■□ The Mare Who Looked For More □■
Scootaloo blinked, and the scene was gone.
In the moments of light and sound, between the cracks of realities, things came and went, riding in on fleeting thoughts and disappearing when was most appropriate, leaving nothing but the single memories that stood testament to their existence.
When the moment is gone, all that is ever left are memories.
The Owner walked back to the counter, now clean, now clear, everything back to normal, as normal would have it.
Scootaloo followed behind the stallion, frowning with a tinge of guilt, its source a slight ponderance.
“You look concerned,” The Owner observed.
“I feel concerned,” Scootaloo replied.
“Over what you just saw?”
“Maybe more about what I haven’t.”
“And what haven’t you seen?”
Scootaloo settled atop a stool, taking a sip of the water that was always there when she needed it.
After a moment more, she replied.
“I haven’t seen her for a while, now. Twist, I mean. It’s been a few years. I wonder how she’s getting on? Good job, though, by the looks of it.”
“A job she had only in that moment, and a few other moments aside.”
“So what about the real one?” Scootaloo looked up, toward The Owner.
The Owner stared back.
“Can’t say, huh. Is there even a ‘real’ one in the first place?”
“Yes. Yes there is.”
“But how can there be? I just saw a whole bunch of different characters. They must exist somewhere, even though they’re not mine.”
“No, you’re thinking dimensionally again.” The Owner nodded. “You are the singular and real, as are all the ones you know. Have no worries about that. The Prism values individuality. To dilute yo–”
“The Prism?” Scootaloo cut in.
The Owner switched over without so much as a break. “They are currently those who are in charge.”
“In charge of…”
“Everything.”
“And you?” Scootaloo pointed.
“I am one of their harbingers.”
The pegasus drummed her hoof on the countertop.
“I have questions,” she said.
“And I answer what I can. You need not preface.”
“Well, I have questions that you go all quiet to.”
“Then I believe I shall go quiet aga–”
“How long have I been here?” Scootaloo rapped once upon the wood.
“Two weeks or not at all.”
“I think I deserve some answers.”
The Owner fell silent again, but it was a different silence this time around. It was a silence of thought, the kind one takes before delivering a reply of weight.
“I suppose it would be… alright, as faulty as your logic is. The delivery of your plea, however, has evoked an emotional response. You give me no choice but to sway in your favour.”
“Hey.” Scootaloo frowned. “What do you mean ‘faulty logic’?”
“Well, I do not believe that you’ve performed any sort of activity that would warrant ‘deserving some answers’.”
“I’ve put up with your coffee for two weeks.”
“What’s wrong with the coffee?”
“I like soda! Why isn’t there any soda in here?”
“Because this is a coffee house.”
“You know what? Let’s start there.” Scootaloo prodded at the air. “What’s your deal with coffee, anyway? The only time I ever see you annoyed or even the slightest bit upset is when someone comes in here and doesn’t want a coffee.”
“It’s… what’s expected of me.”
“Well, you’re in charge of this place, aren’t you? And you always have whatever anyone wants in the end, anyway, so why put up all that fuss?”
“Because it’s what’s expected of me.”
“And you can’t do anything else?”
“No.”
“Wait, what?” Scootaloo narrowed her eyes. “Explain.”
“I am whatever it is that is expected. Nothing more, nothing less. You walk into a cafe expecting a waiter of some kind, so that is how I appear to you. Others expect things differently, so what I am, and what I can provide, is entirely up to their whims.”
“Wait, you’re saying that you only look the way you look because I expect it?”
“Yes.”
“And the reason why you get huffy over coffee and act all snobbish about it is because that’s expected of a coffee shop owner?”
“Yes. That is the gist of it.”
“Well, where’s my soda, then? I expect soda!”
“No. You don’t. You hope for soda. You expect coffee. I’m afraid they’re a little bit different. You had sandwiches last night because you believe that cafes should provide food of some kind. It’s probably a good thing that you do. But unfortunately, the existence of a light, bubbling, frothy ginger-based beverage is not within your world outlook for an establishment of this sort.”
“So you… can only do things and look… how you look to different ponies based on how they believe the world works?”
“You’d find that most things in this world follow that rule.”
Scootaloo rubbed her chin. “So… what happens if someone who did believe in soda came in here, ordered one, and I took it from them?”
“That would be theft, I do think.”
“Yes, but I’d get the soda?”
“Yes.”
“That is so… absolutely complicated.” Scootaloo declared.
“That is why I do not attempt to explain things much,” The Owner said.
“Okay,” Scootaloo wagged her hoof at The Owner. “So… you look different to everyone.”
“Yes.”
“To me, you’re a stallion. Have you ever been a mare?”
“I’m sure I have.”
“It’s not definite?”
“I do not get to choose what I look like to others. As always, it is a result of expectations.”
Scootaloo smiled a bit. “That’s kinda cool, though. You guys could be anywhere. You’d just blend in. Like some sort of social chameleon.”
