Midnight

I'm still in the midst of the first job with Starla as my sidekick, but one thing has become abundantly clear – she really enjoys asking questions. But that isn't a bad thing; I'm enjoying having someone with such an inquisitive mind speaking up and wanting to learn more about... well, everything.

"It's crazy how bright and shiny they made everything back in this era of cars," Starla comments in regard to the chrome instrument bezel I'm fighting with.

"Yeah, a lot of glitz and glamor these older cars," I agree with a chuckle. "Especially towards the end of this decade – seems like everything was slathered in chrome and stainless, from household appliances to the cars rolling off the assembling lines in Detroit."

"Do... did these get manufactured in your lifetime?" Starla asks.

The question makes me laugh, just from the sudden and rather absurd nature of it combined with Starla's wavering voice and awkward facial expression. "How old do you think I am?" I tease her, making sure to offer a grin to let her know I'm not at all offended.

"Well... I don't really know, I guess," she admits with more caution than a moment ago. "I really don't know what this car is, or the decade it was made in. And time is... it's a notion I still find a bit hard to grasp."

The last bit of her confession spurs my interest, especially combined with her relative naivety. "Well, how old are you?"

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Starla displays a subtle cringe toward my inquiry almost immediately, followed by a shrug of the shoulders.

"Just thought I'd ask. It seems you and Midnight have that in common – you're both adults, but age isn't a number."

"Teddy could probably give you a rough estimate of my age since he started working with me pretty early on," Starla adds, bringing a hoof to her chin. "But it's not something that has ever come up in discussion, now that I think of it."

"It's not really important in the grand scheme of things – I dunno, you just got me a bit curious," I explain, hesitating for a moment. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable with personal questions, though."

"Oh, you're quite alright – it was just a question I hadn't expected," she reassures me, relaxing her posture. "But that's the good thing about us teaming up – we can get to know each other better than just friends of Midnight... though I suppose the friendship between the two of you goes a bit deeper. But as long as I get to ask questions in return – ask away."

Of course, my brain decides to pick this moment in time to forget the question I had brewing, leaving me in an awkward position as Starla patiently awaits my opening Salvo.

"Well, I technically did ask a question about you already, so why don't you go ahead?" I suggest, trying to save face rather than admit my brainfart.

Starla tips her head side to side as she begins to mull what she wants to hear from me first. It gives me some time to start looking around at the dashboard for any fasteners I may have missed preventing me from pulling the instrument cluster.

"I know – Midnight told me you weren't a fan of ponies at all the you two first met. What changed that?"

"Wow, we're going right to the deep insightful stuff right away, huh?" I joke. "I suppose the simple answer of 'Midnight changed my mind' isn't what you're looking for, either."

Starla shakes her head. "Mind you, I don't intend for this to sound mean – but it is a little odd that Midnight was the one to change your mind. She had a rather prickly personality when I first met her – and from what she and you have told me, that was an improvement," she explains.

With an improved understanding of why this is a question, I can't help but hum in amusement at the first thing that comes to my mind, as cryptic as it may be. "Misery loves company."

Starla's brow furrows as she attempts to discern what I just said and how it relates to her question. Meanwhile, one pesky clip on the dashboard finally reveals itself to my eyes after about the fifth time overlooking the metal fastener, and I finally have the instrument cluster and bezel of this Mercury free in my hands... aside from wire hookups.

It also brings along a cloud of dust that had accumulated over the years. It forces both Starla and me to squint, holding off on further discussion as we hold our breaths while the fine particles dissipate.

"I guess the best way for me to answer that is to start with my own question," I begin, letting the cluster hang from the wires that still hold it back from full removal. "How much does Midnight really talk about me?"

"More than she used to when we first started chatting – back then, it was never," Starla responds with a hushed laugh. "I think she still feels a bit embarrassed talking about you with me – and I don't help matters when I take the time to tease her about it."

"No, that probably works in the opposite direction, you bully," I remark, wagging my finger as if to scold her.

