Infinity in all Directions

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Chapter 1

Infinity In All Directions, by Twiche.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OuCxynO1rw

This is a reading... I'd really, REALLY like some feedback here. Just, lemme know what you think, here or there, I dun care. Onward...

“Logic deals with possibility, and all possibilities are it’s facts” - Wittgenstein.

All possibilities.

It is not that any sense of multiverse can be proven meaningfully (for if there were a link between “our” universe and “another” universe, one might call the term “universe” a misnomer). It is rather that a set of axioms may be taken as the basis for a unique framework which, combined with the rules of reason, creates an entire, infinite world of implication, which can be profoundly, dizzyingly complex if there is enough variance to make it interesting. This is the beauty of reason itself. Reason and the created, and the existent, are perpetually intertwined.

How different these worlds can be, and how wondrous that we can perceive them. Taken in this sense, every fiction, even every unique fiction, is a world. It is a system, structured as any by relations, and it is on those relations that we rely for metaphor, relevance and beauty. Reflect on the mystery of your own imaginings, on your own capacity to delve into the wonders of infinitude.

For this is true of our “actual” lives too. O’ how many lives we may yet lead.

Chapter 1:

Quietly, she stepped into the room, her multicolored mane catching the glint of the early evening sun as it shone through the window. The light also caught on her white face, and I had hoped that it would be reflected in her eyes. It wasn’t. There was serene calm there, perhaps slightly forced as she knew what she’d have to tell me. There was a boundless sympathy, a softness that wished to grant the comfort that it could not. A kindness, even... one that said she would have given a great deal of toil and suffering on her own account not to bear forth the words that she must. Yet there was no light there to shed on my hope.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence and the slightly muffled sounds of the streets of Canterlot. Happy, busy city sounds... the sounds of ponies who were living a life... their life, which they knew, and were comfortable, and content in. Then she sighed, softly, weary with her own troubles and now my own.

“I’m sorry, but there just isn’t anything I can do.”

The words hit me with a dull forcefulness, the kind that almost leaves ringing in your ears. The Princess said a fair bit more, but I only caught phrases... phrases like “magical laws won’t sustain”... “I still don’t fully”... “ways of re-adjusting”. I was slightly preoccupied with myself, so you’ll have to forgive the imperfect memory. At length I did ask her to repeat herself, and tried, really tried, to pay attention as she patiently repeated everything. I was unable to pay attention for the second time as well. I couldn’t stave off the torrent of emotions, which had it been audible would have made a rushing sound like that of seashells blocking the ear from all else but the imaginary ocean within.

It was gone. My world was gone. Not dead, or vanished, or condemned. Simply gone to me. Inaccessible. Beyond. I was carried away from all that I loved, and her words were the severing of a cord, a thread of fragile hope that would have, should have pulled me to safety.

Naturally being in Equestria piqued my curiosity a little bit, and I actually spent the first night conversing with Celestia about what had happened to me, and the nature of their world. She explained the culture, and listened as I shared mine. In fact, she was impressed with my prior knowledge of their world and its culture. I explained that we humans had stories about ponies, and that I... had rather enjoyed the stories. This had made her smile. “I’m glad that we please you and your po... people so much”. She chuckled at the near slip up, and then, let me continue on with my questions.

Yet I had things I loved about home too, and I had already been waiting for a week for the answer, delivered so suddenly, and with such finality. Her words came with grace and earnestness and solemnity, but such did not render the verdict any less heavy. They did not uplift me. I missed too much.

It took until the third day after my arrival for me to come to the end of my long list of questions. Historical questions notwithstanding, but for those she just smiled and said “You’re in a library. Everything you could ask about the history of Equestria can be found right here, if anywhere. As soon as we figure out what’s going on you’ll be free to browse to your heart’s content.” It wasn’t until the fourth day that I asked her if she knew how I could get home. She looked surprised, as if she had expected I might know. Not having anyone else who knew the library as well as she, she set about herself, compounded with her duties and business of running a nation, to finding out what could be found. I was glad of this, for in spite of the wonder and newness of it all, I had a lingering, slowly growing sense of foreboding manifesting in the pit of my stomach. It spoke in angry tension of the end of something once possessed. Agitated by this, and by the simple anxiety of uncertainty, I already longed for the things of home.

