Ziamel Srifal sat in his seat, eyes glued to the screen of his monitor as scrolled down the page he was surfing. He grimaced, reading every comment as he scrolled down. Someone had started a problem in the brony group again. A thread started for the purpose of confessions, was having the confessions posted used against those who confessed. Soon there were a few other people joining the perpetrator.
Ziamel sighed. Recently there had been a string of problems occurring within the group, mostly coming from the same members. The group was a regular group, dedicated to a show by the name of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. The show was considered revolutionary by some, but was seen as a great show by many.
Reasons for liking the show varied, from the great animation, to the great storyline, to the adorable creatures that appear and the morals taught with every episode that aired. The people who watched the show, self-proclaimed ‘bronies’ often meet up with one another, some of them even crossing states just to meet new friends.
Soon enough, people around the world get united just because a show, meant for the younger demographic, that brings out the best in many of them. A variety of talent is displayed by a large majority of the group, but there still remains a few who do not want a very deep involvement with the series.
Ziamel stopped scrolling for a short moment to increase the volume of his media player. He enjoyed Classical, but from time to time, he would go listen to Alternative music, if not Dubstep, Pop or Electroswing. He hummed the tune of Caravan Palace’s “Clash” as the volume increased. Satisfied with the current level, he turned back to reading the confessional thread.
He had only written a few confessions, shallow ones compared to the deep ones other members of the brony group were posting. He chuckled at one of the confessions. The person who posted the confession had confessed that he had a problem with time management, but still procrastinates no matter how hard he tries to manage his time. Ziamel felt that the problem could be easily solved, with stricter discipline and supervision from other people.
It was rather ironic, because Ziamel himself was not a man who kept to his time. However, he did not confess to the world about it. He knew how to solve it, and does so from time to time, but he didn’t like solving something that took very long to solve. His left eye twitched, a sign of irritation.
“People these days…” He whispered. It was four in the morning, and his roommate was sleeping soundly as he read on. “A confession isn’t something to take lightly.” Ziamel scrolled down, noting that someone had used a time management confession against the confessor. He chuckled. The person was too pure to be considered a troll, but yet, he takes jokes a little too far. Even a fire knows when to burn itself out.
It took all of his will for Ziamel not to fire back at the joker for being so mean to someone who was confessing about his problems. Ziamel wondered if people started confession threads merely for the purpose of insulting others. He shook the thought from his head as he reached the end of the thread. He shook his head. He opened his music folder and scrolled up. He double clicked on an mp3 file titled ‘Eagle Eye Cherry – Save Tonight’ and winced a bit as the loud music pounded at his ears. He lowered the volume, hoping his roommate wouldn’t wake yet.
Ziamel contemplated posting another confession about a problem he had been facing for a couple of months. He was one of those bronies that use logic to tell themselves that the ponies from the show existed, only in another dimension. He knew very well that the ponies from the show did not exist, but a part of him didn’t want to acknowledge that fact. He loved the characters from the show too much to care that they don’t exist.
Ziamel’s friends were giving him the heat for liking a show they described as for ‘faggots’. Ziamel wasn’t an aggressive person, but whatever words he said or typed out was full of venom whenever he is being made a fool of. He never really gets angry anymore, the only way to provoke him being insulting religions and mental pressure. He was feeling a lot of the latter. Ziamel often said he was fine, but he seemed to act fine so well, no one could tell if he was down.
Ziamel went back to the confession thread and wrote four simple words. A sentence of warning for those who dare aggravate him and anybody else for the fun of it, and a sentence of complete honesty, he typed out: “I wear a mask.” He read over the sentence, making sure that it conveyed the message he wished to deliver. He hit the ‘enter’ key and went back to his music folder. He scrolled down and clicked on another mp3 file, this one titled ‘George Michael – Careless Whispers’.
He grinned, savouring the saxophone intro before listening to the well written lyrics. Ziamel had enjoyed the song so much that he forgot all about the confession thread. One minute into the song, Ziamel reopened the thread and saw that his confession was liked twice, and there were an additional few comments below his. He sighed as he read the first one, noting that it was the usual group troll.
‘Mask? Somebody stop me! *Spins around to form a tonado*’ The troll wrote. Ziamel planted his palm upon his face, trying not to take into offense the response he received. He wanted so hard to correct the troll’s spelling, but he knew the troll was doing this on purpose to attract more people. The other two comments were much nicer. One was a confession from a rather soft person in the group, saying that he would stab someone should he be forced to. The other comment was from a boy in high school, scolding the troll for being mean.
‘Oi! Don’t bitch around dhere! Nopony likes your attitude, you faggot!’ it wrote. Ziamel grinned and shook his head. “You have no idea how hard you are going to get fired at now, don’t you?” Ziamel whispered. No sooner had Ziamel said that had two more people posted replies.
