Author's Notes:

Google Docs Link should you want it.

Special thanks to my editor, EverfreePony, and my main pre-reader and basically-co-author, SnakeEye

First Encounter

I woke up from an incredibly restful night of slumber. It hadn’t been a good one, but it was hard to believe I’d slept so well given where I’d slept. At first I’d been a bit surprised at the location I found myself in, but that quickly passed as I recalled the events of the day before.

My dreams had been filled with images and diagrams of guns. Pistols, submachine guns, shotguns, and rifles. Oh, the rifles were the best part. They were built for precision; the longer barrel allowed the bullets to gain more momentum from the gunpowder’s ignition and the air expansion that followed. If only I’d known about them back in the stable… I definitely would have taken the rifle that had lain in front of me in the armoury, ready to be taken. I couldn’t go back for it now, unless I guessed Arcane Spark’s password to open it back up. But she didn’t sound like a pony whose password I could just guess—not that I was any good at that to begin with.

For a second I contemplated the option of going back to wait in front of the stable in the off-chance that somepony would open the door. In the next second, my mind reminded me of all the reasons I hadn’t done that. If I didn’t get incredibly lucky, I’d run out of water, and then food, and I’d lose all hope of finding—

Suddenly, I something appeared in my peripheral vision. I sat up and turned my head, noticing the red bar on my EFS. It was moving slowly and definitely not directly in my direction, so a part of myself dared hope it wasn’t here for me. I moved my head left to right, and figured out it was at least a couple of meters away. I unholstered my pistol, and then, recalling something from The Mechanical Wonders of Firearms, reattached the gun to my harness. Instead I gripped the shotgun with my magic. That thing was apparently very destructive in close quarters, according to the book. Much more so than a pistol.

I slowly opened the door. Nothing in the red mark’s movements seemed to indicate any reaction to that. Maybe it’s another one of those bloatsprites… Heck, I hope not. I peeked my head around the corner and saw… nothing. Lucky. It was outside the house. I carefully advanced into the room, and the bar moved behind the kitchen wall. I glanced through the window and spotted the most hideous creature I’d ever encountered. Admittedly that didn’t mean much considering I’d only seen ponies and bloatsprites. It was furless, but not green like the bugs. It had sharp and long front teeth, but they weren’t pointy canines like a carnivore’s, just flat and thin. Worse, it noticed me. I quickly figured out it wasn’t very smart, as it tried to jump at me, but ended up thumping against the wall.

I unlocked then opened the front door, and the thing just stayed behind the wall. I tried walking out and immediately stepped on what had to be the single creakiest plank in the entirety of Equestria. Of course, the horrible creature started running the moment it heard me. It turned the corner, and ended up in ideal shotgun range, so I clicked into SATS. The creature was apparently a mole rat. I queued up my single shot at its chest and let the spell work its magic. I watched as a spray of metal left my gun and shredded the creature’s face and body. Thankfully, its blood was red and normal, not like whatever that bug was made of. This gore didn’t gross me as much as the sprite’s, but it didn’t amuse me like my father’s had, either.

Whatever. I closed the door in front of the mole rat's corpse and headed back to the bedroom. I was awake and didn’t have much time to waste. I needed to catch up with Mother, and I was really running low on food.

Hungry, I considered emptying another one of my cans, but decided against it. I didn’t know how long they needed to last. I’d never had to ration my food like this, but I’d read about it. Instead, I used the bathroom, then put on my saddlebags, ready to leave.

As I walked out of the room, I noticed a spark near the table. I moved my head back and spotted a small sphere reflecting the ambient light. Curious, I approached it and picked it up with my telekinesis.

I blinked and suddenly felt tired. I found myself in a room with grey concrete walls. They reminded me of the stable’s, but weren’t similar at all past their colour. These walls were flat, and the concrete didn’t contain any metal at all. Additionally, I could see a window to my left. I tried to move my head to get a better look, but my body didn’t respond. Instead, I turned the other way. What is this place? Is this a dream? Wasn’t I just somewhere completely different?

My eyes looked at the table in front of me and locked on the cup sitting on it. The distinct smell of coffee hit my nostrils. I felt my horn glow, and pink magic enveloped the cup. My magic wasn’t pink, though. It was red. Right?

I floated the cup over to my lips and took a sip. The dark liquid smelled great, and I could feel its heat even before it reached my tongue. When it did, I found out the taste was bitter, and only had disappointing aftertones of the smell. No wonder Mother never drank it, unlike other grown-ups. I frowned and looked towards a small bowl with a spoon sticking out of it. My pink shine enveloped the spoon, lifting it towards the cup and losing some of the sugar along the way. I groaned and sighed, but didn’t do anything about the grains now littering the table. I repeated the motion for two additional spoonfuls of sugar, this time not spilling any.

The more this went on, the more confused I was. I wasn’t doing those actions, was I? I wasn’t in control of my body. Who was, then? What the heck is going on?

My telekinesis stirred the sugar into the black liquid. I dreaded drinking more, but couldn’t stop the motion. With the sugar I’d just added, it was still just as bitter, but at least each swig rewarded me with a sweet aftertaste, almost making it worth drinking. An idea crossed my mind, and I concentrated on pushing the mug away, but it always stayed near my mouth, occasionally floating up to allow me a sip. So I can’t even influence my body in the slightest way.

