Cuts Too Deeply

by scifipony

The Filly with the Golden Scissor

Apple Bloom and I sat on a bench, long after the train from Hooflyn had chugged away. We shared caramel corn from a bag from the depot concession and a bottle of root beer. I could tell that she thought I was worried. Her enthusiasm had sobered from her jumping and initial hug, to a glance at my golden scissor cutie mark, to her quietly offering to get us a snack and saying little more as we crunched in companionable silence.

Truth of it was, I wasn't worried. I was sick. "I think I got the wrong cutie mark."

Apple Bloom coughed out some kernels, but managed to say, "Sweetie Belle thought with all your fiddling with your hair, it had ta be a hairdressing cutie mark. What with you not answering our letter, I figured that weren't it."

The brown glass bottle made a hollow sound as I pushed it around on the bench, not looking at her. "I gotta unicorn's cutie mark."

I could hear the laughter backing up in her muzzle and trying to escape as a snort. She eventually took deep breaths until the fit passed.

I looked into her orange eyes. "Seriously. I'm probably adopted, not that I could ask for a better mom, dad, or big sis. Some unicorns are born without a horn but still have magic, and sometimes Earth pony strength. They're called epiequines."

"There's a big word."

"Trust me, I've read about it; it means 'both horses'. Beats earticorn, a bad word from when they didn't treat it scientific-like and tried to change a pony to physically match their type."

"But you got Apple family freckles—right thar on your cheeks!"

"There's plenty of fillies and colts with freckles in the borough. Doesn't mean I'm not adopted."

Apple Bloom met my gaze. I looked away, remembering how badly I hurt her and her friends by bullying them. But then they'd gone and helped me, made me proud of myself regardless of being a blank flank. I sighed. "I'm here because of the letter you sent me describing your nightmare about getting the wrong cutie mark. I'm sure mine's some sort of nightmare, too."

"Don't know about you, but I'm awake now." She grinned as if she meant it as some sorta joke.

I hadn't. "I could wake up from it, if I chose— You're still taking lessons from Princess Twilight? I so think your cutie mark will be that apple potion beaker you described."

"Uh-huh." She took a sip from the bottle and wiggled her nose from the bubbles. "Waking up from a nightmare? Maybe you need to talk to Applejack. She can set anythin' straight. And this unicorn thing? And adopted? Have ya talked to your big sister?"

I shook my head. "It would only scare her. It certainly would Mom. And I don't wanna really be told I'm adopted, even if I'm sure I am. It'd make it too real."

"I'm scared for you, Babs. If you're wanting to know about my nightmare, it was just me making myself crazy, worryin' myself to de-straction that I might get the wrong cutie mark. Sounds like you're making yourself crazy, too, for no good reason. This unicorn thing…"

I looked around. The wood plank platform lay empty. The other side of the tracks led into bushes and trees. I glanced around. At the ticket window, a stallion with a trimmed beard put a clock sign up and pulled down a red roller shade. A bird sung, but I heard nopony else. I ate a few bites of popcorn, not sure of myself even after all the thinking I had done about the difference between bad dreams and what had happened to me. I felt a breeze muss my bangs, which I had to blow out of my eyes. It felt like sharing a secret, and as it approached my lips, my heart started racing. Now or never.

My jaw worked. I shut it. Opened it. Then, "Look at this."

I concentrated, closing my eyes tightly. It was like a geometry problem in a school book, putting together the proof, making it all logical, and plugging in the numbers. I'd never been good at arithmetic, and I'd envied unicorns for all their mathematical prowess, but then suddenly two months ago numbers started making sense, had rock-solid meaning where they'd previously always been slippery slimy fish swimming through my thoughts.

A spinning ethereal sphere materialized out of the numbers in my mind, a purplish time axis stuck through its poles. I turned my hoof upward and added the numbers necessary to translate the sphere's position from the inside of my skull. An insubstantial crystal ball the size of a jawbreaker candy separated from my forehead and glided to hover above my clod-hopper horseshoe.

