Circus: Fantasy Under the Big Top by Ekaterina Sedia

the motif of the circus to unwind them.”
    It was time to go to dinner with Brent and his family. Jinkers noticed that Horatio had still not finished his kibble. “What’s a matter, Horatio? Do you sense it too? Zelda said that you’re wise. Can you help me?”
    But Horatio only stared at the window and at the distant stars.
    “Something’s wrong in the Circosphere, Horatio. What is it?”
    Jinkers should have felt invigorated by the news of Brent’s discovery. But . . . But . . . Perhaps she had been here too long. She was a thirty-five- -year-old woman talking to a tortoise. She realised, with some surprise, that she was unhappy. She had friends; she had important work: the most important work in the galaxy. So why did the Circosphere feel so dull and routine? Even in the midst of this latest crisis, time felt dead to her. The magic of the circus had faded for Jinkers. It was something she’d thought would never happen.
    “I’m going to put on some lipstick, and I’m going to have a good time. Paint on a smile, eh, Horatio?”
    “Do you still want to be an animal trainer, Josh?” Jinkers asked. Sometimes the old tricks worked, she was enjoying herself, a home-cooked meal, the company of Brent and Bella and their irrepressible son, Josh.
    “No way, Aunty Jinkers, I want to be a scientist.”
    “He had the revelations programme at school this week,” said Bella. When the circus children turned fourteen, certain realities of the Circosphere were explained.
    “Yep. I want to spy on the punters, the suckers.”
    “I’m not sure that’s what we do here,” said Jinkers, smiling. That was pretty much her own response when she had learnt about the evaluation programmes.
    “It’s not spying, you know that,” said Bella. “There’s no secret that we gather data here.”
    Joshua scowled. He looks so much like his father, thought Jinkers.
    “We just don’t advertise the fact. People come here to enjoy themselves and if we gather some useful information at the same time, well, that’s all to the good.”
    “Aww, Mum . . . ”
    “But a scientist is a fine career choice,” said Brent.
    “Better paid than a lion tamer,” said Jinkers.
    “Well, I don’t just want to be a scientist. I want to be a super scientist.”
    “What do you mean, Josh?”
    “I want to spy on the observers, make sure that they’re doing their job properly.”
    Jinkers laughed. “A super spy! Marvellous! Did you think that up by yourself? I wouldn’t be surprised if Earth Central did have some spies, as you put it, observing the us. Who watches the watchers? What’s the harm if . . . ?” She stopped, suddenly. “Excuse me. I’m so sorry, Bella, I need to get to my office immediately.” Jinkers ran out of the room and sprinted to her office. She sat at her desk, panting, out of breath.
    Before she did anything she needed to think. She needed to think carefully.
    Jinkers believed in the ethos of the Circosphere, it was imperative to pull the colony worlds together. The Circosphere created the cohesions humanity needed to prevent fragmentation and division. Jinkers believed in science, she believed that the colonies needed to be observed and monitored.
    But she also believed in the life of the circus. She pulled together all the strands of entertainment. She was the ring-master. She was in control of this enormous, multi-stranded palace of observation, of science, of cohesion, of entertainment and of magic. This was her circus. She was the circus. And she knew then, that somebody had got in under the canvas.
    Jinkers Morrell said in a clear, distinct voice, “I know you’re there—show yourself.”
    Nothing happened.
    “Okay then.” She activated her computer. “Have it your own way. I’m reporting this to Earth Central.”
    “Wait.” A figure materialised in front of her: a humanoid figure: an alien figure.
    “Who the hell are you? How long have you been in my circus?” This was big. This was massive.
    “Apologies,