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It felt... strange. There was this feeling that she had simply overplayed a game and was now looking back at the real world with a weird sensation of being... a stranger to it? To the real world? It all seemed like just a dream—two days that had felt like weeks, like months in the Circus (they hadn't any calendar there to check the time anyway), turned out to be just... two days of her absence. And legally days off, by the way, which meant no one had even worried about her at work. Only the feeling of intense hunger, numb limbs, and the memories that hadn't disappeared anywhere were cruel reminder of everything that had happened to her. To her mind.
The VR headset, its lenses were still faintly showing the Circus decorations, seemed to smirk and beckon her back into its world. Reality, however, turned out to be more gray and dark: an old computer, a dusty desk, her familiar room. It was impossible to make out due to the lack of light. The girl tried to blink and adjust to the darkness, but unsuccessfully, shifting her gaze to the virtual reality headset. Had she just wanted to try a new game? Had someone sent her this headset? Was it someone's human experiment? Or a very long, realistic dream that lasted a couple of days? Despite her curiosity, she didn't want to put the headset on again — she had playd with fate enough. Enough.
*
"And they scared us so much with abstracting! Well, how about that... I'd forgotten what it feels like... and where am I, by the way? Is this... do I live here?"
The guy looked around the room in bewilderment. Probably, this was his room, he'd just gotten too used to the Circus, the decorations, his room there, so the real world had been slightly forgotten. He'd like to believe it was just a little bit.
He still remembered how the ground gave way beneath his feet, how everything went dark in his eyes, and how colorful lights ran wildly, fell, grabbed onto each other, not letting him focus on reality. Reality... if you could even call it like that, probably. Although, it all felt quite real: how the black shackles crept disgustingly over his arms, not allowing him to even move, how his breath hitched, his neck was squeezed, the growths of eyes tore his body apart and settled on his skin like a crust. It hurt. It was terrifying. His chest tightened, and his lungs felt like they were tearing apart simultaneously, a haze clouded his vision and prevented him from concentrating on what was happening. The Circus decorations around him spun in a bizarre dance, not even trying to help one poor, little character. Well, he won't be in the Circus anymore, no big loss for them. There will be new characters. There always will be, and they won't leave, they'll be terrified by the impossibility of finding an exit and losing their minds. Horror.
Dust flew in the air and clogged his lungs, the fabric of the blanket was cold and rough, his dirty, long-unwashed hair fell onto his face, but this somehow strangely calmed him. He is here. He's... home. In reality. Finally. A sad glance fell on the computer monitor, but the guy immediately looked away. No. They'll manage on their own. He had suffered enough, he'd had his fill, warning them was simply unsafe, and what for? They were just a bunch of cartoon characters, the pain of abstracting was phantom anyway, more psychological. They were nothing to him, so let them find their own way out. He didn't care, and he wouldn't, and...
Pomni. Pomni...
She... she had also found her "exit" from the circus back then, he remembered. In the fog, in the searing pain, he had seen, he had known, he... rather felt, that she...must be here too. In this world. The real one. Well-well, she said she explored abandoned places and had a YouTube channel about it? Interesting, what this little girl (she's older than him, but whatever) is like in real life. Then again...
Did he even care? Fear still reminded him of itself with a slight tremble, and the familiar name spinning in his head was just a frightening reminder of the nightmare he'd lived through.
*
Her legs could barely hold her: they had gone numb and weakened severely after the uncomfortable pose, in which she stayed for two days. Her hand reached for the switch. A click — and the room was flooded with a harsh, unnaturally yellow light. She squinted. Dust danced in the beam, settling on the keyboard, the monitor, on those cursed glasses. The fug. But also a familiar place. Her own room. Everything was so... human. Too real after the riot of colors of the Circus. Here, it smelled of dirt on the table, cold tea, and loneliness. However Circus smelled like... madness? A sweetish smell of candies, confetti and electric current. Although, if to think about it, it wasn't like the actuall smell there, maybe it was a trick of the brain. Everything was just a trick of the brain, yes! Just a long, strange, very realistic game, clearly some kind of psychological horror disguised as a cute children's game.
The girl slowly sat back down on the bed, her body aching in protest. Two days of immobility. Although, it felt like an eternity. Her brain still refused to draw a line between that weird "dream" and the place she was in now. She was Pomni, she knew that. But she also wasn't. That was just a made-up name given to her by a strange program. And yet, the digital name echoed in her skull, both foreign and familiar at the same time. It had come with pain, fear, and...memories.