Despite my best efforts, I finished the cup and moved off the chair I’d been sitting on. When had I even sat down? I walked to the front door and attempted to open it. To my surprise, it didn’t budge. Unbothered, I turned towards a couch and lifted a purse from it and onto my neck. I opened it and saw a wallet, a brush, and a keyring. Content, I closed it again.

Then I felt myself channel magic again. This time it wasn’t simple telekinesis. The amount of power that coursed through my horn was much higher than you would normally commit to levitation. It was also much more elaborate than any of my basic spells. The way I herded energy ever so slightly reminded me of my tool conjuring spell, but only certain parts. The rest felt completely nonsensical. Like a labyrinth of unrelated corridors, some of which eventually merged before splitting again. Then, in an instant, the channel finished, and the world turned hot pink for a split second before returning to duller colours. When my eyes adjusted, I noticed I was out on the street. Since when do I know teleportation‽

I felt a pleasant warmth on my right side. I meant to turn to it, but instead I turned left and started walking. While the buildings were all equally boring shades of black, white, and grey, they were illuminated by the most beautiful and pure light that apparently came from behind me. I really wanted to turn and look at it, but instead, my legs simply carried me forward.

Some ponies walked on the road, pulling carts behind them. Others, like myself, trotted on the sidewalk. It reminded me of when stable ponies would walk around in the corridors in groups, though I was confident there were more individuals here than I’d ever seen at once. Suddenly a pony flew above me, and I lifted my head just in time to see a white pegasus disappear from my vision. When I levelled my gaze, I noticed something odd. I was as tall as the other adults on the crowded avenue.

This walk continued on for several more minutes, giving me time to properly process the situation. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t do anything to influence my actions. Was this some kind of fever dream? Was I just disconnected with the rest of my mind, the one that was walking away from this source of warmth and light? Was I still me? Did anything about my life actually exist? Did Stable 4 still exist? Did I still exist? Was I some sort of spectre lost in the aether?

My line of increasingly panicked thoughts came to a stop as I arrived in front of a building. The sign on its front side read “Stable-Tec R&D”. So at least Stable-Tec exists. I approached it, and the automatic doors opened, inviting me inside. I set my eyes on an empty desk in the middle of the large entrance room; it had a sign labelled “Reception”. I advanced towards it, rang the little bell sitting on it, and ended up waiting for a few long minutes until a voice called out, “Miss Arcane Spark?”

I turned towards it and spotted a white-coated pegasus with a pink and black mane. Was she the same I’d seen outside earlier?

Now, if feeling myself cast magic had been a slightly odd experience, hearing and feeling myself speak was downright bizarre. “Yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?” I blurted out in a voice that I recognised as not my own. I could feel a forced smile on my muzzle.

The other mare let out a short giggle, smiled and replied, “That’s my line.” She pointed to the desk. “I’m the receptionist, I’m just late today. Anyway, I’m supposed to show you around, Miss Arcane Spark.”

“Please, just Spark is fine.” The smile on my face grew genuine, and my mind finally recognised the voice. It belonged to the pony in the recording, but sounded much happier, much lighter. I started putting together the pieces of this puzzle. I was viewing the memory of a long dead mare, somehow. I didn’t know how exactly, but I suspected it was a spell built into that weird orb I’d tried picking up. Some sort of memory-viewing talisman?

During my reflection, the two mares had continued their conversation, and the receptionist walked towards her desk. She dug into a drawer and pulled out a small sign engraved with the text “Be Right Back” onto it, before placing it on the table. She motioned to me—Arcane Spark?—to follow her, and left towards the back of the building. Spark followed her, eyes briefly locking onto her rump before abruptly looking away. I had trouble understanding why. Apparently, adults have always been odd, even before the war.

What I paid attention to was the pair of wings adorning her sides. I’d never seen a pegasus before. I’d read about them, but actually seeing one in person wasn’t the same as a textual description. Well, I suppose I still haven’t seen one in person, since I’m not currently myself.

The two walked around in the building, the pegasus would show Spark a room and tell her about it. There’d been an employee lounge, a meeting room, and many other insignificant places. Whenever the two would make eye contact, I could feel Spark’s heartbeat quicken. Even more so when the alabaster mare smiled.

Was that love? Kind of underwhelming, actually. Finally, the two arrived at a closed door, and the receptionist said, “And this would be your office. Feel free to ask me if you need anything else. Reception is number zero on the phone.”

Spark nodded, then asked, “You haven’t told me your name, miss…”

“Zephyr Aurora, pleasure to meet you,” she replied.

“Likewise,” I heard Spark say.

Then I blinked, and I was back in the hut in the forest. I looked at the black orb on the ground, then approached and rolled it over with my hoof, noticing the label stuck to it. The paper was yellowed and the text faded, so much that I could barely make it out. I squinted and read ‘1st day job + meet Aurora’.

The experience had been confusing and very discomforting. I decided I would never willingly subject myself to it again. The idea of not being able to control my body while staying fully conscious was incredibly scary to me, and I’d come very close to experiencing it with that orb. Still, the memory itself was very interesting, and I felt a strange curiosity. I wanted to learn more about Arcane and how she’d lost her spark.

