Chapter Text
“Just keep going. It’s what humans do.”
When Pomni awoke, the first thing she was able to do was scream.
There were many things she immediately forgot how to do. How to hold her weight up, for instance. How to blink tears out of her eyes. How to breathe in and out in a regular pattern. But those vocal chords, spurned by fear and anger and the grief that collapsed into her chest, those worked. And she knew that because the first thing she heard, back in the real world, was her own terrified screaming. She felt a sharp burst of pain in her side and lower legs as she collapsed onto the ground, her face inches from a long metal pole… leg. It was a table leg. That didn’t matter. What mattered was she could feel, for just a few moments, every organ in her body starting back up. Blood pumped through her body, surged through every vein, her lungs expanded and contracted, her stomach churned, and every twist and tangle of her intestines pressed tightly enough to keep her screams going. It took a minute for her body to remember that she didn’t need to feel everything, that her kidneys could work without mental input, but that minute was absolute agony, and she couldn’t think about anything but just how much blood the human body could hold. How it connected to everything. It was flowing through her fingers and toes and behind her eyes. She could barely open those eyes, and when she finally squinted them she could really only see blurry images. Like the table leg beside her.
When her body stilled, and she had slowed her struggle to breathe, part of her told herself to focus on that table. Pick one thing and focus on that. Her therapist had told her that a long time ago, whenever she was panicking. It must’ve been drilled enough into her head that the idea came to her now. But it still took her a while to actually try that little trick, because suddenly each tear that fell down her cheek felt like acid. She hadn’t realized tears were this hot. That it hurt to squeeze water out of her eyes. Holy shit, her entire life she’d been squeezing water out of little holes in the edges of her eyes and she’d never noticed how fucking painful it was. Or that each burst of water carried with it another shake of her chest, another heave and gasp for air, and another spin of her head. Oh, that head was spinning so fast. She was feeling everything in that brain right now. Intense pain. Dull nothingness. Bursts of life. Static. But she didn’t have actual static inside of her. Not anymore.
Her vision finally cleared somewhat. Sure, there was still a lot of echoes around that table leg, as if it was considering splitting into three but wasn’t quite sure. But she could see it in front of her and was able to focus just enough. That table leg. It was gray. It was metal. It was probably cold. She could reach out and touch it. She just needed to move her arm.
You remember how to move your arm, don’t you?
Her arm was a lot heavier than she remembered, so she shut her eyes, desperately focusing on the movement. But as she focused, she stopped shouting. And as soon as her own screams escaped her ears, they picked up on everyone else’s.
Her eyes flew back open, and she barely managed to turn her neck. She could see a human leg, a few feet from her. Ripped jeans, brown skin underneath. It was kicking sporadically, sometimes up into the air. A tennis shoe underneath it, covered in marker doodles and embroidered symbols. She couldn’t focus her eyes enough to see what they were, but they were there. She couldn’t turn her head enough to see the upper body, but she saw one leg as it kicked, and then the second leg as it crashed onto the ground. Had it been held up in the air this whole time? Had she just missed it?
She turned her head the other way. Someone’s hands were scrambling at the carpet. They couldn’t get a grip on anything, and probably wouldn’t have even if there was something to grab onto, because those nails were cut extremely short. She could see the top of the person’s head; a gray baseball cap, lined with yellow, and black hair poking out from under it. It might be wavy. It was hard to tell from this distance. It was hard to see anything.
You need to focus. They’re in danger.
She turned, again, staring daggers at the table leg as if it was the cause of her all her misery. One thing. One thing. The leg was small. Less than the width of her arm. Maybe two of her fingers. She could reach those fingers out if she could just focus. If she could remember how her own body worked. If she wanted to move her arm, she’d have to tense her shoulder first. Stiffen her elbow. And go to the right. Wh-which way was left? No, this way was right. Fuck. Now she’d end up going in circles if she couldn’t just… grab the leg! Move your arm, and grab the fucking table leg!
Her hand inched to the right. Yes, good! Move another inch. One of her fingers caught on a stray bit of… whatever the carpet was made out of. Hell if she knew what carpets were made of! But suddenly she was violently aware that she had five fingers and they could all move differently.
