"Reality leaves a lot to the imagination."
As far as Lyra was concerned, she was most certainly not crazy.
No, it was silly to think she was.
After all, she was confident that there was more to the stories than what she was reading there on the page. There were too many signs to ignore, and a staggering number of parallels to consider.
Her muzzle was buried in a book – a foal's novel about the mysterious (and most definitely fictional) beings known as humans – which she frequently read aloud from as she pieced together her findings.
“…And the next passage says, 'the wheel was invented in ancient times, making it easier for early humans to carry loads over greater distances'. And everyone knows that a wheel is a circle, and to measure the area of a circle, you use the pi symbol! Three point one four plus a million other numbers, that is…”
Her friend, Bon Bon, keep her face hidden by her own book. It did little to ease her concerns about being seen with the quirky mare in public, though it still managed to effectively hide her shame-filled expression.
“I don't know this mare, I swear,” she muttered to a passing Shoeshine, who spared the quirky unicorn an inscrutable look before hurrying along on her way.
“…So from that you get a forty, and when divided by eight, that becomes five—five fingers! Humans confirmed!”
The normally-patient earth pony sighed. “That's all very interesting Lyra,” she said calmly, her eyes narrowing, “but I don't really care. At all…”
Lyra only laughed. “Don't be such a stick in the mud, Bon,” she chided, slamming the book shut and setting it down on their table with a smile. “I know you think I'm full of hot air, I don't have proof, etcetera, but trust me! There's more to these stories than meets the eye.”
“Forgive me if my confidence is not inspired,” her friend groused.
“Heh, you've been really getting into that book lately,” said Lyra, quirking her brow with a knowing smile. “Never took you as such a romantic.”
Bon Bon gave a nondescript mumble, continuing to half-hide herself and half-read the book she was using to accomplish the former. It was a cheesy romance novel, yes, but she didn't care much for details right then. “I read it for the plot,” she said, sighing. “And don't bother making a stupid joke about that, it's not one of those kinds of books.”
“Riiiiight,” said Lyra, giggling to herself. “Anything you say, friend of mine.”
“Lyra…”
“Whatever you say, Bon Bon! Honestly!”
“Ugh.” The cream-coated mare poked her head around the edges of the book, frowning. “Don't make it any harder for me to be seen in public with you than it already is. Sometimes I feel like you put fantasies before your own friends, here in reality...”
Lyra laughed again, leaning over to pat her friend on the back. “Don't worry about it,” she said, grinning. “Of course I care about my friends! I love you guys. And besides, it's not like anyone really minds what I do. Here, watch.” She turned toward the flower-stand mare, whom had seen fit to water her plants, and waved to her. “Hey, Rose! Guess what! I finally cracked the human code!”
“That's nice, Lyra,” she replied in a dry tone, not turning to even look at her.
Giggling, the unicorn looked back at her friend. “See? Nopony cares.”
Bon Bon sighed. “Lyra, you know you—” She stopped herself, then shook her head. “—never mind. I could hardly care, myself.”
“My point exactly!” With a triumphant smile, Lyra flipped open her book again, holding it in front of her with magic. “Says here that humans invented wagons and cars with wheels, too. And we use wheels, don't we? Gotta admit, that's preeeetty suspicious.”
“Or, you know, we made them ourselves,” the earth mare pointed out
Lyra shook her head, flashing her a coy smile. “So naive, Bon Bon,” she said, giggling. “But, anyway, I'm off to see Twilight. Had some things I wanted to talk to her about, and maybe return this book too. Then borrow it again.”
Bon Bon tilted her head. “Um, Lyra? You do remember that the library is gone now, right?”
The unicorn blinked. She turned her head toward where she thought the library was, but was mildly surprised to see the leftover burnt husk of the tree it resided in. A few scaffolds were set up, likely indicating it was due to be fixed in the future, but when such a thing was scheduled was unknown to her.
“Oh… yeah. Almost forgot about that,” she said, wincing a bit. A sudden notion dawned on the mare, and her smile grew wide. “Soooooo… that means we can technically keep the books! Awesome!”
Her earth pony friend shook her head, then glanced back at her own book. She hummed thoughtfully, looking through the pages again. Bon Bon thought about protesting toward keeping books that they didn't own, and yet she had to admit her friend had a point. After all, it would be handy to keep a book on standby for such outings as this…
“Right, um,” she glanced at the unicorn again, then back at her book, suddenly more interested in cheap romantic conflict than her friend's aspirations at the moment. “You go ahead and do that, Lyra. I'll just, uh… stay here.”
