Quantum Vault

by Twigai

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Science Fiction, Crossover, Alternate Universe, Twilight Sparkle, Drama, Original Character, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other
Length: 114596

Fleeing from a shattered future that never should have been, a mint-coated mare galloped into the Quantum Vault Accelerator...and vanished. Will the next vault be the vault home?

Thanks to Seattle's Angels for their review of Quantum Vault!

Fleeing from a shattered future that never should have been, a mint-coated mare galloped into the Quantum Vault Accelerator...and vanished.

She awoke to find herself trapped in the ebb and flow of realities, facing mirror images that were not her own; and driven by those she had wronged to change history for the better. Her only guide on this journey is Hal, a pegasus from her own spacetime, who appears in the form of a hologram that only she can see and hear.

And so the minty mare finds herself vaulting from life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that her next vault, will be the vault home...

(CROSSOVER NOTE: Savvy Ponies may have noticed that Quantum Vault is not ~exactly~ the same concept as Quantum Leap. It's meant to be more of an homage, though I've listed it as a 'crossover' due to the considerable, intentional similarities between the two. I wanted to have some freedom to put some original elements in the tale, and to keep things interesting, so readers can't just assume what will happen next based upon knowledge of Quantum Leap. I hope it's working out for everypony!)

Published 2014-12-11 05:50:04 UTC
Last updated 2016-08-17 20:00:42 UTC

Prologue 2 - Thicker Than Water

October 22, 2039

Canterlot

Saturday

For the next week, Twilight returned to cell #8472 every morning. She spent most of the time having pleasant conversations with the walls, but on one particular morning, Quantum Trots did something unexpected. She raised her head and spoke.

“Princess Twilight…” she wheezed, her vocal cords dry from disuse.

“Yes?” Twilight answered hopefully. “Are you okay? Are you thirsty?”

“…you’re still coming here.”

Twilight smiled again, as brightly and warmly as the rising sun. “I’m not going to give up on you, Cutie. You’ll understand one day.” She continued before Quantum could reply, “I don’t care what you say – what happened wasn’t your fault. Your true friends…they know that.”

Quantum turned around. The bluish-purple hue her eyerims had taken on made it obvious she’d been crying. “There’s something I want.”

Twilight brightened a bit, hopeful. “Yes? If it’s something I can give.”

Quantum’s expression remained as if hewn from stone. “If I asked for my tools, would you give them to me?”

Twilight said nothing.

“If I asked for my workshop, would you give that to me?”

Still no reply.

“If I asked to complete the last project I was working on, would you let me do that?”

“…”

Quantum sighed helplessly. “I want to see my mother. Can I at least have that much?”

Twilight hesitated; searching for the right thing to say. “That…might not be the best thing for you, Cutie. I mean, your mother, she…well, that is…she…” The princess trailed off when she noticed a single tear tracing its way down the young mare’s cheek.

“Princess Twilight,” Quantum managed through a shaky voice, “…please? Nothing bad will happen, I promise. I can’t use any magic, and you can have guards there, right? Besides, you’re a lot more powerful than I am. If something did happen there’s no way I could do anything you don’t want me to do.”

Twilight’s expression soured. “Cutie, I didn’t want you to do the things you’ve already done. You still did them.”

Quantum bowed low head and prostrated herself, touching her horn to the ground. “Only because I had my machines. Magic has never been my thing. Your Highness, please…I miss my mother. You have my word I won’t try to escape.”

A breeze wafted in from the single high window. Twilight sighed.

“I want to believe that Cutie, but where your mother is concerned, I’m not sure I can.”

Quantum nearly gave her composure over to sobbing but her former mentor caught her in a web of sweet words before she could fall.

“But I understand what it must be like for mother and daughter. I’ll take you to her. One visit, okay?”

Quantum nodded with all the vigor of a three month old foal.

An hour later, the appointed time came. Quantum Trots found herself wandering down a corridor so dark, her appointed guards had to be unicorns just so they could light the path well enough to prevent tripping. Torches sat on sconces in the walls, but they did little to beat back the encroaching blackness. The maximum security ward seemed otherworldly – a great, black gaping maw in the belly of Equestria that nopony wanted to talk or think about. The cells she was escorted past were solid doors with only small barred portals in them, set higher than she could peer into even when craning her neck. Most of them were apparently empty, but every now and then a shiver ran down her back as she caught the sound of psychotic mumbling or a withered cry.

Prison contained criminals. This place contained evil.

Twilight was already standing outside a single door at the end of the hall. When the guards came to a halt, nopony paid any attention to the meek, worried glances from the scrawny prison-mare who was trying to look in every direction at once.

“Ten minutes,” Twilight ordered the guards with a commanding air Quantum wasn’t used to hearing. “They can be alone, but a guard is to be posted outside the door at all times.”

“Yes, princess!” The guards replied, saluting in unison with their words. Twilight turned to Quantum, her expression softening.

“Cutie, remember what I taught you about the magic of friendship, okay?” When Twilight noticed her charge shivering fearfully, she patted her on the flank. “It’s okay. I’ll come with you.”

Quantum brightened at this, emboldened enough to stride into the chamber when the heavy portal was opened.

The room wasn’t lit – only the torches from outside and Twilight’s horn provided a glow, which was just about enough to see by. There were no windows, and the room was even more dilapidated than Quantum’s own cell. There was a hole in the ground that presumably had the same use as the one they gave her, but no other furnishings other than a pile of empty burlap sacks in a corner. Atop these lay a middle-aged cyan blue mare. Flat on her back, she held her legs up in the air in the posture of a dead roach, and mumbled incoherently at the ceiling.

“Trixie,” Twilight announced, “Please get up. You have a visitor.”

The blue mare didn’t move. Babbling at the ceiling, she moved her legs as if she were trying to gallop upside-down. Quantum looked on the emaciated, ragged form of Trixie Lulamoon with a shock so piercing that she instantly understood why her faux-mentor had been reluctant to honor a request to see her. Her fire gone, Trixie’s eyes were faded to a pale purple fog. Her mane was matted with sweat, and her gauntness only served to augment the age lines under her eyes. Atop her head was the same rubber, sorcerous sheath that prevented Quantum from using her own inherent magic.

Quantum's anger flared. She was by her mother’s side in an instant.

“What is this!?” She demanded. “I know this is maximum security, but how could you not feed her!?”

Twilight sighed apologetically. “They do. She won’t eat.”

“She’s dirty!”

Twilight pointed at the sweet smelling bucket with a sponge in it that was waiting nearby. “There’s a drain in the floor. She never touches it. She never gets up from that spot, either.”

Quantum shot to her knees, gathered her delirious mother up and cradled her while fixing Twilight with a condemning stare. “What about her health!? She could be dying!”

Twilight accepted the rude look with a humility too well-developed for one of royal status. “She’s fine. Physically, anyway. The doctor just saw her yesterday. They…” she paused, deciding whether or not to go on and finally choosing to do so, “…they force nutrients into her, but Cutie…living isn’t just about eating and being clean. You have to want to live. Your mother…well…”

But Quantum wasn’t listening anymore. Huddled over Trixie’s limp form, she was making cooing noises and brushing silvery hair out of the elder unicorn’s face with the backs of her hooves. Twilight’s resolve cracked at the sight. She turned away, trotting out of the room while convincing herself that there were matters she needed to attend to.

“Mom…” Quantum cooed, “…mom? Can you hear me? Are you ok?” She gently rocked her mother, until Trixie’s eyes slowly began to come into focus.

“Mmmmnn…?” The older mare mumbled, “…who?”

Quantum offered the most reassuring smile she could manage. “It’s me, mom. Your daughter.”

Trixie waved a hoof in the air weakly, “Don’t be silly…the Great and Powerful Trixie has no offspring….now begone before I turn you into a purple parasprite or something.”

Quantum smiled uncertainly. The joke was nostalgic, but the disowning claim wasn’t. “Oh mom, come on...it’s me. Cutie, remember?” She gently laid Trixie back down and sat up beside her. “Mom, I’m worried about you. Why aren’t you eating?”

Trixie’s eyes rolled about the room randomly. Her jerky movements gave no indication as to whether she recognized her surroundings or her company. “Eating?” She suddenly clopped her hooves together, “Snips! Snails! Bring me the finest from Sweet Apple Acres and don’t spare the whip!”

Quantum raised an eyebrow. “Who? Mom, it’s just me here. Don’t you remember? Everything that happened?”

Trixie’s expression slackened, and her limbs sprawled to the pile of burlap beneath her. She remained like that for some time, tittering on in words her daughter couldn’t understand, until she finally started making sense again. Her eyes rolled over to Quantum.

“…my Cutie…?”

Quantum felt her cheeks draw back in a nigh-explosive smile. She pounced on top of her mother, wrapping her forelegs around her and lifting her light, bony frame up. “Yes mommy, it’s your Cutie! Aren’t you glad to see me? I missed you so much!”

Trixie focused her bleary eyes on her daughter, and finally sat up under her own power. She reached out and caressed the minty mare’s cheek. Quantum nearly melted under the simple touch. “Little markless Cutie, have you been crying? Tell mommy what’s the matter, hm? We’ll get it set right.”

Quantum grinned broadly at the very old nickname, her mind ripe with nostalgia for her foalhood. Encouraged, she went on. “I’m ok mom…but how are you? Are you sick? Hurt?”

Trixie’s hearth-warmed smile evaporated into a pouty frown. She stroked her daughter’s mane tenderly. “Oh no, mommy’s just fine, but…you see, mommy is missing something. Something very important. I know you never really understood magic all that well, poor dear, but can you help me find it?”

Quantum glanced around the empty room, confirming that it was, indeed, empty. She shrugged. “Sure mom, anything. What is it?”

Trixie got up and clopped about the room, smiling up at the ceiling. She paused before the bucket and took a deep whiff of it. “Aren’t the flowers on this trail just charming? And the sky is so blue!” She perked up, “Ah, of course! It must be in the cart! Won’t you be a dear and run and get it for me?”

Quantum blinked. Her smile faded. “Mom…” she began softly, standing up as well, “mom, there’s no cart. You took it out of the yard and tore it apart to patch the leaks in our roof back in Baltimare twelve years ago, remember?”

Trixie stared off into space, but quickly recovered herself. “Oh yes, of course! A simple bit of soothsaying for the Great and Powerful Trixie!” Shaking her head did nothing to fluff out her matted mane, but she proudly arched her neck anyway. “Isn’t mommy just fantastically skilled?”

“O-of course, mom…” Quantum edged slowly towards her mother, as if she were walking on a pane of glass. “So…what did you lose?”

Trixie’s neck snapped around. For an instant, Quantum found herself looking into a baleful anger emitting from her mother’s eyes. Before she could react to it, the motherly softness returned. “My amulet, of course.”

“Your…?”

“My amulet,” Trixie repeated, drawing a shape in the air with her hooves. “It’s about this big, cute little thing…been in the family for generations. It’s mine, you know.”

Quantum shook her head, trying to form a mental image from the vague description. When something did occur to her, she spoke. “You mean that…that thing you were wearing when you came to Canterlot three weeks ago?”

“Yes!” Trixie responded eagerly. “My amulet! So you have seen it, dear?” She held out her hoof and smiled coyly, “Ohh, I know what this is – my little markless Cutie is playing keep away!”

“Mom, I’m twenty-five years—”

“Oh you’re just so clever, aren’t you?” Trixie waggled the hoof expectantly, giggling, “Fun’s fun my darling child, but mommy needs her amulet back now, ok? Just give it here and go wash your hooves up for dinner! I’m making barley stew tonight, your favorite!”

Quantum sat on her hind legs and made a show of holding up her hooves. “I don’t have any amulet, mom.” Dismayed, she went back down on all fours and cast her mother a longing glance. “Mom, don’t you remember what happened? What you did?”

Trixie folded her forelegs smartly and grinned a sheepish grin. “Silly filly, of course I do. I got my revenge on the whole world.”

“What…?” The minty mare felt a shiver at the sudden bizarre statement, and took a step away from her mother. “Revenge?”

“Of course dear!” Trixie continued as if she were talking about obtaining turnips for a special stew. “What’s wrong with that? I made everypony pay for twenty-six years of torture! The Great and Powerful Trixie commands nothing less from her subjects!”

Quantum found herself counting in her head, trying to make sense of her mother’s words. “Twenty-six…torture? Mom, you…you leveled half the city. You hurt ponies. You did things the mother I know would never do. I get that you were upset about something, but what in Equestria could cause somepony as loving and nurturing as you to—”

“That pony isn’t real,” Trixie cut in, her eyes narrowing. With a sultry canter, she moved over to her daughter. Never taking her eyes away from the minty mare, Trixie came up beside her and cupped her chin, turning her head until they were eye-to-eye. “The Great and Powerful Trixie,” she whispered, “only loves her little Cutie. Everypony else can go to Hell. Where they all belong.”

Quantum sputtered, too shocked to move away. “Mom…? What…what are you saying…?”

Trixie drew her lips up close to her daughter’s ear. “Poor little markless Cutie. You were always such an absent-minded professor. Why do you think we lived out of a cart the first six years of your life? Why did we end up staying in that dirty, disgusting, slummy hole on that horrid side street for more than twice as long afterwards? All mommy wanted at first was to show up that rotten little egotist, Twilight Sparkle. But mommy’s best friend – mommy’s amulet had a different idea. A better idea. But then those awful nags took him away from me.”

Trixie emitted a razor-edged giggle and continued. “But twenty-six years later…twenty-six years of depression, despondence, desperation, and humiliation later, my amulet found me. He belongs to me. I bought him fair and square, and he found his way back to me. He and I both knew by then that Twilight Sparkle wasn’t enough. They all wronged me this time, and they all needed to know who they were dealing with. He helped me remind them.”

Quantum felt as though her hooves were nailed to the dank floor. The warmth behind her mother’s once nurturing touch felt far away; tempered by an iciness that never existed before. “That thing you were wearing was glowing….mom, this isn’t like you. That thing must have done something to you.”

“The Alicorn Amulet is mine to command, not the other way around!” Trixie snapped. Just as quickly as the impulse arose, it vanished again, and Trixie slipped back into a syrupy sweet demeanor. “My dear Cutie, I realize you don’t fully understand. It’s a lot to take in for a cute little filly, and…well..” she looked almost apologetic, “…I never wanted you to be involved. But it’s too late for that now.” Playfully she nuzzled her daughter’s cheek, “So you’ll help mommy, won’t you?”

Quantum swallowed. “Help mommy do what?”

“Get my amulet back, of course.”

Quantum’s blood ran cold. “I…I can’t do that.”

Trixie’s eyes narrowed. Her smile curled. “Oh? And why not, dear?” Practically slithering around her offspring, Trixie cooed and curled, lowering her scared, lonely daughter down onto the burlap sacks. Quantum’s head in her lap, Trixie stroked her mane and gazed up at the nonexistent stars. “Remember how we used to look up at them together from the cart, dear? How I taught you their names, and how we shared all our hopes and dreams together?”

Quantum sighed deeply, her thoughts colored in sepia. For a moment, despite all that had happened, she drifted back to simpler times, reveling in the caress of the one pony that had always been there for her, in good times and in bad. “Yeah…I miss it sometimes…”

“Oh, me too dear. All the time.” Trixie cooed. “Tell me what you remember.”

Long over their ten-minute limit, Quantum went on, her voice laden with a thick nostalgia that softened the hearts of even the guards. She regaled her giggling mother with stories of two ponies versus the world, and hard times the younger of them never realized were hard, thanks to the elder. When she was finished, she lay still, thinking she too could almost see the starry sky beyond the grimy ceiling of the maximum security cell.

“You see?” Trixie chuckled, “It’s always been you and mommy hasn’t it? Even now.”

Quantum’s smile faded. Reality came back.

“You’re such a darling child,” Trixie warbled, nuzzling her daughter cozily. “When mommy came to you for help, you helped her. Helped her make the bad ponies pay. Mommy was so good to you, you can’t ever say no to mommy, can you?”

Quantum squirmed uncomfortably. She thought about what she’d done at her mother’s behest, while feeling the soothing warmth of the elder unicorn’s familiar body heat pooled all around her. Her voice became small.

“…no mommy.”

“That’s a dear. Mommy wants you to help her get her amulet back. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

“I…I can’t, mommy.”

There was a pause before Trixie spoke again.

“…why? Don’t you love mommy anymore?”

At that, Quantum bolted upright and fixed her mother with a mortified stare. “It’s not that mom! Of course I love you! I can’t get your amulet back because it’s gone, remember? The Elements of Harmony destroyed it. The explosion leveled seven city blocks. Ponies got hurt. Your amulet hurt them.” She sputtered, “Why do you even want such an awful thing that hurts ponies like that!?”

Abruptly, Trixie Lulamoon became somepony else. Somepony that her daughter, who thought she knew her better than anyone, had never seen before. Somepony who had been hiding under the surface, seething and waiting for decades to come crawling out. Her empty eyes filled up with the fire of life that her daughter was used to seeing, but they kept boiling until they were nearly the color of blood. Her brow hardened and she leapt to her hooves with a feral growl.

“Don’t you talk about my amulet that way, young lady!” Trixie roared. “He was a better child to me than you ever were! If any ponies were harmed, it’s your fault! Everything is your fault! If it hadn’t been for you, The Great and Powerful Trixie would have had her cake and eaten it too years ago, and none of this would have been necessary! You stupid little filly – how can anypony be so daft as to just smile and nod every day of their life, and not understand the pain of their loved ones, nor even try!? I made you, mare; you owe me for every sickly sweet day of your life, and every moment you got to spend following your idiot science dream! The Great and Powerful Trixie’s daughter should be great and powerful too, but you? You’re a pathetic excuse for a magician, and all you have to show for yourself is geekdom and stupid machines!”

Quantum gaped, whimpering like a foal. “M-mommy…?”

“Don’t ‘mommy’ me!” Trixie went on, her eyes wet; venom and scorching lava spewing from her in torrents. “I was poised for true greatness this time! True power! But you screwed it all up, and now my amulet – my friend is gone! I worked for you – slaved to put food in your face, a blanket over you, and a school for you to go to! And you stole my dream! You want to know who your father was? How in Equestria should I know!? He was probably one of the dozens of stallions who gave me enough money to stay alive before you came along! And in Baltimare, did you really think there were that many odd jobs just waiting around to be taken? They took everything from me, even my purity! And it’s all because of you!”

Quantum Trots, who had dropped the surname ‘Lulamoon’ when she entered school simply because it was too long to write in the application blank, could no longer see for the tears. “M-mommy…” she sputtered, “please…I’m sorry…I love you…don’t be like this…I really didn’t know…”

Rage burrowing up from every pore, Trixie leapt towards her child – only to be pulled down by a guard. The burly stallion was considerably taller and stronger looking than his captive, but adrenaline can be a powerful tool. It took both guards to finally pin the boiling mad blue mare to the ground.

The cell door hung open. Quantum didn’t hesitate.

Alarms and cries of escape rang in her ears, but she didn’t care. Belonging in prison didn’t matter anymore. Belonging anywhere didn’t matter anymore. Her own mother – her only family, had ripped her still beating heart from her chest and gnawed it ruthlessly to tattered shreds. Galloping full tilt, she whisked past the unprepared guard station and bowled over a warden on her way to the streets above.

Afternoon settled grimly over the city of Canterlot. The palace still stood as a bastion of hope, but much of the remaining residential quarters of the city had been blasted to rubble. Work ponies glutted the streets, some hovering on floating platforms borne from new technology that had only just begun to see widespread use. The populace, to their credit, were going about its business as best they could manage. Quantum only had a moment to look upon a small family wearing black, huddled before a photo and a ruined home, before somepony noticed her and cried out.

Bellowing cruel litanies, the crowd was nipping at her heels in an instant. Pushing her legs further than they were ever meant to go, she tore down the street and ducked into familiar alleys that once held campus housing – zigging, zagging, and praying that the next turn wouldn’t take her straight into the mob. When the shouting fell far enough behind, she turned sharply and dove past a set of dangling double doors that led to the science wing of the Canterlot Academy of Sciences.

Her hooves echoing past the empty lecture halls of the condemned complex, she came to an abrupt halt when she passed a room she knew so well, stopping there was practically automatic. A thought struck her, and she peered hesitantly within.

The laboratory didn’t look much different, but only because it was always a mess to begin with. Cabling, tools, and electronics mingled freely with crumbled debris from the walls and ceiling. A desk that had succumbed to the machinations of a statue from the art studio on the second floor lay in ruins, with notepads and books scattered all about. Quantum stood in the doorway. Moreso than the dorm, or even Baltimare…this place had been her home. She’d spent the majority of her waking hours for the past four years here, ignoring dorm parties, social gatherings, and anything else she wasn’t absolutely obliged to attend. Fitting, she thought, that she should find herself back again.

Salty tears still stinging her eyes, she walked into the room with a commanding gait. This was her abode, and it was the last place she could claim any semblance of control in her life. She passed by a heavy lever embedded in the floor, kicking it without pause. At once, a tall, cold device resembling a stand-up shower with innumerable circuit boards and cables attached to it began to glow with an artificial blue light. The dead quiet of the room was replaced by a gentle, soothing hum.

Caring for the pony who most cared for you in life, no matter who they were or what they did…maybe Princess Twilight Sparkle meant something different, but that was how Quantum Trots interpreted the ‘Magic of Friendship’. Quantum helped her mother destroy most of Canterlot, and despite how horrible it made her feel inside, she knew she’d do it again if her flesh and blood begged for her help. That couldn’t be allowed to happen.

Quantum stared at the device. With all the equipment attached to it, the amalgamated, steel-grey tube took up most of the room. It was her life’s work. Brushing off the dusty nameplate, she read the word she had engraved there. Accelerator.

In crude magic marker, that word was crossed out, and overtop of it was scribbled ‘Quantum Vault’.

“Tissy…” Quantum smiled. “I never wanted to call it that. But you and Hal insisted. Where are you right now, I wonder?” Thoughtfully, Quantum trotted over to the desk and sifted under it, coming up with a framed photograph in her teeth. She sat it down on the floor and eyed it. Three ponies were in the picture. One was Quantum, her cheeks inlaid with a grin so broad she wondered if it was real. The other was a deep wine-colored mare with a foofy, powdery blue mane, and the third was a burnt-orange Pegasus stallion with a turtleneck, a pocket protector, and a ‘cool guy’ grin.

“Dorks,” Quantum said affectionately to the photo. “I don’t know where you both are, but I know where you should be. You should be in that mob. It’s the right place to be.” Her eyes rolled back to the device, “But I bet you’re not. So all I have to do know is save everypony the trouble of dealing with me.”

Four years ago when she first began her studies at the Canterlot Academy of Sciences, Quantum Trots was told a story by none other than the Princess of Friendship, whom she found herself in the illustrious presence of for the first time. It was a story about a magic mirror that led to another reality, where ponies walked, talked, and lived their lives a different way. It wasn’t so much the place that Quantum found fascinating, as it was the idea that it was possible to reach other realities at all. At the time, she had been full of the zeal of a student without a problem to work on. Being neither royal nor important she gave up hope of ever actually seeing the fabled mirror early on, but that didn’t matter. The seed was already planted in her mind. Four years later, the ‘Quantum Vault Accelerator’ was nearing its first test run. That was just before Quantum’s world went straight to Hell.

Quantum ran her hoof along the metal skin of the purring giant before her, musing aloud. “The rules at C.A.S. say you have to work towards the betterment of ponykind. Being able to share our experiences with other worlds must have been the right idea, or they never would have funded this project,” Quantum said to the machine. “And you would never have been born.”

As if in response, a shrill chime rang out from a control panel on the device. Quantum approached the Accelerator and touched it almost lovingly, shutting the sound down. “Shhh….” She cooed, “I know. And I’m sorry. If you see the princess again, or…or anypony…can you tell them that for me?”

A sheet of blue-white fire rose from the pit of the metallic beast, waiting patiently. With a grunt, Quantum Trots Lulamoon, her glasses blurry from tears and her worn out soul slung over her shoulder, launched herself directly into it.

The empty room hummed peacefully.

Prologue 3 - A Hoof for a Hoof

DATE UNKNOWN

LOCATION UNKNOWN

Light.

In every direction, on every plane, there was light. Blinding. Gleaming. Infinite. The cardinal directions had no meaning, and up had no more distinction from down as left had to right. Every horizon was the same, and every path led to nothing.

In the center of nothing, a small, mint-coated mare was regaining consciousness.

Quantum Trots clamored up on shaky hooves that weren’t quite awake enough to keep her steady. Nearly falling twice, she caught herself and let out a series of raspy, throaty coughs. She couldn’t feel her glasses resting on the bridge of her muzzle - squinting her eyelids down to mere slivers against the light, she looked around for the blasted hulk the Accelerator had almost certainly been reduced to. When she found nothing, she expanded her horizons to the workshop, the school, the campus, and eventually all of Canterlot.

It was all gone. Every last spire, vista, and hanging palisade.

“Hello…?” Quantum called, perking up her ear in hopes of a response. Not only was there no reply, but her voice didn’t echo as it passed across the apparitional landscape. The sound was simply swallowed whole by the void.

Quantum cantered in every direction and even tried galloping a few times, but it made no difference. There was nothing to get closer to, nor farther away from. The minty mare pawed at the ground. Inspecting it, she found that whatever was below her was no different than what was above. She could just as easily be standing on a ceiling as a floor.

“What is this?” She mused aloud. “Am I dead?” She pictured the unstable, untested machine she threw herself into exploding along with the rest of the room, and shuddered at the idea that the blue flames had consumed her. The gruesome thought prompted her to check her flanks, tail, and under her hooves for singes. She found no damage. When she looked up again, she found she was no longer alone.

A figure stood where before there had been nothing. Wrapped from crown to pastern in robes so white they were nearly indistinguishable from the light, a tall, broad being waited patiently before her.

“Hello?” She repeated with no small sense of alarm.

Nothing.

The being stood so still it could just as well have been a statue. It had hooves like a pony peeking out from under its robes, but even as Quantum stared at them, she realized she couldn’t make out a color. Not even white. She blinked several times to dismiss possible plays of the light, but the implausible situation persisted. Beyond the robed pony’s hood was nothing more than a pitch black void – stark contrast to everything else in this place. Quantum swallowed when she laid eyes on the fathomless depths that revealed neither muzzle nor snout.

“Are you…death?” she ventured. “Is that it? Am I dead?”

Your blood pumps still

The voice, neither stallion nor mare, seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was in her head and all around her; filling the gaps left between the horizon and infinity like caulk. There was no reason to assume it had come from the being, save for the fact that the being was the only possibly living thing, or thing of any kind, that could have produced it.

“…can you tell me where I am? What happened to the workshop? What happened to the city?”

The moment approaches

“What?” Quantum blinked and took a step away from the being, whose robes had begun to bluster despite the absence of wind. “What moment? What’s happening?”

Quantum’s ears swiveled. On the horizon, there was a sound. It began as distant thunder, but rolled in so quickly and so powerfully that she had no choice but to bend her neck and cover her ears with her hooves. When she saw the ground (or maybe it was the sky) warp and rise up before her, crashing in like a tsunami, she shut her eyes and screamed for her life.

When she opened her eyes, things were different.

The landscape was back to normal, but there was a cacophony of chattering voices. They whispered, cavorted, shouted and caterwauled, but Quantum found she couldn’t make out a single word. Behind the white clad pony now stood dozens of black silhouettes – outlines of other ponies without substance or form. They moved wildly, raising their limbs and pointing at her, but it was more like seeing solid shadows standing up on their own. The white ‘pony’ cocked its head, and the crowd fell silent.

“…who are they?” Quantum asked fearfully. She was no expert on the afterlife, but there couldn’t be anything good about these new beings. Where their eyes should have been, there were only holes going right through them; every point of light emanating from beyond their sockets was focused directly on her.

The many come

“Many..?” Quantum echoed. “What…what do they want?”

An ear for an ear

A hoof for a hoof

Quantum felt a chill. Each black shadow resembled a pony – stallions and mares, colts and fillies…even foals. A thought struck her. An abominable, terrifying…and perfectly logical thought.

“The ponies…I hurt.” She theorized meekly.

A cost must be paid

Quantum felt her heart slide into her stomach. She took another step away, but found that there was nowhere to go. She and the white being were surrounded on all sides by the jeering, accusing masses. Quantum lowered herself to her knees and shut her eyes, willing this bad dream to just go away.

“D-don’t hurt me…” she pleaded. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry. Please…”

But none of the shadows drew close enough to rend the minty mare to pieces. Instead, the voice spoke.

The choice is made. You have been judged and sentenced.

The white pony lifted its colorless foreleg. Quantum heard a chinking noise, and watched as the dampening sheath on her horn, that shouldn’t have been removable except by the strongest of magicks, floated away and disintegrated to nothing on the nonexistent breeze.

Quantum Trots Lulamoon. You will pay for every life destroyed by rebuilding another. That is the behest of this tribunal of your peers. Succeed, and you will be redeemed. Fail, and you will never know the peace of death.

Before Quantum could ask what the cryptic announcement meant, a single shadow moved into the circle. It was nothing more than a silhouette like all the others, but Quantum thought she could make out a straw hat on the being’s head, and the outline of a cottontail reed dangling from where its mouth should be.

Violently, the black shadow pony reared up and emitted a whinny so piercing it should have obliterated Quantum’s eardrums instantly.

And that was all she heard.

1.1 - Gone Country

September 28, 2008

Sweet Apple Acres

Sunday

Quantum bolted upright in bed. Her scream died in her throat the minute she gained consciousness. Staring straight ahead, she felt under her body to make sure she hadn’t lost the remainder of her mind.

Definitely a bed.

A bed, a quaint little room, and an open window with a fresh autumn breeze. Every surface was made from rustic wooden planks, and these were adorned with all manner of homey decorations. A vanity with a mirror stood against one wall opposite a solid dresser. Fresh linens, smelling of lavender, were neatly folded at the end of the bed. A cozy looking quilt, embroidered with images of flowers and fruit, lay draped across Quantum’s knees.

Moments ago the mint-coated mare had been quite certain ghosts of ponies she’d probably killed in a conflagration at Equestria’s capital city were about to exact their revenge on her. Now, a view from a nearby window showed a pleasant morning, a bright red barn, and trees full of ripe, juicy looking apples. Quantum’s stomach rumbled just looking at them. It had been some time since she’d seen fruit that wasn’t mashed into a brown, processed paste.

Quantum was shocked back to reality by a sudden clopping at the room’s only door. A high-pitched, immature voice muffled through the wood.

“Sis? You a’raight in there?”

Quantum scanned the room to make certain she was indeed the only pony present. The voice persisted.

“Ima come in, kay? Sorry if yer asleep or sumthin’…”

The door began to creak open. Eyes wide, Quantum immediately dove under the quilt, pulling it up over her head until there was room for nothing but an eye slit. This she peered through, half expecting a colorless shadow monster to bound into the room, cackling and tearing at her.

Instead, a sweet looking filly with no cutie mark trotted into the room. Far from frightening, the child had a lovely shade of amber to her lively eyes, a pale yellow coat, and a large pink bow tied in her reddish mane. Quantum relaxed a bit at the unassuming sight and closed her eye, faking sleep.

“Still sleepin’ huh?” The filly said, her eyelashes turned up with concern. “Ya poor thing. Flu ain’t no fun’t all. Granny Smith made up some’a her ‘get better’ soup. You ‘member that stuff? Smells a’fright, but sure makes ya feel all fuzzy inside.” The filly grinned, “Ah’ll bring ya up some later.”

Quantum said nothing, but she made the mistake of crackling her eyelid to see if the filly was still standing there. Yelping at the muzzle mere inches away from her own, she sat up in bed, letting the quilt fall away.

The filly’s smile never broke. She simply nodded approvingly. “Well, yer reflexes are lookin’ good anyway. Bet yer temp’s still up though. How ya feelin’?”

Quantum stared stupidly at the child until she made a face.

“You a’ight sis?”

“M-me…?” Quantum pointed at herself. The filly giggled.

“A’course you! I ain’t related to the wall, ya know!” The filly nabbed the quilt, and before Quantum could grab hold, yanked it clear off the bed. “Dunno what you were thinkin’, but wrappin’ yerself up in this ain’t good. ‘sides,” She giggled again, “There’s so many oranges on it we might just loose ya!”

Quantum looked down at her foreleg. Still a minty shade of blue green. She watched as the filly took to unfolding the linens and remaking the bed, with Quantum still in it.

“There now,” the filly said, “yer all wrapped up just enough. Ah should prolly get back downstairs. Big day ya know. But don’tcha worry – ah’ll come in and check on ya whenever I can!” She looked up at Quantum with big, innocent eyes. “Anythin’ ya need? Hungry?”

Quantum shook her head. Her empty stomach called her a liar.

The filly just nodded. “Ah’ll get ya somethin’. Back in two shakes!” With that, the child trotted out of the room at a ginger pace. Quantum was left alone in bed, too dumbfounded to move until the little one returned, balancing a bowl and saucer in her teeth and a folding tray on her back. In an instant, the tray was lying across quantum’s knees, and the steaming bowl was releasing its payload into her nostrils.

It smelled like a gallon of milk that had been sitting for a week. In the sun. In July. With cough medicine mixed into it. Quantum tried, and failed, to suppress a gacking noise.

The filly giggled again, as was apparently her habit. “Aw, don’tcha fret. You know’s well as ah do, it tastes better’n it smells! Here,” she picked up a spoon with her teeth, filled it with the curious brew, and offered it to Quantum, talking out of the side of her mouth (which only made her thick drawl that much more difficult to comprehend). “Yeeaw neef sum helf?”

Quantum looked at the spoon. Then the filly. Then the spoon again. Finally finding enough composure to speak, she opened her mouth – and instantly found it filled with the foulest smelling…tastiest soup/stew-like concoction she’d ever had the pleasure to sample. Abandoning decorum in favor of satisfying her hunger, she buried her muzzle shamelessly in the bowl and fed. She heard the filly’s laughter, but didn’t care enough to watch her mosey out of the room.

“You eat hearty!” She young one called. “Ah’ll come back later. Biggest days of the year comin’ up ‘round these parts!”

Eight minutes later Quantum came up for air. She was actually surprised to see nothing had changed – more than half of her was expecting to see cold cell walls, as had greeted her after every meal for the last three weeks. It took biting herself and then finally slipping out of bed to wander around the room before she was convinced the scene wasn’t either an illusion or delusion. The floors were solid. The walls were straight. The mirror was…

…wrong.

Quantum stopped cold. She batted her eyelids, smiled six different ways, and played peek-a-boo with herself. The image in the mirror matched her move for move. It was her reflection…but it also wasn’t. The mare in the mirror was orange, with emerald eyes to contrast Quantum’s sapphire ones. The image’s mane was longer and far better kept than Quantum’s sea green tones; blonde and free from frizz, split ends, or the general wildness borne of prison neglect. It took hiding throughout the room and then trying to jump out on the image several times before Quantum believed it wasn’t some sort of trick. She looked down at herself. Still minty fresh.

Bewildered, Quantum took to inspecting her surroundings in greater detail. The hallway was just as rustic as the bedroom – clearly this place was not downtown Fillydelphia. Photos on the walls ranged in age from sepia prints that looked a century old, to images containing the filly who had served her lunch…and the orange mare from the mirror. Quantum rubbed a bit of dust from a low-hanging frame containing a panoramic view of scores of ponies standing outside a barn, and read the inscription.

Apple Family Reunion – 2007

“Apple…?” She asked the air. The word was what she was missing. The identity of the orange mare with the cowfilly hat and the apple-based cutie mark hit her like a bale of hay to the back of the neck.

“Applejack?” She mused aloud. “One of the Keepers of the Elements of Harmony.” She tapped Applejack’s image with the tip of her hoof. “Princess Twilight introduced me to you at a festival in Canterlot. Is this your house? But…” she glanced around at the rest of the images on the wall, her analytical mind drawing immediate attention to a curious fact. “…but why no recent pictures? I barely recognized you at such a young age. If this is Applejack’s house—”

“What’sa matter sis?” A familiar voice rang out, “Fergit which cousin ya were on the way to the bathroom?”

Quantum blinked, slowly turning to find the same pale yellow filly standing at the top of a landing with stairs leading down. Quantum removed her hoof from the image of Applejack. “Uh…no? I mean no! I mean…” she looked around and then grinned sheepishly, “…where’s the bathroom again?”

The frustratingly-nameless filly made a face. Walking straight up to Quantum, she reached out and placed her hoof on the older mare’s forehead. Quantum flinched.

“Sis, you sound funny. Ah’ll help ye wash up.”

“No!” Quantum insisted. “I’m…just fine, thanks. I already, uh…went.”

The filly grinned and patted Quantum’s withers, “And ye didn’t even fall in! Great job sis! Now you need t’git back t’bed, kay?”

“I’m fine, really…”

The filly shook her head, “No ya ain’t, and big sis or not, you ain’t arguin’ with me. Y’nearly fergot where the bathroom was and yer talkin’ like yer fresh off the cart from Manehatten or some such place. Ah bet y’don’t even remember mah name right now.”

Quantum stared. The filly rolled her eyes.

“Applebloom!” She squealed impudently. “Yer sister! Geez, you really are sick…”

Quantum allowed herself to be led back into the bedroom. It was just as she had left it…with the addition of a burnt-orange pegasus stallion wearing a pocket protector and a horribly gaudy turtleneck, standing in the center of the room.

“Hal!” Quantum brightened, “Am I glad to see you!” Eyes widening, the pegasus made a feverish series of cut-throat gestures.

“Whut?” Applebloom glanced about the room, bewildered. “Sis, ah’m sorry I ain’t cleaned yer room up yet today, but there’s no need t’be rude ‘bout it. This ain’t Hell.”

“Hal!” Quantum repeated, brushing Applebloom off and approaching the pegasus, who was now waving his hooves in the air frantically. “You’ve got to help me! I jumped in the Accelerator…and well, I know I shouldn’t have, but…i-it’s a long story, and there was this white pony and he was really scary, but then there were shadows yelling at me, and I couldn’t get away, and my mom…is my mom okay? And now I’m here, and I’m Applejack, but I’m not Applejack, and…and what’s going on??”

The elaborately-dressed pegasus slapped himself in the forehead and sighed deeply. Applebloom spoke up.

“Sis, yer scarin’ me now. Lay down, or so help me ah’ll get Big McIntosh to hog tie ya into that bed.”

“Huh?” Quantum stood aside to give the little filly a good view of the new arrival. “No really, you don’t understand. This is Hal…he’s a friend of mine. I’m not your sister. Well,” she glanced in the mirror, a vexed Applejack glancing back, “I guess I somehow look like your sister to you, but I’m not orange, see?” Quantum held up her foreleg. Applebloom wore a somewhat less than bemused expression and pointed sharply at the bed.

“Bed. Raight now. Ah’m callin’ th’doctor, and y’all are goin’ into town to see him this afternoon.”

“B-but—”

“B-E-D.”

Meekly, the elder mare obeyed the little filly and slid into bed. When Applebloom finally left, Quantum rolled over and fixed the toasty-colored pegasus with a fiery gaze.

“What, you couldn’t say hello? Are you invisible or something?”

Hal sniffed and rubbed his muzzle with a hoof. “As a matter of fact, yes I am. Good job, now she thinks you’re coltcrap crazy. And what’s that smell? It’s making me want to sneeze.”

Quantum indicated the remnants of lunch on the nightstand. “Granny’s ‘get better’ soup. Tastes better than it smells. And I call BS. I can see you just fine.”

Hal sat his ample rump down on a hope chest and whipped a device that somewhat resembled a calculator out from his pocket protector, examining it in lieu of eye contact. “Yes, but you’re the only one. I’m not actually here. I’m a projection from the Accelerator’s holo-matrix.” He made a show out of reaching directly through the wall, “Remember the failsafe routines? If something goes wrong, we have a way of seeing firsthoof what sort of trouble a dimensional traveling pony is in without having to risk anypony else.”

Quantum bapped herself. “Right, right…I remember now. The system scans the traveler’s molecular structure and projects an image attuned to that structure, so only the traveler can perceive the hologram.”

“There ya go.”

Quantum rolled over in bed. “So something went wrong, huh?”

“Are you kidding?” Hal replied, bapping at his device with the tip of a hoof, “it would take far less time telling you what went right. What in Equestria were you thinking? We hadn’t even tested the Accelerator yet. It could just as easily have torn your atoms apart and scattered them across half the continent. Do you have a deathwish?”

Wordlessly, Quantum nodded. For a time, the sound in the room was reduced to only the soprano tinkling of a tiny windchime by the windowsill. Hal spoke first.

“You still have friends, you know. Me and Tissy.”

“Then you’re both crazy,” Quantum accused. “All you have to do is rig the pattern enhancers to dissipate and hit the recall control. Then the world will be rid of one less criminal psychopath.”

“Do you like hurting ponies?”

Quantum sat up in bed and fixed Hal with a withering glare. “What in Starswirl’s beard is that supposed to mean? Of course not!”

“Then you’re not a criminal psychopath,” Hal returned. “As a matter of fact, I’m willing to bet you didn’t even set that bomb.”

“I’ll take that bet, since I was kinda there when it happened.”

Hal treated lightly. “Cutie…why?”

“Because I love my mother,” Quantum replied. “I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t expect anypony to understand. I interpret the magic of friendship in my own way and I’m not going to justify it to you. Now are you going to tell me how it’s possible for the Accelerator to make me appear to everypony as though I’m somepony else?”

Hal let the subject drop. As he tapped keys on his device, it lit up in myriad bright colors, and beep-booping noises could be heard. “Still working on that one. But I can tell you one thing. While you’re here, you can make the best of it.”

Quantum raised her brow. Hal kept tapping.

“Tissy says you not only broke the dimensional barrier, you broke the time barrier. Congrats. It’s 2008 right now, and you’re on a farm in Ponyville called Sweet Apple Acres.”

“Great. I love cider.”

“Not what I meant.” Hal examined his device closely, “Tissy managed to triangulate this location in spacetime with a series of temporal causality strings. Basically she can garner a decent idea of what could happen here in the future, based on the actions you take now.”

Exasperation was clear on Quantum’s face. “She did what? That’s impossible.”

“She’s Tissy.”

“Hal,” Quantum shook her head, “Tissy once tried to fuel the Accelerator with a mixture of Uranium-234 and a rutabaga. It blew up.”

Hal shrugged. “We rebuilt it. And it was two rutabagas. You’re forgetting, it actually worked for 6.58 seconds. Cutie, you and I are smart. Tissy’s a savant. To be that brilliant, it’s practically a requirement to be six or seven quarks short of a quasar. Now do you actually want to know how you can make the best out of being here?”

Quantum nodded, “Why not I guess?”

Hal hesitated, his expression softening. “Applejack has the flu. The next three days are harvest time on this farm, and Sweet Apple Acres is a critical supplier to all the major cities of Equestria. Right now, other than you, there’s a filly, an aged nag, and a single draft pony living here. Without Applejack, there’s a—” he checked his screen, “…a sixty-seven percent chance that the harvest will fail. That sets off the apple famine of 2009, which not only leads to starvation and mass hysteria, but causes Twilight Sparkle to be called away to other duties the following year. She never comes to Ponyville. No Elements of Harmony. See where I’m going with this? Oh, and Tissy says there’s another twelve percent chance on top of that the earth ponies will try to cover it up by blaming the pegasi for bad weather conditions, who in turn will blame the unicorns for not finding a way to magic the harvest into completion, and that,” Hal paused to take a breath, “will pretty much rip apart society as we know it and plunge us back into the dark ages. Charming, isn’t it?”

Quantum looked unconvinced. “Come on…all of that because one pony got sick?”

“Ever heard of Chaos theory?” Hal retorted.

“Well, I feel fine. So I guess I could go buck some apples or something.”

Hal chuckled dryly. “Yeah, like you know a thing about apple-bucking that’s going to put you on par with the one pony in Equestria that’s the most famous for the skill. Besides, we have no idea how long you’ll remain at this point in spacetime. If you go out there and start working the fields, you might vault away. Tissy says there’s an eighty-nine percent chance that Applejack will stick it out if placed in a position like that…and then she’ll die from overexertion.”

Quantum’s cocky grin faded. “So...where is Applejack now?”

“No idea. Tissy has a theory about you that might help answer both questions though. The most likely scenario is that the Accelerator malfunctioned by accelerating your molecules too much. You reached the point where you could break the spacetime barrier, but then you went beyond it. Your entire body basically became a tuning rod for the flow of dimensions. We can’t know what effect that will have, but it does mean that there’s a good chance that you’ll just poof away from here and end up at some other random point in a different time, or a different reality altogether. We can’t even be certain the events happening in the here and now are even a part of our own timestream, or would have any effect on it. That molecular attunement means that, at least while you’re vaulting, you travel through spacetime until your form latches onto an anchor in the form of stable molecules similar to you own – in other words, another pony. You then phase into that pony’s life, and assume control of it until the tide goes out and you’re pulled away again. The host consciousness probably just gets repressed. Like being possessed by a ghost or something. And before you ask, with your molecules in such an unstable condition, just bopping the recall control is almost guaranteed to kill you.”

Quantum could feel her eyeballs spinning. “Tissy has been busy.”

Hal nodded. “We have no idea if this reality is or own, or can affect our own. My suggestion? Do something about it anyway. If you find a way to change the events Tissy’s matrix is predicting and it turns out they made no difference either way, we lose nothing. If you don’t do anything and this is our reality, a whole mess of ponies are going to suffer. The same if it’s somepony else’s reality.”

“Ponies have already suffered because of me,” Quantum mumbled.

“If that’s really true,” Hal shot back, “then here’s your chance to atone for it.”

Quantum shrank. The white pony. The shadows. Is this what they meant? If she failed here…what would happen?

“So are you in?”

The minty mare paused for a long time. Finally, she nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Hal grinned. “Sit tight. I’ll see what else I can find out. Meanwhile, play along. Be the best hayseed you can be, look sick, keep your eyes and ears peeled for a solution, claim you were delirious with fever a few minutes ago, and for Celestia’s sake, learn bumpkin-talk. You sound ridiculous. Slur your vowels, say ‘y’all’ a lot, and make up half a dozen emergency farm metaphors.”

Hal pressed a button on his control, and a rectangle full of white light opened behind him. Quantum stopped him before he stepped through it.

“…how are you even allowed to help me? No matter what you think of me, the law still says I’m an enemy of the state. Princess Celestia would never allow aiding and abetting a—”

“Princess Celestia doesn’t know. Princess Twilight does.”

Quantum watched her friend step through the pane of rectangular light. It swung closed like a door, erasing itself from existence. She was alone again.

The breeze felt a little chilly.

1.2 - Call Me in the Morning

September 28, 2008

Ponyville

Sunday Afternoon

Two hours later, Quantum found herself rolling into a rural community she’d never visited before; traveling in the back of a wagon pulled by a large red draft pony. She’d tried to walk but was shouted down almost instantly by Applebloom – remembering Hal’s advice, Quantum didn’t argue the point. The wide-brimmed cowfilly hat made her mane itch and prompted her to constantly flick her ears, but so far, so good. The pale yellow filly was trotting along beside the cart. Quantum tried to start up a conversation.

“So, uhm, Apple—I mean…lil’ sis. I-if…n you-ye…er…ye’re here and that…that thar draft pony’s here, who be doin’ thearr harvest?”

Applebloom looked up. “Whut? Sis, you sound like a pirate.”

Quantum sighed inwardly. How do ponies communicate like this? She tried again, “Ah meeean….you an’ him,” she pointed at the red pony, who was cantering along without any indication that he was paying attention. Applebloom followed the gesture.

“Big McIntosh? What’sa matter with him?”

Whew, Quantum thought, free info. “Well, just…if’n yeee’re here an’ so is Big McIntosh…” she thought for a second, “…is…uh Granny Smith takin’ care of the harvest?”

Applebloom laughed openly. “Aw c’mon sis. Ye know gramma ain’t got the same giddy in her up no more. She makes the best dern fritters this side’a the family line, but she ain’t seriously bucked no apple trees for years. Not with her hip like that.”

Quantum listened to the rhythmic squeaking of the cart wheels. “Then who’s harvesting apples?”

Applebloom looked crestfallen. She bowed her head. “…nopony. I-it’s just the first day though, raight? We’ll…we’ll git caught up tomorrah.”

Quantum tried to smile the melancholy away, “What you’re saying is you need ‘mah hep’, raighty?”

The pale filly shook her head vigorously and wore a smile so fake, it didn’t take magic to see right through it. “No! We’re just fine! Ye’re sick, and seein’ that family is ok comes first. Big Mac can buck apples just fine. Ah can…umm…pull the cart. Yeah.”

Quantum fell silent, thinking of her mother. Family did indeed come first. If only this innocent little filly, who was actually a number of years older than Quantum and in no physical way up to the task of pulling a cartful of apples, knew just how poignant that sentiment was.

The dirt path widened, eventually opening into an unpaved street through the middle of a quaint, colorful town. Businesses and shops were in full swing. Ponies of all shapes and sizes were meandering about, and Quantum had to fake greetings to a number of ponies she couldn’t identify. The only quiet building was the library. Hewn from the trunk of a large tree, it cast a forlorn shadow, and was in need of a loving touch.

The examination was uneventful. Quantum turned her head and coughed when she was told to, failed miserably with eye charts (she hadn’t been able to figure out what happened to her glasses since she found herself in Applejack’s bed), and yelped in the face of a cold stethoscope, much to the chagrin of the doctor’s ears. She was nearly found out when she tried to levitate a syringe that the doctor left lying uncomfortably close to her pasterns. She ended up having to drop it and let it shatter, claiming she knocked it over by accident. By the end of the checkup, ‘Applejack’ was declared thoroughly and without a doubt sick out of her mind.

On the way back through town, Quantum sat quietly in the apple cart and considered her problem. Two and a half days left, and as far as she could tell, not a tree on the whole acreage had been tended to. Even for a laypony like her, it seemed a nigh impossible task, and these ponies thought they were going to pull it off without Applejack. She glanced down at Applebloom, who didn’t notice she was looking. The look on the filly’s face made Quantum feel like she was riding in a hearse carriage.

No, Quantum thought to herself, pulling it off isn’t what they’re thinking at all. They know they don’t have a chance.

The cart came to an abrupt and jarring halt. Quantum craned her neck to see what was going on, and her eye fell on a rather stylish looking white unicorn with an immaculately kept violet mane and long eyelashes. She was hitched up to a cart of her own, though hers was far too small even for a filly to ride in, and was adorned with dainty jewels that accessorized well with the three blue gems that made up her cutie mark. Applebloom trotted ahead and engaged the newcomer, who wasn’t having much luck talking to Big McIntosh. The red draft pony was apparently a stallion of few words.

“Hi Rarity,” Applebloom began, squinting, “Y’look as frazzled as mah granny’s mane after half a day of sleep. What’sa matter?”

Quantum’s eyes widened. Two fabled element keepers in as many days? Had it been thirty years in the future she would have been honored to meet Rarity. Now, she was just plain nervous. Rarity, somehow managing to look pale despite her coloring, spoke up.

“Applebloom, sweetheart, have you seen any of the craftsponies in the marketplace today? I can’t find a single one, and I swear I’m going to go grey if I don’t get my hooves on somepony who knows a bobbin winder from a thread guide!”

Applebloom shook her head, “Sorry Rarity, can’t help ye. Ain’t seen a one of ‘em today i’tall.”

Rarity threw up her hooves dramatically, “How can they all be missing!?”

Applebloom rubbed her chin in thought. “Wasn’t there s’posed to be a trades convention out of town this week? Ah don’t remember where, but apples to oranges you’d find ‘em there.”

“Eeeyup,” Big Mac added thoughtfully.

“A-all of them?” Rarity sputtered. She looked so despondent, Quantum thought the white fashionista’s expertly deployed mascara might start to run. “What am I supposed to do now?” She gestured to her cart with a wide wave of a foreleg, “I have half a dozen orders to fill today! I can’t do them all by hoof, and my sewing machine and I aren’t on speaking terms!”

Applebloom shrugged apologetically, “Gee, ah’m awful sorry to hear that, but well, we’re kinda in a hurry to git back to th’farm, so—”

“Applejack?”

