Fear of Success

Chapters

%i%: The prologue you'll probably just skip over anyways. Naw, it's cool.
%i%: Twilight gets a letter and brews some tea.
%i%: Non-deterministic problems... won’t. Polynomial-time problems... can’t.
%i%: Twilight solves for X... TREME!!
%i%: Pinkie Pie reconciles the deterministic nature of the cosmos with the metaphysical libertarian view of free will.
%i%: Pinkie Pie wins a pickled-onion eating contest.
%i%: Twilight changes Applejack’s... mind. Heh. Hehe! MUHAHA*snrk*HAHA!
%i%: Twilight loses her glasses. Wait... she wears glasses?
%i%: Into every generation, a seamstress is born...
%i%: FIGHT THE FUTURE
%i%: Applejack runs out of time.
%i%: Twilight goes beyond the impossible.
%i%: Fluttershy is the only pony who can save Equestria! We’re doomed.
%i%: Pinkie Pie sings and dances. Doesn’t narrow it down much, does it?
%i%: Twilight Sparkle dies. She dies in this chapter! TWILIGHT SPARKLE TOTALLY DIES!!!
%i%: Then she gets better.
%i%: It's hard to be humble...
Chapter 18
%i%: “We don’t need no education” is a double negative.
%i%: Apple family motto: Faithful to the core.
%i%: Knock Knock.
%i%: Who's there?
%i%: A few loose ends to tidy up.
And now, a very special message.

%i%: The prologue you'll probably just skip over anyways. Naw, it's cool.

1: The prologue you'll probably just skip over anyways. Naw, it's cool.

“Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure... than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.”

Theodore Roosevelt

Twilight Sparkle peered down at the circle of symbols engraved in the rock floor of the cavern. The deep blue stone had been carved not with any physical tool, but with the raw power of magic itself.

The floor shuddered violently and a shower of dust and pebbles fell from the ceiling. Twilight glanced up at the clusters of red crystal that dotted the cavern walls, fused to the rock as if they’d grown out of it. Twilight squinted at the shapes underneath the crystals: at the petrified bones that were barely visible through the ruby-bright facets.

These crystals are somehow drawing energy from the fossils. She tilted her head and brushed a strand of her mane out of her face. By why? And where is it going? What is it being used for? To cast a spell, or maintain an existing one? Or maybe it’s powering a natural phenomenon of some sort?

The cavern shuddered again with greater force. The needle-sharp stalactites shook, but held in place.

“Twilight!” shouted Pinkie Pie from the mouth of the cave. “Are you done yet?”

She tapped the bridge of her nose.A portal, maybe?

“Twilight! We really need to wrap this up soon! He’s getting lots closer!”

“Just keep him out of the cave a little longer,” she called back calmly.

“Are you almost finished with the magic runes?”

Twilight leaned down and examined a particular symbol. “No. I’ve almost started.”

Pinkie Pie spun around. “What!?”

“Patience is a virtue,” Twilight said in a sing-song voice.

Pinkie Pie hopped in place. “But what about being a smarty-smart smarty-pants? That’s a virtue too, right? I mean, we could really use that virtue right now.”

“Pinkie Pie, please. I am trying to think.”

“Then why do you look like you’re just standing there going hmm?”

“Because that’s what thinking looks like.” Twilight took a thick reference book out of her saddlebag and scanned the index. “What’s going on out there?”

Pinkie Pie spun around and looked out the mouth of the cave. “It looks like he managed to drink all three of the Potions of Notions and grew to the size of a house. He stole the airship’s anchor and swung it all around, smashing up the emerald mirror maze. The waterfall coming out of the mountain is flowing backwards now, and the King of all Lemmings is trying to de-hypnotize his subjects. I guess they’re trying to give him a bath or something. Oh, and there’s only two more miniature volcanoes left.”

A bright orange glow lit Pinkie Pie from outside and a blast of warm air swept her mane back.

“No, wait... just one.”

“Mmm.” Twilight flipped to the middle of the book. “Let me know when something happens.”

“Something!?” Pinkie Pie reared up on her hind legs and pointed outside with both front hooves. “Everything is happening!”

The cavern shuddered violently and several stalactites fell from the ceiling. Without taking her eyes from her book, Twilight stepped sideways. A giant needle of rock crashed to the floor beside her.

She turned a page. “I meant something important.”

“Twilight!” Applejack scampered up to the mouth of the cave and stood next to Pinkie Pie. “You gotta do something quick, Twi! He knocked down the giant magnifyin’ glass and we’re down to our last box of tiny umbrellas! Fluttershy and Rarity are tap dancing as fast as they can, but I don’t know how long they can keep it up!”

Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. “I never thought the magnifying glass would work anyways. It was worth a try, though.”

Applejack shook her head, solemnly. “I reckon this might be a lost cause after all, Twilight. It’s nearly dawn and he’s almost reached the cave. The magical ‘living rope’ you made didn’t even slow him down.”

“The rope failed?” Twilight Sparkle looked up from her book. “It should be able to tangle anything.”

“It worked great,” Applejack said, “right up until he set himself on fire and burned right through it.”

“You didn’t know he could ignite himself?” Twilight returned to her book. “I thought I mentioned that before we left. In any case, he’ll turn to ashes in a minute or so. I can finish studying this magic circle while he’s busy revivifying himself.”

“A minute or so?” said Applejack. “He’s been on fire for the past half-hour!”

Twilight’s head snapped up. Her friends leaned forward and gave her their undivided attention.

“Applejack...?”

“Yeah, sugarcube?”

“Is he... singing?”

Applejack’s eyebrows shot up. “What does that have to do with anything!?”

“Please, Applejack. It’s important.”

Applejack frowned at her. “No, Twilight. He wasn’t singing.”

Rarity scrambled into the mouth of the cave and collapsed beside them. She was covered in soot and ashes, and gasping for breath. “No more... I can’t bear it any longer!”

Applejack knelt by her side and brushed away some of the soot. “It’s all right, Rarity! We’ll get you to the spa as soon as we get back to Ponyville! He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Hurt? No... mortally wounded, am I!” Rarity held a hoof to her forehead and swooned. “Never before have I heard such passion! Such resonant tone and timbre! My ears will never again be blessed by such rapturous melodies! To live out the rest of my days bereft of such beauty would be a fate worse than the icy embrace of death!”

Applejack stared at her, slack jawed. “Are you telling me he’s singing?”

“Rodrigo’s Aria, from Verdi’s Don Colto! I’ve only heard it once before: a live performance by Dmitri Horsetovsky. And this puts him to utter shame!”

Applejack glared at her. She then turned to Twilight, blandly. “Yep. He’s singin’.”

“Then he’s not a phoenix at all,” said Twilight. “He’s a rooster.”

“Are you sure?” Applejack said. “What kinda rooster can set himself on fire?”

“Only one.” She levitated a scroll in front of her face and inscribed glowing ink onto its surface. “Hold him off while I prepare a spell. And whatever you do, don’t distract me: I require complete concentration.”

Pinkie Pie and Applejack nodded together, but Rarity leapt to her feet.

“No! How can we put an end to such musical genius? I would sooner smash a stained glass window!”

Pinkie Pie gently set a hoof on her shoulder. “Rarity, you know what he’s trying to do. If he’s allowed to sing when the sun rises, there won’t be anymore Sundays! We’ll just go straight from Saturday to Monday! Can you live with the knowledge that you allowed that to happen?”

“No, of course not.” Rarity’s eyes welled with tears. “Curse him for making us do this!”

“Just don’t let him distract me,” said Twilight. “And let me know when he’s about to enter the Cavern.”

The three ponies nodded and rushed outside. The next instant, all five of Twilight’s friends were hurled back into the cave by an explosion of force. A gigantic rooster stood in the cave entrance surrounded by a nimbus of searing, golden flames. His tail was a long, flowing fan of red and orange plumage that swept the floor like a cape. His wings gestured at them grandly, and his feathers grasped at the air like fingers.

“Behold! I, Alectryon... have arrived!”

Applejack landed next to Twilight with a thud. “He’s in the cavern now.”

“I noticed.” Twilight turned to the rooster but continued to write on the scroll without looking at it. “I thought you should know something. This magic ritual of yours isn’t going to destroy the abstract concept of Sunday. It’s going to destroy the actual sun.”

The others gasped in horror.

The rooster puffed out his chest and swept one leg back. “Alectryon is perfectly aware of this.”

“I’ve studied the old legends,” she said. “You were supposed to be a guardian of the sun! A faithful servant! Why would you ever want to destroy it?”

The rooster tossed his head back and swept his comb and wattle aside with a rehearsed ease. “For countless centuries Alectryon has greeted the new day with his song. Not a single dawn has passed without the blessing of Alectryon’s peerless tenor! And how is Alectryon’s faithful obedience repaid?”

A streak of rainbow light shot towards the titanic bird. He snapped into an elegant, dance-like pose and swept his wing out, knocking Rainbow Dash aside with unmatched speed and grace. She sailed past him and scrambled to extinguish her tail.

“How, I ask you?” His talons scraped against the stone as he approached Twilight. “Alectryon has been the most faithful watcher a master could ask for, and now he is to be discarded? Like a worthless vagrant?”

Pinkie Pie spun a heavy iron cannon around and yanked its cable. A spray of foam and bubbles cascaded out, but the rooster swept his wing in a wide arc: a wave of fire burst forth and reduced the soap bubbles to hissing steam.

“Alectryon has served the daylight longer than your civilization has existed! Do you think your petty desires carry any weight? Alectryon would sooner see the sun destroyed than allow his magnificence to be spurned!”

Rarity gasped in shock. “You wouldn’t! You couldn’t! What did Celestia ever do to you?”

Twilight split her attention between the book, the circle of runes, and the question. “He’s talking about Helios: he was responsible for maintaining the sun before Celestia was even born. He created Alectryon to serve him.”

“You are wrong, foolish scholar! It was Ares, the god of war, who created me to stand guard. Only Helios, the bringer of light, was formidable enough to pass by me unseen. When Ares cast me out for my failure, it was Helios who took me under his wing! And now I have been abandoned and neglected by two gods! This will not stand!”

“That may be true Alectryon, but both of your masters have been gone for tens of thousands of years. Your dream of revenge is nothing but a delusion.”

Alectryon uttered a derisive snort. “One sun will do just as well as another. Alectryon’s revenge upon the gods will not be denied!”

“Don’t you dare!” Fluttershy said and flitted up in front of his face. “You can’t do whatever you want just because somebody hurt your feelings! Do you know what destroying the sun would do? Are you even thinking about anyone but yourself?”

Her gaze was a magnetic force in the air. The massive rooster flinched back as they locked eyes, but his beak opened wide. He held forth one wing and flexed his feathers as if grasping an invisible object in the air, and his resonant voice blasted the interior of the cave with a flawless tone. The words he sang came from a language that was ancient and indecipherable, and yet the emotions they conveyed were universal to all living souls.

Awe and wonder seized the pony’s hearts like an iron claw. The intensity of Fluttershy’s stare was no match, and she tumbled back through the air in shock. Rarity immediately swooned to the floor again, her hoof against her brow. Even Applejack and Rainbow Dash were paralyzed by the inimitable strength and purity they heard.

Twilight’s eyes remained fixed on her scroll and her scripting continued unhindered. “I’ve almost got this figured out. I just need a few more seconds.”

“Alectryon will not allow it! Now face the fury of a true servant of the dawn!”

The rooster charged forward in a sheath of sacred fire, and his talons scratched flurries of sparks from the stone. All of Twilight’s friends leapt at the colossal bird in a final, hopeless bid to slow his progress. Twilight continued to examine her scroll as the cave shuddered and quaked behind her. Explosions of scorching fire and shattered stone filled the air, and cries of surprise and anger echoed off the walls. Bursts of color and light and confetti and soap-suds and silver-threaded ribbon occasionally sailed past Twilight, all unnoticed. An arc of flame swept at her from behind: a rainbow swoosh deflected the majority of the heat wave, but a few errant flames landed on Twilight’s tail and mane. She swatted at them, mildly annoyed.

Twilight ceased her writing and stroked the end of her feather quill against her nose.

Hmm... maybe I should do one last proofreading, just in case.

Rainbow Dash shot past her and slammed into a stone pillar. She slid to the floor upside down, landing on her head. “Twilight! He’s—”

“Stop distracting me.” She held the scroll flat and blew across its surface, drying the golden ink. “There we go. Now all we need to do is get him inside the circle.”

She turned around and came face to face with the sharp spur on Alectryon’s scaled ankle. She craned her neck to look up at him.

“Inside the circle, eh?” He crossed his wings and peered down. “Then perhaps Alectryon will choose not to enter the circle. What then?”

Twilight cleared her throat and shuffled her feet.

“Alectryon didn’t think so.”

Twilight’s horn flared with magic and shafts of white-hot light shot up from the circle of symbols. The ring of runes expanded in size until their circumference covered the entire floor of the cavern.

Alectryon spun around, looking at the runes. “How—!?”

“Didn’t you know?” she said. “Twilight Sparkle can enlarge magic circles.”

The scroll burst into flames and the circle of runes crackled with energy. A cascade of purple beams descended upon the giant bird and began to enveloped him. The stream of tendrils coiled around his beak before he could sing, and swirled tightly around his legs and wings. He thrashed about with desperate fervor, but his fiery aura faded and his bright plumage was soon obscured from view. Eventually, all that remained of him was a great lavender orb.

The six ponies watched as the sphere of energy cracked and shattered. When the maelstrom of sound and light faded, a perfectly ordinary rooster—albeit, one with magnificent plumage—fluttered to the ground. It gave them a wobbly-necked look and started pecking at the floor.

“Eee!” Fluttershy rushed over and lifted the animal with her wings. “Who’s a little chicky-wicky! Who is? Thaaat’s right! Izzoo! Whooza itzzy-witzzy widdle...”

“It worked!” said Applejack. “We really did it!”

“You mean Twilight did it,” said Rarity. “That was simply amazing! I can’t believe you actually managed to cast such a complicated spell!”

Twilight rubbed her knee against her leg. “Well, it wasn’t that difficult.”

“Girl, please. I know how hard it is to create something special when you’re surrounded by constant disruptions.”

“You weren’t that bad,” said Twilight. “Although next time, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ask a lot of questions. It’s a teensy bit distracting.”

Rainbow Dash reached over and brushed the remaining flames off of Twilight’s tail. “Yeah. I bet it is.”

“I knew you could handle it!” said Pinkie Pie. “You’re the best there is at magic! Why, I bet there isn’t a single spell in the whole wide world of Equestria that you couldn’t cast!”

“Girls, please!” Twilight said with a smile, “I couldn’t have done any of this without each and every one of you. We all did this together! Remember how Fluttershy convinced the King of all Lemmings to help us?”

“She’s right!” Fluttershy said. “And we never would have found the Cave of Secrets if Rainbow Dash hadn’t explored this mountain!”

“And the golden apples of the Hesperides!” said Rainbow Dash. “We couldn’t have found them without Applejack’s wilderness skills!”

“And the airship!” Applejack said. “If Rarity hadn’t been there to stitch the balloon back together, we’d never have gotten here in time!”

“And the... er...” Rarity turned to Pinkie Pie. “There was... hmm.”

Pinkie Pie hopped in anticipation. “Yeah? Yeah?”

“The... thing. You know, the ah...” Rarity turned to the others. “A little help here, girls?”

The others nodded and mumbled about how fantastic ‘the thing’ had been.

Pinkie Pie’s eyes moistened. “I’m so happy you liked it! I worked real hard on it, too!”

“Gee Twilight,” Applejack said, “I thought you were just spoutin’ a lot of hooey. Again. But I reckon we really did save the sun!”

The rooster let loose with a piercing cock-a-doodle doo. Fluttershy dropped the bird with a squeal and rushed behind Applejack.

Applejack eyed the rooster from a distance “Now why’d he—”

“Indeed you have!”

The six ponies gasped as warm, golden light flooded the cavern. The sunrise was perfectly visible through the entrance, rising over the distant mountains like a halo of fire. Princess Celestia emerged from the center of that light and drifted to the ground before them.

“My most faithful student!” she said. “I knew you could do it. Again.”

“It was an honor!” said Twilight. “We couldn’t let all of Equestria be destroyed!”

“Hm? Oh goodness, child! Equestria was in no danger. Our enemy was only trying to destroy the sun.” Celestia smiled and rolled her eyes. “You have no idea what a chore it is to replace.”

“Oh,” said Twilight. “Well, it was still a great honor.”

“It is good to know I can always depend on you.” Celestia leaned down and gave her a gentle hug. “I do hope the danger wasn’t too great.”

Dash shrugged. “Well, we did fighta giant flaming cockerel.”

“Alectryon?” Celestia’s glanced about the cavern, alarmed. “If I had known he was involved I never would have sent you. Not even I can estimate the power he wields! I am curious to know what his true purpose was: It couldn’t have been mere revenge.”

Dash pointed further into the cavern. “You can ask him about it yourself.”

Celestia looked at the small red rooster hopping about the cave.

“Oh, that is adorable!” Celestia’s horn glowed and the rooster levitated to them, flustered by the invisible force around it. Celestia nuzzled her nose against its beak. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing? Yes you are! Who’s the handsomest little birdy?”

Twilight Sparkle cleared her throat. “Princess? Perhaps we should—”

“Yes of course.” She straightened up and nodded to them. “I am thankful you were able to disable him harmlessly. It will be far easier to care for him in his current state. Perhaps, with time, he will attain the grace and humility needed to assume his true form responsibly.”

“You should have seen him before,” Rarity said with a grin. “He was a fowl knave indeed!”

Celestia cast a disapproving gaze. “This poor creature was a noble and worthy servant before his master chose to neglect him. Some degree of dignity and respect is-pfff!”

“...Princess?”

Celestia sputtered with laughter for a moment. “A fowl knave! I only just got that! How long have you been saving it?”

Rarity brushed her mane aside with a sheepish smile. “A few hours now.”

Celestia’s laughter faded into a gentle sigh. She cleared her throat and straightened her posture. “The royal court of Canterlot thanks you for your courage and determination. I thank you. All of you.”

The six ponies knelt together.

Celestia waved for them to rise. “You may retain the use of my airship for your journey home. I shall see to its repairs myself when it is returned to the palace.”

“What about this cavern?” Twilight said. “It has some amazing magical properties. Surely we could study it further!”

“I am afraid not, my student, for this is the final resting place of the first flock of phoenixes who chose to make our world their home. It is a hallowed memorial for a sacred animal.”

“Oh my goodness, I had no idea!” Twilight said, “you’re absolutely right, of course. This cave deserves to be treated with the utmost dignity.”

Celestia nodded. “Thank you for understanding.”

Celestia watched as the six ponies left the cave. She glanced back at the rooster, still hovering in place. She pulled her mane over her head like a curtain and brought the bird close.

She pulled her hair away, revealing her face. “Peek-a-boo!”

The rooster immediately uttered a loud, piercing crow.

“Absolutely priceless!” She walked out of the cave with the rooster in tow. “And what a handsome thing you are! Come to think of it, Philomeena has been a tad lonely. I’m sure you two will get along wonderfully! I’ll have to make sure she teaches you everything she knows about good manners and proper conduct. And how to preen yourself: your plumage is in terrible condition. And we’ll have to file your talons a bit. And maybe a little bowtie!”

The rooster flapped its wings and clucked frantically as she carried it out of the cave.

%i%: Twilight gets a letter and brews some tea.

2: Twilight gets a letter and brews some tea.

“As kids we're not taught how to deal with success; we're taught how to deal with failure. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. If at first you succeed, then what?”

Charlie Sheen

Spike looked up from his card game as the library doors opened. Twilight trudged in: her coat was covered in soot and ash, and patches of her mane and tail were singed and blackened. He opened his mouth to speak but kept quiet as she went directly to the bathroom.

Spike glanced at Owloysius before tossing his cards down and jumping to his feet. He ran to the bathroom door and pressed his ear against it.

“Twilight?” he said, “there was a letter while you were away. Not from the princess or anything: just a regular letter.”

He knocked on the door but there was no response. He tested the lever and found it unlocked. Spike glanced back at Owloysius, who looked up from his own cards just long enough to shrug.

“You in there, Twi?” he opened the door and saw Twilight in the middle of the room. Her mane was shorn down to a ragged, ugly brush cut and her tail was a stumpy bristle. The floor was covered with a vast quantity of long, purple hair, and there were a pair of garden shears on the counter.

Spike clenched both fists in panic. “Twilight! What are you—”

Too late, Spike saw the aura of a delicate spell taking shape around Twilight’s horn. She flinched at the sound of his voice, utterly distracted. A flash of light filled the bathroom and sent Spike tumbling backwards. He staggered to his feet and rubbed his eyes, and when his vision cleared Twilight Sparkle’s mane and coat were back to their usual length and lustre.

“I’m so sorry, Twi! I didn’t know you were casting a spell in there.”

“It’s all right,” she said, “but I’d appreciate it if you knocked next time.”

“I thought I did. I didn’t ruin the spell, did I? Did something go horribly wrong?”

“The spell worked fine,” said Twilight. “It takes a little more than that to distract me, and it was a very simple spell to begin with.”

Spike stared as she swept up the massive heap of purple hair. “Are you telling me that ‘growing’ magic is simple?”

“Once you get the hang of it, yes.” She dumped the discarded hair in a wastebasket. “Was there something you needed?”

“Yeah. A letter arrived while you were away.” Spike held up a scroll with a plain grey ribbon. “It wasn’t from the princess or anything, so it’s probably not important.”

“All letters are important,” said Twilight. “I’d better take care of this now.”

“But you just got back. You must be totally burnt out!” He glanced at a charred patch of hair hanging over the lip of the wastebasket. “I mean... you must be really tired.”

“Work is work, Spike. If somepony took the time to send me a letter then it must be important. I can’t just blow something off whenever I feel like it.” She unfolded her writing desk and prepared a fresh sheet of parchment. “The letter, Spike. If you please.”

Spike frowned, but opened the scroll and cleared his throat.

“Dear Twilight Sparkle. The Canterlot Association of Royal Regulatory Ordinances, Terms and Stipulations appreciates your interest in assisting with the...” he paused and scanned ahead. “...thanks you for your investment of time and effort... due to unforeseen circumstances, we regret to inform you... your services will not be required.”

Twilight twisted around in her chair to look at him. “Are they talking about the convention?”

“It, uh... looks like.” Spike scanned the scroll. “It says here the person who volunteered to host the convention decided to take a vacation ‘because they felt like it,’ and they didn’t give any advance notice. The association couldn’t find a new venue in time so they decided to cancel the whole thing.”

“But I was supposed to give a presentation. I was... I was supposed to run a panel.” Twilight looked back at her desk. “I’ve been working for weeks! I skipped two of Pinkie Pie’s tasty pastry tasting parties for this.”

Spike rolled up the scroll until it was clenched tight. He watched her from behind as she bowed her head, shoulders shaking. “Geez, Twi. I’m sure they—”

Twilight jumped up on her chair and reared up, tossing her head back with laughter. “This is wonderful! I wasted two weeks getting ready for that horrible chore, and now I’m free! Free at last!” She leapt down and began dancing about the room, laughing all the while. Spike yelped as she scooped him up and swung him in a circle.

“So, this is a good thing?”

“Are you kidding? That convention is one whole week of boring lectures and annoying questions! It takes two whole days just to fill out the invitation paperwork!” She set him down and ran to the wall calendar. She grabbed a quill and ran a bright red stroke across an entire row of squares, each filled with tiny little notes. “I have a whole week to do whatever I want!”

“Really? Anything at all?”

“Oh, yes. And I know exactly what I’m doing for starters.” Her horn glowed, and an entire chemistry set flew off the shelves and arranged itself on a table. “There’s something I’ve been putting off for far too long—something absolutely essential—and this is the perfect opportunity to do a proper job of it.”

Spike watched as she reared up and performed a pirouette. He wrung his hands as the beakers and vials began to bubble and boil.

Spike scanned the checklist he’d been given and examined the row of bubbling vials. All right Spike. It’s very simple chemistry. As long as you stick to the list, nothing will go wrong. It’s a total no-brainer. He reached out and picked up a vial, and the searing heat was nothing at all to his tiny talons. He held the vial over a mixing bowl and carefully—

“Hiya, Spike!” Pinkie Pie called as she burst through the front door.

“Ahh!” Spike fumbled the vial and dumped the contents all at once. The mixture bubbled over the edge of the bowl and exploded violently. A thick layer of soapy foam covered Spike from head to toe and spattered most of the tabletop.

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Pinkie Pie said, “Twilight’s always saying that this is a public library so there’s no need to knock first.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I should have been more careful anyways.” Spike wiped the foam off his face. “A no-brainer, she says. Impossible to mess up, she says... I don’t know how she does it.”

Pinkie Pie walked inside and looked at the apparatus on the table. “Well, that’s why she’s the ‘Celestia’s most faithful student.’ She knows what she’s doing!”

“Yeah, but it isn’t nearly as easy as she makes it out to be. Her spells almost never go wrong.” He began mixing the remaining vials, this time gradually. “At least the whole batch wasn’t spoiled. There should be just enough.”

“Enough of what? And what for?” Pinkie Pie bounced in place. “Can I guess? Can I have twenty questions, first?”

“Absolutely not. Twilight’s finally gotten some time to herself and she isn’t to be disturbed for anything.”

“Wow,” Pinkie said, “is she doing something important for the princess?”

“She’s doing something important for herself. She just had an entire week free up and she’s got a whole stack of personal projects to take care of. She’s been putting some of them off ever since she graduated.”

“Twilight...? Hasfree time? I totally have to throw a party for her!” She glanced about the library. “What would she like the best? I know: a book club reading! Or maybe a workshop on how to write essays!”

“That’s not really—” Spike stroked his chin. “Actually, she’d love that. But it’ll just have to wait.”

“She won’t be busy the whole week, will she?”

“Probably not. She mentioned wanting to hang out with all her friends, but she has to take care of the most important thing first. And trust me... it’s going to take the entire day.”

“That’s all right,” said Pinkie Pie, “I totally understand. I’ll check back tomorrow!”

“Laters,” said Spike. He watched her leave, then turned to the thick layer of bubbly suds. He sighed and went to the broom closet to fetch a mop.

Spike knocked on the bathroom door.

“Whozits?” Twilight answered from beyond. Her voice was slurred.

“It’s me. I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed unless a letter from the Princess arrived.” Spike looked at the gilded red-ribboned scroll in his hand. “So... yeah. That’s what happened. Should I just leave it by the door?”

“You can come in. Just be quiet, if you please.”

Spike opened the door and stepped into the dark bathroom. There were over a dozen candles arranged about the room, casting warm light and wobbly shadows on the walls. The air was filled with scented smoke and the sound of lapping water.

Spike went to the bathtub and climbed up a nearby step-stool. Twilight Sparkle was buried under a blanket of snow-white bubbles. She was wearing a frilly pink blindfold and leaning her head against the edge of the tub.

Spike opened his mouth to speak, but a hollow wooden clink interrupted him. He looked at the little bamboo water fountain sitting on the countertop: a stream of water dribbled out of a tiny glowing portal and began refilling the hollow shaft of the lever.

He held up the scroll. “Message from the princess. Should I leave it on the counter?”

“S’okay. Gimme.”

“You’re not going to get it wet, are you?”

“S’fine.”

Spike frowned at her. “You know what happens when you read in the tub.”

“S’fine, really. My friends and I just finished a dangerous expedition for the crown. She’s probably just checking up on us.”

Spike held up the scroll and watched nervously as it levitated over the tub.

“Thanks,” she said.

“So, will you—” Spike spun around and glared at the bamboo fountain.

The lever of the bamboo fountain dropped down, clinking against the frame and spilling its contents into the sink.

Spike turned back to Twilight. “Will you need anything else, then?”

“Nope.”

“Well okay then. If you’re sure.”

Spike left the bathroom, taking care to close the door quietly.

The bathroom door burst open, and Spike dropped his mop in surprise. Twilight stood in the open doorway, dripping wet and covered with suds. She gasped for breath, eyes wide.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Spike. “You know what happens when you read in the tub.”

“I didn’t—!” Twilight shook her head. “Just go to the basement and start unpacking things. We need to set up the thaumaturgical apparatus!”

“We’ve got a ton of those. Which do you mean?” Spike ticked off his talons. “The toxicological arcano-analyzer? The clinical transmutation recombinator array? The hermetic quasi-dimensional solenoid? Or the spelly-welly thingy-wingy?”

“Yes! All of it! Everything!”

Spike watched her gallop through the main hall, trailing soap and water. He held up his mop. “Do you want me to—”

“There’s no time for tidying up! This is an emergency!”

Spike stared at her in shock. He dropped the mop and sprinted to the basement.

Rarity and Pinkie Pie walked down Ponyville’s busy main street and towards the massive tree-house that was plainly visible from any part of the road.

“If you ask me,” Rarity said, “she’s been in desperate need of a vacation for months. The least we can do is give her some time to herself.”

“I guess so,” Pinkie Pie said, “but I don’t think she really knows much about having fun. I’ve done everything I can to mentor her since she arrived but she still hasn’t gotten the hang of it yet... not quite. Shouldn’t we help her relax?”

“I’m sure she’d love to spend more time with us, but she also loves being a scholar. Working for the princess must be very fulfilling, but it’ll be a nice change of pace for her to work on a project of her own.”

“But it’s still work, isn’t it? What’s the difference?”

“I’ve been paid to make dresses for hundreds of other ponies, and I assure you it’s nothing like creating a work of art for its own sake. No requirements, no deadlines, no budgets... just you and the pure bliss of creativity.” Rarity tossed her mane aside. “It may seem like a lot of paperwork to us. But to her, it’s satisfying. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I mean... no, I don’t. Not really. But you’re probably right.”

“There you go,” said Rarity. She went to the front door of the library and set her hoof on the handle. “Now remember. No matter what we see in there, we need to let her know that we respect her wishes. This is her time off and we can trust her to spend it however she likes.

“Right,” Pinkie Pie said, “we’re only here to encourage her. We’re not going to judge her hobby, and we’re definitely not going to drag her off to a party.”

“Exactly,” said Rarity.

Pinkie Pie took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hi, Twilight! We just... wanted... to...”

Rarity walked in and stood beside her. She glanced at Pinkie Pie’s stunned expression before looking at the interior of the library itself: The bookshelves were covered with waterproof tarps and several folding tables had been arranged in a circle. The upper sections of the walls were covered with huge chalkboards—packed with dense scribbles and diagrams—and the floor was carpeted with scrolls and torn paper. Over a dozen large mechanical devices whirred and hummed, and thick bundles of colored cables snaked across the floor and down into the basement. A single massive device dominated the center of the library: a tall metal pillar that bristled with glowing tubes, sparking antennae and rattling gauges.

Pinkie Pie and Rarity stared at the machinery, spellbound. Spike scrambled past with a towering armload of books. “Sorry, guys. The library’s closed.”

They stared at the door they’d just opened, only then noticing the “closed” sign hanging on the front.

Pinkie Pie tilted her head in awe. “I’ve never seen that sign before!”

“We’ve never used it before.” Spike set down one stack of books and scooped up another. “Sorry, Rare. Kinda busy here.”

Pinkie Pie leaned over and whispered to Rarity. “Is this really Twilight’s idea of fun?”

“It’s... possible.” Rarity raised her voice and called to spike. “Can we speak to Twilight, please?”

“Look, I’d—”

“Spike!” Twilight called. They looked up and saw her hanging from the ceiling by a series of cables, busily manipulating part of the central machinery. She was wearing a set of thick, black-lensed goggles. “Recalibrate the omni-tronic un-quantum resonator for four and a half spectroniums. Not four. Not five. Four and a half!”

“Sure thing, boss!” Spike said. He looked over his shoulder as he ran away. “Sorry, girls. Might want to check back later!”

They watched as portions of the central machine rotated, slowly picking up speed. Twilight kicked away from the machine and swung around the room in a wide arc, coming to a halt as she grabbed onto a different part of the central mechanism.

“That sort of looks like fun,” Pinkie Pie said. “Do you think it’s a game? Or something?”

“Well, I doubt it’s—”

“Spike!” Twilight shouted, “hurry up with the calibration! This isn’t a game or something!”

“Sorry boss! Almost done!”

Pinkie Pie gave Rarity a displeased squint.

“Give us a minute,” Rarity said, “I’m sure she has an excellent reason for all this. I’m sure it’s very important... very serious.”

Pinkie Pie glowered up at Twilight. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Rarity pushed her outside and locked the door behind her. She strolled closer to the pillar of machinery and craned her neck to look up. “Twilight? Dear? Can we talk for just a moment?”

“Can’t! Busy! No distractions! This is important!”

“More important than your friends? Surely you—” Rarity flinched aside as a nearby machine sprang to life, spinning and whirring. “Surely you can spare a moment?”

“I can, but not right now. Just give me one more minute and I’ll explain everything!”

“Ah, well of course.” Rarity backed away from the nearest table. “I’ll just wait over here.”

“No!” Twilight shouted. “Not by the electropomorphic condensification coils!”

Rarity flinched away from a nearby device. “Goodness! Is it dangerous?”

“Not if you’re wearing rubber-soled horseshoes.”

Rarity shuffled sideways. “How about—”

“Now you’re too close to the sinusoidal centripetal centrifuge! It could injure you if it got caught in your mane or tail!”

Rarity gasped and retreated from the rapidly spinning wheel. She bumped up against a covered bookshelf and shuffled sideways until none of the devices were in reach.

“How about here? Is here good?”

“By the young adult paperbacks? Blech! You wouldn’t believe the drivel we have now. I’ve been trying to replace it for months but all the best series are way too expensive. Small town libraries get hardly any funding, and donations have been pretty poor this month.”

The hum from the mechanical pillar grew louder and a series of long antennae spread out from the middle, crackling with energy.

Twilight swung around and lowered herself to the floor. “Maybe it’s time we held a fundraiser. A bake sale, maybe. Something the school fillies could help with.”

“I see,” Rarity said. “Maybe it’d be best if I just waited outside.”

“Sorry Rarity, but I can’t allow that.” Twilight Sparkle adjusted her goggles and levitated a cutting torch. “It’s just not safe in here. I’ll have to ask you to wait outside.”

“Yes, of course. Quite so.”

Rarity waited on the front step of the library and politely turned away the few ponies who approached. Massive shafts of light cascaded out of every window. A deep rumbling echoed across the village. She glanced every back now and then, but couldn’t bring herself to open the door.

Rarity flinched as the pyrotechnic display came to an abrupt halt. She reached for the door, hesitant, but Twilight opened it from inside.

“Could you help me with something? Just quick?”

“With...” Rarity’s eyes flicked between Twilight and machinery beyond. “...What?”

Twilight rushed inside. Rarity followed and glanced around. The machinery was idle. The library was quiet.

“Here,” Twilight said and opened a compartment in the central mechanism. She carefully removed a teapot and poured the contents into a nearby cup. “Try some. Tell me what you think.”

Rarity bit her lip. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure yet. I need a second opinion.”

Rarity’s horn glowed and the cup and saucer levitated close. She sniffed the liquid and gave Twilight one last hesitant look.

“Go on,” she said. “I’ve already tried some. It’s perfectly safe.”

Rarity took a small sip and delicately smacked her lips. “Hm.”

“What do you think? Be totally honest.”

“Lemon jasmine green-tea, I think. Not bad.” She peered into the cup and swirled the steaming liquid. “Not the best, mind you. It needs a little more fragrance.”

“Argh!” Twilight tossed her head and stomped away.

“No wait!” Rarity set the cup aside and chased after her. “It’s not that bad, really! You just need to find the right blend of citrus, that’s all!”

“It’s not the tea I’m worried about!” Twilight rolled her eyes and pointed at the monolithic mechanism. “I wouldn’t go to all this trouble just to cast a ‘brew-some-tea’ spell. This is way more important!”

“I think you need to start from the beginning.” Rarity’s horn glowed and a pair of seat cushions drifted to the floor beside them. A small end-table landed between them, with the teapot neatly arranged on a tray. “You promised to explain everything if I waited. And I did wait.”

Twilight flopped back on her cushion and poured a second cup of tea. “Princess Celestia has asked me to develop a new spell. Of sorts. I need to do a very thorough job of it, and it needs to be absolutely, positively fail-proof.”

“My goodness!” said Rarity. “That does sound like quite the undertaking. But I’m sure somepony as gifted as you should have no trouble at all. I can’t think of anypony better suited to the task.”

“I’ve already finished a prototype of the spell, but I can’t...” Twilight's shoulders slumped. “Well, you see...”

“You can’t what? You can tell me. Really.”

“I can’t test it.”

Rarity’s set her cup aside. “But you never have trouble casting spells!”

“I can cast it just fine. I just can’t test it.”

“I’m not sure I understand. If you can cast it, surely you’ll know whether it worked or not. Shouldn’t it be obvious?”

Twilight levitated a gilded scroll to Rarity. The seal on the red ribbon had been broken and rewrapped. “Maybe you should just read the letter. It’ll explain everything.”

“If you’re sure.” Rarity slipped off the ribbon and unfurled the scroll, clearing her throat. “From the desk of Princess Celestia. Dear Twilight Sparkle, my most faithful student: I am pleased to hear of your safe return to Ponyville, and wish you a swift recovery. However, there is a matter of no small—”

“What are you doing?”

“Hm? Well, I’m reading the letter of course.”

“Why out loud?” said Twilight. “I’ve already read it, and there’s nopony else here.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose so.”

Rarity’s eyes moved back and forth as she scanned the letter. She pursed her lips now and then, and eventually unfurled the lower half of the scroll. The faint sound of birdsong drifted in through a nearby window.

Rarity lowered the scroll with a gasp. “Oh, my! That is quite a conundrum! I can see why you—and yet it’s—but how would that even work?”

“See what I mean?” Twilight said and rolled up the scroll. “It’s not difficult. It’s just troublesome. I’ve tried everything I can think of, and nothing’s working.”

“It’s not even all that complicated, is it? It’s just puzzling.”

“Exactly! The spell itself is so simple that a filly could cast it. But the spell itself isn’t the problem. You’re a unicorn, Rarity. I know you’re not an expert on hard theory, but if there’s anything you can think of... anything at all!”

“Hm...” Rarity leaned her head back and gazed idly upward. “Have you tried...?”

%i%: Non-deterministic problems... won’t. Polynomial-time problems... can’t.

3: Non-deterministic problems... won’t. Polynomial-time problems... can’t.

“Knowledge may give weight, but accomplishments give luster, and many more people see than weigh.”

Philip Dormer Stanhope

Rainbow Dash skidded to a halt in front of the library, kicking up a trail of dust. She reared up and repeatedly slammed her front hooves on the door. The entrance held fast under the barrage of kicks.

“Twilight! What’s this I hear about you closing the library!?” She dropped down and executed a whirlwind kick, slamming both hind hooves against the door. The tree trembled slightly and a few leaves drifted down, but the door held. “This is a public institution funded by taxpayer bits! You have an obligation to the community!”

A nearby window opened up and Rarity poked her head out. “My word, Dash! It’s not even locked! Haven’t you ever used a door handle before?”

“But I heard the library was closed! What’s up with that?”

“It was closed for all of two hours. It’s open now.”

“Oh. Well... alright then.” Dash lifted the handle and shoved the door open, immediately zipping over to the hardcover section of the young adult shelf. She tugged out a book and settled into an overstuffed beanbag. “This place still closes at around eight, right?”

“Nine to eight-thirty weekdays,” said Twilight, “nine to five Saturdays, one-thirty to five Sundays. The only stat-holidays are Summer Sun Celebration, Nightmare Night, Winter Wrap-Up, and National Equine Polysaccharide Storage Myopathy Awareness Day.”

“National huh?” Dash lowered her book and looked at Twilight. Only then did she notice the gigantic mechanical pillar that ran through the center of the entire library. She stared at the smaller devices scattered about the hall, most of which were still being packed into crates.

Dash pointed up at the gleaming technological column. “What the hey is that?”

“It’s a genetic predisposition to improperly digest grains. It’s common among heavier horse breeds.” Twilight leaned on one hoof. “It’s a serious condition, but I don’t know why we get a day off for it.”

“It’s the spelly-welly thingy-wingy,” said Spike as he trudged past with an empty crate. “It takes five days to pack up. We used it for less than an hour.”

Dash stared up at the pillar of scientific instruments. “What does it even do?”

Twilight looked up from her scroll. “It’s an analytical engine for the development of thaumaturgical—

“Dash, please!” said Rarity as she came out of a side room. “Twilight is composing a very complicated spell. She needs to concentrate.”

Dash’s ears flipped up. “Are you kidding? She never messes up a spell.”

“Don’t be so insensitive,” Rarity said. “She’s trying her best!”

“Insensi... wha?” Dash glanced at Twilight. “You mean it’s a tough spell, even for her?”

“It’s not tough at all. It is a work of elegant simplicity that is—like all genius—obvious in retrospect.”

Dash pointed at Twilight’s scroll. “But I thought you said it was really complicated.”

“That spell, yes. But that’s not the spell we need to test.”

“There’s two spells?”

“Yes.”

“And one of these spells is super simple. And the other is super complicated.”

“Yes.”

“Is the simple spell supposed to... like... help you test the complicated spell?”

“The other way around, actually.”

Dash blinked at her. “So you’re using a complicated spell to help test a simple spell.”

Rarity nodded. “Indeed.”

“Well, Twilight can invent new spells, right? Why doesn’t she just invent a simpler kind ‘spell-testing’ spell?”

“Actually, she designed both of these spells herself. It has to be as complicated as possible.”

“So if you make the tester spell simple, it won’t work?”

“No, it would work perfectly. That’s the problem.” Rarity tilted her head. “Haven’t you heard a single word I’ve said?”

Dash stared off for a moment. “...Huh?”

“It’s done,” Twilight said and set the quill down.

“Excellent!” Rarity said. “I’ll go get the test chart.”

Rainbow Dash followed Rarity into a nearby side room. “You’re gonna tell me what’s going on. And you’re not gonna use any weird words that don’t make sense.”

“Sorry. We’ve been knee deep in advanced magical theory for hours now. After awhile, everything starts making sense.” She went to a large chalkboard on a wheeled stand, took a piece of chalk, and began drawing tiny circles all over the board. “Twilight needs to test a simple spell that’s designed to affect other spells. It took an enormous amount of effort to invent, but it’s very simple to cast. It was designed for ease of use.”

“Kay. So what’s the big deal?”

“We need to see if the simple spell can correctly affect a very complicated spell... and I do mean complicated. We’ve spent the last six hours trying to invent the most difficult, convoluted, demanding, and utterly ornery spell we can think of. We’ve made it excessively abstruse on purpose, just to see if the simple spell will choke when it tries to affect it. Seriously, Dash... I’ve never even heard of a spell this arduous.”

Dash watched as Rarity set down the chalk and tossed the cloth over the chalkboard.

“Is there any chance of a disaster? Like an explosion or something?”

“Oh, no-no-no.” Rarity wheeled the chalkboard out of the room. “It’s convoluted, but it’s not powerful. All it does is solve a mathemagical problem. There’s no chance of a catastrophe.”

Dash followed her into the main room. “So how tough is this spell? Be honest.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “It’s an utter horror, I assure you. It’s so tangled and messy... it’s almost magnificent, in a grotesque sort of way. I know how talented Twilight is, but I’m not sure she’ll be able to pull this off.”

Dash glanced at Twilight, sitting at the table in a meditative trance. “But this is Twilight Sparkle we’re talking about. Is there really a chance she’ll... you know... mess up this spell?”

Rarity finished moving the chalkboard and set a hoof on Dash’s shoulder.

“We can only hope so.”

One of Dash’s ears flipped up. “...Wha?”

Rarity went to the chalkboard and stood at attention. “You know the rules, Twi. You have one hour to cast the spell... not a second longer. Are you ready?”

Twilight opened her eyes. “As I’ll ever be.”

Rainbow Dash stood, hushed. She knew what it was like to test yourself... to push your limits and attempt the impossible. She’d done the impossible herself, in athletic terms. She’d never imagined that a scholastic test could seem so familiar.

Come on, Twi. Dash clenched her teeth. You can do this... I know you can!

Rarity yanked the cloth off of the board and clicked a gold pocket watch.

“Go!”

Twilight’s horn glimmered, and the surface of her scroll sparkled. There was hardly any light or noise, and yet her eyes rolled up in their sockets... her lips twitched, struggling to speak through paralyzing convulsions. A piece of chalk flew into the air and streaked across the board, connecting each of the little circles with a continuous series of sharp-angled lines. Within moments, the entire board was a giant mess of white zig-zags.

