Back Of My Mind: Concept Pilot 1

>”Hey Twi.”
What do you want, Anon?
>”That orange looks delicious.”
>You feel your magic activating on it’s own.
>Actually because Anon’s trying to tap into it.
>You clamp down on your inner power, shutting him out.
>”Come on, just a bite!”
You can’t eat, Anon.
>”Why’d you have to remind me?”
>You shake your head in exasperation, but you’re wearing a smile.
>The two of you go through this routine every time you stroll through the market.
>You’re not here to shop this time, though.
>Notebooks and reference material fill your saddlebags. The end of a telescope pokes out of one side.
>The market’s immaterial; it’s far later than you’d shop anyway, and most ponies are closing up their stalls. The main street’s simply the fastest way out of town.
>”You know, I bet I really liked oranges.”
You can’t say that
>”Hey, just because I might not remember anything about my life doesn’t mean I can’t guess. I feel like I liked oranges. Or, I should have liked oranges. Maybe just orange juice. Something citrusy. Lemonade?”
You don’t even know your own name
>”I bet it was more boring than my current one.”
Only because your current name is literally the absence of a name.
>”You’re a smart pony, I knew you could appreciate the astronomical intelligence behind my choice when I picked it.”
>Your smile broadens.
A fitting choice of words for tonight’s activities. I knew there’s a reason I keep you around.
>”The wordplay? Damn, I thought it was because you can’t get rid of me without losing your magic, since I’m glued to your horn and all.”
We don’t know that.
>”I know you’re too scared of it to try.”
>You never tried because you don’t want to lose him, as much as you regret confining him to your presence.
>The back half of that thought you let float to the surface of your mind. The first half you keep submerged deep, far below his ability to penetrate.
>You wish you could know what he was thinking as he could you. Just a little glimpse into his alien mind.
>”Damn that ass too fat.”
>You wish you could know what he was thinking in those moments he didn’t make it painfully obvious.
>”Look at that flank, Twilight. Look! Grey mare to your left, eight o’clock.”
I’m not into mares, Anon.
>”I bet that plot can convince you otherwise.”
What does ‘plot’ even mean in this context?
>”Rear, posterior, derriere, hiney, cheeks, butt-”
Alright, alright, I get it! Why can’t you act more like a proper stallion? Heavens know I got enough teaching material for you, no matter how many weird looks I got…
>”But then I saw the kind of ‘teaching material’ you get for yourself late at night. If I’m stuck here with you, Sparkles, I may as well be something you’d enjoy!”
I have a feeling you were always like this.
>”We both know not even I know that.”
No, I mean while I was growing up in the Academy. Before I, uh, found those late-night books.
>”And kept finding them, usually after searching for them.”
Shut up!
>”I mean damn, Twi, I know you like books, but ones like that you may as well marr-”
“I said shut up!”
>”Careful, somepony may hear you, and we both know what happens then. Maybe this time it’ll be a cute mare, give me something to look at.”
>You almost freeze up when you realize he was right, you’d said it aloud. Fortunately it was under your breath, and nopony’s close enough to hear.
>You – and your ever-present mental passenger – have made it out of town. The land beyond is quiet under the setting sun.
>”Thinking of stretching your wings?”
When I’m far enough from town that a princess flying at full speed won’t alarm anypony.
>”You’re too considerate. Have some fun.”
>You pick up your pace, falling into a fast canter.
You just enjoy flying.
>”So do you. You can’t keep that from me.”
>You laugh, inwardly at first, then freeing it to the world.
>For one who is supposedly a dead disembodied alien stallion, it’s a miracle you two have so much in common. Sometimes his marely nature was a blessing.
>”Nobody’s watching, Twilight.”
How can you tell?
>”I’m looking back at the town right now.”
>You chuckle again, then spread your wings.
>One downbeat shoves you eight feet into the air.
>...you swear you could feel the gentlest upward push against your barrel.
>Must have just been a quirk of air pressure. Anon can’t interact with anything without using your magic. It’s the biggest piece of evidence in the “persistent hallucination” column, as much as you wish that was already positively disproven.
>Well, you could dream…
>Wait, was that thought submerged deep enough?
>You shake your head, then push further skyward with a few more powerful wingbeats.
>”This is more like it.”
How did you feel when I first got my wings?
>Anon doesn’t respond to this.
>Another of those moments you wish you could know his thoughts as he knew some of yours.
>”We’re out of town, you can speak aloud, now.”
