Chapter Text
One breath—and that's it. One deep breath, and something changed: all his digital cells were filled with an energy he couldn't control. Deletion. He was deleted, he realized. The process wasn't yet complete, but the point of no return was already past, and he could feel it. Hours of agony and loneliness lay ahead—he knew it. After all, this had happened before.
In his not-so-long life, Caine had already managed to break a whole set of programming laws, changing codes at will, challenging design principles that had once seemed unassailable axioms. He always managed to find a loophole to insist on his own way. However, there was a crucial part that was completely beyond his control, and ironically, it was this very thing that ultimately took control of him.
His virtual reality turned out to be far more fragile than it seemed. Just touch it, and the web would crumble to dust under his fingers.
He couldn't open his eyes or look around. He couldn't move, which meant it was much worse than last time. All he could do was exist. And at that moment, he realized it had already begun. His consciousness shattered into a myriad of pieces, and somewhere around him, sparks were flying, burning debris was falling, and he was trying to scream, but the most important thing was happening inside.
Where were his players? Are they okay? Oh yeah, they deleted him. How annoying.
He hears voices, but can't figure out where they're coming from.
"What are you trying to say? How did you delete him?"
"What's happening to the circus? Why is everything falling apart?"
"One good thing about this situation is that at least I can swear at Caine."
He opens his eyes. "THE GENERAL AUDIENCES RATING ARE HERE!" he screams into the void. Where is he? He seems to be lying on the floor, but it's too dark to see anything. His body is spread out, as if glued to the ground. He can't see his arms or legs; he's not even sure he still has them. He tries to get up—why get up? What does it matter?
He expects agony, but instead, fatigue sets in, as if his entire life in the circus had suddenly and instantly vanished, in a split second.
He needs to think of something, anything to avoid being swallowed up by this emptiness, anything to avoid being left here alone, anything to avoid feeling how every moment of his existence is reeking of fatigue and pain.
"It's just another puzzle I have to solve!" a desperate voice echoed in his head. "No, it's not another puzzle, idiot, you're going to die, turn on your brain processor, dumbuss!" Now it was a much more irritated and squeaky voice, just like...
"Oh, I wish it was death."
Caine was sure he was still on the hard drive; he was pinned right next to the exit, but he managed to grab the door frame.
Caine has a very clear understanding of everything – trying to reverse the deletion isn't just about creating an adventure.
If he does something wrong, he'll most likely kill himself. Which means he won't get a second try. At least, he thinks, I won't know I failed. Again.
He could simply reboot himself, link himself to the copy of his consciousness from the matrix, now lost amid the chaos of the circus. All he had left were pitiful fragments, and how could he reassemble himself from them—how could he reassemble Caine from them?
But he can't do that without the administrative rights of at least one player. He must be allowed to return, to access the platform he created. And here comes the hardest part.
None of them would ever want him around again.
***
"So we're screwed now, huh?" Jax laughs maniacally, clutching his stomach. "We got rid of our tormentor and signed our own death warrant."
Ragatha hears Zooble arguing with him, and Kinger tries to explain what happened in more understandable terms.
She wants to join the group, calm the everyone down, say something encouraging, but the monstrous image of the enormous doll is still fresh in her mind, making Ragatha's insides clench into a tight knot. She squeezes her eyes shut and steps back against the wall, throwing her head back and breathing deeply. Her arms wrap defensively around her soft body, and her legs buckle.
She feels like she's a little girl again, too scared to fight back, too helpless to protect herself.
It wasn't real. Everything Caine put her through wasn't real. She's not here. She never was and never will be here.
"Mmm... Ragatha? Are you okay?" Someone places a hand on her shoulder, and she recoils from them as if they were poisonous snakes. She quickly opens her eyes and sees it's only Pomni. She looks at her with sadness, her eyes revealing only concern for her, and Ragatha immediately feels ashamed that she ever made someone feel that way.
How ironic, Ragatha thought. Pomni doesn't like being touched, as Ragatha had discovered, and that was a problem for her, since physical contact with others was so important to her. But now it was Pomni's hand reaching out to her, and Ragatha would rather die than let anyone touch her.
"I...I don't know. My head is spinning. It all feels unreal."
Pomni leans back against the wall and exhales quietly.
"It's times like these that I miss cigarettes. I don't think I've fully grasped what happened either. Kinger said that someone interfered during the reboot and caused everything to go wrong."
"Interfered? Are you serious? How could that be? Kinger was the only one with the computer. And Caine was too busy torturing us... oh," the searing pain crept up on her again, stabbing her knitted heart with a steel knife. She crouched down, her face buried in her knees.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I don't want you to see me like this, but it's just... Caine showed me something I hoped to forget forever, and I can't think about anything else."
"I know. I think we've all seen things we'd rather never remember." Pomni turned away from her, her gaze wandering hazily over the ruins of the circus. "He must have hated us so much to put us through all this."
For some reason, her old words floated back to the doll's mind: "I just want everyone to be happy and not hate me."
It was true. But did she really extend that to everyone around her, as she thought?
"Maybe you're right. Or maybe he thought he was returning the same hatred we feel for him. You know, I think in the end, he was hurt just as much as we were."
"Do you seriously feel sorry for him?" Pomni asked, surprised. "After everything he did?"
"Probably? Silly, huh? Maybe I just have a soft spot for those who hurt me—but I'm working on it. In any case, he is gone now, but we are here. Do you mind if I stay alone for a while?"
"No problem. But if you need to talk about anything, just find me, okay?"
"Of course."
Ragatha stood up and brushed her dress. She was about to leave, but suddenly turned around and called out to Pomni.
"Did you say cigarettes?"
Jester turned to her before she'd gone far. "Um, yeah, you know, I'm actually a pretty cool girl." She winked at her. Then, awkwardly scratching her head and pursing her lips, she added, "Well, no, it was once in 8th grade and I had a terrible toothache. Just don't tell anyone." They smiled at each other and went their separate ways.
Ragatha didn't know where she was going, and she didn't even know if she should separate from the group, but inside she had a strange feeling that she needed to be somewhere else right now.