I unlock the front door with a deft turn of the key pinched in the frog of my hoof, then I step inside and slam the door shut behind me. (I'm not trying to be dramatic, I'm just in a bad mood.)
My right ear tingles as an odd, lingering pain throbs in the side of my head. "Well, that's just great. I'm not surprised I have a headache. Today was the worst!" I grumble to myself while unstrapping my saddlebags. I dump them on the floor and drop the key into the side pocket. "Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle just had to get sick on the same day. Everything was so boring..."
I think a little about how annoying it was, because I don't have to say everything out loud like a lunatic. For some reason the details are fuzzy, but I remember spending recess hanging out with the colts. Most of the fillies aren't interested in cool stuff like—
Wait a minute, something just happened. What was that? I focus on the feeling, and sense a sudden, intrusive thought:
"Scootaloo. Something isn't right."
I shake my head rapidly back and forth and walk to the couch. "Huh? Nothing isn't, uh, not right, except... um..." I say, then look back at the front door. I hadn't noticed coming in, but several envelopes are lying under the mail slot. They lay scattered on the hoofmat, probably junk mail. I trot back to examine them, just in case there's something interesting.
That weird thought still has the alicorn's share of my attention, though. "I don't feel like anything's wrong... but... I guess I do feel a little weird," I admit to myself. "Is it because I feel more comfortable hanging with colts than fillies? There's nothing wrong with that. Is there?"
I wince at another twinge of pain. I rub my right ear. It feels strange and it's lying limp against my mane, and it reminds me of when a hoof falls asleep. Maybe I was right after all—the weird thought in my head, I mean. Is there something wrong with my ear? I don't remember hurting it. Maybe it's just the headache.
"Okay, that must be what's wrong," I think.
Wait, did I think that? I'm not sure, but I respond anyway. "Eh, the ear's probably because of the headache. It sucks, but it'll be over in a few minutes."
No. Not the ear. The colts and fillies thing. There's something wrong with how I feel about that.
I'm not sure I agree with myself. "You... I mean, we're not interested in a coltfriend or anything," I say, making sure the distaste comes through loud and clear in my voice so I know I mean business. "I don't like mushy stuff. I'm not interested in a special somepony, and I'm probably too young anyway. I hang around the boys because some of them are cool, but they're still gross compared to fillies."
I hate it how adults tell me I'll change when I'm older. Dad does that a lot, but I don't have to hear it often because he's never... "Ouch, this stupid thing," I say, holding a hoof against my right temple. "I don't want to think about any of this."
Despite my protest, I have to admit, my... well, whatever it is, I'm on to something. Even if I ignore the headache, everything feels a little out of place today. I try to think back, and it's hard to remember what we did at school today, apart from nearly falling asleep. That's most days, though.
This is pretty weird. I'm curious, but I'm also afraid. I hate it when this happens. I lean down, and my hooves begin to tremble as they pick up the letters... okay, it just got really strange.
"It feels like I'm remembering what I'm doing right as I'm doing it," I whisper. "What's that called again... I can't remember."
"Thanks! That's what it is, alright," I say, and then I feel kind of dumb for thanking myself, but talking to myself is normal by comparison to these odd sensations. The, um... the déjà vu is strong right now. Really strong. But it's only when I'm looking at the letters. Is something bad coming? That might be why my hooves are shaking, but I don't want to believe it. I'm not this bad of a scaredy-cat. I hope.
"I feel it getting closer. I think... I'm gonna, um, realize something. But how do I know that?" I ask myself, almost expecting I'll have an answer. Who knows, maybe I will? I guess I'm a little confused at the moment, but I spend too much time alone. It's a good thing I met Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle when I did, because I was on the edge of going nuts back then.
"I hope them being absent one day isn't all it takes to make me snap," I say. I try to say it jokingly but I'm a little nervous, but that's because I worry about everything, and again, I spend too much time in here by myself. I'm almost always alone when I'm home. It's just as well, though. I'm a latchkey foal, and this place is always a mess because I'm terrible at keeping stuff clean... and my... my...
"Ow! My head really hurts," I think.
I agree with myself, I do think that, I think back to my thoughts. Thinking about stressful things makes my head hurt more, which I guess is normal. The déjà vu doesn't hurt, though, so I think more about that instead. "Why does it feel like I'm remembering something as I do it? Did this happen to me before?"
"I'm pretty sure I don't remember this," comes the thought.
"I don't? No, that's not right. I remember thinking some of the things I'm thinking right now. Like, the exact same thoughts, something about my parents, or..." my voice trails off as my head throbs.
"We're ruminating about stuff that's stressful, that's all."
"Dude! I'm not a cow." (Sheesh. I should know better!)
"No, ruminating as in, being fixed on the same idea over and over, like how cattle chew their cuds," I explain. "We've thought about stuff like this over and over, so it feels like a memory... though you're—I mean, we're right about it feeling really strange."
"Thinking about the same thing twice isn't weird. It doesn't feel anything like this feels," I point out. "This feels super weird."
"Déjà vu is usually the result of a random neurological process where both halves of your brain misfire, so you remember something as it happens," I explain. "It should feel weird.... but I think we're right, there's something else going on. When I remember school today, it's all fuzzy. Maybe I got sick, too? I don't know how we 'zoned out' that much.
I'm distracted by something I just said. I don't remember knowing that much about brains, and I don't know what 'neurological' means. I must have heard it somewhere, I guess. It makes sense that it's a 'random' thing, because it feels so bizarre. Maybe Pinkie Pie causes it, or maybe this is what it feels like to be her. I don't know because we don't have a lot in common.
I don't have much in common with most ponies, come to think. I wish I did with Dash, but I can't ignore the facts. Maybe Apple Bloom... but I can't remember why.
I look up at the ceiling for a moment so I'm less distracted. "It's not just the headache. Thinking feels hard today, like... like I'm swimming against a wave or something."
"You said you... we were thinking about my parents. Did we mean parents, or... who are they again... our aunts?"
"Yeah! Our... my aunts. That's right. I'm a latchkey foal, I live by myself, and they visit every week. Amethyst checks in with me in the evenings," I respond. "She doesn't stop by until later, and it's really weird that I'm having this conversation with you—uh, with me. With us?"
