Mirror: Book I - Mind

ACT II

Reminiscence

There in the deep, dark, black void existed a thump. A consistent noise pounding against the walls over and over again. The thumping continued on until he could barely open his eyes, the light shining through the windows blinding him so, and soon enough the thump, thump, thumping upon the walls pounded against his head.

Thump, thump, thump.
And soon, those thumps were replaced by blunt strikes of pain.

He groaned irritably, pressed a palm to his head, only to make the headache worse. What the hell happened last night? The boy wondered. His left leg was the only remaining limb on top of his bed, the rest of his body draping over the side and onto the floor, dragging his pillow and blanket down with him, and strangely enough his head had been placed at the foot end of the bed. He dared to open his eyes against the harsh sunlight, pinching them tight once more, the thumping growing louder, harder, more painful and unbearable. And just like that, his memories clicked back together.

Princess Luna. The sights, the dream, the sounds, everything that had happened, and all prior to the event he had forgotten like a telling lost to time. Whatever the Princess had told him, whatever her words had meant, they hardly made any sense.

“Look north…and see the moon?” He mumbled in remembrance. He strained and gripped his head again. “That doesn’t even make sense, why would the moon ever be towards north?”

And for the umpteenth time in his journey in this new, strange world thus far, the boy found himself reconsidering the nuances that was the magical land of Equestria, and denying its existence all over once again. So what if he had woken up in the same, short bed for yet another count that which he had by far lost the number of? So what if everything his eyes and ears were telling him were as real as the hand plastered over his face? He wiped his palm downwards and pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning again in an attempt to drown out the thumping and pounding within the walls of his head, but alas they would not cease. There was an ache in his belly, a sting about his breath, some bad mixtures of age-old liquid dripping from the tip of his tongue. It only took one, reluctant look in the mirror for him to finally understand what had happened.

Hangover. He surmised. I got a hangover, in Equestria of all places.

Desperate attempts of persuasion invaded his mind as he struggled to his feet and lumbered towards the door. He retold himself as many times as he would need to, over and over again he told himself that as soon as he twisted that nob and ducked beneath the frame, the over-colored sights would clear away and reveal his hallway back home on Earth. His home, his possessions, his family and his friends, it would all be there. Someday, somehow, he would get there. David gripped the nob firmly, twisted, and pushed past the portal.

Princess Twilight remained as still as she possibly could as she wore a blindfold over her face, her ears muffled and her muzzle shut tight. The low, buzzing hum of the power generator and the clicks emanating from the seismometer were the only sounds to fill the library, aside from the occasional shuffling of Doctor Whooves, whom was also maintaining a stoic, still stature in the midst of the first test. Whooves watched closely as Twilight’s muzzle twitched ever so slightly, her left hoof kicked lightly and her right tapped against the armrest of the chair faster than he could fathom.

Involuntary reflexes? The Doctor supposed.

He studied the seismograph’s progress and compared it to four key points in tandem with her brainwave patterns being recorded on the monitor displayed above. The seismograph’s spikes and squiggles were consistent throughout, save for the four points on the graph with ridiculously high frequency results, evenly spaced out along the time frame displayed below. Every time a high spike kicked in, Twilight’s brainwave patterns switched phases. Positive to negative, negative to positive, as the Doctor had put it. Like flipping a light switch from open to closed and vice versa, which was fascinating enough to imply that Twilight’s brain, or even anypony’s brain for that matter would become completely inactive for a short, unprecedented period of time. And yet, the body would still move, the senses would still function properly. The brain, it seemed, was almost a conduit in and of itself.

The Doctor’s mind wandered back to his conversation held with Rose Luck the afternoon of yesterday. He remembered her stating clearly that there were no comparisons to be held between “living” and “non-living” entities, how a tree and a pony both might be living things, but a rock was no different from a machine. Just a lifeless machine, aimlessly ticking away. And yet, here was the Princess of Friendship’s brain, ticking away like that of an organic machine…

How interesting. The Doctor thought. How interesting indeed.

His eyes wandered back to the monitor and the seismometer below it, the first test was nearing its completion, and Twilight would be “waking up” soon. Whooves rested his clipboard to the nearby coffee table and prepared to unlatch Twilight from the machine. Without warning then, the library doors burst open and banged against the walls.

Twilight cringed. “Door stoppers!” She muttered harshly.

Whooves jolted and looked over, and from the portals stumbled the lanky, wavering figure of the boy, gripping his head and bumping into furniture all the while muttering his castle host’s name. The present stallion trotted in front of him as though to guard the Princess, taking on a shaky yet readied stance.

“Don’t come any closer.” He warned. “The Princess and I are very busy.”

