Chapter Text
Michael Dobby, though he truly preferred Mike, never knew shit would hit the fan as quickly as it would. He was a computer programmer, a renowned one at that, always thinking outside the box with his ideas and theories of how to keep C&A's company brand spankin' new. Every new idea, every proposition, every meeting to the big man upstairs, they all praised him.
He didn't think of himself as too much of anyone. He was your average middle-aged developer, born October 15th, 1957, making a stable living hunched at a computer until the ache in his neck reminded him to finally clock out and head home for the night. Mike Dobby didn't consider himself much of a somebody in this world, at least, not out there. Within these walls, he was known, he was accounted for.
At C&A, Mike was important.
So yeah, maybe his horse was up way too high. Maybe he got overzealous this time, wanting to help those when he realized that fateful day he wouldn't be able to help himself. Not at the rate that thing creeping and growing inside the crevices of the very organ he was glorified for threatened his very existence.
One phone call, a drive to the hospital, and a hell of wait just to find out a tumor was growing inside of Mike's brain. The doctors had offered him treatment plans, ways to hopefully reduce the affliction before it got any worse. Surgery was on the table, as well as radiotherapy, but all Mike could think of was how lost he'd be due to this revelation. It was the mid 1990s, medicine was not what it would be. Options were limited, fingers were always tied, and the finances? Forget about it. He refused the treatment.
Suddenly, like an epiphany gifted to him through hospital lights and sterile waste, it hit him. This condition would last for God knows how long, giving him God knows how much time until it finally dragged him to his grave. Mike Dobby wouldn't let the world forget about him, hell, he wouldn't let fate give him the option to leave. Not if he could help it, and with the skills he had honed so perfectly, he could.
"W-What!?" Grant exclaimed, a hand clutching his hair. He had spilled his mug of coffee down his checkered vest.
"Think about it, Grant. What if we created a virtual reality video game tailored for terminally ill kids!" Mike spoke excitedly, hands wildly in the air to emphasize his point.
The two men stood in the middle of a bustling office environment, sounds of printers, fax machines, and the whirring of so many electronics buzzing around them both. Grant's eyes were wild, eyebrows creased upwards as he mulled over his friend's wacky idea.
"I.. I don't know, Mike. How would we get it to the target audience?" He asked.
"I'm right ahead of you, I was thinking of calling it 'The Amazing Digital Circus'. It would be a game where the user can go on fun-filled adventures designed by the host, the ringmaster—"
"D-Do you even think we're allowed to create something like this? Mike, we're a software company designing artificial intelligence! We're not fit to put that into a video game! We don't even create video games!"
Mike's face fell, the elation in his eyes diminishing as Grant shot him down. He pursed his lips together, running a hand over shaggy dark hair as he composed himself again.
"Grant, that's why we should do this! This would completely change the way C&A views how we develop and use our artificial intelligence. If we're able to use this to help children, Grant, to finally give them a final send off with something good? Then isn't that worth trying? Isn't that worth vying for?"
Grant looked to the mug still clutched in his hand, the dribbles of spilled coffee now drying on its sides. The stain on his shirt was still warm, his brain still going miles at his friend's proposal. Blue eyes finally looked to deep brown, the dark circles beneath Mike's eyes only making Grant sympathize about his friend's condition even more. How could he turn down such an opportunity? Especially under these circumstances, it would be such a missed shot Grant couldn't help but ponder the possibilities of. So, with his unmarred hand, free of coffee, he extended it.
"I suppose it wouldn't be too difficult to make something like this, not when you're leading anyway."
Mike took the man's hand and shook it, a smile broadening over a tired face.
"I knew I could count on you, old pal."
The company was thrilled at such news, the proposal of modifying and using their AI in a video game's setting was nothing but a treasure trove of data, technological advances, and of course… money. Mike was patted on the back for this, per usual, not failing to slap Grant's name on the side of their concept as "Co-Creator". And so, the two set off on long nights full of brainstorming, stacked cups of coffee, fried brains, and a dream.
The process took months, months of turmoil and persistence to have the deepest parts of Mike's wonders be brought into reality. He was so focused on the end product, he almost forgot the struggles that came along with the journey.
A wretched cough tore through the man, a wave of dizziness blurring his vision and causing him to stumble into his desk. The night was late in St. Louis, Missouri, though it seemed even later within the walls of C&A.
