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“Boxhead!”
WPNZ’s metal legs tinked across the wooden floor of the apartment as WPNZ beelined for the dining room.
No reply yet. “Boxhead!” WPNZ called again, grinning, finally appearing in the doorway. Puzzles looked slightly startled, his gloved hands still holding the book he was reading. Puzzles turned his TV head to look at WPNZ’s wild gleam with alarmed curiosity.
“Yes?” Puzzles asked, bemused but already grinning.
WPNZ headed over to Puzzles and leaned over the wooden dining table. “D’you remember when you were tellin’ me about that show ya liked, about how it became ‘lost media’ or somethin’ and ya haven’t watched it since?”
Puzzles’s screen changed to a peculiar expression, like he knew what WPNZ was about to say but refused to get his hopes up. “...yes?”
WPNZ drummed the table excitedly. “I found it.”
Puzzles was stunned for a moment. “No you didn’t.”
“I did; I have the show pulled up right now. Took a lotta digging, but I wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya.”
Puzzles’s expression lost its wariness, changing to a radiant smile, the kind that filled WPNZ with a sense of pride. “I imagine it took a lot of digging; I couldn’t even find it! Where did you look? The parent network CommTV went down years ago, along with its shows.”
“I know, I know; I found a recording of one episode online and managed to get it downloaded. ‘Means we’re gonna see a buncha old commercials and stuff, but we can skip through that part. ’Also pretty sure the episode is in the middle of the show, but I’m sure you can catch me up.” WPNZ held out his hand and helped Puzzles out of his chair—a chivalrous act more than a practical one—leading them both to the living room with the already glowing TV. WPNZ collapsed onto the couch and grabbed the remote, Puzzles sitting beside him.
The TV showed the title card: Carnival Glitch.
“Alright, Broadway, what do I need to know while I’m watching?” WPNZ asked Puzzles, already hitting play. It was a ritual of theirs.
The title card faded, cutting to the main character, a young man wearing a purple shirt and light red jacket. “Well, the show revolves around one character, Jackson,” Puzzles gestured to the screen while WPNZ nodded, “but there are technically six main characters. Jackson, Gable, Zyn, Anne, Kingston, and Pammy. Jackson is forced to move to a new town against his will, and although he makes a friend, Rana, she dies—” WPNZ raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn’t interrupt, “—causing Jackson emotional turmoil. Jackson spends the rest of the show relearning how to connect with others and persevere through his struggles.”
“Sounds like a good enough show,” WPNZ murmured, focusing on the show and Puzzles’s ramblings simultaneously.
“You’d think so, but the show falls somewhat short on its themes of community and perseverance by only showing the perspective of one character. We don’t get nearly enough time with the others.”
“Yeah? Who should’ve had more screentime the most?”
Puzzles sniffed. “Pammy, easily. Considering she plays a vital role in the undoing of Jackson’s state of mind. She would’ve been much more dynamic if the writers hadn’t made her as flat as possible.” The show cut to a young woman with a short brown bob and large blue eyes. “Her,” Puzzles explained, gesturing at the screen. WPNZ nodded again, and the two fell into silence for a while to let the episode play.
“Wanna know why? It’s because it’s funny! I do everything because it’s funny!” the character Jackson told Pammy.
“Gettin’ a bad vibe from this Jackson guy,” WPNZ murmured to Puzzles.
“Oh, he gets much worse before he gets better. From what I remember, this episode is late in the second season. He reaches a resolution before the season ends,” Puzzles assured the assassin.
“That’s good. Speakin’ of resolutions, what happened to the channel—or network? You said it went under; I never really asked for details.”