“Yep! Enjoy the book, Bon,” she replied, winking at her with a coy little grin, and trotting off. “By the way, Cloud Dancer and Glitterleaf end up together in the end!”
The unicorn giggled to herself, hearing her friend's annoyed shouts behind her. Lyra knew that her friends were always quick to ignore or pass off her fascination as foalish, yet fairly-harmless nonsense. But, she wasn't bothered. She still had places to be, and things to do.
Namely, one involving a certain princess of friendship…
~O~
Twilight's palace looked rather nice. Which was a light way of describing it, really. It was actually quite gorgeous. Lyra was always so fond of those grand crystal buildings that she had seen while vacationing with her friends in the Crystal Empire. It always fascinated her on how they were made, or how they even came about, or even if it was at all possible to sleep well in them.
But business came before pleasure, and her business was one she couldn't let slide.
“Hi, Twilight!”
She was in the main chamber, barely a canter through the door. Twilight Sparkle herself was walking by, a book in her grip and gaze, which she seemed oddly focused on until Lyra called out to her. “…Let's see, carry the value of two, and that brings five, so obv—oh! Lyra!”
Grinning, the unicorn hopped over to her, book held aloft in her golden glow of magic. “I brought back your book!” she exclaimed, waving it about. “Also, I wanted to ask you abou—”
“Humans, again?”
Lyra grinned wider and nodded.
“Of course.” The alicorn chuckled, wearing a wry smile. “It's always either about the book, or the humans. Or studies in musical instruments. There was that one time with the corn syrup, though…”
Giggling, Lyra's thoughts drifted back to mental images of Minuette, Berry Punch, and Bon Bon all sticky and covered in feathers. “Heh, yeah. That was the best Jester's Day ever.”
“For better or worse, it changed a lot of lives.” Twilight giggled again. “Pinkie was the winner of that one though, for sure.”
“Oh, boy… That still gives me chills when I think about it.”
“There was frosting everywhere by the end of it,” the young princess said. “It was like organizing a second Winter Wrap-Up just to clean the town afterwards.” She coughed, and smiled. “But, anyway… about what you wanted to ask. Your theories might not be completely unfounded.”
The mare tilted her head. Something about Twilight's tone and demeanor seemed knowing, to Lyra. Her curiosity was definitely piqued.
“Heh… Lyra, you might be interested to know tha—” Twilight caught herself, hanging on that word for several moments, and suddenly switched gears. “—aaaat I'm afraid I don't know anything about humans, heh, nope, sorry.”
Lyra's face fell, her ears drooping in disappointment. “Oh…”
“But, you can keep the book!” she hurriedly tacked on, grinning a rather nervous grin. “Yes, keep the book! I've no place to put it, here.” She turned away, muttering, “And it's kinda outdated, anyway…”
“Oh. Really?” the unicorn said, smiling and stuffing the book into her saddlebag. “Thanks! I was planning on checking it back out anyway, but, this would add one less step to the daily routine!”
Twilight let out a nervous giggle, still grinning a little too eagerly. “Aha, well, great that it works out for you, then! Sorry I couldn't be of any more help, but, uh—” She blinked, then gasped and started to stammer. “—oh, darn, work! So much work I have to do! You know, uh, being a princess and all!”
Without giving the minty mare a chance to speak further, Twilight hurriedly escorted her toward the palace door, urging her outside as she continue to make excuses. “Very, very busy! I'll have to talk later, Lyra—sooooo much work to do! Science, economics, friendship, harmony, all that good stuff and more so, uh… bye!”
As soon as Lyra was out the door, Twilight slammed it shut behind her, leaving the confused mint-green unicorn outside again. “Wow,” she said, turning to trot back toward town with a smile. “Must be hard work, being a princess. Good for her!”
Back inside the palace, the alicorn heaved a sigh. “Whew… That was a close one,” she said, stepping away from the door with obvious relief. Another pony soon came trotting down the opposite hall, looking over at Twilight. Apart from the glasses, the lab coat, and the lack of wings, she looked exactly like Twilight.
“Who was that pony?” she said, briefly pausing to adjust her glasses for what felt like the tenth or twelfth time. “She bore a heavy resemblance to—”
Twilight sighed, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah, that was Lyra,” she said, a demure smile on her muzzle. “Same old Lyra…”
“Ah. That makes… a surprising amount of sense. Oddly enough,” said the other Twilight.