I missed my friends and I missed my love. I missed my house and I missed my home. I missed the people, and my sense of place (which was even more damaged by the transport out of all places as I had ever known them). We exist as part of a culture, and in our culture we find security and a certain camaraderie with others. It frames our language and thus our thought. It colors our pleasures, so that the smell of a hearty breakfast or the sound of people arguing over sports that we may not even care about have a certain familiarity to us. More than just cultural context, there are the events, the people, which seem real to us... tangible. I could not hold the woman I adored, I could not hear her. I could not caress her.

Even those who I did not love as her, but who were still a pleasure to be around, were missed. Friends who’s laughter or joking or even mockery had a texture, a tactile presence. Rather than going out to a bar or just spending a night in with my friends playing games or to classes I paid little attention to (as if one learns in class) or reading any books from my own world... I had to sit in a library for a week, snacking on fruit and bread while the Princess tried to figure out how I’d gotten here, and if I could go home. I attempted to busy myself. I straightened the section of the library that Celestia had asked I keep to. I tried to read the scrolls around me... but it was all technical, and magic being technical above all, the texts around me were nothing short of mystifying. I tried to entertain myself, but ultimately there was little for me to do but sleep or sit. Sit and wait. Sit and remember and hope. Hope to return to a place beyond the reach of any eye or foot. A place that for me was utterly... away.

Now it was away forever. Even beyond hope.

Celestia continued to talk, but soon realized that wordy comforts would do nothing, so she simply bowed her head slightly, and withdrew from the room even as her emblem and charge withdrew behind the trees. I was left alone, beyond any seeming possibility of everything familiar. I paced, back and forth, over and over again, for a while. What would become of me? If I was really so strange to the ponies, then I could not expect to simply live life anew here... and I did not want to live life anew here! I had my own goals, and aspirations, and dreams... and they did not involve a life here, indeed they were not possible here. I was but a year from finishing university, and then... my life would begin proper. I had recently made up my mind to propose to the woman of my dreams, and the planned date was only two months away.

No, I would not die without her, but I had no wish to be without her all the same... least of all... without the chance to ever speak to her again, or say goodbye at the very least. My heart turned at the thought. I fell on my knees in front of the window, pressing my forehead to the sill, and dug my hands into the sides of my face. I dug my fingers into my ears, blocking out all sounds of the city, and cried. For myself, for my love, for my friends too. Physical convulsions matched my sense of self and without any pretense of dignity or restraint, I wept like a child, a lost child, who in a moment of fantastic terror imagines being unable to ever find his way again.

A few minutes later when I had calmed enough to move, I stood and made my way over to the bed, collapsing heavily onto it. I did not sleep a long time, until the stars came out bright and clear, and I was able to focus on each one of them.

Focus, and wonder, about those little points of light.

Then when I finally slept, I dreamt the unsound, uneven dreams of one who cannot be sure at any point whether or not he was awake or dreaming. I slept unsure, hoping that I would awaken into a dream, in which my fantasy was made real.

What bothers us about the idea of being trapped in an illusion, is the fear that we could beat against the glass containing us, and find it unbreakable... the fear that there may be neither freedom nor imprisonment in the grand scheme of fictions and realities. The thought of transcendence, at its heart, is painful and terrifying, but not as much as the idea of there being no transcendence at all. Even those who say there is no “highest truth” sincerely hope for one, and their language betrays them. To not want “Truth”... few would have the courage, the confidence, to swallow this blue pill, to take it into themselves.

Maybe that’s wrong. Maybe there is. Maybe it’s simply more subtle.

I dream't of an endless expanse of green grass, all around as far as I could gaze. In a perfect circle, in every direction a few miles off, high and dark clouds rose up from the earth, like the foreboding cliffs at the edge of the world. However the sun shone brightly overhead, warm and inviting. I stood in plain clothes of an off white, and spun round and round, gazing at the rim of the sky. Suddenly, silently, with naught but a smile my beloved appeared next to me... Her hair, a deep vibrant brown, which fell past her shoulders... Her eyes the lightest brown, and her smile... slight. The solemnity permeated every action. She was clothed in likewise simple clothes, though of a shining white. She reached out her hand, took mine, and pulled me into a long kiss.

