13. The Edge of the Knife
“It all just looks so… normal.”
They were sat around a table in Sugarcube Corner. It turned into a quiet place in the evenings; a couple of people were sitting at tables, reading newspapers or tapping away at laptops, and occasionally somebody would come in for a takeaway coffee.
Octavia cupped her head in her hands. “You know… I look around and it’s all just the same as it always was. People all around us are going to go to work and school tomorrow and have lives like they always have. Everything’s as it should be. And yet…”
At the back of the shop, Pinkie Pie tallied up the day’s takings. Meanwhile, Pinkie Pie wiped the tables. The other customers in the shop seemed not to care about the doubling, so neither did the girls.
“You don’t believe her?” asked Vinyl. She was slumped back in her seat, nursing a mug of steaming hot chocolate.
“I really don’t know what to believe any more. It’s all so unreal. One moment I’m doing something normal, like sitting or buying a drink, and I forget about the whole thing. Life is the same as it always was. Then the next moment I’ll remember it again. ‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten. None of this is real. Including me.’”
Trixie stayed quiet. She had both her feet up on the seat, hunched tight, and was resting her head on her knees. Her expression was sullen. A cup of tea sat forgotten on the table.
Vinyl watched them both reflectively. “It’s certainly not what we’d have thought. But what else could explain the things we’ve seen? The horizon, the dolls, the wings and stuff that the Rainbooms get, and the…” she indicated the pair of Pinkies.
“Trixie has no reason to trust her,” she said, speaking up for the first time. “She’s lied to us before. She could still be lying to us now.”
“It’s true, she could be,” agreed Vinyl. “And even if she’s telling the truth, it might not be the whole truth. She might be twisting it to get our cooperation. She still needs us to help with her plan, after all.”
“But even if that’s true,” said Octavia, “if she’s still at least telling us some of the truth, or a twisted version of the truth, in order to manipulate us, then it still means that…” She tailed off, unable to complete the thought.
“That we aren’t real,” said Trixie. The other two looked at her sharply, as if shocked she could say it out loud. “That we aren’t real people at all, just an echo of somebody else, made out of bits of other people’s memory. That everything we think ever happened to us was just made up to fill in the gaps, like an optical illusion.”
Octavia scrunched her nose up in distaste, sitting back in her seat. “There’s some other person out there called Octavia. She really is. She’s not pretending, and she’s not a copy of me – I’m a copy of her. She’s the reason I exist. She plays cello, so I play cello. She has grey hair, so I have grey hair. And… she doesn’t even know I’m here. I can’t even blame her for it. None of this is her fault.”
She looked up at the other two. “There’s another Vinyl Scratch and another Trixie Lulamoon out there. Other people as well. And they’re all…” She hesitated.
“Ponies,” completed Vinyl, sullenly.
They sat in silence for a while. Vinyl watched steam rise from her cup; Octavia watched condensation run down her glass; Trixie watched the street lights, filtered through the slats of the window shade, play across the table.
Octavia broke the silence again. “People always assume I must have pushy parents. Why else would a girl my age want to learn something difficult and old-fashioned like the cello, if they weren’t being pushed into it? But I chose to learn cello for myself. I went to see the Griffonstone Quartet play once, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. I wanted to do the same thing. I didn’t care that the cello was taller than I was, or how difficult it would be, or how much it would cost. So I saved up my allowance, looked for a teacher in the phone book, and wrote a letter of permission in my mother’s name. That first lesson went well, until the end when I tried to pay the teacher with a handful of little coins. I dropped half of them, and we both had to scramble around on the floor to pick them all up. He was angry, but I think he was also a little impressed. He talked to my parents the next day, and they agreed to make the lessons a real thing.”
Vinyl had heard the story before. At least, she had a memory of hearing it before. That wasn’t quite the same thing, and she wondered if she’d ever get used to that.
Octavia nudged the top of her glass, watching the liquid move. “I feel real. That memory feels real. It’s more than just information, made up to fill in a gap. It’s a part of who I am. It… makes me who I am today.”
Octavia glanced at the clock. “I should be going. Mum will be wondering where I am.”
“I’ll drop you at home,” said Vinyl, sliding out of her seat.
“Thanks.” Octavia picked up her bag.
“Hey, Trix, need a lift?”
Trixie said nothing, simply stared at the table.
“Beatrix Lulamoon!”
“Gah!” Trixie jerked, and nearly fell over. “What?” She looked more confused than alarmed.
“You need a lift home?”
