7. Splendor Forever Lies In Wait
I.D. INJECTOR DOE
That Indestructible Something
By Chatoyance
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7. Splendor Forever Lies In Wait
“Life's splendor forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness,
but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there, though, not hostile,
not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right word, by its right name,
it will come.”
- Franz Kafka
Pandit Ramsamooj had spent the entire day praying to Hayagrīva, but nothing had come of it. Pandit was still a horse. Or rather it was to be said that he was horse-like, though no earthly horse that he knew of had ever been bright blue, nor had possessed such wings as he had. Likewise his proportions were wrong for a true horse - he was tiny, with large hooves and a huge head bearing truly gargantuan eyes. His irises now were the color of rubies, and when he looked into them, in his reflection in the water, he somehow saw himself within them.
Pandit had not yet dared to fly, but he had wandered the streets of Khajuraho. Not one person, not even those claiming siddhis or Abhijñā, appeared to perceive his true form. If even the enlightened were blind, then there was only the gods to turn to, and of those Lord Hayagreevar, white, horse-headed, and the most excellent divinity of knowledge and wisdom was surely the obvious choice. Was not Pandit himself now a horse, even if a strange one? Surely Hayagrīva would count him as one of his own. Since a camatkāra had clearly happened overnight - Pandit, a man, had been transformed into a divine steed of some kind - then without doubt Hayagrīva would answer and explain his new role and place to him.
Just not today.
Pandit turned from the ancient monuments and trotted away from the crowds that had come to see them. The sun would set soon, and Pandit was hungry. Fortunately, life as a horse was very easy - there was grass to be had everywhere and water to drink besides. The needs of the body of a horse were easy to satisfy, and Pandit even found that the tastes of the grasses differed from area to area and kind to kind, and in them he found a banquet of delights. He would never go hungry in his new body, and without doubt he was of the most superior health.
It was, he had found, to his best interest not to be seen eating, because to others he still was somehow a man. But this to achieve was not difficult, and when he fed he gave thanks for the blessings of his strong new body, and the supreme ease of its keeping.
One day Lord Hayagreevar would surely answer. Until then, Pandit would pray, and wander the temples, and not need for alms or work or the concerns of Man. He would enjoy this most bountiful and splendid time of grace, before his task or purpose was finally revealed to him, and perhaps one auspicious day, he would teach himself the use of his wings.
──── ∆ ────
Marguerite stared at the Palais de Justice, gawking at the colors. Normally white stone, the Justitiepaleis had become a fairy-castle of pink and purple swirls, curious stripes and elaborate golden decorations. The dome that capped it now was an astonishing sight, even more ornate than before, and possessed of a spiral stripe. The ancient building stuck out now amidst all other buildings in Brussels, no longer because it was grand and old and exquisite, but because it was alien.
How could no one see this? Marguerite walked down the Rue De Wynants and occasionally stopped a passerby to ask them what they saw when she pointed to the Justitiepaleis. In every case, the answer was mundane - they saw the Palais, they saw a column or a window or the original white stonework from before the palace had changed, or whatever else it was that they assumed she was trying to indicate. Not one seemed able to grasp that the proper Palais de Justice had been removed in the night and replaced with a very dissimilar building of the same size which appeared, for all the world, as if it had come from the realm of fantasy.
Weary after another fruitless effort to understand the mystery of how ordinary citizens could completely fail to see the massive alterations of their city, Marguerite decided to make her usual long trek to one of the many scattered parks. Last week she had frequented the Parc de Forestier Bospark, she thought instead to travel to the much larger and more splendid Parc Duden to the south. Duden was near the Gevangenis St. Gilles where she had once enjoyed some lovely potato dishes, but best of all it had many shielding trees and wide, green lawns.
When the night came, and the park was finally deserted for the most part, she could take her supper in peace, grazing long and well as the pony she now was. Margurerite could almost accept that others saw her as an ordinary woman, after all she was but one individual in a vast and populous city. But the entirety of the Justitiepaleis? "Hangt hier de pot!"
──── ∆ ────
Rachel worked intently, hand stitching the last bit of the false shoelace to the hoofcover she had made. Gregoria stood still, careful not to interfere. It was easy to stand - she had learned the trick of locking her pony legs after Rachel had explained that it was possible to do so. Truth be told, Gregoria had nearly drifted off to sleep, and felt slightly embarrassed when Rachel patted her cheek to get her attention.
"Walk around a bit, gently at first, and let's see if it holds, 'kay?" Rachel smiled - she was clearly enjoying making clothing for a real live Equestrian. It was understandable, Gregoria supposed. Rachel did love the cartoon, and getting to play the part of the character who liked to make dresses... 'Rarity' was the name, yeah, 'Rarity'... was probably living out a personal fantasy for her. But it was more than that, Rachel had clearly been very lonely, and there was no doubting she was grateful to have Gregoria keeping her company at all - in pony form or not. The remaining human part of Gregoria found herself occasionally chafing at the sometimes obvious desperation in Rachel, even as the dominant pony part felt drawn to help and fill the emptiness in her friend.
