"Well, I don't know," James lamented, his remark salted with a trivial amount of annoyance. "You sure ask a lot of questions, especially for something that I wasn't even there for."
"You're the only one who knows about it, though!" Twilight pointed out, "and it's for certain that I'd never get an answer if I didn't even try to ask. So, how about this instead: where did the buyers come from? If industry was expanding rapidly, producing vastly more goods, somepony had to be buying to fuel the economic growth."
The trip to return to the library had seen Twilight fling questions unending at James. The exchange at Sweet Apple Acres had sparked her interest about the technological development of his world and more specifically the period of rapid industrialization he had mentioned in particular. The revolution of industry that ignited a firestorm of manufacturing; it was a fascinating social dynamic to think about. Unfortunately for her, the more she pressed the bounds of his knowledge, the more blank pages he produced.
"I don't know!" James said again. His arms floundered about, grasping at straws, but his school memories couldn't resurrect the details. "Colonies maybe? There was a lot of territorial expansion in the age before, and more at the same time. Maybe... something about rising standards of living, too... but... I really don't know, Twilight."
A disheartened quiet briefly settled in, the pattern of inconclusive answers catching up to the unicorn's notice. Finally, instead of raising another question, she bemoaned, "I just wish I had a book or something! The Industrial Revolution sounds so intriguing, but naturally there's no library in all of Equestria which would stock anything on it! You're my only source."
"Sorry," he offered, not for the first time. "Before my time. I only learned so much about it in school, and quite a few years ago at that."
"I imagine there was a lot to learn. Accelerated technological development, social upheaval, all going on for decades!" She pictured the mountains of books needed to contain such treasurable knowledge and history, arranged in stacks and pyramids, rows and columns, shelf by shelf; a cityscape of literature. "I can't blame you for not retaining it all," she said to him.
"It's not particularly that, I guess. I'm sure I did read a lot. But I mostly focused on what I needed to pass the test on it," admitted James. "Then once that was done, forget it."
"Really?" Twilight wondered. The notion was incomprehensible.
Although she had uttered more of a subjective non-question, he still opted to give her an answer. Heaving a shrug, he told her, "I'd say studying means different things to you and I. So... sorry I don't remember more."
Hearing his second apology within the same minute, Twilight quickly backpedaled. "Oh, don't worry about it," she assured him, "It's just a strange kind of frustrating, you know? Can you picture it? There's a library somewhere, out in another world, and it's endlessly teeming with new things to study and learn! But there's no way to ever get a book from it!"
His face twitched with a friendly glower and he pointed on ahead. Following his finger, Twilight caught site of her own library coming up ahead of them.
"Oh. Right...," she whispered abashedly.
They arrived shortly thereafter and entered the building. A dull silence consumed the room as they shut the front door behind them. Spike was nowhere to be seen in the main chamber, though there were telltale signs of his recent presence: the room was well ordered and all the requisite chores were completed.
Twilight felt a shock from the transition to sudden stillness. The dry, almost aching emptiness of the room stirred her thoughts. She reached into her head to try and recall her daily schedule. Unfortunately, all the wrong turns and detours that had emerged in the road today had devastated any plans she had made, leaving her with little to salvage. There were her own responsibilities she could tend to; it wasn't like James couldn't handle himself as he usually did while she was busy. She had already spent much more time with him than usual today because of all the hullabaloo. Being able to afford eating the lost time was the value of preparedness, planning, and being ahead of your tasks, though. Yes, now, she thought, seemed a safe time to disengage from him.
"I suppose we'll need to wait for Gadget to come along again before we can do anything," she sighed.
"Sure, that's fine. Whatever," James replied casually. He was already halfway to the wall where he had earlier, before they left, set down several books.
