The What and Whatiful Who

by cosby7

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: Quest for the Minotaur's Shower

It seemed like it must have been hours upon hours that Trixie and the Doctor passed silently through that corridor of the dead. Trixie thought it was a safe assumption that, what with her line of work, she had traveled more than most ponies out there. Clearly, she had not been to so many places as her well-traveled companion, but, generally speaking, she had a decent idea of what the wide wide world of Equestria had to offer. When traveling is all one does, a pony ends up seeing a lot of places and meeting, performing for, taunting, and/or getting thrown out of town by a lot of ponies. Long story short: Equestria had no short supply of horses. Trixie had personally met a lot of them. Maybe too many to count. So why was it that in that hallway she could remember a thousand distinct faces and imagine them behind every door?

Once or twice, though as rarely as she could help it, Trixie had even passed through a graveyard. There were not a great many of these in Equestria. Typically, ponies ate well, got plenty of exercise, breathed clean air, and lived to a ripe old age. Even so, by necessity, graveyards could be found in Equestria, complete with guards patrolling for any unicorns looking to raise a zombie pony. Shame too. It would have gone so well in her act. And it could have carried her bags. The point was that Trixie was not entirely unfamiliar with the presence of death. She was not entirely fond of it, nor particularly accustomed to it, but there were certainly worse things than a dead body. A bad review, for instance. This was something different though.

The final exhibit in History Kingdom was not a graveyard. It was not a tomb or a mausoleum. When a pony stands in the presence of the dead, it is disconcerting to be sure. To see a pony who once walked and talked and spoke and breathed just as any other, and to see that pony completely devoid of not only those things, but everything, all the things like love and laughter and anger and that soft smile some ponies could do with only the slightest crinkle of the eyes that made them alive instead of just functioning, to see all that gone, it was scary. Death is the greatest unknown and what a pony doesn't know, doesn't understand, is always scary. But, walking through this pristine hallway, Trixie was not afraid. She did not even truly sense death, as it were. Death has an odor. Death has a taste. This place was sterile. The ponies here were not dead. No matter what the Doctor said, the truth was that these ponies were alive. Each and every one of them was alive and trapped and there was not a single thing they could do to save any of them. She understood perfectly. History Kingdom was not scary. It was painful. Trixie supposed the Doctor was right: The past often was.

“Ah, feel that recycled air and synthetic solar luminescence,” Doctor Hooves whooped as he burst through the exit of History Kingdom. His jocularity was a bit puzzling to Trixie, but she supposed she was pretty happy to be out of that hallway, as well, despite what that might mean for the road ahead. There wasn't anything they could do for the prisoners locked up in this place. Not now. Maybe though, maybe they could make it so none of this had ever happened. I have to believe that, Trixie thought to herself. I have to believe in him.

“Now then,” Hooves said with a twirl, “where have we gotten ourselves this time?” Optimistically, Trixie wondered if maybe the designers of Ponyville Pen had been confident enough that the first part of the prison would be so bad they wouldn't have to finish the rest. Unfortunately, it did not take her long to see that this was not the case.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Indeed, the exit they had chosen had put them outside once more, or rather, as outside as this place managed to get with its lie of a sky, and it even stayed outside. However, their view of anything beyond where they stood was immediately blocked off by massive walls. They rose up and up, reaching just as high as any building they had seen, dominating the landscape with a looming shadow. Certainly higher than any pony would be able to climb, Trixie remarked to herself knowingly. She frowned for a moment as she looked up at that wall, allowing herself to remember the prison sentence around her neck. Wonder what they would have put on me if I was a pegasus.

At the same time they were tall, the walls also managed to be simultaneously stouter than the thickest tree trunk. These walls were so massive that they managed to obscure even quite what they were walls to, but the opening passage that lay between them gave enough of a hint for a savvy pony to figure out. Of course, if that was not enough of a hint, then the massive sign that welcomed them certainly gave it away.

“'Loony Labyrinth!' Are you freakin' serious?” Most amusement parks had abandoned the idea of using mazes as an attraction. Simply put, they were never really as fun as they were on paper. More often than not, they were just kind of creepy and tedious. All of these were reasons why a labyrinth would be perfect for Ponyville Pen. Trixie felt like a bit of an idiot for not having seen it coming, honestly. “This is all Trixie needs right now.” She sighed heavily. “Minotaurs are such smelly jerks.”

“Hm. Actually have seen a minotaur. Didn't smell that bad. That was in a hotel, though, so it might have had a shower. Well, virtual hotel. Actually, that ended up being a prison too. Minotaurs and prisons: What's up with that?” Trixie was just sort of squinting at him. Again. “Still, might have had a shower.”

“Yes, well,” she moaned morosely, “Trixie could use a shower. Are your little adventures always so . . .” she sniffed at herself with the slightest recoil, “sweaty?”

“Not really sure,” he replied distantly, now focused on his own inventory of the labyrinth before them, “never done it as a horse before.” Trixie was still not totally sure how to take this. All these little casual asides to not being a pony had been easy to ignore, so far. Still, Trixie did not like feeling as though she was being messed with. Being an alien was one thing, but a not pony alien that was now a pony and also still an alien was on the confusing end of things. Even so, best not to worry about it too much just then. “Do ponies not, you now, pant or something? To keep cool?”

Well, something about that had been wrong alright. Trixie was clearly affronted.

“No?”

“That is dogs. Dogs pant. Are you truly comparing the Great and Powerful Trixie to a mangy dog?”

“Not a mangy one.” That was apparently the wrong answer. “Is that even an insult? Aren't some of the dogs in Equestria sentient? How does that work anyway?”

“How would I know!” she bellowed in retaliation of his tangent. Sure, it was great and all that he was letting himself be cheery Doctor Hooves again, brooding Doctor Hooves was genuinely depressing, but now she was back to the problem of how to shut him up. In a labyrinth. One of those things where all a pony did was walk and walk with nothing else to do but chat. Until she ran into a minotaur. She actually found herself hoping that if they did run into one that it did stink. The only thing worse than smelling a minotaur would be getting jealous of one's shower.

This time it was Trixie that led the way. Without another word, she began storming off into the twist ways of the Loony Labyrinth, half to get it over with and half to get away from the Doctor's nonsensical prattle. When the Doctor finally noticed her non-presence, he was so bewildered that he nearly forgot to follow after her.

“You know, there might not even be a minotaur,” he said upon catching up.

“Oh?” Trixie asked with one eye raised. It was that moment that they crossed over the threshold into the labyrinth. “How do you figure?”

“Well,” the Doctor began with a hard to miss hint of glee as he began explaining something, “it's the 'Loony Labyrinth.' I was just thinking that the 'Loony' might be just as important as the 'Labyrinth' to the description. It wouldn't be that unusual to include a sanitarium in a prison this large.”

“Let Trixie get this straight,” she began, “you are telling Trixie not to worry, because there may not be a minotaur, but there will be a bunch of criminally insane ponies?”

“I suppose that sounds like something I might say.”

“You really are terrible at this,” she returned with a grimace and a disappointed shake of her head.

“Yeah, the evidence is definitely piling up that way.”