My Little Moron

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

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 doing your job anytime soon?" Greg looked up at him with an impatient look on his face, arms folded across his chest. He looked very, very small, and Wheatley reckoned that Greg must not be able to see him very well.

"Uh... what? My job? I have a job? Am I going to be paid? Because I don't, I don't have anything to, to spend any money on. I don't think. Have I got expenses?"

"You're supposed to be slowing her down."

"Slowing who down?"

"Her! You know? That thing you're hanging off?"

"Thing? She's not a thing, she's a she. And I dunno if I can make her any slower, she's bloody fast mate, y'know, and if I tried to slow her down it'd be like, um, be like me throwing myself into an aeroplane to make it fall out of the sky. It just wouldn't work, mate. Because I can't do that. I can't throw myself into aeroplanes. Or anything, for that matter. Not even, not even the ground. And I wouldn't even need to do any throwing, I'd just need to fall... and you'd need to not catch me... you'd catch me, wouldn't you, if I fell? You didn't last time, when I, when I fell off the table, remember, but you'd catch me this time, right mate?"

"Just talk to her." Greg unfolded his arms and buried his face in his hands. Wheatley didn't know what good that was.

"I do talk to her! All the time. All... all the time. We're friends. Best friends."

"Oh great," Greg said in a voice Wheatley was sure was not a happy one, and he stomped out of the room.

You shouldn't have told him that.

Told him what?

That we were... friends.

Why not? We are, aren't we?

Gladys didn't answer for a minute, and Wheatley hoped he hadn't pushed the friends thing too far. She didn't seem to like it when he referred to himself as her friend, but what else was she, really?

... you're not doing your job, that's why. You're supposed to distract me.

Why would I want to do that?

What you want doesn't matter. You do what you're told and that's the end of it. She seemed a bit angry, Wheatley decided. Maybe she wasn't allowed to do what she wanted?

Well I, I s'pose I could do whatever it is I'm s'posed to do... um... but I dunno what that is.

I can't tell you what your function is. Hm. Actually...