It was just another typical day. Dancing threads of power striving to turn fluorescent-lit hallways into a discothèque, a steady tap-tap-taptap from a leaky pipe playing percussion with a strip of oxidized metal, an infestation of voracious plant-life clogging his thin trek of rail and a massive, wobbling dimensional tear slapped flat on a short passage of wall 'tween long abandoned offices.
Basically status quo here around Aperture.
Nowadays few portals were profitable for Wheatley's time, of which he had much and yet refused to reduce his mental market value for, but today he felt he had time to spare. The management rail was a dead-end of twisty and furling vines anyway, leaving the alternate option in his plans as 'turn around and go back over there'. Dull, frankly. So he set his squeaky old brakes, spun about his gyroscopes and set his optic to gander through the electric neon gateway the breached across the universe. Less impressive in reality when it was a daily feature around these parts.
"Hello?" The introduction was classic; blasting his internal speakers to their maximum capacity and bellowing through to the other side in hopes that some passerby, maybe the owner of the room his portal seemed to have occupied, caught an ear of it. "Hello! Talking wall here, doesn't that sound fascinating! You should come take a look. Come on over here, meet your brand new talking wall, shoot the breeze, the usual social graces. Sooo, if you're hearing this, no idea if you are, whoever, just- just make a sound! Or throw something! That works too. Primitive but effective! Hello?"
