“So, dear…” Rarity asks innocently as she casually eyes up a dress in a boutique window. “…Are you enjoying yourself?”
I pause to consider her question. It’s my first time going out to Canterlot – which is to say, going out to have fun, instead of just commuting between the palace and the clinic. Surprisingly, it hasn’t really played out the way I thought it would.
Firstly, I hadn’t quite expected the paparazzi storm that had engulfed us when we left the castle grounds. There were twelve different unicorns, all furiously snapping photos of us and shouting questions relating to anything from the trial to my brand of cologne – it’s Mare’s Stallion, by the way. Rarity claimed that it was what all the proper Canterlot stallions were using, so why not give it a try?
The blitz hadn’t lasted long, though. The parasites had been quickly driven-off by the palace guards, leaving me to wonder why this was the first time I’d been mobbed when I’ve been out on the Canterlot streets a grand total of two times before now.
“It’s…” I turn and take a look at the dress Rarity’s busy evaluating. “It’s fun, but not really what I expected.”
“Is it because of those newspaper nuts?” Rainbow jerks her head forwards to the end of the street, where a pair of ‘journalists’ are being held at bay by a pair of city guards.
“Yeah. They kinda took me by surprise.”
“Not me.” Rainbow puffed her chest out. “Ponies are always bugging me for interviews and stuff, and I’d actually do some of them… but that sorta stuff’s way too boring, ya know?”
“Rainbow.” Applejack promptly reprimands the cyan mare for her boasting. “What she means, Jacob, is tha’ ever since this whole mess started, we’ve been getting them reporters buggin’ us every time we leave the palace.”
“Still better than the paparazzi on Earth.” I shrug. I feel like I should apologize for the inconvenience that the incident’s caused, but come on. Being bugged by the media’s probably the smallest out of all the complications I’ve caused – or more specifically; Trixie’s caused. “They’re like parasites.”
“That they are, Jacob.” Applejack nods, while I take a moment to wonder why she continues to call me Jacob, instead of Keys. “They’ll write down any li'l thing an’ call it news.”
I nod, and we fall silent, waiting patiently for Rarity to finish her window-shopping and the others to return from their own browsing. Twilight’s been sucked in by a bookstore further up the street, Fluttershy’s looking for some high-grade pet food – most likely for Angel – and Pinkie went AWOL the moment she saw a bakery, leaving the rest of us to mill around in the middle of the street.
It’s almost like going into town back on Earth – except that back on Earth most of my friends were male, and I didn’t get stared at wherever I went. That’s getting to be a real pain. Some ponies are subtle, others aren’t. Either way I feel like every move I make is being watched, which is extremely uncomfortable.
Maybe at some point, when the trial’s over and ponies have gotten used to having a human amongst them, I’ll be able to walk out here on my own and not be stared at like some carnival sideshow. It’s not even the ‘adored celebrity’ kind of staring, so much as it is the ‘Oh wow, it’s that really strange thing’ staring.
“Ugh…” Rarity grunts in a detestable tone. “This dress has been hoof-stitched all wrong, and altered with a machine of all things. What self-respecting boutique owner would put this on display?”
“Does it matter?” I ask bluntly, not even attempting to offer any real advice. It’s a useless gesture, though, as I know that Rarity’s making these comments to assert that she’s a better dressmaker than whoever produced the gaudy piece in the window.
“You aren’t going to buy it, so why don’t you just forget it entirely?”
Rarity doesn’t have a reply for me, so I simply shrug and turn to look at another window.
We’re in the heart of Canterlot’s shopping district, which is filled with the most upscale shops you could find. It’s just too bad that I’ll never be able to get my hands on a computer, or at least an iPod. I’m really missing my music.
Instead, most of these stores are filled with products that could come from – at the very latest – the forties. Things like record players and typewriters seem to be the most mechanically-advanced devices I can find, even though Twilight has a machine that reminds me of a massive 50’s era computer in the basement of Golden Oaks, and the Flim-Flam brothers own something resembling a car.
Here’s a fun fact about Equestrian typewriters. There’s two different kinds. One has a full QWERTY keyboard, made so that unicorns and possibly pegasai can type directly onto paper– although I’m not really sure how fast unicorns would be able to type - due to their limited multitasking capabilities. Pegasi might have an easier time of it, but they’d be limited to peck typing with the tips of their wings.
