//------------------------------// // XII: Contemplation // Story: A Prose By Any Other Name // by Jarvy Jared //------------------------------// Boss sat at his desk, reading over the report that Swol had sent in. He had to admit, that no matter how seemingly addlebrained the tan stallion was, he was highly efficient in his work—a skill that was highly sought after in the Family. The report was fairly simple, consisting of the monthly wages of all the workers. It also had the city’s economic status, housing status, plumbing, as well as general happiness—though that measurement was most likely varied between testers. The tan stallion certainly had upped his game ever since he arrived in the family all those years ago. Hmm. Just about the time that Prose did as well. Thinking that made Boss frown. It’s hard to believe that it’s been years since then. I was but a mere colt in a bigger, more dangerous world. He sighed. It was his Family that had gotten him through, but it was also his stubbornness and grit that helped him along the way. And Swol. Swol helped a ton. He would never admit it out loud, but that somewhat clumsy stallion was one of his best friends. Sure, Boss may have acted like he didn’t like him (or, at least, shown any preference); but that was part of the duty of being the bossman. He couldn’t afford to show any bias towards anypony when in the presence of others. Still, though, Swol had grown to become somepony that Boss could truly trust in his organization. Unlike that backstabbing, two-timing, betraying— He cut his own thoughts off with a sigh, flipping over the last page of the document. Such thoughts bred negativity; and in an organization as complex as his, it wouldn’t do to have the members see him in such a state. The moment he showed any signs of unease, he knew that somepony would step up and throw him out. He nearly chuckled out loud. Here, in his office, he was somewhat allowed to relax. His attitude was usually abrasive and rash; but it kept order, and that was all he cared about. Well, mostly all he cared about. He rubbed his eyes, still exhausted from the week’s events. Between managing a Family, managing the city, and managing the search parties, he had been driven to near insanity just trying to keep this place in any sort of order. It didn’t help that most of the lackeys were mumbling behind his back about him, or calling him overly obsessive with Prose. Only a few higher-ups actually cared enough to work; most others simply sat at their desk and did their best not to attract attention. He supposed it was to be expected. After all, all organizations had some workers who didn’t care much for the end goal. This realization, however, did little to improve his mood. He closed the folder, pushing to the side of his desk. He let out a breath, observing the room. Pine-green, wooden walls surrounded him, with faded white stripes serving as a nice contrast. A few paintings from olden times covered the sides, while an older chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a dim light. In the front of the room was a mahogany-wooden coat rack, with a brown peacoat and taupe fedora. He found himself staring at the door. His eyes traced his name embellished on the window, before settling on a faint silhouette behind it. He narrowed his gaze, before saying, “Come in.” The knob turned, and Swol entered. The tan, younger stallion glanced around as he walked towards Boss, clutching a set of envelopes with him. Boss nodded at him, allowing him to approach. Swol placed the envelopes on the desk. “Here ya go, Boss,” he said. “That’s our most recent reports on Prose’s disappearance. I’ve also got some more data on the current state of the city.” Boss nodded. “You work quickly, Swol. A shame that we don’t have that same efficiency when it comes to other things.” Swol nodded carefully, not responding. Boss took the envelopes and opened each one, peering at the contents within. He shuffled through them in a thoughtful silence. If we had somepony who was as smart as Prose, we’d have found that stallion by now, he thought. “Boss?” Swol suddenly asked. “I have a question…” He nodded. “What is it, Swol?” Swol scraped the ground nervously. “It’s… about Prose.” Boss stiffened, but nodded anyway, trying to make himself seem less hostile. “You say that… he isn’t beyond our reach. But…” Swol frowned. “What if he’s too stubborn to see that he needs to come back?” Boss also frowned, seeing the logic in Swol’s statement. “I suppose… if Prose is as smart as he always has been… then he should join us regardless of his attitude. He cares too much for this city, anyway.” “Don’t we all?” The question caught Boss off guard, and he looked at Swol in surprise. Swol’s eyes were vibrant and earnest, and he seemed to be pleading something silent with his superior. Boss sighed. “… Indeed we all did.” His frown deepened into a scowl. “In a way, we all still do.” He gestured a hoof to the window, emphasizing a silent point. Swol nodded. “Do you… do you think that’s why Prose left, then? That he didn’t think we cared?” “Maybe. Maybe not. Only Prose knows.” They returned to a thoughtful silence, with the stallion in question on their minds. They unconsciously avoided each other’s gazes, not wanting to see the hurt in the others’ eyes as a result of Prose’s absence. Finally, after many minutes, Boss spoke: “You’re… a good friend, Swol.” Swol’s eyes widened, and he frowned, thinking he had misheard him. “Boss…?” Boss simply nodded. Swol gave him a surprised look, but turned away. Another few minutes passed, the only other sounds between seconds being the quiet ticking of the nearby clock, as well as the subdued roar of the city. To both stallions, such sounds were commonplace; yet, as the minutes passed, they couldn’t help but feel that something was… missing. It was only a few moments after that both realized what it was. Opacare Prose. Swol may not have been around at the start of the Family, but he had been present back when Prose and Boss had been as close as brothers. He, too, had been welcomed into this subset of the family; a group of three stallions, who wanted to change the world. They had been different in nature, but united by their cause. Still, the question remained as to why Prose was now gone, seemingly from this earth. It made no sense to either of them; but then again, Prose had never been the most revealing of ponies. Admittedly, Swol and Boss could say that at points Opacare seemed to fall into his own, little world, abandoning the one he had for so long lived in. Boss had grown used to Prose’s antics; yet now, in light of the recent events, Prose’s now sudden absence seemed to be breaking every careful barrier that he had in place. Spite, anger, fury, and pain filled his heart, and he struggled to control himself and his emotions. Something told him to give up the hunt; to let Prose be free… but he knew that the missing stallion would never be free of his past. Yet who was he to judge? He, too, could never be free of his own follies. He only prayed that, when Prose returned to his side, the law of error would finally leave. Boss suddenly stood, the movement making Swol look at him. He stepped around his desk, moving quickly for the coat hanger. “I need to think,” he muttered to himself, not bothering to give Swol a parting look as he walked out the door. The hinges locked, and the door closed, clicking. Swol stood still, hearing the distant footsteps of Boss going downstairs. He heard the front door open, and heard the city suddenly explode in noise; before quieting up as the door closed. He worried for Boss, for his friend. The strain that Opacare Prose had thrust upon him was mind boggling; yet, Swol could safely guess that Prose never would intentionally do such a thing to a friend. Whether or not Prose’s disappearance was due to the strain of his old job in the Family taking ahold was unknown. It was as Boss said: “Only Prose knows.” Swol, after a moment, nodded to himself, before turning to leave the office area. He still had some questions regarding the search, but decided against asking them until later. Right now, Boss needed his space to think and conclude; and, as Swol had learned, that time was absolutely vital. “If there’s one thing to come out of this whole fiasco with Prose,” he quipped, “it’s that Boss is getting more exercise.” With a careful shut he closed the door, returning to the main area.         It may not have been ideal peacoat weather, but that didn’t stop Boss from enjoying the familiar feeling of having the item and the fedora on. While winter was but a few months away, fall was quickly arriving, and already he saw that many ponies were starting to break out the warmer clothes. A somewhat cold breeze blowing by further solidified this need. He walked in mostly silence, though he did greet a few ponies on the way. Most were surprised to see him out of the office, but were courteous to give little more than a greeting back. It wasn’t everyday that they saw the stallion who had helped their fair city out and about. They knew he was not especially a fan of small talk, and as he looked like he had someplace to be, they were quick to keep conversations short. But where was he going? Even he did not know; he had walked out without the destination in mind. He wondered for a moment if that was a bad thing; then he looked up. Manehattan’s skyline never ceased to amaze him on those rare times he would look to the heavens. Stainless steel structures rose to incomprehensible heights, with cerulean windows gleaming in the sunlight. In the windows he could see the faces of various office ponies wearing their white-collared shirts, tapping away at keyboards and presenting charts to their bosses. The recent implementation of electricity—still an infantile product—was also evident by the various screens showcasing various ads and slogans that surrounded various buildings. He adjusted his gaze, seeing the Equestrian State Building standing true and tall ahead, her regal point piercing the sky. The bricks had been recently cleaned, as a nearby newsstand stated; and a few puffy clouds floated around it. Several pegasi were flying around it, making sure that nothing was out of place. Below them, he saw several colts and fillies staring up in awe, completely taken aback by how tall the building was. Truly, it was a testament to the unrelenting determination of the pony; no matter what obstacles were ahead, they could rise above it all. As he moved down the sidewalk, the city’s true nature appeared before him. Taxi coaches raced down the streets, while stallions and mare briskly walked down the avenues. On boulevards he saw several business ponies conversing; they