Midnight

...when did I fall asleep?

It seems like a bizarre thing to consider as I start to become aware of my consciousness. But then again, sleep has become difficult for me to achieve – to have fallen asleep out of the blue is unheard of. My mind refuses to quiet down and sit idle ever since...

I'm still not sure what was done to me. I've gotten no explanation on the procedures undertaken, or what was meant to be accomplished. All I know is some sort of an implant was put into place in my head, and my brain has been on overdrive since that time.

It feels like I have to remain occupied all the time – I have to be reading or observing something. Very rarely do I sleep more than two or three hours at a time these days; more often than not, that's after an hour or two just laying there, demanding my mind just shut up and leave me be.

But whatever, I'm up now. It's just an oddity that I don't remember laying down...

My head hurts. It's a throbbing sort of headache, and probably the real reason why I woke up in the first place. Not exactly the way I want to start my day, but it is what it is.

I brace myself before cracking my eyelids open. I'm sure the fluorescent lighting doesn't help with my sleep issues, but waking up with their blinding light cast down from overhead is painful. I'd rather not aggravate the discomfort I'm enduring, so I take it slow...

I can feel myself easing my eyelids open, but nothing is changing. Darkness continues to fill my vision.

I snap my eyes closed again, then back open. The black abyss refuses to budge.

Fleeting, anxious thoughts begin to rattle off in my head as I try to make sense of the situation. Did they shut the lights off... no, there's no way it would be this pitch black. There would at least be emergency lighting available. It's not a blindfold, for I can't feel anything covering my face...

I raise up my head, trying a different angle at the world, but there is still nothing to greet me but an endless void. I turn my head to the left, then to the right, open and close my eyes repeatedly...

My head throbs a bit more in response to my efforts, but otherwise, my movements are in vain. My heart starts to race as realization starts to creep in.

Am... am I blind?

How am I suddenly unable to see?

"Sir, she's aw—"

"I'm standing right here. You don't think I can see her head spinning around?"

That second voice – I don't need my eyesight to discern it's that asshole. That utterly forgettable, even-toned voice is somehow recognizable in an instant, even if it weren't for the demeaning response directed toward one of his many lackeys.

I've heard the bald-headed beady-eyed dick's name before, but I've vowed to keep it from my vocabulary. More often than not, he doesn't bother with the names of his underlings, and he hasn't given me a proper name despite being in his 'care.' I'm just returning the favor here.

Judging by his volume and hollow, slight echoes accompanying his speech, the head honcho is in a familiar spot – right in front of the door to my room, speaking through the screen fitted on the upper end of it.

He's not hands on – that's work for his underlings to accomplish on his behalf. But the fact that he's here right now...

I know he's behind whatever has happened to my eyesight.

"What is going on?" I ask, trying to retain control of my emotions even as my heart thumps at a rapid pace. Despite my efforts, my voice comes out uneasy and wavering.

"According to our newest and most brilliant scientist, you're awake," Baldy crows with a bite of sarcasm – for both me and the 'new' guy.

I don't know if he's actually new, for people come and go all the time – particularly when they work directly with the head honcho here. He isn't a particularly warm person to deal with when in a 'good' mood, and a good mood for him is uncommon.

Nonetheless, there are more pressing matters than faculty.

"Why can I not see?" I demand in a slow, calculated tone, manhandling my emotions into some semblance of composure.

"Just some aftereffects of the procedure – I expected some temporary complications considering the invasiveness of the surgery," he answers in an almost carefree manner. "I'm sure the brain needs to adjust and sort of... connect with the new—"

"What the fuck did you do?!" I shout, unwilling to listen to his meandering explanation. There was nothing wrong with me that I'm aware of – why did I have surgery? Why wasn't I warned ahead of time?

"I was well on my way to explaining that until you interrupted me, Princess," he comments back in a sickening polite tone, one that oozes utter disdain under the surface.

I can't see, but I can make a rough estimate of the location of my room's door based on the positioning of his voice. I snap my attention toward that area and scowl to show my displeasure. But for the time being, I hold my tongue from unleashing my simmering temper.

"Much better," he coos, paying no mind to my expression. "As I was saying, your brain needs time to reconnect and mesh with the implants, and I'm certain there is some inflammation and swelling in the meantime as everything starts to heal. I'm sure your vision will return with time – I'm not surprised to hear of the temporary loss."

"That didn't explain a damn thing about what you fucked with," I growl.

"Language, Prin-cesss," he tsks, drawing.out that stupid little name he's grown accustomed to using for me. I hate it, and he loves to use it as a result. It's a running joke for him, pretending I'm special in his eyes. As if being selected for whatever experiments he has in mind to further...

...I don't even know what his goals are. For all I know, gawking at me in a glass tank and poking at me for his pleasure is all Baldy is after. I haven't been here long enough to overhear conversation on what the real reasoning behind this undertaking with me.

That's the joke behind it though. No princess would ever be subjected to a life like this. Locked in a fifty by fifty glass room as a lab rat to be studied. I was the first attempt to make a pony in the visage of a show character – but I'm not Princess Luna. They got everything wrong in my coloring, making the moniker an even sicker, double-layered joke that I've only recently been made aware.

"In the same vein as our prior work with you, I'm trying things that have the potential to better life as we know it. Human experiments are out of the question, even if they already lack eyesight, so... we replaced your eyes with prosthetics."

The casual commentary does little to prevent a chill from running up my spine. I scramble to my hooves – only to stumble on my bed and fall back to my stomach. "There was nothing fucking wrong with my eyes!" I scream in his direction. "What gives you the right to do something like this, you sick fuck?!"

