Chapter One:
The Mother of Invention
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a bit, Tia?”
The alicorn responsible for the sun paused eating her supper and looked up at her sister, eyebrow raised. She traced Luna’s gaze past her head and out through the large window, where the sun did indeed shine. The incandescent orb hung low in the evening sky and looked swollen, almost menacing. The light it cast also held a tremendous amount of heat, and the castle interior was sweltering.
Celestia smiled slightly and turned back to her sister. “It’s the month of midsummer, Lulu. Our little ponies are expecting it. Their crops will grow quickly, enabling them to harvest sooner and giving them enough time for another harvest before winter comes.”
Luna plodded disconsolately to the combined supper/breakfast table and sat down on a pile of cushions bearing her mark. “Well it makes sleeping nigh-impossible! This heat is very stifling, Tia. I toss and turn forever and my coat itches all the time!” She sulked at Celestia, who responded with a grimace that deepened as her little sister’s tone turned ever more whiny. When Luna fell silent Celestia cleared her throat and reset her face to a gentle neutral.
“Have you considered lightening the tone of your room? If you got rid of some of those... rich hues you use, for instance in your window drapes, they wouldn’t absorb so much heat.”
Luna’s glare attained shades of annoyance. “I like dark hues.”
“Perhaps if you experimented a—”
“I like dark hues.”
“How about opening the doors to your balcony while you sleep?”
“Last time I tried that I returned from Night Court to find a swarm of bats roosting in my bed’s canopy.” Luna shuddered. “You just can’t comprehend the stench I encountered upon opening the door to my room, Celestia. Not without experiencing it for yourself. The bedclothes were a complete loss.”
“Maybe if we used a net—”
“The time before that was the eve before the great Everfree storm of ‘04. I still haven’t located some of my furniture.”
Celestia rolled her eyes and sighed. “It’s only for a few weeks, Lulu. Have some servants fan you as you sleep.”
Luna narrowed her eyes. “I can already see the headlines if I tried that, Tia. I might as well reinstate the royal herding privileges if I am going to have such rumours floating around.”
Celestia yawned and rose from her pile of pillows. “Here’s a novel thought: sleep during the night, when it’s nice and cool. That’s what I’m about to do, anyway.”
Luna bid her sister an angry goodnight using the Royal Canterlot Raspberry. Spittle flew onto the guardsponies, stunning them. Ponies as far as the market district scrunched their noses and sniffed cautiously before chuckling. When the echoes died down the princess of the night grabbed a pitcher of carrot juice in her magic. She brought it over to her glass before hesitating, shrugging and bringing the pitcher to her lips instead. Audible glugs was the only sound in the room for a while, covering the guards’ surreptitious attempts at drying their manes and coats. When the pitcher was completely drained it was set down on the table with a clunk. Luna drew a deep, shuddering breath and muttered under her breath.
“This heat is killing me!”
She felt celestial magic surge somewhere close by. The angle of the sun’s rays approached the horizontal. Then the light dimmed. Servants circled the hall, lighting candles. Luna sighed and set in motion the rising of the moon with but a passing thought, the routine long ago delegated to her spine. Then she hesitated. Why should the night be cool? She turned her head to look at the doors through which Celestia had left. If our little ponies desire a period of stifling heat, who are We to deny them? She bit her lip and looked down at the table, where her preferred breakfast salad was already wilting. On the other hoof, I could really appreciate some cooling off myself. Then she smiled. But I have access to a nice and cold heavenly body, within my reach whenever I need it. Let the ponies have their heat during nighttime as well; let Tia hear them should they complain.
Her horn flared to life again and she flexed ancient mental muscles. In the sky the moon grew... and grew... and grew.
******
“Your Majesty.” The ancient courtier bowed, letting both left knees touch the carpet in front of the throne. He was very obviously uncomfortable in his official garb, streaks of moist fur indicating how much he was sweating. Luna sat on the throne and smiled down at him.
“Rise, my good pony, and tell me what business asks for my attention tonight. After that I think you’ll have the night off. I’m sure I can manage.”
The courtier’s eyes widened as he rose, a grateful smile forming on his lips. Luna caught a brief daydream emanating from him; something involving iced drinks and a large pool of water. He cleared his throat.
“Lots of festivities around Canterlot tonight, Princess, and some of them have extended an invitation to the crown.”
“Oh? What kind of festivities?”
