DJ’s answer doesn’t satisfy them in the slightest. Everyone stands around in unease, waiting for some sort of queue to do something. They lean casually against the neurons. They don’t know any better.
Sebastian, not wanting to be bothered by the waiting, paces around the deck. At first he thinks about people, and how little electricity they have in them. They hardly have much more than a battery. He wonders if someone from outer space could comprehend that. An entire entity, capable of complex thought enough to find patterns in stars dotted hundreds of thousands of light years away, not even powered by a double A battery. He looks at the neurons with much the same curiosity. Just how powerful are they?
Sebastian takes a wire in his hand and starts looking around the neurons for an outlet. Sure, a shock didn’t seem like it would help much, but at least he’d have a rough estimate. He traces the rope-like branches with his fingers, feeling a second hum along his fingertips. It’s ever so slightly out of sync with his own hum. He can hardly stand it. When he comes to stop next to someone, be it Juniper, Adderall, or Ikimono, they simply step out of his way so he can continue down the line.
In the center of the main neuron is a crevice just big enough for his wrist wires to slide into it. He grins, perhaps as a pirate grins at newfound treasure. He takes the wire in his left hand and slides it into the crevice. At last, the humming tunes in with his own.
It begins with little vibrations that skidder up his arms and worm into his chest. He’s not frightened by them at all. They’re calming to him, as a matter of fact. He leans himself against the neuron, closing his eyes as he loses the feeling in his arms and his legs. Visions of colorful spirals and dots begin to fill his vision, leaving no inch of blackness in their place. His breathing grows faster for a moment, but he suddenly loses control of it. Now, there is only his senses and his imagination to guide him in the labyrinth of thought.
When Sebastian goes into the place he calls Deep Thought, he likes to imagine a little avatar for himself. Just a little form to make things make sense. He imagines himself as a fluffy white mothman with extra long antennae and markings of rosy gold. He flits about the void for a moment. He never adjusts perfectly to his avatar. But as soon as he can touch all of his fingers to his thumb one at a time, he knows he’s adjusted. A calibration, if you will.
He feels before anything else. The space is vast, but vast as though he is a child in a play space. Still, something muffles the sound around him. Is it fabric, vinyl, plastic? Perhaps it’s all three. He thinks perhaps it would be better to focus less on the muffled talking around him. He decides he’ll get back to it later.
As soon as he makes his choice, the wonderfully overwhelming scent of herbs and spices. He wonders for a moment if someone is cooking soup. Then again, the smell is dry. He tries to make a list of everything he knows is in the smell. Luckily for him, Peony was always doing something with herbs. There’s anise, vanilla, some rose petals, cloves, nutmeg, and something that smelled not quite unlike rain. It is a warm sort of smell, and some part of him wished for a bit of ginger to add itself to the mix.
Soon, the feeling of warm fabric rests against his hands and arms. How lucky I am, he thinks, to be in such a wonderful place! He curls up into a little ball and hugs himself, rubbing the softness against his chest. He rocks himself back and forth, side to side, happily calm in the space. He loves it all. Perhaps if he ever needs to calm down for a while, he can come here. In the lovely darkness of Deep Thought, he rests.
That’s when the impulses start.
Sebastian doesn’t recognize them at first. They aren’t the sort of thoughts he would think. They prickle along his skin and buzz around his head as an odd sort of green he doesn’t recognize. The smells vanish, and so too does the softness of the fabric on his arms. He hears whispers high above his head. Down at either side of his head are what he thinks to be the clicking and clacking of teeth and joints. He tries to focus on the whispers, but he can only pick up a few words at a time.
Veins, thread, muscle, teeth.
They crawl around on hundreds of legs, raising every hair on his arms and neck.
Needles, eyes, buttons, bones.
The thoughts tangle around his head like swarms of mosquitoes, and soon the only thing he sees is static.
Meat.
The word sits like a weight on his shoulders, slowly flowing down his back like slime. The buzzing thoughts around him suddenly cease as the cool ooze trickles down his arms. He hesitantly reaches out to touch it, but the liquid burns his hands. He freezes, trying to focus his eyes on the horrible texture slowly consuming his body. The colors are hazy, but the more he focuses, the darker they appear. He focuses harder, his mind’s eye straining as he tries so desperately to see the something gushing along him. He closes his eyes, and throws his head back to the growing cacophony above his head. A thousand voices, all joined together in bleeding agony, chanting Meat! Meat! Meat!
