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Pleasing Mr. Cobs was impossible.
That is what MePhone4 decided today.
He did everything he was told. Even though sometimes, he had to work so much that his entire body would feel weak and floppy. Like at any moment, his limbs would give up on him and thump on the ground. It was so exhausting. It always was; but it was just how it was. There wasn't any leaving anytime soon, so what was the point?
Days here seemed to always loop, whenever he couldn't watch TV. It was always same old, same old. Do the tasks. Or don't. No matter how silly or pointless they were. Most times if he didn't do them, Mr. Cobs would have something to say about it. Not very nice things. Sometimes if MePhone did a particularly bad job, Mr. Cobs would call him names. Tell him that he’s useless, or a failure, or that he’s not worth all of the trouble Cobs went through making him.
That was alright though, MePhone decided as well. It’s not like he enjoyed when that would happen, but ever since he's seen what Cobs can do when he's the angriest, the shouting and the name calling seemed more like a mercy than anything. Sometimes, and maybe this was bad, but sometimes Mephone liked when he would get really angry, because sometimes he gets lucky after– and he gets more TV time and snacks as an apology.
MePhone would do anything to be able to watch TV all day, every single day. The TV made him happy, unlike those silly tasks. MePhone did not see the point in generating one stupid thing over and over, just for Cobs to toss it to the side and ask him to make another one. He also did not see the point in Cobs making him do it until he felt sick, and the world became hazy and blue, and everything sounded garbled. Things would always just get worse from there. Cobs would shout at him to get up, and get angry at him for not being able to do what he expected.
MePhone really hated when Cobs would tell him he was failing. That he wasn't living up to expectations. That he was being dumb, and whatnot. He wasn't sure what it was called, or if it even did have a name, but it made something really murky swell up in his stomach, and his chest would ache. Sometimes he’d feel it in his metal fingers, how much colder they would get, and how his throat would feel so tight that he couldn't speak, even if nothing was constricting it.
He got worried one day and told Mr. Cobs about the strange sensations, but all the old man could do was laugh and swat his hand and say that it was just another one of those products from his highly advanced emotion emulator. All without even turning around to face him.
MePhone had grown more accustomed to his back than his face. Mostly, because he was always busy, and working on his own ‘tasks,’ except nobody else gave him his tasks but him and MePhone was never allowed to know what he was working on.
He always went into that creepy room, with the passcode and the heavy metal door. Like nearly every door, the Meeple logo was on it.
MePhone also didn't understand why it was an apple. Apple's didn't really hold any significance to technology. Right? Or was he wrong again?
He was probably wrong. Like always. Like Mr. Cobs always says.
….
MePhone didn't seem to understand a lot of things, the more he thought about it. He didn't understand all of the secrets Cobs was keeping. He didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to eat, even though Cobs built him with the ability to feel hungry. He didn't understand why he would get so angry when he would cry, because if Cobs made him, then Cobs made him be able to cry. He didn't understand what Cobs was teaching him, or why.
He doesn't understand a lot of the strange things Cobs says, or why MePhone isn't allowed to talk to any of the employees, or what the ending goal for any of this was.
Meh. That was a lot of different thoughts, and that kind of hurt his head. MePhone figured he wanted to this about something else right about now; TV. Yes. The best thing in the whole entire world. In his opinion, there wasn't anything better than being allowed to sit in front of it for hours, and get enthralled in whatever was on. Usually, his most favourite thing to watch was Reality TV. To him, that was particularly captivating. Unlike cartoons, which were animations, and movies and regular programs, reality TV wasn't scripted– it was real!
It was so interesting to see what other humans were doing, all the way down under him, below the Cloud. MePhone loved to see what they had to do, he loved to see their laughs, their smiles, even their anger and sadness. Not really because he wanted them to feel that way, no– that’s usually what bad guys want. MePhone was just really interested. Usually when people would cry, or get really angry, there was some really interesting stuff going on. Scandals, and big fights, and betrayals– really dramatic twists! It was so different to boring, quiet old Meeple HQ. It gave him something to think about, other than tasks and tasks and tasks, and getting into trouble.
His most favourite show is a competition show called Survivor. They do fun, interesting challenges on an island to win prize money. The guy who hosts the show is called Jeff, and he’s in charge and tells them all what to do. MePhone thinks that he’s a real funny guy, and– ideally, whenever he's allowed to leave the HQ, it would be so awesome to make his own show, and have his own contestants.
