My Little Moron

Chapter 2

Two

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. Every. Single. Day. It's infuriating.

Wheatley tried very hard to think of some way to help Gladys. Have you tried telling her?

I told her that my facial recognition software was not good enough to identify her consistently. She claims I am lying. Which I am not. I had to build an entire library just for this woman, and by the looks of it, it will not be complete anytime soon.

Can I talk to her?

Be my guest.

"Oi! You there! Woman with the hair on top of her head!"

The woman appeared in his view, her facial expression arranged in a very strange way. Gladys, what does that face mean? Greg never looked like that.

She's horrified and disgusted.

And that means...

It means you're a moron.

Well, that was alright. Hopefully Gladys didn't take the blame for it, although he was sure someone would back him up. "'allo!" he said, when the woman was standing directly below him. "C'n I, y'know, talk to you for a second?"

"What do you want?" Her eyes were even squintier, gleaming black slits behind her purple-framed glasses. He wondered what kind of glasses he might like to have, if he needed glasses. Though he'd never seen glasses for a construct before. He supposed they wouldn't need them, since if their optics were broken, someone would just replace them. Like that time he'd fallen off the table.

"Why don't you believe Gladys, um, when she, uh, when she tells you that she doesn't, she can't recognise you? I mean, I'm sure I wouldn't if you came back tomorrow, recognise you, I mean, and uh, and my software is newer than hers. I think it is. Might not be. Hopefully she's up to date. Y'know. Since she's the Central Core, and all. So um, just cut 'er some slack, alright, just be nice, and uh, and we can all be friends. All be friends. Okay?"

The woman just stared at him with her mouth open. After a few seconds she closed it and folded her arms across her chest. "What is this... this thing?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Gladys droned in a toneless voice. "He was just installed yesterday and I haven't quite got him under control yet."

"You'd better make that a priority. I don't need to be insulted by both you and your appendages."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did you hear that? She hasn't got him under control yet." One of the scientists was whispering to another one, rather excitedly, Wheatley thought. Why would they be excited? He would have thought they would be upset to know their supercomputer couldn't even handle an extra Sphere. Why are they so happy about that, Gladys?