The hoofcovers were a clever invention. They were like cuffs, easy to wrap around a rear hoof, the flaps held together with velcro. Gregoria had quickly learned to sit on her flank, curve her body and bend her long neck to attach the cuff to her hoof. That was how she had ripped the false shoelaces off - she was still learning just how strong her new pony jaw truly was.
Rachel's creation mimicked sneakers. The cuffs looked like running shoes, with the same pattern and even a little machine-embroidered Nike swoosh on the side. A simulation of tied laces was stitched to the front, and the bottom of the cuff used a thin rubbery material to simulate a sole. Seen from a short distance, they made for reasonably convincing costume running shoes that fit perfectly the smaller, rounder profile of Gregoria's equine hooves.
Gregoria, still wearing the denim pony dress that Rachel had spent the previous night and day sewing on her little machine, stepped gingerly about the apartment. Her falsely shod rear hooves clopped over linoleum and wood and carpet, but for all the world it looked as if she were wearing small, round pony Nikes. The velcro held, the simulated laces remained in place, and best of all, the costume cuff did not flap or dance about on Gregoria's leg.
"Pick up the pace a bit." Rachel moved to the couch and flopped down. "I want to make sure they don't fall off easy."
Gregoria moved to a faster walk, and tried raising and lowering her legs in an exaggerated fashion. She even gave a few stomps to make sure the hoofcovers did not fall off. "They're amazing, Rachel. They really work! I have to say... I'm impressed."
Rachel beamed. "yay!" Her voice was soft, almost a falsetto whisper. She was mimicking her favorite character from the cartoon, a yellow pegasus with some kind of social anxiety disorder. Rachel had been working very hard to solve the problem of decent clothing for her friend, and with this clear success, Gregoria found herself grinning back.
Gregoria stopped her parade and looked out the window. It was getting dark, the sun was setting again. This was her third day staying with Rachel, and she had to admit... it had been a lot of fun. Gregoria felt surprise at the thought - since that horrific morning when she had awakened as a beast, even the idea of using a word like 'fun' had been utterly unthinkable. She had felt herself a monster, the victim of a terrible catastrophe, doomed to a possibly neverending nightmare. But the truth was - the last three days had been... well, they had been fun.
The notion was mad, utterly mad of course. There was no question that this strange form into which she had been changed was a disaster. Gregoria still felt desperate to regain her proper, human body - and her proper human brain as well. It was terrible to imagine being stuck for life as a refugee from a barnyard, not to mention that in this form she could never have a boyfriend, never marry, never have children - sweet Luna! That was a thought! - and never hope to have a normal life. This situation was the enemy, and it had to be defeated, the sooner the better. Before she lost all sense of her former self and started to... Celestia forbid... begin accepting it. Or even, far worse, liking it.
Her situation had in fact become even more urgent to her the previous night. They had both thought it wise to watch the entirety of My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic in order to try to more fully understand what being a pony meant, and also to see if there were any clues in the show that might explain Gregoria's transformation.
They had watched several episodes in a row on Rachel's computer - she had downloaded every episode just as most fans apparently did. One episode in particular struck Gregoria hard. "Family Appreciation Day", by a writer named Cindy Morrow, told the story of the elder Apple family grandmother, 'Granny Smith'. In the show, the character was depicted in her youth as a member of a group of settlers that had ultimately founded the town of 'Ponyville', the main location for much of the cartoon.
Starting with nothing but a few wagons of supplies, the settlers were shown to be responsible for clearing out a portion of the vast Everfree forest so that the wide, rural landscape of Ponyville could eventually develop. These flashback sequences were done in sepia tones, in order to indicate great age.
And that is when it had hit Gregoria. A previous episode, "Winter Wrap Up" had made as its central concern the fact that earthponies - the very type that Gregoria now was - had built Ponyville without the use of magic, by hoof and muscle. The episode was very clear that it was Ponyville's deepest tradition that the season of winter - ponies apparently controlled every aspect of nature in their world, including the weather itself - should be cleaned up entirely by personal effort. This left out the central character of the episode - Twilight Sparkle, a unicorn - because all she knew how to do was magic.
The tradition was stated to be hundreds of years old.
That meant that Granny Smith had to be at least two hundred years old at minimum. A quick check on the internet by Rachel revealed that some clever wag had used statistical analysis to measure the population and size of Ponyville from the images on the show, and had made an estimate of how long it would take a town to grow to that size. It was most likely that Granny Smith was more like three hundred years old.
Three hundred years old. And there was nothing whatsoever to suggest that Granny Smith was in any way atypical. Indeed, she was a common earthpony, living on a farm, as average as could be. So average, in fact, that the primary conflict in the "Family Appreciation Day" episode was about how every character assumed that Granny Smith had nothing interesting to say. Her own granddaughter was embarrassed through much of the show at this thought.
Gregoria had been transformed into an earthpony from that very television program. She had no reason to assume she was somehow special in any regard. Her transformation into a pony had done more than merely steal her human form from her, or change her brain in ways that drove her to be a better person than she normally would be. The nightmare transformation included the most insidious, horrific, disturbing and nasty trick it was possible to inflict on her.
Vastly more life.
Eighty some years was the average life span for a human woman. Two - more likely three hundred years was apparently the average life span for an Equestrian pony. More than three times more lifespan, the majority of it apparently in very good health. Granny Smith was ancient, yet she could dance, move well, and her single greatest problem was a bad hip from kicking trees for hundreds of years.
