Just a Piece of Paper (Part I)

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"And... speed!" You call out, gripping the huge, long camera alongside your shoulder. The thing looks like more a missile launcher than film equipment, although you're long past the point where you'd question quirky Equestrian technology. At least if the whole blasted thing does blow up, you're just adjacent enough to Ponyville that you wouldn't make a fuss, anyways.

"Is there a p-p-problem, o-o-officer?" Pipsqueak asks with a phony studder, sticking out his jaw and curling his face into an ugly smile. His long, sporty red overcoat wiggles in the wind.

"Problem?" Big Mac sarcastically asks back. The stallion tickles his huge, totally fake mustache. He stands up straight in his faux police pony uniform-- a bright blue uniform compete with a big silver shield badge and flat grey slacks.

You smirk. Pip really got into this scene. Damn, that kid can write! Not too shabby at acting either. You feel the wind smacking your frizzy hair over your glasses, frustrating you a little bit. You glance over to the right and see Snails hanging his boom mike over. Rats, I hope you doesn't put it into the shot. We don't need it, really, we can clean up some of the dialogue back over in 'foley'.

"Oh, my little friend," Mac smarts off, "I'll show you a 'problem'." He leans forward, sheer anger dripping off of his face.

"And, queue the running, please," you whisper, so quiet that you can't even hear yourself. The ponies know the script, of course, so you don't need to remind them.

"You'll have to catch me first!" Pip yells, and he bounces atop a huge barrel. Mac swings forwards. Pip hops to the side, running up along a massive red and white striped umbrella besides a long fruit cart.. Mac shifts from side to side, bucking back up on his hind hooves. Pip smirks and chuckles.

Mac leaps forwards. Pip scurries over to the right and clutches a tall rope. Mac ends up with a face full of umbrella and tossed bananas, with Pip chuckling even louder. Mac growls.

You hold a hand in the air, reading to end scene. Snails sides to the side, accidentally whacking against your legs. You steady yourself, keeping the camera still. Need to have that 'in the moment' feel, not really something from a tripod, but now stupid shaky-cam bull crap.

"You're not gonna have that diamond for long! Ya'll are just ignorant, dodgin' the long hoof o' the law!" Mac yells, shaking a hoof in the air.

Pip speeds up the rope and stood atop the nearby roof, the sun rippling over his mane. He sticks a hoof into his overcoat, still smiling. Mac trots out of the scene.

"And, cut!" Colgate calls out.

The ponies all take a breath, relived that the scene went off without a hitch. You stand up and flick some knobs on the camera. Smiles pop up on the faces of all of the various production ponies around. Snails seems to look the happiest, shocked at himself for actually succeeding at a part-time job for once.

*Bang!*

"You okay up there Pip?" You abruptly yell, running over to the side of the fruit stand.

"Aw, nuts, I just accientally kicked off the ladder."

"You're not stuck," you say, although you feel pretty anxious all of a sudden. You wish that Pip hadn't written himself as such an action star with such kinetics in his scenes, even though that made the short film A Touch of Thievery a cool enough idea that Colgate got involved. "You can use the rope." You hesitate, and you walk over to the other side of the building besides the fruit stand, eyes on Pip up on the roof. "I mean... you can use the rope, right?"

"Well, it was tied to the ladder."

"Well, damn it," you mutter.

You suddenly see a bright purple light shoot out all across the roof. A magical aura rattles across the tiles, heading right for Pip. He lets out a little 'eeeep' before the aura bathes in him energy. You blink. You see Pip vanishing.

"Hey," you begin.

"Oh, right," Pip says, popping up right behind you.

You flip around. You start to say something, but your mind puts two and two together. Sure enough, you lean over to the side and see Twilight Sparkle rounding the corner past the weeping willows. She turns down her horn, and you squint to try and make out her facial expression. Her saddlebag bounces around in the wind.

She looks uncharacteristically happy and cheerful, her ears perking up and her cheeks looking flush. You glance around, seeing ponies getting totally pre-occupied in setting up for the next scene. Snails swaps his boom mie for a tray of snacks, carrying them around the set. Mac carefully examines the notes in the next several pages of the script. Colgate and Pip exchange a close, personal conversation, something that they seem to want to keep private as they head out of sight from the gaggle of crew ponies.

