“This sucks!” Button cried, lolling his head back and groaning.

“Button!” Maribelle chastised. “Dish Panner worked very hard on this. You should be more respectful.”

“Not the food,” Button said disgruntledly. “It’s just so boring here! All we do is sit around, talk about how horrible this place is, but how hopeful and cheery and happy we should be and how much we love each other and how everything’s gonna be a - okay! And we eat and we sleep and we talk about crazy serial killers and get shouted at by a rabbit. Just where is the fun in that!?” He slammed his hooves down on the table. “I want to play video games but there’s nothing here!”

The entire population of the dome had once again returned to the dining hall for a prepared meal. Dish Panner’s culinary expertise (alongside Maribelle’s help) had produced yet another sensory delight that myself and the group at large had wolfed down with much praise, not that it seemed to faze her.

The articles had been disposed of in the kitchen’s waste-bin, which I had only just come to realize must be emptied each night and replaced with a fresh bag while everyone slept. It got me thinking what could possibly be learned if anyone were to catch Monobunny – or whomever else might be responsible – in the act. But with everyone being monitored through the cameras, could such a thing be possible?

Mesmer had thankfully returned looking like his old apathetic, reserved self. After he hadn’t come back for a while I had begun to worry that something terrible had happened. That maybe, after telling me there was always hope, he had ended his life. Given his earlier demeanor, I genuinely wouldn’t have been surprised.

Amidst the small amount of idle chatter, Button’s outburst had taken our attention. Elsie and Dish Panner muttered about how insignificant Button’s so-called games were while Maribelle appeared entirely clueless, as if she’d never heard of video games. Her suggestion to play “I spy” was met with as much ire from Button as could be expected. The teenage colt was getting increasingly restless.

“None of you understand. I can’t keep going like this! I need games to play! Real games!”

“Button, you’re being too loud,” Maribelle said, rubbing his back to calm him down. “I’m so sorry about this, everyone. I’ll take him back to his room.”

“Wait a minute,” Yoko said between massive mouthfuls. “What about those games in the rec room?”

Button groaned. “They’re not the same! They’re board games and card games and stuff. Nothing like…” Gradually, a look of realization appeared on his face. “Actually, they might be okay. Yeah, now that I think about it, that might work! Who’s with me!?”

The rest of the group carried on eating. I happened to be somewhat intrigued by Button’s proposal – I had never played a board game in my life – but the silence from everyone else pressured me into saying nothing.

“Anyone!? Come on, ponies. I can’t just play something on my own!”

“I’ll come with you,” Maribelle said, smiling.

Button frowned, eyeing his beautiful but hopelessly dim object of affections with a discerning eye. “Anyone else want to come along?”

“Sorry, buddy,” Inky cut in with. “I’m not really the type for that stuff. I’m more into roleplay and physical games.” She flicked her sunglasses back into position and sat back, grinning in Sanscript’s direction. The stallion frowned, pretending not to notice.

“Someone, please!” Button cried.

“No, nobody gives a damn!” Elsie chided. “My word, you’re acting like a spoiled brat! Get out of here and play solitaire or some other nonsense. What point is there in playing silly games when our lives are at stake!?”

“Button,” Maribelle uttered, gesturing for him to quiet down.

“Fine! We’ll go!” Button yelled, muttering obscenities under his breath. Maribelle followed sheepishly after him, glancing back at the rest of us with an apologetic expression. I watched them leave, my body creeping forward involuntarily as I wondered if I should follow them.

“Greyscale,” Mesmer said aloud. “If you want to go with them, then go.”

I tensed up, blood flowing to my cheeks as everyone’s eyes suddenly fell on me. “I mean, I wasn’t…”

“Nothing wrong with playing a game,” Mesmer said. “Just go. Keep an eye on them.”

“Hey!” Copper cried. “You don’t get to order him around! You’re embarrassing him!”

“Couldn’t care less,” Mesmer replied, shaking his head slightly.

“Damn you!” Copper got down from her seat, marched right up to Mesmer and began blaring in his face. “You’re nothing but a bully! Let him do what he wants!”

“What do you think I was doing?” Mesmer said, unfazed. “I can tell from his posture that he wanted to go with them; I was just giving him a friendly little push. If he wants to play a game…” Mesmer trailed off, his eyeline drifting into the ether. A look of realization suddenly washed across his face. “A game,” he repeated, quieter this time, his eyes narrowing. I knew that look. He had figured something out.

“What, did your brain melt?” Copper said mockingly.

Mesmer shot up, almost toppling Copper to the floor as he did so and walking towards me. His expression was harsh and serious.

“Hey! An ‘excuse me’ would have been nice!” Copper cried, chasing after him.

Elsie let out an exasperated sigh. “Could I get one moment of peace and quiet from you pedants!?”

“Let’s go,” Mesmer said to me. “Let’s play a game.”

I stared back in disbelief. I couldn’t understand for one second why Mesmer would suggest such a thing, but I had to believe that he had a good reason. I didn’t understand him at all, couldn’t wrap my head around his actions, the way one moment he seemed to respect and care for me and the next treat me like dirt, and yet I found myself inclined to trust him.

Something about Yoko’s story, too, seemed to back up this feeling. His master, ‘The Devil,’ had treated him even more harshly, not out of dislike, but out of respect, out of hope for something better. Both a mentor and a rival. And so I wondered, was that Mesmer’s intention? And if so, could I tip the balance in my favor in a way even he couldn’t foresee? And what else was he planning? How much could he know?

This place really is amazing, isn’t it?

“Alright,” I said.

“What?” Copper balked. She frowned, stared at the floor and took a deep breath. “Then I’m coming with you. I don’t want him trying any funny business.”

“I’ll come too,” Dopple said from the back of the room. She walked over and shared a smile with the three of us. “I’m rather intrigued by this.”

Mesmer looked somewhat disgruntled by the two mares’ sudden self-invitation but made no effort to dissuade them all the same. “Fine.”

Nothing else was said as we trudged up the stairs towards the rec room. Copper stayed close to me, as if acting as personal protection. Her proximity was admittedly thrilling, especially a few moments where her wings brushed up against me. I imagined her fighting off a horde of hooded ‘bad guys’ with all the flair and style of a martials arts demonstration then swooping back towards me and bowing her head to the ground. “They have been taken care of, my liege.” Her toned, agile-looking body gave the impression that she’d be more than capable of such a feat.

“That’s good,” Mesmer said upon entering, pointing to the small clock ticking away on the mantlepiece above the fireplace. “We can keep an eye on the time here.”