I hear him slap the glass in retaliation for my outburst. "I gave myself the right, Princess – and I won't stand to have you shouting at me like you're the one in charge!" he barks in anger. "You're already a reject of the program because you didn't come out right – the least I can do is make you useful!"

"And what if you fucked me up for good?! What if I don't get my vision back, asshole?!"

"I told you to cut the fucking language."

"Oh, I'm sorry, only the big boy in charge gets to use naughty language?! My mistake. You use it so freely toward the other labcoats when they piss you off, I assumed it was free for all," I sass back, my 'eyes' beginning to water.

"I have the ability to cancel this project at any time, so watch your tone, Princess," he growls back. "You will get your eyesight back, I spearheaded this procedure myself. And if it doesn't – we'll dig and find out what went wrong."

"Digging through my brains like a little fucking scavenger hunt, that's really reassuring."

"I don't have to help you if the experiment doesn't work if you're going to act like a petulant child," he lectures. "We brought you into this world, you belong to this company, and you've been assigned to me whether you like it or not. You want to sit there and feel sorry for yourself, fine – but don't blame my work for your failures."

My failures... as if I'm to blame for having my perfectly functional emerald eyes ripped out of my head and replaced with some googly replicas. As if I'm in control of whether these fucking things inevitable start to take in the world around me, or if they're left as paperweights occupying empty space in the orbital sockets of my skull...

Some of those words feel foreign to think, but they make sense. At this point, I don't fucking care anyway.

Is this really what life amounts to? A series of experiments for the gain of someone else? I don't give a damn about 'the greater good' or whatever he's trying to spout. I don't believe a word coming from his mouth.

Part of me wants to just... give up. Die. Make the time and money spent so far an absolute waste of resources, just to spite him. Really, if this is all I have to expect moving forward... why would I want to keep going?

...I don't have a clear answer to that. Rolling over and giving up doesn't feel right, for one. And being labeled a failure again...

None of this is in my control. I'm not a failure for things out of my control. I won't stand for taking that blame.

My head is starting to hurt worse now with the increase in blood pressure as I try to tamp down my emotions again. At this point... I just want everyone to fuck off.

"Sir, maybe we should leave her be for a while?" comes the coincidental suggestion from the other guy. "The stress probably won't be very good for her recovery from, uh... well, the procedure you did, I guess."

"I wasn't aware you were a doctor, newbie. How many years of medical school?" Baldy questions. Again, it's a tone of voice that makes it clear he's talking down to the young man.

"I... well, I'm a biologist," he resigns with a sigh.

"Then leave that kind of thinking to me, Johnson – you'll look less stupid that way going forward," the boss mutters.

"Right. Sorry, Sir."

"And make sure you're keeping notes on this shit. I want details on her conditions when she awoke, and anything you can get out of her in terms of how she feels right now, and everything that we do with her going forward. As you can see, she can be moody."

"Can't imagine why that would be," I bitterly comment.

"I've got more important things to do that stand here and wait for her to improve. Take some notes, then head to my office and drop them off, and we'll go from there. I'm sure the suits have more paperwork for me to bore myself with." On that bitter lamentation, I hear footsteps begin to quiet and they get more distant from my room.

But only one pair of footstep; I may be blind, but I can sense the new guy is still standing there, gawking at me like a kid at the zoo. I just lay there on my bed, awaiting his inane questioning directed by his superior. For a few moments, I can just make out what I assume is the sound of the man scrawling down notes in a journal.

Then, awkward silence.

"You got a fucking job to do, get it over with and leave me be," I belt out in frustration.

"Right, I... Sorry," he stammers nervously. "Are you feeling any pain or discomfort waking up? Any other effects?"

"My head hurts and I can't fucking see."

"How would you rate the pain?"

"Seven I guess. Make sure you write down I can't see anything but endless black, too."

"I... right. So no vision... at all."

I'm certain he is new just based on his awkwardness. There's no way he came from another part of this facility – he's a fresh hire, and probably wondering what he got himself into.

That's not my problem. If he's like any of the others, he'll harden up in time. No one here actually cares about the ponies under their care.

...I vaguely remember others, and once in a while, I see one. But I don't know... was I ever with them?

"Are you okay?"

"You just asked me about pain and side effects, what the fuck else do you want?" I bark, growing impatient my the second. "I'm fucking peachy, having a lovely day after a restful nap. Is that good?"

"I'm...I'm sorry," he mumbles forlornly. "Sorry that you're... dealing with this."

"I'm sure you're just as sorry as everyone else is. Now leave me the fuck alone. You got what you wanted, go get the boss a coffee like a good little helper."

He says nothing else upon my barbed response. After another few seconds, I hear him trudge off down the hall.

With no one around— I can't anymore. This is just too much as I lay my head down, close my eyes, and just let go. I let go of my pain and my anger, my misery and my fear as it washes out from my useless eyes and down my cheeks. I snuggle up to try to hide from the world...

Snuggled with... wait...

I open my eyes again – no, for the first time. The first time tonight, since falling asleep.

I'm in bed. Snuggled underneath John's arm and laying beside him. While it may have once been reality, I've been having a nightmare this entire time.

That knowledge doesn't do much good in drying off my dampened pillow now – but at least it was just a dream this time. Careful not to wake John, I raise a hoof to wipe one eye and cheek, while my pillow is resigned to its fate as a drying towel for the rest of my face.

It's been a long time since I've had a proper nightmare. I'd rather this stay a rare occurrence. But especially when they're nothing short of reliving a memory...