The courtier walked over to a table and shuffled through a pile of papers. “There is a competition of some kind taking place in the market square in an hour or so. They have sent an invitation to the throne to either officiate or take part.”
This intrigued Luna. “What kind of competition?”
There was a pause as the courtier turned some papers around. “A... drinking competition, your majesty.”
“Well! I’m tempted, but I am not sure I should be seen endorsing that kind of competition...”
Luna trailed off, looking wistfully out through the double doors of the throne room and further through the doorways of the great hall and gatehouse. Tradition held that they were open whenever court was called, allowing the princesses a clear line of sight down at Canterlot. The courtier smiled. “It is my pleasure to inform you that the contest involves non-alcoholic drinks, Your Majesty. Apparently a juice of rhubarb and lime has been chosen for this year’s contest.”
“Oh.” Luna sighed, letting her disappointment show. “I guess I can take part without hesitation after all. What else is there?”
“Around midnight there are two celebratory gatherings. The Polite Public Plotters are celebrating their five hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary of trying to wrest the throne from you and your sister via civil obedience. They have cordially extended an invitation to both of you to partake in the publically announced secret meeting and dinner party held tonight. You can expect to be mildly harangued about the evils of absolute rule compared to shadowy puppet regimes, but it’s a six-course dinner and they have many five-star chefs among their members.”
Luna pursed her lips and nodded. “I can always tune them out. What’s the other occasion?”
“A new nightclub is opening in the downtown area. Club V.S. Supposedly aiming to be popular among the younger ponies. A VIP-pass was received through the royal mail. Their doors open precisely at midnight.”
“Sounds intriguing. It might be good for my sociological studies to visit a place frequented by the youth of Canterlot.”
“I’m sure it is, Princess. After that there is the Astronomers’ Annual Solstice Symposium, from midnight to sunrise. They have an open house for the entire night, of course, but the invitation is for the honorary table on the main floor. They, too, serve dinner, though it’s a light three-course affair.”
Luna’s mood brightened until she was smiling happily. The astronomers were devoted to her night sky, oftentimes way past the point of obsession. She didn’t mind visiting them at all. “Sounds great!” She clapped her front hooves together. “That sounds like a full schedule for tonight. Write it down for me. Then you have the rest of the night free.”
The courtier bowed and set to writing. Luna watched with amusement as his attention drifted to his daydreams.
******
Music and chatter rose together with the warm air as Luna circled inside a thermal above the market square, looking for a place to land without squashing somepony. A stand was erected at one end of the square and the space directly in front of it looked clear and inviting, so she let herself descend. She heard somepony shout when she was perhaps three storeys up, and by the ripple of ensuing gasps she determined the crowd had become aware of her. The noise of the square was greatly subdued when her hooves contacted the flagstones. Everypony was bowing to her.
She took a deep breath and spoke, very carefully modulating her voice to keep it from becoming too loud. “Arise, my little ponies! Continue as you were!”
The ponies acted as they always did when in the presence of royalty; they tried to please her by feigning nonchalance as they suddenly became embarrassed by actions they only a minute before had performed without a second thought.
I should put them more at ease. The question is, how? Two ponies, acting as if they’d heard some cue, approached Luna. One was an overdressed unicorn mare and the other an earth pony stallion in a colourful suit. The mare spoke while oozing smugness. “Your highness, we can’t even begin to express how overjoyed we are that you decided to grace us with a visit!” She fanned herself, using her magic to grip a leaflet and wave it in front of her face. “It seems we’re having a very, very warm evening, so the contestants should be motivated enough! This ought to be a good show!”
I could do with some refreshment myself, Luna thought as she carefully eyed the predatory grin the mare in front of her was displaying. The solution to that, and to putting her subjects at ease, occurred to her then and there. “Miss, I take it you are one of the organisers of this event?”
The unicorn nodded enthusiastically. “Thyme Lime at your service, Your Highness! This here is my husband and partner, Rhubarb Stalk! We own an orchard outside town and a juice press in the workshops’ district. This is a marketing opportunity for our wares.” She sighed and seemed to recite from memory with a dreamy smile. “Drink ‘Rhubarb & Lime’, for a refreshing time!”
Luna carefully maintained her pleasant smile. “Very inspiring. So, where should I go to participate?”
