Anterograde

by Archmage Ludicrous

Chapter 3

An awakening is never complete without recognition—that one moment when one takes stock of where one is, who they are, and feels the rush of memories pour into them as they begin to exist, once more. As I awoke, though, my being did not match my memories. I remembered walking down stairs, about to settle in for the night, Rainbow Dash's fluffy white sleeping bag near my smooth black one. Instead of the velvet interior of a sleeping bag, though, I felt an itchy, rough cushion below me, and my head was rested on its side, on top of a tough headrest quite unlike the feathers-in-silk pillow that accompanied my sleeping bag.

I peeled my eyes open. A tough blanket over me blocked out the bottom of my vision as it lay tucked far up onto me, and a wet cloth of some sort was upon my head, wrapped around my horn. Across the room, a small table with a couple bottles on it partially blocked out my view of a pair of stallions arguing by a door. A golden-furred pegasus with a dirty brown mane was in the hallway, pulling back as if trying to get out. The ashen-grey earth pony inside the room, though, had a hoof around the shorter pegasus' shoulder. The earth pony whispered urgently (and fairly loudly) to the other.

"...I'm tellin' yah! I had nothin' to do with it! I found 'er in the alleyway, she had that hood over there on, she had to be runnin' from somethin' so I took 'er here! No way I'd ever do that to a filly!"

"Bigs, you got a bad reputation, see?" The pegasus seemed to be trying to explain something. "C'mon, don't give me that look... 'snot that I don't trust you... I just... see, I just hear these things... and..."

"You know you can't trust that shit that people say about me!" The stallion called "Bigs" groaned. "Man, I thought I had you on my side, too."

"Fuck, Bigs, way to put a guy on the spot. Fine, fine, I'll keep this on the down-low. But don't expect me to be lying to the Guard!"

A sigh of relief from the larger pony. "Thanks, pal. I'mma figure this out, you watch." He released the pegasus, shaking his hoof as if to get ants off of it.

"Yeah, yeah." The pegasus backed out slowly. "Look buddy, I'm gonna do overtime at work today. If things are still fishy when I get back..."

"Don't sweat it, don't sweat it!" Bigs closed the door, and gave a deep breath outwards. He looked towards me, and his view naturally swung past afterwards. It turned back quickly, though, as he noticed something—probably my consciousness. "Holy shit..." he breathed, "You up?"

"Where... exactly am I?" I asked, slumping up. The rag on my head, the pounding inside it, and the confusion throughout all weighed me down, slowing my process of getting up.

"Careful there!" He trotted towards me at an alarming pace, causing me to shy backwards a bit into the couch. "You gotta nasty whack on your head, lady."

"I guess that would explain the headache, but it does nothing to explain how I got here."

"Well uhh... I found you, in one a' the alleyways outta the train station. You were stumblin' around, like you were runnin' from someone. Turns you got a crack on your head, real bad one too. I took yah here, it's real outta the way, so it's safe." The stallion peered down at me, locking my eyes in his. "Listen. You tell Bigs here who you're runnin' from, and I'll find the Guard to sic on their rear. I can keep you safe and outta the way 'till the thing blows over, too."

"Well... excuse me, Mr. Bigs—if I can call you that... I never entered any alleyway. Nor do I recall ever going to a train station. In fact, Ponyville doesn't have alleyways by the train station. I see no reason to trust you, unless you can give me a better explanation." I met his stare dead on, attempting to interpret his position. Bigs' eyes were cold, but passionate all at once. I decided to answer his stare with a frigid gaze of my own, in the hopes it would aid a more rapid exposition. I was confused and out of my element, which meant I couldn't afford to take chances, and that I couldn't possibly afford to not figure out what was going on.

Bigs squinted at me. "Ponyville? This ain't Ponyville. We're in Canterlot."

"I don't recall coming to Canterlot. Unless you care to explain how I got here..." I decided to lay down my worst-case scenario interpretation of the situation. From what I had seen it probably wasn't true, but irregardless, he deserved to know how I interpreted things. "I can only assume you took me here. I wake up in an unfamiliar place rather than the home where I was about to go to sleep. I can only come to one conclusion. From my point of view, you abducted me."

