Dick Through looking glass: In search of Quarantine remedy. · 8:19am Jun 14th, 2018
Angelo looked out his window, and the landscape had the same geographic features, yet it was somehow shadier. Perhaps an optical illusion, it was. No one should suspect much different. It wasn't until he heard a strange call from the hall he took to his feet and stepped out. No one else stood there but his strangely shaped sister.
He had no specifically special talents nor skills of any kind, unless being cheap is a talent. Simply staying alive shouldn't be considered usual. It should not be considered special. He wanted more out of life, and he ended up looking after his sister who for the longest time had been his supporter and best friend. Lonely young man only desired sustenance, then some useful skill or talent. Being a drain is his worst nightmare. But he does, and he does not have any hopes of coming out of it. So good was this girl in sewing and stitching her own clothes, then his, too, she soon made it her career, then made cupcakes, then continued baking for hobbies. Outclassed at every turn, Angelo never thought he'd see the day his sister who got so far ahead of him in life would be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and be in need of his care. Barely able to avoid being turned out into the street, he had the upper hand, not by getting better position, but by her being regressed in mental state, and physically turning into something that looks like it came from another world.
Now he was thinking, "What a hot horse!" He wasn't thinking about getting better at anything, only keeping out of poverty, and trying to bargain his sister's shape back. And not get tainted. He wasn't especially successful. A yes and a no. How he'd get this strange stallion in his face to normal, he'd not know.
He'd been abducted by a strange woman, after so many others like her had tried to persuade him away from his home to help his twin sister out. One after the other, he turned them all away, convinced he'd not see her again, and they'd do worse things to the two of them. Demented ponies ready and willing to screw things up kept pestering the poor young lad to give her up or come along. He soon tired of this song. A tall lady with a period complex, clashing old with new shows up, and comes more than prepared. Having followed his girlfriend to his house, and tapped into intercom, and her radiophone, she disabled one defense after the next, and with her own reinforcements, proceeded to take all three of them by force when repeated persuasion, bargaining, and sheer intimidation all failed. He had less role then either of the other two, and felt like a third wheel in light of all of this. Finally, poor Angelo took his own head and tried with all of his might to go with the flow, and forget strange creatures have ever begun to show up on the face of the earth. Several others involved in this abduction operation showed them no outwardly ill intent, and tried to reassure them they only want to help, and clean up the mess one of their own has made.
Now he stood in a cabin in Colorado, and had the most extensive view of the Rocky Mountains he'd ever seen, but not under the circumstances he'd have wished. Now tight quarters he'd never dreamed he'd be stuck in were all he'd seen for five days, and he saw no sign of his detective friend. Only his sister, and she was even more chipper than usual, which itself was a stack contrast to her stern and serious self. She told him they'd been promised all of the peace and wholesomeness they dreamt of if they just step into a mirror, which sounded crazy to poor, dear Angelo, to Angela less so. He never thought he'd be so accustomed to weird things, more weirdness did not make him more weary or uneasy.
He followed her down the hallway and cast a glance backward to the window. How mush he wanted to take a dive out of this and put this silly horse business out of his head forever. But he has seen firsthand the futility of such a thing, and besides, he wants to trust them.
He opened the door Angela could not, and fed himself the image of what looked like a surreal plane, stranger then the one he saw outside. This didn't look like just a mere light show, but something that actively felt off. One day to the next, more off odd things continued to compile upon him. Nothing decorated this otherwise normal, rudimentary room, save the mirror in its center. A woman in a long, near floor length cerulean dress with a crescent moon stitched into it stood there at its side, a stern look on her face. She had an Angel's baseball cap on her head when first they saw her which clashed with her old timey clothing. She now had a silver crown with sapphires embedded in it in its place, and brilliant silver shoes. Her overall demeanor hadn't changed that much, she's simply less restrained now than she was. Fu-- no.
