Soft Reset - A Novice Chronomancer's Guide to Tempomancy

by Foxvolt

8 - A Pragmatic Philosophy

A PRAGMATIC PHILOSOPHY

There's a long buildup of mana in my horn, threatening to overflow any moment. I'm casting it properly, I know that, and yet it's kicking and screaming back in my face. There's something interfering, some unknown quantity on an unseen plane sabotaging my progress, I know it, but I'm far too headstrong to let it kill this. I push forward, and the last drops of my wellspring fall to the wayside as I come up just short, unable to contain the catastrophic failure of the spell as it explodes from the tip of my horn, taking the wind from me and slamming me against the ornately-crafted infused walls of my testing chamber. I knock my head against the bricks, and consciousness threatens to leave me as my body reels from the spectacular ranges of pain I'm suddenly experiencing.

I need a moment after that last one.

The residual pain from the Return spell's rather explosive failure is still receding from my horn, and I pumped at least four Vis of mana into that matrix; I'm going to be bone dry for at least twelve hours. Anchored to the Alpha or not, doesn't matter. I haven't been able to produce even a micron of evidence to suggest that Chronomancy is possible in any way but as a glorified time-skip. How many other schools of magic could I have founded in the three years I've been at this? Half a dozen easily, maybe more. And I know what you're thinking, that's an arrogant statement to make, but is it hubris if I'm right?

"From the failure whence I came, here I lay unabashed..." The magical feedback is charging around my skull and through my beard like a telepathic static charge, jumbling my thoughts and forcing me to remain seated in the midst of my scattered and ruined magic circle as I mumble the quiet mantra to myself.

I've made progress, if you can call it that. I've managed micro-hops forward in time, I've even observed desynchronization by use of mechanical timekeeping apparatus. While affixed to myself prior to undergoing a Delay spell (My working title for jumping forward through time,) the hoof-worn timepiece will retain the same state post-spell as it did previous, with a margin of about three to ten seconds of difference which I chalk up to my inexperience honing my reintegration into the timeline, but that will come with time. I'm really wearing that word out these days.

The reason this matters, though, is it means that when a creature travels forward in time they're not just sitting still, or in a statis, or transposed into another state of being. It means they literally cease to exist, dimensionally speaking, until they reintegrate into the timeline. While that has a finite limit dependant on the wellspring of the unicorn casting the spell, it could spell potential ways of cheating the many laws of spellcraft, chief among them being the possibility of suspending matter outside of existence instead of creating or destroying it. Truthfully it's just as good as destroying matter in the short term, and with the added benefit that inorganic material doesn't require delicate reconstruction and thus is incredibly energy efficient with how easily it can be manipulated forward in time. While I can barely manage to bring myself forward an hour, I could send a loaf of fresh bread a month forward with the same energy and it would still be piping hot. A letter could be sent years forward, the only thing keeping me from sending a single grain of sand into effectively limbo is my lack of patience to observe its' upper limit. If I could refine my spellcraft to be even more energy efficient, to somehow relay redundant parts of the spell into cycling the power back into itself, it's not out of the question to think it's possible to send entire hordes of ponies days, maybe even a week ahead! The possibilities are quite literally endless, as are the applications.

Unfortunately, the applications are only as useful as the solutions to its' obvious problem; Rewinding isn't an option, and the ways in which manipulating an object through time affects the caster. Or, more specifically, how it does not. If I were to send a fresh loaf of baked bread one week into the future, when it arrived there it would still be steaming, the exact atomic makeup, the exact state of matter, everything perfectly maintained about it. The only way to send something forward in time while changing it is to specifically take parts of it during the spellweaving and blacklist it from the spell. You could, in theory for example, send a pony forward in time but not with the cancerous growths on their liver, or conversely without their head.