She blinked, took stock for a moment, then shook her head. “No. Er. Thank you. Trixie will call for a lift.” She pulled out her phone, but paused. “Um…”
Vinyl paused to see what she would say.
“Trixie… is not sure if she still wants to go to the Gala. Since we have the answers now, Trixie doesn’t quite see the point. And… Chrysalis did say some of the people there would be… not exactly people, as such.”
Vinyl bit her lip. “I know. Honestly, I’m not so sure either.” She glanced at Octavia, who was standing behind her. “I think we’re all just tired now. I guess we’ll talk about it tomorrow?”
“Yes. Right.”
Vinyl hesitated. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.” Trixie bobbed her head towards the door. “Go. Both of you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She picked up her phone and started typing a message.
“Changelings. At least that’s the word others would use for us. Our own word is… hard to pronounce with this tongue.” Chrysalis rolled her face as if trying to do something for which she didn’t have the anatomy.
Outside, the sky was nearly dark save for muted gold streaks amid the clouds. The colours picked out warm highlights and deep shadows in the little courtyard. The people were starting to thin out, and the shops and cafés were beginning to close. Shards of light spilled into the shop, mingling with the humming electric lights.
The girls and Chrysalis sat on a cluster of chairs next to the shoes, surrounded by wedding gear.
“We are… how do I describe it… farmers of emotion. Through subtle and unseen ways we tend the collective soul of a community, solving disputes, encouraging cooperation, guiding other creatures towards enlightenment – if they’re willing to listen. Sometimes communities turn against us, resent our interference. They may even paint us as evil. It makes it easier for them to sleep at night, condemning what they don’t understand.”
“Wait here, I’ll just bring the car round.”
“All right.”
Leaving Octavia in front of Sugarcube Corner, Vinyl hurried down the road, passing people on the sidewalk. A pink-skinned woman with three-toned yellow, pink and purple hair, wearing a sharp business suit, walking together with a white-skinned man with two-toned blue hair wearing smart casual. They shared a quiet laugh at some private joke. Her personal mark looked to be a heart made of glass or crystal, which she wore as a lapel pin; his was a blue shield, embroidered into his shirt, with a purple star in the middle of it.
Were there counterparts to each of these two people out there? Originals, of which they were pale reflections? Did they have the same marks? Were their counterparts a couple as well? Did they even know each other?
As Vinyl reached the parking lot, her phone buzzed with a message.
From: Blueblood
can u do sat? if dj pon-3 cant ill get dj berry punch insted!
Sure, just swap me out for someone else, why don’t you? Never mind that Berryshine can’t hold a set for more than half an hour, especially on a Saturday. At least Sweetie Drops can match a crowd’s mood. Am I that easily replaced?
They’d gone to the wedding shop that night, she realised, hoping to dispel this lurking notion that their memories were fake, to find some loophole to expose the lie, so that they could reclaim their lives. Instead it had been confirmed, even worse than they’d feared. If Chrysalis was to be believed, they were all replicas of somebody else.
Some pony else.
Closing her eyes, Vinyl tried to imagine herself in the form of a small horse. The image was utterly comical. She shook her head.
Some pony version of Vinyl Scratch. Is she like me? Is she a DJ, or a musician, or a performer? Does she like the same music? Does the outside world even have DJs? Would she play a Saturday night set any differently? Is she a swap-in for me, or her own self? Am I not needed any more because she’s there?
And there’s another Octavia out there somewhere? A pony Octavia. How about another Trixie? Another Celestia and Luna? Another Pinkie Pie—
Bad example.
She looked at the phone in her hand as the glow shut itself off, leaving a dark rectangular afterimage.
When did I become jealous? Since when did I have to be the one and only?
She thought about the girls she worked with. Berryshine, DJ Berry Punch, who could take a cluster of different cliques and get them all laughing along together, defusing anger and bringing harmony to the dancefloor. Sweetie Drops, DJ Bon Bon, who could tailor her style to fit any situation, making every night personal. They all had their strengths, but none of them could work an entire night without crashing. They needed each other. Vinyl knew she had the talent to be a great DJ, but she’d be a fool to try and do it alone.
This isn’t a competition. ‘Ultimate Vinyl Scratch contest! The best Vinyl Scratch gets to be a real girl!’
Fluffle Puff walked in from the back room carrying a tray of cups, weaving between aisles of bridesmaids’ dresses. As she approached the girls, she stuck her tongue out at Chrysalis.
“So what’s… outside?” asked Octavia. “There is an outside, right?”
