Archaeology

by cxzyzx

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Random
Length: 17501

Droppin some realism in the escapism.

It's 1012 A.C. and students at the University of New Canterlot are going over a newly discovered cache of documents dating back around 0 A.C… The most confused and blurry portion of Equestrian history- when Celestia disappeared

Contains politics and philosophy, for those interested. Rose Luckless is the prequel.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-10 18:44:33 UTC

Prologue

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

Magically amplifying his voice, the New Canterlonian professor began to dictate to his class,

“Greetings, students. Today is an exciting day, for we have some raw material to go over, a genuine primary source that was just recently discovered and translated from Old-Equine. Currently, no journals or academic papers have published anything on these documents so any insights we have in this classroom will be one hundred percent original. Very exciting stuff, really. I myself haven’t gone over them in detail yet as I thought it would be a good experience if I heard this new information at the same time as all of you. Before we get started, I’d like to speak a few words.”

A murmur spread throughout the lecture hall as the university students in the historical studies department realized that they were witnessing a new addition to the annals of time, something that happened rarely, if ever in a pony’s lifetime.

Ahem...

“Ponies in space.

To say such a thing is no longer the silliest of notions- with recent advancements in magic and technology, ponies have been able to accomplish things only dreamed of as fantasy, perhaps never even dreamed of at all before the current century. Once upon a time it was only the strongest of unicorns who could bear themselves for a few moments against the pull of gravity, to observe what was happening beyond our atmosphere. Even then, the most powerful of magic could only perform as a shield for a few moments against the harsh environment of space before that pony had to touch down against the surface of our planet. Remember, we’re talking about ponies who had advanced to the 5th and 6th order of magical prowess. Think about that! These days, any ordinary earth pony can board a craft and, with the proper training, use instruments capable of measuring fluctuations in energy and radiation that are unobservable to the naked eye. Progress is astonishing and simply makes the way of life in the past more fascinating.”

After the cataclysm, much information was lost about the era of Celestia. It is true, some writings survived to help us get to where we are, though some is still just being discovered! Amazingly enough, we’re dating these documents to the very year of Celestia’s disappearance, what we call 0 A.C.”

Understanding events from an historical context is important. Until recent discoveries, only legends ever told us about what was happening during the last millennia, when somepony named Celestia was liege over all of Ponity. Most of what we truly know about her and her rule was found a few years ago in the fragmented documents of her protegee, Twilight Sparkle, though the the decay of time prevented her full works from being recovered. As helpful as those papers were towards our understanding the past, her focus was mainly on the expansion of magical theory and the combination of magic and technology. Those contributions are why we have many of the things that we benefit from today, but her forte was not in the recording of events and much of what we assume about the past is taken from the context of her work, rather than her direct words, thus there is much that we do not know.”

Recently, certain manuscripts were found in a large tomb, along with the full treasures of a nation of Buffalo (creatures that common wisdom told us were illiterate and savage, when they still existed!) sealed in around them. Obviously, if these manuscripts are before us now, conventional wisdom is probably mistaken and this look back into the history of Equestria could shed details on the Age of Celestia that we never knew about.”

So! Let’s take a gander, shall we?”

Melancholy

Look, a pony is born in freedom,

but soon becomes a slave,

in cages of convention,

from the cradle to the grave.

0 A.C.

My name is Roseluck.

Most people don’t think of me as a thoughtful pony and that’s because I don’t advertise it. When you’re introverted you simply don’t go around trying to solve philosophical mysteries with the majority of other ponies. Most of the time they don’t care, they just want to finish up their daily grind. I understand that. But it’s still frustrating when you feel like you have a legitimate query. So I took up the habit of writing to myself, discussing important things with the only person I could really connect with. Me.

My discontent began when I realized that everypony always believed in the same ideals, uttered the same responses to the same questions... And now, without anypony to have open discourse with, I’ve stumbled upon the issue that bothers me the most: our revered, benevolent, glorious, Princess Celestia.

When our liege asks something of you, there’s always that unspoken or else.

We are speaking about the eternal goddess of the sun, after all. What she is capable of doing is something that most ponies don’t dare to think about, to recognize as a fundamental truth about the nature of her power.

She has a monopoly on force and she can destroy anything in the world.

We are born into servitude, destined to participate in a societal order that has nothing to do with our chosen entry into it. I denounce the idea that a pony can make commitments for their unborn children or for future generations. I denounce the idea that Celestia, in all her power, can rightly take from those ponies who signed no social contract, taxes on anything that they do. She cannot justly levy from them their own livelihood and productiveness, to pay for any kind of road or infrastructure, school or institution of any sort. She cannot use her monopoly of force to say to somepony who wants to truly be free, in the most essential sense of the word, that they are obligated to pay out their own productiveness to anyone else. Voluntary contribution is the only moral foundational structure for any community.

The counter argument usually goes: but look at her character! Clearly, despite all of your reservations, she’s being a force for good in the world!

And I say to these ponies: look beyond your borders. Take a glance at what our ‘wonderful’ society is doing around the world! Stop listening to the Celestial-funded media that stretches its loathsome tentacles into the fabric of our lives!

It disheartens me, truly, when information is not questioned, when the same ponies with a monopoly of force have a monopoly on the distribution of information (The Royal Newspapers)

Are my peers really so blind as to accept everything fed to them without thinking about issues critically?

When Celestia claims that we need to send a surge of royal guard into the deserts of Camelia to spread Equestrian ideals, I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with the camels having their own way of life? They’re just as whole of a hoof-bearing people. As long as they aren’t hurting us, why should we hurt them?

It is fake! Fake, I say, to believe that greater good can come from the use of force against the peaceful. You must to look at who is benefitting. Are there resources there for us to take? Hey, look at that! Camelia happens to be the most coal-rich territory in the known world! Oh, well now look at this other factoid: The fastest growing industry in Equestria are these railroads, powered by that new invention, whatsit, the coal-engine.

Mention this to a common pony, though, and a blank stare appears in their face as they let relevant information go in one ear and out the other. Just as they’ve been trained, since the age of five, when they started attending mandatory public schools. And to call them schools! As if anything was truly learned after basic numbers and letters. The rest of it is useless information, things that don’t help anypony decide what they want to do to contribute to society. Knowledge and thought, creative output and constant improvement are replaced with mindless busywork. We may as well call them detention centers!

How is it, in any way, possible to breed critical thought in somepony when their entire ‘education’ is reinforced towards the teaching that violent force applied, and nothing less, is conducive towards positive social change?! Specifically, from a centralized place we know as ‘Celestial-government’. In nearly every lesson in public schools, this teaching pervades. It boggles the mind.

It does not help matters that the best and brightest pony to have graced this Equestrian soil in generations is Her most loyal and beloved of subjects (yet more inequality to digest! I cannot help but surely believe that I will grow sick with it soon!).

Twilight Sparkle, as she is named, is a prodigy. The latent magical ability that she possesses and constantly hones might even become the rival of the Princess’ one day. Of course, once this knowledge became known, the Royal Princess annexed her right to self-determination. She immediately took under her wing that true-hearted unicorn, indoctrinating and guiding her away from any free-thought at all. Recently, in fact, she arranged a marriage between her niece, Cadance and Twilight Sparkle's brother, Shining Armor, in order to tie her closer.

Oh to be in the presence of Celestia herself! It is magnificently awesome, yet intrinsically terrifying.

