The Substitute Librarian
The Stair of the Mountain
There was a certain fear that came with darkness, particularly the kind of darkness where you could not see a hoof in front of your face. Amplify that by leaning over a banister with an immense drop just one twitch away, and the distinct click of a locking mechanism on the door right behind, and then add in the sensation of wind coming up from below as one might feel when falling to death…
Emerald might have widdled. Maybe a few drops. Just to mark his position in the darkness.
It suddenly became very important not to move with any speed. Emerald settled for not moving at all, listening to the fading noises of the falling lantern a long, long distance below. He had no interest in following it, at any speed.
One very slow motion at a time, Emerald reversed his steps until his rump was up against the library sliding door. It took quite some time in the dark for him to grope around for a knob or lever, or just about anything on this side of the locked portal before giving up the search as useless. It made sense, after all. Evacuations would take place from Canterlot to a safe refuge, or at least somewhere away from whatever had caused the evacuation. Allowing ponies to come back by climbing the stairs would allow them into areas where they really did not belong, unless they were lost graduate students who accidentally got locked into the stairwell in which case somepony should have thought of this!
Nothing like this had ever happened before he went to Ponyville on that stupid library-sitting job. Maybe this was the universe’s way of kicking him because he took his name off the volunteer list.
“Hello?” called out Emerald on the odd chance that the universe might be feeling generous and might cut him a break for once. “Is anypony out there? Anybody useful, that is. Anypony except a mare looking for a husband, that is,” he added out of reasonable caution, because the universe might be feeling exceptionally perverse instead.
After a long period spent counting heartbeats and the perverse feeling that there was some sort of dance band playing in an upper level that he could barely hear out of the corner of one ear, he added, “Okay, even if you’re looking for a husband, we can talk.”
There was still no answer other than echoes, so he provided his own response while picking ever so slowly up the stairs in search of another more openable door. “So, how did you and mom meet?” he muttered. “Oh, she found me wandering around in the pitch darkness like an idiot, and I decided marriage was slightly better than starving to death. And they said being a little overweight was a bad thing. HA! I have supplies to survive down here for days. Maybe even a week.”
By the time he reached three landings up, Emerald had quit complaining out loud, but he was making a list of ponies who needed a good kicking. Engineers who developed an entire series of evacuation stairs inside the mountain without including unhorned light sources for example. Fire door manufacturers who did not include a way to set off the alarms from outside the thick locked door, with a convenient glowing button to be pressed by trapped ponies. At least there were tall banister rails between him and the air shaft, but that only stood to reason, because when the staircase was full of evacuating ponies, one accidental bump had the potential of killing dozens and terrifying all the rest.
The only problem in his upward exploration—other than pitch darkness—was that this giant staircase was not the only staircase. There were other branches that forked up in their own directions, leaving Emerald zig-zagging back and forth on his vain search for a loose door that could be perhaps jimmied open or banged on until somepony noticed… It was not going well.
After a certain number of identical unresponsive doors thick enough to guard bank safes, Emerald determined it was really not going well.
“Up has failed me,” he muttered. “Time to give down a chance.”
If nothing else, down was easier, and ever so slightly familiar. In short order, he worked his way back down to his point of origin, which was identifiable by the faint scent of urine. In addition, the longer Emerald was in the lightless void, the more he could see a faint glimmer just ever so barely beneath his eye’s focus. It was a mystery until he put his eye to the wall and squinted, allowing the tiny glints to become more obvious as bits and pieces of mica or quartz.
Since he needed to visit the little stallion’s room, and there were none in the immediate vicinity, he arranged himself as discreetly as possible and took care of business while thinking about his situation. Quartz was ever so slightly pizothaumic, and his silver shoes would bleed off any harmful magical charge, so after doing his business, Emerald moved down several steps and found a good prospective piece of wall as an experimental subject.
Brisk taps against the granite walls did indeed give off ghostly sparks, but did nothing in the way of usable illumination. At least they were proof he had not been struck blind, and could provide a useful experiment to relate for his other young students once he had made his escape.
