//------------------------------// // 1.6 - Dinnertime Scheming // Story: Ponies, Portals, and Physics: A Practical Study on Unscheduled Interplanetary Excursion // by superpurple //------------------------------// …Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four… The seconds on my watch ticked by with agonizing slowness. …Thirty-five. Thirty-six… To mix things up, I was laying on the floor—which, honestly, wasn’t that much more uncomfortable than the bed. The gratuitous amounts of fluff and fuzz on my back provided ample padding, which was more than that sorry excuse of a mattress could ever claim. …Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Zero-zero. Both the second and minute counters rolled over, the hour incrementing. The digital display now read 17:00. Nearly a whole day had passed since the accident. Y’know, it was kinda funny. My wristwatch had been there, sitting on my arm, all morning—I’d even used it a few times—but not until now did it strike me as strange. Having the watch on my wrist was normal. It was a familiar weight that was always present. I didn’t even register it. If I took it off, now that felt strange. It was the same thing with glasses; you only notice when they’re missing. Things that are normal are unnoteworthy. The sky is blue. Gravity works. Watch is on wrist. But within the context of the current situation, the fact that I was still wearing my watch wasn’t so dismissible. Why? Why was it here when all my other clothes and possessions were missing in action? What made it special? If all my stuff was gone, then I could just assume it all got lost in whatever fuckery turned me into a griffon. Lost in space, dissolved into the aether, whatever. Except clearly it hadn’t all just disappeared because this stupid hunk of rubber and circuitry was still right here stuck to my arm, mocking me. It didn’t make any sense. …Which really shouldn’t keep coming as a surprise. Nothing else made sense, why should this? I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through my nose. Remember step two: don’t think too hard about it. Still, while the why or how weren’t important, if my watch was here, then there was a non-zero chance that the rest of the things I’d had on me were here as well. Just not in this room. So I should probably add ‘finding out where my stuff is’ to my list of objectives—a list that I was making no progress on shortening, and probably wouldn’t be until what’s-her-face returned. She’d said she’d be back in the evening, but that had been almost five hours ago and I had no idea how much longer it would be. And all I could do in the meantime was wait. …Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen… Left hand. Right hand. Right foot. Left foot. Front left. Front right. Back right. Back left. One, two, four, three. One, two, four, three. When counting seconds had started to strain my sanity, I’d tried napping. When I’d started seeing seven-segment digits tick by in the darkness, I turned to pacing in an attempt to quell the restlessness caused by a whole day of sitting around. One, two, four, three. Repeat. I was pretty sure that was the gait big-cats used. Though after thirty minutes it still felt off in a way I couldn’t quite identify. Maybe I should try diagonals? One-three then two-four? I’d been sticking with three-legs-grounded statically stable gaits, but I knew some quadrupeds walked like that, and it was similar in concept to a biped, so it might be worth giving it a shot. Carefully, I lifted my front right and back left legs off the ground and prepared to step forward… “Hey, Birdy? You still here or did you find a way out on your own?” The familiar voice echoed down the hall. I lost my balance with a surprised, “Squark!” and fell onto my face. “Guess not.” I picked myself up off the floor and bounded over my spot at the door. What’s-her-face was carefully walking down the hall. The alien—No. Earlier, she’d called her kind ponies. The pony1 was balancing, not one, but two trays on her back while she walked. ---------- 1Step Two was being exercised at full force. ---------- She continued past the door to where a small table stood against the hallway wall. One at a time, she removed the trays from her back with her mouth and set them on the table. “What’ve you got?” I asked her. “Did you find anything?” “What I’ve got… is dinner.” She picked up one of the trays and brought it over to me. I grabbed it from her. “Hope you like salad.” I navigated the tray between the bars, careful not to spill the contents of either the bowl or the glass resting on it, and then set it down on the floor. Sure enough, the bowl contained a somewhat fancy-looking2 salad; the glass, milk. I tried not to think about where the milk had come from. ---------- 2Well, fancy compared to what I usually make. I.e. a bowl of plain lettuce. ---------- The sound of wood scraping on stone came from outside the door and a fuzzy brown face popped up in the window, looking down at me while I was bent over. “Nice dress,” she said with a smirk. “It really accentuates your