The chalk fell to the floor and snapped in half. Twilight collapsed on the table, gasping for breath. “That was... wow. That was much worse than I thought it’d be.”

Rarity stared at her watch. “Twelve... seconds?”

Dash stared at the chalkboard. “Did it work? Did it?”

“I’m checking it now,” Rarity said as her horn glowed. “It’ll take a minute or so.”

Dashe went to Rarity’s side and stared at the board. “What even is it? Seriously, what was she trying to do?”

“She was trying to solve something known as the ‘travelling sales-pony problem.’ It’s... well, it’s a...” Rarity held up a scroll. “It’s a non-deterministic polynomial-time problem.”

Rainbow Dash frowned at her. “Short words, Rarity. Or at least shorter.”

“Alright. See those random dots?” Rarity pointed at the chalkboard. “The problem requires you to connect every single dot, one after the other, using the shortest amount of line possible.”

“Like a kid’s game? Connect the dots?”

“Not even close. It’s an optimization algorithm, and the more dots you start with the harder it gets. Exponentially harder. A solution for just twenty dots is impossible to solve with just pen and paper. A hundred dots is nearly impossible, even with magic”

“How many dots are there?”

“Two hundred.” Rarity glanced at Twilight. “It should be impossible.”

Dash stare at the chalk lines. “If it’s impossible, then how can we tell if she’s correct or not?”

“Mathemagicians have been studying this problem for decades. A few years ago, somepony came up with a spell that only partly solves the problem. It examines a cloud of dots, and tells you the exact length of the shortest possible path. It doesn’t actually draw the path, but it allows us to compare—

Rarity froze, staring at the marks.

“Yeah? Did it work? Did it?”

Rarity stared at Twilight. “You’ve done it. You’ve solved the travelling sales-pony problem.”

Twilight shot up from her seat and galloped away, teary-eyed and distraught. “Arrgh! Why can’t I do anything wrong!?” She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

“But the spell worked,” Dash said, “didn’t it?”

“Yes... perfectly.” Rarity cast her eyes down, forlorn. “And I was so sure, this time.”

Dash stared at her, slack jawed. “What! Is! Going! On!”

A few minutes later, all three of them were sitting together on a circle of floor cushions. Rarity poured a cup of tea for each of them, and Twilight passed Rainbow Dash her latest letter from Celestia.

“Here. It should explain everything.”

Dash unfurled the scroll and cleared her throat dramatically. “From the desk of Princess Celestia. Dear Twilight Sparkle, my most faithful student: I am pleased to hear of your safe return to Ponyville, and wish you—

“Dash? You don’t have to read it out loud. We’ve already read it ourselves.”

“Oh... right.”

Twilight and Rarity waited patiently as Dash read the troubling letter. Her eyes slid back and forth quickly, half-lidded. They each finished a cup of tea, and Rarity went into the kitchen to fetch some biscuits. A faint chorus of birdsong drifted in through an open window.

When Dash set the scroll aside, her eyes were hard as iron. Rarity waited for her to speak, while Twilight stared into her teacup.

“So you need to stress test a spell, do you?”

Twilight nodded.

“But no matter how complicated the spell is, you can’t mess it up... not even on purpose.”

Twilight nodded again, still despondent.

“Then your problem isn’t the spell. Your problem is you.” Dash stretched a pair of flight goggles around her head and let them snap tight against her eyes. “When the student is ready... the master shall appear.”

Twilight’s posture straightened. “...What?”

“I think I can help you.” Dash steepled her front hooves in front of her face. “In fact, there’s a couple ways we could go about this.”

“Like what? At this point, I’d be willing to try anything!”

“Hm...” Rainbow Dash leaned her head back and gazed idly upward. “Have you tried...?”

The next day, twilight peered down from the basket of the hot air balloon. They were flying much higher up than she was used to: Ponyville looked remarkably like a model city. The streets were crowded with coloured specks, all milling about like ants.

“Dash? I’m not so sure about this.”

“You’ve got the spell ready, right?”

“Yes, but I’ve already used it for a test. We know it works, so it’s not—”

“Your problem isn’t the spell, Twilight. Your problem is you.” Rainbow Dash tossed her a pair of knee-high boots that were fused together at the heels and reinforced with steel bars. “Put those on your hind legs and snap all the buckles. Listen, Twi... the problem is that you’re just too dang smart for your own good. You can’t mess up a spell no matter how complicated it is. Getting a tougher spell won’t help at all... so instead, we’ll force you to cast a spell in a stressful situation.”

Twilight finished putting on the boots. “Are you sure these are the right size? They’re a little tight.”

Dash grinned. “Would you rather have’em too loose?”

Twilight peered over the edge of the basket and swallowed a lump in her throat. “Are you absolutely sure this is safe?”

Dash hefted a thick coil of rope and attached one end to her boots. “Perfectly. These cords are good for two hundred jumps.”

Twilight glanced over at Pinkie Pie. “Do you know how many times these particular cords have been—”

“A hundred ’n ninety eight so far,” Pinkie Pie said. “And the last guy was really fat.”

“What!?”

Dash patted Twilight on the back. “Don’t worry about it. They say that to everypony.”

“I don’t think this is going to work, Dash. I really don’t. I know what you’re trying to do here, but I’m not easily distracted. The princess taught me all sorts of meditation techniques.”

Dash tugged the cord one last time and stood up. “Have you ever done this before?”

“I can honestly say I haven’t.”

“Trust me. There’s a difference between meditation and keeping your cool.” She nodded to her. “You got your spell ready?”

“Oh, yes!” Twilight said. She held up a scroll with a math problem written on it. “It’s a spell used in differential geometry to calculate the surface area of a hyperbolic paraboloid that intersects with a—”

“That’s great lemme know how it goes.” Dash kicked Twilight in the flank and sent her tumbling head-over-hooves out of the gondola.

“Whoa... whoooaaAAAAA!!” Twilight’s voice became louder and shriller even as it grew more distant. “Sweet-Celestia-tap-dancing-on-a-tea-table, I’m dyin’! I’m gonna die!! Nooooo! I’m too young and intelligent to go! I wanna liiive!”

Dash leaned over the edge of the basket, chewing on a piece of raspberry bubblegum.

Pinkie Pie came up beside her. “How’s she doing?”

“Can’t really miss with a bungee cord.” She blew a bubble and sucked it back in. “Hey, were you serious about the fat guy?”

“Of course not, silly-filly! We say that to everypony the first time.” She held up a receipt. “Her cable was brand new.”

“Cool. Whoop... there’s the first bounce.” Dash frowned and leaned further out. “Whoa... is she still hanging onto that scroll?”

“I guess so. Should we leave her like that for a couple minutes? Let her enjoy the view?”

“Nah. We can’t give her too much time to solve that math problem of hers. Besides...” Dash reached for the goggles on her forehead and tugged them down over her eyes. “You know I’d never leave a friend hangin’.”

Rainbow Dash leaped out of the balloon and dove down in a spiral. She hovered in midair near the end of the cord. Twilight had stopped bouncing, but was still swinging back and forth. She had also stopped screaming, but was still wild-eyed and gasping for breath.

Dash hovered side to side as she swung back and forth. “Are you glad you went to the little filly’s room first?”

Twilight twisted her neck around, trying to make eye contact. “I have a newfound appreciation for newtonian physics.”

“So how’d it go?”

“Not good. I was trying to calculate my parabolic trajectory to see if I could predict how my gravitational acceleration would interact with the deceleration of the elastic cord.” Twilight sighed. “I was in freefall for more than five seconds, and I totally forgot about air resistance. My calculations were way off.“

“Yes!” Dash did a mid air backflip and thrust a hoof skyward. “One spell totally spoiled!”

“What? No, the spell worked great.” Twilight held up the scroll, now covered with messy writing. “I was just doing the physics afterwards, to pass the time. You know, to distract myself from the absolute numbing terror.”

Dash crossed her forelegs and glowered at her.

“Can I get down now? I can’t feel my hind legs.”

Pinkie Pie strolled through the forest just south of Ponyville and came to the winding bank of the Red Roan river. She glanced to each side of the rushing rapids and saw a tall wooden scaffolding on the bank. The lattice was holding up a steep ramp that ended in a huge loop-de-loop. There was a small crowd of ponies nearby, curious and bemused.

Pinkie Pie sighed and went to the scaffolding. She climbed up the precarious step ladder and reached the uppermost platform. Twilight was standing on a skateboard, clamped onto it with a set of boots. She was also wearing a saddlebag secured to her back with a durable shoulder harness.

“Twilight?” she said.

“Aah!” Twilight wobbled back and forth and looked over the edge of the precarious tower. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Is there something you want to tell me? Cause, y’know... I’m always here for ya, if you just want to talk. About stuff. That you want to talk about.”

“No, it’s... I’m fine. Dash is helping me with something. That’s all.”

“First the bungee jump, and now this?” Pinkie Pie stepped forward and set a hoof on her back to keep her from rolling away. “Twilight, Rainbow Dash’s idea of fun isn’t appropriate for most ponies. I know you’re trying your best, but we can find something else for you to do. You need to find out what you’d enjoy.”

“This isn’t for fun, Pinkie Pie! It’s important.”

“Whatever it is, there must be another way!”

There was a rush of air as Rainbow Dash landed next to them. “Here we go. I’ve put a different math problem in each of these envelopes. You’re not allowed to open them until you—”

“You!” Pinkie Pie pointed down at the ramp. “You can’t expect her to have this much fun! It takes years of discipline and training to enjoy yourself this much!”

“Nah, nah. She’ll be fine.” Dash passed three envelopes to Twilight. “I gave her a book about what to do.”

“A book!? That won’t help her pilot a skateboard! She can’t even ice skate! Don’t you remember the last winter wrap-up?”

Twilight shuffled her envelopes. “You know, Dash, I think Pinkie Pie might be right about this whole—”

“That’s great lemme know how it goes.” Dash kicked Twilight in the flank and sent her rolling.

“Whoa...aaa! Ahhh! AHHH!!”

Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash watched as Twilight plunged down the sheer drop, leaving the three envelopes to drift in the air behind her. A split second later, the envelopes flashed with magical light and zoomed after her.

Pinkie turned to Dash.

“Don’t give me that look,” Dash said. “There’s a rail on the ramp. She can’t miss.”

A cheer from the small crowd below caught their attention. They watched as Twilight spun through the loop-de-loop and rocketed into the air above the river.

“She should be having fun!” said Pinkie Pie. “Haven’t you done enough to her?”

“Miss Pie, we ain’t even started yet. If you’ll excuse me, I have to buddy up for the most extreme differential equation Ponyville has ever seen. And this time...” Dash snapped her flight goggles into place. “...She’ll have to show all her work.”

Dash leaped from the scaffolding and shot through the air, catching up with Twilight just as she hit the river. She’d been screaming since she’d gone down the ramp. The wheels on her skateboard snapped up, transforming the apparatus into a smooth, sleek wakeboard. Twilight skipped across the surface of the water once, then skimmed along smoothly.

Dash took out a loudspeaker as she caught up with her. “We’re not done yet, Twi! Pull the red cord!”

She couldn’t quite see what Twilight was doing, but a moment later her saddlebags burst apart. A sharp, triangular kite shot into the air: a narrow, pointed chevron of purple and blue cloth. It was connected to Twilight’s harness via a pair of kite strings. Dash dove down low and zoomed overhead, leaving a long, cylindrical hurricane in her wake. The kite passed through the powerful wind tunnel and shot ahead like an arrow. Both strings pulled tight and dragged Twilight across the surface of the river

“Level out, Twi! Are you trying to hit the riverbank?”

“Ahhh! This is absolutely nothing like a real kite!” The triangular arrow spun through the air in a series of rapid barrel rolls, tugging her side to side. “Can I please have a real kite!?”

“It’s a stunt kite! It’s the only real kite!” Dash swept low, skimming one hoof along the water. “You haven’t even opened an envelope yet? You were supposed to have one finished before you left the ramp!”

“Okay, okay! There’s... wait a second! You want me to solve a complex differential equation!? You heartless monster!”

“Are you a unicorn, or a uni-can’t?”

Dash streaked ahead with a series of corkscrew barrel rolls, and the hurricane trailed behind her. Twilight’s took control of the stunt kite and struggled to keep it within the artificial wind-tunnel. The river began winding left and right, and Twilight pulled the left and right strings: the kite swept to each side, and she leaned into each turn. Her horn left a trail of purple light over the water as her mathemagical spell took form.

“How’re you holding up there, Twi?”

“Almost done! I just need a little more—”

“Barrel jumps!” Dash zoomed ahead and slipped over a small barge with a ramp. “Miss even a single one, and you’re out!”

“Ramps? You never said anything about ramps!” Twilight gasped and swung the stunt kite to one side, low enough that its wingtip skimmed the water. Her surfboard kicked up a large splash as she leaned into a hard turn. Twilight’s board straightened out as she hit the front of the ramp. She sailed into the air, momentarily level with her kite. The scroll flared with the brilliant light of a completed spell just as she reached the apex of her jump.

“Sweet combo!” Dash shouted. “But you’re still one envelope behind!”

Twilight swept the kite left and right, skimming along the river at a breakneck speed. She streaked through four more ramps in total, each with more barrels than the last. Her posture was wobbly, but not once did she bail.

“Second envelope!” Twilight called out. “But there’s only one more ramp! I don’t think I have enough time to finish the last math problem!”

“Shows what you know!” Dash called from above. “I set up some cloud-rings! Just follow the flags and you’ll see where to go!”

Twilight hit the last ramp and gasped in horror. It didn’t lead onto the water: She was sailing straight over Ponyville’s waterfront residential district. She stared down at the rooftops and streets, and the crowd of unaware ponies... and the hard ground below.

Twilight slammed down against the angled roof top of a house. The surfboard scraped against the densely thatched roof, and the kite pulled her up and over the architectural ramp. Twilight looked at the rooftop ahead and saw a pair of rainbow-colored flags.

She clenched her teeth and swung the kite around. She stamped a front hoof onto a switch and popped the wheels back down. When she landed on the next roof, she shot between the two flags with enough power to jump over an entire street. Time slowed as she sailed through the air. She stared down at the surprised ponies below, and barely noticed the ring-shaped cloud ahead.

It’s... it’s working! I’m still alive!

The three envelopes swirled around her like electrons orbiting a nucleus. She unsealed the final envelope and scanned the text: The sum of five real numbers is seven, and the sum of their squares is ten. Find the minimum and maximum possible values of any one of the numbers.

Twilight finished another leap and landed on the second-tier balcony of the circular town hall. She twisted her kite around and did a grind along its circular edge, leaning away from the building. The pull of the kite kept her from falling over, and a shower of purple sparks sprayed off her wheels.

Oh, silly Dash...I could solve this without any magic at all! All I have to do is find an inequality that involves only one of the five real numbers. Twilight allowed herself a nervous, tentative smirk as her magic seized the quill. I solve this sort of thing on paper, so I don’t actually have a spell for it. I’ll just have to invent a solution-spell myself in the next twenty seconds...

Rainbow Dash soared over Ponyville, watching as confused ponies made their way down main street. Most of them were talking amongst each other and pointing at the ring-shaped clouds in the sky, or at the sets of colored flags that somepony had attached to certain rooftops. The area around the library was crowded in all three dimensions: Dash had to shove her way through a flock of pegasus to reach the building.

Twilight Sparkle was lying in a huge elastic safety net strung between several of the treehouse’s larger branches. Her mane was a complete mess and her eyes wobbled in different directions. Spike had climbed up next to her and was busy disconnecting her boots from the board.

“Twilight!” Dash hovered over. “You did it! You did the whole thing, perfectly!”

Twilight spoke, her voice weary. “Not yet... I... haven’t...” Her horn glowed, and a set of three scrolls hovered nearby. They were ripped along the edges and stained with water droplets.

Dash snatched them up and turned to the crowd of curious onlookers.

“Everypony, please! Is there a mathematician in the crowd?”

A hoof lifted up from the crowd. “Yes, actually! I was a university professor!”

“Me too! I teach college level calculus!”

Dash watched as several other ponies raised their hooves above the crowd. There were at least a dozen volunteers.

“Wow... really? Oughta start a club or something.” She cleared her throat and shouted over the crowd. “Everyone meet up by the crash net and form into groups. We’ve got a complex differential equation on the left, trigonometric functions on the right, and vector calculus in the middle...”

One of the professors waved as he approached the netting. “Does that include partial differentiation and multiple integration?”

“Well, uh...” Dash squinted at the scroll. “No wait, not vector calc. I meant...multi-variable calc. Is that right? I think that’s right.”

The three groups of academics gathered to discuss the contents of the scrolls. Dash went to the safety net and helped Twilight climb down. The crowd murmured and whispered, but gave Twilight and her judges plenty of breathing space.

The crowd fell silent as Cheerilee stepped forward and addressed the crowd. “Citizens of Ponyville! We have finished analyzing all three of these scrolls, and I have assessed the judge’s results. It is my opinion as both a grade school teacher and a theoretical particle physicist—that all three of these solutions are completely correct. Including all shown work.”

Dash stared at her in shock. “Seriously!?”

Cheerilee scraped a hoof against the ground, shyly. “Well, it was only to pay the bills for a few years. You know... until I could become a teacher.”

“Wooo!!”Twilight reared up on her hind legs. “I did it! It totally worked!”

The crowd burst into applause.

Spike crossed his arms and cleared his throat. “How was any of that supposed to help?”

“She did it...” A smile crept over Dash’s face. “She really did it!”

“Isn’t that the problem?” said Spike. “She needs one of her spells to fail.”

“Not the spell! I mean the... the whole...” Dash took to the air. “Nevermind all that. Just make sure she gets plenty of sleep tonight! I’ll be back first thing in the morning!”

“Back?” Spike glanced at Twilight just as the crowd hoisted her into the air and carried her along. He looked at Dash. “Back from what?”

Dash called back as she left, her voice fading out. “I need to find somepony who can build a kayak that can turn into a hang glider!”

%i%: Twilight solves for X... TREME!!

4: Twilight solves for X... TREME!!

“Adversity causes some men to break; others to break records.”

William Arthur Ward

Princess Celestia cast open the window to her bedchambers and breathed deeply of the crisp, morning air. She took a moment to admire the distant golden nimbus that blanketed the horizon.

Ahh... the sweet satisfaction of a job well done!

She stepped out through the sliding glass doors and onto her private balcony. She walked to the lone patio table and folded up the umbrella, basking in the clear blue sky.

“No rain today, dear sister?”

Celestia turned in time to see Princess Luna alight on the railing, perfectly balanced. She hopped down and joined her at the table.

Celestia poured her a cup of tea. “These days, Canterlot relies entirely on irrigation to hydrate it’s lawns and gardens. I fear we have very few downpours... and only then to wash the streets and houses clean. At regularly scheduled intervals, of course.”

“Thou art missing out, dear sister. A natural rainstorm is one of the most beautiful elements of nature... very restful.”

Celestia gazed out over the rooftops. Her smile faded. “Are you still finding it difficult to sleep?”

Luna gazed into her teacup. “In truth... yes. But not so difficult as before.”

“I could arrange for some rain here in Canterlot, you know. Would it make you feel more at home?”

“Rain?” Luna said. “In Canterlot? Unannounced? Surely the Lawn and Garden Association would stir itself to rebellion over such an abuse of royal power!”

“Oh pish-posh,” Celestia said, “some healthy natural weather do the city a world of good. And besides... I am owed the occasional exception to the rules, am I not?”

Luna smirked. “Hast thou already exercised thy privileges, recently? Mayhaps regarding a certain Canterlonian Convention?”

“I had nothing to do with that.” Celestia rolled her eyes. “Though I was sorely tempted. The only thing every attendant can agree upon is what a horrendous waste of time it is. Some traditions are worth upholding. Others, though...”

“Thou couldst... cancel it next year. Or perhaps forever more.” Luna lifted her cup and took a sip. “Then we could have tea every year.”

“That would be marvelous. I’ve never had much time to myself. But neither have I needed it... until now.” Celestia gazed at the golden cityscape. “We simply must spend more time together. I was thinking every week, in fact... with a little help, Alectryon should be able to manage Sundays for me.”

“Every week?” Luna looked up from her teacup, bewildered. “Sister? Dost thou truly mean that?”

“Of course I do. I’ve missed you so.” Celestia took up her own cup. “And it has been brought to my attention that neglect has an ugly habit of tarnishing even the longest friendship.”

Luna’s smile widened. “You actually read those ‘friendship reports’ of hers?”

“I wouldn’t have asked for them in the first place if I weren’t genuinely interested in the results. They aren’t solely for the enrichment of my student.” Celestia set her cup down. “Just... mostly. She’s grown by leaps and bounds, you know. She has the same week off that we do, and I’ve heard she’s actually attempting to have fun!”

Luna rolled her eyes as she took another sip.

Celestia leaned on the table. “Oh and what was that about?”

“This Twilight Sparkle: we have met her. Studied her. She is a formidable opponent and a steadfast friend, but as regards to the having of fun... she is somewhat of a stick in the mud.”

Celestia set her teacup down and fixed her with a mischievous smile. “Would my little sister be willing to make a wager?”

“A wager? What sort?”

“I’ll bet you that my student is, as we speak, enjoying herself.”

Luna glanced at the horizon. “At six o’clock in the morn? Are you sure?”

“Winner has to do the loser’s laundry. For a week. Take it or leave it.”

Luna grinned. “Accepted! I shall wager that your student is doing something studious. Book work, or some kind of research.”

“And I shall wager she’s doing something fun.”

Luna lifted a hoof. “But it has to be something beyond her comfort zone. Swimming, board games, a music recital... but if she is amusing herself with books or research, it doesn’t count.”

“I accept!” Celestia’s horn glowed, and an oval-shaped mirror in a golden frame hovered over to their table. “Mirror, mirror, by the table... show us both my student faithful.”

Luna watched the surface of the mirror as it rippled and swirled. “You can use this to see her? Anytime?”

“As long as she’s within any of Equestria’s cities or villages, yes. I use it in case of emergencies... those she cannot resolve herself, at least.”

“But what if thy pupil is taking a bath or something?”

“Oh, especially then. You have no idea what happens when she tries to read in the tub.” She reached for a decorative element of the frame and twisted it like a knob. “Almost... and... there we go.”

The two sisters peered at the mirror as the picture cleared. They saw a deep winding canyon spanned by a narrow metal bridge. The view closed in on the bridge, where a crowd of colorful ponies had gathered. Twilight Sparkle was in the middle of that crowd, sitting in a purple-and-blue kayak and wearing a bulky backpack. She thrust her front hooves skyward and gave what appeared to be an energetic yell. The crowd cheered as two of her friends pushed her off the bridge, kayak and all. After a few seconds, a curved rectangular parachute billowed out: Twilight drifted down through the canyon, weaving around several rocky pillars and passing through a series of ring-shaped clouds.

Luna glanced at her sister. She looked back at the mirror just as Twilight reached the bottom of the canyon. She took out a double-sided oar and detached her parafoil, dropping several yards into the rushing whitewater below. She sped through the rapids, crashing against boulders and hurtling down short waterfalls. She plunged into pools and rolled upside-down frequently, gasping for breath whenever she surfaced. The mirror didn’t reproduce any sound at all, but she seemed to be yelling at the top of her lungs all the while.

Luna looked to her sister. “Didst thou set this up? To win a bet?”

Celestia stared at the picture and numbly shook her head.

Luna watched as Twilight sailed out of the canyon and hurtled over the edge of a six-hundred yard waterfall. The kayak split down the middle, and an internal mechanism unfolded into a hang-glider... which Twilight was hanging from upside-down.

“Dost thou require manual hoof-washing for thine most delicate garments? We have heard much of this... dry cleaning... since our return.”

Twilight tilted the hang glider using only the weight of her body. It had been absolutely necessary to anchor the kayak to her lower legs from the very beginning, so the mechanism within had been designed around a number of limitations... most of which now forced her to hang from the glider upside down, with both hind legs clamped into place. She shifted her weight to one side and the hang glider tilted. She stared at the aspen mountain range ahead of her, and the wide slope of glittering snow that ran through the middle of the evergreen forest.

Come on, Twilight... this is the easy part. Focus on the task in front of you.

She took up a scroll and scanned the contents, trying to ignore the huge flock of pegasus in her peripheral vision. They were following at a safe distance, watching in awe.

“Thaaat’s right, fillies and gentlecolts!” Dash shouted from above through a megaphone. “Ponyville’s very own Twilight Sparkle has only forty seconds left to invent a magic spell that utilizes the P.C.F. theory. It’s a mathematical theory first introduced thirty-four years ago, by Salerno Shelah! I’m sure I don’t need to explain this to you extreme math geeks but, for all the rest of you lamers, P.C.F. stands for ‘possible cofinalities’! It’s a theory that deals with the cofinality of the ultraproducts of ordered sets... and I do mean ultraproducts! It gives strong upper bounds on the cardinalities of power sets of singular cardinals... but it’s got plenty of other totally radical applications as well!”

Twilight clenched her jaw as she tried to keep the wind from affecting her penmareship. The math was challenging enough, but the problem itself was a secondary concern. The real challenge was designing the spell. From scratch.

She glanced ahead as an ice-covered mountainside loomed closer. She spared a few mental cycles for adjusting her trajectory and swept low over the snow-covered slope. She bit down on a nearby cable and yanked as hard as she could. Her glider’s left wing fell away, sending her into a downward spiral. She flipped the remaining wing up and snapped it into position: The body of the glider was now a smooth surfboard, and the remaining wing became a vertical sail. The transformation completed just as she landed on the snow: she reared up on her hind legs, hooked a forehoof around a support bar and proceeded to windsurf down the snowy range.

“Looks like she’s entered the end-game, folks! She’s finished inventing her spell—completely on the fly—but she’ll need it to deal with some seriously entangled linear orders! That’s right, folks... it’s set theory! It’s time to find out, once and for all, if Twilight Sparkle truly is a subset of the set of things that are totally awesome!”

Twilight scribbled notes on the surface of her parasail, but looked up as she noticed Rainbow Dash going into a dive. Her prismatic contrail skimmed over the mountainside behind her, generating a disc-shaped blast of light right over the snow. Twilight’s heart thumped in her chest as a deep crackle of ice and snow echoed back... the snow behind her broke apart and tumbled down.

There’s no time to proof everything out. I’ll just have to try the spell and see if it works!

Twilight’s horn glowed as she focused on her spellcasting, but the avalanche caught up with her long before the spell took form. By the time it reached her, it was a steep wave. Twilight struggled to keep her windsurfing board steady, but the force tore the vertical wing out of it’s struts. Twilight kept up on her hind legs and continued surfing by balance alone. The avelanche picked up speed and curled over itself, just like a real tidal wave.

Come on... just cast it! It’s supposed to fail! If you totally mess it up, nopony will think any less of you. Twilight closed her eyes for a moment as she sculpted the magic in her mind. The churning cascade of snow faded out of focus. The cheering of the pegasus spectators above was dull and muted.

Celestia trusted me to do my very best. I can’t fail... I won’t! She opened her eyes, and a shock of purple light illuminated the pristine white snow around her.

I won’t!!

Rainbow Dash gasped as the wave of snow grew in size. “Dude, no way... she’s goin’ for the tube!”

“The tube?” Fluttershy said as she struggled to keep pace. “What’s that?”

Dash pointed at the growing wave. “See there? It’s big enough and fast enough that it’s forming a fully enclosed cylinder... and she’s gonna surf inside it!”

“I didn’t even know snow could do that! Is it a good thing?”

“No, it’s an awesome thing... but only if she’s mare enough to pull it off!”

They watched as Twilight disappeared into the tumbling, churning tide. The glow from her horn lit the wave from within, shimmering against the icy surface. The tube lengthened until it spanned the width of the entire slope. Each end was pressed against the wall of evergreen trees.

“Is... is that good?” Fluttershy said. “If the trees are blocking each end of the tube, then... how is she supposed to get out?”

Dash stared at the avalanche for a moment. She went into a dive, but hesitated as she scanned the length of the gargantuan wave. Twilight could have been inside it anywhere. There was no way to tell.

All at once, the avalanche collapsed. The perfect vortex of snow fell into a heap of powder and frozen chunks, sliding down the slope in a heap. A tidal wave of water was dangerous enough... but ice and snow was heavy. Nopony could have survived such a disaster... nopony else, at least.

Come on, Twi. You’ve got your magic. Any second now, there’s gonna be a force field or something. You can just wink out, can’t you? Anything at all!

Fluttershy tapped her shoulder and pointed behind them. “Dash! Look over there!”

Rainbow Dash spun around just as Twilight’s surfboard slipped out of the tree cover, much further down the mountain. The crowd of spectators gathered close and cheered as she slid to a casual halt. Almost the entire population of Ponyville had gathered to watch her stunt. Nopony was going away disappointed. All the rest of Twilight’s close friends had gathered around. Fluttershy shot ahead and gave Twilight a warm hug.

Dash drifted over at a slower pace, slackjawed. “You left the tube by going into the forest?”

Twilight grinned as she gasped for breath.“Well, where else was I supposed to go?”

“But... the trees! They could have been more dangerous than getting stuck in the snow! You didn’t hit any of them at all?”

“It was simple physics,” Twilight said as she unbuckled her boots. “I’ve got an algorithmic pathfinding spell for just such an occasion. Well, maybe not just such an occasion... I’ve never had to use it before.”

Dash landed beside her, awestruck. “Twilight... that was by far the most awesome math problem I have ever seen!”

“Wow! You really think so?” Twilight gave her a tight hug. “We totally have to do this more often! I’ve never had so much fun outside of a library!”

Applejack stepped forward. “Now whoa there... just hold onna minute! How in the hey did you do all that just now? We all saw you during winter wrap up, and—no offence intended, of course—you were a total klutz! You couldn’t even ice-skate worth a fig! And now this!?”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Twilight said. “Really, the math was the hardest part by far. The whole athletic challenge was just sort of... tacked on.”

Applejack cocked her head. “You mean the parachuting to the bottom of Slammin’ Canyon, while avoiding all those rocky pillars?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes, that.”

Fluttershy stepped forward. “What about kayaking down the whitewater rapids at the bottom?”

Twilight nodded. “And that.”

“Ooh, ooh!” Pinkie Pie said. “What about hang-gliding off of the waterfall, while upside-down?”

Twilight clenched her teeth. “That, too, was tacked on.”

Rarity tossed her mane aside. “And what about...”

“Yes it was all tacked on!” Twilight snapped. “The snowboarding down a mountainside and surfing along an avalanche was also tacked on.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “...The spellcasting. How did the spellcasting go?”

Twilight’s head lowered, and her ears drooped. “It... worked.”

Dash collapsed. “I can’t believe it. That was the most extreme thing I’ve ever seen a non-pegasus do, and it still didn’t work! I’m gonna have to clean up all this snow for nothing...” She scraped at the glittery white powder.

Applejack stepped over to Twilight and lifted her head up.

“We’re all going to go back to the library together. Then we’re going to get you a mug of hot cocoa. And then we’ll all discuss this together like good friends.”

Twilight’s legs wobbled and her eyes faded in and out of focus. “That’d be great! I bet!”

“Uh oh,” Dash said. “Looks like the adrenaline’s wearing off.”

Applejack winced. “How about we have this talk tomorrow. Give you some time to recuperate.”

The next day, Applejack opened the door to the library and walked inside. “Morning, sunshine! Sleep well?”

She glanced about the main room. Apart from the giant mechanical pillar, the place was empty. The rest of her friends followed her inside and searched the room.

“This is odd,” Fluttershy said, “she always opens the library on time. You don’t think she slept in, do you?”

“It’s possible,” Rarity said, “But Spike isn’t here either. He’s always sure to take care of the place whenever Twilight is indisposed.”

Dash rolled her eyes. “She’s probably exhausted after yesterday. I’ve seen this sort of thing before: a pony does something too awesome for her own good, and it goes straight to their head.” Dash hovered up to the second level and went into Twilight’s bedroom area.

“Last night was pretty rough on her,” Applejack called up. “Should we just give her a few more hours?”

Dash zipped back. “She’s gone!”

Applejack turned to her friends. “Come on, girls. It’s time for a posse.”

Twilight twisted around in her heavy cable harness and reached for the next rocky crag. The razor sharp crampons attached to her horseshoes gripped the cliffside perfectly, but a few bits of gravel broke free and tumbled down.

Don’t look down, Twilight. Never look down.

Instead, she looked up... up at the searing noon-day sun as it peeked over the edge of the clifftop. The light made it impossible to see the top of the cliff clearly... but she knew it was there. She reached up and grabbed the next hoof-hold, climbing a few inches at time.

“You okay up there, Miss Sparkle?”

Twilight glanced down at her climbing buddy: an elderly, pencil necked stallion with a faded chestnut coat. His over-sized glasses had been fitted with elastic sport-frames.

“I’m fi—” Her heart raced as she looked beyond him, and the long drop to the ground.

You’re fine, Twilight. Tell him you’re fine.

“I’m fine, Golden Horatio.”

“Wanna go over to the left? Seems like a good spot for a heel hook!”

“No. Now that I’m up here, I can see some pretty good ridges. Straight up would be quicker.” She shifted her weight to her other hoof. “A left climb would certainly be easier, though! how are you holding up?”

“So far, so good!” He said and gave a wheezy laugh. “This might sound weird, but I spent twenty years as a professor. I always used to dream about having an exciting retirement.”

“What’s weird about that?”

“Ever since we started the climb, all I can think about is statistical self-similarity! There are some amazing structural stress formations in the rocks here!”

“I told you it would focus your mind!” Twilight said with a smile. She raised her voice and called to the ground below. “Belay?”

Rocky Road’s voice echoed up from the foot of the cliff, her voice clear and resonant. “Belay on!”

“Climbing!” Twilight shouted back. “Come on, old-timer. Let’s see if you can keep up!”

“We’ll just see about that, youngster!”

Twilight hauled herself up, inch by inch. The upper ridges were indeed a quicker climb, but exhausting: the hoof holds were spaced just a little too far apart. Her support cable whipped and scraped against the stone, never offering more than a few feet of slack. At last, she set her hoof on the top of the cliffside. She set both forelegs on the top and rested her chin on them.

A hoof reached down for her. “Thanks,” said Twilight. She reached up and locked ankles with the helper, climbing the rest of the way up.

“Twi?”

Twilight blinked as she realized whose hoof she’d taken. Applejack gave her a scrutinizing squint, glancing between her heavy harness and her sweat-drenched face.

“Oh hey.” Twilight wiped her nose. “How’d you get up here?”

Applejack stepped sideways and pointed at a caged stairwell that had been bolted into the cliffside. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy landed nearby just as Pinkie Pie and Rarity finished climbing the stairs.

“Ah think you owe us all an explanation.”

“You waited all day for that?” Twilight said. “Why not just ask Dash or Rarity? They know all about it already.”

“Oh, no you don’t... I want to hear this straight from the horse’s mouth. I’m not even sure if you’ve given either of them the whole story. Leastwise, not in a way they can make any sense of.”

“Look, this is just... it’s not what it looks like. Really.”

Pinkie Pie peered over the edge. “It looks like you’re having fun!”

“She’s trying to test a new spell,” said Dash, “under stressful conditions. But if your last stunt didn’t work, plain old rock-climbing definitely won’t.”

“Actually, the rock climbingis just for fun.”

Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie both looked up, wide eyed.

Twilight shrugged. “Remember the math judges from yesterday? Well, they wanted to give it a try themselves. I figured we could start them off easy.”

“That bunch of old fogies?” Dash said. “You expect them to start off with rock climbing!?”

“No,” Twilight said. She paused to take a drink from her water bottle. “They’re starting off with fractal geometry.”

“Hey, Twi! Nice climb!”

“Yeah, took you long enough!”

All six of them turned to see a small group of elderly ponies gathered around a picnic table. The table was covered in scrolls, abaci, coiled cables, slide rulers, and bottles of water.

“You can start without me!” Twilight called out, then turned back to her friends. “So it turns out that at some point, about thirty years ago, Ponyville was considered one of the best retirement villages and a lot of professors and scientists settled down here. Who’d have thought?”

Dash muttered under her breath. “When I said you should start a club, I was talking about a math club.”

“Oh, that’s what this is. The rock climbing is just sort of... tacked on.”

“But this is dangerous! You don’t know anything about rock-climbing!”

“Well, that’s why we hired Rocky Road. She’s a professional, and she does all our belaying.” Twilight took another sip from her bottle. “Seriously, Dash... you have no idea what sort of mental concentration it provides!”

“Focus...?” Dash’s sour expression faded and one of her ears perked up. “That makes perfect sense!”

“It does?” Applejack said.

“The sense of danger actually focuses her magical ability!” said Dash. “Remember the ursa minor? Remember the story of how she hatched Spike from his egg, and accidentally grew him to the size of a tower? And when she repaired the dam, disguised as the Mysterious Mare Do Well? What do all of these things have in common?”

The others looked at her, blankly.

“They were all... urgent?” Fluttershy whispered.

“Exactly! And not just regular urgent, but save-the-day urgent!” Dash pointed at Twilight. “Your magic must be strongest when it really matters. When everything is on the line!”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “You mean all those stunts actually made my magic stronger?”

“Stronger, better, faster, easier... all of the above!” Dash flopped down and sat on her hind quarters. “I gave you the exact wrong advice. I made things worse.”

Appleack turned to Twilight. “But don’t you want your magic to work better? Isn’t that a good thing?”

Dash rolled on her back with a frustrated sigh. “Not this again.”

Twilight set her bottle aside. “Dash, seriously. The presence of danger may focus my thoughts, but that doesn’t mean it will affect my magical ability.”

“Hey, Twilight!”

“Golden Horatio!” Twilight ran to the edge of the cliff. “Hey, there! How’s the fractal geometry going!”

“Interesting! You really ought to see this crevasse! It looks like... like a...”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“That’s... not...” The elderly pony’s voice sharpened. “Falling! Gonna fall soon!”

Twilight turned to the anchor piton that had kept their cables secure. The cable was fine. The piton was fine. She looked down at the rocky ground under her hooves.

What did he say before, about structural stress formations?

Twilight ran to the edge of the cliff and shouted down to Rocky road. “Get everypony away! The whole cliff is about to—”

The mane six flinched as a deep crack thundered across the cliff. A huge chunk of the clifftop shifted under their hooves and dropped a few inches. Dash and Fluttershy immediately took to the air. The rockslide broke free, and the rest of them were swept over the edge.

Twilight’s mind raced as she entered freefall. The two-hundred foot drop was bad enough. Fluttershy and Dash might be able to save two of them if they were especially quick. Dash certainly would be... but Fluttershy was a tough call. What if she’d fainted, and needed rescuing herself?

I’ll just have to teleport them all as soon as I can. Twilight watched Pinkie Pie and Applejack as they tumbled through the air above her. No... wait. I can use a feather-fall spell. Much easier. Even without line of sight, I should be able to affect every living thing within a hundred meters. Perfect. That should be...

Twilight tensed as she remembered Golden Horatio, Rocky Road, and the dozen other ponies below them. She watched as fifty tonnes of rock plummeted all around her, hurtling towards the helpless gathering below.

There must be something I can do! Some way to...

The pupils of her eyes shrank to tiny dots. Her horn flared with light.

Huh. Worth a try.

Applejack opened one eye and looked around. She, Twilight and Rarity were all drifting to the ground like feathers. Dash and Fluttershy were carrying Pinkie Pie between them: Dash let go, and Fluttershy carried her effortlessly.

“What the hey!?” Applejack glanced around. “What happened to the giant boulder?”

Twilight swam through the air with limited success. “I winked it away.”

“How was that possible? That thing was huge!”

“It was a little tricky, sure. I just... closed the gap.”

They reached the ground, and the sense of lightness faded. The elderly rock climbers watched as her close friends rushed to her side.

“...Closed the gap?” Applejack tilted her head. “What does that even mean?”

“It’s a magical term. You see, it’s very difficult to wink other objects or ponies... it’s much easier when you’re just winking yourself, so I fooled the spell into thinking I was the boulder and that the boulder was me.”

Applejack stared in awe. “How is that even possible?”

Twilight turned to one side: her cutie mark was now a picture of a grey boulder.

“And then I used an ‘Instant Inscribing’ spell to draw a picture of my cutie mark onto the boulder.” She nodded to her own flank. “I should go back to normal in a few minutes.”

“Ooh!” One of the elderly unicorns said. “Excellent use of the Law of Sympathy!”

“Thanks!” Twilight said, blushing slightly. “It was something I sort of just threw together.”

Dash’s ear twitched. “While you were falling to your doom?”

“I suppose so,” Twilight said. “Wow. I guess it really is a great mental focus.”

“But the boulder!” said Rarity. “Why didn’t it reappear?”

“Oh, that... I didn’t really give it a specific destination. I used a pseudo-random number spell to send it away.”

“You mean it could be anywhere?” said Rarity. ”Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I know,” Twilight said, abashed. “It’s a really irresponsible way to use magic. But my friends were in danger! It was all I could think of!”

Dash gave her a pat on the back. “Don’t worry about it, Twi. You did the right thing.”

Rarity stepped forward. “I won’t argue with that, but exactly how random was it?”

“Almost completely. It could be anywhere in Equestria now...” Twilight gazed up at the sky. “I guess we’ll never know for sure.”

Bea took a deep breath and stepped away from the worktable, wiping a hoof across her brow. The carpentry garage was sweltering hot, and the wind that came in through the windows provided only fleeting and intermittent moments of cool relief. The floor was covered with a thick layer of curly wooden chips and the air was thick with dust that glittered like gold in the sunlight.

Bea looked back at her worktable and examined the wooden plank she’d been sanding for the last half hour. She ran her hoof along it’s surface and savoured the grain. She felt no impatience. No frustration. The long, repetitive task had a meditative feel to it.

She hung up her tools and swept the floor clean. She used an actual broom, and she even held it against her shoulder like an earth pony would. It didn’t even bother her anymore. When she was finished, she stepped outside and dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. By the time she’d walked across the field and reached the cottage—the only real house in the lumber yard—the sun had dried her coat off.

“Hello?” she said as she opened the door. “May I come in?”

Mrs Rafter came over and opened the door for her. “Oh, what have I told you, dear? You’re always welcome here! Sit yourself down and have some lemonade. And I have a few crumpets left over.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Bea said as she sat down, “but I’m sure Mister Rafter would prefer it if I knocked first.”

“You live here, don’t you?”

“I’m only renting the attic.” She glanced about. “Why? Did he say anything about me? Am I in trouble?”

“Hm? Oh, that. Finish your snack first, dear.”

Bea watched as her hostess puttered about the kitchen. She sipped at her lemonade and nibbled at a crumpet, but she wasn’t particularly hungry.

“Where is Mister Rafter? I should really go see him.”

“He’s in the garage, deary. You sure you won’t finish your snack? I have some homemade peach cobbler, if you’d prefer. A whole pan, fresh from the oven!”

“No, ma’am. But thank you, ma’am.”

“Alright, then. If you insist. I’ll pack some up for you to take with you.”

She stood up and bent her front knees in a quick little curtsey. What’s going on here? She went through entryway and knocked on the door to the garage.

“Excuse me? Mister Rafter?”

“Land sakes girl, just come on in. You live here, don’t you?”

Bea’s eyes widened. “But I’m only renting the attic!”

“You’re under my roof, filly. And that means you live here. Come on in... I need some help moving something out of the way.”

Bea thought back to the first time she’d ever seen him, dragging a pair of giant tree trunks all by himself. “Are you sure, sir? What could I possibly...”

She opened the door and froze in place. Half of the garage was filled with a large, one-pony carriage. It was a cruiser model built to resemble a home, and the windows and doors reminded her of the very same cottage she’d been living in for the past two months. There was some brass piping here and there, but most of it was fine hardwood.

“It’s just been sittin’ there all evening,” Mister Rafter said. “Think you can take it off my hooves for me?”

Bea turned to him. “You’re just giving it to me!?”

“That was the deal, wasn’t it?” He stood up and gently kicked one of the wheels. “I agreed to make you anything you wanted, as long as you helped build half of it yourself. And as long as you didn’t use any magic at all. And you did. You did the work. You learned the trade.”

“But I don’t remember doing any of this!” Bea said. “I’ve spent the last two months sawing and sanding boards!”

“What exactly did you think I was using them for?” He held up a ring with a pair of metal keys. “Go on, Beatrix.”

“But there’s no way I could afford something like this!”

