There was a slightly-built purple unicorn resting on one of the Boutique's guest couches.
Rarity always tried to make things comfortable for her clientele. Most dressing rooms were single-occupancy and had very little in the way of time limit (not that there was typically a line waiting to use the things, Tartarus chain it), but there were a few larger ones for those who wanted to show off in front of friends before parading themselves through the main floor of the shop, let alone Ponyville and beyond. She'd recently added a small assortment of snacks focusing on low-calorie items which wouldn't do a thing to even the most paranoid mare's figure and therefore seldom invoked more than a two-hour freakout upon first sight. And of course, there was the Background Scent Of The Week (lilac, at least for two more days), the flattering lighting everywhere throughout the shop and for those stallions who got stuck waiting around for hours, a current selection of hoofball magazines, carefully-placed directions to the nearest bar, and a cord running from the Boutique to the watering hole which would discreetly ring a bell when it was time for that stallion to scamper back and pretend he'd been patiently hanging on the whole time, presuming the male was still in any condition to hear it.
(Her one weak area was children. Rarity had tried to provide a toy dress shop with play sewing machines and discarded fabric samples which could be mauled in the hopes of keeping things relatively quiet. What she'd mostly learned was that tiny sewing machine tables very easily became extremely defensible forts -- and that said forts inevitably meant war. Also that many clients somehow managed to blame her for each and every battle. "Not my filly!" was the last line of defense for just about every parental scoundrel claiming no offspring of theirs could engage in violence -- while a single body length behind them, the filly wove silk into whip-thin rope and ran around snapping it at every rump in the Boutique. Inevitably, this included Rarity's, and no parent ever saw that happen even when looking directly at it.)
Of course, Twilight barely counted as clientele: the typical way to get her interested in wearing a new outfit was to -- well, Rarity had to face it: she generally had to gift the librarian with something new and then count on that nagging feeling of obligation to get Twilight out and about in public after donning the thing, with a maximum open display count of thrice. Twilight never walked into the Boutique to pick out something on her own unless the Princess was involved -- say, a meet-and-greet with the Day Court where Twilight would instantly (and neurotically) decide she had to be extra-presentable. Three hours in the spa, one spent going under makeup in such a vocal way as to make the observer believe the librarian had volunteered to have her face painted with acid, and up to a full day used in rummaging through every design Rarity had ever created in the hopes that somehow, the very next page in the sketchbook would contain the look which would make the Princess happy while in no way even remotely showing her up by so much as a billionth of a percent. And Twilight would measure to that billionth. Inaccurately. Followed by compulsively checking to see if Rarity had designed anything new in the last five seconds so she could measure that. It typically ended with one unicorn on her way to Canterlot while shaking with nerves and desperate prayer to not have somehow done something wrong and the other knocking on the Moon-lit spa door, wearily asking Lotus and Aloe to just kick her the keys and she could take it from there.
Twilight as a client could drive Rarity systematically -- as in 'Checklist For Steady Loss Of Sanity, Steps One Through Twelve Hundred And Forty-Seven, Follow In Exact Order Only' -- nuts. As a friend...
...as a friend, Rarity loved Twilight dearly and deeply. But oh dear, even when you factored out the missions and general randomized chaos which had seemed to follow the librarian into Ponyville, the obsessive-compulsive tendencies (not that the perfectionist rupophobe could really complain there) and absolute need to follow the rules plus some of the more damnable checklists -- there were simply times when having Twilight as a good friend could easily be an --
-- experience.
Fortunately, once you got her attention actually focused on something (which could be a chore in and of itself), Twilight was an excellent listener. Or at least, the words went in.
Strange things could happen to them after that.
"...and you may not believe this, darling, but he simply could not carry the topic away from the playoffs for so much as a moment! I tried to invoke anything else at all, and I was subtle -- but back we went, over and over again. Celebriponies? Dating or broken up with players on his chosen team and all the effects he felt that had on their scoring averages. Politics? Which retired ones had taken up careers. Myself? Well, surely I would be interested in attending a game, or had met some of his favorites in my travels, plus he was certainly willing to teach me how to play right then and there without ever so much as leaving the bar, we could pretend the larger tables were defenders... I keep the hoofball magazines about for the comfort of others, Twilight, not for myself! And because I am trying to be considerate and recognize that hours spent lounging around the Boutique are not to every stallion's taste -- or mare's, for that matter -- I am presumed to be a fan or at least a fan-in-waiting no matter what I should say or do in an attempt to prove the contrary. Truly, there are days when I simply do not understand why I continue to bother with Ponyville's so-called nightlife. I swear my chances of finding a very special somepony here are steadily becoming lower than the ones of having Luna and the Princess switch shifts."
Twilight frowned. She'd been in the shop for about an hour at that point. Spike had thrown her out of the library. Hard. As Rarity understood it, Twilight had decided to try out her fourth complete reorganization in something under a week and the little dragon had finally declared that if his big sister didn't leave the tomes in place for a full cycle of Sun and Moon, he was going to work on his flame until he found a way to mail her to Canterlot. Judging by the speed at which Twilight had come through the Boutique's doors and the slight odor of scorched ruby which had trailed in her wake, Rarity suspected he'd at least had a good go at sending her across town. "I never really understood the appeal of team sports myself. Individual exercise is at least a little practical and racing's kind of fun if you're beating the right ponies --" with her second Running Of The Leaves less than two weeks away, the librarian had actually been doing a little training in the hopes of getting fourth place "-- but tying part of your personal identity to somepony else's success doesn't make any sense. Sure, you can get a boost out of it when they're doing well -- but every team falls."