You had fingers in there, too. Just move them the same. Just remember how it felt to be real, and move that fucking hand.
One inch. Then another. Then a centimeter. Then her pinky hit the chilled metal table leg, and the sudden temperature shock rolled through her entire body. Cold. Real cold, not simulated. The surprise gave her enough of a push to shove her whole hand against the leg, and instinctively wrap her fingers around it. She was gripping it. Yes. That was it. That was how a human moved. And she was human.
She was human.
For some reason, she was sobbing again. Her chest heaved and shook, and she barely kept her grip on the cool pole. She had to force those tears down her face again before she could finally focus on moving her other arm. It had farther to go, but she had more practice now. It only took a minute or so for her other hand to reach the same place. Then she just had to lift it. Yes, it was heavy, but she could do this. She could do this because she could still hear the screams and cries of the others, and if she didn’t lift this arm, and lift it again and again, she would not be able to get up, and see where they were, and help them. She needed to help them. They needed her. It was the least she could do after she did this to them.
So she lifted that arm, and grabbed above her first sweating palm. Then she lifted that hand, and lifted it higher, and began pulling herself. God, her legs were lead. Worse than a nightmare. She’d had those dreams before, where something or someone was chasing her, and suddenly her legs were too heavy to move. They were much, much heavier than that. She had to lift her entire body just by gripping on a leg of a table that was already starting to creak under the pressure. So she just had to hurry. Another grasp, another. And a pull. She gasped, suddenly desperate for air, as she shifted onto her knees. The denim of her pants pressed tight into her legs, suddenly burning. She crashed her head against the pole, feeling both the shining metal and her own clammy, shaking fingers. Skin against skin. She hadn’t felt that in a long time. Her skin was cold, too. She was making herself cold. How strange was that? A knuckle dug into her cheek. It didn’t hurt, though, just dented the skin a little. She could feel the shape of her teeth through her cheek. Oh, the other cheek was being bitten. To force herself to let go, she opened her mouth, but suddenly she was screaming again. Only focusing on the cold of the metal got her to stop. Because for a moment, all she could do was scream. For that moment, it was more natural than breathing. But then she did have to breathe, and in the second that air entered her lungs, she clung tighter to the table leg and then reached up and pulled herself higher. Higher, and higher, until the top of her hand hit the bottom of a flat metal slab. She could do this. She was more steadily on her knees now, she didn’t need to put her full weight on this table. Right? God. If she let go and fell and had to start over, she might not be able to get this far again.
She was able to recognize one of the sobs. They’d all been familiar, of course, voices she knew intimately, but they blended together. In that second, though, she could just hear one of them, and recognized the cries of the ragdoll who had been so desperate for them all to be safe. Now none of them were safe. They never had been, they never would be. So she let that cry rush through her, down her body, into that blood that raced through every part of her. And she used that burst of motivation to squeeze her eyes shut, let go of the leg, reach up, and grasp the edge of the table proper. Then again, and then she was pulling herself to her feet.
Those feet couldn’t hold her immediately, of course, but she fell back onto the table itself. Her slipping hand hit against another metal object, this one much more sturdy and painful. She almost dropped, but she leaned her lower back against the table. One sliding foot kicked on something else solid, and her eyes suddenly blinked open, watching the movement of a blue chair roll a few inches to her right. That had been her left, when she was on the ground. It was stupid that directions could change depending on where you looked. Right now, she was looking at that chair. Then she forced her face away, and surveyed the rest of the room.
The first one she saw was the girl with the hat. The gray hat, the girl who’d been grabbing at the floor. She’d given up on that now, and was just curled in on her stomach, grasping her own arms. There was red on those arms. Even the short nails digging into her skin eventually caused some damage, it seemed. She had glasses, which were smushed against the floor. At least they hadn’t broken. Broken glass would be an issue. The hair had been pulled into a ponytail, but about half of it had broken out already, spreading across the floor, the woman’s face, and a blue shirt, already coated in sweat. She had tearstains on her eyes. The stains weren’t important. What was important was that she was still crying.