When I say awesome I do not mean it as it is used colloquially- to describe boots or a scarf or some structure; these things are not and cannot be awesome as the word genuinely means. It is meant to convey witlessness, to have observed something that leaves you so shell-shocked that you can’t do anything but stare on like a moron as saliva trickles dumbly out of the corner of your mouth.

But I digress. To be in the presence of Her, to recognize the power that She has: it is confounding. The aura that radiates through an entire room when she steps in, who cannot bow to that?

And that is my problem with it all. Nopony deserves that. Nopony should ever possess such raw force.

Take a look at the ‘elite’ of our culture today. They are the proponents of the current system, the ones who thrive off of it and delight in its continuity. It seems that, consistently, a pony from outside of Canterlot, when visiting, will be harassed by the so-called nobles in one form or another. Even honest Applejack, a pony well-known to be talented and dependable, when selling the tastiest apple treats in the known world, was spat upon by the arrogance of these ponies! And, unfortunately, it seems that she did not notice the root cause: that these statist, elitist, loyalist ponies are sworn to nothing but their power and the one who can keep it for them: Celestia.

Speaking of the hard-working Applejack, I am reminded of the glue that binds our realm together.

Where once they were wielded by Celestia, they are no longer. I believe it says something about the status of our ruler, that she cannot use the Elements of Harmony, for she is not representative of what she might once have been. I claim that her current benevolence is a ruse! The ponies embodying Honesty, Loyalty, Laughter, Kindness, Generosity, and Friendship, they hold the supreme magic that can shape the reality of the universe. And they are loyal to a tyrant.

So what is harmony without freedom? Worthless, crumbling to dust between two hooves, rotting away at the essence of organic creation.

Nothing, I say. It is worth nothing.

Intermission

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

Had a feather touched the ground, it would have shattered the overbearing silence that permeated the room. In an attempt to thwart the awkward situation, but only adding to it, the mustached professor unnecessarily uttered, “Quiet down class, quiet down.”

Heedless, he continued, “I understand that, frankly, this is... disturbing. But I feel that we had better go over it in some detail in order to verify the accuracy. Curiously enough, the general structure of society seems identical to how we had postulated it- Celestia as the royal head of state, her nobles forming her administration, her Royal guard protecting the nation, and the citizenry as peaceable as could be imagined. Nothing like the world of today! Now here, this Rose seems to have a different opinion on the state of affairs than did Twilight Sparkle, but, let us lay our modern understanding of the past before us, in order for a proper comparison to be had.

Initially at this time period, around 0 A.C., we postulated that everything that could possibly be going well for ponies, was. There was relative peace throughout the land as well as the fact that art and technology were flourishing at a rapid pace. Twilight Sparkle had just recently emerged onto the scene, helping start the initial move towards a greater use of mechanical technology. What she realized was that magical energy could be freed up for uses other than powering basic things, such as lights and vehicles, by using natural energy sources (she claims to have come to this realization at seeing the fantastically extravagant Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, whatever that might be). Then suddenly, in the midst of this golden era, this renaissance so-to-speak, the liege of Equestria, Princess Celestia, the sun goddess disappeared.”

As the professor lapsed into a retelling common history, the scratching of pegasi quills slowed to a halt.

“It seems that in the power vacuum that was left behind, Twilight Sparkle attempted to maintain the great Equestrian peace. Yet, without a great goddess-figure to rally around, and her only partially trained, all sorts of ponies challenged her through methods that hadn’t even been conceived of for ages! They published lies and slander, sent false messengers of peace with hard iron tucked into their sleeves, eventually instigated riots in order to loosen the popular support for Princess Celestia’s protegee. It became too much, and she fled from Canterlot to pursue her own ideas in seclusion.

Shortly after Twilight Sparkle abandoned that certainly precarious post, it appears that Equestria was attacked from the north, though by who is uncertain. There seems to have been a coalition of Griffons and Centaurs, though this is certainly unconfirmed. Whoever it was, though, did sufficient damage to the infrastructure and stability of pony lives and Equestria suffered a dark age the likes of which we could not imagine. Disease was rampant, and the average lifespan of ponies drastically reduced. As ponies started caring more about survival and less about culture, all significant technological advances seem to have been dropped, the continued expansion of literary works was halted to an immediate stop, and many many important books were destroyed during the fall of Canterlot. After hundreds of years it seems that the region eventually stabilized, ponies had a chance to regain their senses and started to recreate civilization.”

“Only recently, as we’ve rediscovered our passion for knowledge, including knowledge of the past, did we start searching for answers to the mysteries of our ancient legends. It was 100 years ago, I believe, when the Twilight Sparkle cache was discovered, sparking an entire renaissance with the ideas and theories postulated in her works. No other reliable sources have been discovered since then, until these documents from this Roseluck pony. So far it seems that they are filled more with raw emotion and less with verifiable data, though someone will surely go through and compare this with what we’ve inferred from Twilight’s documents.

In any case, let us continue.”

Morose

0 A.C.

I look around the market square, seeing my fellow ponies shop and socialize, twittering on about the weather or Pinkie Pie’s latest party, or the coming of Cider Season.

Then, there are those ornery runts, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, as they call themselves. See how they play? Young Scootaloo pulls herself around on that wheeled death trap as her friends chase her down, trying to snag something she has clutched between her teeth.

I wonder: what would these carefree fillies act like if fire was raining out of the sky, if they had seen their parents subjected to sensory deprivation, fluctuations of extreme heat and cold, starvation, violence and poverty? Would they be different if they weren’t raised in some closed-off utopia, where everypony sees no further than their own city limits?

Would they still play? Would they still stay idle in their lives, searching constantly for a flank-marking, or would they direct all of that youthful energy against those they recognize as destroyers?

Whomever is reading this, surely they will denounce me if they do not understand what I speak of; forget them. They are too far gone to be of concern. I, however, and others, I hope, can forget the ingrained teachings, our indoctrinations; to attempt a hard look at reality with a fresher, stronger eye. I believe you will come to understand what I am saying.

Let me start with this: Our conception of the reality that surrounds us is interpreted directly through the teachings that we grew up with. Unless one takes a step back, ignores their cultural instinct, the lenses through which one views the world will be permanently fogged by bias.

That doesn’t sound too extreme, now, does it? One might wonder why this is imperative at all in reference to the world as it is.

It’s because most of us aren’t seeing the world as it is, we are seeing it through the mistuned and blurry eye of, what somepony once dubbed, Mother Culture.

And this is what I mean: When I tell you that I’ve been to our borders, seen the way with which we absorb the locals there, seen that they have retained their self-determination for millennia (as is apparent through their lineage, equally ancient as ours), and then see how we systematically destroy their culture, killing parents who fight for their customs, kidnapping children too young to have made their decisions about what really is, sending them to be adopted by Canterlonian families, I grow sick to the depths of my soul.

Even before these things started happening, the constant growth, the endless expansion of Equestria was never questioned.

It is automatically assumed that peace and love and unity are the concept, verily, that prosperity is the force driving the growth of our so called ‘nation’. Surely it must be! Look at the riches with which we live! We can afford to fell forests for our paper, to strip the ground of minerals through rigorous planting methods, to throw away a half eaten plate of food!

In the eyes of ponies touting common ideals, these foreign ponies are as fully inferior to themselves as a cricket or a badger. Of course, there are some diverting philosophies that are kept, though they are fringe, located far away from the mainstream groupthink. The gentle Fluttershy is one such pony, conscious of the fact that most of these creatures have cultures and languages and customs of their own. Her revelation, however, is not shared by many...

Assimilation is the name of the new game we play, even if we now call it the ‘education’ of the ignorant and savage.

