Breathing This Great Huge Thing

Orbit lay with the sheets twisted around his legs, the comforter half off, and the dust in the air still flowing into him as he concentrated on breathing deeply. He had to focus to do it, in the dark, staring at the ceiling. His lungs lethargic, almost resentful of him; unwanting to work as he tried to recall the distant memories of when it was an easy thing to do.

The clock dripped past one-thirty and the next thing he knew, he was waking up. His bedroom small and dark still, in the absence of sunlight. Standing, he threw his arms into the air and stretched his legs, sliding one hoof out in front, then the other. He rubbed his side, then walked into the kitchen. Orbit was an earthpony, and mostly an ordinary one. His cutie mark was a splash of water, symbolizing his natural aptitude in swimming.

Breakfast disappeared into his stomach, the bed folded itself under his hands, and soon enough he’d left to open the pool center.

It was a tall, wide building near the edge of downtown, with huge windows casting into the pool room, and bricks besides. He unlocked the glass doors, walked in, and started turning everything on.

The clock read six as he finished unlocking the last door. Officially open, Orbit waved to Rapid Sink, who worked as the receptionist, and headed to the lap pool to start his day off with the few other early birds already swimming.

Most ponies didn’t wear clothes around Ponyville, but as a competitive swimmer, Orbit had to take that one step further. He used to have a tail. He still had one, of course, but now it was only a long, pink, hairless appendage hanging over his butt. His mane, too, he kept shaved, and he did shave off his entire powder green coat as well—though it grew back so fast and took so long to remove that he only did it before competitions.

The cold water bit that tail cruelly like it did every morning as liquid lapped up his hooves, his legs, his balls, and up to his waist. He stood for a moment, watching the beautiful sunrise and the bright halogen bulbs above spark off the fragmenting water. He watched the other swimmers, full of life, throwing crystal spray into the air with every stroke, gliding swift, and behind them all the firm steel support beams and the huge open windows becoming dark no longer.

He shook his head, and splashed into the chemical-drenched, sterile-but-filthy water and started to swim. Halfway through his workout, Bluedrop showed up and crouched at the side of the lane he was in. Orbit stopped, pushed his goggles up, and shook some wet from his face. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re out of muriatic acid; I can use sulphuric for now, but we need to get some more. Rapid Sink told me you’ve already planned the budget for this month, but I can’t find the paperwork anywhere.”

Orbit pulled his hands onto the filter grill and nodded, “Right, it’s all in my desk, third drawer down.”

She stood up, “Thanks boss.”

“Hey, wait, listen, Blue, don’t work naked. Remember to wear gloves and an apron or something, okay? I don’t want to have to sew your burned skin back on when acid splashes all over you.”

She waved, “Don’t worry, I got it,” and kept walking.

At about eight o’clock he climbed out of the pool and stumbled into the showers. Some mares chatted about the stock market, and some stallions joked about a friend of theirs; it felt nice to hear ponies being happy. The conversations swirled warmly through the hot steam that pervaded the air and soaked into them all as they stood below their respective showerheads to washed up. Most of them recognized Orbit and smiled at him; he reciprocated the best he could.

One thing Orbit didn’t hate so much about all of it—he got to choose the soap they put in the locker room for the public. After marinating in chlorine, hair and fur got gunky and gross, and usually the cheap soaps just stripped all the oils again. But Orbit spared no expense; the stuff in these dispensers, he knew as he pumped some into his hand and started washing his body, was top notch shampoo. They even had conditioner in a separate dispenser, just so you could feel silky smooth again.

The day wore on, and eventually Orbit worked his shift and left. His house lived next to those of two of his friends, a pony named Quick in the home on his left and a pony named Tubs in the home to his right. They all ended up hanging around Tubs's house the most, because he was a good cook, kept everything tidy, and enjoyed them crashing in whenever. The little neighborhood laid closer to the outskirts of Ponyville, but Princess Twilight's crystal castle still stood boldly over the horizon.

He walked inside his own house, shut the door slowly, and looked around. It was kind of dingy because of the burned out light bulbs he'd yet to replace, and there were still things all over the floor. Empty soda cans, TV dinner wrappers, various types of paper trash; all stuff he could easily clean up in an hour or two, but hadn't yet. Instead, he flopped down on the couch, put his bag on the floor next to him, and closed his eyes.

