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Same As It Ever Was
The old mare plodded slowly up the hill, the pain in her chest doing her no favors as she inhaled the morning chill. The frost-laden grasses of late autumn lent a strange texture to every hoofstep; crackling, yet pliant. As she neared the top, she paused, catching her breath. A smile barely ticked across the corners of her mouth as she watched her breath glimmer in the first rays of dawnlight.
"Eeyup," she said, to no pony in particular. "Reckon it's a great day to be alive." She'd always loved the first days of frost.
As she reached the top of the small down, she sat, the respite more than worth the brief chill to her yellow backside. The Acres would be in full swing any moment now, as the family raced to harvest the last of the season's apples before the frosts became worse.
Moments later, a buzz sounded from one of the small "hives" not too far away. It quickly grew louder, and was joined by similar noises from the rest of the small shelters as well. Then, almost too quick to see—unless a pony knew what she was looking for—hundreds of little machines swooped out from their overnight charging stations and went to work.
The old mare watched, and sighed, as the small robots flew through the trees and started plucking apples with a dexterity and finesse no mere bucking could match. So much had changed over the years, but she'd always felt she, herself, was one step ahead of it. Now though, looking back at Sweet Apple Acres, she sometimes wondered.
Or was it wandered...?
No, definitely wondered.
She was mostly sure.
Yes, "wondered."
"Granny?" A young, vibrant voice that rang like a concerto called out. "Granny... What are you doing out here again?"
It was... what's-her-name, the old mare thought. The young 'un by way of Skystar and her own cousin somethin' or other. Half hippogriff, half Apple...
Think! she demanded of herself.
But it did no good.
"Hi, Granny," said the newcomer. "It's me, Starburst."
Damn, the chemo had been doing a number on her mind lately. "Consarn it, I remember who ya are!" she lied.
Starburst nodded perfunctorily. "Then, you also remember the farm nearly runs itself these days. You ain't got to come up here and 'supervise' or whatever."
"Tarnation, child!" she said. "You don't think I know that? I invented the first three generations of those apple pickin' drones!"
"Then you know they can work without you watchin', right?" Starburst said.
The old mare rolled her eyes. "That ain't why I'm up here."
"Then why?"
"I just..." Apple Bloom paused, unsure in her own reasons.
"We worry about you, Granny. You come out here every morning, but the doctors say—"
"Buck the doctors!"
Starburst sighed, she'd done this before. "Do you want me to call Aunt Gabby?"
Her one weakness. "Aunt" Gabby. The griffon she'd fallen in love with. Married.
Married.
Married!
The thought still brought shivers to her spine... And other places. Some crazy combination of lust and love, of guilt and shame. Not that her family and friends ever saw anything wrong with it; species or gender. Far from it. They'd celebrated and cheered!
But she'd never had foals. She'd never continued the Apple family line. She'd been "Auntie Bloom" in later years, and "Granny" only after AJ had passed. She'd been thinking of—
"Granny?" Starburst leaned in and offered a hoof. "Want to come back to bed now?"
Apple Bloom looked up. She'd lost time again. The sun was at least an hour into the sky. Below her dozens of ponies, hippogriffs, changelings, dragons, yaks—and every other kind of family she knew—were moving through the fields of Sweet Apple Acres, helping bring in the harvest, assisted by the picking drones she and Gabby had created.
"Granny Apple Bloom!" Starburst was speaking loudly into her face. "Do. You. Want. To. Go. Home?"
Apple Bloom stood, cursing the pain in her chest as she did so. She shook her head, trying to clear the haze the chemo seemed to have draped upon her life. "What do you see?" she said, gesturing to the orchards below.
"It's... Sweet Apple Acres." Starburst said, not quite groking the question, but letting the old matriarch have her way.
"Same as it ever was?" Apple Bloom said, standing to let herself be led downhill.
"Yes, Granny." Starburst said, smiling for no reason in particular. "Same as it ever was!"
"Eeyup," she said, to no pony in particular. "Reckon it's a great day to be alive." She'd always loved the first days of frost.
As she reached the top of the small down, she sat, the respite more than worth the brief chill to her yellow backside. The Acres would be in full swing any moment now, as the family raced to harvest the last of the season's apples before the frosts became worse.
Moments later, a buzz sounded from one of the small "hives" not too far away. It quickly grew louder, and was joined by similar noises from the rest of the small shelters as well. Then, almost too quick to see—unless a pony knew what she was looking for—hundreds of little machines swooped out from their overnight charging stations and went to work.
The old mare watched, and sighed, as the small robots flew through the trees and started plucking apples with a dexterity and finesse no mere bucking could match. So much had changed over the years, but she'd always felt she, herself, was one step ahead of it. Now though, looking back at Sweet Apple Acres, she sometimes wondered.