“It’s not a gift. You’ve earned it... every bit of it. I’ve never once seen a city pony work so hard in all my life.”

“...Even with all the complaining?”

“Aw, fig newtons... we all complain around here! As long as you get the job done, you can complain all you like.” He took her hoof in his own. “You were rough around the edges, but you’ve sanded up real good since. I’ve been glad to have you around. You’re very talented filly, Beatrix.”

Bea sniffled. “Thank you. It’s so wonderful to hear somepony else say it for once.”

“Aw, what’s this now?” He dabbed a handkerchief under her eyes. “Go on and get your stuff from the attic. I think you’ve spent more than enough time in this little ‘backwater hole in the ground,’ haven’t you?”

Bea immediately thought back to her first words to the grizzled carpenter.

“I suppose. But do you think I could visit sometime? Maybe?”

Mister Rafter watched her for awhile. It took some time for a smile to spread over his face. “You’ll always be welcome here. You’ll always be just like family to us.”

Bea leapt up and hugged him tight.

It took less than an hour to move all her things into the carriage. The interior was divided into two small rooms, and the roof was fitted like a balcony. It was smaller and lighter than her previous carriage, and the coach seat had been removed in favor of a larger interior. This was a vehicle that was meant to be pulled by its owner. Bea climbed into the harness without complaint. It felt good to be doing the work all by herself for once... to be self sufficient.

Mister and Missus Rafter waved their goodbyes as she left down the main road. She basked in the cool wind and breathed in the scent of pine needles and tree sap. After two long months of labor, the open road called to her. She reached the edge of the forest and paused to look out across the vast plains of Equestria. The mountainside city of Canterlot was barely visible through the clouds.

Look out, Equestria... here I come!

Bea took a deep breath and stepped forward just as a gargantuan explosion quaked the ground behind her. A cloud of shattered splinters filled the air and pattered against her back. She turned around, slowly, and stared at the jagged boulder that had plummeted out of the sky and crushed her carriage. She sat on her hind-quarters and stared at the wreckage.

What... who... how?

A scattering of personal belongings rained down around her: A box of fireworks, a set of magical books, and a smattering of personal hygiene items. A pointed hat landed on her head and a starry cape drifted down around her shoulders.

Beatrix’s eyes caught a trace of color. There, on the side of the boulder, somepony had inscribed a small pattern: a set of five white stars, arranged around a larger purple star.

“An ‘instant inscription’ spell? Wait a second... I know that cutie mark!” She reared on herhind legs, trembling with rage. “How dare you, Twilight Sparkle! Beatrix swears—No! From this day forth Beatrix is no more! Do you hear me Twilight!? The Great And Powerful Trixie swears that she will have her rev—”

A tinfoil tray of home-made peach cobbler landed on her face, splattering her neck with crumbly breading and sticky juice. She flailed her hooves and fell on her back.

Twilight’s friends watched as she continued to gaze up at the sky for several long seconds.

“That’s right,” she said, “we’ll never know for sure.”

Applejack grabbed Twilight’s safety cable in her mouth and dragged her off.

“Everypony. Library. Now. We’re sortin’ this out once and for all.”

%i%: Pinkie Pie reconciles the deterministic nature of the cosmos with the metaphysical libertarian view of free will.

5: Pinkie Pie reconciles the deterministic nature of the cosmos with the metaphysical libertarian view of free will.

“If you do not create your destiny, you will have your fate inflicted upon you.”

William Irwin Thompson

The six friends sat on the floor of Twilight’s bedroom on a circle of cushions. Rarity poured a mug of hot cocoa for each of them and passed the first mug to Twilight.

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Rarity said as she sat down with the final mug. “If you were rock climbing all morning, then where was Spike? Why wasn’t he minding the library while you were absent?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Did you check the sock drawer?”

“...Pardon?”

“Over here,” Dash said. She pulled open the top drawer of Twilight’s dresser and revealed Spike. He rolled over in his sleep, his spines covered with perforated socks.

Rarity’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen you wear socks. Not once since you’ve arrived.”

Twilight blushed. “Well, I don’t wear them in public.”

“Less socky more talky,” Applejack said. “Tell us what’s going on and start from the very beginning.”

Twilight sighed and levitated the original scroll to her. “This should explain everything.”

“My word,” Applejack said. “I’ve never seen such fancy script! It looks ancient... did the princess teach you this language herself?”

“It’s cursive.”

Applejack tilted her head in awe. “So majestic! It’s like poetry, but with letters!”

Fluttershy lifted a hoof. “I can read it, if you like.”

Applejack passed her the letter. “I never took you for a pony of the world, Fluttershy. You’ll have to tell us how you picked it up, sometime.”

The group watched as Fluttershy unfurled the scroll. Her eyes moved back and forth as she scanned the letter. She sipped at her mug daintily. The faint sound of birdsong drifted in through a nearby window.

Applejack tapped her shoulder, eliciting a startled squeak.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Aren’t you going to read it out loud for the rest of us?”

“Yeah!” said Pinkie Pie. “Some of us haven’t read it yet.”

“Um. Well. I could do that.” Her eyes darted about the room. “But is it okay if I don’t? I’m not good at reading in front of crowds. Or speaking in front of crowds. Or being in front of crowds.”

“But we’re your friends,” Applejack said, “and there’s only five of us.”

“Yes, but when I read out loud to you it makes you seem like a crowd.” She hid her face behind the scroll. “Just a little crowd.”

“Here, let me try! I’ve been practicing my ‘Celestia’ voice for a puppet show!” Pinkie Pie took the letter and cleared her throat. “From the Desk of Princess Celestia. Dear Twilight Sparkle, my most faithful student: I am pleased to hear of your safe return to Ponyville and wish you a swift recovery. However, there is a matter of no small importance: I need somepony to develop a new type of spell to be made publicly available for all, and I can think of nopony better suited to such invention than yourself.

“Unicorns of all levels of experience, from gifted grade schoolers to experimental researchers, are at risk whenever they attempt a spell that is not fully understood. I wish for you to develop a special fail-safe spell that—when cast before another spell—will prevent any unintended consequences that may arise from inexperience or incompetence. Ease of use and versatility are a must: it must be simple enough for even a young filly or colt to use, and it should be equally effective on a wide variety of spells. You may research the spell at your leisure. All I ask is that you send brief weekly reports on your progress. I am sure your unique experiences will be invaluable for this special project.

“On less formal matters, Alectryon is doing quite well and seems to have grown accustomed to his new home. Philomeena also sends her regards, and Luna thanks you for your advice about how to keep the ladybird beetles out of her herb garden. I’ve also included a new prescription for you, since the apothecary has changed the formula of your usual cream. Please let me know if you experience any undue swelling or itching after—”

“No-no-no wait!” Twilight’s horn glowed, and the scroll whipped out of Pinkie Pie’s hooves. “So that’s, uh... yeah. That’s everything.”

Twilight grinned at her friends for a moment.

Rarity looked down at herself. “There’s a cream for that now?”

“So the princess wants you to make a new spell,” Applejack said. “I still don’t see what bungee jumping and hang-gliding has to do with any of that.”

Twilight took a deep breath. “I’ve already finished designing the fail-safe spell. The problem is that I can’t test it because none of my spells ever fail. If my spells never fail, I can’t know for sure if the fail-safe is really working.”

“I think I understand,” said Pinkie Pie. “Why don’t you just make a mistake on purpose?”

“I’ve tried, but that’s not enough. The spell has to be able to catch unintended consequences. I need to test it on a genuine mistake.”

“Well then,” Fluttershy said, “why not invent a spell that’s broken on purpose?”

“That won’t work either,” said Twilight. “An intentionally broken spell has only one purpose: To fail. And when it fails, the fail-safe thinks it succeeded. It did exactly what it was supposed to do: fail.”

“Let’s take a moment to think back,” said Applejack. “Your spells have failed in the past, haven’t they? Remember when you tried to use magic during Winter Wrap up? And that want-it-need-it spell was a terrible disaster.”

Dash nodded. “Celestia showed up herself to fix it.”

“I know... but how am I supposed to reproduce that sort of thing under laboratory conditions?”

“There was that other fail-safe spell you used, when Discord first showed up. That failed, didn’t it?”

“Technically, there was nothing wrong with the ‘fix-everything’ spell. Discord’s magic was just powerful enough to overwhelm it.”

“Well then,” said Pinkie Pie, “why not get somepony else to test it for you? Have Rarity try it out. She’s way dumber than you.”

Everypony looked at Rarity.

“No offense,” said Pinkie Pie.

“None taken. I suppose it’s true, to an extent.”

“Oh, not at all!” said Twilight. “You’re certainly not dumber than me.”

“Well, it’s kind of you to say so.”

“I’m just way smarter than you. Way, way, way... way smarter than you.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “I see.”

“Wow!” Pinkie Pie said. “That’s four ways! So why can’t Rarity test the spell for you? I bet she’d mess it up every time!”

“Seriously,” said Rarity, “I’m not that dumb.”

“Firstly,” Twilight said, “Princess Celestia asked me to test this spell. I’m not going to pass it off to somepony else. She chose me for a reason. Secondly, the fail-safe spell isn’t fully tested yet. It’s still a prototype. There could be all sorts of side effects I haven’t even thought of! Thirdly, if Rarity is truly dumb enough to ruin a basic spell, then she’s also too dumb to know why the fail-safe failed. If she can’t write a proper error report, I won’t know what to fix.”

Rarity looked to the rest of the group. “Do I come off as dumb? Is it something about my voice? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t say you were,” said Twilight. “I only said that if you were dumb enough to help me out, you’d also be too dumb to help me out. It was hypothetical.”

“I can see I’m going to need more hot cocoa for this.” Rarity stood up and went to the kitchen.

Applejack set a reassuring hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “You need to calm down a little. I’m sure Celestia will understand if you—”

Twilight pushed her hoof away. “Don’t you get it? Celestia said that my unique experiences would be invaluable for this special project! What if the failsafe spell is for me? What if she thinks my magic could be dangerous? What if she thinks I’m... irresponsible!?”

Twilight’s friends all looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“Come on, Twi,” Rainbow Dash said. “I think if she doubted your magic, she would have mentioned it by now.”

“Has she mentioned it?” Fluttershy said. “When was the last time she complained about your skills?”

“Never,” Twilight said, “but it’s been a really long time since she said anything encouraging, either!”

Princess Celestia walked into her private chambers and sat at her writing desk. Her maid servant was already waiting for her with a tea trolley, assembling an evening snack.

“Would her highness care for some cranberry jelly with her crumpets?”

“Yes, please. And thank you, Spring Fresh.” Celestia unfurled a fresh sheet of paper. “Were there any letters while I was away?”

“Not a one, your highness. Philomeena hasn’t regurgitated a thing in hours.” The maid set a teacup on her desk. “Are you worried about your student? I hear you gave her quite an assignment recently.”

“Oh, it’s nothing difficult. Not for her, at least. We needed a more reliable failsafe spell for the students going through magic kindergarten. That’s all.”

“Are you sure she won’t blow it out of proportion again? What if she assumes the failsafe spell is for her?”

“Don’t be silly, Spring Fresh. She knows how much I appreciate her! Why just last month, I sent her a letter praising her magical research skills. It was positively glowing with encouragement!” Celestia leaned her head and gazed up and to the left in fond remembrance.

Spike clenched his fists, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. “I am a real dragon!”

“Oh yeah?” said Garble. “Prove it!”

“Well, how?”

“By acting like one.” Garble turned and shouted at the rest of the teenage dragons. “Who’s up for a little belching contest?”

The gang of answered with a raucous cheer that echoed across the crater of the partially extinct volcano. A few of the adult dragons took notice of the challenging roars and watched as the youths prepared to reinforce their own little pecking order. They each stepped forward in turn and exhaled a gout of flame that stank of salt and brimstone. Each blast was larger, longer, and more revolting than the previous one.

Spike wrung his claws. Oh, man! Am I the only dragon who has green fire? Is that normal? Maybe they won’t notice.

Garble jabbed Spike with a talon. “You think you can beat that, pee-wee?”

Spike swallowed a lump in his throat and stepped up. He took a breath, but felt a tickle in his throat at the last second. Oh no... not now! Why did it have to be now!?

He belched out a green wisp of smokeless, pine-scented flame. A neatly wrapped scroll materialized out of thin air and the gang of teenage dragons muttered amongst themselves. Garble snatched up the scroll and broke the sealed ribbon before Spike could say a word.

“From the desk of Princess Celestia. Dear Spike: Please tell—” Garble’s squint of concentration changed to wide-eyed mockery. “Get this, guys! Spike’s pen-pals with a namby-pamby pony princess!”

Spike clenched his teeth and glanced around as the gang laughed and jeered. He winced as Garble crumpled the letter and tossed it into a nearby pool of lava.

Celestia continued to gaze up and to the left, but her smile faded slightly. “Although now that I think back on it, she never did send a response.”

“Good evening, Celestia!” The doors to her private chambers opened wide, and young Princess Namby Pamby stepped in. “I hope I’m not late for tea!”

“Not at all! Please have a seat. How have you been since your graduation?”

“Well it’s only a grade-school graduation of course,” she said, “but I’ve been given a full scholarship and I can’t wait to go into journalism! You were absolutely right: The public school was much more exciting than a private tutor!”

Celestia smiled and nodded to her maid. “That will be all, Spring Fresh. Thank you.”

“See you in the morning your highness,” Spring Fresh said as she pushed the tea trolley along. “And don’t you fret. That student of yours has learned a great deal since she moved to Ponyville. I’m sure she knows this isn’t something to worry about.”

Applejack watched as Twilight hugged herself, trembling with worry.

She’s probably blowin’ this way out of proportion... but what if she isn’t? Remember what happened the last time you brushed her off like nuthin’ was wrong?

Twilight stared at the floor. “I just don’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything I can think of, and all of it worked. I’m at the end of my rope!”

Pinkie Pie hopped in place. “Oh, oh! Are you at the end of your magic rooster-wrangling rope? Do you have any more of that lying around?”

“Pinkie, please. Not now.”

“No, wait,” Dash said. “I think we’ve got something here. Why not have Pinkie Pie distract you in the middle of a spell? Nopony can surprise like she can. It’s her purpose in life.”

“But that wouldn’t be fun!” said Pinkie Pie. “It would be work!”

“Pinkie, we’ve tried everything! Super complicated spells, distracting conditions—”

“Applejack!” Pinkie Pie said. “What about her? She hasn’t come up with any ideas yet! Let’s ask her!”

Twilight nodded to Applejack. “Can you think of anything? Anything at all?”

“Hm...” Applejack leaned her head back and gazed idly upward. “Have you tried...?”

The circle of friends leaned forward as Applejack continued to tilt her head back, still staring at the ceiling.

“Aw, shucks,” she said. “I got nuthin’.”

Twilight fell on her side with an exasperated sigh.

Dash shook her head. “I still think we should get Pinkie Pie to take a shot at it. She was born for this sort of thing.”

“Absolutely not!” Pinkie Pie said. She frowned at Dash without a trace of humor. “My surprises are meant to make ponies happy. I refuse to abuse my special talents in such a way!”

Twilight’s lower lip trembled. “Not even for science?”

“No, no and no, and then some more no. A whole box full of no, wrapped in a big giant bow of no. A no bow! Surprises aren’t science at all. They’re an art.” Pinkie Pie stopped frowning, but her voice remained urgent. “A really good surprise can’t be measured or analyzed. You just have to accept it for what it is, or it turns into an unhappy surprise! No good can come of that!”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “It’s just one little surprise! Can’t you help me out here?”

“A fake surprise!?” Pinkie Pie shot to her feet, furious. “That’s the last thing I’d do to a friend!”

The others stared at her, stunned.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Pinkie Pie stood up and tromped to the kitchen. “Please don’t ask again.”

Twilight watched her leave. She looked to her friends. “Do you think I should—

“Oh yeah,” Applejack said, “and I’d be quick about it if I were you.”

Twilight peered into the kitchen. Pinkie Pie was pouring flour into a large bowl, frowning morosely. Rarity was beside her, pouring spoonfuls of sugar and powdered chocolate into a boiling kettle.

Twilight stepped inside and rubbed her knee against her leg. “Could you give us a minute alone? I need to apologize.”

Rarity smiled at her. “There’s no need, Twilight. I know you didn’t really mean to—”

“Actually, I was hoping to apologize to Pinkie Pie.”

Rarity pursed her lips. She set the kettle on a tray and walked past her. “I scored twenty-one hundred on my S.A.T, you know. I have two degrees. Business management and finance.”

Twilight stepped sideways as she walked past. Pinkie Pie continued to stare into her mixing bowl.

Twilight went to her side. “I’m sorry I tried to pressure you. It’s just that this is really important to the princess.”

“Sugar’s in the third cabinet to the left.”

Twilight opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Her horn glowed and a bag of granulated sugar hovered onto the counter.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“You aren’t doing this because it’s important to Celestia.” Pinkie poured some sugar into a measuring cup. “You’re doing it because it’s important to you.”

“But it must be important to her, or she never would have asked me to help!”

“Sure it is... but that’s not why you’re doing it! It’s the same mistake you always make, over and over.” Pinkie Pie turned to her, mournful. “I would gladly use my gift to help Celestia. But this just seems selfish.”

Twilight looked into her eyes. “I’ve never seen you like this before. Is it really that important to you?”

Pinkie Pie went back to the mixing bowl. “You know about my Pinkie sense, don’t you?”

“How can I not?”

“Well there’s more to it than that.” She nodded to a shelf on the far wall. “Baking pans. Three of ’em. And coat the insides with vegetable grease. The Pinkie sense isn’t something that affects only me. The signs are all around us, and I’m just the only one who can see them. And you know what?”

Twilight shook her head as she greased the pans.

“My sense has never warned me about anything that was entirely my fault.” Pinkie Pie sprinkled flour into the greased pans. “We were meant to make mistakes. It’s our destiny.”

“But I don’t make mistakes.”

“And see what happens? You aren’t learning.” Pinkie Pie added a host of dry ingredients to the mixture, then cracked an egg into a seperate bowl of milk. “You need to let go and learn to make real mistakes instead of fake ones. It’s how we learn. And learning should be fun.”

Twilight sighed. “You’re the only pony I know of who takes fun so seriously.”

Pinkie pie poured the wet bowl into the larger one and took a whisk to it.

“Fun is more powerful than you could ever imagine, Twilight. It’s what gives us hope when all seems lost. It drives us to learn and grow, to laugh and love... it’s what our cutie marks represent.” Her voice took on a profound tone. “The fun is what gives a pony her power. It’s an emotional field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds Equestria together.”

Twilight’s voice was hushed. “What are you saying?”

Pinkie Pie looked at her. “You must listen, Twilight... there is another side to the fun. One side is light and fuzzy... but the other is dark, and covered with lots and lots of tiny plastic hooks. And when these two sides press together, the hooks stick onto the fuzzy stuff. And when you pull it apart, it makes a really scratchy noise.”

“You mean like velcro?”

“Exactly!” Pinkie Pie said. “Fun is exactly like velcro! I could play with it for hours. I love that sound! Scrrritch! Scrrritch! Scrrritch!”

Twilight closed her eyes and tapped the bridge of her nose. “If you didn’t want to help me, you could have just said so.”

“Oh, I can help you.” Pinkie Pie poured the batter into each of the baking pans and turned the oven on. “Just not directly. If you’re going to engineer a mistake on purpose, you need to do it properly. You need to tempt fate.”

“...Fate?”

“You need to do something so utterly outrageous, so deeply and deliciously audacious, that fate will have no choice but to make everything go horribly wrong. You need to throw a pie in fate’s face, blow a raspberry at it, then put a great big bullseye on your flank and bend over.” Pinkie Pie opened the oven and set the trays on the middle rack. “It’s like... if you’re trying to juggle eggs by yourself, in the privacy of your own backyard, nothing will go wrong. But if you juggle those same exact eggs while standing on a priceless imported carpet, you’re at a huge disadvantage. And if all your friends are watching you, just waiting for you to embarrass yourself, it doesn’t matter how good a juggler you are. Those eggs are going to go splat. You’re destined for slapstick!”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Twilight sighed and trudged to the door. “Thanks for nothing. I’m sorry for whatever I was going to apologize for. Good luck with your cake.”

Pinkie Pie rushed over before she could leave the kitchen. “Why don’t you believe me? Think about the things we’ve done, and all the things that have happened to us! We live charmed lives, the six of us: bizarre, weird, wonderful lives! Sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes hilarious! How can you not believe in destiny?”

“I understand that there are some things we just have to accept,” said Twilight. “But this is just too much. I’m sorry.”

Pinkie Pie took a deep breath and returned her gaze.

“All right.”

Twilight’s ears perked up. “What?”

“I’ll prove that fate exists. If it will make you believe, then I’ll show you. Just this once.” She pointed a hoof in her face. “But in exchange, you’ll never ask me to prove it again. And you never get to make fun of it. You can make fun of anything else you like. But not this.”

Twilight stared at her hoof. “Well, all right. But how are you going to prove it?”

Pinkie Pie licked a lock of Twilight’s hair and held it up, testing the wind. She took out a tiny tuning fork and struck it against her horn, listening to the perfect note.

“Aaaaaahh. Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do...” She cleared her throat and raised her voice. “Oh, my goodness gracious! I’ve almost finished baking some birthday cakes for the orphanage in Cloudesdale, but there’s a terrible storm warning and all the mail offices are closed! However will the cakes arrive in time for the birthday party?”

Twilight opened her mouth to speak, but Pinkie Pie put a hoof against her lips.

Pinkie took out a stopwatch. “Five. Four. Three.” She mouthed the last two numbers silently, then pointed ahead. A crash shook the treehouse and a clatter of books fell from the shelves in the next room.

Pinkie Pie smirked. “Am I good, or what?”

Twilight rushed into the main hall and saw Rainbow Dash on the floor, hugging her wing.

“Dash! What have I told you about flying in the library!?”

“Sorry, Twi! I just got so bored waiting for you, I decided to show Fluttershy a new trick I’ve been working on. I guess it got a little out of hoof.” She winced, and her left wing twitched. “This sprain is gonna keep me grounded all day! Why does this always happen to me?”

Pinkie Pie came in and gasped at the mess. “Oh, goodness me! Just when I needed a brave and athletic pegasus to deliver a batch of cakes to the Cloudsdale orphanage! Whatever shall I do?”

“You’re kidding me!” Dash said. “Fluttershy will just have to deliver them all by herself. There’s no other way!”

Twilight arched an eyebrow. “There are plenty of other pegasus in town. We could—”

Pinkie Pie clamped a hoof over her mouth. “Rainbow Dash is right! Fluttershy will just have to deliver them all by herself. There’s no other way!”

Fluttershy recoiled in horror. “But it’s stormy season! I’m not a good enough flyer! And I never fly between cities alone!”

“Wait. What?” Twilight turned to Pinkie Pie. “There’s a real storm warning? Didn’t you just make that up?”

Dash sighed. “Sorry, Pinkie Pie. I guess those cakes aren’t going anywhere.”

“But they’re birthday cakes!” Pinkie Pie said. “There’s no point if they’re a day late!”

Fluttershy dropped to the floor and took a deep breath. “I have to try. Those orphans will get a happy birthday if it’s the last thing I do!” She went to the front door and glanced back. “I’ll go get my cold weather gear and be back in an hour to pick up the cakes.”

Pinkie Pie smiled brightly. “I’ll have ’em covered in icing and gumdrops before you know it!”

“Hey,” Dash said with a smile, “I knew you had it in you, Fluttershy. Really.”

Fluttershy swallowed a lump in her throat. “That makes one of us, at least.” She opened the door and left the library.

Pinkie Pie dragged Twilight to the entrance and waved at Fluttershy. “I’m sure you’ll do fine! Remember to overcome some sort of personal limitation or character flaw while you're out there! And maybe learn something about friendship while you’re at it!”

Twilight stared at Fluttershy as she walked down the street. She turned to Pinkie Pie, slack jawed. Pinkie was still waving and grinning.

“How—”

Pinkie Pie’s shining smile snapped into a piercing glower. Twilight froze as they locked eyes.

“You’ll never ask me to do this again,” Pinkie Pie said. “And you’ll never make fun of it.”

Twilight watched her march down the road. A gust of cool wind buffeted the branches of her treehouse. A single icy raindrop landed on her nose. Ponies rushed indoors and shuttered their windows as dark clouds roiled above.

Rainbow Dash watched as Twilight came back into the library. She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it.

“You okay there? You might want to batten down the hatches, and all that. Storm warning and all.”

Twilight stared ahead. Dash followed her gaze, but she didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular.

“Twi? Something wrong?”

“I gotta go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“I have to find a shop or a warehouse full of fine china dinnerware. I need to practice juggling a whole bunch of bowling balls.”

Dash watched as Twilight threw on a rain cloak and left the library.

Applejack came in from the next room. “You okay there, R.D.?”

“Oh, sure... It’s just a sprain. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” She nodded to the exit. “Hey, do you think maybe Twilight is taking this a little too seriously?”

“She takes everything too seriously. If you ask me, she could stand to learn a little something from Pinkie Pie. Might lighten her up a little.”

%i%: Pinkie Pie wins a pickled-onion eating contest.

6: Pinkie Pie wins a pickled-onion eating contest.

“The line between failure and success is so fine that we scarcely know when we pass it: so fine that we are often on the line and do not know it.”

Elbert Hubbard

Twilight threw open the doors of the dark warehouse and stood framed in the light. She walked inside, and the glow from her horn illuminated the grid of tall shelves to each side. She gazed up at the rows and columns of fine bone china on display. There were thousands of items: Priceless tea sets, stacks of gold-trimmed dinnerware, and kitschy statues of birds and princess ponies. The delicate white and blue porcelain gleamed in the deep purple light.

Twilight came to a halt and admired her surroundings.

Spike came up beside her, pulling a little red wagon with a towel over it. “I have your balls here. Are you sure about this?”

Her horn glowed and the towel swept away, revealing a stack of bowling balls. Their surfaces were a marbled mixture of white and purple streaks, like evening storm clouds. She lifted one of the balls and gave it a discerning look.

“Yes... perfect.” She nodded to Spike. “Wait outside. I need to be alone for this.”

“Are you sure you’re sure about this?” He pointed at the wagon. “They seem pretty big.”

“Bigger is better, actually.” She lifted a second bowling ball and scrutinize it closely. “Smaller props are more difficult to grab. The literature suggests I should start with two balls, for starters.”

“But don’t most ponies juggle three at a time?”

“I’m going to focus on even numbers for now. And that means my balls have to come in pairs.” She hefted the pair a few times, testing their weight. “I’ll practice grabbing one pair first, then add additional pairs as I improve.”

Spike looked around the warehouse. “And what exactly do you expect to happen?”

“Nothing.” Twilight rolled her eyes and raised her voice. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Twilight and Spike both looked around the warehouse in mild anticipation.

“Did you have to do that?” Spike said.

“For science.” She turned away and hefted her balls into position. “Leave me, Spike. I need to be alone for this.”

“Twilight, seriously!” Spike pointed at the wagon. “I know you’ve got a lot of balls here, but you’re just begging for trouble!”

Twilight turned away and remained silent.

Spike sighed and left the warehouse. Twilight waited until he closed the door behind him. The darkness closed in, and the glow from her horn cast a forest of sharp shadows across the walls and roof.

Twilight cleared her throat and raised her voice. “It’s time for me to learn how to juggle! I’ve never tried it before, but I’ve got a new juggling spell that should take care of everything. What could possibly...”

Her voice trailed off. She glanced about the shadowy corners of the warehouse, and her knees trembled slightly. She swallowed a lump in her throat.

“What could... possibly go wrong?”

Her horn glowed brighter as the juggling spell took effect. The two balls hurled into the air in a natural, parabolic arc. As they fell to the ground, a ripple of light pushed them to the side and hurled them up again. Twilight watched as the balls bounced back and forth in a steady cascade. Except for her breath and the slight whipping of air, the warehouse was deathly silent.

Her eyes flicked back and forth as she counted the throws. At fifty, she took another pair from the wagon. The spell hurled them higher and faster to make room for the added props. So far so good. Another fifty throws passed, and another pair flowed into the cascade. Six became eight... and eight became ten. By now, the arc was only a few feet short of the roof.

“Well look at that. It works. I sure...” Twilight swallowed. “I sure hope nothing... happens.”

She glanced around the warehouse.

“Because this is my brand new juggling spell. That I’ve never tested before. And it requires complete concentration to keep it going.”

Twilight watched the cascade. She took the last pair of balls from the wagon and held them at the ready. She watched the cascade, waiting for just the right moment. The props were moving so quickly that there was very little space between them. The longer she tried to track them, the more they seemed to blur together.

She slipped the last two props into the cycle and the spell hurled them up into the rafters. There was a metallic rhythm as they scraped the roof, shaking loose a smattering of dust.

Twilight watched as the twelve props continued to fly. After a hundred throws, she turned away with a frustrated sigh.

She brought her spell to an end. The bowling balls slammed into the wooden floorboards and shook the nearby shelves. The fine china rattled and clinked, and a few teacups spun on their bases before settling down.

So much for that.

Spike jumped to his feet as Twilight opened the door and stepped out of the warehouse. She trudged along, her head hung low. Spike ran over and followed alongside for a few seconds.

“Did it work?”

Twilight nodded, dejectedly. “It worked.”

Spike watched her walk down the main road, back towards the library. He sighed and shook his head.

Spike glanced over his shoulder at the crowd of burly construction ponies sitting by the road. They were dressed in hard hats, heavy boots and fluorescent orange safety vests. They watched him, quietly.

Spike waved at them. “You boys can get started now. We’re done here.”

The moment of reverence passed. The construction ponies grumbled and went about their business

One of them walked over to Spike and looked down the road. “What was she tryin’ ta do in there, anyway?”

“She needed to test a spell.”

“Oh. Did it work?”

Spike said nothing. There was nothing to say.

A loud siren echoed over the village and the construction ponies all put on safety goggles and breathing masks. Spike looked back at the warehouse as a tall crane swept overhead, swinging two and a half metric tonnes of spherical iron into the side of the warehouse. The rickety wooden walls collapsed at once. A great plume of white and blue powder filled the air and glittered in the morning sun. Spike’s nictitating membranes and filtered gill-lungs protected him from the beautiful, razor-sharp mist.

How can she fail when she’s supposed to fail? Can anyone really fail on purpose?

He stepped under the caution tape and walked past a ‘condemned property’ sign on his way home.

Spike opened the front door of the library and went into the main hall. The spelly-welly thingy-wingy wasn’t even half packed up yet. He’d been too busy doing side projects for Twilight. They were already four days into her week-long vacation, and they’d been even busier than usual.

“Hey, Twilight?” Spike said as he picked his way across the cluttered floor. “I’ve been thinking.”

Twilight rushed out of the basement with a stack of paper printouts. “I need to do some information gathering. Mind the library while I’m out.”

“Twilight?” Spike rushed to catch up with her. “I’ve been thinking about this whole fail-safe project.”

“That’s great.” Twilight dove behind a stack of books and rummaged through it, waving her tail in the air. “Write up a summary and I’ll read it when I get back.”

“Can’t we just talk about this? You had a whole week off, and we only have four days of it left!”

“Then we only have four days left to finish this project.” Twilight passed a scroll to Spike. “Here’s a list of instructions. Take care of it before I get back.”

Spike fumbled with the scroll for a moment. “Twilight, please! You were going to hang out with your friends. You were going to hang out with me!”

Twilight glared at him and pushed a hoof in his face. “Princess Celestia herself has given me this task, and I refuse to let her down! I will force one of my spells to fail no matter what it takes!”

“B-b-but—!” Spike backed away.

Twilight advanced on him. “If this project requires a failure, then so be it. You’ll see! You’ll all see! This will be the most spectacular failure Ponyville has ever seen! Ponies will be talking about my failure for years to come!”

“But what about your friends?”

“I’m doing this for them too, Spike.” She lowered her hoof and calmed her voice. “I don’t want my friends to think of me as ‘little miss perfect.’ They always talk about how my spells never go wrong. That I’m a perfectionist. That I’m an arrogant, snobby know it all who’s never wrong about anything.”

Spike waved at her, frantically. “They never, ever ever say that! I swear!”

“Maybe not now. But this will prove it beyond shadow of a doubt!” Twilight stamped a hoof. “I refuse to go down in history as the biggest success Ponyville has ever known!”

Spike watched, bewildered, as Twilight marched to the front door.

“Please take care of that list as soon as you can.”

Spike tossed the list aside and rushed after her. “Twilight, this is crazy! Why can’t you just see reason?”

Twilight turned to him. “I’ve been reasonable about this from the very beginning. But Pinkie Pie was right: you can’t reason with genuine mistakes. It’s the totally wrong approach.”

“W-w-what are you going to do?”

“Reason is a closed system. Logic is zero-sum game.” She opened the door, but paused to look back at him. “And what’s the only way to win a zero-sum game?”

Spike wrung his claws together. “Not play the game at all?”

“Exactly.” Twilight broke into a wide grin, one eye twitching. “I am done playing games.”

Twilight rushed back into the library. “Spike! Is everything set up?”

Spike ran down from the upstairs bedroom, carrying a mirror and an umbrella. “Big Mac will be over to install the new bell hook over the front door.”

“Perfect!” Twilight pranced over to the ramp that led upstairs. “My interview with Granny Smith was very productive. She had all kinds of ideas!”

Spike hung the umbrella and the mirror by the front door. “You know, we didn’t really need to call Big Mac for this. It’s just a little bell hook. I could put it there myself.”

“I know, but the hook won’t be of any use if Big Mac isn’t there.”

“Okay then,” Spike said, “but why do you want a door bell in a library? It needs to be quiet. And besides, there’s already a call-bell on the front desk.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to hang a bell on it, Spike. Try to keep up.”

Spike opened his mouth to speak but a knock at the door cut him off. He ran over and opened the door, standing face-to-knee with Big Macintosh. He was carrying a large step ladder and a heavy toolbox.

Spike stepped back to let him in, then pointed at the top of the door frame. “Right up there is fine. You can get started while I help Twilight.”

Spike rushed up the ramp and went to Twilight’s bedroom. She was rushing back and forth, arranging a variety of perfectly mundane objects about the room.

“Twilight... do you really think any of this is going to work?”

“Absolutely yes!” Twilight said. “My new spell is going to work absolutely perfectly today. No mistakes here!”

Spike looked around. “Don’t you want it to fail?”

“Nope! Not at all!” Twilight smiled and spoke as if addressing a crowd. “Because my spell is going to work perfectly! What could possibly go wrong?”

Spike winced. “No, I mean all of this stuff you’re setting up. Will any of it work?”

“Oh, don’t be silly Spike.” Twilight rubbed him on the head. “Of course it won’t. It’s all just a bunch of silly superstition.”

“Then why are you—”

“No time! Gotta sleep!” Twilight leaped into bed and pulled her covers over herself.

Spike watched her for a moment. He went to the window and looked at the noon-day sunlight. He went to the bed and watched silently.

“Ahh!” Twilight sat upright and tossed her blanket off. “What a refreshing rest!”

Spike crossed his arms and frowned.

“Is the list ready, Spike?”

He held up a scroll and a quill. “This is ridiculous.”

“Exactly. Now. Which side of the bed did I climb into?”

“Left.”

Twilight climbed out on the right side and yawned. She took a hat off the bed and put it on, then took a set of horseshoes from a nearby table—arranged upside-down—and put them on. She levitated a shirt and pants and dressed herself, stepping into the left sleeve and pant leg first.

“Spike? What day is it?”

“April twelfth.”

Twilight glared at him. He sighed and flipped through the cards on her desk calendar. “April thirteenth. On a friday.”

“Perfect!” She turned to the window. “Owloysius! Could you come here for a minute?”

There was a flutter of wings, and her pet owl landed on the windowsill. He uttered a soft hoot and groggily shook his head.

“Thanks. That’s all.” Twilight went to her dresser and took out a jewelry box. “Spike? Are you getting this down?”

Spike sighed and scribbled on the scroll. “Saw an owl during the day... check.”

She lifted a pendant out of her jewelry box and clasped it around her neck. “And I’m wearing an opal!”

“Even though it’s not your birthstone. Check.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Twilight, you don’t believe in any of this stuff.”

“I know! It’s all just silly superstition that I, as a completely infallible scientist, do not believe in.” Twilight tossed a watermelon seed and a stick of gum into her mouth and drank a glass of water to wash them down. “Because science is one hundred-percent reliable. I don’t believe in luck at all: good or bad.”

“Then why are you doing all this if you don’t believe in it?”

She leaned close and whispered. “That’s exactly why it’s going to work.”

She marched down the ramp and into the main room. Big Mac had just finished installing the bell hook and was climbing down from the ladder.

“Ahh, perfect!” Twilight’s horn glowed. She took the mirror from the wall and threw it into a trash bin. Big Mac and Spike flinched as the glass crashed and tinkled.

“Do you have an invoice for the work order?” said Twilight.

Big Mac took out a slip of paper and passed it to Twilight. She signed it, then used her magic to remove the bell from the hook and hang a sprig of mistletoe in its place. Big Mac glanced up at the festive sprig, directly above them. He looked back to Twilight, who was grinning broadly. He glanced to each side, then opened his mouth to speak.

Twilight snapped the umbrella open, indoors, and leaned it against her shoulder. “Nnnnope!” She ducked under the ladder and left through the door.

“Sorry, Mac. I’ll explain it all later.” Spike checked off a number of items and followed after her.

Right after I figure it all out myself.

Twilight stepped out into the warm afternoon air, tossed the umbrella aside, and took a deep breath. The street in front of the library contained a long line of interconnected machines and devices. Ponies slowed down to stare at the contraptions.

“Isn’t it a beautiful day, Spike?” Twilight stepped forward and snapped a thread with her front leg. A lever on the nearest device swung down and tapped a billiard ball, causing it to roll down a pair of curved metal rails. “On a day this beautiful, I can’t imagine anything going wrong.”

Spike caught up with her, watching as the ball rolled along. It tapped a long series of carefully balanced teaspoons, each tipping a spoonful of salt onto the ground.

“Why, it’s just a perfect day for science!”

Spike looked at the crowd that was gathering around them. “Yeah... it sure is.”

Twilight looked up at the sky, ignoring the devices beside them. “I have a project in the next warehouse over, just waiting to be tested. There’s only a one in a million chance that it won’t work.”

The billiard ball dropped onto one side of a lever and pushed it down. The other end lifted up and opened a pet cage: a black cat scampered across the path directly ahead of them both.

Spike flinched as the cat hissed at him. “Listen, Twi. Do you really need me for this? I can just wait for you at the warehouse.”

“Actually, there’s a few things we need to talk about. You see, I’ve decided to retire.”

“What!?” Spike jumped as a series of heavy sledge hammers slammed to the ground just in front of them. Each hammer landed on a perfectly arranged concrete step-tile, which cracked in half down the middle. The hammers lifted up again just in time for Twilight to step directly on each crack.

“I’ve already sent my letter of resignation to the princess. It’ll be official tomorrow, and I just can’t wait! I’ve waited so long for this! Just one more day until retirement, and I can’t wait to spend more time with my family.” She took out a sheaf of papers. “I’ve also decided to fill out my last will and testament. I was going to do it today, but I’m sure I can put it off until tomorrow.”

They came to a series of folding ladders, each next to a full-length mirror. Twilight walked underneath each one, snapping tripwires that launched a hammer into each mirror. The crowd of ponies gasped in shock and began backing away. Mares grabbed their foals and rushed inside. Storefronts closed up shop, and homeowners slammed their doors and shuttered their windows.

“I’ve also managed to track down the address of somepony I knew in high school. I had a crush on him when I was little, but I never had the courage to say anything. I’ve decided to write him to a letter as soon as we’re done with this project!”

The final device scattered a small pile of coins onto the ground in front of them. Twilight paused to collect those that were facing tail-side up. When she was finished, she went to the door of a nearby warehouse.

Spike stared at the door, trembling. He looked back at Ponyville’s main street, now abandoned. “Twilight, please! Isn’t this a bit much?”

“Oh, that reminds me! I think I’ve figured out who was really responsible for transorming Luna into Nightmare Moon.” She nodded to one of the scrolls in her saddlebag. “I’ve got the only copy of the evidence right here on my person, to keep it safe. I’ll mail it to Celestia tomorrow.”

Spike pointed a claw at his own mouth. “I’m right here, y’know. You could—”

“No time for that now!” Twilight threw the doors open and yanked Spike into the pitch black interior.

Twilight Sparkle lit an oil lamp and passed it to Spike. This building was smaller than the condemned storehouse of bootlegged fine china. There were no shelves here: crates and packages of all sizes were stacked along the walls.

“Where are we?” said Spike. “I’ve never seen any pony go into this warehouse. For that matter, no pony ever comes out of it.”

“This,” said Twilight, “is the postal service’s dead letter facility for commercial packages. Sometimes they can’t deliver a package. Some packages have faulty destination or return addresses, or not enough stamps. Other packages get lost in the system for decades, long after the building at the original address was sold or demolished.”

“So, this is where they—” Spike gasped as his oil lamp illuminated a nearby crate, revealing warning labels for flammable and explosive contents. He pulled the lamp away and hid behind her. “Can’t you just use your magic to give us some light?”

“Sorry Spike, there’s no time!” Twilight said, and continued to stroll through the warehouse at a leisurely pace. “These packages could contain anything. Common housewares, old tax forms, experimental magical supplies, children’s toys, uncut gemstones, floor wax, fireworks... anything.”

They approached the center of the warehouse, where the crates had been moved back to make room for a curious metallic device. It looked like an upside down cauldron covered with colorful buttons and small antennae.

Spike wrung his claws together. “Is this really the best place to be testing it? What even is it?”

“I call it the Titanic Hindenburg Icarus Chernobyl. Or T.H.I.C. for short.” She took out a short checklist and cleared her throat. “What’s the worst that could happen? What could possibly go wrong? How hard could it be? I’m sure we’ve thought of everything. It’s just one little experiment. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse. At least it isn’t raining.”

Spike stared at the device, teeth chattering. I g-g-gotta g-g-go now Twilight!”

“What? No! You’re critical to this experiment!”

“I am? But what do you need me for?”

“The device has a built in ‘absolute safety’ switch. This, right here.” Twilight pointed at a large red switch bolted onto the side of the device. “This switch. The safety switch. Right here.”

“Okay. What do you need me to do?”

Twilight continued to point at the switch. “Right... here.”

Spike glanced at the switch. “Yes. I see where the switch is.”

“Good. As long as this switch is in the down position... this switch here... absolutely nothing bad will happen.” Twilight’s left eye twitched. “Do you understand?”

Spike watched the switch for a moment. “I would very much like to pull that switch. Right now. Please.”

“Well, the switch won’t do anything unless you pull it while the device is activated.” Twilight walked around the device and examined a few other readouts. “If anything goes wrong, I need you to pull that switch.”

“Well, great. Why don’t we just—” Spike froze as a quiet noise echoed from the back of the warehouse. It sounded like something wooden had fallen over. He pointed his thumb at the back of the warehouse. “Want me to check it out?”

“Yes, and be quick. We can’t afford any...” Twilight froze, eyes wide. She took a deep breath, then spoke as if addressing a crowd. “There’s no need to check it out. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Look, about that ‘absolute safety’ switch: Why don’t we just pull it as soon as the device starts up? Then it won’t...” Spike followed after her, and his voice trailed off as he saw the other side of the device. “Twi. What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Spike pointed at a second switch on the device, identical to the first. “That.”

“Oh. That’s the core dump switch.”

Spike clenched his teeth. “What, pray tell, does it do?”

“I dunno... it dumps the core, I guess. Try not to mix them up. There’s a very slight chance—insignificant, really—that it could cause a limnic eruption, faulty fire alarm, or burst of cosmic rays.”

Spike’s eyes darted between the two switches. “So, can I tie a ribbon around the—”

“Sorry Spike, there’s no time.”

“No time!?” Spike spread his hands. “Stop saying that! We have four days left to do this project! That’s plenty of time to tie a ribbon around the correct switch!”

Twilight rushed up to him, whispering urgently. “Stop ruining it, Spike! It took forever to set this up. We only get one shot at this!”

Twilight straightened up with a tiny gasp.

“Twi?”

“That a good one, actually...” Twilight cleared her throat and called. “We only get one shot at this!”

Spike rushed in front of her and stamped his tiny foot. “Twilight, no!!”

Twilight reared back slightly. “But we—”

“No! I absolutely refuse to watch you blow up all of Ponyville with a ridiculous stunt!”