“There is.” Chrysalis nodded as she took a mug. A smile crept onto her face. “Outside of Tartarus is a world where magic is commonplace, inhabited by dragons, gryphons, ponies and untold other strange and wonderful creatures.”
Fluffle Puff swung her hips to gently bump the woman’s head out of the way; in retaliation she swung her head back up to push the girl’s backside away, a mischievous smile on her lips.
“Magical?” asked Octavia. “I mean, dragons sound magical. And gryphons are at least mythical. But ponies not so much, right?”
“Whether great or small, every living thing carries magic within it. Only here in Tartarus can you find a magical dead zone. A barren desert of the soul.”
Octavia stood outside and watched as Vinyl hurried to her car.
It was properly dark now, dusk having faded into evening. The light from Sugarcube Corner’s windows spilled past her onto the street. Street lights and shop windows lit the town, which was still busy. People hurried to and fro, engaged in whatever activities made sense for their own lives.
Immortals. Demons. Criminals. Dragons. Monsters. All the people going past looked ordinary, but any of them could be the creatures Chrysalis had described to them: ancient beings of power, imprisoned here to contain them. It seemed so ridiculous.
That woman with the flower necklace. Is she a demon? Or those guys in suits. Are they immortal? Or those girls with the swagger and the 80s hair. Do they have fearsome magic powers? Or Pinkie Pie, is she—
Bad example.
“Hey there, Mister Cerberuses!” called out the Pinkie Pie as she skipped past, waving at a group of men in suits. This one wore a striped pink, blue and yellow sundress under a short denim jacket, and long stockings. Octavia tried to work out which one she was, but she only had Vinyl’s description of them to go on.
“Miss Pie,” replied one of the men with a curt nod. The Pinkie walked past her into Sugarcube Corner to meet the others.
It seemed obvious to Octavia now, but everybody else still had a blind spot for the number of Pinkie Pies running around. At school she’d seen two Pinkies swap places in the middle of the conversation, one picking up seamlessly where the other had left off, and Rainbow Dash hadn’t even noticed.
What would it be like to forget? To go back to being blind to anything unusual? To blend back into the crowd and leave this whole unsettling situation behind? Is it even an option? Could we ever actually forget, or will this doubt be with us forever no matter what?”
She pulled one hand out of her coat pocket, suddenly aware of the feel of the fabric against her palm. Just a few days ago, her hands were touching the horizon. She’d felt that rough, deceptive, invisible, undeniable surface. She’d seen the world beyond it – what passed for a world. The shallow imitation, repetitive and unimaginative.
That lie surrounded the whole town. Travel far enough in any direction, and you would surely come up against it. Then you either accepted the lie, and passed right through it becoming nothing, or you called it out and were stopped short, trapped within it. That’s where they were now: they’d seen the lie so it no longer worked on them. If it did, they’d just drive through the horizon like anybody else. And then… just cease to be. Become part of the lie.
That could happen to us too, if we let it.
They might not disappear in quite the same way people who passed through the horizon did, but some form of oblivion awaited them. She could feel it wrapped around her soul as surely as it was wrapped around the town. If she surrendered to the lie, if she tried to go back to her life as if nothing was wrong, then in time she would fade away until she was little more than a facsimile of herself.
The memory of scrambling around on the floor for a handful of small coins fluttered through her mind. She still recalled the grain of the wooden chair legs, the smell of the carpet. The frustration of realising how stupid she’d been, mixed with the proud determination to shape her own life.
Whether it had ever actually happened or not, that memory was a part of her. She knew that saving her allowance to learn the cello hadn’t been the smart thing to do. It hadn’t been the easy thing. As a little girl she’d been laughably unaware of the scale of money or the years of work it would take to learn an instrument. But in her childish way she had striven for what she wanted and refused to accept the idea that she wasn’t supposed to.
I didn’t accept my limits then. I won’t accept them now.
“Friendship?” repeated Trixie, stunned.
“Friendship,” confirmed Chrysalis, with sarcastic sincerity. She took a sip from her mug as Fluffle Puff closed the door to the back room. “Put simply, you homunculi are here as an olive branch, to give immortal criminals like myself a chance of one day finding redemption through the simple act of making friends.”
Trixie leaned back against a shelf of variously coloured silk ribbons. “That’s… ridiculous!”
Trixie would have called her father for a lift, but she knew he had a big presentation to make in the morning. She didn’t want to disturb him, so she texted her mother instead, before settling down. Barely a minute later, her phone buzzed.
From: Pacific Glow
Be there in 10. Sit tight.
