I ALREADY TOLD YOU WHEN WE MET: SHE DIDN'T PROGRAM ME. [Considering Keats' attitude to magic at the time, it's not a stretch to think he purposefully forgot.] SHE BUILT A ROBOT TO HOUSE AN ARTIFICIAL SOUL. [Another shrug.] I WANT WHAT I'VE ALWAYS WANTED. SHE DOESN'T GET A SAY IN THAT AND SHE KNOWS IT.
[Right, he does vaguely recall something like that, but had rather shrugged it off as something too ridiculous to really consider. Now, in the middle of his still-slow turnaround on the existence of magic, he, well, has to admit that maybe that could be a thing.]
...
[He stares at Mettaton for a moment before letting out a sigh, leaning back in the chair with a pensive expression, his eyebrows furrowed.]
And what do you want? Like, really want? I guess it's one thing if you want to be a celebrity, but...are you happy being one, Mettaton?
OF COURSE I AM. YES, ALRIGHT, IT SOUNDS SHALLOW, BUT. YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND: THERE WASN'T ANYTHING LIKE ME IN THE UNDERGROUND FOR A VERY, VERY LONG TIME. OUR CULTURE IS BASED ON HOPE AND BEING TRAPPED UNDER A MOUNTAIN WITH A KING WHO SWEARS TO START ANOTHER WAR THE INSTANT WE ESCAPE DOESN'T OFFER A LOT OF IT. YOU KNOW I LOVE GLITZ AND GLAMOUR MORE THAN ANYTHING ALIVE, BUT I DIDN'T START DOING WHAT I DO JUST FOR THAT. I DID IT FOR EVERYONE ELSE.
ALL WE EVER HAD FOR ENTERTAINMENT WAS WHAT THE HUMANS THREW AWAY. DON'T GET ME WRONG, THEIR MEDIA IS SPECTACULAR AND IT'S AN ENORMOUS INSPIRATION TO ME, BUT WE NEEDED SOMETHING OF OUR OWN.
[He twirls the fingers of his hands, as if casting some sort of magic spell, but ultimate just gestures to himself.]
[That's right. He had talked with Papyrus about it before. It's not like this is news. But somehow, the way Mettaton puts it...]
[Well, it doesn't sound like a casual truth as much as "we were stuck in a veritable prison and had to make do with what we could".]
[They were isolated from the world at large. It doesn't sound particularly bad to Keats - he enjoyed his own isolation when he could get it - but he had the freedom to leave whenever he wanted. The monsters in Mettaton's world didn't.]
[He can understand it better, now.]
You were their glittering, golden beacon of hope and entertainment. [He says, a hint amused, though it sounds more fond than not.]
I mean, I don't watch movies and the television all that often, but even I know how vital something like that is in a dark period of time when there's little to nothing to go on. Any entertainment is. I mean, a lot of the stories we know today often came about during times of despair and darkness.
[He leans his cheek on his hand.]
That sounds like quite the role. [A small smile.] I'm guessing you had quite a lot of viewers, back home.
[Ah, there's that stupid burning feeling in his core again. He hates it. It doesn't need to happen every time someone decides his validate him for his selflessness, but here we are. The lights on his screen briefly form a heart as a hand gets placed against his "cheek."
It's brief because the next statement is that.
The lights dim.]
...DO YOU WANT THE TRUTH?
[He knows Keats is going to say "yes", but here's hoping something possess that horrible brain of his to make him have mercy.]
I would like to know, but...I'm not going to force you.
[Just like Mettaton hasn't really forced the truth out of him (except being persistent but he doesn't count that). He's not here to interrogate Mettaton at all.]
[Okay, now he knows Keats is gone. This is some sweet, self-aware replacement that actually manages to show a shred of decency.
Mettaton leans in further, as if he still had lips. His screen doesn't touch the man, but a brief spark leaves it, light and gentle, to strike Keats' cheek.
It's what he has in this form, okay?
He rolls himself back to his chair. Somehow, the consideration makes him feel safe enough to answer. How pathetic, huh?]
TRUTH BE TOLD? ...NO. I DIDN'T HAVE A LOT OF VIEWERS. I WORKED EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY, BUT. WELL, NOT EVERYONE APPRECIATES THAT.
[If he had a head, he'd be tilting it. Blooky cared. Those callers cared. Papyrus cared...]
[The Shred of Decency you have bought will now last for the next 30 minutes. When it runs out, you can either buy another one with a miracle or wait for an entire year until another one occurs.]