If she hadn't abused her hips, she'd probably be completely fit.
Gregoria had seen plenty of seriously messed-up fifty and sixty year olds in her life, and only a handful of people in their eighties that were in truly decent physical shape. She'd met two ninety-somethings, one very spry, the other barely mobile at all. Meanwhile, at three hundred and something, Granny Smith, the earthpony, occasionally had to use a walker. Sometimes. Not on every show. Oh, and her knees looked ugly. Three hundred years of life.
The transformation was ruthless. Heartless. Cruel beyond comprehension. Earthly ponies were fortunate to make it to thirty years. That would be a dire motivation to get her human body back. But a three-hundred year lifespan - two hundred at the very least - it was a temptation beyond measure. Maybe if she had been a religious fanatic, sure of an afterlife, certain that death was nothing but eternal pies and cake - but death was scary to Gregoria, very scary. She was not convinced that death meant reward - or punishment. It nagged at her that death could be just what it appeared to be - permanent termination. Oblivion. And that frightened Gregoria more than anything.
Even hell still meant you still existed.
Three hundred years instead of eighty. It was as if whatever had changed her had deliberately done everything possible to make her suffer for any attempt to undo it.
No, that was not entirely true. If she'd had a choice, Gregoria would have rather been a unicorn or a pegasus, if she had to become a pony at all. Magic or flight would have made things a lot easier in countless ways. No, this change couldn't be a personal attack on her - if it had been, they'd screwed up on which kind of pony to make her.
The revelation that, as a pony, she could expect to live as long as three centuries, far beyond any recorded human lifespan, made her determination to regain her humanity much more desperate. Such a generous bounty of additional years of existence was a temptation that would only become increasingly difficult to fight against accepting. It would become worse as the years went on, as people she cared about - such as her mother, her sister and Rachel - grew old and died around her. The horror of watching humans die right and left of their short lifespans would make the effort to regain humanity seem more and more like a fool's errand and...
"Their short lifepans" - had she really thought that? Gregoria shook her head, her mane swirling over her back and falling to the side. Her traitorous pony brain was increasingly thinking that way. Seeing humans as an 'other', and herself as not among them. "Our short lifespans!" she thought fiercely to herself - but the words in her mind felt hollow in her heart.
"Greggy?" Rachel was off the couch and squatting in front of Gregoria, staring intently at her face. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"
Gregoria focused her eyes, and tried to look happy again for her friend. "I... was just thinking of... stuff. About the change, and the future." Rachel looked worried, apparently the attempt to look more cheery hadn't been very successful. "It's okay, I'll be okay. Sorry. I'm sorry. Kinda drifted off there."
Rachel lifted her arm from her knee as she squatted, and scratched behind Gregoria's left ear. For a moment pleasure took her, and Gregoria found herself smiling despite her previous thoughts. Luna, that felt good. Oh, there, yeah, right there.
When Rachel had pulled her hand back, and Gregoria regained herself, she was almost ashamed to feel so much better. If she wanted to fight this thing, she needed to keep focused and not enjoy it too much. There were too many temptations already. Food, senses, mood, lifespan, health, and little pleasures just like that one. "Uh, Rachel? Maybe... maybe it's better if you don't do that."
Rachel looked utterly crushed. "I'm... sorry. I... I mean, I just..." She looked like she might cry.
"Oh... ponyfeathers... Rachel, it was good. Great. I loved it, OK?" Rachel looked really confused now, halfway between sad and befuddled. "I liked it too much, understand? Stuff like that makes it hard to fight being a pony. There's so many temptations and it just makes it really hard to focus on... on getting back, you know?"
Rachel wasn't confused anymore, but the sadness was still there, locked down, but present. "I... guess I understand. It's just so fun to scratch your ears, and you looked so down and... sorry. I'll try to not do that anymore."
Gregoria stood in her denim pony-coat-dress thing (it was pretty darn cool, truth be told. Rachel had done an amazing job of it, and it looked like something that could have come from the show itself) and groaned. Her emotions warred inside her. She needed to get her human life back but Rachel was only being affectionate and kind and it really did feel so muffin good and it meant so much to her to show affection and Celestia knows that any kindness was everything right now and why did it have to be so hard, and why did this have to happen and what if Rachel became fed up an didn't want to help anymore and...
"Greg? Greggy?" Rachel had reached out and then suddenly pulled her hand back with an odd look on her face. "Listen, maybe I'm just making things more difficult for you. Maybe I'm not helping and..."
Gregoria stepped forward and pressed herself into Rachel, who nearly tumbled over from the unexpected bump. Rachel sat the rest of the way down and Gregoria found herself pressing her chest into Rachel's sitting body, while curving her long pony neck across and down her friends back. It was a strange sort of hug, but it was a hug. A pony hug, Gregoria assumed, instinctual, perhaps. Rachel raised her arms and wrapped them around Gregoria's neck and withers.
"You're the only help I've gotten, Rachel." Gregoria hugged tighter. "Until I came here, selfishly forcing myself on you, I was completely lost. You're helping. Oh, sweet Celestia, you are helping. Please, please don't think you aren't helping because you are. You absolutely are. I'm just... I'm just afraid."
