The Sandbox

You sit in bed, staring out into space.

Not that you have much else to do, aside from pondering the nature of things, or trying to achieve inner peace. You’d been at the last one for a while and, frankly, it was a rather dull endeavor. Which left pondering the nature of things, though sometimes that leads you to attempting to achieve inner peace again. The one just seems to follow from the other.

First on the list of things which are due to have their nature pondered: space. Particularly, the space you are staring into. Of prime importance was the question of whether or not one could even consider this space. Certainly, it didn’t seem to be outer space. After all, it isn’t cold and you aren’t suffocating. Also, there seems to be gravity around you.

But nothing else.

It also doesn’t qualify as outer space because there’s nothing to see. No sun. Not stars. No moon. Just you, your bed, and a vast, empty void that harrows the soul and leaves one with the sensation that they are truly insignificant, in the way that only the infinite can.

Which also leaves the question of whether it can be called not outer space, but space in any sense at all. Terms of distance and time seem meaningless in the face of endless nothingness.

It’s enough to make one feel downright philosophical.

You were just pondering what would happen if you got off of the bed, since there seems to be gravity but nothing beneath you, when you feel a faint warmth radiating against your back, and the sudden sensation that another presence had joined you.

Also the bed shifts with its weight.

But, to be honest, you were rather enjoying the solitude. It had been, perhaps, the most calm and pleasant Monday you’d had in weeks.

Some time passes, or maybe it doesn’t. You can’t tell in this place. But, eventually, your visitor gives a quiet cough and speaks.

“I do hope I’m not intruding upon any important thoughts,” she says, her voice feminine and very familiar.

You shake your head. “No. I think I was just seeking inner peace again.”

“I see,” she says, moving to sit beside you, and coming into your view in the process.

You were right about the voice. Princess Celestia has finally followed in the hoofsteps of many of her subjects and arrived, uninvited, in your bed. At one point, before certain violations of your privacy became commonplace, you’d have been thrilled at this. But now, you’d been hoping the ponies would stop when everything else had.

“And what is that like?” she asks, finally.

“Distressingly like boredom,” you reply.

You see a soft smile on her face from the corner of your eye.

“I’ve always found it a rather dull endeavor, myself,” she says. “Though, on the whole, you seem to be taking this rather well.”

“Any day I don’t have to get out of bed is a good day to me,” you say.

“Another sentiment we agree on, though, alas, royal duty often keeps me from such simple pleasures.” She turns her attention to the soul-crushing void surrounding you both. “How is the vast expanse of nothingness, by the way?”

“Mind-rending and unfathomable, like usual,” you say, shifting to prop your chin up on one hand.