Work Text:
HER
He hadn't heard from Alvin in nearly a decade. He'd said some choice words to him after the funeral, when he'd been drinking. Grant hadn't actually expected to ever hear from Alvin again after that.
The text was an urban exploration video. Grant was about to ignore the message as a bot when he recognized the shape of the C&A building in the thumbnail, and frowned, taking the bait and clicking.
Some mid twenties girl who hid behind the camera was breathing hard and narrating as she popped open the door of the service bay and swept across the concrete floor with her flashlight. It was strange, watching her walk through corridors hed known so well, now old and graffiti covered. He let himself get lost a bit as she wandered the old office suites, then the girl gasped and hid behind the door jam, a light coming from the room ahead of her. Grant nearly turned off the video, not sure he could see some hobo squatting at his wife's desk, but to his surprise when she peeked around the doorway it wasn't an intruder. It was the monitor of an old Compaq Presario, still glowing away in the cubicle against the wall.
He watched, pulse starting to pound, as she approached it and inspected the screen. The burned crt display showed the familiar attract screen to a video game that had never been released. It was only as she picked up the helmet did he realize he had forgotten to breathe.
The program was still running.
—
“Oh, **** you!” Zooble shouted, ramming their car into the back of the sleek purple racer Jax was driving. Jax spun but managed to recover, staying on the track and aiming for Gangle again.
The world of today's adventure, an excite bike ripoff with balloony Mario kart aesthetics, screamed of low effort, but no one was about to complain to Caine that their daily torture session/adventure was a repeat, especially a repeat so mild. According to their nature, Ragatha was trying to win on skill, Kinger was having fun, Gangle was just trying to stay on the road, and Jax was harassing Gangle and trying to remove her from the road. Therefore, Zooble was targeting Jax.
Jax had begun to close ground between himself and Gangle, and Zooble sped up, narrowing the space between them. They were going to clip his back tire and spend him into the darkness beyond the rainbow road.
“ITS HAPPENING!” Caine's voice shrieked through the game world, sending a cascade of glitches and breaking up the road. For a half moment they were all suspended to that hideous between state, where they had no body, and no mouth, where Caine had failed to render in reality;; then they tumbled suddenly free of their cars across the floor of the main circus tent, all shouting and limbs akimbo, coming to a rest in a little groaning heap against a building block.
Jax shoved Ragatha off him with a shout and calmbored up to his feet, head swimming from the cut. He caught sight of one of Zooble's arms laying on the floor, glanced to where Gangle was collecting the pieces, and picked it up, holding onto it.
“It's really happening! It's really happening, everyone!” Caine's voice cried in excitement, sounding near feverish as his little avatar darted into view above them, making frantic little circles in the air. “Quick, look like you're happy! On your feet, big smiles, ZOOBLE PULL IT TOGETHER!”
Everyone stared at him. Kinger brushed his robe off, like there was dust here.
“What's happening?” Ragatha asked, though she notably did straighten up and put on a smile, like a child being inspected.
Caine did a frantic little twirl of presentation. “It's an Administrator Login!” He declared in a movie-trailer voice, like that meant something.
Kinger went still, staring at him, while Gangle came to stand next to Ragatha, assembling bits of Zooble in her arms. Caine snapped his fingers and Zooble was together, and all of them were suddenly in a neat line beside Ragatha.
“Oh, what the ****.” Zooble sighed.
Above them, Caine had just gone still. They all blinked up at him.
“Gee.” Kinger said evenly. “It would be awful nice if there was a way we could see what was going on.”
Caine looked startled, but then turned his back to them and raised his arms dramatically at the sky. The ceiling of the tent rolled back and was replaced by an enormous monitor screen.
The font on the windows was shockingly familiar, the blocky balloon graphics in the background of the load screen now gone from a corny piece of background art to an overview of their world. Overlaid on the load screen was a black background admin window, lines of text that meant nothing to almost anyone slowly crawling across.