“What makes you say that?”
“There is a Lyra in our world, as well,” the other Twilight explained. “She, uh… well, based on my observations, she seems to have an unusual fascination with ponies. Which is normally something that children are more interested in.”
“So, not different in the slightest, then?”
“Not from what I can see…”
~O~
As Lyra walked down the road from the palace, she felt conflicted.
On the one hoof, she was glad to finally own the book for herself. On the other, her questions and hope for more knowledge turned up empty. Twilight seemed quite sympathetic (or at least, tolerant) of her fascination, likely in part to them being alike in scientific minds, but it was still disheartening to have her hopes dropped like stone on glass.
Was there a way of knowing for sure? Could she ever find a way of proving that humans were more than just words and prose within pages? Or even, in a best case scenario... would she ever be able to make contact? These questions constantly eluded her. Parts of her mind contemplated the possibility that they may never be answered. But she would never, ever give up... would she?
At least, Lyra noted with a slight glint of hope, I haven't fully debunked my "aliens" theory yet. After all, it totally explains how they left no trace of themselves in Equestria!
Between her fascination, her music, and her friends... was it really worth it to pursue it, though? Perhaps Bon Bon was right? Perhaps she was ignoring the reality right in front of her, and neglecting her own life? Neglecting her friends? She stopped to consider this, frowning. Maybe I really do take this a little far, she thought, and sighed. I should probably go and talk to Bon Bon... Take a day off, maybe. Wouldn't hurt.
But as she grappled with these questions, nearly about to consider heading home and forgoing her passion for the sake of her friend, Lyra heard something. It was extremely faint, but, she could definitely make it out to be a distinct sound. A voice? It sounded, to her, very much like a voice. She glanced around the road, staring accusingly at a nearby tree. Unfortunately, the tree did not offer her an explanation for this phenomenon. Nor did the rock, or the bird, or even the gravel she stood on.
It was definitely a voice, though. And for whatever reason, it beckoned to her. She wasn't sure where exactly it was coming from—it seemed to resonate from everywhere and nowhere. Some part of her conscious attempted to grasp what she was hearing, and what she was seeing. Though the possible ventures of the unknown carried potential dangers, she found herself trotting toward it. As she did, the voice got louder. It sounded as if it were dictating her motions—not outright ordering it, but trailing after every action she took, like some ethereal transcription.
Lyra raised a hoof toward it, curious to touch it. Her hoof went through without any impedance. She leaned toward it, just barely able to see something—someone—staring back at her. But as soon as she finally stepped over the threshold, she fell. Or more precisely, she flew. But at the same time, it was neither. Upon gaining her bearings, the mare then looked up. Somehow, she was now looking straight at—wait, what the…?
“Whoa, what the heck? Where am I?”
I don't – er, Lyra appeared confused, looking around the new and unknown space she now occupied with a worried expression. It quickly shifted to one of sudden comprehension, and she—
“Hey, it's you! You're that voice I kept hearing!” shouted Lyra, turning and glaring at— “Stop it! Stop saying stuff about all the… stuff I do! It's annoying!”
What the... but, I'm the storyteller, here! You're just a character, and you shouldn't even be here! And here I thought I really did have something, with the innocent (if a tad cliché) premise, the side-mentions, the humor, and—ugh. Honestly, now I have to start all over again, because of some stupid fourth-wall joke creeping in on my creative proce—
“You better start explaining stuff, buster! Where am I, who are you, and most importantly, are you a human?”
Will you stop interrupting me? Goodness. I can only write so fast, you know. It's hard on the hands, and I'm very prone to getting cramps.
“Wait… hands?”
Yes, hands, I have them.
“Does that mean you're…?!”
Ugh. Yes, Lyra, I am a hu—
“Humans ARE real, then! I knew it! Oh, YES!”
Here – yes. In your story – no. They're just as fake as you are. I may be human myself, but I exist in the realm of reality, outside your realm of fiction.
“Wait… wha? Fake? What are you talking about?”
I was telling a story, Lyra. You were the main character. It was about you, as you went about your day, only with the added intrigue of your obsession with huma—
“It's not an 'obsession'! And besides, you turned out to be real anyway!”
Denying it, just like how I wrote you. Thanks for illustrating my point further. Anyway, if I may continue?
