Mac blinked.

Or, at least he thought he did. Soon, however, he discovered that no matter how hard he tried: he could not yet move a muscle.

He could, however, hear almost everything going on around him. There were… voices? Yes, several voices, in fact. He had trouble distinguishing between the different voices at first. But once he was able to, most of the chatter’s purpose became somewhat clear:

“Will he be okay?” said a female voice. One which he found surprisingly soothing to hear. “Ooh, I hope he wakes up soon!”

“He should be up any minute now.” Said a high, yet gruffly masculine voice; “You see? He relaxed just now when he heard your voice, so at least something's normal."

"You know, you really should be more careful, Broad Feather!” The sturdy voice said, fading slightly on the last bit as if the owner had turned his head to the left.

“I’ll apologize to him when he comes to, but I’m serious, man! The poor guy came out of nowhere!” said a plainer voice, with a bit of an accent that Mac couldn’t quite place.

There was a lot more chatter going on in the background, but he didn’t even bother trying to decipher all that. He was too busy trying to figure out who the heck they were all talking about. If he could just open his eyes, he might be able to see what was going on.

But, before the conversation could finish, Mac felt a jolting pain both on and in his head. He cried out, limbs bolting every which way. Instantly, his eyes were barraged by waves of vibrant color and stunning light, even a cool summer afternoon such as that day seemed like staring into the surface of the sun with a headache such as his. And he soon found himself wondering how many pints he'd had the night before.

But it wasn’t long before reason returned, and he realized that the crowd was referring to him. So when his sight readjusted, and his headache cleared, he was at least in a less pained state when he started to rise.

He lifted his head with a blink to clear his vision, and froze when he saw three creatures of the oddest sort sitting in front of him: a young, white-coated mare, an auburn stallion with a slim beard decorating his chin and upper lip, and the third looked to be a teenager.

Interestingly enough; after a sizeable knock on the head, it was hard for Mac to tell whether the last one was male or female.

Mac looked down to his hand, only to find he had none. In fact, he found two blunt limbs in place of each hand. He had, much to his current surprise, become a pony...

... like you do.

When his eyes made contact with the mare’s, he thought he saw two dark shapes fan out behind him. But, when he turned to see what they were, they seemed to have moved out of the way: staying just out of his sight.

After turning back, and staring blankly at the three- trying to remember not only where he was, but how in the heck he got here -he looked directly at the stallion, and decided to risk a conversation:

“Pardon me, sir, but I seem to have had quite a... erm... clout on the head. If you could direct me to the nearest restroom: I would be most grateful.”

He shook his head to try and decipher the odd accent he had just used, and why he had used it. He was distracted yet again when he began to feel a strange sensation on his back, as if there was a pair of limbs that were not there before.

The brown-haired pony scoffed.

“You must've hit him harder than I thought, Feather.” He mumbled, before gesturing to a large building reminiscent of a wedding cake: “Nearest public bathroom is at the boutique.”

Mac thanked him and walked off.

As he walked awkwardly down the dirt street- after getting somewhat used to being four-legged, which didn’t take as long as one would think –memories started flashing into Mac’s head:

“It is a world you are most familiar with.”

“When do you think you’ll be home?”

“Do you think it’s time for us to turn?”

“You can’t tell a friend from a foe in the dark.”

“The fate of both worlds lies in your hands.”

Mac looked up at the sky after hearing that last voice in his head: cooler and cleaner than all of the other memories.

‘I didn’t hear that before…’ he thought, before shrugging it off as a trick of the mind. Most of the memories surging into his mind consisted of the events before he came into this world. But some, more recent, seemed… odd now that he thought about them. He wondered if all the things he had read and seen about Equestria were true.

And then there was the world itself, it was all too colorful: the gentle, rolling hills to his left were a vibrant green, that slowly faded to a light blue in the distance. The sky was a variant of cyan that could only be described in one word: passionate. And the sun shone like a golden globe in the sky, its warm rays bringing comfort to all that felt them.