He’d make sure to be funny, and clever too. He’d love his contestants, and he'd make so many seasons, and then he could live his dream in real life. One thing MePhone doesn't really get, though, is why all of the people have original names– and why MePhone is apparently named after a phone series Mr. Cobs sells. He says that MePhone is the original, but he doesn't say that to everybody else. MePhone watches the things and the commercials Mr. Cobs does on TV too. Did he not know MePhone was aware? That's a little bit stupid of him.
… Honestly, MePhone thought Mr. Cobs could be really dumb, at times, but he would never, ever say that to his face. Especially since the one time he called him silly, Cobs got really angry and hit him on the face. It happened so fast that MePhone couldn't tell if it was a punch, or a really hard slap, but it hurt a lot and cracked his screen and so MePhone promised to never say those things to him ever again.
… Sometimes it upset him too, when MePhone would see commercials run in between episodes or in the middle of them. He loved the Springtastic cereal ad, and he really liked all of the Christmas ones, with their cheery songs and smiling kids getting toys from Santa Clause. Or Father Christmas, or Saint Nicholas, ‘cause apparently they called him a whole bunch of things. It’d be great if MePhone was good enough to get a visit from him one day. Mr. Cobs said he didn't come to him on Christmas because he wasn't doing all of his tasks properly or efficiently enough.
…. Sometimes, ads would play, of families. There would be a mom, a dad, and some kids, and a puppy or a cat. A lot of the time it was holiday ads, or breakfast ads, or car ads, but a lot of the time, there were families. Dads would go to work. The kids would go to school, to learn. MePhone wondered what school is like. The children seemed like they were having fun, but MePhone also knew they had to sit down for ages and learn math and words, and doing words with Mr. Cobs was bad enough already, so he probably wouldn't like it.
… It would be nice, though. For Cobs to be his real dad, so he wouldn't get so unbelievably angry when MePhone would call him that. So that he could clap his hands and give him a big hug when Cobs would come home from work, and so they could play catch in a garden together, and Cobs could teach him how to ride a bike instead of teaching him how to generate weapons. He would be able to fall, and scratch his knee, and real human red blood would seep out of it, and he wouldn't get yelled at for crying – and Cobs could put a colourful bandaid on it. MePhone could fall asleep on his lap, watching Survivor late at night in the living room, and then he could get carried all the way to bed.
Cobs would be able to do fun human things with him, like teach him sports, or they'd go on hikes or go to the movies like on TV. Sometimes, MePhone would stare down at himself, and feel these– awful feelings of sadness and stuff wash over him like a large ocean, whenever he'd see his metal arms, metal legs, or his screen for a face. How he didn't get to wear comfy clothes, how he knew he wouldn't be able to experience taking socks off after a day of hard work.
…. Thinking about that stuff wasn't giving him any nice feelings. He should think about TV, and his shows again. Oh, right. He was already starting to brainstorm his own show.
He was still workshopping the title…
But it’d be something along the lines of…
…….
…
Inanimate Insanity was perfect. Really, it was so fantastic. Mephone loved to host challenges and do announcements, even if it was kinda nerve wracking sometimes. Starting it off was probably the hardest part– all he could really remember was Inanimate Insanity since well… Ever. He could remember cracking his eyes open, and taking in thousands of glistening stones on cobalt blue cave walls, and sitting up to see someone that looked kinda like him except– taller, and they had no arms, and they had a loading screen. Mephone knew they'd definitely wake up eventually though, so that was no problem. Even if they were still sleeping, they were great company when the contestants were sleeping. Mephone would check up on them, and there was even a tool box there in case anything ever went wrong.
He enjoyed showing them his ideas he would draw, and plans for challenges. Talking to them helped him think, even if they never spoke back. It’d be really interesting to hear what they think about it all whenever they wake up, though! Mephone’s excited for that day, anyway. He’s already started to plan out how they could be his co-host, and help him with the more technical stuff.
Inanimate Insanity was great, but counting votes was really boring, and it took up way too much time! He could be, like, spending that time cooking up some new juicy challenge ideas and stuff.
… It was cool that there were votes though. People watched II! Loved it enough to even vote! It was exhilarating, really, he wasn't sure what else he could be spending his days doing aside from this.
It was coming close to the time where he was gonna film episode five. Wow, episode five! Already a milestone. The fifth episode out of a billion-gazillion to come. He figured the challenge would be something silly this time, and eventually he landed on the idea of stacking up golf balls. Mephone had tried it himself when he was really bored one night, since, he could just generate them and stuff, and it was pretty challenging. So he decided they’d be stacking three golf balls next. It’d be really funny, and he’s excited to see what they're gonna do, and how they’d do it. They’re definitely a wacky bunch, the best!
