//------------------------------// // Scaring Soft // Story: Gears in the Void // by Lab //------------------------------// Necessity is the mother of invention, they say, and necessity wanted me to invent a name fit for a pony. From then on, I was Sterling Gears, for better or worse, although I wished there’d been more time to come up with a name. All things considered, it was lucky pony names are mostly gender neutral. With the awkward silence out of the way and introductions completed, my assault on dinner continued. Warm meals were a sorely missed luxury. Was it just desperation, or was Soft Down, the pegasus who owned the tiny hotel, actually a great cook? The flavor was rich, the vegetables were cooked properly, and it went great with the bread and tea. Campbell’s had nothing on this guy. “Don’t get many folk wandering down that road since they finished the new one between Ponyville and Canterlot,” Soft said, serving himself a small bowl of soup. “Just felt like taking the scenic route?” I winced, remembering the incredibly arduous day I’d had. You couldn’t see the bruises very well through my grey-blue coat, but they were there. “Something like that.” “Long story?” “Big time.” I chuckled. He nodded sagely. “Get plenty of those around here. I won’t pry if you don’t want to talk about it.” “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it. It’s your story to tell.” “I mean for everything. Can’t tell you how long it has been since I ate a meal like this. Between getting stuck in the mud and those creepy things out there, I wasn't sure I was going to make it.” “Creepy things? I didn't see anything. What were they like?” How could he not have seen them? He spotted me in that tempest when my head was all he could have seen, and I could hardly make him out. Soft had to have ran right past them. “They were shadowy… thingies.” “Can't say there was anypony but the two of us. Even the animals know better than to go outside in this mess. Is it possible that with everything going on you only thought you saw something?” If Dave had been around, I’d know for certain. “I guess. Anyway, I'm glad you found me when you did.” “Couldn’t exactly leave you out in that Everfree storm now, could I? Shoot, I bet you lost your saddlebags out there too, but hopefully it clears up by morning, so we can go searching. Point is, you’re down on your luck, and what kind of pony would I be if I didn’t lend a hoof? More tea?” “Nah, this will be my last cup. You mentioned it was an Everfree storm. Are we by the forest? ” Tea had never been my drink of choice, but this stuff wasn’t half bad. I was already almost done with my second cup. “No, that’s way over on the other side of Ponyville. You know how the Everfree Forest follows its own rules?” At my nod, he continued, “That means the weather too. Sometimes the storms spill over, and if they’re too big, the weather teams can’t break them up. They need to divert them.” “And I just had the good fortune to get caught in it?” This universe couldn’t have been trying that hard to get rid of me. Right? If that were the case, it could have at least sent a memo. “I guess so.” He tried to say more but was interrupted by a tremendous yawn. “Sorry about that. I’m an early riser, and it’s been a long day.” “You sure? I’m not that tired, so you don’t need to head to bed just so I have an excuse. See? I have plenty of energy.” “That’s not what I was getting at. You can stay up if you want, but with how you were walking earlier, I think you could use the rest. Just don’t make a mess and please stay out of the back.” Soft wandered behind the counter and used his mouth to pluck a key off the peg board. “Room number one is yours if you want it, free of charge of course.” If that pegasus left my sight, he might not make it to morning. “Please?” “I’m sorry. I have a business to run.” With a curt nod, he wandered into the back. His pillow cutie mark was the last I saw of him before he completely vanished. If Softie was going to be like that, I’d just have to stay up all night and make sure nothing happened. When the saloon doors finally stopped their distracting swinging, I grabbed the key, or at least tried to: they ended up getting brushed off the counter. The key was mocking me. “Of course. Couldn’t opt for the premium package and get magnet hooves.” “I swear, if you weren’t a loaner, I’d find a way to send you to the moon.” The taste of metal had always bothered me, but with the key held as far forward as possible, it wasn’t too irksome. “To the ‘ucking ‘oon.” The same technique wouldn’t work on anything too heavy or rough with how sensitive pony lips were. “Alright, you don’t like me, and I don’t like you, but let’s put aside our differences until later.” Well, that’s what I tried to say, but talking with items in your mouth is a hard skill to master, so I ended up sounding like I was trying to answer a dentist’s question while they stabbed my gums under the guise of cleaning them. A cozy room awaited me. No, not a room full of cozies—that would just be silly. It didn’t look much different than a rustic hotel room. There was a dresser, a table with a low stool, and a desk—all hoof-made from what could very well have been the same tree, but I doubted Soft Down did this as well. The only thing noticeably different from the furniture I was used to was the bed: it rested on the ground itself, and was more like a large cushion than a mattress. It would definitely be much easier than if I’d had to jump on it. I’m not clumsy, my body just likes to prank itself. If somepony would have warned me the toilet was a bidet, I could have avoided crashing into the opposite wall trying to get away from the wet surprise. It was awkward enough dealing with the different shape. Curious of how my face looked to others, I looked up from washing my hooves—little more than getting them sudsy and fumbling them about each other—and at my reflection. It was strange knowing that the foreign