"I swear, my parents named me purely for the sake of irony." Squirming against the side of the glass elevator, my best friend glances worriedly my way. "Don't you think so?"
I sigh long and hard. "I've no idea what you're talking about, Aynrandy."
"Of course you do!" He smirks, bouncing a holographic ball between two gloves as we ride the speeding elevator up the apartment spire in purple daylight. "You're a genius! Why else did they hand the prototype to you?"
"They didn't exactly hand the prototype to me." I flick my gloved hand, briefly checking up on the day's business reports as they floated in front of me. "It was a random drawing, and I happened to be the member of the staff who got to take it home."
"You've been making the best out of it, I bet," Aynrandy said with a sly smirk.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, you've been locked away inside your apartment for so long these days and nights."
"So?"
"I doubt the Viking expected you to be so hardcore over a simple beta test."
"Eungh... Ayn..." I roll my eyes. "For the love of Zoram, don't call him 'the Viking'."
"Pfft. Why not?"
"Well, for one, he's our boss."
"And a damn good one at that."
"And for another, it's been several years since he sacked the jerkoff producers of The Gallilean Report on live t.v. He doesn't need more reasons for that reputation to stick."
"Well, they deserved it. They shoved him out in the cold."
"Yeah, well..."
"Why can't you be more passionate about your job?! For real, though! If I worked with the Viking that close and personal—"
"You don't," I grunt.
"Don't rub it in." The elevator reaches its destination. As the glass doors schwisssh open, we walk out onto the windswept balcony to the sound of seagulls and puttering hovercraft in the purple sky. "The guy's really awesome to work for. I'm lucky enough to get so much as a glimpse of him! But you're bumping elbows in the office on a regular basis! And now you're getting a pony suit?"
"It's called a Trans-Dimensional Void-Skipping Article."
"Zoram bless you."
"And the only reason I've been allowed to beta for it is 'cuz the boss needs somebody on the staff to get a hands-on perspective on how the product works before we push it for the sponsors on next month's holiday episode!"
He squints at me, juggling his holo ball. "You sure that the drawing wasn't somehow rigged in your favor?"
"Ugh..." I roll my eyes and close the floating browser with two clapping gloves. "And just why would the Vik—er... the boss do that?"
"Maybe 'cuz he likes you." Aynrandy smirks. "Maybe because he knows a potential future show writer when he sees one. Or even an executive producer!"
"Please..." I sigh as I shuffle towards the plain white door to my apartment. "If that was the case, I would have been promoted by now."
"And that's what you want? Eh? Ehhhhh?"
"Meh." I stick a gloved finger out, forming a luminescent key that slides like a ghost into the door's optical pad. "I'm not half as smart as you think I am, Ayn. A lot of times, it's easy to mix up muted ponderings with mulling apathy."
"Doesn't sound like the attitude of someone who just won a free pony!"
The lock to my door clicks loose, and yet I take the time to glare aside at him. "It's not that simple."
"And why can't it be?" He shrugs, smirking. "Zoram knows, I'd love to have a cosmic space pony of my own to cuddle up to and watch episodes of Dances With the Centaurians with."
"Well, give it a year or two, and you can buy your own Article."
"Pffft! Yeah! At—what—a downpayment of forty million beijings?"
"I'm afraid the market value hasn't been set yet."
"All the more reason for me to envy you." He winks as he walks the space down to his adjacent apartment. "Hey, you and I go way back—like... ten years now?"
"Yeah. Just about. So?"
"Statistically speaking, I should be able to guage where you stand as a person. And right now... even through all the seriousness and monotonous bullshit?" He slaps his holoball against the wall, smashing it into a translucent key that he snatches in between two gloved fingers. "You're clearly the happiest I've seen you in a lonnnnnng while." He winks.
I blink.
"Smell you later." Aynrandy enters his apartment and is gone.
I pause there, shuffling where I stand. A stellar cruiser roars overhead, causing a few martian centipedes to skitter in and out of hiding of the building's cracks. With a groan, I walk in and shut the door behind me.
I lurch into my room, stripping my gloves off, feeling a slight shiver upon the neural disconnect. Holstering them on the pegs positioned atop my bedside table, I shuffle towards my walk-in closet. My head turns as I glance at the tiny-tiny article of clothing that's draped over the end of my vanity.
The blue hoodie lies still, its seams glowing with rolling pulses of neon light. I spot where the paper-thin cord is connecting it to the wall outlet.
I come to a stop, fingers flexing and unflexing. Eventually, with a defeated sigh, I walk over and pull the bottom part of the hoodie inside out, examining the tag: '95%'
"Hmmm..." I smirk to myself. "Faster than last time." I turn towards my closet again. "The quantum batteries must be acclimating to the power drain—"
Just then, the dim bedroom lights up with a lightning pulse of blue. I hear a chiming sound.
I turn towards the hoodie.
It pulses again, once more accompanied with the chime. I see the pouch pocket remaining lit while the rest of the jacket goes dark.
My heart races. I dash over, straighten the hoodie, and—holding my breath—reach a hand into the pouch pocket. I fish around for a bit, licking my lips in the process. At last, my fingers brush up against something. I pull out a wadded-up piece of paper. Unfolding it, I can clearly see words scribbled across the sheet, but it's too dark to read them.
Grumbling, I slap my elbow against a switch on the wall. A square-section dissolves, revealing a window to the sprawl. Purple light wafts into the room, illuminating the sheet in my grasp. Adorably messy hoofwriting reads: "Done with Apple-bucking. I even took a bath this time. Did y'all want to hang out?"