Walking down was easier, too. Not effortless, but far more effective than sliding down the banister and falling off and landing a thousand feet below in a shattered puddle of bone fragments and blood. One step at a time was fine, although slower once he considered the possibility of a broken section of staircase that could deposit him in that same puddle et al…
After all, gravity did not play fair. Several months ago, Emerald had climbed the mountain with Picker’s wagon bouncing along behind him, and it had been a tolerable chore. Seeing where he was going made the journey enjoyable and provided a distraction from measuring every step. Moving one hoof at a time in the darkness with the dread of not finding the next step made every muscle taut, and guaranteed a stumble at every landing. Counting steps between landings would have been a rational approach to avoid a number of painful falls, but he was concentrating more on the idea of a much longer fall and sudden stop, as above, et al...
Other than the lack of doors anymore, there was really no way to know how far down Emerald had traveled before he took a break and sat down on the cold stone. His senses were starting to play tricks on him, with the odd wisps of faint music that his hoofsteps were blocking out and the ever so faint glitter of sparkles in the corners of his eyes, but there were tendons in his legs that fairly demanded a break from his tip-toe-first-check-for-a-step-just-in-case descent.
“Who would have thought it was harder to go down the mountain than up,” he muttered quietly to himself while trying to rub the painful ligaments. “A firepole, that would really be the way to go. Or not,” he reconsidered at the practicality of the thought, and the eternally long slide. “Escalators, maybe.”
Getting back up was painful, but not as painful as simply remaining where he was and eventually starving to death, so Emerald sucked it up and continued. And continued. And continued.
Eventually, every time Emerald put down a hoof, he could actually see the light put out by piezothaumic reactions in the granite, and his eyes had adapted so much to the darkness that the wan light actually made shadows flicker on the walls. Due to the ebon darkness enfolding him, the lack of any other stimuli while walking gave each faint glimmer its own special motion, a friendly indication that he was actually moving instead of some sort of infernal exercise device, designed to cripple him.
So when Emerald stopped on one of the landings for one of his frequent rest breaks, his heart nearly pounded out of his chest when the ever-so-faint flicker of illumination he could just barely see…
Moved.
Nothing is worse than being all alone except finding out you are not.
At least it isnt a SUPRISE party.
10859447
I think he'd take a surprise party over being not-alone in the darkness right now.
10859420
I’m kind of sad he won’t meet Twilight. Thought that was what this story was leading to
Emerald sighed for effect then paused for more effect, continuing to wring every possible drop of effect out of the moment.
"My Dear, Devoutly Learned Uncle Picker. He who has had more works of Griffonian and likely Pony History pass through his talons than any mortal being now alive."
While griffon beaks are notoriously inexpressive, the narrowed eyes let Emerald know his buttering-up was landing butter-side-down in the dirt.
"Are you trying to convince me that you do not know by heart, have in your collection, can acquire, or even know where a copy exists of Triple Feather's autobiography: One Talon Can Move The World?"
"Never heard of it."
Emerald carved his scowl even deeper. "On behalf of countless generations of griffons, I am ashamed for you. 'Those who ignore their past are doomed to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors.'"
The corners of the bird's mouth twitched. "Much better to pulp the old to make paper to record the failures of the new. Besides, tragedies always sell well. I couldn't care one whit that it's just Griffonian stupidity and obstinance stuck in an endless cycle."
Emerald looked at the ground and shook his head. "But the lost knowledge... to lose such a priceless treasure is—"
"The third son of a minor noble from the ruling family overthrown a decade before Celestia took the throne? Griffons are an unsentimental lot, boy, you know that. My great-great-grand-pulpy many times over doubtless erased all but the briefest mentions of that royal clutch."
"But Triple Feather advanced the theory of Fanatical Pacifism two centuries before Count Fuscia! I must know how he came up with such an Equus-shattering idea!"
