Prologue
When people are born, desires and dreams came with them.
A child may foolishly pursue that dream. That is, before the monotony of adulthood begins. An adult may work and slave through the day, seeking solace in a place in society. Sometimes there’s a flirting wink from their coworker. Sometimes there’s triumph in a completed magnum opus. Sometimes there’s failure, forced to start all over again. Each of these things, one way or another, would lead to something...fulfilling. Never popular, never satisfied; it’s a struggle in the pursuit of happiness, because it’s the right of a self-proclaimed protagonist—everyone’s reality.
And what better way waste all that time dwelling in the abyss of color that is the internet, with so much content to dig and find in the infinity of cyberspace.
Youtube, Reddit, Steam, Deviant Art, Tumblr, and god damn Facebook...they all occupy the vastness of the web.
Musicians and listeners. Writers and readers. Videomakers and viewers. Artists and appreciators. It’s a duality that brings together communities and relentless passions—and veer off into cesspools of insanity. Like Fandoms: digital kingdoms dedicated to a cartoon, idea, anime, or a single person.
Where a lurker lurks, one can find such catalysts of ultimate machines of memes. For the LOLs or otherwise. They’re all landmarks of the Internet all the same. The greatest in particular emerged from the badlands of 4Chan. Especially 4Chan.
Without them, cyberspace would be dead space. Empty. Boring.
Unfortunately, the sad reality is that alll good things must find themselves “dying”. In a way, every fandom can be immortalized by the superior memory of the internet, But as new things comes and the old goes, virtual immortality is meaningless in the face of exponential change. In the fun of those things, they carry an expiration date. It's like milk: enjoy it while you can before it spoils.
I’ve been in too many fandoms to not ponder upon these kinds of things. Otaku? Guilty. I’ll fight for my waifu. Trekkie? I like my science fiction. Even my entire childhood of cartoons slept under my meme belt. I pride myself in seeing as much as possible...including the last gasp of their lifespans.
Brony?
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic was a special gem, a rarity of a show filled with real life lessons both cheesy and mature, expressing the purest ideal of friendship to a cynical world. Y’know. For kids. Which was why jaws dropped by it’s epic rise to popularity. The fandom it spawned? Just as crazy. And so the Bronies came to be, simply men who happened to like a show meant for little girls.
From the cringe to the most proudest of hours, I’ve been through it all thick and thin. The innocent, the corrupt, and strange happened in the long years of ponies and the magic of friendship. The Brony Fandom, once upon a time, was exceptional, boasting a community that spanned globally.
Not anymore.
This is TutorialBlues88, signing off.
All I saw was white. The single color reached infinitely omnidirectionally. From the horizon to the floor and to the ceiling, that’s all there was.
In front of me was a simple desk of rich oak, shining as though in a spotlight. Behind that desk, sitting on a chair made of illustrious, ebony leather, was a skeleton adorned with a black cloak, his hands clasped together. Towers of paper neatly laid around his desk, but pens were scattered around in contrast. There’s even an open computer to the side, which brightly shined the jawline of the figure's skull. His empty sockets stared.
I stared back, compelled to say one thing: “Am I dead?”
“Yep.”
There was a pause. I blinked. “You’re awfully blunt about that.”
The dark figure chuckled hollowly through the abyss that was his throat. “And you’re awfully calm about being dead.”
“A good part of me believes this is a hallucination.”
“That’s understandable,” he said with a nod. “It happens sometimes when people don’t know how they died—In fact, perhaps you shouldn’t know.” The figure looked away. His skull clattered under his hood, as if withholding something.
I gulped. “Uh...is something wrong, sir?”
He returned his empty gaze back at me, yet, somehow, his skull morphed comically. “Sorry! Sorry. It’s just that your death was a little...controversial. And please, call me Death. ‘Sir’ makes me feel young. We have much to discuss.”
I raised a brow. “Okaaay…” Not my business to care, but curiosity won over. It’s my own death after all. May as well play along with whatever it was my mind conceived. “So. Death. How controversial?”
“Well—” Death went silent for a minute, contemplating how he should word his answer. Fiddling with a pen, his bony fingers clacked at the plastic as his gravel-like voice hummed in his rib cage. “Let me tell you something important: the universe acts in very, very strange ways, but there’s always a purpose to it. Any moment leads to the next, and even death can be a gateway to something...more. Now, your death can mean anything. It’s up to you to decide what you, and only you, believe.”
