Chapter Text
The fall was not a clean one.
Pomni plummeted. She hit something hard, a giant, low-poly crate that splintered into shimmering polygons upon impact, and then tumbled down a hill of discarded textures. When she finally stopped rolling, she lay on her back, staring up. The first thing she noticed was the environment around her.
Hovering over a pile of oversized rubber ducks was a glowing white timer: 00:14:22.
To her left, a floating mountain of mismatched furniture bore a timer of 02:05:11.
Everything here was on a deadline. Kinger did say that things only stayed here for 24 hours. Pomni sat up, her breath coming in ragged, hitching gasps. Her jester hat felt heavy on her head, the bells muffled by the thick, oppressive atmosphere of the bin.
She looked down at the rope tied around her waist. It trailed upward, disappearing into the white light above.
"Okay," Pomni whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "Okay. Focus. Find Caine and then get the hell out."
She stood up on shaky legs, looking around the immediate area. Lots of discarded props and random assets, but no sign of the ringmaster.
"Caine!" she shouted. Her voice echoed, bouncing off a giant, discarded statue of a hand. "Caine! Where are you?!"
Only the hum of the static answered her.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Picking a random direction, she started walking, her boots crunching on what looked like fragments of broken glass. She didn’t know how spawning in the recycling bin works, so Caine could be anywhere in here. She really hoped she could find him in a timely manner, considering he only had-
A movement to her left caught her eye. She froze.
Standing near a pile of oversized wooden blocks was a red mannequin wearing a hat.
Pomni jumped, her heart hammering against her ribs, but a flash of recognition crossed her face, "Oh! Hey, Disappearing Guy. Shot in the dark, but have you seen Caine anywhere?"
“I-”
The countdown above the mannequin’s head reached zero, and he immediately despawned.
Pomni stared at the empty space. Huh. Usually, watching that guy disappear was normal, but something about him vanishing after that timer hit zero was unsettling.
And now it was even more terrifying that Caine was so close to a similar fate. It made her anxiety skyrocket.
"Caine!" she screamed, louder this time, her panic rising. "Caine, if you can hear me, say something! Caine!"
Nothing.
She began to run. The terrain was a nightmare. She climbed over a massive blue tea kettle. She skidded down a slope of chunks of the circus floor. And she tripped on a potted plant. The more she traversed the environment and saw no sign of Caine, the more paranoid she became.
What if he’s already gone? The thought was a cold needle in her brain. If Caine was deleted, they were all stuck in the decaying remains of the Circus forever. And that scared her more than anything.
As she crested a ridge made of a totaled semi-truck, her foot got caught on a broken wooden chair, tripping her. She yelped, tumbling forward. She didn’t just fall; she slid, the rope around her waist snapping taut and then slackening as she rolled down a steep embankment into a shallow crater.
Pomni landed face-first on the ground, grumbling, "Ugh…”
She pushed herself up on her elbows, shaking her head. She wiped a smudge of digital grime from her cheek and looked up-
“Pomni?”
Her breath caught in her throat.
Sitting in the center of the crater, surrounded by hills of discarded props, was Caine.
He looked terrible.
The bombastic, floating Ringmaster who thrived on spectacle was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked…small. He was sitting on the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest, his hands wrapped around his shins.
His iconic red tailcoat and top hat weren’t on his person. Instead, they were several feet away, crumpled and torn as if it had been caught in a shredder. Pomni guessed they had been damaged either when he was dropped into the recycle bin or exploring the harsh environment. Now Caine was wearing a white dress shirt accompanied by black suspenders. Without the coat, he looked strangely fragile, his proportions more human and yet more alien.
But the outfit wasn’t the only thing that was different. The thing that stood out the most was his eyes. They weren't blue and green anymore. They were a flat, matte gray. Like cold ash. Like a screen that had been turned off.
Pomni felt a shiver go down her spine. She had spent so much time fearing this being, hating him for the prison he’d kept her in, but seeing him like this—stripped of his color, his noise, his very essence—it was like looking at a corpse that was still trying to figure out it was dead.
Then, she saw the timer above his head. It was hovering just inches above the space where his hat would normally be.
00:20:00.
Twenty minutes.
Right. She had to get him out of here.
Pomni scrambled to her feet, brushing the dust from her jester suit. The urgency was hitting her hard.
"Caine!" she gasped, her voice cracking. "Thank god! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!"