Twilight cringed at his sudden return to a very indifferent tone. It was as if coming back to the library had immediately infused an aura of solitude into him. It was especially noticeable after he had seemed to do so well outside. In an instant she felt a creep of reconsideration crawl up her back and there was a nervous twitch in her tail. Inside her, a burning need sprung up. She should try to do something, anything, to drag him back to activity. It quietly pushed its way into her senses like an increasing burden slowly being lowered onto a creaking wooden pallet. But she struggled to improvise a solution in the absence of some other outside distraction.
Then she noticed the book he picked up as he sat down.
A tome of a delightful red hue, a dancing mare embossed in faded gold on the cover, with a well-worn binding from so many repeated openings; it was a book she knew exceptionally well. It was the only work of fiction among the small collection of recommended reading she had given him when he had first arrived. It was the hook she needed.
"Oh, 'Shadow of a Pony's Heart'! So you're reading it then?" she asked excitedly.
"Yeah, those other books are informative and everything, but they're hard to read at length without going cross-eyed. So I bounce between those and this," he explained. He held back his tongue on revealing that he was first inspired to pick it up after being impressed by her maturity; how he had somewhat regarded the ponies as being consumed with childish naivety at first, until she had shown him how naive that had been of him.
"While the reference material does a good job of being both comprehensive and concise, I know what you mean," she remarked. "I'm really glad to see you reading this one, though! It's one of my favorite stories! Where are you at?" Eagerly she brought herself over and sat in front of him.
James flipped the book so Twilight could see just how many pages were ahead of, and behind, his bookmark. He told her, "I'm at the part where Sidlesong and her friends reach the bridge that leads into the Shadowed Lands, but the guardpony Iron Curtain won't let them cross, for their own safety."
"Ah, that's a great part!" She practically spilled over with enthusiasm. "How they're able to-"
"I've gotten to that part, but I haven't read it yet," James interrupted.
"Right, sorry," Twilight innocently laughed, happy that he had taken enough interest in the tale to actively ward off any spoilers. "It really is a good part, though. I hope you like how it turns out."
"I'm sure one of Sidlesong's crew will do something to win over Iron Curtain and convince him to accompany them across the bridge and beyond," James flatly stated.
"... How... how can you be so sure?" Twilight responded faintly to his unexpectedly accurate prediction.
Her obvious disappoint confirmed his guess but he wasn't bothered by that knowledge. He had already been stoutly secure in his projection. "It's one of the most prominent themes of the book," he remarked. "Friendship, even reconciliation. All the ponies who go with Sidlesong over her adventure start out as either an adversary or an obstacle before they join up with her."
"Oh, you picked up on that already," the unicorn uttered. In a way, she was impressed.
"Well, sure. It's one of the first big things that happens in the book," expressed James, trickling with an ounce of confusion. It seemed obvious; the story really went to the trouble of establishing the lesson up front. "In the beginning, right before Sidlesong leaves her hometown, she faces off against her rival in that singing and dancing contest, and after she wins she immediately invites her rival along for the journey."
"I just didn't think the theme would seem so pronounced to you," Twilight admitted. She didn't remember how early she had picked up on it during her first reading of the tale but it definitely became one of her favorite aspects of the story once she had finally recognized it. "At least, I didn't think it would be so obvious until later on. It's really more tied together in the end when-" She slapped her hooves over her mouth.
James shrugged and a reduced laugh slipped out of his lips. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "I had some inkling of how they would deal with the Dreadful Dark Stallion in the end. Given how the book was going, I didn't imagine it'd break from the theme that flows through the whole story."
She was disappointed with herself for that leak getting through, but it was relieving to see how nonchalant he was about it. "I hope that doesn't ruin the ending for you," she regretfully rued. Then, to maybe lessen the blow, she offered, "I don't think endings always have to be a surprise to make a good book."
He mulled on her words for a moment before replying, "I'd agree. Sometimes it's true that HOW a story goes about its business is more important than WHAT the story is about. But I think you're right. Sometimes the opposite will work just fine."
