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When Magnus finds Camille cheating on him, he does what he does best. He runs.
He doesn’t know where he’s going when he storms out of the apartment, his stuff thrown haphazardly into a duffle bag, but he knows he can’t stay there any longer. He’s considering buying the first flight he can find out of New Manchester when he stumbles across a worn poster. It’s torn at the edges and stained from rain, but the words are still bright, if slightly blurred, and it catches Magnus’ attention.
Got An Interesting Talent?
Audition for the Space Circus!
Competitive salary with free room and board.
Experiences you won’t find anywhere else!
Call the number below for more information.
Magnus has never been to space despite his continuous travels. At twenty-three he’s seen almost every part of the earth, but something (usually money) always kept him from the space cruises.
Now he pauses, runs a finger along the poster, feeling the torn edges and wondering if they’re still looking for performers.
He’s not sure anywhere is far enough away from Camille, but space is probably his best bet. He programs the number into his phone and makes the call.
A day later Magnus takes the bullet train to Old London to audition. The entirety of his belongings, nothing more than the duffle bag he’d packed when he left the apartment. He knows that even if he doesn’t get into the Space Circus, he’s not going back. There’s nothing left for him in New Manchester.
But he does get in. The interviewers, long-time performers and high-ups in the lucrative industry, appreciate his ability to throw flaming batons while dancing around the room to an upbeat song, not missing a step.
He’d never put his talents together in that way, but he’d picked up juggling when he was twelve and living in New New York, an entirely man-made island built over where the state had sunk into the sea nearly a century ago. Then, at fifteen, he’d joined a dancing group for a year while visiting Spain. He’d continued learning on his own ever since.
A week of practice was all it took for him to put together a routine impressive enough to get him a place in the circus aboard the Edom Spacecraft. It makes him wonder if they’re truly desperate of if he’s more talented than he believed, and he chooses to think it’s a combination of the two.
It only took another day after auditions before Magnus had signed all of the paperwork and read all about Edom. It was one of the most popular space crafts in the Space Circus industry. Edom was one of the many crafts that provided entertainment filled cruises to the moon and back, each trip lasting five weeks in totality. Magnus would be preforming five days a week for four weeks out of the cruise with the rest of the circus, having two days off as well as the week for which they were on the moon.
It’s a surreal experience being loaded into a pod ship with another new recruit, the pod set on an automatic course for Edom. They’re joining a week late, the craft already a week into its route the moon, but the hiring managers had been desperate for more performers. Something about someone getting horribly motion sick and having to leave, throwing the circus into disarray.
Magnus takes a moment to study the inky blackness of space as they cross out of Earth’s atmosphere, the stars sparkling in the distance, the planet getting gradually smaller below them. He thinks perhaps he should feel sad to leave it behind, all of the people on earth, all of the places he’s been, all of the memories he’s made. He mostly feels excited and a little nervous. There will be people on Edom- only around three thousand compared to earth’s nine million- and there will be chances to make new memories. He thinks he might miss the greenery, the plant life and the scenery, but it’s been replaced with the sight of space and he can’t find himself to be disappointed in that.
There was never much keeping him on earth anyways. The thought itself makes him a bit sad so, rather than focusing on that, Magnus turns to the man beside him.
He looks barely old enough for space travel, meaning he’s at least seventeen. His hair is cropped short and his lips are pursed tightly together. He could be a statue for how much he moves.
Magnus sticks out a hand, the black polish on his nails chipped away from the fresh application he’d done before the audition. “Magnus Bane.”
The kid studies him for a moment with a cool gaze before reluctantly shaking the proffered hand, his grip solid. “Raphael Santiago.”
He has a slight Spanish accent that Magnus picks up on. “What’s your act?”
A hint of a smirk crosses Raphael’s lips. “I’m a knife thrower.”
Magnus raises an eyebrow. “Are you good?”
“I haven’t killed anyone yet,” Raphael says dryly. “What do you do?”
“I dance and throw fire.” Which, now that Magnus thinks about it, is probably the coolest profession he’s ever had. And it’s in space. It’ll certainly diversify his already staggered résumé.
Raphael glances at his hands. “Have you ever burnt yourself?”
Magnus snorts at the question, turning his hands over to show his palms. A scar crosses the palm of his right hand, but they’re free of burns. “I use cold fire, just in case. It’s safer.”
“Boring,” Raphael mutters, but there’s a spark in his eye that suggests he’s interested.
They make easy conversation the rest of the ride, blatantly avoiding any talk of their pasts. It becomes abundantly clear to Magnus that he’s not the only one running away from something.
