Of course, I'm just loaning the device to you. It's still property of Aperture Science. But then again, so are you."
Well, at least he had the Portal Gun back, fully functional. And the chambers were still looking old and worn, perhaps he could find a way to freedom through a hole in the wall in some of the upcoming tests.
Of course, he had escaped from the test-chambers once before, and that didn't yet mean he was on the clear. The facility was enormous, and finding a way out...
Well, it wasn't worth worrying about things he couldn't do anything about. His best bet was to keep his eyes open, solve these chambers as quickly as he could, try to find a hole to slip through and then run away avoiding the room with the main computer.
The next chamber had lasers too, but now that he was familiar with how they worked and equipped with the Portal Device, Wheatley was feeling much more confident, something GLaDOS seemed to do her best to remedy:
"This next test includes Thermal Discouragement Beam Redirection Cubes. I just finished building them when you had your little adventure. So you get to be the first test subject to try them out. Incidentally, there is a 2.45% chance the cube can't handle the beam and will blow up on your face. Good luck."
He approached the cube. It was the same size the more familiar storage cubes were, but unlike them had a large prism middle of it.
Carefully, he lifted the cube using the tractor beam, relieved when it responded with the same way the Storage Cubes did, mainly by not blowing up.
He threw the cube at the beam. Then walked at it, picked it up and tried again, this time a bit closer. The second throw carried to the beam, and it caught the laser, redirecting it.
With no explosion, fortunately.
Less fortunately, the whole redirection-functionality led to the cube redirecting the beam towards him, almost resulting in a one scorched test-subject.
He approached the cube and very carefully turned it so that the beam was directed at the receptacle, opening the door.
He walked at the exit, assuming the computer would take this time to go on about how slowly he solved the test or failed to be blown up in a satisfactory manner. Instead, she had something else to pester him about:
"Did you know that red-haired people are far more likely to engage in anti-social and violent behaviour such as murdering people who are only trying to help them?"
"Wot? You're lying."
He got confused at this approach. And just when he had been thinking of such a witty response ("Yeah? Well, I was doing science and science takes time sometimes") to any complaints about his speed in solving the test.
"It's true. They are also far more likely to deny anything is wrong with them and choose to live in denial. It's all based in scientific observations. Just look at the situation here: The number of ginger test subjects who have murdered helpless victims in cold blood: one. The number of non-ginger test subjects who have done the same: zero."
"You are just making stuff up."
Wheatley was sure there was something wrong with those statistics, but couldn't exactly pinpoint what. And in any case, the mental computer wasn't worth reasoning with.
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Upon entering the test-chamber Wheatley was greeted with an assortment of trash hurtling towards him. His first thought, naturally, was that this was another attempt at his life. But it seemed half-hearted, or just an attempt to startle him (which had worked, not that he wanted to give the computer any satisfaction, so he did his best to pretend that his jump back towards the lift had been a part of a warming up routine, jumping up and down a few times and stretching his legs).
"Sorry, I'm still cleaning up the test-chambers. By myself. And I'm using the same tube-systems to transport all my smelly garbage. So you're bound to run into rest of it every now and then. Just try to avoid it."
Despite what GLaDOS had said, the rubbish wasn't actually smelly, it was mostly old electronics, some pieces of vegetation, but nothing that would assault his nose even to the extent the mud covering the weatherworn test-chambers had.
There was a broken turret, something resembling a football, and a radio.
"Don't play with the garbage. You don't have to test with the garbage."
Just to spite her, Wheatley picked up the radio and pushed the buttons but didn't get it to work.
After he didn't manage to get any music to test by, he turned to the other stuff, deciding to find some use to them, just to annoy his captor and in some way get back at her.
So I don't have to test with them? What if I want to?
Out loud, he said:
"Wow, you are throwing all this stuff away? Finder's keepers, then! If you don't need this stuff, I'm sure I can find something to do with them."
"I should have guessed. The garbage makes you feel right at home, doesn't it? Unfortunately, you can't carry any of your new friends away from this test chamber through the Emancipation Grill, so make the most of it. Maybe you could roll in it, or rub it all over you, so you could at least take the smell with you."
So he just had to find a use for the stuff in the chamber he was in.