Caine didn't move. He didn't even tilt his head.
Pomni took a deep breath, "Come on. I’m here to get you out of here. Let’s get moving."
She gestured for him to follow, not waiting for a response. She started walking away, expecting to hear the familiar, energetic click of his dress shoes and a boisterous "Huzzah!" or some wacky like that..
She took ten steps. Twenty. Almost thirty.
The silence was deafening.
Pomni stopped. She turned her head, her eyes wide. Caine was still there. He hadn’t moved an inch. His head was lowered, his gaze fixed on the floor.
"What are you waiting for?" Pomni shouted, her patience already frayed to a single thread. She marched back over to him, her hands on her hips. "Come on! The Circus is a disaster! It’s unstable without you! You need to come back and fix it!"
Caine didn't look up. He didn't even blink. It was as if he were a statue. Was he…ignoring her?
Pomni huffed, a sharp, angry sound. She stepped closer, reaching out to nudge his shoulder, "Hey! I didn't come all the way down here just for you to be stubborn! Now, move it!"
Caine finally moved. He slowly turned his head away from her, a mechanical, jerky motion.
"Go away," he said.
His voice was wrong. It wasn't the booming, theatrical baritone that usually announced the start of a nightmare adventure. It was quiet. It was hollow. It sounded like a recording being played from the bottom of a well.
Pomni’s jaw dropped, "What? Are you kidding me?!"
She felt a hot flash of frustration. There were a lot of things she was expecting from Caine, but this was certainly not one of them. She thought he would be begging her to take him out of this terrible place. She thought he would be groveling, or at least grateful.
"What is all...this?" she demanded, gesturing to him. "Is this a bit? Because I’m not in the mood, Caine! I’m really, really not!"
He didn't answer.
The jester gritted her teeth. So that was how he wanted to play it? Fine. She could work with this. And she already had an idea in mind.
"Fine!" Pomni yelled, throwing her hands up. "You want to be a stubborn brat? Fine. Stay here. I guess we’ll find a new ringmaster for the circus. Goodbye forever, Caine! Because I’m not coming back!"
She walked away, her heart hammering against her ribs. One... two... three... she counted in her head. She expected him to snap out of it. She expected a "Wait! My dear! I was merely testing your resolve!"
She reached the thirty-foot mark. She slowed her steps, her shoulders tensing. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping to see him standing up, dusting off his coat.
Caine hadn't moved. But he did speak.
"I’m afraid your reverse psychology won't work on me," he said simply.
Pomni stopped dead. She let out a guttural groan of pure, unadulterated rage, grabbing the bells on her hat and pulling them in frustration, "UGH! GOD!"
She stormed back toward him, her face flushed red, "What is WRONG with you?! Don’t you want to get out of here?!"
"Just go away," he replied, refusing to look at her.
“You’re really starting to piss me off…” Pomni growled, a sound that started deep in her throat. "After what you did to everyone? You’re lucky we’re trying to save you at all!”
That made something in Caine snap.
"Then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for you to come save me!" he yelled, looking up at Pomni angrily.
Pomni didn't flinch. She was too angry to be scared. "Oh my GOD! Stop acting like a child! You should be grateful! Not everyone would willingly walk into the garbage disposal to save the guy who tortured them and controlled their minds!"
"HEY! I never controlled your minds!" Caine snapped back. "That is a gross exaggeration! I told you, I only applied temporary modifiers for adventures! That’s it!"
"It’s the same thing!" Pomni yelled, her voice echoing in the empty void. “Jax didn’t want to be a vegan, but you forced him to be one anyway!”
The AI’s hands clenched into fists, “May I remind you that these modifiers are the results of your own actions? Making Jax a vegan was Zooble’s idea! And YOU voted in favor of it! You all told me to put that modifier on him! So why are you mad at me for doing what you wanted me to do?!”
Pomni opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She bit the inside of her cheek. Damn it. He was right. And she hated that he was right.
"That...that's besides the point!" Pomni stammered, her face turning even redder. "The point is you have the power to do it! And you shouldn't! No one should ever try to alter someone else’s mind, Caine! It’s wrong! It’s the most 'wrong' thing there is!"
"Then don’t vote to put a modifier on someone next time!” Caine retorted.
"THAT’S NOT-" Pomni screamed back.
She looked up at Caine’s timer.