“Is this leading to the meaning of life or something?” I deadpanned.
“No no no,” the skeleton sputtered. “Nothing tantamount like that! It’s just, uh, well—”
“Look, Death, come on. What’s the big deal? Just how did I die?”
Death sighed and nodded solemnly. “Very well. If you want to know right away, then fine.” Hollow orbs stared right me, riddling me with chills. At that moment, I feared knowing. Backed by the gravity of the very concept of Death, he rasped, “You tripped on a ball and got a heart attack.”
Death's serious demeanor remained as so as the seconds ticked by. But judging by his skeleton jaw chattering with the upper teeth... He was failing.
My eye twitched. “...What?”
“Snnrkt!” The dam broke and Death roared with laughter. I frowned deeper. That only made him laugh harder.
So there I was, in the face of Death, and he’s laughing AT me. ...it’s usually the other way around when a character did something insane or heroic. But in metaphorical irony, I was apparently such a wuss that I died like one and Death saw fit to capitalize my embarrassment. It's almost upsetting.
Finally, his laughter died down to chuckles. The hollow of his mouth stretched into an unsettling grin. “Don’t believe me? Then explain how you feel so lucid. If you’re truly on drugs, you wouldn’t notice how in touch your senses are. Would’ve been muted or heightened. Now...” He opened his arms wide, gesturing to the vast and endless white world. “...do you believe this world feels unrealistic?”
I looked around. I didn’t know how I got there, nor when. Yet, I had sense of clarity, an awareness of how the void wasn’t truly dead space. The white abyss greeted me back. It felt whole, as if everything was there yet wasn't.
“It’s surreal,” I muttered. “Like a lucid dream.”
Death nodded. Somehow, his gaze softened despite lacking muscle tissue. “Indeed. Many before you felt so as well. There’s a reason for this: your soul is free.”
“Soul?”
“Yes. It's the house of your consciousness. From the moment you saw the light beyond your mother’s womb, the soul records every moment thereafter. Your childhood, your adulthood, and your...demise.” Death stared emptily as if, word by word, reciting from an ancient text. “The human brain limits the soul's ability to recollect or maintain a true state of consciousness. When death comes, you’d see your entire life flash before your eyes. That's your soul leaving the mortal realm, unbound by all physical laws, bursting into a stream of recollection.” Death looked at me in the eyes. “You should remember everything up until the moment you died. Try it. Recall.”
I frowned. I decided to humor him. But then... My my just slipped—effortless, like splashing myself in cold water.
I remembered how I cried, straight out of the womb. Parents, too. I saw my own childhood, where friends and teachers came and went...
The teenage years were the worst, glued to the nearest device connected to the Internet. I hang around with many different groups, played games with them, and followed wherever they went like a lost puppy. Most of the time, I was never able to stay.
Test results: Lots of A's, B's and C's—a cycle of stagnation and motivation, drifting from one subject after another.
Every single word, every little thing that friends, family, and strangers said echoed in a flash.
As a kid, I discovered the many things in the internet, the good and bad I remembered every meme and inside joke I encountered down to the last thread.
But then...there were the fandoms. Guilt.
I was a cringey and obsessive of many things. The regrets piled, mostly from embarrassment of all the keyboard wars that raged... It never stopped the fun, though. The memes ruled supreme in every aspect of my digital activities as curiosity dragged me into the dark hole and darker underground of strange wonders.
Adulthood flew by. Never got married. After college, I wafted along with my muses. I had a simple job: Office work. Just a boring employee in a random office firm edging toward promotion. But I stayed at that step, never raising nor descending. As I slobbed through the World Wide Web, political correctness ran rampant among my colleagues in the most idiotic of ways. I didn't meme as hard as I used to out of fear.
It was, in summary, a normal life. I remembered how content I was despite it. Yet, sometimes I would realize how much I missed out every time I looked back...as if I never outgrew the teenager whose 18th birthday was just the day before.
Finally, the day of my death. One day, I felt a sense of longing; nostalgia. I missed walking, and I missed my degenerate memes even more. So, I was out in a casual stroll in a park with my old MP3 player on hand, practically ancient compared to modern standards. I jogged, earphones digging in my ears.
I enjoyed my afternoon as I thought fondly of the old music I listened to, dating back to my preteens. It was essentially my childhood. I set it to shuffle, making it a game of what song names I remembered. Fan music, parodies, original works—I had it all. It was fun for a few minutes. That was, until a certain song came on.
