Numbers

by TheTraxicEnd

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Human
Length: 3786

God 115 is a human who stumbles into Equestria after failing to discorporate. He grokked so wrongly, that the wrong canceled itself out. Hopefully, he'll be able to grok Equestria rightly...

God 115, a human living on Mars in a society that does not look or think like him, lives his everyday life of working for the elders, the Ones. He has lived this way since he could remember, and he doesn't want it to change. But as time progresses, he sees himself as foreign due to his appearance. He sees himself as sick and wrong and because of this, his emotions soon affect his work ethic and social interaction. This worries him due to the threat of discorporation looming in the back of his mind. If he doesn't fix this soon, he'll discorporate like the rest of his brothers. The elders teach him that he should not be so emotional and fearful of it, but is it his fault he has to conceal his emotions to survive? Only God Elder Razz decides his fate. Even though God 115 knows he will someday discorporate, he will face it head on. When that time comes…

…he will fail miserably.

All the while, a certain pony is in town, delivering her shipment of apple pies to Mrs. Greene, the founder of the small village by the bayou. This is usually an interesting one day trip…

…but she didn't expect this whole dozy to happen.

Written by: Soaring

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-09-29 16:50:03 UTC

Natural Instinct

Natural Instinct

I was once a normal... being, sitting down upon the chairs of my martian brothers, who sat around the large… table of the Ones, my elders. They took us nestlings and told us what to do. Whether we were to work in the mines to gather resources for the colony, or to build up the necessary structures to survive on Red did not matter; we have to obey them. We were to discorporate when we were told to, our needs were not existent. Discorporation was… a common practice. We didn’t see it as sad or heartbreaking…

Our emotions were closed shut. We didn’t have to worry about those bothersome things. They would limit our ability to think and blind us from seeing the whole picture. We didn’t need them. They just needed us as a host of their vile and disturbing desires. We.... we didn’t need to grok them. They were wrong as they stood.

So we… sent them away. There was no more rhyme or reason to keep them in existence. They, who wrongly grokked and were told to discorporate, were shrunk down and disregarded. No more was those who were wrong, their inability to rightly grok kept them back from being like us: Gods. I am God, you are God, they, the elders, are Gods; any object who groks its existence is God. We’re Gods. We…

...are one united being of God.

But God is not he, but is us. We are all God, but share in the title of God.

I am God 115 who resides in the house of the Strong and a nestling who lives with my… elders.

This is my story.

I stand tall, wiping my brow free from the perspiration that of which forms itself upon my forehead. I sigh, letting off the steam of my annoying sticky self. I need to find shade, some water of some sort. I need it.

I rush from my post, merely ignoring the falling lift that crashes to the ground in a heap on the gravel surface. I look back, seeing the cloud of dust and smoke from the resulting ignorance of my ways. i couldn’t be bothered, my break time was shot down after the elders wanted me to do an extra bit of collecting ores upon the surface. I couldn’t… really deal with them at the moment.

I grok my surroundings: the planet’s distinguishable feature of a saturated red hue is not apparent to me. The red hue is just meaningless, floating dust particles. Nothing new here, the red dusty landscape never colliding with our very well-built construct of conflicting elements: a large dome surrounding our peaceful village, shielding us from the harsh elements that this planet brings, and our wondrous utopia of glistening spires, which attempt to escape the dome with their high, metallic designs. We only leave the dome if we need to scout the area for resources, but even then, we rarely need to do that. We grow our sustenance from the confines of our… home. It’s helpful.

After running for a few, I find a generous amount of shade underneath the Tower of Transmission, the beacon of where all of those who belong to the grounds of the Ones with the family names of Strong, Will, and Intelligence would communicate among each other. This tower was created by my forefathers of the Strong who… discorporated after seeing the point of no return arrive. It was… jarring, the point of no return simply slapping them in the face as the reservoirs of our tribe’s water dwindling faster and faster as the days went by. They tried so hard to find a way to reason this downfall, but no way did they grok it. They gave up, their inability to see past the situation and come to an agreement made them agree to discorporate at once. Nothing, not even those who had been born of those who did this could not believe the happening. No warning was given out…

The transmissions were silent.

Thankfully, one elder did not discorporate as he saw that doing this over a matter of water was not worth it; there was much more to grok still on this planet. As a result, the lone elder asked for help from the other houses, creating the transmission tower. We combined houses and brainstormed a way to be able to solve the problem: we traded with the other tribes and built up our reservoir by scouting for a source.

After a while, we found one: a stream that flowed alongside the mountains of the unknown. Thankfully, this source was not guarded by the creatures of the shadows. They would kill us if we tapped into their water sources. Once the connection was made, we drew our water and…

...now I’m using said water as nourishment, drawing it from the fountains of life which protrude from the side of our golden tower of paradise. Hopefully, this water isn’t contaminated from the elder’s unhealthy habits. He likes to use these fountains as spittakers. What is wrong with him?

No matter, I ignore the thought of being contaminated as I sip on the… water.

It was fulfilling…

“115.”

I hear the voice call my name, causing my short water break to momentarily be interrupted by this… elder?

He stood up to my eyes.

We stood up in the shade.

We stood up, glaring at one of the other.

“Elder Razz.”

He looks at me as I uttered his name, eying my appearance of battered clothes and my face covered in soot and dust. “You… finish the work, my nestling?”

