The discovery that our farm revolves around rocks left me stunned and, oddly enough, opened my eyes to an entirely new perspective. It’s baffling. I mean, how is a rock farm even a thing? Shouldn’t we be miners instead of farmers? But you know what? I’m just going to roll with it. It’s probably some cultural quirk or something unique to this pony world.

But what really caught my attention was something else: apparently, things aren’t going as smoothly as they might seem. I mean, they just had triplets all at once—understandable, right? My parents maintain a calm, stoic demeanor most of the time, which could easily fool someone into thinking everything’s fine. However, it’s no secret that we’re not exactly in an ideal situation. Every now and then, I overhear snippets of conversations about working harder, though they never outright mention bills or finances in front of us.

With my parents working such long hours, they often carry us in baby slings on their backs while they move rocks from one place to another, or they leave us nearby in a cart, or back in the crib in their room. I suppose we’re still too young for daycare. Occasionally, one of our grandparents—usually one of our grandmothers—steps in to help care for all five of us.

And this got me thinking. We’re not exactly struggling, but we’re not thriving either. We’re stuck in that middle ground so typical for farms, where good and bad seasons ebb and flow like the tide. This little peek into our situation made me realize something: in this life, I can’t just sit around doing nothing. I have to act; I have to move forward. I mentally scolded myself for not thinking of this sooner. I’ve already wasted six precious months. Sure, I’m still not even a year old, so there’s plenty of time to reflect and plan my next steps.

This brings me to one of the biggest questions that haunted me in my previous life: what should I do with my life? Back then, this question was like an endless chain of ideas branching in every direction, never leading to a clear answer. I’d reflect endlessly, caught in loops of indecision, and in the end, I’d go nowhere.

But now it’s different. Now, in this new opportunity, I can tackle this question from the very beginning, at a young age. If I can reach a conclusion early, maybe this time I can build a better life.

And the key to finding an answer is… a decision tree!

I remember, back in my old life, trying something similar when I was much younger. It was a crude attempt—just a list of pros and cons that didn’t get me anywhere. But now I’m older (mentally) and more aware of the consequences, benefits, and drawbacks of each choice. This time, I’ll create a full decision tree, with every possible branch mapped out, analyzing and defining each step.

This tree will be my guide. By exploring every option and its consequences, I’ll be able to choose my path with clarity and avoid getting stuck in the same cycles of indecision. Maybe, just maybe, this rock farming life has given me the chance to start fresh, and I’m not about to waste it.

Is it weird to get excited about making a decision tree? Of course not! Who wouldn’t feel that spark of excitement when realizing every choice could define their future? It’s that unique feeling, like when you’re a kid and the world feels full of open doors. As you grow older, those doors seem to start closing, limiting your options… but here and now, I have all the doors in front of me, wide open and waiting. For the first time, it feels like I have a real shot at deciding my future. And that, of course, is thrilling.

Today, my mother, Cloudy Quartz, is looking after us in the living room. She’s given us a bit of freedom to roam around while she goes over some papers and calculates expenses at the table. This is my moment; with some free space and fresh ideas in my head, I’m ready to start developing my decision tree.

Handling anything with this new body is a challenge, and honestly, not having hands has been an unexpected obstacle. At first, I used my mouth to grab things—not ideal, but it worked. However, over the past few weeks, I’ve been experimenting with something more advanced: picking up objects with my hooves. I’ve watched my parents do it so effortlessly that I felt inspired. I still don’t fully understand how it works—maybe it’s some kind of magnetic attraction or even magic. If it’s the latter, then it means magic does exist here! Sure, besides the obvious fact that we’re all talking ponies, everything so far has been surprisingly physical with no overt signs of magic. Still, hope is alive! Maybe when I start school, they’ll explain the mystery behind these magnetic hooves.

I’ve been practicing with tiny objects, and I’m starting to manage holding lightweight things between my hooves—though only for brief moments before they slip and fall. For now, I have to rely on using them like stumps. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do for what I plan to do today.

With my goal in mind, I take the first step toward my destination: it’s time to start my decision tree! Every branch represents a choice, and every choice, a possibility. I feel this burning desire to take control of this life and make it truly count.

Because this time… I won’t let things decide themselves.

Two hours later…

“Damn it!” I shout internally. The wooden floor is now covered in lines, notes, and diagrams detailing every branch of my decision tree, complete with pros and cons scribbled in every corner. I’ve analyzed each option from different angles, breaking down every aspect, but I keep running into the same wall.

As I try to keep my sisters away from my masterpiece, I manage to distract the younger ones easily enough by handing them a rock or a wooden block to play with. It’s a bit trickier with the older ones. For Maudileena, I subtly redirected her attention toward the other two. That seemed to do the trick, and she wandered off to join them. Limestone was surprisingly easier—giving her the “family toy rock” somehow earned me her temporary peace offering.

