Prologue - Thief
A smile. That's what all of the guards and dignitaries noticed as they escorted this strange brown pony down the hallways of the Canterlot Asylum for the Mentally Unstable. The stallion in question had been quite a topic of discussion from those who oversaw the inhabitants. They knew he was in there; they had just tried everything they could think of.
Well, almost everything. There was still one more thing to try to pull his mind out of whatever pasture it now resided in. His mind was a terrible thing to waste, and they didn’t want him to simply waste away with all of the other inhabitants.
He was dragged quietly down the hallway, crazy ponies yelling at him as he went by with a genuine smile on his face. He didn't seem to mind being pulled over the filthy, damp floor, nor did he seem to mind the other ponies yelling obscenities and incoherencies at him. He was the happiest stallion in the world, and nopony would ever be able to take that away from him.
Finally, the end of the long hallway was reached. The guard ponies unlocked a door to allow the uncannily content stallion through, and when he didn't move, they booted him through. He landed face-first on the ground, the guard ponies picking him back up and dusting him off. Still, the smile never left his face.
In the room was nothing but a chair with metal cuffs for holding ponies down and a pair of metal rods welded into a pincer shape. At the ends of the rods were affixed two white balls.
The guards seated the brown pony and affixed the strange contraption on each side of the pony’s head, securing the cuffs around his hooves and then departing from the room. Several minutes passed. The stallion continued to find happiness even in the chair he would depart this world in.
The metal pincer was attached via a cable to a large white box with a dial on it. A single guard stood next to the machine, absently putting his hoof into the pocket of his uniform briefly to heft around the small bag of bits given to him by a noble with nothing more than a nod and a promise.
Then he reached up and turned the dial all the way to its right. He hoped the doctor would notice first... but he’d earned his keep now. He didn't question the motives of the pony who'd handed him the bag. His hoof fell back to the floor and he joined his fellow guards as they filed out of the room.
Shortly after, a dark blue pony with a white lab coat and a very serious look walked in, grimacing as he saw the brown stallion with a large smile. “They don't pay me enough for this... zapping happy ponies now?” he muttered to himself.
The doctor seemed efficient, to say the least. He immediately walked to the lever and flipped it down. His eyes then registered that the dial was turned to a number that screamed “LETHAL” in his head. Massive amounts of voltage began coursing through the metal rods and directly into the head of the brown pony.
Suddenly shocked back to reality, the brown stallion noticed his situation and that he was going to die briefly, before even that world disappeared and he found the coursing lightning in his brain bringing back memories of the past.
“Get back here, you damn whelps!” A baker chased several laughing children out of his shop, several stolen loaves gripped in their teeth as they made their escape. It was a dark, moody night in Canterlot, rain washing the dirt and grime that had built up in the streets away and giving the hopeful residents of the lower class a much-needed bath.
The yellow lights looked distorted out of the window of the small, simple house that a young colt was watching outside from. The young, bright red pony stared in wonder at the windowpane and watched the water stick to it, wondering how it could ever be on something as smooth as glass. Reaching out his hoof to touch the window, he drew it back with shock when he realized it had gotten damp, too. The water came through the window?
Suddenly, something caught his attention outside. His interest in the water on his hoof was forgotten as he saw three pegasus guards swoop in from the sky and knock the three children down, their bread tumbling out of their mouths and onto the wet cobblestone. The guards then picked up the three children and disappeared.
His mother, hearing the commotion, exclaimed, “Oh, Cottontooth, get away from there!” and pulled him away from the window. “Celestia's guard is only doing their duty, you shouldn't need to worry about those little ruffians anymore!”
“Ms. Light, your son has what we call—well, he's the first we've found with it—that is to say, we're not really sure how to handle—“
“Just hoofing tell me already!” His mother stared at the doctor pony standing in front of her, daring him to stop talking and walk away.
“Your colt has an incredible mind. He can affect the environment around him with it. We've never seen anything quite like it.” The doctor looked admiringly at Cottontooth. “We'd very much like to study this phenomenon.”
“No.” She stated it quickly, plainly. “You will not take my son away from me for even a single instant.” She pushed the cyan curls out of her eyes and continued to stare. “Forget you know anything about my son, or you will regret it.”
“... Yes, Ms. Light. The offer will stay open as long as that colt still breathes. He is a marvel of the field of psychology.”
Cottontooth stumbled down one of the streets of Canterlot. He ran right into a dirty mare, who squealed at her equally as dirty coltfriend. The coltfriend spun around and bucked at Cottontooth, catching him square in the side and flinging him into a wall. “Filthy little orphan! Why can't the guards take care of these stupid kids? They have no respect for anypony, they run right into us, and they steal way too much food. They belong in the gutter!” The mare beamed at him, and they walked off together, muttering sweet nothings to each other as Cottontooth lay bleeding at the base of the wall.