What we are told is that outside of Equestria, ponies are not fully self-aware. When I speak of ponies, of course, I am referring to the bearers of hooves, be they exactly like us or not. We are told that they are lowly, uncivilized, that they don’t know that they are independent and free; they don’t know that, like us, they are beings of the highest order, for whom the entire environment is there to provide for.

Yet if one merely travels outside our borders, ignores what they have been told, and uses only the observation of their senses, it seems clear that this is not the case.

Those indigenous ponies, their lands flow with goods that we couldn’t dream of here! Where we have relatively few forested acres here (for we have cut down all of the trees for lumber and stripped the ground open beneath them for stone and gems and metals), they are thriving off of the fruits naturally born out by those healthy plants. There is no such thing as a place without woods! Food dangles in front of one’s eyes everywhere! I could swear, it is true harmony, genuine balance. Here, it is a rare sight here to see a wild bird singing to themselves about the loveliness of the day yet, once outside Equestria, the difference is starkly apparent! The skies will darken as if night has fallen, yet one will soon realize it is simply the enormity of the flocks that roam freely through the deep blue!

Where we have stripped our land of all its health, taking from it everything that we claim as ours, they have nourished theirs, giving themselves to the land, caring for it as a shepherd for his flock. And that is why we are stronger than them in this moment. That is why, they either conform, or flee, or die.

Our desires for big stone buildings or metal armor, the exclusion of the natural world in our cities, these are generated by Mother Culture, this much seems obvious to me.

We can’t look at these Water Buffalo, Elephants, and Giraffes, whose land we are stealing all the time, all of whom have been living in their own minimalistic context very happily and say that their desires are wrong. We cannot call them savage.

Perhaps we should call them enlightened.

Strictly speaking, it seems that non-Equestrians do not believe in a creator as we do, revering Him above all, with Celestia just below. They know of The Creator differently, as an intrinsic dimension of all their relations, part of every interaction that binds a people together.

Let me be clearer: We worship in rows, bowing our heads as somepony drones from a decaying text. We praise our creator by fearing His power. We praise our creator by destroying those who don’t worship him as we do.

Let us look at them, those natives that we are constantly displacing. They worship by running, feeling the burning of their muscles or by recognizing the blissful sensation of clear water trickling down their parched throats, by holding each-other’s hooves, by kissing each-other. They revel in the experience to be had in this magnificent creation.

And we tell them that this is wrong. We force them out of their territory, sending them fleeing, for they do not know that we will never stop growing, that is the way of our machine. If they did know this brutal fact, I am sure they would fight.

It seems to me that if this leviathan that is Equestria does not stop, one day we will run out of room. We will populate the surface of this planet like parasites, sucking away the living wealth of the world from its bones, a disgusting pus-filled tumor on the surface of this mighty ground.

And where will we go once there is no more room on the planet, no more trees to cut down, no more elements to dig up to fuel our machines, no more wildlife to claim as ours for the plundering?

We will implode. And ponies everywhere will shudder, horrified to the depths of their being, to think about what their ancestors once ignored.

All I know for certain is that these are my last few moments among what I formerly thought of as a great state. I cannot stay here, knowing what I do, passively supporting a lifestyle based on the destruction and exploitation of the world and its inhabitants, other than those classified as “US”.

Before our rivers run dry and our earth turns arid, before the leaves tumble, brown and dead, from of the dying branches of withering trees, before the great supply chain is interrupted and brings devastation to us all, I must surely try to resist in some way.

I, Roseluck, must make my way into the unknown.

Fair ponies, wish me luck.

Intermission II

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

“What does she mean when she says, ‘this is the way of our machine?’ I’m sure ponies back then didn’t want to hurt others just as much as we don’t want to hurt others now. So what does Rose mean when she says we are violently expanding?”

The professor mulled this over, thinking hard at the emotional words that he and his class had just read. With an exhalation that blew his wispy mustache around, the classroom authority said, “It is my intuition that we shall find out more about this in the next few chapters of the journals, but what she might be referring to is our method of food production. She says, ‘we have stripped our land of all its health, taking from it everything that we claim as ours.’

So, classically speaking, it is a fairly well documented fact that ponies seemed to exhibit a different style of food production than those other races- though we see that some of them have adopted our way of life over the centuries. It was ponies who first became sedentary, planting enough crops to lend them food without needing to be nomadic. Thus it was ponies who first felled great amounts of forest, claimed huge swaths of land. Rose apparently thought that we would implode due to loss of resources, yet we are already have a ship traveling to a nearby habitable planet! I cannot think of anything beyond that, though, so maybe we should stop interrupting and find out, hmmm?”

A young earth pony waved her hoof furiously in the air, “But doesn’t this directly challenge what we were taught about the doctrine of Manifest Destiny? Haven’t we always held that this was the mentality behind the expansion of Equestria? It seems like Rose is saying that the fundamental design of our way of life was the cause for expansion, rather than some conscious mentality of ‘It’s fate that we should expand because of how much cooler we are.’”

This had indeed occurred to the professor, who was subconsciously trying to figure a way around his own mental biases, in order to justify that which he had been mired in as ‘truth’ for his whole life. Finally, he realized what he had to say in order to maintain the status quo.

“According to our understanding of the past, there was an idea that the as-of-yet unsettled parts of the world ought to be migrated to and settled by ponies, in other words claimed for Equestria. This is visible through such outposts as Appleoosa, whose orchards we still get apples from today. What was once the frontier of Equestria, practically uncharted territory is now one of our centers of production. Is that not a good enough demonstration of manifest destiny?”

The young student was not satisfied. Petulantly, she said, “You still haven’t made any mention of Rose’s theory about our food production, and what role it played in that. I was never saying that ponies don’t have a ‘we are best’ mentality. We can still see it today! I just feel like you’re disregarding important information."

The wizened professor gave a condescending huff, “Anything she may have said about that is probably unscientific in its very nature- this is an ancient person after all. I believe it fair to say that we didn’t subconsciously take new territory then and we still don’t, no matter how we produce food. I think you ought to stick with peer-reviewed studies, dear Chella, and not believe everything you read.”

Properly chastised, the class asked no more questions.

Morality

Nopony is completely free,﻿

else we’d have naught to strive for.

0 A.C.

I’ve done it... I’ve left Ponyville.

As I sit here writing, I am a few hours out of the city and heading west. Thankfully, I did not need to explain myself to anypony, yet it is sad that I could not give a good farewell to those honest ponies. I do not hold anything against my peers, I simply lament the lack of understanding between us. It is unquestionable that their intent is good, their hearts in the right place; the fact of the matter is, simply, that I cannot successfully communicate to them the things that are important to me and so I must find others who might understand.

Yet, I fear that I preach too much. My words (and that is all they are) do not reflect the truth of my being. I have merely started to question that which is around me, professed to be 'reality', the true working of things. I am seeking to find one (or many, if they exist!) who actually resemble these ideas in the flesh! If my assumptions about our society are correct, surely those that we think of as demons and savages must really have more to them than that.

But then, as I travel this road, I needs must ponder... what is rightness? Where do does such a thing come from? This question must be answered to some satisfaction if I am to truly take a stance on any issue. If preach a word that I believe yet do not supply even myself with the basis for that belief, surely it is a worthless one to hold.

The thing about ‘Right’ and ‘Wrong’ is that they literally do not exist. These aren’t empirically measurable things. They are concepts, that much is certain, I think.