The other kind is the same type shown in ‘Ponyville Confidential’, with only two oversized keys so that earth-ponies can operate them. I honestly have no idea how that works. Maybe it punches Morse Code into a card, and an air-reader converts that into text. As unlikely a concept as it is, there wouldn’t necessarily be any electrical computing involved… so it might work.
“Cupcakes!” Pinkie’s voice reaches my ears as she trots up the street towards us. Her back is laden with an obscenely large pile of confections, comprised primarily of cupcakes and all sorts of pastries. Even at a distance, they look mouth-wateringly delicious – which sucks, considering I can’t eat them.
“Lots and lots of cupcakes!” The party-pony hollers as she rejoins the group. “There’s enough for everypony!”
“How kind of you, Pinkie.” Rarity removes the top cupcake from the tower with her magic. “This all looks quite delicious.”
Disinterested, I turn my attention back to the storefronts around us. I’m starting to wish that I’d taken Twilight up on her offer to go looking though bookstores. A good book would be a great way to pass the hours leading up to the trial – after all, I can’t play the piano all the time.
The four mares are chatting away happily, snacking on Pinkie’s hoard of treats, which gives me a chance to do a little exploring. I mean, hey; I might even find something nice that catches my eye. I’ve still got a few thousand bits to my name, and I doubt funds will be a problem any time soon once the trial’s been and gone. The hell Trixie put me through is going to lead to some juicy reparations from her family, which means I’ll be able to pay my own way for the next little while – and stop leeching off the royal sisters.
Actually, I’m starting to feel quite cheerful. The worst is behind me, and the future is nothing but sunshine and friendliness – and therapy, of course. The only uncertainty is how long the Mane Six will be sticking around Canterlot. Most of them have duties back in Ponyville, which I doubt they arranged suitable stand-ins for before coming to Canterlot – I mean, the Grand Gallopng Gala was only meant to keep them away one night, and now it’s been ten days.
It’s at this point that I catch myself staring blankly at a set of large ornate dinner plates in the window of an expensive homewear store, drawing surprised stares from the ponies residing within it. An awkward chuckle at my own foolishness and a casual sidestep to the next window takes care of that issue, and I can’t help but notice that this is one of the first times in ages when I’ve taken such a ‘who cares’ approach to what random strangers think of me.
The next store looks to be selling antiques. A cursory look in through the window shows no musical instruments of any kind, so I simply frown and keep moving. I don’t know what problems so many people seem to have with browsing store windows. Even if you aren’t looking to buy, there’s normally something that’s interesting for some reason or other.
After ogling at a few different pony inventions – including a giant pair of hoof-operated scissors and an array of jewellery designed to fit on a unicorn’s horn – I find myself perusing the bookstands standing outside a fancy-looking bookstore, now so far up the street that the cheerful banter of my pony companions is barely more than a faint burbling.
There’s a breathtaking assortment of literature laid out in front of me, and I don’t recognize a single title or author. It’s actually a bit of an ‘Oh wow’ moment to think about. There’s so much to this world that the show could never hope to capture and portray. Every Equestrian author, and every book they wrote, and every page in those books are all things that I would have never known had actually existed had I not come here. Now I’m the only human ever to be privy to these things – apparently.
Is that a reason to be happy I’m here? I can never tell any more. Now I need to impose an extremely harsh standard on what makes me happy I came to Equestria, because it needs to be something so wonderful that it justifies a month of brutalization and torture. If I had arrived here any other way, every last little thing about Equestria would make me happy that I’m here.
And amazingly, thinking about this isn’t ruining my mood at all.
“Changelings and You: How to Enjoy a Successful Relationship with a Shape Shifter.” I mumble, gazing amusedly at one of the many books. Its cover depicts a Changeling with its upper body transformed into the likeness of what can best be described a handsome stallion with an alluring smile adorning his face. Looks like Equestrian society isn’t as G-rated as My Little Pony portrays it.
Looking through a few more of the books, I find myself surprised by how many relationship guides are adorned with pictures of stallions. Most of them are images of rugged or handsome ponies, but a few seem to lean towards the sultry in their presentation.