I glanced over at the skeleton, feeling oddly melancholic. Yesterday it had been easy to dismiss her as just one of the millions of ponies who’d died during the war. Even in the stable it was easy to distance myself from the occasional dead pony every other month. The only death that had somewhat impacted me had been Candy’s father’s. The usually happy mare had stopped smiling as much, and eventually started visiting less and less, before finally stopping altogether.

And yet, somehow, Arcane’s death felt even more personal. Maybe because I’d literally been in her body? I suspected that had to be part of the reason, if not the entirety of it. I didn’t like it one bit. I had more important things to think about than the fate of some Stable-Tec mare.

As much as I wanted to leave right now, I still couldn’t bring myself to willingly forget her. I took her memory orb and placed it into my saddlebags—this time with my mouth and not magic—and started moving.

I was halfway out the front door when I decided to pack the quilt—despite its holes it had kept me warm during the night.

The trip downhill had been uneventful so far. It was the same zig-zaggy road I’d had to follow from the stable down. The only thing that had happened was I’d found and killed another mole rat. I’d also encountered another bloatsprite, but didn’t bother shooting at it. Not worth the bullets or the disgusting way it would die. I ended up reading the first aid manual, levitating it in front of me as I walked.

Eventually, my surroundings became progressively obscured by fog, and soon enough, it was thick enough that I couldn’t see very far. Past the familiar ten metres, everything was replaced with a white wall. I couldn’t help but be reassured by the return of a more familiar scale of distances.

What did not reassure me, however, were the occasional red bars deep in the fog. I could tell they were far away, but I couldn’t tell what they were, and that worried me. I could deal with mole rats and bloatsprites—albeit I really hated the latter—but I couldn’t tell if those bars were just as easy to dispose of.

The first unidentified red bar set the tone for the rest of my walk. Apprehensive, I never loosened my magic grasp on my shotgun, even when there were no markers at all. It was strange; uphill, near Spark’s hut, I’d felt lost and later vulnerable in the open. However, I’d also appreciated how well I could see everything; how well an EFS bar translated to an actual creature, and not just something, somewhere in the stable. Down here, on the other hand? I felt both as claustrophobic as in the stable, while also being as vulnerable as anywhere else outside.

Through some lucky twist or fold in the fabric of the universe nothing attacked me.

Several dreadful hours later, I started hearing gunshots and ponies yelling in the distance, somewhere in front of me. As I continued following the road, four red bars blinked into existence on my EFS. It looked like they were in the forest, and that I likely could just avoid them by continuing on my way.

My mind split in several different thought directions. Part of me was curious and wanted to see what kinds of ponies they were. Their presence meant the outside wasn’t deserted! I wasn’t alone! I wanted to know who lived out here.

After a gunshot, one of them cried out, “Can you stop missing, you horny cunt?” to which another yell replied, “And can you shut the fuck up?” What is it with adults and crude language? Do you guys really need to swear every other sentence?

On the other hoof, this outburst as well as the fact that their bars were an angry red encouraged me to fear for my safety. If I approached them, I’d likely get attacked.

I winced as I realised another part of me wanted them to attack me, just to give me a pretext for blowing holes through their skulls. I wanted to see somepony’s brains fly about like Concerto’s had. I shook my head, as if that would help me chase away those thoughts. I had more important things to set my mind on.

Finally, I decided to avoid them. I didn’t know how well they were armed, and I didn’t like risking my life out of pure curiosity. As I continued down the road, I saw the trees on the side start to thin. I was approaching a clearing, and the bars were also nearby. As my luck would have it, it turned out that I couldn’t easily avoid them.

Given how close one of them was, I decided to slow down my pace and carefully take each of my steps, to prevent my hooves from clacking on the concrete. I hoped the fog was thick enough to conceal me as I walked by.

I froze in place as I realised that sneaking around would be much harder up here. Ponies were definitely used to looking at their PipBucks’ EFS. Why would they not? It was so much more convenient when you didn’t have to worry about verticality. The thought was terrifying. I hated having to rely on my luck, but now it seemed like the only way to get past them would be if they were too busy with… whatever they were doing to notice me.

I slowly moved forward, staring at where the marks were. Emerging into the clearing, I immediately saw the shape of a pony, partly obscured by the fog. I could hardly make out his or her features, but I could tell their gaze wasn’t on me.

I took another look around, and noticed the outline of a building that I suspected was next to the road. Another shot rang out. Curiosity got the best of me, and I approached the pony closest to me, who turned out to be a light brown buck.

I could see he wore black leather barding covered with tens of shiny metal spikes. Sticking out from the sides of his muzzle was a long matte metallic bar with a bend at each end. His left ear was mostly missing, and only the crescent shaped base remained. Had it been blown off by something circular? To my utter surprise, he did not seem to be wearing a PipBuck. Maybe they just weren’t as common up here? Anyway, I turned my attention to the other bars.

In the distance, I could see the silhouette of a pony and some large mutated animal pushing against each other. A few meters away from them, a unicorn was levitating a rifle. She wasn’t aiming properly, she wasn’t even looking down the barrel! The mare was just floating the gun next to her, roughly pointing in the direction of the animal. I didn’t have much experience aiming weapons outside of SATS, but even I knew this! That’s what the iron sights were supposed to help with!

