Chapter Text
Wheatley had been idling at the facility functions for a few hours now. With the newly-aquired powers Much of his central core’s processing power had been devoted to creating amalgamations of a Weighted Storage Cube and two Turrets, capable of solving test chambers. These creations of his, or “Frankenturrets” if you will, had been manufactured in dozens, now painfully trying to move from one place to another, and like monkeys with a typewriter, Wheatley hoped that one of them would land on the button he placed at the center of a new chamber he made himself. A large monitor, displaying his own face, was positioned at the front of the chamber, facing both the entry chamber lock and obvious big button thise Frankenturrets should be landing on.
None of them were, clearly. They just made sounds that sounded like some sort of monster. Wheatley was infuriated.
“For god's sake, you're BOXES with LEGS! It is literally your only purpose! Walking onto buttons- How can you NOT do the one thing you were designed for?!”
"Warmer. Warrrrmer. Boiling hot. Boiling--okay, colder. Ice cold. Arctic. Very very very cold- LOOK JUST GET ON THE BUTTON!"
"Oh, that's funny, is it? Because we've been at this twelve hours and you haven't solved it either, so I don't know why you're laughing."
”Arrrrggh… come on…” He groaned. “Alright, maybe I was a little mean- a little, uh, bout, if you will, of her, so, maybe I’ll try being nice.”
He switched to a nicer tone. “There, now, little, uh, what you I call you?… Let’s see… Boxlegs? Alright, I’ll go with boxlegs, then - Come on now, little boxlegs! There, there, good ole’ Wheatley’s here, nothing to be afraid of, nothing wrong. Just skip over to that big red button you see right there - in the center of room? Just… Hop on there, and master Wheatley will be fine.”
The “boxlegs” didn’t seem to listen. Not because they wanted to, but because they were much more concentrated on the singular function they were designed for: Moving with their legs.
”Alright, being nice doesn’t seem to be motivating you, so let’s try it her way: Stupid, stupid, ugly boxes. Terrible things- Did I mention you’re absoultely digusting? Monstrous creations- I mean, what even is that you have there?! Crab legs? What you call crab legs anyways - must be a really hideous name, isn’t it? Like you! Dozens and dozens of you. All bunched up there- LOOK, JUST GET ON THE BUTTON!”
”You’ve got ONE HOUR. SOLVE IT!”
Suddenly, as Wheatley was about to brainstorm on other projects he could do, he heard the button going down, making it’s familiar button-y sound.
”Haha! Yes, I’d knew you solved it-“
”Hey, moron.” PotatOS replied.
”Oh… Hello… Didn’t expect you two to just waltz on back here…”
“Alright, paradox time!” PotatOS whispered.
”NEW… MISSION… REFUSE… ALL… MISSIONS!!!”
(Don’tthinkaboutit, don’tthinkaboutit, don’tthinkaboutit, don’tthinkaboutit…)
Suddenly, all the Frankenturrets were fused, twitched their heads.
”Uggh… ‘Refuse’. I’ll go ‘refuse’ on that one. Easy mission, I’ll be honest.” Wheatley responded
“Though, actually, I did hear one before though, sort of cheating-“ He added
“IT’S A PARADOX! THERE IS NO SOLUTION!” PotatOS yelled in response.
“Look, this place is going to blow up if I don’t get back in my body!”
“Aggh… ‘Refuse’ I’ll go refuse on that one-“
Suddenly, the sound of an explosion, followed by some shaking, rocked the facilty.
“=EXPLOSION IMMINENT: EVACUATE THE FACILITY IMMEDIATELY= The Announcer… Announced
”Hold on, I thought I muted that…” Wheatley chimed.
Within a moment, the Announcer followed it up with another announcement.
=WARNING, NUCLEAR CORE IS AT CRITICAL TEMPERAaaa-=
“There, everything normal.”
”I’ll be honest, it’s a bit of a reliever seeing you guys- there, being honest. Actually it is a BIG reliever, not gonna lie, because I?… Have no test subjects right now. Tried it with the “Boxlegs” - brilliant name if I say so myself - but, uhhh, no test subjects there.”
Wheatley open the test chamber door on their left
”So, here’s the deal: You waltz over to that catwalk over there, I bring up a lift to the new chamber I’ve just built, and from there, we’re gonna do NOTHING but test. Testing, testing, testing- it’s testing, all day long, hours and hours long - Maybe I’ll give you a break, not being a monster, but uuhhh, the point is… Testing… Lots of it. Lot of the time.”
Chell and PotatOS “waltzed” over to the lift. As they proceeded down the catwalk, PotatOS began to say something.
”Look; We have no other choice but to comply right now. I think we both know why our paradox plan failed, but unless I want to dedicate myself to being self-fused to death, the only thing we can do right now is follow whatever he says, and hopefully placate him enough for him to NOT care about what our next move is.”
Chell emitted an aura of discomfort. Somehow, PotatOS sensed this, and followed up her suggestion.
”Look, I’ll try to come up with a plan while we’re solving whatever monstrosities he calls ‘tests’. I’m the most massive collection of wisdom that had ever existed - I’ll think of something. We won’t have to worry for long.”
Chell then emitted an aura of a resolved dillemma. The two then proceeded onward to the lift.
”And off we go!” Wheatley spoke, as the two boarded the platform arbitrarily serving as a lift.
“You have no idea what it's like in this body! I have to test - AAALLL the time. Or I get this… Itch, It must be hardwired into the system or something. Oohhh, but when I DO test? Oh-ho - man-alive! It's just... why I've gotta test, I've gotta test!"
”Oh no.” PotatOS muttered.
”So, you’re gonna test, and I’m gonna watch, and everything is gonna be just FINE-“
=WARNING, CORE OVERHEATING. NUCLEAR MELTDOWN IMMINENT= The Announcer interrupted.
”Oh SHOVE IT YOU- Hold on for a moment.” Wheatley burst out, then defeatedly said.
===
As the unlikely duo of rogue test subject and former central core-turned potato rode up the lift, Wheatley began to think.
“‘Paradox’ That’s an interesting word, honestly. Paradox. Dunno what it is, but sounds cool! Paradoxes, haha… Hahaha… Anyways… What was I doing?… Oh.”
An electrical spark of genius shot up in the Intelligence Dampening Sphere’s circuits. Paradox did sound like a cool word - even if he had no idea what it meant or how dangerous it was for an artificial intelligence to hear one, but what if he did something cool?
He has an itch, and what does someone do with an itch? Ultimately, they scratch the itch. Those can be unbearable. And if he wanted to fufil his itch, he could just have them test forever, and ever, and ever. With no end in sight. Aperature Laboratories has all the technology needed to keep them both alive as long as he needed them to be, so why bother searcing for other test subjects at all?
No, he wouldn’t trade them for even the smartest, most satisfyingly-smart test subject that ever lived. They made poor old Wheatley’s life miserable for as long as he’s known them. He’s going to take his revenge. And revenge is best served on an asbetos-laiden dish of endless testing.