Archaeology

0 A.C.

There is a striking sense of community here, within this circular grove. Buffafoals play lightly, unaware of why the whole tribe is here, simply happy to have an opportunity to be in this wonderful place. Sunlight filters through the canopy, mixing gold with the green and brown of the peaceful alcove. Some of the adults look concerned, but a buffalo’s face is naturally stern. Inside they are probably bounding with the joy of their little ones as they look upon them.

I paced over to the Chief, hoping to question him about my ‘vision quest’, but before I am halfway across the clearing, Little Strongheart is blocking my path.

She said to me, “Rose. Why are you called that?”

I smile at the question, for nopony here as asked about my profession. “Back in Equestria, I was a flower vendor,” I pause to examine the look on her face. It says to me, ‘go on, that means nothing to me’. So I do. “I sold the best individual flowers and bouquets out of anywhere. Ponies would order my flowers from all across Equestria: Trottingham, Canterlot, Manehatten. I could be proud that every city was made a little more beautiful by my efforts. Even the famous fashionesta, Rarity, would call for my help in decorating at events. I can also be proud of that, for she would admit to few ponies sharing as sophisticated a taste in design as her. And of course, roses are the most beautiful flower of all, in my eyes.”

“But what makes one flower better than another? And what’s the point of just leaving them around areas, aren’t they better for being eaten?”

I smiled at the question, for it was the first time I had found someone without the discrepancy to keep it to themselves. Most ponies were pragmatic in this way, yet too polite to ask themselves. Instead of some long explanation, I smiled and said, “let me show you.”

So I led her out of the clearing a short ways, until we found a small patch of daisies. “Now, these aren’t the best flowers to use as an example, but they should do just fine. Did you know that how much moisture is in one affects the thickness of the stem, the fullness of the petal, the very color? Watch this.”

I pluck one daisy out of the ground and set it aside as my control group. It would be regarded as a fine daisy indeed- The petals are average size, subtly off white, and the stem is short. Then I firmly plant my four hooves in the ground as I stare at the remaining patch. Closing my eyes, I focus on the patch until I feel a certain tingling in the base of my skull. When I open my lids to reveal the world around me, Little Strongheart is staring at me in disbelief.

The daisy patch had swollen to nearly twice the size, most of the flowers had grown some extra petals, and they were as white as fresh snow. I smiled, for I had not done that in awhile. “That, Little Strongheart, is an example of how my flowers are superior, as well as one of the most obvious manifestations of Earth pony magic.” I bow jokingly in her direction.

She doesn’t look amused. “But you just used a spirit! I know, I am training in the ways. I just saw it. Most buffalo use audible words to ask them for a favor, but you can simply will it!”

The implications of what she says are slow to sink in. “Earth pony magic is... The same sort of power as the buffalo’s spirits? But...”

She says, “I have never heard of this connection between our peoples before, but it makes sense that the same true power binds all living creatures. And thank you for showing me your special talent, I can see how it can make others happier. That is the most important thing, no?” When I don’t respond, she says, “I think you should go visit the Chief, talk with him a little bit.”

Shaken, I nod and hurry off, back towards the grove.

The Chief sees me as I approach and I see him wave his companions away. He is wise, and can tell very much the mood of someone by their physical appearance. I sit next to him and say without preamble, “I have just found out that Earth pony magic is founded from the same source as your own power- the spirits.”

He smiles at me patiently, waiting for me to get what I need to off of my chest. To him I am a small filly and he the wise elder. And it’s not actually unlike that, for despite being a fully grown mare, I know that he is wise beyond my own measure, a mind that dwarfs my own, in it’s own way. I ask, “How can this be, if ponies are enacting the system with which we are struggling against?”

After a silence, he answers me, “For you, there are great things in both good and evil, but we and the spirits live beyond good and evil, for all that is great belongs to beauty. So there is no contradiction in earth ponies having a relationship with the souls which sing throughout the world- for it is beautiful to see any creature recognize these wonders.”

I take it in silence as a gaze once more around the clearing.

I can sense that my time in this peaceful reserve is drawing to a close. Among all of the buffalo here, the air is like the top layer of a thick soup that’s been left out too long. Everypony is pretending that this is a normal moment of tranquility and yet behind the pretense, we’re all fully conscious of the coming conflict. Rumors have it that Celestia herself will show up; perhaps this is going to be the turning point in what I hope is a grand paradigm shift. Or perhaps she will simply use her power to put down this ideological revolution.