"Abducted... like, kidnapped, you mean?" Bigs' stare made a transformation into one of doubt and shock. "Wait..."

I watched as his expression changed completely. His eyes buggered out in fear, and his mouth split into a grimace.

"Wait! You don't seriously think that do you? You're pullin' my chain! You... you're tryin' to blackmail me!"

"No, I'm not." I shook my head, doing my best to remain calm. "I'm in exactly the position I described."

"Ah, shit. You were running from somethin', I know it! Look, your stuff is over there." He gestured to a hooded cloak and saddlebag which were both, in fact, mine. "Look, I'll do anything, anything so long as you don't be rash about this and blame me. Anything at all, I tell yah." He looked at me pleadingly.

"I'll trust you, for now. I won't be picky about who helps me figure out what's going on." I said, pulling off the scratchy blanket and coming to a stand. As my blood began to flow, my headache began to pick up a bit. "Ugh," I complained. "My head..."

"Oh, that's it!" Bigs exclaimed, briskly traveling to the head of the sofa. "That's prolly why you can't remember!"

"What is?"

"That massive lump on yer skull! Lemme fetch the mirror, I put the rag on it after I cleaned it, thought it might help." He rummaged through a small bag by the sofa.

I reached to the top of my head, pulling off the rag which I had long since stopped noticing. I winced as if stung when the wet fibers were removed from the area behind my horn. The damp rag was wet mostly with water, though the center had a small spot of blood, which I carefully avoided. The worn edges of the rag showed that it had gone through a significant lifetime of use and abuse, but it was nonetheless white and pristine aside from the red that had been left in the center. As I finished examining the rag, Bigs walked towards me, hoof extending a small hoof-mirror. I lowered my head to observe the source of the slight stinging pain. A swollen gash in my head revealed itself without much searching. Little bits of dried blood clung to the fur around it, but for the most part, the wound was clean, with bits of pink flesh showing where I was bleeding from.

"Head wounds're real bleeders. You had some kinda blood-blister of sorts in there when I got you here. I cleaned it up, so it's actually lookin' a lot better than it was a few hours ago. Anyhow, I thought—"

"Hours?" I interrupted him, looking up to catch his gaze. "How long have I been here? What time is it, when did I show up?" He set down the mirror on the table, and scratched his head, eyes drifting up to the ceiling.

"I'unno, must've been around seven or eight when I found ya... I don't have a clock, I keep track by the Canterlot Bell Tower, y'see? I do know it was before eight, an' after seven. So I suppose it was at least four hours you've been out, the noon bell rang a while ago."

"Have you looked through my stuff at all?" I asked, stepping over towards my equipage.

"No, 'course not!" proclaimed Bigs. "That'd be plain rude!"

I groaned.

"Looking for identification didn't even cross your mind?"

"Well uhmm..." Bigs looked towards the floor. "I guess not." Then he raised an eyebrow, casting a dubious gaze towards me. "Wait, wait, hold on. You ain't sayin' that you can't remember your name, are you? 'Cause I sure haven't heard you tell me it."

"No, I remember everything up to the night of the fourth just fine. It's there where it breaks up. My name's Twilight Sparkle. And yours is?" I extended my hoof in greeting, saying in addendum, "Come to think of it, what day is it today? I hope it's the fifth, if I'm missing even more context than a morning, that wouldn't be at all prime."

The giant stallion continued to stare at me dubiously. His eyes began to widen again, panic dripping into them as if from an invisible eyedropper full of road salt.

"Today is the fifth... Miss Sparkle." He said. "But the thing is, you already know my name."

It was my turn to gaze at him dubiously.

"No I don't! We just met in this apartment, and you talked about how I got here, and then you showed me the mirror and my stuff!" I reflected on what I remembered. The conversations were missing context, in places. "But... something was off."

"Shit!" He yelled. "You can't remember, I know you can't! Who could forget 'Bigs?' That's an easy name! Fuck, your memory's leakin' out like... like water, fucking water through a leaky bucket! Shit! The Guard, they'll think I did it! Fuck, you'll think I did it!" Bigs' eyes darted from side to side. "Everyone will think I did it! Stakes already thinks so! Miss House is a witness! Damnit, I'm screwed, I've been set up!"