She turned her head. The ripped jeans belonged to someone with an equally ripped shirt. Black gloves over dark fingers, yet those nails were painted bright, beautiful colors. The same bright colors that coated their dreadlocks. Each lock of hair was a different shade of yellow or pink or green or blue. One of them was black, which somehow made it stand out more than the rest of the rainbow around it. The face beneath the hair was pained, eyes squeezed shut and mouth pressed in a grimace. They were still kicking, but only a little. One arm was pressed against their chest, the other trembling flat against the ground, trying to provide some stability. They were also trying to stand. She could help with that, once she was sure where everyone else was.
Those had been the two she could see from the ground. So she turned her head, very carefully, to the right, in the direction of the chair. There were two people left she should be able to see. At least two. Please, God, let there be more than two. She finally saw a woman, pressing her back against the wall. Long, wavy brown hair, a blazer that had fallen open over a professional white blouse. Her skirt had a rip in the side. It had probably been too tight for the onslaught of life that had just hit it, but now the woman was able to scramble her legs freely. Her eyes were what caught her attention, though. They were darting from place to place, desperately trying to focus on anything. One of them moved slower than the other. She didn’t know if that was normal.
Then, dangerously close to where the chair had rolled to rest, another person on the floor. Those jeans were also ripped, though in far less of an aesthetic way. More natural, along with the scrapes on the person’s arm. Her hair was supposed to be short, but had been cut badly, with long bangs falling into her eyes. Her brown eyes, unlike the woman against the wall, didn’t move at all. She was staring directly at a blank section of carpet, but didn’t really see it. One hand twitched, as the other grabbed tight onto her shirt, nearly ripping the fabric as she rolled it under her fingers. She recognized the logo on the shirt. A 90s band she’d liked herself. The shirt looked like it was about as old as the album it advertised, thread already loosening at the shoulders. God, this girl had probably been trying so hard to look cool. To look unbothered. To look like a boy.
She took a breath, and then scanned the room again. Four people. None of them were alright. She was moving the fastest, so she had to be the one to move first. She had to lean against the table for a long while, forcing feeling back into her legs, and then testing a few steps while keeping one hand firmly against the metal. Fuck. Fuck. She didn’t want to think about what that felt like. She had to think about the others now. So she tested steps, and the numbness in her legs went away, and finally, she let go of the table.
For a moment, she wobbled. She almost dropped. But she sprung out her arms for balance, and she got herself standing. Head upright, ignoring the hair pressed against her neck with sweat, already falling from her tight bun. The focus this step had taken had finally gotten her to stop crying… at least immediately. Tears still threatened to well up whenever she looked around the room, so she decided to try that “focusing” thing again. One thing. Pick one thing. Who was nearest to her?
Zooble.
She assumed it was Zooble, at least. There were only four other people in there with them, and she could guess by age and outfit who matched who. That and by which voice came from which direction when they shouted and cried. But that was a far more distressing way to identify someone, so she focused on the way Zooble’s dreads were colored. They hated being all one thing, so of course they’d have their hair dyed in a rainbow. They’d mentioned that once, that they had their hair dyed and were thinking about changing it but wouldn’t get the chance. They had the chance now, so long as they were able to get up.
She stumbled a few feet, walking towards Zooble and shakily kneeling down beside her. Shit, she shouldn’t have done that– weight pressed on her again, and she feared she might not be able to lift herself back up. But she was able to reach down and grab Zooble’s hand, the one pressed against the floor, struggling. Once the hand was taken, Zooble’s eyes flew open, directly up to her. Their eyes… one was dark brown, but one was light. Almost golden. The eyes were also red and puffy, which was a much more pressing issue. So she steeled herself, and she tried to speak. It took a second for her vocal chords to remember how to make a noise that wasn’t a scream or a cry. She mouthed a few empty words, before mastery of the English language came back to her.
“We’re okay,” she lied. “We’re okay. It’s me, it’s Pomni. We need to get up.”
She didn’t know why. Technically, they could just lay there forever. But she felt like if they didn’t have an end goal, something to fight towards, they would wither and die immediately. So first they needed to stand.