The call has gone out for all of the warriors to assemble. Jumps-Higher has lead his stormtroopers to the edge of the clearing and they are prepared for the worst. Before they leave to confront the coming army and whoever is heading it, the chief approaches me, his wide face etched with worry. It shows no sign of weakness, only a rational fear for his people’s future.

He tells me, ‘We have sent Little Strongheart to set up a talk before anything else can happen. There is still an avenue of peace to resolve this conflict, perhaps this Celestia will be more reasonable than you portray her.”

I give him an empty look, for I am sure of my judgements. “Call her back,” I said, “let me go to her. She will be more receptive to one of her ‘subjects’”.

I do not know why I volunteer, for my reasoning is a lie. Celestia would accept the same message from anypony- she does not judge based on appearance. Perhaps I am eager to meet my fate. But I do retain some hope. Perhaps direct and reasonable conversation will be able to persuade a mind that, up to this point, has only seen people’s unwillingness to conform, rather than discussing it with them.

Jumps-Higher gazes at me in such a way that I can feel his glittering black eyes piercing through my untruths. Yet, perhaps he knows that this is something that I feel I must do. So he closes his eyes for a moment and mutters under his breath before murmuring to me, “A message has been sent. When Little Strongheart returns, you may go.”

Little Strongheart. She is wonderful, that buffafoal. In few persons have I seen such open kindness, a passion for understanding, a knack for healing- be it through philosophy or natural remedy. I hope she gets the chance to learn all about the medicine of her tribe. I am glad though, that she will not face Celestia, for she has never experienced the intoxicating aura that surrounds her- it can make one forget all reason and replace that with adoration.

It looks like the spirit messenger completed its task; I see that little one return, confusion expressed on her face. The chieftain nods at her appreciatively, then turns to me, his glance setting my hooves in motion.

My stomach is tangled with knots of thick wire, all coarse and rubbing together, creating unbearable friction. Sunlight slashes through the few open spaces between the canopy, compelling columns of light to transform dust motes from decaying matter into sparkling, tiny fairies of gold. As the trees thin before me, I can catch glimpses of ponies in the buffalo village, as they occupy the homes of those they wish to destroy. I take my last guaranteed breath in liberty, and step from the shelter of the great tree-trunks.

The royal guard shout as they see me, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” and “Halt!” So I do what they want. I stop moving and they surround me.

“Celestia needs to see you,” one says, and they shepard me out of the village, towards a grand tent in the plains outside.

I feel that this is the end. Chemicals rush through my body, slowing down time, making the smooth and practiced rigmarole of the guards seem sloppy and out of time. I feel myself approaching my own doom as I near that tent and yet I do nothing to resist. Continuing with my captors, I marvel at the slowness with which they move, at how easy it would be for me to startle them; to make a break for it. I stay with them.

The leader pokes his head into the tent for a moment, says a few muffled words, brings his head back out, looks at me, and motions with a hoof to go in.

The moment of truth. I push through the entrance flaps and before me is She, the one who keeps it all in motion. Her back is to me as she studies a map on one of her tables, and we are alone.

She turns at my entrance and casts her gaze into my eyes. I can feel her aura now, manipulating my thoughts. It probably isn’t even a conscious effort on her part, for she is truly magnificent, there is no denying it.

“My dear Roseluck,” she says. There is no trace of irony or contempt, sarcasm or anger. The only tone in her voice that I can sense is confusion, and this disarms me as she continues, “What’s wrong?”

With those two syllables, I am completely thrown off balance, unable to bring the proper order of thoughts to my mind, my arguments I had been synthesizing; I could not properly utter what I felt necessary and true. “What do you mean, what’s wrong? Have you no idea why I’ve gone? THIS is what’s wrong. YOU being HERE.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy, and perhaps I am. I can feel myself panting after heaving that off of my chest. I guess the anger shone brightly. But then I notice her expression. Celestia looks... hurt?

“Rose, my little pony, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your monopoly of force- perhaps you have no hidden malice, it is hard to believe that you would. But those who surround you, those who have great ambition, evil ambition, are driven into your service, for they know what kind of power you hold,” I sneer as I lay it out, “And there is the assumption that everypony born within the lines that you’ve dubbed, ‘Equestria’ ought to pay their own livelihood out in ‘taxes’, at the threat of caging. To everypony under your rule, it is impossible not to hear, ‘your money or your life’, for it is just assumed that your government is what ponies want. There is no real assent.”

She looks at me blankly, confusion still lingering in her eyes.

