Infinity in all Directions

-- 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.