"I'm so glad I could see you two here. You have no idea how much this means to me, Missuer, Mum. You'll like what you'll see, i guarantee. You will soon have the juiciest apples you have ever bit into, and taste the most wholesome atmosphere you have ever inhaled in. I promise you can come straight back, though you may not want to. You'll be back to normal physically, though with this knowledge, and seeing this place, neither of you will ever be the same."
He almost wanted to punch her in the face, but restrained from doing so. Was this some kind of joke? This cabin a fun house?
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I opened up my eyes, and shut them at once. The light was blinding, and it took a while to adjust. Getting incapacitated again wasn't my intent, nor in my own best interests. After several minutes, I did, but not with any sense of eagerness. I had some idea what I would be Looking at when I finally got here, but even this didn't take the novelty away from it. It was still a shocker to see a world that looked like an illustration come to life.
Giant mountains bigger than any I had ever seen stood in the distance. They all looked identical in shape and size, and even the textures were like one another. Clouds were nowhere to be seen, yet my skin does not burn. I had been unknowingly standing on a large, grassy hill among rolling hills. Behind me was a very large, very thick looking forest, giant trees the likes of which I have never quite seen. In front of me were grass and wildflower fields ending in what looks like a big apple orchard, rows and rows of perfectly aligned tress full of red, yellow and green apples. Nestled in the middle of them was a large red barn, next to a moderate looking farmhouse. A town stood beyond it, a single main street with a large platform at the end of it, and what looked like train tracks. The entire town was surrounded by what looked like a huge desert, save the side I was on. The apple groves, grassy hills, then foreboding, mysterious forest were the only thing keeping that place from being an oasis.
When I looked closer, there seemed to be somep- Some body next to the nearest tree to me at the end of the row. A lady, it seems, and an au naturale one at that. She has no clothes on at all, and this allowed me to see a mark on her right hip that looked like a shield, or the US interstate highway sign. She had bright ginger hair, a red that I have rarely seen on anyone's scalp. Something told me this was that AB girl that Lyle Harper told me about.
The first thing I did after turning myself around was to try standing up. It did not go so well. I had become accustomed to sensitive hearing, and keeping a cap on my head remedied that just fine, save when I was in private.
I had never given thought to the real importance to having all senses at their peak, regardless of the circumstance. I often wished I hadn't joined the force, but keeping ponies safe had been my greatest concern for the longest time. I hadn't ever wanted to precipitate mass death, as that is not a core trait of mine, but I had also come to accept there are circumstances where killing is unavoidable. Death is simply a natural and acceptable thing, and only hopeless fools think otherwise.
I had tried again, and this time, I was successful. For the better part of three minutes, I was successful. No matter. I don't think I'll be missed all that much, as there's always more cops to spare, never a shortage of new recruits. I think I should be grateful to be alive, whatever happens, and think about walking beyond all else. After three or four minutes, I eventually do, and get rich on it. I start walking, and it does not feel unnatural to do so. I'd have thought thinking about each limb and actively putting each in its place in a walking motion would be best, but it seems that's not the case, and I'm walking without giving it much thought, other than "I'm walking".
I only got passing viewings from that overrated kid's show everypo-- "EVERYBODY" is so enamored about. But this landscape doesn't look all that strange to me. I am most certainly awake, and this is very real, and I am perceiving a world where everything looks likes part of a painting. Everything is far too perfect, some things seem too simple, and those hills in particular, while they have visible stones, trees, and dirt on them, all have very exact patterns on them, almost as if they were manufactured.
I took a breath on the way down, and realized the scent of daisies wasn't quite what it was. They were the same, only far more powerful than they were before. I stumbled, then went backwards for a sec. Every minute I spent here, I began to feel more at home, and less like an alien in an alien world, which I was weary of. This is precisely what the Equestrians would want, and think abandoning home is a good thing. Had they said might I would be on board, but there's people in need of my service, assistance to dole out, and I have been taken away from it. These enticing scents aren't making it easy. Step by step, breath by breath, I came closer to the house and its owner, and I dreaded what my first interaction with that girl would be.
