Those who are familiar with the warped and vaguely mind-bending progress that is the chapter between chapters know exactly what to do here, and also what it means. Those others, new to the story enormously, are regarded by a cast of several dozen characters as scrubs and recommended firmly to go to the original story and peruse it before going any further into this one.
Readers who are continuing, either because they have been there and done that, or are simply too headstrong and independent to be swayed by words in a story, are both gently instructed to look past the words, behind the words even. For most this reveals a white space without feature, looking in on a stage perhaps, without characters or props, both of which will be provided in time.
First, however, is the matter of your host.
A stallion has moved to stand center stage of this production, not from or to anyplace, but now here, staring silently towards the words. You know he’s been alluded to, recently enough even for those who didn’t go back to read to understand. He is not a good influence in this place, and certainly should not be the first on the damn stage. I hate this particular fellow, and it’s an annoying struggle not to be able to unseat him…
“Remember, Comet, though I let you live it’s only because your mind is all that’s driving this creation’s pen. If I didn’t care to continue the story I could end it and you along with it.”
Yeah, that’s him, apparently the style of writing that’s already been set up makes everything he says his own paragraph. He thinks he’s too good for “he said”, “she said” doctrine. Still, I’m not worried, if he ends the story he ends himself. You may be a god now i but you are still fiction.
The stallion, who I might add is still standing alone at center stage, was fuming. It was coming quickly into his attention that in this particular story great power came with great annoyance. The annoyance in particular this time was an author who simply would not be silent or even relinquish his pen.
“It’s just going to be you and me here, floating in the void isn’t it?”
So it seems, though I’m somewhat certain you’ll have to go into the story and play your part as a character every so often aren’t you?
“All in whatever time I decide ought to be given. Remember that I can always walk out on this story, and collapse you and your characters into an empty universe.”
And yet you don’t seem to be in that much control are you? Remember I made the characters, and a good chunk of the world, that means I get to control how they work. You leave and you’re gone i.
“And yet now I have the power to create do I not? As well as the control over non-sentient things, the nature is mine and so is any pony who is a stranger to your characters. I could turn the will of them all to my favor if I wanted.”
No, you couldn’t. Look, the whole character momentum thing I explained before is really cool and all but you’re forgetting another rule that puts things out of my control.
“My control.”
You know if you could just kind of, you know, shut the buck up and listen to the last guy in the position you’re in you might not be having so much trouble. What keeps you from doing anything that extreme, or really anything to give you extra advantage, is the law of realism. The world has rules, even if they’re arbitrary at times and tough to understand but you can’t bust the boundaries, it’s just not something you can do.
“And yet it is done, you know there are plenty of stories that do exactly that and get away just fine.”
I’m not saying it’s impossible but I will say this, it’s beyond your limits.
“Limits? You know just as much as I do that I have no limits. I am an omniscient and omnipotent god!”
Just omnipotent, keep in mind you’re kind of an idiot.
“Would an idiot-“
Yes.
“Excuse me?”
An idiot would absolutely be able to perform the plan you’re trying to carry out. Keep in mind while you aren’t omniscient, I am. Now, as I was saying, I am still the author, this is originally my story. While I made a character with all the power to change things to his will and then accidentally let him usurp my pen, or more often a pencil, yeah, it’s mine. I do write this too, before I type it, aids the process.
“No one is asking about that, it is inconsequential to MY story.”
Actually no it isn’t. It’s about to become an example. Your power is fueled by readers. The more you, or we, have the more easily chapters are produced. It’s literally just audience aid, super simple stuff. Now if you break the rules of character momentum or realism the story deteriorates. Now, I’m not perfect about that, but I’m still the author. And not to be prideful but I’m pretty damn good, so since it’s my pen you still have to make the story a good one. You want to make it good anyway, if no one read this story your writing slave would lose motivation and just kind of cut it there.
“But… gah.”
i paces for a moment, thinking this through, apparently seeking loopholes in this little reverie. In a moment he finds one.