Button had settled for playing the pinball machine by himself while Maribelle watched over his shoulder. The colt was struggling a little though, as the setup appeared a little too big for his scrawny stature. The sounds emanating from the machine were fuzzy and muted, the lights glowing dimly through the glass. He completely ignored us as we came in, possibly too engrossed to even notice us. Maribelle said hello as Mesmer walked to the games cabinet and retrieved a pack of traditional playing cards. He levitated them to the table and sat on the sofa nearest the fireplace, opening the box and inspecting the deck.

I looked back over to the stacks of colorful, more appealing boxes. “Can we not play one of those?” I asked. I’d been at least acquainted with playing cards; I wanted something a little more off the beaten track.

“No,” Mesmer said, pulling a few select cards out and separating them. I sat in the sofa opposite with Copper at my side, Dopple taking a seat next to Mesmer. The sofas were somewhat roomy, offering space for around four or five ponies each. (Or one and a half Yokos)

“Wait!” Button cried, finally returning to reality and noticing us. “You can’t start a game without me! It was my idea!” He abandoned his post at the pinball machine and leapt between me and Copper, (why did you have to do that?) thumping his hooves on the table. “I’m so hungry for a game right now!”

“This is ridiculous,” Mesmer muttered. “The idea was for Greyscale and I to play by ourselves, not for it to be intruded upon. That goes for you mares, too.”

“Uh-huh,” Copper said, sitting forward. “Just wanted to play a friendly little game of snap all by yourselves, completely out of the blue. I totally believe it.”

“I’ll be happy to watch,” Dopple said with a curt nod. I imagined she too was intrigued by Mesmer’s sudden suggestion, wondering what on Equus he could be planning.

“I won’t!” Button exclaimed. “We should all get to play!”

“How about this?” Mesmer said, appearing agitated. “I’ll explain the rules, and the winner of the game will stay on for the next one. Since you’re so excitable, Button, you can be my first opponent.”

“That’s cool,” Button said, grinning to himself. “I just hope you don’t underestimate me.”

“Indeed…” Mesmer turned to me and paused for a moment. “Perhaps you’ll be able to learn something from this.” I sensed an element of excitement, but also trepidation in his voice. “Now, let me start by explaining the basics of playing cards.” He fanned the deck out with his magic, doing so with a precision that I was rather envious of. “You have the four suits: keys, moons, bells and suns, which can also be thought of as the two silvers and the two golds. Each suit has twelve cards, numbers one through ten, the eleventh card, the monarch, and the twelfth card, the goddess.” The pictures on each of the monarchs and goddesses were mostly traditional, but with the face of Monobunny superimposed onto them. “There are also two additional cards known as the fools.” He held them up, two Monobunnies in jester outfits staring back at us. “And they’ll be important for the game in question: Kings and Fools. This is, at its core, a game of immense strategy and pattern-recognition. Play requires ten cards, which includes one monarch and one fool. The rest can be any card of any suit between one and ten.”

“Hold on,” Copper said, pressing her hoof down on the fanned cards. “Drop your magic.”

“What for?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ll remind you that I’m an expert illusionist and know all the cheap cards tricks there are to know. I also know how to play Kings and Fools, and as such, how much of an advantage a player has if any of the cards are marked. So before you go strutting your ego in the name of being a supposed super genius, I’m sure you won’t mind me checking them over? Of course, if I find anything suspicious, it’s going to make you look really pathetic.”

Mesmer dropped his hold, the cards clattering softly against the table. “Do whatever you want,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Pick the cards for all I care.”

Copper carefully examined the backs of certain cards, turning the edges and comparing their corners with others from the deck. The way she handled them looked impossible; she was using her hooves with the precision of a scalpel and riffling through them with tremendous dexterity. After a few minutes she was satisfied that nothing had been done to tamper with them and separated the necessary cards from the others.

“Alright,” said Mesmer. “Now for the rules. Each player starts with five cards in their hand, either the king hand or the fool hand. Cards that are neither the king nor the fool are called citizens. The game consists of twelve rounds, with the players exchanging hands after each three. During a round each player takes it in turn to place one card from their hand face down in front of them. They are then flipped over at the same time. If both cards are citizen cards, neither player has won. A citizen is equal to a citizen, another set of hands are played, with the player who put their card down last now placing theirs first, for their opponent to follow. A king, however, is greater than a citizen, and so if these two cards are revealed the player who placed the king takes the round. Similarly, a citizen is greater than a fool. If these two cards are played then the citizen will take the round. As you may have guessed, there is but one way to defeat the king. You must face him with the fool.”

“I don’t get it,” Button said. “If the fool is worth less than a citizen, how can he be worth more than the king?”

“I was getting to that,” Mesmer said. “It is inadequate to say that the fool is worth more. A citizen would not attack their king for they would know of the consequences.” Mesmer levitated the fool card as if to make a statement. Even through this rather simple-sounding game, something about the way Mesmer framed it gave it an air of significance. He was deadly serious. Beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead, as if he were preparing for something of the utmost importance. He took a small but noticeable breath. “However, a fool would be none the wiser. In a fit of rage, malice or righteous indignation, they would be the most likely one to kill the king. It’s a lesson that many throughout history could have done well to learn, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

“Eh, decent theme, I guess,” Button said. “But couldn’t you have made it more interesting with the goddess card and giving special abilities to some of the citizens?”

“That would go against the game’s strategic element,” Mesmer replied. “Besides, given its context, there is nothing that can defeat a goddess.”

“But it sounds too luck-based,” Button said. “You each take turns at having a huge advantage, who knows when you’re gonna play each card? It’s all up to chance!”

“You think?” Mesmer asked, smirking. “Equines – and all creatures, really – are terrible at being random. We are all prone to patterns, some more than most, and Kings and Fools is an excellent showcase of that fact. It’s an exercise in trying to figure out your opponent while also trying to throw them off your scent. Depending on one’s personal disposition, intuition and skill level, the outcomes of choices can be drastically different. It takes an attuned mind to fully grasp these intricacies.” Mesmer exuded an aura of eager anticipation. “If you don’t believe me, then let’s play, Ultimate Gaming Prodigy.”

“Oh, you are gonna get it!”

“I’ll let you pick which deck you want to start with. Remember, we swap after every three rounds. Whomever has the most points at the twelfth round wins.”

Button nodded. “Okay, I’ve got the rules. I’ll take the king hand first.” Button turned to Copper, and then myself. “You two need to go. I can’t have you reacting to what cards I have and tipping him off!”

At his request, Copper and I had to sit at the far ends, our attention to the center of the table. The hands were dealt, each of them shuffling and then bringing them in close, Button having a harder time due to relying on hooves to hold them in form.

Button placed his card first, doing so delicately. Then Mesmer placed his. Maribelle had volunteered to turn the cards over, and the first draw saw a three and a six – two citizen cards. The next draw, another two citizens. And again. Button appeared to grow tense after each reveal, his eyes never meeting Mesmer’s, his gaze shifting only between his own cards and the table.

