Lab Mice

Stepbrothers

Day000_1.5

It was always colder than Death in the main AI chamber, he decided. Douglas Rattman scrolled swiftly down the lines of code displayed on his workstation. Probably for the third time he checked the commands for the latest personality core, and shook his head gravely. It was the fourth one they'd installed and it only had inhibited her homicidal tendencies by a miniscule amount. The only option they had was to install two, maybe one more core at the least.

He checked his wristwatch briefly. It was about 4:30 in the afternoon, and it was just about time for his special guests to arrive. Sasha had made him promise to have them visit the lab at least once, and despite how busy he was, Doug still worried.

Behind him, two doors slid open almost inaudibly to reveal three people.

"Is this 'er?" said a voice. The accent was obviously Bristol in origin, and came from one the first two to enter the room. It was a teenager with short brown hair and large spectacles. His bright blue eyes had roamed the room and settled on the delicate piece of equipment at its dead center. GLaDos, of course.

Behind him an unmistakably American accent, definitely Midwestern, answered him.

"Don't be stupid, of course it is."

The teenager that this comment originated from was a bit taller than the first, but had jet black hair and cold, blue-grey eyes. Like he could freeze you solid with one icy look.

"Wilson..." warned Rattman, staring at his son.

Immediately Wilson frowned and gave him the look most rebellious teenagers give authority. It was something along the lines of disdain and fake remorse.

"Sorry," he said, not meaning it in the least.

"Haha," laughed the man behind them, "it's okay, Rattman, boys will be boys." He laid his hands on the teenagers' shoulders and laughed again. Like Rattman, he wore a lab coat and had been the one to escort the boys to the room. Smiling broadly, Dr. Marshall Flynn walked them to a spot right beneath the dormant AI and gestured toward her. "So boys," he winked, “what d'you think of GLaDos?"

"She's okay." Wilson stuffed his hands into his pockets and sighed. He looked away, bored already. His attention span wasn’t very long, and he knew already that despite how many vending machines he had hacked into, his knowledge wouldn’t even scratch the surface of the complex algorithms and programs that were even capable of creating artificial consciousness.

"I think she's wonderful," contradicted the other boy. Ever since they walked in, his eyes had never left her. Wheatly Arlington was dumber than a sack of bricks most of the time, but he knew something impressive when he saw it.

To that Dr. Flynn guffawed once more and pat him on the back approvingly. "Wonderful, eh?" The doctor's elbow nudged him playfully in the rib. "Sounds like someone has a crush. "

Overacting by far, Wilson rolled his eyes then made a face like he was eating garbage. "In love with a computer," he said. "Typical Wheatly."

Wheatly's face, of course, was suddenly the color of Pepto-Bismol. "I-I uh," he stammered. "D-don't....Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

"No other girl would be able to stand your idiocy," explained Wilson as he pointed to GLaDos."I doubt even she would like you."

Being called an idiot was a hot-button for anyone, but especially Wheatly.

"Hey!" he looked his stepbrother up and down and glared. If he concentrated hard enough he probably could have come up with a better comeback. "As if you're the one who holds the numbers?" In this case it was good enough for Wheatly, though, because he truly never did see his brother go out with many, if any, girls.