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Finally finding the exit and leaving that digital hell was not the freedom they thought it would be. One way of explaining it would be seeing a light, then darkness, falling in and out of consciousness, and long dreams of still being trapped in between.
The first time Zooble - or Quinn as they get used to calling themselves again - wakes up, they aren’t lucid. They’re hungry, they’re mouth is dry, their head hurts, their eyes can barely flutter open, and they can barely form a coherent thought. From what they could tell, the room was dark, it smelled funny, and the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor echoed around them.
They wake up like that a few more times, still out of it, but eventually able to grasp that they were in a hospital room. Doctors and nurses regularly come in and out of their room. They’ll come in, talk - usually explain what they're doing and if anything about Quinn’s condition changed - and do whatever it was they needed to do. It’s brief, but if Zooble had to listen to nothing but non-stop beeping 24 hours, they would probably lose it.
They can’t move or speak. A ventilator is attached to their face and an IV is stuck in their arm. Their mouth is dry, they’re hungry, and their head hurts. Honestly, the human doesn’t know what they expected when they escaped back to the real world. Hospitals suck.
During the day though, when the room is brighter and the sun shines through the window, they feel something in their hands and voices talking to them. Oh, so familiar voices they never thought they’d hear again.
God they missed their old friends.
The hospital only allows a small number of visitors at a time. They can barely talk, but by this point they’re a little more awake. It’s nice to have someone with them, even if they can’t hold a conversation.
“What happened” is the first thing Zooble asks.
Their friend Marcus tells them that C&A was holding them captive.
The doctor explains that they couldn’t remove the headsets without risking death or serious brain damage.
The cops were still investigating.
Their sister, Ashley, rambles about the media circus that resulted and asks if they want to watch a YouTube video about it.
They all say Quinn is lucky to be alive.
It’s maybe a month or two later when Zooble is deemed well enough to be moved. Who would’ve thought that being trapped in a digital playground while their body was comatose would mean they’d have to learn how to walk again? It sucks, but physical therapy isn’t that bad. They’re mostly just bored. They’d rather hide in their room and do the exercises alone than be forced to interact with strangers outside - even if it is somewhat isolating.
They’ve seen the news coverage. And the twitter reactions. And the true crime videos. God, they get enough pitying glances from people already. They do not need some curious weirdo going up to them and asking about what happened. They already told the cops, and their doctors, and their friends and family. It is public record that everybody found in that shitty C&A basement prison was trapped in a simulation. There is nothing they can say that hasn’t been reported!
They’re eating lunch with Ashley when the topic of going outside comes up. She asks between bites of ramen if Quinn would want to eat in the yard instead of their room the next time she visits.
“Not really.”
“Just thought I’d ask. The garden’s pretty.”
They mostly eat in silence after that. The two of them were never close, so Ashley trying to bond with them was kinda awkward. It’s not bad, just weird. The last conversation they had (before the circus) was over text of Ashley asking them if they could help her pay for their dad’s birthday present.
An hour later, Ashley starts grabbing her stuff to leave. The food was already thrown away, so all she had to do was grab her backpack. As she was packing up her laptop, the younger student suddenly went, “Shit, I almost forgot!”
She started rummaging through her bag before pulling out a box. “Merry Christmas,” she says with a smile as she hands their sibling the present.
“It’s March,” Quinn replies.
“Happy birthday.”
“My birthday’s in August."
“Do you want the present or not?”
Zooble rolls their eyes and takes the thing. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” their sister cheers. “Bye.”
They wave goodbye to each other and Zooble begins to unwrap the present.
…and unwrap.
…and unwrap.
…and unwrap.
‘How many layers of wrapping paper did that girl use?’
It’s probably eight minutes and a hundred layers later when the tattoo artist finally makes it to the actual box. It’s small, about the size of their hand, and they open it with ease. Inside is a card on top of an old ipod, charger, and earbuds.
‘Dear Quinn,
Since you don’t have a phone anymore, I dug up this old thing. Remember when you gave it to me? Consider this payback.
It still works btw. Hope you like the playlist! <3
Love,
Ash’
Zooble chuckles at the part about payback. They gave Ashley their old ipod touch for Christmas ten years ago and wrapped it in god-knows-how-many layers of wrapping paper. They don’t remember the exact number. What they do remember is their kid sister getting frustrated, but laughing, their mom asking if this was why they ran out of tape, and Ash’s excitement when she finally reached the prize.
They untangle the earbuds and turn on the device. There’s Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Green Day, Arctic Monkeys, Amy Winehouse, along with every other song they liked in high school.
They log into their email (the texting app never worked for some reason) and send their sister a thank you. They then shuffle through the playlist and put on a song by The Killers. They lie down, close their eyes, and let the sweet sounds of Hot Fuss lull them to sleep.
Marcus visits the next week with sandwiches and fruit juice. He hands Quinn their half of the meal and takes the seat next to the bed.
“Your sister texted the group chat that you were able to walk a few feet without crutches yesterday.”
“Yup.”
“That’s great! Means you’ll be outta here soon.”
“Uh huh.” Zooble takes a bite of their sandwich. It’s kinda dry.
“Anything you’re looking forward to doing again?”
“I could use an actual drink when I get out.”
They could also use a joint, but their parents threw their old stash out.
“Yeah. You deserve one.” He flicks his juice box at Quinn like he was clinking an imaginary glass and takes a swig. “Y’know… Ray won some fancy liquor at his ex’s holiday party and I got a new bong. I can invite him, Jen, Percy, Misty and some others and we can throw you a party. Sound fun?”
“Great.”