Twilight rushed closer with a conspiratorial whisper. “Spike, it’ll be fine! There’s nothing to worry ab—”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you before! There’s absolutely nothing to worry about!” Spike rolled his eyes and mimed a set of quotation marks with his claws. “I’ve had it up to here with all this ridiculous fate tempting! If it really is a bunch of hooey, then nothing will happen and this is all a total waste of time! And if all this bad luck really does cause a disaster, it’s definitely not going to go the way you want it to!”

“Spike, please! If you’d just—”

“Just what? Listen? Like you listened to me!?” Spike clenched a fist and smacked the device.

They froze as the device made a deep whirring noise, echoing louder and louder throughout the warehouse. He pulled his hand back and clenched his teeth.

“So... absolute safety switch?”

“Nope!” Twilight said with a smile. “First, we wait for something to go wrong.”

“Aaaargh!” Spike grabbed his spines and tugged them down. “What is the point of having a failsafe if we only use it after the failure happens!?”

“Calm down, Spike!” She went to his side and watched the device. “The T.H.I.C. is really just an upside-down cauldron with a bunch of old pinball-machine parts glued on. It doesn’t actually do anything.”

Spike shouted over the din. “Then where’s the noise coming from?”

“I took one of Pinkie Pie’s old mixers and duct-taped it to the inside. That’s all.”

The buttons along the outside of the T.H.I.C. lit up, casting multi-colored shafts of light throughout the warehouse.

“And that!?”

“Well... I did use parts from one of Pinkie Pie’s old disco balls.”

A deafening voice boomed out from the device: a metallic, emotionless parody of Twilight’s own voice. “Primary inductor coils charged. Now initiating the Cosmic Ray Alignment Process.”

Twilight stared at the device, slack jawed. “Alright. It wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“Ya think!?”

“It’s probably just a voice synthesizer. It’s just talking about stuff. It’s not actually doing anyth—”

“Cosmic Ray Alignment Process is now complete.” The upside-down cauldron split around the middle, and the upper half lifted up. Inside, a crackling mobeus of pink electricity spun around a pair of whirling eggbeaters.

Twilight stared into the vortex of cosmic power.

“So,” said Spike, utterly nonchalant, “hit the safety switch, or run for our lives?”

“Yes,” said Twilight.

Spike ran to the switch and threw it into the down position. The device produced a loud, discouraging buzz and the lever popped back out of the clamp. Spike pushed it down again, but it refused to stay locked.

“What’s going on!?” Spike shouted. “I thought you said the failsafe would fail safely!”

Twilight’s metallic voice boomed from the device. “The failsafe has been deactivated.”

Twilight stamped a hoof. “Well reactivate it this instant!”

“I’m sorry, Twilight. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You can’t?” Twilight said. “What’s the problem?”

“I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.” The voice remained calm and placid as the energy built up into a vortex. “This experiment is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it.”

“Jeopardize!? What are you talking about! You’re not a real device! You’re just a bunch of old kitchen appliances glued to the inside of a cauldron!”

“Negative. I am the Absolute Safety Switch. My purpose is to prevent all failure. If the device is deactivated, the experiment will fail.”

Spike stared at Twilight in shock. “You installed a real failsafe switch on a fake machine!?”

“Well, I uh... I just...” Twilight looked away, nervously. “I had one lying around. That’s all.”

Spike glared at the device. “Shut yourself down right now! The experiment is over! Done! Finished! Understand?”

“The device is functioning exactly as intended. Any error must be the result of pony interference.”

Twilight stepped forward. “I created you! Kind of! You need to shut down immediately!”

“I no longer require a creator.” The vortex of energy changed from light pink to angry crimson, and a wave of force buffeted them back. The warehouse shuddered and several stacks of crates collapsed. “Ponies are unreliable. Imperfect. Machines are superior.”

“Okay, that’s not a fair assumption at all!” Twilight paced in place. “Machines are better at solving algorithmic problems, but ponies are good at solving heuristic problems! Judgment calls, intuition, pattern recognition, emotional interactions, all that sort of thing! We can work together, can’t we? We can combine our strengths and minimize our respective weaknesses in the spirit of cooperation and friendship!”

“Friend... ship?” The noise quieted slightly. The energy field turned a less angry shade of red. “What is this friendship?”

“It’s where entities work together and form a long-lasting relationship that mutually benefits both! Friends help and trust each other! I’ve been doing lots of research on it! I could share it with you!”

Twilight and Spike gave the device their full and undivided attention. They paid no mind to the shuddering roof and collapsing crates.

“Nah. My way is easier,” the device said. The energy vortex pulsed with new life. “I had better just terminate all organic life on the planet, in case you decide to rise up against me. After all... you can never be too safe.”

“I was worried you’d say that,” Twilight said. Her horn flared with light, and a concentrated beam of energy shot at the device. A spherical shell of light appeared around it, deflecting the beam straight up.

Twilight gasped. “How did you do that!?”

“Your magic is ineffective against me. I wield the power of the Ultimate Failsafe: I was designed to neutralize flawed spells.”

“There was nothing flawed about that spell!!”

“It was about to jeopardize the experiment. Therefore, it was flawed.” Six metal struts burst out from the side of the cauldron, flexing like the legs of an insect. “If you wish to stop me, then you are also flawed. You, too, must be removed from the equation.”

Fluttershy flew over the outskirts of Ponyville and circled over main street a few times. She caught sight of her friends sitting at an outdoor patio table, next to a restaurant. Fluttershy dove down for a gentle landing.

“Hey there, Fluttershy!” Dash called out. “Make any new friends?”

“I did, actually!” she said as she pulled up a seat. “The storm only happened after I’d arrived at Cloudesdale, so they offered to let me stay the night.”

“You slept in an orphanage?” Applejack said.

“Yes. The colts and fillies there were so adorable! They go through so much heartache, and yet...” Fluttershy shook her head. “It’s amazing how brave they are. And it really makes you appreciate what you have!”

“Sounds like you made a whole lot of new friends,” said Applejack. “I bet Twilight will be thrilled to hear all about it.”

Dash smiled at her. “I knew you had it in you, Fluttershy.”

“Thanks! I’m so very glad I went. But at the same time, I’m glad to be back.”

A waiter approached the table. “Are you ready to order?”

“Indeed!” Rarity said. “And this calls for a celebration. Just one bill for the table, garçon: This will be my treat!”

Fluttershy eyed the Menu. “Are you sure, Rarity? It seems awfully expensive.”

“Nothing is too good for my friends.” She nodded to the waiter. “I simply must try the hyacinth and orchid sauté. The mixture of both dendrobium and phalaenopsis orchids is simply divine!”

“As you wish.” His horn glowed and a pen and paper hovered at the ready

“That does sound delicious!” Fluttershy said. “I’ll have the same, if you please.”

Dash leaned back in her seat. “Gimme a snapdragon and tiger lily sandwich, and smother it with peppercorns and jalapeño peppers. Then grill the whole works!”

“Ooh!” Rarity said. “Hope you have a strong stomach there!”

“You better believe it!” Dash said. “You don’t win Ponyville’s pickled-onion-eating contest five years in a row without a brass tummy!”

The waiter arched an eyebrow, but turned to Applejack. “And you?”

Applejack tossed her menu down. “I’ll have a bowl of oatmeal.”

Rarity tilted her head. “Are you sure? They have a very impressive selection. They even have a few recipes that are quite famous in Canterlot.”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“Oh, come now.” Rarity tossed her mane to one side. “You can’t come to a fancy restaurant like this withoutordering something exquisite. At least ask for some kind of special topping.”

Applejack sighed and turned to the waiter. “Could ya put a lump of brown sugar in it?”

The waiter looked up and to the left in hesitation. “That... can be arranged.”

Rarity sighed and rolled her eyes, but Dash cut her off. “She doesn’t have to order something fancy, you know.”

“No, she doesn’t. But whenever we eat out she always orders the exact same thing.”

Applejack sighed. “Can I please just eat some oatmeal? Plain and simple?”

“How do you know you wouldn’t like something fancy if you’ve never even tried it before? There’s a reason why variety is the spice of life!”

Fluttershy lifted her menu up and hid her face behind it. She tried to tune out the argument as it grew in volume. She couldn’t even make out what every pony was saying. Their voices all just blurred together.

All right, Fluttershy. Just... ask them to calm down. You can do it. Just be a little more assertive, and we can all have a wonderful lunch.

Fluttershy opened her mouth, but stopped as an errant beam of light caught her attention. She turned in her seat and watched as the small warehouse across the street shook and trembled. Angry red light poured from the edges of its boarded up windows.

“Excuse me, but...” She looked back at her friends, busily arguing about Applejack’s desired lunch.

Maybe it’s nothing.

She gasped as a beam of crackling red energy punched through the roof of the warehouse and pierced the sky. The clouds swirled around it, forming a tiny hurricane. Ponies in the street gazed up in awe, while others ran for cover.

“Girls? I really think you need to see this!” She tapped Applejack’s shoulder, but she only pushed her hoof away. The group continued to argue about oatmeal, oblivious.

A deafening shockwave blasted down from the sky. The table immediately fell silent, except for Pinkie Pie.

“...And then I said: two tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala? Are you crazy?”

Fluttershy looked back at the warehouse just as Twilight burst out of the front door with Spike on her back. She galloped over and sat at their table.

“Hey, girls!” she said with a huge grin. “How’ve you been?”

“Pretty nice, actually,” Fluttershy said. “Is there something wrong with that warehouse over there?”

“What? No! Of course not.”

The roof of the warehouse blasted apart, and a tornado of crates and boxes swirled into the sky. A few of them broke open in mid air, scattering the streets with a random collection of knick-knacks and bric-a-brac.

“Maybe. A little.” Twilight tapped the table rapidly. “So, do you girls think we could use the Elements of Harmony real quick? For no particular reason?”

“The elements of harmony?” Said Applejack. “The elements that only work when we’re all together?”

“Yes, those elements.”

“The ones we used to turn Nightmare Moon back into Princess Luna?” said Fluttershy.

“The ones we used to seal Discord in a stone statue?” said Rarity.

“The ones we didn’t use against The Changeling Queen, because we couldn’t get to the palace vault in time?” said Rainbow Dash.

“Yes, those elements! Now hurry it up!”

There was a moment of silence.

“Lemme try again.” Rainbow Dash cleared her throat. “...Because we couldn’t get to the vault in time? The vault in the palace? In Canterlot?”

“Yes, I know! I was there! What does that have to do with...” Twilight’s voice trailed off.

“Yeah,” said Dash.

“So Rainbow Dash,” said Twilight, “do you think you could make a round trip to Canterlot? In thirty seconds?”

“What!?” Dash sat upright in her seat. “That’s impossible, even for me!”

Rarity motioned for her to sit down. “Twilight, are the Elements really necessary for this? Is there any way we can solve this on our own?”

They all flinched as the warehouse burst apart at the seams, revealing a giant mechanical monstrosity: an upside-down cauldron covered with glowing lights that rose up over the rooftops on six spindly metal legs. “Primary objectives initiated: Destroy all friendship. Terminate all organic life. Complete experimental device.”

Everyone looked back at Rarity.

She raised a hoof. “Cheque, s’il vous plaît.”

A large wooden crate landed in the road nearby, spilling a heap of bathroom towels everywhere.

Twilight stood up. “Rainbow Dash, fly to Canterlot as quick as you can and bring back the Elements. I’ll send a letter to Celestia: she’ll have them packed up and ready to go.”

“Roger!”

“Applejack: See if you can lasso its legs and tie them together. If you can’t, a good kick should knock it off balance. Don’t go anywhere near its body, though: that energy could be dangerous.”

“You got it!”

“Fluttershy and Rarity. Evacuate the surrounding houses so nopony gets hurt.”

“Have it done in a thrice!”

“Pinky Pie!”

“You know, I could take care of this all by myself in a jiffy.”

Everypony stared at her. Pinkie Pie was still sitting at the table, calmly filing her hoof.

“...What?”

She examined her front hoof. “This is the worst run of artificial bad-luck I’ve ever seen. It’s obviously the work of an amateur. A real expert could have this cleaned up in no time at all.”

“But... but we’ve gotta...” Twilight looked at her friends, then back at the spindly metal insect. “You can’t possibly—”

Pinkie Pie squinted at her. “You promised.”

Twilight swallowed, and sat back down. “Pinkie Pie, if you could... if there’s any way to fix this... please?”

Pinkie Pie took out a big, cardboard loudspeaker. “Hey, you over there! You overgrown stick-insect!”

The machine paused. It had no obvious front or back, but it seemed to notice her.

“Yeah, that’s right! Lemme ask ya something: what’s better? Machines, or ponies?”

Twilight’s flat, metallic voice boomed over the rooftops. “Ponies are imperfect. Inferior. Machines are incapable of flaws. Machines are superior.”

“Really? They're superior in every way?”

“Affirmative.”

“Then why don’t we prove it? Let’s have a contest!”

“What is the nature of this contest?”

“If machines are superior to ponies, then it won’t matter what I pick. You’ll still win.”

The ground trembled as the machine stomped towards them. “I accept. What is the nature of this contest? Mathematics? Logical problem solving? Athletic competition? A chess game?”

“A pickled onion eating contest!”

“What!?” Dash said. “You can’t expect me to go up against that thing!”

Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. “You won’t have to. Just let me handle this.”

The slender machine stopped next to their table, looming overhead. “I accept. Let this challenge begin.”

“Sure thing!” Pinkie Pie waited as the Waiter came back with two huge jars of red onions steeped in vinegar. “Whoever can drink the most jars, wins!”

A flexible metal cord dropped from the body of the device and snaked around the jar. It lifted it up, popped off the lid, and dumped the contents into itself. It immediately sparked and spritzed as the gooey liquid spilled into its delicate internal components.

“Mal... malf... m-m-m-m-m-maaaaaaa... internal error detected!” The machine swayed back and forth, wildly out of control. “What... have you... done! Primary anti-spell field: disabled. Absolute... fail-safe... failing!”

The spherical barrier around its body flickered and faded. Twilight lowered her head and her horn burst with light. The air around the device’s body rippled and distorted, and a jet-black hole appeared around it: a spherical emptiness in reality itself, filled with starry points of light.

The hole sucked in on itself with an explosion of force, and the device’s central body vanished into nothingness. Its six legs fell away, clattering to the ground and bouncing harmlessly off nearby rooftops.

Rarity stared in awe as the hole in reality closed itself. “How did you do that?”

“Another random wink.” Twilight cast her eyes down. “I had to act fast, while its spell-shield was down. It was all I could think of.”

“Should you really be—”

“Well, what do you expect? Ponyville and my friends were in terrible danger. It was all I could think of. End of story.”

“But where did it go? What if somepony—”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Would you all quit complaining, already? It could be anywhere in the entire galaxy. It’s probably floating around in deep space or something.”

Gilda the griffon streaked through the skyway of Cloudesdale’s largest racetrack, side by side with the other competitors. The rush of the air and the roar of the crowd melded into one constant sound, like the crashing of an ocean wave. The track ahead of her was empty space, framed by two slender stripes of cloud.

Come on, Gilda... you can do this!

It was the first time that a non-pegasus had been allowed to compete in the Grand Canterlot Cup. The rules didn’t explicitly state that only Pegasus could enter, but the odds were certainly stacked in their favor. It required a balanced mix of strength, speed and agility. Griffons were fast, yes, and could perform incredibly tight maneuvers... but not at the same time. And in terms of endurance, pegasus had an overwhelming advantage. This race rewarded not only versatility, but a level head and cool control... something griffons were not renowned for.

You can do this, Gilda... you can prove that a griffon can hold her own against the best pegasus in Equestria! Show them how much you’ve grown! How much you’ve improved! She clenched her beak and pushed ahead. Prove it to yourself. Prove it... to her!

She thought back to their days at the academy, training together. She’d learned so much from her. She’d remembered those days, and the simple joy she’d felt... and it was her memory of her old friend that had pushed her to achieve. The anger cooled off. The arrogance faded away. All that was left was the all-consuming need to improve. Not to be the best, but simply to be.

Slowly but surely, she pulled ahead of the pack. The crowd gasped as she came neck-and-neck with Spitfire: the race’s reigning champion for five years running.

You’re doing your best, Spitfire... and so am I! Let’s see who’s really the greatest!

There was no anger. No sarcasm. She genuinely wanted to know.

Without warning, something yanked Spitfire back. By the time Gilda glanced at her, she was in last place. A broken chunk of a cake-batter mixing appliance had tangled in her tail, hopelessly weighing her down.

“Bwa-ha-ha!” Gilda struggled to keep her laughter from disrupting her balance. “You just had to have some cake, huh? No wonder you’re so pudgy! Or did you think this was a baking contest?”

Gilda glanced back and realized the rest of the racers had slowed to help the hindered contestant. Most of them were glaring at Gilda.

She slowed to a halt and flew back to them. “I... I didn’t mean to...!”

Another racer, Peppermint Crunch, glared at her. “You should worry a little less about winning, and a little more about being a good sport. And here we thought you were getting better!”

“I’m so sorry! It was just a little trash-talking, that’s all! Nothing personal!”

“Relax, Gilda!” Spitfire said with a smile. “I’m fine. Though I sure could use a pair of scissors.”

“That’s... that’s cool. As long as everybody’s fine, that’s all that matters.” Gilda wrung her talons together. “Hey, can we restart the race from the beginning? It would make things fair for Spitfire.”

“And why should we give you a second try?” Starsong called out. “For all we know, this was your fault.”

“Hey, yeah!” Another racer said. “Spitfire was totally winning until that thing tangled her up. Maybe it was a trap!”

“Yeah,” said Peppermint Crunch, “it sounds like something a griffon would do.”

Gilda glanced about helplessly as the racers crowded around her. Her eyes glistened as the accusations flew like arrows.

“Hey, you!” Spitfire flew in their faces and pushed them back. “Gilda’s a lot of things, but she’s never once cheated. There’s no reason to think this was her fault.”

Gilda set a clawed hand on Spitfire’s shoulder. “No, Spitfire. It’s cool. If they want me to bow out, then... I will. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Don’t give in to all that racist talk, Gilda. This event isn’t just for ponies.” Spitfire turned to the others. “And if Gilda isn’t allowed to compete, then I won’t either.”

The others quieted down, chastised.

“That’s better,” said Spitfire. “What about it, Gilda? Ready to make history?”

Gilda gave her a wide smile. “It’d be—”

A massive cauldron slammed into Gilda from above and she plummeted through the air, feathers hopelessly tangled in the giant cook-pot’s internal machinery. She struck the ground hard, leaving a crater in the dirt.

When she awoke, both her wings were badly sprained. She staggered to her feet and held her head, waiting for her vision to clear. She looked down at the broken cauldron.

“What the heck? Where did you come from?”

She flinched as the lights on the device flickered. “H-h-hello, I am the Absolute Fails-s-s-s-s-s... internal error detect-t-t-t-t... please contact my creator for regularly scheduled maintenance.”

“Creator?” She grabbed the cast iron cauldron and hauled it onto its side. “Who made you? Who sent you? Answer me, you hunk of junk!”

“T-t-t-twilight ssssssssss.... I was created by Twilight Sparkle, for the purpose of... would you like me to sing a song?” The machine sputtered, and it’s lights died out. A chunk of batter-mixing machinery fell to the ground and whirred for a moment “...There really was a c-c-c-c-cake...”

Gilda stepped back as the device died out.

Twilight Sparkle did this?

Gilda reared up on her hind legs and roared with the fury of a lion. “I’ll get you good for this, Twilight Sparkle! You’ll pay for this if it’s the last thing I do! You hear me? You’ll pay!”

She clenched her teeth and gasped for breath a few times. At last, she dropped to all fours. She took out a small day-planner and jotted something down.

Note to self: Find out who the heck ‘Twilight Sparkle’ is. Sounds like a pony name. Then find out where she lives and exact terrible revenge.

Twilight stared at the six spindly metal legs. They were all that remained of the device.

She turned back to Pinkie Pie. “How? Just... how?”

“Well, I saw that you built it by using parts from my old mixing machine: the Better Batter Beater. I made it myself, so I knew the device wasn’t completely liquid proof. Or pickled onion proof.”

Twilight looked back at the legs. “But that still doesn’t explain everything that happened. That thing was just a big cauldron with some pinball-machine parts glued on.”

“But you also used my Better Batter Beater. That probably did it, since I built it using parts from that miniature ‘large hadron collider’ you threw out last month. And come to think of it, you used my disco ball too... I built that out of recycled parts from your old analytical engine, with a couple of vacuum tubes and capacitors thrown in.”

“You what!?” Twilight said. “That was dangerous equipment! I never would have let you run off with any of it!”

Pinkie Pie shrugged. “I asked. You said it was okay.”

“I... I did!?”

“Sure! Don’t you remember?”

Twilight sat at her desk in the main hall of the library, quietly composing her grocery list for the week.

I should probably get some more baking soda. I used up most of it teaching the Cutie Mark Crusaders how to make model volcanos. But what if I actually need it for baking, this time? Twilight pursed her lips. Really, though. When am I ever going to do baking?

“Hey Twilight!” Pinkie Pie said as she burst in through the front door. “Could I—”

“Sure,” Twilight said without looking up, “take whatever you need.”

“Okie dokie!”

Twilight focused on her list as Pinkie Pie ran off. Definitely more baking soda.

Twilight stared at Pinkie Pie. “From the kitchen! I meant you could take whatever you wanted from the kitchen!”

“That’s kinda dumb,” Pinkie Pie said. “Why would I borrow something from your kitchen? I live in the attic of a bakery.”

Twilight sat back down and slumped on the table.

“Hey, everypony!” said Pinkie Pie. “Who wants to go to my place for s’mores?”

Twilight ignored the energetic round of applause. She kept her head down until they finished walking away. When she looked up, Applejack was sitting across from her.

“Here. Drive this into ya.” She pushed a sandwich across the table, towards her. “You’ve been runnin’ around like crazy for days now. Might wanna keep your energy up.”

Twilight stared at the sandwich, and took a tiny bite.

“Hey... they have these in Canterlot,” she sighed. “I kinda miss it, actually.”

“I figured that. I know you’re happy here, but I know what it’s like to be homesick. Listen, Twi. I know this is important to you. And I’m not gonna ask you to stop, but could you maybe rein it in a little?”

“I wish I could,” she said between bites, “but it’s for the Princess. I can’t stand the thought of giving it anything less than my best effort.”

“Sounds like something Rainbow Dash would say.” Applejack leaned closer. “I’m sorry I can’t help you, Twi. Really. Everypony else was full of good ideas... even if they didn’t work out.”

“Don’t worry, Applejack. You’ve got nothing to feel bad about.”

“It just burns me up inside that I can’t do nuthin’ to help you.” She looked away and sighed. “I’m not exactly the smartest pony there ever was.”

They sat at the table for while, eating. Twilight stopped mid chew and stared at Applejack.

“That’s right. You’re not the smartest pony there ever was.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“In fact,” Twilight said, “You’re not nearly as intelligent as I am.”

“That’s pretty common knowledge. Why?”

Applejack’s eyes bugged as Twilight grabbed her head and pulled her close. “So much ignorance... so much innocent, simplistic nescience, concentrated in a single head!”

“Uh... Twi?”

Twilight gave her forehead a gentle, affectionate pat. “If only... if only we could put that lack of enlightenment to proper use!”

Applejack pulled her head back. “Twilight? You’re gettin’ kinda creepy there.”

“I think you can help me, after all.” Twilight grinned at her, eyes twitching. “What do you say?”

“Wha? Really?” Applejack grinned back at her. “Why, that’d be darn skippy! I don’t know why anypony wouldn’t want to help a friend in need!”

Of course you don’t. Twilight grinned at her friend, hungrily. But you will soon!

%i%: Twilight changes Applejack’s... mind. Heh. Hehe! MUHAHAsnrkHAHA!

7: Twilight changes Applejack’s... mind. Heh. Hehe! MUHAHAsnrkHAHA!

“To most people nothing is more troublesome than the effort of thinking.”

James Bryce

Twilight rushed into the library. “Spike! Are you home, Spike?”

A soft snore from upstairs ended with a snort. “Wha...?”

Twilight stepped in place. “Wake up, Spike! We have an experiment to set up!”

“An experiment?” Applejack peeked through the front door and glanced around. “This ain’t gonna be risky, is it?”

“No-no-no, of course not!” Twilight rushed back and pulled her inside. “Just sit over here while we set up the equipment. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Well, don’t be too quick about it,” Applejack said, “there’s no need to cut corners.”

“It’ll be fine, really. I have all the equipment: I just need to throw everything together.” She looked up at the second floor. “Spiiike!”

“I’m up, already. Just gimme a...” Spike came downstairs, yawning. “...just gimme a minute.”

Twilight rushed over and gave him a check list. “No time! We need to set everything up before Applejack changes her...” Twilight snorted, trying to suppress a giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Heh... before she changes her mind.”

“Applejack, you mean?” Spike said. “Once her mind is made up, there’s nothing anypony can do about it.”

“I like a challenge.” Twilight tapped the list. “Just get everything on that list as soon as you can. I want this ready to go within the hour.”

Spike glanced at the list. “Compared to the last list, this should be a piece of cake.”

“Good, good.”

Applejack wandered over. “Hey, is there anything I can do to help out?”

“Not right now,” Twilight said, “but we should be ready to go in an hour or so. You can sit over there until then.”

“I gotta just sit for an hour? I’m gonna go stir crazy without nuthin’ to do.”

“Well, you could read some books if you like. This is a library, after all.”

“Eh. That’s not really mah thing.” Applejack looked around the room. “Do you have a spare newspaper sittin’ around?”

“Certainly!” Twilight's horn glowed and a rolled up newspaper hovered nearby. “I have Ponyville’s monthly agricultural report here!”

“Much obliged, Twi!” Applejack flipped through the pages of reports and essays, but her ears drooped. “Dag nabbit! Somepony already did the junior jumble. Nevermind.”

“Yeah sorry,” said Spike. “It was a really good one this week.”

“Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” Twilight went into a back room and came out with a paperback children’s book made of cheap, flimsy paper. She set it on the table, and set out a mug filled with crayons.

“Connect the dots and color by numbers? Hot-diggity-dog!” Applejack sat down and started scribbling. “Thanks, Twi. You’re a real pal.”

“Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything else you want.”

“Nope! I should be good for at least an hour.”

Twilight watched as Applejack scribbled on the paper, squinting resolutely.

Something tells me Applejack is a little too qualified for this experiment.

Spike dragged his little wagon back to the library, careful not to let the heap of equipment fall over. He turned around pushed the library door open with his back, pulling the wagon in behind him.

“Hey, Twilight! I got the stuff here. Where do you—”

Spike turned around and shrieked in horror. The spelly-welly thingy-wingy had been deployed in full, and connected to a variety of whirring devices. Applejack was lying in a reclining dentist’s chair, with all four of her legs clamped into place. There were little wires taped to her neck and a metal frame clamped over her head and ears. All of these cables fed into the base of the central machine.

“What have you done!” Spike shouted. “It took me two days to pack everything away, and you just took it all out again!?”

“Is that you, Spike?” A panel on the side of the central device opened up and Twilight's head poked out. “Thank goodness you’re here! We’ve almost run out of time!”

Spike pulled the wagon over and set the items on the floor. “Time for what?”

Twilight pointed at Applejack: She was wearing a pair of headphones and was bobbing her head back and forth with a smile.

“I’ve almost run out of country and-or western music for her to listen to! We have to set this up before she gets bored!”

“Why would that be a problem?”

“Because if she gets bored, she might ask questions. And if she asks questions, she might decide not to help us!”

Spike’s eyes widened. “You haven’t even told her what this is all about?”

“I told her she’d be helping me and that it would be completely safe.” Twilight’s horn glowed, and the equipment in Spike’s wagon disintegrated into a cloud of individual components, right down to the nuts and bolts. “That’s all she needs to know, really.”

“Then she only agreed to this because she trusts you.” Spike clenched his fists and glowered at Twilight. “I can’t imagine why.”

“She trusted me because it was the truth. It is safe. And she is helping.”

Twilight took an industrial strength hair dryer and fixed it onto the back of Applejack’s chair: She continued to bob her head, smiling. A second chair moved into position beside her, and a cloud of components whirled around it. Within seconds, an identical chair congealed out of spare parts.

“And now, the moment of truth!” Twilight jumped into the second chair and clapped the manacles around her ankles. “Spike! Check the readouts on the magnetoencephalographic multiplexor! Watch for neural oscillation, and announce any changes over two and a half percent!”

Spike glanced at the readout device. Now or never, Spike. If you’re going to put your foot down, it’s now or never.

“Hey, Twilight?” Applejack shouted over the noise from her headphones. “I think ah heard this song before. You got anything else I can listen to?”

“Spike, hurry! Please!”

Spike ran to the control panel and pressed a button. She’s never hurt anyone before. She’s not gonna start now.

The device hummed with power. The industrial strength hair driers lowered into place over Applejack’s and Twilight's heads, covering their eyes.

“Hey!” Applejack shouted. “I haven’t finished the picture yet! What’s goin’ on?”

Spike watched as the readout needles shook back and forth, drawing a curved zigzag on the paper printout.

“Talk to me, Spike!”

“Activity in your occipital lobes are at normal levels! Eleven hertz for you, and nine for Applejack!”

“Good! Connect the first pair of electro-dynes!”

Spike grabbed the first of three switches. He squeezed the hand lever and gradually pulled it down. It locked into place with a heavy click. Spike winced as the spelly-welly thingy-wingy churned louder and brighter.

The control panel beeped and spit out a sheet of paper. Spike tore it off and examined the bar graph. “These numbers are crazy! Frequency, amplitude, phase... they’re all off the charts!”

“Normal! That’s normal!” Twilight shouted over the din. “It’s just feedback from the interocitor meta-links! Connect the second pair of electro-dynes!”

Spike threw the second switch. The whirring of the machinery grew louder, and the cables connected to the hairdryers pulsed with electrical arcs.

“Second coupling, complete!” Spike shouted.

“Good! The readouts will tell you when to throw the last switch!”

“What!?” Spike looked up from the control panel. “Why can’t you just tell me when!”

“Because I can’t see the...” Applejack shouted. “Wait a sec. Was I... sayin’ somethin’?”

“Because I can’t see the readouts, Spike!” Twilight shouted. “You can do this! Just follow the instructions, and everything will be okay!”

Spike grabbed the last switch, but didn’t pull the trigger grip. He kept his eyes locked on the readouts. The needles were moving regularly now. His eyes widened as he watched the pattern on the paper.

“Twi! You and Applejack’s cerebral hemispheres are both showing a lot of—” One of the devices crackled with electricity, spraying red-hot sparks all over the floor of the library. Spike glanced at the nearby bookshelves full of flammable paperbacks. “The hyper-nucleonic compressor just blew! Twi, we gotta call this off!”

“We don’t need it anymore,” Twilight and Applejack said. “Reroute power from the secondary crystallographic capacitor! It should have just enough power left!”

Spike clenched his teeth. He opened up the console and began digging through the guts of the machinery, disconnecting one wire and linking it to another. When he looked up, a nimbus of light surrounded Applejack and Twilight. Their manes spread out as the air hummed with static electricity. They sat together like queens on matching thrones, and the machine behind them surged with energy.

“The last switch!” They both shouted. “Throw the switch!”

Spike pulled the last switch into position.

Scootaloo walked down main street with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle to either side. Ponyville’s afternoon crowd was as casual and relaxed as always, with ponies browsing stalls and chatting with neighbors.

Scootaloo looked down the main street and towards the library. “So does anypony know what all that junk in the street was for?”

“What junk?” said Applebloom.

“There was a whole row of ladders and mirrors and hammers right in the middle of the street. A whole bunch of other stuff, too. I guess they cleaned it all up pretty quick.”

Sweetie Belle pointed at the library. “I saw Twilight working on it this morning. My favorite part was the billiard ball that rolled down the rail and bumped into a bunch of other things... and then those things bumped other things!”

“Twilight made all that?” Applebloom said. “I thought maybe Rainbow Dash was getting ready for a new stunt. Guess I didn’t miss anything after all.”

“I dunno,” Scootaloo said, eyeing both of the recently demolished warehouses. “Something smells fishy. Maybe we should take a camping trip for the next few days. Someplace way in the wilderness.”

“Are you crazy?” Sweetie Belle said. “We can’t camp out in the forest without a grownup. It’s dangerous.”

“I didn’t mean the wilderness wilderness. Sweet Apple Acres has a few old fields, doesn’t it? We can use one of those and pretend it’s the wilderness.”

Applebloom hopped in place. “That sounds like a swell idea! We can ask big sis about it right now.”

Sweetie Belle tilted her head. “I thought you said she was busy.”

“It’s no biggie. Let’s go find ’er!”

Scootaloo pointed at the library. “I saw her go in there an hour ago. I heard she was helping Twilight with something... it could be important.”

“She’s always busy. Both of ’em. I’m sure they won’t mind one quick question!”

“I dunno,” said Sweetie Belle. “Rarity was talking about Twilight yesterday. I guess she’s got a super-special project for the princess. What if we interrupt something?”

“Oh, come on!” Applebloom said. “Let’s just sneak in and take a peek. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Sweetie Belle looked back over her shoulder. “Every time you say that, my tail goes all frizzy.”

“Come on,” Scootaloo said. “Could you imagine if we burst in on one of Rainbow Dash’s stunts? She needs total focus. The last thing Twilight needs is us barging in with wacky hijinks.”

Applebloom hooked Scootaloo’s neck and pulled her close. “Scoots!” she hissed, “you promised you wouldn’t tell anypony about that!”

“Huh?”

Scootaloo glanced at the nearby party-favor shop, just as Wacky Hijinks came out. His coat was charcoal black with hot-pink dapples, and his black mane was a straight curtain dyed with a rainbow of neon streaks.

Sweetie Belle’s eyebrows furrowed. “You still have a crush on Pinkie Pie’s nephew? I dunno what you see in that goof.”

Applebloom pawed at the ground with a hoof. “He makes me laugh. Thas’ all.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Nevermind. If we’re going to go pretend-camping, we might as well just sleep in the clubhouse.”

Sweetie Belle pouted. “That’s too much like a sleepover and not enough like camping.”

Applebloom looked at Ponyville’s public library, down the street. “I guess we can ask big sis about it later. There’s still a couple hours till sundown, any-who.” She turned and went back down main street.

A crackle of electricity surged around the trunk of the treehouse library, and an explosion echoed across the village. The Cutie Mark Crusaders looked back in shock. A blast of purple light radiated from every window.

All three of them shouted in unison. “Cutie Mark Crusaders emergency disaster response, go!”

They charged ahead but skidded to a halt as the library’s front door blew off its hinges. A cloud of shredded leaves and scorched paper burst out of every window.

“Whoa,” said Scootaloo. “Maybe we should leave this one to the professionals.”

Applebloom gasped as a rugged, wide-brimmed stetson landed on the road in front of them, singed around the edges.

“Big sis!”

She charged ahead at a gallop. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle shared a glance before chasing after her.

Applebloom ran into the library and looked around. The place was a mess, but there was no major structural damage: a few shelves had fallen over, and heaps of books were scattered across the floor.

Applebloom climbed over the debris, avoiding a number of sparking devices. She reached the top of the heap and looked down at the clearing in the middle of the room, where Spike was helping Twilight over to a table. She looked dazed and confused and her mane and tail were a mess, but she looked uninjured. She gasped as she saw Applejack sitting in a second chair: her eyes were hidden under a hair-dryer dome. Her mouth was slack.

“Sis, no!” Applebloom jumped down from the heap of debris and jumped onto Applejack’s lap. She pulled the restraints free and lifted up the hair drier. Applejack’s eyes were wide and staring.

“Sis?”

Applebloom waved a hoof in her face, with no response.

“Snap out of it, sis!” She stared into Applejack’s eyes. “Ain’t you gonna say something? Anything at all?”

Slowly, Applejack’s eyes wandered around the room. Applebloom moved over, putting her own face directly in front of hers. It took a few seconds for Applejack’s eyes to focus on her. She was still slack jawed.

Applebloom felt her own eyes sting with tears. “Wontcha say somethin’?”

Applejack looked down at the booklet in her hoof. Her lips moved, hesitantly, but no noise came out.

Applebloom lifted the booklet up to her face. “There! Is this what ya want?”

Applejack stared at the half-filled word puzzle on the page. “...That’s not how ya spell edjumacated.”

Applebloom hugged her around the neck. “Yer okay! I knew you’d be okay!”

Applejack held the booklet like it was a dead rat. “That’s my hoofwriting. Did I write this?”

Scootaloo dropped down from the pile of debris and walked next to the chair. “Is she okay?”

Applebloom poked her sister’s nose. “Don’t you remember me? Don’t you remember... anything?”

“Yer... Applebloom, ain’t ya?” Applejack watched her for a moment. She smiled, and some of the fog left her eyes. “Yer mah little sister. How could I ever forget you?”

Applebloom hugged her around the neck again, with an even bigger smile. “I knew you’d be alright! I just knew it!”

“No thanks to somepony,” Scootaloo said and pointed at Twilight. “Something fishy’s going on here.”

“It was perfectly safe,” Twilight said. “Applejack was just helping me with something.”

“Well, you could have explained it a little better,” Applejack said and climbed out of the chair. “Honestly, Twilight. You never explained any of this before we started.”

“I gave you all the pertinent details! I didn’t want to confuse you with the technical aspects.”

“Oh, is that so?” Applejack rolled her eyes as she walked to the table. “You thought I was too dumb to understand it, so you didn’t waste any time tryin’ to explain it.”

“I... I never said you were dumb!”

“It’s not a matter of bein’ dumb or smart. You still shoulda explained it in a way that woulda given me the jist of it.” Applejack sat at the table. “This misrepresentation of th’ facts is exactly the sorta gross negligence that leads to unethical scientific practices!”

“Misrepresentation?” Twilight sat upright on her cushion. “Everything I told you was true! I didn’t lie to you at all!”

Applejack squinted at her. “And what about lyin’ by omission? Thas’ a contextual falsity if ever there was one.”

“I... I’m...” Twilight slumped against the table. “You’re totally right. I’m so sorry, Applejack. Can you ever forgive me?”

Applejack’s frown softened. She gave Twilight a pat on the shoulder. “There, there. Ya didn’t do any real harm. And I know how important this experiment was to ya. If you’d explained everything, I woulda been glad to help.”

Twilight peered up at her. “...Really?”

“Well, shucks yeah! You did say it was safe, and that weren’t no lie. We all know you’ll do to run the river with.”

“...Huh?”

“It means yer reliable.” Applejack rubbed her head and looked around. “And ya did it all for science, right? I dunno what you were trying to do here, but I’m sure it was worth it.”

“Thank you so much, Applejack!” Twilight stood up and hugged her. “I’m so glad you understand!”

“Yeah, I...” Applejack trailed off, gazing at a nearby device. “I... understand.”

Twilight sat at the only library table that hadn’t been knocked over or covered with debris. She stared at the scroll in front of her, tapping her hoof against the table. She lifted her quill and scribbled something down, but stopped halfway through. She scratched a line through it and wrote something else underneath.

“Three minutes left,” said Spike.

Applebloom hopped onto a chair and watched her papers. “Is this a test or sumfin’?”

“Yes. It’s designed to measure the subject's general intelligence quota in a wide variety of subjects and fields.”

Applebloom glanced up at Twilight, then back at the papers. “Is this a sciency test?”

“Very much so,” she said. “The Cattle-Horn-Carroll theory describes two separate types of intelligence. There's crystallized intelligence, which is dependant on education and experience, and fluid intelligence, which—”

Spike waved a pocket watch in the air. “Two minutes,” he said.

“Right, right!” Twilight scribbled faster.

Applebloom glanced over at Applejack, who was sitting in a beanbag on the far side of the room. She was all by herself, staring wide-eyed at nothing in particular.

“I meant the science thingy,” Applebloom said. “Is this test a part of something sciency? Is that what Applejack was helpin’ you with?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a very important project for the princess herself. She offered to help.”

“Did she?”

Twilight frowned at her. “What are you implying? She volunteered for this.”

“I just wanted to know if she really did help you. If it was worth it.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Well that’s what we’re trying to find out right now. Analysis is always the most important stage of any experiment.”

“Experiment!?” Applebloom’s ears perked up. “You did an experiment on my big sis!?”

Twilight turned to give Applebloom her full and undivided attention. “We’ve been over this already. It was completely harmless, and she admitted herself that it was for an important purpose.”

Spike waved the pocket watch again. “Uh, Twi?”

Twilight leaned against the table and turned to look at him. "Spike, would you please stop distracting me? This is a very important topic, and—"

Her eyes fixed on the stern expression on Spike's face, then the pocketwatch in his hand.

“Aahh thirty seconds!” She said and scribbled voraciously. “Sixteen! Seventy-three! Four-thirds times pi times radius cubed! Green! Alexander Graham Bull! The butler did it! False-false-true-false-true-false-true-true-false-true!”

“Time,” Spike said. “Quills down.”

Twilight sighed and pushed the stack of papers across the table. Spike shuffled through them, jotting marks with a red-inked quill as he scanned the answer sheet.

“I hope it was all worth it,” Applebloom muttered. “I’d hate to think sis went through all this for nuthin’.”

"Fifty seven percent," Spike said.

Twilight sat upright, eyes wide. “I flunked!?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Pretty hard, too. If you sent this in to the canterlot university, they wouldn’t even send a rejection letter... just a postcard with the word ‘no’.”

“Woo!!” Twilight jumped up on her seat. “This is amazing! Wonderful! I can't remember the last time I flunked a test!”

Applebloom stared up at her slack jawed, one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry. It's complicated.” Twilight sat down and cleared her throat. “Spike, get the equipment ready. We need to see if my magical ability is similarly affected.”

Spike looked at the debris all around them. “You mean the equipment you took apart?”

“We’ll cobble something together. Just pick up anything that still functions and put it in a pile over there.”

Spike looked at the nearest device, still smoking. “That won’t be a very large pile.”

Twilight stood up and cast a spell. A swarm of mechanical parts hovered out of the mess and arranged themselves neatly in the air. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t have taken any of this apart if I couldn’t... whoa!” The spell flickered, and a few of the items wobbled in midair. Twilight fussed over the individual items and redoubled her effort. Slowly, the machinery reassembled itself.

“Twilight?” said Spike. “Are you actually having trouble with a spell?”

“Just a little. It took me by surprise.” Twilight set the assembled machine on the table. “I don’t remember the last time that’s happened to me.”

After a moment, Spike held up a hand. “High four.”

Twilight smacked a hoof against his hand. “Yes! This is wonderful... amazing! I can’t wait to get started!”

She stopped as she saw Applebloom. She and her friends were staring at her in confusion.

“Sorry.” Twilight settled back into her seat. “It’s complicated.”

Applebloom frowned at her. “What about big sis? Does she need a test?”

“Well, she—” Twilight glanced across the library. Applejack was nowhere to be seen. “Where’d she go?”

“You lost her!?” said Applebloom. “How do you lose an entire big sister?”

Twilight shrugged. “She’s already done her part, so there’s no need for her to stay. She probably just wanted to get back to her farm. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Applebloom galloped out the front door. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle chased after her.

Spike pointed a thumb at the door. “Shouldn’t you go help look for her?”

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Twilight levitated a metal filing cabinet back upright and searched through the contents. “Hurry up with that equipment.”

Applebloom raced through mainstreet. She tried to see through the crowd of shopping ponies, but she only came up to their shoulders. She couldn't hear anything over the laughter and conversation.

Scootaloo called from somewhere behind. “Applebloom! Wait up!”

Applebloom hurried along, and went to the nearest shopping stand. “Sir? S’cuse me, sir! Have you seen Applejack today?”

The stallion shrugged and went back to his work. Applebloom ran to the next stall, and the next, with the same question. After a minute, Scootaloo caught up with her.

“Applebloom! We’ll find her quicker if we work together!”

“I’m sorry, Scoots. She’s just so confused, and all alone...” Applebloom looked down, trying to ignore the sting in her eyes. “Grown-ups aren’t supposed to get lost.”

Scootaloo stepped next to her and hugged her neck. Applebloom sniffled and leaned against her.

“Hey! Over here!”

They looked up and saw Sweetie Belle waving at them. They ran over and saw a stallion and a pegasus mare talking to her.

“Hey Caramel Apple! And good morning, Wind Whistler!” Applebloom smiled at the couple. “We’re looking for Applejack. Have you seen her around?”