gave him a brief greeting, before returning back to their conversation. Several ponies at various stands shouted out their product, garnering attention and a few hungry mouths. The scent of freshly prepared hot dogs and delectable pretzels wafted through the air, and he himself nearly stopped for a quick bite. He opted against it, though, knowing how addicting those foods could be and preferring his usual body size. Sights and smells and tastes and touches and sounds… these were the true senses of the city. They enabled the user to navigate through the maze-like streets and paths. But if one were to stop for a moment, and take it all in, then they too would see the city for what it was. Manehattan, at least to Boss, held opportunity for everypony who dared cross its borders. To him, it was the prime example of a group of ponies getting together and doing it right—amassing a gigantic city and allotting chances to those within. If you wanted to get somewhere in life, you had to work hard for it: that was the city’s philosophy. No pony ever got anywhere without some hard work. He crossed at an intersection, heading for Central Park. Gradually the city’s sounds became distant, though were still loud enough to be heard. As today was a work day, most ponies were away in the aforementioned skyscrapers. A few families were in the park, however, most of them with their kids. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched them play; this was perhaps the single, most important element of the city. Families’ happiness. As he took a seat at one of the benches, he reflected on that element. Why was it that he cared so deeply for these families? They were technically below him; middle-class workers, while he was an upper-class figure. And yet, he felt a certain desire to help them whenever he could. Perhaps it was the fact that it was the families that ultimately made Manehattan a great city, and he was simply doing his civic duty to keep his city running. Or perhaps it was because he appreciated the values of a family more than anypony else. He supposed that was due, in large part, to him not really having a family… He shook his head. That was nonsense. He had a family; in the form of the Family. The one family he would ever need. He smiled as he thought that. Yes, the Family was very much similar to the real deal. The siblings—or workers—helped keep order, and the boss—the parental figure—guided and instructed the family and all its operations. And sure, there were arguments and fights every once in awhile; but they were nothing that a firm reprimanding couldn’t take care of. And much like a family, Boss was happy to be in it, even if he didn’t show it. So then why couldn’t Prose be happy? The thought was so sudden, that it made him reel back in shock. What kind of foolish question was that? Everypony, despite their position, had grown to at least appreciate the Family! It was simply the way things were! And yet… and yet… Was Prose ever happy? He closed his eyes, trying to remember if Prose ever laughed, or smiled, or seemingly enjoyed himself. But he found no such things lying within his subconscious. At first he reasoned that he had merely forgotten, in all this time; yet in his heart, he knew the truth. Prose hadn’t been happy at all. But he stayed for ten years! Why didn’t he leave sooner? What made him leave in the first place? The only answer Boss could amass was in the form of the vanished stallion, frowning at him from afar. Only Prose knows. His frustration and anger boiled, but he managed to keep himself calm. Whether or not Prose had been happy didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered now, was getting Prose back to where he belonged. He stood, dusting off his coat, before making his way down the path that headed out of the park. “Oof!” Something hit his side with a soft thud. He glanced down, and saw a light, teal-colored earth pony with a golden mane sitting on the ground, rubbing her head. “Ow…” she murmured, tears in her eyes. An azure stallion and a daffodil mare—the child’s parents, he assumed—ran up, intending to comfort her. While they kneeled by their child, the filly glanced up at who she had bumped into. She let out a gasp, and pointed a hoof at him. The parents, confused by their child’s reaction, turned their gazes—and let out equally similar gasps. “Oh, dear!” the mare cried. “Sir! I’m very sorry about this!” Boss managed a small smile, trying to ease their worry. “It’s alright, miss. No harm done.” He bent down, looking the filly in the eye. “In the future, though, it would be best if you looked before you ran, understand?” The filly nodded, still looking at him with awe. He gave her a small smile, before standing and turning around. “Bye, Mr. Mayor Finch!” she cried after him. He smiled to himself. Mayor Finch. Funny how a Boss could also be the Mayor of Manehattan. He gave the child a small wave, before finally exiting the park. While Prose still haunted his mind, he was feeling significantly better now; perhaps because the child reminded him what was equally important. Keeping this city safe. That was something both of us could attest to wanting to do. And with that thought, Grifford Finch—Boss—returned to his Family, feeling that perhaps Prose wouldn’t be such a problem after all. After all, if I can become Mayor, then perhaps he can rejoin us.