Chapter 3
Lyra magicked over another quill and pen and got ready to take notes. She sat down on a sofa human-style, one back hoof crossed over the other, and I gave a little chuckle.
“What is it?” she asked.
“No, nothing. Do you really find sitting like that comfortable?”
This was, of course, close to the pose that the bronies saw her in which spurred our idea that Lyra was a pony who liked humans. If my world-as-myth view was correct, this pose was the cause of her human fandom.
“Actually, no, but that’s why I do it. When I’m too comfortable I stop being focused, so I sit like this and the discomfort keeps prodding me to get done what I have to do, whether it’s thinking about something or taking notes or casting spells. I sat like this when I brought you here.”
“So you don’t just do it because it’s the way humans sit?”
She blushed slightly. “Well, I do think it’s a cool pose, but the focus thing is important too.”
I wasn’t really getting an answer to my question. She had a perfectly legitimate explanation for her odd position, but it also was tied in with humans. I decided to let her know what I was thinking.
“But is it possible that the whole reason you like humans is because you sit that way? See, that’s the only evidence anyone in my world had that you admired us, but it turns out to be true. Maybe we made you that way?”
She thought about that for a moment, uncrossed her hooves and leaned in. “I guess it’s possible, but I know that when I decide to go after some human artifact or story, I think it up inside my head. You saw a picture of me sitting. Did you see a picture of my brain?”
“No, I suppose I didn’t. So how did you start then?”
“Oh no! You’re the one here to tell stories. You let me know how it is that you came to know enough about the pony world to want to be here, and then I’ll tell you my story.”
She was right. I felt that I owed her something to let her know that, so I shifted myself into the position I had seen Bon-bon on the bench when Lyra sat human-style: on all fours, sort of in the push-up position.
“All right, though it’s not very interesting.”
“You let me be the judge of that.”
“Well, all the stories of Equestria, most of which are about Ponyville, are shown in series on what we call television. I don’t know if you have anything like that, but imagine a play that goes around to all the human households and does shows for everyone.”
Lyra’s quill moved rapidly. “But it’s not magic, right? Someone invented and built it?”
“That’s right. The invention is an interesting story in itself. There was this farmer out in a field—“
“Hang on, one story at a time. I got that you saw us on the television. Go on from there and worry about the invention later.”
I thought that was odd, as if she really wanted to know about the human world, Philo Farnsworth’s story was more important than mine, but I went on.
“OK, so there are lots of playlets they show, and most are about humans, but the one about Equestria was different. The ponies were nice to each other, but they weren’t stupid or cloyingly sweet, and the stories were fun to watch. Word of mouth spread, and I hadn’t seen a good story in a while, so I started to follow and pay attention. Other humans would share pictures and make up our own guesses about what some ponies were like, and that’s how I learned about you.”
“Why did you not see good stories?”
Again, it was the wrong thing for her to pick out of what I had said. I wanted to explain about bronies and the internet, not about my own viewing habits.
“I guess at the time I was a little. . . not sad or depressed, but anhedonic. I just wasn’t feeling the joy I used to. I had chalked it up to getting older.”
“And you got happy when you saw us ponies?”
I hadn’t actually thought about it till she asked the question. Pony fandom was something I was just into. But didn’t I wait for every Saturday morning intently?
“I guess I did. Nothing compared to the happiness when I saw you. I mean, to really be in Equestria instead of just seeing it on a tiny box.”
“Well, I think the story’s interesting. You were sad, and now you’re happy. Those are the best stories!”
Well, I couldn’t disagree with that.
“OK, your turn then. How do you know about us?”
“Well, as a filly I was always very impatient. I would ask my sire and dam things like, ‘Why can’t we have the zap apple jam now?!’ or ‘Why don’t we turn spring to summer sooner so the foals can have vacation?!’ and other ponies my age would tease me by saying, ‘Lyra wants to be human! Lyra wants to have things like inventions and technology! Lyra goes on two legs!’ You know, all the stereotypes of humans, that they’re impatient and rude and grasping. They made it into a singsong chant: ‘Lyra’s human! Lyra’s human!’ and for a long time it hurt. But as I grew I realized that those stereotypes weren’t all bad and I was like they said. And you know something? It turns out that mean ponies stop teasing you if it stops hurting. When I could actually say that I did like humans, and mean it, they stopped.”
The obvious follow-ups came into my head. How did those stereotypes come about and how did the other young ponies come to know them? And yet, I was thinking more about what she had said about teasing. Would I be better off if I could state proudly how much I loved ponies, and not worry about being made fun of?
“Well, you did invent the teleportation spell for me. I guess that’s something stereotypically human.”
I had thought it was an obvious connection to make, but Lyra stopped and her spell holding the quill and paper in the air was broken. They fell to the floor with a clack. She leaned to the side out of her seated pose.
“You really mean that. . . and not as a bad thing.”
“Yes.”
Her voice became a whisper. “I learned to take them so, but nopony ever complimented me like that.”
Then she recovered. “I guess you really are weird, aren’t you?!”
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“Oh, do humans have music? I can play the lyre!”
“Of course you can. And yes, we have music, though I don’t play. I like to sing though, but I’m not very good.”
“Can you try? I’d like to hear what human music is like.”
“Well, can you play for me?”
“Hey, like I said, you go first.”
“But I can’t think of any songs right now, not that I can sing off the top of my head. Play for me, and then I’ll sing, I promise.”