Or was it wandered...?
No, definitely wondered.
She was mostly sure.
Yes, "wondered."
"Granny?" A young, vibrant voice that rang like a concerto called out. "Granny... What are you doing out here again?"
It was... what's-her-name, the old mare thought. The young 'un by way of Skystar and her own cousin somethin' or other. Half hippogriff, half Apple...
Think! she demanded of herself.
But it did no good.
"Hi, Granny," said the newcomer. "It's me, Starburst."
Damn, the chemo had been doing a number on her mind lately. "Consarn it, I remember who ya are!" she lied.
Starburst nodded perfunctorily. "Then, you also remember the farm nearly runs itself these days. You ain't got to come up here and 'supervise' or whatever."
"Tarnation, child!" she said. "You don't think I know that? I invented the first three generations of those apple pickin' drones!"
"Then you know they can work without you watchin', right?" Starburst said.
The old mare rolled her eyes. "That ain't why I'm up here."
"Then why?"
"I just..." Apple Bloom paused, unsure in her own reasons.
"We worry about you, Granny. You come out here every morning, but the doctors say—"
"Buck the doctors!"
Starburst sighed, she'd done this before. "Do you want me to call Aunt Gabby?"
Her one weakness. "Aunt" Gabby. The griffon she'd fallen in love with. Married.
Married.
Married!
The thought still brought shivers to her spine... And other places. Some crazy combination of lust and love, of guilt and shame. Not that her family and friends ever saw anything wrong with it; species or gender. Far from it. They'd celebrated and cheered!
But she'd never had foals. She'd never continued the Apple family line. She'd been "Auntie Bloom" in later years, and "Granny" only after AJ had passed. She'd been thinking of—
"Granny?" Starburst leaned in and offered a hoof. "Want to come back to bed now?"
Apple Bloom looked up. She'd lost time again. The sun was at least an hour into the sky. Below her dozens of ponies, hippogriffs, changelings, dragons, yaks—and every other kind of family she knew—were moving through the fields of Sweet Apple Acres, helping bring in the harvest, assisted by the picking drones she and Gabby had created.
"Granny Apple Bloom!" Starburst was speaking loudly into her face. "Do. You. Want. To. Go. Home?"
Apple Bloom stood, cursing the pain in her chest as she did so. She shook her head, trying to clear the haze the chemo seemed to have draped upon her life. "What do you see?" she said, gesturing to the orchards below.
"It's... Sweet Apple Acres." Starburst said, not quite groking the question, but letting the old matriarch have her way.
"Same as it ever was?" Apple Bloom said, standing to let herself be led downhill.
"Yes, Granny." Starburst said, smiling for no reason in particular. "Same as it ever was!"
This story feels scattered. Maybe that’s intentional – showing that Apple Bloom’s mind isn’t quite still all the way there, and just kind of wanders off at random – but it also kind of just makes it feel a bit generic. Hey, it’s the future, and we have machines, and everyone is living in harmony! Sunshine and rainbows!
I’m not sure if there’s a strong point here beyond that one. If that is the point, then it is a bit generic, and it lacks much of a sense of impact – if you want to do something with it, make it stronger. Reinforce the idea more powerfully. Give us an actual reason to care. There’s no strong sense of conflict here, no struggle, nothing to push against. It just kind of happens.
I’m not sure if there’s a strong point here beyond that one. If that is the point, then it is a bit generic, and it lacks much of a sense of impact – if you want to do something with it, make it stronger. Reinforce the idea more powerfully. Give us an actual reason to care. There’s no strong sense of conflict here, no struggle, nothing to push against. It just kind of happens.
There's a lot of unnecessary stuff in here, and the tone goes all over the place. The word crafting is rather nice, so I know you're a capable writer, but what you've got is very unfocused.
We start out with a seemingly omniscient narrator, but it quickly takes on Apple Bloom's personality. There are certainly stories that make that transition, but you do it fairly abruptly and go to a very deep perspective immediately. We also start out having this be about Apple Bloom succumbing to old age and disease, but then it's about automation taking over everything, but then it's not, because it was Apple Bloom who came up with the automation, but it doesn't cover everything, since she still needs live workers to supplement them, and then it's about all races feeling included, plus some shipping thrown in there that at least fits that last theme but is at best tangential to the plot, and after all that, I'm feeling exhausted.
You're trying to do too much, and you end up only being able to handle each of those points in a very superficial manner. What does it matter that she has these drones? What does it matter that all these races are living together peacefully? In high concept, we have some answers to those, but not on a personal level, and that's where we need to connect: with the characters themselves, not some broad sense that everyone gets along together.
I found this to be rather good writing that was turned loose without a target.