“Right, I was just looking for her-”

“Is it feeding time?” Whooves asked.

“What?” David cocked a brow.

“I don’t know what her highness keeps, a food bowl?” The stallion prodded his chin. “Ah yes, bananas! Perhaps she has some lying around.”

“I can’t tell which of those two remarks were more insulting.” David gripped his head again, “Christ almighty…” He muttered, leaning backwards and into a nearby chair. He stared forward and squinted at the odd sight before him. “Is she in the matrix, or something?” He pointed.

Whooves eyed the boy for a moment, if only to observe him curiously and referred back to Twilight, her eyes clamped so in an irritated manner. The stallion practically slapped himself over the head as he rushed over to her side and begun undoing the clamps around her scalp and face. At last the Princess’ eyes opened and she beheld the new sight of the boy, blinking and looking all around as though struggling to recollect memories lost to a night out on the town, or rather a night in on the books.

“Thank you, Doctor.” The mare acknowledged, dismantling herself from the chair and breathing with steady relief. “Have we achieved any of our predictions?”

“Well past that point, your highness.” Whooves trotted over to the charts. “Quite frankly, I’m not certain whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Twilight joined him for a moment to observe her brainwave patterns plastered onto extensive sheets of spikes and squiggles, along with a vast series of digits and symbols displayed on the green-frame monitor above. “What could it mean?” She thought aloud.

“Your guess is as good as mine, but erm, perhaps you have other matters to attend to before we address our results?” The stallion signaled his eyes towards the boy.

“Oh! Of course.” Twilight trotted over to the human’s side. “Have you met David, Doctor?”

“Albeit indirectly last night.” He stifled a chuckle. “He needs to work on his jokes.”

“That would explain the attitude.” Twilight laughed aloud, looking to her companion and nudging him on the leg. “Sleep well?”

“A little too well…” He groaned again, gripping his head with both hands. “Sorry, I’m not in the mood to talk about it. I’ve come to ask if you got anything for this…migraine.”

“We have coffee.” She offered.

David groaned again. “I’m not a fan.”

“Well, my noble Equerry, I hate to say it but you’ve brought this upon yourself.” Twilight patted his knee endearingly. “I would’ve sent Spike to pick up some migraine formula this morning, but his story is the same as yours.”

He sighed again, shaking his head. “Can’t you whip up some magic spell to take care of it? Maybe numb the pain?”

The Princess gasped and recoiled. “Absolutely not! We know you and magic don’t agree with each other, I’m not risking anything happening to you.”

Well, that was it then. David knew he was in the rough with no easy way out, he’d simply have to live with the pain. He supposed for a moment that Twilight was right after all, he had brought this upon himself, but quietly detested her lack of help. At least her showings of concern seemed to make up for it, somewhat.

His eyes wandered across the room and back to the machine that which he had seen her hooked up to. Three separate tables had been scooted to support a large array of dials, buttons and bright lights set upon dash boards and terminals, all to adjust the display and diagnostics for the small, green monitor with a wire frame background. There was a small black box set further down the line, a wire going to the terminals and another going to the head piece Twilight had been wearing. One might call it a fourth grader’s rendition of a space helmet, a metal bowl turned upside down with Christmas lights taped all over. David felt he was in no position to question its convoluted intricacies, not because everything was that of a cartoon, but because he knew by now the consequences of questioning cartoon logic would only worsen the effects of his over drinking.

Whooves had busied himself with the readings once more, shaking his head once and twice. “It could be a deficiency in the energy transfer, had we checked the nodes?” He asked across the room.

“Thrice over.” Twilight confirmed.

“I’m not sure, Princess.” He sighed again. “It feels like something is missing.”

“Not to worry, Doctor, it’s only the first test after all.” The Alicorn reassured. “Adjustments are bound to be made.”

“You’re right, I suppose I’m getting a little too excited.” He felt his hooves dance with anticipation. “If we want to pinpoint the problem then we’ll need to run several more tests, not to mention in several different varieties.”

“Varieties?” She wondered.

“Look no further, my partner in science.” He waved his hoof over to the human. “An ample and able subject lies right in our midst!”

David looked up. He looked behind him just to make sure, then turned back around. He mimed an accusing finger into his chest and shrugged at Twilight with his eyes. The Princess was ready to speak up, but Whooves hopped and trotted over faster than she could think. There was an odd, sensational mirth in the Doctor’s attitude all of a sudden, perhaps something to do with the pre-mentioned “monkey assistant” business David had heard of.

“I’ve heard a fair deal about you from a one miss Silver Spanner.” The stallion smiled and nodded. “She tells me you’re an excellent assistant, one of the best.”

