Sanity Zero

Ziamel made sure he moved quickly. Once daylight bathes the land, the chances of Ziamel being discovered by another pony increases. Sweat matted his brow as he broke into a run. Ziamel still had his pen in his grasp, not noticing that he had been holding since his escape from the library. Ziamel’s bare feet collided with the dirt path with every single step he took, and he wasn’t enjoying it one bit. It would be a miracle if I hadn’t stepped on anything sharp by the time I reach the forest.

Racing against the sunlight, Ziamel accelerated into a sprint. His lungs were screaming for him to stop, to breathe slowly and deeply while his legs were tiring out as he felt his muscles burning. Ziamel’s palms were balled up, and he can feel his pen slipping in his clenched fist because of the sweat. He panted, but continued on as the Everfree forest loomed up ahead.

Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not wearing shoes. At least nothing can hear me run. Reaching the opening in the Everfree, Ziamel leaned a shoulder against a tree as he sucked in precious air his body was starving for. He took quick deep breaths, as he rubbed his pained chest. I am really out of shape. He coughed a bit, feeling his breathing slow as he finally started to calm down. He turned around to look at the town he had just fled.

What the fuck is going on? He pushed himself off the tree and almost fell down. He rested his sweaty palms upon his kneecaps as he once more started breathing deeply. His knuckles still hurt from the punching of the wooden library walls.

He felt behind him for the button on his Sanity Gauge. He felt around for a few seconds before he found it, and pressed it. The holographic screen displayed in front of him, showing more or less the same statistics it had shown earlier.

I doubt tired is counted as ‘others’ in the emotion bar. Confusion was at seven percent, while ‘Others’ had risen to thirty-eight percent. He pressed the button again, and the holographic screen disappeared. He reached behind him, feeling the gauge instead. There was only heat radiating from the section of the gauge at the base of his spine, which Ziamel took to mean that only that part of the gauge was glowing.

Ziamel felt through his pockets, hoping to find anything other than his pen. He knew his journal was in his pocket, as he had pocketed it before he went to sleep. His search yielded no results and he let out a sigh. Still at the opening of the Everfree, he sat down on the dirt terrain and took out his journal.

He skimmed through the pages and happened upon his journal entry the night before. Reading through, Ziamel tried to calm his mind down as he was still processing the situation. Maybe I really am losing my mind. There was a beeping sound that emitted from the gauge, but Ziamel ignored it. He took his pen out and flipped open to a new page before he began writing.

Entry 166, the 20th of August, 2012. Monday.

Rather weird start to the day I say. I could have sworn I had just gone to sleep barely two hours ago, and yet here I am, all awake and writing away. Right now I’m confused as to what the date and time is. I just woke up in, believe it or not (I probably won’t remember this shit when I re-read this in the future anyway), Twilight Sparkle’s basement.

What.

So, here I am now, at what I hope to be the Everfree forest. It’s weird, suddenly waking up in an unknown area, one of which I’m sure most of the bronies in the group would enjoy being in. This is the last place I want to be in now. Not when my brain is in its most fragile state. I guess most fragile, I’m not really sure of anything anymore. One thing that I’m very sure of is that this is not a dream.

I have yet to deduce my purpose of arrival into Equestria, but I’m sure it’s not for something good. I woke up with this… thing attached to my back. Hopefully it’s nothing organic, but nevertheless I would prefer it if this thing wasn’t here. From what I’ve read from a blueprint on Twilight’s workbench, this device is a gauge that displays emotions and shit. Moreover, it shows the percentage of my sanity, which I doubted was ever actually measurable.

My estimations of my sanity percentage were merely estimations! To find out that it really is as accurate as I’ve guessed it to be is disturbing, to say the least. I assume it’s probably psychological or something. I should really stop fucking around with how I should be thinking.

Ziamel stopped writing for a short moment, and looked up at the town in the distance. There were already a few ponies going about their day as Ziamel was writing. He scooted back a few meters, just to make sure that he was out of sight from any pony that could be within visual range. He backed up against a bush and felt the leaves tickle his neck. He smiled to himself, and went back to writing.

I guess this isn’t so bad. I just don’t like how this is a literal mind fuck for me. I don’t really want this to change my thoughts on the existence of ponies. I know they don’t exist, but what I’m experiencing right now really is screwing up a few wires.

Ziamel paused. Maybe I should record my sanity as well, this time according to the gauge. Not sure if the gauge is accurate, but it’s better than making assumptions. The only thing I’m wondering about is how fast the gauge changes. I mean the emotions and stuff like that. I could have gone mad some time ago and this thing is only now registering this crap.

Ziamel looked around, hoping to spot something hard, most preferably an Oak tree. There was a tree behind the bush in which Ziamel was sitting near, but it wasn’t Oak. Ziamel didn’t care, any tree will do for what he was going to try out. He set the journal and the pen down on the ground and pressed the button on his back. The holographic screen materialized in front of him.

