-The Get Chapter 1-

Dec 26th, 2013
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  1. -The Get Chapter 1-
  3. It's a dark, cold night with the wind going full-force against your windows. The rain endlessly rattles off the glass, occasionally being blown forcefully with a strong gust. You sit inside though, cosy and warm at your PC not giving a shit about outside. There's excitement in the air, and you hate yourself for it. You can't lie to yourself though, you're hyped. Tonight's the night of the 20 mil Get.
  5. It's stupid, really. Getting so worked up over repeating digits. They hold no real significance, just an excuse to get fired up and post absolute garbage. It's already started, you can feel the traffic on the board begin to pick. Joining on this shit-post parade, you spent most of your time randomly dumping images until slowly the gap closes to 5000 posts. The board is now going mental, and refreshing the catalog only just proves how frantically threads are being bumped. In a shameful, sad way, you wanted to be the one to secure the 20 mil post. Why though? It's not really an achievement, and no one will really remember you for it. In a odd way, is it attention-seeking? To do something that makes others react?
  7. You pause for a moment, closing your eyes and leaning back in your chair. You have a short reminisce about the time you've wasted on this silly board, and how nice it'd be if you could just get your small 15 minutes of fame without doing anything requiring effort.
  9. Wouldn't that be good?
  11. -
  13. With a sigh, you slowly escape your reverie. Over-analyzing the motivation behind a Get won't help anything, besides, surely it's over by now? You start mashing F5 like there's no tomorrow. What's the gap now? Shit, only 100 posts left. Your stomach lurches. Why is this suddenly so important to you?
  15. Assuming all is lost and feeling mildly ashamed of the creeping disappointment of missing the Get, you halfheartedly upload an image of Rarity with the text simple text "Best pone". It's quickly lost in a flood of nonsensical posts. The board is being pumped so hard with traffic right now, and the stormy weather definitely isn't helping things. Your old friend F5 is now just returning a white page, forever displaying the loading spinner. Giving up, you close the tab and decide to get ready for bed.
  17. Walking through the hallway to the bathroom is a cold journey. The wind has been sneaking up through the wooden flooring, silently leaking through the cracks. You hate this rickety bungalow, only ever staying in your room because it's the only part that can contain constant, glorious heat. The Bathroom is no exception, with the icy tiles chilling and nipping away at your feet. Looking in the mirror while brushing, you begin to feel ashamed again for wanting a stupid post number so badly. You look at yourself directly in the eyes, wondering. While not toned or particularly active, you're not really fat. Just average build. Pretty tall though, with run-of-the-mill brown eyes. Can you improve?
  19. Pitiful. Spitting the toothpaste with perhaps a little more force then necessary, you feel internally defeated and just want to stop thinking. Clicking the bathroom light off before being baptized by chilly winds again, you return to your room.
  21. -
  23. You retake the chair by falling with your full weight, cursing the needless desire to re-browse the board. You've been gone for like 2 seconds, what could possibly have changed?
  25. Now sitting half-naked in your PJs you mumble as your fingers automatically type "mlp" into the web address bar. It's still slow loading, but actual images are appearing now. Sure enough, a quick scroll shows that every post is roughly "HOLY SHIT >>20000000", derailing every thread imaginable. You smile. It's frowned upon, but you love the shitstorms people create over events like this. Might as well see who got the Get. If you recall correctly, Octavia got 15 mil, Vinyl got the 10 mil. You click on one of the many cross-thread links.
  27. Still being rather slow, the page begins to load in blocks, constantly scrolling all up the screen causing you to fight with it. After about 20 seconds of this, you finally see the blue-wall that is replies to >>20000000.
  29. And holy shit. It's Rarity. Accompanied by the text "Best pone".
  31. Your ears begin to ring and you flush with color. Laughter bursts out your chest. You actually did it. You had acquired repeating digits. Your shame is subdued over the triumph of rousing every poster. The shitposting is maximum.
  33. This feeling of pride - while really unfounded - truly feels fantastic. Without a moment to lose, you try to form a reply post to your Get. Why? Because you wanted to add more fuel to this full-out shitstorm.
