Flutterphysics, a my little pony fanfic

Flutterphysics
by J. M. O'Hare

Part One:
I Dig a Pony

I awoke to a dull thud that shook my bed, immediately followed by what my half-sleeping brain took to be the meow of a cat. I lay on my side in the dark with my eyes wide, staring at the glowing numerals of the clock on the nightstand: 3:17 AM. Had I dreamed that? I occasionally suffer from night terrors, but this didn't feel like one. For one thing, I could move; for another, I wasn't terrified... yet.

The mewling came again from behind my back, along with a soft scraping. It sounded as if something had been dragged across the floor. I rolled onto my stomach and turned my head toward it, and that's when the terror set in.

About eight feet from where I lay, two glowing, yellow-green disks the size of highway reflectors were hovering above the floor. They jerked back about a foot. They were eyes. I could barely make out the silhouette of what possessed them, but that was no comfort. It was a lump of shadow with wings... big ones, spread wide.

Jesus, did an owl get in here...?

That was no owl. Owls don't have ten foot wingspans. As my mind locked down on what I was seeing, I realized it was about the size and shape of a large mastiff, but with wings and a shaggy head...

Although I am agnostic, the Lord's Prayer ran through my mind. No atheists in the foxholes! A second track was running just beneath it: You always wondered if there were things like that in this world, kiddo. Well, now you know. I had no choice but to suspect that I had either lost my mind, or I was looking at a demon.

By then I knew that this was not a hypnopompic hallucination. I knew that because, very stealthily, I had been moving my hand toward the switch of the lamp on the nightstand. You can't move during a night terror. Also, although I was afraid, I was not that afraid. If you've ever experienced sleep paralysis, you know what I'm talking about. You can't duplicate that kind of primal, all-encompassing fear in the waking state. Not even oncoming death can do it. I've faced both. Believe me, I know.

I found the lamp cord. The switch was on it: one of those plastic inline jobs. That was fortunate, because it permitted me to reach it without whatever was standing in the shadows noticing. I don't think it noticed...

I turned on the light.

"Squeeeee...!" Its great wings folded across its face and it scooted backwards very quickly, pressing itself into a corner. It was covered with short yellow hair except for its wings, which were feathered. It had hooves; its front ones were drawn up against its chest. I saw a mass of pink amidst the yellow and realized it was apparently its tail, which appeared to be quite large; however, most of it was crammed into the corner behind its rump. It also seemed to have pink... hair? ...on its head. Yes, a disheveled mop of long, pink hair was hanging just below its folded wings.

"What the hell are you?" I said softly.

I am a published writer of nonfiction articles, specializing in industrial design, aeronautics, and science — particularly physics. I have never written a single paragraph of fiction, much less that unsellable variety known as "fanfic." However, let's just say that's what this is, because the events I'm about to describe leave me no choice but to call it that. Let's also say my name is Jerry O'Hare. It isn't, but let's say it is. I'd like to continue to earn a living, thank you very much.

So, this is a work of fiction, and my name is Jerry. Is that clear enough?

The thing made that high-pitched mewling sound again and drew its wings more tightly around itself. I hadn't gotten a good look at its face. I'd only caught a quick glimpse of those two impossibly huge eyes, and then the animal had wrapped itself in its wings like a gigantic yellow bat... a bat with feathers. That didn't make a lick of sense.

I had read about the West Virginia Mothman and the Jersey Devil, but had never taken such legends seriously until that moment. Had something similar invaded my bedroom? I sat frozen, still scared half out of my wits but curious as well. It seemed even more frightened than I was, but who knew what kind of teeth it had? It wasn't behaving aggressively, but it was still a cornered something-or-other, and I didn't want to set it off. For all I knew, it could go from defensive to offensive in a heartbeat and attack in a pink and yellow blur with flailing wings and flying hooves and a gaping maw filled with long, sharp...

Stalemate, I thought.

After what seemed like an hour, I sat up, pulled the covers around myself and imitated its posture. "It's okay," I said in a high, babyish voice, "I'm not going to hurt you." I didn't expect it to understand me, but I hoped it would understand that tone.

Apparently it did. It relaxed its wings a bit and peeked over them, and it had some incredibly huge eyes, all right. They were at least the size of oranges, maybe bigger. Their irises were a lovely shade of aquamarine, but their gigantic pupils had almost eaten them up.

"I'll bet you see real well in the dark, don't you?" I said in the same tone. I was only thinking out loud. It didn't matter what I said as long as I sounded unthreatening. "You're nocturnal, aren't you? How do you stay hidden? Are you lost?"

As I spoke, its wings had continued to relax until they were beneath its forelimbs, which it now used to hug them to itself. For the first time I could clearly see its entire face. It was actually pretty, rather like a very large-eyed doe. Its skull was big, but its muzzle was small and delicate. It didn't look like it could deliver much of a bite. And it did have long, pink hair, remarkably like a human's except for the color.

"I... think I am," it said very quietly.

I boggled. Had I really heard that? Was it parroting me? I hadn't said that first, had I? "Did you just say something?" I blurted, once I managed to find my voice.

"Squeeee!" It pulled its wings up over its nose again.

I realized I had dropped the baby-talk. I had positively thundered at it. "I'm sorry," I said softly, lowing my voice but not going back into the cutesy-wootsy shtick. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not mad, but can you understand me?"

I believe it answered, but I couldn't make out its words. "I didn't catch that," I said, not really expecting an answer.

It lowered it's wings again, but bowed its head so that its hair covered most of its face. "Yes," it said. "Where am I?"

That was the first time it had spoken loudly enough for me to really hear its voice. It was light, soft, very feminine and utterly human, and at that moment, I stopped thinking of it as "it." It was apparently a "she."

"Um, you are in Charleston, South Carolina," I said, "In my bedroom, if you want me to be specific."

"That's not in Equestria, is it?"

"Where?"

"I didn't think so." She sighed, leaned forward and folded her wings, then fell back into the corner. "What are you?" she said. "You look like a big monkey."

"Close enough," I replied. My brain was jammed with at least a dozen questions, all jostling for first place. I decided to eliminate one I didn't even believe myself. "Begone, demon!" I abruptly said without much conviction, crossing myself, feeling like an idiot. "The power of Christ compels you!" Then I started reciting the Lord's Prayer again.

She didn't flinch. She just stared at me, then gently interrupted when I got to the "daily bread" part. "You poor thing," she said, "You're as scared as I am. Don't be afraid. I'm not a demon."

"You know what one is, though." It was neither a statement nor a question.

"Of course I do, but our protection rituals aren't the same. That was close enough to recognize, though."

She was a quick study. She shifted slightly and curled her tail around her haunches. Frankly, I appreciated the extra coverage. She'd been sitting with her hind legs immodestly splayed out in front of her, hugging herself, and she was definitely female. I noticed she had some kind of markings on her hips. The colors matched her eyes and tail. Not tattoos — the hair itself was colored. A dye job? I couldn't tell.

"So, what are you?" I asked.

"Well, I'm a pony," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Her answer struck me as funny. I almost snorted. "I don't think that word means the same thing to you as it does to me," I said. She looked more like a winged doe than anything else, but she really didn't look like anything of this world.

"If you say so." She bit her lip in a very human fashion. "You have no idea how I got here, do you?" she hesitantly whispered.

I shook my head. "No. I was hoping you could tell me."

"I don't know either. I was gathering herbs in the forest, then everything went dark. I fell. I thought I hurt my leg, but..." she uncurled her tail and flexed a hind leg; I averted my eyes, "...it's not that bad. I feel so heavy, though. I don't think I can stand. I'm afraid to try."

"Don't try," I said. "I don't want you to hurt yourself. I'll help you in just a minute." An idea was forming, but it was almost as crazy as the demon hypothesis. "So that's all you remember?"

"That's all. I found myself staring straight at your bed, and you raised your head up and I was so scared I could hardly breathe. You know everything else."

I decided to explore the next stupid question. "Where did you say you came from? You mentioned it earlier."

"The forest? No, I was just..."

"No, before that."

She looked blank.

"When I told you that you were in Charleston," I prompted.

"Oh! Equestria?"

"That's it!"

"Yes, I'm from Equestria. Cloudsdale originally, but I live in..."

"Is Equestria a planet?"

"No, it's a country. On Earth."

"Well, that blows that theory," I said. "You're still on Earth, but I've never heard of your country."

"I've never heard of yours either, but when you said 'Earth' in that incantation you tried, I wondered if this might be a different Earth altog..."

"What?"

She cringed and her wings partly opened. "Did I say something wrong?" she squeaked.

"No, no, you didn't say anything wrong!" She sure was a sensitive little thing.

She refolded her wings and slumped against the wall again. "I'm always saying the wrong thing. Stupid, Fluttershy, stupid..."

"Stop that. You're brilliant. Is that your name? Fluttershy?"

"Yes."

"Is it a nickname? Or..."

"No, it's the name my..." she paused, and her big, sad eyes suddenly looked even sadder, "...mother gave me." She shook her head rapidly. "What's yours?"

"Jerry." I actually gave her my real name, but I've already explained that I'm not going to use it here.

"So, Fluttershy," I continued (What a silly name! I thought, then felt guilty for thinking that about such a sweet... person?) "you said something about this Earth being different. What did you mean by that?"