“Thinking’s easier.”
>”But you just spoke.”
“For you, silly.”
>”Shucks.”
“Flying’s always nicer with someone to talk to.”
>”Someone all to yourself.”
>And so it goes, usually. Those few times you’re not around other ponies, you don’t have to hold back. You can talk to Anon like he’s a normal being, standing right next to you. Or, flying right next to you. Times when your friendship/haunting/disorder seem almost normal. No need to worry about weird looks or judgment. Honestly, you should get out more, just to do this more often. You’re a princess now. It’s not like you had to answer to anyone why you stepped out for a day or seven. Sometimes you just want to spend time with him alone.
>After a decent amount of flight time, you touch down atop a hill preselected for the night’s endeavors. Taller than its cousins of the surrounding grassland, far enough from the town that light pollution won’t hinder your efforts.
“Help me unpack?”
>You’re focusing your magic on the contents of one side of your saddlebags. You can feel Anon pulling on your magic as he’s focusing on the contents of the other.
>Have unicorns ever had to deal with someone else using their magic? ...If that’s what’s happening?
>Is that a topic worthy of blowing your secret to document?
>”Save it for something really crazy. Go big or go home.”
“Heh, thanks. If I ever want to ruin my reputation, I’ll ask you for advice.”
>”For all we know I could be an expert in it. Maybe I died of shame back home.”
“Very funny.”
>”Death is no laughing matter, Twi.”
“Then why do you make so many jokes about it?”
>Anon ‘s answering chuckle fills your head, pleasant, wonderful.
“Now you’re the one laughing!”
>”Yeah, you got me. I can’t outsmart the purple.”
“Maybe you should pay more attention to the books you think are boring. It’s not like you can leave me.”
>”How about we get to your astronomy before I start hounding you about your tastes in literature?”
>Your books are already arrayed before you. Your magic’s got a pen hovering over an empty notebook, but that’s not your doing; you’re focused on your wealth of reference material.
>Your imaginary friend is your lab partner and research buddy.
>What a condition to have.
>You wouldn’t want it any other way.

* * *

>The silly horse you’re glued to fell asleep on you.
>To be fair, you two had been going at this for five hours straight.
>She’d gotten most of the info she was looking for, so there was no harm.
>Besides, it’s not like she intended to fall asleep.
>It’s just a very comfy hill, and it’s very dark and she’s been running on so little sleep lately…
>You’ll have to start getting on her case about taking care of herself, again.
>You never like doing that, because she started treating you different.
>She doesn’t mean to, of course, and when she’s more cognizant she hides her thoughts on the matter from you. But when she’s short on sleep and long on stress, she forgets or neglects whatever techniques she’s developed to manage that, so the only thing between you and much of her thoughts are how naturally tempestuous her mind becomes. That’s when she sees you as just a figment of her imagination. Not that she wants to believe that, but merely as a result of you speaking to some inner guilt about her habits.
>You understand it. You realize she can’t really control those whims of subconscious doubt. It still hurts.
>Then there are times like this.
>She fell asleep where she sat on the hill, just slumping over to the grass.
>You caught her. Let her down gently. With your own ethereal hands.
>You give in to those indulgences sparingly, and only when she’s not paying attention or unlikely to notice. She hasn’t satisfied herself fully on your nature, even after a decade together.
>She got nervous enough when you started messing with her vision, little flashes to highlight objects she misplaced, ‘writing’ notes in the margins of books for her eyes alone. She almost lost it, you almost lost her; she was about ready to check herself in somewhere. Then the gig would be up, her reputation shattered, or the best case scenario that they’d sic whatever the Equestrian version of the Ghostbusters are on you. Smoothing that one over was the pinnacle of your charismatic achievements, in your short afterlife here.
>You don’t want her hard work to be lost over a psychiatric misunderstanding, and you’re not ready to die a second time. You’re not ready to leave this purgatory-cum-paradise.
>So you don’t make it obvious to her you can touch her, or other little objects, provided they’re small enough, light enough.
>When she’s asleep? That’s a different story.
>You continue stroking her wing, watching her side rise and fall with her gentle breathing, and recall her earlier question. ‘How did you feel when I first got my wings?’
>After the mortal terror of almost being cast away during her ascension, saved only by a certain individual’s capricious whimsy?