The oppression of existing at all now squished him down more firmly with nothing to be distracted by. Everything was too much constantly and the long stretches of nothing, of just sitting or lying down, were a kind of respite from it all. It wasn’t boring to do nothing, it was peaceful. Sometimes he just imagined things to try and feel excited or happy about. Sometimes just let the seconds, minutes, hours slide by for a while. Guilt slipped into him easily, because he knew he should be doing something productive, but a gravity much grater than the planet’s kept him down and feebly choked his lungs.

He imagined the sky. Astronomy and meteorology didn’t particularly interest him, but something about the sky had always fascinated him. The wide rollings of clouds, the beauty of the sun and the clear, uncut wind and being high, high above everything—it was all beautiful to him.

After a while, he gathered enough strength to get up and disinterestedly wash the dishes until Quick knocked on his door.

Quick Fiddles was a short, brown pegasus with a tan mane and tail, white splotches all over hez coat, and a little stylized accordion as hez cutiemark. Ze’d only been in Ponyville for a few years, and ze made a living by playing for local orchestras, plays, commencements, other events, and busking downtown. Ze had his accordion case in one hand, and the door handle in the other.

“I’m going over to Tubs’s, are you coming?” Ze spoke in a kind of high, musical voice.

“Yeah, in a second.”

Orbit finished his dishes and ran out with him to go visit Tubs.

Tubs was at home, cooking, and their other friend, Sunluck, sat on the couch with a Playstable controller wired to the TV. She had a yellow-gold coat with bright gold mane and tail, and also had white blotch marks all over her coat and covering half her face; even going into her wings. The cutiemark on her hip was a hammer and she worked as one of Ponyville’s farriers.

“Hey guys,” she said, looking over and smiling.

“Hey,” Quick said as ze set hez accordion near the door and walked over to Tubs in the kitchen.

Orbit sat down next to her, one arm on the couch rest, and inspected the game she was playing.

“What’re you making today, Tubs?” Quick asked in the kitchen.

Tubs put the lid on the pot and smiled at hef. He was a dark blue earth pony with a black mane and tail, chubby, and wearing an apron so the soup wouldn’t splash on any of his body. His cutiemark was a clipboard with scribbles on it—symbolizing his skill of organizing and overseeing things and matching his job of the logistics manager at the sewage treatment plant.

He gave Quick a sideways hug and gestured with his wooden spoon toward the pot. “Just vegetable soup.”

Hef surveyed the stovetop, “It smells good. How come you make soup so much?”

“I just like putting stuff in a pot to simmer.”

Hef kissed him on the cheek and looked back at Orbit and Sunluck on the couch. “I’m going to go sit down, thanks for making dinner honey.”

“My pleasure, babe.”

Quick sat down between them and watched Sunluck play.

“You can go a few levels if you want, guys,” Sunluck said to them both.

“I’ll play some. I really like the music of this game.” Quick said, watching Sunluck move a little green crocodile around the screen. She finished the level, and handed the controller to Quick as the game counted up how many crystals she’d collected.

She noticed Orbit, and leaned forward to ask, “How do you feel today, stallion?”

He just let what he was thinking about spill out, “I can’t figure out how to create or do anything that I actually really care about.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like, I swim because I’m good at it. I take care of the pool because I get paid to. But I don’t really care about it. I don’t care if I never get to swim again. I don’t care if the whole pool building falls to the ground. I don’t care. I just don’t. But if I were to leave it all behind, just run away, I don’t know what I would do or where I would go. Because there isn’t anything I care about, at all, and I just wish I could find my passion and get something out of life that actually felt meaningful. I want to throw myself, unerringly, at one thing. I want to consume myself in something and become an expert of it. But I just don’t care about anything. At all.”

“Do you…” She hesitated, and glanced at Quick, who looked at Orbit, who stared listlessly at the TV screen. “Do you care about us?”

Orbit looked up almost blankly, only a hint of sadness in his eyes and the stretch of his mouth. “I really want to. I want to say that deep down inside, I do. But I can’t even tell, if I do or not. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to tell what I feel anymore. I don’t know if I really think of you as best friends anymore.”

Sunluck put her arm over Quick’s back and held his shoulder with one hand, and Quick put one hand on one of his hands. “It’s okay,” Sunluck said, “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. I understand that you may not think we’re as good of friends as I do, but thanks for still being here for us anyway. And you should know that I still want to be your friend, okay?”

“Me too,” Quick said, “I really like you, Orbit. You are a good pony, and I hope you can think of all us as friends again one day.”