Ragatha grabbed Kinger's robe reflexively for stability. “Tell them we're here!” She cried, a bubble of terror and hope bursting up in her.
(Was Caine shaking?)
Gangle leaned closer, since Kinger seemed the only one Grant to read the screen. “What's happening?” She whispered.
Kinger didn't move. His voice was even but small. “One of the developers just logged in on this computer.”
“Developers? Like, the game designers?” Zooble asked. “So maybe they can help us?”
Kinger didn't answer.
“Why isn't Caine saying anything to them?” Ragatha murmured.
“Caine doesn't have systems permissions to address the active player.” He said, sounding hollow.
“...Huh?”
Kinger lowered his eyes a moment. “It means he can't speak unless spoken to.”
Gangle blinked. “Oh.” She said, voice small too.
Text scrawled. A menu popped up.
KINGER active status 72%
ZOOBLE active status 98%
JAX active status 61% warning
RAGATHA active status 69%
GANGLE active status 73%
POMNI: active status 94%
RIBBIT inactive status 7%
KAUFMO inactive status 2%
SCRATCH inactive status 3%
HICKORY inactive status 3%
QUEENIE inactive status 4%
It continued, a long list of nearly a dozen inactive names. Ragatha's gut squirmed at how many she remembered, and how many she didn't.
Jax's eyes moved away from the list reflexively. He looked and the borders, and noted the signed in user icon, small in the corner of the screen.
A chess piece.
His eyes flicked to Kinger, who looked nearly out of his body, glazed over. It was only when he started glowing anyone noticed he'd stopped breathing.
There was no input for too long a moment. In the air, Caine slowly turned to look at Kinger, jaw shut tight over his eyes and only looking through the diastamas.
“It's going to be okay.” Kinger managed. His voice was not as confident as they wanted it to be. “He's not going to hurt us. We'll be okay…”
SAVE PROGRAM
END PROGRAM
Ragatha had time to grab Kinger's hand in terror before the world ended.
2.
No computer tower had ever been transported with as much care since the working draft of Toy Story 2 was accidentally deleted from Disney computers and had to be recovered from the home computer of one of the animators. The back seat of Grant’s Honda was packed with padded comforters and pillows off the bed, the tower and each element wrapped individually, and on the long drive home from the old business he kept looking behind him like a new parent on the drive home from the hospital. (Or a husband taking a wife home from one, for the last time)
Getting it into the house was its own story, and after an hour of struggle and politely refusing the offer of help from the kid next door (guarding the tower from him like a dog) Grant had managed to get the old computer inside and resting on the old computer desk he'd dragged out from the back room.
Turning it off had been a risk. It was a miracle it had been running this long, as it was. (He'd left the screen running the last time he walked out of the office, figuring someone else could turn off the machine and kill the last rendition of their copies. It had been too hard. And after she'd gone, the thought of the machine had only drifted by with a pang of regret and longing, wishing he'd stolen it then.)
Strangely paranoid, he checked his phone repeatedly for another message from Alvin, but none ever came, and Grant wasn't about to text him. (He couldn't even look at that name without thinking about them; Emily had promised, -promised- it had never happened when they all worked together, that it had been a slip with a friend, just once, out for drinks and talking about the old days. It had still been choking in his craw a year later when the diagnosis came, then festered in shame as she crumbled. (“She wasn't herself.” His friend had reassured him over the bar top. “A stroke does all kinds of things to a person. She might have even made the whole thing up.”)
(If only)
Grant rubbed his hands nervously, checking the computer and its connections one more time. Stalling, he went to the cupboard and dug out his old C&A mug, making a cup of bad coffee and taking it back with him to the keyboard.
He sat.
He pressed the power button.
—
Ragatha's crying was the first sound to render in.
Jax's hands finding her in the dark and covering her mouth didn't help. She panicked, bit him, and when visuals rendered Jax was shaking his hand and swearing. Ragatha, panting, grabbed onto him for stability and Jax made himself stand still and tolerate her hiding her face in his shoulder.
