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Gentle Touch jumped off a short retractable ramp into the warm drizzling rain and took a few steps from the edge of the platform. Large drops began to gather and roll from her pale orange fur, unusually dense for an earth pony; Gentle shivered and looked around for a kiosk. There were too many ponies around with bags, suitcases on wheels, or loaded trunks on their backs. In this short inspection, Gentle saw more ponies than she had seen in her own sector for a luster.
“But I forgot my umbrella…” she said aloud, and immediately mentally reprimanded herself for an unnecessary lie. In fact, she was simply too lazy to come upstairs for an umbrella and a raincoat and to look for them among the boxes and packages before leaving: In the past nine rounds they were needed no more than three times.
She sniffed to find the station cafe but smelled nothing apart from the hot metal of a train and rails, strong rail grease, slight traces of pickles in other ponies’ personal bags, and the ponies themselves — irritated, contented, anxious, waiting. At the home station, from where she departed less than two cycles ago, the cafe could be smelled from at least three throws away, but here... it was as if nopony had ever lived here!
Gentle closed her eyes, searching for the right kinds of lines. Among the many colors she could sense, she tried to concentrate on the white lines. And of the white lines, she sought the warmest among them, but not necessarily the hottest. A calm one, without sparks and throbs.
She went to it, almost being knocked down by a couple on the way. A mare and a stallion, in a hurry for the train, ran side-by-side and left no space for her, nor even noticed her.
For the first few lusters everything will most likely be fine for them both; quite close, but not identical spectra.
She had had no time to look at them any closer, to form any more than this brief impression.
Gentle Touch apologized; the stallion nodded that no offense was taken. After that she kept her eyes open, although that meant she saw no lines anymore.
She cautiously approached a tall, graceful grayish-white pegasus mare in a White Moon’s uniform. Said mare was deep in a crossword puzzle under a yellow streetlight, and right now she was filling in another guessed word.
Gentle Touch waited for her to finish and asked quietly, “If I don’t disturb you… I have a question. A few questions. Can you help me?”
The mare smiled, turning her head to look at Gentle Touch and shaking it slightly; raindrops scattered from her short white and purple bob, but apparently this did not bother the pegasus. She dropped a marker in her bag, and replied brightly, “Oh, but of course, dear. It’s okay, I'm here and poised to listen.”
The pegasus opened a badge’s cover on her left foreleg, and lifted it, showing: transport sector double zero, Cursory Streak, 120211002.
“Where can I shelter from the rain, and how do I get to habitat sector 12-S?” Gentle asked.
The badge snapped shut.
”You intend to go there for a... long time?”
“Not sure yet... I have my designation. Why does it matter?” Gentle asked in turn.
"Then a pair of guiding glasses will be quite helpful," Cursory smiled. “Don't worry, I'll buy them for you. You should know that in S sectors, only locals are really comfortable traveling without a pair.”
“No, no, I have the bits! And, I had one more question… it still rains, you know.” Gentle tried to shake the moisture out of her white mane too, without much success.
“You can look for me,” Cursory took a short run, and with two strong flaps of wings sent herself skyward.
Gentle looked up and shouted, “Hey, where are you going? And why can't we just use our hooves?”
“We could, but it’ll be slower, and you are already wet! In case of fences, jump over!” came the response from above.
Rude much…? Gentle hurried up so as not to lose sight of the pegasus. As if she didn’t even notice that I have no wings!
She really had to jump along the road once, on a half-open bridge across the highway. But the rest of the route turned out to be smooth, and only once was Gentle at a loss for a few beats, with a run-up that crashed her into the space under the arch. From there the road obviously went further, just the arch simply stopped her as an invisible resinous obstacle. She had to turn around and look for another way. What if she flies away…? whispered fear. As if you can't find somepony to persuade, another voice in her head replied with a light-hearted laugh.
But, nevertheless, after a time, Gentle Touch calmed down and entered the rhythm of an easy canter, neither hurrying nor hesitating, managing to look around and evade passers-by, and correctly run under permissive signals at intersections — Cursory Streak clearly led her in an exactly intended way such that the earth pony never had to stop.
So, a slice later, the half-open doors of the restaurant appeared in front of her, a bright lemon light pouring out from within. Heavy drops of the rain — by now almost a downpour — beat her coat in an uneven and frequent rhythm. Cursory dived five steps from Gentle, and a vertical torrent of wind descended on Gentle, rustling her white mane.
“All right, here we have the ‘Garden of Forgotten Finds.’ A pretentious name, to be sure, and I certainly do not recommend forgetting about it!” Cursory giggled. “At least, not until you tire of it. But most of the food is decent, and there is no queue at the tables at this time of the cycle, so you needn’t worry about taking somepony’s place while you dry. Here we can also buy you some guiding glasses.”
⊛⊛⊛
It was nice to meet you, reputable Herald Gentle Touch. The session is over, the disembodied voice whispered not in her ear but in the back of her head. Gentle put her newly-acquired guiding glasses on the restaurant table and took two more large sips of grapefruit juice. Colors and contours were painfully bright, even as she knew for sure there were no modifiers in the salad or in the drink. It was just... there were too many ponies around, and she was too unaccustomed to the glasses’ link. Even now, with glasses on the table, she still had been vaguely annoyed about how they worked.
