A Story of Freytara

Twilight and I calmed down from the recent rantings of space and spaceships and Martians (There weren’t any Martians mentioned). Fluttershy seemed to be still thinking about the concept of something above the sky, as she stared out the window into the blue. She turns to me and asks,

“Are there animals in space?”

Now that’s a good question.

“Now that’s a good question. We haven’t a clue. There could be space whales or space octopi and we wouldn’t be able to see them with our instruments.”

Fluttershy’s eyes widen, then she looks out the window some more.

That makes me wonder if there really are life forms that can just float around in space. Probably not. Eh.

Twilight clears her throat, looks at her clipboard, and says,

“Right. Next question... how many are you where you come from?”

I reply flatly,

“Last I heard... there were around 7-8 billion of us.”

Another gasp from my audience.

“Which brings me to another point in my I’m no longer on my home planet theory. Where I come from, mankind has chartered every island, continent, mountaintop, valley, and plains on our world, and are probably living there. We ruled the earth. On top of the food chain. No other species could match what our accomplishments were.”

The ponies stared in awe. I don’t know if this is a good thing, but my tangent isn’t finished, so I continued.

“We are the only ones that we are aware of that was sapient (That was before I came here but...). We forged tools out of metals using fire that we use to protect and warm ourselves from the world (and each other’s greed). We built homes out of increasingly sturdier materials to last against the elements. We formed societies from scratch (some of which we had to topple). We invent increasingly potent medicines and often ponder philosophy and the meaning of existence. We’ve tried to explain it with something called religion. There are so many theories about our origins that I would talk to you for days and not even scratch the surface (Not that I know that much about general religion). We are pretty neat.”

I laid back, trying to think of something else. Twilight says,

“Well, the world here isn’t that hard to live in, so... wait. You were the only sapient race where you come from?”

“That we were aware of. We can’t exactly teach a dog to talk or chat it up with a lion.”

Furious scribbling can be heard from Twilight’s clipboard as she makes notes. Fluttershy just glances at us every once and a while, and then outside. I take this opportunity to prop myself up in bed to a position I feel is more suitable for someone with an audience, rather than someone who’s getting ready for sleep. Twilight then asks,

“What about friendship? Can you be good friends with each other?”

Now this was a question.

“Depends on who you talk to.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone has a unique opinion on things, even if it’s only a little difference. People can either be friendly or openly hostile based on their disposition on things. They may see you as a potential friend, or they could see you as an enemy to fight and to be destroyed, or they simply wouldn’t care and be about their day.”

The ponies seemed satisfied with the answer, and silence took hold in the room anew. Twilight stops writing and asks,

“How do humans deal with conflict? Do you fight at all?”

My nervous expression betrayed me, and Twilight pressed by asking again.

“There’s been innumerable wars between nations to the point where weapons were invented so terrible that we’ve scared ourselves into not having any more major wars.”

Fluttershy seemed shocked if her silent expression and still eyes were anything to go on. Twilight seemed fascinated. She asked,

“If you’ve fought each other so much that would require such weapons, why would they scare you? I mean, if a country, race, species has a history of violence, then it should be obvious that they should keep fighting. What did you humans make that would scare you so much?”

My face tried to remain blank as I said nervously, “Are you sure you want to know?”

Twilight froze, eyes going wide. She then nodded slowly. I slowly said, “Someone invented a bomb--”

Twilight cut in, saying, “I don’t think fireworks are that dangerous...”

“...which can by themselves destroy an entire metropolis and render the very air and land poisonous for a long time.”

Fluttershy and Twilight looked to Ponyville, and tried to imagine what would happen should such a weapon be used. Fluttershy half-whispered to me,

“That’s terrible.”

I wholeheartedly agreed, and said,

“That’s why we’re so scared of going to war on the same scale again. We might be tempted to use these weapons to destroy entire armies and enemy cities. That doesn’t mean that some nations are still gearing up for such a conflict where these weapons are employed.”

I sat back, having to sniff up snot.

Wait. I thought I felt fine.

I noticed this, and asked for a tissue, or a handkerchief. Fluttershy fetched a box of tissues, which I cleared my nose with, with a lot of noise. My mind started to reel, and my vision blurred. I kept blowing and blowing my nose, but I still felt bad. I raised my hand to my face to wipe my nose with a tissue, and that’s when I noticed the small red spots on my arm. Drowsiness darkened my vision, and a sudden weakness caused me to flop on my back, my consciousness going with Fluttershy anxiously uttering the words,

“Oh...’es …. ny pox.”

Great.

And all was dark.

...

...

A memory flashes across my mind. Someone saying,

“Hey, what’s that guy doing?”

It echoes a few times before fading.

...

...

My vision brightens up as I realize I am waking up, groggily. I also realize I’m in a pretty bad condition.

Pony Pox.

So it was a real thing. Who would've thunk it? Better open my eyes. To my (not)surprise, my vision was blurred and my other senses dulled.

Okay, one more time.

Bliegh.

I realized my throat was dry and my lips are parched.

I attempted to communicate, but all that came out was a wheeze. I looked around, and from what I could see, there was nobody(or pony sheesh) around.

I’m not going to let some pansy pony pox get the better of me.

Straining, I got up. Straining, I got on my feet.

I strained to take every step towards the brown horizontal thing I assumed was the door. I bumped into it, and touch confirmed it was the door.

I strained across the hallway and downstairs. I nearly fell several times.

I went to what I thought was the kitchen.

I saw a silver thing, then assumed it was the sink.

To my delight, it was. I groped for the tap and drank heartily from the faucet.

Now that I was full, I turned the tap off and made the agonizing journey back to the bedroom. I had to crawl up the stairs, and across the hallway. I barely managed to stand up to open the door. My last ounces of strength were used to plod along to the foot of the bed, and I fell down face-down onto it and passed out with a triumphant grin.

Got a drink like a boss.