The Road Less Traveled

by 32ndArtbomb

0x01 - Unexpected Detour

It was a beautiful Fall day. The leaves were turning colors, there was a chill on the vaguely incense-scented breeze that wasn't precisely out to get anyone, and the sun was blazing away in a vain attempt to warm the planet. In short, perfect weather for a bike ride down one of my favorite trails. Sure, my ultimate destination was the only place within fifty miles that still had the textbooks I needed, but that was no reason not to enjoy the ride.

Now, I’m a simple sort of person. I like my sandwiches to be a couple slices of meat between two pieces of bread instead of a salad you eat with your hands, I’d rather fix something instead of replace it, and my idea of a great night off is staying home to read a favorite book. It should come as no surprise, then, that I enjoy the simple pleasure of cycling down a tree-lined path on a gorgeous autumn day. It’s cheaper than going to a movie and better for me than sitting in front of a computer for hours on end... and there’s all kinds of nifty little specialty tools and equipment that go along with the hobby of cycling, too.

What? Is there something wrong with geeking out about a hobby?

Having said I’m a cyclist, you might be visualizing a traditional upright bicycle. Two wheels of equal size, a triangular frame that you can easily pick up and sling over one shoulder, and a wedge of a saddle that’s as likely to give you a colonoscopy as it is to support your ass on a long trek. Allow me to disabuse you of this notion.

I ride a recumbent bicycle. On a recumbent, you ride in an upright seated position and pedal forwards instead of down. It’s a lot more comfortable, especially for someone with extensive back problems like mine, and it lets me carry a small messenger bag’s worth of stuff in a bag on the back of the seat. Spare tubes for the front and rear tires, as well as the tools needed to change and re-inflate a tube on the side of the road, various safety lights, GPS-equipped bike computer, some chemical lightsticks, gloves, snacks… It’s reassuring to have everything I need for a field repair and then some on hand when I go for a day-long ride, y’know?

But, I’m rambling. It was a gorgeous Fall day, and I set out to go on a bike ride. I’m no professional cyclist or hardcore road-jockey, so I just threw on some jeans, a t-shirt and a light pullover. After that came the bike shoes - clipless pedals are magical, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise - and velcro straps around my ankles to keep my pants out of the chain, as well as sunglasses and the clip-on side mirror I use to compensate for my inability to turn and look behind me. Regular glasses went in their case, which then went into the seat-back bag I mentioned earlier, and I finally got around to getting on the freakin’ bike.

The path I intended to ride was about thirteen miles away by the route I took. Sure, the roadways were ill-maintained in some places, but it was worth it when I got there. Oh, how I enjoyed those four miles of peace, serenity, and not having to deal with cars. When I got to the end of the trail, I headed to the small library that had the books I needed. About twenty minutes later, having stopped for a quick bite to eat, I was back at the trailhead and rolling home.

Imagine my surprise when I spotted a construction crew on the trail ahead of me a few minutes later. Sure, a lot can happen in twenty minutes or so, but jeez. I didn’t think the path was that bad when I went over it.

Not wanting to pick my way past heavy equipment, or explain myself to the construction workers running said heavy equipment, I turned onto a side-trail. It was one I’d gone over before, a lovely packed-dirt path that ran alongside its paved cousin for a couple of miles before veering off towards a nearby four-lane road. It’d get me home, but it was a less-comfortable ride.

I’ll admit, I tend to zone out while I’m riding. I don’t pay as much attention as I should to the world around me, since I’m paying more attention to the world in front of me. I kept a sedate pace down the dirt path, but something felt off. I couldn't quite put my finger on what, not at first, but then my bike computer beeped at me. I glanced down at the device, which was sporting an error message I’d only seen while testing it indoors.

It wasn't receiving any GPS signals.

Now, I don’t know about you, but that worried me a bit. Either there’d been an unprecedented catastrophic failure of every GPS satellite in orbit, or my bike computer had just let out its magic smoke. I rolled to a stop, kicked a foot free of its pedal to balance with, and started poking at the device to try and get it functioning again. After spending a couple minutes fiddling around, everything seemed to be in order except the GPS tracking. I chalked it up to a hardware failure on my end, seeing as how the device was nearly old enough to drink, and turned it off. Not much I could do about it, though I was a bit bummed to see it go.

Before I shoved off, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I shook the feeling away and rolled on, filing it away as an errant afternoon breeze that’d managed to get under my ponytail. Barely a mile down the road, though? It came back, right as I rounded a corner to see something that no sane person would ever imagine was real.

Against all logic and reason, the path I was on opened up into a slim dirt road. This dirt road cut through a beautiful grassy meadow, leading the way to - and this is the bit that really hurt my head - someplace that looked exactly like Ponyville. You know, the fictional location in a cartoon.

