Traveler of Destitute

by Soviet

Rating: teen
Tags: Sad, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure
Length: 8386

An earth pony of tradition finds himself displaced in a new equestria when returning after 20 years.

Soft Speak, an Earth Pony of tradition, leaves Equestria as it enters an industrial boom to travel the world and learn of other cultures. He returns home two decades later after learning that his father had passed away. Upon arrival though he finds that the Equestria he had known has radically changed. New technologies and mass consumer culture has led to the rise of racial and class conflicts and new political ideology struggles with with the old ones. Displaced, Soft Speak travels across the country trying to find where he belongs this new Equestria.

Published 2012-11-29 06:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-29 06:50:01 UTC

Prologue

This all started with the trains.

Twenty years I’ve been gone and I come back only as an obligation to my late father—a pony of tradition himself. That was months ago. What possessed me to stay in this nation that I no longer recognize I’ll never know.

He named me Soft Speak because of my perceived passiveness, and I enjoyed the name thoroughly. I was satisfied with everything about myself then in fact: my brown coat, gray mane, closed book cutie mark, and the time. I enjoyed then what now seems like a time so unreal, with more pleasure than any of my travels ever gave me. Yet I decided to stay in some foolish attempt to find a place here.

There is no proper way to describe the past few months. Everything that I knew has been turned on me and I can no longer claim to hold any knowledge over what Equestria used to be. I have always been one to enjoy my traditions and now there are those that wish to undo them. My time here was long ago. I should have kept it that way. There is no place for me here. Equestria has changed too much since my departure two decades ago.

Still I pushed though. I pushed on searching even knowing that Equestria would no longer be my home. I did what I was good at: traveling.

Only a few nights ago did I truly realize the error of my ways—months it somehow took—after several days in Canterlot. I know now that my time is gone. Even now my thoughts are still scattered after being through that crucible.

Canterlot, how that has changed. For more than a thousand years Celestia and now Luna ruled over the land with wisdom and kindness. Now these urchins filthy the city wishing to subvert all of that with their Ideologies and Progressiveness. Canterlot now is no more than a staging ground for these would be revolutionaries and radicals.

I will not deny my bitterness. Anyone with proper morals and common sense would see how all of this progress has done nothing but slowly bury this wonderful nation under a pile of gilded accomplishments. But I appear to be the only one left in Equestria with either of those. At least the griffins and dragons kept their stable systems.

All of these business unicorns in every city and every town all wanting the princesses to pander to them. Then the workers made of predominantly my own race of Earth Ponies want to have a say for their working environments being too dangerous. Finally the Pegasi need help with their now overbearing work to set conditions right for every business that needs it while just keeping the seasons going. Weather itself has started becoming a business of its own.

I’ll say, It’s most definitely a mess, a fine mess indeed. We’re all sitting on thrones made of materialistic trivialities while suffocating under them simultaneously. It’s a real fine mess. We’re throwing everything we were off of a bottomless cliff and sacrificing the orderly times of my youth to the great god Progress.

I fled from that corrupted once glorious city and now reside in what could possibly be the last remaining place in Equestria that I can somewhat recognize. Outside of Canterlot lies a small piece of virtually uncorrupted old history. Ponyville is a small village that seems to have escaped the toil of the rest of this so called industrial revolution.

Still, even here I know I cannot remain forever. It is not my place as I hear the mood and attitude of the village and they too only speak of progress and politics. Geographically the town is a fluke, but the inhabitants have all moved on—and so will I.

But for now I am stuck here in this purgatory of a former home. There’s no going back and I do not have much faith in moving forward. It will all be the same. I cannot, and in fact will not, claim that my journey so far has been something of a positive memorable experience that many of my other journeys were. Those journeys were ones of learning and culture. Here it is one of disappointment and loss of culture. Equestria, the nation that stood for more than a thousand years of peace, now has to question what its culture is.

After all of this time now all of that bitterness and disappointment only turns to despondence and dejection. My father would have understood, and I can scarcely imagine the same feelings he must have gone through before he passed on. I am a shell. But I do not know why. I’ve never felt these cynical emotions so much before in my life. No one describing me would use the term “melodrama prone” and I wouldn’t consider myself as such either. I know why I am so bitter towards the changes in Equestria but how has it sunk me so low? What is unique to Equestria that drives me further down?