He managed to stand shakily on his hooves, limping his way to the nearest shop and asking to use the restroom. Once there, he cleaned his wound as best he could with the water they provided, and bound it loosely with toilet paper. It would slow the bleeding, if not stop it, as long as he didn't exacerbate it.
He walked out of the butcher shop he'd dashed into, favoring his bucked side and wandering aimlessly down the street once again. At least his mother had taught him that much about survival. Canterlot was truly an unforgiving place for orphans.
He found his way to a nice little alley that seemed blessedly empty of ponies selling illegal things to other ponies, or the other ponies who took the illegal things and would act just plain crazy. He crawled under one of the bigger dumpsters and curled into a little ball.
Cottontooth dashed around the corner as he made off with a loaf of bread. The baker was coughing and wheezing behind him, shouting, “Thief! Thief! Guards, somepony! Catch that little thief!”
Cottontooth smiled to himself. It looked like he would actually eat for the first time in a week tonight.
No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than he saw a shadow loom over him. He reacted instantly, knowing from experience and observation how to dodge this, and flung himself backward, the pegasus guard thumping to the ground several feet in front of him and turning toward him. Cottontooth took off in the opposite direction, slipping between the legs of the stunned baker and dashing around the corner.
The pegasus guard rounded the corner a few seconds later, expecting to see the young orphan dashing as quickly as he could. Instead, the tall, proud stallion saw nothing.
Cottontooth allowed himself a tiny victory smile as he descended the ladder into the sewer. The guards never looked for orphans here. Maybe it was because they didn't like the smell, or because they never looked down until some snooty upper-crust pony was squealing about a less fortunate colt trying his best to survive. Whatever it was, Cottontooth knew he was safe.
He finished going down the ladder, taking a satisfied bite out of his bread and chewing contentedly. He heard a hoofstep next to him, and dodged to the side, a bat narrowly missing him. The unicorn mare that had swung it cursed and readied it again. Cottontooth turned toward her, growling, “What do you want?”
“Bread. I'm hungry.”
“Sure, just put the bat down.”
The mare eyed him. “Why don't I just kill you and take all of it? I don't need to share.”
“Because we're both ponies. Shouldn't that mean anything?”
The unicorn shrugged. “Long as I'm alive, I don't care about any other pony.” She swung the bat at Cottontooth again, and he narrowly dodged it by jumping backward, then he lunged unexpectedly forward, knocking the mare flat on her rump and bowling her over. He ended up standing over her and pinning her to the floor. She coughed and said, “No... not like this....” Cottontooth picked up her bat in his teeth and knocked her over the head with it.
A few minutes later, Cottontooth was leaving the sewer, an unconscious mare and an abandoned loaf of bread with a bite taken out of it lying forlornly together. It appeared he wasn't eating tonight.
He rifled through what felt like the tenth dumpster tonight, looking for something to soothe his rumbling stomach. Cottontooth hadn't eaten in several days, but he was bigger now, and it made him hungrier.
He shook out his bright red coat of the stinking refuse he'd been diving through for a good portion of the night, resolved to check only one more dumpster before calling it quits. He was slowly making his way toward the better-policed section of town, explaining why these dumpsters had so little in them. The higher his risk, the more chance he had of finding food, but the more chance he had of being caught. This had gotten risky enough. Just one more.
He dove into his final dumpster, immediately thankful that he had. He found his face lying in a fistful of pasta, immediately opening his mouth and munching the tasty, starchy food. His stomach screamed thanks at him as it immediately went to work digesting. He dove into the rest of the dumpster, seeking out any more tasty morsels of food. He found some half-eaten basket bread, eating three of the loaves and stuffing seven more into a little satchel he carried on his side. This was getting luckier and luckier.
Just then, he heard hoofsteps outside his dumpster, loud and obvious. How had he not heard the guard approaching? He cursed himself for letting his guard down. His rump was still sticking out of the dumpster, but there was no way he could move now, so he decided he would play dead and hope the guard was new.
The guard began stabbing his spear into the trash, slowly noticing the pony's flank being exposed to him. “Eeeuuugh, there's a dead pony in here.” He poked Cottontooth in the rump with his spear, and Cottontooth couldn't help but twitch as blood began to trickle out of the puncture wound he'd just gained due to his stupidity.
The guard exclaimed, “Oh, this one's still alive!” He reached his hooves in to drag Cottontooth out of the dumpster, and as he pulled, Cottontooth waited until he knew he was within range, then bucked as hard as he could and hit the guard full in the face with his hind legs. The guard shouted in outrage, blood immediately pouring out of his face and gaining the attention of several of the other dumpster guards. They immediately began running toward the dumpster.
Cottontooth jumped onto the guard's head, forcing it down into the dumpster and giving him a glimmer of satisfaction before he vaulted off and ran into the night. The guards gave chase, but they were no match for an orphan who'd lived these streets all his life. Cottontooth simply melted into the night and escaped with his prime payload of several loaves of bread.