I could understand his plight. Wielding the king hand gives the player an immense advantage. If taken by pure chance, the king hand would have an 80% chance of winning in the first play, 75% chance of winning in the second and 66% chance of winning in the third. Button now only had a 50% chance, and if both were to play citizens again, he would have to concede.

Mesmer placed his card first and Button followed, the cards being revealed as the king and the fool. “That was good,” Mesmer said. “You actually had me torn between playing the fool in the fourth or the fifth. This round could’ve gone either way.”

“Save your breath,” Button muttered. “You’re trying to psyche me out with a false compliment.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Mesmer replied.

“Just deal the cards again.”

This time Mesmer placed his first. I could see now that whomever placed their card first was also at a disadvantage, as it gave their opponent an opportunity to gauge their reaction, possibly pick up on whether they’d played their all-important card. But that was easier said than done, especially against someone like Mesmer. But to my shock, the first play was revealed and Mesmer’s fool saw him lose the round.

“Oh, well done, Button!” Maribelle cheered once the cards were turned.

“Not yet,” Button said. “He was just testing me with that one.”

“Interesting you should say that,” Mesmer said.

“Why?”

“It means you are likely predisposed to play in a particular way. Sometimes it’s important not to speak what’s on your mind.” I felt as if this was a direct message to me, both in preparation for our game and the point he had made earlier.

“Hmph.” Button pouted. “I take that back. You’re just saying that stuff to appear all clever. It’s a cheap mind trick, pretty telling for the supposed Ultimate Hypnotist.”

You’re underestimating him, I thought to myself. Button’s attitude was an obvious sign that he wasn’t taking this seriously, that he was far too irrational to even grasp how Mesmer might be beating him. Once that thought dawned on me the game between them seemed to lose its luster. From this point on, Button was noth–

A spark flew through my brain. I tried relaying my previous thought over and over, reminding myself exactly what I had witnessed. There was a chance Button had shown his true colors, that his overly cocky nature was a sign of his undoing. But then, what loss could possibly hurt more than against someone you perceive to be so far below you? Button had seen something in those two plays – understood something.

“You’re trying to psyche me out with a false compliment.”

“Just deal the cards.”

“He was just testing me with that one.”

“I take that back. You’re just saying that stuff to appear all clever.”

Twice he had noted that Mesmer was employing a psychological tactic. On the second occasion, it wasn’t even from something Mesmer said, it was from just a single card being played. Button didn’t even think of it as Mesmer making a poor decision, even though it was the riskiest possible play and had cost him a round. Button was perceptive enough to see something beyond the obvious.

However, twice he had said something you’d expect from a sore loser, or someone losing their cool and venting their frustration, the kinds of things you wouldn’t expect someone with a great sense of perception to say. I had to wonder, was that part of Button’s plan? Mesmer had said the first round could have gone either way. If Button had won, would he have acted differently? By losing the first round, and with the king’s hand no less, the idea that Button might be useless after all would be easier to believe. And so, it was surely advantageous for Button to enforce that idea early on, so that he could lull Mesmer into a false sense of security.

This was all mere speculation, of course. I could have also been watching a disgruntled colt and a big-headed, overconfident stallion throw out cards randomly and act as if the results were somehow significant. But my instinct told me that there was something more, some underlying battle of wits outside of the game itself. The Ultimate Gaming Prodigy was smarter and more adept at strategy than he looked, and Mesmer had realized this and was fighting back.

Button won the next round and the two remained quiet, the teenage colt no longer demonstrating any kind of cocky bravado. Switching hands, Mesmer took the first round, playing the king on his first hand, and then again in the second. Button was agitated, but appeared to be holding it in. Sealing his own doom by playing the fool on the third hand, the scores were now ever so slightly in Mesmer’s favor. Button would need to win all three rounds as the king in order to have a decent chance of coming out on top.

Each player was taking longer between hands to place their chosen card. Even Maribelle had become muted, acting more like a professional dealer than Button’s personal cheerleader. The tension exuding from the two competitors was almost contagious. This was the kind of game I could imagine foals playing in the attic, laughing and joking, trading bottle caps as impromptu currency and battling with their limited wits. It was so simple and easy to learn that it bordered on absurdity. But all a game needed to become a serious matter was for those involved to believe it to be a serious matter. Then it could mean everything. That game could become your livelihood, everything you want to strive for. Sumo was just a game where you pushed the other guy out of a circle, after all. To think that it could become something so significant said a lot about the equine race. And myself. I had never even considered such things to be a way of life. In fact, I had never considered much at all about anything. I had lacked the jump-start, the spark, the first toppled domino to lead into the rest of my existence. I’d barely even thought about these things. But now, in a house full of strangers, watching two ponies play a simplistic game of cards like their lives depended on it, I felt the inward pull of a void, as if I might collapse in on myself like a black hole. This, I concluded, as I grasped the arm of the sofa and pulled my body in tight, was what happened when you grew up twenty years too late.

“Tch!”

Button had lost one of his rounds with the king, Mesmer correctly predicting its use in the fifth and final hand, a parade of four citizen pairs being played and Button having to concede. This meant he needed at least two wins with the fool hand just to break even, with three wins to come out on top. The odds were truly stacked against him.

“Wait a second,” Button said, holding up a hoof. He propped up his chin and stared at a spot on the table, his jaw twitching like he was trying to quietly munch through a lump of spinach.

I’m next I realized. This is what Mesmer wanted from me. What I wanted was to impress him, to surprise him, to show that I couldn’t be so easily figured out. But I knew I would fail. This test – if that was Mesmer’s intention – was a waste of time. I would have to be a fool to think I could outsmart him. A ‘fool,’ huh? How ironic. I could discern that complex mind-games were a part of the game, but not what those mind-games actually were. What was the significance of playing the trump card in the first round? In the second? In the last? I didn’t know. I just knew that somehow, these decisions could be predicted and read given enough perceptive ability.

From what I could fathom, the onus of winning was more so on the side of the king hand, since you would have the greatest chance of winning each round. Statistically, the best chance, assuming the opponent played randomly, would be to play the king in either the first or last hands. Either you’d win in an instant with the opponent more likely to play a citizen, or save the king and allow the opponent four chances of playing the fool and causing their own demise. But Mesmer wouldn’t play randomly. If he figured out that this was my strategy, he could just alternate between playing the fool first or last, netting a few wins in the process.

