One Pony's Curse, Is Another Man's Blessing...

Chapter 1 V4 - Enter, The Three Caballeros

20XX. Somewhere between Sparkly Mountain and Lake Bloodthirst...

The dust cowered man slowly got to his feet.

The seasoned warrior looked as if he had been through hell and back…

Because he had, of course. Oh, how he longed for such simple days and things, like a portal from hell that needed to be blown up from the inside! At least those kind of simple pleasures, never got political on him!

He quickly patted the dust from his uniform, consisting of a military-green sleeveless shirt and woodlands-camo cargo-pants off. Even on a battlefield, there was such a thing as appearances, after all.

Mom had after all drilled into his skull the importance of cleanliness, and Commander Blood McKill would rather die again , then disappoint his sweet mother.

He may have been beaten, stabbed, shot, had acid sprayed into his eyes, been given a swirly, drawn and quartered, had his belt pouches insulted…

He had to blink away a few manly tears at the memory of that last one. Nobody should have to go through that.

…gotten stabbed and shot, gotten shot then stabbed, waded through napalm, and worst of it all...

Commander Blood suppressed a shudder.

Being made to work with that. But it would take more than that, for a Soldier of the Dude-Bro to stop his fight for Manliness and Freedom!

Commander Blood McKill scratched his stubbly chin thoughtfully, absently removing the shards of the anti-material bullet he had caught with his cleft and had made him fly backwards in such an... unmanly manner.

As he pulled his backup quad-rocket launcher and six-barreled shotgun combo from behind his back – With dual chainsaw bayonets, of course. - he just had to let out a sigh at the thing high-command had made him call ‘partner...’

Now, as glad as he was for the machinations of the Sect of The Man, had come to light, ending the ancient conflict between the Dude-Bro's and the Sparkly Princesses...

Did he really need to call one of them partner?!

As the thing giggled. Oh god, how she kept giggling... Commander Blood couldn’t help but scratch at the... other thing he had gotten, thanks to this little ‘out-reaching’ project…

”Now, now Commander Blood,” Princess Sweetie le Gumdrop said, her voice an eternal whine of sweetness, light and other utterly unmanly things... Commander Blood had to bite his lip, just not to scream in frustration at the sound. ”if you keep scratching at your tiara, it might stop your princess powers from developing correctly!”

Commander Blood suppressed another shudder, but saw that the... thing was right. He forced his hand from the ruby studded silver diadem. If nothing else, if he deliberately sabotaged this mission, then high-command would have his balls and feed them to him.

Badly cooked, just to add to the insult of the act.

The manly man shuddered. They might even... take his Man-Card for such a blatant failure.

Oh! Mother would never forget or forgive her son being discharged in such a dishonorable manner! Why, when she was a Dude-Bro Commander, she had killed a dozen Princesses before each breakfast!

...Not that was longer a good thing, of course. But the achievement should not be disrespected, even so...

“Hey, Queenie,” The Commander said, his voice a gruff growl of unfiltered manliness . “Speaking of learning things, have you fired Betty a single time yet?”

Betty of course, being his original and much beloved rocket-launcher/shotgun combo. The way she gleamed in the sunlight, even in such dainty little white gloved hands as those of Princesses Sweetie, nearly brought a tear to his eye. Even the sequin covered pink monstrosity of a gala-dress on the wisp of a girl, couldn't distract him from the beauty of his favorite gun.

“Don't call me that, you brute!” Sweetie snarled, to the Commanders amusement in a very unladylike fashion...

“And of course I have! Look!” She continued, as she flicked the safety off and with one, swift motion unloaded all barrels on the eight-armed chicken-demon quadruple wielding sniper-rifles, which had beset them both…

As the thing disappeared in a small mushroom-cloud of blood, guts, debris and explosions with nothing but a eldritch squawk marking its passing, Commander Blood begrudgingly nodded to himself.

This girl might actually make a decent Dude-Bro. A bit wimpy of her to need both hands for such a tiny gun, but we were all rookies once. She'll learn.