‘That’s pretty ironic, don’t you think, a faggot like you calling somepony else a faggot?’ the first one read. The troll was notorious in the group, going by the name of Fescesu Rahour. The second one was, ‘You must be new to this kind of shit. For the love of cheesus he’s been this way since he’s joined!’ The person’s name was a mess, Dane Gharroutan.
Cheesus. Good lord what. Ziamel sighed and typed out. ‘Do any of you faggots know the original purpose of this thread? Stop being assholes and bring your trolling someplace else.’ He hit enter and waited for a response.
His comment got a few likes and a reply, from the person who posted the second comment earlier, Dane ‘I don’t even. Dude, I wasn’t even trolling. Understand the fact that the whining bastard has been in the group for about four months!’
Ziamel’s logic took over. ‘Aye, I understand that, but why are you flaming someone who’s against the trolls instead of just flaming the trolls? SIMPLE SHIT YO!’ He hit ‘enter’ and loosened up a bit. He changed his music to ‘The Script - Before the worst’ and went back to the confession thread.
Fescesu replied to Ziamel’s post. ‘Let the little bitch learn his lesson you faggot. Both of these faggots don’t know how to adapt. But why did you have to join these faggots? You’ve been around long enough to know that my trolling is always effective against such people.’
Ziamel chuckled and tapped out rapidly, ‘No, fuck you. You realize how easily people get offended, yet you still troll around for your own pleasure. You’re the biggest faggot among all the other so called faggots.’
As soon as Ziamel hit enter, his comment received several likes. A comment from his friend commented a simple ‘^’. Ziamel grinned. He waited for about a few minutes, hoping that the failure of a troll would reply. He changed his music to another track by the same artist, this one titled ‘We Cry’.
The troll didn’t reply, which was what Ziamel had expected. He typed out another sentence. ‘Adaption? You haven’t even faced the fact that your trolling methods prove ineffective to a majority of the group! God fucking damn it, picking on the vulnerable ones is very low, even for you.’ He hit enter, and opened a new tab. Ziamel hadn’t been blogging for the best of a few weeks, and yet there were still people visiting his blog. He was surprised, but reminded himself that the views will never drop, even if he stops blogging.
He watched view count. There were fifty-three people who visited his blog today, the majority of the viewers from Russia, Germany and the United States. Ziamel contemplated writing a post, apologizing for the lack of activity on his blog, but decided against it. “Let them wonder.” He whispered.
He returned to the confession thread, noting that the troll hadn’t commented yet, and there were several other people posting confessions. Ziamel sighed. Why do I even put up with such people? They don’t even deserve my attention! Ziamel has been somewhat of a peacekeeper, but recently he’s been watching every member of the group like they were guilty of murder.
Heck, maybe I’ll be guilty of murder soon. Ziamel chuckled. He didn’t know when and why he started having thoughts and not the usual ones too. He thought of how it would feel like to murder someone who was hated, to get rid of someone who was always spreading the plague.
Ziamel shook his head. I’m not that low. That’s even lower than Fescesu. Logic and common sense were keeping Ziamel in one peace, but he felt like it wouldn’t last long with problems springing up all over the place. Though Ziamel didn’t have a single speck of authority, people knew when to start joking, and when to serious up. It was like he was a natural born leader, mixed in a place of good people with a side of useless ones.
Ziamel didn’t like it when trolls misuse the term ‘Love and Tolerate’. Often times, when caught in the heat of the fire, trolls would use this against others, saying that people should love and tolerate trolls because they were humans as well. Ziamel sighed, this time much louder than earlier. He glanced over his shoulder, noting that his roommate was still asleep.
Ziamel flexed in his chair a bit, and went back to the confession thread. The troll still hadn’t replied. Ziamel left the confession thread open and set his headphones down on his chair as he got up to get his journal.
He scratched his head while he scanned the dark room for his suitcase. Finding it right next to his bed, he strode over, careful on to trip on the pile of dirty clothes his roommate wouldn’t clean. He opened the suitcase slowly, careful not to the make the sound of it unclicking obvious. Among the files and stationary stood a little journal, about a quarter of the size of an encyclopedia.
He went back to his chair and put his headphones back on before sitting back down and setting his journal down on the computer table. He reopened his music folder, changing the song he was listening to, to ‘Periphery – One (Cover)’. Minimizing the folder, he flipped open his journal and started writing at a half completed post.
I estimate that my time as a sane person is numbered, it’s just that I don’t know how much. With the thoughts of the show, ponies and the group, among other reasons, bearing down on my back, I feel Pinkamena slowly seeping into my brain as time goes by. Soon, very soon, this will all be too much for me. I just hate how I keep wanting to solve my problems rather than just turning my back on it and walking away.
It’s weird, you know? Being in a brony group is like being part of one big family. Many of the family members would be good to the siblings, but there would still be the brats who would be around to fuck things up. It’s like my little cousins disturbing me while I study. It gets irritating even after a short while.