My only hope now is that Spring Hope will find her place. I’ve finally given up on believing that I will ever find one but she is young. Not like the rest of the vile young. She may be as idealistic but she is by no means deluded. I’ve seen her only sparingly since we left Canterlot. I don’t like talking to her much anymore because I do not know if I am the one who is deluded by this point. Either the whole country’s gone mad or I have.

1

The ship’s travel time was taking longer than expected. I supposed in my case though beggars can’t be choosers. The number of ships going into Equestria has decreased a significant amount since this industrial boom I’ve been hearing about all my life finally came into full fruition. No more need for foreign imports when processes for finding domestic materials became much more efficient.

The ships I’ve seen coming into port from Equestria looked like all kinds of bizarre though. Nothing like I ever remembered them. Some would come with giant chutes sticking out the top spewing out different kinds of stuff that looked like smoke. Not any kind of regular smoke though, this was magical smoke. It’s kind of hard to describe. Others would come in all sorts of strange shapes with metallic-like plates on the sides. ‘Reducing weight for heavier cargo’ I think I heard one of the sailors explaining, or something like that.

Even airships became something to see regularly. That was pioneer technology when I was growing up in Equestria. I can’t say that I’m all that surprised with all the buzz that was going on my whole childhood about all this great progress and potential we could have. Progress, now there’s a topic my mother and father would go on about forever in two very different ways.

I winced at my self-betrayal. I promised myself that I wouldn’t think about my father the entire trip back. Not because of any animosity though, quite the opposite. I loved my father greatly and he was a good pony. Two days ago I received a message informing me of his death.

There are these moments in time, moments when reality seems just a little less real. Maybe It’s just me. But I could scantly believe that my father, Stone Shield, the indomitable as the earth itself, hardworking figure that I’ve come to view him as could succumb to something as petty and mortal as death.

I had gotten word of his death while staying in the Griffin Kingdom. A similar nation to Equestria in its own right. The same monarchy system was there. only with less immortal beings as ruler, and order was maintained just fine. I know for sure my father enjoyed the similarities when he and my mother visited many years ago, about a decade now.

I was relatively new there myself at the time while staying at the coastal city named Talonwater. My parents had decided to visit me—unannounced of course—which lead to a rather embarrassing moment involving me falling off of the docks. Regardless, I showed them what I had known of Talonwater and they were both significantly impressed, my father especially. He would go on about all these new changes sweeping through Equestria and how everything was so different there now with new business empires forming and all kinds of other things that I hadn’t listened to very well. My mind was focused elsewhere from Equestria.

Still now I continue to think about my father when I’ve repeatedly sworn I would not.

The only mark able difference I had seen now were the odd ships. I could only wonder how different things might look at home when I return after all these years. Going through Manehattan on my way back would most definitely show the most noticeable changes. Back when I was growing up Manehattan would be the first to embrace all of these new things being made and my father would not have any of it either. Why he decided to live outside of the fastest changing city in Equestria I’ll never know. Probably for mother.

My mother was one in a million though. A kind of character that I would imagine from stories I heard from my youth. The lively big city girl marrying the stoic farmer from out in the countryside and settling down there. She was far more than any storybook character though.

She complimented my father in almost every aspect: progressive, adventurous, and always searching for new things. Something about my mother always invoked other’s good nature. Always they would ask her, “Dream Watch, do you ever run out of energy?” and always she would answer in the same cool way, “Do I have that much energy? I’ve never really noticed.” Of course she never really did have as much energy as everyone would claim, but she still managed to give everyone else some.

With the dynamic between those two, growing up was quite an experience. As far back as I can recall there was always talk, talk about the future. It all started with the trains too. They came around in full a little before I was born and many were excited over its possibilities, but there was a problem.

See, coal was not very abundant in Equestria and the nations that did have it knew so and charged outrageous prices for it. That great possibility was looking to go bust when something quite literally magical happened. A collective of Equestria’s brightest unicorns came together and eventually made an ingenious fuel source: magic itself.

Magic, as they’ve discovered, isn’t really what most would expect it to be. There’s something like a giant pool of it that is created and stored within each unicorn but in a sort of raw form. Once a unicorn gains control over certain ways to use that raw magic they can manipulate it to do whatever they need it for like levitating things and whatnot. That’s why young unicorns will do things like turn their parents into plants because they don’t have proper control over this magic yet.

