Guiding Light

By I AM THE OTTER

Guiding Light:

PROLOGUE -

Out of Sight, out of Mind

* * *

I opened my eyes.

What is your first thought after waking up from a good night’s sleep? Is it a recollection of the dream that you just awakened yourself from? Is it something that you call to mind from just before you fell asleep?

When I woke up, my mind was blank. I laid there, my staring eyes boring into the ceiling, ever so slowly blinking. My chest fell and rose steadily, bringing new life into my musty lungs.

For at least a few minutes, I lay in that bed, without a single thought crossing my mind. Eventually, my brain decided to ask itself questions instead.

Where am I?

Do I have any food, or bits, for that matter?

Where are my friends and family?

After I could not answer any of its questions, my mind finally asked one that snapped me to reality.

What is my name?

I started to sweat, putting all my mental capacity into trying to answer that last question, but sheer dread won over my concentration, and it suddenly dawned on me.

Try as I might, I wouldn’t remember it.

* * *

My first instinct was panic. I didn’t know where I was or who I was - this feeling was probably beyond your comprehension; it was frightening. I was lucky I had common knowledge still stored somewhere inside me. I wasn’t brain-dead.

Instinct told me to leave my home and find help, so I followed its orders and opened the door.

After being inside for who-knows-how-long, I had to squint to stop the invading daylight from blinding me. When my pupils adjusted, my vision was met with an astounding sight.

I was living in a small house, smack in the middle of a row of houses along a grass road, surrounded by buildings and other homes, entrancingly decorated with every hue imaginable. Some were big; others, tiny. Each house was unique in their design, and not a single brick or plank was the same as on another house. It was as if a rainbow had upchucked all over the town. That may actually sound kind of disgusting, but it was quite beautiful, really - the town, I mean.

It was midday, the sun high in the sky, its warm rays beating down on my face, bringing slight relief to my apprehensive state.

More distracting than the buildings was the large number of other pony folk milling about, buying and selling in a nearby outdoor market. Others strolled into shops, and left with assortments of baked goods, tools, books, and about anything else you could imagine, filling their saddlebags. Some ponies just stopped, greeted others with cheerful demeanor, and chatted casually. Pegasus ponies flew across the sky, leaving streaks of color in their wake, and unicorns trotted along the streets amongst the earth ponies, as well.

I shut the door. I was frightened. The sight of so many other ponies brought a new set of questions to my mind.

Do I live here?

Am I an outsider - a guest in this town?

Will I attract attention if I go out?

I still had no answers. I needed help if I was to be rid of my apprehension.

Opening the door again, and gazing at the colorful ponies outside, I still wondered if there was any detail that would make me different from anypony else. I found a mirror in one of the house’s washrooms, and looked at myself:

Light blue irises, dark blue mane, sea-green coat. I was just as colorful as any of the ponies beyond my front door.

I noticed that I even had a horn. Trying to call magic to my horn was natural, and it glowed, but my efforts were cut short when I could not recall a single spell. I gave up with my magic, saving it for when I knew everything again.

My eyes drifted to my flank, and I caught sight of my Cutie Mark: a pickaxe, striking a stone. Was I a miner? The urban town I was in did not look like it had, let alone needed, a mine shaft. That posed as a potential answer to one of my questions; I might be a guest in this town, instead of a resident. Anxiety stuck again - would outsiders be regarded, as, well, outsiders, that did not fit in with the general population?

I dismissed these notions; I had been stalling for too long. It was time to act. Besides, if I was just a guest in this town, how long would I be staying, and how many bits would I owe somepony, if I hadn’t payed them already?

Opening the door a second time, now all the way, I stepped out onto the street and shut the door behind me. Thankfully, I brought no stares from anypony, save the odd glance from a passerby when a new pony appears in their field of vision.

That’s when the reality of the situation clciked in my brain. I had no idea of the layout of the town whatsoever, and my instinct told me to ask for directions to... wherever the hay I was going. A medical center, I decided.

