Work Text:
As he turns on, his eye moves to below him. A handle, resting on a smooth, white table, slightly illuminated by a single big, bright, blue optic. His eye moves to the wall. White tile, shelves filled with paperwork, computers with advanced code that a core like him could never even BEGIN to understand. His eye moves to the ceiling. A light, flickering on and off, hangs above him at the center of the room, as it’s circled by a fly or two.
He knows this room. He knows where he is. He was built here. He lives here.
And it isn't the first time he's wondered if he'll die here.
He hears the click-click-clacking of a nearby keyboard. The little frustrated mumbles of a familiar voice. He feels the wires attached to him, keeping him connected to the computer to his right. He knows. He’s afraid to look.
But his eye moves to the right.
Dressed in a labcoat, working at a computer. One of them. The specific one that was stuck with what was essentially core-babysitting duty most of the time. That was the best way he could think to describe it.
As soon as he lays his eye on him, he freezes. He knows what’s happening. He knows what he’s working on. He knows. But there’s no way…
“…H- Hello?”
The scientist’s glance doesn’t move away from the computer screen at first. But, eventually, he turns to Wheatley with a sigh and a piercing glare. It’s nothing new to him. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. He winces a bit.
“…Hello! Boss!”
The glare doesn’t falter. Not even for a moment.
“...I was hoping that you wouldn't wake up for this procedure.”
The core takes a deep breath. Kind of. He can’t really ever BREATHE, but… he can make breathing NOISES. Same thing, right?
He can get through this. He’ll play along. He’ll get it over with.
“Um. Well, tha- that sucks for you, then. Mate. Because I’m here! AND awake! Crazy, I know, right? Weird coincidence, that those both happen at the same time. Being here AND awake, I mean, that's... hehehe…!”
He coughs. Goddamit Wheatley, don’t drag this out for longer then it needs to be. Don’t fuck it up again. Shut your mouth for once.
“So, uhhhh… ! About that whole… procedure thing. That you mentioned. …What’s THAT all about?”
The scientist sighs. “…I.D.S.”
Hehatedthatname, hehatedthatname, hehated-
“…What?”
“I.D.S. That is you. That is what you're called. …Tell me. Do you know what those letters stand for?”
Yes he does.
“Uh. …Nope! Personally, I- I’m just- Oh boy. I’m drawing a blank here. Really.”
“Then I suppose we must have done SOMETHING right. How many times have we gone over- ?!”
…He pauses. Stopping himself from saying whatever it was that he was going to say.
“It's... an acronym. Do you know what that is? An acro-"
“YES! Yes, I- I know what that is! Know that very well! Thank you very much. Uhhh, what- what about it?”
"...It stands for ‘Intelligence Dampening Sphere’. That is what you are. And yet, even after SEVERAL attempts, mind you… the Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System’s intelligence still remains… how do I put this in a way you'll understand… un-dampened.”
“Ooooh. Undampened. Tha- I mean, that's a bit of a harsh way to put things, isn't it? Undampened. I mean, in general too, like 'dampen' on it's own is just a- just a gross-sounding word, really, isn't it? You should try something a bit, er... nice sounding. I'd say. Liiiike, ooh! How about smarts... taking... um. Sphere? No. Okay, no, tha- that one actually sounds WORSE, now that I hear it out loud, b- but you get my point, right, it's just-”
“I am NOT done.”
The human leans on the table, looming over Wheatley with an intimidating glare. But despite that, he seems to barely care. He isn’t angry, just… annoyed. With him.
“…My point is… as much as it pains me to SAY this… We’re no longer going to need your… ‘services’. I.D.S.”
“…Aaaaand… you mean… wh- what by that…?”
He knows. He already knows. Why is he asking this question? Why is he dragging this out longer then it has to be? This is so, SO… stupid.
“Well. Even for someone as dense as yourself…”
The core winces again. Pleasestoptalkingpleasestoptalkingpleasestop
“…I don’t think I need to explain why an Intelligence Dampening Sphere that doesn't properly dampen one’s intelligence is a bit of a handicap. That... and we're running short on scrap metal. So that's a pretty big factor in things too.”
