Who Are You? (The ?Displaced? Story)

The day had passed quickly and Scribbles had several notebooks with him today. He hoped it would be enough room for the information Lyra was about to lay upon him. The watch he wore read the exact time he was supposed to be here.

“Huh. She said not to be late I wonder where she’s AAAA” His scream was cut off as the hand pulled him into the pocket world.

Lyra was awaiting Scribbles in the same place as yesterday. “Sit down we’ve got a lot to discuss today if we ever want to get you out on the market with your one of a kind knowledge. So let me just think where we stopped yesterday. Ah yes our hierarchy.”

Scribble nodded getting to work on the first notebook he brought. “Yes. I’ve got more questions for you but I’d like to know who you call your leaders.”

Lyra put a hoof to her muzzle in deep thought. “Our leaders are mysterious, they choose to make appearances at random and we see effects of there original ideas everyday. What do you think of the color pink?”

Scribbles pulled out a pink pen. “I enjoy the color. It makes things stand out when I need them to.”

Lyra managed a small laugh. “A glossy pink. Not exactly what I was going for but it will do for now. Pink is the color that one of the original Displaced made. She was more of the nature and colors sort of constructor. After most of the colors were made she discovered one of the best colors in her opinion. Pink, the most perfect and beautiful color. That is why after sometime of searching over the other two originals creations she discovered the one that was to be imbued with special magic. The resulting pony was Pinkie Pie. Which means nothing to you but know she has played many important roles over the several hundred lifespans that her magic has been around for. She was the equine creator of pocket worlds and opened the universe up to many new possibilities for Displaced. New trade centers, a new design to these worlds, and technicolor ponies that didn’t fit in made for one hell of a combo.”

Scribbles had already run through about a quarter of the first notebook. “Several hundred lifetimes? And what special magic was she given?”

Lyra nodded her head for a few seconds. “Ever since the color was discovered and given to ponies Pinkie has lived. Everytime one version of her dies the power is passed on to the next pony who the… I suppose Goddess chooses. And the ability is something that all displaced have. The ability to move in between worlds at will with no resistance. She also has the ability to pull objects out of thin air. That’s what it looks like to anypony watching her. She’ll just pull random things out of nowhere and act like it’s natural for ponies to do that. And there is no limit to the size or quantity of objects she can pull. At least not that we have discovered after our years upon years of testing.”

Scribbles nodded listening intently. “Where does she pull all of these objects out of then? One cannot simply pull something out of nothing. That goes against all laws of nature.”

Lyra laughed for a solid minute. “Let me tell you something your scientific greatness, Pinkie Pie don’t give a fuck about any of the fucking rules of thermodynamics or goddamn nature for that matter. She’ll reverse the flow of gravity or shift other ponies bodies into masses that make no sense. There is no logic when it comes to her and that’s why the goddess never intended for there to be more than one of her in existence at any time, but shit happens and we get a million and one versions of Pinkie Pie that we can’t control.”

Scribbles backed away slightly. “So why not just ask this so called goddess to get rid of her? If she’s got as much power as I’m led to believe, wiping something from existence should be as easy as vocalizing your wish.”

Lyra looked deep into his eyes. “She’s too powerful to be erased. Erasing somepony from the minds of all those who knew her would be one thing and it would be easy if she was the only one to ever exist. However, there have been millions of versions of Pinkie and they only grow stronger with each iteration. Maybe ten to twenty thousand years ago something could have been done. But now? Shit, we’d be lucky to make everyone in a single world forget that just one of her had existed. And even then those results might last for a day before Pinkie would be back again.” She breathed deeply to calm down. “Other than her there were two other original Displaced. One male, and one who kept to itself, unknown how he identified. The first of the two created creatures of violence. Humans being one of the more violent races created. He was known to be a malevolent evil Displaced. As such he and some of his creations are not allowed to inter mix with the other Displaced.”

With that the first of three notebooks was set aside and a fresh one was opened. “Humans are among the most violent? I know we’ve had some wars and lots of disputes but I wouldn’t think us to be that bad. Could you further explain that? Maybe give reference to some of the more violent and least violent races?”

Lyra gave a little nod. “The violence level is measured as you’d expect. Wars and other conflicts do put you higher on the list, but it’s not what defines a race’s level of violence. Humans unlike other sentient creatures have a natural tendency towards conflict. Not due to the lifestyles they live or the goods they possess. No, humans are naturally violent and drawn to bloodshed. It’s the natural order of your species to be that way. But don’t worry, a few races out do humans in violence by a large margin. Ghengosias Kansias, are the most violent of all known races that possess the power of Displaced. And yes, I known that sounds more scientific than other race names but it’s all we’ve had to work with in trying to make peace with them. Even our top tier agents who are able to learn near instantaneously about any race have had difficulties fitting in and getting new knowledge. These creatures often tear eachother limb from limb for sport and do not care whether or not it is young or old that they tear to shreds.”

Scribbles nodded slowly writing to make sure he got every word. “They tear their young into pieces? How do they survive then?”