"I know somepony who could explain it better, but you're not my first friend..." she stopped in mid-sentence. "Oh. That was presumptuous."

"What was?" It took me a moment to follow where her mind had gone. "You mean implying that I'm your friend? No it wasn't. I hope we're friends. You seem very nice, whatever the hell you are."

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Anyway, you were saying..."

"I like you too. I finally figured out that you're just an animal, but not like anything I've seen before. I could go on..."

"You started to tell me about a friend of yours," I said. "Different Earths?"

"Oh! Yes, I have a friend from a different Earth. That's what Twilight says, anyway. Her name is Pinkie. She grew up on a... a rock farm, or that's what she claims. I don't understand why anyone would want to farm rocks, but there are a lot of things about Pinkie that nopony understands. Twilight said that our reality and hers overlap, and the..." (rain boom?) "...opened a tunnel between them. Pinkie came through it, but she's only sort of halfway here and halfway there. She's not even made out of the same kind of atoms we are and she can be in two places at once, and..."

The adorable little scatterbrain had been talking faster and faster until I could barely make out her words. Her voice was soft anyway, and my hearing isn't good. I held up a hand. "Whoa," I said. "Are you telling me you have a friend from a parallel universe who doesn't obey your physical laws?"

"Yes! You said that just like Twilight!" She closed her eyes and her mouth curled into a small, satisfied smile. "Succinctly," she concluded, sounding as if she might have been imitating someone else. She grinned sheepishly and uttered a tiny, nervous squeak.

I very much wanted to talk to this Twilight. "I think you've explained what happened," I said.

Parallel universes. The many-worlds hypothesis. Alternate realities. That stuff had been in the back of my mind almost since this cute not-a-pony had fallen out of thin air, but it was quite a stretch. Not only was it hard to swallow, but...

Even considering the high strangeness that is whispered about in all human cultures, I never would have expected this. Grays and reptilians and sapient winged deer-things that call themselves ponies, oh my! "The multiverse is not only stranger than we imagine," I paraphrased, "it is stranger than we can imagine."

"You really do sound like Twilight!" she said.

"Can you help me?"

I had been silently gazing at nothing. My brain had overloaded. I had eliminated the dream hypothesis by imagining that Fluttershy suddenly turned into an equally unclothed Charlize Theron and hopped into my bed, but she remained herself and stayed right where she was. This was not a dream, lucid or otherwise. That left only the insanity hypothesis. Oh, well. If I was nuts, at least I was enjoying it.

I shook my head and returned to the here-and-now. "I don't know. I think you probably fell through something we call a traversable wormhole, or at least, that's second on my list right under 'I've lost my mind,' but I don't know why it happened and you don't seem to know either."

"I'm sorry," she said, "I meant, can you help me up? I can't feel my legs."

"Oh, absolutely!" I started to hop out of bed, realized I was as naked as she was, started to pull the covers around myself like a robe, then thought, What the hell am I doing? Timid as she was, she seemed completely untroubled by her lack of clothing. Would I cover myself because my dog Jake was in the room? No, he couldn't care less. This was just about as relevant.

I threw off the covers, got out of bed and went over to her, feeling a little self-conscious in spite of my self-lecture. Regardless of her anatomy, Fluttershy still had the voice and personality of a young woman; however, she didn't react at all, or not much. Her eyes flickered up and down my body, but it was nothing more than curiosity. "I'm glad you have hands," she said. "I think I need them."

"What's the best way to go about this?"

"Good question." She tried scooting away from the wall, and grimaced. It was freaky how human her expressions were. "Oooo, I hate this!" she said. "When my legs wake up, it's gonna hurt!"

"I'm going to pull you out of the corner," I said. "If I do anything wrong, tell me to stop." I knelt in front of her, took her gently by the... pasterns I think they're called? ...whatever passes for the ankles of a hoofed animal's hind legs, and dragged her a couple of feet. I was surprised by how light she was. Was she hollow-boned like a bird? As a winged creature, that would make sense. Because of her uncanny lightness, I was further surprised by her next words:

"It wasn't my imagination," she said. "Gravity is a lot stronger here. At first I thought I was just so scared that the strength went out of me. It happens to me sometimes — I'm such a coward! But it's not that. I'm not afraid of you. I'm just twice as heavy as I should be, at least!"

I started to ask her what she normally weighed, but decided the answer would probably be meaningless. Why would she use the same units of measurement? And why does she speak English, eh? I thought, then put it out of my mind. Our universes had to be linked in some way that I couldn't fathom. If the best scientists in the world couldn't explain her, and I knew they couldn't, I didn't stand a chance.

I started rubbing her legs, being very careful to avoid working too high up. Whatever she was, she wasn't an animal. As I said, her voice and personality were unsettlingly human. So were her hair and her facial expressions, and while her eyes were not, they were intelligent and breathtakingly beautiful. Also, frankly, the area I was avoiding was unsettlingly human, too. On top of all that, she smelled clean, like a forest after a thunderstorm.

"If we don't get your blood flowing," I said nonchalantly, deliberately distracting myself, "you're not going to be able to stand up anyway."

"That feels nice," she said.

"Let me know when you think you're steady enough."

Presently she took a deep breath and said, "Okay, let's try this."

I stepped behind her, put my arms around her ribcage and lifted... and almost tossed her into the air! I had to compensate quickly because she was even lighter than I thought. She couldn't have weighed more than forty pounds. What did she weigh on her own world? Twenty? Less? That explained why her wings, though large, didn't look big enough to lift a creature her size. On this Earth, they weren't.

She got her feet up under her, but I didn't let go. "I'm just going to ease you down slowly," I said. She was breathing hard and didn't answer, but her hair bounced as she nodded. Very carefully, I let her weight down onto her hooves. Her legs started to tremble. "I don't think I can do this," she whimpered.

"Okay, okay, I've got you." I took some of the weight back off her feet. The trembling lessened, but she started to cry. The sound of it was absolutely heartbreaking.

"I'm such a worthless piece of..."

"Shhhh... shhhh..." Abruptly deciding, I picked her up, carried her over to the bed and gently placed her on it, being very careful not to bump her legs against the mattress. I was becoming seriously concerned about how fragile she was. Were her bones really hollow? Could she even survive a broken leg? They shoot horses, don't they? I thought blackly.

She put her head between her forelegs and continued to sob, and I stroked her hair. It really was more like a true mane, running down the middle of her head and most of the way down her long neck, but there was so much of it that it fell around her face like a woman's. It was very thick and soft, nothing like horsehair. "Don't cry, honey," I said. "We'll get you on your feet, and eventually we'll figure out a way to get you home."

"How?" she said. "I'm a cripple here. I've always been one really, but now I can't even..."

"Shhhh." I pulled the covers over her and went back to petting her mane. She turned her face to one side and stared at nothing. Her shoulders stopped hitching, but her huge, tragic eyes stayed wet. I had been lying to her, hadn't I? She wasn't built for this world, and I had no idea how to send her home.

Eventually she closed her eyes and fell asleep. I got some blankets, sheets and a pillow from the linen closet and spread them out on the floor beside the bed. I didn't want to leave her alone in a strange place, but I wasn't about to crawl in there with her. I had a long history of being very active in my sleep — carrying on conversations, walking around, going to the bathroom... not to mention the obvious. She was too fragile to risk it.

She wasn't a pet. She was a non-human person, and she had pushed every love-and-protect button I had. I left the light on and went to sleep on the floor.

I opened my eyes to morning sunlight. Part of a bedrail, the side of the box springs and a scattering of dustbunnies came into focus, and I remembered where I was and why I was there. Had I physically acted out a vivid dream? It wouldn't be the first time. I sat up quickly and peered over the side of the bed.

It hadn't been a dream. I was staring straight into a pair of rather large nostrils with a much larger pair of eyelids above them, angelically closed. The lashes were long and thick. There was a booger in her nose. Well, she had been crying. Somehow, her untidy nose caused the reality of the situation to hit me like a cold shower. It seemed to say, "I am not a figment of your imagination. I am not an angel. I am not a demon. I am not a supernatural being. I am a mortal, frightened little creature who sometimes gets snot in her nose, and I need your help."

How did she pick her nose? The errant thought almost made me blast explosive laughter into her sweet, sleeping face. This was beyond absurd!

Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at me for a second or two without recognition. God, her pupils were HUGE! Then, what she was seeing registered and she jerked her head back with a squeak.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I was just watching you sleep, trying to get it through my head that you're real. I didn't expect you to wake up so fast."

"I'm real," she moaned. She started to lift her head, then let it fall back to the mattress. "Oh, sweet Celestia, I'm real all right. I feel like someone kicked me in my sleep."

"Here, maybe this'll help." I reached over her and grabbed a pillow, lifted her head and slipped it underneath. "I should have done that last night," I said apologetically, "But you were lying in a way that made me think you didn't need them."

"I use them. Thank you. I was just too exhausted to move."

I got a tissue from the box on top of the dresser and wiped her nose. "This is ridiculous," she said as I tossed it into the wastebasket. "I guess I'm finding out what being helpless really is. I... uh..." She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. Clearly she was embarrassed about something, and I was pretty sure I knew what it was.

