Lost Soul

March 1st, 2052
I’ve spent quite a bit of time over the last week researching what I could of their culture and history. The constellations match the ones I see on my world, and since this planet has yet to be discovered by our top scientists, I can safely confirm that this is an alternate Earth. I suppose I should be more distraught about it, but it strangely doesn’t bother me that much. Magic exists on this version of Earth, and after Twilight’s lecture on it the other day, I’m almost certain it’s how I got here in the first place. Since that’s the case, all I really need to do is find some spell to take me home. Until I do, I see no reason I shouldn’t just treat this as some sort of extended, forced vacation of sorts. Although, if I can’t find my way back, well… Perhaps I shouldn’t dwell on it too much. At least it wouldn’t take much to get used to, since this society and mine are eerily similar. There’s not too much difference between being here and maybe some small socialist country in Europe, like Norway, or something. Actually, they’re capitalist, so it’s more like living in the rural south minus the religious zealotry.

At any rate, Twilight’s explanation of how magic works here was extremely fascinating. This leyline system she mentioned when I first got here is apparently tied to the nervous system, and it utilizes your imagination and willpower to bend the reality around you within reason. It’s what the horn on her head is for- a “focal point” I think she called it- to funnel mana both in and around your body to convert into spells. Her entire species uses it to a certain extent, it’s just more pronounced in unicorns since their spells have more of a direct impact on reality than earth ponies and pegasi do. I believe she said it manifests in earth ponies in physical strength mostly, and pegasi with their ability to walk on clouds- although at this point I had yet to see that, so I thought she was just messing with me- and apparently they can break the sound barrier if certain conditions are met.

It’s both an absolute tragedy and an extreme relief that humans can’t use magic due to their lack of a focal point. I shudder to think what atrocities we could have committed with this before finally doing something worthwhile. It’s far more likely we would have killed each other off before getting the chance to do something good with it in the first place, actually. I figured when I made it back home, I’d never tell the rest of my species about the utilization of magic, assuming they didn’t lock me up in an insane asylum first. In the meantime, further study of how exactly magic works will be necessary.

As far as Equestrian culture goes, minus a few colloquialisms that mean the same thing but are worded a slight bit differently, it’s so shockingly similar to my own that it’s actually terrifying. They have quite a number of the same things that serve the same function back on my world, like most- if not all- of their kitchen appliances, railroads and trains, electrical sockets in the more developed towns, doors and cabinets, the list just goes on and on. I’m still not quite familiar with all the intricate societal details yet, but I can’t imagine it’d take much getting used to with all these similarities in place. I think some of the only slight differences were that ponies had ridiculously long lifespans without really much technological aid. 150 was the average across the board, with some unicorns being able to surpass even that. Apparently the more you’re able to cycle the mana in your leyline systems, a natural process most unicorns use to cast spells in the first place, the more it preserves the integrity and longevity of your organs. Only downside is the converse is true as well; if you allow your mana to stagnate and not use it in any capacity, it’s liable to kill you. I know far too many people that would have jumped at the opportunity for a much riskier drawback, so I am once more relieved that my race cannot use magic to this extent. We would have definitely abused this by now. Like that book from the ‘10s… What was it called? Altered something? The one where humans transfer their consciousness to a little disk embedded into their spine at birth so they can swap bodies like they’re candy and live forever? That one.

The extreme longevity of these ponies led to their society having a higher age of consent than mine: 20. They go through puberty at roughly the same time humans do, though, so I’m not really sure what they’re doing to ease the tension of hormones for an extra 2 years. My society had the internet, and by extension a metric shit ton of porn with it, so it was a bit easier to get some quick relief even if it wasn’t technically legal. I had asked Twilight how ponies go through puberty, only for her to offhandedly- offhoofedly? I swear to fucking god, these horse puns are so stupid- mention that mares go through an estrus cycle and that once a month they need to relieve it, pretty different in comparison to humans basically just being horny 24/7 until their bodies adjust to the hormonal imbalance. She didn’t really go into detail about it, though. I think she was embarrassed by the topic altogether. If I’m really that interested, it’ll just have to be something I look into on my own later, I suppose.