Rachel couldn't help herself, she had begun automatically stroking Gregoria's soft coat, as she doubtless would any animal. "This must be really scary for you, I keep forgetting because you are so awesome as a pony and I wish that I cou... I'm sorry. I keep forgetting how hard this is for you."
Gregoria noted how Rachel had caught herself. "That's the problem, Rachel. It's less and less scary. The real problem is that all of this is... it's seductive. Oh, Luna, if only you knew. Food tastes better, smells are better, my eyes are better - everything feels so muffin good that its really hard to fight it. At first it was completely scary. But I keep getting used to it!"
"Then that just means you're still human."
Gregoria pulled back, away from Rachel and sat awkwardly down, tilted on her right flank to protect her tail. "What??"
Rachel adjusted her legs, tailor fashion, and leaned back on her arms. "It means you're still human in there. Seriously."
Noticing that her muzzle was open, Gregoria closed her mouth. "How... does getting used... to being a pony... mean I'm still - in any way - human?"
"Humans adapt, Greggy. That's the one thing that defines humans, I think. I mean, gorillas and chimps can talk - sign language, but sign language is still speech, and lots of animals can make and use tools, and all animals care and feel and even squirrels can solve puzzles and crows can do math problems and..."
Gregoria startled "Crows can do math problems?"
"Yeah! It's in New Scientist! They did this experiment with crows where..."
Gregoria tapped a hoof. "Wait, wait... back on topic. How is me being a pony somehow me being more human? Huh?"
"Other animals can pretty much do everything humans claimed - for a long time - that only they could do. That's all been proven to be totally false. So what makes humans human then? It can't be speech, or thought, or emotion, or tools or problem solving or even math, so if it isn't any of those things what's the one thing that humans do better than any other animal?" Rachel settled down onto her elbows, and stretched her legs out past Gregoria.
Gregoria decided to give up on trying to sit upright, and lay down like a pony, legs folded under her. It took a little fussing about to reposition herself, but it was worth it. It felt so much better than having her flank go to sleep while her tail ached.
"I give up, Rachel. What makes humans special?" It was early evening now, outside. They had been talking for some time.
"Humans can adapt to anything!" Rachel seldom wore shoes inside her apartment, she pressed her left foot against Gregoria's barrel, across her leg and hoof. For a moment she wiggled her toes in the soft yellow coat, clearly enjoying the feeling. Not nearly as embarrassed as she should have been, (or at all, Gregoria thought) Rachel smiled. "Out of Africa, through the ice age, into every climate, in the middle of deserts, or the arctic, or jungles or grasslands or mountains or islands in the sea - humans adapt to everything, Greggy. That's what humans are - the animal that adapts."
"But -" Gregoria wanted to argue, but she couldn't think of what to say.
Rachel continued... enjoying... Gregoria's coat. The denim outfit had wide, short sleeves, so that it was easy for Rachel to stick her toes under the fabric. "Humans evolved on earth, right? But they can go into space, into a totally weird environment, no gravity, no up or down, and that astronaut, the Canadian guy, he can play the guitar and sing Bowie songs and be on television and do science and stuff! It's like it's no biggie to him at all, it's like he's loving it, and everything up in orbit is like totally alien to all human experience. Humans adapt to anything! Humans make everything their bitch!"
Gregoria, pony Gregoria, winced at the last word. The 'B' one. Swirl that pony brain, she thought to herself. Still, Rachel's little speech did make her feel better. Humans could adapt to anything. If that really was what made humans special, if that was what made humans... human, then maybe it was silly to say that adapting to life as a pony was a defeat. Maybe it was just proof that Gregoria was still herself. Could a chimpanzee cope with suddenly being a completely different animal? Could a dolphin? Could a crow? It was more likely, Gregoria thought, that such animals would just freak out and stumble about smashing into walls in mindless panic until they broke their neck.
The thought of innocent animals breaking their necks made pony Gregoria shiver and feel very sad. With effort, Gregoria shook off that feeling and regained herself. Just a thought, not real. On top of everything else, her new pony brain was very, very good at mental visualization, and had strong emotions about what she imagined. There were a lot of things to juggle in this new body, a lot of things to...
...to adapt to. To adapt to. She'd had to deal with this, and she hadn't panicked (maybe just a little) and she was adapting, and she was staying on top of it. Body, brain, emotion, everything. Gregoria grinned. Rachel had a point. There was something irrepressible about humans. Something unconquerable. And she, Gregoria Samson, had to still be truly herself, and still human in some deep way, because she was not bashing herself against walls in panic, like another animal might. She was adapting to the strange, the alien, the extraordinary, because that was what humanity did best.
Gregoria considered this for a moment. Rachel... she was really pretty intelligent. Huh. Gregoria looked about at her four legs, and began moving them, trying to figure out how to crawl while laying down. She managed to scoot herself closer to her friend. Her best friend - she was fully willing to admit that now, to appreciate what that truly meant now. She lowered her long neck and wiggled her tall, curving ears.
"Scritchies?"
Rachel positively glowed, and happily began scratching behind her dearest friend's pony ears.