“My name is Pinkie Pie. Hello!”
A cloud's shadow swam over me and I slouch into a walk. The remnant of a long and bright history of a certain fandom tightened my lungs. Soon, I realized why I stopped thinking about the past in the first place. I moved to skip to the next song. In that instant, my foot landed on something round and bouncy. In the time it took me to fall, I saw blue, blue, and more blue as “Dash’s Empty Skies” played. Even though the cloud parted to reveal the heavenly sun, my eyes had already lost incandescence.
I gasped back to the present.
“Now you’ve realized,” Death said, snapping me out of my memory daze. “You can remember, yet not beyond the moment you tripped, meaning that was the end. You’ve died.” No sympathy in his words, only truth.
“I-I…” I looked down, refusing to meet his face. “I’m really dead.” A sick part of me was glad. My death wasn’t slow or agonizing. It was quick, sudden, and lacked the horror of imminent doom. But what hit me hardest like a punch to the gut was… “It was boring. So...dumb."
“Now, remember when I said your death—”
"My death in particular means nothing," I snapped. “Face it: Tripping on a ball? It’s a freak accident!”
Death lifted a finger bone to refute, but my glare stopped him cold. He relented. "...if that’s what you believe."
With Death's submission, it was silent as a grave between us. I had to take it all in. I died. Nothing to do about it. No redo's. Zip. Nada. Dead stays dead, no matter what regrets I had. The cold thoughts, while reasonable, didn’t stop the hollow question from welling up inside: Am I satisfied?
I took a deep, deep breath, and exhaled whatever emotions that I could. It might be meaningless if I am technically without a physical body anymore, but it’s the thought that counted. By the fifth exhale, I was ready, emptier than dead space. I gazed up at Death.
“What now then?” I asked, my breath shallow. “Do I go to Heaven, or Hell? Is there even one?”
“Nope.”
I blinked.
“There’s no heaven or hell. Just white space,” he clarified.
“T-then it’s all just limbo?” I incredulously searched around the white world, compelled by a need to know if there was something, anything at all there. I found nothing but dread. “What about everyone else? Where are they?”
“Now, calm down.” Death waved a hand of bone. “Everyone must end up somewhere, of course. Now this is the fun part." He raised two fingers. "You have two choices. The first is to relinquish your will in the world and dissolve your soul, becoming one with the void forever. A true end, of sorts. The second is...well," he paused dramatically, smiling toothily. "Do you believe in alternate world's and realities?”
The idea struck me like a hammer. “Oh,” I uttered. It didn’t take a genius to know where the conversation would go.
“‘Oh’ indeed.” Death smiled, obviously enjoying my shocked expression. “And you get to choose which.”
"Even...fictional ones?"
"Especially fictional ones," Death nodded. "A favorite among many. Many concieved their own paradises."
It was funny. The only paradise that ever existed was in the mind all along. Just...in another dimension or universe. By the whim of one person or "god", worlds could simply be conceived for some reason or no reason at all. Cartoons, anime, books, TV shows... All of it could be potentially be “real”. But that sprung out a question...
"Was...our world conceived, too?"
Death simply chuckled with a shrug. "Who knows? It’s a possibility, but there’s no way to know for certain. Like...a barrier between writer and fiction, you could say.”
“O-oh..." Even in the afterlife, it seemed some thing will forever stay a mystery. I wasn’t how to feel about that. I gulped. "So... My choice, my world?"
"Yes. You are allowed to give it some thought as needed."
And give it thought I did. Which world will I go, was the question. It said a lot about me when I thought more about where to go rather than make my own paradise. I couldn't help it. Media was my life. I had watched numerous shows, read countless stories and played libraries of games... But there were too many to choose from.
So, I decided upon a different question: Where did it all start? When did it start? Somewhere, along the line, something introduced me to the world of cartoons and video games, that drove me to indulge in many amazing and trashy things. My first—a gateway fandom.
Oh.
My soul went cold. Even though I wanted nothing to do with it anymore, was I willing to turn back? My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and the Brony Fandom... Can I really find it in myself to feel the passion I once had for it?
Even after the fandom died out?
I don't know. But was it wrong to want to know?
"If I die in the world I end up, will the reincarnation process happen again?" I asked suddenly.