Recently as I left town, I was passing by the Barn of Worship. A funeral service was leaving and I overheard somepony say, “You just turn to dust but the real you is gone. Up there there’s no fighting or pain or sorrow, it’s a better place”.

So I must wonder, how can such a thing be? If the afterlife is a place without such feelings as being possible, how can that be anything but a prison of indifference? Can one possibly reach the peak of self-fulfillment, understand the depths of joy, without an acute awareness of despair?

It is amidst the haze of uncertainty that visions seem to be reality- the realization that there are so many people in so many places who have conflicting worldviews and philosophies, that not all of them can be objectively applied, elevates the certainty that subjective reality must be the fact of the matter. But is this not a blanket, objective, statement?

I shall examine the theories that seem to be held by most as to where morality stems from. Often professed is the notion that a being of a higher order, the creator, established morality as an underpinning for this universe when it was created- this is the appeal that Celestia makes to us all, which she says the Elements of Harmony represent. Another notion is that the culture that one belongs to is what constructs morality for themselves exclusively, which stems from an observation of history: in the past, before ponity was joined together in harmony, different clans held different ways of living up as the highest ideal. Take for example many of the warlike Pegasi tribes- they were fiercely territorial and proclaimed that the highest level of honor could only be achieved by eating the heart of one’s vanquished opponent. It was exclusively those who had consumed the strength of many enemies that were to be revered as heroes. According to those traditions of old, peaceful conflict resolution was viewed as weakness.

Obviously, this is starkly contrasting with what we know today, namely that to eat the flesh of another is not only unnecessary but unhealthy as well. This moral that we hold could be seen to originate from those early earth-pony tribes, many of whom were overcome by conquerors before the unification of Equestria. But what makes what we hold today the real ‘Truth’ about rightness?

It is apparent that when individuals agree on standards of morality- right and wrong- they are able to impose some sort of cooperation within a given ‘society’ in order to function as a more efficient collective. As collectives expand and encounter others, it is necessary to revise one’s standards of morality that might conflict with opposing viewpoints. This is simply how our current culture arose...

I know for certain that there are those who are ignorant to the worst goings-on in the world and that they maintain perfectly fine levels of contentment, but I do not think that this is truly the way that someone who has some higher level of understanding would feel.

Imagine being some spirit with great knowledge of the happenings in this world: Of course I have no idea what existence might be like without being attached to this earthly body. To have none of the earthly things I sense: taste, touch, smell, sight, noise. Perhaps I wouldn’t care at all for such a thing as physical pain- torture ought to mean nothing to me. But maybe suffering would still be observable, perhaps vicariously I could feel the pain of living ponies if I was still aware of their existence on this level that we all experience.

But to wonder about this issue of ‘existence without my current sensory input’ for too long seems unreasonable, I must resign myself to worrying about those things that are visibly verifiable, not the maybes of an after-death. It was a wise pony who once said, “Death ought not concern us, for when death is, we are not and when we are, death is not.”

To get back to morality; there seem to be three major camps. There are those who claim objective moral truths that validly apply to all ponies, those who claim that each pony makes ‘truth’ for themselves, and those ponies who claim that morality is simply a social construct, bearing no resemblance to truth of any kind.

With regard to the subjectivists, who hold that morals are determined by each individual for themselves- it’s a nice thought but one I feel is untrue. In examining such a statement, I notice that it holds up the idea that two ponies with entirely different worldviews can look at the same occurrence and truthfully name it good and bad, at the same time, with both statements as morally valid. Let me demonstrate what I mean.

Suppose we have pony A who holds subjectivism to be true and also believes in persuasion and peaceful cooperation between ponies, abhorring violence against others without provocation. Now, suppose that, isolated from pony A, is the previously unknown pony B. Suppose that pony B believes in the rapid external expansion of their own worldview by any means necessary, and they interpret this by waging war on those who do not believe as they do. So we have pony B raging out towards pony A, bent on carrying hellfire and brimstone to that infidel.

What can pony A do to resist? According to her, pony B is ‘right’ in their aggressive expansion because individuals determine right and wrong for themselves. If pony A resists being overran, that pony is breaking their own code of subjectivism and if they don’t resist they aren’t fulfilling their own moral codes of valuing their own life. If they say, “Well, when it comes to slaughter of innocents or self defence, I am right to oppose pony B”, they are making an appeal to an objective standard of morality based on harm towards others, and rejecting their own philosophy of ‘individuals determine what is right/wrong for themselves”. So it seems that morals, if they do exist, cannot be so permeable as to be interpreted by any individual. They must be objective- beyond the standards of any one pony.

Unfortunately, this does not answer the question, are there true morals? The encampments have been culled- we now have only the idea that some form of objective morality exists OR that there is no such thing as right and wrong, only cultural codes which are of equivalent intrinsic value (namely: NONE).

What saddens me is that I am leaning towards the latter statement. If I cannot measure good and bad, if I cannot observe their weight in the world, how can I adhere to any notion that they exist? I can see things that I feel are good and bad, yet this is just my own psychology at work; I abhor what I was taught to abhor; If see an ‘injustice’ towards somepony, I fear that situation because I could be put in it. Empathy does not stem from morality, only self preservation.

So I come down finally to the notion that morality does not exist. There is no objective ‘Right’. At first this seems terrifying as I think to myself: Morality is illusory, a smokescreen. Then the notion comes to me, perhaps moral codes must be like any other construct?

Take money as an example. Bits have no real value, the way food does or water. It’s simply an agreement- if we all value this one thing in the same way then we can use it in our relations to have fair exchanges. Morality could be much the same- if everypony holds similar values then we can interact peacefully and cooperate on a much more efficient level.

And I feel relieved at this thought, absurd as it may be. Even if killing somepony is not inherently wrong, it still doesn’t make sense to do so- I can live in a perfectly fine way without it and would probably benefit from having a friendly neighbor around. This line of reasoning allows for sensible rules without making some grand statement about the order of the universe. Perhaps it even creates room for a more dynamic morality, one based on common sense stuff rather than strange, immutable laws that almost everypony needs must break at one time or another.

So it seems obvious to me that there is not a single life-form that does not have a will to flourish- to grow in the world of it’s own accord and to not be set to the whims of others. Essentially, there’s not a creature alive that does not adhere to the notion that they as an individual should have the ability to make voluntary choices about the path that they trod in this life.

And that’s why I believe what I do- for with Celestial government comes involuntary cooperation, something that all individuals abhor when it is presented to them openly. So I’d like to present it openly: the coercive nature of our rulers.

The scope of our nation is larger than one pony’s ability to govern, goddess though she may be, so let me describe the way that our system of governance currently works on the levels below the Celestial-dictates, which necessarily come into law. This is how it is told to our children, as they learn about the organization of society and how rules and institutions are set in place. I shall paraphrase obviously, for I am no schoolteacher.

“Each pony has in common innate desires to be self-governing, to not be subject to the whims of others- to have rule over how their own lives are run. We shall call this idea of self-purpose Autonomy. As a collective view of ponity is necessary for the larger prosperity of our kind, in order for each pony to have a say in the outcome of our collective, we shall establish a system of voting- where each pony’s opinion counts equally as ‘1’. From each body of population from the different districts of Equestria, a ‘representative’ shall come after the process of voting has taken place. They, the Lower Courts, shall reside in Canterlot, and work with each other and vote on plans in order represent their constituents’ best interests, thus all shall have an equal say in the running of society.”