Quantum blinked. The embodiment of the element of generosity was staring right at her. She couldn’t help but blush as Rarity trotted over.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Rarity asked, genuine concern in her voice. “Isn’t it crunch time at the farm this week? You look positively dreadful!”

Quantum rolled her eyes and avoided a ‘gee thanks’ response. “Iaahm fine,” she drew, “Ah meean, ah been worse, yee know? I-I mean,” she forced herself to cough, “guess mebbe ah ain’t so well as a wildcat on Sunday after all, huh?”

The minty mare wondered if there was somepony, somewhere on the street, that wasn’t giving her a strange look. She shrank, cursing herself inwardly. Rarity blinked.

“O-oookay, well…you poor thing. Get well soon, okay?”

“Don’t mind mah sister,” Applebloom replied. “She’s lost a’couple spokes on her wagon wheel, but th’doctor says she’ll get ‘em back again soon. She just needs some rest.” She leaned in close to Rarity, quieting to a whisper, “this mornin’ she thought her bedroom was Hell, and she kept insistin’ there was a pegasus in there with her.”

“R-right,” Rarity quipped. “Well, if the three of you don’t mind, I need to do something about this infernal machine. Normally I can handle repairs myself, but whatever’s wrong with it has defied me so far, and if I don’t find some help soon, it’s going to cost me repeat business. So adieu!”

The classy white mare made to set off at a gallop, but was jerked back so hard she nearly collapsed in the dust. When everypony looked back, they found Applejack, leaning out of her wagon with her hooves wrapped around Rarity’s tied-down sewing machine. Rarity unhitched herself and stepped over, putting on an expression meant for reasoning with naughty foals.

“Dear,” she began, “Would you…mind letting go, pretty please? I promise my sewing machine isn’t a pegasus or a demon. It won’t hurt you.”

Quantum ignored the request and went about mumbling to herself. “This is just...what? Pulleys, gears…maybe a drive belt or something? Can’t be all that much to it…” Unceremoniously she bopped the release switch, opened the machine up, and set to work poking around inside.

Rarity’s jaw nearly hit the dirt. Shuddering at the appalling scene, she reached out weakly and tried to get the country pony’s attention without upsetting her fragile state of mind.

“D-darling…Applejack,” she whimpered, “please, i-it’s fine! Thank you for offering to assist me…you’re so kind, but I’m sure I’ll find some help if I just keep looking!” When Applejack showed no signs of stopping or even paying attention, Rarity nearly swooned. “Y-you know what? It’s really not even a big deal at all! What’s a couple of hems and chain stiches among clients, right? Eh heh heh…oh! And you must be feeling so awful – far be it from me to keep you from going home and getting your rest…!” She threw a terrified glance at Applebloom and whispered, “She is feeling awful, isn’t she?”

Applebloom only shrugged, staring in disbelief. “This mornin’ she fergot who she was, ah think. Caught her pointin’ at a picture of herself in the hallway an’ talkin’ like a pirate.”

“A pirate!?” Rarity’s lip began to twitch in time with the pulsing of a less-than-stylish looking vein on her forehead. She snapped back around, intent now to do whatever was necessary to keep her poor sewing machine from collapsing into a pile of parts, even if it meant having to be rude. She barely got her mouth open before she was cut off.

“There!” Quantum announced cheerfully, slamming the little access door shut. “Should be good as new now.”

The fashion-conscious white pony gaped. Without a word, she retrieved a scrap of fabric from somewhere in the cart, folded it on itself, and ran it through the machine. Levitating it up to eye level with her horn, she turned it around, inspected it, and even tried to rip it apart. The strong, straight stitch held firm.

“A-astounding!” Rarity announced, relief spreading mercifully over her muzzle. “This is marvelous! Why, this machine hasn’t produced such a perfect stich in months – I was even thinking of throwing it away!” Casting the scrap cloth aside, she nearly leapt into the wagon to throw her forelegs around Applequantum. “Darling! You simply must tell me how you did it!”

Applebloom raised a brow in Big Mac’s direction and didn’t smile. “Th’ heck just happened? Does sis know how t’fix sumthin’ like that?”

Big McIntosh held up his hooves, “Eeeyup…er…eenope?”

Quantum chuckled smartly. “Oh, it’s not really all that hard. When you see something like this as just a collection of simple machines and then break it down, it’s easy to isolate the problem and make repairs. Besides, all you basically have here is perpetual motion via a mechanical response from a series of gears, right? Any point in the sequence could go wrong, but none of them should be too tough to fix if you know what you’re looking for.”

Rarity patted Quantum roughly on the withers, the explanation going into one ear and out the other. Eagerly she hitched herself back up to her cart and started off in the direction she came, calling, “Yes, yes, wonderful! That’s just wonderful, dear! Look me up if you ever need something mended and it’s on the house! You’ve no idea how much time you’ve saved me! Simply ravishing! Goodbye now!”

The pale filly approached the apple wagon, warily eyeing her older sister, who was sitting there in a pile of hay with a self-satisfied expression. “Whut was that?”

Quantum blinked her eyes open, “Huh? What was what?”

Applebloom pointed at Rarity’s retreating form. “That! Sis, yer worth a thousand bits a minute mendin’ a fence or raisin’ a shed, but where’d you learn t’do that? An’ don’t tell me ye don’t remember who ya are or whut ye just did, ‘cause I ain’t buyin’ it.”

Quantum’s smile evaporated, and she had to stifle the urge to bap herself in the forehead. “Oh, uh…well I—‘ah’ mean, it aayin’t real tough, yee know? Like…wranglin’ a griffon?”

“I ain’t never wrangled a griffon b’fore,” Applebloom stated, her stare narrowing. “Ah’m pretty sure most of ‘em would sue if ya tried to.”

“Uh…right,” Quantum replied uncertainly. The little filly’s withering stare was bringing about panic. Quantum was just about to give up and try to explain what was really going on, when a voice chimed in.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Both ponies turned to see a middle-aged, tired looking earth stallion with a receding maneline and a disheveled tie. Behind him was a little purple foal with a huge magenta bow in her mane that was twice the size of her entire body. She was wailing like a banshee, and drawing an embarrassing amount of attention. The stallion continued.

“Excuse me miss, I’m really sorry to bother you, but I noticed just now that you seem to have a knack for machines. Could I ask you for just a moment of your time?”

“Actually,” Applebloom began, worriedly looking at the position of the sun, “ah’m sorry mister, but—”

“What’s up?” Quantum cut in.

The stallion sighed with relief and turned around to his foal. “Sweetie, can I have Mister Blister for just a second, please? There’s a good, grown up filly.” The child never broke her screaming fit, and the stallion turned back quickly. In his teeth he held a small stuffed dragon with a wind-up key stuck in the side of it, which he promptly dropped in Quantum’s lap. “I’ve been trying to find a craftspony all day to help fix my daughter’s favorite toy, but there don’t seem to be any in town today,” he sighed with frustration, “…of all the days for this to happen. I’m really sorry, but do you think you could help? We’re kind of having a meltdown here if you know what I mean.” He sighed, indicating the screaming child and the reproachful glances from parents with quieter foals. “I’ll pay you whatever, just…can you at least look at it?”

Before Applebloom could say anything, Quantum had the toy under tight scrutiny. She blinked hard and shook her head a few times – being without her glasses was starting to give her a headache, but at this distance the little plush was at least as easy to see as the sewing machine had been. Tamping the toy down with her foreleg (unicorn magic, she knew, was a bad idea), she pulled its zipper down with her teeth and set about tinkering. A few minutes later she closed the dragon up, turned its key, and balanced it on a hoof, holding it out to the tiny foal.

“Here you go sweetie,” she cooed, “The operation was a complete success, and Mister Blister is feeling fine now.”

Sure enough, the dragon was moving its legs, opening its jaw, and making growling noises. Elated, the foal forgot the shyness of youth, leapt forward, and claimed the beloved toy, cradling it like a lost loved one. The stallion smiled down at his daughter, affection shining through his weary façade as the little one retreated to spin gleefully in the streets.

“Oh miss, thank you! You have no idea…I was ready to just take the thing and, w-well—” The stallion digressed, “Anyway, what do I owe you? I insist!”

Quantum had to politely refuse the offer of money several times before the stallion departed, again offering his gratitude. Applebloom smiled softly.

“Gee sis, that was raight nice, doin’ that,” just as quickly her smile faded and she looked worriedly between her older sister and the new position of the sun in the western sky. “But that still don’t explain what ye’re gettin’ at today, and yikes! We gotta git back to th’farm!” She trotted ahead, “C’mon now!”

Big McIntosh tried to move, but it was no use. Dozens of ponies were now swarming the cart, going on about the lack of repairs and beseeching Quantumjack for her services. The minty mare could hardly refuse without galloping away; an idea she decided was poorly contrived considering her bout with the ‘flu’.

The family wagon didn’t pass under the Sweet Apple Acres welcome sign until sunset.

1.3 - Night Games

September 28-29, 2008

Sweet Apple Acres

Sunday Evening - Monday Morning

Dinner was a solemn affair. Strange looks and lack of conversation from the Apple family cost Quantum most of her appetite, despite the discovery of a number of bits that had been thrown into the wagon by grateful blue-collar ponies. After the meal, the minty mare was whisked away to Applejack’s bedroom to the tune of smiles, get-well wishes, and an atmosphere that felt like a wake. When she was quite sure the last light had been put out, she crept out of bed, slithered out into the cold autumn night, and rolled the barn door open. A momentary flash of white light mingled with the rays of the full moon that lit her path.

“What are you doing?” A familiar voice from behind asked, “Just because you’re not really sick doesn’t mean you don’t need rest.”

Quantum kept stubbornly to her task of poking through the danker, dustier corners of the sturdy building. “What do you mean ‘what am I doing’? You said I need to come up with a solution, so I’m coming up with one.”

Hal sighed, beep-booping away on his control panel. “I said to play along. Do you know what you just did today? Now Tissy says there’s a seventy-nine point five percent chance that Applejack won’t get better for another week because of what you put her body through. And your drawl is so bad it sounds like you’re doing it on purpose.”

“I am doing it on purpose,” Quantum huffed.

“You sound like you’re doing it badly on purpose!” Hal retorted, tugging on his broad collar, “Even I can throw out enough ‘y’alls’ and ‘reckons’ to fake it for at least a little while!”

Quantum squinted hard against the moonlight, bumping into or tripping over another unknown object with every step. Hal frowned and leaned up against the barn door.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing? Because if this is charades, I’d have to come up with the answer ‘potentially killing the elemental keeper of honesty before she even obtains her element.’ And by the way, if you’re still thinking about going out to work the fields yourself, Tissy was able to confirm that whatever you do to yourself physically will, in fact, affect the pony you’re standing in for.”

The minty mare ignored the sour quip and continued about her investigation, finally brightening when she came across a sledgehammer and some scrap wood. “If I can’t buck apples, I’ll build something that can.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Quantum flicked her ear in annoyance and glanced back at Hal, balancing the hammer against her flank. “Why not? If I can’t pull this off their way, then why shouldn’t I do it my way?

“I dunno,” Hal commented drolly, “maybe because you’re supposed to be a very sick country earth pony right now, and not a scrawny unicorn tinker-geek who would rather find more complicated ways to do things then just listen?” He pinched the bridge of his stout muzzle between two hooves and stretched his wings. “Do you plan to explain to the Apple family how you suddenly came across whatever miracle apple-harvesting machine you think you’re about to build? And even if you somehow pull this off in one night, have you considered what effect you’re having on the life of the pony you’re inhabiting?” The beep-booping noise started up again, “There, you see? Now there’s a zero point six eight percent chance that in three weeks, the mayor of Ponyville is going to ask Applejack to engineer a dam for a nearby river, and when it explodes from lack of proper design a month later, all of Ponyville will be flooded straight out of existence! And in the time it took me to tell you that, it just became a zero point seven one percent chance!”

Quantum blinked. “Wow, Tissy’s fast.”

“Yes she is.” Hal looked up from his device and raised his eyelids apologetically. “Cutie…I know you’re trying and I know this is frustrating, but you have to come up with something else. You’ve got to play the game the way it’s laid out, or even success is just going to lead to a band-aid that some other event in the future will tear off. And by the way—can you tell me why I’m now reading an alteration in this timeline that shows Rarity finishing her client’s requests for the month?”

Quantum explained the events of the afternoon in detail with a smug smile. Hal only shook his head sadly.

“Cutie…Rarity was supposed to fail to meet that deadline, at least as far as Tissy can tell.” Hal booped his device again, examining it, “There was a ninety-four point five percent chance that she’d lose the business, but in her rush to get the items to her clients, she’d be noticed on the street by a high-class visitor from Manehatten who pays her quadruple for the unsold items and offers her a contract for more. Now that number still exists, but it’s pointing to a misunderstanding as to what her clients wanted, which still costs her the business and saddles her with a blacklisting that lasts three months, until she can get ponies to trust in her work again.”

Quantum slumped her shoulders and averted her eyes to the dirt, her smug smile burning away in an instant. “I…I didn’t know. Maybe I can fix it,” she reasoned, but Hal barred her way to the door.

“Don’t bother. The events are already in motion and there’s nothing you can do to change them in the time available.” the gaze of his steely amber eyes bore into his classmate. “The consequences of failure for Sweet Apple Acres are worse for society than what you did to Rarity, so you’re going to have to accept that and keep your mind on the greater good. And you need to stop trying to innovate your way out of this problem. I don’t know how to solve it right now either, but Tissy and I are both working on the problem around the clock. There has to be some temporal outcome tied to something Applejack is capable of doing that you can do, too. If anypony can find that outcome, you know it’s Tissy.”

“So you want me to do nothing?”

“For now,” Hal replied, “that’s exactly what I want you to do. Go back inside and get some sleep. I’ll be back first thing in the morning and we’ll have all day to hole up in Applejack’s bedroom to consider every alternative. ‘kay?”

Quantum gazed up at the starry sky. The constellations her mother taught her to recognize weren’t in the right places. Thirty-one years in the future, when the stars would align again, Trixie Lulamoon would attack and destroy most of the royal city of Canterlot. During the struggle, she would come to her daughter for help. Quantum wouldn’t let her down.

Family comes first.

Applebloom had uttered that phrase, just before Quantum wasted half the Apple family’s critical harvest day fixing appliances and toys. The minty mare narrowed her eyes.

“No.”

“No?” Hal repeated. “No what?”

Quantum shook her normally scruffy sea-green locks from side to side defiantly. “No, I can’t just sit idly by and do nothing,” she elaborated, taking hold of the sledgehammer again. “These ponies are running out of time. Last time, when I chose to act, ponies got hurt. This time I’m going to hurt ponies if I don’t do anything. I’m sorry if you don’t agree Hal, but you can’t stop me. You and Tissy keep working on a solution – if you come up with something, I promise I’ll listen. In the meantime, I need to work this out on my own.” She nodded at the nearby apple wagon, “I stowed away some parts from the things I fixed today under the hay.”

Hal looked from side to side nervously. He pulled on his loud collar, adjusted his pocket protector, flexed his burnt-orange wings, and whipped the frosted tips of his otherwise ebony tail from side to side. When he finally decided to speak, he found his friend’s eyes still fixed squarely on him.

“You could just be making things worse.”

“I have to try.” The minty mare insisted

Hal finally grinned. “Spoken like C.A.S.’s finest, and most stubborn. Fine. I know better than to try to talk you out of something you have your mind set on. We’ll work on our end; you work on yours. But Cutie, do something for me.”

“What?”

Now it was Hal’s turn to stare. “Be careful. Anything and everything you do will have some effect on the timeline and how this reality unfolds, to one degree or another. This could be our own future you’re creating…or destroying. If it were within reason I’d tell you not to even squish a cockroach, but since it isn’t, all I can say is be cognizant of not only your own future, but the future of everypony around you.” He smiled meekly, “Can you do that for me?”

Quantum returned the smile, and nodded softly. “I will. Try not to worry.”

“Too late for that,” Hal smirked. He beeped a few more buttons and examined the small LCD screen, which cast a sheen of white light over his amber eyes. “Oh by the way, I’ve got something for you.”

Before Quantum could raise the question, a spark of blue fire erupted next to her, and died away just as fast. In its wake, lying in the dirt, were the familiar large, reddish-brown frames that contained her glasses. Gratefully she scooped them up – they were quite solid – and popped them on her face. Sweet clarity ensued.

Quantum was about to thank Hal, when an electric spark leapt from his control device, startling both the nightowl ponies. Hal booped a few more buttons, but Quantum’s ears picked up a distinctly empty clicking noise from at least one or two lights that were now burned out.

“Well that’s it then,” Hal sighed. “Tissy thought as much would happen.”

Quantum waited for an explanation. Noticing her expression, Hal offered it.

“Those are your real glasses. As you can already tell they’re obviously not a hologram. We found them lying on the floor in the lab just in front of the Accelerator door. Tissy passed them through an interphase generator before we laid them on the pad and sent them out with the same coordinates that the Accelerator was set for when you went through. Apparently the same malfunction occurred, and here they are. Because they’re in a state of phasic flux, anypony who can’t see me shouldn’t be able to see them either, as long as they stay in contact with the accelerated molecules of your body. So, be careful. When you’re not touching them they’ll be visible, touchable, and destroyable by anypony you encounter. It’s very unlikely you’ll be able to carry anything you find along with you from this vault to the next, and as you can see,” Hal balanced the controller on his upturned hoof, showing off the two burnt out lights, “sending another item through the accelerator under the same malfunctioned conditions burned out the matrix. It wasn’t safe to bring you back anyway and pointless to send anypony else through, so this was the least we could do. So, if you lose those, get ready to lead a blurry existence.”

Now that Quantum could see as well as anypony in the ample moonlight, she noticed another item lying in the dirt by her hoof. Putting some concentration into her horn, she levitated it up to eye level and examined it. It was a small brown pouch with a leg strap, emblazoned with the C.A.S. class of 2039 emblem. “And this?” She asked.

“Tissy’s own design,” Hal grinned. “It’s supposed to be a way to keep the glasses near your body if you ever have to take them off. Airtight, waterproof, heat resistant even to dragon fire – don’t ask me how Tissy tested that – and woven from some experimental fiber she’s been working on that has a tensile strength that’s off the charts, so ripping isn’t likely except under the worst of conditions. It’s in phasic flux as well, of course. Convenient, eh?”

Quantum levitated the little pouch to her left foreleg and strapped it in place; eyeing the crest with a renewed vigor. “What happens if I put something in it from this reality and then vault?”

Hal shrugged, “How should I know? We’re breaking new ground here with every moment that passes. But don’t worry about that right now.” He pointed to his eyes, then hers, then his again. “Keep them on the prize, remember?”

Quantum nodded. Hal booped a control and the doorway of light slid open. The minty mare was about to turn away, but Hal spoke, two of his legs already through the portal.

“Cutie, I know what you said, but…I don’t believe you did what you claim you did. Neither do Tissy or Princess Twilight. Your heart’s too big.”

The door slid shut, the light vanished, and Quantum Trots was alone again in the barnyard of Sweet Apple Acres, with nothing but the light of the moon and the sound of cricket song to keep her company. Steeling herself and pushing the cowfilly hat down on her head, she worked long into the night. Her mind wafted back and forth between her work, and the image of a destroyed residential district in a future Canterlot.

1.4 - Honesty's Cleanest Hit

September 29, 2008

Sweet Apple Acres

Monday

For the first time since arriving in Ponyville, Quantum enjoyed pretending to be sick.

Having never been a morning pony, the minty mare was quite pleased to ignore Applebloom’s offer of breakfast and eat at her own leisure when she finally woke up – long after the day’s work had begun and the house was empty. When she was quite ready, she marched boldly to the barn. Hal was waiting. She eyed him, and he threw up his forelegs.

“Oh no, I didn’t peek,” he claimed, “and I wouldn’t miss this for all the apples on this farm. What did you come up with, and is there any way I can talk you out of it at the last minute?”

“Depends. Any progress?”

Hal looked downtrodden. “…no.”

Quantum opened the barn doors and went straight for the tarp she’d laid out over her creation. Thankfully, it didn’t appear to have drawn any attention. Throwing it back, she exposed two hollowed-out stumps of small trees, with pistons attached to either side of them and pads constructed from the tips of various iron farm implements.

Hal raised a lip and an eyebrow on the same side of his head. “And you’re…planning to…whatnow?”

Quantum stepped into the two strange contraptions to and began fastening them to her hind legs with levitated tie-down straps. When they were on, the iron hammerheads, scythe blades, and fork points under them pushed her rear hooves at least eight inches off the ground. “Buck apples, naturally. What else?”

Hal ran his hoof down his face. “This is an apple harvest, not a free for all. How did you power them?”

Quantum grinned, flexing her rear legs. The pistons pumped once, extending the bottom half of each ‘boot’ and retracting it again slowly. “Pony power.”

“You’re gonna kill somepony,” Hal huffed. “Besides, apple bucking isn’t all about power! There’s a certain finesse, a certain…panache to the whole thing.”

“Panache?” Quantum chortled, “Really?”

Keeping himself aloft with his wings, Hal balanced his forelegs on the ground and kicked at the air with his rear legs in slow, artsy motions; pointing his hooves as he went. “Panache,” he repeated.

“That’s ballet,” Quantum observed. With a grunt, she lurched herself forward, taking one plodding step after another. “Besides, I don’t have any ‘panache’ for bucking apples, and I don’t have time to develop any. Better to just kick the tree hard enough that it’ll have to give up its prizes all at once, and then move on to the next one.”

“They’re not piñatas!”

Ignoring Hal’s nagging protests, Quantum huffed and puffed her way out of the barnyard. Half an hour later she covered the distance from the house to the edge of the back forty, where Applebloom and Big McIntosh were going about their business. Hal floated helplessly along, booping and beeping as he went.

“Seventy-nine point six…point seven…point eight percent chance Applejack’s symptoms will persist...”

“You’re not help-ing!” Quantum sang.

An ear swiveled. Then another. Soon, both the farm ponies were staring at their kin huffing and puffing towards them. Applebloom yelped and was by her big sister’s side in a flash, gazing at the spectacle with a look of abject shock.

“Sis! What in—!? Y-you just hold on raight there! Ah’ll help ye get those bear traps off! Where in Equestria’ve you been that you got stuck in those!? You poor thang!”

Quantum shook her head, panting her words out with every step. “…it’s…fine…don’t…worry…about…it…” On her way to the nearest tree, she suddenly found herself in the presence of a large red roadblock with a yoke around its neck. Quantum looked up.

“Move…I can handle this…”

Big McIntosh scowled. “Eeenope.”

Applebloom considered the standoff, her eyes going back and forth between her elder siblings. “C-c’mon now,” she encouraged, “let’s just all take a breath, all quiet like, and explain out our differences, kay?” When nopony so much as flinched, she laughed weakly and interposed herself between them. “Now sis, Big Mac don’t want you out here because ye’re sick and ye might get hurt, raight?”

“Eeeyup.”

Applebloom turned, “And sis, y’all are out here wearin’ bear traps on yer hooves ‘cause…umm…why are you doin’ that?”

“They’re not bear traps,” Quantum murmured, dropping the fake accent entirely. “They can help us get this job done. I can help us get this job done, but you have to let me, okay?”

Big McIntosh, a very healthy and very large draft pony, chewed ominously on a piece of grass and threw a glance at the noontime sun.

“I know,” Quantum nodded, “we’re running out of time. But I’m your sister, right? I’m asking you to please just trust me on this. I can’t explain how I got these or…or anything that happened yesterday, but I know how important this harvest is, and I know as well as the rest of you that it’s not going to get done without my help!”

Applejack’s siblings frowned, the elder wearing a threatening glare while the younger looked away.

“Please?” Quantum repeated, her eyes going back and forth between the Apple siblings.

Hal shrugged, “See? They’re not gonna let you do this. It was a bad idea anyway. Now let’s get back to the house and use the time we have left to come up with a—”

The minty mare ignored her toasty orange friend and held up a hoof. “One tree. One. If I can’t buck it clean in a single hit, I’ll go back to the house quietly and do everything you say until Applejac—until I get better. But if I can do it, I stay. Deal?”

Applebloom still wouldn’t make eye contact. “Sis, almost nopony can buck an entire tree clean in a single hit. And you ain’t even raight as the weather.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Quantum shot back. Her expression softened. “Please. I can do it. Just give me one chance.”

The pale yellow filly looked up at her big brother, who still refused to flinch. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t far above a whisper. “Yer word’a honor?”

“So help me Celestia.” Quantum announced, tracing a line over her heart with one hoof. Hal started booping away furiously.

“Ohhh, now you’ve done it!” He interjected. “Did you forget that Applejack is the keeper of the element of honesty? You have to honor this agreement, Cutie. If you don’t, Tissy says it’s almost a guarantee that when the time comes, the element won’t accept her. And I’m sure you know the story of the keepers and their first encounter with Nightmare Moon!”

Applebloom raised a hoof and placed it gently on her brother’s chest. “Let’s let her try. It’s only one tree. Ain’t like she’ll die or nothin’ from it.”

Big McIntosh stood perfectly still for nearly a full minute. Finally, he stepped aside.

The minty mare stared at the single, sturdy-looking apple tree before her. It hadn’t yet been harvested – at least two dozen ripe, juicy apples were hanging from its branches, with who knew how many more out of sight. Hal floated up and flew around the tree twice to look it over.

“Cutie, I don’t think I need to tell you that if this doesn’t work and Applejack’s little sister orders you to stay in the house until you—until she gets better, it’s all over. This tree looks pretty solid, so can we at least find another one?”

Quantum resumed her belabored pace. Hal began to point in random directions, “H-how about that one over there? It has fewer apples on it. Or that one with the gash in the side? It might shake harder. Or…or anything other than this!?”

Quantum, now past the other ponies, shook her head just well enough for Hal to see. Hal sputtered, “Are you trying to screw this up!? Don’t you even care what these ponies are going through!? This isn’t a game, Cutie!” Quantum turned around and lined her rump up with the back of the tree, eyeing the trajectory the best she could while Hal went on. “There’s still a way out of this! Swoon! Pretend to pass out and there’s no deal, right? They’ll carry you back to the house and we’ll have another chance to figure this out, just please Cutie, don’t try this!”

Quantum swiveled her ears at the sound of birdsong. She looked at the earth ponies, appreciated the trees, and considered the blue sky. Then, she coughed, rolled her eyeballs up into her skull, bent her front knees…and kicked for all she was worth.

Pistons pumped. Inanimate iron clashed with still living wood. There was a sound like a shotgun crack that carried throughout the back forty and well into Ponyville.

Applebloom, Big McIntosh, and Hal the holographic pegasus stared agape. Quantum smirked.

“There, see? I told you—”

The minty-coated mare turned her head. Her words instantly caught in her throat. The apple tree, its trunk cleft completely in twain, was resting peacefully on the ground in the noonday sun. A squirrel, perched upon the once proud tree’s stump, was giving an experimental chew to splinters taller than its body.

“I…” Quantum sputtered, wide eyed, “I got the apples down, anyway.”

Applebloom approached carefully, never taking her wary, frightened gaze off of the infernal contraptions clamped to her big sister’s hind legs. She paused at the event horizon to survey the damage. Not a single apple had moved from its place on the felled tree.

“Sis,” the pale filly began, “Big Mac’s gonna go put ye back t’bed.”

“I…” Quantum began, “I’m sorry, I…I didn’t think it would—”

“GIT!” Applebloom shouted, refusing to look at the mare she thought was her sister. “Go on and git before y’all wreck the whole dern farm!”

Quantum hung her head and babbled through another apology. Stepping out of her latest (but not greatest) invention, she allowed herself to be accosted all the way back to Applejack’s bedroom. Big Mac was as silent as the guard that had escorted Quantum to her cell on that fateful day. When he finally marched out of the room, Quantum picked up the sound of a key turning in the lock from the outside.

For the rest of the day, Quantum Trots lay on Applejack’s bed, despondently blocking the sun from her eyes with a pillow. When the stars rose, a familiar voice mingled with the scent of an untouched dinner.

“I tried to warn you,” Hal said softly.

“It was going to work,” Quantum’s voice was muffled and uneven. “I was sure it was going to work.” She sat up in bed, raising her swollen eyelids to her friend’s somber form. “Hal, what have I done?”

Hal booped a few controls, “You don’t want to know.”

“Is there anything I can do to fix any of it?”

Hal sighed, shaking his head. “No. Tissy says the likelihood that the apple harvest will fail is over 93.1 percent. They won’t stop working after tomorrow of course, but these were the peak days – after this, they lose too many of the apples, and the great apple famine of 2009 breaks the economic back of most of Equestria’s major cities. And the chance that ponies will start blaming each other for it jumped almost sixty percent.” Rubbing his muzzle with one roof, Hal ventured a weak smile. “On the plus side, Tissy says that if you do nothing at all but lay here in bed tomorrow, Applejack will make a full recovery. Tissy’s been monitoring your molecular structure. Judging by the stability of your molecules, she thinks you’ll probably end up vaulting again sometime late tomorrow.”

Quantum lifted Applejack’s cowfilly hat off of the bedpost. She stared at the simple accessory for a time. It belonged to a pony that was better than she was, who had friends who were more loyal, generous, kinder, and knew a laughter that Quantum lost weeks ago. Now, the minty mare had taken that away from all of them. Scowling venomously, she cast the hat to the floor and collapsed back onto the bed.

“Cutie, this time you need to stay he—”

“I heard you the first time!” Quantum snapped. And then, more softly, “…don’t worry. I won’t make any more trouble for anypony. I’m…I’m sorry, Hal. Sorry for what I did back home, and sorry that I couldn’t atone for it here. I guess I’m awful for saying this, but now I just hope this isn’t our reality I just ruined.”

Hal took to staring out the window, watching the moonlight dance between the trees. “Then call me a jerk too, because I hope the same thing.” He glanced back, “Hey…for what it’s worth, I believe you. We’re friends, so…apology accepted, at least from me. I know you meant well.”

Quantum lay sprawled flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. She failed to sniff back a tear. “You’re a good friend. Better than I deserve. Thank you.”

“Get some rest,” Hal replied. “I’ll check on you in the morning, and again when it’s time for you to leave.”

Quantum lay in another pony’s bed; staring at the night sky and thinking about the ominous white space, where shadows laid an inescapable verdict upon her equine brow.

2.1 - The Ides of March

March 15, 20238 (A.D.?)

Atlaminitis

Thursday

Quantum erupted in a fit of coughing. Her stomach felt like a group of colts were playing kickball with it, and she was pretty sure the home team scored nine goals into her intestines before the violent spinning sensation all around her finally began to subside.

When the dizziness passed and she was finally able to remove her hoofs from her temples and open her eyes, she found that nothing was as it had been. Sweet Apple Acres, its residents, Ponyville…they weren’t just gone. It was like none of them had ever existed. After confirming the cowfilly hat was no longer on her head, she picked up her hooves and stamped about the concrete below her a few times, sending clacking noises echoing throughout the empty room she was standing in. A rectangular skylight opened to the night like an eye, sending in a soft pattern of starlight that clung coyly to objects around her. Checking to make sure her glasses were still on her muzzle and the pouch Tissy had constructed for her was still wrapped securely around her left foreleg, Quantum carefully picked her way through a pile of something that resembled masonry debris and clambered about, trying to make sense of her new environment.

What she found fascinated her scientific mind in ways she could only dream about.

The objects themselves were rather mundane – chairs, some overturned, lay beneath piles of hastily discarded electronics under enough desks to suggest an office environment. Lighting her way with her horn, Quantum sifted one of the thin pieces of polymer on the floor out from its fellows and prodded it with her hoof. It came to life beneath her, and she was astounded to find herself staring at a hoofheld computer screen, with a logo she didn’t recognize on it. A small, snakelike appendage slowly rose from the device and lazily swung in midair before her face. It had no discernible eyes, yet it seemed to be watching her. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a tiny stereo jack. Quantum gasped.

“Mnemonics?” She reasoned aloud. “Automatic response to user input…interfaces directly with the brain, but…” she pondered, dissertating to herself, “…the user would have to have a jack-in port wired directly to their cerebral cortex, plus their brain itself would have to be reengineered to be compatible with the bandwidth. The advancements in medical science alone would have to be colossal to even attempt something like this. Hoofington Wells wrote a book about it once, but it was all just wild speculation. At the Academy it would be so much fiction that it would get you laughed right off campus…”

The minty mare, her coat dyed blue by the midnight, poked around to a few more of the little computers, watching as each one she accessed tried in vain, like a leech, to find a place in her head to bury itself.

“Sorry little ones,” she smirked, “but I don’t have the right kind of hole in my head, and even if I did, I’m betting you wouldn’t like the taste of my neurons.” As she thought about her own words, her geeky smile faded. “But…but the ethics behind this…it would be like taking an old nag’s brain out of their body and plugging it into a filly’s skull. They’d have to be starting ponies off as foals just to avoid rejection...”

Quantum shook her head and tried to dismiss the unpleasant image, but a piece of it stubbornly remained, like mildew on the tile walls of her mind. Before she gave up playing with her newfound toys to turn her attention to where she was, she nabbed one of the flat little tablet-like devices with her teeth and slid it into her pouch.

The large, warehouse-style room was more or less intact, but there were signs of structural damage. Quantum found herself swallowing as she approached the slightly cracked, glass double doors that looked like a main entrance. There was a soft pink light pulsing rapidly on the other side. She couldn’t make out its source, but just standing around in one place certainly wasn’t doing her any good. Hesitantly she nosed at the door. It opened easily.

Having made the acquaintance of far too many science-fiction novels in her brief life, Quantum half expected to find herself cantering directly into a warped, destroyed metropolis infested with seven-story tall pony-eating plants from outer space, giant mutant cockroaches that had eradicated ponykind, or hundreds of victims of a wasting disease bent upon consuming her flesh. She relaxed and berated her runaway imagination when she found herself standing on a quiet city street. The pink light was emanating from a neon sign across the street that was advertising…something. She squinted at the image, trying to discern what the dizzy looking pegasus in the picture was doing, hooked up to so many strange devices all at once. Was it some form of entertainment? Transportation? Therapy? Stimulation?

As she thought on it, her eyes wandered down to a shop window that had clearly been broken on purpose. Similar bits and pieces of damage could be found all over the street – broken glass, uprooted vegetation, graffiti, and so forth. There was an unlit stone sign arcing above the street in the pattern of an arch with a colored keystone in the top of it. Quantum squinted and read.

Borough of Atlaminitis – Erected in Memoriam of Mayor Derby Downs, Hearth’s Burning, 20399

Quantum blinked. Hard.

“Twenty thirty-nine…nine?” A cold shiver ran down her spine, “Hearth’s…burning? Atlaminitis?” Where—when in Equestria was she? And for that matter, where were all the ponies? Where were all the flying space car contraptions? A shiver emerged from Quantum’s synapses and shot warily down her spine. Something wasn’t right. She glanced up and down the gagged street, looking for giant cockroaches or evil brains from dimension X.

“Cutie?”

“GAHHH!”

Quantum nearly leapt out of her coat when she came face to face with a hovering, gawking Hal.

“D-don’t do that to me ever again!” She whined, trying to tamp her heart back down in her chest. “What in Equestria is wrong with you? Mares slap stallions in the face for less than that!”

Hal held up his hooves but didn’t look apologetic. “Cutie, we don’t have time for you to protect your girlish privacy. You need to get out of here.”

The cryptic statement eroded Quantum’s anger back into worry. “Why? Don’t just say scary things like that out of the blue with no explanation. I’m not—” she swallowed, “I’m not really about to get eaten by giant mutant space slugs, am I?”

“What?” Hal shook his head, “Forget it, I don’t want to know.” Hurriedly he whipped out his control device and punched up a sequence of colors. “Long story short – Tissy has no idea what year this is, but the guess is that it’s so far in the future that the Equestrian nation we once knew has probably reorganized itself so many times, we wouldn’t recognize any of it. We don’t have time to figure out details. Your name is…no, forget that too. It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that there’s a colt somewhere in this city named Mane Saiah. White coat. You need to find him right now and get the hell out of this place. That’s all we know.”

“That’s all you know?” Quantum repeated sarcastically waving a dramatic hoof about. “This city looks pretty huge to me, and it’s like a bazillion gashmillion years in the future! For all I know ponies don’t even walk on the ground anymore! How am I supposed to do that? How much time do I have? And for that matter, why is it so critical that I do this right now?” Quantum wanted to add the one very good reason she could think of – that dozens of evil looking black monster ponies were thirsting for her undying soul (or whatever it is they were doing), but she thought this a bad time to try to explain her encounter with the white pony to Hal.

The toasty orange pegasus opened his mouth to explain, but he was cut off by a sight that both of the classmates noticed at the same time. A figure was standing at the mouth of an alley. Its face was partially obscured by a heavy green cloak, but its markings clearly identified it as a zebra. The zebra just…stood there, staring at Quantum, stoic and solid as if birthed from the concrete sidewalk.

Hal beeped and booped away. “Tissy’s got nothing for an ID, and I don’t like this. Leave him—her—whatever alone and let me tell you why you need to get out of here right n—”

“Excuse me!” Quantum was already trotting across the street. “Um, excuse me, but I’m kind of in a pickle here, and I could really use some help. It’s my, uh…it’s my nephew.” She stopped in the middle of the street and held her hoof out, “about yay tall? White coat? You see, we got separated and I’m just so worried. Do you know if there’s a shelter or something nearby, or any place I could ask about—”

“Beware!” The zebra shouted.

“Ex…excuse me?”

The zebra threw back its hood. Beneath was the shattered visage of a striped pony with a shredded mane and a quarter of its head, including one eye, replaced entirely by cybernetics. The zebra’s red mechanical eye shrank and expanded with the perspective of everything it looked at. “Beware the Ides of March! Time was never meant to flow on for so long! The end comes!”

With that, the zebra turned and fled down the alley at a full gallop. Hal spoke before Quantum had any time to react.

“Dammit!” He hissed, “Cutie, I warned you! Run!”

“Huh--?”

Quantum Trotts Lulamoon, daughter of Trixie Lulamoon and now unwilling dimensional traveler, turned around to see what was the matter. The sheer, terrifying impossibility of the sight sent all her senses up to a screaming high alert. Sputtering and flailing, she turned from the office building and galloped madly, nearly tripping more than once in her maddened dash to get away. Behind her, a massive wall of water, stretching to the horizon and easily dwarfing the tallest skyscrapers by two or three times was barreling down on her, blotting out the moon and engulfing everything in its path; obliterating structures as a foal might knock over a sandcastle. Hal pounded his wings in a desperate bid to catch up.

“You have to find Mane Saiah and get away from here!” Hal shouted at the top of his lungs just to be heard at all above the crashing, civilization-ending waves.

“Coltcrap crazy!” Quantum shouted through moments of white hot terror. “Do I look like an eight thousand hoof tall, sixteen mile wide, five hundred hoof thick concrete wall to you!? Or maybe you think I’m faster than a speeding Wonderbolt!? I’m gonna die! Oh Celestia, I’m gonna die!!”

“Calm down!” Hal shouted indignantly. He opened his mouth to yell his vocal chords raw again, but the minty mare shut him down.

“Why should I even care what happens here!?” Quantum screeched, running for her life. “Even if this is our reality, nothing that happens here will affect us, our grandfoals, their grandfoals, or their great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, grandfoals!” Panting desperately, she glanced at Hal as long as she could before narrowly avoiding a streetsign in her path. “What happens to me if the host pony dies? Tell me Tissy has a theory on that!”

Hal sped along, not even bothering to check his device. “Hard to say,” he shouted, “but if the anchor supporting your unstable molecular structure suddenly fails, well…you do the math!”

“Hit the recall!” Quantum screamed, glancing back only long enough to see the earthshattering tsunami gaining fast.

“What?”

“For Celestia’s sake,” Quantum fixed her classmate with pleading eyes, “hit the recall switch! Pull me back home! I’m sorry for whoever’s body I’m in, but you know they can’t be saved!”

“I can’t do that!” Hal shouted. “You’re too unstable! The transition would kill you!”

Quantum sniffed. The white pony…the shadow ponies…what good were their bargains if she died anyway? Was this whole thing some sort of sick joke? Or…did she deserve it from the beginning? Blubbering, she shouted, “I’m gonna die either way! At least let me do it at home!!”

Hal said nothing. Quantum’s hysterical shouting continued.

“Hal, please! You’re my friend, right!? Maybe I deserve to die like this for what happened back home, but…I…I’m scared! Help me!”

Hal sped along, heedless of the obstacles he was sailing right through. He retrieved the control device from his pocket protector and glanced back at the fast approaching Everest of water. No pony alive had a chance of getting away from such a derisive death by drowning, though the lethal impact would make that irrelevant. Hal doubted even the combined magic of all Equestria’s princesses and the elemental Keepers could waylay such an extinction-level event. His hoof shaking, he slowly reached out to the single, deep vermillion button that would trigger the Accelerator’s recall function, which was designed to immediately return a dimensional traveler to the point of origin in case of emergency. Justifications went rocketing through his mind:

It’s not a guarantee she’ll die on the return trip

She’ll definitely die here

She’s my friend…I have to do something

Hal’s hoof brushed against the button. Swallowing against a thickness in his throat that wasn’t there a moment ago, he applied pressure until a flicker of movement caught his eye. Peering overtop of his device, his gaze came to rest on a fast moving colt…with a white coat. Removing his hoof from the recall control, he began booping away at speed.

“Cutie!” Hal practically laughed, “That’s him! That’s Mane Saiah!”

Quantum, who hadn’t noticed the young pony just because she was too busy being terrified, suddenly brought him into focus. He was a scrawny thing – even moreso than she was, with a scraggly albino mane and a slight pinkness under his ears. He looked old enough to have a cutie mark, but there was nothing present on either of his flanks. Slowly but surely, she found she was running him down.

“What’s so special about him!?” She shouted.

Hal beeped and booped. The water closed in. A pulverized hotel drowned out his gasp, but his eyes gave away the shock.

“Cutie!” Hal bellowed, “Tissy says isn’t the future! It’s the past! Twenty millennia in the past! A previous civilization beyond the limits of our archaeology! What happens could affect us after all! Say ‘Mane Saiah’ five times fast!”

Quantum wriggled her nose. “Mane Saiah….maynesiaha? Mainsaeya? Messainiah? Mess….Messiah?”

Hal stared, “You and I have both learned to trust Tissy’s instincts, and I for one have never seen her like this…” He flew through a building and kept his eyes on the retreating, faceless colt. “Cutie…try. Just try!”

Quantum favored the wall of water with one more glance. In another minute it would be nipping at her heels. Her heart was throbbing in her chest and she was nearing the point of exhaustion. If the water didn’t overwhelm her in the next few blocks, her need for oxygen would. Death was a certainty. Saving the colorless little colt with the ecclesiastical name was beyond impossible.

The minty mare gritted her teeth and forced her limbs into fifth gear, blotting out the pain in her knees. When she was upon the retreating colt, she did the only thing she could think of – adrenaline coursing through her veins, she nabbed his withers with her teeth and whipped her neck as hard as she could. Never seeing his face, she felt the satisfying weight of the…surprisingly light colt, on her back. She then narrowed her eyes and charged ahead, determined to run until either her heart exploded, or the sea took them both.

“And you’re so sure you want to die!” Hal called cheerfully.

Ignoring the quip, Quantum beat the colt’s lethargic pace and felt proud of the fact that she’d managed to save his life – or at least prolong it for a few more terse seconds. Her eyes now wet with tears, she began to feel spray dribbling over her rump and back.

“Hal…if you’re not going to press that button, then…please just get out of here,” Quantum whined through strained panting. “I don’t want you to see me die like this…”

The mint-coated mare closed her eyes tightly. It made no difference if she ran into anything at this point. She had done her best - If this was what the shadow-tribunal wanted from her, there was no way to stop it from happening. She wondered if she would drown, or if the force of the water would pulverize her bones into powder so fast that she wouldn’t even feel it.

The weight on Quantum’s back disappeared. She looked up.

Hovering a few hooves above her, keeping an easy pace, was a creature that resembled a pegasus. Quantum had to blink several times until she was sure of what she was looking at. The being was still a pony, but much of its body had been replaced by cybernetic parts that so closely mimicked the real thing, Quantum couldn’t help but feel inadequate for the technological development of her own entire society. The pegasus was wearing a helmet and uniform in a drab olive color, with an insignia on the foreleg that Quantum didn’t recognize. The beating of his wings was augmented by a large tank-like device on his back, that was spitting out orange exhaust fire as he sped along. The white colt was in the grasp of the pegasus, and the flyer was holding onto the dead weight as though it were nothing.

Quantum pleaded to the being with her eyes, hoping it might understand and dive in to help. Instead, it arced its body up and began to climb into the oddly serene stars of the night sky. Before it left her view, the pegasus saluted staunchly. Its expression was noble and apologetic. A single tear traced its brown-grey cheek.

“Cutie,” Hal shouted from somewhere unknown. “The pony you are…Tissy says this pony has a ninety-nine point five three four percent chance of dying sometime in the next sixteen seconds, increasing by point zero one eight percent every second thereafter. I…if you really want me to hit the recall, I guess…I guess…”

Quantum heard no more. Her lungs were past their ability to force oxygen into her starving bloodstream. Stumbling, her hoof caught a crack in the street and sent her spiraling out of control, until her chin slammed into the ground. There was no time to feel pain. There was no time to breathe.

An ancient civilization ceased to exist.

3.1 - It's in the Cards

April 9, 2027

Baltimare

Friday

Quantum didn’t feel dead. Then again, having no frame of reference for what ‘feeling dead’ actually feels like, she couldn’t be sure. Pure, empty blackness persisted just long enough for her to start feeling claustrophobic. Then, the minty mare felt a jarring shove and heard the clear, close voice of a stallion.

“Draw!” The voice called. “Hey, Draw? What’s up, buddy? Too much turnip rum?”

A chorus of guffawing cackles clattered ignominiously around in Quantum’s head. Her thoughts a jumbled swirl and her chin still in contact with something hard, she sat up and rubbed at her eyes under her glasses. “Fffwheh?” She breathed groggily, “…am I dead for real this time?”

The cacophony of chortles rose up again in response to her comment, and Quantum felt a hoof smack her in the withers so hard she nearly fell off…whatever she was sitting on.

“Only if you were drawing dead last round!” The voice laughed. “And by the way, Tilt just called you. Are you gonna smack that smile off his muzzle or what?”

“Wh-what…?” Quantum shook the momentary delirium out of her head and squinted at the blurry images all around her. The moment her hazy mind began to clear, a torrent of stinging, sopping wet memories came rushing in; the image of a mile-high wall of water, barreling in at lightspeed to claim her. She cried out, leaned back…and promptly fell off the back of a swiveling chair upholstered in green leather, crashing onto a red shag carpeted floor in a heap. The faces of four unfamiliar unicorn stallions appeared above her. They were all feigning concern under quivering lips and merrily flaring nostrils. A red-coated one with a spiky yellow mane offered her a hoof up. He then promptly levitated a heavy looking tumbler glass off of a table and let it smack down again, slapping his knee and laughing as he did so.

“Dang, Swizzle, what was in that? You put poor Draw here right on his rump!”

The stallions laughed again. Quantum, wincing against the usual nausea consistent with a vault, waved off a few offers of help and righted the chair on her own. The stallions returned to their seats, which were all at the opposite ends of a round table with a thin layer of green felt trim over it. Quantum sat on the seat that was apparently hers and used the moment of distracted conversation between the stallions to take in her surroundings.

The first thing she noticed was a visible haze filtering in and out of practically everything. It invaded her lungs like smoke from a burning building, but she suppressed a cough, since nopony else appeared bothered by it. The smoke gave the entire room a heavy, masking sweet odor, tinged at the fringes with a stale sourness. The room itself was rather large and poorly lit, with a number of other tables similar to the one Quantum found herself seated at. There was a long, solid bar behind her, smooth with lacquer and equipped with enough of the amenities for the minty mare to get the idea that she was in some kind of drinking establishment. Hanging behind the bar, beyond a few scraggly looking ponies and at least two griffons, was a mirror. Quantum tried to peer at herself in it without making a show, but her attention was called away by another gruff stallion voice.

“Hey. I called you. Are you gonna show or not?”

Quantum turned her attention back to the table. To her right was another glass tumbler, half-filled with an amber liquid she didn’t have to taste to assume was alcohol. To her left was an ashtray, where a portly lit cigar appeared to be waiting for her. In front of her was a hand of playing cards, lying face down on the table. All of the stallions had similar setups. In the center of the table was a large mound of bits – easily more money than Quantum had ever seen in one place at one time before. She blinked twice at the considerable funds, wondering what she and her mother could have done with all that years ago.

The unicorn stallions were staring. Quantum levitated the cards and peered at them. Nopony reacted, and Quantum sighed with relief inwardly – apparently she was back to being a unicorn. She examined the cards:

Alicorn of diamonds. Kingfisher of diamonds. Princess of diamonds.

Quantum grinned.

Nag of diamonds. Nine of diamonds.

The minty mare’s smug smile split her muzzle so broadly that the unicorns took notice. This would be…easy. No problem. She’d played poker with her mother. At least half a dozen times.

“Oh brother,” the red pony chuckled, “He’s got that look on his muzzle again. I’m so glad I folded.” With that, he made a show out of pointing at the cream-colored unicorn who had apparently ‘called’. “Tilt, you watch Draw. He’ll bleed you dry.”

The creamy mare with the mauve mane, apparently named ‘Tilt’, grimaced nervously, peering over the top of his cards. “He’s bluffing. I just know it.” Tilt fixed Quantum with a stare. “And this time I’m gonna pin the tail on you, Draw. Call. Show your cards.”

The other unicorns let their hands drop, face down, and pushed them away as one, turning to their smokes or their drinks and watching intently. Quantum pulled her own cards up until they were touching her muzzle and smiled from behind them.

“Go fish.”

Tilt raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Quantum erked, “I mean, uh…hit me.”

“I’ll hit you all you want, just as soon as you show me your cards,” Tilt threatened.

Quantum heard a faint whooshing noise come from behind her. Nopony else appeared to take notice, but an instant later she heard Hal’s familiar voice.

“Hey, you’re not dead!” The toasty orange pegasus shouted gleefully. “I knew it! Tissy owes me lunch! A-and…hey, what are you doing?”

“Ix-nay,” Quantum murmured, holding her cards over her mouth.

“What? Don’t mumble.”

“Ix-nay!” Quantum repeated. A fat, aging purple unicorn off to her right snorted and gave her a look. “Pig Latin ain’t gonna save you, Draw. Come on, show your cards. I’m dyin’ t’see this thing go down.”

Hal, dressed in a checkered red and green turtleneck with gold trim, made an ‘ohh-ing’ sound. “Right, sorry.” He flitted around the table, casually inspecting everything and passing right through anything he encountered. “What’cha playing? Poker? Got a good hand?”

Quantum nodded, so slightly that it would be easy to miss. Hal peered over Tilt’s shoulder and smiled. “This guy called you? He’s bluffing. All he has is a small pair of fours. Nail his mane to the wall.”

That was all Quantum needed to hear. She let her cards slip down a bit, so the stallions could see her smile, and then reveled in their chuckling responses. Tilt was visibly sweating. Hal, laughing mirthfully, sailed back over the table and came to rest behind his classmate.

When Hal peered at Quantum’s cards, his smile vanished.

“Y-you don’t have a ten!” He screeched, “Cutie, that’s not a royal flush! It’s just junk! Fold! Whoever’s body you’re in right now, spare the poor pony’s dignity!”

But it was too late. With a light chinking noise that could be heard throughout the drab establishment, Quantum’s hand fell face up on the pile of bits. The minty mare cackled and reached towards the impressive pile of money, before a cream-colored hoof came slamming down on her foreleg. Quantum winced, suppressing the urge to cry out, and looked up into the baleful eyes of the stallion named Tilt. His horn was glowing. Next to his head was a small switchblade, levitating patiently.

“What in Equestria d’you think you’re trying to pull?” Tilt rumbled. “You think nopony would even bother to look at your cards? That the high and mighty gambler, Draw Out, is just so good that we’d all take your word for it?”