Apple Bloom jumped up and gasped, hooves clattering on the wood bench. She looked at the crystal, looked at me, then looked at the crystal. Inside I could see a foggy scene of her and me on the bench, a split-open red-striped bag of popcorn before us, and an empty root beer bottle. In it, my eyes were closed, concentrating as I had been a moment ago.

"Well, that's certainly magical. What is it?" She waved a hoof through it, but it might as well have been a ghost.

"It's a bead on the thread of time."

"What can you do with it?"

"If I stop thinking about it, it will eventually fade away."

"Or…?"

I stood and took a deep breath, then started walking toward Sweet Apple Acres. By the time I had walked down the stairs, Apple Bloom had trashed the rest of our snack and trotted beside me on the dirt path. I had put the bead away. I saw the new friendship castle looming over the town of Ponyville. I changed directions toward it and proceeded to tell her what had happened.

I had gotten my cutie mark sitting in a geometry class. Think about how embarrassing it would be, looking reading a book and having an epiphany of mathematics, only to have your biggest bully, a black-maned colt with a racetrack cutie mark say, "Whoa! Babcock! How lame is scissors?"

Though I didn't grasp the significance of the moment until much later, beyond my cutie mark appearing, I would never forget the instant the numbers started making sense for me. I might never forget, because if I closed my eyes I still had the bead—my first bead—showing me, in class, staring at my geometry text.

It was few weeks later—with a growing pile of exams and homework marked 100—that I learned the truth about my cutie mark.

My borough in Hooflyn isn't all smiles and friendship like Ponyville, and that isn't just because of the toughs that roam the streets and alleyways. A blank flank as old as me didn't have many friends, and I didn't make any after the event, either, because I hadn't been able to explain what my cutie mark meant. Most days, I navigated the congested streets and the subways alone. You had to watch yourself for some pony drivers would just assume run you over as spit at you.

That day, I had been crossing Colonel Purple Dart Square park, a block-size lawn with benches and a goldfish pond, sandwiched between four streets of traffic. Office ponies and mares with strollers trotted the sidewalks and visited hay fry carts. I noticed one taxi weaving through traffic, honking his horn. I'd been beeped just minutes before. Set on edge, my heart beating rapidly, I found some calm in calculating angles in the park as I watched the miscreant dodge recklessly.

The taxi turned a corner against a light. The greasy-maned beige pony clipped a moving van pulled by a team of four. That broke his harness. He fell aside as his cab skidded, hit a curb, flipped, and went careening along the sidewalk, smashing carts and sending broken ponies and prams into the air.

Like that. Three seconds; over. Then crying. Shouting. Screaming. A pair of coppers galloped up a minute later to give first aid. Soon after came the wail of ambulances.

I stood there, frozen, so shocked that when a pink mare stopped to ask if I were okay, I couldn't answer and she eventually walked away, shaking her head.

That's when I noticed a bead in my head and floated it out to see it with my real eyes. In it, I saw the image of a yellow and black-checked wagon weaving by trollies and around carts, and oblivious ponies walking by the storefronts full of clothes and appliances, all of it on the opposite side of the park from the carnage about to occur.

The scene was from a minute before.

I instantly hated what I saw, and I hated myself. Intuition had said something bad was about to happen, and I had done nothing.

I would never forget the wet broken sounds of ponies being struck, nor their screams. Not ever.

I wished it never happened.

That was the first time I cut a bead from the thread of time. It exploded in a flash of vapor.

I found myself transposed half-way back along the diagonal path that wove through the park. Returned were the sounds of the traffic and the ponies shouting and talking over it, the foals playing, and food sellers hawking their street delicacies.

I looked. The disaster had disappeared; everything back as it was.

Shocked, I turned and found the same mad cabby rushing maniacally through traffic—and found myself running the numbers again through my head while trying to fathom it all…

"No, no, no!" I shouted. I found myself trotting, then galloping as the stallion dashed madly down the cross street. I made it to the corner, screaming, "Run, run! There's going to be an accident!"

Well, everybody was paying attention. They stared at me.