Thyme Lime seemed on the verge of fainting from happiness and could only squeak incoherently while a bubble of spittle inflated at the corner of her mouth. Rhubarb Stalk coughed gently and bowed to Luna before speaking. “We are honoured, Princess! There is no separate area for contestants: you are free to mingle. We’ll announce the start of the competition soon.”
True to his words, he called the contestants to the stage a short while later. Rhubarb held a funnel in front of his mouth to project his voice as he spoke. Behind him Luna took her place at the middle of a long table together with nine other contestants. Functionaries were dipping small glasses into barrels of juice and stacking them filled in front of each contestant.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts, the rules are simple: You have five minutes to drink up as many glasses as you can! Each emptied glass is worth two points, but each time you spill any juice you are deducted three points so be careful! Use of magic is not allowed! The pony with most points wins! Are you ready?”
The contestants cheered their affirmative and Luna nodded regally while grinning. The night heat was really bad and she was looking forward to the refreshment. Rhubarb held a bell in a hoof and struck it with a hammer held in his mouth, that being the starting signal. The crowd immediately erupted into cheers. Luna had been caught unprepared and she was momentarily paralysed while listening to the slurping coming from both sides. Then she quickly bent her neck and closed her lips over a glass before flipping her head back, swallowing the contents of the glass in a single gulp. The ponies in front of the stage voiced their merry approval.
Luna settled into an easy routine, picking up a glass, tilting it back and spitting it out in a very short timeframe. The clatter and clink of glass was nearly constant, aided by a functionary who kept replacing the emptied glasses with additional filled ones. The juice was pleasant; just sour enough to be very refreshing. It sparkled in her mouth, making her slightly regret the uncaring way she guzzled the liquid.
Sudden coughing and hacking on her left distracted her for a heartbeat or two as a contestant managed to get juice in his windpipe. Then there was a groan on her right as a mare set down a half-finished glass and gently held her stomach while her face turned green. The crowd laughed sympathetically. Luna focused on the glasses in front of her again until the sound of the bell signalled time running out. The crowd was cheering, seemingly at her. The mare on her right was gazing at her with a mixture of respect and amazement. In front of Luna was a huge pile of haphazardly stacked and empty glasses of juice. The functionaries were staring at her.
Luna’s stomach rumbled before emitting a sound like the death-rattle of an ancient sea monster. She blushed and put her hooves to her lips. Rhubarb put the cone to his mouth again. “Ladies and Gentlecolts, it seems we’ve been blessed with the Royal Burp!” It was a feeble joke but to Luna’s chagrin the crowd laughed anyway. A functionary walked up to Rhubarb and gave him a paper. The earth pony continued.
“Looks like we have the rankings sorted out! Before I announce the winners I’d like you all to give a big applause to all contestants! Remember, you’ve all won something if you feel refreshed!”
The crowd applauded and cheered obediently and with enthusiasm. Luna glanced to her left, at the still queasy mare, pondering Rhubarb’s words.
“At fourth place, with sixteen glasses and thirty-two points, is Roseluck of Ponyville!” The crowd applauded again. The pony Roseluck waved and grinned. “At third place, with twenty-two glasses and thirty-five points, is Swift Wind of Cloudsdale!” A pegasus at the right end of the table rose to her hind legs and whooped. “Second place, with an impressive tally of thirty-one glasses and equally impressive fifty-three points, goes to Terra Incognita of Roam!” A massive earth pony rose from her seat and bowed with dignity to the crowd. “And in first place... with an unbelievable tally of fifty-four glasses coupled with a perfect score of one hundred and eight points... showing why she’s one of the undisputed rulers of Equestria, our own Princess Luna!”
“HUZZAH!”
The massive stack of empty shot glasses in front of the princess collapsed, adding a staccato of clinks and crashes to the noise of the crowd. Two functionaries rushed to stop the avalanche of glass but ended up colliding with their heads and slumping to the floor of the stage. Luna smiled and waved at the cheering ponies, feeling thoroughly entertained.
******
“...And if I collect another thirteen points I’ll advance to level fifteen and get the title ‘Lord High Schemer’! It comes with a pin! Oh... could you pass the iced tea, Princess?”
Luna didn’t even look up from her plate of tasty rucola salad and fried cheese. She fired up her horn and felt around the table for the correct vessel, levitating it over to her table companion. The mare was a small business owner with Big Plans involving polite world domination, apparently through a government based on collecting coupons and receiving points for doing embroidery. The food, on the other hoof, was excellent.
