TCB: The Sound Of Walking Awayby Madrigal BaroqueChaptersWhile My Heart In My Chest ShoutsThere's A Voice EmergingYou're Not Worth StayingThe Sound Of Walking AwayWhile My Heart In My Chest ShoutsScarlet petals, each carefully cut and softly shaped with patient fingers. Affix them one by one to the tightly curled bud until the blossom is in full bloom. Then tease out the petals, each one exactly placed in a meticulous spiral pattern, and flatten the back to make it even. Perfect. Nona took the red tissue rose and affixed a loop of sticktape to the base. She walked over to the wall of her tiny bedroom and considered where she should put the newest addition to her garden. There were vines and stems and leaves of every shade of green painted onto a wall that had been stained the blue of a Van Gogh sky, with soft clouds near the edge of a grassy horizon. All along the painted vines were paper flowers of every size and shape and color. Pink carnations, yellow dandelions, white magnolias, purple violets, azaleas and hydrangea and lilies of every color. And roses, so many roses. Because Nona liked roses best. Nona had never seen a real rose. Or any flower at all. But she had seen pictures. On holoview, in old books, in paintings from artists long dead. Papa said the Good Families had gardens, or so he'd heard, but they would never get a chance to see one. Papa had a good pension, but he'd been released from employ years ago. Voices came from outside her room. Voices raised in anger. Mama and Papa were arguing again. Usually they tried not to shout, because Nona would hear and they knew it would upset her. And it did. Nona concentrated on where to place the new rose. It was a beautiful rose, the best she'd ever made. It should be in a special place, a place of honor. "...almost twenty years old! All she does is sit up in her room reading books and making silly little paper flowers to stick to the walls. She lives in her own little dream world. When are you going to finally admit that she's never going to get any better?" "Goddammit, Ruth,you treat her like an idiot. She's not." Then why can't she find work? Why can't she talk to people? My God, Jacob, I can't even take her to market with me. As soon as someone looks at her she pitches a fit and runs off to hide. Last time it took me hours to find her! She is totally out of touch with reality–" "She's autistic, Ruth. Her brain isn't wired like ours but that doesn't mean she's not bright. She's very bright, but loud noises–" Papa seemed to realize how loud he'd gotten, and immediately his voice dropped to an unintelligible, soothing murmur. "You always put her fir–" Her mother's voice, still at full volume, was interrupted by a sharp "Shhhh!". When she continued, she spoke in a lower tone as well, but she still sounded harsh and resentful. Nona hummed softly so she couldn't hear the noises from her parents' room. There, that was better. Now she could focus on her flower wall. There! Carefully she affixed her rose to a spot on the vine just above a cluster of daffodils. She took a step back to regard her garden as a whole, enjoying the juxtaposition of the brilliant splash of red above the whites and yellows below. The slam of the front door made her jump. Someone had left in a hurry. Just like the last two times they'd fought about her. Nona hated it when her parents fought about her. She hated fighting in general, all the shouting and cursing and things smashing and feet stomping and doors slamming… There was a soft knock on her bedroom door. "Punkin? Everything okay?" It was only when she fell silent that Nona realized her humming had turned into keening. She was sitting cross-legged on the sunflower rug, rocking, back and forth, back and forth. She put her hands down flat on the hardwood floor to ground herself and make the rocking stop. "Hi, Papa." She tried to sound cheerful, but it was hard and she didn't know if she did it right. Papa was hard to fool about things like that. And he certainly must have heard the noises she'd been making before he knocked. Papa had good ears. The door opened gently and Papa poked his head in. Nona stiffened, but Papa didn't scowl or berate her for whining the way Mama might have. He just smiled and looked at her wall garden. "I see you've been busy growing new flowers," he said. "I especially like the new rose." Nona got to her feet. She felt so much more relaxed now. "Papa, if you need me to get a job, I'll do it. I can cook, and clean, and–" "Jobs are scarce, punkin. Nobody can find work right now." He stepped into the room and cocked his head. "Are you bored staying at home? We could go to the art gallery this afternoon. Or the old library. You could get more books." Nona loved books. Inside a good book she could escape into a reality belonging only to her, at least for a while. There was a lot to be learned from books, too. But… Nona cast her eyes in the general direction of the front door. "What about…?" "Your mother went for a walk. We'll leave her a note." He was holding the door open. Nona could tell he wanted to hug her, but he was holding back. He knew she didn't always want to be touched. But right now she wanted contact. She went and put her arms around her father. "I wish I wasn't like I am," she said. Her voice was flat and toneless, like it always was when she was stating a simple but painful fact. Her mother said it made her sound like a robot, like she didn't have feelings. Nona had feelings, and her father understood that she couldn't always show them in ways other people would...or in ways other people would understand. Papa understood. "You are who you are," he said, holding her gently. "Now. Gallery or library?" She peeked up at him through her tousled brown bangs and smiled the way she only did for him. "Both?" Papa chuckled and tousled her hair. "So long as we're back by dinnertime." *** Author's Note This is a side story to my first fic The Heart of Everything . It isn't required to read the other story, but it might be a good idea. I have known several neural atypical people in my life, and I did a lot of research and asked a lot of questions in order to present the character of Nona as authentically and as sensitively as I could manage...and I'm sure I still made mistakes. I hope they can be forgiven. There's A Voice EmergingThe holoviewer flickered away from the shining vision of an impossibly beautiful creature speaking of a hope of life after the utter destruction