flank.” I sheepishly adjusted my perfectly-manly-outfit and sat my butt back down by the door. The pony pulled her face back from the window as I peered through it to see what had made all the noise. Evidently, she’d dragged the table with her dinner over in front of the door, as well as a small wooden box that she was currently standing on. She sat down and buried her muzzle in her bowl of salad. Thankfully, my own came with a fork to use, so I wouldn't have to attempt something similar with a beak. I grabbed up the utensils and bowl and stabbed at the leaves. “Food is always appreciated, but how about something to help with this?” I rapped a knuckle on one of the metal bars between us. She pulled her face out of the bowl and spoke around a mouthful of salad. “No luck finding the key. Graywall must keep it close. I also tested the waters a little with some of the other staff. Nopony seemed even the least bit interested in going against the boss. So no help there.” She finished chewing and swallowed. “Looks like we’ve got to find another way to get you out.” Well, that complicated things. “Is there no one else who can help? Like police or something?” Assuming they even had police here. She shook her head. “Not really. The local authorities would most likely just side with Graywall.” She held up one hoof. “On one side, there’s you, the cat burglar. On the other”—she brought up the other forehoof—“is the local noble whose business makes up most of the town. I’ll let you guess whose word the sheriff would trust.” She ducked her head and scooped up another mouthful of greens. “No, if you want somepony who would actually listen and do something about it, we’d need to bring this to the guard.” “I sense a ‘but’ coming.” She nodded. “Buuut they’re in the next town over and you don’t have time for that. I don’t expect Graywall will want to hold you here for long if he is planning on doing something. Which means you’re stuck with just me. So, Birdy… You’re the expert on breaking and entering, what do we need to go about breaking and exiting?” Crap. I was starting to regret letting her believe I was a burglar. Sure, it was easier than correcting her, but I was kinda out of my depth here. I needed to think of something quick, or else I’d have to try explaining how I’d [really] gotten in. “Maybe you can find a crowbar, or an ax? That’d get the door open.” Not the most elegant solution, but undeniably effective. She gave me a level look. “An ax? Hmm…” Her brow furrowed. “Something like that would be in the shed, if anywhere. Problem is… my job to clean and cook.” She motioned to the bowl. “If I wanted into the shed, I’d have to ask the groundskeeper. And that would almost certainly draw attention. I’m on thin ice as it is just sneaking down here. This thing?” She motioned between the two of us with her hoof. “We really don’t want Graywall to catch wind of it.” “And decide to upgrade me to express shipping,” I completed with a sigh. She shook her head. “We’re going to need something a little more sneaky-like if this is going to work. Like how you got in, for example.” I snorted. “Because that went so well.” “Okay, yeah,” she conceded with a roll of her eyes. “Sure, you got busted, but you got in, didn’t you? Graywall has had ponies going around checking every window and door in the manor. They still don’t know how you did that.” Hah. Welcome to the club. Population: everyone. Though, something about that was a little disconcerting. They had no idea about the interplanetary mirror portal thing? You’d think someone would be aware they had something like that in their basement. If it was actually there. There could very well be no magical portal home. Okay, no, you need to stop that. We’re not doing this again. Yes, the plan is dumb. We already knew that, but it’s all we’ve got. So be helpful or shut it. “Guhh.” I rubbed my temples. Come on Garrett, you can do this. You may not be catbird burglar they thought you were, but you can still figure this out. What kind of prospective engineer would I be if I couldn’t solve a simple problem like being locked in a primitive prison cell? It was a simple wooden door. It wasn’t even metal, this shouldn’t be a problem. Why was this a problem? “Other than the fact that I don’t have any tools?” I muttered to myself. “Hell, it wouldn’t even have to be proper tools. If I just had the stuff I had on me, I could probably get it open.” “Your stuff?” the pony asked. She was staring at me with ears perked. I hadn’t even realized I was speaking out loud. I should probably be more careful talking to myself before I say something stupid. I forced a grin. “Errr, yes?” Well, might as well use an opportunity when it presents itself, even if it’s most likely a dumb one. “Say, when whoever it was found me, they didn’t happen to find anything with me, did they? Some clothes? Or a black bag, perhaps?” “I don’t know. I wasn’t nearby when that happened,” she said. Oh well, worth a try. I don’t know what— “Though now that you mention it…” She tapped her chin with a hoof. “I think I might have seen a