Chapter 1
Community. Identity. Stability. These are the foundations of the World State, and the center point in which the established caste system can work effectively, without interruptions.
The World State: the perfect utopia. No one would ever dare go against its ideals; they have no reason to. The government has specific roles for every member of the society, through the use of Bokanovsky’s Process; the process that maintains the foundations of the World State.
The ranks of the society are divided into five different groups: Alphas, Betas, Gammas, Deltas, and Epsilons. Alphas, as the name suggests, are the supposed “upper class”, while each group works its way down to the Epsilons, the ones that perform basic tasks, such as manual labor and janitorial duties.
Each rank in this caste system is determined by Bokanovsky’s Process. By putting the cells of a fertilized egg through eight minutes of X-rays, the egg will either split and form twins, or die off. This process, similar to reproduction by budding, can yield anywhere from eight, to ninety-six embryos, each one identical to the first. By dosing these eggs cells near-to-death with alcohol, one can lower the intelligence of the soon-to-be full grown human to their liking.
Alpha cells, being the highest members of society, are left alone, while the Beta caste and lower are subjected to increasingly intense dosages of alcohol, with Epsilons receiving the most.
And this, my friend, is where you come in. You are an Alpha Double-Plus; the highest rank of the highest rank. The year 449 A.F. “After Ford,” the man who first created the concept of the assembly line and mass production.
You are one of the ten World Controllers, the leaders of the World State.
You are Anonymous.
Nobody would dare challenge your authority; all are grateful to you and the rest of your nine colleagues for your unquestionable leadership and knowledge. And they should be, for you have created the answer to all of their sadness and troubles; the substance known only as “soma”. One dosage of soma, and all of your problems are gone. This is how your utopia has survived the past hundreds of years.
Community, Identity, and Stability.
“Reroute the power! Go now!”
Well, this is quite the situation that you’ve gotten yourself into. It started when one of the World Controllers informed you of the supply of soma running low on Earth. The ten of you immediately agreed that a search for a new, more efficient method for harvesting ingredients would be the only viable option. The resources on Earth that were used have all run out. Synthesizing soma was once an option, but has become less effective than it would have been years ago.
Your duty to your people to keep them happy. That’s all it is.
“Sir! It’s not working, the systems are jammed!” you hear a Beta worker shout up to you from the testing area, frantically trying to press keys to stop the anomaly.
You have begun your own testing in secret for not only new worlds for harvesting, but entirely different dimensions. This is your first test: opening a wormhole.
…Unfortunately, due to a few incorrect calculations, the wormhole has manifested a bit… uncontrollably. It’s swallowing everything that gets near it. You watch as a few helpless Alphas and Betas are sucked into the abyssal center of the wormhole, never to be seen again. As this all plays out, you ponder at what could have gone wrong as you are pulled closer and closer to the wormhole. It’s pointless for you to resist its grip, however; you already know this. Just close your eyes, and accept your fate; someone will eventually replace you.
They always do. They must, in order to maintain stability within the World State.
One egg cell; that’s all you were to them. That’s all you ever needed to be. You were commissioned and bred to be a leader. They won’t do any different with the next one.
Although, despite all of this, they might be a bit disturbed with all of the soma you’re taking with you on your journey to death. If you’re going to die, at least you won’t feel a thing as you are crushed into singularity. You open a bottle and quickly take out one soma pill, popping it into your mouth and swallowing before you’re lifted off your feet and thrown into the wormhole, your entire body warping and squishing to the size of a pinpoint while moving faster than light through dimensions.
The thought of it is absolutely dreadful. You wish you’d taken a second pill for this.
CCCCRAAACK!!
Suddenly, you slam down hard onto your back, against something solid. It’s too painful to move, and the world is fading around you…
The last thing you hear before you black out is a female’s voice…
“What is that thing?”
“What… where… am I?”
