//------------------------------// // Distraction // Story: Independence Eternal // by Leafdoggy //------------------------------// Day Three Fluttershy doesn’t dally long in Twilight’s room on her second morning there. She brushes her mane, but pays no heed to the disheveled bed, and has no interest in taking down her curtains again. She’s downstairs eating breakfast mere minutes after waking up. Out the windows is another beautiful day. Just the right temperature, with a perfect breeze. Yet it brings no smile to Fluttershy’s face. It does nothing to brighten her dull eyes, or to raise her sagging shoulders. The emptiness of the world outside turns what would otherwise be beauty into crushing despair. She stares at the note as she eats. That one, single word. Gotcha. It sears itself into her mind. It means so many things, and yet at the same time it means nothing at all. There’s another pony, that’s undeniable now, but who is it, and what do they want? All she has to go on are those six letters. Gotcha. A sudden thought hits her. Could they have done this? Sent everypony away, or brought me here, or whatever happened? She taps her hoof on the table, deep in thought. Why, though? Why do all this just to torment me? It doesn’t make any sense... Fluttershy shoves the note away. It slides off the table and floats gently down onto the floor. Think about something else, she tells herself. I don’t even know where they are, and it’s not like I can search every home in Ponyville. I won’t get answers unless they come to me. She goes and grabs the book from yesterday, staring at the cover as she sits back down. Fluttershy. Such a simple title, but it means so much. She strokes the cover idly as she thinks about what’s in the book. Her whole life, all her memories, all her friends. All the experiences that have made her who she is, all the connections that have made her love life. All the things she's lost. She feels her emotions welling back up and pushes the book away, shoving her despair back down. I don’t have time for this, she decides. I have to keep moving. The library didn’t work, but that doesn’t mean nothing will. She gets up and walks towards the heavy basement door. It towers before her, the thick, dark wood contrasting starkly with the colorful world around it. Her fur stands on end as she approaches it. You can do this, she tells herself. You have to do this. Find a way to get home. You can do it. She continues her mantra as she pushes open the foreboding door and looks down the stairs, threatening wooden steps that descend into an unyielding void. Turning the lights on does very little. They banish the darkness, sure, but no light can disperse the dread. The room is huge, cluttered with machines and lab equipment, imposing monuments to the mysteries of the world. An off-putting smell lingers, a mix of stale air and strange chemical odors. Empty cobwebs fill the ceiling, and faded scrawlings adorn chalkboards all across the walls. The faint light showering the room paints it with a disorienting cavalcade of shadows, making everything just that much more alien. You can do it. A hard swallow, a hesitant step, and then she’s there. The machines surround her on every side, connected by a web of cables. There’s no carnage, no obvious signs of an experiment gone wrong. Just row after row of machines that Fluttershy knows nothing about. Learning how to use them all could take weeks, or even months.  Well, Fluttershy thinks, it isn’t like I have other plans. So, she switches a machine on at random. The screen churns and struggles, and takes a minute to turn on. It’s clear that it’s trying, buzzing with effort, but unknown ages of sitting untouched have taken their toll. A toll she hopes the other machines haven’t paid as well.  When the screen finally does light up, it does so with blemishes, dead areas and warping. A scarring crack runs down one side, rendering half of it completely useless. The rest of the screen is just barely intact enough to make out the words it spits out. Long lists of novels and biographies, ordered and annotated meticulously, followed by a prompt for Fluttershy to give new entries or adjust sorting algorithms. A request which she ignores. Twilight’s favorite books, maybe? Makes sense, Fluttershy thinks. It doesn’t help me, though. She shuts off the struggling codex and moves on. The next machine isn’t faring much better than the first. She wipes a thick layer of dust off the screen, even having to push away the web of some spider which is nowhere to be seen. When it flickers to life, Fluttershy is presented with a map of Ponyville. Curved lines shift over the town, presumably weather patterns of some sort. Certainly nothing that could fix things. Hopefully I won’t be here long enough to have a reason to use this, she thinks.  