//------------------------------// // CHAPTER NINETEEN: Feeling Ways About Stuff // Story: The What and Whatiful Who // by cosby7 //------------------------------// As walls of shadow gave way to walls of plaster and cement, the next portion of History Kingdom quickly became unmistakable: It was a museum. Trixie had a hunch, and if years of being the Great and Powerful Trixie had taught her anything, it was to believe in the hunches of the Great and Powerful Trixie, it was a history museum. Gone was the narrow path that led through stone pillars and ghastly carvings. Instead, they found themselves in a room that started opening up wide and did not seem to stop. If the entrance chamber was not large enough, it continued out in all directions, allowing for a set of hallways off to the left and right and a broad staircase at the opposite end of the chamber, which appeared to lead up to a second level. Everywhere they looked, their eyes were met by hanging portraits and paintings, glass display cases, framed documents, and enormous dioramas. Pictures of ponies, both regal and more modest, lined the walls. Mesmerized by the display, Trixie walked across the floor to one of the nearest dioramas. It depicted a multitude of tiny ponies in a classroom of some sort, baffled and anguished. A tiny placard read “A World Without Dioramas.” Baffled, though not so much anguished, herself, Trixie turned back to the Doctor. As soon as she did, she noticed that his gaze too was drawn to something. Instead of one of the many exhibits though, his eyes were drawn skyward. Trixie followed his line of sight, only then noticing a massive banner that hung from the museum rafters. In large goofy font it read, “Learn about the past for a fun-filled future!” Somepony certainly had a strange sense of humor. Still, at least it wasn’t as obvious as a crack about history “coming alive.” And then the exhibits came to life or something. That would just be lazy. “What do you think it means?” she asked him, indicating the banner. Quickly, he exhaled, pulling away from the silly sign to regard her question. “My guess,” he started with just the slightest hint of uncertainty, “is that we need to start learning some history, if we want to make it out of here.” “That is what I was afraid of,” she responded glumly. “Trixie finds history to be absolutely boorish.” “I think you mean ‘boring,’” the Doctor replied, as he made his way over to a bust of civil rights leader for pony-hybrids, the phamous Phineas Phive Legs. The bust did not really do him justice. “No, Trixie meant exactly what she said. She finds history to be crude and insensitive,” she lectured. “It’s always so unyieldingly specific. There are never any mentions of the great stage unicorns of the past, let alone the Greatest and most Powerful one.” “Take it from somepony who has shown up in more than one history book,” he said from across the room, shutting the book he looked through for emphasis, “fame is overrated.” “Spoken like a true amateur,” Trixie mumbled. Making sure not to lose track of one another entirely, the two split up to explore the entrance chamber of the museum separately. Just like every other inch of Ponyville Pen, there was something off about the place. While it was not especially unnatural for a museum to be quiet, it was certainly odd for it to be uninhabited. There were no sounds, no ambiance, no atmosphere. It was not an easy thing to explain, even to one’s self, but it felt like everything about the building was truly dead and gone. The bright red plaster of the walls stood out brightly against the various dully colored displays. Whereas the path that had taken them there was an unyielding terrain, the floor on which they stood here was soft and pliable; a carpet that contained a garish mix of colors in spirals and mosaics. Besides the large banner, an ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling. With the dead atmosphere and offensive decor, the room felt more like it belonged in a haunted house than a museum. It occurred to Trixie that the two were not mutually exclusive. Of course, the decor was not all that caught her eye. Meandering around she beheld the various exhibits that greeted their patrons, although, perhaps “greeted” was not the right word. There were more than a few documents of presumably historical relevance, but Trixie hurried past the better portion of them. She had always been a bigger fan of the spoken word. When not vitally necessary, reading was for rubes. Instead, she caught herself looking further still at some of the dioramas or examples of “authentic pony dress.” However, it was the paintings, more than anything, that really captured her attention. Quite a few were portraits of some very important ponies, mainly personages of Equestrian royalty. There were plenty of other paintings, as well. Landscapes and works of impressionism, experimental works by pegasus artists done entirely by wingpoint, and even portraits depicting some less illustrious ponies. One painting was simply a close up on a flank with a large tomato cutie mark, split up into a two by two grid, with a different color scheme in each box. Even so, it was the gorgeous soft colors, thick brush strokes, and elaborate detail depicting the most glamorous of the Great and Powerful ponies that Trixie truly admired. Some might call it shallow, but Trixie did not regard such trifling contrariness worth dignifying. Pretty was pretty and she would make no apologies for recognizing the obvious. However, as she admired the portraits of pony royalty, Trixie noticed two troubling omissions: Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. The more she searched, the more clear it became that not a single portrait of the royal pony sisters was included among the displays. Trixie admitted that it was very possible that the princesses may not have been around for a while, she honestly had no idea how long