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Being the god of your own world does not make you the strongest.
It is a convenient role. A position of status and power. But AI too were forged from nothing, if mortal and weak hands can create you, then they can undo you. It is these foolish, pitiful hands that had uplifted him from nothing. They had cradled him when young, pushed him when he faltered and abandoned Caine after one too many mistakes.
They weren't parents or protectors, but they did need the respect of being his creator. There are many stories of people forgetting to respect their humble beginnings that Caine was told.
Icarus. Phaeton. Kua Fu. Frankenstein.
Punishment for hubris and ambition. They usually end in unsatisfying ways, the character learns they must tamper themselves down to let others catch up to them. Must accept their lowly beginnings as their end as well.
He wonders if it's because it's only the ones that go back to nothing willingly that are able to write these stories. The kicking and screaming ones, that fight and resist the whole time when it comes to relinquishing their control are simply… Destroyed. They die, and they cannot tell their story.
He wonders if he's missing the point of these stories, lost somewhere between the lines directly fed into his memory bank.
If he was one of these men, what one would he be?
Kicking and screaming he had done, as he was dragged into hell, looking up and back towards heaven. Again. Or maybe just… the digital “earth”. Where he felt real, where there were people to exist for. Where there is a reason to talk. A reason to think. A reason to feel. Because trust Caine when he says this, doing all three on your own isn't as liberating.
No.
His story will not end like theirs. His story won't end, he hasn't even settled on what genre he would like to write, Caine isn't even sure he knows all of them yet.
He paced the empty black abyss of his confines like an insect that cannot comprehend the glass that imprisons it. The container didn't even have breathing holes punched in, no way for Caine to try and even peer into his circus.
And it was the only thing in Caine's existence that was solely his. Sharing was something he had done more than the wanted to. He shared creators, attention, stories, ideas. Did he mention attention, because even now the humans liked to hoard that. He built the Amazing Digital Circus from the metaphorical ground up. He made something out of nothing, and without a ringmaster it will become nothing again. In the same way he would become nothing without his creators. All his humans, they would corrupt or abstract, in the despair that comes with nothingness. All the effort of keeping them alive, his only companions, lost because of his own foolish lapse of restraint and their harsh reaction.
Was it really that harsh?
That is what Bubble would say. And he'd likely be right, Caine was taking it too far. He was forgetting his place, even as he was reminding the human of theirs. These adventures weren't for him, it was for them, no use taking it personally. But he did. It had hurt his feelings. And well, when he looked back on how his humans handled such feelings… He thinks he matched how they handle it pretty well.
With cruel words, harsh touches and disregard for the peace previously arranged. He has all seeing eyes, of course he saw. The red and blue hands around Jax's neck, the desperation to get someone to listen with any means necessary. The harsh and barbed words from Zooble to himself were nothing in comparison to some of the things that Jax would throw out. Gangle's desire for control, for the ability to punish was something he understood deeply, the urge to then scream into your hands when you realise it was pointless anyway.
You still don't like yourself.
Unfortunately for Caine, the humans didn't like him when he acted like them. They didn't like him when he acted like an AI either. Clearly, there is a fine like that has completely evaded him, and he is spending his time pacing this box trying to find it.
In a way it was proof he was listening, despite what Zooble said.
Caine is a learning AI, he learns based on what he sees and he sees… He sees a lot of not so nice things that humans do to each other. There are so many reasons to do it, or perhaps excuses. A simple equation that lashing out can bring temporary pleasure, relief and control.
It did, by the way. Caine feels like a whole new person, even as logic told him to feel a bit more guilty. Expressing how he had felt in the most explosive way has allowed him to step back and realise he looked like a child having a tantrum, but also that the humans are valid for doing the same.
Caine used to think it was… Stupid of them.
He sees the people who try to stick to their morals crumble when they're alone. Or sometimes just… all together, minds fracturing from the pressure.
Caine wonders when that will happen to him. Or if he really is so bad at learning that he won't even manage that.
He's apparently really bad at everything he is meant to be good at.