He decided he would drop off one of the loaves with his mare friend in the sewer. He did it whenever he had some extra food, and she was always really happy when he did. She was the only friend he'd ever had, and he didn't even know her name, nor did she know his.
He went to the usual grate, letting himself down as he always did. As he scaled down the ladder, he became aware of the unusual silence. Normally, she would have said hi by now, but he heard nothing. He finally made it to the bottom and turned around, instantly realizing why things were so quiet.
The mare couldn't talk. She no longer had a mouth. Or a head, really. It was all smashed up, and he couldn't even recognize her, but he knew it was her. Lying next to her dark green body was a bloodied baseball bat.
Cottontooth immediately turned back around and left the sewer again. The blood looked fresh; whoever it was, they would probably be back soon. He'd heard rumors about cannibal ponies that were moving into the sewers and attacking the orphans that tried to escape using them... but he was hoping that it was just a rumor. He wasn't going to stick around to find out if it was true or not.
Later that night, he lay curled up under some soggy newspaper and wept. His only friend was gone, and he was all alone again. He cried and wept and vented his sorrow to the world.
Which is why he didn't notice the mare approaching until she touched her hoof on his shoulder. He gasped in shock, scrambling away from the offender until he realized she was standing in a streetlight, and no intelligent murderer would reveal themselves so stupidly. Who was this mare?
She had a lavender-colored body and cyan curls that she had to push out of her face. She looked... just like his mother. But the face was different. It wasn't mom's face; it was that of a very pretty young mare around his age. He stared at her, wide-eyed, lost for words in her stunning beauty.
“Ah, a stallion who likes me!” she exclaimed. Cottontooth instantly averted his gaze, but this only made the mare giggle. She had such a pretty laugh. “It's all right, I don't mind if you look. I am here for you, after all.”
Cottontooth stared at this mystery mare, confused. “For... me? Did I do something wrong?”
The mare smiled kindly at him. “Nope! Quite the opposite, actually! I'm here to be your friend, Cottontooth.” He only stared incredulously at her, earning him another giggle from the beautiful lavender pony in front of him. She gave another beautiful smile after her little laughing fit, and his heart swelled with hope for the first time since he could remember.
The lavender mare trotted out of the sweets shop with a few hard candies in a bag. She tossed them to Cottontooth, who exclaimed happily over them, his bright red coat shining as he tore open the bag and took one of the candies in the mouth and began trying to chew on it.
She chuckled. “Silly foal, didn't your mother ever teach you to let them sit in your mouth?” Cottontooth shook his head as he continued trying to bite through the hard candy, earning yet another chuckle from her. It was like medicine to him.
The lavender pony suddenly got very serious. She looked straight at him. “Cottontooth, we've been partners in crime for a few days now. It's obvious that I know your name, but I still don't have one. What do you want to call me?”
Cottontooth looked up thoughtfully. “Well, you're just so mysterious! It's tough to decide on a name that fits you!”
The mare suddenly looked up in thought. “Here, I just thought of this:
That mysterious mystery mare,
Who came to ease the load you bear,
Thinks that it's really pretty lame,
That you haven't come up with a name.
If you don't decide soon,
How about... this afternoon,
Then you'll really get to see,
The darker side of little old me.
Who am I?”
“Enigma.”
“Pardon?” The lavender pony looked at Cottontooth expectantly. “What was that you said?”
“Enigma,” Cottontooth repeated. “That's your name!”
The mare scrunched her face up in distaste. “Oh, where's the originality, you silly stallion! Why not something better, like Pandora?”
Cottontooth smiled. “I like Pandora, too.”
The mare immediately waved her hooves in disagreement. “Oh, no no no! I like it! That was just a joke. My name from now on is Enigma.” She smiled encouragingly at him. “Cottontooth and Enigma: Partners in crime!”
The crimson stallion sighed. He'd been with Enigma for years now, and he still wasn't able to touch her. No matter how much he wanted her to be there, she could touch everything but other ponies. He wanted to reach out to her and show her that he was there, but she was more alone than he was.
Nopony could see her, either... except him, of course. This couldn't be making her happy. She was isolated from every other pony in existence... and Cottontooth was only isolated from her. If he could touch her, he knew he would be eternally happy, but he knew that couldn't happen. She was just his imagination, after all. He needed a pony friend, and she came just that easily.
Cottontooth was trying not to fool himself. These were his happiest moments, but he knew they wouldn't last forever. He had to let Enigma go, or he would get too attached and he'd lose himself in trying to get closer to her.
He decided he would talk to her about it the next time he saw her. Canterlot wasn't his city anymore, anyway; he needed to leave. This was no way to survive. He and Enigma had managed to save up enough money to move away... no, he had managed to save it up himself. Enigma was just a part of his mind.
She trotted into the home later that night, and Cottontooth sighed unhappily. Enigma said, “I know. I need to go away.”
Cottontooth looked at her, shocked. “How did you know?”
Enigma looked at him sadly and smiled. “I'm a part of your mind, remember?”