To summarize, I've discovered you can move only forward in time, without changing the state of the matter you're sending, and only as far forward as your wellspring allows. There's a way to return backwards through time, I know there is, but the implications of its' nature are... Disturbing and rigid. Using temporal anchoring points, you can experience alternate branching timelines post-casting and return to the Alpha through... severing your consciousness from the life stream, to put it gently. There are a multitude of easy ways to do this, including cranial euthanatos, casting a recursive Gravitas spell in an enclosed space and jumping into the anomaly summoned therein, jumping off a very high object without a parachute, you get the idea.

"... Let's try this one more time." It's been long enough, I'm ready to see reason and seek the guidance I'm sure that I need. It's what Luna would recommend if she were here. But she's not here, because Celestia banished her to the bucking moon. Sorry, I'm still grappling my feelings on that, I probably will be for a long time. That, and there's a corner of my mind considering that I may not be considering this carefully enough, that my mind is injecting an element of demise into my theoretical spellcraft as a coping mechanism. Self destructive tendencies, as a former colleague had put it. While the Princess is hardly my therapist, she likely wouldn't allow me to pursue a school of magic that quite literally involves suicide as a triggering mechanic unless it was truly grounded in reality. Despite what I've come to think of her, even her dubious plans-within-plans persona of absolute reason does so within the bounds of some personal sense of morality.

I force down a mouthful of pent-up aggression, and it's as bitter going back down as it was welling up.

I'll talk to her, but that doesn't mean I'm going to like it.

--

"For the last time sir, if you wish an audience with-

"And I'm telling you, metal-for-brains, you don't know your Everfree royal insignia from your branchwurm-infested hindlegs! Now step aside before I broil your thick excuse for a mind into miasma broth and serve it to the gargoyles!" I fume, staring sheer, unfiltered death at the stallion between me and Celestia's chambers. I could do it too, incredibly easily. Most of the royal guard in this day and age haven't seen combat past the drunken brawlers of Mare Inette's regulars, they wouldn't stand a chance against a unicorn with proper battle training.

Thankfully, the door opens before either of us begin itching to really test who would prevail in a fight to the death. Just beyond the threshold I see the stoic face of the princess of the Everfree, staring at both the set of guards on either side of the door and myself. There's an undertone of annoyance, but I can't be bothered to psychoanalyze.

"It's quite alright, gentlecolts, Star Swirl is permitted to be here. He is an... Exception to standard procedure. Please stand aside."

They stand aside, obeying their master like the good little ponies they're trained to be. If only they did so before wasting my valuable time. I pass the two of them, crossing the threshold into Celestia's private chambers, closing the door with a subconscious telekinetic shove behind me.

It's dark in here. Though the sun's been down for several hours, the light of the moon was more than enough to see by in the halls. I'm not stranger to dimly lit rooms, but chipping a hoof on a world leader's nightstand isn't high on my bucket list.

"Excuse me, if you would-" I mutter, pausing my advance into the room to summon forth a dancing light from my horn, providing some dim illumination to the place. I immediately wish I hadn't, it looks as if it's been ransacked; Her study has been smashed as if caved in by a rampaging mountain troll, with books and scrolls strewn about the floor surrounding the bed, some neatly stacked and others flung haphazardly against any of the four walls. Lifting a forehoof, I see I'm standing on a large scroll detailing a century-outdated theory of tabula rasa.

"Sweet moon's starlight..." I whisper, taking a deep breath as I process the chaos of the room. It doesn't go unrecognized, as Celestia stops walking across the tragedy to turn her head over her shoulder and call back to me.

"Apologies, I haven't the time nor desire to put everything away as of late, I'm sure you can understand the lack of time a monarch has." Though she says it in a level tone, there's a certain bitterness behind the sentiment. We stare at each other for a moment, and I feel as if I'm failing to divine meaning where I ought to be. Just as good, though, because I'm bitter at her for what I can assume to be similar reasons. If nothing else, we can bond over our bitterness in the scant minutes I plan to intrude.