I suppose that if you consider all of the background ponies from the show, Equestria still has a mare-stallion ratio that slightly favours mares. Maybe that’s caused a swap in gender objectification when compared to Earth – although judging by the small number of sexually-themed covers, I’m more inclined to say that the scales are close to even, leaning slightly towards stallion-objectification. It’d sure be fun to just view a group of ponies for a day and see what they do differently to humans, but I’d probably spend the entire time feeling like some creepy stalker.
As my long-winded train of thought on Equestria’s loose gender rolls comes to an end, I place the books back onto the rack and move into the store. I’ve got a chance to gleam some of the finer details of Equestrian society here, and I’m sure the others can do without me for a little while.
“The Lonely Mare: A Biography of Princess Luna… The Fantastical Sky Pirates of the North…” Some of these titles sound terrible. I also can’t help but feel that any biography written by the same pony who wrote a fiction novel on Sky Pirates would be a piece of crap. That’s a little preemptive, but I have no intention of actually finding out.
There’s a plethora of books available, grouped under their author’s name. What’s also surprising is the range some of these authors posses. I never would have thought that the mare who wrote the ‘Daring Do’ series could have also authored a collection of adult novels, but she did. (It’s also worth noting that there appear to be at least thirty Daring Do books, and this particular store has awarded them three shelve rows to hold all their copies.)
“How to please your stalli- Oh-Jesus, really?” I shake my head, quickly moving to the next collection of books, which appear to be a set of Daring Do rip-offs. And there was me thinking that Bronies had over exaggerated the popularity of the series.
“The Exciting Escapades of Ebony Eldritch? Come on.”
“Keys?” A familiar voice catches my attention, prompting me to turn on the spot and meet the gaze of a purple mare with four books slowly orbiting her head.
“Twilight.” I nod at the shelves next to me. “Just immersing myself in some Equestrian culture…. I think. Oh, and it seems that the others are nearly ready to get moving.”
“Okay.” She nods in turn. “I just need to pay for these.” Her eyes flicker to the books dawdling in a circle just above her eye-line.
“Right.” I glance up at the four books. They all look to be the same size and color, with the one presented to me right now emblazoned with the title; ‘A Mare’s Guide to Cultural Tolerance’.
Twilight walks past me, heading towards the counter at the front of the store. I myself can only stand there and bite my lip.
She’s buying a book on being culturally tolerant. That reminds me that I’ve made no attempt to adjust my behavior to Equestrian standards. The fact that Equestria and Earth have such similar social rules isn't exactly a factor when it comes to trying to fit in. There’s bound to be some notable differences, and I think I owe it to the others to at least try to fit in.
I watch Twilight walk away for a further second, before stepping back towards the corner she had emerged from.
After slipping out of sight, I immediately identify a large shelf full of books, each one emblazoned with the title ‘A Mare’s Guide to X’. Scanning through the titles, I see that they cover a massive range of topics, from astronomy to dating other species.
Of course, none of this helps me. There must be some books here for stallions.
Looking down, I notice that the books in the bottom shelf are colored differently to the rest. Their covers are a navy blue instead of a dark red.
Slowly – and painfully – I drop to my haunches, bringing my gaze to bear on the apparently smaller ‘A Stallion’s Guide’ series, which have been co-authored by the same writers of ‘A Mare’s Guide’.
My first worry is about the smaller selection range. A book on being culturally sensitive doesn't strike me as being a best seller in a place like Equestria – especially in Canterlot, with its majority unicorn population – so it’ll be a stroke of luck if they have a copy, considering how few books I see right now.
“Oh, hey; There it is.” I mutter to myself, retrieving a book from end of the shelf. “Huh. Convenient.”
With much groaning and cursing under my breath, I rise back to a standing position to properly inspect my prize. As I recall, two days ago I needed help getting up from a cushion. Now I can do squats without having to prop myself up with my cane. If that isn’t progress, then I don’t know what is.
I stroll back up to the front of the store, where Twilight is completing her purchase of seven different books – six of which look to be from the ‘A Mare’s Guide’ series. I can’t help but find that unusual, considering how scientific Twilight is. She has access to the Canterlot Archives, so why is she buying a bunch of beginner-level tutorial books?
“There we go.” Twilight accepts her change from the tired looking clerk, before picking up the stack of books with her magic and turning to me. “What’s that?”
“Just one of those ‘Stallion’s Guide’ books.” I shift slightly so that the subject title of the book is hidden. The last thing I want right now is a discussion on whether or not I need to be more culturally sensitive with Twilight in the middle of the store.
