Cycles

by Jarvy Jared

Rating: everyone
Tags: Mrs. Cake, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Random, Pinkie Pie
Length: 3058

Pinkie Pie questions life.

Pinkie Pie finds herself asking a rather difficult question.

Published 2015-07-01 17:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-01 17:10:01 UTC

The Meaning Of It All

Pinkie Pie sat in her room, admiring her work. A large table had been set up, carrying several batches of cake batter and cups of flour in the center. The left side of the table held all the mixers and bowls that one could need when baking delicacies; towards the right end were the toppings and fruits. Her smile widened as she glanced around, seeing that everything was prepped and ready.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders were coming in later in the afternoon, on another quest to obtain their Cutie Mark. Since they couldn’t get it from Twilight’s teachings, they had opted to try Pinkie’s methods.

“And what better way to get a Cutie Mark than by baking?” Pinkie asked aloud, hooves spread and on her hind legs. “It’s only the most fun way of getting one!”

Something was missing from the room however; something Pinkie quickly noticed. Her mane deflated slightly as she glanced around once more; then puffed back up to its usual size as she realized what it was. “Balloons! I need balloons!” She laughed and grabbed Gummy, her pet alligator, and sauntered off into the closet. She grabbed a few flat balloons and proceeded to pump them up rapidly, Gummy watching through crossed eyes. Eventually she finished the set, and ran around the room, setting them up all around.

She returned back to the center, hooves on her hips, the big smile returning to her lips.

“There!” she said happily. “Now it’s all ready!”

She danced around happily, humming as she cleaned up the mess. “I wonder if any of CMC will get their Cutie Mark today!” She gasped loudly. “Maybe in baking! Or, if that doesn’t work, maybe they can help me with getting the town to smile! Or parties!”

She danced for a bit, before the last phrase made her pause. “Parties,” she murmured, thinking. “That’s my special talent. In fact, baking and getting ponies to smile are also part of my special talent.” She glanced at her Cutie Mark, the two blue balloons and one yellow balloon slightly glowing. “Funny how I said that, thinking that the CMC could get similar Cutie Marks…”

She placed a hoof on her chin pensively. “Come to think of it, I’ve met another pony who had a similar talent. Cheese Sandwich!” She smiled slightly as she remember Sandwich’s arrival in Ponyville. Pinkie had welcomed him in earnest, but quickly found out that most of Ponyville had accepted him even more. So much so, that Rainbow Dash had considered making Sandwich the pony to plan Rainbow’s birthday/move-to-Ponyville-anniversary party—something that Pinkie had thought was her privilege. Pinkie had challenged Cheese to a Goof-Off; but decided to cut the competition off, as she had realized that she was no longer making everypony smile. They had reached a compromise, and made Rainbow’s party a huge success.

The more she remembered, though, the more she started to question. At that time, she had felt that her position as the prime party-planner of Ponyville was being challenged by Sandwich. Naturally, she had responded as anypony might, if their role was suddenly usurped; she had fought back, trying to prove that she deserved the role. Of course, in the end, both she and Sandwich had resolved their dispute, and had become good friends. Though sometimes she still felt a bit guilty over her actions.

But should I be? she wondered. I mean, my actions were justifiable, right?

She considered the dilemma. On one hoof, her desire to prove she was the only party-planner of Ponyville was in bad taste; she was unwilling to let somepony else in and try to make the town smile. Yet, on the other hoof, she was doing what any other pony would do, if they thought their special talent was being taken from them—defending her role in society.

I thought I was being replaced. And I wasn’t. But isn’t that still a possibility?

Could a pony’s role in society, as determined by his or her Cutie Mark, be usurped by another pony with a similar talent? Especially when that other pony could do it better?

I have a Pinkie Sense; Cheese had a Cheesy Sense. Perhaps we were more similar than we had realized.

Not just in talent, but in personality, too. Both Pinkie and Cheese were highly exuberant, always willing to make a pony smile. Both wanted a good time, both wanted to have fun, both loved to party.

