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Jax didn’t see anyone for days.
This didn’t bother him, and certainly didn’t bother the rest of the cast, who were likely getting torn up on some mindless galivant across the digital plane. Without him, though, Caine may have finally treated them to a relaxed, lame adventure without his complaining. Even Zooble seemed to be content with whatever the AI chose. Caine didn’t come crooning “Daisy Bell” a single time.
That didn’t bother him either, but it did knock at the back of his mind. He’d be doing something random -trapping Ragatha’s door, maybe- and find himself humming it, trying to pick up on the harmonies Pomni had managed to detect so effortlessly. Every time he caught himself doing this, he’d slam his forehead against the nearest wall, correcting his stupid brain by pounding it into moving on to the next thing.
He’d found himself staring into a mirror in Zooble’s room once when he was sure everyone was preoccupied, wondering if a dent was forming in his skull.
Skull being a generous term, he thought, watching the… thing in the mirror reflect movements back at him in cartoon, rubberhose fashion. He prodded his forehead, watching it spring with a slight snap back into place while he muttered under his breath.
“You’re so weird,” he grumbled, then tugged at his ears. They, of course, sprang back up with a goofy-sounding “boing” that prompted violent vows to hunt down every foley artist involved with this game. He couldn’t help it. What was he supposed to do? Someone, some faceless little nobody had coded those sounds for his character, those stupid noises that were meticulously curated to make some little bastard out there giggle. It was so intentional to make him the way he was now. To be the laughingstock, the funny one, because what else was he gonna be, looking like… this?
No. No one saw the skinny purple rabbit and thought anything would come of him but one-liners and cheap laughs. Cheap like the texture of his skin, he noticed, presently tugging on his arm. He wasn’t carefully carved wood like Kinger, and nothing at all like the soft stitches of Ragatha. For all her licorice hair, her patches made it obvious; someone had loved her enough to sew them on.
Jax? Well, Jax was the stretchy rubber some machine had pumped into a mold. He was designed to snap back into place when worn too thin, no matter what he was put through.
In that moment, Jax studied his reflection in the mirror; the room had ones hanging on all sides, so no matter where you turned, they were there- chasing and mocking and bouncing back at you.
In the mirror behind him, he saw the reflection of his tail.
Zooble’s parts box lay beside their bed, directly below the mirror to Jax’s left. Inside of it lay a myriad of arms, legs, and various baubles of garish color and unwieldy shapes. Sticking up from deep inside the sea of parts was a chartreuse wooden stick Jax recognized from the croquet adventure a million years ago, back when Kaufmo was still around and Pomni hadn’t…
Pomni…
In one fluid motion, Jax seized the mallet and slammed it into the mirror behind him.
Shards burst apart, flying and striking across the room like lightning. Some hit him of course, but he didn’t flinch. It didn’t hurt like it was supposed to- nothing did. Trying to drown yourself in the digital lake, throwing yourself off rides at the digital carnival, even getting shot didn’t hurt as much as it was supposed to.
Even shooting yourself.
“Who even are you?!” He screamed. Gripping the mallet for dear life in his hands, he swung it around to splinter another mirror.
Caine was curious regarding the whole ordeal with the last remaining gun, as he had been watching, waiting to see if it was found and to determine a winner. He’d noseyed his way into Jax’s motivations, trying to suck out some information to base future content upon. It was in his algorithm to figure out every incentive.
“You clearly have no qualms about hurting people,” The AI had stated matter-of-factly. “Indeed, you specifically say it brings you joy. So please, enlighten me. Why shoot yourself? Did it accomplish what you wanted it to?”
Jax had rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”
“Well, that’s just it. I don’t!”
Scoffing, Jax had turned and tried to escape, but Caine clung to the conversation, and he would until he got his answer. He zapped himself directly in front of Jax and tried once more.
“Pomni didn’t see you do it. So. What was the point?”
Jax’s shoulders hunched up at the first word. He had no idea. “The point? The point of most people’s suicide is to die, Caine.”