Puzzles seemed to light up, and WPNZ did his best to repress his smirk—he was about to receive the most charmingly convoluted rundown of his life. Puzzles turned to WPNZ, “Well, the parent company, CommTV, was always renowned for its unique content. Not only did it host thought-provoking shows, but on Fridays, the face of the company, known by fans as The Host—his real name was Abraham Douglas—would sit on a cozy set—built somewhat like a cabin—in an armchair and discuss the episode or series that played before him. He talked about Carnival Glitch all throughout his runtime and even well after the show ended because he found so much to dissect. Of course, he also discussed CommTV’s other shows such as Liar’s City, DeathMetal, The Round Table, and so on. Occasionally, he would bring on fellow film critics either through invitation or the individual’s request to also discuss a show further.” Puzzles paused, a flicker of a strange expression passing over him. Before WPNZ could process it, however, it was gone. “Then, however, Douglas passed away about half a decade after Carnival Glitch concluded, and his successor simply didn’t bring the same charm as Douglas did. The channel’s views fell, and the company declared bankruptcy. They didn’t even get the chance to be bought out by competition, and their cult-classic shows were lost to time, gone alongside CommTV.”
“Did anyone try to salvage the shows? Were they on a CD somewhere or…?”
“No, it was entirely digital by this point—they went under in the early 2010s. The original copies may still exist somewhere, but considering how small the network already was, existing channels unfortunately aren’t in a rush to redistribute the old shows.”
WPNZ nodded, and the two once more went quiet while the show played. The episode centred around the main six Puzzles described at some event. It seemed like a carnival, which is probably where the show got its name.
“If I leave right now, are we still gonna be friends afterwards?” Pammy asked Jackson on the TV.
“We were never friends,” Jackson told Pammy, smiling coldly. WPNZ felt himself react to the statement, having a splitting sense of deja vu. Why did that line make him feel… angry? Sad?
Don’t you get it, you idiot? There was nothing between us!
…
WPNZ looked over at Puzzles, who looked similarly uncomfortable. Guilty. WPNZ glanced down and saw Puzzles fidgeting with the tips of his gloves.
“I do not care about you, or anyone else in this place in the slightest! End of story!” Jackson shouted. WPNZ was taken aback—he wasn’t expecting this show to have any sort of meaningful climax. The way Puzzles rambled about it—WPNZ assumed it was a slice of life thing. WPNZ wasn’t sure either of them knew how to react.
“You are my playthings, and I get joy out of making you suffer.”
You mean nothing to me! A mere means to an end.
A few months ago, WPNZ probably would’ve gotten a lot more heated about these memories. He still felt some of that betrayal come back, but it was distant. That was a while ago. This was here and now.
WPNZ took a deep breath, relaxing. He looked over at Puzzles again, taking his hand assuredly. Puzzles turned to WPNZ, surprised, and WPNZ gave him a small smile in return. Puzzles took a moment to process the gesture, and his expression softened as he leaned closer to WPNZ.
The episode finally concluded, but instead of fading to black, a man with a cartoonishly full white moustache and slicked back white hair appeared. He sat in a brown leather armchair and wore a bright green suit while his smile was wide and welcoming. WPNZ thought he looked ridiculous.
Puzzles’s hand left WPNZ’s grasp and the performer sat up straight, his attention rapt.
“This that host guy you mentioned?” WPNZ asked.
Puzzles nodded. “Abraham Douglas—The Host of CommTV.” He looked enthralled. “What are the odds we got our hands on a Friday recording?”
On the TV, The Host clapped, greatly amused. “Wasn’t that episode just wonderful? Even a year after its conclusion, Carnival Glitch is just as entertaining as ever. Now, you all know what time it is. But for those of you just tuning in: Hello! You can call me The Host. My favourite thing to do is find shows that make you think. Shows where you’re not just entertained, but enlightened.”
WPNZ noticed Puzzles pull away from the TV slightly. The assassin glanced over, and saw a curious expression over Puzzles’s screen. WPNZ didn’t blame him—this guy was certainly strange. He was kinda like Puzzles, but without the charming nerdiness.
“But I’m not here alone, oh no. I have a special guest with me today. You may know him, you will love him, here to help me put the commentary in Commentary Television is journalist and movie critic, Telly Black!”
The camera panned over to a young man that looked like a living silhouette. He was probably dressed nicely, but it was hard to tell since his whole body was shadow-black. The only things WPNZ could clearly make out were his white eyes. He was hard to read, but Telly seemed a little on edge. Maybe the poor guy had some stage fright.
“Thank you very much, Host; I’m honoured and esteemed to be here,” Telly said, sounding breathless.
The Host chuckled. “Flattery will only get you so far, Telly.”
