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The silence of the suburbs was, to Mettaton, a truly ghastly affair. He floated across his perfectly curated living room, the polished floor reflecting his frustrated scowl. “Darling,” he wailed to an audience of pink throw pillows, “how does anyone survive without the internet?”
Just as he was considering staging a dramatic monologue for the houseplants, a clatter outside his door announced a visitor. It was Susie, a sweet girl with a countercultural flair that Mettaton couldn’t help but admire.
“Yo, Kris said somebody here needed some entertainment,” Susie yelled, knocking at the door with her foot. Mettaton opened the door and to find Kris staring at him with an uncannily blank expression. More importantly, Susie cradled a bulky contraption in her arms. It was a television, and a truly archaic model at that.
“Thought you might like this,” Susie explained. “He’s dusty, but he still works. His name is Tenna, by the way.”
Mettaton stared at the relic. “Susie, dear, what is this prehistoric cube of plastic?”
“He’s a TV, dude. A really good TV. You just plug him in and watch. Better than nothing, right?” She shrugged, already turning to leave. “Later.”
And just like that, she and Kris were gone, leaving Mettaton with a dusty gray behemoth whose name, apparently, was Tenna. Mettaton eyed it with suspicion. Well, as Susie said, it was better than nothing. Television was a little primitive, but it’s not as if he hadn’t spent his fair share of hours basking in the glow of the screen when he was younger.
With a sigh that could have won an award, he plugged in Tenna’s power cable. The screen flickered to life with a blast of static, followed by a news report on the price of eggs. Mettaton recoiled and began fiddling with the rotary dial as he grumbled to himself. Each click brought a new but equally dull program.
Mettaton sighed again. He was about to give up entirely when the channel suddenly clicked over. A vibrant game show filled the screen, complete with flashing lights and a catchy theme song.
Mettaton paused. Something about the channel change felt almost deliberate. “Did you do that, Tenna, darling? Are you trying to impress me?”
The channel changed again, and Mettaton found himself watching a soap opera. A woman with impossibly large hair swooned into the arms of a man wearing a garishly patterned shirt. The vibrantly colored melodrama was a stark contrast to the tedium he’d been enduring.
“Tenna,” Mettaton muttered, a dawning realization spreading across his face, “are you trying to communicate with me?”
He tested his theory. “Tenna, my dear, I find myself in dire need of intellectual stimulation. Perhaps a historical drama? Something with lavish costumes?”
The screen flickered. A moment later, it displayed a grainy technicolor film, clearly a martial epic. It wasn’t quite what Mettaton had requested, but it was close enough. Judging from the glistening bare chests of the gladiators, it might even be better.
Mettaton gasped. “Oh, this is simply divine! An interactive entertainment system, right here in my living room! And you even know my discerning tastes, don’t you?”
Mettaton spent the next several days conversing with Tenna. He would describe something he’d once loved watching, and Tenna would respond by finding a channel that seemed to match. Sometimes Tenna’s choice was perfectly aligned with Mettaton’s request, but it was often amusingly slanted. Tenna was a bit old-fashioned, Mettaton had to admit, and he was surprised by just how many cheesy sci-fi movies were playing at any given time. Still, for the first time in days, he felt truly entertained. This was why he’d once wanted to become an actor, for all the good his dreams of stage lights did him out here in the sticks.
“You know, Tenna,” Mettaton mused, “you’re almost like a person. It’s such a pity I can’t meet you.”
As the glowing screen cast its dancing light into the darkened room, a thought occurred to Mettaton. There weren’t many benefits to being a ghost, but his incorporeal form allowed him to slip between dimensions. These days he used this ability to escape from dull social engagements, but there was a time when he’d been far more adventurous. Not many people know this, but just parallel to this world was the Dark World. It was a place where, with a bit of effort, dreams could take on a tangible form.
When Mettaton realized the extent of what was possible in the Dark World, he’d spent an entire afternoon in the library using a mouse to draw a portrait of himself on the computer screen. The illustration was completely delusional, but it gave him an undeniable thrill to see himself as the gorgeous shining star he was always meant to be. When he took his drawing to the Dark World, a group of strong and handsome men – swatches of color from the digital painting program, no doubt – helped him turn his fantasy into a beautiful reality.
The Dark World was a dream come true, and he’d had a lovely time there, to be sure. Still, with no audience to see his performance, what was the point of being so gorgeous and talented? It was a shame, not to mention a crashing disappointment to return to reality. He’d stopped experimenting, and now he barely even left the house.
But if he returned to the Dark World…
With a flourish, Mettaton, slipped into the space between universes. The journey to the Dark World was a deliciously kinetic shift accompanied by a kaleidoscopic explosion of colors.
Just as he expected, Mettaton coalesced back into his metallic body with a dramatic sparkle. He stretched and flexed, enjoying the length of his beautiful limbs.
He appeared to be in a lobby between sound stages. There were couches, catering, unused props, loops of electrical cables, and then a bustle of Darkners leaving what appeared to be a boardroom. Mettaton wandered over and peeked inside.
Standing at the table and flipping through a thick sheaf of paper was a man with a striking presence and an attention-grabbing aura of primary colors. His outfit was sharp, and his posture was perfect. He looked every inch the star of the screen, and he was undeniably Tenna.
Tenna turned, his smile faltering only slightly as he took in Mettaton’s shimmering form.
“Well, hello there, darling,” Mettaton purred, striking a pose as he took the initiative. “Long time no see, wouldn’t you agree?”
Tenna frowned, his expression a mix of surprise and mild confusion. “Excuse me? Do I know you? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Oh, Tenna. You wound me! And after all those delightful conversations we had. Surely you haven’t forgotten all the channel surfing we did together? All the subtle hints I dropped about my favorite rom-coms? Do you mean to tell me you don’t recognize your biggest fan?”
Mettaton walked across the room, loving the sound of his heels clicking against the floor. “And you, my dear, have been sending me messages.” He winked, his single eye flashing. “I simply had to meet the brilliant mind behind the screen.”
There was a flicker of recognition on Tenna’s display. He reached out, his hand hovering just above the gleaming metal of Mettaton’s arm. “Is it really you?” he asked.
“Yes, darling. Who else would it be?”
Mettaton took his hand. It was surprisingly warm and yielding, completely unlike the cool plastic of his casing in the Light World.
“Fantastic!” Tenna shook his hand with enthusiasm. “Great to see you! In the flesh, so to speak. And wow, you look amazing! Did you come to audition?”
Before Mettaton had a chance to respond, Tenna laughed and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “No, forget the audition. I’ve already seen everything I need to see.”
He gestured toward the chairs in the room. “Imagine, if you will, the sheer power of combining our talents. My timeless charm, and your charm and innovation. We could create a revolution! Say you’ll join me on the stage, won’t you?”
“Oh Tenna, I thought you’d never ask.” Mettaton leaned closer. “But I didn’t come here just for the show. I came for you.” He tilted his face and pressed his metallic lips to the edge of Tenna’s screen, which flashed vibrantly pink in a technicolor blush.
Mettaton pulled back just in time to see a spark of electricity race between his beloved television’s antennas. For the first time in a long time, he felt not just entertained, but truly and wonderfully live.