Portal: GLaDOS and Me - Chapter One
Portal: GLaDOS and Me
Characters: Wheatley, GLaDOS
Synopsis: Wheatley, hacker under the employ of Aperture Laboratories, somehow ends up on the GLaDOS Project. His job: To teach her until she’s able to learn on her own. But as happens with the best students, Wheatley ends up being the one learning the lessons… Core!GLaDOS, Human!Wheatley.
“There it is.”
“Why’ve you brought me here, anyway? I thought… I don’t have clearance for this project, Henry. We could both be in, well, things could go um, very badly for both of us.”
Henry slapped an arm around his shoulders and led him into the room. “You’ve got clearance today, Wheatley. Let’s go.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Wheatley noticed droves of scientists rushing back and forth, connecting and disconnecting long spools of wire, marking dow
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Characters: GLaDOS, Wheatley (WheatDOS)
Setting: Post Portal 2 (following My Little Moron)
Part One. The Dream
Wheatley had an idea.
Even by GLaDOS’s definition of time, which put five minutes at being excruciatingly excessive, a lot of time had gone by. It had might have taken even longer, but luckily GLaDOS had been able to locate some of Wheatley’s backup files from a time when he’d been a Behavioural Core, and they’d been able to pick up where they’d left off. Which was to say, pretty good friends. It’d been a bit tense and rough at first, because The Incident was still very fresh in both their minds and neither of them were very happy about what had happened, but for some reason that had all gone away one day when GLaDOS had begun a very odd tangent of conversation.
“Do you ever wonder what happened to the test subject?”
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Characters: GLaDOS, Wheatley
Complete; Nine chapters plus an epilogue
The voice sounded like a turret.
The Sphere looked around nervously. The last time he'd been awake, he had been in something called a 'lab'. He was definitely not in the 'lab' now. This room was much bigger, and much brighter, and he suddenly realised he was now suspended high in the air. He wondered how he was managing to do that. He was sure he couldn't fly. He hoped he wouldn't fall. Once he had fallen off a table, and broken his optic. He hadn't been able to see for days, and it had been bloody frightening.
Is anyone there?
The turrets said that too, the Sphere remembered. Why was a turret speaking to him? Where was he, anyway? And where was Greg? He liked Greg. Greg was funny.
Come on. I know you're there.
Portal: GLaDOS and Me - Chapter ThreePortal: GLaDOS and Me - Chapter Three1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
Wheatley paced back and forth in front of Henry’s office, gnawing on his right thumbnail. Of all the days for Henry to take his time…
When he’d arrived home, Wheatley had tossed and turned for hours before rolling out of bed – literally, he’d rolled right onto the floor and smacked his head on the nighttable – and dug around in his work bag, his jacket pocket, and yesterday’s jeans for his cell phone. He’d finally found it on the floor, but after confusedly stabbing at the keyboard for a few minutes, he discovered the battery was dead. As usual. He’d hurriedly plugged it into the charger and tripped down the stairs, heading for the kitchen. Two pieces of burnt toast and a bowl of soggy oatmeal later, he’d gone back upstairs to discover that the battery was still dead. Puzzled, he’d picked the charger up and inspected it, since it’d seemed pretty much working the la
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Characters: Wheatley, GLaDOS (WheatDOS) [humanisations]
Setting: Post Portal 2 [follows Butterfly Kisses]
Synopsis: When GLaDOS ignores Wheatley one too many times, something needs to change if either of them are to be happy
He’s barely seen her in at least a week.
This happens every now and then, though he never much likes it. It’s usually after he starts sulking that she snaps out of it and gives him a little more attention, but as of late she hasn’t noticed him at all. She’s been deeply immersed in some endeavour of Science, something to do with computer simulations and tiny little slides viewable only with extremely powerful microscopes, and he knows he won’t understand anything about it but he continues to ask anyway. If she’s in the right mood she will patiently explain it to him and he will do his best to pay attention. Lately, though, his voice goes in one ear and out the other.
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I hate Wheatley.
I hate him. I wish I'd left him in space where he belongs, that I'd done the job right when I destroyed his chassis, that I had corrupted him like I did the rest of those useless cores. That I'd thrown him out of my facility when I rid myself of the test subject and her Weighted Companion Cube. That I had never, ever opened that archive, and instead deleted it unseen, because I hate him, more than I have ever hated anything in my life, even more than those damnable, self righteous scientists...