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CHAT! You're back! :DDDD
I intend to keep going on this story. It may be a little slow, mind you - my computer is nearing the end of its operational life, and I am saving up to get a new one. It crashes a lot and this interferes with my writing. But I will work to finish this novel.
Why? Because of you. Because of all the positive response to my recent blog posts. Because so many people here are suggesting it might be better for me to stay. Because you seem to want me to be here, and because not a few people suggested it would be cowardly for me to just leave.
I can be deeply hurt, but dammit, I am NOT a coward.
Also, I think this story wants to be completed. I think it is good, and worthwhile, and it it galls me that it sits here, incomplete.
It also hit me that in leaving, whatever the reason, I seem to be letting some people who apparently believe in me down. I don't want to do that. Ever.
But - I know what I am up against this time, and I do not intend to take any crap. Comments will be polite, or they will be deleted, and there is no point fussing about it. Damn straight.
And thank you, you who were supportive. Thank you for showing me I was wanted here.
Glad to see this update, and to see your return to writing too!
And definitely a nice posit on what distinguishes humanity from other animals
Yay! I was wondering what would happen here.
I guess it sorta helps that this isn't TCB and therefore less likely to get downvoted into oblivion, huh?
2664874
I don't think I can thank you enough for deciding to come back! I only hope things work out better this time around.
2664886
I think the haters recognize Chat more than the fact this is or isn't a TCB story. In our case, the downvotes means absolutely nothing. We know Chat can write well and we'll ignore the ratings. I mean, we know people will downvote simply because they hate Chat, TCB, or both. Because of that, the ratings on Chat's stories become meaningless.
About effing time.
CAN IT BE!?
I never stopped believing!
Welcome back!
Now that it's been confirmed this is a worldwide phenomenon, I'm eager to see some of the pieces start falling together. Really loved the research that went into the local descriptions, too, especially since I used to live in Brussels when I was little.
The undoubtedly cheese-legged Mr. Crown hopefully has some time to spare for a little exposition, even if that's far in the future - I'm enjoying just seeing Georgia and Rachel hang out.
300 year life span? OK, I'm sold; time to go get every PhD.
And lo, the champion returns, having conquered her detractors and smashed the boundaries they foisted upon her. A phoenixian rebirth. Congrats on your revival.
Wow. i was NOT expecting this. Thank you for this wonderful gift. Now i can go to sleep happy!
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"yay!"
I tried to get Brussels right, and Khajuraho too - I work hard to create verisimilitude in all of my writing. Things like the article about crows doing math problems, details about the future being just today projected forward from real facts - though this isn't a TCB story, so it isn't in the future, it is today, now.
I use Google maps, photographs online, articles and descriptions, research into local sayings - I try very hard. Sometimes, readers have helped me out - with the German used in Heaven Is Terrifying, for example.
You see, when I was growing up, I wanted to travel and see the world. But as an adult, essentially crippled by a genetic form of panic disorder (and a bad ticker), world travel is not something I can realistically expect to do any more. But I can visit in my mind, and in my stories, and in that way see the marvelous world.
It wasn't much, I know, but I hope I did Brussels a little right.
Just by posting this, you have restored a LOT of my faith in you, as an author. All the FiMFiction politics and trolling, it just surrounds the core of the the site: good stories about our beloved colorful equines. People start persecuting others, start throwing accusations and insults, start deleting or canceling stories, that's no longer what we're all here for. That's no longer poni.
The best way to silence the trolls and take back your place in the fandom is to ignore the periphery(or at least the stuff you don't like), and forge ahead, writing the stuff you like.
Do all ponies have such long lifespans, or it just Earth ponies? If we want to look at them as 'balanced', that's a good first step.
And of course, it's been said to death, but thank you for staying, Chatoyance! I'm so glad that you haven't been beaten by the trolls, and so glad to be able to read more of your work.
Oh how I've missed your writing. I do so eagerly await more.
Well well well! I was hoping this would be continued! This story is one of the more unique ones on fimfiction so I was saddened that it might not be continued so its good to have you back Chat!
2664886>>2664919 I will never understand why anyone would down vote a story (or in this case a specific authors stories) because they simply don't like them
. Just because I may not like a story or author doesn't mean others won't and down voting them will just ruin other readers experiences (not to mention in the case of down voting a story it hurts an author simply for a difference in preference). I just don't see the point in doing that.
Yes! It's back
2665062
To be human is to adapt and grow beyond previous limitions, to have the courage to overcome obstacles even though there might be a lot of effort involved and no little pain in the process.
Being human has much in common with being a TCB author on FIMfiction. Welcome back, human!
P.S. I'm so glad you're writing again, Chat! Don't forget that you have a lot of friends here, and don't ever let the bozos drag you down again.
Pictured below: My reaction to seeing a Chatoyance story update again.derpicdn.net/media/W1siZiIsIjIwMTMvMDMvMjMvMDhfMDBfMzBfMzg5XzI3NzQwMl9fVU5PUFRfX3NhZmVfcGlua2llX3BpZV9hbmltYXRlZF9maWxseV9waW5rYW1lbmFfZGlhbmVfcGllLmdpZiJdXQ/277402__safe_pinkie-pie_animated_filly_pinkamena-diane-pie_the-cutie-mark-chronicles.gif
As for the content of the chapter:
*"[A] yellow pegasus with some kind of social anxiety disorder" may be the best non-brony description of Fluttershy I've ever read.
k yeah. Next time someone calls you misanthropic, point them at that glorious bit of prose.
