Waking Life

by FullMetalFurbee

A Lively Vagabond

Big Mac peeked around the corner. A solitary figure paced from side to side in the alley, illuminated by several portable lights on the ground. He wore a dingy hoodie and his tail was clipped excessively short. Cans of spray paint littered the ground. The figure picked up a can and traced artistic patterns onto the now colorful wall of a nondescript building. The entire canvas was splashed with vibrant colors in an almost hallucinogenic decal. In the very center of the sprawling mural were the words “Nice Baculum” in dripping purple letters. As the vandal finished the newest layer of whorls and outlines, he retreated a few steps and observed his work critically. Satisfied, he turned around and caught Mac staring.

“Oh! A visitor!” said the vandal. The voice was soft and feminine. The now apparent female pulled down her hood to reveal a friendly face. She was a bright-eyed zebra, no older than Mac himself. Bulky hoop earrings hung from her ears, and a smoldering cigarette rested inertly on her lip.

“What's your name, visitor?” she asked politely.

“Big Macintosh,” said Big Mac.

“Hi Big Macintosh. I'm Mythic Valve.” She extended her hoof, which Mac shook. “I'm an runic engineer from Canterlot, specializing in hydro-dynamics. The line of work is very complex. I love my job, but it gets boring sometimes. I want to live my life authentically. That's what existentialism is all about – living life with authenticity.”

“Eeyup,” agreed Mac.

“I'm sorry about vandalizing that building,” she said while pointing to her work. “I know it's illegal and all. I just felt so inspired today! Today was a really good day, and I wanted to encapsulate my positive feelings. It's ultra important to assign meaning to things that deserve it. In fact, that's the only thing that's important. Life is, by default, meaningless. It's up to us to inject it with significance. That's why I spray painted the wall. The context of our actions is completely irrelevant, as long as we act with conviction.” She raised her hoof up as a rebellious symbol. “Conviction is our fuel and authenticity is our goal!”

A smile formed on Mac's lips. He nodded in agreement.

“I know what you're thinking now,” said Mythic. “What if I believe in God? Or any god? I don't think religion and existentialism are incompatible. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think they compliment each other. Belief in a divine retribution can easily be used as a template to guide your life. Why not act authentically toward the end result of earning a seat in Heaven? Or, reincarnation, or whatever you want to believe in. Life here would still be meaningless because you'd only strive for ascension. Personally, I think it's selfish to expect my own messiah. I want to find my own path to Zion, you know?”

“Not really.”

She took a drag of her cigarette. “This moment, right now, is where we live. All life is this - this moment. Later is later. There's a quote from a song I like that fits what I'm trying to say. 'This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality. Embrace this moment, remember we are eternal; all this pain is an illusion.' I don't know, I just really identify with that. Death is always hovering over us, creeping in our shadows. Whether you're scared of it or not, whether there's something after it or not, we all have to live. You've seen the ones who don't. They're husks of souls. They're automata that wind themselves up in the morning. They skulk through the day without so much as a flicker of awareness. We're not like them, you and me. We absolutely must awaken from out dogmatic slumber and act. It's imperative! Wouldn't you agree?”

“I s'pose,” Mac said. He picked up a can of paint and inspected it. It was brand called Ubik, which he'd never seen before. “Haven't thought much about dyin'.”

Mythic got back to covering her wall in streaks of orange. “That's good! You shouldn't! It will captivate you, and eventually consume you. It's coming, but you should never let it dilute your living. This reminds me of another song I like.” She began to hum in a lively manner, and sung under her breath. “Death to everyone is gonna come, and it makes hosing much more fun.”

“Don't you mean everypony?” questioned Mac. Then, “What's hosing?”

Mythic turned toward him again. “It means sex, I think. Speaking of, you want to have sex with me? Right now?”

Mac felt his cheeks burn. “H- what-?”

“Just a question. It might be fun,” Mythic responded. “But more importantly, it'd be authentic. I won't be offended if you say no. Up to you.”

“Uh, I-” he choked.

“Relax. I wasn't trying to fluster you. Just trying to live by my own principles. All this talk of death got me inspired again. I don't fear death, but I dread it. Dread is inspiring, and shouldn't be used interchangeably with fear.”

Leaning against a wall, Mac slowly let his embarrassment ebb and resumed a normal body temperature.

Mythic sighed audibly. “There is one thing that I do fear, though. What happens when I stop being inspired? When I can no longer live authentically for whatever reason, what will be left for me? I'll become an automaton just like the ponies I'll despise. I'm pretty sure that at some point down the road, I'll have lived all that I can. This brings up the question - should I just say 'so long, and thanks for all the fish?' Just quit while I'm ahead and join the afterlife early? It's a very legitimate question. Existentialists, and nihilists too, toss this thought around indefinitely. Behind the veil of action, it's the only question that matters. If life cannot have meaning, why is ending it early such a despicable concept? Honestly. It's not selfish. The ponies who call self-termination selfish are fucking idiots. For many, it's simply the last step in the great checklist of life, like remembering to turn out the lights. It's not cowardly either. Maybe it really is the only option for some? I don't know. Who the hell are we to say otherwise? Ponies call me disturbed and irresponsible for even considering it, but quite candidly, it's the most responsible thing I've ever thought about.”

Big Mac said nothing.

Mythic looked at him and frowned. “Don't give me that look. I'm not advocating anything here. I know I'm overgeneralizing a critically serious subject, but somepony has to in order to grapple life's toughest questions. Look, I don't want anypony to suffer. I'm not heartless. Don't misconstrue my message. A lot of ponies can be, and are saved by the compassion and empathy of real individuals who love them. Positive impacts produce unfathomably greater effects on us than negative ones do. Love is overwhelmingly authentic. True friendship is pretty authentic too. Acting viscerally is grade A life-living. That's where the doctrine of nihilism fails. A nihilist will tell you that everything is absurd. Our world is so irrational that you should just off yourself immediately. But he's wrong! There's beauty in the dissonance! We create the beauty and we enjoy it together! Like my art here. To some, it's just a pattern of lines and colors. But we can see it as beautiful! At least I can, and I hope you can too, Macintosh.”

“I can,” Mac confirmed softly. “It's is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” said Mythic. She tossed her cigarette on the ground, approached Mac, and tenderly kissed his cheek. “Now go home. It's getting late and I have a lot more buildings to cover by morning.”

“Okay.” Mac set the can of spray paint down softly and looked at the cryptic zebra.

“Remember,” said Mythic. “Be real. Live authentically.”

“Alright,” promised Mac. “I'll try.”

The two went their separate ways. As Mac walked back through the alley to his cart, he heard a lively hum and the pressurized whoosh of spray paint.

Comments

[defunct321]

The ponies who call self-termination selfish are fucking idiots. For many, it's simply the last step in the great checklist of life, like remembering to turn out the lights.

Well, it could be considered selfish because while life could have no purpose for you, your life could still have purpose for others. Keeping to the metaphor, it'd be like turning off the lights when someone else is still in the room. I'm not sure if that made sense, it did in my head.

[Anmynous]

4416273
Well yes, but they'd be in a pitch black room so you wouldn't have to see them...
Anyway, I'd say the problem isn't that it's inaccurate, it's just not going to be very helpful. Someone at that point either doesn't really care about anything anymore, or is already very "low" and calling them bad things won't help.

[defunct321]

4418928 I'm not saying that calling them selfish would help convince them to not commit suicide, but that they are not objectively unselfish for committing suicide, like it was said in the chapter.

[Anmynous]

4419382
Alright