So it is! We have a class of ponies that resides in Canterlot- all of them making a minimum of five to ten times what a successful family such as the Cakes make- all of their pay coming from tax money. The original outlines for this mode of governance are laid out in a document that we blandly name, ‘The Social Contract’.

So, let us look at the wording in this document, used by the mainstream thinkers to justify a system of governance wherein those who are born in Equestria are owned by the state, forced to pay tithes out of their own productiveness at the threat of being caged (and if they resist the theft too efficiently, they shall be murdered).

It is obvious that they who wrote the ‘Social Contract’ had no natural power or right to make it obligatory upon their children. It is not only plainly impossible, in the nature of things, that they could bind their posterity, but they did not even attempt to bind them.

Yet, let us look at the rhetoric with which today the powers-that-be justify themselves. Ponies purport that this ‘contract’, written hundreds of years ago when Equestria was just starting, is validly applicable to all of us today; that it holds weight and authority in all matters in which ponies interact.

Which is absurd.

This ‘Social Contract’ has inherently zero authority to those of us who did not have any part in its construction, those of us who did not voluntarily accede to the terms laid out within it, those of us who are, namely, sovereign individuals capable of making autonomous decisions.

They say that unless you vote within the system, you don’t deserve a voice. They say that voting in the system is the ONLY way to have a voice. They say ‘unless you vote, you don’t have a right to complain’.

Which is insane.

By the very nature of things, the act of voting could bind nopony but the actual voters. It cannot be said that, by voting, a pony pledges themselves to support the ‘Social Contract’, unless the act of voting is perfectly voluntary on their part. Yet, it seems obvious that the act of voting cannot be termed ‘voluntary’ for even many of those who do vote. Instead, it is a measure imposed upon them by others, rather than one of their own choice.

It must be considered that, without their consent, without being asked, everypony finds themselves claimed by a government that they cannot resist; a government that forces them to pay money, render service. A government that from it’s very premise removes the most basic part of his or her autonomy, under threat of imprisonment or death.

So a rational pony sees this, and also sees that other ponies practice this ‘tyranny by ballot’. Our rational pony then intuits that, if he does the same thing, he might be able to relieve himself from the tyranny of others; if he votes he may subject his own tyranny in the place of another’s. Our rational pony sees that, without his consent, he has been placed in a situation that, if he uses his vote, he may become a master; if he does not use it, surely he will be a slave.

And so in self-defense, he votes.

Not too long ago, I was talking with my friend, Lily, about the way that representatives are chosen from one of two bought-and-paid-for political parties. In my frustration, I made the claim that such a locked political structure was anything but beneficial towards the majority of ponies, and that their wants and needs were not being met. She knew this, but didn’t follow my conclusions to the source of the problem: statism. This is when, having ran out of excuses for the aristocracy, she said, “often, one must choose the lesser of two evils”.

At that moment, I nearly lost it. Having smashed her ingrained idea of a social structure to pieces, yet retaining respect for the virtues that she held as moral, she resorted to her last hope of retaining a semblance of her previous beliefs (that progressive change ought to happen via government force). Because of my fury, I had no retort ready in tongue. She walked away, and I lost that round.

I shall say now, this ‘lesser of two evils’ business is nothing but harmful to the good cause, for it is only the belief in that idea, and nothing else, that perpetuates it. It is a delusion that only works to the extent that it is believed. Thus, it ought to be greeted with contempt and derision, at the very least.

My hoof grows weary of writing, and the light is fading from the sky. I remain on this winding path, though I do grow nervous as I approach the boundaries of Equestria, known and unknown.

Intermission III

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

It was apparent to several the students that despite his rigorous education, their professor was cherry picking only those ideas that supported his notions of how things had happened, disregarding anything contrary to the existing narrative as probably absurd.

“Again, we seem to have intuited the past correctly! What Rose is describing to us as the method that the ‘Lower Courts’ employ is a system very much like our own. Obviously, we have no empress or king, no single ruler; rather, we have a democratic system wherein each pony has a say in the outcome.

If you recall, it was not until recently that we’ve functioned as a society like this- after the cataclysm, Equestria fell into a feudalistic pack of collectives. Each was ruled by a single individual, and these chieftains struggled for dominance, hoping to be a monarch over all rather than a monarch among monarchs. On a sidenote, Charles Mane almost accomplished that task during his lifetime. The records tell an intriguing tale, if you should feel like stopping by the library after class.

Anyways, despite having an Empress, it seems that most functions of the governing body acted in a similar manner as ours. Again, I think it fair to attribute the change from the dark ages to our modern standard of politic upon those who forwarded the enlightenment movement, the same ponies who discovered and studied the Twilight Sparkle cache, championing a paradigm far greater than rule by One.”

Once again, the same earth pony raised her hoof, “But didn’t Rose AGAIN describe something that looks exactly like how our modern society works? We’re also in a ‘two-party’ system. It’s election year for three of the 12 council seats, and I’ve heard the exact same ‘lesser of two evils’ line used in campaigning. So, wouldn’t her criticism of the old political order still apply today?”

The professor was nearly beet red now, hearing his students spout what he considered to be conservative nonsense. His resolved hardened, and he knew that he had to take action in order to keep the room under his message, his control.

“No matter how similar it might seem according to her descriptions, this is one pony who apparently never attended higher education- my colleague who sent me the copies of these documents, and who summarized them for me discovered a few things about her past. She was a flower vendor for Celestia’s sake, what did she know about politics? Without benevolent government the world would fall into ANARCHY! Do any of you want that? Instead of sitting in this heated classroom, part of the greatest nation in the world, you and I would all be out in the wilderness, scavenging for a minimum daily calorie count- always on the edge of starvation. Government built the roads we walk on, imported the food we eat, protects us from the wild races who eat flesh, taught you how to read and write. Think about that, next time this ancient pony tries to tell you about how the state is immoral. So stop it with your mode of inquiry- we are here to determine what life was like in the past and what happened to Celestia. We are not here to learn about an outdated political philosophy.”

Intimidated into silence, the student dropped her query.

“Let’s move on class, and do beware these words, I would take them with several shakers of salt rather than just a grain.”

Magnificence

He who would learn to fly one day must first learn

to stand and walk and run and climb and dance;

one cannot fly into flying.

0 A.C.

Let me reflect, for just an hour ago I have reached the western border of Equestria. From where I rest now, I can see the beginning of the great wild plains, edge of the known world. Lying north of our peaceable land are jagged mountains, home of the Gryffon clans. Beyond their ranges lie an arctic wasteland, home to none. The blizzards become impenetrable the farther north one goes so there is uncharted territory there, though Gryffondom has a legend about that space, something about how life once originated there. East and south of Equestria are other nations of other races, yet the stories go much the same as in the north. Only to the west is there considered to be ‘empty space’, though there are the wild people who live there.

Shaggy and massive, these are the cousins of those buffalo who do live within our equine nation. A few years ago, tales of one of the tribes inside of Equestria spread rapidly after the Elements of Harmony resolved a dispute between them and some citizens near this border I write from. It was during the first year of Appleoosa’s settlement, I believe. In typical Equestrian fashion, we sent pioneers to the frontier of Equestria to build a new settlement and naturally, they did not think about informing the local ‘savages’ about planting an entire orchard on traditional stampeding grounds. Bloodshed was barely averted - the ponies and buffalos managed to come to an agreement to resolve the issue peacefully. But the underlying cause of the conflict was never addressed: the idea that ponies have a right to take whatever land they deem suitable.

