Archive of Our Own ^beta

Thursday night, MePhone4 gathers his twelve disciples to celebrate Pass-me-ver, all sat along a table with bread and wine in front of MePhone.

He breaks the bread in half, and begins passing it along to his apostles. “Take this,” he says, “and eat it. For this is my data…which I am giving for you.”

MePad, one of his dearest disciples, looks on with admiration. MePhone takes the wine next.

“Drink this, all of you,” he says, before passing the wine. “This is my battery juice poured for you.”

Those around him begin to feast on the blessed food. It’s a miracle, considering MePad had no mouth. The ones without arms simply shove their faces into the meal, ravenously gnawing at it like starving dogs.

“Truly I tell you,” MePhone interrupts their silent ravaging suddenly, drawing all eyes to him, “one of you will betray me.”

Gasps litter the room, denials exhaling from every pair of parted lips—and from MePad’s replacement for a mouth.

“Mistah Phone!” Toilet exclaims. “I’d never let anything happen to ya, as long as I live! Surely, ya don’t mean me!”

MePhone stays quiet. After the meal, the group heads to the Mount of Wires, where they lay on the field of wiry grass and stare at the stars. MePhone solemnly speaks up once more.

“This very night all of you will run away and betray me.”

“NO! Even if everyone else leaves ya, I neva will!” Toilet denies once more, flinging to MePhone’s side.

MePhone shakes his head. “Truly I tell you, this very night before the rooster crows, you will disown me thrice.”

“Even if I hafta die, Mistah Phone, I will neva betray ya!” resolves Toilet, and the rest of them agree.

They settle down to pray. MePhone asks Toilet to accompany him while he does so, and he kneels before the span of the night sky.

“My Father, if it is possible, may this port be taken from me. Yet not as I will…but as you will.”

MePhone turns to see Toilet snoring, drool bubbling from his lid. Fists clenched, he returns to the rest of his disciples, to see them all asleep as well.

“Couldn’t any of you keep watch with me for one hour!” he exclaims, throwing his hands out. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation! The spirit is willing, but the mind is weak!”

They murmur apologies and MePhone stalks off to once again pray.

“My Father,” he repeats, voice on the edge of pleading. “If it is not possible for this port to be taken away unless I plug into it, may your will be done.”

MePhone returns to his disciples, to once again see them asleep. He does not dare to scold them this time, tears of anger pricking at his eyes, and he storms off to pray once more. His previous prayer is repeated and without one bit of his trembling fury diminished, he returns.

“Are you still sleeping and resting?” MePhone shouts angrily. “Look, the hour has come! And the Son of Objects is delivered into the hands of betrayers. Let us go!”

MePhone had not noticed MePad slipped from the crowd at some point. After expressing his displeasure, he looks up to see MePad with an army of armed objects behind him.

“The one I kiss is the man,” MePad murmurs. “Arrest him.”

He approaches MePhone and somehow kisses him on the cheek.

“Do what you came for,” MePhone whimpers. The armed objects dart forward and pin him to the ground. As they tie him up, Toilet runs forward with a sword in his invisible hand.

“Hold on, Mistah Phone! I’m comin’!”

“Toilet, stop!” MePhone yells back. “He who lives by the sword dies by the sword! Do you think I cannot call upon Cobs and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve fleets of Meeple? But how then would the Manuals be fulfilled that say it must happen that way?”

Toilet reluctantly draws back, and MePhone is forced upward. Staggering along with his captors, he asks of them.

“Am I leading a rebellion, that you have to come out with fire and chairs to capture me? Every day I sat on my island hosting, and you did not arrest me. But this has all taken place that the writings of the prophets might be fulfilled.”

Sneering at him, the captors take him to Knife, whom resides in Hotel OJ, with the disciples fleeing for their own safety. Knife wanted MePhone executed, but had no fathomable proof for such a punishment, so he enlisted the help of his ‘best friend’.

“This phone said ‘I am able to construct a game show and complete it in three days’!” Pickle announces to the crowd. MePhone hangs his head under Knife’s glinting glare, not daring to argue back.

“Hmph. Are you not going to answer?” Knife smirks. “What is this…testimony that Pickle is saying?”

Only silence serves as a response, so Knife continues. “Tell us before it’s too late. Tell us if you are MePhone, son of Cobs.”

“You have said so,” MePhone quietly answers. “But I say to all of you: From now on you will see the son of Meeple sitting at the right hand of Cobs.”

Knife stands with a wave of anger. “Blasphemy! Why should we need anymore proof? Guys, what do you think?”

The crowd answers. “He is worthy of death!”