She turns away and walks out onto the balcony, the only place where I can see more than a few square inches of floor. I decide rather than trying not to tear priceless scrolls as I traverse the treacherous floor I should just teleport instead, and I land softly beside Celestia on the cold stone. She doesn't pay the anomaly any mind though, she's busy staring up at the waning moon as it slowly crawls through the night sky. I follow her gaze, and I take a moment to take in the visage of the night imprinted on the celestial body. Regal, but repentant, head tilted down as if in prayer to some higher power. Surely how it's meant to be portrayed, but it's not a topic I brooch with her. We both know what flimsy working respect we have for one another wouldn't survive the strain of the conversation, and it wouldn't serve any higher purpose past a shouting match she's had with others on public platforms dozens of times in the last couple years.

Perhaps it's more that I realize it wouldn't serve any higher purpose and she simply doesn't see any reason to bring it up, as even an apprentice to the Archemage position holds nearly no political sway in comparison to the now single monarch of the Everfree. She has very little reason to butter me up, and judging by the lack of proximity in which we work with one another it seems she has no intent to either, which suits me just fine.

"What seems to be troubling you, Star Swirl? Speak freely here." She speaks softly, but doesn't lower her gaze from the moon. I find it hard to look away too, but for very different reasons. And so I stand beside her while she sits, both our heads skyward.

"I've hit a standstill with my research. I take it you're versed in Chronomancy as well? I have a potential clue on ways to return to the past, but only through anchor points, and the only way to do so requires severing your consciousness from the beta timeline it develops. Candidly-"

"Suicide as a means of sending yourself back to your Origin Point," she breathes, and there's a dry scoff as she either recites the information or parses it. In typical Celestia fashion, I can't tell if she already knew it was possible or not. I wait patiently for her to continue her thought, but she takes a deep breath and looks down to me, instead seemingly waiting for me to elaborate.

"Simply put, yes. Anypony whom anchors themselves to a point in time will have their consciousness sent back to the point of origin of the beta timeline when their consciousness is severed, effectively giving them knowledge of every life they've ever had in the loop in an instant. I use the term loop because this spell has the potential to be recursive, if allowed to be. I haven't dared to cast it, and I fear for my sanity were I to do so."

I still haven't exactly posed a question in all of this, but the moral scruple is out in the open now. She keeps staring skyward, but I see her eyelids narrow ever so slightly as her mind begins to churn. Some great plan being woven into creation? Or misdirection for the purpose of winning me as a pawn, perhaps?

"Star Swirl, you have a brilliant mind that could propel these ponies through the ages. I fear you are correct though, use of time looping aspects of Chronomancy have lead to the corruption of many minds in the past. It has been banned as a means of imprisonment, it allowed the worst of our societies to effectively 'live' for multiple life sentences in copulation with a complex system of cryptographs' ciphers given piecemeal at set years, few truly benefited from the option. I digress, though. You do not strike me as the kind of pony to shy from risk, so I shall not labor your mind with the fear of possibility." She finally brings her head down from the skies, but continues staring forward, over the small kingdom she'd build together with her sister. Despite the recent unrest and distrust in their governing bodies, everypony seemed to sleep just the same as before the coup. The street performers played and weaved songcraft just the same, mares were made into mothers just as before, and foals dreamed freely and unfiltered of promising futures for their friends and families. Even without Luna's watchful night vigil, life went on.

"You've told me to speak freely and I shall; I wouldn't have interrupted your hours of rest in the midst of my studies if I weren't interested in your qualms. I understand your system of mitigating risk to the public by metering the flow and development of information, and though I disagree I honor your code the same as I promised to with Luna. I presume I have the same leniency with you of self-publishing what I deem appropriate to my peers, but your input at this very moment could be pivotal in whether or not this branch of magic requires the torture of ponies' minds. If there is an alternate solution to this, I beseech you to speak it!" I'm speaking a bit too loudly at the end, but the point is made nonetheless. I stare at her, and she still has her blank slate of a face set to an unreadable null. "For Luna's sake would you at least look me in the eyes this time!?" I shout angrily. She won't give me an answer, she never does. Flattery, guilt, threats of suicide, it never affects her detached, calculated non-responses to my conundrum. Of course it wouldn't, she's employed all the same tactics for thousands of years. It's a game of cards and she's seen every hand before.