Your eyes open, still dazed from your landing. Despite being fairly disoriented from your landing, you can feel that you’re definitely not dead. The pain in your spine is evident of that.
But… what could that mean? Where were you?
You look down at your body; someone appears to have bandaged you up. And you’re sleeping on a rather comfortable bed, it seems. Who could have done this?
Could it be possible? Did the wormhole experiment work? It must have, worked, and this place must have been set up by one of your Alphas. You reach over for your glasses, placing them on; despite being an Alpha Double-Plus, your vision has deteriorated a bit in your age. One-hundred and forty seven years is a long time for the human body to survive, after all. Soma had kept your younger figure, though, and you’re thankful for that. You may not have survived the fall otherwise.
Everything around the room did seems a bit… smaller than usual, though. Your thought process is interrupted, however, when you hear the door open, and the sound of footsteps coming up to you. “Well, howdy there, stranger! Looks like ya got pretty banged up back there, so ah decided ah’d bring you back here an’ fix you up!”
This dialect, it seems a bit… primitive. You turn your head to look at the source, and are dumbfounded by your discovery.
It’s… a pony? No, it couldn’t be, it just spoke!
You rub your eyes, before peering closely through your glasses. It’s definitely some kind of equine-like creature, but… it was sentient. Not to mention the fact that the orange fur, a blonde mane, and the fact that it wore a Stetson hat on its head was a dead giveaway. More than that, it could speak too! Just what in the name of Ford was going on here? This isn’t possible, nothing like this has ever been seen before! It’s unfathomable! Unbelievable!
“So, can ya talk? Hope ya didn’t bang yer head too hard…” she mutters, looking at you with a raised, inquisitive eyebrow.
You return the pony’s gaze for what seems like minutes, just laying there, your mouth agape. Once you take a few moments to collect yourself, however, you find that you now have the urge to speak. “What… are you?” you ask, your voice shaking a bit. If anything, this explains the size difference in all of the furniture. “Where are my Alphas? My researchers?”
“Yer what-now?” the pony raises an eyebrow at you. “Last I remember, Rarity said she only found you with nothin’ else except for a few bottles laying around your body… she brought you here and Big Mac and I fixed you up! You had a pretty bad fall… Ya might wanna wait a day or two before headin’ out again.”
Your eyes shoot to her when she mentions the bottles. Your soma! Sweet Ford above, he’s still watching over you, even here! “Where are they now? My bottles of soma?” you ask, a bit frantically.
“Uh, well, ah think Rarity has ‘em-”
“Wonderful! Where can I find this… ‘Rarity’?” you stop her mid-sentence, sitting up. If anything, the soma will definitely soothe your nerves. After you calm down, you’ll finally be able to make sense of this madness.
“Whoa there, calm down!” the pony exclaims, pushing you back down onto the bed. “Yer hurt, and ya gotta get some rest, alright? Just wait, ah’m sure Twilight’ll be here any second and she’ll be able ta explain what’s goin’ on.”
“I don’t need someone to explain it to me, I already know what’s happening!” you exclaim, a bit of an annoyed tone in your voice. Soma… you really need it right about now.
“Ya do?” she asks, tilting her head curiously.
It appears she’s not going to let you go without an answer. Inconvenience, but not one you can’t handle. “It’s simple. I’m just… hallucinating, that’s all. You’re just a figment of my imagination, and I’m having some sort of wild hallucination. I could be dead, for all I know.” Despite the pain screaming through your back, you manage to stand up and get off the bed before collapsing and smacking your head against the wall as you fall to the floor.
“Uh… you sure yer alright?” the pony asks you, prodding your injured gut with one of her hooves.