*Until now, I hadn't made the connection between Granny Smith's bum hip and centuries of applebucking. Huh. Seems rather obvious in hindsight.
*Humans. F
Very much looking forward to more. Welcome back, Chat.
Interesting... I guess this chapter kinda makes me muse on just how inherently untrusting I can be. The assurance that adaption is a very human trait seemed to have been exactly what our protagonist needed to hear, and calmed her down considerably. No doubt she believes it. But a part of me can't help but point out that such thoughts would be an excellent way for a mental reprogramming to lower the guard of the original system, insisting that it's in control and there's nothing to worry about. Do I actually think that's what's happening here? Frankly, no. Not at all. But the nagging possibility lingers.
I'm intrigued by the fact that the other neo-Equestrians you've shown seem to be adapting more easily than Greggy. Is it a social thing, or just a personality thing? I mean, I can see the advantages, but a) I'm here, and b) I enjoyed Walden. My family, on the other hand, would completely lose it.
As much as I understand the "balance" comments, I can't help thinking that "sure you can fly, but you die earlier" is just mean. Earthponies seem to have their stronger connection to nature, plus stamina and strength, if you feel the need to balance things like in an MMORPG. I can understand a difference of a few percentage points on average, but pegasi dying a century earlier (of natural causes) or something is just sad.
This is easily the best take on a human adapting to pony life I've ever read. Really glad to see it continue.
Had no idea people were giving you drama. Those people are bad and should feel bad. What the heck is a TCB story, anyhow? If it's some kind of story from you and it's this good, maybe I'd like it... EDIT: So it refers to The Conversion Bureau. I've heard that the expanded universe stuff there is even better than the original story, though I haven't read any myself. I can see why people would ignorantly judge you to be misanthropic, though it's a dumb assertion based on how you actually write humanity in this story. For example, Rachel's adaptiveness pep talk.
I particularly liked the bit at the beginning with the pegasus monk, by the way.
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I imagine that Pandit, raised on the notion of siddhis or Abhijñā (mystical powers of holy men and the enlightened) or even full-on camatkāra (outright miracles from a western viewpoint, massive alterations of reality itself) would simply take his transformation in stride. It fits his worldview, and his religion.
Marguerite I see as being an eminently practical woman, who is by nature nonplussed and stoic because: Dutch and German culture.
As for our Gregoria, she is an American early twenty-something, privileged and fairly spoiled, not particularly deep or decent, and devoid of either faith or maturity to assist her. She is having her world turned upside down, and she has nothing in her culture or her experience to cushion that blow - more than this she has up till now sneered at the fantastic, turned a blind eye to tales of wonder, and lived as a thoroughly self-absorbed individual. In short, she is dreadfully average and likely has never read a book she was not forced to read, nor considered anything beyond what is new at the local mall - altogether unlike her friend Rachel, who has a vivid fantasy life, a bookish background, and a steady diet of science fiction, fantasy and cartoons to widen her capacity to accept the strange.
Should something like the premise of this story really happen, I imagine the reactions would be diverse and determined by a myriad of factors - personality, culture, belief, background, interests, temperament, and how an individual defines and thinks of themselves, and likely much more.
Gregoria is a person who never once, ever thought what it would be like to be something truly other than she was. Oh, she's dreamed about being rich or famous or popular, of course. What I mean is she has never once imagined being a Vulcan, or a Minbari, or an Elf, or a Dragon or anything truly different and interesting. She has never yearned for magic or wonder in the way Rachel has. Gregoria is boring. But - she is getting less boring with every hoof-step!
Say, do you folks see that ∆ hanging out in the section breaks? In math and physics, that delta indicates change in formulas and equations. (And ★ means "the more you know".)
I think a strong ego, a sense of "I", would be key to adapting to a different morphology and set of instincts accompanying a bodily transformation like the one described in this story.
Thank you.
Sometimes it's easier to run away and not look back. But you'll always have that gnawing parasprite in your head.
Also leaving this fic unfinished would be a travesty.
Just read the whole thing through, and I love it. It's good to hear that you intend to finish it.
A few thoughts.
I find it funny that Gregoria is essentially scared of not being scared enough. It's an insidious thought, to be sure, but it's also something of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Either she's scared because she's begun to calm down, or she's just scared.
Those little excerpts at the start of the chapter gave me a silly idea. Imagine a world in which everyone is a pony or griffon or whatever, but they perceive others as being human. The rampant paranoia and self-consciousness, from an outsider's perspective, would just be hilarious.
It's been implied pretty heavily that the ponies could recognize other ponies on sight. Admittedly, we have a rather small sample size of non-humans at the moment, but they don't seem to know of any others yet. Well, Mr. Crown might. Still, this whole, um, thing has been going on since 1924 at the latest (Kafka's date of death), assuming Kafka's body wasn't transformed posthumously. We can infer from this that the thing is working at a very, very slow rate.