It was also too peaceful: as a soothing summer breeze flitted through the leaves around him, and wafted into his face with a refreshing coolness. The seasonal heat was intense, but strangely not unbearable. Birds chirped form the branches, squirrels chittered and chased one another, and even the commotion of ponies walking back and forth was nearly melodious.

As he looked around him, Mac saw that even the inhabitants were indeed mostly candy-colored.

Mac observed a Unicorn with whitish-blue hair walking out of a nearby wagon. And to his right, he spotted a caramel-colored Earth Pony with spiky brown hair walking beside a grey mare with blonde hair; and her fierce yellow eyes were lopsidedly crossed.

Mac felt a presence behind him: he turned around and saw that the strange Pegasus teen- whom he recognized from when he awoke in the middle of the street -was following him. He now noticed that this pony's coat was a darker blue than he had first thought.

The teen paused when he saw Mac turn, then swallowed hard and trotted up. Mac looked behind his shoulders and saw a pair of feathery shapes.

“Clearly a Pegasus… by the wings.” Mac said plainly.

As the teen walked up, Mac gave a suspicious growl: “What do you want, kid?”

The boy looked away for a moment, making Mac feel unsure of what to make of him.

“The name’s Feather. Broad Feather, actually, Mac.” The foal said, now told as a colt by the muzzle, and voice. He looked Mac in the eye, “I’m sorry I rammed into you back there, I should have been more careful. But… the sky was clear, and I hadn't spotted you. So forgive me if I'm rude in asking this: but, where in the hay did you come from?”

Mac softened his glare, “I am sorry if I seem to have forgotten you, Broad Feather.” He said calmly, “But I’m sure it’s not your fault. I just need time to clear my head of this… amnesia.” He nodded towards the structure which he had been told was a boutique. The colt nodded, and walked back down the street.

Mac stood there, and watched him for a short while. But soon, he finally turned and walked up to the odd building. He noticed a sign above the door: it was black, and read “Carousel Boutique” in bright, fanciful pearl lettering. Mac opened the door casually, and walked in.

He was instantly taken aback by the sheer scale of the interior: it had clothes of all different styles, and textures, and seasons, and colors, and patterns, and occasions, and sizes, and genders, and races, and length.

After what seemed like hours of standing there marveling at all the complex uniqueness of each single piece, Mac heard a proper voice that flowed like a rolling brook off to his left:

“Can I help you in any way, Mac?”

He turned his head, and saw a purple-haired Unicorn mare with a faint ivory hue to her feathers fitting a dress onto a dummy. She had combed her hair into a flat spiral that ran down her left shoulder.

His train of thought was interrupted, however, when she tied up the back of the dress. It was average enough at first: she took the two sides of the back and held them together. But then an odd blue glow arose from the depths of her horn, and danced around the outside of it. Six silver strings attached to the lower back became enveloped in a similar glow, and slowly rose: braiding themselves into two ropes, as if dancing to a silent melody. The ropes then wove themselves, loop by loop, until they secured the dress firmly in place. The mare looked back over towards Mac as the ropes tied into a knot, and the light faded from her horn.

“Miss Rarity..?” Mac said; he was dumbfounded by what he had just witnessed. He deduced that she was indeed able to use magic, like the popular show back home predicted.

“Miss?” Rarity scoffed, before noticing his awestruck facade.

“Mac, are you feeling alright?” she asked: giving him a confused smile.

‘Holy Celestia! Rarity knows my name?’

“Sorry about that... I’m… err... dealing with memory problems.” Mac stumbled, avoiding eye contact. “Is… is there a bathroom nearby?”

Rarity cocked her head at him slightly and gave him a concerned grin. She slowly pointed at a staircase, and stated: “First door on the right.”

Mac thanked her hastily as he turned, and walked off.

As soon as Mac went into the restroom, he darted to the nearest sink, and splashed water on his face: activating the device concealed in his ear.

A familiar voice crackled through the speaker: “H-hello? D-d-d-d-does it work?” it said, slowly clearing from the static.

“Well, Orion!” Mac exclaimed joyfully, his usual optimism returning. “So the Prophet trusts you after all!”

“No, he just knew that you wouldn’t be comfortable working with anyone else.” Orion chuckled.

