//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Blast From The Past // by Blazer //------------------------------// I stared at her in disbelief, jaw agape. The receptionist looked back at me hesitantly, unsure of what to say. “Look, I don’t know what else to tell you, Mr. Jestream.” I gulped. “Two hours…?” I managed to croak. She nodded. I licked my lips nervously. “H-how… did she…?” I started. “She arrived in a bad state. Nonresponsive, staring blankly at the ceiling, etcetera. According to the reports…” She ducked behind her desk, digging through multiple files in the drawers. She returned with a folder, sifting through its contents. “Our best heart surgeon was called in to operate. After three and a half hours, the operation was finished and declared a success.” “Success? Then what happened...?" “It says here that she never got better. She should’ve recovered from surgery a few hours afterwards, but her condition progressively deteriorated.” The receptionist frowned. "There aren't any definitive causes, although it was assumed she lost the will to live." She trailed off as she read the last sentence. “She died at 3:47AM this morning.” I immediately tore away from the counter, not wanting to hear any more. “Jetstream, wait!” The receptionist yelled, her cries fading as I ran. Pulling the sweater-jacket a little higher on my shoulders, I took off, speeding towards the morning horizon. The roaring wind quickly died down as I withdrew into my thoughts. Lost the will to live?! The memory of the Q&A session resurfaced. My cruel words to her. The expression of shock and despair on her face. Then the heart attack. My nose stung as the realization hit me. She died because of me. I blinked hard, trying to dislodge the tears that fogged up my vision. A horrible nausea bubbled in my stomach, threatening to jump into my throat. I had to land. She died because of me. I banked towards a vista point positioned on a large hill in the outskirts of the city. After a rather ungraceful landing, I galloped to the rail, the nausea leaving my stomach. She died because of me. I slammed into the rail, gagging and coughing. I threw up, emptying last night’s dinner over the rail. I spat several times, trying to get the acidic taste out of my mouth. She died because of me. I stared blankly at the sparse landscape below, a grassy plain dotted with trees and rocks the glaciers from long ago had left behind. My gaze slowly drifted upwards, setting on the city of Manehatten. My vision fogged again, the hot tears burning my frozen cheeks. All I could do was stare as the tears continued to fall. -- “Jet, you listening?” I didn’t answer, too sullen to respond. My co-captain frowned slightly. “Look, I know you feel like you should be here, but you can’t practice if you’re going to be bumping into us half of the time.” She explained, as if talking to a child. “It’s dangerous for you and us if you’re flying distracted.” She said, her condescending tone boring into my quickly-thinning patience. My anger quickly faded when she gave me a disarming smile. “Take the week off, Jet. The race isn’t for another four months.” She said simply. I snapped out of my brooding, finding comfort in her words. “Y-you’re right. You’re totally right. Sorry about today.” I stuttered, standing up. “Take it easy, Jet.” She added as I left the field, the door thumping closed behind me. I trudged to the locker room, easing off my Manehatten Meteor uniform. Stretching my wings a few times experimentally, I strode to the mirror, staring my reflection in the face. A tall, broad-shouldered colt sporting a wild, dark-green mane and a neutral beige coat stared back at me. Its once-fiery eyes had now dulled to twin coals in a dying fire, their look an equivalent to a broken smile. What happened to you, Jetstream? “Heeey! The stallion of the hour!” A familiar voice rang out. I couldn’t help a grin as a maroon colt with luminous blue eyes gave me a mischievous grin through the mirror’s reflection. “Hello to you, too, Windchaser.” I chuckled. The colt looked at me through the mirror, laying a foreleg over my shoulers. “Why the long face, buddy?” He asked. I sighed at the oldest joke in the book. “I’m a pony. My face is always—” “No, no. You know what I mean.” Windchaser nudged me, his tone completely serious. His gaze was even more so, the blue eyes staring into the very fibers of my being. “Tired of your favorite joke?” I asked, already knowing what he was about to say. “Typhoon told me what’s going on, as well as what happened with Rainbow Dash at the Q & A sesh.” I flinched, struggling to keep my emotions down. “Y-you can read me like a book.” I replied shakily. Windchaser shook his head. “I think just about anypony can tell that you’re either mentally insane or having a hay of an off-day. You look terrible.” He sighed. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I may not look 100%, but I’m not going insane.” I said dismissively. “I’m fine.” I insisted. "Anyways, Typhoon also told me I should give you this.” Pulling his locker door open, Windchaser tossed me a small business card. I caught it deftly in my wing, depositing it onto the bench. I scanned the bold red lettering in the top. “Dr. Bell: Hypnotist and Psycologist.” I read aloud. “You’re recommending me a shrink?” I asked, raising my brow. “I’m not recommending. I’m making you see this guy.” Windchaser stated flatly. “If this guy could get me to stop thinking about my divorce with Grassleaf, he can solve this issue without incident. Besides, it’s the best thing for you now. If you’re not going to talk about it to us, maybe he’ll fare better.” “Chase, you know I wouldn’t keep anything from you. We’ve been friends since we were foals. You’re probably the one colt I trust more than my late mother.” Windchaser sighed as he squared himself towards me. “You were right about that first part. I really can read you like a book. You’re keeping everything bottled up. The pain, emotions, thoughts, you name it. The only thing you’ve been honest about is what happened at the Q&A session. Not what happened in your head," Windchaser replied. My sudden desire to go home pushing me to submit, I pulled on my hoodie, hastily stuffing the business card into my pocket. “Alright, alright. No need to get your uniform all mussed over this.” “Jet, I’m sorry. I’m just unhappy that you’re so broken up over this.” I paused in the doorway, giving him a sidelong glance. "What is it you want to say?" "You were like this when your mom died. I thought I saw a pattern, and I was scared to lose you to that sadness again. I mean, you recovered from that eight months ago. I didn’t want to see you down again.” He said. “I miss the old Jet from flight school." His words stung me, but I couldn’t put my hoof on why. "Okay. I'll check out this Dr. Bell. Sorry for whining about you helping me. When is my appointment, anyways?” I asked, glancing at the clock positioned over the door to the flying field. Chase blinked. “You’ve got about twenty minutes to get there.” He said, nodding to the pocket containing the business card. “we thought you should get started right away.” Grabbing the business card from my pocket, I read the address, my mouth opening in shock. “This… This is halfway across the city!” I gasped. Chase gave me the mischievous grin again. “Your ‘practice’ for the day.” He said, chuckling. With no time to spare, I tore out of the locker room. Sprinting towards the edge of the clouds, I leapt off and spread my wings, speeding towards the far side of the city. -- I burst into the abnormally quiet waiting room, my ragged breathing filling the silence. I took a quick glance around the empty room. It was similar to the hospital’s waiting room, except it was much more homey-looking. The wallpaper was made to look like the walls of a log cabin, despite the outside having a relatively modern touch. A single portrait broke the continuous patterns of the intertwined tree trunks that encircled the room. It was an older pony sporting a messy brown beard lined with numerous streaks of grey hair. A beaten hat with a medium-length brim sat on his head at an informal angle. The pony gave the camera a confident grin, although his mouth remained closed. His face looked weathered, and his eyes kind but strong, like that of a hard worker. My gaze lingering on the strange stallion, I trotted up to the desk, nodding to the receptionist. “Hello. I’m here to see Dr. Bell.” I said quickly. The receptionist smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, but Dr. Bell is out today. He’s bedridden with a severe case of the Cutie Pox.” I winced. Bedridden, or potentially creating some horrifying disaster somewhere with that illness. I thought. I turned to leave. “Okay. I guess I’ll come by, same time tomorrow.” “Oh, but sir! His understudy, Ryan Syllabus, is available at the moment. Your appointment will still happen, but you’ll be talking to him instead.” She explained. Complications already on the rise, huh? I thought. I was already starting to like this place less and less. I quickly buried my dissatisfaction with a small smile. “That’s fine. At least I didn’t fly halfway across the city for nothing.” I replied. The receptionist gave me the double-take. “W-what?” She asked. “Nothing at all.” I shot back in an attempt to cover up my previous comment. The receptionist got up from her desk, smiling. “Okay, then. Just follow me to Ryan’s office, and we’ll get you started right away.” She replied, ushering me to the door on her left. Passing more portraits of more grizzled-looking ponies, we traveled down the length of the hallway, arriving at two doors. One was obviously Dr. Bell’s office, marked “Ronald J. Bell” on a gold plaque. The other was marked by a hastily written note covering another gold plaque that read “Storage.” The note itself read “Ryan Syllabus: We’ll turn that frown upside-down!” The receptionist rapped three times on the second door, then opened it, stepping aside for me. “Dr. Syllabus is ready for you.” She said. I hesitantly stepped inside, distracted by a loud shuffling and flurry of papers behind a desk to my immediate left. A messy-looking yellow tail danced about, flicking left and right as its attached body scurried to organize the cluttered desk. When this “Dr. Syllabus” finally appeared, I wasn’t surprised when his look was similar to his clean space-keeping skills. The unicorn’s messy head of hair was scarcely combed, and he wore an unbuttoned collar and loosened tie. A pair of rectangular lenses sat across his nose, lacking rims entirely. However, they did little to improve his already unsophisticated image. He gave me a toothy grin as the receptionist left. “Hello! New patient?” He asked cheerfully. I smiled nervously. “That’s me.” I said. He immediately stood up, offering his hoof. “Welcome to Dr. Bell’s psychiatric services. I’m his understudy, Dr. Syllabus.” He said, still grinning. I shook it, still wearing a stupid smile on my face. “So I’ve heard.” I said. Ryan motioned to a chair with several stacks of papers. “Just take a seat, and we can get this party started.” I