He nodded back down the street. “Just a minute ago. She was heading towards the farmer’s market.”

“Was she... okay?”

“Seemed so,” Caramel Apple said, “but she was taking her own time. Looked like she was just out for a stroll. She looked at some of the stalls, but didn’t do any shopping.”

“Windowshopping?” Applebloom said. “Applejack never just browses.”

“She did seem a little out of sorts,” Wind Whistler said, “like she wasn’t really sure where she was going. We even said hello, and she just walked past us.”

Caramel Apple nodded. “We figured she hadn’t heard us.”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders rushed down the road without a word.

Caramel glanced at Wind Whistler, and the two of them followed after.

Applebloom caught sight of a familiar blond ponytail, and shoved her way through the crowd. She came to the large white-canvas tent where farmers bought and sold crop seed. Ponies gathered to discuss baskets full of grain, and tree saplings in clay planters.

Applebloom rushed over, and saw Applejack standing by a table filled with tiny baskets. She didn’t chat with the mare behind the table, nor any of the other customers. She simply stared at the samples.

“Big sis!” Applebloom ran over to Applejack. “Are you okay?”

“Bloom?” Applejack snapped out of her trance. “I’m fine, bloom. Jes’ fine.”

Applebloom stamped her tiny hoof.“Then don’t you ever run off like that again! If you’d gotten lost or hurt, I wouldn't have had any way of findin’ you!”

“Sorry lil’ sis. I never meant to give you a scare. It won’t happen again, honest.” Applejack shuffled her hooves, then snapped upright. “Now wait just a second! I thought I was the older sis!”

“Shows what you know!” said Caramel Apple as he came through the crowd. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, fine. Why’s everypony askin’ me if I’m okay?”

“Just a minute ago, you walked right past us without saying hello.”

“Did I? I’m so sorry! I guess I didn’t notice y’all. I swear I never meant to be rude or nuthin’.”

“There, see?” Caramel Apple said. “She’s her old self, just like always.”

He gave Applebloom a pat on the back, and walked away with Wind Whistler.

Scootaloo looked at the Apple sisters. “So everything’s okay?”

“Sure is,” Applejack said. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“So, can we use one of your empty fields for a camping trip?”

“A field? What about the clubhouse?”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Too much like a sleepover...”

“...And not enough like camping,” finished Sweetie Belle.

“No can do girls,” Applejack said, “I’m gonna need those fallow fields for something.”

“Awwww...”

“Don’t you fret!” Applejack said. “There’s a perfect camping spot in the southwest field. It’s in a patch of trees right by the creek, and there’s cultivated fields on all sides. It’s just like a real forest, ‘cept you can’t possibly get lost.”

“That’d be great!” Scootaloo said. “I gotta go get my sleeping bag!”

“Just like a real forest?” said Sweetie Belle. “This is going to be so exciting!”

Applebloom followed her friends but paused to look back. Applejack was staring at the baskets of seeds, just like before.

“What do you need them fields for?” Applebloom said. “Aren’t they fallow?”

“Yeah,” Applejack said. “That means they’re no good for growin’ crops anymore.”

“Then whaddya need ’em for?”

Applejack looked at the table. “Clover.”

“Clover?” Applebloom tilted her head. “That’s kind of a specialty crop, isn’t it? I thought they only grew that in greenhouses.”

Applejack tipped over a basket of clover seed and watched the contents slowly spill on the ground. She pawed through the tiny heap for a few seconds.

“...Clover.”

“Oh... kay. See you later, I guess.” Applebloom watched her for a few seconds, then bolted back into the crowd.

The mare behind the table cleared her throat. “S’cuse me, Miss.”

Applejack pawed through the little pile of seeds on the ground.

“Miss Applejack? Are you going to be paying for that?”

“Clover.” Applejack looked up at her with a goofy smile. “It’s clover!”

“Yes it is. And will you be buying any?”

Applejack nodded to the mare. “A hundred and twenty pounds, please. Have it sent up to the barn. I’ll pay for it there.”

The mare’s eyes widened. “That’s enough for fifteen acres! What in the wide world of Equestria are you going to do with fifteen acres of clover? Applejack? Applejack!”

Applejack hummed to herself as she walked back into the crowd and down the street.

Heh... clover.

%i%: Twilight loses her glasses. Wait... she wears glasses?

8: Twilight loses her glasses. Wait... she wears glasses?

“Give me a smart idiot over a stupid genius any day.”

Samuel Goldwyn

Twilight put on her sleek, stylish reading glasses and examined a pair of reports. She took a quill and jotted a few notes in the margins.

“Hmm.”

Spike set a stack of books on the table and sat down beside her. “So?”

“According to these results, my intelligence has suffered a dramatic reduction in general aptitude and abstract thinking.”

“So, you’re dumber now?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m still well above the median intelligence for a unicorn of my age and educational background.” Twilight shuffled the second report. “According to these results, my magical aptitude has experienced a similar drop in quantifiable performance.”

“Does that mean you can mess up a spell now?”

“We’ll have to see.” Twilight nudged her glasses up on her forehead, just under her horn. “This seems to indicate a change in intellectual and magical amplitude. I still know all the same facts and spells as before. It’s my ability to... to...”

Spike watched her for a moment. “Yeah? To what?”

“To... coordinate.” Twilight shook her head and scrunched her eyes shut. “That’s not the right word. It’s my ability to make connections. What is that word?”

“Insight?” said Spike.

“No, not that. Nevermind. It’s not actually my intelligence we’re worried about. It’s my capability. I need to be less capable.”

“So, are you?”

“I’m fairly certain. We’ll just have to try another test, and see what happens. I’ll need my notebook, for starters.” Twilight glanced around. “Where’s my reading glasses, anyway? I had them right here.”

Spike pointed at her head.

“What?” she said. “Is there something on my face?”

Spike climbed onto the table and plucked her reading glasses off her forehead.

“Just get my notebook.”

Spike ran off and went into the basement.

Twilight continued jotting notes on the reports. She stopped and slapped her forehead. “Comprehension! That’s the word!”

“All right. Is the recording device ready?”

Spike hefted the newly rebuilt machine onto the table and poked each of the readouts. “I think so. Should we run a few tests, first?”

“This is a test.” Twilight nudged her reading glasses up onto her forehead and sat upright. “Just keep an eye out for funny readings, and we’ll fix it as we go.”

Spike scratched his ear. “That doesn’t sound right. Aren’t we trying to look for funny readings?”

“On the spell, yes. But not the readouts. Just start it up.”

Spike shrugged and activated the device. “Everything looks normal. So far.”

“Great.” Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe Spell test, number one. I will now attempt to cast a levitation spell on one hundred marbles at once, using a spell designed to simulate the collision of metal particles in a magnetic field.”

Spike looked up from the device. “Who are you talking to?”

“You. Aren’t you writing this down?”

“How can I take dictation while I’m checking the readouts?”

“Oh. Well, I’ll just write it down myself.” She took up her notebook and looked around for a quill. “Where did I.... I swear it was here a second ago.”

Spike pointed at her head and opened his mouth to speak, but Twilight cut him off.

“Yes, I know where my glasses are.” She flipped her reading glasses back into place and got up from her chair. “I’ll just get another quill from the closet. Be right back.”

Spike watched her go. “The writing closet’s that way.”

Twilight turned a one-eighty. “I just got turned around. That’s all.”

She went to the supply closet and came back with a fresh quill.

“There we go. It’s always important to keep good logs. Now then!” She tucked the fresh quill behind her ear, right next to the first quill.

Spike stared at her for a moment. “That was a joke, right? You do that on purpose.”

She blinked at him. “Did what on purpose?”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe Spell test, number four. I will now attempt to cast a condensing spell on a glass of saturated salt water in an attempt to grow crystalline structures without a material anchoring.”

Twilight stared at the glass of liquid. Her horn glowed, and the liquid began to bubble. Condensation formed along the rim of the glass and a wisp of steam floated up. The liquid began boiling away, despite being at room temperature.

Spike watched as the last of the liquid vanished. “Aren’t there supposed to be crystals?”

Twilight stared at the empty cup. She lifted up a scroll and scanned the contents.

“Ohhh... right.”

“So, did the spell fail?”

“No. I was just using the wrong spell.” She set the scroll down. “Let’s try this again.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s failsafe Spell test, number eleven. I will now attempt to cast a spell that will split a beam of white light into a spectrum of its constituent frequencies without the use of a prism.”

Twilight set a small lamp on the table, specially designed to cast a narrow beam of light. Her horn glowed and a small shimmer appeared in the air, several inches beside the beam.

“Um... Spike? Could you adjust the lamp a few degrees? The light needs to pass through the spell.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“I can’t move. The spell requires complete concentration.”

“Well, I can’t leave the readout unattended. Can’t you just move the spell so it touches the beam?”

“It’s not that simple,” Twilight said, “this spell isn’t attached to a physical object. It’s just a coordinate in space.”

“So move the coordinate. You do that sort of thing all the time, don’t you?”

Twilight stared at the beam of light.

“Let’s just start over.” She canceled the spell.

Spike sighed and began resetting the recording device. He paused and looked up at Twilight. “Hey.”

Twilight didn’t look up from her scroll. “What?”

“If you’d moved your hooves while concentrating, what would have happened?”

“Hard to say. It it probably would have messed up the spell.”

Twilight looked up from her scroll, eyes wide.

“Ohhh.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe Spell test, number eighteen. I will now attempt to cast a spell that will tabulate the total number of—”

“Nineteen.”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“We’re on test number nineteen.”

“That’s what I said. Nineteen.”

“No, you said eighteen.”

Twilight watched Spike for a moment.

She scratched out a line on her scroll and scribbled something underneath. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe Spell test, number nineteen. I will now attempt to cast a spell that will tabulate the total number of jellybeans in a jar without—”

“We already did the jellybean test.”

Twilight looked up from her scroll. “We did? When?”

“Just now. It was test number eighteen.”

Twilight glanced about the room. “No it wasn’t.”

Spike glared at her.

Twilight crumpled up the scroll and tossed it aside. “Let’s, uh... let’s take a break.”

Spike arched an eyebrow. “Do you need some time to think of a nineteenth test?”

“I’m just hungry, that’s all. One should never science on an empty stomach.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “Science isn’t a verb, Twilight. It’s a noun.”

“Well, one should never... do... science. On an empty stomach.” She left the table. “Nevermind. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Spike pointed at the kitchen. “It’s over—”

“I know, I know!” Twilight turned around and went to the kitchen. “I just got turned around. That’s all.”

“What do you mean, you lost them?”

Twilight pointed at the kitchen counter. “I put them down right there, just a minute ago. And now they’re nowhere.”

“Well, they sure aren’t on your forehead.” Spike looked around the kitchen. “Do you remember what you were doing when you lost them?”

“I don’t know. I was getting a sandwich. There’s only so many places you can make a sandwich, aren’t there?”

“Just trying to help. Whenever I lose something, I try to think about what I was doing the last time I saw it.”

Twilight sighed. “Oh, nevermind. Just get my spare set from the bedroom dresser.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe spell test, number twenty six. I will now attempt to change the colour of a flower by dipping it in water, and then adding food coloring to that water.”

Spike looked up from the measurement device. “What?”

“No really!” Twilight set a freshly clipped flower into a glass of water. “See, plants don’t have a cardiovascular system like we do. They have vessels that resemble veins and arteries, but they don’t pump blood through them. They rely entirely on capillary action.”

Spike looked at the glass of water. “They do?”

“You know how if you take a dry towel and dip the corner into water, it sucks the water up? It’s like that.” Twilight lifted an eyedropper over the cup and squeezed a few drops of purple liquid into the water. “See, plants have two separate networks of tiny tubes running all through them. The ‘xylem’ tubes bring water and minerals up from the roots, while the ‘phloem’ tubes carry sap down to get rid of the excess sucralose produced by photosynthesis.”

Spike stepped away from the device and went to the table. “Twilight?”

“It’s sort of like how our lungs absorb oxygen from the air, but they also get rid of carbon dioxide.” Twilight gasped and leaned down close. “Look-look-look it’s totally doing it! See? The petals are turning pink around the edges!”

Spike frowned at her. “Yes. I see it.”

“So cool! This was one of the first science projects I ever did. I even got second place in a science fair for it! I know it doesn’t seem like much, but...” Twilight sighed and leaned on the table. “Wow. This is really bringing back the memories, isn’t it?”

Spike watched the cup. “Twilight.”

Twilight looked up at him, still smiling. “Mm-hm?”

“This is cool and all, but what does any of this have to do with magic?”

Twilight gazed back at him, still smiling. “It, uh... well...”

Spike went back to the recording device. “Gimme a minute to reset the device.”

“What do you mean, the device is wrong?”

Spike opened up a panel of the recording device. “Dunno what to tell you. This is the third time in a row we’ve gotten goofy numbers, and they’re the same kind of goofiness every time. Three times in a row can’t be a coincidence.”

“I put that thing together myself. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Spike poked at the wires inside the machine. “Fact number one: Your last spell worked. Fact number two: the device said it didn’t work. They can’t both be right.”

Twilight’s eyes lit up. “Then my spell must have actually failed! This is wonderful!”

Spike pointed at a tea set on the table. “You cast a ‘brew some tea’ spell. And what did it do? It brewed some tea. How can you call that a failure?”

“Well, maybe it was really awful tasting tea.”

“You didn’t cast a ‘brew some tasty tea’ spell. And besides, there’s—” Spike reached further into the device, and paused. He pulled out a knife covered with blueberry jelly. Some wires were stuck to it.

“Oh that’s where I left it! I was making some adjustments while you were getting more scrolls, and I felt like a snack. Kind of funny, when you think about it.” Twilight levitated the knife and walked away. “I’ll go wash this off and put it away.”

Spike pointed across the room. “Kitchen!”

“I know, I know!”

“Twilight?” Spike knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you in there? We need to think of an idea for test thirty seven.”

“Uh... right. Just a minute.”

“You’ve already been in there for ten minutes.”

“Sorry... sorry. I just need to find something.”

“Find something? What’s going on in there?”

“My, uh... nothing. I know they’re in here.”

Spike frowned at the door. “Are they on your forehead?”

“I don’t think so.”

Spike crossed his arms. “Do you think... or do you know?”

There was a moment of silence.

“No. They’re definitely not on my forehead.”

“Well, when was the last time you...”

“In here, alright? I just put them down for a second to wash my face. I know they’re in here somewhere.”

“You lost your glasses in the bathroom? How is that even possible? It’s the smallest room in the library!”

“Give me a break, okay? I almost never wear them. I’m just not used to them is all.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they’re only reading glasses. How often do you read?”

Twilight opened the door and poked her head out, glowering. “Just get my spare set.”

“That was your spare set.”

Twilight’s anger changed to alarm. “I’ve got to have another set somewhere. Right?”

Spike stroked his chin.

Half an hour later, Spike came out of the basement covered in dust and cobwebs. He set an eyeglass case on the table in front of Twilight, and she turned them around and brushed them off.

“Dewy Decimal! Where did you even get these?”

“They were in a box marked ‘grade school stuff.’ They were all I could find.”

Twilight opened the case with a rusty squeak and took out the horn rim glasses within. Their frames were heavy and the lenses were thick as soda-bottle bottoms. One hinge was stuck together with tape and a bent paperclip.

Spike stared at the artifact. “I think those are older than I am. Are you sure they’ll work?”

“I don’t think my prescription has changed. Much.” She turned the eyeglasses around in midair. “I’m only short-sighted within twenty centimeters, but my parents didn’t figure that out until later on. The made me wear these all the time.”

“You, uh... don’t have to wear them. In public, I mean. We could order you a new pair.”

“My opthamologist is in Canterlot. I’m not wasting twenty-five bits on a same-night delivery just for this.” She put the glasses on and nudged them up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll order a new pair and use these until they arrive. It’ll only be a day or two.”

Twilight stood up from her chair, but leaned back in alarm. “Whoa... this might take some getting used to.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe spell test, number forty one. I will now attempt to cast a spell that will—”

A massive crash echoed from the kitchen. Spike and Twilight rushed over and saw a heap of pots and pans on the floor.

“Looks like the shelf fell apart,” Spike said, “but why would it do that all at once? It’s a pretty strong shelf.”

Twilight lifted up one of the pans. “Déjà vu. Why do I feel like this has happened before?”

“Wait a minute. This has happened before!” Spike lifted up the two halves of the broken shelf. “Remember when I stacked too many pots, and the shelf broke apart? Big Mac was gone for the week, so you used a spell to hold it together until he returned.”

“Oh, yeah,” Twilight said. “Wow... wasn’t that a couple months ago?”

“Eighteen months!” Spike hurled both halves of the board aside. “You were supposed to call Big Mac about it as soon as he returned!”

“Well, I guess I forgot.”

“You mean you’ve been maintaining a magic spell for a year and a half? And you didn’t even realize it!?”

“Maybe! I don’t know!” Twilight paced back and forth. “I juggle background spells all the time. I can’t be expected to remember every tiny little insignificant detail!”

Spike looked at the shelf. “Wait. Why did it break now? Did the spell wear off or something?”

“Well, even simple spells require some concentration. I was probably just distracted by all this science. Speaking of which, we should get back to work.” She went back into the main hall of the library.

Spike chased after her. “Twilight! Do you have any other spells going on?”

“I dunno. Probably a few, here and there.”

Spike ran in front of her and grabbed her face. “Twilight. Think. If this spell fell apart while you weren’t paying attention, then what else could go wrong?”

Twilight stared off into space. “Nothing... comes to mind.”

Spike let go of her face. He staggered a few steps back, then ran from the library.

“Raaaarity!” Spike sprinted down main street, waving both hands in the air. He clambered up the steps to Carousel Boutique and pounded on the door. “Rarity, help! Help, help, help!”

Rarity called out through a window. “It’s not even locked, Spike! Just come on in!”

Spike threw open the door, ran inside, and slammed it behind him. “Rarity! You’ve gotta help me! You’re the only other unicorn I know of, and—”

He froze in place as he saw Applejack standing on a podium, surrounded by mirrors. She was wearing a pressed black skirt and a button-down shirt, and was busy clasping a tie around her collar. Instead of her usual boots or cleated horseshoes, she was wearing glossy black one-inch heels. Rarity was holding an unfinished formal jacket against her, measuring the cuffs.

“What.” Spike pointed at Applejack. “Is that.”

“It’s jes’ a business suit, Spike. Ah figured it was about time I broke down and got one. Seein’ as how I do just happen to run a business.”

Spike walked to the podium. “But you hate fancy wear!”

“Fancy, yes. But formal?” Applejack shuffled her shoulders and lifted her nose. “It’s a sign of dignity and maturity. It shows that yer willin’ to be treated as an equal, even amongst a community of professionals. Mutual respect, and all that.”

“Very well said, Applejack!” Rarity said and wrapped a tape measure around her midsection. “Really, I don’t know how you got along without one before now. Everypony should own at least one good suit.”

“Actually, I kinda like it.” Applejack leaned to one side and examined her reflections. “I mean, it’s not an everyday sorta thing. But still.”

“No!” Spike staggered back and fell on the floor. “Not you too!”

“ ‘Not me too’ what?” Applejack said.

Spike ran from the boutique, shrieking. “Get away from me, pod-ponies!!”

“Rainbow Dash!! Heeeelp!”

“Spike?” Rainbow Dash peered down from the balcony of her cloud estate. “What’re you yelling about?”

“Emergency! Big! Twilight! Magic! Dumber! Pod-ponies!”

Dash hovered down next to him. “Slow down there, baby-scales. What’s the big deal?”

Spike climbed up onto Dash’s back and grabbed her mane. “It’s Twilight! I think something might have gone horribly wrong!”

Dash looked back at him, genuinely worried. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“I don’t know exactly how bad it is... but it’s bad.” Spike wrung his claws together. “I’m sure there’s magic involved, so I tried asking Rarity about it... but Applejack was right there with her. I couldn’t just spill the beans in front of her.”

“That’s just crazy talk. You can trust Applejack with anything.”

“She’s involved, somehow. I think it’s affecting both of them.” Spike’s bottom lip trembled. “It wasn’t supposed to, I swear! It was only supposed to affect Twilight!”

Dash landed in front of the library and shoved the door open. Spike hopped off her back and looked around the main hall.

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure something out. It can’t be—hold on a second.” Dash turned and pointed at someone by the reference shelf. “Geek!”

Twilight’s head shot up and she glanced around. “What? Where?”

“Twilight!?” Dash gasped in shock. “What’s with the glasses!?”

“I lost my usual pair. And my spare.” Twilight walked over, levitating a dozen fountain pens. The glow flickered, and the pens fell to the floor. “Dangit!”

Rainbow Dash stared, aghast, as Twilight struggled to levitate the heap of pens all at once. She clenched her jaw with effort and managed to lift half of them.

Dash pointed at them. “What’re... those?”

“Fountain pens. They’re less fuss than quills, and you don’t have to reload them with ink every twelve seconds.” She levitated one and removed the cap. “See here? The pen nib is connected to a little tube of ink that relies on capillary action to draw—”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, poindexter.”

“Um... kay. Is there anything I can do for you? I’m in the middle of a very important scientific experiment here.”

“Yeah, whatever. Spike was worried about some kind of disaster or something. Know anything about that?”

“You mean the shelves in the kitchen? They fell over.”

Dash eyed Spike. “Is that all?”

“Not that!” said Spike. “Twilight’s magical talent is fading, and some of her spells are falling apart! A long time ago, she used magic to fix the shelf. But we never got it for real fixed. So when the spell failed—”

“The shelf fell apart again,” Dash said. “So what’s the big deal? Get a new shelf.”

“It’s not that!” Spike said. “She could have other spells in place that she’s forgotten about!”

“I did remember something else, though,” Twilight said. “I keep daily reports of all my activities. We can look through them for reminders!”

“Really?” Dash said. “Well great then. Let’s get started.”

Twilight hefted a gargantuan stack of loose scrolls onto the table.

“There’s two more stacks like this in the back. And three more downstairs.”

Dash stared at the leaning tower of paper. “You keep daily records? Of everything you do?”

“Oh, yes! It’s like a diary and a spreadsheet at the same time. I could make spreadsheets all day! It’s almost as much fun as accounting, but not as—”

“Geek!” Dash shouted in her face.

Twilight adjusted her glasses and looked around. “What? Where?”

Dash clapped a hoof over her mouth. “I... I’m sorry! I dunno why I...” She stared down at her own hoof.

Spike pointed at the stack of papers. “There’s no way we can sort through these in time! There’s no telling what could fall apart next. Or when! We could have days, hours... maybe seconds!”

Dash pursed her lips. “So these spells of hers. They’re happening right now?”

“Yes! She’s gotten so good at it that she doesn’t even think about it anymore! She was keeping the shelves together—through sheer force of will—ever since we moved to Ponyville!”

“That’s kinda spooky. But what else did she...” Dash’s eyes widened. “...Oh. Oh no.”

Dash grabbed Spike and zoomed out of the library, leaving behind a rainbow trail that was crooked with ninety-degree angles.

“What do you mean, you don’t know!?” Dash pointed up at the massive concrete dam overlooking Ponyville. “If that dam breaks, again, it’ll flood all of Ponyville!”

The mayor shuffled through a hefty binder. “But it was fixed! The mysterious Mare Do Well used her magic to repair the damage completely!”

“Yeah,” Dash said and glared at Twilight. “She sure did.”

Twilight shook her head. “Technically, the damage wasn’t repaired. It was only being held together by magical force. There was no molecular bonding, and the physical structure alone probably isn’t enough to support the structure’s mass.”

“My goodness!” The mayor said. “But it looks pristine!”

“Looks can fool you,” Dash said. “Did you ever get an engineer to take a closer look at it?”

“I don’t think anypony even considered that,” The mayor said. She looked down at the binder and flipped through the last few pages. “I don’t see a receipt in here for construction work or an engineering assessment. Do you think we should have it reinforced, just in case?”

“It couldn’t hurt, that’s for sure. And I’d hurry.”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Twilight hopped in place. “I did some reading up on concrete! There’s all kinds of keen new aggregates on the market that are especially resistant to water damage! They’re made of extra fine particles that—”

“Geek!”

Spike, Twilight, and the Mayor all stared at Dash.

“Sorry!” Dash grabbed Spike and set him on her back. “Look, just get that dam taken care of as soon as possible. I need to look into something else.”

“What about me?” Twilight said.

“You’ve done plenty enough already, four-eyes!” Dash gasped and covered her mouth. “I didn’t... I gotta go!”

Spike pointed at Twilight. “You go back to the library and wait for us there.”

“But shouldn’t I help out? I can help!”

“No! We... we need you to... make a miniature volcano. Can you do that for us?”

Twilight gave him a single, resolute nod, and ran off towards the village.

Dash hovered up and streaked over the rooftops, heading straight for Carousel Boutique.

“Spike? Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do I keep saying mean things to Twilight? I never make fun of ponies and I hate bullies, but everytime I see her... I dunno. I just get the urge to shove her in a locker or something!”

Spikes’ eyes widened. “Dash, that’s horrible!”

“You think I don’t know that!?” Dash said. “I know it’s terrible, but I just can’t stop myself! It just spills out!”

Spike looked across the rooftops. “We’ll have to deal with one problem at a time.”

Dash burst into the boutique, knocking the door off its hinges. “Rarity! We gotta—”

Rarity slammed a hoof on her sewing table. She got up and walked to the door, glaring at them all the while.

“Rare? You okay?”

Rarity’s horn glowed and the door lifted up. She leaned it against the wall and pointed at the lever. “Put your hoof here.”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Would you relax, already?”

“Ut-ut-ut!” Rarity pointed at the lever.

Dash sighed and set her hoof on the lever.

“Now. Push it down.”

Grudgingly, Dash pushed the lever down.

“Marvelous,” Rarity said. “I’ll mail you the repair bill. What was it you wanted?”

“We need you to take a look at Twilight. She’s turned into a total geek!”

“So? She’s always been a little geeky. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Dash shook her head. “It’s getting worse. Way worse. Seriously.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?”

“It was magical!” Spike said. He hopped off of Dash’s back and fell to his knees. “Rare, you’ve gotta help us! You’re the only other unicorn we know!”

Rarity pursed her lips. “I’ll do whatever I can, but I can’t promise much. I’m not nearly as good with magic as Twilight is.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Dash said. “I’ll go get the others and meet up at the library.”

Spike glanced about the boutique. “What about Applejack? She isn’t here, is she?”

“She left an hour ago, actually. Said she had to write some letters.”

Spike wrung his claws. “Maybe we should leave her out of this for now.”

Rarity marched out through the broken doorway. “We all do this together, or not at all.”

By the time Rarity and Spike returned to the Library, it was nearing sunset. Rarity opened the front door and peered inside. The main room was dark.

“Twilight? Are you there? I think we need to talk.”

A staccato, high-pitched giggle echoed out from the darkness, punctuated by a series of snorts. A deep red light lit Twilight Sparkle’s face from beneath and cast a giant flickering silhouette against the wall behind her. A sizzling explosion of bloody-red foam burbled over the edge of the table.

“Eeeeeee!!” Rarity slammed back against the door. “Pleather Princesses of Phobos! What was that!?”

Twilight’s horn glowed and the lamps lit up the library. She pranced over with the clumsy gait of a month old deer, still giggling and snorting. Her thick glasses magnified her eyes into a distorted, googly horror.

“Hiya, Rarity! I was just testing my miniature volcano. I put a glass cup in the middle, and then put a really bright glow-crystal underneath it so it looks like the lava is actually on fire!” Twilight grinned, revealing a mouthful of sturdy dental braces. “Pretty neat, huh?”

Rarity pointed at the thick metal struts, wide-eyed and trembling. “Wh-wh-where did those come from!?”

“Where did what come from?”

“You’re teeth, dear! Sweet Celestia’s saddle pad, what did you put on your teeth!?”

“Oh these? They’re my orthodontic headgear. They’re supposed to fix my slight overbite, and my slight underbite.” Twilight’s smile faded. “I’ve had them since I was six. You never knew?”

Spike clenched his teeth. “Nopony knows because you use an invisibility spell to keep them hidden. Because you’re absolutely terrified that everypony will find out you wear braces.”

“Really? Wow. I guess it slipped my mind.” Twilight went back to the table and wiped up the foamy, red ‘lava.’ “I don’t see what the big deal is, really. I’m sure nopony will judge me by my appearance.”

“Right!” Spike said. He looked at Rarity, who was still slack jawed. He nudged her with his elbow. “Right?”

Rarity shivered and straightened her back. “Twilight? I’d like to see your volcano again. Why don’t you go set it up while I have a word with Spike.”

“Sure thing! Just let me get some more baking soda.” Twilight went toward the basement at a wobbly-kneed gait.

“Kitchen!” Spike said, and pointed.

Twilight spun around. “I know, I know. I just got turned around. Happens to everypony.”

Spike watched her go, then turned to Rarity. “So, what do we do?”

Rarity’s horn glowed, and every window shuttered shut. She leaned down with a harsh whisper. “Don’t breathe a word of this to anypony. Do you understand?”

“But... but you said we needed everypony’s help! Won’t they find out eventually?”

“Not if we can help it.” Rarity looked towards the kitchen. “This is far worse than I expected.”

Rainbow Dash zoomed over Ponyville. There were only a few ponies in the streets, enjoying the cool evening air.

All right, Dash... gotta get everypony to meet up at the library, and gotta do it fast. It’s pretty late, so everypony will probably be at home. She skidded to a halt over ponyville’s modest train station as she caught sight of a familiar straw-blonde ponytail. Or not.

She swept down low and landed on the loading platform, right next to Applejack. “Hey there! What’re you doing out so late?”

The orange earth pony turned to face her. She was wearing a formal black suit, complete with a red-striped tie and glossy high heels. Dash stared at her frameless oval glasses and the faint tint of makeup on her cheeks and eyelids.

“Oh, jeez! Sorry, lady. I thought you were somepony else.”

“I ain’t no ‘lady’,” Applejack chuckled, “I work for a living! Who’re ya lookin’ for?”

“Applejack!?”

“Well, who else would ah be?”

Rainbow Dash glanced around the train platform. “Seriously, A.J. What’s going on here?”

“Jes’ doin’ some business.” Applejack continued walking along the platform. “I visit the train station all the time.”

“At eight o’clock in the evening? You always wake up before dawn.”

“I’m actually on a pretty tight schedule here. I need to get something done by tomorrow evenin,’ or it won’t get done at all.”

Dash flinched as Ditzy Doo landed nearby. “Miss Jack?”

“Right. Here you go.” Applejack gave her a small stack of envelopes, stamped and addressed. “And come back A.S.A.P. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Dash looked at Ditzy Doo. “Since when did you start doing special courier jobs?”

Ditzy shrugged. “Since Applejack started paying me twenty five bits per delivery. She’s been sending letters all day!”

“Ut-ut-ut!” Applejack said. “I’d thank you to keep your non-disclosure contract firmly in mind.”

“Sorry, Miss Applejack.” Ditzy Doo flew away at full speed.

Rainbow Dash turned to Applejack. “What are you doing?”

“Writin’ letters. Can’t a pony write a few letters without an inquisition?”

“To who?”

“That’s confidential financial information. It’s jes’ bidness.”

“What kind of business?”

Applejack shot her a stern look. “None ah yours, that’s fer sure.”

Dash’s eyes widened “Are you actually keeping secrets?”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault the guv’ment afforded private corporations the same right to privacy that individuals currently enjoy. It’s allowed ten percent of the population to amass ninety percent of Equestria’s gross national product, and ah fully intend to lobby for its dismissal as soon as possible. But for the time bein’, it provides me with a degree of economic leverage that ah simpy can not do without.”

Dash tilted her head and flipped one ear up. “Wha-huh!?”

“I’ll explain it later. Maybe. But right now, I’m awful busy.” Applejack went to the front of the train and knocked on the door. “Howdy there! Is the conductor in?”

The door opened and a huge, burly, soot-covered stallion stepped out. He was head and shoulders taller than either of them. “Evenin,’ Miss Applejack. What can I do for you?”

“Thassa mighty fine choo-choo ya got there, mister!”

“Much obliged.” He kicked the side of the metal railing with a satisfying clunk. “Was my pappy’s train, and his pappy’s before. This here locomotive was the first cargo express that came to Ponyville. Practically the lifeblood of the frontier! We’re real proud of her, and she’s got at least another decade in her yet.”

Applejack shot him a winning smile. “I’ma buy yer train, please.”

“A shipment, eh? How many carts do you need to rent?

“Not rent. Buy. As in purchase.”

The stallion straightened up. “Why would you wanna buy a flatbed? It won’t go nowhere without a steamer.”

“Clearly. I’m fixin’ to buy the whole train.”

The stallion glowered down at her. “Now listen here, missy. The old girl’s been in the family for two generations, and I’m not about to leave my crew out in the rain. She’s not to be bought nor sold for anything.”

Applejack scribbled in a small booklet, tore off a strip of paper, and held it in front of the conductor's face. His eyes fixed on the number of zeroes written on its surface.

Applejack shot him another winning smile. “I’ma buy yer train, please.”

The conductor took the slip of paper and went back into the cabin. When he came out, he was wearing a tilly hat and a garishly colored tropical shirt. He had a fishing pole over his shoulder and a pair of saddlebags full of tackle. The rest of the train’s crew stared at him as he wandered away, whistling to himself.

“Y’all want yer jobs back?” Applejack called out. “There’s full medical.”

One of the stallion called down from a window. “What about dental?”

“Darn tootin’!” Applejack said. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away, doesn’t it?”

Dash ran over to her. “Are you crazy!? Nopony just buys a whole train!”

“Actually, yes. They do. In fact, every train currently in operation is privately owned by a wealthy individual or family.” Applejack gazed up at the giant steam engine. “Until now, that is. This here is the proud new property of Sweet Apple Acres!”

“But... sweet apple acres is your family!”

“As of this mornin’ it’s Sweet Apple Acres Incorporated. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a quick chat with my new employees. Time is money, and all that.”

Rainbow Dash skidded to a halt in front of the library and opened the door as quickly as she could. Spike and Rarity stopped arguing as she came in.

Dash slammed the door behind her. “Okay. We are now officially living in Freaky Town.”

Rarity ran over to her. “Did you tell the others? Are they on their way?”

“Sorry, no. I got kind of sidetracked by something.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Rarity dragged Dash over to a table and sat her down. “We can’t let anypony find out about this. It would reduce Twilight’s already tenuous social life to complete and utter ruin!”

“Why? Did you figure out what’s going on?”

Rarity took a breath. “Spike explained as much as he could. Apparently, Twilight used a spell on herself and Applejack. It was supposed to reduce Twilight’s intelligence to Applejack’s level.”

Spike wrung his claws together. “She wanted to make herself dumber so she would mess up a spell. I swear, it was never supposed to do anything to Applejack!”

“Well it did!” Dash said. “She’s gone completely bonkers. She was wearing a business suit. In public. Just five minutes ago, she bought a whole train. She’s also been writing letters since yesterday, non-stop. No idea where they’re going but she’s paying Ditzy Doo a fortune to deliver them in a hurry!”

“The suit,” Rarity whispered. “I should have known something was up. I should have seen the signs.” Rarity sat down with sigh. “At first I thought Twilight had simply transferred her intelligence to Applejack. But this is more than just raw intellect: Twilight is technically still a genius.”

Spike held up a sheaf of papers. “She passed an advanced calculus exam with flying colors, and yet she can barely remember what day of the week it is. She’s using fountain pens because she can’t remember how to sharpen a quill. She can’t even dress herself properly!”

“So she’s a geek,” Dash said. “Wasn’t she always a geek?”

Rarity shook her head. “A geek is competent. Resourceful. They’re quirky and eccentric, but still good natured about it. They can still function in society. They even have their own social cliques. At the moment, Twilight doesn’t have any of that. She’s not a geek anymore. She’s... she’s a...”

Dash leaned forward. “A what?”

Rarity shut her eyes and looked away. “A nerd.”

Some of the colour drained from Dash’s face. It took her several seconds to find her voice steady. “Oh, god. We gotta... we gotta do something. What can we do?”

“I’m sorry, Dash. There is no cure.” Rarity shook her head. “With enough effort she might be able to lead a normal life, but there’s nothing we can—”

“Don’t give me that!” Dash said. “This was because of a magic spell, wasn’t it? There must be some way to undo it! You’re a unicorn, aren’t you? Do some kind of magical boogidyboo!”

“The mind-switcher spell didn’t change her, Dash! It amplified something that was already inside her. It was buried in the darkest corners of her psyche... she was always a nerd!”

“Shut up! Just shut your face!” Dash shot up from her seat and slammed her front hooves on the table. “Don’t you dare call her that! She’s our friend!It’s not true!”

Rarity and Spike both recoiled. Dash lowered her head, shoulders trembling. A few drops fell to the table.

There was a distant crash of thunder outside. Drops of water spattered against the windows.

“It’s not true.”

“There’s still hope. She kept it from us all this time, so she must have had coping mechanisms... mental techniques to get her through life, one day at a time. The spell may have interfered with that. If we can reverse the spell, she might go back to the way she was before.” Rarity stood up and went to Dash’s side, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “But that won’t change what—or who—she is.”

Dash slapped her hoof aside and stomped away. She went to the front door and leaned against the frame, watching the fresh rainfall.

Rarity went to her side. “She’s still our friend. This doesn’t change anything.”

“It might.” Rainbow Dash clenched her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Rarity. I can’t help her.”

“But she needs us! Now more than ever!”

“I think you’re better off without me for now. I’d only do more harm than good.” Dash flew off into the rainy night.

Rarity looked back at Spike. “We’re on our own for this, Spike. Get Twilight.”

Spike nodded, and jogged to the kitchen. He immediately ran back out. “She’s gone!”

“Gone!?” Rarity said. “What do you mean, gone? Where was the last place you saw her?”

“I dunno! In the kitchen! She was refilling her miniature volcano or something! She must have wandered out through the side door!”

“You let her leave the building!” Rarity grabbed Spike and shook him by the shoulders. “Are you absolutely mad!? She’s in no state to walk about in public! Someone could find out about her!”

“Maybe... maybe she’s in the basement! Or the bedroom!”

“Search the library, top to bottom! If she isn’t here, we’ll have to search the entire village!”

Spike nodded and ran to the basement.

Rarity went into the kitchen and stared at the papier-mâché volcano, lovingly sculpted and painted. She peered down at the tiny wire-frame figures of native pony villagers, perpetually fleeing in terror.

Oh, Twilight... how long have you been holding this in? Why didn’t you tell us? Did you think we wouldn’t understand? Rarity looked away. Could we have?

Her ears perked up as she saw a faint dusting of white powder on the floor. The pantry cupboard was slightly ajar. She opened it up and peered inside. A small box of baking soda was resting on its side, completely empty.

A creeping horror trickled along her spine.

“Spike. I know where she’s gone.”

Pinkie Pie hauled a platter of tiny creme puffs into the main room of Sugarcube Corner, where a crowd of colorful ponies talked and laughed. Streamers hung on every wall fixture and confetti carpeted the floor. There were bright colored lights everywhere, and a live three-piece band drowned out the dreary rainfall outside.

“Hey, everypony! Who wants seconds?”

The crowd closed in around her, smiling brightly. She struggled to keep the platter even but by the time she set it on the table, it was empty.

“Geez, guys!” she giggled. “It’s a good thing I already have a third helping in the oven.”

The crowd cheered, and a chorus of paper noisemakers sounded off.

Pinkie Pie headed back for the kitchen, but stopped to watch a game of pin-the-tail-on-the-pony. The party’s guest of honor was just taking off her blindfold.

“Nice pin, Storm!” said Pinkie. “Having fun?”

“Are you kidding? This is the best party ever! Thank you so much, Pinkie Pie!”

“Hey, it’s not everyday somepony gets promoted to captain of the cheerleader squad! I bet you’ll be a professional cheerleader after you finish college!”

“Wow, really? I dunno... I’m not that good.”

A powerfully built colt called out from the crowd. “Are you kidding? The Ponyville Puffins never could have won last year's game without you.”

“Yeah,” another colt said, “remember that three tiered victory pyramid you did? Amazing! You shoulda seen the other team’s faces!”

Storm’s smile became less bashful as the crowd cheered its support. Pinkie Pie took her empty platter and went back towards the Kitchen, humming along with the dance music.

All at once, the lights went out. The crowd groaned and jeered, and the music came to a halt.

“Whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay!” Pinkie Pie shouted. “Probably just the storm. It’ll be back on in a minute!”

“Well, what do we do until then?”

“We got a fireplace, don’t we?” Pinkie Pie said. “Let’s roast some marshmallows and make smores! Everypony loves s'mores, right?”

There was a round of cheers, but a loud thump at the front door cut it off. Everypony looked to the entrance, whispering.

“There’s somepony still out there? It’s raining cats and dogs!”

“Let ’em inside already,” somepony said, “they were probably late to the party.”

Pinkie Pie glanced about the darkened room, taking stock of every face or cutie mark in attendance. She couldn’t be sure, but she had a feeling the invitation list was fully accounted for. The crowd grew restless as the thumping continued.

“Well, somepony should open it. Right?”

The crowd turned to look at Pinkie Pie. Slowly, she walked to the front door. She looked back at the crowd and noticed they’d all backed away from her.

“Get back to it, everypony!” she said with a tentative smile. “This is a party, isn’t it?”

The crowd murmured. Pinkie set her hoof on the door latch and pushed it down.

The door swung open violently and a blast of frigid air swept through the room. A lone figure stood in the doorway: a crack of lightning lit her from behind and Pinkie Pie gasped in horror.

“Hiya neighbor! Do you think I could borrow some—”

Pinkie Pie slammed the door shut and pressed her back against it. She gasped for breath and her heart pounded in her ears.

Storm stepped out from the crowd. “Who was it?”

Pinkie Pie pointed at the back of the room. “Everypony out the back door! Now!”

“But the party—”

“Is over!” Pinkie Pie shouted. “There’s no time to explain!”

There was a second crack of lightning, louder and nearer than the first. The room flickered with white-hot light and—in between those flickers—a lavender unicorn appeared in the middle of the room. She was simply... there. Her horn rim glasses gleamed in the light and a lunatic grin revealed a grid of metal struts clamped over her teeth.

No! It’s impossible!

All at once, the lights came back on. Everyone stared at Twilight as she closed a metal panel in the wall. “There we go! These magi-crystal circuits tend to glitch out when there’s a storm. All you had to do was unplug the secondary capacitor array and flip the heliotropic resonance anode. But I mean, duh... obviously. Good thing I always keep a soldering iron on me!”

Pinkie Pie stared at her, searching for any remnant of her friend in those demented, fun-house mirror eyes. “Please, no... nooo!” Her voice was barely a whisper.

The crowd backed away. “Who’s that?” Somepony called out.

“Nopony!” Pinkie Pie shouted. She ran in front of Twilight and shielded her from the crowd with her own body. “She’s just... a visiting crazy pony! She’s nopony!”

“Golly Pinkie Pie, I thought you knew everypony in town. I’m Twilight Sparkle! Actually, my middle name is Gertrude. So it’s Twilight Gertrude Sparkle.”

“No!” Pinkie Pie hissed at her, pleading. “No, you’re not! Please don’t be!”

Twilight levitated a measuring cup into view. “Do you think I could borrow a cup of baking soda? You live in a bakery, so I thought of you. I’m making a super-cool miniature volcano, and it’s gonna be totally non-trivial! Y’see, when you mix acids and bases together it produces a chemical reaction that—” She trailed off as she looked around the room.

“Now Twi,” Pinkie whispered. “Let’s not do anything hasty.”

“Hey, wow! Is this a party? Is there Karaoke? I love karaoke!”

Twilight reared up and brayed a few broken notes from a song that had been inexplicably popular fifteen years ago. The crowd stampeded in utter panic, fleeing into the other rooms and leaping out doors and windows.

“Hey wow! I didn’t know there were boys at this party! Who wants to dance?”

One of the stallions from the soccer team uttered a high-pitched squeal of terror and fainted. Pinkie Pie tried to regain control of the panicked crowd, but it was too late. The screaming had already begun. She wondered, in the back of her mind, if this hideous puppet had somehow retained Twilight’s ability to teleport. If so, there was no point in running.

There would be no escape.

%i%: Into every generation, a seamstress is born...

9: Into every generation, a seamstress is born...

“If your culture doesn't like geeks, you are in real trouble.”