"Us? Right, us. I don't think we're confused. We know who we are. I'm Scootaloo. All of this is normal stuff to think about. I think we're overthinking thinking. Maybe we're just tired," I say back to myself. "Don't take a nap, though, there's something else. I need to remember something really important, so try to help us. It isn't anything we've been talking about."
I shake my head. "None of this is normal, me. It's not just a brain thing, I'm sure. I can remember something that's about to happen, and I know something's coming. I'm right about to have a major, um... a realizing-things moment."
"Yikes, that's a big word. Okay, 'ee-pif-an-ee'. I'm having one of those things," I say, and then I feel a shiver run down my spine. "Not yet, but any minute now."
I think carefully. "You're right! I can tell it's coming. So... can we remember what we're about to realize, or do we have to wait for it? Waiting is kind of scary."
"I think what I realized... what I will realize... it's something about being a filly. Yeah, that's what it is. Then I end up talking to my aunts about it a lot the next day," I explain. "Wait, I can remember tomorrow? That's not right at all, but... that's what I'm supposed to, um, to have, had, happened. Because my parents are never around..." My head throbs again. I want to go get some Foal's Tylenol, but I'm not sure if I can. I'm not supposed to leave this area yet. I have no idea what that means.
"How do we know all this? What rotten luck. There's something very important I can't remember, and it must be related to why everything feels out of the usual. Maybe it's about that epiphany."
"But that hasn't happened. And it's not that déjà stuff because it's still in the future, like tomorrow. I don't think I have to remember a thing until it happens," I say. "We don't, right?"
"I guess that makes sense, but it feels like it shouldn't... But yeah, we're right, I don't think the epiphany is what I need to remember."
I shrug. All this thinking isn't getting me anywhere, which is probably why I like to act before I bother to think. So, I return my attention to the letters in my hoof. I flip through them and toss all the junk mail in the recycling can next to the door. One letter remains. I walk back to the couch to examine it. The name above my address says, "Scoot Scoot Scootaloo!" in Apple Bloom's distinct mouthwriting.
"Bogus. I hate that, but she doesn't know the teasing hurts me until... it's when I wind up having the courage to tell her. I think I do that later on this week. Then she apologizes a lot, and over time I end up thinking it's actually kinda funny. I even build a chicken-shaped derby car with Rainbow Dash next year," I say, smiling as I slit the envelope with the sharp part of my left hoof. "Right now Dash doesn't even know who I am, but that's okay because it'll change and we'll be good friends..."
"Being teased a little can be okay as long as they're not trying to hurt you. At least it means ponies notice you. That has to be worth something," my inner thoughts ramble. "It's awful when they look away, and even worse when they get that look of contempt and disgust on their face, but it's nice when they seem amused, which is the usual reaction. Or, it was the reaction, a long time ago... Even if they're laughing at us, I count it as a win if I can make somepony's day a little brighter."
I'm not sure what to say to that. "That's... kinda sad, to be honest, and I don't feel that way at all! Why am I saying that?" I ask, chewing on my lip from the nervous tension. "Although... no, I do kinda remember what you're saying. Or what I'm saying, or whatever. But that still doesn't make any sense, because I don't want ponies to notice that I'm unusual at all. I don't want to be... some kind of circus freak." Ugh. Even saying those words makes me feel nauseated, because I'm worried it might be true.
"No, I'm not a circus freak! I'm special. That's a good thing. We're interesting."
I feel confused. Of course I'm right, but what I just thought doesn't quite fit how I feel or remember things. "Why do they see us that way? It's not my wings. Ponies either don't notice, or they pretend not to, and I really don't like thinking about how they see me at all."
"They see us that way because, because... Huh. Okay, that's weird. I don't know why we're special, but I know we are. I just remember it that way, and it fits."
"This is so weird. That feels like it makes perfect sense, but it doesn't. I guess anything makes more sense than this conversation," I admit. I can't argue with something that feels like it makes perfect sense, even when it clearly doesn't. I sit down on the couch because I'm feeling a little weak in the haunches. I open the envelope and unfold the letter. It looks exactly as I remember it from this very moment, as it happens. The memory I'm having matches the one I'm making at the same time.
The déjà vu feels exactly how I described it to myself, but I can tell this is something more. I remember the contents of the letter are important, but that's in the future. I haven't started reading it yet.
"Somehow I can sense what's about to happen! This is all really confusing, isn't it?" I say, stating the obvious.
"Yeah. I hope we feel better tomorrow." Then I begin to read the note:
Dear CMC Treasurer Scootaloo,
I'm super sorry Sweetie and I are sick today, Scoot. I know you say it's boring when we're not there. I had Applejack stop by your place to drop this letter off for me because I have news for you, but it's a secret. She doesn't know I'm telling you this, so keep the barn door shut for me if you know what I mean.
See, I overheard something AJ said to Granny, and I knew I had to share it with you right away...
"...because you're the Number One Rainbow Dash Fan In All Of Equestria," I say, but I'm not exactly reading it from the letter. My voice sounds each word out a fraction of a second before I read it with my eyes, like 'time' had a long hiccup or something. My heart begins pounding faster.
"Um, the words 'of' and 'in' should be lowercase," my thoughts tell me, I assume in an attempt to distract us from the scary feeling.
"They should be? We don't know that," I say.
"Sure we do! Can't you... I mean, can't I remember how to capitalize titles? We just did, didn't I?"
I pause for a moment. "Huh. I guess I can. You don't capitalize articles or prepositions with fewer than six letters, and... wow. That's strange. I've never remembered that before," I say, then pat the paper, "but I remember the letter before I can remember remembering it."
"Remembering... Wait, that's it, that's what's wrong! It's something about our memory. I think I have to remember something about... What year is it?"
"Year? Um... it's 1000 A.S., right? That's really hard to forget! Twilight Sparkle just moved to Ponyville a month ago, I think, and everypony's still gossiping about it."
"That can't be right. Twilight's been in town for more than one Winter Wrap-Up. Remember her organizing it the second year, and how much faster it went?"