Hey, Sanity’s up to 5% now. Must have been that beep earlier. The emotion bar was stagnant at the moment, the only thing that had increased since Ziamel had started writing was the confusion, which was up to eight now. Ziamel walked through the bush and looked at the tree. It didn’t seem to have any molds or dangerous organics, as far as Ziamel could tell, growing upon its bark.

Ziamel ran a hand across the wooden surface of the bark, making sure that it was indeed a tree. This should be solid enough. Ziamel’s knuckles still hurt from what he had done at the library earlier, but he knew that was probably going to be nothing compared to what he was about to do. He balled his hand into a fist, and smashed it into the tree.

The wood splintered under the force of the punch and left an imprint as Ziamel withdrew his fist. The bark had dug into his skin when he punched the tree, cutting him. Luckily enough for Ziamel, the cuts were not deep, but the pain was still overwhelming. He bit his lip, groaning as the pain registered. He kept an eye on the holographic screen for any changes in the emotion bar.

Sure enough, there were changes, in which a new red bar had appeared. The red bar was labeled ‘pain’ and was set at three percent. Ziamel looked at the bar in disbelief. This is only 3%? Ziamel didn’t want to imagine what anything above 10% would be. He reached behind with his good hand and pressed the button, closing the holographic screen.

He breathed in deeply, and could have sworn he heard a beep. That sounds different. He reached back and pressed the button again, making the holographic screen reappear. There was a new edition to the holographic screen, right above the emotional bar. It was a heart rate monitor. Well this is new. His heart rate dropped gradually as he stabilized his breathing. He looked at his fist, which was now covered in blood.

Ziamel wiped the blood off on the back of his shirt. Cleanliness is the least of my worries at the moment. He applied pressure with his shirt unto what he thought were the spots he was bleeding from. He cringed a bit, biting into his lip so hard Ziamel sworn they would bleed in any moment. The bleeding seemed to have halted for the moment, so Ziamel stopped.

Ziamel retreated to where his journal was, and sat down. He was feeling a bit weird. His head was starting to hurt a bit as he picked up his pen and continued writing his entry.

So apparently, the gauge is adjusted to any change in emotion immediately. The sound of the heart rate monitor had disappeared, which Ziamel assume meant that it would only appear in instances of pain. Punched a tree, and saw that the emotions changed quickly. I should have tried something else instead. At least my fist has stopped bleeding,

Ziamel yawned, before continuing. I’m starting to feel weird. My head’s starting to hurt a bit now, probably from the sheer reality of the situation. I should probably stop worrying. This isn’t going to help me. I guess-

Ziamel paused. The last word he wrote took up two lines in his journal and had crashed into the sentence above it. “What the hell hand?” His fingers were starting to twitch again, only this time, it seemed much more severe than all the other times he had twitches.

Twitches in my hands seem to be more severe now. I’m not sure if this is because of my current situation. I’ll just assume that I’m spazzing out way harder than I should be spazzing right now. It’s best if I try to think of why I’m here.

Ziamel looked up and glanced over to the tree house library near the town. He grinned, somehow feeling warmth in knowing that he was somewhere safe. That doesn’t mean I should trust this world so early. It’s best if I listen to my paranoid side at the moment, who knows, I might be doing the right thing in doing so. The sun is now roughly 15 degrees off the horizon, with the town life starting to stir.

Ziamel returned to writing. I guess it’s better to just think of what to do now. If I’m not going to find Twilight or anypony for help, it’s best to start hunting and shit to survive. I wonder how the ponies would react if I killed a creature for food. I don’t think that would be possible considering my condition now. This’ll be like all those sandbox games I’ve played before lol.

Ziamel paused for a moment, suddenly feeling watched. He gave a quick glance to his surroundings, scooting back further into the bush. He was feeling all paranoid again, and he didn’t like the feeling. He went back to writing.

It’s better if I stop writing now. It’s not safe to concentrate further on writing while it’s daytime. It’s time to keep moving. Time now is… I’ll just assume it’s somewhere around eight. Yeah, I’ll go with that.

Ziamel clicked his pen, retracting the tip, and closed his journal. He kept them in his pockets and got up. He scraped his hand, which was used to punch the tree, against a thorn protruding from the bush and cursed. “Fuck!” He raised his hand to his face, and noticed he was bleeding once again. Before Ziamel could do anything else, he heard the sound of wings flapping. He glanced up, and his blood froze.

Right above him, a Pegasus with a mane of rainbow and a coat of cyan hovered with an arched eyebrow. Twilight must have informed her friends already! Holy fucking shit! The Pegasus opened its mouth, but before it could say anything, Ziamel took off, hoping to disappear further into the woods.