Anamnesis

by Background Bystander

Spine Snapper

Author's Note:

Parts of this chapter may or may not have been inspired by an actual conversation I had with a very sleep deprived guy in class.

Maybe...probably.

The celestial bodies performed their song and dance for a few days now, at least that’s what the others said. It certainly felt like more for the spotted unicorn, given the amount of times that doorbell rang and the cacophony of cake batter and confetti within the trenches of Sugarcube Corner. It gave him a war’s worth of shellshock.

But he was becoming numb to her. Many had told him that’s just the way she ticks, so get used to it. It seemed he finally figured why they always got that weird, shifty glint in their eye whenever the subject was brought up. She wasn’t overwhelming per say, just very out there. Very spread out. Just be careful not to get covered with her or their merchandise.

At least she was nice to him. The same couldn’t be said for the owners when he finally met them.

“Hiya, Mrs. Cake! How’re you doing today?”

“Good morning, dearie. Things are just wonderful, especially when I know Sugarcube Corner is in such good hooves.”

“Ooo, well how’d you feel about two pairs of hooves? That would be twice the support, meaning things would be even more just wonderful-er!”

“Erm, excuse me?”

“Yeah, we got some additional help when you guys were out.” She reached under the counter and pulled Louis out from underneath, like a rabbit from a hat. “Mrs. Cake, meet Vanilla Fudge!”

He blinked. “What the…wasn’t I just in the kitchen?” He looked over to the blue pony with the pink swirl mane. “Uh, hello there Mrs…Cake? I’m guessing you’re the one who runs this joint?” He walked around the counter, sticking out a hoof with a smile. “Nice to…meet you?”

She looked like she was staring death in the eyes.

“And I thought I was paranoid…I don’t even know the first thing about starting a business, how-and why-would I set out to ruin yours?” He huffed, walking down the street. “I’m just glad Pinkie was able to calm her down, maybe now I can hold a job for more than a week?”

Maybe not, if this magic plan was going to work. Although this time it would be him giving the business the boot, not the other way around. But they didn’t belong here, not one bit. He heard about aliens, but couldn’t really understand why they never stuck around. Now he did, since he was the alien here. He needed to get back to Earth, despite how lousy it could be from time to every day. Honestly, just how difficult is this magic stuff anyways? From what he could gather, his new appendage was connected to his brain, strung along by nerves of emotional outbursts and thought processes…ok, maybe it was a little difficult, but it wasn’t rocket science!

But could it be if it really wanted too? Just how much was this magic tied to the rest of the world, how it turned and those who spun around within it? Maybe it was strong enough that it dragged him and Ambrose here, changing their bodies to better accommodate the new environment. Ripping them through entire dimensions worth of space to make it possible, how much concentrated energy would be needed to pull off something like that? How much would you need to do it again?

He looked up just in time to see that he stopped in front of the Light’s castle, nearly blinding from the amount of sun reflecting off the surface.

Be nice if I could have some shade, Amby.

“So, is this library a public one, or do I need some kinda reservation?” He saw a few ponies leaving, carrying books and other parchments within their bags. “Guess that answers my question.” He slipped through the doors and hurried inside.

It was as quiet as he remembered, perhaps due to the day winding down and everyone falling into a relaxed stupor. Hearing the echoed clops of his hooves on the mirror polished floor reminded him why he never liked these places. The main purpose of structures such as this is to impose. Anywhere you went in this town, you could see it jutting out into the distance in jagged angles. Like it was ready to shred the sky apart on its many sharp points. And these colors certainly didn’t help.

The sounds of clops were soon partnered by a series of clicks.

“Vanilla?” He turned to see Spike, flashing him a warm fang-y smile. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, hey, Spike. I just came by to ask if I could use your library? I might’ve forgotten which door it’s behind. There’s just so many…”

“Don’t worry about it. Follow me and I’ll show you.” He motioned him over to the left as they walked down another hall. “You’re coming in kinda late, most ponies usually wrap up about ten minutes ago.”

“I’ve had a long day at the Corner…a lotta new faces to learn, a lot of steps to remember. At some point, the clock just becomes a suggestion, man.” And also to keep the background noise low.

“Heh, I hear that, sometimes the library’s that way. Or the things that happen around it, that is.”

“Uh no, bent pages and late returns, sounds like such a back breaker.” He joked.

“No, but some of the spells Twilight and Starlight practice certainly are.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, just when those two are in the zone, it’s best to wear a helmet.”

He pushed open another set of doors, revealing to them a room, the library. It was…wait, hang on!