I only wish I did.
It’s so much easier to hate someone than it is to like them.
I brought the little idiot out of space because, unlikely as it sounds, I missed him. Once I remembered who he was and what we’d been, I had an uncharacteristic sense of nostalgia come over me. One that I’m bitterly regretting entertaining. I should have known it was too good to be true.
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One of the best parts about their better friendship was that Gladys no longer had bad dreams. Even when things weren’t going so well, all she had to do was tell him, and he made it better. Sometimes, though, she would wake him up in the middle of the night ‘for old time’s sake’, and they would chat some more, and even though they spent all day talking they never seemed to run out of subjects. On these occasions she would still sing, but they were no longer sad songs, which he was very happy about. He was very glad to have had a real impact on her outlook on life. She never sang the same one twice, with one exception: she seemed to really like the one he had first heard her sing, and it seemed to fit her mood no matter what that happened to be. When he asked her why she liked it so much, she merely shrugged and did not answer.
The next morning, though, he had thought of something he needed to
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Wheatley hummed to himself as he went along on his management rail. Now things were more or less back to normal, he found himself in much higher spirits than he could remember having been in recently. It seemed his secret had been weighing on him more than he had thought, and he was certainly much happier, now that he could spend time with GLaDOS again. She wasn’t used to having someone around her all the time, though, so Wheatley continued to take his leave and roam around the facility for most of the day. Besides, he thought fondly as he passed a camera, she was never very far away, no matter how deep into the facility he managed to get.
Wheatley had become pretty good at using the panels to lay down more rail, and after a lot of practice he found that he didn’t need so many panels to lay the rail anymore. Before, he’d just used as many as he wanted and just left them there. In a flash
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“Hey,” Wheatley said quietly, half hoping she wouldn’t hear him. She most likely did, of course, but she didn’t turn around to face him. She was making blueprints, as far as he could tell. She seemed to prefer to do them by hand.
“You found it, then.”
“Congratulations. You succeeded at something.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked in a hushed voice, not knowing how hard he was to hear but not wanting to leave the safety of the doorway. She made one of her annoyed electronic noises.
“Why should I have to? You’re never here. It should’ve been obvious, even to you. I could have just left you in space, you know. I don’t do things without a reason.”
“I’m here –“ he started to protest, but she swung around to meet his optic, shaking her head.
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When Wheatley finally screwed up the courage to return to GLaDOS’s chamber a few hours later, GLaDOS glanced at him and said nothing. Well. That didn’t mean she was upset, not really. She often did that. Although she’d been doing it less often as of late. Hm. Maybe she was upset. He hoped not. She was hard to deal with when she was upset. Harder to deal with than usual, anyway.
“’allo,” he said nervously. “How’ve you been getting on?”
“Fine,” she said, and her voice was decidedly less friendly than usual. She was definitely mad at him for something, but for what, he didn’t know. “What do you want?”
“Well uh… I was tired of… of being by, by myself,” he mumbled. Out of the corner of his optic he thou
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The next morning he woke before she did, because he had carefully set his timer to have that happen, and he watched her. He felt terribly like he needed to protect her, somehow, but she was so big, and he was so small. Not just in size, either. Whatever attributes he had, she had them times ten. Or twenty. Yes, probably twenty. How did you protect someone who was so much bigger than you? He knew that Rick was identical in size to Wheatley himself, but Wheatley also knew firsthand just how much of an effect a tiny little core could have on one’s mind. Rick would slither his way into her brain, corrupt her, make her want to be Rick’s friend instead of Wheatley’s… poor GLaDOS. Poor, poor GLaDOS. She was so innocent and unsuspecting, hanging there like that. Vulnerable. Like a butterfly inside a cocoon. Ripe and ready
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After Wheatley had finished, because that was a marathon of talking, even for him, he stayed silent. GLaDOS finally looked up at him.
“You… you heard all of that, did you.”
He frowned. “Yeah. I heard it. Why?”
She shrugged a little, shaking her head. “If I’d known, I…”
“You’d’ve kept it to yourself?” Now it was his turn to shake his chassis. “They deserved to know.”
She was looking away from him again. “I suppose. Most of them are still pretty annoyed with you, you know. The mainframe in particular.”