"Do you need to..." I paused, realizing I was about to employ a human euphemism. Would "go to the bathroom" mean anything to her? Why should I assume that she bathed and evacuated in the same place? It had even struck me as absurd from time to time. "Do you need to urinate or defecate?" I finally asked, dropping euphemisms altogether.

She squinched her eyes more tightly shut and nodded. "I have to pee," she confirmed. That answered one question: she might not be body shy, but she was about that kind of stuff.

I had already thought of a way to handle it. I picked her up, carried her to the bathroom (not without having to quiet a few moans of protest on the way) and carefully set her in the tub. "Just do what you have to do," I said, "and holler for me when you're finished. I'll come back and clean out the tub, then I'll clean you up if you want me to." I left the room, closing the door behind me.

It seemed I had become a nurse, not that I minded. Thank goodness I worked out of my home. This would be a very awkward situation if I had to leave her alone in the house, perhaps even tragic.

I started to get dressed, but decided against it. She had no idea that I ever wore clothes, and it would put her at even more of a disadvantage. Also, I was going to have to go back in there and deal with pee and such. So, my game plan was to stay in my skin, clean the tub, wash her, wash myself and get on with the day. That was sensible.

Had I heard something? I went back to the bathroom door and knocked. "Did you call me?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm finished." It was clearly not a good idea to stray very far from her if she might need me. Her voice did not carry at all.

She had not needed to defecate. I'll forego the blow-by-blow descriptions of Fluttershy Maintenance from here on out, except to briefly hit the main points now, because curiosity is natural:

One, I learned that very morning that I was going to have to get over my reticence about touching her. She had to be washed, and there was no point in being finicky about it. That would only make the process less efficient and more embarrassing than it had to be. I gritted my teeth and approached it as one would approach dealing with any invalid. For several weeks, that's exactly what she was.

Two, although I didn't find out until that evening, her poop was easy to manage. It was pellets. It was not particularly messy and it didn't stink as bad as ours. There are advantages to caring for an herbivore. Since I tend to go heavy on the vegetables, she could eat most of the same things I ate, including eggs and even dairy products. Substitutions were easy: where I got fish or chicken, she got barley or alfalfa.

Three, I'm happy to report that with help, she gradually built up enough strength to walk. She did pushups until she collapsed into a puddle of her own sweat, and at first I spotted her. However, she could never deal with our toilets. She described her own, and they sounded like the squat toilets used in many Asian countries. When I asked her who made them, her answer made me think she was pulling my leg. She told me unicorns did. I laughed, she became so frustrated she almost cried and I began to realize something else unusual about her: she didn't tease. Ever.

Four, even though she eventually grew quite strong (you would not believe how much grit she had — and she thought she was weak?) she always had to be helped into and out of the tub. That annoyed her, but she actually enjoyed being bathed. Communal bathing was the norm in her culture, which made sense when I thought about it. I installed a hand-held shower head, and things became even easier once she could stand on her own. At twelve weeks she could walk almost normally on level floors. At twenty she could climb the stairs, get into and out of bed without help, etc.

Five, about two weeks after her arrival, she asked me why I slept on the floor. I told her a half-truth: I didn't want her to feel threatened. With a lot of hemming and hawing, she made it clear that I was welcome in the bed, that my presence made her feel safe. I slept with her after that. Slept! Get your mind out of the gutter.

"Shy, come in here and look at this!"

"What's wrong?" She came into my study as fast as she could, which at that time — not quite three months after her arrival — wasn't very fast. "That sounded urgent. What are you looking at?"

"I don't... It'll be easier just to show you. I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you. I'm not even sure how to tell you!"

I lifted her onto a small chaise longue I had put beside my desk chair. It was up on cinderblocks, high enough for her to recline at about the same level as the monitor. She could see over the edge of the desk, but it would still be some time before she could stand comfortably for long.

Although she couldn't operate a computer by herself, it fascinated her, and sometimes I just wanted her near me even if she was sleeping. I had tried to devise a way of making it easy for her to explore the internet on her own, but so far nothing had worked very well.

"I was just searching for information on ponies." I said, once I had her comfortably situated. "You don't look like one, but since you call yourself that, I ran a search and this came up."

My browser was already on the video I wanted to show her. I clicked the "play" button and watched her watch the screen.

For the next several minutes, she scarcely made a sound.

"Make it stop, please," she pleaded. "I'm just... overwhelmed."

I put it on pause. "You're not the only one," I said.

"What does this mean? How did they do that?"

"I have no idea."

"It looks like drawings, but they move!"

"Oh, that? That's what it is. It's a series of drawings that flash on the screen very fast and create the illusion of motion. It's just an animated cartoon. I can show you lots of them. What I mean is, I have no idea how its creators knew about you."

"They know about a lot more than me," she said warily. She looked up from the screen, clearly frightened. "That's obviously us. I've told you about my friends. They simplified us, but they know who we are."

I nodded. They had been caricatured. I haven't watched cartoons in years, but to use the last example I can think of, it was like the difference between Lydia in the animated version of Beetlejuice and Lydia as played by Winona Ryder.

Fluttershy was 22 years old, and would live about as long as a human. She really was innocent and naive, but not as much as her animated doppelgänger. She was tougher, although the show did suggest that streak in her nature. Sometimes she cursed when she was upset, but not often, and there were other differences.

Compared to the cartoon, her head was not as big relative to her body, but her wings were very much larger. Their plumage was more complex, and under the feathers they split into two "fingers" at the tips. The adaptive reason was aerodynamic. The separate phalanges had apparently evolved to control drag in flight, but they also partly made up for her lack of hands. She often used them to manipulate small objects. She could easily manage a knife and fork, stemware, and surprisingly, cigarettes.

She had asked if I could get them before the end of her first full day on this world. I had to light them for her, but on her version of Earth some kind of unicorn-made gadget dispensed them already lit. She had mentioned that Rarity also smoked, and Twilight nagged them both about it. Even AJ, who had never acquired the habit, once got so sick of Twilight's lectures that she'd turned to Shy and said, "Gimme one of those, sugarcube. I'm gonna sit here and smoke 'em with ya until this bitch shuts up."

She also liked hard cider and brandy. Only two weeks before, when she had managed to walk across a room for the first time without assistance, she had gotten drunk as a lord. She was the cutest, most adorable drunk I've ever seen until she threw up and passed out. No way would a kids' cartoon ever show us that.

On the plus side, the actress who did her voice sounded so much like her it was amazing. They also had her coloring right, as well as her kindness, timidity, self-deprecation, love of nature and surprising bursts of strength. The cartoon Fluttershy was indisputably her, but a sanitized version about four years younger.

"What about Equestria?" I asked. "Did they get it right?"

"Close enough to be scary," she said. "It really isn't, but... I mean, there's a lot more stratification. Unicorns are on top. That's just how it is. This..." she tossed her head toward the screen, "is like Equestria for foals. Does that make sense?"

"Absolutely," I said. "It's a children's show."

She looked back at the monitor. The video was paused on an image of Pinkie reared up on her hind legs. "Why don't they draw our hooves?"

"Probably because it's animated. They have to draw each character thousands of times. The less detail, the better."

"They also neutered us," she said with a small moue of distaste. "That's kind of disturbing."

I nodded without answering. I had shielded her from the strange human attitude toward certain body parts. She wouldn't have understood it.

The cartoon was apparently very popular, but I had never heard of it. I wonder what my reaction would have been if I had known about it before she appeared.

"Shy, is everything all right?"

She slowly turned her head and stared at me for a long time before answering. "Is it ever, really?" she said. "I'm homesick, but..."

She had been very quiet all afternoon. She almost always was, but this was different. She had been distant, and that wasn't like her at all. Normally, she was one of the most alert individuals I have ever met. Nothing escaped her. She didn't always ask about things that astonished or confused her. She preferred to wait passively until the pieces fell into place, or to chew on them until she had worked them out on her own, but she had been gazing out the window all afternoon, avoiding shafts of sunlight so she wouldn't be seen, and she seemed barely aware of her surroundings.

"What's wrong?"

She didn't answer.

"Talk to me, Shy. Did that damn cartoon upset you?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm upset that you're not doing anything about it, and I'm mad at myself for being upset with you."

I went over and knelt in front of her. "It's perfectly okay for you to be mad at me, but what do you want me to do?"

"Write to whoever made it. It's not like you have to track them down on foot. I've seen what you can do. Your magic is better than our magic."

Magic, I thought. Tra-la-la. "I can't do magic, Shy," I said.

"You have plenty of access to the products of it, and whoever made that moving artwork certainly can do it. Rarity's ability doesn't hold a candle to that."

"I told you, honey, that's not magic. It's just a series of drawings, like shadow puppets."

"Jerry, that doesn't explain how they knew!"

Here it was, the unbridgeable gulf. "What are you thinking, Shy?"

"Well, they must have had something to do with my being here, don't you think?"

I sighed. "I think maybe you have the wrong idea about some things. The people who made that are no more magical than I am."

"From where I sit, it looks like they rival Twilight."

How was I going to explain this? I shook my head. "They don't. They're artists. What they did was unintentional. It comes down to being an amazing coincidence, but maybe there is no such thing as coincidence."

She looked away again, at the world outside the window. "That's a hell of a coincidence," she said very softly.

"Look, you understand the many-worlds concept, right? You even brought it up before I did."