I do remember. "Ohmygosh, I'm right! Okay, wow. Something's really wrong. We need to tell Amethyst when she shows up. Maybe we're sick," I say. "Oh! Maybe I hit my head, and that's why I'm confused? I don't remember how it got hurt."
"No, if I had a concussion I'd be dizzy, or really sick, or I'd have trouble seeing. It's probably just a headache, but I agree we need to tell Amethyst. What does the letter say?"
I look back down at the letter and pause. "I'll be honest with us, me. I don't want to read this again, and I don't want to remember why."
"I don't think we have a choice. We do read it, don't we? It's just what happens. Besides, we need to figure out what's going on here, and maybe the letter means something important."
"Can't I just remember on my own instead of asking me to remember for... well, for me? It's something about Rainbow Dash."
I pause for a moment to think about what I just said. I'm not sure I made any sense. "Okay... I can remember it a little, but I'm not sure my memory is accurate. Was it something about Smith Apple and Applejack? That's all that comes to me. Look, let's just just read it and get this over with already."
"I don't need to read it. We can remember the gist of what it, um, what it will have been," I say, hoping that made some sense to myself. I close the letter and set it aside without looking at it, because I realize I know it by heart. "Bloom tells me Applejack said something about 'baiting a cow to catch a calf' to Granny Smith, and it was right after meeting Dash's parents for the first time. AB thinks that means AJ's 'fixing to date'..." I say, then pause to let it sink in. "She's going to date Rainbow Dash?"
"Yeah, that sounds right. I think they're in a relationship, aren't they? I guess that means Rainbow is gay or em. I think she's gay. Applejack's gay, I know that much."
"Yeah, AB told me that a long time ago, and I felt weird then too... Hold on, what's 'em'?"
"Uh, it means multi. Or bi, or pan, or whatever. It used to be bisexual, but then ponies started saying 'pansexual' until that kind of became a hipster thing for unicorns who wanted to sound more 'enlightened'..."
I gasp and my limbs go stiff. "Rainbow Dash is LIMBOESE? Ohmygosh. My aunts are one too... and... um, something else..."
My mind clears its imaginary throat to get our attention back. "I don't think she's from Limbo, because you can't be born there and nopony goes there by choice. You mean 'lesbian', probably."
"I didn't know there was a city called Limbo, but right, lesbian. That's what the epiphany is, me!" I grin with pride, and then the grin disappears. "Oh. I realize... that maybe I'm gay too?" I ask, very uncertain. "Do I think I'm gay because I want to be like Rainbow Dash, or am I really in the lesbians? Or maybe I think I'm a colt, or something? I don't remember exactly. I just know it's something weird like that. I don't like thinking about this because it's still kinda scary."
"No, that's it! It's the colt thing, I'm sure of it. We're a colt," I say. "There's something more to it, though."
I don't want to get in a fight with myself over this, but that doesn't feel right at all. "I'm pretty sure we're... that I'm not a colt," I argue. "I'm not 'trans' or whatever it's called. I'm fine being a filly, I'm just a tomcolt, and that's a kind of filly not a kind of colt. Fillies can be anything they wanna be, so I don't need to be a colt, even if... even if I'm kinda like a boy, or if I like other girls. Wow. Saying that feels awkward."
"But sometimes it feels like it's the other way around, doesn't it? Like, I'm actually a colt, but sometimes I do girly things, and I'm okay with that because it doesn't make me a filly. And sure, we like fillies, or... mares...? Girls, or whatever. This is difficult to parse. Some of it makes perfect sense, but the rest of it doesn't line up right."
I squint and think really hard in order to ignore my thoughts so I can think better. "I think I can remember that too. Maybe I was a colt in my last life or something," I wonder aloud. "I'm not sure there's a huge difference unless we want to have babies or something, and I don't because I'm way too young. I don't even care if I get mistaken for a colt, I just do my own thing." I remember interactions with the other fillies and colts at school...
My mind is practically spinning. How does anypony understand stuff like this about themself, let alone themselves? Maybe I'll never figure it all out. But I was right that I'm fine being me.
...and then I start thinking about Apple Bloom, and her pretty freckles, and the cute way she likes to snort and spit out of one side of her mouth, though I guess that's probably gross but I don't care because, because... of something. "I don't understand it, but this feeling is embarrassing. I don't want to talk to myself about how I feel, let alone my family, but I know that's what happens next. I'm embarrassed for weeks after this even though my aunts help a lot. Things get better when I finally open up to my friends, but that takes a long time."
It makes sense, but I can't say anything. I'm just processing the confusion as best I can, so I'm going to let myself do the thinking for now.
I lean back in the couch as my heart and my minds (both the normal one and the annoying one) have a wild three-way pinewood derby race for Fastest Freakout. My head is throbbing again and I need to distract myselves. I can tell my inside voice is quiet because I'm starting to lose it, so I change the subject entirely. "Okay, enough stupid feelings, let's just look at the facts. Today happened already, all of this. It's history. This is a memory, me. But if this is in the past, how are we here? Where's the present?"
It takes me a moment to respond. "I'm having a hard time remembering when we're supposed to be," I say. "I think 'why I can't remember' is what I can't remember, but I can't remember. That's probably why I can't remember."
Oh my Stars this is so dumb. All this stupid talking is just making us—me, I mean—feel even more confused. One of me has to shut up and start doing something, and it might as well be 'this' me. "I almost want to take a nap until Amethyst gets here, but there's no way I can sleep right now. Maybe I should just try real hard to remember, even if it hurts."
I nod in agreement. "It's worth a shot."
So I close my eyes and try to concentrate on the future, as far out as I can still remember things. My head throbs painfully, just behind my right ear, and I grit my teeth. Where are our recent memories? It was warm outside when I came home, but I'm sure it isn't supposed to be anymore. Yes, that's right. It isn't Summer. I remember cold. Very cold. It wasn't supposed to be an early Winter, but the Wild doesn't follow pegasus schedules... Was I somewhere in the Wild?
I start to see an image in my mind. It's mostly white, but it's slowly growing clearer.