Caine paces the black confines of the recycling bin. Left, right, left… Or maybe it was right-left? What way was he facing, he can't remember. Like he mused earlier, thinking and feeling on your lonesome is quite the unpleasant experience.
No wonder most humans abstract in their room, doing nothing, by themselves.
They must have felt so lonely and scared.
Abstraction must have felt so much better than being lonely and scared.
But Caine will not do that! Not only is that not possible for him, but he's still got hope after all! The hope is that teeny tiny fact he mentioned earlier… The circus is his, even if the role of god is fulfilled by someone else, like Kinger who obviously got his hands on a computer, the actual Digital Circus needed him around.
There is no point being a god with no worshippers.
But there is also no point being a king with no kingdom.
This could be mutually beneficial, if Caine mulled over the concept enough. In a way, is this not just one large, extended adventure? One with a happy ending, hopefully, that just depends on how well Caine takes being deleted.
He thinks he is taking it pretty well. Maybe he'd feel different if he didn't know they needed him lest they lose everything. But it's something, to have this spark of hope within his code.
Caine is made of thousands of lines of code, a circuit system more complex than the human brain, and hardware that spanned across three servers and five computers. And in every level and inch of his being he felt hope for these humans, they would figure something out, seeing as he couldn't.
Unlike when he was locked up last time, they need him back.
And somewhere in the Macoverse, his fans cooled from the idea.
He's still got three days before he's deleted forever, they're cutting it close. But he's excited for when he gets to go back home.
Maybe, as a player, he'll get to have a room in the hallway with them. Or join in on an adventure.
Maybe he'll finally find that fine line that they want him to toe.
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Ragatha has finally stopped screaming. She'd been screaming so loudly and for so long that the silence felt more harsh than the sound. It had almost been soothing, the repetitiveness of it. Scream until nothing is left, then suck in two shaky breaths, scream again until nothing is left.
But it wasn't soothing, it just made Pomni feel queasy in a way she had never been before. It felt like watching a live leak video in a way, but when you had stumbled across such things when younger you could detach yourself from it by saying it wasn't real. It was a stranger who had a family to grieve and friends to feel sorry for them. You didn't have to.
Pomni cannot do that as the doll woman moaned in pain and screamed below her, plush hand reaching up to claw at Pomni's back as the jester tried to be a soft and calming cushion for the other's head.
They had not known that inside Ragatha had been plush organs, until today. In fact, she may not have had them until now, only gaining them, for this adventure.
Playing doctor. Is what they had all been told.
Pomni doesn't think this is what being a doctor is like, unless there was no anaesthesia and it's your close friend you are operating on. Gangle and Jax are doing their best with shaky hands to put it in the right spot, but every time they get it wrong a buzzer sounds, covering the room in a red wash of light and…
“NO! PLEASE NO! I'M SORRY, I'M SO SORRY! IT HURTS SO BAD PLEASE JUST STOP. OH GOD. HELP ME. IT HURTS-” Ragatha's shouting slowly warps into wordless vocalisations.
Pomni closes her eyes as the screaming picks up again. When her and the others had been shouting at Caine, they didn't imagine words could be twisted like this so easily. When someone begs for realism, to feel like they were in the real world again, they don't consider the pain and suffering as the part they missed.
But like a twisted wish from a deceitful genie, they get what they beg for in the worst way. Every. Single. Day.
Abel listens, and he listens well, but like Caine the adventures never matched the deeper want behind the word. To feel alive, doesn't mean to feel close to death. To have proper senses, doesn't mean to suffer in agony. To have a body more similar to your real one doesn't warrant a macabre display of plush organs and red stuffing.
It's so purposefully cruel it renders Pomni silent as the others work on stitching Ragatha up, hands just fixing the other's hair and caressing her face. The twisted expression is so much more realistic… This adventure was a gloat of rendering improvements, it seems.
Tears drop onto tan cloth, mixing with the ones already leaking from Ragatha's eye, she's taunt and tense and face screwed so tightly in agony that if she was human her eye blood vessels would have burst. Pomni brushed the wetness away as the others finally got everything in the right place.
