The equipment room turned out to be less of a room and more of a pocket dimension that had been awkwardly shoved into the back corner of the tent. Alex followed Riley through what looked like a normal door and found himself in a space that defied geometry with the casual confidence of someone who'd given up on making sense years ago.
"Don't think too hard about the architecture," Riley advised, noticing Alex's confused expression as he tried to understand how they were walking uphill while still being inside a tent. "The room organizes itself based on need rather than logic. Much more efficient that way."
Shelves lined the walls at impossible angles, filled with equipment that ranged from the merely unusual to the aggressively surreal. Alex spotted juggling balls that seemed to be juggling themselves, a unicycle with training wheels that appeared to be giving the unicycle confidence advice, and what looked like a safety net that was practicing catching techniques on imaginary falling objects.
"Here we are," Riley announced, stopping in front of a corner where various pieces of aerial equipment hung from rigging that disappeared into shadows above them. "Our trapeze collection. They're... well, they're special."
The trapezes hung at different heights, and Alex could immediately see what Riley meant by temperamental. One of them was slowly swaying back and forth while making what sounded suspiciously like sighing noises. Another was spinning in tight circles as if trying to make itself dizzy. A third was hanging perfectly still but somehow managed to look deeply offended by something.
"This is Harmony," Riley said, pointing to the sighing trapeze. "She's our lead aerial apparatus, but she's been going through some self-doubt lately. Apparently she doesn't think she's graceful enough for professional work."
"It's... she's beautiful," Alex said, and found that he meant it. The trapeze was elegant and perfectly balanced, with a polished bar that gleamed even in the strange lighting of the equipment room.
Harmony's sighing stopped immediately. The trapeze straightened up and began swaying in what looked suspiciously like a pleased manner.
"Oh, she likes you," Riley observed. "That's good. She hasn't responded positively to anyone since Marcus the accountant told her she had 'good structural integrity for tax purposes.' Apparently that's not the kind of compliment aerial equipment prefers."
"Can I... can I try it?" Alex asked, surprising himself. He'd never been particularly athletic, but something about Harmony's elegant movement made him want to experience that kind of grace, even if only for a moment.
"Are you sure?" Riley asked. "The rigging is perfectly safe, but Harmony can be a little enthusiastic when she likes someone."
"I'm sure. How hard can it be?"
Riley and several pieces of nearby equipment shared what Alex would have sworn was a meaningful look.
"Famous last words," muttered the safety net.
Riley helped Alex into a harness and explained the basics while Harmony swayed with increasing excitement. "Just hold on tight, let her guide you, and whatever you do, don't try to control the movement. Harmony knows what she's doing."
Alex grasped the polished bar, and immediately understood what Riley meant about the trapeze being enthusiastic. Harmony practically leaped into motion, carrying him up and out of the equipment room through an opening he was certain hadn't been there moments before.
The sensation was incredible. Alex found himself soaring through the air with a grace he'd never possessed on the ground, Harmony responding to his slightest movement as if they were dancing together. For a few magical moments, he understood what it felt like to fly.
That's when things went spectacularly wrong in the way that seemed to be becoming his specialty.
Alex felt something shift in the rigging above him. Not dangerously—everything still felt secure—but as if some fundamental component had decided to upgrade itself without consulting anyone. Harmony began moving faster, carrying him in increasingly complex patterns that seemed to generate their own momentum.
"This is wonderful!" Alex called down to Riley, who was watching with growing concern.
"Alex," she called back, "I think you should come down now!"
"Why? This feels amazing!"
"Because," Socrates' voice boomed from somewhere below, "I believe you and Harmony have accidentally created a perpetual motion machine, and the tent is starting to take notes."
Alex looked up at the rigging and realized that Socrates was right. The mechanism above him was no longer just supporting his weight—it was actively generating energy. Each swing was producing more momentum than the last, and the entire apparatus was glowing with a soft blue light that probably wasn't standard equipment feature.
"Harmony," Alex said to the trapeze, "I think we might have a problem."
Harmony made a sound that could only be described as excited giggling, and suddenly they were moving so fast that the circus below became a blur of colors and movement.
"INCOMING!" Riley shouted, and Alex saw the tent flaps open wide as if preparing for something.
"Incoming what?" Alex yelled, but he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
The perpetual motion machine that had once been a simple trapeze rig launched Alex and Harmony up through the peak of the tent like a cork from a champagne bottle. Alex found himself flying through the afternoon sky with a trapeze that was clearly having the time of its life, while below him the circus grew smaller and smaller.
"Okay," he said to Harmony as they reached the apex of their trajectory, "this is definitely not standard procedure."
Harmony seemed to shrug as much as a piece of aerial equipment could shrug, and then they were falling—not toward the circus, but toward what looked like a large gathering of people in formal attire about half a mile away.
"Oh no," Alex realized as the scene below became clearer. "Is that a wedding?"
It was indeed a wedding, and from Alex's aerial perspective, he could see that it was not going well. The bride and groom were standing at opposite ends of what should have been the altar, clearly in the middle of some kind of heated argument. The wedding guests were divided into what appeared to be opposing camps, and there was a general air of impending disaster that had nothing to do with people falling from the sky.
"Harmony," Alex said urgently, "please tell me you know how to land gracefully."
Harmony's response was to execute a series of aerial maneuvers that would have impressed Olympic gymnasts, positioning Alex for what turned out to be a perfect landing directly between the arguing couple.
The bride, a woman in her thirties with the kind of expression that suggested the day had not been going according to plan, stared at Alex in shock. The groom, equally surprised, stopped mid-sentence in what sounded like it had been an unflattering comparison between his bride and his mother.
The wedding guests fell silent, staring at the man who had just dropped from the sky carrying a trapeze that was still glowing with satisfied blue light.