"Snow! There's snow everywhere, so I'm outside..." I say. I'm pretty sure I can remember being surrounded by trees, too. "It wasn't inside Ponyville. It's too early in the season for this much snow on the ground, because the weather team had planned the first big snowstorm for... February, I think. Thank Firefly, it's all rushing back to me!"
"Yes, we're right! It's Hearth's Warming Eve, isn't it?" I say. "And we're in... the Everfree Forest."
It's working! "We were looking for something... something to show Apple Bloom."
That was the key we needed.
I'm in the Everfree. It's very cold, but I'm wearing a warm winter coat and snowshoes. It's almost Sunset, so I can't stay long. Long shadows cast by the trees around me make everything look confusing and unfamiliar, especially with snow that comes all the way up to my ankles. I'm staying very close to the main path to be safe.
"There it is!", I whisper to myself, but this time it's not something I have any control over. To be honest, I'm not sure anything has been under my control. Both of me have felt a loss of... what does Twilight call it... agency, I think? It's been like that since I entered my house, but it's stronger here. This must be the me in the memory doing her own thing.
There are a few too many me's here, we think to myself.
I shake off that train of thought and look carefully at what I said I was seeing, and now I can see it too. "I'm right," I agree, and just to make sure I understand I found it, I point to a furry white patch blending in with the snow. Did that happen in the memory? I'm not sure. Anyway, the thing we're pointing at looks almost like a trap door on the surface of the snow, except it's made out of pure white fur. It's impossible to see unless you're looking right at it, so I must have really lucked out when I spotted it. "An actual winterchilla! I can't believe I found one!" I'm super excited, except I have a bad feeling at the same time. The bad feeling isn't part of the memory.
It's a very bad feeling. "I'm wrong... That's not a winterchilla, it's a snow snipe, and they're really dangerous!" I tell myself. "I need to stay away from that!"
"That's what it is? I don't know that right now, so I guess I have to grab it anyway. I think we want to impress Apple Bloom for some reason. It just looks like a little patch of fur. It can't see me, can it?" I ask me.
"Snipes sense shapes through sound and heat, and they always travel in pairs so they can react to anything threatening one of them. There must be another one nearby, and it's probably behind her—I mean, behind us, right now, here in the memory!"
I'm starting to feel like that tiny patch of fur might just be the tip of the iceberg, and I'm suddenly standing in the shade. The fur hasn't moved at all, but something behind me is casting a shadow. "Um, m-me, how b-big are snipes, exactly?" I whimper. "Oh colt."
"Nope nope nope nope nope. This is going to hurt us really bad, and we can't get away from it because it happens... because it happened this way, and it always happens this way, because that's just what happens. We hate this, me! We really, really hate this. We have to... we have to do something before we remember doing something dumb. I don't know how—"
I instinctively know I'm right, and as I babble to myself I can feel my muscles tensing even though they're clearly relaxed in the memory. I can feel both things at the same time and it's difficult to tell which is which. Before I can agree with myself out loud or try to stop myself, it strikes.
I feel an intense, searing pain stab the right side of my head. It's back far enough that I can't see what hits me, but I figure that's probably for the best.
The pain consumes all my attention, but even though it's completely overwhelming, it takes a long moment for the horrid feeling to register—not just with me, but with any of us. Pain this bad is a new experience I remember having, as I'm having it, right now. My brain needs to learn that something this extreme is actually pain. Pain this bad exists, I'm realizing. I'm underwater in an ocean of it and I'm about to take in a big lungful.
"Horse apples." That's all I have time to think as it sets in.
Despite the brief delay, my brain knows what to do before any of the rest of us do. I shock myself as I scream louder than I ever have in my life. It's so loud it hurts my own ears. I fall to the snowy ground, somehow having enough sense to pivot onto my back so the snow doesn't get in my face (must have been my past me's subconscious), and now I'm not sure where I am or why anything should hurt this bad.
I don't see anything, because my eyes are clenched shut. I know I should open them because I'm in danger, but I can't. "It hurts it hurts it hurts! Oh holy Celestia, it hurts so bucking much!" we all say, except it just comes out as more shrill screaming.
"Not this again, it's too much," I gasp. My voice is already horse from all the screaming. I must be misremembering what I just said, because it seems to come out of my memory's me-mouth, which doesn't make sense.
I don't think I can blame myself for being confused at this point.
I'm relieved—a tiny bit—as I hear hooves galloping through the snow toward me. Somepony is coming to save me, but it's not quick enough because I am in Tartarus.
"Figuratively, not literally," I say. Being pedantic again was an attempt at distraction from the pain. It did not work.
"We have to get out of here, please! I don't want to wait! Help me! Me, help!"
I try, but I can't control our body! The memory is too intense, and I'm paralyzed with an awful mix of suffering and fear. "I, I'm trying to, but it hurts so much!" I yelp.
"Go back... go back home... p-please... somepony," I whisper in desperation. My thoughts congeal like tiny rivulets of water percolating as hard as they can (which isn't very) through an unyielding matrix of porous, stone-like agony.
I think it's working, which is good, because it absolutely has to.
The hard ground beneath the snow quickly gets softer, and then...
...everything is warm again. I'm nude. I'm lying on my couch. The pain is a vague memory. It's still terrible, but it's just a memory now—a 'normal' one. I'm quivering like an abandoned puppy, willing the details to fade with every bit of myself I still have left.
Something about the puppy analogy makes us feel awful, so I disregard it. "Listen very closely, me. Never, ever remember that event again," I tell myself, as though there were any chance of me not agreeing with me. "I guess 'remembering' is okay in general, but no detail. Please. I can't take that again, we just can't."
I pant deeply for about a minute, and then I finally sit up. The memory fades further. I'm starting to think my brain filled in some of the mental gaps during the experience, because I'm pretty sure something about the pain I experienced must have been erased the first time around.
I respond to the thought going through our mind. "Maybe we're right. I didn't think our imagination could be that vivid, but memory is reconstructive in nature, so it's plausible," I suggest. "We were looking for a winterchilla to... impress Apple Bloom? Something like that. We found a snipe, and then..."