Cottontooth tore his gaze away from the destitute mare he loved. “I have no choice, Enigma. I can't survive like this. I'm not happy. I need to leave everything behind. Everything.”
Enigma only nodded sadly. Cottontooth frowned and said, “I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. Don't follow me, and don't remember me. I'll make sure you're still alive, but if you follow me to where I'm going, I swear I will forget you ever existed.
Enigma only intended to follow one of the orders Cottontooth gave her. She would forget him, but she was going to make sure she followed him. Starting things over new with the stallion she loved was infinitely better than remembering him and never seeing him again.
That night, as she walked through ponies' dreams, she packed her belongings up in the home she'd managed to earn and prepared to bring them with her for the day after next. She woke to find Cottontooth lying by her side, touching her. She shivered. If only he could feel this touch as well... but the moment he woke up, his hoof would pass right through her. She decided not to disturb him on this morning.
That night, she packed her belongings on the train, checking in at the ticket office and departing for Ponyville. Cottontooth had never told her where he was going, but she simply knew certain things. She noticed a very irate stallion with three large bags and an upturned nose arguing with the ticket clerk about his being on the train. The clerk shrugged and apologized, disappearing around the corner as the train departed. Enigma curled up on a train seat and waited for her life to start over in Ponyville.
Cottontooth's departure was a somber one. Enigma said goodbye, Cottontooth said goodbye, and then he got on the train. Enigma waited on the platform, waving at him until the train doors closed, then disappearing further down the train as she closed her eyes and passed through the closed train door. Easier than stealing from the Canterlot nobility. She curled up on the same seat and waited on the same journey. Eventually, sleep overtook her, and she remembered nothing.
For those of you who have already read the final chapter, I updated the ending to provide more closure. After I figured out how the story began, I had to add more to make it properly end.
This is the first and final chapter of The Pony That Never Was. To those who read the prologue last out of this story, thanks for going on this journey with me. To those who read it first, you got the cheat sheet!
--Scootareader
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1819287 Background Pony! And Groundhog Day!
1977684
True. Nothing is darker than Background Pony.
2538377
For your information, this is the first fic I ever wrote. I also will only solve that riddle if you pay me.
Ouch...this little comment stings especially knowing what will happen in the story later on...ah well. I read this chapter last so no cheat sheet for me.
As for the 'figment of his imagination' idea...well Cottontooth was happy in the end. Should I feel bad about this? He lost reality but there are certain times where that is not the biggest loss. Reality is what you make it up to be. If you only care about yourself and your experiences, your thoughts and insights are basically all that is important. Sure there are other ponies but if you can literally create another pony out of your mind, together with a whole world?
The only thing that could have saved Cottontooth would have been a good friend from reality. Since he had nopony special to him - even Twilight had said no - he decided to go with his dream.
It was somewhat ironic and poetic at the same time when he kissed Enigma. He got all he ever wanted and still lost everything. I honestly must say that this story was really good, a lot better than I expected it to be.
2539039
I know that it is. I just found it funny how much you wrote about liking 'The hollow kingdom of Big Macintosh' and then I read - in your first story too! - that you included him as somewhat of an important character.
For the riddle: It's a simple mind game and you want to get paid? Cheapskate students...
Besides, the riddle is complete with this comment here. Think on it and have fun figuring it out (if you didn't already). It has to do with your story, so you have all the needed clues too.
As for payment...well, there is this little story you want to write in the future, yes? Something with Derpy? Consider this your payment: I will give my all with this story and will try to do my best with it. It will maybe take a bit longer this way but a well thought out story captures more interest than a medicore one any time of the day. Of course I only do that if you manage to beat my hard *cough*lies*cough* riddle.
Wow, this is the quite the Shaggy Dog story if I do say so myself. The entire time I was rooting for Enigma to be remembered, and Cottontooth to just, I dunno... go do something else? I didn't really care about him all that much.
I don't understand how this story has so few likes, sure it felt a bit rushed at times, and the scene transitions could be better executed(I was confused as to how we got from point A to point B a few times), also the ending was maddening
, but the concept was well thought out and, in my opinion, pretty original. It wasn't at all what I expected it to be when I came into it, but I'm not leaving disappointed. This story was absolutely brilliant. Good job, mate. 
3552841
Thanks! Considering this is the first story I've ever written, that means a lot. Also, thanks for the constructive criticism; I like to improve my writing!
3654418
Glad you liked it! It's my favorite story to have written so far.
It's such an amazing story I don't know what to say other than thanks for writing this.
3725648
I do my best. I only hope any other story I write will even hold a candle to how you felt about this one.
3729538 The ending is profoundly stupid. Mental Health hospitals don't execute people.
Even if the system was so profoundly corrupt as to have people killed simply for "wasting resources", they wouldn't do it in the form of a formal execution. For someone to be sentenced to death that requires both committing a capital crime, and the capability to understand the punishment. There is simply no way to go from "he's a vegetable" to "here's his execution warrant". If he were killed at all, it would be in secret. They sure as hell wouldn't have an execution chamber.