I was in the middle of reading a book, about the development of their steam engines for trains, when Twilight walked over to me. She had been rather inquisitive the past week, occasionally coming up and asking me a number of questions about my society she missed from the first day. I always answered the best I could, but not even I know everything. She tried asking me to share the secrets of FTL travel with her as an example, but I honestly don’t know much about it other than some of what was figured out during my lifetime. What little I had wouldn’t have been anywhere near enough to utilize it here. She also decided to house me for the time being until I either found a way home or found a home of my own here, a gesture I found to be far too kind and tried to outright refuse before, but she insisted. I figured the least I could do was some of her house chores and to answer any of her questions to the best of my ability, barring any national secrets, obviously.

Her house chores led me to working with the dragon on a number of occasions. It was during this I found out he was actually a boy. He was some 8 years younger than her, with Twilight being 21 and Spike being 13 by extension. Seemed pretty relieved that I was helping him out around the house. Apparently picking up after Twilight can get rather cumbersome, so he appreciated all the help he could get. Currently Spike was indisposed with Rarity. She never explicitly said it, but the way Twilight was talking about it, it seemed like he had some huge crush on her. It was a bit… difficult to relate to him since he was so young. It’s been a long time since I’ve been a child. So, so long.

Back to the topic at hand, instead of asking me about something as per usual during the last week, Twilight just stood next to me after walking up and stared. I expected a question, but it never came.

I was forced to look over at her. “Yes, Twilight?”

“Um, Franco? I was thinking.” She started, levitating the book I still had in my hand away from me. “Maybe it’s not healthy to coop yourself up in here for so long? I know you wanted to learn about Equestrian culture, but you can learn it away from the library too.”

“Would you prefer I read away from the library?” I asked carefully. I wasn’t sure if she was kicking me out or not, not that I’d blame her if she did.

“No, no! Nothing like that, you’ve been quite a helpful house guest. It’s just…” She gave me a sheepish smile. “I was thinking maybe you could spend some time making friends? It might help you get some perspective of our culture a little better.”

“Not interested.” I immediately turned back the bookshelf and started to search for another book I could read.

“Not- but- wha-?” She stammered over herself. I wasn’t looking, but I imagine her face would have been quite amusing with how dumbstruck she was. “Why?”

“Not interested,” I repeated. “What’s the point in wasting my time to make friends I’m never going to see again after I make it back home?”

“You don’t know that!”

I turned to face her again so I could give her an angry glare.

“I meant, there’s always a possibility that you'll be able to come back, especially if we’re using a spell to send you home. Why not give it a chance?”

“I don’t do friendship, Twilight Sparkle. I’m. Not. Interested. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

She sighed. “I really didn’t want to have to do this, Franco.”

“What are you talking abou- Ah!” Her horn flared as I felt a force pushing me from the front, nearly knocking me over backwards as her magic pushed me all the way to the entrance of the library.

“Come on! It’ll be fun! I’ll even go with you.” She said, following in front of me as I was pushed.

Fortunately, she realized that I’d need to practically fold myself over to get through the door, so she stopped me there, blocking my path back inside. I gave her a scowl upon the act. “Don’t ever touch me again, and I’ll indulge this nonsensical friendship quest of yours just this once.”

Grudgingly, I opened the door to the library and managed to lower my legs enough to make it through the door frame without bending down so far that I’d need to tumble through again like last time. Twilight followed me out and locked the door behind her. I took the opportunity to stretch my body upwards to its fullest extent. I’m glad I’m not claustrophobic, because being 5’8” in a world filled with people under 3’ would definitely trigger that fear constantly.

I had to blink a few times to readjust my eyes to the sheer amount of natural sunlight they were now taking in. Twilight pushed on ahead, walking a little further ahead of me before stopping and looking back.

“Come on, we’re going to Sugarcube Corner.”

“That’s… that bakery, isn’t it?” I said walking over to her. I remembered her mentioning some landmarks her friends frequented and/or lived at in some cases over the last couple days. Looking back, I guess this was the reason why, although I didn’t care to notice at the time.

“You remembered!” She beamed at me. “We’re going to see if Pinkie needs any help in the kitchen. I heard she’s gotten quite the rush of ponies recently.”