bag like that earlier. It did strike me as somewhat out of place.” “Wait, really?” I sat up straight and leaned close to the door. “Heavy black bag? Has the initials ‘GG’ in white on the top?” She grinned. “Yeah. That sounds right. And you’ve got tools in there that can help?” “It certainly couldn’t hurt,” I said. And if it actually was my stuff, I’d rather not have to find it myself or leave it behind if I ever made it out of here. “Ok,” she said and hopped off her crate. “Let me go get it. Hopefully nopony has moved it since I saw it last. Hold tight, Birdy.” While she left to retrieve what might be my backpack, I finished off the rest of my salad. It was pretty good, as far as vegetarian meals go. After a few minutes, the sound of clopping hooves returned. She came down the stairs and into view, a pair of large black saddlebags hanging across her back. Compared to her small frame, the bags were massive, yet she seemed to have no problem carrying them. She stopped by the door where I could see and cocked her head up at me. “Look familiar?” Oddly enough, they did. The saddlebags were made of a familiar black nylon. They looked like my backpack, but if someone had separated the two main pouches into the own bags and then strung them together at the top using the shoulder straps. The stitching and construction were identical—as if it had come from the factory like that. And sure enough, right at the top of the bag facing me were the initials G.G. embroidered in white. “Uhhh, yup.” I guess so. I shouldn’t be that surprised. If I can become a griffon, my backpack can become saddlebags. Just don’t think about it. “Alright then.” She stepped up onto the crate and arched her back. I reached one arm through the bars and lifted the bags off her back by the strap. It was something of a team effort to get them through, she helped hold the bags up on her side of the door while I pulled them through. I set the bags down and unzipped one of them. If I had doubts the bags were mine before, seeing the contents silenced them. On the top of the bag before me were various electrical test tools and one mostly-functional, slightly-melted, breadboard circuit. I guess I could check “finding out where my stuff is” off the to-do list. Well, sorta. My clothes were still MIA but it was a start. And after a whole day of getting absolutely nowhere, even the smallest step forward felt huge. My thoughts were interrupted by a fuzzy brown muzzle popping up in the window once again. “These were also with the bags. Are they yours too?” Balanced on the end of her nose was a pair of glasses. “Yeah. Probably.” I took them and put them on, blinking rapidly as my eyes refocused. The nose pads didn’t quite fit the bridge of my beak, and the lack of ears for the arms to rest on was an interesting complication. I had to settle for tucking them into the feathers on the side of my head and hoping for the best. With newly acquired clarity, I went back to inspecting the contents of my bags. Fortunately, the lab equipment hadn’t suffered any visible damage in the crash. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of any way that a multimeter or USB oscilloscope could help me out of this room, so I and set it aside to get at the items beneath. My laptop was a similar situation. A quick inspection confirmed it to be completely intact and also completely useless—unless I decided to give up and play minesweeper until the battery died. Under those were my textbooks and notebooks. One by one I pulled them out of the way and set them in a stack. The pony watched me do this, her chin resting on her hooves, elbows propped up in the window. “Those don’t look like any burglar’s tools that I know of,” she commented. “Are you quite familiar with many burglar’s tools?” I countered, setting another book on the stack. “I suppose not, but I don’t see how a book on…” she peered down the top of the stack. “‘Semiconductors and Microelectronic Circuits’—whatever that means—will help here.” “Hey, never underestimate the utility of a properly designed analog bandpass filter,” I said. She just frowned at me. “But no. You’re right. They’re not burglar’s tools. These here”—I gestured to the items I’d pulled out so far—“are essential survival tools…” She frowned harder. “…To survive the hazardous environment of a Griffonstone University classroom,” I finished with a dumb grin. Her frown lessened and she cocked her head. “You’re a student?” “Does that surprise you?” I said while I went through the bag before me. There was nothing else of interest in that pouch—just miscellaneous school supplies—so I opened the other one. Sitting on top was my cell phone. The hell? Why was my phone in here? I’d had it in my pants pocket when I crashed. “Sort of? I suppose I don’t think of academics as the kind to—well, y’know…” she made a vague gesture with her hoof in my general direction. “With how much those books cost, I’m surprised more don’t resort to robbery. It wouldn’t be the worst idea…” I replied, my attention focused on the phone. I had to use my knuckle to interact with