Her ears pricked up, and her head turned in my direction. She was on a ladder holding an apple, and immediately put it down, into a wooden barrel, into a pushcart. It was kind of odd how this grass was like carpet more so than grass, yet nothing was synthetic about it. Incredible. Yet it is very likely normal and natural to this lady. Same with her ability to use clumsy limbs like delicate tweezers. She raised a forelimb in my direction as if she expected me to do something about it, then put it down when it became clear nothing was going to happen, and I wasn't doing anything.
"You's that detective from Earth, ain't cha? Come right this way. We shall not dilly dally, eh." HMM?
"Ma’am, I want only to go home, now that I am here, and that was all Lulu promised me. She coerced me into this weird place, and I do not want to stick around any longer than I absolutely have to."
She looked ever so slightly dejected at this, but nodded and led me toward her house. How many cases of this sort had she seen? Why was there more process than simply coming and going? I'd find out soon enough.
Once inside, she tended to a few bruises I did not know I had, and I found out they roughed me up pretty good back home before they sent me here. Yet they did not hurt as much here, as my physical shape is dramatically altered, and had been since I came here. Did this horse body have better tolerance to pain, and have more rapid recovery? I had always presumed rapid recovery was a distinctly human trait as it had been on Earth. Maybe ponies of my sort, and more specifically hers were the same here, doubly.
She produced a crystal from a burlap sack, and spoke into it as you would a microphone. After a brief few hiccups, very loud ones at that, she spoke to somebody in tongue I hadn't been previously exposed to. An image appeared in the reflective gem, and a face had appeared. Another one of them, of teal and aquamarine colors, and brilliant wavy hair that looked to me to be very old timey. Quite sophisticated looking I'd say.
"Who's that dizzy looking mare with you?"
"Another Earthling. You got any more needles, Cupcake? "
"Oh, one of them. No, I am sorry, dearest. After the flight camp disaster, I have run fresh out. Only baking supplies here, right now."
"Shoot." "What is up, miss?" I ask her. She explains.
"By coming here, you become contagious. That poison that tainted so many in your world came from here. After several came back, they also brought back strains that undo and reveal recessed traits. It unfortunately had unintended side effects."
Unintended? Did they plan this, and it went awry?
"But enough of that. You may be here for a day or two, but my good friend Cupcake will look after you."
"No, no, absolutely not. This is unacceptable. I've--"
"If I may," the baker, and I surmise she must be one, what with there being an apron beneath her neck, and the way she's being spoken about, and batter is on her cheek talked to me, "You are more than welcome to stay at the bakery here with me until the new needles come in. You'll not regret it, darling." There she goes again. Darling, dearest, what term of endearment will be next? I have no desire to get chummy with any ponies here for any reason, only to do what they ask of me, clean myself up, and forget I ever saw this place.
"That would be very kind and generous, but I must decline. Speed things along, shall we?"
"I am afraid it is not that simple, miss. There is an entire order to fill. In the meantime, why not stick around and have a doughnut?"
The last thing I need is a greasy doughnut.
"Look, Miss Cupcake,-" "You don't need the 'Miss"'.
"As much as I do appreciate good Samaritans, and hospitality, I have duties to get to. Please."
She seemed taken aback, but I suspect she's seen enough cases like this. Unless ponies here have trouble mentally immunizing themselves to things, and are in a constant state of empathy as well as sensitivity that does not harden, she's putting on an act for me to win me over. And the lack of needles is making me crazy, like there's so many ponies here that needed shooting, they exhausted themselves. I want to think of her as an abusive bitch, but she's being too kind in her first impression, and it's not helping she sounds exactly like that Cerulean lady who took me here. I state this latter fact to her, which makes her laugh.
"I get that a lot. They also tell me I sound like my good friend Rare, and that my twins sound precisely like me. And Ditzy."
Speak of the devils, an identical sounding voice calls for her. "See you soon," she closes her statements, then shuts us out. I didn't even think that much of it at the time, but I just spoke to a woman through what looked like a plain crystal. And I was thrown at a mirror, and plopped on the ground, as if I were being thrown to the ground in the first place. If things get any weirder today...
