Wheatley said nothing, mute as ever, and that just wasn't right. Whealtey was never quiet, never. If anything, he had too much to say. He did, however, push the button to close the iris over the incinerator.

It wasn't his family. Not really. They didn't like him, never respected him, and maybe he was a moron after all trusting a human. Trusting Chelldon. Androids don't love.

But this was close enough. A machine could only do what it was programmed for-- Or what Specimen 739 made them do.

"At least not everyone's dead," he said, finally vocalizing as he scooped up Tyler from under the desk. "I don't think Doctor Handy will give us 'very excellent' on this one."

Or maybe he would.

Humans, he decided, were monsters.