A loud, hideous crackle bursts from the speaker above, and I snap to attention.
There’s no clock to be found on the walls around me. No windows to let in outside light, either; just a faint electric glow somewhere above. I have no idea how long I’ve been here.
Beside me, my colleagues, tied to dingy uncomfortable chairs, are roused from their delirious stupor. Mostly. Two had tried kicking out their seats from underneath them, only to knock themselves out on the concrete floor.
Her voice finally comes through the crackle. “Rise and shine, professors! Anyone have something to say?”
Around me, there are several shows of defiance. “You’re insane!”, “Let us out!”, “What the hell is wrong with you!”, and such. I can’t bring myself to join them.
“Hmm, not sure what to do with that,” the staticky voice replies. “Guess we’ll have to just talk it out!”
The speaker goes dead, and behind us, I hear a door open. There’s the briefest glimpse of outside light before a slam cuts it off.
The defiance becomes desperation. A lone word bounces around the room. “Please…”
I spoke it, too. But a small little giggle immediately reveals it didn’t matter.
“You know,” she says as footfalls echo behind us, “this all could’ve been avoided if you’d just accepted my thesis…”
She pauses.
“Huh. Looks like those two could’ve used some medical attention. Oh well.”
Against my better judgment, I mumble something. “Are– are they…”
My voice fades to nothing. For a moment, there’s silence. Then more footfalls.
Then there’s breath, right against my ears. And hands on my shoulders.
I yelp as she steps out from behind and straddles my lap, face to face. She bears a wicked grin as I squirm under her.
“Are they dead?” she hisses, still giggling as I sweat.
Feebly, I nod.
She stands up, then merely shrugs as she walks away. “Doubt it. Would probably smell a lot worse in here if they were. You know, all those things dead bodies do.”
I watch as she continues toward the shadows across the room. It’s an absurd sight – a girl in her early twenties, thick bangs over her forehead, wearing the same clothes you’d have seen her wearing all around campus. No mask, no disguise, nothing.
Just Starlight Glimmer.
“The good news,” she continues, “is that you won’t have to be here much longer, and they’ll get all the help they’ll need. And you’ll get to be research pioneers with me! Isn’t it great?”
A voice to my right speaks up again. “You can’t… it’s madness–”
“Ugggghhhhh,” Starlight moaned, whirling about. “You know, I’d thought you academics were supposed to be the ones open to new ideas. But you’re just as full of shit as everyone else. So stupid. So blind.”
“You of all people should know–”
“I of all people?” Starlight storms back toward the chairs, and I can’t bring myself to look over once she leaves my field of vision.
But I still hear it all.
“I of all people,” she says, now off to my right. “I am the only one who does know. Everyone else in this world doesn’t see it. Won’t see it. Refuses to see it. What all this magic is doing to our world!
“I used to think I was mad. I would hear all the news out of Canterlot City. See the footage. It was shocking, horrifying. My friends all thought it was fake at first. I wanted to think so too. But soon enough, everyone knew it was all real. The school. The camp. The mall. The park. The boat. The festival. All of it. And it just kept coming… and what did people do?”
Another horrible silence.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me.”
Starlight clears her throat, and I can hear her take a breath.
“WHAT DID PEOPLE DO?!!”
Before anyone can respond, Starlight steps away once more, far enough for all to see. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as we fail to answer.
“Nothing. The answer is nothing. Magic is just here now. But don’t worry, the high school kids have it under control. You know, in between their classes and their band tour. I just… why isn’t this the story of the century? Why has this not redefined the way we think of reality?”
Her eyes run down the line of chairs, gaze piercing.
“I almost did go mad, thinking it must have been some huge government conspiracy. But I realized, no, no, that can’t be right. With this government? No, it’s got to be something more simple. More fundamental.”
She looks right at me.
“Apathy.”
I flinch as she marches between me and the adjacent chair, back toward the far door. I hesitantly crane my neck around to watch, and notice, just beside the door, a large staff.
“Apathy is your shelter. Your protection. A cozy little dream that saves you the burden of having to think about what a world with magic means. And I get it. It must feel good, to be able to see superpowered teenagers breaking the laws of physics and then going on with your day. But one day, if I don't fix it, it won’t.”
She reaches the door and grabs the staff. I can see it’s as tall as her.
And then, suddenly, I find my voice. “Wh-what is that?”
Starlight smirks, striding my way. “Oh, this? I thought you’d have remembered it from my thesis. If you’ll recall, I’ve been doing a little thaumaturgical research in Canterlot. To understand what it is we’re dealing with. And now, I've found the cure.”
She presses the staff right under my chin.
“If I’m going to fight the nightmare the world has become…”
I try to speak, but my mouth doesn’t move. I can’t blink. I feel itching all inside me, I feel my very essence, draining…
And as I lose myself, I can still hear the last words.
“...then I can’t let you dream anymore.”
