//------------------------------// // A Necessary Post-Mortem // Story: The Little Curiosities // by Comma Typer //------------------------------// “Will you excuse us for just a moment?” And Starlight poofs herself and Trixie away from the portal and into one of Canterlot High’s empty classrooms-turned-supply-storages. Outside ponies and other creatures could be heard hauling boxes of relief goods meant to help the former human populace back onto their non-human feet. Trixie snorts with her signature eye rolls. “Look at it this way, Starlight: If there is anyone to blame, it’s him. He asked about how my life was like since I was born a unicorn into a family of unicorns who live in a world filled with magic... and unicorns.” “That doesn’t mean you should rub your equinity over his no-longer-human face!” Starlight shoots back. “That’s just plain speciesist!” “Are we not superior?” Trixie says. “I mean, you yourself told me what they used to be: they have no magic, they do everything they can by their magicless selves, they leave the rest to fate, and they eat innocent creatures for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” “Fluttershy takes care of carnivores, we’re literally allied with the griffons and the hippogriffs, and we’re best friends with a bugpony who’s okay with eating bugs.” “A-ha! You haven’t refuted my first two points!” Starlight sighs. “Okay, Trixie, let me put this in another way: In a world without magic, is there anything wrong with having no magic?” “Yes.” “… why?” Trixie harrumphs self-assuredly. “Because there’s no magic!” Starlight resists the urge to slap her own face and risk accidentally stabbing her hoof with her horn. “Alright, Trixie, I want you to put on your empathy goggles for just a moment.” Trixie holds her head high and puts on the imaginary empathy goggles. "I'm listening." Starlight takes a big breath. “So, you say they do everything by themselves without magic, right?” “That’s true! Could you imagine ponies surviving without magic? Not even our ancestors before Hearth’s Warming would have liked this outrageous idea of no magic!” “By that logic, then, you’re saying that humans accomplished what we would consider impossible.” “That would be surviving without magic, wouldn’t it?” “Well, for starters, they couldn’t control the weather at all.” “Pfft! Easy! They just build shelters for themselves just like the non-pegasi did! They probably couldn’t match up to Earth ponies’ sturdy architecture.” Starlight blinks a little tighter than usual. “Comparing apples to oranges aside, what else did you think they had to do without magic?” Trixie performs a long hum of thoughtfulness, a rare sight and sound for her friend. “Crops. Crops without Earth ponies would be lame. Ah!—I bet missing out the whole magic thing, not just the unicorns, would make for a dreadful world too.” “But it wasn’t dreadful and you knew it,” Starlight answers. “I went here and what I saw wasn’t a dreadful world, nor was it conquered by evil magic forces that feed on hate.” “You’re saying they’re just painfully average?” “Maybe yes, maybe no, but I told you all about humans and their world those few times I came over here: how humans have all of this technology, all of these cool inventions we’ve either just prototyped or don’t even have at all! Drones, cellphones, cars, artificial satellites, invisibility spells but without the spells—those are things you read about in science fiction, Trixie!” “So they’re a sci-fi species.” She shrugs. “Good for them.” “That's not just good, Trixie. They made all of this without magic. No magic powers to aid them or stop them; it's only the environment and themselves. They make their own magicless magic, tinker things around, and, before you know it: modern civilization without magic!” Trixie remains unblinking in the face of fact. “So?” “I don’t see Twilight clobbering other creatures for not being a pony. I’m sure you don’t see me clobbering others for not being a pony too. Other good-hearted creatures don’t clobber us for not being yaks, dragons, or changelings.” The stage magician twirls her hoof around. “And…?” Starlight lowers her head a little. “No matter what creature one may be or used to be—even if it’s across universes—they’re all unique and special in their own way, in their own environments, and in their own cultures. As long as they aren’t evil and oppressing others like what Chrysalis did, we should let them be or, better yet, join them and be part of each other’s lives.” A deep, solemn groan fills Starlight’s being. “That only makes losing humanity much more tragic.” Trixie then stares off into the distance, looking out the window. “When you put it that way, Starlight… point taken! Now, let’s get back to work and maybe we can buy some ice cream—” “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.” Trixie rolls her eyes again. “You’re seriously going to make me make it up to him, aren’t you?” “Uh, who are you and why are you at my house?” For the twentieth time in the span of half an hour, Trixie sighs, the unicorn standing at his doorstep. Unbeknownst to the householder, Starlight lays watching in a nearby bush. In a dramatic voice, Trixie declares, “I sincerely apologize for being speciesist toward you. I shouldn’t have brushed off your humanity like that. It was very wrong of me to say that you should’ve been born a pony.” “Oh, is that all?” “Yes. That’s all. What else would you want, Mister Flash Sentry? Invite me in for some biscuits which you seem to have in your human vending machines?” “Not really.” He glances at his flapping wings. “I just don’t mind. I’ve always dreamed of flying. When I got the hang of it, I was golden!” Trixie stomps the ground in delight and victory. “Hah! See, Starlight! I told you he wouldn’t care!” “Why are you talking to a bush?” He looks over Trixie’s withers and sees it trembling. “Uh, why is the bush smacking itself on the head?”