//------------------------------// // Music and the Moon // Story: Manehattan's Lone Guardian // by Curtis Wildcat //------------------------------// "Fell in love again, what am I gonna tell my friends?..." After returning to her apartment and stashing the leftover food in the family icebox---no matter how much her parents liked to call it a refrigerator---Ebony had been indecisive about what to do while she waited for her mother to come home. Many of her usual activities were curtailed in light of two factors: the storm outside, and the fact that she was temporarily grounded from leaving the building without her mother's say-so while the rest of the family was out of town visiting Aunt Harshwhinny. Not for the first time, she regretted embarrassing her best friend at her graduation party by taste-testing the cake before it was meant to be cut. Good friends were becoming increasingly difficult to find, especially in Manehattan, so she resolved to visit her at the earliest opportunity and apologize in person. After a few minutes of watching the rain out the window, Ebony had finally just shrugged, grabbed a few decks of cards and set about playing a solitaire variation that one of her siblings had showed her how to play once. After the first game, she'd decided some background music was in order and placed Sapphire Shores' most recent album on the family's record player. Catchy as the songs were, it didn't take long for her to start humming along, and she scarcely even noticed the rain letting up. "...it just happened... you walked in my door, now I don't want to be alone no more---" A loud 'thud' made Ebony jump and startled her into dropping her cards. She turned towards the source of the noise, snorting a little in irritation when she realized it was exactly who she thought it was. "For crying out loud, Mom!" she shouted at the closed window and the slightly dazed pegasus past it, even as she used her magic to unlock it and let her in. "The front door exists for a reason!" "---I've done it, told you how I feel, I just hope this time that our love is real---" ... ... "...So, yes. In summary," Gray finished explaining as she held a cold washcloth to her forehead, "apparently what we both thought was a mannequin or doll turned out to be an alien robot from another world with thoughts and feelings like ours. Oh, and Heartbreakers candy acts as her source of nourishment. Because reasons." Ebony tilted her head slightly, worried. "Shouldn't you go see the doctor?" "I didn't hit my head that hard, Ebony," Gray told her, cross. "I'm not concussed." Ebony cringed at the tone. "Sorry, sorry. Just... it's difficult to believe, you know?" Her mother sighed, chiding herself for taking that tone. "Don't worry about it, dear. Anyway, I paid a quick visit to Mortar & Son after I left the store to let them know what the deal was. They had just as hard a time believing it as you did, but I don't think they're going to stir up a fuss over it." She looked out the window in the general direction of the theater. "I can't say the same for anypony who were eyewitnesses to the chase. I'm guessing there's going to be a journalist or five from the Manehattan Minutes showing up at Sally's door in the next few days... or a Royal Police officer. Either or." Ebony shivered, the newfound knowledge that there was a genuine alien in their midst--and a robot on top of that--doing nothing to slake her fear. "Still hoping I never see it again, Mom." Gray reached over and gently patted her daughter's foreleg with her free hoof. "Understandable, dear. Though may I offer a suggestion on the off-chance that you do see her again?" At Ebony's nod, she continued. "Close your eyes and pretend you're talking to another pony. Justified your fear may be, lumping her in with the residents of boutiques city-wide is doing her a serious disservice. I know if somepony treated me as an actual ghost and not as a mare named for one, my own feelings would be hurt. She took it in good stride the first time, but who knows what really goes on in her mind?" A blink as Ebony finally caught on to the pronoun usage. "Wait, 'she'?" "Fairy's genderless, technically." Gray turned aside for a few seconds to run some more cold water through her washcloth, re-applying it to her forehead afterwards. "Hard to think of a machine that isn't, and the topic never came up. Buuut, she had the voice of a mare, so as far as I'm concerned she's a mare." "Kyahahahaha!" "Could you hold still, please? You almost kicked me!" "Ee-hee... sorry, Drama, I c-can't help it! I just got a mental image of one of my fellow Guardians, and... and... 