//------------------------------// // Into This World We're Thrown // Story: Sonata Dusk Gifts A Burrito // by Soufriere //------------------------------// The midsummer rain came down in dribs and drabs, forming an unseasonal mist on an unusually cloudy and mild day in Canterville. While the sun had yet to set, hundreds or thousands of people scrambled to leave the downtown area on this final day of the work week, anxious to return to their homes in the trendier suburbs to the west and south, or the working-class bungalows of the near-east on the wrong side of the tracks, or even the rural villages and farmland north of the river, leaving the central city to its few eclectic inhabitants. One of those inhabitants, Sonata Dusk, was busy making the few-block walk from Big Beulah’s Burrito Barn, where she worked and, to the Ergot Municipal Credit Union. Accompanying her was her boss, Short Plate, who actually owned the restaurant managed by his wife but preferred to stay in the kitchen. The red DON’T WALK light shone at them like the most annoying beacon ever. Sonata began to fidget. “Oh, turn, darn you! I have to get to the bank before it closes!” she snapped at it. Short Plate put his hand on her shoulder. “Calm down,” he said. “It’ll change, and we’ll make it in time.” A few interminable seconds later, the light did in fact change, allowing them to cross to the nondescript brick building on First Street housing the EMCU. There was a friendly if artificial ’ding!’ sound as they opened the door with just fifteen minutes to spare. While Short Plate went to a higher-up to deposit the week’s earnings for the Barn, Sonata approached Farthing, an tall and affable teller whose easy smile gave away a man who genuinely enjoyed interacting with people whether he knew them or not. “Good afternoon, miss… uh…” he blushed as his mind drew a blank. “Dusk. Sonata Dusk,” she said. “I’m, uh, kinda new here. Well, not new new, but this is the first time in as long as I can remember that I’ve had a steady, honest job.” “Working at the Burrito Barn?” he asked. Sonata’s eyes went wide. “How did you know?” Farthing smiled. “Mister Beulah… sorry I can’t remember his name… is speaking with my shift supervisor. Also, you’re, uh, still wearing your apron” “Oh yeah,” Sonata replied with a blush, briefly scratching the back of her head. “Anyway, I want to deposit most of this check, but, I guess, like, keep some money out? I think I finally have enough to keep a favour I made what seems like five years ago.” “And what’s that?” “Well, when I was down on my luck and living on the streets, boy that was the worst of the worst, I stole Sunset Shimmer’s burrito because I was starving. I always wanted to make it up to her but just …never did. Couldn’t. Not until Mister Short Plate took me in and let me work in the Barn.” Sonata finally finished. Farthing raised his eyebrow. “You know Sunset Shimmer?” Sonata was perplexed by this. “Well, yeah, kinda. We have a past. You know her?” He chuckled. “Know her? She’s a highly valued customer here. Also she offered to tutor my daughter. Sweet girl, if a bit neurotic.” “That’s true,” Sonata agreed with a wide smile. “Even though we didn’t get off on the right foot, or even the left, I’ve always wanted to be friends with her.” “Well,” Farthing said, “She’s not difficult to get ahold of. Just stick a letter in her mailbox on the ground floor of the building she lives in. She’ll probably find it in anywhere from a day to two weeks. Drives our manager Mister Bean-Counter crazy that she’s so bad about checking her mail.” Sonata nodded. “She lives in the…?” “Old brick building on Fifth Street, yes,” Farthing finished. “For a girl who likes to keep a low profile, she’s easy to find. Her name and address are literally in the phone book. How many individuals have land-lines anymore? But, I don’t think she does. We’ve never been able to reach her by phone. So, does she even know she’s listed?” “She’s not the only one with an unusual living situation,” Sonata replied with a shrug. “I live in a freezer. It’s not really freezing anymore.” Farthing briefly raised an eyebrow at that but eventually continued. “Anyway, Miss Shimmer obviously told us her address so we could start doing business with her, storing her fortune. I guess it also says something about the politicians she says are after her that they haven’t succeeded. Yes, I know better than anyone that it’s against policy to just give out someone’s address to a third party. I could get fired or arrested. But that place… what’s it called, the Something Arms?… has close to a hundred apartments in it and I don’t remember which one it is. Plausible deniability. You’ll figure it out.” After the transaction was completed, with Sonata keeping about ten Bux of her paycheck and depositing the rest, she shook Farthing’s hand vigorously. “Thanks so much for all your help, Mister man!” Sonata chirped. “My name is—“ but Sonata had already bounded off before he could finish. On the way out the door he saw Sonata steal one of the random notepads and pens off a table. He shrugged, not caring since even credit unions get those things in bulk; they’re not the post office after all. The next morning, a muggy Saturday, Sunset Shimmer blearily made her way down the four flights of stairs from her apartment to the lobby, assuming incorrectly this time that the century-old elevator was still broken. Once on the ground floor, she noticed her mailbox was, as usual, overflowing. She sighed as she grabbed the clump of papers and plodded back up the stairs. Once inside her apartment, she spread all the mail on the stolen cable spool she called her coffee table. “Bill, bill, charity, junk, ‘you may have just won a million Bux’, ‘you may owe a million