I guess I can see why Rainbow had chosen him over me to plan for her party. I mean, I have a Party Cannon; and he had a Party Tank!

In that sense, then, I could have been replaced. Not physically, of course; but as a party-planner. And, in many ways, Cheese was better at making ponies smile than I am!

She shook her head. Cheese never intended to take her place as prime party-planner. He was just passing on through, never meaning to stay forever.

And, I, too, will pass on.

She froze. Where did that thought come from? Desperately, she tried to banish it from her consciousness, but it refused to budge. Its voice only grew louder, telling the same thing.

I, too, will pass on.

I, too, will pass on.

We all will pass on.

I make all these ponies smile. I try to help the Cutie Mark Crusaders get their marks. I teach ponies how to laugh and enjoy life. Yet, in the end, is it all pointless?

She placed a hoof on her forehead and sat down, closing her eyes. Why was she thinking like this? She was Pinkie Pie; the happy-go-lucky, always smiling, pink mare!

Why on Equestria was she questioning the ifs and whys of life?

Is it all pointless? My time here is limited; perhaps I will last until the next two generations. Perhaps not. One thing is certain; I won’t be permanent.

I’ll be replaced. With somepony else. Another pony or creature that will take my place as the laughing pony.

We all will be replaced in time…

She felt something wet fall down her cheeks, but she did not wipe it away. She stared at the ground as she thought. Gummy walked up to her, and though his eyes were blank, there was a definite feeling of concern in his heart. He placed a hand on her hoof gently, trying to comfort her.

We all live to die. Why?

What’s the point of living if we are only going to die? What’s the point of making ponies smile if, by your passing, you’ll make them frown? Are all my efforts for nothing?

Her gaze shifted back up to the table. All these delicacies, these desserts, they are all temporary. A pony eats them, and they are gone. They are digested into the system, used only for nutrients—the little that some of them have.

What’s the point of making cupcakes, if they won’t last?

Once again, she asked the question: What’s the point of living if we are only going to die?

Why do we live? We all know we will die; why do we bother? Why don’t we just give up and let it happen? Why do we insist on making cupcakes, on making ponies smile? It’s all temporary; time is not on our side.

She had no answers. She continued to stare at the table, her eyes glazed over. More tears slipped down her cheeks; with each drop, her mane deflated more and more.

***

“Pinkie Pie?” Mrs. Cake called. She was on the steps leading up to Pinkie’s room. “Are you alright? You suddenly stopped making a lot of noises just then.”

She got no response. Mrs. Cake sighed. “What is that mare doing?” she wondered aloud.

Mr. Cake looked up from behind the register. “Dear, you had better go check up on her.”

Mrs. Cake returned a worried look. “Are you sure? What if you need me down here?”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll be fine.” Though she was still a bit unsure, she nodded anyway, and carefully walked up the stairs.

“Pinkie?” she called again, knocking on her door. She didn’t get an answer, but she thought she heard the sound of somepony weeping. Luckily, the door was unlocked, so she gently eased the handle and pushed the door open.

Pinkie sat in the middle of the floor, Gummy at her side. Her pink mane had deflated completely, leaving a flat trail of pink hair on the ground next to her. She seemed frozen in place, and Mrs. Cake could hear gentle weeping coming from her.

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Cake whispered. She rushed over. “Pinkie! What’s wrong?”

Pinkie’s gentle weeping suddenly stopped, but she refused to answer.

Mrs. Cake glanced around. She saw the table and the balloons laid out. That’s right; the CMC were coming over today to try their luck at baking. She glanced back at Pinkie. Could this have something to do with them?

“Pinkie?” she asked. “Did something go wrong? Did you mix up the cupcake and cake batter? Did you order the wrong amount of sprinkles?”

She asked baking-question after baking question, but only succeeded in getting little more than a shake of the head to each question.

