ᐊ ❤ ᐅ

Chapter 1 * Hello World!

"Just you wait! Some day, I'll be a Big Shot!"

It was a late night in Cyber City, and although the city hardly ever slept, the lights still dimmed ever so slightly as the crowds dispersed, quieting down as sellers had long closed their stores for the night.

In the quiet neighbourhoods, hardly a sound could be heard aside from the occasional maus, as well as the slow quiet steps from a small white Addison who made his way back to his store slash home.

Spam had a dejected look as he walked, his mind completely lost in his own thoughts as his grey beady eyes simply stared at the floor in front of him. He had just returned from his weekly Cyber Grill hang out with his siblings after yet another unsuccessful week of sales, hearing them prattle on about how well off they were doing, all while he was kind of just… there.

Well, "siblings" was mostly how he saw them, having been created all around the same time, they decided to stick together, and Spam had had the chance to witness his brothers grow into successful Addisons. They had known each other for what had felt like years, but Spam had yet to make his first sale on his own.

No matter what he did, he just couldn't ever get it right, he'd either mess up his words or be so blunt that any potential customers would just be scared off by his intense energy. It was either that or... No one would even spare a glance in his direction. No matter what advice he got, no matter how much he tried to mirror other Addisons, he was just… Unlucky. And that was how he had met his brothers, wasn't it?

He still remembered it, clear as day...

Batches of tall colourful Addisons released into the world wide web, born and created to fulfil a purpose so ingrained into their hearts, the one thing that was meant to make them feel fulfilled and give their life meaning. To sell and make deals.

But spawning with open arms and a wide smile on his face, the first memory that Spam could remember were the eyes of the various colourful Addisons looking down at him in worry and disgust.

The chatter quieted down as crowds gathered around him like he was born with a third eye. And then the whispers started.

"Oh no, is that one defective?"

"Why is she so small? She looks just like a mannequin."

"No colours? What kind of Addison has white skin like that?"

Voices. Too many voices, somehow, seconds into being born, a sense of dread and horror was already filling his entire essence. "Defective" was a bad thing to be.

Somehow, in his psyche, in the knowledge he had been programmed with, he already knew it deep down, and as he stared up at the adbreaker machine that hovered and loomed closer to him, he fell to his knees, cowering and covering his head as he wept.

Defectives were to be terminated immediately.

" [ BEGIN ANALYSIS PROCESS . . . * STATUS CHECK ] " The machine roared in a booming monotone robotic voice, beginning to scan him " [ SUBJECT NAME : . . . AD:81C9F9 ] "

The machine paused for a moment, sounds of computing ringing in his mind as Spam was shaking, sobbing as he waited for the inevitable to happen. What if it hurt? Was it going to hurt? There was no way it wouldn't hurt.

" [ SUBJECT STATUS : . . . STABLE ] " The machine stated, whatever contraption it had pulled out to scan him was being put away, and Spam heard it fly off. Maybe it was going to grab whatever it was going to use to dismantle him into code, the thought making him bawl more.

However, the machine did not return, but Spam refused to move, he didn't want to look up, he knew everyone was staring at him, feeling frozen by terror until he felt a thin delicate hand rubbing at his back.

"Hey… Are you okay…?" A stranger's voice cooed, and Spam slowly raised his head to look up at the source of it. One of the Addisons had approached him, looking down at him with worry in his eyes. He hadn't even heard them approach him.

"Wh-What…?" Spam was shaking, looking around at the circle of Addisons that surrounded him and this stranger.

"You're safe now, that machine is not going to harm you…" He spoke gently, but Spam couldn't understand what was going on.

"Wh-Why…? What [[Happened]] ?" His voice glitched like a hiccup, causing him to cower again "Wh-Who are you?"

"AD 81C9F9…" He smiled, "But you can just call me Blue for now."

Spam still remembered this clearly. Simpler days when the blue Addison, who later picked the name Banner, took him to a small group of his own, consisting of a snarky pink Addison and an energetic yellow one.

He remembered the pink one looking at him in doubt, and the yellow one asking him a bunch of overly personal questions. Everything was so new back then, and with a group of friends to take him in and help him despite his inherited issues, Spam felt like he could take on the world.

Or so he thought.