“Fine. I’ll put it this way, Princess,” I put bitter emphasis on the word, “what are YOU doing here?”

“This was an expedition, in search of you. Lily reported you missing and at once I set out to find one of my missing subjects. You didn’t think I would simply abandon one of my little ponies, do you?”

“And why, Princess Celestia, did you need to have an entire battalion of Royal Guard accompany you?”

This got her attention, and she pondered it. “As I was leaving, a courier did leave me a message from several of my Dukes... Requesting that I take scouts with me to survey the land. Equestria grows fuller each day and soon we must grow a little farther, perhaps. Ponity is great, after all."

I try to keep a note of insanity out of the twinge of my voice as I say, “and you don’t see it?” I force myself to remember that I am not simply speaking with someone trapped within our cultural mythologies, rather, I am speaking with Mother Culture herself.

“What?”

“Didn’t you see the village outside of your tent? There are ponies who already live here!”

“That is besides the point. Are you truly dissatisfied in Equestria, Rose? Is there some want that is not being fulfilled? Ask, and we shall try to fill it. Please, how can you be so muddled in the abstract? Didn’t you look around when you were at home? There’s not a pony starving anywhere, there are no substantial conflicts. Harmony reigns and everypony is happy. What is wrong with supporting such a thing, when you’ve lived there your whole life?”

My heart falls as I realize that I cannot convince her. That I must settle with my last plan to halt the juggernaut, or at the very least, to slow it down.

“Princess Celestia. Behind every great fortune is a great crime. It’s one way or the other. You must choose whether you believe in peaceful interaction between all hoofed-beings and leave here now, or you destroy the peaceful in order to continue your reign and your country. For we will fight the violent expansion.”

I turn and leave the tent, flicking my tail insolently as my heart pounds in my chest, ka-thunk, ka-thunk. Ka-thunk.

Written in much different writing than the rest of the document, the next section is elegant, cursive, and stretched.

The decorated alicorn stood frozen as she watched her former subject leave, realizing that no false dichotomy had been presented. It was true: either she must abandon her post and leave ponies to live as they chose, or she must maintain her grip on a peaceful Equestria by putting a stop to this mini rebellion now. With a pony fostering resentment in buffalo, there was no hope of getting them to leave in a peaceful manner. She had two mutually exclusive decisions- to get the buffalo off of their land by force or to withdraw her own claims for all of Ponity. And she knew that she could not place her ponies below anything, moral or not. The continued thriving of her ponies was what mattered most. She could not remove the firm control over Equestria from her own hooves, surely it would fall into chaos! Surely, anything must be done to protect her little ponies and their way of life. So she hardened her heart, and cast her magic upon those who would have lived. Those she recognized as vessels containing the abstract notion, *good.*

As I leave, I feel like I’ve joined the legion of the damned. I’ve been called to virtue and who signed me up? I face despair, hopelessness in this situation. It is like I have just had a conversation with the blind about colors that they cannot even imagine or claim to know.

Then I try to recall that it is the future that is shouting to me. The number of ponies that I have encountered who are or will become enlightened is tiny. But the true innocence of those who are yet to be is what motivates me and it is the decisions that we make now that are going to determine what kind of life they have.

The first ponies to realized that slavery was evil never lived to see a world without slaves. The first mares and stallions to demand equal rights for all, never saw a world of equality. So if we measure our achievements based on the perceived effect to those around us, the only thing we can get is despair. Because then, we are handing over our sense of advocacy and control and power into the hooves of other people’s defenses. This will always make us feel futile. Because we say, ‘I want to be good, I want to achieve good, I want to spread virtue!’ So essentially we must fall to our knees to those around us and say, in desperate and pleading terms, ‘Can I? Can I please? Please, I want to spread virtue, will you agree with me? Is that OK? Will you let me? Please?’

Screw that.

So I shall ask the future what it wants me to do. What shall it say? It shall say ‘Spread virtue. Spread virtue.’

The future doesn’t care about the buzzwords of today, the small issues used to trap people in a false paradigm. It doesn’t care about any of that. What the future is saying is, ‘Please, help my parents to stop hitting me. Please convince my parents not to bully me.’ That’s all that the future wants, is to not be hit when it’s helpless. To be treated with some degree of respect, rationality, concern, curiosity, intimacy.

All the souls in the world, spinning like rings of saturn, who cannot do anything, cannot change anything, are sending waves of thought down to us: to encourage, to inspire, to motivate.