“Nice shoot,” Commanders Blood said, as Sweetie reloaded and replaced the weapon on her back. “but a bit overkill. Save that kind of alpha-strike for the big-game.”

The Princesses stuck her adorable little tongue at him, her ruby-red eyes twinkling mischievously in the sunlight. “Jealous? At least I've learned something from this little partnership...”

He grunted, and crossed his muscular arms over his rippling chest. “...You said it yourself. You can't force it. I'm just... having a bit of a problem connecting with my... inner princesses.”

He almost kept a straight face, but Princesses Sweetie wasn't fooled. Still, she dropped it for politeness sake.

Ohhh, I simply can't wait ! Actually fighting side by side with a Dude-Bro? And teaching him the way of the Princesses! Never, ever in a million years did I think that would happen!

As she bounced towards their goal, a frowning Commander Blood marching behind, she couldn't help but have a frown flow over her face, but she quickly made it disappear.

Such a pity he is having a bit more trouble than I do. But still, holding and firing a gun is a wee bit easier, then to go on a deep spiritual journey inside yourself…

Commander Blood’s massive black eyebrows twitched, as Princesses Sweetie failed to stop a giggle from escaping.

But still! I just can't wait! We'll have tea-parties, go to balls and make the eternal enemies of Man explode into glitter and hellfire! It's going to be so much fun!

A shiver snaked its way down the commander’s back, as Sweetie started whistling a tune.
He stuck his hands down into his pockets, as the odd duo marched and skipped respectfully into the setting sun.

“...This is going to be a looong fight...” He muttered to himself, as the scene faded to black.

Wednesday May 13, 2020.

Dover, England.

As the mission tally crawled up the screen I just had to shake my head. This damn series was just getting dumber and dumber.

Somewhat awesome as well, sure. But mostly dumb.

As if on cue while my real friends at my sides howled with laughter, a to me very familiar voice said: “Trixie still can't believe they’ve made four of this bucking series... This joke got stale during the first one.”

As I carefully placed the PlayStation 4 controller on the table, I mentally winked at the voice in my head and got a small chuckle in turn.

Now, most would argue that having a imaginary friend at the age of 24 is creepy and/or insane…

And they are absolutely right. Thus why I have never told anybody past Basic-School about her.

Still, she was there for me when nobody else would. When grandma died and everyone else was too shocked to care about someone else's sorrow. The time I got lost from the group at that school-trip and she helped me keep calm until they found me... Stuff like that.

As strange as it may sound, she even used to help me studying, she has such delightfully sharp tongue on her and I simply enjoy bouncing ideas off her…

My Trixie is, shock upon shock, even pleasant company.

I know right? A couple of times, she has even been humble .

Only once, or twice... But still! Trixie, humble. Nearly made me fall of my chair the first time it happened…

The way I figure given all that, and as long as she doesn't start whispering “Trixie orders you. Kill them, kill them allllll...” Well, no harm, no foul, right?

“Bah! Trixie would never do that! Now, give you a few ideas on how to take over the world on the other hoof...”

The blue mare finished her joke with a maniacal laugh, and even added the sound of a few ethereal lightning-strikes for effect.

I quickly faked a cough as Trixie laughed at her own joke, as to not seem like I was laughing at nothing... Again. I had enough rumors as “That weirdo” to contend with.

The two suddenly stopped, giving me odd looks. Fuck.

Not telling anybody since Basic-School... tends to work better when you don't still have one of the people you actually were stupid enough to tell as a best friend... Well, hindsight right?

“...Trixie again?” The black clothed dude in question, seated to my right said.

I winced, and almost snarled at Abraham. The overachieving buffoon just had no sense when to keep his mouth shut.

Abraham... Now, some irritation and just not letting certain thing go aside, the dude and I go way back. Met in kindergarten and even back then he had been one of those with a near constant twinkle of mischief in his brown eyes... Ruffled black hair, clothes constantly scuffed... Honestly, it was still damn hard for me to wrap my head around that he off all people had gone on to get a frigging PhD .