Rarity sniffed. "Certainly the Las Pegasus Land Swoopers do. Every third season once their chosen draft picks finish demonstrating why they dropped into the fifth round to begin with. Of all the teams he could have supported..." All right, so she'd paged through the magazines a few times when she needed to distract her mind from the seemingly impossible complexity of a new design or was just having an especially slow sales day, much like the current one. Was that such a crime? "Honestly, Twilight, it was one of the dreariest hours of my life. And there was simply no getting away from the topic or the stallion. He was determined, but it was such a polite determination. And he was completely immune to all excuses. I have to get home? He would have followed. I feel ill? Escort me to the doctor. And so on down his eternal and very permeable offensive line -- oh, yes, and since not a single line of his own was overtly offensive other than in his choice of squads to be loyal towards, I could not brush him off with a devastating rejoinder. You cannot imagine the torture."
"I went with you to that lecture given by Thread Moresby," Twilight dryly responded. "The. Whole. Thing."
Rarity winced. "Oh. Yes. All right, I suppose you rather can. I swear, I did not realize he intended to turn two hours on what was supposed to be design inspirations found in the wild zones into a endless dissertation on how he met his spouse. Well, now we know why the tickets were so cheap..." They both paused for a moment, mutually wondering if the stallion had, after they'd finally snuck out, continued his story to an empty hall. They'd never gotten the mare's actual name, and weren't sure anypony ever had. "But you understand, Twilight -- within the first three minutes, I knew that stallion would be no part of my life beyond the casual friendly greeting given to one you intend to keep on that level. I find that for most of my encounters at the bar, three minutes is all it takes. The same even applies in more formal settings and on actual dates. A mere three minutes and I am typically fully aware of whether it will be possible to continue at all -- and yet, unless something happens where I have cause for dismissing my evening's companion, three hours will often be my time commitment -- or more. It is a waste. I find such a pointless discard of time to be almost painful. I'm sure you of all ponies will understand why."
Twilight's eyes were fully open. They seemed to be slightly wider than usual. Yes, she was listening. The words were going in and fully registering on the other end. And if Rarity had been paying a little more conscious attention to the dawning excitement within the pupils instead of scavenging her storage drawers for a few lost pins, that would have been the point when the worries began.
"Three minutes?" the librarian breathed. "Just three minutes?"
"No more," Rarity confirmed. Now where was that pesky pearl-headed one she'd found at the stable sale last moon...? Probably serving as a very poor choice of universal non-joint on a Crusader contraption doomed to crash into her laundry line, that's where. (She was right about that, but the actual melding of cloth and mud wouldn't hit for another five days.) "And before you ask, with Blueblood, I was rather hoping at first that it was an act designed to discourage jeweldiggers and yes, I am aware of the irony, thank you. Then I had some faint hopes for a command performance..."
Twilight's mind probably logged that last part, but the file was immediately sent into a holding area. Important work was in progress and mere side topics would have no say in the finished product. "Three minutes..."
"Well, it's hardly a universal figure," Rarity noted. Oh, and the silver measuring tape was missing too. No doubt Sweetie Belle and the other two were very nearly finished figuring out how to make it explode. (Two weeks, three days.) "Some ponies are more complex and it takes considerably more time to truly uncover their hidden depths, but generally, even a sense of that comes --"
There was the sound of pounding hooves, followed by doors slamming and the ploink! of re-extending couch springs.
"-- Twilight?"
And no more of the librarian did Rarity see for the rest of the day.
Unfortunately, Moon follows Sun. It generally insists on the matter.
Rarity was locking up the Boutique. It had not been one of her better sales days. There had been very few customers, and the majority of them had spoken the Death Words. Anypony who uttered the Death Words was, at the moment the syllables emerged, officially wasting Rarity's time and would continue to do so for a period ranging from one second to three hours. Over the course of Rarity's career, nopony who ever spoke both of the Death Words in the space of one or more utterances had ever purchased a single product.
The Death Words, to use them in a sample speech, were to declare that Rarity's latest creation was "So incredibly cute! I swear, that's just adorable!"
Rarity could hear bits shifting deeper into saddlebags when those words were spoken, never to emerge in her sights. To speak the Death Words was to remove oneself from the name of customer forever. If it was cute and adorable, it was unpurchased. Every time. There were no exceptions. And once, just once, Rarity had told the offending pony this, pointed to a chart she had meticulously kept for a full season with two exactingly-tracked columns on it. Number of ponies saying the Death Words. Number of those who had taken anything home with them. The second column had admittedly been easy to manage, as few numbers are simpler to track than zero.
The pony had protested. Insisted she simply wasn't like that. Been slightly on the offended side that anypony could see the use of two simple terms that way. And -- left without buying anything, never to return.
On the whole, still an improvement on those who insisted that upon pain of death, they simply didn't wish to carry a purchase with them and would thus tour the entire town three times before 'picking it up on the way out'. Rarity never saw any of those ponies again either, and counted it as a blessing. No doubt they would have sued her after the horrific weight of her creation inevitably led to a near-terminal muscle pull.
She sighed to herself as her field interacted with the final lock, setting the opening sequence to her personal signature. A long day indeed, one of those which made her question why she wanted to bother with any others. If only Twilight had stayed a bit longer, or any of her other friends had dropped by. At an hour before close, Rarity had nearly reached the point of being ready to try Pinkie's infamous Random Design Game, in which she was supposed to close her eyes, get spun around eight times, let her field dizzily probe for the first ten objects it could surround, and then find a way to use them all in the same dress. Pinkie had been trying to get her to play it for two years and Rarity never got past the pregame shudder. But today...