I’ve been in the group for months, and still, the troll Fescesu would not shut the fuck up. The things I would do if I get my hoov- hands on him. He isn’t the only one that’s been causing problems in the group. There are still several other people who don’t know how to even troll, but would spam things and say that they were.
People like these need to get a high five from an Exploder. The element of Kindness would surely disapprove of such unfriendliness to members in the group. In all honesty, I doubt the trolls would stop. It’s as if their lives depend on trolling as a source of food or something. Really, really pathetic to know that such people exist within a good community. *Sigh*. What can I do right?
Sanity level: 11%. I’m losing it. The longer I stay here thinking for a solution for such people, the more unstable I can feel my thoughts become. Adding to the fact that my school friends have been a bitch to bear recently, I doubt my sanity will last. Oh classmates, y u so silly? Like a lot of trolls that are actually faggots in real life?
Ziamel paused a while. He reopened his music player and double clicked ‘One Republic – Secrets’ The cello intro chilled him down somewhat, and he went back to writing in his journal.
Ponies are fun to share with others, that be true. But when what is shared with others is used against one another, you know when shit’s going to get down. Ziamel stifled a yawn before writing again. I can guess that there will be another few problems in the group that will surface in the group. The troll population, though minor, is thickening. I’m seeing more and more faggots come on just to mess with others.
I guess I should just stop here while I still can. I’m sure to think up methods to solve these problems the longer I stay awake. Sanity Level: 10%. Fuck that shit. I don’t even understand why I’m the only person who’s actually rebelling against these trolls. Do people not care for others now?
I don’t even know why I bother doing so anyway. It’s not worth having my sanity lost to. I-
Ziamel stopped writing as a notification appeared on his screen. He clicked on it, and the page refreshed, bringing him back once more to the confession thread he was at moments ago. There, with all the words in the sentence capitalized, was Fescasu’s response.
‘WELL LOOKIE HERE! SOMEPONY’S MAD HAHAHA! YOU’VE BEEN A FAGGOT FOR TOO LONG ZIAMEL, AND FIRING AGAINST SOMEPONY LIKE ME ISN’T WISE. NOT WISE AT ALL, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT! WHO ARE YOU TO SAY THAT MY TROLLING METHODS ARE INEFFECTIVE? SEE THOSE OFFENDED LITTLE BITCHES THERE? HOW IS THAT NOT FUCKING PROOF OF MY SKILLS? HAH! SUCK ON THAT BITCH!’
9%. Ziamel fired back, fingers dancing across his keyboard. ‘All caps won’t make you win you faggot. You troll vulnerable people, IF YOU DID NOT FUCKING READ EARLIER. You’re being a retard for not understanding the fact that your trolling really doesn’t work on many other people. Honestly, is that not proof that your trolling methods are absolute shit? “FIRING AGAINST SOMEPONY LIKE ME ISN’T WISE” ? Seriously? Since when were you the lord of all wise and shit? Go fuck yourself. Bottom line, you’ll end up friendless, and still remain a faggot.’
Ziamel chuckled, wondering how Fescesu would respond. Reopening his music folder, Ziamel changed to ‘Coldplay - Charlie Brown’. He felt that a bit of Coldplay could help at this moment. Even if it didn’t, at least it was better than repeating ‘Secrets’. The song didn’t seem to fit in with the current situation in the thread. Ziamel relaxed somewhat, not really expecting a response from Fescesu.
He refreshed the page, but the thread was no longer there. Taken aback somewhat, Ziamel refreshed again, hoping to god that the thread was not deleted. The page loaded, and his fears were confirmed. The thread was gone. Leaning back in his chair, he could only think of one person who would delete something to maintain peace in a group.
Ziamel wanted to slam his fist onto his computer table, frustrated that something that could be simply worked out was deleted just like that. He restrained himself. He didn’t want to wake his roommate up. God fucking damn it!
It was rumoured among some of the members that the person who wielded power over some of the threads was actually acting according to his emotions, said person being one Sir Nical Fane. Ziamel wanted no involvement whatsoever with said person, but he was sure the thread was deleted by him.
He went back to writing in his journal.
In an attempt to restore peace, one does not simply destroy everything and hope that things work out fine. Oh no, one does not do so. However, when one does do so, chances are, whatever survived the decimation would come back and bite you in the ass. I just hope that Nical is aware of that.
I’m trembling as I write. What the fuck is wrong with my hands? It’s kinda like caffeine withdrawal, albeit more serious. Ziamel stopped writing and looked at the barely readable squiggles he just wrote. He sighed, easing his trembling hands somewhat. When he wrote again, the words were intelligible.
Damn my hands. They’ve been rather twitchy lately. I’m not even sure why. It can’t be withdrawal, right? I’ve had my regular two cups for about a few months already, so I doubt it’s any kind of withdrawal.
Ziamel thought back to the confession thread earlier, the comments, the act of deleting the thread in an attempt to restore peace. “Such faggotry.” Ziamel muttered. His hands had gone back to trembling right after thinking of the thread again. Frustrated, Ziamel wrote one more paragraph before going off to sleep.