My instinct hadn’t failed me yet, so, trotting up to the nearest pony - a ruby red young mare with a yellow-orange mane.

“Um, excuse me, but does there happen to be a medical center anywhere nearby?”

The mare turned to me and gave me an inquisitive look, but the annoyance was benign - she still bore a slight smile. I mentally sighed in relief.

“Yes, the medical office is just around the corner,” she replied. “Are you a guest in Ponyville?”

Ponyville. Another question answered.

My brain clicked again. What should I say? I decided that the simple truth would be enough. Lying about my mental state would probably just make things more complicated for me.

“Well, you see,” I started, “I- I don’t actually know. I just woke up with a severe case of amnesia. I can’t remember anything - I have no memories, at all, of my life.”

The mare’s questioning expression turned to one of concern and pity.

“Oh Celestia, that must be terrible! I can’t imagine what it must be like. You can’t even remember your name?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Stars above, that’s quite tragic... Anyway, if you follow this road down that way,” she pointed with her hoof, “...You’ll come across Mane Street. If you take a left, the hospital will be at the end of the street - it’s the tall building with the red cross.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your help,” I sighed, glad I could fit in with the ponies of Ponyville.

“No problem at all, I’m glad I could be of help. Would you like me to walk down to the office with you?”

“No, thank you, but I appreciate the gesture.”

“Thank you, glad to be of some help. Good luck!”

I nodded and turned in the direction the mare had pointed, and continued on my way.

* * *

I had discovered another fact about myself: I hated waiting.

Following the mare’s directions to the medical office had been simple enough. I strode in, at least managing to look calm and composed. I hid away my nervousness under a blank expression.

I strolled up to a bored-looking mare behind the reception desk. I had to cough once to get her attention, and she looked up with slight annoyance. I detailed my mental state, the mare still maintaining her uninterested demeanor, but she wrote what information I had given her down on a sheet of paper and scheduled an appointment. Then, she asked me my name. I gave her the appropriate response. That’s when she started to get serious.

“Have a seat, Nurse Redheart will see you in a moment,” The bored tone was gone completely. She motioned to a row of chairs in the waiting area.

So there I was, waiting impatiently for twenty minutes, before one of the nurses emerged from around the corner and called out to me.

“Sir,” she said, motioning towards me, “I’ll see you now.”

I got up, glad to finally be where I needed to be. I stepped into a room with various medical instruments, a couple of chairs, and an examination table pushed up against a wall. Acting through my gut once again, I immediately sat down in one of the chairs while Nurse Redheart went over my information again before she looked up at me.

“So,” she said casually, “You seem to have a severe case of retrograde amnesia. You have no memory whatsoever of you entire life or your identity, correct?”

I nodded.

“But,” she continued, “you still retain your procedural memory - you can still speak without fault, and your motor skills are unaffected.”

It wasn’t a question. I nodded anyway. “What would cause me to lose my memory like this?”

“Traumatic events, involving physical injury, or it can be caused to a lesser extent through stress. Now, please sit on the examination table, I’m just going to give you a simple examination.”

I did as instructed. She pored over my abdomen and legs, but concentrated on my head, which she Hmpf-ed at audibly. When she was done, she wrote everything down and spoke again, her voice containing slight annoyance.

“Telling from your Cutie Mark, you seem to be a miner, but Ponyville does not have a mine shaft. My guess is that you’re from Appleoosa, and suffered a head injury in their mine shaft, then came to Ponyville, where the amnesia, caused by the injury, took effect overnight.

“The problem is, you don’t have an Apploosan accent, nor do you bear any signs of major injury.”

There was a pause for a few seconds. I had nothing to say as I chewed the information over myself.

“Is there any way you can help jog my memory?” I asked.

“No, I’m afraid there’s no medicinal treatment for amnesia - not in Ponyville, at least.”

Redheart zoned out a bit, as if in thought.

“However,” she continued, “You can try to look around the house where you woke up for anything that could jog your memory. I could be mistaken, but I have little doubt that your memory won’t return to you if you try to search for your past life.”

