//------------------------------// // What Are They? // Story: False Memory // by TypewriterError //------------------------------// Rain has made an appointment at the hospital today. I stand in the common room instead of going outside or staying in my room. Behind me two girls argue over a game of chess. Neither of them understands the rules unless the human version really does allow the king to move anywhere as long as there is a queen on a black space. A teenager sits in the corner on the floor next to a perfectly good chair while she tries to teach herself to read upside-down. An elderly lady with cat’s eye glasses sits on a large couch and openly glares at anyone who approaches while she pleats her skirt over and over. Another woman and I stare out different windows at the rain. Her hair is straight but the moisture is making it frizzy. She never smiles and never moves. I can’t help but scan the grey clouds in search of pegasi. It’s a habit, I suppose, to keep watching them gather the weather and run it on schedule. Weather seems to run differently here. Everything here runs without magic. I don’t know how humans can stand it. I hug myself and glance at the girl again. She’s staring at me and it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t really want to go back to my room. It’s too quiet there. My letters are all gone and there is only socks. Dr. Cruebel and the nurse denied everything but I’m certain I didn’t just imagine that there was a drawer in my dresser filled with scrolls that had broken seals. They can’t explain the wax on the letters. There is no way I could have made those letters myself. I hug myself tighter. It could have...not been real though. That day I found the drawer of letters, I had walked to breakfast to find that the nurse, Sarah is her name, hadn’t visited me that morning. Of course she could just be lying...but how could I know? It was right after breakfast when I returned to my room to find the drawer was altered. What bothers me most is these other patients. Why would Discord create other patients to take care of? How real are they? If I touch them would they disappear? If I talk to them will they be real people or just projections to convince me that... I just don’t want to think about it. I cannot believe this is the only world. It’s too depressing. A few maple trees stand in the outside area beneath the window I’m looking out of. The rain pelts the brilliant orange and red leaves off to join those that have started to decompose to brown on grass that is drowning in umber puddles. There is darkness prevalent over everything here. I can’t believe this is my world. My world is love, harmony, and brightness against the darkness. Everything here is just gray; dark and light mixed so closely it is hard to see either. I realize somehuman is calling for me when I noticed the other woman at the window respond. I turn my head and hear Sarah call the name “Ashlyn”. I turn to look at her. “It’s group therapy. Come on now.” she says, not unkindly, but none too patiently. Wonderful. I have to talk to more humans and wonder if they’re real or not. The other female and I follow Sarah down the corridor, past my room, and down a set of stairs to another room painted a cozy yellow color with six delicious brown armchairs sitting in a circle around an oval wooden coffee table. As soon as we enter two other females look up at us. One has bright blue eyes that make you wish she would blink when she stares at you. The other is a frail female who looks at me with calmer blue eyes under a curtain of delicate blonde hair. She perks up when she sees me and hesitantly waves her hand to indicate she wants me to sit in the chair next to hers. Hopefully she won’t be offended that I don’t remember her. Of course I don’t remember her! I never met her! Still, I sit in the chair next to hers and the other patient who came with me sits down on my other side. Sarah sits down next to her. “Has anyone seen Kerry?” Sarah asks. “Dr. Cruebel moved her to another group...because of...” the straight haired woman said, giving a quick nod of her head towards me. But why me? What could I have done? “Ah, I see. Well, we’re very glad to have Ashlyn back with us after her accident.” “How are you doing?...Oh...I...” the blonde female next to me asks before shrinking back. “No, Charlotte, that was really good of you to ask.” Sarah says, with encouragement. Charlotte looks at the floor. Every other eye is waiting on me. “Accident?” I asked. “Yes, you were catatonic for about a week. We never quite got the story. Either someone did something to you or you did or saw something that shocked you...but, how are you now?” “I...I don’t know.” I stammer. “I see...” “Where is Dr. Cruebel?” the female with straight hair demands, accusingly. “He’s coming soon, right?” the unblinking female asks, squatting on her chair with her bare feet sinking into the upholstery. “I’m afraid this week he is not coming. He’s previously occupied and I will cover for him this week.” “He’s not coming back.” the straight haired female says with a sense of triumph. “What I was thinking...” continues Sarah, “is that since Ashlyn is having difficulty remembering anything before yesterday, why don’t we reintroduce ourselves to her? Charlotte, you start.” “But...I...” the female next to me bows her head and gives a sudden sob. “You can do it. I believe you can do it.” Very slowly the female lifts her head then points her eyes in my direction before looking down again and biting her lip. I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She takes a shaky breath and talks softly. “I’m Charlotte. I’ve been here for