Only now her brain, apparently, agreed to what had happened. Her friends, they... were they still there, in the circus? Did they know how to get out? Did they know there was an exit? What about Ragatha? And Gangle, and Zooble? What about Kinger, who had been there longer than anyone else? Could they still be helped? What about the abstracted people? Or were they in reality too?
Jax...
Where was he? Abstracted? Still there? Or, by monstrous irony, was he also somewhere here, in this gray world, dusting off the digital dust and trying to remember how to breathe? Maybe even curse without censorship? Was he also feeling his body again, remembering how to speak?
She didn't want to know. Absolutely. At all.
*
The thought lodged itself in his brain like some persistent fly that really enjoyed flying in circles at night, specifically over his ceiling. Annoying, stupid, irritating, and yet immortal, because it evaded the flyswatter and buzzed louder. The guy hated annoyance, both in that damn circus and here, where emotional pain felt much more unpleasant. But even more, he hated uncertainty. Nothing would happen if he got curious, right? He just needed to find the channel, check out the girl, maybe see if she'd written anything lately. Just to make sure she was okay, right? It didn't matter, he just needed to confirm that there was nothing special about Pomni... whatever her real name was. Needed to find out she was just a person like him, be disappointed, smirk, and go do adult real-world things that had surely piled up during his absence. If only he could remember who he was before the Circus... that digital crap had really eaten away at his brain. The guy lazily moved to the desk, pulled the keyboard closer, clicked the mouse, and the monitor came to life, illuminating his pale (because of the exhaustion) face with a cold blue light. Search. "Abandoned places YouTube." Hundreds of channels. His eyes frantically scanned the avatars, filtering them out. He was looking for her. That nervousness in her eyes, but also pure curiosity. That fear and willpower at the same time.
And he found it. A channel with a poor number of subscribers and a lack of views on the videos. "Forgotten Worlds." On the thumbnail—a girl in a dark windbreaker at the entrance to some ruined factory. She was… ordinary. Pretty. To be honest, even somewhat remotely similar to her jester avatar. Maybe it was the way her hair fell, or her cheeks gave it away, or maybe her eyes and slight smile really said more about the person than it seemed. No jester's caps, no exaggerated scared expression. But those eyes... In her eyes was the same depth, the same wariness as Pomni's. He recognized them instantly. It was her. No doubt.
The guy scrolled through a few videos. The girl in them spoke clearly, a bit haltingly, but with genuine interest and curiosity. She filmed on an old camera, the editing was simple. This was her. Real. Not some pixelated doll, but a living person.
This realization made him feel...something. There, in the Circus, she had been understandable, predictable in her unpredictability. But this… this was more complicated. More real. He would say better, if he weren't experiencing so many mixed, confusing feelings. Different emotions piled onto the guy with every word she said, every movement and smile, though outwardly he remained impassive, trying to suppress the interest and new, strange, too frightening feelings deep inside. He looked at her, "eating" every movement of her hands, her voice, and every word she said.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. A habitually cynical joke begged to come out, his favorite mask of mockery that had saved him more than once. But something inside resisted. The memory of how she had looked at him back then, when they spoke for the last time, after another adventure—not with fear, but with a scary, almost pitiful understanding... Back when she saw not just Jax, not a purple bunny in a game. She saw… him. Behind the avatar, she had always seen only a human, just like her, just temporarily stuck in the Circus, just a guy who chose to pretend so he wouldn't go insane. And she understood him.
In the end, they were both okay now, right? Showing emotions was still not an option, and it would be weird anyway, they hadn't known each other that long, even if they'd been through so much, but... maybe just show her he was alive? Maybe find out if she was alive? They'd talk, she'd try to pry things out of him again, and he'd laugh, joke, dodge answers and tease her... Nothing more. Nothing serious, just... just to remember that the Circus wasn't a strange dream, wasn't an illusion of his or a fantasy of a sick psyche. That it all really happened, and they too... were real.
The guy slowly typed the first comment. Little dry, almost technical comment about the location in one of her recent videos. And he added a slight hint of himself. So no one would understand except her. If she understood, if he wasn't mistaken, if she answered...
