Author's Note

Hello & welcome! New story, new author, etc. I'll probably post several chapters that I've got ready to go then put them out as I write 'em. We'll see!

-Later Edit-
The first dozen or so chapters have lots of "text walls". I'll chalk that up to inexperience and maybe clean it up at some point, though no promises. If you can endure it beyond these initial chapters I do work to break them up a lot more, I think starting around 12.

Chapter 1: Memories

Date: Monday, September 1st, 908 AB
Location: Golden Hills, 1 train stop west of Baltimare (pop. ~4000, mostly earth ponies)

Memories, he wonders, how do they even work? Obviously they’re stored in the brain. It’s some kind of an electro-chemical process. At least, that’s what everything I can remember says… and isn’t that an ironic thought. Or, wait, is irony the right word? Damn that stupid fucking song.

“Cure, pay attention! Bring over another box of cucumbers! I’m almost out up here and there should be a few boxes left in the wagon.”

He lets out a quick “Sorry dam” while fetching the next box of supplies for the display.

So if they’re stored in the brain, how can I have them if they’ve never been in this brain? I can’t possibly have the same brain; it would be about half my damn torso, let alone able to fit in my skull. Well maybe my scale is off a little bit, but not much if these cucumbers are about the same.

Cure Wave gets the box on his back easily enough, then brings it up to the stand where his dam has set up her garden’s harvest. She had been moving merchandise pretty well and Cure was tasked with playing the shelf stocker every time something started getting low. Obviously, though, he had a few other things on his mind.

Cucumbers are usually about a foot long if I remember right, so they make a pretty decent, if crude ruler. Well, the ones mom grew weren’t that big, but I know the ones we’d get at the store were bigger. Given we’re in bullshit magic pony land where random earth pony number 3152 can grow better crops than a fully industrialized, modern farm, I’m betting these are ten to twelve inches, roughly.

I’d guestimate I’m about two feet tall and about the same length. Weren’t their bodies more tall than long in the show? Also, weren’t they only like… three feet tall at the withers or something? I remember Celestia at least kinda towered over everyone, but she was still a pony. If you see a pony that’s six feet tall at the withers is it even a pony at that point or a damn horse? I think I would be looking up at her knees right now. Being weak and tiny again blows ass.

Also weren't their faces more… human? I guess my schnoz isn't full-blown horseface, and the eyes are definitely too big and forward facing… but nobody would think anything but "pony" when they see me. Definitely not seeing the weird dog/pony/human mix kinda thing the show had… though I'm pretty sure pony and horse necks are more horizontal than vertical like we are. Divergent evolution I suppose.

His focus snaps back to his dam who is looking his way from the storefront again. “I said melons, Cure. Get a box of melons out of the cart and bring it up here.” Looking warily over her only child, Spreading Vines was starting to get a bit concerned. “Do you need to lie down? It’s like you’re asleep on your hooves today.”

The memories of a very different lifetime had come to him over the last few days. Fortunately a big chunk hit just before bed a few nights ago and seemed to “settle in” overnight. A colt just a bit past their 8th year would likely freak the hell out and go screaming to his parents, otherwise, but the most valuable and important memories for his immediate circumstances made his situation clear to him when he awoke the next morning.

His initial reaction was roughly “Holy shit, I’ve been isekai’d or something. Wait, I remember hacking my lungs up and being in the hospital. Well at least I can forgo all of the moral quandaries about “oh did I just eat some baby’s brain or something” since I can still remember the last few years. I wasn’t aware while stuck in the womb for the nine months ponies are preggers, thank all that is holy."

“Huh? OH! Sure, one second,” he mutters as he digs into the surplus boxed up in the wagon.

Well, “wagon” may be a bit generous. It’s definitely larger than a cart, but it’s not a full sized wagon, just wagon-shaped. It holds about a dozen crates of produce, tops, which is probably about half of what his dam’s garden can produce in an average month. He couldn’t pull it himself, at least not loaded, but he may be able to get it moving right up until a hill came along. Then the evil bitch that is gravity would flip him the bird and it would be game over. Moving it while empty wouldn’t be that hard.

