Numbers

Hollow Shades

I attempt to grok this. Hollow, a word foreign to my… elders. The words do not come out, nor do they want to, for it is empty. Maybe that’s why it is called hollow: emptiness. But where does emptiness come into play for a town? Is it empty and its people are all but excited and joyful? Do they not have emotion?

Then there is the second half of the town name: shades. How can there be emptiness with shades of which conceal things from the line of sight? Maybe the forest is the concealer? Because even then, I can still pass through the vines, trees, and plentiful amounts of bushes and be able to see through the blinders. Maybe, maybe the shades are a misnomer to what is actually there?

Could it be… that the elder of this village is upset and cannot come out to address his nestlings?

Maybe.

I must grok this.

I leave my hiding spot and walk towards the building. I gawk at it, the design is basic, yet different on so many levels to what I have grokked. Wood being used to build constructs like this? This is not… something I can grok rightly. Wood is flammable and not as durable as metal. But, on the other hand, they do have a lot of wood around…

“Thank ya kindly Mrs. Greene!”

Oh no… I gotta hide!

I slip out of sight, hiding behind the structure as I hear footsteps descend from the elevated building.

“Don’tcha worry! We’ll be back tomorrow mornin’ to bring the rest of the shipment in!”

Shipment?

I crane my head around the corner, flabberghasted as I hear the brother’s words. I have never heard of a ‘shipment’. Unless you… take a ship and make amends with it. Maybe that’s what it is. Or maybe… maybe it deals the ships of life?

I’ll have to grok that at a later time, right now, I must see who is speaking.

“Alright honey, I’ll make sure the boys be up bright and early for ya deliverin’!”

Older brother with a feminine tone. Must be an Old One.

“You bet’cha! They don’t wanna miss some Sweet Apple Acres pie now do they?”

Another Old One, conversing about… a new location of some sort. Sweet Apple Acres…

I must investigate.

No longer afraid of these voices, I stumble out of my hiding place and approach the situation. I find…

An animal of distinct origin, staring wide-eyed at my form.

“What’re ya?”

So this… lifeform can talk. Maybe… it is a God?

“I am a… well, a being. I-”

“You can speak mah language?” the brother says, his mouth agape as he stares up and down my body. “But… I have never seen someone like ya before!”

My feel myself tense up as I stand tall, unafraid of the mere short… thing in front of me. “I could say the same to you, brother.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Brother? I’m no brother of yours. You’re a…” His mouth scrunches up. “What’re you?”

“A number! I am a God, a nestling, a being who obeys the Ones! I-”

He comes up and puts his deformed foot in my mouth, shutting me up as he glares at me. “You need to stop the ramblin’. Now, how about you and I have a nice conversation where we don’t harm or annoy anypony.” He looks around before returning his gaze to mine. “How about at the shanty? Maybe ya like some beer?”

I remove the dirty talking animal’s foot from my mouth. Beer sounded… nice. “Of course, young… pony?”

It nodded. “The name’s Applejack.”

“Okay, Applejack, my name’s 115.” I offer it my hand.

The pony glares at it and brings its… deformity to my hand. Then, the pony grasps it and shakes it. “Might I just call ya Five?”

“You… may,” I say in defeat as I retract my hand. Most just used the last digit in informal conversation, that is, if no one else who ended with a five existed. We stare at each other for a second longer, before the pony leads on, walking towards the shanty. I follow it into the establishment, the doorway almost nicking me in the head. My height… should never have been an issue. Unfortunately, my brothers didn’t worry, for they too were tall. These pony folk on the other hand… they are entirely different yet speak the same language. They are animals, much like us. Would they too be Gods? Are they brothers of mine but in different forms?

Those will have to wait, for I am now being stared at by the party of pony folk in the shanty.

“Why hello, Applejack!” shouts another feminine toned pony. Must be another Old One. “How did the shipment go?”

Applejack perks up and grins. “Mighty fine, thank ya for askin’.”

“That’s great! Ya here to celebrate or somethin’?” the Old One asks.

Applejack shakes his head as I stroll on up behind him. “Nope, I have this big lug to talk to, it appeared from behind Mrs. Greene’s house!”