“This place is huge! How many big open spaces does this castle even have? I swear, this is like, the tenth one I’ve seen!” He turned to Spike. “I mean, how? How have you stuffed this much space into this thing, man?”

Spike looked away nervously for a second. “Well, uh…magic?”

He sighed. “The fact you can actually use that as an excuse irks me in ways you can’t even comprehend.”

“Then perhaps I can help you in things I do comprehend, what’re you here for? Any certain books or scrolls in particular?” He walked over and turned on a lamp at one of the tables. “If you need a place to read, we can just let them know, they won’t mind.”

"No, you don't need to go that far, I'm only looking for a few books is all." He was focused on the rows and rows of shelves that slid around them. It was if the very walls themselves were made out of books, the only things that were holding them up. All melted together in this indescribable blob of colors and gilded spines. Secreting the scent of old paper and faded ink. I guess it's nice, though I'd need to become noseblind if I wanted to stay for long.

"Again, what kind of books? Specific subject matter, picky page count, gunning for a genre?"

How do I ask this without sounding weird? "Um, well...first I'm looking for any, uh, spell books. You have any of those?"

Spike chuckled. "Do you know who I live with?" He pulled a piece of paper and a quill. "Whatever field of magic are you interested in, any era or author. I can assure you, we have plenty to offer.”

Heh, the lizard and his wizard...or would it be witch? “For now, I’m just looking for intermediate type stuff. Kinda like a guide, or a Magic For Dummies if you get what I’m saying.” He looked to the ground sheepishly, searching for sympathy. “I kinda need to brush up on my skills. I’m a little rusty, and it’d be good to get a grip on that before I continue my work.”

“We should have plenty of material for that, and don’t worry about stumping on spells. Just like anything else, it doesn’t hurt to have a refresher...and then another...and then another...and then another until you’ve gone over the same thing ten times just to be sure.”

“Twilight?” He nodded.

Spike wrote a few numbers and letters, section numbers. “Anything else?”

He put a hoof to his chin. “...Yeah, actually, there are. I would like something on unicorn and pegasi anatomy, and...do you have anything on the Wonderbolts?”

“The Wonderbolts?” Spike repeated, walking along the library floors. “I think we have a few, if Rainbow Dash ever returned them, that is.” He led him over to shelves upon shelves of books. Aerial books, pegasi books, books of equestrian sports. All under W.

Spike handed him the books, but he could see his face was disgruntled. Slowly looking around. “Is something wrong?”

“Man, everything is so organized and clean here, it’s distracting.”

He looked to him in a shocked turn, almost scared. “Not every day you hear somepony say neatness is a nuisance.”

“Don’t mean it like that. Just, there’s gotta be something. One book outta place, maybe some trash in the corner, a smudged mirror, anything. Anything to show that somepony is living here.” He wiped his hoof across the crystal floor. It left no trace.

“So you’re saying a mess means that somepony cares about their environment, rather than cleaning it?”

“No, you definitely shouldn’t be a slob hoarder, but anything immaculate is just...off putting, I guess. It makes everything appear fake and staged to me. It’s like this place has no emotion, no history...no life.”

“Sheesh, that’s a little harsh, dontcha think? I know Twilight can be a recluse sometimes, but I wouldn’t say she doesn’t have a life. Same goes for Starlight.”

“No, I’m not saying that, I mean...” He pointed across the room. “Take this chair for example, say somepony sat in it, at least for a few minutes, maybe half an hour. Then they decided to get up. What would you see...feel?”

“Uh, you might see the imprint of where their haunches were sat, perhaps the cushion would be askew on the chair. You could feel the heat from their, uh, butt. Whatever shampoo they use, you could smell it.”

“Right, now let’s say somepony came right after and wiped it clean, fluffing the cushion and leaving it the way it was before they sat down.”

Spike continued to look confused.

“Would you remember?”

“Huh?”

“Would you remember the pony that sat there?”

“Erm, I mean, I guess I would-“

“For how long? A couple hours, minutes? How long until it started to fade?” He ran his hoof over the arm of the chair, staring deep into its make up as he spoke. “How long before it became just a chair once more?”

“Vanilla, I’m not sure I understand...” No response. “Ok, I don’t think I’d really remember once the day’s done.”

“Now, let’s apply that same way of thinking to other things, let’s continue with the house. Say you have a dresser or a table. If dust has collected, you’ll wipe it of dust. If you don’t like where it is, perhaps you’ll shuffle it around the house until you like it. Maybe, you don’t even like it at all, and you go out and buy another set from the vendors at the market or from the furniture outlet. Throwing out the old one and making place for the new one...which will then be known as the one, eventually to become the old one once again.” He threw a hoof around. “It seems that if you really boiled it down, everything could be seen through the lenses of waste. To be disposed of, dusted, erased.”

