“I don’t know where to begin. There’s this mare. Her name is Octavia, but I call her Tavi because it’s a cute nickname I gave her out of the blue one day when we were at school togeth — you don’t need that. Sorry. I’m not good at this whole talking thing. I think it’s easier to get to the point in as few words as possible. Anyways, there’s this mare, Octavia, like I was saying — y’know, Tavi — and well, she’s cute… I’m feeling a little hot right now. Do you have ice? No? Okay, I'll continue.
“So, I walk in the house one day and her things are packed up. I ask what’s going on, and she says she’s moving out; that she’s going to Canterlot, and well, one thing leads to another, and I’m sleeping in the tub and drowning and not in water, if you get what I mean. Depression. I’m talking about depression — okay, I see you get what I mean. You can stop nodding. Please stop nodding. Thank you.
“So I think that’s why I’m here. Your flier said you had a ‘Cure for loneliness,’ whatever that meant. That's why I want to help you with Project Rita.”
Done with my little tangent, I pick my tea up from it's saucer and take a long sip, tempted to turn up my headset to drown out the awful ambiance that had ensued only seconds ago. It was something Doctor Gonzo had said — I read it on his lips. He noticed that I hadn’t touched my tea for a while and pointed out that it was getting cold. The moment I took the cup and poured the lukewarm amber liquid down my throat was when I decided it was the perfect opportunity to think and to recover from the amount of guts that just spilled out of my stomach.
I told him about Tavi. I told him about how I felt about her. I told him about the day I saw all her things packed up and sitting on her bed while she waited for the movers to come pick them up. This next part I didn’t tell him, but I think he put it together on his own: I recollected about how I felt that day. Not exactly afterward — although there were those brief glimpses of memory where I was cuddled up on her ex-bed — but not before either. It was that perfect middle where it felt like the world was ending but we all still had time to reminisce.
I recalled how it took most of the day; from exactly 1:23 PM to 6:03 PM. There were several times when I choked on my own voice, ready to say something, but only squeaking. Tavi looked at me funny, but deep down I knew what she was thinking. Not that she knew how I felt, but she was probably thinking, “My... my best friend is really going to miss me.”
She said it, too.
I had hoped that when the movers arrived, she would have turned around and ran straight toward me at a breakneck speed, saying something corny like, “No, I don’t want to go. I’ll never leave you!” Instead, she complained to the movers for being three minutes behind schedule.
She said goodbye to me, and after that last chirp of her voice, the rest of the day was quiet. I remember staying on her old side of the room for some time. A few times I circled around it because my mind lost its train of thought, and I was stumbling around the house, my mind a blank slate.
Jumping back into the now, I had finished my tea and placed the cup back on its saucer. Doctor Gonzo, as I had come to know him before I signed the contract that would weave the next few hours of my life together, gave me a blank look from across the cocktail table. I didn’t get the guy. Well, I could put all the small stuff together and get an idea of him.
The griffon wasn’t too old. Maybe right around fifty. He had a caretaker let me in — or at least I assumed she was one. She was a young griffon almost my age. At first I had mistaken her for an assistant, but I figured an assistant would be helping the old canary with whatever experiments he was conjuring up.
There were also the photos of a female griffon — much older than the one that let me in — hanging on the wall. Yes, Doctor Gonzo was also a griffon and not a bad looking one based on how far my knowledge of the feather-based plebeians go. When I came into the house, several of the pictures adorning the walls of the hallway featured the two in various activities. A particular picture that stood out was a framed newspaper clipping of the two, feathers tousled and eyes tired, standing in front of a dentist chair with what looked like a hair dryer attached to the top of it.
That same thingy-automated-do-hicky-mcbobber chair was behind me on the other side of the room, parallel from the chestnut leather sofa that I was sitting in. I caught a glimpse of it when I came in. Since I decided to keep my sunglasses on inside, I had managed to add another second to the snapshot. I didn’t want to stare too long, though, because I thought it’d be rude to look around the room despite every little thing drawing attention to itself.