"How many?" She asks simply, continuing to stare forward.

I'm absolutely fuming, staring at the white untouchable alicorn in this game of chess for which I'm so beyond outclassed I can't even make the first move without a redo.

"This marks three dozen." I respond, averting my gaze. "What do you want from me, what precisely is it I need to do for you to propel this research? I know what you stand to gain, you know what you stand to gain. Even were it just me to anchor myself and guide the development of magic for the next century, we could propel ourselves into an age of prosperity, an era of enlightenment! I don't understand your hesitation to cultivate this possibility on the grounds of an ethic you've self-imposed for some supposed idealistic sense of-"

"You will be silent!" She stomps a bare hoof into the stone, and the entire castle seems to quake from the force as cracks spiderweb out from the impact. I'm momentarily undeterred, but out of what little respect for the crown I have I pause my angered rant. If for no other reason than for the first time in more loops than I can count, she's looking at me. There's anger, and her forehoof is shaking where she slammed into the stone, but she is looking at me, finally.

She taps her hoof onto the stone, and successfully draws my attention to it. At first I don't see anything save for the cracks running in several directions, but something catches my eye. A ghost of a shadow, a faded rune marking 'lunis' etched into the stonework. My brow furrows and before she can elaborate, I summon a dancing light between us to illuminate the balcony. Sure enough, there's more running off in a circle which she's sat in the very center of.

"A transpositional teleportation matrix, multi-layered, and self-etched. Is this...?" I trail off, and whip my head up to meet her gaze. She stares back, with equal intensity.

"Excellent, it seems you have some good sense in you yet, to not have engaged a crusade after nearly three years without all the facts. There yet remains hope." She stands from the circle, and I'm able to get a good look at it. This is it, this is without a doubt where it happened, where Luna was banished. My fur begins to bristle.

"... The facts, not dissimilar to the fact that you have, etched in literal stone on your balcony, the spell that stole you a kingdom with? The facts that pervade this country wherein the Great Betrayer was slain and our almighty, all-perfect goddess yet graces us with nary a scratch, not a day later with no more than a showpony's display of remorse for her actions?" The words are dripping with venom, and I come to the realization that I've thrown this loop away, it now serves no purpose other than to allow me to vent. It's becoming apparent that I won't get any information out of her either, whether because she somehow knows this isn't the first time we've had this conversation or her stubborn adhesion to her code I don't know.

"You'll crack somehow, I just need to find the right words." I sneer, before hopping up onto the balcony railings, teetering precariously on three hooves. She looks back at the moon, but I'm level with her from this height and I'm finally able to interject myself into her line of sight. I step in front of her, nearly pressing my nose to hers. "Say what you will to yourself, but I won't allow you the satisfaction of poisoning my mind with your half-truths and unfulfilled promises. You will be held accountable for this." I stare into her eyes, but she's just staring through me as if I weren't even there.

Enough self-indulgence, I need to get back to work. I feel a rising gust picking up, and I lean backwards into it until a hind hoof is carried over the edge, and I begin to fall. There's a split second of vertigo as my body rebels against my suicidal impulse, but it's stunted as a golden aura of absolute kinetic stillness envelopes me.

"We're going to play this game? Wonderful, I've been meaning to tes-"

"Luna banished herself. Surely I've told you this before, likely in your first loop. You need to let this rest, you will find no fuel for your conspiracy-fuelled tangent. And when you don't, you will succumb to madness as you fear." She talks out into the open air, as if addressing the moon itself. For a moment I'm taken aback, but I know better than to let her words overtake me. I won't become another thrall to her ambitions, not so easily. I'll burn her empire to the ground if I have to, even if-

The golden aura blinks out of existence, and the rising winds carry me over the edge of the balcony and tumbling down the elevated hill below. Mercifully, by the time I roll all the way down to the bottom of it I've cast a powerful aphroditic to mask the mortal pain to follow, and I'm left a moment or two to simmer in my spite as I bleed out on the edge of the royal garden beneath Celestia's tower, staining the ground of her sunflower bed a crimson red. I hope this timeline persists after I'm gone, I would love nothing more than for this iteration of Celestia to be forced to live on. The idea amplifies the fluttery feeling rising in my stomach, and I get a wicked idea for an incantation.