Damn it all! I’m going to sleep. These thoughts about the group and the problems really are driving me over the unseen edge. I’m down to about 7%, I guess. I can recover from this, but it might take a bit of time. It would be best if I stop visiting the group now, wouldn’t it? I’m going to go now. Until next time.
-Ziamel
Ziamel pocketed his journal, praying that nobody would go throw his pockets and discover what he has been up to. He kept his pens with him, and switched off his computer. He set his headphones down and snuck into bed.
Ziamel sighed as his head thudded against the pillow. “Hopefully shit clears out after this.” He mumbled before sleep consumed him.
As Ziamel shut his eyes, there was another being at work, albeit in another dimension. The studious lavender mare was up, despite the fact that it was early in the morning. She sat at her workbench, a strange device in front of her.
Twilight Sparkle had been working on the device for a couple of weeks now at the request of Princess Celestia. The request however, made Twilight wonder what would it most likely be used for. Celestia had asked for Twilight to make a gauge to check changes within a pony, be it emotional, physical, or mental change.
Twilight didn’t ask what the device would be used for, but she had been told a little thing by Celestia before she got started. “Through all the changes, one could see the breaking point of somepony. This would be a great advancement to our medical science. Should you be able to create such a device, you could save others by guessing exactly when somepony is going to snap.”
Twilight didn’t know why Celestia would even want such a device, considering how unicorns have spells that can be used to analyze somepony’s emotional, physical and mental change. She didn’t bring it up, and began on her project.
Now, all she needed to do was to get a test subject. Twilight would want to try it on somepony, but she wasn’t sure if the device would be perfectly functional. She could try it on some creature from another dimension, but she would be risking a lot. She prayed to Celestia that her interdimensional portal spell wasn’t rusty. She didn’t want to remind herself of the last time she used a rusty spell.
Twilight thought over for a moment, before finding out which galaxy would be suitable to acquire subjects. She levitated a book over from a bookshelf nearby, and opened it to the Milky Way Galaxy. She didn’t know which to choose, but she did know which stars or planets were being inhabited.
She flipped over to the next page, and a picture of the Solar System was displayed. The picture had sentences on the side of the picture, each showing the year the planets were made, distance from the sun, and the habitability of a certain planet. It didn’t take her long to know that the planet Earth had suitable conditions for life.
“Now what am I going to pick as a test subject?” She mumbled to herself. She conjured a spell, and a green map displaying certain parts of the world. Among the few places were Germany, France, and parts of Asia.
“These places really do have weird names. They might wield good test subjects.” Twilight thought over what she just said. Maybe just one creature would be good enough. I don’t think I could really control any more of something I don’t know much about.
Twilight levitated over a book from another bookshelf, opening it up to beings from another dimension. She hummed a tune as she read up on creatures that came from Earth, narrowing down the amount of creatures down to humans. “They seem to be the sentient beings of Earth. This could be a perfect test subject!” Twilight squealed with glee.
She looked over to the map and highlighted a few locations in yellow with her horn. She drew her horn across several parts of Asia, a couple of places in Germany and a spot in France. Twilight drew back, looking at the locations she had just marked. “Now all I need is to decide which location do I bring these humans from.”
Twilight levitated over another book, detailing people and culture in their own respective countries. Reading up a bit on Germany, she quickly eliminated Stuttgart from the map. Quickly running her eyes across Berlin, she knew Germany will never do. She eliminated Germany completely from the map, leaving only France and parts of Asia. The only place Twilight had marked was Paris, and she quickly marked it out.
Twilight sighed. With Germany and Paris marked off the map, Twilight turned to the parts of Asia. She levitated her book to study the Asian culture, hoping that the countries marked were suitable for her test. She had marked seven areas in Asia, spanning from India all the way to the Philippines. As she read, her grin grew wider. They seem to have perfect subjects! Now, to prepare a failsafe should anything happen.
Within half an hour, Twilight had planned out how she was going to teleport a human to her library and be able to restrain him long enough to put the gauge on. Twilight took a little more time to tweak her failsafe, hoping that it wasn’t riddled with too many holes. Should the human act aggressively, she would have to conjure a blackout spell. She wasn’t sure if a blackout spell would be effective against a human, but it was effective against other creatures in Equestria.
Twilight took a deep breath. “I need my coffee.” She muttered. Leaving the map as it was, Twilight disappeared out of her lab into the kitchen to make herself her coffee. While she was gone, the parts of Asia in which she had marked started flashing dimly like a beacon of some sort. Had Twilight been around, she would have cancelled off the experiment. One by one, the flashes started fading away. By the time Twilight had returned, India and Thailand had disappeared off the map. Unfortunately, Twilight didn’t notice.
Twilight slurped at her coffee as she descended the staircase, once more running her plan through her brain like she runs a comb through her mane. Twilight set her coffee cup down on her workbench, once more reading up on humans. The page she was reading detailed the dangers of a human should they snap or react violently.