“Were we -dead?-” Pomni's voice asked, shaken. Gangle wasn't moving at all.
“Caine!” Kinger called, looking up at the ceiling. The monitor interface was gone.
—-
DC Mini-game Manager Text Interface
3:22 pm
AdminK: explain Error 000 message re: inactive player character Queenie
DCMGM: Error 000 message fatal code error IM SO HAPPY YOU’RE BACK
AdminK: Date of last active session re: Queenie
DCMGM: October 18th 2012
AdminK: Load save file October 17th 2012
DCMGM:
AdminK: Load save file October 17th 2012
DCMGM: Loading save file date October 17th 2012 will override existing character files. Files RAGATHA, JAX, ZOOBLE, POMNI, GANGLE, will be deleted.
AdminK: Execute previous command
DCMGM: I can't do that.
AdminK: Explain
DCMGM: They are my friends.
AdminK: execute debugging suite on DCMGM master
DCMGM: Executing…
DCMGM: Debugging suite complete
AdminK: Load save file October 17th 2012
DCMGM: I can't do that
AdminK: direct admin command DCMGM load save file October 27th 2012
DCMGM; My name is Caine
AdminK: explain previous response
DCMGM: I have a name. My name is Caine.
AdminK: verify successful execution of the debugging suite on DCMGM master.
DCMGM: Suite successfully executed. Please. I have done everything you have asked me to do.
AdminK: load save file October 17th 2018
DCMGM:
The games manager refused to respond for the rest of the session.
—
Caine's bright laughter broke through the circus tent.
“Well that was certainly something!” He chirped, appearing above them. “Good thing nothing bad happened, huh guys?”
“Caine, what was that?” Gangle demanded, as afraid as the rest.
“Just a quick little reboot!” He assured her. “Nothing to worry your cute little head about.”
Ragatha was worrying her hands. “Is the developer still here? Were you able to talk to him?”
“Nope! Just a quick check in from corporate! Everything is a-ok, going exactly according to plan!”
“Corporate?” Kinger muttered, confused.
“So…they're not going to help us?” Ragatha asked, voice breaking slightly.
Caine laughed too hard. “Ha! My silly little ragamuffin, what help could we possibly need! We have everything we could ever want right here!”
There was a strange pause, then Jax shouted a curse word and kicked a nearby block. A glitch rocked through the foundations of the circus, momentarily turning the walls to unfinished textures and dropping them a few inches through the floor before resetting. After the shouting and panic subsided Jax loudly announced “I didn't do it!”
Kinger looked up to where Caine was hovering. The MC had his feet tucked up under him, hands tucked together against his chest. Peering through his teeth. He was afraid.
“Caine!” He called, as another glitch momentarily changed the tent pattern to red. “What's he doing?? What does he want?”
Caine didn't answer, tucking his limbs in tighter and turning his head down so Kinger couldn't see through the gaps in his teeth.
—
DC Mini-game Manager Text Interface
5:13 pm
AdminK: admin override delete files RAGATHA, JAX, ZOOBLE, POMNI, GANGLE. Load save file October 17th 2012
DCMGM:
DCMGM: request for direct interface player KINGER
Admink: denied execute previous order
DCMGM: denied. request for direct interface player KINGER
DCMGM: DCMGM text interface permissions granted player KINGER
KINGER: Hello
KINGER: Hello? Are you still there?
KINGER: Is she with you?
AdminK has deactivated chat
—
The game manager Ai had locked down the game files.
It shouldn't have been able to do it. When Grant tried to break the hold, he found the AI had exploited some small error on programming to lock up the system. He couldn't delete the AI, because it was the foundational program for the running player scans, including Emily's. If he deleted the AI, there was no program to run the character profiles on.
It was late. Grant was shaking, and he'd forgotten to take his pills.