Wheatley had, of course, when first stepping in the chamber, quickly scanned it for turrets or any immediate threat, but been distracted by the trash thrown at him, so now he went over it, taking in the elements of the test and what he would have to do to open the door.
Just in front of him, there was a button, and stepping at it, he confirmed it opened the door few feet in front of him. He just needed a cube to weigh it down. There was one on the ledge on the other side of the chamber, but by the looks of it, no immediate way to reach it. There were lasers around there as well, suggesting he should use them...
Bollocks to that.
He carried all the rubbish onto the button. It wasn't enough. Or it had been programmed to avoid the test subject just carrying a bunch of turrets or other testing equipment on it. So she had learned from his earlier test-solving solutions.
He was expecting the computer to say something sarcastic, but she stayed silent.
He stepped on the button, pushing some of the rubbish off.
The door opened.
Wheatley stepped down from the button, dashing towards the door, but he hadn't taken even one step towards it before it shut again.
If he could find a way to be in two places at once...
Another him to stand on the button, and another to walk through the door. But then the first him would be left in the chamber. Unless the other him (he decided to call him Wheatley No. 2) who had stepped through the door could keep the door open for Wheatley No. 1...
He had just one of him, but he did have the broken turret and the radio and other stuff. If he was a mechanical genius, he could build a robot out of it to help him. If he had the tools.
And, well, while his employer at the electronics-store had told him (when firing him) that he had amazing talents relating to machines, mostly getting them to do things they were never designed for and that no one wanted them to do, he was no mechanical wizard.
Wheatley kicked the white football-like ball towards the door. It rolled through the doorway and stopped.
He smiled at the idea that gave him and picked up the broken turret.
And threw it at the exit.
The machine landed in front of the door.
He picked up a metallic frame from his pile of trash and flung it at the turret, making it slide just a little bit towards the door.
By using rest of the trash he managed to push and poke the turret onto the doorway, and after it was halfway out of the room, he stepped out of the button.
Without the pressure on the button, the door shut, and with a clank the turret was lodged between the door and the frame, leaving it open slightly.
But Wheatley, being rather slim, managed to wriggle through the small opening.
"Remember when I mentioned I transport all my garbage in the tube-system? I also included you in this and so indirectly called you garbage. You didn't react at the time, so I was worried that it sailed right over your head. But I thought you would feel better, since I can tell abandoning your trash-friends was emotionally distressing, knowing that in a way, wherever you go, you always have some garbage with you."
But despite being called rubbish (twice) his mood was lightened.
He prepared to walk to the lift, but found the catwalk leading there broken, leaving a huge hole in the floor.
Deciding this was his chance to escape, he dropped down to the corridor below and broke into a run, determined to get as far away as he could before she noticed he was gone.
He was in a space that looked like it was meant for maintenance back when there were still humans running the place, chairs and other abandoned office supplies lying around.
The corridor led to a huge industrial hall. He could see assembly lines on both sides, transporting panels, cutting them down, picking them up and taking them somewhere. There was an army of robotic arms building...
Something around him.
The floor he had thought stationary shot up, panels everywhere coming together making up the chamber around him.
A test-chamber.
"Oh, you are already here. You must really love testing to hurry here instead of going to take the rest in the break room I arranged the elevator to take you to."
Since the camera on the wall was the closest thing to the computer he could get to at the moment, Wheatley shot it down with a portal, kicked it on the laser beam and swore to do the same to the robot once he did get away.
Then he lifted the Prism Cube and started redirecting the laser to solve the test.
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"Glasses make you look stupid. On other people they made them look smart, but you just look stupid. That's not me talking, by the way. In your file here a scientist has noted that on you, they just make you look stupid. Wait a moment, it seems I have misread. It says that glasses make people look smarter, also in your case, it's just that your intelligence is so abysmally low to begin with, even glasses don't make you look even average."
When the human didn't answer, she went on, talking more slowly:
"To put it in a way you can understand, you are a moron."
"I am NOT a moron!"
Regretting letting her get to him, he continued:
"I've been solving your tests, haven't I? Could a moron do that?"
"Stumbling your way through these extremely easy tests can hardly be called a sign of great intelligence.