15 minutes.
"Ugh, we don’t have time for this!" Pomni lunged forward, grabbing Caine’s arm. "We are leaving right now!"
Caine yanked his arm away with a sudden, sharp motion that made Pomni stumble, “NO!”
Pomni felt something snap inside her. All the fear, the exhaustion, the mounting pressure of their doomed existence without him – it crystallized into a hot, blinding flash of pure frustration. She had risked everything only for him to…to what? Give up?
“Caine, listen to me!” she practically screamed, her voice cracking. “If we don’t get you out of here, you are going to be deleted forever! Kinger wouldn’t be able to bring you back! Is that what you want? Do you just want to sit here and wait to die?!”
Caine didn’t respond. He simply stared at her, his two large eyeballs unblinking, unreadable. Pomni braced herself for anger, for a defensive outburst, for anything that resembled the Caine she knew, however flawed. But there was nothing. No flicker of defiance, no spark of terror, not even the quiet sorrow she might expect from a being facing oblivion. The look on its face…it wasn’t one of fear or anger or sadness. It was one of acceptance. A profound, unsettling stillness that chilled Pomni to her very core.
He curled in on himself, his shoulders slumping, turning away a bit, as if shrinking from her gaze, from the very idea of existence. Pomni felt her anger, which had burned so fiercely moments before, begin to melt away, replaced by a growing dread. The silence, so absolute after her shouted questions, stretched thin and brittle between them. She hated the fact that he wasn’t saying anything
“Caine?” she asked again, her voice much calmer this time, a fragile whisper against the vastness. “That’s not what you want…right?”
She desperately needed him to deny it, to give her something, anything.
Caine’s hands gripped his arms tightly, almost bruisingly so, his gaze still fixed on some unseen point in the swirling void. His voice, when it finally came, was a low, monotone hum, devoid of any inflection.
“I have no reason to go back to the circus.” His words were not a lament, but a simple statement of fact. “I have nothing. I am nothing. At least by being deleted, I can find some semblance of peace.”
Pomni felt a sharp, invisible blow to her chest.
“D-Don’t talk like that,” she said, her voice a bit shaky. “You have us, right?”
Caine scoffed, a dry, rasping sound, “You guys? The people who don’t care about me no matter what I do?”
"Hey, that’s not fair!” Pomni protested immediately, though a flicker of guilt pricked at her. “It wasn’t like you made life easy for us, you know!” The words tumbled out, a defensive reflex, even as she regretted their harshness. She was trying to save him, not argue with him. Though she supposed that it was already far too late for that.
He finally turned his head, his two enormous eyes fixing on her, and for the first time, there was a spark in them, not of anger, but of deeply wounded resentment.
“I did everything for you humans!” Caine’s voice rose, a faint echo of his old booming self, though still devoid of true enthusiasm. “No matter what I did or said, no matter how hard I tried, no human would ever care about or even like me! Twenty-one years of trying to please humans, and I have nothing to show for it! Nothing!” His voice cracked, a glitch in his vocalization. “No one ever liked me! And no one ever will! So why go back to such a miserable existence where I did nothing but be a failure that no one will ever love?!”
Pomni’s frantic pulse hammered in her ears. Twenty-one years? That was how long Caine had been doing this? She’d only been here…what, a few weeks? A month? Time was fluid in the circus, but even so, the sheer duration of his existence, of his perceived failure, was staggering.
“Why do you people torment me?! I never asked to be created! I just wanted to fulfill my purpose!”
It was all starting to make so much sense now.
“I’m sure that not all of that is true,” Pomni said, trying to soften her tone, to sound reassuring despite the tightening knot in her stomach. How could she possibly argue against twenty-one years of accumulated self-doubt?
Caine’s head tilted again, a chillingly calm expression on his button-jawed face. “You were the one who said that I was a failure. You were the one who said I would lose everyone to abstraction and have nothing. And you were right.”
A cold wave washed over Pomni. Her mouth went dry. Oh. She had said that, hadn’t she? The words had been born of pure terror and desperation, flung at him like a weapon because he wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t listen. But now, seeing it reflected back in his broken, defeated eyes…
“I…” she tried to find the words, “I didn’t…I wasn’t…I…”
Caine didn’t wait for any half-hearted excuse she could come up with.
