• Published 21st Mar 2015
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The Equestria Diaries - Istaran



Twelve humans enter Equestria to play a "Survival Game". Will anything survive?

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Chapter 10: Frank and beans

To Frank, the most important rule of avoiding being followed was to take a circuitous route. Want to go north, to Canterlot, for example? Start by leaving town on the south road. That way only those actually dedicated to following you will succeed, and you are likely to make them waste time figuring out your ploy.

If that was rule #1, rule #0 ought to have been 'Don't carry around a transmitter that periodically announces your position and activities to the exact person you most want to avoid being followed by.' And yet, the fractal spider 'Deus Jr.' sat comfortably in his backpack doing just that as he climbed the steep mountain trail to the land's capital. The backpack itself was a bit awkwardly designed. While Rarity had Frank's original clothing as a template to gain a quick understanding of how human clothes were supposed to fit together, she hadn't had a backpack to use as a model. So she had done her best to combine Frank's vague description of the concept with her own familiarity with saddlebags. The result was something that technically worked, but had its storage divided into two separate main bags, one on the left and the other on the right, bending around toward Frank's sides much more so than a human-made backpack would have. Still, his scant possessions fit into it well enough, including the purloined robot.

Frank wore a strained, faked smile as he passed by ponies going in the other direction, easily earning more sincere smiles in return. The vertical climb up into the lower reaches of the city was a challenging one, but Frank had been physically fit before coming to Equestria, where the absence of many modern conveniences had only made him more lean. He was a bit out of breath when he reached the guard checkpoint, expecting more of a challenge to enter the capital, but the guard merely waved him on in with a smile.

As he strolled the streets, Frank checked his phone. The app no longer showed his quarry's direction, but merely '<Less than 1 km>'. The final bit of searching was going to have to be done the hard way. Or perhaps just the friendly way. To his surprise, simply asking the first random pony he happened across on the street got him directions directly to the other human's whereabouts.

The reason for this soon became apparent. Frank found a spot across the street to observe while trying to go unnoticed. While he stood out like a sore thumb in a city of ponies, the other man was completely oblivious to his presence, too preoccupied with his work, such as it was. The other man was a horribly unkempt man, with a massive, unruly beard and expanse of hair, both bright red, both straining against the bonds of hair nets. He was an older man, and aside from the vibrancy of his hair color, age had not been kind to him. He was visible within the kitchen of a dining establishment informatively entitled 'Soups', and he seemed to be fulfilling the name's promise by pouring bowl after bowl of soup from a can before providing them to an earth pony waiter for distribution. Curiously, the can of soup in question never ran out despite filling dozens of bowls, each at least as large as the can. It also seemed to produce several varieties of soups, though a particular soup sporting a variety of beans seemed to be the most popular at the moment.

Whenever there was a lull in the orders to fulfill, the man strolled to a back door, can in hand, and stepped outside for a few minutes. After the third or fourth such visit, Frank got curious and moved to get a look. He half expected to catch the man indulging in a smoking break or the like. However, when he got to where he could peek around a corner into the back alley, he found a number of dirty, disheveled looking ponies, including a disturbing number of children. They looked like they didn't have two bits to rub together between the lot of them. And there, behind the restaurant that was doing brisk business, the man in the hairnets poured out more soup, into bowls that were obviously quite overdo for a proper scrubbing.

Frank palmed his knife and began filling himself with memories of his wife and child. He recognized the other man now, vaguely. Some hobo who rode the bus every now and then, surely abusing the taxpayers' dollars. He tried to fill his mind with every disparaging lie he could come up with about the man, every reason why he was more worthy to win the game. He convinced himself that if the other man had spotted him first, he would surely do the same.

He forced a fake smile as he approached the man from behind, in hopes of keeping any ponies that looked up from realizing anything was amiss. He strolled forward as evenly and silently as he could, the din of dining ponies easily masking the sounds of his footfalls. He was nearly within striking distance, a bit of sweat rolling down the length of his blade, over the crimson scab of dried blood, when he was interrupted.

Both of their cell phones vibrated at once. Frank froze, expecting to be discovered by the second buzz, but the other man didn't seem to have noticed. He pulled out his own phone and looked at the update. "Aww, man. We lost another one," he said sadly. The nearest ponies reached up to comfort him as best they could while others offered their condolences. Frank dropped his knife.