I didn't see it, but I heard the collision. I heard the thud of ponies bashing into one another. Whinnies. Wood splintering. A hardness ripping loose. Steel rimmed wheels hitting a curb. Before me, ponies scattered from the food carts and dashed away reflexively.

I saw a shadow pass over me.

I woke in an ambulance, my hips and legs numb, the rest of me in such pain I could not help but cringe. I saw rows of medicines, and a bag of liquid and a tube I guess went into me, but I couldn't move to see; I was strapped down. A yellow unicorn with a shaved mane, wearing a blue uniform, held on to a rail as the wagon bumped and bounded. He smiled, "You're some kinda hero, little filly!"

I levitated out the bead. It showed the park, me staring at the food vendors, and the cab still racing.

The paramedic yelled to the driver, "Walking Tall! She's a unicorn and she's lost her horn—"

I snipped the thread. It flashed and I found myself in the park.

It took five more tries before I could save the people in the park and the four stallions pulling the moving van, and save myself. The cabby, though—

Apple Bloom trotted in front of me, stopping me. She hugged me, crying. "Do you know what you did, Babs?" I felt her tears on my neck. I blew my bangs out of my eyes and looked up at the looming blue crystalline castle, it's prismatic spire throwing rainbow light upon us.

"Yeah," I said, "I let the cabby die. I couldn't save him. Then I didn't want to save him."

"No. Why… you saved dozens of ponies!"

"Less than that, but the same difference. I let the cabbie die. Don't you get it? I might've saved him, too, but I stopped caring." I brought out two beads, of about twenty I kept track of. One was the last bead from the park. The other was me in geometry class, just before the epiphany. I made a cutting motion above the latter bead. "One snip and I begin again. I wake from the nightmare."

Apple Bloom released her hug and stepped back, seeing the beads. She blinked at them, then shook her head. "No, Babs. You'll still remember."

"It's like you with the twittermites destroying the farm, or your family disowning you. You remember the nightmare, but at least your flank is blank. I'll shut my geometry book and gallop from the room. I'll never look a number in the face again. Maybe I'll get even a better cutie mark, next time."

"But, but, but it is a good one. No, it's a great one... You're a hero!"

Hero. It is a word that cuts too deeply into your soul. Apple Bloom just didn't get it. I said, "Not really, if you were listening to me."

"I was. The cabby; I got it; okay? Did you talk to your mother about it? Your big sister?"

I shook my head. "After the last bead, I ran while everypony looked at the crash. Nobody really saw what I did, dodging out of traffic and changing the collision so it stayed in the street. I might've even been blamed for the accident, had I stayed. Nobody'd believe me, no way."

Apple Bloom looked at the beads, then into my eyes. "Don't go doing nothing stupid, now, but keep those out." She circled around me, lowered her head, and butted me in the flank, pushing me forward.

"Hey!"

"Move along, now. I think you need to talk to Twilight right now. Our newly minted princess is pretty darn smart. She was the worst kind of book nerd, but she had to save ponies and Equestria, heck, I don't know how many times! She talks about it sometimes during Twilight Time. It was not easy on her, neither, let me tell you. Not easy at all. I'll bet she can help you make the right decision."

I found myself blinking rapidly. It wasn't tears, really; it was the thought that I wasn't alone. I felt warm all over. Apple Bloom had said I would get the help I needed to make my own decision—from somepony who had had to make the decisions I had made, herself. It was the missing piece I'd come here to find, that piece that might separate the nightmare from reality.

Maybe I could do this.

Nevertheless, I levitated out a new sphere. It showed double-negative speaking Apple Bloom looking into my eyes, telling me "don't go doing nothing stupid", caring for her cousin even though she probably wasn't a blood relation. It had the friendship castle for a backdrop.

The beauty of the scene gave me hope that I might one day cherish the bead for what I saw inside, not for what I could do with it with my special talent.

Author's Note:

Fittingly, this story came to me in a dream.

Comments

[JFalk]

Really interesting! Some "Early Edition" vibes from this.
I know that you put it as "complete", but would be interesting a sequel where Babs is helped to deal with her new power.

