Waking Life

by FullMetalFurbee

A Grimy Earth Pony

Granny Smith trotted into the living room where Big Macintosh was napping. She nudged him softly and said, “Wake up, deary. I need ya to take a cart of apples into town and sell 'em.”

The slumbering stallion awoke and eyed his grandmother suspiciously.

Granny reiterated herself. “I said I need ya to sell some apples in town.”

Mac nodded groggily and stood, joints popping as he did. Granny exited the room and he followed her out into the yard. A sturdy cart chock full of apples sat waiting to be transported. Mac hitched himself in with Granny's aid, and walked off the farm at a leisurely pace. There was no sign of his sisters anywhere. They were likely out back in the orchard.

Not long after the farmhouse disappeared behind him, Big Mac's thoughts began to wander. After all, his only company was the creaking cart and the resident birds' harmonious songs. Lazy Sunday afternoons were a superb time for meditation and personal reflection.

The bushes to his left rustled. Mac halted and glanced at the agitated, rather discordant shrubbery. Out of the blue, another earth pony slowly emerged onto the path. He was beyond dirty and scratched up from time spent in the woods. Mac figured he must have been there for several days. He sure smelled like it.

“Relax pal,” the pony said. “I ain't gonna hurt you. Name's Donnie.”

Mac furrowed his brow. “That a pony name?”

“It's my name,” said Donnie. “It fits me just fine. Hasn't caused me much trouble, so I figure it's worth keeping.”

Mac shrugged and resumed tugging the cart. Donnie trotted alongside him and sized his cargo up.

“Say friend, spare an apple? I'm just heading down the road a bit. Been on vacation a while.”

Big Mac stretched behind him and plucked an apple from the top of the pile. He handed it to Donnie who graciously wolfed it down.

“Thanks a million! Haven't eaten in a couple weeks. Mother nature can be a bitch, you know?”

“Eeyup,” Mac agreed.

Donnie wiped the apple juice off his lips and shook his hoof. “Anyway, where you heading, stranger?”

Mac swatted a mosquito away from his face. “To town. Sellin' apples.”

Donnie sported a sheepish grin. “Town, eh? Ponyville I presume. I've never been myself, but I hear it's the premier place to be in terms of cultural refinement and stuff.”

Mac wrinkled his nose. How could he not have been there? It was only a mile away.

Donnie reached up and extracted another apple from the cart. He ravenously bit into it and said through a full mouth, “Bet you ain't selling these because you want to, are you?”

Big Mac thought for a second. “Eh.”

“Well, I don't think you are. In fact, I don't think any of us are.” He quickened his pace so he could turn around and look Mac in the eye. He trotted backwards as he spoke. “I don't believe in any of that free will mumbo jumbo. There's just no room for it in contemporary philosophy, you know?”

Mac nodded.

“The proof of free will leaves a lot to be desired, if there's any proof at all,” Donnie went on. “The way I see it, the universe is a lot more deterministic than that. Take you for example. You're taking your cart of apples to town. It feels like you're acting on your own accord, right?”

Mac stopped, picked up a piece of straw, and stuck it in his mouth. “Eeyup.”

They continued their journey.

“Well,” explained Donnie, “you're not. At least I highly doubt it. The real popular theory lately says that there are an infinite amount of prior causes that determine your actions, stretching all the way back to the moment the universe was created. Whether that be a god, or an accidental collision of atoms, or a llama pissing on a block of sodium. That's how I think the universe was created. The point is, you can claim an infinite regression of causes and events to explain deterministic theory. That's all well and good. The soundness of the claim is another can of worms altogether. I'm interested in right now, this very moment. Every movement I make, everything I say, is caused by something that potentially happened millions of years ago. Every glorious moment of pony history, every war and every breath has intertwined into the glorious crescendo of the words coming out of my mouth. Same goes for you. Following me?”

Mac blinked and nodded.

“The whole world is spinning inside us, and we're guiding it. Don't you see? Our actions now are just perpetuating the great unbreakable thread of continuity. We're cogs in a machine. It just so happens that we have a very minute sliver of choice. Even though your actions are determined, you can still pick which ones to take. For example, stop.”