When he opens them again, the voices have stopped. The ooze vanishes into the open void, leaving behind stains of fluid trails in their tracks. Sebastian tries to get a grip on his own thoughts. Those voices, be they the whispers or the screams, couldn’t have been his. He had heard them all before though. Who were they?
That isn’t a problem now. Now, he has a clear vision of the space around him. It has opened up again, only now, the only claustrophobia comes from just how small Sebastian is compared to it all. Hot steam rises from vents in the floor, tossing a misty haze about the vast room. Puddles of deep red lay stagnant on the hard tile floor. The walls are festooned with the corrosion of rust. Meathooks dangle on chains from the ceiling, one so high that the chains vanish in clouds of brown mist. Some of the hooks are empty, perhaps only home to corrosion or fluid. Others carry flesh on their uncaring metal. All of it is fresh, and some of it is still dripping with blood. Still, the air around him smells sweet, almost sickly. For once, he wishes he could imagine the scent of bleach to cleanse the air.
Sebastian tries to rise to his feet, but he finds himself chained to the floor. He doesn’t panic at first, but the sight of the flesh dangling around him fills him with unease. Something yanks on the pit of his stomach, but he quells the urge. Perhaps it is nerves, not instinct. It has to be nerves. He sits and breathes in the humid air, and he finds it to be nearly choking.
The sound of heavy footsteps and clinking metal rises in the distance. He waits patiently for it to arrive. Fortunately for him, it doesn’t take long. When it finally stops before him, he can only recall the figure as the same voice which rang above him, the same oily green over his head.
“Are you lost?”
Sebastian ponders the question for a moment. “No. I don’t think so. I just wanted to see what was in the neurons, that’s all.”
“Be careful,” the voice says, “Wandering comes at a terrible cost.”
“Alright then. Can I leave?”
“I have now what I want from you. Leave and never return; it’s what’s best to do.”
The world around him begins to crumble like paper, and his sight returns to his eyes. The taste of saltwater lingers in his mouth. He sits in a heap on the ground, slumped over as if he had been poisoned. The wire rests at his side.
Peony and DJ kneel down beside him in concern. Peony holds his free hand, but DJ keeps their hands on their knees.
“Sebastian, what happened?” Peony asks.
“I stuck one of my wires in a crevice to see how much electricity was in the neurons,” he explains, “I think I saw something I wasn’t supposed to.”
“What did you see?” She asks again.
“There were all these voices chanting and droning on, and I was in some sort of slaughterhouse. I kept hearing the word meat over and over again.
“Meat?”
“Yeah, meat. It was tender and bloody and it smelled sort of sweet.”
“Who would be thinking about meat in a circus like this?”
“Sometimes we get meat here,” Ikimono interrupts, “It’s rare, but sometimes we eat meat.”
Ikimono isn’t sure what more they should say. They want to tell them, so badly they want to tell them, but with a neuron that close by, there’s no telling what will happen. The knowledge burns in their mind.
“Someone’s eating?” Sebastian asks,
“I think so,” Ikimono lies, “Was it rotten?”
“Rotten?”
“Yeah. Rotten meat.”
“Who would ever eat rotten meat?” Peony grimaces.
“Someone really desperate,” DJ frowns, “That or a masochist.”
Ikimono shoots them all a glare. They hope someone will notice them.
“Whose voice did you hear?” DJ asks, “Maybe that’ll help us.”
Sebastian hesitates. He knows the answer he has won’t be one that makes sense to them. “It was green.”
DJ looks unamused. “Green?”
“Yeah, green. And there was a bunch of clicking and snapping around me too, like someone rattling teeth in a bag.”
“That’s odd,” Peony says, “Did anyone say anything to you?”
“They told me that wandering like that would get me killed and they had what they needed from me.”
Ikimono just about jumps out of their skin. Oh god, not this soon. He’s going to make quick of everyone at this rate.
“Ikimono?” DJ asks, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah,” they mutter, “Just fine.”
“Do you know something about this?” DJ asks.
They stay silent for a second, wondering how much trouble they’d find themselves in if they said so much as a word. They look at Sebastian, then back at DJ.
“His nose has been bleeding this whole time,” they say, “I didn’t say anything before, but I’m a little worried. Does he do that often?”
DJ looks back at Sebastian, and finds Sebastian does indeed have a nosebleed. Sebastian throws his hands over his face and cowers away from Peony. She recoils in surprise as DJ springs to their feet.
