“Which is why they wipe everyone’s minds all the time,” Pinkie explained as she, Spike and Applejack walked down the relatively sparse sidewalk.
The sun was hanging directly overhead and there was a nice, comfortable breeze blowing past. It was still some time before the lunch rush, so most ponies with jobs were out of sight. That left the sidewalks free of prying ears, and loud ponies free to talk about whatever they wanted to.
Not that they were discussing anything particularly secret, the Ghost Society knew that Pinkie was immune. It was why they created the rumour mills: about her being insane, about her being evil, and about how her outcast nature would spread the more time you spent with her
“That’s what I was missing out on?” Applejack demanded, keeping her volume down in an attempt to quell her growing anger, “I was the sole source of local food for years! And you’re saying the elite erased memories so they could indulge themselves?!”
Pinkie chuckled, “Oh yeah. I don’t pay close attention, but they probably do something at least once a week. I don’t know how stressful being powerful and influential must be – probably not at all – but they pretty heavily cut loose.”
“All the more reason to snap that stupid bitch’s neck.”
“I’m not sure the Executioner specifically goes to those parties.” Pinkie explained, attempting to alleviate Applejack of the fumes billowing out of her ears. When the blonde mare seemed to quiet down, Pinkie sighed in relief. “But the Council, some of the things they do are worse than those college parties I’ve heard about.”
Spike silently chuckled, ‘From what I hear they summon creatures of destruction.’
“Yeah, they do, monsters of mayhem too,” Pinkie let herself smile in amusement, “I didn’t know Twilight let you read the Theorist’s Guide.”
‘She complained about it when we first came to Partyville.’
“I guess that sounds like her,” Spike could detect a hint of disappointment in her voice. Everyone knew that the two of them started off with wildly different ideas about each other. Twilight’s was mostly right: Pinkie was informative, friendly and spent most of her free time researching and studying to have an edge against the dead side.
Pinkie on the other hand was completely wrong about Twilight, “Most people are when they meet her.” Spike reflected. Pinkie assumed Twilight was direct and talkative, and that was partially right, but the Hunter was also rude, judgemental, distrustful of everything around her, and possibly the most tightly bound knot of self-hate Pinkie had ever met.
Twilight was off-putting, more than most ponies Pinkie had ever met, and she didn’t seem to have any redeeming qualities unless you knew her long enough. Pinkie was giving friendship and even a relationship a try, but it just… she really didn’t know. It almost felt like Twilight was just doing it because she wanted to be less lonely, and not because she actually liked Pinkie. It was a confusing situation to be in, but she and Spike had been getting along well enough.
Interestingly, even though Twilight was sort of their de facto leader… for whatever reason, Pinkie held them all together better.
“If you’re going to do that, can you at least tell me what you’re saying?”
Applejack’s sudden question knocked Pinkie out of her thought process, she shook her head and regained her focus. “Right, sorry. We’re talking about the book I left in Twilight’s warehouse last month.”
“Why?”
“Well in the book it talks about why the ghosts of St. Orangeburg even party at all, it’s to relax them. In the past they used to haunt living ponies, they can’t anymore which stresses them out. It’s why they erase memories too, so they can go all out and not have to face the consequences.”
Applejack narrowed her eyes, “WIsh I knew how to haunt people...” she mumbled.
‘Are the memory wipes why everyone is so mind-numbingly fucking stupid?’
Pinkie rolled her eyes, “Yes, the memory wipes are responsible for why the living ponies in Partyville are not all there.” She repeated most of what Spike asked for Applejack’s sake.
“That’s something I don’t get,” Applejack considered, “if the Council is erasing minds, making the living so stupid, why aren’t you affected?”
Pinkie looked down the several blocks of sidewalk still ahead of them, she sighed as she turned back to Applejack. “That’s my natural immunity to mind magic. The technical term for it is Nullism, but I just call it existential-crisis fodder.”
“No, no,” Applejack shook her head, “I know you’re immune, but there’s other ponies in Partyville that are still smart: Some of the shop owners, the one at the tourism kiosk, Rainbow Dash, the mayor, Twilight. Though maybe Twilight doesn’t count since she hasn’t been here long enough.”
“Oh,” Pinkie smiled, “Actually, I was talking with the Whisperer about that and I learned a lot. Apparently that’s because they’re important characters!” At the blank and quite frankly incredulous expressions meeting her, Pinkie continued, “It’s the same reason I’m immune and Twilight can read minds. We’re all part of this story being written, and the pony writing us likes giving everyone unique abilities. It’s why Spike is mute, why Sweetie Belle is a spectre and Pastel Garden is in a contr-“
Without warning, Spike moved faster than the two ponies could notice. In a single swift motion he pulled his switchblade out of his hoard and held the sharpened steel to Pinkie’s neck. His face read desperate anger, and he radiated an aura of pure death. Applejack took a step toward him, confused but sensing he’d become a threat, but he met her approach by pulling a second knife and pointing it at her.
