I

Where to begin?

My name is Jason. As far as names go, it's fairly unremarkable, but it seems to work well enough as something for people to call me by. My name is Jason, and I'm a human.

No, not the famous writer. There’s no relation, I assure you.

Saying you’re a human is a distinction that's not normally necessary. In day-to-day conversation, the question of someone's species doesn't come up that often. I'm making a point of mentioning it because it's relevant at the moment.

My name is Jason, and I'm a human. The reason I feel the need to clarify that is partly out of habit - when you're asked all the time, the phrase comes out as second nature. "My name is Jason, and I'm a human." It's easy enough to say, though the peculiarity of clarifying the latter point never quite goes away.

So why is it that I need to specify, anyway?

I am - was - a social worker, from New York. It's an occupation that's even odder given recent circumstances, but it's one I was happy doing. Helping people is overall one of the best things anyone can hope for, whether it's in a big way or small. I talked to people - people from families with problems, with parents who weren't quite up to snuff. I talked to kids a lot. People say I'm good with kids. Said, anyway.

I was a social worker in New York. Now I'm not.

The first bit of what I said is still true though; Jason, my name, and my species, human.

I don't have to ask anyone else the second part of that linguistic equation. It's obvious, with them. There are distinctive features that make it easy enough to tell at first glance.

That's the critical part here, I guess. My name is Jason, I'm a human, and I live in a world with talking ponies.

I'd like to say that there was a remarkable happenstance to explain what happened - I've wracked my brain for hours trying to think of anything I said or did particularly out of the ordinary, or any phenomenon I might not have paid the closest attention to. None of it adds up, no matter how long I do the mental-math - the whole thing is frighteningly mundane, save for the part with the talking ponies.

Well, I guess that's a distinction to make as well. They're not just ponies. I mean, ponies like you or I might think of them. There are different kinds, for one: ones with wings, and ones with horns, and ones that just walk on the ground. But even then, they're not really proper ponies - they're sort of more like people than anything else, but for their technicolor fur and walking on four legs and all. And flying. And magic. And... you know. Being ponies.

They don't look exactly like ponies, if that makes sense. They're smaller, for one. Softer looking. Squishier. None of them, as far as I can tell, smell like bales of fermented hay and their own piss. I mean... not that I've noticed.

The first thought, upon waking up that day, typified my entire existence going forward.

That's odd.

I thought two words and fell back to sleep in a bed that wasn't mine. The sheets were warm enough, and I guess that's all that mattered.

The one that woke me up had screamed, and I'd surprised myself with my own reaction time. We all go through the scenarios in our head, at night, from time to time; what would happen if someone broke in right now and tore the place apart? Would I be smart enough to stand up? Would I confront them with a haphazard assemblage of self-defense items, clinging to a strong, thick object as though it was a talisman of strength? Or would I just hear the noise, deny any palpable responsibility for my own protection, and go back to sleep?

I was out of the covers and ready to fight a couple of seconds after the scream hit my ears. I probably didn't help the situation, leaping up and spinning around in my boxers looking for the nearest blunt object. Of course, since the room wasn't mine, the search for a self-defense implement wasn't very successful. If anything, it was probably for the best - the weird butter cream coloured walls and tiny furniture gave me enough pause to realize that I might not want to start swinging wildly at my potential assailant.

The pony had stopped screaming when I stopped spinning, but the look on its face said that was only because it was too terrified to make a sound. As for me... I'm not sure if I was afraid, but my heart was beating fast enough that the rest of my body probably thought so.

Neither of us said anything. I was pretty sure I was dreaming. The pony's eyes were wider than dinner plates - especially weird because of how big they already were in proportion to her head. They looked like the eyes on a cartoon character.

That had been my first few minutes in Equestria.

Eventually, I gathered the presence of mind to speak. I don't remember what my first words were, sadly; the whole experience was kind of a blur with how much adrenaline was running through my body at the time. Sadly, I doubt I said anything as articulate as an ambassador for the human race should have.

