//------------------------------// // 11: When the Lights Go On Again // Story: An Even Worse Self Insert // by ROBCakeran53 //------------------------------// When the lights go on again, all over the world And the boys are home again, all over the world And rain or snow, is all that may fall from the skies above A kiss won’t mean goodbye, but hello again. I have a bad tendency to mix up songs. A lot of big band, swing, and even jazz songs have similar beats. As much as I love Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller, Tommy or Jimmy Dorsey, and any other big time orchestra leader, to the untrained ears they were all so easily confused. Vaughn Monroe, however, was very hard for me to mix up. I had a special fondness for his music, his records even more so. “Um, what are you doing?” I blinked, looking to the purple mare on my couch. This time, I was not seated with her, instead standing behind and to the left, next to my lamp, currently turned off. No, not turned off. The bulb was busted, because of… of… “Luna broke my bulb,” I said, realizing quickly that I had a replacement in my left hand. My right hand held… I studied the packaging closely. Not real old by any means, but in this modern age, it was now officially a relic of the past. In my hand was the last of my original stock of incandescent bulbs. The last of an era. The song continued, Twilight giving me a strange look. “So, are you going to, change it?” she asked. Truth be, that was a real stupid question. Of course I was gonna change it, it was just… “This is my last one,” I said, tossing the empty box to the floor, and holding up the bulb for Twilight to see. “So? Can’t you just get more?” “Not like this. This is the last one. My last, original light bulb.” I studied the glass, rubbing my fingers along it. Twilight raised a brow. “It’s just a light bulb.” Vaughn Monroe had begun singing again, making me stare at my record player. Then, without looking at Twilight, I shook my head. “No, not really. I mean, they say the new bulbs are the same, but they’re… not.” I tried to pretend to not notice her raising a brow at me, so I continued on anyway. “It’s just, the world is advancing, starting with the mundane. First, they took away our analog signals, replacing them with digital, rendering most televisions everywhere almost useless. Then our light bulbs, I mean hell, when it all first started most of my lamps couldn’t handle them. They’d just pop and burn up instantly. Things are… changing, and I have to say that I’m not ready for it all.” “That’s part of life. Changing, growing, for the better.” Now I did look at the mare. “Look around you. To hell with that.” Twilight’s ears went flat, she trying to avert her gaze from me, but now she’d opened the damn and my words spilled out. “Everyone is trying to just change the world. Change this, change that. Do this, do that. They don’t think how it affects everyone. The majority, sure, but not everyone. Some of us don’t want it, or don’t care. We want things how they were, simple and cheap.” “At the cost of your resources and economy?” Twilight defended. “They’re always discovering new ways to do things, or make them better. I find it hard to believe that they have to change so much just to improve on one thing.” “Well, with time, everything changes,” Twilight said. I looked away from the mare, and studied the unused bulb. “I hate change.” Silence took over our conversation, the record player going quiet. “Is it the change itself, or trying to adapt?” Twilight asked. At her words, I broke out of my trance, and quickly replacing the broken bulb. Once installed, I went to turn on the lamp, but hesitated. “I want to say both, but I think I’d be lying to both you and myself.” I walked away from the lamp, returning to the player to start the record again. Twilight shifted, resting her back into the back of the couch, her forehooves almost into the air. “Sure, I have some of the modern luxuries in life. Internet, a flat screen television with a playstation four. So what? Those things are just things.” “Everything’s just a thing.” I shook my head, ploping onto the couch beside the mare. “No. My things, most of them anyway, are not just things. They are memories. Stories, lives long since gone, only alive by what’s in here.” I tapped onto my head, then reached for my glass of tonic water. “I feel like we’ve been over that already.” “We have.” I set down my cup onto its coaster. “But it does not change the fact that I’m pissed off that they’re going after such mundane things like the lightbulb. Come on!” I threw my hands into the air, letting gravity drop them onto my legs. Twilight’s horn lit up, and