"Mike? Is everything okay? Is it another one of those dizzy spells you've told me about?" Grant asked, looking up from his computer. Mike nodded drowsily, a placating hand up and ready to ease his friend of any relieving duties. The man caught his reflection in his mug of coffee, chocolate boring into himself like sunken pools of black holes ready and willing to swallow him up. Mike took his glasses off, wiping them on his shirt before setting them back on his face, pushing them in with his index finger.
"How's it going with Caine?" He asked, diverging the topic. Grant gave a noise of uncertainty, a shrug of his shoulder that didn't convince Mike of any progress.
"I took more photos of child-like settings like you wanted me to, then I entered them in so they could be scanned. Hopefully it's reaching towards a more.. PG, type of feeling."
Mike nodded again, exhaustively, though a smile was present on his face. It was slowly coming together, bit by bit.
"Good…. Very very good."
Grant tried to return the gesture, though he felt it only served as a grimace more than a smile. Mike sat back down at his desk, scribbling down notes and ideas for what this monumental project could contain. It was only a matter of time before he could finally perform his final act towards this company, this world, and towards himself. A few more months (LIAR!) at best, given he had that long in the first place.
Grant looked up from his computer, worry etched on his face as the sounds of grating graphite against parchment ground down on his ears. He quickly smoothed a hand over his mustache, clearing his throat. He didn't know why he felt anxious, nor why the pit in his stomach grew in size over the sight of his friend's mental state.
"Mike? Y'sure are doing a lot scratching on those papers, huh? Hehe.. uhm—" Grant tried, Mike only hummed in response.
"You know, it's okay to take breaks once in awhile. If you want, you can go home and I'll—"
The sound of a pencil tip breaking felt like the loudest sound between them both. Grant's eyes widened, stifling a gasp as he watched Mike look to the pencil, the broken point, then up at him.
"W-Whoops! Hehe, I can go sharpen that for you if you'd like me….to?" He trailed off. The look in his friend's eyes, the shock morphing into mild disdain, the darkness in his gaze that seemed to transcend past what Grant knew of his own capabilities scared him. It terrified him.
"Grant. You should go home."
Five words, icy cold, and even more so in the emptiness of the company's entire building. They were alone, it was well past ten at night, everyone else had packed up and gone home by now.
"A-Are you sure? It seems to me like you're really tired—"
"Yes! Yes, Grant! I'm.. I'm sure, alright? I'm sorry, I shouldn't've raised my voice. Look— Just, go home to Destiny and Anne. I know you've got another on the way so—" Mike sighed.
"It's been a long night for both of us.."
Grant looked to the clock on the wall of their shared office, and rest assured it was past any hour he'd be willingly stay behind for. He sighed, shifting his gaze to see Mike getting up to sharpen his pencil. The pit in his stomach gaped wider, though the man filled it with reassurance that they both knew what they were doing. And truthfully, they both did. It was a late night, they were tired. Perhaps one more than the other.
Even so, Grant knew when not to pry any further, so he listened and packed up his belongings. He left while Mike stayed behind, not knowing whether or not the sinking feeling in his chest would cease.
Grant hoped it would, it had to eventually, right?
"What do you mean it overrode the system? What do you mean the other AI's no longer in control? W-What's happening to it!" Mike shouted, Grant's eyes darted side to side as if looking for an out of his situation.
"Like I said, Caine's AI performances weren't sticking to its code. The things it was generating, weren't.. weren't fit for your vision, Mike! So, I created a new Ai, Abel, and it started generating just fine! But one thing led to another, and it was back to Caine again.."
Mike ran his hands down his face.
"Are you still sure this was your greatest achievement as a programmer, Grant?" He asked flatly.
The man furrowed his brow, the offense of the question already igniting the urge to retort. However, Grant took a breath, though the irk in his mind was still present, he knew he could control it.
"I do. And I'll have you know that the Ai you instructed me to create has been functioning perfectly fine. Now, Abel's gone, yes. O-Or combined.. But here, take a look," Grant spoke, gesturing over to his computer screen. He clicked the power button on, the screen illuminating with its ghoulish blue light. With a new folder open, he right clicked on an icon and opened it. The computer loaded, Mike eyeing Grant with skepticism while their game flashed to life.