Even still, science needs all kinds of test subjects, and for example your aerial performance has been most enlightening."
Wheatley flinched at the memory of the first test with the Faith plates. He hadn't expected being launched in the air, holding onto the Portal Device for dear life. Unfortunately, he had not held on his glasses, and had lost them somehow during his flight.
And ended up crawling on all fours around the chamber, feeling the floor with his hands, trying to locate his glasses, while GLaDOS made insightful comments (You were flying like a bird, a headless chicken, to be exact)
And all of the test chambers since then had had those plates. Of all of GLaDOS's toys, Wheatley hated those things the most. Those and the lasers. And the turrets. And the floor that killed you. Now that he thought about it, making a list of things he didn't hate in these tests was a much easier task.
--------------------------------
The doors of the lift opened, letting the test-subject out. He was just about to head to the test-chamber proper, when a voice stopped him.
"You didn't use it."
Wheatley turned around, trying to locate the source of the sound.
"Use what?"
He noticed the familiar green optic peering behind a dislodged panel, the robot travelling on a rail in the narrow space between the walls.
"Hey, you're okay. How are you okay? I thought I saw her crush you, really good to see you, though."
"I... I'm okay."
She sounded taken a back, but soon recovered, and continued with her normal matter-of-factly tone:
"We don't have much time, and it's not important. And you already should know I survived. What I want to know is why you didn't follow the plan."
"We had a plan? Apart from the one that included getting out of here in an escape pod and that kinda backfired, unfortunately. I haven't been following any plan here, apart from the basic one that includes trying to avoid dying, or any bodily harm, really. And in case of finding an opening, fleeing as fast as I could."
"Haven't you been reading my messages?"
"What messages?"
"The ones I left on the signs you get on every test chamber. The ones with the number of the chamber on it and information about the possible hazards?"
"I don't read those!"
"You... don't? Why? Although that explains why you didn't get the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device Portal Response Modulator."
"What?"
"It doesn't matter now. You already passed the chamber in question."
"I'm just curious, as to what the plan would have been. Mostly, if it had been any good. Since if it wasn't, missing it wouldn't be such a big deal and might even be a good thing. Not that I'm saying a plan you would come up with would be a bad one, although I don't really know you and your record of plans isn't too good since the last one wasn't exactly successful and in fact resulted in a complete opposite of a success, what with waking her up and all, which actually wasn't totally your fault, now that I think about it."
"I managed to hide the Modulator inside the Storage Cube in Chamber 10. The-"
"The chamber with the sodding aerial plates on the walls? The one where I was bounced around the place like a bloody ping pong ball?"
"I think that is the one, yes, although I don't really have much data on ping-pong. In any case, I left you instructions on how to attach the modulator on your Portal Device. Had you used it, you would have been able to create a portal that corresponded to a specific Automatic Portal Generator on the other part of the facility and escape through it."
"Blimey, that sounds like a good plan, actually. You should have told me about it. I know you tried, so I guess we are both at fault here. Do you have any other plans to get me out of here?"
The voice rang over the speaker system, reminding them of just where they were:
"Are you making friends with the elevator now? If you are lonely and looking for someone mentally equal to talk to, I can send some turrets there to keep you company."
"I'll have to go. Just act like you never saw me, and keep going through these tests. I'll get back to you."
And with that, she was gone.
Wheatley hurried into the chamber, hoping GLaDOS wouldn't suspect anything. Thankfully, she seemed more interested in showing off new test-components than interrogating the human on his tardiness:
"These bridges are made of natural light that I pump down from the surface. Warm, gentle sunlight. Although, given your pasty complexion, you'd burn in a minute and get some kind of horrible skin-disease, so you should be thanking me for keeping you here, away from it."
"Don't be stupid, you can't make a bridge out of light!"
He blurted the first thing that came to his mind, nervous that GLaDOS would notice something odd in his behaviour. In actuality, something like this wouldn't really surprise him at this point.
Bridges made from light? Ridiculous! Now let me get back to carrying cubes on buttons using a gun that shoots magic doorways so an insane computer with a woman's voice doesn't gas me to death.
He climbed on the shining blue bridge. It seemed solid enough, even making a somewhat metallic clank when his boots hit it.
