Prologue: Theorem Over Coffee
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The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
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There were things in his conscience that would not go silent, and for this disquiet, he could afford no room. The more he mulled over banishing these errant feelings, however, the more errant his mental landscape became. He looked across the small cafe table. A mint-green mare stared back at him. Her golden eyes were wide, but slightly apprehensive, and her mouth hung open. She had probably just spoken, and was awaiting a response. He honestly hadn't been paying attention.
“I apologize. My mind was wandering. What did you just say?” His voice was distant.
“Oh, that's okay,” she smiled anxiously, “Anyway, I was asking about transmutation spells. I've been really interested in them lately, especially the concept of permanent living transmutations. Do you remember me saying that?”
Tall windows made up three quarters of the cafe's front wall, extending from mid-leg to the ceiling, and pane-to-pane from one wall to the other. They were interrupted only by a pillar on either side of the doorway, and in the far corner, where dusty glass framed a small alcove that took up a quarter of the far wall.
A bright wall of mid-day sun filtered in, giving the edges of every mare and stallion a hazy, dusty glow. The thin film of dust was ubiquitous. After all, this town only had dirt streets. Ponyville, it was called. These small hamlets were so quaint.
From his seat, he could see some distance down the main thoroughfare. Ponies milled about their daily tasks. Buying and selling. Playing with their foals. Meaningless trivialities marking the stretch of meaningless lives.
Again, his attention had drifted.
“Tell me again about your theory...,” he struggled to remember her name through the fog. His entire demeanor was impassive and emotionless.
“Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings”, she piped, seeming to sense the inflection in his tone.
“To deeds of fame and notes of fire...,” he mused absentmindedly.
“What? That's the second time you've said that.”
“It's nothing. You were talking about permanent transmutation.”
“Yeah! So, I was thinking that if you could stabilize the new body's structure somehow, the transformed entity wouldn't revert, or it wouldn't take constant concentration to maintain. You could create entire new species at will, or permanently change aspects of old ones.” Her words bubbled with enthusiasm, here eyes were wide and her cheeks were mildly flushed. "Could you imagine? All of nature would be your canvas. I've been reading about human history lately. Well, human 'mythology', everyone calls it, but the books are waaaaay too elaborate to just be about a myth. They had mythologies of their own. Why develop mythology for your mythologic creatures to believe?”
There was something about this mare. He listened.
“It just doesn't make sense. I mean, what happened to them? Extinction is too easy an answer, and I'm throwing Oberlander's Razor out the window here. What if they became something else? What if all of the human beings collectively became another species? I mean, this would be well into the Pre-Equestrian Era. Studies done on studies, chaining back waaaaay before Celestia. Why maintain them?”
“So... you're implying that humans became...”
“I don't know, but my primary conclusions is, get this... us. Ponies. That would explain the language and cultural similarities. What if humans collectively became us?” She was now leaning forward in her seat, staring at him eagerly.
His look of mild shock was the most emotion he'd shown in recent memory.
“That's... ridiculous. I assure you, your theory is wrong.”
“But how can you knooooow that?”
He closed his mouth. Amusing, he thought. He didn't respond.
“It would take a lot more study. I'm interested in how the Changelings transform reflexively, and what exactly their transformations entail. They can supposedly make minor changes to their size and mass, and maybe even their composition.” She was gushing now. “I mean, I was around Queen Chrysalis for weeks, but I was under mind control. I'd give my left eye for a chance to talk to her.”
'Queen' Chrysalis. He almost chuckled.
“How do you think magic really works?” he interjected.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what is the nature of magic itself? What is the difference between what is natural and what is magical?”
“I... I don't know. Is that a trick question? I mean, magic isn't my life. I'm a musician by trade. Magic is a recent obsession.”
That's what happens with inborn talent. One never thinks about how it works.
"If you're interested in transmutation, why not ask Discord? He more or less invented it, didn't he? I heard he's more... amicable these days."
"Yeah. That's an idea", she crooned as her eyes grew wide.
A young pegasi mare in a pink scarf and hat walked by the window. He was immediately aware of her, like a nail pushed into his consciousness, but paid no overt attention. Her long pink mane was brushed forward, obscuring her face. A bundled-up rabbit lounged on her back.
Most were like pebbles in the flow of the now, but this one felt like an opposing current. A deviation in the riverbed. She had touched an Element of Harmony, and the resonance of that energy pushed back against him. At this distance, it was palpable.
“I must be going. It was nice talking with you”, he said flatly. He magically manipulated his book closed and slid it into his sash pouch. The brown fabric hung loosely around his white wither-coat, tied on the right just below his neck. He removed a few bits and dropped them on the table. As he stood, the book clacked against the mask that had been resting inside.
“One last thing. How did your horn get like that?”
“Hmmm?” He looked up at his horn.
“It barely has any whorls. I've never seen a unicorn horn like it.”
Again, he didn't answer.
She looked like she was about to say something else, but he was already on his way out. She would probably be offended. He didn't care. He didn't look back to check. The crisp winter air whipped past him as he stepped through the door and into the street. The sounds of everyday bustle filled his ears. He still had a lot to see today before he caught the train. Oh these charming, quaint hamlets.
May as well enjoy it.
He wasn't going to be the one to burn it down.