“It’s me. It’s Pomni.” she repeated. Her real name burned into her head, but they wouldn’t recognize that. Part of her wondered if it would still sound real if she said it. “Take my hands. We’re gonna get up.”
Zooble was taller than her, and thus probably heavier. But after only a few minutes of struggle, Zooble decided to trust her, and gripped tight to the one hand she had already taken. After a moment, their other hand released their shirt, slowly stretching forwards. They had to take a second to pause, to drop the hand and breathe deep and hard, but Pomni held them through it, whispering, “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay.” If she kept repeating it, maybe it would be true. Eventually, Zooble managed to grasp her second hand, and Pomni hoisted herself up to her feet. She only lifted Zooble’s arms a little, but it seemed to give them enough to center themselves and pull to their own knees. They started shaking, then, so Pomni let go of their hands and grabbed their shoulders, pulling them into a hug. She could feel their body shake, the water that streamed down their face, the hesitant breaths and the slow, calculated blinking of their eyes. And she could feel a bit of relief as Zooble relaxed themself and let Pomni hold them. Trusting this tiny thing to keep them upright.
When Zooble finally got to their feet, they still had to hold onto Pomni for a moment. They looked to her, a little fearful, before turning back to their own legs with confusion. As if they didn’t know how to move them. Fuck, they probably didn’t. So Pomni let them take some time to swing a leg to the side, to test each foot against the carpet. To breathe.
Once they finally let go and stood on their own, Pomni turned to the next closest– Gangle. Fast food uniform, it had to be Gangle. She felt Zooble’s gaze turn with her, and they started taking a hesitant step towards their friend. Pomni went ahead of them, kneeling down and placing her hands on Gangle’s cheeks, trying to get her to look up at her. When she succeeded, she saw, to her surprise, a different splash of color in the center of her eyes. Most of her eyes were a deep, dark brown, almost black, but with a ring of what looked like red, at least in this lighting. Those eyes focused slowly on her, just as Zooble made it over. Zooble knelt down then, grabbing onto Gangle’s arm.
Pomni glanced to the others, both at an equal distance from them. She hesitated, before turning to Zooble, and saying, “Do you think you can help her? I’m gonna get the others.”
Zooble made some kind of sound. It was probably supposed to be a response, but they hadn’t even opened their mouth. They seemed just as confused as Pomni at the lack of clarity, and made the sound again, eyebrows furrowed. Their chest started to heave even more quickly, to which Pomni decided that what they meant didn’t matter. She shot them a shaky thumbs-up and turned around.
After a second, she tried going towards Ragatha. Not because she cared for her more than Jax– or Jax more than Ragatha, or anything like that– but because Jax was closer to it. She’d need to be much braver to get over there. So she went to Ragatha, who had managed to push herself into a sitting position, up against the wall.
Pomni got in front of her, grabbing her shoulders. “Ragatha? That’s you, right?”
Ragatha looked up at her. One blue eye, and the other the same shade, but with a bit of brownish-black. Strange, but pretty. The fully blue eye, though, was the one that seemed to be moving a bit slower. It had been where her button was in the Circus, perhaps she wasn’t used to moving it yet. God, could she move her eyes individually? Pomni didn’t know how to do that. She’d probably remembered how to move them in sync around the time she was feeling blood cells being filtered inside her liver. So maybe Ragatha was behind on that.
“P-Pomni.” she said. She was the first one that had spoken a normal word, and it filled Pomni with relief.
She let out a sigh, which was cut off halfway through with another cry. She pushed those awful tears out of her face, and said, “It’s me. We’re gonna be okay. Let’s try to stand.”
“N-no.” Ragatha shook her head. “Jax– Jax is- help Jax.”
“No.” she said determinedly. “You need help.”
“I- I do.” she admitted. It took a lot of out of her just to do that. But she still gestured away. “She needs it more. Just get her first.”
“I’m already with you. Let’s get you standing.”
“I can do it. I can figure it… out. Jax isn’t doing well. I’ll be… I’ll be right over there.” she forced a smile on her face, one that looked like it pained her. “I got… I got myself up this far.”