[Keats' eyes widen at the little jolt of electricity, and he reaches up a hand to rub at that place.]
What? You?
[For the way he acted, Keats could scarcely think that he wasn't the most popular person where he came from.]
[Oh, this fool... Ugh. Now Mettaton knows he's gotten too attached - even that honest disbelief makes him feel like he's melting.]
OH, YOU KNOW HOW THE STORY GOES: HE'S TOO CONCEITED. HE'S TOO LOUD. HE SHOULD BE DOING SOMETHING BETTER WITH HIS TIME. WHO CARES ABOUT HIM? HE'S JUST A ROBOT.
I'M NOT STUPID. I'VE HEARD EVERY REASON IN THE BOOK. IT'S JUST BETTER TO CHALK IT UP AS JEALOUSY, ISN'T IT?
[Mettaton is vain. He's conceited. Arrogant. That much is true. Keats would agree with that any day and throw in several more complaints on top of it.]
[He doesn't know why it irks him to hear that other people are calling him that.]
Haven't they realized what you're trying to do for them? I mean, if they're taking you at face value...
[He pauses. He's...done just that, hasn't he?]
[Wow, that's not a nice feeling to feel.]
Anyways, what kind of entertainment do you do, anyways? I know you sing.
[Ugh, stop it! Stop saying nice things about him...! He's flashing that stupid heart again, isn't he?
He is. He can see its reflection on the table. Stupid, stupid...
Whatever! This is about you, Mettaton!! Enjoy talking about you!]
OH, EVERYTHING I CAN! WHEN YOU'RE THE ONLY CHANNEL THAT'S ON, YOU HAVE TO HAVE A PROGRAM FOR EVERYTHING. NEWS, MOVIES, INSTRUCTIONAL PROGRAMS, COOKING SHOWS, INFOMERCIALS, FASHION SHOWS, SOAP OPERAS, DRAMAS, MUSICALS, PLAYS, POLICE PROCEDURALS, HOME NETWORKS, REALITY TELEVISION, SPORTS BROADCASTING, AND NOT TO MENTION THE EVER IMPORTANT ADVERTISING...
SIGH. THIS IS THE MOST FREE TIME I'VE HAD IN YEARS.
MMM... ALPHYS DID ALL THE CAMERA WORK AND MAKING PRODUCTS FOR ME TO SELL, BUT MOST OF MY STAFF WERE ONLY HIRED TO HELP RUN MY RESORT. HA. WHY HAVE AN ENTERTAINMENT ROBOT IF HE CAN'T DO EVERYTHING, EH?
When we met, you were some strange and vaguely intriguing robot with an obsession with putting up your leg every other second. I can't say that I was particularly incredibly interested in the beginning...
[And now he's a strange and far-more-intriguing-than-suspected robot he...actually has weird feelings over.]
Anyways, what did you do to try raising viewership? I mean, since people seemed too stubborn to watch you.
[Sorry, what was that? He couldn't hear Keats over the sound of his own leg getting stretched onto the table.
Thunk.
Admire that.]
DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I STARTED WITH THAT LAUNDRY LIST FROM DAY ONE? I SAW NEEDS AND I TRIED TO FILL THEM, BE IT WITH NEW PROGRAMS, NEW PRODUCTS, ANOTHER RESTAURANT, YADDA YADDA...
[Robotic sigh.]
HA. THE MOST VIEWS I EVER HAD WAS WHEN I WAS THREATENING TO LEAVE.
[He isn't sure he wants to tell this story. It's not the greatest for PR, honestly.
...but. It's one of the least horrible things Mettaton has done. If Keats reacts badly to this, then...]
...THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO, HUMAN MAGES CAST A SPELL TO TRAP MONSTERS UNDER A SINGLE MOUNTAIN. THE ONLY WAY OUT WAS EITHER TO TAKE SEVEN HUMAN SOULS TO BREAK THE BARRIER FOR EVERYONE... OR JUST USE ONE FOR YOURSELF.
[He's back to tapping his fingers against his arms. You're a smart cookie, Keats. Don't make him have to spell this one out for you.]
[Human souls needed to cross a barrier. A child who had fallen down into the world of monsters.]
[He makes the connection, his expression turning grim. He can understand why the monsters would be desperate to leave, by any means possible. To leave their prison for good. But to use a child for that...]
[It's tragic, really.]
I wonder why humans would make a barrier like that, if the way to cross it meant a solution involving their own souls. [But he digresses...] When you were threatening to leave, did you mean leave your show, or...leave the underground?