"That the themes and core thoughts of the book bind the story together, regardless of what happens?" she verified. "I think so too. Some stories are great cause you really feel like maybe the good guys won't win this time; you get wrapped up in all that suspense. But other times you can't silence that part of you that absolutely knows beyond a doubt that they're going to win... but that's okay. Because you understand through the story just why they're going to win." Many different tales flipped through her mind. Even already knowing the ending to a story because she had read it before had never ruined her appreciation of it. "I think this story is a great example of the themes rising above, which is one of the reasons I selected it for you."
The remark made James stare back at her curiously, not completely sure what she was getting it.
Catching that, Twilight leaned in and asked him with intrigue, "Are there any other themes you picked up on?"
Seconds passed like the hollow ticking of a clock. Internally James raced through the his own summary of the tale so far, turning the details over again and again, but no other motifs called out to him.
"How about cooperation?" Twilight suggested. "Sidlesong is a bit clumsy, and though she does manage to beat her rival in the beginning, it's only with luck. And that's the big reason she invites the other pony along: she admits to needing the help." The story was engraved so deeply in the unicorn's memory that she could recite the exact dialogue the character used if she had to. But she knew she didn't need the words. The story demonstrated it again and again, and James was far enough in to see it, if he would just notice. "Then throughout the adventure, she and the others that join her figure out the best way to combine each of their talents against every obstacle they face."
It came back to him, retrospectively obvious under the spotlight, and he said, "I guess so. I hadn't consciously picked up on that."
"I think it's a very important theme. Sometimes we have to work together to accomplish things we can't do on our own." She smiled proudly. A familiar lesson. And always a valuable one.
James nodded, no stranger to the idea. One of the core principles of the military experience was the teamwork that went into everything, because your life will be in others' hands and theirs will be in yours. In reading the tale, why exactly had that theme slipped by him, while the theme of reconciliation had played out so clearly before him?
"I'd be interested in hearing more of your thoughts on the book when you get through it," Twilight suggested hopefully.
He bounced the tome in his hands, feeling the weight of how many pages he had to go. "Sure. It'll be a bit, though. I read it between the others. It makes a good break from actually studying the serious stuff. Since I am supposed to be learning here and everything."
The unicorn's eyes flashed as she slyly hinted to him, "Who says you're not learning about Equestria through this book?"
"Uh, well, it's a fantasy story," said James, touched by the peculiarity of her suggestion. "Fiction. Honestly, I thought it was a bit odd to package it with the other two fact books you gave me. It's not about Equestria like those are."
"But isn't it?" she immediately countered. "Go back to the themes again. There's not just something arbitrarily selected for the story. They're chosen by the author for a reason. In this big, wide, Equestria-encompassing story, those are the things the author finds right to press into the heart of the tale."
He began to catch on to what she was directing him towards. Why, exactly, she might have chosen this specific book. He spoke his realization aloud, "The story is a product of the culture."
"Exactly! You get it!" Twilight announced happily. "I didn't pull out 'Shadow of a Pony's Heart' for you because I thought it would be a fun story to share. Well, I mean... I do think it's a fun story, but... I pulled it out because I was already giving you things on the facts of Equestria but I also wanted to give you something with the spirit of Equestria."
"I see," James murmured. And it was true. How many school reading assignments were given to him precisely because of that same idea? "I don't usually think about it like that I guess. But one way to study other cultures, or even just the past in general, is to read and try to understand the stories and fictions that rise up from them, isn't it?"
"Sure!" Twilight instantly agreed. "And that's part of what they're there for. Stories that we pass down not just to entertain, or relay our history, but to teach. To reflect those things we think are, or were, important. We create these stories because they're such an integral part of us."
"Yeah, come to think of it," James realized, "even in dark times, like during a war, when somebody writes a story... even if it's not about the contemporary terrible things themselves, you can often feel those elements of it in the story... whether it's fear, or pride, or paranoia, or hope, or... anything of the feelings of that era. It gets in there." He was reminded of science fiction B-movies, and metaphorical monster stories, and other media where the villain of the day formed some obvious social reference.