“Alright, I’ll try that,” I said.

“I’m sorry I can’t do anymore. Good luck in your efforts,” Redheart said.

I thanked her, and walked out the door, trying to make sense of what I would do next.

* * *

Returning to the house in the late afternoon, I almost expected some angry pony to be waiting there, wondering why I hadn’t paid my rent. This notion was short-lived, however. I reminded myself that I needed to calm down and stop jumping to conclusions.

Before I could search for any sort of documentation, my stomach started growling, and I walked into the kitchen, my anxiety rising again even after I tried to shut it up. I desperately prayed that I had some food in the fridge, fearing all the vendors and shops would be closed.

Thankfully, the fridge was partially stocked.  I ate a few apples, and then began my search.

I rummaged around in every cabinet, drawer and on every shelf I could find, but all I uncovered was dust and a bag of a few bits in one of the cupboards. Moving my way towards the back of my house, I found the most obvious place to look; a dark wood desk, bearing ink and quills, alongside a stack of parchment. Going through each drawer in the desk, I opened the second one, and I found what I was looking for. My heartrate went up and sweat started to bead on my brow.

I carefully removed the portfolio containing a mess of loose papers out of the drawer.

I sat down in the chair by the desk and opened the folder, poring over the contents of each page. More facts starting popping into my head.

I own this house.

I have been a resident of Ponyville for six years.

My parents live in Manehattan.

The bits I found belong to me.

I am currently unemployed.

And that’s when my eyes drew over the next document.

A clear, unsmiling image of my face, sea-green coat and blue mane, stared back at me. Next to the picture was my age, height, weight, place of residence, and a single other crucial piece of information that shut down all systems in my brain for a solid minute.

My name was clearly printed, black text against a bone-white background.

My name. My name was....

My name was...

* * *

My second time waking up, I was not so fortunate.

The cracking of thunder made me bolt upright in the chair I had dozed off in last night. It was still dark. However, my internal clock told me it was morning. Looking out the window behind me revealed grey, cloudy skies, with veins of lightning crashing through every few seconds.

The previous day, I woke up without a thought to my mind. Yet today, I couldn't shut the damn thing off.

My name. My name is...

I looked at the document I was still holding in my hoof. It took a second to register.

My name is Steel Tempest.

Crack. More lightning.

I rolled my eyes. Tempest - how appropriate.

I stood up from the chair and rubbed my temple with a hoof. Now, I knew my name, and I knew where I was, and I knew pretty much everything I wanted to know. What was my next move? I sat back down, stumped. I had no idea. Back to square one.

I decided to mentally make a list of sorts of all the things I could do on a normal day. Eat breakfast, wash up... Then what? I didn’t have a job, nor did I think I could entertain myself in my home, yet going out and socializing just didn’t seem right at the moment, let alone possible, due to the inclement weather.

I rummaged through the documents again. My parents lived in Manehattan. Going to see them was obviously my next task, now that I thought about it. Glancing over to the sack of bits on the desk, I picked it up and peeked at the contents. It wouldn’t get me a train ticket. Sighing, I put the bits back on the desk. Yet again, I went through the papers.

A bank notice said that I had withdrawn the same amount of bits in the sack earlier this week.

The bank it is, then, I decided. There was bound to be a load of bits in my account.

But, like the medical office, I had no idea where the Ponyville bank might be. There was no option of getting directions from the passerby - nopony wandered the streets outside.

Ponyville was no tourist attraction, but every town had maps somewhere. My best bet for getting my hooves on one was the town hall. It was easy to see from anywhere in Ponyville; the tall, elegant design towered over every building in the town.

All I had to do was gallop to the town hall, get a map, then come back. After that, I could pin down the bank, gallop there, and return home a lot richer.

I tidied up my legal documents and stowed them away in a drawer, save my bank information. I slipped the sheets of paper into my saddlebags before putting them on.

Opening the front door of my house, another crack of thunder sounded close-by and I flinched, nearly slamming the door. I couldn’t just stop now. I wouldn’t let a storm slow me down. With that said, I stepped outside, shut the door, and galloped as fast as I could in the direction of the town hall.

