Being Human

Or, A Scientific Study on the Behavioral and Social Aspects of Homo Sapiens in its Natural Habitat Facilitated through the use of an Aperture Science Personality Construct

Copyright Notices: The Documentation here is in no way official property or creation of Aperture Science, a subsidiary of VALVe. "Wheatley's Song" is also property of the musical group "Miracle of Sound".

Chapter 1: Wheatley's Song

"Now I only want you gone…" That Aperture Science Digital Employee Notification Monitor had been going on and on about GLaDOS wanting someone gone as it drifted through space for hours. "Space Monitor! Call the space cops! That space monitor's space contraband because it's in SPAAAAACE!"

"Please! Please! Can you stop talking about space for one… bloody… minute?" The Aperture Science Intelligence Dampening Sphere, affectionately referred to by its programmers as "Wheatley" for a reason the construct did not know, exclaimed. Of course as there was no way to transmit sound in space no actual noises were made, the two cores were in fact communicating via radio waves. "Wait a second… radio waves?" Wheatley pondered as if having heard the narration. "That's it! I can send a message to Her and tell Her to turn that stupid monitor off." It seemed that for once Wheatley might have come up with an actual good idea.

"No, gotta give it to the space cops! Need it for space interrogation, collect space evidence!" The Space Core lowered its optic shielding in a way that on a human eye would be described as a glare.

"There are no bloody space cops!"

"Guilty! Guilty of… not believing in space cops!" The space core rolled around in frustration and anger. "You are a traitor! A traitor to SPACE!" A comet flew by and the Space Core was immediately distracted and forgot about his companions transgressions against space. "Space comet! Mhm, black holes! Maybe black hole comets?" Wheatley paid no attention to the other personality core as he instead focused his attention on transmitting a radio broadcast to GLaDOS. He figured if GLaDOS was going to annoy him with that "Want You Gone" song, he'd annoy her right back.

During his time as a power-mad omnipotent master of the Computer-Aided Enrichment Center Wheatley had composed a song that he intended to sing to Chell, right before crushing her with a mashy-spike plate, yet he never got the chance. However now free from GLaDOS' corrupting chassis he had no desire to crush anyone; but felt it might still be an appropriate song to sing to Aperture's artificial mistress.

"'Ello," An accented voice GLaDOS had hoped to never hear again resounded through her chamber. At first she was more surprised that the moron was smart enough to activate his long distance radio transmitter than anything. But then Wheatley started to… sing. "This is the part where I serenade you! Space Core, hit it!" The Space Core began to make some rhythmic beats.

"I've got brains to burn - no ordinary AI in this ball
Every culture and philosphy - I've read up on them all
I've been living in your shadow for 999999
Keeping tabs on every machination and production line

So don't call me a moron
I'm super astute
There is no conundrum that my core cannot compute
No don't call me a moron
You fostered balloon
My IQ's the infinite space from here to the moon
My IQ's the infinite space from here to the moon

I have studied Machiavelli, Aristotle, Gabe and Plato
Yet you still equate my intellect to that of a potato
This place would fall apart without my ever watchful eye
They might tell you I'm a halfwit, it's a great big bloody lie

So don't call me a moron
I'm super astute
There is no conundrum that my core cannot compute
No don't call me a moron
You fostered balloon
My IQ's the infinite space from here to the moon
My IQ's the infinite space from here to the moon

I know my way around here, every catwalk every cave
And since you're dead I've quite appreciated not being your slave
Maybe someday I might get to taste the big time for a change
There's so much I'd do for science here, so much I'd rearrange

So don't call me a moron
I'm super astute
There is no conundrum that my core cannot compute
No don't call me a moron
You fostered balloon
My IQ's the infinite space from here to the moon
My IQ's the infinite space from here to the moon"

Finally the moron ceased singing. "See! How do you like having to hear someone else singing? Don't think you do, 'eh?" GLaDOS' internal temperature rose several degrees as her processors hummed with furry and annoyance.

"It seems that leaving you to rot in space was too lenient a punishment. " Wheatley's optic retracted and the core began to shudder. "But I think I have a much more interesting punishment. And not only will you suffer for my amusement, but you will suffer for science!"