I digress. But anyway, this raw magic can also be extracted through a half mechanical half magical kind of process. It’s hard to explain because I’ve only really known of it in its earliest stages before I left twenty years ago. The rest I’ve been filled in on through letters from my parents. The way it works, I think, is by a unicorn simply channeling their magic onto a machine which would ordinarily do nothing to it but the machine’s part is to recognize the raw magic and being storing it. This stored raw magic supposedly works and lasts exponentially times better than any known source of energy. There was much excitement indeed and I must say that I loved the trains when I traveled on them. I can’t remember much past that though so it’s a bit muddled.

What it did do though, as I vividly remember, was spark numerous conversations between my mother and father. On he would go about how it will all have so many bad outcomes because of what they’ve been proposing to do with it and on my mother would go about how it would make our lives so much better and he was just being stubborn.

Stubborn, now there’s a word that couldn’t describe my father enough.

That’s all it was though, talk. Neither really argued past that. For all of their differences they were completely inseparable. Escaped my reasoning all the time and still does. But I never complained nonetheless. I could only imagine what my mother must be going through right now. Only she could truly grieve for him at a level I will probably never understand.

So far I’ve only managed to hold myself from completely breaking down by thinking. Thinking of anything really. I like to think of the good times, the times when I was at the peak of my happiness and death seemed like an imaginary specter meant to scare foals. I suppose it’s my way of denial. This far out away from them the letter could still be a malicious and elaborate prank and I can still keep the good memories alive in my head as if they had happened yesterday.

As the ship loomed closer to the now visible landmass in the horizon that will no doubt be Manehattan, the possibility of any of that eroded faster. The caressing waves against the ship and its slow rocking began to have a continually building adverse effect upon me as they appeared to get worse and those good memories fell into reality until I found myself leaning against a railing to keep from falling over.

My father is dead. And I’m on my way to his funeral.

The ship neared port about twenty minutes later. The cityscape was becoming more discernible in the evening sky. I managed to steady myself after nearly falling over from sudden sickness. The kind of sickness that struck me though was the type that couldn’t be described medically. Reality sinks in slow, but hard as a hammer when it hits.

The first thing that I noticed was the smoke. That same colorful, magic smoke that would come out of the ships coming into Talonwater’s port. But there was much more of it in greater amounts coming from all over the city. The fact that it was colorful made it no more appealing though. Something about it was hazy and ugly. It made me feel uneasy just watching it pour into the sky. Looking up, it appeared to sort of dissipate once it got to a certain height.

But I was only scratching the surface out of a near blindness to most of the city. I saw the smoke stacks, but not the buildings beneath. The first question that came to my mind as I viewed the city as a whole was, “Where am I?”

This was not Manehattan or Equestria that I was looking at. It couldn’t be. Tall edifices rose from the ground bearing elaborate lights and signs for things I had no idea existed. The port was a flurry of activity with ships coming and going at a rate faster than I had ever seen in my life. Even the sky was busy as airships waited while being loaded with crates by pegasi and others departed to places unknown.

It was all becoming physically clearer the closer the ship neared yet so much more confusing. I found myself leaning against the railing once more. The maelstrom consuming the city was inconceivable. I had heard of this, I heard of it from the letters that I would receive from my parents every so often during my time away. I mean, I thought that they weren’t necessarily lying about things changing but at least over exaggerating considering that my father had a say in writing them. They were dead on though.

The ship began pulling up to one of the elaborate series of docks. Finally it came to a stop and ramp was put down for departure. Apprehensively, I stepped over onto the alien landscape. For a while I stood there out of something of an unwillingness to move, as if I truly had boarded the wrong ship to the wrong continent. I was in denial though. But denial kept me from falling off of another dock.

Before I did manage to muster up my movement again I got all of the sensations of the rush of movements and sounds around me. Fidgety dock workers pushed their way past one another to all the different ships yelling out incomprehensible commands to other dock workers moving large crates and barrels. The same could be heard above with pegasi moving to airships. Two young colts looked at the ship I recently departed and laughed with condescending voices at it before the dock workers shooed them off.

The sun was setting faster now. The princesses must be beginning the night cycle. I wondered how they were dealing with all of this. I quickly got over my spell and continued on into the city that I no longer recognized. I had to shove my way past several dock workers muttering quiet insults at me for being in their way. This didn’t surprise me though as I was used to this from walking the streets of Manehattan when I was younger. Not everything had changed at least.

The docks finally gave over to streets that gave me no more comfort. Now I was at the source of my confusion. Immediately I see that the streets themselves looked much different. They were wider, completely black in the middle with a large cut running down the center, and had gray portions on each ends that everyone walking followed. Nobody went in the middle.

A large box looking somewhat like a train car in the center containing other ponies gave an indication why. It came from around a building in front of me and turned towards my way. I rapidly got closer to the end of the gray walkway as it passed. I saw that it ran along the cut in the center of the road. The thing stopped at the border between the street and docks. Ponies came out of the center of it and got off before heading down into the docks area. The conductor of the one car train began moving it back past me again before disappearing off another way.

I could only look at that thing. It definitely was not a train but it also ran by itself. As it finished rounding the corner and leaving I swore I could feel the last bit of knowledge I knew of this city jumping on and going right along with it I’m sure. Some others must have seen my astonishment because the word ‘tourist’ floated around my ears for a bit.

Regardless of how things have changed, I still had an obligation to fulfill. My only problem with that though was actually finding a way out of this city maze. Anybody I’d ask would probably just look at me funny and keep walking, so I did just the same. Once I get out of the city I was positive I’d find the way to my old home easy enough.

These imperious buildings could break someone’s nerve real quick though. They just weren’t right. Back in the Griffin kingdom, just south of it actually, there was a rather thick jungle that was used by adventurous hunters. I went there once, never wanted to go back. I remembered the feeling of being there, like I was trapped with the light above being virtually blocked out. Walking through the new city with structures going up further than I’d care for and funny smoke blanketing the sky, I couldn’t help but think about it.

The moon began to come into full view past the smoke. The foreign lights became something of wonder now. They were all so much more vivid and crisp than they were before I left. Another street cart shot past in a flash of headlights. This time it was carrying supplies and crates. Manehattan was always known for its trade, but now I wondered if it did anything else. Anyone that still remained out now all looked something exhausted. Frankly, some looked downright depressed.

I forgot to mention the filth. The main streets were kept well enough, probably by the depressed looking others around me, but the alleyways and all other non-major areas could give sickness at a glance. Not only trash but all other kinds of the nastiest things occupied them. Rats, waste and other foul smelling things all conglomerated into a sickening mess. Diseases must be rampant with these kinds of conditions. Not to say that none of it was around when I was here, just not nearly as bad as this.

Other things too would rear their ugly heads in this evermore growing gilded city. Large sheets of paper would fly out of the alleys with a large picture and equally as large words on it. They were plastered on the walls too. One was a picture of a rather nice looking unicorn with the words ‘BRIGHT FOR A BRIGHTER EQUESTRIA’ below it.

This one I actually stopped to look at. Who was this upstart? Why would anyone imply such horrible things against the princesses? That they cannot maintain Equestria themselves even though only one had managed to successfully do so for a thousand years. Preposterous. I felt the need to pull the slanderous thing down. It would all be pointless though as there were literally dozens of these things around. I begrudgingly left it.

As I neared the edge of the city and towards my home, I had hoped that similar signs of what I left would return. My hopes would find no such comfort though. This strange new world of my former home only continued to masterfully bemuse me with greater precision. The only relief came with the fact that the buildings became less dense along with the smoke cloud above it. Slowly the buildings would disperse into much smaller and more scattered developments. I could actually see more green than gray for once.

The dense city’s tough grip finally fully gave way to suburbs, albeit much more developed ones since I left. Night had full command of the sky now but it was a welcomed sight to actually see it. Back in central Manehattan I could scantly see stars. Others seem to get such apprehensions when being out at night. My days of living in a small town and being out a world away from Equestria had cured me of that. Nights out in the Griffin Kingdom were something amazing to behold. I once even sent a picture to my parents and they coincidentally showed up unannounced a few weeks later.

My mind was wandering again. It started to do that more now that I wasn’t looking at something new every second. This was good, it meant that I was finally coming back to an Equestria that I recognized: natural, beautiful, and simple. Not to say that I never enjoyed the city before I left. I greatly enjoyed the occasional visit, but ultimately the life just wasn’t for me. There’s just something strange about folks who prefer to be enclosed all the time.

It was another thirty minutes before I made it to Middlehoof, my home of twenty years ago. It’s rustic, small town feel could get anyone to appreciate it no matter where they came from, be it any other small town to even Canterlot. About one strip of road and an intersection was all that really made up the actually town, the rest was farmland. There was this breeze too, a gentle and comforting breeze at any time of the year so idiosyncratic that no matter where I’ve been across the world there’s been none other like it. The old memories surfacing too were beginning to make the experience of seeing how much Manehattan has changed appear much less important for the moment.