“The young have ample ability to regenerate limbs they lose, often doing so within minutes if not seconds of the original wound. Not to mention they have other practices that are less than savory to say the least. You do not want to see what they do as rituals for mating or what the newly born must endure in their first day if they are to be kept on the planet.” She shook her head gagging at the thoughts. “But among the most peaceful are my kind. But even we are not perfect. Worlds beyond those doors lead to equine worlds ravaged by the pony equivalent of nuclear detonations across the country. Other’s have simply been erased from our jurisdiction as they are too dangerous even for our multiple bodies to deal with.”

“Other bodies?” Scribbles took a second to process that.

“Yes, we have many bodies that we inhabit. It’s not like one body can suit us for all the worlds we enter. As such, the pocket worlds create bodies for us and store them when they are not in use. For example, my human body is stored in the space between your world and this pocket world. And this body will be stored there when I travel back into your world for business.” Lyra stopped to listen. “Thought I heard somepony enter. Must have been my imagination. Either way we have near infinite bodies as they deteriorate over time just like yours does. We can’t keep a body fresh forever. Our minds however are able to withstand the test of time.”

Scribbles held up a hoof. “So you’re telling me that your mind can last forever?” A nod was his response. “So forgive me for being so rude as to ask this but, How old are you?”

Lyra laughed. “I figured that would be a question you would ask first. Well, lets see. If it’s 2015 in your world, take into account the years I’ve spent in this place.” She shrugged. “Best guess on this body is about 32. Overall is a hard number to get at seeing as time here plays weirdly with time outside. The number’s problem in the high hundreds of thousands if not the low millions of years.”

Scribbles’ jaw dropped open. That amount of time to live was incomprehensible for anybody. “A million years old? That’s impossible! There is no way scientifically possible that your brain let alone a couple of bodies could sustain you for that long.”

Lyra put a hoof to his mouth silencing him. “Displaced don’t play by normal scientific rules. Hell the pocket world your in doesn’t even exist in space or time if you want to think about it that way. We exist outside of your universe, in a place where nothing exists except the walls that stop us from floating around out there.” A tear rolled down her face. “Don’t you see? It’s lonely out here. We don’t get to make the meaningful relationships that you all do. If we’re lucky we meet someone who is immortal so that we can bring them here and be happy. Our lives might be long but they sure as hell aren’t worth living sometimes. God, it’s like you don’t even understand what I’m saying. You can’t understand it. I live in a world where your universe could explode if I sat here long enough. And I have to spend this eternity alone, by myself with maybe one or two other Displaced to fill the void in my life. Why do you think we drink so much? We’ve got nothing else to fill our meaningless lives with. We drink to forget about all those who we’ve cared about and seen die. There isn’t an alcohol strong enough or enough of it to make you forget that many people that you loved dying and leaving you.” Her breathing was erratic and unstable.

Scribbles had shrunk back and had been waiting for the onslaught of words to stop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t….. I didn’t know.” He got out of his chair to leave.

A golden aura forced him back into his chair. “No. You came for an interview with a Displaced, and I’ll be damned if I let another one slip through my grasp. I have too much to say and too many memories to relive for you to leave now and not come back.”

Scribbles nodded. “You can continue when you’re ready. I’m in no hurry to be done with this.”

“Good because you’re not leaving here until I say so. Now then, what’s your next question?” Lyra took slow deep breaths to calm herself down.

“I suppose I have question about the other displaced. Namely those who are highly respected amongst you all.” Scribbles kept at the ready for another outburst.

Lyra took a minute before speaking. This time having returned to her original state. “Many Displaced are of high social ranking. The one who you most likely have heard of is The General. She is by far one of the most respected advisors in all of the pocket dimension. She is known to be the fastest of all of us and makes problems that most displaced would think about for weeks before tackling seem easy as she cleans the mess up in minutes if not quicker. Her mind is sharp as are her blades. As for her actual name? I’m not one hundred percent sure the name she goes by in human form. We just call her Derpy.”

Scribbles wrote the name down and circled it. “An interesting name for someone of such high social respect. Most people I know would think it rude to call someone you respected that. But I suppose it carries a different meaning in the world from which she originates.”

Lyra nodded giving a smile. “Now you’re getting it. We aren’t a simple singular culture like I think you were lead to believe. So many influences from so many different worlds makes for one hell of a place when you put it all together. Which reminds me.” She pulled up a bottle and uncorked it. “Been a while since I had a drink of this stuff.” After a few swigs off the bottle she offered it to Scribbles.

Scribbles sat there staring for a moment. “I need a clear mind to be able to think through all of this. Otherwise I would definitely have a drink.”

Lyra shrugged and chugged the rest down. “That’s better.” Her eyes began to sway as did she. “Know what were we talking about? Oh yeah, the Displaced.” She laughed and then hiccupped. “Man that’s stronger than I remember.” She fell asleep before continuing.

Scribbles closed his notebook. “Tomorrow I suppose.” He sighed. “And that’s why you don’t drink during an interview. Shit like this happens. Oh well. I’ll be back tomorrow for more anyways.”