"Why do I bother?" she asked Opal.
The cat, looking down from Rarity's bedroom window, deigned not to answer.
"I'll be back later, Opal. Not too late, I promise. I simply feel the desire for a drink -- yes, Opal, just one drink, I am well aware of my tolerances and unfortunately, so are the last two ponies who carried me home after the fourth. It has been -- one of those days."
Opal swatted a paw at a passing fly.
"Yes, I do realize I should probably seek out friends instead of being rather morose company for the bottom of a crystal mug, but that is the point, Opal. I do not wish to bring anypony else down this evening. And there are few more foolish things than drinking at home by oneself when one is in less than perfect spirits. I will simply tell all prospective suitors that I have come for the drink and background noise alone, they should seek me at another time, and leave it at that. Additionally, should anypony be rather stupid with me this evening, it will provide me with a place to express my feelings about that last pre-closing stallion whose muscles could not bear the mass of a personalized pocket square. Opal dear, if I ever again show signs of believing that having a few small items around for waiting males to purchase would be of benefit, you may feel free to claw my mane twice."
The cat's attention was now fully engaged.
Rarity sighed. "Oh dear, would you listen to me... perhaps I am not even suitable company for a mug. Opal, I will be up in a minute --"
"-- Rarity!" The designer turned to see Twilight galloping towards her. Looking -- excited. Extremely so. Not a common state for the librarian, not unless she'd just sent a particularly lesson-filled letter off to the Princess, an equation-riddled one to the Equestrian Magic Society, had been given a chance to touch one of Star Swirl's actual bells, or had somehow found a way to make random wind gusts arrange their bangs-disturbing presence by appointment... "Rarity, hold up!"
Rarity waited. Well, it was a happy excitement, certainly: not the kind that came with evictions of full-sized dragons and parasprite invasions and Celestia's shoes, artificial wing refinements, no thank you dear, one plummet was quite enough. "Twilight? You left so abruptly..." Rather as if she'd come up with her fifth shelving system of the week and decided to risk a somewhat smaller dragon's wrath. "I'm certainly glad to see you, dear, but I must tell you: I do not know if I am truly suitable company tonight."
Twilight seemed to have missed all of it. "You're not doing anything this evening, right?"
It wasn't a good time for Rarity to be trying out Advanced Slumber Parties: When The Pillows Really Start To Fly either. "I had considered a drink, but I --"
"-- good! Then you've got to come with me, right now!" The librarian's field very gently tugged on Rarity's right foreleg. "This is important, Rarity! I think you might have just helped me create a breakthrough! This could revolutionize -- well, you'll see! Come on! You've got to see what I set up! And if it works, you can sign the paper with me, I'll make sure you get the credit..."
Rarity blinked. "I -- inspired you?" Certainly more than Rarity had done for herself all day.
"You have no idea!" A big smile accompanied another, slightly harder tug. Of course, given that this was Twilight, 'slightly harder' was enough to jerk Rarity's entire body forward. "Come on!"
Well, if she'd inspired her friend to -- something -- something which was clearly going to be shown instead of explained -- it hadn't been a wasted day. "Of course, dear. Is there anything I should bring, or --"
"-- just you!" Which was the point when Twilight got tired of tugging and simply levitated Rarity. "Let's go!"
And off they went, one unicorn galloping along while the other was carried in her field. "Twiliiiight...!"
She was finally released in front of the town hall. "Twilight..." Her own soft blue field began a subtly desperate reworking of her mane. "...I realize you're somewhat enthused about this, but I am a grown mare and am perfectly capable of trotting..."
Twilight wasn't listening. "You're going to love this, Rarity! Nopony's ever done anything like this, and I owe it all to you." Beaming, "And it's not just me. So many ponies are going to owe you their lives from this!"
False lashes met, parted. "...their lives? Twilight dear, I have no idea what I could have said to you..."
"I spent the whole day after I left the Boutique setting this up!" Twilight gushed. "The mayor let me have the center rotunda -- come on!"
This time, Rarity moved before Twilight's enthusiasm led to more pinkish-tinged impatience. "You do have me curious, certainly..." Headed towards the doors. "Owing me their lives, Twilight? I am looking over our discussion and I cannot imagine what words would have come from me to cause such a thing..."
She entered the rotunda.
There were forty-three other ponies waiting for her.
Or perhaps just -- waiting.
Rarity took it in. A number of small tables -- actually, a number which almost exactly matched the total number of ponies (and did match once she subtracted Twilight) -- had been brought in, clearly recruited from anywhere they could be spared for a few hours. Homes. Businesses. Luna's mane, that one was Fluttershy's small animal examination table, she could smell it from the doorway. Each table had one pony at it. Each table surface (wood, metal, three of molded vapor with confused-looking pegasi leaning against them) bore a clockwork timer, much like the ones Pinkie used to make certain some of the more delicate Sugarcube Corner offerings came out of the ovens exactly on schedule. And every timer was set for three minutes.
There was also a pile of index cards next to each timer, along with numerous quills and jars of ink. Rarity tried to tell herself ice crystals weren't forming on the latter. It simply felt as if they should have been.
She took it all in. She wasn't sure she wanted it. What had she said...? "Twilight, I do think I may need the tiniest bit more explanation than you have thus far provided."
