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It’s so bright in the circus.
Every room is brightly lit and brightly colored, filled with Caine’s bright and cheery narration. He won’t leave Ragatha alone, hovering just over her shoulder and going on and on and on about every detail of every space. The girl is grimacing, nodding along. Caine is oblivious, his mismatched eyes sparkling in the light, and Kinger can’t help but find him endearing for it.
It’s incredible, the things a mind can get used to. The ways a person can adjust.
Caine is chattering like an excited child giving a tour of their room to the beleaguered babysitter, something about the offerings at the digital bakery he carefully put together. Then all at once, with the pop of a bubble, there’s silence. Caine is gone, distracted by a stray bit of coding that no one else could possibly follow.
Kinger used to think there was a logic to it. There must have been. Computers are just strings of numbers, just two numbers really, and if you just dig your fingers into it and pull you can do anything. You could do anything. You could, if you could find the logic.
Often, the numbers would blur, the string would tangle. You’d be left with nothing but tangles and knots dripping through your fingers, filling the room, choking your senses. Something that made so much sense yesterday would have devolved into utter disarray.
She was really good at smoothing out the knots.
It’s so bright in the circus.
It’s time to go home.
Kinger shuffles out of the bakery. There is a room, somewhere around here. It’s comfortable. There are pillows, and blankets. There used to be someone else, too.
His hands, disconnected and hovering, flutter in front of his own eyes. Fingers like little wings. He watches them flap. Wishes he could feel them. It’s strange, but he hasn’t felt his hands in a very long time. He’s becoming distant from himself.
His hands swirl and whirl and flap and fly. They twist around each other and dance and leap.
They are stopped. Plush hands have grabbed them all at once, halting the motion, crushing the wings.
“Kinger?” A soft, high voice calls out. She’s so far away.
The butterflies are trapped.
“Oh,” Kinger says, softly. “You caught them.”
The butterflies are released. Free.
They do not fly again. They stay, peacefully where they are.
Ragatha is standing in front of him. Her mouth is all squished to one side, and she shifts her weight from side to side. It’s a very human motion. Very real. If she wanted, she could lock her avatar into position and avoid all body language. Kinger knows he can, too. It doesn’t feel great, but what does?
She said something. It’s different from how Caine speaks. He puts his words right into Kinger’s brain, disguising it by opening and closing his gleaming, exposed, teeth. The girl can’t do that. Kinger has to remember how to listen, now.
“It’s so bright in the circus.”
Can you say that again?
“Yeah… I guess so. Is there somewhere I should, you know? Go? Or something? I’m just not sure…”
“Oh, sure! There’s a whole hallway of rooms. I’d bet your picture’s right on one!” Kinger assured her. She doesn’t look assured.
“Do you have a room, too?” Ragatha asks. Her hands are drawn tightly into her chest. She’s getting smaller, he thinks. A neat trick, if true. Kinger’s never been able to affect his own avatar.
Kinger used to have a room. He never used it. It was garish, black and white and high contrast, full of strange angles and sharp corners. Caine once gestured to it and said ‘I know you like when there’s one thing different from another thing!’ like that explained it perfectly. Maybe it did.
There was a different room right next door he used instead. It was much softer, warm and dim and plush and beautiful. It isn’t anymore, not after she tore it to pieces and he had to build a facsimile to shelter her inside.
It’s so bright in the circus.
“It’s small. Not as right as I would’ve liked.”
He does have a room. Ragatha asked, and he answers. Her mouth squishes up even further. Something pretending to be tears wells up in her eyes, it’s too blue and and too thick, but Kinger knows it’s still genuine. Crying is crying, even here.
“I just don’t really- I understand if you don’t want me hanging around all the time or anything, but I’d really like some company for a while longer if it’s possible. I’m just, I think I’m really scared.”
A floating, disembodied white hand closes over her plush wrist. Kinger takes a moment to recognize it as is, empty of feeling as it is. Her other hand reaches over, clings to it.
She must be so young.
“Would you like to stay with me a while?” He asks.
Ragatha nods, miserably.
They go home. She has to urge him forward a few times. Kinger hasn’t been home in a while. The last time, he hadn’t been alone.
It felt wrong, to go back in alone. It wasn’t built for him. He didn’t build it to hide in. He didn’t build it to live in. He built it for-
“Is this it?”
“Her.”
“Is… this her?” Ragatha asked.
“What?”
“Let’s just get inside, maybe.”
Ragatha pulls back the blanket that serves as the doorway, tucking her boneless body inside. Kinger watches. He can see her finding a seat amongst the cushions and silks. This is good. The circus was built for him, but this was what he built for her.
“Kinger?” Ragatha calls out. Her voice wobbles. “Are you coming in, too?”
“Oh! Right.” Kinger ducks in behind her.
It’s as warm as he remembers. Dark and soft, all the quilts and curtains that were once carefully placed about her living space, rearranged into a refuge from the blindingly bright lights outside.
Ragatha is tucked into a corner, her knees up into her chest. She can’t have been a child, out there. But she seems so lost and small here.
Queenie used to joke that everyone was a child compared to them. That the company must’ve really taken the ‘junior’ part of ‘junior developers’ to heart. The two of them took everyone else under their proverbial wings, though Queenie certainly had more of a natural gift for it. Kinger would get so distracted with his work, so focused on minutiae in code that he would forget to surface for things like anniversaries and date nights. And meals. But the kids took care of him in turn, reminding him to eat and go home to his wife, and he would help them through the knots in their strings.
Kinger used to joke they didn’t need their own kids, between the ‘kids’ at work and the ‘baby’ he was building.
The baby who threw her down a hole.
Kinger sits down. He pulls his knees up, too, holding himself the same way Ragatha is.
“Are you ok?” He asks. He already knows but-
“No.” Her voice still shakes, but it seems stronger here. “I don’t know what’s happening. Can we- is there a way out? To go back?”
Kinger debates lying to her. Maybe she could stay hopeful. There used to be hope in here somewhere. But it feels wrong, nauseating to even consider.
He shakes his head. She takes in a slow, painful breath.
“It’s not all bad,” Kinger offers. “Things can actually still be really good, here.”
He’s had so many interesting conversations in this place, played impossible games, explored worlds that could never be. He had years with his friend who was only given months to live. He spent long days and nights with the love of his life, drifting in a digital ocean and laughing at the stars. Things can be good. They can be other things too, but they can also be good.
Ragatha takes several shaky breaths. “Is there anyone else?”
“There’s Caine. And Bubble. The Sun and Moon outside aren’t great to talk to, but something there are NPCs who are alright.” Kinger shifts to lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his blanket fort.
“Are you…”
“No, I’m a human.”
Still. Probably. He must be.
“Are there any other humans?” She’s staring at him, eye wide. There’s an answer she wants. He’s going to disappoint her.
“There used to be. But, uh, no. Not anymore.”
She’s going to ask what happened, it’s the obvious next question, but Kinger speaks again before she gets the chance. “I’ll give you a whole tour tomorrow. And answer more questions. Caine knows a lot, too. But for now, why don’t you just take it easy. It’s a lot to take in.”
Ragatha nods. “Is it alright if I stay in here a bit longer?”
If Kinger closes his eyes, if he lets himself drift a bit, he can almost feel another presence with them. On Ragatha’s other side, helping hold the girl together and ease her woes.
It's good in here.
Stay as long as you’d like.
“She would have loved you.”