I tried to remember the series of moves that Mesmer had made but failed to see a particular pattern. I knew it was possible that he could read Button’s reactions upon placing down a card, perhaps an involuntary tic, eye movement or adjusted breathing, but there were also many rounds he won while placing the card first. In that case, he would’ve had no opportunity to switch his option depending on Button’s behavior. He had to have figured out – based on prediction – which card Button would play. Unless it was all just luck, but I doubted that. As for reading Mesmer? I had no chance in hell.

“That was good,” Mesmer said.

I looked up, broken from my reverie, shocked at what I was hearing. I had missed the final three rounds and thought maybe Button had won a miraculous victory after all, but that wasn’t the case. Mesmer had won all three and attained a final score of 8 – 4.

Button raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Way to rub it in.”

“No, really,” Mesmer continued. “You threw me off a few times. I wasn’t always completely sure what you were planning. I’ve won plenty of games with a ten two or a nine three, so you shouldn’t be discouraged. With a bit of practice you might even be a contender.”

“Be honest,” Button said, raising a hoof towards him. “Were you cheating? Could you see my cards somehow? Were you keeping track of them with magic or getting someone here to tip you off?”

“Absolutely not,” Mesmer answered coolly. “I’m rather disappointed that you would ask such a thing, if I’m being honest.”

“Whatever,” Button said, rolling his eyes. “Playing you in this game was a stupid idea anyway. How would you feel if I challenged you to a bunch of video games that I’ve had hours and hours of practice with? It wouldn’t exactly be fair, would it?”

“No, not really,” Mesmer answered. “I’ve gambled a lot playing this game and have won considerable amounts of money. Very, very rarely do I suffer anything worse than a draw. I am, much like you with your video games, an experienced, frankly overpowering opponent. But then you’re not the one I challenged.” Mesmer’s eyes briefly flicked in my direction. “I only played against you because you were so adamant about joining us.”

“And you want play against Greyscale!?” Button gawped. “What are you expecting!?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I intend to find out.”

“This is insane,” Copper muttered, shaking her head. “How are we supposed to believe that this isn’t just bullying? And you list your gambling exploits as if we should think highly of you. Get a load of yourself, you self-absorbed, big-headed buffoon!” She turned to me. “Greyscale, you don’t have to deal with this clown. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I don’t like it.”

“No,” I said simply. “I want to play against him. Even if he wins twelve rounds straight, I still want to do it.”

Copper closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose as if attempting to find peace. “Okay. I don’t want to force you around either. But if he gives you crap, you don’t have to take it.”

“I won’t,” Mesmer said, gathering the cards and shuffling them. “So, shall we begin?”

“Hold on a minute,” I said. “I need to figure something out.”

“Take your time.”

I closed my eyes. Now what? I thought. Whatever expectations Mesmer had for me, there was no way I could live up to them. I had no experience in these kinds of competitive strategy games, none whatsoever. But I wanted to impress him. I wanted to be good, somehow. To be better than a nobody. And to do that, I realized, wouldn’t require beating him. But even then, I had no idea how. The layers of the game were too deep, and I was swimming blind.

If it was random, if it was random… I repeated these words over and over to myself. By pure chance, a 6 – 6 outcome would be common. A 7 – 5 would happen occasionally. An 8 – 4 would be significantly less likely, and a 9 – 3 or beyond would be downright rare. Button had lost 4 – 8 and yet Mesmer had considered him an impressive opponent. That alone was a testament to Mesmer’s skill and confidence in a game with a great degree of chance involved. So to impress him, to match Button or perhaps surpass him, playing randomly would be my chance.

“Equines – and all creatures, really – are terrible at being random. We are all prone to patterns, some more than most.”

Mesmer was right. To be truly random was to become an automaton, to become unliving. No matter how much I might try to choose a card without thought, it was impossible. That was, unless… I did it quite literally. So long as the five cards were shuffled and placed face-down, I could simply place the top card in the center. That would be as close to random as possible. The one thing it wouldn’t do, is impress Mesmer. Win or lose, it would show Mesmer, loud and clear, that I wasn’t willing to face him on an intellectual level. Either that, or I didn’t want to take the game seriously, which would probably be seen as an insult. So then, there was another option. I could pick up the five cards and simply play them in sequence. But it took all of two seconds for me to realize how stupid an idea this was. Mesmer would realize this extremely quickly and the same result would occur. Even if I tried picking in different orders each round from front to back, back to front, middle first and then either side, I had no doubt Mesmer would pick up on it.

Time was ticking – literally. I could hear the steady tick, tock of the clock on the mantlepiece through the blackness of my closed eyes, counting down my chance to even make a single move. I couldn’t stay here forever. I needed something, a spark to help me achieve my goal. If I were to play randomly, it would mean Mesmer would figure it out. His entire focus would be on reading my face as I placed down each card. My attempt at beating him would be feeble. But to try and outsmart him was useless. I was stuck in a futile loop.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

I considered conceding. I knew this was just some card game, that it didn’t mean anything, but it meant something to Mesmer, so it had to mean something more. I wanted to find out what that was. I needed an idea, a game-plan, something that not even Mesmer would be able to–

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

I opened my eyes. I had it. All I had to do now was stay calm. I needed to remind myself that every card was as important as the other. King, fool, citizen… All were equal. All could mean the difference between winning and losing. And I didn’t care about winning. I couldn’t. That was my one chance to prove something to Mesmer.

My heart was going crazy. That same excitement I felt from the trial was back. And once again, the same stallion stood in my way. The mysterious, maroon-coated unicorn with an iron will and a fiery tongue.

Mesmer.

“Button? If you wouldn’t mind,” I said, taking his spot. “I don’t want anyone talking or commenting on the game as it’s played,” I said. “I don’t want any distractions.”

Mesmer grinned. “I like what I’m hearing,” he said. “Do you have any preference on which deck to start with?”

“King,” I said confidently.

“Excellent.”

“Wow,” Button said. “You look intense. I hope you beat him.”

That’s not the point, I said inwardly. “Please be quiet.”

The cards were shuffled and dealt. I picked them up, finding it difficult to form an equally spaced fan with my hooves. I looked opposite and saw Mesmer scanning his cards. In that moment, I somehow knew that I could make it work. I was the first to put down a card – a citizen. Just as meaningful as the king, just as meaningful as the king, I reminded myself. Mesmer put down one in kind and the game truly began.

Maribelle revealed the cards. Two citizens. I had lost the chance to take the round. I steadied my breathing. I needed to temper my expectations. Next card. Next card. Without a word, the next hand was played. The same result. I had lost another chance. It doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. I had to be sure in my strategy. I had to think of nothing else. Win or lose, I don’t care. Win or lose, I don’t care.

The next hand, my king beat Mesmer’s citizen. It meant nothing. My plan had only just begun. The cards were shuffled again and Mesmer placed his first. I chose the king straight after and took round two in an instant. That doesn’t mean the plan is working. Keep going.