The town was deserted - nopony lingered on the streets, and pegasi were absent from between the clouds. The lack of signs of life, coupled with the chilling downpour and the deafening thunder was frightening. To anypony looking out their window as I passed, I must have been regarded as insane.

I crossed the distance of the main plaza, and bounded up under the cover of the town hall. Shaking myself off a little, I entered to find a unicorn sitting behind a desk, wearing a befudled expression.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m in need of a map of Ponyville. Do you have any that you could loan me for a while?”

“Yes,” she said, a bit curious. “We have some slightly dated maps of the town. What do you need them for? You’re not going to go dig up all of Ponyville, looking for some sort of long-lost treasure, are you?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. I’ve just been suffering from long-term memory loss, and I’m just having some trouble finding my way around, is all.”

She gave me the same discerning look both the ruby mare and the medical office receptionist had given me. To be honest, I wasn’t too fond of the benevolence. I just wanted to be ‘normal.’

“Oh, okay then,” she said. “In that case, would a map of Equestria suit your needs as well?”

I hadn’t considered it, and I didn’t think it was needed, but in the end, it was better to have something when you didn’t need it than to not have it when you did.

“Sure, sounds fine. Is there a cost?”

“No, they’re free for anypony to take out, as long as you return them in as good condition as I’m giving to you now.”

Fair enough. The unicorn turned around into a back room, came back a few seconds later, and levitated two maps in my direction.

The next thing I need to get is a spellbook, I thought. I felt helpless without being able to use magic.

Thanking the pony, I stored the maps in my saddlebags and trotted back to my house through the thunderstorm.

* * *

It had never felt better to be in the warm coziness of my home, as opposed to the pelting rain. I shook myself off, deciding that a shower could wait until after I had visited the bank. I pulled the Ponyville map out of a saddlebag, unfurled it, and scanned over the streets, shops and other constructions.

Not a minute later I had located the bank. It was close enough; just throught the market and around the corner. Leaving the map, and making sure I had my account information, I opened the door to the windy, freezing storm and set off again.

Through the market, right into this street... Aha. There it is.

The low, stone-crafted structure was encircled with pillars, and looked fairly royal to be in such a modest town as Ponyville. I entered, to find an older, grey pony sitting behind a tall stone desk. He looked up from his newspaper - the Equestria Daily, I noticed.

The old stallion stifled a small chuckle. “Didn’t think I’d get any business today. You should’ve come yesterday and saved yourself the hypothermia!”

I just rolled my eyes. “It’s a little more complicated than that.” I pulled out my portfolio. “Can you tell me how much is in this account?”

The earth pony took the sheets and gave them a once-over. “H’will do.” He said through the folder in his mouth. He turned around, walking into the safe room. After a minute or so I heard a vault being opened, and then abruptly closed again. The grey pony returned and gave me the folder back, pulling out a book from behind the desk.

“I’m sorry,” He said, flipping through pages. “There aren’t any bits in that account.”

Now I was perplexed. “Well, when was my last transaction?”

“That’s what I’m looking for.” He tapped the book. “This account was created five months ago. No bits ever entered or left this account. And there aren’t any other accounts with this name.” The stallion had answered all my questions before I could ask them. I was stumped.

“Okay, thanks anyway.” I picked up the folder and put it back into my bag. I turned around toward the doors.

“Good day, Mr. Tempest! Keep warm, and make sure to stay out of that tempest!”

Rolling my eyes, I still managed to chuckle a little. I went back home, took a shower and lit the fireplace. I had to organize my thoughts.

I know my name, I own this house, I have no money, I have no job, and any relatives live far enough away to be out of contact for a while. I am running low on food as well.

Crack. The lightning startled me again. Today was not the best day to work things out.

Laying back on the sofa in the living room, I slowly drifted into sleep, as my mind continuously swirled with thoughts. One, however, was much more imposing than the rest.

What do I do next?