of the Earth. An offer of sanctuary, of peace, Jacob Mizrahi sat on the sofa between his wife and daughter, staring as they did at the shocked faces of the newscasters who stumbled through their commentary, trying to find the right buzzwords to make sense of what had just happened. "Dear God," his wife breathed, her voice cracked and shaky. "This can't be happening. It's insane." She sat forward, shaking her head in denial. "It's some kind of…of joke, that's all. One of those hypothetical scenarios like they showed a few years back. The one that made everyone think an asteroid was going to hit. People panicked in the streets before the network issued that disclaimer about it being a work of fiction." She laughed, a hard brittle cackle. "We just tuned in after the announcement that it's fictional, that's all. They'll come on any time now, stating it was just a…just a holoshow." She choked on what she knew were lies, breaking down into tears. Jacob reached out to comfort her, but Ruth tore herself from his grasp and stood up. "I'm going to bed," she announced, angrily wiping tears from her eyes. "If you want to sit there and watch any more of this nonsense, that's up to you. Leave me out of it." "Ruthie…" But Jacob's call did not stop her. Helplessly she watched her disappear into the bedroom. He heard the lock click behind her and sighed. The sofa would be his bed tonight. Ruth didn't want a witness to her breakdown. To her, tears were weakness, and Ruth would never let herself be seen as weak, even by the man she'd married. "Papa…?" Jacob met his daughter's gaze, her wise and earnest dark eyes somewhat troubled, but unafraid. "What is it, punkin?" "Mama's wrong." Nona's round pale face showed concern, but no uncertainty at all. "This isn't a joke or a holoseries. Those people in the studio, they're scared." Carefully Jacob laid a hand on Nona's. Her fingers were cold. "Your mom's scared, too." He glanced at the closed door, the barrier Ruth had imposed between herself and a reality she utterly rejected. So who's the one living in her own little world, Ruthie? "I'm not scared," Nona declared with conviction. "The world we live in, the way it is, is more frightening than anything in Equestria could be." "That's true," Jacob agreed. Emboldened, he put an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. She didn't respond, but she didn't pull away, either. That in itself was a response–simple acceptance. "Good. Let's be not scared together." "You've got a deal." *** Author's Note Brief chapter, yes, I know. But it says what needs to be said. You're Not Worth StayingNona was singing to her flowers when the door opened behind her. She silenced herself with a hand over her mouth and turned around to look, eyes wide. "Hello, darling." Mama was smiling, and Nona relaxed. Tried to. Mama had been very upset and almost silent the last few days. Some nights she didn't even come out of the bedroom for dinner, and left the trays in front of her door untouched. She hadn't been keeping up with herself either. She'd gone around in her old sweats, her hair unwashed, her skin dingy. She had started to smell. But now she was freshly showered, her blonde bob combed and shining. She wore her best dress suit, the blue one with the pleats on the sides, and a cheerful paisley scarf. She took Nona's small purple traveling bag out of the closet and began folding and stuffing clothes into it. "Mama?" Nona didn't ask what she was doing; that would have been a stupid question. "Why are you packing my stuff?" "We're going on a little trip, sweetheart." Mama's voice was as bright as spun glass. And as fragile. "Get some nice clothes on, and brush your hair. We have to catch the afternoon transbus." Nona did as she was told. She always did what Mama told her, even when something about it didn't feel quite right. Like now. "Where are we going, Mama?" Nona strove to sound merely curious. She was trying to hide her unease, so her tone came out flat. "We deserve a vacation, don't you think?" Mama snapped the suitcase shut and lifted it off the bed. She held her free hand out to Nona. "Let's go, honey. Time's a-wasting." It was only when they had reached the foot of the stairs that Nona realized who wasn't there. "Where's Papa?" "He had things to take care of," Mama said, not looking around. "He'll meet us there." Liar. "Where are we going?" Nona wasn't sure she was managing not to sound suspicious. Mama either didn't notice, or didn't care. "It's a surprise, baby. But I'm sure you'll love it." Nona stopped dead in her tracks. Mama took a step and a half towards the front door before she was brought up short. When she looked at Nona, for just a brief instant her face was a twisted mask of frustration and impatience (and yes, disgust, too) before she smoothed her expression into banal benevolence. "Come on, silly girl, we've got to hurry!" She tugged on Nona's hand, but Nona didn't budge. "I want to wait for Papa." Because wherever you're taking me, I don't think I would like it much. Or at all. "We really need to go, precious!" Now Mama was pulling so hard Nona had to lean back and grab the banister to keep from being dragged towards the door. "Now is no time to be obstinate! We have to hurry or–" The front door flew open and Papa came running in. Mama was so startled by his showing up that her grip on Nona's wrist loosened. The link broken, the two of them flung themselves in opposite directions. Nona had a grip on the banister so she kept her footing, but Mama went sprawling at Papa's feet. The purple suitcase went skidding across the plaswood floor and thumped against the wall. Papa watched it go, then cut his dark eyes briefly to Nona (checking on her) before focusing on his wife. Mama was struggling to her feet, trying to push her hair back into place. Before she could even begin to stammer out any explanations, he spoke with a cold fury that made Nona shudder. "How. Dare. You." "Jacob, you know it's for the best. With everything going on people are starting to panic and we can't possibly hope to keep her–" Crack! Nona stared, fighting hard to process what she'd just seen. Her father stood with his arm extended behind him after the vicious backhanded slap he'd delivered to...to Mama's face. The force of the blow had almost knocked Mama off her feet. Mama managed not to fall this time, though. She raised a hand to her mouth, and her fingertips came away red. "You…hit me," she said, more shocked than