The Diary of a Fool

by mr_shimmer

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life
Length: 2215

I made the mistake of disagreeing with a god. Now I am in that god's home plane.

I was just an ordinary everyday human. Now I am the only human in a strange plane of existence. All because I was a stubborn fool who opposed a god, without divine backup.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-05-31 09:33:44 UTC

The Making of a Name

My name, well what should my name be? Well what is in a name?

Names are often snapshots of one’s self. Their actions, their memories, their regrets. The name also represents their passions, their hatreds, their emotions.

So what is my name?

Back home

My name used to be Alex.

Well, Alex, Alexander, Alexander Douh, Alexander K. Douh, Alexander Kenskry Douh, and a variety of online monikers and usernames.

Who I was depended on who I was talking to. Not to say that I was living double lives, but subtle differences, minor changes in mannerisms, in formalities.

So, what is to be in my name? I am no longer who I was, and these ponies don’t know who I was…. So who am I?

Perhaps an explanation is required.

I was brought here though the ultimate agent of chaos, and am being forced to keep a journal. I was ignorantly happy with my life until a creature whom has since been identified as Discord, changed my life so drastically.

We actually had a conversation, via an, I guess an ‘interlocking network of synchronized letters is the easiest way to describe it. My people had managed to connect the far corners of the world is seconds using this system. And over time, this system was evolved, expanded, and repurposed. Letters became pictures, pictures became animated, eventually sound was added in. With letters, animated pictures and sounds, came a new field of entertainment, online gaming. It was though this field of entertainment I spoke with Discord.

        At the time, I had not realized his potent powers, and had merely treated him as a peer of sorts. We had talked about my view on long term effects of actions. For example, if I while walking home step on a flower, what could become of that action? Would some mare find inspiration in the ruined flower, or maybe she might lose hope, and wallow in despair? Maybe some animal will come along and eat the dead plant? That plant might make the animal sick, which could end up spreading a plague, or merely distracting a empathetic mare from something important. These events might spiral out of control, and from the most basic of actions, a vast chain of events may arise. Because of this, I felt that people cannot be judged on their action, and actions alone. Their intentions, are what I felt was important. Discord did not quite share my feelings on the matter, although a part of me wonders if that is because he always knew what would result of his, or anyone pony’s actions.

        Of course, I remained civil, as any sane creature should, just because your opinion is not shared by everyone pony, you can’t be mad. However, Discord had other thoughts, and could not agree, and in order to turn me to his beliefs, brought me here.

        So who does that make me?

        A fool who opposed Discord without the help of some powerful, magical artifacts.

        A fool, a fool who dared stand against a god for his own believes. I know who I am.

        I am Prometheus. I really hope I didn’t misspell my name.

        I am really glad that I haven't actually been formally introduced to anypony, well, beyond the immediate interrogation from suddenly dropping into the throne room.

I blame Discord. For some reason I think I’ll be saying that quite a lot.

        So what is the newly dubbed Prometheus, aka myself, to do in Equestria.

        The princesses said to move to Ponyville. I can’t really find it in myself to say no to more gods, well goddesses. So I am to move to Ponyville, move into an empty house, and find a way to keep on living. But what am I to do? Idle hands do not end well for humans. I guess that is why they suggested I keep this journal. Some way to keep me sane.

        But just writing a recollection of my days will not be enough. I know myself well enough to know that.

        Well, my chosen profession won’t really work. Being a game developer doesn’t work in a world without computers. Well, when you were trained with computer gaming in mind.

        Maybe I’ll become a writer. After all, Equestria’s inhabitants somehow read, write, and speak English. But what to write? Mystery? Nah, I can’t really do suspense. I’m much better at analysis, give me a book, give me context, and I can give you an essay. But analytic writing doesn’t really pay, until I become something along the lines of a professor. But what would I be a professor in?

        English? Humanity? Writing? All of that would just be an outside perspective looking in… hey, that might work. A class on perspective... Different cultures, different ideas, different experiences… all things that sum up who we are. The basis of anthropology. But do I really want to do all the work required to do something like that? Maybe I’d be some form of mail class?

        Like a group pen-pal thing?

        Maybe. But specifics!

        Class size? Grading? Required reading? Oh the details!

        Maybe I can use history books… No, they should all say the same general things. Maybe I’ll just research this in the Ponyville library.

        Well, while I’m on the topic of research, I should look around in the Canterlot public library, and see what it takes to become a professor.

        I just hope it isn’t something like having a ‘cutie mark’ in it… Hey, that could be my first topic.

‘Cutie Marks; What do different cultures think of them?’ How do ponies’ opinion of them in Ponyville, or Fillydelphia compare to Manehattan and Canterlot? Bonus points for researching different races’ opinion of them!

I could use the pen name ‘Professor P.‘ and let them all think that the ‘P’ is for perspective. I wonder if they would place betting poles of who I was, or maybe have a little competition to try and find out.

I shouldn’t make fantasies before I know enough of the potential pitfalls. I just don’t know what might happen. I just don’t know if my idea is even possible, I don’t even know that Equestria has universities, or mail classes. I should just cross out the last few what, four inches of text? But then I would have to replace it with something, just to fill the gaps… Well, I still have a while in Canterlot before my train leaves, and the library is right in front of me, time to see if librarians are as awesome here as there were back home my hometown.