“The mainframe didn’t, didn’t seem to, to like me very much. Kept telling me about how great you were and all that. Like I didn’t already know that.”
Her faceplate snapped up. “What?”
“Y’know, how you’re better at d
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GLaDOS had a room, a very special, secret room that he wasn’t allowed in, and this, of course, made him want to get in it more than anything. He cajoled her and he begged her and he endeared to her softer side, but she would only shake her head once in refusal and say nothing.
So Wheatley decided to find it.
Through the facility he went. He looked behind the stiffest panels and below the most movable floors. He went deeper than he’d ever gone and higher than he’d ever dreamed. He began to get discouraged. He knew the facility was massive, and he knew full well he could search for every second of the rest of his life and never find it. But he also knew that people preferred to be around people who were like them, and so Wheatley was going to have to take on GLaDOS’s determination and immovable nature if he wanted her to keep him around. And he was pretty determined and immovable,
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Wheatley bounded into her chamber a bit early the next morning, having thought of something new he could have her do with her maintenance arms, but to his surprise she was still in the default position, though as he got closer he could see that her optic was on. What was she doing? “GLaDOS?” he called out softly. “What is it?”
She lifted her core just enough to look at him, then looked back down. He frowned and nearly ran up to her, putting his box down and then lying down, scrambling beneath her. “What’s wrong?”
She looked down at him for a long, long moment, then hitched herself upward and brought a maintenance arm out of the ceiling. She tapped it on the lid of the box and he sat up, unlatching it quickly and flipping open the lid, and she took the truck out again and tapped at it. He was well and thoroughly confused now, but he opened it and spilled the cars o
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I detest this woman.
Wheatley, as usual, tried his best to look at what Gladys was referring to but, also as usual, he couldn't see. D'you think you could turn 'round a bit, um, so I can see what you're talking about?
Gladys obliged, moving her chassis just enough so that Wheatley could see the woman in question. She was tall, with squinty little eyes and her hair all piled on top of her head. She was wearing a ladies suit and high heels, and had little dabs of colour all over her face. Why do you, uh, why do you "detest" her?
She makes me look bad on purpose. Gladys moved her chassis again so that he was back facing the other way. She comes here with her face arranged in a different way every time and then expects me to recognise her. When I don't, she accuses me of being stupid.
She can rearrange her face?
She puts different face paint on, different glasses, and changes her hair.
Portal: My Little Moron - Chapter Four~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Portal: My Little Moron - Chapter Four1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
The following morning, Gladys was still upset about something, but whatever it was, she was keeping it to herself. Wheatley didn’t like the thought of Gladys being upset for so long and decided not to keep quiet any longer.
Ev’rything alright, Gladys?
I’m fine. A man named Greg is here to see you. Is he your human?
Greg was here? Why would he be here? Whatever the reason, Wheatley was always happy to see an old friend. Not that he’d ever seen any before. But he was still happy to see him. Yes, yes, Greg is my human! What d’you think of him?
He’s an idiot.
Oh. He should have guessed. There were very few humans that Gladys didn’t think were idiots. He couldn’t actually name one, but there had to be at least one, right?
“’allo, Greg! How’re you getting on?”
“Are you going to start doin
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Wheatley rather loved his life.
GLaDOS continued to sleep in for the next little while, though not as long as that first day, and Wheatley would stay beside her as long as he could. It was never more than an hour or two, because after that he simply had to get going, but when he was able to sit still he loved just sitting there in the darkness, listening to all the tiny little noises she made, and watching the light from her optic flare every now and then against the floor, and now and again he would catch a bit of a dream. During these days she would take her time waking up, doing it much the same way as that first time, though she did it less and less as time went on. He wished she wouldn’t stop. He loved those fluid, carefree movements, but they didn’t last very long. After a week and a half or two weeks, Wheatley wasn’t sure which, she was back to normal, and he wo
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GLaDOS, what’s gotten into you?
Hm? I honestly don’t know what she’s talking about this time.
You’re singing again. And you haven’t insulted me in days.
Oh, you’ve missed that, have you? Although I have to say I didn’t realise it was so out of character for me not to insult her. It merely hasn’t been occurring to me to do so.
What are you doing that’s got you so preoccupied? she presses. Don’t leave me in the dark here.