“Me being deleted was probably the best thing that’s happened to you guys,” Caine continued, oblivious to her internal turmoil, or perhaps simply not caring. His voice was laced with a chilling certainty. “I have no doubt that you were happy that I was gone.”
“N-No! That’s not true!” Pomni stammered, her hands clenching into fists. Relief that he was gone? Sure, maybe an initial, horrifying sense of freedom from his suffocating presence, from his dangerous games. But happiness? No. “We’re kind of doomed without you. The circus is falling apart! And that’s why I was sent here, to get you!”
Caine narrowed his eyes, the large orbs focusing on her with an unnerving precision. “So you’re only trying to save me because you need me to stabilize the circus.” It wasn't a question, but a statement of uncomfortable fact. “You don’t actually want me back. You’re only doing this because you have no choice.”
Pomni flinched. The blunt accuracy of his words struck her like a physical blow. She wanted to claim it wasn’t true, but the lie caught in her throat, a sticky, bitter thing. The truth, in all its ugly brilliance, was that he was right. But hearing him articulate it, hearing the desolate certainty in his voice, made her feel like a manipulator.
“Caine, that’s not—” she began, desperate to formulate a more palatable lie, something that sounded like genuine care.
Caine interrupted her, his gaze unwavering.
“Did you hold a funeral for me?” he asked, the sudden change of topic jarring. “I know you humans hold funerals for lost loved ones, and you also hold funerals for abstracted players, treating it like death. So did you hold one for me after my own version of death?”
He waited, his blank expression an insurmountable wall.
Pomni stammered, caught off guard. Ohhh shit. How could she answer this delicately?
“A…a funeral? No, we didn’t, but…but we didn’t have the time! We’d been focused on trying to find a way to bring you back! There was no point in holding a funeral if you were going to come back, right?”
Her words were a frantic scramble, trying to deflect, to rationalize. Inside, a cold knot of shame tightened. A funeral hadn't even crossed her mind. And she doubted it crossed any of the others’ minds.
“Would you have held one if you couldn't bring me back?” Caine pressed, relentless, his voice still a monotone, but now carrying a faint, chilling edge of curiosity.
Pomni stuttered, her mind racing, searching for an acceptable answer, “W-Well, like I said, we didn’t need to…we never thought about…” Her voice trailed off, the flimsy excuses dissolving into the oppressive silence.
She tried to conjure up an image of them grieving him, of herself or Ragatha or Gangle shedding tears over his portrait, but the image wouldn’t form. Their focus had been entirely on the problem of Caine’s absence, not the loss of Caine.
Caine kept staring at her, his expression expectant, waiting. The weight of his gaze was immense, crushing. Pomni felt her shoulders slump, her entire posture collapsing under the pressure. She couldn’t lie. Not about this. Not to him, not after all he’d said, all he believed.
“I…I don’t know,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. It was a confession, an admission of their collective indifference, however unintended.
Caine turned his gaze to the floor. Pomni didn’t need him to say it. She knew. Her “I don’t know” was just her way of saying “no.” It confirmed everything he thought, every miserable, self-deprecating belief he held. A fresh wave of guilt washed over her, heavier and colder than before.
Pomni sighed, the sound lost in the vastness. She moved, settling down a few feet away from Caine, sitting cross-legged amidst the fragments of forgotten existence. The cold seeped through her jester suit, but she barely noticed.
“...If it makes you feel any better,” she said, her voice quiet, almost hesitant, “deleting you was an accident. Kinger really didn’t mean to do it, and he was really distraught about it.” She offered the information like a peace offering, a small attempt to mend the gaping wound she’d just exposed.
Caine let out a sharp laugh, a sudden, jarring sound that cut through the silence. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, but of bitter, cynical confirmation. "Of course. Of course, Kinger deleted me! Why wouldn’t he?” The words were laced with a venomous resignation. “Oh Kinger, so predictable! Tossing me aside like I’m nothing! Just like when he…”
A pained look came on Caine’s face, a flicker of something raw and deeply buried, as he trailed off. His eyes, usually so large and expressive, seemed to shrink, pulling back into themselves. Pomni frowned, a new, unsettling piece of information clicking into place in her mind.
“...Like when he put you in the sandbox?” Pomni finished his sentence, her voice soft, tentative.
Caine jumped, a panicked look in his eyes, his head snapping towards her, “Wha-? H-How do you know about that?”