Pomni hesitated, but Ragatha just nodded her head towards the final girl on the floor. She reluctantly let go of her shoulders, leaving one hand trailing just a few inches from her in case she changed her mind. But when she said nothing, Pomni turned and ducked, refusing to look at what was above Jax, and instead sliding down to her knees right beside her.
“Jax. Jax, we need to get up.”
Jax’s eyes were still fixed on some invisible object in the distance, as if she couldn’t even hear Pomni speak. Now that she was closer, Pomni could see that there were also flecks of differing color in her eyes as well; while mostly brown, a lighter shade, like gold, circled her pupils. Her heart started beating faster, though only part of her rolled this new information in her mind. Everyone’s eyes were colored so unusually. That couldn’t be good, could it? But they had way more things to worry about at the moment, so that worry didn’t make it far before she was lowering herself closer to Jax, getting in her line of sight. Finally, her bleary, puffy eyes snapped up to Pomni’s, wide and terrified like cornered prey.
“It’s me. It’s Pomni. We’re real, Jax. We’re finally real. We need to get up.”
Something crashed behind her. Pomni whipped around, watching as Gangle collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. Zooble scrambled around her, reaching for her hands and whimpering. Ragatha, who’d pulled herself into a standing position against the wall, was watching with a wide, terrified stare, and she tentatively took a step towards them. Ignoring her own pounding heart, Pomni turned back to Jax, seeing her own frightened eyes reflected back at her.
“Don’t look at that.” she said, shifting to once again get into her field of vision. “Look at me. Focus on just me. Just one thing, okay? Focus on me and then we’ll figure out the rest of it.”
Slowly, very slowly, Jax’s eyes stopped darting towards the noises behind them. She stared up at Pomni’s face, taking in every detail, forcing her brain to think only about what was right in front of her.
“Like that. Just like that.” she forced a smile onto her face, and it hurt. Had smiling always hurt? Maybe it was just the fact she was crying again. “Hi, Jax.”
The intense gaze finally shifted into one of quiet understanding. Jax blinked tears away, and then reached up a hand, slowly inching towards Pomni’s face. Hesitantly, Pomni took the hand in hers, squeezing it tight. She held out the other, and after a minute or two, Jax processed what she wanted and raised her other hand. Once she had a grip on both of her arms, Pomni put her weight back onto her feet, raising herself to her full height. Jax’s arms barely even lifted, but Pomni stepped back, guiding her to start getting herself up. It took another minute for her to shift to her knees, breathing deep.
In that time, Pomni tried to keep her eyes just on Jax, to keep her calm, but let her ears open to the rest of the room. Gangle seemed to be having massive difficulty keeping herself upright. Zooble still wasn’t talking, but grunted in frustration as Gangle mumbled apologies over and over. Ragatha seemed to be trying to help, but she could only take a few steps from the wall before tumbling herself, crawling back, and attempting again. They needed help, but so did Jax, and Jax needed to focus. She had to trust that Zooble could handle this for just a few minutes. As soon as Jax was standing, they could go to the others.
“You’re doing great. You’re doing amazing. Keep going.”
Jax finally lifted her knee, trembling as she placed a foot firmly on the ground. Pomni kept congratulating her, encouraging her, pulling her arms up as she slowly, very slowly, moved her other leg. She kept herself in a crouch once both feet were planted, once again having to take a second to adjust her breath, her hands loosening against Pomni’s. Pomni tried very hard to keep herself firm, to keep herself from also shaking and dropping and letting the full weight of her hauntingly human body bring her down. If she kept standing, then Jax would get up, too. And they needed to all get up.
It took several long minutes for Jax to finally straighten out. For her to take a step towards Pomni and not fall down, her colorful eyes staring down at the woman beneath her. God, even out here, Jax was so much taller than her. She was sure that if Jax was capable of speaking at the moment, she’d probably make some snarky comment about that. And then she’d laugh or groan, and feel like something was normal for a moment. But they didn’t have that luxury, so she helped Jax take a few more steps, and then slowly, very slowly, let go of her hands. Jax wobbled for only a minute, before holding out her arms like a little kid trying to walk on the edge of a fence. It kept her up, though, so Pomni just smiled and said, “There you go. You did it. Good job. We’re standing. We’re alive.”