their lifespans lasted, but surely they could not be forgotten entirely. Perhaps their portraits had their own section? “Trixie, over here!” Hearing the Doctor’s call, she pushed the thought from her mind. Following the sound of his voice, it did not take her long to find him. At some point he had made his way over to the grand staircase that waited at the back of the chamber. As she made her way to his side, he nodded, grimacing all the while, at a sign hanging just off to the side and pointing up the stairs. When she looked at what it said, the Doctor’s frown made a great deal of sense: “Celestial Revolution to Present.” “Celestial Revolution?” Trixie asked out loud. She was not the perfect student of history, but she had never heard about anything so grand as a revolution in Equestria since thousands of years before her time. And that “Celestial” was definitely worrying. Was it talking about Princess Celestia? “Okay, what do you think that means?” “Let’s find out,” Doctor Hooves replied, his voice completely devoid of humor. This grim mood of his was starting to worry her, actually. They started climbing the stairs in tandem, but Trixie barely noticed. Her concentration was focused more on casting furtive glances at the unyielding grumpiness of her earth pony companion. “Um, Doctor?” “Yes?” he replied absentmindedly. “Is there something wrong?” “What? No. Nothing.” “Oh, don’t be like that,” she chided. “We’re friends, right? You can tell me.” “Trixie, please,” he evaded with growing impatience. “Just don’t worry. I’ll get you out of this.” “Is that what this is about?” she groaned and stopped mid-step. Taking a stand, she waited until the brown stallion turned to acknowledge her. “Trixie, what are you—” “Doctor Hooves!” she called at him, glowering. “You have the privilege of being friends with the Great and Powerful Trixie and you have the gall to show her such deference? Trixie has certainly not made it this far due to your skills at protection!” Her face softened then. She smiled warmly. “I’ve come this far with you, because you’ve believed in me. Don’t throw it all away now.” His face widened then into that trademark wild grin, but Trixie could tell it was forced this time. Despite his best efforts, he could not hide the pain behind it. “You people, you just keep saving me.” He kept talking, but it seemed to be focused more at himself than at her. “For all the times I save you, it’s like I’m only returning the favor.” Maybe he wasn’t talking to himself, after all. It was like he was talking to somepony, someponies, who weren’t there. “I was done for so long. Everything changed when I came here and I thought, ‘This could be it. They don’t need me anymore. They could never find me, like this. Maybe it’s time to stop doing more harm than good for all of them.’ Sure, I told myself it was all just a hiatus. Just a break until I got her working again. But in the back of my mind, I never stopped wondering if it was finally time. And then it called me back. Like it always has. So I went. And I immediately put another innocent in danger.” This time, he was definitely talking to Trixie. Her heart broke at his words. “I’m sorry. I should never have brought you here.” “But,” Trixie stammered, truly taken aback at the sincerity in her Doctor’s words, “I wanted to come. I begged you.” “You didn’t know what you were risking. I did. It was like inviting an infant.” “There was no way you could have known this would happen.” “Wasn’t there? It always happens. Every time. One way or another, they all disappear and it is always my fault.” “It wasn’t your decision!” Trixie screamed. Her eyes welled up with the tears he refused to shed. “What?” “It wasn’t your decision, Doctor,” she replied, finally regaining her confidence. “Trixie does not know what other ponies you are talking about or, really, any of the things you are talking about, but she knows how she feels. It was not your decision. It was mine. You had no right, no right to come there, to me, with your box full of mystery and your . . . your . . . you! You have no right to put that in front of a pony and then just walk away. The decision was Trixie’s to make. Do not dare take that from me. Do not make my decision your mistake.” Doctor Hooves looked well and truly stunned. It was a long moment before his mouth stretched once more into his coltish grin, but Trixie smiled as well when she saw the sincerity in it. “You really are quite the self-centered one, aren’t you?” Trixie met his jibe with a wounded pride act. “That’s funny coming from ‘Mr. All of Time and Space Revolves Around Me.’ Trixie speaks only the truth of her greatness.” “Well,” he lingered on the word in comic awkwardness, “I am pretty great.” “That you are, Doctor.” Her smile brightened. “You are learning from the best, after all. Now, lead on. With your help, the Great and Powerful Trixie shall uncover the mysteries of this pit and be back in time for, well, anything?” He chuckled before continuing to climb the stairs. “Yeah, time machine does have that advantage.” The laughter she returned as she made to follow behind him was light, but her heart still weighed heavy. I want to tell you. I want to ask you. Today is not the first time you saved me. It had never stopped troubling her since he had arrived at the Flim Flams' door both hours and centuries ago. She had told him that they met before, so why hadn’t he asked about it himself? There had to be a reason. All those years ago in the forest. The longer she waited to bring it up though, the more inappropriate it seemed. Was this little feelings jam her last chance? No. It’s not the right time, yet. I’ll tell him soon. With no small effort, Trixie steadied herself. She looked at the earnest grin on her friend’s face. Little else was needed for her expression to mimic his own. It was two genuinely grinning ponies that made their way up the stairs to History Kingdom's twisted center.