Guardian of Forever (And Equestria Too, I Guess)

by Akouma

1: A Really, Really Bad Day

The Clockstopper laughed as a laser bounced off his chest and fizzled into nothingness. “I can’t believe, after all this time, I finally get to see the inside of this control chamber!” he roared over the alarms blaring in the background. The assembled Geniuses could only watch in horror as he began to reach his hand towards the biggest, reddest button he could find. Time almost seemed to slow as the button went deeper into the hole it rested in, and as a faint click resounded through the room, time seemed to almost stop altogether. In fact, a trained observer could have noted that it most certainly did stop. That was the function of the device, after all.

The last thing Mason remembered before the black set in was how weird it felt being both frozen in time and simultaneously being sucked out into space.

---

When Mason came to, everything hurt. His hands were stiff and wouldn’t unclench. There was a strange electric buzzing behind his eyes.[1]
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[1]TRANSLATOR ACTIVATED.

Well, that explained that.

His head felt like it had been squished. His spine wouldn’t straighten, so he couldn’t properly stand. The disorientation was really getting to him, because every body part felt like it was in just slightly the wrong place. He faintly heard someone talking nearby, and his ears swiveled towards…

That wasn’t right. Ears didn’t swivel. Well, not without some particularly unnecessary bits of modding they didn’t. His eyes snapped open, and he groaned. It wasn’t that he was stiff or in too much pain to move. It was that his body had been drastically reassembled to that of a completely different species. He really hated assignments like these, but they were thankfully rare.

Wait, there was no assignment. He’d been at the Guardians’ “Entirely Secular Soltice Event” party (or just “the essep” as they usually called it) when the alarms for a priority zero breach had gone off. The entire base had rushed to their defensive stations, which is when Mason had caught sight of the Clockstopper. Some kind of mutant strain of them, too, based on the havoc he’d been causing. The fighting went all the way to Command, where the lunatic did… something. Mason would have to get back to that point. Big red buttons were involved, so that probably had something to do with how he had ended up wherever here was.

Which led back to the most annoying thing: Mason wasn’t human anymore. Equine, if his new hooves were any indication. And by the look of the very equine creature talking at him. The Guardians’ tech automatically converted you to the right species on insertion, so this was hardly the first time he’d been something other than human. Not having any fine manipulators was going to be a pain though. No hands, no talons, no weird stringy appendages that were a fetishist’s dream. Just hooves.

“...Going to say anything? Oh Celestia,[2] you’re a Termineightor,[3] aren’t you?” Mason focused on the translator for a moment, then he realized what the creature was actually saying.
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[2]Appears to be used as a form of supernatural swearing. Likely the name of a deity or other figure of worship.
[3]Yes, the “neigh” sound in the middle is absolutely how they intended to say that.

“Oh, sorry. Just kind of disoriented at the moment,” he said, trying his best not to sound like a killer robot in disguise. Which was difficult when the words that were coming out of Mason’s own mouth sounded unfamiliar and strange, distracting him and making him talk slower than he normally would. “Speaking of, would you happen to know where I am, uh[4], Mister…”
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[4]He’s a guy.

“It’s Sprocket. And you’re in Baltimare park.” The unnaturally green horse[5] in front of Mason appeared to look him up and down, making some kind of expression, but Mason wasn’t sure what it meant. “You uh, you need to see a doctor or something? You don’t look so great. Or a magic specialist? Ponies[6] don’t normally appear out of thin air, unconscious, and beat to Tartarus[7] like that.”
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[5]The proportions would indicate a pony, actually.
[6]Ha! Told you! Also it would appear they use that in place of the word “people.”
[7]You can probably guess this one, but that’s hell.

It was then that Mason once again realized how much his... everything hurt. “Yeah, I think I may want both. Could you point me in the right direction?”

Sprocket looked shocked. “You’re not planning on walking, are you? In your state, you’ll pass out again on the way there! Let’s get you a cab. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Mason Smith,” he replied.

“Mason Smith, eh?” Sprocket said as he hefted Mason onto his back. At this point, Mason came to the jarring realization that this pony seemed to have wings, if the feathers tickling his stomach were any indication. “Explains the cutie mark[8] I suppose. Don’t see a lot of unicorns[9] in blacksmithing though. What’s that like?”
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[8]That’s what he said literally, but it also seems to roughly translate as “symbol of purpose” or something. Sounds like the kind of thing where you’ll look crazy if you ask for an explanation.
[9]Congratulations, Mason. You’re apparently a unicorn. Aren’t you special?

Mason thought about that a moment before responding. “It’s uh, not so different than anypony else doing it.”