The next round ended in victory as Mesmer played his fool in the third hand. The score at three to nothing, Mesmer took the king hand and fired back with three wins of his own, his king coming out in the second hand of the third round and then not appearing in the following rounds, my play of the fool ending my chances without his input. We were neck-and-neck. And it just might have been the best possible outcome. I couldn’t read Mesmer’s mind, nor his movements, but part of me believed he was coming to a conclusion, a theory about my playstyle that he would base his actions on. And unless he had truly figured it out, any belief that he had would only swing in my favor.

Win or lose, I don’t care. Win or lose, I don’t care.

My vision blurred. I felt both light and heavy, a two-ton anvil floating merrily in a vacuum. But this was all my own doing. I reached deep inside myself to lose grip on reality, my mind on another plane. I was on the outside looking in, a hapless viewer through the cameras that peppered the dome. Someone was laughing in the darkness beside me, their attention drawn to a mysterious figure crawling along one of the hallways. I kept repeating a number over and over again. It was the most important thing of all.

My breathing was becoming intrusive. It reminded me too much of where I was, what I was doing. After the next round, I told myself.

I’d gained my first loss with the king hand, Mesmer and I playing citizens for the first four hands in rhythmic succession. Once that was done, I fell even deeper. I was back in my old apartment, flopping cards onto the floor with nothing but the cold, grey sky pouring in from the windows as company.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

I now had a clock in my apartment. That was new. It broke the silence merrily.

King in the first hand. Mesmer played–

Doesn’t matter. Next.

Mesmer lost the next round, playing the fool in the second hand. I’m back outside the dome, looking in. “Look at these fools!” I hear someone say. “They’re like rats in a trap!”

“Greyscale?”

Now Maribelle is talking to me. Grip on reality slipped a little too much.I take the cards and steady my breathing. I’m almost there.

I play the fool in the fourth hand.

Next.

Mesmer plays the king in the third.

NEXT!

I put down my chosen card and waited for Mesmer to respond. At the very moment his card touched the table, Dopple spoke up.

“You’ve just lost.”

At first I thought she was talking to me, but Mesmer turned to her, shocked, and turned the cards over himself. The second hand of the final round. My fool had beaten Mesmer’s king. The stallion stared at the cards for a few seconds, entranced. Then he raised his head and stared at me with an almost longing gaze.

Back to reality. All it took was a little push.

“Are you kidding me!?” Button exclaimed, placing his hooves on the table and leaning over the cards, gawking over them as if they were a newly discovered species of insect. “Seven five!? The nobody actually won!?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I stared at Mesmer for a moment, then back to the cards, then back to him. The plan had been a success beyond my wildest dreams.

“How did you do it?” Mesmer asked, sounding ever so slightly shaken.

I looked around awkwardly for a moment. Everyone’s eyes were on me. I was almost ready to play another hand, my mind set on the next move. But I couldn’t expose everything. That would ruin the fun of it. I could, however, reveal a certain part of my tactic, a somewhat philosophical take on the game that actually held some truth.

“The citizens are just as important as the kings and the fools,” I said, turning to Mesmer. “Once I figured that out, I knew what I had to do.” In that instant, I felt more important than I ever had in my life. I had just overcome an insurmountable obstacle. Out of nowhere, tears began to pool around my eyes. I rubbed at them reflexively, only for more tears to take their place. “Sorry,” I said, clenching my eyelids and holding a hoof to my temple in an effort to pull myself together.

“There’s no need to cry,” Button chided. I could hear him but not see him. “Well this got real awkward real fast. Maribelle, let’s go. I’m not even convinced this game was a test of strategy after all.”

I was still shaking when they left. I cried further still, almost like a reflex action, no thought able to break through my embarrassing display. I felt like a rusty machine springing to life at the flick of a switch, uncontrollably, instinctively. In all my memories I couldn’t think of a single other time like this. And yet, all I had done was won a game of cards. I was reminded of just how broken I truly was.

“Greyscale,” Mesmer said. “That was impressive. I thought I had figured you out, but you proved me wrong.”

“Thanks,” I replied, regaining control of my breathing. “I did my best.”

“The question is, how did you know I was going to lose?” Mesmer said, glaring at Dopple. “Had you figured out his strategy? Or did you read him well enough to see it coming?”

Dopple shrugged. “He had the same strategy from the very beginning. Isn’t that right, Greyscale?”

I stared at her, bewildered. It was inconceivable to me that anyone could have figured it out. “Yeah.”

Dopple smiled. “I realized it after the third round. It was very clever.”

“There’s no way,” I replied, my mouth outrunning my mind.

“You think so?” Dopple asked, tilting her head. “Here, I’ll prove it to you.” She leaned over and whispered two little words into my ear. My jaw dropped. She brought her head back and raised her eyebrows with a mischievous grin as if to say, “I told you so.”

Mesmer’s words came back in a flash. “The truth is, Dopple might just be the greatest asset we have in this place. She is, if I’m right about this, the most intelligent one among all of us.” In that moment I believed it without a shred of doubt.

Mesmer snorted annoyedly and plodded towards the door. “What does it matter? We should be putting our minds towards more pressing issues than card games. Don’t sail on your supposed victories for too long.”

“Sore loser,” Copper said, laughing sardonically.

As Mesmer left, I wondered what he meant, wondered why he had been so adamant in bringing me here and proposing a card game, wondered why he treated it with so much weight only to then act as if it was meaningless. I supposed Copper could be right, that he was just being a sore loser. However, a tiny voice in the back of my mind wasn’t convinced. It said this was all deliberate, all part of Mesmer’s grand plan. He had wanted something from this, and I could feel that even though he had lost the game, he had gained something else, something far more important. That this was the start of something far bigger than myself. Bigger than I could ever imagine. But there was no evidence and no possible reason to support that idea, and it slipped out of my mind in an instant. Now I was back to reveling in Dopple’s uncanny level of perception.

While trying to come up with a method to use against Mesmer, I had one prominent thought in my mind: my best chance was random chance. By sheer probability alone, a random number set would be unlikely to result in a crushing defeat. Not to mention, a random sequence has no pattern, even if it appears to. It had the potential of confusing Mesmer and even convincing him of a higher form of tactic even if it didn’t result in a win. It just might make him feel as if he only won by chance, which would’ve been unsatisfying.

