Chapter Text
It hurt. Ithurtithurtithurtithurt.
The back of his mind said to him, "Of course it does, dying is supposed to hurt." Did he have room to complain? This was what he had signed up for. And, yes, this was dying.
Time slowed to give him as much awareness of this horrible, horrible moment as possible. He couldn’t force any part of himself to move, something in him (instincts, programming) told him to stay very, very still.
He distantly noticed himself become visible again. He watched as Steve Cobs' crazed grin dropped, instead turning to flat disinterest.
Was this what a prey animal felt like in a predator’s grasp? Paralyzed in the moment the claw punctured you, knowing it was your last?
He was bombarded by popup messages, each trying to tell him that something was very, very wrong. He didn't need them for that. The pain was clear enough.
He fell to his knees. The dull ache was nothing compared to the burning, throbbing, jolting, hollow, awfulawfulawful.
He fell on his back, the knife pushed out a little by the motion, scraping again against his insides.
It. Hurt.
Instead of running, using the time he'd just bought for him, MePhone collapsed by his side. Part of him was glad, but not the part that wanted him to go and be safe.
"I told you not to die for me." MePad couldn’t see him, but he knew he was crying.
He could only see the sky. Why was it so pretty? It shouldn’t be, everything was ending. MePad wanted to cry, too.
The errors were piling up. He couldn't feel his legs. He suddenly had so much he wanted to say. He might've saved MePhone anyway, even if things weren't like this. They were at odds, he disapproved of not telling everyone their true nature. But, he’d known him all his life.
That aside, the death of MePhone was the death of everyone MePad had ever known, too. That made saving him less complicated.
"I didn't."
Keeping his eyes open was too much work.
He couldn't feel his- anything. Not his screen, not his shell, just his internal processes.
If he had the ability to move, he would've sighed with relief.
A death like this was fitting, wasn't it? He'd spent almost every waking moment on the show and, more importantly, its contestants. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of feeling love, but was love just an emotion? If love was a thing you did, he had done it.
He couldn't feel his task manager.
It was almost time, then. The last thoughts that he would ever think, "If my death helps them survive, I would not have a single regret."
And then he woke up.
It had been forever and an instant. He came to, like someone unaware they’d fallen asleep. Except, he was standing.
But, not for long, because just a foreverinstant ago he’d been laying down, and so he was unprepared to hold himself up. He simply tipped over and banged his corner on the floor.
It hurt less than being stabbed, but he trembled still with the remembered pain. It echoed, like the heat might as you pulled your hand from the fire.
He was in a hallway. He was feeling sensations, like the carpet under his legs, and the sturdy press of a wall against his back. The walls were orange. The carpet was familiar.
Was the afterlife Hotel OJ? That didn’t seem right.
He sat still for a long, long while.
He was dead. He knew this. Steve had murderous intent, and had stabbed him, and he had died.
But, whatever post-life existence he'd found, it felt… Just like being alive.
He could hurt, though the pain of being stabbed was thankfully fading. He could smell cleaning solution, and with a glance to his right, he noticed a wet floor sign shading a small wet spot on the carpet. Freshly cleaned.
That was enough sitting and contemplating for the moment, MePad decided. He would have plenty of time to do that for… Eternity?
He stood up and started walking, absently noting more details of his surroundings as he went. There were doors, just like the ones in the Hotel. He stopped, when he saw what he now knew was Pickle’s room number. The door was ajar.
He peeked inside, and it was just as it had been a few hours before. Taco sat on the bed, eyes staring at nothing. Pickle’s body was on the on the floor, discarded. This gave him pause, for a number of reasons. Of course, the main being that she was his friend. Taco was here.
Did that mean she was dead, too? Well- MeLife had been terminated, he knew she was dead. But, contestants had called MePhone, somehow. He had hoped that meant they were still able to be saved.
He didn’t want to be wrong about that. He wanted them to live.
“Taco?” He shouldered his way into the room, gently pushing the door open.
“Oh.” She looked up, and didn’t even attempt a smile, “You’re back early.”
