Everything You Know is Wrong
For a place called the “Realm of Chaos”, it sure is boringly consistent.
I mean, it’s right there in the name: Realm of Chaos. You’d think it’d be a bit more… gee, I dunno, chaotic. But, no, it’s the same whenever you go there. You can make maps of the place. Maps. Shouldn’t a place of chaos always be changing? Sometimes I go there just because, praying to see something different, but I never do.
Oh, it’s strange, don’t get me wrong. Take a few good seconds looking at it, and you’ll think that reality is out to lunch. But once you get used to the fact that you turn in imaginary numbers of degrees, the Law of Gravity is more the Vaguely Enforced Warning of Gravity That Isn’t Always Enforced in the Same Direction, and you don’t need to breathe (even if there was anything to breathe), you see that it’s really just another form of order. Physics works differently, but it always works the same. The hands on your clock spin around independently of each other, but they always spin at the same speed and in the same direction: the minute hand goes clockwise at about 10 or 12 rpm, while the hour hand goes counterclockwise at 60 rpm. If you’ve got a second hand, it twitches back and forth between 7 and 9, taking a second to go from one to the other and freezing at each place for just under half a second. Gravity’s always weird in the same ways in the same places. And distances might not be Euclydesdalian, but they never expand or contract when you’re not looking.
It’s kind of disappointing, really. You can’t expect what you can back in Equestria, but you can always expect the same things to happen in reaction to the same stimulus.
Which is why I wasn’t worried in the slightest about the manta ray thing whose maw I was plummeting up towards.
This was easy. I knew this was coming. It always happened when I journeyed into the Realm via this route. I had this bit down to a science. I slowly pulled back on the plunger of the flare gun strapped to my left front hoof. Couldn’t pull it too early, or it’d explode too soon. Couldn’t pull it too late, or the manta would just eat it. The flare itself couldn’t harm the manta, don’t worry; it endures much worse things than a little fire on a daily-equivalent basis. No, I was concerned about how the flare would affect me.
Right in the middle of the range to launch, I released the plunger. The flare ignited far enough away from the manta for the heat to spread across most of its body. I spread my legs wide and slammed into the pieces of hot scattered around, sliding to a halt less than a yard from the manta’s mouth. Perfect.
Newly-formed heat is solid in the Realm. Rub your hooves together, and just as they’re heating up from the friction, the heat will solidify and push them apart. It feels kind of like jello, actually, jiggly and bouncy. The heat wobbled as I hit it, slowed down, and rebounded. Kind of like a trampoline if that trampoline was invisible and made of something that can’t exist in Equestria.
I cartwheeled through the not-air, away from the manta and towards one of the “islands” in space. This particular one looked to made of solid gold, but it was actually brass. Half a not-second before I hit it, I pulled my legs in and rolled. This island wasn’t suitable for landing at all, but just beyond it…
I somersaulted off the edge and, falling through the not-air again, twisted around to reach into my saddlebags. My grappling hook was right where it ought to be. I pulled it out and began twirling it, waiting for the proper island to pass me by.
There are times where I wonder if my own presence is what keeps the Realm so consistent when I’m here. I’m a creature of order, after all. Maybe my existence is forcing consistency into the Realm somehow. Then again, I’m just a small speck here, relatively speaking. When you jump into the water, you get wet, the water doesn’t get you. (Unless, of course, you’re the Most Interesting Mare in th-)
I was yanked back to not-reality when the Abyss of Infernal Agony zipped by me, and I had to react quickly to secure my hook to the Sidewalk Crack of Vague Annoyance. The hook caught in spite of my inattention (of course it would, I’d been doing this for over a year now, I could do it blindfolded). At the speed I was traveling, I probably wouldn’t been killed in Equestria. Here, I just kinda stretched out like a rubber band before snapping back and sailing through not-space. I went right over the Crack, towards an island that kept bubbling rock, with smaller islands of molten lava (bright purple) interspersed in it. I lightly sprang from lava island to lava island, staying on each island as little as possible to keep my hooves from freezing.