My horn glows a light azure, similar to my Luna's, and I mutter a passcode to Tartarus. It's a close time limit as my body begins growing cold, but within seconds I see Celestia's balcony explode in golden light as she rockets off into the sky overhead, probably towards the Tantabus I've just unleashed into the city. That should be a sufficient enough alteration to the timeline for it to stick around. What a wonderful idea, that felt truly cathartic...

But all too suddenly the blissful feeling of satisfaction and artificial euphoria ebbs into nothing, and I feel a sudden painful blast carrying me off my hooves, leading to a familiar pain as I knock my head against the stone walls of my testing chamber. I slump down onto the floor, crawling back to the center of my broken magic circle.

"From the failure whence I came, here I lay unabashed..."

Life 37, I've got a good feeling about this one.

- - - -

"I- I need a moment-" I stutter, a slew of emotions ranging from fear to confusion swirling around my mind as my fillyhood hero details the many temporal and gruesome mechanics of his spellcraft. It's overwhelming given the situation, and I just need him to give me a moment to process all of this.

We're in the Ponyville Library, of all places. There's no way that it's actually the library, I know that, but that doesn't need explanation. Through complex layers of illusion magic, he's created a small space in which I'm perceiving our surroundings as if it were home. It's likely meant to help me root myself quicker and avoid a sense of sensory overload after the jarring consecutive events that have been happening to me in tandem, not the least of which is being thrown across Celestia-knows-how-long portals to unknown pocket dimensions after witnessing my stalker being executed willingly by Star Swirl the Bearded right in front of me.

Not the time, Twilight. Steady breaths, I need to stay calm and composed right now. I look up at the pony across from me, and he's waiting patiently to continue detailing how he began the usurping of the Everfree Throne on loop 0,302 (He specifies the zero in the thousandths place, which I find deeply concerning considering only hundreds in he's detailing treason and blasphemy of the highest order.) It's become apparent now why the princess told me Star Swirl had gone mad in his last years before his disappearance.

"So, let me get this straight," I begin, giving him a stern looking-over as I try in vain to keep the bias out of my voice. "You inadvertently set yourself on an inescapable time loop, and used that power to attempt to seize the throne in a political coup against the Princess, in the name of knowledge?" I summarize the last ten minutes fairly candidly, and he nods his approval in return.

"And failed, you'd be happy to know, though it seems that's another point not worth going into detail over. After all, here we are," He waves a hoof widely around him, but it's clear he's not talking about the pocket dimension. If he had succeeded, Equestria would be a very different place, likely a magocratic dystopia. I keep my tongue in cheek for that thought, but with the near mania he describes his actions over his hundreds of lifetimes I wonder if voicing that concern would even faze him. Something he just said does faze me, though.

"What makes you think I'm happy you failed? I mean, obviously I don't believe what you were trying to do was right for a LOT of reasons, but you make it sound like I have some personal investment in a millennia-old dispute between you and Celestia."

"How would you feel if I told you I killed your mentor, dethroned her legacy and denied her even a grave?"

My chest tightens up immediately, and I'm not sure if I want to attack him or revisit my hospital food.

"That's what I thought." He shakes his head with a scoff, turning to observe nothing in particular while I reel in my instinctual response. "She's kept you close, closer than any other disciple she's ever had. She wants you to feel important to her, as if you're an integral part of her existence. Her mission of you to report directly to her through dragon mail reinforces the surrogate-parent relationship she's instilled and groomed in you since foalhood. You look up to her as a mentor, a second mother, and a confidant. You know they're all only half-truths, but it's enough to instill an absolute loyalty to her. She gives you everything you've ever needed, and she only asks for your all in return." He canters over to the illusory kitchen, leaning low and nudging open a cabinet with his nose. He spots something inside and leans forward, struggling to tug it free with his teeth.