My head still hurts, but the pain is heavily muted now. The fear from the experience is the thing that still haunts us. "Then the bad thing. Look, we're not thinking about that ever again. Never, ever, ever. I don't even want to talk about it."
"I'm not trying to stress us out, but we need to at least get the basic facts down, okay? Snipes avoid conflict if they aren't threatened, so they probably left right after... after that. I'm sure I heard somepony racing toward me after we screamed."
"Yeah, me too," I said, shivering against the couch. "So... what does this all mean? Are we still in danger?"
I shook my head. (I wasn't sure I could control my body like that until now, but I didn't seem to mind.) "We should be safe. I know that snipe venom isn't deadly, don't ask me how, and whoever arrived probably took us to safety," I explained. "But we shouldn't be having hallucinations of memories at all, so there's clearly something wrong."
"Could we be asleep, maybe?" I ask. "Or like, really unconscious." I look down at the couch and see the letter. We're back in the previous memory again, apparently.
"The letter. This, um, 'epiphanic moment' we went through... I think it happened a few years before the place we were, unless we're bouncing around in time or something," I say. "I don't know why we're here again. I don't think this is a dream, though. It's still too vivid."
"Oh! My dreams have been this vivid when Princess Luna visited them. Could she be here?"
"I doubt it. I don't think she would have let us have that nightmare from before, and even if she showed up late she'd have revealed herself to see if we're alright," I argue.
"So we got stung and it sent us, like, into the past or something? I don't understand any of this! What is happening?!" I notice I'm hyperventilating. I try to relax, but it's difficult. This is too much to take in, and I'm not helping things.
I don't feel as nervous as I sound, but the nervous tension in my body is something I can definitely sense. It's slowly easing. I try to think more about where exactly we're trapped. "Let's try to calm down a little. Help me think this through," I say.
I take a deep breath and try to center myself. At the same time, I look down at my haunch. It's blank. That definitely seems wrong. Didn't I end up getting my cutie mark? I could have sworn that happened.
I'm pretty sure I can tell what I'm thinking about, so I respond. "This memory should be from before I got my mark," I point out. "If I eventually get one, I don't remember what it looks like, or even what it means. It feels like I've never had one, even though I'm sure I've always wanted one. Maybe that's just because of when we are, since we shouldn't know anything about it when this memory takes place."
"Our cutie mark... Oh, I do remember a little! I'm not sure what it looks like exactly, but I know it looks like Apple Bloom's and Sweetie Belle's," I say, grinning. "We'll all end up getting them at the same time, which is super cool! I don't remember why we end up getting them, but it's hard to remember things right now, especially when they haven't happened yet. From this point in history or whatever. I don't mind if we remember something like that again, though. I'm sure there were no snipes involved."
Something is nagging at me. "Am I certain this is even the same memory? Or did I keep the letter, and this is just real life again... with a confusing brain problem?" I ask myself.
I ponder that, leaning back against the couch. "I don't think I'd leave it on the couch for years, so let me think." It takes a moment, but some of the details come back to me. "Okay, I kept it for a little bit, then I ended up tearing it up and throwing it away. I was worried somepony might find it," I say. "I don't think I was worried about the secret in the letter, I think I was just embarrassed to have it. I don't remember a lot of details after reading it, though. I remember feeling weird and putting the letter in my desk for a while, but the rest is just a blur. I don't feel like I have to read the letter again or go through the motions or whatever now that I remember what was in it, so it makes sense this would feel real now, but I think we're still in the past."
"Cool. Maybe we can just do whatever we want now? We should be careful about altering the past, but we both feel like this isn't real life. Everything is too weird," I say. "Hay, earlier you said this memory was from 1000 Anno Solequus, and we're pretty sure years have passed since then. So, here's a question: how old should we be in this memory?"
"This year I think we turn eleven, because we were born in 989. I'll end up having a big birthday party for the first time ever, and it'll be great," I say. "Why does my age matter?"
I grin, but my body doesn't obey this time. "It matters because I have an idea. We should try looking into a mirror. We might remember being older than we look, because it's got to be later than 1000 A.S., and anything that jogs our memories without taking us back to the forest is a better idea than being stuck here. At least we should be safe in this memory, unless we're forgetting something awful."
"I don't think anything as bad as that snipe has ever happened to us," I say, then I think about looking in the mirror. There's a full-length mirror on the inside of the hallway bathroom door, but it has a crack in it from where I punched it last year. I don't remember why I did that, but I hate looking into the mirror because of how pathetic my wings are, so I just keep the bathroom door open all the time. I guess that's gross, but it's not like anypony else lives here with me. I told Amethyst that the crack in the mirror was an accident, but she told my aunts and—
"Hay, me! Stay with myself, okay? Are we going to the mirror or not?"
"Sorry, lost in thought. A different thought. I have too many thoughts," I think out loud. "You're right, the mirror's a great idea, let's go!"
"Weird. I don't feel lost in thought. Am I part of your thoughts? I hope I'm not like, part of your imagination, or lost inside it. That's kind of scary to think about," I say as we get off the couch. This time it feels like I'm doing it. "I'm not sure how being lost in myself would work."
"I'm not sure how anything works right now." Okay, we're cantering to the bathroom. I'd rather gallop, but the last time I did that I slipped on some trash in the hallway and hurt myself and pain is not my friend today. I enter the bathroom and grab the edge of the door with my hoof.
My mind takes a deep, slow, cleansing breath before we close the bathroom door, which is weird because my body doesn't do it, but it almost does... I think. This is a very unusual day.
This is very unusual day. "Oh. I think I just thought that twice in a row. I hope we're not crazy."
"Don't get our hopes up." I feel a little bad about being sarcastic, but it helps me shut the door and face the dreaded mirror.
Scootaloo breathes a sigh of relief, and I wipe my forehead with the front of my pastern. No, I mean the back. No, that can't be right either. The hoof bends forward, and it faces forward when I'm standing with four hooves on the ground, so that part is clearly the 'front', and the 'front' we're thinking of must be the underside of the hoof? But nopony calls the frog the 'front' of your hoof... do they?