Starla snickers at the reaction I give her, remaining unapologetic. "It's silly how spun up she gets about any sort of discussion regarding your relationship. Before I always thought it was a matter of Midnight seeing herself... sort of above you. But that isn't the case, certainly not in the last month."

"Well, I don't blame you for teasing her about it – as you can tell, I like to get her all flustered, too. But fun pastimes aside, since she doesn't talk much about me, I suppose the intricacies of my junkyard business aren't up for discussion much, either."

As expected, Starla shakes her head. "Sometimes she talks about a stubborn job she had or something rare you two came across, but that's about it. A lot of the subject matter goes over my head – so I don't ask too many questions when it comes to that topic."

Starla pauses, suddenly distracted by a fleeting thought. "She's mentioned that she's been a big part of turning this place around if that counts – she is proud of that," she adds. "I know she tends to exaggerate, so I don't know how true that is, or what exactly that all entails."

Figuring I ought to get this job wrapped up already, I start reaching behind the instrument panel and fumbling for wire hookups that need to be removed. It's a tall task that comes down to feel, as the cluster only pulls out enough for my hands to squeeze in. "There isn't much exaggeration in that claim," I grunt as freeing one plug results in my hand hitting something back in the depths. "If it weren't for Midnight showing up and berating me in order to get my shit together and go with her plan, I probably wouldn't be here in a year's time. Like her, I wasn't in a good place – so it ended up being like two bitter individuals brightening up each other's lives."

"Really?" Starla spouts as incredulity causes her to recoil away from me. "I've never gotten that sort of impression from you. You're always in an upbeat, joking mood."

"Well, that was also a time before I met you," I remind her. "And yeah, Midnight was even more unpleasant to deal with before you met her, too – though by the sounds of it, you already sort of assumed that was the case."

"She's also been rather open about her past attitude with me. There's a bit of regret in how she's treated... well, all of us, at one point or another," Starla concedes, her voice lowing as she hits a more somber note in this discussion. "Mid just has a hard time letting go of some things, doesn't she?"

"That she does. Always has been one to hold onto specific memories and events, for better or worse. But she has improved on that – which has been a recent development."

Something else continues to hold back the cluster in my hands – and while I can feel another electrical plug, it refuses to budge. I decide I'm done asking nicely as I pull my hands free and reach for tools from my bag on the seat.

Starla swats at my hand with a deft hoof. "Ah ah – I'm the tool mare," she scolds. "What do you need?"

"My bad – force of habit. Need a pair of side-cutters – basically look like pliers that you gave me earlier, but made for snipping wires. I'm done getting my hands chewed up." For added emphasis, I display the fresh scrapes on the back of my hand for Starla to see.

"Ow – that doesn't look good," she laments before diving headfirst into my collection of tools as if it's a party game. A moment later, she rises back up with my request clutched between her teeth.

"I'm not a fan of busting my knuckles, but it does come with the territory – I'm used to it," I concede as she eyes my dinged-up hand before releasing the side-cutters into my palm. "Thank you."

"No problem – but can I ask another question about Midnight?"

"Sure – I'm not really keeping score of how many questions are being asked by us."

"What did you do to help Midnight turn over a new leaf? Like you said, as of recent she's been so much more... relaxed. She's willing to be more open," Starla explains. "She's just less... angry."

"So that's carried over beyond just what I experience, huh?" I comment, reaching into the abyss with a tool to end the fight once and for all. "Midnight herself just got tired of... she realized how much she was clinging to what used to be and how it was making her angry. So she let go and buried in on her own accord."

"I feel like you played a big part in it, even if the final decision was hers."

"You might be right – maybe try suggesting that to her later and see what kind of an answer you get," I joke, despite feeling a little warm in the face all of a sudden. The cutters in my hand find the small bundle of wires I had been fighting with before, and a few snips later, the instrument cluster is finally free – aside from the speedometer cable. That in itself falls off as the ancient clip gives up once the wire is pulled taut.