The last challenge was wild in itself. For some reason, Knife keeps murdering Marshmallow and so Mephone always has to bring her back.
The slingshotting thing was really cool, though! Creative! Unique! It was always so much fun watching them compete, and make friends and enemies. It was… Intriguing, to see how they worked. Who they picked to be friends, why and how. Who seemed like they wanted to win more than others. Mephone wondered himself who’s gonna win– and currently, his best guess was Knife. He’s tough, and strong, and funny, and even though he punched Mephone in the face the very first episode, that kind of jerk behavior seems to get people far, for some reason. The audience seems to really enjoy mean characters.
Mephone must admit, he understands. People watch TV for entertainment. If they're specifically watching a competitive show, it makes sense they're looking for drama. If they want that, that’s what Mephone will give them. It’s been a blast so far.
Maybe some day… Inanimate Insanity will be really big. Maybe people will call him boss and stuff! Well… That sounds a bit silly. Maybe something a little less on the nose? Maybe just a simple–
…….
…
“Sir? Are you alright?”
Mephone narrowed his eyes at Mepad, clicking his tongue. “I’m fine, Mepad, you know I’m just working. Hey, do you think the cactus sitting thing is ethical or whatnot? You know all that… Nonsense.” He muttered, the marker in his cold metallic hand on its last life as the colour faded more and more with each stroke of writing on the stained whiteboard.
“... Very much so. Aside from that– I do feel like you have been prioritising your game over your wellbeing, and as your personal assistant I do feel an obligation to–,”
“My game? Inanimate Insanity’s not just some silly game Mepad, jeez! It’s my TV show. My professional TV show. You know, you're a major reason why we’ve gotten so big! You have an important role, don't squash it down to just… A silly game.” Mephone grunted, the squeaking of the marker filling the silence between them. Before Mepad had the opportunity to follow up further on what he had already said, Mephone spoke again.
“-- Also I am prioritising my ‘wellbeing’? Whaddya mean? I’m– working on the next challenge. I mean, it’s a little tough, but it makes me happy. Isn't that like… The point?” He questioned, albeit rhetorically before continuing his erratic scribbling.
Mepad’s shoulders drooped, the cyan line on his screen zipping flat. The closest Mepad could get to a frown, before he chose to take a seat on the grass next to Mephone.
“Did you… Ask Toilet to get you ‘wires’ again? Sir…”
Mephone scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“So what? He’s fine, Mepad. I don't get why you worry about him so much when there's other things to be worrying about. Wasn't it you, who was talking all about priorities a second ago? C’mon.” He chuckled, the sunset falling down on the two of them causing the glare on his whiteboard nothing but a mild irritant.
Mepad sighed, a defeated sigh.
“I just wish you would… Aim to understand him better, sir. He works very hard to impress you. His intentions mean very well, and I strongly recommend–”,
“Hey, would a water-based challenge work well around this time, or should we wait for warmer weather? Or– maybe it’ll add to the challenge that it's cold…”
Mepad narrowed his eyes, and his posture slumped.
Mephone finally gazed up from his whiteboard, Mepad’s dejected expression staring back at him.
“.... Uhh… You okay?”
Mepad slowly rose to his feet, and Mephone swore that that was the closest to rolling his eyes Mepad would ever get.
“See you tomorrow.” Mepad uttered, before vanishing with barely a noise, and a purple glow lingering just barely behind.
… Mephone didn't get what he was so strange about just there. He almost seemed mad which struck Mephone as downright crazy since he didn't even know Mepad was capable of something as irrational as anger.
…. He was probably fine. Just a chip on that guys shoulder. Everything would be fine tomorrow, and they’d figure out what the next challenge would be– even if… Jesus, it’s been hard so far. Seriously, where was his creative drive? Back during season one he could spur up a million ideas all at once, ideas that even made sense. Nowadays … God, it was like everything just slipped his mind! What was even more annoying were the constant headaches, for no reason. He’d very subtly asked Test tube about it once, when they weren't recording, and she got wayyy too inquisitive about it– so he figured it'd be better to just wait it out. His memory was all sucky at the moment as well, but it was probably just the stress of not being able to come up with a good challenge.
It’d be great if Mepad didn't just– run off. His input could be useful, at the minute, if he even cared. Gosh, it was almost like he was the only one who really even cared about Inanimate Insanity anymore!
