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// 7 - A tale of scars 
// Story: The Memoirs Of A Reality Jumper 
// by Techogre 
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The interesting thing about pony toilets is they're like ceramic saddles with a lip set low to the ground. I could use them, but it makes reading on the throne a lot less comfortable. It turns out they also have a built-in bidet, and not only is the water ice cold, but is pointed in weird directions when compared to the human anatomy. 

I would also like to point out that half asleep at 3 A.M. is not the best time to learn to use a toilet designed for another species. Also, stairs designed for ponies are very narrow. Lets just say that by morning there was a big mess in the bathroom and the wall in the stairwell was damaged with an imprint shaped like me.

In the morning, I carefully made my way back down the stairs. I stopped and examined the damage in the stairwell. It wasn't that bad, and it was my ego that was hurt more than my face. Once I cleaned up the mess in the bathroom, I didn't feel like leaving the house that early, so I grabbed a chunk of beef jerky from my pack. I took a bite and placed the rest on the counter. I may as well eat it up. I figured it would be spoiled by the time I left this place.

I reviewed my clothing situation. I had lost most of it last jump, and all I had was a coverall, still smelling slightly of vomit, and what I was wearing yesterday, long pants and a simple long-sleeved tunic. I decided to start with my coveralls.

Warm suds. Simple repetition. Washing clothes lets you think, and I was thinking about what happened the last two days. I remembered My Little Pony as a television show; now it was a reality. I mean, I remembered bits and pieces, but they were fighting with 60 years of memories. Bad memories. I remembered the weirdest stuff, like money is bits, but I couldn't remember Scootaloo. It was frustrating, knowing I should know something but totally blanking. I hung the overalls to dry in the shower stall, took my shirt off and started washing it.

Still, this is a wonderful place. The people are so kind here, so accepting. It was strange being in a place where I was not a target. This place seemed to run on love and kindness. Not the usual 'don't look too deep, or else' kind of utopia, but, real honest-to-goodness kindness and love. Even the worst 'villain' was just rude. I was utterly alien, yet most ponies accepted me just like that. I didn't know Rarity and Applejack beyond some vaguely remembered fictional cartoon characters, but they were willing to drop everything for me, not only a total stranger but not even a pony. 

The omnipresent love and kindness made being here that much harder. You would think it would be wonderful to be bathed in it from all sides, and it is. But, when my mind wanders back to Ann or Dan or Lily, I feel a heavy weight on my heart. It only reminds me of what I left behind. Oh, sure, I can talk to them, even see them, but it's not the same as hugging them. In all my years of travel, I've been fairly stoic, enjoying the grand adventure, but ever since I arrived here, I've found it harder and harder to hold it all together. It's like this place forces you to feel your emotions. I'm not sure I want that.

Aside from my emotions, I still have the problem of what I will do with my time now that I'm here. I know I have more bits than Celestia, and I made those promises to Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash. But what could I do for Ponyville? What can I do to repay their kindness?

A knock and a familiar, confident voice interrupted my train of thought, “Morning, Alex! Can I come in?”

With a jauntiness I didn't feel, I replied, “Come on in, Dash! The door's not locked.” I was starting on the shirt, so I was stripped to the waist. I still had my back to the kitchen entrance. 

Dash spoke, a little muffled, “Hey, Alex! I just thought you might like...” I heard a gasp, and something soft hit the ground. Dash whispered, “Oh, apple-bucking moon, she wasn't kidding...”

I turned, only to see a paper bag on the ground with a few muffins spilling out. I looked up to Dash. She had a look that was a cross between horror, disgust, and pity. She rushed out the door, and then all I heard were retching sounds.

“Dash, what's wr...” I stopped as realization set in. I grabbed the wet, soapy shirt and threw it on while running out the door. Dash had her face low to the ground and had obviously just vomited.

She wiped her mouth, “Oh, Alex, I'm so sorry.” I'm unsure if the tears in her eyes were from being sick or something else. “Fluttershy told me you had some bad scarring, but I didn't expect...” She turned and was sick again. When she regained her composure a little, she whispered, “Who could do this to you?”

I thought, 'I didn't want to start my day like this. Yes, the scarring is bad, but it's just a scar. What is wrong with these ponies? Fluttershy wasn't sick, and Dash is a tough cookie. I just don't get it.' 

I helped her back inside, “Dash, I'm sorry about this. Fluttershy freaked out when she saw me, too. I didn't even think of covering up. Here, let me help you get cleaned up.” I used a clean washcloth and wiped her face. I figured it was easier for me to do it than she would alone. All she did was look at me with a sad expression while I did it. When I was done, she gently hugged me for a long moment, avoiding contact with my back. I continued pondering, 'Maybe it's because Fluttershy has taken care of injured animals? Maybe it's because... I don't know...'.