Ouch, that hurt a lot more than you had expected; it seems you suffered some internal damage as well when landing. “…I suppose sleep will be the best thing to be rid of this hallucination. Thank you for helping me in my lucid dreaming,” you say, smiling as she helps you back up into the bed. As you turn over onto your side to face away from her, you hear the sound of her muttering something about “crazy as a rooster crowing in the middle of the night”, before you doze off. Hopefully when you awaken for real, then you may be able to make sense of all of this…
You wake up a few hours later, still in the same setting as you were in when you fell asleep. As you try to sit up, you feel a sharp pain in your side. You must have fallen asleep in a weird position and cramped up your muscles.
You hate when that happens.
“Now then, time to get some-” you begin, but you stop yourself when your eyes wander to the ceiling. There, in the top corner of the room, a fluffy, pink furred thing is eyeing you. It’s just… standing there, as if it has suction cups on its feet or something.
Wait a minute… it’s another one of those ponies. But… that was just a hallucination!
Well, looks like your hallucination hasn’t gone away.
“Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie, what’s your name?” the pony asks, bouncing down onto the ground and zooming across the floor to you.
You shake your head a bit, collecting yourself. “I am Anonymous, one of the ten World Controllers, an Alpha Double-Plus.” Just keep your calm tone, Anonymous. It’s just another hallucination.
“Heehee! That’s a silly name. Long, too. How about I just call you “Anon” for short?” she asks, grinning up at you. Yes. Definitely the strangest hallucination you’ve been through.
“I… suppose that will be acceptable?”
“Great!” she exclaims, holding out a hoof. “You’re my newest friend, Anon!”
You eye the pony for a moment. “…A friend?”
“Yeah! Friend! Y’know, someone to talk with, and play with, and- OH! Make sweets and stuff! You look like someone who knows his way around sweets and cakes!”
What in the world is she talking about? In all of the years you’ve been in charge of the World State, you’ve never heard that word before. Nor have you heard of “sweets and cakes”. “Sorry, that’s not something I’m… quite familiar with.”
“WHAAAAAT?! You’ve never had any sweets before, ever?!” she exclaims, gasping and her jaw dropping to the floor. What is with the physics here? It’s all completely illogical…
“I have no idea what you are talking about, actually,” you say, giving her a blank stare. She shakes her head rapidly, before grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the room, despite your injuries.
…With her hoof. Seriously, what kind of world is this? “We’re getting you to Sugarcube Corner, pronto!” she exclaims, continuing to drag you along behind her. As you’re pulled into the hallway, she unknowingly slams you into the side of the doorframe, landing a nice welt on your shoulder. Wonderful.
“Pinkie? What in tarnation d’ya think yer doin’?” you hear a voice come from behind you. You look back, and see the orange pony from earlier.
“I’m taking Anon here to Sugarcube Corner! He’s never had any dessert a day in his life! This MUST be fixed!” the pink one exclaims.
The orange pony shakes her head. “He needs rest, Pinkie! He’s still a bit bonkers from hitting his head!”
You’ve had just about enough of this; your head was already hurting from hitting it before, the last thing you need is to hear these two bicker. With a swift move, you manage to free your hand from her… hoof’s grip. “Excuse me, but if I’m going to be going anywhere, it’s to collect my things and leave this place. Where did you say my belongings were?” you ask, turning to the orange pony while rubbing your hand.
“Oh, they’re at Rarity’s. She’s the one that found ya,” she nods. “Now, ya need ta get some rest, really; yer not in the right mind ta be goin’ out like this.”
“I’m going out. I’m getting my things. And I’m leaving this place for good,” you reply sternly; you were fed up with them keeping you from your soma. And by Ford if you were going to let any sort of pastel-colored pony keep you from your sweet salvation.
She sighs, and looks up at you. “Alright, I’ll letcha go, but you’ll need an escort. Pinkie, you take him over ta Rarity’s, alright?” she asks, turning to the pink one.
“Okie dokie loki!” she exclaims, holding up a hoof in the air. “C’mon Mister Anon! Follow me!”