“I must say, this heat wave we’re experiencing now is just another example of how inefficient a diarchy is! I’ve sent a memo to the board where I suggest that once the revolution comes we’ll let the populace vote on a single temperature to be maintained year-round. That should make everypony so much happier!”
Luna let the words wash over her and away like water off a duck’s back while her eyes roamed. The hall was a large, nondescript storage somewhere at the edge of the commercial district, converted into a temporary dining establishment. The kitchen was an open affair in the middle of the room, symbolising this secret society’s fixation with transparency in their plotting. The air, fueled by five open fires and nearly two hundred ponies, was beyond sweltering. It made a serious attempt at classifying the establishment as a sauna. That’s why Luna’s table partner refilled her mug with iced tea for the fourth time within an hour, simultaneously fanning herself with a napkin, and why Luna herself took the opportunity to fill her own glass, for the third time, shortly after.
A bearded pegasus tapped a hoof on the edge of the speakers’ podium to gain the attention of the diners. He cleared his throat while waiting for the din of cutlery and small-talk to fade. “Ladies, gentlecolts; co-conspirators, I am afraid the chocolate cake that we’d serve now according to the menu has met an unfortunate heat-related end on the way from the shop.” Several disappointed groans were heard. “On a related note, those with long, trailing dresses or delicate hoofslippers would do well to avoid the corner of clover street and bakers’ lane due to a particularly messy collision.” Scattered laughter mixed with more groans. “I wish to apologise on behalf of the organisers and also to reassure you we haven’t been left empty-hooved. We’ve managed to conspire a replacement in the form of plum sorbet.”
Wild cheering filled the overheating hall.
******
Oonz, oonz, unz unz unz...
“I didn’t know anypony still remembered the ceremonial hunting music of the mareabian nomads! They’d faded away centuries before my imprisonment!”
Luna was shouting to the back of one of the most neon-themed ponies she’d ever seen. The unicorn, who’d introduced herself as Dee-Jay Pawntree (or something close to it, at least – it was hard to hear even words shouted into one’s ear in all the noise), seemed to be both the owner and the musical director of the establishment the Princess was currently gracing with her presence.
Luna had been supplied with a throne for the night. Somepony had looked at the real throne in Canterlot Court and replicated its general shape, but instead of gold and velvet the replica was made mostly of clear, translucent plastic. Tubes, globes and little pinpricks of coloured lights festooned its innards, apparently linked to whatever produced the sounds as they pulsed in various patterns timed to the beat. It was positioned on the highest tier of a series of nested daises forming a vague pyramid.
Miss (Luna guessed) Dee’s arcane-looking musical equipment was right in front of her, set on a lower level so it and the mare didn’t impede the Princess’ view. Surrounding the unorthodox stage on all sides was a throng of ponies, all so tightly packed that their dancing out of necessity consisted of leaping up and down – something they did with ferocious vigour.
Dee-Jay paused fiddling with the equipment in front of her in order to turn and grin, eyebrows raised, while pointing a hoof to her ear. Luna repeated her shouted statement. The white mare’s grin widened and she shouted back.
“That’s cool – I didn’t know there’s been music like this before!”
“The instruments are new but the style is the same! It’s a very close rendition! And you claim it is circumstantial?!”
Dee-Jay nodded. “Sorry, Princess Luna, I’ve never heard of the mareabian nomads before! Is this very close?!”
“They used more treble, in the form of small tambourines and bells shaken in rapid series, but other than that and the instruments used it’s a near-perfect replica!”
Dee-Jay grinned and turned to stare speculatively at her equipment. After a moment’s pause her hooves darted to various knobs to buttons. Then Luna heard tambourines and bells. She laughed and clapped her hooves together as Dee-Jay turned to her once more and bowed. “Now it’s perfect! You even have the smell right! All this unwashed and half-baked pony-hide brings me right back!”
Dee-Jay’s grin wavered but didn’t break. She fanned herself with a hoof and said something about beefing up the air-conditioning but Luna couldn’t hear her clearly. The princess leaned back and grabbed a glass of (complimentary) soda with her magic. She let the glass linger in front of her face once she’d sipped from it, studying how the liquid rippled in sync with the deepest bass tones of the music. Luna could feel that same beat pulse through her as well, presumably creating ripples there too where possible. It reminded her that she’d drunk a lot of liquid tonight.
She leaned forward to shout at Dee-Jay’s back. “Do you have restrooms anywhere?”