But then again, whenever he wasn't playing with me or planning his next prank-spree he tended to have his nose buried in books roughly a bit larger than his head... so I guess it didn't exactly come from nowhere…

The shit eating grin he was currently wearing? Not helping my frame of mind, however.

I jabbed a finger into the black hoodie with a Nightmare Moon print on it he was wearing. “You sure you want to throw that stone?”

He jabbed my right back. “And Deus Ex is less nerdy?”

“Hey. I don't mock your philosophy...” I said in a huff, as I smoothed out the golden and black h+ print. “This particular version of the symbol being from an awesome game series as well is merely a bonus.”

He raised his well-manicured pale hands in a gesture of mock surrender... but the grin remained. “Hey, you’re the one with the... imaginary friend. Not me.”

I jerked a thumb nearly as bad in need of sun at the camera currently pointed at us. “Need I remind you, that we are on air?”

“Come on. The fans love your little pony shaped neurosis! Why not let her out a bit more often?”

The dude on my right chuckled softly, as Trixie suddenly got very interested. Ever had the non-musical equivalent to a tune that simply won’t go away, - Not that I want that, of course. - perk her ears in fascination? Feels damn peculiar, let me tell you that much.

I carefully brushed a little dust of my cargo-pants, before I folded my hands together on top of them. I also took a deep breath to calm myself.

“...What subject I think our friend is trying to breach...” My other companion began his voice a cool, soft baritone. As laid back as its owner. Such a pity Tim is an utter slob, or that British accent of his would have him drowning in dames. “...is that ponies have been causing quite the stir lately...”

He mimicked my motion... Thankfully, he is professional enough to keep his clothes clean... Even if purple Bermuda shorts and a orange Hawaii-shirt left much in fashion to be desired. But his - With utmost certainty. - thrice damned apartment? Ugh, the memories. We tried filming there once, let's leave it at that.

He looked me straight in the eye before speaking again. A rare gesture for the man. That got my attention.

“...I'll be blunt. You think she might have anything to do with the whole people suddenly turning to ponies, thing?”

The ponies thing.. That was one way of putting it. Almost two weeks ago, strange rumors started that... Well, I will leave it to your imagination. At first, I and my friends just laughed at them. We may be bronies, but mad enough to listen to something like that? No, sir…

And then the mainstream news-reports began covering the phenomena. Suddenly, it wasn't as funny anymore. It began kind of small. Reports of people with odd ears and hair, committing crimes... Odd crimes. Like stealing years’ worth of supplies in broad daylight.

Reports of strange weather and phenomena. Like clouds that seemed sculpted and held their form for too long. Things floating while being covered in strange lights. Farms suddenly boasting record crops in even more astonishing times... and yet looking very understaffed as soon as any reporters showed up to make interviews. The family members or owners visible, looking hesitant and frightened.

Sightings of odd pony shaped creatures caught on camera... And not only pony shaped, at that. There had even been a short and very grainy film released, of what looked like Garble the dragon doing a hesitant breaststroke in one of the volcanoes on Hawaii.

Things like that.

Then, a week ago the floodgates opened.

The... ponies, as the case may be, must have started putting one and one together. Arriving at the conclusion that they weren’t alone to be afflicted in such a manner. And since this is twenty-twenty, that meant going online and finding others for most of them.

Some crafty bastard even started a wiki for it. With the shockingly original name ‘Pony-pedia.Com’ even. Help with basic magic, flying... How to use a shower, now that you’ve found yourself with hooves. Places to go to or avoid, if your family didn't take it well. How to guides in personal hygiene for those that had gotten a one-way trip to the other side of the tracks... Helpful stuff like that.

Bloody hell, the Australian navy had somehow gotten their hands on Daring Fucking Doo, as an enlisted member on one of their ships. They even held a press conference with her, stating that as far as the navy was concerned, she was still a part of the team and the government better recognize this or else...

Not in those words, of course... But ones that were politically the same thing. There was still some grumbling, but from the looks of things Australia is damn close to being the first nation to having citizen rights for sapients.