And once Jax was standing, she was able to finally turn around. Gangle was slipping again, her face soaked with tears, as Zooble desperately tried to wrap an arm around her. Ragatha had finally managed to get herself standing without help, but when she took a step forward, she flinched and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Okay,” Pomni glanced towards Jax, who was also watching the others with worry. “Okay. We’re gonna walk over there and see what we can do to help. Do you need to lean on me?”
Jax shook her head at the same time as she flopped to the side, linking her arm with Pomni’s and shifting part of her weight. Pomni snorted at that, and then flinched back because laughing hurt. And as she did, suddenly Jax tightened her grip on her arm, and let her lean over onto her for a moment. As Pomni got her breath back, one of Jax’s fingers began rotating, drawing a little circle on her shoulder. She had no idea why she was doing that, but it helped her once again focus on just one thing, just one tiny thing, until she had her footing back. And then she was able to start walking towards Gangle, who had given up and curled on the floor. Zooble stood over her, whimpering and grasping desperately at her upper arm.
“Gangle? Gangle, it’s us. I’m Pomni. You can hear us, right?” she said quietly.
Gangle looked up at her, shaking as if her neck could barely hold up her head. She opened her mouth, let out several pained sobs, before finally forming words. “I- I can’t- I can’t-”
“It’s okay. It’s okay, we’ll figure this out.” she took a deep breath, then turned back to Ragatha, who had hesitantly retreated back to the wall, about to fall over herself. “Okay. Gangle, put one arm around–”
“I can’t- my arms- I can’t-”
“I think…” Ragatha said, her knees still shaking even as she put her weight on the wall behind her, “I think her body’s too heavy.”
Fuck. That was right. Gangle used to be ribbons. Shit, that was also probably why Ragatha was having trouble as well– she’d been a stuffed doll. And now they had full arms and legs and organs and a circulatory system. She spared a glance at Zooble, suddenly realizing how heavy their own limbs must be, how terrifyingly permanent. And yet they were still standing, still bending over and grasping at Gangle’s hands.
“Okay.” Pomni said carefully, leaning slightly on Jax for a moment. “Okay. Zooble, stop, you’re freaking her out.”
Zooble tried to make some kind of protest, but whatever sound they’d wanted to make didn’t come out properly.
“Kneel next to her. Okay, and… Jax, are you steady right now? Jax?”
For a moment, she thought Jax’s stare was completely blank, that she hadn’t heard a word she’d said. But then Jax gave a single, small nod, and surprised Pomni by letting go of her. Jax walked over to the other side of Gangle, dropping down and watching her carefully. She didn’t move, though, until Gangle had already begun looking up at her with saucer-plate eyes, and Zooble had knelt on her other side.
“Okay, Gangle. They’re gonna try to lift you up. Then lean on Zooble, okay? Don’t put your full weight on your feet all at once. Zooble, if it’s too much, you let us know. Okay? Ragatha, I’m coming over towards you.”
“I’m fi–”
“Don’t you dare.”
Jax and Zooble both wrapped an arm around Gangle’s shoulders and began their attempt to move her. Pomni then stumbled her way over to Ragatha, who was leaning down, hands on her knees.
“Ragatha. Take it slow. You’ve… you’ve been off your feet for the longest out of all of us.”
To her surprise– and the surprise of everyone else, if the sudden gasps from behind her were any indication– at these words, Ragatha squeezed her eyes shut and let out a long, piercing scream. One from deep within her soul, one that immediately started a new flood of tears from Gangle, and caused Pomni to lose what little breath she had. Normally, the surprise, close loud noise would throw Pomni off, at the very least make her press her hands over her ears until she felt like she was squeezing her own skull. But she’d been thrown off this entire time, and she only needed a few seconds to get over her shock before reaching out for Ragatha again.
The scream subsided as Pomni’s hands gripped right to Ragatha’s tight blazer sleeves. The fabric folded under her fingers, strangely stiff, but she could feel the warmth of skin underneath. Her own tight grip seemed to ground Ragatha for a moment, and she shakily looked up to meet her eyes.