“Ah, yes, I decided to stand in front of MePhone4. Did- Are you here usually, before he revives you, or have we failed?”
She stared at him, blankly.
Perhaps he hadn’t been clear enough, “Did MePhone die in the confrontation?”
She was looking at him, now, as though he’d grown arms. “What are you talking about?”
He came closer, carefully walking around Pickle (it was disturbing to see a corpse in the afterlife.) “I am talking about the situation that led to our deaths.”
“Our?” She squinted up at him, and he felt awkward. Was he asking the wrong questions?
“Yes. We both died.”
“No? Okay, like, maybe this is insensitive.” She shook her wrist, like she was trying to shoo away the concept. “Is this whole situation getting to you? Do you need to run a diagnostic? Do you run diagnostics?”
On the bright side, he was no longer as concerned as to her status, because he was too busy being baffled. “When MeLife got unplugged, I took a knife for MePhone to buy him time. I do not know how much clearer I can state it. I am speaking the correct language, right?”
“Yes, but you’re saying nonsense.”
“I believe we’re at an impasse.”
“So we are.” She broke eye contact to examine her hand, as though that was more interesting.
“Miss Taco, if I may, I was very proud of you for leaving his body when Miss Microphone went to fetch you. In this echo of the hotel, whatever it is, let us not dwell any further on this scene.”
Her eyes stayed locked on to her hand, for a few moments. Then they flicked over to “Pickle.”
Quickly, she looked back at her hand with a grimace.
Finally, Taco nodded and stood up. They exited the room swiftly, and he was again proud. He didn't think that interrupting her vigil was inappropriate. That body could not be the real Pickle. If he was also dead that should cause him to be just as conscious as them, and not an inanimate object on the floor.
They walked slowly through the halls, without a destination beyond “elsewhere.” He wouldn't tell her this, because she might get defensive, but he knew it was good to be moving around. When one is anxious, moving tells the brain that you are doing something. You're putting distance between yourself and the imagined predator.
He supposed that there was a real danger, but it was too late for them to escape it. Tricking their brains couldn't hurt.
MePad wasn't sure how long they walked together in silence. Their feet made no sound on the carpet.
Eventually they entered a stairwell and descended. They paced around the ground floor, passing the same doors over and over.
Someone screamed.
They shared a glance, and ran towards it.
The scene they arrived at was familiar, but not. Paper was covering his mouth and trembling as he stared at a giant glass, tipped over, and the wet spot it made on the floor.
Was this what life flashing before your eyes actually entailed? Did the dead have to relive it all before they could move on?
And-
"Toilet?!" He exclaimed, when it really happened it had been Toilet, and-
"MePad!"
A phone not much smaller than him with a giant, inexpressive X where a face was supposed to be appeared, and he couldn't stop himself from flinching. Oh, no. Oh, please, no.
"I failed you." He said, because begging would be no use.
"Failed ME?" The shell-of-a-phone Toilet was puppeting pulled itself towards him, and landing just close enough to be able to grab him with its arms, "Never, MePad! I'll admit to ya, it was pretty dreary, after Mister Phone gave me the boot. But Master ADAM gave me this great professional deev-elope-mint opper-chu-nity, so I'm doing swell now!"
Oh no, this was just like Taco. "If you are here, with me, that means you have DIED, Toilet! I didn't protect you!" He wished that he had the arms to grab the phone's shoulders back. He wanted to clutch Toilet, even if he couldn’t feel it, and shake him until he understood how sorry MePad was.
"Wh- Now that's just silly!"
"EXCUSE ME." Mic screamed. Everybody stopped what they were doing to look at her, even Toilet let go of one of MePad's sides to turn to her. "Could SOMEBODY tell me what's going on?"
"Training simulator-"
"While the afterlife-"
The face of MePhoneX did not change, and yet, he distinctly shared a glance with it.
“We have all-”
“Well, I’m learning to-”
They both cut themselves off, again.