Naturally, the only one to notice when I tripped on a branch was mister Metal Bar, who turned around immediately.

His eyes locked onto me, and he laughed maniacally before running at me. The look on his face told me he wanted to hurt me. He would hurt me. My mind flashed the memory of my father in front of the stable. No. I wouldn’t let him hurt me.

Did he want to hurt me? Yes. Was he dangerous? Quite possibly. Was he smart? Definitely not. Why would you charge a pony who has a shotgun?

I clicked the SATS button and queued my one shot to his face. I considered aiming for his chest, but I couldn’t tell how well the pellets would pierce through the thick leather, and I didn’t have the luxury to experiment. I released the spell and giggled gleefully as the buckshot turned his head into red confetti. A distant part of me screamed this wasn’t a normal reaction to the situation, but because the sound of my shot had alerted the other two, I swiftly ignored it and bolted for the road.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. Trying to escape back up the mountain would have been foolish, so instead I ran towards the building. When I arrived at its corner, I heard a gunshot, and one of the red bars winked out. The unicorn had finally somehow hit the animal.

Then, one of them started moving closer and closer, and I could hear a pony running towards the corner of the building. I reloaded a shell into my weapon. I would use SATS to kill her as soon as she turned the corner.

I waited a few seconds until the bar came into the centre of my vision, and clicked the button right as I saw the tip of her gun—this idiot was levitating it way ahead of her, giving me ample time to react. SATS, however, didn’t activate. Instead, the bar under my EFS just flashed red. It needed time to recharge! Of course, how did I not think of that?

Luckily for me, it seemed like the mare hadn’t expected me to wait around the corner—she wasn’t wearing a PipBuck either. I lifted my shotgun a little, and without following my own aiming advice, pulled the trigger. It’s not like the buckshot needed surgical precision.

Because I’d badly aimed my shot, it hadn’t completely confettified her skull—just the right side of her face. This, however, was still enough to make her drop the rifle. I let go of my shotgun and grabbed her rusted gun instead. I swiftly put a bullet straight into her left eye and her marker faded.

Then I noticed the hoofsteps on concrete behind me, as well as the red bar that accompanied them. I immediately realised my mistake and its implications. I spun around to see a pony wielding a shovel, running at full speed towards me. I tried to shoot him with the rifle, but it just harmlessly clicked, no matter how much I pulled the trigger. I’m so screwed…

The stallion moved closer and closer with each second I wasted. Panicking, I fumbled for my pistol. When I finally had it in my telekinetic grasp, he was close enough to slash at me. I threw my head back just in time to narrowly avoid the tip of his weapon. Unfortunately for me, my chest was still well in its trajectory, and a burning pain scorched my nerves as it sliced my skin open. I screamed, vision blurring with tears. I aimed the pistol in front of me and fired blindly until I emptied the magazine. I couldn’t tell how many shots had landed, or how badly I’d injured him, but given that he hadn’t slashed at me again, I dared hope he was at least incapacitated.

I spun around again, turned the corner and hysterically searched my bag for my healing potion. I levitated it out of the bag, only to have it swatted to the concrete ground with a shovel. That was my ticket out of this pain!

The villain poked his head around the corner and, after seeing the look on my face, started laughing. My fury flared, fueled by the blazing agony, and I picked up the shotgun and started beating his ugly head with it. My vision turned red as my magic lit up the fog, and chunks of skull flew all around him, some of them landing in my mane and face. Too frenzied to care, I didn’t notice when his bar disappeared. I just kept beating him until his head was reduced to a crimson pulp.

Regaining my senses, I had an idea. Maybe I could levitate the liquid off the road. I attempted it, and managed to gather several droplets of the pink liquid. In total, I had less than a tenth of the bottle’s contents, but it was better than nothing. Some of it had mixed with the pony’s blood, but I was past caring about that.

I applied it directly to the wound—like the manual had suggested—and sighed as the pain lessened the slightest bit. It seemed to have stopped the bleeding, but the wound still hurt tremendously. I applied a magical bandage as well as I managed—a tricky task, considering that the wound was practically vertical.

I then gathered my things and cringed at my shotgun’s condition. The chamber was jammed open and gunked up with blood and brains, and the trigger had broken off completely. I swapped my pistol’s magazines, but didn’t have the motivation to reload the empty one. I considered searching the unicorn’s body for rifle ammunition, but couldn’t bring myself to kneel down, as that would put stress on my wound.

I needed to find a place to rest, and I hoped the inside of the building was calm enough for me to do so. I walked around it and spotted a railway track that passed in front of it, crossing the road. A single wooden platform followed the track, covered by the building’s roof. I also found a door leading inside.

I trotted towards the door, and as it creaked open, a terrible waft hit my nostrils. The stench made me retch, but thankfully my stomach didn’t contain anything I could actually throw up. As disgusting as it was, it somehow still fell short of how vile exploding bloatsprites were.

Once my initial stupor faded, the reason for the smell became apparent. The room was decorated to the brim with guts, limbs, and pony heads, all in varying levels of rot. While part of me appreciated the aesthetic of the decor, the rest screamed about how unhygienic this was. Again, a tiny voice screeched something was wrong with me.