At this, Telly’s expression flickered to something of confusion, but within the second, he was pleasant again. He cleared his throat, but a few extra seconds passed before words came out. “Well—you can’t blame me for trying!” The Host laughed alongside the young man.
“But enough about that!” The Host interjected. “We’re here to discuss the themes of Carnival Glitch, are we not? What do you have for us, Telly? Go right ahead.”
WPNZ saw Telly’s eyes light up in a way that tugged at WPNZ’s deja vu. He hadn’t met this guy before, had he? In fact, WPNZ was certain he could place the boy’s voice, too.
“Well, although the show is renowned, I believe its focus on a simple, one-track storyline actually takes away from its themes. The show is talking about very complex ideas and problems, so to only use one character arc and one plotline takes away from the multifaceted nature the show wants to discuss…”
“Heh, guy sounds just like you,” WPNZ commented in Puzzles’s direction. A few moments passed, but Puzzles didn’t respond. Curious, WPNZ looked over at his partner, and he was quickly overtaken by worry.
Puzzles was locked in on the TV, his expression not fascinated but…scared. His chest was rising and falling visibly—and quickly. WPNZ froze for a moment, unsure what to do. Turn the show off? Ask what was up? Something else? WPNZ glanced between the recording and Puzzles like a tennis game, suspending judgement.
“Fascinating!” The Host said, replying to Telly. “Hearing it aloud, I have to agree. If only the show had been given a few more seasons to really hash out the rest of the cast.”
“All it would’ve taken was focusing on other characters to make the show that much better,” Telly insisted. “Pammy or Gable—even Kingston!—had so much potential to explore the perseverance theme, but instead the writers discarded all of them! I promise, had I been in that writer’s room, I would’ve turned that show right around.” The young man sounded convicted.
The Host however, seemed to read the statement as a joke. “Well! I don’t think either of us have the creative vision for something like that!” he guffawed.
Two things happened at once. On the flatscreen, Telly’s expression visibly faltered, and unlike last time, he couldn’t seem to recover it. At the same time, WPNZ saw Puzzles’s screen glitch, growing darker for a fleeting second.
“Ah—ahem, right. I suppose not,” was all Telly managed.
WPNZ focused on Puzzles and the performer’s wordless, scared expression. WPNZ moved to place a hand on Puzzles’s shoulder, but at the same time, Puzzles abruptly stood up, his expression distant.
Puzzles lingered there for a moment, his chest continuing to rise and fall—quicker now—before he once again abruptly left the room, heading in the direction of their apartment’s balcony.
WPNZ grabbed the remote, closing the recording and turning off the TV before following.
࣪࿔˖˚.⋆ 📽 ⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
Puzzles was barely paying attention to his surroundings. He just knew he needed to get outside. Get fresh air. Something. Get away from that…memory.
When was that interview? One—two days before he…?
Before he couldn’t take it. The jabs, the criticisms, the helplessness, the failures, the…
Puzzles had done his best to blot out that time in his life—the time before he was truly himself. But rewatching that…damned interview was bringing everything back.
Creative vision. Why did he have to say creative vision?
Puzzles stood next to the balcony railing, trying to pay attention to his surroundings, to find respite in nature. But it was as though the world had gone dark.
I don’t think either of us have the creative vision for something like that!
Puzzles’s hand moved up to his neck, thinking about the memory.
…requires something you’ll never have! Creative vision.
Puzzles traced the cables between his fingers. A few of them strained, and Puzzles winced at the pain.
The Host. His father. The comments.
It was almost like Puzzles was back in the room where he did it. He could hear the incessantly loud tone coming from the CRT. He could hear his breaths, shallow and quick. He could see the hand saw.
He could feel all the emotions again. He intentionally strained the cables now, relishing in the pain it brought.
But it wasn’t enough.
He started pulling.
Agony fixed his turmoil last time. He had to feel agony again.
Boxhead?
He felt one cable snap.
Puzz!
Another.
“Puzzles!”
Puzzles felt force on his wrists, wrenching his hands away from his neck. Puzzles fought against it; he wasn’t done. He still had to—
“PUZZLES!”