"Are you done yet?" I asked, turning to haul my saddlebag onto the table. One of the bottles on the table swayed as the heavy bag landed. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I was already prone to panic in stressful situations, and my host's hyperventilation was not helping me in any description. "It seems pretty clear that I didn't lose memory, but am in the process of losing memory. If you follow, it means we need to stay calm, collected, and find something to write with."

"Yess'um." Bigs gulped out an affirmative after a raggedy sigh. "I, have some, uh, some writing stuff. Maybe. I'll go check." His hooves clapped against the tough planks of the floor, but I stopped him.

"Don't bother," I said, "I'm sure I had something with me. You'll be hard pressed to find me without something to write with, so a quick search of my bag should yield something..." I looked over the bag in question. A bright lime green pang of nostalgia reminded me of the nature of the bag—the "mystery bag" of my childhood, whose seemingly bottomless pockets must have factored into my decision to carry it.

The bag had two primary containers, in addition to a variety of sub-pockets. The first of these containers was the "sleeve" of the saddlebag. It was a large, unbuttoned lining accessible from the front of the saddlebag when worn, perfect for carrying long rectangular objects like writing boards and papers. I tilted the bag to an angle to spill the contents of the sleeve out, yielding three objects: my notebook, my pen (a change from the quills I usually used, but far more useful when traveling), and a piece of torn papyrus.

The papyrus jumped out at me the most, seeing as it was the item I was the least likely to carry with me. It was raggedy, and was torn from the bottom edge up to the center, a wide and messy gouge through it. There was writing on the paper, a thick and sloppy inking that showed resemblances to my own, but as if I were hurried when writing it. Across the top of the paper, the words "Anterograde Amnesia" were written, large and important.

"An-ter-o-grade amnesia?" Bigs sounded out the less familiar of the two words from over my shoulder, as he looked over my search of my equipment.

"Makes sense," I said, nodding. "I must have realized that I acquired it, so I set up a reminder, to reduce confusion for myself."

"Shit, lady, that's good to know, but it doesn't mean anything to me!"

"Anterograde amnesia is a type of amnesia that stops you from forming new memories. It's not more rare than other types of amnesia or anything, just a little less well known." I continued down the rough papyrus. An asterisk, written in my own style, preceded a reminder to "see hospital." The reminder was stricken through, though, with a thick black inking. A check mark followed the reminder, which in turn was followed by a warning: "NO MAGIC!" The warning was further underlined for emphasis. There was a little more written below that note, but I couldn't quite discern that through the torn and marred shreds. The most I could make out was "Do n—" on one end, and "—ol" on the other end.

I turned back to the stallion looking over my shoulder, struggling to recall his name.

"...Bigs."

"Yeah?" he said, attentive. A little silent wave of relief passed through my body. I had difficulty remembering names even on the best of days.

"I need your help. My amnesia will keep me from remembering things, but I can still help. I need you to stay patient, and keep me informed. If you do everything I say, I promise that we'll figure this out. For my sake, if not for yours." My calm demeanor helped his worrying, the clarity of my speech settling down the great grey behemoth, which relaxed me in turn. The pea-soup fog of tension began to give way to the gentle breeze of reason, and I felt as satisfied as any good rationalist should in my position. Bigs hesitated before nodding, but he still seemed much better for it.

"Yeah," he said, "I can do that. Whaddya need now?"

"I need to write down things. Everything, that is. It needs to be on paper, recorded, and I need your help to do it. I need you to tell me everything you know about this situation, from beginning to end."

I uncapped my pen and opened my notebook. Several papers were embedded in the front cover, which I took out to review later. The first page had some notes of some variety, which I tore out of the notebook, so that I would not forget to read them. Then, with a clean new page in front of me, I set the pen to the paper.

"All right, Bigs." I said, writing his name on the top of the page. "Tell me everything."

He took a deep breath before beginning.

Comments

[Toothpaste Cat]

So far this is pretty good!

[Misty Spell]

Isn't there a hospital in ponyville?

[Rhombicosidodecahedron]

6853352
They're in Canterlot.
And she still has to GET there.