Middlehoof has changed though, no doubt. Like some of the suburbs I had passed leaving the city, Middlehoof has grown and developed considerably since I left. Not to the point where it’s unrecognizable like Manehattan though. The most noticeable difference was the fact that it actually had a train station now with tracks going towards the city and further west. New fitted lamps lit the street all the way down. New buildings inhabited the edge of town and the older ones didn’t look as bad as I thought they would. The road was the same kind as the one in the city too, a bit more faded though with no cut in it. I had to walk straight through town to get home—a modest farm just outside of it.

“Soft Speak?”

I didn’t expect anyone to recognize me. It was already considerably late and I doubted anyone would have actually been out. The voice was familiar though. I turned to my right to see Gear Drive coming out of his shop. Gear Drive (though we all just called him Gears) was the equipment manager and practically the heartbeat of the town who kept all the farms running. Needless to say his shop had grown considerably—probably bigger than any other building in town. His age too was showing much more now. I wondered how long he could keep up with his job at this rate. He was the old one when I was growing up and now I even feel old looking at him.

“Yes?” I reply.

“Oh wow. I had heard that you were coming back but can hardly believe it. I only wish it could have been for a better reason. Speaking of which, I am truly sorry. Your father was a good pony and I could hardly believe it myself when he passed. You have my deepest condolences as a friend and business partner. He was larger than life itself and now I’m sure he’s something much more.”

This would be the first of many similar conversations to come, I just knew it. Not that I was ungrateful, I just didn’t like the fact that I was reminded that my father was dead every few minutes. I have no doubts of their sincerity though, these are all good folk.

“You don’t have to say anything Gears. I know you mean well. You’ve done right by our family for as long as I can remember, and that’s good enough.”

“If only it were so. Your father was much more than simply a patron. In fact, I must say you take up your father’s image quite well.”

There’s gears, the sophisticated mechanic. His etiquette was enough to point out that he wasn’t from around here. He moved in from Manehattan itself after getting tired of the lifestyle. He never truly shook it off though. That and he’s probably older anyone here now. The second oldest was more than likely my father. The two were the best of friends as well.

“Do you know how my mother’s taking it?”

“Not well at all, I’m afraid. A couple as close as them splitting can’t do any good for her. She lost half of herself when he died. If there were ever a time when she needed you—”

“I’ll have to go see her then,” I said, suddenly worrying. Something stopped me though. I had to ask.

“By the way, what’s going on in Equestria. What’s happened to change it so much?”

A quick gleam of some kind of emotion went across Gear’s face, one I’d barely seen before. “I take it you came through Manehattan then. Let me tell you, the very reasons why I left there in the first place are the very reasons why they want to go further, and magic is the fuel for their purpose. They will stop at nothing either. You’ll see the changes all around you. People you thought you once knew are very different now. But we all have to adapt though, which is why I was worried for your father and now you. Before all else, I’m sorry, really I am. Just remember that the further we go and the more we gain, the more we leave behind.”

He disengaged from the conversation with another apology and goodbye before walking off, leaving me with his cryptic words. He never explained who ‘they’ were or why he was worried for me, and I didn’t bother to ask. It would have been fruitless. My only concern was for my mother. I knew she wouldn’t take it well but only now was I truly considering how much this would affect her. They’re both very old now, and losing something like that is something unimaginable.

I moved more briskly down the road past the town. It took a little less than ten minutes to reach my old home. It was modest in all considerations comprising of fifty acres of wheat, a farmhouse and barn. That was just fine with me. A pond just a little ways from the house was the most extravagant thing we had. I wondered what my mother will do with the land. I couldn’t imagine her staying. My arrival was unfortunately well timed. The funeral was tomorrow and a light was still on in the house. I’m sure my mother and I would have much to discuss.

I stood in front of the house door for a few seconds looking over the rest of the farm and delaying the inevitable. My father will seem a lot deader when I start knocking.

Three knocks cleared the last of my delusions. It wasn’t long before my mother swiftly responded and came to the door. When the door opened light flooded my eyes and I had to squint to really see my mother’s face, but there was no denying the pain despite how happy she looked to see me.

Before a word was spoken she quickly hugged me and I only felt compelled to do the same. If emotions could be transferred through touch, I was receiving all of hers. There was of course the joy in seeing someone I loved long past the time where we should have been apart, but the seeping reality of sadness for its reason.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she said.