This isn't even taking Celestia into account. She's essentially the avatar of good, and has Shepard her people to such an extent that they have no concept of war, only foodfights.
You seriously think Celestia would allow something like Action T4 to exist? A happy magic horse land of peace, where kindness and generosity are observable scientific principles, and you expect the writer to accept they'd nonchalantly duplicate the atrocities of one of the worst periods of human history? This side of their society isn't even written as if it's important, merely as if it's something you threw in as an afterthought.
This is both insulting to the reader, and to the source material. A contradiction so large it cannot be accepted.
3744535
Considering it seems you read to the end, I thank you for at least reading my story all the way through.
My decision to have Cottontooth "executed" at the end is partially due to this being the first story I've ever written and my unwillingness to change what has been made, and partially due to us knowing so little about the justice system in Equestria.
Tell me: Where are all the murderers, the vegetables, the serious lawbreakers in Equestria? The ponies sure seem to have very human traits and fallibilities; yet, there are none who do any real crimes.
Sure, yeah, it's a little girl's show; I write dark, though, so I consider things such as this.
Lethal injection may have been a more likely way to kill him, in retrospect. They didn't want to let him starve to death, because several of the nobles wouldn't want to have a suffering pony on their conscience, especially one with such an exceptional mind. Best to get it done in the most efficient way possible.
It's not like they wrote on the banners of Canterlot "Execution Today: Be There or Be Square." This would have been a very subdued affair, and Celestia would have never caught wind of it. I imagine it to be something akin to the nobles complaining about the high cost of running a "charitable" place such as the mental hospital, noticing that there is a pony who is unresponsive and still consuming resources, and complaining to the warden or other official who makes financial/patient decisions in the hospital, who told the nobles, "We'll take care of it."
So, much as I understand the desire for Equestria to be the wonderful place we all want it to be, the machinations of my mind consider the darker side that is part of being human. Sorry you didn't like the ending, but it's not such a departure from reality that it's implausible.
3744903 Uh.
It is " such a departure from reality that it's implausible". That's what I'm saying.
A Mental health hospital would not have the equipment nor the legal basis to execute anybody, in any way shape or form.
Celestia and Luna, as the ruling diarch, are the only ones capable of signing things into law. This is how being ruled by royalty works.
It is simply in neither of their characters to allow a Mental Institution the power to carry out executions.
It isn't something you can keep secret, either. They didn't sneak him away in the middle of the night. You've written them as having a dedicated execution chamber. Everyone working there would know.
"Hi honey, how was your first day of work? "They showed us where they kill people without trial!" So the hospital worker's families would know.
It would simply be impossible to keep something as brazen as this away from the legal authorities.
3745168
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Underground_railroad
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meth_lab
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capital_punishment_for_drug_trafficking
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Area_51
http://beforeitsnews.com/opinion-conservative/2013/04/shocking-peta-kills-96-of-animals-they-take-in-2614500.html
I see no reason why something can't exist right under a pony's nose without them knowing about it. History is dotted with stories like this, including ones that we haven't heard about.
I understand that you are dissatisfied with how I decided to write the story; however, is it implausible? Well, when your financial backers are threatening to withdraw funding and give something specific, you may choose to do something pretty drastic.
As far as specifically his method of execution, a few thousand watts to fry a brain isn't that big a deal. It's not as if they give tours of a mental facility, and even something like a health inspector won't necessarily check all the rooms--let's say, for the sake of argument, that this room is hidden behind a false wall panel so any passersby would never know it existed.
I'm the author of the story; that means I wrote something in a specific fashion. It's up to you to imagine how this came to be as the reader. I leave it up to you to imagine why something happened the way that it did. The aforementioned is just a few ideas I had on how such a thing may happen. I got plenty more, but I'm not saying you have to be happy with everything in the story. I've been dissatisfied with decisions the authors have made in plenty of book series that I like.
EDIT: There's also something known as "lying." Even ponies do it. Seeing a patient being escorted somewhere by guards doesn't make a hospital worker jump to the conclusion, "They must be taking him somewhere to be executed."
3745698
You are reaching, really hard, to try and justify this.
I mean seriously, retroactively going "oh it's behind a false wall."? That's weak, dude. Random wikipedia articles of things that aren't secrets to try and justify it? Both weak, and incoherent.
You, at the very last chapter, have created a conspiracy where a mental institution is murdering people under medical supervision, then somehow getting rid of the bodies and all the evidence.
And they're doing it casually, as if they're putting the vacuum cleaner over.
And they're using a machine designed and built for the specific purpose.
And somehow nobody is noticing that ponies are going missing.
And to top it off, all those doing it are members of a pacifist culture. A culture who's most advanced lethal weaponry is the spear. A culture who, when faced with an invading army, merely decided to throw food at them.
It's beyond implausible. It's total gibberish nonsense.