the touchscreen because of the talons, but I eventually managed to unlock the device. Unsurprisingly, the status bar reported no cell signal and no location fix. But just to be sure, I walked on three legs over to the wall with the window, opened the GPS status app and held the phone next to the glass. Even with a clear view of the evening sky, not a single satellite was detected. Not even weakly. So… yeah. I was definitely on the wrong planet. That was a thing. Since there almost certainly wasn’t going to be any WiFi routers nearby to connect to, I disabled all the phone’s wireless capabilities to help save battery power. I was about to put it to sleep when an idea struck me. A few taps of my knuckle later and the screen filled with the image of a rather surprised looking bird. For the first time since I’d woken up in a new body, I could see my face. I shuddered. There is something deeply unsettling about looking at yourself when the face looking back at you is not your own, let alone a different species altogether. I quickly took a few pictures and then closed the camera app. It was just a little too weird to deal with at the moment. Continuing my inventory of the saddlebags’ contents, I pulled out the next item: the bundle of red and black plaid wool that was my winter coat. A small grin came to my face. In an effort to annoy Jack, I’d stopped wearing it the day the calendar said it was spring, even though it was cold enough outside that Jack still wore a heavy parka. It was a remarkably successful effort, I might add, because I kept reminding him about it at every opportunity. Of course, I’d still kept it with me, rolled up and hidden away at the bottom of my bag just in case because, as he’d correctly pointed out, “random blizzards out of nowhere” were still a thing we had to worry about. I chuckled quietly at the memory as I unrolled it and threw it on. Or rather, as close to on as I could manage. My torso was a different shape and it had to go overtop the wings, but it more-or-less fit if I didn’t zip it up all the way. The way it shifted around on my fur and feathers was also a bit distracting. A stifled snort came from the door. Right. I had an audience. And I was probably something of a sight: a griffon wearing a bedsheet toga, plaid, and poorly fitting glasses. “Just say it,” I groaned. She had her hoof over her muzzle, suppressing her giggles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I look ridiculous,” I said flatly. She threw up her forehooves defensively, a huge grin plastered across her face. “Your words, not mine.” “Meh,” I said, and returned to my mission. Lucky for me, my search had finally come to an end as I’d found the things I was hoping to: my multitool and folding knife. Just like my phone—and apparently, everything else I’d had in my pockets—they’d somehow made it into my backpack-turned-saddlebags despite being in my pants at the time of the crash. Pants that were still nowhere to be seen. I turned to my companion and asked, “Is this everything?” “Pretty sure.” “No other clothing?” She shook her head. “That and the glasses were all that I saw.” I grumbled. Damn portal stole my pants. As I pulled the two tools out of my bag, the gears in my head started turning. The door to the room didn’t have any hinges or visible mechanism on the inside, and I couldn’t exactly see the other side. Or rather, I hadn’t been able to before. Among the many assorted school supplies I kept in my backpack were a roll of tape and a ruler. Using a bit of tape, I stuck my phone to the end of the ruler, opened the camera app, then stuck it and my arm between the bars in the door. The pony leaned out of the way, watching curiously as I fiddled with the contraption. “What are you doing? What is that thing?” She motioned to my phone. “Inspecting the lock. And a burglar’s tool,” I replied simply, my attention focused on the phone’s screen and the live view of the outside of the door. When I’d tried before, I wasn’t able to reach the door’s handle or lock, but this solved that problem. With some fiddling, I determined the location of the keyhole. From there it was simple: bring the phone back in, set the camera to take a burst of images with the flash after a delay, put the lens as close to the keyhole as I could, and voila! Several high-resolution images of the interior of the locking mechanism. It wasn’t a very advanced lock. Not by a long shot. The keyhole was large, the design was simple. I could see all the parts straight through to the back. It was embarrassingly low security, actually. I was by no means a master-burglar, but I would have no trouble picking it if I was sitting in front of it. The problem was, I wasn’t sitting in front of it, I was sitting behind it. Which was where the other tools came in. Hopefully. I ran my hand over the wooden beam that spanned the interior of the door. It was at the same elevation as the keyhole on the other side. It also wasn’t the same type of wood as the rest of the door. It was softer; pressing a talon into it left a mark. I had a theory. Which, if