Of course it’s baking. It had to be baking. I gave her a deadpan stare. “...So you’re just going to throw me into a busy kitchen, during a rush, all in an attempt to make friends? You don’t even know if I can bake.”

“Eh, baking is just chemistry with extra steps, and that’s a subject you told me you’re familiar with. You should be fine. Baking isn’t the point of this trip, anyway. Besides, I’m going with you, so if you’re ever stuck you can always ask either of us.”

She clearly put a lot more thought into this than I expected. “Why do you even care so much about my social life? What’s in it for you?”

Twilight frowned. “Who says I have to gain something from helping someone else?”

I rolled my eyes. My prior experiences back home led me to believe she was lying. “How altruistic, but you’re still ignoring my other question. Why do you care?”

She walked close to me, looking right up at my face. “There was a time when I used to be like you, you know? I threw myself at my studies without giving even the slightest thought of what it would do to me as a pony. I was so lonely that I got used to it, expected it to be the norm. So when others tried to be my friend, I brushed them off with the same kind of excuses you used. Had I not given friendship a try, I wouldn’t have been able to meet the best friends I’ll ever have. I don’t want you to miss out on something like that, and I especially don’t want to see you fall into the same trap I did. Is it so much to ask that I want to see you happy?”

I stood there, completely awestruck at her sentiments. She truly cared about a broken mess like me. Deep down, I was touched, truly. “...What makes you think I’m not happy?”

“You haven’t smiled, laughed, or even cracked a single joke since you’ve been here. You really expect me to believe that you are?” It was an accusatory question, but it strangely wasn’t malicious. Caring. Nurturing. I believe those would be more apt descriptions.

You’re far too late to help someone like me, Twilight Sparkle. I stayed quiet. Honestly, what could I say that would even sound remotely convincing? She got me. Hit the nail on the head before I even had the opportunity to retaliate. I never stood a chance.

“I just want to help you,” She placed her hoof on my leg. It must have been a gentle touch, because I couldn’t feel it through my jeans. “All I ask is that you give it a try. Please?”

Her purity was overwhelming. Her knowledge, her kindness, her attempts to understand me, her patience, her altruistic nature I mocked. It was just too much. Here’s someone who genuinely cared not only about me and my well-being, but my future as well. And over what? Locking myself into a study session for a week? How could I even tell her that I’ve trapped myself into this loneliness for 5 years? That I deserve it?

I wanted to tell her not to touch me, but I thought just this once, I’ll let it slide. “...I think you’re wasting your time, but fine.”

Twilight smiled at me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that smile. “I don’t think so. Come on, let’s have some fun helping Pinkie out.”

I couldn’t bear to look at her for the rest of the trip down to the bakery. It felt like staring into a star. Too long, and I’d go blind. Making our way inside Sugarcube Corner was just as much of a hassle as going into the library. I really needed to figure out a way to go through these door frames easier. Fortunately, there weren’t a lot of ponies inside by the time we got there. My arrival definitely got some strange stares and odd looks from those that were there, though.

An exacerbated Pinkie made her way to the counter once the bell on the door chimed signifying our entrance. We met her at said counter and Pinkie practically melted on top of it.

“Oh, Twilight. Thank Celestia you’re here!” She craned her head up to look at me. “And Franco! I thought you got stuck in the library!”

“No.”

“We’re here to help, Pinkie.” Twilight piped up. “Both of us.” She took extra care to stress the last part.

“Thanks, Twilight. I’ll take whatever help I can get! With the Cakes gone on vacation until next week, I’ve practically run myself ragged trying to catch up with the orders and keeping the display full!”

“Uh…” With the way Pinkie phrased that, I thought this was just some elaborate joke she was setting up about being busy.

Twilight must have seen my confusion, because she immediately clarified, “The Cakes are the owners of the bakery.”

“Right…” I nodded, still unsure if it was a practical joke. I was so thrown off from earlier that it didn’t immediately click to me that the owners’ names were Cake.

Pinkie bolted back into the kitchen with a speed that rivaled a cheetah, saying something like “Hurry,” and “This cake isn’t going to bake itself,” I think? It was kinda hard to make out since she was now suddenly in another room.

“Is… Is she always like this?”

“Most of the time, although I’ve never seen her this stressed before,” Twilight said, a look of worry growing on her face. “We should probably hurry to the kitchen.”