The problem was how to do such a thing. I knew that if given the opportunity to produce a random sequence, say, a string of numbers between one and five, I could never trust myself to do it. Nobody could. Equines are predisposed to see patterns where there are none and to expect outcomes based on an instinctive feeling of potential likelihood, of a pattern being followed or broken, even previous occurrences having no bearing on what follows. If you flip a coin five times in a row and it lands heads each time it somehow feels more likely for the next flip to be tails, even if the result is still 50/50, simply on the basis that six heads in a row is unlikely. With numbers one to five, trying to produce a random pattern would instinctively lead one to feel that one of the numbers had been “left out” or that a certain number had been repeated too often, even if it was perfectly plausible for such things to happen through random chance. I almost gave up on the idea completely until I realized something while listening attentively with my eyes clamped shut. I heard something vital, something that could replicate randomness as closely as possible, something that Dopple had figured out and had relayed to me with just two simple words.

“Tick, tock.”

The clock on the mantlepiece. The second hand ticked away, completing a full rotation in sixty tiny movements. Sixty notches, but there was a way of translating that into the exact number I needed. The numbers one through twelve marked its face. Twelve sets of five notches. Five. The plan was simple: the moment we picked up our cards was the moment I struck. For the brief second Mesmer was focused on his cards I glanced across to the clock and made a mental note of the second hand’s position at the very next tick. If it landed perfectly on one of the twelve face numbers, that meant the number five. If it was one notch after it, that was a one. Same for two, three and four. And so, I had my chosen time to play my unique card – whether it was the king or the fool – during that round.

The other obstacle was being predictable based on my expressions made during each turn. Although I would only be placing my card down first fifty percent of the time, that still left half the game in which to jeopardize my strategy. This was arguably the riskiest aspect of my entire plan. I had to drift as far as I could from reality while still retaining my grasp on that important number at which to play the corresponding card, and without revealing that number by accident through mumbling it. I needed something beyond a dreamlike state, a realization that wouldn’t cause me to become agitated or excited more while playing the fool or king as opposed to the citizens. Then it struck me as I considered just how each round was won: playing a citizen was just as important and held just as much weight as playing any other card.

My plan wasn’t perfect; I knew that. I wasn’t trying to win. It was only through pure luck, through the closest form of randomness that I could apply through which I did win. But it was enough for Mesmer to think more highly of me, and that victory was more than par for the course. I had no idea for anything else beyond that. It was the best I could come up with and the best I felt I could ever come up with. Which is why when Dopple revealed she had figured it out after three measly rounds I was hit with a mixture of awe, reverence and disappointment. I could see then how someone like Dopple could test even Mesmer, as if she were on another plane of existence, viewing the world as no-one else did.

“But she’s just an impersonator!”

“And you’re just a nobody.”

I felt powerless and small but also enraptured. I wanted to know more about her, more desperately than ever before, even if I had no chance of understanding it. She would make for a good friend, or maybe…

“What are we even doing?” Copper muttered, shaking her head. “Grey, I’ll be honest. I know Kings and Fools. I’ve never heard anyone claim it to be some highly strategic game or test of intelligence; it’s just some gambling thing. Mesmer’s the real fool for being delusional enough to think it’s anything more. I bet he made up all that stuff about his win record just to look good. Don’t know why you look up to that guy when he’s just taking advantage of you.”

“I understand why you’d think that,” Dopple said, “but I would disagree. If you were a little more friendly towards Mesmer then you might see a different side of him.”

“Didn’t ask for your opinion,” Copper said bitingly. “And you’re not much better, either.”

“Copper,” I said, becoming increasingly distressed as I watched the two mares bicker. Families shouldn’t fight! “Fam… I mean, I don’t want you fighting.”

“I know that,” Copper replied with a pained expression. “But I also don’t like playing pretend and buddying up to someone I don’t trust.”

“I don’t trust you either,” Dopple said plainly. “But I at least think you deserve a modicum of respect.”

“Fake niceness,” Copper said, waving a hoof. She turned to me. “Grey, this is what I’m trying to tell you. You’re going to get killed if you keep following everyone blindly like a puppy.”

“It’s not fake,” Dopple said, a hint of frustration seeping into her voice. She sighed, continuing with calm reverence. “If it’ll help you be just a littlemore trusting, let’s play Kings and Fools.”

Copper rolled her eyes. “And how will that help?”

“It’ll show you that Mesmer wasn’t making everything up. I’ll play you now and beat you. I’ll demonstrate just how far the strategic element of the game goes, and you can decide for yourself if Mesmer was just being delusional.”

“And what about you?” Copper asked. “How will it make me trust you any more?”

“It won’t,” came the curt reply. “But it’ll be a start towards us getting along. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Greyscale?”

I froze for a moment as the two mares looked at me expectantly, hanging on my word. As if I were the central cog in a grand machine. “Y-yeah,” I uttered. I had a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that sprang forth and encompassed my entire realm of thought. I barely even registered the response I got – just a stream of sounds as Dopple and Copper spoke some more, first to me, then to each other. Just noise. I was slipping from reality again, but this time I reveled in it, allowed it, like I was a passing observer in a gallery and all around me was just the contents of an unfinished painting.

I had already asked Monobunny whether the dome was made for me – a heaven for a lost soul who had no hope. He had told me no. He had told me I was being conceited for thinking such a thing, as if anyone would ever do anything for a nobody like me. He was the paragon of honesty, never telling a lie. That much made sense. But with each passing moment I found myself drifting closer and closer towards nirvana. First it was the thrill of the trial. Next it was being one of the group, part of the family. Important ponies. Important friends. Lov–

I looked over as Dopple and Copper played the last card in each of their hands and turned them over. Dopple had won with a king against Copper’s citizen. I smiled for a moment, impressed that Dopple had guessed correctly on her first round, and on the final hand, no doubt. Then I realized something was off. It was impossible for a final hand to contain a king and a citizen, as by that point the fool would have to be played. The other four hands would have to have been double citizens. Not only that, but it was Copper who had chosen the king hand, not Dopple. I stared at the table, trying to make sense of it all, when Copper spoke up.

“How did you know? Nobody could have seen me change it!”

“I didn’t,” Dopple said. “I just thought you might have tried something like that.”

Copper’s eyes narrowed. “I never saw you conceal it. How did you do it?”

“I didn’t conceal it, I merely made another king hand while I was shuffling through the cards.”

“Excuse me,” I said, sliding closer to the two. “What just happened? How do you have those cards?”

“I made a switch,” Copper said, extending her left wing. I almost though for a second she was going to wrap it around me and my heart jolted, but instead she slipped her right hoof through a line of feathers and pulled out a card – the king.

“You cheated!?” I exclaimed.

“Not exactly,” Copper replied. “I wasn’t taking this game seriously in the first place and I was fully expecting to be found out. I switched out my king for a citizen, that way I’d win no matter what point Dopple played the fool. But apparently Dopple reacted in kind and switched her fool for a king.” Her face tensed up a little. “I was trying to be clever and forfeit the game in a creative way, just to throw her off. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting her to do the same.”

