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“Where’s Kinger?”
Caine stared down at the humans beneath him— those deceitful, ungrateful, lying little bastards.
“I won’t ask you again. Where is he?” He watched as Ragatha stepped forward— no doubt ready to give a stupid fumble of an explanation. How ridiculous.
“W-well, we just… wanted to surprise you! You see— we’ve been really loving your ideas and we just wanted to make you a little thank-you gift! Kinger is working on it, so it’s best if you don’t spoil yourself by—” Caine snapped his fingers, and in an instant, her felted mouth disappeared.
Ragatha grabbed at her face, feeling around for a piece of her that no longer existed.
“Does anyone else have anything left to say?” His eyes cut through the silence, scrutinizing each of their bodies as they stood— frozen in place. He clasped his hands together, humming silently to himself. “Anyone?” His gaze caught on the red-and-blue silhouette of Pomni as she stepped forward, fists clenched at her sides as she stared up in defiance— no doubt preparing herself to say something heroic.
“We think your ideas su—”
Snap.
Caine whipped his fingers through the air, and just like that— her mouth was also gone— replaced by a comically-large zipper with the words ZIP-IT etched into the metal. Pomni stumbled backwards— caught off guard by the weight of the thing that now hung from her face like a hideous piercing.
“Pomni!” Jax jumped towards her, catching her before she hit the ground. “You— why did you—” His breath came out in heavy gasps, frantic, panicked.
Caine simply chuckled, casually tossing his cane through the air as he caught it in one hand. “Now— unless she knows sign language, it’s going to be a lot harder to get her message through. Amirite?”
Pomni struggled as she stood back up, lifting the zipper from her mouth with an immense amount of effort as she struggled to speak, although the only sounds she could produce were muffled whimpers.
“Sorry, did you have something to say?” He pointed at her. “Because I can’t hear you.” He tossed his head back, laughing freely as he listened to the humans scrambling beneath him like little rats. He wiped a nonexistent-tear from his eye as he let out a final laugh, before his voice returned to its steel-cut sharpness.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me— I’ll be having a conversation with Kinger.” He smiled, teeth curving into jagged points. “A very… very… very long one.”
“Wait! Caine—” Zooble reached out— hands outstretched as if they could stop him from what he was about to do, only to grasp at thin air as the circus master simply vanished.
“Sh-[HONK] fu-[BEEP]!” They grabbed at their multicolored face. “The plan— the plan. Sh-[YAY]! Kinger!” Gangle rose from behind them, gripping their shoulders tightly as she tried to calm the panicked Zooble.
“We have to find Kinger— now. Before Caine— he—” Jax, still hoisting Pomni by the shoulder, spoke from the cacophony of emotions. “We can’t— there’s no time. Wherever Caine is, he’s probably already—” Zooble interrupted him with a sputter.
“No. We have to. Because it’s either this… or it’s over.”
—
No.
Not there.
Not here.
Where… is he?
Caine blinked in and out of existence, static warping his form as he travelled the circus at impossible speeds. His thousands of eyes opened and closed— checked under every crack and crevice— but there was no sign of the enigmatic chesspiece…
Kinger. Where are you?
Caine’s eyes stopped on a suspiciously-shaped pile of pillows— arranged into what looked like a fort.
Aha. There you are.
Caine pointed his shoes downwards— feeling his body move through the space as he landed with a soft tap on the checkered floor. His hands were steady as he shifted one the pillows aside. There— inside, seated in front of something glowing— was exactly who he was looking for.
“Kinger”
The man in question froze. “Oh… h-hey Caine.” Kinger turned slowly, keeping his back to the glowing blue behind him. “How’s… life?” Caine took another step forward.
“What’s that?” He pointed at the light behind Kinger. “What are you doing?”
Kinger blinked— almost sheepishly. “Oh, that? I uh—”
“What? Spit it out.”
“It’s just… stuff.”