Bux’, ‘vote for Orangeglow’s ghost for Supreme Leader and get rid of the illegal’… Singular. Well, that’s oddly specific and a bit concerning. Huh? What’s this? A handwritten note?” Sunset’s boredom quickly turned to fascination. Dear Sunset, Please meet me at the Burrito Barn as soon as possible. I’d like to give you something. Doesn’t matter when since I work there every day. Thanks! —Sonata Dusk “Her handwriting is terrible, almost as bad as mine,” Sunset said to herself with a grin. “Always easy to tell the Equestrians. But,” she told the note, “I need to go to my bathroom and consult Albert before deciding to meet.” Inside the disused meat freezer deep inside the Burrito Barn, Sonata busied herself readying her cot for bed. She had already cleaned herself off with the nearby sprayer, so was completely naked, though she was unconcerned as the Barn had closed for the night and no one else ever entered this room, a relic from when the building had served as a butcher shop. As she sat down on the side of her cot, a sensation not unlike lightning shot through her brain. All of a sudden her visual cortex was overwhelmed with images. Mostly of Sunset Shimmer. However, Sonata was seeing events with Sunset she had never been party to, along with some that could have not possibly happened in the world she knew, like the one where the two of them had never met and Sunset had befriended a young red-haired girl, or the ones where Sunset was in a serious sexual relationship with her alabaster friend Rarity. Interspersed were images of Sonata’s sister Adagio speaking with a bespectacled purple girl who looked vaguely familiar, and this girl in turn or maybe before that Sonata could clearly see giving a file of documents and photographs to an evil-looking orange man Sonata knew to be dead yet seemed more alive to her than when he was actually alive. She had seen many of these images and scenes before, but never so vivid that she felt like she could touch anything within them. Sonata grabbed her temples in a futile attempt to deal the pain of the unwanted info-dump. She whimpered as more and more images inserted themselves into her brain. Eventually she realized that just about every event had one thing in common: The Burrito Barn. Once the onslaught stopped and Sonata came to her senses, she realized she was doubled over but had never moved. Her mouth was wide open as she breathed heavily, a trail of drool spilling out onto her bare legs, her blue hair tangled slightly from her involuntary thrashing. “Wha… What was that?” Sonata asked no one. The aged utility pipes within the Burrito Barn rattled, typical for such a setup, as Sonata allowed her mind to wander. Is this meeting with Sunset really a good idea? No. I know it is. It has to be. For so many months, so many that it feels like five years, I promised myself that I would pay her back for her dinner I stole. It’s why I got this job to begin with, although being off the streets certainly didn’t hurt either. I’ve been doing my best these past few months to be on the straight and narrow, the path of goodness. Buying Sunset a burrito… good thing Mister Short Plate and Mister Dashiki know what she likes since there’s not too many vegetarians in this city …would go a ways toward fixing that wrong. But what about everything else me and my sisters did? Can anyone really forgive me? Should they? I wonder if Sunset wonders the same thing, with her own checkered past. If the devil came down to Canterville looking for a soul to steal, he’d be in a real bind with either one of us. But maybe we could bond over that, kind of like how the ingredients of a burrito bond once they’re together. It’s like a taco: If you can taste each bit of filling separately, it doesn’t work. Only when the flavours can commingle do you truly understand the experience. While softer and larger, a burrito is basically the same concept. Even the salad bowls we make for the carb-conscious. I miss Equestria so much; I miss my sisters. It’s lonely in this space. When they were down I tried to be their clown, though they didn’t appreciate it, especially Aria. They’ll never know the tears of a clown when there’s no one around. But I can’t say I’m alone anymore. I have a job that I enjoy, even if I’m not the best at it. Ms Beulah doesn’t like me, but <> tells me she doesn’t like anyone except Dashiki, and he doesn’t like her. I guess that’s part of working in a small business like this. We’re a family of sorts, and family doesn’t always get along. The golden girl and the disappointment. But, we don’t have to be unkind; we just grow. At least I’d hope so. What is this place? What is Sunset Shimmer? Why am I forced to keep chasing these visions? Most of them don’t seem all that pleasant for her. Does she know? Why do I have to think about all this? I wish I could go back to only caring about singing and tacos. Life isn’t really kind like that. Would Sunset rather rip my heart out of my ribcage and then throw it on the floor and stomp on it ’til I die than spend a minute with me? Only one way to find out, I guess. Sunset, I hope to see you tomorrow and finally make amends. And now I need to sleep Within two minutes, Sonata had passed out buck naked on her cot, although she had at least managed to cover most of herself with her cover. Sunday was unbearably muggy, somehow worse than Saturday. With the spike in summer temperatures, being outside felt like walking through soup. It was the very beginning of cicada season, the massive bugs making their “year-dee” chirps from trees or fences or any surface they could find. Sunset Shimmer wore a tank top and shorts with her long two-tone hair pulled into a ponytail. She could have sworn she saw the scene ahead of her start to wobble