You nod, following the bouncing pony down the trail; hopefully, your soma is unharmed. As you walk, though, you take notice of your surroundings. It’s so… primitive. None of the technology of the World State for as far as the eye could see. It’s like an eternal visit to the Reservation, but with less savagery to watch.
And everywhere you look, there are ponies. Ponies of all shapes, sizes, and colors. It’s not quite in your best tastes.
“What… is this place?” you ask finally, turning to the pink pony at your side.
“Silly! This is Ponyville! You’re in Equestria, after all!” she smiles, bouncing her way down the trail alongside you.
“This is so much different from the World State...”
As the two of you walk, you notice that the other ponies around the town are giving you strange looks as well. Seems you’re not exactly commonplace in this world. “Tell me… has any human ever come to this place?”
“A human? What’s that?” she asks, turning her head to look at you as she continues bouncing.
“Well, it’s what I am. A homo-sapien,” you say, placing your finger on your chest.
“A homo-wha?”
Figures as much; a different dimension from your own having humans? Less likely than you may expect. “…I’ll just take that as a ‘no’, then.”
She shakes her head. “Nope! I’ve never seen anypony like you before! And I know everypony here, so that would mean you’re new!”
“I can see that,” you say with a sarcastic tone in your voice, “so does that mean that ponies are the sentient race here? They’re the ones in charge?”
“Yup! There’re lots of other creatures here besides ponies, but Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are the ones in charge,” she says, smiling up at you. “They control the sun and the moon, ya know?”
Your eyes widen. “The sun and the moon?! How is that possible?”
“Magic, duh!” she grins up at you, as the two of you come up to a large, cylindrical building with various decorations on it. So tacky. Too many designs for your tastes.
Then again, the World State did give up art and truth for the pursuit of eternal happiness. Art, in its most basic form, cannot exist without passion. And passion cannot exist without misery. The expression of one’s inner turmoil. Truth, similarly, brings change to the norm of things. And with change, comes a feeling of instability. And instability brings unhappiness. Even scientific and technological advances in the World State had to be regulated and maintained by you and your colleagues; too much advancement would cause major instability in your society. But this… ‘magic’, this pony was talking about… what could it be?
“…Magic?” you ask, curiously.
Pinkie nods, before knocking on the door to the boutique with her head.
…This pony is quite a strange one. The door opens, and a white pony with a curled, purple mane walks out to meet the two of you. “Ah! Darling, you must be the one I found earlier today. I must say, you were quite shaken from your… ‘eventful’ landing,” she says. This one is different from the other two. She has… a horn?
“What… is that?” you ask, pointing to the horn on her head.
“Oh, this?” she asks, pointing to it with her hoof, “Why, it’s my horn, of course! Couldn’t perform magic without it. Sewing clothing and outfits is precise work, so magic definitely helps in that regard.” There’s that word again; “magic”…
“When you say ‘magic’, what exactly do you mean?” you ask, determined to find out exactly what they meant when they said it. You remembered the other World Controllers mentioning it from time to time in their social interactions and laughing whenever it was spoken, however you had no understanding of the concept yourself. Being brought up in a world without knowing anything else outside what you were told, after all, was quite limiting to you in this situation.
The white pony smiles, and opens the door wider. “Come in, I’ll show you around. Thank you Pinkie, I’ll take it from here.”
“Okie dokie loki!” the pink one grins widely, looking up at you. “I’ll be back later; you’re gonna have an awesome time at Sugarcube Corner!” she exclaims, before hopping off toward the center of the town.
“…Definitely strange,” you mutter, once she was out of earshot.
“Don’t worry, she means well,” the pony smiles, closing the door behind you with a bright glow from her horn.
You eye the horn for a bit inquisitively, before deciding to ask about it. “So that was what you’d call ‘magic’, then?” Fascinating; some kind of remote controlling of objects. The other World Controllers would be interested in this if they were here to see it.
“Yes; there are many different kinds of magic, from levitation, to transformation, and so on,” she says, walking up to you. “I’m Rarity, by the way. A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she smiles, holding out a hoof.