With a pleasant chuckle, surprising with his ghastly voice, Death said, "Thinking ahead, I see. Yes, but only after processing through the death cycle of the world you will end up, if it has one."
A warranty. If I was unsatisfied, I could simply let nature run its course and die, starting over with a different world. Even knowing where I'd end up, even though dying still unsettled me...the point still stood: I had nothing to lose.
Sentimentality won over me, and a grim emotion crossed mind. "Then I made my decision."
"Very well," Death rasped. "All you have to do is imagine it and the world will be generated all on its own. Be aware that it will be unique to you, and only you. Any copy of a preexisting universe will never be perfect. Backgrounds and events lacking context will be filled in randomly within reason or the preset parameters. Once it is conceived, it will run the rules you set and you will follow it accordingly upon reincarnation. Any questions?"
I shook my head.
"I see." He nodded neutrally. "Then whenever you are ready."
I shrugged, if only to loosen the nervousness I felt. If I stalled, I knew I would hesitate and back out, a coward again. "May as well do it now. Can't keep you from your next soul, now can I?" I smirked, for once trying to find ease in the skeleton's hospitality.
Then suddenly, the optimistic figure that Death built himself as wilted. Pen clacking stopped. Gone was the upbeat attitude, the boldness, now a ghastly whisper of a corpse. In its place was age... Exhaustion. “Actually, my job is done now. Forever. You are the last.”
I went stock still. “I...am?”
“Understand that humanity grew exponentially, and so did the deaths. No surprise that I would get...behind. A lot in the pile got out of order. That's why you are it: My last and final soul for this old man to lead away before he himself finally passes on.”
"So Humanity is dead? Been dead...?" My mouth tightened as my throat went cold and lumpy with emptiness. “Wow, I...,” I gulped, “I guess nothing really does last forever...”
The presence of time had shown itself, its savage knife along our throats threatening to introduce our respective ends. Nothing lasts forever, that was the sole truth since time immemorial. I wasn't naive to that fact. So why did it stung so much?
What about Death, who saw to the end of all lives and their passing? How old must he be to even transcend the attrition of all of humanity, myself included? To hold all of that burden... That just sucked.
"...I see you have lingering doubts. A penny for your thoughts?" Death asked.
My hesitation held the silence, tightening my jaw to hold off the words. Honestly, I was more interested in his thoughts. But wouldn't that be selfish of me to ask?
"I understand if you'd rather not. It's personal, I know," Death said. But strangely, his jovial attitude receded completely. He shifted on his seat, like a child with stage fright. It’s as if he's wearing his heart open. "It's just that—well, just this one time, I'd like to make my last...worthwhile, you could say."
In other words, everything must choose how it'll end one day. For him, this is it. And...maybe the same went for me as well.
Fine.
"Did you ever feel sick of it?" I finally asked. "Meeting people at a personal level and then letting them pass on by?"
I bowed my head, staring at the desk in front of me, hands shakily clasped in a death grip. Death’s skeleton stilled, as if respecting my words carefully.
In a way, I reflected myself in Death. In the deaths of fandoms, in the end of good fun... It was silly. Here I was, a grown middle-aged man who worried about the end of childish things. I always hated that part of me, the obsessive and cringey boy who never grew up from it. But could it be helped?
"Sometimes, yes." Death stood straight. "I've met countless souls in this world. Children, adults, innocents, criminals and the average man stood where you are before me. Many of them I’m delighted to call friends," he chuckled a little, then he stopped. "But do you know what the thing is? Even after an eternity, I still consider them friends. Friends until the end of time, yes?" He smiled. "I'm Death. Whatever gifts life brings me, I keep forever."
I looked wide-eyed at him. Something warm bubbled in my soul...and burst into a chuckle. And then: laughter. Death didn't understand what I found funny, but seemed to relax from my reaction. He was oddly satisfied,
"You serious about that?" I asked, wading off the last of my fit.
"The soul never forgets," he responded lightly. "Don't you have something like that?"
The nostalgia kissed my face. In bliss, I said, "Yeah. I do."
The mirth remained in our faces for a long while as we shared what friendships we had, all in perfect detail.
Even by eternity’s end, friendship still triumphed in some form or another. It was cheesy...but for some reason, that comforted me.