Mac chuckled, before his eyes finally landed on the mirror before him. He groaned audibly as his smile vanished.

“What happened?” Orion chortled gleefully; “You look in the mirror?”

Mac rolled his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you knew about this?” he asked indignantly.

"Since you walked up to the mirror." Orion chuckled, slowly descending into a fit of laughter.

In the mirror: Mac saw a Pegasus who somehow resembled his old self slightly, but had some significant changes. It had a blackish hue to its coat, while its slick mane was a deep purple, with two magenta stripes. Even his wings were black as tar.

He had no chin speak of, and therefore could easily be mistaken for a mare. But to him, the most striking features were the eyes: they were crimson. Not just red as blood, but a most deep and dark crimson. And they were not aided by glasses as his old ones were. In fact, he could easily pick out the scratches and notches in the wall's reflection.

Mac rested his forehead in his hoof and drew an obvious conclusion from Orion’s choice of words:

“You can see me, can’t you?” he asked, his voice quickly displaying his annoyance at the idea. Just how well could that horse-assed jerk see him across the worlds?

"Well, only your reflection.” Orion said after taking a few breaths. “But alas, no time to tease you on your masculine look: it's time to get to work. You’ve already met Rarity, right?”

“Yes, and someone named Broad Feather.”

“Excellent!” Orion said, still a little short of breath from his laughing fit: “You have six more people to meet- let me see their names- ah, here’s a full list of people you need to meet on the first day: Broad Feather, Patient Silence, Myra Evershy, Fluttershy, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, and Applejack. I’m responsible instructing you on what to say, if you don’t hear any instructions; just be yourself.”

“I got it.” Mac said coolly, starting to enjoy the idea of conversing with the old show's heroins. He stood straight and walked to the door. When he was walking down the stairs, he was surprised to nearly trip over a short, bipedal dragon.

“Oh, and there’s Spike, of course: Twilight’s errand-boy of sorts.” Orion said. He, apparently, was also startled by the drake’s sudden appearance.

Spike was about a foot short of being eye-level with Mac, though he seemed to be only a few years younger. He was a bright purple with belly scales that shone like emerald. And his green eyes searched Mac’s crimson ones thoughtfully.

“Well, Spike!” Mac said, “How’s it been?” he asked nervously, wondering just how much the reptile could see in his eyes.

“Mac… Is there anything I should be concerned with?” the dragon inquired slowly.

“No.” Mac shrugged, “Nothing to worry about. Why?”

Spike nodded bluntly. “You've been out of town for quite a while," he stated, walking off. "Perhaps you should go home and get some rest in, or something...”

“Well, that was awkward.” Mac laughed to himself as he watched Spike saunter outside.

“Indeed. Walk over to Rarity and see if you can get another conversation going.” Orion suggested. Mac nodded, and walked up to the seamstress as she floated a rose dress to a customer. Mac waited until the exchange finished before he walked up to her.

“Miss Rarity?” he asked again. Rarity rolled her eyes, and looked over at him with a sad smile.

“I take it you still don’t remember me.” She sighed.

“Looks like you already took care of your excuse.” Orion chuckled.

Mac shrugged, and flattened his ears; “Sorry, no.”

“Suggest going to the library, Twilight should be there.” Orion advised.

Mac offered a weak smile. “I do seem to remember a library, maybe that’ll jog the rest of my memory?”

Rarity gave him a knowing grin, and all but screamed: “That should do it!”

She quickly cleared her throat, and regained her composure. “You and Myra were always hanging out at the Golden Oak, and then at Twi’s palace. I suppose if anything will work, that will!"

Mac stared blankly, and raised a brow. “Myra? Uh… sure?”

Rarity shook her head: a frown of concern becoming ever so apparent across her face.

“Disappointing, I thought that at least her name would jog your memory, considering how much time you two spend there.” She sighed, before waving him towards the door. “The Castle is down at the end of the street, you can't miss it.”

Mac offered her another apologetic smile, and walked out of the store, looking ahead.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two: Reconnaissance. Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 58 Minutes