You smile, taking it in your hand and shaking it. “I am Anonymous, one of the ten Controllers of the World State.”
“Oh, sounds quite prestigious!” she exclaims, smiling brightly, “Tell me about this ‘World State’,” she says, guiding you over to a nearby couch. It’s a bit small, but it holds your person well enough.
This one is intriguing; she seems well interested in the idea of a utopian society. You begin to tell her of all of the glorious devices of your society’s creation; soma, for example, at which time she levitated the bottles back to you. You open a bottle and take out a tablet, offering her one.
“Oh, I couldn’t; I’m not quite… comfortable, with that sort of thing,” she says, her face a bit nervous as she lies down on another couch across from you.
Continuing with your explanation, you proceed to educate her on all introductory aspects of the World State, more or less of what young children would be conditioned within the Hatchery. The ranks of the caste system. How art is no longer an integral part of society, having been abandoned long ago due to causing uproars and protests. You also tell her about how sex is no longer based on an emotional love, but a physical gratification; she’s disgusted by it.
“How could something so… beautiful in creation, be abused so thoughtlessly?” she exclaims, a bit surprised by all of this. Your society and hers were perhaps a lot more contrasting than you had originally anticipated.
By the time you bring up Bokanovsky’s Process, she’s completely shocked. “That’s horrible! Limiting the children before they are even born… what kind of person does that?”
“It keeps them happy,” you say, swallowing a tablet. “Think about it in this way; there are no wars, no riots, and no conflicts anymore in the World State. The people are happy because the work they do is tailored to their intelligence and physical ability. Epsilons, for example, relish in the simple labor they have, because it requires little to no strain on their minds.”
“I suppose it makes sense when you put it in that situation… but happiness at the cost of suppressing individuality…? Why bother living in a world where everyone is the same? My business would certainly falter in the face of such conditions,” she says, cringing a bit at the thought.
“Well, then it’s better for you to be in this kind of society then, I suppose,” you say, smiling and leaning back in your chair. The feeling of the soma taking over your body once again was refreshing, to say the least.
She smiles and nods. “Definitely.”
This conversation gets your mind’s gears moving a bit. “You know, you remind me of someone I remember hearing about back in the World State,” you say after a few moments, rubbing your chin.
“Oh?” she perks up a bit, intrigued.
You nod, remembering rather vaguely the incident from years past. “Yes; his name was John, but the citizens more accurately referred to him as ‘The Savage’.”
“Oh, my! Why would they do such a thing?” she exclaims, gasping a bit in surprise.
You go into detail of explaining what you knew about John; he had been born at the Reservation, and learned from the writings of Shakespeare, contradicting the propaganda of the World State. Eventually, he could not take the conditioning of the citizens, and started a riot, landing him and his cohorts in solitary confinement. He asked for isolation from the rest of the world; however, you and the other World Controllers refused it to him due to his being the one that started the riots. You felt it was the best punishment for what he had done.
He later left the city and eventually took up residence in a lighthouse on the coast of Europe, however he was unable to escape the publicity of being the one to cause riots in the World State, so one day, he went and hung himself, ending any sort of connections to the world he had left.
“Oh my, that’s terrible!” she exclaims. “Well, I do hope his spirit was laid to rest…”
You shrug. “We have grown to where we do not fear death; rather, we enjoy life and all of its pleasures. And if there is ever something we do not particularly enjoy, there is always soma. One gramme, and all of the problems in the world go away in an instant,” you grin, snapping your fingers. “Just like that.”
She shakes her head. “It sounds like more of a hallucination than anything else…”
“It creates the ultimate euphoria for those who ingest it,” you say. “Essentially, it’s like religion, but without the tears– that is the true purpose of soma.”
She thinks for a moment. “It still seems a bit strange… to cut yourself off from the rest of the world to enjoy your own hallucination of all of the good things of the world; it almost seems rather selfish, if you ask me.”