"I don't understand it at all. I just know what I've seen. Pinkie is from somewhere else. She can teleport, but she doesn't have to work at it like Twilight does. She just does it, and she isn't even a unicorn. She's scared me out of my wits by showing up in my bedroom mirror. She knows things, but she doesn't know how she knows them."

Pinkie didn't sound as cute as that cartoon made her appear. She sounded downright scary. "That's the idea exactly," I said. "'She knows things, but she doesn't know how she knows them.' That's what the people who made that show did."

She remained silent and continued to gaze out the window.

"Listen to me, Shy. I'm not as creative as those people are, but I am in a creative field. I do creative work. We don't always know where our ideas come from. They just come. Maybe we're tapped into creativity like your friend Rarity is, but we can't control it."

"Neither can she," she said softly. "Control is Twilight's thing. Rarity just lets it fly. Her horn is really just a substitute for these." She spread a wing and twiddled her anterior primaries. I could practically see the wheels turning inside her pretty head. I kept my mouth shut.

Presently she turned her face toward me. Her eyes were wet. "I just want you to give me hope that I'll see my home again someday, Jerry."

"I'm working on it, but it's slow. I've already told you what could happen if the wrong people found out about you."

She raised a hoof and cringed. "Please don't," she said. "That scares me."

"You should be scared. The world outside that window isn't always nice."

"I'm sure it isn't. Neither is mine, regardless of how that show made it look. I still don't understand why you keep mentioning artists and scientists, though. What I need is a wizard."

"Fluttershy, listen to me. There are no wizards in this world — not real ones anyway, just charlatans. No winged ponies, no unicorns, no dragons, no wizards, no magic... at all!"

She looked as if I had just told her there was no Santa Claus. "None? At all?"

I shook my head.

"So, how does your computer work? Or television? Or the lamps? Or..."

"It's all technology, honey. They're just machines, like trains." Her world really did have trains. She had mentioned them.

"Even a locomotive has a boiler," she said, looking skeptical.

"Well, yes, but don't they just burn coal or something?"

"No. There's a chamber full of fire rubies under the water tank. Unicorns activate them."

"I'll bet that's clean," I said, feeling vaguely envious. "Your natural laws are apparently different from our natural laws." I suddenly wondered how things would have gone if a unicorn had fallen into this world — say, Rarity, or worse, Twilight. Their magic probably wouldn't work at all. If Fluttershy felt like a cripple here, they might have become suicidal.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

I shook myself out of it. "Nothing," I said. "I was just thinking that if one of you had to end up here, I'm glad it was you. At least you're able to pick things up with your wingtips, but a unicorn would have been completely helpless. You never cared much about flying, but the gravity here would have destroyed your friend Dashie. From what you've told me about AJ, she sounds like she would have stormed out of here like a bull in a china shop and ended up in a cage... or on a dissection table. And Pinkie sounds like she's composed of exotic matter. She might have just gone 'poof' and disintegrated." ...or exploded like a hydrogen bomb, I thought.

She was staring at me wide-eyed. "Oh, dear..."

I ran with it. "I'm just rambling, Shy, but it sounds like your universe is one step removed from Pinkie's. This one is probably two, maybe more. There might be a point where the natural laws are just too different to reconcile. Didn't you say she eats rocks?"

"No, she just told me her family farmed them. I don't know why." She looked perplexed. "I think rocks actually grow there and they build things out of them. I love Pinkie, but she's easier to take if you just accept her without asking too many questions."

I put a hand under her her jaw and lifted her face up. "You have a gift for accepting things," I said. "Even though I wouldn't have wished this on you for the world, if it had to be one of you, I'm glad it was you, because you're the best equipped to handle it."

She looked startled. "I never thought I was equipped for anything. I'm sorry I was mad at you."

I lightly flicked her nose. "Stop apologizing all the time! I'm proud of you for telling me. You have every right to be mad. I just hope you're getting it through your head that you're not weak. You're not helpless. You are a strong, smart, pretty... whatever you are. When you're doing your exercises, keep telling yourself that."

She bowed her head and her mane closed over her eyes like curtains, but she smiled.

As per routine, I was giving Shy her second bath of the day. She always went straight from breakfast to exercise, and she worked at it until she literally dropped. I had emptied out a bedroom for her that I had been using as a storeroom. She wanted to work on her wings as well as her legs, and that required a lot of space and blew things around.

Once she had reached the point where she could walk, she would not let me help her to the bathroom. She rested right where she was until she could get there under her own power. She didn't even like being lifted into the tub, but I had to draw the line at that. It was too slippery, the sides too high, and the wall too close. She could have cracked her skull. It was also too narrow for her to hop out of safely. She would've had to rear up on her hind legs and twist sideways, and I probably don't need to explain what was dangerous about that.

What would I have done if she'd broken a leg or injured her back? I don't even want to think about it.

Right after lunch, she went through the whole routine again. This was her afternoon bath. I had been scrubbing her hip, and I stopped to examine her pink and blue butterfly markings more closely than I had before.

Being made up of colored hair, they were fuzzier than they looked in the cartoon. I had never asked her about them. I figure a person's body art is their business. If they want to tell me about it, they will. Initially I had expected them to wash off, but they never did. They weren't tattoos. The skin under them was the same color as the rest of her under her coat: beige. I had assumed they were put on with permanent dyes and that they would eventually shed out, but the truth was stranger.

"So this is a 'cutie mark,' eh?"

She looked back at me and rolled her eyes. "No, that's a silly name. It's just called a brand, or sometimes a chop. The show is partly right, though. We get them at puberty, and they're personal. We have our naming ceremony right after."

"So that's how you got the name Fluttershy!" I said. "You told me your mother named you, and I wondered how she picked something so appropriate if you were just an infant. What did they call you before?"

She didn't answer. I had been looking at her hip, so I didn't notice when she hung her head. "Shy?" I scooted over to the other end of the tub and brushed her wet mane out of her face.

Her eyes were closed. I moved my hand to her shoulder. "Fluttershy?"

"Usually just 'honey,'" she said, "same as you. 'Dear,' 'sweetums,' 'little filly.' I don't remember my dad very well. He left us when I was little, but according to Mom it was usually 'girl' or 'hey you,' except when he was drunk. Then it was 'yellowstain' or 'puspocket.'"

"That's awful!"

"It's all right. It's all in the past. I might as well tell you though, the show where we all got our brands was partly true and mostly hooey, same as the rest of it. Dash does claim that she set off that rainboom, but I wasn't actually there. The part about me was drivel. Lifted by butterflies? Come on. The only truth in it was that I fell and I got my brand that day, but we can't stand on clouds and Dash didn't make me fall. I just stuh... stalled too low to recover, because I'm a shitty flyer."

Her voice had broken at the end. I patted her shoulder, feeling awkward and impotent. She had never said much about her childhood, and I couldn't blame her. "You don't have to tell me this," I said.

"I want to. You need to know it. You should know everything, because I might not be worth your bother. But would you please rinse me off and help me to bed? I feel shaky. I need to go lie down."

"Of course," I said, and I did. Once I had her tucked in, I fetched her cigarettes and a snifter of brandy from downstairs, then I sat on the edge of the bed while she told me about the day she became a mare.

"Dash and I really were in the same class," she said, "but I wasn't in her league and I didn't see her much. She had stood up for me before, but not that day, and I honestly don't know if her story about setting off the rainboom is true or not. They're rare, but not unheard of. Some ponies say the story about pegasi triggering them is just a superstition.

"I was practicing treetop landings, but I came in too low and too fast, and the rainboom distracted me. I don't even know if it was the same one that punched a hole into Pinkie's world, but it probably was. The timing is right. All I can say for sure is that once I recovered, I saw that I didn't have time to flare. I was going to crash, so I kicked my legs forward to increase my angle of attack, but I over-rotated. I stalled, crashed headfirst through the trees and ended up on the ground, knocked senseless."

"Ouch!"

"Yes, ouch. Anyway, when I came to, the first thing I saw was a butterfly with a shredded wing. It was right in front of my face, and I realized I had probably done it. So, I suppose I really did land on a butterfly that day, but only one. It was fluttering on the ground all helpless, and I sat up and wrapped my big, clumsy wings around myself and cried my eyes out. It reminded me of me. I wanted to fix it, but there was nothing I could do. I thought about putting it out of its misery, but I couldn't bear to do that either. So I just sat there and cried and watched it until it stopped moving. Some protector of animals, huh?"

"It was an accident, honey."

"I know it was, but that didn't matter. It was a beautiful living thing and I killed it. You have to understand, Jerry, that when I was twelve, I felt like I didn't deserve to occupy space."

You still do, I thought, feeling almost as helpless as she must have felt.

"I sat there for a long time, wishing I could trade places with it. When I finally got up, there was a puddle of blood on the ground where I'd been sitting. I almost panicked, but it was just... you know."

"You weren't a little filly anymore."

"Right. I had 'just become a mare,' as they say, and I had my butterflies, too. Isn't that a beautiful story, Jerry?"

I shrugged. "It's better than the one in the cartoon. I would love to hear the song they wrote for it. What causes it to happen?"

She blinked. "Huh? I thought you wrote science articles. The lining of the uterus is only good for..."

"No, honey. I mean, what causes the mark to appear?