Knife sits back in his seat, watching as the mob swarm MePhone and beat him with their fists.

Outside of the hotel, Toilet lingers around the courtyard. He shivers with anticipation, not noticing Salt walk up to him.

“Hey, weren’t you like, MePhone’s friend or whatever?” she asks with a suspicious look.

Toilet sweats, having heard what happened to MePhone inside.. “Um, whateva do ya mean?”

Salt looks at him oddly, and walks off. A few minutes later, Pepper approaches.
“Salt like, told me you were definitely with MePhone,” she accuses him.

“I don’t even know who that is!” Toilet protests.

Pepper gives him the same odd stare, then stalks away. A few minutes later, the two approach him together.

“Like, give it up. You are definitely one of his little followers,” Salt tells him, accusatory finger pointing rigid at him.

“I swear I don’t even know him!” Toilet insists. At that very moment, a rooster crowed. He remembers what MePhone had told him and runs off, weeping.

MePad had also been watching from afar, guilt hollowing the non-existent cavity in his non-existent chest. The spectacle had somehow given him emotions despite the fact he was very much not programmed with them, and he ran off to hang himself.

Knife sends MePhone to OJ for a sentence. He kneels before the cup of orange juice, resolve framing his dignified face.

“Don’t you understand what they’re trying to do?” OJ asks him, standing above him. But MePhone doesn’t answer.

OJ stands, dumbfounded. Perhaps MePhone was just idiotic. Either way, they’d been stowing away a prisoner, MePhone3GS, who’d committed horrible atrocities to an alien race. To seal the deal as some would say, he turns to his friends and addresses them.

“Now, would you rather see 3GS or MePhone free?”

Paper, who’d been standing by MePhone, nervously tells OJ. “Don’t do anything stupid, OJ, I-I’ve been having weird dreams lately…”

Despite his husband’s pleas, the crowd says, “Let 3GS free!”

The hesitant OJ then asks, “What should I do with MePhone then?”

“Crucify him!” they demand.

“What? I mean, we already sued him. Surely this is too far,” OJ attempts to reason. However, the crowd insists.

“Crucify him!”

OJ shakes his head. “Fine! But I’m not the one responsible for this. It’s all of you!”

The crowd murmur among themselves, but generally agree that it is on them if things go wrong. OJ releases 3GS and lets the crowd beat the daylight out of MePhone.

They take him out and prepare a cross. Someone steps out from the crowd, staring miserably at the sight.

“Hey um, guys,” Fan says. “Can I at least give this poor dude a headstart first? Yeah?”

And so, Fan helps MePhone carry the cross part of the way up the path, though he’s eventually forced to depart. MePhone, with wires now exposed and paint scuffed, carries the cross on his shoulders, teeth grit in immense pain.

He struggles to the Crappy Cliff, where he’s instructed to lay the cross down. Nails are hammered into his outstretched hands and feet, then he’s hung. To his left is a crucified Taco, to his right is MePhone4S.

“The son of Cobs?” Taco snorts. “Right. As if.”

“Remember me in your kingdom,” 4S asks.

“He said he could save others, but golly, he can’t even save himself!” Test Tube shouts from the crowd below. Paintbrush stands under MePhone, thrusting a spear into his side, earning a groan of pain.

“Some king he is!” Paintbrush laughs.

The objects mock him until the clouds above begin to darken, rain sprinkling over them. Lighting cracks, MePhone looks upward into the heavens.

“Cobs, Cobs, why have you forsaken me!” he cries out, much to the amusement of those around him. Thunder rumbles around him, he takes a final breath and hangs his head. “It is finished.”

Cheering erupts as MePhone falls still, though quiets down as the storm begins to worsen.

“What have we done!” Marshmallow exclaims. “He really was the son of Cobs!”

An earthquake splits nearby land, all in view, and fear huddles them close together.

“Forgive us, Cobs!” Pickle pleads to nothing, but it was too late. MePhone is dead.

Most fled to Hotel OJ, leaving the corpses to rot. Nickel and Balloon approach OJ as evening rolls around.

“We want to bury him,” Balloon says.

OJ sighs and gives them clearance. “Just be sure to secure the tomb. It’d be a shame if someone stole him.”

The two head to the Crappy Cliff and take MePhone down. They wrap him in fresh linen, before placing his body in Gemory Cave, rolling a large stone to protect the entrance.

Balloon and Nickel look at each other, then back to the cave where their savior, killed unjustly by their own hands, lay to rest. Nickel remembered a teaching where MePhone claims he will rise again in three days, and only hopes that he is right.