angry, hiding out her bloodied hand to him. Papa walked past Mama as though she wasn't even there. As he approached Nona, she shrank back, and he hesitated, stopping just out of arm's reach. He tried to smile with reassurance, but he was still too angry. Not at me. He's not mad at me. He won't hit me. He would never hit me. But he hit Mama... Carefully, he held out a hand. "Come with me, punkin." His voice was gentle and kind, but his eyes were still black with fury. Nona looked at his offered hand. The back of it was still red from the slap he'd delivered. It was hard to trust him, but...this was still Papa. Her Papa. She met his angry gaze with calm resolve. "If I say no, will you hit me, too?" He winced as if she had slapped him. "I would never hurt you, Nona. You know that." And with that, she did know. She put her hand trustingly in his, no more hesitation. He led her across the room, ignoring the calls and sobs that begged for his attention. He didn't even break stride when he scooped up her fallen suitcase. They walked out the door together, and Nona focused so hard on keeping pace with her fathercthat she barely noticed her mother's screaming sobs. They caught the transbus together. It was crowded, as always, but Nona barely reacted. She was too numbed by the last hour's events to react to strange faces or voices or smells. "Are we going away, Papa? Are you taking me where Mama was going to?" Papa was shocked. "No, punkin. She was taking you to a…a different place." "The loony bin." It wasn't a question. "An 'assisted living facility'." Papa spat the words out like they tasted bad. "It's a place where people go when they have…problems living in regular society." "It's for throwaway people that nobody wants." Nona swallowed hard. "Maybe that's where I belong." "No." Heads turned at the sharpness of his voice, and Papa waved off their curious gazes. People turned away when he lowered his tone. "We're going to stay at my office in the City until I find a decent place for us to live." "What about Mama? You shouldn't have hit her." Nona spoke almost in a whisper, but he heard her well enough to look ashamed. "You're right. I was just so mad at her. She was going to take you and put you away somewhere and she probably wouldn't have even let me know where you were. I might have never seen you again." He squeezed Nona's hand. "That will never happen. So don't worry." But Nona did worry. The whole way to San Francisco she worried. And she thought. She thought harder than she ever had in her life. By the time they reached Papa's office, she knew what she had to do. He settled her in one of the waiting room sofas and then stretched out on the other. He talked reassuringly, but Nona barely heard him. Finally he fell quiet. Nona was careful not to wake her father as she slipped out the door into the hallway. As soon as she was certain she was well out of earshot, she broke into a run. She slowed to a walk only when she was seven blocks away. She walked past the transbus station, following the route back and checking landmarks they'd passed on the way in. She didn't know whether her parents could ever reconcile, but she knew too well that they never would while she was still in the equation. She couldn't remember them ever fighting about anything but her. If she was gone, there might be a chance that they would be happier together. Even if they didn't, Nona couldn't stop thinking about how Papa had struck Mama. He loved her, but he had hit her. And so hard. Because of Nona. She'd never seen that side of her father before and she never wanted to see it again. It was easy to find the big building they'd passed on the way in. It was one of the few structures still standing and relatively intact in that area of the City. She knew it from the Monday holocast announcing its opening. She'd almost pointed it out to her father, but then thought better of it. Better he didn't know. She stood on the sidewalk in front of the door, looking at the sign for a long time. She knew Papa would be looking for her. But there was one place he would not find her. It was better this way. Squaring her shoulders, Nona walked into the Conversion Bureau. *** Author's Note Some people are simply not equipped to deal with a child who deviates from the socially acceptable norm. Ruth Mizrahi is obviously one of those people. Her behavior is somewhat understandable, particularly in light of the coming apocalypse, but in no way does that excuse her actions. She tried to throw her daughter away like trash. No parent has the right to do that. It's no wonder Jacob, generally the most caring and patient of men, completely lost his shit. The Sound Of Walking Away"I didn't want to just leave him like that…I know he must be awfully worried about me. I just didn't know what else to do." Nona took another sip of tea. "Even if he and Mama don't get back together…at least now he doesn't have to spend what time there is left worrying about what to do with me." She glanced around the garden, admiring the roses. She took a breath, savoring their sweet perfume. "I suppose I should contact him, let him know I'm all right…but I wouldn't know what to say to him. Especially…now." Celestia smiled gently at Nona. "You're right. You should at least let him know you're safe. I'm sure you can get a letter to him." "Should I tell him about…?" Nona waved a hoof. "That's up to you, my little pony. Of course, if you tell him where you are, it wouldn't be hard for him to guess." "Maybe he'll decide to Convert too…" Nona mused. "He might even be able to convince Mama, since they don't have to fight about me anymore." "That choice would be theirs to make, as you made your choice for yourself." When Nona opened her new eyes, the first thing she noticed was how bright the colors were. She rolled onto her belly and gazed around the conversion room in awe, admiring the gleam of light off the metal appliances, the vivid green of the disposal bin, the pristine cleanliness of the tiled floor. She barely heard Dr Pastern and Lynn telling her how pretty she was, although her ears perked up when the doctor explained that, as an Earth pony, she would be able to make things grow. "Like flowers?" she asked excitedly. "Real, living flowers?" "Flowers, trees, grass…even rocks." Nona's new jaw dropped. "Rocks?! Surely you can't be serious!" "I am serious, and don't call me 'Shirley'." The doctor grinned and winked at her. "Earth ponies can make anything