Mrs. Cake stared at Pinkie for the longest time, before softly saying, “Pinkie, you need to tell me what’s wrong. It’s the only way I can help you.”

Pinkie didn’t initially answer, staring at the ground in stoic silence. Finally, though, she said, “It’s… nothing to do with the CMC, really.”

“Then what is it?”

She sighed. “It’s just… it’s just…” She finally raised her head, and Mrs. Cake saw the a dullness in her eyes. “What’s the point of it all?”

Mrs. Cake asked, “Huh?”

Pinkie gestured a hoof around the room. “What’s the point of baking cupcakes if all anypony does is eat them?”

Mrs. Cake fixed an inquisitive stare upon the young mare. “What do you mean? Cupcakes are meant to be eaten.”

“So they serve no other purpose than to be consumed?”

“Well… yes.”

“But their existence is only temporary. They are here for only a short amount of time, before vanishing down the throat of a pony. Yet in that time, they could have accomplished so much, but they chose not to.”

“Pinkie… cupcakes aren’t sentient.” Mrs. Cake grew even more worried. “What is this about?”

As if she didn’t hear the last part, Pinkie continued, “But… we’re sentient, right?”

“R-right.”

“And we can do so much, right?”

“Right.”

“But why do we bother?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this!” Her voice suddenly rose, and she stood up on her hind legs, waving her hooves around, shocking Mrs. Cake. “Why do we bother to live if we are all going to die? What’s the point of being alive if our only purpose of being alive is to be dead?”

“Pinkie—”

“It’s like with me and smiles! I can try to make everypony smile, but I know that I won’t be around long enough to make everypony smile!”

“Pinkie—”

“Smiles are temporary! Cupcakes are temporary! Happiness is temporary—”

Mrs. Cake had heard enough. Raising her voice so as to deafen the mare, she shouted, “PINKIE!”

Pinkie suddenly stopped her ranting, looking at Mrs. Cake in confusion. “What?”

Mrs. Cake took a moment to calm herself. She looked at Pinkie with apprehension. “What are you really asking?”

Pinkie sighed, before responding, “I’m asking, what’s the point of living?”

“The point of—” Mrs. Cake stopped herself. What kind of question was that? Pinkie never asked these kind of questions before. “Pinkie,” she said softly, “why are you asking this?”

“I-I don’t know!” Pinkie wailed. “It just sort of… occurred to me!” She fell back down on her bottom.

Mrs. Cake sighed, before trotting on over and sitting down next to Pinkie. She wrapped a hoof around her and held her close.

“You don’t… happen to know the answer, do you?” Pinkie asked.

Mrs. Cake said nothing, looking at the floor. She thought about the question for a long time. It’s a rather difficult question to answer. Even the wisest of us can’t seem to answer it. She wondered if the question had ever been posed to Princess Celestia or even Princess Luna.

The point of living is… the point of living is…

Was there even an answer? What did Mrs. Cake know; she wasn’t a philosopher, she was a baker. She made goodies that were sweet and lovely; she didn’t question her existence, nor did she wonder why she was even alive.

She simply was.

Was that the answer, then? That you were alive simply because?

Mrs. Cake had a feeling that such an answer would have been insubstantial to Pinkie. In retrospect, it was the same for her.

So what was the answer to the question that she posed?

Maybe there is none. Or maybe Pinkie’s been asking the wrong question.

“Pinkie,” Mrs. Cake started. The pink mare turned to her expectantly. “I think I have an answer.”

“Really?” Pinkie asked, surprised that the blue mare had come up with one so quickly.

“But… you may not like it.”

“Oh…” She looked away. “Well… I’m already asking something I don’t like, so I guess this is just par for the course.”

Mrs. Cake nodded. “Pinkie… the purpose of living… well…” She stared at the mare. “There is none.”

Pinkie looked away as she registered the words. “Oh… I knew it…”

“Please, let me explain.” She took a deep breath. “I guess, if we consider everything, that there is no purpose to living. Life—the big L—has no purpose for us. And yet what do we do?”