Maybe she's worried that Pip's hamming it up. She shouldn't worry. You look back over at Twilight as you move the camera to the next spot. Oddly enough, she seems to have been staring at you the whole time that she walked up. I don't know if I should be happy, scared, angry, or frustrated. You know that she's probably carrying some kind of important news-- news that she likes. That may or may not be something you'd like.

"Colgate, yo!" You yell over.

"Scooter, what's up? she yells back.

You tweak your head at the nickname. You've long given up fighting one of Pinkie Pie's pet names for the humans of Ponyville, even though it sounds so playfully cheesy that it makes you feel like a ten-year-old. Will I ever live down that unfortunate incident Scootaloo's and her stupid magically-spiked moped? At least you didn't get stuck with 'Peaches' or 'Scamper' or 'Snoopy' or 'Midnight' like some other pour souls you've heard about. Being called 'Scooter' actually reminds you of those classic early 90s PC games that you loved as a kid.

"Can I take five? I'm pretty sure Twi's here to see me," you say, pointing over.

"Sure!" Colgate calls back. She clears her throat, and she yells even louder. "Snails!"

The young colt, just slightly more than a foal, pops up at full attention.

"You're on camera now!"

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep," Snails replies as his face turns red, his voice sounding like a broken ipod rather than a pony. You see him already sweating from the extreme pressure.

"On, ah, second thought..." Colgate mutters. "Hey-- Lyra!"

You tune out of the conversation as you head over to Twilight, leaning up against a particularly small weeping willow. You see her idly kicking some leaves with her hooves. The wind brushes her mane around her face, her flowing purple locks sliding over her big, pretty eyes.

You lean up against the same tree right over her, taking a little breath. You stop to think for a moment. Oh, Twilight, I don't know how you can take it. Celestia's handpicked subject to be the 'point pony' for Human-x-Equestrian affairs, solving all the problems that she piles on you. You basically have the fate of two freakin' planets put on your shoulders. I wonder how long since you slept, and how long since you've had a date. You look more than beautiful enough for that. You have to cool yourself off, or your emotional roller-coasters will just kill your from the inside out. You just have to admit when you've made mistakes.

"Scooter," she says, standing up proudly.

"Yes, Twi?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"I have some important news," she says, "just like you expected when you saw me coming around."

"Sure..."

"And, goodness, those eyes of yours staring back at me looked like the eyes of a hawk for a mouse," she says, shifting her body to the side. Her hooves rub up against the tree's roots.

"I don't understand why you're so freaking hard on humans," you say flatly, looking up at the leaves dotting across the branches. You have to admit that the ever present pastel-shading on everything in Ponyville just makes it more beautiful than anything on Earth, with everything looking so warm. "Oh, sure, I know that there's been a lot of problems with nasty guys popping up. But for every one human with a bad attitude, there's five humans that just have problems fitting in, nothing happening that's their fault. No reason for your stupid, arrogant policies."

Twilight taps her hoof against the bark. You can tell that she's listening, even though she's not saying a word. She's heard that exact same spiel from ponies and humans a lot more important than you.

"I know what happened with Trixie, finding her new human assistant and 'domesticating' him like a pet via sexual favors. That doesn't mean that you should have seriously took her advice about 'fixing' humans-- implying that certain male humans loaded with hormones are just like animals in heat, naturally bitchy, and they have to be physically placated."

Twilight looks up at you. You can see something different about her expression, something reflective and caring in a motherly sense. She seems to be facing you just like she would facing Spike-- viewing you with total respect but trying to hide important information from you, things that she thinks you wouldn't understand. That feels a lot better than the Twilight you've gotten used to-- the angry, run-ragged Twilight with her eyes bulging from stress and her mane pointing out like the bride of Frankenstein's monster.

"And I just..." You stop. You know that this is neither the time nor the place to rant at Twilight once again. "I just... just..."

"Scooter," she says. You feel whatever anger you had draining from you. She seems ready to bounce and leap around just like Pinkie would. "You got it."

"I got it," you flatly repeat. Your mind feels blank.

Twilight magically pulls out a letter from her saddlebag. She lifts it up, positively beaming. You see that it's already had the top torn out. "It was technically addressed to both of us," she says, almost reading your mind. "I hope you don't mind."

You see the return address. "Not at all." You feel your breathing start to quicken. You step away from the trees. You slide out the top of the letter, and you start to tremble. It all feels like an out of body experience.