I'm guessing Kafka was a changeling, and that served as the inspiration for Metamorphosis. It would also sort of explain his, uh, love life. (Check out Wikipedia.)
The unicorns and pegasi must find this state of affairs a little frustrating, having to carefully regulate the use of their talents so as not to tip people off. They might be able to get away with hovering a few feet off the ground, or floating items off the top of a shelf, but anything bigger and they risk blowing someone's mind.
And... that's all I've got for now.
YES!!! It's back!
Thank you so much for not giving up on this! I really love this story and it deserves to be completed. You're the best!
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You are very dead on and correct, I love that you caught the detail about Kafka's love life and his... transformation, and I am glad you are enjoying the story.
The issue of when this all started is going to become a very curious matter, and I will be dealing with all the issues the transformations imply, as well as establishing a reason for them and more. These things are coming, soon. But not too soon.
Foreplay first, climax later.
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Yes! You noticed my delta! Thank you!
This was a rather well written chapter, showing that the transformation is not strictly limited to a certain area, or (at least with the information present) a certain demographic of people. It is rather interesting to see how other certain cultures would handle this type of massive body change, ranging from divine intervention, to a practical viewpoint of it. And yet, it seems that many people, for the most part, are left for just adjust and figure out how they are to live now. I also did enjoy the concept of what truly makes us human in the first place. I also do think that someone with a strong sense of self identity that is rooted in their personality would help with the transformation as well. Overall, this was a great chapter, and I can't wait to see what happens next!
I find it interesting that so far, we have had only one case where it seems that someone is able to identify transformed individuals. Malus Crown has shown himself to see other individuals through pictures and in person, and seems to know what specific thing that he is hunting for. Yet, while it is heavily implied that he is one of these individuals, and the fact that transformed individuals are able to see transformed items and pictures(sounds might be included, but has not yet been shown within the story, I believe) there is nothing definitely showing Crown is a transformed individual, or even what type of creature he is(again, if he is a transformed person). If this is the case, it makes me wonder if it is something that, even if you are changed, is there something else needed to change to allow someone to see another individual? And if (Ugh, I need a word for transformed people..... I'll go with Metas) Metas can see and hear things that other people cannot, I wonder if there are actual hidden messages all over society for them? A way for them to communicate among themselves and able to get together to figure out a place to meet and live? A version of ponyville in the real world? Also, since Kafka has been stated to be a changeling, this raises whether what species is random or is there something determining what form an individual takes? I admit, this is all conjecture and may be proven completely false, but I am interested to see how all this will play out.
(Also, my german is very rusty, but doesn't that roughly translate to "Here hangs the pot?" Again, it's been a long time since high school german class. If so, I'm afraid that I do not understand the context? I am assuming that it is a native german saying, but I would love to know for sure!)
(Also, this has gotten me interested in "Metamorphosis". All I can say is, sweet Celestia, that was depressing)
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First Pony View is also pretty interesting.
In other news! Scritchies! Noooo! It's like the Yuppers, but worse!
I am very, very glad to see you back.
We all are.
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To be slightly petty, 'I saw it too!'
That said, I didn't think "oh, the symbol for change in a story where the main character is changing", because i was too busy jumping into the next section of the story.
YE GODS AND LITTLE FISHES it is GOOD to see an update.
Take all the time you need to deal with that cantankerous old coot of a computer you've got there, I think all of us have patience enough for that.
Reading the opening scenes, I'm reminded of Rousseau's conclusion that for a society capable of supporting the "General Will" to be created, a law maker who existed outside of time and nature would have to present themselves.
Beginning of that paragraph needs to be capitalized.
2671863 I read "The Metamorphosis" well before I read this, but yeah, downer ending for that Gregor.
Slowly catching up on the reading I skipped out on when you had left. I look forward to your future updates. Also, good luck with your computer.
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That's not a German saying, because it's not German. That scene plays in Brussels and the language is Dutch (I think). Funny thing: if you go to Brussels a French dictionary will help you more than a Dutch. I don't think that sentence has any real relevance to the story.
CHAT!
I heard it, I didn't know if it was true, but I came back to Fimfiction and I see story updates :D
This has got to be the most glorious thing that has happened in a long time, and its nice to have you back with us.
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That made me get Journey's Don't Stop Believing stuck in my head, it's an good song though!
Finally getting around to reading these updates, and to the end of the story!
Ehhh?—
It's, it's … just too cute!
This line of reasoning has been one that I have had for a long time now, and is one of the major attractions for me wanting to be a pony. That dang efficient herbivorous digestive system. Although our ordinary terrestrial horses need to eat quite often. I like how those magical ponies could go at it with a sugary cake or just a generally wide variety of mostly plant based foods, and still live. From what I read on wikipedia on equine nutrition, horses here have very delicate stomachs due to the need to let the bacteria in the—I think is was the intestines, or there abouts—adapt to the new diet. This has the result of constricting horses to a very boring diet with little margin for surprises.
One of these days, I should just write a blog listing everything I like about pony anatomy and culture, thereby allowing me to save time whenever I want to mention them in a comment, simply by linking to it.