  35. However, when entering the post, all stops. Everything is cast into darkness.
  37. -
  39. The oddest feeling begins. The physical world dissolved, and suddenly you feel suspended, even floating, while still - you believed - sitting in your chair. Slowly, the surrounding air begins to compress around you making your hair to lie flat against your skull and causing your ears to protest with extremely uncomfortable popping.
  41. The fear begins to set. This is a suffocating, drowning experience, yet breathing itself doesn't actually seem to be a problem. The looming darkness that is now your captor feels like it's beginning to squeeze further, threatening a claustrophobic reaction. Highly alarmed and on the verge of shouting and screaming, you pathetically flail against nothing thrashing as hard as you can. This only reveals that the darkness is getting ruthlessly denser, as if submerged in cruel waters that prosper on panic. Eyes now wide open, darting frantically for the tiniest hint of light or, hell, any stimulus that makes sense of this situation. Nothing. You are totally blind, detached from any sense beyond crushing darkness. Okay, struggling to breathe now, this is a problem. Wildly you come to the conclusion that breathing in the darkness has caused your lungs to collapse. None of the precious air you desperately try to suck up is getting anywhere, only causing a horrible constricted feeling against your ribs. What's happening?
  43. Suddenly, a new sensation shocks you.
  45. -
  47. The feeling of colliding with something that's both resistant and spongy reels your mind back to a semi-rational plain. It feels too insanely massive to just be a coincidental collision. The illusion of safety is instantly shattered though, as you are pushed further into this strange force. Is this some kind of "end" to the darkness? Is this dying? You don't understand anything, and can't keep your rational composure any longer. This needs to end. Your lungs are beginning to burn fiercely, and you can feel the relentless torrent of blood pumping through you throbbing painfully in your neck. Even your heart is scared shitless as it bangs around. Screwing your face up you try to scream again. No sound; no breath escapes. You are now choking and suffocating as this thick, spongy membrane absorbs you. Once in its grasp, you know escape is impossible.
  49. Breaking point, as stress begins taking its toll on body and mind. Vomiting might have been an appropriate option once, but nothing can escape in this vacuum. It could only be described as being trapped in a sealed plastic bag, with someone sucking all the air out; completely trapped in the peristalsis of darkness. Struggling did nothing. Screaming did nothing. Nothing mattered anymore. You wanted it to end.
  51. Just as it got too much - it ended. You seem to break through the tight rubber-tube experience. Next thing you know, you're coming back to consciousnesses on cold white & grey tiles in a brightly-lit environment.
  53. -
  55. You lie face-down, eyes closed, enduring the harsh string of cold tiles emanating through your chest. However, before another thought manages to squeeze through your battered head, you need to barf. Badly. No time to react or escape to a suitable place, as it quickly creeps up before getting intolerable. You feebly push yourself up, pointing down just as the torrent of spew gracefully flows. It hits the ground with a rather impressive smacking sound.
  57. You pause for a moment, making sure there wasn't going to be an encore. Sharp prickling begins to dominate your throat. Satisfied that your stomach is empty, you roll over - avoiding the fresh pile - panting for air, forcing your eyes shut. You feel absolutely awful. Pale, sweaty and shaking quite visibly, lying in your bathroom next to your gut-juice. Did you have a rough night? It's all so unclear now. Were you even drinking at all? God it's freezing.
  59. You can hear the nearby 'plip-plop' of - you assume - the dripping bath tap, your mind drowning it out with a puny attempt to understand what you'd just experienced. Darkness and compression. Did you fall asleep in the bath and drown? Sure feels like it. Nothing rational could explain. So many questions. No answers. Your breathing slows down, making it abundantly clear that the dripping tap has gotten louder. Actually, beyond that and your beating heart, there is no sound here at all. Wasn't it storming outside? In fact, why is this place so brig-
  61. "Hello there, Poster!"
  63. -
  65. Head spinning, you open bleary eyes that are pierced by a harsh light. Rubbing them gently, you make out the blurry outline of someone standing over you. A rather large someone.