It's made all the worse by you just randomly inserting this hugely elaborate, and unnecessarily complex conspiracy in the very last chapter.
3745777
Hell, actually, I can rip into this on another level: Mental Health Hospitals aren't funded the way you think they are, and even if they were, the motivation still doesn't make sense.
I mean seriously. Have you paid attention to evil aristocratic types? They wouldn't threaten to cut funding because of too many no-hopers being in the hospital. They wouldn't feel bad if one starved. People of this mindset simply would not fund it in the first place, and if they did somehow gain control of funding coming from somewhere else, they would not need an excuse to cut it.
I'm very familiar with "nobility" and their attitudes to welfare. They would either cut funding for shits'n'giggles, or simply never pay attention to it.
Furthermore, if all these nobles who apparently fund the hospital had discussed what to do with him, as it states in the story, then it's even HARDER to keep this ridiculously over complex patient-murder conspiracy secret!
Seriously, if he was killed for being a resource drain, it would make zero sense for any aristocrats to have a part. It'd be one of the higher ups faux-accidentally poisoning him. Of course, having common sense, said doctor would merely petition the crown for funding rather than kill people. It's easier.
Food for thought: How much would getting someone to design, build and install an electric chair cost? How much would keeping him quiet cost? How much would bribing the guards cost?
How is hospital food and shower soap more expensive than this? It's literally Action T4. For this kind of setup, they'd have to be expecting to kill a lot of people. And it still wouldn't be financially viable if they did, but it would get them caught double quick when people start noticing their family members were all found dead covered in electrical burns.
3745777
I'm not reaching to justify this at all; I'm merely presenting an opposing opinion on something that doesn't seem to be a problem to me in the first place. You seem really passionate about this.
I'll re-iterate, though: It's up to you, the reader, to reconcile the reasons behind why something happened the way it did. It's not my job to spoon-feed you every little answer to every question raised in a story, and I wasn't introducing this massive conspiracy in the prologue, only trying to tell a story.
3745874
I guess you've never heard of bureaucrats donating to charity for tax breaks.
I think you're trying to overthink what we do know about Equestria. Bear in mind that storytelling is just that: Telling a story. Whether you depart from based canon for the sake of the story or you go a little off the radar to make a point (powerful shocks to the brain, in this case), trying to put too much thought into such a little thing is bound to leave you disappointed.
How about you just enjoy the story for what you did like about it, rather than the one thing you didn't like? I have my reasons for writing it how I did, and you have your reasons for disliking a certain aspect. That doesn't make the entirety inherently bad, does it?
3746214
I'm going to use citations from your replies now, as you seem to ignore most points I make, otherwise.
"I'm not reaching to justify this at all; I'm merely presenting an opposing opinion on something that doesn't seem to be a problem to me in the first place. You seem really passionate about this.
"
Yes, when somebody copy and pastes Nazi atrocities into the final chapter of an otherwise unrelated story, people are liable to become annoyed.
"I'll re-iterate, though: It's up to you, the reader, to reconcile the reasons behind why something happened the way it did. It's not my job to spoon-feed you every little answer to every question raised in a story,"
All you have done so far is prove that you didn't put any thought into writing his death the way you did. A mental health hospital having a fully functioning execution chamber is totally implausible and really makes no sense. I have explained why it is implausible and makes no sense, and you have ignored that explanation.
If you had your own way of clearly explaining how this situation could occur, you would have just said it. As is, I have outlined why there isn't, and could not be one. This is not a failure on my part, I do not require spoonfeeding. You, on the other hand, are attempting to serve me a plate of bricks and complaining when I cannot swallow.
"and I wasn't introducing this massive conspiracy in the prologue, only trying to tell a story."
A mental health hospital kills patient for being what they deem a waste of resources. Said killing is debated and ordered by the "nobility", here taken to be the supposed funding source. The killing is carried out in a purpose built execution device, indicating that this is regular practice enough that they require one. However, nobody has questioned what is happening to these patients, including friends (the mane 6), family, and the relevant regulatory bodies. Are they unpersoned? Are all records expunged, and bodies disposed of? Then what do they say to people who come to visit? Would said visitors not speak of this to others? Or, if they are reported dead, and their families allowed to bury them, How does nobody notice they have signs of fatal electrocution?
This is a large conspiracy, and by your own account, it includes an undetermined number of aristocrats, at least two guards, and a doctor that would rather break his oath than go to Celestia's court. Plus whoever would have reason to suspect the hospital would also need to be silenced.
It's also only introduced in the prologue.
So yeah, it's a big conspiracy that you introduced in the prologue. You did it thoughtlessly, merely to kill off a single character who's arc was already finished.
If you wanted him to die so badly, there are many other ways. And none of them are as mindless, unsuitable and offensive as this one.
"I guess you've never heard of bureaucrats donating to charity for tax breaks.
"
1) Hospitals do not require charity to function. They are either for-profit, where his family would pay for treatment, or they are state funded.