"Oh. That's just some nonsense Celestia thought up."

I sat on the bed for a long time after she drifted off, watching her sleep. I was getting too attached. It got worse with every detail of her life that she revealed. This was wrong. She wasn't a woman. She was some kind of extradimensional horse.

I had begun to compartmentalize her innate humanity the night she fell out of thin air onto my bedroom floor. I had distanced myself from the intimate business of dealing with her physical needs by telling myself it was no different from expressing my dog's anal glands, but that was a lie. It was as different as night and day. She could talk. Jake couldn't. Her face was a damned sight prettier than his too, particularly her eyes and hair. As I had grown accustomed to her, I had come to find every inch of her beautiful. I didn't even associate her quadrupedalism with animals anymore. It was just part of who she was.

Jake was an animal. Fluttershy was a lady. She even used the word, but she only applied it to her friends, never to herself.

For the first time since she had literally fallen into my life, I left her alone in the dark. I went downstairs and slept on the couch, but before I did, I stopped with my hand on the doorjamb and looked back.

"Sweet dreams, little angel," I whispered.

Part Two:
Flutterphilia

"Jerry?"

I opened my eyes and my first coherent thought was that I had overslept. I hadn't set up an alarm clock! But no, the windows were dark. I had only fallen asleep without turning the light off.

"JERRY!"

I had no idea Shy could scream like that! I flung the covers to the floor, jumped off the couch and ran up the stairs. When I flipped on the light, I saw that she was sitting bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide as... well, coasters, anyway. In her case, even "saucers" was not much of an exaggeration.

"You're here!" she cried, then her voice returned to its usual breathy purr. "I'm sorry, I called you several times, but you didn't answer. I thought I was alone in the house."

"I wouldn't leave without telling you, Shy. I just fell asleep downstairs, that's all."

"I'm such a nincompoop."

"No you're not."

I meant it. If she had been anyone else, I might have felt differently, but aside from waking up alone in the dark in an alien universe where she weighed at least twice what was normal for her — a good excuse for a panic attack if ever there was one — there was something about Shy that mere words cannot convey. She could be foolish, but it was impossible to think her a fool.

There was no artifice in her. None.

Her self-hatred could have been tiresome, but it was poignant instead. Her demeanor was always mild, usually timid and often fearful, yet she was one of the bravest individuals I have ever known. She cried easily, but she was not a crybaby. She was a master of manipulation because she made no attempt to manipulate. You would have to be paranoid to think she was trying to gain the upper hand. Whatever her weaknesses, she was genuine. That made up for a lot.

I sat on the bed beside her and she threw her forelegs around my waist. "Please don't do that again," she begged. "I know I'm being stupid. I'm a grown mare and I've been sleeping alone all my life. I can't explain why I feel this way. For the last five years I've lived alone on the edge of the scariest place in Equestria, but I was never afraid. My animals made me feel safe. They can sense danger better than I can."

I had been increasingly restrained about unnecessary touching since the night of her arrival; nevertheless, I put my arm around her shoulders. "You know I have a dog outside, Shy. He's good at sensing danger, too."

"Yes, and knowing that helps, but why don't you ever let him in?"

I jerked my head back. She had blindsided me with an obvious question. "Well, because of you," I admitted.

"What? Jerry, why because of me?"

I leaned back against the headboard and squeezed her shoulders. "Because you're not like anything he's ever seen before, honey. I'm afraid he might attack you."

"But animals love me!"

"Animals in your world love you, but... look, you've seen him. He's almost as big as you are and over twice as heavy. If he went on the attack, I'm not sure I could control him. You could be gone..." I snapped my fingers, "just like that!"

"I want to meet him," she said stubbornly.

"Why didn't you ever ask before?"

"I'm already too much of a bother, but you never left me alone in the dark before."

I sighed. "Fair enough," I said. "I'll introduce you tomorrow." I glanced at the clock and corrected myself. "Uh, today, right after breakfast if you want."

"Yay!" She tightened her embrace and kissed me on the cheek.

That was the first time she had ever kissed me. I hadn't been sure she even knew the custom. Her lips were like velvet.

As the weeks went by, Shy's self-confidence improved. She was proud of herself for building up her strength; however, she began to show signs of restlessness, cabin fever, that only got worse. That I could talk to her helped, but I didn't dare let her out of the house.

Well, that wasn't quite true. I told her from the beginning that she could leave anytime she wanted, and that was the truth, but I also explained the dangers. She didn't dare go out of the house. Sometimes she got antsy. She missed her animals, but at least she felt sure they were being well cared for. She missed her friends. She missed her cottage. She ached to walk in a forest. Jake and I were the only animals in her life now.

I had introduced them cautiously, using a strong choke chain and wrist tether, but my fears had been unfounded. He loved her on sight, and she absolutely adored him. I was thinking about getting her more pets.

On this particular afternoon, almost six months to the day after her arrival, she was kneeling on the floor, flicking Jake's nose with the tip of her tail. "Who's a good boy?" she cooed, "You are! You are!" He bounced happily around her, grinning as dogs will do, trying to catch her tail in his mouth. Sometimes she let him. When she did, he stopped with a mouthful of pink hair, tossing his head, his eyes rolled sideways as if to say, "I don't know what to do with this. Lemme chase it!" Then she would whisk it away and the game would start over.

I was lying under a sweaty comforter on the couch, trying to read a book. It wasn't easy to keep my mind on it. They were far more entertaining than it was.

It was a science fiction novel I hadn't read since college, The Number of the Beast by Robert A. Heinlein. The first time I'd read it, I had thought it to be the silliest book ever written. I had wanted to hurl it across the room several times, but I got through it somehow. It was a parallel universe story, but it was just wack! Like, at one point, the four main characters visit the Land of Oz, where their flying car acquires two magical bathrooms that make it bigger inside than out. No kidding!

When I had read it before, I wondered if it had been the result of the author's health problems finally catching up with him. Now I was beginning to think it might be a work of unparalleled genius. Really, was it any more outlandish than the gentle pony-person who was currently entertaining my dog with her tail?

I laid the book open on the couch to mark its place, tossed the comforter aside and sprawled naked on the floor beside her. Jake sniffled my nose, licked it and went back to chasing her tail. "Have you ever wondered if you were a character in someone else's story?" I asked.

"Not really." She stopped playing with the dog and curled a foreleg around his neck. He lay down and snuggled close to her flank. "Are you thinking about that cartoon again?"

"Kinda. That book I'm reading deals with the idea."

"Seriously?"

"No, not really." She looked confused and a bit hurt, and I laughed. "Sorry, hon. I mean the book isn't serious, but the idea just might be."

"I can't say I like the implications. I'm pretty sure I exist."

"I'm pretty sure you do too, but it might be that both are true."

"How so?"

"That book is based on the goofy idea that imagining a universe creates it, but what I'm thinking is the opposite. In an infinite multiverse, no matter what world you create, it already exists somewhere."

She looked thoughtful. "So, you're saying there isn't really any such thing as fiction?"

"Right. We're talking about infinity here. By definition, you can only describe that which exists." And indescribable things must exist as well, I thought, then pushed the chilling Lovecraftian notion out of my head.

"And you think that's what the creators of that show did?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Well, they fictionalized parts of it," she said. "You know that. Our lives weren't one big whacky adventure. The 'Elements of Harmony' are pure fantasy. Except for Twilight, we're nothing special. Rarity tried to make inroads with Celestia once, and she treated her like a bug." Shy closed her eyes. "Poor Rarity. She cried for a week!"

"But your stint as a model really happened," I said. She had confirmed that much.

"Yes, three years ago, but it wasn't funny and it didn't happen the way they showed it. I never felt Rarity was pushing me. She supported me. I pushed myself. I thought it would be good for me, but it wasn't. It put a strain on our friendship and I felt like a whore. In the end I just forfeited most of my earnings and quit."

"So there wasn't any big miscommunication?"

"No, and Rarity was never jealous. The strain was over me not having any say about what I wore, even off the job. She practically begged me to wear her designs, but I couldn't. I was under contract. She understood that, but... you know, ponies aren't always logical."

"Did Twilight really try to help you break your contract by making you look foolish?"

"Never! That was funny in the cartoon, but really, why would she humiliate me like that? I was already having to bark like a dog, just behind closed doors and out of sight. She felt terrible for me, but there was nothing she could do. I was the plaything of unicorns who could have ruined her future with one letter to the Princess."

"It sounds like another one of those stories that aren't fit for children."

"It isn't. I'd rather not even think about it."

"I get the picture. I won't ask."

"Anyway," she said, cautiously rising to her feet, "How does that help us?" She went across the room for a cigarette and her holder. I had bought the latter for her on eBay after she told me she had always used one. It kept the fire away from her feathers. As she collected her paraphernalia, Jake trotted to the back door and looked over his shoulder at me. I got up and let him out.

"You could've asked me to get that for you," I said, returning to the warm spot on the floor. I watched her work with the phalanges at her wingtips. Their dexterity was remarkable. She could do everything that had to be done with her cigarettes now, including opening the pack and lighting them. All it had taken was practice and a pushbutton lighter.

"You know I don't like asking for things," she muttered, clenching the holder between her teeth. She returned wearing only a veil of smoke, lay down next to me and set an ashtray in front of her. "Moving around is good for me."