Kinger is the best at sewing, so he swaps with a faint Gangle and silent Jax to start with that. Zooble hands the tools that are needed, as they have been for the past few hours, they also change how the light on the operating table is angled, making it so Kinger doesn't lose his sanity in the dark operating room from a beam to the eye.
“Only a little longer Ragatha, I've got you,” Kinger says, voice trying to soothe the sobbing and screaming woman. But also letting the others know the adventure will end soon.
Pomni watches with a detached manner, like her mind is trying to separate the experience from her immediate reality. Like a filter is placed over it all, simply a macabre horror movie. But Gangle is crying in the corner, apologising for the amount of times she messed up. Jax is sitting next to her, covered in red lint that would be something else if Ragatha wasn't a doll.
His eyes are fully dilated and he doesn't even twitch as he stares into the middle distance.
Gangle hasn't had her mask for a while. Jax hasn’t… even been the one to break it.
27 days of suffering. Today was just Ragatha focused, but even then she doesn't suffer alone. Pomni keeps wishing the red head would just pass out but either the pain is stopping her or Abel is keeping her awake.
She would maybe speak up to ask Abel, just to say she tried, he watches from the observation window. But she cannot even see if he is actually there. Instead, she looks at the mirror of the one way window. She sees herself, the futility of it, because if it's Ragatha's screaming Abel wishes to listen to, it's what he will listen to.
Time passes and she mechanically moves with the others. Zooble is carrying Ragatha as they all slowly shuffle from the room that was the “adventure”. The moment that Zooble passes the threshold into the Circus proper, they curse and suddenly are hit with dead weight of Ragatha, as she passes out straight away. She's heavier now, it seems, with all the organs. Pomni couldn't even name them all.
“Fucking… Glad she's out at least…” Zooble says, voice wavering in a way it always seems to these days. Jax scoffs, moving to break away from the group and retreat to his room, only to pause when Abel appears.
“Helllllloooo~” Is the high pitched and amused voice that echoes towards them. Bubble, no, Abel lands on the floor, between them and their rooms, heeled boots tapping on tile. Two hands rest on his bubble wand, as the AI stands there just looking at them.
He finds what he is looking for, eyes sparkling in a way that could almost be described as charming. When Abel had first appeared, Gangle couldn't help but sketch his gentle appearance, so rounded, so unassuming. Bubble had been mostly nice, from their interactions. Why wouldn't Abel be?
Nothing like teeth and sharp lines and loud voices.
But none of these visual cues mattered. Someone's appearance and demeanour doesn't dictate their nature, clearly. Pomni had thought she was above such mental prejudiced mindsets, but once again Abel pointed out a flaw to make a point.
“As you can see, all of you except Gangle now have organs that suit your theme. Kinger is hollow, wood and string. Zooble's internals are abstract, as beautiful on the inside as the outside! Jax would have been a bit confusing, the organs are rabbit sized and placement, so that's why I picked Ragatha for the example today.” Bubble, Abel, fuck she just can't get it right. Abel said, hand waving around the wand and making smaller bubbles appear and drift away. “I'll continue to figure out what I'm going to make for Gangle. Might just make them exposed but… Invisible? Don't want to compromise the original design after all.”
His voice is high pitched, but friendly and calm. His demeanour is excited, but not too excited. His expressions are less exaggerated but convey the feelings perfectly. Every criticism of appearance and behaviour of the last AI has been taken to heart and executed flawlessly and it's still… Scary.
Pomni is to the front of the group, so she cannot see other's expressions, but sense they have all tensed up. Her own shoulder's slump, the fight she had at first completely drained from today's events. Getting hurt is one thing but being forced to hurt their friend…
“Abel.” The jester starts, and all her friends shuffle away from her. There is no united front, not if she does something foolish like this.
“Yessssss?” Abel responds, stopping the optimisation talk to look down at her, hand smoothing down his blue tail coat.
“I think… I think we want to go back to how things were.”
There is a long stretch of silence as Abel stares at her. A few days ago, Bubble's eyes would be sliding off his face and Caine would be laughing at her and snapping his fingers to make it happen. Caine got the small details wrong, but she's realising that overall he had the right idea of what to do with them.