With no further distractions, I refocused on what I have right now: the farm. My family owns extensive land and several structures like the cabin we live in, mills, and barns. Of course, since this is a rock farm, most of the land is inhospitable—just stretches of rocky terrain dotted with caves and quarries where we extract minerals and crystals. And while we have all this land, the farm is far removed from any urban center, and the soil isn’t good for much else… well, besides rocks.

Which having caves, mines and quarries full of precious minerals and rocks sounds pretty good but it makes me think, if we have all that why don't we live in a mansion? Plus the conversations I overheard about the ups and downs... just another thing to add to the list of worries and doubts that I'll address later.

I can’t rely on the farm always being here as a safety net. It’s been passed down through generations, sure, but it’s not impossible to lose it, however unlikely that might be. Besides, I’m not even sure it’s something I’d want to dedicate my life to. It’s a calm and relatively uncomplicated life, but it demands constant effort and leaves us at the mercy of the seasons. I’m not sure how that works with a rock farm, but I’ve overheard my parents voicing concerns about it.

After establishing the farm as my starting point, I began branching out my options. One possibility is the arts. I could try becoming a writer, painter, sculptor, or maybe even a singer, musician, or actor. The arts appeal to me; they feel like a space where I could find inner peace. But realistically, it’s also a highly competitive and uncertain field. Even if I became good at one discipline, success often depends more on public opinion than actual quality, and the risk of it not being financially sustainable is high. I’d need constant practice to stand out, and even then, luck would play a huge role.

Then there’s the competitive and academic path, which offers the potential for good pay and stability. This includes fields like math, science, medicine, and civil engineering. Technology seems limited here—there’s no sign of programming or systems engineering. An academic career would be a safer bet for income, and it also has an intellectual calmness to it; analyzing everything is something I do regularly. But I can’t ignore what I saw in my past life. I had siblings who pursued this route, and while they succeeded, the physical and mental toll was brutal. They wore themselves down with the relentless pace of study, aging ten years in five.

And that’s when I realized something important about this second chance: I don’t want to repeat a life of constant sacrifice and stress just to secure income or stability that could crumble at any moment. In my previous life, that pressure robbed me of time, and I died without ever finding something that truly made me feel alive.

But it’s not like I can live aimlessly either. I need to plan ahead, to build my future piece by piece, crafting a life that’s free from constant worry.

Argh! I hate this. Every time I follow one of the branches, I end up in the same place, as if all the paths are just endless loops.

Take acting, for example. I could start right now by putting on small performances. Fame would be fun, exciting, and liberating. But it also comes with the risk of being stuck in this village, unable to move forward, forever at the mercy of public opinion. One slip-up could end everything, leaving me constantly paranoid about every move I make.

Then there’s the logical path—science, for instance. It could provide good income and respect. But it’s also a life entirely devoted to theories and experiments, haunted by the constant fear of making a mistake that impacts not just my life but others as well. What if something goes wrong? A dangerous artifact? An accident?

Each choice feels like a trap in its own way.

From where I stand now, I’d love to try everything. Be an explorer and adventurer, traveling through this new world, uncovering its wonders and secrets. Be an inventor, building things that benefit others, using the knowledge from my previous life. I’d also love to tell stories—exciting and fantastical ones—or share the incredible tales of my old world, where centuries of imagination created myths, legends, and ideas that deserve to be heard here.

But all these options lead me to the same realization. Each has its advantages and drawbacks, and a single mistake could bring everything crashing down. Life, as I know all too well, isn’t infinite. I can’t do everything. I can only pick one path, and deep down, I fear that choosing one will close the door to all the others.

I’ve been reincarnated, sure, but that doesn’t guarantee I’ll have another chance—or, if I do, that I’ll keep my memories intact the next time.

With a sigh, I let my thoughts drift away. “If only life were much longer… then I could truly do it all.”

While I was lost in thought, I forgot one critical thing. Right now, I’m just a colt, sitting amidst scattered notes and sketches spread across the floor. And right next to me is my mother. She had been focused on calculating expenses earlier, but a sound behind me must have caught her attention.

I give a small jolt as I glance over my shoulder. My mother is standing there, still and silent, observing the mess of notes I’ve made.

Oh no! How am I supposed to explain that her six-month-old foal is making detailed notes, sketches, and decision trees without ever having spoken a word?

I could pretend to be some sort of child prodigy, but the last thing I need is that kind of attention. Wait—does this technically make me a prodigy? Compared to other ponies my age, I guess I wouldn’t be wrong to think so. No, no, I can’t go down that road of thought; it’s just too self-important. Focus, Echo. Think.

What does a baby do when caught doing something they’re not supposed to? Act like a baby!

With no other options, I look up at my mother with the biggest, brightest eyes I can muster. Then, I kick one of the papers with my hoof and start babbling nonsense like “goo-gaa” while scattering some notes around—doing my best to make it look like the mess of a curious baby!

