The Element of the Island

by computerneek

Chapter 6: Accelerated Awakening

I dreamt of a crown. A golden crown, with a beautiful, golden yellow jewel displayed proudly right in the middle, just behind my horn.

I stood, staring at it in a mirror, for about fifteen minutes.

That was the entire dream.

I don’t know why.

Maybe I’d understand if I found the crown, wore it in reality.

It wasn’t the only dream I had, but it was the most confusing one.

The rest were more active.

In one, I counted, starting at zero, onwards. I wrote each number in sequence on an infinite strip of parchment that was slowly sliding past, sounded them out while I was at it. When I reached two hundred, I started counting by hundreds.

Then by thousands.

Ten thousands.

And so on. I think I reached a few quintillion- a lot of zeroes- by the time the dream ended.

In another, there was a clock. It wasn’t ticking; I was pushing the minute hand in circles, stopping in five-minute increments to tell the time, starting with midnight.

After a couple revolutions of the hour hand, I finished with midnight again- then the clock face split open and a little bird jumped out.

Cuck-koo!

It disappeared back in, but I woke up before it could come back.

We must have moved in our sleep. We’re hugging up against each other.

I lean back slightly, to get a view of her face.

She’s… Yep, she’s still in a deep sleep. Her gentle smile looks genuine, though; exactly as I figured, we both enjoyed sleeping together.

But a morning is a morning, and there is exploring to do.

I still have to figure out what an orphanage is, beyond someplace we and lots of others our age can sleep, after all- and I’d rather not wake her up if I don’t have to. I slip carefully out of her grip, precisely adjust the covers, and slip out of bed. The first traces of sunlight are just coming in the window, so it’s not in the middle of the night; as a matter of fact, judging by how the light in that dream with the clock changed when I moved the hands, it’s about five thirty in the morning.

I make my way quietly out of the room, closing the door behind me.

Then I look both ways down the passage. Nothing draws my attention, so I figure I’ll just start with the entrance and go from there, and set off.

A clock mounted on the wall in the next hallway informs me it’s actually five twenty five in the morning.

Meh, close enough.

I find the entranceway.

I start my search.

I find a lounge.

I find a dining room- though ‘mess hall’ fits it better. There’s lots and lots of chairs on either side of two long tables.

I find a… I’m not sure what it’s called. The carpet is too thick for my liking, the colors too bright- and there are toys everywhere. I move on.

I find an auditorium.

I find a music studio. There’s several instruments staged around it, most with little white labels stuck to them. The instrument that grey filly gave me yesterday is among them.

I smile; I really enjoyed playing last night. Even though I did it explicitly to get everypony to fall asleep.

I wander back over to that instrument, pick up the stick that goes with it. Put it to the instrument.

And put it back down. My goal is not to wake anypony up, nor put them to sleep- just to enjoy the music. This instrument has a deep voice, excellent for both of the above… but not for just leaving them be.

So I navigate the room, plucking at the occasional instrument. There’s a few that are air-based; somehow, I know those can be very loud, so I don’t even try them. The stringed ones I test, though.

There’s one that looks similar to the one she gave me, though it has more strings and no long stick. It also seems to be designed to hang off my shoulders while I play, rather than resting on the ground.

Its voice isn’t as deep, but it is… electrifying, I believe. Another nice instrument, but it’ll also be great for waking everypony up. So I move on.

Then I find another one. It’s shaped somewhat like the bottom of my hoof, tip down, but much larger. It’s got hundreds of strings, suspended vertically in that space. It’s also gold-colored, like that crown I dreamt of.

I pluck a string.

It has a nice, gentle voice. I could easily use it to put ponies to sleep, but it’s just strong enough it’s not hard to avoid doing that. It won’t be accidentally waking ponies up, either.

So I position myself, pluck a few more strings. Close my eyes, get a feel for it, and… play.

It’s what I did last night. It’s what I’m doing now.

What comes out is music. I neither know nor care where it’s coming from.

Before long, I start singing along with my song.