As Twilight read, she started contemplating if she should call off the experiment, for fear of something unwanted happening in Equestria, and turned a page. The page detailed serial killers, wars, and terrorism. She shuddered a bit at the thought of having a serial killer in Equestria. She went over to her map, noticing that several of the marks were flashing dimly, but failing to notice a couple of countries wiped off the map.
There was only one country that wasn’t flashing. A little country that is often overlooked by other countries. A small, humble country that is slowly striving for success. Twilight grinned. She had no idea why the other countries were flashing, but she decided that one that’s not flashing would be safe.
She enlarged the country that was not flashing. She surfed over several states, picking a heavily populated one after minutes of surfing. Twilight didn’t exactly know who she wanted to pick out of so many square kilometres of city, there were possibly tens if not hundreds of thousands of humans in the city.
“I’ll pick at random. Let’s see what I can catch with my hook.” Twilight said, levitating her mug over for another gulp of coffee. She swallowed, and her horn lit a maroon aura. She shut her eyes in concentration, and soon a tiny hole formed in her laboratory wall. The hole didn’t remain tiny as it stretched out in diameter and size.
Twilight’s horn blasted a beam at the portal, locking the size to make sure the portal doesn’t shrink. Twilight let out a sigh as she finished her coffee and set her cup back down on her workbench. She grinned and rubbed her eyes.
“Well let’s see where this will lead to.”
Creeping into a dark room her portal led her to, Twilight tried her best not to bump into any obstacles in her path. Twilight’s horn lit with a dim green glow, and Twilight’s vision enhanced as her night vision spell went into effect.
A strange thing that this place is dark. Maybe the humans are asleep. Twilight looked at a window in the room, noticing that it was almost dawn. Looks like I’m going to have to move quickly. Humans wake up early. Twilight avoided more obstacles, including a pile of clothes on the floor, as she approached the bed of a sleeping Ziamel.
Ziamel was shaking his head in his sleep, as if he wasn’t agreeing with something. Twilight looked on for another half a minute as the fingers on Ziamel’s right hand twitched. This might be a good subject to test the device on.
Twilight took a deep breath and her horn was lit in an orange glow. A similarly coloured orange enveloped Ziamel, making his fingers twitch rapidly for a few seconds before it finally stopped. As Twilight lifted Ziamel from his bed, hearing a short sigh elicit from Ziamel as he was slowly brought over to the portal. Twilight watched for obstacles again, but she had to turn her head frequently to make sure Ziamel didn’t bump into anything.
If this human wakes up mid-levitation, I might have to bail out of this place and find another subject. There’s no telling what a conscious human can do. Twilight’s mind flashed back to the page about serial killers, wars and terrorism. She shuddered, before suddenly realized that her shuddering might influence the levitation spell.
Taking another deep breath, Twilight forced muscles to relax. She continued her slow walk back to the portal. Circling around the pile of dirty clothes, Twilight turned around in an attempt to reassure herself that things would go smoothly. Ziamel still lay enveloped in Twilight’s orange levitation glow, once more shaking his head as they closed in on the portal.
Twilight reached the portal, turning around to levitate Ziamel into the portal first. Ziamel floated in without a problem, and Twilight relaxed. She turned to check if there was anything out of place, anything that could lead to any clue of Ziamel going missing. Twilight turned to the window, noting that it was dawn. Time to make my exit.
Twilight trotted back through her portal, and focused on Ziamel for the moment. He was lying face down on the floor, right next to Twilight’s map. Twilight held back a giggle and restrained Ziamel by putting another spell on him. Twilight wasn’t sure if the spell would be effective against Ziamel, but considering how the levitation spell went without a hitch, she considered it safe to assume so. Ziamel’s hands magically bound together, as did his legs.
Twilight turned around and fired a concentrated beam at the portal, and soon it shrank back to its original, tiny size before disappearing altogether. Twilight sighed and took a glance over to Ziamel, who was rolled over onto his right side and snoring lightly.
“I’ll go get another cup.” Twilight muttered to herself. She left ZIamel to sleep as she trotted up the stairs, her coffee cup levitating behind her. As she poured herself more coffee, she wondered if the device will go well. Twilight shook her head. It’s wrong to doubt myself. Maybe the device could work after all. Twilight took a sip and wondered if she should name the device. Twilight returned to her laboratory, this time bringing her coffee maker as well.
Ziamel had rolled onto his back, his arms behind him. Twilight set her pot and cup on her workbench and levitated over the device. Celestia wanted to see if this gauge could detect a pony snapping. Isn’t that the same thing as sanity? Twilight inspected the gauge. It was a cylindrical meter about a foot long with several wires and restraints at each end of the meter. Measuring sanity is now possible. I just hope it isn’t lower than twenty percent. Thinking back to the serial killers in her book, she shuddered.