I raise an eyebrow. “You know I’m right here, right?” Before Applejack could say anything, I add, “And I’m a brother, if you are wondering.”

He grins. “So is everyone a brother to you?”

“We,” I begin, struggling to decipher what she meant by brother in this context. Brother is all that we had, there was an old term used by some aliens from the distant planet that unfortunately was wiped out when they arrived on our planet by the shadows that reside there. Thankfully, we rose from the ashes and took control of the shadows. “We don’t have a true term for another type of gender.”

This got majority of the pony folk to stop and spit take. “You’re serious?” I hear Applejack say from beside me. I look down at the table and lay my arms on it. I must’ve grokked it wrong.

Then, I feel Applejack’s hooves bring me close. “Look at me.”

I do so.

“I am a mare, a... sister, in your terms.”

“So you are he who speaks?”

A nestling from behind me laughs. “He called ya a he there Applejack!”

Applejack ignores them with a quick eye roll. The sister brings his glare to me. “No, I am she who speaks to ya.”

She?

“Is… she what one who is not a brother identifies as?”

Applejack nods. “I am a she, and the barista here is a she.”

I look up at who Applejack is speaking of. The she of the one who Applejack speaks of has different hues of blues and greens. She has eyes that were… calming to stare at. She is bright… with beauty, her mane lays down beside her.

With one utterance, she had me hooked. “Howdy.”

“Are you God?”

That baffled her. “Excuse me?”

“Are you God?” I point to Applejack. “Because she herself is one as well and I just want to make sure you are too.”

Applejack was flowered at this point. “When did I say that?”

I sigh heavily. “If… you’re here, then you must be a God, because this place is free of religion.” I look up at her. “Right?”

The room was silent.

Not a peep to be heard.

Not even a mouse.

“Did… Did I grok that wrongly?”

“Sugarcube,” Applejack addresses me as I look at her. “Do you know where you’re at right now?”

“The Utopian Colony of Mars,” I state proudly as I point at my shirt, the colony’s logo blazoned on my shoulder. “Why you ask?”

The barista and Applejack both gawk at me. “Mars?” Applejack asks. “Five that’s not a place her-“

Place?” I echo back. “That’s not a place! That’s my planet!”

Applejack raises an eyebrow. “Planet?”

“Yes! Mars! The big red one!” I say while waving my arms around, knowing that these lifeforms… like it that way. Applejack watches me as I do this act of aimlessly whipping my arms around. “The big red planet in the solar system, where we who walk as brothers roam and live in peace! Is this not it?”

“Did you not notice that this planet is green?” a stallion pipes up, as the room erupts into laughter.

Green.

He is right, I did not grok this. This planet is green, while mine is red. Even I rarely saw those colors, the Ones who teach only knew of them in more detail, while we nestlings knew oh-so-little. I wish we were taught more at a younger age, but we nestlings never do. I look at Applejack, who is not laughing, but rather holding my hand in her… foot?

“Don’t worry about them,” she says to me. “They’re just fussin’.”

I give her a bright smile in response. “Thanks... Applejack.”

“No problem. Now then, I’m going to be honest with you, but you’re not on this Mars planet you’re speaking of.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re not on Mars…”

I look around to see the rest of the pony folk stop their guaffing, their eyes now set upon the standing biped. “So I didn’t discorporate!?”

“Discorporate?”

“I am supposed to be dead, Applejack!”

She stands on all fours, glaring at me. “You do not say that around here!”

I tilt my head at her negative reaction. “Did I grok wrong?”

“Yes you did!” Applejack growls out. She stomps her hooves on the ground in frustration. “You cannot just take your own life!”

“Yes I can,” I explain, making everyone in the room silent. “It’s called the process of discorporation which has been passed down from generation to generation among my people. It’s a common practice where when one groks to the wrongest extremes, then they must discorporate to allow new nestlings to take your place so that you will never make another mistake ever again. It’s… alarming to an outsider.”

“Alarmin?”

Not another word came from her mouth, as those around us began to move closer with their facial expressions mimicking Applejack’s agape mouth and wide eyes.

“Sugarcube, you mind if I take you to see somepony I know?”