[i]This is most peculiar.[/i] Moondancer examined the shop entrance. Halfway between small and minuscule, the facade created a cozy, yet exotic, sensation, almost as if the owner had plucked a childhood memory out of Moondancer’s mind and added some decorations from the Far East. Fine caramel paint covered the walls, making the bright red door frame and paper lanterns stand out. Yet, the most “peculiar” thing about the shop was its sign. Four paces in height, and one in length, a meticulously white canopy floated down from the shop’s roof proudly displaying a message in fiery-red symbols. Moondancer had no idea what the symbols meant, or the language they belonged to, but could confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt they were the reason she felt so inclined to step inside. [i]What‘s in there?[/i] the mare wondered. Curiously, she approached the entrance and peeked inside. A faint smell of species mixed with book-dust tickled her nostrils. [i]Maybe it’s one of those coffee-libraries,[/i] Moondancer mused. They had become quite popular in recent years, thanks in part to the publication of Princess Twilight’s memoirs. Every neighborhood in Canterlot had at least one place where bibliophiles could enjoy a book in comfort. The dark interior of the shop, however, combined with the complete lack of customers suggested that might not be the case. [i]I guess there’s only one way to find out.[/i] Moondancer took a deep breath and stepped inside. Her eyes took a few moments to adjust to the dim light. Despite the widely open door, the room lacked any windows, lit entirely by a few candlelit lamps. Wooden shelves filled the small space, covered with objects large and small. Books, toys, trinkets, the shop seemed to have it all, including an extremely intricate example of oriental ceremonial attire. Moondancer had seen references in books, but this was the first time she stood in front of one. “Ah, the ceremonial dress of princess Jinse Ma,” a deep voice said a step from Moondancer. “You have a good eye.” The only reason that Moondancer didn’t scream was because she was far too startled too. A rush of adrenaline flooded her veins, making her heart beat like a train locomotive trying to make up for lost time. “A thousand apologies, treasured customer.” A face appeared behind what seemed to be the shop’s counter. “I did not mean to startle. I was merely overjoyed that one of such refined taste had graced my humble shop. Please, please, continue. Pretend that this humble shopkeeper isn’t even here.” “Th-thank you.” Moondancer blushed. [i]That was embarrassing[/i] She reached for the dress, feeling the fabric with her hoof. “Umm, is this an antique shop?” “Oh, my!” The shopkeeper chuckled. “You’ll have to forgive this forgetful shopkeeper,” he said as he lit a small oil lamp. “Seeing such a fine mare has made me completely forget my manners.” He cleared his throat. “Welcome to the End of all Things, where you could find find what your heart desires. I am Uncle Wing, the humble owner of this shop, who shall guide you through any questions you might have.” “Moondancer.” The mare relaxed. [i]A bit over the top, but still very nice. I wish more shops could be like this.[/i] “So it is an antique shop?” “Dear child, this is no antique shop.” The shopkeeper chuckled once more. “Here, at the End of all Things, you won’t find trinkets of the past that have been tarnished by time. No, no, no, here you’ll find nothing but the pinnacle of perfection of eras past, present, and future!” [i]O-okay, now you lost me.[/i] Moondancer blinked. The sales pitch had started quite well, but Uncle Wing definitely needed to work on his closers. In this case a simple “yes” would have worked just fine. “I see you are confused,” the shopkeeper noted with a smile. [i]Not really,[/i] Moondancer thought, but nodded nonetheless. The atmosphere of the shop compelled her to be courteous. “Take the dress of princess Jinse Ma.” The shopkeeper pointed. “Is it not the pinnacle of elegance? It took thousands of years for the skills of dedication and learning for the artisans to create it. The design needed hundreds of instances to perfect. The silk that the inner veil was made of had been produced over the course of decades by silk-spiders exclusively raised on starberries.” “So it is the best dress there was?” Moondancer’s ears perked up. The claim was bold to say the least, but looking at the outfit she couldn’t help but agree. [i]I wonder what the full history of that dress is. It will probably fill an entire library section, at least![/i] “Not only that was.” The shopkeeper’s smile widened. “What you see is the best dress that was, is, and will be. That there is the end of the dress, the end of [i]all[/i] dresses, an achievement that none other will surpass until the end of time!” “I thought beauty and fashion were subjective.” Moondancer arched a brow. “Yes, yes, of course, but that is the best of that type of dress. If you want the best of some [i]other[/i] type of dress, I’ll gladly assist you in finding it. Just yesterday I received this one of a kind business dress, ideal for work, parties, [i]and[/i] press interviews.” “Oh,” Moondancer sighed. [i]Flea-market.[/i] She stepped away from the ceremonial dress. [i]What an anticlimax.[/i] “Please, I’m telling you the truth!” Uncle Wing rushed from behind the counter. “Everything in this shop really is the best, in every literal and non-hyperbolic sense of the world!” “Of course, it is.” [i]Now you’re just trying too hard.[/i] “Think of something you know is the best!” The shopkeeper insisted. “A toy, piece of jewelry, anything at all.” “Very well.” [i]I’ll humour you, but only because I enjoyed the story of the dress. Hmm, I wonder if I should buy it. It is rather breathtaking, even if I’ll hardly ever wear it...[/i] “Do you have the best book?” “Oh.” The shopkeeper’s smile vanished, replaced by a drab expression. “Books...” “What’s wrong with books?” Moondancer frowned. “Here are thousands of wonderful books! Books better our everyday lives! The whole reason that we are where we are is because of the knowledge stored in books! Without them we’ll be back in the dark ages, or worse!” “Forgive me, valued customer. What you say is true. There are [i]thousands[/i] of books. Who is to say which one of them is the best? I showed you one dress, yet even it is not the best in [i]all[/i] circumstances.” “So you’re telling me you can’t.” Moondancer narrowed her eyes. [i]I expected as much.