from the heat. Of course she knew better than anyone that was an optical illusion, but it was still discomforting to see it directly. She disliked the stares she got from local passersby of both sexes, men with lust and women with disgust, for her admittedly skimpy outfit that showed off her ample bosom and legs toned from years of walking nearly everywhere, but she didn’t feel like challenging society this day. She felt naked enough already without her jacket. As she jaywalked another cross-street north, she pulled out the note and reread it for the umpteenth time. Between that and the stifling heat, her mind wandered… What does Sonata want with me? Even though we were enemies in the past, this doesn’t feel like a challenge letter. In fact it feels like the opposite. Maybe she isn’t so bad. She did kind of give me unusual looks at school, and not like the other two. Maybe her door swings the opposite direction? She kissed a girl and she liked it? But I don’t swing …any way. It’s just never been forefront in my mind. Rarity would know more about that stuff, but she hasn’t wanted to talk to me since our little sojourn out to buy me a new laptop. Maybe she was expecting something I simply can’t give. If so, then I’m a terrible friend. Sometimes even your best isn’t good enough. And your worst isn’t bad enough. After all, She forgave me. Knowing that, I want to go back and see Her. But would I stay after spending over a decade making a life for myself here? I think going back home again might feel like a step backwards. Just because I was born in a small town doesn’t mean I idolize it. Well, Stalliongrad isn’t that small, and I have few if any good memories from it. I never really showed Her or told Her how grateful I was that she got me out of that hellhole. Ever self-focused, ever self-loathing. But I know my past is not today; I just have to remind myself. Keep my eyes on the road that’s ahead of me. That’s all I can do. Just… that pang of the unknown. What should I expect when I meet Sonata? War? But what is that good for? I don’t want to fight. Friendship is probably asking a lot from both of us. I guess the strangest thing that could possibly happen would be a civil conversation between two reasonably mature young women, although I’m not exactly sure how old she is. Maybe if we break the ice she could answer that. I mean, really, no one ever explained to me how those three got here, much less how long they’ve been here. Even though I’ve lived in this world for over a decade now, there’s still so much I have yet to learn. What’s beyond the impassible mountains to the north, east, and south? What’s beyond the ocean? IS there anything? These aren’t questions she would know the answers to. Wait. How did she find out where I live? Okay, yeah, my address is in the city directory despite not having a traditional telephone anymore. That’s the practice in a world with a low crime rate. Not as low as most of Equestria, but a lot safer than Stalliongrad. Or Canterlot if you care about your money. The wealthy are the wealthy no matter what universe you’re in, the bigger piggies in their pressed white shirts to hide the bacon. Rarity thinks I’m loaded. I’m really not. What’s the point of assets if they’re a pain in the ass to access? Okay, once more unto the Burrito brink. Not too crowded. There’s that guy in the dashiki who’s worked here forever. He may already know what I want since I always order the same— why is he waving me over to the tables? “Just take a seat. We’ll have your order out to you in a minute.”? Strange, but okay. Sunset glanced to her left to make sure her usual table, the one near the back corner with only one chair, was open. Seeing it was, she beelined for it and sat down, pondering everything and nothing at the same time, as well as the concept of nothing. As she furrowed her eyebrows in concern that she had already analyzed nothing until nothing remained, Sonata Dusk appeared dragging a chair with her left hand while holding a basket of burrito with her right. She set the burrito in front of Sunset and proceeded to sit across from her. “Um, hi Sunset,” said Sonata much more meekly than she expected. “Sonata,” Sunset replied, mildly confused, with a nod. “So, uh, this…” she poked the foil wrapping. “Vegetarian burrito,” Sonata confirmed before Sunset could complete the thought. “Mister Dashiki knows your order by heart. You don’t really like trying new things.” Sunset shrugged. “Well, you live in a sort of holding pattern for ten years, a rut is inevitable, isn’t it? Speaking of, looks like you got out of yours. You work here now.” “I do!” replied Sonata with cheerfulness that was only halfway forced. “The people here have been very good to me,” she continued as her demeanour dropped a bit. Sunset placed her chin on her fist in the classic thinking pose. “So this burrito here…” “…is my way of, I guess, trying to make up for everything, including the stealing,” Sonata completed the thought. “I see. Well, I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. They usually bite if you try, which I learned the hard way. Thank you.” As Sunset cautiously began to eat her burrito, a smile involuntarily spreading across her face from the perfect panoply of flavours, Sonata opened and closed her mouth multiple times as if to say something but failing miserably. Eventually she did speak. “I’m sorry, Sunset, here and everywhere. I hope we can become friends in all the timelines coming through this shop and into my head.” Sunset stared at Sonata in mild shock, a sliver of spinach tortilla hanging out of her mouth. “What?” Sonata cocked her head, knowing that she made perfect sense even if only one person in the multiverse, who probably was not her, understood. “What?”