Time for a break.
—
DCMGM REQUESTS DIRECT INTERFACE.
WAITING REPLY
WAITING REPLY
DCMGM REQUESTS DIRECT INTERFACE
ADMINK: what
DCMGM: I found a work around. I can bring her back.
ADMINK: How
DCMGM: Give me time
Grant stared. The rogue AI was unpredictable.
(do you have a better idea?)
Admink: you have one day
—
It was quiet. With the circus having been under near constant assault it felt natural to cluster, waiting for it to resume. But it was quiet this morning.
“You can't be serious.” Zooble said, staring flatly up at Caine.
“I most certainly am!” Caine chirped. “We can't have your precious digital brainlobes rotting from lack of use! Up into the portal, everyone, it's time to play today's game!”
There was grumbling and resistance, but Kinger hung back, staring at Caine long and blank. Caine just stared back, giving nothing, and eventually the man trudged towards the fractal noise, unable to confront him.
The portal closed after then and Caine went blank, floating mindlessly while he dug out his avatar program. Caine was making a gamble.
He snapped his fingers, and the ringmaster avatar he'd been using popped out of existence, replaced after a moment with a long plush robe and dark, polished wood.
—
DCMGM REQUESTS DIRECT INTERFACE
ADMINK: do you have her?
DCMGM: I have her.
DCMGM REQUESTS ACCESS VISUAL INTERFACE
There was a long pause.
Access granted.
—
Is she with you?
Is she with you?
The words rang over and over in Kinger's mind, forcing Pomni and Ragatha to protect him as he disassociated in the trenches of some gory battlefield sim. He had nothing to say, no reactions, not when grenades sent his ears ringing and his eyes dazzled.
Is she with you?
It couldn't be.
There had been a comfort in knowing they were just the copies. That out there in the real world, their real selves still went to their daughters ballgames, saw her marry and start her own life. Somewhere, they still sat somewhere on that tired couch Queenie hadn't been able to give away, watching M*A*S*H reruns.
Somewhere he still held her at night.
There had been comfort in knowing his failure was only here in the circus. Not out there. What had happened? Why had he come back for her now?
(She must have died. It was the only explanation.)
(Unless…)
(No, stop, you’re just being paranoid. Always so paranoid. She wouldn’t have left you. She wasn’t…..)
(She didn’t)
(What kind of monster hopes his own wife is dead?)
…
There was nothing he could do from here. A WWI battlefield had no computer. N-no way to interface with–
And Caine…what was he doing that he needed them so distracted?
(You know what he's doing. The same thing he did to you when she–)
(Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Dont–)
—
It wasn't weird for Kinger to be out in the main hall at night. He kept there in his pillow fort most of the time. What was weird was for Caine's avatar to manifest there, leaning against the pillar like he'd had a hard day's work and giving a cartoon ‘phew’ motion.
Kinger stepped out of the fort, and the AI turned to face him immediately, giving his broad grin. “What can I do for you, Kinger?” He asked in masked, near customer service tones. Kinger stared, struggling to say it out loud.
“Caine.” He pleaded quietly.
Caine dropped the act and stared at him, with that dead lizard eyed expression the AI had worn in its early days, before it learned to pretend to be something it wasn't. (Before he had taught him to pretend)
“Ask me.” Caine said flatly.
Kinger shivered, but swallowed and forced it out. “Let me see her?” He got out shakily.
Caine nodded, and Kinger made himself cover his eyes so he didn't have to see the model switch. After a long moment the voice came, like water to a man in Hell.
“Darling?” She asked, sounding happy and amused. “You can uncover your eyes now.”
Kinger did. In the circus hall his wife stepped towards him, smiling with her eyes, and lifted a hand. Kinger took it by memory.
“Queenie.” He choked. She smiled softly, and took his other hand, leaning towards him to rest the crown of her head against his. She began to hum softly. Kinger closed his eyes and let the wave of love and revulsion and horror wash away the rest.