[His show was his life. It was all he had for years. It was his place in the Underground. To leave one would be to leave them both.]
I DON'T THINK THEY EVER IMAGINED US GETTING OUR HANDS ON ANY SOULS, TO BE HONEST. OVER THE THOUSANDS OF YEARS WE'VE BEEN IMPRISONED, ONLY SEVEN HUMANS HAVE FALLEN, FRISK INCLUDED.
ASGORE, OUR KING. HE ALREADY HAD SIX SOULS.
EVERYONE IN THE UNDERGROUND KNEW FRISK WAS THE LAST ONE HE'D NEED.
[Another sigh. Shakier this time, still steeled. Keats hasn't acted in disgust yet. Mettaton can keep talking.]
...WHEN A MONSTER TAKES A HUMAN SOUL, THEY TURN INTO SOMETHING TERRIBLE. FOR ALL OF OUR MAGIC, MONSTERS THEMSELVES ARE WEAK TO EMOTION - WE WILL LITERALLY DIE WITHOUT LOVE, MERCY, OR COMPASSION. BUT HUMAN SOULS DON'T NEED ANY OF THOSE. THEY'RE STRONGER. THEY CAN SURVIVE AFTER DEATH. TOGETHER... THE POWER IS TERRIFYING.
THAT'S WITH ONLY ONE.
WITH SEVEN? ASGORE WOULD HAVE KILLED EVERY HUMAN ON THE PLANET.
WE ALL KNEW THAT. UNDYNE KNEW THAT. SANS KNEW THAT. PAPYRUS WAS OBSESSED WITH JOINING THE ROYAL GUARD; HE HAS TO HAVE KNOWN THAT. ALPHYS WAS MORE INTERESTED IN MAKING SURE THE HUMAN WAS HER NEW BEST FRIEND THAN PUTTING A STOP TO IT.
SO I DECIDED THAT IF IT STOPPED A WAR... I'D KILL THEM INSTEAD.
FINALLY HAVING AN AUDIENCE THAT MIGHT CARE WAS JUST A BONUS.
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...
[He stares at Mettaton for a moment before letting out a sigh, leaning back in the chair with a pensive expression, his eyebrows furrowed.]
And what do you want? Like, really want? I guess it's one thing if you want to be a celebrity, but...are you happy being one, Mettaton?
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OF COURSE I AM. YES, ALRIGHT, IT SOUNDS SHALLOW, BUT. YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND: THERE WASN'T ANYTHING LIKE ME IN THE UNDERGROUND FOR A VERY, VERY LONG TIME. OUR CULTURE IS BASED ON HOPE AND BEING TRAPPED UNDER A MOUNTAIN WITH A KING WHO SWEARS TO START ANOTHER WAR THE INSTANT WE ESCAPE DOESN'T OFFER A LOT OF IT. YOU KNOW I LOVE GLITZ AND GLAMOUR MORE THAN ANYTHING ALIVE, BUT I DIDN'T START DOING WHAT I DO JUST FOR THAT. I DID IT FOR EVERYONE ELSE.
ALL WE EVER HAD FOR ENTERTAINMENT WAS WHAT THE HUMANS THREW AWAY. DON'T GET ME WRONG, THEIR MEDIA IS SPECTACULAR AND IT'S AN ENORMOUS INSPIRATION TO ME, BUT WE NEEDED SOMETHING OF OUR OWN.
[He twirls the fingers of his hands, as if casting some sort of magic spell, but ultimate just gestures to himself.]
THAT'S ME.
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[That's right. He had talked with Papyrus about it before. It's not like this is news. But somehow, the way Mettaton puts it...]
[Well, it doesn't sound like a casual truth as much as "we were stuck in a veritable prison and had to make do with what we could".]
[They were isolated from the world at large. It doesn't sound particularly bad to Keats - he enjoyed his own isolation when he could get it - but he had the freedom to leave whenever he wanted. The monsters in Mettaton's world didn't.]
[He can understand it better, now.]
You were their glittering, golden beacon of hope and entertainment. [He says, a hint amused, though it sounds more fond than not.]
I mean, I don't watch movies and the television all that often, but even I know how vital something like that is in a dark period of time when there's little to nothing to go on. Any entertainment is. I mean, a lot of the stories we know today often came about during times of despair and darkness.
[He leans his cheek on his hand.]
That sounds like quite the role. [A small smile.] I'm guessing you had quite a lot of viewers, back home.
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It's brief because the next statement is that.
The lights dim.]