“No? Figured it would be,” Sprocket said cheerily, looking back over his shoulder at Mason. That was apparently Sprocket’s fill of conversation for the moment, as he didn’t say much of anything until he had managed to hail a cab.

As the two got in, Sprocket did the talking. “We need to get to Baltimare General, please.”

The pony pulling the cab gave a response that was somewhere between a grunt and a “sure,” and with that the two were off.

---

Going to the hospital had been a mistake. Not a huge mistake, but definitely somewhere in that week’s top ten if he were to measure them purely by the level of frustration caused.

It had started well enough. Sprocket explained where he’d found Mason. Mason explained as vaguely as possible how he’d gotten hurt. The doctor said she wanted to run some additional tests that she said were standard after a “magic-based accident.” And apparently those included an X-ray, which to the surprise of everyone but Mason yielded some unpleasant results.

“Mr. Smith,” the doctor began, “I’m afraid I have some bad news. I think you may have exited the teleport partially coinciding with solid matter, as we found this in the X-ray.” She clipped the sheet displaying the problem onto the lightbox, and Mason recognized the shape of a head in profile. A pointer next to the table began to glow a pale shade of red as the doctor picked it up, using it to indicate a dark patch near the center of where the brain would be. “Frankly, Mr. Smith, it’s a wonder you’re alive given that you have a shard of metal in your brain.”[10]
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[10]Hey! I take offense to that! I am a computer smaller than your eyeball capable of interpreting and translating language with a sample size of next to nothing, AND I can take direct control of a person’s relevant muscles to speak for them in another language! I am a miracle of ingenuity, not just some “shard of metal,” thank you very much! And besides, I am at least forty percent plastics!

“I see. But besides that I’m fine, right?” Mason asked, unmoved by the doctor’s distress.

The doctor blinked a few times and shook her head before replying. “Besides that? Mr. Smith, there is a chunk of metal in your brain. This could kill you at any moment.[11] We need to do something.”[12]
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[11]I mean I guess I could make you bite off your own tongue. If you don’t seek medical attention that would probably kill you from blood loss. I don’t know if that really counts as “any moment.”
[12]Guess who won’t have a tongue anymore if you agree with her.

“I’m really fine,” Mason insisted, holding up a hoof to forestall any objections. “I’m serious. This is a known issue, it didn’t just appear there, it’s been there quite a while, and I am one hundred percent fine. It was determined when it got there that any attempt to remove it would do more harm than its presence currently does. Please, can we just move on?”

The doctor took a deep breath, then sighed. “I suppose I can’t force you to seek treatment for this. But I will strongly recommend it.[13] Besides that, it’s mostly just bruises and cuts. A couple would have likely become infected, but we took care of that. Come back and see us in a few days if anything still hurts as much as it does now. Are you still going to see a magic specialist today?”
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[13]I strongly recommend keeping your tongue, but your call I guess.

“Um… yes?”

“Then I’ll make sure he gets these results. When he tells you to get that hunk of metal removed, feel free to change your mind. Do you have a magic specialist you see normally, or will you need assistance finding one?”

---

The magic specialist, as it turned out, wasn’t some guy in wizard’s robes in a tower miles away from town. He had a surprisingly legitimate looking office a few blocks away from the hospital, filled with various glowing… things. Mason was fairly certain they didn’t do anything. After all, it would be irresponsible to put magical artifacts in easy reach of any random stranger coming in for a consultation. But they sure did glow.

The specialist’s horn lit up for what must have been the twelfth time, which Mason supposed was probably him casting another “spell.” He wasn’t sure how a Mage could keep casting like that, obviously producing an effect, without a Paradox or ten causing him to explode, but maybe he was just exceptionally powerful. After a long while of looking at a pile of notes he’d been taking during and after each casting, the specialist spoke.

“Mr. Smith, how long have you had that bit of metal inside your head?” He asked with a concerned look on his face.

“Oh, a few years now.”

The Mage seemed shocked at this news. “You’ve been living with that thing stuck in your thaumic nerve[14] for years? I know you told the hospital that it’s likely to do more harm than good on removal, but I’m not so sure. Your aura isn’t even recognizable as a unicorn! Have you been able to cast even a basic levitation spell since this happened? How did it even get there?”
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[14]Don’t know much about magic, but I’d wager that a “thaumic nerve” is something all the ones with horns have. Maybe it’s not even actual magic. Maybe they’re psychic or something.

Mason sighed. He’d been hoping not to have to explain quite as much as he was about to in order to get some answers, but sometimes the fastest way to get what he wanted was also the way that made him look like a lunatic. Really, that’s the story of most Geniuses’ lives.