“I would never ignore a family obligation.”

“Still, it means everything to me.”

She broke the hug and went back inside, indicating for me to follow. The first room in the house was where father spent most of his time. It was a room specifically tailored for him by him. See, my father was someone of not only of smarts but creativity as well. He’d always be making these little oddities out of any variety of things from metal and wood to dirt and glass. Just about anything he found he’d make these sculptures of all kinds of abstract types. To him it was all of the parts and individual effort that made someone great and not just what could be seen, something he claims could be faked and hidden. He was real stringent on character—all of it—and this was his gallery. Everything that he made in his workshop in the barn he put on display here.

I could tell immediately his work had grown. There were many more models of things that took me a while to figure out what they were. The general organization of the room more or less stayed the same. This room was something that must have given my mother a hard time, the fact that she has to see it every day and has to do something with it eventually.

I turned away from my father’s memories before I thought too much of him as well and headed up the three stairs leading into the kitchen. I was beginning to have to wade through my own memories by this point. Very little had changed about it save for a few pieces of machinery I didn’t recognize that I’m sure mother and father argued over for quite some time. My mother was now sitting alone at the table. A weight heavier than any physical object sat on her shoulders.

I sat down next to her. For a time much longer than I thought nothing was said. Now that my eyes adjusted to the light I could finally see her properly. The age difference from when I last saw her was the most apparent feature. Her orange coat and blue mane were considerably duller. The wrinkles didn’t help her appearance much either. It had been a little less than a week since father had passed and she still had a look of confusion and contemplation that one typically has when someone knew well died. I doubted that would ever truly go away. For her case though I had no idea how to help someone so disconsolate.

“Would you like anything?” she asked. “It must have been a long trip.”

“No, but thank you.” I lied, only for her sake. “I just need to know, are you okay? That’s all I care about right now. I know how much father meant to you. I talked to Gears and he seemed especially worried.”

Much unlike what I expected, she chuckled. “Gears? That’s ironic.”

“What do you mean?”

She cleared her throat. “Nothing to worry about at the moment. But yes, it has been difficult without your father. I will have much thinking to do for a while before I decide what to do with myself.”

“What about the farm?”

“Business had gone down considerably since technology started doing it more efficiently. Over the past few weeks I was trying to convince him that his age was becoming too much of a burden and to sell the land so we could finally settle down together. You know your father though, stubborn as ever, wouldn’t give up. Worked right until the day he passed.”

“What exactly happened? The letter didn’t explain much.”

“Well, he’d been particularly fatigued one night and I didn’t pay it much mind because he’s been like that ever since he’d started aging. We went to sleep and the next morning I noticed that he hadn’t gotten out of bed yet to do his morning routines. I tried to wake him but he just wouldn’t get up. I got to the clinic fast and told them what happened and they got him to the hospital just outside of the city. He died in his sleep, doctors said his heart just stopped.”

She sighed before continuing. “Somehow I just wasn’t surprised that’s how he’d go. A stallion with the biggest heart and purest spirit can only take so much. It all just finally caught up to him I suppose. Doesn’t soften the fact that he’s gone though.”

I could see the tiny wells of tears forming in her eyes. The fact that I had no idea how to console her hurt more than anything. I don’t see how anyone could console someone with that much devotion to their spouse despite their differences. I could only repeat what Gears said and many others would eventually say. “I’m sorry.”

“No it’s okay. I know it’s tough. He could of been around so much longer if he would’ve just listened to me on some things. He just wouldn’t budge when all the innovations came about. Oh, Soft, if you’d just see what goods come out of all this you won’t end up like him. So much has happened while you were gone.”

“I came through Manehattan. I barely recognize it now.”

“I know it looks confusing and all, but you can’t let that get to you. Just look at some of the things I managed to get even with your father complaining,” she pointed at the odd machinery. “That one makes washing clothes so much easier, that one helps make my cooking almost perfect every time, that one helps with the cleaning. It all looks funny now but please, you have to realize this is the future. it’s starting to change faster and you gotta move with it, that’s something your father never understood.”

I noticed the desperation in her voice. I could understand why but I was still unsure about everything that’s happened. “Not only does everything look different but the everyone else is different too.”

“Yes,” she said with slight resignation, “others change too, but your father couldn’t. If only he’d budged a little… But he was a victim too. A stubborn victim, but a victim nonetheless.”

“What do you mean?”

She managed smiled past her now receding tears. “Your father was just too damn honest.”