Benches—some broken, some relatively intact—lined the side of the room. All the windows to the outside had been boarded shut, and the majority of the light came from the open entrance. To my right, two doors led to bathrooms. To my left, a counter had been built into the wall, and I could see into the room through the empty doorframe. Inside, three unbelievably dirty mattresses lay on the wooden floor.

As much as I didn’t want to lie down on something this filthy, the wound on my chest begged me to rest, and the floor wasn’t a better option. I closed the entrance door and turned on my PipBuck lamp, before walking into the employee booth. There, I started telekinetically flipping the mattresses, hoping to determine which had the least disgusting side. My choice was quickly made, as the middle one’s underside had at least one spot that was still vaguely a shade of white.

In the corner closest to the counter, I spotted a device I recognised as a spark generator, with an electric heater hooked up to it, and a few spark batteries lying around. I couldn’t tell which were empty, but something told me they weren’t all usable. On this side of the counter I could see the sickly green glow of a terminal. I would check out the batteries and terminal later; for now I needed to lie down.

I pulled out my quilt and spread it out over the mattress, then made myself as comfortable as my wound allowed me. Oh, how I wished I could escape my senses, to just shut them down. How I wished I could just skip forward in time and start moving and get away from this foul-smelling place.

Then it hit me. When I’d experienced Arcane Spark’s memory, I hadn’t felt the hard wooden floor underneath me. My senses had been completely overridden by the spell, hadn’t they? Well, maybe it could block out the worst? Regardless, it was worth a try. As much as the spell had made me uneasy, it still hadn’t been nearly as bad as I currently felt.

I pulled out the memory talisman from my saddlebags. If my hunch was correct, I was about to escape my senses for some time. I couldn’t tell how long, but I wanted to find out. I took mental note of the starting time.

I focused my magic on the orb and delighted as the pain and stench suddenly disappeared with a blink. Again, the bitter liquid betrayed its smell, and again the strange magic came together as a teleport. Again, I was unable to look at the sun, and again I experienced Spark falling in love with Aurora.

Then I blinked, and everything bad came back. The air hitting my nostrils made me nauseous, and the ache in my chest caused me to wince. I couldn’t tell how much the pain had lessened, if at all, but I felt cold. I moved to the side of the blanket, and pulled the rest of it over myself, in an attempt to escape the grime and the chill.

Slightly less cold, I checked my PipBuck for the time and noted that only half an hour had passed. Thirty-three minutes, to be exact. While that wasn’t amazing, it was still a decent escape from the pain and stench. Though I couldn’t help but wonder if the time spent in the memory would change after repeated use. Good thing repeating the experiment was in my best interest anyway.

I considered dropping into the memory right away, but the idea of waking up to the smell again gave me pause. I turned my head to the left and took a good look at the boards covering the windowsill. Very weak light came through the gaps in the wood, but I needed to turn on my PipBuck lamp to see the details.

On each side of the plank, two nails held it in place. I concentrated on the top left one, pulling and twisting my telekinesis around it. I poured more and more energy into the spell, until my horn glowed brighter than my PipBuck, and the metal slowly came out. I repeated the process with the three remaining ones and caught the board as it fell. The fresh air coming through the gap reminded me just how glad I was to be a unicorn. Magic was just such a useful tool, and I couldn’t imagine my life without it.

I wanted to rip the other boards off the window and open the front door to create a draft, but that would leave me much too vulnerable to wild animals. A big one could probably just rip me to shreds before eating me, and I wouldn’t even notice as it would spread my guts on the floor. I gulped. That had not been a pleasant mental image and had apparently caused the fire in my chest to flare.

I turned to the talisman and let myself get carried away into the memory once more. This time, I paid even closer attention to how her magic formed the teleportation spell. The more I focused, the less it made sense. Before I knew it, it was over, and I was waiting impatiently for the memory to finish. Not because I was in a hurry to return to the world of pain, but because I wanted to take another look at the spell.

As I snapped back to reality, I regretted not keeping track of the starting time. Disappointment filled me as I checked the time, and noticed that thirty-one minutes had passed since I’d last exited the talisman. Even less? How inconvenient…

With the fresh air in the room, waking up hadn’t been nearly as awful as previously, but my torso ached enough to motivate me to use the orb once more. The only downside to this approach was that the memory was starting to be really boring, though that was partly offset by the fact I was very curious about the spell. I desperately wanted to understand it now; it was like a challenging puzzle, and I wanted to solve it.

I repeated the cycle a few more times. Spell. Boredom. Twenty-eight minutes. Spell. Boredom. Twenty-six minutes. Spell. Boredom. Twenty-five minutes. Spell. Boredom. Twenty-three minutes.

Then, finally, the pain in my chest became more bearable than the boredom in the orb. I’d spent three hours in and out of Spark’s memory, and seen it seven times in total, and I was done with it for now.

I practically knew the teleportation spell by heart, but I still didn’t understand it. I had all the pieces, but they simply were not coming together. More proof that I needed a break…

The manual had suggested swapping bandages for severe wounds every two to three hours. While I couldn’t tell how severe my wound was, I could definitely tell I wanted it to heal as quickly as possible. I undid my current bandage, unrolled a fresh one and applied it.