The wagons were all parked in rows set back from the vendor stands a bit since everypony’s full inventory wouldn’t fit in the relatively small displays they had set up.

I can think of a dozen ways to make this faster but damn if these ponies just don’t seem to care about efficiency at all. The emphasis has clearly not shifted to maximizing profit like humans did from about the 80’s on. This is obviously just as much a social gathering as it is a business opportunity.

Cure thought about the social aspect of the farmer’s market. Clearly he would have to make a few more friends at some point. The whole overarching message of the TV show was that true power could only be fully realized when the collective group worked together. Plus, he is a member of a herd-prey species now. The whole communist ideal may not have worked with a bipedal, predatory, evolved ape but it seems pretty damned successful in his current situation. Sadly it looked like most other ponies his age dodged the draft or skated out already.

He had a few friends from before "the download" but maintaining those might be a real challenge now. They'll also certainly notice a change in Cure's behavior before too long. Of course hanging out with kids a lot more won’t be the only adaptation he’ll be getting used to.

I’m never going to be able to eat meat again. That’s such bullshit. Salt, pepper, and some worcestershire sauce on a t-bone in a sous vide cooker with soy-buttered mushrooms, garlic mashed potatoes, and stewed tomatoes. Blackened Salmon on rice with some air fried asparagus. Snow crab legs with drawn butter. Oh man I better stop or I’m going to literally drool on dam’s fruits and I don’t think ponies will pay extra for that. Still, if I knew I wouldn’t live to fifty I wouldn’t have held back so much.

Seriously, though, I figured the whole destiny mechanic of the world would cram you in the body you were “most suited” for. That’s what they did in the stories Alanna and I would read together. I figured I’d be a griffon or a dragon then. Well clearly that’s bunk… fucking fanon BS. Even if “pony” was the best fit I think I’d probably give up two legs for a damned horn. Who the fuck decided it was OK to put me in a world of magic and then prevent me from casting a damn lightning bolt? Actually… I can kind of see the logic there, now that I think about it.

Ugh, let’s just get these last few boxes I can zone out when we get home. There’s only one more box after these and then whatever is left at the stall and we’re sold out anyhow. Then I have the rest of the day to fuck off and start working on magic.

After returning to the stall he took a moment to look over the market. The crowd was thinning a lot as the afternoon wore on. Clearly most of the other weekend sellers were nearly finished with their inventory too, so mom - err, dam should be about ready to head out.

Half an hour later they were packed up and on their way home. While typical for the area, Cure’s feelings were mixed regarding the house. His sire, Clean Deed, made good money working in real estate. His whole family were earth ponies, as was about ninety five percent of the town he called home. His sire had the most normal colors of the bunch, though, with a chocolate brown coat and darker mane and tail.

Dam… his biological mother was the stay at home mom. Surprisingly, with her small garden alone she made enough between trading, selling, and just growing to feed the family. Cure definitely got his colors more from her than his sire. He wondered if she maybe had some Apple family in her because he can remember seeing at least one of them that was close to her color scheme. She had a bit of a darker green coat, not quite “forest” green, but close, and more of a yellow than a blonde tail and mane.

His other mom, or really just “mom”, worked as his sire’s de facto assistant-slash-secretary, though she is just as, if not more vital to keeping the lights on as he is. Well, if ponies actually had to really worry about keeping lights on, that is. Candles lit? Lamps oiled? Light gems charged?

Regardless, Title Search kept Deed’s tail out of the wringer more than a few times when he couldn’t find something he needed

They had met a few years ago and hit it off, originally as partners. When it became obvious he was bad with paperwork and organization but great at the people part, or “pony part” of the job, they divided up the work accordingly. She is pregnant with, presumably, his first sister, and due in about 5 months. Apparently pony pregnancies last about the same as a human’s. Horses carried for a little longer, but since pony foals are born closer in physical size to human babies the 9 month preggo time seems about right.

Her coat was a light powder pink color with a darker purple mane and tail. Really, it was a pretty color scheme and reminded him a lot of Cadance’s colors, except she didn’t have the multicolor thing going on like the future princess would.