When I was still a Brony, I've seen a lot of things happen, some great and some bad. Sometimes people gather around for a great cause because why the hell not? Hell, communities may gather for some weird reason or for fun to be had! Everywhere there's someplace to belong in, to be a part of the awesome. I thought it was impossible to be alone.
But my friends weren't as crazy as me, as obsessive. They moved on. I'd try to follow but distant grew in time. So I found new friends . Same thing happened, over and over...until friends turned groups, groups turned to communities, and then communities turned to fandoms.
I missed them. I miss the good ol' days.
But if friendship could last forever, then maybe not all was lost. Nothing wrong with turning back around just to sight-see and recall all the good times, right? Coming back to school for Friendship 101 once again, TutorialBlues88 is raising a hoof for attendance! So, here I am as I do what feels most natural to me:
Revisiting Lessons
"I'm ready now."
"Good. I suppose I don't need these anymore." Death clacked his finger bones, imitating a snap and, by their cue, the desk, filled with stacks of papers and a computer, disappeared in a blink of an eye as though nothing was ever there. All this time, it was all for show. Heh. Death, that showoff.
A translucent light emitted from my being, ethereal. I felt light as if a weight had finally been discarded. If I still had a heartbeat, it would've risen at the surrealism—I felt a tug from in my core. I understood; my soul was preparing to make its jump. It was warm, comforting even. After a few moments, the glow suddenly intensified as I found myself embraced with light. Soon, I will be gone.
But not yet. There was still something on my mind.
“Hey, um, Death,” I called, biting my cheek as I thought over what I wanted to say. In the end, I could only keep it simple. “Thank You. For taking care of me—and us. You did great.”
I waited for him to respond. Maybe he didn't need to. I lost track of time on how long we talked, but we came out as old, best friends in the end. We joked, we reminisced, and we shared our philosophies... I never thought I would find a friend in Death of all people.
I gave him my best smile. It was awkward and stilted, but when Death’s skull under his hood twitched, I knew it was enough. After all, it’s only fitting that the last thing he'll see was the smile of someone who he helped last. He chose the way he'd end it, and I chose mine.
It roused him though. “I haven’t had someone say that in a very, very long time.” Death grinned. “Live well in your new life. And farewell.” It was the finality in his voice, tinted with a spark of life, as he gave me his last whisper all that I needed to hear. Any remaining doubts washed away from me, and my own smile grew a little as well.
That was the first and last time I saw him as everything turned dark.
Pop!
But then I fell, screaming for my short-lived life as a blue, shaggy pegasus.
"This is what he meant by reincarnatiiioooooon—?!"
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Dead link is dead.
Nah, cartoon fandoms don't really die, as such.
For the most part, they're gradually infiltrated, corrupted, and usurped by porn and politics. What's remains pure hangs on longer.
It's just difficult to see them, those tiny flecks of gold hidden in the tons of river-bottom mud.
"Oh honey pumpkin, our foal is crowning! Just one more big push—OH NO"
"What...? What... happened?"
"You shot it right over the edge of the clouds!"
"What???"
So I mean, that's a little bit more of an interesting spin than the ordinary Human in Equestria story. But think about the implications! A higher-realm force that's capable of conjuring separate realities for not one, but over 6 billion humans (or over 100 billion humans, if you assume this is for every person born since the birth of humanity)? For those of us who believe in an omnipotent deity, that's within its power. But actually defining something within the constraints of its omnipotence and that capacity turning out to be something so unfathomably large certainly pushes the envelope!
And our main character just kind of completely glazes past that to 'Oh sweet, which fandom world should I create to live in?'
9054677
1. Die
2. Ask Death to send you to a world that's an exact copy of your own in your old body.
3. Die again?
Its saddening that most of what he said was true. Everything ends in the end. nothing is eternal.
The melancholic and somber tone of this opening chapter is actually really well done. I'm interested for more.
9054677
And lets not forget how with each expanding multiverses, with their respective populace and respective deaths, there will be infinitely more "Death"s and infinitely more souls that will reincarnate. It's an exponentially growing amount that will always be the sum of infinity. It's like for each reincarnated person, a whole new world is created for him, and along with it an entire world's worth of new souls, which would reincarnate on their own.
Holy shit!
10667283
Well, over one and a half years later, I guess I'm here, revisiting Revisiting Lessons
I almost cried and lagh at the same time great job 🤣🤣❤️❤️
Honestly if I get be be reincarnated in MLP
I either choose a Draconequus or a Changeling.