"Well, I've fought with much worse dashboards, so I can't complain too much – now I just have to make sure everything works," I comment as I set the piece facedown on the seat next to me.

Starla leans in to get a better look at the back of it, ogling the pins and hookups present that are normally hidden away. "How will you test it all out?"

"I'll hook up a battery to each of these connections one at a time and make sure the needles move – other than the speedometer," I say, pointing to the large circular metal slot. "Gonna have to find something to fit in there and spin it with a drill."

"How does the needle normally get driven?"

"Well, that big cable plugged into this slot," I say, motioning to the gaping hole in the dash where the cable lies. "That cable runs through the firewall, down to the transmission where it hooks up to a gear inside the transmission where it meshes..."

I trail off as Starla's eager nodding from the beginning halts. Her eyes glaze over with the information and terms I'm unloading all at once upon her.

"In fundamental terms, the cable is driven by the spinning parts in the transmission when the car is moving," I wrap up quickly. "Midnight would probably do a better job explaining it than me – if you're still curious, you could ask her tonight."

"I might do that," Starla replies after shaking her mind free of the gibberish that I had unleashed. "She does do a good job of explaining how things like that work – and she gets really excited and passionate about it."

"So you get lectures from time to time during your video chats?"

A knowing smirk gives me my answer before Starla emits a light chuckle. "I think I've asked enough questions about you and Midnight – you're overdue to ask me something," she says, bouncing up and down on the bench seat in anticipation.

It's that sudden surge of excitement that brings a question to the forefront of my mind now. "Well, speaking of mood... I find it cute and at the same time so surprising how upbeat you are, at least compared to how Midnight was. Have you always been this positive, or was there a time of adjustment like Mid?"

Like a switch being flipped, Starla instantly stops her fidgeting. Her delighted face washes away to be replaced by a serious, concentrated face as she thinks over her answer.

"I think it goes without saying I am happier now than when I was – well, let's not sugarcoat it – when I was an experiment," she says, adding a light chuckle that is out of place and frankly, a bit forced. "The first few days that I remember were unsettling, being poked and prodded with no idea what was going on or why. Those are my first memories, and they weren't pleasant. It didn't help matters that these people were discussing things and asking me questions that I couldn't understand. What I did understand was how they kept focusing on my forelegs... the ones that I couldn't do anything with..." Through this reflection, Starla's voice gradually drops in volume. By the time she pauses, she's speaking barely above a whisper with her head hanging noticeably lower than before.

"Hey, I'm sorry – I didn't mean to dig into bad memories of the past," I console her, quickly wiping a hand on my shirt to offer her a pat.

"I— no, you're fine," Starla responds, almost apologetic as she snaps free of her temporary trance and flashes a heartfelt little grin as she looks at me again. "It's not a subject I've given thought to for a while. It's sobering to remember where I came from, but it helps to put things in perspective, too. And Teddy came along... well, again, time is something sort of hard for me to grasp. But from everything that I remember, I don't have many memories without him, so he must have come early on. I don't think I spent much time isolated."

"Wait, you were kept isolated like Midnight was?"

Starla's mouth contorts as she processes how to answer. "It... kinda was isolation like Midnight, I guess. From what she's told me, they had open areas for the ponies where she came from. I don't believe my lab was like that," she slowly responds while scouring her memory. "I recall other ponies from time to time... I guess in passing. But regardless, I think my isolation was mainly due to my front legs. I really couldn't walk – someone came up with a two-wheeled dolly or wheelchair of sorts for my front legs so I could move. But I still need help into that contraption, and it still made me a bit of a liability."

While Teddy said he had continued to come up with reasons to keep Starla as a viable test subject until he could smuggle her out, Starla's description really gives that backstory some proper structure. In a way, it makes her survival all the more impressive, a testament to the willpower and determination of both of them. While it may be a bit heartwarming in that sense, this ended up being a darker conversation than I ever intended to have, and I feel a bit sick asking about such things now.