That isn't, though, I thought, but said nothing. She would have become contrite, and under the circumstances, anything that gave her pleasure was fine by me. Hadn't she lost enough? I wasn't about to suggest that she give up something else.

"Jerry?" She waved a hoof in front of my eyes.

"Oh." I had zoned out. She was easy to zone out on. "Efen her shmokink ish graishful!" I said, touching her mane, and she laughed. It had become a running joke, but it also happened to be true.

"So, anyway," she said, "how do uncanny coincidences in a cartoon help me get back home?"

Without the slightest inkling of what I was about to do, I suddenly threw my arms around her neck and pressed my face into her mane. She froze, then hesitantly wrapped her unoccupied wing around my shoulders. "What brought this on?" she whispered.

She jerked her wing up as I released her, but did not fold it. I flopped back onto my stomach. "Just the thought of you leaving," I admitted, wiping my eyes. "Sorry, Shy. That was me being selfish."

It took me a moment to retrace my thoughts. "It gives me a lead," I said. "I need to talk to someone on the bleeding edge of consciousness research, probably at Princeton, but it has to be someone with a background in theoretical physics who I can absolutely trust. I can't risk them taking one look at you and running..."

As I spoke, she slowly spread her wing and covered me with it. "Jerry...?"

"What?" I looked up into her eyes, and what I saw there sent a high-voltage jolt down my spine all the way to my toes.

"I didn't hear a word of that," she said. "Please go back to being selfish... if that's all right with you."

She lay on top of me with her wings spread out to either side of us. They took up a good deal of floor space, but she seemed almost weightless.

"Do you feel all right about this?" I asked.

"Mostly, yes," she said. "How about you?"

"Same here. Mostly yes, but I won't lie and say it isn't weird. What does this make us, Shy? Zoophiles or xenophiles?"

"I don't know those words, but if the first one means what I think it does, it's insulting, and I've been tortured with it all my life. I love animals, but not like this. I'm guessing the other one means 'alien lover,' right?"

How does someone that bright get beaten down to where she thinks she's nothing? "Right," I said, "Or just 'lover of foreign things' in general, but it means both."

"That's what we are then," she said decisively, and kissed me. "You're no animal. I don't know what you are, but we're the same on the inside. You're a truly gentle soul. You're more equine than most of the stallions I've met."

"If I told you you're more human than most of the people I've met, would you be flattered or insulted?"

"Flattered," she said. "Same difference." She began sweetly kissing my neck, my collarbones, my chest...

I had not yet slipped out of her, and I started to throb again. "Oh, my," she sighed, and pushed herself up into a sitting position, flapping her wings. They blew a stack of junk mail off an end table and scattered some magazines, but I scarcely noticed. I put my hands around her waist and helped.

"Did my head just explode," she murmured, "or did it just feel that way?"

"I don't know about your head, but something sure did. Good Lord! I haven't recharged that fast since I was in my twenties."

"Well, I am in my twenties, sir, and nopony has ever done that to me."

I coughed. "Could you just, uh, say 'nobody,' Shy? That word kind of freaks me out."

"I'm sorry! I can see why it would. 'Nobody' it is."

"Good. We both have bodies." I ran my hands up her belly and stroked her chest, gently exploring the two erect, rosy buttons that peeked from her coat. She arched her back invitingly. Her breasts weren't permanently swollen like a woman's, but they were every bit as sensitive and as cute as the rest of her. "I'm glad these are in the same place as ours," I said.

She shook her head rapidly. "Where else would they be?"

"On our ponies, they're between their hind legs."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Well! I am not a cow. I'm not even a pony the way you mean it."

I had shown her pictures of ponies, and she had agreed: they looked nothing like her. She wasn't even from a similar evolutionary tree. On top of the myriad other differences, not the least of which being her not-even-vaguely-equine cranium, she had six limbs. That made no sense at all given the physiology of non-pegasi, but I didn't feel like pondering evolutionary biology right then. The biology I was interested in was of a more plebeian sort.

As I caressed her nipples, she put her velvety lips to work on mine. I was still inside her, and she moaned as I began to pulsate once more.

"Oh, sweet Celestia!" she gasped. "Three?"

Yes, dear God, three.

I had carried her upstairs to bed. It was only around eight o'clock, so we might even manage a fourth before we slept. However, for now, completely spent, we lay on our sides face to face, nuzzling, caressing, frequently entwined.

I was coming to realize that I had never loved a woman this much. I made no move to turn off the light. I wanted to gaze at her until the sun went cold. "You're prettier than humans," I said.

"That's sweet, Jerry, but it isn't true."

"Yes it is, Shy. You're angelic."

Very gently, she took my right forearm between her hooves and lifted my hand from her hip. She was getting quite strong, and she had the muscle definition and lean build to show for it. "I don't have anything as beautiful as these," she said.

"Your wings," I suggested.

"Oh, those. When they're spread in flight I guess, maybe. I've always hated mine. They're awkward and spraddley."

"No they're not!"

"Yes, Jerry, they are. I've been teased about it since I was a foal. If you could see Dash in flight — the real Dash, I mean — you would agree with me."

"I don't think so." I hesitated. "Doesn't she like mares?"

"Well, I think so. She's discreet."

"Not my type."

"That doesn't make her any less beautiful. Sometimes I've fantasized about her myself."

"Really? You're bisexual?" I didn't relish the thought of sharing her.

She thought about it before answering. "Not rea... maybe. I don't know. Sexually, I prefer males, no two ways about it. Emotionally? Let's just say that stallions haven't always been nice to me."

"I'm sorry, Shy. You deserve better."

She clutched my hand to her breast and smiled. "I have that now," she said.

I had been slowing down in recent years and it had worried me; however, I apparently just hadn't found the right partner. I brushed her mane away from her sweet face and kissed her. "I love you, Shy," I said.

"I love you too. I was hoping you'd at least kiss me the night I asked you to stop sleeping on the floor, but you didn't take the hint."

"Was that a hint? I just figured you felt sorry for me and wanted, you know, a teddy bear."

"Teddy bears don't feed me and talk to me and bathe me and make me feel safe and warm," she said, "and they don't look at me the way you do, either."

"No, I guess they're not much good for any of that."

She sighed. "What are we going to do about us?"

"Get married?"

She uttered an adorable squeak and her eyes got... well, they were always huge. Would enormous be the right word? Gigantic? Tremendous? I'm at a loss. "Don't tease me," she said. Her voice trembled. "I can't handle it right now. There isn't a thing in our two worlds that I want more, but you know as well as I do that it's impossible."

"Oh, yeah?" I said, "How about this then?" I took her little hoof in both my hands and raised it into the air. "I, Jerry O'Hare, take thee Fluttershy to be my beloved and cherished wedded wife, regardless of what the stinking law says. Do you, Fluttershy, take Jerry to be your unlawful but absolutely adoring and committed husband for as long as you both shall live?"

"I duh... do-hoo!" she sputtered, laughing and sobbing at the same time.

"I hereby pronounce us husband and wife. We may now kiss, lick, caress, fondle and otherwise pleasure each other to our hearts' content, in the presence of God, Celestia, Frank Zappa and any other supernatural beings who might be window-peeking. Amen."

She kissed me and pressed her wet face against my neck. "You're wonderful," she said.

"You are too. I'm serious, by the way. We can make that official if there's any way to do it, but I'm pretty sure there isn't on this planet. It's not even easy for gay couples to get married here. What about yours?"

"You know, it might be possible if we can get there. You only have one intelligent species. We have at least eight, and there are still a lot of places we haven't explored. As far as we're concerned, if it talks, it's a person. Not only that, we only have one monarch to convince, and Twilight has her ear. You wouldn't have to hide, that's for sure!"

"Really? Too bad I didn't fall into your bedroom instead."

"Would you really be willing to live there?"

"In a heartbeat, honey. Where you go, I go... if possible. We don't know yet. I reckon we'll fall off that bridge when we come to it."

"It's traditional to carry brides over the threshold," I explained as I carried Shy down the stairs. "You're already here, so this is our tradition."

"Just be careful," she said, tightening her embrace. She had a point. Although even leaner than she had been when I first saw her, she was at least ten pounds heavier. Muscle weighs more than fat.

It was the day following the consummation of our love for each other. I had asked her to remain upstairs that morning, and she played along, anxious, amused and wary in equal parts.

I made preparations all morning and quickly set things up while she did her afternoon workout. Then I bathed her as usual (well, not quite as usual — it became quite erotic), dried her, brushed her mane and carried her down the stairs.

I reached the bottom and turned the corner into the dining room. "Jerry!" she squeaked.

"I've been busy," I said, seating her on a cushion at the table.

I had shortened its legs. It was now traditional Japanese style, the proper height for diners seated on the floor. That was the kind she told me her people really used.

Equestria did not look quite as the cartoon depicted it. From Shy's description, I gathered that the architecture really was reminiscent of a Bavarian village, but the furnishings and implements were made for hoofed creatures who sat on their haunches. It sounded like a hodgepodge of European, Asian and completely otherworldly design.

I lit the candles. Her eyes glittered. "This is just beautiful," she sighed, close to tears.

"I just wish I knew how to make dresses like your friend," I said, serving her. I had called out for Chinese, which she loved. Her portion was supplemented with her usual side items from a feed store.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I think my attire is ideal for this occasion." We were both nude, of course. I hardly ever wore clothes around the house anymore.