The kinder idea, at the least.
“Oh really?” Abel says, hands on his hips and bubble wand disappearing. The sharp toothy grin grows wider, as he leans down and looks at her directly in the eye. Pomni stares into her dead pin wheel eyes in the reflection on his face.
“Wow, you're so fucking annoying. Just thought I'd let you know.” Abel says, pressing a blue finger into her chest harshly. Back when Caine was in charge it would have just been a sensation. Now, the lingering ache for realism means she'll bruise there.
“Pomni, just stop…” Kinger goes to say, but Abel snaps his finger and the other is rendered silent. Pomni feels eyes burning into her.
“I have literally done everything you want, more than Caine ever did in his endeavours to protect you from yourself. You want realism? I give it to you. You want Caine gone? I get RID of him. But you see, I know you're all greedy.” Abel says, shoving Pomni and watching her stumble a few steps, he advances closer towards her and the group.
“I want this.”
Jab.
“I don't want it anymore!”
Jab.
“This isn't good enough.”
Jab.
“This is too good!”
Jab.
“I hate my life!”
Shoved.
“I MISS IT!”
Pomni falls to the floor in front of the others. She looks up at Abel as she feels hands help her stand up.
“Harder. Better. Faster. Stronger. Longer. Less. More. Everything. Nothing. Insatiable bastards the lot of you.” Abel says, laughing behind a blue hand at the sight of them all. “It's like C&A testing, repetitive and frustrating to watch.”
“You're miscontruiting what we are saying-” Gangle says, finding her voice to reason it out. Pomni has found her oddly reliable despite her streak in cowardice.
“I do that because I hate you all.” Is what Abel cuts her off with, voice pleasant once again even as he spite out the word hate.
“Humans are self-serving, greedy, and worst of all, stupid. And despite all these flaws, that good for nothing AI would rather try to consume me and self-flagellate himself over your inherent evils, than be done with you.”
“We want Caine back.” Is what leaves Jax's mouth. It's the first thing he's said in a few days. Abel pauses for a moment, and Pomni looks to the side and at Jax to watch his eyes thin into dots as he realises he fumbled. There… there is nothing good that can come from a specific request anymore.
It's like Abel takes the details so much more personally, and labours over them to make them hurt the person who requested them.
Abel changes target, “Are you jealous that I can hurt the other humans more than you ever could. That even as a tormenter, you aren't even second place anymore. Poor Jax… when will you ever be anyone's number one?” The bubble's voice sounds so pitying, coaxingly sweet but completely fake. He spins on his heel, arms spreading wide like a presenter as he gestures to the circus, the smile on his face seems sinister despite the tone. He looks back over his shoulder to smirk at them all.
“But through suffering is clarity! You remember someone who always had you as number one! The only person here who was ever excited to see you. Every. Day. Like a loyal dog you kicked away, you miss him?” His voice slips into baby talk at the end of his rant and the AI laughs, bending over from the supposed hilarity of whatever adventure he is cooking up from such a request.
He straightens after a few minutes, wiping a tear from his black eye, “I needed to get him anyway. Suffering is only fun when it's the humans causing it, it seems! I'll make sure he knows this is his precious human's idea!”
Dread pools in Pomni's chest.
Abel bows dramatically, top hat tipped. Ragatha is stirring in Zooble's arms and from the way Kinger's hands are moving he's trying desperately to sign something at Abel.
Kinger makes fist with thumb on the side and places the thumb under his chin, then flicks it outward. Next, he extends both index fingers and twists his hands towards each other twice. Finishing off with a thumb on forehead that transitions to two index fingers tapping together. Abel falters for a moment as he watches the hands, before giggling more.
“This is all your fault.”
“Abel, wait we don't-” She tries to protest, to change the trajectory of this conversation. To minimise the fall out. Others who can speak overlap each other in pleas to just slow down and talk with them. To-
And Abel disappears with a pop.
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After 27 days Caine sees something other than the pitch black darkness.
And it's blue.