'pretty boy', kyahahahahaha!" "Do you want to clean this outside-world filth off the floor? I said hold still!" "...I see," Ebony reluctantly said. "I'll try not to flip out, it's just..." The floor became somewhat more interesting. "I don't have to tell you to be patient with me, right? This isn't the sort of adjustment I can make right off the bat." Gray gave her a quick reassuring nuzzle. "You say that as if I ever needed reminded of it. I'm behind you every step of the way, Ebony." It was a common thing for any of Gray Ghost's foals to hear from their mother, and the truthfulness of it never changed. She had promised them when they were younger that she would be there for them as long as they still needed her, and as far as everypony was concerned, her words were a guarantee. Ebony smiled at her mother, happy to have that vow reaffirmed; she had a hunch that she would be seeing Leviathan again regardless of her wishes, and she felt that she would need all the help she could get. As if to lend its own support, a black shadow rubbed up against them both: Echo, the family's Mane Coon and perpetual attention seeker, who had been elsewhere in the apartment minding its own business while the day's events were taking place. Ebony giggled as the cat's tail tickled her chin. "I know, I know, you like us too, now stop doing that!" she protested, reaching over to pet it with one hoof as she hugged her mother with the other. "Four foals to be proud of, a wonderful husband, and a beautiful cat." Gray returned the embrace with her wing the best that she could. "For all of everypony's quirks, I wouldn't trade my life for anythi---" She blushed as her stomach rumbled in mid-sentence. "...Crudbunnies. With all this going on, I'd forgotten I hadn't finished dinner." The unexpected bathos provoked laughter from Ebony. Gray rolled her eyes at her reaction, but let it go with a smile as she made tracks for the refrigerator. Auto-repair System: 100%. Motor Control: 92%. Well, now. That was a chore and a half, but I'd say it ended well. Removing everything that didn't belong inside my frame was a task that went well into the evening. Some of the grime had been packed pretty well in there, requiring Drama Heart to utilize her magic to pull it out before cleansing those areas with soap and water. More of it was caked onto my wiring, endoskeleton and my coolant circulation system, requiring finesse and delicacy. Happily, none of the worse debris had reached any high-priority areas, such as my power generators or the shell housing my CPU. I imagine if anything did, there'd be warnings in my HUD left, right, and center. I was concerned at first that Drama would slip up somehow and accidentally cut off my connections to my limbs, or something worse, and because of that concern I couldn't hold back any visible nervousness. Thankfully, aside from one incident where I nearly kicked her in the face--and I'm fully willing to admit that it was partially my fault--her first attempt at performing what amounted to Reploid surgery under my guidance went excellently. She was incredibly thorough: not a trace of dust, grit, or worse remained by the time my frame was sealed shut for good. It's mind-boggling that she accomplished all of this while singing and dancing around the room, pausing only every other minute to get a good look at what it was she was dealing with before resuming her performance. With her unicorn magic, she has a level of dexterity and control that matches--and at times surpasses--any technician I've ever met. As an example, she'd been wiping off the inside of my left hand when the 'record' she'd been playing came to an end. She selected more music to play and, while keeping her back turned towards me, flawlessly scrubbed the interior to a shine. I almost passed out again just from that. Had this been Neo Arcadia, and had Dr. Weil and Omega never existed, I would've gotten someone to teach her proper machine maintenance with the intent of hiring her for the Deep Sea Squadron's support staff. This... I'm sorry if I'm repeating myself, but she did fantastic work. When I asked her how she'd obtained her level of skill, she told me that she makes and maintains much of her inventory herself, be they backgrounds, puppets, or props: of course she would have had plenty of practice across her years in the business dealing with tricky details. I don't know anything about the performing arts, but it still makes some sense. I'm alone in the room right now, and I can hear Drama Heart muttering to herself in the kitchen. After my frame was closed up, she took a look at what I can only presume was a clock and squeaked in surprise. She immediately stopped her music and put the record away, then scooped up her cleaning supplies--including a bucket containing everything that was cleared