Strange Currencies

The sun was already up when Strange Mirror woke. She slid out of bed, careful not to wake X.

His apartment was nice — tiny, as most Canterlot apartments were, cluttered but clean, with tasteful but unmatched furniture. Books were everywhere, mostly non-fiction. History, mathematics, money things. Not her thing, but at least he read. She found her clothes and looked for his bathroom.

Something felt wrong. She felt like there was something at the edge of her vision that was both totally normal and yet shouldn't be there. Something as plain as the snout on her face.

Maybe it was just waking up in a strange place. Yes, that was it. A disruption in routine could be very unnerving to a pony with a condition. Oh well. She’d get things sorted out soon enough. The first door she tried was a closet; the second a kitchen not much bigger than the closet. The third — and only remaining —interior door was the bathroom. Not a lot of room to maneuver in here, either. She started the shower and turned to sit on the toilet.

Then she froze. Something moved in the of the corner of her eye. She could see something in the mirror over the sink. There was another pony in the room with her! She whipped around towards the shower, instinctively raising a shield spell and… There was nopony there.

What the fuck?

She slowly turned around to face the mirror. There was the other pony. A skinny purple unicorn with a long, straight red mane and amber eyes. She had a dark skirt and a striped blouse wadded up in her forelegs.

“Oh no,” she whispered, dropping her clothes and rushing to the mirror. It was her! She turned her head from side to side and waved her hoof in front of the mirror. Even though she knew that was how it worked, it was so odd that everything in the mirror was backward from real life.

Also, she was beautiful. Gorgeous, really. So that was nice. But what did this mean for her condition? Was it gone? Joy thrilled in her heart. That was wonderful!

Except no. It wasn’t. It was terrible. What was she going to do? She could have taken care of her condition in so many positive ways. Instead, she had chosen to use it to live a life of crime, and now it was gone and everything was going to come crashing down around her. She was going to go to jail!

No. Wait. The crime she had chosen, out of every crime in the world, was treason. They didn’t put you in jail for treason. The executed you. After a humiliating show trial. Or worse. Shadowbolts. She’d be disappeared. Extraordinary rendition. “Intense interrogation” in a hotel somewhere in Mexicolt.

Oh, Harmony she was doomed.

She paced back and forth, hooves clicking on the tile floor. Her head hurt. Her frogs were tingling. Her pulse was racing. Maybe things weren’t that bad. Maybe her condition was only partially gone. Maybe she could see herself, but everypony else still saw what they wanted. That would be good, right?

All right. Change of plans. Wash up quickly in the sink. Take a piss — mother of *fuck* she had to piss. Get dressed. Get down to Crusty’s stall and see if her condition still worked.

“Mildred!” said X, sitting up in bed as she stormed out of the bathroom. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Strange Mirror. “Everything was wonderful, it's not you there’s been an emergency I have to go but I’m fine!”

“Mildred, no, wait, I…”

And she was out the door. She pelted down the stairs and out into the street. She raced five blocks through the height of the morning commute to the bar, where, miraculously her bike was still waiting. The miracle might have had something to do with Matthew being asleep in the front basket. That bird was a terror when he got his dander up.

She pumped her bike uphill as fast as she could, thighs burning with effort. She tore through a stop sign right in front of a traffic guard, who didn’t look up from his donut. The ponies going to work all around her didn’t spare her a second glance — no surprised gasps, no longing looks. This was bad. This was very bad. She skidded to a stop in front of Crusty’s stall.

Matthew, finally awake, hopped out of the basket and started scavenging scraps. Strange Mirror leaned her bike against a lamp post, took a deep breath, smoothed her wrinkled blouse, and walked over to Crusty Biscuits. “I’d like my donut please,” she said in a falsetto, voice trembling.

“What kind?” Hissed Crusty. “And why are you talking in that stupid voice?”

“Don’t you remember me?” said Strange Mirror, in her normal voice.

“No,” growled Crusty.

“Sack of day-olds, please,” said Strange mirror, putting a few small coins in front of Crusty.

“Here you go, cheapo,” scowled Crusty, shoving a sack at her.