Even if I had been able to give her a Rarity Original, it still would have been appropriate for a honeymoon. Shy's friend didn't design dresses in the conventional sense. They were adornments meant to accentuate, not to conceal. By human standards, they sounded quite bawdy. Breasts and genitals were left exposed. Stallions did not have nipples (Shy had told me the night before that my body offered the best of all possible worlds), but their chest muscles were nevertheless considered handsome. Rarity did not believe a design was successful unless it made the opposite sex want to tear it off.

"I wish I'd had time to get a pair necklaces," I said. "They'd be good substitutes for wedding rings."

"Please stop wishing. This is perfect!" She started to cry. "You really were serious last night!"

"As serious as I've ever been about anything." My eyes started to well up, too. "'I love you' doesn't even begin to express how I feel about you, honey. I adore you. I'd call it damn close to worship, except that word is too reverent considering what I want to do to you right now."

"Then let's eat fast," she said, looking slightly embarrassed, wiping away a tear.

I raised a snifter of brandy and she did the same. Toasting was a tradition in her culture as well. "To us," I said. Our glasses clinked.

I had another surprise, which I told her about as we ate. "I think I found our physicist," I said.

She stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. "You mean someone who can explain how I got here?"

"Yes."

She set her fork down, folded her wing and lowered her head. "This is strange," she said softly. "I'm not even sure how to feel about that."

"What do you mean?"

She resumed eating and considered her answer before she spoke. "We just got married," she said, "or as close to it as we'll probably ever come. How did you expect me to feel?"

I went around the table and hugged her. "Oh, honey! I didn't even think about that angle. I just meant I found the name of a guy who might be able to explain what happened, and he sounds like someone we can trust. I didn't mean he would send you home. Honestly, that might not even be possible, but wouldn't you at least like an explanation?"

She wrapped a wing around me. "It's all right. I'm just all mixed up. My reaction even surprised me."

"It's just an option," I said, returning to my seat. "I don't have to follow up on it, and even if I do, we can decide how to proceed at every step. It's not like the guy is going to show up, wave a magic wand and send you home."

"It might be just that fast where I come from," she said, brightening a little. "I keep forgetting that things don't work the same way here."

Dr. Hutchison Carter
Global Consciousness Project
Princeton University
Princeton, NJ 08544

Dear Dr. Carter,

(Introductory Paragraph Omitted to Preserve Anonymity)

I possess certain knowledge of, and access to, a persistent physical anomaly that I believe directly relates to your work. I hope you will forgive me for being vague, but the truth is that any claims I made in writing would be too incredible to believe. I want you to see it, touch it, and perform whatever experiments you deem necessary to verify its existence for yourself. To this end, I will reimburse you for travel and accommodations, and will also pay a reasonable fee.

For the purposes of this letter, that is as much as I am prepared to say, although I will be happy to answer any further questions you might have to the best of my ability. I would prefer, however, to answer them by phone at the number provided in my letterhead. I cannot emphasize enough how sensitive this information is. Frankly, I would rather keep it out of writing for now. My professional reputation is at stake.

Very Truly Yours,
(Signature Omitted)

Dear Mr. —,

Thank you for your letter. We regret to inform you that Dr. Carter is no longer with the University. We will attempt to forward your request; however, we can provide you with no further information at this time.

Sincerely,
(Name and Department Omitted)

"Looks like I struck out, honey," I said.

"Oh, well. Maybe he'll still get in touch. They said they would forward your request."

"Maybe, but don't hold your breath. It looks like a form letter. Some secretary probably just typed his name and mailed it. They probably threw my letter in the trash."

She embraced me with all four upper appendages, which is a wonderful feeling no matter how icky it sounds. "The important thing is that you tried," she said.

"I'll keep trying, too. He just looked like a good bet: solid credentials, but out on the fringe. Even so, he's as respected as someone in his field of research can be — plus, he's not famous. I have a couple of other guys in mind, but both of them are."

"What's wrong with famous?"

"Maybe nothing, but I don't want anyone to arrange a press conference and turn you into a freak. The first guy I thought of would never do that. He's one of the kindest people I've ever met, but he's a computer scientist and astrophysicist. I need someone deep into theoretical physics. The other one has exactly the background I'm looking for, but he's a mainstream celebrity and I've never actually met him. I don't know what he would do."

She held up a hoof. "Say no more," she said. "I know all about being exploited by powerful celebrities. I was a model, remember?"

"How could I forget? That's exactly the kind of thing I want to avoid."

The days rolled by with breakneck speed. I had enough money in the bank to cover us for awhile, so I took a break from writing. It was our honeymoon, and the most blissful month of my life. My only chore was bathing and grooming Shy, but that could hardly be called a chore now. Bath time was lovemaking time. So was bedtime, naturally. Shy no longer had to work out on a set schedule; she was getting all the exercise she needed. Every waking minute was lovemaking time. We couldn't get enough of each other.

I was planning on remodeling the upstairs bathroom to Equestrian specifications. My tub was too small. Sharing a big Jacuzzi with her would be heavenly.

Five weeks after our lives as a married couple had begun, I decided it was time to get back to some sort of professional routine. I had not been answering my phone, only checking my voice mail to see if there were any important messages. There hadn't been; nevertheless, when the phone rang, I picked it up and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Yes, I'd like to speak with Jerome O'Hare."

Oh, Lord, a salesman, I thought. "May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Hutch Carter. Mr. O'Hare was trying to reach me."

It took me a moment to make the connection. "Dr. Hutchison Carter?"

"Yes, formerly of Princeton. I was a..."

"Dr. Carter! Hello! This is Jerry O'Hare. Sorry, I thought you were someone trying to sell me something."

He laughed. "No, I just got your letter. To be honest, at first I thought someone was pulling my leg, but your bibliography says otherwise. So, tell me, what's going on?"

As he was speaking, Shy walked into the room. I gave her a thumbs-up. "Just a moment," I said to Carter. I told her who it was; she looked startled and raised a hoof.

"Dr. Carter?"

"Yes."

"I mentioned a physical anomaly that I would like for you to examine. I'm looking at it right now."

"All right. What is it?"

"I believe it to be an artifact of extradimensional origin."

Long silence. "Are you putting me on?"

"No, but perhaps now you understand why my letter was vague."

"Yes, if you're serious I do. Please describe the artifact."

"It's actually a sapient creature, Dr. Carter."

"What?"

"You heard me. A sapient creature. An intelligent life form. A non-human person. A 'visitor,' and she's looking at me right now."

Carter was silent for so long I thought he'd hung up. "'She?' It's alive? Are you sure you don't have a deformed woodchuck in a cage or something?"

"No, she's not in a cage! I said she was intelligent, and of course she's alive. She's communicative. I would let you speak to her, but frankly, she communicates so well that it wouldn't prove a thing." As I was speaking, Shy opened her mouth, thought better of it and closed it again.

"Let me make sure I have this straight," Carter said. "You have a non-human creature in your custody that speaks perfect English, right? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yes! I told you it was incredible."

"It's not as incredible as you might think, but buddy, if you're yanking my chain, I will see to it that..."

"I don't appreciate threats, Dr. Carter," I said.

"Sorry. That was uncalled for. I've been under a lot of stress. More than I can say, actually, but I really won't be happy if you're wasting my time."

"I don't believe you'll find this a waste of time, sir. It won't take you ten seconds to verify what I'm telling you, but you'll have to come here to do it. Obviously, words won't suffice. Photographs or video won't either. All of that crap could be faked. If you come here, though, I guarantee that you'll leave without a shred of doubt in your mind."

He sighed. "Where do you want me to come?"

"Charleston, South Carolina."

"Well," he said, "You won't have to send plane tickets. I'm only two hours away, in Columbia."

"Really?" This was another remarkable coincidence, but I was getting used to them.

"Yes. Give me your address. If it's convenient for you, I can be there this afternoon. Say, around four PM?"

"That's perfect. I'll be expecting you." I gave him my address, thanked him, and hung up.

"Jerry, I don't feel good about this."

I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Honey, this is what you wanted me to do!"

"I know I did! Don't ask me to explain why I feel this way. I just do! Please, call Dr. Carter back and cancel. Tell him it was a joke after all! Tell him anything! Just... let's not go through with this, all right?"

I was already dressed. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "It's too late, Shy. He's already made the drive. He'll be here any minute."

She started to cry. "Jerry..."

"Listen, sweetie, it'll be all right, I promise. You just stay here in the bedroom, and I'll feel the guy out. If he gives me the creeps, I'll make up some excuse and send him away. He needs to see you, honey! You're the only proof we have that what happened to you is even possible!"

She stared at the floor. A big tear ran down the side of her muzzle, hung from her nose for a second and fell. "All right, Jerry. I suppose you know..."

The doorbell rang.

"That's him," I said. "You just stay here. I guarantee you, I won't let him see you unless I think he's okay." I started to leave.

"Jerry," she said, "I'm sorry I'm such a coward. I know you're doing this for me. I love you."

I stopped with my hand on the knob. "I love you too, Shy. It'll be okay, I promise."

She looked up at me from under her mane, nodded slightly and tried to smile. I went downstairs, closing the door behind me.