Probably something along the lines of "What the fuck?"

Swearing might have been in bad taste. I've learned to curb the habit since then.

Every minute after those first frantic few was a blur. Ponies of every colour. Wings, horns, and me staring stupefied at all of them. There was magic, the use of which had resulted in horrified looks from all the horned ponies (unicorns) present when they realized it did little or nothing when used on me. After a short while surrounded by colorful miniature horses, a group of them had gathered me up, mostly with my cooperation, and taken me elsewhere in a carriage pulled by flying armored guards.

They'd taken me to meet their princess.

She wasn't quite what I'd expected.

I mean, she was regal enough, certainly, for a fluffy looking miniature horse. She was more capable of rational discourse than any of the ponies I'd encountered 'till that point, which meant we talked for a while. She was bigger than the other ponies, almost as tall as me.

I didn't say anything, but I had the desire during the whole conversation to jump on her back and ride her like a regular horse.

I don't think she would have taken too kindly to that, though.

So, she had said. You are a human. She didn't like contractions.

Yes, I'd said.

And then we talked.

She'd known what humans were, for one thing.

The details from that point on are logistics. To get you up to speed; the place is called Equestria. Yes, I'm still here, and the ponies look at me like a freak of nature... well, some of them.

That was part of the Princess’s - Celestia's - plan. I have just the place for you to stay while we work on sorting this out, she'd said. It's a small town with a very special group of ponies who I think would benefit from having you around.

The pacing of events had been a little hard to adjust to. I mean, one minute you're asleep in your own bed on - presumably - your own planet, and the next your eyes are open and staring into the horrified gaze of a mint-green coloured unicorn backing away from you at full speed.

My friends and family... well, okay.

Confession time; that's not that much of an issue, really.

As gifted as I might have been at my job - and I was good at it, I think - I never really 'clicked' with people. I'm not sure what it was; something about people around me just didn't gel. I could make small talk, carry on a conversation, even go out for drinks with one or two of them - but the spark that said 'continue doing this' was never there. So, I kept mostly to myself, happy in my well-furnished apartment, spending my time reading or occupying myself elsewhere. I took up knitting, for a bit.

I miss the furniture just a tad, I guess.

Oh, and my job. I didn't mind helping people - I really liked it, as a matter-of-fact. One of the things that social work gets termed with is the idea that the people in charge of child confiscations from terrible households are secretly awful people; they're nefarious monsters who take joy in ripping a crying girl away from the arms of her mother. That's certainly not true of me, and I'm not sure it is for anyone else who does what I do - did. I just like to think that, even if only a little bit at a time, that I'm making a difference in the world. Was, I mean.

Other people seemed to think I was fairly good at it. I was great with kids, they said.

So the town I wound up in is called 'Ponyville'. Understandably, I had some trouble fitting in. I mean, it's right in the name. ‘Humanville’ wasn't an option, sadly.

The Princess introduced me to a pony she said was very special. A purple one. Unlike everyone else I'd met since waking up in a bed very much not my own, she looked at me with something other than fear or horrified curiosity. She even looked a little excited.

"My name is Twilight Sparkle," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

"I'm Jason," I said back. I offered my hand before I realized, but she extended her hoof to meet it, and I grabbed it and shook awkwardly.

"I'm, uh, a human," I said, as if I'd forgotten. It was more that I'd never needed to remember.

Twilight had smiled at me.

That was day one. Things from then were almost... normal. As normal as they could be anywhere surrounded by colorful talking horses, anyway. I'd had a bit of a hard time fitting in, as you might have expected. Twilight was the closest thing to a friend - she helped let ponies around town know what my deal was, preparing them for having me around, alleviating their fears by brandishing Princess Celestia's name like a fencing sword. After the first few weeks the only awkward looks I got were half-glances of curiosity. I still can't shake the feeling of being taller than everyone else though; especially the kids. They're the pony equivalents of elementary-to-middle-school kids, but they look like perpetual toddlers to me. Some of them still look at me like I’m a monster when I walked around town.