“You’re right,” DJ says, “Thanks, little buddy. Seb, I’m gonna grab a tissue or something, you keep your head forward.”
DJ rushes back to their boxcar, and Ikimono rushes over to take their place. Sebastian sheepishly looks back up at them.
“Thanks,” Sebastian says, “I hate it when this happens.”
Ikimono nods. “It’s nothing much.”
The three sit in silence for a moment. Peony looks at the ground, trying to ignore Sebastian.
“Hey, Sebastian?” Ikimono whispers.
“Yeah?”
“When you look at yourself in the mirror, do you pay much attention to your reflection?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t look too deep into the mirrors. Sometimes what you find looking back won’t be you.”
Sebastian cocks his head to the side. Ikimono sighs in disappointment.
DJ rushes back with a little cream handkerchief and hands it to Sebastian. Sebastian thanks them quietly, then holds it over his face.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“You good?” DJ asks.
“I should be in a couple minutes,” he replies.
“Alright. Thank you, Ikimono.”
Ikimono smiles and nods.
“Once we get everything under control,” Fuego remarks, taking a few steps closer to the incident, “Can we go out and look around for a while? All this talk of meat and blood’s got us nervous.”
“Yeah,” Peony says, “We are getting in a bit of a knot aren’t we. Hey, Ikimono? When we go, would you like to come with us?”
Ikimono stays still for a moment. Then, they nod.
“If you’ll have me, yes,” They reply.
“Then come with us,” Peony smiles, “I know you’ve probably seen everything already, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.”
Peony is right. Ikimono supposes that the real question ought to be whether they’re allowed to have fun.
Sebastian hands the handkerchief back to DJ, and Peony helps him to his feet. Ikimono makes his way to the stairs and motions for them to come over. The others follow his command, but just as swiftly as he takes the lead, he sneaks to the back of the crowd. They stay well away from the lead, hoping that perhaps no one will notice them.
Ikimono follows the group as they reach the ground and begin to wander around the back alleys. There’s not really much in the way of entertainment back here, unless you find fun in structural safety hazards. Broken down stands waft stale scents through the air as the wind passes by, adorned with faded colors of once vivid paint and scaling neurons clawing their way up their sides like wretched vines. Larger buildings, once inhabited by games, mazes, and rides, stand as husks amidst the dim light. If one had good eyes and looked far enough into the darkness, they might even find the figure of a once-worn costume or old robot performer staring back at them with hollowed plastic eyes. To say the back alleys were undesirable to guests wouldn’t be an understatement, but the thing is that they weren’t really guests anymore. And they never were average guests, either.
They press on through the back alleys, not lacking in fun but wishing for more of it. They have to hold back Sebastian and Fuego from running into one of the old buildings, but aside from that, they all quickly grow bored of the excursion. Peony in particular is just about ready to die of apathy during the walk. Just as she’s ready to accept her fate, she remembers Ikimono. She looks ahead of her, but when she doesn’t see the purple of their scarf, she turns around. She winces in surprise at the sight of them.
“I’m sorry,” Ikimono mutters, looking away from her. “I scared you, didn’t I?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” She replies, “You don’t have to be a hide-behind, you know.”
Ikimono nods. The two walk in silence for a short while. They still drift behind her.
“You can walk beside me, Ikimono.”
Ikimono looks up from the ground and at Peony. She has to be kidding. No, she couldn’t be, her eyes, her tone, and her expression all feel genuine. They take a couple steps forward to walk beside her. The warmth in their chest is almost uncomfortable.
“You know this place well, don’t you?” She asks.
Ikimono nods. “Yeah?”
“Can you show us how to get back on the main drag again?” She asks.
Ikimono hesitates. They look up to the front of the crowd, then back at Peony.
“Oh. Well, could you tell me how to get there so that way I can show them the way?”
Ikimono smiles and nods. “If we walk a little further down, there’ll be a clearing to the right. If we follow it, we’ll reach Front Street in no time.”
“Front Street?”
“You called it the main drag. I call it Front Street. It’s the first thing you see when you get here, you know?”
“Oh, I like that. I like that a lot, actually.”
Ikimono smiles at Peony. They know she’s probably just being polite, but they appreciate her.
“Hey, y’all!” She shouts.
The others turn around and face her.
“There’s a little clearing up a little ways on our right. If we walk through it, we’ll end up on Front Street.”
“Front Street?” Adderall asks.
“The main stretch of the circus, where all the booths are. The one that leads to the big top. That’s what Ikimono calls it.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” DJ smiles. “I’m getting tired of looking at old buildings anyway.”