———

At seven-thirty early next morning I woke up in the room that had once been mine. Much like the rest of the house and farm, it was quite humble. Also much like my father’s gallery, it held many memories in both physical and mental forms—much of which were good, but not all. This will most likely be my final memory of home, rendering all others to ruin with such a bad note. The same must have been true for mother too as she slept in the guest room ever since father died, unable to deal with the heaviest memory placed upon her old room and most likely the whole house.

It was a quiet breakfast. Both of us ate very little in silence, mired in our own thoughts. We discussed everything needed about father last night. All that was left was for us to give our final goodbye and return him to the earth which had given us so much throughout our lives. Then I had to make an even harder decision on where to go after it all. I still felt an obligation to mother but something about being in Equestria now just didn’t feel right.

Normally I wouldn’t consider myself one for dress, but this was an event that most definitely called for something at least decent. A simple black suit and gray tie portrayed grievance enough to me. Mother wore a black dress but her state and appearance would have been enough to convey her unfathomable loss.

We moved together towards the Middlehoof Cemetery unanimously but silently. We did not stick out though, everyone else was similarly dressed and going towards the same place. Death in a small town like this shook everyone because we all knew each other as close to family as our own blood.

The town itself was unusually silent. Practically all activities would cease for the day to mourn the deceased. This is how it was when I attended funerals at a younger age. Today’s was no different.

Funerals here were typically short but affected everyone greatly. Everyone would gather and family members would say a few words to remember the deceased before burying them. I never understood the point of speaking for someone whose reputation spoke for itself when I was younger, but now I think I do. Perhaps it’s a vain attempt to momentarily bring the dead back to life, to have them speak what they wanted to through someone else as a last speech they never got the chance to give. Maybe it’s another way of denying ourselves reality, which makes it so much easier to come to terms with, to think that they’re not actually gone when spoken of as if they were about to be given an award. Whatever the reason, most likely not everyone shares the same one. I haven’t even decided which one to believe myself yet.

The cemetery itself was at the far end of the town opposite of the way to the farm. We were one of the first few to congregate around the casket which had been set up by the funeral home not too far out of town. It was open, and for the last time I would see my father. Like me, he too had a brown coat which was dulled like mother’s. The only difference was that he had a white mane. I recall when I was at other funerals how some would mention how peaceful the dead look. Not father though. He was never truly at peace, even in death.

It took only a few seconds before it all finally came crashing down. To actually see my father and know with no uncertainty that he was dead brought gravity’s full force upon my feeble, ignorant barriers. I found myself rapt in too many emotions at once, guilt for not seeing him in more than a decade, the pain of knowing that I’ll never see his honest face again or finish any potentially unsaid conversations, and loss of someone who knew me when I needed it most in this new country. I was never one to give into overt drama or emotion, but I finally found my warrant despite never wanting to. All mother and I could do was hold each other while we mourned what we lost but appreciated what we had.

Within the next twenty minutes the rest of the town had gathered. We both got the full barrage of apologies for our loss and best wishes that I dreaded from everyone. It was time to begin though. I was to speak first and then my mother. She must have thought long about what she would say. I sure have, but I doubt I’ll say what I practiced perfectly being this emotionally clouded. But I would do my best as the dead’s final words will be a summation of what they’re remembered for. I owe at least that much to my father for all he’s given me.

I went and stood next to the casket, inhaling deeply as I prepared to give my final words. “My father was someone who I’ve always looked up to. Every moment was something to be cherished, good or bad. Regardless of how the times were, he was still there. I only wish I had considered while I was away that he might not always be here. He was always someone who would never go against his word and was always willing to help. He saw character at a depth greater than I ever could imagine and that shows through his work, never judging despite what he may believe. My only hope is that this will not be the end of his journey. We all wonder what mystery is held after we are no more but we will only find out when the time comes, and hopefully my father has achieved something more in death, as we all hope for our passed loved ones—and ourselves.”

It took much effort to not break up while speaking. There’s really no way to make one’s self feel better other than hoping that death holds more than nothingness. Speculative as it may be, it helps me accept his death just that much more. I returned to the crowd as my mother moved to where I previously stood and prepared for her own part.

After a last glance at her husband, she began to speak. “No amount of words will be able to justify how great my husband was. Everyone in this town who has known him for many years know this. His actions will tell more than I ever could. Anyone who has ever known him will describe him as the most honest pony they knew and know with no doubts how good and incorruptible he was. In such times that change both our external and internal lives, he remained above it all. Whether this was for better or worst in the end for him, I do not and probably will not ever know.”