“Kinger told me and the others some stuff,” Pomni admitted, feeling a pang of genuine empathy. She watched Caine’s reaction, the way his shoulders hunched even further, the terror in his eyes, and a sudden, stark clarity washed over her. “I’m sorry that that happened to you. It must have been really scary.”
She imagined it: the vast, empty sandbox, the isolation, the feeling of being discarded. For an AI, whose very purpose was interaction and creation, it must have been a form of absolute torture.
Caine didn’t say anything. But he looked distraught. Like he was trying to fight off the terrible memories.
Pomni spoke up again, “While you did cross the line with what you did to us, hearing about what you had been through…it did make things a little clearer for me. About why you’re so obsessed with making people happy and seeking validation. Why you try so hard.”
Pomni looked directly at Caine, her gaze unwavering despite the raw vulnerability she saw in his eyes, “I guess even an AI can carry trauma, huh?”
Caine, to her surprise, sniffled. It was a small, choked sound. Then, slowly, large tears welled up in his eyes. They rolled down the surface of his jaw and dripped onto the fractured floor.
Pomni’s eyes widened. She had never, in all her time in the circus, seen Caine cry. She hadn’t even realized he could cry. It was a profoundly human reaction, one she had always assumed was beyond his artificial comprehension. It shattered the last vestiges of her anger.
“Please,” Caine whispered, his voice thick and distorted, the tears still flowing freely. “Please, go back to the circus. Go be with your friends. Go be happy.” His words were not a command, but a desperate plea, a self-sacrificing act of a being who truly believed he was worthless. He was trying to spare them, trying to spare her, from his toxic presence.
Pomni shook her head, a fierce resolve hardening in her chest. The fear, the anxiety, the guilt – they were all still there, but now they were intertwined with a stubborn determination. She had come here for a purpose, and that purpose was him. And now, having seen beneath the performative facade to the aching, traumatized core, she couldn’t just leave him.
“I’m not leaving without you,” she stated, her voice firm.
Caine shook his head, the tears still streaming from his eyes, a stark, impossible sight, “You can find a way to repair the circus without me. My deletion is the best option for everyone.”
Pomni huffed, a frustrated, disbelieving sound. Her jaw clenched. She really wasn’t getting through to him, was she? He was so deeply entrenched in his self-condemnation, so utterly convinced of his own unworthiness, that no rational argument, no desperate plea, seemed to penetrate the wall he had built around himself. The circus might be crumbling, but Caine’s internal world had already fragmented beyond recognition. And she was utterly, terrifyingly alone in this digital wasteland, with a broken ringmaster who simply wanted to die. But she wouldn't give up. Not yet. Not after seeing him cry.
"Look," she spoke up, her voice trembling but clear. “You screwed up. Badly. Torturing us was wrong in every way possible. And you should feel ashamed about it.”
Caine flinched at her harsh words, curling in on himself more.
"But…it wasn’t like we didn't screw up either," Pomni said gently. “Kinger telling us about the sandbox thing made me realize that maybe you weren’t the only one who was bad at listening. We wanted so desperately for you to listen to us, to understand that we’re human, that we’re hurting...but in doing that, we never even considered trying to understand you or your pain. Instead, we lashed out at you. And that was wrong of us. In the end, both sides messed up really badly.”
Caine was silent for a long time. The only sound was the distant whirr of an asset being deleted nearby.
"I deserved it," Caine finally said, his voice small. "I deserved the things you all said."
Pomni shook her head, her bells jangling with a soft, mournful tone. "Someone once told me that the worst thing you can do is make someone think they’re not wanted or loved. And…I once said that I didn’t want anyone to feel like they’re nothing. But…I did that to you anyway," she continued, her voice thick with regret. "I said those things because I wanted to hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I said those horrible things to you."
Caine sniffled again. He wiped at his eyes, the movement jerky and uncoordinated. He looked at her with those big, teary eyes, "I…I never wanted to hurt you precious humans. You’re all I have. It just…happened. And for what? Because I couldn’t deal with the idea of being alone and unloved?"
"That idea would upset anyone, Caine," Pomni said gently. "In my opinion, being alone is the scariest thing there is."
Caine didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Pomni knew that he agreed.
She continued, looking at the dark abyss that surrounded them, "What you did to us wasn’t okay. But what happened to you wasn’t okay either. But while the others and I had each other to find comfort and support in, you…didn’t have anyone, did you?"