organic or mineral grow. They're responsible for Equestrian agriculture, after all. They maintain the land just as pegasi control the weather." Nona considered this. "I think I'd rather grow flowers." Pastern laughed. "You can grow whatever you like. We could certainly use more flowers in the world." "Isn't her coat beautiful, Ros?" Lynn, the physician's assistant, stroked Nona's neck. "She's the prettiest shade of lilac." Nona perked up. "Lilac! That's my name. I love flowers and Lilac is a flower!" Lynn beamed. "And I love helping find names. Lilac it is!" Nona became thoughtful. She looked down at her hooves–sturdy, perfect for walking and trotting, more dexterous than she might have thought…but not very suitable for working a keyboard, or for writing. "Lynn…can you help me write a letter to my father?" Lynn was more than happy to help, then and there. She sat right down on the floor and took dictation from Nona–Lilac–while Dr Pastern tidied up the Conversion Room. Dear Papa, I want you to know that I'm fine. Better than fine. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. I didn't quite know how to explain my reasons, and I don't think you would have let me go anyway. I'm sorry if I hurt you. Please don't be too mad at Mama. She's scared, really scared, and I know she was only doing what she thought would be best for all of us. I'm a pony now, which is why I'm having someone else write this. I will learn to write again of course, but I wanted to send you this right away so you'll know I'm all right. I guess I really just wanted to let you know I'm okay, and to tell you that the stories about ponies not being the same people they were as a human aren't true at all. I'm still your daughter, but I'm called Lilac now. A flower name, of course. That should prove more than anything that I'm still me! I haven't been brainwashed or lobotomized. I'm still the same me, only I can talk to people a lot better now. Even strangers. That's a change for the better, isn't it? So maybe Conversion did rewire my brain, in a way, but it didn't change who I am inside. I love you both so much. Come see me if you want. Maybe you'll decide to convert too. I hope you will. I'll be watching for you. Love, Lilac (the pony formerly known as Nona who is still your daughter) When the letter was done, Lynn gave it to Alexi with directions to Jacob's office. He soon returned with news of a successful delivery. "When I confirmed his name, I put it right in his hand and walked away," he said. The next day, Lilac got a roommate, a pretty girl with chocolate skin called Ana. She was in a wheelchair, and didn't seem very good at working it, but didn't want any help either. Lilac didn't take her slights or jibes personally; Ana's legs had been crushed and healed very badly and she was in an awful lot of pain. She got better after Dr Pastern gave her a nerve block, and Ana didn't resist Lilac's gentle offers of help quite as stridently. Papa never wrote back, so Lilac began checking the lobby of Clinic 042 every morning, perusing the new applicants…hoping…always hoping to see a familiar face. Or two. A few days after her Conversion, Lilac noticed a girl about her own age sitting in a group of registered applicants. Well, she wasn't in the group, not really. She was sitting in the same area as the others, but somehow she seemed to be holding herself apart. Lilac remembered too well how that felt. Things were a lot better now. She loved talking to people, turning total strangers into new friends, sharing ideas and hopes and plans for the future. It was so much better not being alone. Alone was hard. And this new girl looked like she could really use a new friend. Lilac trotted over to the post-reg waiting area. As she approached, the skinny girl with curly hair turned to look at her. Lilac gave her a big welcoming smile. "Hi!" The girl looked startled, and Lilac hastened to reassure her. "I don't mean to bother you, it's just that you looked kind of upset. Are you okay?" "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you." The girl's eyes–such a pretty hazel, dark honey with green and gold flecks–darted back and forth as though looking for a way to escape. How well Lilac remembered that feeling! Poor girl, poor…what was her name, anyway? Of course, she'd probably pick a new name after she Converted, but for now she deserved to be known as more than just "the girl". Well, if you wanted to find out someone's name, wouldn't it only be polite to offer your own first? "My name's Lilac. Just Lilac. Some ponies have two names but I just picked one. Have you picked out a pony name yet?" "What? I…no. No I haven't." After a moment's pause, she added, "I'm Tib." "Tib? I like that!" Lilac couldn't help prancing in place. She did that a lot, these days. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Tib! You'll be coming to the cafeteria for lunch after the tour, right?" "Yes, I think that's what they said up front." "Great! We can have lunch together. Okay?" Lunch. There were going to be apples! Real Equestrian apples! That would be sure to put a smile on Tib's face. She'd better hurry to make sure they had some left. As she hurried past the front desk, the receptionist looked up from her work and smiled. Without slacking her pace, Lilac said, "Hey, Beth! I just made a new friend. Her name's Tib and she's super nice!" She cantered into the cafeteria, smiling at everyone she passed, and everyone smiled back. Making friends was so easy now, and she would someday live in a beautiful world full of green growing things. She would find a place to recreate her garden mural, this time with real, living, growing flowers. Lilac was happier than she'd ever imagined she could be. She was living her dream. But she never saw her father or mother again. The End Author's Note Yes indeed, the withdrawn and socially awkward Nona became Lilac, the joyously expressive pony who loves making friends more than anything. Conversion didn't change our heroine in any way except the purely physical. Not only did she get a new body, she got an upgrade on her wetware that cleared her neural pathways and let the beauty of her innermost spirit shine through. As I said in my first note on this story, I have several friends who are not neurotypical. Without exception, every single one of them is a bright, caring, compassionate person who finds innovative ways to express themselves and I can't help but admire their courage and determination to not only exist but to thrive in a world that is not equipped to handle them.