...DO YOU WANT THE TRUTH?
[He knows Keats is going to say "yes", but here's hoping something possess that horrible brain of his to make him have mercy.]
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[He shrugs.]
I would like to know, but...I'm not going to force you.
[Just like Mettaton hasn't really forced the truth out of him (except being persistent but he doesn't count that). He's not here to interrogate Mettaton at all.]
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[What.
Mettaton pushes himself out of his chair and wheels himself over to Keats' side. He leans in, pushing strands of hair away from his ear.]
TARAXA, DEAR, I'M GOING TO NEED YOU TO LEAVE THIS PLACE. THERE'S NOTHING BUT BITTERNESS IN THERE ANYHOW, YOU'RE GOING TO STARVE.
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[HE'S NOT INFECTED WITH A PARASITE BECAUSE HE'S SURPRISINGLY DECENT, METTATON!]
I mean, yes, of course I'd like to know, I'm curious to a fault, but I mean, when you were getting me to reveal things, I just...
[He lets out a loud, frustrated sigh as he pushes himself away.]
I thought how I would feel if I was being forced to say something I didn't want and...I-I just thought you wouldn't like that, either.
[KEATS HAS LEVELED UP TO LEVEL 2 OF SOCIAL INTERACTION: PUTTING YOURSELF IN OTHER PEOPLE'S SHOES. A REAL MIRACLE.]
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[Okay, now he knows Keats is gone. This is some sweet, self-aware replacement that actually manages to show a shred of decency.
Mettaton leans in further, as if he still had lips. His screen doesn't touch the man, but a brief spark leaves it, light and gentle, to strike Keats' cheek.
It's what he has in this form, okay?
He rolls himself back to his chair. Somehow, the consideration makes him feel safe enough to answer. How pathetic, huh?]
TRUTH BE TOLD? ...NO. I DIDN'T HAVE A LOT OF VIEWERS. I WORKED EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY, BUT. WELL, NOT EVERYONE APPRECIATES THAT.
[If he had a head, he'd be tilting it. Blooky cared. Those callers cared. Papyrus cared...]
SOME DID.
[Another shrug.]
EVENTUALLY, YOU LEARN THAT THAT'S ENOUGH.
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[Keats' eyes widen at the little jolt of electricity, and he reaches up a hand to rub at that place.]
What? You?
[For the way he acted, Keats could scarcely think that he wasn't the most popular person where he came from.]
I can't believe it. Why?
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OH, YOU KNOW HOW THE STORY GOES: HE'S TOO CONCEITED. HE'S TOO LOUD. HE SHOULD BE DOING SOMETHING BETTER WITH HIS TIME. WHO CARES ABOUT HIM? HE'S JUST A ROBOT.
I'M NOT STUPID. I'VE HEARD EVERY REASON IN THE BOOK. IT'S JUST BETTER TO CHALK IT UP AS JEALOUSY, ISN'T IT?
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[He doesn't know why it irks him to hear that other people are calling him that.]
Haven't they realized what you're trying to do for them? I mean, if they're taking you at face value...
[He pauses. He's...done just that, hasn't he?]
[Wow, that's not a nice feeling to feel.]
Anyways, what kind of entertainment do you do, anyways? I know you sing.
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He is. He can see its reflection on the table. Stupid, stupid...
Whatever! This is about you, Mettaton!! Enjoy talking about you!]
OH, EVERYTHING I CAN! WHEN YOU'RE THE ONLY CHANNEL THAT'S ON, YOU HAVE TO HAVE A PROGRAM FOR EVERYTHING. NEWS, MOVIES, INSTRUCTIONAL PROGRAMS, COOKING SHOWS, INFOMERCIALS, FASHION SHOWS, SOAP OPERAS, DRAMAS, MUSICALS, PLAYS, POLICE PROCEDURALS, HOME NETWORKS, REALITY TELEVISION, SPORTS BROADCASTING, AND NOT TO MENTION THE EVER IMPORTANT ADVERTISING...
SIGH. THIS IS THE MOST FREE TIME I'VE HAD IN YEARS.
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Goodness. [It just makes his mind spin, doing all of that.] Don't you have a team or something to help you?
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[THIS IS NEWS]
Don't tell me you had a theme park, too.
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[Could you IMAGINE? Costumed Mettatons wandering about! Classy water-rides! A rollercoaster with the longest drops in the shape of his legs...!
He makes a motion like he's flipping his hair, despite having neither head nor hair at this exact second.
Anyway.]
