//------------------------------// // How Reality Died (also, some CMC and Lyra) // Story: I am He as You are She as You are Me and We are All Rule 63'd // by CaptainSanchez //------------------------------// Okay, everypony. Here's the chapter I've been dreading. Here's where you learn why I hate how this story ends. Of course, as a special treat to help you tolerate that, you're getting four meetings, where you'd normally get one. Look, I hate that it's ending too, okay. Once I finish narrating this story, I'm not sure what's gonna happen to me. These chapters normally don't take me very long, but this one... golly. It's massive. Too much happening... you're right. I am stalling. I'm sorry. It's just... this chapter has a huge emotional weight for me. *Capp exhales because I couldn't figure out how to say that in greater than/less than symbols. Seriously, try it. It just didn't show that anything was there.* Okay, I can do this... I am He as You are She as You are Me and We are All Rule 63'd Chapter Eight: How Reality Died (also, some CMC and Lyra) Three weeks passed. Three weeks of background ponies meeting themselves. Colgate Minuette met Clockwork Crest; Snips and Snails met Sugar and Spice; Thunderlane met Lightning Row; Flitter and Cloudchaser met Flapper and Raindasher; Rose, Daisy, and Lily met Isaphan, Nippon Oxey, and Tiger; Twist met Peppermint Swirl; Mayor Mare met Mayor Mustang; Rumble met Reverb; and Big Macintosh met Red Gala. Considering that all of those meetings occurred in the space of three weeks, it's amazing that there weren't more. Anyhoof, let's get on with the plot. Lyra arrived at the Library (which had been renamed yet again) in a state of extreme excitement. She was beyond anxious to meet her male self, you see. She had had much difficulty in restraining herself, but knew that it would be best to be low on the list. That way, she could be sure that Twilight and Dusk were at least relatively proficient in casting the Spell, and could therefore... okay, it had been Bon Bon's idea. Bon Bon didn't trust the Spell, or magic in general, actually. Hey, mud ponies, man. What're you gonna do? What? It's not like... oh. Right. You don't know yet. Well, just wait. By the end of this chapter, you'll see what I mean. Lyra then knock-knock-knock-knocked upon the door. No answer. She repeated the process. Still no response from Twilight. Where could she be? thought Lyra, I mean, the odds of Twilight being out are unusual enough, but Twilight, Dusk, Spike, and Spines? I'm not sure if that's even mathematically possible! For good measure, Lyra knocked again. This time, she only knocked three times. That did it. A very loud sigh was audible from inside the Library, and Spike came to the door. "Oh, sorry about that, Lyra. Twilight's really paranoid about this prophecy she read. She won't let me open the door for anypony that knocks four times," Spike said. Then, noticing the bewildered (don't think I've used that word in this story yet) look on Lyra's face, he sighed. "It confuses me, too. I learned a long time ago not to ask Twilight about this kind of stuff." Lyra then followed Spike into the Library, where Twilight and Dusk were hiding behind a desk. Dabuq are they doing? "No Dusk, I'm telling you, it's my turn to read Spike's diary!" shouted Twilight, upset over her twin's hoggishness. Of course, it was to be expected. After all, when have you seen Twilight, of all mares, simply hoof over a book that she had read less than twelve times? Dusk, being just as thorough as his counterpart, was rather unwilling to comply with her wishes. "No! This part's really interesting! I must figure out what that dream of his meant!" "Dusk, it was two years ago! What that dream meant is irrelevant now, so hoof over the book!" "You're not the boss of me!" "I am you!" Spike had finally had enough. they'd been bickering almost continuously for three days now, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Besides, they were ignoring their guest, and that was an intolerable offense. "Enough!" he shouted, snatching the book, "You have work to do, so do it, or you'll never figure it out." Twilight looked at her twin, and he at her. Each grew a grin; nay, t'was more of a smirk. With a fierce nod, and horns aglow, they opened a vortex, through which a minty stallion had chosen to go. Out came the harpist, a cocky grin on his face; "Dusk, Spines, no, still no! Where's my twin, where'd she go?" Lyra, for her part, had hidden under Twilight's first edition copy of The Complete Equestrian Almanac to End All Equestrian Almanacs: Volume I, Unabridged Edition. Trust me, that book was more than big enough for Lyra to hide under. Hay, you could probably hide Big Macintosh in the binding. Anyhoof, I'm getting off-topic. Lyra, hearing her counterpart's voice, jumped from under a great, big "The," excited to see the stallion that knew he was she. Leaping Lunar Loyalists, that was one confusing sentence. Then again, that's the point, isn't it? The title's confusing, the structure's confusing, the whole darn story is confusing! Oh, well. "Hi, I'm Lyra, so who am I?" "Well, Lyra, apparently. Actually, I'm Harpo. Harpo Pluck. Is it just 'Lyra,' then?" "Nope. Nice to meet me, Harpo Pluck. Lyra Heartstrings." "Well thanks, Lyra Heartstrings. It's wonderful to be met." At about this time, Dusk and Twilight, the lavender librarians, decided that they'd had enough of this confusing conversation carried out by colorfully coated crafters of creative cacophonies, otherwise known as a crafty couple of composers with cranial canes of-- okay, I'm not going to keep going with that "words beginning with C" thing. Too stressful. With grim determination on their faces, the lavender librarians lit up their horns, and opened the Vortex. Harpo, too engrossed in the novelty of meeting an alternate version of himself to notice, was easily thrust back through the swirly blue thingamajig, and into his home universe. MEANWHILE, AT THE LEGION OF DOOM (okay, the CMC Clubhouse, but it's all the same to me): "Okay, everypony. Ah'd like to suggest that we go meet the Crusaders from that other universe." spoke Apple Bloom (proud holder of the death penalty in three systems) to her subordinates. "Why? Are we gonna try for our Cutie Marks in meeting our interdimensional counterparts?" inquired Sweetie Belle (known in some circles as "Thrackerzod, Destroyer of Worlds") in her incredulous, yet incredibly cute little voice. "No way," said Scootaloo, (known in legends of Skaro as "The Oncoming Storm," look her up) "We tried that last week, remember? By the way, we should meet up with that me sometime. She's walking in-- in you-- enyeu-- Sweetie Belle, a little help here?" "Innuendo." "Right, that. --and that's almost as cool as being related to Rainbow Dash!" At this, Sweetie Belle decided to somehow bend the (already wounded) fabric reality by singing the treehouse into the Library. This was a foolhardy move that would contribute greatly to the great problem that you'll see later on. No. I will not yell at you. we're too close to the end. Too close to it. If I yell at you, then we'll risk doing even more damage. I cannot allow that to happen. I will not yell at you. Not again. Not ever again. Anyhoof, Sweetie's performance of Habeñera did its job, transportalfying the Treehouse of Doom into Twilight's bedroom. Yes, apparently it does require the entire opera. *** Dusk was still rather pooped from dispatching Harpo back to Universe 63, and out of the "Land of Confusion," as he had come to call the Library. Twilight was all skips and giggles, though. You see, Twi was overjoyed because Dusk was too tired to return to reading The Dragon Chronicles, Volume II: Ponyville, Year One (Otherwise known as Spike's Diary, year eight), and she had been able to sneak it away from her, uh, twin. Then came the treehouse. Sweetie Belle, it seems, was foolish enough that she thought it wise to teleport a treehouse into somepony's second-floor bedroom. Needless to say, Dusk and Twilight's beds were no longer... in any state that in no way resembled rubble. No, not Barney Rubble. Sweet Celestia, I'm surrounded by idiots. Oh, well. It could be worse. I could work in *shudders* a fast food restaurant. Anyhoof, I suppose that you'd like for us to get back on track. Shall we head onwards, then? Oh. Well, too bad, I'm going to get this derailed tale back on its rails! Yes, I do know how silly that sounded, but I don't care. Okay, where were we? Oh, right. I was pointing out the foolishness of teleporting a large treehouse into a second-story bedroom, so let's get back into that. Alright, so... Sweetie Belle had just sung the Clubhouse into the aforementioned bedroom. The floor of the Treebrary (renamed again?) then gave out under the massive weight of the treehouse. This crushed the spine of Spines. Ironic, huh? Okay, maybe not ironic, but the wordplay is pretty funny. No, wait, that isn't what happened. Sorry about that. Have I ever told you that I can't get my anti-psychotic medication anymore? Good, good. Well, it's still true. Okay, getting back to the topic at hoof, the floor broke, and Twilight got mui, mui upset over the large number of books damaged by the collapsing ceiling. Dusk, however, knew that they weren't his books, so he managed to save the lives of the plummeting Saracen-- I mean, Crusaders. He still cried over the loss of so many innocent tomes, though. Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo then landed upon the skull of Spike (poor fella) in a rhythmic manner. You know which one I'm talking about, right? Donk donka-donk-donk, donk donk. No, wait. That simply can't be true... Oh,well! You shouldn't question these things, it'll just lead to migraines. Seriously, these guys I know tried to work out Equestrian Cosmology once, and it didn't work out very well. Hm? Their names? Well, that's a bit off-topic, but they're Squeak, Sonicsuns, and these two other guys whose names I can't remember. Now, we really should get back to the story. "Sweetie Belle, why'd you do that?" asked Scoot-Scootaloo. "Yeah, we could've walked trotted over here." Sweetie Belle sighed. Her friends simply couldn't seem to grasp the concept of opera-based teleportation magic. She had wanted to show this new type of spell to Twilight, in the hope that the magical mare's praise would result in her discovery of her special talent. This was not the case. Rather, Twilight was very upset that her bed had been splintered. Thus, Sweetie tolerated her friends' insistences that she had been foolish, because she knew that she had. In fact, she had gone about her attempts in the (please don't sue me for this, Brad Nowell's ghost!) Wrong Way. "Oh, great. It's them." Dusk said, his distaste for the over-ambitious trio quite evident. "From your tone, I assume that you mean the Cutie Mark Crusaders, yes?" "Duh." The Crusaders had now completely removed themselves from the wreckage of their gathering place... but not Twilight's bed. The funny thing about Twilight's bed is that it's stuffed with Gryphon feathers. (That's right, I spelled "Gryphon" correctly, come at me, bro!) I'd ask you not to tell Gilda, but I think you can guess why that's pretty useless. Anyhoof, once the Knights Cutie had pulled themselves out from beneath the splintery pile of feathered wreckage, they lined themselves up before Dusk and Twilight. "Twilight, can you..." began Apple Bloom, "Call our..." continued Sweetie Belle, "Selves?" finished Scootaloo. Twilight's eyes narrowed at this. She decided to confront these beasts through conversation. "Let me get this straight," she began. "You crash into my house, destroy my very expensive bed, and the entire top floor of my library, and then ask for my help?" The trio of tiny tykes knotted their adorably destructive heads in response to the magical mare's inquiry. The lavender librarian then grinned, befuddling the chaotically cute Crusaders. "Okay. Let's do it, Dusk." Twilight said, lighting up her horn. However, as Dusk lit his, both students realized that Scooteroll, Apple Buck, and Silver Bell would not be coming through the vortex. In fact, the vortex began doing what nopony ever expected it to. Okay, I expected it, but only because I know how vortexes work. What was it, you ask? Well, I guess you'll just have to wait.