[scifipony]

6244704
I appreciate the reference and consider it a complement. That show and this story both have that Theodore Sturgeon vibe.

Babs turned out be a wonderful reluctant hero. (She wrote herself.) Her strong moral compass and her potential to mess-up badly makes a sequel tempting. Such things await epiphanies, however.

[Enduring Man-Child]

Wow...that is really creative. It came in a dream, you say? Whoa.

Um...the scissors represented cutting the beads, I assume?

[scifipony]

6246026
The thread of time is the one thing she can cut. I didn't know until she told me. Strange, huh?

[StormyVenture]

6246060
Maybe I misunderstand, but her ability sounds complicated. She can't change anything, except perhaps what happens in a very short window of time and then only if she knows what needs to happen to change what happened (or rather will happen). Depending on it's range of effect, she'll always have to make her decision alone without the assistance of an observer.

[scifipony]

6249545
This a valid critique:

She can't change anything, except perhaps what happens in a very short window of time and then only if she knows what needs to happen to change what happened (or rather will happen). Depending on it's range of effect, she'll always have to make her decision alone without the assistance of an observer.

Please help by pointing to a paragraph or two that led you to draw your conclusion. If I left something more vague than I intended, I'd really like to fix it.

Below is a spoilery answer to StormVenture's question:
She can only add a bead to her strand on the thread of time for a specific time while she's living it. If she cuts the thread of time, she goes back to the last bead cut off and loses later ones. She always has complete free will. That the beads are on a strand is implied.

[StormyVenture]

6249787
The example she gives with the 'cabbie' suggests that that whole line of events was destined in some sense. She couldn't go back and prevent him from existing or even from driving crazily down the street, but she had a chance to change what other ponies did and thereby was able to change time/fate whatever such that only he died. It also appeared that she could only go back to being on the path. I guess it's partially unclear whether it's an active ability that she must select points in time or if it's just passive and she can just change events within a window around the present. A fair question is are there different universes/timelines here (as opposed to just one) and how much power does she really have?

I think your spoilery answer needs an explanatory diagram. :P

[scifipony]

6249959
Thank you for the concise analysis. One of the best things you can give an author is an idea of what a reader got from what her or she wrote. Again, thanks!

I think your spoilery answer needs an explanatory diagram. :P

<grin>

(Yes, I'm being vague. You're welcome to chat when you find me online, if you want more meta information!)

[oddhack]

This has potential for being the Worst Cutie Mark Ever. An ethical pony might decide she is obligated to keep backtracking to fix everything major that goes wrong that she can potentially affect, no matter the consequences to her own life.

[scifipony]

6251909
Worse, what if you don't? With great power comes great responsibility. You got Bab's conflict in one try.

[StormyVenture]

6252105
Yeah. Nothing like watching bad things happen, all the while knowing you could have done something, but never knowing if it would be enough to matter. Why the spoiler?

[Fluttercheer]

Wow, that is an amazing and extremely unique idea again!
Babs' special talent being the ability to cut through time, by creating spheres that show the past and popping them to travel back in time to the moment they show..... This is the creativity I come for in this fandom and exactly what I would expect from a professional author who has published a book already!
But, as good as the basic idea is, it's right at the beginning of it that the execution fails. You describe Babs as a unicorn who was born without a horn, but, a horn is what makes a unicorn, a unicorn. If a unicorn gets born without a horn, then it isn't a unicorn, as the horn is what gives the unicorn the ability to use magic and thus, what is defining a unicorn. This is where the reasoning for Babs being able to do that falls flat.
But, with a little tweak, you could still save the whole idea and give it a better background:

Instead of Babs being a "unicorn born without a horn", make her a unicorn whose horn grows into the inside of her skull, instead of to the outside. That way, the whole idea can still work.

[scifipony]

6290895
Thank you for the critique.

I am breaking my critique rule of "only say thank you" by addressing the unicorn issue. Forgive me; I mean no disrespect if you should perceive any in what follows. I consider your point of view valid and appreciate the insight it provided.

