Chapter Text
The first time Tenna met Spamton, it was at one of Queen’s parties. The laptop had invited Tenna to one of her ragers, and he had immediately regretted it. The music was way too loud, and the dense crowd made it hard for him to move without crushing someone. He’d been looking for a way to (politely) leave when Spamton appeared. The little salesman bounced around Tenna, talking up a storm about breaking into the TV industry, and offered to discuss a possible sponsorship in his office. While Tenna didn’t particularly like boring business meetings, he eagerly took the opportunity to get out of the crowded room.
Spamton was surprisingly good company. Tenna had originally come here to discuss a sponsorship from Big Shot Autos, but somewhere along the way, they’d veered off track. Stories and banter flowed easily between them.
“So I was drunk, stumbling around in an alleyway, when a stray [alleycat] leaps out and startles the [@*#&] out of me.”
“Another cat?”
“No! It was the same goddamn tasque!”
“The same one? They must really like you!”
“[Like] me?” Spamton laughed, “That demon hates me!”
“Well if TV shows have taught me anything about cats, it’s that-”
Shrill ringing broke through their conversation. Both of them flinched at the harsh noise. It came from inside a side room to Spamton’s office, surprisingly clear despite the door being shut.
“Sorry, Tenna,” Spamton sighed. “I’ve got to go answer that.”
“It’s pretty late, surely they can wait for a more reasonable time.”
“Just one of the downsides to being a [Big Shot]. Can’t have a normal schedule when there’s so much to do!”
“Right, of course!” Tenna waved him off. “Go do whatever you need to, haha!”
Spamton hopped off his chair and headed to the side room. Tenna patiently waited… For five seconds. He quickly got up from his chair and pressed an antenna to the wall, trying to hear what was so important about this call. Despite the fact Tenna had much better hearing than most, he couldn’t pick up any sounds from inside. The room must’ve been completely soundproof. So, he went back to his chair with a huff. Fortunately, the call only took a few minutes.
But when Spamton emerged, he had… changed.
Nothing was different physically. Most Darkners wouldn’t be able to see anything different. Tenna didn’t exactly see things, though. He got around by feeling things with his antennae. While he missed out on a few things like colors, he became more sensitive to other things. Namely, Darkners’ souls.
Somehow, in the span of one phone call, Spamton’s soul had changed.
Souls shifted around all the time, but it wasn’t usually this drastic. It had to be something severely life altering. Spamton didn’t seem bothered though. He simply slid back into his chair behind the desk.
“We should probably finish this up soon,” Spamton said, motioning towards the plans they’d written out for the Big Shot Autos ad. “You said you have to wake up [early bird] tomorrow for a show, right?”
“Oh, yes! The sponsorship,” Tenna had nearly forgotten the whole reason he’d come here in the first place. He was still a bit concerned for Spamton, but the salesman seemed completely fine outside of the change to his soul. Maybe it was normal for digital Darkners? Plus, he’d only just met the man. It was probably too quick to ask such personal questions.
Spamton was completely focused on business after that phone call, and Tenna couldn’t help but feel like the Addison was just rushing to kick Tenna out. The TV smothered the soured mood and did his best to stay professional. The contract negotiation went by smoothly. Swatch offered to drive Tenna back to TV World, and Tenna spent the whole drive wondering about what had happened in that phone call.
Spamton had two phones. The first one was a flipphone that he carried around. That one seemed completely normal, and it was the one Tenna saw him use the most. The second one was a rotary phone. That one was… honestly just plain creepy. The ringing was disconcerting, and there was some sort of staticky feel in the surrounding air. Sometimes, Tenna could swear that there were voices whispering on the other side, but nothing distinct ever came through. Not for Tenna, at least. And, of course, the most concerning thing of all was that every time Spamton answered that phone, he’d reappear with extreme alterations to his soul.
The first time Tenna asked about it, Spamton simply went, “Huh. I’ll be [honest to God], I didn’t know about that.”
“How can you not realize your soul is changing?”
Spamton shrugged. “Cyber Darkners get [pending update] all the time. That’s probably what’s [altering] my soul.”
“But, it’s so drastic!” Tenna threw up his hands in exasperation. “It’s like one day you’re tangled up in licorice, and the next, you’re filled with cake batter!”
“I’m [iced filling] with what…?”
“The point is, you’re completely different! And why does it happen every time you answer the phone?”
Spamton shrugged. “I just take the time I’m in private to do an update.”