I will not share the words whispered to one another, as we laid down in the grass, holding closely together, as one does with dearest love. You may interpret this for yourself. Bear in mind only that this was a dream of the heart, and of farewell.

When next I looked to the field around me, the clouds had moved in, much closer, and in fact only a tiny ring of clear sky was above us, no more than a hundred meters wide. They seemed strangely low too, near to thought and heart... and I could hear the rumble as a current of sharp force darted about somewhere within them. Next to us, had appeared a small pedestal, and on the pedestal, at what must have been the very center of the circle. On the smooth, grey surface was a single, silver bell. With a soft smile, she walked to it, and beckoned me to her. The clouds closed in, rapidly. She picked up the bell, and held out the palm of her other hand.

“Please,...”

She shook her head, as I placed my palm against hers.

A whisper of love, and then one long, loud, clear ring of the bell. The clouds froze, and a single ray of light shone down on us.

Then everything shattered, and I fell.

I woke to harsh sunlight in my eyes. Putting my hand over my face, I sat up onto the edge of the bed, and looked around. Still the library. Still not home. There was a note, pushed under the door, which stated that at nine the Princess would return to my room with a possible course of action. I went to the window outside, and in the far distance saw a clock-tower which showed eight thirty. Nothing to do but sit and wait.

After all, what is a half hour to a man that’s been stripped of his life.

The clock struck nine, the last one digit number, and the tower rang nine long high notes to match. At the moment of the ninth toll, my door opened, and Celestia came in. At first she didn’t speak, simply smiled in a show of sympathy which I felt to be genuine, and assessed me.

“How are you?”

I stood from the bed, and bowed in deference. She was still the ruler here, after all. “I don’t know. As well as can be expected, I guess the question is... what now? I can’t simply sit here... I’ve done enough of that. But I can’t just leave either... I don’t know what to do. I’m in your kingdom, so I suppose I’m under your authority, your majesty. Tell me please... what now?”

She sighed, and then, closed her eyes in reflection and concentration. She took a few moments before responding. “I’ve been thinking about that too. It would be cruel to ask you to stay in here, and it would be wrong to ask you to leave my kingdom, when you don’t need to. If you choose to stay here, it would be easy enough to find a place for you. My subjects are good, and you would be welcomed by them, I know it.”

I thought for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Yeah... I guess it wouldn’t make any sense for me to refuse. Thank you Princess, for your help.” She gave a slight smile. “You’re welcome. I’ll see at once about arranging your new home... somewhere away from the city so you can adjust to our way of doing things. I have other duties, so I will return when I can.” Without waiting for my response she turned to leave, though she stopped at the doorway.

“Something else you may consider...”

“Yes, Princess?”

“You miss your home and your... people, and you’ll continue to miss them. You’ll miss the way life was. I can’t give that back to you, and for that I’m deeply sorry... But I can offer you a new way of life to belong to. My magic can’t stretch across whatever separates your world and this one, but here I have... some power. I could make you one of us.”

My eyes went wide. I had no idea how to respond. She met my gaze, and simply said, “Think about it.”, and then she left.

Nothing to do but sit and think.

The decision didn’t exactly take long. I had no plausible reason to reject, and would at least have a chance to start again. To be obvious, the idea itself would have been thrilling, if I had not been slightly numbed with shock. When the Princess returned, I bowed, thanked her for her kindness, and all too willingly accepted. What did I have to lose? She just smiled and informed me that she would make preparations for the spell, and would send a guard to collect me shortly.

I was led down into the main part of the castle around one in the afternoon, by a royal guard who looked as though he would have been gruff and direct, if it weren’t for my utterly strange appearance. In place of the demeanor he was doing his best to fake was a certain curiosity. I tried to make conversation as we moved through the grand structure, but he seemed to feel that silence was the best weapon in his losing battle to appear collected.