Eh, whatever. He’d see Mepad tomorrow. Then they could go over some ideas. He was craving a snack break right now, anyway.
………..
…
He wanted to see MEPAd TomorRow
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….
“M– Mepad?”
His back ached. Sore from resting on the bare floor.
“... No.”
A voice replied. A digital voice. A different voice. Not Mepad’s voice.
Right.
Mephone sat up, despite every scrap of him screaming not to move. It was like someone was trying to wring out his wires on the inside. His vision, still in blotches. A dull throbbing still ever present behind his screen, every blink, adding to the pit of agony hidden behind a digital face and a dull blue background.
Against his body's wishes, Mephone stood up, even if it took him a while– considering how he had to fight against every other part of him that had a lick of common sense. The common sense told him, even though being stuck laying down on a rotting carpet of a fifties movie theater, it was better than moving around and having to feel how your insides are already beginning to rust.
“3GS… I’m.. uh…”
Mephone began, before coughing into his hand.
“Gonna… Go get some… Fresh air.” He spoke, tuning out whatever 3GS’s response was as he started to pathetically limp his way to the front door, pushing it open with all of the strength he had left. What greeted Mephone was the cold air and the moonlight from the sky. Considering they were on the coast, far from the larger cities, you could spot stars too.
Eventually, even in his pain, he managed to find a patch of grass, and took his seat. Laying down then, and staring up at the night sky.
He would think maybe, that it's pretty, if he didn't feel so overwhelmingly numb. Everything around him since that day blurred into one unfathomable sea of events, a grayscale that didn't make any sense. Like a rainbow that melted in the sky and turned everything into a mess of colours and shapes that had no real meaning.
….
He would take a deep breath in, if inhaling that much didn't ignite a sharp pain in his chest. Really, moving at all was a mistake. He knew he wasn't going to be able to get himself back inside unless 3GS managed to get him back in, so if it just so happened to rain right now then– well, it was game over.
… It’d be his lucky night.
…….
…
It was too quiet. It was always too quiet.
He’d lost track of how long it's been since he and 3GS left the island, but every second that passes feels like slipping deeper into an unescapable pit of pure insanity.
Everything was hurting. He wasn't sure what to think about. Or what to spend his time doing. He wasn't sure what to really do with 3GS either, or what to talk to him about. Every conversation always ends in one of the three miserable ways, and Mephone doesn't feel like he can take any of it for much longer.
He was sure… That if Mepad were still here, at the very least, he’d be able to function. He wouldn't have to steal things from corner stores, and he wouldn't have to raid the appliances store a mile away just for the equipment to keep 3GS alive.
Moving made him sick. Talking made him sick. Thinking made him sick.
Things would be so much different if you weren't such a piece of shit.
No. All he wanted was company. All he wanted was friends. A show. Happiness. Companionship.
Humanity.
Yet– no matter how much effort he poured into it, even though he put his blood sweat and tears into Inanimate Insanity, it still wasn't enough. They all hated him. Mepad hated him, and now he didn't even have the chance to change that. The only thing that kept Cobs from turning him into scrap initially was plucked from his body like it was a splinter, and he knew it was making him sick. What did that matter, though– he did this to himself.
It should've been me.
Fuck, his head was pounding. Like– like somebody was playing around with a drill inside of his artificial skull.
… He could lay here forever, and think of what he could've done differently. It still probably wouldn't have even changed anything.
Guilt, shame, sorrow squeezed his heart tight, milking his heart of its oil until there was nothing left.
It was horrible back then too, but he would give anything to start again. To remember everything from now, and go back to day one. So he could do everything differently. Then maybe– maybe the contestants would be okay with being friends with him. Hell, maybe even if he were just a better son creation person, then maybe even Cobs would've respected him. Maybe there would've been more nights of being looked after by Cobs even though he was the one who caused the damage, more straws for him to grasp at.
All he wanted to know– was if Cobs ever cared. Even if it was just once.
Now he'll never even know.
….
Now all that's left is him, and 3GS.
He shouldn't be here. Because soon, he's going to ruin 3GS just like everything else he's ever been in close proximity with. 3GS will probably wind up prematurely dead because of him. Just line everything else.
Sucking in a painful breath, Mephone held it in his artificial lungs. It was a sharp and intense pain that spiked the longer he held in the oxygen, but he deserved it. He was wasting this oxygen anyway.
He glanced up again, up at the stars. They were real. At least he hoped they really were.
He let the oxygen go, and watched the vapour from the cold air vanish.
This was all impossible.
That’s what he decided tonight.
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