  67. Fuck. Did your mom just find you piss-ass drunk, collapsed in your bathroom next to some vomit? This was toe-curling-tier humiliation. Rather thickly, you call out
  69. "Whadd'd you call me, moms?"
  71. You hear a rather royal chortle before a patient throat-clearing. The plip-plopping stops.
  73. As the world slowly comes into focus you can now clearly see a white figure staring down at you with wings spread in an embracing manner. Gradually, you realize it wasn't drips making the 'plip-plop' sound, but rather it was the 'clip-clop' of... someone walking over to greet you.
  75. Your Heart slams against your ribs. Eyes practically popping, jaw agape, stomach fluttering, you bolt up-right. How was this even possible?
  77. "I called you Poster, my subject." she says again with a soothing voice, though a small smile breaks the corners of her mouth. "It is how we address those who have traveled here in a similar manner to you."
  79. "Similar to me?" you sheepishly repeat. This was great, just fuckin' brilliant. Here you sit on these freezing tiles, overcoming the ills of a ferocious fever. You've been sick, your brain beaten and bruised, you're half-naked in only your PJ bottoms shivering, all the while next to the colorful mess you've made. Only to be found by none other than Princess Celestia.
  81. -
  83. What the hell was going on? Princess Celestia isn't real, yet the contradicting truth is slap-bang right in front of you, looking at you with what could only be described as sympathy.
  85. "Judging by your attire and accompanying mess, it's not completely irrational to conclude you were unaware of the significance of a milestone post? Then again, none have been." she chortles. Internally you feel a scornful rise at being treated like an idiot while in such an fragile state - no less by a cartoon equine. You find your voice, though it's trembling with emotion.
  87. "You're not real."
  89. Celestia's smile is no longer concealed, but instead grows across her face. Not in a cruel way, but in a rather patronizing one. It's as if you'd just stated that 2+2=5. She's probably heard that she doesn't exist countless times.
  91. "Why can't I be real, Poster?" she asks, as though having a friendly debate about the weather. "I'm living, breathing, speaking and walking, am I not?" a knowing smile now prominent on her face. She was clearly quite enjoying herself.
  93. You pause, trying to think of a flawless reply to the debate. However only the words "cause ur a faggot" come to your exhausted mind. Not the best rebuttal, you decide. Was there any way to appear less pathetic in this situation? Nothing is coming to mind. You hopelessly look up at the fantastically white alicorn, her flowing, multi-toned mane sailing out behind her. Time for a quick change of subject.
  95. "Why... why did you call me here? Where am I?"
  97. -
  99. The answer to the 2nd question was obvious - you were in Canterlot Castle, and not your bathroom floor as previously believed. You only wished your bathroom had this amazingly high roof with beautifully clear stained-glass windows.
  101. "I'll tell you all in due time, Poster. Are you able to stand at the moment?" she coos down, making your face flush an even brighter red.
  103. Can you stand? Maybe. Legs are shaky but you're over most of shock now with the biting cold being the biggest issue. Maybe if you refuse, it'll destroy this dream.
  105. You remain sitting, looking up at Celestia. After a few moments of silence she closes her eyes, still smiling. Her gentle expression told you this wasn't this first time someone had refused to comply. Just as you attempt to speak, suddenly you're pulled up into the air by a unseen force quickly identified as Celestia's magic. She carefully places you upright on your feet which make a soft slapping noise as they meet the floor. More magic flows from her horn to deal with your 'arrival present' puddle. It sparkles for a few seconds before disappearing.
  107. "Not the worst accident we've had, you'll be happy to hear." Celestia says comfortingly. "The 2nd Poster's arrival left quite a few stains." This attempt at small talk was unbearable at this present moment. You have an internal struggle of questions and anguish. What was going on? Why weren't you at home? And most of all, how do you return?