Doctor Gonzo was explaining something to me. Most of it was, “This is what’s about to happen,” and the typical, “It’s only a prototype.”
“The herbs in the tea you drank should relax your nerves,” he said. “Within the next five minutes, you will feel a sleep haze wash over you, so don’t freak out. Any excited feelings before entering the Foresight Zone could mess with the machine. You’ll need to stay as calm as possible.”
I nodded, letting him know that I was listening.
“Right. Great. Fantastic.” He took the rolled up contract stamped with a wax seal, got up from the loveseat, and brought it over to his desk. “And you are well aware of the risk?”
I nod my head again.
“Fantastic." he said as he slid the drawer with the contract shut. "Well, not so fantastic considering the various death possibilities. And you’re fine with it?”
I don’t have much to live for anyway, so why not? I nod my head again.
“Wonderful, I suppose. I guess time will tell where it brings you. Well, I suppose we should get started. Please have a seat in the chair behind you.”
I didn’t have much of an option upon agreement to the waiver. The moment I signed, it was either I sit in the chair, or accept the lawsuit. I chose the former, of course.
Rita, the chair was called. He didn’t give me that much information about it, only that it was a project he has been working on for most of his life. Seeing it up close scared me only a little. Okay, a lot.
It had black leather cushions with four thick brown straps perfect for restraining a pony. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I laid against it and an even bigger shiver as he strapped me in. After I was secured, he left the room.
He came back in a minute later, wheeling in a table with various items assorted on a metal tray. The most noticeable was a large syringe.
“The tea is for the nerves. This is for precaution,” he said, picking it up. “It is possible that you will wake up with only memories of your alternate self intact. If that happens and you suddenly wake up in a reality you do not think is your own, this will ensure that you don’t have the energy to cause any damage. To Rita or yourself.”
I felt very reassured.
He injected it into my left arm, missing the mark by a little because he was an old bird with thick glasses. I didn’t say anything though, not even when a thin trail of blood leaked down my bicep from the microscopic hole he had punctured.
Five minutes later I was numb. Numbed and relaxed. Comfortably numb. Would I be lying if this was the best feeling I had in the past three months? No, I wouldn’t. Numbed and relaxed: the best alternative to laying on the floor and sulking.
At that moment, I realized I would have to remove my headphones and sunglasses. I felt naked without them, but I had to if that thiny-mahgizmo was going on my head.
I wrapped them up in my magic and slid them off, my ears feeling the bite of cold air. I handed them to Doctor Gonzo, and he placed them on a decorative table standing against the wall.
Adjacent to the chair I sat in was a closet. Opening it, the griffon rolled out a thick box with a screen and rabbit ears protruding out from the top. He turned it to face me, and I could see that it had little knobs lining the side of its screen. He turned one, and the black slate that showed my reflection turned to snow.
“This hasn’t been completely tested yet.” Doctor Gonzo said. “It’s supposed to project everything you see onto the screen and record it onto an orb that lets you view your alternative reality again whenever you want.”
Huh, I figured this Doctor Gonzo was inventive, but I didn’t think creative! I wanted to ask him several questions, but I also wanted to hurry up and see what my future with Tavi would have been, so I did what I do best and kept my mouth shut.
I think he took that as a sign that I was ready, because he lowered the device over my head. My vision became submerged in darkness as a pair of goggles covered my eyes. There was cushioning, so nothing hurt. However, the pressure of it pressing against my face was quicking becoming uncomfortable.
For seconds that felt like minutes, I sat there in darkness. My nerves were soothed and my body was numb. It’s much like I’m aware of being dead, because I could still think.
“Okay,” I heard Doctor Gonzo say. “The moment I flick this switch, a powerful voltage is going to course through you, and you will be submerged into the Foresight Zone. Are you ready?”
I bit my lip. If my brain ended up frying, what would be the difference? I would be either dead or unconscious. Flick the freaking switch!
He took my silence as a proper response, and a second later, I heard an audible click come from the gizmo on my head.