His dam and sire were really young when he was born. Apparently he was an “oops” baby, so they were planning on having another foal next year once Title had hers. The polygamy thing initially seemed odd, but he got over almost immediately. Title was a wonderfully sweet mare and doted on him at every opportunity. She treated him like her own even though he’d only known her a few years. He found himself looking forward to his half-sibling being born. The idea of having a large family just seemed right to Cure, so the thought of a bunch of cute fuzzy brothers and sisters running around made him smile.

God I miss my family. I’m so relieved Cydni didn’t have to watch me die, but poor McKynzie. She lost her grandparents six and two years ago and now just lost her mom and dad on Father’s Day weekend. I hope Brad can stay strong and get her and Alanna through this. I’d give anything to hold my girl and my granddaughter again. If time flows the same here as there I’ve been dead for 8 or 9 years, assuming conception was the day after I died. That’s a terrible assumption though. I’m in a whole different fucking universe. For all I know it’s been forty billion years and the big crunch and another big bang has happened. Wherever my memories were stored beats the shit out of magnetic tapes if that’s the case.

Then again, there’s gotta be some link between this world and the human world, so… parallel universe with some bleed over? I doubt it’ll matter in my lifetime, so I guess I might as well focus on the present. Wait, how long do ponies live? Wasn’t Granny Smith like hundreds of years old in the show or was that fanon again? I don’t really remember seeing lots of other ancient looking ponies though. Then again all my great grandparents are alive and half of their parents are still kicking too.

Ponies have foals in their late teens to early twenties a lot more often than humans though. Mom and dad are 24 now, which is a tad old to really start building a family. Way to fuck their plans up, Cure. Good lord, dam was only like fifteen when she got pregnant.

I think my grandparents must be in their late 40s, and my great grandparents are in their seventies, maybe late sixties… and their parents would be in the late 80’s to early 90’s, give or take.

The whole having kids early thing is the ticket though. Makes it a bit challenging, I’ll grant, but McKynzie was ready to get out of the house by the time we were in our early forties. Most of my friends had preschoolers while she and Josh were graduating. Shame what happened to that boy. Drugs, booze, and motorcycles don’t mix well, but I still felt awful even though he treated me like shit and his loser father like he walked on water.

Can… Can I walk on water at some point? Chakra could do it, why can’t earth pony magic? I mean, they seem like their properties do overlap to some degree, don’t they? Holy shit wouldn’t that be something… I’m going to go spam Shadow Clones and turn into a training freak if that’s the case. Then probably draw EVERY set of eyes everywhere and end up being dissected or something. Or go down in legend; one of the two is likely if that worked, maybe both.

How fucked up is it that I’m going to probably end up owing any success I have to watching cartoons with my kids and grandkids? Actually, you know what, I’ll just chalk this up to another benefit of spending time with them. I’m glad I didn’t end up in the cartoons that I had when I was their age. That shit was way more violent. I don’t care how they play it up for comedy, Tom getting the guillotine for Jerry fucking up dinner just wasn’t cool, especially when you show it to sub-ten year olds. Jerry was a total fuck, looking back on it. Let’s not even talk about how many guns were in those Looney Tunes skits. Yosemite Sam’s whole schtick was shooting Bugs in the face and if Wile E Coyote’s ideas worked half of them probably wouldn’t have left much intact Roadrunner to even eat.

I guess those were more dad’s generation than mine, though. Still, all those 80’s cartoons were some kind of post-apocalypse or stranded on an alien planet. Actually, there was a MLP from the 80’s too, wasn’t there? I don’t know shit about that one, though. I think some of the characters were the same. I seem to recall a Scootaloo but I’ll be dead by the time this show’s one is born. I wonder if I can leave a trust fund to research deformed or underdeveloped wings or something.

Upon arriving at home Cure got the hugs, nuzzles, and “thank you’s” from his dam before peeling off and heading over to a few of the rows in the garden that were just reseeded with a pencil, a notebook, and some goals for the day.