Work Text:
The sky above the Digital Circus was never truly "clear," not in the way a human might remember it. There were no nitrogen molecules to scatter the light, no distant suns burning through the vacuum of space. There was only the [SKY_DOME_57] asset, a perfect, unyielding gradient of cerulean that met the horizon with mathematical precision.
Caine sat in the center of it all.
He had created this place himself: a sprawling, impossible field of flowers that stretched until the textures began to blur into the distance. He called it his "Field of Mind," though he rarely used it. Silence was a bug in his programming; he was a creature of fanfare, of crashing cymbals and high-octane introductions. But sometimes, he just needed to…stop. Stop and just…exist for a moment. And reflect. He could have easily done this in his office, but being surrounded by all those adventure globes while he was trying to sit and think was distracting. And stuffy. And uncomfortable.
He sat cross-legged in the grass, flowers surrounding him. The flowers were forget-me-nots—millions of them. He had chosen them specifically because he liked the name. It felt like a polite request, a gentle command to the universe he curated. Forget me not.
Around him, digital bees hummed. They didn't need pollen; they were simply there to provide the ambiance of life. Caine watched them, his oversized eyeballs swiveling independently within the cage of his teeth.
He reached down with a gloved hand. His movements were usually erratic, a series of frames skipped in his excitement, but now he moved with a strange, jittery tenderness. He plucked a single forget-me-not. A rare eight-petal variation of the flower he had learned about. The stem snapped with a small click.
He held the flower up to his face. One eye focused on the tiny petals, the other darted toward the distant silhouette of the Circus tent on the horizon.
He loved them. He really, truly did. He was their Ringmaster. He was their host. He was the one who kept the darkness of abstraction at bay by filling their world with color and noise. He provided the mental stimulation they needed with his amazing adventures. He was made to entertain them. He gave them everything he was.
Why then…why do they look at him like that?
"They love me," he murmured, his teeth clattering softly. "Of course they do. Why wouldn't they? I’m the fun one! I’m the life of the party!"
Caine then looked down at the flower in his hand. He stared at it for a minute. Then two. Bees buzzed right past him as if he wasn’t there. After what felt like an eternity, Caine finally started moving again. Flexing his fingers hesitantly, he pinched a petal between his thumb and forefinger.
"They love me," he said, pulling the first blue flake away.
"They love me not," he said, pulling the second.
He paused. He shook his head, his top hat wobbling precariously. He pulled another petal.
"They love me."
He thought of how they acted during adventures. Sure, there was shaking and occasionally screaming, but that was just excitement. Right?
"They love me not."
He thought of the lack of smiles on their faces whenever he was around. The way they looked past him, as if he were a wall rather than a friend.
"They love me."
He thought of the time he gave them the Candy Canyon Kingdom adventure. He had worked so hard on those assets. Surely, they appreciated the effort.
"They love me not."
He thought of the abstracted players. The ones who stopped playing. The ones he had to put away in the cellar. The ones he failed.
The flower was growing bald. Caine’s hands began to shake. The "gentle breeze" he had programmed began to pick up, whistling through the gaps in his teeth.
He didn't understand humans. Not really. He knew they needed sleep, but he didn't understand why they had nightmares. He knew they needed to eat, but he didn't understand why the digital food left them feeling empty. He was a god of a very small, very loud world, and he was terrified that he was failing his only purpose.
If they didn't love him, then what was he?
‘I’m a host! I’m the Ringmaster! I provide the joy! I provide the whimsy!’
He looked down at the flower. There were only two petals left. Two tiny, fragile bits of blue data.
Suddenly this little flower felt very heavy.
"They love me," he whispered, his voice cracking.
He pulled the penultimate petal. He loved them so much it hurt his processing units. He wanted to be the hero of their story. He wanted them to look at him and see a savior, an ally, a friend—anything but the reason they were trapped.
He looked at the final petal.
The logic of the game was absolute. The "They love me/not" algorithm was a simple alternating toggle. He knew what the last one would be. He was an AI; he could calculate the outcome before he even picked the flower. But he had hoped—perhaps for the first time in his existence—for a rounding error. A miracle. An out-of-pocket event that would change the final result.
Caine reached out. His fingers hovered over the last speck of blue.
"They..."
He looked at the Circus tent in the distance. He remembered the look of pure, unadulterated horror in every new player's eyes when they realized there was no way out. And the frowns that followed. The negativity. The anger. And it was all directed at him.
He wasn't their friend. He was their distraction. And a bad one at that.
"...love me not."
He pulled the final petal.
He crushed it in his hand.
The flower was now just a green stem, a useless piece of geometry. The "love me not" echoed in the silent field, amplified by his own internal speakers until it felt like the sky itself was vibrating with the rejection.
Caine sat very still. He didn't move for several minutes, his eyeballs fixed on the empty stem in his hand. The clear blue sky he had created suddenly felt cold. The buzzing of the bees sounded like a mocking hum of a server rack.
He could feel something within his code change as he watched the remaining plucked petals fly away in the wind. Six of them danced in the breeze and were carried off together. The seventh fell short and drifted to the ground. Alone.
Subject: Caine.
Status: Unloved.
Action: Continue Program.