While My Heart In My Chest ShoutsScarlet petals, each carefully cut and softly shaped with patient fingers. Affix them one by one to the tightly curled bud until the blossom is in full bloom. Then tease out the petals, each one exactly placed in a meticulous spiral pattern, and flatten the back to make it even. Perfect. Nona took the red tissue rose and affixed a loop of sticktape to the base. She walked over to the wall of her tiny bedroom and considered where she should put the newest addition to her garden. There were vines and stems and leaves of every shade of green painted onto a wall that had been stained the blue of a Van Gogh sky, with soft clouds near the edge of a grassy horizon. All along the painted vines were paper flowers of every size and shape and color. Pink carnations, yellow dandelions, white magnolias, purple violets, azaleas and hydrangea and lilies of every color. And roses, so many roses. Because Nona liked roses best. Nona had never seen a real rose. Or any flower at all. But she had seen pictures. On holoview, in old books, in paintings from artists long dead. Papa said the Good Families had gardens, or so he'd heard, but they would never get a chance to see one. Papa had a good pension, but he'd been released from employ years ago. Voices came from outside her room. Voices raised in anger. Mama and Papa were arguing again. Usually they tried not to shout, because Nona would hear and they knew it would upset her. And it did. Nona concentrated on where to place the new rose. It was a beautiful rose, the best she'd ever made. It should be in a special place, a place of honor. "...almost twenty years old! All she does is sit up in her room reading books and making silly little paper flowers to stick to the walls. She lives in her own little dream world. When are you going to finally admit that she's never going to get any better?" "Goddammit, Ruth,you treat her like an idiot. She's not." Then why can't she find work? Why can't she talk to people? My God, Jacob, I can't even take her to market with me. As soon as someone looks at her she pitches a fit and runs off to hide. Last time it took me hours to find her! She is totally out of touch with reality–" "She's autistic, Ruth. Her brain isn't wired like ours but that doesn't mean she's not bright. She's very bright, but loud noises–" Papa seemed to realize how loud he'd gotten, and immediately his voice dropped to an unintelligible, soothing murmur. "You always put her fir–" Her mother's voice, still at full volume, was interrupted by a sharp "Shhhh!". When she continued, she spoke in a lower tone as well, but she still sounded harsh and resentful. Nona hummed softly so she couldn't hear the noises from her parents' room. There, that was better. Now she could focus on her flower wall. There! Carefully she affixed her rose to a spot on the vine just above a cluster of daffodils. She took a step back to regard her garden as a whole, enjoying the juxtaposition of the brilliant splash of red above the whites and yellows below. The slam of the front door made her jump. Someone had left in a hurry. Just like the last two times they'd fought about her. Nona hated it when her parents fought about her. She hated fighting in general, all the shouting and cursing and things smashing and feet stomping and doors slamming… There was a soft knock on her bedroom door. "Punkin? Everything okay?" It was only when she fell silent that Nona realized her humming had turned into keening. She was sitting cross-legged on the sunflower rug, rocking, back and forth, back and forth. She put her hands down flat on the hardwood floor to ground herself and make the rocking stop. "Hi, Papa." She tried to sound cheerful, but it was hard and she didn't know if she did it right. Papa was hard to fool about things like that. And he certainly must have heard the noises she'd been making before he knocked. Papa had good ears. The door opened gently and Papa poked his head in. Nona stiffened, but Papa didn't scowl or berate her for whining the way Mama might have. He just smiled and looked at her wall garden. "I see you've been busy growing new flowers," he said. "I especially like the new rose." Nona got to her feet. She felt so much more relaxed now. "Papa, if you need me to get a job, I'll do it. I can cook, and clean, and–" "Jobs are scarce, punkin. Nobody can find work right now." He stepped into the room and cocked his head. "Are you bored staying at home? We could go to the art gallery this afternoon. Or the old library. You could get more books." Nona loved books. Inside a good book she could escape into a reality belonging only to her, at least for a while. There was a lot to be learned from books, too. But… Nona cast her eyes in the general direction of the front door. "What about…?" "Your mother went for a walk. We'll leave her a note." He was holding the door open. Nona could tell he wanted to hug her, but he was holding back. He knew she didn't always want to be touched. But right now she wanted contact. She went and put her arms around her father. "I wish I wasn't like I am," she said. Her voice was flat and toneless, like it always was when she was stating a simple but painful fact. Her mother said it made her sound like a robot, like she didn't have feelings. Nona had feelings, and her father understood that she couldn't always show them in ways other people would...or in ways other people would understand. Papa understood. "You are who you are," he said, holding her gently. "Now. Gallery or library?" She peeked up at him through her tousled brown bangs and smiled the way she only did for him. "Both?" Papa chuckled and tousled her hair. "So long as we're back by dinnertime." *** Author's Note This is a side story to my first fic The Heart of Everything . It isn't required to read the other story, but it might be a good idea. I have known several neural atypical people in my life, and I did a lot of research and asked a lot of questions in order to present the character of Nona as authentically and as sensitively as I could manage...and I'm sure I still made mistakes. I hope they can be forgiven.