Strange Mirror sat on her bike and stuffed a whole donut in her mouth. It was gone. Her condition was totally, suddenly gone. This was all that stallion’s fault! He’d somehow made her into his fantasy, permanently! No, that couldn’t be right. He’d said she looked nothing like his old girlfriend. Was this what she’d always really looked like? Had he seen through her illusion to the real her, and broken her curse with his kiss — or his cock, or whatever — like a prince in a fairy tale? And if so, was there a way to get re-cursed?

She kicked off downhill, swearing around a mouthful of half-chewed donut. Stupid magic. If you wanted it to do something with it, you had to get everything right — envision the spell with perfect clarity, maybe say some words, and Harmony help you if you got the accents wrong. But it could just fuck up your life, at random, at any moment, for no apparent reason. And then when you finally got used to being fucked up, it could fuck you up again, just as randomly, even worse than before.

She whizzed downhill towards work, wheels a blur, Matthew cawing furiously at her as flapped behind her, struggling to keep up.

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

The security guard at the front desk of Principality Central Archives looked her over with knitted brows. “Mildred? Is that you?”

Good. Apparently she looked enough like Mildred to pass, even without her condition. “Broke my glasses. I’m wearing my contacts today,” she said, seamlessly incorporating into her web of lies the fact that she had no idea where she’d left Mildred’s glasses. Were they at X’s apartment? They were probably at X’s apartment.

The guard grunted and looked at her ID. “Okay. Are you doing something different with your mane?”

“I’m so glad you noticed,” she said and hurried inside. If she could make it through today… well, if she could make it through today, she’d have to make it through tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. Her condition might come back, but she couldn’t count on that. She’d have to adapt.

Still. Stay optimistic, right? She got some funny looks as she took down the next set of ledgers on her schedule, but she made it to her office. She got her quill and a clean ledger and some loose leaf from her drawer. There. Had she forgotten anything? Yes, she’d forgotten the donuts outside. Well, that was too bad, she couldn’t risk security again. She’d just have to remember tomorrow. She sat down and set to work.

“Mildred?” said her supervisor Staples, poking her head through the door. Staples was a typical tall white Canterlot unicorn, who wore her indigo mane in a tight bun on the back of her head.

“Yes?” said Strange Mirror, looking up from her work and trying to sound nonchalant.

“You were late this morning. Are you all right?” She looked concerned.

“I had… um… bike trouble. Everything trouble, really. You know how it is.” She laughed in a way she hoped didn’t sound forced and artificial.

“I was surprised. You’re never late.” She glanced at the pile of loose leaf, seeing as if for the first time the neat rows of figures she was copying onto it. Her eyes narrowed. “Mildred, what are you doing?”

Strange Mirror gulped. “Just… taking notes.”

Staples frowned. “Well, be sure to destroy them before you leave for the day. The information here may seem harmless, but much of it is classified. All right?”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

Strange Mirror worked through lunch, copying as much as she could. She’d catch Unremarkable Brown Pony at the bookstore tonight, to try and explain to him what was going on. She was sure he’d be more understanding if she brought a larger than usual pile of data with her. But it was hard to concentrate when she was so afraid. Fear had settled at the bottom of her stomach like an undigested donut, weighing her down and making her hooves clumsy.

When it was time to pack up, she looked up from tying off her pile of loose leaf to see Staples lurking outside her office door. Bugger it with a pitchfork! Staples was standing there, chatting with Mirror's neighbor across the hall, glancing every so often over her shoulder into Strange Mirror’s office.

No subtlety at all. Staples was on to her. The heavy feeling in Mirror's belly got worse.

Strange Mirror puttered around her office as long as she could, but soon she felt like the puttering itself was starting to look suspicious. She put the loose leaf into the pile with the old ledgers and headed for the furnace room, hoping to slip it into her bag once Staples was out of sight. But Staples never got out of sight. Every time Strange Mirror looked over her shoulder, she was there. Looking at a plant. Getting a cup of coffee. Coming out of the restroom. It was like being haunted.

At last, Mirror got to the furnace room. She was alone for a moment. She pulled the loose leaf out of the pile, set it on the floor, and opened the furnace door.

“Oh, hi, Mildred,” said Staples, pushing a cart full of old ledgers into the furnace room. “The custodian had to go home early; I thought I’d just take care of these myself.”

Strange Mirror ground her teeth, picked up the loose leaf, and tossed it into the flames.