She looked at the dropped paper bag and said flatly, “I brought muffins for breakfast.” She smiled weakly, “Surprise...”

The shirt was getting cold and was dripping on the floor. I smiled kindly, “Thanks, Dash.” I saw her coat was wet from the hug. I sighed, “I'll get you a towel.” I grabbed my one remaining dry towel and put it around her shoulders. “So, why were you sick? I mean, I know it's really ugly back there, but it's just scars. I don't understand...”

“It's just, I've never seen scars like that on anyone or anything. It's like... like... every strip of hide was taken off your back, one bit at a time. I'm sorry I puked. I just... I've never...” She looked away, embarrassed. Finally, she said quietly, “I need to know. I need to know how it happened. I need to know so I don't have to imagine it.”

I wrapped the towel more tightly around her, avoiding eye contact. Then I sat with my back against the wall. I stared at the opposite wall, not daring to look at Dash. “About five and a half years ago, I landed in a world with humans, elves, and dwarves. There was magic, not as much as here, but enough to have wizards and clerics. It was what I had been calling a vanilla fantasy world. They were boring, with nothing exceptional, nothing that stood out. They were all basically the same. Anyway, they had a law that said anyone new to the land had to work for the crown for five years. If you came in voluntarily, you could choose stuff like eradicating a cult or stopping bandits. Stuff that, from a certain point of view, was 'fun adventure' stuff. If you didn't sign up, you were forced to work the mines for ten. Of course, no one told me about the law.”

“Anyway, I was tracking down a rumour about a wizard who claimed could travel between worlds. While I was at an inn, I was asked by the local guardsman for my citizen token. I had figured it was just some local religious custom. Well, I didn't put up any kind of fight. It's usually not worth the effort. They were 'kind' enough to hold my things until my sentence was complete. As weird as the system was, they were honest about it.”

“So, I was brought to the local magistrate. He said he bought my story but that the law was the law. There were armed guards, so, again, I didn't fight it. And they said I could get out early with good behaviour. That all my stuff would be returned to me. In fact, all my stuff would be kept at the guard tower, so once I paid my debt to the king, I could just leave.”

I closed my eyes, keeping my voice even, just spitting out the facts. “Punishment was harsh. Lashes. Always lashes. That was the only punishment. Talk out of turn, 10 lashes. Drop your pick, 25 lashes. Strike another slave 100 lashes. Strike a guard, 250 lashes. Break into the guard tower, 500 lashes. Try to escape, 2000 lashes. Actually escape and get caught, 5000 lashes.”

I glanced at Dash. She had this expression of incredulity. “They beat you? They took something and hit you repeatedly? What kind of monster could do that to another?”

I laughed, “You have to remember that this was all light punishment by their standards. But the worst part was the healing potions they would feed us at the end of the beatings. They healed, repaired nerve damage, everything. Everything except the appearance of the scars. They were to be reminders always to follow the rules. Unfortunately, I was a slow learner.” I sighed sadly at the memories, “I tried to escape six times. I think I got some punishment every single day. In the end, I did escape, and I managed to steal back the few items I had when I got here.”

I glanced at Dash. She sat silently, looking at the floor in front of her. I couldn't read her expression.

I continued, “The floggings were given in the open square. They had a production line going up to ten floggers. Every 25 or so lashes, they gave you a sip of healing potion. It tasted like a sharp lemon, lime, salty, and herbal mixture. Anyway, I was tied to an X-shaped stand at my wrists and ankles. And they would get to work. The worst part was that the flogger looked bored. It was just a boring job for him.” I smirked, “Just a punch clock villain.”

I closed my eyes, “They would start after the work day and the evening meal. There's no point in not getting a good day's work out of us. They couldn't give me all the lashes I earned, so they would beat me for up to an hour at a time, about 150 hits, every day for weeks. It became such a routine that I didn't even cry out after a while. I would even try to chat with the flogger. I'm sure that earned me a few extra hits. It also let me tell my story and, in the end, get some help.”

I smiled sadly. “Garat, son of Sinabi, took pity on me. He was one of those punch clock villains, not a bad man. He just believed in the system. Anyway, he saw the system wasn't made for corner cases like mine. So, he helped me escape. At the end of the day, he made sure to run out of healing potion, and when he got more, he slipped me my pack, which still had the coins, laptop, knife, a change of clothes, and some food. He ensured the guards were distracted long enough for me to escape.”. I grew sad, “I regret not finding out what happened to him.”

“I was on the run for the last two months, hiding in the woods, stealing food, avoiding patrols. I finally jumped here, and this is a glorious place. Dash, you have no idea how wonderful this place is.” I looked at Dash, “I'm sorry I wasn't totally honest with you from the get-go, but I think you can understand why. Still, I'm glad I've got that out of the way. Nothing left but the gory details. And, please, I really don't want to go back there.”

