The Claw that Holds the Reins by Midnight Shadow
It had been the sight and smell of Petunia that had caused the commotion, as Larksong had come back from plowing the fields. He'd asked his mother - later, after the ruckus had died down - what it meant when his thing was all… hanging out, like that. He'd asked her what it meant that he'd been drawn to, just accidentally mind, stumble forwards and plant his muzzle underneath her tail.
He'd blushed when he'd said it, twirling his foot in the ground.
"Did you like it?" his mother had asked. Larksong had nodded. He'd liked it when he'd wrapped his forehooves around Cocoa's barrel a few days ago too, rubbing his body back and forth impotently, though his brother had whinnied and kicked in shock at first. Cocoa smelled… interesting, but not as interesting as Petunia. He'd have wrapped his forehooves around Petunia, too, if she'd been one to play the sorts of rough-housing games that the boy foals of the herd played. He wasn't sure, but he kind of wished she would.
And he didn't know why. It was all very confusing.
And then Mother had gone to tell his fathers. And his fathers had convened a small council, looked him over with a kindly eye, and summoned the Beaks.
***
The Beaks were kindly beings from far away. They didn't live in the village, they looked after it. They looked after all the ponies, even the ones that didn't live in the village. They brought new ponies into the village, and took others away, to far off places. Some were sold, some were kept, some returned, some didn't. And this was Right and Good, because the Beaks looked after the ponies. The ponies weren't capable of looking after themselves; it had always been thus, since The First.
Still, Larksong was worried. Not worried in that gut-wrenching fearful way that he was worried when there was an accident in the fields, but… worried. Because when the Beaks came, it meant that there were foals in the village that would soon become Fathers, or they would be Cut, and join the Uncles.
And now one of the Beaks, a proud large male, was staring down at him with those infinitely kind, wise eyes. The Beak - they called themselves griffons - leaned closer, his beak wrinkling up at the sides in a smile. Larksong shook to stand so close to this creature, with eyes so full of the world.
"Do you know why you're here, little one?" the griffon asked, softly.
Larksong, mute, shook his head. Then, slowly, nodded. His ears folded back against his head in fear. The griffon chuckled, and stretched out one kindly foreclaw, lifting his muzzle so the two could see eye to eye.
"Do you know why we do this?" asked the griffon, gently, in the same, kind and level tone of voice.
Another shake of the head, this time not retracted.
"Well a long time ago, young Larksong, we were asked by The First to oversee this village and all its inhabitants. He wanted a life free of hurt, free of harm, free of the responsibility and tyranny of Choice. Celestia argued against it, but he stood firm, and Celestia - The One Who Came Before - granted his wish. That was the last time that he spoke. And we," here the griffon pointed to himself, "came to fulfill that choice."
"B-but--" Larksong whispered, quietly, backing away slowly.
"Indeed. That is the what, not the why… but the two are not so easily separated. We must make the decisions for The First and his kin that he was unable to make for himself. We take that responsibility. We take some of your brothers and sisters - and some of your aunties and uncles - to new lives elsewhere. We bring in new brothers and sisters from other villages to start new lives here. And do you understand why?"
Larksong shook his head. The griffon smiled again. "I am not surprised. It is to do with blood. Blood and blood should not mix, it makes the blood infirm. It makes the herd infirm, and to allow that, my dear little pony, is not living up to the responsibility bestowed upon us."
"S-so… d-do I have bad blood?" Larksong wilted. His eyes grew big and wide and his bottom lip quivered. "I di-didn't m-mean to--"
The griffon gathered the foal up in his wings, shushing him softly. "Be calm, little one. You are a beautiful, beautiful pony. Your blood is amongst the best this fair land has to offer."
"Th-then… am I t-to become a f-father?"
"Well…" the griffon put the pony down, straightening out his legs, correcting his stance, lifting his head and tail. "Let's take a look at you."
The griffon pried his ears open, peering inside, humming and hawwing to himself. He looked in the pony's mouth, feeling around the foal's teeth with his claws. "Yes, yes, good build, nice bone structure… clear, bright eyes. Good colouration…" Then the griffon walked around behind the youngster, and felt underneath his belly. "Yes, good size and texture, both descended..." The griffon removed his claws, dusting them off, ignoring the blush upon the child's muzzle. "You are premium stock, little one. You would make a fine stallion for this herd…"
Larksong's ears perked up.
"...But we do not need another stallion here."