A row of rocks stretched out over not-space from the edge of the large island. I casually skipped across them, the proper firmly ingrained in my hooves in spite of the pseudorandom movement in the rocks. A few not-seconds, and I’d reached the end of the row. I slipped my hook into a crack in the second to last rock and threw myself out into not-space. My rope went taught and my hook dislodged as I swung, just as it was meant to, and I landed on another island some not-distance “below”. This one almost looked like a normal forest, except for the fact that the trees were plaid and upside-down.
I shook myself off before the dust magnetized me. Not a fun experience, let me tell you. I strolled through the forest, taking it all in. I’d seen it before, but I could see it a thousand times again and not get bored.
The Realm’s consistency may be boring, but it itself is most definitely not. Consistency doesn’t make something boring. If it were, Equestria would be one of the most boring places in the world. In fact, the world itself would be boring. Equestria’s got all its different sorts of beauty; the Realm’s got its own sorts. The islands casually twirling in not-space, the colorfully uncolorful background behind them, the delightfully bizarre animals, the not-places you can find… Once you adjust to the place, it’s surreally fantastic. Just too consistent for a place with “chaos” in its name.
I reached the edge of the island and looked out into not-space, at all the islands arrayed around this one. My journey was going well; I would’ve taken a breath of contentment, but you can’t do that in here. After a few not-moments of sightseeing, I started swinging my grappling hook again and looking out across the islands, trying to find one in particular. And then I saw it. There, many many many inches away (not many yards, the difference is important here), was the residence of the sole sapient inhabitant of the Realm I’d met: Discord.
And for a spirit of chaos, Discord is an absolute letdown.
He’s such a wuss that he can’t walk outside without using his powers to secure himself to the ground. If troubles come his way, he snaps his fingers and they’re gone. Oh, big whoop. He thinks it looks cool, but when you can do literally anything, destroying one of those manta ray things like that is about as cool as me putting my shirt on in the morning. At least put some style into it and make it look interesting. Make it explode into confetti or something, not just vanish. He’s not even good company when I try to talk to him. He’s just so… shallow. Everything’s always about him, him, him, him, HIM, him, him, HIM, him, HIM, HIM, him, HIM, HIM, HIM, HIM. Sometimes he brings up this one mare he’s supposedly friends with, but only how she exists in relation to him. If he’s telling the truth, she must have the patience of a saint.
Given a choice, I’d never come to this part of the Realm. Of course, it’s not like I do have a choice; I’ve got work to do.
Another few swings took me right to my destination. I skidded to a halt on the sidewalk, reached into my saddlebag, and pulled out Discord’s mail: a personal letter from Luna, two of those open-an-account-with-us bank offer things, a package that kept trying to bite my nose off and actually succeeded once (I pulled it back out), a subscription to Tapeworm Fancy, and some bills from places with names I don’t recognize. I’ve never found out where the bills come from; they’re never in my bag when I enter the Realm, but they’re always there when I reach his place. They’re also apparently written in liquid tungsten instead of ink, but whatever. Ain’t my problem.
I shoved the mail into the mailbox, waited for my hoof to lose its gills, and went back to the edge of the island. Pulling out a lasso, I looked “up” and waited. Any second now… there. A herd of pigs flew by (how typical), heading on their merry way, just like they always did at this time-equivalent every day-equivalent.
I lassoed one of the back legs of the last one in line. It squealed a little, but didn’t try to shake the loop off and kept on flying without changing in “altitude”. I kept a tight grip on the rope with my teeth, and I was yanked into the not-air. The pigs always went the same route; in less than a minute-equivalent, they’d pass right “over” a dimensional rift. I’d let go, fall into it, and wind up right back in Equestria, none the worse for wear and ready to continue my route.
Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, nor rifts in reality stay me from the swift completion of my appointed rounds, but damn do I need a raise.