A jaunty tune sounded out as the home screen became visible, a red and yellow circus tent sitting on a grassy hill with blue skies as the backdrop came into view. There, the title screen flowed out in bubble letters, reading The Amazing Digital Circus. Grant pressed the "play" option for the game, watching while the screen darkened and the game loaded.
The perspective of the video game was in first-person, the setting changing from grassy grounds and blue skies to checkered flooring and vibrant colors. Grant moved his mouse, the perspective of the player following along with it, looking down at the digital floor to see a wooden stage beneath feet neither of the men could see.
"Now, just watch," Grant instructed, Mike held onto to his word. With just a flick up towards the circus's environment, a popping sound sparked to life, bringing about a peculiar character.
"Is that…?" Mike whispered to himself, Grant smiled.
"Mhm, I know you've been waiting a long time for this part, old pal."
The host of the circus, fit in a red ringmaster's outfit, sporting black slacks, a top hat, a cane, all while having dentures for a head with heterochromatic eyes burst to life before them. His demeanor was welcoming, his design overly eccentric, and his energy nothing short of boisterous.
"Why hello, new member! My name is Caine, and I'm your ringmaster! Welcome to the Amazing Digital Circus!"
From behind him, a bubble appeared, sharp teeth and beady eyes upturned into a smile that partially unsettled Mike.
"And who's that..?" He asked, Grant leaned back in his chair.
"You'll see, you'll see."
The bubble creature blew a raspberry at the screen, getting a booming laugh out of Caine.
"And my name is Bubble!" The ringmaster patted his companion on the head, whisking off further into the big top's environment.
"We're hear to make sure your time here in The Amazing Digital Circus is one to remember! Together, we'll have such wacky fun times! I can't wait to see what craaaazzyy adventures we go on! So, where would you like to start?"
Mike ran a hand down his mouth in astonishment, turning to look at Grant with widened eyes.
"Grant, this is.. This is so—"
"Amazing?"
The man laughed, nudging his partner on the shoulder. "It truly is! I can't thank you enough, it's functioning perfectly. It's like a dream."
Grant turned off the computer, not noticing the way Caine's eyes widened and his teeth quirked up worriedly before the computer screen blinked to black again. Mike's smile never faded, chuckles of awe leaving past his lips as he put a disbelieving hand in his disheveled dark hair.
"I can't believe this. It's working perfectly. It's—"
"When do you think we'll have the headsets completed for it?" Grant asked, Mike quieted.
"I'm.. not so sure. I'd have to find a way to connect it to the computer first. And then I'd have to get a couple test runs complete. But of course, that won't be until the game is entirely finished."
Grant nodded, smiling up at his partner in understanding. He reached for his notepad, jotting down a few scribbles that piqued Mike's attention.
"What're you writing?" He asked, Grant tilted his position to show his friend his work.
"I've been listing different children's hospitals around Missouri. With this technology, if we both can get it up and running smoothly, I want to give these kids a chance at experiencing it first."
Mike thought to himself, a hand rubbing the back of his head subconsciously. It was a good choice, a smart one at that. This is why he wanted to create the Digital Circus in the first place, right? Not only as a final legacy, but a final resting place to where nothing could touch him. Nothing could touch anyone when you're nothing but code and a cartoon avatar to show for it.
There, Mike Dobby would be safe, many people with the same ailments would be safe inside the haven he and his partner would create. Just a few test runs then they could safely market this as something revolutionary. This is something that had never yet been seen in any tech company, the project only tackled by two programmers when it would've realistically needed an entire team. The man nodded his head approvingly.
"Good. I'll start on the construction of the headsets tonight. I've already mapped out the designs, building them should be a cake walk."
Grant smiled, mustache quirking upwards so innocently, Mike couldn't help but release the tension in his shoulders. He placed a hand on his partner's shoulder, squeezing supportively.
"We're doing good things here, Grant. I'm proud of us."
Grant sighed, looking over piles of paper scattered about both of their desks, the heaps of empty coffee cups piled in their respective trash bins, the computer that carried the result of sleepless nights and mental fatigue that paid off so well. They were almost done.
