Biopsyoid

The wind was blowing steadily across the land as it had from the start of her trek. It kept the same direction and strength – raking the land as it moved across its surface. The soil cringed in response.

She had been shown some picture books about how the Equestria of the surface functioned. There were pictures of farms maintained by what they called the ‘working class’, and the primary purpose of them seemed to be to grow plants. The house looked to be almost an exact remake of the picture she had seen, only with a more derelict tone. If there was one pony out here, it was likely there would be more, but the building seemed without purpose.

She had walked quite a long distance. Her whole life had been a series of scenes against a black canvas – one room – but the thrill of freedom was rather dull and fleeting. She had been shown many scenes from the surface, and as pictures in her head she could reshape them at will. She had no frame of reference and anything off the edge of the pane was up to her to decide. The metal voices had encouraged her to do so. Being out here for real felt different. Things moved so slowly. She had put so much effort into what could before have been done with a tilt of her head. This was reality, but it felt less real creeping along as it did.

Wolf was silent. Her(?) fortress was sealed tight. Flow had considered Wolf’s actions and decided to take her very seriously as a threat. She had defeated gods before, and given the chance, could destroy her. Flow was in charge for now. She had defeated Wolf in the struggle for her body. It seemed Wolf could only control her as long as she allowed it.

She was now near enough to the house to get a good view of it. The house was in good shape. It was a two storey building with a thatched roof and a cobblestone chimney. The wood was old and dark, but held strongly. There was a fence surrounding the house with a barn outside its perimeter, all about the same age. The windmill turned constantly in the wind, but shook from side to side with a rusty squeal; it seemed rickety. She also noticed a well she had not seen before around the back of the house.

She had no idea how to interact with ponies. Her interactions of the past had all been one sided. She’d tried to think about it on the way here, but she didn’t have anything real to work with. She did understand the basic family structure though. She was just a filly and if there were adults there they should be willing to help her; that is if the picture books had been correct.

The door was just a few paces away, up a few crude steps. Reality returned at that instant and she felt anxious – more so than she had planned to be. She walked towards it and knocked with a hoof. The door opened and an elderly looking mare greeted her with a smile.

Blinky Pie was in her room on the second storey of the Pie family home; the place she had lived her whole life, seeing no reason to move anywhere else. Her recovery from autism as a young filly had expanded her social circle from one to five, but she was still very much an introvert. She had lived in a bubble her whole life, and although that bubble had grown, she would still not dare risk venturing outside of it.

Over time she had managed to work her life into the shape she desired, filing down the undesirable edges to a mild inconvenience. Farm labour was tough work, and really it did not suit her, but she would put up with it to keep the bubble she had grown intact. As her intelligence grew into adulthood, she had convinced her parents that her talents could be put to better use.

She was a clever filly; she could take care of the farms expenditures far better than her parents, who were admittedly, simple folk. Fitting the symptoms of her child diagnosis, she would often arrange objects into patterns. It was a fascination that stuck with her, but one she had learned to hide. It disturbed other ponies to find the results.

At every opportunity she had, she used her spare time to learn mathematics. The patterns inside her head were both more discrete and more interesting than those outside. She didn’t care much about any of their practical applications, but she would use them to help her family where it was needed.

If somepony were to accuse Blinky of deceiving her parents, she would brush the claim aside with a thought. It was true that she told her parents she needed more time to go over the farms bills than the reality, but it was what they needed to hear. They had a strict work ethic, and believed that time shouldn’t be squandered, but Blinky needed different things than them to survive. Things they couldn’t understand. It was what allowed them to live together, and Blinky knew her parents loved her. It had taken her until the age of seven, but she had learned to love them back too.

She allowed them to live inside her bubble. If she didn’t think of them as much as the world, she never would have.

She was the last of the triplets she was born into to earn her cutie mark – a geode – which she felt suited her very well. It had a hard outer shell that made her feel safe, and an interesting inside with a lifetimes study of intricate detail.

An interruption from the outside world ebbed at her concentration on her current problem.

Her mother was calling to her. From the tone it sounded like something she could get out of, but she already had most of what she needed down on paper, and she was good enough at multitasking that she could probably think out the rest of the solution while doing whatever is was needed doing.

She opened the door and trotted half way down the stairs to see her mother.

“Blinky? Is this one of your little friends from town?”

She was standing with a pale, mint filly who looked scared and confused.

Blinky’s mother, Sue, was in the onsets of dementia. She was mostly still ok, but at times she could become forgetful, or lose herself in the past. It was likely that right now she had regressed into thinking Blinky was a foal again. It was something she had learned to deal with.