I shake off the strange mental orientation of my hoof. There are so many weird sensations in us right now I don't think I can focus on all of them, and it's probably just a fluke. "Okay, that's interesting. I think it looks like we're a little older than we should be in 1000 A.S.," says my inner me, "but at least it's normal. I was worried this would get even weirder."
This time I can tell I'm wrong, even though I don't know it yet. It did get weirder. "Hold on. I need to figure this hoof thing out, me. I think it's important." I look at my hoof in the mirror and I'm still confused about where the 'front' is. Okay, think hard, Scootaloos. Even though it faces forward, I want to call the front part the back of my hoof, because I call the underside, the palm the front, since it faces outward when I'm using it while standing on two legs. "I have a palm. What's a palm? I should have a frog..." I lean in for a closer look, even though I can see my reflection clearly. The figure in the mirror leans in exactly the same way, so it must be me, but...
I'm not sure what's going on right now, but I'll let myself drive. I'm clearly on to something.
This isn't right at all! Since when does a pegasus filly look like... a little purple dragon? And why am I standing on two legs in the mirror when I'm on four in...
"What's wrong?" I ask us. The pegasus filly in the mirror's mouth doesn't move.
"I think... I'm not... actually me," I say, struggling to put it into words. "Am I me, or is the mirror broken? Like, I know it's cracked. I mean, is it really, truly broken, as in, it doesn't show the same thing you put in front of it..."
"We're Scootaloo, right? I look like Scootaloo to us. Although we were thinking something about balancing on two hooves, and it feels like we are. But I guess I'm on all fours, because that's what I see? Except..." I say, and my voice trails off as I look down at our legs. "No, that's not right. When I look down, I see two legs, so I must be standing up. And they're purple. That's crazy! We must be right; I'm just confused. Maybe I need to relax more and try looking in the mirror later."
I gasp, and I feel blood rush into my face. "No, me! We're not right! Standing up isn't when you're on two hooves! That's rearing. Four on the floor is standing up," I say, but the bipedal fact staring back at me from the mirror disagrees with me. Her... no, his...(?) scaly purple muzzle isn't moving when I talk, so it must be somepony else. But when I lean this way and that, she/he matches my movements like they're copying me just to be funny.
Then I remember his name.
"Spike!" I shout, and I realize that's who this is in the mirror. "Wait, I'm Spike?! The dragon? Twilight's assistant?"
"That's it! Yes! That's what I needed to remember! I'm... I'm Spike... and while I'm not exactly her assistant, I really don't want to think about that right now, for some reason. But I'm seeing Scootaloo in the mirror, not Spike. I mean, I see a pegasus filly that looks the way Scootaloo should look in a couple of years," I tell us. "I guess that settles it. We're obviously crazy and need professional help. We have to go to Ponyville General for a psychiatric evaluation, Spike—Scootaloo—whoever we are."
I'm ready to agree with myself, but watching the dragon in the mirror fascinates me. I think I remember seeing this in the mirror before, which means I should be Spike, but it's far too unfamiliar to be real. When I move my head, Spike moves his head the same way. It's me doing the moving, but when I look down at my hooves, they're still hooves...
This time I'm the one with the idea for an experiment. I don't understand where the idea came from, though. It feels much smarter than me. It's still my idea, isn't it? It doesn't feel like... 'other me' gave it to me. I only get a general sense of what I'm thinking when I'm another me. I think.
Okay, I'm not sure.
"I need to try something," we both say in unison.
I experimentally wave at myself. Spike waves back in an identical motion, or at least it would be if my leg was all weird like his fore—
"It's 'were', not 'was'. Subjunctive mood," I correct my own thoughts. "I think we just thought that, right? When you're speaking, or I guess thinking, in the hypothetical—"
"Stop doing that!" I say, and frown angrily. Spike frowns back, but I notice his mouth doesn't form the words I said. It only moves when I feel more like I'm not the one talking.
"Sorry, sorry. Force of habit from Twilight correcting me," says the Spike in the mirror. "Frowning feels weird and it doesn't match my mood... no, scratch that, it does. I'm feeling angry about being constantly corrected, which makes no sense because I'm the one being pedantic... right?"
"Look, it's fine. We're under stress," I point out, noticing again how the mirror's mouth moves when other-me talks, but when I see me talk, it doesn't. It looks just like I'm Scootaloo talking to Spike through a mirror portal, but it doesn't feel that way. "Spike, is that really you? Are you inside my heart, or something?"
"I think we mean brain," Spike says. No... it's not Spike saying it. It still feels more natural to think of us as a 'me', so maybe we're both saying it, in a way. I need to apologize to ourself, though. "Oh, shoot. Sorry again. I swear I don't mean to nitpick. But yeah, it has to be Spike, even though it makes no sense because I can remember going to the schoolhouse today, and Spike doesn't go there. I mean, I don't go there, I think."
"Right, same feeling here. I want to call you Spike, but I can't. You're just too... 'me' to be a 'you'," I say, then I study his/our face the mirror. "What was the experiment we just did for?"
I think about telling myself to try to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition, stop myself from doing that, then realize I already know what I just thought so it happened implicitly. Fortunately I can tell it's not my fault, so I don't blame me, which is nice. "Did we both decide to wave at the same time? I mean, did you see Spike wave, too? I think I sense you see Spike and I see Scootaloo, right? I saw you wave exactly like I did, except with my... with your pastern."
"Yeah. That was me-me doing it, though, that wasn't you-me. Right?"
The filly in the mirror raises a brow, and I respond. "Are you sure? I'm certain I came up with the idea for the test."
The guy in the mirror has a point, because after a little more thought, we're not so sure after all. Trying to base knowledge off of feelings is very challenging. We suspect this is why I hate feelings. "I guess it makes sense you'd think it up and maybe I got confused. But I was definitely the one who decided to wave like that." Mirrorspike wiggles his forepaw oddly and makes a funny face, because I make me do it. "See what I just did?"
"The weird wiggle and the funny face? I just did that. It was my decision, I'm 100% positive. There's no way we're deciding to do exactly the same mirror-opposite actions at the same time!"