Caine blinked, now tapping his gums in thought. “Die?” He clarified.
“Yes.” He was so tired of all this, of everything. He just wanted… “But you can’t do that here.” He looked from the ground up to the ringmaster. “Can you.”
“Why sure you can! You died three times yesterday! So I suppose that’s that mystery solved. Oh Jax, you sly little skiddly-whiffer, you had me worried for a second.”
Jax smiled, quirking his head. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Don’t worry your little cotton socks over it; all is forgiven. But I did mean to mention something. To put it simply, you are the only person that I remember trying to get hurt here. I programmed the pain receptors because I felt like I should, to discourage complete digital dissociation. I know, you’ve asked me to enhance them, but I…”
Jax tapped his foot impatiently; both eyes trained on the motion, Caine quickly sped up.
“What I meant to say was, I can’t grant your wishes without directly going against multiple others, so-”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Arms raised, Jax squinted at the AI in disbelief. “You can’t make things hurt more because other people said not to?” He would throttle them- however less painfully than it should be. It was probably Gangle, wasn’t it. “Who?”
“Oh. Well. Nobody’s asked for that in the very particular. I can’t make it more painful because it isn’t supposed to be! We don’t want people to be miserable, after all. Besides, it would go against player AI confidentiality to tell you that all but two members of the circus have specifically requested your removal/exclusion/termination since your arrival! It’s simply impossible to please everyone, although there’s no harm in trying. But I’m getting ahead of myself. There are biscuits to crumpet!” Before puffing away, he tipped his hat to the rabbit. “It was an eye-opening chat. I’m mulling already! Toodle-oo!”
Then he had vanished into a puff of smoke, and just as quickly, Jax was gone.
In the present, Jax didn’t stop swinging the croquet mallet, pounding the mirrors like he hammered his head against the walls. Hitting like how it all knocked at the back of his mind.
Hard. Fast. Painful.
But never enough.
He hit like how he had shoved away Pomni, hit like how she had when they fought. A real fight, however one-sided. A fight when he’d said he’d move on, while she slipped away.
Right. Because he’d done that so well this far.
“You’re a freaking hero, buddy!” Jax shouted, wanting to say the real word, but not being able to stand that idiotic censor noise. “All but two people want you dead? That’s gotta be a record, right? The only one to ever kill yourself? Cartoon history, baby!”
Every mirror was in shambles now, save the last one dangling by a single corner at the end of the row.
He grinned while he lifted the mallet, watching the smile spread across his face with those stupid, darting rabbit eyes, small and scared.
Voice shaking, he whispered, “You must be so proud of yourself.”
He swung. The frame cracked, dropping and shattering to make its bed among the blanket of glass. The weapon flew across the room as he hurled it, where it bounced off the wall with a “doink!”
Jax sank to the floor, breathing heavily and instinctively curling up while hugging his knees. He hated it, how his body reverted to protecting itself. He despised the stupid cartoons that could be smashed to pieces with anvils and dynamite while the only damage sustained was a goose-egg or swollen thumb. Gotta ensure they reappear in the next episode, fresh and good-as-new, ready for some more wacky hijinks, right?
He shifted, forcing himself to lie plain on his back, heart rate elevating all the same. The most pain the glass offered was a slight poke at his spine.
Joy.
“Yeah, I’ve tried that. They just come back.”
Jax whipped his head towards Zooble’s voice to find them leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Go play in a blender,” he retorted, not bothering to get up or look startled. He played it off like it was the plan all along, getting caught wrecking their stuff in their room. A fun post-adventure surprise.
But they weren’t as mad as they were supposed to be. “Go ahead, treat it like your own personal rage room. I’ve done it more times than I can count.”
“Bet you have,” he grinned, looking them up and down.
Zooble crossed their arms. “Seriously, you’re only hurting yourself here. Caine coded it so it resets when you leave the room.”
Jax made a pillow with his arms behind his head as he pretended to make himself more comfortable. “That’s settled then. Say hello to your new roommate.”