Dear sir,

Thank your very much for your message. We at the Equestrian Public Broadcasting Service (EPBS) take great pride in our success in providing excellent public affairs programs, things designed to enrich minds and to tear the walls down that prevent cultural exchange between groups. We are highly interested in your background, and we are happy to see your dual success in both studying social sciences as well as creating and working in media projects.

We are very happy to be able to welcome you on board our team. We find your concept of exploring Equestrian government polices from a human perspective to be fascinating, and we look forward to developing this further. Please arrange with your local human-x-pony liaison, Ms. Twilight Sparkle, to contact Ms. Fleur de Lis, Senior Adviser of the Canterlot Department of Interdepartmental Affairs (CDIA), as soon as possible. Ms. Fleur shall assist you in making the appropriate moving arrangements.

Your request for a Temporary Citizenship Visa (TCV) has been approved by Princess Celestia's office. Ms. Fleur's office shall hold the actual, physical visa card until such time as you can properly activate it in person, but for official purposes it is now completely active. We hope that you enjoy your temporary stay in Equestria.

Sincerely,
Judy Woodhoof
EPBS Newshour Senior Economics, Business, Finance, & Political Science Correspondent

and

Spring Step
Royal Office Secretary of Personnel Management

P.S. If you ever stop by the Cheesecake Factory in the Francisco District of Canterlot, just tell them I sent you. And try the white chocolate smoothie frost. Do they have things like those back on your planet? If not, then your species is missing out. *Smiles*

You start to feel tears well up in your eyes. I'm going to go to Canterlot. I'm going to be on TV. Celestia is going to watch me. On television. Me! It's literally my every dream come true! You slide the letter back into the envelope. You look back at Twilight.

She has tears on her face as well. You feel so happy. She holds out your arms. You hesitate, but you feel your own arms naturally held out as well.

You hug her. She hugs you back twice as hard. You feel her tears of joy dripping down along your shoulder. Her hooves run up along your hands. She feels so unbelievably warm, and you don't know how to even think about that. You can't really think.

"I'm so happy," you murmur.

"I hate to sound like your my Spike, but, well, I'm so proud of you," she says. She breaks the hug a tiny bit, sliding to the side. You find yourself sitting against the tree, her body resting atop your legs. "It's all on you, Scooter. Your resume. Your dedication. Your hard work with Colgate and everypony else over here."

"Twi," you say, moving your legs a few inches over. Twilight steps up, getting off of you and walking over to the adjacent tree.

"I know, Scooter, that I've been a little rude." She puts on a very flat expression. "And it's all been trial-and-error. Could you imagine what it was like at first? Trixie summoning humans over here, thinking that they were some kind of demons that she could lead in a netherworld-ian army or something. But even before that, how odd, scary, and weird it felt to see these new creatures, as a pony?"

You have to shake your head 'no' in total honesty.

"And, I don't know, Trixie had an idea. I had an idea. Ponies had other ideas. We didn't have any logic or reason, really, for how we've been treating humans until pretty recently." Twilight lets out a deep breath. "It's like trying to cook in a kitchen with the lights off. So maybe using sexual favors on certain humans as a reward for good human behavior was... I don't know. I can't say that things have worked badly, nor have they worked well. I'm just trying things as they go along."

You don't know what that issue has rubbed you so sore. After all, just about every pony that you've met without the names 'Fluttershy', 'Silver Spoon', 'Scootaloo', and 'Diamond Tiara' have treated you with such kindness and respect. Dealing with Twilight felt like dealing with a bookie on the run from the Russian mafia or something. You have to think that maybe you just felt like you could really end up with a pony, in a serious romance in the wedding-ring sense, and Twilight's notion of "fixing" disruptive male humans via sex cheapened all that. Thank God she didn't ever want to "fix" me.

"Scooter."

You snap back to attention, having gotten stuck in your own thoughts. Dammit, I'm just too hard on Twilight. You can't stay too mad with her standing besides you, almost radiating happiness. And she looks so beautiful. She'll probably have a nice coltfriend and then husband someday, probably long after you've left Equestria altogether. "Yes?"

"How soon do you want to head to Canterlot?"