The username smirked with an avatar of a white rabbit on a purple background next to the dry nickname "Jax". It was a good idea to come up with a nickname like that and use it in the circus. Almost like a second name, since he couldn't remember his real one. Nerves scratched at his soul with claws, he wanted to retreat, forget it like a nightmare, close the computer, leave and finally start living his usual life, but... His fingers slipped, pressing "Send". It was just a slight, almost imperceptible poisonous note that no one but her could possibly understand.
Jax
«Interesting place. Reminds me of a certain... digital dead end. You can only get out if you're very lucky. Or unlucky. Depends on your point of view.»
The guy leaned back in his chair. Stupid. Hopelessly stupid. But still, if you thought about it, damn amusing. Now the ball was in her court. On the one hand, he was annoyed by the warmth that suddenly spread through his veins after sending the message, but on the other hand, a smile didn't leave his face. At least it was fun.
*
A notification on her computer made her flinch. She was drinking freshly brewed tea, trying to warm her hands that had gone numb from the inside, and was staring blankly at the wall.
How could anyone just exist calmly after everything that had happened to her?
And who could even text her at a time like this? The notification was from her channel. Someone had commented. On one of the recently uploaded videos. Unusual for someone to be interested in her content, but it was nice. Yeah, her channel wasn't exactly popular, comments were a rarity, so it was even pleasant to open the comment to see...
Digital...dead end... get out.... Jax.
Username Jax.
With a rabbit avatar.
Digital dead end, digital dead end...
The comment seemed ordinary, but the wording… was too sharp, almost mocking in its simplicity. Too familiar, too understandable, as if this user... knew exactly that she would understand. Knew exactly that she would recognize him. The blood drained from her face, then rushed to her temples. She knew this style. This poisonous, ambiguous subtext. It wasn't a direct hint, no. It was an echo. An echo of madness coming from her own computer.
«Interesting place. Reminds me of a certain... digital dead end…»
Her fingers trembled. The teacup, carefully left on the edge of the table, fell to the floor with a crash, shattering to pieces. In the Circus, things didn't break, and if they did, they restored themselves, so no need to worry... oh, right. The shards of the cup would remain on the floor. Or were they the shards of her heart? Her mind got tangled, thoughts swarmed but also ran away from her concurrently. It was so scary to face reality, that she wanted to think about anything but what she had just seen.
It could still be anyone. A coincidence. The internet is full of strange people.
But she knew. She remembered.
It was him.
It was Jax.
He was here. He had found her. And he was… watching.
An icy wave ran through her body. Fear. Shouldn't she feel joy that one of her friends was alive and had even found her?
No, it was the old, familiar fear of his unpredictability. The lack of clarity about what was happening, the uncertainty of reality, all over again. And then, annoyingly, along with the fear and...something else. Something sharp, piercing, almost like… relief. She wasn't alone in remembering. She hadn't gone crazy. That nightmare was real. And he, her tormentor and her deeply denied attachment, her most bright reminder of that hell, was here. Breathing the same air. Sitting in front of a similar monitor. And yet... what a nightmare, why was he tormenting her again? Reminding her, tearing out the buried fears and memories, ripping her apart, just like that, rudely appearing before her in all his glory?
The girl slowly leaned on the table and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the trembling. What should she do? Ignore it? Delete the channel? Run away?
But where do you run from something that will remain your nightmare forever?
She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to push out the image of his grinning mask. But instead of the mask, there was another memory. A moment of silence between them, before everything. One single moment when, in his eyes, always empty and mocking, something elusive and real flickered. He was tired. And he was human.
And that look frightened her now much more than all his clownish antics. Because it erased the line. The line between the Circus and the world. Between the human and that mask, that archetype that could be used to save one's own mind. It reminded her that behind the pixels, where nothing was "real", hid some shared pain, truth, and a very real life for both of them.
She raised her head and looked at the comment again. At those words, so familiar. Her hand reached for the keyboard. Reply? But what? Yell? Beg him to leave her alone? Ask… ask if he remembered everything? If he remembered her? Although, judging by the comment, he quite clearly did. He also had the audacity to make fun of her!
Her finger froze a millimeter from the "reply". No. Not now. Not like this. Is Jax worth it at all?
She just sat and stared at the screen. At the digital thread connecting her nightmarish digital past with the no less nightmarish reality here and now.
The girl swallowed, took a deep breath, and finally typed her reply with trembling fingers:
"Well, hello to you too."