A handicap. A handicap. He’s heard this before. He’s heard this ALL before, why does he have to hear it again? He knows. He already knows.
“…Y- You’re, um… boss, you’re- you’re getting rid of me? Is that what I’m… supposed to be getting from this? Because, no offense here, but you ARE being sort of vague and all that, I- I feel like I'm maybe not getting the specifics here. Like, could you- ?”
“Yes. We're getting rid of you. I don't know how you didn't get that.”
And for whatever reason, that clarification is the thing that brings the realization on. Maybe it's the way he says it so... nonchalantly. The same way you'd talk about taking the trash out. What he's about to do to him... is it really on that same level of importance...?!
“You will be deactivated and kept in storage until we can find a suitable replacement AI for your core. Either that, or like I said, we get some extra scrap metal. Just so you don’t go COMPLETELY to waste. Then we ca-”
“WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT! W- J- Just wait!” Wheatley interrupts.
Why does he do this? Who knows. In fact, he begins to scream at himself internally as soon as he does. What is he doing? Why is he trying to make this take longer? It’ll all be better if he just shuts up, or he might end up saying something he regrets. But he says something anyways. And the stare that’s given to him? Yes. Yes, that IS in fact creating a lot of regret.
“…Alright. Look. Hear me out here. I just- I- I just wanted to ask, you know, just... are you sure that that’s completely necessary? Honestly? I- I mean, believe me, boss, I bet you’ve got it all under control, don’t get me wrong, but- but hear me out! Hear me out. Again. Hear me out AGAIN, I've already... said that. Haven't I...? Um. …What if you… DIDN’T… kill me. …How about that?”
The scientist looks as if he’s either about to groan in annoyance or burst out laughing. The fact that he can’t tell which bothers Wheatley.
“…What… else are we supposed to do with you, then? I believe I made my point clear. An Intelligence Dampening Sphere that cannot dampen intelligence is useless.”
“I mean… yeah! Yeah, sort of! Sort of. But… what if… I just. Did something else? Like- Like a different job? Or something? You know, I bet I’d make a GREAT test… thingy… designer. I bet I’d do REALLY good at that, like, you know, draw up some chambers, watch the people run through them, all that. Wouldn’t that be nice? That’d be nice, right?”
The stare given to him in return does not seem impressed.
“…Okay. So you’re not going for that idea. I get it. I mean, look at me. How am I supposed to draw something, I don’t even have HANDS. But what if I was, like, uh- uh, one of those programmer guys? Eh?! Yeah. I bet I’d be absolutely AMAZING there. In that department. I’ll tell ya, one of these days, I am going to become a MASTER hacker, I swear. And that's the same thing, right? You know, hackiiiiing, programmiiiing, same thing! O- Or- OR- !”
“Stop. Stop right there. I’ve heard enough.”
Wheatley feels as if he's shrinking, somehow. Even if that isn't really the case.
“…I.D.S. I appreciate the enthusiasm. I really do. And I am only telling you the truth when I say this. So don't take this personally. …But you have to understand something. Alright?”
“…Alright…?”
They make eye contact, Wheatley nervously fidgeting with his handles as the human leans down to his level, as if he was a kid. He feels so small. Tiny. Insignificant.
“Here's the thing. You were unable to properly hinder the central core. This is true. But, see, the problem is not that we failed to emulate stupidity in you. No. You are very, very obviously… an idiot. And it will stay that way. Again, don't take this personally, but every idea you have and will EVER have, without fail, will be utterly. Idiotic. They’re the product of your brain coming up with the WORST possible idea for EVERY situation at ALL times. It is in your programming to do so. There is no doubt that we have created. A moron. One that cannot even do it’s job of BEING a moron… correctly. Now, I'm not quite sure if that makes you a success or a failure.”
“But it looks like most of us have been leaning towards 'failure'. So, in Aperture's eyes, that's what you are.”
Is it possible for a robot to cry?
Apparently. Apparently one can, or at least emulate something close to it. Something like the sniffles and muffled, barely held back sobs that are coming from Wheatley now.
Bloody hell, not THIS again.
