//------------------------------//
// A Tale as old as Time (Foreword, kinda) 
// Story: The Legend of Escherelda: The Minish Mac 
// by Wand3r3r3 
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	First, there were the hard-working ponies--those of all three types--who cultivated the land and skies by working together. They were the ones who made this land habitable for their children to continue the duties of keeping it that way.

There were the Earth ponies, separating the duties of caring for the land with the Pegasi, where the Earth Walkers would plant the seeds that would sustain future life. The Pegasi and Unicorns would then come and help those seeds sprout with rainwater and sunlight, wind, and the careful distribution of all three of those elements. Unicorns did not know how to harness their magical prowess back in those times, but even so, without their assisting of the Earth ponies, this story may not even exist. Everypony was given their own significant role in making the land fertile for generations to come.

Then, eons later, there remained a new generation of responsible, hard-working ponies of all three races.
They were the Earth ponies who still paved the roads, laid the railroad tracks, posted the telephone poles, and founded the industrial and eventually evolved suburban life.
They were the Pegasi, who moved the clouds and struck the storms that would furnish the land with everything it would need for still more generations to come.

And they were the Unicorns, and now able and evolved to channel their magical abilities, they cast spells of protection in times of need and spells of harm in times of strife: inconsistent desires that could have been catered to their every whim.

But instead, they saw incredible reason in the efforts of the Earth ponies and Pegasi, and did not succumb to their selfish desires. They aided the others in their duties once more, just as nature dictated they would.




You see, there is a peculiar saying that needs no introduction, nor explanation.

Whether we like it or not, history is always going to repeat itself. Maybe it won't always be in the ever-repetitive and head-on apparent ways, but in the very same way, however, it never fails.

Ever since the foreign settlers from a land far away discovered Equestria completely on accident, the three races took it upon themselves to not only call it their new home, but ensure that future generations could do the same. They worked very hard, rested very little, and sacrificed close to all of what scare they had to come closer to their resolve.


And, over many thousands of years, history, along with its iconic figures, iconoclast geniuses, daring criminals, and even the simple townsfolk trying to right the wrongs in their lives have done their part, both keeping and adding to the script of life.



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We now live in a futuristic society where ponies are excessive in population and lacking in responsibility and respect. They are also left in want far too often, and a solution always just seems to be given to them.
The ponies of today take for granted the enormous amount of labor and loss the many generations before them had taken pride into. They take for granted the Earth that even still continues to produce crops for the under-deserving, and the roads their many forms of transportation ride on, spitting on it.
There is simply no more respect for the old ways. 

Everything that was, at one point, a marvel in ponykind's fruitful affairs has been replaced by the attention of modern technology. The same goes for old-fashioned ways of celebrating the holidays, like giving an actual, meaningful thanks on Thanksgiving and being with their families for Christmas as well. Even talking to ponies face-to-face has changed for the worst, mostly, although technology has some merits and benefits too, however little in amount, like if a loved one was in a different part of the country:

Well hey, they could get on their computers and see each other on each other's screens using Spyke. But other than that, they abuse it. They abuse everything good ponies like those of Apple blood have given them straight from the start.

Now, all everypony does is trash those values and replace them with easier and lazier ways of getting things done with these Smartphones and Email and drowning each other out with their earphones.

Most of them have forgotten about the radio and the railroads and books and old morals and values that really built the foundation for their lives, unbeknownst to most of them. And all the hard work they see out the windows of the gigantic houses they might not deserve or the chariots they thankfully give jobs to those who pull them? Not a single thought comes up as to why they're there.


They think God will save them and give them every little thing they want. And when that reality comes to failure, they resort to thievery, murder, fraudulence, and deception to advance in the game of life; the future that, quite frankly, is doomed. Thank goodness some very few parents at least try to keep their spoiled children in check.




"Mr. Macintosh?"
The withholding, irritant psychologist prodded at his patient's internal soliloquy. "I understand how you feel, no doubt there, but our session ended half-an-hour ago..." He was sitting at his desk with the door to his office shut, and the insightful red stallion leaned against the wall next to the door, starting to give his thoughts up.

"Uhh..." Big Macintosh had totally lost track of time, and he glanced up at the loudly ticking clock high above the sofas in the quiet rectangular waiting room.
Mac was seeing a shrink. "Heh," he chuckled. "I guess I got a little carried away there."

"Hm, yes...a little. Now, I do hope you're aware that I'm charging you for this hour too." Mac's eyebrows furrowed as he grunted and choked up, not too surprised about the outcome, however.

"Forget it," he said as he started to walk out the door.

"I'll see you next week!" called the psychologist. Mac heard his hidden plead and instantly construed his words in a sarcastic manner.

"There ain't gonna BE a next week for you."



That guy was just like the rest: focused on squeezing as much money from the patients they're meant to help. Money was apparently everything in this new day in age.

Is nothing real anymore?


Is there no one left that's real at all?




"Well I guess that was my break," he said to himself, sounding defeated as he did. It was a rare occasion. "Straight back to work." Mac smiled and headed back to Sweet Apple Acres.