//------------------------------// // Voice in my head // Story: A Long way for a short story // by Shirlendra //------------------------------// Far away from Equestria… Across the ocean… Well, not so far. It’s more... above than away.  A pony stands, staring down at the abyss before them. Although, to label it as such is a little disingenuous. It’s more of a sink.  “What is in a decision anyway?” The pony asked no one in particular. “Is this one of those dumb questions?” A voice answers. To imply it’s a proper voice would be incorrect. “No seriously, hear me out on this. What makes up a decision?” The pony stares into that abyss and turns the tap with a touch of their hoof, a stream of water begins to cascade into it, the drain eagerly sucking at the liquid as it swirls slowly around it.  “Choice? Also, turn that off. You’re wasting water.”  A sigh, “Fine.” with a tap the stream of water cut off.  “Don’t you have something better to do?” “Nonsense, I am feeling odd today.” the pony meandered over to the cabinet.. With a flick of a hoof the cabinet door opened. Above, cans stood at attention, each labeled with their contents. “So… about what I was saying in regards to choice…” “You should have the sprouts, they are good for you.” “Yeah, but I want the chips.” The pony cocked their head and rummaged around for a moment to locate the half eaten chips, the bag crinkled as they removed it from the cabinet.  “Choices?”  “Yes, choices.” the pony sighed and with their prize made their way to the lounge area. The couch was wide and inviting. “The chair next to the window gives a better view.”  “That’s true.” The pony sat in the chair, looking out of the wide window. Beyond the window was the endless blue sky above, far below, a carpet of white clouds stretched to the horizon. With a hoof, they reached into the bag and took a chip. It was as stale and salty as they remembered.  The pony watched as the clouds slowly churned away below, enjoying the occasional chip. Till the deep blue of the sky took on a reddish hue and deeper in the cabin the gentle chime of a clock mounted to the wall signaled the time.  With a sigh the pony munched on that final stale chip. “It’s time for dinner.” “Yes” the pony reclined on the chair and glanced at the clock. “I am aware.” “Shouldn’t you go eat some real food?” “Perhaps.” the pony furrowed their brow for a moment before sighing again. “Yes, I suppose I should.” “That cute griffon might be there.” “I suppose…” the pony groaned and stood from the chair. “You’re pretty rank, go take a shower.” “I’m not…” the pony stuck their nose in their armpit. “Nevermind.”  It took only a moment for the pony to make their way to the tiny bathroom, little more than just the shower and toilet. With a deft hoof, they turned the knobs on the shower. Watching as the water began to cascade from the shower head. Well, cascading would be putting it nicely, it was barely more than a trickle.  It took a few moments for the water to heat and then the pony stepped in and began to scrub. “Soap or shampoo…” the pony stared at the tiny travel sized items. The generic packaging merely sat there, uninspired. “Both.” “Can’t do both. Not enough water.” the pony began to wet their mane. “Shampoo.” “But what if they want to come back to my cabin?” they stopped, hoof half way through the tangle. “Bodyspray.” “Ah…” and with that argument concluded, the pony sudsed up it’s mane and with the quickly dwindling allocated water supply got most of the shampoo back out of their mane and tail. The pony spun the knobs and the stream of water shut off. The shower was still quite warm from the water and so the pony stood in the shower a moment longer mourning for a moment over the loss of the warmth. “Put your head against the wall.” “Sweet Sisters. There’s no way I’m doing that, I don’t know where this wall has been.” They eyed it, looking over the technically clean wall.  “It’d look all dramatic. You know they clean it every other day.” “Not happening.” the pony grabbed a towel from the rack just outside the shower. It was a dull off white affair, the subject of a few too many overbleachings.  “It’s hideous.” “It’s a towel. It takes water off my fur. That’s it’s job.” the pony quickly rubbed themselves down, taking special care to dry every possible nook and cranny. “It’s dinner time.” “Yes, I’m going, I’m going.” the pony dropped the towel on the floor.  “Really? On the floor.” “Yes on the floor.” the pony began to rifle through their drawers. “I’ll pick it up later.”  “Before you leave.” “Fine.”  Selecting appropriate evening wear was no small feat and it took the better part of ten minutes to finally select the proper attire. It finally came down to a sheer evening gown with a matching scarf and necklace. Vs, a tailored pantsuit complete with bowtie and tophat.  The Bowtie and Tophat won out. “You look fine.” “I look like a pianist.” The pony spun once for effect, sending the coattails fluttering. “Pianists are respected.”  “For their ability to play piano, not their ability to dress.” The pony looked themselves over, it… was acceptable. “Details. Bring the pocket watch, it ties the look together.” “Mmm...” The pony looked over the pocket watch on the dresser, it was out of style but… there was a certain charm to it. They pocketed it. “Don’t forget the towel.” And with that, the pony kicked the towel towards the bathroom and headed out the door.  