I smile. I look across the room to my desk. I walk over, place the sheet down, and strip loose a page from a square notepad. Using a pen, I write a line or two in cursive: "I just got off from work. Sure, I wouldn't mind having you over for a bit. Just message me when you're ready."
Once done, I fold up the paper, walk back to the vanity, and slide it into the pouch pocket of the hoodie. I give the tag a good tug. The pouch flashes bright blue, then dims. All is still.
I lean on my left foot, then on my right. Rather then wait, I turn around and grab some dirty laundry from the closet. Throwing them into the sonic wash, I fiddle around the apartment a bit, watering the plants in the kitchen window, filing some drives away in digistorage, dusting off the top shelf of an unused bookshelf... for no apparent reason.
I hear the chime from clear across the room. I practically book it through my apartment, having to slide to a panting stop before the balcony. I catch the hoodie just as the pouch pocket is dimming. Quietly, I reach in and fish around until I find a second wad of paper. Unfolding it to the purple daylight, I spot the words: "More than ready whenever you are, sugarcube."
I smile. Carefully, I snap the power cable free from the lower hem of the hoodie. I pick the article up, look around, then decide on the bed. Kneeling before it, I spread the article out, its sleeves stretched at full length. Then, after taking a meditative breath, I grab the neck of the sweatjacket... and pull in opposite directions. The strings retreat into the loosened hoodie. As a result, there's a deep bass tone, and not long after—
It almost looks like her mane is the first to materialize, but I know that it's just an optical illusion. In an unfolding orange shadow, a tiny pony fills the hoodie to capacity. Barely a second after her limbs have solidified, I gasp—for she's pouncing on me and giving my upper body a deep hug.
"Howdy!" Applejack chirps.
I giggle and pat her shoulders through the hoodie. "Howdy yourself!" I push her back so that I can see her smiling, freckled face. "Wow, someone is certainly... uhm... bouncy..."
"Can ya blame me if I can't help it?" She winks. "I haven't seen ya in forever, darlin'!"
"Applejack." I smirk slyly. "It's been barely two Galilean days."
"Like I'm even supposed to know what that means! Shoot, I missed ya somethin' fierce, sugarcube."
"Heh... alright, alright—"
"Pssssst..." She looks all around as if we're being watched by hidden spies.
"What... wh-what are you whispering for?"
She motions with her orange hoof.
So I lean forward to the edge of the bed.
She plops down on her haunches, digs her hooves into her front pouch, and pulls out a wad of paper sheets. "Take a gander at what I snuck into the hoodie on my end before you 'ported me over here."
"Huh?!" I squint, then sigh. "AJ... we've talked about this. They don't want you smuggling stuff in from Equestria while I'm beta testing."
"T'ain't smugglin'!" Applejack frowned. Then smirked. "More like snugglin'! Or at least pictures of snugglin'!"
"Uhhhhh..." I raise an eyebrow. "Do I need an adult for this?"
"Oh, quit yer sassin'! I'm only talkin' about photos of my best gal-pals and I!"
"Wait... you didn't..."
"I sure as sugar did!" She chuckles, tossing her mane back and showing off the pictures in her grasp, fanning them out like a deck of cards. "Finally! You get to see what Twilight and Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie and the rest of the gang looks like! Bet you've never seen the photo of a baby dragon before neither!"
"Uhhhhh..."
"Oh, don't use that tone of voice with me! Spike may be a frumpy little varmint from time to time, but he's a sweet feller with a heart of gold!"
I giggle and pull one photo from her stack, turning it around so that she can see. "Does he look at all like a giant black slate?"
"Huh?" Applejack gasps, giving the sheet a double-take. "What in tarnation?!" She glances at the rest of the photographs, saddened to see that they too are nothing but black sheets. "Awwwwww dog gone it! What in the name of apples and oats happened?!"
"And that's why they don't want you bringing stuff here with you, AJ," I say, giving her chin a friendly little scratch. "I'm sure they were good photographs, and I hope you had copies—because their chemical composition didn't survive the cross-dimensional jump to my home."
"Well, whallop my wither..." She tosses the sheets behind her and fwomps onto the bed, ears drooped while she sad-faces. "I feel plum stupid. I figured I'd get a chance to let you know what my best friends look like."
"Well, maybe not all's lost."
She perks up instantly, ears twitching. "Really? H-how?"
"Well, I could fire up the holo-emitter and see if the computer can scan the photos and come up with a salvageable pattern."
"You think so?!" She hops up, blond tail flicking happily behind her hoodie. "Well, time's-a-wastin'! Let's get down to it!"
"Heh... I have to get down to it." I pluck my gloves from their pegs on the bedside table and grab the spilled photos. "You, on the other hand, make yourself at home."
"Uhm... s-sure thang!" She lingers at the edge of the bed, wriggles her hind-quarters, and carefully hops down onto the carpet so that she's trotting after me. "In the meantime... uhm... I reckon you dun have anymore of that wonderfully tasty red stuff in the refrigerator..."
"What, the Neo Hawaiian Punch?"
"Erm... y-yeah..."
"Don't be so modest. I buy that stuff especially for you."
"Yeeeeha! I mean... erm... if you dun mind me havin' a sip or two. The stuff's nectar, I swear to Luna."
"Heh. If you say so..."