Songs. Even when one song ends, I just keep going, blend into the next. I could do this all day.

I ignore the growling of my stomach. I can deal with it later.

Once she wakes up.

Something tingles on my flanks. It goes away when I twitch my rump, so I don’t worry about it.

Nothing matters, really, until she wakes up.

Correction: There is something that matters before she wakes up. I notice when some of the adults walk in, one at a time. I don’t stop playing; they don’t try to stop me, so I have no reason to.

Seeing them sip from their cups in sequential order, though, is amusing.

After a song or so, they leave. I continue playing.

As I play, I hear them opening doors. Waking ponies up.

Lots of them seem to be complaining. Some are having difficulty waking up.

They’re going through the rooms methodically, waking up every little filly and colt. Which includes my friend, Bonbon. That’s the name she put on the paperwork last night.

The adults seem agitated somehow. I don’t know what it’s all about; Bonbon is still sound asleep.

I catch a mention of the time- sounds just like it did in that dream- followed immediately by an almost-yelp from another.

Are they trying to wake everypony up?

I… I think they are.

I’m at the end of this song anyways. I let it finish, and abandon the instrument. Return to the one I used last night. Lift the stick thing, put it to the instrument.

I start out gentle, basically just vibrating against the instrument on a low note as I get a feel for it once again.

Then I change notes, and go on it harder.

It’s music.

Seconds after I hit the first stronger note, I feel a tremor through the building as many, many small hooves hit the ground, leaping from their beds.

It worked; I woke them up.

I hear several doors open simultaneously- and every one of them, including the groggy ones headed to the mess hall, make the same utteration.

I don’t understand it- and Bonbon hasn’t elected to join them in their orations. No; she seems to have been somewhat slower on the uptake, before heading… No, not to the mess hall. I think she’s tracing the music back to me.

I lose track of her hoofbeats in the noise. One of the adults quickly positions themself in front of the door, blocking the young ones from entering- and saying something I don’t understand to them. Whatever she’s saying seems unpopular, as many colts and fillies make disappointed noises and detour towards the mess hall.

She lets Bonbon through, when she arrives during a quiet part of the song.

She doesn’t interrupt, just sits and watches. So I don’t interrupt the song.

I don’t immediately start another when it finishes, though. Instead, I smile at her. “How’d I do?”

“You… You’re amazing,” she states.

I smile. “Thanks. Um, what’s going on, over there?”

She looks back at the door, where I gestured. “Oh- everypony else has to go get ready for school. Since we arrived so late last night, we’ve got an entire day to get settled in before we start.”

“School?”

“It’s… where we go to learn things. Most- possibly all- will be redundant for me… and you won’t even be able to understand the teacher.” She smiles. “It’s going to be an interesting challenge.”

I shrug. “Not really- you could just translate until I figure out how to understand it directly.”

She chuckles. “Sure, that’ll work for the classes we both have- the basics, like math and Equestrian- but when I go to farming classes and you go instead to magic kindergarten, that’s when things will get interesting.”

“Uh… I’ll figure it out. I can still understand nonverbal communication just fine.” I let out a giggle. “You should have seen the adults this morning. They came in to sip their tea sequentially while I played over there.”

“Sequentially? Like, they all came in, then sipped their tea in order, before they all left?”

“Yep. Though, they did sip several times while they watched for a few minutes. It was almost like somepony was making waves in the fabric of spaceteacup every few seconds.”

I blink. “The fabric of… what?”

“You know, like the fabric of spacetime?”

“Uh…”

“Same here. I’ll probably have to go retrieve my memories before I can explain it.”

“Something tells me you’re going to ace math.”

Smile. “It’s possible.”

“Oh- speaking of memories, anything come up?”

Shake. “I dreamed I was staring at a crown in a mirror.”

“... Strange.”

“It was a pretty crown.”

She bursts out laughing, and I join her.

Then one of the adults comes in, and says something.

“Uh, she says, ‘if you’re finished playing, would you like some breakfast’?”

My stomach growls once again, and I only smile.