"Well... 'write what you know' they say," recited Twilight. "I'm thankful there are authors who do. It leaves more than one way to learn."
James looked over the book in his hands once more. "In that light... I guess I can see how well this one fits in with the other books. So... thanks," he said sincerely. "I think I'm looking forward to reading it more now than before."
"Aw, you're welcome! I hope you like it!" Twilight answered heartily.
There was a dull, wordless moment that followed. When it appeared like nothing more was going to be said, James shrugged and shifted his attention back to the book.
Again a disturbing silence seemed to settle into the library, and to Twilight it was as if that dreadful, sullen aura had returned and overtaken her charge. Cold and still, he had his head down in the book, trying to gain traction in his reading. She could depart now to take care of her own things and he... should... be alright. Just another day of him sitting about by himself reading...
But maybe that was the problem. There had been trouble in the past with her leaving well enough alone. The welcome party Pinkie Pie had set up for him had turned out well in the end, but it had also certainly started off on the wrong hoof due to her decision not to step up and intervene in a more timely fashion. She had been giving him time and space for two weeks now but the distance and guardedness he had been keeping simply never faded. There hadn't been any improvement that she could measure, except in circumstances that she (deliberately or otherwise) had brought to him. He was lighter when company came. Today he had seemed to be shining until suddenly they had returned to the library and he had faded. Maybe now was the time to be a little more forceful.
"Ahem," she cleared her throat awkwardly.
James' eyes paused midway through the line he was reading.
Steadily she asked, "So... is everything alright?"
His hands tensed around the book slightly. She could perhaps be referring to his opinion of the book, but that's only what he wanted to believe. He knew exactly what she meant.
"Yes, I'm fine," he answered abruptly.
"I know," Twilight moaned, "but you say that every time I ask. I don't think you've ever responded to questions about how you feel with anything except 'I'm fine.' But I don't feel like you are."
Shifting uncomfortably and still keeping his eyes down on the book, he responded, "Well I am, don't worry about it."
"I AM worried!" she complained. "Obviously we haven't known each other for all that long, but I don't think all this... withdrawn solitude... is reflective of who you are." In fact, she was sure of it. He never would have been so sharing of himself if that were the case. "You're a different individual when we get you out... or when we bring others around here. And... and I know you've been through something hard, with not being able to go back to your home and everything-"
"Yeah, okay, but I'm fine!" he nearly shouted, working to restrain his anger.
The underlying aggression clearly upset Twilight some, and she stiffened so as to brace herself. She planned to dig into him more, if she absolutely had to.
James reproached himself for having let the pointless hostility creep into his voice; he just wished she would lay off the subject. Trying to be more forgiving of her, he offered, "Dealing with... big personal things... is hard, sure. There's a lot of emotions and everything... but that's for ME to deal with. And I'm fine. It's not like I haven't ever had to deal with complicated emotions before."
In a soft voice, Twilight echoed, "Maybe complicated is delicate? It can't be as simple as you're making it out to be." She put effort into looking him straight in the eyes and filtered her voice with honesty. "These past two weeks I've been trying to leave you some personal room... to give you space... so you can work through things," she admitted, "but remember that you can always come to me for help, or to talk, or anything! You don't HAVE to do it alone." The unicorn leaned towards him, nearly begging, "Please, talk about it... just a little. How have you been handling it?"
"Fine!" he thundered, before he quickly wiped his eyes and restrained his breathing. "I'm handling it fine. Just... taking time to... work things out or whatever." There was a drifting shake in his voice.
Twilight's unconvinced eyes stared into him. Days of reading by himself, or standing about in the rain pondering the weather, or engrossing himself whenever other things came around; she hadn't been able to monitor him all that time and she couldn't read his mind, but she didn't buy that he had sunk serious time into trying to organize himself.