“I haven’t been able to cast a basic levitation spell ever, doc.” Another cringe from the Mage. “And it got there because it was deliberately placed there. With consent.” Another. He was clearly about to begin speaking, but Mason kept on going. “It’s a translator device. It uses[15] quantum detectors tuned to pick up thought waves[16] to determine what I’m hearing, then uses context and common linguistic trends to parse it so I can understand it.[17] It uses the same quantum detectors to figure out what I want to say in return, translates it back into the language it’s receiving input from, then uses its connection with my brain to manipulate my mouth into the sounds needed.[18] In other words, if I didn’t have that device inside of me right now - Chip, take a ten second break for me[19]…” Mason took a deep breath as he felt himself regain full control of his mouth for the first time all day. “I would sound like this."
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[15]Stop explaining. You know what’ll happen.
[16]You’re only going to make this worse. It’s obvious he thinks that sounds ridiculous. His eyes are starting to glaze.
[17]You know that I shouldn’t be capable of doing that. No legitimate science that actually exists could do that. There’s the “I’m smiling to make you comfortable because you’re unstable and I’m afraid for my safety” smile.
[18]Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand you just told him that I’m capable of controlling your body. You realize for him that’s cause for alarm whether he thinks you’re lying or not?
[19]Oh good, I get to stop spewing your stupidity for a whole ten seconds. This isn’t going to help, you know.

It was strange, hearing spoken English coming out of a mouth clearly not designed for it. It was hard to distinguish where one word ended and another began, because it all sort of ran together. But for the first time since he’d arrived, Mason was hearing speech that wasn’t comprised of nickers, whinnies, snorts, and other sounds he would normally classify as just noise. He couldn’t help but smile even as the effect on the Mage took hold. It occurred to Mason that he should probably elaborate a little better, since his cards were on the table anyway.

Mason tapped the side of his head. “Chip, back on please.[20] Ugh. Yes, you do have to.[21] That immediate instinct to not believe me is called Jabir. Tell me,” Mason said as he leaned forward towards the pony in front of him. “Do you have science fiction stories around here?”
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[20]Do I have to?
[21]Fine.

“Well yes, of course. I fail to see wh-”

“And are you the sort of pony that enjoys them?” Mason had gotten so close now, they were almost nose to nose.

The doctor scooched back in his chair before replying, a strained look on his face. “I, um, well I’ve never really cared much for them. Always seemed to me if you were going to have a story with that kind of fantastical technology, you could just set it in the real world with a capable unicorn instead. After all, any sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from science.[22] Could you maybe back up a bit?” Mason did not. He was starting to feel the rush of Mania coming in, and he definitely wasn’t going to stop before he got some more.
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[22]Listen, we’re both offended. Just move on.

“You see, what if I told you that there’s a grain of truth behind the fiction there? Short version since you’re clearly getting a little weirded out: I’m a very mad scientist, and I’m a long way from home. When I got out of bed this morning, I didn’t even have a ‘thaumic nerve.’ Or hooves. Or a horn. Or a tail. Or even a body that remotely resembles the one you’re looking at in any capacity. Before I came here, a guy had just destroyed the base of operations for my organization, possibly killing everyone[23] I know and leaving me stranded. I am having a very, very bad day. And if another pony tells me that my only lifeline in this world[24] is a detriment to my health, I don’t give a[25]… My translator is telling me the word is ‘buck.’”
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[23]Not that I think your or him care at the moment, but that should’ve been “everypony.”
[24]Love you too, you absolute lunatic.
[25]Hold on there buddy, the word they would understand in this context is “buck.”

Mason hadn’t realized he had placed his hooves on the wall and caged in the doctor until the high of Mania left his system. Realizing he’d let the crazier aspects of being a Genius take over, he went back over to his chair, sat down, and cleared his throat in embarrassment.

The doctor, still stunned, straightened his tie, did a gesture with his hooves that Mason assumed was the equivalent of a human steepling their fingers, then began speaking in a shaky voice. “You, Mr. Smith, are definitely either in need of a psychiatrist, or the Princesses.”

Mason laughed a full, deep laugh. “Well doc, if you could get me an appointment with whichever one is likely to be well versed in dimensional theory, I’d be most appreciative.”

What Mason most certainly did not expect was to actually receive an appointment. What confused him more is that apparently the royalty around here were well versed in dimensional theory.

Comments

[SirNotAppearingInThisFic]

[12]Guess who won’t have a tongue anymore if you agree with her.

I do appreciate this level of snark.