The Owner smiled back, but not with his eyes.
“Uh…” Scootaloo continued. “So… do you have, like, an original form or something?”
“Yes. But only to myself. When I look in a mirror. It is the last gift – a reminder of who I was. I do not have an identity to any others. Only what others need.”
“Huh,” Scootaloo muttered. “That’s… a bit sad, isn’t it?”
“It is the sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice.”
“You recall earlier, I mentioned that The Prism values individuality above all. In order to preserve it, we who work for The Prism have to give up our own.”
“So this Prism thing…”
Scootaloo cut herself off. The look on The Owner’s face told her that it was pointless to continue down this line of questioning.
“Alright, then. I got one for you.” Scootaloo went on. “If you look different to everyone else, then wouldn’t it be incredibly troublesome for you if someone had to describe you, and you had two different fellas giving two different accounts?”
“Well, that usually rarely happens, but if they do, things adjust.”
“In what way?”
“Well, expectations can be subverted. If there were two who were looking upon me, and one of them said suddenly, ‘I like his vest’, then I would be wearing a vest, and would always have been wearing a vest. Expectations turn into suspicion, and suspicions are validated when I prove them true. In essence, I validate myself.”
“But that… how can that possibly work? Expectations don’t change depending on what anyone says.”
“Doesn’t it? Have you never been overly excited to watch a movie, and then have that excitement altered by a great number of your trusted friends telling you that it was bad?”
“Well, sure, but… when I actually watch the movie, I still accept it for what it is.”
“Yes, exactly. All you have, after all these influences pile on top of your own expectations, is the end result. Not many are privy to how you would have experienced it otherwise. It is the same as me. I am the end result of expectations being altered by influence.
“And even in the case that I have already been seen before, as you are well aware, experiences can change over time and with additional information. There surely have been times where you read something or watched something which you didn’t understand, but with a new approach, found that you loved it?
“It works the same for me. Except far more quickly.” The Owner concluded.
“Alright… alright. I’ll buy that. But… but! What about…” Scootaloo tapped the counter furiously once more.
“Are you so determined to find a scenario in which this system would not be able to work?”
“C’mon! Lemmie ask a question, alright? This is pretty interesting stuff!”
“Very well.”
“What if… you had two ponies who saw you, then both later, apart from each other, described you. Both accounts would be different!”
“They wouldn’t be able to.”
“What do you mean they wouldn’t be able to?”
The Owner tilted his head. “Well, describe me.”
“Describe you?”
“Yes. Go ahead. Look at me, and remember what you see.”
Scootaloo gave him her best casual glance.
“Now, close your eyes,” The Owner said.
“Alright.” Scootaloo did so.
“Now, describe me.”
“Ahh…” Scootaloo muttered.
“What’s my mane colour?”
“Umm…”
“Is it short or long?”
“I don’t... “
“And my coat? What colour is that?”
“Coat? Well, surely…”
“Cutie mark?”
“I didn’t even realise you had one.”
“Am I male or female?”
“You’re…”
“What is the one thing you remember about me?” The Owner asked.
Scootaloo’s eyes flicked open. Suddenly, he was there again, as he had always been. How silly of her to have forgotten. He was the same as she remembered.
“Your glasses,” she pointed out. “I remember your glasses.”
“Yes. These glasses are not real, and the only real thing about me.” The Owner took them off his face, tilting it upwards. They were thin-rimmed, circular, and cast in silver. A simple pair of glasses for a simple stallion.
“What do you mean?”
“They are an item through which I see the world. Your world. Without them, I would not be able to work. They are the only thing that is a constant, and therefore the only thing you can remember.”
“Huh.”
“And going on further, we tend to have no reason to be remembered in the first place. We are thoroughly forgettable, and it always works better this way. Through a series of cosmic laws and safeguards, we have managed to survive for a very… very long time. And the only times we have been known are the times in which we have chosen to divulge ourselves. For example, to you.”
“Well, don’t I feel special?”
“Yes. You should.”
“And what if you had to be part of a place where glasses weren’t…”
“I have contacts.”
“Ah.”
Scootaloo bubbled back into her seat, sinking down, mind churning. A variety of expressions came and went before she finally lurched forward, a playful grin etched upon her face.
“So…”
“Yes.”
“You only do things that others expect of you.”
“We have determined this, yes.”
“But now I know that you do things that only others expect of you.”
“Yes, you do.”
“And I also know that expectations can be changed depending on influences.”
The Owner nodded.
“So,” Scootaloo’s eyes roamed as she put it together. “I now know that you can give me a soda as long as I expect that you can. And I also know that this expectation can be altered by new information that I currently have.”
“Oh?” The Owner raised his eyebrows.
“Which means that I can now expect to get a soda based solely on the knowledge that I can get one as long as I expect that you can give me one, which I do.”
“Yes, it does seem sound.”
“It validates itself.”