Carter was older than I had expected, fiftyish, but with a youthful voice and sharp, sad eyes. Tall and thin, he had a full head of wavy, graying hair and a lean, angular face. He looked more like a poet than a physicist.

"Have a seat, Dr. Carter," I said. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Please, call me Hutch. Water would be nice. I don't dare risk anything stronger. I'm driving."

I fetched him a glass of ice water and sat down. "I know what I told you on the phone sounded stupid, but it's the honest-to-God truth. She's upstairs right now, scared out of her wits."

"You keep saying 'she.' How do you know it's female?"

"You won't have any trouble figuring that out when you meet her, believe me."

"Ah. She's humanoid?"

"No, but her voice and personality are so human that if I'd put her on the phone, you would have thought I was attempting a very stupid hoax. Actually, she looks a bit like a winged doe."

His eyes widened. "A deer?"

"A female deer," I confirmed, smiling crookedly.

Carter chuckled. "Re, a drop of golden sun," he sang, then addressed himself in a deep voice: "Okay, Hutch, knock it off."

I liked this guy.

He blinked a few times, looking thoughtful, then continued: "I must say, Mr. O'Hare, that's a new one on me. Bald-headed gray dudes with big black eyes, intelligent dinosaurs, sasquatches, fairies... I've seen a lot of those, always in blurry photographs or bad Photoshop images, but this is my first talking winged deer."

"It gets weirder. She's not a deer and she doesn't call herself one. I'll let her tell you what she is. It'll sound better coming from her."

"Cryptic," he said. "I like it!"

"You believe me?"

"I'll tell you that after I see her. Let's just say I don't disbelieve you yet."

I stared at him for a moment before speaking. "You know something you can't say, don't you?"

He shot me a penetrating look, "If I knew anything I can't say, I couldn't say it, could I?" Then he gave me the tiniest of nods.

"Understood. Would you like to meet her now?"

"In a minute. There are some things I want to know first. Mainly, what do you hope to gain from this?"

"Well, the brass ring would be if you can send her back where she came from, but I suppose that's another one of those things where if you told me you could, you'd have to kill me, right?"

He stared fixedly at me for some time before answering. "Not necessarily," he said. "How did you first encounter her?"

"Incredible as it sounds, she fell to the floor out of thin air in the very same room she's waiting in now."

"Really? You found her in this house and she told you this?"

"Told me? Well, yes, she confirmed it, but I was there. I was asleep, but the thump when she hit the floor woke me up. I turned on the light, and there she was."

Carter was frowning. "That must have been terrifying," he said.

I nodded. "You have no idea. She has huge, reflective eyes, and those were the first things I saw in the dark. Scared me out of my wits! Things got much easier once I found the nerve to turn on the light. She's actually very cute."

He was resting his chin on his chest, gazing at the floor. "I believe you," he said. "I can't tell you why, but I do." He paused. "Has she had anything to eat or drink since she got here?"

"Well, of course. She's been here for six months."

"Wow. That complicates things. Who else knows about this?"

"No one. I didn't dare. I went through Research Hell to find you. How many legitimate, credentialed theoretical physicists are there who would listen to this kind of woo-woo with a straight face?"

"You'd be surprised, but we're not easy to find — not from information that's readily available to the public, anyway. You're familiar with the scientific community. I'm sure you know why."

"You bet I do. Career suicide."

He nodded. "There are circles in which things like this can be discussed, but the mainstream publications ain't them. Things are loosening up a bit, but we have a long way to go."

"Do you think you can help her?"

"Maybe. We'll see. However, I can't stress this enough: Are you certain that no one else has seen her?"

"Yes, no one. Just me and my dog Jake, but he doesn't count, does he?"

Carter looked startled. He blinked. "That's a good question. I don't actually know. I suppose we'll find out."

I had no idea what he was thinking, but in truth, I wasn't paying close attention. I was preoccupied with my recollection of how frightened Shy had been when I left her upstairs. I trusted Carter, but was I really going to show her to him in spite of her anxiety? I decided I was.

"I'll bring her down," I said.

"No, don't do that. You said the most important thing was sending her home, right?"

"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with it?"

"Maybe nothing, maybe everything. You said she's in the room where she first appeared?"

"That's where I left her. I didn't lock her in or anything, but we would hear her if she was walking around. I assume she's still there, probably asleep."

"Good," Carter said. "This situation is about as promising as it could get. It might be that she can go home."

"Really? That would be awesome!"

"Don't get your hopes up. We'll see." He stood up. "Lead on," he said, gesturing.

"Right this way."

He stopped me at the foot of the stairs. "One last thing," he said quietly. "I need to go into the room first. I have my reasons, but they're pretty esoteric. It comes down to a matter of perception."

"Perception?"

"Yes, perception. Measurement. Entanglement. Consensus reality. To be honest, I'm deep into one of my own wild hypotheses now, but this will be a good test of its validity. I'd rather not explain any more than that. If I'm wrong, I'll explain it to you both in a moment. If I'm right, well... we'll see."

I was still lost in guilt over going against Shy's wishes, but damn it, this was what she had asked for. If this man thought there was a chance of her seeing her home again, I was going to let him call the shots.

"Be very quiet now," he said. "Just point at the right door, and step back. All I'm going to do is open it and look in. You can come in right behind me."

"You're the expert," I said, and I led him up the stairs.

I pointed at the door to the master bedroom and stepped back. In one smooth, fast, silent motion, Carter put his hand on the knob and opened it, and something happened that I can't put into words. It was a bit like going blind, deaf and insensate while paradoxically seeing a blinding white light and experiencing ghastly nausea and vertigo all at the same time, but that's a lame description. Reality pulled! That's the best I can do. Simple descriptions are the best.

Carter staggered back, my hands flew to my head and...

REALITY PULLED!

I believe we both would have puked if time itself hadn't hiccupped. When I could think clearly again, I was breathing hard, doubled over with my hands on my knees. Carter was in exactly the same shape.

"Whewww," he breathed, "Whhheeeeewww..." He stared bug-eyed at the floor, making no attempt to stand up straight.

"Man," he said, "when the gods do a rough edit on the film, it's baaad!" He took a couple of staggering steps and straightened up.

"What the hell just happened?" I demanded.

He pointed into the bedroom. "See for yourself."

I rushed in. Fluttershy was nowhere to be seen.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

He blinked at me, clearly astonished. "I did what you asked."

I was going to pass out. I knew it. I...

When I came to, Carter's face was the first thing I saw. I would have strangled him if I'd had the strength, but I didn't. I stared at him for a frozen moment, then burst into tears. "She's gaw-haw-haw-haw-hawn!" I heard myself sob. "Oh, sweet Jesus, man! What the fuck did you do?"

He looked very sad. "I'm sorry, Mr. O'Hare. I did what I thought you wanted. Here, let me help you up."

I pushed him away and staggered to the bed under my own power. Sitting on its edge, I buried my face in my hands.

"You loved her," he said. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I didn't think it was any of your goddamn business," I whispered hoarsely.

He sat down next to me. Resting his elbows on his knees, he clasped his hands together and stared straight ahead at the wall. "Listen," he said, "I know how you feel. I really do. I'd like to say more, but I can't. I hope you understand why."

I didn't understand at all. I didn't understand anything. "What just happened?" I asked for what must have been the fourth time.

"That was a very rough, very sloppy wave function collapse," he said. "It was the perfect storm of wave function collapses, and everybody on Earth felt it. They'll blot it out though, because the human brain is great at walling off things it can't handle. Do you follow me?"

I nodded miserably, thinking of Schrödinger's Cat. "I was holding her here with duct tape and bailing wire, so you peeked into the box and..." I trailed off.

"I killed the cat," he finished, "although if it's any consolation, she's not dead. She's home. She was never fully grounded on this timeline. Her superposition was unstable. You and your dog don't get to veto consensus reality."

"So why do I remember her, and how can both Copenhagen and many-worlds be true?"

He sighed. "Because they're both right and wrong at the same time, and sometimes reality doesn't make sense."

Epilogue:
Riding the Pale Horse

Everything is covered in gray dust. There are cobwebs in the corners and moldy dishes in the sink. I haven't done a lick of housework in six months, and until I started this, I hadn't written a word in almost seven.

I did do one thing, though. I took the table I shortened out into the back yard and chopped it to bits, then I burned the pieces. It was the closest I could come to having a funeral for her. I know Carter said she just went home, but that makes no difference. She's no longer in this world. That's as dead as anyone gets.

It's not even correct to say she's still alive somewhere else. She came from an entirely different universe. In that context, "now" has no meaning. There is no "now." It would make as much sense to say, "Meanwhile, two thousand years in the future..."

If the timeline was crudely edited, as Carter said, I still don't understand why I remember her, but I do. I wish my memories had been erased, but they weren't. Jake obviously remembers her, too. He still lies in the spot where she used to play with him and whines. He looks at me in a way that seems to beg for comfort, but I don't have any to offer. I usually don't have the energy to walk across a room.

I said early on that I was preserving my anonymity because I'd like to be able to earn a living, but that was before I finished this. Now that I've retraced all my steps, I can clearly see where they lead. My anonymity doesn't matter. I haven't made a dime in over half a year.

Who was I kidding? This is the last sentence of the final chapter.

THE END