Finally, after an awkward few minutes, we arrived in the entrance hall. The sun shone bright on the white stone and deep red carpets, and the stained glass windows cast their own fantastic array on the floor. The space was symmetrical to precision. Whoever designed it had had a particular fondness for dichotomy. The grandiose sense which such open air should convey was enhanced, not diminished, by minimal, simplistic carving of the ceiling, banisters, and tables off to the sides. Light and warmth played with impossible space, so as to evoke in tandem both wonder and comfort. Beauty seized my heart, and for a time possessed it utterly.

I said nothing for a while. However long it was, it will remain to me forever a moment freed of any sense of time. Only space.

Eventually I noticed that Celestia was standing at the top of the grand staircase, on the landing. “It is splendid, isn’t it? I am honored, and humbled, by the way that someponies’ talents and dreams take shape. The architect was...” She laughed, “quite a character.” She laughed again, as though remembering some merry memory. The image of a pony Michelangelo came to me... Brilliant, but so very eccentric. How does one earn sculpture as a cutie mark, anyway?

Then she grew serious again, “Now onto business. The spell is deceptively simple. You will stand in the middle of the room, and I will cast it. I expect it will feel... more than a little strange.”

“How sure are you that I won’t be hurt, or that you can do it.”

She actually snorted. “I may look young, but I think I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

Well, there wasn’t much to say to that. I positioned myself in the center of the room, glancing around. In a space like that, with the glittering warm rays of sunlight upon me like the embrace of light itself, I could only feel confident. The princess looked at me one last time. I thought that this would be the last moment that anyone saw me, as I’ve known me.. this last physical remnant of my life as it was. The last tangible detail. Perhaps the last of me.

We are most who we are when all context fades away. We are who we are alone, as a point in the darkness. Or the light.

She closed her eyes, and I saw her horn glow. The light from the sun seemed to intensify, to fill the room. All sound failed, and faded away. The color of things dropped out suddenly, and with it all distinction. All was silence and light. I was blinded by the radiance, felt myself slip away, and fell into a sea of white. It was warm. Too warm, a burning, blazing warmth that was inescapable. It was not painful though, rather it was force and intensity felt purely.

I saw nothing and felt nothing. I was and I was not. Emptiness and form, the Buddhists teach, are really one force. The heartbeat and blood and flesh and bone and lung and air alike, of Being. The essential mantra of the Heart Sutra is celebration at this liberation into light and nothingness.

I exist. I do not exist. I exist in a sense, and I do not, in a sense. Neither can I exist, nor can I not.

I am alive, and I died long ago.

Of course, I don’t really care for Buddhist notions of Being, and I think them downright stupidly paradoxical at times, and perhaps that all seems a bit much to describe a sensation. Yet I can describe no more fully the feeling of being unravelled.

All was silence and light, endless in every direction.

Chapter 2

-- Chapter 2:

I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was the vaulted ceiling, with stone as bright and clear as that of the floor. I felt nothing, at all, which was actually more cause for alarm than pain. I also felt, slightly lightheaded, and in my state of disconnect, I reverted to an old habit.

Whenever in a large space, I’ve always been tempted to test the acoustics... by clapping. There’s always been something satisfying about the resounding echo, or disappointing about the lack thereof. It verifies what you’re seeing, and connects the senses. So I did just that, and was rewarded with the sight of two cream colored appendages sticking straight into the air, and hitting each other, quite hard.

A bit of pain. A good thing, it meant I really was still there, in a sense.

I moved them down to my eyes to get a better look. Hooves. It looked like the spell had worked. I looked down at my body, and confirmed. I was indeed a pony. More interesting still, I had wings.

I was a pegasus. Mixed emotions, and theatric descriptions aside, this was cool.

I rolled over onto my stomach, and tried to stand on all fours. The posture was not nearly as awkward as I would have expected, certainly as not as I had remembered (and don’t tell me, dear reader, that you never tried it yourself, even as a child).

The Princess was standing beside me, and smiling broadly, obviously pleased with herself.

“Well, what do you think?”

I walked around her slowly, testing my stability. Given the shifting in my proportions, it took less effort than you might think. I stopped in front of her, and smiled broadly up at her (where she had once only been a head higher than me, she now towered over my head), before awkwardly bowing for a moment, still not completely at ease. “It is wonderful Princess, and I cannot thank you enough for your help. I just...” Even in this moment, what I’d lost wasn’t totally out of my mind. I closed my eyes, and lowered my head.