"It's a revolution!" Twilight happily declared. "You said you knew whether or not it was worth trying to have a relationship with a pony after just three minutes, Rarity! And if you felt that way, I thought other ponies might make their decision with the same speed! There are ponies out there wasting whole moons and more of their lives on date after date of just trying to find that one very special somepony -- okay, sometimes two or more, but we'll start with one for the trial runs -- when all they really need is three minutes! Or, the way I set this up, a whole bunch of three minutes!"
Yes, ice crystals should have been forming in a lot of places. For starters, Rarity was certain that there were now a few in her tail. "Twilight, I fear you may have rather missed --"
"-- so I got a whole bunch of ponies together who were willing to try -- okay, a lot of them owed me library fines and they said they were okay with paying it off by being my test subjects as long as I didn't use magic and some of them wanted to make sure the Crusaders were all home for the entire night -- and we're all going to prove your theory works!" The pinkish field nudged at Rarity's hindquarters. "Over there, that table is yours, the place of honor in the center so everypony can see the genius who changed the entire dating world..."
And then Rarity was somehow at that center table, with Twilight having climbed up to the rotunda's balcony so she could better oversee.
"Okay, everypony!" the librarian called down. "Here's how it's going to work. If you look at your table, you'll find a number on it next to a movement flowchart." Rarity instinctively did. Her number was #1, drawn with enthusiasm, a certain lack of elegance, and in an ink which was never going to come out. The flowchart rather looked as if a large number of bees had been attempting to give directions to honey in Iron Will's courtyard. "You'll be at your table half the time and going around to other ponies the other half. It's only fair. Every time you reach a new table, we'll start the timers. You'll have three minutes to meet the other pony. Talk about anything you like. Once the timer goes off, you'll have one more minute to fill out a comment card on the pony you just spoke to. When writing about them, use the pony's number only, please: this is an experiment. Including movement times, we should be able to get through this in under four hours. Once we're all done, I'll use Maredrox's Very Temporary Duplicator -- it only works on paper made from a single kind of tree and that for only two hours, it's really annoying, I've been working on it for three moons and it simply won't budge -- and everypony will get to read every comment made about them. Then you decide which pony you made the best connection with and make a date with them! It couldn't be any simpler! And you all have Rarity to thank for it!"
Twilight beamed down at her. Rarity just barely felt it through the weight of the stares impacting her from around the rotunda. The invisible ice crystals forming around her hooves didn't help either.
"Of course, once we manage to hammer out a more comprehensive statistical system, I should be able to make that final decision for you every time," Twilight offhoofedly mentioned. "But for now, I have to leave it partially with the subjects instead of fully with science. Not exactly the most ideal situation, but -- you know, trial run, got to make sure the tracks are leveled out before sending the big train down it."
There were probably a number of ponies trying to second-guess this. Several whom Twilight had approached might have managed to excuse their way out of it. Others undoubtedly had that lingering 'This is the Princess' personal student' caution coloring their decision. A number might not have been able to get away in time. A few simply must have had library fines accumulated into the realm of calculus.
And then there was Rarity. Whose friend was still beaming down at her, face lit like the Sun.
"All right, everypony -- on the count of three -- date!"
The first group of bees began their quest to become thoroughly lost.
In retrospect, it started badly enough. Twilight had worked out the schedules to make sure everypony got their three minutes with every other pony in the rotunda. She had done it without regards for potential physical attraction, previous knowledge of the other pony, any relationships which might have already been present, dates which had ended in such a way as to require three days of cleanup and a two-week gossip circuit trying to figure out exactly who had kicked the first vase, or anything else which was a part of pony social life. Undoubtedly she'd felt it would all come through on the cards.
She had also acted without regards to sexual orientation. Everypony got three minutes -- which meant stallions who didn't like other stallions that way just got to sit and stare at each other in open discomfort, the same for mares who simply didn't see stallions in such a fashion plus there were mares whose only perception of other mares was 'rival!' and the attack-on-sight which came with it... Twilight's understanding of such things was -- dubious, sometimes even threatening to fall off that fragile status and impact firmly at the bottom of the nigh-inescapable pit known as "I never thought about that -- is there a book?" Rarity and the other Element-Bearers lived in faint dread of that last result, but there were things Twilight had to understand -- they hoped.
Still, Rarity was fairly certain there was a space on the card for that as well, or at least a 'please fill in your own impression here' blank.
Her own first meeting was with a stallion whom she'd seen around town a few times, but never been introduced to -- one of the many arrivals who'd seemed to follow Twilight in from some faint level of hope that Ponyville might become a rather distant Canterlot suburb. An earth pony, about her own age, orange coat about three shades lighter than Applejack -- orange creme, now that she thought about it -- light red mane and pleasant mint-green eyes. He'd bothered to put on a basic collar for this and thus had one up on Rarity, who had been provided with no time to dress for the occasion (whatever this occasion was) and was slightly annoyed about it. Still, she appreciated his effort.
He was even wearing saddlebags in a very fashionable style. And he wasn't unattractive at all.
"Mouser," he introduced himself, nodded back towards his flank and the mark displaying a rather cunningly-made live trap. "I just moved here two moons ago. I know you, of course -- honestly, I've been working up the courage to go into the Boutique for weeks."
Rarity, much to her own surprise, found herself smiling. "Is that so, Mr. Mouser?"
"Very much," he assured her. "Please don't think I've been stalking you -- I've just passed your shop a few times when you were opening up and it was always so nice just to see your face peek out. And there's always the worry that at best, I'd just be getting in a very long line of those hoping for your favor... well, you might as well know now, given how little time we have: I've always found unicorns exciting. Especially the beautiful ones. And -- a little scary, too."