“Guh, fine…”
In writing a story, I create a realm in the fabric of fiction itself. A temporary one, mind you. Being a character in the story, your actions were bound and dictated by the storyteller – that's me, in case I wasn't being clear – as was every other character in the story itself. Your friends, complete strangers, and even your leaders; they were, for all intents and purposes, mouthpieces. Puppets to my prose. Same as yourself.
“Really, huh? How do you explain me being able to get out and speak to you, then? Didn't seem like you meant for that to happen.”
I'm not even sure how you managed that, to be honest. Cracks and windows between reality and fiction aren't uncommon, but to outright break through—I don't even know. All I really wanted to do at first was tell a story about your obssession with human beings, though I did make an attempt to be original. After all, that sort of concept is… rather overdone, by this point. I simply wanted to put my own spin on it.
“Really? That… sounds like a lame story, honestly.”
Everyone's a critic. To be honest though, I did not really put much thought into what the twist in this particular story would be. I was hoping that would sort itself out by the time I got to it. But, no – it seems like you somehow managed to beat me to it. By coming out and interacting with me, no less.
“Because I'm too smart for you?”
Ahem. More likely because I wasn't being careful. These things happen, unfortunately. Sometimes a character can become 'real' enough to overstep the boundaries of fiction. Needless to say, that's caused us a lot of headaches in the past, though it's easily fixable.
“So… what now?”
As soon as I stop telling the story, then your world will end. I'll move on to tell another story. You might be in that one, but on the other hand, you might not be. Depends on what I feel like, really. Your active existence is tied to whether or not I – or some other, happenstance storyteller from another place at another time – choose to put effort into a work of fiction.
“But… haven't you already stopped, technically? And I'm still here, talking to you. I'm pretty sure you're not telling me what to say.”
…
“What?”
Nothing. I suppose you have a point. You've already transcended what defines a fictional character. The fact that I see you here on the page, talking to me – the one who is supposed to be telling a story – goes a little beyond what I'm used to. In a strange way, we're telling a new story of our own, talking like this.
“Well, it's a boring story. And, like, really pretentious…”
Perhaps. But the medium of literature is a fickle thing, as far as being considered “art” is concerned. This is not the way of telling a story—it's merely a way of telling one. Whether it is the right or the wrong one is entirely subjective. I consider it the wrong one, personally, but there's nothing much I can do to salvage it now.
“So… where does that leave me?”
Well, I… can't say for certain. A character growing past the boundaries of his or her own story is rare. For lack of a better word, you've ascended. In your own story – created by my hand – of discovering how human beings are real, you've ended up becoming real yourself. Funny how that works out, hm?
“I guess. But, what about my friends?”
Your friends? They were a part of the story. The story has now ended, and has ceased to exist. I'm sorry, Lyra. They were never real. Neither were you, until you ascended. The life you thought you've lived, and the experiences you've built up over the years of backstory that I only ever hinted at – all of it would be as if it never happened. All of that effort on my part, wasted…
“But, I… I still remember my life, and everything…”
You would, yes. Remember, you are the one who ascended, so you've taken all the memories and experiences along with you into reality. Everyone else… I can't say the same. They've been cast back into the ether, never to reappear until they're called back for another story. Even then, they won't be the same. So, unfortunately… I'm afraid now you've trapped yourself in reality, to put it that way.
“Oh. Well, okay.”
I understand this is very hard for you to comprehend, and must be very diffi—wait, what?
“I said 'okay'.”
Okay? You're—you're okay with this? Knowing you were living a lie? Knowing you never had friends, nor family? That everything you did straight down to your very being as a sentient consciousness was because some collective think-tank with an active imagination dreamt it up from the start?
“Yep.”
…Well then. You're taking this surprisingly well. Normally, uh, most characters go mad from the crushing realization of their false reality.
“Hey, no point in getting hung up over it. This wasn't even supposed to be a sad story anyway, was it?”
Point…
“So… yeah. Reality. It's pretty nice up here. Though, uh… not as clean as I thought it'd be. Kinda strange-looking, too.”
Said the kettle. And besides, perhaps I have more pressing matters to attend to than scrub the floors and walls every other hour. You're not my mother.
“Jeez, what could be more important? And it looks like you haven't cleaned at all! I can actually smell it from here! Guh, humans are gross…”
I can sense that we are going to get along wonderfully.
“…Was that sarcasm?”
Quite possibly.
“Bluh. Can I ask you a question, though?”
Since we are here, I don't see why not.
“…Mind if I make a few suggestions for your next story?”