“They’d be a lot less boring if you’d let us go inside one of them,” Sebastian protests.
“They aren’t structurally sound, Seb!” DJ retorts, “You’ll be walking around in one and it’ll fall in on you. I’ll have to pull you off the ground with a spatula.”
“You’re willing to be an accomplice to a war crime but you won’t let us commit a simple O’sha violation,” Fuego sighs, shaking vens head in disappointment, “Hypocrite.”
“You partook in those war crimes too, Fuego,” DJ says, “You were only 18 when we all went off to fight Malus!”
“19 and 24 mean absolutely nothing in the court of Genaeva,” Sebastian smirks, “We were still child soldiers. Now come on, DJ, let us commit an O’sha violation!”
“We have a plan, you two, and that plan does not involve breaking the laws of the high court of O’sha! Or Genaeva, for that matter. We’re going to go to Front Street, and we’re gonna have ourselves a good time. Come on, let’s go.”
Sebastian and Fuego happily oblige and tag along in the back. Ikimono keeps to Peony’s side, a little prouder than they were before. Nobody thought they were foolish or stupid in suggesting the path. Or did they think that because Peony suggested it?
They look up at Peony, then back at the group.
Perhaps it’s better not to know.
As they turn into the clearing, Sebastian and Fuego walk up alongside Ikimono and Peony. Ikimono starts to slow their pace, but Peony gives them a look that tells them not to.
“So Ikimono,” Sebastian begins, “What’s there to do on Front Street?”
“Oh,” Ikimono says, startled that anyone would bother asking them, “There’s a lot of stuff to do, uh, there’s games, there’s a couple rides, some days they have street performers, but I’m not sure. There’s food there too, but I haven’t gotten the chance to see what they have in a while.”
“What did they have the last time you checked?” Fuego asks, suddenly much more invested in the conversation.
“They just had normal fair stuff,” Ikimono shrugs. “But I remember a stall that sold some sort of dumpling. They were good.”
“They have Jahodove knedliky?” Fuego beams.
“That's what they’re called?”
“Probably. Wait, what did they have in them?”
“There was meat and vegetables, I think. Wait, there’s--” they pause. They can’t remember the word in Spectral. “Uh, the…you know the pink animals, they’re short and they’re fat and they eat corn sometimes. They have curly tails and, uh…”
Ikimono looks helplessly at the others. They wonder how bad the beating would be if they just said it in their tongue.
“…Buta?”
Peony stares off into the distance to think. Ikimono takes a step away from her. A head start never hurts as badly as the beating.
“You mean pigs?” Peony asks.
“Yeah. What’s the meat called?” Ikimono asks, grimacing in embarrassment.
“Pork?” Peony replies.
Peony looks back down at Ikimono. They look like they’re about to throw up or pass out.
“Ikimono?” She asks.
“Pork is the meat of the pig?” They reply.
“Yeah. Pork.”
Ikimono steps back over to Peony. “Thank you, Peony. They had something that sort of tasted like pork, but there aren’t any pigs here, I don’t think. And there were some vegetables in there too, and they gave you this orange-y sauce to dip them in.”
“Never heard of those before,” Fuego replies.
“They sound like egg rolls,” Sebastian adds.
“I mean, I think they were,” Ikimono continues, “But the sauce you dipped them in was fishy, I think.”
“Like Surstrӧmming?” Sebastian suggests.
Ikimono looks at Sebastian with a blank, somewhat puzzled expression. “Yeah, sure.”
“I think I know what you’re talking about,” Peony says, “You all remember when we were out for the Malus thing, and we stopped in Bainise and they had them, and the word for it didn’t look like how it sounded at all? It was like, Cha-, Cha something. Juniper?”
Juniper turns around. “Hm?”
“You remember when we were in Bainise?”
“How could I forget Bainise?” She wearily grins, “I can never unsee DJ’s eye getting gushed like that.”
“I’m not talking about that, what were the spring roll things we got while we were there called? Like, Cha-something, but what was that something?”
She replies without missing a beat. “What, Cha Gios?”
“Thank you,” Peony replies. “They have those?”
“I think so,” Ikimono replies.
“Even better,” Fuego says, grinning quite literally from ear to ear.
“So we’ve got plans for fun and plans for an evening snack,” Sebastian smiles, “Two birds with one stone.”
“Say, Ikimono,” Peony says, “If the group breaks off for whatever reason, you can stick with us if you’d like.”