She waited for a moment, allowing her words to sink into Pinkie’s mind.

“We live. And living—well, living is the interesting part. We live to find a reason to live. We are living to find a purpose.” She pointed to Pinkie’s Cutie Mark. “And I guess that’s what a Cutie Mark is. A sense of purpose in this life. A sense of belonging.”

“But the CMC don’t have their Cutie Marks yet.”

“Perhaps that is because they are still searching for a purpose.”

“What if they never get one?”

“They will. I know it.” She looked away. “After all, that’s what life is. A quest for a reason. A journey for self-justification.”

“What about death?”

“Death? Death is not a true end. Death is simply another step on the journey.” She looked back at Pinkie. “We never truly die, you see. Even when we are gone from this plane of existence, even when we are simply a word, a name, we still live on. We exist as memories and as thoughts of others. We live on in them; and we die with them. We repeat.”

“But this repetition… isn’t it pointless?”

“How so?”

“It’s like our actions don’t matter. The end result will be the same. We live, we die, we do it all again, though not physically.”

“On the contrary, our actions define the end result. What we did while we were still alive—that is, our actions, our decisions, and our interactions with others—will reveal how we will be remembered. You, for example,” she said, bopping her on the nose, “will be remembered not just as the Element of Laughter, but also as the happy, pink mare who brought smiles to everypony in town.”

“But when I’m gone… somepony else could become the Element of Laughter. Somepony else could replace me as the pony who brings smiles.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Well, it’s like I’m being replaced.”

“Are you?” Mrs. Cake gave Pinkie a curious look. “Are you truly being replaced? Or are you simply being honored?”

Pinkie looked at her in shock. “Huh?”

“Think about it. If somepony else became the Element of Laughter and sought to make the town smile, then they are essentially living your legacy.” She smiled kindly. “They would be honoring you, and your wish to make everypony happy.”

She nodded slowly, though still a bit confused.

Mrs. Cake continued, “Life and Death are part of a larger cycle. That’s how I see it anyway. One cannot exist without the other; without Life, Death cannot exist, and without Death, Life cannot exist. To remove one would be to render the other void of meaning.

“And yet, in between Life and Death, there is Time. Time for us to do what we can, in the Time that we have left.”

“And what is it that we can do?”

“Everything we have to. Whether that be baking goodies,” she gestured table, “or making ponies smile,” she pointed at Pinkie. “Ultimately, the choice is up to you. It is up to you to decide what you make of Life. You will decide what your purpose for living is.

“Life and Death, Beginning and Ending: they are all part of a cycle. They all come around in a circle, starting over, never ending truly. And I think that’s a wondrous thing, to be a part of a beautiful cycle that everypony, regardless of purpose, can participate in.”

Mrs. Cake looked at Pinkie with concern. “I know I’m not a philosopher, and I’m by no means as smart as that Twilight Sparkle friend of yours. But does that at least somewhat answer your question?”

“Y-yeah,” Pinkie answered slowly. Mrs. Cake smiled, and hugged her close.

There was the sound of a door swinging open and a bell ringing. Three foals’ voices could be heard eagerly greeting Mr. Cake.

“Oh!” Pinkie exclaimed, getting to her hooves. “Sounds like they’re here!”

Mrs. Cake smiled. “Well, you had better go help them!” She trotted back down the stairs. “Call me if you need anything!”

“Will do!” Pinkie then added, “And Mrs. Cake?”

“Hmm?”

Pinkie suddenly hugged her tightly. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Cake patted her on the back. “You’re very welcome, Pinkie Pie, dear.”

Pinkie nodded happily, before enthusiastically going downstairs to meet the CMC. Mrs. Cake walked up to Mr. Cake with a soft smile on her face.

“So?” Mr. Cake asked. “What was the problem?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just a question about life.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure you gave a good enough answer?”

She glanced towards the back, where Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake were playing. She smiled. “I think I did.”