I shake my head, much to his knowing chagrin. “My break was never fully realized by the others, so I had to fill in where those who recently discorporated did not.”

“There was discorporation on the site?” the elder says in astonishment. “Didn’t those who were to discorporate were to do so in night hours?”

“Only those who did not want to disobey the law of the land,” I say with precision, remembering the law of our tribes to the T. “We were working when two randomly shrunk down and left; the lift almost collapsed due to their sudden discorporations.”

The elder mutters and grumbles underneath his breath as he brings his glare to a soft expression. “Well, once you are done here, may you bring yourself to complete the task of capturing the ores of life, brother.”

I groan internally, not allowing my calm, unreadable demeanor to be altered. “As you wish, Elder of the Strong.”

He smiles and walks past me, his languid stride showing his rank, his lack of care…

I shake my head. I cannot and will not wrongly grok my advisor, no matter what he does to me. This is not one with rightness would do. I must control this…

I stand still, observing the calm streets of our paradise be absent, clear of any of my brothers. This break shall be cut short, I do not want to be seen as a slacker from my elders, the Ones. They must not think of me as a lowly servant, or I shall have to discorporate early.

I sigh and begin to walk out in the hot weather, the sun beating down on my head. Even though we were far from the light of life, I could not stop perspiration from continuing. The Ones saw this as a problem as no other of my kind did this. They did not get hot, nor did they get cold. They did not do this, yet I look like them.

Am I… sick?

I open the gate to the worksite, shutting it behind me as I continue my train of thought. No, I mustn’t be sick, I must be just different. An epitome of differences, a distinctly different being…

Different.

I come upon the lift.

Maybe I’m just different.

I grip the back end of the lift.

Maybe I’m not them…

I slam it to the upward position, raising the bar higher with the ore containers suspended by the strong pulley system.

Maybe I’m not a nestling.

I move the containers towards the loader, setting them down gently on the truck bed. “Go take her for a spin there, 232!”

Rosland raises his arm and gives me the signal, his wrist twisting in a deformed fashion. “Thanks,” he acknowledges, before speeding away, the containers bouncing around as he travels on the road.

It is time to continue mining. The ores can’t mine themselves…

I… walk into the mine…

...and begin my work.

I need to discorporate.

The bosses won’t find out what happened.

I cannot find a reason not to grok this and be horrified.

There is no way I can fix this without facing the consequences of exile and the removal of discorporation.

I have t-

“God 115!” barked the all-too-familiar elder. “You okay down there?”

I’m so screwed.

“I’m f-fine!” I nervously reply, my voice cracking.

“Well brother, your voice is breaking!” The elder is close. “You do know that means you're nervous?”

Why do the Ones be so smart?

I turn to face my elder. “Yes, but I’m not nervous.”

The elder, now in full view, smiles at me. “I’m glad.”

I nod politely as I stand in front of him, a smile concealing the emotions I’m feeling at the moment. I cannot let him think I did something as bad as I did.

He looks past my form. “Are you… ready to show me your work?”

I reluctantly sigh and let him pass, giving him full passage to the mine. “You shall, brother.”

He smiles and walks passed me, his gait still the same as before, slow and ever-so-short. He stares at the mine, the mess of all messes: my fuck up. The mining equipment all lay in disarray after having a run in with two shadows… they could’ve killed me.

I didn’t want to discorporate.

So, I took my aim and killed one of them with my pickaxe.

We had a law placed that those who chose to kill were told to discorporate, especially if it were for purposes against another of our brothers.

This?

Well, it would’ve been fine if that other shadow did not retaliate by destroyed one of the only pathways left to the ore supply and…

...we don’t have the equipment made to handle this amount of rock.

The elder turns his attention to me and points. “Brother, did you do this?”

I… don’t know what I shall do here.

I shakily sigh and stand beside my superior. “I... I had a bit of a run-in with a pair of shadows God Elder Razz the Strong. I-”

“You mean shadows were in that mine?” His face, full of shock. “How could that have happened?”

I wisely keep my mouth shut.

“Well,” he says outright. “We must get more to help to do this job rightly.” He turns to me, his eyes staring into mine. “You did this wrongly… very wrongly. I’m disappointed.”

My heart drops into the sinking quicksand. “I apologize Elder Razz I-”

“Discorporate.”

“Pardon?”

He clears his throat. “I do not one who is careless and acts upon barbaric impulses to run this mine.” He puts his disced hand on my shoulder. “Brother, you must discorporate in order to help us.”

Helping? I’m going to die! That…

...isn’t right.

“But I can do so mu-”

“If you don’t do it, I must make you discorporate myself,” Elder Razz interrupts. “You do not want that, do you?”

I shake my head. I… am going to die.

I nod and prepare myself. I must will myself to die.

I close off all valves, all entrances to receive the water of life.

In seconds, I stop existing, the darkness of black encompassing my vision.

…

Wait, I’m supposed to be dead.

I open my eyes and look around, the ground is much greener here.

Where am I?

I walk forward, the dark night skies with stars beyond the knowledge I encompass. I… don’t know any of them.

Nor do I know what this village that is in front of me is.

I hide behind a bush, barely peeking my head over it to see if I can find some sort of notification of where I am. I crane my neck around the trees that cover my being. There is only one, small sign that tells me of what this place is, the sign swinging gently in the breeze above the entrance of a fairly large structure.

“Hollow… Shades?”

Hollow Shades

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?”