out--and galloped out of the apartment like someone was chasing her. She returned a few minutes later with said bucket emptied, put her supplies away, and scrambled to make herself a meal while completely ignoring me. She could've at least let me say 'thank you', but it looks like I'll have to wait. In the meantime as I finish re-equipping my armor, I do another quick diagnostic check. My auto-repair system is back at full power, which is nice, but what I really wanted to find out was the state of my motor control. I'd quietly expected there to still be minor damage that didn't have anything to do with the grime, and I was right, but it's not as bad as I'd feared. That won't take long to fix. That's a ways down the list, though. Priorities haven't changed: my power generators come first. Power Output: 10% of capacity. Cannot exceed 35% at the present time. As I'd told the ponies earlier, the energy boost I received from that lightning strike didn't last long. Being fed may have resolved my hunger for now, but it hasn't done anything for my level of alertness. The ability to push through it notwithstanding, I've been feeling tired all day. I'll be much happier once I'm back at full power and won't have to constantly fight off the desire to collapse. With that thought I focus my auto-repair's efforts on the power generators, setting them to its highest priority. I rotate on my borrowed cushion to look out the window. Now that I'm not on the run, I can take a moment to look out and get a look--however incomplete--at the world I'm in now. It's been long enough that the sun is beginning to set behind the cityscape, and I wonder to myself if the same thing is transpiring back home. I shake my head, chuckling mirthlessly as the sun slowly sinks out of sight, turning the horizon and the smattering of remaining clouds red-orange. It's a sight that I don't stop to appreciate often enough, and I wish I had the time back home to do so. A sliver of white-gray catches my eyes from another angle: the moon is beginning its ascent. As I watch it rise and ignore the sounds of Drama eating from the next room... ...Dramatic eating? I wonder if that's possible... Don't get distracted, Fairy. Anyway, I note to myself that this world's local sun and moon are moving slightly faster than normal. I suppose not all inhabitable worlds are meant to meet the exact same criteria as Earth, but all the same it bothers me. It felt warm when I was outside, though not too hot. Do they have the same 24-hour days here, or is there... ...something that... ...I...I am... ... "Drama?" I call, my voice breaking as I push myself away from the window. This isn't right, this is just plain not right."Drama Heart?" My patron pokes her head out of her kitchen. "What is it? I'm trying to eat. Was there something I missed?" "Please tell me, because I need to hear this." Why am I seeing what I'm seeing? Why can't I get my voice under control? "Please tell me that the sight of a giant pony's head on the moon is normal for this world!" "Been around for centuries longer than the city," Drama deadpans. "Why? Is it not like that where you're from?" "I wouldn't be on edge like this if it was," I answer with more heat than I'd wanted as I point outside. That's supposed to be Fefnir's thing, not mine. "The moon has never had anything permanent on it other than craters in its entire existence!" Seriously. It's one thing to be transported to a world and interact with a species that looks nothing like what you're used to seeing, but having their very visage stamped in the sky every night for all to see? The story behind this had better be convincing, because right now I am this close to eschewing my stance on logic. "Okay, okay. If it makes you feel better, yes: the sight of a giant pony's head on the moon is normal for this world," Drama tells me in a very dry tone. "Now, I'm sure your freakouts are important, but kindly put a clamp on them until I'm done eating. Okay, dearie? I have not eaten anything in the past nine hours, and I am very hungry." With nothing more to say, she withdraws back into the kitchen and continues her meal. A part of me wants to remove my helmet and smack my head on the wall. I didn't get an immediate answer to my admittedly hasty inquiry, and on top of that, Drama's not cut out for hospitality. For the sake of retaining some measure of dignity I restrain myself from doing so, though. I've embarrassed myself enough for both the day and my lifetime. I sigh to myself as I rest my forehead in my hand, and this time I'm not sure if I'm imitating the sound or if its the genuine article. I'm supposed to be better than this. Why am I letting myself get thrown for a loop each time magic gets thrown at me? And why am I making a big deal out of a handful of dark spots on the moon that coincidentally resemble a unicorn's head? ...They are coincidental, right? Well, whether they are or not, it doesn't matter. I have to calm myself down. I must calm myself down. And this isn't just for the sake of my dignity: it's for the sake of my sanity. I turn towards the pile of records that were set aside when the cleaning was finished. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Drama. Do you have any objections if I get some more music going? I need something to take the edge off before I go crazy." "Sure!" Drama calls back, her tone telling me that she was no stranger to 'crazy'. "That's what it's there for~!" At least she's okay with that. I get up to examine the records. I can't read any of the labels on their jackets, and some of the pictures on them are ones I find disturbing: one is an artist's rendition of a pony skeleton in a dark robe playing a stringed instrument at night. It's making me think of that first song Drama played, so I shake my head. That song might've fit her, but not me. The one at the bottom of the pile I don't recognize, as it wasn't one of those that Drama had gotten to before her work was done. There wasn't much to its cover, consisting solely of a photographed pony whose image was layered with shades of blue. Hopefully the music on this will sound better than most of those that my patron was playing. Not to say that they were all bad, as there was a diamond here and there. It's just that the style of music that Drama seems to prefer doesn't appeal to me as much as some might think it should. I carefully remove the record from its jacket and place it where it's supposed to go, mindful enough to follow the same procedure that I witnessed Drama using. Gently placing the needle on the edge, I sit back down and wait for it to begin... /-/-/-/-/-/ /-/-/-/-/-/ Drama's ears picked up the melody in the living room first, and the 'thump' of something hitting the floor about seventy seconds later. Not finished with her meal, she levitated her salad next to her and got up to see what the matter was. Leviathan was collapsed on the floor in front of the couch, eyes closed and lips set in an almost beatific smile. Part of Drama wondered if she had died somehow after the music began, so to satisfy that morbid curiosity she got in close and positioned an ear next to her guest's head. She withdrew a few seconds later: faint enough that nearly all ponies wouldn't hear it unless they were actively searching for it, Fairy's systems were still active and humming along. Drama stepped back and whickered a little, eyes casting towards the discarded record jacket. Which means she let herself get absorbed into the music and fell asleep because of it. Silly robot. The music had been a going-away present from her elderly grandfather shortly before she had left Baltimare. It was intended as a gag gift, but he had always had a weird idea of what was intended to be funny. Drama actually didn't mind the music too much, despite it not being something she typically listened to everyday, so she kept the record on hoof for whenever she felt like listening to something other than a traditional orchestra. And of course out of all of them, this was what she picked to ease her mind. Well, can't let her stay there like that, can I? After returning the cushion to its proper place, Drama carefully lifted Leviathan with her magic and deposited her gently on the couch, positioning her so that her helmet's fins jutted outward. She wasn't quite small enough to fit in it, given that her boots were sticking out over the hoofrest, but it would have to do. As Drama smiled softly, she decided to leave the music to play itself out and instead trotted for her bedroom, continuing to munch on her salad along the way. Maybe there was a spare blanket or two in her closet that she could use to cover up the sleeping Reploid. No point in cleaning up that dust only to bring it all back, she figured. I'm starting to think I might have underestimated what her world was like. She had made it clear that her life was a tense and violent one, so I had my suspicions, but I didn't expect her to zonk out like this just listening to a single song. Or to become unsettled just from seeing the state of the moon. This might be the first real peace that Leviathan has experienced in a very long time. ... ... In a world that only she could see, Leviathan floated atop an endless ocean beneath an equally eternal starry sky, gently moving to and fro with the waves as a school of fish swam beneath her. Her smile was just as blissful as it was in reality, and would remain so for the duration of her stay.