“Like -BOINK- I will. Listen, I don’t give two -DOINKS- if you throw a pity party on my floor. If you’re in here, at least you aren’t out there tormenting Gangle or making Pomni cry, so-”
Jax looked over sharply. “Pomni was crying?”
Zooble’s eyes narrowed, interpreting his swift response as eagerness. “Stay in here as long as you want.” Grabbing the door handle, they began hobbling out before calling out over their shoulder, “When you get yourself together, come on out.”
“Right. Because you just care so much about me.”
Zooble actually paused at this, half turning. The lights from the other side of the door cast a glow around their funky silhouette as they looked at him and the battered walls.
“I’ve been there,” was all they said at first. At this, Jax let his eyes widen until they were almost all pupils. He knew Zooble hated it -thought it was creepy- but for whatever reason, they didn’t stop. “But the difference between us is instead of shoving everyone who came near me into the same hole I was in, I looked up and took the hand trying to pull me out.”
Jax tilted his head, letting a grin slide over his face. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t have experience shoving things into holes, because I know that’s-”
“Alright, never mind, go -SPROING- yourself,” and they slammed the door behind them.
Cackling as they hobbled off, Jax pushed himself up, glass shifting beneath him as he clutched his stomach with laughter. Rubbery, stretchy laughter that wore thin into wheezes and sighs, leaving him wiping at his eyes as lumps in his throat tried to escape along with them.
Somewhere in between, the rubber stopped stretching and started to tear.
It was stupid. Look at him, sitting on a pile of shattered glass and rubbing tears from his eyes. It was pathetic, really. Anyone in a writers' room could tell this wasn’t what the kids or executives wanted. It was hardly funny or cost-effective. Terrible. And they couldn’t even kill him off.
Pathetic. That’s all it was.
Pomni’s voice rang out in his mind, like some distant clang of a clock that you heard when you already knew you were out of time.
“What would you do if I abstracted tomorrow?”
He closed his eyes, feeling his heartbeat quicken in his chest and his breathing begin to hitch. It was happening again. It hadn’t happened in so long before she showed up, and now he was having them like they were going out of style. He hated them -the dumb little episodes- too, how uncontrollable they were, hitting him off his feet from looking down at everything. Something about the dumb scared eyes made him think it was a part of his code, too. The bunny rabbit, pushing everyone else around when in reality he could snap at a sound.
Comedy gold.
It took what seemed hours for him to really see and breathe again- to hear anything other than the pound of his heart in his head. Maybe it was hours. Everything was subjective. He remembered when he first arrived, back when he knew what humanity felt like. Back then -to give it all some structure- he’d try to eat when he felt like he would’ve in the real world, which is to say none. Until it was all the time, and then back to nothing at all. Pretty quickly, it became apparent he couldn’t force it all up and out like he could back when he was a person. He had to get clever with the game physics for that.
It wasn’t easy to keep pretending like you were worth something.
He got up, eventually. He didn’t need to wait for Caine to come calling. He’d been gone long enough; he didn’t want the others to think that he’d truly given up on torturing them yet. If he was stuck there, so were they. Maybe he’d pay a visit to Gangle, give her some reminders of her place in this whole mess, and then find some food. Yeah, it sounded like a good start in regaining what he had lost.
Standing, he stretched and leaned over, practicing his default toothy grin in the slivers of mirror at his feet. Ah, there he was. He made a little promise to himself to come back and leave something vile in here to get back at Zooble for intruding before. They knew what happened when they acted the way they did.
It was all just part of the game.
He peeped out of the door to make sure nobody was meandering by before slipping out and sauntering with a whistle -just in case anyone was. But as the door swung behind him, he paused.
They could’ve been lying. They probably were.
The door clicked shut. Then it creaked open, and two wide eyes peered into the room, just left in tatters moments ago, where pristine mirrors now shone on the walls.
Jax scowled, and the door closed once more.
Good riddance.