[/i] “What I’m trying to say is that I humbly ask that you be a bit more specific?” The shopkeeper flashed a large smile. “The best work by A.K. Yearling, perhaps? There are many theories as to which of her Daring Do volumes that might be. The truth might surprise—“ “Shakemare’s sonnets,” Moondancer cut Wing short. It was hardly a polite thing to do, but the novelty of the place had quickly worn off, and with it her patience. “Do you have the best of Shakemare’s sonnets?” “Shakemare,” The shopkeeper repeated the name slowly, stressing on every syllable. “Not a request I’ve often heard. Please, browse the store while this humble shopkeeper goes to find that which you ask.” Moondancer watched him trot to the back of the shop and disappear behind a small door. No doubt he was going to go through his junk and return with a second edition of [i]Shakemare’s Complete Sonnets[/i]. All Shakemare fans would unanimously agree that the specific tome was a must have for any collector. It wasn’t particularly rare, and by no means the best, yet available enough for everypony with enough bits to find one. If Wing actually came out with a first edition, that would be an entirely different matter. There were less than a thousand copies printed, most of which filled libraries and private collections. [i]What am I thinking?[/i] The mare shook her head. [i]There’s no way we could have a first edition.[/i] For all she knew he might have gone to find an excuse for his failure. While the unicorn was thinking, her hoof inadvertently moved to the ceremonial dress. The silk veil [i]did[/i] feel incredibly smooth, far smoother than anything Moondancer had felt in her life. Then again, that could hardly be seen as a surprise; the vast majority of her wardrobe was composed of thick sweaters. “Thank you for your patience, treasured customer!” The shopkeeper suddenly appeared, giving Moondancer another startle. “Your most humble servant has finally found what you ask.” He held a leather scroll case. “Behold, the pinnacle of Shakemare’s sonnets!” [i]Enough with the sales pitch, already.[/i] Moondancer sighed. The shopkeeper’s behaviour no longer amused her. Still, he had gone through some trouble to provide her with something, so the least she could do was take a look. Levitating the scroll closer towards her, she opened it. As expected, there was a scroll inside. Less expected, the scroll held one of Shakemare’s sonnets written in Middle Equish. Moondancer read thought the first stanza. The penmanship was as masterful as the prose, executing every stroke with such perfection as if it were attempting to draw a painting using letters alone. “This is an original!” Moondancer looked up in shock. “A perfectly preserved scroll of Shakemare’s [i]Two Ponies Under the Stars[/i]! Have you any idea how extraordinarily rare this is!” She focused back on the scroll. “This is the final sonnet of Shakemare’s autumn series! Critics consider it her crowning achievement, going as far as to claim that it was—“ Moondancer froze. She levitated the scroll away. The shopkeeper was still there, smiling positively, a new air of mystery surrounding him. “Going as far as to claim that it was the end of her career,” The mare finished her sentence. “Haycart even suggested that Shakemare was never able to produce anything of equal quality since.” “I am but a humble shopkeeper, I know little in matters of literature.” The shopkeeper shrugged. “I do know that that’s the pinnacle of Shakemare’s work, and I my shop holds all pinnacles that have or will exist.” He beamed. “Unless special terms and conditions apply,” he added in rushed fashion. “So this shop, really holds the end of all things?” Moondancer returned the scroll to its case. “In a manner of speaking.” The shopkeeper shifted from leg to leg. “The name is not a direct hundred percent representation of the contents of the shop... but for most purposes, yes. Here you find the end of all things, the physical representation of notions that have reached their peak and cannot be surpassed now or ever.” Wing took the scroll case and placed it on one of the shelves. “I also accept all major forms of currency. Except gems.” “But...” Moondancer felt her mouth had become dry. “Doesn’t it affect you?” It was the shopkeeper’s turn to arch a brow. “I mean you have surrounded yourself with the end of everything. How can you live like this? You will never experience anything better than what you already have. Isn’t that...” She swallowed. “Isn’t that depressing?” [i]If you already know the end what’s the point?[/i] The mystery of the shop had suddenly vanished, draining all the joy from Moondancer along with it. If she was to accept that the shop held the crowning achievement of everything conceived, what would be the point in trying to achieve anything? “My valued, gentle customer,” the shopkeeper began softly. “I can tell you have a large heart. It is difficult to understand the [i]End of all Things[/i]. Many have tried, many are yet to try, even I am trying and I’ve owned the shop for many years.” He laughed at the punchline. Moondancer could only cringe. “But don’t worry. Uncle Wing will let you in on a little secret,” he whispered moving closer. “The answer is variety. I showed you Shakemare’s crowning achievement, but have you seen somepony else’s best sonnet?” He winked. Moondancer’s eyes grew wide. Of course! The end of [i]all[/i] things! Even if every category of concept had a columniation point, with enough specificity there was a near infinite number of categories! There was no way to experience them all! She might have seen the end of Shakemare’s sonnets, but not her comedies, or her tragedies, or any of the other aspects of her work! “I see you understand,” The shopkeeper said in a deep soothing voice. “Now, about Princess Jinse Ma‘s ceremonial dress... Do you want me to wrap it for you? Or will you put it on right away?”