AMI-2138: TV Time

TV Time

He/Him - Gay

Before the eruption of the Great Restful One, TV Time had one single, clear purpose:

Put on shows, theater productions, and performances to entertain the predecessors and his fellow Amicabots.

He was, quite literally, created to be a star personality- larger than life, standing at a 4 meter tall height with a personality to match, so that everyone who wished so would be able to see him from far and wide, and it was what he loved doing. Nothing gave him more satisfaction in life than to bring joy to the masses. Be that alone or with a team, he was happy to do what he'd been made to do. He didn't really question it. Why should he? He enjoyed his purpose in life, and his fans loved him. Together with his crew and owners, that was what he did. Oh, he certainly had interests and connections outside of his shows... but nothing was more important than them. 

Who could have forseen that it would all blow up in his face? (Literally!)

He and his crew were putting on a show in a big city, one of the foundational ones in predecessor society, when the tragedy occured. There was not time to prepare, no time to escape. Oh, he tried his best to protect those around him, trying to use his large body as a shield, but in the end, it was no use. TV Time was ravaged by the outburst of the volcano, and before he could do anything, he shut down.

For many years, that was it. He was just one more body among the rest; larger than most, but just as much of a scrap heap. Scavengers came and went, using what they could, and leaving him and his crew for junk.

Many years after the fact, however, TV Time powered on once again. Confused, lost, unsure of what exactly had happened at all.

He was face to face with Spam- a younger Amicabot that had been part of his crew, in charge of the advertisments, one that he'd shared a close bond with before the other just... left without a word. He'd never quite forgiven him for that. He'd thought they were- well, at the very least he'd thought they were friends, if not more. Not just coworkers. But clearly that didn't matter to Spam- and now he was here again in front of TV Time? After everything?

Or, at least, what was left of him. This clearly wasn't the same Spam he'd known before; infected with malware, his once-bright colors burnt and bleached off, his speech filled with glitches, and giving off EMP pulses that caused him to distort every so often in TV Time's visual processors. He didn't even recognize the other at first, shrieking and thinking he was some kind of scavenger he'd woken up just in time to fend off. Then, he noticed he was missing an arm, and that his wires were damaged and exposed, and- and-

When he finally calmed down, he learned that Spam had actually repaired him to the best of his abilities. That he'd been at it for a while, and that this was the best he could do. Spam told him about the state of the world, in glitching and halting words, malware interrupting him every so often, and TV Time...

Didn't know what to do with any of that information. If there was no crew, no audience, why was he even here? It was his entire identity, so what the hell was he supposed to do now?

He had a bit of a crisis, to say the least. He got mad, he yelled, he sulked, he cried for all he was worth. And, despite part of his anger directed at the other bot...

Spam stayed. 

This time, he stayed.

With no other options left, TV Time started to travel alongside Spam, hoping to find a new audience- or, perhaps, a new purpose. He hadn't really forgiven Spam for leaving in the first place (nor did he really understand why; there were a lot of mysteries surrounding the other), but it was... nice. It reminded him of what they once had.

... Maybe, when he figured out everything about Spam, about why he was the way he is now, they could have it once more.

(Perhaps, quietly, they already do, even if neither of them will say it.)