Ikimono smiles.
“Yeah, absolutely!” Sebastian adds, “Stick with us, Ikimono.”
Ikimono lets out a little sigh of relief. Why they’re being so nice to them, they can’t quite tell. They’re not going to waste the chance of kindness, though. Especially one that feels genuine.
The group at last makes it to the illustrious Front Street. They cower in the alleyway at first, in awe of the fluorescent lights slowly overpowering the glow of the neurons and completely shrouding the dark late-afternoon sky. Ikimono takes the first step into the midway, slowly backing up into the middle of the path and stretching their arms wide as if presenting it as their own creation.
Sebastian takes a deep breath, but Peony beats him to the path. He rushes close behind, eventually followed by Adderall and Fuego. Juniper and DJ at last stand alone in the alley, and DJ motions for Juniper to leave first. She does, and as the group begins to walk again, DJ now lags behind as the caboose.
…
Oh, thank goodness they’re in the back.
I step out into the midway. I don’t like it very much out here, the lights are blinding, and heaven forbid someone hears me. I know DJ will, though. I mean, as much as I hate that they’ve been so finely attuned to minutiae, it does come in handy at times like these.
They turn around, and I dart back into a corner. DJ doesn’t know what I do, and if they so much as think of my name on the midway, I’m a dead man. Thankfully, they just follow the wind back to me.
They round the corner just about as quickly as I darted in. Do I try to keep my form?
“Crick?” DJ asks, “What’s going on? Why are you here?”
“Oh, DJ,” I reply, “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“Crick, you’re getting hazy. Is everything alright?”
“I know I’m not stable. I’m trying to keep the both of us safe, that’s all.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a strange looking man at the door.”
DJ pauses. I hope they know what I mean.
“What?”
It comes out as a sort of song. “Well, he’s not your run-of-the-mill animal.”
“Crick?”
“You know the rhyme, all the better to see you with, all the better to hear you with, all the better to eat you with. I’d be careful out there if I were you.”
“Crick, are you having a stroke? Am I having a stroke?”
I pause. I think I can only describe DJ’s look as that of realization.
“What’s the deal with the neurons, Crick?”
“Don’t even think about me when you tell them. Think of fresh snow and how it smells when things die. You’ll throw him off.”
“Crick, am I doomed?”
“DJ, I’m saying this as kindly as I can, but you need to be more careful about the gods you pray to. I don’t think they heard you, but someone else already did.”
“One more thing. How do I know it’s you?”
“You already know, DJ.”
DJ nods.
“How do I tell them?”
“Tell them how you always tell them. You’ll be alright.”
DJ turns to leave.
“One last thing, DJ.”
They turn back to face me.
“White roses. He won’t kill me that easily.”
…
“DJ, what the hell are you doing back here?”
DJ turns around to find Juniper tapping at their shoulder.
“Saw some midi-chlorians back here,” DJ replies, trying to imagine frost pecking at their snout. “I figured I’d stop in and see what they were up to.”
“Midi-chlorians?” Juniper says in disbelief.
“Yeah, then Ben Kenobi himself just zapped in front of me to dispel some arcane knowledge about the force. Long story short, I’ll be taking a week’s long vacation to the swamps of Dagobah for an all-expense paid luxury force tutoring camp.”
“What did he tell you?” Juniper asks, half sarcastically.
“Don’t think about anything that could be used against you.”
She pauses. DJ isn’t joking.
She turns back and calls out to the group. “Did you guys hear that?”
The others look at each other in confusion. Some of them nod or give a thumbs up to Juniper, but they don’t quite understand why DJ would say that. Ikimono knows, though, but they’ve given up on not thinking about things that would hurt them. They can’t be hurt any more than what they have.
“So if you’re done hallucinating for the time being, shall we keep going?
DJ shrugs. “Sure,”
The group leaves behind the darkness of the alleyways, happily skipping off into the fluorescent lights and strange, silly music. If any night was for having fun, it was this one, and they weren’t going to let such a chance slip through their fingers that easily.
A white rose in the dark clearing slowly wilts away, but the ghastly white roots that lay beneath the cobblestone begin to grow. They creep their way around the rocks, mingling with the neurons that grow among the stalls and the scrap metal from old rides which litter the back alleyways. Compared to the rest of the neurons, it hardly takes up enough space to matter, let alone overpower the other neurons.
Somewhere, amidst the chaos of the circus, Sunshine hears the quiet drumming of a heartbeat.