The Mannequin Stallion

Of all the things in existence, there may be nothing worse than a soul far too curious for its own good. There are many things in the world that Ponies are not well equipped to handle; many half-truths and stories that they must hide behind because they don’t understand things. Not quite, at least.

One of these things is the true nature of the universe. Most ponies would never be able to comprehend that it is truly infinite; they just do not comprehend such a term. They cannot fathom something that extends forever in every direction, they imagine a barrier, an end, but there is none. Of course, this also extends in the concept of causality itself.

A major mistake that countless ponies have made is in the belief of time. Time is a fallacy, it does not exist. Time is just a system of measurement made by ponies to cut their lives into manageable pieces. A minute does not exist anymore than a metre, it’s just a measurement. In and of itself, the universe is infinite in Causality; without beginning or end the universe stretches “forwards’ and “backwards” through Causality.

The third truth of the universe is one that puzzles even the greatest of minds. The fabric of reality. Reality does exist, but it is two dimensional, yet also exists on just one, and all three at once (the fourth being Causality, which binds it all together) and as such does not exist in the same frame as the pony on the street. In fact, reality can be best described as a three dimensional illusion upon a two dimensional plane of existence, which can get really bizarre when you consider how the average purple unicorn might interact with it simply by being.

In and of these things, you might think that it is best for ponies to understand that there are limits; great mysteries that they will never understand. But much as the two dimensional square cannot fathom the three dimensional sphere, can ponies not grasp what lies in the space between, behind and in front, and yet to the side of reality. And you may think it wise that ponies do not stray beyond such limited understanding; that knowledge is an ocean, and that mortal ponies should not swim out too far.

Of course, there are many that do not listen.

Twilight Sparkle is one of them. Nothing more than a simple mare, this pony does not quite understand the higher matter of things, concerned entirely with the magic of friendship, a simple concept of emotional resonance that reflects upon the magic that a pony might use. Twilight considers herself an expert of this subject, not realising that there are those who are so far beyond her that they understand it completely as an instinctual matter, complete in their being.

Never the less, Twilight is in her basement, trying to grasp the fundaments of what is, and what is not in the realm that she calls home when her assistant, Spike, who has a soul pure and free of hate and cruelty comes in to see her, and what she is doing.

“Twilight” he said, “I have got to ask, what’s the point of all this?”

Twilight looked up from the board covered in mathematical theorems and snorts, “I’m trying to understand the night sky,” she said, “It is finite, and as such we must be alone in the sky, only this planet exists, and none else. So I want to know what the sky is made of.”

“Uh, Twilight,” said Spike, “We know what it is, it’s just emptiness and dots of magical light.”

“Of course it is,” Twilight said, “but I want to know what it is made of! The... canvas of the sky, I suppose. It’s not that hard to understand!”

“Fine,” said Spike, “but if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go up and have a nap. Try not to stay up too late; we all know how that ends.”

Twilight waved a hoof at Spike, and turned back to her chalk board, levitating a stick of chalk as the squinted at the markings in front of her.

It was later that night when Twilight started screaming.

Of course, everything has its cause, a beginning. For Twilight, it was when she decided to try to cast a spell to see beyond that which she could see. Past the illusion of reality and into the deeper mechanics of what is, was, and will be.

Such spells were complex in nature, often requiring a focusing circle of some sort, and a reflective surface upon which to cast the spell. For such a need, Twilight supposed that the mercury backed mirror she owned would serve such a purpose.

The next part was a Faraday cage, of sorts, a shell of magic to ground out any harmful repercussions, and earth it. Such a barrier would send any surges or overpowering phenomena deep underground where it could do no harm. The cage was a simple circle of chalk upon a stone slate, magic pumped into the ground chalk until it hummed with quiet energy; a string kept taught, and humming under each minor shift of the earth.

And so, Twilight cast her spell at the mirror.

The purpose of such a spell was to turn the mirror into an Omniscope, a device that saw all, and could display anything that it was attuned to. Of course, the problem was attuning it properly, and such a task took Twilight much time to complete. When she was finished with her subtle magic, the moon was high overhead.

Twilight breathed deeply, certain that her task was complete. She felt as if the truth lay before her, and all she had to do was open her eyes to perceive all. She felt it within, a hungry yearning to understand, to know, to see all that the universe had to offer, and write down her orderly observations in her neat, spidery writing.

Do not open your eyes.

Twilight jumped.

Open your eyes, and you shall surely wish you would die.

“Who are you?” Twilight whispered.

What am I? I am. By all that is, I am. Infinite. Beautiful. Terrible. You are not to see this.

“But I must,” Twilight said, “I must see.”

Then by your own hubris, you bring upon yourself suffering and pain.

And Twilight opened her eyes.

She saw.

And she screamed.

She screamed as her eyes heated and boiled in her sockets, the thin membrane keeping the jelly within splitting as the soft mucus reached boiling point. Her eyes filled with blood, the red stain spreading over white, the bubbling jelly shifting in a mad dance. Her eyes spat and hissed, boiling fluid mixed with red arcing across the room, and then Twilight’s eyes split open, and ran down her face.

As it ran down, it scalded and burned, leaving angry red welts to boil upon the floor, Twilight howling in her agony all the while. The burns left horrid marks across her skin, fur being turned into black wisps by the heat, and the flesh of her sockets were red and glowing still.

No more than a few moments had passed.

The door slammed open, and Spike ran down the stairs. He gasped as Twilight fell, her legs failing her as her mind was overwhelmed by pain, and she landed face down in what was left of the lavender eyes that had once graced the world.

She screamed again as the boiling fluid touched her.

Spike was at her side at an instant, rolling her off the stone and onto the wooden floor of the basement. The young reptile gasped at the horror and ruin of Twilight’s face, and it was all he could do not to empty his stomach upon the floor.

It was Spike, in the end, which saved her. Despite his growing horror at the sight of Twilight’s ruined face, he knows that if he did not act, his friend would most surely die; and so Spike ran, despite Twilight’s pleads for him to stay, despite the tears in his eyes, despite the twisting in his gut at leaving Twilight upon the wooden floor, blind and begging for someone, anyone, to help her.

***