I wanted to continue looking for Mother, but I knew I didn’t have much time until night fell. Especially with the heavy fog, it was starting to be too dark to see. The best option for now seemed to be to stay here until the morning.

The stench didn’t seem nearly as bad as originally—either because I’d gotten used to it, or because the gap had brought in enough fresh air, or maybe both. But even so, if I was going to stay here for the night, I could at least do myself the favour of cleaning up the chunks of flesh littered about in the room. I was pretty certain they were the source of the low air quality. I stood up and equipped my harness, but left my saddlebags next to the mattress. No point carrying around the extra weight.

My chest still throbbing with a dull ache, I walked around the room and formed a ball of guts in my telekinetic grasp. I avoided looking too closely at it, as some of the rotting meat had maggots crawling all over it. How could these ponies have lived like this? It was beyond my comprehension.

Midway through clearing the room, I realised I’d reached my telekinetic carrying capacity, and that I would need to make at least two trips. I left the building, the grotesque ball of guts and worms floating behind me.

I briefly considered dropping it off in the grass or on the tracks, but realised there might be carnivores in the forest, and that I didn’t want to attract them this closely to where I would sleep. Although, they didn’t seem to really notice the smell before, so maybe I’m fine? I thought about it a few more seconds before deciding safe was better than sorry. I then walked over to the forest and dumped the ball there.

When I came back from my second trip, I noticed a severed pony head in a corner where I’d missed it prior. Because it was too heavy to add to my current orb of gore, I had to leave it there for now. My mind didn’t like the idea of walking the distance again, and I came up with the lazy solution. I wonder how far I can throw this thing…

Another idea crossed my mind. I moved my telekinetic focus to only the mane, and moved it around. Like this, I could probably throw it much further than if I held it entirely. I swung it three fourths of a circle and released it, watching its parabolic trajectory.

The head landed on the concrete, and bounced much higher than I had been expecting before landing underneath a tree. The sheer weirdness of the rebound caught me off guard, and I started giggling uncontrollably. In my head, the motion repeated. Something about a pony head bouncing like a sports ball was unfathomably funny to me. My chest burned and I sat down before my legs had a chance to give out from laughter.

Several minutes of nigh-maniacal guffaw later, I started regaining my composure and stood up from the concrete. I walked over to the two corpses and inspected them, my wounded chest complaining every time I knelt. The shovel pony didn’t have anything of value on him. For some reason, he had five bottle caps in his armour’s pocket. Somehow, my thoughts returned to the bouncy head, and I snorted. I shook my head and turned my attention to miss rifle. After rapidly finding the ammunition for the hunting rifle—five measly bullets that my PipBuck categorised as ‘.22LR, subsonic’—I discovered some more bottle caps. What had I stumbled upon, the Ponicidal Bottlecap Collector Club?

I left the barding on both of them. There was no way it would fit me without significant modifications that I simply did not have the tools for. I trotted towards Confetti-Brains, curious to see if he too had a passion for caps. I found that he indeed did. As expected, he didn’t have anything actually useful.

What was surprising, however, was that neither of those three had any money on them. Not one bit between the three of them. There were four possibilities I could think off at the top of my mind. One: They had been very poor. Two: They simply didn’t need money out here. Three: All their money was hidden somewhere in their house. Four: Equestrian Bits were no longer the main currency, and only Stable 4 still used them.

One was unlikely, given that they seemed to regularly kill other ponies. This pointed to two, as that would mean nopony had money. I still needed to double check the building in case of three. Four I could exclude, because they didn’t have anything on them. Wait no, that’s not correct.

They didn’t have much except bottle caps. Could it be…? Could it be that the new currency was simple caps? The idea sounded ridiculous, but part of my brain wanted to believe it. Just in case, I took Confetti’s and the rest of the PBCs’—Ponicidal Bottlecap Collectors—caps. They were light and fit effortlessly into my bags. Besides, I could always throw them away if they turned out to be worthless. I just hope I’m not turning into a hoarder…

When I returned to the Foal MT Train Station—that was what my PipBuck had labelled the building—I left the front door open, hoping to clear out the air further. I would close it and put the board back on the window before going to sleep, and for now I would be content closely watching my EFS while I passed time. My plan for fresher air seemed promising, as I could feel a slight draft across the room. As for now, I needed to figure out how to pass time. It was still too early for bed, and I wanted to let the building air out first.

I spent a quarter of an hour looking through the now much cleaner building. I found two locked first aid kits—one in each of the bathrooms—and some pre-war food in plastic packaging under the benches. I left the food alone—opening those packages would likely stink up the place even more—and hoped to find a key for the first aid kits. I knew it was possible to pick a lock, but I’d never read into it much.

As I returned to my makeshift bedroom, I inspected that as well. I opened the counter’s drawer, and was pleased to find my favourite mint candy in it. While my appetite had been stifled by the putrid smell, I did want to get rid of the dull aftertaste in my mouth, and this would help with that.

I levitated one of the mints into my mouth and let it slowly melt on my tongue. Freshness overtook my mouth and even my breath, overwhelming the fetid air. Without the terrible waft, I felt my mind grow clearer and my senses sharper, although I suspected the sugar also played a large part in it as well, as it always did.