"Which no pony, griffon, zebra, or minotaur alive today considers as more than a historical curiosity."
Picker shrugged his wings then settled them again to his sides. "The only being that may still have a copy would be that Sun Princess of yours. Every five years, I come to her Day Court to plead my case: access to her fertile pulping-grounds under the Canterlot Archives..."
"For the sake of my continued adoration of our divine ruler, I do hope you are referring to Deep Storage."
"...where I would gather only the least-usable tons of moldy, moth-eaten garbage. From this, a sizeable percentage of the recovered paper would go to create books for the next generation of Canterlotian foals."
"A most altruistic endeavor... for a griffon." Playful insult served, Emerald tilted his head. "Although you did not specify the size of this percentage."
"After all, only the most unlucky-at-love and anti-social ponies ever visit that dreary place. Oh, did you plan to go there?"
Return of service for a clean point. The green pony smirked as he readied another metaphorical ball. "Were you referring to the newest Alicorn of Knowledge? You don't have much respect for alicorns, do you?"
The griffon continued to smile.
Emerald tried to puzzle out what he was missing, eventually giving up."I suppose I'll need to go there, sooner or later."
"Make it sooner."
The green pony raised an eyebrow until Rag Picker continued. "I have an appointment with Her Royal Highness Luna next week."
"You mean a spot on her nearly-deserted Night Court docket."
The griffon sighed and looked up to the castle. "Funny thing about your Night Alicorn. Between you and me, that mare is more like a griffon than a pony. Unsentimental to a fault."
Game point for Rag Picker.
Emerald saw the corners of Rag Picker's eyes crinkle to an excessive degree. The last time the griffon smiled like this was from Emerald's youth. On a late-night hunch, the griffon took Emerald to the central warehouse of the Bands and Nobles booksellers. Excess inventory was shuttled directly into the griffon's wagon. Six toppling loads made it to the griffon's pulping mill at breakneck speed before Celestia lifted the sun. By then, the other pulpers in town found the bookseller’s gates closed and semi-annual excess inventory purge canceled. Only a few copies of Minotaur Recipies On A Budget scattered across the streets of the city provided a clue to the fate of the unwanted volumes. Emerald idly wondered what the statute of limitations might be for crimes against books. He had more sense than to ask the Immortal Librarian of Ponyville.
In any case, Uncle Picker had been so happy, he bought Emerald a new hat and served up his family's signature dish. Only later did Emerald learn the quiche contained pig's bacon. As unwelcome as that knowledge had been at the time, Emerald had to admit it prepared him admirably for freshman hazing at his fraternity. In the history of the institution, no other pony had ever asked for a second slice.
Emerald’s canter down the cobblestones of Memory Lane came to a sudden halt as realization dawned. “That was no hunch. You bribed the ponies at the warehouse that night.”
Emerald had to admit he was wrong. The crinkles got even deeper.
The green pony adjusted his hat and trotted away, calling over his shoulder. “Match point to the griffon. Sooner it is.”
10859472
I think he and Moondancer would get along nicely, even if neither of them are looking for a spouse... at first.
Any chance she visits the archives much and the staff started calling her the ghost?
Oh, he was outside the elevator, not inside. I was having some trouble visualizing that last scene.
@georg , could I throw out a couple story ideas from my canon?
1• Emerald marries a bat pony, possibly by mistake, but they decide to stay together because they like each other well enough, and both families are against it. Bats are the most insular tribe out there, so marrying a non-bat is a no-no, and Emerald's parents.... they're horrified that he married one of those kind of ponies.
2• In my head canon, to help Twilight learn about law making, Luna guides her in making a law giving the Canterlot Archives funding to open branch libraries in needy towns, starting with Ponyville. While Moondancer will become the librarian, first someone has to put together a collection for Ponyville, someone who understands the kind of collection its citizens need, somebody like Emerald. It's not like trying to put together the new Ponyville Branch of the Canterlot Archives in Twilight's castle could go bad in any way, right?