The world got lighter again, and the room faded from view. In front of him was…WPNZ. Looking up at him concernedly. Puzzles’s fight slowly left him, and WPNZ’s hands guided Puzzles’s own further away from his neck. The tone Puzzles heard faded. Had it been coming from him?
Puzzles looked down, surprised to see the body he was used to. He was himself. He wasn’t in that old body. That body had long rotted. He was okay.
“Puzzles,” WPNZ said again. “Look at me. Okay?”
Puzzles’s gaze moved back up, meeting WPNZ’s yellow eyes. They were gentle, patient, but worried.
The pair sat in silence for a moment. WPNZ didn’t let go of Puzzles’s wrists, though his grip had relaxed. Puzzles didn’t move at all.
Puzzles felt his breaths slow. But he also felt something peculiar. It took him a moment to place the feeling.
Shame.
Puzzles’s eyes welled. “I’m sorry.”
WPNZ’s gaze grew softer. “Hey. You got nothin’ to be sorry about.” He took a step forward, wrapping his arms around the performer. Puzzles tried to pay attention to that feeling rather than the emotions swirling around his head.
After a while, WPNZ broke away. Puzzles stood limply, and WPNZ wasn’t holding his wrists anymore.
“Do you…wanna talk about it?” WPNZ asked him.
Puzzles gave half a nod, trying to find the right words. How would he explain that interview? His headspace? That memory? That agony? That—
Puzzles’s hand moved back up to his neck. But before he could make contact, WPNZ’s hand interfered.
“Hey—Puzz—none of that. Here—gimme five things you can see.”
The command was disorienting. Puzzles couldn’t seem to move his gaze from either himself or WPNZ. He couldn’t really see much else.
Puzzles forced himself to speak. To listen. “You,” Puzzles told WPNZ, who nodded appraisingly. Puzzles’s gaze unfocused as he forced himself to pay attention to the world around him.
Puzzles found himself looking at the balcony railing next, remarkably short compared to someone of his stature. “The railing.” WPNZ nodded again. “The door…”
Puzzles’s gaze moved past the balcony, to outside. He looked up at the vibrantly blue sky. Did the sky count? It seemed too expansive to be a contender. Puzzles settled on, “the clouds. And…the road.” Puzzles felt himself relax.
“There ya go. Better?” WPNZ asked him.
Puzzles nodded, though part of his mind was still stuck on that recording. It seemed like WPNZ knew this too, because he told Puzzles, “Now, deep breath,” WPNZ led by example, and Puzzles followed, “and tell me four things you can touch.”
The first thing Puzzles turned to was the railing, and he repeated as much. WPNZ nodded approvingly. Puzzles looked down. Did his own clothes count? Surely that was cheating. He was standing, though, so perhaps, “…the floor.”
Puzzles found himself straining for details. He paid close attention to his nerves, noticing, “The breeze.”
“One more, Box,” WPNZ told him. Puzzles looked around. The world was full of items, surely one more was within reach?
Puzzles’s gaze focused on the man in front of him. “I—you?” Puzzles tried, poking WPNZ’s shoulder.
WPNZ let out a small laugh, “Yeah, I—I mean, I count.” He gazed up at Puzzles, but didn’t say anything for a moment. Puzzles felt that uncomfortable shame bubble back up, but at least the other emotions had mostly faded.
WPNZ looked down, his eyebrows furrowed as he was clearly deep in thought. Finally, he asked, “I mean, that wasn’t…really you, right? I was just…makin’ a joke.” His tone was tentative.
Puzzles gazed back at the assassin, reading his expression closely, nervously. It remained gentle, curious, concerned.
Trustworthy.
Puzzles looked away, but nodded to WPNZ’s question.
WPNZ blinked. He glanced back towards the inside, then back to Puzzles, looking him up and down. “Huh. How’d that happen?”
Puzzles took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain. “That interview was only a few days before I…started to look like…this.”
Wariness wormed its way into WPNZ’s expression. “What happened?” he asked slowly.
Puzzles moved to answer, but the words wouldn’t come out. He tried again, but it was as though something was holding him back. Why couldn’t he tell WPNZ? He’d put the answer in a song before, surely he could say it as a sentence now? His hands moved back to his neck, this time without malicious intent, picking at the frayed cables as the answer rotated in his mind.