"Oh, careful, they get stuck under the-" There's a loud CRASHing of several cast-iron pans and skillets as he rips a bag of pre-shaped hay fries from beneath the mountain of cookingware, bringing it all tumbling to the ground.

"Oh no, SPI-" I call out automatically, and the name catches in my throat. A breath stalls out in my chest as I consider him sitting in the field in the middle of the Everfree, next to a raging Luna after watching me blink out of existence next to a dead pegasus mare.

"Your young dragon will be fine, if that's what you're worried about. He's not here, this space is only a manifestation of our shared consciousness." He arcs the bag into the air with an under-hoof toss, and it thuds onto the countertop where he begins to pull them out by hoof. He kicks up a mid-size skillet and sets it onto the stovetop behind him, dropping a batch in and preparing them without any oil.

His words don't assuage my concerns, but it's enough to look past them for the time being.

"Why am I here? What's your goal in all of this, if it's not usurping the princess?" I press, pulling up a stool to sit across the countertop from him, but I decide at the last moment to remain standing instead.

"Oh, it is. I'm not entirely sold on the line of thought that you may be the key to it yet, but you are undeniably the most important piece in Celestia's master contingencies. It's my hope that you'll see reason and find the heart to at least not stop me in my pursuit." He turns the heat up, and there's no familiar sizzle as the skillet warms from beneath. There's still time to salvage it, the oil is in the cabinet just above his head.

"That's an asinine master plan, especially for a unicorn as brilliant as you. You don't really expect me to believe that if this talk doesn't go well that you'll just let me walk out of here, do you? How do you think this looks from my perspective, from anypony's?" I stare at the back of his head, and the graying deep green strands of his mane sway back and forth as he bites at the handle, keeping the heat distribution uniform among the fries.

"Well for starters, the term 'here' isn't quite appropriate. We're in my office right now, though this entire subjective experience will have happened nearly instantly once one of us wills it to be over. As to your freedom of choice and my reaction to it, you're correct in that I cannot let you leave if you harbor intent to actively halt my progress. I was hoping that as an academic first and foremost you'd be willing to see reason, though; Find middle ground as some arbiters say." The fries are beginning to brown, and he finally opens the cupboard above him, but just when his hoof passes in front of the olive oil, it darts past and produces a small shaker of cayenne pepper. We don't have cayenne pepper in our kitchen. "And to be frank, Twilight Sparkle, I do not care much for a commonpony's perspective to this situation. Were the masses' perspectives to decide the fate of Equestria, it would have been in ruin centuries ago. Though I digress, debate on governmental preferences is far beyond the scope of simple Chronomancy."

I shake my head, not sure where the blurred line on what I agree and disagree with him lies. There's some truth to that, but there's a lot of arrogance too.

"You don't believe that there's anything to be learned from listening to what other ponies have to say? Nopony knows everything, Star Swirl, not even Star Swirl. Ever since I came to Ponyville I-"

"Yes, yes, friendship and understanding, true happiness, trust me little pony I've heard it all before." He scoffs again, but he does pause what he's doing to glance over his shoulder at me, and he gives me an appraising look. I'm trying to keep a neutral look to not upset him, but the truth is I think there's something more concerning going on in my head. He's so absorbed in his own perspective of the world, he's completely oblivious to alternatives. He's alienated his consciousness, hyper-fixating on his frantic pursuit of knowledge and developing his spellcraft. That look all the fillies gave me as I walked on by them in Canterlot, that my parents gave me when I found another excuse to stay home instead of attending another of my classmate's cute-ceañera parties, that's the look that I'm certain is slipping through the cracks. I always hated when everypony gave me that look, because they just didn't understand the value of my time exceeded those silly things, that they weren't necessary. Looking at him, I'm looking at myself. And I'm scared of what I'm seeing.