“I knew you wouldn’t enjoy the game,” Dopple said. “I thought maybe you’d like it more if I surprised you.”

“I can’t say I liked it,” Copper replied, leaning back into the sofa and running a hoof through her jade-colored mane. “Kind of impressive though. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna trust you over it.” She sighed. “You really didn’t see me conceal the card?”

Dopple shook her head.

“Good. Fine.” Copper took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “There’s not much that scares me more than the thought of losing my touch, ridiculous as that might sound given our situation.”

“That’s amazing though,” I said. “You switched the cards right in front of us and we didn’t even notice.”

Copper smiled at that, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I’ve had a lot of practice. I first dabbled in illusionism when I was five, learned my first card trick from my grandfather.” Copper began absentmindedly pulling some cards from the deck and fanning them out on the table, flipping them over and shuffling them with near-mechanical precision. “It’s a strange craft when you think about it, non-unicorns performing ‘magic,’ so to speak. I guess some ponies saw magic shows as rather pointless since it’s just a display of raw power, not to mention the truly accomplished magic users come under fire for using their magic in the way they do.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Picture this: you go and see some unicorn turning kittens into kettles or growing strawberries ten times their normal size. A round of applause and all that. But think about it, if they’re able to grow food like that or perform such reality-bending feats, shouldn’t they be putting their powers to a better use? A farm runs to produce enough food for a village and beyond, so what if they have a bad harvest? What if that unicorn could’ve prevented someone from going hungry? And magic has so many applications that’d be just one of a thousand possible uses.

“Let’s say for example Dr. Scalpel used her skills with a knife on a prosthetic body and put on a stage-show. I’m sure she’d be pretty impressive and show her extensive knowledge, but wouldn’t you ask yourself why she wasn’t going and saving lives if she’s so capable? Even if it’s not completely true – you might just be making assumptions about the unicorn’s abilities – it’s a common thought to be held.

“That’s not all, though. When you see a unicorn do something amazing with magic there’s no mystery behind it. Even if you’re a non-magic user and have no idea about the process of casting spells – like us – it’s easy to come to the understanding that magic comes straight from natural ability, not from being smart or creative. Kind of like how a dog or a cat might not know how an engine works or how a house is built, but be completely unfazed by them. Then for unicorns it’s more just an appreciation of the fruits of their work rather than the work they put in, since it’s all just for the sheer spectacle.

“Illusionism, however, is an entirely different beast.” Copper flipped over the cards she’d been shuffling and riffling, splaying them out to show them all in numerical and suit order. “The amazement comes from not knowing what just happened. The performer isn’t showing off some skill that you can quantify or simply assume to be natural. They’re doing something you can’t even begin to explain. Of course, if your audience isn’t well versed in such things that can be easy, but the real test is in outsmarting or outmaneuvering the more adept and attentive. Fooling the king, if you will. And as more and more techniques become widespread, that only gets harder. Some get by with just taking the works of others, practicing and practicing them, but the real cuts come when the illusionist has to create their own tricks. They have to go one step beyond.

“There’s a few different levels for this. You both realize by now that I concealed a card in my wing. I could’ve concealed it in clothing if I was wearing anything, and that would’ve probably been easier. Moving your hoof to your wing is already a suspicious maneuver that someone might notice, unless you’ve had the extensive training. Difficult, but doable.” Copper pressed the fanned cards into a pile and flipped them over. “But then how do you explain this?” She turned the cards over and fanned them out once more to reveal that the card pattern was faceup, facedown, faceup, facedown, from one end to the other. “I couldn’t have put the cards in my wings and shuffled them around, all I have are my hooves, which are ill-suited to this task. But still, look at what I did.”

“That’s incredible!” I balked.

“Perhaps,” Copper said, flicking the cards across the table and leaning back. “But that trick took me almost a year to fully master. You want to know how I did it?”

I nodded feverishly. Dopple nodded once in agreement.

“I started by conceiving an impossible task. Then I worked and worked, thought and thought, agonized over failed attempts and lay awake in the night, desperately whirring through ideas until finally, one day, I figured out a way to make this impossible task a reality. Not just in concept, but in practice. That’s what illusionism is all about, in the end. Take something that nobody thought possible and then make it happen. It’s what I lived for.” Copper’s expression grew taut. I couldn’t help but notice she had said ‘lived’, not ‘live.’

“And it’s not just card tricks,” she continued. “There’s all sorts of other illusions ranging from those with everyday objects magically disappearing to more elaborate tricks that warp one’s perception of reality entirely. But those generally require a lot of setup and custom-built apparatus, so nothing here would do, not unless I spent a few days setting it all up, and what’s the point in that? That’s the shame of it all, really. Once you know how it works it doesn’t seem so clever. Then it ends up just like the regular magic shows; it’s nothing but a test of natural ability. My dream has always been to create something that goes beyond that, a trick that leaves you in awe even if you know how it’s done and no matter how many times you witness it.” Copper closed her eyes. “I dream of creating the Ultimate Illusion.” She opened them again and snorted. “Fat chance of that happening in this place.”

I didn’t know what to say. Copper had a moment to herself and looked up at me with an expression of longing. Not for me (I assumed) but for something better. I couldn’t relate, but I could understand somewhat.

“Copper,” Dopple said, leaning slightly across the table towards her. “There always is a chance, however remote. Who knows? Your Ultimate Illusion could be our ticket out of here.”

Copper’s face dropped like a fallen hammer. “As much as my profession deals with tempting the impossible, you get to learn really soon what resides on the mere outskirts of possibility…” Copper’s face relaxed, “and those which are completely outside the realms of possibility. Consider me unhopeful.” She got up and walked past me, towards the door. “I want some time alone,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “And from the looks of it, you two feel the same way. I’ll leave you to it, but I’ll be keeping an eye out. If one of you were to die, I’d know who was culpable.” She gave Dopple a piercing glance and left.

Her exit felt unnatural, almost forced. She’d been adamant about protecting me but was now leaving me within hoof’s reach of someone she didn’t trust. But perhaps, I considered, she believed that her threat was enough to deter Dopple from attacking me. Not that I was at all worried, but I had to wonder if this was a wise decision from Copper’s perspective. If Dopple was smart enough, she could murder me in an unconventional way and deny all of Copper’s accusations, maybe even turning them back on her. Regardless, I didn’t think Copper left for no reason, nor that she was being careless. Now that I thought about it, it wasn’t Dopple who she’d been most suspicious of. My brain churned with ideas until I realized I’d been sat in silence, staring at the door for almost a minute.

“I think you’ve missed your chance,” Dopple said.

“Huh?”

“You wanted to go with her, I presume.” Dopple relaxed and stared at the cards on the table, her lips pursed. “I can understand why. She’s an impressive individual, and she’s rather beautiful.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “Are you saying you...?”