Quantum swallowed, her eyes affixed to the floating weapon. “U—uhh…no?”

Tilt sneered and glanced down at Quantum’s pinned hoof, which was covering the nine of diamonds. “Show me that card,” he demanded.

Quantum could hear a torrent of beeping and booping sounds from somewhere behind her. She glanced around the table. All the stallions were watching her, waiting for her to take action. Hal spoke hastily.

“This guy…Tissy says his name is Tilt. He’s in his late twenties and he was turned out from an orphanage at the age of twelve for being too violent. Has a rap sheet longer than Princess Celestia’s mane, but so far the only charges that have stuck are minor offenses and he’s either gotten off or served short time.” Hal gulped in a breath, “…he’s got a cadre of young, impressionable thugs in his employ. A jerk, but apparently a charismatic jerk. Oh, and in case you wanted to know, Tissy says that if you provoke him, there’s a very high probability that he’ll stab you to death, so…uh…don’t.”

Quantum thought for a second, and in the end she decided not to deck the well-muscled Tilt, nor attempt to strangle the holographic pegasus with the tendency for untimely information dispersal. She cleared her throat and adopted the best wisepony voice she could craft from noir movies, sliding her hoof away from the card and grinning.

“Aw c’mon Tilt,” she cooed, “You think I would cheat yas? Fuhgetaboutit! I wuz just playin’ see?” Tilt’s confused grip relaxed, and Quantum immediately slid away from him, sitting back up on her chair. “Ya, ya, you got me. Take it. Just keepin’ ya on your hooves, right?” With that, the minty mare forced out a laugh and glanced between the other alarmed unicorn stallions, who looked nervously at one another and eventually joined in. The red pony put his hoof on Tilt’s shoulder and grinned broadly at him.

“Yeah Tilt, what Draw said. Relax buddy.” He nodded at the knife, “Ain’t no need for that in a friendly game.”

Tilt growled and glanced around at the laughing ponies, Blushing slightly, he levitated the knife out of sight and got up from his seat, smugly grinning. Quantum caught sight of a cutie mark in the shape of a single playing card laying on its face. “Yeah, whatever. I pinned your tail Draw, and you know it. And I’ll be coming for ya next time, too. You wait.” He levitated his drink, took a long swig, and dropped the glass on the floor, allowing it to shatter. Reeling a moment from the hot booze sliding down his throat, he bellowed a command, “Swizzle! Bag my bits! I’m going to the can!”

A dirty rag grazed Quantum’s ear on the way to Tilt, smacking the latter lightly in the flank. Quantum turned to see a middle-aged, midnight blue earth mare with a violet mane, too much makeup, and a snide curl to her lip standing behind the bar. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ until you clean up your mess, you pathetic turnip lush!” The mare announced boldly.

Quantum tensed, expecting to see the slightly unhinged stallion raise his weapon again. Instead, he eyed the discarded rag apathetically and harrumphed. “Tch, fine.” He clopped two hooves together and looked around the room. “Twiggy! Hey! Come clean this crap up!”

Hal wandered into Quantum’s line of sight, as the unicorn ponies and other customers went about their own business. He was examining his screen and didn’t look up. “Swizzle. Fifty-three years old. Runs a seedy establishment called ‘The Hungry Ursa’. One estranged daughter…powerful personality…has enough respect among the clientele here that they typically listen to her.” He pointed around the table, indicating the red stallion with the spiky yellow mane first.

“Hole Card. Probably one of the only ponies here who actually makes an honest living. Thirty years old…no family….gambles in his spare time. Has an upbeat attitude that his friends sometimes find annoying.” Next, Hal pointed at a skinny, buck-toothed specimen with a slack look in his eyes, that seemed interested in laughing at absolutely everything.

“Slow Play. Not sure of his age, but Tissy says he’s known for being about as sharp as the face of a placing card. Not much background…common thug, easily manipulated…seems the others just invite him to the game when they want to make a few extra bits.”

Finally, Hal pointed at the overweight, aging purple fellow that was sitting to Quantum’s right. “Short Stack. Name matches his stature I guess. Sixty-four years old. Aged but still sharp and well-connected. Comes off as friendly enough, but Tissy says you’re better just leaving him alone. And that brings us to you.” Hal examined his device and cleared his throat lightly, falling silent.

Quantum, unable to speak to the hologram in public for fear of having to plead insanity again, tried to bore a hole through him with her stare instead. Finally, Hal continued.

“Draw Out. Stallion. Thirty-two years old.” Hal chuckled and clucked his tongue, “Oh geez…and you thought being a hayseed was tricky! This guy is unemployed and apparently gets by on his smart-aleck grin and his poker winnings. Practically lives at this club…bar…whatever you want to call it. Parents are dead, no siblings…and apparently his three favorite things in the world are cards, rum, and mares. Not necessarily in that order.” Slipping his device back into his pocket protector, Hal grinned, “Congratulations. You’re a pig. Nice cutie mark, by the way.”

Quantum glanced at her flank…her eyes falling on her usual minty blue-green coat, and her own two-tone, blue flame cutie mark. She sighed inwardly and sauntered close enough to the bar to get a squinting look at herself, which was no small feat considering all the haze in the air. Staring back at her was a unicorn stallion with a broad muzzle, a nice chin, and a dashing, curly white mane over a coat that shared its shade with that of golden money. On his flank was an image of…more money, and the exact hand of playing cards that Quantum thought she had moments ago.

Wiping a rag down the bar as she went, the earth pony named Swizzle suddenly broke into Quantum’s field of view.

“Hey sugah,” she grinned, “What’s with the long face? Not enough rum in ya yet? Or maybe you’d like some more?” The mare giggled, the sound reminding Quantum of appleseeds rattling around in a tin can. Quantum kept glancing at her reflection over the mare’s shoulder, flailing her nostrils and trying to make sense of her broader face. When she noticed the proprietor was actually speaking to her, she nearly jumped.

“What? O-oh uh…” this time, Quantum lowered the pitch of her voice on purpose. “N-nah, swee—uh---sugar…bab-y?”

The mare only cackled dryly, “Dearie, nopony’s called me that since aught one, but if you’re crusin’ for a free drink this time you can forget it.” With that, Swizzle pulled a fresh mug from under the bar, retrieved a pot of something hot, and filled the mug liberally, sighing. “But then, I never could say no to the cute ones.” She pushed the mug to Quantum. “Black. Finish it or you’re never getting another hoof of liquor from this bar, paid tab or no paid tab.”

The smell of not-so-freshly ground coffee beans wafted across Quantum’s nostrils. She levitated the cup and almost took a sip from it, but a flicker of movement from the corner of the mirror stopped her. She squinted at the odd blue form that had been there for a second, but it was gone just as fast as it had been present. Something seemed familiar about it.

Quantum turned around. She couldn’t see the floor past the card table, but the glow from behind it suggested somepony was manipulating the dish rag Swizzle had thrown at Tilt. A new mare was standing over the spill. Her horn was lit, and she was chatting with the stallions amicably enough. The mare was wearing fishnets on her rear legs, heels, and had a rather trashy looking skirt with black and red lace wrapped around her torso.

Quantum’s jaw dropped.

“M-mom!?”

In the turning of a second, the minty mare abandoned her coffee and shot across the room, inserting herself between Trixie and the unicorn stallions. She nabbed the older mare’s hoof in her own. Hal smacked his forehead.

“Mom!” Quantum shouted. “Wh-what are you doing here!? Wh-wh—” she sputtered, indicating the outfit, “why are you dressed so horribly!?”

Scowling, Trixie tore her hoof away from her daughter, levitated the alcohol-soaked dishrag, and flung it into Quantum’s face. The stallions burst out laughing, and so raucous was their noise that even the griffons and other patrons joined in.

“Ex-cuse-me!” Trixie sang, “But The Great and Powerful Twiggy is not to be handled by the likes of you, you dirty little rum-soaked cricket! Or are you so drunk you think I’m your mother?”

Slow Play guffawed from his seat, a guttural voice belching forth from his pencilneck, “You hear that, Twigs? Draw just called you old! And he says ya got no sense of style! What’cha gonna do?”

Quantum gacked, whipping the dishrag out of her face with a sharp shake of her head. “What? No! I didn’t mean—”

Quantum felt an unexpectedly soft kick. She looked down to find her mother’s foreleg in between her own. She blinked. Behind Trixie, Hal rolled his eyes and made falling motions with his hooves, mouthing the words ‘stallion’ and ‘idiot’ over and over.

Forcing herself to cough, Quantum pulled all her legs together, closed her eyes, winced…and let herself tip over until the carpet came up to meet her cheek. The stinging blow to her side was accented by the remainder of the spilled drink, which soaked into her coat, smelling of stale turnips.

“And let that teach you a lesson,” Trixie barked smugly.

“That’s right!” Tilt’s voice rang out. Quantum looked up just long enough to see the creamy, creepy stallion wrap his forelegs around her mother’s upper body, nuzzling her cheek. “Dunno what’s got into you Draw, but Twiggy’s mine. Everypony knows that. Go get one of your own conquests if yer feelin’ lucky!”

Quantum stumbled on the floor, slipping in the spilled drink. Shocked, she watched her mother clop away, leg-in-leg with a two-bit, no good thug. The minty mare scrambled to her hooves and was about to give chase, but Hal stood in her way.

“She doesn’t know who you are, Cutie. You’re just going to start a fight.” Hal poked at his device once, “Draw rents a room upstairs. Fourth floor, last door on the right. Go there and wait for me. I’ll come back later when Tissy has some new info.”

Quantum gritted her teeth and pumped several breaths through her nose, grimacing at her friend. The red unicorn named Hole Card suddenly patted her withers.

“Draw, seriously, you alright? You seem a little off alla sudden.”

“I-I’m fine. Too much rum I guess,” Quantum lied, turning away from Hal, Trixie, and Tilt. “I think I need to go lay down.”

Hole Card’s bone china eyes seemed full of genuine concern. “Sure. Come down for dinner later – we’re gonna get another game going. ‘Corns only, right?” he grinned and lowered his voice to a whisper, “But seriously, you can take Tilt’s money in a fair game and he’ll stay in line just because Short Stack’s there, but don’t mess with Twiggy. He’s liable to get violent if you go after his mare. Besides, you got enough of them anyway, dont’cha?”

Quantum nodded haltingly, traded a few contrived pleasantries with the patrons, and made her way to the stairs. The image of her mother dressed in fishnets and calling herself ‘Twiggy’ was burned on the back of her retinas.

3.2 - Walk Like a Stallion

April 9, 2027

Baltimare – The Hungry Ursa

Friday Evening

Quantum sat on the end of a hard mattress, staring out the window of a place that resembled a trashy motel room. Deep green walls made the bathroom door seem even closer, and the gaudy furniture was littered with old lottery tickets, raffle stubs, and a few classic novels that looked like they had never been read. The room smelled strongly of a low-end stallion musk cologne. The drab greyness of the street below was broken up only by colorful spring buds from the few trees that had been strategically planted along the sidewalks. Having lived in Baltimare for many years of her life, she recognized the city immediately and knew all of this was just a vain effort at ‘beautification’; the trees were often infused with life magic just to keep them going in the face of all the smog.

On the street below, she watched ponies drearily going about their daily lives by the light of the setting sun. A pink mare with a kerchief around her flattened mane was corralling some foals safely away from the street. A school wagon, long finished with its rounds, was lumbering slowly back to its home for the night. A few ne’er-do-well colts wearing hoodies were kicking a ball around and generally loitering. Quantum saw them all, yet barely noticed any of them. She was waiting for a familiar, cyan-blue mare to emerge from The Hungry Ursa and head home. Had she just missed her? Surely Trixie would be heading home by now – she was always home in time to make dinner.

Sighing deeply, the minty mare slumped her shoulders. She’d always come home from school with the expectation that dinner would be there, and couldn’t recall a time when she’d given a thought to what her mother must have gone through just to put it on the table every night. And she’d never seen Trixie wear such a ridiculous getup. The very thought of it all was like a blast of dragon fire to the kindling of her pride. How could she not have known?

Quantum’s reflection was broken by the sound of a hooftap at the door. She got up and clopped halfway across the room before she took note of the bathtowel she’d left folded neatly on the bed – it reminded her that she still reeked of turnip rum, and was in need of a shower. The thought of answering the door smelling like cheap booze made her hesitate, and for a moment she just stood there, hoping whoever it was would just go away.

Knock knock knock

No such luck. The minty mare-turned-stallion sighed, completed her trek across the tiny room, and opened the door with a magical nudge from her horn. In the hallway stood a forest green pegasus mare with a lavender mane, long eyelashes, and an outfit very similar to what Quantum saw her mother wearing downstairs. She was wearing eyeshadow to match her mane color, and sported a cutie mark of a pink heart with a white picket fence around it on her flank. The mare flexed her wings, batted her lashes over her vermillion eyes, and smiled warmly.

“Hi pony,” she cooed, “are you gonna let me in, or just stand in the doorway gawking all night long?”

“Uh, oh—uh,” Stupidly Quantum stepped aside, and the mare sauntered in on her heels, kicking them off the moment she crossed the threshold. As Quantum let the door shut, the mare raised herself from the carpet and flitted over to the bed, where she sat rubbing her rear hooves with her front ones.

“Tch,” she breathed, “If we were meant to wear shoes like that we’d all have been born with spikes on the backs of our hooves. But you know how it is. This is a unicorn hangout,” she looked up, eyeing Quantum, “and you ‘horn’ stallions don’t like your mares floating around the room all the time.”

Quantum just nodded, cocking her head to the side quizzically at the newcomer who seemed to have no qualms about making herself right at home in Draw’s room. When the mare looked up and noticed Quantum had neither moved nor spoke, she patted the bed beside her and smiled warmly.

“Sit with me, sweetie?”

Quantum hesitated. The mare’s expression faltered.

“What’s the matter, Draw? I don’t bite,” she grinned, “Well, not unless you want me to, that is. I heard about the pot you lost today. That was a pretty good-sized pile of bits. Not like you at all, but I guess nopony can have your kind of luck all the time.”

“R-right,” Quantum laughed, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. Cautiously she approached the bed. At the green mare’s behest, she sat down on the very edge and glanced down into her own lap.

The pegasus frowned and patted the same spot as before. “I could fit three fat griffons in the distance between you and me. That’s not like you either.” She paused, sighing, “This is about Twiggy, isn’t it.”

“T-Twiggy?” Quantum could barely bring herself to utter that sultry pseudonym for her mother. “O-of course not? I mean, no, of course not! Why would you, um…think there was something going on with me and my own moth—Twiggy?”

The mare sat up straight and folded her forelegs. “Drop the act. Swizzle told me what happened. She said, ‘Cozy Hearth, you won’t believe who your stallion was trying to pick up today!’”

With much ado, Quantum slipped and promptly fell off the end of the bed, landing hard on her rump. She sputtered, rubbing her stinging backside, “What!? I wasn’t trying to pick mo-Twiggy up! Where the heck did anypony get that idea!? I just wanted to…uh…help her clean up!”

Cozy Hearth, the forest green pegasus mare, giggled merrily at her companion’s exasperation. She spread her wings and glided gracefully down from the bed to perch upon ‘Draw’, pinning ‘him’ to the carpeted floor. She huffed out a breath that was so close, Quantum could feel its warmth pass over her muzzle.

“I knew it was a misunderstanding the moment I heard it.”

With that, Cozy nuzzled Quantum’s cheek, and promptly planted a single, light kiss on the end of the minty mare’s snout. Going cross-eyed from the closeness, Quantum kicked her way out from under the pegasus and scooted along the floor on her rump until her back came up against a bookshelf. Wide-eyed and stiff shouldered, she glanced around for an escape route while Cozy closed the distance at a crawl, a sly grin on her face.

“Is it because you smell?” Her voice tinkled along the air to Quantum’s ears, “It wouldn’t be the first time you came home smelling like the whole first floor does anyway.” Flicking her wing out sharply, she caught the towel on the bed and sent it expertly sailing through the air until it landed in a heap just in front of the minty mare, “Besides, all it means is that I’m just in time for your bath. You want to get all nice and clean, don’t you?”

Cozy slithered over the towel and picked it up in her teeth. Sliding closer to her beau, she batted her wings in such a way that great gouts of her elegant perfume were packed tightly into Quantum’s nostrils. When the two were nearly nose to nose, Cozy paused, as if waiting for Quantum to do something.

Quantum did do something. She levitated the towel over Cozy’s eyes like a shield and scrambled up, putting a few hooves of distance between the two ponies before the green mare could shrug the towel off.

This time, Cozy Hearth’s frown lacked any playful edges. “Pony, what’s wrong? You can tell your Cozy all about it. Is it because you lost that hand?” The pegasus turned around and sat up, concern in her eyes. “Sweetie, I know a stallion has his pride, but it’s gonna happen now and then. Tilt is an idiot. He’ll come back tomorrow, all smug and sure of himself, and you’ll burn him down to his tail like you always do, and get your money back. I can wait until then.”

Wait? Quantum thought, wait for what? Just as soon as the question entered Quantum’s mind, she came up with an answer. Of course. It was so obvious. Clopping over to the nightstand, she slid the drawer open and came upon a bag she’d found shortly after being introduced to the room, that was laden with bits. Drawing out an ample supply, she levitated them over to the bookshelf and sat them in a pile right next to the pegasus mare’s head. She grinned, satisfied with herself. “Why wait? I can pay you right now!”

Cozy glanced at the pile of bits, noting the amount of them…and scowled. With a flourish, she batted the entire pile off the shelf, scattering the money all over the floor. “I don’t need your charity, Draw! And do you think I came up here tonight just to collect my fee so blatantly? How vulgar!” In a huff, she drew herself to her hooves and tossed the towel in Quantum’s face. “There’s a reason I keep a room for myself, even if I don’t use it much. I guess tonight is one of those times where it will come in handy. Goodnight!” With that, the petite, deceptively fragile-looking green flower of a mare stamped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Quantum heard a clapping noise before she could get the towel off her face.

“Two towels in the face from two different mares in the same day,” came a familiar voice, “You’re batting a thousand. Gigolos everywhere would be proud.”

Quantum cast the towel back onto the bed and glowered at the pudgy, gaudy, toasty orange form of Hal, who was reclining on the windowsill. “My tail doesn’t swing that way,” she protested, “and you realize you could have just clopped in on me in the shower, right?”

Hal smirked. “What is it with mares and the bathroom? You’d look exactly the same in there, only wet. And don’t forget – you’re wearing a stallion’s tail today, and the one you have on most definitely does swing that way. Head and hooves in the game, remember? You don’t have to bed ‘em, but at least try to act interested. Besides,” Hal commented wryly, “how would you even know anything about tail swinging? I never saw you clop around campus with a stallion or a mare on your leg.”

Quantum blushed deeply. “I…I had research to do. So did you.”

Hal just shook his head, “I at least went to parties now and then. There’s more to life than just studying all the time.”

“Hal,” Quantum sighed with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance, “what am I doing here? Is something going to happen to my mother?” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she was already heading for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“My house, duh,” Quantum shot back. “I have to find my mother and figure out how I’m going to save her from…all of this, and that disgusting ‘Tilt’ character. He’s obviously lording something over her. She’d never reduce herself to using a pet name and hanging out with a slug like that in a seedy dive like this.”

“Sit your stubborn backside down,” Hal ordered. “You’re not doing anything of the sort.”

“Hal,” Quantum practically growled, “I know what everypony thinks of my mother, but she’s the only family I’ve got, and I’m going to help her if I can. Don’t get in my way.”

Hal shook his frosted mane, whipped out his control device, and started booping away. “That’s not what I mean. First of all, you sat through elementary temporal theory the same as I did, and you know as well as I do that meeting a previous version of yourself could cause a paradox that might potentially rip a hole in the space time continuum. In this timeline, you’re thirteen years old and you’re most definitely home from school right now, so going to your house is probably, I dunno, the worst possible idea? Secondly,” Hal paused to beep again, “Tissy doesn’t have any readings on your mother.”

Quantum blinked, “So?”

“So,” Hal replied with no small amount of sarcasm, “if you’d let me finish I’ll explain why that’s significant. Tissy did some more tests and was able to determine that your actions aren’t likely to have any significant effect on the lives of ponies that have no variable causality readings. Swizzle isn’t showing any readings either. Neither are Hole Card, Short Stack, or Slow Play. It means that if you’re going to do some good in the here and now, you need to focus either on Draw Out, Tilt, or possibly that mare that was just in here, Cozy Hearth.” Hal paused to beep again, “By the way, she’s twenty-three years old, mother of six, and is so full-time here she doesn’t go home much. No local family, but she has a special deal with an older couple that run a daycare. Almost all her money goes to her kids and her rent.”

“Six foals?” Quantum asked.

“Three foals, two colts, one filly…no twins,” Hal replied.

Quantum stared at the door, suddenly feeling remorseful. “But you said she’s only twenty-three…”

Hal looked up from his device. He wasn’t smiling. “Cutie, life isn’t all about staring at the stars, rubbing hooves with princesses, and going to college. Some ponies don’t get all the breaks.” He glanced back at his screen, “Cozy Hearth was disowned by her family in Manehatten for getting pregnant when she was seventeen. She didn’t graduate from school and has no credentials to get a decent job, so all she has to make money off of is her pretty face. As far as Tissy can tell, Cozy did whatever was necessary to keep her clients. Cozy’s damn lucky somepony was willing to help her out, or else her young ones would be living in this building with her.

Quantum was looking in the mirror at her alter ego; considering his dashing features. She had to admit, he was a handsome stallion. “Are any of the kids…Draw’s?”

Hal booped, “Twenty-eight point nine percent chance. There are also a laundry list of other names on here that have percentage chances listed, but Cozy apparently spends most of her nights with Draw. Tissy’s running a few more causality strings on her right now, to see if there’s anything nasty coming up in her future.”

Quantum perked up, “Hey, this should be no problem, right?” She smiled, glancing back at her companion eagerly, “She needs money, right? Draw has lots of bits. If I just give her some—”

“Woah, pony,” Hal flicked a wing and held up a hoof, “stop right there. You saw what happened when you tried to just blatantly give her a large sum of money. She’s a working mare and she has a respectful amount of pride. Plus, and need I remind you of this, if you stray too far from your host’s personality, you could cause any number of unpredictable rifts in spacetime. Draw Out’s profile says he’s not a total scumbag, but he has a tendency to objectify mares and the only reason nopony accuses him of having a gambling problem is that he usually wins.”

The minty mare looked back at the golden stallion in the mirror, who matched her worried look. She suspected it was probably uncharacteristic of him to look that way. “I…I can’t do that,” she watched Draw Out say. “I barely know how to play poker, and objectifying mares…I mean…I’m a mare. That’s like the cosmic joke of a lifetime.”

Hal cast his gaze out the window, looking upon the rapidly darkening street. Lights were popping on one-by-one, and the remaining ponies that were still out were shady looking to say the least. “Tissy says that four days from now, Draw Out and Tilt are going to end up in a knife fight. Cozy tries to break it up and Tilt kills her in a fit of rage.” Hal swallowed, “…Tilt finally goes to jail, but that’s small comfort for Cozy’s kids. eighty-four point six percent chance.”

Quantum blanched. “What if I just leave town for four days?”

Hal booped lazily, and shook his head. “Rises to ninety-two point one percent. Tissy doesn’t know why.” He eyed his friend, “For some reason, Draw needs to be there. If you want those kids not to lose their mother, you’re gonna have to be a chauvinistic stallion until Tissy can figure out what you can do to prevent it. Draw is still in the picture when Cozy gets murdered, so obviously just his presence isn’t going to be enough.”

Quantum moved away from the mirror. She didn’t get halfway across the small room before Hal stopped her.

“Don’t walk like that,” Hal ordered. Quantum looked back at her rump.

“Walk like what?”

“You’re swinging your hips too much. Stallions don’t move like that. And don’t bat your eyes all the time.” Hal flitted over, landed next to Quantum, knelt a bit, and began poking his holographic hoof randomly through her body.

“St-stop that,” Quantum blushed, “A-and I’m not batting, I’m squinting. Force of habit. I didn’t get my first pair of glasses until I was almost eight.”

“Head up,” Hal commanded, ignoring the minty mare’s protests. “Shoulders back. This guy is proud of himself. Smile slyly, not genuinely. Douse yourself in too much stallion musk after you take a bath. Talk to those sleazy poker players down there like they’re your friends. Laugh loudly, and obnoxiously. Smack mares on the rump as they clop by,” Hal looked up seriously, “Any mare that clops by.”

Quantum got a horrifying mental image, and narrowed her eyes. “If you think for one solitary second that I’m going to smack my own mother’s behind and grin at her when she walks past me, you’ve got one additional think coming for every hoof I have to pound you with! You’re disgusting!”

Hal’s expression didn’t change. He adjusted his pocket protector, straightened his garish collar, and stood up straight. “And don’t judge a book by its cover. How would you like it if I called you a weak little mare that should just go home and make me a sandwich?”

Infuriated, Quantum took a swing at her classmate. The blow passed harmlessly through Hal’s forehead. He didn’t flinch.

“Well,” he went on, “that’s how I feel when you call me ‘disgusting’. For the next four days you’re one of those punks downstairs, so get used to it. Since you already pissed Cozy off, nopony’s likely to come calling tonight, so you’re going to stay here with me until I’m sure you’re walking and talking at least well enough to fake your way by. When I’m satisfied, then you’re going to sleep. You need your rest. Call room service for your dinner too, because I’m not having you get lightheaded from hunger tomorrow.”

Quantum glanced down at the beige carpet. She dug a track in it with her hoof and felt a bluegreen warmth grow on her cheeks. “…I’m sorry,” she apologized softly. “Thanks for helping me, Hal.”

Hal grinned an honest grin. “I’m sorry too. I told you Cutie, you’re my friend. I’m looking out for you, even if I have to beat help into you by force.

For the next three hours, Quantum Trots the unicorn mare learned how to be Draw Out the unicorn stallion. She practiced her walk, practiced her talk, nailed down the basics of poker, ate dinner liberally, learned a few crass pickup lines from a book under the nightstand, and laughed more than she had in weeks. By the time the moon was high in the night sky, she felt her confidence rising. Maybe she really could pull this one off.

Coming down from laughter of his own, Hal adopted a thoughtful expression. “You know, I just realized something. Cutie, can you hold your liquor?”

“Hold it?” Quantum laughed, “Sure. The glass can’t be that heavy, can it?”

“That’s not what I…oh forget it,” Hal sighed, “I’ve never seen you take a drink of anything in all the time I’ve known you, and you’re small to boot. We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Quantum changed the subject. “Hal…how can you be so sure I’ll be here for the four days we need to save Cozy? Wasn’t it just luck that my molecules didn’t destabilize until the apple harvest thing was worked out?”

Hal, who had returned to his perch on the windowsill, shrugged. “Truth be told? We can’t be sure of anything. Tissy’s got enough data now to put together a working theory. The way she sees it, the molecular destabilization that’s responsible for your repeated vaulting without actually having to return to the Accelerator has a pattern to it – it always seems to happen shortly after the one event that has the strongest causality strings attached to it. For example, you vaulted when the apple harvest problem was resolved, but we were never able to get accurate readings on Applejack herself, meaning that her fate wasn’t the most pivotal event occurring at the time. Oh, and to put your mind at ease, I did some checking and found out that Applejack is alive and well in our time. That reality…there’s just no way to know if that was ours or not.”

Quantum let out a relieved breath. Just as quickly, she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Glad to hear that, but…what about that…’other’ place? Who, or what, is ‘Mane Saiah’?”

Hal quieted, his expression falling away. “We don’t know. There’s no evidence that civilization you were in existed at all, but it was so long ago in the timestream….we just don’t have records that go back that far. As for that colt…we really don’t know why he was important, either. Tissy’s equipment tried to scan him for a profile, but then it just went berserk. I’ve never seen Tissy like that before. She looked…” Hal swallowed, “She looked scared. She just kept telling me to make sure you saved him.” With that, the orange pegasus leaned back and let out a dreary, tired breath. “Tissy wouldn’t explain anything, but that’s par for the course with her. Meantime, you and I both need to get some rest. As for why your molecular structure seems to be attuned to the most pivotal events…I know you don’t want to hear this, but we don’t know that either. It just turned out that way. At the very least, it helps us to identify the most likely reason for your being here.”

Quantum sat on the bed. For a time, she couldn’t speak. Images of that empty white place flowed through her mind like water; the current bringing along with it the strange white pony with the black face, and the multitude of shadow creatures that cried liberally for her blood.

“I…I think I know why,” she finally said.

Quantum told her tale. Sharing that bizarre, disturbing experience calmed and centered her. When she finished, Hal took out his device and thoroughly scanned his classmate with it.

“I’m not getting anything that corroborates what you saw in that place. Let me take what you told me back to Tissy and see if we can work something out. While I’m at it, I’ll try to find records for a pegasus named Cozy Hearth in our time. If she’s alive, well…at least we know you have a chance of solving this, right?”

Quantum looked away. “You don’t have to do that. This isn’t our reality.”

“Oh? And how do you know that?”

The minty mare hesitated. “You said that Tissy has no readings on my mother. If I can’t do anything to change her situation while I’m here, then this can’t be our reality. When I was thirteen my mother was working odd jobs in Baltimare. Laundry, cooking, cleaning houses…she even did carpentry for a while.” She indicated the room with a mocking gesture, “there’s no way she’d be working in what basically amounts to a unicorn brothel.”

“Are you sure that’s what your mother was doing while you were in school?”

Quantum sighed, “…that’s what she told me.”

Hal’s eyebrows rose with concern, but he let the subject drop. “Eyes on the prize and hooves in the game, Cutie. Six young ones are depending on you. I’ll come back when I find out anything that might be helpful. Lay low and see what you can learn for now.”

Hal booped a colorful button, and the sheet of white light that lead back to 2039 opened up. He paused before stepping through.

“Cutie, if what you said about that white space is true…it answers a lot of questions. The way the Accelerator malfunctioned is so specific, well…” he paused, “…it just seems unlikely so many things could go so dramatically wrong in such an exact way.”

“What are you saying?” Quantum perked up.

“I’m not saying anything. Like I told you before, we’re making this up as we go along. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hal vanished before the minty mare could say goodbye. Quantum fell asleep on her back, staring at the drab ceiling and thinking about the last words she shared with her mother back in prison, which were spoken in anger.

Who’s reality was this, anyway?

3.3 - Milk and Circumstance

April 10, 2027

Baltimare – The Hungry Ursa

Saturday

Immediately after breakfast, Quantum set out to find Cozy Hearth’s room without letting on that she was looking for it. She swaggered around the halls on several floors, grinning and nodding at the mares she encountered while simultaneously trying not to feel like a complete idiot, until she found the forest green pegasus on the third floor. Summoning up her quick-study training, Quantum somehow managed to apologize for Draw’s previous behavior without compromising his persona, while at the same time weaseling out of any request to join Cozy Hearth privately in her….cozy hearth. Satisfied with her performance and feeling proud of herself, Quantum wandered downstairs to check on any new developments.

The only difference between night and day at the Hungry Ursa was the reduced number of four-legged barflies taking up space on the seats. Quantum nearly gacked on the cigar smoke yet again, but managed to repress the urge. Swizzle was minding the bar, cleaning glasses and looking mostly still asleep. The room was mostly devoid of life, save for the same table Quantum found herself at the day before. Hole Card stood up and merrily waved

“Draw! Right on time! I’ll deal you in!”

Quantum wandered over to the table. Slow Play and Short Stack where in the exact same chairs, in the exact same positions they had been the night before. Tilt, on the other hoof, was nowhere to be found. “Don’t you, uh…have to go to work or something?”

“Psh, nah,” Hole Card grinned, encouraging Quantum to sit, “its Saturday. Best thing about municipal labor jobs is you get your weekends off!”

Having nothing better to do and no real way to get out of it, Quantum sat upon the offered cushion-chair and allowed Hole Card to deal her into the game. She was about to get up again and make an excuse as to how she forgot her money, when she noticed a pile of bits was already there at her seat. She stared at the random cash just long enough to draw attention.

“What’sa matter,” Short stack croaked, “Ain’t never seen yer own dough before?”

The unicorns laughed; Quantum was obliged to join them just to save face. Swizzle called out from behind the bar.

“Hey sugahcube! You watch yourself and don’t lose all that bread in one place. Remember,” she indicated herself, grinning, “I’m the bank, and if you blow through all that, I’m takin’ your rent out of what’s left!”

Quantum ‘ohhed’ to herself, putting two and two together. She glanced around the table until a glass of something white was sat heavily down beside her. She looked up to see Swizzle, made up well even at this time of morning, grinning down at her.

“Milk,” she stated flatly, “Drink it all, and don’t you even ask me for any rum this time of day.”

“Thanks,” Quantum smiled, levitating the glass and taking a sip of the cool, refreshing liquid. Swizzle waved her hoof at the table with no small amount of annoyance.

“Same goes for all you fish. If it weren’t for me, you all would have drunk yourselves to death a long time ago.”

Short Stack grinned his broad, piglike grin, reached out, and openly smacked Swizzle on the rump. “These wet behind the ears colts ain’t got no idea what they missed in our day, Swizzy-baby.” He glanced around the table, letting out a boisterous laugh, “They didn’t call her ‘Swizzle Stick’ back then for nothin’!”

Rather than the offense Quantum expected the distinguished earth mare to take, Swizzle only grinned and drew her hoof along Short Stack’s bulbous jaw line. “Fresh as you were when you were just a pissass colt yourself. Keep keepin’ the stallions in line for me, hmm sugah?”

Short Stack grinned like a schoolcolt and nodded until Swizzle clopped away. Quantum cleared her throat and made an effort not to blush.

“C’mon,” Slow Play announced, “Let’s play cards! I got bits to burn here!”

Quantum wiled away the rest of her morning at the card table, and was surprised to find that she was at least able to hold her own – finesse and strategy were lost on her, but her natural mind for figures and probability stood in as at least a passable substitute. Either her companions weren’t all that good at the game, or they were just taking it easy on her. Either way, she played down every hand she lost by claiming she ‘meant to do that’, just to ‘throw a bit’ to one of her ‘sorry friends’. The ruse worked. Quantum even went so far as to keep an eye on the stallion’s restroom, so she could be certain it was empty whenever she had to go. She didn’t care what Hal said about appearances – she was not going in there when it was occupied. By the time Slow Play busted out and Short Stack lost interest, the minty mare was proud to see that she had just about as many bits in front of her as she did when the game started hours before, not to mention a new perspective on the unicorn stallions that were supposed to be her friends for the next few days.

Hole Card eyed his bits from table level. He held a hoof overtop of them; trying to measure the pile from the memory. His hoof was significantly higher off the table than the bits were piled. Shrugging, he sighed and sat back, taking a sip of some bubbly, clear liquid at his side.

“Meh, oh well,” he remarked cheerfully, “Paychecks are paychecks. Guess you better deal me out, before I don’t have enough left for the bills!”

Quantum favored the lighthearted stallion with a smile. “You’re awfully chipper with your money.”

“Nah,” Hole Card grinned, “It’s just…it’s only money, you know? So long as I have enough left over to keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach, why not have fun with the rest?” He levitated the deck with his horn and began shuffling it in midair, “I like cards, you know? So where’s the harm?”

“You’d make a good father,” Quantum commented, impressed by the red stallion’s easygoing demeanor.

Hole Card’s smile faded, “What?”

“O-oh, uh,” Quantum felt her freckled cheeks warming up a bit, and wondered what color they were this time. Hole Card had a nice face and a good spirit – he was a bit rowdy, but in him she saw something a bit deeper than most of the rest of the denizens of this place. “I just meant, you know…if that special mare comes along someday?”

The red unicorn made a bemused face. “What are you talking about? You know I only go for stallions.” He smirked, “If I didn’t like the game here better, I’d be at that club on Lambda Street. You know the one.”

Quantum was, with some effort, able to keep her jaw off of the table. Turning her now flaming face away from her companion, she started when her eyes came face to face with a huge patch of cyan blue. Looking up, she realized she was looking right into the lively, violet eyes of her mother. Dressed just like yesterday, Trixie had a serving plate balanced on the end of her hoof. With a look of disdain, she levitated a glass from the plate to the table and unwittingly served alcohol to her daughter.

“First drink of the day,” Trixie harumphed, “Swizzle can set her watch by your sobriety, you disdainful little creature.”

“Mom-err-ma…” the minty mare coughed, grinning like a centerfold model, “…mama, uh…heya. How ya doin’…sugarcube?”

Hole Card sputtered, nearly laughing up his drink. Quantum mentally smacked herself, praying never again in her life would she be placed in a situation where she felt the need to call her own mother ‘sugarcube’. Trixie, scowling, turned on her high heels and sauntered away to make friendly conversation with some other patrons.

I will not smack mom’s butt, Quantum repeated over and over in her head, I will not smack mom’s butt, Hal I don’t care what’s riding on it, I will not smack mom’s butt—

“Geez,” Hole Card whistled, “Draw, you got balls like solid rocks. Didn’t we talk about this? And you’re still hitting on Twiggy? Do you want Tilt to give you some concrete horseshoes to wear to the pier one of these nights?”

“Why is she with him?” Quantum asked, fixing the red pony with a stare, “Do you know?”

Hole Card shrugged. “Not really. It wasn’t always like that with the two of them. Actually kind of surprising if you ask me – Twiggy always seemed like she was just here to serve drinks, instead of taking the job to the next level. But you know Tilt. He gets what he wants. And I guess he wanted her.”

Quantum envisioned the creamy unicorn thug with his hooves around her mother. Her brow hardened into a quiet fury. “She’s a powerful mag—I mean…I heard ‘Twiggy’ is a powerful magician. She shouldn’t be putting up with crap like that.”

“Money talks, Draw buddy. You know that. Waiting tables and serving drinks all by itself don’t pay much. I would think you’d know that, considering everypony around here knows how often you shack up with Cozy Hearth,” Hole Card smiled, “I’d say ‘nice catch’, but she’s a little too mare for my tastes, if you know what I mean. You gonna drink your drink or what?”

Quantum eyed the little tumbler full of foul-smelling turnip rum. She had no interest in alcohol, but Hal was right about one thing…a part had to be played. Taking in a deep breath and holding it, she levitated the glass to her lips and downed the whole thing in a single gulp. Pure, molten fire slid down her throat. She sputtered and coughed, involuntarily slamming the table three times with her hoof and drawing amused stares from some of the other patrons.

“Wow!” Hole Card laughed, “That’ll put draft pony hair on your pasterns! Who are you trying to impress, buddy? That was a whole drink, not a shot!”

Quantum ordered another drink just to save face, but this time did little more than sip idly at it, taking in as little as possible of the disgusting concoction. She never did know what ponies saw in alcohol, and now she was quite sure she’d never understand. Hole Card leaned in a bit.

“You know,” he grinned, “If you really want to see more of Twiggy, just hang out for a couple hours. She’s up tonight.”

“‘Up’?” Quantum repeated.

Hole Card nodded at the stage on the opposite side of the room. “You know, ‘up’. It’s her show tonight. Just hang out and you’ll see plenty, ya know?”

“She does magic here?” Quantum brightened.

The red pony frowned. “…I guess if you want to call it that. Just try staying out of Cozy’s wings for one night and you’ll find out.” With that, Hole Card rose to his hooves and patted Quantum on the shoulder in passing. “Anyway, nice hanging out with you as always. Performance nights aren’t my thing. Bet you can guess why. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

The red unicorn with the vibrant yellow mane clopped away. Alone at the table, the mint-coated mare watched her mother acting friendly with sluggish characters Quantum knew Trixie would normally have slapped in the face and then blasted to smithereens just for looking at her.

Quantum thought about what her thirteen-year-old self was doing right now, and reasoned she was probably in the middle of AP Physics. Tonight, she would come home to a lovely dinner, do her homework, have some laughs with that older mare over there in the fishnets, and then go merrily (and obliviously) to bed.

Shame darkened Quantum’s features like a blackened bruise. She gritted her teeth. To hell with Hal, and to hell with numbers. Tonight, Quantum was going to talk to her mother again.

There were two days left. What could it hurt?

3.4 - Not Your Momma's Hocus-Pocus

April 10, 2027

Baltimare – The Hungry Ursa

Saturday Evening

Quantum splashed on an extra thick layer of stallion musk, slicked back Draw’s mane, and strutted from his room with a now practiced air. It was probably overkill for a magic show, but she still felt a desire to look nice – if she couldn’t do it her own way, she’d have to do it the stallion way. She couldn’t help but feel a small jitter of excitement rolling to the surface of her consciousness. When she was a foal, her mother’s magic was something to be amazed by, and she remembered spending many a night dazzled by all the fireworks and pretty colors. It would be a wonderful thing to see it all again, even if she had to pretend she was somepony else. As she meandered down an empty hallway, a sheet of white light appeared and vanished beside her. Her ears swiveled like satellite dishes to pick up the familiar sounds of beeping and booping.

“Nice figure you’re cutting,” Hal appraised, floating in place on his wings. “And you’ve even got the swanky grin down. I’m a better teacher than I thought.”

Quantum shook her head, ruffling her mane, and caught a glimpse of her dapper stallion self in a mirror as she passed. “When in Baltimare, do as the Baltimarians do, right?” She puffed up with pride. This was the city she grew up in, after all. Who was anypony else to get in her way?

“Gonna snuggle in front of somepony’s cozy hearth?” Hal grinned, “Good mare. I knew you had it in you.”

“Nah,” Quantum replied smugly. “Going to the show.”

“The what?”

“My mom is doing a magic show tonight,” Quantum grinned. “I’m sure everypony will be there. It would probably look bad if I skipped it, right? Plus the opportunities for intel…you know?”

Hal’s smile vanished. He flitted into his classmate’s path, causing the minty mare to reflexively stop short. “Your mother is not why you’re here. Stop wasting time with her.”

Quantum felt a swathe of indignity slither up her neck and ooze onto her muzzle, contorting her expression. “It’ll be fine, and I don’t recall making you the boss of me. Cozy Hearth will probably be there. After the show I’ll talk to her. Promise.”

“Probably?” Hal repeated, booping buttons liberally. “Would you like me to tell you what the percentage chance Cozy will be murdered two days from now is? Because it just got a little higher. Not that you apparently care.”

“That’s not fair. Of course I care what happens to Cozy Hearth. I just…” as quickly as Quantum’s eyes narrowed, her brows rose. “Hal…please. Just let me have this, okay? I realize that twelve years from now my mother is going to become a homicidal maniac, but…I have to know why. Even if the numbers say I can’t do anything to help her. Plus,” the minty mare suddenly found herself staring at the floor, “…I miss her magic shows.”

Hal’s determined jawline quivered slightly. Letting out a deep sigh, he landed on his hooves and took a step out of the way. “Just don’t get distracted. If what you told me about that ‘white space’ wasn’t a hallucination, there’s a lot more riding on this than we thought before.” He paused, somewhat uncertainly, and tried to offer a reassuring smile. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will.” Quantum nodded. She made for the stairs and heard the whooshing noise consistent with Hal’s departure behind her, but his voice came to her hears one more time before she picked up the portal closing.

“Cutie…try not to get upset. Head and hooves in the game.”

“Huh?” Quantum turned her head just quickly enough to see…an empty corridor. Scrunching her muzzle in thought, she eventually shrugged and continued down the four flights of stairs to the parlor and bar area, this time preparing herself for the wall of cigar smoke that caught up with her two flights before she got there.

The large room wasn’t as she remembered it. The bar was still there, but all the tables and cushioned seats had been rearranged and gathered closer to the stage. The green felt was gone from the tabletops, replaced by a lacquered, sumptuous wood grain the matched the bar itself. Dipping her head just long enough to peer, Quantum noticed that the green gaming felt was on the underside of each table, suggesting the furniture could be modified for convenience. The lighting in the room was diminished even more than usual, such that each table had a small lamp upon it, paired with a tiny vase supporting a single, fresh red rose. Most of the tables were occupied with patrons who looked as much like the riff-raff Quantum was getting used to seeing at the Hungry Ursa, with a few more nicely dressed ponies and a fair number of working mares sprinkled in. Quantum proceeded into the room with her teeth grinding under her lip. How many local mares needed to seek employment in a place like this?

As soon as Quantum noticed the table containing Short Stack and Slow Play, she gravitated towards them and shared some pleasantries, forcing herself to grin too much at the nameless mare who put a drink in front of her. There was little left to do but sit wait until the stage curtain went up.

“Nice, uh…nice turn out,” Quantum observed, levitating her drink and moving it around just to hold it.

Slow Play guffawed through his buck teeth, “Always is when Twiggy’s playin’!”

Quantum, stars in her eyes, ohhed at the quiet stage. “What does she play? A cello? A violin? I bet she could play three violins at the same time with her magic…”

Short Stack snorted. He really did sound more like a pig than a pony. “Yeah, heh. A cello. Bet that’s what the bow is for. A cello!”

The minty mare turned golden stallion felt a hoof slap her withers yet again; the blow punctuated by cackling laughter from her own table and the two nearest. She tried to laugh along, but confusion bent her voice out of shape and left her with nothing but a croak to work with. She thought about trying to get some more information, but a sudden, drastic lowering of what little lighting there was in the room drew her attention to the stage. Swizzle, caked in makeup and decked out in her cabaret finest, was standing at a microphone, smiling broadly.

“Stallions, mares…nags,” several voices in the audience rose in laughter, “I know all you sugahcubes out there don’t wanna her me croakin’ along up here all night. So I’ll get right into it. Tonight, we have the distinct pleasure of the company of one of our very own, the very best hocus-pocus of the Great and Powerful Twiggy!”

The crowd roared. The curtain rose.

Quantum gaped.

There, wrapped in a long, silken black cape with a high collar, red liner, and matching wide-brimmed, pointed hat, was Quantum’s mother, Trixie Lulamoon. The cyan mare was sprawled out on a posh chaise lounge, bedecked in an overabundance of eyeshadow and blush to match her violet eyes. She batted her curled lashes at the audience and shifted her body under the cloak; her provocative movements drawing cat-calls from the assembled patrons. In a dark corner of the stage, a brown unicorn was levitating a saxophone to his lips and leaking out a steamy, lurid tune. When the music swelled a bit, Trixie ignited her horn and blew the cape away, exposing her usual ‘work uniform’. To the tune of the music, she then began to saunter around the stage, moving with a slowness and poise that made her daughter blush. When Trixie reached the microphone, her high-pitched, melodious voice joined the song of brass and created something Quantum would have found beautiful, had it not been so utterly and painfully devoid of any sense of taste.

Quantum felt her cheeks turn into small volcanoes. Caught in the spotlights, she stared openly at her mother as the older mare clopped around the stage and then moved out into the audience with the levitated microphone; drawing her hooves under chins and making cooing noises that were once only meant for a certain little filly’s bedtime. When Trixie started sitting in laps, Quantum was digging a hoof into the carpeting so hard that it was scraping against the subflooring. Short Stack leaned in.

“I know why ya want Twiggy, kid,” he squawked, “Ain’t no pony here that can blame ya. She’s somethin’ else, eh?”

The younger Lulamoon wasn’t listening. When the elder Lulamoon slithered by her daughter’s table, she favored both Short Stack and Slow Play with beckoning glances. She was about to do the same for Draw Out, despite how she had acted towards ‘him’ earlier, but Quantum’s visceral glare actually made Trixie flinch and back away to another table. Soon after, she retreated back to the stage entirely to finish her sultry number. Quantum heard a by now familiar whooshing noise that no other pony could hear, accompanied by a momentary bright light no other pony could see.

“I told you not to get upset,” Hal hesitated from somewhere behind Quantum’s left ear. “Cutie…you know what kind of place this is. You…know what ponies who would come to a place like this would want to see.”

Quantum said nothing. Her deepening grimace spoke for her. Hal’s eyebrows peaked in the center of his forehead.

“Cutie,” he warned, “You have to keep it together. Don’t do anything stupid. A mare’s life is at stake. A mare with a family who depends on her. Just calm down. Twiggy—I mean Trixie—”

That name. That infernal pet name borne from dirty, scummy ponies that weren’t fit to pour pee out of her mother’s heels had been drilled into the elder mare’s head so completely that even she was calling herself ‘The Great and Powerful Twiggy.’ It was insufferable. It was appalling. Quantum thought back. Back to the future, where her broken mother had said those cryptic words about having everything, including her purity, taken away from her.

Now the minty mare knew what those words meant.

Before Trixie could clear the front row of tables, she was swept off her hooves by a certain familiar looking, creamy coated, hungrily grinning unicorn. Tilt had a feral look in his eye, and the crowd was making ‘oh la la’ noises. Tilt drew in close. Trixie giggled.

Quantum saw the slightest, easily missed hint of hesitation in her mother’s face. It was all she needed to see.

Calmly, evenly, the stallion known as Draw Out rose from his seat and clopped towards the stage. Every eye followed his approach, save for those of Tilt and Trixie. With a stygian stillness on her borrowed muzzle, Quantum made Draw Out tap Tilt patiently on the shoulder. The moment Tilt’s face was in view, Quantum spun on her front hooves, snapped her rear knees like a mousetrap, and bucked him as hard as she could, right in his clammy, lecherous face. Tilt’s neck snapped back, and he was flung backwards into the stairs so hard, he crumpled under the impact. The music stopped.

“Wh-what the hell are you doing!?” Hal shouted amongst the shocked murmurs from the audience. “A fight is what causes this whole problem to begin with, and you’re picking one!?”

Tilt didn’t move again, but Quantum couldn’t see anything but white hot anger before her eyes. She loomed over the muscular stallion she’d felled with a cheap shot, and was ready to capitalize on his helplessness by rearing up to pound him again, when three other large, ruthless-looking unicorns were suddenly between the minty mare and her quarry. The lead thug fixed Quantum with a murderous stare, dug his hoof into the carpet, and pushed a powerful breath from his nostrils that was visible in the smoke-filled haze. All three of their horns were glowing.

Quantum, heedless of the danger, ignited her own often-unused magic in response and stood her scrawny ground, ready to pounce upon whichever of her adversaries flinched first. Hal was shouting for her to back down, but as far as the minty mare was concerned, Tilt’s cronies could have numbered in the thousands. Somepony had touched her mother. Back home, Quantum had already blown ponies up for less than that. The lives of three sniveling thugs, no matter who their mommies were, added up at that moment to one hundred percent of zero when reflected in the minty mare’s blackened stare.

The lights rose. Before Quantum was able to rise to the attack, a midnight-coated earth pony with age wrinkles and a violet mane was standing in her way. Behind Swizzle were no less than half a dozen positively huge earth draft ponies, with expressions hewn from solid granite. Tilt’s thugs, large in their own right, were easily dwarfed by the new arrivals and the odds were now two-to-one. Swizzle waved her hoof at Tilt and barked at his now uneasy looking attaché.

“Take that outta here,” she ordered. “And don’t you come back in my place tonight!”

Quantum smiled with relief as the unicorns went to gather up their leader. She opened her mouth to offer her thanks, but Swizzle shut her down cold with an equally commanding air.

“And you!” The dowager matriarch preened, “Just where do you think you get off bustin’ up my customers? I don’t care who’s got a problem with who out on the street, but you do NOT bring your testosterone-fueled stallion pissing contests into my club, or so help me, I’ll have you run outta here so hard and so fast, you’ll won’t have enough pride, prowess, or the parts to please your next lady-friend, ya damn gelding!” She pointed at Tilt’s now empty table, “Now you park your ritzy rump down on that seat and mind the pathetic excuse for manners your poor old momma tried to give you until I allow you to go to your room!”

Quantum flattened her ears and sat where she was told to. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Short Stack. On his hooves, the grizzled, fat purple stallion was flanked by a group of ponies that seemed to have melted out of the very shadows to stand at his side. He held his hoof up and his troops backed down, disbursing along with the rest of the night crowd to the bar or various other attractions around the room.

Patrons began to go about their business. Some flipped tables back over to the gaming side and called servers for drinks as if nothing had happened. Others moved to the bar, sat talking amongst themselves, or just left altogether, while still a few more headed for their rented rooms. Some were disappointed by the apparent abrupt ending of Trixie’s ‘show’, and weren’t afraid to put these feelings into words. One young, brash looking colt reached out to try to smack the back of Quantum’s head in passing, but one of Swizzle’s bouncers stared him down.