We share a long look at each other, and I open my mouth to say something, anything to try and bring the tension out of it, but I come up short. It's an unwinnable hand he's giving me, he doesn't want me to comfort him, and I don't think I could bring myself to even if I thought it would help. He knows my life inside and out, it's basically a spectacle for anypony half-heartedly curious. The intimate details of my connection with my friends, the good that's come of it, he's likely either observed first-hoof or had reports handed to him from confidential sources. There's nothing I can tell him that's going to change his mind, it took Celestia herself to move the heavens and Equus to get me out of the Canterlot library for the one-in-a-thousand chance I met the others. Star Swirl doesn't have a Celestia, in fact it seems he abhors the idea of one. What can you do for a pony like that?

He pulls away from the silent argument, and in a smooth motion with his head and neck he empties the contents of the skillet onto a small stretch of paper towel. The hay-fries are a perfect golden-brown, with small red specs of cayenne dotting them. Surprisingly they're not stuck to the pan at all, and without the oil coating them there's no greasy layer of insulation coating either them or the cookware. Maybe his method of cooking has merits for him. There's no cleanup, the fries don't get attached, and he gets the meal he's looking for. But that doesn't mean it's the only way to cook hay fries.

"When Princess Luna caught me up on your relationship, as your mentor, she seemed... She said you were a prodigy, that you could have propelled both magic and science through the ages. Even in the decades before you disappeared- sorry- before you began your..." I stop myself from using the word crusade, but I don't have much of a better word for it, so I just skip a few words ahead. He doesn't seem to mind as he helps himself to some of his hay fries. "I just mean, imagine where we could be now! You might have brought pony society into a golden age if she was right, you made so many breakthroughs in half a lifetime that you're literally immortalized in legend despite what you did! Do you mean to tell me that all that you could accomplish in the confines of one lifetime still aren't enough?"

"Not particularly, no. In addition to my spite-fueled rage against the machine, a longing for a similar relationship to the one you have with your mentor, the greed for an indeterminate lifespan, and knowledge of the olden ages, my arrogance and self-importance blinds me to what could be if I had just shut up and died at the peaceful, ripe age of two hundred after making my contributions and living happily surrounded by friends and family. Is that where you were hoping to go with this?"

"No, that's not at all what I meant!" It's kind of exactly where I was going with that, just... You know, not as condescending, maybe? "Okay, it's kind of what I meant, but do you really think this is okay? That pegasus sounded like she revered you, and she was willing to-" The next word gets stuck in my throat again, and I have to blink away a suffocating feeling before I can continue. Star Swirl pops another fry in his mouth, studying the interweaving strips of potato diminishing before him. "I was like that, not just to Celestia. I put you on a pedestal, too. Don't you think that you're abusing that same relationship that you're denouncing the Princess of weaponizing?"

"Two wrongs don't make a right, Twilight, but three lefts do. I'm aware of the hypocrisy. I've changed my stance on several matters far more ethically-challenging than riding the coattails of my own legacy in order to recruit devotees to my cause. If I'm to have any chance of achieving my goal within the confines of my lifespan, I must innovate and pursue imaginative solutions. Pragmatic approaches to difficult problems often require moral sacrifice, and I've come to terms with that even if the rest of society has not."

"So that's the precedent you want to set for your perfect magocratic golden society? Pursue knowledge at any cost necessary, blazing earth style? Pragmatism is just a fancy way of masking your unethical decisions, you see that, right? Ponies are happy, even if you or I don't agree with how we got here, we did get here! Maybe it's not what you wanted, but in the thousand years you've been plotting against Celestia, did you ever think to stop and give it a try, to enjoy what you have instead of risking it all for what you wanted?"

Another hay fry down, only a few left now. He only chews for a moment before swallowing, and the next one's quick to follow.