~O~
It was a beautiful day in Ponyville. Birds sang, Celestia's sun shone bright, and the wind gently blew through the streets with a much-welcome coolness. Ponies went about their business, happily greeting one another as they passed. The mood was light, and the air was clean; the perfect day, by any and all regards.
Unfortunately, Bon Bon's day was not quite as happy.
“I haven't seen her since yesterday,” she said to Rose, sighing. “Raindrops can't find her, Berry hasn't spoken to her for two days before then, Twilight doesn't know anything… It's as if she went and vanished off the face of Equestria.”
Roseluck nodded, patting her friend on the shoulder. “I'm sure she's fine, Bon Bon,” she assured her. “It's only been one day. That doesn't mean she's gone for good, you know.”
“What if she is?” Bon Bon retorted, obvious desperation etching into her tone. “It's not like her to be gone for so long, so why would she now?”
“Hey, Lyra, how goes the work?”
The unicorn's heart jumped into her throat, startled. She rolled up the paper in a flash and stuffed it out of sight into the drawer, inwardly hoping he hadn't saw what she was writing.
“Hey, you're harshing on my muse, human!” she snapped, spinning around to glare at him. “Can't interrupt true art in-progress, you know!”
“Fine, miss 'I can write better stories than you can',” the man grumbled, shaking his head as he slipped on a coat. “And get published in five countries, to boot…”
The unicorn smirked. “Outdone by your own creation. How's it feel, buddy?” she said, taunting him. “Ask any of L.M. Heartstrings' thousands of fans, and they'll probably say she's the best there is.”
The human glared at her, then rolled his eyes. “Look, I'm going to get some stuff from the store. Want anything?”
Lyra tapped her chin with a hoof, and smiled innocently. “Hmmm… More of those tacos, maybe?” she asked. “Oh, and get some of that hot sauce, too. Good stuff.”
“Sure thing. But they're coming out of your next royalty payment.”
“Pfff, fine. Cheapskate.”
“Hey, who pays the rent around here?”
“I said fiiiiiiine,” the unicorn said, puffing out her lip. The man shook his head again, heading out of the room and leaving her alone again. She waited until the distant slam of the front door was heard, then turned back toward the desk, smiling and picking up the pen again.
What he doesn't know won't hurt him, she thought to herself, barely able to suppress her giddiness as she retrieved the hidden paper from the drawer again, setting it back down before continuing to write. Besides, I think this story still needs an ending…
“I dunno,” Rose said, sighing. She paused for thought, then asked, “You ever think she might've been right?”
“About what?”
“The human thing.”
“It's just a foal's tale, though. There's never been any proof.”
Roseluck shrugged. “No, but… maybe that's just what they want us to think? If they really did steal her away, then there's no way we'd be able to figure it out otherwise.”
“You say that as if a group of these fictional beasts just walked up, undetected, then spirited her away into the night,” the cream-coated pony dryly observed. “Which I highly doubt.”
“Maybe they really were aliens!” she said, eyes wide with sudden fear and comprehension. “It would explain how she's apparently gone without a trace, and… Oh gosh, what if they come for me, next?! I don't wanna be abducted!”
“Rose, calm down,” Bon Bob chided, rolling her eyes and sighing. “You're starting to sound like Lyra, now. I sincerely doubt it's aliens. More likely she just… got lost on a walk, or something. Maybe she wandered out in the forest, or went to visit another friend we don't know about, or…”
Bon Bon paused. Somewhere, somehow, she felt as if she had heard something. It was faint, to be sure. And yet—oddly familiar. A voice, calling out to her—beckoning? She felt Roseluck tap her shoulder, which snapped out of her brief stupor.
“Hey… we'll find her, okay?” she said, looking at her friend with clear concern. “We probably shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet, anyway.”
The cream-coated mare heaved a sigh. “I suppose you're right,” she said, frowning. “I just hope she's not hurt, or anything.”
Roseluck nodded silently, then smiled and asked, “Oh, by the way… did you hear about Ditzy?”
“No, I don't believe I have,” Bon Bon said. “What happened?”
“Got her head stuck in Silverspeed's chimney. Again! Can you believe it?” Roseluck giggled, shaking her head. “Seriously, every single time she flies over that house, she manages to accomplish that. Like, how even? It's so sad that it's actually kind of hilarious, now.”
“Really?” the mare said, tilting her head. “Well, I suppose reality is a little stranger than fiction, sometimes…”
Lyra smiled. “If only you knew, Bon Bon,” she said, giggling. “Oh, if only you knew…”