I erred expecting the reader to know something I should not have expected them to know. In Sisters in All but Blood, I have Twilight refer to Moon Dancer by the nickname Lunettes, french for glasses, alluding to the clunky black things MD wears; this, without explaining it. In this story, I use the word earticorn, which is a reference to the word hermaphrodite. A preferred PC word for hermaphrodite is episexual, thus I also used epiequine in the story. Because I didn't emphasize that Babcock Apple is actually both unicorn and Earth pony, the allusion misfired. You're probably not alone is missing it, though you get extra credit for bringing it to my attention. This is all to say... Cuts Too Deeply is an allegory.

Look for the word epieqine in the story to see my one line update.

[QuillStroke1]

I liked the story! There were many great immersive details that really made the story, at least for me. The concept was also interesting and dynamic, and made for great emotional conflict. However, the bully seemed like mere filler here. Maybe try to have him interact with Babs during the memory, prompting her to somehow discover her talent. That's just me, though. I loved this story and wish you luck, my good sir!

@QuillStroke

[NIchtraucher]

Wow, that gets kinda close to Groundhog Day or Edge of Tomorrow. With the significant difference that Babs literally does save states as I do in games. But in a game I don't have a moral responsibility or lives basically depending on it.

6251909

This has potential for being the Worst Cutie Mark Ever.

^ That.
A power like that would be the worst, for me at least.
The problem would not be "When do you use it?" but rather "When do you stop using it?".
At what point can you say in good conscience that "I did the best I could" or at least "good enough"?
When can you consider an event as "done" or "over"? Imagine in 5 years Babs learns a way to stop a cab with just a thought (this is a thought experiment). Should she go back and stop the accident entirely? Or is it simply time-barred?
Or even worse: in 5 years her bully from school becomes a murderer and the only time Babs has a chance to prevent him from going on that killing spree is to become his fillyfriend or hurt him permanently? Is she obligated to do so? Or if the only way to save a lot of ponies' lives is to kill one pony years before he/she did anything wrong (you know, kill Hitler)? What about property damage, is the best outcome that nobody got hurt? (Tell that to the guy who lost his home and job in a fire where Babs "only" saved his life.)
And how about super long times spans? 50 years later Babs learns a way to stop a war from happening. Is she obligated to basically live her life AGAIN to save thousands of ponies? How about hundreds? How about a dozen? What about just a single one? How about someone who just lost his livelihood and commited suicide later on because of that? And if you save him, do you save his neighbor who also lost everything but did not commit suicide? And if you save him, what about you help that guy who lost a Bit and became sad because he couldn't buy ice cream? Where is the threshold how far back you go for how significant a mishap is? (Oh, and travel from Ponyville to the Crystall Empire to pick up that Bit, will you? It's not like you don't have the time to do so.)

And all of these questions are moral questions for oneself.
That is assuming Babs kept that ability a secret. No pony asking her to save their foals' lives from an accident from a week ago.
No pony expecting every mishap to anypony around Babs to be "corrected" (aka to never happen in the first place from their point of view). Every small bad thing that happens to someone in her vicinity could be viewed as her deliberately NOT preventing it. Basically saying "you are not worth my effort" at best and "serves you right" at worst. Around her, nopony would be like "well, sh*t happens", everything is basically her fault by default. ANd she could have actually made that happen on purpose by manipulating the "past".
And even if she did her best to please everyone, nopony would believe she did. Nopony would thank her because nothing happend. Nopony would see what didn't happen, just what did. From their point of view, Babs just stopped them on the street saying "talk to me for like 5 seconds and I will have saved your life" or better yet "somepony elses life" - "in one hour". "It is better you get to late to your job than get on that bus, because you would overload it and cause it to have an accident and you would die."

Seriously, "potential for worst Cutie Mark" is an understatement.
That would be a terrifying ability to have yourself or to know someone else has it.

MfG NIchtraucher

[GleamingKyler111]

Welp, time to make a new library.