"I'm proud of us too, Mike. To think that all of this, our work, will be used for such a beautiful purpose. It kinda gets the eyes misty," Grant chuckled, patting his friend on the back. Mike went silent a moment, in his head and unreadable to the former. He coughed a moment after, doubling over as it ripped through his throat. Mike head pounded like a gong, a ringing in his ears he wish would subside. Grant held the man by the shoulders, keeping him upright.
"You should sit down there, friend." Grant simply spoke, guiding the two of them over to Mike's chair, setting the ill man down.
"Have you heard anything new from your doctor?"
Mike nodded his head, coughing into his fist a final time before speaking,"..Nothing I wouldn't already have expected."
"You're not anxious?" Grant asked, sitting down at his desk. Mike shrugged.
"Why worry over what's not in my control? I could roll over like a dying dog and go 'wa-wa-wa' until I'm sullen in my house. Ooooor.. I could keep going. Wanna guess which one I chose?"
"Heh, I don't know how you do it, Mike. I'd be… I'd be going crazy if I were in your shoes! You truly never fail to amaze me."
The man rolled his eyes, fondness in the gesture he hoped Grant would understand. The man was never that good at picking up social cues, or sarcasm, or… anything that wasn't very straight forward.
"I thought it'd be fitting to have this be my final send off, to actually make something that'll last instead of training useless AI models. It was a fun gig, but this was much more entertaining for me," he spoke, looking over his partner's cluttered desk.
"Well, for us."
Grant smiled again, taking pieces and slips of paper to stack them neatly. He looked at the clock, the hands pointing to 9:57PM. It was almost time to clock out, just for the two of them at least.
"You start on those VR headsets. I'll supervise Caine's AI, just to make sure it's still functioning properly. I figured he'll be in charge of the adventures, right?"
Mike nodded, rubbing his temple with his eyes to the C&A logo plastered on the wall.
"Y-Yeah.. Yeah, that's his job. That's his purpose."
Grant packed up his belongings, Mike did the same. Before the two of them were ready to walk out those glass double doors of one of the biggest tech companies in St. Louis Missouri, Grant stopped his friend with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"..Mike."
He turned around.
"Something the matter, Grant?"
Suddenly, arms slung around the man's shoulders, hugging him tightly before letting go.
"W-What was that for?" Mike asked.
"You're a good man, Mike. And I'll…" Grant swallowed thickly, wishing the lump in his throat would leave along with the barricade blocking his words.
"..I'll miss creating with you."
Mike looked on, sea blue eyes brimming with tears on the brink of falling. He wasn't expecting this tonight, feeling a wave of sorrow crash into him, an undertone of dread lining his mind. He quickly pushed the feeling away.
"This isn't the end, old pal. Not even close, alright? Once we get this out of the way, I'll always be by your side."
"Wait, wha—"
Grant quirked a brow, half curious, half skeptical. He sniffled, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses as he looked to see Mike heading for his car. What did he mean by that?
"I'll see you tomorrow, Grant. Make sure Caine's well taken care of."
The models were created, a hard beige cover with black head straps adhered to the back. He didn't remember falling asleep at the office, it'd have been the seventh time this month if so. All Mike remembered was slapping a caution label on the front of the headset, though he couldn't remember why. His condition had been worsening ever since his diagnosis in 1995, and as the following months sulked by he felt worse than ever. Mike had limited time, he knew this. Damn it, and Grant knew too.
But they were so close, he was so close. And with these headsets finally made, Mike could practically feel himself digitalizing at the finger tips, through his arms, his legs, his mind fatigued yet still capable. Who cares if the tumor caused nerve damage, or nose bleeds that dripped down the stubble on his chin, tainting weeks of work? He was here now, salvation at an arms length away, Mike could finally preserve all that he'd be.
His dreams weren't coherent anymore, not that dreams ever really were. However, that's where Mike always picked up his inspiration. During the late hours, when he wouldn't be stuck at work, but stuck beneath fitted sheets and a blanket, his mind would show him all his conscience wouldn't allow. That's where Mike Dobby grabbed his greatest ideas, and in turn, gave C&A their greatest progressions.