Of course, Mom’s too busy to come pick me up. As usual. I suppose it makes sense. I mean, it’s not like we’ve ever been close, not really. It’s just my imagination. Just these dumb memories tricking me into thinking we were.
Does Pacific Glow just answer Mom’s phone all the time now? That’s actually a little creepy. Why would she even be working this late?
Pinkie Pie – the one from behind the counter – came over and asked, “Hey Trixie, do you need anything else before we close?”
She shook her head. “No thank you. Trixie is good.”
Pinkie hesitated. “Are you sure? Cause you don’t look so good. In fact you’re all down in the dumps over here.”
“I… Trixie simply has a few things to think about, that is all.”
“Would a cupcake help you cheer up?”
She shook her head again. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a lift coming.”
“Oh, is your mom coming to pick you up?”
Trixie flinched. “Uh, actually…”
Pinkie’s hands flew to her mouth in exaggerated distress. “Oh no, I’ve put my hoof in it, haven’t I? I always manage to do that. I say stuff that makes people feel bad, then when I try to fix that I say more stuff that makes them feel even worse.”
Hoof?
“Hey, Pinkie,” asked Trixie. “What are you doing this Saturday?”
“Um…” Pinkie thought for a moment. “I’m going to a party. And I’m going to another party. And I’m watching the Wonderbolts. And I’m practicing with the Rainbooms. And I’m working here.” She counted the items out on her fingers.
“Wonderbolts? You mean the Wondercolts, don’t you?”
“Oh, that too!” She added another finger, from her other hand.
Trixie shook her head. “You certainly keep busy.”
“I sure do. There’s never enough of me to go around!”
“Is one of those parties the Grand Gathering Gala?”
“That’s right. How’d you know?” Pinkie’s face fell. “Oh, I don’t have any tickets to spare, if that’s what you’re hoping. Sorry! They’re really strict with them.”
“That’s all right, Trixie and her friends have tickets already.”
She cheered up. “That’s great! I’ll see you there. At least, I won’t, but one of me will.”
Huh. I guess I’m going, then.
She watched Pinkie bound away back to the counter.
Certainly that’s what Chrysalis wants. She still needs us for her plan to work. Once we showed her that we weren’t going to be manipulated into doing what she wanted, she quickly gave up and switched to getting our cooperation by answering all our questions. It was quite easy to get her talking, really.
A little too easy.
She stirred her tea idly.
I stopped thinking properly, earlier. It’s not like me. If I’d been more myself, I’d have asked her some incisive questions, like what she was really imprisoned for, and whether the people outside would be pleased to see her.
I was too busy trying to swallow some of the outrageous things she was telling us, about immortals and magic and myths and dimensions, to actually figure out what her angle was. She blindsided us with honesty. Blinded us with the truth.
How much of that lot really was true? And what did she leave out? It’d be weird of her to tell us such a tall tale like that if it wasn’t true, at least partly – you’d choose something more believable for that, surely? – but still, you can hide some subtle lies among the truth.
Especially if you’re practiced at lying – which she is.
Honesty isn’t in Chrysalis’ nature. When she needed us to play along, her first plan wasn’t to ask, it was to trick us into it. Even cornered like that, she’s going to try and twist an angle of some sort. Right now her goal is to get us to help her with the escape plan, but there could be layers of plan behind that.
And if we do it, then what? Do we go with her and see the outside world for ourselves? Or wave her off with a smile and go back to our lives?
Another Pinkie pushed the door open with a jangle of bells. Trixie looked up to watch the arrival deliver a high five to her two other selves on her way to the back room.
Vinyl will decide to go to the Gala. Whether she admits it or not, her curiosity will drive her. She was the first of us to touch the horizon, the first to see the Pinkie Pies. She skipped school for a week to follow a lead. She’s not going to back down now.
Octavia’s too proud not to go, now that she thinks she’s been challenged. However prim she acts, that girl has a competitive streak as wide as the West River. Plus she’s obsessed with the musicians and the whole fancy scene.
That just leaves me.
Chrysalis said it might be dangerous to go. She said there would be more… things like her there. More ‘immortals’, older and stronger and more dangerous than she is. But those two idiots are going to go anyway, with or without me.
A harsh beep from outside told her that Pacific Glow had arrived in the car.
Trixie sat in the back of the car, watching street lights rush past hypnotically.
From hearing her friends talk, it’s clear that Sunset is a ‘pony’. Whatever ponies really are, other than small horses. She doesn’t exactly look like a horse, but definitely comes from outside. What did the Demon of Canterlot High do to earn a place here in the first place?