He attempts to say something, ANYTHING in response to that. But nothing comes out. Nothing comes to mind. Nothing but that one particular word that always seems to follow him wherever he goes. Moron.
And then finally, eye contact is broken as the human returns to his computer.
“…And so. While I do appreciate the enthusiasm, and I AM very sorry, of course, as I said, we really can't have you in any other position here at Aperture. So you will be deactivated. Do you understand?”
Usually, this would be the part where he says yes. Where he goes along with it.
…But no. No, he doesn’t understand.
“…So you’re… S- So you’re just going to kill me?”
“Kill is a strong word for-”
“N- No, I don't- I don't think it is! I think that's a perfect way to describe this! Actually! You’re just going to KILL me. Is that it? A- And then throw me away, like- like LITERAL trash?! Leave me behind, just like that? It’s that simple? …Are you serious?”
“Now, don’t be so overdramatic. You won't feel a thing.”
The human doesn’t even look up from his work to look at him. Barely even listening. Mocking him, practically. How dare he?
“…No. No, y- you can’t just DO that!”
“I very much can. And also have to.”
“NO! NO, YOU- You can’t j- I! Have done everything! For you! And you’re just going to get RID of me, just like that?!”
“You have not done EVERYTHING, you have done LESS then nothing!” The scientist snaps back, getting up from his seat just to glare at him once again. “Intelligence Dampening Sphere, you have not done your job, and many lives have been lost, now allow me to do this with some peace and quiet, I am almost do-”
“I DIDN’T EVEN WANT THIS JOB!”
He has long since stopped holding back the tears... well. The metaphorical ones, anyways. He’s too furious to care.
“HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT THAT?! HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT HOW M- MAYBE I DON’T WANT TO BE AN IDIOT?! ANYMORE?! EH?! HAVE YOU?!”
The human leans in close to Wheatley. “That is not how this WORKS. Have you not been listening?! It's literally in your PROGRAMMING, did you not hear that?! Would you prefer that I wish that away? This isn't a Disney movie. It is for both everyone’s and your OWN good that you-“
“Ohhhh, IS it now?! IS it really?! Because NOTHING’S ever for my own good, it’s all about what the big old boss wants, isn’t it?! ISN’T IT, BOSS?!”
“I will have you DISASSEMBLED piece by piece, if you do not stop talking right now, you moron- !”
“I! AM NOT! A! MORON!”
He screams.
He screams so loudly, he can feel the strain in his voice box. And he screams, desperately, right into this human’s face. This human who has complete control over whether or not he lives and dies.
And the regret shows as his optic changes from burning anger to… fear. He did it again, didn’t he?
The scientist takes a step back, caught off guard by the scream. The look of anger has found a new home on HIS face now, as his glare seems to pierce through Wheatley’s very soul. If he even HAS one of those.
“…That. Was a mistake.”
...
Wheatley remembers a few things. He remembers the room steadily getting darker. The scientist making comments that he slowly began to understand less and less. With each passing second, everything faded away a little more. And it hurt. He was doing this slowly on purpose. He KNEW he was. He could have just shut him down all at once, but no. Every little thing and function in him slowly shut off as he watched. He screamed. Pleaded. Apologized. Promised to do everything that was asked of him, that he’d be better if they just gave him a second chance, until he couldn’t figure out how to speak anymore. Maybe he had already taken away his ability to do so. Who knows, he couldn't tell.
He didn’t listen.
He never listened.
And he didn't now
As Wheatley faded away.
Into the void.
...
A little spark of consciousness remains. And it seems content to stay. Just to watch as the darkness that encases his mind laughs. Mocks him. Repeats that dreaded word over and over again, for what will surely be the rest of his days.
You’re a moron. It doesn’t matter what you say. It doesn’t matter what you do. Because you’re a moron. Why can’t you just listen, moron?
And it’s right. God. If only he had kept his mouth shut.
It’s not like he doesn’t deserve this, of course. He’s had it coming for a long time now. This is where a moron like him belongs. Alone. Unable to annoy anyone, or hinder anyone. Unable to mess things up more then he already has.
The neverending darkness agrees. It laughs at his misery. Such a pathetic, unlovable, tiny, insignificant, little moron.