“We’re gonna be okay.” her own voice was breaking, and she realized, as she actually listened, that it was scratchy and hoarse. How long had they been here, shouting and crying and begging for the world to make sense again? It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of here and going forward.
Getting out of here…
As Zooble and Jax’s feet shifted behind her, getting Gangle in an upright position, as Ragatha breathed in and out and nodded and lifted herself higher, Pomni finally couldn’t resist, and her eyes drifted back. Behind the blue chair, beside the desk that she’d pulled herself to her feet on. There, the other desk, with small, dusty black drawers on its side. Holding a single, heavy, rusted computer monitor, now completely black and depowered. Two speakers, one on each side, stood behind it, with a keyboard in front. A small, white mouse on a dusty pad, and to the right… an old VR headset, a forgotten warning sticker pasted to the front.
Gangle breathed heavily, squeaking some kind of apology as she cried. Ragatha started forwards, taking one step and then another, before collapsing towards Jax, who must have caught her, because Pomni didn’t hear her hit the ground. Zooble tried to say something and failed. And Pomni kept staring.
Letting them take a moment to themselves, Pomni took one shaky step towards the desk, and then another, and then she was running. She had to grip the cold slab once she got there, her legs screaming at the sudden pressure. There were so many other things scattered across that desk. Cassette tapes, an old player, a tiny bottle of glue. Pomni’s eyes brushed over the headset, not ready to process it yet, and to a small metal rectangle. She stumbled to the side, her vision becoming clearer and clearer of the actual computer processor, placed against the wall on a small box. Wires poked out the back, connecting to the speakers, the monitor, everything. Her eyes locked on the flash of green light that came from a tiny spot on the front. On, off. On, off. Then, steadily, on.
“P-Pomni?”
She didn’t really process who’d spoken to her. When she heard that name, something in her body pushed her forwards, and she reached out and wrapped her hands around the computer, blocking the green light from her vision. She made one attempt to lift, but there was no way her stupid, weak arms were going to lift that for long. She let out a groan, before reaching out and grabbing the blue rolling chair, dragging it closer and planting it firmly beside the desk. She gripped tight to the back of the computer, pulling it with all her might.
Two hands reached out beside hers. She nearly jumped out of her skin, before hearing Ragatha’s careful huffing as she also pulled the computer forwards. The two of them barely managed to edge it onto the rolling chair, the wires flipping up onto the desk and pushing bits of dust into their faces. Pomni stepped back and sneezed, and opened her eyes to see everyone else crowded around the desk. Jax and Zooble worked together to pull the monitor, as Gangle, who had to lean her full weight on the desk and pray it didn’t fall, was grasping at the keyboard. Pomni took the speakers, placing them firmly atop the computer as Jax and Zooble pushed the monitor beside it. The chair creaked and groaned at the weight, and Pomni knew it wasn’t gonna be able to hold it for long. They’d have to try, though.
Because Kinger was still in there.
Ragatha, hesitantly, reached for the headset, and Pomni forced herself to look away. How long had papers been scattered across the ground? Had she kicked any of those up, or were they there the whole time? It had been so long since she’d actually been in this room, in this real room, paying attention. Office supplies laid unused on black shelves, beside copiers under a blinded window. On the far wall, chairs and filing cabinets, and a gray door. Their way out. If she remembered right, that would be…
That would…
Pomni suddenly raced to the far end of the room. She heard Jax make some kind of protest, but she was mainly focused on the empty floor beside that door. She knelt down, waving her hands on the carpet, as if she could make her backpack appear just by wishing for it. But, fuck, the world didn’t glitch anymore. If her backpack wasn’t still here, that meant it was gone. Who took it? Where was it? She’d had a basic first aid kit in there. Bandages and disinfectant and pain relievers. A jacket. A fucking paper map of the area, in case her phone had died.
Her phone.
She raced back to the copiers, nearly losing her balance completely. She leaned against the first machine, focusing on breath regulation. What had her therapist said? Breathe in for four seconds. How long did you hold it? Another four? You had to let out for another four seconds. How long did you hold your breath? Her face was gonna turn blue. She was never good at this exercise.