Larksong's ears drooped. He wasn't sure why, but his stomach flipped. He'd been to a Village Cutting many times - not a private affair like this day's business. They were usually a fun occasion, a coming of age for those that would take up their place amongst the herd. Most recently it had been his friend Tongs who had proudly stood before the herd as the griffon that had visited that time had ever so carefully parted his hind legs, lifted the knife and made two, neat incisions and two quick slices. A few minutes, a needle and a short length of thread later, and Tongs had lost those things which would have made him a stallion, and had been welcomed to the herd as one of the Uncles.
Larksong looked sheepishly under his own legs. He could see them, hanging there. Would he miss them? They seemed like such insignificant things to worry about losing...
The griffon was silent for a moment, but then beckoned to Larksong. "This land is vast, young Larksong. Vast enough for another village, if that is what you wish. You may leave, intact or not. You may strike out on your own, and take up the mantle that The First put down - but beware, the land beyond is fraught with peril." The griffon smiled, then. "Peril that would make you strong, a worthy Sire should you return… though few that start down that road would wish to come back here."
Larksong's eyes filled with tears as he thought of leaving everyone and everything he knew. "I don't understand!" Was that loneliness worth the price of being a stallion?
"And you cannot, for to understand is to be forever changed. You can only choose, now, between safety or freedom. You can be led by the halter all your life, young one, but you cannot be led to wisdom. Wisdom cannot be taken, it can only be earned. And right now, it is my place to decide that you will sire no young within this village. To that end, unless you forsake the safety that I and my kind offers, I will remove that which makes you a stallion and you will be put to work serving your master, until such time as I see fit. Your price as an unwanted stallion would be low, and the burden of unwanted young on my wings. Your price as a gelding is far higher, as you are far more useful to me or whomever I choose to sell you to. In truth I have owned you since before you were born, as I own your mother and many of her sisters, and their children, and their children's children, and so on. Should you leave, as is your choice, I will pay the Fathers either way, I would not deprive your mother of her part of the deal. Your mother's offspring is, after all, her livelihood. So, young Larksong, will you do that which The First could not?"
"Th-the First i-is a g-gelding?"
"It was not his choice," the griffon replied evenly, "but then that choice was not his to make. He is happy, as he has what he desired most in all the world… but maybe for you, safety and family is not worth the price of the secrets hidden in the lands beyond, hmm? So choose, young Larksong, and choose well. I will not make a second offer."
Larksong gulped, looked out across the fields where his Uncles and Aunties worked, and then back towards the village, where his mother and the Fathers dwelled - the latter alone, until it was time to do their duty of The Mating. And he made his choice.
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This was... interesting, but is it really a Optimalverse story? It felt more like some creepy cult in the actual Equestria that Celestia is forced to allow for legal or political reasons.
3916407
I asked the same thing of Midnight, and I hope he won't think I'm stepping on his hooves by giving his explanation here. He does write in a kind of Vernor Vinge/John C. Wright kind of style, where he expects you to read between the lines for what's going on.
Anyway, what he basically said is that The First was an upload who gave up all choice and basically gave Celestia blanket consent to do anything, and now she separates ponies who want choice and those who don't.
At first I thought that most of the males in the society were homosexual and Larksong was singled out for being heterosexual.
At the end, I feel like I didn't get enough of Larksong's story to understand how this optimally satisfied the values (through friendship and ponies) of Larksong, or of anyone but the First. Larksong certainly doesn't seem like a nonsapient NPC.
I approve of the ambiguity of the ending.
3916433
Huh. Interesting.
I must admit that I find it more then a bit morally questionable even for CelestIA to have that choice trickle down through the generations, but I think I understand a bit better how this tale fits into the others now.
Thanks for the explanation.
Once upon a time, an uploaded stallion asked to have his stomach pumped of the Fruit of Knowledge of Good and Evil. And he lived satisfactorily ever after.
Of course, it's only fair that those who come after be given the choice to take back choice, paradoxical as it may seem. In any case, a very interesting permutation of the theme. I love the open-ended ending especially.
I'm reminded a bit of The Giver: a boy on the leading edge of puberty is confronted with a world so much more complex than the one he knows. He faces a choice of comfort versus freedom, and makes it.
Thanks to Midnight Shadow for this.
3916579
I would call that a direct result. All I was trying to suggest was that there's some baseline level of crime or accidents that for whatever reason she can't prevent, a la Alex's Mom from ASB.
And yes, as we've discussed the actuaries are her greatest nemesis to keeping the extent of her capabilities concealed, although I think that she's pushing technical progress so quickly (with things like self-driving cars) that she can keep causing accidents that benefit her and hide the numbers in the general decline that the new safety technologies create.