“No, no,” Dopple said, chuckling. “I’m not interested in mares, if that’s what you’re thinking. I meant from your perspective.”

“Oh.” I could feel my cheeks heat up as I shrank away. She wasn’t wrong; Copper was a delight to the eyes and a point of interest. But though I could not say it aloud, I was more interested in someone else in that moment: the one who had discovered my strategy in Kings and Fools. The mare who Mesmer believed was the most intelligent of all of us. “Well… she’s nice to me,” I eventually responded with. “But, um, I don’t think I need to go after her. She’d have asked me along if she wanted me to follow her.”

“I guess you’re right,” Dopple replied. “But that leaves you here. Were you waiting to play cards with me?”

“No, that’s not it,” I said. “I was just curious how you figured me out.”

“It’s not something I can really express,” Dopple said. “I noticed you glancing at the clock and I considered that’s what you were doing. After the next round I had confirmed it.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Not really, though it might seem that way.” Dopple looked off to one side and back again. “Was that all?”

“Well, no,” I said. “I wanted to check if I’d offended you earlier. I was rude to you, and… you flew off. Monobunny was mean to me and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that?” Dopple chortled softly. “I just needed an excuse to get away from Mesmer, and the one place he can’t follow me is the roof. I’m the one who should be sorry for making you worry.”

“Oh, alright. I’m glad.” Her answer made sense at first, but then I realized something. “But if you were trying to get away from Mesmer, why did you follow us here? You didn’t have to come. In fact, Mesmer didn’t want you to come.”

Dopple’s smile disappeared and she stared at me forlornly. She looked somewhat embarrassed, even. “You really do catch on quick, don’t you?”

“Well, I was just wondering, that’s all,” I said worriedly, feeling intimidated all of a sudden. “It doesn’t, um, make complete sense to me.”

“I came here for the exact same reason Mesmer did,” she replied succinctly.

“Just to play a game?” I asked.

“Not quite. I guess you could say I was… testing someone.”

“Who? And for what?”

“I can’t say,” she replied, smiling again. “Greyscale, you’re very good at noticing certain things and figuring out inconsistencies, but I’m not so sure you understand the motivation of others all that well. That’s okay, of course. I couldn’t possibly expect that from you, and I mean no offence. I just hope that…” Dopple paused for a moment, as if readying herself. “I just hope your own motivation makes sense to you. This is a dangerous place. Just about anything could happen.”

My brain drew a blank. Once again, it felt like Dopple was on some other level, completely out of reach. Her words went in but their meaning was lost. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good, but what is it that you want?”

To break the stare-down I spoke my mind. “I… guess I want to know more about you.”

This seemed to take her off guard and she twitched slightly. “But that’s not a very interesting subject.”

“It is to me. You’re just, really smart, is all. I don’t understand you, if I’m honest.”

Dopple sighed deeply. “I see.” She got up and walked to the window, staring out at the fake, painted-on sky that coated the dome’s interior. “It’s not something I’ve ever talked about. I don’t like looking back on my past.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “I promise to tell you, but first, I want you to tell me about yourself.”

“But there’s nothing to tell,” I said, trying to hide my fear at such a prospect. “I’m nothing special.”

“Then I have nothing to tell,” Dopple replied coldly. “We’re equal.”

“That’s not fair!” I cried. Upon saying it I wish I hadn’t; I sounded like an unruly infant. “I’m the Ultimate Nobody, remember?”

“So you feel the same way as I do,” Dopple said stonily, walking past the table. “You want to flee from your past. You want to pretend as if it never happened, correct?”

I could only shrug guiltily in response.

“As I suspected.” Dopple sighed and moved towards the door. “Greyscale, tomorrow I’m going to be making another tour of the dome, looking for a way out. I really mean to do it, to escape from here, and there’s a chance I could use your help. If you’re willing to join me and tell me about your past, I’ll talk about mine. That’s the sort of thing friends are willing to do.” Dopple exhaled sharply through her nose and shook her head. “I apologize. After lecturing you about finding your own motivation, I find myself questioning my own. You bring out the strangest things in others. I have to wonder if that’s a blessing or a curse. I’ll be seeing you.”

With a pained smile she left, leaving me alone in a room that seemed far bigger than it ever had before.

I was stuck in place, frozen solid. The ticking of the clock was loud and abrasive amidst the silence. Even my own breathing was becoming a distraction as I was transported back to my old apartment, the walls growing drab and decayed. My heart thundered in my ears and I clenched my eyelids, nothing but the ticking and the breathing and the thud of my heart. A sudden irrational fear came over me and I thought – for just one fleeting moment of utter madness – that I was alone in the dome and the others had been wiped from existence. My stomach lurched and I opened my eyes to find myself grasping determinedly at the fabric of the sofa, as if trying to break free.

This is crazy.

I relayed Dopple’s words over and over again. “Motivation.” That was a word she made very clear. What was everyone’s motivation? Then, I reconstructed the events I’d just witnessed. I’d been invited by Mesmer to play a game. Dopple, Copper, Button and Maribelle came along. What were their motivations? I didn’t know. Button left after one game. Maribelle went with him. Mesmer left after one game with me. Copper left after a magic trick. Dopple left barely two minutes after that. I looked at the clock. All that had happened in less than half an hour. Act one, enter scene, exit stage left.

Why?

If Dopple and I had just sat for a while, shared stories, or we’d gone somewhere else, I might not have even given it a second thought. But now as I thought about it, I was overcome with paranoia. This dome wasn’t made for my benefit. I wasn’t the centre of the world. There was no reason to treat me with any kind of reverence.

But then why!?

I couldn’t possibly understand what everyone else was thinking. It had never been expected of me. I was always on the outskirts of society, of existence. I had five senses, yet everyone around me had six. I just never realized it. I could feel the others – Yoko, Dopple, Mesmer, Copper, Sanscript, Lancet, Inky – all crying out to me, screaming. The things that had happened that defied understanding, the things that were said that brought nothing but ambiguity and confusion, they had to mean something, I could feel it behind the veil…

But I lacked the sense to quantify it. I was nothing but a blind stallion staring into the sun. And if I couldn’t even perceive such a thing, what reason was there to even consider it? Monobunny’s honesty was a comforting constant, as was the attention I got from others. Even if I struggled to discern their motivation, what difference did it make? It didn’t.

This was the lie that I told myself, the lie that I almost believed. It was the little voice at the back of my mind – the voice that I shouted down – that just barely saved me from insanity.

And in its place was born a different breed of madness.

For I was both a king and a fool.

Author's Note

I'm sure nothing important happened in this chapter. It was just a little card game, that's all.