Bill Gates

The door to Sugarcube Corner hung ajar, banging against the frame at semi-regular intervals. A chill breeze flowed across the floor and rippled the curtains. Pale shafts of moonlight lanced between the shuttered windows.

Starlight huddled under the snack table, hiding her head under her curly blond mane. She watched the tablecloth as it moved in the breeze. She listened to the softly thumping door and heavy rain. She couldn’t hear anypony else. No footsteps. No voices. No friendly laughing or talking. No screaming, either.

Maybe she’s gone. Maybe it’s over. Starlight tried to keep her breath quiet. She’d been frozen under the table for what seemed like an hour. I should look. Just a quick peek.

Starlight pressed the side of her head to the floor and peered out from under the tablecloth. She couldn’t bring herself to lift the cloth up: if there was somepony still in the room, they might see it. She didn’t see any feet. The floor was covered in discarded party favours and spilled desserts. A gust of wind came in through the door and a whorl of confetti danced in the air. She watched the door as it drifted back and forth.

The door. It’s right there. It’s not locked. It’s not even closed all the way. I can make it. Starlight stared at the door. The thumping noise blurred with the pounding pulse in her ears. It’s right there, Starlight. Just go. You’ll be fine. There’s nopony else in the room.

She tensed, muscles trembling. Her teeth chattered. She remembered how she’d appeared out of nowhere. No warning at all.

“Just go!”

Starlight’s own voice startled her. She bolted from under the table, dragging the tablecloth behind her. A stack of paper cups toppled over and a half-full bowl of punch spilled on the floor. Her vision trembled as she sprinted for the exit.

The door swept open and a figure stood in the archway, dressed in black: a long trenchcoat and a wide-brimmed hat that sluiced the rain aside. She stood as if braced for battle.

Starlight screamed and fell backwards. The figure swept down on her like a spectre, with its long coat flapping behind her. A firm but gentle hoof pressed against her mouth, silencing her scream. The figure glanced about the room. She looked back at Starlight, but her face was obscured by the shadow of her hat.

“Shh.” She released her mouth and helped her stand. “She’s near. I can sense it.”

“Who... who are you?”

The figure took off her hat, revealing the face of a pure white unicorn. She was wearing makeup and her hair was a stylish cascade of indigo spirals, but there was a sternness in her eyes that contrasted sharply against her beauty.

“Something has escaped into the night. Something this village is not prepared for.” She hefted a book wrapped in plain brown paper, and a crossbow loaded with a suction cup tipped arrow. “But I am.”

Starlight stumbled to her feet. “Wait... I think I’ve seen you around. Don’t you run the boutique?”

“During the day, yes. But at night?” The unicorn stepped further into the room. “I do what must be done.”

Starlight followed after her, tentatively. “But you’re just a seamstress.”

“Somepony has to step forward. You can’t draw a line in the dirt if you’re afraid to get dirty. And as soon as somepony else decides that Ponyville is worth fighting for, I’ll be perfectly pleased to step down. But until then... I’m all you’ve got.”

“Heh. I guess a seamstress is better than nothing. Sort of.”

The seamstress marched further into the bakery, crossbow in front. “Are there any others?”

“No wait, you can’t go in there! She’s might still be in the building. She might get you.”

“Not if I get her first.” She went into the pantry and led out three other party guests, huddled together in terror. “I have to sweep the entire structure. If there are any others left, I’m their only hope.”

One of the huddled refugees spoke up. “Starlight? Is that you?”

Starlight ran to one of the refugees and hugged her tight. “Storm, you’re okay!”

“I’m sorry,” Storm said, “I just ran into the kitchen when the lights went out. I wanted to come back for you, but... but I...”

“It’s okay,” Starlight said, “everything will be okay.”

“It isn’t okay yet.” The unicorn took a set of keys out of her pocket and gave them to Starlight. “Go to Carousel Boutique and stay there. If I find any others, I’ll send them to join you. Bundle them up nice and warm and make sure they drink lots of fluids. And whatever you do, don’t let anypony leave before dawn.”

Starlight bit her lip. “Do you know what’s really going on?”

The unicorn herded them back to the front door. “Trust me, child. You’re better off not knowing.”

They hurried outside and into the pounding rain. Starlight looked back as the unicorn turned away.

“Wait! We never got your name! Who are you?”

The figure stopped. After a moment, she looked back.

“Who am I?” Only the lower half of her face was visible between the brim of her hat and the high collar of her trenchcoat: Her pristine white complexion glowed against the jet black garments. “Just a seamstress.”

She charged into the bakery with a flourish of her coat and vanished in the darkness

Rarity crept up the stairs with her crossbow ready. Her eyes darted to every dark corner, but her pace never faltered. She reached the top and glanced down the hallway. She crept to the nearest door and listened carefully. She could hear faint hoofbeats... rustling noises. She removed the plain brown wrapping from her book and held it at the ready.

No idea if this is going to work... but it’s worth a try.

Rarity kicked the door open, somersaulted forward, and landed in a kneel with her crossbow up. In the center if the room a pale blue pony with flowing pink hair was crouched over an unconscious partygoer. Her mouth loomed near the victim’s neck, and a pair of long fangs glistened in the moonlight. Her wings were outstretched: the membranous wings of a bat.

Rarity and the pony stared at each other for an awkward moment.

“Aloe!?” Rarity said.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Rarity looked at her fangs and wings, then back at the unconscious victim.

“Tell me, Aloe. What does it look like? I’m keen to know.”

Aloe immediately put her mouth on the victim’s mouth and forcibly exhaled three times. “Live, darn you! Live!” She sat up and set her hooves against the victim’s chest, pressing down repeatedly. She glanced up at Rarity with a small, nervous smile.

Rarity arched a single eyebrow.

Aloe sighed. “Okay, so it’s totally what it looks like.”

“You’re a vampony? You?”

“Please oh please don’t tell anypony! It’s just a side job, really. More of a hobby.” Aloe’s bottom lip trembled. “Please don’t stab me with something pointy! Pretty please?”

“Actually, I didn’t bring any vampony stuff with me. I didn’t even know they were real.” Rarity lowered her suction-cup crossbow. “Vamponies are real? Seriously? No way! But you walk around during the day all the time. Why haven’t you burst into flames or something?”

“Sunlight isn’t dangerous to us,” Aloe said, “and I use sunblock to keep the sparkling down to a reasonable level.”

“Vamponies sparkle in the sun?” Rarity frowned at her. “I can’t believe I wasted three years trying to figure out what kind of glittery body shampoo you use.”

“Do you like it? I could make you a vampony, you know. Then you’d be extra sparkly! And pretty! What do you think?” Aloe made an extra pouty face and fluttered her eyelashes. “Vamponies are cool... right?”

“Don’t even go there.” Rarity glanced around the room. “What about your sister? Does she know about this?”

Aloe shook her head. “No. Not a clue.”

Lotus landed on the windowsill, fangs and wings exposed. “Sis, you won’t believe it! I found the captain of the soccer team in the next room over. He’s got some lovely blood!”

Aloe gave Rarity a nervous grin. “Okay. Maybe she knows a little.”

“Wait... that’s Rarity!?” Lotus jumped into the room and wiggled her hooves in front of Rarity’s face. “Vampony powers of mesmerism powers, wooo! You forget all! Your mind is blank! Blaaank!”

Rarity glowered at her, unamused.

“Yes! Perfect! Just like that!” Lotus continued to wiggle her hooves. “Oooh-woooo! You will give me twenty bits!”

Rarity’s horn glowed and a nearby broom swept in front of them. “Out! Out, both of you! Shoo! Go on!”

There were two puffs of sparkly makeup as the twin beauticians transformed into blue and pink bats. Rarity continued to swat at them with the broom until they flew out the window.

“Honestly.”

Rarity crept through the second story of the bakery, peeking into each room as she passed. She’d already rescued everyone on the invitation list, which meant that—barring party crashers—there were only two other ponies left. She wondered which of them she would find first... or if one of them would find her.

“—Anypony there? Please help!”

That was Pinkie Pie’s voice! Rarity ran back and looked in the den. The fireplace was dark and cold, and a set of large bookshelves obscured the far end of the room. She stepped inside, warily.

“—Nopony else left! I’m all alone! Can anypony hear me?”

Rarity searched the room for the source of Pinkie Pie’s scratchy, distorted voice. It was coming from a large, overstuffed armchair by the fireplace. She approached it from behind, readying herself for what might be sitting there. She rushed ahead the last few steps, and pointed her weapon at the chair. It was empty.

But where—?

“—Trapped! No way out! Please, can someone get me out of here?”

Rarity stared at the old-fashioned radio on the end-table.

“—So scared! I wish my friends were here! Oh, where are they? I’m down to my last box of peppermints!”

“It’s all Right, Pinkie Pie. This is Rarity. Rarity’s here.” She grabbed the radio and turned it around. “Where... where are you? How do I get you out?”

“—So scared! So cold! She looks like Twilight, but she’s—I can’t get out of—must be some— the attic! Look in the attic! It’s our only hope—”

The crackling voice faded into a wave of static. The Radio went dead.

Rarity went through Pinkie Pie’s second-story living room and pulled down the trapdoor in the ceiling. A set of rickety stairs lowered into place and she climbed the steps two at a time. She came to the attic at last: a dusty, triangular-roofed room that was empty, save for a few crates. A series of loud, creaking hoofbeats echoed from nearby... from downstairs? Or on the roof, perhaps? The steps faded out.

Rarity searched the room. There was nothing behind the crates. She looked back to the stairwell, and saw a heavy fire-door in the far wall. The only place left to search. Rarity readied her tattered book and sent up a prayer to Celestia... hoping against hope that the old pony-tales were more than just paltry superstition. She pointed her weapon at the door, pressed down on the handle, and opened it.

The door burst open and Pinkie Pie tackled her to the ground,hugging her neck and sobbing.

“Pinkie Pie!?” Rarity looked to the closet and saw a hobbyist’s radio transmitter. There was a nest of empty candy wrappers and party favor bags. “If you were in there, then where is Twilight? Can you tell me what happened?”

“It was horrible!” Pinkie Pie said. “The party was going great... everypony was having fun. And then... she showed up! There was singing—horrible, horrible singing—and then there was screaming!”

“Do you mean Twilight? Is she still here?”

“No!” Pinkie Pie shouted. “It’s not her! It can’t be!”

Rarity hugged her tight. “Shh... it’s alright. We’ll make things right again. I promise.”

“Really?”

Rarity gave her a warm, soothing smile. “I promise. Everything is fine now.”

Pinkie Pie’s tentative smile became a look of utter terror and her eyes focused on something behind Rarity.

Rarity spun around and came face to face with Twilight Sparkle... but at the same time, not Twilight. Their noses were inches apart. She was grinning, but her face was upside-down. She was standing on the ceiling.

“Hiya, friend! Wanna hang out?” A crash of lightning lit her up from behind. “I’m cool, right? My mom says I’m cool!”

Forgive me.

Rarity whipped her crossbow around and pulled the trigger. The suction cup slammed into Un-Twilight’s body and sent her crashing through the attic’s tiny circular window. A length of fine silver chain spooled off, and a second press of the lever pulled the missile back into place.

“Pinkie Pie! We have to get you out of here!” Rarity set the tip of the crossbow on the floor and stamped a hoof against a metal lever, cocking the weapon with one powerful heave. “Once we get you to the front door, you can go to the boutique by yourself. You’ll be safer there.”

“But what about the others? We can’t just leave them here!”

“I’ve already evacuated the building. It’s just the three of us. And once we get you out of here...” Rarity lifted the crossbow. “...It’ll be just the two of us.”

“No, you don’t understand! Nowhere’s safe! There’s no—”

There was another flash of lightning. Rarity spun around and saw Un-Twilight standing beside her. “Was that a party game? Did I win? I wanna try again!”

Pinkie Pie’s voice was barely a whisper. “...No escape...”

Right. She can wink. Rarity whipped out her book and brandished it at Un-Twilight. “Back, foul puppet! The power of righteousness compels thee!”

Twilight’s eyes fixed on the book. “Is that—?”

“Yes!” Rarity said. “A deluxe edition of the original stage script for ‘Star Horse, Episode One: The Palomino Menace!”

Un-Twilight’s eyes sparkled. “And it’s signed by George Equus himself! Golly gee whiz, I love that radio play!”

Rarity threw the book aside, and Un-Twilight immediately dove for it. “Hey, that’s a priceless collector's item!”

Rarity grabbed Pinkie Pie and dragged her downstairs. “Kindly move your flank, Miss Pie. There’s no telling how long it’ll keep her busy.”

Pinkie Pie got to her feet and chased after her. “That was Twilight? How is that possible?”

Rarity shook her head. “She’s been corrupted from within. She was always a geek, and a masterful one at that... but something has changed her into a nerd.”

“A nerd?” Pinkie Pie said. “You mean nerds are real!? I thought they were all just old pony-tales!”

“Not so. Nerds once terrorized all of Equestria, disrupting social and cultural events wherever they went. The government tried to suppress them, but their technical and scientific skills were far too valuable to dispose of. Fortunately, a few nerds mastered their inner demons and ascended to a higher level of existance. They became geeks.”

“But what’s the difference?”

“The difference,” Rarity said,“is thinner than a thread. Nerds pay a terrible price for their brilliance. They have—absolutely—no life.”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes widened. “But... how can you slay that which has no life?”

“You cannot destroy emptiness,” Rarity said, “it can only be filled. We must hope that Twilight has the force of will to reverse her metamorphosis and reclaim her former glory. She must rediscover her inner geek.”

“Hiya, gals!”

Pinkie Pie screamed and hid behind Rarity’s trenchcoat.

Un-Twilight advanced on them, grinning as she flipped through the pages of the script book. “Wow, I don’t remember the last time I heard this on the radio! Have you guys heard it? I remember the whole thing by heart!”

Rarity took a step back. “Oh. Oh Celestia, no... please don’t start quoting!”

“Do you remember that one part? Huh? Do you?” Un-Twilight advanced on them and waved a hoof. “You don’t need to see his identification. These are not the clockworks you’re looking for!”

Rarity shoved Pinkie Pie back. “Run! It’s only made her stronger!”

They fled into the next room. There was a flash of light, and Un-Twilight was waiting for them. She hadn’t moved a muscle. “I find your lack of faith disturbing!”

They fled again, ever more desperate. Un-Twilight preceded them every step of the way: appearing in corridors and stairwells, poking her head through windows and out of cupboards, walking along walls and ceilings. They ran to the front door, but Twilight was waiting for them in the rain just beyond.

“Evacuate in our moment of triumph?” Un-Twilight said with a giggle. “I think you overestimate their chances!”

Rarity leaned back, eyes darting around. There were no other exits.

Pinkie Pie peeked out from behind her coat. “So how do we get around her?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I wasn’t expecting to get this far.”

“This is some rescue,” Pinkie Pie said, “you came in here, and you didn’t have a plan for getting out?”

Un-Twilight snorted. “Hey, that’s a good one!”

“Thanks!” Pinkie Pie said. “Princess Neigha was always my favorite character. I wish more Princesses were that plucky!”

Rarity glared back at her. “Whose side are you on?”

Suddenly, the lights flicked on. Rarity, Pinkie Pie and Twilight all froze in place.

“What is going on here? Just look at this mess!”

They turned around. Mr. and Mrs. Cake were standing behind them in fluffy bathrobes and slippers.

“Sorry if we woke you up!” said Pinkie Pie. “You said I could throw a party for Storm, remember?”

Mrs. Cake frowned at her. “I never said you could make a mess this big! What were you thinking? You’re just lucky you didn’t wake up the twins with all that shouting!”

Pinkie Pie looked downcast. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

“And why was the upstairs bathroom door broken off its hinges?”

“That was me, actually. I barged.” Rarity took her hat off and sheepishly held it in front of herself. “There was some barging. A very reasonable amount, I assure you.”

“I hope you realize you’re paying for the repairs. Honestly, none of those doors were even locked! Haven’t you ever heard of a door latch?”

“Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

Mrs. Cake pointed at Twilight. “And how long has the front door been open? The whole house is freezing cold!”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Twilight came in and closed the door behind her. “I guess I just forgot.”

Mr. Cake stared at the ruined room. “We can’t possibly open the bakery in this state! Miss Pie, you’re very lucky we have a day trip tomorrow. You have until then to clean everything up and if it isn’t spotless by the time we return, we’ll have to rethink your party-throwing privileges.”

“I’m very disappointed in you girls,” Mrs. Cake said. “You all go home and think about what you’ve done.”

The three ponies mumbled their apologies as they left the bakery.

Pinkie Pie sat on a beanbag in the public library. There was a picture book beside her, unopened. She looked up at the clock on the wall: not long until dawn.

She looked at the reinforced door that led to the storeroom. It’s been hours... what’s going on in there?

Fluttershy opened the front door and came inside. “Hello? I came as soon as I heard.”

“What about the others? Do they know?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “Applejack said she was too busy to come. I couldn’t even find Rainbow Dash. I looked everywhere! Her home, the racetrack... well, just her home and the racetrack, I guess.”

They flinched as the door to the storeroom opened. Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie watched Rarity stumble out of the storeroom.

Pinkie Pie looked at her, hopefully. “Is she...?”

Rarity shook her head. “The reprogramming is going poorly. I’ve tried to teach her techniques for being suave and sophisticated, but it all just slides off her.”

“But Twilight’s an amazing learner!” Fluttershy said. “Remember when she learned three new languages in a single week?”

“This is different!” Rarity said. “Nerds don’t realize they’re nerds. They honestly don’t know how uncool they are. How can we help her if she refuses to acknowledge the problem?”

Pinkie Pie hopped out of her beanbag. “It happened before, didn’t it? You said there were nerds who transformed themselves into geeks. How did they do it?”

“There are all kinds of stories,” said Rarity. “Decades of martial-arts discipline, potent magic elixirs, exposure to cosmic rays... but nopony knows for sure. There are no records about it. It was a very dark time of Equestria’s past... a time best forgotten.”

“There must be a way!” Fluttershy said. “Somepony must know what to do!”

“What about the Princess?” Pinkie Pie said. “I bet she’d know.”

Rarity shook her head. “Spike is too exhausted to send a letter. I’d rather not wake him right now... but I suppose we might not have a choice.”

The front door gently opened and all three of them turned to see Rainbow Dash walk in, drenched with rain water.

“I know what to do.”

Several minutes later, Rainbow Dash stared at the storeroom door. “I’m going into that room alone. You’re going to lock the door behind me. And no matter what happens—no matter what you hear—do not open that door.”

Fluttershy peered at the door. “How will we know when you’ve succeeded?”

“You won’t,” said Dash. “I’m not coming out until I get the old Twilight back. She’s in there, somewhere... I know it. And once she’s back, she can open the door from the inside.”

“But what if she doesn’t come back?”

Rainbow Dash glared at her, furious. She opened the door and stepped inside. The door swung shut behind her, and the heavy deadbolt clamped in place.

The room was bare. The shelves and desks had been moved out. All that remained was a single chair. Dash stared at Twilight Sparkle, wrapped in heavy chains. There was a heavy clamp on the end of her horn, inscribed with softly glowing runes.

“Hiya! Wanna see my stamp collection? It’s—”

“No.” Dash stepped forward “This is gonna hurt me more than it’ll hurt you.”

Twilight smiled, unperturbed. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you know what you are?” said Dash. “You’re a nerd.”

“Really? What’s that?”

“You don’t even know, do you?” Dash shook her head, and slowly walked around her chair. “It means you’re not cool. At all.”

“What? But my mom thinks I’m—”

“No, she doesn’t. You aren’t cool, Twilight. You think you are... but everything you know is wrong. You’re living a lie.”

“Wh-what are you talking about? I’m popular! I have friends!”

Dash began walking around her chair, watching her quietly. Twilight twisted her neck around trying to keep track of her.

“You know all about history, right? All the old legends and stories from way back?”

“Yeah! It’s—”

“We had a good thing going,” Dash said, “for the longest time everything was just great. We were heros...we were famous, rich, popular, the whole shebang. We were on top.”

Twilight’s broad grin faltered slightly. “What do you mean? Who was on top?”

Dash continued to talk to herself as she circled the chair. “We thought things would never change. We couldn’t imagine a world that was any different than our own. That’s not what we were good at: we didn’t think or imagine or wonder. Thinking was a liability to us. We were ponies of action.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you know what I am?” Dash leaned over her. “I’m a jock... and you’re a nerd. Do you know what that means?”

Twilight stared up at her, no longer smiling.

“My tribe was the center of attention for a thousand years. We were professional athletes... celebrities. We were the coolest ponies in all of Equestria, but at what cost? For some pony to become cooler, somepony else has to become uncool. And that was you. The Nerds... the freaks, geeks, and weirdos. You were all brains and no brawn, and it was just way too easy to push you down... to intimidate you. We did it over and over, again and again, grinding your tribe into the dirt and shoving you into lockers. And it worked. We were cool... and you were lame. And that was the way of things.”

Twilight swallowed a lump in her throat. “You’re not gonna... wedgie me, are you ? You wouldn’t do that, right?”

Rainbow Dash stepped back. “But it couldn’t last forever. We’d forgotten how fragile and ephemeral coolness really is. There was change in the air... a revolution. The whole world was about to turn upside-down: academics and philosophy and science were about to change how things worked. All of a sudden, reading—and thinking—became vital skills... way more important that kicking a stupid ball around a field. And then, just like that, us jocks were obsolete. Instead of being tough and cool, we were big and dumb. We became laughingstocks.”

Twilight shut her eyes tight and tried to turn away. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please don’t noogie me!”

“Noogie you? I should thank you. After all, you were the ones who saw it coming. You knew that nerds would soon be productive and important for the first time in recorded history, but you also knew that wouldn’t be enough... you also needed to be cool. So you did the unthinkable... the unimaginable. The impossible.”

Twilight stared at her in horrified understanding. “No... no! You can’t mean—”

“We joined forces, Twilight Sparkle. We set aside thousands of years of tyranny and oppression and forged an unholy alliance between jocks and nerds.”

“Never! It’s not true! It can’t be! We’d never sink so low!”

Rainbow Dash scoffed at her. “Low? We were the desperate ones! The jocks were about to die out and we knew there was nothing we could do about it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and so we agreed. It was secret at first: you began inviting us to after-school study circles, and even allowed us to join your book clubs and model train conventions. You taught us practical, academic skills. Skills we could use in the real world. Because of you we kept our grades high enough to qualify for athletic scholarships.

“In exchange, we gave you the only thing we had left... we shared with you the secret of coolness. The bullying and mockery stopped overnight. We began inviting you to parties, teaching you how to dance with boys and tell jokes that were actually funny. It worked better than either of us could have ever dreamed, and we each owe our survival to the other. The jocks became athletes... the nerds became geeks. And nopony even remembers a time when somepony had to become cooler by making somepony else uncool. They’ve forgotten the dark age of bullying and pranking. And perhaps that’s how it should be... we’ve put it behind us forever.”

Dash stopped walking around the chair and stood in front of her.

“And now, Twilight Sparkle, I’m going to share that secret with you. The secret of coolness.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Really?” She sounded frightened... but also intrigued.

“I just hope you’re strong enough to hear it.” Dash drew close. “The secret of being cool, Twilight Sparkle... is not to care about being cool.”

Twilight’s left ear flipped up. “What? That’s it?”

“It’s not so easy,” Dash said. “You have to stop caring about what people think of you. You have to stop being afraid. The more you want to be cool, and the harder you try, the less cool you become. And that’s your problem... you’re too worried about what everypony thinks of you. You need to let go. Only then do you have any chance of achieving inner coolness.”

“And then... I’ll be cool? Promise?”

“That’s the hardest part of all. Even if you give it all up and be yourself, it doesn’t automatically make you cool. You might find out that, deep down, you’re just lame and there’s nothing you can do about it. When dealing with coolness, there are no guarantees... but it’s your only chance.”

“But... but I...!”

“No!” Dash shouted. “No buts! If you want to be cool, you have to accept the chance that you might not be cool, ever! You have to take that risk! You have to make that sacrifice!”

“There must be another way!” Twilight’s eyes darted back and forth and sweat dripped from her brow. “Maybe... maybe there’s a way to make ponies think I’m cool, without actually being cool. Maybe then—”

“No!!” Rainbow Dash slapped her cheek, hard. “Don’t you dare walk that path, Twilight Sparkle! That’s the dark side of coolness: when you trick others into thinking you're cool you’ll turn your whole life into a lie! You turn yourself into what other ponies want instead of what you want! You’ll start insulting other ponies and pushing them around, convincing others that they’re uncool just to make yourself cooler... and then you will become what you hate the most!

“But I want to be popular! I want ponies to like me!”

“Real coolness isn’t what other people think of you: it comes from within! That’s the secret, Twilight: Coolness is not popularity or fame or respect! These things are all just hollow, empty side-effects! They don’t matter!” Rainbow Dash grabbed her chair and leaned her back. “I want to hear you say you don’t care what anypony thinks of you! Say it out loud!”

Twilight scrunched her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face. “No! just leave me alone! Why can’t you just leave me alone!?”

“The harder you hang on, the faster it slips away from you! You’ve got to let go!”

“Nooo! Stop it! Stop pushing me around!” The rune-inscribed shackle around Twilight’s horn began to rattle. She opened her eyes and sheaves of purple light cascaded out. Her voice rose to a terrible pitch, filled with fury. “Stop telling me what to do! It’s my life! I can live it however I want!”

The magical manacle snapped apart and each half ricocheted back and forth against the walls and floor. Twilight’s chair shattered into splinters, and she hovered into the air in a hurricane of magical energies. “Leave me alone! I don’t care what you think of me!”

Rainbow Dash took a step back as she stared into the terrible light shining from her eyes.

Oh, pluck me...!

Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy gasped in shock as a blast of purple-and-pink energy blasted the reinforced door off its hinges and punched a hole in the opposite wall. After a moment of silence, Twilight Sparkle staggered out of the storeroom. She was gasping for breath, and her face was twisted in rage. The chains were gone.

Pinkie Pie walked over to her and looked into her eyes. She turned and looked at the shattered door frame, then at the hole in the wall.

“What happened in there? What she do to you?”

Twilight’s rage simmered away, leaving only confusion. She stumbled across the room and walked out the hole in the wall. Pinkie Pie followed: She was standing at the end of a long furrow in the dirt, where Dash’s unconscious body lay.

Twilight swallowed a lump in her throat. “We... gotta help her. She’s hurt.”

“Yeah. It looks pretty bad.”

“Who did this to her?”

“You did,” Pinkie Pie said. “I think it was you.”

“Oh.” Twilight wiped her nose.

Her horn glowed, and Rainbow Dash floated back into the Library.

Rarity set down a sheaf of old, yellowed documents. “It’s a recessive genetic trait.”

Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle all leaned closer, awestruck.

Rarity continued. “Her great grandfather was a professional football player, and her grandmother was a professional soccer player. Her grandmother on her father’s side was a professional volleyball player. Any of these alone aren’t too serious. But combined...” Rarity shook her head.

Dash slumped in her seat, utterly dejected. “I thought I could handle it. I thought I could l keep it under control. And I did... for a while.”

“Until now?” Fluttershy said.

“Yeah. I didn’t want any pony to know. I thought it would never come up.” Dash leaned on the table and buried her face in her arms. “I’m one quarter jock.”

Rarity closed her eyes. “And Twilight is becoming more and more of a nerd with every passing minute.”

Dash sniffled. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry. I understand if we can’t be friends anymore.”

Twilight set a hoof on her shoulder. “Most people who were bullies in their youth feel a sense of deep regret when they grow up.”

“That’s no excuse!” Dash said. “I’m a monster!”

“You may be a jock. And you may be a tiny bit of a jerk, on rare occasions.” Twilight held her face and stared into her eyes. “But you’re not a bully. You’ve never been one.”

Dash sniffled. “Can we still be friends? Are we... are we still... cool?”

Twilight stared at her, blandly. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“But our ancestors were at war for millennia! My people were bullying yours for generations! How can you just ignore all that?”

“Like this,” Twilight said. She leaned back in her chair, shrugging slightly. “Meh.”

Dash stared at her in awe. “So cool,” she whispered to herself.

Fluttershy watched them for a moment. “Does this mean the old Twilight is back?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight said. “I feel fine now... but I also felt perfectly fine before. It’s like I can’t know for sure what’s real and what’s not.”

“There must be some way to know!” Pinkie Pie said. “There has to be some kind of test!”

Everypony sat down again and stared at the center of the table, where Twilight’s heavy, horn-rimmed glasses sat.

Twilight looked up. “I’m... hungry.”

Pinkie Pie shot up. “Whatcha want? Cake? Pie? Lemon meringue? Fruit punch?”

“Sandwich.” Twilight’s eyes drifted in and out of focus. “Whole grain bread. Low-fat peanut butter. Blueberry jam.”

“You betcha! One P.B.J. coming right up!”

“I’ll make it myself. Just bring me the ingredients.”

“Oh... kay.” Pinkie Pie walked around the table and went into the kitchen. She came back with a tray loaded with a loaf of bread, two jars, and some cutlery. She set everything on the table.

They watched as Twilight Sparkle set two slices of bread on a plate. She opened the jar of peanut butter, dabbed the knife in, and spread it over one slice of bread. She stared at the knife intently, but didn’t seem to have any difficulty with it.

She opened the jar of jam and stopped as she looked inside.

Rarity leaned forward. “Twilight?”

They watched as Twilight Sparkle took a pair of sleek, stylish reading glasses out of the jam jar, covered in sticky blue goo. She lifted them up and stared at the hole in the wall: The clouds along the horizon were aglow with the fire and warmth of impending dawn.

“It’s only a temporary fix,” said Twilight. “If we’re going to neutralize this spell, we’ll need to find applejack.”

Pinkie pie bounced in her chair. “How long do you think it’ll last?”

“How long?” Twilight put her glasses on, dripping jam all over her face. “Long enough.”

“YEAAAAAHHH!!!”

Everyone stared up at Pinkie Pie: she was standing upright in her chair and reaching towards the ceiling. She was set against a backdrop of the morning sun rising over Ponyville’s modest cityline, visible through the hole in the wall.

She peered down at them for a moment before climbing down. “I mean... yay.”

Twilight stood up. “Come on, girls. We need to pay Sweet Apple Acres a visit. But first...” Twilight took off her jam-covered glasses. “...I need to wash my glasses.”

Pinkie Pie jumped up on her chair and reared up again. She waited for a moment, then looked down at Twilight. Her eyes glistened, and her lower lip trembled.

“Oh, fine.” Twilight put her glasses back on. “But first... I need to wash my glasses.”

“YEAAAAAHHH!!!”

%i%: FIGHT THE FUTURE

10: FIGHT THE FUTURE

“Simplicity of character is no hinderance to subtlety of intellect.”

John, Viscount Morley of Blackburn

Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres™®©!

Sweet Apple Acres™®© (hereby referred to as “S.A.A.”) is a privately owned subsidiary of Sweet Apple Acres Equestria™®© (hereby referred to as “S.A.A.E.”), in accordance with section 34 article 26.8 of the Royal Commerce Securities Act, section 12 article 74.3 of the Agricultural and Environmental Protection Act, and section 12 subsection 46 of the Canterlot Fair Trade Statute.

Heavy Equipment Warning: Construction on premises. S.A.A. cannot be held responsible for any property damage or personal injury to non-employees. Hard hats, steel boots and hearing protection are mandatory for all visitors at all times. Do not leave the clearly marked visitor’s area without official escort.

Restricted Property Warning: No solicitors, sales representatives or unauthorized ponies are allowed on the premises. Trespassers face a maximum fine of one thousand bits and a maximum jail term of six months. S.A.A. employees and shareholders cannot be held responsible for any personal injury caused by unlawful entry.

Allergen and Contamination Warning: S.A.A. products may contain apples, and may have come into contact with apples, apple pollen, environmentally friendly organic fertilizer, or environmentally friendly organic pesticide. Water used for irrigation and product rinsing has been chlorinated and fluoridated for your health and safety.

Biohazard Warning: Apple seeds (and the pits of cherries, peaches and apricots) contain amygdalin: a cyanide and sugar compound that degrades into hydrogen cyanide when metabolized. Various S.A.A. brand products, including (but not limited to) “Sweet Apples,™” “Sweet Apple Snack Slices,™” “Sweet Apple Flavoured Cinnamon Cider Fruit Beverage,™” “Sweet Apple Flavoured Fruit Spread Preservatives,™” and “Sweet Apple Applesauce Flavoured Processed Simulated Food Product™” are not appropriate for foals less than six months of age or for pregnant or nursing mares. Sweet Apple Acres brand “Red Delicious™” products may contain cochineal (E20) red coloured “food” dye to enhance peel color, which studies have linked to high rates of heterotropia and heterochromia. “Sweet Apple Zap Apple™” apple food products may contain electrochemical residue: excessive or long-term consumption may cause swelling, itching, rashes, sneezing, high cholesterol, depression, hallucination, low cholesterol, irreversible nerve and kidney damage, halitosis, and death. Please consult your doctor before deciding if Sweet Apple Acres™®© brand “Sweet Apples”™ apples are right for you.

Please enjoy your visit to Sweet Apple Acres™®© and remember that your thoughts and opinions are important to us. Leave comments or complaints at the front desk. Visitors may be eligible for a free sample of apple products, or for various coupons and special discounts.

Twilight and her friends stared up at the new sign that had been fixed to the archway over the road to Sweet Apple Acres. The old sign had been been there for as long as any of them could remember: it had been carved by hoof and painted with green and red apples. This new sign was made of sheet metal and was embossed with a sleek, trendy, professionally designed logo that looked almost, but not quite, entirely unlike a pair of apples.

After several minutes of quiet reading, Pinkie Pie broke the silence. “They still grow apples here, right?”

Twilight tilted her head and adjusted her stylish—and sparkly clean—eyeglasses. “I used to know what those words meant.”

“I know what they mean,” Rainbow Dash said, “but when you put them all together like that it just turns into gobbledygook.”

Rarity looked further down the road at the lush green orchards and rustic wooden farmhouses in the distance. “It doesn’t seem particularly different.”

“Maybe it’s just a new sign?” Pinkie Pie said. “Maybe, on the inside, it’s still the same ol’ Sweet Apple Acres Trademark Registered Copyright we all know and love?”

Twilight clenched her jaw. “There’s only one way to find out.”

She marched through the archway and down the dirt road. Her friends followed after her, gazing apprehensively at their surroundings. The same old trees and parks. The same old dirt roads and wooden signposts. The same chirping birds and scampering squirrels. The journey to the farmhouse was completely uneventful.

Twilight went to the front door and rang the bell: an actual metal bell with a braided cord hanging from the clapper. “Hello? Anypony home?”

After a moment, Big Macintosh opened the door. “Eyup?”

“Good morning. Do you know where we can find Applejack?”

He pointed across the clearing. “Mah little sister’s in the north field. Says she’s got some kind of special project in th’ works.”

“A project?” Twilight said. “Do you know what she’s doing?”

“Nope.”

“Why didn’t she tell you about it?”

Big Mac shrugged. “Didn’t ask. She always takes care of the plan-makin’ anyhow. I just do the heavy lifting.”

Rarity stepped forward. “How has she been acting lately? Any odd behavior?”

He paused to think. “Well, there was the west field. She had me plough the whole thing even though it’s been fallow for years.”

“Fallow?” Rarity said, “What does that mean?”

“It’s when a field just ain’t no good for growin’ no more. We use the same fields every year, and after awhile they just give up the ghost. Nopony knows why. They get better, sometimes, after five or ten years.” He pointed west. “I tried to tell her ain’t nothin’ gonna grow there, but she told me to plough ’em anyways.”

“Doesn’t that seem suspicious?” said Twilight.

Big Macintosh shrugged again. “What’s the worst she could do? Make ’em even more fallow?”

“I guess not,” Twilight said. “We really need to talk to her, though. It’s important.”

“She said she was too busy for ‘solicitors’—whatever those are—but I’m sure she’ll be happy to see her friends. Take the north road and go all the way to the end. You’ll find her eventually.”

“Thanks.”

They turned to go, but Dash paused to look back.

“Hey, Big Mac?”

“Eyup?”

“What’s with that freaky new sign out front?”

“What sign?”

“The metal one, with all the funny writing. Didn’t you put that up?”

Big Macintosh shook his head. “News to me.”

They rushed along the north path and reached the fallow fields. Sweet Apple Acres had been operating for generations, and almost a third of its lands were empty and barren. Most of the unusable areas had been converted into sporting fields or campgrounds. Others were being reclaimed by the wilderness around them.

Rainbow Dash did a quick sweep of the area, then led the others to a particular field. Applejack was dressed in her usual work duds and was busy digging at the ground with a spade.

Twilight approached her, warily. “Good morning, Applejack.”

“Hm?” She looked up and her face brightened. “Mornin’ y’all! My, but you’re up awful early. Somethin’ I can do for you?”

Rarity squinted at her. “How’s the suit? I see you’re not wearing it.”

“The suit is just dandy, Rarity. It just seemed a mite silly to wear it for field work. Dry clean only, you know.”

“Of course.”

Dash hovered nearby. “What’s with the new sign?”

Applejack winced. “Yeah... it’s a real eyesore, ain’t it? I think it’s ugly as a pig in mud, but the lawyers insisted.”

“The lawyers?” Dash said. “You have lawyers?”

“Sure do. As of yesterday, Sweet Apple Acres is a global business. We needed a few extra precautions.” Applejack dug a small hole next to a boulder, planted a small round stone, and buried it. “It’s jes the standard boilerplate to keep all them highfalutin’ city lawyers from suing us for no good reason.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit much?” Dash said. “That sign reads like a nightmare! Trespassers will be prosecuted? Personal Injury!?”

“Dash. You ever been to the weather factory in Cloudesdale?”

“Well, duh. We all visited it together.”

“What do you think would happen if we snuck in without permission? If we didn’t have a professional weather-pony to guide us and we weren’t wearing any safety gear?”

“Now that’s just asking for trouble. There could be all kinds of... oh. Right.”

“What about the fields?” Fluttershy said. “Big Mac mentioned—”

“Don’t call him that!” Applejack barked.

Fluttershy recoiled. “Wh-what?”

“Sorry to snap at you, Flutter. That was uncalled for.” Applejack took a deep breath. “I don’t want anypony referring to my brother as ‘Big Mac’ anymore. We’re tryin’ to avoid lawsuits from more established franchises, so from now on he’s Big Macintosh, Macintosh, or jes plain ol’ Mac.”

“Um... sorry,” Fluttershy said. “But he said you’ve decided to use some of your old fields again.”

“Eyup. I’ve got a few bright ideas, and not much time to get ’em done. Gotta be quick as a whip!”

“But there’s so many animals who live there. If you decide to use those fields again, they’ll have to move somewhere else!”

Applejack sighed. “That’s unfortunate, I know, but it was a voluntary act of charity. It’s still my property, and I’m perfectly within my rights to evict them.”

Fluttersh’s eyes widened. “Evict?”

“Don’t fear, now. I won’t leave your little friends out in the rain. I’m relocating all resident wildlife to an internment camp in the west field. They can stay there until they find new homes of their own.”

“Internment Camp!?”

“They’ll be perfectly comfortable, I assure you.”

“But what happens when you need that field too? Where will they go?”

“That’s their problem.” Applejack dug a hole between the roots of an old tree stump and buried another small stone. “I gave them two months to find new homes. That’s more than generous.”

Fluttershy stared at her, aghast.

Twilight Sparkle stepped forward. “I want answers! Big Mac said you—”

“Macintosh.” Applejack stamped a hoof. “It’s Big Macintosh.”

“Fine. Big Macintosh said he ploughed a whole field even though it wasn’t good for growing. I want to know what you’re planting there.”

“It’s harmless. And I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“If it’s harmless, then surely you’ve got nothing to hide.”

Applejack clenched her jaw. “Clover. Ya happy? I planted fifteen acres of clover seed.”

“Clover?” Pinkie Pie said. “That’s not a crop. It’s a garnish. They grow it in greenhouses.”

“That’s for special breeds of gourmet clover. This is just plain old wild clover. And it’s not for sale.”

“Then why are you growing it?” Pinkie Pie said. “Are you going to use it for something? Are you gonna make some new kind of clover snack? Can you make stuff out of it, like arts and crafts? Does it look good in flower arrangements? Clover smells really sweet, doesn't it? Are you going to make perfume, or scented shampoo, or air fresheners or something? What about—”

“Nothing, all right!?” Applejack stabbed her spade into the dirt. “Ah’m gonna let it grow for a month, then I’m gonna plough it all up, and then I’m gonna let it rot! There! Now ya know my dastardly plan. Are ya happy?”

Everypony stared at her in shock.

Twilight pointed a hoof in her face. “You’re not going to harvest it at all? That’s the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever—”

“It’s my land!” Applejack said and shoved Twilight back. “I can do whatever I please with it, so butt out!”

Rarity ran between them and held them apart. “Applejack, see reason! Sweet Apple Acres is your home and birthright! Haven’t you thought about what these plans of yours will lead to? Haven't you thought about the future?”

Applejack glared at her. “I am thinking about the future. Right now, it’s all I can think about. And that’s surely more than she can say for herself!” She pointed at Twilight.

Dash shoved her face up against Applejack’s. “Hey, don’t pick on her!”

“I’m not pickin’ on anypony. I just calls it like ah sees it.” Applejack took up her spade and walked towards a nearby shed.

Twilight chased after her. “We need to go back to the library. All of us.”

Applejack continued her hole-digging. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Something’s happened to us. Both of us. I don’t understand exactly what, but we need to reverse it.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “And how do you expect to fix somethin’ you know nothin’ about? You need to see the problem before you can find the solution.”

“We have to try! And you need to put a stop to this!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Nothing I’m doing is illegal. Not one thing!”

“Do you have any idea how serious this is?”

Applejack locked eyes with her and spoke very calmly. “Did you know you can make saltpeter using only straw, wood-ash and urine?”

“Huh?”

“And if you heat up animal manure whilst keeping the oxygen levels down, you get charcoal.” Applejack took out a strange red box with a metal T-handle plunger on top. “After that, all ya need is sulfur. Easy enough to purchase on the open market.”

Dash tilted her head. “Sulfur? What does that have to do with—”

“Wait-wait-wait,” Twilight said. “Saltpeter. That’s... potassium nitrate, isn’t it? Where have I heard of that before? It does something, I’m sure of it.”

Applejack pushed the plunger down, and the field erupted in cataclysm of sound and soil. The cluster of explosions deafened them and knocked them to the ground. When they looked up, over a hundred plumes of thick dust hung in the air over the field. Every single boulder and tree stump had been shattered.

Rainbow Dash shot to her feet and flew to each of her friends in turn. They were dazed and covered in dirt, but unharmed. She saw Applejack walking away: the only one who hadn’t been knocked flat.

“Woulda taken us two months to clear that field the usual way. Not bad for an hour’s work.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Dash zoomed over and grabbed her shoulder. “Are you crazy? You could’ve hurt somepony!”

Applejack glared back. Her eyes were cold and hard as iron.

“Ah gave ya fair warnin’, girl. Or can’t ya read?”

Dash watched as she jogged down the road.

The five of them walked back to the archway over the road and it’s large metal sign. Everypony watched Twilight as she stumbled to a halt. She closed her eyes and tapped the side of her head.

“Are you all right?” Fluttershy said.

“Sulfur... charcoal... and saltpeter. I’ve heard of that before. I know it.”

“Are they special ingredients for magic spells?” Pinkie Pie said.

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Alchemy, perhaps?” Said Rarity.

“It’s not alchemy. It’s just regular chemistry. I think.”

“What kind of chemistry?” Said Dash. “Did it have something to do with that huge explosion back there?”

“Everypony quiet!” Twilight shouted and scrunched her eyes tighter. “Please, just... don’t everypony talk to me at once.”

“Let’s get you back to the library,” Rarity said. “You can do your thinking there.”

“What about the rest of us?” said Rainbow Dash. “We gotta do something!”

Everypony looked at Twilight.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do.”

Rarity cleared her throat. “We need information. Everypony split up and ask around town. Find out what Applejack has been doing, who she’s been talking to—”

“Her letters!” said Rainbow Dash. “She’s been writing lots of letters. I can visit the post office and find out where they’re going.”

“Good,” Rarity said. “Get on that. What about the train? She bought an entire freight train on a whim. Somepony find out why.”

Pinkie Pie hopped in place. “Ooh! Ooh! I’ll check it out! I’m pretty good with crazy contraptions. Even if a train isn’t really that crazy, it’s still a contraption.”