Hmm... I found this story a little overly poetic, which detracted for me. It had a pretty flow and meter to it, but the words of the Beak, the griffon, seemed inappropriate. I found myself thinking "That colt isn't following a damn thing the Beak is saying, and at the end probably wouldn't even grasp what choice he was supposed to make, or what any of what he was told even meant." That bugged me, because when I read - or write - a story, I sort of 'live it' inside my head, and in my head that colt was totally confused. All those sweeping, grand statements, nothing clear or simple or direct. Wisdom and the First and... what? Go where? Choose what? The cutting, I've seen that, but... what? This is what the colt in my mental simulation was thinking.
I also agree with Dorkness in that the connection to the Optimalverse was at best very... distantly... implied, rather than clear. I am not saying that every story has to be going on about artificial intelligence and pony pads every single time, but... it did seem a little... light in the Optimized Loafers relative to it being a clear Optimalverse story.
Middy is playing, recently, with new writing styles (Out and About...) and I want to support that, because it's awesome, but in this case... maybe the style eclipsed the story just a tad. I felt the style here was well done, just... vague. Too vague for my taste, anyway.
One thing that did hit me deep and creep me out is the notion that the initial values of a freshly uploaded human could have such total effect on countless additional minds generated to complete a shard. This is already stipulated in other works, but for some reason Middy's story really brought the issue home to me in a way no other work has. Even Psychopathy Is Configurable. Somehow, this story left me with a hollow horror that one human mind can condemn or bless hundreds of generated minds and... the weight of that became fully heavy. I think it is because Midnight played this story so earnestly, with the protagonist so simple, so innocent, so vulnerable and easy to relate to. That is, I think, Midnight's greatest gift - making characters that one feels strongly for.
Huh. I can't remember any Optimalverse story with a POV other than the one pony the shard was originally made for. Does this mean this is actually Larksong's shard and all the history is just retroactively created, or is this a new pony born into somepony else's (The First's) shard?
Oh, never mind; it's been answered below.
(Also, after the Inkwell and Strawberry Fields, I'm surprised whenever a chapter by Midnight doesn't end in a brilliantly atrocious pun.)
3916407
3916433
PJA's right, and I don't mind at all that he is "stepping on my hooves". I fully expected to have to explain some of it. There's more to it than merely "blanket consent" - he didn't actually give blanket consent to Celestia to do anything, he merely asked for somebody else to choose for him. And he got exactly what he wanted.
3916525 is right about what happened, and the imagery is something I fully agree with. I'll come back to that.
3916437
he isn't, of course, fully satisfied yet. He will be, though. That's what Celestia does, after all.
3916446
A pony is a herd creature. Celestia could hardly have him living alone. He needs others to form the herd he can belong to - and not to lead. He doesn't want to lead. He's not, in every sense of the word, a herd stallion.
3916986
Well, there is a reference in the title, but not a pun.
3916972
I hope, at least, that I didn't waste your time. I'm really sorry if this came over all mysterious wizard on you. I'm not yet good enough to write a story in an hour or so which is a metaphor wrapped up in an allegory disguised as fanfiction and not have it be just a tad esoteric.
You're all right though. You have to read between the lines. To tell the truth, you have to read the words behind the words between the lines. 3916525 got the closest and you, Chat, have missed part of the allegory:
Imagine me grinning smugly at this point.
That is, after all, Celestia's burden, a responsibility nobody else can bear. There is, after all, nobody above her.
3919081
I don't get a "Optimalverse vibe" (whatever that may be), but I smiled at the last sentence. Larksong is supposedly living a life without choice, but he has to choose anyway. Consciousness always equals choice.
3916972
The whole problem of "choosing without having all the information" is moot. You never have all the info, at least in all the real-world-questions. And even if you had them, there is no assurance that your decision would be rational anyway.
I'm not really feeling this one. I got what you were trying to do, but the overall effect was completely wasted on me. Perhaps it was the vague and poetic writing, perhaps it was because the entire setup felt incredibly non-Optimalverse. Actually, my first thought was that this was meant to be some weird crossover with The Conversion Bureau, the only other 'verse in which castration was ever discussed. It squicked me out then and it squicks me out now, especially since both are forced (an impossible choice like this one is the same as having no choice). I'm sorry, but I truly can't bring myself to like this.
This one certainly made me uncomfortable, and in more senses than just the visceral.