“If we’re all dead, then, like, why is he still here?” Nickel gestured to a tall, metal spoon MePad had seen around last time. They reacted with a "Hey!"
This time, only MePad answered. “I believe we’re currently reliving our last day and processing it, the life flashing before our eyes people speak of.”
“Once we’re done with this lame party, I better end up in a different afterlife from the rest of you chumps.” Trophy said, and knocked back his drink.
“Oh, I’m sure yours will be separate.” A filing cabinet MePad had also never met said and gestured pointedly downwards. Trophy choked on his drink.
“Not that I don’t believe you,” Balloon started, smiling wide and strained. “But wouldn’t we all remember dying?”
He didn’t have an explanation for that part, “I don’t know. I remember my death very clearly.” MePhoneX squeezed MePad’s casing a little tighter.
“I also totally believe you.” Lightbulb was worse at sounding earnest, “How did, uh, you die, pal? Buddy? Buckaroo?”
That he knew the answer to, which was a relief. “Simple. After MeLife was unplugged, all of you were degenerated, aside from Bow and Dough. Steve Cobs survived his fall, and began to attack MePhone with a knife. I took a blow, to give him time to escape. I am most certainly dead, and if you are here with me, you all must be as well.”
“You know what?” Taco spoke up, for the first time since they’d left Pickle’s side. “Let’s go outside. Enjoy the party, everyone. Good luck with, uh, the blank beverage situation.”
“TACO IS HERE? HOW CAN THIS GET ANY WORSE?” Shouted Paper.
Taco teleported them outside. One moment, they stood together in the hotel. In the next, Taco, MePad, and MePhoneX stood alone in the forest.
“MePad.” She moved her hand to rest gently on his back, “Are you… feeling okay?”
He was tiring of no one accepting their fate. He supposed most mortal beings don't want to die. He was different from the contestants, and from Toilet, clearly. He had chosen to die.
Should he have left them to their denial?
What he said, because he wasn't sure how to articulate any of those previous thoughts diplomatically, was, “My body, though it is most likely an ethereal representation of how I was in life, is functi-”
“This is exactly what I'm talking about.” She pat his back, once, harder than necessary. “I know I'm stressed about what's happening around here, but you've lost it.”
“I don't know…” Toilet said, hand scratching the top of MePhoneX’s head. “He looks like he's telling the truth!”
Taco raised an eyebrow in his direction, “And what would you know about that?”
“I've been studying MePad and Mister Phone’s facey expressions for a long time, you know!” MePhoneX puffed up, claw-like hand tapping confidently against its screen. “MePad starts lookin’ all blank-like when he's lyin! Look at his face!”
… Did he?
“Sure, whatever, MePad is an ineffective liar. Just because he believes what he's saying doesn't make it true. ”
They thought he was delusional.
“Is that right? Have you lost touch with reality?” Toilet asked, with not a hint of accusation mixed in. His voice was earnest, and kind.
He looked away from both of them. “I died. Perhaps I'm wrong about other parts of this situation, but I am certain that I died.” He remembered the shock as the blade was thrust through his screen, more painful than he could even process. The way it was all-encompassing, the way it froze him. The way slipping away from his senses was peaceful-
“Come on, let’s go.” Taco said, pulling him out of his thoughts. She turned and started walking. He followed. So did Toilet.
No one said anything.
The grass was nice, under his feet. The Hotel’s carpet was alright, but it was coarse in a way he hadn't made time to get used to. He often found grass to be refreshingly cool. Sometimes it was pleasantly sunwarmed, which he didn’t mind either. It was almost never too hot, not when it was still green and alive. Not like sand, which was uncomfortable most of the time.
MePhoneX’s body language (or was it Toilet’s body language? It wasn’t Toilet’s body, though…) was tense. He was holding its arms tight to its body, hands clasped. He wondered what he was feeling. For some reason, he didn’t ask.
They stepped out of the woods and MePad saw the lake. Taco kept walking, and he followed her to the dock. She sat down, legs dangling above the water. They both sat to match her.
“Many people find bodies of water relaxing.” He said. He wasn’t sure why.