“I do try my best.” David reassured.

“I never thought I’d see the day that I get to work with a personal monkey assistant, unfortunately those dreams were crushed back in my home town, Trottingham.”

Oh yes, it definitely had something to do with having a lab monkey wandering around, picking its nose and using tools in every different way except the right way. David was confident he was good at that.

“After a particularly traumatizing event in my past that involved some species of primate, more or less, I must say that it is an honor to be working with you.” He took the boy’s hand in both hooves and shook with excitement. “I feel that a more proper introduction is in need. Doctor Whooves, at your service, lad.”

“Slow down, Doctor.” Twilight squished herself in between the two. “I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”

“But think of the possibilities, your majesty!” Whooves tried. “Is it every day that the chance to search the deep depths of a foreign species’ mind comes knocking on your door? I say we cease the opportunity.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but it just doesn’t sit well with me knowing that our equipment isn’t as satisfactory as we were hoping it would be. It’s the reason why I placed myself as test subject, just in case something were to go wrong.” Twilight explained. “You and I both know this a daunting task to manage.”

David eyed the machinery set out on the tables once more. His eyes wandered to the head piece until the curiosity finally got the better of him. “So, what is that thing?’

Whooves was the first to perk up. “Essentially, an electroencephalogram, sectioned with bilateral receptors purposed to resonate with pyramidal neuron transmissions in the neighopallium and pegacortex layers of the brain.”

The boy stared at Whooves, blinked, and then turned to Twilight. “So, what is that thing?”

“It reads your mind.” She flat-noted. “Albeit in a narrowed down manner, our current equipment isn’t quite ready to give us the most accurate results.”

“And so that’s what those numbers mean?” He pointed to the screen.

“The key to our majesty’s mind.” Whooves proudly announced. “This black housing unit here was my contribution to the project, which contains hundreds of semi-conductive contact transistors capable of transferring and transforming information sooner than a moments notice. This so called ‘key to the mind’ is her highness’ specialty, I plan to contribute the whole title under her name.”

“Please, Doctor, without the help of your transistors none of this would’ve been possible.” Twilight acknowledged.

“Is this ‘key to the mind’ supposed to be a code name for the project or something?” David asked the two.

“We’re not too adamant on title cards. It instigates unwanted idols, mind you.” Whooves told him. “Rather, it is an ode in some sense, a continuation to the study of the mind that which many scholars have left to gather dust in recent years. The mind and its functionalities aid an endless plethora of mysteries that which have yet to be traced, trialed and triumphed over. Her highness had said it herself that in this field, there is no better place to start than a unicorn. Or, in this case a former unicorn.”

“Testing won’t be localized to unicorns alone, of course, as I plan to extend my research to other species when the time is right.” Twilight furthered. “But the Doctor is right, unicorns have shown to be far more receptive when it comes to mind inducing trials. I’ve read of theories suggesting that overtime, unicorns had developed their horns after generations upon generations of utilizing their brain activity.”

“You’re saying they pushed themselves to the point of aneurysm?” David joked.

“It’s a possibility.” Twilight laughed along. “After all, trial and error has always existed.”

As his eyes laid themselves back upon the device in question, David’s mind wandered back to the only memories he managed to retain from last night. Although his dream with Princess Luna was something to remark, both his words and hers fell flat upon retrieval, much like a tiny, twinkling white light in the midst of its brothers and sisters upon an endless black and blue canvas. The memory was there, but the details were sparse, almost indistinguishable from the others who sung themselves their own justice.

This is only a vision, a trick of the mind, isn’t it? He attempted to reassure himself. And yet I find no way out, even when a possible solution shows itself to me I can only think that it is yet another trick of the mind. Trick of the mind… He repeated the phrase in his head again and again.

“Trick of the mind…?” He spoke aloud.

“What was that?” Twilight’s ears perked.

“I may not be feeling well, but I think I want to give it a go.” He gestured towards the crown piece. “That electro…doo-hickey thing.”

“Surely you can’t be serious.”

“I am serious, and don’t-”

“Great whickering stallions, you’ve got yourself a deal, friend!” Whooves sprung a good ten feet into the air before landing back down in front of David, his attitude reminiscent of that of the pink one. He wasted no time in pushing the poor boy with the butt of his head over to the chair, launching him into the cushion and appearing behind him just as quick. Whooves raised the helmet above his head and slammed it down onto his cranium, prodding at his chin for a moment before making a minor adjustment or two.

“Be gentle with him, Doctor, he’s had a rough night.” The Alicorn winced.

“I think it’s a little too late for that.” David grumbled, feeling his migraine return at full force.