face in the mirror belonged to me. The pony in the mirror made faces at me during my examination. I’d already known my coat and mane color, so other than the teal eyes, nothing stood out. “I have no idea how a pony’s supposed to look.” Still, it was strange to look at that face and know it was mine. My reflection’s expression twisted into a sneer. “It’s your fault, you know. You had the only way out and—hey! Get back here!” “Nope. When the mirror starts talking, it’s time to go to bed.” “You can’t run away from all—” The taunting vanished behind a closed door. Now all I needed was a way to keep occupied for the entire night. Well, the bed looked plush, and there’s no reason I couldn’t be comfortable while keeping watch. Should be easy enough if the light remained unshuttered. —— My eyes snapped open, only to be promptly shut with a hiss as I rolled over and snuggled deeper into the blankets. The blanket felt fuzzier than what I remembered. The cot wasn’t that comfy either. Scrambling to my feet, I promptly fell over and remembered my feet were playing hooky and standing on only two legs wouldn’t cut it anymore. Right, pony. A second reminder of having hooves came when one of them clocked me when I tried to rub out shards of eye crust. The storm was gone, if the sunlight peeking in between the curtains was any indicator. Normally I wasn’t a morning person, er, pony, but my body felt revitalized and ready to bumble its way through the day without fifteen cups of coffee. I hadn’t slept that well in a while. Didn’t really remember going to bed though… Oh, shit! Soft! Hooves flailing every which way, I scrambled into the hall and bolted toward the stairs. At the last moment, it occurred to me the stairs wouldn’t appreciate my pace, and my hooves skidded to a stop. Or they would have if I’d tried stopping a couple meters further back. “Sweet Celestia!” Soft’s gasp was incredibly faint compared to the expletives spewing from my mouth. Hooves beat a rapid pace toward where I’d landed in a crumpled heap. “Can you hear me, miss? Are you alright?” Well, it sounded like Softie was okay, but why did he call me—oh right. “Just… just give me a moment.” “Do you need medical help? It’s not much, but I do have a first aid kit nearby.” “I’ve had worse.” Standing wasn’t too difficult, but everything that was already bruised from yesterday hadn’t appreciated the impromptu stress test. “See, I’m fine.” My teeth were grit so hard they should have started popping out like rivets from a bursting boiler. He sighed and shook his head. “What possessed you to come flying down the stairs like a foal on their first flight?” Soft had to have been growing tired of my semi-clingy behavior. It wasn’t like he could understand. “I forgot where I was and kinda panicked.” “Well, I’m glad you weren’t seriously injured.” The pegasus retreated toward the counter but stopped halfway. “Would you like some breakfast?” He was cooking again? Count me in. “What’s on the menu?” “Haycakes. What kind of tea would you like with your meal?” “The… tea kind?” “Chamomile it is.” The smell of haycakes wafted through the air, and I grew curious about their taste. If the smell was any hint, it’d be like pancakes with hay in the batter. The room was temperate thanks to a small breeze, and the lights had been shuttered in favor of open curtains and windows. Between the haycakes and the breeze, the inn felt cozy. I felt calmer than yesterday, probably since the bizarreness of being a mare was wearing off as it felt more and more natural. Don’t get me wrong, I was still floored from everything that’d happened, but I was nearing ‘Pony Zen,’ as it were. It was more than likely, though, that I had just had a great night’s sleep and was being introspective for no reason other than having nothing to do. My reverie shattered when a steaming pile of haycakes slid in front of me along with a small syrup container, shaped to be easy to pour with hooves. A tiny pad of butter adorned the two haycakes, and the texture was visibly different: you could make out the pieces of hay. How’d he carry that tray? I thanked Softie and awkwardly wielded the silverware. If ponies could grip things properly, I hadn’t figured out how. The assumption I’d had about haycakes was correct, but they were still scrumptious. And the blueberry syrup? To die for. I wanted to frame the taste so I could look back on it years from now, pine for the good old days, and then complain about current music. “Maybe your tastes changed to match your diet.” “You alright?” Soft, back behind the counter, asked warily. “I’m fine,” My voice came out hoarsely as my hoof dully thumped against my chest. “Just went down the wrong pipe is all.” Dave chuckled. “Look at you, reintegrating into society like a champ. Still need to work on the eating though.” I shot him the largest glare that was possible without Soft Down seeing it. Soft started humming a lively tune shortly after the incident, and it felt like I had theme music. My mouth opened to sing a few times, but I quashed each attempt with another bit of food. Luckily, I made it through the rest of the meal without dying, truly a feat for the ages. Dave laughed as breakfast finished. “I have to admit the almost-singing was one of the stranger things I’ve seen.” He had to be talking to me like that on purpose, knowing any response would risk me looking crazy. My eye twitched in frustration as I thanked Soft for the meal and asked if the dishes should be left on the table. “Certainly,” he replied. “Wouldn’t be much of an inn if my guests did any of the work.” “Well, I’m more like a refugee than a guest. You sure there isn’t anything I can help out with?” Dave stood behind Soft and made rude gestures. He looked away in thought. “Don’t think so. Oh, unless you want to bring a lamp out to the scrap heap for me. Always meant to do it at the end of the day, but never got around to it.” “One of the magic ones, right?” “Only kind I have around here. You sure you’re alright? You’re shaking.” He looked like he was unsure if he should be concerned or confused. Probably confused, if he figured out it was excitement. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” I may have said it more than a bit quickly, but I think it had at least been understandable. “Could I maybe poke around there a bit? Please?” “Why would you want to do that? It’s just trash.” He shrunk away from me, cowering behind the counter I’d somehow climbed halfway over. He quietly added, “Lady, you’re scaring me.” “Heh, sorry about that. I like to fiddle with stuff like that and haven’t had a chance to get a close up look at one of those yet,” I said sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head. My mane was so soft! No, I needed to stay focused—there was science to do. “Sure, I guess. It’s out back a ways, just don’t injure yourself. Here’s the lamp.” He picked up the lamp from behind the counter and pushed it towards me before retreating once more. “I promise nothing!” The front door didn’t even slow me down as I galloped with the lamp in my mouth. There was a strange flavor to it I couldn’t quite put a hoof on. “Slow down already!” Dave shouted, holding his hat on as I whipped past him. Despite me passing him, he was waiting for me at the junk pile, shaking his head slowly. ”Only you would be so excited to play in the trash.” The pile consisted almost entirely of broken lamps, although I wasn’t sure what “broken” meant in this case. A couple were still fully lit and others flickered occasionally, but most were dead and lifeless. Luckily, there were also a few bent, rusty tools and shards of scrap metal scattered about, so I wasn’t completely unprepared for a tinkering session. The lamp in my mouth was lobbed onto the pile. “Ready, Dave?” “I thought you’d be chewing me out for my fun earlier.” He chuckled. “Did you enjoy that, by the way?” “Nope to both. Doing science.” “You don’t even have fingers.” “Doesn’t matter.” A screwdriver with a cracked wooden handle had a crossbar attached to it for much-needed leverage. Maybe one hoof was supposed to hold it in place while the other turned it. “I suppose things would be designed with the dominant species in mind. I take it pony mouths are durable?” “Very.” I experimented with one of the lights that remained off, closing and opening the shutter. That part, at least, was entirely mechanical. “You were about to sing a few times when Softie was humming back there. Never knew you to be the musical type.” He was used to me being laconic when I worked, but that never stopped him from flapping his gob. “Pony thing I guess. Sang before you showed up on road.” I poked at the lamp with the screwdriver, trying to figure out the best way to dismantle it. “Really?” He scoffed, “What song did you sing?” “Made one up.” “Hmm. That's rather odd. Maybe there was more to the song numbers in the show than just having a song. So figure anything out yet?” “Might be magic. Nifty, right?” I removed two screws and gently removed the top like it was made of glass. No sense in breaking it further yet. “It’s possible I guess. I’d assume different reality means different rules. But don’t just resort to ‘because magic’ just yet.” Peering over my shoulder, he examined the inside of the lamp. “What kind of metal is that?” He had been referring to the dull, brass-like metal worked into a complex pattern on the inside. Sections of it looked to have corroded, however, becoming brittle and darkened. The bottom of the lid showed traces of the same deterioration. “Outside looks like iron, maybe wrought-iron. Hoof-shaped, judging by the subtle differences between pieces. Not sure about inside. Probably meant to contain the light source.” With the screwdriver and a surprising amount of force, some of the pattern dislodged and sparked like a firework. “That was a violent reaction for something we thought was inert. I don’t think it would be to keep the light inside. I think some sort of energy runs through it like electricity through wires. Is it ductile?” I flexed the metal with little difficulty, but it didn’t look to be stressing at all and retained its shape when I let go. “It bends easily enough. I’m not sure how strong I am now, but it’s like working with copper wire.” When it came in contact with itself, there was a faint sizzling and the tiniest spray of sparks. “Ooh, got some juice still.” “Let’s compare it to one of the lit ones. I have to admit, you’ve got me interested now.” Grabbing one with its bright light still bobbing up and down inside, I noticed its shutter was jammed. Hopefully, that was its only issue. Before me hovered the ball of light, and my hoof neared it despite Dave’s completely unreasonable, in my opinion, concern for my safety. It moved at my touch, but there wasn’t anything other than some tingling, like my leg had mostly recovered from falling asleep. When I removed my hoof, it slowly drifted back to its original position. A few more pokes, more for amusement than research, produced no result. Turning it upside down didn’t cause it to fall either. “Neat.” “The metal looks shinier also. Indicator of condition, perhaps?” I nodded. “Seems so. I’m going to get some of it.” Dave’s eyes widened as I positioned the screwdriver, using a hoof to keep it in place. One of my eyes closed to better my aim. “Don’t you dare. Remember how the unpowered one reacted? You’re playing with something new and potentially dangerous here.” “Yeah, like that’s ever stopped me before. This is what I do.” I chewed on a chapped lip while lining up the hit. No idea what would happen, but that question would be answered soon enough. Who knows what I’d find out and what uses it could have? My throat tingled as I let loose a roar of “Science!” and forced the screwdriver down, separating the iron and mystery metal. Sparks slowed to a stop mid-air, and a bright flash blinded me. Turns out you don’t need to be a pegasus to fly.