"Maybe it's a little hard to talk about for you," she guessed. "But that's okay! We can take it in small steps. If you're upset or sad... we can work together to make you feel better! Everything will be alright."
"Don't be childish! Yeah, I'm a little sad about things maybe," James raved. He had a hard time putting a cap on himself now that it had all been let out, and he cursed to himself that this is exactly why he had been so withdrawn; to keep this all inside. But he wasn't able to stop now. "That's just the way it goes sometimes! Not every day is going to be a happy day! There's always going to be melancholy days now and again, that's just the way it is! That's normal! It's fine! I'm fine!"
He seized himself, trying to find a way to arrest his feelings. Harder than necessary, he threw his back into the wall behind him, trying to create even just a tiny bit more distance from Twilight, and he fumbled with the bookmark in his one hand. Desperate, he focused stringently on trying to pick up where he had left off in the book.
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry for pushing." Twilight squeezed out her words in an apologetic rush. It wasn't as if there was a part of her that liked upsetting him but she firmly believed it was her role to help him. She just needed to involve herself more. "Why don't I get us something to drink, or maybe some snacks, and we can just sit down, rest easy, and talk it over a bit?" she uneasily suggested.
James pushed his head down, as if by ignoring her maybe he could just forget it all and dive back into the book. But his eyes couldn't focus on the words written across the current page. He would forcefully read one sentence and find it somehow hadn't stuck to him, the lost context making the next sentence unintelligible. In a burst of frustration he slammed the book shut.
The emanating violence of the act made Twilight bounce. She brought her voice down somewhat, pleading, "James, I'm just worried. I'm your friend, and I'm only trying to help."
"Well, you're not," he laid out flatly, before immediately waving his hands with regret. A swish of his palm which tried to wash the comment away. "Not what...," he began, but his words dead-ended.
Twilight pulled back, hurt. The room grew cold.
In a flash, James rose up. He unceremoniously discarded the book on top of the nearby pile where the others were. "Applejack was right, I'm been sitting in this stuffy place too much," he angrily pronounced and suddenly made for the front door.
The unicorn twisted as he passed, calling out with concern, "Wait, where are you going?"
"Out!" he harshly replied, slamming the door as he went.
Twilight got up and took diminishing steps towards the door before she stopped, sighed, and hung her head low. Soundlessly, she turned and shuffled deeper into library.
He hoarsely whispered indignant words to himself, his mind racing down a similar track, as he crashed randomly through the streets of Ponyville. He stomped and slammed his feet upon on every cobbled walkway that he arbitrarily selected. As usual, any ponies he came across nervously moved to the side and created space for him to pass, shooting him a strange stare as he went. Today they dodged him with more urgency than usual, perhaps feeling the disorder radiating out from him.
What a load. Everybody gets some emotional baggage. She had a lot of nerve trying to drill herself into his. Striking the side of his head with his palm, he reminded himself that Twilight's intentions were pure. When he calmed down again he would need to remember not to hold it against her, and even apologize for some of his rudeness. He just wasn't happy with how she had chosen to go about her attempt at help. This wasn't some risky dive into the Everfree Forest; some matter where she had both the superior knowledge and legitimate authority. It was his business, and his problem to work through.
When he had first arrived in Equestria, there had been a few days of dealing with shock. Unexpected survival of a dangerous situation followed being presented with a rainbow circus of magic talking horses? It had pushed his capacity of believability to its limit, but it had also served as a happy distraction. It was in the following days, as all the tremors of shock had cleared up, that he had slowly felt the pain of separation emerge. It would come in pangs whenever he thought about the past, or when he saw any of the small things in life that were reminders of home. All the people that he loved: the near and the dear, the long remembered and the newly acquainted, the blood-bound and the soul-shared... all his friends and family... none of them he would ever see again.
It sucked.