“OK, I guess. Be aware, you’re getting for free what I make all the ponies pay heavy for.”
Lyra’s horn glowed again and from the bedroom floated in the small harp. She sat back up and held it steady between a foreleg and her crossed hoof. The strings began to move on their own, and her magic glow seemed to change in time like an audio visualizer. It was a high, lilting melody, not one I recognized, but it could have fit in with the type of music I’d heard ponies sing.
She didn’t play for long, perhaps two minutes, and at the end I applauded. She perked up. “Oh! You hit them together instead of on the ground! That makes sense.” She tried to clap her hooves together in mimic of me, but it wasn’t that impressive. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“A little. I always thought that if you really appreciate a performance, you should give yourself a little pain to compensate the performer.”
“I’m not sure that that makes sense. Your turn now, you promised.”
“All right. See if you like this.” I breathed in and sang:
Becoming as popular, as popular can be
Making my mark, making my mark in high society
I’m the belle of the ball, the star of the show.
I’m the type—
A crash of sound from the lyre cut me off.
“Nuh-uh! You think we don’t get the Canterlot hits out here in Ponyville? I wanted human music, not pony music sung by a human!”
“But that is human music! I mean, I’ve been listening to it a lot the past few weeks.”
“Well, you got it from us, right? It’s on one of the stories?”
“Yeah, it is. You’re quite perceptive.”
“So no fooling, now, a real human song.”
I decided that if I had to represent our whole species, I needed something epic. I started in again a capella on Beethoven’s Ninth.
Freude schoner Gotterfunken
Tochter aus Elysium
Wir betreten feuertrunken
Himmlische dein Heiligtum
She really was quite talented. As I worked my way through, she held the lyre again and picked up the tune clean. Well, credit goes to Beethoven for having a melody that flowed naturally. But I correctly figured that she couldn’t anticipate the accidentals in the last line that are usually played by the accompanying instruments, so I sang them. And for three notes we harmonized instead of just synchronizing.
When we finished she said, “Oh, that was a lovely song! But why does it have nonsense words?”
“That’s not nonsense, it’s German. That’s what I do for a living, interpretation. The fun part is when some German speaker doesn’t realize that’s what you do and insults you, thinking you can’t understand, then you zing them back in their language.”
“Wait, I don’t get it. Everypony always says that humans don’t talk to other animals. So what animal speaks this German?”
“No, no, it’s other humans, from a different part of the world.”
“But if you’re both human, why don’t you talk the same?”
“Is that how it is here? Every pony speaks like us?”
“Well, yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise you couldn’t communicate!”
“It is hard sometimes. Wait, doesn’t Zecora speak a different language?”
“But she’s a zebra. Of course she has to talk to other zebras. And she’s a pony so she can talk to us too.”
“Well, it’s not like that in the human world. We don’t talk to the animals, just to each other, and sometimes not even that.”
“Your world needs some good pony sense. You’re all Earth humans, but you can’t even talk to each other. Maybe I should work on a spell next to fix that.”
“You’re right, in many ways our world would benefit if ponies came and helped. But it’s still a beautiful place. Do you know what that song means?”
“All the nonsense? Of course not.”
“It’s called the ‘Ode to Joy.’ A tribute to all the happiness in the world. And it pictures joy as a girl with magic, or maybe with wings, who brings together all the people in the world in despite of their differences. It’s a song about friendship and love.”
She paused at that. “Well, if you know that, then maybe you don’t need ponies that much after all.” She got up off the couch. “I’m going to see what I can do about a meal. You must be hungry too, right?”
“Sure, I could eat.”
And as she trotted toward the kitchen, I heard her humming the tune again.
--End of Chapter 3. Starting with this chapter, I'm using the blog function to write some "making of" notes when I can think of them. Check them out!
160195
*nods* I debated remarking about Heinlein and "world-as-myth", but wasn't sure if the reference was going to be caught. One of these days I need to finish reading "The Number of the Beast," but the concept of fictons is easy enough to grasp without having read all of the book: for every story that is, was, or will ever be, there is a universe where it's non-fiction.
http://objection.mrdictionary.net/go.php?n=5516688
My recommendation for you would also be to break up these long conversations with something actually happening... They're explaining human and pony culture, but not much outside of what the readers already know.
160667
I think you're right, and I'm going to work more on that in the upcoming chapters. What I'm hoping this chapter does when the story is complete is two things:
1. Gives it some length, not in terms of word count, but in terms of time spent. I want things to be slow so the reader feels like the two spent a weekend together.
2. Sets mood and entertains just based on the culture clash ideas.
But yeah, with just 3 chapters, I could see how it's a little slow and boring at this point.
I should go to bed, but there's two more chapters!
Wait so if they have fairy tales of us humans and we have fairy tales of them, isn't that like a fairy tale within a fairy tale. Fairy tale inception?!?!?!
*shudder*
Another German reference...
In case you want to replace Gotterfunken with an ö... there you go.
By the way, I don't get cranky because of interpretations, I get cranky when people suddenly start to tell nonsense about Hitler on Youtube - especially under a video which has absolutely n-o-t-h-i-n-g to do with it.
I just don't......believe his character.
*bangs head against table because you did not explain the depth of our world*
Honestly, the pacing of this story is a little hard to follow...
...but it is intriguing. I will stay for now.
I get lost sometimes and I don't know Whose talking at certain points. Besides that it's a alright fic.
They're going to eat-
OH FRICK HUMANS EAT MEAT AND PONIES DON'T OMG NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO