Society as We Know It

by Comma Typer

To Build Upon

Filthy Rich gazed upon the carts of apple products standing in front of his store. All the crates and boxes were labeled with apples.

Rich's Barnyard Bargains was open, though there were no customers yet. It was sunrise but it was not obvious that it was sunrise—the sky was still overcast, now even more damp and gray than the last few days. Snow was falling and several burly Earth ponies were hard at work in scooping and shoveling excess snow out of the way.

Filthy Rich looked at them and tugged at his own tie.

A buzz flew down.

Filthy Rich turned around.

"Oh, it's you again," he said, smiling. "Another griffon, another dragon, another changeling in town."

Blue Alarm nodded. "It would be nice if I could buy some of your produce."

He kept that smile. "Why not?"

---

Blue Alarm entered the store, walking on its wooden floor and passing by the several aisles and shelves of more than just apples—there were watermelons, cabbages, chocolate bars, and butter scattered here and there. However, most of what was being sold were apples and apple-related products: apple juice, apple cider, apple pie, apple fritters, and so on.

Filthy Rich stood behind the counter and smiled as he watched the changeling fly around his shop. He saw the changeling hold a jar of apple jam—Blue Alarm examined it, rotated it, zoomed in on it, read the nutrition label at the back, shook it, placed his ear to it. He did the same to a box of apple pie, being careful to not open it.

The stallion raised an eyebrow. He looked left and right. "Just usual changeling behavior, I guess."

Blue Alarm placed the jar and the box back to where they were on the racks.

"Is the apple theme something you chose because...?"

"It's a family tradition," he said from his counter. "Uh, it's more than just that. The Rich family and the Apple family have been close to each other since the founding of Ponyville. It goes way back to Stinkin Rich, my grandfather—he's the one who built what became this very store you're standing in." He pointed to the floor below the changeling.

The changeling looked down.

"But, he couldn't have done it without the help of Granny Smith. She's the one who cooked up batches of what he sold as his first product—zap apple jam. The rest is history—the town grew and here we are now."

The changeling looked at him and nodded. "Nice story."

"Of course," he said, "there's always something more. The life of a business such as this never ends—at least it ain't supposed to. I've been thinking about hoofing it down to Diamond Tiara when she grows up—from her talent of getting others to do what she wants, she's just a business pony waiting to meet the field."

Blue Alarm smiled. "You're hopeful about it, then?"

"I'm mighty hopeful," he said. "There's nothing that's going to break the Apples and the Riches apart. As long as we treat each other right, then that's that."

Blue Alarm walked forward to the counter.

"Anything else?" he asked.

Silence.

"What does it feel like?"

Filthy Rich raised an eyebrow again.

"To have a family?"

He took a step back. "What?"

"I mean it," he said, being polite. "If there's one thing I've noticed about lots of ponies and how they interact with each other, there's this...family. There's a father, there's a mother, and then there's children."

Filthy Rich said nothing as he looked upon the changeling—looking away as he pondered.

"We never had a family like that," he said. "We were all raised by the same queen. We did not feel loved by her—it was always to do this or to do that because we're going to steal love very soon."

Filthy Rich looked down, stammering. Then, looking up, he said: "So, what was your question again?"

"What does it feel like to have a family, Filthy Rich?"

He coughed. "Uh, not 'Filthy Rich,' please."

"I thought that was your name?"

"I'd rather that you call me 'Mr. Rich,'" he said.

"Oh. OK."

Then, the pony sighed. "What does it feel like to have a family?" he repeated to himself. Turning to face the changeling he said, "It's...magical."

Blue Alarm tilted his head at that.

"I'm sure you know how it all starts—with marriage. I loved Spoiled Milk because she was a wonderful pony—you could say that she was the apple of my eye. She had many ideas in her head and she often told me a few things about my family business that I sought to bring in. While I do admit that she might be...rude at times, she was and is still a lovely pony.

"Where were we? Marriage?"

Blue Alarm nodded.

"So, it starts out with marriage. Then, later on, we have a foal of our own—our little Diamond Tiara."

Then, a sigh as he looked up to the ceiling.

"Now that I mention it, it has been years—even if it feels like it was only yesterday. Being married and the being a father—it changes your perspective on many things. As a businesspony—before—I always had my two eyes on the present. What could I do to improve sales here? What could I do to make sure more and more ponies patronize Rich's Barnyard Bargains? What could I do to spread awareness of this old store beyond the confines of Ponyville? I was wrapped up in work, always asking myself about today.

"Then, when I got married, I slowed down. There wasn't just me anymore—there was Spoiled, too. A pony to love and to care for—to treat her out to fancy, extravagant dinners and expensive romantic trips out to the far reaches of Equestria. But, it was more than that. In love, I would do all that was good to her—whether in the easy times or in the hard. She would do the same to me, too. In love, it did not matter what was the cost—what mattered was that we gave our all to each other, that we lived for each other—to see a smile on each other's face in the end.

"Then, Diamond Tiara arrived. That changed me even more. I had to take a hoof away from the business to make sure that this foal will grow up to be a good pony. This life—this precious life—was a pony grabbing for a chance at anything. And, to see her slowly grow up—"

A choke.

"Sorry."

Blue Alarm nodded.

"You...you have to think deep about what life is, really. You'd have to teach life to a foal—'How does it all work?' You'd want to see her happy, you'd want to see her excited and joyful—you'd want to shower her with all you could give to her, to tell her that you love her. More than that, I wanted to teach her about what's right—for what's the use of a mansion if my very own Diamond Tiara kept on bullying foals that did not intend her harm? But, now, she's better and we've never been a happier family."

Blue Alarm rested a hoof on the counter, leaning on it.

"What I'm trying to say is: It feels good because it is good. I don't know about how a changeling family would work out, but having it like us—I honestly can't think of any other way. I'm guessing you're not married, right?"

Blue Alarm nodded.

"Well, I can tell you to enjoy the freedom you have—you even have wings! Fly around, go everywhere, hang out with your friends, see what this great land has. But, having a family—it brings you to love no matter what, to do all and to sacrifice everything just so you could give a smiling future to those close to you. The ups, the downs, the good and the bad—only a family could give a life something so touching, so beautiful."

A hoof on his chest, his eyes upward, and a smile.

Blue Alarm nodded. A few bits jangled in his saddle bag as he got them out.

---

Hoofsteps echoed and a few picks of the axe echoed, too. It was dark, though a few lights signalled where the ponies where in the cave.

Blue Alarm looked about him as he stood by the gray mare accompanied by a few others wearing the same mining helmets—complete with lights. Those ponies, too, were picking away at the rocks before them—here and there, a few glitters and sparkles went out and a pony would stop, stand back, and examine the crystal or other shiny gem before him.

"So," Blue Alarm began, grunting as he picked up an axe with his hoof—struggling, muscles failing yet holding it up.

"Mm?"

"I know that this might be a sudden question," he asked, "but what does it feel like being a part of a family? A pony family, I mean?"

A hurtle down on the rock.

Cracks.

"Good."

"Oh."

The other ponies paid no attention, all focused on their rocky excursion.

"Thanks, Maud."

And he flew away.

---

Blue Alarm walked over to a green hill that overlooked some of Ponyville's "backyard": green plains, several patches of tree, and a pristine lake where several ponies were playing a stone skipping competition. It looked official enough since there was a table of judges (ready with eleven placards each), bleachers full of wild fans wearing all kinds of team memorabilia and merchandise, and reporters with cameras and notepads recording the event in earnest. There were yet more ponies flocking to the growing sport as a recognized form of competition.

"I've lived here for years already, and the ponies of this town are still crazy!" he heard Twilight mumble as he saw her fly overhead along with Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, the three of them heading for the lake where they took a seat beside the bleachers.

A bit farther ahead, just a stone's throw away from the event, was Trixie and Starlight laying out a wooden stage on the sand.

"I see that you're taking a liking for skipping stone."

Blue Alarm turned around. "Mr. and Mrs. Cake?"

The couple—each holding one of their sleeping foals—nodded. "It's not something unique to Ponyville, sure," Mr. Cake continued, "but it brings us all together nonetheless. I've yet to see a pony who would dedicate his whole life to skipping stones, though."