You pause. You have to say goodbye to a lot of new friends, especially Colgate. You feel so much like an older brother that she's never had. And Pip always brightened up your day. You liked working with Applejack. Dammit! I'm being silly! I should just tell Pinkie to have a full going away party.

"I don't have much stuff," you respond, "I could probably leave late tomorrow. I do want to have time to sa--"

"Oh, Scooter!" Twilight interrupts, laughing hard. "Pinkie knows. She always knows. She'll have the whole town ready by tomorrow afternoon to see you off, partying hard."

You chuckle.

"See you later, Scooter."

Before you know it, Twilight has waved you off and headed back over to Ponyville proper. You turn around and head over towards Colgate. You catch her trying to keep a wooden backdrop in place, nudging the sides into the thick mud below and getting rather frustrated. Rather than say a word, you just hand her the letter. Her eyes devours it. She slides over and smiles at you.

You smile wider. She says, "I'll miss you a whole lot. And be careful about Canterlot. I can tell you firsthoof, it's a... a weird place. But you can handle it." She closes her eyes and holds her hooves out.

You hug her. She rubs her hooves along your back, and you both take little breaths. She holds you even closer.

You stand up, and you see Big Mac coming over from behind a trailer. You start to walk over. Odd little thoughts pop up around inside your head, and you find your move slowing.

Weird place, indeed... but whatever. I can't get it though my head. I have dozens of questions, even though I've been here for days and days. More like thousands, really. Why? Why do I have to get a 'visa'? Why is everything 'temporary'? Why can't I stay here for a long, long time? Why not forever? It's not like I have anything left back on Earth. You stop. You feel the world going black. It feels like you've stepped off into the Twilight Zone, your surroundings melting and leaving your in pure darkness.

I can't go back. Don't they know that? How many friggin' times to I have to tell her that! How many times do I have to scream at Twilight that I can't take it? That I could never go back! I won't! I can't! I'd rather do... do anything... even if it meant being 'fixed'. Even if it meant getting branded right on the ass in true pony-style. I'm not going back! NO! You feel your breathes becoming fast and mechanical.

It's happening again. Oh, oh God, please no... no... It's another attack.

You sit down, your eyes glazing over. You feel as if you can hear your own breathing getting taken over, some kind of horrible alien force going through your insides. An awful sensation like freezing cold mercury seeping into your blood courses through your body. You feel the ground beneath you. Your hands shake and shiver, dirt rubbing all over them.

Dirt.

Your eyes blink again and again, going off like a metronome.

Dirt.

You seem to lose all control of your body.

Just like the dirt that they buried me in.

You clutch the paper in your hands closely. It's just a piece of paper. Yet it's the only thing keeping your connected to reality from inside your nightmare world.

You relive those fateful moments once again. Those moments had burned into your subconscious, carving a piece of your soul. You experience them, feeling just as real as back on Earth.

"Someone... anyone... please..."

Mom yells over at your little brother, making an obnoxious "What are you doing?" snarl. You turn your head to the side, not wanting to hear it. You lean your head against the seat in front of you, cursing Delta's new ultra-small spots. You turn to the side. You see a wing. You blink.

You see torn metal. You see fire. You see jagged pieces flying around. You see things flying over to you. You see your hands gripping your seat-belt. You see flight attendants screaming. You see your mother screaming. You see people thrown to the side as the plane threw itself to the side. You close your eyes.

You open them up again. You see water. You see a forest. You see mud. You see thick, icky, disgusting mud flowing through everything. You see a smashed piece of what used to be a wing carving a set of oaks in two. You see the mud caked over everything. You blink.

You see an arm sticking out of the mud. You see it frozen still, as lifeless as the third of a wing jutting out eight feet way. You blink.

You see your own corpse sinking into the mud. You scream. You hear nothing.

Of course, you hear nothing. You'll never hear anything again. You're dead, remember? Isn't that fascinating?

Doesn't you flesh look nice and peachy-gray? Just look at how those beautiful black branches from the nearby bush have dug into your elbow. It seems like visual poetry. I'm sure that you'll keep several wild animals very well fed. Your mother's remains have already proved a supple treat way over on the other side of the forest. Isn't that something?

I wonder what the black box will say. Probably a one in a million mechanical failure. A set of bad parts. You might even get tangently referenced in a lawsuit. Trial lawyers will pay their school bills off because of you. Isn't that wonderful?