DIDN'T I TELL YOU THAT WHEN WE MET? ABOUT HOW SANS WORKED THERE FOR ME? HONEY. CUPCAKE.
IT'S LIKE YOU'VE NEVER REALLY PAID ATTENTION TO ME BEFORE...
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[And now he's a strange and far-more-intriguing-than-suspected robot he...actually has weird feelings over.]
Anyways, what did you do to try raising viewership? I mean, since people seemed too stubborn to watch you.
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Thunk.
Admire that.]
DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I STARTED WITH THAT LAUNDRY LIST FROM DAY ONE? I SAW NEEDS AND I TRIED TO FILL THEM, BE IT WITH NEW PROGRAMS, NEW PRODUCTS, ANOTHER RESTAURANT, YADDA YADDA...
[Robotic sigh.]
HA. THE MOST VIEWS I EVER HAD WAS WHEN I WAS THREATENING TO LEAVE.
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You look like someone with nice boots got stuck in a vending machine.
[IT'S TRUE THOUGH]
What? What do you mean, threatening to leave?
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[That's hurtful, Keats. The leg slinks off the table and disappears, retreating back into the metal shell.]
PAPYRUS NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT THE HUMAN THAT FELL, DID HE?
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Wait a second. A human that fell...Frisk?
[He vaguely remembers Papyrus mentioning a name like that.]
Papyrus said he fought a child.
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[He isn't sure he wants to tell this story. It's not the greatest for PR, honestly.
...but. It's one of the least horrible things Mettaton has done. If Keats reacts badly to this, then...]
...THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO, HUMAN MAGES CAST A SPELL TO TRAP MONSTERS UNDER A SINGLE MOUNTAIN. THE ONLY WAY OUT WAS EITHER TO TAKE SEVEN HUMAN SOULS TO BREAK THE BARRIER FOR EVERYONE... OR JUST USE ONE FOR YOURSELF.
[He's back to tapping his fingers against his arms. You're a smart cookie, Keats. Don't make him have to spell this one out for you.]
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[Human souls needed to cross a barrier. A child who had fallen down into the world of monsters.]
[He makes the connection, his expression turning grim. He can understand why the monsters would be desperate to leave, by any means possible. To leave their prison for good. But to use a child for that...]
[It's tragic, really.]
I wonder why humans would make a barrier like that, if the way to cross it meant a solution involving their own souls. [But he digresses...] When you were threatening to leave, did you mean leave your show, or...leave the underground?
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[His show was his life. It was all he had for years. It was his place in the Underground. To leave one would be to leave them both.]
I DON'T THINK THEY EVER IMAGINED US GETTING OUR HANDS ON ANY SOULS, TO BE HONEST. OVER THE THOUSANDS OF YEARS WE'VE BEEN IMPRISONED, ONLY SEVEN HUMANS HAVE FALLEN, FRISK INCLUDED.
ASGORE, OUR KING. HE ALREADY HAD SIX SOULS.
EVERYONE IN THE UNDERGROUND KNEW FRISK WAS THE LAST ONE HE'D NEED.
[Another sigh. Shakier this time, still steeled. Keats hasn't acted in disgust yet. Mettaton can keep talking.]
...WHEN A MONSTER TAKES A HUMAN SOUL, THEY TURN INTO SOMETHING TERRIBLE. FOR ALL OF OUR MAGIC, MONSTERS THEMSELVES ARE WEAK TO EMOTION - WE WILL LITERALLY DIE WITHOUT LOVE, MERCY, OR COMPASSION. BUT HUMAN SOULS DON'T NEED ANY OF THOSE. THEY'RE STRONGER. THEY CAN SURVIVE AFTER DEATH. TOGETHER... THE POWER IS TERRIFYING.
THAT'S WITH ONLY ONE.
WITH SEVEN? ASGORE WOULD HAVE KILLED EVERY HUMAN ON THE PLANET.
WE ALL KNEW THAT. UNDYNE KNEW THAT. SANS KNEW THAT. PAPYRUS WAS OBSESSED WITH JOINING THE ROYAL GUARD; HE HAS TO HAVE KNOWN THAT. ALPHYS WAS MORE INTERESTED IN MAKING SURE THE HUMAN WAS HER NEW BEST FRIEND THAN PUTTING A STOP TO IT.
SO I DECIDED THAT IF IT STOPPED A WAR... I'D KILL THEM INSTEAD.
FINALLY HAVING AN AUDIENCE THAT MIGHT CARE WAS JUST A BONUS.
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