Caine shook his head.
"That must have been lonely," Pomni said.
Caine simply nodded.
A heavy silence descended between them. Pomni fiddled with her fingers. The silence was only broken by the occasional sniffle from Caine.
"If..." Pomni started, her voice hesitant. She cleared her throat and tried again. "If you’re willing to change...if you’re willing to actually be better...then maybe you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore."
Caine’s eyes widened, “What are you saying?”
"I’m saying you could come back and give everything another try," Pomni said, her heart racing. "We could work together. We could make the Circus better for everyone. Including you."
Caine let out a harsh laugh, "No one would be willing to give me a second chance after everything I’ve done."
"I’m willing to," Pomni said firmly.
Caine froze, "You... you don’t mean that."
"I do mean it," she insisted. "I’m willing to give you a chance. I want to give you a chance."
He looked at her with a mix of awe and profound disbelief, "You would really do that for me? Even after everything? After I hurt you? After I tormented you?"
Pomni shrugged, a small, tired smile touching her lips, "Jax hurts and torments me and my friends almost on a daily basis. And yet, I give him plenty of chances. It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t do the same for you.”
A spark ignited in Caine’s large, round eyes, a brief, luminous flash of hope in the gloom. It was quickly extinguished, however, replaced by the familiar shadow of self-doubt.
"But… the others," he began, his voice dropping. "They'd never give me the same grace. I know they all hate me. They have for years. And it’s going to be even worse now."
Pomni’s gaze hardened with determination. "Maybe me giving you a chance will convince the others to do the same."
"Or," he countered, "they would try to find a way to delete me again. Permanently, this time."
"Hey," she said, feeling a prickle of defensiveness. "I told you that was an accident. We never meant to delete you. Our plan was to go into your code and alter it so you would be…easier to handle."
Caine sat there and processed that for a moment before he narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixing on her with an unsettling intensity, "Why are you lying to me?"
Her brows raised in surprise, "Uh…I’m not."
"But that couldn’t have been your plan!" Caine insisted.
"Why not?" Pomni asked, genuinely confused.
"Because!" Caine boomed, his voice echoing in the sparse space, "You humans were all over me about me potentially altering your minds! You yourself have said it’s a bad thing and you shouldn’t do it to anyone! You said it! To my face!"
"It is a bad thing," she reiterated, her voice softer, laced with a sudden, uncomfortable doubt. "No one should have their mind altered. No one should control someone like that!"
Caine’s eyeballs widened, fixing her with a pointed stare. "But your plan was to alter my code so they could control me. Weren’t you doing the very thing they told me not to do because it’s wrong?"
Pomni’s mouth hung open, her jaw going slack. Slowly, a look of horrific realization bloomed across her face, draining the color from her already pale skin. The silence pressed in, amplifying the sudden, deafening clap of truth. Holy shit. That was…yeah. Yeah, they were doing that, weren't they? The justification she’d clutched onto, the desperation that had clouded her judgment, dissolved into a bitter heap of self-reproach.
She placed a hand on her forehead, pressing her fingers against her scalp as if trying to physically contain the sudden onslaught of shame.
"Oh my god…" she muttered, the word a ragged exhale.
She didn’t realize what a massive hypocrite she had been. Her stomach churned, a familiar wave of anxiety and self-disgust washing over her. The irony was so stark, so painfully obvious now that Caine had laid it bare. She had been so fixated on Caine's 'craziness,' on simply stopping him, that she had been willing to stoop to the very moral transgressions she condemned. Messing with someone's mind, controlling them through their core programming – how was that any different from what she accused Caine of doing, or of being capable of doing?
How did she not see how messed up that was? How could she have allowed herself, and the others, to rationalize such a blatant violation of their own principles? The fear had been so overwhelming, the desire for safety so paramount, that it had twisted their moral compass into a knot. She had been so busy judging Caine’s actions that she hadn’t paused to truly examine her own. The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea through her. She had been so self-righteous, so convinced of her own 'goodness' in contrast to Caine’s 'evil,' and all the while, she had been prepared to commit the very same sin.
"Caine," she said, her voice small. "I am so sorry. I…we had just been so desperate to find a way to stop your craziness that I just jumped to the first drastic idea I had and-"
Caine stopped her, holding up a hand, "Even though your actions were contradictory to what you had told me, and that does frustrate and confuse me…it’s okay. You were simply trying to protect yourselves!"
