WHEATLEY (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
testgasm) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2012-05-28 01:28 am
testgasm) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-05-28 01:28 am
Entry tags:
wait, what if this hurts? what if it really hurts?
CHARACTERS: Wheatley, Cave Johnson, Dirk Strider, special guest star John Watson (BBC) possibly maybe?
LOCATION: Meanwhile, in the Science Department...
WARNINGS: We can't stop here. This is medical horror country. Seriously, blood and a giant needle right off the bat. TREAD WITH CAUTION.
SUMMARY:TEAM SCIENCE thinks it is a very good idea to try and shove a person into a robot.
NOTES: SPOILER ALERT it is not a good idea.
The lack of concrete day and night in space didn't really bother someone who'd spent nearly all of his existence in an underground lab (where the passage of time was anyone's guess), but he waited until the ship settled for what was presumably the evening anyway. A circadian rhythm was still a bit foreign--he slept when this body got tired, whether on schedule with the other passengers or not. His irregularities were, perhaps, advantageous in that sense. This wasn't something he wanted to do with humans about--they made him nervous, kicked his anxieties into overdrive, and seeing as he was already anxious about most things, the relative quiet of their pseudo-night seemed ideal.
Wheatley knew it was a bad idea. The tiny, ever-present voice in the back of his mind that fed him a constant, needling maybe you aren't as smart as you think you are was back at it, and this time it was hard to ignore.
But there was something on the ship, and the last thing he wanted to be was squishy and inefficient and mortal and he was becoming impatient. Half a year was more than enough, and he'd been slowly realizing that if he didn't take some initiative, nothing would happen. Wheatley had thought about holding off, waiting another jump, waiting for HAL to get back (if HAL was coming back), but his restlessness was getting the better of him. That fear toxin, he thought, was the tipping point. He was sick of this body, sick of the ship, sick of waiting, and his so-called friend wasn't even the person (the AI) Wheatley thought he was, anymore.
He didn't care if Cave was there or not. He'd do it himself.
Which was, of course, the plan, and he found himself inspecting their equipment (assembled almost entirely from spare parts), flicking switches on the devices and monitors, as if delaying what he knew was the inevitable. They'd done the best they could given the resources, and even though Wheatley didn't know what Cave had built, exactly, he knew where the wires were supposed to go, what they was supposed to do. How hard could it be?
Hooking up the robotic shell Dirk had constructed was easy enough--it was the other end of the cords that made him nervous, a strange, cobbled-together marriage of a plug and a thick, sinister-looking needle swiped from Medbay. The most injury he'd ever experienced was the odd punch, but he didn't need a thorough understanding of the human pain spectrum to know this was going to hurt. This was not going to be simple, or pleasant, so it would be best to do it as quickly as possible, before he had a chance to change his mind.
Unzipping his jumpsuit and clumsily tying the arms around his waist successfully killed a few moments, but soon enough he was staring down the needle again. Wheatley inhaled deeply, squeezed his eyes shut, and positioned the device at the base of his skull, angling it upward and feeling the sharp tip against his hairline. Then, repeating over and over to himself that he needed out of this body, he couldn't stay in it any longer, he needed out--he pushed.
And if there was anyone working late in the science department (perhaps an executive), they would certainly find the resulting shout difficult to ignore.
LOCATION: Meanwhile, in the Science Department...
WARNINGS: We can't stop here. This is medical horror country. Seriously, blood and a giant needle right off the bat. TREAD WITH CAUTION.
SUMMARY:TEAM SCIENCE thinks it is a very good idea to try and shove a person into a robot.
NOTES: SPOILER ALERT it is not a good idea.
The lack of concrete day and night in space didn't really bother someone who'd spent nearly all of his existence in an underground lab (where the passage of time was anyone's guess), but he waited until the ship settled for what was presumably the evening anyway. A circadian rhythm was still a bit foreign--he slept when this body got tired, whether on schedule with the other passengers or not. His irregularities were, perhaps, advantageous in that sense. This wasn't something he wanted to do with humans about--they made him nervous, kicked his anxieties into overdrive, and seeing as he was already anxious about most things, the relative quiet of their pseudo-night seemed ideal.
Wheatley knew it was a bad idea. The tiny, ever-present voice in the back of his mind that fed him a constant, needling maybe you aren't as smart as you think you are was back at it, and this time it was hard to ignore.
But there was something on the ship, and the last thing he wanted to be was squishy and inefficient and mortal and he was becoming impatient. Half a year was more than enough, and he'd been slowly realizing that if he didn't take some initiative, nothing would happen. Wheatley had thought about holding off, waiting another jump, waiting for HAL to get back (if HAL was coming back), but his restlessness was getting the better of him. That fear toxin, he thought, was the tipping point. He was sick of this body, sick of the ship, sick of waiting, and his so-called friend wasn't even the person (the AI) Wheatley thought he was, anymore.
He didn't care if Cave was there or not. He'd do it himself.
Which was, of course, the plan, and he found himself inspecting their equipment (assembled almost entirely from spare parts), flicking switches on the devices and monitors, as if delaying what he knew was the inevitable. They'd done the best they could given the resources, and even though Wheatley didn't know what Cave had built, exactly, he knew where the wires were supposed to go, what they was supposed to do. How hard could it be?
Hooking up the robotic shell Dirk had constructed was easy enough--it was the other end of the cords that made him nervous, a strange, cobbled-together marriage of a plug and a thick, sinister-looking needle swiped from Medbay. The most injury he'd ever experienced was the odd punch, but he didn't need a thorough understanding of the human pain spectrum to know this was going to hurt. This was not going to be simple, or pleasant, so it would be best to do it as quickly as possible, before he had a chance to change his mind.
Unzipping his jumpsuit and clumsily tying the arms around his waist successfully killed a few moments, but soon enough he was staring down the needle again. Wheatley inhaled deeply, squeezed his eyes shut, and positioned the device at the base of his skull, angling it upward and feeling the sharp tip against his hairline. Then, repeating over and over to himself that he needed out of this body, he couldn't stay in it any longer, he needed out--he pushed.
And if there was anyone working late in the science department (perhaps an executive), they would certainly find the resulting shout difficult to ignore.
/sobs Sorry for the super-late, was so tired and not around for a while D:
He moved toward the multitude of screens and noted the cartoonish flashing red boxes, X's, and "Do Not Proceed" symbols before glancing back at Wheatley and almost feeling sorry. Almost. Because he's Dirk Strider and knew that Wheatley wanted this so badly, regardless of Cave's outdated credentials. Nothing short of failure would stop them from pushing the experiment forward, and who was to say they wouldn't just try again in the future? Even if this did stop them, it might not be long before they simply try again.
The only thing that Dirk felt sorry for was being complicit enough in this nonsense to have his name attached in some way, shape, or form.
Fuck.
Anyway, the screens continued flashing with all sorts of blatant pop-up warnings indicating that they should abort, that imminent failure was at hand, that something Horribly Wrong™ was about to happen. Then Wheatley confirmed that he wanted to go through with this, but Cave probably would've assumed the fucking position and jammed that shit deep into the kid even if he hadn't answered at all.
... Man, that had to hurt.