I felt her hoof under my chin, gently pushing up. I opened my eyes, and looked into hers. “I know. I’m very sorry that I can’t do more.” I could tell she meant it too. What empathy must she have learned, having millennia to observe and experience suffering? “I hope in time you will come to find yourself at home here.”

I just sighed. She was right, there wasn’t much else to do. I looked back at my new form. My tail was a light lime green, and my backside was... utterly bare. I couldn’t help but chuckle at this.

I was a blank flank.

She laughed a little too at my obvious amusement. “It seems like you’ll have to go through that stage of life like everypony else... finding your special talent. I’ll admit I didn’t know what to expect with that detail. It’ll be interesting to see what happens.”

I nodded. “I’ll be an odd one out still I guess. I doubt there are many fully grown ponies without their talent.”

“Well, thats an interesting detail. If I understood you right, you were an adult human... but you don’t look like an adult pony. Not a foal, to be sure, but no stallion either.” I started, and looked at my proportions more carefully. She was right. In fact by my own assessment, I’d say I was slightly younger than the ponies that any reader of this will likely be most familiar with.

I’d have been more surprised, but in circumstances like those, surprise was almost completely dulled under general shock. “What now, your highness?” Having thought about it, my voice did sound like I remembered years ago. Young

“Now you spend the night here, though I think it would be more comfortable for you to sleep in one of the guest beds, seeing as how your appearance won’t seem as strange to anypony. I have other matters to attend to, but I will see about getting you a more permanent place to stay, soon as I can.” She summoned a guard and directed him to lead me to a guest room. It was the one from earlier, who seemed much more relaxed, and therefore much more able to pull off the stoic demeanor than before. I bowed to the Princess once more. “Thank you again, it means... more than I can say.” She nodded, and gave an encouraging smile. “I hope you find it pleasant. Until later, then.”

With a flash, the only pony I knew in this new world disappeared, no doubt to more important business for her people than the fate of one strange wanderer. The guard led me silently out of the hall, up to a spacious room with a large four poster bed, where he stood next to the doorway. “IF you need anything, food or the like, don’t hesitate to ask.” “Er... Thank you sir.” I muttered, before walking in. It suddenly occurred to me how exhausted I was. I climbed up onto the large, soft bed, and had just enough time to wonder what the heavenly material that made the covering was, before I fell fast asleep.

I was there for a week before I saw her again. In the meantime I was well fed and able to practice moving my wings a little. On the second day, a tutor came. He was an eager fellow, smiling and excitable, more than a little foolish at times... but he was patient, and good enough at explaining that, in only that week’s time, I was able to fly tolerably. He said I picked it up rather nicely, and I practiced moving through the gardens, and flying through one of the rather substantial hedge mazes in order to build up the strength in my wings. It was no easy task, mind you. I was years behind others my age, and along with the training there was the psychological element of learning to use an entirely new appendage. Flight itself though was an exquisite feeling. It was odd feeling yourself above the ground, even f only by a few inches, and knowing that you were holding yourself up. Control like that was strange to me, and in the midst of all the new and strange things, quite delightful. He took no end of amusement at the thrill I got simply from hovering awkwardly, and I can’t recall hearing more snorting and guffawing in all my life than the day I overshot, and landed in one of the thick tangled hedgerows with a muffled, leafy crash.

Being outdoors again was refreshing in and of itself. The manually managed weather cycle in Canterlot made for astoundingly perfect weather. Blue skies for most of the day, and brilliant cloudscapes in the morning and evenings, save when for some reason perfect clarity was needed, and then I could see the sun until the moment it vanished beyond. I usually spent the evenings wandering the gardens, until it was too dark to see comfortably. No one tried to stop me, and I even became something of a familiar face to the guards. The quiet gave me time to think, and take it all in at increments, day by day.

Unfortunately, even as it brought peace, it brought memories. A flood of memories, which no novelty could stifle.