The neon and white unicorn turned around briefly to nod at Luna and wave a hoof in the general direction of the end of the room opposite the entrance. A pair of (relatively) inconspicuous neon signs pointed out the likely doors. They appeared very distant to Luna’s eyes, especially thanks to the obvious, snaking queues in front of them. She bit her lip and considered her situation for a while before deciding to tough it out. There’s no panic yet. Then her eyes drifted to the illuminated clock between the restroom signs. What the… Where did the time go?! She rose from her seat and laid a hoof on Miss Jay’s shoulder.
“We’ve enjoyed Ourselves, but it is time for us to leave!! We have another appointment still tonight!”
The garish mare in front of Luna nodded and grinned before turning back to her equipment and leaning towards a microphone.
“Fillies and colts, give a big goodbye to our very own Princess of the Night, Luna!”
******
“Luna, my old eyes greatly appreciate your kind gesture allowing me to view the features of your moon in such detail on this very night. That said... we’d really like to see some more of your stars as well.” The wizened astronomer chuckled. “I know, I know, it seems no matter what you do we always end up complaining!”
The Astronomers’ Annual Solstice Symposium was an affair steeped in tradition, with age doubling as rank. The guest list for the main table consisted of the oldest (and highest-ranked) members of the guild of astronomers plus invited guests. The meal they were served reflected this, with emphasis mostly on easily digestible food – with a couple exceptions. The drinks – tea and coffee in various forms – and the dessert, chocolate and coffeebean ice-cream, were a nod to the astronomers’ nocturnal working hours. That still didn’t stop some ponies from nodding off, lending a gentle background noise of snores to accompany the general chatter.
Luna smiled at the pony who’d spoken to her. Astronomers tended to address the princesses very informally, since they oftentimes felt they knew them better than anypony else – thanks to their studies. The royal sisters didn’t discourage the practice, or deny there was any link between their personalities and the heavenly bodies they controlled, simply because the familiarity was welcome and refreshing to them. Nowadays it had become etiquette: calling the princesses “Your Highness” or the like was the sign of somepony who still hadn’t worn out his or her first telescope.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Guildmaster, but the moon’s proximity is coincidental.”
Guildmaster Spectral Shift raised her eyebrows. “Oh? May I ask why, then?” She winked. “Are you perhaps getting ready for round three against your sister?”
“That was in poor taste, Spectral.” Luna smiled. “No offense taken, though.” She took a breath. “My sister has informed me that the farmers wish for this heat, hoping it will aid their crops to grow. It occurred to me that they never thought to ask me, likely because they are still too shy, so I’d have to show some initiative. I pulled the moon closer so its light would shine stronger upon Equestria and warm up the night as well.”
“Oh? That’s very noble of you. Heat makes plants grow better? I don’t know the first thing about farming, I admit, though that sounds interesting. What is the mechanic?”
Luna’s brow furrowed. “I think it’s more the light than the heat, Spectral, though I must admit it’s been millennia since I tried to cultivate anything more than a single rosebush. In any case, I hope the farmers are pleased. THE HEAT WILL LAST—”
Luna silenced herself with a hoof shoved into her mouth. Scattered crashes and tinkles from dropped cutlery and dinnerware echoed together with her words before the noise level in the hall dropped to zero. Everypony, including the ones who’d been sleeping, was staring at Luna. She blushed and giggled.
“Sorry! Old reflex there!” She cleared her throat and turned with burning cheeks to Spectral, whose mane was now blown straight backwards and whose left eye was twitching. “As I was saying... the nigh— the heat. The heat will last until… until the farmers no longer need it. The night will last until morning. Yes.” Her eyes darted around. Everywhere she looked ponies stared back at her with stunned expressions.
Then, as if on cue, they all resumed whatever they were doing. Somepony snored within seconds. Guildmaster Shift patted down her mane while grinning at Luna. Then the wizened mare put her hooves around her cup of iced tea and drank from it, slurping noisily. Luna watched, entranced, until she noticed what she was doing and shook her head to clear it.
Her ears scanned the sounds of the room and locked onto a gurgle behind and to her left. She glanced that way and saw an elderly unicorn pour himself a cup of cocoa, for some reason keeping the pitcher a good distance above his cup, letting the liquid steam as it trailed through the air in an impressive arc.
Luna shifted restlessly. Then her eyes widened and she whispered to herself. “Oh dear. In my absent-mindedness I have forgotten something.”