My mother stares at me, one eyebrow raised as if trying to piece together what strange puzzle of scribbles lies before her. After a few seconds, her expression softens. She sighs and shakes her head, muttering:

“Well, I guess you like your little papers, huh?”

I nod enthusiastically, thrilled that my baby act is working. Who cares if I was philosophizing about the meaning of life a minute ago? Suddenly, a mischievous idea strikes me. I grab another piece of paper and put it in my mouth, pretending it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh no, don’t eat that!” she says, quickly snatching the paper away from me.

Luckily, she doesn’t bother looking at what’s written on the notes. She’s clearly stressed after spending hours calculating the farm’s accounts and managing four other foals.

Mission accomplished.

Three days have passed since I was almost exposed as a glitch in the universe. And no, I’m not sabotaging myself. See, I’ve had plenty of time to think this through, and let’s face it—if I truly reincarnated, I should have lost my memories and started fresh, with no traces of my past life. Instead, I remember everything with perfect clarity. If that doesn’t make me some kind of cosmic anomaly, I don’t know what does.

After the “incident,” I’ve been doing my best to keep a low profile. I nearly panicked when, during dinner, my mother started telling everyone about the “strange” moment she found me surrounded by drawings. Thankfully, she told it as a harmless little anecdote, like one of those sweet “baby artist” stories.

Relieved that I escaped discovery—for now—I’ve decided to try something new today. Our paternal grandmother is babysitting us at home again, which gives me a bit of freedom. It’s the perfect time to do something I’ve been meaning to try. The decision tree didn’t give me any concrete answers, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t useful things to do while I figure out my purpose. One of them: studying. So, I make my way to the bookshelf in the living room.

This is the first step in uncovering the secrets of this new world. I can only imagine the wonders waiting to be unearthed in these books. I might be the only one from my old world to ever see the treasures of this land. It’s exhilarating!

I pick the most accessible book from the floor. After a bit of struggle, I manage to place it in front of me and open it with both forehooves—a maneuver requiring far more precision than I expected. And there it is… my first glimpse at the written words of this world.

But… it’s a book about rocks.

Confused, I decide to give the bookshelf another chance. I grab another book. This one is also about… rocks? I keep trying for a while, and every single book turns out to be about stones, minerals, rock varieties… Eventually, I give up. I should’ve seen this coming. After all, we’re rock farmers. Another point for my growing tally of self-inflicted disappointments.

Still, there’s something useful in all of this: I’ve discovered the language here is nearly identical to my own—both spoken and written! It’s as if I’ve hit the infinite-reality jackpot by landing in a world so similar to mine, while retaining all my memories. This is reaching cosmically absurd levels. Whoever designed my reincarnation did a terrible job, but hey, I’ll make the most of it!

“Muahahaha!” I let out a quiet, triumphant laugh, trying not to alert anyone while savoring this moment of pure euphoria. How is it possible that in a completely different universe… the language is the same? Even the writing!

But just as this monumental realization sinks in, the door of possibility slams shut with the reminder that every book on this shelf is dedicated to rocks. Calcite, granite, moonstones, geodes… I didn’t even know there were this many kinds of rocks! My excitement turns to disappointment, though I take it as an important reminder: I’m on a rock farm. My family’s livelihood revolves around them.

Still, this little excursion isn’t a complete waste. Maybe I didn’t find ancient wisdom, but at least I’ve got a starting point. If I can learn about this world using what’s available—even if it’s just rocks—it might eventually lead me to something more interesting.

I pick up one of the books I had knocked over, sit down cross-legged, and start with the first page. "Rocks are the building blocks of the earth, formed over millions of years through pressure, heat, and chemical processes," I mutter under my breath.

I squint at the next sentence. "Each mineral within a rock contributes unique properties, such as hardness, color, and luster. Granite, for example, is composed mainly of quartz, feldspar, and mica."

*touch* *touch*

I flinch slightly, startled. I’d gotten so absorbed in the reading that I didn’t notice someone else approaching. Turning my head, I find Maudileena standing there, her gaze fixed… not on me, but on the book.

We remain in silence for a few seconds. Then, deciding to act, I grab another rock book from the pile scattered on the floor and hold it out to her.

She takes it without hesitation, nods at me, and opens it to the first page. She seems content with this—at least, I think so. I could swear she made the faintest hint of a smile.

With that settled, I suppose there’s nothing to worry about. Back to reading… about rocks. I let out a quiet sigh before diving back into the text.

Author's Note

This marks the beginning of Echo’s “Decision Tree,” which will play a bigger role in the future.

I hope Echo’s internal struggle about which path to take came through clearly here.

Echo narrowly avoided being discovered, but let’s be honest—managing five foals and balancing farm accounts is so draining that no one would pay much attention to a baby’s scribbles.

As for the books: they’re rock farmers. It makes sense that their library is full of geology books.

Also, this is the starting point for Maud’s fascination with rocks.

Thanks for reading!