The maddening part was the way things were left so wretchedly incomplete. It might have been more bearable, if I did not know that somewhere, “out there” if you will, my love, and my friends, and everyone who knew and cared about me at all... would likely be searching desperately for me. Not to sound self righteous... but I had vanished from them, as abruptly, as completely, with as much finality.. as they had from me. No farewell or closure. Just an abrupt end. I had to ask myself what I would have been doing if those days had passed normally, and I hadn’t ended up here. Would I be out, at the very moment, at a movie with my beloved? Would we be making love... having dinner... playing games? So many possibilities for what might have been. A small voice in the back of my mind made note of the fact that that still applied... but it was usually drowned out.

At the end of the week I was summoned to the entrance hall again to speak with the Princess. My tutor was there, chatting excitedly about my progress. When she saw me she smiled warmly, and asked how I was getting along. I explained, and even flew around the hall a bit, showing off what few tricks I knew, including a few loop the loops and a poorly executed twirling motion that almost sent me hurtling through the window. It earned a loud clear laugh from Celestia, and that made it quite worth the near catastrophe. At length of course I landed in front of her, and bowed low, asking what was to be done with me.

“I have found you a small cottage on the edge of a town called Ponyville, and I’ve set you up a small stipend so that you have plenty of time to settle in before you need to worry about anything else. You’ll be taken there tomorrow morning, by chariot.” I thanked her once more for her kindness, as a lost soul, and as a subject.

The next morning, I bade farewell to the Princess and my tutor.

“May you find comfort and peace.” This was her last blessing to me. I also thanked my tutor, who, rather than any formalities, said to simply call him Soarin. Then he gave me quite the hug. I was surprised, by the suddenness and the genuity alike, also by the endeared, even slightly protective manner he had. He barely knew me, still, I appreciated the affection, and quietly returned it. Simple, friendly affection... it gave more comfort, in its own way, than all the blessings of the Princess, though those too were meaningful beyond words.

Then I climbed into the back of the chariot, while they both stood and waved, the one in the blue uniform with the same, if I may be candid, slightly stupid grin on his face. They faded out of sight, after a while... and I was left with the open air... and a new life. If such a thing can be had.

For a moment, I actually chastised myself for this train of thought, thinking that it was nonsense to suppose I could not. Nietzsche said that "He who knows why he lives may bear almost any how." Of course, I only had a love of existence itself left as my "why"...

But perhaps, I thought, that was enough.

Perhaps wanting to live, and enjoy, would be enough in itself.

Chapter 3

-- Chapter 3:

Perhaps my reader will have imagined this place before... perhaps at night, in idle wonderings and wanderings, when the mind retires its censor. I shall relate what I can.

The city of Canterlot was large, but all too soon I was swept away. The bustling city gave way to slightly haphazard suburbs, and those too passed to rolling countryside. I could see behind the capitol the long range of high mountains, with gleaming snow-tipped peaks, which stretched on and on, well out of sight. Opposite was the countryside, which ended off in the distance with forests, and an occasional, oddly placed mountain. The overall landscape was more jarred, variant than anywhere I’d ever seen. It had a surreal vibrance to it, contrasted by its serenity. The air was warm, and only crisp because of the speed at which we went along.

The two pegasi pulling me made no offer at conversation, and I had far too much to take in to attempt it myself. In time, I saw my destination... Ponyville. I chuckled a little, because the name still amused me. Within the context of all the names of places and things which turned out to be real places... Fillydephia, Salt Lick City, Canterlot... How drab must a name like Ponyville seem to it’s inhabitants by comparison?

Still, there it was. Not drab or boring by all appearances... perhaps a bit homely. Windmill, town hall, cottages scattered about almost at random, with little regard for order or structure. In many ways it was laid out like a child had built it with a set of blocks and an afternoon of inventive play, the quintessential small town. Without the large tree near the center which I knew to be the library, I could imagine a small human town looking similar, though with more paved roads, and cars and... people. I shook my head and tried my best to simply appreciate it for what it was, without the impositions of memory. Some things are easier said than done, but to my defense, I really tried. Novelty preserved me, for auite a while. After all, we take amusement where we can.