At any rate, the Delta 1408 crash might even push Kim Kardashian's new beau off the front pages for a few days. You'll have a nice funeral as well, due to the publicity. Your friends at the University will cry and cry. They'll probably name a scholarship after you. Won't that be great?

And, although they'll never find the body, you'll have a fancy little gravestone besides you father's over in Lakeview Cemetary. Right in that thick, tulip filled plot. Isn't that grand?

You see your lifeless arm sinking even futher. You scream. You cry.

You want to feel so afraid. You can't feel anything. You don't feel anything.

You silly. You're dead.

And that's the end.

Goodbye.

*Thud!*

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" You scream out with all your strength. You let out a gutteral moan, arms and legs wailing in the air. You throw yourself backwards and leap upwards. You back up against the flimsy wall behind you, knocking it over, and you make a fighting stance. Your heart beats like a jackhammer.

"Scooter, my friend."

You see a variety of ponies around you, all staring. Looks vary from confusion to fear to tender, kind concern. Big Mac stands just inches in from of you. He has a hoof hovering in the air, and your jaw feels sore. You realize that he's just bucked you-- no doubt as nicely as possible-- to wake you up.

"Mac..."

Without saying a word, he leans over and takes you in on his side. It seems like such a weird feeling. You've seen him cradle Applebloom just the same way, and you hardly can think as your quivering hands grip his huge, muscular shoulders. You force that gigantic black cloud of evil back down into your subconscious, fighting it as much as you can. Mac nudges you with his snout. That big guy just oozes big brotherly love. You smile.

You stand up straight, calmed down. You get ready to explain things to the ponies around that haven't heard of your condition before. Before you do, you stop. You have a sudden thought strike you.

"I never told Princess Celestia or the ponies at my new job about my-- my-- my problem-- now did I?"

You take a gulp.

To Be Continued...

Every Breath You Take (Part II)

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You lean back in the seat, hand still pressed against the cold glass. You watch the rain streaking across the window. The hills, valleys, and rivers, although looking as huge and picturesque as you had expected, faded into mere background before too long. Canterlot, tall bright white buildings stretching on and on besides each other with the magnificent royal castle behind them, had impressed you at the very first sight.

You can't help but feel on edge. You may have had such a great party, you may have seen pony after pony from Colgate to Lyra to Roseluck and others in tears of joy, and you may have had such an easy time getting on the train with Twilight accompanying you until the last possible moment. That didn't change the fact that seeing the pretty purple unicorn fading into nothingness on the platform behind you had felt almost like having your face shoved into a mound of snow. Ripples of apprehension and nervousness had crawled across your skin.

You glance back from the window over at the other passengers. You haven't minded them. They haven't cared about you. I guess that's the thing about 'tolerance' for humans. It doesn't mean the same thing as 'acceptance'. You sit still as a young, bouncy foal with a short dark green mane trots down the aisle. He meets eyes with you for a split-second before going on, probably thinking of you no differently than a piece of scenery just like a stack of luggage.

You see him waggling his short, even darker green tail as he reaches the end of the train car. He slaps against the wall and turns to the side, clutching one of the sparkling white sodas from the tray besides the train car's door. He sucks it down in a split-second, not even leaving the ice cubes. He lets out a comic burp.

You chuckle. You hear a disapproving feminine moan from a few rows over, and you freeze. You see the foal tossing himself over, hooves out, and an older mare with a ragged light green mane and a long, slender white body shifts around in that row. Your eyes meet with hers. She blinks, and she immediately glances at the floor. Her foal, most likely her son, grabs onto her leg and mutters something about wanting more snacks. You keep on looking that way, but you realize that she probably doesn't want your attention.

You rest your face on your right hand, and you glance back over at the ceiling above you. You rest you head against the comfy crimson-colored pillow-ish thing on the top of your seat. Once upon a time, back on earth, I could have struck up a conversation with a random stranger. I could have just been nice enough to them, and they would have been nice enough to me. And now... now, with ponies around... they'll just stare at me. "Oh, it's a human! The human is talking to me! What should I do!"-- they'll think to themselves. And then I'll see the confusion and tension just melting their faces off, almost.

You sigh. 'Tolerance' is pretty goddamn cold. You "tolerate" a fly on your shoulder. You hear somepony announcing from way over at the other end of the train car that you'll approach the Canterlot station in just a few minutes. You close your eyes and relax once again, forgetting about the ponies around you.