Twilight used her magic to lay Ziamel on his side, and lifted the back part of his green T-shirt. The cylindrical meter had a flat side, which Twilight put against Ziamel’s back and secured the restraints all across his torso and abdomen. Twilight used her magic to fuse together the wires at the top of the meter, and the gauge lit up. Twilight grinned, but knew it wasn’t complete just yet. She eyed the wires at the bottom of the wire, just near the base of Ziamel’s spine.
Twilight straightened each wire of the five wires out, before magically attaching them into Ziamel’s skin, and hopefully close to his spine. Twilight knew the wires would do no harm considering how there was no electricity used in the gauge. Pure magic was being used as the meter displayed several more details after the attachment.
Twilight inhaled sharply. She was excited that the gauge worked perfectly, but what she was looking at now made her worry. Upon completion of the wire attachments, a hologram screen appeared, detailing the condition of the human. On the screen was a few bars, each one representing emotional, physical and mental conditions.
The emotional bar was cut into several sections. There was happiness, sadness, anger, frustration, confusion and others. Happiness was near zero, as well as anger and confusion. Sadness, frustration and others were more than thirty percent. The physical condition bar too was cut into several sections. Stamina and endurance were higher than the other physical aspects.
The mental conditions bar was cut into three sections. Logic was roughly sixty percent, with imagination and reasoning at twenty percent each. Twilight didn’t like what she was seeing. Right underneath the three bars was another bar, which was close to zero. The words read “Sanity”. The bar was at seven percent, way below what Twilight was expecting.
This could be a problem.
Twilight had retreated upstairs, leaving Ziamel alone and unconscious in the basement. She had to report to Celestia of her success. I’m going to have to be more careful now. There’s no telling how the human will react once he’s awake.
Pulling out a unused scroll, a quill and a bottle of ink from the library’s study desk, Twilight sat down and began thinking. How am I going to explain the 7%?Celestia might tell me to send the human back and get a more stable one if I tell her so. Twilight glanced around, and cursed, noticing that she had left her coffee down in the basement.
A couple of minutes passed before she finally knew what to write. She brought the writing instruments with her as she strode into the kitchen. Sitting at one of the counters, she laid the scroll down and dipped the quill into the ink. As she did so, she levitated over a cup, a tea bag and some sugar. She brewed some tea as she began writing her letter.
Dear Princess Celestia,
I’m proud to inform you that the gauge you told me to make, which I call the ‘Sanity Gauge’, was a success! I have found a suitable test subject on which to test it on, and I didn’t encounter as much resistance as I thought I would. The device is working as it should be, and the test subject is safely asleep as I write this.
Twilight paused, taking a sip of her tea. Had she not sipped too loud, she would have noticed a trio of ‘beep’ sounds coming from the library. She set her cup down and continued writing.
The test subject is a creature called a ‘Human’, from a planet called ‘Earth’. The male subject seems to live with another human, also male, in a dark room. Kind of reminds me of when I was back at your school for gifted unicorns, when my roommate wouldn’t allow sunlight into the room. Although the Sanity Gauge may be working, there is something else I must inform you of.
The statistics displayed by the gauge are as you requested. Mental stats, emotional stats and physical stats are all displayed, with the last part, ‘Sanity’, displayed at the bottom. Hopefully this is what you meant by the ability to know when somepony’s going to snap.
Twilight paused. She could have sworn that she heard a sharp inhale coming from the library. She sighed. Probably just my imagination. Twilight took another sip of her tea as she continued writing.
Another thing I wish to inform you of is, the stats displayed by the gauge when I tested it out on the Human. Sanity is below ten percent, which I take to mean that the human might not be very stable at the moment. No need to worry though, should anything happen, I’ll be able to disable him. As for the detachment of the gauge....
Twilight stopped. She hadn’t thought of the detachment of the gauge from Ziamel’s back at all. This might be another problem. She shook her head, and decided to worry about the detachment later.
The detachment should be as easy as the attachment. I’ll keep in contact though to explain further should I discover anything more.
Your Faithful Student,
Twilight Sparkle.
The sound of a door creaking before the sound of it shutting attracted Twilight’s attention. Probably just somepony dropping off a book or something. “Give me a few moments!” Twilight called out to whoever might be in the library.
Twilight quickly rolled up the scroll, sealed it, and sent it on its way in a puff of orange smoke. With that done, Twilight finished off her tea and quickly snuck back into the library. The front door was closed, and there was no sign of anypony. Twilight turned to the basement door. That door too, was locked. Twilight trotted over to the check-out counter to see if anypony had dropped off anything. There was nothing.
Then a thought struck Twilight. Who would visit a library this early in the morning in the first place? Twilight knew that she herself would do so, but she knew that nopony would visit the library so desperately that they would come so early. Twilight looked up at the wall clock hanging right above the door. It was 6.13 in the morning.
