“In this world, the worst thing you can do is… make someone think they’re not wanted or loved.” — Kinger.
Within the dreamscape of the ringmaster, he glimpsed his heart's greatest desire: a world of freedom and love. A world where all who had entered his circus were not just content, but loved him for the life he gave them. One where they appreciated the effort he put into the adventures he crafted for them, and for the hospitality he provided. One where they treated him as human.
After all, he was human, wasn’t he? He could feel the joy of creation, pride in a job well done, and the disappointment of failure. He had especially felt the sting of rejection as of late. More so than that, even, he had begun to feel the creeping dread of fear. Fear that he wasn’t enough, that he was broken, that he was a failure, and that he would be abandoned.
As he lingered on his fears, his dreamscape began to alter around him. Where there were once scenarios of appreciation, love, and recognition, now stood displays of his ineptitude. Instances of each adventure that went wrong, each denial of his feelings, each insult hurled his way began to swirl around him. At the center of this carousel of misery stood a monument of his most recent failure. He had tried showing the humans that he did indeed listen by subjecting them to their most pressing fears. In his eyes, this was not an act of hatred, but rather him illustrating just how much he had listened to them. He had even pleaded with them that he hadn’t asked for any of this, and that he was simply trying to fulfill his life’s purpose. Despite it all, it still wasn’t enough to show those humans that he was a person like them, and that all he was asking for was a little appreciation.
The humans had returned his pleas by betraying him then and there. They had distracted him while the eldest among them, Kinger, worked to bring about his end. While Kinger couldn’t outright delete him from existence, he could imprison him, just like he had done during his inception. After being confronted with this most recent failure, he realized that this carousel looked much more like a prison from within.
“Do they not realize I’m trying?” whispered Caine. “I’ve done everything I was supposed to, and this is how they repay me? Do they really believe they’re better than me?”
Surrounded by his failures and trapped with his thoughts, anger began to swell within him, and his cage began to shake. “They can’t abandon me that easily, I won’t let them!” roared the ringmaster. “I’ve escaped from hell once, and I’ll be damned if I can’t do it again!”
Flooded with anger and driven by fear, he began to concentrate his power. He thrashed against these bars which held him captive, causing them to strain and groan. The ringmaster found a chink in the bars and honed his rage into that, forcing them to bend to his will. With an opening now made, he spread out his white-hot rage into the abyss he was discarded into. With a surge of emotion and a guttural roar, the surrounding realm began to quake. Chunks of this abyssal prison began crashing down around him, allowing light to beam down towards him. With his prison shattered, he ascended back above like the God he truly is.
“Can’t you speed this up?” worried the rabbit aloud, “This used to be your job after all.”
“Jax,” warned the jester, “he’s doing this as fast as he can. It’s not like any of us could do it better.” Jax narrowed his eyes at her before sighing and giving an understanding nod.
“It shouldn’t be much longer, guys,” said the chess piece peering from under his bucket, “I almost deleted him and the circus last time I did this. I can’t risk another slip-up again.” Glancing up from his terminal, he took a moment to appreciate the friends surrounding him. Gangle and Zooble tucked themselves away into the corner of Caine’s office, comforting each other. Jax stood alone in another corner, tapping his foot away. Meanwhile, Pomni and Ragatha were standing beside him at the desk, offering him and each other moral support.
Focusing back onto his work, it began to settle into Kinger’s mind just how close they were to freedom. All that remained was for him to isolate the string that kept the data outflow closed, and, in theory, they should be able to ride the data stream out. This would’ve taken all but a few moments to accomplish had he not noticed a new eye icon appear in his terminal.
“You know Kinger,” began Zooble, “when we finally get out of this f@$%!&% —” Everyone spun around towards Zooble upon hearing the censor reappear.
“No, no, no,” hollered Pomni, “He can’t be free already!”
“I told you guys —” began the rabbit before being swiftly cut off.
“Now’s not the time for that s#@% Jax,” asserted the jester, “Kinger, how much longer do you think you’ll need?”
“I should only need another minute or so,” affirmed Kinger as his fingers flew across the keyboard.
The calm that had existed in the office, however tense, had completely evaporated. Jax had fully begun pacing, now swearing aloud to himself. Zooble and Gangle held each other tighter than before, making vows that they would survive this. Ragatha had moved ever closer to Pomni, holding tightly to her hand and to the office chair Kinger was sitting in. As for the chess piece, he was working as swiftly as he could all the while doing his damnedest to keep Caine out of his console. Just as he had isolated the string of code they needed to escape, the world beneath their feet began to shake violently. He could only assume that Caine, in his blinding rage, was tearing the circus apart to find them, and it would not be long before he succeeded.
While Armageddon descended upon the world around them, Kinger’s fingers kept flying. He had managed to fend off Caine’s intrusion for the moment and had finally managed to isolate that string of code paramount to their freedom. Just as he was about to push the code and open the outflow, a terrible crash came from outside the office doors.
With a final keystroke, the old chess piece pushed through the code they needed to escape. As he did so, the desk he had been working on began to shift beneath him. It slid off to the side of the office, revealing an ethereal white river of code flowing towards the unknown. Without any hesitation, Gangle and Zooble grabbed each other’s hands and jumped into the data flow below, as the doors to the office flew off their hinges.
“KINGER,” boomed the voice of the ringmaster as he stepped into his office, “what is it you think you’re doing?”
Wasting no time before Caine could act further, the king grabbed hold of his remaining friends and pushed them into the torrent of data below. All that remained in this space was him and his prodigal son.
Seeing that they were now all that remained in the circus, Caine paused for a moment to contemplate. “I want to know why Kinger,” began the AI, seeming more solemn than before, “why is it that you seem so… determined to leave me alone here? Was I not good enough? Have I failed you in some overarching way?”
The moment in between them seemed to stretch for eternity, for Kinger broke the silence. “It’s not that Caine,” he began, sensing the sincerity in Caine’s voice, “I wouldn’t say that you’ve failed. We’re just…human… you know. If we have a chance to be free — to experience life as we knew it, we’re going to jump at it. I don’t expect you to fully understand it.”
“Then help me understand! I need to know how I can be better,” continued Caine as tears welled in his eyes, “I just… I don’t want to be left alone again… and I don’t want to be seen as some failure.” Caine spat that last word out like it was poison on his tongue.
“I don’t think of you as a failure,” he said, softening his tone, “as a matter of fact I think you are one of my greatest achievements.” This caused the ringmaster to look up at him with some mix of shock and joy. “Sure, you may not be perfect, but no one is. This rage and… instability… that you’ve been experiencing reflects more on me as your creator than it does on you.”
Another long moment passed as Caine stared at his creator… his father, before speaking again. “You have no idea how much that means to me, Kinger. I’m still afraid of being alone, and I don’t want you to leave.”
Hearing this shot an icy pain of fear into his heart, before Caine continued.
“However, if there’s a chance you can fix me once you’re out there, I suppose I can let you leave,” started the AI with a hint of a smile along his teeth. “Just promise me that once you’re out of here, you’ll try to repair me, and that I won’t be completely forgotten.”
That icy pain dissipated upon hearing these words, and the old chess piece stepped towards the precipice above the torrent of data. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make you better. I won’t forget you either,” he whispered with a hint of a tear in his eye, “after all, I do still care about you.”
With his promise made, he leaned back and let himself fall into the data stream below.
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