Blue Alarm smiled. "Good timing."

Mrs. Cake made a curious look. "Why so?"

"I was asking around about families?" he said.

The couple looked at each other. Then, they looked back at him. "What for?" she asked.

"Just wondering."

Mr. Cake squinted his eyes. "Won't it better if we talk about it down at the lake?"

Blue Alarm looked at the lake. "Yes, I think."

---

The changeling stepped on the sand.

The noise swelled more. The main competitors—three of them, one wearing shades, another wearing a cap, and yet another wearing shades and a cap—were flexing their hooves. On a table were stacks of stones all categorized and set apart into different groups. Scorers and judges stood close together—the judges conversing among themselves in shouts, trying to rise above the upheaval of the rabid audience; the scorers, meanwhile, looked at their notes and their other papers, investigating in silence and without moving an inch from where they were. Farther away, a few tents were arranged—even more competitors were residing there, some wearing towels and others just chatting as they drank cups of water.

Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy were among the ponies who were late to get a good seat—or any seat—at the bleachers, resorting to sitting on the sand as they watched the preparations for the next game. Twilight waved at somepony—Starlight waved back from afar.

A pegasus walked up to a microphone and announced, "Coming up, everypony, is the moment you've all been waiting for! The grand finals of the annual Ponyville Stone Skipping Competition! Who will it be, folks? Will it be the seven-time reigning champ, Caramel?!"

And screams and shouts bursted forth for Caramel as he stood tall and made a striking pose with a stone—and then a judge hastily returned the stone back to the table.

"Or, will it be one of the daring challengers: the businesspony Davenport or Written Script?!"

The Earth pony and the unicorn, respectively, rose up to the ardor awe of the crowd—this time with a fiercer voice.

Caramel shuddered but resumed his calm and collected facade.

"What does it feel like, mister and misses?" he asked the two Cake ponies.

The foals were still sleeping.

"It's tiring but rewarding," Mr. Cake said.

"It's a labor of love," Mrs. Cake spoke, patting Pound Cake with a hoof. "It's not so bad when you see that it's all for a good cause."

Blue Alarm nodded. "Anything else?"

"Well, there's not much else I could explain to you right now," he said. "Some things you could only really know when you get to it. Besides—" pointing at the competitors "—we're in the middle of a throw."

"Right. Sorry."

Then, he turned toward the ponies standing in front of the lake.

The lake was peaceful, probably pacific.

A pony wearing spectacles walked up to the lake and looked at it.

A few seconds passed.

The pony smiled and yelled, "Ready for throw!"

"Ready for throw!" the announcer repeated through the microphone.

Blue Alarm sat down on the sand along with the Cakes.

"First up: Caramel!"

Caramel wobbled a bit though regained his balance before he reached the threshold of the lake. Another pony rushed up to him and hoofed him a stone—a flat stone.

The champion nodded and smirked as he faced the lake.

He twisted his rock-holding hoof around, stretching it the last couple of times—turning it around.

The crowd collectively leaned forward.

The judges opened their mouths and leaned forward, too.

The scorers did the same.

The announcer was alone in resisting the urge to open his mouth and lean forward.

Then, a throw.

Bounced once.

Another bounce.

One more bounce.

Still another bounce.

Once more, a bounce.

Several bounces.

Some more bounces.

A few more.

A couple more.

Not that many left.

Sill three more.

Then, it sank.

"Twenty-three bounces!" Caramel yelled—disappointed.

"Twenty-three bounces!" the announcer shouted. "This is woefully below his average of thirty bounces! Twenty-three is not a number to sneeze at, folks, but it might just be short enough to jump over for these promising rivals!"

Caramel snorted as he stormed his way to the the camp of tents. Most of the other competitors there watched him as he retreated to his own tent—stamped with the words "Champion's Tent".

"Ooh! That's not a good sign!" the announcer observed. "If the champion himself is this mad about his unusual score, then that means that even he doesn't believe that the title will remain with him for much longer!"

A few ponies from the bleachers pre-empted a cheer with some more shouts—but, they stopped when they realized that no one else took it up with them.

And Blue Alarm watched as Davenport, next in line, went to the lake's edge.