Spectral noticed Luna’s dismay and leaned towards her with eyebrows raised, speaking in hushed tones. “Is something the matter?”
Luna stared with mounting discomfort at a pony, by another table, who was busy noisily pouring himself a glass of soda. “Er, I need to powder my nose. Please excuse me for a moment.” She rose from her seat while returning Spectral’s smile with an apologetic one.
The Astronomers’ Annual Solstice Moonshine Guzzler Bash was an affair steeped in tradition, but not with any trace of dignity. It had had many titles down the year, but they were generally some mocking perversion of the party’s more respectable twin.
With the elder astronomers safely gathered in one location, the trainees and the juniors had the rest of the Astronomers’ Guild to themselves. “Moonshine” generally meant whatever had been smuggled in and hidden away, in various cellars and attics, under cover of the previous night. The parties tended to become at least moderately rowdy, as the young (but perhaps not very physically fit) adults abandoned their inhibitions and cut loose, relatively secure thanks to the unwritten agreement between juniors and elders not to bother one another.
Luna knew all this well and was therefore half disappointed, half surprised when she stepped out of the noisy hall and failed to encounter an even noisier hallway. Where she’d expected wild partying there were only a couple forlorn ponies here and there, sleeping against walls or moaning and fanning themselves with star charts. The hallway was sweltering with heat, residue of partying earlier that night before the temperature became too much for the revelers.
She knew the building’s layout in detail, thanks to her frequent visits, so she didn’t have to bother anypony and ask for directions. She didn’t hurry as she stepped among the prone partiers, but only because that was beneath her dignity. Thus she arrived via a brisk walk at the closest restroom – only to find it barred from the inside.
Luna bit her lip while she feverishly tried to recall the building’s layout and figure out where the next closest restroom was. She realised with frustration that the only other set of general restrooms, for that matter the only other restrooms she knew of in the building, was on the other side of it and on a different floor. She was torn between staying and going.
A loud snore issued from behind the barred door.
Luna’s forehoof flew towards the door’s panelled surface, but she hesitated just before she’d have impacted with it. She was fond of the astronomers in general and whatever pony slept in there had a high risk of being very old and of a generally frail condition. Rudely awakening whoever it was could have unintended consequences, such as cardiac arrest and the like.
Grimacing and muttering silent curses, Luna trotted towards the stairs.
The upper floors were almost empty of resting ponies, but the heat was even worse. The marble flooring was a bad surface to run on, making her hooves skid dangerously with every other step. Her thoughts raced whenever she wasn’t distracted by having to maintain her balance. Maybe I could fly? No, there’s no time to reach my quarters. Also, I haven’t tried flying while needing to go this badly. That could become embarrassing. Teleporting maybe?
She galloped up the stairs, badly startling a pony in the process of sweeping them. Teleporting… how? Bathrooms are small! I’m not sure I could reliably target my own personal one even though I know precisely where it is.
She rounded a corner so fast she skidded into the opposite wall, bouncing off it before galloping onwards, all decorum now abandoned in favour of haste. Behind her, chunks of plaster broke free from the impact point and fell to the floor, shattering and stirring up a cloud of dust.
Her goal was now in sight; a row of doors right where two hallways intersected.
Correction; a row of doorways with their doors removed.
An A-stand stood by the wall held a cardboard notice:
RESTROOMS CLOSED DUE TO REPAIRS
Please use the facilities on the first floor!
Luna whimpered and cursed while shoving her head into the darkness of the closest of the cubicles in order to desperately inspect their state. It was as she feared; there were no sanitary furnishings at all, and the floor had been ripped open to expose the piping underneath. Only a mirror was hung on the wall.
She froze and stared at her mirror image, thinking feverishly. I’m out of options. Magic or royal embarrassment. But which spells…?
Then she thought a sentence that made Discord cackle, even as the god of chaos slept in his own bed in Ponyville, a good distance removed:
I’ll just combine them all. It can’t get any worse.
One Stall Closes, Another Opens
Chapter Two:
One Stall Closes, Another Opens
Depending on your point of view, Franzibald Holkins (named by two very loving parents), ‘Fonzie’ to his friends and ‘Baldie’ to those on his black list of annoyances, was either the best or the worst person to be Earth’s first contact with another sentient species.