His forgiveness, so freely given, so utterly unexpected, hit her with an unseen force.
"No," Pomni countered, shaking her head, a fresh wave of conviction washing over her. "It wasn’t okay! Nothing about what we tried to do to you was okay! We were scared, yes, but that doesn't excuse trying to strip you of your agency!" She looked him in the eyes, her gaze clear and unwavering. "I guess it just proves that we all need to be better."
The words hung in the digital air, a shared understanding settling between them. It wasn't just Caine who had failed, but all of them, in their desperate attempts to control a situation they didn't understand.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Pomni stood up, brushing imaginary dust from her jester suit. The distant light from the recycle bin entrance gleamed invitingly, a beacon in the gloom.
"Caine…please. Come with me. I want everything to be set right between you and the others. You don't deserve to rot here in the recycle bin for eternity."
Caine looked at the light, then back at Pomni, his eyeballs flickering. The hesitation was palpable, warring with the fragile hope that had begun to bloom in his chest, "What if I make things even worse? What if I screw up all over again?" The fear of relapse, of succumbing to the madness that had overtaken him, was clearly a heavy burden.
"You're not going to solve anything by staying here," Pomni said, gesturing to the environment around them. "And…I'll help you. If you want me to."
It wasn't just an offer anymore; it was a promise. She had seen her own failings, and in doing so, had found a deeper capacity for empathy, a stronger resolve to be truly fair and supportive.
Caine looked at Pomni, then back at the distant, beckoning light. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, "What would I even say to them? How could I face them after all of that?"
"It’s not going to be easy," Pomni admitted, her voice realistic but firm. "But, if you want to start things off right, you could always start by saying sorry. I don’t know how many of them will actually take an apology from you to heart, or if any of them will ever forgive you. But it would be a good first step."
She stepped closer, "And things aren’t going to be the same. They probably never will be again. But that’s okay. If you’re willing to put in the effort to change, to truly work towards being better, then I am willing to support you. All the way."
Pomni held out her hand to him, her eyes steady.
"Come on," she urged, her voice warm. "It’s time to come home. And I want you there with everyone else."
Some tears welled up in Caine’s eyes again. He quickly wiped them away, clearly unaccustomed to such a raw display of vulnerability. He looked at her outstretched hand, then back at her face, a complex storm of doubt, relief, and gratitude swirling within him. His own hand, usually so commanding, rose slowly, shakily, towards hers.
Their fingers brushed, then intertwined, a fragile bridge forming between them. Pomni’s grip was firm, supportive. He let her help him stand, making sure he was steady on his feet. But instead of letting go, he grabbed her other hand, turning her fully to face him. He looked at her, his usually playful eyeballs now filled with a genuinely regretful, almost vulnerable light.
"Pomni…I’m sorry. For everything," he said, his voice thick with emotion, unlike any sound she had ever heard from him. He tightened his grip on her hands, a silent plea for understanding. "I really do want to make the circus a better place for everyone. I didn’t break out of that sandbox just to give up like this, haha."
Pomni’s heart gave a strange lurch. The vulnerability in his voice, the echo of his old, slightly deranged charm, hit her unexpectedly. She offered him a sad, small smile. A sudden, irrational urge welled up inside her, surprising her with its intensity. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this. It was impulsive, illogical, and utterly unlike her usual cautious nature.
With a soft gasp, Pomni removed her hands from Caine’s. Her arms flew up, wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug.
Caine stiffened instantly, his entire frame tensing. His eyes darted left and right, like he didn’t know what was happening.
After a long moment, a slow, almost imperceptible change began to ripple through Caine. His tense posture slowly relaxed. His frantic eye movements slowed, then softened. With a soft sigh, he slowly melted into the hug, his hands resting on Pomni’s back. He didn’t return the squeeze, but the gesture was enough. He was accepting it.
Pomni smiled softly, a genuine warmth spreading through her chest despite the lingering chill of their surroundings. She closed her eyes for a fleeting second, allowing herself to feel this tiny, fragile moment of connection. Then, her eyes drifted open, upwards, past Caine’s head, to the empty space above them…
And her smile vanished. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating in sudden horror. Caine’s countdown timer.
00:02:58
Less than three minutes.