More pressingly, somepony had invaded her home. This issue would need to be dealt with, but she had learned long ago that the fastest way to get rid of an unwanted pony was just to do what they asked. Nopony would come out this far without a good reason, and they’d usually leave after they had what they wanted. It was strange to see a filly on her own though. She was a pegasus; maybe she flew here?

“Hey there little filly. Are you lost?” She knew to speak in an extra gentle tone to little fillies. It was possible that her mother’s absentmindedness could have scared her. “Are your parents anywhere around here?”

Flow panicked at this and begun instinctively looking for an escape route. Perhaps a runaway? Or maybe just not used to strangers. Best to try calm her down.

“Don’t worry. Can you tell me your name?” she used her best foal-mittens. They seemed to be working.

The filly stalled for a few seconds before answering. “F—Flow.” She coughed the answer out as if she was not used to speaking.

“Well, Flow, my name is Blinky Pie. Can I get you anything? How about some juice?”

The filly looked at her blankly for a few seconds before nodding half-heartedly. So far this had been the ideal contingency for Blinky. Most foals were noisy and made a mess wherever they went. They terrified her. A rough and tumble pegasus colt had been brought to visit with one of her father’s friends a year ago. They left him outside to play while the adults talked. It had taken her days to realign all the rocks in her field after that monster was done with them.

It gave her quite a panic attack to see things in that state. Blinky was good at showing the side of herself other ponies wanted to see, but only when things were going her way. She was scarred of any social contact, but it was only when things started to escalate that she would lose it.

“We’ll just be going to the kitchen mother.” She walked up between the foal and Sue.

“Don’t fill up on snacks. You know I’ll be serving dinner in half an hour. A growing filly needs to eat all her alfalfa after all.”

In the kitchen, Blinky poured a glass of juice from a bottle in the pantry and put a straw in it. Flow took the drink and cautiously examined it. Blinky had to speak up before she would do anything.

“Go ahead. Take a sip.”

The foal began to sip from the straw and choked on her first mouthful. She recovered though, and then drank correctly from the glass. What an inept little foal. Perhaps I could get rid of her if I took her out to the forest and left her there. No, that’s too risky. If she can fly she would find her way back. She would have to figure out who the foals parents were. Maybe if she could make her happy, then she would talk.

“So, do you want to tell me what you’re doing all the way out here on your own?” A head was shaken timidly in response. Easy now Blinky; take your time.

“Well, ok then. Say, you don’t seem like you’re from around here. Would you like to hear about what we do out here on the farm?” That seemed to get her attention. Flow nodded her head up and down in excitement. Hmm. That much of a response for a farm story? Where is this filly from?

“You’ve already met my mother, Sue. I have a father, Clyde, a strong stallion who should be out working in the fields right now. And three sisters: Inky, Pinkie and Clay; as they like to be called at least.

“Inky and Pinkie were born with me. Inky lives out here on the farm with us – she’s out in town buying supplies – and Pinkie moved away a year ago. Clay is much younger; about your age. She’s around here somewhere rotating the rocks. I’ll introduce you to her when she gets back.”

Flow got scared as she said that and looked down at the table. Blinky underlined timid in her mental list of silent judgements. “Hey, don’t worry. She’s a nice pony, and I’ll be there.”

Flow smiled, but Blinky could tell it was forced. Her best bet was to continue anyway, pretending she believed it. “There’s big demand in the world for stone. Ponies need it for building houses, sculpting, aqueducts, and concrete. It’s our job to supply the stone that makes all that possible. It’s a big job, but we’re a hard working group.”

Flow still looked sad and afraid. This was going to be a slow process.

At least the filly was no trouble. It would be ok for her to stay a while if she didn’t upset anything. The rest of her family would be back for dinner soon, and she would need a plan to make sure everything went smoothly. Inky would have no problem meeting with her. She was a very kind mare, with more charisma than herself. Clyde could be fairly blunt, but he was a kind stallion. She could see no situation where her father would turn down a poor lost filly, but she would have to take precautions against his tactlessness making her cry. Clay could potentially be a problem. She was a competitive filly, but as long as her father was around she would behave. Blinky would need to be careful not to leave them alone together.

“We’re going to be having dinner soon, but we always have extra. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

“Y—Yes. Thank you.” It was a sluggish response, but Blinky was finally starting to get through to her.

She would more than likely have to let the filly stay the night. She would be ok with that if it avoided conflict. Flow had caused her no troubles so far, and an extended stay was better than any sort of fight. Blinky would find out what happened to her and send her off in the kindest direction she could find. If she was happy, she wouldn’t come back.

Blinky would just have to play nice for a little while, and everything would be back to normal.