Twilight went ahead of me as I struggled to get past the barrier between the dining side and the rest of the building. Being this tall was making it unnecessarily difficult to get around. By the time I finally caught up with them, I found the kitchen in a state of utter disarray. Cake tins and bowls were everywhere, with flour scattered about around most of them. Twilight had tried to immediately start cleaning the place, but with how messy everything was it’s likely she was going to be at it for the next hour. Pinkie was working on this sickly brown mixture that was almost unrecognizable, but I could tell it was probably some sort of cake batter with the bits of eggshell she was trying to whisk in. She was looking right at them, but something told me she didn’t actually see them.

“I’ve tried just about everything, but I just can’t get it to work!” Pinkie was nearly whining. Honestly with the tone in her voice, it seemed like she was on the verge of tears despite not showing it. She just kept whisking and whisking, desperately trying to work her botched mixture.

Finally, I’d had enough. I couldn’t just sit there and allow any more ingredients to be wasted on whatever she was working on. I grabbed the hoof she was using to mix and slowly grinded it to a halt. “Stop. You’re not going to catch up if you panic. Take a step back, and breathe.” I tried to refrain from saying “calm down.” In my experience on the job, it never worked.

She looked up at me, then back at her bowl. I think she realized just how much she screwed up on the mixture because she let go of the whisk still in her hoof, nodded, and took a couple steps backward. I took that opportunity to seize the bowl and dump the contents into a nearby trash bin. There was no way we could have salvaged that batter. Absolutely not.

I used the nearby sink to wash out the bowl and whisk she was using, dried them off, and went back over to where she was working. I guess Pinkie really took my advice to heart since she was in the middle of deep breathing exercises once I got back. “Now, what were you trying to make?”

“Custard cheesecake,” she said, a dejected look on her face. “But I just can’t get the batter right.”

Custard cheesecake with that kind of batter? There’s no way she separated her yolks and whites. “That I can help you with.” I swiftly gathered the ingredients I would need to make such a cake, measuring the appropriate amounts of sugar, vanilla extract, cake flour, and cornstarch and set them off to the side so that they could be used when needed. I grabbed a stove pot, two bowls, three eggs, and some milk and cream cheese and began my explanation of what she should be looking for when making cheesecakes like this.

“You always want to separate your yolks and whites when making cheesecakes,” I cracked one of the eggs and, using the eggshells, kept transferring the egg back and forth, letting more and more of the whites out into the bowl below with every transfer. It was separated completely after three as I dumped the remaining yolk in the stove pot. “It’s okay to get some whites in with the yolks, but you absolutely can’t get yolks in with the whites. The mixture will split once you start trying to whisk it. Give it a shot.” I handed her one of the two eggs left.

Pinkie took the egg and clumsily tried to mimic what she saw me do. It wasn’t perfect, but she got it after about six or seven transfers. How ponies even held things with their hooves perplexed me, but I wasn’t about to question it in a world where magic was rampant. Unfortunately, a sizable piece of one of her eggshells got mixed in with the whites, and her face immediately deflated. She looked up at me wordlessly, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. I had no idea she had been so frustrated with this upon going up to the counter earlier. She never showed it.

“Don’t panic, that’s fixable.” I tried to assuage her fears. “Take the tip of your hoof and dip it into some water.” I was going to go get a cup and fill it with some water, but found that it had already been poured and was sitting at the countertop waiting to be used. Twilight’s doing, no doubt. I took it and brought it near her, to which she eagerly followed my instructions. “Now, dab your hoof on the eggshell in the whites.”

Pinkie did so and, much to her surprise, there was a piece of shell sticking to the tip of her hoof. She brushed it off into the nearest trash bin. I handed her the other egg to get her to try again. She was far more comfortable around it this time, only taking five attempts and not getting any eggshell in either of the mixtures. Now that we had our yolks and whites separated, I could move onto the next step.

“Now the custard.” I took the whisk and began beating the egg yolks, pouring in some sugar and cornstarch to incorporate. I did the same with the vanilla extract and milk. After stirring to make sure all the ingredients were mixed in properly, I turned on the stove and put the pot on. I handed her the whisk while it was on the stove and she continued stirring. It continued for a bit until I saw that the eggs were starting to get a slight curdle upon each of her turns. “Now turn off the heat and take the pot away from the stove.”