Rarity decided a ladylike giggle was appropriate at that juncture. "Scary? Whatever could you see in me which would be the least bit fearful?"
"Magic," he replied with a smile, nodding to her horn. "It can be a little overwhelming for earth ponies dating unicorns for the first time, just watching the daily casual use of it."
"I suppose I can see that," she mused, deciding to pay him a compliment. "The same way we have trouble adjusting to your strength -- and you certainly do seem strong, sir."
His smile got a little wider. "Thank you... but muscles only do a few things, and magic does so much. I have dated unicorns before -- only two before I moved here, one short-term, one long and she had to go to college... and I always had to reach an accommodation with them regarding their castings."
Rarity had no idea what that meant and didn't have the time she would normally have used for subtly narrowing it down. "How so? You certainly don't seem like one who would ask a unicorn to hold back their natural talents."
"Well -- not for everyday things," he insisted. "Magic in the natural flow of life is beautiful, especially with the color of your field."
Rarity smiled. A portion of it remained sincere. "I still feel somewhat lost, Mr. Mouser."
He turned his head back towards his saddlebags, delicately flipped the right one open with his teeth, rummaged.
"This," he told her, and set the item on the table.
Rarity looked.
It was woven from metal and semiprecious stones. It was conical. It was exactly the right size and width to fit over a standard horn. It came with straps and buckles and a place to engrave the recipient's name.
It was a restraint. Professional hoofball-penalty level (although rather differently decorated), like the one Penalty Yards had been wearing for all of that last fourth quarter. Not exactly one of the models used by law enforcement -- but close enough. Any unicorn with one of these clamped onto their horn would be unable to exert their field until it was removed.
"You know," he casually continued as Rarity stared in horror at the thing, "magic can be a little -- scary in the bedroom. Especially with unicorns who -- well, lose a little control and -- I guess I like my bed on the floor, thanks. So I always had to reach an accommodation with my marefriends about just how things would work when we had private time. This was always my first gift to them. The two who took it... well, if my last hadn't gone to college... but this is a new town, and a new start..."
She was still looking at it. She wanted to look away so very badly. It didn't seem to be helping.
"Keep it," he told her. "Think about it -- and me."
The timer went off at the exact moment Rarity realized he'd already engraved her name on it.
The third was Flitter.
"Yeah, don't even bother," she grumbled, plopping down. "Let's just count it off and move on, okay?"
"Why?" Rarity asked in lingering confusion. "I haven't had much of a chance to meet you, Flitter -- we could at least use the time for that." She was also slightly disgruntled: whether the pegasus had any attraction to her or not, shouldn't she be worth three minutes to just about everypony? "I can start by telling you that you've been an inspiration to me. Last moon, I saw you adjusting your bow and -- well, the dress isn't quite finished, but I think if you saw it, you would easily see where I found the theme and colors --"
"-- let it go, grandma."
There was a feeling on the right side of Rarity's face. It was somewhere in the vicinity of her eye and had a vague pinching quality to it. "Your pardon?"
"I don't need any pardon," the pegasus openly grumped. "I don't date old, okay? You practically have dust in your coat to go with that old-pony smell which you'll get in another four moons, tops. I'm sure you're fine for anypony who's into fossils, but I'm not. Deal with it."
There it was again. "You are familiar with Pinkie Pie, yes?" Her own voice had the quality of a pulled stitch.
"Yeah. She threw me a sort of decent party when I moved here. Kind of a nice pony. Too bouncy. Ate a third of the cake. So what?"
"She is very good with birthdays." And just about everything else the baker heard, casually sorted into place within a memory not even Twilight could match. "Now that you have obliquely referenced mine, I seem to remember her mentioning yours. If my recollection has not been too clouded by my advancing years, the date would put me at seventeen moons older than you."
"So what? Old is old. Your generation should just realize that and move on."
The pulled thread was beginning to fray. "Seventeen moons is not a generation."
Anger for anger, only much less controlled. "It is in music. And fashion, if you'd just realize that in your senility. And especially quaraxing."
"...what? What is --"
"-- see? You're so old, you're not even into quaraxing! No, I take that back -- that's not old, that's dead!"
Just a little too softly, "Deceased, am I?"
"You've booked passage for a permanent vacation in the shadowlands! You've designed your own funeral shroud! You've closed the shop and had your dumb flunked vet friend teach her birds a dirge! You are an ex-pony!"
Rarity felt an odd calm beginning to very temporarily descend over her. "Do you know where the term 'whippersnapper' came from?"
"No! Why? Is it as dead as you?"
"Not quite. I'll demonstrate. First, I'm going to need a whip. And I believe there's a pony here who would be only too happy to lend me one."
It went downhill from there.
Rarity honestly didn't pay much attention to the fourth.
"-- old! If it was ten years, I still wouldn't be old by any means, but I could understand her seeing something of a gap! But we are talking about a mere seventeen moons. Was Equestria destroyed and rebuilt while I wasn't looking? I somehow feel I would have noticed such an event, even anything subtle which only made ponies who were the merest seventeen moons my junior regard me as old...!"
By the eighth, she had begun to realize how truly irritating the timer buzzer was.
The tenth one was Lyra.
"Bon-Bon lost the book and hasn't admitted it yet," she told Rarity as she was still taking her seat, awkward position and all. "I thought this would at least reset the fines, and I'd rather buy some search time than tell Twilight somepony lost a book." There was a not entirely theatrical shudder. "How are you holding up so far?"