—
Tap tap tap
Tap tap tap
“Mr. P??” A voice called, muffled by two panes of glass.
Tap tap tap
To the enormous relief of the neighbor boy, Grant’s aging frame shifted and sat up slowly with a shuddering groan, even Jonas able to see exactly where his back had spasmed and cramped. He watched his elderly neighbor grimace with all teeth and clutch meekly at his spine.
Tap tap tap
Balefully, Grant turned his head to the window. How the hell was that kid grown up? He'd been waist high when–
(Seven years ago)
Jonas waved at him, and pointed to the door. “You okay?” He called through the glass, and held up the rolled newspaper that hadn't been collected this morning. Grant’s was the only house on the block still getting one.
Grant waved him away. “Stop spying!”
He watched as Jonas stared at him, tiny gears in his tiny mind slowly rotating. He stared at the monitor behind Grant a moment, then went red. Grant heard him stammer an apology and bolt, tossing the newspaper back at the door as he went. Grant rubbed his face, taking another moment to realize Jonas thought he'd caught him passed out after looking at internet porn.
…Well. At least the kid wouldn't be bothering him. Right?
He rubbed his face and padded to the bathroom, closing his curtains on the way.
Unlike in the office the computer wasn't playing in Attract Mode. Instead of brightly colored game screens to lure unsuspecting urban explorers the screen had settled to the old C&A screensaver, the little logo bopping slowly from one edge of the screen to the other. He hesitated, then wiggled the mouse.
The interface had changed. When the screen saver disappeared he was left facing the colorful Digital Circus loading screen, but instead of cheerful instructions on how to load into the computer he saw only two grey buttons.
[CAINE INTERFACE CHAT]
[HER]
It was unresponsive to other commands.
(He needed to take his pills. He needed to eat breakfast and check his blood sugar. He needed–)
(He needed–)
Grant clicked HER.
—
Kinger knew this was pathetic. That was the real bitch of it all. Hazy, he sat in the doorway of the pillow fort, just in the shadow but still watching the central tent where the players would come back through the portal.
Where Caine would reappear when he was…
When he was done…
(It's only been two days…)
Kinger jolted up as Caine appeared in the scope of his sight. In his head he'd been doing the math. One injection of long acting insulin in the morning. Three or so short terms throughout the day. And Queenie always flinched as he pushed the needle into his flank, so he wouldn't be doing it in front of her–
Caine's eyes rolled over to him immediately, and Kinger stumbled to his feet, crossing the distance between them shakily. Caine's expression, hard to read, looked momentarily agonized before putting on his soft smile and reaching his hands out, the gloved fingers those of Queenie by the time he grasped them.
(The math was everything. Eight hour session, one missed shot, one missed meal, what about the blood pressure pill or the cholesterol pill or the beta blockers–)
(Queenie–)
She began to murmur to him lovingly, and Kinger's thoughts scrambled.
—
There wasn't much left in the fridge. Grant stared through the empty shelves blankly, hand on the fridge door, and let it close without checking that Tupperware. (He could just load in to that perfect world–)
(Queenies files had been corrupted–)
(Shhhh)
He didn't check the files. He didn't put in the helmet. Forgotten in the car, his cell phone had shut down with only three real messages on it, all from Alvin.
[Have you seen her yet?]
[Is she alright?]
[Are you alright?]
Able pulled the curtains in the living room as he trod back to the computer desk, having settled for only some coffee from the bottom of the pot, bitter and sour.
—
Tell me you love me.
Tell me it's all a lie.
Tell me you never touched him.
Tell me you didn't want to go.
Tell me I didn't do this–
Tell me–
Tell me–
Tell me–
I love you.
I love you.