She was fighting back tears again. She started to have this look, one she only made when I was young and did something wrong and I knew it. Quite frankly it terrified me to think what she was about to say. “But the one thing that I do know,” her voice was both rising and straining, “the one thing I do know is that the only place for such a just and noble soul like his is in the ground, away from all of the pettiness and injustice that he could no longer take. The only thing I’m glad for is that he died with a pure heart so he can finally rest properly.”

Everyone, even I, watched with shock as she marched straight off in a fit of tears away from it all even before my father was buried. Never before had I heard my mother so bitter over what I thought were the changes around here. I would have gone after her, but I would have been no help. I did not understand and did not even attempt to understand the extent of what she was feeling. Only two previous decades of being here would have done that. Maybe not even at that.

Still, it made the actual burial no easier. Father would be slowly brought down into the earth and covered for the rest of time. This was our final goodbye though, so it would not be so bad knowing we got to share his memory one last time. We can only hold onto the dead for as long as we believe that they are still alive.

The crowd began to slowly disperse, somewhat dismayed at my mother’s outburst. I too managed to pull myself away from the second wave of good wishes and worry over my mother and begin my way back home to hopefully find her again. I didn’t even make it out of the cemetery though before one griever in particular caught my attention.

I turned around to an even more familiar voice. It was Snow Drift, a very old friend, one that I’d not seen since I left. He was someone that I had known since I was growing up—a time rapidly turning into fantasy now. He was the local weather pegasus and had much to do with our family concerning crops. He was also most certainly much older now; all I ever seemed to notice was how old things were becoming. His gray coat or blue mane did not fade as my mother’s or father’s did though. Gray was a hard color to fade though. I enjoyed the fact that there was actually someone else I could relate to though.

“Wow,” I said first, “it’s been some time hasn’t it?”

“That it has. If only for a better reason. How have you been despite it all?”

“Well for the most part. Listen, I’d love to catch up and I promise we will but first I have to go find my mother after what happened to see if she’s alright.”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What do you mean?” I stopped all thoughts of getting out of there quickly.

“See, she might not have been so open about it but I know why she got all upset like that. It’s been a long time like you said and everyone’s changed. You might not be up to date on everything that’s happened to everyone. You’ve gotta know now that not everyone is the same as they used to be.”

“Interesting, Gears told me much the same.”

“You talked to Gears?” He sounded a lot more distraught.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Oh man. Okay, um, what you may not know about Gears in particular is that he’s definitely not been the same since all the industrialization stuff started happening. Ever since the trains have been coming through and big farm companies have been moving in down south of here he’s changed quite a lot. All he started caring about was money, like the scent of it was just too much to pass up. He started selling big to all those with money coming in and began doing some really shady business like asking me to give more attention to the ones with money. He started neglecting everyone else who couldn’t afford his stuff anymore. Your father was among them. They had a real bad falling out. Your farm also started losing out as well.”

There was another moment, one of the reality hitters that just makes me do nothing but hope it’s not real. I was beginning to wonder if that was becoming the norm. My friend was never the lying type though. I also was starting to think all of Gear’s apologies were for more than just my father passing as well.

“That’s just so unlike him though…”

He went on hesitantly. “I know, I don’t get it either. I’m sorry I, I thought you knew about all of that. But you looked so surprised when your mom started going off and I just wondered—”

“No I shouldn’t have expected anything less with how strange everything else around me is now. Thank you, for a little more perspective. But, was what she said true? Was my father really as pure and honest as she claimed him to be?”

“Never seen him lie or cheat till the day he passed.”

“That’s reassuring to know there was still someone I could trust. You too.”

“I really didn’t mean to give that kind of news after just seeing you in so long and losing your dad, I really didn’t.”

“It’s better that I knew rather than stayed ignorant of my surroundings. Thank you again. I promise we can catch up later but now I really need to talk to my mother. I hope you understand.”

“It’s fine, really. Do what you need to.”

He flew off in a hurry, understandably. I could only wonder why Gears had essentially lied to me about not wanting to be like the people he fled from. Just another piece of a now growing puzzle that apparently formed as I was gone and wanting me to solve it.

Before I left I turned back to my father’s grave one last time. Something about it struck me differently though. I felt like I lost a whole lot more than just an honest father in this strange place.