Luckily for the Appleoosans, that particular tribe forgave the encroachment, willing to be friendly to the newcomers. The more assimilated tribes still tend to live near the frontier, and though they maintain some ties to wilderness, they also appreciate trading with our kind. Undoubtedly, out in those uncharted lands lies a tribe who would certainly go on the War March if we tried expanding that far, the way we have, on a small scale, done recently.

Once upon a time, much of the land on which I currently stand was part of that wild kingdom. Only slowly have we carved out their space, but who really knows how much of it there is? Certainly it cannot go on forever, which is why our society must be stopped. Let me explain this a little better.

When we store huge amounts of food, fit for much greater populations than we have, it is only natural that our living population goes up. And so we must find more sources of food. How? By planting new fields. And so this positive feedback loop continues- Suppose we have 1000 ponies and enough food for 1500. Soon enough we’ll have 1500 ponies all working and producing enough food for 2500 ponies. And so on, until there’s no more fields left to plant. So we expand a little farther, planting more seeds and eventually we have 5000 ponies. You can see how it might progress. Eventually, the land must run out (either of minerals and nutrients, or simply being at full capacity). So our expansion is exponential in scale...

From the first moments I reached the outskirts of Equestria, I was shocked.

True wilderness.

It touched me in a way that is hard to explain to those who live in a sculpted landscape. Even in the midst of the Everfree forest, one knows that all around them are cultivated acres, ponies humming as they go about their efficient livelihoods. Despite being in that small tangle of wild, one is not isolated the way that it is felt on the outskirts of ‘civilization’.

Surely landscape affects people. When ours is cropped and ordered, everything where it ‘ought’ to be, I feel that it reflects a great insecurity within ourselves. Fifty years without us on the surface and none of this would be important land, it would be desolate and wasted as we’ve driven away everything but ourselves and that which feeds our own food.

I journeyed towards the outskirts of Equestria, through widely spaced farms, each surrounded by great fields of whichever crop they were harvesting. As I followed the road over the lip of a hill, I was suddenly in a different world. Before me stretched an endless ocean of hills, covered with sage and prairie grass in shades of silver, subtle browns and oranges, pale yellows dominating the scene. Above all this stretched the most enormous sky I have ever seen. Nothing in all my life had prepared me for this scene of utter emptiness which had sprang upon me without warning.

I am not sure where I am going with this, yet I felt that it was worth recording.

Much of what I put down here is hard for me to communicate; I have not fully condensed my own ideas of what ‘ought to be’ within my own mind, let alone be able to articulate them fully on this sheet of parchment.

Anyways, I thought I had peeled them off, those pesky lenses of cultural perception. How much wronger I could have been, I cannot conceive!

Relative to my fellow Equestrians, my glasses are broken and cracked; shattered but still obfuscating my vision and still very well attached to my nose. And I cannot see without them!

Up to this point, all I’ve really been able to do is say ‘Sweet Celestia, this is clearly wrong!’ Yet, on the few occasions I manage to make this point to others and have it acknowledged, I’ve had nowhere to go after that. My great feat of disillusionment has merely been the easiest step towards a path I see as righteous and worth fighting for. And that’s the thing, I can only see the first meter of this path, for it is winding and lonely, overgrown from few people treading it down.

I want to broaden this analogy: Think of a great forest, with all of creation outside and somewhere at the center there is a great place that is told of, where everypony in the world can be happy or fit in, one way or another. At various places, different thinkers have bravely cut paths into that forest, following the terrain from their starting point and either reaching the center or being led astray as they lead their followers. Rarely, if ever in recent times, has there been someone to follow down the path that I am starting to see. If I look towards the other inroads, I see millions of ponies following each other at a rapid pace, charging headfirst into, for all they know, a meat grinder at the bottom of a pit. And the only reason they go? Because everypony else is.

Coltaire once said, “Our species is so made that those who walk on the well-trodden path always throw stones at those who are showing a new road”. Is there a way to know which paths lead to destruction? Is it just blind luck? I don’t know, though I must struggle to find the best and fastest way into the center.

One of my problems, I am realizing in hindsight, is that I misunderstood the root cause of the larger issues at stake. The source of, for lack of a better phrase, badness in the world comes not from Celestia’s power and her monopoly on it. It comes from the organization of the society based around it, the society that is expanding unstoppably and exponentially.

I reiterate: my glasses were cracked, but not torn off.

It is time for a history lesson, I am thinking. Talking to anypony off the street, they don’t really know about the world outside Equestria. Mostly they’re just like “Outside of Equestria? Isn’t Equestria like, all of the important world?”. They don’t necessarily say it like that, but it’s implied.

The Equestrian tale begins like this:

Once upon a time, there was an empty planet. It had formed out of star-stuff. For a long time it was hot, but finally it started cooling, and was covered mostly in water. Somewhere, somehow, in that water, microorganisms took shape and started evolving. Slowly, life grew more and more complex until finally some pioneer struggled from the murky depths into crisp air. And so life started to evolve on land as well as in the water. Fast forward a few million or billion years and our Terra started looking much more like it does now, for--

    (We can see the writing slide off the page, the ink trailing strangely as if hastily abandoned. After a margin of space, the writing continues)

This is AMAZING!

Two days have passed since I stopped in the middle of that sentence, and I have much to record.

I will start from my moment of great surprise:

As I recorded my thoughts on this ledger, I felt a tingling in my fur, a sense of somepony watching me. I knew that I was near the border, so my precautionary sense were working extra hard. Hard, yet I should have died had not my accosters been peaceful.

Without realizing it, I had been encircled. A scent wafted into my nose, powerful, overwhelming, but not unpleasant. It was an earthy smell for it implied wide spaces, open sky beating upon boulders surrounded by swirling dust. It smelled like the true world.

I dropped my quill off the parchment and noticed a dark mass approaching from all directions, bringing the smell with it.

The first faces revealed themselves as they approached my campfire. Long brown strands formed their shaggy beards and coats, some braided in elaborate patterns around polished rocks, or shells, or feathers. Others wore their fur loose, dirty strands hanging under the weight of wild living, framing the twisted ivory that curled out from their skulls, obscuring their black eyes that glittered with the intensity of the night sky.

Yet, even as the beasts towered over me, surrounding my every avenue of escape, fear remained absent. I felt a hard hoof on my shoulder- harder than any little pony’s that I had met. Turning slowly, I was face to face with the darkest buffalo I had ever seen. He was 4 times my size, at least, his hide the color of burnt pitch. His were the most elaborate decorations and swaying atop his head was a crown of great eagle feathers.

Resonating from some dark cavity within his chest, his voice was strange and deep, as if Equine was a foreign language, rarely used, “Little pony, what are you doing so far from home?”

His eyes were narrowed in suspicion at me; pony-folk were not known to care for camping trips, for we are very urban creatures. And perhaps there was also some idea that I might be a frontrunner, a precursory scout for more settlers. I certainly wouldn’t have been setting a precedent if that were the case.

I replied cautiously to the inquiry, though my heart was racing with excitement. I had barely just reached the Equestrian border, nor had I found the nerve to cross it, yet here before me stood, perhaps, the object of my quest - some of the peoples whom I had set out to meet.

“I am a wanderer, seeking only knowledge”. I waited for his reply.

“What kind of knowledge?”

“Knowledge of how to live, the only kind that is useful.”

His eyes were appraising, and perhaps somewhere within them was a hint of a smile, though he remained stone faced. Without another word, that great one before me let out a large huff and turned west, his back to me. His tribe gathered around him and they set off at a slow walk, as I gawked.