I looked around the room again and noticed a padlock in the corner furthest from the entrance. As I approached it, I noticed it was holding a trapdoor shut. Maybe that’s where they hid their money? But then, how did they open it? I hadn’t found anything resembling a key on any of the three ponies. I decided to take one last look around before accepting they were simply not anywhere here.

I ventured outside once again, to double-check the corpses. Maybe the ponies had put them in some of the tiny pockets? I stripped each of the ponies of their barding, and checked all the little nooks. Still nothing. I decided to take one of the sets of barding. While it wouldn’t fit me without significant modifications, Mother would surely appreciate it. Though I suspected she’d find it tasteless at best—but I knew she understood the importance of safety.

I returned inside, spiked leather barding floating beside me. I opened my saddlebags and stuffed it in the left one, the one without my books. Turning to the right one, I took a look at my literature collection. I could finish The Mechanical Marvels of Firearms, or I could skim through the Big Book of Arcane Science in hopes of finding out more about the teleportation spell, but my brain seemed to be in the mood for some lighter reading. Even the pre-war novels felt like too much of an effort to get into. This left me with both of the magazines. I wasn’t interested in learning about spell matrices, but Beyond Your Imagination appealed to me.

I sat down on the least dirty mattress, wrapped myself in my blanket, and turned on my PipBuck’s flashlight. I started skimming through the thin magazine and ended up skipping the first section entirely. It was dedicated to magical news from all around Equestria, and I doubted almost two century old “news” would be of any use to me.

The second section, however, was dedicated to everyday spells. Most of them I had no intention of learning, but reading about them was interesting nonetheless. To my surprise, I even found my polishing spell on page twenty-four. It made sense, as the spell was an extension of telekinesis—this issue’s primary theme.

I continued reading, casually keeping tabs on my EFS, until I arrived at the article teased on the front page. For some reason I couldn’t quite grasp, somepony had decided to put it at the very end of the magazine. Was it an attempt to make a pony read the entire issue? Can’t a pony just skip to the end anyway? I focused my thoughts back on reading.

As I made my way through the article, I slowly started losing interest. The so-called ‘tips and tricks’ were obvious. “If trying to lift or move a particularly large object, you might find it helpful to instead focus your magic on a smaller part instead of trying to spread it over the entire surface. It takes the mental load off of you.” Yeah. Thank you. It’s not like every single foal with a horn knows this…

Eventually, I managed to push past the self-evident, and the article slowly became interesting. “Keep in mind that moving an object is done with respect to your own position and momentum. In other words, moving a fork at 50km/h is nigh-impossible for most unicorns, but becomes trivially easy if you’re dining in a train’s restaurant wagon.” In hindsight, this made perfect sense, but I just hadn’t ever thought of it before. It was probably related to why self-levitation was so difficult, but the magazine didn’t mention anything about that, so I left the thought in the ‘speculation’ status.

The last paragraph, however, was where the truly interesting bit could be found. “You will likely have noticed that your telekinesis is never perfectly steady. It’s indeed very difficult to produce a perfect levitation field that would allow pure stillness.” Wow, way to overcomplicate a simple sentence. “The astute amongst you might now realise that it is caused in part by the relative nature of telekinesis. In other words, the small imperfections in your grip are caused by your body’s small movements. If you start paying attention to your motion, and cancel out the motions accordingly, you should be able to achieve telekinetic stability that will impress your friends! Of course, it takes practice and feeling, so you won’t be great at it immediately, but keep at it, and it will eventually become second nature.”

I immediately tried on the magazine floating in my telekinesis, but the air currents prevented me from observing any results. Thus, I floated the hunting rifle off my harness and made another attempt. The denser and heavier object seemed much less phased by the wind, and I could see how unsteady my telekinesis really was. I’d always known it wasn’t perfect, but now that I was actively looking for it, it seemed so much worse; I was aware of every single tremble going across the gun. I had a hard time perceiving my own movements. I felt perfectly still, and yet my telekinesis wasn’t. An idea then crossed my mind.

Curious about the effect it would have on my telekinesis, I tried holding my breath. I noticed the shaking diminish remarkably. As I started breathing again, I could really feel and see how it affected my grip on the rifle, and I was able to visualise how to move the gun to cancel out the effects. While it took the entirety of my concentration, the firearm stayed much more steady than before.

I repeated the exercise a few more times, until I finally felt like I roughly had the hang of it. It wasn’t easy and definitely not second nature, but it was something I could practice regularly from now on. I couldn’t think of any practical situation where it would come in handy—it wasn’t like I would be performing surgery—but the skill definitely sounded potentially useful. Plus, learning it would be lots of fun!

My attention returned to the physical world, and I set gaze on the rifle. I’d stared at it for so long that I’d had ample time to discern just how bad of a shape it was in. A layer of rust coated the entire weapon. I’d noticed when placing it in my saddlebags that my PipBuck considered it practically broken—according to the ‘condition’ bar in my inventory tab—but until now I didn’t realise how terribly the gun had been maintained. So if it was practically broken, taking it apart couldn’t break it more, could it? I felt a sudden itch to do just that…

Focusing my magic, I undid one screw after the other, trying to actively remember where they belonged. I could have just used my screwdriver, but I liked the idea of practicing one of my new skills. I stripped the rifle to its smallest components, setting them down on the floor. I was almost done when I suddenly shuddered. I’d been so engrossed in my task that I hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten. Even with the quilt on my back, the draft was frigid. I suppose I might as well get this place ready for sleep now, even if I’m not going to sleep quite yet.