suddenly the lamp I’d changed the bulb in came to life. “Doesn’t look all that different to me,” Twilight said, studying the glass globe. I looked at the other two lamps on in my bedroom, directly beside me and to the other wall. They all looked the same, and yet I knew… “Doesn’t change what I know. Sure, they look the same, but I know what they are. Those aren’t regular bulbs. They’re new, forced upon us masses. Are they better? Sure. Are they saving the world? Probably. But for me, someone who cares little for the world and less for its surroundings, well Twilight my dear, I frankly don’t give a damn.” “But they’re not hurting your lights, are they?” “The early ones did. I had to re-wire the lamp over my dresser, because the LED bulb did something funky to it and burned it up.” “So what about these ones?” I stared at the lamp. The record player was silent again, had been for some time probably. I hesitated to stand, instead glaring at the white smoked glass of the lamp globe. Twilight didn't let me speak, not that I had a quick rebuttal at hand. “I think the lamp is what’s important, not the bulb. The later were meant to be replaced over time. They didn’t change how they screw in, did they?” I shook my head. “They didn’t change the size?” Again, my head shook, slower this time. “And they’re the same wattage.” “Technically-” “Okay, yes they’re lower, but they’re also designed to work with the original wattage.” Again, I conceded the point. Twilight’s magic lit up and the record player came on again. “You’re trying too hard to focus yourself into the past. So what if they changed your lightbulbs, or your television signals. The new bulbs still work, they gave you a box for your television to work. The world, in order to advance, has to change, and in that change, some things just have to go away. “I mean, do you honestly think the things you use now, even as old as they are, were so widely accepted when they were new?” I looked away from my glass of tonic, looking at Twilight, staring deep into her eyes. She had a damn good point. “It still doesn’t change how I feel…” “What do you feel, Alex?” I was silent for a good minute, allowing the song to play. “Betrayed. Forgotten. Left in the dust to rot away with what I have.” “Why?” I leaned back into my couch, the furniture beyond its years with wear and tear. “Because no matter what I say or do, if I try to better myself, change myself, or make myself more appeal-able to others, then I have to give it all up.” “What? Your things?” I nodded my head. “What makes you say that?” I stood, taking a step to restart the player. I clicked the latch, but waited with the record arm in my fingers, watching it spin for several seconds, then gingerly set it down. “No one wants to live in the past. Everyone wants to look ahead. I even do, to some extent, but not so far that I forget what’s come before. I like my old television programs, or my records. Is my vacuum a pain in the ass with an old style bag? Sure, but it works just fine and hasn’t let me down. Is my writing desk worn and missing layers of varnish? Sure, but it’s still set up the way I like it and is vintage. “I’ve tried to be with people, who say they’re accepting of what I like and believe in, but in the end it all ends the same. They just don’t want it. They don’t want to deal with the old, the slightly worn out, or outdated. They don’t want to do a little extra work with something that works fine, instead spend several hundred dollars for something that’s new and easier, but they gotta replace in a couple years. “I’m not like that, I can’t be like that. And thats… my end.” Twilight Sparkle gave me a sad look. “Your end?” I was still standing, watching the record spin, the needle and arm following the grooves. “I’ve cut back on drinking, even stopped completely at times. I’ve cleaned up my junk, my scrap, my cars and metal and overbrush and tires and on and on. I’ve changed so much of myself, and for what?” Twilight shrugged. “For nothing. It didn’t mean a damn thing. It never did. Because I will not change who or what I am. I am a junk collector, a cobblologist, garbologist, a drunkard, and at times an asshole. Above all else… I will not give up my God damned light bulbs.” “But… what will you do when they all go out?” Vaughn Monroe sang the last few chords of his song. Momentarily ignoring the purple pony, I watched as the arm hit the center return groove, and moved itself back to the resting position. With a clunk, the machine shut off, but not before the ceramic pad broke loose, causing the needle and guts of the arm to dangle, broken and needing replacement. “When that time comes, then… I guess I’ll go out too.”