It had occurred to you after Twilight had disappeared on the horizon that Canterlot will be filled with ponies like that. Ponies that you didn't know and that didn't want to know you, even though they wouldn't be overly mean or nasty or discriminatory or anything like that. You don't know a soul in Canterlot. You know of several ponies, especially Fluer de Lis, but that mean the same thing.

You flash back to your first meeting with Applejack, just minutes after you had materialized time and space on the roof atop a Sweet Apple Acres barn. Applebloom, Big Mac, and her had helped you down, trying their best to ease your shock. You felt totally out of it, hardly able to even breathe let alone speak, as gobs of grassy dirt and ice cold water poured off your sides.

Applejack recounted later that you simply gasped over and over again about "mud", "mud", and more "mud" as you shivered, your eyes bulging out. Applebloom had wrapped you softly with a fuzzy blanket. For whatever reason, she had given you her hair bow, her hooves nudging against your freezing wet legs. You had clutched it and held it close as you tried to keep your hands from trembling.

Just like with every other humans she had met, from Scamper to Peaches to you and everyone else, Applejack had stood back and eyed you from head to toe, sizing you up. It only took a matter of seconds for her to see something within you. Whatever she had seen in your soul, it flicked a switch in her mind that made her think of you as surrogate family. She'd defend you and stand up for you to the ends of Equestria no matter what.

Most Ponyville ponies act like that, albeit not as dramatically. They either feel totally terrified or distrustful for a newcomer, human or otherwise, or they take him or him in and accept him or her completely. In fairness, a lot of human visitors haven't behaved very well. You can't blame Fluttershy in particular for either dashing away or freezing like a block of ice whenever you walk around. Thank goodness Angel Bunny didn't end up in that guy's rabbit stew, or else she'd never ever stand to be on the same block as a human. He still lost over a dozen friends and family, though. You picture the gravesite a stone's throw from Fluttershy's house where she laid down the guy's collection of bunny skulls.

You flash back to seeing Fluttershy leaning up against her house, her face locked at the forest as her delicate yellow hooves rubbed up against wooden blocks. Gosh, she's so incredibly beautiful. Her long, flowing mane especially. Another 'perfect ten' that I could never talk to, let alone ever have a chance with. You've long since abandoned the idea that you be ashamed for finding mares attractive. They couldn't seem more different from ponies back on Earth, from their magic to their voices to their moves and more. And you know that you're not really 'you' either, being dead. You also have the same pastel shaded colors and halo-effect around your own body, pictures of you looking like comic book scenes rather than photographs back on Earth. Your voice even sounds somewhat lighter and even a bit squeakier.

*Creak!*

You jolt around, waking up from your flashbacks, as your train slows down. You hear steam escaping in front of you as a torrent of slightly quieter clangs and creaks goes off below you. You stand up straight, your fingers tapping on the seat in front of you. You glance around at the wide variety of ponies sitting around, most of them chatting with the travelers besides them. You have your own particular row to yourself, feeling like a bad omen although the conductor pony just chalked that up to last minute cancellations.

You see the front door to the train car open, and two burly stallions with dark brown bodies and frizzy golden manes step in. They have their hooves out in supplication, making resigned expressions. One of them, standing a foot or more shorter than his compatriot, magically carries a large black box underneath him.

"Sorry, folks, I know you've been waiting, but we--"

A chorus of frustrated moans and groans erupts throughout the train car. The taller stallion twitches his short, thin mustache. You can't help thinking of Charlie Chaplain, especially with the twain wearing such sharp black bowler hats.

"It's a simple precaution that you all know the reason for, wot-wot. We've had a call giving a hot tip for another--" He makes a long, angry sigh. "Another prank." His compatriot nods.

"Prank Yankers?" asks the same foal from before, standing up atop a stack of luggage.

"Yeah, yeah, it's the stupid blasted 'Prank Yankers'," groses the stallion. He slides over the box and opens it up. You watch intently as the shorter stallion magically holds out a long, thin instrument with tubes and wires going from it over to a small grey pack-- the pack itself covered in knobs and sliders beneath a meter of some kind.