"First off, I never so much as implied a magocratic system of governance, so kindly see past your villainization of my methods and review what you know to be true before making assertions. Second off, I've risked nothing that was not within my authority to do so. Never once have I endangered anypony whom did not implicate themselves. I could reign hell on this nation if my desire was solely plotting against that sun-wielding bitch, but my intention lies in the best interests of the society she manipulates and claims to shield from undesirable truths, such as myself for example." I feel my chest tighten up a bit as he slanders my teacher's name, but I stay quiet. He'd have a field day about 'brainwashing' and 'grooming' if I interrupted him over something that petty.

He continues his rant, waving a fry through the air and pointing it at me accusatorially for emphasis. "And lastly, what I desire isn't of importance in the grand scheme of my goals. What I desire has always been a teleport away, at times even within literal reach. My goal is what requires patience, spellcraft, and discipline, not my wants, as you put it."

I know he's wrong, but the absolute confidence he has in this keeps throwing me off. I can't imagine how many times he's had this exact argument, how many ponies he's had this conversation with time and time again to have all of his responses so readily scripted, casual enough to be almost disinterested.

"Just because you're making sacrifices for what you believe in doesn't make what you believe in right." is the response I finally come to. It's a truth I refused to come to terms with for years. I was becoming more well-read every day, at the rate I was going I could have even aimed for the unclaimed prestigious title of archmage by my late twenties, a title vacant since the pony in front of me himself disappeared over a thousand years ago, and even then it was only granted posthumously. Despite all the lonely nights and personal sacrifices I made in pursuit of that greatness, knowing what I do now, I would never abandon the friends and experiences I've made. I was living my entire life predicated on a lie I'd spun into my own truth, justifying it to myself for myself. Maybe that's the key to get this stubborn old unicorn in front of me to see reason, maybe there's a reason fate put me in front of him. Maybe... He just needs a friend?

He laughs in my face, and the tiny spark of understanding I was beginning to kindle is doused, stomped into the dirt, and buried.

"Ha! Of course it doesn't, I never said it did, but that really is golden, Twilight Sparkle. Allow me to put something to rest for you, and I will do so in a manner that is direct and brutal so that there can be no room for misinterpretation." He levels a fry at me, and there's an almost playful look of amusement as he crushes my hope of helping him. "You and I are not the same. Similar, perhaps, in some ways, though not the same. Perhaps you believe my ambitions are lofty or unethical, but deep down you know they're sensible, you just can't bring yourself to agree to them because if you did, you'd be a bad pony. You feel the desire- the requirement- to defend status quo, because any alternative surely isn't worth dying for, not worth killing for. Any alternative isn't worth the evils it entails. But you know you're wrong, you know you've found solace in believing you're above it, so that you can sleep at night knowing your every move is a calculated one on that soulless bit-"

I slap him. Hard. I'm not a violent mare, but for the first time in my life I can't contain the anger and frustration of listening to his nonsensical ranting, the insults, the delusions. The impact stings on my hoof, and he blinks a few times, processing what just happened. Neither of us move or say anything for a few moments, and I let my hoof slowly fall onto the counter as I let my body shake out the anger. He rubs at his cheek, but he's staring at the ground with an unreadable expression.

"When a pony can't understand something, violence is often a first reaction." He mutters, and he looks up at me. I'm taken aback though, when I see he's actually sad- no, disappointed. The weight of what I just did dawns on me, I've made it clear I'm no more willing to put forth the effort of understanding his situation than anypony else, that I'm only trying to win him over to my side because it's clearly the only right one. I asked him to consider things from my perspective, but just like him, I just assumed that he was wrong and I was right. And when I was being forced to confront that...

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I really thought you might have understood. Pragmatic, Twilight. If nothing else, please, just... Keep that word in mind when it comes time to decide where your loyalties lie." And just like that, he blinks out of existence. I'm suddenly alone in this illusory library, left to stare down at my stinging hoof and accept the possibility that I might just be a bad pony after all.

Comments

[EggBaguette]

smack

[Aschtb]

so, im out. but i wonder if she gets the point of 'everybody is the asshole' that this could be leading to.