Free Circus: Fantasy Under the Big Top by Ekaterina Sedia Page A

Atwoods as the most important. She issued an e-call for him to join her immediately.
    She opened the screens to her office window and took in the view. She refreshed herself in the view of the stars. Yes, it still re-energized her, even after all these years.
    She took out a bowl of kibble for her pet tortoise, Horatio. She liked Horatio. He never did anything unexpected. And he never wandered off. He was, in fact, the perfect pet for the Circosphere administrator.
    A knock on the door and Brent entered her office. He looked excited.
    “Hello, Brent, what can I do for you?”
    “Jinkers, you’re looking well.”
    She wasn’t, but she was grateful for his courtesy. Jinkers shared a common bond with Brent. They’d arrived at the Circosphere from the same colony world, at about the same time, both desperate to shed off the ennui of their farming colony world. They’d both risen through the ranks. They had yearned for glamour and excitement. They hadn’t found it. Instead, they’d found science and administration. But dreams change as you grow older and they were both content with their current roles. It was important work, the most important work in the galaxy.
    “How’s the family?” Brent was happily married to Bella, a lovely woman and a contortionist. Jinkers smiled to herself.
    “Great. Great. Joshua’s obsessed with the tigers at the moment.”
    “Wants to be an animal trainer?”
    “Of course, but I’m trying to persuade him to consider veterinary science, instead.”
    Jinkers would have loved to have a proper conversation with Brent. It seemed that she had little time for her friends, lately. But, she thought of the all the messages on her computer and said, “Shall we get down to business? You sent me a message about some anomalous readings . . . ”
    Brent led a team of psychologists. Science and research were the real business of the Circosphere. The punters would be surprised to know that there were more scientists here than performers.
    “Of course, Gaffer. There are some very interesting results from the audiences in the Theatre of Laughter.”
    Jinkers took the e-notepad Brent offered her. The technical data made no sense to her. “Talk me through it, please.”
    “It was the clowns who first noticed it. They’d been reporting for weeks that the audience ‘wasn’t right’ but we ignored them. You know how they complain.” Brent scowled—a sign of his embarrassment.
    “But this time . . . ” prompted Jinkers.
    “Well, they insisted. So, to humour them, we upgraded our analysis. And you know what? They were right. A significant percentage of the audience were reacting too quickly, in some cases before joke resolution.”
    “They were laughing before the joke? It wasn’t just randomised humour?”
    “No, we factored that out. There is definite evidence of pre-laughter.”
    “And what world has it come from?”
    “It’s randomised across all the colonies.”
    “And you interpret the data as . . . ?”
    “Some of the audience have developed precognitive ability.”
    “But it’s randomised, right? Across all the colonies?”
    Earth Central funded the Circosphere, and Earth Central feared diversity. Who could tell what strange effects the different colony biospheres might have? A different sun, strange radiation, a variation in elemental chemistry, anything might initiate physical or mental changes in the colonists. The Circosphere has two functions. To unite the colonists through a central culture, reminding them of their shared heritage; and to monitor the colonists, to check that they weren’t growing away from the common core of humanity.
    “I think that you can anticipate a very large increase in your research grant when Earth Central hears about this,” said Jinkers. Was this the source of her strange worries? Was she sensing this change in the punters’ abilities?
    “Thanks, Jinkers,” said Brent. He looked pleased, as well he might. This was an immeasurably significant