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Technically, you’re not a widower.
Of course you aren’t, that’s absurd! Why on Earth would anyone think that? You would have had to be married to be a widower, and there are no properly ordained individuals in the Digital Circus!
There is also no death in the Digital Circus! Only the eternal damnation of pain and insanity and darkness and despair that is Abstraction, with a capital A. But Abstraction isn’t death, Caine has assured you of that! They are still very much alive! Isn’t that nice!
So, with no marriage and no death, being a widower is impossible.
And yet.
There’s a small part of you, smaller than even the tiniest Dicopomorpha echmepterygis, that thinks you’ve earned the title.
Dicopomorpha echmepterygis is the worlds smallest insect, a type of bug known as a fairy fly. Your dead wife would have surely loved such a cute name, were she not busy being dead.
And there you go again— Queenie wasn’t your wife, and she isn’t dead. You know both of these facts to be true, irrefutably. He said so himself!
Who?
Why, Caine, of course! He said that being abstracted isn’t death, it’s just another form of living! Nothing to be scared of!
Insects are nothing to be scared of. Most are harmless, and the ones that are harmful are rarely fatal. Ragatha calls you brave when you rescue a centipede from her room with your bare gloved hands, but that’s not right! Centipedes can’t hurt you!
And they aren’t insects, either! Another pesky technicality. You usually delight in technicalities, in how slight changes to perceptions can pivot an entire discussion. It’s fascinating stuff! But you add the not-insect to your collection anyway. After all, what’s stopping you from bending the rules?
That last thought wasn’t yours. When it enters your head it’s with the sweet voice of your dead wife, who is not dead and is not your wife. Queenie—
Her name shouldn’t hurt. She’s not dead.
—Queenie always kept you calm. She liked to bend rules and ignore technicalities. Queenie liked to eat and sleep, and she was very brave. And she liked you, for some reason.
And maybe she still likes all those things! You don’t know, it’s been a while since you’ve spoken. Caine said it would be fruitless—
Who?
Caine! Aren’t you paying attention? This is important, it may be our only way out of here .
…
When Kaufmo starts talking about an exit. You know what’s coming.
He rambles on, his usually chipper voice now soaked in desperation. There’s a way out, he says, a door. He’s seen it. He’s felt it.
You listen. You don’t console or correct, try to talk down. But you pay attention. You try to take every word to heart. It’s the least you can do for—
Who?
Caine!
Caine is back, with another adventure! You’d like to be excused, given the circumstances, and you say so. It was just yesterday, if the linear flow of time is to be believed.
You will not be excused! After all, when your not-wife not-dies you are liable to do some things you may regret! Like living!
So Caine must watch you very closely, yes? To make sure you do not think of the horrible shifting mass of eyes and pain that was once your deepest love!
It’s funny, the notion that an adventure could distract you from Queenie. As if you haven’t spent every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every month of every year—
Ah! Gangle startled you!
Caine thinks there’s no time for thoughts of Queenie while you hunt Gloinks.
Caine is wrong, sometimes.
Who?
Caine! Aren’t you paying attention? This is important, it may be our only way out of here.
Sorry, sweetheart, I… don’t know what came over me.
We… don’t have much time. Listen— remember what happened to Wormeo?
How could I forget?
You can’t forget. You’d like to, but you can’t.
Caine said they’re still alive down there, but operating on primal instinct alone. They're code without a center, a body without a brain.
Because they’ve gone crazy! That’s what he said!
My love… Cain is wrong, sometimes.
Most of your memories of Queenie are bittersweet. They sting, but the good outweighs the bad. You’re find of them, and most of the hours into days into months into years into decades you spend staring into space are in pleasant nostalgia for what once was.
But there’s one memory you can’t forget.
—A body without a brain—
Where does the brain go, you wonder?
…That thought wasn’t yours.
You… really think it’ll work? Abstracting?
Well… if I’m right, our brains will reject this simulation once and for all, sending us back to our real lives while our digital ‘bodies’ degrade and corrupt. And if I’m wrong…Kinger, what do we really have to lose?
You hate this memory. You hate how tired she sounds— she cannot be tired in the Digital Circus, and yet—
No matter what happens, we’ll be together. That’s all I need, anywhere.
…Okay. Okay.
It’s not death. They’re all still alive down there.
So… how do we do it?
Well, Caine said it’s what happens when you give up, yes? So… we give up. We let go.
You can still feel her hand, soft in yours.
Okay.
…
I love you, Queenie.
…
I’ll say it back on the other side.
Ragatha was wrong about you. You aren’t brave.
In fact, you’re the most cowardly, pathetic, self-obsessed, sorry excuse for a character this circus has to offer.
Maybe Queenie still likes to eat and sleep, maybe she’s still brave. But you know that it’s impossible that she still likes you.
Maybe, one day, you’ll see her again, one day you’ll be brave enough to let go. But until then…
Your wife is dead. You are alive. And thats all there is to it.
“Man, I can't believe Kaufmo just gave up like that. I mean, no offense Kinger, but I always thought you would be next.”
“Thank you!”