I opened my eyes.
I was expecting a thousand volts to course through my body, but instead I felt the smooth wind from outside. I was wearing my sunglasses and headphones again, which I took as some form of relief. And, I guess, some more relief that Rita worked.
I was bobbing my head up and down, my hooves prancing along the two turntables in front of me. I remember this night very well. My mom and I had gone shopping for dresses the day before, and I found a perfect sequin cut-off that showed off my rear legs.
I thought it was sexy and would attract a lot of attention, but my mom thought it was as flashy as it was expensive. She was right about its flashiness, because with the two spotlights adjacent from each other shining down on me, I looked like the perfect sapphire in the dampest cavern. At least, I thought so.
Music blasted from every corner of Canterlot Plaza. There I was, the center of all it: in my prime and standing on my own little throne of wub cannons. For the first time in forever, I felt excited. I knew it was based on the feeling I had at that time, but it felt great.
I remembered the months leading up to prom; the student council was desperately searching for ponies to fill the venue. They held auditions in the auditorium after classes, and, well, all I know is that there was some debate whether they should have picked me. Originally, I wasn’t supposed to go on, but the venue was one short. I got to fulfill a high school dream by sheer chance.
So there I was, performing. I came on right after the Bass Brothers and would be followed-up by Miss Wrap-My-Heart-in-Bowstrings herself. I couldn’t wait to see her again, even though I knew what was about to happen.
I finished playing my jam to uproarious applause. My forehooves shot up into the air as I welcom their cheers. I felt satisfied, like in that moment, I was following through with my dreams. Jumping back to the present, this dream hasn’t happened yet, but the euphoria I felt in this moment made me want to jump for the clouds.
I only left the stage when one of the student council members tugged at my tail, reminding me that others had to perform. I didn’t want to leave my little gazebo of sound systems, but I also didn’t want to be selfish.
I had just gotten backstage when I heard her voice. “How do you expect me to keep up with that!” Tavi yelled at the mare that had tugged my tail. “The ponies are wanting a show. A show. I was not prepared for this! I was expecting to get on stage and play A Symphony for the Moon, but no, I have to follow up on dubstep music and rock n’ roll! Are ponies really going to enjoy that?”
This isn’t at all how I remember the events playing out. When I got off the stage, Tavi wasn’t yelling at anyone. She wasn’t even trying to communicate with anyone. In fact, she was plucking the strings on her cello and making sure they were all in-tuned. Not only that, but I figured Tavi as somepony confident in their work.
Originally, she had gone onstage after my equipment was wheeled off and performed. It was slower compared to the other more upbeat stuff, but by then everyone was looking to just cuddle with their dates to some smooth rhythms. I could tell her this, but I couldn’t control my own body for some reason.
Then she looked at me. She shot me with that glare she always gave when she was determined about something. It held the perfect mixture of anger and dream-filled diplomacy to carry through whatever problem was in her way.
“You there — DJ Pon3 was it?” I nod my head. “Let us perform a duet.”
A duet? This isn’t at all how it happened. Initially, she had looked at me with a shoo-go-away look and said, “Congratulations” to me in passing. Why on Earth did she want to perform a duet of all things?
“I know what you’re thinking: I, the great Octavia. Why would I want to perform a duet with you of all ponies? You seem musically adept — almost as much as I. It would mean the world if I could share the stage with you. Especially now with the crowd still riled up.”
I said nothing. I’m pretty sure from her perspective I looked like a statue.
She leaned in closer, nervously biting her bottom lip. “Please, do this for me.”
So we performed together. Rather than move the sound system off the stage, they pushed it aside, making enough room for Tavi and her cello. Our sounds mixed together beautifully, opera and techno colliding brilliantly to form an explosion of rhythmic noise.
We finished to an ovation. The crowd was even more excited than before, just as I was. I came out of my little gazebo to congratulate Tavi, who was bowing to the crowd.
I walked up beside her and she turned to me. “If you kissed me now, I wouldn’t be mad.”
So I did.
Next Session »»»