But it was reality. And he could take it. He knew he could. He had already said serious goodbyes to them the last time he had departed. That was when he was shipping out to serve. Death, and never returning... the idea that it was going to be the last time he ever saw them... that was the reality already when he had left them. Even now, wherever they were, they would be presuming him dead. And he really was to them, in a way.
It was only on his end he wasn't quite dead. Being the living dead wasn't exactly something he had ever prepared himself for.
In any case, his plan had always been to deal with his heart in time. Just... at a pace he saw fit. Maybe as the days turned into weeks he had let his attention drift away from it as a matter of concern. Had let the books take over a bit more than they should have. That was okay; he was allowed that. It was still important that he learn about Equestria if he was going to live here. And it wasn't like he was short on time anyhow. Any possible ANYTHING for the rest of his natural life was gone with his transdimensional jump.
The rest of his life... gone...
"Hey!"
James blinked, the world coming into focus. He didn't remember how he had even gotten where he was. With a swift glance about to ascertain the situation, he realized he had stumbled into a slow afternoon at the market.
"Hey!" a yellow mare at one of the stalls called to him again.
The man pointed to himself questioningly, trying to verify that he was the one being addressed. He looked over at the pony who had beckoned to him, confused as to why she would call him, but then he suddenly recognized her. She was just one of the street vendors he usually bought some of his vegetables from. She obviously recognized him as well. Judging by her still present stock, the storm earlier had hampered her sales today.
"Yeah!" she confirmed for him. "Hey, mister! Coming out to purchase something today?" She swept a hoof over her goods as enticingly as possible.
That was it. For a moment, somewhere inside of him, James thought that maybe for once a townspony just wasn't treating him like an escaped zoo animal.
"No... just out for walk," he answered.
"Oh! Uh...," the vendor muttered nervously.
Seeing her balance thrown off, James began to turn away.
"Well... don't see you out walking much," the vendor suddenly said in an unsteady, if friendly, tone. "Usually you come by with that unicorn to get something."
"Just walking today," James reflexively responded.
"Oh." She shrank back, disappointed.
James stood there awkwardly for a moment before he hurriedly moved on, marching down one of the streets at random. There goes that potential conversation. She was trying to be neighborly. Nice work. Maybe she would have said something interesting, or thought-provoking, or distracting. But not anymore.
His frustration felt like a twisted knot inside. He almost thrashed the air as he walked, continuing to mutter to himself harshly. As the few ponies he passed gave him ever wider berths, he instinctively turned down a small, empty alley to get out of their sight.
As he stormed through he nearly tripped over a pile of discarded wooden boxes, his shin striking the edge of one as he passed in haste. Spitting angry words under his breath, he stopped to rub the fresh bruise. The rejected cartons were already partially splintered and broken, obviously being useless to whichever pony threw them out. He gazed at one of them particularly. It had one of its sides mildly torn through, the wood looking soft with early signs of decay, and the frame delicately clung on to the rest of the box by a loose nail.
With a heavy grunt, he grabbed the loose edge and gave it a twist. The torque ripped it off of the box, and then in a smooth motion he tossed it to his offhand and smashed his other wrist through it, shattering it.
Better. That felt good. Rebalancing himself, he took several slow, deliberate breaths. Immediately he felt calmer and more relaxed, save for the slight stinging sensation still lingering in his shin and wrist. Ignoring them, he continued on his way, emerging on a different street out the other side of the alley.
Maybe he should complete a walk around town. It would leave him the time to think about how he should go about apologizing to Twilight when he got back. But he still thought he had to make it clear to her that his feelings were his own business.
As he ambled along, trying to assemble a speech in his head, he felt a different sensation come to his wrist. It was cold and gentle, smooth and flowing, like a breeze. Picking up his wrist to inspect it, he noticed what the sensation was: the air passing through a three inch tear in his sleeve. His sleeve must have gotten caught on a jagged edge of the broken box and ripped.
"Great. Just great," he groaned, tensing up again.