"I am," Rarity sighed. "And no more than that. I know Twilight means well --" Luna's tail, the librarian was still beaming "-- but that's it entirely, isn't it? She means well. It can make it hard to tell her when she's making a mistake, and harder for her to hear it. There have been times when I have considered arranging a blind date for her simply so she would have some experience of these things. She's very skittish for those who approach her, you know that..." Too many bad school experiences, far too many ponies who'd seen Twilight as, in her friend's words, the key in the door to unlock the palace. "So perhaps doing the scouting on her behalf would be best. And even so... I have been on blind dates arranged for me by those I considered friends, and -- well, here I am, Lyra. Twilight's luck might be better than mine and I certainly think I could choose better than some who have picked for me, but..."
"But it's still going to take one amazing pony," Lyra concluded. "If I was still single... actually, if I was still single, there is no way I would have gone for Twilight. It's nothing personal against her appearance or personality -- there's just a time for play and a time for book reshelving, and I'm not sure she's ever put them in separate categories. Not that you're any prize there, Miss I Know We're On A Date, But I Just Had An Idea And Must Get It Down Immediately, Thank You..."
Rarity managed a giggle. "This I get from one who ran out on her first-ever date because the splashing of the fountain gave her an inspiration for a bridge movement in the composition and she simply had to express it through an instrument before any portion was lost."
"I never said I was any better," Lyra grinned. "I'm just very well-equipped to recognize the problem. This wasn't really your idea, was it?"
"No -- simply a casual remark which Twilight took for inspiration. You've been speaking to other ponies -- are any blaming me?"
"Well..." The musician scraped a hoof along the floor.
"Lyra -- please?"
"You said the other day that you've been having a slow period at the Boutique?"
"Yes."
"I think it's about to become a little slower."
Stile was fifteenth.
Oh, yes. Stile. Rarity knew the short -- very short -- extra-short -- Sweetie Belle could look down on him-short -- stallion on sight. Everypony did, presuming they were actually looking that far below. He was generally in a somewhat ongoing -- well, on-again, off-again relationship with Allie Way, apparently stuck for the moment in an Off position, presumably because the professional bowler had either been on tour far too long again or he didn't need anypony to reach something for him just now --
-- no, that was cruel, and Rarity made an immediate silent apology for having had the thought. Stile was known to be a very nice pony, in fact an absolute gentlepony of the first stripe, and the combination of his height and having the little -- did she have to think 'little' just then? -- pasture bridge on his flank made him too easy a target for a certain couthless breed of pony. He could hardly help his size or the fact that his special talent was for construction -- not just any construction, but the special touches which made lives easier for the two-thirds of Equestria which could not use fields to supplement mouths and hooves. Thus the little bridge, signifying the ability to reach a place otherwise blocked from access. And frankly, Allie was a little flighty at best, stressed out over the rolling of a ball and all of the breakoffs were her fault. Stile was no doubt just waiting for her to calm down enough for the inevitable return and passing an evening. Or there might have been a breathtaking fine involved somewhere.
He seemed to be smiling at her. She could just barely make part of it out below the lip of the table.
Rarity desperately searched her head for something to say.
"Stile," she began, "I've always felt you were cute -- and rather adorable..."
Most of the comment minute wound up being used for scraping off her tongue.
The seventeenth slowly settled into position. The dominant aspect to his posture had him staring at the floor. He was occupying rather a lot of it.
Rarity sighed. "Oh, dear... Snowflake, you haven't had even the faintest fraction of a good time tonight, have you?"
"Yeah..."
"I got a glimpse of you when you were leaving Flitter. I apologize if this brings back bad thoughts, but -- she seemed to have been mocking you in the certain knowledge that you would never do anything to retaliate."
A tiny nod. "Yeah."
"Oh, Snowflake... I know you would never hurt anypony, but you have to learn to bite back verbally if nothing else, especially with those who will not let you simply walk away. A well-placed sentence can do so much."
"...yeah?"
"Now that I come to think of it -- I recall your party... tell me, do I have your birthdate correct?" She gave him her best memory of it.
"Yeah."
"Good. Now, when you go back to your own table, I am certain you will pass hers. Simply glance over at her and tell her -- and trust me, she will hate this -- that it is your policy to never do so much as glance at an older mare. Can you do that?"
"YEAH!"
The twenty-third came at a bad time. Namely, several hours after she'd originally met him and about a minute into his very practiced, extremely grandiose, and probably repeated on twenty-two previous meetings speech.
"No, I do not believe so," Rarity finally cut him off. "You will not be sweeping me off my hooves. For starters, you would throw your back out, your legs would break, your hips might shatter and if we're all very lucky, your heart might simply fly out of your throat and go to somepony who needs it more, presuming anypony would want it. I have never felt particularly bad about my own weight: I have a pleasant build for a mare. I am hardly so heavy as to be unsweepable. Except by you. A stallion who wishes me to believe he is so weak that the weight of a monogrammed pocket square would break him as he tried to drag himself across town under the unbearable burden of its mass. Or perhaps one incapable of saying 'I do not wish to purchase this' as an honest pony would, followed by leaving my shop immediately with my having taken no offense whatsoever. It could even be both, but I simply do not care to find out. Do you think we all stay open extra hours for you hoping that you'll get back to us? Truly? Obviously your ego can lift far more than your legs..."
Number twenty-six.
"You seem strangely obsessed with tubs of jelly."
The twenty-ninth was Rainbow Dash.
"Do you know what you said to her?" the weather coordinator asked. There was no challenge in the voice. No strength. Her tail drooped, her ears were halfway back, and the prismatic mane seemed dulled at a hue loss rate of one-fifth Discord.