The insistence on privacy just added onto Tenna’s frustration. Spamton ensured that no one was in the same room when he was taking a call on the rotary phone. The conversations were “highly classified” apparently. He made Tenna create a soundproof room in the studio just for that damn phone.
Tenna had no way to argue against Spamton’s explanation, though. He shrunk a bit. “It’s just concerning…”
“It’s probably not a big deal if I haven’t even noticed it.” Spamton patted Tenna’s hip. The CRT hadn’t shrunk enough for him to reach any higher than that. “Just try to ignore it, Tens.”
After that, Tenna started to pay attention to other digital Darkners just to see if what Spamton was saying was true. Swatch never changed as much as Spamton did. The TV even suffered through a few visits to the other Addisons, and they stayed fairly stable. Every time he brought it up, Spamton had some explanation about how he was just a different type of program than the rest, and with the Lightners’ attention on him, he was more likely to be updated.
Tenna didn’t know enough about “E-Mail” to reject those claims. He still pushed, though, trying to find a crack in Spamton’s argument. His questions didn’t go completely unanswered. Spamton eventually admitted that he had a mysterious benefactor backing him up. The phone was exclusively for contacting that benefactor. And maybe Tenna could’ve waited for Spamton to open up on his own instead of pestering him, but the closer he got to Spamton, the more he realized how much those calls were affecting him.
Sometimes, he’d come out exhausted, barely able to stumble onto his couch before passing out. Other times, he would forget what they were talking about before he took a call. There were also subtle changes to his body. The feathers on Spamton’s head would go from soft to brittle. His smell would shift slightly.
And only Tenna knew. Tenna was the only person Spamton allowed himself to be vulnerable around. Tenna was the only person who would stroke Spamton’s feathers. Tenna was the only person who could sense the changes happening to his mailman. And if no one else (not even Spamton himself) noticed any of this, then what other changes might be happening that Tenna didn’t know about?
It all came to a head when Spamton’s hand disappeared.
It was only for a second. Spamton had just emerged from another phone call when the hand holding the doorknob fizzled apart. He’d stumbled, his balance faltering as half of his arm went through the door. By the time he’d regained his footing, the hand had snapped back into place.
For a moment, they both stood, motionless. Everything was still until Spamton slowly brought his gaze up to Tenna’s screen.
The CRT gripped onto every ounce of his acting experience to stop himself from panicking. “Spamton. What the hell was that?”
The Addison waved Tenna’s concern away using the same hand that had just disappeared a few seconds ago. “Just a [glitch in the system], Ant.”
“You were in two pieces.”
“Well, I’m back to being whole, so it’s fine.”
That was it.
Tenna began to grow as his frustration boiled over. “Spamton. You need to tell me what is happening in those phone calls right now.”
Spamton’s mouth twitched downwards. “You know that’s [classified].”
“I don’t care. You either tell me what’s happening, or I’m going to figure it out myself.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll come in while you’re on a call, or- or maybe I should just destroy that phone! Your business has grown enough that you don’t need them anymore, right?”
“Whatever my benefactor might be doing doesn’t matter. I’m fine! And it helps you out too, right? So stop worrying about it.”
“You lost your hand! How is that fine?!”
“It was just one glitch! [Cyber City] Darkners glitch all the time when they’re sick.”
“So it’s making you sick?”
“Not every bad thing that happens to me is because of the phone!”
“Can you really blame me for connecting the dots here?! You keep changing every single time you answer that phone. It’s obviously doing something to you!” Tenna began to pace as he rambled. “It feels like it’s getting worse! And even if it doesn’t hurt, what if you change too much? What if I can’t recognize you anymore…? Whatever this is, it’s not natural!”
Spamton fell silent. His furrowed brows softened, and his shoulders slumped. He gritted his teeth and looked away before he quietly asked, “Would you be happier if I… convinced them to slow down?”
The momentum Tenna had built up faltered. “I’m just worried about you and all these changes.”
“Our ratings will [high chance of] plateau. Maybe even drop a little.”
“That’s fine.” Tenna immediately assured.
Spamton’s frown deepened. Tenna prepared for another deflection or excuse, but Spamton simply sighed in defeat. “… Okay. I can figure something out.”
“Is… This a requirement of your deal? Are they going to do something if you refuse them…?"
“It should be fine. I mean, you’re right.” Spamton got quiet again. His tone somber and resigned. “It’s [not natural].”
The phone rang.
“[Speak of the devil], heh.” Spamton walked to the room. “This one might take [a little bit], so just [sit tight], alright?”
“A-alright…” Tenna replied. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d said something wrong, but Spamton had already shut the door.