So, at the beginning, I had a hard time fitting in. What was I even supposed to do with myself? Twilight had studies she wanted to run; as much as Celestia may or may not know about humans, she was careful not to let on when I spoke to her.. The whole notion of adjusting was a surreal experience. Like; this is your life now. Wake up in the basement of a tree-turned-library-turned-house and make your way upstairs where a lilac miniature horse is waiting with her dragon assistant to cook you a vegetarian breakfast. I was too nervous to broach the subject of meat - I mentioned it to Twilight, but the discussion hadn't progressed any further than a cursory 'oh'.

Things were different. Every moment of existence away from Earth was uncomfortable. More than anything, I felt out of place. My only time awake was spent wondering what the hell I was doing in Equestria in the first place; and, as anyone will tell you, existential malaise is a terrible way to occupy your mind. I needed to find a purpose all over again. Social Work didn’t exist in Equestria (or at least not in the relatively rustic town of Ponyville), so I needed to find a new pursuit.

Essentially, I had to find ways to make myself useful.

There were a couple of immediate opportunities. Being a creature with opposable thumbs in a world where the only mode of articulation is holding something between your teeth – or, if you’re lucky, magic – definitely has its advantages. Even before I had decided to search for something to occupy myself with aside from Twilight’s questions and studying, I’d started helping ponies around town when they needed things held, built, assembled, or manoeuvred in ways that weren’t the easiest when dragging them around with their teeth. It seemed to get me at least passing approval from most of the citizens; even if they didn’t need my help directly, the fact that the big creepy human they were still mostly afraid of was wandering around assisting people– er, ponies– meant that I at least seemed trustworthy.

I didn’t mind helping either. The fact of the matter is, I have – had? – just as hard a time fitting in as the ponies do getting used to me. So what else could I do but try to prove how helpful and harmless I am? It’s a skill that carried over fairly well from social work; being as nice as possible while still maintaining interest in proper conduct. A lot less paperwork to fill out this way, though.

I met some folks. Learned a few names. Twilight had friends and introduced me to all of them, though none of them held more than a passing interest. I’m Twilight’s study project, and therefore not the subject of fascination for anyone else, really.

Well…

There was one other pony.

I met her on the stroll home from the market. Twilight has a helper; a little dragon named Spike who, as far as I can figure, is like a weird combination between a little brother and an assistant/house-keeper/slave. I wouldn’t use those words out loud, of course… but he doesn’t seem to have much else to do aside from running back and forth to pick up Twilight’s writing supplies and keeping up on the housekeeping.

I didn’t mind taking over some of the chore-load, being that I didn’t have much else to do. Now I help out when Spike’s busy or needs a break; cleaning things, fetching groceries, that sort of thing.

That’s how I ran into this pony. Her name is ‘Cheerilee’.

I bumped into her, quite literally, with a surplus of groceries in each hand, carrying probably more than a recommended armful. I think Spike usually brings a little cart, or tows things behind him. Foolish me, I thought that with my mighty human appendages I’d be able to carry all the month’s food items in one go. Unfortunately, in Equestria, none of the grocery bags have handles, so the ol’ ‘fifteen bags on each arm in one trip from the car’ trick doesn’t work quite as well.

Now I’m used to watching around waist-level for passerby that I might hit by mistake, but at the time I’d mostly just been focused on getting home without dropping anything. That hope had turned out to be short-lived.

We collided. She shouted. I kept my mouth shut when I fell, but I probably looked like a bad clown trying to juggle both armfuls of produce and seasonings. They hung in the air just long enough for me to delude myself into thinking I might catch them, but the second the first cabbage hit me on the head I lost my footing and went down. The pony was luckier; unless you’re quite clumsy, having four legs is usually a benefit that keeps the ground rooted firmly underfoot regardless of velocity or sudden lack thereof.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I said I was fine, but I hoped that none of the produce was damaged.