“Yes, well, it seems like we both need it.” She sighed. “It’s better than staring at his corpse, you were right about that.”
There was silence for a couple moments. Not completely, though. The wind still ruffled the treetops, and created splashing waves on the surface of the water.
“If, erm…” Toilet started, “If you’re the real MePad, and you gotta be cuz you’re acting just like ‘im, then why are you in my training simulator?”
“You were tricked. ADAM is controlled by Steve Cobs. It is not a simulator, you are piloting a real robot.” He said it plainly, it was just something he knew to be true.
“Ah.”
They three observed the scenery and not each other.
“Personally, I think you just had a bad dream.” Taco said, next.
“That would be the better outcome. Then, I would not have failed you both.”
She turned to face him, glaring. “You keep saying stuff like that. So what, if we did all die? How would that be the fault of MePad specifically? I mean, barring a murder spree.”
“No, rest assured I have never killed anyone on purpose.” It did sound unreasonable, when she said it so plainly. “But, I have a responsibility to both of you. To everyone-”
“Sure, sure, keep believing that.”
Toilet cut in, “Well, if it was a dream, and I’ve had plenny ‘o nightmares in my days, that just means we need to perk you up again, yeah?” He leaned against him, wrapping an arm partially around his back.
Taco mirrored the action, “I suppose that’s most reasonable.”
Something inside him felt warm.
They spent several hours together, gossiping. Toilet wanted to be caught up on what happened on the show since he’d been gone (not much.)
Taco told them about a book she’d stolen from Hotel OJ at some point, a children’s novel about cats. She said it was beneath her, but did still describe the entire plot, including pauses to explain things such as why the daytime warriors were unpopular with the fulltime clan members, with the passion of someone who definitely cared.
MePad told them about a book he’d been reading in his off hours about deep sea life. It was fascinating, because the ocean was so far out of his area of expertise.
The light started hitting the lake differently, and they had to all stand up and move to the other side of the dock to keep the glare out of their eyes.
Toilet was midway through an explanation of how to use a stud finder, with a brief detour to why putting things directly into drywall was inadvisable, and a longer detour into asbestos and how annoying it was to come across. MePad could not have explained how they got to any of these topics.
Suddenly, mid-sentence, Toilet cut himself off to gasp. MePhoneX turned as though there was someone behind them. “MePad was right! You tricked me!”
Another voice came through the microphone, and MePad stiffened. “I was gone all that time, and you only deactivated one contestant? I had higher hopes for you.”
MePad scrambled to his feet, aware of Taco behind him. She tried to peek out, but he readjusted to cover her.
MePhoneX went still.
“My turn.”
It all happened so quickly. It wasn’t moving like a person anymore. The way it floated off the ground and moved in a perfectly straight line reminded him of the hand of a claw machine.
It disappeared, and his artificial breath quickened. He wasn’t sure which way to turn, how to keep her safe. They were cornered.
She screamed. Her shell thunked onto the wood. She didn’t make a single other noise. He couldn’t move.
“There’s one.” Steve said, flat, and cold. “And, you know, you’ve been entertaining, but I don’t think I’ll be renewing your contract. Nothing personal.”
He was shoved backwards, off the end of the dock. He thought he felt her body scrape his leg, for a moment. The water splashed, and-
He felt it seep into his ports, into the cracks between buttons and casings, and he knew that he was supposed to turn himself off. Just like when he was stabbed, to prevent short circuiting, he needed to shut down.
And yet, he spent his final moments instead gazing again into the sky. The shadow of the dock against the water. The way the light refracted off of the lake’s chaotic surface, blocking his view of the clouds. Taco’s empty, lifeless body floating up there, on its side. One of the tomato slices had fallen out, and chased him down into the water.
He’d been foolish. He didn’t even buy time. Nobody was going to escape the Hotel without his help.
MePad watched bubbles stream up from his body to jostle her, each one an extra drop of water that was in his casing, until he stopped being able to see, and to feel, and to be.
And then he woke up.