Following my instructions to the letter, Pinkie moved it away from the heat as I grabbed a stick of butter from the fridge and cut off about 20g of it. Doing it by eye was much harder than with a scale, especially since it had been a little while since I made this type of cheesecake, but I was almost positive I got it right. I dumped the butter I cut into the pot. “Now make use of the residual heat and stir in the butter.”

As she was doing so, I put the cream cheese in the other bowl, found another whisk and began to stir it until it was starting to get smooth. Once I saw that she had incorporated the butter into the custard, I found a sif and sifted the cake flour into it. She didn’t need any instruction as she stirred the mixture to work in the new ingredient. It seemed like she got her confidence back, as she poured the custard into the bowl of cream cheese and began combining those as well. She set it off to the side after she was sure it was the consistency she wanted.

I was going to explain the meringue, but before I even had the opportunity she grabbed the whites along with a hand- or I guess they’d be called hoof?- mixer and whirred away at it, adding sugar in batches to eventually get it to form soft peaks.

Seeing that she no longer needed any help, I moved out of her way and started helping Twilight clean up around the kitchen, washing and drying the dishes that were used before we got here, as well as wiping down some of the countertops with excess flour on them.

I turned around from wiping down one of the counters to check on how Pinkie was doing only to find her attempting to dump all of the meringue into the custard at once. I quickly placed my hand over the bowl and set it back down on the counter, grabbing a silicone spatula and placing it in her hoof. I held the bowl in front of her. “Take half, then fold it into the custard. Once it’s folded add the next half. If you add it all at once you’ll get lumpy cheesecake.”

She smiled and nodded at me, taking half the meringue and slowly folding it in. While she was readying the final stretch of prep work to bake the cheesecake, I lined a collapsible mold with butter and baking parchment, along with using a spare burner to quickly heat up some water. I also took two different size baking tins to help make the steam bath.

Once I saw that Pinkie had finished the last task she needed for the cheesecake, I handed her the mold to put the batter into. She hastily poured in the batter, opened the oven, and nearly shoved it in before I managed to stop her.

“Hold on. You’re skipping some of the most important steps.” I closed the oven and took the ring mold back onto the table. “You don’t want to do all this work and have it be ruined just because cheesecake batter is fickle. Custard cheesecake even more so.”

I tapped the ring mold onto the counter a couple times, explaining more as I went. “Tap your tin to make sure there’s no air bubbles lurking in the batter. And you can’t just straight bake it, either. If you do, you’ll end up with a cracked cheesecake and in some cases, curdled custard.” I hadn’t intended on using alliteration today, but that apparently was pretty funny to Pinkie as she giggled in response.

I grabbed the ring mold and placed it inside the shorter tin, grabbed the tin and placed it in the larger one. I took the heated water and poured it in between the two tins, creating my aforementioned steam bath. “Use the steam bath method to get it risen and cooked properly. Bake it for an hour, turn off the oven and let the cake sit in there to cool down for ten minutes.”

She nodded profusely as I reopened the oven and put the cake in. I was going to let her do it, but the tins were heavy from the water and I didn’t want her to burn herself on something.

“Is… Is that all?” Pinkie asked apprehensively.

“I guess optionally you can add a jam or preserves on top after it’s cooled off, but otherwise, yes. You’re done.” The entire process took maybe half an hour, but it felt like I had been there for a month with how much I had to multitask. Between prepping the cake, hand holding Pinkie through most of it, and cleaning the massive mess that was this kitchen, I felt like passing out and not waking back up for the next week. This was one of the reasons I hadn’t bothered with baking too much lately. It was just such a hassle to make some of the better stuff.

Pinkie apparently felt similar to me, because she immediately slumped on the floor and started crying, clinging to my leg and rubbing her face over my jeans. “Thank you-huu-huu…!”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “Calm down, it’s just a cheesecake.” I was a little unnerved, not only by her heart on her sleeve, but also the fountain-like state of her eyes that wouldn’t stop leaking. I really wish that was hyperbole. It’s not. Tears just fucking everywhere. I’m honestly shocked it didn’t drench my pants.