a few months...my family put me here. They love me very much...” she says and stiffens up too much to speak. The female with hair that was progressively growing frizzier looks at me. “I’m Mel. That’s it.” I nod, not sure of what else to do. “I’m Thalia.” the unblinking female says, “I checked myself in. I’m not sure when I realized I needed to be here but I was at this party and...” She continues to give the whole history of her condition. Rebellion against her parents, getting in with the wrong crowd, being mistreated by multiple humans she trusted. I can’t help but wish I could have made things different for her. She keeps smiling but I can tell it’s a front. She’s trying to be brave. The session continues and I find myself wrapped up in it. A few times I have to shake my head to remind myself that this is not real. These are characters made to distract me and keep me here. I have to escape; not be “cured” by illusion. After the session we head to lunch with numerous other patients. Charlotte seems to be my shadow. She doesn’t speak much but I can tell she wishes to say something. I’m sick as I look around at other plates of food. I see beef is offered in a stew and wonder how Discord expects me to watch as humans around me eat something I can hold a conversation with. A nurse comes over to Charlotte and me and leads us to a table where we sit silently. I hope Discord doesn’t try to make me eat meat. A moment later she hands covered dishes to Charlotte and me along with wrapped sets of plastic silverware. She said nothing but sits at a table nearby, looking at each table individually. “Do they ever talk?” I ask Charlotte. I have to turn my head to see her shake it. I look back at my dish hesitantly before lifting the lid. Oh good. It’s just a salad and vegetables. I unwrap my silverware and hungrily consume the green leaves. After a few bites I look around again. A few more humans in medical garb are standing around the room, monitoring everything. So they don’t talk. I watch them closely but still catch glimpses of other patients. A teenage female holds a teddy bear. The one attending her is trying to get the younger human to eat but the female shakes her head and hugs her bear tightly. An elderly patient sits at another table while an attendant spoons soup into her barely responsive mouth. Another elderly patient looks around, sobs openly, and a nurse goes to lead her away from an empty plate. I try to take another bite but I lower my fork again as I keep looking at the other female patients in the room. I just can’t eat here. So many humans sit here with issues so serious they have to stay. But, no, they’re not real. They’re only here to distract me. The female with the bear hugs it and suppresses her crying with repressed shudders and the nurse attending her sighs, visibly tired. The patient hasn’t even taken a bite of anything yet. I look down at my food. If I let myself, I can be so easily caught up in everything I see here. These images are not real but they’re so real in a different sense. I can’t stop thinking about Thalia’s story of hurt that convinced her to live a destructive lifestyle. The sound of the rainstorm seems loud to me. Everything is so depressing. How are humans supposed to get better here? I want to hide somewhere. I want to run so I don’t have to see anything. I glance at Charlotte. She pokes at her food and gives me a small smile. I take a hasty bite and chew. I don’t want to talk to her. The more these patients talk to me the more real they become. They can’t become real if I'm going to save Equestria. I have to find a way out of here. Charlotte and I spend the meal in silence. As soon as patients begin to leave I follow them and Charlotte shadows me, almost like a child looking for protection. I refuse to acknowledge her as I leave the cafeteria. I hear her footsteps behind me. I run. She runs to keep up but I run into my room and hold the handle so she can’t turn it and follow me. I’m shaking and I don’t know why. She’s not real. I hear a knock from the other side. Go away. Just go away. You’re not real. I hear a small sniffle as two hooves shuffle away slowly, pausing once before continuing. “You’re not real...”I breathe deeply to calm down and a sob escapes, “You’re not real. None of this is real...” What had all those humans in that room been through? What backstory did they have? How could they be so real if this was just a plot of Discord’s? They felt real. My hands shake as they cover my mouth while I slide to kneel in front of my door. None of it is real. Those humans do not exist. The old female’s eyes swam up in my memory and I sob again, harder. That sadness. It's all too real and all too contagious. Humans can be nothing more than an illusion, but their sadness can be real. I feel ashamed as I wipe my runny nostrils. The old catatonic patient... The female with the bear... I can’t think about it...I can’t think about it. They’re not real. I stumble to my bed and hide under the covers without changing into my pajamas. I just cry. I can’t think because if I think about it more, I picture them and I cry even harder. My chest feels tight and my stomach grows more and more nauseated as I continue to sob into my pillow. The old females eyes... The breakdown of the female with the bear... Thalia... Charlotte’s snuffling before walking away... They fuel the grief inside of me that tears won’t diminish. Eventually my eyes are sore and my pillow is disgusting with wiping my face on it. I’m too tired. I’m too tired to care that I'm reasting my head on it still. I can’t care about them. I have to get out of here. I’m so tired. My eyes close.