There was this another day. (Think not one of the days Invader Zim: Yet Another Real Life Invasion has covered, but no one knows for sure.)

This day for a particular blue-eyed personality core and the second dumbest moron who ever lived was somewhat special and memorable, because there was no empatheticAmazon to shove him into a kernelsprite. He was just going around Aperture Laboratories, checking if any test subjects were alive, because that was what he was doing for the last three hundred years.

The last test subject he found that was alive called herself Marissa Roberts. She immediately fell in love with him, just his British accent driving her compassionate, but Wheatley didn't like the odor of what she claimed were "special superpowers" and he just put her back to sleep. Or so he thought. Because he's a moron.

Then there was this guy. (Note that me naming him is the last thing I want to do because I hate him just that much, and I could go on years telling you what is wrong both with him and his stories.)

I still left him with the horrible mutilation that a green robot dog called "Gir" made when he was in the Zimverse. Of course, Aperture Science, being the evil faction wanting me to be the butt-monkey and clearly being subconsciously ruled by him, just had to give him a robo-eye so he was a hideous cyborg boy even though no one switched his organs around. They would get back, and I would be their ruler.

I looked at the place. It was organized just like eA told me it should. It had one bed, and one of the normal kind, not a Relaxation Vault. Paintings and classical music were supplied. I noticed a television screen I could use to laugh behind the fourth wall. And it was wonderfully completed with a mural by some insane scientist who also happens to be my husband.

Then I looked at the time. Just like two of your years ago, it just had to be written in the YYYY-MM-DD style, which is only for morons getting little girls stuck in the facility and never "headquarters". I changed it to MM-DD-YYYY as soon as possible, because this is the right way that should not be tested because Aperture is American.

Unknown to me, under his "supervision", they would switch back.

But for the time that I was in control, everything would be done right.

Then this Wheatley, Marissa still hanging onto him because of his moronic obliviousness that only then didn't work when he was hatching an evil plan, got to the Extended Relaxation Center's part where the cyborg boy was held, and said in some voice that actually belonged to a British celebrity I knew from pre-1998 GLaDOS activation, Stephen Merchant:

"Someone else is alive! Perfect."

Another voice that sadly I never got to knowing also spoke. "Good morning. You have been in suspension for three hundred years or something. I honestly lost track of time myself."

"It's not. Bloody. Morning."

"Very well, Intelligence Dampening Sphere."

"Didn't we just agree that you should call me Wheatley? Let's say I don't want to be reminded that I am a moron."

"Very well, Wheatley. Now, back to your moronic- I mean, morning argument, it doesn't matter. This being an underground facility, times of day are purely simulated. I can simulate any time of day you are in the mood of. Daytime. Nighttime. Evening. Rapid epileptic changing of sunlight. Anything you desire."

"Could you please simulate silence?"

"Thank you for your comment. I can leave you alone."


Wheatley then rewinded his mental state to before this announcer popped up.

"Out of ten thousand flipping vegetables, well, mostly flipping vegetables since I still have to check them all, already two alive test subjects to help out with my mission! Wonderful."

The cyborg boy "knew" something was wrong, but, because he is the implication of my way of referring to Wheatley, he didn't know anything. He simply said: "What mission?"

Instead of giving an answer, Wheatley just said "I need to work on it becoming historical fact." and retracted to a robotic square hole in the ceiling, dropping Marissa in the same room.

"This Wheatley is hot, isn't he? Just his voice is making me fall in love." Marissa said, clinging onto the cyborg boy because for some reason she just needed to cling onto something. And her comparatively large breasts provided slight discomfort for both of them.

"No, I-"

"Admit it, whoever you are!"

"No really, could you…?"

"I love Wheatley! He's the best guy there is! And if he doesn't love me back, I'll have you be my Wheatley!"

Marissa said as the whole room fell apart because of the real Wheatley's horrible piloting skills, bouncing both her and the cyborg boy around.

"Well you do seem… kinda… lovable."

"My next Wheatley."

Just as then, the real Wheatley started speaking. "Okay, almost here. A docking station or something."

Of course, Marissa was oblivious to the real Wheatley's speech, as there was no one tangible saying it, and just held hard onto the cyborg boy. Like real hard. As if she could die if she wasn't holding on. As if she was…

In love with the cyborg boy even more than with Wheatley.

The real Wheatley then finally gave way to the test chamber number zero through a wall completely erased with his work, and left Marissa and the cyborg boy to just roll into the chamber. He wanted to be able to propagate his plan. And these two subjects were the two gleaming blue units of Aperture Science Sburb Revise Points on the black and green circuitboard floor. Just enough to build up to a gate and ascend to a higher rank among his fellow spherical employees.