He opened the door to his lonely store, a small bell announcing his arrival as the shelves filled with dusty knick-knacks he couldn't sell greeted him with their presence.

Was his store in a bad location? Was his complexion that uncanny to look at? Things seemed to go well when he simply worked with Boost, an older orange Addison that had taken in their group as a sort of mentor figure.

"You know, Spam… If you're ever struggling, you can always come back to my store and model some dresses for me…" He would say, often filled with good intentions "You always looked so good in them and everyone loves you..."

But Spam would cringe at the thought, he used to not mind it as much, but the longer time passed, the more he couldn't stand to look at himself. Flowing white hair and a face like that of a doll, he hated the feeling of the way the dresses would press his hips and accentuate his chest, the way dainty shoes would hurt his feet, and how he'd be called "doll" and "princess " by strangers so many times throughout the day that he'd feel nauseous to his stomach by the end of every shift.

But he didn't have the strength to tell Boost this, or any of them for that matter. He already worried them enough with how naturally bad and incompetent he was at everything, the last thing they needed to know was that he realized he was programmed with the wrong gender on top of all that. How embarrassing...

He sighed, looking down at a travel bag filled with his belongings that was leaning against the wall.

They also didn't need to know that he could no longer afford to pay his rent and that in between keeping his home and his store, he chose to keep the store and was now sleeping in the storage room in the back.

"Are you sure you can handle being on your own?"

"I don't think you're ready to run a store by yourself..."

"Spam… You know that with your condition…"

"What are you even going to sell? Do you have any products? Contacts?"

He could hear their voices spinning in his mind, but he didn't want to prove them right. He just needed to find his big break! Hiccups like never being able to sell anything or... losing his house... they were just… bumps on the road! All part of eventually becoming a successful salesman like his peers, he told himself.

He laid down on the sleeping bag he had placed in the room, cursing his own stubbornness for refusing to go back to live with the Addisons. He needed this. He needed the independence, and to prove to himself that he was good enough to fulfil the one thing he had been created to do.

As he laid down in the sleeping bag, he tried to think of his strategy for the following day. He couldn't be that bad at this, could he? The Addisons had already spent so much time teaching him how to do things, he hated to think that he had just wasted their time. If they followed their own advice and things were working out for them, then it was something he was doing wrong.

But yet, in his exhaustion and brainstorming, it didn't take long until sleep overtook him, filling his night with empty dreams.

Riiiiiiiing

Riiiiiiiing

Riiiiiiiing

Spam awoke startled by the sound of a phone, ringing loudly somewhere in the room. He quickly stumbled out of bed confused, his heart pounding at the sudden unexpected sound, glancing at the clock which claimed to be exactly 6am.

Phone? A phone?! Since when was there a phone here?! Wherever it was, it must have belonged to the old owner of the place, tucked away somewhere in the storage room he slept in. Spam had yet to properly clean up the place, but in a half-asleep state, he looked through the boxes filled with old junk he had never taken the time to clean up.

The sound was loud and demanding, making his head hurt. Whoever was calling was persistent, and Spam was soon able to trace the location of the phone to the corner of the room.

Desperate for silence, Spam pushed out all the old junk in his way, wanting to find out who was calling at such an hour so he could give them a piece of his mind.

The sound was clearer, and as his thin arms lifted yet another box, he finally saw it. Jet black, with an uncanny shine that made it stick out from the old dusty floppy disks and zip files, was a rotary phone. It was so old-styled and Spam couldn't help but feel a pit in his stomach when he saw it.

It wasn't plugged in.

Whatever aura it radiated, made him feel tense and claustrophobic, like looking at the phone was making his head spin and overwhelming him with fear.

His thoughts were interrupted when it rang again and Spam quickly stumbled to pick it up, approaching it to his head. "H-Hello…?! Wh0 is it?" His heart was beating out of his chest at the expectation of whoever would be on the other side.

. . .Silence.

"H-Hello…? Is… Is [any1] there?" Spam repeated, but no sound came from the phone. It wasn't plugged in after all.

Spam looked back at it, feeling even more anxious than before, he placed it back with a metallic clink. He hadn't just hallucinated all of that, had he? He rubbed his tired eyes, crawling back into his sleeping bag with a grumble. Whatever.

It was quiet now, he'd figure out what to do with it later.

ᐊ ❤ ᐅ