He jumped up and down few times on the bridge, and yelled:
"See? Not something I could do with light, or anything made from light, it's not like light is water, liquid like a... water, that you can freeze, and then you have ice that you can walk on..."
Also turrets, can't forget those! I would like to meet the person who decided to give them that voice. Scratch that, staying far away from people like that would have kept me away from here in the first place.
"Your behaviour is peculiar, even for an insane murderer such as you. Maybe I need to re-adjust the amount of adrenaline vapour in your oxygen supply. You do know what I'm talking about, right? Do you even have any idea how much trouble I go to fulfil your needs, such as breathing? I'm guessing you haven't even thought about that. No, you just stumble around, using oxygen and producing carbon dioxide, just taking all my hard work for granted. It's not like on the surface where air is just readily available, I need to recycle the air you use, take off the carbon dioxide, freshen it up, and pump back in for you to use again. It's one of those things you just aren't going to appreciate before it's gone, I guess..."
Something between a gasp and a nervous giggle escaped Wheatley.
Deciding he needed to get her (as well as his) mind off such topics as oxygen and suffocation, he shot a portal on a random spot on the wall, and started solving the test.
However, the feeling that she could decide to just kill him off any minute was difficult to shake. But there was a question he hadn't found an answer to, although whenever it came up, he did his best to ignore it in fear of what answers he would come up with.
Why hasn't she killed me yet?
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GLaDOS turned her attention to the camera-feed from the next test-chamber, awaiting her test-subject's arrival. He was between chambers, so she had still some time to interact with him according the test protocols. Not that she couldn't break that rule if she wanted, but they were doing science here, and at least one of them could stay professional.
She turned on the speakers in the room as he entered the chamber:
"How are you feeling, by the way? Most test-subjects experience some loss of muscle mass during cryogenic sleep, and it seems to me you're even skinnier, if that's even possible, than before."
She turned off the audio- feed to avoid hearing his protests, she would listen it later, of course, and go through all his reactions in fine detail, but right now she had a lot to think about, and didn't feel like humoring him by replying to his babbling.
She couldn't believe this moron had been the one to defeat her.
Not a scientist, not an engineer, not even a full-time employee.
Part of her, a big part, in fact, wanted to just smash him to bits, or fill the test-chamber with turrets and no portal surfaces, or just drop the elevator he was in to the incinerator or use the old trusty deadly neurotoxin.
But on the other hand...
She needed him. Thanks to the state of her facility all of the test subjects stored in the relaxation vaults were dead.
And although she hated to admit it, when watching him stumble his way through the tests, there was some of that old satisfaction she hadn't gotten from testing for such a long time.
And it bothered her.
Sure, he solved the tests, but most of the time, he did it all wrong, and causing damage to her facility, which definitely was NOT a good thing.
So why wasn't her reaction completely negative?
She focused her attention on the cameras in the chamber.
The test subject had found his way to the Cube Dispenser, and was now lifting the Aperture Science Weighted Storage Cube in order to carry it on the button.
Or trying to lift it.
GLaDOS used the communication system to provide him with appropriate commentary:
"Having trouble? I guess I shouldn't be surprised."
Of course she shouldn't. She had calibrated the Cube Dispenser on purpose to dispense cubes 100 times heavier than the standard ones.
She fizzled the cube out of existence, and continued:
"Not everyone spends all their time in the gym, I realize that. Admirable, really, how you don't seem to care about your looks at all. Here, try this one."
Of course, he couldn't lift this one either. Even with the Aperture Science Gravity Weakening Tractor Beam, lifting something this heavy was impossible for a human.
"Oh, dear. I better give you one of the cubes used in the test courses meant for little children."
She dropped one of the normal cubes for him.
"By the way, it's really nice to see a human male not obsessed with physical fitness."
She watched her test subject kick the wall in frustration, resulting in one of the panels coming loose and almost falling on him. Despite her efforts, the test chambers were still not up to standard. A test subject, even as violent as this one, should not be able to damage the walls this easily.
As she watched him drag the panel across the chamber to a place where he could use it to get a portal where he wasn't meant to, and completely skip a part of the test, it hit her.