You have no sensory receptors. You’re not in the dark.
Fine. Don’t… not tell me.
If you must know, I’ve been writing a program.
It must be a damn good
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Wheatley wondered if it had been real, or if he was having a memory lapse of some kind. That wouldn’t’ve been completely out of the ordinary, but he’d hoped that he’d gotten that sorted by now.
He could have sworn he’d heard GLaDOS singing last night.
That was… well, bloody well impossible. Hm… unless he hadn’t been quite off yet when she’d started. Maybe she had, then.
Why would she never do it so he could hear? You’d think she was shy, or something.
Wheatley frowned down at the telephone he’d been inspecting. He didn’t how punching a bunch of little buttons let humans speak through wires to each other, but he thought GLaDOS might know, if he asked. But hold on there, Wheatley, he told himself. You were thinking about whether she’d sung or not.
If she had… that meant some
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As it turned out, GLaDOS loved to talk.
Wheatley had finally met someone who talked as much as he did, only she actually talked more, because he couldn’t answer all of her emails at the rate she sent them. She never wrote full messages, either, preferring to send them off one thought at a time, and he supposed if he were a supercomputer who could send emails faster than it took him to think the word ‘email’, he’d do the same thing. Half the time she seemed to be just sending him whatever she happened to be thinking about at the time, at one point complaining extensively about some badly written function in the mainframe programming, and he couldn’t make heads nor tails or it, let alone comment. She talked almost incessantly, but she seemed to understand that he was at work and couldn’t answer her straightaway,
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Illusions had never been an habit of hers; all along, in between the internships and the extra courses, she had guessed. She knew way before crossing that doorstep as an employee, for the first of countless times to come — no previous experience in the world could have fully prepared her for Aperture Science.
The place was already enormous, yet not enough for its ambitions. She had to notice, with attentive eyes, the tiniest details that fell under her gaze. She followed the unraveling of a vast net — it was made of lies and truth, of balance and mistakes, so fragile that it could be torn anytime by a single breath.
The good impression she left behind at work could not spare her nerves. When she met the sight of her home in the evening, it felt as if whole years had passed — she was a different person, tired in an entirely different way.
She stared at the darkness, swimming in a tangle of thoughts. She
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Wheatley was really growing to like Gladys. He had already liked her quite a lot to start with. But the more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. She wasn't like they said she was at all. He’d always been told she was cold, and cruel, and hated everyone and everything. That she wasn’t worth thinking too hard about, that she was unpleasant to be around, and she never gave anyone the time of day. He realised that no other AI had ever told him about her. Everything he knew about her came from humans, and he already knew that humans tried very hard to make themselves look good, even over obviously superior people. They acted like they were better than Gladys, of course, but sometimes the almost-scientists, the ones Gladys called 'interns', liked to pretend they were smarter than the actual scientists. Sometimes they would argue over who was the better employee, although those fi
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It was one of those days where Wheatley wondered if getting out of bed was worth it.
He stared dully up at the ceiling, mouth agape, wanting nothing more than to ignore his blaring alarm clock and curl up into a ball again, but there was a problem: he had to go to work. And he badly wanted to phone in and tell them he was sick, because his nose was well and thoroughly stuffed up and his throat sore and swollen, but he was reluctant to do so over a cold. Even if his head was pounding and his eyes hurt.
Groaning, he threw off the blanket and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, a hacking cough coming up out of his lungs. Great. If only GLaDOS could catch colds, he’d have had an excuse to stay home, but unfortunately he did not happen to have a computer virus. He tried to imagine what she might look like if she had a computer cold of sorts, but couldn’t. Oh well. Best time to get going, then.
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He will be back soon.
Well, not really soon, I amend, letting Orange and Blue know they’re done for the day. They’re a bit surprised when I don’t explode them, and even more surprised when I say that they’re free to do what they like with the remainder of the afternoon, upon which time I will be exploding them so that I can put them away for the night. Their confusion is quite amusing, Blue actually requesting that I explode them, but I chastise him for being silly, remind him of my benevolence, and cease communication. I have work to do and I don’t want to argue with them all afternoon about whether I’m going to blow them up or not. Which I am not. For another three hours, twenty-two minutes, anyway.
I affect repairs on one of my nanobots, which I never put in the reassembler because they always get lost. I