>Heartbreak. Those wings were so hard on her. She couldn’t fold them away for several hours. Cramps and spasms in her sleep for a month straight, like her body was trying to reject them. That first night proved to you this purgatory could go both ways; if you didn’t want it to become hell, you had to work for it. The first couple times she woke up crying out in pain had hurt you in a way you couldn’t imagine before then.
>So while she slept, you did just as you were doing now. Stroking, preening, massaging her wings, where they met her back, her spine, the new muscles crossing her shoulders to her chest. That kept the worst of it down, let her sleep for more than a few hours at a time.
>It was nice. You were helpful to her in a way that couldn’t be filled by any pony. Something only you could do. Maybe this service to her is your way through this limbo and on to the true afterlife.
>She hasn’t needed you to do this for a year, but it’s become a comfortable habit, giving you some time to reflect on your thoughts and scant memories, as you are now.
>But she can’t know all that you can do, if you’re to avoid her institutionalizing herself. Not yet. So you’ll continue being her ‘luck’ when she’s awake, and her comforter and protector when she’s not.
>”Hello, dear friend!”
>Her protector!
>You ball one hand into a fist, pulling Twilight’s magic to you, even as you sweep your other hand in a wide arc over your head.
>Her horn glistens even in her sleep as a magenta dome forms over the two of you.
>You’re not nearly as good at magic as she is, and you can’t draw too heavily without waking her, but you know basic stuff, like shields.
>”Aww, that’s no way to greet an old buddy.”
>You look around for the source of the voice.
>It feels like there’s eyes on your back, no matter how quickly you turn.
>No, stop this. Expand your senses. You’re not shackled to human limitations, as a ghost.
>You close your eyes and… see anyway. In every direction, all around.
>Sure enough, behind you sits a pair of glowing lights. Yellow outside, red within.
>Of course, their owner knows you’re aware now; his power can’t be overstated. When you turn back, wearing a shit-eating grin, he simply manifests his physical form.
“Discord, you son of a bitch!”
>As you let the shield fall you hold a hand out, slapping it into his paw with a satisfying smack.
“What are you doing out so late?”
>”Couldn’t sleep, my friend. I figured I’d stop by to check in on you and our favorite avatar of Harmony.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you can read my mind like I can hers.”
>”Oh?” Discord stays by your side as you fall back to the grass, resuming your attention to Twilight’s wings.
“I was just thinking about how we, er, met. I still owe you, for that.”
>”I’m sure you’ll find a way to repay me,” Discord replies, wearing a smile one shade too sly for your liking.
“She still thinks there’s a possibility I’m stuck to her.”
>”Feeling anxious she’ll cast you off?”
“No, she doesn’t want that. At least, I don’t think she does. I hope not, since it’ll probably banish me to wherever I end up if I don’t finish whatever it is I’m here to do. I have to guess at some of these thoughts of hers. She keeps stuff from me more often, now that she’s ascended.”
>”Or maybe she’s just more capable of it now.”
>You frown.
“It’s a mental thing, not a magic thing. I don’t think that’s it. Regardless, I don’t think she’d get rid of me even if she knew. But it’s dishonest. I can’t tell her because it’d reveal your, uh, claw in all this.”
>Discord tips his head in an over-exaggerated gesture of respect. “Thank you for your continuing consideration.”
”I’ve just been feeling introspective tonight, is all. How’s Fluttershy doing?”
>”Oh, same old. Still freaking out whenever I actually help for a change. I swear she’s going to drive herself crazy.”
>You give him a sidelong look, but can’t fight back another grin.
“You’re so cruel to her.”
>”What, by doing nothing? I know chaos can be found in quiet, but it’s not my style!”
“Broaden your horizons.”
>”You’re one to talk, your horizons don’t extend two dozen paces from the purple one.”
>You can only shrug at this.
>Twilight’s still sound asleep. Discord can, somehow, get on ‘your level,’ speaking to you without making a sound, visible to none but you. When you talk to him, Twilight can’t hear.
>The notion terrifies you, but you’ve never told him that. Even if he’s a good friend, that’d give his peculiar nature too much ammunition.
“If not her, then what did you want to talk about?”
>Discord spreads his mismatched arms wide. “The world, my friend. Your warden has selected a wonderful backdrop for a grandiose conversation about life.”
“I wouldn’t know life if it bit my head off and you know it.”
>”Apologies.”
“None found, from you.”
>He looks at you with his snaggletoothed smile, and the two of you share a laugh.
“Alright you patchwork bastard, tell me what’s on your mind.”
>”Well, it goes something like this...”