The work isn’t quick, but it isn’t hard either. Fluttershy doesn’t need to dedicate much thought to testing the machines, just reading outputs and pressing buttons, so before long her mind starts to wander. Her thoughts sift through the past few days, reexamining all the things that have happened in this bizarre and familiar place, and she starts to find her head full of questions she can’t ignore. I just don’t get it, she thinks as she waits for a machine to boot up. What did they stand to gain by trapping me in the library? The whole world is empty, if you want me gone I can just leave. She turns some dials and watches as the screen fluctuates in unhelpful ways. Unless they want me gone for good, but I’ve slept here for two nights now. She turns off the machine. The next screen quietly pops into being. Nothing on it catches her eye. Then they taunted me about it! All that effort into making me feel alone, and then they just go and tell me they’re there? That’s so… So… Arrogant! She flicks off the screen and walks to the end of the row. Was it just to torment me? Being alone wasn’t enough, so I had to be scared too? You couldn’t even see me in there! For all you know, I could have been just fine in there. So what was the point? I mean, what if I hadn’t come out, would you have come in after me? I wouldn’t be a very good plaything if I’m— Fluttershy catches her own gaze in the black screen before her and loses her train of thought. It dawns on her how lost in thought she was, how she had been standing there staring at an empty screen. She locks eyes with herself and, for a brief moment, her expression is tense and focused, but then she blinks and it’s gone. She sighs, pushing her wild thoughts back into the recesses of her mind, and turns her attention back to the task at hand. The final machine in the row, just a tiny screen and keyboard embedded into a wall, blinks to life. Rather quickly, in fact, just a brief buzz before a soft blue glow. No scratches or warping, hardly even dust.  What greets Fluttershy on the screen is a long series of messages between two ponies, seemingly going back years. A conversation between friends. Normally, she wouldn’t pry, but that hangup barely surfaces now. Desperate for any faint hope, she starts to read. I still don’t see why I can’t just use our normal means of communication. Twilight, not everything needs to be so formal. Even I would like to be more casual from time to time. I know Princess, but I—  Fluttershy gasps. This is Princess Celestia! I can talk to her, she can help me! Frantically, desperately, she types out a cry for help. Dear Princess Celestia, this is Fluttershy. I’m terribly, terribly sorry for reading your private messages and contacting you this way, but I really need your help. Everypony in Ponyville has vanished, and I’m completely alone. Please, respond to this if you’re able and let me know if you’re out there. I need to know I’m not alone. Please. She practically slams her hoof down on the send button, no hesitation. Then, unable to hold back her curiosity, she scrolls up to read the final messages on the machine. I have to go, I don’t want to be late. Of course, Twilight. Tell Pinkie Pie I said Happy Birthday. There’s a gap in the messages, several weeks without anything. Twilight, I need you to come to Canterlot, there’s something serious I want to discuss. Another gap. Twilight, this is Princess Luna. I apologize for contacting you this way, but we need to speak. I will arrive in Ponyville soon. Again, several weeks pass with nothing. Princess Luna, I’m beginning to worry. I know you said it was fine, but ponies are starting to panic. Don’t you think we should do something? Twilight, what would it serve to stop things now? It is too late to undo what has been done. You must try to trust in her, and help others to do the same. Then, one final jump forward. Only a few hours this time. I’ll see you soon, Princess. Fluttershy sits on the ground, staring at the screen, trying to decipher what she just read. She reads it over and over again, searching for any scraps of information she may have missed. She finds one, too, though not where she expected. As she rereads the dates of all the messages, she notices a stark difference in the one she sent today. It’s been fifteen years. Fluttershy is shell-shocked. Fifteen years, she thinks to herself. I don’t… what… how? She leans against the hard steel of the machine beside her. It does nothing to embrace her, or to hold her steady against the waves of realization crashing into her. I’ve only been here three days.  How could it... Why… She lies down and buries her face in her hooves, her eyes clenched tight as she tries to work through her thoughts. Why am I here?