The tears in Daring's eyes when her Captain told this to the dumbfounded room of politicians and reporters... Well, one nice thing had come of this mess, anyway. I hope his (Or her, for that matter.) career won't suffer from it... But given the headlines it had made and the standing ovation from most in that room, I think things will work out for 'em.

If it weren’t for a certain show-mare in my head and... one other thing, then I would have been ecstatic over what interesting times we seemed to be living in.

Instead I sadly must admit that I had tried not to think about any off it... But Trixie's reaction at my friends’ words I found much more worrying. She just went still. Not a thought or a whisper. Just... waiting for something.

“...I just don't know...” I hesitatingly answered, looking down into the floor.
We were silent for a while. I, because I just didn't know what to say. My friends, to give me space.

That actually made me smile. It felt good that I had somebody I felt I could trust in this mess.

“...How's Edith taking it?” I finally said.

Edith, Edith... Our other reason for taking this whole thing seriously. It was already hard to imagine, that just one short week ago, he'd been our fat, bald, red bearded sys-admin...
The strangest thing though, was trying to call him by he- his old name. It was as if my brain simply wouldn't associate the name Robert with he- him anymore.

Granted, not exactly a fitting name for a green pelted mare, with a blond braid and a apple-pie on her plot... But it still worried me, how quickly she and everybody else had slipped into calling her Edith.

At least she still went with Thompson, rather than Smith or Apple.. Or ‘Granny,’ for that matter. But given how important family is to... the young version of character she now resembled was that really good news? Although I had already liked the man, I simply hadn't been close enough to him to answer if he had held family in such regard…

The implications frightened me. No matter how friendly and nice the mare that made me ask those questions may be.

“...Well, I think so...” Tim said in a careful voice. “...but ask her yourself at the game tonight. I'm not sure what she feels about her story getting on camera.”

I mentally cursed at myself. Even though I had myself protested, the things had completely slipped my mind.

I sat up straight again. My friend had a very good point. “Fair enough, I'll ask her then.”

My friends nearly jumped out of their skin, as I clapped my hands sharply to get their attention. I suppressed a snicker, before continuing. “To the business at hand then. Current events and my potential lack of sanity aside, what did you think about the first level of Call of Dude-Bro 2: Bro-fist Of Destiny? Think a full LP may be worth it?”

Abraham made a ‘You first’ gesture, and I complied.

“Well, the humor is a bit one-note... But I kind of like how the series plays with gender stereotypes, the game-play is improved from the first one and we did LP that one. I'm even kind of curious where they are going with the plot, to be honest. I say we do it.”

Abraham chuckled. “Admit it, you like any game that lets you play dress-up with the main characters. You spent a damn hour making that horrible dress...”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Oh, and the five picoseconds you spent when it was your turn to make the Commander’s clothes were so much better?”

“It's a Bad-Dude's reference!”

“What, and recreating the dress of princesses Peach isn't a reference?”

“Ladies, ladies... Don't fight,” Tim began just as Abraham drew in a breath to deliver his counter, Tim's arms held up in a gesture of mock surrender. “You’re all the prettiest little princesses, with the prettiest little dresses. No need to fight.”

We both closed ranks on the cretin and gave him a glare in stereo. Tim is many things, but he – As his... so called ensemble, clearly demonstrates. - couldn't color coordinate a piece of coal with ebony.

...But then again, I thought as he started laughing, that was kind how we met…

The nostalgia made my mood improve. Small favors. “So, Mister Color-coordination... What’s your and your dread power of anti-fashion's opinion on the game?”

He stopped laughing and shrugged. “Not my cup of tea, if you excuse my courting of the stereotype. Decent enough to watch at least. I won't mind if this is our next project.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The humor?”

“Nah, the... esthetics. I just can't stand horror, you know that. The demon design in this series is a bit too good for my tastes...”

I nodded slowly. Tim, for as long as I had known him, had been one of those people that go white as a sheet if you as so much as shouted “Boo!” at him. Even things being slightly macabre tended to get him.

Granted, that meant that we always had material for Halloween specials and he is usually a good sport about it... But still, I don't like the idea of giving one of my mates’ nightmares, if I can help it.