Is that even possible? "But what if we are? We both think we're controlling us-self. Maybe it's just some kind of strange coincidence?" I scrunch my muzzle up out of curiosity, and it looks weird and unnatural to see a little dragon do it.
"Ugh. Not sure why I decided to scrunchface. That feels really weird," I reply, rubbing my face with my claws. "A coincidence of this magnitude is impossible, but I guess all of this is impossible in the first place, so I shouldn't be surprised. What do we think is happening here? Is this some kind of mind-altering magic? That kind of magic is forbidden, for obvious reasons..."
"Um, then we must be dreaming," I suggest. "I mean, I don't know what else this could be. It's just too weird. Even dreams make more sense than this, but I'm out of ideas."
"That makes some sense, but this is way too realistic. We'd be awake by now because we're too lucid and there isn't a dreamwalker with us. I don't think dream-selves can get tangled up like this, either," I say. "We already decided Princess Luna isn't around, and she probably would be by now. If this were a dream, it'd be really obvious in the Dreamtime. Dreams like this immediately catch her attention."
"Do you mind if I open the door?" I both say, as it might be rude but I'm getting unnerved by staring at mynotself. We open it together.
"Weird. It's like we share the same mind when we take an action, or something. We need to see Twilight."
"I don't think we can. This is a memory too, right?" I say, feeling unusually insightful. "I don't think I remember talking to Twilight about this."
"We didn't look in the mirror in the original memory either, though! But that doesn't require much imagination, and anything we get from Twilight would probably just be us making it up as we go," I say. "So these were both memories... Wait! Maybe that's why Spike is here? Twilight sent Spike to Scootaloo somehow?"
"Maybe because I got injured by that snipe thing," I say, and shudder at even the suggestion of the memory. Our head hurts again, and I gently rub it with my hoof.
"That must be it. The venom wouldn't normally put me into a coma, but it's magical in nature. It's supposed to paralyze, not cause pain..." I explain. "Maybe... we had an allergic reaction to it or something. Or maybe where it stung us let it get into the brain? Maybe it wasn't even a snipe that got us, because we didn't see it! We don't know pony anatomy or medicine as well as Twilight, so it's useless to speculate."
I nod. "So, maybe it's like we're asleep, but we're not dreaming?"
"If we were just asleep Twilight would have had Princess Luna help instead, or you'd be resting somewhere and I wouldn't need to be here. So either Luna is dealing with an even bigger emergency, which is why she isn't here right now, or we're not connected to the Dreamtime at all," I said. "This is a pretty bad sign. I could be critically ill right now."
"Not you. You're not sick, I am. I mean, if I'm the Scootaloo and you're the Spike. You know what I mean," I say, though I'm not even sure what we mean. "Maybe all of us are in danger, though. It could be like one of those movies where dying in a dream kills you in real life, or something. I don't want me to risk myself, you, if... if Spike is in danger. Colt, this is so confusing."
"I don't remember anything about this, though. I should remember if I came here to help you. We know one of us was trying to remember that we're Spike, but that's all I can dredge up."
"Hay, can we try what we did before? We should try to remember the last thing Spike can remember." I feel my haunches twitch. "Unless... unless it's like before. I can't do that again. We have to be sure it's safe this time."
We nod slowly to each other. "This is important. I think we need to try, but if there's any trouble, we do everything we can to come back here again. Let's go to the couch first," I say, and we walk there together and sit down.
"Wow. We're doing this, aren't we? Ugh, I hope this doesn't hurt. If you see white fur, you gotta bail out immediately, unless it's Sweetie Belle. Or Rarity. Or Opalescence. Or Prin—"
"We get it, we get it," I say, then close our eyes and focus. "I don't want to be in severe pain either, but we don't think anything like that happened to Spike." I try to sound more certain than we are, but I'm sure I know that I'm bluffing.
"J-just be real careful." I try to hide the fear, but I'm sure I know that I'm bluffing. I keep my eyes closed, and I'm starting to sense it...
I think we remember. "I was summoned... no, teleported directly to the hospital. We both were. I don't mean us, us, I mean Twilight and Spike went together. That's where we are right now." I start to hear talking that isn't us, but it's very faint, and slowly getting louder. I can tell it isn't far away. It's right beside us, but somedraggy has to turn the volume knob up first, which is what I'm trying to do.
"We're getting closer... and I can remember too! I... you... Spike arrived at the ER, and then the Princess was talking to us..."
I'm standing next to my bed, seeing... me, with an IV and oxygen mask on. I feel a twinge of empathy for myself. I was right: this isn't good. I can tell from how pale my eyelids look. My ears seem unusually limp, even for a sleeper.
"...shouldn't be the one to do this. He's brave and capable, but I don't want him assuming the risk if anypony else can do it," says Twilight. We're talking to Zecora. The fifth person in the room is a unicorn stallion dressed as a physician. He looks grumpy.
"Princess, I would be remiss not to object to this," says the doctor.
"I'm sorry, Zecora. They're not going to let a kid risk his life in a hospital," says Twilight.
I look right at Zecora. "I'm okay doing this," I tell her, then I look up to Twilight. "Really. I know you're worried about me, but this is what I want. I want to help her."
The doctor clears his throat. "That's not what I meant. We all take necessary risks here, because this is a hospital. I mean this... forgive the language, but 'mumbo-jumbo' about connecting consciousnesses. I will not allow a naturopath..."
"Zecora isn't a naturopath, doctor! She's a shaman," says Twilight. "She studies the magical sciences."
In response, Zecora holds out her staff and the tip pulses with energy. "I do not wish to sound unkind, but there is science to 'the mind'," she says.
"Oh. But... you're a zebra. How are you doing magic?" asks the doctor. "You don't have a horn..."
"There are many kinds of magic, Doctor. Zecora is one of my personal mentors. She taught me most of what I know about alchemy and mana channeling."
"I... really?" he says, then turns to Zecora and sighs. "Ma'am... Doctor, um, Shaman..."
" 'Zecora' is fine; please don't waste our time." The zebra offers a slight smile.