I stood up and walked to the door in order to close it. As an additional precaution, I slowly levitated one of the heavy benches in front of it, hoping to create a passable—or I suppose impassable—blockade. Next, I attempted to nail the board back on the window. My magic was able to push the nails halfway back into the holes it had ripped them out of, but any more required more force than I could muster. Apparently I needed a shock, more like a hammer, to truly beat the rusted steel back into place. Luckily for me, I had a now-useless hunk of metal that had previously been a fine shotgun at my disposal. It proved a worthy replacement for a hammer.

Currents of cold air taken care of, I made myself comfortable again and turned my focus back to the dismantled gun in front of me. Before attempting to reassemble it, I could try to polish each of the parts with my magic. Maybe that could help make it run more smoothly. Certainly some of those mechanical joints would grind a bit less if smoothed. So, one by one, I polished the pieces. Thankfully, the spell worked quickly, only needing a minute for the smaller pieces, and two–three for the larger ones, like the barrel or handle.

Now it’s time for the hard part, I thought, levitating all the puzzle pieces in front of myself. But as I started putting them together, I noticed that for some pieces I simply remembered where they belonged, and the rest was easy to figure out. After less than twenty minutes, I had an assembled rifle in front of me, and it looked much better than previously, though it probably only performed marginally better.

Content with the job I’d done, I holstered it to my harness, and noticed that even my PipBuck indicated its condition had improved. As I scrolled through the rest of my inventory, I noticed the two cans of apples I still had. Being reminded that fresh food existed suddenly made me very hungry. I’d gotten used to the feeling of an empty stomach over the course of the day, to the point that, in this appetite-reducing building, the thought of eating something substantial didn’t cross my mind.

I levitated out one of the two and started eating. When I was done, I started feeling the familiar feeling of a sugar crash, as my thinking slowed to a sleepy crawl and eyes occasionally blurred. Even though it was still early C-shift, I decided to end my day now and set an alarm for mid-A-shift. I shortly regretted not being able to brush my teeth, but as I lay down, my worries melted away, and I drifted off into blissful slumber. Or so I thought.

A white bar appeared on my EFS. Panicked, I opened my eyes. Calm down, Iron. The bar is white, they’re not going to attack you on sight. Besides, they might not even check this place. And if they do, you can just kill them. Killing is easy. Especially with—Right. My shotgun is broken. I took a deep breath and unholstered my pistol. While I couldn’t trust the rifle, the muzzlegun had proven its ability already. Besides, I had a lot of 10mm bullets and only five .22LR ones anyway.

Wait a second… It looked as if the bar was walking down from Foal Mountain. This could be Mother. My panic receded a little as I realised this fact, but I couldn’t know for sure, and given how eager the ponies here had been to attack me, I didn’t want to rely on luck. Although, then again, the bar was white, not red.

The question now became: How would I figure out this pony’s identity without revealing myself? I needed to get outside, but I worried the door’s creak would alert them. I moved my head to gauge the distance, and figured this was the best time to try and sneak out. That teleportation spell would have come in pretty handy right now. Though I suppose even that makes a little bit of noise…

I levitated the bench out of the way, and opened the door, wincing at the horrendously loud noise. Luckily for me, the bar didn’t seem to react. Maybe they simply didn’t hear it, who knew. I shuddered as an icy gust blew across my face. I briefly contemplated returning to bed, but managed to convince myself not to. It wasn’t like I’d say out here any longer than needed.

I levitated the pistol into my mouth and bit down on the handle. Those marvels were made with earth ponies as well as unicorns in mind, so I could avoid lighting everything around me up with my magic. Can’t say I prefer this way of handling a muzzlegun in any capacity.

I slowly, very carefully advanced. If this wasn’t Mother, I wanted to have the opportunity to shoot first. I moved onto the meadow’s grass, both in hopes of muffling my hoofsteps better, and to get out of the pony’s immediate line of sight. Of course, Mother would notice me, as she had a PipBuck. In the off-chance that this wasn’t Mother and that they still had a PipBuck, my stealth attempts were screwed. On the bright side, however, they would see I’m not hostile, and that might incentivize them not to shoot. Although I was probably overthinking things anyway, and this was in fact Mother.

As the mark moved closer, I started hearing teeth chattering. Can you blame them? Then, a voice called out “I-iron? Is that y-you?” and a pony I hadn’t expected in the slightest stepped out of the fog, clad in Stable 4 security barding. She was levitating a shotgun, horn illuminating the inside of her thick mane. “Candy?” my mouth asked before I could stop myself, and a shot echoed through the night. On the ‘d’ sound, my tongue had pulled the trigger.

She yelped in pain and staggered back, the expression on her face a mixture of shock, confusion, and betrayal. Shit.

Footnote:

New perk: Steady Telekinesis I — With enough focus, you’re able to steady your levitation, though the items you hold are still not perfectly stable.

New perk: Bloody Mess — By some strange twist of fate, ponies around you always die violently. You always see the worst way a person can die.