A voice behind me startled me out of my daze, inquring, “coming?” Followed by a light giggle. The equivalent of one of their foals dashed past me, joining her relations and leaving the invitation hanging.

Apparently I had answered satisfactorily.

Apparently, I was going to meet the buffalo.

Maddening

Those who would,

Should.

Despite having already walked the whole day just to get to the border, I followed the herd for many miles. There was an uneasiness within me yet I was trembling with excitement, energy practically bursting from my hooves. We camped the night in the open plains; clearly it was only a temporary rest stop.

And for the most part, I was ignored. The same buffafoal that had invited me to accompany them brought me a last meal. It was a bowl of tall grass mixed with flower petals from who-knows-where and then she promptly left me for some other duties.

Now that everyone was situated, the chance presented itself to properly observe the state of my new companions. By rough approximate, this herd was 30-40 strong, all of them appearing to be at the peak of their physical prowess- again with the exception of that small one. She certainly broke all of the norms of these people, and I began to wonder why she was with this tribe of... warriors? It grew apparent that this could not be the whole of the tribe- no, these were all males.

I picked at my bowl, appreciating the delicate simplicity of the meal. Out of a seeming wasteland, these innovative wanderers had managed to produce a delectable meal, something to truly satisfy one after a long day’s march. Almost as soon as I had finished, the small one approached me again, though she visibly wanted to say something this time.

     I decided to start the conversation, “Thank you for the hospitality, for the meal and a place to rest my hooves. It has been most welcome.” She gazed at me with luminous orbs, as if wiser than one of her stature commonly was.

    “Chief Jumps-Higher would like your audience”.

    She decided to abstain from easy conversation, then. Following her example, I rose to my feet and indicated with a nod that I understood. She led the way and I observed that she did not appear to have a cutie mark- these people were as blank of flanks as any foal.

    We wound through different strands of buffalo grouped in two’s and three’s, towards a tipi that looked no different from the rest. Within rested the great black coated chieftain, eyeing me with an unreadable look. I could feel the power emanating from around him- practically a visible aura and I couldn’t help wondering if this were the buffalo equivalent of a unicorn, for there was a certain hint of magical residue.

    “So you are the pony called Rose?”

    “How do you know that?” I was sharp with my reply, for I had not told anypony my name.

    “There are always ways of knowing”.

    Sensing that he wasn’t going to elaborate on that, I asked, “What do you need from me?”

    “That is not the real question, I am thinking,” he hummed, from somewhere deep within himself, “For now, you will be guided by Little Strongheart,” he indicated the buffafoal that had supported me on occasion these last few hours, “and we shall speak further once we reach our home.”

    I took this as leave to go, bowed towards my host slightly, and withdrew from his temporary abode. Little Strongheart trailed me back to my campsite and gazed at me, expectantly. Her name stirred within me a recognition and it took me a moment to place it before I realized: this was one of the people who had been involved with the Appleoosan incident. So I asked her, “Aren’t you from one of the tribes that lives within Equestria?”

    Startled by my bluntness, she didn’t reply at first. But she cleared her throat, and did, “I think you are talking about the tribe of my grandfather, Thunder Hooves?”

    I nodded my assent, implying for her to continue. She took the hint.

    “After the peace treaty was signed with the Appleoosan ponies, my grandfather decided to send me out with his cousin, Jumps-Higher, to learn the old ways of living. He feared that I would become too entrenched with the modern pony’s way of life, having seen the quickness which with they built Appleoosa, or having witnessed one of their powerful trains. He was worried I would lose touch with my heritage. So here I am, learning the ways of a medicine buffalo- from one of our greatest teachers.”

    “So Jumps-Higher is a true buffalo then, in the greatest essence of the word?”

    “I have never met another of the same stature”.

    I pondered this. I had journeyed from Equestria, in search of the wild peoples, and they had found me. Also, I had ended up in the camp of one of the most revered of their race... Perhaps greater forces were at work.

    She interrupted my reverie by apologizing, “It truly is getting late and we march out at first light. Perhaps you should get to sleep, Rose, I will wake you in the morning.”

    With that, she left me to my own devices and I proceeded to follow her advice, and curl up for the night.

    I woke to a gentle hoof-shaking on my shoulder and I peered into the innocent eyes of Little Strongheart. The camp was mostly packed and ready to go, and within half an hour we were off again.

    As we travelled, I decided to ask the buffafoal about the general philosophy of her people, so I posed to her this question, “What is most important to the tribe? Is it the individual and their rights? Is it the general happiness of the community? How is ‘good’ measured?”

    After an interval of thought, she finally replied, “For us Buffalo, there is just the earth we sit on and the open sky. The Spirit is everywhere. Sometimes it shows itself through an animal, a bird or some trees and hills. Sometimes it speaks from the wasteland, a stone, or even some water. What is important is that we respect the Great Spirit and all that it resides in.”

    This was a vague answer, and so I tried to get her to elaborate, “What do you mean? Who is the Great Spirit? Who does it reside in?”

    I could see her struggle to get the right words out, though I did not fault her. After all, not many foals could articulate the philosophy of ponity in any sufficient manner. Eventually she said, “It’s like this... To you they are just birds, to us they are voices in the forest.”

    It made sense... But not, at the same time. So I focused on the walk and the scenery, unable to get a proper grasp on her mindset.

Around noon-time, we crested a lovely hill and I got my first very first view Jump-High’s village. A thin trail of smoke was drifting lazily to the clouds, emitting from a bonfire in a dirt clearing. Looking down from atop the hill, I could see the thatched roofs of semi-permanent dwellings- crude circular houses assorted around that central plaza- the whole settlement surrounded by sporadic trees that eventually thickened into a deep forest. At a lower elevation than the village was a clear lake, sparkling with purity.

The land was truly wild here, the air fresh, the scents crisp. I smiled at Little Strongheart and our group began to follow a path single file, down towards the waiting homebodies.

When we got there, I received a few strange looks but not what I would consider enough for what was probably the first time a pony had ever been here. Only two days out of the border, yet this was still uncharted land.

Apparently I was to be stuffed in a corner again, to be forgotten about until later, as everypony was already caught up in hurrahs of greeting. So I settled, and it was not until the sun had started to set over the lake that I received my summons. I followed Little Strongheart to the hut of the Chief, and she beckoned for me to enter.

He was lounging inside, surrounded by a cloud of sweet incense, burning into the air from a tray of delicate clay.

“So.” He rumbled. I cocked my eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. “So,” he repeated, “you are the one that they send us”.

I gave him an astonished look. “What do you mean, they sent me? I came here of my own volition. For that matter, how did you know who I was?”

He gave me a look that I imagine must have been reserved for petulant children and those who ignore obvious information. “The Spirits told me”.

“What spirits?”

“Those who have been, who always are... Those who reside within all of us.”

It was scandalous. I had traveled for weeks on end, to come out to this wilderness like a virgin for sacrifice, only to be told about some other religion. Furious, I got to me feet, ready to take my pack and start hiking back to Equestria.

“Where are you going, silly pony? If you tried to leave now, even if we didn’t stop you, the timberwolves would get you, or perhaps you would run out of food and water on the way back and simply collapse from exhaustion. Do not act rashly.”

I realized that I really was a prisoner out here, only alive at the discrepancy of the one before me. There was no chance I would get back without any help. So I asked, “what would you have of me?”

“For now, nothing. But if you have any questions, now would be the time to ask them.”

“Well then Chief, how about you tell me about yourself? What’s going on here, all that.”