You can't stop yourself from laughing. You immediately think back to the first scenes from Ghostbusters-- Venkman and the rest trying to detect the library ghost. You gauge the other ponies reactions. About half seem bored. Another half look deeply anxious, some even chattering their teeth.

"What's the prank this time?" asks the green-maned foal.

"Schultz?" asks the short stallion.

"Yes, Schuz?" asks the tall stallion.

"We can tell them, right?"

Schultz stops for a moment, tapping a hoof against his chin. He sniffs from his huge, bulbous nose. "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh... yes."

"Chocolate Pudding Bomb." Schuz declares, walking around in the aisles. "Or, what we in the security biz call 'C.P.B.s'. It's supposedly going to burst out and coat the entire train from car to car with sticky black sugary goop dripping everywhere, even-- like--" He stops, sliding his head back and forth. "Like it'll be dripping from the insides of your eyelids. Another Prank Yanker insanity." He bucks up on his hind legs and guesteurs melodramatically over at the ceiling.

"Right," Schultz says.

"And it'll be the third prank this month!"

"Right..."

"While the first time was that Spontaneous Farting Powder prank on Wednesday. No, wait!" He bounces around the alise, reminding you of Pinkie Pie. "It was the two-weeks-ago-Wednesday. Yippers! That was rather annoying."

"Right..."

"But at least the rain diluted that one. Although, I guess it was pretty funny to see Princess Candence blowing her dress up around her sides from the never ending-- uh-- mare-gusts of her flanks. She turned so red." Schuz seems to be really getting into it, hopping up on empty chairs and acting out the scene.

"Right..."

"And then, and then!" Schuz says sliding over to right next to you and waving his hooves over your head. "There was that thing with the Human Space Invaders prank. The H.S.I.s incident, right. They were actually balloons. Only they didn't do anything at first, 'cuz they were like filled up with air so they didn't lift, but then-- like-- like--" Shuz grabs your hands, and he tugs them up into the air.

"Right..."

"And the humans had their balloon-y air insides magically replaced with helium at the right moment, and they sailed over the Franciso District."

Before you can even think, Shuz grabs your body and picks you up into the air. You freeze with your hands and legs in a crab position as the stallion wiggles you up and down.

"The Prank Yankers brought everyone all crazy as they hacked the city PA system and went like-- 'Help! Help! The humans are invading from outer space! They're here to steal our new, fashionable outfits!' Ponies like buckin' lost it! I swear that I saw Fancy Pants tinkling in his trousers! And ol' Rarity opened up her mouth and--"

"Shuz!" Shultz screams.

The stallions lock eyes, Schuz breathing hard.

"I think you're getting carried away."

Schuz looks up at you, and you frown. He looks over at Schultz and the travelers across the train-car, eyes all focused on him. Schuz seems to turn many different colors.

"Sorry," he whispers. He gently puts you down onto your seat, your legs sliding back down. Schuz walks over besides the door that he came in. Shultz keeps on staring at Schuz. The younger stallion slides a hoof across his face-- his lips well zipped.

Holy Cheese and Crackers! That kid stallion is strong! Good think he isn't, like, an evil changeling or something. I've only ever seen Big Mac showing that kind of ability. You take a very deep breath.

"Anyways," Schultz begins, putting on his odd electronic device, "the long-story-short version of events is that we'll be scanning all the passengers. Checking your a-values with my e-meter here, and it will only take a few minutes, max."

A few frustration groans go off, but most passangers have resigned to your fate. You sit back and relax once again. Human beings have the Oklahoma City bombing and 9/11. Ponies have the 'Prank Yankers'. Sounds like a massive step up, doesn't it? You hear squeaking noises coming out of the machine as Schultz waves through pony after pony. You hardly care. As long as he doesn't go full TSA on me and stick a quivering white-gloved hoof up my butt, I'm A-OK with this.

You think about Fleur de Lis. You haven't ever seen her before. You've only seen official portrait-type things in various brochures and parenthetical references in TV news programs. You feel pretty happy that she'll meet you right at the train station, first thing as you get off. You hate being along in really big, really crowded places where others that don't care about will bump into you and talk around you as blinding lights and flashing noises go off overhead. You had medication for that, of course, but it still didn't help that much.

Back on Earth, of course, you could always count on people you know. Your mother, most of all, understood those sorts of symptoms very well. Your had father suffered through it all with twice the intensity. The poor man couldn't even socially function, literally having to step on every stair as he walked and having his breathing go crazy as rooms got too full. He rarely went to places that he didn't know.

