The Many Deaths Of You

   You stop staring at the controller. Your finger hovers over the button. For a moment, you almost push it. Then, you decide you should take a break and think things over before hurling yourself off the face of existence. You put the controller down and - just in case - shut the machine off. Wouldn't do to have it randomly go off by itself. You go grab your wallet and car keys, and drive down to the Dairy Queen, because ICE CREAM DRINKS.

   You order something cold and delicious and large to consume and contemplate. Sitting down in a window seat, you idly gaze over in the general direction of your house. At 22 minutes and 30 seconds after a certain key point in time, you begin to feel nervous. Before long, you’re downright scared. You almost scream. And then, oddly, nothing. Nothing happens. It's almost as if something has changed. There was a problem but the problem was fixed, like someone cleaned up a mess and put it in the right box instead of all over on the ground.

   Your train of bizarrely correct thought is interrupted by the dreaded scrape of your spoon against the bottom of the cup. You sigh, stand up, chuck your trash in the appropriate receptacle, thank the workers, walk out to your car and drive home. You see that your roommate still isn't home, which is good. They probably wouldn't approve of all the weird trans-dimensional science stuff you're doing. They're already somewhat skeptical about all the Derpy posters in your room.

   Walking downstairs to the basement, you walk past the computer you've been writing all the code for this thing on. Then you walk back to it. You got an idea. An important idea. An idea that could save your life. When you ate earlier, you ate ice cream out of a cup. They didn't just sell the ice cream to you. You got a cup with it. The cup held it together. The cup was the reason why that sort of thing was even possible.

   You write some calculations and ideas on the whiteboard (tends to be easier to work with than a computer sometimes), do some thinking, write some more ideas, crunch a few numbers, and crack your knuckles to write some serious code. A few minutes later, with some quick debugging to make sure you don't have any infinite loops or dead code or misplaced periods, you hit the compile button and squee with success.

   Powering on the machine, you go to the terminal and enter the launch information. Slightly quivering with excitement, you jab the ’start’ button. Again, the lightning from the reactor reaches out to you. Again, it hurts. But then it changes. The lightning splits apart into finer and finer threads. The pain fades out to an odd tickling feeling. Instead of an ugly rip in space, something much more circular-looking opens up, and you fall into it.

   As you fly over and around the lights, you can't help but feel like you've done this before. You almost feel certain that this has happened before. So many of them whiz past you, you almost get mentally lost in them. But then you head straight for one of them. The light resolves itself into millions, billions, trillions, quadrillions, nobody-has-any-clue-how-many-illions of stars. The universe grows and grows until another hole opens up in front of you, and you fall into it.

   Lyra Heartstrings was contemplating the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. She was guessing all sorts of things, including apricots and the number 42, when there was a bright light. Then she was covered in human. One solid, living human this time, instead of a disorganized radioactive blob of nothing meaningful. She collapsed from the surprise and the weight. Both of you gave out a rather loud oof.

   You took one look around you - she took one look at you - and you both did the exact same thing at the exact same time.

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==Summary==

Attempt Number: 6 (still going)

Time Lasted: 32 minutes, 14 seconds (still going) -- New Record!

Distance Reached: Equestria (in one piece) -- New Record!

Huzzah. The fun has been quintupled.