When their pod lands in the hangar of the spacecraft, a woman with dark skin a kind smile greets them at the entrance. “Hi, welcome to Edom! I’m Catarina, but everyone calls me Cat. I’ll be working with you in the circus. I’m supposed to show you to your rooms and then to the dining hall so you can get acquainted with everyone. Actual training won’t start till tomorrow.”
She shakes Raphael’s hand and then Magnus’ as they introduce themselves. She hands them each a packet. “It has a map of the craft, the keys to your rooms and the staff hallways, and some additional information.”
She leads them down the hall, “It looks complicated at first, but you get the hang of it pretty fast. This is one of the main halls.” Magnus takes in every bit of it, admiring the long window that seems to run along the entire side of the ship, displaying the star-speckled sky. He can make out the moon in the distance. “They told me you’re a knife thrower. And Magnus, I heard you’re a fire baton-twirler.”
“That sounds correct,” Magnus says, refocusing on the woman leading them, “though I’ve never heard it called that. What do you do?”
Catarina grins back at him, dark eyes alight with joy. “You probably noticed the craft is gravity controlled?”
“I imagine people would be less interested in circus stunts if gravity wasn’t an issue,” Magnus muses.
She nods as she swipes her keycard over a lock and pulls open a heavy silver door. The hall behind it is all one shade of gray and Magnus has to assume it’s one of the staff halls. “Exactly. Even more so for aerial acts.”
“You do aerial?”
“Silks and trapeze,” she confirms with a bit of a smile. “I’m starting to learn lyra now.”
Magnus doesn’t know what most of those words mean but he nods along as if he does before asking, “How long have you been here?”
A flicker of a shadow pass over Catarina’s face and her next words are spoken softly, “Almost two years. And now? I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Literally, I guess. But we’re here! Raphael, this is your room. Magnus, yours is the one across the hall.” She pointed to the corresponding doors. “You can leave your things here and we’ll head for the dining hall.”
Magnus took the time to set his single duffle bag on the bed in the center of the room. The bedroom isn’t large by any means, but it’s comfortable looking. It’s all shades of gray, remarkably similar to the hall but there’s a large window against the wall that shows the space unfolding around the ship. The bed is soft enough and there’s a dresser and a nightstand with a lamp. Magnus thinks it will make a decent living space.
“I know it’s not much,” Catarina says from the door. “But we get free meals and access to all ship activities as well.”
“It’s fine,” Magnus says as he joins her in the hall. Raphael is there as well, leaning against his door. “Not the worst place I’ve lived.”
“Seconded,” Raphael mutters, running a hand through his hair.
Catarina nods like she understands too well. Magnus supposes people with nice upbringings don’t run off to join the space circus. “Let’s get to the dining hall. I’ll introduce you to some more of the circus members.”
The dining hall is extravagant and filled to the brim. Soft, upbeat music plays over the speakers but it’s barely audible under the drone of conversation. Most of the occupants look like they make more in a day than Magnus has made in his entire life. They’re dressed in extravagant fashions, their hair styled perfectly. Although, some of them are wearing swimsuits and appear to be damp which makes Magnus wonder if the ship has a pool. He’s sure they’re all paying guests. People rich enough to afford space cruises.
There are several options for food which Catarina points out, informing them which booth has what kind of food. “You can get anything you want, but let me introduce you first.”
She leads them through the throngs of people to a table occupied by a large group. To Magnus’ relief, most of them are dressed fairly casually like himself. They don’t appear to be overly concerned with their looks. Catarina stops at the head of it and taps the man sitting closest on the shoulder. “Ragnor, this is Magnus and Raphael, they’re the new recruits.”
Ragnor studies them with a stone expression before nodding. When he speaks it’s with a distinctly British accent. “Welcome to Edom. Has Cat told you how the dining hall works?” He stands and places a kiss to Catarina’s cheek.
“Of course I did. I just wanted to bring them over before they got food.”
With introductions out of the way, Magnus splits off from Catarina and Raphael to get Asian food while they head for the Italian booth. Ragnor accompanies Magnus, explaining that while the circus is technically run by a highly paid official in charge of the entertainment on Edom it’s handled mostly by him and Catarina for all intents and purposes.
“I’ve been here five years,” Ragnor says as they fill their trays with a selection of mouth-watering food. “Best years of my life.”
“Catarina said something similar,” Magnus remembers “You really enjoy it?”
Ragnor nods. “There wasn’t much left on Earth for me. These people have become my family. You’ll understand soon.”
Family. Magnus hasn’t had anyone to associate with the word in longer than he cares to think about. It causes a pang of longing in his chest.