At this point, Spike had pulled up a stool, watching him wide eyed.

“But then there are others...” He continued. “There are those peculiar objects, or certain rooms of a building where we say hey, wait! Be careful! Don’t touch that, don’t move this! Despite the fact those things could be labeled under the same kind of waste...but yet you keep them around.” He exhaled deeply. “...Because it’s the only one you’re gonna get.”

Spike leaned forward on his seat.

“Because that item, that picture, that photo...well, it’s a one of a kind, it’s special, it’s out of time. They don’t make ‘em like they used to. There are many like it, but this one’s mine. That’s always the excuse, the justification. But it’s just a thing, it doesn’t do anything, it doesn’t believe in anything. It’s just a thing.” He ran a hoof down the arm of the chair, feeling the grooves of the stitched patterns. “But at the same time, it’s also the very thing that holds so much...history, the very trigger that shoots off all these previous experiences and emotions.”

Spike finally tried to get a word in with the unicorn, who’s eyes were starting to glaze over in a haze. “Uh, Vanilla? You might be thinking about this too much-“

“Can I ask you something?” Spike stopped, then nodded. “What are those roots above that table room, the one with the diorama?”

“You mean the Friendship Map? ...Oh, yeah, those are the roots of our old home. We used to live in another library, the Golden Oaks. It was carved inside of a big oak tree, heh, guess that’s how it got it’s name.”

“What happened to it?”

“Well, uh, this was a while back when Twilight first became a princess, when we had our battle against Tirek. It...it got incinerated. Barely any of the trunk and a few scattered pages were left. It’s still hard to believe anything like that could happen, despite everything we’d gone through at that point. In a blink...it was gone. Like...ash...like-“

“Like it was never there to begin with?”

He lowered his head. “Yeah...”

Louis nodded his head. “I see...” Now sitting on the floor, feeling it’s chill run up his back. “But there’s no charred out carcass in the middle of town. When was this castle built?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it was built, more like sprouted. From a chest of another tree.” He saw Louis’s ears swivel with a suspicious twist. “Heh, when it’s put like that, it does sound a bit silly.” He readjusted himself on the stool. “That wasn’t too long ago, either. Before we met Starlight, and much before we were friends. She didn’t used to be the nicest pony. I’ve heard about grudges, but never ‘change the past and nearly destroy all of Equestria’ sorta grudge.”

“Grudges are temper tantrums. You need controlled aggression, raw power.” Silence. “Continue.”

“It was rough first moving in, especially on Twilight. She tried so hard to avoid even coming here, she would work herself to the bone on the other’s own tasks! So, the girls and I tried to come up with a plan to make her feel better about staying in the castle. After much consideration, and many missteps, we decided the best way to do that was-“

“To put the home in the castle, rather than put the castle in the home?”

“Yeah! And the roots were a perfect choice! Even the gems of the chandelier represents an old memory of the Golden Oaks...all the fun times we had.”

“So to contrast the new, immaculate architecture of the castle, you used the older, dirty...err, rustic pieces of your old home, which was really junk at that point...”

Spike sat up straight, eyes widening. “Hey...I think I understand what your saying now.”

“It holds nothing...yet it holds everything at the same time.”

“Huh, never thought of it like that, so like, everything could hold history or store information, kinda like a-“

“Book? You could see that way, as literally any object is capable of bringing about such memories. But there’s a certain type of thing that is best at holding that information…your own body?”

“How?”

“Well for one, your brain obviously, but there’s a little more to it. Take for example your mannerisms, the way you speak and walk. Sure you learn it in your own way, but it’s first brought about by something else, either somepony or and event. It could be result of cultural norms and gestures. It’s all a product of your environment. And vice versa. Your body is a vessel for it all. Physically, mentally or spiritually, all etched within you like ink on a page.”

“Or like a cutie mark on your flank?”

“That’s a part of it, individual talent is another mark of history, pardon the pun. As they are unique interpretations of the same information. But here’s the crazy part about it, your own individuality is a result of other’s individualities themselves. You are them, and they are you, no matter how hard you dig down you’ll find their influences. All stored away like books, you’re your own walking library, dude. Everything and nothing.”

“That’s quite the theory, Vanilla.” He turned to see a tired Twilight behind him, trying her best to give him a smile. Many strands of her mane shooting in wild directions. “I see you’ve studied a very...interesting form a existentialism, if that’s what that was."