She laughed. That was the first time I’d heard a reaction from anyone that wasn’t polite restraint of fear.

I started picking up the groceries and found her beside me, helping out by grabbing as much as she could. She used her forelegs instead of her teeth, which I appreciated, hoping to keep saliva off the next month’s dinner menu as much as possible. That was one of the first time I noticed that very important difference between real ponies and these ones; real ponies can’t grab things with their forelegs. Real ponies’ legs don’t bend like putty or play-dough. So, in that way, these ponies have a distinct advantage. That and the whole ‘talking, sometimes magical, sometimes flying’ thing.

“Thanks,” I said to her when we had the last of the groceries picked up.

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Her voice was so sweet; kind of sing-song, with a tone that sounded like she was used to consoling people. It made me smile a little bit just from hearing it.

“Me neither… though, that’s mostly because I couldn’t see from behind that giant armful of cabbages.”

That made her laugh. She held one hoof up to her mouth when she did, and I got a proper look at her after she’d been tucked away between lettuce heads in my periphery.

Like every other pony I’d run into, her coat was a colour I’d never expect to see in the real world; a magenta-red, with a pink, cotton-candy coloured mane.

“So,” she said. “You’re the human.”

“Yes,” I replied. “My name’s Jason.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Jason,” she said. “I’m Cheerilee.”

She held out her hoof.

I was a bit flabbergasted at that point. She was being nicer than any pony I’d encountered up till that point – still a month or two after showing up in Ponyville in the first place – and she was treating me like I was just another person – er, pony – on the street. She was smiling at me.

And, she knew what a handshake was.

Something was up.

I shook her hoof anyway, and I think she could tell I was suspicious. She jumped in before I got a chance to ask.

“I’ve read all about you,” she said. She held up a printed something, a magazine probably, with her spare hoof. “It’s what I was reading when I bumped into you actually… I couldn’t pull myself away from the article about your arrival.”

“I’m in a magazine?” The print was as glossy as it looked when I picked it up. Weirdly enough, the format was pretty similar to what I would have expected on Earth; folded spine in the middle, articles and text arranged in the usual fashion. And, yes an article about me.

‘Mystical ‘Human’ Arrives From Parts Unknown’, the article caption read.

The cover had a picture of a sunset over a castle I didn’t recognize, and some blurbs about the articles inside.

“’Canterlot Quarterly’?” I read out.

Cheerilee nodded.

“I like to keep up-to-date on current capitol affairs… and when I saw the word ‘Human’ on the cover, I wondered if anypony even remembered the old stories about… well, humans. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see one myself.”

‘One’.

I wasn’t offended, but it’s a bit weird to be referred to like you’re the Loch Ness Monster or Big Foot in that kind of context.

We talked some more. She helped me carry the groceries home.

Twilight looked surprised when she opened the door to let me in. Even with Cheerilee’s help I still had more than a few groceries that made turning the tiny wooden handle by myself a little difficult.

“Jason, you’re– oh! Cheerilee! What are you doing here?”

“Hello Twilight. I ran into Jason while I was out in town, and he looked like he needed help getting things home. I figured it was only fair after I made him drop everything by walking with my nose in my magazine.”

Twilight’s expression was hard to place. She just looked… confused.

“Oh,” she said.

“Sorry I took so long. Cheerilee was a great help, even if I did almost turn our supply of lettuce into salad on the way here.”

I don’t remember the particulars of negotiating my way inside. Twilight had gotten over her perplexment after a little while, and business returned to normal inside as I put the groceries away.

But I said goodbye to Cheerilee before she left. She said we should talk again sometime, if I had a chance.

From that point on, I had my first real ‘friend’ in Ponvyille.

Which brings me closer to where I am now, and why I’m telling all of this In the first place.