We touched ground by a small house on the outskirts of town, by the river. The two guardsmen escorted me inside, informing me in short, matter-of-fact statements about the arrangements. I would be sent several hundred bits a week for a few months. I had the residence to myself. I might occasionally be contacted to see how I was carrying on. I thanked them both, and bowed, now more comfortable with the motion, and appreciative of their efforts.

“Her Highness said to tell you to take your time. She has faith in you, and expects you will find much to enjoy here. Excuse us.”

Then they were gone, and I was alone.

For that first week I came to know the town. I walked about and saw the sights and noted the shops. Having no project but myself to worry about, I was free to simply observe the daily life here, and try to figure out how I might become part of it. It was a happy place, after all, small but busy. From early morning until late evening there was almost always someone, or rather somepony, in the square.

Several times I saw somepony I did recognize. I saw Applajack most often, pulling a cart of apples, and at one point I decided to buy one from her. It was, quite honestly the sweetest apple I had ever tasted. Their farm is aptly named. For a while afterwards I kept a steady supply of them. I also once saw Rarity having lunch with Twilight Sparkle in a cafe, though naturally I didn’t speak to them. I had no cause to, and they should probably have found it quite strange if I walked up to them without any introduction and acted familiar with them. Still, I did get a little pleasure out of watching them occasionally, almost like apparitions of my own whimsy. The food at the little shop was also quite good. I decided that, at least, the ponies took great care with their food. I kept a particular fondness for that cafe, and frequented it often in the weeks whic followed.

Occasionally I noticed an odd look or two because of my lacking a cutie mark..The social structure was virtually the same as that of home. Ponies had groups of friends they interacted with more than others. They had parties, and they had jobs. I didn’t really partake in the festivities. What was there for me to do? The other ponies who were my age, or at least who appeared to be, weren’t exactly interested in my sort of conversation... that much was plain. I found it better, at the time, to simply keep to myself, even as my longing for companionship grew.

I practiced my flying regularly. As I became more proficient, I could fly higher and higher, for longer periods of time. I still didn’t trust myself go too terribly high, but it was a task, and a pleasant one to be occupied with. The feeling of flight cannot properly be articulated, really. It was nothing like being in a helicopter, or indeed resting on any surface. I was propelling myself, by my own physical effort. It was the most complete means of distraction, even more so than simply watching the ponies go about their lives. Perhaps this was because watching them cut too deeply into memory, of others I watched. Oh the pangs of a soul made mostly of eyes.

I couldn’t distract myself from dreams, however.

I dreamt once, of a great field, like the one from the night after Celestia told me the news. This one was equal in it’s impossible vastness, and also perfectly level. It was covered in tall, golden brown grain. This had a glow of it’s own, from the low hanging sun in the distance. The wispy clouds above were like streaks of pink and red, and close to the sun they seemed like stripes of ceaseless flame gouged into the blue of the sky itself. Facing that way, the sun was still bright, and I raised my hand to cover my eyes. My hand...

I was human.

Yet my hand did not block the sun. It was translucent, and merely distorted the light, like some strange, semi-clear fluid. I looked down to the rest of myself to find myself normal... it was only my hands that were so strangely made up. I waved one back and forth a few times, just gazing at the strange effect. I bent down, and broke off a piece of wheat, lifting it to the light, twirling it for a moment between my fingers. I threw it back over my shoulder after a moment, and felt it hit my outstretched wing.

The wing did not surprise me. Why not, I suppose, is the stuff of dreams. In fact I smiled, and simply started to gently flap them. Looking back I saw they were translucent as well, though the feathers still kept a slight cream color. Lowly I ascended into the sky, only a few feet high, and looked around.

Nothing but the earth and sky. I looked up.

There, in the clouds, was her face. She was waiting here for me. I flapped my wings harder, desperate to go to her, suddenly. Desperate to return to the woman I loved. Yet it seemed that with every inch I gained in height, she became all the harder to see. For a moment, she vanished, and I felt my wings simply stop. I crumpled to the ground below, and when I stood up she was there again. This was nonsense! I’d suffered enough... I’d suffered all I could take. I fell to my knees and yelled up at her to come down.

She just smiled. Smiled, and slowly shook her head.