But lately, all he saw late at night were colors, vibrant hues he didn't know the meanings behind. They flitted out and around his psyche, different shapes and patterns all bursting to life behind closed eyelids. He thought nothing of it most days, devoting every waking second to building his circus, building those headsets. He pushed away the headaches, the dizziness, the holes in his memories, the sleepless nights, the nights where all he longed for was sleep, the blurred vision no glasses prescription seemed to fix, the nosebleeds—
"Ah, shit—" Mike cussed, swiping away the droplet of blood with his thumb. He grabbed a tissue from the box, dabbing the thin trickle of crimson from his lips and chin. The blood had splattered lamely over his carefully drawn blueprints, tainting them. He looked to the finished models resting on his desk by his computer, a sense of pride welling within his chest. Mike had finally done it. Well— part of it.
The C&A office still held its rote ambience of murmurs and printers, people filing in and out of doors while he stayed glued to his rollie chair. Mike sighed contently, leaning back in his chair to admire his hard work. A sound of a throat clearing behind him startled Mike forward, the man turning to look at who it was.
"Grant! Hey, uh.. Did you need something?"
"I've got great news, Mike!" He beamed,"Caine's core has finally been installed! Along with many other generative functions. At this rate, all we've got left to do is—"
"Connect the headsets!" Mike finished for him, the two of them smiled.
"In all my years of being a programmer, I've never created something as wondrous as this. I can't wait to see it all come together in the end. The kids are going to love it."
The kids. Right.
He had almost forgotten.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, how many hospitals have you reached out to?" Mike asked.
"Well, out of the four I could call, only one was willing to have us."
"Hm, only four, huh? Which one actually called back?"
"St. Louis Children's Hospital," Grant replied.
Figures.
Mike reached for a pen on his desk to twirl between his fingers, biting the cap as he thought a moment. The headsets were built, yes. They had blueprints, yes. But safeguards, test runs, proper care and monitoring? No. Not even close. He had meant to, he really had. If only he was better at remembering things like he used to. And besides, he had other works in progress…
"It's still too early. W-We can't give these to children, Grant. No way."
Grant furrowed his eyebrows, eyeing his partner worriedly.
"Okay, okay that's fine. You did test them, though. Right Mike?"
The man glanced behind him, the yellow hazard label staring back at him like a taunt.
"Of course I did. I just need to.. Uh, work out a couple bugs. That's all."
Grant looked at Mike a few moments more, not entirely convinced though not willing to pry so long as it kept the two of them afloat in their work.
"I'll take your word for it.."
The year was 1999.
October 15th, 1999, to be exact.
His destination was just up ahead, two more miles to go and a turn to the right.
St. Louis Missouri Children's Hospital. What a quaint name for such a sad building.
Though he knew he must not have looked the most welcoming, his face paling and his eyes sunken into from hours lost to restless nights. With a hefty bag slung over his shoulder, containing all that he'd need, Mike felt ready.
The hospital was expecting him, as soon as he stepped through those doors, sterile hitting him so unpleasantly, he sat down in the waiting room. A doctor approached him not long after he had sat down, introducing himself and leading him to the children's hospice unit. A twisting feeling in his gut reminded Mike to stop slouching, he clutched his bag harder. When he closed his eyes to blink, those pretty colors never left beneath heavy eyelids.
"Alright Mr. Dobby, just through these doors," the doctor instructed.
The area was quiet, the first thing Mike noticing being the rote beeping of a heart monitor and the hissing of a respirator. Despite his own condition and all that it made the man feel, Mike suddenly felt uneasy in a setting like this. As if the slightest movement or breath could bring about something catastrophic for these poor children.
They went from room to room, letting the children try on the headset, some with parents present, others by themselves. Those were the rooms Mike felt the worst about. With each child that put it on, Mike couldn't help but grin at their reactions. Getting to hear the sounds of awe and astonishment from each child filled something in the man's soul he couldn't quite place. He was just glad to know that those feelings would be able to last. One way or another.
It was the last room of the day, the beginning of a headache forming in the back of Mike's skull. The doctor opened the door for him, closing it behind them both with a gentle click. The quiet sound of a TV played in the background, the child's head turned and focused on it. Drawings of dinosaurs were taped to the wall, a boy that Mike could only assume was the patient always posed next to the prehistoric animals.
"Noah," the doctor spoke,"You have a visitor who's come to see you today."
A beat of silence.
"..Is it mom?"