She rolled the glasses’ white case in her hooves, peering at the logo: the utterly black silhouette of an alicorn rearing up on her hind legs with barely noticeable pink and purple strands in the mane.
Three rounds ago the purchase would have been out of reach due to her status, but now, with her being Herald and with Cursory Streak’s help, it had cost her almost nothing. Less than delivery service. Only one unit, no replacement except under warranty, so she should be cautious to not break anything, though. She tried to close the case for a few beats, felt awkward, but then it clicked satisfyingly, and Gentle Touch looked at Cursory.
“Thank you for the treat and for helping with…” According to the packaging, the glasses were ‘conditionally safe route planner, personal form factor’ but it was too much of a mouthful and did not match the friendly and attentive voice inside the glasses.
“With a companion, you wanted to say,” Cursory Streak laughed. “I see you’re not doing very well with it. Maybe you’d like to spend two or three cycles at my house until you get used to it and have time to look around? I’d prefer to keep working but while I'm away, make yourself at home. Cosmetics, books — mostly just detective novels, mind you — and a hot tub with a shower! I can find you an extra bed if need be. But it’s okay to just use my own; your alignment isn’t White, is it? And your smell — an unripe apple, to my nose — is quite cute, I definitely smell that this isn’t a perfume. So I don't mind having you around.”
Gentle Touch blinked twice, and took a closer look at a pegasus. Ever closer, almost to a cutting pain in her closed eyes. I’m sure there is no— almost no, she corrected herself— sexual attraction to me.
A pity. Maybe I could play with it, ignite it some more if I followed that other aspect of Blue Moon…
She stopped herself dead in the tracks of this thought, sent the train of it to the home station, and locked all its doors to be sure. Heralds should never misuse their powers for disproportional personal gain, she recalled the lesson; exhaled slowly.
She tried to be quick in refusal, until Cursory read the stammer. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d better go to my address.” She touched the envelope with the designation sent by the Trinity of Moons. “I don’t want to postpone, let it be as it should be.”
Cursory replied in an instant, as if expecting the refusal, “In that case, I'll fly with you.”
Gentle shivered again, but no matter how much she looked, she saw nothing but benevolence and a will to guard and protect. Well, yes, of course, White Moon has this aspect too...
“Okay, but I want to get to the place myself, without your prompts. You won't always be there,” Gentle Touch said, trying to sound confident.
“Of course, dear!” Cursory Streak held out her hoof, and Gentle Touch confirmed the deal with a short bump in return.
Hmm.. the agents of the Moons are very, or can be very, distrustful of each other. So far, it seems the Moons are alicorns, or something like them, and have dominion over specific aspects of existence.
There is a quality to this that somehow reminds me of the work of Stanislaw Lem, though I cannot put my finger (hoof!) on it.
The Moons seem to provide specific disciplines and even power to their minions. Most curious.
Five chapters in and I still have no idea what is going on. This is a very difficult fiction to parse, and not just because of the numerous terms being thrown about. I'm getting the computer terminology for measuring time (I think) considering 3 moons would mean they have no day/night cycles, but beyond that it's hitting a wall of jargon at all times.
I know a cat was a data amalgamation of an aunt who died, I think? And Solid Line and Gentle Touch are like copies of intelligences or they're robots? The three moons are computers with patron saint intelligences managing them? Is this sci-fi? Is my nose bleeding?
Also, these sentences are looooong and some are super run-ons. For example:
This is three or four sentences-worth of information squeezed into one. I had to read it three times before realizing the stallion wasn't apologizing to Gentle.
I'm not trying to be mean here, I simply feel like I haven't grasped anything that I've read in the past hour and I'm starting to feel crazy. I tried reading it with Text-to-speech, but that made it worse. The entire story isn't written like this, is it? I thought maybe the narration and wording was weird because you were trying to keep things unclear and dense in a stylistic choice that I wasn't clicking with, but now I don't know. We've swapped perspectives to a new character and it still reads in the same confusing manner. I might have to try again from the beginning tomorrow.
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First, glad that you did reply. It is important for me. I'd take that over a silence anytime!
Second, please don't struggle yourself over this text. English is not my first language. A viable option is that... well, maybe I'm just illiterate? Proofreaders and editors can only do as much as they can.
The ultra-long run of sentence is actually an exception, I think usual long sentences there are... a half of this one monstrosity? I have fixed this one right now.
No, it is not sci-fi. Gentle Touch and Cursory Streak are living ponies, flesh and bone and all that. I don't know how to show that, yet.
The beginning is rough. But if you are still lost at Chapter 5, it is a bad sign. Not your fault! Just a sign that the beginning is extremely cryptic and needs to be rewritten, maybe totally.
The aunt is a postmortem data amalgamation, yes. The process is not computer-based.
For that matter, could you please tell me what raises questions? When I will rewrite the beginning, it will help immensely.
Hm, I'm not sure that rewrites should be placed as they are now, replacing the originals... Now you have a lot of irrelevant comments all around : )
But the story is way better flowing now. Maybe it's because I know (mostly) what's going on, maybe it is indeed less confusing now, but good work anyways : )