“But it’s naaaaahhhhhht!” She kept bawling. “I thought I was gonna diiiiieeeeee!”

“Holy shit.” I really didn’t expect her to take it this hard. It just seems like such a stupid thing to get upset over. “Uh, Twilight? Little…” I trailed off after looking around to see that she had snuck out. When she managed this was beyond me. “...Help.” This bitch did that on purpose. This is your friend to console, not mine! I swear I’m gonna strangle her later.

I really didn’t know what to do about the sobbing pony clinging to my leg. In my line of work, no one wears their heart on their sleeve. At least not the ones who have been doing it for as long as I have, so consoling people wasn’t exactly one of my strong suits. “Uh… There, there?” I copied what I saw Twilight do day 1 and haphazardly patted her head twice.

It was a gesture she appreciated far too much. “You’re so niii-hii-hiiice! You-you help with the custard cheesecake and you’re nice to meeee! I’m sorry I ever called you a meanie!”

“Wait, what?” I don’t recall her calling me that, so she said that about me behind my back?

“I called you a meanieeeee! I’m sooooorrrryyy-hyyy-hyyyyyy! How can you ever forgive meeeeee?”

I used my hand to try and gently peel her off my leg. “How about you get the fuck off me and stop crying, and we’ll call it even?” I was convinced that if I had to listen to her bawling any longer, I’d get a migraine.

Finally- finally- Pinkie stopped clinging to me. She was still sniffling a little, but at least the waterworks were over for now. “O-okay.”

Fucking hell. I don’t think I want to help her with baking ever again if it’s gonna turn out like this every time.

She sniffled again. “S-so you know how to bake?”

Normally I would’ve given a smart-ass, snarky response at the obvious stupidity of the question, like obviously I can bake. What else have we been doing the last half hour? This time, however, I jumped at the chance for being able to have a conversation that wasn’t going to end in her crying a literal river by the end of it. I didn’t think I could handle that again. “Yeah. Was a hobby of mine for a while.”

“You don’t do it professionally?”

“No.”

“You coulda fooled me!” Pinkie giggled. “Why not?”

Because it reminds me too much of the time I spent with him. “No particular reason.”

She gave me a quizzical stare as she tilted her head. I knew what she wanted to get at, but she wasn’t getting any more information on that than I’ve already given her. “By the way, why did you use two tins for the water bath? Don’t you only need one?”

Kinda surprised she paid attention to that, all things considered. “Because we used a collapsible mold to put the cake in. Water can seep into those, so I needed to add another layer to prevent that. Also the water can’t make contact with the tin the cake is in, otherwise the custard will get cooked improperly.”

“Oh. Then why didn’t we use a normal cake mold?” Pinkie stared up at me expectantly.

“Because custard cheesecakes are notoriously fragile and collapsible molds offer an easy way for the cake to come out in comparison to a normal cake tin.”

“Is that why the cake needs to sit in the oven to cool off?”

“Correct.” Honestly, I’m kind of impressed at how easily she’s following along with this. I thought she didn’t have a lot of baking experience, but it looks like she just struggles with custard? Or maybe... “You don’t bake a lot of cheesecakes, do you?”

She gave me a sheepish grin. “Not really. They don’t really stay good at parties. That’s why I got so frazzled when a customer ordered one of the hardest cheesecakes to bake that we serve here. Thanks for your help, Franco. Really.”

“...Yeah. Don’t mention it. There anything else pressing that you need help with?”

“Nope! I should be okie-dokie-lokie from here!” Pinkie beamed at me.

“...Right. If that’s the case, then I should probably find Twilight.” And give her a piece or two of my mind while I’m at it.

I saw that there was another exit to the bakery from the kitchen, and figured that must have been what Twilight used to sneak out earlier. I made my way towards it but was stopped by Pinkie before I could leave.

“Hey, Franco?”

“Hm?” I turned just enough so I could see her. She had these wishful eyes plastered on her face.

“You think maybe you could stop by again sometime? It doesn’t have to be to help, if you wanted to just hang out?”

I should say no. I’m not here to make friends. And yet… “...I’ll think about it.” I just didn’t have the heart to crush her like that. Not after the day she’s had.