But before I can sink too far into those dour thoughts, a pat on my leg from a pink hoof draws me back to the present. "It's okay," Starla affirms, smiling again as I meet her eyes. "That was a long time ago, and it's just distant memories that can do no harm. Going through that helped shape me into... well, the me of today. I guess that's why I always try to have a bright outlook – every day really is a gift compared to the past and what it could have led to."

"That— that is a really good way to look at it," I stammer, a bit awestruck by the sudden flash of wisdom in her words. "Midnight has a wonderful life coach for a friend in you."

"Oh, no stop that," she giggles, waving me away as her cheeks flush with a hint of red. "I think you've done more than I have to bring her around – not to mention her own driven self-improvement."

Flattery aside, this up-and-down conversation with strong emotions starts to get the wheels in my head turning. Maybe this isn't the first sensitive discussion of the day...

"Were you two sharing some details of your pasts earlier today?" I cautiously suggest. "Was that why Midnight needed some time to think?"

Starla begins to protest but halts as soon as her mouth opens. Instead, she shrinks back just a bit in shame. "It's... something like that, I suppose. But that's as much as I'm willing to say because I don't feel like it's right for me to share," she replies, remaining adamant. "But she really did need – I know she has things on her mind she really wants to think through now. She was telling the truth on that."

I can't help but release a heavy sigh. Midnight dwelling on her past can't be healthy – what reason could there be for her to do that?

"Thanks for giving me at least that little tidbit, even if you didn't mean for it to happen. Of course, now it just makes me more anxious – I want to go hunt her down right now and start asking questions."

"Believe me, I get it, but— well, I think if it was something she was really struggling with or bothering her, she would have spoken up about it. Yes, we had a serious discussion that started her mind going, but we had some good laughs and conversation after it, too. I was as surprised as you that she wanted to solo, but I'm glad we've gotten this time to talk to each other."

"Yeah, that makes two of us. Sorry if I suddenly seem like I'm focused on her, by the way. I never meant for the conversation to go down this route."

Starla scoffs at my apology without missing a beat. "Don't be ridiculous, John – there's no reason to be sorry. I know you love and care about Midnight, and considering the circumstances... I'd be surprised if your mind didn't venture to her. Like I said, I have my own concerns – but more importantly, right now, I want to see if we can match her."

"'Match her?' What do you mean?"

"Meet or even surpass what she and I were able to get pulled earlier!" Starla exclaims, aghast by my lack of understanding – or just so excited that every reaction is magnified. "I want to be the MVP of the day, and helping you catch up at the very least makes me a good candidate for that award. Now, I'll gather up the tools here, while you take that... er..."

"Instrument cluster?" I suggest, picking it up off the seat.

"Yes. Take that back to the truck, and I'll meet you there!"

It's such a silly idea, but nonetheless quite amusing as Starla starts to gather up the tools scattered about the seat and the floor. And maybe there's good reason to run with Starla's scheme – she really laid on the cockiness when I had only managed to get the Marauder grille up to that point.

Yeah, a good time to show her up if there ever was one. I get my own rear into gear and climb out of the Mercury, carefully closing the driver's door behind me as Starla begins tossing hand tools into my bag one at a time.

I still have my concerns about her, but right now, I'd really like to beat Midnight's haul for the day – there's a good chance she's arrogant enough to slack on her pace, giving me and Starla a chance to get ahead.

Speaking of which, hoofbeats are already beginning to get louder behind me – and then Starla blazes past me, toolbag clenched between her teeth with her vibrant yellow and orange mane lashing behind like licking flames. She slows up to turn and look at me. "Come on, you gotta pick up the pace!" she cries.

"You ponies keep forgetting you have two more legs than me," I wisecrack.

"Teddy could move faster than you, and he's turning grey!"

Ouch...

"You getting insult lessons from Midnight in return for your life coaching?"

"Nah, just learning on my own!"