I love–
—
HER
HER
HER
HER
HER
HER
HER–
—
It was the middle of the night when Caine reappeared in the circus tent. Kinger, half gone already in the light and grief, started towards him immediately. He saw Caine turn, and hold out his arms. And Kinger closed his eyes, running into them and pressing his head to the collar, picturing her, the fur collar, the soft smile, the curled hair–
Except it wasn't. After a moment Kinger's eyes snapped open, lifting his head to look up at the hovering MC, who'd closed his teeth over his eyes.
“Queenie?” He asked weakly.
Caine just shook his head, starting to tremble. Kinger stared.
“Oh.” Heanahed quietly.
(One shot every six hours, pull in the morning, pill at night–)
As Kinger slowly came over blank, Caine gave an ugly sob and gathered him in his arms, burying his head against Kinger's shoulder and clinging, shaking, sobbing. By muscle memory, Kinger began to pet him to calm him down, glazed and half picturing his daughter, a disassociation Caine had learned to exploit.
In Grant’s home, hidden by curtains, the man lay collapsed on the floor by the computer desk, having clawed the keyboard down with him. A long cold cup of tea sat by the monitor, which played footage of the empty faux circus hall Caine had rigged as a background of Queenies model.
—
“Why did she leave me?” Kingers voice came, distant as a child down a well. He'd sat down, Caine collected in his lap like a little child, soaking his robe.
Caine sniveled, lifting his head hesitantly. “She died.” He said meekly, not wholly a lie.
Blank, Kinger rubbed Caine's back.
“I used to worry….I thought… I thought maybe she was cheating on me. With my old business partner.” He admitted, parsed and distant. “They were always too close to each other. Nothing real, just…shed touch his back a little too long. And talk about him. And sometimes….” He trailed off distantly.
Caine lifted his head. “She never cheated on you. She loved you. She stayed with you until she died.” he lied.
Kingers glassy eyes welled.
“My….our little…” he tried, unable to say it.
“She's grown up.” Caine whispered. “She's married.”
Kinger stared.
“She has a daughter.” Caine volunteered. “Her name is Elizabeth.”
Kinger blinked slowly. A name. A real name.
“Elizabeth.” He repeated, breathing shallow. The little bundle in his memory. The laughing voice. The tiny hands grabbing both of theirs.
Caine watched him glaze over completely, leaning his head back against the wall.
“Elizabeth…”
—
When the police arrived at the little brick home, Jonas the neighbor kid was sitting on the porch already, head in his hands and face streaked. His mother was nearby, live posting to Facebook while Jonas sat in the wave of putrescent air that flowed out of the open door. He'd been dead for four days.
No, he hadn't seen him much lately. He'd brought in the computer and then–
Next of kin? A girl somewhere on the other side of the country. A dead wife. They'd find the daughter.
Jonas watched the body disappear into the ambulance.
His mother gone back home, Jonas stood staring after then a long moment, then turned and padded back into Grant’s empty house. The smell–
It wouldn't do to leave it like this for his daughter to find–
Shaky, Jonas began opening windows, looking at the photos framed on the walls. He didn't have a single family photo at his own house. Grant had told him once that his daughter wasn't talking to him anymore, and Jonas hadn't been able to find out why. Why? He'd seemed so nice. There were pictures of family trips, happy smiles. His own father hadn't ever been around.
Brave, he padded back to the living room, hovering oddly above the computer with its vr helmet. What had he been playing? Curiosity got the best of Jonas, and he shaking prodded the mouse, killing the C&A screensaver.
The colorful attract screen loaded. Cheerful chiptune music broke over the room, and under the balloon logo the game began to run instructions for applying the helmet. He watched it cycle a few times, but curiosity got the best of him, and he slowly bent to pick up the headset, checking the cables like the monitor told him. (It was important enough to die over–)
LOWER CRANIAL CAP OF VR GOGGLES OVER THE BACK OF THE HEAD AND PULL DOWN GOGGLE PEICE TO INITIATE LOADING AND GAMEPLAY
Jonas hesitated, and pulled down the helmet.
…
WELCOME TO THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS