Fear not the Songbird

Such a delicate smile upon those lips; one he was certain he'd seen before. He wasn't one hundred percent sure, but Wheatley couldn't shake the feeling that such a smile was meant for him. It was as if he'd recognized the gentle expression; as if he had witnessed and admired it thousands of times before.

Impossible.

This lady had never been in this office before. Then...why did he feel such an absolute closeness, such a deep connection to this stranger? It was a familiar situation, seeing this woman for the first time, as a peculiar wave of deja-vu swept over him. It was uncomfortable to say the least, however, she wasn't the one staring at the other party, mouth agape. He felt a sharp tug at his arm before a dull pain met his derriere, accompanied by an audible "THUD!"

Ah yes...he wasn't the most subtle individual, but Rick certainly got his point across, and in a timely manner to boot!

"You tryin' to catch flies with your mouth or somethin'?" he asked, a noticeable Southern twang coating his words.

Wheatley stood up and promptly readjusted his shirt and tie.

"I-I'm not quite sure I understand what you're implying!" Wheatley exclaimed, stuttering slightly. "And was it really necessary to cause me bodily harm?" he inquired, rubbing his backside.

Rick merely shrugged, "Wasn't quite sure if normal words would get to ya. Plus, you should be thanking me! I saved you from embarrassing yourself in front of that cute lil' peach."

O, curse being so pale! The bright rouging upon Wheatley's cheeks had not gone unnoticed by his co-worker.

"Hah! So you have been eyeing her!"

Again, the strange feeling of recurrence struck Wheatley with such strength, he lost his balance momentarily.

"Whoa, hey, you feelin' alright?" Those were the only words he heard through the loud ringing in his ears.

"Wha--?"

"Man, you must be gettin' sick or somethin'...you look paler than usual. You gonna be alright?" 

Wheatley gave a weak nod before shakily retreating to his office.

Once there, he assumed his position in front of the quiet glow of his computer screen, just as he did every day.

For years.

Like normal.

Normal, normal, normal... The word floated around in his mind for a few moments, distracting him from the world around him, until his screen flickering to black pulled him out of the daze. He looked at the screen, focusing on the reflective properties of the glass pane which provided as a makeshift mirror. As he stared, he noticed that the dull and dusty reflection of his image was slightly warped, but he had seen himself enough times to be able to accurately describe his looks. The screen barely captured the entirety of his face; the only thing keeping it's shape was the prominent outline of his being. He knew his features well enough to place them where they belonged within the outline.

Freckles littered his cheeks, nose, forehead; his nose was longer and larger than it probably should be; stubble was beginning to grow on his chin, barely noticeable seeing as it matched his whitish-blonde hair. All of these features were dulled down by the screen's inability to reflect properly. For some reason, however, his eyes stood out and seemed to be perfectly mirrored. A strange, translucent blue, the irises captured more light than the 'normal' eye did.

And then it hit him.

Why the word that haunted him prior left such an impact.

He, himself, was the antithesis of 'normal.' What part of his person was natural?! None of it, that's what! he thought to himself as he briefly looked away from the screen, only to see the woman from earlier speaking to another nameless face within the laboratories. She was normal...a lovely figure, beautiful eyes and smile, everything about her was completely lovely and utterly opposite of everything he was. He turned back to his screen and shook the mouse to awaken the machine. The familiar logo to his workplace popped up as it prompted for his username and password. Per usual, Wheatley mindlessly typed in his information expecting to be logged in, but was met with the same prompt,  asking for him to re-enter everything.

Strange...he must have pressed a wrong key; he did have rather large hands after all. This time he watched as he meticulously typed each character. Everything was correct and things seemed to be running properly once again...until a new error box popped up. It was completely blank, save for the options of "OK" and "CANCEL". Wheatley brushed it off and cursed the labs for having such faulty technology. He clicked "CANCEL," yet the box reappeared each time. Fed up with the nonsense, he clicked "OK," simultaneously shouting his selection.

The screen went black.

Completely irate with this, he leaned down to unplug and restart the whole system when a small sound chimed from the speakers. It sounded like a song, one he was sure he knew (just like so many things today). Perplexity consumed him as he slowly rose to look at the monitor. Completely black with the exception of a white circle, broken into equivalent pieces.

Before he could react, the screen quickly flashed between a multitude of images, each being even more disjointed from the last: the segmented circle; another oddly broken circle; a square with a centered heart; a slice of cake with a candle; an oblong, cycloptic machine which quietly interrupted the continuum of music with a quick "Hello?" before switching to the final image; a seemingly abandoned building.

No...this wasn't an image...it was a video...

Flooded with sparking wires and fallen panels, the high tech area was quite eerie when in this decrepit of a state. Only a few lights flickered, making it impossible to read any of the labels of what this place was called. This thought quickly faded as a figure arose from the rubble. Wheatley couldn't quite put his finger on it but this was definitely, without any trace of doubt in his mind, someplace he had been before. In fact, the entire scene...it was as if he'd lived through it before. But there was something off about it; it wasn't quite right, no...there was an aspect missing. 

Just as he was beginning to lose himself in his thoughts, movement from the screen captured his attention yet again. The fuzzy figure in the background was now moving closer and closer to the glass between them. Wheatley stumbled backwards (as if the figure was going to come out of the screen and grab him if he hadn't) and into his chair, eyes unwavering from what was unfolding before them. Frozen in his place, knuckles turning white from gripping the chair's arms, Wheatley was helpless. The screen flickered, then went black...that is until a pair of golden eyes showed up. Eyes that seemed to harbor nothing but malice and hate. They disappeared as quickly as they had shown.

Just as Wheatley was about to breathe a sigh of relief, an ominous message ran across the screen. A simple message, just one line of text, plainly asking:

"Can you remember?"

That was that. The screen shut off. The system started to reboot. As it did, the whirring of the printer's gears turning, the whining of it getting ready to start, rang throughout the office. Suddenly, papers began flying from the printer. Wheatley jumped from his seat, dashing to pick up the papers being violently spewed into the air. All of them contained the strange circular logo and the cryptic question suggesting the need for Wheatley to remember...something. A vague question indeed, but concerning nonetheless. What had he forgotten?

Finally, the printer ran out of ammo and Wheatley could rest. He was in complete disarray as was his office. He quickly shuffled together all the papers in his arms and brought them to the recycling bin. He was just about to close the lid, writing off the whole thing as a sick prank or some sort of crazy virus, when he felt a shiver go up his spine.

The circle laid on top, staring up at him. He sighed heavily before picking up the sheet of paper, quickly folding and stuffing it in his pocket before making his way back to his office.