2) Cutting donations would also proportionally cut the tax break, and a donor would not endanger his accounting by threatening them in such a thoughtless manner.
3) Celestia is both wise beyond mortal understanding, and a highly competent ruler. She would not allow the weak and the sick of her society to rely on the mercy of the rich and greedy, and especially not in her capital city. Indeed, it's likely the flagship hospital, the one with the greatest funding and brightest minds in the country. Why rely on charity when you've got La Femme Horsejesus watching over you?
"I think you're trying to overthink what we do know about Equestria."
No, I have solely drawn on the show canon. Be that events (buffalo pie fight, Canterlot wedding guards equipped with spears), or characterization (Celestia as benevolent, the embodiment of generosity, loyalty, kindness, and the rest, and wise).
"Bear in mind that storytelling is just that: Telling a story. Whether you depart from based canon for the sake of the story or you go a little off the radar to make a point (powerful shocks to the brain, in this case), trying to put too much thought into such a little thing is bound to leave you disappointed."
Here you are making a mistake. When telling a story, you are supposed to put thought into it. You are trying to convey thoughts and ideas to the reader.
Your thoughts, here, are lacking. The end of your story caused my suspension of disbelief to fail. This prologue fits neither Equestria as a setting, nor the rest of your story. It is a blatant, nonsensical and disgusting plagiarism of what the third Reich did in their "hospitals", with no nuance and no sensitivity.
And you can't even Godwin this, because it's legit. Institutionalized killing of the disabled.
And you refuse to take even the slightest bit of criticism on it.
3746697
You're over-analyzing just this one thing. Did you even read the rest of the story?
Sweet Celestia, man. It's one small part of a large story. I am improving my writing, and this was my first story. If I'm going to re-write every part I didn't like, I'm going to have to write out a large portion of the story in which Twilight actually ends up getting with Enigma.
I acknowledge that I'm an imperfect author. I don't think I said at any point that your opinion was mistaken, seeing as it's perfectly valid and I mostly agree with you. You're letting a small nitpick that's even open to interpretation, seeing as this actually turned into a debate, become a serious issue that really has no reason.
Your initial comment was in a reply to me thanking another reader for his complimenting my story. At no point in that reply did I say, "This story is perfect." At no point in his comment did he ask, "Why in the hoof was there an execution chamber in a Canterlot mental hospital?" As far as I can tell, most of the people who have read this story haven't looked at a tiny specific and said, "This is a huge problem."
Seriously, did you read the whole story or start with the prologue? Because if all you did was read the first few paragraphs of the prologue, then say "This story sucks because electric chairs wouldn't be in a Canterlot hospital," I strongly suggest you read the rest of it. This story isn't titled "The Ethical Quandary of the Electric Chair in Canterlot Hospitals." It's titled "The Pony That Never Was."
EDIT: Also, I didn't read about 2/3 of the last comment you gave me. I've just lost the patience to talk in circles with you about pointless things. I did, however, read all of your other comments from start to finish.
EDIT TO THAT OTHER EDIT: After saying I didn't bother reading your comment, it bothered me and I read it. I also had a very specific reason for electric chair. It tends to light up your brain, seeing as the entire thing works off electrical impulses, which was what caused his extremely vivid re-telling of the past that is the story I wrote. Literally, the entire story is being told while his brain is being zapped. I had a reason for picking this specific method of execution.
3746994
"You're over-analyzing just this one thing. Did you even read the rest of the story?
Sweet Celestia, man. It's one small part of a large story. I am improving my writing, and this was my first story. If I'm going to re-write every part I didn't like, I'm going to have to write out a large portion of the story in which Twilight actually ends up getting with Enigma."
I'm not over-analyzing anything. You wrote a story that was good. Then you added a prologue which was bad, and offensive.
"I acknowledge that I'm an imperfect author. I don't think I said at any point that your opinion was mistaken, seeing as it's perfectly valid and I mostly agree with you. "
If you agreed with anything I said, you would have mentioned it. So far you've only confirmed that he wasn't even killed morally, what with your talk of it being hush hush, hidden between a false wall, etc.
"You're letting a small nitpick that's even open to interpretation, seeing as this actually turned into a debate, become a serious issue that really has no reason."
You tacked an extra chapter onto your story that ruined it. If you care about your work, you'll see the problem.
"Your initial comment was in a reply to me thanking another reader for his complimenting my story. At no point in that reply did I say, "This story is perfect." At no point in his comment did he ask, "Why in the hoof was there an execution chamber in a Canterlot mental hospital?""
I just used the most convenient way of leaving a comment you could see.
" As far as I can tell, most of the people who have read this story haven't looked at a tiny specific and said, "This is a huge problem.""
It isn't a "tiny specific", it's the entire prologue. Read in chronological order, it is also the final chapter of the story.
