strange circus

Arkady Petrovich was bored. Bored to the point of stupefaction, nausea, a faint urge to throw an expensive Sèvres vase at the nearest footman. His mansion was full of everything: Persian carpets, marble statues, servants scurrying about like those very same cockroaches. But his soul was a perfect, swept void.

He couldn't bear to look at yet another dinner party. And then his gaze fell on a piece of paper stuck fast to the wet pavement. "CIRCUS. UNPRECEDENTED DIVAS." The handwriting was scrawled, the letters unraveling as if they had been written with a claw. Something stirred within Arkady Petrovich. Why not?

The tent stood in a vacant lot outside the city. From the outside, it seemed small and nimble, like a gypsy tent. But when Arkady Petrovich pulled back the flap and stepped inside... He froze. The space inside was boundless, receding into a velvety darkness, dotted not with stars, but with some kind of shimmering dots. The air smelled of dust, electricity, and a sweet, unfamiliar nard.

He found his seat—a plush chair in the front row. And then, out of nowhere, music began to pour out. That same circus-inspired, cheerful music, but played on an out-of-tune hurdy-gurdy with a tinge of static, like an old radio.

A spotlight tore a circle of light from the darkness across the arena. And into this circle, slowly, rolled... the Master of Ceremonies. He was a robot on a wheel instead of legs. He stopped, his optical sensors scanning the audience.

"WELCOME..." his voice was metallic and hoarse, like rusty gears scraping against each other. "GET READY... TO SEE... THE UNSEEN."

The robot, without turning around, rolled smoothly back into the darkness, leaving behind a faint scent of ozone. The music faded to a high, questioning note.

And so it began.

Arkady Petrovich thought his vision was blurring. Walking along a thin rope stretched just beneath the dome was... an elephant. Enormous, gray, majestic. And he was standing on a single, multi-colored juggling ball. The ball rolled along the rope with a soft creaking sound, and the elephant, swinging his trunk,