Your brother did't have that same kind of sickness. You stop, rubbing your nose. You flash back to seeing your brother playing with his new lazer pointer that you got him-- with 'Welcome To The Space Age' carved on the side. He had to keep getting told over and over again to be careful not to flash it into someone's eyes. At least, he didn't carry it everywhere. He couldn't carry it on the plane, obviously. You feel your breathing getting tense.

The plane.

You slide your feet forwards, having such an odd sensation coming over you. You press your fingers against your temples, repeating the trick that your mother had drilled down over and over again. You curse your inability to have an iPod that you could brainwash yourself with, blasting constant happy music. That pre-migraine like sensation seeps through your insides, feeling something like cold, wet mud going over your skin.

Of course, your brother isn't sick.

You blink. You can hear the ponies getting security checked from around you, beeping from their e-meter going into your ears. You still feel half in one world and half in another.

Your brother is dead. Remember?

You shudder. "No..."

I'll bet his internal organs have totally decayed by now. Still, maybe there are a few pieces of his lungs, spleen, and other things providing for the worms. Their little mouths are probably going through lines of his flesh as we speak. Isn't that fascinating, the circle of life in action?

"No..." You feel yourself slipping into darkness.

How does it make you feel to see your little brother die before you? To have you fail and fail completely to protect him?

"No!"

No, what? He's dead. Oh, and-- news flash-- so is someone else. You're breathing really hard right now, aren't you? Every breath you take is pointless, though. Fat lot of good it'll do you.

"NOOO!"

"Excuse me, sir?" asks Schultz.

You feel your whole body convulse. You slide over in your chair. You try to slow your breathing. The whole world around you fades in from total darkness over to the same familiar train-car.

"I guess you just knickered off into a small mini-dream with a mini-nightmare," Schultz says, leaning his head back. "Nothing to worry about, sir." He hits his chest with a hoof. "Even the strongest ponies can have particular things bugging them after walking up. No skin off of your teeth, wot-wot."

"Okay," you reply. You see the stallion fiddling with his pack, and he gets totally engrossed in the various knobs.

You imagine your little red vial in your backpack. You replay seeing Nurse Redheart stack vial after vial into a special medicine box for you, nudging it into the pack, and then tucking an emergency dose into a side pocket. You had both hugged, her tender hooves rubbing against your back, and you had cried a little. Peaches had hugged you just a moment later. Damn lucky Peaches... together with what seems like the most beautiful mare in Equestria outside of royalty.

"Ready to be scanned, sir?"

Rather than say anything, you simply move over to the edge of your seat and hold both hands as well as both feet out. You take a little breath. I hope I don't have too much iron in my blood or something. I did have some of Applejack's really mineral and vitamin filled cereal this morning, didn't I? Well, crap. You see the stallion running his instrument over your head and then down your chest.

*Beep!*

Schultz examines the pack. He frowns. He looks over at the wand and holds it even closer to your skin. He locks his eyes on the pack, and his frown expands into a full scowl.

"Uhh..."

"Don't tell me it's acting up again," he says to himself. He pats on the pack. You notice that it's lighting up with an alien red glow. Whatever meter thing is on there, the needle has moved all the way to the side over besides an infinity symbol.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

"May I move a bit closer?" he asks you. After you nod ever so slightly, he runs the wand down across your arms and over to your sides. He takes frustrated little breaths.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

"Oh, for the love of Luna!" Schultz calls out. His compatriot pops up right besides him.

"What's his a-value?" Schuz says.

"Infinity," Schultz replies.

"I don't understand..."

"Of course, you don't understand!" Schultz retorts, going up on his hind hooves. "It's an illogical response, wot-wot. It's as if you asked me, "Is it raining outside', and I replied with, 'The waffle people are warring the outer space radioactive hamsters and dripping their syrup blood onto Equestria.' It's sheer nonsense."

"What's an a-value again?" you ask.

The stallions ignore you. You start feeling rather worried. You lean up in your seat, eyeing the exit behind you. Every breath you take feels like it gives an injection of adreline right into your heart.

To Be Continued...

Fleur's Friendly Advice

by SwiperTheFox

Just a Piece of Paper (Part I)

Every Breath You Take (Part II)