“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with not being invested in the circus outside of training hours, you’re free to enjoy the craft and mingle with the cruise-goers, many people do. But a lot of us also tend to stick together, look out for each other. We’re the ones that are still here cruise after cruise.”
The idea of having someone, multiple people even, who will look out for him feels foreign. He’s always looked out for those around him, the girls and boys he’d dated, but rarely did they return the favor. He desperately hoped what Ragnor was saying was true. “And what’s your act?”
“I help with a bit of everything, but my most interesting act is aerial stunts. Catarina and I do a few routines together.”
“I look forward to seeing that.”
“Everyone is fun to watch,” Ragnor says dismissively as they make their way back to the table, curving around the groups of people. “But you get used to it.”
Magnus blinks. “To being around ridiculously talented people?”
Ragnor smirks back at him, “To being around freaks. Oh, don’t look so offended, we’ve all made peace with it. I recommend you do the same- you'll be a lot happier here.”
He quietly sits down, contemplating Ragnor’s words. He supposes he’s never been normal , what could it hurt to try on another label? Everyone did seem to be happy with their uniqueness.
His first day of training is almost overwhelming. It goes by in a blur of names and faces and helping the others with their acts. Cat helps him with his dance, figuring out the parameters of it on the stage they’ll be using. He has to change a few steps, but it remains largely the same.
Somewhere near the end of practice Magnus finds himself watching Raphael practice, throwing knives at a spinning board around the cutout of a human body. His aim is perfect, each blade embedding into the board only an inch from the cutout.
“Wow! You know this is my least favorite act to participate in, but at least it looks like you won’t be accidentally slicing me up!”
Magnus and Raphael turn at the sound of a new voice. Simon, one of the other members he’d been introduced to earlier, is at Raphael’s side. He looks less like a circus performer and more like an accountant in Magnus’ opinion. Then again, none of them really look how he imagined circus performers would. Certainly none of them wear clown makeup- thank goodness.
“Only if you get on my nerves,” Raphael says in a way that Magnus thinks is sarcastic, but he doesn’t know Raphael well enough to be sure.
Simon holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Message received! Want to practice with a real body?”
Raphael nods and Magnus watches as he removes the cutout, helping Simon onto the board, latching the holds in place.
Magnus feels his stomach twist in sympathy when the board begins to turn. He can’t imagine it’s fun to be up there. Still, Simon looks relatively calm. Raphael’s face is scrunched in careful concentration as the board begins its second rotation.
Then Raphael lifts his hand and throws five blades in rapid succession. They land on either side of Simon’s head, one under each armpit, the last between his legs. Raphael goes to stop the board’s spinning while Magnus whistles lowly. “Impressive.”
“That’s always terrifying,” Simon mutters as he hops down. “But I’m unscathed so not bad.”
“Magnus!” Ragnor calls out for him. Magnus turns and sees him standing beside a lithe brunette. Ragnor waves him over. “Help me hold this.”
It’s a pole, long enough that when he picks up the other side, it puts a difference of at least fifteen feet between him and Ragnor.
“Don’t drop it,” the brunette warns before climbing onto it and standing precariously on the thin bit of metal. She doesn’t weigh enough to make it truly heavy, but Magnus steadies his posture to ensure he won’t drop it. He’d hate to send a fellow performer to the medics on his first day.
“Lift it to your chest,” Ragnor calls. Together they lift the pole. The brunette barely moves despite the change. Magnus watches as she takes several easy steps before jumping into a front flip, grabbing the pole with her hands to spin around it before righting herself.
“Dot, watch your posture,” Catarina instructs as she comes to stand by Magnus’ side. Dot nods in response, clearly focusing on her routine and balance, before jumping into a cartwheel. Catarina turns to Magnus. “How’s your first day going so far?”
Magnus doesn’t take his eyes off Dot, carefully holding the pole as still as possible. “Everyone is amazing to watch.”
“Years of training. You’re not so bad yourself,” Catarina says, patting him on the shoulder. “If you can help out with Dot’s act regularly, we’d really appreciate it.”
“Of course, I’ll help however I can.”
“Great, thanks. Let me know if you need anything.” She moves away as Dot jumps off the bar, doing a backflip before landing on the floor.
Magnus lowers the pole as she makes her way to him. She looks friendlier than when she had first approached him. “Thanks for not dropping me.”
“Of course.”
“You’re the new guy, right? Magnus or Raphael?”
He holds out a hand. “Magnus.”
Dot shakes it, looking him over, “I think you’ll fit in well here.”
He wonders if she’s calling him a freak, but he looks over the performers, takes in the smiles and looks of concentration and thinks being a freak might not be so bad if it comes with friends.