“Yes, it does.” The Owner said, placing a bottle of ginger ale on the counter. “Very good.”
Scootaloo smiled, grabbing for the cold, frosty refreshment. “Thanks. But there’s a lot more that I wanna know.”
“And in time, perhaps, you shall.” The Owner said, looking up as the lights dimmed. “But for now, you must prepare. We are ready for another experience.”
“Hey, as long as you keep these coming.” Scootaloo lifted her bottle. “I’ll be ready for anything.”
“I certainly hope you will,” said The Owner, turning to the door.
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These chapters are sketchier than Akumogetsu's blog posts.
I love that self validation thing.
Yus, loving this. The Owner is exactly what I had hoped.
Good chapter, as always.
Keep 'em coming.
This is neat :D
Well played, Scoot.
Cuing Tom x Boulder conversation in 3 … 2 … 1 …
5667546
*steals idea*
"So, if I know you can change and be able to do something if I expect it, and I can expect anything you can do, that means I could effectively ask for anything and you'd do so? Any request would simply become possible when I ask for it, since I expect you to do what I expect so long as you can, and what you can is what I expect."
"Yes."
Scenario 1:
"So, what's The Prism?"
Scenario 2:
"I expect you to be blind. I expect those that are blind to not wear glasses or contacts, or any other form of eyewear."
Scenario 3:
"Show me that first experience. You do, after all, not care that it belongs to another/believe it belongs to me, right?"
So, does this Prism's control over The Owner supersede his nature? Or did they create a rule specifically for this massive loophole? If so, I 'expect' Scootaloo to ask about such a thing after trying something like this. It'd be interesting to know how much control over reality The Prism has.
5671944
Thank you for your insights!
Actually, a few of your questions WILL be answered in due time. The next Scootaloo chapter will touch on a few other ideas, such as the nature of the alternate 'realities', and a general idea of what the Prism is, and rest assured some questions will be answered eventually.
I did not intend to really go into the specifics of this mythology too closely; I believe that some things are best left mysteries. But I do have a sort of idea in mind when I write, and just to answer your specific question, it's less about the Prism and more about the fact that The Owner still has some degree of control over his own actions. He won't do anything that he doesn't actually already want to do, loophole or not. The loophole only allows the aware to be able to expect things. It doesn't mean that those things will definitely happen. The expectation opens up possibility, but doesn't make possibilities actualities. In other words, The Owner still can say 'no' to anything Scootaloo requests, even though she can expect something to happen or not.
As for the glasses, since the glasses are the one grounded thing, it overrides expectations by being an actuality. Actual things always has a bit more sway over what we see than perception. This is why perception can sometimes change reality, but reality always destroys perception. =)
Finally, as seen in an earlier chapter, The Owner is able to alter perceptions and realities directly so should he choose. Remember how Scootaloo was drawn to the cafe in the first place? He has the ability to do that as well. While he doesn't abuse it, it's often times easier to allow for social chameleon-ism than controlling the perceptions of everyone in his midst.
So yeah, there's plenty of back-ups. =)
I don't have the proper words to describe this 'Stephen King' conversation, but I did have a cup of strong coffee while I was reading it. Fitting, I believe.
Scootaloo, stop trying to break the frame of reference you're current stuck inside of. Ginger Ale is good, but I'm not sure if it's that good.
Impressed, as always. I swear, not only do you get me thinking with each word, but my urge for a nice, warm cup of coffee grows with every chapter. I do have an idea, just for characters, not for the situation. I can't help but wonder what would happen if Celestia or Chrysalis ended up in The Cafe, be it at the same time, different times, etc, etc. Then again, Boulder and Tom are obviously much more important.
5786056
Ah, please do excuse me for earlier! I must have misunderstood your comment. =) I took it to mean that that chapter was too thick and it was harder to get around. Which, as I mentioned, I would completely understand! But I'm glad that you're enjoying it. It's always makes me happy to know that I've been able to entertain and make people think. That's all I want.
Unfortunately, we're headed into the final stretch of this series, and most of the final chapters have been panned out (including the two guest chapters for the final four, which have already been written). Given this, I will give your suggestion some consideration, but I cannot guarantee anything. I will, though, say the idea of having Queen Chrysalis in there might be rather interesting indeed.
I'll think about it.
Oh my. I was reading along, expecting some sort of unifying background story while enjoying the little character vignettes, and then... this.
A thoughtful, thought-provoking, erudite and smile-inducing chapter that (like the rest) assumes the readers are intelligent, creative, and curious... like Scootaloo, at least as she appears here. Not that she's not so elsewhere, mind you, but I am restricting my analysis to this particular incarnation.
All that and a potentially ominous exit line. Huzzah for an excellent story that definitely makes me want more!
Light and laughter,
SongCoyote
5657801
you mean this won't be an open ended project?
Also, the Owner reminds me of a much more benevolent version of Celestia 's parents in a Pearple Prose Twilestia story I read. I know he has a guest chapter a little later