correct, would mean a way out of here. I just needed to test it. I grabbed my knife and flicked it open. In one swift motion, I stabbed it down between the beam and the plank it was nailed to, prying one end of the beam outward. It only moved a few millimeters, but that was enough. Using the flashlight on my phone, I peered into the gap to confirm my theory. Visible in the crack was the other side of the lock, complete with a keyhole of its own. Apparently, at some point in the past, there had been a renovation. The interior handle had been removed, the keyhole had been covered up with the beam and I assumed the barred window added as well. A room that had never been intended for the purpose had been converted into a makeshift holding cell. Lucky for me, it hadn’t been done to meet any rigorous security standards. “Yeah. I can make this work.” I yanked the knife out of the door, folded it shut and slid it into my breast pocket. I looked up at the pony, who had been watching me intently the whole time. “It’ll take some time, but I can get this door open.” She sat up, ears perked. “Oh. Oh! Good!” She hopped down from her box. “Are you sure?” “Certain,” I said with a confident nod. “Well, if we’ve got that sorted, we should probably wait until later before breaking you out.” She reared up and planted her forehooves on the side of the table, then started pushing it back to its original location. “It’ll be better for us to do it later tonight when there aren’t many ponies in the halls.” Us? She wanted to be a part of this? That wasn’t going to work for me. I needed to find and get to whichever room had the mirror-portal in it. I would have a hard time doing that with an escort intent on getting me out of the building quickly. I needed to convince her to let me go at it alone. “I will wait until later. You should probably go back to being inconspicuous. You did great, but I can take it from here.” She stopped shoving the table and frowned. “But I can help. Either with the door or at least with helping you get out quickly and unnoticed. I know the building like the back of my hoof.” she protested. And that was exactly what I was trying to avoid. “That may be true, but it's easier for one person to sneak around than two. Someone might notice if you get up and come down here.” Her ears flattened back and she bit her lip. “Umm, errr…” I kept pushing. “Besides, if someone is going to notice this whole thing, it's better I get caught alone. No need for both of use to get in trouble. And you need to be able to report this to the guard, right?” After a few moments, her head slumped and she let out a sigh. “Yeah. Okay. You’re probably right.” She used her shoulder to shove the table the rest of the way. “Do you know the way to the exit?” she asked. “A reminder wouldn’t hurt.” Just so I knew which way not to go in my search for my actual exit. She motioned down the hall with a hoof. “Up those stairs, go right to the end of the hall. The door on the right leads to the main hall. You can find the door from there.” Her brow furrowed and she seemed to consider for a moment, then added, “And try not to get sidetracked along the way. It’s not that I care if Graywall gets robbed, it's just…” She met my gaze, her huge eyes boring into my soul. “You can be better, you know?” Dayum… I wasn’t even guilty of anything and this pony was making me feel bad. “Thanks. And don’t worry. I won’t.” I put my right hand over my heart. “I swear, getting out of this place is my only priority.” Which wasn’t a lie. I just wasn’t going to go the way she thought. She scrutinized me for a few moments, then gave a small nod. “Good. Tomorrow, when you’re out of here and out of danger I’m going to go to the guard and tell them all about this. I’ll have to tell them about you, so it's best if you’re nowhere to be found by then.” Her gaze sank and she stared solemnly at the floor. “…I don't know what I’ll do after that. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stick around here after this.” “Hey. Chin up. You’re doing a good thing here, and I really appreciate it.” I found my almost-empty glass of milk and raised it up through the door. “Here’s to hoping things go well.” Thankfully, she recognized the gesture and grabbed her own glass in the crook of her hoof. I lowered my arm so she could reach and she clinked her glass against mine, then drained its contents. I did the same, then added, “And may we never see one another again,” before putting the glass back on my tray with the bowl, handing them back through the door. She wordlessly took it and balanced it on her back beside her own. Slowly, she turned and walked away. Then she paused and looked back with an uncertain expression. Rolling my eyes, I gave her a reassuring smile and made a shooing motion with my hands. She weakly returned the smile, ears perking up a bit, and continued walking— leaving me just as alone as I was before, but now slightly more well equipped. I hummed thoughtfully to myself. I had a plan, and the tools to execute it. There was a prison break I needed to get to.