Breakfast was delicious. All the other colts and fillies had already finished by the time we went in; Bonbon helped chase them all out the door, on their way to ‘school’. Apparently, they really want to meet us; she had to promise we’d still be here when they get back to get them to actually go.

So now, we begin the process of “settling in”, as she calls it.

Which, for me, consists of watching the adult flap her lips incomprehensibly at us and listening to Bonbon repeating it back to me. And understanding what our responsibilities will be.

Basically, clean up after ourselves. A task so basic it almost feels like I’ve been doing it for years.

Later, when I mention this to Bonbon, she smirks knowingly and nods. “You probably have.”

So, while she spends much of her time going over some papers she got from I neither know nor care where, I go back to that golden instrument and resume playing.

She talks to herself a lot as she flips through the pages. I don’t interrupt my music for it, but I listen to it anyways.

I think she’s trying to decide who to have adopt us.

… It sounds a little weird. The staff explained earlier, and she translated, the adoption process: Prospective foster parents come here to the orphanage, sometimes with their own young, to interview and, ideally, select a foal or two to adopt.

So it seems a little weird Bonbon is trying to decide who will adopt us. Almost like it’s our choice, rather than theirs.

I smile to myself, listening to her mutterings. Build myself an understanding of who the options are.

Who knows, it could help. Even if one of the ones she doesn’t prefer chooses to adopt us.

---

The following morning. I wake up to the cello again; I have no idea how she’s slipping away without waking me up. Especially since she confessed that, both nights, we were in a tight embrace when she awoke.

And it took her less than five seconds, on either day, to get out of bed without awakening me.

Despite my extremely sensitive sense of touch.

She’s amazing with that cello.

And the lyre she seems to favor. She drew and held an attentive audience, composed of every colt and filly in the place, for almost three hours after dinner, entirely on her own.

Just like now, when I can feel the entire building shaking to the beat of a hundred or so little hooves pounding on the floors, running in sync down to the mess hall.

Not one foal grumbling about it being too early, not one foal even the slightest bit drowsy.

Kinda like how she picked bedtime last night to play a song with the flute to make everypony bone tired.

… I have no idea how she did that.

Today, we go to school with the rest. She knows, as well; as a matter of fact, she’s looking forward to it.

So I go straight to the mess hall, where the staff are already setting out breakfasts- all of them, not just a few. They must have tried- and succeeded in- communicating to Lyra exactly when wake-up time was, allowing her to handle that in its entirety.

Well, I suppose there’s the one standing by the music room door, making sure nopony goes in to play audience instead of eating.

I keep a seat empty for her- and, once the song finishes, she trots in and takes it, thanking me. Nopony else understands, of course.

She then tells me she dreamed of that crown once again.

Strange. Was she a ruler of her people before the… event? I don’t know. I don’t mention it; that’ll be for another day, probably after she gets her memories back.

School goes smoothly, for the most part. After a couple brief conversations with the teachers, we start classes- and I translate for her so she can follow along.

This goes smoothly through all the general education classes. We get weird looks from a few of the other students- especially when she asks a question and I use Germane to answer.

Then we separate for the breed-specific courses. I honestly haven’t been taught much of the stuff they teach here, beyond a quick overview, so this is perhaps the only part of school I’m finding legitimately educational.

When I meet her after school, though, she wants to skip her breed-specific courses- also known as Magic Kindergarten- forevermore. She’s afraid to try what she thinks they want her to do; apparently, it’s too scary.

Unfortunately, I have to inform her she can’t skip them any more than I can accompany her in them. Which is, of course, impossible.

“But- but its-!”

“Then don’t do it,” I tell her. “Take advantage of the language barrier and don’t do it. Do try to understand everything, though- it could help you understand why it’s so scary… and make it less so.”

Author's Note:

Would you believe it if I told you the entirety of this chapter was fully written, in its current state, on Jan. 19th, just over two months ago?

... Yeah. I didn't realize I was sitting on perfectly publishable material for quite that long, either.