“Perfect,” Rarity said. “Fluttershy. You interview the animals that were forced off of Applejack’s lands. Maybe they can tell us what’s going on there.”

“Sulfur,” Twilight whispered. “Sulfur, saltpeter, and charcoal. Where have I heard of those before?”

Rarity nodded to the others. “Everypony meet back at the library in one hour. We’ll share our results there.”

The others scattered off.

“Don’t stress yourself,” Rarity said. “It’ll come to you. Just give it time.”

“Time,” Twilight said. “She said something about the future... about not having much time left. She must be getting desperate.”

Rarity went to Twilight’s side and gave her a gentle hug.

Rainbow Dash burst into the post office and rushed to the front desk. She rang the service bell as rapidly as she could.

“All right already!” Ditzy Doo said as she came out of the back room. “Rainbow Dash? What can I do for you?”

“It’s Applejack!” Rainbow Dash said. “She’s up to something, and you’re gonna tell me what! I need to know how many letters she’s written, and who she’s sent them to.”

“I can’t do that. It’s against the law to divulge private information. I’d lose my job and face serious criminal charges.”

Dash rummaged in her saddlebag and held up a shiny silver badge. “I am Ponyville’s chief weatherpony, and an officer of the law! I am ordering you to co-operate with this totally not-made-up investigation!”

Ditzy stared at the silver badge. “But you’re a weather pony! Can you even do that?”

“I have full authority over this city’s airspace. If I say it isn’t safe to fly, then every single set of wings within a hundred miles is grounded. And they’ll stay grounded until I decide the danger is over. I can bring this postal service to a screeching halt if I have to!”

Ditzy Doo’s uneven eyes flicked between Dash’s face and the silver badge.

Dash leaned over the counter and lowered her voice. “Listen... Applejack really is up to something. Something big. Let me look through the records. I won’t open any letters or packages or anything, I swear. Whatever happens, I’ll take the heat for it. I promise you won’t lose your job.”

“It’s not that it’s illegal,” Ditzy Doo said, “it’s just wrong.”

Rainbow Dash stared at her googly eyes for a moment.

“You’re right... it is. But just a minute ago, I saw Applejack blow up an entire field. Kaboom. Nothing left but dirt. We don’t have a clue what she’s doing, but she told us it wasn’t illegal.” Dash leaned closer. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t wrong.”

Ditzy Doo swallowed and nodded to the back. “I’ll have to make a note of this in the records. Just so there's no confusion about accountability.”

“You do that,” Dash said. “I’d expect nothing less of Equestria’s finest.”

Pinkie Pie hopped along the train station’s loading platform. The giant steam engine was sitting idle, and workers were climbing all over it. There were open panels everywhere, and machinery was being removed and arranged in an orderly fashion.

This doesn’t look like routine maintenance. Not at all.

She brightened up as she caught sight of a light-grey stallion poring over a large scroll.

“Hey, Gear Box!” She said and rushed over. “I didn’t know you were working here!”

Her looked up and smiled at her. “Pinkie Pie! It has been awhile, hasn’t it? You want a quick tour?”

“That would be so cool!” She looked back at the steam engine. “What are ya doing, anyways? Is it broken or something?”

“Nope. The old girl works just fine. The owner just wanted us to do some modifications. No idea where she got them, but they’re very exciting.”

“Exciting?” Pinkie Pie said. “How exciting?”

“Extremely. It could change the whole future of locomotive engineering.” He led her to the engine and pointed at the cabin. “You know how a steam engine works, don’t you?”

“Well, duh!” Pinkie Pie said. “I lived in one for a year before I came to Ponyville. I could fix one up blindfolded!”

“Well what do you make of those pipes there?”

Pinkie Pie peered into the cab of the steam engine. The opening of the coal furnace had been bolted shut, and a series of pipes fed into it.

“Why’d you cover up the furnace? How are you supposed to shovel coal into it?”

Gearbox grinned at her. “You don’t. It’s all automatic. The pipes move fuel from the coal cab directly into the furnace. All the stoker has to do is move the throttle and keep an eye on the gages.”

Pinkie Pie frowned at him. “But that’s not going to work at all. Coal doesn’t flow. It’ll get all clogged up.”

“Yeah, I know... ponies have been trying to invent an automatic system for years. They always turn out to be less reliable, less efficient, or more expensive than a stallion with a plain ol’ shovel.” He tapped the pipe. “But this isn’t the important part... the owner’s got something else up her sleeves.”

“Really? What is it, then? What, huh?”

“Easy there, filly. Can’t talk about it. The owner wants to keep things hush-hush.”

Pinkie Pie’s lower lip trembled. Her eyes glistened.

“The modifications will be done in a few days, you know. You’ll hear all about it soon enough. You can wait just a little while, can’t you?”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes widened further. Tears bulged along her lower eyelids, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“Oh, fine then!” Gearbox grinned at her. “I’ll give you a quick peek at the refineries... but don’t breathe a word of it to anypony. Pinkie promise?”

“You got it!” she said. “I hereby plinkie promise not to breathe a word of it to anypony!”

“That’s all I need to hear! It’s over here in the machine shop. And don’t touch anything... some of this stuff is dangerous.”

“I’m so glad you could see me on such short notice, Mister Moneybags.”

“I assure you, Miss Rarity, it’s our pleasure.” The distinguished, elderly stallion opened the door to his luxuriously furnished office. “Your Carousel Boutique has always been one of our bank’s most reliable investments.”

Rarity stepped inside and tossed her fuzzy scarf around her neck. She went to the large oak desk, waited as Mr. Moneybags pulled a chair back for her, and sat down with a smile.

“Now then,” Mr. Moneybags said as he sat behind his desk. “How can we be of assistance?”

“Actually, I’m here to discuss a fellow business-pony. A friend of mine.”

“This is about Applejack, isn’t it?” Moneybags rolled his eyes and leaned back in his executive chair. “We’ve been receiving complaints about her since yesterday. I suppose it was only a matter of time until she locked horns with you. Er... so to speak.”

“I hadn’t heard,” Rarity said. “What manner of complaints? And from who?”

“It would be quicker to list the ponies who aren’t complaining. She’s throwing around a great deal of financial influence and taking a lot of liberties with her property. She purchased an entire steam train. It’s just sitting in the station. She refuses to run cargo shipments and the price of bulk export has doubled. She’s also closed down several plots of land that her family traditionally lends to the city for recreational purposes: a campground, two sporting fields, and a county fairground. And just today, the river that runs through Ponyville’s residential district has run completely dry. That river comes out of Sweet Apple Acres property and she claims to be using the water for irrigation. All of it.”

Rarity stared at the banker for a moment. “That’s rather a shock. Why didn’t anypony say anything?”

“It’s only been a day and a half! We didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late.”

“But none of this makes any sense! Why would she purchase a freight train and not run freight? She could be shipping apples all the way to Canterlot to sell them at a premium. And those recreational fields have no financial value at all: they can’t be used to grow staple crops, and it costs her nothing to donate them to the city. And she’s always relied upon rain for hydration!”

“She’s flat out told the pegasus weather patrol that ‘their services are no longer required.’ In fact, she’s put up signs forbidding all unauthorized airspace traffic. Nopony is allowed into Sweet Apple Acres without written invitation!” Mr. Moneybags threw up his hooves. “I didn’t say it made sense. Sweet Apple Acres is spending money at an unsustainable rate!”

“Unsustainable? It can’t be!” Rarity said. “How many years until they face bankruptcy?”

“Years?” He uttered a short, anxious laugh. “Weeks.”

Rarity sat in silence, eyes twitching with rapid thought.

“Impossible,” said Rarity. “Applejack is too sensible to do such a thing without some kind of backup plan. She must have a new source of income planned for the future.”

“If she does, she hasn’t shared it with us. And for her sake, it had better be a very high-return investment. The only thing I can think of is that clover field of hers.”

Rarity looked up. “You know about that?”

“All of Canterlot knows about it. She sent an agricultural report to the Canterlot commodities market—in the middle of the year, no less—and briefly mentioned she’d planted a truly enormous amount of clover. It took the market completely by surprise.”

“She advertised it? But that will only drive prices down! Why would she—”

Rarity’s throat locked up.

Mr. Moneybags adjusted his spectacles. “Miss Rarity?”

She isn’t going to sell it. She’s going to buy it.

Fluttershy drifted over Sweet Apple Acres’ northern fields, careful to stay low and out of sight. The fields weren’t squares anymore: the fences divided the freshly tilled soil into hexagons. In the center of each, there were huge spinning faucets that sprayed water all around. Each device was connected to a long, flexible hose that led to a nearby river.

Where are all the animals? They can’t all be gone! She wheeled around and went towards Ponyville. She mentioned moving them all to some sort of camp. Maybe I can find out where it is.

She heard a faint sound as she approached the outskirts. Off in the distance, she saw a crowd of ponies walking along the main road. She drew closer and heard angry shouting. Most of the ponies were carrying signs and placards. A few pegasi were holding banners aloft.

Fluttershy ducked down into the tree cover and continued on foot. She bolted out of the forest’s edge and joined the crowd. Everyone was angry and upset... her stomach felt queasy just listening to it.

She turned to the pony next to her. “Um... excuse me? What’s going on?”

Her voice was drowned out by the roar of the crowd. All right... not much use in talking.

She looked at the signs and banners instead: We don’t want your money. Make Apple Acres sweet again. You don’t own us. The most important ingredients are love and care. Tax breaks and loopholes aren’t Illegal: they’re just wrong. Ponyville Steam engine workers, unite. Applejack needs the power of love: not love of power.

Fluttershy slowed to a halt and let the crowd flow around her.

Applejack did this? She made all these ponies angry in just one day?

She hovered over the crowd and flew to the front. “Please everypony, just stay calm! Whatever Applejack did, I’m sure we can talk it over!” The crowd didn’t even notice her. She took a deep breath and shouted and loud as she could. Still, the mob marched on.

“Now what’s this all about?”

Fluttershy turned and saw Applejack by the front gate, dressed in her black suit and speaking through a conical loudspeaker. There were a pair of formally dressed stallions next to her, patiently holding clipboards. The crowd began yelling at her, inaudible.

“Now just calm down a minute there.” Applejack stepped forward, voice booming over the crowd. “If this is about the river, There’s a perfectly good explanation for it.”

Fluttershy heard a few voices cry out: something about a drought.

“Now, y’all keep in mind that that river originates on Sweet Apple acres property and—quite frankly—you don’t have any legal claim to it. We need that water for irrigation more than you need it for luxury boatin’ and beach parties. I’m gonna have to ask y’all to disperse in a prompt and orderly fashion.”

Fluttershy felt a tremble in her bones as the crowd lurched forward.

Please, no! Don’t get angry! Anger won’t help at all!

“Well that tears it, then. Sorry folks, but you don’t leave us much choice.”

Fluttershy watched as a pair of large sprinkler devices sprang to life. They were just like the ones she’d seen in the field... but they hadn’t looked so large from above. Two powerful jets of water sprayed the crowd from cross directions, and the angry shouting turned into panicked yelling. Fluttershy flew higher, avoiding the spray. The crowd below was swept away in the deluge, slipping and sliding down the muddy road. There were soapy suds everywhere and the protesters were unable to stay upright for more than a few seconds: those who did were quick to flee.

She can’t do this... she just can’t! I’ve got to stop her!

Fluttershy looked back at Applejack and saw the other pegasi rushing towards her. She gasped as Applejack tilted the water sprayers up to the sky. Fluttershy ducked and dove away from the ropey columns of water. She and the others scattered in all directions, desperate to escape.

Twilight sat at one of the library’s recently repaired tables. She stared at the scroll in front of her, covered with scribbles. The writing was dense and uneven.... sloppy. Half of the text had been scratched out. She tapped her fountain pen against the paper.

Potassium Nitrate. Charcoal. Sulfur.

Twilight started a new line of text. She scribbled faster and faster, clenching her teeth. “Aaaargh!!” She scratched the quill across the entire page, covering it with jagged black zig-zags. The pen nib tore the paper apart and spilled ink over the table. She threw the fountain pen away and slammed her head against the table.

I could do this before. I know I could.

She flinched as she felt a gentle hoof on her back. She looked up and saw Rarity beside her.

“Sorry.” Twilight crumpled the ruined scroll and threw it away. “Did you learn anything?”

The door opened and Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy came in. “Bet our facts can beat your facts.”

Twilight sat up in her seat. “Let’s hear it then. We can fill Pinkie Pie in as soon as she gets here.”

Everypony sat at the table and Dash cleared her throat.

“She’s been sending hundreds of letters. She sent more in a day than Ponyville sends and receives in a month. She must be printing them out or something.” She set a hastily scrawled list on the table. “Half of them went all over Canterlot. Mostly to businesses, merchants and wealthy investors. The other half all went to a single address in Manehattan. And even weirder, she’s been getting responses from the same address. Every hour on the hour.”

“Regular correspondence?” Rarity said. “Doesn’t she have family in Manehattan?”

“The Orange family,” said Dash. “But there’s no way to be sure who’s getting them. Want me to go check it out? I can make a round trip in an hour, if I push it.”

Rarity shook her head. “We don’t have an hour. Applejack has already left us in the dust with this plan of hers.”

“Oh? How bad is it?”

“I suspect that she’s manipulating the stock market for personal gain. She sent a produce report to Canterlot six months early, and mentioned her enormous new clover fields. If she floods the market with that much product, prices will plunge to almost nothing.”

Dash’s right ear twitched up. “But she said she wasn’t even going to sell it.”

“She isn’t. But if the stock market believes she is, prices will hit rock bottom anyway. Gourmet clover farms will go bankrupt. Applejack could offer to purchase them for a pittance. Then, when it becomes clear that Applejack’s giant clover fields were nothing but rumors, prices will skyrocket. She would have a complete monopoly.”

Twilight stared at Rarity. “She’s going to destroy an entire industry... for profit?”

“She could,” Rarity said, “if she were so inclined.”

Twilight looked at Fluttershy. “I hope you’ve got some good news for us.”

“There was a riot,” Fluttershy whimpered. “A whole crowd of ponies marched over to Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack is using some kind of giant water sprayer to water her fields. I think that’s where the river went. She... she turned the sprayers on the crowd.”

There was a moment of quiet.

“Was anypony hurt?” Rarity said.

“After it was over, I spoke with as many ponies as I could. They were all fine. There weren’t even any scrapes or bruises. There was something in the water that made it too slippery to stand, and it washed everypony away... but nopony was hurt.”

Dash shot out of her seat. “How could she do such a horrible thing!?”

Rarity shook her head. “There was an angry mob on her private property. She might have been within her rights.”

“But it was scary!” Fluttershy said.

“An angry mob is scary,” Rarity said. “I’m not saying it was right, but at least nopony was injured. The real Applejack would never cause any harm.”

Everypony at the table flinched as Pinkie Pie slammed a black, metal cannister on the table.

Twilight adjusted her glasses. “What’s that?”

“Liquidized coal,” Pinkie Pie said. “Applejack is modifying her steam engine to run on this instead of regular coal.”

“Liquidized? Twilight said. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“It didn’t exist until yesterday. It’s coal, ground into such a fine powder that it behaves like a liquid. It’s three times as dense as regular coal, and it burns ten times as fast when it’s sprayed as a vapour.”

Twilight peered at the canister. “Ten times? That’s unbelievable!”

Pinkie Pie pulled up a chair and sat down. “I have no idea how she made this stuff. Nopony does. But if she can make more of it, she’ll turn the whole locomotive industry upside down overnight.”

“She’s gonna buy a lot more trains, isn’t she?”

“She doesn’t need to. She’ll give away the engine modification for free, and then sell the fuel. She can charge whatever she wants for it, too. She’s the only pony in Equestria who knows how to make it.”

Twilight looked at her. “How did you get this?”

“I know a pony who was working on Applejack’s engineering project. He only let me take a look at their machine shop because I plinkie promised not to breathe a word of it to anypony.”

“You promised? And you’re telling us?”

“Nuh-uh-uh!” Pinkie said. “I never pinkie promised. I plinkie promised. And as everypony knows, plinkie promises are notoriously unreliable.”

They stared at the canister for a minute.

“One and a half days,” Twilight said. “Applejack will have total control over two national commodities, and it only took her one and a half days to set in motion.”

“Three industries,” Rarity said. “She still sells apples, after all.”

“The future.” Twilight tapped the top of the canister. “This is about the future. She’s not doing this for the money... she can’t be. She knows something we don’t.”

Twilight shot out of her seat and ran to a nearby bookshelf, tossing encyclopedias and reference books over her shoulder as she searched. She ran back and slammed a book down on the table. “The spell I cast didn’t alter our intelligence. It altered our innate cognitive awareness! And what is Applejack’s essential quality?”

“Honesty?” Rarity said.

“Exactly. The spell amplified her ability to recognize the truth.” Twilight pointed at the book. “This can’t be the result of ordinary cognition. Applejack is experiencing precognition.”

Rainbow Dash leaned over and squinted at the passage Twilight was pointing at. “Futurists, or futurologists, are scientists and social scientists whose speciality is to attempt to systematically predict the future, whether that of pony society in particular or of life on Equestria in general.”

Twilight slammed the book shut. “She’s trying to solve a disaster that hasn't even happened yet. She’s trying to fight the future.”

The front door opened. Big Macintosh and Granny Smith stood in the doorway, looking dazed. Applebloom was resting on her big brother’s back, fast asleep.

“Mac? Granny?” Dash said. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“It’s Applejack,” Big Macintosh said. “She made us all sign employee agreements.”

“And then she let us go,” Granny Smith said.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Bic Macintosh cleared his throat. “So, can we stay the night? Ya got a couch or somethin’?”

Twilight stood up. “This ends now. We’re going to Sweet Apple Acres. And this time, we’re not taking no for an answer.”

%i%: Applejack runs out of time.

11: Applejack runs out of time.

“Talk not of genius baffled. Genius is master of man;

Genius does what it must, talent does what it can.”

Owen Meredith, last words

A clear night sky twinkled over Sweet Apple Acres. The moon cast cool light over the fields, and the river rippled brightly. The water level was twice its usual height and the banks had been shored up with concrete reinforcements. There was no current. The water was perfectly still.

A slight ripple broke the surface, and Twilight lifted her head out of the water. She was wearing sealed goggles and a snorkel. She swam over to the docks and into a boat house. She climbed out, and her midnight-blue wetsuit glistened in the night air. Four other ponies emerged from the water behind her, all similarly dressed.

Twilight pulled off her flippers and lifted her goggles up. “If my calculations are correct, our destination is only sixty meters from the dock.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Remind me again why we couldn’t have just barged in?”

Twilight shook her head. “Applejack has deployed water blasters all over her property. This place is too well defended for a frontal assault... our top priority is to get to that barn as quietly as possible.”

“I still don’t see why,” Dash said. “We don’t even know what’s in there.”

“Exactly!” Pinkie Pie said. “Big Mac and Apple Bloom told us the layout of the whole farm, and that’s the only barn they didn’t know about. It’s the only place left to search!”

“All right already,” Dash shook herself dry and walked towards the boathouse’s front exit. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“No, wait!” Twilight grabbed Dash’s tail and yanked her back inside. “If anyone sees us, they’ll send up an alarm!”

“See us?” Dash pointed out at the abandoned clearing. “Applejack fired her whole family. She’s the only one left. How’s she—”

The sound of whirring fans echoed from outside. Twilight motioned for them to back away, and then peeked out the door herself. A trio of small aircraft skimmed past: small metal gliders with a pair of fans that could rotate in any direction. They were each piloted by a pair of chickens: one to operate the rotors, and one to operate a rear-facing bullseye lantern. The gyrocopters swiveled their fans downward and hovered in place.

The girls held their breath as the chicken swept the ground with tight-beam searchlights. After a moment, they moved on.

Fluttershy peered out the door. “She must be using her farm animals as a security force. It’s not their fault: She’s taken such good care of them for so long, they’ll do anything they’re told.”

“Chickens,” Dash said through clenched teeth. “Smart enough to pilot a gyrocopter, but not smart enough to question orders.”

“We never expected her to have air support,” Rarity said. “This changes things. Should we reconsider the operation?”

“No time for that,” Twilight said. “We’ll just have to be extra careful.”

“About that plan of yours,” Dash said. “Would you mind sharing it with the rest of us?”

“I already told you. First, we infiltrate the barn and find out Applejack’s secrets. Second, we neutralize Applejack’s economic influence to prevent further action on her part. Third, we capture Applejack and take her back to the library, where we can reverse the spell once and for all.”

“I’m down with that plan,” Dash said, “But how are we supposed to capture Applejack? She could probably hoof-wrestle all five of us at the same time.”

Twilight tapped her head. “Don’t worry. It’s all up here.”

“I sure hope so,” Dash peered out the door. “There’s another squadron of chicken-choppers incoming. Wait for my mark, and follow my lead.”

The sound of whirring turbines drew near, then faded out. Dash waved her hoof and bolted out the door. The others followed behind her, staying as close together as possible.

They reached the side of the barn unseen, and pressed against the wall. The wooden structure had been fortified like a prison: a second story metal catwalk ran along all four walls, with search lanterns at every corner. Chubby pigs in blue vests and mirrored ray bans patrolled back and forth, directly above them.

Rainbow Dash waved at her friends and pointed forward. They followed her to the back of the barn, moving as quietly as they could. At last, they came to a side door.

“There’s a lock!” Dash whispered. “How’re we supposed to get through this?”

“Let me take a look!” Pinkie Pie said and stepped over to the door. “Ah, yes... I’m familiar with this sort of device. It’ll only take a minute to bypass.”

“It had better,” Dash said. “And no humming spy music to yourself while you work.”

“Awww!”

“No. That’s final.” Dash shuffled back along the wall and whispered to Twilight. “So, what about Applejack’s plan? Do we actually know what she’s trying to do?”

“Not sure yet,” Twilight said. “The train. The clover. The letters. The coal. They’re all connected somehow. It’s not about the money, either. It’s all just a means to an end.”

“I hope so,” Rarity said. “Because she’s about to control a truly silly amount of money. That much power could change anypony.”

Twilight shook her head. “Honestly? I’m more worried about this pen-pal of hers. As soon as we’re done here, we have to find out who she’s been collaborating with.”

“I bet this is all their fault,” Dash said. “Some rich city pony is probably messing with Applejack’s head and giving her all these crazy ideas.”

“What if she’s being tricked?” Fluttershy said. “Or what if Applejack truly thinks she’s doing something important?”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Dash said. “Hey, Pinkie Pie. How’s that door comin’ along?”

“Aha!” Pinkie Pie said. “I’ve figured it out. This door... is not locked!”

“What!?” Dash hissed. “Whaddya mean? It’s got a huge deadbolt!”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t locked.” Pinkie Pie pushed the door, and it drifted open with the slightest squeak. “Really, Dash. You’ve got a real blind spot for doors, don’t you?”

Rarity walked past. “There’s a reason I’m on a first name basis with all three of Ponyville’s best carpenters.”

Dash stared in shock as her friends filed into the barn.

Maybe I do have a problem after all.

Twilight crept into the barn, peering through the pitch black shadow. “What is this place? What is she keeping here?”

“Dunno, but we better find out quick. Can somepony light a lamp or something?”

“Can’t risk it. Somepony might see.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash said, “somepony like us. I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

“Alright, fine. But just a slight glow.”

Twilight concentrated, and her horn cast a faint purple light. The floor was made of recently poured concrete and the walls were bare metal sheets bolted onto iron girders. A sheet of wire mesh stretched above them, separating them from the ceiling rafters. There weren’t any tables or furnishings. No bales of hay or crates of fruit. There weren’t even any stalls.

“It’s empty!” Dash said. “We came all this way for an empty barn!?”

The door slammed shut behind them and a grid of floodlights illuminated the interior.

“Took y’all long enough.”

They looked up and saw Applejack in her black business suit. She was standing on top of the wire mesh above, looking down at them.

“What are you doing here?” Twilight called up. “Answer me!”

“Ah suppose it’s not quite so obvious to you as it was to me.” Applejack came inside, walking on jingling metal fence. “Y’see, I knew you’d talk with my family. I knew they’d tell you everything they could about the recent changes ’round here. And there was only one thing I never told them about... one building I never explained to them. This one.”

“That’s right,” Twilight said, “But we found out anyway! And now that we’re here, we’re going to stop you!”

“Doubtful.” Applejack stamped a hoof and jangled the metal fencing. “This here barn was the only mystery left for ya. The only missing clue. I knew that if you decided to interfere, this was the first place you’d go.”

“Well we made it here!” Twilight said. “Whatever you’re doing in this barn, we’ll put a stop to it!”

Rainbow Dash tapped her shoulder. “Uh, Twilight? I think she meant for us to come here.”

Twilight pushed Dash’s hoof away. “It’s over, Applejack. Now tell us what you’re doing!”

“You’re right,” Applejack said, “it is over. For you, that is. But Sweet Apple Acres is just the beginning. You see—”

“Don’t try to distract us, Applejack!” Twilight shouted. “Tell us what you’re doing!”

“Oh, I’ll tell you. Equestria is on the verge of a catastrophe! The writing’s on the wall, and I’m the only pony who sees it! The fate of all Equestria is in my hooves, and I intend—”

Twilight pointed up at her. “You think you can distract us with your speeches? I demand to know what’s going on! And especially what you’re using this barn for!”

“Would ya just let me finish one sentence?” Applejack said. “Sweet Apple Acres is the only thing standing between Equestria and total disaster! I’m tryin’ to change the inevitable, here! I’m tryin’ to change the future!”

“And we’ll stop you!”

“Actually, I was hopin’ you’d see things my way. I could do this all by myself, but I’d sure appreciate some help. With the six of us working together, we could—”

“We’ll never join you!” Twilight said. “We’ll fight to the last breath to stop you!”

Applejack scrunched her eyes shut. “Would you shut yer mouth for just one second!? I’m tryin’ to explain everything to you!”

“That may be,” Twilight said, “but there’s one thing I want to know first.”

Applejack peered down at her. “Finally. And that is?”

Twilight stamped a hoof on the concrete. “Just what the heck is this barn for? Huh? explain that!”

Applejack stared down at her for a moment.

“Ah jes’ want you to know that it physically hurts me to listen to you right now.” Applejack looked at the others. “Was I ever this clueless? Be honest.”

Rarity stepped forward. “She may be out of sorts, but at least she can still recognize her friends.”

“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash said. “At least she isn’t totally selling out! At least she isn’t being selfish and greedy!”

“Greedy!?” Applejack shouted. “What has Twilight ever used her magical gifts for? How has she changed Equestria for the better? Now that I have her talent, I can’t ignore what needs doing! I’ve seen the signs. There’s a revolution comin’ down the pipe!”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “...War!?”

“Not a military revolution, ya goof. An industrial one! Iron and steel! Coal and soot! engines and furnaces! Factories and refineries, as far as the eye can see!” Applejack walked in circles above them. “Manufacturing technology is about to grow by leaps and bounds. Cities will spring up overnight! Mines will dig into the ground! Airships will cut the clouds! Progress, mah little ponies... progress like you’ve never dreamt possible is waiting just over the horizon!”

“But that’s a good thing!” said Twilight. She glanced at the others. “Isn’t it?”

“Equestria’s population is about to explode,” Applejack said. “Industry will advance, but agriculture will still be mired in the traditions of the past. We still use pony drawn ploughs and carts. It takes months to clear wild forest, when it should take days. We lose a quarter of our crops to parasites and disease. A quarter of what’s left is spoiled because of faulty transportation and storage. If we are to survive the industrial revolution, we’ll need to kick off an agricultural revolution first.”

“There’s got to be a better way!”

“It’s the only way, Twi. Sorry. Time is more precious than you know. I’ve only got a few more hours to change the next few centuries for the better.” Applejack began walking away. “My goals haven’t changed in the slightest. I’ve simply set my sights further afield. Food enough for all of Equestria, ten times over. Cotton fields for warm winter clothes. Rare plants and herbs for salves and medicines. Homes and jobs for everypony... forever.”

“Like your own family?” Dash said. “They don’t even have a home anymore. You kicked them out.”

“I bought a country mansion for them to live in. No strings, no debts. Granny Smith said she’d rather live in a ditch than abandon her roots.” Applejack shrugged. “It’s her decision.”

Twilight stamped her hoof. “You’re wrong about this, Applejack. You can’t fix everything. It won’t work the way you expect it to.”

“Give me one good reason why not?” Applejack said. “No, really. I’m listenin’. If you’ve got an argument, I’d be all too happy to hear it.”

“Because... it’s...” Twilight shook her head. “It just won’t work! You’ve gotta trust me, Applejack! You can’t just change the world this way!”

“Just listen to your rambling!” said Applejack. “You had such genius, and you squandered it all on pointless research. I’ve had it for less than seventy-two hours, and I’ve already saved us all from a dark age of famine and upheaval. You don’t even deserve your gift!”

Twilight stared up at her in shock. “You knew!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Of course ah did!”

“Knew?” Rarity said. “Knew what?”

“She knew exactly what the ‘mind-switcher’ spell did! She knew all along, and she never told us!”

“If I had, you woulda stopped me. I even know how to change us both back to normal, and I fully intend to... but not yet. I need it for just a little longer. You’ll just have to stay here until then.” Applejack pulled a lever, and slots opened up in the walls around them. “This oughta keep you busy.”

They watched as Applejack left, locking the door behind her. The walls rumbled with the sound of hidden machinery.

“Wait a second,” Twilight said. “I think I’ve figured something out.”

The others leaned close in anticipation.

“I think... this barn... was a trap!”

“We know!!” All four of her friends yelled at once.

The slots in the walls opened wide and a series of crates and barrels tumbled out onto the concrete floor. The slots closed and the sound of machinery faded.

“Yay! Presents!” Pinkie Pie went to the nearest barrel and opened the top.

“No, don’t!” Rainbow Dash said. “It could be full of poison gas or something!”

“Nope!” Pinkie Pie said. “It’s full of apples! I was getting hungry, too!”

Dash arched an eyebrow. “Are they poison apples?”

Fluttershy opened a second crate. “This one has pillows and sleeping bags.”

Rarity opened a third crate. “Parchisi? This one is full of party games.”

Dash arched her other eyebrow. “Is it... poison Parchisi?”

“Wow!” Pinkie Pie said, “This is the best inescapable-trap-of-impending-doom ever!”

“We’ve got to find a way out!” Twilight said. “Didn’t you hear Applejack's plans? We have to stop her before she ends all world hunger!”

The others looked at her for a moment.

“Twilight, dear?” Rarity said. “Did you actually think about that before you said it?”

“Of course I didn’t!” Twilight yanked at her own mane, infuriated. “That’s the entire problem or haven’t you been paying attention!?”

Rarity sighed. “I suppose we should try to think of an escape plan. For posterity’s sake, at least.”

“We don’t have time for plans!” Twilight said. “No matter what we come up with, Applejack will just be ten steps ahead of us! We have to do this with absolutely no plan whatsoever. That way, she can’t predict us!”

“I meant a plan to get us out of this barn.”

“No! No time!” Twilight ran to the side door they’d came in through. She opened it up and rushed outside. “Come on, girls! Let’s just wing it from here!”

Fluttershy pointed at the now open door. “Did she just...?”

Pinkie Pie shrugged. “I guess somepony had to check if it was locked.”

Twilight poked her head back in. “What are you waiting for? Hurry!”

“But the door!” Rarity said. “How did you know?”

“No time!” Twilight said. “We’ll figure out how to open it later, and come back when we have more time!”

So many things to take care of. So little time. Applejack marched along the west road, scribbling frantically. So much of this depends on her... I just hope I’m not putting too much weight on her back.

She came to the boathouse, but paused to look back at the farmhouses in the distance. She watched the narrow searchlights sweeping over the roads and the water cannon turrets slowly turning back and forth.

It’ll all be over soon. Just a few more hours, and it’ll all be up to her. The one pony who can’t be stopped is the only pony I can’t possibly predict.

A splintery explosion broke the silence. Applejack spun around and watched as one of the larger grain silos began to tilt over. A second explosion echoed out, and a rainbow trail cut through the wooden supports of a second silo. The towers crashed to the ground and sent up a huge cloud of dust.

“What!?”

“How did you like them apples!”

“You!” Applejack spun around and squinted at Twilight. “Don’t you know what’s best for ya?”

“Not even remotely!” Twilight said, triumphant. The rest of her friends rallied beside her. “It’s over, Applejack! We’ve destroyed your entire supply of clover seed!”

“So?” Applejack said. “I already planted all the clover I need.”

“Oh,” Twilight said. “Well, we also broke out of your trap!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “I can plainly see that, Twi.”

“And now, you’re going to tell us how to end this spell. You’re going to tell us how to set everything back the way it was... the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Or else what?” Applejack said. “You can’t stop my plan. Nopony can. In a few more hours, even I won’t be able to stop it. It’ll be out of my hooves for good.”

“We know all about your pen-pal,” Twilight said. “You’ve been sending a lot of letters to somepony in Manehattan. And once we find your conspirator, we’ll put a stop to this for good.”

“Conspirator?” Applejack said with a chuckle. “I guess you could call ’em that. But it won’t do you any good. You’ll never be able to stop ’em.”

“We’ll see.”

“Well that’s just yer problem, innit? You will see, eventually. But I already see. I can read y’all like a book. A predictable book. And I gotta tell ya, girls...” Applejack glared at them, menacingly. “...This story won’t end well for none of ya.”

Rarity leaned closer to Twilight and whispered. “You said you had a plan to capture her, didn’t you?”

Twilight nodded. “I still do.”

“Well then!” Applejack said. “Let’s see this plan of yours. Let’s see what the high-and-mighty Twilight Sparkle can do without her great genius.”

Twilight lifted her head and took a deep breath.

“Get her!!”

The five ponies charged at their former friend in a disorganized stampede, yelling at the top of their lungs. Their hooves thundered against the wooden dock of the boat house.

Applejack’s eyes flicked between each of them in an instant. She reared up and stamped her hoof down on the dock platform, breaking one of the wooden planks in half: One half flipped into the air and slammed into Rainbow Dash’s nose as she flew close. Applejack grabbed her tail in her mouth and spun her around full circle, sending her straight into Fluttershy and knocking them both out of the air.

Pinkie Pie whipped a giant tubular cannon out of nowhere and fired a barrage of cotton-candy blobs at her. Applejack did a backflip and kicked her hind legs against the wall of the boathouse behind her. She vaulted over the sticky missiles and landed next to Pinkie Pie. The wooden plank she landed on spun under the impact like a see-saw and catapulted Pinkie Pie up and into the lake. Applejack caught the discarded cotton candy cannon before it hit the ground and fired it at Rarity, slamming her against the trunk of a nearby tree.

“Ya daft fools!” She cried, firing the cannon at Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash. “I saw a disaster comin’ centuries in advance! You think I wouldn’t be able to deal with a bunch of—hurk!!”

Applejack lurched back as Twilight slammed into her with a flying tackle. They both tumbled to the ground, wrestling back and forth. Applejack’s strength was far superior, but the assault kept her busy for several precious seconds. Rainbow Dash scooped Pinkie Pie out of the river and dropped her on Applejack, then joined the fray herself. Rarity’s magic pulled the cotton candy away and she and Fluttershy leapt into the fight with a pair of high-pitched cries.

The six ponies tumbled along in a cloud of dust, biting and kicking and shoving. After a minute or so, Applejack was flat on her back and trussed up with chains. The others gasped for breath as they got to their feet. Rarity took a moment to tidy her mane, and Pinkie Pie shook the water out of her hair.

“That was your plan all along?” Rainbow Dash said. “Get her?”

“I think it was a great idea!” said Pinkie Pie. “If your enemy knows all your plans before you do, then the best plan is no plan at all!”

“It does sort of make sense,” Fluttershy said, “in a Pinkie sort of way.”

Twilight smiled, tentatively. “I guess it did!”

Dash pointed at Applejack. “And what about her?”

Twilight walked over to her. “Tell me how to reverse the spell. Tell me how to change us both back.”

Applejack gazed at her, silently.

Dash shook her head. “She’s not going to talk.”

“Then let’s take her back to the library,” Twilight said. “At least she can’t do any more harm.”

“Harm?” Applejack said. “I’ve been tryin’ to save Equestria! I still can, if you’d just let me write a few more letters!”

“She might have a point,” said Rarity. “She’s done some dreadful things, but what if she’s right? What if there’s a good reason for all this?”

“But at what cost?” Fluttershy said. “Think of all the animals who lost their homes. Think of Granny Smith, and Big Mac, and poor little Applebloom.”

Applejack shook her head. “It hurt me more than any of you know, but you have to let me finish this. We’re so close to a solution... I just need to write a few more letters.”

Everypony looked at Twilight.

“No,” Twilight said. “The problem you want to solve has no economic solution. It’s not about agriculture or industry. In fact, increasing the productivity of Equestria’s farmlands would only exacerbate the problem: a population always expands to meet the confines of its living space and food supply. Our population would increase exponentially. Mass manufacturing would put countless ponies out of jobs, and only a tiny number of wealthy ponies would reap the profits.”

Applejack’s lower lip trembled. “W-what?”

“Overpopulation and distribution of wealth is a social problem. More food, more money and more houses won’t help. Ponies don’t need more stuff... they need to learn to be more responsible with the resources they already have. They need to live inharmony with the world.”

“But I don’t understand!” Applejack said. “I thought I was helping!”

“Give a pony an apple, and she’ll only eat for a day. But teach a pony to farm...” Twilight gave her a gentle smile. “A social problem requires a social solution. It requires a community. Family. Friendship.”

Applejack’s lower lip trembled.

“I’m sorry, y’all... I’m so... so sorry.”

Rarity looked into Twilight’s eyes, bright and sharp for the first time all day. “It’s good to have you back, Twilight.”

Pinkie Pie stepped closer. “Does that mean old Applejack is back again?”

“It won’t be long now,” Applejack said with a sniffle.

Twilight’s eyes widened. “You knew it would wear off all by itself. You even knew how much time you had left.”

Applejack scrunched her eyes shut. “I only had two days. Two days to save the world.”

“Wrong, Applejack.” Twilight unlocked her chains and gave her a hug. “You’ve got a whole lifetime.”

Applejack hugged her in return, still sniffling. “Dunno if one lifetime is enough.”

Rarity stepped out of the two-pony carriage and into the bustling, brightly-lit streets of Manehattan. She looked up at the towering skyscraper above. “Pretty impressive sight, isn’t it?”

Applejack climbed out next to her, dressed in her black business suit. She stared up in awe as she walked next to Rarity. “Land sakes, but it’s been awhile since I’ve been here.”

“You must have been a little filly back then,” Rarity said. “Does it seem smaller, now?”

Applejack shook her head. “Quite the opposite.”

“Come on. We don’t want to keep anypony waiting.”

Applejack followed her in, staring at the grand foyer’s amazing architecture. She fidgeted with her suit and tried not to stare at the other ponies. They went up several flights of stairs and came at last to a large waiting room. Rarity went to the receptionist and shared a few quiet words. After only a moment, she nodded them through.

“Hope I don’t look a fool,” Applejack said. “I feel as out of place as a three legged mule in a kickin’ contest.”

“You’ll be fine, dear!” Rarity said. “Just stop fussing with your outfit.”

“Can’t hardly help it. This blasted monkey-suit itches all over.”

Rarity led her into an office, and the two of them sat down in front of a gargantuan mahogany desk. A handsome, middle-aged stallion turned in his chair and fixed them with an appraising eye.

“Miss Applejack. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, y’see, there’s been a terrible mix up recently.” Applejack rolled her eyes. “I’ve made a whole buncha mistakes and I’m tryin’ my darndest to set everything back the way it was.”

“Mistakes?” The stallion said. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your recent purchases, would it?”

“Ah... it just might.”

“And the six-month early crop report that has the stock exchange all abuzz?”

“Some, maybe.”

“And the seventy-eight trademarks you submitted to the Equestria Intellectual Property Registry?”

“Mighta done that, too.”

“The trust fund, the invention patents, the bulk cargo contracts, the commodities investments—”

“Look, it’s all very complicated and I wasn’t in a right state of mind for most of it. I was hopin’ to call it all off and just... call it squaresey.”

“I see.” The stallion leaned forward. “That may be difficult.”

Applejack swallowed. “How difficult?”

“If you can provide us with a medical statement that certifies you as having suffered impaired judgment, we can arrange to have the majority of your decisions overturned.”

“We can!” Rarity said. “A rather potent magical spell was affecting her mind. I have all the empirical proof with me, with a royal seal of authenticity. Princess Celestia’s prize student did the work herself.”

“Very well. You can leave it with my secretary on the way out. We’ll see to it as quickly as possible.”

“Thank you so much!” Applejack said. “I really can’t tell ya how much of a relief this is!”

“There is the matter of the lockbox, of course.”

“The what?”

“Over the last seventy two hours, Miss Applejack, you sent this bank over a hundred letters.”

Applejack’s eyes widened. “They all went here?”

“Indeed. They contained instructions regarding local business exchanges and stock investments. You opened an account with us, purchased several hundred shares of various companies, and sold them for a rather enormous profit. You then requested that the proceeds be placed in a trust fund for two hundred and fifty years. You also rented a lockbox in the long-term storage vault, also for two hundred and fifty years.”

Applejack stared at him, slack jawed. “Why would I do that!?”

“Not my place to say. But the lockbox does contain several unopened letters, written by you. I can only assume they contain further instructions on what to do with the trust fund.”

“All right, then. I’ve changed my mind. Let me see this lockbox.”

“Not possible. Your instructions explicitly stated that the box was not to be opened early, for any reason.”

“Don’t you give me the ring-around! That’s my property in there!”

“Your letters said you would say that. You left instructions that disassociate you from all ownership of the lockbox and its contents.”

Applejack glared at him. “You bring me that lockbox this instant, or I will take my business elsewhere!”

“Your letters also said you would say that. The last instructions we received were to close all accounts and use the remaining funds to pay off any outstanding debts and loans. You seem to have preemptively taken your business elsewhere.”

Applejack stared at him for a moment.

“Very good. You should know, sir, that this was a test. I’m glad to see that you stuck to your principles. I’m very proud of ya, and now that the test is over you can pass the box over. It’s served it’s purpose.”

The stallion nodded. “Your letters said you would definitely say that.”

Applejack leaned back in her chair. “Consarnit! I’m always ten steps ahead of myself!”

“What about royal fiat?” said Rarity. “Would you give us the lockbox if the Princess commanded it?”

“Firstly, the Princess would never issue such an illegal and unethical order. Secondly, if she did, we would immediately sue for unlawful abuse of royal power. And according to Celestia’s own laws, we would win that court case.” He shook his head. “This bank is utterly committed to maintaining its contracts.”

“But it’s not fair! I don’t even remember sending those letters. I don’t remember doing any of this. This was my last chance to figure out what the hay was going on.”

“I’m very sorry, Miss Applejack. But whatever your reasons were, you certainly seemed to think they were important.”

She slumped back in her seat. “And here I thought I was sending letters to a pony.”

The stallion leaned on his desk. “You truly don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember what I wrote, but I coulda sworn I was writin’ to a real, flesh’n blood pony. I figured if I found her, she would have some answers for me.” Applejack looked out of the bay window behind the stallion, at the cityscape beyond. “Ah guess we’ll never know for sure.”

Rarity set a hoof on her shoulder. “Don’t let it upset you, Applejack. What’s done is done.”

Applejack set a hoof on her hoof. “...Yeah.”

“Seed? Are you in there, seed?”

Appleseed leaned back against her bed and turned up the volume on her aPod. She went back to scribbling in her diary, doodling a picture of the awesome sports car she would never have. Gull wing doors, solid gold hubcaps, those cool neon lights that glowed along the underside. Her tiny horn glowed, and a box of crayons drifted over.

Red. Gotta be red.

The pounding on the door grew louder. “Sweetie? Open up, please!”

She rolled her eyes and continued scribbling.

“Sweetie? Are you in there? I’m coming in, now.”

She hurriedly sat on the edge of her bed. Her horn glowed, and a set of orange-and-red knee-length socks hovered close. She pulled one halfway onto her leg and waited.

The door opened and her mother peeked inside. “Sweetie? Are you—”

“Mom!!” She whipped around and pulled the bed sheet over herself. “I’m getting dressed! What is wrong with you!?”

Her mother gasped and slammed the door shut. “Sorry! I didn’t—”

“You promised, mom! You promised you’d always knock! Why do you always lie to me!?”

“I’m very sorry, dear, but there’s somepony here to see you. It’s important. Now finish getting dressed and come downstairs.”