There's A Voice EmergingThe holoviewer flickered away from the shining vision of an impossibly beautiful creature speaking of a hope of life after the utter destruction of the Earth. An offer of sanctuary, of peace, Jacob Mizrahi sat on the sofa between his wife and daughter, staring as they did at the shocked faces of the newscasters who stumbled through their commentary, trying to find the right buzzwords to make sense of what had just happened. "Dear God," his wife breathed, her voice cracked and shaky. "This can't be happening. It's insane." She sat forward, shaking her head in denial. "It's some kind of…of joke, that's all. One of those hypothetical scenarios like they showed a few years back. The one that made everyone think an asteroid was going to hit. People panicked in the streets before the network issued that disclaimer about it being a work of fiction." She laughed, a hard brittle cackle. "We just tuned in after the announcement that it's fictional, that's all. They'll come on any time now, stating it was just a…just a holoshow." She choked on what she knew were lies, breaking down into tears. Jacob reached out to comfort her, but Ruth tore herself from his grasp and stood up. "I'm going to bed," she announced, angrily wiping tears from her eyes. "If you want to sit there and watch any more of this nonsense, that's up to you. Leave me out of it." "Ruthie…" But Jacob's call did not stop her. Helplessly she watched her disappear into the bedroom. He heard the lock click behind her and sighed. The sofa would be his bed tonight. Ruth didn't want a witness to her breakdown. To her, tears were weakness, and Ruth would never let herself be seen as weak, even by the man she'd married. "Papa…?" Jacob met his daughter's gaze, her wise and earnest dark eyes somewhat troubled, but unafraid. "What is it, punkin?" "Mama's wrong." Nona's round pale face showed concern, but no uncertainty at all. "This isn't a joke or a holoseries. Those people in the studio, they're scared." Carefully Jacob laid a hand on Nona's. Her fingers were cold. "Your mom's scared, too." He glanced at the closed door, the barrier Ruth had imposed between herself and a reality she utterly rejected. So who's the one living in her own little world, Ruthie? "I'm not scared," Nona declared with conviction. "The world we live in, the way it is, is more frightening than anything in Equestria could be." "That's true," Jacob agreed. Emboldened, he put an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. She didn't respond, but she didn't pull away, either. That in itself was a response–simple acceptance. "Good. Let's be not scared together." "You've got a deal." *** Author's Note Brief chapter, yes, I know. But it says what needs to be said.
You're Not Worth StayingNona was singing to her flowers when the door opened behind her. She silenced herself with a hand over her mouth and turned around to look, eyes wide. "Hello, darling." Mama was smiling, and Nona relaxed. Tried to. Mama had been very upset and almost silent the last few days. Some nights she didn't even come out of the bedroom for dinner, and left the trays in front of her door untouched. She hadn't been keeping up with herself either. She'd gone around in her old sweats, her hair unwashed, her skin dingy. She had started to smell. But now she was freshly showered, her blonde bob combed and shining. She wore her best dress suit, the blue one with the pleats on the sides, and a cheerful paisley scarf. She took Nona's small purple traveling bag out of the closet and began folding and stuffing clothes into it. "Mama?" Nona didn't ask what she was doing; that would have been a stupid question. "Why are you packing my stuff?" "We're going on a little trip, sweetheart." Mama's voice was as bright as spun glass. And as fragile. "Get some nice clothes on, and brush your hair. We have to catch the afternoon transbus." Nona did as she was told. She always did what Mama told her, even when something about it didn't feel quite right. Like now. "Where are we going, Mama?" Nona strove to sound merely curious. She was trying to hide her unease, so her tone came out flat. "We deserve a vacation, don't you think?" Mama snapped the suitcase shut and lifted it off the bed. She held her free hand out to Nona. "Let's go, honey. Time's a-wasting." It was only when they had reached the foot of the stairs that Nona realized who wasn't there. "Where's Papa?" "He had things to take care of," Mama said, not looking around. "He'll meet us there." Liar. "Where are we going?" Nona wasn't sure she was managing not to sound suspicious. Mama either didn't notice, or didn't care. "It's a surprise, baby. But I'm sure you'll love it." Nona stopped dead in her tracks. Mama took a step and a half towards the front door before she was brought up short. When she looked at Nona, for just a brief instant her face was a twisted mask of frustration and impatience (and yes, disgust, too) before she smoothed her expression into banal benevolence. "Come on, silly girl, we've got to hurry!" She tugged on Nona's hand, but Nona didn't budge. "I want to wait for Papa." Because wherever you're taking me, I don't think I would like it much. Or at all. "We really need to go, precious!" Now Mama was pulling so hard Nona had to lean back and grab the banister to keep from being dragged towards the door. "Now is no time to be obstinate! We have to hurry or–" The front door flew open and Papa came running in. Mama was so startled by his showing up that her grip on Nona's wrist loosened. The link broken, the two of them flung themselves in opposite directions. Nona had a grip on the banister so she kept her footing, but Mama went sprawling at Papa's feet. The purple suitcase went skidding across the plaswood floor and thumped against the wall. Papa watched it go, then cut his dark eyes briefly to Nona (checking on her) before focusing on his wife. Mama was struggling to her feet, trying to push her hair back into place. Before she could even begin to stammer out any explanations, he spoke with a cold fury that made Nona shudder. "How. Dare. You." "Jacob, you know it's for the best. With everything going on people are starting to panic and we can't possibly hope to keep her–" Crack! Nona stared, fighting hard to process what she'd just seen. Her father stood with his arm extended behind him after the vicious backhanded slap he'd delivered to...to Mama's face. The force of the blow had almost knocked Mama off her feet. Mama managed not to fall this time, though. She raised a hand to her mouth, and her fingertips came away red. "You…hit me," she said, more shocked than angry, hiding out her bloodied hand to him. Papa walked past Mama as though she