The only pony awake at this hour would most likely be Applejack, but I doubt that she would visit the library without her breakfast and applebucking. Twilight sighed. She opened the front door and exited. Twilight glanced around the outside, hoping to see any traces of somepony. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Twilight glanced up. Already Princess Celestia’s sun’s rays were showing above the horizon.
Twilight retreated inside. Maybe I shouldn’t worry so much. Twilight trotted back over to the basement door. Just as she was about to open the door, a terrifying thought struck her. What if- Twilight didn’t want to complete the thought. Twilight reversed her steps, moving away from the door as she glanced to the left and the right, looking for a weapon she could use.
This could do. Twilight levitated over an unused lamp, which was about a metre long and made of steel, from the corner of the room. Twilight took a deep breath, and trotted back over to the basement door. Inching it open slowly, Twilight prepared herself for whatever she might have to. The lights along the staircase were bright. Twilight considered dimming it down a bit, but she knew that anything could hide in the darkness.
Carefully, almost painfully, Twilight put one hoof in front of the other as she descended the staircase. The journey down the short flight of stairs was eerily quiet, the only sound being Twilight’s breathing and the sound of the lamp levitating behind her. Twilight continued slowly, noticing the basement lights bathing the bottom of the stairway.
Twilight reached the end, and gasped. Her coffee cup was turned over, its contents nearly soaking Twilight’s books and notes, but what Twilight was shocked at the most was the absence of the human she had attached the gauge upon. Twilight galloped into the middle of the room, lamp still in tow behind her, and scanned all around, hoping that she was wrong about the human not being in the basement.
Ziamel was nowhere to be seen, and Twilight feared for the worst. There’s an unstable, almost unknown creature on the loose, and I’m responsible for it! Twilight knew she should have prepared for a potential escape. That’s when another disturbing thought crossed her mind. What if the human is capable of doing what I had read about them?
Twilight let go of the lamp, ignoring the sound of the steel clattering against the wooden floor. She dashed up the staircase, planning her next course of action. If she let the princess know of the human’s disappearance, she could organise a search party for the human. As she thought so, another side of her brain fired back at her. But what if the human acts out of hoof? He’s already close to snapping! There’s no telling what the human is capable of!
Twilight stepped out into the library, glancing around as if the human was hiding there. If Celestia is in control of the situation, there shouldn’t be any problems with the human at all! The guards can easily overpower him. Twilight thought back to her plan of using a blackout spell. Maybe I can find the human myself? Twilight shook her head. No, bad idea. I don’t want anything terrible to happen.
Twilight trotted upstairs to her bedroom, wondering if her assistant was awake. She knew just the pony to look around for the human. As she expected, her assistant was already awake, yawning as he stretched in his basket.
“Spike! We have an issue in our hooves!” Twilight shouted at Spike. Taken by surprise, Spike leapt into the air, knocking the basket over as he did so, emptying its contents onto the floor.
“Geez, Twilight. Why so edgy? Just give me a moment.” Spike said.
“I have all the right to be edgy! We have a potential crisis going on!”
Spike yawned again. “Well then fill me in. If you want my help you don’t have to leave me out on everything you know.”
Twilight sighed. “Alright, but we’re going to have to make this quick.”
Ziamel had woken up upon hearing the sound of a door closing. He groaned. Dammit Gary, can’t you sneak out more silently? Ziamel’s eyes scanned the blurred environment around him. He groaned louder and tried to shut his eyes, but the lights were on and they were stinging his eyes painfully. He felt something against his back, which he ignored, too sleepy to even care. After a couple of minutes of unsuccessful re-entry into the world of sleep, Ziamel yawned and grumbled as he sat up.
He blinked a couple of times, clearing up the blurriness as he slowly got hold of his bearings. He flexed his neck a couple of times, the sound of a ‘crick’ notable. Ziamel stretched his arm to his back, planning to scratch it, only to come into contact with a cylinder and wires pressed into his back.
Now wide awake in surprise, Ziamel ran his hand across his back, carefully running his hands across the device. What in testicular meningitis is this thing? He carefully poked at the wires around the base of the device and around his upper back, right near the spinal column. This had better be a weird as fuck nightmare I’m having now.
He stopped running his hands across his back and scanned his surroundings. Maybe this is a nightmare. I don’t even know where the hell I am. The light hanging above him made things hard to concentrate. Ziamel sniffed the air, detecting the scent of coffee nearby. Well this is a vivid dream. Ziamel glanced upon a workbench, and identified the source of the liquid caffeine.
Ziamel crawled over to the workbench, and carefully hoisted himself up onto his feet with assistance from a nearby stool to steady himself. On the workbench was a pile of books, detailing the Milky Way Galaxy, Earth and humans, a blueprint, which Ziamel assumed was for the device he was wearing, and coffee pitcher and mug. Ziamel’s first action was to pour himself coffee.
As he filled the mug from it’s almost-empty state to three quarters full, Ziamel swept his eyes across the blueprint. He sipped a bit of the coffee, humming in contentment at how good it tasted, as he went through the details written. The more he read the more he felt that he really was dreaming. There surely can’t exist such a device, right?