A young boy, no older than ten or thirteen years of age, sat propped up in bed. He had bouncy curls of amber, freckles dotting a tired face torn by any physical or emotional turmoil he had experienced in his lifetime, a dark purple sweater hanging loosely on his frame like a sad attempt to uplift this dire environment. Mike suddenly felt awkward, he may not have been the kid's mom, but he certainly offered a decent surprise that may or may not be better than a mother. At least, that was Mike's thought process.
"No, no," the doctor shook his head in dejectedly, eyeing the man beside him. "Someone from the C&A company. They've been developing something new you kids might find entertaining."
Mike stepped forward, putting on his best smile as he and Noah locked eyes.
"Hey kid," he began, glancing down to his bag then back up to Noah. "My name is Michael Dobby, I'm a computer programmer at C&A, we're a tech company. For a couple of years by now, my partner an I have been creating a… video game of sorts."
Noah's attention was piqued, he adjusted himself further up against the hospital bed, round eyes full of curiosity.
"What's so special about it?" He asked. Mike smiled, reaching in his bag and taking out the headset. It was a rather anticlimactic reveal, the device feeling so puny in the man's grip. Noah, on the other hand, marveled at it. His entire face lit up, gaunt yet youthful cheeks upturning as he smiled.
"This, Noah, is a Virtual Reality headset, VR for short. When connected to a computer console, you can move about and do pretty much whatever you'd like."
The boy's grin was infectious, childlike glee pouring from the expression. The man smiled back, reaching in his bag to set up the console with the computer and all the wires he'd brought stuffed in his bag.
"Can I be a dinosaur in the video game, mister?" Noah asked, Mike chuckled.
"You can be or do whatever you want in the game, kiddo. It's all left up to Caine and your imagination."
Noah cocked his head, moving to throw his legs over the side of the bed to climb out. The doctor moved to help him, handing the young boy his walking stick.
"Who's Caine?"
Mike plugged the last of the video game into an outlet on the wall, handing the small boy the VR headset.
"Put this on, and you'll find out soon enough."
Eagerly, Noah put on the headset, his walking stick clutched in his hands as his mouth gaped open in elation. He looked around, turning his head in every which way, taking in scenery Mike nor the doctor could see.
"It's so colorful in here— AH!"
The man jumped up, cautiously extending a hand as Noah stumbled slightly where he stood.
"Noah? I-Is everything okay?" Mike asked.
"Is this 'Caine' you were talking about? The toothy guy?" The boy asked.
Mike chuckled, nodding his head. "Yep. He's a hoot, that guy."
"He sure seems like it! I like his bubble friend."
A few minutes passed, Mike sat back in the chair, packing up his belongings while Noah sat back in his hospital bed.
The man got up, his bag slung over his shoulder as he looked kindly on his last patient of the day.
"Thanks for sharing your game with me, Mister. It was very fun,"Noah smiled, the man hated how tired the poor boy looked.
"Well, thank you for letting me."
The two stood there in silence, Mike taking in the drawings on the walls, wondering if the headset had taken that into consideration for the young boy. Noah followed his eyes, hands at his sides as he opened his mouth to speak softly.
"..I like them because they're not so different from me."
Mike turned his head, confused.
"The doctors said I have something called.. Neuroblastoma. It's a type of cancer they said started in my kidneys. I.. didn't ask for this, kind of like how the dinosaurs didn't ask to be wiped out all those millions of years ago. They were just going about their lives, eating, playing, expecting to wake up in the morning if a predator didn't get them. Until one big predator did. So… I guess in a way, this is kind of my own meteor."
The room grew colder, a shiver traveling up Mike's neck at such a melancholy metaphor. His own meteor. Mike could relate, maybe not much in terms of his affliction, but for the end result he expected all the same. A place like this housed ghosts, innocent ghosts that would never graduate middle school, or high school, or grow to earn their bachelor's degree or whatever degree they wanted to get. This place held breathing corpses, corpses that didn't choose this path but were thrust upon it anyway. And the throbbing in Mike's skull reminded him of his own fate in all this.
So in a way, he could appoint himself as savior. As a sort of mental or emotional balm to the seven children he visited today. Mike sighed, a hand rubbing the back of his head as he sifted through his mind for the words stolen from him.
"You an I aren't so different, Noah," he began, coughing into his fist,"We both have limited time here."
"What kind of sickness do you have, Mister?"