wasn't even there. As he approached Nona, she shrank back, and he hesitated, stopping just out of arm's reach. He tried to smile with reassurance, but he was still too angry. Not at me. He's not mad at me. He won't hit me. He would never hit me. But he hit Mama... Carefully, he held out a hand. "Come with me, punkin." His voice was gentle and kind, but his eyes were still black with fury. Nona looked at his offered hand. The back of it was still red from the slap he'd delivered. It was hard to trust him, but...this was still Papa. Her Papa. She met his angry gaze with calm resolve. "If I say no, will you hit me, too?" He winced as if she had slapped him. "I would never hurt you, Nona. You know that." And with that, she did know. She put her hand trustingly in his, no more hesitation. He led her across the room, ignoring the calls and sobs that begged for his attention. He didn't even break stride when he scooped up her fallen suitcase. They walked out the door together, and Nona focused so hard on keeping pace with her fathercthat she barely noticed her mother's screaming sobs. They caught the transbus together. It was crowded, as always, but Nona barely reacted. She was too numbed by the last hour's events to react to strange faces or voices or smells. "Are we going away, Papa? Are you taking me where Mama was going to?" Papa was shocked. "No, punkin. She was taking you to a…a different place." "The loony bin." It wasn't a question. "An 'assisted living facility'." Papa spat the words out like they tasted bad. "It's a place where people go when they have…problems living in regular society." "It's for throwaway people that nobody wants." Nona swallowed hard. "Maybe that's where I belong." "No." Heads turned at the sharpness of his voice, and Papa waved off their curious gazes. People turned away when he lowered his tone. "We're going to stay at my office in the City until I find a decent place for us to live." "What about Mama? You shouldn't have hit her." Nona spoke almost in a whisper, but he heard her well enough to look ashamed. "You're right. I was just so mad at her. She was going to take you and put you away somewhere and she probably wouldn't have even let me know where you were. I might have never seen you again." He squeezed Nona's hand. "That will never happen. So don't worry." But Nona did worry. The whole way to San Francisco she worried. And she thought. She thought harder than she ever had in her life. By the time they reached Papa's office, she knew what she had to do. He settled her in one of the waiting room sofas and then stretched out on the other. He talked reassuringly, but Nona barely heard him. Finally he fell quiet. Nona was careful not to wake her father as she slipped out the door into the hallway. As soon as she was certain she was well out of earshot, she broke into a run. She slowed to a walk only when she was seven blocks away. She walked past the transbus station, following the route back and checking landmarks they'd passed on the way in. She didn't know whether her parents could ever reconcile, but she knew too well that they never would while she was still in the equation. She couldn't remember them ever fighting about anything but her. If she was gone, there might be a chance that they would be happier together. Even if they didn't, Nona couldn't stop thinking about how Papa had struck Mama. He loved her, but he had hit her. And so hard. Because of Nona. She'd never seen that side of her father before and she never wanted to see it again. It was easy to find the big building they'd passed on the way in. It was one of the few structures still standing and relatively intact in that area of the City. She knew it from the Monday holocast announcing its opening. She'd almost pointed it out to her father, but then thought better of it. Better he didn't know. She stood on the sidewalk in front of the door, looking at the sign for a long time. She knew Papa would be looking for her. But there was one place he would not find her. It was better this way. Squaring her shoulders, Nona walked into the Conversion Bureau. *** Author's Note Some people are simply not equipped to deal with a child who deviates from the socially acceptable norm. Ruth Mizrahi is obviously one of those people. Her behavior is somewhat understandable, particularly in light of the coming apocalypse, but in no way does that excuse her actions. She tried to throw her daughter away like trash. No parent has the right to do that. It's no wonder Jacob, generally the most caring and patient of men, completely lost his shit.
The Sound Of Walking Away"I didn't want to just leave him like that…I know he must be awfully worried about me. I just didn't know what else to do." Nona took another sip of tea. "Even if he and Mama don't get back together…at least now he doesn't have to spend what time there is left worrying about what to do with me." She glanced around the garden, admiring the roses. She took a breath, savoring their sweet perfume. "I suppose I should contact him, let him know I'm all right…but I wouldn't know what to say to him. Especially…now." Celestia smiled gently at Nona. "You're right. You should at least let him know you're safe. I'm sure you can get a letter to him." "Should I tell him about…?" Nona waved a hoof. "That's up to you, my little pony. Of course, if you tell him where you are, it wouldn't be hard for him to guess." "Maybe he'll decide to Convert too…" Nona mused. "He might even be able to convince Mama, since they don't have to fight about me anymore." "That choice would be theirs to make, as you made your choice for yourself." When Nona opened her new eyes, the first thing she noticed was how bright the colors were. She rolled onto her belly and gazed around the conversion room in awe, admiring the gleam of light off the metal appliances, the vivid green of the disposal bin, the pristine cleanliness of the tiled floor. She barely heard Dr Pastern and Lynn telling her how pretty she was, although her ears perked up when the doctor explained that, as an Earth pony, she would be able to make things grow. "Like flowers?" she asked excitedly. "Real, living flowers?" "Flowers, trees, grass…even rocks." Nona's new jaw dropped. "Rocks?! Surely you can't be serious!" "I am serious, and don't call me 'Shirley'." The doctor grinned and winked at her. "Earth ponies can make anything organic or mineral grow. They're responsible for Equestrian agriculture, after all. They maintain the land just as pegasi control the weather." Nona considered this. "I think I'd rather grow flowers." Pastern laughed. "You can grow whatever you like. We could certainly use more flowers in the world." "Isn't her coat beautiful, Ros?" Lynn, the physician's assistant, stroked Nona's neck. "She's the prettiest shade of lilac." Nona perked up. "Lilac! That's my name. I love flowers and Lilac is a flower!" Lynn beamed. "And I love helping find names. Lilac it is!" Nona became thoughtful. She looked down at her hooves–sturdy, perfect for walking and trotting, more dexterous than she might have thought…but not very suitable for working a keyboard, or for writing. "Lynn…can you help me write a letter to my father?" Lynn was more than happy to help, then and there. She sat right down on the floor and took dictation from Nona–Lilac–while Dr Pastern tidied up the Conversion Room. Dear Papa, I want you to know that I'm fine. Better than fine. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. I didn't quite know how to explain my reasons, and I don't think you would have let me go anyway. I'm sorry if I hurt you. Please don't be too mad at Mama. She's scared, really scared, and I know she was only doing what she thought would be best for all of us. I'm a pony now, which is why I'm having someone else write this. I will learn to write again of course, but I wanted to send you this right away so you'll know I'm all right. I guess I really just wanted to let you know I'm okay, and to tell you that the stories about ponies not being the same people they were as a human aren't true at all. I'm still your daughter, but I'm called Lilac now. A flower name, of course. That should prove more than anything that I'm still me! I haven't been brainwashed or lobotomized. I'm still the same me, only I can talk to people a lot better now. Even strangers. That's a change for the better, isn't it? So maybe Conversion did rewire my brain, in a way, but it didn't change who I am inside. I love you both so much. Come see me if you want. Maybe you'll decide to convert too. I hope you will. I'll be watching for you. Love, Lilac (the pony formerly known as Nona who is still your daughter) When the letter was done, Lynn gave it to Alexi with directions to Jacob's office. He soon returned with news of a successful delivery. "When I confirmed his name, I put it right in his hand and walked away," he said. The next day, Lilac got a roommate, a pretty girl with chocolate skin called Ana. She was in a wheelchair, and didn't seem very good at working it, but didn't want any help either. Lilac didn't take her slights or jibes personally; Ana's legs had been crushed and healed very badly and she was in an awful lot of pain. She got better after Dr Pastern gave her a nerve block, and Ana didn't resist Lilac's gentle offers of help quite as stridently. Papa never wrote back, so Lilac began checking the lobby of Clinic 042 every morning, perusing the new applicants…hoping…always hoping to see a familiar face. Or two. A few days after her Conversion, Lilac noticed a girl about her own age sitting in a group of registered applicants. Well, she wasn't in the group, not really. She was sitting in the same area as the others, but somehow she seemed to be holding herself apart. Lilac remembered too well how that felt. Things were a lot better now. She loved talking to people, turning total strangers into new friends, sharing ideas and hopes and plans for the future. It was so much better not being alone. Alone was hard. And this new girl looked like she could really use a new friend. Lilac trotted over to the post-reg waiting area. As she approached, the skinny girl with curly hair turned to look at her. Lilac gave her a big welcoming smile. "Hi!" The girl looked startled, and Lilac hastened to reassure her. "I don't mean to bother you, it's just that you looked kind of upset. Are you okay?" "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you." The girl's eyes–such a pretty hazel, dark honey with green and gold flecks–darted back and forth as though looking for a way to escape. How well Lilac remembered that feeling! Poor girl, poor…what was her name, anyway? Of course, she'd probably pick a new name after she Converted, but for now she deserved to be known as more than just "the girl". Well, if you wanted to find out someone's name, wouldn't it only be polite to offer your own first? "My name's Lilac. Just Lilac. Some ponies have two names but I just picked one. Have you picked out a pony name yet?" "What? I…no. No I haven't." After a moment's pause, she added, "I'm Tib." "Tib? I like that!" Lilac couldn't help prancing in place. She did that a lot, these days. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Tib! You'll be coming to the cafeteria for lunch after the tour, right?" "Yes, I think that's what they said up front." "Great! We can have lunch together. Okay?" Lunch. There were going to be apples! Real Equestrian apples! That would be sure to put a smile on Tib's face. She'd better hurry to make sure they had some left. As she hurried past the front desk, the receptionist looked up from her work and smiled. Without slacking her pace, Lilac said, "Hey, Beth! I just made a new friend. Her name's Tib and she's super nice!" She cantered into the cafeteria, smiling at everyone she passed, and everyone smiled back. Making friends was so easy now, and she would someday live in a beautiful world full of green growing things. She would find a place to recreate her garden mural, this time with real, living, growing flowers. Lilac was happier than she'd ever imagined she could be. She was living her dream. But she never saw her father or mother again. The End Author's Note Yes indeed, the withdrawn and socially awkward Nona became Lilac, the joyously expressive pony who loves making friends more than anything. Conversion didn't change our heroine in any way except the purely physical. Not only did she get a new body, she got an upgrade on her wetware that cleared her neural pathways and let the beauty of her innermost spirit shine through. As I said in my first note on this story, I have several friends who are not neurotypical. Without exception, every single one of them is a bright, caring, compassionate person who finds innovative ways to express themselves and I can't help but admire their courage and determination to not only exist but to thrive in a world that is not equipped to handle them.