Speaking of pony culture, I've been reading (and re-reading) a certain clop-fic (I think “erotic-romance” would better describe it), that I, and others, think has a really cool take on what pony cultural would be like. It shows the contrasts between human, mostly western, culture and pony culture, from the viewpoint of the pony. And example of one of the differences shown, is the role reversals of males and females. There are lots of neat little things like this in the story and it's side stories, to make it interesting on top of the—in my opinion—good romance and uh … other stuff. I don't know if you categorically dislike and/or avoid clop-fics, or if you even have time to read other stories. I don't want to offend you by suggesting them to you, but then, if I don't ask, I won't know. I only know I've never seen you publish any stories mature rated stories with sex tagged, and that is not a good indicator of someone's preference in reading material, as they make like reading it, but not like writing it.
While I'm at it, how do you pronounce your username? It's been bugging me since I first saw it. I've been pronouncing it as /tʃætɔɪænts/. And while I was looking up how to write a pronunciation all fancy and formal like, I struck upon the idea to plug your username into wiktionary, and see what may be seen. Is the word chatoyant relevant to your name at all?
That's interesting. Inkwell experiences something like that in Recombinant 63, I think, but this is the first time I see it stated plainly.
eeeee but she's just so adorable!!!
*squee*
[The thought of innocent animals breaking their necks made pony Gregoria shiver and feel very sad. ] This shouldn't make me laugh but it does. The way it is put in mixed with how tired I am, makes it utterly hilarious.
"Even hell still meant you still existed."
I am just going to put that in my little folder of treasured quotes thank you.
That Chris Hadfield reference :D
There's one major flaw in Rachel's thesis (although it is a... human mistake to make). The earth pony has evolved to a position on Equestria very similar to humanity's on Earth. This implies that it has the same ability to adapt to new environments and new things as we do.
I'm very interested about the number of 'changed' buildings. I'm thinking this is the work of architects who were also Changed individuals who have built to an Equestrian aesthetic rather than a human one. Interestingly, the illusion magic that protects the Changed also meant that no human was capable of perceiving the alien designs.
Again, "earth ponies" is two words.
In Chapter 4, you said our main character's name was Gregoria Samson. But now here, in chapter 7, this chapter, you said her name is "Gregoria Samsa". What is her correct last name, and can you fix it so her last name is the same everywhere in the story?
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It's an amazing thing, but you can edit, re-edit, and pour over a document looking for errors and no matter how hard you try, or how many times you search, there will always be one error left. Her name is Gregoria Samson, but the reason for the error is because she is a reference, a clever one I thought, to the character of 'Gregor Samsa' from Franz Kafka's 'Metamorphosis' - which is one of the inspirations for the entire tale.
Since a play on a name is an easy thing to become confused about, it is awful easy to have the ol' brain do a brain-fart and slip in the name one is referring to, rather than the name chosen as a play on it. I can't tell you how many times that sort of untraceable error happens to me. I call it untraceable, because, being that the error is not actually an error - both Samson and Samsa are real names - perceptual blindness (the very same sort that works in this story) makes seeing the incorrect placement of the name effectively invisible.
The only hope is it being caught, by chance, by a reader. Which you just did! Huzzah! Think about it, it's kind of amazing, really - 2,970 other people went over this very same page and not one of them caught that error... until you. Folks always tell me if there's an error. You are literally one in 2,970. Pretty astonishing, in a way.
So, thanks for catching that error. It's corrected now.
Okay, I ought to have a good block of time for at least one chapter.
Huh, and we appear to be starting with someone completely new!
A pegasus! This ought to be interesting. And he doesn't seem to be familiar with FiM at all.
He seems to be taking to his new body quiet gracefully.
And someone else new! Is this chapter to be a tour around the world, then?
And another building. That's still not as baffling as the Keebler elves, but I don't yet have a particularly good explanation.
Ah, and back to Gregoria. Things seem to be going well with her at the moment.
Gregoria still seems to not be accepting it with a tremendous amount of grace, though.
Heh, a friend of mine made that same deduction about pony aging. :D
"A quick check on the internet by Rachel revealed that some clever wag had used statistical analysis to measure the population and size of Ponyville from the images on the show, and had made an estimate of how long it would take a town to grow to that size. It was most likely that Granny Smith was more like three hundred years old."
Ooh, I've not seen that, though.
"But I keep getting used to it!"
Such as, say, not noticing that you just swore to Luna? :)
I'm not sure about Gregoria still being properly classified as human, but I don't plan to tell her (or Celesai) that; I don't think that there's a problem here anyway, and it seems to be helping her cope. And, you know, shouting advice at my screen very rarely gets it through to the characters. :)
It's certainly nice to see her being more accepting of her new body.
On a related note, the notion of adaptability being what makes humans special is an interesting one. I'm not sure if even that's uniquely human (on Earth at the moment; in the whole of space and time, it pretty much certainly isn't), but we certainly seem to be the best at it in the known universe.
Anyway, it looks like I have time for another chapter!
Holy shit! I just realized, Gregoria doesn't have a cutie mark! I'm calling it right now, Gregoria will get her cutie mark either at the end or the climax of this story.
I guess, that was Rachel's computer, not Gregoria's.
In case anyone reading this is not aware: this also works on humans. They just have failed to integrate this into their own social interaction for the most part.