“Thanks. I don’t know.” He shook off the hands and curled into a tighter ball. “Maybe it’s because I just start hating everyone I get close to.”

“Do you hate me?” Sunluck asked.

“No, but. I do sort of dislike you now. There’s no reason for it; I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t understand, but whatever it is you’re going through, I won’t hold your feelings against you when you don’t know why you have them yet.”

“Thanks.”

Quick moved to hug him, “Is it okay if I—“

Orbit clamped his legs closer to him, hooves almost on the couch all the way, “Please don’t.”

Quick nodded, and let hez arm drop back to the Playstable controller. The character fell into a lava pit and jumped out with one less heart. “It’ll be okay, I think, somehow, it’ll all be okay,” ze said, as the little character died at the stumps of a monster resembling a jellybean. The level restarted.

“You’re really shit at this game,” Orbit said, through half opened eyes.

“I’m getting better. And besides, the game music is nice in this level anyway.”

Orbit sighed heavily, rested his muzzle on his arms, and closed his eyes. He listened to the videogame, Quick shuffling next to him, Sunluck shuffling next to hef, the noise of wind… of high up in the clouds, wind lapping all around him, his wings spread out for five yards on either side, gliding over the majestic softs of blue and crusts of gold of the sunset in the Everfree clouds. With nothing below but more clouds, and maybe somewhere very far away a sea wide and unbroken and the deepest aqua against the copper-gold of the sun; the sun that stirred petals of pink, rolls and flashes of orange, and a deep lavender haze in the clouds around him. Washing over him, drowning him into the sky.

He opened his eyes again and felt himself still on the couch. Still next to Quick, who’d moved on to the next level, and Sunluck, who watched hef play with actual interest. Still no wings. He bit his lip, stood up, and walked out.

Quick almost asked where he was going, but he could feel Orbit just wanted to be alone, and didn’t say anything. Only sadly stared after him. Sunluck tried to catch Orbit’s eye as he walked. She failed, and he left silently.

Tubs pulled the pot off the stove and called out, “Hey, soup’s ready.”

Sunluck and Quick hopped over to the kitchen table. Tubs brought over the bowls, and looked at the door. “He’s feeling empty again?”

“Yeah, I hope he gets better,” Sunluck said.

Tubs dished out the soup and sat down as well, pulling off his apron and putting it on the back of his chair. “We’ve all got our passions. I hope he finds his.”

They started to eat. “I know I’ve got a passion. Making horse shoes and nailing them to hooves,” Sunluck said. “And you guys have stuff you care about immensely. I hope he finds his thing.”

“He’s been swimming for a while,” Quick said through a mouthful of soft carrots. “I wonder if maybe he just hasn’t found, I don’t know, the right way to swim yet? Or thing to do with water. It might not have anything to do with his cutiemark, though. This is really good, honey.”

“Thanks babe. He has been swimming for a while, but I guess there’s still time. And yeah, I like cooking much more than logistics, and, yeah, it might not be about swimming.”

“Maybe one of these days he’ll finally get into the sky,” Sunluck said.

“Yeah.”

Outside, Orbit rubbed his thighs as he sat on a rock, breathing out stress and wrestling in the fresh air of the night, watching the clouds crawl over the stars and the gentle glow of the moon. He looked at his wrist and examined it. He couldn’t, because his friends depended on him, and everypony who swam at the pool needed him, and who even knew for certain if it would be better after death? Too much weighed on him for him to properly be nothing, if that was even what awaited. Or maybe he was just too weak to do it, or maybe things weren’t that bad yet.

In a moment he’d go back to eat that soup. But for now he stood up and walked across the street to the pond and stared into it. The black water punched a hole into the sky in the ground. It looked like he could jump right in and fall into glorious space. But the reeds around the edges and the land around the water broke the illusion. He turned back around to the little line of houses.

Sunluck licked her spoon again. “I know I can do this,” she said, squishing it onto her snout for the fifth time. “It’ll stay this time, watch.” Very slowly and carefully, she let go of the spoon. Tubs watched calmly, leaning back in his chair, and Quick watched with hez elbows bolted to the table in suspense.

The spoon stayed on her nose.

“Yeahh!” She threw her arms up in victory, Quick yelled along with her, and Tubs clapped sincerely. “I knew I could do it! Here, give me your spoons, quick, I bet I can fit more on.”

Orbit opened the door and walked in. They all looked over to him.

He smiled for her. “Nice job, Sunluck.”

She licked a spoon and smiled back, then concentrated on putting it on her face.

“Do you feel any better?” Quick asked.

Orbit sat down and started eating. The soup was good—a little cold, but that was his own fault. “A little. Sorry.”

“Take all the time you want, stallion,” Sunluck said. “You’ll find whatever it is you need one day.” The spoon clattered off her cheek without clinging, and fell into her lap. “Dangit.”

Orbit wiped his spoon off on his napkin and handed it to her. “Here. You can do it.”

She took it with a softened eyes, licked it, and pushed it onto her face. It didn’t stick.

He drank his soup from the side of the bowl. After only a few moments he was almost done.

Tubs stood up and gathered the bowls while Orbit kept scarfing. “Hope you can taste it.”

Orbit swallowed the last of it and handed his bowl up. “It was good—your food is always good.”

Quick stood up too, “Thanks again honey.”

“Not a problem.”

Sunluck gave up on her snout, though the one still hung from her nose. She took two and easily stuck them to her nipples. “Still got an extra,” she said, giving Tubs the last one. Then the one on her nose finally popped off. “Ahh, just take them all.” She picked up the one that fell and pulled the other two off her chest. “Here.”

Tubs took them and put everything in the sink.

They all piled onto the couch, Quick and Tubs sitting together on one end, Sunluck in the middle, and Orbit drawn up again on the other end. They watched Sunluck play for a while, and eventually Orbit left so he could sleep and wake up early in the morning, and Sunluck left to fly to her own house across town.

As soon as Sunluck was out, Tubs turned to Quick, “Change!”

“I don’t have to.”

“No, come on, I want to talk to the real you. To Xaquik Fadez, the changeling.”

“This is the real me. And I’m still a changeling. It’s just that I look different.” With a pop and a burst of green fire, ze changed. “I don’t subscribe to the idea that all you are is only what you look like. Xaquik is still Quick.”

Tubs hugged hez black, lumpy exoskeleton and poked at the base of hez bug-like wings with his fingers. “See, all better.”

Xaquik hugged him back and pulled away. “Don’t lie, Tubs. It took you months to get used to me. And you still have trouble with my compound eyes.”

Tubs met hez pale blue fields that definitely were not eyeballs. “It’s only because you don’t have pupils. I just don’t know where to focus yet.”

Ze sighed and leaned back onto the couch. “Isn’t it okay that I want to feel pretty?”

“Yes, but it’s not healthy that you only feel pretty when you’re disguised.”

“Yeah, maybe. It’s just easier. And,” ze opened hez legs and pointed to the two divets in hez crotch. “You can’t honestly tell me you’re attracted to this.”

“How many times,” Tubs pulled hez legs up so he was hugging hez crotch to his chest, “How many times do I have to tell you that I like it. I do, really. I’m okay with your whole double cloaca system; it’s interesting. And if we ever get married, I won’t hesitate to suck your thin dick or try to fit myself in there.”

Staring up at the ceiling, wings a little rumpled, ze said, “Yeah, but some hermaphrodite hole isn’t as good as a dick or a vagina. We’ve talked about this.”

“And we’ve talked about you being honest.”

Ze straightened up quickly and sat next to him. “It’s not about honest. I mean—it’s about not being persecuted too.”

“I’m going to go to Twilight.” Tubs said. He pulled up Xaquik’s hands and held them. “I will, finally. I’m going to go tell her about you and she’ll tell the town not to freak out, and it’ll be okay.”

“Hmm,” ze laid hez head on his shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t know about that; I don’t want her to freak out too.”

“She’s a princess; it’ll be okay. I just want you to be comfortable with yourself. Your real self.” He kissed Xaquik on zev hard shell of a head.

“Are you comfortable with yourself?”

“I am, I think. I try to be. I know it’s hard, babe. It’s hard for me because I’m fat—“

“You’re not fat, you’re husky.”

“I know I’m fat. I know I could be skinnier. But I’m not super unhealthy, I’m watching what I eat now, and I’m not obese, so it’s okay. I try to accept myself.”

Xaquik hugged him extra hard, and mumbled, “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too.”

Ze stood up, and moved to his accordion waiting by the TV stand. “I’m gonna practice for a while.”

Tubs stretched out on the couch, and gently folded his arms over his chest. “I’ll listen.”