  109. You decide to walk and talk with Celestia.
  111. -
  113. Opening your mouth to speak, only chattering mumbles escape your throat due to the cold penetrating your very bones. The tiled floor, paired with the grand stone walls, don't keep in much heat. Sure, you're used to your cold rickety bungalow but this was too much. Currently the only real heat source is your burning face, but that doesn't properly warm you. You suppose Celestia doesn't mind this low temperature because of her fine, pure white coat. Wait, Celestia...?
  115. Taking a proper look, there's no mistake. From eye-level, she's perhaps a bit shorter than you, but her horn reaches above your head. Same deep amethyst eyes and flowing multi-colored mane you'd expect. There's a unique radiance about her, and without thinking you extend a finger to poke her nose. She looks bemused. Sure enough, she's solid. This only adds to your collective worries. Celestia's little snort at being approached this way was pretty cute, and before you can stop yourself, you hug her neck. God, sweet, soft warmth. Politely, but perhaps not unreasonably, she uses magic to drag you away with a small chuckle.
  117. "Well that's the first time a Poster's done that. Then again, most of them were fully dressed. Here, let me help you with the cold."
  119. Out of seemingly nowhere, a fluffy white dressing gown flops on your head. You eagerly put it on, embracing its warmth. It has that fresh out-of-dryer heat and was honestly the most welcoming thing in the world at that moment.
  121. "That's from Rarity. She made it for you."
  123. -
  125. "How did she...?" you begin, ignoring the fact that Rarity is apparently real now too. Not answering, Celestia turns away and starts trotting off. Hastily following her, you jog a few steps to catch up to her right-side. She casts an eye on you, and in a gesture of good will, extends one of her gracious wings behind your shoulders before addressing you again.
  127. "I can tell you have many questions, and I can completely understand. Before explaining anything, I want to show you something first," she smiles, continuing to watch you with interest. "If you believe what I said earlier, you are not the first of your kind to arrive here. There have been 3 others in this position."
  129. "Where are they now?" you find the courage to ask, tugging the luxuriously snug dressing gown closer to your freezing form.
  131. Another cheeky smile. The kind that indicates no straight answer, and sure enough...
  133. "Later. For now, I want to take you to one of our castle's most secret rooms. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."
  135. Moving around made it clear that Canterlot castle really was magnificent. The hall in which you'd arrived - and barfed - in was decorated with hundreds of tapestries, each one detailing wonderful stories about the Sun and Moon. The lush, royal red carpet you found your toes caressing was a welcome change from the hard-tiled floor.
  137. After a few minutes of silently following Celestia and walking through immense corridors and spacious landings, she folds her wing back and stops in front of a large, decrepit oak door.
  139. -
  141. "Through this door is something that will aid my explanation of why you are here. Are you ready?" Celestia asked, still smiling but sounding slightly more business-like now.
  143. The honest answer was no, you weren't ready. For any of this. Didn't seem like there was much choice in the matter now though, and you felt resigned.
  145. "Sure, yeah" you half-whisper. Freaking out wasn't really on your to-do list but it was still possible if these nasty surprises keep up.
  147. Acknowledging your consent Celestia bows her head, pressing her horn into what looked like a dark knot in the wood. Immediately the old door began glowing with an unbelievable gold-tinted sparkle before vaporizing silently in a gust of glitter. You admit to yourself that magic is actually pretty awesome. You follow Celestia through the now door-less doorway trying not to inhale any golden magic dust on your way past. The door leads into an odd, circular room which could only be a tower.
  149. Celestia's trotting stops and she tuns to face you with a raised eyebrow. You blink at her, then following her gaze, slowly look up. There's a stained glass window there which depicts a few ponies standing above blue rectangle boxes. Hell, you could even name them. Applejack, Vinyl Scratch, Octavia and Rarity. Seems like a rather odd mix of Ponies...
  151. Oh shit. Oh SHIT.
  153. You made the impossible, inconceivable, preposterous connection.
  155. "These... aren't 'Get post' ponies... are they?" you gasp, dreading the answer.
  157. The white alicorn nods, beaming.
  159. -
  161. Her voice seemingly full of praise, Celestia gives you a respectful look.
  163. "I must say, I'm surprised you got it in just one guess. It took our first Poster several tries until I eventually took pity on the poor soul." Her sly smile appears again.