Quantum sat in her place, her mind in turmoil over what she had witnessed that evening, until Swizzle and her guards slowly petered off to see to their establishment’s well-being. Just as she was thinking of getting up anyway, a hoof clamped softly down on her shoulder. She turned to the next seat, and found the forest-green, classically made up face of Cozy Hearth, who was favoring her with a worried look.

“Sweetie,” Cozy began, “What’s gotten into you? Are you sure you’re alright? I know you’ve been in some scuffles before, but if Swizzle’s bouncers hadn’t been there, Tilt’s cronies would have hung you out to dry. Even you wouldn’t bet on odds like that. Why do you keep provoking him?”

Quantum, her brow heavy, looked away from Draw Out’s consort. “…stop worrying so much about me. You’re cute. You’ll find another meal ticket if needs be.”

A second later, the minty mare’s face was introduced to a half-drunk quantity of foul-smelling turnip rum. Cozy Hearth rose to her hooves and bristled, flexing her wingtips like switchblades.

“You…you hornycorn jerk!” She sputtered, sniffling sharply. “Is that all I am to you? A cutie-marked rump to hump!? Did it ever occur to you for a single, solitary moment that you’re not the only stallion here a mare can make a dirty bit off of, and even with your poker winnings, you can’t hold a candle to the real sugar-daddies out there? Did you ever even bother to wonder why I spend more nights in your room than I do with my own children!?”

Quantum’s morose, self-pitying expression faltered when she looked into the vermillion eyes of the forest green pegasus before her. The words had been harsh, but the windows to Cozy Hearth’s soul were calling her a liar. Shame spread through the minty mare like fire engulfing a dead, dry forest, when she realized what Cozy was really trying to say.

“I,” Quantum started, “…wait, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean—”

But it was too late. In a crushed huff, Cozy Hearth flexed her wings, lifted herself to the stairs, and took them up and away at a gallop, leaving the minty mare turned golden stallion with nothing but a coat soaked once again in alcohol. Slightly behind where she had been sitting was Hal, poking gingerly at his control device.

“Congratulations, Cutie. You did it.”

Quantum cocked her head quizzically, glancing at the stairs out of the corner of her eye. “What?”

“It.” Hal repeated. “You just knocked forty percent off of the likelihood that Cozy Hearth will die two days from now. Tissy says that the most likely outcome by far now is that Cozy won’t even be there when the fight breaks out.” Hal paused, looking up at his classmate without raising his head. “But Draw Out? Draw Out is a goner. Ninety-three point seven says that sometime in the next two days, Tilt and his thugs are going to come for you. Cozy was what was preventing Draw’s death. So long as she doesn’t give enough of a pony’s behind to intercede on your behalf, you can kiss yourself goodbye. And if everything you and I have talked about is correct, this being the new causality with the highest percentage of occurring, you won’t vault until it’s resolved. So you either figure out how to keep Draw alive without going back to the original dilemma of Cozy Hearth dying instead, or chances are you’ll die with him.”

Quantum looked back at the stairs. “I…I didn’t mean to hurt her…” she murmured, “…I didn’t think she felt…”

“Felt what?” Hal scolded, slipping his device back into his pocket protector. “Like she had feelings for Draw Out? Are you an idiot? Do you need some colorful buttons to tell you that she’s head over hooves for him, even if he is a pig, and that she’s hoping once he realizes how she feels about him, he might just turn his life around and make her truly happy? She’s lonely, Cutie, and you,” Hal reached out and phased the tip of his hoof through Quantum’s nose, “are all she has, other than her children, to fill that huge, gaping hole right through the middle of her.”

Quantum looked down at her hooves, sighing, “Did Tissy find all that out?”

Hal shook his head at his device, which was sleeping peacefully in its sleeve. “No. I just told you, it’s plainer than the muzzle on your face.” He eyed his friend, never taking his gaze away, even when some random pony clopped right through him on the way to chat with some friends. “So what are you going to do now?”

Without Swizzle’s permission, Quantum glanced at the route to the upper floors, rose from her seat, and started clopping…towards the backstage entrance. Hal sputtered.

“Dammit Cutie! Enough with your mother! You’re doing to die! D-I-E! Doesn’t that mean anything to you!?”

“Hal…just leave me alone.”

“You stubborn daughter of a—fine!”

Quantum climbed the steps and wormed around the abandoned chaise lounge without looking back to watch her friend depart.

3.5 - A Smile Worth Ten-Thousand Lives

April 10, 2027

Baltimare – The Hungry Ursa

Saturday – Late Night

The backstage area at the Hungry Ursa was even more stuffy than the lounge. With fewer places for smog to filter, what fumes did emanate through the cracks collected and adhered to everything like a second, clammy skin. Quantum instinctively touched her mane, wondering what kind of magic it took to keep a pony who primped in such a place looking fresh from the makeup table.

Finding her quarry was a simple task. Amidst a moat of dusty cardboard boxes overflowing with a multitude of props and garish outfits was a small, lonely makeup table. Hanging above it was a single lightbulb attached to a chain. Affixed with a shade to angle its beams downward, the bulb served as the only light in the area. As such, every object was attenuated with a long, wispy shadow. Staring into the table’s vanity mirror with her elbows on the table at her chin in her hooves, was Trixie Lulamoon. The cyan mare’s left ear swiveled at the sound of boxes shifting. Without bothering to turn around, she waved one hoof lazily in the air.

“Leave the flowers on the floor in the usual spot, Jasmine. Then shoo. I’m busy.”

“How many flowers do they give you after a performance?” Quantum blurted out boldly. Instantly on high alert, Trixie spun around in her swiveling seat and drilled her eyes into the stallion who was her daughter.

“You!?” Trixie blurted, her horn instantly coming into purple-hued life. “What are you doing back here, you bug? This area is for employees only!”

Quantum made a dismissive gesture with her hoof. “Relax. I just want to talk.”

Trixie peered at Draw Out for a few moments, ensuring that he was at a safe distance and not making any threatening moves, before she allowed her own magical light to wink out. Plunged back into weak incandescence, the room carried her words around and echoed them off every surface.

“Talk?” Trixie huffed, trying to keep Quantum beyond the horizon of boxes with her eyes alone. “Talk is cheap for ponies like you. I told you this before – The Great and Powerful Twiggy is not to be handled by the likes of you!”

“Your name isn’t ‘Twiggy’,” Quantum replied stubbornly.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” Quantum pushed a breath of defiant air out of her nostrils in almost exactly the same way her mother had a moment before, “Your name isn’t ‘Twiggy’. It’s ‘Trixie’. The Great and Powerful Trixie. And I bet the very idea that you would allow yourself to be ‘handled’ by anypony at all is an affront to your sensibilities that’s so bad it makes you want to blast every single pony in that room out there straight into next Hearthswarming, right?

Trixie thrust a hoof in the minty mare’s direction, opened her mouth to tell her off, and…swiveled back around to stare into the mirror, folding her forelegs on the tabletop. Quantum cantered forward a few more steps.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked her mother. “There are other ways to make a living than…selling yourself.”

“Don’t act like you care, you pig,” Trixie spat, watching the other mare’s reflection over her shoulder. “And how dare you even begin to suggest you know what’s best for anypony in this slummy little city? You are nothing but a cheating card-shark who does nothing with their time but stealing other pony’s bits, drinking, and wasting every day away in this cesspool of debauchery. And don’t you even try to tell me that you don’t approve of ‘selling oneself’.”

“‘Cesspool of debauchery’?” Quantum repeated. “That’s a heck of a thing to say about your employer. Do you like Tilt?”

Trixie narrowed her eyes but didn’t reply.

“You don’t, do you?” Quantum pressed. “I saw it in your eyes out there. The very idea of his hooves on your coat disgusts you. You’ve just gotten good at hiding it.”

“…you are no better than he,” Trixie mused.

“This isn’t about me, and I’m NOT trying to pick you up!” Quantum shouted, slamming herself in her own chest with every enunciation. “Look at yourself! You’re a magician, not a callmare! What would your daughter say if she saw you like this!?”

Trixie’s ears perked up. In the mirror, she gaped at the reflection of Draw Out, who had since come closer. “What did you say…?”

“Your daughter. Quantum. She doesn’t know you’re doing this, right? You told her—I mean—I bet you told her you’re earning money some other way…”

“Y-you…how do you…” Trixie sputtered.

“If you told her the truth,” Quantum ventured, “if you made her understand…maybe you could find another way. Maybe you wouldn’t have to deal with this all alone.”

Mom, Quantum thought, sniffing in a sharp breath, please, listen. You’ve got to listen. To change the future.

Trixie was silent for a long time, and in that time, her daughter didn’t dare to move. The cyan blue mare, who wasn’t as young as she used to be, stared into the hazy vanity mirror stuffed behind the stage of the Hungry Ursa, and pawed at the bags under her eyes with a hoof. In her head, she saw the witch Twilight Sparkle, who had made a fool out of her and was almost certainly laughing it up with her friends back in Ponyville. Her lips moved, but her voice was so quiet, it was hard to say whom she was addressing.

“All I ever wanted to be was a magician…” Trixie mumbled to herself, staring into the mirror and heedless of her company. “But I was never good enough. Not good enough for my parents. Not good enough for my siblings. Not good enough to have friends. All I ever had…was the magic.”

“That’s not true,” Quantum said softly, stepping closer still. She could feel a certain moisture under her glasses that wasn’t an allergic reaction to all the smoke. “You have your daughter, and…I don’t think you really understand how deeply she loves you, or…” she paused, remembering those fateful days in Canterlot, “…how far she’s willing to go for you.”

Trixie’s shoulders were quivering. The whites of her eyes had taken on a pinkish hue. Quantum stared at her mother’s reflection. This…this was the mother she knew. Not the pony Trixie was pretending to be, and not the creature she would one day become. The raw, honest love and deep, lonely insecurity in Trixie’s eyes wrapped around Quantum’s heart like tendrils, pulling the strings of her heart back and forth between devotion and shame.

Trixie Lulamoon was in pain. Quantum Trots Lulamoon never knew. And never bothered to try to understand.

“Mom…” Quantum hiccupped, forgetting herself entirely and placing a hoof on her mother’s sagging shoulder. “Please…don’t let things stay this way. Get out of this place. Find honest work. And for Celestia’s sake, talk to your daughter. Tell her everything. Heal. Do it while you still can.”

Trixie stared into the mirror. For the briefest of instants, the smile on the face of the stallion standing behind her looked uncannily familiar. Then, she remembered herself. Remembered where she was. Remembered who was touching her. Remembered everypony that had been touching her, and everything they had all put her through.

“ENOUGH!”

Quantum was a moment too slow. A cardboard box overflowing with trashy costumes slammed itself against her temple, sending her sprawling legs flying in every direction. When she was in a disorganized heap on the floor, she looked up to see the glowing purple horn of her mother. Trixie’s expression was one that her daughter had only seen once before. Just before Canterlot began to burn.

“My personal life is none of your business, you fiend.” Trixie glowered menacingly. “I don’t know how you learned my daughter’s name nor how you were able to find out about her at all, but I promise you this – if you ever so much as exhale the air necessary to form the syllables of her name ever again, even in your sleep, I’ll rearrange your pretty face so badly that even the timberwolves I’ll throw your bloody carcass to won’t want to eat you. Get this through your thick skull – I am The Great and Powerful Trixie, and I can destroy you. I swear to the deepest parts of the Everfree Forest that if you screw with my family, I will KILL you. And when I’m through, I’ll exorcise your pathetic soul from your body and cast it into the foulest, most torturous Hell ponies have ever conceived!” Shaking with rage, Trixie panted out her last words, “And I’ll do the same to Tilt, that old nag behind that stupid bar, all your friends, and every other son of a nag who even thinks they know anything about my markless Cutie, my child, whom I love, and who’s simplest smile is worth more to me than ten thousand of your disgusting lives. Now get the hell out of my muzzle. Don’t talk to me, and don’t come within five hooves of me ever again. EVER!”

Her ears flattened tightly against her skull, Quantum hugged the floor and prostrated herself before her mother’s tear-streaked rage. Practically scooting out the backstage area on her stomach, she made for the stairs and fled before Swizzle’s bouncers realized she was gone again. She had to gallop down the hall to her room and dive face first into Draw Out’s bed to stay ahead of the opening floodgates.

There she stayed for the rest of the night.

The last time her mother had told her off so passionately, Quantum had tried to kill herself (or at least go away forever) by leaping into an untested Accelerator device. This time Trixie’s words were different, and Quantum didn’t have to scratch too far past the surface to see what lay beneath. In 2027, her mother loved her dearly. In 2039, there was nothing left but hate.

Quantum Trots smiled beneath the worn-in tear tracks under her eyes. Damn the numbers. There was still hope to make a new future, and she would make that future. Come Hell, high water, or spirit ponies vying for her soul.

3.6 - Pony Pillow Talk

April 11, 2027

Baltimare – The Hungry Ursa

Sunday

Quantum couldn’t remember how long it took to cry herself to sleep.

Grey shafts of light dawned on a typical Baltimare morning. Ponies went to work, school, or wherever their hearts or compulsions directed them to go. At The Hungry Ursa, the usual morning poker game was forming. At least one seat stood empty.

Quantum Trots lay on her back in bed, her limbs sprawled out all around her. The blankness of the ceiling was a perfect foil to how she felt inside; staring endlessly at it seemed an almost natural thing to do. She never heard the whooshing noise that preceded Hal’s voice.

“You…ok?”

Quantum didn’t move. “…I’m sorry about before, Hal. I keep telling you off every time you try to help me.”

The toasty orange pegasus with the checkered red and green turtleneck floated into view and perched on the edge of Quantum’s bed, his holographic wake neither disturbing the covers nor creating a sinking feeling in the mattress. “Nah, don’t worry about it,” he offered softly. “You know it won’t be the last time for either of us. Besides, I was out of line too. My folks have always been your typical nuclear couple. I guess…maybe I don’t know what you’re going through.” When Quantum didn’t reply, Hal felt a need to keep the conversation going. “What was your dad like?”

“I have no idea,” the minty mare frowned skyward. “Mom wouldn’t talk about it, and I never asked. For all I know, Tilt could be my father.”

His eyebrows peaking with worry, Hal bopped his device several times with a hoof, looking to put his friend’s mind at ease. “If it helps, Tissy says that’s very unlikely. There are no specific readings for it, but you weren’t born in Baltimare and your mother’s profile isn’t showing any evidence that she even knew Tilt before settling in this city.

Quantum rolled over onto her side, squinting at the advances of the sun through her drawn-back curtains. “If Tissy can run my mother’s historical profile, can’t she tell me who my father is?”

Hal smiled softly. “Tissy told me she tried that before you even vaulted into Draw Out’s body. She thought…you might appreciate it. Even she couldn’t make any sense of the readings. It’s as if that information was blotted out of existence on purpose, for some reason.”

“Tch.” Quantum sighed, “So it’s back to potentially being any stallion I come across that was alive and old enough to spawn the year I was born.” She took a huffing breath and shook her head softly. “Sorry. I get it. There’s no way to know and that has nothing to do with the here-and-now. Thanks for trying.”

“What did your mom say?” Hal asked apprehensively.

Quantum paused. Rolling back over on the bed, she sat up and shook herself down more thoroughly, chasing away sleep and fluffing out her mane. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got a job to do. Run the numbers for me again, will you?”

Hal raised an eyebrow and was about to question his classmate’s intentions, but thought the better of it. Instead, he offered a wry grin and took to his device as if it were a playbook. “Ninety-three point seven says you and Draw Out are history. Forty-four point two percent says it’ll be Cozy Hearth instead. Seventeen point five says neither, and…hmm…” he poked the device, frowning, “…four point eight percent says you’ll both live happily ever after. On the plus side, it looks like Tilt won’t get away with it in any scenario that one of you buys the apple farm.”

Quantum folded her forelegs. “And if I leave town, and somehow get Cozy to come with me?”

Hal blinked, “Bus accident. Eighty-eight point one.”

“Suppose we don’t take the bus?”

“Mugging. Eighty-nine point five.”

Quantum’s horn began to glow softly, “…suppose I pack heat…?”

“Lightning bolt. Ninety-four point seven percent chance.

“And if I go find that creamy, mare-inizing punk and hoof him in the face right now?” Quantum growled.

“Tissy says Tilt’s thugs are never far away, and none of Draw Out’s friends would be willing to go so far as to risk their lives to defend him. He’d squish you like a parasprite. The only shot you’ll ever get on him is a cheap one, like last night.”

Quantum threw up her hooves in exasperation. “That’s ridiculous! How can you have an outcome for every single possible scenario I can even think up, and how can they be so specific!?”

Hal smirked, “Tissy’s a quicker draw than you. You should just assume everything you can think up, she’s thought up already.” As quickly as it appeared, the toasty stallion’s smile faded. “Cutie…maybe it’s time to consider just getting out of town on your own.”

“You said before that would only raise the likelihood that Cozy Hearth will die.”

“That was before you screwed up Draw Out’s relationship with her,” Hal retorted, checking his readouts. “Now signs are pointing to both of you surviving if Draw Out runs away with his tail between his legs…but the most likely scenario in that case is that Tilt will sweep in and take Cozy for his own. And I wouldn’t count on her just quitting her job and trotting away. She’s too proud, too devoted to her foals, and too convinced that she’ll never find work doing anything else.”

Quantum slammed one of her hooves down on the other and gritted her teeth. “Not if I have anything to say about it. That jerk.”

“Cutie,” Hal sighed softly, “If you leave town, at least Draw Out and Cozy Hearth will live. They might not be very happy, but you never know, right? Maybe Cozy will find a way out of all this on her own.”

“I’ll just have to think of something Tissy hasn’t considered yet!” Quantum declared, fixing her toasty classmate with a look. “And since when did you want to just give up?”

“…since it could save your life. You’re my friend, Cutie. That means something to me.”

The minty mare remained silent for a time. On the other side of the window to Draw Out’s suite, the day was continuing to blossom. At any moment in the next forty-eight hours, Quantum realized she could find herself on the receiving end of Tilt’s switchblade. She spoke without looking at her companion.

“Hal, I just need to know one thing. Are there any numbers on my mother since last night?”

In the window, Quantum saw her toasty companion shake his head. She felt a deflating sigh well up within her, but forced it down. Maybe her words had no effect. Maybe it really was too late to change the future. Maybe, she thought, But there’s still something I can do in this place, at this time, to make somepony else’s future a little brighter.

Quantum stood and made for the door. Hal spoke up.

“Where are you off to this time?”

“Cozy’s room,” Quantum replied. “I need to fix her life. And Draw Out’s. I have no business screwing up other futures just to pursue my own dream.”

Hal’s honest smile turned up into a grin, “I didn’t want to give up anyway.” He pulled out his device; like a pianist cracking knuckles before a performance, the pegasus stretched his fetlocks and prepared to go to work. “But listen – if the percentage of your death goes up even one more point, you need to get out of town.” He bopped a few buttons, and a red light on the top of the device began to pulsate in a constant, slow rhythm. “It’s not foalproof, but if I keep you under constant surveillance I might be able to get an idea when you’re in danger by having the system constantly run your numbers and set off an alert if they skew too much. Promise me you’ll run away if the stakes get too high, okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Quantum waved a hoof, “I promise.”

“Cutie…” Hal nagged.

“Alright! I promise!” Quantum tipped her glasses down slightly and stared at Hal overtop of them; her naked eyes boosting her sincerity. “I promise. I’ll opt for the ‘everypony lives’ scenario if things get out of hand.”

“Good,” Hal nodded in approval.

Quantum approached the door and went to pull it open, but the minute her magic took hold of the knob and began to turn, a force on the other side turned it the opposite way. Taken aback, the minty mare relented and let the door open by itself. There, standing in the hallway, was the delicate grace of the forest green Cozy Hearth, her imprisoned heart cutie mark wriggling with uncertainty.

“Huh?” Quantum observed, “What are you doing here? I was just about to come and see you.”

Instead of scowling, Cozy Hearth offered a hesitant smile. “I thought…I don’t know. Maybe you’d still let me in.”

Quantum threw back the door and stood aside with a merry ‘I’ve got this’ grin. “Sure! Come on in!”

Bewildered, Cozy Hearth wandered into Draw Out’s room, allowing her beau to shut the door behind her. She glanced about, staring right through Hal, and then glanced over her shoulder at the minty mare.

“Aren’t you mad?”

Quantum’s wheels turned nervously in her head. “Mad? Why should I be mad? Are you mad?”

Cozy cantered into the room proper, “Well…yes, I am. You were a jerk and you deserved it, but…” she put a hoof demurely to her lips, “…I did throw a drink in your face. I-I should apologize for that.”

Quantum remembered what it had taken to scrub the scent of turnip rum out of her coat for the second time. She sniffed her shoulder idly, wondering if she put on enough stallion musk to get the job done. When she looked back, she found Cozy Hearth standing in the center of the Spartan room with her head down, pawing nervously at the carpet. Hesitantly Quantum clopped over.

“Hey,” the fake Draw Out asked, ‘his’ voice dripping with honest concern, “what’s the matter? You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” Quantum patted herself on the flank, “See? Washes right out. Better for your body than drinking it, right?”

Cozy Hearth giggled and flexed her wings in a long stretch, as if she were wriggling tension out of them. “Well…I suppose it is better than falling asleep in a puddle of the stuff at the card tables…”

Quantum let out an encouraging laugh, “Right? And hey…” she threw a glance at the mirror just long enough to get in character, watching the golden-coated, broad-muzzled stallion look back at her. Then, she went as far as to take up one of Cozy’s hooves in her own. “…I’m sorry. That was an awful thing to say last night. You were totally in the right. Uhh…forgive me?”

The forest green pegasus peered up at Quantum without raising her head, while the mint-coated unicorn plastered on her most well-practiced grin. “W-well—”

“I promise you’re not going to lose a customer!” Quantum interjected.

Hal rolled his eyes in unison with the narrowing of Cozy’s. Cozy smacked Quantum’s hooves away and turned to the mirror.

“And that’s what I hate about you!” The green pegasus growled, staring at her own flushed cheeks in the mirror, “You’re a jerk, a card shark, a tight rump, a braggart, insensitive, and you think with the wrong head, but…” she peered over at Draw Out’s bright eyes and worried expression, “…then you do something sweet, or say something that would give any mare’s heart a twitter, and I end up forgiving you. That’s a hell of a thing, you know that?” She thrust one hoof at Draw Out’s reflection with such force that Quantum flinched, “And do you know why? Because in those teensy, tiny little moments when you actually show you give a damn about life, I see what you’re hiding under that luxurious pelt of yours. I see what you don’t want to show anypony else. I don’t know if it’s because you really are a toad, or because you’re just scared to be yourself, but I think there’s more to your heart than what you show the world. And so here I am,” she flexed her wings broadly, “standing in this Celestia-forsaken room again…with you.”

Quantum blushed. When Cozy Hearth finally turned her attention from the mirror to the window, Quantum stared at Hal and mouthed the words, What do I do now?

“Awwww, no!” Hal barked, thumping his chest. “Bro-pony solidarity says that’s one lesson I’m not gonna teach! You know all about temporal mechanics – figure out stallion mechanics on your own!” The toasty orange pegasus with the frosted mane tips booped open a white sheet of light and stepped through it. “I’ll give you two some privacy. You’re a mare – just treat her the way you’d want to be treated and it’ll all work out fine…I guess!”

You guess!? Quantum lipsank desperately.

Hal pointed at Quantum, “Hooves in the game,” and then at Cozy, “Head over hooves. Just be nice and don’t say anything stupid. Oh, and have fun!” Cackling merrily, Hal vanished as the pane of light closed over itself and vanished into nothingness.

Quantum gritted her teeth under her lips and filled her mind with the satisfying image of beating her classmate over the head with his own pocket protector. “Treat her the way I’d want to be treated…” she whispered. Thinking about it, the only thing she could come up with if she were in Cozy’s place would be to buck Draw Out in the face and storm back to advanced physics class. She looked into the mirror, and Draw Out looked back at her. Hesitantly she touched his mane, wondering what her own looked like right now. It was bothersome not being able to attend to her own appearance, even if nopony else could see what she really looked like. Her sea-green locks were probably just their usual mass of unkempt, frizzy loose ends; borne from endless hours crawling around under some cold machine. Somehow, that bothered her now more than it usually did. Her cheeks turned a cerulean hue again when she noticed Cozy Hearth was staring at her in the mirror.

“Treat what…?” The forest green pegasus asked. Quantum cleared her throat.

“I-I meant…you deserve to be treated the way I’d want to be treated. You know…if I were in your hooves.”

Smiling warmly, Cozy Hearth stepped closer to her stallion and put her hoof on Quantum’s jaw, tracing the length of it. She batted her painted eyelids coyly. “Oh sweetie,” she cooed, “I knew that’s what you were really thinking. How about we just go and bury the pitchfork, hm?”

“S-sure,” Quantum nodded, looking everywhere but into the other mare’s vermillion eyes. Cozy Hearth matched every retreating step Quantum took, never allowing the former to put any distance between them. When Quantum felt her rump bump up against the spongy softness of the mattress, she swallowed noticeably, and Cozy giggled.

“What’s the matter, lover?” Cozy Hearth cooed, “dragon got your tongue?”

Quantum opened her mouth to speak, but only a yelp came out as her pressured knees buckled over the mattress and she found herself sprawled out on her back. Before she had a chance to so much as breathe, Cozy fluttered her wings and landed softly on top of her – each of the foresty pegasus’s hooves pressing down on a minty one. Quantum shivered.

“I…uh…” Quantum blundered, “…listen, I…I can’t…you know. What you’re expecting.”

“Ohhhh?” Cozy giggled, nipping the tip of Quantum’s muzzle, “And just what do you think I’m expecting, honeypony? How shameful!”

“R-right!” Quantum nodded excessively, “Shameful! So let’s just—h-hey…” Quantum tried pulling at her own limbs, but found that the delicate pegasus mare standing on top of her was stronger than she looked. Swallowing, she glanced at the nightstand clock. “It’s nine in the morning! A-aren’t you hungry…?”

Grinning broadly, Cozy leaned in and, of all things, licked Quantum’s horn. “Starving, sweetie. Starving. Good thing I’ve got a couple of bananas and a pile of sugarcubes right here.”

Flailing one hoof, Quantum somehow managed to smack the latch on the drapes, mercifully sparing Draw Out’s boudoir from the prying light of the morning sun.

3.7 - Afterjoke

April 11, 2027

Baltimare

Sunday Evening

Eleven hours later, Quantum found herself sitting at a small outdoor bistro several blocks away from The Hungry Ursa, watching the maudlin sun dip behind the ashen horizon. The cobblestones beneath her cushioned seat were solid. The wrought iron bars of the fence between her table and the street were sure. Her brain, however, was quite addled. The day had been filled with wining, dining, cheerful chatter, and a pleasant sense of getting-to-know the demure, forest green pegasus sitting opposite her. Before all that, however, there had been…well. At some point, Quantum remembered hearing the whooshing sound that preceded Hal. She had thrown a pillow at it, heard it again, and so far the toasty orange pegasus hadn’t made an appearance. Her reverie was broken by the sensation of a silky hoof tracing her flank.

“How’s your sunflower latte, sweetie?” Cozy Hearth smiled through her now-familiar perfume. Quantum stiffened.

“Fine, just…fine.”

Cozy made a pouty face and unabashedly pecked Quantum’s cheek. “Aww, don’t you worry none, honeypony. Your secret’s safe. All stallions have problems with that once and awhile. Why, I can’t even imagine having to carry around one of those—“

“It’s fine!” Quantum held a hoof over Cozy’s lips and glanced around to see if anypony was eavesdropping. “I mean, it’s fine. Just forget it.”

“Well,” Cozy smirked, twirling a cinnamon stick around in a cup of milk tea on the table before her, “It’s like you’re not yourself today, you poor thing.”

You have no idea, Quantum thought to herself. Her glasses had slipped down on her muzzle slightly, but she was learning to break the habit of adjusting them when some pony who didn’t know they existed was looking on. Instead, she absently cast her eyes out over the nearby Baltimare street. A bored-looking stallion wearing an orange construction vest was supervising the street cleaning work of a wagon-sized device on wheels, fitted with a number of spinning mops and brushes on mechanical arms. Quantum smiled wanly; remembering how she built a functional scale model of the Mark VII automated Pathwasher for a science project in tenth grade. It was a dinosaur compared to what she was used to seeing in her own time, but there was something nostalgic about watching it chug along now, going about its toil. The minty mare found herself longing to be the child she was in 2027 again; reliving Equestria’s technological revolution at its infancy.

“Bit for your thoughts?” Cozy asked. Quantum turned to find the deceptively powerful pegasus looking up at her from the last of the chocolate truffles, which she had nosed onto Quantum’s plate. Grinning bemusedly, Quantum levitated the little confection and partook of it before letting out a sigh and turning back to the sunset.

“I dunno. Just…do you ever wish you could do some things over in your life?” Quantum mused to the sky. “Like, if you could make a different choice at some point, or go back even further and change your whole way of thinking, or tell yourself something that you really needed to know back then?”

When there was no reply, Quantum turned to find her companion staring down at her drink, swishing the cinnamon stick more than was necessary. When she remembered some of Cozy Hearth’s history, Quantum kicked herself mentally.

“I’m sorr—”

This time it was the pegasus’s turn to silence the unicorn with a hoof. “No, it’s okay.” Cozy Hearth remained silent for a long time, just staring at the sky, until she finally spoke again. “I haven’t told you much about my past, sweetie, I know. It…isn’t a very interesting story. But I’ll tell you something. I wouldn’t change a day of it.”

Quantum’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait…what?” As far as she could remember, Cozy Hearth had been disowned by her family for a teenage pregnancy, and was now working as a callmare just to make enough money for the six foals she almost never sees. “Why…?”

Cozy Hearth smiled softly. “Maybe you don’t understand, honeypony, but there’s more to life than drinking and playing cards every day. My colts and fillies are my whole world. If my life had turned out differently, they might not be in it, and I don’t even want to imagine a life without them.” She paused, and placed a hoof in one of Quantum’s, “Well…maybe they aren’t my whole world…”

Quantum took the offered hoof and felt her cheeks warm up. She thought about how desperately she’d tried to persuade her mother to find another path. If she had succeeded…how would that have changed her life? There was no guarantee it was the right choice, and without any readings from Hal’s device, Quantum had simply been acting out of her own need to erase ‘Twiggy’ from existence.

But who was she to decide that?

As the two mares sat together in the twilight, a rough-looking unicorn stallion in a waiter’s getup served Cozy a second milk tea. Thanking her server, the foresty pegasus bent her head down to enjoy her drink. Quantum adjusted her glasses and squinted at the retreating waiter. He looked…familiar, somehow. The moment she placed his features, her eyes went wide.

“Wait!” The minty mare exclaimed, “Don’t drink that! That guy…I know him! That’s one of Tilt’s thugs!”

“Hrm?” Cozy bubbled, coming up from the concoction with foam on her muzzle. “What’s wrong?” She eyed the departing waiter, and then the drink. “It tastes fine. There’s nothing wrong with—!!”

Quantum watched as her companion doubled over and spilled off of her seat the same way her drink splattered from the table. The minty mare was by Cozy’s side in a flash, but her deep, healthy forest green coat was already showing signs of putridity around her eyerims and lips. Cozy Hearth was pawing at the air obliviously with a hoof and trying in vain to speak; her wings beat, but their normal down-softness caught the air with a leathery drag and took her nowhere. Quantum, at a loss, tested Cozy’s pulse and tried to make sure she wasn’t choking to death.

“Don’t bother,” A familiarly sinister voice preened, “She ain’t gonna die. Not yet, anyway.”

Quantum looked up. From the other side of the low iron fence waited the creamy visage of Tilt, flanked on either side by one of his cronies. The three of them were enjoying a good chortle. Quantum scowled.

“What did you do to her!?” The minty mare demanded.

Tilt levitated a small drawstring pouch taken from a saddlebag worn by one of his men and shook it just long enough to show a trickle of bright blue powder before replacing it. “Poison joke,” The young kingpin smiled. “All the rage in high society these days – even better than snuff! Ain’t it boys?”

Tilt’s stallions enjoyed a hearty bellylaugh, the sound embellished by a threatening tinkle from each guffawing voice. Quantum checked Cozy over again. She was lying on her side, and had all the countenance of a rapidly wilting rosebush. The minty mare waved her hoof in front of Cozy’s eyes, but she didn’t show any signs of recognition. The forest green pegasus just lay there, coughing and sputtering until a slight spatter of red blood mingled with the pool of contaminated milk tea before her.

Quantum shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying. Poison joke just makes stupid things happen to a pony until you either treat it, or it goes away on its own. It’s like having a nasty rash or something. It doesn’t do this.”

Tilt cackled, “Oh, it does whatever you want it to do when you got the best zebra apothecaries in town in yer back pocket!”

Quantum made to get up, but threatening stares from the thugs kept her by Cozy’s side. “Why!?” She demanded. “If you’ve got a problem with me, then come to me! She didn’t do anything to you!”

“You mess with my mare, I mess with yours.”

“Mares aren’t property!” Quantum shouted.

“They are to punks like me an’ you,” Tilt smiled, “But that ain’t all.” With that, the cream-coated thug with the mauve mane and single card cutie mark turned his head. Most of the left side of his face, which hadn’t been visible before, was covered in mottled black and grey bruises. He even had a black eye. “I pay my debts, and I owe your sorry ass a beating. With a LOT of interest. So listen up. Your lady friend’s got a day if she’s lucky, and what she got ain’t something you can fix at a pharmacy—“

Quantum was on her hooves in a flash, her horn alive with crackles of power. Tilt continued.

“Woah, woah! Like I was sayin’,” he grinned, “It ain’t something you can cure at a pharmacy. You wanna go at it right now, fine; my boys and I would be happy to curb-stomp your ugly mug all over this sidewalk. But ya know what? My bits are down, and they’re all on you not wanting to lose your cute little hump-rump over there. So I’m gonna cut you a break, and I’m even gonna be a good sport about it. Ain’t that just so nice of me?”

Quantum gritted her teeth. When one of the thugs reached out to smack her in the face, she moved as if to attack him, but Tilt superimposed himself between the two.

“I’m being all nice here, and that’s how you show your appreciation?” Tilt smiled evilly. “Alright, then it goes down like this. You get your burnished butt down to the waterfront in three hours. Just you. There’s one bag of the stuff your maretoy needs down there. You don’t show? It goes in the harbor. I see anypony with you? It goes in the harbor. You so much as look at me or my boys the wrong way until then? You won’t care where it goes, because the rest of the poison joke is going down your throat. Got me?”

Quantum hesitated.

“GOT ME?”

Sighing, the minty mare nodded. Tilt grinned.

“You got bits in your ears. That ain’t the right way to look at me.”

The minty mare doused her horn and did her best to stifle her murderous expression. Sniffing disdainfully at the laughter, she retreated back to the ground, tending to her fallen friend.

“What’s going to happen at the waterfront?”

Tilt threw back his head and roared with laughter. “You’ll see! But I’m a gambler, just like you, so don’t worry – you’ll get a chance to walk away with the goods! But let’s see if you really can, when the game is fair for once!”

With that, the group of ruffians clopped away. Tilt and Quantum kept one eye on each other at all times – even as the latter struggled to get the limp form of an adult pegasus mare off the street.

3.8 - Ace in the Hole

April 11, 2027

Baltimare

Sunday – Late Night

“Absolutely not!”

Quantum sat at the vanity in Draw Out’s room, listening to the hum of the artificial lighting outside with one ear, and a toasty orange tirade with the other. “This isn’t up for discussion, Hal.”

“Like HELL it isn’t!” Hal, who was on his hooves in the center of the room, was up to his turtleneck in abject fury. “You gave me your word! If the likelihood that Draw Out gets killed tonight goes up even one more percentage point, you were going to get out of town!” Hal took out his device and shoved his hoof through the back of Quantum’s head, just to materialize the readout right before her eyes. “Well it went up three more points! THREE! You’re not stupid – I know you’re not, so I know you don’t need me to explain it all again. But if you go out there tonight, you’re going to be killed. I’ve put up with your stubbornness before, but this is the last straw. I forbid it! You go out there, and I am DONE! You can figure out your own damn way back home!”

“You don’t mean that,” Quantum said softly, ignoring the device in her face in favor of the desktop, which held something of even greater interest. “Hal, you know I’m right this time. Just look at her. I can’t leave her like this. Not now.”

Hal retracted his hoof and glanced back at the bed. Lying under the stallion-scented blankets, exposed only from the neck up, was Cozy Hearth. The mare’s forest green coat had paled to an almost sage color. She neither moved nor groaned – the only way Hal could even tell she was alive was by the rhythmic rising and falling of the covers, where her chest should be.

“Take her to a hospital,” Hal urged.

“It won’t help,” Quantum insisted. “I know this city. Nopony at a hospital is going to know how to fix zebra potion mumbo-jumbo, and I know whatever that stuff was, it wasn’t normal poison joke. Besides,” she sighed, “hospitals ask questions, and I don’t have time to answer them. Did Tissy have anything to say about her condition?

Hal booped his device. “Only that you’re probably right – whatever Tilt did to Cozy, it’s going to be too late by the time you’d be able to get competent help to her. Tissy puts Cozy’s death at one hundred percent by five am tomorrow, unless she gets whatever Tilt has. The few apothecaries in this city that might be able to help are all in Tilt’s back pocket. And by the way,” Hal narrowed his eyes, “The chance that Tilt will get caught just went way down. You’re meeting him alone, at night, on his own turf. If he murders you, he probably won’t bother to save Cozy, and none of that is going to be easy to pin on him.”

Quantum kept her attention on her work. “I understand. Can I count on you?”

Hal hesitated for a long time. He looked at his friend, and then over at the slowly dying pegasus mare. Finally he let out a small, audible smirk. “We’re both gonna regret this, but I’m in.”

“Your rump isn’t on the line,” Quantum reminded him.

“Oh, it is,” Hal corrected. “I told you Princess Twilight knows about all this. It’s only because of her influence that we’ve been able to keep it a secret. I…don’t know how she’s going to react if she finds out I helped you through a situation where you had this great a chance of dying. What are you doing, anyway?”

The minty mare opened her leg pouch and quickly cleaned her work area into it. “Don’t worry about that. It’s just a contingency plan.” Strapping her patch on and straightening her glasses, she rose to her hooves. “We’ve only got half an hour left. Time to go.”

“Cutie,” Hal began, “I’m a hologram. I can feed you info, but if they rush you there isn’t going to be a thing I can do to help.”

“Tilt said he was going to give me a chance,” Quantum replied. “If he was planning to just kill me outright, he would have poisoned my drink.”

“And you believed him!?”

“He’s a pony’s behind,” Quantum reasoned, “but Draw Out has been taking his money for who knows how long now, and Tilt hasn’t tried to kill him yet. This guy is a gambler – he wants to beat Draw on his own terms. That should at least give me enough time to figure out what’s going down and try to come up with a way to beat him.”

“You’ll forgive me,” Hal replied drolly, “But that doesn’t instill me with a lot of confidence. You don’t even know what he’s planning, so how can you be ready for it? At least take somepony with you.”

Quantum shrugged, “You said yourself that nopony is willing to go this far for Draw Out. Besides, Tilt said to come alone. I can’t take the risk that somepony might follow me if I clue them in.”

Knock knock knock

Both ponies froze and stared at each other. Hal beeped at his device for a moment, but eventually shrugged, staring at the door. The knock came again. Quantum could feel the coat hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

“Draw, buddy!” A muffled voice called, “You in there?”

Recognizing the voice, Quantum spared one last look of confusion on her holographic companion before moving to open the door. Standing in the hallway was a certain red-coated unicorn stallion, with a spiky yellow mane and a cutie mark depicting a rainbow-hued deck of playing cards. The minty mare gaped.

“Hole Card…?”

Hole Card entered the room in a flourish, his stare immediately piercing straight through Hal and coming to rest on Cozy Hearth. “I knew it!” He exclaimed deductively. “I knew I saw you dragging somepony up the back steps!”

Quantum sputtered, “Th-this…this isn’t what it looks like! I didn’t do anything to—”

Hole Card punched one hoof with another, “Where’s Tilt?”

“Wait…what…?”

“Tilt,” the red unicorn repeated. “He did something to her, right? Something you can’t tell anypony about, and now he wants a showdown.”

“How…how did you know that?” Quantum marveled. Hole Card only laughed.

“C’mon man – ponies like me are usually called fruits, not rocks! I heard about the facehoofing you gave him and knew he’d try something.” He pointed at the bed, “But this? This I can’t abide. You’ve got a plan, right? What can I do?”

Hal was booping furiously at his device, “Well I’ll be. I guess Tissy isn’t infallible after all.” He eyed Quantum, “Take him up on it. Two muzzles are better than one, right?”

Quantum frowned at the new arrival. “I’m supposed to go alone. If Tilt sees you there, he’ll drop the antidote in the harbor.”

“And you believed him?” Hole Card replied smugly.

Quantum rolled her eyes, by now tiring of that question. “Can’t afford not to.”

Smiling in his usual carefree way, Hole Card approached Draw Out and touched ‘him’ on the shoulder with a hoof. “Don’t worry buddy. I got your back.” He then spun his hooves in a circular pattern and grinned, “I bet you didn’t know I’m a black-bridle, too!”

“Ookay, well,” Quantum gave Hal the eye and indicated the bathroom with her pupils, “I’m gonna, uh…go powder my muzz—I mean—”

“Take a leak?” Hole Card offered.

“Yes. I’m going to go do that. Hold that thought?”

Quantum shut the bathroom door on Hole Card’s mirthful grin and spun immediately on Hal, who had simply floated through the wall. “I thought you said none of Draw Out’s friends would stick their neck out for him?”

Hal, who had been booping his device constantly for the past five minutes, had a bemused smile on his lips when he finally looked up. He tried to speak, but instead sputtered out a laugh.

“What’s so funny!?” Quantum demanded. In lieu of a response, Hal held the device up so the minty mare could inspect the readout.

“F-fifty,” Hal sputtered, “fifty-eight point four says Hole Card is just as head over hooves for Draw Out as Cozy is, and let me tell you, when you first got here? That figure was not there! Good job Casanova! I dunno what you said to him, but you brought both the mares AND the stallions to the stable!”

Quantum felt her cheeks heat up. She glanced in the mirror, but was met only by the meek gaze of a stallion with a deepened shade of gold on his cheeks. For a time, she lost herself in wondering what things might have been like in her life if she had just bothered to put down her tools and walk outside, but the reverie was short lived. A moment later, she bapped open the bathroom door and fixed Hole Card with a look of confidence so fierce, both mare and stallion blushed slightly.

“We’re running out of time. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

When Hole Card was back in the corridor, Quantum stole a moment to glance at Hal. “Stay here,” she ordered.

“What?” Hal snorted. “Snowball’s chance after wrap-up. You need me!”

Instead of coming back with a snide remark, Quantum offered her most placating smile. She nodded at the bed, “I do need you. I need you here. If Cozy’s condition gets worse or some thug comes looking for her, you can let me know about it faster than anypony on this planet. Hal…I need to know she’s safe. Help me out?”

Hal huffed, floating in place with his forelegs crossed. He turned away when he realized he was blushing. “…be careful. The numbers are still way against you. Cutie…don’t get killed.”

Quantum smiled softly and turned for the door. “Don’t worry. You won’t be rid of me that easily.”

Minty mare and crimson stallion took the back stairs; spilling out into the muggy night at a gallop.

3.9 - Dead Pony's Hoof

April 11-12, 2027

Baltimare

Sunday Evening – Monday Morning

Quantum let Hole Card lead her to the waterfront. She had been there many times growing up of course, but they didn’t have time for her usual route, and the red light district was hardly a place she knew how to navigate. A quick run down Prattstern street introduced the minty mare to more iniquity than her teenage counterpart of 2027 ever needed to know about. It wasn’t long before the cobbled streets that expanded before the advancing ponies bled out into wooden piers before the harbor. The dreary haze that hung over the city persisted into night; cloying about Quantum’s coat like saltwater tentacles and befuddling the night sky with blotches of moonlit black.

“H-hey,” Quantum panted, “Slow down…we can’t just barge out into the open without a plan.”

Hole card grinned. “Then fire away, boss. Where do you want me? And don’t try to scare me away with the odds. I got your tail and that’s that.”

Quantum smiled genuinely at the red pony with the spiky yellow mane. “…thanks. You’re a good friend.”

Hole Card scanned the horizon, refusing to make eye contact. His voice softened. “You’re wasted on mares, buddy.”

The mint-coated mare-turned-stallion fell silent for a time. She felt warmth on her cheeks as she considered Hole Card’s stoic posture and upbeat countenance – traits he seemed to be able to maintain despite the situation. He was technically seventeen years older than her, but the longer Quantum spent lost in time and space, the less any of that seemed to matter. She ran the numbers through her head and wondered what he looked like at age forty-two in 2039. He had no interest in mares. Quantum felt herself appreciating the opportunity to wear a stallion coat for a while. When she spoke up to outline her plan, she nearly forgot to deepen her voice as she had been doing the past few days.

Two minutes later, Hole Card nodded and disappeared into an alley that opened along a side route to the water. Squaring her shoulders and taking a breath, Quantum produced Draw Out’s body from the darkness and walked him out to the largest pier. Her quarry was easy to find. In plain view under the brightest light waited the creamy, glib countenance of Tilt. Flanked by several of his cronies and sitting at a round card table not dissimilar to those at the Hungry Ursa, he was levitating and shuffling a deck of cards with his horn. A toothy grin spread on his lips as Quantum drew into the light.

“Welllll,” Tilt sang, “I honestly didn’t think you’d show. Got some balls after all, huh? Or maybe you just don’t like playing with wilted flowers?”

“…don’t talk about her like that.” Quantum threatened. One of Tilt’s thugs pawed the ground, while another emitted a sharp snort.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Tilt laughed. “Who was that mare you were playing with before Cozy Hearth came along, huh? Pretty…pratty…ah whatever.” Tilt dropped the cards and let them spill out onto the table in a heap. “Didn’t she have the goods for you? Guess not, since she was barely legal! And how many times have you been slapped for hooves wandering where only eyes are allowed to go?”

Quantum made an uncertain face, “L-lies—”

Tilt slammed the table so hard a pile of stacked chips collapsed. His grin mutated instantly into a snarl. “They’re NOT lies, and you know it! You think you’re a hero? Yeah, you’re gonna try to save your precious toy, but only because she’ll owe you and won’t be able to say anything the next time you two-time her! You want your mare, you want my mare; and you try to claim they ain’t property? Hah!”

Quantum narrowed her eyes. That feeling was welling up in her again. The feeling that made her challenge a group of unicorn thugs that could easily have torn her up the night of her mother’s ‘show’. The feeling that made her split a tree at Sweet Apple Acres clear in half just to try to prove a point. The feeling that made her blow up a heavily-populated portion of Equestria’s capital city, just because her mother wanted her to. The stubborn and thoroughly evil feeling that reduced this two-bit, no good, clueless, mauve-headed bastard’s life into something not worth scraping from her minty hooves. Quantum swallowed the unreasoning rage as best she could and turned to clop away.

“Call me again when you have something useful to talk about.”

“Siddown,” Tilt commanded.

Quantum took another step back in the direction she had come, but three more thugs were suddenly in her path; huffing, puffing, grinning, and desperately waiting for the order to skewer her on their sharply filed horns.

“SIDDOWN!” Tilt barked.

Quantum sat.

Tilt levitated the haphazard stack of playing cards and flug them into the minty mare’s face. “Shuffle,” he ordered flatly.

Quantum eyed the cards and the nearby stacks of chips. “What are we playing for? Bits?”

With a singsongy clattering noise that made Quantum wince, Tilt stood up long enough to smash every single pile of chips off the table. Quantum could near a number of them splash into the surf below the pier. Tilt then slammed his front hooves down on the table and bore his eyes into Quantum’s; so close she could feel his tobacco-rotten breath wafting by.

“Not no more,” Tilt whispered venomously. “It was gonna be that. I was gonna bleed your sorry ass dry and nail your tail to the wall once and for all, but it ain’t gonna be like that no more. You pissed me off for the last time. Now we’re playing for blood. You win, you get to walk out of here on your hooves with the antidote, though my boys here have orders to give ‘on your hooves’ a broad definition. You lose? I’ll make this simple. You’re a DEAD stallion. And I personally guarantee that nopony will ever find the body. You know those apothecaries? They don’t always want to be paid in bits. Sometimes they want cadavers to do all their weird voodoo on. If you believe in an afterlife, you rumsucking punk, imagine what it’s going to be like with a thousand zebra curses on your head. Now shuffle the cards before I get bored and kill you just because.”

Quantum swallowed. She felt her rear knees knocking under the table, but she kept her stare firm. “And how do I know you won’t kill me either way?”

Tilt sat down, his morbid visage suddenly shifting back to a pleasant grin. “You don’t. And you ain’t got no choice. Take it or leave it. Get out of that seat before we’re done and the next thing that goes bouncing off this table is your head.”

Quantum lit her horn. The pile of cards on the table organized itself into a proper stack, and began shuffling itself the way the minty mare was taught. When she finished, she wordlessly passed the deck to Tilt, who cut the cards with his own magic. When Quantum got the deck back, she began dealing.

“Stud,” Tilt smiled.

Quantum shook her head.

“…hold ‘em?” Tilt asked.

Quantum shook her head.

A look of recognition passed over Tilt’s features, and he grinned. “Draw.”

Quantum did her best to return the look. “My name, my deal, my game.”

Uncertainly blossomed on Tilt’s features. He scoffed. “Fine. But I ain’t got all night. One hand.”

Quantum looked down at the deck. One hand? She was barely more than a novice at poker, and Hal’s last report on her odds was very, very bad. Tilt was no wizard in his own right, but he had obviously spent more hours around a card table than Trixie’s daughter ever had. Worry crossed her brow, and she began to wonder if she’d made the right decision coming to this place. Anger had clouded her judgment. It wasn’t the first time, but it might very well be the last. Tilt laughed.

“What’cha waiting for? A proclamation from the princesses?”

Tilt’s cronies backed him up, laughing heartily until they immediately fell silent at the wave of his hoof. Quantum levitated her hand.

Alicorn of diamonds. Kingfisher of diamonds. Princess of diamonds.

Quantum’s eyes went wide.

Nag of diamonds. Nine of diamonds.

Quantum Trots Lulamoon felt the color draining from her cheeks. The same hand. The exact same hand. Before she thought it was a royal flush – the strongest hand in the game. Now she knew it was just useless junk. Tilt’s smile broadened. She had no idea how, but it was clear what he had done. Tilt ensorcelled one card and flung it at his opponent.

“One,” he grinned.

Quantum passed the creamy thug a single card. She could feel her heartbeat thudding wetly in her ears. She had a plan, but it wasn’t time yet. She’d expected the encounter to last longer than this, and stalling was no longer an option.

“…o-one,” she stammered, levitating the nine of diamonds face-down to the discard pile.

Tilt only nodded, his lips turning up in a devilish smile. Quantum drew her final card. Before she could look at it, Tilt’s hand was laying down on the table. Four sevens and the nag of hearts.

“Call,” Tilt rumbled. “Sevens over sevens. And look! I even got your marefriend!”

The assembled pony-mafia’s laughter reverberated off the closed vendor stands around the pier. Before Quantum could return the snide comment, she felt a pinprick against her jugular. Tilt’s knife was floating there, its tip lightly touching her coat.

“You know what?” Tilt began, “Your mare? She ain’t even in no real danger. I’m not gonna let her die. When this is over, and you’re dead, I’m gonna give her the antidote anyway. Then I’m gonna get Twiggy to train her to be the best little toy I ever played with. And when she’s broke, an’ callin’ me the love of her life? I’m gonna take her to this very pier and give her a taste of me, right over the spot where you met your maker. Call, Draw Out. Show us your cards.”