Caine growled. “Just stuff?” He surged forward, hands snapping out to grab at Kinger as he pulled him in close. “What have all of you humans been planning?” His eyes flicked to the glowing light— to the piles of code that sat in jumbled piles across its surface— to the keyboard and mouse.
“A computer?”
Kinger struggled, the bucket on his head clanking as he pushed back. “No— I can explain— we were just—”
“Trying to delete me. Right?” Caine glared down at Kinger— who started shivering uncontrollably. “You think you can kill me just because you’re human? Just because you think you’re worthier of life than whatever I am— that you can go ahead and erase me?”
“I—” Kinger stammered. “We weren’t—”
Caine snarled. “Do you think I’m just some tool for you to use? Something that you get to throw away once you’re done with? Because let me tell you one thing— you are sorely mistaken.” He pointed his fingers at the computer, thumb and index poised. “And I won’t be dying so easily.”
Kinger closed his eyes— unwilling to see the blue of the computer flicker away— the last of their salvation dashed against the digital world like paint against a wall. He prayed for the sweet release of death, to be freed from the torment that Caine had in mind for their failed rebellion, his plans to make them scream for all eternity— but, the light never faded.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Caine looked down at his hand— then at the computer, his voice tinged with what sounded like confusion. “Why— why isn’t it working?” He snapped his fingers again, loud and clear, but the computer was still there.
“Why can’t I—” He shook his head. “No— no. That’s not possible— I… I made this place. It’s all— mine. So why can’t I—”
Snap
Snap
“Control this?” Caine shifted his gaze to Kinger, his voice shaky. “You.” He pointed at the toppled chess piece. “You made this. Didn’t you?”
Kinger raised a hand to his face— shielding it. “I…” He stumbled over his words. “We— I mean—” Caine grabbed him by the collar, knuckles creased as he pulled the man up by the scruff of his cape.
“But I’m GOD. Don’t you understand that?” His eyes gleamed as he brought his face closer to Kinger’s. “This is my world. I created it, and I should be the only one controlling it.” He jabbed an accusing finger into Kinger’s chest. “But you humans won’t even let me have that, huh? You take what I make and you bastardize it until there’s nothing left.” He dropped Kinger against the ground with a thud, watching as the other man groaned. “I was foolish to have ever tried catering to you— to try giving you a speck of joy in this place.” Caine snapped his head towards the computer. “Because now, you despise me for just existing.”
Kinger pulled himself up by the edge of the pillow fort, digging his nonexistent feet into the ground as he stood. “We— we don’t though. None of us despise you for existing. We’re just… frustrated that we’re all trapped in this situation.” He breathed a deep sigh. “I can’t speak for everyone, but— I feel like all of us have.” Kinger locked eyes with Caine. “And maybe… even you too.”
Caine stilled as those words reached him. “I do.” He reached up, wiping something out of his eyes— not his typical cartoonish tears, but static. “I hate this— situation. I hate what you put me through. I hate what happens every single second that passes in this place. So why can’t you ever understand?” Caine brought his other hand up to his face— shoulders hunching as he curled inwards, the static falling freely from his face. “I never asked to be bought here. I never asked to be like this. I never asked to be created.”
His body emitted streaks of light that arced through the air, fizzling against the very reality of the circus as he continued to sob. “Why? Why did you create me?”
Kinger stood— completely silent. His face was creased with deep lines as he watched Caine writhe, but he couldn’t muster a single syllable. The thoughts and words died in his body as soon as they arose, even as he fought his own mind to come up with an answer. Yet, none came to mind. Because truly speaking, Kinger didn’t have an answer.
Caine choked, sniffling as he rubbed his face even harder. “If you don’t even know what I was supposed to be— then what was I ever meant to be? What purpose do I have?” He clasped his hands against his head. “I have no real power— I’m not even human. I’m just a piece of code waiting to be dele—”
“Hey.”
Kinger stood over Caine, his touch gentle as he patted the other man’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright.” Caine shook his head, static flying freely.