“The man is right, we haven’t a length of time to waste!” The Doctor breezed through his protocol and set the machine into an automatic startup process. “Now, it would help if you were to remain completely still for the entire procedure.” He stood in front of him, fixing the blindfold over his eyes. “Also, try not to think of anything. Just don’t think at all, actually.”

“Way ahead of you.”

“Ah-Ah-Ah! Not a word, mister man.” Whooves set the device into countdown mode and reset the transistor box before hitting the launch mark. “And not a thought.”

The buzzing of the nearby devices whirled to life and grew louder and thicker with every second that went by. David soon realized that it wasn’t the whirling of the machines, nor was it the vibrations emanating off of the head piece, but rather his own brainwaves were bouncing off the walls of the interior of the helmet and pounding their way back into his brain. In tandem, it was almost as though he could feel the very neuron transmissions within his head tickling around his scalp, crawling down his spinal cord and pricking ever inch of his body. The first few seconds felt like a jolt of electricity as though he were strapped to an electric chair, to which he supposed he might as well have been, but he brushed off the sensation as some form of peak voltage output from the devices hooked up to the head piece.

The Doctor’s transistors got to work relaying the electrical signals coming from the boy’s brain, thus storing the information onto the molecular layout of the transistors themselves. Twilight’s eyes were fixed upon the boy for a long moment, a worried stare filling her gaze as she watched little winces fly over his face every now and then. Soon enough his finger began tapping and his leg began to sway back and forth. Whooves trotted up next to her and explained the possibility of the involuntary reflexes when hooked up to the machine, just as she had been doing when in the test subject’s chair. Both their sights wandered to the seismometer and the green monitor above, wherein the same results from before were being displayed. The mare began to frown as the digits and symbols simply repeated themselves.

“It doesn’t make any sense.” She mumbled beneath her breath.

At that, the machine came to a halt and Twilight trotted over to the boy, releasing the latches, the blindfold, and the head piece from his figure. David lurched forward and held his head in his palm, to which the Alicorn lent another hoof to his knee.

“Feeling alright?”

“I don’t know, a little dizzy.” He groaned. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She wondered.

“When I was in there it felt like something was looking at me, or better yet, calling my name.” He shook his head again. “I’m not sure, must’ve been my imagination.”

Twilight’s own thought paused at the mention from his words, and she wondered upon them for a moment. Perhaps it could’ve very well been a trick of his mind, considering his current state, but was there something else perhaps? She wondered if she might dare to prod further, but the sound of the Doctor scoffing with disappointment caused her to look back over.

“I’m not sure, your highness, the results are still the same.” Whooves shook his head.

The boy sat up and looked over with a worried expression. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“It’s not your fault.” Twilight reassured. “Our equipment simply isn’t up to our standards, as I stated before. There’s nothing you could’ve done to hinder the responses.”

“Suppose he could have?” The Doctor started. “Involuntarily, I mean. There may be some manner of his genetic makeup, his brainwaves in this case, that resulted in the failure of our system. The same case could even be said for you, an Alicorn. N-Not a means of offense, your majesty.” Whooves hastily fixed his tie.

“But then why would the result be the exactly the same? It’s as if we’re only running a simulation, repeating the same process over and over again.” Twilight expelled a defeated sigh. She looked to the boy with a concerned set of eyes and nodded for the door. “I’m sorry if this has been more trouble than worth for your time. Go ahead and get some rest, I’m sure you’re pretty tired by now.”

“Thanks, Twi.” He acknowledged. “And don’t worry about it, I think I’m actually going to take a stroll to get things off of my mind. Maybe it’ll help a little.”

“Is that so?” She perked up. “In that case, would you be willing to do a small favor? I just need you to drop something off at Town Hall.”

“Hey, I’m your Equerry, after all.” He nodded and grinned. “I’m at your beck and call.”

Twilight nodded to his smile and flared her horn to life, levitating a small scroll into a view, a silver-blue ribbon wrapped around and concealing its contents. “Take this to Mr. Mikado. I’m sure you’ve seen him before? He’s an ambassador from Neighsia, he should be on the second floor of the building. Otherwise, just drop it off in the main lobby.”

With a curt nod and his gait for the door, David smiled confidently this time as he took the scroll out of the air and into his grasp. Two-sided thoughts began entering his mind as he made his way down the hall and through the castle corridors. One side told him of the coping for reality in this realm was to accept his role as the Equerry of Ponyville with both confidence and optimism, even if his person seemed almost completely devoid of it.

The other was a convincing whisper of sorts, one that told him the gateway to exiting this world would finally reveal itself to him through the nuances and mysteries of the mind.