The air in the passage was chill, not overly so but enough to give one pause. Perhaps cool enough to warrant another jacket. The pony shivered for a moment and pressed on through the corridor. Small electric lights burned merrily in their recesses and gave a soft light to the passage, the carpeted floor below felt just like every other hotel that the pony had ever stayed in. It was infuriating. Where did they all even get their carpet, was there some sort of major carpet manufacturer that dealt only in hotel and hotel like carpets? If so, where were they? “Likely in some warehouse in Fillydelphia.” The pony snorted and quickly moved past a couple making their way the opposite direction, they gave the pony odd glances as they moved past.  “Upper Crusts.” “Mm.” The pony continued on, past the rows of cabins. Each one’s door immaculately stenciled with perfect lettering.  “You could scratch one, just marr it a little. No one would ever know.” “I’d know.” The pony climbed a set of stairs, then doubled back and climbed another. Ahead, a pair of plush double doors stood between them and their prize. “You could make an entrance.” “I’d rather not.” The pony mumbled absentmindedly as they walked to the doors and pushed them open with a hoof.  Golden sunlight streamed into the dim corridor, Illuminating the pony for the moment with it’s glow. Beyond the doors lay the dining hall, it sat in two stories. The lower hall, where the pony currently stood. And Above, nestled against the massive balloon that was their primary mode of lift, a smaller—more exclusive—dining area.  A waiter—”maître d'hôtel”—A Head Waiter… sauntered, over to the pony.  “Madame, would you care for the upper floor this evening?” He spoke with a slight inflection. “Like he’s trying to prove something.” The mare gave a perfect smile, all white teeth glimmering in the setting sunlight. “Why… Yes, I do believe I would.” “And your name Madam?” The Head Waiter, who’s nametag read “Demitasse” inquired. “Give him a fake name.” “Couture. Faux Couture.” She gave him a smile, eyes sparkling.  “Very good Madam Faux, please. Come with me.” Demitasse gave a slight bow and turned, a flash of magic and a menu was in his grasp. It was a quick walk. Well, Not too quick. Demitasse —despite his precise steps—was agonizingly slow to cross the lower hall. The tables around their path were abuzz with activity. Creatures of all shapes and sizes took up residence here. They enjoyed a variety of Cuisines, the scents of which filled Faux’s nose.  Finally, they ended the not so quick walk at the bottom of a thin spiral staircase that made its way up to the upper floor.  “Would you like to order here Madam Faux? Or at your table?” A pad and pen seemly to have appeared as if from thin air, hovering just over his shoulder.  “Must he put on this song and dance every day?” “I do believe I would prefer to order at the table, Thank you.” Faux gave a slight nod and a genuine smile.  “Mingling with the help. What would Mother and Father think?” Faux put her hoof on the first stair and began to make her way up it. “I’m not having this conversation again.” “If not now then when.” “Whenever they decide I ought to stop living off their bits.” The sunset really was beautiful, the final sliver of the sun was finally slipping below the far horizon. As Faux ascended, the lower floor fell away. The couples and groups fading into a mishmash of colors as she climbed the final few steps to the upper dining hall. The upper dining hall was nothing like the lower. Here, centerpieces sat upon every table. And the walls were lined with booths rather than chairs. Here, the hall was dominated by Equestrians. The low conversations taking place in the booths were drowned out almost entirely by the slow jazz being played by the live band at the far end of the hall.  “This is the place.” “No… it’s not, these ponies... They are… wallowing… in this.” Faux watched a waiter detach themself from a table.  “It is right.” “No… it’s not.” Faux waved a hoof at the waiter, waiving them off. With a smile that she’d worn a thousand times, she scooped up a half eaten plate of clams from the nearest seating arrangement and began a long walk to the kitchen.  “What are you doing?” “Taking steps.” It felt like only a moment before she was standing in front of the discreet swinging doors at the back of the hall opposite the band. The music, the jazz, followed her into the kitchen.  The kitchen staff for their part, didn’t even seem to notice the strange pony in their midst. A moment later, Faux was beyond the kitchen. A service hallway opened up before her. Doors lined the walls and longer utilitarian lights lit the hall. With a deep breath she started down that hall, eyes locked on the far end where a door sat, propped open with a wastebasket.  Faux dumped the oysters and plate in the wastebasket as she breezed by, A moment later she was through the door and in the belly of the balloon. High above, massive girders and thick cabling crisscrossed the space. It was actually quite spacious and despite the size of it. Well lit.  “You could go back. They’d never know. You’ve had your fun, now it’s time to return to the hall.” “I’m making a choice.” Faux stepped out onto a connecting bridge and for a moment, blanched. It was a long way down to the lower levels.  “You could be wrong.” “True… but I’ll never know otherwise.” And with another step, she began her exploration deeper into the ship.