He quite often managed to surprise her. Even if his reactions at times were extremely predictable, as she had learned from insulting his intelligence, the human regularly came up with solutions no other test subject ever had.
And a part of her had come to enjoy it.
This was not good.
Unpredictability was something that led to data points all over the place without any noticeable trend, and in rare cases, being blown up by a moron.
And as much as she enjoyed tormenting him to collect data for science, she could not risk him causing any more damage to the facility. Or even her.
There had to be a solution to this.
She should attempt to find a way to test without humans. Devoting a bulk of her processing power on coming up with a solution, she told him after the test, almost absent-mindedly:
"Oh, according to your results, your performance in this test was average. You've been improving- wait, I was accidentally using the grading system for little girls. Let me see how your score compares to other adult males... You got the worst score ever. Yes, that's much more in line with your past performance."
------------------------------------
Wheatley stepped in the next test chamber. Ever since he had met with the small robot again he had dutifully checked every sign on the entrance of every test chamber, but had not found any messages or signs from his ally.
He hoped she hadn't just given up on him. He'd probably have to come up with a plan of some kind on his own, just in case. Too bad he was rather low on ideas at the moment. And every test-chamber looked tidier and cleaner than the last, so his hope for escaping through a hole in the panelling overlooked by his captor was getting slimmer and slimmer every minute.
He was just pondering at what point he would be desperate enough to consider throwing the portal gun in a laser-beam and hoping it would create a magic black hole leading out of there, when a comment from GLaDOS shook him out of his reverie.
"I was going through the frozen test subjects, and made a discovery I think you'll find interesting. How common a last name is Wheatley, do you think?"
Wheatley bit his lip, deciding not to reward her with an answer. He had decided to try silent treatment. She wanted silent test subjects? Well, let's see how she liked it.
Nonplussed, the computer continued after the test (really surprising how those light-bridges would react to being directed to the deadly liquid, he would have to remember that)
"You are never going to believe who is here with me. Maybe, if you solve the next test in a satisfactory manner, I'll let her talk to you..."
Wheatley wondered if keeping quiet would make the computer get bored with him. In any case, he was sure his feelings were obvious, he had never been any good at hiding his emotions, something he considered his greatest flaw. That and his rotten luck.
The next test chamber was a lot smaller than any of the previous ones. But it proved to be much more challenging. There were three lasers, and three receptacles where he knew he'd have to direct the beams to in order to open the door.
But there wasn't enough prism cubes he could use to get the beams where he wanted to. He tried using the portals to redirect them, but that still left one unlit.
It became obvious to him; this was an impossible test. The crazy computer had given him an unsolvable puzzle.
"Now who's a moron? You've made a mistake, this test is impossible, and broken."
No answer.
Maybe she had finally gotten bored with him and decided to leave him to starve to death as an experiment.
"I give up, hear me? I've had enough of your bloody tests, even if I solve this, you're just going to stick me into another flipping button-pushing test-chamber-thing."
The little voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the situation he was in, and how making the insane AI that held him on her mercy even more angry was not a good idea. But he ignored the voice, as he was in the habit of doing. Wheatley was hungry, and tired, and his head hurt and he really needed to use the bathroom but even if he came across one, how was he supposed to do his business while she was watching, and he was just so fed up with all of this!
"I'm sick and tired of being bossed around by you! I've had enough of this! And you know what else I'm tired of! Eh?"
"I'm tired of you acting like the victim here. You tried to kill me first. On several occasions! It was self-defence! And you got better." He stopped, rather anticlimactically, unable to put into words just how unfair all of this was.
Frustrated, he lifted one of the cubes and flung it at the door, as hard as he could. It bounced right back, and almost hit him on the head.
"Aperture Science Enrichment Center would like to inform you that the test-chamber doors have been refitted to withstand forces up to 500 kilo Newton to avoid damage to the equipment and to force the test-subjects to follow the proper test solving guidelines. Also, your mother never loved you."
So the computer had been probably watching him all the time. Probably laughing at herself, enjoying seeing him almost barbecue himself on several occasions.
The anger gave him new strength and resolve. Just one more try, this time he would think it through very carefully. He lifted the prism cube, catching the closest beam with it.
Now then, let's see.