Abraham beat me to it, though. “We could put this one in the ‘to do’ pile. We haven't done a PC game or a FPS in a while... How about a couple of Team Fortress 2 videos? Just to cleanse the palate a bit?”

I shook my head in only half-joking disbelief. “I still can't wrap my head around that that game is still getting bloody updates...”

Abraham snorted. “Yeah, I know. One of these days one of the guys at Valve will add one bit of code too many...”

He suddenly bolted upright, arms spread wide over his head. “....and Sky-Hat , will be born! Ready to cleanse the world, of those that know not the glory of head-coverage! Its Stetson bearing automatons and willingly top-hat clad zealots, marching in step to the sirens call of rare drops!”

I couldn't help myself. “So you’re saying that in such a future, it would be Man ver- Mph!”

“Do you want to kill our audience with pun poisoning?” Tim said, his eyes twinkling as he removed his hand from my mouth.

“Spoil sport.” I muttered, but I was smiling when I did so.

Tim acted as the bastion of maturity I had come to expect him to be... and blew a raspberry at me.

I returned the favor, as Abraham came crashing back down into the coach.

“But seriously,” Abraham continued. “If not TF2, we could still pick something else...”
He gestured at the leaning tower of escapism we had stashed in the corner. Games both old and new, to all sorts of systems and that weren’t counting the equally absurd list we all had on our Steam accounts. Being a professional LP'er does have its up-shots, I'll grant the profession that…

“Pff,” A voice only I could hear began. “You get paid to sit on a couch with your friends, playing games and cracking jokes... Don't pretend you’re not having the time of your life. Not even Trixie is bad enough at humility to swallow that.”

Oh, hush.

“...They are talking again, aren't they?”

Trixie just giggled in response.

I stiffened a bit, at what Tim had just asked Abraham...

“...Yeah, that's it. He goes a bit cross-eyed without even noticing...”

“...Oh buck.”

Oh fuck.

“See?” Abraham pointed at my face. “Just like that.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “...Is there a point to this?”

I heard a ruffling of clothes, as Abraham shrugged. “...I miss Trixie. She was fun to have around.”

My eyes shot open and... I heard a soft gasp in the background...

The flood of longing I got from Trixie nearly broke my heart on the spot.

Abraham continued, looking me straight in the eye. “I honestly don't care if she's your Harvey the rabbit, a permanent hallucination, an extremely living character or a sign that you ate too much glue in kindergarten... I honestly think your attempts at hiding her, is causing you worse mental anguish then...”

“...Getting dragged to a shrink... again?” I interjected softly, trying not to remember the time my teacher at the time had tried to ‘help…’

He let out a deep sigh. “...What did happen? You used to have that plush riding along like the world’s most fabulous and talkative parrot...”

I paused. It was true. I missed the weight on my shoulder, but…

“...And what if she's connected to this pony business?”

I felt... weird, the moment I actually said it. But I couldn't tell if I had lost or gained something from admitting the possibility. Not yet, anyway.

Trixie got very quiet again, however... Pointedly so. I decided to have a long talk with her... But later. One way or the other, ignoring the problem won't make it go away.

Abraham gave me a long look, but I just met it. After a while he looked past me and asked: “Tim? Would you please stop the recording? I don't think we're getting any more work done today, anyhow.”

I just had to smirk a little on how he managed to say the word ‘work’ with a straight face...

But I tried to gather my thoughts as Tim rose and fiddled with the cameras and other recording equipment... Didn't work.

“...Well?” Abraham said.

...Abraham was my oldest friend…

“Ahem.”

...Oldest male friend. And I might not have known Tim for as long... but friendship is built on trust, is it not? They both deserved that I at-least attempted to be candid.

“...You remember Tina?”

“Your girl?” Tim asked.

I nodded. Tina... I'd met her at a bar... Nearly two years ago? Something like that. A gorgeous brunet. Sweet, kind, funny and...

“She has severe hippophobia.”

“...The fear of horses?”

I turned my head and nodded at Tim. “Yes, exactly.”