He chuckled at my obstinance, knowing it was all show. “Very well, I shall start from the beginning. I was born and raised in what is now Equestria, among the tribe who live where Appleoosa now stands. Chief Thunder Hooves is my cousin, and we were the last of our kind to be raised completely in the old ways. So even though I learned of life partially through the scope of the pony-kind, from being in close proximity with them, I still had that bridge back into our ancient wisdom. Eventually, I took it upon myself to go visit those who live as my ancestors did, farther west than any pony has gone and I found out many great truths. I developed a connection with the living spirits of this earth, and they helped me to create this tribe. Now I am teaching Little Strongheart, my cousin’s granddaughter, the ways of the medicine.”

“What spirits are you talking about? It sounds almost like you’re thinking of a Unicorn’s magic.”

He scowled at this, and proclaimed, “These Spirits are the original medicine, the original technology. Your unicorn magic is a young, snot-nosed upstart compared to the old ones whom we worship.”

"So why am I here? It’s like you had some purpose in mind for me.”

Apparently this buffalo easily changed his mood, for at this his frown turned into a full grin, and it looked like he had to stop from guffawing, “You tell me, why are you here?”

So I began to summarize all of my qualms with the status quo, evoked my opinions on the continued expansion of Equestria, and for the first time had the opportunity to hoist all of my frustrations on a sympathetic party.

I finished with the sentence, “... and so I felt morally compelled to leave, hoping that somepony would have the answers as to how to stop the destructive machine.”

His smile was long gone and he finally said, “I have never drawn the picture together quite like that, though I see mostly the same problems as you. This land-theft is a new concept among our people, for we do not believe that anyone can own the ground beneath our feet, the mother who raised us all up. So naturally, ponies see us as wasting the land which they leave to us. Maybe it’s a good thing they would not let us buffalo keep that land. Even the area around your capital city, Canterlot, was once ours to run upon. Think of what would have been missed: the motels with their glowing signs, the pawn shops, the gift shops with their “Genuine Buffalo Crafts”, the saloons, the life-size statues of magical beasts. If that land belonged to us, there would be nothing there, only trees, grass, and some animals running free. All that real estate would be going to waste!”

I could do nothing but assent my agreement. After a moment, he asked me a question which I would hardly know how to answer.

“You, little Rose pony. You are unique among the equine-folk, as far as I have seen. Perhaps the Spirits guided you here for that reason. In any case, I wish to take you on a vision quest, for it should harden your resolve- show you the path which you must take. Will you come with me now, to recognize those whom you have been blind to your whole life?”

I nodded, and Jumps-High stretched onto his muscled legs, and beckoned for me to follow. We started towards the dark strands that marked the beginning of the forest, and I heard him tell me to stay close. After a little while, the trees began to grow spaced and we found ourselves in a bright clearing, the moon shining down on us.

"Let me tell you,” he began, “about a message that the spirits recently passed to me. These are beings of light-energy, essentially, so they can travel fast and far and hear things when certain ones think they are alone. It was only two months ago when one familiar little Spirit came to me and let me know that he had overheard a meeting discussing the territory we now stand on. I was informed that one day from today, tomorrow, a battalion of Canterlot guard will be sweeping the countryside in order to determine a good place for a new settlement. I was shocked! It had not even been twenty moons since we signed a treaty with Celestia, barring her from further expansion. It seems that it only took word of good soil to bring the ponies back to sniffing around. Naturally, where we are settled now is the only good soil around here. Well, this friendly Spirit also mentioned a certain pony was starting to have doubts about her place in society, so I made sure we had watchers waiting near the border. This Spirit told me that you would be receptive to their messages, so they wanted me to take you on a vision quest. Have you anything to say?”

It was the moment I had been waiting for. “Yes,” I uttered, barely able to contain my excitement.

So the chief offered me a hoof-full of what looked like moss, told me to chew it up, and walked out of the clearing.

This is what I found in my notes the next day. I do not remember much of anything.

His dark brows beetled together as he drew himself to his full bearing. Nostrils wide, he snorted a puff of air that misted in the cold before beginning his tale. Rumbling out of his deep chest, the first notes of his song began. Four low bellows reverberated, humming long waves of sound. Four times he bellowed those four notes- washing upon me reams of vibrations that streamed past, morphing the world into strange forms during the same instant that I thought I had it already known.

Strange hues danced around the corners of my vision, whirling colors I had never seen before, each pattern telling a story about itself, the whole of the stories telling one of a much grander scale. I drifted towards the front line of an army of trees, staring them in the faces as they used the wind to shake their leaves at me. One of them bent down and whispered in my ear: I heard it tell of infinity, of timelessness. Hushed, it told me of dreams and the cosmos; it showed me the structure of the universe.

A wavering string, that was all.

A wavering string, resonating, tearing things into and out of reality to the tune of four notes.

Who is the singer?

The creator

Who is the creator?

A useless question.

What is?

Everything.

I woke to find these notes scrawled in my collection. Clearly, it is my own hoof-writing yet I do not remember having ever pulled out my quill. That even such a small level of coherency was achieved in a state that I cannot remember is remarkable, I think.

They say that this was my first vision quest- that I had experienced the spirit realm for the first time, for to have a genuine vision was to be in contact with those of a higher consciousness. Yet I still do not know. In any case, I woke up feeling more complete, much fresher than I have in a very long time.

I see Little Strongheart and she’s telling me that it’s time to pack up, that the Canterlonians are coming soon and that we’re going to shelter in the forest grove. So I finish this sentence and pack it up.

Murder

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

A/N

Author's Note

If you’ve made it this far, you’re one crazy pony!

Thanks for reading this shit, I hope you enjoyed it. I must note here that there are some parts that are not original writing. I feel that certain words which have been phrased perfectly need not be rephrased and need not be considered that most awful of things, plagiarism. This is a work of creative fiction meant for the enjoyment of others, and not profit. The most profound example of this is probably a few segments in the chapter ‘Morality’, which are directly ponified chunks of Lysander Spooner’s No Treason.

After all, ponification is important work and something we ought all to strive for more often.

If you are interested in learning more about some of the ideas put forth in this story, I would recommend the following to you for your reading pleasure:

Ishmael by Daniel Quinn

No Treason by Lysander Spooner

Lame Deer - Seeker of Visions by Richard Erdoes and Lame Deer

Those were the major sources of inspiration for the half-baked philosophy I chose to headbash onto you, though I would recommend Ishmael to any free thinking person... It’s damn near required reading.

Of course, thanks to Hasbro for MLP:FiM

Again, thanks for reading my word-spam, and have a wunderbar day!

Intermission IV

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

The professor gave a great hrmphh of disdain as he finished reading the excerpt, “Now we see how ignorant she really is- to even consider the idea of magic more apparent than in unicorns is preposterous. I can say with certainty, now, that you are all more educated than this pony ever was- perhaps now we are simply smarter than the ponies of the past. In any case, I think our time for today is up. Please pass forward those documents... I doubt we will go over such rubbish again. I will be sure to review future material more thoroughly before having us go over it. Things like this are what make our discipline viewed as fragmented, farther from reality than legends.

Despite the admonitions of her professor, Chella Chex did not return her papers. She knew that she had stumbled upon something that spoke a message she had never heard before- and she did not want to stop the experience until it was done. So she hid them in her saddlebags, passing blank notebook paper up to fill out the pile.

When he had finished collecting the stacks of documents, the professor said, “That is all for today. I will see you on Wednesday, class.”

So she stole the remaining papers to her dorm room, and locked herself in, ready to pour over them eagerly.