WPNZ watched Puzzles fidget, realisation slowly dawning on him. The assassin looked back inside once more, then down at the ground, processing. “...You’re gonna have to tell me this outright, Puzz.”
Puzzles looked down, forcing the answer to come out. Would quoting the lyrics make things easier? Maybe.
Finally, Puzzles got himself to speak. “I cut off my…head.”
“You…” WPNZ took a moment. His gaze wasn’t horrified like Puzzles expected, just surprised and a bit confused. It must not have sunken in yet. “And lived?” WPNZ asked.
“I don’t quite know how it happened either,” Puzzles admitted weakly. A pause passed between the two. Puzzles continued, “I wasn’t in a great headspace.”
At this, the corner of WPNZ’s mouth quirked up. “Have you ever been in one?”
Admittedly, WPNZ’s comment earned a laugh from Puzzles. Maybe Puzzles really could explain himself without judgement.
“I just…seeing that interview and…my old self, I—” Puzzles paused, taking another breath. “It’s like I was back there. Back in that headspace. Back in that…agony.” Puzzles paused again. “I didn't plan to survive…doing that to myself.”
Puzzles saw WPNZ’s eyes widen. “You only have to tell me this if you’re comfortable,” the assassin told him hurriedly. Puzzles nodded. He wanted to tell someone. WPNZ continued, “And, y’know, I’m sorry. For puttin’ the thing on, or not noticing somethin’ was off, or, fuck, not actin’ sooner—”
“It’s alright,” Puzzles told WPNZ. But he could tell from WPNZ’s expression that the assassin was still frustrated with himself. Puzzles supposed he should be grateful WPNZ cared.
The shame Puzzles thought he’d shaken came back up in the silence. What was he ashamed of? He’d assumed his outburst. Was it something…?
Someone.
WPNZ knew what Puzzles had looked like. Knew his old name. Even got a glimpse of his old disposition. He wouldn’t treat Puzzles differently, right? He wouldn’t…use that information, would he?
“WPNZ?” Puzzles found himself asking. WPNZ met his gaze, and Puzzles quickly looked away, out at the street below. “You don’t…hate me, do you? Because of that…” Puzzles struggled for a good word for his younger self. “…lesser me?”
WPNZ took Puzzles’s hand, and the two locked eyes. “Course not,” WPNZ assured him. “I’ll always care about ya. No matter who, no matter what, no matter when.”
Puzzles went still, shocked at WPNZ’s words. His vision went fuzzy as his eyes welled up for the second time. WPNZ’s expression became concerned and WPNZ moved to say something, but the words died as a smile spread across Puzzles’s screen.
“You…really mean that, don’t you?” Puzzles asked, his voice wobbly.
“Course I do,” WPNZ said earnestly, his pupils wide with affection.
“I…don’t deserve you,” Puzzles said, letting out a shaky laugh.
“I don’t either.” Something devious replaced the sappiness in WPNZ’s eyes. “But I’m also a greedy bastard that keeps whatever I’m given, so you ain’t goin’ anywhere.” This earned a solid laugh from Puzzles.
WPNZ moved away from Puzzles, back towards the door inside.
“Where are you going?” Puzzles asked after him. WPNZ turned back around, his expression inviting as he held out his hand—as though the two were in a romantic movie. Charmed and amused, Puzzles allowed WPNZ to lead them both back inside. When they reached the living room, where the TV had been turned off, WPNZ let go of Puzzles’s hand, sitting on the couch sideways so that his legs rested across the cushions.
WPNZ patted his lap. “C’mere, Boxhead.”
Puzzles simpered, sitting on the arm of the couch and moving back until his head rested neatly where WPNZ had indicated.
The two sat there, quietly, enjoying one another’s company. Puzzles felt every breath WPNZ took, and Puzzles was sure WPNZ could feel his as well.
Maybe that interview—maybe its following days—would never really leave Puzzles. He could spend all his hours reliving the past, but he learned a long time ago that it’s much better to focus on the here and now.
And goodness, was he lucky right now.