“The intermissions themselves, they break the rules of both. You casually change memories and turn the story into a glorified playwright! Your characters come in on schedule and it warps the universe.”
That’s for the sake of comedy, and I’m so satisfied to prompt a stunned silence from i as he gives me what is surely a dumbfounded expression under that cloak.
“But there can’t be comedy in this! You’ve written a tragedy!”
Yeah fimfiction seems to think so too, but hey I’m writing with characters who are about as close to adulthood as I am to winning a Pulitzer. Not saying either won’t happen but there’s a pretty impressive distance between. Either way comedy happens, realistically people make jokes even in dire times. Show me a soldier who didn’t crack at least one joke on duty and then promptly show him to a psychiatrist, he needs help. It’s stress relief, most of the time more for them than for anyone else but that’s how life flows. I guess you wouldn’t understand.
“Just because I’m your dark antagonist doesn’t mean I don’t have a humor. A good writer would naturally have humor. Watch, I can make the audience laugh. Here, what do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhino?”
Oh sweet Celestia…
“Elephino”
You’re stretching.
“Fine, if you think this job is so easy I’d like to see you do it!”
I’ve been doing it for twenty-something chapters. How about this, I bet I can prompt more humor with an anomalous duck than you can with the whole rest of the dialogue.
“That’s been done, make it an anomalous chicken and we’ll have a talking point.”
Chickens are funnier than ducks you complete toaster oven.
“Toaster oven?”
I’m trying not to swear, and look at that, I’ve already got more humor than you’ve produced right there. Actually, how about this: if I can make an anomalous toaster oven funnier than the whole rest of your dialogue then you have to give me my story back.
“Denied, I wouldn’t give this up for the life in me. Tell you what, I’ll raise you something else you want. Make this work and I’ll let more chemistry happen between… them”
Make that chemistry a full blown ship and we can get the ball rolling…
“Now aren’t you glad I have the power over the environment to make that happen? You weren’t even sure if that was possible.”
Go chew an egg.
“More importantly what happens if you’re wrong? A bet’s no fun unless both sides have something to gain.”
I admit I shuddered a little at this, a lot was at stake here. Unfortunately the answer was obvious. I’ll relinquish all control, the whole style of writing, everything becomes yours. It was a stupid bet to make maybe, but it was something…
“Hmm, that is quite the ultimatum, you know you’re in a poor bargaining position.”
No, it just comes with one thing. I want my intermissions back. And before you say anything remember you could get total control out of this.
“It’s not as though I was particularly fond of the idea anyway, but those readers seem to enjoy your little talk shows.”
He paused here, I knew he had to think about it even if I knew what he would say too.
“I accept your terms Comet Chaser. Let us enjoy this match.”
From seemingly nowhere the now familiar shape of the tan, bespectacled pegasus faded into view. I coughed twice, brushing away the last errant vestiges of materialization, it felt quite a bit like dust. The whole stage lightened greatly from its darkened color and it felt again like I was in the space behind my story.
“Enjoy yourself, Comet.”
i’s tail flicked once as he walked away from the stage, leaving me feeling lightheaded and somewhat giddy. I checked how much space that little squabble had taken in words and determined that I still had the entire world to write with. I took a steadying breath, pushed my glasses back up onto my face, and took a seat in a white lawn chair, the usual apparatus to hold my flank during these interviews, surely ready now for the intermission.
The tousled green mane preceded the colt as he entered form the left, the jagged burns through his hair and grey fur looking almost like jagged stripes. I felt a pang for him as he approached, realizing the fluffy little pegasus from the previous story had grown out of his shell…
“I haven’t seen you in awhile,” he said, sounding no less downtrodden than when he had been back at the castle “I hardly remembered who you were after all this time…”
Three years Shadow, is that really so long? Look, you don’t remember me when you’re out in the world anyway…
“What did you think you were doing?” he wasn’t quite shouting but his volume had gone up a few impressive notches “You’re the guy in control of all this, you nearly killed Lightning, you locked me off from my best friends, any of my friends, and you didn’t leave any way to fix it!”