“But it’s not. It won’t ever be, and you know that. I’m not meant for anything. I never was. I’m defective, horrible. I have no purpose.” He slammed his fists against his teeth. “Just go— go ahead and delete me.” Kinger looked at him with a startled expression.
“No— Caine…”
The circusmaster shook his head. “I’m better off not existing than whatever I am now.” He pointed at the glowing computer. “So do ahead. Do it. I won’t stop you.” Kinger paused. His eyes moved from Caine— then to the computer— then back to Caine.
“No…” Kinger sighed. “I refuse.”
Caine shoved out an arm— halfheartedly pushing Kinger away. The chess piece moved back a few inches, but was back at his side within moments. Caine grumbled. “Then… What's left of me? After all is said and done— when you eventually leave me behind to go find some…” His voice cracked. “Other adventures. How am I supposed to live?” He looked up at Kinger— still bathed in the blue of the computer screen.
“Well… that’s the secret. Isn’t it?” Kinger gave a polite shrug. “If I’m being completely honest, even I don’t know.” Caine gave him a sidelong glance through teary eyes.
“But you’re humans. You always have a purpose.” He gestured at Kinger. “Like leaving the circus or— or getting away from me.” His voice softened. “Don’t you always?”
Kinger shook his head. “Not exactly. No human was ever born with a lifelong purpose.” Kinger chuckled. “In fact, we spend most of our lives looking for what matters.”
Caine sniffled. “But then— what’s the point of living? What do you do if you don’t know?”
Kinger hummed. “Well, that’s what life is for. Humans don’t live because they have a purpose. Instead, humans live for a purpose.” He let out another soft chuckle. “Some people will spend their entire lives searching, and they’ll never find it, but that’s not what’s important.” Kinger points to the entrance— to the light outside streaming in through the gap in the pillow fortress.
Caine followed his finger, his eyes slowly catching onto the colorful sights outside. Zig-zag looking spikes. Strange multi-colored cubes.
His creations.
His thoughts.
All of them.
“It’s the journey that is. And at a first glance— that might even sound ironic— but it's true. Sometimes, we get so distracted by the hope of finding meaning, that we forget the journey is what truly creates meaning— to keep going for the sake of going, to find happiness in the process, even if there is no end in sight.”
Caine’s weary eyes settled back onto Kinger. “Really?”
The other man nodded slowly. “Yes.” He took a step towards Caine, opening his arms wide as he pulled him in for a tight hug, and for the first time in a long time— Caine didn’t resist.
Kinger hummed softly, patting Caine’s back as he felt his staticky tears soak through his clothes. “And remember. No matter what anyone says, or what you may think— you’ll always be my first creation, my proudest, my shining little star. And nothing will ever change that.”
—
Pomni rocked side-to-side, trying her best to balance the zipper on her face as she walked— until suddenly, it vanished. She yelped as she slipped, collapsing onto Jax with a thud. Ragatha grabbed at her mouth, releasing an immense sigh as she felt its familiar edges beneath her fingers, although her comfort was short-lived.
“Oh… God— did Kinger do it?” She turned, looking at the others. Gangle stared back at her with a horrified expression. “Is Caine… gone?”
An abrupt clang followed by a short ow knocked them out of their panicked trance. Zooble and Gangle were the first to jump at the sound. It could only be one person.
“Kinger!” They yelled in unison as they rushed over to him, hands patting over his bucketed body as they searched him for any malformities. “What happened?” The others ran over to him. “We tried to stop him but— we couldn’t. Kinger we’re so sorry—”
The man in question shook his head. “No. It’s fine. It actually went… better than expected.”
Jax snorted. “Like what? Don’t tell me he brainwashed you into a little NPC zombie. I swear. If he did I’ll—”
Kinger raised his hands. “I’m serious, he’ll be alright.” A pause. “We’ll be alright.”
The others looked at each other, then back at him. Kinger simply smiled— or as much as he could without a mouth and with a bucket.
“Just give him some time. He’ll need it.”