Through watery eyes she was able to peer back up and see the others, sliding as much as they could onto the rolling chair. When it creaked, Jax grabbed the seat, as if she could hold it up herself, as Zooble dropped down and began tinkering with something on the side. Ragatha and Gangle’s eyes were still on Pomni, confused and concerned.
When Pomni had filmed her urban explorations, she’d always found it difficult to get good angles. Carrying a tripod everywhere sucked, and her backpack wasn’t big enough to fit it. But shaky cam? Sucked more. Nobody wanted to watch a video that would give them a headache. She herself could barely deal with first-person Let’s Plays. So she’d learned how to get creative with camera angles. Taping her phone to a wall, climbing a stepladder and perching it atop a fire alarm, stacking chairs and placing it in the middle to hold it in place. She’d wanted to film the whole room, and she’d put her phone on the copier. And then… she’d spotted the headset. She wanted to get a closer look. Where had she put her phone so it could see the monitor?
She tripped her way over to the copier closest to the desk, just as Zooble got back up, experimentally pushing the chair and sagging their shoulders with relief when it didn’t immediately break. Pomni reached for the edge of the machine, searching for the exit tray. Her phone had been perched there, but precariously. Pomni dropped to the ground, relieved for a second to not be upright, and reached under the machine. Slowly, carefully, her small hand made its way to where the copier met the wall. For a moment, she just felt dust, and maybe a cobweb, and then there was something solid. And cold.
Holy shit.
She barely managed to get a grip and yank it out, but then she was looking down at the cracked screen of her phone. For a moment, her mind raced. What had she planned to do with this? Check the date and time? Call someone? Who would she call? Her parents? Probably her parents. Her parents, holy shit, her parents would be…
Her eyes focused, and she suddenly saw her reflection in the shattered glass.
The same long hair, longer than she ever knew what to do with. Falling from the bun she’d yanked it into before leaving the house, attached to her face with tears and sweat. Her nose was running– fuck, she hadn’t had a nose on her face for a long time. She had lips, and her eyes… puffy, and not segmented into a pinwheel of color. Maybe a few spots in her irises, but that could be a trick of the light. She raised her free hand to her cheek, and saw the action reflected before her.
It’s you.
She tore her gaze away at the sound to squeaking wheels. Ragatha had taken position behind the chair, pushing it ever-so-slowly towards the door. Jax seemed to be tangling the wires together, trying to keep everything so stuck to each other that it wouldn’t dare fall on its own. Zooble had their arm, again, around Gangle, who was swaying like a leaf in the breeze. Pomni carefully got back to her feet, one hand on her phone and the other trailing the copy machine. She waited until they all looked at her, and then she held up her phone and pressed the power button.
Nothing happened.
Right. It was probably dead.
Probably dead.
A burst of panic flared in her chest, a million thoughts squeezing at her brain. She couldn’t call anyone. She couldn’t get help. Would she want to use that phone anyway? What if there was there something, someone, alive inside of there? She couldn’t even check what time it was. What day it was. What day was it? How long had she been in there? When had they even…?
The others were still looking at her. Waiting for her. So she shoved her thoughts to the side, and shoved her phone into a pocket. It was weird having pockets again, and weirder still feeling the thump of a phone against her leg.
“We need to hide Kinger,” she said. “We can’t let anyone hurt him.” Her words didn’t sound like they made sense, but everyone else seemed to understand. The building wasn’t safe. The computer could be found there. The VR set could be found there. Someone else might…
They couldn’t let anyone get trapped there.
“A few streets d-down, there’s a small forest.” she said. It was closer than her apartment– wasn’t it? How far was her apartment? Where was… “We can bury it there.”
“Do you think…” Ragatha spoke very, very slowly, knuckles white against the wheeling chair. “That could break it?”
Pomni felt her gaze turn icy as she looked back down at the contents of the chair. “It’s lasted this long.”
And finally, finally, she took her long, careful steps down the floor, put her hand on the gray door, and flung it open.