My immediate hostess takes me to the driver, and leads me to the edge of the apple orchard. Another ladder stood at the opposite end of it, and it had a clear fence, which the rest of the property did not, and somepony had been leaning on the inside of the wall, or gate, they were so close I could not tell. Like the brilliant red haired lady I had spent the last ten minutes with, this one was likewise au naturale, and had an identical shield mark on her hip. Overhead, a call came, "Hey, ya."
A heavy thud had been made, and a muscular, well toned and built mare dropped in front of us, and grinned widely. “Howdy, missuer.”
"I thought I had heard some commotion going on that'a ways west. And who may this be, AB?" She set down the woven thistle basket and offered a hoof, which I refused.
"You know what, I did not ask. What's yer name, miss?"
I told them my first and last.
"Well, it sure is nice to meet you, Monica."
The other's demeanor is contagious. "The pleasure is all mine. And this is?" AB introduces me to what she calls her best friend, Scoot Trotter, and Jacqueline, who I presumed to be either her cousin or sister, but I did not ask, nor did she tell.
I could not say for certain, of course, but something told me these ponies were being honest about everything but their names. I wanted to believe them, but I suspected they didn't want to get tracked down, and they did not carry IDs, which likely is not necessary in this place.
Jacqueline turned her back to me and gave me a nice view of her hot rear, I had not seen a woman with such a full rump. Out of respect, I did not say anything, though I would later learn ponies of this sort here aren't afraid to speak their minds, and are very open, and unafraid to be loose.
After fixing several leather straps, and a wood and leather harness to her shoulder and chest, she gestured to trot over, which I did, then sprinted. She immediately began to trot, causing several apples to bob she was carrying, then Scoot and Applebalm, which turned out to be her name, or so she said to me, hopped onto this here larger mare's back, and told me it still impresses them how much weight this one mare can bear, and she only gets better. I was impressed myself.
There wasn't a single lamppost on the entire main and sole street, and the whole place was very old timey looking. A whole lot of guys stood there, and glanced at me politely, and a minority glared rudely. Most of them likely knew everypony local, and strange ones from elsewhere will draw attention Oddly enough, most of them had some form of garment, yet they all seemed particular about covering a certain portion of themselves, and no it was not that one, but similar region. Some even had plain regular cloaks, yet they cut the area down round the pelvic region.
I tried not to look at them, as I did not wish to be crass, yet Jacqueline told me not to keep shut up. Ponies round here are very open about that kind of thing, and don't try to hide things without practical purpose.
Daisies and roses and tulip filled the air with their sweet aroma, and I caught eyes on that bouquet stand. It's incredible, the way my senses spiked. I had heightened hearing for the last four months, now my vision and sense of smell are nearly overwhelming me, and it's likely normal to these ponies. Several girls with name tags stood out front, all three of which had flowery names: Violet, Daisy, and Rose, the latter of which seemed to pique AB's interest to tell me, like I want to get acquainted. "Those three are notorious drama queens, especially Rose, who has threatened suicide several times, but no one takes her seriously. It has become a recurring gag with her"
"As God is my witness," Jackie interjected.
A shadow overcame us, and I reflexively looked up in slight alarm to see something zooming by overhead. Vast wingspan, feathered wings, some mammalian traits, but it went by so quickly I could not get a good look, not that I needed to. I'd seen enough of these strange, weird birds at home to last a lifetime, and I don't care to ever again. I think I like them the least, given agility, and lack of predictability because of it, though theirs are the most frail bodies, and break quite easily should you get a clear shot, not that I want to.
Fortunately, most weren't in any way avian in nature, and way more had batlike wings, which I thought were cool. They were swift, but not invisible swift, and I'd take them over bird wings any day given the choice.
None of my current party even flinched, or responded in any way to the shadows, not even after I tried to visually cue them. They must see enough of that everyday.