We sat for a long time, each lost in thought. Dash finally broke the silence, “I can't say I understood everything you just said, but I think I got most of it.” She considered everything she had heard, “And, if that wasn't the gory details, I don't need to hear them.”

I grunted, “Ya, let's just skip that part.” I cleared my throat, “So! Change of subject. Do you mind if I have one of those delicious-looking muffins? I'm starving!”. I smiled, “After all, it takes a lot of calories to sustain my massive ego.”

Dash chuckled and smiled weakly. I wondered if she was trying to drive the images from her mind. With forced joviality, “I can't see that being a problem monkey boy. And if you do get out of hand, I'll put you back in your place.” Dash looked at the muffins and turned a slight shade of green, “I think I'll skip the muffins for now. My stomach is a little, heh... weak. Anyway, I have... er... stuff to do.” She finished quickly, “Oh, and before I forget, Twilight wants to see you this afternoon. I'll see you later at Twilight's, okay?”

“You bet.” I smiled after her, but when she left, I started mentally reviewing her reactions and the kind of world this was. As I was contemplating recent events, I ate two of the four muffins, and I had to admit, they were fantastic. But, as good as the muffins were, I still had the problems of a freaked-out Dash, clothing, and what to do with my new life here. 

Even though my problems here were simple on the surface, the thought of hurting any of these ponies just tore me up. I never thought I would say this, but having a mad scientist trying to take my brain out to use in their atomic robot sounded so much easier to deal with than making a life here without hurting any feelings.

By late morning, the coveralls were dry enough, so I changed into them. The shirt was still damp but dry enough for what I had in mind. I was going to head to Rarity's first, then to Twilight's. 

The day was beautiful, just one lone cloud, a perfect day. As I walked along the gravel path, I was happy to have a sense of purpose, even if it was just to get some clothes and talk to Twilight. Those would be outstanding accomplishments. 

About halfway to the town proper, I heard an angry voice, “Alex Roberts! What did you do to Rainbow Dash? Why is she crying, holding herself, and rocking back and forth?”. The voice belonged to the previously quiet and gentle Fluttershy. I turned around to see her hovering with her arms crossed and a furious expression.

I looked at her, confused and worried, “Wait! What happened to Dash?”

“You've lost the right to call her Dash! You will call her Miss Rainbow Dash, you big meany!”

“Hold on a sec! What's going on? What's wrong with Das...” I saw the expression on Fluttershy's face harden, “Miss Rainbow Dash? The last time I saw her, she took off and said she had stuff to do. Is she... oh... damn...” I looked up at Fluttershy, “I think I know what's wrong. I... I didn't mean to do that to her. It's just that she saw the scars on my back, then she was sick, and wanted to know what happened. I didn't get into the gory details, and she seemed a little shaken up but basically fine when she left...” Fluttershy's expression softened.

“She wanted to know about your back? Beyond what you told me? Oh, well, that might explain it. That's not the kind of thing we see much of in Equestria. And Dashie has always been a little squeamish under all that bravado.”

“What can I do to help? Dash”, I said with a little defiance, “is my friend, and I'll be damned to hell before I don't do anything to help her, but,” I sighed, “I don't know how this world or its people works. I thought I had a clue; I thought I knew it all, but a kid's show is not a good primer for this. Something as simple as breaking bread with a friend has a whole different meaning here. I'm afraid anything I do will be wrong and that I'll just hurt her or freak her out. If it helps, this is what I told her.” I repeated the story to Fluttershy. She was shocked but surprisingly stoic, and by the end, she was starting to tear up. I ended it with, “Please don't cry, and please don't feel sorry for me. What happened is in the past. Let's leave it there. I've forgiven those who hurt me. I want to, as it were, change the subject and carry on.”

Fluttershy sighed and smiled sadly, “Alright, I will never mention it to anyone.” Her expression changed to embarrassment, “I'm sorry for calling you a big meany. I know you're her friend, but she's mine too, and I was just upset. Sorry for being so aggressive. It's just that she kept muttering your name, and I thought you had done something. I know Dashie, and I know a story like this would affect her deeply, but if she's letting you call her Dash and she asked for the story, she considers you a friend. And once she digests the information in her own way, she will be back. I expect to see her later today, tomorrow morning at the latest.”

I felt relieved, “Good. I'm happy she's able to deal with this.”. I looked up, “Is that her?” I pointed to the single cloud in an otherwise perfect sky. Fluttershy said it was. “So, me asking you to bring her down here to talk it out with me will not work. In fact, it may make it worse?” Fluttershy agreed it would be a bad idea. “Well, I feel useless.”

My friend, the sky-blue angel, is suffering, and there's nothing I can do. God damn me to hell.