You sigh, folding your arms. “Your world and my own are two very different societies; it’s not surprising you’d think strangely of it.”
“Yes, they are very much the opposite from each other. I don’t know if Princess Celestia would agree with it either…” she says, hesitantly.
That’s the second time you’ve heard the mention of that name. First from that pink pony, and now this one. “Tell me, who is this… ‘Celestia’ I’ve heard about?”
“Oh, she is our ruler,” Rarity says, looking you square in the eyes. “She controls the sunrise, and her sister, Luna, controls the sunset.”
“So a diarchy, then,” you say. You’d read books on the history of Earth when you were younger; the concepts of a diarchy seemed to work more effectively than those who didn’t. The great empire of Rome, for example, had begun with the story of two brothers. “I see… I remember the pink one mentioning something about that. Exactly what is it they do to perform this mighty task, though?”
“Why, magic, of course,” Rarity smiles. “She and her sister are the most powerful spellcasters of all of us.”
“I see...” you place your finger to your chin, thinking for a moment. “And how would I go about meeting this… ‘Celestia’?” You were curious; a divine ruler with ultimate control over a kingdom? She definitely sounded like someone to know.
“Well, I’m sure that Twilight would be willing to send a letter to her about you,” Rarity says. “I can take you there tomorrow, if you would like. It looks to be getting a bit late right now,” she looks out the window. Sure enough, it was nearing sunset. “Do you have a place to stay yet, Mr. Anonymous?” she asks, looking back to you.
Hm… come to think of it, you don’t. You shake your head, and she smiles at you. “That’s fine; you can stay here tonight. I’m sure Sweetie Belle won’t mind letting you use her room for one night, she can stay with me. Speaking of which…” she mutters, “She should be arriving home by now. Her and her friends always seem to enjoy playing outside where they get dirty,” she shudders at the thought. “Not me, though; I’d prefer to do anything in my ability to prevent such activity.”
Almost on cue, the door slams open and you see three smaller ponies, completely covered from head-to-toe in mud. Rarity gasps, and she rushes over to the three of them. “Sweetie Belle, what kind of crazy plan did you three come up with today?” she asks, her voice a bit frantic.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders Trench-Diggers!” one of the mud-covered ponies exclaims, grinning proudly up at Rarity. You assume that by the horn on her head, this was her younger sibling.
“Yeah, Apple Bloom here thought we’d be able to get our cutie marks by digging a bunch of trenches. Show’s how much she knows,” another one of the smaller ponies says, groaning a bit. This one has wings; that’s something you haven’t seen yet.
“Hey! Yer the one who said it sounded like a good idea!” the pony on top of the pile looks down at the winged pony. You note that, by her accent, she could possibly be related to the orange pony from earlier today.
“Now now, you two should be heading on home, quickly! Don’t want that mud to cake to your fur; it’ll take an eternity to get it out!” Rarity exclaims, looking at the two other, smaller ponies.
“Alright…” the winged one sighs, before shrugging the one she called ‘Apple Bloom’ off of her, and walking out, tracking hoofprints of mud behind her.
“You should do the same, Apple Bloom; what would Applejack say if she saw you like this?” Rarity turns to look at the other filly.
“My sister? Heehee, she’d prob’ly crack up laughing if she saw me like this!” she exclaims, before hopping off Sweetie Belle and out onto the trail. “See ya tomorrow, Sweetie Belle!” she grins, waving a hoof at the last remaining mud-covered pony.
“Bye!” she waves back with her hoof, before Rarity’s horn starts to glow and the door magically closes shut.
“Now, Sweetie Belle, we have a guest staying with us tonight,” Rarity smiles, her eye twitching a bit from seeing the mud on her floor, before turning to look at you. “He’ll be sleeping in your room tonight, so you’ll be staying with me.” She turns back to the smaller pony, “So that means you have to wash all that mud off, alright?”