He’d always been large and heavy-set. Coupled with a shy and passive personality, as well as great strength coupled with poor agility, he’d gone through life feeling the proverbial bull in the china shop. Where others having his physique would’ve gone effortlessly through life’s difficulties with fists swinging, he’d chosen to whine until whomever caused him distress caved and went away. That tactic, too, had worked, if only because there’s a psychological barrier stopping even the most blatant mouth-breathers from bullying someone one and a half heads taller than them.
One would think he’d have been picked for some of the more physical sports, but Franzibald had worn strong glasses for all of his life. He could run with the best of his classes, and could kick a ball hard enough to make the pig squeal in the past, but kids who couldn’t remember which team they were supposed to be on nevertheless got picked before he did.
So he became an accountant and found work at an insurance agency.
This particular, fateful night was wearing hard on his nerves. He was working his sixth hour of overtime (unpaid) trying to make sense of his department’s financial records, or at least trying to make sense of it in a way that didn’t mean he’d have to report his employer to the police for embezzlement.
Moments before, he’d slammed his hands against his desk and shoved, rising up from his chair with a frustrated growl. He’d stalked out of his cubicle and headed towards the closest restrooms… and paused. With gloomy assessments regarding his continued employment circling around his head, he’d opted to rebel, as only someone as mild as Franzibald could, and changed his course towards the stairs up to the junior executives’ floor.
The restroom he entered had tasteful, dim lights that lit automatically as he entered. A faint scent of meadow flowers lingered in the cool air. Four bathroom stalls against one wall, opposite four marble sinks with chrome and brass faucets, oval mirrors and paper towel dispensers. He opened the second stall door he passed, entered, pulled down his pants and boxers, and sat down.
He was humming contentedly at the warmth issuing from the toilet seat when a noise like a landslide crossed with a power station made the room shake, and something big and heavy landed with such force against the partitioning wall to his right that it buckled and cracked.
Many other people might have yelled, screamed or otherwise noisily lost their cool. In all honesty Franzibald did lose his cool, but that only involved him sitting up straighter and nervously looking around, as if the inside of the toilet stall could somehow provide reassurance. The sound of something brushing slowly against the now convex partition didn’t provide any reassurance at all.
Then there was a very distinct sound of trickling, accompanied by an unmistakably feminine sigh.
The realisation that Franzibald could be occupying the same restroom as someone of the opposite gender made him break out in cold sweat, something the unearthly noise and violent shaking hadn’t managed. Though it never is much of an excuse, he wasn’t really thinking as much as simply acting on instinctual politeness when he cleared his throat.
Having already lost his cool, the deep blue face – placed on an inhumanly long neck and with a disturbingly elongated snout, suddenly appearing above the partition and twisting until it regarded him with a pair of huge and dark eyes – made him lose his bowels.
The face regarded Franzibald for a couple seconds, blinking once. Then the snout moved and a mouth opened.
“Ah.”
The head turned to gaze along the row of stalls, and judging by the way it was twisting its mouth it was either deep in thought or had bitten into something sour. It cleared its throat and turned back to Franzibald.
“Greetings, my little… person.” Franzibald lifted his right arm in a small, vague and purely reflexive wave. The head continued speaking. “I sense I might have startled you. For that I apologise. Is there some way I might make reparations?”
Franzibald blinked as if it was the mechanism by which he jumpstarted his mental processes after a near total standstill. Then he twitched his head forward and down before raising just enough so that he could peer up at the night-blue face above him.
“Er… could I have a little privacy?”
“Oh! Certainly…” The face ducked down behind the partitioning wall. Some part of Franzibald’s mind less concerned with things like reality noted that deep blue (...skin? Fur? How does that work?) appeared to blush a purplish red. He rested his elbows on his knees and let his head meet his hands with a light slap. He sat like that for a while, breathing deeply and listening to the sounds of something moving in the next stall and brushing up against the wall. There was a grumbling, barely audible, and although he was unfamiliar with the particular terms used he was positive it was swearing.
“Discord’s teats…”
Franzibald sighed, concluded that the sudden appearance of the head had made him finish his business, and reached for the toilet paper.
“Look. I’ve seen the movie. I’m losing my mind, right?”
The small noises from the other stall ceased. “I… wouldn’t know. We’ve only just met.”
“I don’t even own any swedish furniture! Mine are all-American, made in China!”
“That is… good for you?”
“I guess what I’m saying is… do I really have to blow up my apartment? It’s got a nice view.”