Chrysalis said there are all these people from outside, these prisoners walking around town, and we just don’t know who they are. Who else is one? Are they people we know? Is Principal Celestia one of them? Mrs Cake? Derpy?
She looked at the bobbing pink hair of her driver in the front seat.
Is Pacific Glow—
Bad example.
But she said everyone else in town – meaning us – is a copy, made from somebody else’s memories. That, like an optical illusion, we have just enough reality to keep the façade up and no more. That none of our memories are real.
She said the world outside is full of magic and wonder and mythical creatures. That humans are the anomaly, found only here in Tartarus. That everyone outside thinks this place is either a prison, or hell, or something like that.
“Trixie?” asked Pacific Glow.
“Hmmn?” Trixie looked up.
“Your Mom wanted me to ask you about Saturday.”
“What about it?”
“Would you like to go to the Gala from home or with your friends?”
Trixie thought for a second. Does it count as ‘home’ if I’ve never lived there? she wondered. “Friends, I think. We’d like to make an entrance together.”
“Okay.”
Chrysalis had an answer to everything we asked her – though at some point we were so surprised we stopped asking and just let her go. About the only thing she couldn’t explain is Pinkie Pie.
Pies. Pinkie Pies. Or should that be Pinkies Pie? As in ‘the sisters Pie’? No, probably not. Does Pinkie have sisters? Other than herself. Selves. I’ve never seen any.
Anyway. That’s a lot of answers to get from one place, a lot of trust to give one untrustworthy source. Right now Chrysalis is the only person telling us anything. If only there was someone else we could ask.
Such as another of these ‘immortals’. If they even exist, they supposedly know as much as Chrysalis does about Tartarus and the outside world, maybe more.
They might confirm her story. They might contradict it. They might surprise or confuse us. They might try to eat us or something, I suppose, but it’s unlikely.
Either way, there’s only one place we know we can find them.
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Hmm. Wonder who's gonna be at the Gala besides Chrysalis and Tirek.
They likely won't like the answers.
How confusing will this story be?
Still really curious about Pinkie and what role she plays in Tartarus.
Nearly forgot Sunset was there too. I look forward to Trixie's eventual conversation with her
9091809
Well, we have a Dazzling sighting (the "girls with the swagger and the 80s hair"), so I'd say they are a safe bet.
Trixie is... Is. If ever there was a doubt they're not just clones, Trixie is the living (of a sort) proof. Just about the polar opposite of the one outside the fishbowl. A cultivated, engineered facade and layers of depth behind it. She's closer to Celestia than anyone else coming to mind, really.
Reality is relative. It's a sliding scale, not merely a true-false binary. If a work of fiction can inspire tens, if not hundreds of thousands, then there's some weight behind it. And if a simulacrum can grow beyond the template that created her, she amasses some significance independent of her source material.
Chrysalis's description of changelings is especially interesting because they could theoretically serve the role she describes. Indeed, that might have been how they lived before she militarized them.
Octavia recognizing the option to slip back into the lie reminds me of Don't Rest Your Hooves, wherein the players are background ponies trying to keep their heads above the narrative's water line.
I do love how each girl recognizes how Pinkie is a bad example for pretty much any line of thought regarding the nature of Tartarus. I also love Trixie thinking through Chrysalis's continuing deception. If anyone's going to see through another's smoke and mirrors, it's an instance of Trixie.
Eagerly looking forward to the Gala. This is sure to be good.
I'm half expecting 'Doctor Whooves' to just appear and explain to them about the multiverse.
And never once did ponies consider that the homunculi might one day find corruption through befriending the immortal criminals.
I can totally see that happening.
so true
aww yes the existential crisis that should face every Equestria Girls character but rarely is confronted in fics!
as a former weird child i relate to this
hehe love how this is how Vinyl gets her attention
ooh, love how this is how Changelings see themselves! makes a lot of sense for them to have such a story
aww but the her in the form of a small horse is so cool!
lewd!
hehe fun repetition
to be fair it's Rainbow Dash!
oof, the existential crisis is too real! it's so easy to see the world and the people in it living their lives in without seemingly being affected by such questions as not having to live with them, and then the question of if knowledge is worth it if it destroys meaning and happiness...
hell yeah!
aww, that does sound like something that ponies would set up!
oof, Pinkie self-awareness!
ooh, an intriguing question! that does sound like a hint as to how the story will end
trifecta, nice
i always choose the latter