We start out with a seemingly omniscient narrator, but it quickly takes on Apple Bloom's personality. There are certainly stories that make that transition, but you do it fairly abruptly and go to a very deep perspective immediately. We also start out having this be about Apple Bloom succumbing to old age and disease, but then it's about automation taking over everything, but then it's not, because it was Apple Bloom who came up with the automation, but it doesn't cover everything, since she still needs live workers to supplement them, and then it's about all races feeling included, plus some shipping thrown in there that at least fits that last theme but is at best tangential to the plot, and after all that, I'm feeling exhausted.
You're trying to do too much, and you end up only being able to handle each of those points in a very superficial manner. What does it matter that she has these drones? What does it matter that all these races are living together peacefully? In high concept, we have some answers to those, but not on a personal level, and that's where we need to connect: with the characters themselves, not some broad sense that everyone gets along together.
I found this to be rather good writing that was turned loose without a target.
This has some well written visualizations at the start, but it kind of gets incoherent in the middle, as >>TitaniumDragon
points out. That kind of works later, as "Granny" is literally having memory problems and gets distracted by a single word and its spelling. But while having a story's structure match its content can be intriguing (and I'm sure there's a big word for that somewhere), it's a bit confusing here, intentional or not. I also think there's some potentially strong symbolism in connecting the farm automation/modernization with the "obsoletion" of AB herself that's hinted at here, but doesn't really come across like it should. Basically, like with most minific stories, too much is crammed into too little space.
That said, by the end, I still feel a decent emotional connection with this story: An elderly Apple Bloom, facing death, wonders whether she's really made the best choices in her life, whether she's lived up to the family legacy and done right by the farm, but ultimately, it's too late for her to change anything, and she's simply led off to bed. A bit trite and cliche, but with some polish, could be made a lot stronger.
points out. That kind of works later, as "Granny" is literally having memory problems and gets distracted by a single word and its spelling. But while having a story's structure match its content can be intriguing (and I'm sure there's a big word for that somewhere), it's a bit confusing here, intentional or not. I also think there's some potentially strong symbolism in connecting the farm automation/modernization with the "obsoletion" of AB herself that's hinted at here, but doesn't really come across like it should. Basically, like with most minific stories, too much is crammed into too little space.
That said, by the end, I still feel a decent emotional connection with this story: An elderly Apple Bloom, facing death, wonders whether she's really made the best choices in her life, whether she's lived up to the family legacy and done right by the farm, but ultimately, it's too late for her to change anything, and she's simply led off to bed. A bit trite and cliche, but with some polish, could be made a lot stronger.
>>TitaniumDragon
>>Pascoite
So this was meant to a rather direct parallel between the farm and AB's personal life.
Automation was a new, non traditional direction for the farm.
AB chose a non traditional mate in Gabby.
The drones buzz around in all directions.
AB's thoughts are confused (by the chemo) and going in all directions.
AB wonders if she let the farm down by automating things.
AB wonders if she let the family down by not having kids.
And so on.
Ultimately, the message was meant to be that there is no right answer. If I'd been more direct with the title, it maybe should've been "the more things change, the more they stay the same." But I like the line from The Talking Heads more. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IsSpAOD6K8
So, the drones are everywhere, but there are still ponies/others putting in old fashioned sweat
AB didn't have her own children, but she's still "granny" to everyone
The farm, and the family, will go on without her, (despite all the changes) "same as it ever was" in all the ways that matter.
It's okay to go to bed now.
It's okay to die now.
I was worried I was being too direct with my comparisons, and thus it'd be too superficial of a story, so I tried to weave the themes in more subtly, and... well obviously that was the wrong direction, at least for the two of you. :-) I'll have to rework things and go back to more anvilicious contrasts.
Thank you for the feedback!
>>Pascoite
So this was meant to a rather direct parallel between the farm and AB's personal life.
Automation was a new, non traditional direction for the farm.
AB chose a non traditional mate in Gabby.
The drones buzz around in all directions.
AB's thoughts are confused (by the chemo) and going in all directions.
AB wonders if she let the farm down by automating things.
AB wonders if she let the family down by not having kids.
And so on.
Ultimately, the message was meant to be that there is no right answer. If I'd been more direct with the title, it maybe should've been "the more things change, the more they stay the same." But I like the line from The Talking Heads more. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IsSpAOD6K8
So, the drones are everywhere, but there are still ponies/others putting in old fashioned sweat
AB didn't have her own children, but she's still "granny" to everyone
The farm, and the family, will go on without her, (despite all the changes) "same as it ever was" in all the ways that matter.
It's okay to go to bed now.
It's okay to die now.
I was worried I was being too direct with my comparisons, and thus it'd be too superficial of a story, so I tried to weave the themes in more subtly, and... well obviously that was the wrong direction, at least for the two of you. :-) I'll have to rework things and go back to more anvilicious contrasts.
Thank you for the feedback!