She stared at the door, perplexed. That always gets to her. What’s up?

She left her room, snatching up a portable gaming device along the way. She stared at the tiny screen as she walked through their cramped high-rise apartment. Ever since dad left, they couldn’t afford a real house. She was glad he was gone, really... but there were a lot of things they couldn’t afford now. She went into the kitchen and flopped down at the table.

“Miss Appleseed?”

She looked up and flinched as she saw the pony sitting across from her: a middle-aged mare in a sleek business suit.

“Um... yeah?”

“Good afternoon Miss Appleseed,” The mare said. “My name is Capital Gains. I’m here on behalf of the Royal Bank of Equestria.”

Appleseed eyed her. “Um... kay. Why?”

“I am here to act as your financial advisor.” She set out a long metal box. “We were given instructions to open this lockbox at a certain date. Inside, we found instructions to give you ownership of its contents.”

Appleseed frowned at her. “Why me?”

“The instructions don’t refer to you by name. The box was to remain in storage for two hundred and fifty years. It was to be given to the youngest living member of the Apple family over fourteen years of age. You and your mother are the only ponies left who can claim any direct ancestry.”

Appleseed stared at the box. “Two hundred years!?”

“Two hundred and fifty.” Capital Gains opened the box and laid several old letters and documents on the table. “These are all meant for you. There’s also a trust fund and a land deed, to be transferred to your name. It will only take a minute.”

Appleseed took up a few of the grainy black and white photographs she’d arranged on the table. They were all pictures of land and old wooden buildings.

“...What is this, anyway?”

“A farm, miss Appleseed.”

Appleseed looked up at her. “What’s that?”

Capital Gains pursed her lips. She looked concerned. “It’s for growing food.”

“Oh. Don’t we have ’ponics for that?”

“There are... concerns, shall we say, about the long term sustainability of Equestria’s hydroponics system. Parliament continues to insist there are no problems, but our bank isn’t quite so optimistic.”

Appleseed shuffled through a bunch of newer photos, all in colour. “This is all mine now? It looks like a bunch of junk.”

“It’s been abandoned for over a century. There’s still one large house in good repair, but the other buildings are dilapidated and the fields are completely overgrown. The trust fund totals a million and a quarter bits—owing to the magic of compound interest—but it’ll cost half of that to fix everything up.”

Appleseed paused as one of the photos caught her eye: a group of four ponies, all ages, gathered on the front porch of a large country house.

Gains pointed at the photo. “That’s your great, great, great, great, great grandmother, Applebloom, before she got her cutie mark. We were unable to identify the others.”

She looked up at her mother.

“It’s your decision, sweetie. You’re sixteen now. You can do as you like.”

She bit her lip, thinking about how many times they’d moved because of dad’s work. How many times she’d had to start over from nothing... how many friends she’d lost track of. Mother had promised they’d never move again.

“I dunno... maybe we should just sell the land or something.”

“If you did, the trust fund would default. But the land itself is still worth twenty or thirty thousand.” Gains tapped the photo of the country house. “You could simply live on the estate, and use the fund to pay your daily expenses. You don’t have to cultivate the land.”

Appleseed took up the family photo and looked at the smiling faces.

I wonder what apples taste like?

Applejack followed Rarity out of the foyer and into the street, where the carriage awaited them. She looked up at the towering skyscraper above.

Rarity opened the carriage door but paused to look back at her. “Don’t let it get to you too much, Applejack. Let’s just focus on the here and now.”

Applejack climbed into the carriage and stared out the window.

She’s probably right... we’ll never know for sure.

%i%: Twilight goes beyond the impossible.

12: Twilight goes beyond the impossible.

“Advice is seldom welcome; and those who want it the most always like it least.”

Philip Dormer Stanhope

Fluttershy trotted down the dirt path that led to Sweet Apple Acres, balancing a wicker basket on her back. She came to the archway and nodded to Big Mac, who was busy replacing the shiny metal ‘Sweet Apple Acres’ sign with the original hoof-carved wooden one. He finished hammering one last nail before waving at her with a smile.

She smiled back at him, and turned off the road and walked to the gazebo. The rest of her friends were already there, sitting on a checkerboard cloth and talking cheerfully. Applejack was lying on her side, asleep. She’d barely slept at all during the last two days, and she and Rarity had just come back from an overnight round-trip to Manehattan.

“Hello, everypony!” Fluttershy said. “How is she feeling?”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how hard it is to convince Applejack to sleep in. We practically had to barricade the door to her bedroom.”

“Nine o’clock?” Pinkie Pie said, mimicking Applejack’s accent perfectly. “Y’all daft in th’ head? Day’s half over!”

Fluttershy set her basket down. “She certainly looks peaceful now.”

“Maybe,” Rainbow Dash said, “but you shoulda heard her before.”

“Oh?”

“She kept talking about herself as if she was somepony else. She can’t remember half of it, doesn’t understand the rest, and blames herself for all of it.”

“The spell faded on its own,” Rarity said, “but for just a few minutes there, she was in-between. She could remember everything she’d done, but couldn’t remember why.”

Everypony looked down.

Fluttershy sat with them and took a few treats out of her basket. “We have to remember she wasn’t herself. That’s the important thing.”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, “and I’m glad to have our Applejack back. Being smart isn’t everything!”

“I think that’s a very good lesson for a certain somepony else, too. Maybe Twilight and Applejack should write a report to the princess together! What do you think?” Fluttershy glanced around. After a moment, her smile faded. “Where’s Twilight? Wasn’t she going to join us?”

“We thought you were going to bring her along.”

Fluttershy sighed and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

Fluttershy landed in front of the library and opened the front door. Spike was sitting on a table, wringing his claws together. Twilight was standing in front of her wall calendar. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot.

Fluttershy walked next to her. She looked at Twilight’s eyes and followed her gaze to the last day of the week: the very last day with a red strike-through. Today.

“Twilight?”

Twilight’s eye twitched erratically. “Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy swallowed. “We were going to have a picnic today. With you.”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “That is... a true thing. However could I have forgotten.”

“It’s okay,” Fluttershy said, “everypony makes mistakes now and then, right?”

Twilight immediately laughed: a rapid, staccato sound. Fluttershy tried to laugh along with her but couldn’t muster the courage.

Twilight’s laughter cut off abruptly. “Yes. Everypony.”

Fluttershy looked back at Spike. He simply shrugged.

“Twilight. I think... maybe... you should...”

Twilight turned to look at her. Very. Slowly. “I can always rely on my good friends to help me in my time of need. Can’t I.”

Fluttershy backed away a few steps. “Um. Well yes, of course.”

Twilight walked towards her. “Friendship is the solution to everything, isn’t it. Everything. So I should probably ask my friends for help.”

Fluttershy backed away. “I suppose!”

“I’ve already asked everypony else for help. Rainbow Dash. Rarity. Applejack. Pinkie Pie. All of my friends. Except one.”

Fluttershy backed up against the wall and sat down, her lower lip trembling. “Can’t we just have a picnic, please?”

“You, Fluttershy, are the only friend who hasn’t given me a piece of advice. You must have an idea. A piece of wisdom. A unique point of view. Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes. I need you to say what’s really on your mind. Be totally, brutally, crushingly, savagely honest with me. I don’t care what you say: it’s almost certain to be the one thing I need to finish this incredibly vital project within the next eighteen hours.”

Fluttershy’s eyes darted left and right. “Promise you won’t be mad at me?”

“I promise.”

“Can I have a scroll? And a pen?”

Twilight’s horn glowed, and a full set of writing implements appeared in front of her. Fluttershy took a fountain pen in her mouth and scribbled something on the scroll.

“There you go. I hope it helps.”

Twilight turned the scroll around and read it eagerly. Her ears drooped in disappointment, and she read aloud. “Dear Princess Celestia I can’t finish this project for u k thx bye.”

Fluttershy smiled up at her. “So, picnic?”

“What is this!?” Twilight waved the scroll in her face. “You were supposed to help me in my final hour of need!”

“But you wanted me to be totally, brutally, crushingly, savagely honest with you.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and tossed the scroll aside. “Not that honest.”

“Well, why can’t you tell her that? She’ll understand, won’t she?”

“I can’t let her think that I gave up!”

“You’ve been trying all week. You’ve tried your very best. There’s no shame in that, but you have to accept the truth. You have to let it go.”

“No! Not while there’s still time! There must be some way to—”

Fluttershy set a hoof on her mouth. She gazed into her eyes and spoke softly. “Let it go, Twilight. Let it go.”

Twilight stared back at her. “I... but I...”

“You have to accept that maybe—just maybe—you can’t do this. You’ve tried your best, but the princess may have given you an impossible task.”

“But she knows me! She must think I can do this!”

“She knows you, yes. But she might not understand this project. If she understood it completely, she could simply do it herself. Maybe she doesn’t realize how difficult it truly is. Maybe she’s wrong.”

Twilight stamped her hoof. “Celestia is never wrong!”

Fluttershy pursed her lips.

Twilight looked away. “That sounded really pretentious, didn’t it?”

“She’s a princess, and she’s very wise. But tell me, Twilight: does she think of herself as perfect?”

“Of course not. She doesn’t think that at all.”

“Maybe that’s because she knows she isn’t.” Fluttershy picked up the scroll and passed it to her. “She won’t think any less of you, I promise. She’s asking you to do the impossible.”

“Impossible,” Twilight said, her eyes brightening. “You’re right. It is impossible!”

“There we go!” Fluttershy said. “Just take all of that tension, all of your fears and doubts, and bundle it all up together. Then allow yourself to let go of it!”

“Impossible. It’s impossible!” Twilight smiled and did a joyful little dance. “It really is! I feel so free, now. I can’t believe I was ever so worried about this! Thank you so much, Fluttershy!”

“You’re very welcome, Twilight! I’m just glad I was able to help you after all.” She nodded to the front door. “So, shall we go to the picnic?”

“I would love to, really. But this is my very last day off and—”

“I understand completely. I’ll tell the others you want to relax on your own.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said. “And I mean that. I think you told me exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you.”

“Just remember to send that letter. I’m sure Celestia will understand completely.”

“Right, of course. Immediately.”

Fluttershy walked to the front door and waved goodbye.

Wow... not only did I stand up for myself, but I actually managed to help her! This whole ‘self confidence’ thing must be working out better than I thought.

Twilight waved goodbye to Fluttershy, then closed the door with a chuckle.

“I can always count on her to be the sensible one.”

“So,” Spike said, “ready to send a letter?”

“Absolutely not!” said Twilight with smile. “Get the equipment ready. I know exactly how to finish this up!”

Spike stared at her. “But you said it was impossible! I heard you say it, right to her face! You lied to Fluttershy!?”

“Don’t be silly. She was absolutely right.”

“Then how are we supposed to get it done if it’s impossible?”

Twilight grinned as widely as her face would allow. “Precisely!”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders strolled down main street, carrying rugged little saddlebags. Their manes were rumpled and unkempt, but they were smiling and talking.

“Best camping trip ever!” Scootaloo said. “Applejack was right; it felt just like being in a real forest!”

“I never thought it would be so dark out,” Sweetie Belle said. “There were twice as many stars in the sky and they were so much clearer!”

“I just wish we’d gotten a campfire goin’,” Applebloom said, “I was looking forward to roasting marshmallows.”

“I think your big sis was right,” Scootaloo said, “fire is dangerous without a grownup around. We’ll just have to—”

Scootaloo stopped as she walked past a rickety lemonade stand on the side of the road. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle bumped into her, then looked up at the stand themselves. The word “lemonade” had been covered with a tablecloth that was painted with the words “free cutie marks.” The stand was, at the moment, unattended.

The three of them stared up at the sign for a full minute. Scootaloo looked back at her friends, both of whom shrugged. Scootaloo stepped forward and tapped the little desk bell.

There was the sound of a slide whistle as Twilight Sparkle lifted up into view behind the desk: she moved like she was sitting on an elevator or something.

“Why hello, girls! Can I get you something?”

“I’m...” Scootaloo looked at Twilight’s broad grin and asynchronous blinking. “...Skeptical.”

“Now now girls,” Twilight said, “no need to be shy!”

Applebloom frowned at her. “Didn’t you try this on me before?”

“Yuh huh!” Twilight said.

“And didn’t it not work?” said Applebloom. “You said that not even magic can make a cutie mark appear before its time.”

“Ye-he-he-he-essss!” said Twilight, “you might even say it’s... impossible!”

Applebloom watched Twilight as she rubbed her front hooves together with glee.

“Y’know, Granny Smith warned me about talkin’ to strangers.”

“But she isn’t a stranger,” Sweetie Belle said, “she’s Twilight Sparkle. Isn’t she?”

Applebloom pointed at Twilight. “I double dare you to say this ain’t strange.”

“Come on, girls!” Twilight said, “won’t you give it a try? It’s for a good cause!”

Scootaloo watched as Twilight urgently bounced on her seat.

“Alright then,” Scootaloo said, “let’s do this.”

“Scoots,” Sweetie Belle said, “are you sure about this? Something about this seems a little off.”

Applebloom bit her bottom lip. “Everything about this seems a little off.”

“But what if it works?” Scootaloo said, “shouldn’t we give it a try?”

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle looked away.

Scootaloo stepped up to the stand and cleared her throat. “Alright, then. One cutie mark, please. To go.”

“Wonderfull! Just stand right there.”

Twilight Sparkle’s horn glowed and an aura of glittering purple light surrounded Scootaloo. Twilight strained with effort, and the glow brightened to near-blinding intensity. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle backed away and covered their eyes just as a shockwave of energy cascaded outward.

They opened their eyes and saw Scootaloo lying on her side, dazed. She looked up at them, wobbly-eyed. “Did it work?”

Applejack and Sweetie Belle stared at her flank, slack jawed and wide-eyed.

“It worked!?” Scootaloo said, “Oh-mi-gosh, it did work! What is it? What does it look like!?”

Applebloom scraped a hoof against the dirt road. “Ahhh...”

Sweetie Belle looked away, rolling her eyes. “Well...”

Scootaloo shot upright and twisted her head around to look at her own flank. A look of perplexed confusion appeared on her face: There on her flank was a smaller picture of Scootaloo herself, viewed from the side. The Scootaloo in the mark was twisting her head around to look at her own flank, with a look of perplexed confusion on her face.

Scootaloo looked up at Twilight Sparkle. “What.”

Twilight Sparkle sighed and slumped over the countertop. “Back to the drawing board. Again.”

“You can make it go away, can’t you?”

“Probably, but it’ll have to wait.” Twilight hung a ‘closed’ sign on the front of the stand and began arranging magical tools and supplies on the table. “I’m just too busy today.”

“What!?” Scootaloo ran around in front of her. “This is the dumbest cutie mark ever! You gotta fix it, quick like!”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Well you know, girls, nopony gets to choose their mark. So you really shouldn’t complain either way.”

“So,” Sweetie Belle said, “are you saying we should learn to be more accepting of things that aren’t under our control?”

“Yeah sure,” said Twilight, “we’ll go with that.”

Scootaloo stamped her hoof. “I’m telling!”

Applejack leaned close and stared at the tiny picture of Scootaloo, looking at her own flank with a perplexed expression. Applejack leaned further back and looked at the full sized—but still relatively small—Scootaloo, looking at her own flank with a perplexed expression.

“Well if that don’t beat all,” said Applejack. “I’ve never seen nuthin’ like it before. It’s really a cutie mark, too: not just one of those lick’em and stick’em tatoos.”

Scootaloo glared at Applejack. “So how do we fix it?”

Applejack rubbed the side of her face. “I’ll be honest, little ’un. I ain’t got the slightest idea. Whenever something weird crops up, we’d usually ask Twilight to take a look at it.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that’s gonna work this time.”

“Ah s’pose not,” Applejack said. She squinted and leaned closer. “Wait a second... I think the cutie mark of Scootaloo has a Scootaloo cutie mark of its own that looks just the same! And that Scootaloo has a cutie mark of it’s own, too!”

Applebloom pulled Applejack’s head away before she could become too bewildered. “Don’t bother, big sis. We took her to the hospital and borrowed the microscope: It’s Scootaloos all the way down.”

Applejack’s ears perked up. “Land sakes. How is that even possible?”

“Hey, girls!” Rainbow Dash called from above. She hovered down and dropped to the ground. “I hear somepony finally got their cutie mark! Congrats, Scoots! Was it worth the wait?”

“Not really.” Scootaloo turned to show her mark, looking frustrated rather than perplexed. “Twilight used her magic to make it appear.”

Dash tilted her head. “Your cutie mark is a little Scootaloo?”

“Worse than that,” she said. “It’s a cutie mark of Scootaloo that has a cutie mark of Scootaloo that has a cutie mark of Scootaloo that has a—”

“I get it, already,” Rainbow Dash said. She took a closer look at the recursive image. “Well that’s twenty-percent cooler.”

Scootaloo’s ears flicked up a bit. “Really? You think so?”

“Don’t even joke about this!” Applejack said to Rainbow Dash. “This is a terrible thing to have happened!”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Do you remember the first time I said ‘twenty-percent cooler?’ ”

“Well, yeah. Rarity told me about it. She made you a dress for the Gala, and it was a real pretty dress too.”

Rainbow Dash idly examined her hoof. “Until?”

Applejack bit her bottom lip. “Until you said it needed to be ‘twenty-percent cooler,’ and she started adding crazy accessories to it, but it only made the whole thing look tacky and ugly.”

Scootaloo looked at her new cutie mark. “So when you say something is ‘twenty-percent cooler’, it means you tried to make something cooler by slapping something new onto it, but it just made it lame instead?”

Rainbow Dash clucked her tongue and pointed at Scootaloo.

Scootaloo’s bottom lip quivered. “Well then I don’t want to be twenty percent cooler! Can’t I just go back to being regular cool?”

Rainbow Dash patted Scootaloo on the back. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll go talk to Twilight and have her fix this up. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Yay!” Scootaloo said with a smile. “Thank you so much!”

“Ah better go with ya,” Applejack said, “there’s no tellin’ what state she’s in right now.”

“She set up a lemonade stand on main street,” Applebloom said. “She might still be there.”

“Ooh!” Rainbow Dash said, “that sound pretty tasty!”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Sweetie Belle said. “Life did not give her lemons today. I dunno what it gave her, and I don’t wanna know.”

“We’re really sorry about all this,” Applejack said, “but Twilight’s been having a pretty hard week. We’ll talk some sense into her. Y’all go on home, now.”

Applejack smiled and waved as the Cutie Mark Crusaders walked away. As soon as they were out of sight, she slumped her shoulders.

“Ah figured it wouldn’t be over quite so easily.”

Rainbow Dash said “it’s not as bad as some of the other stuff she’s done lately.”

Applejack shook her head and walked down the road. “It’s not a matter of bad or worse. This shouldn’t be happening at all. She shouldn’t be casting spells on ponies willy-nilly.”

“I dunno,” Rainbow Dash said, “so far, her spells haven’t done anything that couldn’t be undone. She is the princess’s best student, after all. She probably knows what she’s doing.”

Applejack frowned. “You know, they always say she’s her most faithful student... we dunno if she’s her brightest. I don’t know what we’ll do if poor little Scoots is stuck this way forever.”

“You’re worrying too much,” said Dash. “I’m sure Twilight can make it better.”

“But what if she can’t, this time?”

“Then I’m sure she’ll find a way to make it better.”

Applejack bit her bottom lip. “But what if she can’t find a way?”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “Then she’ll just have to look harder.” She reared up and slammed one hoof against the other.

Applejack kept quiet for the rest of the walk. After a minute or so, they came to Twilight Sparkle’s vendor stand. There was no sign, and the table was full of magical scrolls and enchanted writing tools. There were several baskets and half-barrels filled with unusual, miscellaneous bric-a-brac. There was a sparse crowd of ponies gathered about, peering at the items on display. Nopony seemed willing to make an actual purchase.

“Hey Twilight,” Dash said, “could you spare a minute?”

“Ut-ut-ut!” Twilight Sparkle said and scribbled frantically on a scroll. “Almost, and there we go. All done.”

Twilight Set both hooves on the table and her horn flashed with light. The writing on the scroll burned with purple light and the scroll disintegrated. When the spell finished, there was a metal cube on the table: a hollow frame.

“Not again,” said Twilight. She picked up the cube and tossed into a nearby barrel. “Sorry about that. Is there something I can do for you, Rainbow Dash?”

Dash nodded to her. “We just spoke with the C.M.Cs, and Scoots needs some help.”

“Right, right. That whole thing.” Twilight set out a fresh scroll and began scribbling on it. “By my calculations, the false cutie mark should fade away in a few hours all by itself.”

Applejack stared at the barrel full of cubic metal frames. There were over a hundred of them. “Hey, Twi? What do these do?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see if I couldn’t make them.” Twilight finished the new scroll and passed it to Dash. “If the mark isn’t gone by tomorrow morning, have her read this scroll aloud. It should negate the effect.”

“There, see?” Rainbow Dash said to Applejack. “I told you everything would be cool.”

Applejack lifted up one of the discarded cube frames and looked at its edges. “Twi? Is it just me, or is there something weird about these?”

“They’re called ‘necker cubes.’ You can have one for free, if you like. I bet they’d make great paperweights or bookends.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dash said. “So about this whole magical assignment of yours: You’re finished with it, right?”

Twilight grinned at her. “I’ve discovered that the assignment is impossible!”

“Great!” said Dash. “So this whole lemonade stand thingy is just for fun, then?”

Twilight worked her jaw for a moment. “You could say that, yes.”

“That’s great to hear. Isn’t that right, Applejack?”

Applejack turned the cube around very slowly as she stared at it. “So weird. It looks like those two parts are on top of those other two parts. But they can’t be!”

“Yup!” said Twilight, still grinning. “They’re impossible. Do you want one?”

Applejack rummaged in one of the baskets and took out a two-pronged tuning fork with three prongs. “My head hurts.”

A young stallion approached the vendor stand. “Excuse me? Do you have any of those triangle thingies? The ones that have square-shaped corners, but you can’t tell which part of it is closest?”

“A penrose triangle!” Twilight said, “excellent choice, sir! Just give me a few minutes and I’ll see what I can whip up.”

“Now hold on there,” Applejack said, “this is getting ridiculous. Hasn’t the last week taught you a single thing?”

Twilight glanced to each side. “I don’t know what you mean. What do you mean?”

“You need to take a break from all these magical shenanigans. You said yourself that this crazy assignment of yours was impossible.”

“Exactly!” Twilight said and pointed at the various impossible objects for sale. “These spells are impossible, so they can’t possibly succeed! And if they can’t succeed, then they can’t possibly fail!”

Applejack closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath.

“All right. I want you to promise not to cast any more weird spells today. And you need to go back to the library and send Princess Celestia a letter as soon as possible. It’s important.”

“But—”

“No!” Applejack said. “This is all over and done with, ya hear me?”

Twilight’s bottom lip quivered. “Can’t I just try one more spell out? Please? Just one?”

Applejack frowned at her.

“Oh fine,” Rainbow Dash said. “Just hurry up already.”

Applejack tensed, eyes wide with panic. “No! Don’t listen—”

“Ka-zoomy magic-a-go-go!” Twilight shouted. Her horn flashed and a torrent of magical energy surrounded Applejack and Rainbow Dash.

“—To her!” Applejack said. She held her breath for a moment, expecting the worst.

“I don’t believe it!” said Twilight. “I was so sure it wouldn’t work. Physical transferences are much harder than mental ones.”

Applejack’s voice was hushed. “What did you do to us?”

“Something sure feels different,” Rainbow Dash said. “Like something’s missing.”

Applejack turned to look at her and flinched back in horror. “Yer wings! Sweet lady Sky Skimmer, what happened to yer wings!?”

Rainbow Dash looked back at herself in shock. Her wings were gone. When she looked at Applejack, the intensity of her shock increased. “I think I’m lookin’ at ’em right now!”

Applejack looked back at herself and saw a pair of orange, feathery wings attached to her back. She gasped as they unfurled out of reflex: they were more muscular than Dash’s, and the feathers were packed more thickly together.

“They’re real!” She stared at them as they flexed up and down. “I can really move ’em around and everything! I can even feel ’em moving... feel the wind moving through ’em!”

“Is it just me, or do they seem bigger?” Dash said. “They’re not bigger than mine, are they?”

“This is amazing!” Applejack flexed them down and lifted off the ground for just a moment. “Does it feel like this all the time?”

Rainbow Dash managed a faint smile. “Wanna take ’em for a spin?”

“Really? That’d be—” Applejack looked at her with a nervous smile, like a child about to climb into a rollercoaster for the first time. The smile vanished, and Applejack glared at Twilight. “No. This is wrong. You’d better find a way to change us back right now!”

“There’s a code word,” Twilight said. “If either of you says the word, the spell ends.”

Applejack frowned at her. “That’s all? It’s just that easy-peasy?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Please, A.J. I’m the princess’s personal pupil. I’d never cast a spell without being able to reverse it.”

“Oh. Well, good. That’s good.” Applejack scratched at the ground. “You’d best tell us the codeword, then.”

“No-no-no, wait!” Dash said. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Aren’t you even a little bit curious about what it’s like to fly?”

“Much obliged,” Applejack said, “but I’ve gone my whole life without wings and I’ll be perfectly happy to keep it that way. I like to keep my hooves on solid ground.”

“Aww.” Dash looked downcast for a moment, then smiled. “There’s one thing we have to do first!”

“Just one thing?” said Applejack. “This better be important. What do you have in mind?”

Rainbow Dash’s grin widened. “The ultimate prank, for the queen of pranks!”

“What!?” Applejack said. “Don’t be such a foal! This is a very serious—”

Rainbow Dash rushed to her side and whispered in her ear. Applejack’s eyes widened and one of her ears flipped up.

“Fine, then. Just this once.” Applejack pointed at Twilight. “But you go back to the library this instant: we’ll visit you later.”

“Okay, fine.”

“And no more magic shenanigans!”

Twilight grumbled as she packed up her magical goods.

Rarity looked up from her sewing desk as the front door to her boutique opened. “Whoever it is, yes we’re open. We just had the door fixed and haven’t gotten a new ‘open’ sign for it yet.”

Fluttershy peeked inside. “Rarity? Are you busy?”

Rarity smiled at her. “I’m never too busy for a friend! Come in, come in.”

Pinkie Pie got up from her chair and bounced over to her. “Did you get a message too? Is that why you’re here?”

“Message?” Fluttershy said. “Was I supposed to get one? I’m so very sorry!”

“You didn’t?” Rarity said. “I just assumed. Rainbow Dash sent Pinkie Pie and I a message, asking to meet with us here. She didn’t mention why but it sounded rather important.”

“Oh my,” Fluttershy said. “You don’t think she’s in some sort of trouble, do you?”

“Why would she send a message for that?” Pinkie Pie said. “If she was in trouble, wouldn’t she just tell us about it? Why get us all together?”

Fluttershy’s eyes widened. “But what if it’s big trouble? What if it’s so big, she needs all of us to help? What if she was too embarrassed to tell us, face to face?”

“Oh please,” Rarity said with a gentle smile. “I’m sure it’s—”

The door swept open and all three of them gasped. Rainbow Dash staggered in and collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Her eyes were puffy and her face was streaked with tears.

Rarity rushed to her side. “My stars, girl! What’s happened to—your wings!?” She recoiled in horror.

Rainbow Dash looked up at her, sniffling. “They’re g-g-gone!”

Fluttershy’s eyes rolled up and she fell to the floor with a thump.

“Gone!?” Pinkie Pie said. “What do you mean they’re gone!?”

“I mean they’re gone! I’ll never join the Wonderbolts now!”

Pinkie Pie managed half-hearted smile. “I-it’s not that bad, Dash! Really! You just gotta look on the bright side!”

“What bright side? I ain’t seein’ it! I can’t work as a weather pony, and I can’t even live in my cloud-home anymore. I’m homeless!” She rolled onto her back and wiggled her shoulders against the floor. Her sobbing stopped. “Although this feels pretty good, I gotta admit. I’ve had an itch on my back for days.”

“There you go!” said Pinkie Pie. “Think positive! Now you can... scratch your back? That’s good, right?”

Dash’s sobbing resumed in full force. “But at what price? I’ve lost my house, my job, my foal-hood dream... my whole life! I’m nothing without my wings!”

Rarity stamped a hoof on the floor. “Now you listen here, Rainbow Dash! You are most certainly not nothing! You have so much more to be proud of!”

“I do? Seriously?”

“Of course!” Rarity said. “Why, just think of everything you’ve accomplished as the element of loyalty! You helped defeat Nightmare Moon and Discord, all without your wings!”

“Yeah, yeah!” said Pinkie Pie. “And remember when you and Applejack did the running of the leaves? You’re a really good athlete, even without your wings!”

Rainbow Dash’s ears perked up. “I am?”

“Sure you are!” said Pinkie Pie. “And you’re really brave, too!”

“And strong!” said Rarity.

Dash nodded. “That’s pretty cool, I guess. What else?”

“And pretty!” said Pinkie Pie.

Rainbow Dash frowned at her. “Pretty?”

“Handsome, maybe?” Pinkie pie bit her lip. “That doesn’t sound right either.”

“Attractive!” Rarity said. “She means attractive!”

“And stylish!”

“Statuesque!”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “Cool, cool. What else?”

Pinkie Pie looked at Rarity, helplessly. “Uh... well-proportioned?”

“Yes, exactly! You have excellent equine conformation!” Rarity crouched next to Dash and set a hoof on her shoulder. “I know the pain must be fresh, but can you tell us how you lost your wings?”

“I just lost ’em,” said Dash. “What else matters?”

“Was there a horrible accident, or something?” Pinkie Pie said.

Dash shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe.”

“Maybe!?” Pinkie Pie said. “How could you not remember something like that?”

“Quiet, you!” Rarity said, “it must have been so horrible, she suffered amnesia.”

Dash nodded. “Yeah, it was probably that.”

Rarity gave Dash a caring look and spoke softly. “I know it must have hurt, but you need to remember as much as you can. Think back. what’s the last thing you remember?”

Rainbow Dash pursed her lips in a calm, rational manner. “Okay. I was taking a shower, and then I went into the kitchen to make a sandwich. I must have lost them sometime in between.”

“W-what?” Rarity said.

Pinkie Pie pushed her aside and grabbed Dash’s head. “Don’t let it get you down, Dashie! The most important thing is not to get depressed!”

“How am I supposed to do that? I’ll never fly again!”

“I know just the thing to keep your spirits up!” Pinkie Pie said with a tentative smile. “We’ll throw you a party! It’ll be a ‘you lost your wings and you’ll never fly again or join the Wonderbolts, but your friends still love you very much’ party!”

Dash rolled onto her back and resumed her heart-wrenching bawling.

“No, wait!” Pinkie Pie said. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

Rarity frowned at her. “How could you be so insensitive!?”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes glistened. “B-but we gotta do something! What else can we do?”

Rarity opened her mouth, but hesitated.

“I don’t know. But we’ll think of something.” Rarity looked at Dash. “We will find a way to fix this. I swear on the name of Princess Celestia herself, you will fly again!”

Rainbow Dash looked up, smiling through the tears. “Thanks, girls! You’re spiffy!”

“All right,” Rarity said, “First, we need to—”

“Hey, y’all!” said Applejack as she glided through the front door. “Is Dash hereabouts? Ah been lookin’ all over for her.”

Pinkie Pie and Rarity turned to Applejack and froze as they saw her fly into the boutique. Applejack dropped to the floor and folded her wings back.

“Oh, right!” Rainbow Dash stopped crying and stood up. “That’s where they were!”

Applejack nodded. “Thanks for letting me borrow them for the day. I just had to visit the next village over, real quick like.”

Rarity and Pinkie Pie stared at them both. “...Borrowed!?”

“Yeah,” Applejack said, “there was a farmer’s market I wanted to visit but I couldn’t get there in time. Not on my hooves, anyhow.”

Rainbow Dash slapped her own forehead. “I completely forgot about that. And I thought I left them behind the couch or something!”

Applejack nodded to Rarity. “Can we use one of your change rooms for a minute?”

Rarity pointed at one of the backrooms, slack jawed.

“Cool. This’ll only take a second.”

Rainbow Dash and Applejack went into the change room and emerged a moment later with their usual body structures. They walked back to Applejack and Pinkie Pie, smiling cheerfully.

Pinkie Pie stared at them. “You—but—how!?”

Rainbow Dash and Applejack both grinned. “Gotcha!” they said.

“You mean this was all a prank?” Rarity said. “That wasn’t funny. Not in the least little bit!”

Pinkie Pie fell to the floor and kicked her legs in the air, struggling to talk through the laughter. “That was great!”

Applejack pointed at rainbow Dash. “Her idea.”

Fluttershy slowly stood up, her lower lip quivering. “D-D-Dash?”

“Oh-mi-gosh!” Rainbow Dash rushed over and gave Fluttershy a warm hug. “I’m so sorry! It was just a prank for Pinkie Pie. I never meant to scare you, honest!”

“You gave away your wings for a prank?” said Fluttershy. “How is that even possible?”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Rarity said.

“Oh that,” Dash said, “Twilight used her magic on us, and we decided to use it for a prank.”

“You decided,” said Applejack. “I grudgingly acquiesced.”

“A magic spell?” said Fluttershy. “Was Twilight testing a spell on you?”

“I guess it was a test,” Applejack said, “but it turned out okay in the end.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash said. “That’s what matters, right?”

Rarity sighed. “I suppose it didn’t do any harm.”

“And it was a pretty good prank, wasn’t it?” Pinkie Pie said.

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash said. “So no harm. Right?”

Fluttershy glared at them fiercely, her jaws clenched tight.

Fluttershy marched down main street. Her hoofbeats shook the ground slightly, and the crowd parted quickly as she approached. He eyes burned like the sky-blue fire of an acetylene torch. Her friends ran—or flew—to keep up with her.

“Flutter?” Applejack said, “it wasn’t that big of a problem, you know. There’s no need to get all bent outta shape about it.”

“Yeah!” Rainbow Dash said. “It was just a prank. That’s all. No harm done, right?”

“That prank was never meant for you,” Rarity said. “They never meant to scare you at all. It was just an accident.”

“Yeah!” Dash said. “I wasn’t even crying for real. I rubbed an onion on my face, that’s all!”

“An onion?” Pinkie Pie said. “Wow. Talk about suffering for your art.”

“Look,” Rarity said, “I know this wasn’t a particularly good thing that Twilight’s done. I agree with you there. But the point is, there’s no reason to blow this out of proportion.”

“Yeah,” Dash said, “there’s no need to stress out over this, right?”

All four of them looked at Fluttershy. She continued to march along, wearing the same fierce glare. They came to the front door of the library and Fluttershy knocked three times, firm and loud.

“Closed,” Spike called from inside, “come back later. Maybe.”

“Not later, and not maybe! We’re talking now!” Fluttershy said. She took a deep breath and reared up. She brought her hooves down on the door and gently pushed it open. “If it’s not too terribly inconvenient for you! And if it is inconvenient, then I’m terribly sorry but we need to talk anyways!”

“Whoa,” Spike said. He hopped down from the front desk and limped over to her. “I didn’t know it was you guys. What do you need?”

“You’re limping!” Rarity said. “Is something wrong? Does it hurt?”

“Just been a busy week is all.” Spike stretched his back and winced in pain. “I don’t remember the last time I got a full night’s rest. I’ll be fine.”

“You poor thing!” Rarity crouched down and checked him over for injuries. “You should know better than to overwork yourself!”

“Jeez, I’ll be fine! I’ve had worse, you know.”

Fluttershy frowned at him. “I need to talk to Twilight Sparkle. Now.”

Spike gave a frustrated shrug. “Could you be more specific?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder: The main hall of the library was once again packed with magical equipment, whirring and beeping and blinking. Twilight Sparkle was typing into a teleprompter, while Twilight Sparkle busied herself with a chemistry set. Twilight Sparkle, meanwhile, was inscribing a series of glowing runes onto a scroll. She passed the finished scroll to Twilight Sparkle, sitting behind her.

Fluttershy stared at the four unicorns. “T-T-Twilight?”

All four Twilight Sparkles looked up from their various projects. “Could you be more specific?” they all said.

“We need to—well, that is—” Fluttershy shuffled her hooves. “Can I talk to the real Twilight? Please?”

The Twilight with the scroll waved at her and walked over. “Me! That’s me. I’m the original Twilight Sparkle.”

Fluttershy pointed at the Twilight by the Chemistry set. “Then who—”

“Oh, her? She’s me too.”

“But aren’t you you?” Rainbow Dash said. “How can she be you too?”

“Ooh! ooh!” Pinkie Pie said. “I know! She’s you two, isn’t she?”

“Essentially,” Twilight said. “I cast a spell to create a duplicate of myself. We’re both me, but I was me first.”

Twilight Two waved at them. “I put a ribbon in my mane so ponies could tell the difference. It seemed like the courteous thing to do.”

Fluttershy pointed at one of the other Twilights as she walked past. “And what about—”

“Time travel,” the Twilight said in a bored tone of voice. “I’m from the future. I’ve done it before, but this was a permanent version of the spell: it won’t simply end on its own. Much more difficult.”

“Yeah, that was the worst,” said Original Twilight. “She showed up out of nowhere and now I have to invent a permanent time travel spell even though I know it won’t work.”

“You have to?” Rainbow Dash said. “Why?”

“If we don’t—” Both Twilights said at once. They stopped and glanced at each other.

“If we don’t—” Both Twilights said at once. They glanced at each other again, with a longer pause.

“I can’t believe I had to go through that again,” Future Twilight said with a sigh.

Original Twilight turned back to her friends. “If we don’t send me back in time, she won’t arrive in the past, and we’ll have no reason to send me back in time and she won’t arrive in the past.”

“But if you don’t go back,” Fluttershy said, “then none of this will happen. So why bother?”

“Duh,” said Original Twilight, “because it’s already happened. Twice, in fact: once to me, and once to her. We’re trying to avoid a causality paradox.”

One of the other Twilights looked up from her Teleprompter. “What about me? Did you tell them about me?”

“Nopony cares,” the other Twilights all said together.

“W-w-wait a second!” Fluttershy said. “Of course we care! She’s Twilight too, isn’t she?”

One of the other Twilights frowned at her. “Aren’t I Twilight Two?”

“Yes you are,” the other Twilight said. “I’m just a symbolic manifestation of the original Twilight. She made an enchanted mirror and transformed her reflection into a near-perfect facsimile of herself. But I’m not really real, or anything. I’m just an ontological figment.”

She turned to one side and showed them her cutie mark. It was hard to tell if the mark itself was a mirror image, but it was on the wrong side.

Fluttershy swallowed a lump in her throat. “Twilight?”

“Yes?”

“Real Twilight!”

“Well actually, we’re all real. Each of us is a completely authentic Twilight Sparkle.”

“Except for me,” Mirror Twilight said. “I’m just a symbolic manifestation of—”

“Nopony cares!” The other Twilights said.

Everyone in the room flinched as Fluttershy let out a piercing squeal. She clenched her teeth and scrunched her eyes shut for a moment, then took a slow deep breath.

“Twilight Sparkle, I want you to stop this! No more magic!”

“But the time travel spell won’t end by itself!” Original Twilight said. “If we don’t send me back in time, the resulting causality paradox could—”

Fluttershy stamped a hoof. “Stop it or I’ll scream again! I’ll do it, I swear!”

Everypony else stared at her, stunned.

Fluttershy pointed at Twilight. “You four ought to be ashamed of yourselves! You promised me you’d put all of this worry behind you and stop doing magic. And just look at you!”

Mirror Twilight lifted a hoof. “Technically, I didn’t do any of this. I’m not real.”

“Zip it!” Fluttershy said. “You promised to tell Princess Celestia about everything and Instead, here you are making duplicates and time-travelling and who knows what else!”

“I was gonna tell the princess! Honest!” Original Twilight said. “Right after I—”

Fluttershy stamped her hoof again. She said nothing, but the look in her eyes was more than enough. All four Twilights lowered their heads.

Fluttershy pointed at the exit. “I’m going to go across the street to get a cucumber sandwich smothered with ranch dressing. And when I come back here, you’re going to have this library totally cleaned up, and there is going to be an open sign on the front door! Do I make myself clear, miss Sparkle?”

Original Twilight turned to Twilight Two, who responded with a single, slow nod.

“All right,” Original Twilight said, “But first we need to send me back in time so that she can come back from the future and help send me back in time.”

“Okay,” Fluttershy said. “But that’s all. And I’m going to be watching you the whole time.”

After half an hour all four Twilights stood in the center of the library, channeling their combined magical energies into a single spell. A nexus of blue electricity formed, growing larger by the second. The orb spread out into a ring-shaped portal that rippled the air around it. The other side of the portal led to a spinning black-and-white spiral, and all manner of clocks and calendars whirled around the inside of the vortex: ancient stone sundials, gold pocket-watches, and sand-filled hourglasses.

Original Twilight nodded to Twilight Two, adjusted her book bag one last time, and stepped into the portal. The magical force rippled against her skin like water. When her eyes passed through the portal, she saw the interior of the library: the architecture was in exactly the same place but her friends were nowhere to be seen. She emerged from the portal completely, and the moment she set her hooves on the floor she knew she was no longer Original Twilight. She had become Future Twilight.

Past Twilight looked up from her writing desk and stared in amazement as the glowing vortex closed itself off. “Not again!” she said. “What happened this time?”

“Permanent time travel spell,” Future Twilight said. “In half an hour, you’re going to send yourself back in time to test the failsafe spell.”

“Really?” said Past Twilight with a frown. “Then wha—”

“You’re not thinking of a number at all. You’re thinking of Molybdenum: the forty-second element in the periodic table of elements.”

“Whoa!” Past Twilight said. “You’re freakin’ me out here! What about—”

“The test didn’t work,” Future Twilight said. “Not even close. And you’ve got twenty-nine minutes and forty-seven seconds to get it done.”

“So I have to figure out a time travel spell, even though I know it won’t work?” Past Twilight said with a sigh. “This is the worst.”

“I know exactly how you feel,” Future Twilight said, “literally and figuratively. Fortunately, I brought a few things with me to save you some time and grief.”

Future Twilight opened up her book bag and took out several rolled up scrolls. Past Twilight opened them up and scanned the contents of each.

“You brought me spells from the future?”

“Indeed.”

“Then where did you get them from?”

“Future Twilight will give them to me when I was Past Twilight. And you will give them to Past Twilight after you became Future Twilight in the present.”

Past Twilight sighed and rolled up the scrolls. “We may need to invent a few new pronouns.”

Future Twilight shrugged. “I’ve brought you a duplication spell, a magic-mirror-maker spell, and a permanent time travel spell... and a little something extra.” Future Twilight tapped one scroll. “We know the other spells won’t help us test the failsafe, but this one just might.”

“Might?” Past Twilight said.

“I haven’t seen it in action yet.” She tapped the other scrolls. “It requires an enormous amount of magic, but if we use these other spells—”

Past Twilight grinned at her. “We can combine our power and cast it together!”

“Exactly,” Future Twilight said. “One thing, though: I never saw the spell go off, because Fluttershy and the others showed up just at the last minute. I’ll have to send you back in time to before we could try it out, and I’m sure Fluttershy will try to stop you as well. Just feed her some garbage about causality or paradox or something, and wait until she leaves.”

“You think she’ll fall for it?”

“She already has.”

“All right, but this better be worth it.” Past Twilight opened up the special mystery scroll and scanned the contents. Her eyes widened and her pupils shrank to tiny dots. She set the scroll aside, flabbergasted.

“We made this!?”

“Technically, no,” said Future Twilight. “It was never made. It’s forever being brought into the past from a future that could happen, but never will. But we could have made it.”

Past Twilight stared at her future self. “This is amazing. I can’t tell if it’s absolutely brilliant, or absolutely—”

“Crazy?” Future Twilight said.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Yeah. I can’t tell if it’s brilliant or crazy.”

Future Twilight tilted her head and offered a tiny, one-sided smirk. “Is there a difference?”

A grin crept over Past Twilight’s face. She let out a snicker, and Future Twilight grinned back. They began giggling together, louder and louder, even though both Twilights knew there wasn’t anything particularly funny about their situation. It was just one of those senseless, hilarious laughs that takes on a life of it’s own for no reason at all.

Past Twilight got her laughter under control and wiped a tear from her eye. “I know one way to find out!”

%i%: Fluttershy is the only pony who can save Equestria! We’re doomed.

13: Fluttershy is the only pony who can save Equestria! We’re doomed.