Breaking my long posting hiatus to comment on this story. (Then will wander off to resurrect a few dead threads.) Wow. This one pushed a lot of memory buttons for me. Personal life buttons. Where to start..
First, my mom is and was a huge Roy Rogers fan. Huge. She won a writing contest about Roy way way back in the day and got some golden pistols as a prize. Boy does her geek daughter wish she'd kept those.
Second, my sister was the horse crazy one. Horse. Crazy. By the time I came along eight years later she had a whole collection of plastic horses and elaborate horsey set-ups that pretty much would be the envy of any fan-girl ever. We actually ended up with a ranch and actual live horses so there was definitely a happy ending, and I can report that having the actual live animals available does nothing to cure the horse-craziness. It infected me as well.
Third, I've seen Trigger. That Trigger. The stuffed one. He l "lived" (and perhaps still does?)io the Gene Autry museum which is quite near the LA Zoo. And..where I picked up the poster with the quote "The emancipation of women may not have begun with the vote, nor in the cities where they arrived signs and marched, but when they mounted a good cow horse and noticed how different and fine the view" that remains on my wall to this day.
So, to say this story spoke to me would be an understatement. The little girl that I was recognized that horses aren't just beautiful, but powerful. With them we can see farther, go longer and sit taller than we'd ever dreamed. A horse is freedom and friendship in one package.
I won't say I didn't step back a little and wonder about the logistics of "build-a-horse" workshop. But, if you can get to Mars and colonize it I'm willing to suspend disbelief about the challenges of building your own horsey substitute. The contemplation of thieving I found completely believable, for the record.
I was well pleased with the direction the story took at the end. It's a rare thing to see the sweet desire of a child for the unattainable be transformed into a lesson about the value of remembrance but not worship of the past as well as the great part passion can play in great acts of creativity.
All in all, a nice quiet and contemplative interlude.
Thanks, Escapepod for reminding me why I love you so.