Rarity sighed. "I have isolated it, yes."
A weary nod. "Okay. So as long as I've got you here, let me ask you a couple of questions." Rarity waited. "First: do you personally know and can cast any spells which would instantly kill me?"
"Not a one."
Rainbow sadly sighed. "Horse apples. Okay. Do you know any spells which would instantly kill her?"
"I presume you're thinking there would be something which only works on unicorns?"
"Yeah. Purple ones. Female. With a pink stripe in her mane and about half a Canterlot accent."
"Right... no, I do not, Rainbow. Nor have I been able to invent one in the last several hours."
Another sigh. "Got it."
The silence took a third of their time all by itself and jotted a few things on the note card.
"Rarity? You know she's my friend, right? I care about her and don't want to see anything really bad happen to her, ever?"
"Yes, of course. I feel the same way."
"And I do know she's not always with it socially and just makes mistakes sometimes, even really basic ones?"
"Naturally. We all understand that, I'm sure."
Another silence, one slightly more verbose.
"Rarity?"
"Yes?"
"I am still so going to get her for this."
What Rarity mostly remembered about the thirty-second was nearly making a move to smash the timer into a thousand pieces.
By the thirty-fourth, they all had started to blend into each other. Rarity had found herself chewing on the quill as much as she'd been writing with it. She'd gone through several quills that way. Truly, it was amazing how quickly they wore out and snapped.
The pinching sensation seemed to have settled in for a permanent stay.
Rarity was hardly aware of the pony sitting across the table from her. She was rather more in tune with the scent, as she'd reached Fluttershy's loaner at long last. At least the animal caretaker had managed to escape this experience. Rarity was sure the yellow pegasus would have entrenched herself in a corner long before this point in the seemingly endless night. Or made a break for the door. A window. Perhaps even going for the last probable defensive measure in the arsenal and willed herself into a coma.
The pony across the table might as well have been a shadow. She was rather more in tune with the ponies surrounding her. The ones who muttered darkly whenever they passed her station. Those who had long-since decided that the late fees could rise to a thousand bits per minute and they'd rather pay it than risk this again.
She hadn't seen ponies smiling at each other for some time now. There didn't seem to be any connections blossoming in the rotunda, other than the group one formed by the shared trauma -- something which was doing its best to exclude her as the perceived source.
Every date -- every normal one -- was a source of stress. Rarity knew that stress well. Will I be found acceptable? Might I do something wrong? I am aware of every embarrassing faux pas there is, but that does not mean I am incapable of inventing a new one. And those were just her own behaviors, the things she could try to control. Meeting a stranger, or taking somepony familiar a little deeper into a relationship and taking a chance on discovering just how strange the seemingly-familiar could truly be -- stress, always. 'Casual date' was one of the biggest lies in the Equestrian language.
And here Twilight had, in the name of innovation, arranged for ponies to experience date stress in forty-three times the standard amount within a single nearly infinite evening. With all of it being blamed on Rarity.
"You seem distracted," the pony on the other side, whoever he -- she? Did it even matter any more? -- was, said. "What are you thinking about?"
She didn't have the strength left for anything except the truth. "My cat's door."
"You have a cat?"
"Yes..."
"So what about her door?"
"I wanted to be certain I left it unlocked. I know I did."
"And why is that so important to you right now?"
"Because when all these ponies leave here and go to burn my shop and home down, she'll be able to get out."
When the fortieth came, she was no longer even sure she was looking at a pony and so opened with the only words she knew in Griffonant, which were supposedly a combination of casual greeting to a prospective customer and a request not to drip any enemy blood on the floor.
Everypony was back at their starting table. The Very Temporary Duplicator had been used. Comment cards had been shuffled, distributed, and were now being read.
Twilight had kept the cards simple, realizing (if nothing else) that ponies would need to fill them completely within that bare minute. So there were four basic questions to rate on a zero through ten scale, plus a section to in fact write down your own impression.
How attractive did you find the other pony (or griffon), physically?
Intellectually? (Actually, that was the first question. It was Twilight, after all.)
Socially? (And that was the last.)
Magically? (Optional.)
Rarity's highest physical rating was a ten. Her lowest was a zero. Some very tired math found no pattern whatsoever and couldn't even try to isolate an average, median, or mean.
The intellectual and social ranks were also all over the place, but seemed to shift somewhat lower as the night had very, very slowly worn on like a mindless woodpecker trying to drill through rock.
Among the comments...
Standoffish.
Elitist.
Cruel.
Self-invented. She'd thought well of that one for a moment until she'd seen the further note on her accent.
Unthinking.
And of course, 'Deceased'.
The only sound in the rotunda was that of shuffling cards. Breathing seemed to have stopped. And the pinching sensation was now under both her eyes.
"All right, everypony!" Twilight happily called down from the balcony. "On the count of three, stand up and walk to the pony you felt you had the best connection with, and I'll compare it to the cards for study purposes! If multiple daters go to the same pony, we'll sort it out by numerical rankings. Remember, I have all the original cards here and can work it out for you, although I won't truly read them until after you move so I can stay fully neutral until the last possible second. Now if you head to somepony the cards say you shouldn't have -- well, that's why this is just the first stage in the experiment. We may have longer and more scientific comment cards when we try it again next week. Of course, by then, you'll be the control group and I'll need a new experimental one, so tell all your friends about this! I may also drop by your homes to ask a few follow-ups. You know, standard stuff. And maybe check in during your dates. Actually, make that last one a definite. Okay -- one -- two -- three!"
Forty-three ponies stood up.