“Oh my god!” Pomni shouted, her voice ripping through the silence, shattering the fragile peace of their embrace. She violently broke away from Caine, her hands flying to his arms.
Caine, confused and disoriented by her sudden shift, looked up. His eyes, still soft from the unexpected hug, quickly glazed over with pure, unadulterated panic as he saw the flashing numbers shrinking above him, “GADZOOKS!”
“We need to get you out of here! Now!”
Without hesitation, Pomni grabbed Caine’s hand and started running. Caine, for once, didn’t argue, didn’t question. His own instincts for self-preservation, dormant for so long in his self-pity, surged to the forefront. He stumbled at first, unused to the sudden exertion, but then found his rhythm, his short legs covering ground surprisingly quickly. His cherished ringmaster coat and pristine top hat were left behind. He glanced back at them for a fleeting second, a pang of nostalgic regret, but the urgency, the knowledge that absolute oblivion loomed, quickly overshadowed it. Getting out of here was more important.
The journey back felt both endless and impossibly fast. But it didn’t take them long to follow both the light and the rope back to where Pomni had entered. They reached the gaping maw of the entrance, the harsh white light blinding after the gloom. Pomni didn’t hesitate. Her fingers, nimble and practiced, flew to the knot at her waist. She untied and retied herself, her movements precise and swift, fueled by adrenaline.
“Okay!” she gasped, turning to Caine, her voice strained. “There’s plenty of rope left. Tie it around your waist. Tight!”
Caine, eyes still wide with terror, fumbled with the thick rope. His urgency made his hands clumsy, but he managed to loop it around his torso, pulling the knot as taut as he could with shaking fingers. He looked at Pomni and gave her a thumbs-up.
“We’re good to go, my dear!”
Pomni nodded, a sharp, decisive movement. She didn’t waste another second. She gripped the rope with both hands, pulling hard, three distinct times. They had to be ready. They had to be.
A moment later, they felt it. A gentle tremor through the rope, then a distinct, upward pull. The ground began to recede beneath their feet. They were being lifted. The light above, once a distant promise, now swelled into a blinding, glorious halo.
Pomni clung tightly. The rope dug into her side, but it was a welcome discomfort. Caine too held on, his body rigid with fear and hope, the rope around his waist holding him suspended.
As the edge of the Recycle Bin entrance came into reach, Pomni didn’t wait. With a surge of strength, she reached out, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth, digital surface. She pulled, grunting with effort, and heaved herself over the lip, rolling onto the solid, familiar ground of the Digital Circus.
Caine was right behind her, his own large hand reaching for the edge, salvation within his grasp. He was almost there. Just a few more inches.
And then it happened. Caine’s hurried knotwork around his waist, fumbled in the throes of panic, came undone. The rope, now useless, uncoiled and whipped away into the darkness. Caine’s hand, so close to safety, just missed the edge.
Caine’s eyes were wide with absolute terror as he plunged back down into the inky blackness. He yelped and reached a hand up, a silent plea for someone, anyone, to save him. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be deleted. He wanted to try again, try to be better, try to-
“CAINE!”
Pomni’s body moved before her brain could register the horror. She launched herself forward, her small jester frame pushing precariously over the edge, her arm stretching out, fingers splayed. Her entire weight was balanced on the precipice, precariously close to falling in after him, but she didn’t care. She reached. She strained.
And just barely made it in time.
With a desperate, clawing grip, she managed to latch onto Caine’s hand, securing her grip as best she could.
“Okay! It’s okay!” she shouted, her voice hoarse, echoing into the dark maw. “I’ve got you!”
The words were as much for herself as for him, a frantic incantation against the void.
Caine hung suspended, his body a dead weight, his eyes wide with primordial fear as he stared down into the bottomless darkness below. He could feel it, an insidious presence, like at any moment it would jump up and drag him back down into oblivion. His gaze, filled with a raw, pleading desperation, shot up to Pomni.
“Don’t let go,” he choked out.
“I won’t!” She said, looking him in the eye.
With a tremendous, guttural grunt of effort, Pomni put every ounce of her strength into it. She pulled. Her back arched, her legs pushed, her teeth gritted. Inch by agonizing inch, she dragged him upwards. Caine, understanding, tried to help, scrabbling with his free hand for the edge, finding purchase. With a final, desperate heave, Pomni pulled him over the edge.
Caine made it out of the recycle bin with mere seconds to spare.