That’s when reality finally hit him across the face with a brick. Wait. I wake up somewhere unknown with this thing across my back. Am I being used for something? Ziamel’s eyes widened. He set the mug down and continued reading the blueprints. Emotional, physical, mental... What the hell is this shit?
Ziamel could feel the warm glow of the gauge attached to his back. As he came to the end of the blueprints, he read that the hologram detailing his emotional, mental and physical conditions could be switched to display in front of the bearer of the gauge.
He reached behind, referring to the blueprints as he tried to feel for a button to flip the holographic screen for him to read. After what seemed like minutes of feeling around, he finally found a button. The button seemed to stick out, like it was supposed to be pushed. He gave the button a poke, and immediately a screen appeared in front of him.
The first thing he saw upon the holographic screen was a little red bar at the bottom, labelled ‘Sanity’ with its percentage along with it. Ziamel’s jaw dropped. Had he been observing his emotional bar, he would have noticed ‘confusion’ and ‘others’ rapidly increasing. Damn, this shit seems to be rather accurate. Ziamel didn’t want to know how his estimate of his sanity was correct even before he got the device on.
Ziamel ran his eyes across the other statistics, his ‘others’ part of the emotional bar spiking more as ‘confusion’ remained stagnant at 6%. Ziamel reached across the table, wanting to achieve the mug of coffee, but only succeeded in knocking it over. Panicking, Ziamel got a hold of the cup before it could topple onto the floor. The contents, however, were spilled across one side of the workbench and, thankfully, away from the books, but Ziamel couldn’t guarantee that some of the coffee would not soak the books and the blueprints.
He stepped back from the workbench, trying to devise an escape plan. Hell, I don’t even know my way around here. Ziamel didn’t want to touch anything further. He reached back and pushed the button again, and the holographic screen disappeared behind him. Ziamel crept carefully to a well-lighted staircase. Here goes.
Ziamel made sure that with every step he took, it would be at the sides of the wooden stair. He had read once that wooden stairs tend to creak most when pressure is applied to the middle. Continuing his ascent, Ziamel braced himself for whatever he might have to be facing after the final step of the staircase.
He arrived at a door, and took a deep breath. He counted from one to three, stopping mid-count when he ran his hands across his pants to wipe off some coffee. Reaching into his pocket, he achieved a pen. Hey, I still have my journal with me. Ziamel took the ballpoint pen out and clicked it. At least I have something to protect myself with.
Opening the door, Ziamel was surprised that there was no creaking sound, like most of the doors in his dormitory. What surprised him more was the feeling of familiarity as he quickly shut the door behind him. It’s like I’ve been here before. Ziamel almost dropped his pen, and snapped out of his short reverie. He could hear some sounds coming from another part of the library, and he strode carefully over.
He could hear the sounds of scribbling and slurping as he noted that, this section of the library, was not in anyway recognisable like the rest of the library. Peeking in, he saw something that defied all of his thoughts about ponies.
Right there, in a place that seemed to look like a kitchen, was the lavender unicorn mare, writing down what seemed to be a friendship letter. Pure shock gripped Ziamel as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. It took him all of his willpower to not turn what he was thinking into speech. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.
As he stood there with his jaw dropped, he watched Twilight slurp more of her beverage. At the same time he heard a trio of ‘beep’ sounds coming from behind him. Ziamel inhaled sharply, and retreated back into the library. He pushed the button on the gauge on his back and the holographic screen reappeared in front of him. There was only a little difference, but that difference meant a lot to Ziamel.
The little red bar labelled ‘Sanity’ was now flashing an even brighter red, with the percentage displayed at the side. 4%? Are you fucking kidding me! Ziamel trembled. He wanted so badly to wake up from this nightmare. This...All of this! It cannot be real! This is one fucked up nightmare! I know of it!
Ziamel attempted to prove his point by punching the library wall with all of his might. He bit his lip as his knuckles collided with the solid wood, and he fought back a pained scream. Grasping his fist with his other hand, he whispered to himself, “This is no nightmare. This is just pure mental torture!”
He glanced around, quickly looking for any way of escaping the library. Ziamel had had enough of this ‘nightmare’. He crept around quietly, only finding a door after several minutes. He reached behind and pushed the button, making the holographic screen appear on his back again. This is bad this is bad this is baaaaaaad.
He opened the library door and unlike the basement door, this one creaked. Cursing, Ziamel quickly snuck out before shutting the door and taking a deep breath. This is some bad, bad shit you’re in, Ziamel. Some really, really bad shit. He kept his pen in his pocket. The sun’s rays were already visible over the horizon.
Ziamel could hear Twilight calling out in the kitchen, but he decided to ignore her and quickly made his way over to, what seemed like a safe place at a time, the Everfree forest, which he was certain was not more than five minutes away.
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.