Quantum flipped the four cards on the table over. Tilt grinned a knowing grin at each one of them in turn, as if they were old friends coming over for tea. She held the fifth just below her own eye level. Tilt frowned, and Quantum felt the pinprick dig in a little bit more.

“Told you I ain’t got all night,” Tilt threatened. “Show it to us. Hey,” he smiled, “I’ll have two mares, so maybe I’ll play with both of ‘em over your death spot? I mean, why not, right? How’d that go back in school? The fittest passes on his genes? Seems about right to me!”

Quantum saw red. It boiled through her mind, eradicating all sense of civility and instilling in her the need to end Tilt’s life at any cost. The red became white, and, for the briefest flash of a second, it was everywhere – swirling, reeling; blotting out everything around her with such force that it nearly staggered her. Then, the presence of color congealed into the form of a single pony. Standing behind Tilt, just over his shoulder, was the unknowable steed with the empty black face, shrouded under a cloak of the purest, gleaming white.

Quantum gaped at the white pony, the one who had told her she had been judged. She swallowed hard. Was this the end? The chances of pulling the one card she needed, plus the odds already against her, plus the knife at her throat and the myriad thugs surrounding her.

Tilt blinked, looked over his shoulder, and then back at Quantum, frowning. “The insanity defense ain’t gonna work here, Draw. Now show me that card before I have one of my stallions here do it for you.”

The while pony loomed over the table; still as a marble statue and everpresent as the specter of death itself. Quantum glanced down at the card, which was angled such that even she couldn’t tell what it was. When she looked up again, she saw a single spot of baleful red light under the white pony’s hood – right smack in the middle of the abyss that shrouded its features. That single spot of light shown in her eyes like the rays of the sun, and in it she saw infinity. Worlds that were. Worlds that are. Worlds that shouldn’t be. Miasmic colors and billions of lives going about their toil strafed into and out of her mind too fast to overwhelm her – but just long enough to open her mind to the endless possibilities of time and space; if only for a nanosecond.

All of them were against her. All of them were calling to her.

Quantum heard ticking. The sound of a clock that was seconds away from tolling midnight. She scowled at the white pony. If it was her time, then it would be her time. She had already tried to commit suicide once, and she knew she deserved whatever was coming to her.

Defiantly, Quantum welled up her magic and flicked the card onto the table. It didn’t matter what card it was, but the minty mare favored it with her sapphire eyes anyway.

Ten of diamonds.

The white pony was gone. Tilt’s sly smile took exactly four and a half seconds to evaporate into a jaw-dropping triple-take before it erupted into tumultuous, unreasoning anger bordering on dementia.

“Th-the….the hell!?” Tilt screeched, rising from the table and scattering the cards with his horn. “Y-you…you goddamned CHEAT! Where did you pull that from, you dirty son of a nag!? Your ass!?”

Quantum blinked, rubbed her eyes under her interphased glasses, and blinked again. The chuckle that rose in the pit of her stomach clattered around; suffusing her limbs with power and lighting a fire under her brain. She couldn’t see her grin, but she could feel it, leveraging her lips apart like a crowbar clear up to her ears.

“Did I just….I mean—I did!” Quantum grinned, “Stick that in your oats and chew them!” She chided, pounding her hoof on the table, “Think you can mess with the luckiest stallion alive?” swishing her tail, she even winked, “See this? Nailed it to the WALL! Now pay up and let me go!”

“That card…” Tilt simmered, “…I took that card out of the deck!” He stared down each of his thugs, who in turn all withered under his gaze, “Which one of you put that card back in the deck!? I’ll kill you!”

Quantum folded her forelegs and smirked. “Oh? Who’s the cheat now?”

Her smile vanished when she felt the point of the forgotten stiletto dig deeper into a vital artery.

“YOU!” Tilt screamed, hoof running maniacally through his shocky mauve mane, “YOU die first! Right now! I’ve had it with you! Say your goddamn prayers, and then whoever put that card back in there is gonna—”

Quantum moved to bat the knife away. She prayed Tilt’s magic was neither stronger nor faster than her reflexes, but the blade was already long gone before she could so much as bend an elbow. Without warning, one of Tilt’s thugs was surrounded by a purple glow and sent careening into the harbor, with two of his fellows flailing after him before anypony could so much as blink. Quantum stood up and ignited her horn, intending to defend herself even as the darkness and confusion sent the remaining thugs scattering in all directions.

“H-hole Card?” The minty mare ventured. Was the red pony this powerful? Even if he was – this wasn’t part of the plan? “Wh-who in Equestria--?”

Tilt tried to whirl around, but a purple aura suddenly appeared around his neck and slammed his face into the table. Grunting and concentrating he tried to counter the magic with a bluish aura of his own, but his efforts were in vain. The purple aura constricted until the creamy kingpin was left gagging. A figure, preceded by a purple aura emanating from a cyan horn, emerged from the darkness.

Quantum’s spirits soared, “M-mom!?”

Nowhere on the body of Trixie Lulamoon could be found fishnets, high heels, or ground-in makeup. Instead, Trixie scowled beneath the wide brim of her violet, starred wizard cap and cloak. With an almost royal disdain on her face, she clopped casually up to Tilt and raised a demeaning eyebrow at him, watching him struggle.

“I put the card back in the deck,” Trixie stated plainly. “After it was shuffled – faster than either of you amateur goons could even see. Perhaps you’d like to make something of it, you clump of diamond dog poo?”

Tilt’s eyes went wide. “T-twiggy? Hey…is this a joke?”

“Am I smiling?” Trixie rumbled. Tilt gacked when the magical noose tightened and slammed his face down on the table again.

“G-get…get offa me!” Tilt roared. “You know what happens to ponies who bite the hoof that feeds ‘em! You’re makin’ a HUGE mistake!”

Quantum felt the air part inches from her head. Tilt’s stiletto, incased in a blue aura that matched his horn shot past her, intent on burying itself in one of Trixie’s violet eyes. It froze in place half an inch from its destination; purple magic easily overcoming blue. The knife then floated patiently down and jammed itself threateningly in the same spot on Tilt’s neck where it had been in Quantum’s moments ago. Trixie threw back her head and laughed.

“You think you can out-magic The Great and Powerful Trixie? Such a pony has never been, and never will be born! You’ve had it with him?” Trixie thrust a hoof in her daughter’s direction, “I’ve had it with you! I’ve put up with your disgusting, rum-belching, busy-hooved attentions for Celestia knows how long! I’m better than you! I’m better than anypony!” The aura around the knife vanished, and it slipped through the cracks of the pier, disappearing with a small splash. “I don’t even need something like that to end your pathetic life!”

Tilt continued to struggle. “You’re dead! DEAD! Pack your bags and run for your life Twiggy, ‘cause I’m coming for you, and I ain’t never gonna stop!” He managed a grin, despite half his face being mushed up against the card table, “And yer kid, too! You think I’m stupid? You think I dunno about your precious little filly, geeking away in her little school across town? You think she’s gonna be safe?” Tilt began to laugh, “My boys like ‘em young!”

Trixie’s eyes burned with a pure, agonizing rage so strong Quantum had only ever seen it once before – in a maximum security prison cell in 2039. The minty mare shrunk, fear taking her in a way that no other sensation – not even the threat of death – had yet been able to. Tilt tried to speak again, but the magical collar yanked him off the table and slammed him in a heap at Trixie’s hooves. The instant it slackened just a bit, Tilt vomited into the slats between the pier, hacking and coughing as if the wind had just been knocked out of him.

“When I’m done with you,” Trixie simmered, “You won’t be bothering anypony, ever again.”

Tilt was lifted off the ground by his neck. Choking and sputtering, he barely managed to form words. “…h-hey s-sugar-*kaff*-cube…hey why d-don’t we-*koff*-talk about this, h-huh? I g-got….c-connections….c-can make you-*hack*-a rich mare…y-ya want somethin’ better for yer k-kid…d-don’t’cha…?”

Quantum saw fear in Tilt’s eyes. The creamy stallion suddenly flew across the pier and crashed hard enough into a vendor stand to shatter a thick wooden support beam with his back. He cried out; the magical aura immediately lifting him back up again.

Trixie poured every single insult since the day she fled Ponyville into her power as she bore down on her victim, “Write me from Hell. I’ve always wondered just how hot it gets down there.”

“M-mom—“ Quantum stammered, rising from her seat, “Uh, Trixie…” she approached the psychotically angry wizard and held out a hoof to her, memories of how her mother looked on that fateful day returning to her mind. “...he’s not worth it. Poisoning and attempted murder are good enough. Let the guards handle this.”

Trixie addressed her daughter, but didn’t take her attention off of Tilt. “I told you never to come within five hooves of me again, you bastard. And what do you care anyway? I saw that look in your eye. You want this germ to be disinfected just as much as I do.”

Quantum shrunk. “Thanks for…thanks for saving m—”

“I didn’t do it for you!” Trixie barked. Tilt’s battered, groaning form slammed into the vendor stand three more times until a small pouch fell out from somewhere in his mane.

“Take it,” Trixie ordered. “Save that mare.”

Quantum took a step forward, but her mother’s stern voice froze her up as if she were a foal in mid cookie-theft.

“After that, you’re going to use every red bit you hustled from honest ponies to take responsibility and find her a real job. What you both do after that is none of my business, but if you don’t do that much—” Trixie snarled, “You’ll be next. Celestia help me.”

“A-alright alright,” Quantum surrendered, retrieving the pouch. She looked up at the struggling, choking, terrified form of Tilt the thug. A moment ago she wanted nothing more than to do this same thing to him, but seeing her mother do it with that same, psychotic, murderous look in her eye that the minty mare had never known growing up…

Quantum wondered what Hal’s numbers were saying right now. She spoke again, “But listen…don’t do this, okay? You’re no better than he is if you just—”

Her words were cut off by the sound of a guard siren. The remaining thugs scattered instantly, already far too terrified to approach Quantum or The Great and Powerful Trixie. When they were far enough out of sight not to know the difference, Hole Card came triumphantly barreling down to the pier with something in his teeth.

The minty mare smiled, sighing with relief as the red unicorn opened his mouth long enough for her to levitate the computer pad Quantum had filched from the destruction of Atlaminitis, twenty millennia ago. She silenced its incessant wailing and visual complaints of attempted unauthorized access. Hole Card smacked one ear with a hoof, as if trying to clear water out of his head.

“Draw buddy, what is that thing?” Hole Card grinned, “Dang near blasted my eardrums out. I know you said wait for the signal, but you didn’t send it up on time, and I got worried, so I figured maybe it was time to roll out the fake cavalry, ya know?” He glanced around at the scattered chips, “…what happened anyway? It was too dark to see from up there and I couldn’t hear you all too well either.”

Quantum tucked the device away in her interphased leg pouch while Hole Card wasn’t looking, pleased with her successful attempt to at least reconfigure it to complain when touched, even without a mnemonic access jack in her brain for it to connect to. She grinned, “Unexpected friends.” She replied finally, thrusting her hoof in Trixie’s direction. Hole Card frowned.

“What friends?”

The minty mare turned. The smashed vendor stand was still there, but Trixie and Tilt were nowhere to be found. Quantum cursed herself. Where had she taken him? What was she going to do with him? What if…what if Quantum herself was now responsible for putting the taste of murder in her own mother’s mouth? She took a step into the blackness of the peer, but Hole Card’s hoof came down on her withers.

“Draw, c’mon,” Hole Card encouraged, “We only got so much time, right? Let’s get that junk back to the room and cook up whatever needs to be cooked up with it.”

Quantum allowed herself to be led away from the pier. She lost count of how many times she looked back.

3.10 - Dancing by Strings

April 12, 2027

Baltimare – The Hungry Ursa

Monday

On a hazy morning in Baltimare, Quantum Trots found herself lounging on a barstool in an establishment of ill-repute that her 2027 self would never have known about, much less been to. She was nursing a booze tumbler filled with warm milk. Flicking her ear, she peered into the slightly dusty mirror behind the bar. In her seat was a golden-coated stallion with a haggard visage. Behind him, off in a corner that seemed a mile away and standing right through the middle of a card table being used by oblivious patrons, was the white pony. The colorless phantom that had passed sentence on the minty mare just stood there, it’s obscured, hooded face pointed squarely at her.

“I’m too tired to be scared of you right now,” Quantum scoffed at the reflection, which had been staring at her for at least two solid hours. “Aren’t you going to come and get me? Or are the stars out of alignment or something?” She did her best to mix a hefty amount of viscous, vinegary sarcasm into her words, but every time she glanced at the specter, a shiver ran down her spine.

“Come an’ get you what, sugah?” A voice replied. Quantum glanced over to find the midnight coated, well-made-up mother superior of The Hungry Ursa, Swizzle, giving her a look.

“Oh, I, uh…a drink,” Quantum blurted out by way of cover, “…get me a drink…?”

Swizzle let out a snarky breath. “You haven’t touched that one yet, sweetie. And you know I ain’t gonna serve you the hard stuff this time of day. I don’t care how gold your bits or your rump are.” She pulled back the edge of one lip in a grin, “Though, you can warm my stools with that rump anytime you like.”

Quantum blushed, but felt herself smiling at the same time. At first she’d found all of these ponies to be rough around the edges and therefore unsavory to be around, but the longer she spent in this place, the more she came to realize that there were more ponies in the world than just the ones she met in school. And they were just as worthwhile to be around – if not moreso. “…thanks.”

Swizzle laughed lightly, “Mmhm. I know you, Draw Out. If I gave you an’ inch you’d drink yourself stupid all day long. And you can’t be doing that no more. You’ve got responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities?” Quantum intoned. She considered the idea for a moment, but the answer came to her before she could ask. She looked down at the mostly untouched glass of milk and let its soothing aroma seep through her. “Oh. Right.”

Swizzle only grinned. Hooking a hoof around Quantum’s unfinished drink, she began to take it away, silencing the minty mare when she made to protest. “She should be well enough to see you now, sugahcube. You been hemming and hawing down here so bad, everypony knows you wanna go upstairs. So go already.”

Quantum was about to deny the charges, but a few bemused glances from other patrons silenced her. Eagerly she made for the stairs.

Cozy Hearth’s room wasn’t much different from Draw Out’s in terms of Spartan accommodations, and that came as a surprise to the minty mare. There were a few trappings of habitation – bottles of cheap perfume meant to cover up cigar smoke, a number of bottles containing unidentifiable amber liquids, and a photograph in a modest frame on the nightstand filled with happy looking colts and fillies. Otherwise the room had a cold, antiseptic feel to it; as if the resident either didn’t spend much time there, or didn’t care to. The bed was the only element that stood out, with its sensual satin sheets, posh overstuffed pillows, and lewd carvings on the headboard. Quantum didn’t waste much time wondering why that one piece of furniture was so garish. The bed cocooned the form of a single mare, buried up to the neck. Her chest rose and fell with a peaceful rhythm; her lavender mane spilling out over the sheets. The curtains were drawn, and in the low lighting Quantum hesitated; uncertain the callmare was awake.

“I didn’t get a chance to say this,” Hal, who had met Quantum in the upstairs hallway and was now floating on his wings insubstantially beside her, offered. “But you did good last night, Cutie. I…know how hard it must have been to come back here right away when it was all over. You did the right thing.”

Quantum responded with a look that didn’t require words. Hal began booping buttons and frowned.

“Tissy doesn’t know,” the orange pegasus answered the unspoken question. “She can’t find any records of Tilt that occur after 2027. That could indicate what we think it indicates—” he paused, swallowing, “Or it could just mean he faded into anonymity, was arrested and lost his power base, or even fled Equestria.” When he saw the uncertainty in his friend’s eyes, he continued, “Cutie, it’s been over a decade. There are millions upon millions of arrest reports and petty criminal activity records that have been filed in that time. He may have moved to another city and set up shop there, or maybe even been scared straight. The lack of his name coming up in prominence suggests he never became a real crime boss, but it’s too inconclusive to assume your mother…made good her threat. You have to understand, most of Equestria’s records are still kept the old fashioned way, and not every book, album, and ledger survives indefinitely. Between Tissy, me, and Princess Twilight, we don’t have the ability to just trek to any city at any time and spend days pouring through their archives.”

Quantum, mindful of waking Cozy, narrowed her eyes. Hal sighed and jumped onto the topic he wanted to avoid.

“Fine, fine. The truth is…we don’t know that either. Records on your mother at this point in history aren’t very good. She didn’t exactly have anybody in her life to keep them, nor did she make many friends as far as we know.” Hal pocketed his device and tilted his head, looking apologetic. “Sometimes fact is as plain as the muzzle on your face. Nothing’s changed back home. Interpret that as you will.”

Quantum hung her head and took in a sharp breath to replace the air that deflated out of her. Hal ‘patted’ her shoulder.

“You did good. All the data shows that Draw Out cleaned up his act, at least enough to make a good life for himself and Cozy Hearth. And their kids. We don’t have complete records on their fate either, but for the next five years at the very least, they’ll build a life together. You made that happen.” Quantum’s field of vision was suddenly filled with her friend’s grinning visage. “So chin up. You’re a hero today.”

It took time, but Quantum eventually felt the corners of her mouth wrench free from their prison of melancholy and turn upwards. Hal returned the grin, floated up, and took to pondering.

“You should be done here,” he commented. “So to be honest I have no idea why you’re even still around, but…” a grin and a chin-waggle towards the bed, “you can still make the most of it, no?”

Hal cackled and did a midair somersault when Quantum fixed him with a scowl and took a pointless swipe at him. She was about to drop the vow of silence and tell him off, but she froze when her eyes strafed past the form of the white-robed, colorless pony. It was right there in the room with them all – standing on the opposite side of the bed and staring right at the mint-coated unicorn. She froze, staring wide-eyed back at the startling appearance long enough to draw Hal’s attention off the levity.

“What’s up?”

Quantum only pointed at the white pony with a hoof. Hal studied the drawn window and tilted his head.

“What? Something wrong with the blinds?”

Quantum felt her brow creasing again. She gave every inch of the white pony’s empty, black stare right back to the creature, blowing a wayward bang out of her eyes defiantly. Her words appeared only in her mind, but somehow she knew it understood.

I can do this the rest of my life if I have to. What more do you want from me?

Despite her words, she knew it could smell her fear. The white pony tilted its head so slightly that the movement barely registered in Quantum’s eyes. Before she knew it, there was another shadow pony in the room – another silhouette, absent of light, stood beside the white pony as though it had been there the whole time. Quantum studied this one, trying to determine if she could guess anything of her fate from what little definition its form possessed. It looked strange – different from the ones she had seen before. Its movements were jerky, and it turned its head with such curiosity that it seemed fascinated by everything in the room. It was the size and shape of an adult mare, but it smiled brightly and pondered about like a newborn foal dazzled by looking upon a sunny day for the first time. Quantum wriggled her nose. Where was the fear in this one? A shuffling noise from the direction of the bed stole her attention.

“Nn…” a voice muttered, “Draw? Is that you?”

Quantum poignantly ignored the black and white ponies, turning her attention to the bed. She trotted over and stood beside the rustling form beneath the sheets.

“Yeah,” was all she could think to say.

A forest green foreleg slipped from under the covers and caressed Quantum’s chin. It was followed by a giggle.

“My honeypony…I knew you’d do right by me.”

Quantum found herself smiling stupidly into Cozy Hearth’s vermillion eyes. The color had returned to the fetching pegasus, and when she moved her leg the sheets had drifted away from one of her flanks. There was that cutie mark again – a pink heart with a picket fence around it. At first Quantum had thought it looked repressed and unfriendly, but now…it looked cozy. Just like its owner. Without her makeup and those sleazy adornments, Quantum had to admit that Cozy Hearth lived up to her name in more ways than one. Cozy was giggling. For a time Quantum thought it was just delicious lassitude that brought on the mirth, but the sound deepened and mixed with a coy expression that caused the minty mare to raise a brow.

“O-of course I would,” Quantum insisted. “You know how I…uh…feel about you.”

Quantum was clay in the potter’s hooves; she didn’t even realize she’d been encouraged to bend over the bed until Cozy caught her in a kiss so soft and romantic, Quantum wondered if Hal was watching. She wondered if Hal knew that was her first ‘real’ kiss.

Cozy cooed and giggled again, and Quantum could feel a wingtip drawing along her flank. “You don’t understand sweetie. I knew you’d do right by me. I knew it. And I proved it. So I win.”

Quantum, roused from the spell the forest pegasi held her in and blinked several times.

“Silly stallion,” Cozy smiled, brushing Quantum’s mane. “You think I wouldn’t recognize one of Tilt’s thugs when I see one?”

Quantum’s eyes widened. “You…you did all that…on—??”

In an explosion of sudden movement, the shadowy pony giddily leapt across the bed. Quantum had just enough time to hear Draw Out’s lover express her feelings for him one more time before she vanished.

Wherever or whenever she was headed next, the minty mare vowed to check herself for marionette strings as soon as she arrived.

5.1 - Butterfly Bubblegum on my Hooves

July 12, 2015

Ponyville

Sunday

Quantum didn’t have anything on her stomach. But that didn’t stop her from dry-heaving into the bushes.

She came up with the taste of bile in her throat three minutes later. Sitting back and placing a hoof on her stomach, she willed the involuntary undulations to cease until she could collect herself and take in her surroundings.

Sun. Country air. Open spaces.

The new scenery was a stark, jarring contrast from the perpetually gloomy skies of Baltimare, and it took twice as long as normal for her eyes to adjust to the bright light of the afternoon. She felt her muzzle to make certain her interphased glasses were still there, sighing with relief when she found them. Quantum hadn’t forgotten Hal’s warning – if the glasses ever left her possession, they would not only be visible to others but could be destroyed. Considering there was no way to replace them, she wasn’t too keen on being condemned to perpetual nearsightedness. Her second priority was the leg pouch with the C.A.S. emblem that was subject to the same rules, and still contained the small, twenty-thousand year old computer pad within. Satisfied that everything was where it was supposed to be, she rose to her hooves, stretched her aching legs and back, and drank up the warm, energizing rays of the sun. She fluttered her eyelids and found herself nose to nose with the muzzle of another pony.

Yelping with shock, Quantum sprang back and adopted a fight or flight posture, determined to identify this newcomer – or at least discern if they were a threat – before they had a chance to act.

The minty mare blinked. So did the milk-chocolate brown stallion she was looking at. He matched her every move perfectly until Quantum realized, much to her embarrassment, that she was looking into a jagged shard of mirrored glass that was propped up against the side of a building. She got up close to the reflection and began pulling at her eyerims, flaring her nostrils, and checking her teeth.

“A stallion again?” She mused aloud. “Am I gonna have to woo the queen of Saddle Arabia this time or something?”

Remembering the lessons Hal taught her about her gait, she pranced about for a few practice steps and examined her reflection. Her host had a spikey earth pony mane a shade darker than his coat, a pair of cobalt blue eyes, and of all things, a green tie hanging from a white collar. She made a series of faces in the mirror – everything from stern steadfastness to silly lollygagging, just to see which one looked the best on the stallion that stared back.

It took a good ten minutes before it dawned on Quantum that a jagged pane of glass propped up against a building was a strange excuse for a mirror. Tilting her head at the carelessly discarded and potentially dangerous thing, she looked up and discovered that the entire building, probably once a small home, was in similar condition. There were large holes throughout the structure with singed ends and skeletal remnants of furniture that suggested a raging fire had consumed most of the place. There were a few stains here and there of various colors and consistencies. Lifting her glasses and leaning in to get a close look, she squinted and identified each in turn.

Rust.

Paint.

Blood.

Her brows creased. She stepped out from the building and into the town proper. The sight that awaited her sent her jaw straight into the scorched grass.

Quantum remembered this place. Two vaults ago, when she had taken up residence in the body of the matron of Sweet Apple Acres, this square had been the center of Ponyville – the little hamlet in the countryside she’d never before visited that had a habit for churning out ponies who were destined to save the world. The place her mother, Trixie Lulamoon, always told her awful stories about. Stories she didn’t really believe. Until now.

To call the village ‘ruined’ would have been an understatement. A fountain that sat in the center of the square, reduced to hunks of scarred concrete, ran muddy brown with a thick pollutant Quantum cared not to identify. Deep ruts had been gouged from the earth in places, such that they reminded the minty mare of a novel she once read about alien invaders that had blown holes in cities with orbital bombardment. Burnt haystacks mingled with overturned vegetable carts that were laying among half eaten produce left to rot in the sun.

Everywhere she looked, Quantum saw only one thing.

Canterlot.

“H-Hal…?” The minty mare swallowed, taking a few steps back from the carnage. “Hal…what is all this…? Hal?”

Only a pattering of raindrops on her muzzle and a stray, black leaf that had fluttered down from a dead tree replied. Quantum looked up to find that she had backed into a single raincloud, which was now matting her seagreen mane with drizzle. It was a bright, shiny day overhead – complete with fluffy white clouds, dark rainy clouds, and frigid clouds dumping snow in random places that was turning into puddles before it hit the grass.

“W-what in…?” Quantum closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. “Stop…stop this, Quantum. Relax,” she told herself aloud, “you have to relax. You saw a tsunami rip apart an entire civilization twenty-thousand years ago. Ghost ponies are out to get you, you passed yourself off as a stallion, saved Equestria from an apple famine, beat a card shark at his own game…you can handle this.”

Quantum opened her eyes. And again there was Canterlot. Everywhere her sapphire eyes dared to stray, the burnt hay and cracked wood were eroded masonry and black shadows of vaporized greenery. The produce carts were bleached bodies lying in the sun, and the incessant rattling of dry branches in the breeze was the howling laughter of Trixie Lulamoon. Twenty thousand years ago, a civilization that was not Quantum’s died. But this was her Equestria. Her Canterlot.

Her crime.

Quantum screamed.

Kicking up dust on her heels and without destination, the minty mare fled across a partially destroyed stone bridge that presided over a river of sludge. The carnage followed her, giving her no quarter. She begged the hallucinations to end, her vision hazing with tears until she impacted with something soft but solid enough to send her flying in the direction she had come. Landing on her back with a yelp, Quantum scrambled up to a sitting position and rubbed her head, adrenaline dissipating from her brain until rational thought began to return.

She looked up and found that she was not alone.

Another pony was there. Or at least, it looked like a pony. It was about the size and shape of a pony, with a flowing well-kept mane of bubblegum and pastel pink that was stark contrast to the bushy, wild curls of its tail. Its coat was predominantly pale yellow with soft pink blotches – or maybe it was pink with yellow blotches. Quantum couldn’t be sure, but the mottled coloring spread over its entire body, making it hard to determine where one color ended and the other began. Its eyes seemed to swirl and shift between hues of blue and green entirely on their own. The strange pony was grinning broadly, and it had its attention focused solely on Quantum. Its cutie mark depicted a random assortment of butterflies and balloons.

“Heebieee~” The curious pony emitted a noise through its teeth that sounded like a giggle…sort of. Its grin broadened to the point that it outpaced even the most excited foal on Hearthswarming’s Eve.

“H-hello?” Quantum ventured.

“Hello!” The pony, seemingly a mare by its general shape and tone of voice, quite literally bounced over to the minty mare on its hooves as if it were a rabbit. “Hello hello!”

Quantum wasn’t sure if the pony was returning her greeting or just blindly repeating her words. “Yeah, um…hello,” she raised a brow as the pony began to lick its hoof like a cat grooming itself. “Are you…okay? What happened here?”

“Shypie!” The pony exclaimed, returning immediately to its grooming.

“…what?”

“Shypie!” The curious mare repeated. It then took up Quantum’s foreleg in its own and made as if to lick her too. The minty mare pulled away.

“Um, no…no thanks,” she said, as politely as she could manage. “Shy…pie? Is that your name?”

“Shypie! Heebieee~~” Seemingly pleased, the earth pony bounced in place and grinned that same grin that made her look like a jack-o-lantern covered in pink and yellow paint. Before Quantum could get another word in, the colorful mare thrust out her hoof. Resting atop it was a single, blooming daisy. “Kindness!” The mare cried.

Quantum tilted her head at the spectacle. The hoof was waggled in her face so many times that she finally took to reaching out for the little flower – she remembered that the image of herself she’d seen moments before was clearly that of an earth stallion, and thus perhaps it was better she take the offering with her teeth rather than magic. “Thank—”

The mare’s other forehoof came down hard on the flower, so fast that Quantum barely had time to get her muzzle out of the way before Shypie crushed the tip of it. The colorful pony mooshed the flower between her forehooves, grinding and squashing it like putty until it fell to the grass in a mess of pollen and green stains.

“Laughter!” Shypie sang. Apparently deciding the conversation was over, the bizarre creature turned and began hopping down the street in long vaults.

“Hey! Wait!” Quantum favored the murdered flower with a final glance and left it there, scrambling to catch up to the mare that had killed it so gleefully. “Stop! What’s going on here!? Don’t just leave!”

The pursuit continued for a good ten minutes. Quantum’s poor heart was spared the time necessary to take in more of the shattered surroundings, but her lungs eventually failed her and left her leaning on the side of a building, panting to refill them with oxygen. She watched the victorious Shypie leap out of sight, her vaults having not decreased in the slightest even after a spirited chase.

“What in Equestria was that all about?” The minty mare mused aloud. “What was she?”

Quantum scanned the area and found it to look very much like any other part of town she’d seen in terms of destruction. A coldness shambled down her spine, and despite the warmth of the season, she wrapped her forelegs around herself and shivered. She began checking the burnt out husks for some building that was still structurally sound enough to provide some escape from the ghosts all around. Her search did not take long.

Her ears perked as she stepped warily across the threshold of one such structure. There was a noise within. A white noise, like humming from a generator. Curiosity took her – Quantum hadn’t seen any such technology in Ponyville during her brief stay with the Apples, but then, for all she knew she could be far in the future. Or the past.

Suddenly she was a filly in a candy store.

The building she had entered was alive with technology from a number of different disciplines. There were wooden lab tables outfitted with beakers and chemistry equipment, goggles and torches for welding, and machines with numeric readouts that were adorned with complex pulley systems. The humming was coming from tesla coils arcing power between them, electric lightbulbs, and a curious cylindrical container bolted to the floor that held a suspension liquid contained behind glass. Quantum took note of the fact that it was curiously empty, but her eyes strayed away and her thoughts quickly turned to the model airplanes and myriad ticking clocks hanging from the ceiling.

“This…” she marveled, feeling dwarfed by it all until a genuine fillygrin split her cheeks, “…this is awesome! I could build another Accelerator with all this if it weren’t so…so…” Her brow furrowed as she poked at a few vacuum tubes arranged on a nearby stool. “…so archaic. I haven’t seen tech like this since I was making potato clocks in primary school.”

“You’re not far off,” a familiar voice commented. There was a momentary, familiar flash of white light, and Quantum turned to find Hal stifling a yawn. His busy frosted manetips were ungroomed, there were bags under his eyes, and his wings were on auto pilot, causing him to hover in place lazily. “It took forever to triangulate your position this time,” he complained. “We were up all night. Couldn’t you, I dunno...vault into somepony who’s in the middle of a good night’s sleep or something?”

Quantum didn’t even try to return the quip. “What’s happening? Where am I? What’s going on!? Why does it look like everything blew up?!” The fear and exhaustion were so prevalent in her eyes that Hal instantly regretted his words.

“Cutie, calm down,” he commanded. “I’ll tell you what I know so far, but what’s gotten into you? You look like you’ve seen the Headless Horse.”

“I just…” Quantum faltered, her brain still overlaying images of a future Canterlot over the Ponyville of today. She took a deep breath and shook her head from side to side so hard she had to adjust her glasses afterwards. “Just…forget it. Hooves in the game. Tell me what you’ve got for me.”

Hal quirked a brow and made a face, but digressed. He slid the colorful, well-lit device that looked like a television remote out of his pocket protector and started booping away with a hoof. “You’re in Ponyville again. The year is 2015. Sometime in…summer it looks like.”

Quantum glanced around at all of the equipment and instantly understood why it looked the way it did. In 2015, this was pretty much the pinnacle of what could be called a science laboratory in Equestria. But what was it doing in a sleepy hamlet like Ponyville? There were too many questions running through her mind, and her head was starting to develop a dull throb to match the one in her stomach. She levitated her glasses off long enough to rub the bridge of her muzzle.

“Might not want to do the unicorn thing too much,” Hal advised, pointing at a mirror on the wall. Quantum noted the chocolate brown earth stallion with the fine taste in neckwear looking back at her.

“Right, I saw that already. Who am I?”

Hal beeped and booped while Quantum approached the mirror to compare her narrow muzzle and sapphire eyes with the rounded snout and baby blues of her counterpart.

“Hooves,” Hal finally replied.

“Huh?” Quantum lifted a hoof and inspected it. “What about them?”

“No,” Hal corrected. “Hooves. That’s your name. Doctor Hooves.”

Quantum scrunched her muzzle. “I’m a doctor? What am I a doctor of? Hooves? Am I a podiatrist or something?”

Hal was furiously booping, “Gimmie a minute. Tissy feeds information into this thing faster than I can process it back out. You know how she is when it comes to strings of raw data.”

Quantum had the good doctor’s reflection make a face in the mirror and flatten his ears. “…how is she?”

“About what you’d expect,” Hal said without breaking stride in his work. “She misses you.”

“She said that?”

“No,” Hal replied. “But she doesn’t need to. She named Brutus after you.”

“What?”

Hal paused. “…forget it. Let’s just try to figure this all out and get you home so we can go back to better times and helping Tissy find her cutie mark.” He moved right into the task at hand. “You’re a scientist. And that’s your name, Doctor Hooves. I guess vaulting into somepony you can share a vocation with is a relief, huh?”

Quantum stepped away from the mirror and focused on a crack in the wall where sunlight was visible. There were a dozen more such cracks positioned throughout the building, such that she was surprised the equipment within hadn’t been damaged. A more appraising glance at the room in general told her some of the machines had indeed been damaged in the recent past, and were subsequently repaired.

“…so my name is Who?”

“What?”

“No,” Quantum corrected, “Who.”

“What who?”

“This Who,” Quantum indicated herself.

“Oh, Doctor.”

“What?”

“Doctor.”

“Doctor….Who, right?”

“Who?”

“Doctor Who,” Quantum rumbled. “So my name is Who.”

“I know who you are.”

Quantum waved her forelegs in front of Hal’s grinning mug. “Stoppit. I’m a doctor. And my name is Who.”

Hal chuckled. “Hooves. Doctor Hooves. And sort of, but your first name actually is ‘Doctor’.”

Quantum glanced back in the mirror. “…wow. Talk about having your life planned out for you. This guy would make a horrible comedian. Or maybe a hilarious one.”

Hal moved on. “Anyway. Tissy doesn’t have any evidence that Ponyville was in a situation like this twenty-four years ago, but you know that doesn’t rule out the possibility that this could be an anomaly in our own timestream. Everything you do here might still affect future events in our own reality.”

“But why am I here?” Quantum asked the obvious question, levitating a beaker off a lab bench and swirling around an ambiguous magenta liquid within. “And who or what in Equestria was that…thing I met earlier?”

Hal examined his display – he hovered slightly higher, his wings on auto-pilot again. “Tissy says there’s a…wait, what?” He smacked his control device against the flat of his hoof, “C’mon Tissy, get the bolts out this morning. That makes no sense.”

“What makes no sense?” Quantum persisted, huffing out an annoyed breath.

“Doccccc!” An unfamiliar voice caused both ponies to stare at the door, which was being pushed ajar on what it had left for hinges. “Hey Doc? You home?”

Hal phased through a table. Quantum rolled her eyes at him until he fluttered back up into the open with a sheepish look. The minty mare, realizing there was nowhere to go, took a deep breath and steeled herself against whatever bizarre creature was coming to get her this time.

In walked a pony. A very normal looking pegasus mare with a gray coat, a scruffy, ash-yellow mane and tail, and a pattern of bubbles on her rump. She had a covered picnic basket hooked around one hoof and was three-legging it along with a bright smile on her muzzle. The new arrival’s eyes passed right over Hal, but her grin widened when they landed on Quantum.

“Hey Doc!” The mare smiled lopsidedly, bucking the door closed hard enough to weaken its hinges even more. “I made muffins!”

“Uh…hi?” Quantum replied. She glanced at Hal out of the corner of her eye. The burnt-orange pegasus was booping furiously at his controls.

“Gee Doc,” the newcomer went on, sitting the basket on the lab bench while simultaneously knocking a test tube rank onto the floor and spilling its contents. “I was flying over before and I saw you running around town. I tried to say hi but you seemed really busy. Did something happen?”

“Well…” Quantum sputtered, “That is…I—”

“Trottingham accent!” Hal cut in, beeping with abandon, “You have a Trottingham accent!”

“Eh, ah…” the minty mare took a breath, “Roight! Well…yanno gov, I was jus’…runnin’ off me bangers and mash wif’ a good stretch of ye olde fetlocks, savvy?”

“…what, Doc?”

“Less Trottingham accent!” Hal smacked his forehead, “You can’t speak bumpkin, you can’t speak Trottinghammer—haven’t you ever watched a play or someth—you really need an acting coach!” The pegasus tripped over his words and rolled his eyes dramatically, “Just speak normally. It’ll have to do!”

“I was out for a run!” Quantum blurted, never taking her eyes off the newcomer. “It’s a nice day for a run! Running! It’s good for you!”

To the minty mare’s surprise, the gray pegasus only shrugged. “Oh. Okay!” With a smile, she threw back the checkered towel over the picnic basket with her teeth and grinned. “Muffin?”

Quantum raised a curious brow at the mare with the basket of muffins. She attempted to follow the pony’s gaze, but found herself trying to stare in two directions at once. The gray pegasus had a serious lazy eye problem. One of her golden yellow orbs was nearly always staring in a different direction than the other.

“Ditzy Doo,” Hal finally provided. “Also goes by Muffins, but apparently most of her friends call her Derpy Hooves.”

“You don’t say,” Quantum commented drolly as she watched the gray pony just now notice she had spilled the test tubes. Derpy looked around for a mop, shrugged, and was bending down to lick up the random potions until Quantum flicked the nearby mop in her direction with magic. The mop bopped Derpy in the noggin. She looked up, grinned broadly at its sudden presence as if it were a gift from above, and nabbed it in her teeth to go to work.

“Wait, Hooves?” Quantum asked, “Are they related?”

Hal booped and shook his head. “Inconclusive, but apparently she hangs out at the Doctor’s lab so much it might as well be her home. She’s an oddjobber with a couple of regular gigs – works at a moving company sometimes, a printing press, delivers parcels for the postal service, and, well,” Hal waved at the basket, “she bakes muffins. Apparently she’s known for them. Try one.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because if your stomach doesn’t shut up soon I’m gonna start considering it to be disturbing the peace, and that’s saying something in a town where everything already is disturbed.”

Quantum flashed her companion a smart-aleck look and approached Derpy from behind. The mare was at her toil and was whistling while she worked – Quantum couldn’t help but wonder how this curious pony could be so bright and cheery considering the nightmare landscape just outside the door. Instinctively, she caught a muffin in the glow of her magic and began levitating it towards her mouth.

“No unicorn magic!” Hal reproached.

Quantum dropped the muffin in her mouth the moment Derpy turned around. The minty mare stood there stupidly, lips crammed full of pastry and intending to talk through it to explain herself, but Derpy only grinned.

“Good idea Doc! It’s probably lunchtime!” With that, the gray pegasus nabbed a muffin of her own and busied herself enjoying it. Quantum whewed mentally and followed suit, but a sudden sharp pain in her jaw caused her to meal to escape her and fall to the floor.

“Ow!” she hissed, holding a hoof over her lips, “I feel like I just chipped a tooth! What’s in these things!?”

Derpy looked up innocently. “Rocks. Why?”

“R-rocks!?” Quantum looked back at Hal, who shrugged obliviously, “Rocks? But….rocks? Seriously, you put rocks in a batch of muffins?”

Derpy took no offense. “Aw, c’mon Doc. We talked about rockmuffins like two weeks ago.”

“And what exactly did we say about ‘rock muffins’ two weeks ago!?” Quantum huffed. Derpy’s smile finally vanished.

“There are no more berries. And no more fruit. And no more sweets. And almost no more grain. Plain muffins aren’t any fun.”

Quantum could feel the striking iron of her anger temper and cool. Her heart filled with pity, and she reached out, laying a hoof atop one of Derpy’s.

“Right,” the minty mare admitted, “Right, of course. I forgot all about that. Of course that’s the reason. Thank you for lunch.” When Derpy’s smile returned, Quantum moved to raise her hoof.

It didn’t move.

“Huh?”

Quantum yanked. Once. Twice. On the third yank she pressed her hind leg to the lab bench for support and pulled so hard, inertia ended up causing her to topple onto her back. When she recovered, she could only glance at her own hoof, and then at Derpy’s.

“What…what just--?”

“Gee,” Derpy observed. “It’s a little stronger than yesterday, huh.”

The gray pegasus turned obliviously back to her toil, humming a pleasant tune. Quantum looked to Hal, who was back to loudly beeping and booping colorful buttons on his device.

“Hal,” Quantum whispered, “what was Tissy trying to say before? For Celestia’s sake, I don’t care how weird it sounds, tell me what’s going on here!”

Hal responded by smacking a button that opened up a floating, gleaming white portal back to 2039. “I have to be sure what I’m reading. Sit tight. Have another muffin, eat around the rocks, and try to get some rest. Just whatever you do, don’t touch that mare over there.”

“Why—”

“Just don’t touch her.”

Hal barked out the order with such force that the minty mare turned sciencepony stallion was left with nothing to say.

5.2 - Rock Muffins

July 12, 2015

Ponyville -- Doctor Hooves' Laboratory

Sunday Evening

Quantum worked long into the night. On nothing.

There was little the minty mare hated more than a problem she couldn’t wrap her head around. Idle hooves and wandering eyes only brought back disturbing memories of Canterlot, so she ignored the ruin of Ponyville as best she could and set her mind instead on any menial task she could find. Every sprocket in Doctor Hooves’ lab was well-oiled; every diode checked and rechecked; every device she could find that wasn’t too old for her to understand taken apart and put back together again. Desperate not to run out of things to do, she even took up a mop and made a section of the floor shine twice over, until a smacking sensation from behind caused her to jump with alarm.

Glancing back, she found herself rump to rump with the gray, muffin-bearing lab assistant, who was holding another mop and going about the same toil. Derpy grinned and stuck out her tongue playfully. Quantum resisted the urge to adjust the glasses she wasn’t supposed to be wearing, blushed, and turned her attention to the starry sky beyond the window, blemished with clouds bearing every conceivable type of precipitation.

“What time is it?” She asked absently, realizing she’d long since lost track.

“Uhhh…” Derpy glanced in the same direction, and then turned back to Quantum with a satisfied look on her muzzle. “Nighttime. Why?”

Quantum opened her mouth, but quickly thought the better of continuing such a conversation in her current company. She made to move away, but realized with a jerking sensation that she was…rooted to the spot, her rump now stuck to Derpy’s.

“Oh you have got to be—” Quantum cursed at her own behind, narrowing her eyes at the embarrassing mare-to-mare connection. She began pulling and yanking with her whole body, skidding her hooves on the smooth tile floor. “…just…a little…ngh…more…gah…here…and…OOF--!”

In a flourish, Quantum found herself flat on her stomach six feet away, her cheek mooshed against the cold, unrelenting tile. She’d spun halfway around during her short flight, and from her new vantage she could see Derpy’s bucking hind leg extended outward. The gray pegasus was still looking over her shoulder and grinning lopsidedly.

“Gee Doc, you act like you didn’t see it coming this time,” Derpy observed.

“Right…” Quantum muttered, getting to her hooves, “I have a real problem with anticipating being kicked in the butt…” she trailed off and turned to check her rump. The layers of her soft, minty coat were intact, despite the fact that she felt as though she’d just been ripped away from a giant adhesive bandage after having been stuck to it for a week. “What in Celestia is going on…dammit where’s Hal…”

“Who?”

Quantum found Derpy suddenly muzzle to muzzle with her. “Hall!” She yelped, “I said, where’s…where’s the hall! I have to go, uh..go to the…little mare’s room!”

Derpy stared.

“Stallion’s room!” Quantum hastily corrected, “Stallion’s room! In the hall! I have to go to!”

Derpy pointed to the front door. “You told me the bathroom’s radioactive, Doc. Something blew up in there once. Did you get a bad muffin? Sometimes too much sediment gets in them, and I know I’m supposed to watch for that, but it’s not always easy when you’re using a colander and you get those big clumps in there and—”

The bubble-flanked pegasus rambled on until Quantum simply backed herself through the door. She didn’t really want to go outside, but she’d talked her way into a corner yet again and was left with little alternative. A small hailstone repelled off her ear and smacked her in the forehead, jarring her and obliging her to step out from under the one small cloud that was emitting them.

Quantum looked up, this time calm enough to better appraise her surroundings. The whole town looked like a war had broken out, but despite the signs of blood and other puddles of unidentifiable liquids, the were no bodies left to bleach in the moonlight. The conglomeration of random clouds in the sky suggested no pegasi had tended them in a long while, and the fallow cracks in the earth were in desperate need of an earth pony’s hoof.

“Sunrise…sunset,” the minty mare muttered to herself. What did the rest of Equestria look like? Were the princesses still at court? Certainly if the sun and moon were still sharing the sky at the right times…

Quantum wished Hal could just boop a button and whisk her away from this place, but she remembered that the current unstable condition of her molecules would likely cause them to scatter all over spacetime if he and Tissy tried to bring her back home by force. The mint-coated unicorn therefore had little choice but to let herself be carried along by the ebb and flow of realities. Closing her eyes in the face of a sudden spattering of rain that ceased as quickly as it began, she thought about the white pony. The specter who had been there since she leapt into the Accelerator with the intention to kill herself. What did the strange shroud want from her, and more importantly...why was she jumping through its hoops when she had been so ready to throw her life away?

“Hey Doc, what’cha doing out here?”

The voice, which was clearly not Derpy’s, broke Quantum’s introspection and caused her to glance around in confusion until she noticed the gentle slap of the damaged door as it closed again. She re-entered the lab to find three occupants – Derpy, still working at the now spit-and-polish perfect floor; Hal, who was hovering in place over a table, the portal back to 2039 just closing behind him; and a small purple baby dragon with green ridges. The dragon had a small satchel over his shoulder that he unceremoniously tossed on a lab bench. Punching his palm with a fist, he adopted a hoofball catcher’s position and grinned at Derpy.

“Muffin me!”

The gray pegasus immediately nabbed a rock-muffin out of a basket with her mouth and tossed it at the dragon, who caught it without moving a muscle. “Steeee-rike! Yer outta here!” The dragon grinned, tossing the muffin down his maw in one bite which he subsequently spoke right through. “Mnf! Yuu gotsh sapphires inn em thish time!”

Derpy grinned proudly, “Your favorite right? We got lotsa gemstones. Just no bread. Or grain. Or—”

Derpy rattled on while Hal flitted over to Quantum, keeping his voice unnecessarily down. “I don’t need to press a bunch of buttons for you to know who that is, do I?”

Quantum brightened. She’d know her mentor’s assistant anywhere, even though by the time she met Spike he was considerably older, larger, and was serving as a sort of mediator between ponykind and dragonkind. Still, Princess Twilight had shown the minty mare enough photographs that she couldn’t possibly mistake him. “Spike!”

Spike turned, still chewing, “Wha’ss up Doc?”

Quantum was laughing, “Remember that time when we blew that beaker up in the science lab and burned Princess Twilight’s eyebrows off? Omigosh I was mortified…until I found out you set me up! Oh, I can look back on it and laugh now, but back then, geez…”

Silence. Six wide eyes were all focused on Quantum. Derpy dropped a muffin, and the light thumping noise was the only sound in the room until Hal cleared his throat.

“Cutie…” Hal sighed, “…you really need to think before you talk. Even setting aside the fact that nopony in the room could possibly have any idea what you’re talking about, you picked the single worst quip that could ever be picked. Now shut up so I can explain why—”

“D-doc…” Spike cut in, scratching the back of his neck with a claw and looking down, “…uh, what are you talking about? You saw Twilight?”

“I…uh…” Quantum barely avoided rolling her eyes at herself and spun a new web, wondering how many vaults it would take before she’d either learn to cover her tracks like a master or just not screw up in the first place. “I meant…I had this dream last night where we…did that…” she laughed dryly, “…and it just seemed, you know, funny at the time! I mean you know how dreams are! You wake up and you’re like, why was that funny? Why was that scary? Why was I trying to power temporal displacement devices with rutabagas? The usual stuff, you know?”

Spike paused just long enough for Quantum to feel the pangs of mortification, and then finally offered a weak laugh of his own. “Oh, yeah…right, sure. Dreams are always like that, eh heh. That’s a good one Doc! Really!”

With the tone he used, Spike might as well have had the words ‘I’m lying’ tattooed on his forehead. During the ensuing silence, Derpy went back to her work, Spike began fidgeting with the satchel on the table, and Hal went into explanation mode.

“Alright. So,” he began. “We were right about the time and place. Whatever’s happening here is either some freak accident of science or an epidemic disease. Did you meet a strange pony when you first got here?”

Quantum meandered over to a random device and pretended to check it, keeping her voice down, “Yeah. Shypie. Strange doesn’t begin to describe it. She gave me a flower and then nearly crushed my septum while shouting about laughter and kindness. And she had all these butterflies and balloons for a cutie mark.”

Hal folded his forelegs. “Put two and two together. Literally. Do you know any ponies associated with butterflies and kindness, or balloons and laughter?”

Quantum was about to make a joke about the circus, but she gasped softly, and she wouldn’t say it. Her expression was enough.

“Right,” Hal continued. “We don’t...precisely know how, but whatever it is, it’s...” Hal paused, searching for any words that might make his explanation sound slightly less preposterous, “It’s merging infected ponies together. Combining their bodies and personalities, and if that Shypie character is any indication, the resulting chemical mess of smashed together neurons is leaving the resulting...creature anywhere from a vegetable to a criminally psychopathic mess. Behavior likely varies wildly from creature to creature.”

Quantum made a show out of polishing a collection of brass pipes that didn’t really need polishing, and spoke out of the corner of her mouth without looking at her fellow conspirator. “Hal, you’ve told some doozies in your time, but that’s ridiculous. You can’t expect me to believe a disease is combining ponies like silly putty.”

Hal hmphed. “Have you touched Derpy since I told you not to? I know you have, don’t even bother trying to lie to me. If you didn’t do it by accident then you did it out of curiosity.”

Quantum had no reply. Encouraged by the small victory, Hal went on, booping as he spoke. “Tizzy says there’s an eighty-four point five percent chance that inside of a month, the two Hooves’ ponies of indeterminate relation will be just as much of a molecular soup as that nutsy butterflies and bubblegum mare you encountered earlier today. And before you ask me how that will affect you, I have no idea, but suffice to say that you can feel pain. Imagine what it’s going to feel like to gradually have every molecule in your body torn apart at the atomic level and transmorgrified with that slightly ditsy young mare over there. If the effect itself doesn’t drive you insane, the agony certainly will.”

Quantum flooded her mind with questions in order to banish the gruesome imagery. She nodded at Spike, who was fiddling with something that looked like a desk lamp. “What about him?”

“Tissy doesn’t think the disease spreads past ponykind. But Equestria has enemies, Cutie. They’re sure to take what’s being given to them on a silver platter, if they haven’t already. You saw what the town looked like out there, though I think all that was less from some sort of battle than it was just a result of these...new beings simply not having the will or mental capacity to tend their own lives anymore.”

“It’s dark outside,” Quantum retorted, “And it was sunny earlier. The princesses must still be in control.”

Hal fidgeted with the collar of his patterned sky blue and bright orange turtleneck. “Cutie...look closer.”

Quantum tilted her head in confusion, but following Hal’s pointing hoof, made for the window and looked up at the night sky. The moon was in full bloom...except for a tiny sliver of light that was showing in a crescent shape just at its edge. The minty mare furrowed her brow.

“What…is that? The moon can’t do that.”

“The other side is the sun,” Hal said gravely. “According to Tissy the sun and the moon are merged just as much as these ponies are. And it’s just rotating up there, bathing one half of everything in sunlight while the other half gets the dark of night. Did you happen to notice the lengthening of shadows during the day? I bet if you look tomorrow, you’ll see them moving differently.”