Mac slowed and stopped walking. He looked at Donnie quizzically.

“See?” said Donnie. “You didn't have to stop walking. It doesn't matter though. Our margin of variance is totally unimportant. If you walk, it's determined. If you stop, it's determined. Leads a pony to feel trapped, you know? It's kind of maddening to think about. A fake freedom in a sense. I guess the universe is a bitch too. C'mon.”

The duo started up again.

“I don't buy into determinism,” Donnie said after a minute. “I'm more of a fatalist. That's the only theory that I can handle. Fatalism is a lot more structured and airtight. No room for any freedom whatsoever. It's almost paradoxical, kind of. I don't know. Maybe.”

“What's fatalism?” Big Mac asked.

Donnie lifted his hoof up like a teacher giving a lecture. “I can best explain it to you using an example. Based on the undisputed tenets of fatalism, everything that will happen is set. It is either true or false that you will perform an action or behave a certain way. You will either take your apples to town, or you wont. There is no earthly way to change that fact. It doesn't matter whether it's true or false, because it's always one of them. There is no feasible way to stray from our paths because anything we do is what was originally supposed to happen. See what I'm saying?”

“Kinda.”

The tips of Ponyville's rooftops scratched the horizon. Mac smiled upon seeing his favorite town.

Donnie cleared his throat. “Yeah so, in summation, I lean towards fatalism. However, that isn't precisely what I believe. This brings me to my last point.” He deviated from the dirt path onto an idyllic patch of grass with an old stone well sprouting up. “Even if we don't have free will,” he said, “it still feels like we do. Remember when I said that earlier? That's a uniquely sapient quality. Even if you and me were fated to have this talk and couldn't have avoided it, it still feels like we had a choice. Right?”

“Eeyup,” Mac agreed.

Donnie sat down on the lip of the well. He crossed his legs and rubbed his hooves together idly. “They're so crazy, our minds. We can be manipulated into believing we're free moral agents that act outside the boundaries of dogma. Yet, to say that we are is almost foolish. I can shuck your skull open and poke around your brain. I can press certain spots, and make you move the way I want you to. Yet, you'll believe wholeheartedly that your actions are your own. You're a puppet to your brain and the universe alike.”

Mac scratched his chin and contemplated the idea. Meanwhile, Donnie hefted himself up and positioned his body over the well. He lowered himself in a bit, hanging his hooves over the side to keep himself from falling.

“Wanna hear the epiphany that I've come to realize after all my years in solitude?” Donnie asked.

Mac could tell he was eager to share, so he politely agreed. “Eeyup.”

“Get this. This is crazy,” said Donnie. He was brimming with anticipation for the big reveal. “Ready? Who cares!? Who cares if we don't have free will!? As long as we don't think about it, and we feel like we do, what more could you ask for? It's not like we live our lives under the iron hoof of philosophical oppression. At least most of us don't, anyway. Don't you see? It doesn't even matter! There's no point wasting your brainpower thinking about it!”

“I guess?” Mac said in confusion.

“What more could you ask for than to feel free?” Donnie cried. He began to laugh.

Mac unhitched himself and started trotting towards the perturbed pony.

“Honestly, friend,” Donnie breathed through raucous cackles, “what more could you ask for?”

Without another word, he let go of the well and let himself plummet. Mac shouted and galloped over to the well. He leaned over the side and called Donnie's name, but received no feedback. After a minute of silence, Mac retreated from the well. He shivered and hitched himself back up to the cart. He didn't want to just leave, but there was nothing to be done. As he slowly marched the last leg of the journey into town, he heard a howling laugh from the bottom of the well.

Comments

[SP00KY NINJA-PON3]

I like your Profile pic! I'm a big Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door fan.

SEATBELTS EVERYONE!!!

[FullMetalFurbee]

4400005 Admiral Bobbery is best princess.

[SP00KY NINJA-PON3]

4400025 Peach is best pirate.

[defunct321]

You know, I'm more or less the same as Donnie I feel. Up until that suicide part, that was a pretty jarring change from me knowing exactly where the guy's coming from to him doing something I get shudders thinking about.

[flame5768]

4401633 not suicide. he laughed. he knew he wouldn't die.