  165. Only semi-listening, your knees give, and you fall flat on your ass staring in awe at the bewildering stained-glass window depicting Gets. You suppress manic laughter at how something so grand could come from shitposting. Repeating digits shitposting at that. This surely is the weirdest dream you've ever had. More than those failed lucid pony dreams.
  167. Giving you a moment to collect yourself from this utterly bizarre revelation, the familiar polite-throat clearing brings you back to the circular room.
  169. "As you've correctly deducted, this window shows the accomplishments of the Posters - as to say, your kind." Celestia pauses, with those amethyst eyes still warmly on you. She carries on, "For every 5 million posts, one of your kind is sent here as a reward. Eternal freedom from the mundane life as a Poster, living here in care-free Equestria instead."
  171. This seemed strange. Your mind races back to all those 'Anon in Equestria' threads you read that had a similar premise. You gulp.
  173. "Have I died?" you ask rather bluntly.
  175. Sympathy fills Celestia's face again, but her slow answer reassures you.
  177. "No, you're not dead. Quite the opposite, actually. Here in Equestria, you will be reborn."
  179. This was getting too weird.
  181. -
  183. "What do you mean reborn?" you reply inquisitively. In response, Celestia just gives another smug know-it-all smile.
  185. Getting peeved at how much information she was withholding, and due to your backside getting numb from sitting on the hard floor, and you scramble up to your feet. You understand that Celestia wants you to learn but this information-starving was really getting too much. How did shitposting get you here? Where are the other Posters? What did she mean by "reborn"? When can you go home?
  187. Looking again at the glorious shitpost window and at the silhouette of Rarity at the top, a great feeling of turmoil storms inside you. Enough of this shit. You fire your questions like bullets directly at Celestia trying to get proper answers.
  189. "How do I get back home?" Shot number 1.
  191. "There is no known way, I'm afraid." Shot deflected back, piercing your heart.
  193. Already wounded deeply, you try shot number 2: "Why me?"
  195. "You wanted this post, did you not?" Another rebounding shot, piercing your chest.
  197. "H-how will I ever fit in with all the ponies here?" Feeble third fired.
  199. Celestia pauses this time, as if contemplating something big. Slowly her eyes close, clearly lost thought. 20 agonizing seconds later she opens them again, seemingly shrugging off her train of thought with a simple reply.
  201. "That's the purpose of the mentor."
  203. "M-mentor?" you awkwardly echo like a fool.
  205. "Yes, mentor. Rarity will be your mentor. You chose her, after all."
  207. What?
  209. -
  211. You glance down at the godly white fluffy gown that was given to you earlier. Had Rarity really made this just for you? Did this 20 mil Get shitpost actually intertwine your fates? Why where you going along with this utterly retarded idiocy?
  213. You address Celestia, speaking rather abruptly for once; manners be damned
  215. "So you believe that since I secured the 20 million milestone post on an image board, I'm now entitled to a life in Equestria? With no regard to my own life or future plans?"
  217. "Need I remind you, Poster, that this was your cho-" she begins but you sharply cut across her. "Sure, I wanted it, but it was supposed to be a MEANINGLESS POST on a website. Not to change my life in such a drastic way!"
  219. Celestia's smile fades. She doesn't really appear to be angry but there's now a little bit of finality in her words.
  221. "I do not believe, I know. This is your fate, Poster. Willingly or unwillingly. Now come along."
  223. She trots rather briskly out of the tower, leaving the shitpost stained-glass window behind. You follow quickly, not wanting to get locked in.
  225. As the door is magically re-sealed with the same golden haze, you hate yourself for admitting it, but Celestia was actually somewhat intimidating.
  227. Trying to not rub her the wrong way you ask where you're heading now. Much to your relief she doesn't seem upset.
  229. "I'm taking you to your room for the night. You need rest, and I need to let Luna take over for her night watch."
  231. You guess bed would be nice.
  233. -
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