I couldn't believe it. Such a place simply didn’t exist on the Earth that I knew. Logically, a tiny little voice of sanity lectured from the back of my mind, I was either stone dead and in heaven, or so goddamned high I was seeing things. The latter was likely - I’d smelled some pretty dank product while out on my bike rides before, after all - but so was the former.

Either way, I decided to roll with it. If I was high, I might as well enjoy it. If I was in the afterlife, same thing. I gave up on coasting down the slight incline I found myself on, and pedaled my way into town. Sure enough, there were ponies in abundance, and the sheer saturation of colors started lending credence to the idea that I was impossibly high instead of dead.

Then something flashed on my left, just outside my field of view, and it felt like I’d just caught a pillow that’d been shot out of a cannon with my ribs. I fought to keep my balance on reflex alone, even as that weight clung to my left side. There were noises coming from just behind me on that side too, reminding me of nothing less than a pissed-off cicada or cricket, but I tuned them out as I struggled to reestablish a line and come to a controlled stop.

My efforts were thwarted by a second impact from the same side, and this time I felt something tangling itself up in my legs. I hauled back on both brake levers as I kicked my feet out of the pedals, but I couldn't put my feet down. A glance down from the oncoming road told me that everything from my knees down had been splattered in what could only be described as goo, which was clinging tenaciously to my calves and to my bike. It reminded me of nothing less than how “loogie gun” projectiles were described in Snow Crash - thick, sticky, stringy, and nearly impossible to dislodge.

The little voice of sanity in my head decided that now was a good time for a vacation.

My forward momentum finally gave out on me and, after a brief and ultimately futile struggle, gravity took hold. I landed heavily on my right side and started trying to get to my feet. This was made rather difficult by the goop that’d glued my torso to the seat, not to mention the sticky mess that’d tangled itself up with my legs and bike. A third glob came sailing in from out of view to splatter across my right arm, plastering it against the dirt and ensuring I wasn't going anywhere.

This didn't mean I couldn't struggle, and I certainly did, but nothing came of it. I was tangentially aware of a crowd forming around me as I tried to comprehend what the hell had happened, but my train of thought was derailed when a purple alicorn stepped out of the crowd and met my gaze. I think they were trying to talk to me - its mouth was moving, and sounds were coming out, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. All I could hear were a series of variations on the classic whinny and neigh, and that didn't mean anything to me.

“Look, uh. You’re clearly trying to talk to me, but I have no idea…”

My subconscious, which had been busily rummaging through my sanity’s desk in its absence, tapped me on the shoulder to inform me that I was probably in Equestria, and that I was probably looking at Princess Twilight Sparkle. Oh, and it added that if I didn't understand their language? They probably wouldn't understand mine, and I had just frightened a lot of ponies with my sudden appearance.

My eyes very nearly bugged out of my skull, and I renewed my efforts to free myself from the goop I’d been entangled with. My right arm nearly came free, prickling as patches of hair were pulled out by the roots, and I almost had my legs free when the alicorn’s horn lit up. A tingle passed over my scalp, as if I’d just dunked my head in a bucket of dandruff shampoo, and I froze as a familiar voice met my ears.

“I can’t believe I didn't think of trying a comprehension spell sooner. Hello?” Oh sweet Jesus, she sounded just like the voice actress in the show. “Can you understand me?”

I swallowed. My heart was pounding in my ears. This was the worst trip ever. But, I still answered. Maybe playing along would get it over with faster. “Yes..?”

“Oh good, that means we can skip right to introducing ourselves!” I had no idea an equine face could smile until that moment. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, what’s your name?”

“I’m…” Fictional paranoia became real, and bits of old fae lore concerning the power of true names bubbled up in my mind. So, I went with the nickname I’d had for decades. “You can call me Steve.”

She repeated the name a few times and, while I could ‘hear’ her saying it properly, I could tell the sounds coming from her mouth weren’t remotely similar. Her smile got a bit wider and her horn flickered, glowing with an inner light. “An interesting name. Certainly not Equestrian, that’s for sure.” The goop binding me up disappeared. I think my mouth hung open. “Well, since you don’t seem to be anything other than lost, would you like to tell me how you came to be here over tea?”

Another voice piped up, somewhat rough and buzzing around the edges. “Princess, are you sure this is wise? We know nothing of this creature. It should be detained for the safety of the town, not treated as a guest.”

I twisted as best I could to look at the source, and discovered a changeling hovering not three feet away from me. I think I screamed. In my defense, the real thing is far more disturbing than the cartoon version. I certainly scrambled away from it, only to bump into Twilight’s legs in my heedless rush to get away. I probably screamed again. Then, mercifully, I passed out.

Author's Note:

IT BEGINS