The clatter brought eyes to him, and the other man's face lit up to see him. "Oh, hey! Someone else finally made it here! Come here, come in! Are you hungry? I can get you some soup, on the house!" Frank was in a daze as he was ushered in, given a seat, and before long a steaming hot bowl of hearty bean chili. "My name is Scott, by the way. I'm glad we could finally meet. I'm in the middle of my shift right now, but if you can stick around until closing I'd love to talk more."

"Frank," Frank managed to reply, but was otherwise too busy reeling to say much. He ate the chili, half hoping it was poisoned somehow so that he could die with his freshly-shattered worldview restored. But instead it was delicious and nutritious, invigorating his body as it crushed his soul with guilt. Here he was, a cold blooded murderer being treated as a welcome friend by his intended next victim. He just couldn't any more. He just couldn't.

The hours passed quickly as Frank sat quietly, eating three servings altogether. He had plenty of time to say goodbye to his hope of ever seeing his family again. Faced with someone who so clearly mourned the loss of his opposition, Frank couldn't muster the will to be the cold blooded killer he needed to be to win. Perhaps it was for the best. His family didn't really need to get a murderer back in place of their husband and father.

As the last customers left, the pony waiter clicked the door lock with his teeth and joined Scott and Frank at the table, along with an evening meal for the two workers. The hairnets finally came off, showing just how unreasonably unruly Scott's hair could truly be. The pony had a bowl of minestrone before him, while Scott had a classic chicken noodle.

"This can is amazing," Scott beamed showing off the label-less, nondescript soup can. "I asked for a can of soup that never runs out and is always ready to eat. I figured, strange new land, better make sure I have something to eat and keep me hydrated. Never would have guessed it could do different kind of soups too. I would have been happy with just one, any one really."

"That's true, though I don't think the restaurant would have worked out with only a single kind of soup. Even down here in the lower reaches," his pony companion countered. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Welcome Smile," he flashed his namesake at Frank, "you already met my partner Scott. What was your name?"

"I'm Frank. Thanks for your hospitality. I don't really think I deserve it, but.. I'll do my best to repay you. I have a few bits.." Welcome waved them off quickly.

"You sound really bummed, man," Scott cut in. "Did you know her?"

"Know who?" Frank said, blinking.

"Rebecca. The one who died today. Same last name as that Robert fellow.. I wonder if it was the mother and son from the front of the bus or the father and daughter from the back."

Frank shook his head. "No, I didn't know anyone else on the bus, really. I admit I didn't really pay any attention to my fellow riders. Did you?"

Scott shrugged. "I try to do everyone the courtesy of noticing, but most don't care to talk to a dirty old man. Perhaps afraid I'm a 'dirty' old man, or something. But you know, now that we're here we really ought to all get to know each other, right? I mean, the ponies are great, but they're like, a whole other civilization, you know? And like that saying goes.. no man is an island.. each man's loss diminishes me, and all that. Women too, doubly even. And children. Triple for little girls, you know?"

Frank fidgeted under the pure innocence of the dirty old man. "So... what do you think we need to do to, uh, you know.. win?" he asked hesitantly.

Scott grinned and gestured to the shop around them. "I can't speak for you, but I am winning, man. I was able to revitalize Welcome's shop here, help some ponies who are as needy as I used to be, and have enough bits left over to live comfortably. What more could you want?"

Frank frowned. "I want to go home. To my wife and son."

Scott sobered sharply. "Oh, man. I feel you. My wife left me a long time ago, so they won't even notice I'm missing. I hope they'll be okay till you find a way back."

The spider, Deus Jr, took that opportunity to climb out of Frank's backpack and out onto the table. Welcome Smile jumped back from the thing, while Scott just got wide eyed with amazement and Frank frowned. Ignoring them, the spider began carving something quickly into the table with a few of its limbs, finally stopping when it had reproduced the QR code from Twilight's laboratory.

"It's one of those funky barcode thingies," Scott said. "Wonder what it's for.." he reached out to try petting the spider, getting no response from the robot.

Frank took out his phone and snapped a picture of it, looking confused as the grid popped up with Magic in place, the activation button disabled. "That's weird. Six spots.. I don't suppose you know where any more of these codes are."

"Oh, well there's one in the alley were I first popped up. Found it carved into the cornerstone of the courthouse building. Maybe we should go snap a pic of that one too?"

"It's as good an objective as any," Frank answered, as he scooped the little Deus Ex Machina into his backpack.

"Nice choice of item, by the way. Not as good as an endless can of soup, but it's definitely neat," Scott complimented. Frank declined to answer.