Hal was going on as though he was lecturing to an advanced astronomy class. Cutie shot him a look, melting the small smile that the natural curiosity of a scientist had graced his lips with.

“What am I supposed to do?” Quantum swallowed. “Wait around until my molecules rip apart?”

Hal only shrugged. “I’d be looking for a cure, if I were you. Before you go insane.”

“I’m a theoretical quantum mechanic, not a doctor!” Quantum shouted, gesturing so wildly with a foreleg that she sent a few empty cans of dubious origin clattering loudly to the floor. “Where do I even begin!? It’s one thing to learn to walk like I’ve had stallion parts between my legs all my life or count cards in a poker game, but you’re asking me to cram thousands of hours of anatomy, physiology, internship, medical science, and epidemiological research into what, a few weeks? And the whole time I could end up gradually cracking up in the head and screaming in pain while my body merges with that googly-eyed rock baker over there!?” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling dramatically, now addressing the absent white pony, “You have got to be kidding this time! I dunno what you’re really expecting of me, but do you think I’m Starswirl the Bearded or something!? This is impossible!”

Quantum finally noticed the urgent message her ears were sending her, one that she’d heard moments before as well. Silence. She turned to find her two tangible companions staring at her again. Derpy glanced down, a dismayed and hurt look on her face, while Spike just shook his head.

“We gotta do something, Doc!” Spike, sitting on the edge of a table and kicking his legs, sounded as though he was chancing into a topic none of them had dared touch on yet. “We gotta do something or everypony’s gonna end up…y-you know. Like…like Twilight…and all my friends…” The little dragon hung his head.

Quantum felt shame, and approached the pair with her eyes averted as well, focusing instead on the satchel still lying on the table.

“I’m…sorry. Both of you.” She reached out a hoof and touched Derpy’s mane lightly, just patting her a bit like a dog, but the bubbly mare brightened instantly. “The rocks are…great. A-and you’re right Spike.” She took a breath, forcing her emotions down. “What’cha got in here?”

Spike, forgetting his melancholy, grinned and started rummaging. “Oh you know, whatever I can find that we might be able to use! Like this!” He pulled out a small petunia plant in a basket, “Or this!” Next emerged an empty pie plate with crumbs in it. Spike ahemed, “I ate the pie, sorry. But it was pretty wormy and for some reason ponies get sick when that happens. Hey, how about this!?” He yanked out a large rusty spring, inspected it, scowled, and then tossed it over his shoulder, where it bonked an oblivious Derpy on the head. “…nah maybe not that. But heyyyy, I got this too!”

And on went the introduction to useless piece of junk after useless piece of junk, until Quantum began to wonder if the little satchel was somehow enchanted to hold a dozen times its capacity. When Spike finally finished, he looked up, and his expression finally faltered back into uncertainty.

“So whattaya say, Doc? Can we use any of this stuff?”

Spike’s crocodile eyes were as impossible to resist as Twilight always said they were, and the hope fueling Derpy’s expression only fanned the flames.

“Cutie,” Hal said from somewhere behind the minty mare, “We can do this. Tissy can do anything. You can do anything if you put your mind to it.” Hal made tapping sounds on his control device and immediately spoke up again. “Tissy says you need a blood sample from a pony who is already in the end stages of the disease for comparison, so she can start analyzing the genetic markers. I guess that means—”

“Shypie,” Quantum finished the thought.

“Huh?” Spike queried. “…what about…her?” The very name seemed to haunt Spike a bit, but Quantum reached down a hoof and touched his shoulder.

“Shypie is the key. Thanks Spike, this stuff will be very useful.”

“Useful for what?” Hal and the little dragon intoned together, the latter fingering a length of rope that was still snaking out from the satchel. Quantum looked smug.

“We’re going hunting.”

5.3 - The Hunt for Pink October

July 14, 2015

Ponyville

Tuesday

Monday was a maelstrom of sprockets, gears, and a number of unidentifiable devices from Spike’s satchel that Quantum made do with. By Tuesday morning the mint-coated unicorn’s plans were in action, though her companions were as much in the dark as the lunar face of the conjoined sphere overhead. Hal, the only member of the troupe unaffected by the July heat, hovered over the hulk of an overturned carriage with his forelegs crossed, watching Quantum attempt to huddle behind it with Derpy while also avoiding her.

“Cutie,” The burnt-orange pegasus hmphed, “How many times have we been lab partners in class? I know you have blinders on when you’re in the zone, but don’t you think it might help a *teensy* bit if you actually clued in the pony who, I dunno, spends every day of his life these days trying to keep you from getting yourself killed or worse?”

“Hush,” Quantum huffed at Hal while batting Derpy’s cloying hooves away with a stick as the clumsy gray mare sought purchase to peer over the cart. “You’re smart. You have to know what I’m up to by now. I didn’t think I’d have to explain.”

“Not the point,” Hal muttered. “You’re trying to catch that Shypie character and get a blood sample off of her for Tissy to scan,” He waved his foreleg at the empty street on the other side of the fallen cart, “But do you really think this is going to work?”

In the middle of the street, among bits of ruined masonry and other hunks of offal, stood Spike. The little dragon was arranging a small collection of muffins from a picnic basket neatly atop a crudely painted X symbol on the ground. Above the symbol, tall enough to be masked by the rays of the morning sun, was a large net, woven from bits of scavenged hemp, bed sheets, and weighted by broken up hunks of old clay flowerpots. The net was affixed to the exposed rafters of a house that was leaning so far into the street that it was in danger of toppling over – suspended by a makeshift quick-release clamp that was itself affixed to another series of bed sheets, tied together until they extended all the way back to the cart.

Hal rubbed the bridge of his nose after giving the ridiculous contraption another once-over. “Build a better mousetrap much?”

“It’ll work!” Quantum insisted, shaking the end of the line of bed sheets and making them all flap in the wind. “All we have to do is confuse her and immobilize her for a few seconds. Just enough time to pounce on her and get what we need.” She patted a small bag that was attached to a strap and looped over her shoulder. “Got syringes handy and everything.”

Hal’s expression suggested that he did not share his classmate’s enthusiasm for the project at hand. “So your plan is to leave a bunch of muffins on the ground, wait for the amalgamated and potentially dangerous PinkyFlutterPieShy to come traipsing along to munch on said muffins, whereupon you intend to yank on those bed sheets, wait for a net made of more bed sheets and flowerpots to fall on her, and then you, Derpy, and a *baby* dragon are going to leap on her and hold her down until you can take out a syringe, which I might add you have no experience in the proper use of, jam it into her, and extract blood?”

Quantum nodded almost as vigorously as Derpy, who was doing so simply because Doctor Hooves was.

“Cutie…” Hal just shook his head and fluttered back a bit in the air, making a surrendering gesture with his forelegs. “You don’t need me to remind you that the last time you had a scheme like this, applebucking turned into deforestation. But you know what? Knock yourself out. Get it out of your system because I know you’re not gonna be satisfied until you do.”

Quantum scooted as far away from Derpy as she could manage and still be hidden behind the cart. For a whole day she had been burying herself in material scavenging, planning, and building. The toil had taken her mind off her predicament and even made her feel a little at home in this absurd place. But the veiled horror, tempered only by companions and gentle banter, was draping over her mind again. Sometime in the late afternoon yesterday, she noticed that whenever Derpy moved out of a six hoof range, Quantum could feel a gentle tug, as though she was a bottle of wine that had just been unstoppered. When the gray pegasus mare got too close, the hairs on Quantum’s coat would rise and point at her like static cling, and she could swear she was having to make an active effort to keep her body from naturally wandering in Derpy’s direction like a paperclip towards a giant electromagnet.

It was fascinating. It was also absolutely terrifying.

“Hey Doc,” Spike, who was now standing next to the cart with the empty basket swinging from his elbow, looked on. “Do you really think this is gonna work? We’re not gonna hurt her, are we?” The little dragon had a way of looking like a lost puppy when he was even slightly dismayed. “I mean, Shypie is…weird, but there’s still two of my best friends in there…”

Quantum added a soothing note to her voice that she picked up long ago, ironically, from her mother. “Don’t worry. We’re not gonna hurt anypony. This’ll bring us one step closer to finding a cure. And then we’ll put everything right again.” Quantum’s smile grew wan. “It’s gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna…be okay. You’ll see.”

Spike’s frown lifted, and he nodded his scaly head. “Yeah. If you say so Doc, I believe you.” He turned to look back into the street, smiled, and waved a claw. “Oh hey Shypie. How’s it going?”

Quantum nearly rammed right into Derpy while clamoring to gawk over the cart. There, standing in the street clear as day next to the red X, was her quarry – the pony with Fluttershy’s mane, Pinkie Pie’s tail, and a mishmash of colors and cutie symbols on her body that made it look as though the two of them had been rolled into a ball and fired like clay. The curious creature was waving a foreleg vigorously at Spike, who was standing out in the open.

“Shypie!” She—it called.

Quantum hooked a foreleg around Spike and dragged him behind the cart fast enough to elicit a yelp and nearly cause the dragon to lose his footing. “Will you get back here!? She can see you!”

“Oh, uh…is she not supposed to see me?” Spike fidgeted in Quantum’s grasp. She rolled her eyes, let him go, and peered again over the lip of the fallen wagon. Shypie, still just standing there, smiled and waved in response.

“Come on…” Quantum hissed under her breath, “…just a little closer to the X…take the muffins…nice sweet bran muffins…”

Shypie waved at Derpy, who was now perched atop the cart and waving vigorously back. Hal, hovering somewhere nearby, laughed softly just as the minty mare held herself back from reaching out to grab and drag the gray pegasus back.

“What are you doing—oh just forget it…” Quantum sighed. When Shypie bent to sniff at a muffin, Quantum groped frantically for the bed sheet ‘trigger’…only to find it pinned under Derpy’s rump. She cursed herself for nearly touching the gray pegasus twice more before finally crying out for her to move.

Derpy shifted her weight and freed the trigger-rope, but Shypie was already staring at a butterfly and making ‘ooo’-ing noises, trotting farther away from the mark. Quantum felt her anger rise, but Hal stepped in, superimposing himself between the minty mare and Derpy, his wings passing through the latter’s head.

“Cutie, stop,” he reproached, “It’s not her fault. Shypie was barely under that X for a few seconds. The net never would have hit her.”

Quantum stared out at the muffins, which remained undisturbed. “But…why?” She muttered to herself, “I mean they’re just bran muffins. Why not eat one? Did she know what we were planning…?”

“What you were planning,” Hal corrected. Spike trotted right out to the muffins, nabbed one, and bit into it. He brightened.

“Ohhh hey!” The little dragon munched, “Thissh the best kind! Worms an’ everyfing!”

Quantum flashed an exasperated stare at Derpy, who only shrugged.

“I can’t make bran muffins, Doc. But I put a lot of pretty rocks in there that look like candy, and I thought maybe if the muffins were also moving, all that might get her attention! Cause…cause yanno,” Derpy whimpered and began counting on her hoof, “we’re all out of bran…and grain…and—“

Derpy rattled on again. Spike munched on the bait. Shypie bounced in the air, trying to catch the butterfly that was hovering just out of her reach. Hal did his best to stifle a chortle.

“Oh Cutie, I know you’re trying, but—“ Hal sputtered, “Let’s just go back to the lab, we’ll try something else—“

Before he could say another word, Quantum furrowed her brow, squared her shoulders, and marched out from behind her ‘hiding place’. Smooshing the final muffin under her hoof and paying no attention to Spike’s complaints, she stood upon the field of battle, muzzle to giggle with her opponent. A tumbleweed rolled by. Spike followed it with his eyes, wondering how it got into Ponyville.

“Listen,” Quantum announced, “I know this isn’t clear to you…Shypie…but I need a sample of your blood. With that, we might be able to figure out what’s going on here and maybe even reverse the effect before it’s too late.” The minty mare peaked her eyebrows hopefully, “Do you…understand?”

Shypie turned to look at Quantum, panting like a puppy, her eyes wide with delight. “Shypie!” She sang, “Piesky Shypie! Heeebieee~” Giggling at her own rhythmic nonsense, she followed the path of the butterfly with her eyes until it flitted over and perched right on the tip of Quantum’s horn.

For a moment, there was nothing but abject silence as the unicorn went cross-eyed behind her glasses trying to stare up at the creature. She wondered what Shypie was seeing, looking only at the hornless Doctor Hooves, and then quickly realized it didn’t matter. Now was her chance. She lit the flame of her magic, heedless of showing it off, and caught the butterfly in its light, restraining it and pulling the startled, writhing creature down to eye level. Shypie’s stare followed it, and it was as if Quantum could see the question mark brewing above the mare’s head.

“You want this?” Quantum cooed cheerily and waved the butterfly before her. “C’mere. I got it for you. Come take a look!”

The grin that split Shypie’s features might as well have been a hinge for the entire top portion of her head. She bounced over, taking impossible strides with her leaps and coming in far too fast. Quantum’s eyes went wide.

“Wait! No!”

“What? Now?” Derpy called and glanced down at the bed sheet trigger she was now sitting on again, “Oh! Now!” Nabbing the sheet-rope in her teeth, the bubbled pegasus pony gleefully yanked just as Shypie came crashing down upon a shocked-stiff Quantum Trots Lulamoon.

Yelping and flailing for the shoulder pack that contained the syringes, Quantum kicked and fought against the tangled, weighted net and the writhing body of Shypie, who had given up on the escaping butterfly in favor of jumping up and down on the minty mare, cackling, and yelling about pillowfights.

“Help!” Quantum cried in a pitch unbecoming a stately stallion. “I’m gonna die!!”

Hal was doubled over with laughter and phasing his foreleg repeatedly through a rock in lieu of beating on it. Spike casually walked up to the fray and studied it.

“Doc? You need a hand in there?”

“Grab her!” Quantum shouted over the giggling din and shouts of ‘Laughter!’ from Shypie. “Stop her! Or hit her or something!!”

Spike faltered, shifting his weight and looking for an opportunity to leap into the fray.”Uh, right, umm…umm….now!” With that, the little lizard vaulted off his heels and landed directly on top of the tower of Quantum, Shypie, and finally the net, which he was obliged to grab and hold onto for dear life as Shypie gleefully bucked him.

“Rodeooooo!” The painted mare squealed, bucking wildly, “Yeehaw, tarnation apples! Rodeooooo!”

“F-fluttersh—! Pinkie P—!” Spike’s brain felt like it was being battered back and forth by tennis racquet between his ears, “Stop! I can’t hold on!! Doc, do something!!”

“I’m trying!” Quantum hissed through the empty syringe tube she had drawn from the pouch with her teeth, trying desperately to keep from crushing it as the blessedly lightweight form of Shypie trampled her repeatedly. “Just hold her still! Hal do something!”

Hal floated peacefully nearby and shrugged. “What do you want me to do? I’m a hologram, remember? You get the sample, I’ll scan it and send it to Tissy. That’s the plan, right?”

“Th-this p-p-plan s-sucks!” Quantum jittered between stomps, “Wh-whose i-i-idea w-was th-th-this??”

“Um, yours?” Hal glanced calmly upwards. “Oh hey, incoming. Brace yourself.”

With an undulation of limbs and a swishing of tails, the pile became one mare heavier as Derpy landed atop it from the sky, laughing like a hooligan. “Doc this is a great idea!” She cried, “This looks like so much fun!”

Worried that she might have her intestines stomped right out of her, Quantum braced against the triple-weighted assault, reared back with her magic, and jammed the syringe into Shypie’s shoulder – missing, if she only knew, a major artery by only a few inches. She managed to raise the plunger for perhaps two or three whole seconds before Shypie noticed the device sticking out of her side. Her eyes went wide and she emitted a banshee wail that nearly made Quantum’s interphased glasses shatter before her assault on the minty mare turned from playtime into terror.

“Doccccc!!” Spike was thrown clear, and landed with a thump somewhere in the dirt. Derpy was next, her face colliding with the building that the net contraption had been secured to. Shypie tore through the unsound net with her teeth and burst free, just before the entire building came crashing down on the spot, sending up an obscuring cloud of dirt and debris.

Hal coughed unnecessarily and beat his wings in a vain attempt to dissipate the cloud, his bemused demeanor vanishing. “Cutie? Cutie!” He fluttered deeper into the mist, “Speak to me! You okay!?”

Derpy and Spike approached the new pile of junk, the former succeeding where Hal the hologram failed in beating away the mist. Quantum sat in the middle of the destruction. She was shivering, her eyes shut tightly and her forelegs over her head, but she was alive.

“Woah, an open window fell on you!” Spike observed, “That’s amazing Doc, you ought to have a four leaf clover for a cutie mark!”

“Err…” Hal ahemed, drawing his control device from his pocket protector. “Did you get the sample?”

Without opening her eyes or ceasing to brace herself, Quantum’s foreleg shot up in the air – with the syringe containing just a few drops of Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie’s mingled blood resting on the flat of her hoof. Hal smiled.

“Nice work Cutie, nice work.”

“Shypie?”

All sets of eyes followed the sudden question. There was Shypie, standing only a few strides away. She tilted her head and trotted over the mangled mess, reaching down to nuzzle Quantum with her cheek.

“Kindness,” Shypie stated simply.

“D’awww!” Spike gushed, patting Shypie gently on the flank and receiving a nuzzle of his own in turn. “I bet we could have just walked up and asked her for her help. She’d understand.” Spike, grinning from ear to ear, met eyes with Shypie and took on a tone as if he were talking to a newborn foal. “Youuuu’d understand, wouldn’t you, cutie-wooty?” He instantly made a face, “Bleh, wait, what am I saying...”

“Shypie!” Shypie squealed. The enigmatic combination of ponies then leapt away, bouncing down the street while boisterously singing a nursery rhyme and replacing every third word with ‘cupcakes’, ‘bunnies’, or ‘Shypie’.

Hal booped a few buttons. “Good news is, you got enough for a sample. Other good news is, you’re not dead, and my scanner says you’re not even hurt except for bruises, so get up. Bad news is, the test results were inconclusive.”

Quantum rose and bore down on Hal, not even caring who saw Doctor Hooves shouting at nothing, “Incon—incon--!?”

Hal waved his forelegs as though he were expecting to be hoofed in the face. “C-calm down! We know more than we did so it wasn’t a total loss!”

Quantum shut her eyes, took a breath, counted to ten, and touched her forehooves to her temples. “…what do we know?”

Hal spoke over Spike and Derpy, who were both listing random pieces of inconsequential information in response to Quantum’s question. “Shypie is most definitely Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie combined at the molecular level. Judging by the rate of progress and the affect on various portions of the body and the mind, as the infection strengthens Tissy says it will stop at nothing to get you to purposefully or accidentally touch, hug, lay on, hold, or do whatever to another infected pony long enough for the combination process to begin. It seems to have the ability to access your senses too, so stay on your hooves or you may walk right into Derpy thinking she’s a doorway or something.”

“Great,” Quantum sighed, “So you’re saying I might go to the bathroom and come back with an extra head.”

Hal swallowed, “…apparently two is the max, which explains why your molecules didn’t react to Shypie, but...Tissy speculates that the pain from gradual atom smashing going on inside your body is likely enough to have driven most of these ponies insane long before the end stages of the disease.” He glanced at Derpy and Spike, who had coincidentally come across the same random fact and were casually discussing it. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like to see going on all around you…”

Quantum brushed some dust off her body and flattened her ears, looking on with her classmate. “…they’re a lot stronger and braver than anypony gives them credit for, I bet.” She sighed. “How long?”

Hal shook his head. “Dunno. But once it starts in earnest Tissy expects the combination process could last weeks. And if you’re sticking to one another then you’re both infected already.”

Quantum’s voice softened. “What do we do?”

Hal looked apologetic. “I…dunno that either. Go back to the lab. Rest. Princess Twilight and Tissy are some of the strongest minds in Canterlot. As soon as I know something, I’ll be back.” He managed a small smile. “Promise.”

Hal mashed some buttons, called the portal of white light that led back home, and vanished into it. Quantum watched the dragon and the ditsy pegasus chatter on amidst the ruin of Ponyville as though it were any other day. She approached, and soon the three of them were sharing in the simple camaraderie.

For dinner, they had ruby tortes. With real rubies.

5.4 - Heartbond

July 15, 2015

Ponyville

Wednesday

Quantum wondered if the sun side of the mottled heavenly body hanging over Ponyville was getting closer. Either that, or podunk Equestrian villages had a habit for boiling in the height of summer.

Quantum and the good doctor she was masquerading as thought alike – it didn’t take her long to find the futons he had set up in a dark corner of the lab for sleepless nights of inventing. They beat sleeping on the cold floor, but Quantum would be the last to test that theory. Derpy had a habit for draping herself spread eagle all over everything and snoring loudly as she slept. Quantum could get over the noise, but the clamminess of the humid night air combined with the terror of accidentally touching the ditsy pegasus, or mistaking her for a body pillow while the disease played on her sleepy mind kept Quantum up most of the night. The result was an unkempt, baggy-eyed, grumpy young unicorn with a strong desire for a cup of anything strong enough to kill the dull throbbing in the back of her head.

Settling for a mug of hot water warmed on a windowsill by the scorch of the morning sun, Quantum watched her two companions – the potbellied little dragon and the lazy-eyed bubble mare – nuzzle one another like teddy bears and snore away. They looked absolutely ridiculous. They had nothing left except each other, but Quantum found herself envying them anyway.

Quantum touched her cheek and wondered if she could ever again smile the way they did.

Her ears flicked at the sound of the portal to the future opening. Eager for news from Hal about a possible way out of this mess, she turned…and nearly dropped her mug at the sight before her.

“Hi Cutie,” Princess Twilight herself, devoid of her crown but levitating Hal’s control device, tilted her head in greeting and offered a wan smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Y-your Highness,” Quantum swallowed. She made to take a knee, but the hurt expression on Twilight’s muzzle gave her pause.

“You’re still doing that,” Twilight sighed. “Cutie, you used to call me ‘Twilight’. We spent so many nights of stargazing and studying.” The princess peaked her eyebrows. “Can’t you do that again? You know…” she ventured, “If I had had a daughter. I would have wanted her to be just like—“

Quantum looked away, guzzling the last of the water and letting out a lewd ‘ahhh’ noise as though she had just downed a fifth of turnip rum. “Princess. Where’s Hal?”

Twilight’s smile evaporated, and she made no attempt to hide her dismay. “Hal’s fine. We have a plan, but…you’re going to need me on this one.”

Quantum levitated the mug over to a table and didn’t look back. “I’m listening.”

Twilight took to wandering around the room, examining the dated technological decor and trying to dismiss her feelings. When she came to a window, she couldn’t help but look outside. The sight gave her pause.

“…”

Quantum could only watch her sovereign and mentor. Twilight caught the look and simply bowed her head.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…Ponyville has been my home for a long time. To see it like this, a-and to see…” She glanced over at Spike and favored him with a long, lingering stare. “…oh Spike. You always could keep a smile on your face.” She sighed, collecting herself. “I haven’t seen him like this in decades, but you know? If it hadn’t been for Spike, I would never have become what I am today.”

Quantum said nothing. There was nothing to say other than ‘I’m sorry’, but she’d never much cared for that generic response to the pain of others. It felt like sending somepony a get-well card with a stamped-on signature.

“A-anyway,” Twilight closed her eyes and took a breath. “We have business to attend to. In my first few years as the Princess of Friendship, I spent a lot of time building up the palace library.” She sighed, “Unfortunately over time, some books come, and some books go. I tried scouring every title I could think of for more information about what’s going on here, but I wasn’t able to come up with anything. However—” Twilight took a breath, “I distinctly remember coming upon a book of rare and bizarre disease epidemics sometime in my first five years as a princess. I gave that book away years ago, but it has to still be at the palace in this time period.”

Quantum tilted her head, “You’re sure?”

Twilight shrugged. “It’s the best chance we have. What’s happening to everypony is beyond anything we could hope to work up a cure for in the time available without guidance.”

Quantum brightened. “So all we have to do is traipse over to the Palace of Friendship and raid it for this book? That’s about the easiest solution to any problem I’ve had to deal with yet!” She glanced back at the sleeping pegasus and dragon who were entwined in one another, “I’ll just get these two up and we’ll get going—”

Twilight phased through some equipment and was suddenly between Quantum and the sleepers. “It’s not that easy.”

The minty mare rolled her eyes and couldn’t hide her indignation. “Why does that not surprise me? What’s going to happen now? Am I going to turn into a plate of peach cobbler or disintegrate or something if I don’t pass go and collect two hundred bits on my way there?”

Twilight furrowed her brow and fixed her student with a glare serious enough to quiet Quantum’s complaints. “I’ve been working with Tissy to learn all we can about this disease. One thing we can pretty safely assume is that the trauma from this kind of pain would sufficiently unhinge the host pony’s minds such that the disease can basically take over, reducing them to little more than the base components of their personality. Shypie is composed of Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy. That makes her kind and sweet, but she also tried to crush your muzzle and then stomp you to death in the name of laughter, so clearly the disease goes even deeper in perverting those base personality aspects.” Twilight levitated Hal’s control device up and began tapping buttons with her magic. “Our scans say there are definitely other ponies alive in this town other than Shypie, you, Derpy, and Spike.”

“I’ve been here a couple days already,” Quantum offered warily, “I haven’t seen anypony else.”

“They’re here,” Twilight insisted. “They’re in this town somewhere, and they all have the potential to be dangerous. We have to assume the worst, that nopony was able to escape this phenomenon.” Twilight paused, as if trying to steel herself from her own words. “And that means, if I was also a…’victim’…then you have a powerful alicorn princess somewhere in this town, who I guess would instinctively go straight to her books and start defending them like they were her children.”

“So, what you’re saying is…” Quantum turned away, “…you’re my enemy this time.”

“Possibly. We just don’t know. And because we don’t know, you need to be prepared. You should be treating this like a Daring Do novel, except that there’s no author guaranteeing your survival.” Twilight pointed at the sleepers, “Or theirs. Remember that you still have a reason for being here, and if you fail…well.”

Quantum let out a terse, equine snort. “So it’s either risk being mutilated by a rabid…you, or guarantee myself several weeks of excruciating pain until I go crazy.”

“Or whatever will happen to you if you stay here too long.”

Quantum felt her demeanor erode with fear. There was still the white pony to consider in all of this. She trotted over to a table piled high with the random odds and ends Spike had been collecting. “You’re a powerful alicorn princess, in your right mind, with decades more experience than the one living here. I don’t suppose you can help?”

“I’m not really here, Cutie,” Twilight replied somberly. “I’ll give you all the support I can, but my magic can’t affect anything in this spacetime continuum because I’m not a part of it. It’s like trying to reach into a dream and take something out with you when you wake up.”

Quantum favored the sleepyheads with a short nod. “Alright. I’ll do it. But they’ll be safer here. Don’t worry, I…won’t put Spike in danger.”

“Pssh, are you kidding?” Twilight grinned, “if I know Spike, he won’t let you go alone no matter what you say. And if you insisted he’d just disobey and follow you anyway.” The look she gave her old assistant was one of pure adoration. “I can’t say I’m not worried, but Spike knows the layout of the palace, and you need all the help you can get. Part of the magic of friendship is learning to accept the help and counsel of the friends you make. Spike is also unaffected by this condition, so if something were to…happen to you or Derpy, you may be relying on him more than you can imagine.”

Quantum felt herself smiling. She shook her head violently, tousling her unkempt mane to dismiss the sentiment and sat before the window, facing away from her mentor. “…you should just leave me be. I’m a criminal, remember?”

Twilight sighed. “And stubborn as a rock farm. You really are your mother’s daughter. First of all, we have no idea just what affect events that occur in this moment in spacetime might have on us. If you fail, our reality could be irrevocably altered. That makes this whole thing bigger than you. Secondly, you’re my student. And my friend.”

Quantum was practically pouting. “I already told you I’d do what I did for my mother again. That’s my magic of friendship.”

“I heard that already back in prison, Cutie.” Twilight glowered. “Now you listen to me, because you can say whatever you want, and claim whatever you want, and maybe I don’t understand why…or maybe I do understand why, because no matter what I or anypony else thinks of Trixie Lulamoon, she is still your mother…but I simply don’t believe a soul like yours is capable of what you claim to be responsible for. You still confessed to it, and I can’t ignore that, but…nopony deserves this fate. Not Pinkie Pie, not Fluttershy, not Derpy, not Doctor Hooves, and not you.” Twilight smiled softly, ‘resting’ her hoof on Quantum’s shoulder. “Now be quiet and accept my help. That’s an order from your princess.”

Quantum was silent for a time. Finally, she meeped out a small, “…yes ma’am.”

Twilight’s smile brightened. “Time to wake up your troops. They’re going to look to you for direction, and I know you can handle it. We’ll work out equipment and a plan. Everything’s going to be okay.”

* * * * *

Ninety minutes later, Quantum found herself back in the shattered streets of Ponyville; a heavy pack laden with adventuring supplies on her back. Her thoughts turned from the amusing lack of a fedora to worries that the book they were after might be a book of magic. Magic was…not Quantum’s forte, and she doubted either Derpy or Spike were any better at it. If it came down to magic, they’d have to rely on Twilight’s ability to impart years worth of practice and study into Quantum’s unpracticed horn before it was too late.

To Quantum’s left hovered Derpy. The pegasus had an overly determined look in her lazy eye. Her jaw was wrapped steadfastly around the mop she had been polishing he lab floors with, which she was now brandishing like a spear. To Quantum’s right, wearing a hoofball mitt, trotted Spike. He had a bucket on his head and a pillow strapped to his chest. Twilight had been quite correct – attempting to talk the brave little dragon out of today’s chore had proved less than futile. Seeing a little of what her mentor saw in him, Quantum favored Spike with a smile when he wasn’t looking.

“Doc…” Spike spoke up, his eyes darting around warily, “A-are you sure about this? I mean, Twilight has a lot of books. I mean a lot of books. Believe me, I know. How do you know this particular one is even there?”

“It’s there Spike,” Quantum reassured.

“But how can you be so sure?” Spike queried. “I mean have you ever been in Twilight’s personal library? She has books about the books that she has books about in there!”

Quantum only smiled. “Then I guess I’m gonna need you that much more.”

Pacified by the ego boost, Spike squared his jaw and added a spring to his step. The trio, followed by a fluttering hologram, moved on down the street until Derpy broke the silence with a cry.

“Land ho!”

“What?” Quantum turned sharply, half expecting to see an island over a sea of water in response to the ‘Derpyism’. Instead she found herself starting at a blasted structure that used to be a home.

“So?” Quantum shrugged. “It’s just another ruined house. The street is full of them. We’ve got other things to worry about right now.”

Derpy shook her head and pointed, deftly managing to speak through the spear-mop in her mouth. “That house moved.”

“Th-the house moved!?” Spike yelped and was instantly grappling with Quantum’s hind leg. “Wh-what makes a house move? Is it the disease? Are ponies mixing with furniture to create horrible dragon-eating, lava-breathing, twelve story tall ponyhouse monsters!?”

“Spike calm down!” Quantum and Twilight reproached in unison, both giving Spike the exact same glare, though only one of them could be seen or heard. Quantum continued, looking wary now herself. “It’s…probably nothing. Just your eyes playing tricks on you. We’re all on edge. Lets just move on.”

Derpy puffed out her cheeks. “But Doc! There could be something really cool in there! Something that might help us on our quest to save the day!” She had her hoof hooked around the mop and was waving it around; stabbing at the air with a glee that made Quantum wonder just how much of Derpy was Derpy, and how much of her was mind-altering disease.

“No.” Quantum ordered. “We don’t have time for wild horses to keep us away from our goal.”

Derpy and Spike, the latter now looking bolstered by the former’s rousing words, both looked crestfallen. Twilight was tapping on buttons, and she finally spoke.

“On the contrary, Cutie. I think you should go in there.”

“What?” Heedless of the onlookers, Quantum whirled on the princess, “Why?”

Twilight continued to poke at Hal’s device, somehow eliciting elegant tapping noises from it rather than the usual ostentatious beeps and boops. “Tissy says that if you don’t go in there, there’s a fourteen point eight two percent chance that the three of you will be ambushed on the way to the palace, and another seven point nine percent chance that at least one of the three of you will be killed in the fray.”

“Those aren’t very good chances,” Quantum huffed.

“No,” Twilight agreed, “But can you really afford to ignore an outcome like that, no matter how unlikely it is? Tissy also claims that if you do go in there, the likelihood that today’s adventure will succeed rises by thirty-five percent, irrespective of the other possible events.”

Quantum made a face, “But that building has nothing to do with--” She cut herself off when she noticed her flesh and blood companions, who were yet again staring at her for talking to thin air.

“I have an imaginary friend too!” Derpy sang and pointed at her empty shoulder. “His name’s Flamer! He’s a little baby dragon!”

“Oh yeah?” Spike’s attention immediately turned away from Quantum. “Hey, if he’s a baby dragon, I could totally teach him everything he needs to know.” Spike puffed out his chest, “Cause you know, I’m kinda the dragon expert around here.”

“Wait, Flamer?” Quantum sighed and let the two banter for a few seconds before breaking it up, “Alright fine, we’ll go in there. But be on your guard. We don’t know what to expect. Spike, you watch the rear.”

Spike let out a ‘whew’ and nodded eagerly.

“Derpy, you’re with me,” Quantum dictated, “But…stay at least a pony’s length away from me at all times, okay?”

The troupe acknowledged their orders and all began to make their way into the wreck of the once cozy looking cottage. The decor was a mockery of what it had once quite obviously been – overturned couches; flowerpots and their contents dumped all over the carpets; singed holes in the walls from the raging fire that apparently consumed at least parts of nearly every building in town. Quantum scrunched her muzzle as she detected the smell of rotting produce from somewhere in the kitchen. A shuffling noise coming from the sitting room quickly commanded everypony’s attention.

Quantum bravely held her foreleg out. “Stand back. I…” she cast a glance at Twilight, who smiled encouragingly, proud of her student leading from the front. “I…g-got this.”

As she neared the room, she noticed the shuffling noises were covering a faint twanging sound, as if somepony were shortening guitar strings to only a few inches in length and then picking at them. There was some soft giggling as well. Quantum immediately thought of Shypie, but the voice was not the same, and the room was infuriatingly dark. Throwing caution to the wind, she lit her horn and used the glow of magic she was not supposed to have to investigate.

There was a yelp and a crash. Quantum found herself on her rump faster than she could blink, and the single form in the room was ping-ponging off the walls like a scared rabbit in a locked hutch.

“W-wait!” Quantum cried out, waving her forelegs, “Calm down! I’m not gonna hurt you!”

Derpy paused in the doorway. Spike wasn’t able to get past her and could only watch from a distance. The bouncing form came to rest under an end table. It peered out from there, shrouded mostly in darkness, its eyes watching Quantum fearfully. The minty mare knelt down and held out her hoof.

“Hey…” she began, “I’m not gonna hurt you. Come out. We’re friends here.”

“Uhh, Doc,” Spike called, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You said any of them could be dangerous!”

Quantum only nodded. She knew what she said. But something seemed so non-threatening about this creature that she couldn’t help herself. She patted the ground before her and continued to call the form under the table like a puppy. Finally it moved into the light of the unicorn’s magic.

Twilight gasped.

The cautious pony that emerged from under the table was a mare. It had a swirling, unnaturally painted combination of colors much like Shypie’s on its coat. One was a shade of minty green that perfectly matched Quantum’s. The other was a very pale, almost grayish beige. The mare’s spiky mane and curly, flowing tail were a myriad of hot pink, moody blue, stark white, and powdery, grayish cyan. Her darting eyes wavered between blue and amber, and upon her flank was a cutie mark depicting a smattering of candies arranged haphazardly around a harp.

“Lyra Heartstrings…” Twilight whispered, aghast, “…and Bon Bon…”

Quantum tried smiling again, feeling sorry for thinking of this mare as a ‘creature’. She was just a pony…a strangely colored, scared looking pony. “Hi there,” she offered in the Doctor’s voice. “What’s your name?”

The mare said nothing. She simply looked around, squinting at each face. Her fear gradually gave way to curiosity. Something inside her seemed to recognize the ponies she was looking at, and the familiarity had a calming effect. Derpy offered a cheery grin and waved a hoof as though she were bidding a casual hello to an old friend.

Spike repeated the greeting. “Hiya! So are you like, Lyrabon or something? Or…oh hey, maybe you’re Bonstrings?” He scratched his chin, “…not that doesn’t sound right…maybe like Heartbon or…Heart…bond? Hey that actually sounds kinda cool. Heartbond!”

Twilight had a look on her face as though she were living the word Spike just made up. She tapped at the control device. “Tissy doesn’t think she can talk. There’s no telling what sort of side effects the end-stages of the disease will have. She might understand you...and she might not.”

Quantum felt like she was dealing with the stray cats she used to feed in the alleys around her modest Baltimare dwelling when she was a filly. She stood, encouraging the so-named ‘Heartbond’ to do the same. “Can you stand up for me?”

Heartbond did so. When Quantum smiled at her again, she panted and grinned, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Quantum held out an upturned hoof and slowly brought it to Heartbond’s chin. When the mare didn’t shy away, she began to scratch her there.

“Whew,” Quantum smiled as Spike opened the ragged drapes to bathe the room in sunlight. “I guess she’s not dangerous.”

Quantum took her attention off of Heartbond, surveying the room, until she realized her hoof wasn’t scratching anything anymore. The plinking noise returned. Swiveling her ears, she turned to find the new painted mare sitting on a stool picking at a large harp. The ragged harp was freestanding, but much of the frame was cracked or chipped, and all but three of the strings were cut. Heartbond was strumming repeatedly at the three remaining strings while pantomiming all the others.

“Rote versions of their key instincts,” Twilight explained without being asked, her voice subdued.

Derpy perched on the couch, Spike stood by, and for a time, the four of them sat in stillness, watching Heartbond play out a symphony in her own mind. The infected mare shut her eyes tightly, tousling her mane – putting her back into a performance that amounted to nothing more than muffled plucking. It went on that way until Heartbond rose from her seat, nabbed Derpy off the couch, and began spinning the mare in waltz-steps until Derpy lost her balance and went careening over a broken coffee-table. Heartbond continued to dance and spin, her eyes still closed..her forelegs wrapped around her own shoulders.

“Lyra and Bon Bon were…really close,” Twilight cleared her throat politely and looked away.

Quantum’s eyes went back and forth between the spinning mare and the ruined harp. Her eyes brightened so suddenly that it was like a light bulb going off over her head. “I...I can fix this!”

“Doc?” Spike queried. But Quantum was already inspecting the harp. Heartbond stopped moving. Suddenly looking agitated again, she stood frozen, staring at her beloved harp.

Quantum rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I’m sure I can…if I can just…” Unable to resist the prospect of tinkering, she began to play around with the strings, seeing what she might be able to do to reattach them.

“Cutie,” Twilight cautioned, “Do you know how to fix and tune a string instrument?”

“How hard can it be?” Quantum huffed. Tab A, slot B, and….voila!”

SNAP!

The brittle frame of the instrument, unable to take the strain, snapped like a dry twig. The top half of the harp clunked uselessly onto the thin carpeted floor.

“…hell.” Quantum muttered.

There was a whimper to her side, and Quantum turned to find Heartbond staring at the fallen harp as though she had just watched her best friend die. Quantum’s eyes widened.

“W-wait,” She tried to explain, “I didn’t mean…I can fix this!” She lifted up a piece of the frame and smiled, “Fix! …fix…?”

Quantum lost her grip, and the piece of frame balancing on her hoof thunked back to the floor. Heartbond jumped at the sound…and the look she gave Quantum made the minty mare’s heart sink.

It was a look of betrayal. Like the one Quantum’s mother nailed through her heart from a maximum security cell.

With an anguished, feral howl and a flash of movement, Heartbond made as if to leap at Quantum…but simply crashed through the window and galloped away until her curly tail was swallowed up by naked walls and debris.

Twilight tapped. “Well…the chances of ambush are down to zero point four five percent.” She paused, trying to keep an honest tone to her voice. “…good job, Cutie.”

Quantum felt empty. She staggered over some broken harp frame parts and stuck out her hoof for support. Feeling an odd sensation, she glanced over to the end table. Her hoof had come down upon a thick book. It was decorated with cheap lace and labeled ‘Diary’.

Quantum looked at Twilight.

The two read.

5.5 - Heartbond II

June 13, 2015

Ponyville

Saturday

Author’s note: This installment of Quantum Vault contains stronger imagery than readers may be used to from the story thus far. Reader discretion is advised.

The moment the door to the modest cottage slammed shut, Lyra hastily bucked the heavy sitting room couch back up against it. She never realized just what a wonderful deal they had gotten on such a well-made piece of furniture last year. The couch was a solid oak frame under soft upholstery, which made it durable, and, much to her chagrin when they had dragged it all the way to the front door, very heavy.

Lyra spoke without waiting to catch her own breath. “Did you get it?”

Bon Bon, bedecked in saddlebags and sporting a utility belt, sunglasses, and a grappling hook at her hip, was as much out of breath as her companion. She remained silent, trotting to the kitchen with Lyra in curious tow. There, she yanked a couple of burlap sacks from her bags and spilled their contents out onto the counter.

“Three tomatoes, two cucumbers, an apple, two quarts of water, and an open box of crackers,” Bon Bon took inventory aloud. “Oh, and half a loaf of bread. The other half had mold on it. I cut that part off. Beggars can’t be choosy.”

Lyra levitated a cucumber in the glow of her magic and squeezed it lightly. “This is overripe,” She complained.

“It’s edible!” Bon Bon, who was already disappearing into the sitting room, called out. “If we make sandwiches with it in the next day or two it’ll be fine.”

There was a shuffling sound, followed by an exhausted ker-plop. Lyra unmistakably recognized the sound as her companion shuffling off her gear and slumping straight onto the carpet, in lieu of the absent couch. She filled a glass with precious water from the household reserve and floated it along with her into the sitting room, where she sat down next to Bon Bon. The earth mare was lying on her side, her flank rising and falling with fatigue. Lyra smiled softly and offered the waiting glass.

“Drink.”

Bon Bon made a face, “We agreed not to fill any cups over halfway. We have to ration what we have left.”

Lyra’s expression was just as stubborn – she had learned a few things about dealing with earth pony stoicism in her years living with one. She waved the glass in Bon Bon’s face. “Then I’ll drink whatever you don’t. Rationing water won’t do us any good if we don’t ever drink any of it.”

Bon Bon hesitated, but finally gave in, allowing the magical glow from her friend to bring the glass to her lips. The contents were drained in less than four seconds. Lyra overturned the glass and shook it, a smug, victorious grin on her lips.

“See? You were thirsty. You need to drink when you’re thirsty.”

The special agent roughness on Bon Bon’s lips morphed into a sly, and somewhat weak, smile. “…what would I do without you?”

“I know what I’d do,” Lyra sighed, sitting back. “Starve to death.”

The two sat in silent observance of the macabre comment. When Ponyville had begun going crazy, and their friends had begun gradually succumbing to the madness, the pair did the only thing they could – they holed up in their home, trying to make the place look deserted. They boarded the windows and even purposefully destroyed their hanging window box flowerbeds, leaving the contents to wither and die in the sun. Bon Bon, with her skill as her alter ego ‘Special Agent Sweetie Drops’, was far stronger and more agile than even natural earth pony tenacity would suggest, making her the logical choice to foray into town whenever it was absolutely necessary. Lyra, wanting to feel useful, had taken it upon herself to see to every other affair of the house – food preparation and comforting her dear companion chief among these.

Filling the latter of her two duties, Lyra got up and moved over to her precious harp. Seating herself daintily on a stool and crossing her hind legs in a fashion that was so uniquely ‘her’, she began to strum idly at the strings, drawing her hooves over them to enchant the room with a melody worthy of being doused in fairydust.

Bon Bon let out a sigh and stretched out, looking every bit a beached whale in contrast to her village-spelunking self from moments ago. “Nopony does that better than you.”

Lyra, still strumming melodiously, grinned and wiggled her rump. “It’s what my cutie mark is telling me, after all.”

“No, I mean it—" Bon Bon sat up, her expression laden with honest praise. “I dunno what other ponies are into, but I swear, you make the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. If you took it on the road I bet you could call it ‘instrumental therapy’ and make a killing.”

Lyra slipped off her stool and slunk over to the other mare, coming up beside her quite closely. “You’d miss me then.” She caught Bon Bon’s waggling ear in her teeth and gave it a playful chew. The earth pony blushed.

“…y-you shouldn’t do that…”

“I’m tired of this,” Lyra whined, letting go of the ear and yanking on the rug with her magic such that Bon Bon, yelping, found herself flat on her back and prone. In an instant the unicorn was standing over her, grinning mischievously down. “I’m tired of this ‘don’t touch me’ junk. I’m hungry, scared, and lonely.” She blinked, “…I miss you and you’re right here next to me.”

Bon Bon huffed out a breath and folded her forelegs over her chest. “I-I’m not in the mood. That’s all.”

Lyra only giggled. “Yes you a-are—” She sang, lightly blowing on the tip of the earth mare’s muzzle. “All your crazy super spy skills and you let me literally pull the rug out from under you? Don’t lie. You stink at it.” Her smile softened. “At least around me you do.”

Bon Bon, blushing furiously, moved her forelegs and allowed Lyra to trace a hoof in circles around the fluffy softness of her chest…until the hoof abruptly stopped moving. The pleasant petting was replaced by a painful tugging sensation, as though Bon Bon’s entire weary body was a strip of flypaper, and Lyra was trying to escape.

Bon Bon frowned, watching Lyra trying in vain to remove her hoof from her companion’s body. Eventually the unicorn resorted to levitating over a small spade from Bon Bon’s pack. With a bunch of prying and a number of unpleasant grunts, the two ended up in a mutual sitting position, Lyra cradling her hoof.

“You know why we can’t touch,” Bon Bon explained. “So we don’t end up like…them.”

Silence returned to the sitting room, broken only by the muffled howls, cries, and caterwauling from ‘ponies’ outside.

“What’s…what’s going on?” Lyra repeated the question both of them had on their lips a thousand times already. Bon Bon couldn’t be upset with her for asking it again.

“I don’t know. But it’s not safe outside anymore. I might be able to get out of town by myself, but I don’t think we’d both make it, and even if we did…where would we go?” Bon Bon shook her head derisively. “We have to stay here. Until help arrives. If we just keep making it look as though nopony lives here, we won’t get noticed.”

Lyra was on her hooves. She paused before the obscuring drapes, wanting more than anything to part them and let some sunshine into the sitting room. “How do you know that?”

“…it’s worked so far. And I don’t have any better ideas.”

Lyra refused to turn around. “You should leave. You’re right. You could probably make it out of here. Go. Go and bring back help.”

There was a shuffling noise from somewhere behind the beleaguered unicorn. She ignored it until she felt a hoof resting on her shoulder. “W-wait, you’re not supposed to touch—”

Bon Bon smiled wanly and stroked her friend’s mane with an oven-mitted hoof. “Lyra…how could I do that?”

“Y-you just…” Lyra made mock galloping motions with her hooves. “You put one hoof in front of the other, and you just…do it.”

The oven mitt had moved to Lyra’s withers, and the unicorn sighed, the warmth of her companion’s smile never faltering.

“I won’t leave here without you. I’d rather be one of those things out there then not have you in my life.”

“B-but…” Lyra felt the mental alarm – the warning that her floodgates were starting to open. She sniffed sharply, battling against the urge to break down, but she was steadily losing ground. “…but I could never live with myself if…I…I love you…”

Bon Bon’s voice came in soft coos – far more harmonious than Lyra felt her music could ever hope to be. “I know. I love you too. We’re okay. We’re safe in here. And we’re going to make—”

The rest of the sentence was crushed under a chunk of debris that nearly took Lyra’s head off as it sailed by.

“The kitchen!” Bon Bon was on her hooves and in full defense mode in the turning of a second. Dashing into the kitchen with her partner on her heels, she found the remains of a wall, an obliterated sink and countertop, and precious produce scattered all over the floor.

And a single pony that had once been two.

For one paralyzing moment, there was nothing but the huffing of breath and blank stares both from within the house and without. The creature that had apparently destroyed the wall just by ramming into it was hugely over-muscled. A broad, powerful stallion, its white coat was mottled with patches of fire engine red, and it bore a cutie mark in the shape of a dumbbell overlaying an open-faced, bright green apple. The beast had two tails, five legs, and its head looked as though some cruel artist had grabbed two unfired clay sculptures of ponies and mashed them together. Each eye had a different expression and color, except for the third one in the middle, that was in the shape of an hourglass and bore two separate pupils. The creature threw back its ‘head’ and let out a guttural bellow through yellowing teeth.

“EEEEEEYEEAHHHHHHH!”

Lyra cowered behind her companion, quickly losing herself to uncontrollable quivering. “…what…what is that…?”

Bon Bon, her eyes narrowed, managed to dodge her companion’s subconscious need to lay a hoof on her shoulder for support. She stepped in front of Lyra, pulled a pair of shades from somewhere in her mane, and sat them on her muzzle. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it’s in our home, and it has to leave.” Steeling herself with a breath, she stomped her hoof and scraped it against the floor in challenge against the creature that dwarfed her at least three times in height. “Hey! Hey you!”

The monstrosity, its expression constantly shifting between anger, pain, and general insanity, turned to focus on the tiny pony who had called it out.

“You heard me!” Bon Bon cried. She whipped out a wallet (again from some inexplicable location inside her mane), flipped it at the creature, and stuffed it away. “My name is Sweetie Drops, special agent of S.M.I.L.E! And I’m giving you till the count of three to turn your bulky biceps and that green macintosh on your rump around and get outta here, or…or else!”

“EEEEEEYEAHHHHHH!” The creature howled once again. It then hefted the entire kitchen sink, balancing it on one hoof. Both mares ducked and braced themselves for the item to be hurled in their direction, but no such attack came. When they looked up, the monster stallion was…pumping the sink and grinning, as one might do with a dumbbell.

At a loss, the mares stared at one another. Lyra only shrugged, but Bon Bon, taking the initiative, smiled cautiously and stepped further into the kitchen, keeping her eyes on the beast that was exercising with part of their kitchen.

“…clean up the food and take it into the sitting room…” Bon Bon ordered Lyra softly. She then brightened, raising her voice as the unicorn behind her scrambled to comply. “Aww, I get it! You just wanted something to play with, right? Tooootally understand. I mean, I like to work out too, you know?” She took up a pair of empty milk bottles in her hoofs and began pressing both of them over her head in time with the pumps of the kitchen sink. “See?”

Lyra gathered as much of the useful produce up in her magic as she could and levitated it safely out of the room. All the while she had the curious spectacle playing out in the corner of her eye. It was quite possibly the most bizarre thing she had ever seen outside of a dream. A tiny mare with cool shades on was doing lifts with empty milk bottles resting on the flats of both her front hooves; perfectly in time with the sink-bench presses of the five-legged, three-eyed, multicolored, manticore-sized thing with tiny little pegasus wings and the torn remnants of a yoke around its neck. All ‘three’ of them were enthusiastically smiling at one another.

“Right, so…” Bon Bon glanced back at Lyra to ensure that she had finished collecting the valuable commodities. “You found your wonderful thing to play with so…” She then tossed both the milk bottles out the hole in the wall and into the street. “Here! Fetch!”

The monster brightened, its three ears perking, and turned to follow the bath of the discarded bottles. Bon Bon turned away and back to Lyra, brushing her hooves together as with a job well done.

“There,” Bon Bon smiled, “No problem! We don’t need the sink without running water anyway. We’ll just patch up this wall, and everything will go back to nor—“

“EEEEEEEYEEEEEAHHHHHHH!”

Lyra watched in horror as the household’s kitchen sink, discarded over the shoulder of the retreating behemoth, crashed into the back of Bon Bon’s skull. The earth mare’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she crumpled on the spot, the sound of the monster’s gleeful cry mingling with the anguished scream of her mate.

Lyra was by Bon Bon’s side instantly. She turned Bon Bon over and cradled her head in her lap, the sensation of warm blood pooling around her knees as she fumbled with a water bottle, spilling most of it while attempting to levitate it to her friend’s lips.