We arrived at the bakery, and a large sign hung in front reading Sugar Cube Corner. On this bright clear day, an enclosed, shaded place was welcome to me. Just to the right after stepping in was that mare from earlier, and she was selling something to a customer. A pie it looked like. When the customer turned around, she revealed sapphire like eyes and a coat that made me envious. The pie was hovering over her head in midair, and I had wondered how it was doing that. She seemed just a tad overdressed, most so than everyone I have seen to this point, save Lu. Fitting, as she sounded exactly like her and Cupcake. "Excuse me, darling." Her cloak swished in the slight breeze of the door, revealing a regular looking long dress beneath it. How many layers of clothes did this lady have on, in addition to her coat? How is she not sweating bricks?
"Hush-ah! There you are!" Before I knew what was happening, she was over the counter top, cross the floor and at the door and somehow grabbed onto my right forelimb and dragged me up the staircase to a short corridor. "Monica is it?" I nodded. "Now don't you worry your little head in the least, dearest, as I have just the place for you. We always have a vacant room or two." We passed up two where I could hear whispers coming from them, both of which had identical voices in them, both complaining about being bed ridden, and sounded like more abrasive version of this frantic, scatterbrained baker. She did it. She immediately laid me down flat on the bed, physically laying an 'oof on my shoulder and pushing me down. "You must be famished! I'll be back with doughnuts."
And she was gone. Before i could even count to five, another mare had stepped into the room, and this one was even more energetic, like she was on a sugar rush and caffeine at once. She was real jittery. The hyper died down at once when she observed how blank I looked, and likely sensed I was down in the dumps. I hadn't even noticed she had a tray with a cherry pie in it in an upturned hoof until her mood went somber.
"I brought you some breakfast, miss-"
"Smith. Monica Smith."
"I heard you are staying here for the next three days. That's so cool!" she piped up again. She's like a yoyo.
"Not if I have anything to say about it, I won't. I sleep here, but for one night only."
"Oh. Okay."
"So, do you live here, miss?"
"I sure do! I work here, too. I have spent the better part of my life living and working in this bakery, and the Cakes never charge me rent or nothing."
"The Cakes..."
"They are the family that have owned this place for the last two decades, and I spent one and a half of them here as a residence and employment site. I'm like a daughter to them. Even though they have a real daughter of their own, and a son, too. You probably heard their groaning earlier on the way to this room."
"Isn't there something strange about an adult mare living with another, or with a couple?"
"No, that's how things are here in Eques. Two mares and a stallion living under one roof is the norm."
"Pinkie! You're not talking the nice mare's ears off, I hope."
Cupcake reentered to give me tray full of doughnuts.
Maybe this isn't so bad after all, I thought. That's when her mane started to glow. She pulled out the gem and asked who it was. The apple girl. Jacqueline just told Cupcake two more ponies have just showed up, crossed over. Are they my friends? One way to find out.
I don't know why you keep using the word "missuer" given this story does not take place in France, but just in case you ever write one in France, it's spelled "monsieur."
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Merci.
I say it so often, but write it down, not so much. I'm being phonetic.
Soon, I will write something titled "Flight Camp Disaster," and it involves the Cakes twins getting injured. It won't be very long, but it will explain what landed them in their rooms indefinitely.
It always amused me how most of them have nearly the exact same voice, and there's little variation. This happens when one VA does most of the supports and extras in addition to one of the mains. Especially when she consistently devours the scenery in nearly every role, and never did one that was laid back.
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But what would that matter in a real place? Equestria isn't a television show, it's a world. It isn't animated, there are no voice actors, etc.
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I would agree on that. Yet when you make shows based on reality, there will inevitably be truths stretched, things that are factual as well as fictitious aspects. It's extremely minute they'll sound totally identical outside of word choice, but taking that stretch, that astronomical probability, I think it would carry over into their portrayals. Less flattering and insulting things get downplayed and/or omitted, but there's nothing to be ashamed of in resemblance.
Have you ever known anyone who was particularly theatrical all their own right?