I screamed, I screamed her name. I screamed that I loved her, and I fell forward onto my face, sobbing.

Why did this have to happen? I didn’t ask for it? I didn’t even fantasize about escape as much as many do. How could this happen to me... and not at least to someone who wanted it? Why was I denied my life? I had nothing left! Not my friends... nor my family... nor her...

Nothing could justify this... nothing!

I wept. I wept in my dream for a long, long time, images of home spinning through my head. Even the most mundane were met with painful nostalgia. I did not get up for a long time.

When at last I raised my head again, and she still was looking down at me, still smiling... with a sad, pained smile. I could see a single tear down her cheek, through the distortions of my own. I wiped them away with my hand, which seemed if anything clearer than before. The sun, which had been flirting with the edge of the earth, grew fantastically bright for an instant, as if in one last glorious crescendo... and finally departed. In the dull red glow her face seemed all the clearer to me... all the more beautiful. Her skin was clear, and radiant even in the fast fading light.

I looked up at her, and in the midst of my sobbing and whispered,

“Sarah... Let me come back... home...”

She shook her head softly again.

“Sarah, I can’t-”

She put a hand to her lips, and suddenly she was with me... not far away, not ethereal... not a memory... but with me again. Before I could speak, she simply reached out a hand.

I took it without a word. She smiled, and for a moment even the soft breeze that had been playing across my skin, that had been rustling her hair ever so slightly, stopped. And all was utterly silent and still, save her words. Soft words of encouragement.

I heard then, twice, the loud clear ringing of a small bell. Able to bear it no longer, I rushed forward, intent on pulling her into a mad embrace... On hugging her, on confessing my need and my love and my loss...

The dream fell with me, and I awoke on the cold floor, my face wet, in the dark.

I could not bring myself to climb back into bed, for a long time. I simply laid there.

I did not cry.

The bitterest tears are those one wants to shed, but cannot, for whatever reason.

“He who has a why he lives may bear almost any how.” - Nietzsche

And what then, when we have not anything? What does Sisyphus do when he can bear the struggle no more, but sit at the bottom of the hill, and let the boulder roll atop him?

The next day was damnably clear.

I woke. I showered. I went out. It was the same routine I had been going through, though with less expectation. Nothing would work out here. How could it? I had no skills, no friendships but the general well-wishing of Celestia herself. I had no aspirations here. I walked along the streets of mid-morning, and listened to ponies laughing and living. I wanted neither such joys. Eventually I simply sat in the middle of the town square and watched the ponies go about their daily business. No doubt it is always a unique day for those in the crowd, but to the observer, the crowd looks like any other.

That didn’t take long to tire of its already thin entertainment value. So I took to the sky, or rather, the air a hundred feet or so above Ponyville, and lazily drifted back and forth over the town. Boredom being my enemy, I strained myself, and started flying back and forth fast as I could. My speed and dexterity had drastically improved, and while my skills were still not wholly on par with the average my physical age, I wasn’t hopelessly behind either.

That too did not satisfy for long. The day was not shaping up to be productive, whatever that might mean.

I went up, away from the town and away from the ground, away from all grounding. Lazily I drifted up and down and around the clouds, gliding through some of the smaller ones, marvelling at the texture. It was a strange, almost fantastic thing to feel resistance in something which had been only a collection of water vapors to me before. The clouds here had consistency, and substance. This was something I had known about before, but to experience it was delightfully fantastic. After a bit of flying, I found a large cloud high up enough to give me an excellent view of the miles of countryside around town. There I settled in, and breathed the high clear air.

Start with something simple, right? Fresh air. Soon this turned into a full on nap. and

“Hey! What’chya doin just laying there?”

I looked up, and for a moment wasn’t conscious enough to respond. Then I was too shocked by settled understandings.I knew it to be Rainbow Dash at once, but there she was, RIGHT in front of me, the brightest array of sunlight imaginable on her multicolored mane, so much so that I actually had to squint a little when she turned to just the right angle. She was flying above and in front of me, looping back and forth in a sideways figure eight... quickly gliding up on the sides, and then lazily drifting down for a moment before shooting up to the top of the curve to repeat.

Up and down. Up and down. Round and round and round again.