“B-Bon Bon…!” Lyra’s eyes were already crowded with tears. “…s-speak to me!”

Bon Bon fluttered her eyelids and tried in vain to bring the room into focus. With a soft smile, she reached up and just barely brushed the unicorn’s cheek. “….you’re not…s-supposed to touch m-me...” she croaked.

“I don’t care!!” Lyra shouted, wetting Bon Bon’s lips with some of the precious liquid. “I…I don’t care what happens…I-I can’t…go on without you…”

“R-relax,” Bon Bon tried to take some of the liquid but ended up coughing it out. “I-I’m fine. It…it d-doesn’t even h-hurt…”

The earth mare trailed off. Her eyes were still open, but her body was as slack as a bag of rice. Lyra tried to get her attention, but the fallen secret agent just stared off into space, her chest patiently rising and falling.

Lyra glanced outside through the hole in the wall, unable to hear her own cries. Outside, an unchecked fire had spread to three buildings. Two colts, joined into a single hip and hind leg, were collapsed on the ground, trying in vain to kick their way apart. An old nag lying next to a walker on its side wasn’t moving. Laughter from somewhere in the distance sounded otherworldly. The monster who had destroyed Lyra’s home and broken her lover was already finished with the milk bottles, and was now attempting to rip wheels off a produce cart in hopes of finding another challenge.

Nothing outside reminded her of Ponyville anymore.

Lyra did the only thing she could do.

She shut her eyes and wrapped her forelegs around Bon Bon, throwing herself into a hug with the mare she had been desperate to touch for weeks.

“S-stop…” Bon Bon whined, pushing ineffectually at her partner with the only foreleg she could still lift, “…d-don’t…”

Lyra held on until she could feel the rooting stickiness in her coat. “…s-shh…” She cooed, “J-just…shh…you’re gonna be fine now…”

Much to their wishes, the two ponies were never apart again.

5.6 - Books into the Breach

July 15, 2015

Ponyville -- Palace of Friendship

Wednesday Afternoon

Quantum felt a lightness in her saddle bags. For reasons she couldn’t quite place, she had wanted to take the small, lacy journal with her, but Twilight had convinced her to let sleeping ponies lie.

It was for the best.

Now, the quartet of would-be adventurers stood under the looming shadow of the Palace of Friendship as it looked, from two of their perspectives, a quarter-century ago. Quantum felt that it didn’t look all that different from photographs in her own time, if you didn’t count the broken windows and the ominous snapping of torn, singed banners in the breeze.

“Aaaanyway,” Spike, still bedecked in his bucket helmet, pillow armor, and hoofball mitt, spoke up, “Maybe we should rethink this. I mean there’s books at the lab. A-and the bookstore! Did you know we have a bookstore in town?”

“The bookstore burned to the ground...” Derpy, hovering nearby with her spear-mop pinched between her hooves, muttered sadly.

“You’re not help-ing!” Spike declared. “I mean there’s gotta be books all over town, right Doc? We should search the town first! And the hills! There might be books all over the countryside! Did you ever think of that?”

Twilight was trying to vain to nose Spike encouragingly, but her muzzle kept passing right through his shoulder. Quantum sighed.

“I told you both that you could have stayed at the lab.”

Derpy furrowed her brow, smiled that lopsided smile of hers, and saluted. Spike scratched the back of his neck, thought about it, and finally shook his head.

“...I couldn’t do that.”

Quantum and her holographic mentor smiled the exact same smile. Quantum stuck her minty hoof out.

“All for one?”

Spike wisely laid his claw atop the offered hoof before Derpy could slam hers down upon it. Twilight, hooking her lip up in a grin, phased her foreleg through the joining.

“And one for all,” Spike smirked. “Let’s do this thing.”

Five minutes later the troupe was making its way through one of the many empty, echoing corridors Twilight’s home was famous for. Sunlight bled in from shattered stained glass windows wherever they went, bathing the interior of the palace in multicolored light.

“The library is just around the corner,” Spike commented, Twilight shook her head, tapping furiously at Hal’s device.

“I’m not detecting any ponies around, Cutie, but don’t trust in that. And the book you’re looking for is probably in the second library.”

“Second library?” Quantum scrunched her muzzle.

“What about it?” Spike asked.

“The book,” Quantum quickly continued, “It’s in the second library.”

Spike stared. “How do you know?”

“I just...have this feeling,” The minty mare smiled, “Trust me on this.”

The questionably armored dragon hesitated. “Ooookay Doc, whatever you say. But the second library is where Twilight keeps all the books we hadn’t gotten around to sorting yet. It’s in the basement.”

“The basement?” Quantum shot her mentor a look. “Seriously?”

Twilight’s shrug and her hay-eating grin deepened.

“That’s what I said, yeesh,” Spike huffed, turning down a hallway in the opposite direction of the library proper.

Quantum descended the stairs behind Spike, who had conveniently lit his own torch, into a scene straight out of Frankenstein. With Derpy hovering in the air, the clopping of Quantum’s hooves echoed off of every stone surface, and the narrow stairs that were in desperate need of a banister plunged into the membrane of blackness such that she had no idea just what she was descending into.

“This looks like a dungeon,” Quantum scoffed.

“Oh,” Spike smiled obliviously as he led the way, “That’s because it is.”

“And...why exactly is there a dungeon in the Palace of Friendship?”

Spike didn’t bother to favor the conversation with a backwards glance. “A palace is a castle. Castles have dungeons. It’s like a rule. We also have forty-seven bathrooms, a room where we store all the armor that popped up with this place even though we have no guards to wear it, and everypony calls our cupboard a larder. Oh, and flying buttresses.”

Quantum raised a dubious brow at her two companions, who were giggling like schoolfilles over the phrase ‘flying buttresses’. She rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Anyway,” Spike scoffed, “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’ve been down here a million times. There’s nothing down here but old books.”

“And clouds!” Derpy cried cheerfully.

“What?” Spike lifted a brow. “Derpy...we’re in the basement of Twilight’s palace. Twilight doesn’t keep clouds in her basement.”

“Clouds!” Derpy repeated, pointing with her spear-mop. Sure enough, the ceiling that had climbed above them as a result of their steady descent was coated in a measure of dreary gray storm clouds, so close to the color of the stone itself that they’d scarcely have been noticed except to the trained eye of a pegasus.

Spike raised his torch up as far as he could and scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t put clouds down here. You think there’s a hole somewhere and they leaked in?”

Quantum was about to dismiss that comment as ridiculous, when Twilight, who had been silently following the group on account of her hooves making no sound against the stairs, spoke up.

“Cutie, Spike’s right. I don’t store rain clouds in the second library. Something’s wrong. Be careful.”

“Twilight...doesn’t store clouds down here.” Quantum repeated warily, scanning the sky through her interphased corrective lenses.

“Huh?” Spike replied, “How do you know? Well, granted, all we usually have down here are...” he trailed off when he passed the torch’s light out into the room. “...books.”

The entire chamber was a veritable ocean of haphazardly discarded books, such that a pony would have to wade through them to the shoulder just to move around.

“...woah,” Spike blinked.

“Hey! I bet there’s a book here about everything!” Derpy spun gleefully through the air and playfully dove at the book-sea. “I need a good rock muffin cookbook!”

Quantum touched her hoof to her forehead and sighed. “Derpy there are no books about rock--just forget it, can you fly up there and check out those clouds?”

“Roger dodger!” Derpy saluted.

Spike was testing the ‘shore’ by kicking at some of the books there. Quantum used the distractions to turn back to Twilight.

“How are we supposed to find one single book in all this mess?”

Twilight only smiled. She pointed wordlessly at Spike’s back.

“Him? Look I know he’s your assistant and you think the world of him, and he’s really a nice guy and all, but--”

Twilight held up a hoof the way she used to when guest lecturing. Quantum had long since trained herself to shut her mouth in response to the gesture. “You don’t know Spike like I do. He can smell words like a bloodhound. In the fourteen-thousand, nine hundred and seventy four times I asked him to find a book for me, he had a ninety-four point one percent success rate.”

Quantum looked exasperated, “You counted them all?”

“Of course!” Twilight grinned, levitating the control device like a notepad, “Keeping good records is one of the most important things a pony can do! Other than eating and sleeping, that is.”

“Now I know why they say what they say about you...” Quantum trailed off and turned to Spike, who was still testing the ‘water’ with his foot. “Hey Spike, you think you can narrow down our quarry a bit?”

Spike blanched. “Uhh...seriously? I don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

Quantum looked at Twilight. Prompted for details, the princess began tapping on the device. “It’s a thin, yellow bound book measuring approximately nine by twelve inches, with somewhere around two hundred and sixty pages.”

Quantum relayed the details. Spike curled his lip and folded his arms. “What’s the title?”

Twilight shrugged, and Quantum resisted the urge to ask the princess how she could possibly have all that information and not know the title of the book. Thankfully, Spike only grinned and waved his claw dismissively.

“Aw, don’t worry about it. Twilight used to give me scatterbrained challenges like that all the time. Wow Doc, it’s like you can channel her or something.”

“I-I am not scatterbrained!” Twilight complained. Spike naturally ignored the outburst and scanned the horizon until he brightened and pointed at the far wall.

“There!”

Hundreds of yards away, on the other side of the book-sea, was a small platform with a single, narrow bookshelf still filled with books. The area around it was glowing slightly with a faint raspberry luminescence that reminded Quantum of...Twilight.

“You’re sure?” The minty mare squinted, trying in vain to make out a yellow spine amidst all the others.

“Yep!” Spike puffed out his chest, “I’m the Chief Assistant to the Princess of Friendship! Count on me!”

Twilight smiled softly, mouthing the phrase ‘oh Spike’, while Quantum lifted her head and whistled.

“Derpy! We need a lift!”

Derpy’s lopsided grin popped up from behind a storm cloud that blended so perfectly with her coat that she looked like a merrily floating parade balloon. She saluted again, mop in her teeth, and swooped down to the base of the stairs. Spike hopped on her back. Quantum hesitated.

“Uhh...hmm...”

The three of them exchanged defeated glances until Derpy’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape. Dropping the mop into her hoof, she curled her foreleg around it and offered the head end to Quantum.

“...you’re joking.” Quantum huffed.

Seconds later, Quantum found that the bubbly gray pegasus was indeed not joking. Dangling from the end of the mop and bracing her pinching hooves, she cast her gaze on the book-sea below as though she could actually drown in it. Derpy was holding the other end in her mouth again. Apparently she had strong teeth. Rock muffins indeed.

As they flew, Quantum surveyed the rest of the area. There were a few other platforms peeking out from under the ‘waves’ like islands, but aside from their goal, only one other bore anything of note. Some distance away, the other platform bore three suits of the guard armor Spike had mentioned before. Quantum thought they would indeed make regal garb for a cadre of knights, bedecked as they were in satin baldrics, fine plumage, and colorful livery emblazoned with Twilight’s cutie mark. It seemed a shame that they would likely end up disassembled and tossed in a room on some future date. Quantum almost pointed at the platform containing the bookshelf before she remembered she was holding onto the end of a mop for dear life. Instead she merely nodded.

“Set us down here.”

The minty unicorn-turned stallion scientist grinned confidently. She had gotten herself so worried over nothing. This was going to be easy.

The sharp cry from above told her better.

In an instant, Quantum found herself plummeting into the sea of books, coming down on their spines with a hard smack. She yelped and flailed, the shifting ‘currents’ immediately burying her up to her neck for her trouble. Frantically attempting to take stock of the situation, she first found Spike. The little dragon was dazed and rubbing his rump, but he was otherwise seated safely on the platform. His torch, still burning, lay a few hooves away.

Quantum gasped and ducked, nearly bowled over by the sudden shock of colors that whizzed by her head. The zooming shape pulled up from a perfect nose-dive and doubled back in the air. Sticking out its hind legs, it bucked Derpy like a cloud and sent her sprawling. To her credit, the ditsy gray pegasus recovered quickly and deflected the next assault with her spear-mop, capturing both herself and her assailant in mid-air as they fought for the makeshift weapon.

“That...” Twilight was hovering nearby and staring, dumbfounded, “...Rainbow Dash...?”

Quantum stared. The pony locked in combat with Derpy was not sticking to her. Its coat swirled with cyan blue and streaks of gleaming white, while its eyes flashed violently back and forth from magenta to cornflower blue. Its mane, stylishly curled and clashing badly with its freeflowing tail, was every color of the spectrum, and upon its flank it bore a mark of a rainbow lightning bolt piercing a large, elegant diamond crystal.

“A-and...Rarity...!?” Twilight gaped and began furiously tapping at her device. She needed no confirmation of what she was seeing - she just wanted an excuse not to look at it.

Quantum was dumbstruck at the spectacle above. “Is she--are they why all these clouds are down here? Why would they do that, though?”

Twilight flattened her ears and couldn’t watch. “The clouds are out of habit. The place is out of...loyalty. That’s why they’re here.” She bit her lip, “Quantum, get that book. M-make this end...”

Coming back to herself, Quantum turned and began to plow, peddle, kick, balance, and swim her way through the deep coating of books that had filled the entire chamber to at least twice the depth of the tallest draft ponies. She could see Spike staring upwards, looking mortified. He mouthed the word ‘Rarity’. Then he pointed and cried out.

“It’s Raridash! Look out!”

Aptly named, Raridash ended the short midair confrontation by bucking Derpy silly again. She then did a graceful, high speed loop up to the clouds, landed on them, and began stomping atop them viciously as if calling for a thunderstorm.

“Generosity!!” She cackled in an elegant, psychotic voice.

Expecting to find herself suddenly soaked, Quantum was instead drenched in...more books, that fell from the clouds in a torrential downpour. She was cracked in the forehead by at least two collections of ancient Equestrian literature and one dictionary before she had the wherewithal to cover her head and let her forelegs take the brunt of the assault.

“Not good!” Twilight shouted over the clatter of hundreds of falling tomes. With books falling right through her by the score, she tapped away, staring at her display. “If you trot out of here without that book, the percentage of failure shoots so high that this reality, and possibly ours, is doomed! And Tissy says for every five minutes you spend here, the one point eight percent chance that a falling book heavy enough to break your neck will hit you increases by eleven percent!”

Quantum turned to look at Spike, who was still staring at Raridash as if she’d just ripped his poor little heart out of his chest and stomped on it. “Spike! The book!!”

“B-book...right...” Spike muttered the words but showed little recognition. Quantum could practically see the little heart bubbles evaporating from his scales.

Twilight groaned. “Rarity has always been Spike’s Achilles’ fetlock, so seeing her like this...” She turned, “Quantum, just levitate the book over. We don’t have time for this! It’s right there!”

Quantum squinted, and sure enough, there was one yellow book on the third shelf from the bottom. She sighed. “...I can’t...”

“Nopony’s going to see you Cutie! And it doesn’t matter anyway, this is more important!”

“I CAN’T!” Quantum practically screamed. Twilight, taken aback by the outburst, waned under it. “My mother, and now you! It’s too far away! Why don’t any of you understand that I’m not a damned wizard!? I can learn the spells but I can’t make the magic, okay!? So I have to throw wrenches around instead! Can’t that be good enough!?”

Twilight saw a hurtful rage in her student that, for a brief second, shed some light on Quantum’s final visit with her mother and the rash actions that started her tumbling through time. The princess’s expression softened, and she took the tone she’d sometimes taken with a frustrated Spike - the closest she’d ever come to a child of her own.

“Cutie, the things you can do throwing wrenches around is a magic all its own. Don’t let me or anypony else ever tell you that you’re not a wizard. Wizards are two bits for a dozen in Equestria. You’re something special.”

Quantum shut her eyes and took a calming breath. There was a cog that needed to be extracted from the machine, and nothing - no sounds, no bumps, no bruises, and no hurt feelings, were going to keep her from fixing it. Forcing it all down, she plastered a grin on her face, winked, and started for the shore.

“You can do it...” Twilight smiled to herself.

Quantum slapped her hooves on the stone platform just as a book the size and weight of a phone directory ricocheted off of the hard surface and went careening off into the sea. Spike, forcing himself away from his own feelings, left the aerial combat to the muffin mare and marched over to the bookshelf.

“Aw, this is easy,” he blew out a breath, reaching to touch the spine of the yellow book. “We’ll be out of here in two shakes of a pony’s t--”

Yanked off his feet by a sudden magical glow that enveloped his whole body, Spike was pulled up to the top of the bookshelf and slammed in the stomach so fast and hard by a pair of bucking hooves that Quantum barely saw him fly in a flailing arc into the book-sea.

“Spike!!” The two mares shouted together, watching him disappear into the darkness. Quantum immediately made as if to dive back into the ‘waves’, but Twilight held out a hoof.

“I’ll check on him. You get that book.”

Twilight fled too quickly for Quantum to get a word in edgewise. She wondered why her teacher would be so quick to make her escape, until four leaping hooves made a slamming crack on the platform behind her. Turning, she barely had time to duck before an ensorcelled lance that clearly had come off a suit of guard armor made a pincushion out of her head.

“Maaaaaaaagic--” A voice rumbled.

Quantum understood. Poor Twilight’s nerves could only take so much.

The mare standing before her had everything. Mottled orange and purple wings like a pegasus, a unicorn horn that flashed with the potential to fell ursas, and a lifetime of raw earth pony power in its bucking hooves. Atop its head was the familiar cowfilly hat Quantum herself had worn in Ponyville not so long ago; a jeweled crown resting on its brim. Eyes that wavered between miasmic purple and the emerald of Oz bore down on her, and a cutie mark of a starburst exploding into tiny apples seemed to cackle at her with the movement of her adversary’s flanks. Quantum backed away.

“Apple...Sparkle...?” She ventured, trying in vain to establish a dialogue with any rational thought that might still lie within this diseased mockery of her teacher. “...Twijack, maybe?”

‘Twijack’ was pawing at the ground with one hoof, her hackles up and ready to charge. The constant cackling noises she was emitting sounded to Quantum like a perverted chorus of rodeo clowns, and her snorting breaths were visible even in the low glowing of the platform. Instinctively Quantum levitated a random book from the sea and held it protectively in front of her face, but the color of the glow around it changed as Twijack sent it spinning away with ease.

“Books...” the creature muttered. “...booksbooksbooks!”

Backed to the edge of the platform, Quantum turned to find a tide of hundreds of books heading straight for her like a wave breaking over the surf. She was engulfed and forced into a low crouch, her forelegs over her head as the heavy books smacked into her back and sides. Through the pain of the assault, she wondered if this version of her mentor even knew what books were anymore, beyond her overpowering desire to possess them. Further, Quantum wondered how much time had passed, and how long it would be before she would have her neck broken by an encyclopedia. Fumbling and kicking, she managed to break her way out of the cocoon.

“Listen...” Quantum began to circle, trying to get around the amalgamation of all three tribes that stood in her way. “I don’t want any trouble...I just...need to get a book...”

“Books!” Twijack snarled, “Yeeeehaww!!”

Charging, Twijack spun on her heels and snapped her knees, delivering a wicked buck that Quantum had to throw herself to the floor to avoid. Aimed high, it likely would have broken her spine like a twig had it connected. The minty mare scrambled to her hooves, panting with the effort and her general sense of terror.

Alone and desperate for ideas, Quantum captured the flap of her interphased leg pouch with the glow of her magic, ripped the ancient computer pad she was still carrying free, activated it, and held it in front of her attacker, praying that Twilight’s natural curiosity would buy her some time.

The earth-alicorn squinted at the curious flashing thing before it, her jaw slack but her eyes fixated as though in deep thought. Not waiting for Twijack to paw at the thing, Quantum sprinted to the bookshelf, grabbed the yellow tome, and stuffed it in her saddlebag just as the computer pad, flung back by stronger magic, smacked her in the side of the head.

Dazed, Quantum slumped to her knees against the bookshelf. She had the strange computer, and she had the fabled remedy book.

But she was about to lose a lot more.

Twijack stared down the scrawny unicorn. Then she noticed the single hole in her bookshelf. Enraged, she emitted a feral howl and summoned two lassos seemingly from nowhere. One wrapped around Quantum’s legs, held only by the force of the sorcery. The other, un-knotted and also held by magic alone, stretched like a noose around her neck. Hogtied and hanged, the rope about Quantum’s neck began stretching her off the ground just as she noticed the holographic Twilight emerging from the sea.

In desperation, Twilight was trying everything from ineffectually levitating books she could not touch to simply swatting at her other self. “I can’t...ugh!” She drew up close to the mad expression on her own face, pleading with it, “Twilight...me...Applejack...think...you’ve got to think! Don’t do this! This isn’t who we are!”

For a moment, Twilight thought she might be getting through. Even if she wasn’t actually in this spacetime continuum, she saw a faint glimmer in her own eyes that suggested somewhere in there was a vestige of herself, or of Applejack, who wouldn’t let this come to pass. But Twijack’s expression twisted to the point of dementia, and Quantum’s hind hooves began to only scrape at the platform beneath her.

“Cutie I...” Twilight sputtered, watching Quantum gag and bat helplessly at the rope, “I’m so sorry, I...I should never have let it come to this...you and Trixie, I...should have done more, should have said more...”

Quantum felt the straining agony of trying to breathe through a gradually closing windpipe. She felt a strange sense of peace looking into the heart of her sovereign, her mentor, and her friend. “...s-ok...” she managed, “...my f-faul...”

Twilight wracked her brain. Thought of ways to thwart a maniacal version of her own mind.

Then it hit her.

“Cutie!” The princess cried, “Grab a book, any book!”

With no time to question, Quantum wrapped the unsteady glow of her magic around the closest book and held it aloft. Twilight nodded at Spike’s torch, which was still flickering with a greenish-hued flame.

“BURN IT!”

Quantum had just enough seconds of life left to contemplate what the princess was getting at. She nabbed the torch, brought it right into Twijack’s field of view, and touched it to the dry, aged, brittle paper of the floating book. The tome was engulfed and went up in seconds.

Quantum collapsed to the floor, panting and pumping her lungs, the ropes all but forgotten as Twijack desperately stamped out the fire. She bent, cradling the scorched, now unidentifiable cover. Twilight watched a tear trace its way down her twisted doppleganger’s orange cheek. On some level, she understood the emotional response. It made her wonder what was lurking at the most rudimentary base of her own personality.

Twijack didn’t grieve long. Fire burning in her emerald-purple eyes, her soulless grimace put Twilight on instant high alert. Quantum was still gasping for breath.

“Cutie!” She shouted again, “Hold a book hostage!”

“Hold a...what?” Quantum scrunched her muzzle at the bizarre order, but when she saw the Apple-half of her opponent bearing down on her, she whipped another book off the shelf and held it before her like a talisman - this time with the torch flickering hungrily only inches away.

“Back!” Quantum shouted with all the gusto of a vampire hunter, “Back! Or I’ll burn it!”

As if impacting upon an invisible wall, Twijack froze, her vengeful stare simmering into the calculated gaze of a timberwolf looking for a weakness in its prey’s guard. Quantum saw a magical glow begin to wink into life around the book. In response she brought the torch so close that the edge of the book’s spine began to singe.

“Let go!” She ordered. “Let go, let us leave, and nopony...no book gets hurt!”

Twijack backed away. With a clattering of hooves Derpy suddenly landed on the platform. The mop in her teeth was splintered into a sharp point, her mane was a mess, and she had a number of small gashes in her coat, but she was standing tall and saluting with the pride of a Wonderbolt. Spike was lounging, dazed, on her back. He was holding his stomach and looked about to throw up, but seemed none the worse for wear. The pointed end of the mop was covered in red.

Quantum stared at the mop tip, then at her companions. “You didn’t...she didn’t...I mean these creatures are still our friends...”

Spike jerked his thumb towards the far platform with the stylish suits of armor. “Nah, it’s just red ink. You’d be surprised how that stuff never dries.”

Quantum glanced at the far platform. The glorious costumes of the suits of armor had been purposefully thrown into disarray - mismatched colors, baldrics on their heads, feathers stuffed into their helmets, spine-up books laying all over them, and blotches of red ink tarnishing their armor. RariDash, gasping in horror, was flitting around the platform like a hummingbird. She was apparently at war with both her personalities as to how the intolerable fashion disaster should best be solved.

“Wow,” Quantum gaped, “Quick thinking. Points for Derpy.”

Derpy beamed under the praise from her Doctor. Spike cut in, his bucket missing; the pillow around his chest possibly what saved him from being crippled by the blow he took.

“Hate to break the teary moment up,” He cringed, pointing at the snorting Twijack who seemed about to succumb to Apple family stubbornness and attack anyway. “But unless you’ve got some apple trees we can burn too, let’s get outta here!!”

Derpy held out the head end of the mop. This time Quantum took it without hesitation.

Halfway up the stairs Derpy’s wings succumbed to fatigue, leaving the party to hoof it the rest of the way with an enraged apple princess hot on their tails. When her companions were safely in the hallway, Quantum stood on the landing and held out the book, still with the torch licking at it.

“Baaaack...” she urged, “...back and I’ll give this back to you...”

Twijack backed away again. Quantum stepped through the doorway backwards, nodding as she passed Spike. “One...two...three!”

As one, Quantum tossed the book right at Twijack while Spike slammed the door tightly. The group fled back to the main entrance, puffing as they ran.

“I don’t hear anything!” Quantum yelled, “She could have bucked that door off its hinges by now easily!”

“She won’t,” The hovering, holographic Twilight sighed. “The books are...special to her. She’ll see to them first.”

Quantum hesitated, and then finally bowed her head. “...I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

“Don’t worry!” Twilight brightened, “We’ll save the day yet!” The princess puffed up with confidence...and then gaped at the main entrance. Once firmly shut and in need of crashing through to make a quick escape, she noticed the hinges had failed, and one of the two massive gates was wide open. “Cutie...Quantum! Slow down!”

Her attention distracted, Quantum ran until there was nowhere else to go but down. Crashing down the palace stairs, both the yellow book and Spike went flying and ended up in a heap on the dirt path outside.

Spike sat up, rubbing his head. “Ugh...some pony get me the number of that horse...” He looked around...and his eyes came upon the yellow book, now lying open. He stood. Bent over. Examined it.

“...what language is this?”

Twilight tapped buttons furiously and scanned the book with her device, answering the dragon without being heard. “I...have no idea. And neither does Tissy. Cutie--”

Twilight’s words died in her throat. At the bottom of the stairs was a heap of hopelessly tangled mint and gray. Both Derpy and the good masquerading doctor were pushing and kicking at each other...but they weren’t getting any further away. Spike swallowed.

“...oh boy...”

5.7 - Explosive Admissions

July 16, 2015

Ponyville – Dr. Hooves Laboratory

Thursday

Quantum couldn’t get up.

The weight she carried on her back would have been tolerable for most to bear, but she had always been a scrawny excuse for a pony, and her legs were hardly apple-bucking material. In her own defense, she reasoned that the constant burden of once again her own weight on her back would have been difficult for even a healthy, fit pony to tolerate every single minute of the day.

And Quantum was anything but healthy.

She was lying splattered on the floor of her host’s laboratory; a spilled scoop of mint-flavored ice cream slowly liquefying under the rays of the June heat filtering through a window. Her ears picked up the satisfying crackle of old Tesla coils, but they brought her no more joy than did the open yellow book lying in front of her.

She scanned the room. Spike was sitting on the edge of a table, swinging his legs and staring at them as if he’d only just found out they existed. Hal, who had taken over for Princess Twilight when the group was safely back ‘home’, was hovering absently on his wings and picking at his device – clearly just desperate for something to stare at. Quantum had always wondered how pegasi could just hover like hummingbirds all day long, but only lose stamina when they were sick, injured, or actually exerting themselves. Flying was apparently as much second nature to a pegasus as a sparkly horn was for her own kind.

Derpy was where she had been since yesterday, and where she was likely to stay. Her soft gray belly was fused to Quantum’s back, as though the two of them had been born that way. Their coat colors had begun to swirl and mingle into one another, bound like the dance of oil and water – disease greeting disease as it all mingled through their joined bloodstreams. Quantum shuddered at the idea of some desperate surgeons somewhere trying to force the infection into remission by cutting the fused body parts away from one another. She was already beginning to feel parts of Derpy’s body – the fluttering of her wings, or the little dabble of pain when the ditsy pegasus pricked her hoof with a splinter from the beloved mop she still cradled in her mouth. If the joining connected them so deeply, so quickly…surgical separation was just plain insanity.

Hal looked up when he noticed his friend and fellow student wriggling under the weight of the wall-eyed Derpy. “You shouldn’t…move too much,” he offered, looking away out of politeness. “It’s still a disease. Physical exertion will probably just make it spread faster.”

“I had an itch,” Quantum complained.

Hal glanced at the zoned-out Spike. “Ask him. He has claws.”

“It’s in the center of my back,” the minty-gray mare added, her voice slightly muffled by her chin’s proximity to the floor. “You know what’s worse than an itch you can’t scratch?” Quantum didn’t wait for an answer, “One that you know is impossible to scratch. There’s a whole psychological difference. I don’t think I’m ever going to let an itch I can’t scratch bother me again, as long as I know I can scratch it eventually.”

Hal bowed his head a little and kept his eyes averted. “…does it hurt?”

“Like funny bone pain mixed with throbbing from a week-old broken leg,” Quantum replied. “It’s not fun, but I’ll live.”

Hal adjusted his fuchsia argyle turtleneck as though he could feel the heat of the day around his collar. “…Tissy says it’s going to get worse. And the two of you ran into each other so forcefully you’ve probably sped up the process a hundred times or more.”

“How long?” Quantum asked with a gruff air.

“Dunno,” Hal sighed. “But so far not a single pony we’ve met…not even Princess Twilight, was able to keep the pain from driving her mad.” He shut his eyes and shivered, as if the phantom holographic heat had been replaced by bitter cold. “You go crazy, turn into one of those things…and that’s it. Then we find out if whatever happens here will completely unravel society in our own reality.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Quantum sought to change the grisly subject. “History doesn’t record an epidemic like this striking Ponyville twenty-four years ago, right? And obviously Shypie, Raridash, and Twijack can’t possibly have existed in our reality. So why is Tissy so convinced that failure here could be the end of Equestria as we know it?”

Hal grinned and folded his forelegs, almost leaning against the wall before remembering he’d just fall outside. “You’re forgetting the elementary temporal theory that the Accelerator Project was based on, Cutie. The Quantum Vault was never meant to be used the way you used it; just leaping into it without considering and finely tuning the variables of space and time. Here-”

Hal began rummaging through an invisible opening Quantum assumed was a bag of some sort that was firmly rooted to his point in spacetime. “I get it Hal, I don’t need a lesson in—”

“Like this banana,” Hal produced the fruit and continued his lecture. “Well…okay there are better analogies but this is what I have to work with. Peel it—” He began to do so, “—and you have unraveled fragments of space and time floating around. That’s what you did when you didn’t fine tune the coordinates for your vault. And when you jumped through?” Hal dropped the fruit, which promptly vanished, and stomped his hoof on the ground. “You mixed all the fragments together. That’s the theory, anyway. Anything you do in any reality you vault into might have some affect on, or even bleed into, our own reality. And considering your molecules originated in our reality, you could be the very catalyst that gravitates fragmented events from, say,” he waved at the room, “this reality to our own, as opposed to anywhere else they could potentially go.”

Quantum rolled her eyes. “So you’re saying I’m a temporal lightning rod, and this Ponyville I’m in now could actually be fragments from many different ones?”

Hal smiled as though his prize student had just been enlightened. “Bingo-bongo. Most of what’s happening here is a reality of its own, which is why Derpy and Spike and every other pony here are indigenous to this place. But the rocks outside or the test tubes on that rack over there? One or two of them could be from another reality altogether, where another rock or test tube is sitting in exactly the same place, at exactly the same time.” He somehow managed to both grin and look grave, “So the more royally you screw up, the worse it gets. If you fail? Not only are your molecules likely to be scattered to the cosmos like you’d originally planned anyway, but you could very well doom us all, as most of whatever reality you screw up in potentially bleeds into our own. In theory, of course.” Hal took a breath and went on, “And before you ask me, Tissy has readings on every single pony we encounter here, and if you remember what I told you back in Baltimare, no readings means nothing you do is likely to affect them. So anything you do here will probably affect them all.”

“Great,” Quantum sighed. “Just what I needed to know on an empty stomach.” She found herself staring at her own hoof. “…and it explains why you’re all helping me.”

“What?” Hal looked away again, finding himself at a loss, “...you still think that...?”

“Muffin?”

The conversation was abruptly derailed by a muffin that suddenly appeared atop the book. It had jewels embedded in it that glittered in the sunlight.

“Muffin?” Derpy repeated. “I still got a few.”

Quantum craned her neck to look up, nearly going cross-eyed trying to bring the pegasus on her back into focus. “What?”

Derpy’s honest, pouty frown and the wisp of moon yellow hanging over her lazy eye made Hal blush. There was something about her that reminded him of Tissy, which further reminded him of Quantum and the simpler days when the three of them shared science projects together. Just him and the two complicated mares with simple beauty who were his best friends.

“You said your tummy was rumbling, Doc,” Derpy went on. “Mine too. Maybe if we eat this one, it’ll fill us both up!”

Quantum narrowed her eyes at the muffin. It looked like it was about as stale and stiff as the gems it was baked with, and she felt her appetite suddenly vanish. All the same, she felt a smile helplessly spread over her cheeks in the face of Derpy’s downtrodden expression and the sheer audacity of her joke. “…thanks Derpy.”

Derpy grinned. “So your imaginary friend’s name is Hal? Flamer is a baby dragon, but you already knew that.”

“Hey!” At the mention of Derpy’s recently self-declared imaginary friend, Spike perked right up, hopped off the table, and trotted over. “I taught Flamer everything he knows, you know!”

The little dragon beamed with pride. Derpy grinned and clapped her hooves. Quantum’s cheeks were on fire worse than in those dreams where she stepped out of the shower to find herself giving a presentation in the middle of physics class.

“Hal’s a…pegasus.” The minty mare muttered just loud enough to be heard.

“Oh hey! Me too!” Derpy flexed her wings as though she were revealing them for the first time. “What’s he like?”

Quantum stared at Hal with a ‘help me’ look in her eyes. The holographic pegasus, as much in need of the levity as any of the solids, could only smile. “You’re supposed to be acting in character. Doctor Hooves probably has an imaginary friend. Scientists are eccentric!” He laughed, “Just look at us!”

Quantum was silent for a time; two eager pairs of eyes digging a hole to Saddle-Arabia straight through the top of her head. She finally spoke.

“Hal is…my best friend. A-and you know what they say about friendship. That it’s…magic.”

Hal’s smile vanished. With a new reason to blush, he adjusted his pocket protector and began booping randomly at his device without looking at it until it emitted a series of high-pitched error beeps in complaint. Startled, he nearly dropped the little control device. But Quantum wasn’t finished.

“He’s a…really nice guy. He teaches me things, looks out for me, and…he cares, even when I do stupid things that make me not worth being cared about. He has horrible fashion sense, he’s argumentative, and he’s terrible with the mares—”

“Hey!” Hal interjected.

“—but he has a heart of gold, forgives every trespass, and I’d be totally lost without him. He looks before I leap, and he’s more than I deserve.”

Hal was rubbing the side of his neck and staring at the floor. “…Cutie I…thanks, um…” He sounded like a schoolcolt about to ask the filly of his dreams to the prom, and he was thankful when Derpy broke the moment up.

Except that she was pointing straight at him.

“You mean him?” The muffin mare grinned. “You’re right, he has funny taste in clothes.” Derpy looked down, “And you look kinda funny too, Doc. Sorta like a mare. And a unicorn.”

The jaws of the two reality-dislocated ponies in the room simultaneously dropped.

“Wh-what…?” Quantum could barely speak, “…you can…see him? How is that possible…?”

Hal was beeping buttons so fast it was as if he was trying to knock them right off his keypad. “I-I have no idea!! Tissy says…Tissy says…” he huffed, “Dammit stop typing faster than I can read…”

Spike stared in Hal’s direction, then fixed the two conjoined mares with a look. “Huh? I don’t see anypony…what are you talking about?”

Derpy had an idiot grin on her face and was waving at Hal. Hal grinned nervously and held up a foreleg, before turning back to his readouts. “Okayokayokay…Tissy scanned you and she says your brainwave patterns are starting to merge with Derpy’s. So somehow she’s begun to be able to perceive…what you can perceive. Though chances are I’m barely there to her, like a ghost; to her, you and Doctor Hooves are probably more like blurry afterimages superimposed over one another in a photograph.” He raised his voice beyond a necessary level, “Derpy! Can you hear me?”

Derpy flicked an ear and tilted her head. Her lips matched the movements of Hal’s, and twenty seconds later she finally uttered, “Nope! But I can read lips real good!” She put a hoof on Quantum’s head and forcibly turned it, removing the hoof only with a painful ripping sensation. “Hey, can you see Flamer? He’s right over there! Sometimes he helps me make muffins. Actually the rock muffins were his idea.”

“Rock muffins are the best idea ever!” A grin expanded across Spike’s face and contracted back into confusion faster than a single breath. “Sooo…are you guys starting to lose it from the sick or what? Cause I’m not into that whole bleeding with leeches thing.”

Quantum was still whimpering in pain from the sudden hoof application and removal. Her voice softened. “…I’m gonna die, Hal. I might as well do it with a clear conscience. Or at least clearer than the last time I tried.”

Hal’s beeping and booping slowed when he noticed the soft blush on Quantum’s cheeks. He remembered the previous conversation and faltered. “I…Cutie listen, I…”

Derpy’s brightness never failed her – not even when a shudder and a rasping cough wracked her flanks. “Aw Doc, we’re not gonna die. We’re just gonna turn into a new pony. Maybe we’ll be like Shypie. She sure seems happy.”

Humbled by Derpy’s endless enthusiasm. Hal and Quantum could do little but stare at once another in silence. They didn’t realize they were even looking at each other until Spike was suddenly in between them. He pointed at the still-open book on the floor, with the rock hard muffin still atop it. His eyes were as big as wagon wheels.

“Doc, we gotta do something. You said this book would help us…”

Quantum had little choice but to turn her attention to the little dragon. She felt her softness glaze over and tighten into frustration along with her stomach. “Can you read it?”

“Well, no, but—“

“Because I can’t read it. Derpy can’t read it either.”

Derpy pointed at Hal, “Can he read it?”

Hal only shrugged. “Tissy can’t place the dialect or the vocabulary. Even Princess Twilight has no idea, and if even she doesn’t have a clue, it must be older than any of her books. I’m sorry Cutie,” he said heavily, “but…I can’t help you this time.”

Quantum slammed the book shut with her magic and utterly failed at throwing a tantrum when she realized she couldn’t suddenly get up and trot away. She grunted, forcing herself and Derpy off the floor until the weight suddenly lightened dramatically. She glanced over at a nearby mirror, and was greeted by an image of Doctor Hooves, his brown coat mottling into gray along his back. Derpy was laying on top of him, smiling as she beat her wings just enough to give the doctor on his hooves.

“Spike,” Quantum watched the doctor sigh into the mirror, “it’s over. Unless you have some incredibly advanced ancient computer or something…that…can…”

“What’s a computer?” Spike furrowed his brow. He waved his arm in front of Quantum’s eyes and tried to get her attention, but the minty mare and her pudgy, holographic friend were sharing a lightbulb moment.

“The computer pad!” Hal was practically dancing. “It’s twenty-thousand years old and it’s way past any technology we have in Equestria! If there’s any way to translate a language so old Equestria has no records of it at all, the computer has to be it!”

Quantum’s brightness waned. “But…we can’t operate it. It has a mnemonic interface. The only reason I was able to trick Tilt’s cronies into thinking Hole Card was a guard brigade back in Baltimare was by trying to access the thing incorrectly so many times it set off a security alarm.” She pointed to her temple, “Without a data port drilled into my head leading straight to my cerebral cortex, getting it to do something that complicated is as much fiction as the idea of having a jack-in port in my brain in the first place.”

Hal felt a thickness rising in his throat, but he fluffed his wings indignantly and narrowed his eyes, as if to challenge fate itself. “It’s better than nothing! Tissy and Princess Twilight are doing all they can, but…this is something we can do in the meantime. Just try it?”

Quantum glanced down at the leg pouch Hal had burned out part of the Accelerator’s matrix just to provide her with. Still out of phase, both it and it’s contents remained invisible to anypony that couldn’t also see Hal. It sported the Canterlot Academy of Sciences class of 2039 logo. Inside, it held a thin, hoofheld computer device that predated all of Equestria by twenty thousand years – a civilization Quantum had witnessed die. And so far as she knew, there was no way to operate the device without plugging the snakelike appendage that would slink out of it whenever it was activated straight into her head. In 2039, it was laughable fantasy. Twenty millennia prior, it was a day at the office.

“It…can’t hurt to try.” Quantum finally agreed.

She didn’t get past unsnapping the pouch flap before a tremor sufficient enough to send several beakers crashing to the floor rocked the laboratory.

Spike, who was simmering with confusion and about to pop, scattered his thoughts all over the floor like marbles and sprinted for the door. This time when he pulled on the knob, the entire door simply popped off its hinges. Discarding the splintered object he stared outside…and froze.

“Spike…?” Quantum offered, as if the word alone were enough to request an explanation of what the little dragon was seeing.

“…g-go…” Spike choked, and then bounded back into the room, waving his arms in panic. “Go! We gotta go! NOW!!”

“What?” Quantum sputtered, “Why?”

A section of the wall of the laboratory began to glow with multicolored light. As if caught in a powerful gravity field, the wall simply…pulverized, crumbling in on itself, subjected to stress levels that were only theoretical - even in 2039.

Quantum stared, and found she couldn’t move. And it wasn’t because of the pegasus on her back.

Twijack was there. An accusatory fire of damnation was burning in the apple-princess’s eyes, but it paled in comparison to the monstrosity she brought with her. There, standing more than twice Twijack’s height, its horn still aglow with the colors that had rent the very walls like paper, was a tall, elegant alicorn in the splotched colors of night and day. Its mane and tail, both constantly whipping like banners caught in a malignant wind, could easily have enveloped Quantum whole, with Derpy still attached. Its rump was half covered in a black blotch, with dueling symbols of sun and moon on its flanks that anypony could easily recognize.

“…m-mother of…” Hal’s warm, burnt orange coat was so pale that the fear-accelerated blood throbbing through his temples was nearly visible. He didn’t even bother trying to press any buttons. “Cutie…get out of here…don’t wait for an explanation from Tissy, just GO!”

Quantum could practically feel the huffing breaths of the two shocking beings before her. They both fixed her with a seething gaze that made her instantly weak in the knees - if not for Derpy’s wings, the minty mare would simply have collapsed from fear.

Doctor Hooves had robbed the princess’s cradle, and Twijack had called in the royal cavalry.

“D-do we have a back door in this place?” The words rattled out through Quantum’s chattering teeth. Derpy looked down incredulously.

“Sure Doc. It’s in the back.”

The new monster – Quantum mentally dubbed it ‘Lunestia’, glared at the aquarium-like container in the middle of the doctor’s lab that Quantum had learned used to contain an invention of his – flameless fireworks. With barely a hint of effort on the part of the merged princess, the reinforced glass glowed with magic, bypassed cracking, and simply exploded into thousands of dangerous shards, the suspension liquid inside drenching everything within ten hooves in all directions.

“Sp-Spike…” Quantum sputtered, “Spike!!”

Spike was already fleeing for the back door. Only the shock of actually being addressed stopped him. “D-doc!? C’mon we gotta get outta here!!”

“No.”

“No!?”

“Cutie,” Hal was backing away as well, hologram or no. “I dunno what you think you’re planning but you CANNOT fight those things. There’s three of the most powerful ponies in Equestria in there combined with an earth pony whose steadfastness is a legend even in our time.” Hal recalled Quantum’s motives when she first leapt into the Accelerator, and a horrible thought struck him, “There could still be a way out of all of this Cutie…don’t just throw your life and Derpy’s away—”

Twijack launched herself on powerful hind legs and sailed straight towards the Quantum/Derpy connection. The only way to dodge was for Quantum to throw herself off balance on purpose and skid across the slick floor, coming up with several shards of glass embedded in her flank. She winced, checked that Derpy was still breathing and conscious – and then began barking out orders.

“Spike! Get the book! Stuff anything else you can find into your satchel, and get the hell out of here! We’ll cover you!”

“C-cover!?” Hal exploded, “Cutie that’s suicide!!”

“Princess Twilight said it herself, Hal!” Quantum called, “we lose that book and it’s all over!”

Spike, momentarily awed by the doctor’s sheer audacity, felt a welling of dragon pride swell in his breast. He stood tall, sprinted forward, and nabbed up the yellow book, stuffing it in his satchel. He then went about grabbing any small objects he could that looked as though they would be of any use – sealed beakers, instruments, and so forth clattered into his bag one after another.

Quantum, still on her side, craned her neck to glance at Derpy. She was counting on the ditsy pegasus and her amazing courage.

“You ready for this?”

She wasn’t disappointed when the wall-eyed mare saluted her yet again.

“Rodger dodger!”

Twijack snarled and drew a bead on Spike, but the newly conjoined mares were suddenly right in her path; Derpy’s wings beating furiously just to keep them standing.

“Hey ugly!” Quantum chided. “I scribble in dictionaries and wipe my butt with encyclopedia pages! How about that!?”

Hal began booping buttons and staring at his readouts as though he were waiting for the final play of a hoofball tournament. “Tissy Tissy help me out here..! Quantum’s going coltcrap craaaaazy on us again!”

Twijack fell into a crouch, her hackles high and her wings spread low as if she intended to launch herself into the sky. Rather than attacking right off, she began circling Quantum and Derpy like a predator, and it didn’t take long to figure out why - though she was still towering regally, Lunestia was doing the same thing. The only two corporeal ponies left in the lab who were not infused with the power of a princess suddenly found themselves stuck in the middle.

As Quantum and Derpy kept switching views between their two assailants, Hal was flitting all over the room like a startled breezy, smacking at controls, phasing through things, and scrounging for an answer. A device studded with vacuum tubes and arcing bolts of energy sailed right through him on a trajectory for his companions, but Derpy managed to pull them out of the way. Seconds later, Quantum deftly sidestepped a wooden contraption that looked like a bumpercar that had been ripped from the ceiling by magic.

Hal paused to consider the mingled pegasus and unicorn. Somehow they’d managed to avoid being crushed under debris being tossed at them from two different directions. When the answer came to him, he smacked his forehead so hard he nearly staggered himself.

“It’s teamwork!” Hal shouted, “Cutie! They’re out of their heads with anger and disease! Disorganized! They can’t flank you if you can watch both of them at once! Keep it up!”

Quantum felt a rush of adrenaline she hadn’t experienced since she was beating Tilt at his own game in 2027, with her mother looking on. “Derpy! Hup!”

“Hup Hup!” The pegasus responded. With a sudden blast of her wings she lifted the pair safely over the good doctor’s recently acquired bowling ball, which had been lobbed at them like the shot of a cannon. The ball went bouncing into a support beam, shattering it easily with the force that had been used to toss it.

The laboratory shuddered. Several other heavy objects were already incoming. Quantum’s lightbulb went off again.

“Derpy…” She grinned. “…bring it down.”

In the initial stages of the disease, the minds of the two ponies were literally beginning to merge into one. As a result, they could anticipate one another’s moves faster than the most skilled team of Wonderbolts to ever live. Each pair of eyes stayed focused on the repetitive, unimaginative smashing attacks stemming from the impaired minds of their opponents. With each new assault, they made a point of moving in front of another support beam, waiting for it to splinter under the force of more sparking, obliterated machinery. By the time enough of the twisted flotsam was sufficiently damaged to start a fire, portions of the roof were already collapsing. In the instant it took for their attackers to become distracted by attempting to stamp out the flames or simply rearing like mindless stablehorses, Quantum eyed a hole in the ceiling and supplied her partner with the final leg of her plan.

“Derpy! Go!”

As Doctor Hooves’s laboratory collapsed into rubble, Derpy burst forth from the roof, her wings beating too fast to see. Hal was in the sky - he pointed out Spike, who had already reached the edge of town on foot.

“The hills!” Hal barked. “Tissy says there’s a cave half a mile away due east. That rubble won’t hold them for long, so grab Spike and disappear!”

Quantum had only known Derpy for a short time. At first she had though the lazy-eyed, slackjawed mare to be nothing but a frustration. But she had to admit – Derpy’s courage and ability to cast off exhaustion until she got the job done was as awe-inspiring as her impossible resistance to pessimism.

As the party fled through the air, Quantum thought that with these two by her side, she could accomplish anything.

Even the impossible feat that still lay ahead.

5.8 - Common Pinkie Sense

July 19, 2015

Cave – Foothills due east of Ponyville

Sunday

More than any impulse he could remember feeling since this whole time and space business began, Hal wanted to leave.

He wanted to get out of the holo-imaging chamber that projected his image into Quantum’s relative position in spacetime, toss the control device into a corner, and beg Tissy to give him Brutus back so he could curl up in a crumbling corner of the C.A.S. science wing and try to feel better.

But he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. He had failed as an adviser to his dear friend, and thus remaining with her to the bitter end was not only his penance, but the very least he could do.

“What…day is it?’ Quantum croaked.

“Sunday.” Hal replied dryly, standing at the entrance to the unassuming little cave Tissy had found for them at the last minute, to make good their escape from Ponyville. He was thankful that the topographical maps of the area she had most likely called up hadn’t changed much in twenty-four years. The cave wasn’t much more than a scrap dug out of the base of the foothills – easily missed.

Four days ago, the troupe had launched their master plan, and they had succeeded in evacuating a book from the lair of a mad alicorn who thought of every single tome as her own child. Three days ago, they had engineered their cunning escape from Ponyville and managed to befuddle no less than three princesses as to their whereabouts, until said royalty gave up and went home.

Since then, they had done nothing but rot.

Hal tapped his device a few times and glanced at the readouts merely out of habit. Not long ago he had been refreshing the data like a madhorse, desperate for some update from Tissy. But now he knew there would be none. Neither she nor Princess Twilight had any idea how to translate the ancient tongue the yellow book was written in, and though they were both still diligently working at it, Hal’s hopes were about as docked as the tail of a prizefighter. And just as bruised.

Spike, carrying a small bucket of water from a spring below, walked right through the holographic pegasus and into the cave. “Hey…” he said softly, trying to keep his chin up as he took a ladle to the water. “I got you guys something to drink.”

Hal turned around…and instantly regretted it. Tissy had been right about the accelerated progress of the disease. Derpy, bless her, was still smiling as she sipped from the offered ladle – but she no longer had any legs. Her shoulders and hips simply bled into Quantum’s; the equally swirling coat colors there suggested that either of them could use the same four limbs freely now. Derpy’s belly and Quantum’s back were now a single, mottled mass that rose and fell with their mutual breathing and pulsed with their shared heartbeats. Hal didn’t need to consult with Tissy to understand enough of their internal organs had fused that they were now totally dependent upon one another. Still, so long as they were not completely joined, they were less a paint-splattered single pony and more an amorphous, oversized mass of fleshy fuzz. Mercifully, Derpy could still lift her chin off of Quantum’s head when she bent to drink the water.

Spike lowered the ladle to Quantum’s lips, but the minty mare refused to drink. She didn’t even bat an eyelid. Spike poked her lips with the ladle anyway.

“Doc, I know you’re not asleep. You need to drink something.”

“Give it to her,” Quantum scoffed without opening her eyes. “I’ll get it either way.”

Spike frowned and looked at Derpy, who mimicked his expression and lifted a shared hoof to stroke Quantum’s cheek. “C’mon Doc. We’re not dying, you know?”

“…we might as well be,” Quantum muttered and then clenched her teeth, whimpering against a wave of pain as another bit of her sinews warped and mutated into something new. Derpy chose to pant her way through the pain instead, but even her eyes were shut tightly for as long as it lasted.

Hal answered a question that wasn’t asked, “Tissy says…a couple hours at most. But by then you two won’t know what’s happening anymore, and if it’s any consolation, you won’t care.” Considering the harshness of his words, he backpeddled, “…I-I’m sorry…”

Quantum waved the apology off with one of her shared forelegs just as Derpy was trying to reach for an itch. The clumsy miscommunication of nerves caused the leg to bat Quantum’s glasses off her muzzle. To Spike, a random pair of eyeglasses had suddenly just…appeared, lying in the dirt. He approached them, curiously, and picked them up to inspect the reddish-brown frames.