Well, here is to hope, hope of a better future, hope of happiness and fulfillment. Wow I sound sappy. Well, my writing reads as sappy. I never really thought of myself as a romantic. Well I guess hindsight is that much clearer.

Chapter 2

I had a most informative dream last night. Now that is an odd statement. Dreams have always been crazy and hectic, and usually forgotten by the time I walk out the front door.

But here, my sleep is full of meaningful recollections. Memories of my friends and family, of my world… And last night? I learned the source of these dreams.

Princess Luna has been gracing me with these tastes of home. And last night she explained a bit about alternate dimensions and planes of existence.

From what I understand of the matter which is second hand(... or is it second hoof?). The proven existence of a single dimension means that there are more. As events happen, time passes. Choices are made, and results appear.

Now enters a chicken and egg dilemma. Every dimension either bleeds into, or bleeds out of, another one. Every piece of art, every inspiration, every muse, is representing another dimension. Now whether the dimension displays itself to a different dimension, or it originates from that dimension, is impossible to know.

That probably confused you more than me saying nothing…

I’ll give you an example.

My father made a painting. That painting was of a jazz band. Somewhere along the creation of the painting, he had inspiration, a mental image so to speak. At that point, one or both, of two things happened. Either my father created a dimension, or a dimension gave that image to him.

Chicken and the egg again, which came first the ‘birth’ of a dimension, or the dimension impregnated the idea of itself into a different dimension.

So either my father made a jazz band dimension, or a jazz band dimension.

Now to further complicate matters are planes of existence.

Every dimension has planes of existence. These planes describe the dimension. In a way, they are like mathematical dimensions of an object; length, width, height, and depth to name a few.

Planes of existence act similarly, however they are not limited to physical characteristics, and include spiritual characteristics.

There are usually three planes; Mind, Body, and Soul. These three planes describe the entirety of the dimension. Some dimensions have more planes, others have less.

This dimension has a plane that governs magic, my home dimension did not.

Therefore I lack any form of magical signature. Whatever that is supposed to mean.

Which means that the short description for context I wrote on the inside of the cover is wrong.

I am stuck in a strange dimension, not plane of existence.

Well, now that that tangent has been written, I can report on my plan.

Apparently this world is opposite of my home dimension when it comes to education. The younger the fillys fillies you plan on teaching, the more educated you have to be. I think it has to do with the whole destined profession and tattoo thing that comes with cutie marks.

I guess they don’t want the young impressionable minds whose future is about to be set in stone to get the wrong idea.

But they don’t really care once the students reach their advanced schooling. Generally meaning a trade school or university. Therefore, if I can find a university that would want the class, I have legal loopholes to insure it happens. That was the easy part. Almost too easy… Finding nearly all the information in a single visit to a public library, with the help of a very kind librarian.(what was her name? Something Velvet... Nightlight Velvet? I’ll just call her miss Velvet) Maybe she is just good at her job… It's not like there is a conspira

Look, I know that you are reading this. Know that if I didn't intervene he would go off on a tangent, and start seeing conspiracies everywhere. This would go on until one of two things happen, he would run, and hide, and therefore stop this experiment, or he would be locked up, thus ending this little experiment. I intervene right here for one reason. The whole point of bringing him to this dimension was to sow the seeds of chaos in Equestrian minds. Sorry for the immersion break.

Cy.

Now you are probably wondering what that legal loophole is.

It is simple, I declare that I am studying a foreign culture. As it turn out, there has been a lot of Indiana Jones types and they tend to be away from the classroom a lot. Now I am technically a foreign entity being granted asylum. But I am technically a foreigner, in a foreign land, with a foreign culture. I declare that I am studying Equestrian culture. I get a lot of leeway when t comes to my class.

Now will come the hard part. Job hunting… I have no idea where to even start. I got a list of universities from Miss Velvet the other day, but I have no idea how the Equestiran postal services work. It is not like I’ll just get a letter saying ‘we want you to work for us’. I hear somepony knocking, I’ll be right back.

Sorry for this immersion break. Yes, in answer to your eventual question I set this up. I brought him to this dimension, and I made sure that his whole anthropological class on perspective came about. Besides it took very little effort. A little nudge here, a suggestion there, a whisper in the dark to dear ol Celly, and the higher levels of this government wants him to do something productive and meaningful. This happened to fit the bill. That is my art, subtle manipulations to cause great effects.

I got a letter from Miss Velvet, well, Twilight Velvet. That is one mystery down, only the rest of my life to go. Rather than copy the whole letter to my journal I’ll just jot down a synopsis.

Pleasantries, blah blah blah… Talked to a few administrators about your idea…. Pleasantries about those administrators… The administrators of Millard Fillmare’s University of Manehattan are receptive to the idea. Blah blah blah… Her daughter is coming by to introduce me to a representation of M.F.U.M.

I wonder when that-- no. not again, how does this happen to line up perfectly? I mention going through hoops to get a job, and one is thrust into my lap. I wonder how long until a visitor pops up, and somepony starts knocking. Well, I’ll put this off to tomorrow.