He blinked rapidly, coming back into focus. "Oh...whoops, sorry about that. Sometimes I start to ramble, and it can derail at times...as rambling is..."

Spike gave him a reassuring smile. "No worries. Lucky for you, I'm used to ponies giving long winded lectures." Shooting Twilight a smug look.

"Ok, uh, how about something a little lighter?" He lowered his head to Spike. "You ever think about how reading is just staring at tree shavings and hallucinating?" Spike's eyes went glassy again.

"Alright, that's enough for one night." She levitated Spike onto her back. "We can delve into philosophy some other time, you still need a hoof with those books?

---

Another door, another place, another face.

Ugh.

"Hello? Guess who's baaack?" He called into the house, dropping his bags by the door and beginning to sift through the books, spreading them out on the coffee table.

"Yes?" Came a voice from the bathroom door, opening with a curious squeak. Out poked a golden head, glisteneing wet from a steamy shower. The face seemed to brighten even more to a slight red. "Ah, welcome back, Vanilla. You're a little later than usual, what’s the hold up?"

"Nothing, everything's all good, Mellow. It's just...I got some books." He paused for a moment, realizing... "Ah! Sorry, I mean Ambrose...Ambrose..."

He smiled. "I know, it's annoying with the whole two-name thing, but I won't forget it!" He said with confidence.

But you just... "Yeah...I, uh, got Spike and Twilight to hook me up with books about spells and casting techniques. Glad Pinkie gave me those bags, all these spines would've snapped my spine."

Ambrose wiped himself off with a towel and hung it around his neck. "I hope you can get a hang on it very soon. Check the mail in the kitchen, we finally got our...request from Applejack."

He walked over to the kitchen and saw a few papers on the table, open messily opened with an uneven rip. "How'd you even open these? And don't say magic!"

"How else do you want me to describe it? These hooves are weird!" He shouted from around the corner.

He groaned and flipped open the letter, skimming through the words of consolation and slightly warmed welcomes to town. Then he got down to the numbers...

"Aww c'mon! This is in the thousands! You can't be serious, we didn't even do that much damage!"

"I flew over the acres, there's huge chunks of apples gone."

"It was an accident!"

"Often those cost the most."

"Fuck you, man!" He threw the paper down and stomped back into the living room. "How long is that gonna take to pay off, weeks?"

Ambrose's ears lowered with his head. "We can only hope."

"Well there better be something seriously helpful within these books...but while we're here, I got you a little extra to pass the time." He pulled out a couple books, displaying colorful graphics of a lightning bolt with wings.

"Is that..."

"You’ve talked about this Wonderbolt stuff before, so I just figured you'd like to know a little more about it."

Ambrose hopped over quickly, eyes darting back and forth between the covers as he danced on his hooves. "Thank you thank you thank you! This is gonna be so fucking cool, it's like learning to drive all over again!"

"Amby...you're...uh..."

"What? You've seen my naked for days, and now it's a problem?" He said with a sly tone, flicking him with his tail.

"No, you're still wet and you getting suds all over the couch! Go finish showering! Also, did you just...prance?"

"I...I did?" He whispered, before sheepishly backing away into the bathroom. "Right, sorry, I'll...go finish now." He muttered, slamming the door.

"Ugh, for fucks sake, man. I thought you were supposed to be the one with common sense.” He moved over to the bookshelf where their TV used to be, shuffling them around to make space for the new additions. As he was doing this, a small piece of paper fell out from between the pages of an older book. He pulled it out to examine it further, finding many of the words old and faded. Really only being able to make out Guit, before being cut off by missing letters.

"Huh?" He put the books down and picked up the note, unfolding it slowly. Reading it even slower.

Hey Fudge!

Things got pretty crazy near the end there, didn't they? I'm sorry it ended up happening that way, hopefully we can still write from time to time, maybe we can even visit! Again, I'm terribly sorry, but I got my responsibilities as do you, and I wish you nothing but the best. Hoping to hear from you soon.

P.S.
I've also enclosed that 'study' spell we used so frequently, I think I've improved it greatly since we last spoke. Put it to good use, you certainly got a better grasp on casting than I do. I would call that irony, though you probably have a better term for it.

Stay Clean!

"...Sunny?"

Comments

[Mix-up]

Nice chapter Hope the Cake's like Fudge.

[Brony of the Revolution]

The subtle horror of this story is gripping. Normally I can't stand stories that center around the bodily and existential horror involved with transforming into a pony, but I really like the way you present it: Not so blantant that it makes me feel too ill to continue, but just enough to keep me uneasy allthroughout, and with enough philosophy peppered in to grease the gears in my brain.