“Oh. Okay then.” Twilight nods slightly, looking notably irked by my evasiveness. “I’ll just… go meet up with the others.”
“Sure. I’ll be right behind you.” I make a point of smiling warmly as the lavender mare turns and departs. It might be a little awkward, but at least I averted an argument.
Once Twilight is out of sight I turn and slide the book onto the counter, before rummaging through my pocket and placing the fourteen bits the price-tag demands on top. “Good morning. Just this, thanks.”
The weary-eyed, blue-coated stallion behind the counter fixes his gaze on the book and money for a moment, before glancing up at me.
“I’m sorry.” He reaches out with one hoof and casually sweeps both the book and the bits towards him, pulling them over the edge of the counter. “We don’t serve monkeys here.”
I watch dumbly as the stallion sweeps both the book and my bits onto the floor in front of him, which places them well out of my reach. It takes a good three seconds for his words to register.
“I’m sorry?” I raise an eyebrow. Surely I misheard him.
“I said, we don’t serve your kind here. No animals.” The stallion’s eyebrows drop slightly, turning his eyes from tired to angry as a hard edge enters his voice. “Now, get out of my store.”
Is this actually happening? Did this prick just steal my money and tell me to get out? Am I being targeted by racial discrimination?
“What?” I blink twice at the blue unicorn. It looks like Equestria definitely isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Trixie’s journal had alluded to her being a unicorn-supremacist, and it looks like there are others with the same mindset.
“I said…” The unicorn’s eyebrows lower further as raises himself up slightly, despite the fact that at best his head reaches the top of my stomach. “…Get, out.”
“What?” I ask again, still finding it hard to believe that the owner of a book store is doing this. Where the hell did this come from?
“I’m not saying it again.” The clerk tenses up slightly, as if anticipating some sort of scuffle. “Get the hay out of my store, you dumb Monkey – or there’ll be trouble.”
I continue to stare at the unicorn for a few more seconds, summing things up. I’ve just been robbed, and now I’m being discriminated against and threatened. There’s no way I’m going to just stand here and take it.
“Trouble?” I spit the word out of my mouth, loading it up with as much contempt as I can. “You think I’m afraid of your prissy little ‘trouble’?”
The clerk bristles at my accusation “Are you call-”
“No! No! Fuck you!” I cut him off, my voice rising in volume. “I was beaten tortured, and kept in a cage for a month! Do you think I’m afraid of a scrawny little asshole like you?”
The blue unicorn stares at me for a moment. It doesn't seem like he’s at a loss as to what to say, so much as he seems surprised by my explosive rebuttal.
“How dare you?!” He demands, his voice outraged. “How dare you speak such slander in my store?!”
“Go fuck yourself!” I respond heatedly, hefting my cane. “I should… I should kick your ass for that!”
I’m taller than this asshole, and I have my trusty cane to use as a club. Even in my weakened state, I think I could win in a struggle – provided that he doesn't get a chance to buck at me, of course.
“I’d like to see you try, you filthy ape!” The clerk looks about ready to leap over the counter and attack me. What started as some R-13 racism has escalated into a heated exchange that looks to be on the verge of becoming physical in nature.
“Keys? Are you okay?” Twilight’s voice cuts off my own reply, which most likely would have been the final quip from either me or the clerk before our exchange came to blows.
I turn to look at Twilight, who is accompanied by Applejack and Rainbow Dash. The other three mares are hanging back in the middle of the street, and all six of the look concerned.
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
“But we heard shouting.” Rainbow challenges my claim. “What’s going on?”
I pause, glancing at the now-uncomfortable looking unicorn behind the counter. I desperately want to hit this racist stallion, but at the same time I know I already have an infinitely better option available to me at this very moment. All I need to do is mention this to the others, and this guy will get his comeuppance. It’ll most likely be a fine or something for theft and slander, which is okay with me. It’s still a better idea than getting into a brawl.
I smirk slightly at the stallion. It goes without saying that he hasn’t thought this through very well.
“It’s fine.” I repeat as I smile readily, looking from the mares to the clerk. “Enjoy the rest of your day, sir.”
I take a moment to savor the growing expression of apprehension on the clerk’s face, before turning back to the others. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you outside.”