“Are you asking me?”
“Well… yes.”
The other stall fell silent, so after a while Franzibald stood and pulled up his trousers. Complaining to someone who was willing to listen always made him feel secure, so he opened the stall door without much thought and crossed the room to the sinks. He pumped soap from the dispenser and put his hands under the faucet, waiting for the sensor to activate. As he did so, the female voice sounded from behind him.
“I feel honored that you’d ask advice from me, a perfect stranger, considering my appearance must be at least somewhat peculiar to you.”
He’d looked up in the mirror when he’d heard the voice. There, staring at him from the open doorway of the stricken stall next to the one he’d used, he saw what appeared to be an animal – horse, he’d conjecture if pressed – dyed midnight blue and wearing some kind of hallucinogenic wig that flowed in response to an invisible wind. Its front hooves rested on the tiled floor outside the stall, with its back hooves just inside, and Franzibald assumed it was sitting on the toilet, though he couldn’t confirm it since the creature was so large it occupied almost the entire stall, bulging walls notwithstanding. The sight gave him serious pause, making his answer little more than a mumble.
“I was prepared for strange. Well, thought I was.”
The creature blinked its massive eyes once and licked its lips. “A sensible stance, I suppose. Maybe we should introduce ourselves? I am P— My name is Luna.”
“Franzibald.”
Luna nodded. “Well met, Franzibald. Now, since you ask me, I advise against inflating your apartment. The neighbours might complain.”
He realised his hands were unmoving under the stream from the faucet and spent a couple seconds washing them. When he straightened up he spoke.
“What about the rest of the stuff? Founding some weird cult, challenging the establishment and all that?”
The creature named Luna raised her eyes and blinked rapidly as she digested the question. “Franzibald, it would be wrong of me to try to manage your life decisions to such a level, since you are not one of my subjects. That said, what you are asking about sounds perilous. I’d advise you to consider the consequences before deciding.”
Franzibald’s shoulders sagged. Why couldn’t at least insanity be free of doubt and hesitation? “Well, do you at least have some cryptic life advice for me? A single word that I should follow?”
Luna tilted her head. Then she glanced at the stall Franzibald had left. He could imagine her thoughts expand to include his past, his future and his place in the universe. He watched with rising excitement as she took a deep breath and held it, crinkling her nose ever-so-slightly.
“Flush.”
Franzibald let out a stuttering breath that he’d been unaware he was holding. “Flush?”
“Yes. Flush.”
He looked down at himself, turning the word over in his mind. “Wow. Ok. That’s a good one.” He raised his head and smiled at Luna. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” There was a dispenser of lightly perfumed paper towels at every sink, between the mirrors, so he pulled out two and used them to wipe his hands dry, all the while aware of and ignoring the peculiar, askew look he was receiving from Luna. He threw the used towels into the garbage can under the sink and turned around to smile at the creature while walking towards the exit.
“Well, thanks for your wisdom.”
“Wait, please!”
He paused. “Yes?”
Luna fidgeted. “Could you please find me another roll of toilet paper? The one in this stall seems to have lodged itself under my wing, and I’d rather not maneuver that extensively at this moment in order to remove it.”
He chuckled as he looked around and spotted a stack of three rolls lying on the counter, out of Luna’s sight. He laughed as he picked one up and moved to hand it over, only for it to be enveloped in a blue aura and float out of his hand. Of course magic.
Franzibald walked out of the bathroom, guffawing all the way back to his desk. There he stood for a while, grinning like an idiot, looking at his computer display filled with incriminating numbers and shaking his head. Then he sat down and wrote an e-mail to his superior, explaining that he was regretfully forced to quit his job, but that the seven-figure severance bonus he’d redirected (he wrote flushed) from that one account in Trinidad was more than enough to ensure no hard feelings of his former employees. All the best, etcetera.
******
Luna, meanwhile, was trying to inspect the strange self-operating magical faucets when a letter popped into existence next to her, delivered via dragonfire and carrying her sister’s seal. She caught the rolled-up parchment with her magic before it hit the floor and opened it.
She scanned the contents, eyes widening with every word.
“Oh throw me to Tartarus, I forgot the tides!”
Suddenly she was very appreciative of the microscopically vast expanses of unreality that lay between her and Celestia’s ire.
Author's Note
Sometimes I wish I could place my hands on the shoulders of my muse, stare her in the eyes and say "Just... what."