“Wh-whoa!” Pinkie stammered, her brain catching up to her eyes, “W-w-what are you doing, Spike?!”
He stared into her soul, scrutinizing her. He hadn’t slit her throat yet, but he was from Panhandlershot, he could kill her in an instant, She hadn’t even known anything was wrong until she saw Applejack react. What was going on? Why was she suddenly in danger?
Spike stared into Pinkie’s eyes for... she didn’t know how long; she didn’t move for fear of her life, and Applejack held back as well. What did he want? Eventually he turned to look at Applejack, who stared angrily at him, but refrained from acting. Then, slowly, he lowered the knife from Pinkie’s neck, and walked backwards until he could see them both at once.
He had eyes of barely restrained fury. He focused his gaze on Applejack and started signing with his left hand. ‘Where the fuck is Pastel Garden?’
Pinkie was shaking, still very afraid; she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. She remained silent for long enough that Applejack turned her head but kept her eyes locked on the dragon. “What did ten skurwiel say?” She spat, her accent thick.
“H-he just wants to know wher-where Pas… w-where a pony is.” Pinkie gulped, forcing herself to relax at least a little bit. “Spike, she… I don’t know where she is RIGHTNOWBUTI’MNOTDONETALKING!” The outburst got an eyeflicker from Spike as he almost looked away from Applejack. “Sh-she-Past-she likes to spend Saturdays on the rooftops downtown!”
As she explained, Pinkie snapped her eyes shut, hoping to block out the situation. After all, you’re always more relaxed when you don’t see it coming. At the sound of footsteps running off she slowly opened her eyes to see him gone. She took a deep breath before she rubbed the sting from her eyes.
“He’s gone.” Applejack spoke in what sounded like an attempt at a comforting voice. But it covered disgust, so it come across awkwardly. “Do you want me to go after him?”
“N-no, let’s… let’s just avoid him for now.” Pinkie stammered, still shaking, But Spike had left, and she was safe for a little while. “We’ll probably deal with worse when we get to the Executioner... so this was good practice?”
“Right…”
Applejack narrowed her eyes in the direction Spike left, another asshole to deal with. She looked at Pinkie, and felt relieved that the baker wasn’t hurt. Applejack didn’t think much of her, but Pinkie was a good pony, or tried to be anyway, and that was worth keeping alive.
And if Pinkie died, there was really no telling when she’d be displaced to.
---
The sun shone down on the two Earth ponies as they passed in front of the laundromat. Applejack took a moment to look inside and saw several catfolk waiting around as dozens of machines were going. It made sense to her though after, the cats actually wore clothes, before she saw it in Pinkie’s video feed earlier she wondered why there was even a laundromat to begin with.
There was a unicorn in there, but she looked pretty… prissy, if Applejack had to think of a word for it. Like the mare stepped foot anywhere that wasn’t upper class or higher. Normally Applejack would have ignored it, but ponies didn’t wear clothes, it was unnatural, so the unicorn inside seemed out of place.
But Applejack quickly remembered why she was there and walked over to Pinkie, the pink baker stood in front of the structural pillar between the laundromat and the bar. Applejack noted that it was the same brick as the rest of the building, and that there was nothing special about it. Certainly no door that led to the whores domain or whatever it was that Pinkie called it earlier - A plane of some kind.
“Is it still there?” Applejack asked, unsure.
Pinkie nodded silently as she looked the brick pillar over, she raised her hoof and traced it along what Applejack assumed was the door frame. After a moment of this orange mare looked around, seeing the dozens of ghosts walking the sidewalk, they weren’t directly watching, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out they observing them.
After what felt like several minutes, Pinkie finally spoke, “Of all things, why hide the door?”
A sour look devoured Applejacks more neutral expression, “If I know anything about this bitch, it’s that she likes her secrets.”
Pinkie brought a hoof to her chin, “I mean sure, but something as powerful as the Executioner? I never thought she’d worry enough to hide herself.”
“I don’t know and I don’t care, it’s time we teach her a lesson.” Applejack tapped at the wall and noticed her hoof go through the brick, she then flashed Pinkie a devilish smirk, “Let’s go kill a manipulative piece of shit.”
Despite her earlier trauma, Pinkie rolled her eyes and smiled, “If it means one less thing to worry about, I’m right there with you.”
Applejack nodded and watched Pinkie enter the brick pillar, disappearing like she never existed in the first place. She was glad to cheer Pinkie up, they were good friends, and it was good to keep things that way. Applejack looked around, spotting more than a few of the high society ghosts staring in shock. She refrained from laughing before pushing into the unknown.
The ghost bumped her left leg on the doorframe before adjusting and looking around.
It… it was an empty white void.