//------------------------------// // You can flaunt what you don't have. // Story: Lost of thoughts // by CraftAids //------------------------------// Horsetown’s roadways divided the town into a perfect block grid. The middle of the streets were paved with asphalt. The edges were cement sidewalks. The ponies trotted on the sidewalks and used the carriages on the asphalt, as should be obvious. All forms of traffic always moved down the same side of the street. Buildings matched the owners and owners matched the neighborhood, with the skyscrapers clumped in one place and the warehouses in another and small, family houses in another. The weather was always sunny with a few drifting clouds, since no stable ecosystem needed to be maintained. In supermarkets, on sidewalks, in cubicles, in yards, there were smiling ponies everywhere. They all looked fulfilled. They all looked like everything was going their way. They all looked the way their momma told them to look. There were two things which a cutie mark indicated: talent and enjoyment. Cutie marks did not indicate what the talent was; the marks were often too abstract to tell what they were for. Only the pony with the mark could really know in full. Talent wasn’t guaranteed before the cutie mark, with some marks requiring years of practice before the mark’s appearance and some marks seeming to grant huge skill increases. Only enjoyment was a somewhat reliable indicator of a talent. So, employers looked for happy workers, and workers looked happy, under any conditions. Thankfully, managers tended to be good at their jobs and happy. Business owners weren’t totally free of this, since happiness indicated quality in their products. Even happy ponies with the correct job could be fired if another employee who they were in competition with obtained evidence of depression. So, unless they trusted those around them, had no competition, or something bad and related to their job happened, they tried to look happy. As a result, smiles became the cultural normal. Hot Air was smiling. Hot was trotting through the residential district, to the edge of town, where parking was free. His new acquaintance was walking next to him, sword resting on his shoulder. “So, what I am hearing… is… that you went into the wilderness because you felt like it, and you obtained a sharp object because having it makes you feel better?” “Uh, basically.” His facial expression remained a calm, unforced blank. Hot Air smiled wider. “And, why did you leave the wilderness?” “Well, I mean, the whole society thing is kind of nice, you know? If you’ve got money, you’ve got steady food. It’s kind of simple. That’s about it, right now.” “Well, what are you doing in Horsetown, then?” “I was going to join the fair. I thought it would be better than setting up a stand at the last town, but they said they didn’t need a blank-flank.” “That sucks. What’s your plan now?” He was silent for a moment. “I’m a three bit hobo with no talent or friends. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’ll probably try to get an internship or apprenticeship in something, or else I’ll go forage again.” “A hobo? How many towns have you been to?” “Two.” “You don’t saaay.” Hot chuckles lightly. “He he he, that would make you some sort of wild stallion, then. Wouldn’t it? I’ve been in the wilderness, too. There are all sorts of things out there, aren’t there? Not too many strangers, copious rocks, tons of plants, some animals, and a few dangers, all waiting. Ponies get a bit concerned with some of those dangers. Fairly often, they want ‘em gone, go figure. Sometimes they get a-mighty-figure-of-bits concerned. Mostly, they just get scared of a big beastie of sorts or a whole region that’s actin’ up. Though, sometimes, an old, lost item will get a price too, ‘cause someone will want it bad enough. “I remember, one time, a lake was just filled with giant piranhas. It was the easiest money I ever made: one lightning bolt, and done. I don’t mean it’s easy, ‘cause sometimes the kill’s too much for me on my own. I’m no royal guard platoon, I’m just one lonely dude stabbing things fifteen times my size. “You got any family?” It took him a moment, but he caught up with the sudden topic change. “Yes! Yeah. Yes- well, I did.” He looked straight forward. “I don’t think I’m gonna be seeing them again.” “Sorry to bring that up, then. My mom and dad are dead too. They burned their house down. They forgot to get out first, too. So, they died and, every once in awhile, I miss ‘em, since that’s how being dead works.” “It… yep, it definitely is. That’s pretty much… pretty much is. It’s like, every once in awhile, I want to do something which I know will be satisfying, and I don’t see a way to do it, and I’m not sure what it is, and disappointment fills me.” Hot let out two slow, low, approximations of laughs, “Heh heh, fills.” He blew air out of his nose in something that could have become a laugh. The barest twitch of a smile poked at the corner of his mouth. He tried not to smile. So, of course, he finally smiled. “There we go. That’s part of the way, you might just know what funny is, yet.” “Is funny on your shoulders?” “I’ll have you know that there isn’t a funny bone in my body, or anything else.” “Is funny on my shoulders?” “Let me check.” Hot walked behind him and stood on two legs, scrutinizing his shoulders. As hot moved his scrutiny along, observing the neck and then the back of the head and then the side of the head, his two-legged steps were shaky, wobbly, uncertain. When Hot got to his face, he dropped back to four hooves and burst out into a mildly convincing fake laugh. He merely continued walking as he responded. “Well, if it’s so funny, then I found it. I identified funny. I have reached the victory condition. I know what funny is; fuck the rules.” Hot made a choking sound and then made a far more convincing, real laugh. “Do WHAT to the rules? Ha ha ah, why would you? Ha ha ha, hooooow?” Hot got himself mostly under control. “Oh, that will do. That will do just fine.” Hot sat down and spread his wings, “Well, I have something I have to go do now, something out in the wilds that will get me a few bits, ya’ know? It sure would be easier if I had some help. Don’t blink.” Hot jumped into the air. A muffled, rapid popping sounded. Hot glided through the air and pulled back, flying directly up for a short distance before falling and sliding through the air on his back in a slow, rocking motion. He landed softly on two opposite hooves, with his front hoof on a higher surface than his back hoof, and his other two hooves raised and stretched out. His wings were still flared. He was posing and looking into the sky with a smile. He was standing on something. It was big, it was covered in gears and colored bulbs and white paint and copper. It was essentially a four wheeled, half train, half RV thing. Hot reached into his saddlebag and pressed something. Sparks flew in glass tubes. Steam rose from stacks. A door popped into the cabin and slid out of the way, leaving a dark entryway. He observed the doorway. “Sooo… I don’t really have anything else to do. I’m fairly sure you’re talking about employment…” He looked up at Hot, who was still ignoring him. “I’m… yeah.” He got in the vehicle. Hot dropped the pose. “Alright.”