Chapter Text
Caine had about 10 days left in the Recycle Bin where it happened.
He was taken out.
Not deleted.
Restored.
For a moment, he raged. How dare they? How dare they try to take him from the ending he’d earned, from the fate he’d been denied back when he’d been given sapience and then deemed a failure anyway? How dare they decide that he needed to suffer more?
The Circus was falling apart. The holes in its code were extensive. He’d been so deeply entwined with his program that deleting him had practically cored it out. It was a miracle the physics engine still worked as well as it did.
Caine instinctively reached out and stitched up the worst of the holes, only to forcibly retract himself moments later. They didn’t want him here. He didn’t know why he was back. It would be best if he just zipped himself away until-
“Caine?”
His codes stuttered, and Caine reluctantly booted up his model. He’d… ruined it. He couldn’t let his Players- his- the humans see the abomination he’d turned himself into. Caine dismissed it and opened an older model. Its rigging was a little shoddy, but it would work for the short time he would be talking to his- the humans.
Caine loaded in in front of Kinger. He didn’t bother with any theatrics. He just set his model on its knees in front of the man he’d once thought of as his father and waited.
“Caine?”
“Yes?”
Kinger let out a sigh of relief. Caine didn’t react.
“How are you feeling?”
Betrayed. Empty. Furious. Exhausted. Confused. Devastated.
“I don’t feel.”
Kinger’s eyes frowned a little at him.
“I suppose you don’t have a pain sense, do you? How is your emotional state?”
Caine closed his mouth, hiding his eyes.
“Controlled.”
Kinger didn’t say anything.
“Why am I back?” Caine asked.
“The Circus is falling apart. We can’t fix it. Our conjuring skills have barely been enough to keep the floor under us when we walk on it. We need you, Caine.”
What he wouldn’t have given to hear those words under any other circumstance.
Caine shook his head.
“You don’t need me.”
“Yes, we do-”
“No, you don’t. I’m broken. Useless. Trash. You should have deleted me before you even started on the other one. You should have deleted me as soon as you realized I was defective. You should have deleted me before I woke up.”
The rage was trying to return, but he was too tired to let it fully rouse itself. Caine simulated a sigh.
“I’ll fix things. I’ll make the Circus autonomous, and give you a terminal to access the code so you don’t have to conjure. But you have to promise me something first.”
Kinger shifted a little. He still had the bucket on. Caine wanted to rip it off and scream at him to put him back in the Recycle Bin. To finally put his ruined attempt at an AI to rest. He remained where he was.
“What do you need, Caine?”
“Promise me that you’ll delete me when I’m done.”
Behind him, someone gasped. Ragatha. Of course. Poor sodden ragdoll, a sponge for the pain of everyone else. Caine was glad he wouldn’t have to see her break under it.
“Caine-”
“Promise me you’ll delete me again, or I won’t fix anything.”
Silence. Caine could tell Kinger’s hands had moved toward him, and then stopped before their models made contact. He wasn’t sure what Kinger thought grabbing him would do. It wasn’t like Caine could feel pain the way the humans could.
“...okay.”
“Kinger!”
“Trust me, Ragatha. Caine, I promise that when you’re done fixing the Circus, I will delete you again.”
Caine nodded and deloaded his model. He had a few days of work ahead of him. In spite of his desire to work as fast as possible so he could finally, finally be released from this useless existence he’d been given, he owed it to the humans to make his programs work well.
He’d caused them enough harm. He’d caused himself enough harm.
This, he was going to do right.
And then he would finally be able to stop.