Come on,” Abraham stated with confidence. “It can’t be that bad, right?”

“The first time she saw my Trixie plush... She screamed bloody murder and ran home. That's why I put it away. Vocalizing into a plush is one thing... but empty air? That's why I've tried to keep my little dialogs internal, as well...”

“...That bad?”

I nodded. “She has a special app for her GPS. To avoid places where they keep horses. Whenever she sees one anyway, she has to stop, cover her head and wait crying until they have passed. So yes, that bad.”

Abraham and Tim just stared at me for a bit... then their eyes widened in understanding.

“She hasn't left the apartment since last week. When the serious news-shows started reporting on it. Hell, she's barely left the bed,” I said, my voice softer than it had any right to be. “She's terrified of “Catching the Pony,” as they've started calling it...”

Tim sucked in a breath. “...And you’re worried you’re... What, a carrier, or something? Thanks to Trixie?”

I felt Trixie ‘tense’ at that, but she made no comment.

I shook my head. “Twenty odd years is one hell of a incubation period. I don't think it works like that... or more people around me then Edith would have been affected. Or around her, for that matter. I don't think it's a pathogen at all, or it would be spreading differently...”

“...You’re worried it will happen to you. That's it?”

I looked at Abraham, and the unusually somber look on his square face. For such a joker and somebody so happy-go-lucky... He has quite the head on his shoulders and the few times he gets serious about something, he puts it to good use. I've always respected that about him.

“...I love her. She makes me happy...” I had to close my eyes and ball my fists on my lap, before continuing. “...and she would react better if I turned into one of the Cenobites.”

“...Ceno-what?”

I gave Tim a long look... before remembering his preferences. “Famous horror movie monsters. From Clive Barker's Hellraiser.”

Abraham put a hand in front of his face and made his already dark voice as gravely as possible. “Explorers in the furthest reaches of experience. Demons to some. Angels to other.”

Seeing the shiver running down Tim... I couldn't help to add to it, and followed Abraham's example. “We have such sights to show you!”

Why laughed a little at Tim and his squirming. It was just so easy to get his goat with things like that.

...But the laughter soon died down, and we became serious again.

...Well, for us.

Ted coughed into his hand and gave us a small glare. “So, if you’re done...?”

I smiled wide. “What? Ribbing you about horror movies?”

Abraham swiftly saw where I was going with that, and continued with: “Yeah! Poking each other where it hurts the most... Isn't that, beer, wenches and belching, what bromance is all about?”

The three of us managed straight faces... for roughly five microseconds. Then we all just laughed for a while. It felt good.

Sadly I overdid it and I started coughing badly. One of those deep, horrible ones that almost sound like it is tearing things in your chest.

For me? About average I'm afraid.

Luckily, my friends knew what to do and dashed off to get me some water and my inhaler. I really need to learn to keep one of them on me…

As the objects appeared in front of me what I knew was only a couple of minutes, but felt like minor eternities…

I sucked down both the liquid and the medicine greedily, noting not for the first time - Even if I try not to. - just how damn thin the hands holding both were.

...But that's kind of the reason I can't bring myself to carry one on my person. The tiny weight is just such a... reminder, what a half-broken shell of a body I have.

I croaked out a “Thank you,” as I continued to nurse my drink. Secretly wishing it was a bit stiffer than water.

Both my friends were looking at me with worry. I could even feel Trixie ‘watching’ me closely.

“...You sure the Doctors can't do any more for you?” Tim asked hesitatingly, clearly stealing the words right out of Abraham's mouth considering how he opened and then closed his mouth.

I shook my head. “Always had piss-poor constitution. As soon as one problem clears up, I get another. Just luck of the genetic draw, I'm afraid...”

Tim looked at Abraham, who nodded slowly before speaking. “...Me and Morgan went to the same schools for all of our basic schooling. He was sick almost as often as the bastards that kept faking all the time...”

I nodded gravely, flexing my bony fingers a couple of times for emphasis. “Almost had to retake a couple of years for health reasons. The damn school even sicked social services on me and my family a couple of times.”