Rarity stayed where she was, closed her eyes and counted to twenty.
And when the hoofsteps stopped, she was the only pony on the ground level of the rotunda.
The doors slammed shut with a very solid finality. Several overstressed timers took the vibration as a cue to go off one last time.
Rarity opened her eyes again. Cards were scattered all over the rotunda. They had been tossed away as ponies left. A few had been visibly chewed. Many more had been spat on. One unicorn with the proper talent had ripped them in half as a group, while another had skipped over that and settled for setting them on fire.
Twilight was staring down at her. Completely confused, with not even the faintest concept of what had just happened or why. Trying to work through it, find a scientific answer. And after a few seconds, she hit upon one.
"Rarity?"
The designer looked up at her and waited in silence.
"...were the cards too basic?"
Rarity had helped Twilight clean up. The cards which wouldn't dissolve back into air on their own had been thrown away -- at Rarity's insistence: Twilight had initially insisted on keeping them for further study, but Rarity had insisted harder and still suspected the librarian would be making a raid on the garbage can later. The fire had been put out with the scorch mark scrubbed away. Tables had been shuffled again and placed around the perimeter of the rotunda so their owners could either pick up them up early or wait on a delivery the next morning -- a morning which was now all too close. The unicorns were finally on their way out.
"I don't understand," Twilight plaintively said. "The concept was so good..."
Rarity tried not to sigh. Her eyes were finally starting to feel a little more normal: that had happened during the second hour of cleanup. And she still had no idea how to begin explaining things to her friend -- at least not without getting some sleep first. Regardless, she couldn't just leave Twilight completely hanging on the question. "Not all concepts hold true when they reach the experimental stage, Twilight -- that goes for my profession and your research alike."
They left the town hall, headed out under fading night, slowly moving towards rising Sun.
"I think I know what happened," Twilight said about a block later.
Rarity tilted her head slightly to look at the librarian more closely. "Oh?"
"Well, part of it is that dating is just -- stressful. I've seen that with you. And if that's even fractionally cumulative in a strict arithmetic sense, that was a lot of stress in one night. So -- maybe less ponies in a sitting."
It was a start. Forty-four to twenty was probably what was in Twilight's head. Rarity now had some faint hopes for getting that down to one. "Yes, I'm certain that was part of it."
"And the rest is that I didn't go into enough advance detail."
Very carefully, "Oh?"
Twilight nodded. "You all needed to know more about each other when this started instead of having it be a completely blind date. I was thinking, when we were moving the tables -- it's more than intellectual, magical, physical, and sometimes social compatibility. There's all sorts of facets to being attracted to another pony. Maybe even hundreds." With more excitement, "I could make -- a test. A really detailed test! Ponies could answer a thousand questions about themselves! I could create -- axes of compatibility! Ten, fifteen, twenty or more! And then --" the librarian was beginning to prance as she walked "-- I could -- oooh, this is just theory, but I'm sure it could be done -- I could get a picture of every pony involved and rank their scores along every axis, then magically tie the scores to their pictures and put them all in a really big book, so you could just stand in front of the book and say 'I am a seven on the Quaraxas axis' and the book would kind of sort all the pictures internally, then flip open to everypony who shared your score! And you could just keep narrowing it down from there until you had one pony on one page and you'd know all about them without the slightest bit of dating stress, and that would be the very special somepony of your dreams! It's perfect, Rarity! Total compatibility and connection without ever having to meet a pony until you find the perfect one! And all I have to do so it can work is invent the sorting spell, then give the quiz to every pony in Equestria!"
Words fled. They didn't want to be in the vicinity for what was coming next.
"Oh," Twilight added as an afterthought. "And somepony would have to take all the pictures. But other than that, it practically solves itself. I can't mobilize the ponypower for it all by myself, of course, but once I write the Princess..."
There was no immediate reply. Rarity simply looked very -- thoughtful.
"Rarity?" Twilight asked. "What do you think?"
"I -- believe -- well, perhaps I am not the best pony to ask about this after tonight, Twilight... or perhaps my opinion simply needs to be joined to that of another..."
Twilight missed the undertone in the too-calm words. "I understand -- you're a subject of the experiment, so in some ways, you're just too close to it. I still value your insight, though. You know I do." The designer nodded. "So Rarity, tell me honestly -- did you get anything out of tonight?"
"Well -- yes, in fact. I was given a rather interesting gift very early in the -- process."
"Somepony opened with a gift?" It was half a squeal. "How creative! Did that one bring enough for everypony?"
"I rather doubt it."
"So that pony was targeting you from the start! It has to be one of the ones where I mentioned you'd be there..." The excitement faded a little. "But -- you're not carrying anything."
"No. I gave it to Rainbow while she was at my table."
Twilight frowned, displayed one of the few social pieces of information she understood without letters needing to be written. "Regifting isn't always very nice to the original gifter, Rarity."
"I'm truly sorry you feel that way, Twilight."
"Why?"
Rarity swished her tail three times: left, left, up. "Because now she's going to give it to you."
There was a slightly-built purple unicorn hanging upside-down from the highest point on Ponyville's central fountain, clearly visible under rising Sun.
"Rarity? Rainbow Dash?"
She had a professional hoofball-grade restraint on her horn (with the engraving plate removed) and a loop of rope around her hooves.
"This isn't funny! Get me -- ugh! This water needs cleaning -- no, not in my face...!"
Somepony had tied her in such a way that she was pendulum-swaying back and forth under the fiercest spray.
"Come on! Please?"
Somepony should probably go get her down.
"...girls?"
Eventually.