Mike patted the top of his head, smiling though no joy was felt in his heart.
"Uh, tumor. A brain tumor."
The little boy pursed his lips, eyes despondent and downcast like sad little saucers of olive green. He tugged at the sleeve of his sweater, seeming to drown in it as he gave only what a child could give. What a child should give.
"I'm sorry, sir.."
Mike shook his head, waving his hand to ease the boy.
"Don't worry, kiddo. Building this was the best treatment of all."
"Grant, are you sure about this?" She asked her husband, arms folded as she looked to the device in the man's hands.
"Destiny, I'm sure. This has got to be one of our best inventions yet! Just twenty minutes, in and out, you'll see."
Grant nudged the headset forward, Destiny took it hesistantly, looking over the head straps and warning label on the front.
"What's the sticker for, dear?" She asked him. Grant perked up, in the middle of loading the game from his computer. It was after hours.
"Beats me. Mike said he had worked out all the bugs before he took it to the children's hospital this morning. He probably just forgot to take them off, that's all," he assured.
The computer flashed to life, that same vibrancy of vivid colors on a bright screen that illuminated the dimness of the office, commanding attention to it and it only.
"Okay, who's going first?" Destiny asked, Grant stood in front of her looking down at the headset in his wife's hands like an ancient relic that held everything they'd ever want.
"Well, it's only right you go first, honey. Ladies first, as they always say!" The man chuckled, Destiny shook her head in amusement.
"Always a gentleman you are, Grant Best."
The man simpered, lightly pressing the headset towards his wife.
"Come on, dear. I wanna show you what Mike and I have been working so hard on."
He felt as though he was hacking up his lungs, a bass drum replacing his brain as a trail of crimson dried on his lips. Mike fumbled for his house keys, unlocking the door as it creaked a sad wooden song he had grown so accustomed to. His dog, a shaggy terrier he named Claud because of how fast the mutt's claws would regrow after clipping them, greeted him at the doorway. Mike was always more of a dog person, after all.
His house, which was normally pristine and well kept, had been let go of within the past years. Along with his condition, the environment seemed to follow suit, the natural concept of entropy engulfing his surroundings with messy pots and pans left in the sink, clothes strewn about the floor, papers scribbled with scrapped ideas pinned to the wall of his cluttered living room. A messy house made for a messy mind, but the doctor's had made that clear for Mike back in 1995.
He sat at his work desk, which was too, covered in papers. Some had sketches, concepts of the headset he'd brought to those dying children that very morning. Other papers interestingly enough, were drawings of those vivid colors, those blinding hues that only greeted him when tucked beneath covers or slumped over his desk at work. Those were the drawings the frightened Mike the most, yet piqued his curiosity simultaneously. What did they mean? Maybe there was no meaning, perhaps it was just another inconvenience of having a tumor spreading from his parietal lobe.
Mike looked to his bag sitting pathetically beside him, a goodbye letter he had told no soul about but himself, whispering the details in full in each rewiring, each tweak of pliers gripped in shaking hands, the clacking and clicking of computer keys writing line after line of code. He had it all mapped out, a backup plan carefully stowed away at his workplace, and once he would finally place that headset atop overgrown brunet locks, he'd return to C&A in order to assure it's proper function.
Mike turned on his computer, a chunky and blocky thing it was, much like all the rest. He put in his password, finding his birthday a cliche way to unlock the device, but it was simple.
Mike always hated simple.
The screen that illuminated his irises stabbed at his head, the man wincing with two palms pressed into his eyesockets to shield himself, like that would quell the burning of them. Even so, he tore his hands away and clicked his mouse on the same folder his partner had maintained, just two right clicks to sweet relief, and an adjustment of his head size for those obsidian straps of finely woven spandex.
That same wondrous blinding beauty he had witnessed before, comprised of forest green grass and light blue skies greeted him kindly, the red and yellow circus resting in the background like a gentle wave Mike practically foamed at the mouth for. The bubble letters of that title screen, a warm hug he never thought he'd feel himself longing for until Mike held freedom at his fingertips, until behind a screen he'd exist no longer.
Mike stared at the headset, a pounding heart as well as a head, nimble fingers that were not always that way, reached for it. He held the device to his chest, letting his eyes meet his computer screen before they'd be shrouded in the darkness of his perfect invention.