took a tentative glance at the papers. They look pretty important… “Oh, just set ‘em on the ground. Actually…” The unicorn’s silver aura surrounded the stacks, tossing them haphazardly behind a couch at the far side of the room. Ryan gestured to the seat again. “Okay, try it now. Should be more comfortable.” He added, winking. I plopped gently into the red armchair, finding it hard not to slouch as I sank into the cushions by a few inches. It was surprisingly comfortable. Ryan chuckled when he saw the satisfied expression on my face. “Yeah. Nice, huh? They’re nicer than my couch at my college dorm. I’ve asked Bell where he got these, but he told me he brought them from his house. He still won’t let me buy one from him.” I sat unmoving, still too nervous to speak. Ryan took notice to this, frowning. “So… you gonna make me do all the talking, or…?” I grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Didn’t know when I was supposed to start.” I said. Ryan gave me a peculiar look. “You’re a funny one, arent’cha?” He asked, a grin visibly tugging at the side of his mouth. He reclined in his chair, his aura levitating a pencil and notepad at his head level. “So, let’s talk about why you’re here. Can’t fix the problem if I don’t know what’s bothering you.” He said. I looked down, still not comfortable in explaining myself to somepony that I had talked to for about several seconds. “I-it’s a long story.” I said dismissively. “Well, this appointment doesn’t end for another two hours, so I think we’ve got enough time to hear it.” He replied, not even looking up from his notepad. I scowled. I had never liked it when somepony gets involved in a battle of wittiness. I mentally caught myself, abashed at the way my thought process had deviated from my regular nice-guy attitude. He wants to help you, Jet. Pissing him off isn’t going to do you any good. “It happened yesterday.” I began. -- “You missed her by two hours?!” Ryan exclaimed, the possessed pencil scribbling madly on the notepad. “Yeah. And I was so close to asking her why.” I said. I swallowed hard as the nausea started to work its way back into my stomach. Forcing myself to talk about it was taking its toll on me. “So now you’re an insomniac because you want to find out when this ‘relationship’ ever happened?” Ryan asked, reviewing his notes. I nodded. “Correct.” “But you can’t now because she passed.” “Yep.” Ryan put a hoof to his chin. “And you haven’t considered going to a séance for this or something?” “No, because it hasn't even been twelve hours since it happened," I sighed. The nerve of this guy... "Just throwing ideas out there. Please, continue." I leaned back in the armchair, rubbing at my eyes. “So, like you said, now I’m stuck awake for all eternity unless I investigate this further.” Ryan scratched his head, scanning through the several pages of notes he had jotted down. I risked a glance at his face. His lips moved, mouthing different possibilities of potential solutions or mental calculations that one only learns when studying the psyche of a pony. I quickly looked away when his gaze returned to me, his face serious. “Well, there is one way.” Ryan mused. “However, I’m still studying it myself, so I’m not sure if it’ll work.” I stared at him expectantly. “What is it?” I asked. Ryan scratched at his head again. “It’s more of a theory, unfortunately. You see, to get a PHD, you need to write a two-hundred page paper on a study that you conduct. My theory was the abandoned attempts of Self-suggested time travel.” I shifted in my chair, eying Ryan dubiously. He held up a hoof. “Gimme a chance. Let me explain the physics. It’s basically a form of hypnotism that can allow the patient to transcend the time/space barrier. At least, not physically. Sound interesting?” My curiosity aroused, I nodded slowly. “Anyways, the way it would work is I hypnotize you, then put your brain into functional stasis." “You’re going to make me brain-dead?” I asked. “It just means your body won’t function, but will continue involuntary processes like breathing. Meanwhile, your conscious mind will settle into whatever your subconscious imagines for you. With a little bit of manipulation from me, I can get you to the desired time period, so long as you have stimulus to induce your subconscious to imagine it for you.” He continued. “Stimulus?” I asked. “A photo, period-appropriate clothing, etcetera." Ryan frowned at me suddenly. "I’ve been studying this method for quite some time now. It was abandoned awhile ago because several ponies died from ‘losing their consciousness’ to th nether, or received lobotomies because of severe brain trauma. I wanted to continue my research in the subject, and Bell seems to know more about this than anypony, so I chose him to study under while I write report. However… I’ve never been able to test it on anypony. Bell’s been sick with the Cutie Pox ever since I arrived a week ago, so I haven’t ever been able to ask him to hypnotize me. But…” Ryan put a thoughtful hoof to his chin. “I might be able to hypnotize you. However, you must realize that this is still a work in progress, and that you’ll be the first pony to do this in forty-two years.” He warned. I gulped audibly. Seeing my discomfort, Ryan tried again. “But, this may be your only ticket to seeing into Rainbow Dash’s memories; maybe even reliving them.” My eyes flashed with sudden determination. I guess it wouldn’t hurt. He’s been nothing but nice to me this far; the last thing he’d want to do is put me in harm’s way. I also would like to sleep again… “I’m in.”