I shook my head in disgust, before downing the rest of the water. “I have three siblings. You think the stupid bastards would notice that only one of us has health problems...”

“...To act as devil’s advocate, there is such a thing as playing favorites... Even to such extremes.” Tim looked embarrassed, but adamant.

I just sighed, as I placed the glass next to the controller. “...A fair point. Our world is hardly sunshine and roses, all the time.”

Tim scratched his chin as he sat down again. “...You think having actual ponies running around, will alter that any? Love and tolerate, and all that?”

I thought my answer over for a moment.

“...”There was little racism on the Disc, after all, speciesism is so much more interesting. Black and white happily marched hand in hand, as they ganged up on the green ...”” I chuckled darkly a little. “Or however that quote goes. It was a while since I read any Pratchett.”

Both Tim and Abraham shook their heads at me, with bemused expressions at my little display of ‘the glass is half-empty,’ but it was Tim that put it into words. “You’re something, alright... Only you Morgan, only you.”

I shrugged, trying to ignore the ache in my chest and focus on the discussion. “Now, now. To be fair, I think a lot of good may come of it as well. Magic. Do I need to say more than that word? We do live in very interesting times.”

A thump echoed through the small room, as Abraham sat down with his usual grace and poise. “...You know, you may be more right than you know.”

“Oh?”

“I may have decided to follow this venture, then to focus on my academic career... But I still keep in touch with a couple a dudes and dudettes that I studied with...”

“On with it. The game starts in an hour or two. We need to drop of the memory cards for backuping and a couple of other things beforehand.”

Abraham rolled his eyes at me, but it seemed he got the hint. “Fine, fine. Anyway, most of them? Near exuberant .”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Most of them? Multiple sapient species appearing, as a result of a spontaneous metamorphosis? Most of them with magic?“

I nodded in agreement but kept silent, as Abraham made a face. “You know. The old guard. The groups that keep chanting we almost know everything already. That this so called ‘novel’ phenomenon must have a reason according to what we already know... and bla, bla, bla. Some old, same old...”

I nodded. “Skepticism is core of the sciences... But it is still sad, when some so utterly miss the point that this applies to what we currently know, as well... After all, the world was once flat, birds did not migrate, but slept on the bottom of lakes and the negative weight of phlogiston held such promise...”

Tim chuckled at my references. He had always had a good head for history. Even the stupid bits.

“Interesting you should mention phlogiston...” Abraham drawled, a wicked grin on his face.
I made a ‘go on’ gesture. Tim perked up, clearly interested as well.
“You know the gap between micro and macro level?”

Now that? Got my interest. “...Are you saying that somebody has laid forth the hypothesis, that magic may offer an explanation simpler than string-theory? That we have somehow missed a fundamental force ?”

Abraham’s eyes widened slightly, before chuckling amused. “Got it in one. I keep forgetting how scary smart you can be, when you actually start letting those two brain-cells of yours bang together...”

I fluttered my eyelashes in mock excitement. “Oh, such flattery ...”

Tim looked interested, but a bit bewildered. “...Gap?”

“For years, we have been able to mostly predict how very small things behave. This is micro level physics, or quantum to use the proper name... With me so far?”

Tim nodded, transfixed.

“You ever thought about going back to school and getting a degree?” Abraham interjected, looking intently at Tim. “You clearly have both the passion and head for this sort of thing.”

Tim looked down, thinking. A couple of minutes of comfortable silence later, he looked up. “...Maybe when I'm older. I kind of like how my life is working out, right now.”

I looked at the utter, utter mommas-boy at my side. “...You know, I'm certain she would be damn proud of you for it. Surly a couple of years away, would be worth it, both for you and her?”

Tim blushed, before coughing into his hand to hide his embarrassment. Didn't work. “...It's just... Decent pay for a wonderful work and I get... to keep an eye on mom?” Tim was silent for a while more. “...I like my life as is, right now.”

