//------------------------------// // Conversation 13: Twilight Sparkle // Story: Aporia // by Oliver //------------------------------// I mentally cursed Mary and her question for the umpteenth time today. Because I see sandwiches everywhere. Not actual sandwiches, of course, but things just as mind-bending as the sandwiches. There is that possibility that I’m just too clumsy with my hooves, having never used them quite as much as most of my friends would, but there’s no denying that I actually prefer to dictate whenever Spike is around for a reason. Sandwiches themselves are sketchy, reasons to adopt a two-slice sandwich other than the one Mary cited might exist. I can’t see any, but they might. But that is really beside the point. Everywhere I look, everything I look at, I find simple ways to improve the lives of ponies just by making things we already use more adapted to our anatomy, so much, that it becomes painful to watch everypony struggle with day to day tasks without even noticing. We waste staggering amounts of effort. Shovels, pencils, saws, hammers, knives, bags, zippers, doors… And the only tools I can remember that are distinctly adapted for ponies are the yoke used to pull carts and that fancy umbrella saddle that Rarity has. And I’m sure she only has that because it goes with her raincoat. Which she only made because she looks good in it, everypony else just memorizes the rain schedule posted by the town hall. Without our special talents being boosted by the magic of cutie marks, many tasks would become too difficult to do in the volumes required, our civilization would crumble in weeks. Agriculture wouldn’t be able to keep up, even with earth pony magic, we would be reduced to grazing. If she had to graze, Rarity would actually prefer to starve, together with half the population of Canterlot. Those teacups with those round loops on the side. I saw Mary put a finger through it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It lets her vulnerable fingers avoid the heat of tea. Hooves just aren’t that sensitive to temperature. Even Spike only puts his talon through the loop when he tries to make a show of table manners. But it was my teacup. Why the hay didn’t I just buy a simple, elegant bowl, when I levitate them anyway?! They use bowls in Saddle Arabia! Why not a square bowl with flat sides and round top, to hold it easily with my hoof? Just because the shops didn’t have any on offer? I could use flower vases, these come in all shapes and sizes! They’re even prettier, and nopony would be able to tell! We can’t simply be too stupid to notice that! New tools are invented all the time, and they all seem to have the exact same faults. Even if, as Mary supposed, we were somehow enchanted into this form, or inherited something else’s legacy, this would not explain new inventions not being adapted as new ponies are born and invent new things. Which suggests a magical cause, something so strong as to affect the minds of everypony, subtle and insidious, all across Equestria at the same time. It does not prevent me from seeing it, now that I know what to look for, but prevents the thought from naturally coming to my mind, some kind of all-consuming cognitive blight. I don’t know of any spells as strong and complex as that would require, not by a long shot, but I must at least accept the possibility they might exist. But this spell would have to affect our imaginations, uninterrupted, for centuries on end. Since time immemorial. It scares me. Who could possibly cast such a spell?! Are they still around? Why would anypony do something like that? Were they even a pony? Argh, I can’t take it anymore! “Twilight, why exactly are you banging your head on the ground?” a voice said somewhere behind me. Mary. “Ponies are starting to stare at you.” “I can’t think of a way of testing my hypothesis, so I’m shaking my brain around, hoping an idea rolled behind an ear,” I replied. “It’s not helping.” “Oh?” she said, crouching next to me on the grass and looking at the encyclopedia I was still reading. It was open on the section describing farm tools. “Well, let’s hear the hypothesis then, maybe I can help.” “I’ve been thinking about your sandwich problem,” I told her. “Your encyclopedias describe many tools we also use, and many of them have a known history here. You were right about some of them being imports. The modern door lock and its accompanying round handle were invented by Iron Pin a hundred years ago – Iron Pin was a minotaur locksmith from Manehattan. The lyre was invented by griffons, they used animal guts for string back then. But the first violin was made in Cloudsdale, and had silver strings! Musicians still make the bows from their own tail hair! Most of the Canterlot Philarmonic Orchestra members are earth ponies! The only explanation I can think of would be magic, which is merely the least absurd explanation I have!” “It doesn’t sound particularly absurd to me. Equestria isn’t called ‘the magical land’ for nothing,” she commented, carefully settling to sit on the grass. Those legs of hers must be just as uncomfortable to have in Ponyville as they’re painful to watch… huh? “Who calls it that?” I stared at her. “I have never heard Equestria called ‘the magical land.’ This is nonsense, every land has at least some magic.” Mary looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. “Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters, who ruled together…” she recited. “That’s how your story starts. Episode one, season one. Or rather, that’s how your mainline starts.” “You keep using that word,” I accused. I don’t think it means what I think it means. Mary shrugged, “It’s a Library term, I don’t entirely understand it myself. Stories within a tree tend to have a certain corpus of shared events. Rika tends to explain the difference between mainline and local events in crazy terms, which I am sure she actually misuses, like ‘commit history.’ In most trees, the version of a story with the highest print run in other stories is the mainline.” I felt a deep emotional dread at that last remark. “How does a story get multiple versions in one world, anyway?” I asked. I just had to confirm. Mary’s response was so dispassionate, that it made me sure she not merely expected the question, but actually practiced for it. “Book version, movie adaptation, other media, derivative stories…” “What kind of derivative stories?” I pressured. “Ever heard of fan fiction?” Mary replied, finally confirming my suspicions. Oh horsefeathers… No, I’m leaving all the potential implications of this for later. I haven’t accepted her theory. There are no sound logical grounds on which I could accept it, just like I can’t dismiss it, therefore, I don’t have to think about it. There have to be other interpretations of available data. Ones that don’t make us horrible ponies just because we think. Mental note: Burn all my Daring Do fics just in case. “How does your story start, then?” Just trying to take my mind off it. “With a foreword from the editor,” Mary replied, and quoted, “History typically presents events from an abstract, objective point of view, which does not belong to anyone in particular, and therefore, does not actually exist…” She glanced at me, waiting for my reaction, but I had none to offer. I’m not sure what kind of a story starts like that. After a slightly strained pause she smiled at me. “I’d rather not recite the whole thing, my story is an incessant stream of footnotes for a story about other people. But speaking of points of view… From a human point of view, Equestria has a very good claim to the title of ‘the magical land.’” Back to the matter at hoof, right. “That’s the problem. There is no doubt a magic cause is possible, that’s not the absurd thing. The absurd thing is that no such magic exists. Even if it did, it would have to stay in effect for millennia and affect all of Equestria, and hide to remain undetected,” I sighed. “I can’t imagine anypony actually casting something so complex, except maybe Princess Celestia. But that’s the thing about the princess, nopony really knows the limits of her magic. So if you’re up to thinking she’s responsible, you might as well blame her for your every breath and stop wondering. That would be a… an un-theory,” I said, dropping my head back onto the encyclopedia. “What about Discord?” Mary inquired. I carefully peeled myself off the book to stare at her. “Seriously?! ‘Discord Law,’ just like that?” Mary just raised her eyebrows back at me. “Do the words ‘Discord’ and ‘law’ even belong on the same page?” Oh, right, she wouldn’t know. I sighed. “For a time, every puzzle in ancient history and many problems of physics were explained away by saying that Discord made it so. They actually believed he took over the entire Equestria and screwed up time itself. That’s been so discredited, it’s something of an academic joke now, the ‘Discord Law.’ Whoever invokes Discord first, loses the argument.” “But I thought that’s exactly what Princess Celestia told you when she summoned you six to Canterlot,” Mary pointed out. “‘Ruled Equestria in an eternal state of unrest,’ if my memory serves me right.” I imagine it was easy to misinterpret something like that when taken out of context… “She was talking to all of us, and I was the only one who had any prior knowledge of the subject, she couldn’t really go into detail. And I think she suspected he was listening.” “So what did happen?” Mary pressed. “He would flood a polis with custard and toy with the ponies until the Princesses came to fight him,” I explained. “Then he would taunt them, retreat, and attack another one. It wasn’t even a war, more of a monster rampage, and it only lasted a few months. Few places got permanently damaged, but he left a lasting memory everywhere. He’s just a very powerful chaos magic user of unknown origin, with delusions of grandeur and a really nasty personality.” Chaos magic is the one type of magic I still can’t wrap my head around, but I know it’s magic, even if I can’t replicate it. Mary looked at me suspiciously. “So essentially, Discord never even mattered.” “Oh, his influence was actually quite significant,” I said. “Custard destroyed lots of priceless books and documents, so in a way, he is responsible for making a mess out of history.” No more than ponies are, but I think I’m not telling her that. “But chaos magic has limits, which have been studied much better since, even if it is mostly theory. And in the case of sandwiches, being a statue kind of gives him an alibi.” “I wonder,” Mary commented, “how is it that Nightmare Moon was an old pony’s tale, and Princess Luna was forgotten entirely, if you knew this much about Discord?” Sometimes, talking to an alien feels like I got voted in to present a class project. One that the entire Equestria was supposed to participate in, but didn’t. “Blaming things on Discord got so bad, that Princess Celestia had to set the record straight just to avoid being worshiped together with him.” “Well, let us consider the remaining possibilities,” Mary said, tossing her head back and staring up into the clouds. “Does any magic comparable in scale exist?” “Power requirements for the celestial motion spells are actually lower than what a mind-altering spell like that would need, and they are the most powerful spells in common use,” I stated. “Without