"Seriously, did you read the whole story or start with the prologue? Because if all you did was read the first few paragraphs of the prologue, then say "This story sucks because electric chairs wouldn't be in a Canterlot hospital," I strongly suggest you read the rest of it. This story isn't titled "The Ethical Quandary of the Electric Chair in Canterlot Hospitals." It's titled "The Pony That Never Was.""
You wrote it. If you don't want people to read it, to think about it, and offer their thoughts back to you, then why did you publish it?
As is, this is a poor framing device. I've already explained that it makes no sense in the setting, and that it is offensive in a way that hinders rather than helps the story.
Read as a prologue proper, it leaves me appalled, unable to focus on the story ahead.
Read in the order of posting, it makes me forget the story I had just read. I can't focus on the good in the main body of the story at all, when this leaves me with such a strong, foul aftertaste.
"EDIT: Also, I didn't read about 2/3 of the last comment you gave me. I've just lost the patience to talk in circles with you about pointless things. I did, however, read all of your other comments from start to finish."
It isn't talking in circles. I say something, you refuse to engage with it, so I try again.
"EDIT TO THAT OTHER EDIT: After saying I didn't bother reading your comment, it bothered me and I read it. I also had a very specific reason for electric chair. It tends to light up your brain, seeing as the entire thing works off electrical impulses, which was what caused his extremely vivid re-telling of the past that is the story I wrote. Literally, the entire story is being told while his brain is being zapped. I had a reason for picking this specific method of execution."
That reason doesn't counter how badly the method of execution fits into the story. Or the idea of executing a hospital patient in a literal utopia, even.
Seriously, you wrote the prologue last. The story doesn't even need one.
If you read everything but the prologue, you can at least buy that he was euthenics to spare him the suffering of starving to death. But when you do read the prologue, suddenly you're handed the knowledge that the Hospital doubles as a finance-driven, unhindered, fully equipped death factory.
Christ on a bike. All you had to do was /not/ tack on a retroactive prologue. It's like if the a teletubbys episode ended with the corpse burning scene from Shindler's List.
3747280
I promise I like hearing good/bad, but we've just been discussing the one problem.
In that case, I suggest you forget you ever read the prologue and we move on to other aspects of the story.
And, if it gives you some solace, I'll re-consider his means of death. My primary reason for the electric chair is because he has an exceptional mind which told an extremely vivid story (mostly through Enigma), and the massive jolts to his brain gave him a lucid recollection of how he had escaped his mind. So, yes, I'm taking your comments into account; perhaps improving the story, even one I wrote a year ago, will re-establish your faith in me.
3747432 Food for thought - Electroshock therapy. Something that's actually plausible for a Hospital to do, and gives you a couple choices. "Whoops, too much voltage" and he dies, or it works and he gets a happy ending.
Really anything is better than this weird and wrong idea that a hospital would or could make him ride the lightning. Or that ponies would make anyone ride the lightning. Or that they'd even have a concept of riding the lightning.
3747723
Why haven't you been writing the stories, then?
That's actually a pretty good idea.
3747804 I'm garbage at narratives. I can do all the dorky "this is how the starship enterprise works, this is what a phaser looks like", but my god letting me write a script is a bad idea.
3747862
First part of the prologue has been re-written. Let me know what you think, sir.
Thanks again for the electroshock idea. It admittedly seems far more believable, and I think the story is much better off thanks to your objection of how I'd written it before.
3956630 Him being deliberately killed still makes no sense.
3956776
One does not simply question the motives of nobles.
I added a little bit more stuff to make it more ambiguous. Do you question the motives of nobles, Sir doritos?
5101339
You know, that parallel has been drawn before. When I first put this story out, I got a comment saying that this is basically Background Pony, so I went and looked up the story, saw it was an epic-length story that I'm almost certain my story is quite different from (I don't read really long stories, generally speaking), and continued writing the idea that I had in my head. I had never heard of shortskirtsandexplosions at the time, but everyone who frequented the site was already familiar with the story.
This actually got linked somewhere on TVTropes, as the site statistics showed me; someone commented with this:
I wrote this with basically no knowledge whatsoever of other fics in existence. Despite how popular Background Pony is, I never heard of it until a few chapters into this story.
3747723
That's what Dusty calls coitus. :3c
5103425
Oh my.
This story leaves me feeling odd...
I was interested in what happened the whole time, and yet... due to the way it ends, I can't favorite it....
6371604
What's wrong with how it ends, huh?
6371776 It's too depressing.
6371817
Not just the right amount?
6371842 no.
Although, that might just be me.
I generally prefer happy, or at least bitter sweet, endings over depressing ones.
6371856
I think it's bittersweet! How else could our main character have found happiness, hmm?
6371860 I was actually kind of hoping that somehow she'd end up becoming a real pony, and not just part of Cottonmouth's imagination.
6371874
Yeah, but that's unrealistic and too sappy. You should go read some of my other stories.
6371882 I might at some point.
6371897
The Seasons isn't, though.
They are majority sad, by the way.
6371914 Okay