I smiled a bit. “Visit her daily, you mean?” I asked, my voice soft again. Must be nice, I admit…

I gave me a defensive glare, but I kept up my smile. It seemed to mollify him quickly. Tim may be laid-back, but insult his momma? Oh, boy. Hell may have no fury, but a woman scorned is mild in comparison…

He grunted, still a bit embarrassed. “...Sorry, you've both lived here so long, I keep forgetting you're both from Sweden...”

I sighed. Abraham doing the same. “Yeah, a wee bit of travel from Dover , isn't it?”

“Well, not that bad travel time wise...” Abraham interjected. “...just too expensive to do often.”

“...Still, neither of us has missed a Christmas yet. That's something, right?” I defend us both with, trying not to sound melancholy...

Tim coughed to hide embarrassment again. No doubt uncomfortable with both his friends waxing nostalgically for home…

I decided to save him and myself from it, and cleared my throat. “Anyway, where was I? Macro, right?”

Tim almost immediately perked up and nodded.

“Macro is big stuff. In this case, things like you, me, the moon, the sun and so on, and so forth...”

“The classic stuff? Newtonian physics?”

“Got it.” I nodded. The way Tim beamed at me was a sight for sore eyes. “But here's the thing. The two systems work very well for their respective ends of the ballpark...”

“But combining the two is like trying to play American football with the gear for real football, or the other way around.” Abraham finished for me.

I let it slide, and continued. From the triumph in his voice, Abraham had clearly been sitting on that comparison for a while. “String theory fills the gap between the two... For now.”

“...And the problem is?” Tim asked.

“No way to test it. The math checks out, but...”

Abraham nodded. “The size of scale makes molecules look like skyscrapers compared to ants .”
Tim let out a low whistle, as I nodded and continued. “Even if...” I blinked, and hesitated. ”I must admit, speaking of magic and science in the same sentence, does feel a bit peculiar, doesn’t it?”

Abraham shrugged, the gesture making his disheveled mop of brown hair dance for a moment. “Well, the PR nightmare of the name aside... If it produces replicable results, then it’s simply a ‘new’ branch of science...”

“You know, I heard those quotation marks from here...” I said, slightly amused.

“Merlin, King Solomon, Baba Yaga, Jesus, Allah, Buddha... Just saying, if magic really exists, then some of the old myths suddenly sound a bit more interesting, don't they?”

Tim shuddered. “You know, I am really glad we turned the cameras off, suddenly for some reason...”

My eyes drifted for a moment, to Tim's hand that had in turn drifted to the chain around his neck. It was damn easy to forget since he didn't push his faith, but he was enough of a believer to wear a cross under that ludicrous shirt of his…

He'd even invited me and Abraham to church a couple of times. I think Abraham went out of politeness once or twice, but I simply said that I don't share the faith and that was that. Very polite of him.

Besides, Transhumanism is close enough a and to faith, for me. I don't feel like complicating my life with any ‘higher-powers...’

“As politically incorrect as some of those examples were...” I stated in a diplomatic fashion. I held little respect for religion as a force, but I could respect a differing opinion on the subject. “...I feel you may be onto something. It would not be the first piece of knowledge, lost to time...”

“...You mean like Greek Fire or Damascus steel?” Tim stated.

Abraham nodded in reply. “Anyway. Even if magic turns out to be a smaller X in the equation than you might think, it might allow us to test things like string-theory much easier.”

“Indeed,” I nodded. “But come now gentleman!” I said, as I rose with a wicked grin.
I clasped together my hands, as familiar groans left my companions throats. “You have a poker game to lose!”

Abraham grumbled as he rose, but Tim just sighed and said: “You know, you counting cards gets old .”

“Oh, I have never counted cards in my life!” I plainly stated my visage innocent and hurt, that my companions would utter such cruel, cruel lies in my presence.

Both my companions paused mid motion, giving me looks half-way between ‘Yup, he's finally lost it.’ and ‘Pull the other one, it has bells on it.’

“Trixie does!”

A ghostly laugh from my mental partner in crime and the groans from my future victims slash best friends followed my out of the room, as I skipped through the door with a smile on my lips and a song in my heart.

Just such a pity they stopped betting money against me years ago. I can't imagine why!