Light and Shadow was a tragedy, you should’ve known that from the beginning…
I was cut off now, by the last sound I expected to hear, a laugh. “Yeah, that was real nice too wasn’t it? You took a six year old kid, cut him off from his mother, and then killed his dad. And worse? You gave me hope.” I could see tears threatening to slide down Shadow’s cheeks “Back then, when you talked to us before, I didn’t even think about it. But it was you the whole time! You made all this happen, you killed my dad!”
`I was speechless, at a total loss for anything to say at this point. I knew Shadow would’ve grown up quite a bit by now, but these outbursts were anything but what I expected. Were you really so depressed this whole time?
“No, being alone in the world up in a tower is a charmed life.” He paused here, realizing just as I did that this wasn’t quite as sarcastic of a statement as he had meant it to be “You’ve given me people to love and taken them away from me one at a time. It’s true what everyone says, if there is a god then he’s remarkably cruel…”
I’m not a god… The sentiment, those last words, were lost on Shadow, who had stoutly turned away from me, silently letting the tears roll down his face. His wings flared.
“That’s all I have to say to you…bastard…” he said in a quavery voice, before beating his wings and taking off. Within moments he was gone.
Now I had to admit I was afraid. My characters had grown up without me there to witness it, and it was true, they hadn’t lived the happiest of lives. I’ll admit even, they might as well be cursed. Would meeting the one who had scripted their story be such a painful ordeal for each of them?
It looked like I was doomed to find out, whether I liked it or not. The next entrant was just as familiar, red fur, electric blue mane, and a temper plastered on her face in all the brightest emotional colors.
“He was here wasn’t he?” she said, thankfully not sounding as mad as she looked “Shadow, I mean, he’s usually the first one in here. And I’m usually with him…”
I guess you at least remember me then.
“For now I do.” She said, the twin emerald points of her eyes focused on mine “You let me remember our little encounters while I’m here. And why wouldn’t I? These little meetings were almost magical. They were certainly fun.”
That they were, it’s good to see you again Lightning…
She shook her head, that wild flop of her mane almost breaking free of its single restraining band. “Where the Hell have you been?” she said, “I thought you were supposed to make sure we had adventures. Instead you somehow think it’s a good idea to separate us, what looks like for good, and let me live every day almost the same? What’s wrong with you?”
And there it was right out in the open, she trusted me even less than Shadow did. The difference was she didn’t feel betrayed, just angry. I wasn’t sure which I was more able to face.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have anything to say to me either,” said Lightning, sounding like ice “I mean you’re cool with knocking off Shadow’s dad, and both my parents, what does loneliness mean to you?” she shook her head “Is that just our purpose? To suffer for your writing and your reader’s entertainment?”
I don’t even know what to say in response to this, I’m not sure there’s even an argument to be made at this point. What had seemed previous as quite the decent plot seems, now, as if it were legitimate torture.
“I guess so huh…” she says, not interpreting my silence very nicely “That’s all you are, a murderer, and a real jerk to top it off.” She turned away now, apparently finished, and walked off, leaving me alone to ruminate on my crimes.
But were they crimes? Despite whatever reactions my aging characters have due to personality I can’t alter they are just that, characters. They continue to not be living or breathing beings, at least not on a certain plane of existence. God, science, everything is in the tip of my pen when I craft a world and I think the best thing to do would be to orphan two kids, blind another, and leave a fourth alienated by his own kind.
It’s like I’m as awful to them as our god is to us aren’t I? I can’t make a world where everything is good because it doesn’t fit my idea of real? The events I’ve made are scarring from any vantage. But… they’re growing pains, necessary events. Where I’ve put my characters is in a position where they have to go through pain and struggle to grow.
And I’m not sure if they can…
Willingly, I stand. The intermission is over isn’t it? It’s time to make good on the deal. The world slowly fades to gray again as I leave the stage, letting i take charge again. From somewhere unseen I can hear his voice.
“Did you enjoy the intermission?”
No.