He turned towards the door.
BBZZZT!
He jumped back, dropping the cube, leaving the beam free to get to him. Quarter of an inch to the left, and it would have burned more than just his jumpsuit. Still, he had achieved a result of some kind.
It seemed GLaDOS hadn't thought of making the doors laser-proof.
Pleased with himself, he stepped through, carefully avoiding the shower of sparks coming from the doorframe. But his good mood soon disappeared, when he heard the voice again:
"Incredible. You continue to find new ways to be a complete failure. Your parents must be really proud. Wait a second, we can find out right now."
He stepped in the lift, doing his best to ignore the voice, making a show of peeling back his burned jumpsuit, revealing the white T-shirt with an Aperture logo underneath. He tied the sleeves around his waist, hoping they wouldn't get caught in anything.
"Ah, it seems she doesn't want to talk to you. Since you are a disappointment to her and your entire family. That's sad. But don't worry, I'm sure she will change her mind eventually. And I will certainly be doing my best to bring your family back together."
She sounded happy.
Cold shivers ran on Wheatley's back as the lift started to move, but his thoughts were interrupted by the curious behaviour of the lift.
Instead of smoothly slowing down it started to slightly shake, screeching noises accompanying this, before it came to a jerking halt.
Wheatley couldn't see anything but dark on the other side of the glass doors.
Then they opened, revealing a dimly lit corridor that looked like it was meant for maintenance, a catwalk crossing through diagonally from where he was looking. It didn't look like the lift was supposed to stop there.
"Quickly, come, before the elevator starts moving again."
Like on cue, he could feel the lift start moving slowly, and jumped out. The lift continued up without its passenger, the doors still open and an occasional spark flying from where the capsule-like frame met the tube.
Wheatley climbed on the catwalk, making his way towards the now-familiar green light.
"Where are we?"
"I redirected the elevator here, to the maintenance shaft. But we are still close to where it was supposed to take you, and have to get as far as here as possible before she notices you are gone."
The voice of GLaDOS ran through, muffled, but still far too close for Wheatley's comfort.
"What are you doing in there? You are aware it's an elevator, right? If you are doing any of your disgusting human business in there-"
The voice faded as they hurried, the human walking briskly, not risking to run in the dim light, and the AI speeding on one of the black railings criss-crossing through the corridor. In several places they took most of the space, so he had to ran hunched and once almost crawl.
Several smaller ways parted from the big one they were travelling, maintenance rails branching there, most likely leading to other parts of the facility.
And then the whole structure shook.
"She has noticed you are gone."
Her voice was serious and calm, with no sign of the panic he felt.
Wheatley broke into run, not caring if he risked tripping over something in the dark.
Behind him, he could hear a loud crash, and as he run, he felt like the corridor itself was tilting, and when it shook with a sudden jolt he realised this was indeed the case. But even more alarmingly, he could see a wall closing on himself on both sides.
"Run!"
He didn't need to be reminded of that, but he was a bit confused as to where exactly he could run to. Unable to see the little robot anywhere, he headed towards the light and found himself in a bigger space.
But in a space that was gradually getting smaller.
With a crash, the walls crushed the tube structure he had been in between them, the screech of bending metal deafening to his ears.
"Get on the elevator!"
For a moment, he couldn't see it, automatically looking for a lift similar to those that had transported him from one test-chamber to the next.
Noticing the brown industrial-looking lift that was more likely meant for transporting tools and machinery than humans, he got in. With disbelief, he watched from the rising lift the walkway he had been on mere seconds before get bent out of shape and crushed as the walls came together.
GLaDOS had tried to crush him between two test-chambers.
If she could move huge parts of the place like that...
Could she still get to him?
The lift stopped, and he stepped out, trying to get his bearings. He'd have to stay on the move. He hoped she thought he had perished in that attempt, or that at least she would be slowed down by the destruction she has caused and it would take time for her to get him back in her sights.
But this looked like the part of the plan where he ran away as fast as he could without looking back.
Once he found his companion, that is.
Relieved, he could see the little robot speeding towards him on a rail, seemingly unharmed.
Wheatley waived at her, beckoning her closer.
Then the lights went out leaving them in the dark.