10859648 There must be a phrase for this kind of misunderstanding. When I wrote Monster in the Twilight, she thought she had killed her parents, although they showed up later in the chapter. I still have readers who think they're dead, although I brought them back for scenes several times. In this case, Emerald thought EE stood for Emergency Elevator. It really stands for Emergency Evacuation, and it's a staircase, which is mentioned twenty times in the whole story.
There is no spoon. There is no elevator.
10859598 I can't remember if Moondancer has even been mentioned in Estee's stories yet. In 'Tutor' she's one of his study partners and nothing else, like two lumps in a log in the library.
10859528 I remember a wonderful time in grade school where the library was throwing out some old tattered books, and I made sure to read all of them before letting them make it to the trash can.
10859460 10859447 Fairly sure a surprise party would drop him dead right here. He does have a family history of heart trouble, and needs to have a regular exercise program to keep that in check.
They did. They put up a nice big sign forbidding you from doing the exact thing you went ahead and did.
Genius.
Well! It seems Emerald has some company down here in the deeps, most excellent.
10859914 Taking #2 first here, there's a fair opportunity for a story with that kind of framework. Named Character gets put in charge of 'stocking' Twilight's new castle library out of the Canterlot archives. Conflicts with the Archive librarians, an endless series of trips up and down the mountain with his/her cart, having to face Twilight's constant waffling on what kinds of books she want, conflicts with her Bearer duties, etc... until their relationship expands into something a little more than a mere job.
#1 is more of *how* to build a story. For example, Emerald is a poor choice for the POV character since he has so much baggage for the reader to soak up. You're better off starting from scratch with two characters, probably a M/F relationship, although I'm not sure which of the two you want to make a batpony. It really depends on how you want to angle this, but I'm supposing the female would be easiest and most effective.
Generally, if you're building a story in an open-ended world, you can build the characters to match the way you want the story to go. That's how I built Green Grass in the first place, and all the characters in Buggy and the Beast, for example.
10859953
Moondancer hasn't been mentioned in Estee's stories that I can find. But she implicitly exists because of the mention in episode 1.
10859986
#1, yes and no, you have established for example that his parents want to marry him off to someone deserving. Imagine a bat pony in the same situation, one morning the two of them wake up hung over and married. Not exactly an original idea, but definitely something that could happen. It is a bit of a stretch though, hence it being first. That and the fact that it's not tied to any timeline, so it can be done any time it works for the story.
#2, this one I think is the strongest, everything makes sense, fits canon and fits what's established. There's no way Twilight can keep from getting involved, either while he's there, or he keeps coming back to notes about what he's doing wrong. And passing such a law is a believable easy exercise for Twilight, after all the crown owes Ponyville a new library, so it's not like the legislators can really justify voting against this. It's quite possible that due to her duties as a bearer and princess that they never meet in person, the notes back and forth being it. As to conflicts with the existing archive employees, that's quite possible, it's also possible that they may try to foist some books on him, so they can justify getting new copies for the Archive.
10859953
I’m picturing Twilight Sparkle’s beaming smile morphing into a vicious snarl by the end of your tale. Maybe not the best idea to admit this most heinous of unforgivable crimes.
10859953
I knew there was a stairway - that was clear enough - but I didn't get that there was also no elevator.
You hiatus'd on a cliffhanger? That's evil.
Well. That definitely could have gone better. Now the question is whether and how it'll get any worse. (Not if. It can always get worse. If you think it can't, it absolutely will.)
I would have thought up would have been the way to keep going, after all there is a limit to how much up there can possibly be where as down, well I suppose there is a point where down starts becoming up again assuming the Pony planet is a sphere, but that should be a long, long way off.
10865064 Up *forks* in different directions in the pitch darkness to match up with other Emergency Evacuation doors, which are all quite thick and shut. Down is the only direction guaranteed (or at least hopefully) with an exitable-exit.
10860464 Well, I've doodled on more. There's this piano....