“Yes ma’am!” she exclaims, before turning to look at you, her eyes widening. “Wh-what is THAT?” her voice cracks a bit on the last word, pointing a muddy hoof at you.
“That, Sweetie, is our guest tonight. His name is ‘Anonymous’. Please be on your best behavior for him,” Rarity sighs, before her horn starts to glow and the smaller pony is levitated up off the ground. “I do apologize for ending our conversation so abruptly; I’m taking her to get a bath ready. Her room is down the hall and on the left, you may go and see if the room will accommodate you,” Rarity says, before she walks off, levitating the muddy pony in the air next to her, the occasional drop of mud landing on the floor causing her to wince with each time.
You decide to take this opportunity to examine the rest of your temporary living quarters. You stand up and walk into the hallway, opening the door on the left, just like Rarity said.
It’s fairly small… and pink. So much pink. You walk over to the bed; it’s a bit small, but hopefully it’ll be able to hold your body without breaking.
This room, it’s… different. You’d expected something similar from a place like this, but it’s just so different from what you’re used to seeing in the World State.
You walk out, and see that Rarity has since returned from fixing a bath for her sister, and is now sitting on the couch. The floor has been cleaned, as well. You walk back and sit down across from her once again.
“So, will it be enough for you?” she asks, smiling.
You nod. “It will do for tonight.”
She nods back, muttering something about a ‘thank you’ under her breath. “Well, now where were we in our conversation before Sweetie Belle came in?” she asks, smiling once again.
“You were saying something about this ‘Twilight’ sending a message to Celestia for me?” You were quite anxious to meet this princess, you noticed.
“Ah, yes,” Rarity smiles, her eyes meeting yours. “We can go tomorrow to Twilight’s home; I would imagine that she’d be interested to see you, and I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to send a letter to the princess on your behalf.” You smile and nod, before thanking her again. “Oh, it’s no trouble, really! Though, it is starting to get a bit late, so I believe rest is the best option right now, wouldn’t you agree?” she asks, smiling at you. “Sweetie Belle should be getting out of her bath soon…”
Again, almost if on cue, the smaller pony runs out into the living room, bouncing around before running up to you. “So, what are you exactly?” she asks, grinning widely. “You don’t look very dangerous, and Rarity seems to like you, so-”
“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity exclaims, “Don’t ask such intrusive questions to our guest!”
The smaller pony looks to her sister. “But Rarity, I-”
“It’s quite alright,” you smile at her, holding up a hand. “I’ll tell you. I’m actually not of this world.”
“Whoa! So you’re some sort of alien? Are you here to eat our brains and breed with the natives?” Sweetie Belle grins up at you.
…What? “I suppose, yes to the first, and… no? To the others, that is.”
Sweetie Belle nods excitedly. “Heehee, this is so cool!” her voice cracks again, “I’ve never met an alien before!”
You manage to stifle a small chuckle. “Well, is that all you wanted to know, then?”
She nods again. “Yep! Night, Mister Anonymous!” she exclaims, before running off into the hallway and shutting the door to the room across from yours.
Rarity sighs. “A bundle full of energy, as always…”
You chuckle and nod. “Definitely.”
“So, we’ll head out first thing tomorrow morning, then?” she smiles at you.
You nod, standing up. “Yes; thank you again for allowing me to stay here for tonight.” You bow, a bit lower than you usually would since she is a pony and she sits lower than a normal human would.
She gasps, and waves a hoof, “Oh, think nothing of it! I can’t let someone just sleep outside when they need the help,” she says, before standing up. “Well, good night, Anonymous. Sleep well,” she smiles, walking off toward the room Sweetie Belle ran into a few minutes ago.
You nod and follow suit, entering Sweetie Belle’s room and lying down on the bed. Perhaps after a good night of sleep, you will be able to make sense of all that’s been going on today…
End Chapter 1