"Yes, yes, of course. I apologize for prejudicial assumptions," he replies, his ears slouching forward. "If the Princess vouches for your work, I have no objections. What can I do to help?"
"If we do this at all, somepony will need to go under. You should prep them as though they were in a magistatic enthrallment, just like Scootaloo here," says Twilight, and then she leans down to speak with me, face to face.
"Sis, you know I can do this," I say, hoping the public familiarity will tell her how serious I am. Neither of me have to be the one to say it, though. It's more like we're watching a realistic movie, or something.
She smiles weakly. "Spike, you know I have total faith in you, but we should get Rainbow Dash."
Zecora clears her throat. "My dear Princess, it must be Spike," she intones, "even if it's not to your like. He is uniquely capable of managing the damage toll."
Twilight sighs. "You mean a dragon has a stronger constitution? If this will endanger him physically, I can't allow it. Mental trauma is bad enough. I can't do it myself unless there's no other option because of responsibilities I have, should it take an extended time. But I'll take the risk before I let Spike do it."
"Mental trauma?" asks the doctor. "What does this procedure entail, if I may inquire?"
Once again I speak up automagically, because we have no reason to stop ourself from a cold read of the 'script'. (I'd rather be watching this as a movie in real life than reliving it, but the experience is still kind of neat... as long as there are no snipes in this one.) "Scootaloo needs to confront unresolved issues she has, psychologically speaking, before she'll wake up," I explain. "The nature of the magic—"
"—connects mind and body, I understand," he interrupts me. Zecora momentarily glares at the doctor, but I don't think he notices.
We didn't see what Twilight did, and we try to move our neck but it stutters in place instead. "I can't do that," we point out to myself, speaking only in our mind. "Either way, if we didn't see it, then our brain—I'm not sure whose—would have to make stuff up to fill in the gaps, which isn't reliable."
"You're really smart, me," I say, feeling humbled because I'm not smart like myself. Then I feel weird for feeling humbled, because I just complimented ourself and that's not exactly a humble thing to do, now is it?
"Is—" we begin to ask, but we already know what I will say, so it's not rude to get interrupted by myself. I guess we were all thinking about that, probably because the doctor was rude to memory-me just now. It's different, though. He isn't us.
I shake my head and whisper back to me mentally, "Nah. I'm fine being less clever than my friends. We're good at lots of other stuff, so we don't think I need to resolve that," I confirm.
Wait. Zecora is talking now. "Oh no, pay attention!" I mind-shout to us in order to refocus ourself.
"...young pegasus whose pelt is orange," she concludes to the astonished stare of both Twilight and the doctor, then continues before they can say anything. "But no, something inside our friend will help connect whose mind we send. The problem is Scoot's memories. For when Spike interfaces these, his recall will entangle hers. Any-pony would make things worse," she explains, with a mixing motion of her forehooves as she rears up tall. "For it may not be possible to disentangle minds in full, but all their similarities will buffer changes such as these."
Twilight blinks a few times, having apparently delayed processing Zecora's last statement. "Zecora, are you saying Spike is more like Scootaloo than Rainbow Dash is? That's a little hard to believe."
"Don't say that out loud, she might wake up," I say in the memory. And I also say it, and so does 'he', because it's what all three (at least) of us are thinking. "Er, I mean it might upset her, wherever she is right now. Scootaloo doesn't idolize me like she does Dash."
"Oh. I get it! That's why Zecora thinks it needs to be you, Spike," says Twilight, frowning. "Scootaloo puts Rainbow on a pedestal, like she's some sort of god..."
"Well... that's because she basically is!" we blurt out loud... but in the memory!
Internally, I feel us wince. "Uh-oh. Did we just change the past, or something else bad?"
"I don't think anypony noticed," I say, and exhale. "That makes sense, I guess. I mean, we can't remember them doing stuff they didn't do, so they're not going to pay attention if we do something different. It'll just be harder to follow what's going on."
Twilight keeps talking, and we pick up what she's saying at, "...can't identify with her internally. But I don't understand what Scootaloo and Spike have in common either, besides both of them being young and close allies of Harmony. Can you explain?"
"The truth? Ask Spike. I shall not say. Just trust me, it must be this way," says Zecora. All of me are impressed by how quickly she can rhyme like that. Then she turns to the doctor. "Please pull up an adjacent bed and prepare Spike, as Twilight said."
"What is it? What do I have in common?" I ask myself. "You're the Spike part, right?"
"I don't know the answer to any of those questions. I mean, we aren't very close, are we? Spike knows you less than the other Crusaders because we spend more time with Rarity and Applejack than Rainbow Dash."
I furrow my imaginary brow in thought, which may or may not be scaly. "Well, we're pretty close right now! Maybe we don't need to know what the deal is, though. Zecora's honest, but... maybe she has another reason for sending me in to help me."
"I sense it too. She's being catty about the real reason, probably because she thinks it will help us be successful if Spike doesn't know the details. But we might need to figure it out for Spike, at least. If Scootaloo needs to 'resolve' things, maybe Spike needs to, too? I don't think we can afford to take chances with either of me."
The doctor speaks up. "I'll set up the equipment myself, and start the IV for him—no, wait. I need to contact the dragon expert here on staff, if she's on call. I have no idea how to access a usable vein, or if there are other concerns I need to be aware of."
"I can show you," says Twilight, and we wince at the thought. I climb into the bed the doctor rolls up, and I lie on my back. My tail twitches nervously.
"Why does an IV bother us? Needles are the one thing Scootaloo isn't afraid of, which is pretty weird. Is Spike afraid of needles?" I say.
"Nope, because they can't hurt me, at least not my skin. But remember how she does it?"
I pause for a moment, and unfortunately I do. "Oh. Bleah! Gross and awful. Ick. No. I'm not even supposed to have that part, unless I'm him, and even then, yuck, ow, yikes, no way. We need to bail again. I mean, it's not a snipe sting, but still."
"Eh, it isn't that bad. Anyway, Twilight knows how to cast Somnus, which puts anypony to sleep as long as they're willing. She'll probably put me to sleep before prepping the line, and I think that happens about—"
This feels... empty. "Where... where are I?"