So I must not squander my hope on the indifferent. We all have limited stores of hope... Let us not abuse the reserves.

Their eyes are full of that hope as I return, yet they can see from my stance that I bear no good news.

“What has she said?”

I don’t look at the questioner, I simply reply, “She has been presented with the facts. She must make her decision on her own. Only time will tell.” So I go and sit next to Little Strongheart, and though she wants to question me, she understands what I need from that companionable silence.

After a while, a white light starts filtering through the canopy above us, growing brighter and throwing the shadows of the forest into disarray. The dark spots seem to crawl, trying to find a place to rest away from the penetrating glow. It continues to grow and now everypony knows that something is terribly wrong. I get thrown on top of Little Strongheart by Jumps-Higher, and the last thing I see is his powerful body above me, bellowing at the approaching light.

That’s when everything goes black.

When I come to consciousness, it is clear that the conflict is no more . I see my newly inherited family scattered in pieces across the gove, Celestia’s pegasi airlifting corpses out of the clearing so that her ‘innocent’ earth pony brigades can start the clear cutting. I pull myself out from under my savior and look down, seeing the last vestiges of life trickling out of his body. He notices me with the last fragments of his consciousness and he beckons me over. In my ear he chooses to whisper the last words of his knowledge, before it is wiped from the face of this planet.

“Do not forget what we have talked about, that I saw take root in you. Remember, the spirits are the true power.”

His claims are startling to me, after all this. As he lays there ravaged and bleeding, beyond hope of recovery, he still insists on the truth of his faith- that the natural spirits in the world are fully capable of being harnessed and learned from by those with the appropriate skills. Still, even if they are real, is it not proof of their impotence that the unicorn magic has taken down the great chief? Why didn’t these spirits protect his tribe as the genocide advanced?

So I asked him, heartlessly, as he lay there in front of me, his lifesblood watering the grass beneath him, “If this is truly the real power, why is industrial civilization winning?” Though I feel hollow, in my words and in my tone, I attempt to invoke the despair that once swept through me. The raw feeling upon seeing the destruction and displacement being forced on all other forms of life, in order to make more room for more Ponies and their food. He doesn’t really answer me, not with anything that could be classified as reassurance.

“In the end, no matter how far these ponies expand and destroy, conquer and exploit,” he smiles through shattered and bloody teeth, “the power of the universe will always win. Someday this march of destruction will be halted, and the earth will roll all of their achievements back”. It is the last thing he says.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHEIIIIII!” It rings out across the sky, tumbling from the open plains, bouncing down off of swaying leaves, piercing my ears with the horrible emotion contained in that one, bloodcurdling shriek.

And I know that my plan has worked. Celestia is done as the ruler of Equestria, it is practically assured. I have deposed her by causing her to realize what she truly is- a being that she would destroy an entire nation of sentient creatures simply because they do not agree with her way of life. They did not even threaten her! And so, even though nopony could ever question her benevolence, her ultimate will to see peace and good in the world, I had to stop her. As a pinnacle of power, she was being manipulated subtly by the machine known as Equestria, and she had no idea. The only way to prove to her my point was to do as I had done.

I forced her hand, to choose between Equestria and peaceful relations with those who had done no harm. She chose Equestria, and could not stand what that meant as soon as she had committed. I showed her that, despite her claim to virtue, she could not place the perceived good of her ‘little ponies’ above her ability to expand her own nation. She could not stick with the true morality of respecting ALL of the peaceful.

Unfortunately, her institution remains. All that is left is for one of these kinnivers to claim the throne that she left. And they will be far, far worse than her. She has fled, leaving a vacuum of immense power. It shall foreseeably cause many more problems than it has in the past for there are few, if any, with both the force of character to rule and the quality of goodness that she had. Hopefully, eventually, everything will balance out.

And this shall be my last entry in this journal, for I have finally come to my conclusion. Until my last breath, I shall try to stop this leviathan in it's tracks. Only time will tell if I succeed; there is no need to record further for posterity, history will dictate what happens..

Monday, 5th of Sol, *1012 A.C.***

Chella looked around at her classroom, thought of her government, thought of all the ponies around her, thought of her professor. She pondered the state of the world - there was no land unsettled by ponies and they were already looking out towards other worlds. She thought of the variety of species - ponies were the only hoofed beings left. She thought of wild places, did they remain? All that appeared before her mind were the depths of oceans, still unreachable, and the outer limits of space; so knew just exactly who had won and who had lost, all those years ago.

And Discord shrugged.

Fin