the Princesses, you need a whole conclave to cast them, and the casters still risk permanent burnout. Even these spells aren’t anywhere as complex as this would be. Minds are a difficult thing to influence,” I said flatly, dropping my face onto the book again. I know exactly how difficult and how easy it is to screw up even on a small scale, don’t remind me. “So we can establish that there are no spellcasters capable of such effects. But pegasi flight is magical in nature, and as far as I know, they don’t cast spells to perform it,” Mary ventured. I looked up at Mary, and found her intently staring at my face. “Actually… The Elements of Harmony are the most powerful magical objects known, and they are not, strictly speaking, a spell, or even an enchantment. Even the act of using them itself is not really a spell,” I replied. “Don’t they come from some sort of one-of-a-kind magical tree?” Mary asked uncertainly. Where did she hear that? Even I have never heard about such a tree. Her knowledge of Equestria is very spotty, I remember how she wasn’t sure that we have a banking system, and wondered if we have a city called “Stalliongrad.” What a silly name… But at times this knowledge is uncannily deep. Is this really how a work of fiction presents a world? I suppose it has to… Fairytale characters don’t poop. And while I would have no problem assuming they do visit the bathroom somewhere between pages if they’re ponies, if they were humans, basic necessities of life, like sanitation facilities, would be really difficult to imagine for me if Mary’s encyclopedia did not have a page devoted to this very subject. I would have the same problem with lots of everyday things, from toothbrushes to train fare. That has to be the real reason she didn’t want to stay in the library with me, or live in town. These little things can cause no end of embarrassment, so she is trying to limit the points of contact to what she is confident about before she can know more. I guess I shouldn’t try to invite her for a slumber party anytime soon… if they even have the concept. Shame. I wonder what kind of ghost stories would she tell. Or how would she take to Truth or Dare. “I don’t actually know where they came from, but there’s no claim they are actually artificial. It is possible they’re a natural magic,” I finally said. “Well, that’s some progress at least, isn’t it,” Mary smiled. “So, can we assume, that this hypothetical spell effect is a natural magical effect, or the effect of a natural magical object?” We sure can. And it would explain a lot, too. Far from everything, but a lot. Of course, it would raise even more questions, but at least this sounds like something I can research. I was about to say that, but something stopped me. That something was the sight of the most bizarre procession I’ve seen since the parasprite infestation: Pinkie, wearing a construction helmet with a blinking warning light, backing up along the street and guiding Big Macintosh with a gigantic cake precariously balanced on his back. They were being assisted by Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, tugging the cake back and forth with ropes and trying desperately to keep it upright, which was presumably the silliest solution Pinkie could come up with. The ensemble was completed by Mrs. and Mr. Cake, with the latter actually fainting every few steps as the cake took one dangerous dip to the side after another, and Applejack, watching them all with a worried expression on her face from a position outside the projected cake splash radius. The helmet was par for the course for Pinkie, and I did know the Cakes were planning an entry into that confectionery competition for months, but together, it still looked ridiculous beyond words and even beyond laughter. “Twilight? Can I see you a second?” Pinkie yelled across the street. “Oh, and hi Mary! Do you like the Marzipan Mascarpone Meringue Madness? It’s Mr. Cake’s entry for the National Desert Competition! The most fantabulous cake EVER!” “Looks delicious!” Mary shouted back. “Looks like your friends need help,” she added quietly, and cautiously patted me on the back. “I have a hunch they won’t make it without you.” I yelled back at Pinkie, “Just a moment,” and gave Mary a suspicious glance. “A hunch? That fiction of yours covered what to me is future, didn’t it. You’re still an extreme historian, even without your time machine. You can’t help it. I know I couldn’t, if I were you. Just how much of my future do you know?” “Possible future,” Mary said, raising a finger. “I do know of a few things which are likely to happen, and we can talk about them later if you want. But I can’t for the life of me remember what exactly happens to that cake in the end.” “Twilight!” Applejack yelled, as Big Mac stumbled again and the cake took another dip, to the sound of gnashing teeth of my pegasi friends. “I don’t need any foreknowledge to say, that if you don’t go, it will end in tears right now,” Mary commented. Well, if nothing else, it would be a welcome distraction from banging my head on the ground. “Coming!” I shouted, stuffing the book into my saddlebag, and got up to trot towards the cake. They really should have planned this whole cake business more thoroughly, or at least asked me for advice. Transporting the kitchen supplies and prepared ingredients to Canterlot and baking it on site would be so much easier… I know Mrs. Cake’s babies are due soon, so Mr. Cake not wanting to leave her alone is understandable, but I still think he should have trusted Pinkie with assembling the cake from separately packaged tiers. I maintain that all the ponies in this town are crazy. All my friends especially so.