The former bartender went back to their meal. It needs mayo. The sandwich is good, just missing something. Probably mayo. The ham is fine. They’ve recovered enough that meat doesn’t feel too heavy in their stomach anymore. They appreciate being able to eat actual food.
They take another bite of their sandwich. Marcus eats a potato chip. It’s quiet again. The awkward silence almost makes them wish they were still hooked up to a beeping machine.
It’s not like Zooble isn’t happy to see their old friend, it’s just…
“Are you doin’ alright, Q?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s just that you’ve been really quiet lately. Like more than usual.”
“And?”
“Are you sure you're okay? Like emotionally?”
Of course they are. They’re human again. They have their human body, with human parts, and human appearance. After all these years, they are free from that technicolor, overstimulating death trap. They’re great!
They recovered so well from essentially waking up drugged and paralyzed for the first few weeks. Not being able to leave the hospital until they were transferred to a hospice is totally normal. It’s great how all their dirty laundry and personal information was shared by the news and true crime junkies after the C&A raid. Pomni’s livestream of being abducted doesn’t give them nightmares at all. They aren’t worried about their fellow victims. They still forget their own name sometimes, but that’s okay! It doesn’t matter that only a handful of people will understand what they went through for the past few years and all of them are gonna need therapy for the rest of their lives.
They’re too tired to be angry, and too pissed to feel relief. They’re just… numb. Everything’s… everywhere… a lot… Freedom is an adjustment.
“Yes.”
Maybe it’s to get their family off their back, maybe they just really missed fresh air, but eventually Zooble decides to go to the yard. They’re getting better at walking, and the doctors say they might be able to leave soon, so they might as well try to enjoy one of the facility’s advertised perks.
When they arrive, they decide it’s actually kinda nice. The garden isn’t huge, but it’s not claustrophobic. It’s colorful, but not overwhelmingly. The grass is green, there’s a couple of small trees and small patches of brightly colored flowers. The stone pavement is grey and the dirt is varying shades of brown. Everything outside is real and natural.
God, the human is never taking the real outdoors for granted ever again.
There aren’t a lot of people outside at the moment, which is also nice. Quinn hobbles over to one of the benches, passing two old men playing chess and a couple eating lunch.
There’s another girl on the bench next to theirs. She’s wearing round, rimless eyeglasses, red and white sweatpants, black shoes, and a white shirt. A white beanie with a pokemon embroidered on the side sits on top of her head, hiding her hair. She’s drawing in a sketchbook, and Quinn can just barely make out the picture of the Gloink Queen she’s drawing.
…Wait a minute.
Zooble did a double take. Unaware of her neighbor, the young woman continued to color in the giant, red, multi-eyed, snake/worm/thing.
“Gangle,” Zooble mouthed.
It had to be Gangle, right?
The only confirmed C&A victims to wake up so far have been from their little group. The news never reported on the NPCs, and in the handful of photos they posted of them, the Gloink Queen wasn’t in any of them. Gangle is an artist, so of course she would have a sketchbook. The girl even sits all bundled in on herself like Gangle.
While Zooble internally freaked out about potentially reuniting with their best friend, the girl turned to an empty page and started drawing shapes that looked like Kinger, Ragatha, and Orbsman. Orbsman also wasn’t in any news reports.
That does it!
Not knowing whether or not that girl is Gangle, or some other Circus survivor, is gonna drive them insane. They get up and walk over to the person, their crutches making little ‘thumps’ in the grass.
The girl nervously looks up at the tall figure looming over her. They have short, choppy, black hair, brown eyes framed by a pair of dark, thick rimmed glasses, and wearing smoke colored sweatpants with a black and white skeleton hoodie.
“Hey,” they said.
“Hi.”
Zooble did not think this far ahead.
The girl, at least, sounded like Gangle, so they don’t feel completely crazy yet.
“I like your drawings.”
“Thanks,” the girl says, pulling her book closer to her chest, hiding the drawing.
‘And she’s uncomfortable. Of course she’s uncomfortable.’
“I’m Quinn,” the human extended their hand. “My friends call me Zooble.”
The name causes the girl to pause. She blinks, looks closer at the stranger in front of her, and processes their voice.
“Zooble?”
The standing human nods. A smile spreads across Gangle’s face as she springs from the bench and wraps her arms around their long lost friend. Her beanie itches Zooble’s nose. They hold each other as if the other will dissolve if they stopped.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Madison,” she lets go, reaching out her right hand, “I’m- My name’s Maddie. Or Gangle, but my real name is Maddie.”
“Quinn,” they introduce themself again, shaking her hand.
The two sit together on Gangle’s bench and catch up. Gangle, or Madison, woke up not long after Zooble did. She’s mainly been visited by her parents. Her parents have been helping her shop for a therapist. She hasn’t met anyone yet, but drawing helps. She’s been hanging out in the yard ever since her doctor gave her the go ahead with her crutches. She likes drawing the flowers when she isn’t sketching anime fan art or things from The Circus.
“I don’t really have much else going on.”
Quinn responds that it’s mostly the same for them.
They’re both expecting to be discharged soon.
“Do you wanna hang out when we get out of here,” Gangle suggests. “My dad has a pretty big movie collection on his computer and we can catch up on stuff together.”
“Yeah.” They genuinely smile as they answer her. The weight on their back feels lighter. The pressure that’s been suffocating them loosens, and the two of them can breathe.
Zooble pulls their ipod out of their pocket, hands one of the earbuds to Gangle, and presses play on a random song. They listen to the greatest hits of Zooble’s emo phase until an employee tells them yard hours are up.
‘Comin’ outta my cage and I've been doin’ just fine…’