It’s almost time for the show to start. I can see the shadows they cast as they mill around outside the curtains, illuminated by the bright house lights.
I’m not really sure where I am. It’s not Trixie’s carriage, and the stage isn’t big enough for it to be a theatre, so it’s probably some café. Apparently being ripped through universes and getting beaten senseless still isn't enough to merit playing at a prestigious venue.
I wonder if they can see me through the curtains. Probably not. They may be thin enough to see shadows through, but doesn’t the fact that I can see their shadows mean that they can’t see mine? I think that’s the way light works.
Funny. Humans are obsessed with light. We can’t get enough of the stuff. So you would think that your average human would know a little more about it. What a joke.
But this is no time for jokes. I don't think I need to clarify that slavery is no laughing matter.
As if existence itself is trying to prove me wrong, a small round of laughter drifts through the curtains. Whatever joke had been told to make ponies watching a slave-show laugh, it must have been the most hilarious combination of words ever assembled.
I suppose this is the moment of truth. When those curtains open, Somepony will either try and help me, or they’ll just sit and watch.
I can’t imagine the ponies of Equestria just sitting by watching me be forced into slavery… but then again, I never could have imagined Trixie holding me down while my hair was incinerated.
I am seated at the ‘house piano’. Too much to ask that it would be a grand, of course. Why would Murphy’s Law ever grant me something like that? Everything was clearly going so well that I would be able to cope with a lesser piano for a public performance.
I suppose I’ll suffer for doing this. Trixie wants me to play Fur Elise, but I’ve got other plans. If I’m going to play, I’m going to play what I want, and to hell with the consequences.
My gaze runs up the length of the piano. It isn’t as beaten up as the one I have at home, and much cleaner than the one down in the basement of this place – which is where Trixie has been keeping me.
As if on cue, Trixie approaches from one side, giving me a decidedly confusing look of warmth and anticipation.
“It’s almost time to start.” She glances at the piano. “The owner assures me that the piano is in tune.”
I have nothing to say to her, and yet her demeanour does not change. This 'not evil' Trixie is starting to worry me.
“So let me go over this again. You will play your piece, and if they ask for more, I will signal you to play more. You are not to speak to the audience. Nopony wants to hear you talk, and I don’t want the crowd getting angry.”
That last remark bites. Is that what humans are to these ponies? Slaves? What if there’s a whole different Equestria out there, where humans exist, and are enslaved to ponies?
No. That’s unlikely. If it were true, Trixie would hardly have needed to rip me out of my own universe. She would have been able to find a human right here in Equestria.
For some reason Trixie seems to take my silence as confirmation that I have heard her, because she trots over to the curtains as the house lights go down, immersing both sides of the curtain in gloomy darkness.
I looked down at the piano keys glumly as Trixie stepped out on stage, suddenly illuminated by a spotlight.
“Mares and Gentlecolts! The Great and Powerful Trixie…”
There were a few irritated mutterings from the audience, which was enough to make me feel a tad better.
“…Proud to present a sight not seen in Equestria since before the time of Celestia. A legendary foe of the pony, which Trixie was able to best.”
There were a few more murmurs in the audience, and I had to scoff at the river of bullshit that must have been rolling of the stage by now.
“Trixie gives you the amazing piano playing ability of... a human.” Trixie steps to one side, keeping in line with the left curtain as it and its twin slid open, exposing me to the crowd.
At the same time, I feel the pressure of her magic in my mind, and the mental command ‘play’ echoes through my head.
Obeying her command, I raise my hands to the keys and then bring them back down, starting out with the first notes of The Portrait, from Titanic.
As I begin, all I can think of is whether or not any of the ponies in the audience will help me. Surely they aren't going to just stand by and watch as I am pressed into slavery. Somepony will speak up. They have to.
That thought is wiped out as Trixie makes herself known within my mind. She can’t send an actual message - such as her voice - but she can definitely convey emotion, and what I’m getting is irritation, accompanied by frustration and a little bit of pleasure. I suppose the song I’m playing must please her, but she still seems angry that I’ve gone against her wishes.
My hands don’t falter as they move over the keys, but inside my mind my thoughts have been thrown into turmoil. All these emotions that don’t belong to me, some of them in direct conflict with my own… It’s off-putting. If this keeps up, I'll start making mistakes... Unless Trixie's magic is ensuring that I don't mess up.
The audience is remaining dead silent, and I’m still wondering when one of them is going to help me.
Then it hits me – hard.
They aren’t going to help me. These ponies are actually going to just sit there and watch me play.
The realization is shocking – almost to the point where I mess up a chord. How can they not be helping me? This is a kids show, for Christ’s sake! How can its characters condone slavery?!
A little voice in my mind also reminds me that no kids show would involve its characters beating a person senseless and then lighting their head on fire, and it’s all I can do not to let out a little moan of despair – not that I could. Trixie’s constant presence in my mind is stopping me from doing anything but play.
Finally, the song draws to a close, and I sit at the piano. I won’t give these ponies the satisfaction of acknowledging them, although my resolve is weakened slightly when my viewers start to stomp their hooves in applause - a few of them calling out praise.
“Such dexterity!”
“A marvel of nature!”
“The most amazing piece I've ever heard!”
My mouth twitches, wanting to morph into a scowl, but I refuse to give these ponies anything. My expression remains blank as I grudgingly look out over the audience – which I cannot actually see with the spotlight shining in my eyes.
My resolve not to grant the ponies in the audience any acknowledgement is strengthened as I mull over their words. These monsters are praising me for being a human. All of these compliments are for my hands, not for me.
I want to shout at them. I want to tell them all what horrible creatures they are, but Trixie’s magic keeps me rooted to the seat. I can do nothing but watch as these bastards shout their approval of the way humans evolved.
‘Trixie caused this. I’ll make sure she pays for it.’
I have to sit there for a further twenty seconds while the ponies’ applause dies down, before my head is wrenched back to look at the piano.
Trixie steps out onto the stage. “Thank you, mares and gentlecolts. Trixie is happy you enjoyed that piece. In fact, Trixie believes that another is in order.”
The crowd emits a generous amount of approving calls, and Trixie’s presence in my mind flares up again.
I tremble slightly under the mental pressure and let out a strained grunt as my hands are lifted to the piano again. I quickly select a piece, while also contemplating what I have been thinking for the last five minutes.
These ponies are monsters.
***
The curtain closes as the applause for my third piece dies down, and I hear Trixie’s voice again.
“Thank you, Mares and Gentlecolts. Please check back tomorrow for a performance schedule. Enjoy the rest of your evening!”
The friendliness in her voice makes me want to vomit. The idea that she could be anything apart from an abusive psychopath is laughable.
I hear the audience murmuring outside as Trixie come in behind the curtain.
The very first thing she does is strike me across the face with one hoof.
“That was not the piece I told you to play.” She spat, before her face morphed back into a mask of neutrality. “Nevertheless, I am pleased that you did.”
“So why’d you hit me?” I demanded, as Trixie forced me to stand up.
“Because you went against my wishes. Make no mistake, human. If you displease me, you will suffer. If you comply, I’m sure you will find this entire situation quite bearable.”
“I’m living in a cage. That will never be bearable.” I respond dejectedly, casting a quick glance at my crooked nose.
Trixie scoffed. “I’m sure that I could alter your living arrangements into something that would make a cage look like heaven. I owe you nothing.” Her horn flared, and I felt my legs start to move, carrying me back towards the door to the basement.
“And don’t you forget that.”
As Trixie opens the door ahead of me and ushers me down into the darkness, one thought crosses my mind.
At least she isn't acting nice anymore.