"Um," Alex said, still holding onto Harmony, "sorry to drop in like this. Are you two okay?"
The bride looked at Alex, then at the groom, then back at Alex. "Did you just fall from heaven?"
"Actually, I fell from a circus. But the question stands—are you two okay? Because from up there, it looked like you were having some kind of disagreement."
The groom, whose face was still red from whatever argument had been interrupted, gestured helplessly. "She wants to change the vows! At the altar! In front of everyone!"
"Because the vows you wrote are terrible!" the bride shot back. "You compared our love to a tax write-off, Harold! A tax write-off!"
Alex looked between them, still holding Harmony, who had settled into a gentle sway as if enjoying the drama. "Harold, did you really compare your love to a tax write-off?"
"It was meant to be romantic! Tax write-offs are useful! They save you money! They're practical!"
The bride—Alex assumed her name was not actually "Tax Write-off"—threw her bouquet in the air in frustration. "See? This is exactly what I mean! Everything is practical with you! Where's the romance? Where's the passion? Where's the magic?"
Alex found himself speaking before his brain could catch up with his mouth. "You know, from where I was hanging, I could see both of your faces, and you both looked heartbroken. Not angry—heartbroken. Like you both wanted something beautiful and romantic, but you didn't know how to ask for it."
The couple stared at him. The wedding guests leaned forward, apparently more interested in the man who'd fallen from the sky than they had been in the ceremony.
"Harold," Alex continued, "what did you really want to say in your vows?"
Harold looked down at his feet. "I wanted to say that she makes ordinary moments feel like magic. That when she laughs, it sounds like music that I want to listen to forever. That she's the best part of every day, and I can't imagine my life without her."
The bride's expression softened. "Harold..."
"And you," Alex said, turning to the bride, "what did you want to hear?"
"I wanted to hear that he thinks I'm worth more than convenience," she said quietly. "That choosing me wasn't practical, but necessary. That love isn't about usefulness—it's about choosing someone even when it doesn't make sense."
Harold took a step toward her. "Margaret, marrying you is the most impractical, illogical, completely irrational decision I've ever made. And it's the only decision I've ever made that feels completely right."
Margaret smiled through tears that had nothing to do with frustration. "That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
"I just needed some perspective," Harold said, glancing at Alex. "Sometimes it takes someone falling from the sky to help you see what's really important."
The wedding guests burst into applause, and the officiant, who had been standing frozen in shock since Alex's arrival, cleared his throat. "Well, shall we... continue with the ceremony?"
As Harold and Margaret exchanged the vows they'd actually wanted to say all along, Alex began to quietly edge toward the back of the gathering, still carrying Harmony.
"Excuse me," called a woman in an elaborate hat, "you're not leaving, are you? That was the most romantic thing I've ever seen! Are you available for other weddings?"
"Oh, I'm not actually—"
"Professional wedding crasher!" called someone else. "Brilliant! Here's my card!"
Before Alex could explain that falling from the sky wasn't exactly a service he offered, several people had pressed business cards into his free hand and booked him for various upcoming events.
"I'll pay you five hundred dollars to drop into my daughter's sweet sixteen!" called a man in an expensive suit.
"A thousand for my anniversary party!" countered a woman with pearls that probably cost more than Alex's former annual salary.
"I really should get back to my circus," Alex tried to explain, but Harmony seemed to have other ideas. The trapeze began glowing again, apparently energized by all the positive attention.
"Your circus?" Margaret, now officially married and glowing with happiness, approached with her new husband. "You own a circus?"
"As of this morning, yes. It's been a very unusual day."
"We were looking for entertainment for our reception," Harold said. "The band cancelled, and we thought we'd have to settle for my cousin's karaoke machine."
"I'm sure the circus would be happy to perform," Alex found himself saying, even though he had no idea if that was true. "We have acrobatic accountants."
"Acrobatic accountants?" Margaret clapped her hands. "That sounds amazing! And so unique!"
Harmony gave an excited little bounce, and Alex realized the trapeze was already planning the performance in whatever way trapeze equipment planned things.
"I should probably call and let them know," Alex said, pulling out his phone.
Riley answered on the first ring. "Alex! Are you okay? The tent is having anxiety attacks because you disappeared through the roof!"
"I'm fine. I'm at a wedding. I think I accidentally became a wedding crasher, and now we're apparently providing entertainment for the reception."
"Oh, that's wonderful! We love weddings! Danny's great with wedding receptions—house cats usually avoid large gatherings, so he can actually relax. And the accountants have been working on a new routine that combines tax advice with synchronized swimming. Well, synchronized flying, but the principle is the same."
"Can you bring everyone over? I have no idea how to get back—Harmony and I seem to have created some kind of physics violation."
"Not a problem! The tent can walk when it needs to. We'll be there in twenty minutes. The tent's very excited—it's never been to a wedding before."
Alex hung up and turned to find the entire wedding party looking at him with anticipation.
"They're on their way," he announced.
Margaret beamed. "This is already the best wedding ever. I can't wait to tell people that our entertainment literally fell from the sky."
"Speaking of which," Harold added, "how exactly did you fall from the sky? And why are you glowing?"
Alex looked down at himself and realized that he was indeed glowing with the same blue light as Harmony. Apparently, creating perpetual motion machines had side effects.
"That," he said with a smile that was becoming his standard response to impossible situations, "is a very long story."
As if on cue, a cheerful rumbling sound approached from the distance, and Alex turned to see the circus tent walking across the landscape on what appeared to be dozens of tiny legs, like a massive, striped, incredibly cheerful spider.
The wedding guests stared in amazement, and someone started applauding again.
Alex Sterling, professional wedding crasher and amateur physics violator, realized that his day was far from over.
But for the first time in his life, that felt like the best possible news.