Laundry day.

Two days have passed since Barnon slammed the door on the purple pony. He hadn't touched his Macrowave since, and had been cooking things in the oven. Wasn't as fast or convenient, but he would survive this trial.

Standing in naut but his boxers, Barnon shoves his three, entirely similar jumpsuits into the small Wash&Dry receptacle thats tucked beside his smart toilet. Laundry day was every time each of his jumpsuits had a smell to them, or the day before he arrived for a job. Still five days out from his contract, he had another two laundry days ahead of him, before he reached that deposit.

The bathroom pod door hisses shut as Barnon leaves, stretching. Having caught up on Gorgut, he was in a bit of a run for what to do. No new games that caught his eye had come out, and he wasn't in the mood for anything specific.

He tsks, meandering by the kitchen.

He pauses.

His gaze slowly flicks to the Macrowave.

... He wondered if the purple horse would be there, if he opened it. Or would he see a closed door?

"Computer?" Barnon asks aloud.

"Yes, Bitch?" It chirps back.

"How unhealthy is repeated interaction with Reality-Bending Anomalies?" He asks rhetorically. He didn't really care for an answer. He was just trying to decide if he actually wanted to face the weird thing, or if he was just that bored.

"No current health tracking for interaction with Dimensional, Reality-Bending, Time-And-Space or Vertical Anomalies. The topic of Anomalies is best discussed with Spamazon Support Staff. Would you like me to contact their Support Line, Bitch?" It beeps, waiting.

"...Nah."

The computer beeps with affirmation and Barnon is alone again.

He purses his lip. Chews it. Mulls.

It was a burrito thief.

... But he may have been too mean. A little. Only a smidge.

Barnon tsks, mind made up. He pokes the button, and watches the door swing open.

He sees the inside door to a Microwave. Huh. But still no inside, like it was just door to door.

He reaches up, and knocks against it a few times with his knuckles.

He waits.

Barnon scratches his nose.

He knocks again.

He waits.

Meh, he shrugs. Waste of--

He tilts his head slightly. He hears slow, tentative steps. Approaching. As they get close to the door...

Silence again.

Another knock from Barnon.

As his hand lowers, the door to the Microwave slowly opens, purple horse on the other side.

And she looks fucking terrible.

Bags under her eyes, like she hasn't slept in two days. Said eyes are raw -- has she been crying? Mane looks kind of greasy.. oh, she's got a fucking horn. Purple Unicorn, not horse. No idea how he didn't notice that. Makes... sense? Not really? Said something about a spell and was holding his burrito without hands. Or hooves. Or whatever. Alright, purple magic Unicorn in his Macrowave. That's probably a whole new section on Spamazon.

Barbon can see past her that there's several tubs of ice cream sitting on a table, and several boxes of tissues.

Did he do that? Yikes. Guilt settles in his stomach, as the two apprehensively stare at each other.

"...You, uh... good?" Barnon asks quietly.

Purple Unicorn is silent for a long moment, before weakly nodding.

Barnon purses his lips. He wasn't good at this kind of stuff, he was used to calling people slurs on holoboards. He named his ship after shitposts, for fucks sake.
"...Sorry, if I -- no, I was pretty mean to you."

"...Y-you were." She says quietly, though it hardly sounds accusatory.

"...You were making a burrito too, right?" He asks. She dry heaves, getting a concerned look from Barnon.

"I think whatever... happened, meant you got my burrito, though I don't know where yours went. Sorry, you... ate... I won't say it." He trails off.

"...It was good. I hate how good it was. I didn't even notice. It feels... wrong." She mumbles. "Good Ponies don't eat... other living things. I don't know what the Princess would think of me if she..." She trails off, tears forming in the corners of her already red eyes.

Woah, alright. Lot to process there. Try to reel it in, Barnon.
"I, uh... don't know if its any consolation, but... you said you're a 'Pony', right?"

She nods weakly, sniffling.

"To me, you look like something from my world called Horses. And even though they're Herbivores, most Herbivores in my planet were... opportunistically carnivorous? Like, they'd eat a little meat if they ever came across it." He tries explaining.

She listens, lip wobbling. "So they just... kill and eat other sentient things?"

Oop. That's not helping. "Uh... everything that the Burrito was made out of is pretty stupid, actually. Like, can't speak stupid. Unevolved stupid." Barnon tries to explain, hoping that'd help instead.

Purple Unicorn is processing. She doesn't seem any better... but doesn't seem any worse?

"...So you don't kill and eat things that can talk? Neither do these 'Horses'?" She asks quietly.

"I just buy the thing and heat it up. I've never killed a thing in my life. And Horses are one of the dumb things, too." He shrugs. "Not that I'm trying to call you a dumb thing, or anything."

She rubs a hoof against her eyes, drying the tears.
"...I'm Twilight. Can I ask your name?"

"Barnon. Good to, uh... meet you, Macrowave buddy." Barnon hums.

"It's Microwave." She retorts weakly, the smallest hint of a smile showing. Before she dry heaves again.

Barnon lays in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Twilight Sparkle, student of the Princess of the Sun, was in his Macrowave.

A fair bit torn up about eating meat, they talked a bit longer about it. Seemed to help her process it a little better, but it primarily stemmed from her personal self-dislike of how she had enjoyed the taste without realizing. They're apparently pretty hard-core herbivore around there, so that saddled her with some pretty existential questions about herself. Might be a topic that comes up later. Or not -- and she might want to forget she ever touched the thing.

They exchanged some basic info. There's definitely a severe technological gap.

Apparently, Twilight's leading theory is this whole situation was caused because of a 'Spell' Twilight had cast on her own food, when they were cooking their burritos. Something about a one in billion timing sparked by another one in billion match of energy, like that "run into a wall enough times and your atoms might perfectly align and you'll slip right through" type shit. Barnon would spare his brain the strain of thinking about it any longer.

His searches on the net didn't get him any closer to answers, either. His Macrowave wasn't a defective brand. Purple Unicorn was a website for a very particular activity with aliens, so no leads there. ~~Barnon may or may not have bookmarked it.~~ And no, no Unicorn repellant. He did find how to disable the Anomaly warning though. That was a conversation he wasn't terribly keen on having. Space age call centers were not great. Part of Barnon wondered if that might bite him in the ass later, if he ever stumbled on another Anomaly. But what were the chances of that?

Barnon still felt bad. He could tell their talk helped, but... Twilight had told him this was a pretty big fuck up for her, and in the midst of what was basically a panic attack, he'd doubled down on her, leaving her to stew on that for two days. She appreciated him knocking though. She asked if they could talk again soon, but asked him not to knock again until she gave the go-ahead; keeping this whole thing as their secret.

He tilts his head, looking at the clock. Its been a few hours since their last conversation...

With a grunt, he rolls off the bed for the Macrowave. When he opens it, Twilight is already nearby, fidgeting with her hooves; like she was debating on knocking. They might be more similar than he thought.

"Hey, Twi." Barnon whispers.

Her ears flicker as she perks up, looking over. She trots up, climbing onto her kitchen counter, putting her face close to the door, smiling softly. She looked better, the red under her eyes faded.
"Hello, Barnon." She whispers back. "Why are we whispering?"

"Oh, I didn't know if that whole 'secret' thing meant we had to be quiet or something." Barnon shrugs.

The Purple Pony stifles a giggle with her hoof.

Maybe having someone to talk to wouldn't be so bad.

Author's Note