“Huh? Where did these come from?”

“They’re hers,” Derpy took over the use of the foreleg to point at the unicorn beneath her. Spike raised a brow and gave the partially-gray pegasus a condescending look.

“Doc…doesn’t wear glasses, Derpy. And I dunno if the heat or the sick is getting to you, but he’s not a she.”

“Aww,” Derpy grinned and pointed at Doctor Hooves again, “I don’t mean him. I mean her. She wears glasses.”

“Cutie…” Hal cautioned, “…remember you can’t take those with you if they leave your body…”

“D-doesn’t…make any difference…” Quantum crowed, drawing everypony’s attention. “…I can’t s-see anyway…”

Hal knelt down and ran his device over Quantum’s head like a scanner, Derpy casually watching him. “You can’t see at all? Like blindness?”

Quantum offered a strained shake of her head. “...spots and stuff. Doesn’t matter cause we’re gonna die…”

There was nothing useful for any of them to say in response. Hal thought about it, and eventually waved his foreleg to get Derpy’s attention back.

“GLASS-ES—” he formed the words with exaggerated movements of his mouth and pretended to take the glasses from Spike. “Can – you – put – them – here – please?” He then gestured as if to slip the glasses into Quantum’s secure, interphased leg pouch. Derpy looked confused for a moment, then let out a sharp ‘ohhhh!’ noise and turned to Spike.

“Hey, lemme have those.”

Spike shrugged and handed the glasses over. “Uh, sure. Why?”

“Gonna put them away.”

Spike watched Derpy take the glasses in her teeth and lower them to her mutually-owned foreleg until they simply…vanished.

“I think she gets to keep them if they go in there,” Derpy said matter-of-factly, as if that were a clear explanation for what had just happened. Spike just stood there looking befuddled.

As Hal watched the little dragon ask Derpy about magic tricks, it occurred to him that there was only one reason he would bother to ensure Quantum never lost the only pair of glasses he could give her.

Because he hadn’t given up.

“Cutie,” Hal leaned in close, “Hey, Cutie. What did Spike bring with him again?”

Quantum did not respond. Wracked with pain, weight, and exhaustion, she only panted, blowing some lose dirt from the cave floor around with her snout.

“Spike,” Derpy conveyed Hal’s question in Quantum’s place, “What’d you bring with you?”

“Huh? O-oh—“ Spike walked back over to his satchel and began rummaging through it, tossing stuff into the dirt without a care. “Uhh, a couple beakers, this thing that looks like a slide rule, the book we can’t read…oh and this other book here—“ He examined the title and scrunched his nose. “Fundamental…yook-lid-ee-an Geometry?” He shrugged and tossed the book over his shoulder – it landed spine down, open to a random page. “I guess we can use that if we run out of sticks and it gets cold one night.”

Hal was thankful for the inexplicable mental connection between the two mares. Now he could at least communicate. All he needed was a plan. And those were in painfully short order.

A sudden rustling of tall, wild summer grasses outside brought everypony but the dazed Quantum to life. Spike grabbed his hoofball mitt. Despite shivering a little, he stood defiantly in front of his last remaining friends.

“Wh-whatever you are—“ he challenged, “I-I don’t care how many ponies it took to make you, but you’re not coming in here!”

Something was stalking under the grass like a cat. The moment a face popped up, Spike hurled his mitt at it. The thick glove bapped Shypie right between the eyes, eliciting a silly, tongue-lolling squeal from the inexhaustibly giddy pony.

“Oh, hey Shypie,” Spike greeted the diseased mare as casually as he did during Quantum’s failed attempt to snare her. “You don’t even care that I just hit you in the face with a hoofball mitt, do you.”

“Shypie!” Shypie declared, bouncing into the cave on perpetually rubber hooves. The painted mare wasted little time – soon she was hopping in circles around the two mares who were soon-to-be her new friend, making spitting noises and giggling. Derpy returned every gesture, giggling back despite the pain coursing through her body.

“You know, I think it’s her defense mechanism. Derpy’s I mean.” Hal spoke his observations aloud, just trying to keep to Quantum conscious. “Hard to give into pain when you’re smiling. It’s a powerful thing, when you think about it.”

“Thesquareofthehypotenuseofarighttriangleisequaltothesumofthesquaresoftheothertwosides!” Shypie barked.

Everypony and dragon alike gaped at Shypie, who was standing over the discarded, open book of Euclidean geometry.

“Did she just…” Hal could barely find his voice. “…was that the Pythagorean Theorem?”

“Shypie!” Shypie grinned. “Heebieee~~” She began to hop away. Hal leapt in front of her, waving for her to stop, but of course the very solid pony simply jumped right through him. Frustrated he turned to Derpy.

“Get – her – to – do – that – again!” He mouthed.

Derpy turned to Spike. “Hey. Get her to do that again.”

“Why?”

Derpy shrugged. “I dunno. Doc’s imaginary friend wants her to.”

“…riiiight,” Spike took a step back, sighed, and went to retrieve the book. If it made his poor friends happy, why not? He waved the book such that Shypie could see it. “Heeeeere FlutterPinkie! Nice book here for ya! Lots of fiber!”

Shypie took to panting again, and before Spike could plan his next move, the mare had him pinned to the cave floor and was bathing his face in her tongue.

“Pfft! H-hey stop!” Spike complained, “That tickles! And it’s weird!” Shypie was staring at the book, rattling off passages from it without missing a single face lick—

“Giventwopointsthereisastrightlinethatjoinsthem!”

“Astraightlinesegmentcanbeprolongedindefinitely!”

“Allrightanglesareequal! All right! Heebieee~~”

Hal was casually standing over the pinned dragon, observing Shypie’s expression as she read. “She has…no idea what she’s saying. I don’t even think she realizes she’s even ‘reading’. It’s a…programmed response.” Hal whipped out his device. “Tissy, help me out here…how is that possible?” The device beeped back at him, and he made a face. “Come on, that’s ridiculous. You can’t believe that would really work.” The device beeped again, insistently now. “Fine, fine, I’ll try it.”

Hal turned to get Derpy’s attention just as his ears caught the sound of Quantum stirring. He was by her side in a flash.

“Cutie, tell Spike to give Shypie the book.”

“Mwah…?” Quantum blobbered; pale as cauliflower. “What book? What’s going on?”

“Just do it!”

“Spiiiiike—” Quantum whined, “Give’r the book…”

Spike was just sitting up and recovering from being soaked by pony tongue. “Huh? I just did that!”

Derpy elaborated, “She means the other book. Her imaginary friend wants you to.”

“Of all the--!” Spike’s indignity flared, “Look, I’m all for being nice to you guys because you’re sick, but I just got trampled and turned into an ice cream cone, so unless there’s a really good reason for—”

“Spike!” Quantum shut her eyes tightly and cried out with annoyance, desperate to keep her cognizance cresting the wave of pain. “Just give her the book!!”

“Alright already, yeesh…” Spike went to his bag, pulled out the enigmatic yellow book, and tossed it nonchalantly at Shypie’s hooves. It too fell open. Shypie stared at it for a moment.

“Atreatiseonthelogicalpreparationofnaturalremediesforuncommonlyencounteredphenomenaofamaliciousnature.” Shypie grinned and nuzzled into Spike’s petting claw when he praised and scratched her behind the ear.

Quantum’s eyes popped open in response to the fires of hope being stoked inside her again; pulsing the adrenaline she needed just for consciousness through her veins. She and Hal stared at one another with even more disbelief than they had when Derpy had begun talking to the hologram.

“What’s is with this weird reality?” Quantum managed.

“Who cares!?” Hal let out a cheerful whoop. “This could be the answer we were looking for!”

Quantum forced her elation down and took the role of Devil’s Advocate. It was something she and Hal had gotten used to doing for one another in freshman year, when they’d first started building a rapport as lab partners. They’d both since found it to be a critically useful method to keep them from jumping to the first excited conclusion they came to and blowing up the lab.

“But she clearly has no idea what she’s even saying,” Quantum observed. “How do we know she’s actually reading the words in that book? I seriously doubt Fluttershy or Pinkie Pie ever came in contact with the civilization that wrote it. And even then—” She waved her foreleg at the panting puppymare, “She could just be remembering something from an old song or whatever.”

“Thisstepbystepguidewillenlightenthereaderastothesimplestandmosteffectivetechniquesforcombatinganumberoflesserknownbiologicalagents,” Shypie babbled, as though she were simply saying hello.

“Would you rather waste away until you go crazy with pain and turn into…into…” Hal faltered, “Derpy help me out here…”

“Doctor Hooves!” Derpy cried out gleefully. When Spike gave her a questioning look, she held out two shared hooves and touched them together. “Doctor Hooves and Derpy Hooves. Put em together and you get Doctor Hooves! Like Heartbond!”

Spike stuck out his tongue. “That’s no good. How about like…Docterpy or something? It kinda sounds like octopus, and there’s two of you, so two ponies have eight legs…but..” Spike seemed to be genuinely lost in thought over this, “…but you won’t have eight legs when it’s over, so maybe Derptor or something…that kinda sounds like an action figure I used to have though…”

“Derptor!” Shypie repeated, bouncing in circles. “Docterpy! Raaarrrrr!!”

“But Shypie has foalbrain!” Quantum growled at Hal, “Even if she can read at all, the idea that she can read that is just impossible!”

The infectious smile going around the room faded on Hal’s lips. His companion had a point. He took out his device and began booping out a message to Tissy. The reply took a full minute, but has his eyes scanned the screen, he came down with a case of the quivering giggles again.

“Pinkie sense.” He stated simply.

“What?”

“Pinkie sense!” Hal repeated. “Tissy says that Princess Twilight says that she’s studied the Elemental Keeper of Laughter, Pinkie Pie, in depth for decades. No matter how she’s ever tried to quantify or explain it, Pinkie apparently just has some unfathomable ability to…make things work. The princess calls it ‘Pinkie Sense’.” Hal read on, “…apparently Pinkie can predict the future with jerking sensations all over her body, fly using only her tail, and has on multiple occasions explained details about situations or thoughts and feelings of other ponies she couldn’t possibly have knowledge of!” He bapped the device with the back of his hoof, “That’s got to be what this is!”

Quantum looked exasperated, “That came directly from our Princess Twilight?”

“Straight from the pony’s mouth!” Hal beamed. He knelt beside Quantum as the latter shuddered with another spasm of pain. “Cutie…let’s try.”

Shypie had her face in the book again. She was ‘reading’ so quickly that she was nearly impossible to understand. Quantum gritted her teeth against the pain and tried in vain to push herself up. This time when Derpy helped out with her wings, Quantum felt an odd sensation. The wings were hers, too…spurs that felt as though they were jutting out from her shoulders. Common to a pegasus, but wholly unnatural for a scrawny young unicorn.

“We can do this,” Hal encouraged, “If we do it together. Spike can get the ingredients. Tissy can translate any strange terms we come across. Derpy can hold you up.”

Quantum felt her stomach rolling around inside her like a rubber ball. “H…hold me up for what…?”

Hal pointed at Shypie. “Somepony has to make what she’s reading understandable.” He held up his device, smiling ahead of the despair that was still licking at his fetlocks. “You didn’t think you were getting out of this, did you?” He asked playfully.

Through the night, they worked. Holographic pegasus, baby dragon, and four diseased mares alike burned every ember of the dragon camp fire that warmed them as they went about the excruciatingly slow and methodical task. Nearly spent of energy and held aloft by Derpy, Quantum pointed with the tip of her hoof to each word in the book, covering the rest of the page just to ensure Shypie only read one at a time. Spike went out with a torch into the countryside to fetch ingredients or mix things in the beakers with a stick, while at the same time assisting the others in the trial of keeping Shypie from sinking into boredom and hopping away. Hal kept an open line to the future and functioned as a living medical and biological encyclopedia, clarifying higher terms and concepts of chemistry that the two temporal engineers in the room were somewhat less adept with.

By dawn they were thoroughly exhausted…but they were staring at a small beaker of dreamsicle-orange and yellow liquid that swirled and flowed constantly, sparkling like glittery paint…even as it sat perfectly still near the memory of the dead campfire. The beaker next to it had only traces of the same fluid.

Quantum sat propped up against a wall. In her lap, cradled beneath forelegs that were her own again, were Spike and Derpy; both fast asleep and lightly snoring. She was studying them…stroking their heads, wondering how her mother felt back in the early days on the magic cart, where it was just the two of them. Mare and filly. Mother and daughter. Watching the stars.

“Bit for your thoughts?” Hal stifled the words through a yawn as he stretched in the morning sunlight.

“It was so…easy,” Quantum mused, not looking up. Her nerves were still worn from the constant assault of pain, but she was her own pony again. She looked up at Hal. “I don’t mean the work. But the formula, it was all just…local fauna mixed in the right portions. When you get right down to it anyway.”

Hal smiled. “Sometimes the simplest answer is the best.”

Quantum didn’t share the expression. “We were saved by ‘Pinkie sense’. What was I even sent here for?”

Hal had a cup of tea from the future hooked around his hoof, and he made no bones about draining it despite his company. “You really need to ask that? They couldn’t have done it without you.”

“It was a lot of dumb luck…” Quantum huffed. She looked down, only to find Hal’s other hoof in her chest.

“Stop selling yourself short. They had the courage, but you rallied them. You gave them hope. And because of you, Tissy says—” Hal drew back and fumbled to retrieve his device, “Forty-seven point three percent chance that Equestria will survive.”

Quantum looked up again. “Forty seven? That’s all?”

Hal nodded his head at Shypie, who was sleeping soundly as well. “Jumps another fifty points when you dump the antidote on her. Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie can take it from there.”

“And everything will go back to the way it was?”

Hal slipped his device back in the pocket protector of his tweed turtleneck, that today resembled Quantum’s mane colors. “I don’t need Tissy for that and neither do you. Of course not. A lot of damage has been done here. Lots of ponies have probably been hurt…or worse. But as a culture, Cutie…this Equestria will survive. They’ll rebuild, and now our reality is safe from the effects of what could have been. And it’s thanks to you. Pat yourself on the back because I can’t do it for you.”

Quantum lounged for a time, just letting her passengers sleep on her. “Like an itch you know you can scratch,” she muttered, patting both their heads and not minding their weight. “These two…they’re something special. I never knew Spike at this age, and Derpy? I’d like to meet her someday...”

Hal knew Quantum meant to add ‘if I ever got home’ without having to hear it. “Tissy says she’s still alive and well in our timeline. I can get you some other data if you want.”

Quantum waved a hoof and smiled. “Nah. This world still needs our help. It isn’t right to keep it waiting.” With a certain gentleness, the minty mare sat each head down on a soft patch of dirt and left them to dream. “I’m gonna miss them.”

Hal only grunted in agreement. Floating unnecessarily out of Quantum’s way, he paused to regard her. Her softness. Her expression. So different from moment to moment. He wondered if she really had it in her to destroy the lives of so many innocents back home. Was it because she was too rough? Or because she was too soft?

How much of this vault had been for the ponies here...and how much of it had been for Quantum?

The minty mare, a stallion again this time around, ignored the good doctor’s lack of a horn and levitated the still-full beaker by the corpse of the fire. She trotted over to Shypie, thinking aloud as she went. “I was so busy trying to save this place that I forgot to really understand who I’m supposed to be right now. I hope that doesn’t count against me,” She chuckled.

Just as she was about to tip the beaker over and splatter Shypie with the antidote, two blue-green eyes snapped open and stared up at her. Quantum knelt, brushing her hoof over the wild poofiness of Shypie’s mane.

“This will make you all better,” She cooed, showing the beaker to the obfuscated mare.

Shypie seemed…different. Without a smile, she recoiled and sat up, her eyes shining with more green than Quantum was used to seeing. She was flexing her shoulder blades; trying to flap wings that weren’t there.

Quantum thought she understood. “It won’t hurt you,” She began again, “It will make you well again.”

The voice that emitted from Shypie was softer. More melodious – so much so that each reluctant word felt like a song unto itself as it hung in Quantum’s ears. “Not sick.”

Quantum looked confused. “Huh? Yes you are. You used to be two ponies, remember? Don’t you want to be yourself again?”

Shypie pointed at herself. “Shypie.”

“…Fluttershy,” Quantum prodded Shypie’s chest with a hoof gently. “Pinkie Pie. That’s who you are. If you drink this—”

“Shypie—“ Shypie cut her off, “…die.”

Quantum looked up at Hal, her ears drooping. “…what do I do now?”

Hal couldn’t meet the eyes of either mare. “I dunno. We never really considered that the disease was…making new ponies. I wonder if there are others who feel this way about what they’ve become, too.”

Quantum looked back at the worried Shypie, who no longer had a bounce in her hooves. “…is this even really a disease? Who are we to tell Shypie she can’t be Shypie anymore? Is this...right?” She swallowed

Quantum felt a tugging on the beaker. Looking up, she found Shypie’s hoof on it, a determined look in the conjoined mare’s eyes. “Make ponies better.”

Quantum nodded, not interrupting.

“Shypie…can’t make ponies better.”

Quantum shook her head.

“Fluttershy can. Pinkie Pie can.” Shypie stared at the beaker. “Nopony is laughing. Nopony is feeding the chickens.”

It was the highest level of reasoning either of the spacetime-displaced ponies had ever heard from Shypie.

“You don’t have to—”

In a flourish, Shypie ripped the beaker from Quantum’s magical aura and doused herself with it.

Blue-white flames from infinity consumed Quantum’s vision before she could even look for the white pony. She uttered a single, unheard word-

“…bye.”

6.1 - The Friends We Make

June 19, 2010

Canterlot

Monday

This time, Quantum managed to hold in the vertigo that usually resulted from having her molecules forcibly ripped to another point in spacetime. Two vaults ago she had considered writing a paper on this unexpected and unpleasant side-effect of travel through time and space, if she ever got home to do so. But the more it happened, the more she came to realize that the Accelerator was never intended to cause ponies to teleport randomly, nor inhabit the bodies of other ponies. A desire to vomit into the bushes might just be another cosmic joke being played on her.

She swallowed back the bile, managing only to stumble and fall to her knees this time. When her eyes came into focus, they came upon nothing but a steel-gray hoof thrust in her face. She flinched.

“A spell of dizziness again?” A gravely, masculine voice asked. “Have you been back to the doctor recently? You should have that addressed. Here, let me help you up.”

Quantum took the offered foreleg without thinking, and was drawn up to her hooves to gaze upon a sight that froze her in place.

Canterlot. Home.

Instantly her thoughts turned to her crimes, and ponies vying for her head. She recoiled from the supporting foreleg, turning to fix its owner with a startled stare. The leg’s owner - a stocky, middle-aged gray unicorn stallion with a short-cropped black mane and a stack of books levitated beside him, seemed just as startled.

“I-I’m sorry, Missus Saddleworn. If I’ve injured you--”

Quantum didn’t take the stallion up on his offer of support this time. “...Saddleworn? Where...?”

The Stallion looked worried now. He pointed at a street sign. “Bright Avenue. Near the college.”

“College...?” Quantum fought for clarity, “The Academy of Sciences...? That’s not on Bright Avenue...but Hal said it a lot of it had been destroyed...maybe they moved it...”

Now the stallion looked downright distressed. He creased his heavy brow over his eyes and squinted. “I beg your pardon, but the...what?” He offered a dry chuckle, hoping for enough mirth to break up the strange conversation. “Another thesis story from one of your Language Arts students? I know how trying you find most of them.” When Quantum said nothing, the stallion gestured to a bench. “Perhaps you should rest. There are no term papers to concern yourself with today, yes?”

Turning to the bench, Quantum caught an image of herself in the reflection of a bistro window. She was…old. Haggard. The salt and pepper streaks of her mane and tail were both tied back in utilitarian buns. The long, pink, knitted shawl draped around her neck swept back over her faded cyan flanks, obscuring her cutie mark. Reading glasses hung from a pearl chain around her neck, dangling freely as she moved. Taking note of her apparent frailty, Quantum acted fast and finally took the supporting leg, allowing herself to be guided at a frustratingly slow pace to a seat on the bench.

“O-oh yes, yes sonny--I m-mean, sir...um...oh yes, yes! You know how these old bones are!”

“Why Missus Saddleworn, you’re such a cad, trying to draw me in like that! I know better than to insult those ‘old bones’ of yours. Especially after the dressing down you gave that last filly! I wouldn’t be so bold to assist you even know, but you seemed about to faint again, and I supposed...I ought to be the gentlecolt about it. I do hope I’ve not overstepped.”

“You’re fine.” Quantum muttered, relieved at least to see a smile pass the stallion’s lips. “I-I mean--” she adopted the most haggard old biddy drawl she could manage and squeaked out laughter that sounded like the keening of a bat, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers!”

The stallion raised a brow. “I…see. At any rate, are you well now? Admittedly, I still have some paperwork to deal with back at the faculty office. Just happenstance we ran into each other.”

Quantum was about to nod to dismiss the stallion, but a glance down the street at the pristine Canterlot residential district forced her curiosity out. “U-uhm...my my, yes, I was indeed quoting a...silly story, from one of my students. You know how they are! Can you believe this one was about the future! Where there was a...science academy in Canterlot, and part of it was destroyed in a...natural disaster!”

The stallion only chuckled, rising to leave. “Indeed, quite speculative.”

“Do you know what year it took place in?”

The stallion paused. “I...can say I do not. Given I haven’t read it, personally.”

“Well,” Quantum persisted in her roundabout questioning, “How many years in the future do you think a story like that could take place?”

“I...er...”

“How many years after this year do you think?” Quantum winked. “Now just think about it. What year is it now?”

“Two...thousand and ten.”

Thank you! Quantum thought. “Well, this story took place in the year two thousand and thirty-nine! Almost thirty years. Imagine that.”

“I-Imagine that, yes. At any rate,” The stallion began to edge away, “You are well now?”

“Mmhmm!” Quantum said, far too cheerily for a nag her age. The stallion gave her several uncertain looks before finally backing away to a sufficient distance where decorum would allow him to turn away and depart.

Quantum sat.

As an old nag lounging on a sidewalk bench, the minty mare was paid little mind beyond the bewildered glances of fillies who couldn’t believe anypony could be older than their thirtysomething parents. Thankful to note from her reflection that she had a horn to show off this time, she regaled a few of them with pretty light shows and other minor feats of levitation – parts of her mother’s magic training that had actually stuck. The breeze was warm. The sky clear. Ponies who weren’t stricken by a horrible merging disease were milling about in blissful ignorance and flowerboxes were in bloom. It was such a drastic change from what she had been through the past week...or future week, that she felt entitled to take in deep breaths of fragrant air and play the part of an aged biddy sunning herself. It was so perfect, she thought it might even last for a while.

“Cutie?” A familiar voice, predicated by the by now familiar wooshing of portals to the future, spoke up. “Cutie. Hey, wake up.”

Quantum didn’t even bother to open her eyes. “Hal leave me alone...can’t you see I’m enjoying my break?”

“Break? Seriously?”

Quantum nodded lazily. “I just spent three days being slowly merged into the body of another pony.” She waved at the street, “Do you know how many times I’ve had my molecules ripped apart and played with like clay? This right here is totally a break-vault! Go...I dunno, do some homework or something.”

Hal let out a snerk. “I’m happy that you’re happy. Now are you gonna listen to me or just wait around here until you fail at whatever you’re supposed to be here to do, so you and the rest of time and space can go poofydoof out of existence?”

Quantum opened her eyes just fast enough to catch the fluttering, holographic pegasus making a ‘boom’ gesture with his hooves. She raised an eyebrow. “How do you know my job isn’t to just sit on this bench all afternoon? Maybe this old nag gets up too quickly and gets stampeded to death by a herd of fillyscouts. You’d be responsible for that because you told me to get up.”

Hal was not amused, but he kept the edge out of his tone. Quantum did have a point. She did deserve a rest. His distaste for the unfairness of this whole predicament came out in a deep sigh that preceded his words.

“Tissy’s scans suggest that the event you’re here to influence will most likely occur sometime in the next few hours.”

Quantum’s brow furrowed. She caught a glimpse of another little colt being tugged away by his mother and chastised about the rudeness of staring. Before the minty mare could state the obvious, Hal began his booping and cut in.

“Don’t worry about the looks you’re getting. It says here you talk to yourself so often that the locals are used to it. Your name is...Rosetta Saddleworn. Seventy-seven years old. You’re a college instructor, relatively good health except for general physical frailness and occasional fainting spells…” Hal noticed Quantum smiling at a passerby, “...stop that. You’re crotchety, harsh, and most of your students are terrified of you.”

Quantum wiped the smile off her face and proceeded to ‘talk to herself’. “Why am I still teaching at this age?”

“All your peers retired years ago. You’re a spinster, have nothing better to do, and you’re lonely.”

Quantum glanced at the unnecessary shawl draping down into her lap. “Guess there aren’t any fillyscout troops scheduled to come through here in the next few hours, huh?”

Hal didn’t smile. “Rosetta Saddleworn died of a brain aneurysm on November seventh, two-thousand twelve. The fainting spells are an early precursor. She had no next of kin so her personal belongings were willed to the school that will eventually expand and become our Canterlot Academy of Sciences.” Hal kept booping buttons, “Oh, Tissy says her personal notebooks are still in school storage, too.”

Quantum felt a strange shiver, and found herself pulling the shawl tighter. She focused on a basket of purple petunias hanging from a streetlamp and spoke. “Am I supposed to make sure she has friends when her time comes? Reconnect her with her family? Save her life or something?”

Hal booped, and shook his frosted mane tips. “Tissy says there are no readings on you. Unfortunately Missus Saddleworn is apparently destined to die in two years. Alone.”

Quantum felt the shiver creep up her spine again. It was the first time she knew, without a doubt, that a pony she was inhabiting was destined to die soon. The only exception was the poor soul who had almost certainly perished the moment Quantum had vaulted out of them two millennia ago in Atlaminitis, a city so old and so thoroughly obliterated that even ancient Equestria seemed to have no knowledge of it. She stared up at the late morning sky, wondering who that ancient pony was or what they looked like. There hadn’t been enough time or facts to determine either.

“So what am I doing here?”

Hal was floating around the street on his wings, allowing ponies to pass through him as he scanned them at random. This time he was wearing a turtleneck so festive, Quantum thought all he needed was a mug of cocoa hooked around his hoof and he would be ready for Hearthswarming. Setting himself with a deep frown, Hal returned.

“Dunno.”

Quantum glanced at her reflection again - the stern, sharp features of her host fueled her scolding tone. “‘Dunno’? That’s it? You just have no idea?”

Hal was rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the reflection as well, apparently feeling the intimidation that radiated from it. “It’s not always so obvious, right? I haven’t found anypony with any readings on them whose fate you could have any meaningful affect upon.”

“So what do we do?” Quantum asked drolly. Hal grinned and flexed his wings.

“We go for a trot, I guess. Walk slowly, by the way. And make sure to stoop.”

Late morning bled into early afternoon. Quantum received little more than polite smiles from elderly ponies - most others simply gave her a wide berth, ignored her entirely, or withered under a stare she’d never intended to intimidate with. Her gait and the pronounced stoop she forced herself to walk with was slowly working a kink into her lower back. At every opportunity she glanced into reflective surfaces, just to see the old nag walking along with her. Was the treatment because of who she was? Or just because she was old?

As the sun continued its ascent and bathed her shawled back with its radiance, Quantum considered her mother. Trixie had never looked so...old, the last time they’d met in prison.

“Bit for your thoughts?” Hal queried, hovering nearby.

“Oh, I was just--” Quantum looked away. “You wouldn’t want to hear about it.”

“Try me?”

“I was...” Quantum hesitated. “...thinking about my mother. How old she looked the last time I saw her.”

His smile failing him, Hal focused on his device and gave an antiseptic reply. “Trixie Lulamoon is only around fifty or something in our time.”

“Hal, I just...” the now-aged mare faltered, “if I could just...I would...”

Hal was thankful for a distraction. He pointed. “Psst, hey. Check that out up ahead.”

Quantum halted before a small patch of rose bushes. She hadn’t even noticed that she’d wandered all the way past the city walls, but the sight beyond the bush gave her pause. “Hey, it’s Princess Twilight. And Spike!”

Hal shook his head. “Not ‘Princess’ Twilight. Not yet. Look at her flanks.”

Quantum squinted. Sure enough, Twilight seemed even younger than the minty mare remembered her, and she was entirely bereft of wings - just a simple unicorn. Twilight had a satchel over her shoulder that was laden with books, and the way her eyes were closed by the sun, it seemed as though she wasn’t used to focusing much in direct light. Beside her, Spike stood by with a quill and a long sheet of parchment that had notes Quantum couldn’t make out scribbled all over it.

Hal opened his mouth and closed it again. Neither he nor his fellow student could help but gape, considering the circumstances of the last Hell they had both spent alongside these two peaceful souls who were none the wiser.

“I-I could tell her about the plague--” Quantum started forward, but Hal was in her way in a flash.

“No. No matter what reality that was, you can’t divulge information about the future.”

“Wh-why not?” Quantum sputtered. “We could prevent all of that horrible stuff from ever even happening! And if this isn’t the same reality, what can it hurt to just warn her? I’ll be dead in two years and she can just write it off as ramblings from an old nag if it doesn’t happen!”

Hal’s glare was stern. “Spacetime is already screwed up enough. You’re only taking more fragmentation risks if you try to disrupt the natural flow of events any further than you have to. Besides, what are you going to say? ‘Oh hey Twilight, in five years you’ll be living in Ponyville and you’ll be friends with this one apple farmer, so make sure you don’t turn into a blob of insane ponygoo with her, okay?’”

“But I can’t just...do nothing...” Quantum looked on. Twilight was having a conversation with three unicorn mares around her age. The princess-to-be’s eyes were darting around, and she looked as though she were just riding the conversation out to its end. Quantum felt a little pang of empathy.

“I’ve got readings,” Hal announced.

“Which one?”

“All of them. But far greater on Twilight.” Hal tapped buttons. “Tissy’s analyzing it.”

Quantum sought for a way to pass the time. “Who are the other three?”

Hal hesitated, reading, and finally spoke. “Lemon Hearts, Twinkleshine, aaaand...Minuette. Locals. Friends of Twilight’s...sort of.”

Quantum watched the conversation draw to a close with a bright, shared smile between the participants. All of them. Twilight and Spike began to walk in Quantum’s direction. Instinctively, the not-quite-so minty nag ducked below the bushes.

“Ohh boy, I’m so excited!” Spike smiled. “Moondancer’s party is going to be awesome! I got her a present and everything!”

Twilight giggled. “You’re nothing if not always prepared, Spike. I have to admit I didn’t even remember when that party was supposed to be. I’d lose my head if I didn’t have you around to keep it attached.”

As the slowly cantered by, Spike nudged Twilight gently in the ribs, “So what did I tell you? You’re gonna have a great time, trust me! All our friends will be there!”

Twilight looked uncertain. “I-I know Spike. It’s just that I have so much research I still need to do. A-and this party--”

“--is just the thing you need to relax and unwind a little!” Spike finished the thought. “Didn’t Princess Celestia herself even say that there’s more to life than studying?” The little dragon looked concerned. “Twilight, really, you just need to get out a little more. I worry about you. One afternoon won’t hurt, right?”

Twilight stopped, obliging her assistant to do the same. Her indecision deepened, but Quantum felt herself silently encouraging her future mentor to make the decision she knew she herself wouldn’t have. Finally, Twilight smiled.

“You know...you’re right, Spike. One party can’t hurt. Thanks for looking out for me.”

The two resumed their course for the city walls. Quantum touched her cheek just to feel the soft smile that now lived there. If Twilight could do it...maybe she could too. Someday.”

“Cutie,” Hal’s voice was like a knife. “Stop her.”

“What?”

Hal’s eyes widened with shock as he glared at his readouts. “Stop her! Stop her NOW! No matter what happens, Twilight Sparkle cannot walk away from here with the intent to go to that party!”

At a loss, Quantum glanced helplessly between the retreating mare and the floating pegasus. “B-but why? Friendship is magic, right...? Isn’t this a good thing?”

Hal looked frantic. He flew out into the open and pointed condemningly at the two fleeing purple behinds. “If she goes to that party, Tissy says the odds are overwhelmingly likely that she’ll make a whole bunch of new friends, and strengthen her bonds with current ones!”

Quantum pursed her lips, feeling somehow defensive of the status quo. “...soooooo? Can’t she have friends?”

“Sooooo,” Hal mimicked sardonically, “If she makes a whole bunch of friends, Princess Celestia won’t send her to Ponyville to make friends, and if she doesn’t go to Ponyville...do I need to say more? The Summer Sun celebration is the day after tomorrow!”

Quantum ran some calculations in her head, and gasped satisfactorily. She glanced up at the sun as if trying to divine the future from it. “The mare in the moon...Princess Twilight told me that was the same year Princess Celestia sent her to Ponyville for the first time.”

Hal held up a hoof as if lecturing. “And if she makes friends now, she won’t be paying attention to her studies. Tissy says when Nightmare Moon comes, nopony, not even Princess Celestia, will be a match for her, because the elemental keepers will never receive their power!” Hal began booping furiously, “Eighty-seven point four percent says that a power-maddened Princess Luna, as Nightmare Moon, will defeat her sister in combat, banish her to the moon in vengeance, cause eternal night, and enslave the entire populace of Equestria through sheer power and control over food reserves, because nopony will be able to grow anything. Celestia won’t have a chance of ever escaping a lunar prison because she’s the Princess of the Sun, and...Twilight and Spike...” Hal swallowed, “...riddled by guilt over the lack of diligence, will make a fruitless attempt to fight back...and die in the process.”

Quantum didn’t want to believe it. “...all of this because Twilight made friends?”

Hal simply folded his forelegs and nodded. He waited until Quantum’s attention turned back to the retreating purple pair before continuing, his voice like stone.

“Tissy says Twilight’s studies under Princess Celestia are complimented by some coursework at the local college. Missus Saddleworn tutors her in ancient languages and culture. You’ve got clout.”

Quantum’s ears drooped with indecision. “...what do I do?”

“Go out there and ruin the magic of friendship.”

It was all Quantum could do to catch up with her targets while still maintaining the gait of the elderly. As soon as she was comfortably within earshot, she cried out.

“Miss Twilight Sparkle! H-Hold it right there!”

Both pony and dragon halted. They looked at one another without recognition, and Quantum mentally smacked herself for the lack of gravel in her voice. Finally they turned. Spike’s back straightened. Twilight’s eyes widened, but she smiled and turned to approach.

“M-missus Saddleworn!” The future princess offered. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice. You sound really...melodic, today.”

“I do?” Quantum touched her throat, but quickly dismissed the compliment with a shake of her head and started croaking out words. “Miss Sparkle! Did my ears deceive me--well no, my ears never deceive me--” Hal smiled encouragingly. “--or did I hear something about a party?”

Spike kept his mouth shut, but it was obvious he was now burning with worry. Twilight had her ears down and spoke with deference. “O-oh, well...yes, yes ma’am you did. Moondancer. You remember Moondancer? Well, she’s throwing a party, and I thought about it, and you see, my friends were nice enough to invite me, so I thought--”

“Friends?” Quantum seethed. She reached deep down, calling on all her suppressed regret, “Miss Sparkle, there is no time for friendship to a unicorn who wants to be the best. You do want to be the best, don’t you?”

“Th-the best?” Twilight continually shifted her weight, looking as though she wanted nothing more than to gallop away. “I...I want to be successful in my studies, but I don’t know about being the best--”

Quantum cut Twilight off and summoned up enough gall to poke her mentor right in the chest with a hoof. “You want to succeed? Aiming for second place leads you to nothing but a life as the first loser! Parties are a waste of time - a distraction for small-minded ponies who like to guffaw at balloons and confetti.”

“That,” Twilight’s voice was small, “...that’s awfully harsh, Missus--”

“You don’t have time for parties! You should be working, all the time, to better yourself. You do a disservice to ponykind even thinking otherwise, and you should be ashamed of that. All you’re going to end up doing at a party is standing in the corner pretending that the decorations are fantastically interesting, because you don’t feel comfortable around other ponies, and you don’t know how to talk to them. You should just stay in your laboratory, where you belong, and keep building your machines where it’s safe, instead of--”

Quantum covered her mouth abruptly with a hoof. Twilight’s expression wavered between confusion and uncertainty. “Machines...? But I thought...it’s good to make friends with other ponies...”

“You thought wrong,” Quantum threatened. “And it will show on your tests.”

Spike was gently stroking Twilight’s flank now, looking almost as terrified as he had when braving the ruins of a Ponyville of the near future with a bucket on his head. “Twilight, let’s...go home. W-we can talk about the party later, and I’m sure you can still get some studying in. That’s okay...” he glanced at Quantum, “...right?”

“No, Spike.” Twilight announced.

The little dragon’s green crests looked like they might collapse as he slowly craned his neck to look up at his mistress. “No? Wh-why not?”

All eyes were on Twilight. For a moment it looked as though she might recover from the verbal assault on her sensibilities, but Spike felt himself deflate in time with the bowing of her head and the disappearance of her smile.

“Because we have work to do. I’m Princess Celestia’s star pupil. I have a responsibility to uphold and a reputation to maintain.” Twilight’s brow hardened menacingly. “We don’t have time for parties.”

“B-but Twilight, you were so happy about--”

“Let’s go, Spike.”

“B-but--”

“Let’s go, Spike.” Twilight repeated, turning away to signify the discussion was at an end. Spike glanced between the two ponies...and couldn’t help pricking Rosetta Saddleworn with a brief glare of annoyance. Quantum scowled long enough for the baby dragon to flinch and scurry away.

“Cutie, you can stop looking like a gargoyle now.”

Quantum tousled her unkempt mane with a snort and a shake of her head. Her host’s tight bun did not move. She began to trot away in the opposite direction, her hooves suddenly burdened by a weight that matched the age she was pretending to be.

“What was all that back there?” Hal queried, fluttering by her side like a puppy. “You could have confused or upset her right back into going to the party. Twilight isn’t a mechanical engineer.”

Quantum looked up. There in the path where it simply had not been before, the shrouded colorless pony with the cowled black face regarded her. Beside it stood yet another shadow. Quantum was not surprised to see either of them, nor did she care enough to make out the silhouette’s somewhat familiar, masculine features.

Hal held his forelegs up and looked where his friend was looking. Seeing nothing, he floated in front of her, blocking her view, and spoke encouragingly. “Hooves in the game, remember? You did the right thing, Cutie. Tissy says Twilight will get over it by the time she gets to Ponyville, and even though she’ll never see Missus Saddleworn again, she’ll make the friends she needs to make, and everything will be fine.” Seeing little recognition from the scrawny unicorn, Hal waved a foreleg in front of her face. “Cutie?”

“Friendship isn’t always magic.” Quantum stated plaintively.

Blue-white fire invaded Quantum’s senses, burning away reality around her.

~Author’s note – the date for this chapter was chosen based upon the date of the 2010 summer solstice, which occurred on June 21st of that year.~

7.1 - Twinklehooves

May 15, 2030

Stability

Wednesday

Quantum felt sure that this time, she could hold in the nausea of spacetime teleportation. She might have even succeeded, had it not been for the heavy object that slammed into her muzzle the moment she reappeared.

Disoriented by shifting lights and colors that her senses hadn’t yet caught up with, she lost her balance, toppled onto her back, and proceeded to lose the acidic contents of her empty stomach all over herself, just as hard ground came up to roughly meet her spine. She sputtered, trying not to choke on her own bile and pawed helplessly at her muzzle, wondering if the pain was sufficient to constitute a complete crushing of her septum.

“Aw, what?” A voice called out, “Gross!”

“Dude!” Another voice cried, “Twinklehooves barfed!”

“Sick!” Shouted a third.

Still overwhelmed by pain and sensory deprivation, Quantum could only roll on her side and whimper under the chorus of mocking laughter that seemed to assail her from all sides. A shrill whistle pierced the air, followed immediately by a husky, masculine voice.

“Alright, break it up! What happened here?”

“Twinklehooves barfed,” Yet another voice replied.

Quantum felt as though she had just galloped straight into a tree at full speed, and she couldn’t be sure the whistling noise hadn’t been her own ears ringing. She cracked her eyelids and tried to bring the world into focus. Her vision was almost entirely blocked by a spherical object…a ball? Before she could examine it, a magical glow enveloped the object and hauled it out of her line of sight. The gruff voice spoke again.

“What did I say about aiming for the face!? This is dodgeball, not a damn video game or whatever you colts are into these days! Who did this?”

There was silence. Quantum heard the object, which she now assumed to be a ball, bounce away.

“Fine. Then you’re all sitting out the rest of class. Game’s over. Somepony gimmie a hoof over here.”

There was a collective groan from the rest of the voices, all of which sounded to be in various stages of late pubescence. Quantum sought for purchase on the smooth floor as girthy forelegs locked under her shoulders hauled her roughly up. She came muzzle to muzzle with a grizzly, peach colored unicorn stallion with a backwards baseball cap on who smelled like cheap deodorant. The unicorn lit his horn, and Quantum felt her eyelids being raised and lowered one by one as the stallion peered at her.

“You still with me?”

Quantum nodded dully.

“Right in the kisser,” The stallion observed. “Let’s get you to the nurse’s office.”

Quantum felt her upper body being returned to the ground, but she nearly swooned the moment she was back under her own weight. A lighter grasp caught her before the unicorn could – legs pulling her in another direction until she was leaning against something just as warm, but softer than the musculature of the gruff stallion.

“I’ll take him,” A voice accompanied by the honeysuckle blast of juvenile perfume offered.

The stallion raised an eyebrow and glanced at a watch strapped around his foreleg. “Eh, class isn’t over for another twenty minutes…” he reasoned, “…and I ain’t got any backup today…” his attention was back on Quantum. “Alright. I’ll let your coach know where you’re going. Thanks.”

Quantum was obliged to move her legs lest she find herself flat on the floor again. Soon she was walking on three of them, the fourth wrapped around the withers of her benefactor. She squinted, trying to bring reality into focus.

The large room she was in had a domed ceiling, with sunlight pouring through skylights. There were basketball nets, marked hardwood floors, and folding bleachers lining the walls. The gaggle of colts in white jerseys with red trim were smirking at her; making rude comments just barely loud enough to be heard about being led away by a filly. Some were downright scowling at her, as though it were entirely Quantum’s own fault that she had ended their merriment by hitting a ball too hard with her face. The strengthening honeysuckle fragrance mingled with the scent of fresh vomit in her nostrils. The minty mare glanced to her side and got a good look at the pony who had offered to help her off the court.

She was a filly, and not much more than a teenager. Tall and willowy, Quantum was surprised to find this pony could support her so effortlessly - until she noticed the wiry ripples of an elegant, deceptive musculature under the filly’s feminine-cut jersey and her soft, coral pink coat. Her straight, golden harvest mane was tied back in a tight, utilitarian tail by a lavender scrunchie that only the young could get away with wearing in public. Noticing the look, the filly smiled as she pulled Quantum out into the hallway.

“So, are you really hurt?” She grinned conspiratorially, “Or were you just trying to get out of Mister Bankshot’s class for the day? I’ll tell you one thing – with teachers around like him, I’m glad I wasn’t born a colt!”

Quantum tried to follow the laughter as best she could when the filly leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He was in the guard, you know. Like a grunt sergeant or whatever they are. All full of duty and sacrifice and stuff. Everypony says he totally thinks this place is a bootcamp.”

Quantum squinted under the blinding fluorescent lighting from above. “…electric lights…” she muttered. For electric lighting to be in such widespread use as to be in a public school setting (which by now she reasoned this was), it had to mean she couldn’t be any further than a decade or two in the past.

Unless she was in the future.

“What?” The filly looked up, squinted as well, and then stuck out her tongue playfully. “Oh ha ha. Making me stare up at the lights like that! You don’t give up, do you? Even after a ball in the face!”

More sights and sounds came into focus. Quantum became aware that her jersey had a cut to it that matched those the colts were wearing. Her breath smelled horrible, and she instinctively turned away to spare herself the embarrassment. When had she eaten last? Was there even anything in her stomach to come up? Hesitant to use her magic until she knew whether or not she even was a unicorn, she shut her eyes tightly and tried to will the pain in her muzzle to go away, rather than stop to rub it with a hoof.

“Uh, thanks…” she managed, trying to keep from saying or doing anything that might undermine the personality of…whomever she was. “…for the helping hoof.” Her methodical mind cried for answers, but she knew she had to play the game.

The coral-pink filly scrunched her muzzle with annoyance. “Well it’s not like any of your classmates were gonna volunteer. Jerks.” She blew a wayward strand of spun gold out of her face, “Fillies are evil. But so are colts. The only difference is that you guys beat each other up and ask questions later. We just hate you forever until we forget why we hated you in the first place.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Neither way is really any good, is it.”

The statement wasn’t posed as a question, so Quantum just nodded along as the filly tugged her down a different hallway and continued.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” The filly shrugged her shoulders in resignation, “I get the whole ‘physical education’ thing. They want to make sure we’re making healthy life choices. Exercise for the brain and the body. And that’s fine, but for some of us...like you and me-” She was grinning again, “We already know all that, and we already do stuff about it. Making you play dodgeball and hoofball and all that with those punks that are just seeing it as a way to hurt somepony and get away with it just isn’t even fair.”

“We, uh, ah—” Quantum faltered, “We do?”

“Of course we do!” The filly declared. “And they totally know it, too! A little culture, that’s what they need. Why I bet if you—”

The movement of both the filly’s legs and her lips was abruptly halted by the presence of the looming door labeled ‘infirmary’, which broke up the endless line of lockers like mange on a dog’s back.

“Oh. Here we are.” She said nonchalantly. Pushing the door open, she brought Quantum into the type of room that the minty mare was expecting to see.

A small, cluttered space, filled with elementary electronics and diagnostic gear consistent with a high school nurse’s office was bathed in the light of the afternoon by a spray of windows in need of cleaning on the outside. Quantum noticed several bulging filing cabinets and a desk stacked with enough papers to ensure she was indeed in the past – far enough back that the practice of physical record keeping was apparently still in wide use. Two diagnostic beds separated by curtains were built into one wall like an afterthought, while a single, hard examination table waited in the center of the room to send a chill though whatever unsuspecting pony was ordered to brave it. There was a rolling stool as well – upon it sat a wrinkled, overweight, mauve earth mare in a white coat, with spectacles and the headgear of a nurse. The mare didn’t even bother to greet them before gesturing to the examination table.

The filly leading Quantum, who was like a golden dandelion in a sea of crabgrass now, led her right to the table and answered the unasked question on Quantum’s behalf. “He took a ball to the muzzle in gym class.”

The nurse sized up her two visitors with an uncomfortable gaze, then nodded, apparently satisfied that their garb matched their story. The moment Quantum’s rump came in contact with the chilly aluminum of the examination table, the nurse grabbed her under the chin and forced her to stare straight ahead. Quantum could see nothing but the mare’s sagging cheeks until the nurse backed up a bit, held one hoof up and moved it around, obliging Quantum to follow along with her eyes. Side to side, up and down…until the repetitiveness became maddening.

“Who rules Equestria?” The nurse fired off.

Quantum blinked, thrown off by the strange question. She glanced at the unknown filly and received a look that suggested the answer was obvious, so she replied – “Princess Celestia?”

The nurse stopped the infuriating movements of her hoof. “How many hooves am I holding up?”

“One,” Quantum replied smartly, getting the idea now. Foolishly easy questions designed to see if she was disoriented or was suffering from any head trauma.

“Name?” The nurse squawked.

Quantum froze.

“Name?” Came the question again, with far less patience this time.

“I uh…your name?” Quantum stalled.

The nurse frowned. “Your name. Now, please.”

Quantum felt as though a boiling pot of tea had been poured all over her stomach. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two other ponies in the room. Her brain was on alert now, but all her higher reasoning was useless without anything to go on. All she knew so far was her host’s gender. She didn’t even know tribe he belonged to yet.

The nurse sat back, folding her forelegs, her brow creasing like wadded up tissue paper. “You’re not leaving this room until you tell me your name, how old you are, and what grade you’re in, Mister. And if I find out I sent you to the hospital just so you could blow off gym class—”

But Quantum wasn’t listening anymore. Just beyond the gruff practitioner’s meaty shoulder was a small vanity mirror stuck to a bulletin board. She had to squint, but Quantum could just about make out her features. She was clearly a colt, with a burnt-orange coat, a soot-black mane, wings folded at her sides, and…

“…Hal…?”

“Name!!” The nurse thundered. Quantum blurted out the thought that was roaring through her mind like a train to the Crystal Empire.

“H-Halifax….Calavanner.”

The nurse stood by expectantly. Quantum absorbed today’s date from a wall calendar and did the math quickly in her head.

“…sixteen. Sophomore.”

The nurse finally nodded. “I don’t have time for horseplay other than what you’re supposed to be going in class, Mister Calavanner. You’re fine. You just got a bump on the nose. Here-”

The nurse hoofed over a slip of paper. Quantum, feeling as disoriented as when she had first arrived, almost took it with her magic. Instead, she pathetically gripped it in her teeth.

“Pass for the rest of the day,” The nurse explained. “Go straight home and rest. Be back here on time in the morning. If you’re still feeling strange by dinner time, tell your parents to take you to the doctor.”

Quantum found herself back in the hallway again, staring dumbly at the row of lockers on the opposite wall without realizing how she got there. A coral pink hoof waved lazily in front of her face.

“Hey, Hal. You in there?”

Quantum blinked three times, shook her head, and turned her hollow gaze to the filly without a name. Concern flooded the filly’s luscious amber eyes.

“You look really out of it. Maybe you better do what she says and go home. I, uh…” the filly glanced expectantly at a clock on the wall, “I’d walk you home, but we’ve got a quiz in biology today and I really can’t skip it. Think you can handle yourself?”

Quantum nodded dully.

“Okay, well,” The filly turned hesitantly and began slowly trotting away. “I-if you need anything…you know?”

With that, Quantum was alone in the corridor. She approached a locker and stared at her hazy reflection in the polished metal. She touched her cheek. Aside from the lack of frosted blonde tips in his mane, there was no mistaking it.

Hal was staring back at her.

7.2 - Pooky's Egg Navy

May 15, 2030

Stability

Wednesday Evening

It occurred to Quantum as she wandered through orderly streets that she had no idea where she was going. Stumbling about in a daze, she had no books, no effects, and was still dressed in the rumpled jersey that had been clinging to her since she arrived. She hadn’t even thought to look for Hal’s locker.

Somewhere in her wanderings, Quantum had noticed a signpost that read ‘Borough of Stability’. According to the sign, the small hamlet boasted a modest population figure and was approximately twenty miles outside of Fillydelphia. Glancing about, she quickly came to the conclusion that a suburb had never been more aptly named. The afternoon sun of mid-spring glinted over the whitewashed picket fences and finely groomed lawns of cookie-cutter cul-de-sacs, while a pleasant breeze caught and rustled sycamore leaves to a cozy tempo. It was all so perfectly quaint that Quantum felt a small pang of jealousy. In the nurse’s office, she’d guessed correctly about her identity and age, and thus she had to assume this was the environment in which her classmate had spent his most impressionable years. Her own youth in Baltimare felt like a noir crime novel by comparison.

Clarity returned, and questions began to leak into her consciousness. She didn’t have long to wait for answers.

With a whoosh of blinding light that forced only Quantum to shield her eyes, Hal appeared, floating as usual several hooves from the ground on wings that pumped as involuntarily as a beating heart. She noticed the frosted tips in his mane more than ever before, and his fuchsia turtleneck was nearly as blinding as the portal from their own time. Hal was already booping buttons and moving his lips.

“...believe that? I mean at the very least, this time around I can--” he looked up, “...you didn’t hear anything I just said, did you.”

Quantum pensively shook her head.

“I was saying,” Hal spoke with his hoof upturned as though he had a point to make, “That this time around at the very least I can help you get around. Tissy says we’re in Stability. It’s a little suburb not far from Fillydelphia, and guess what?”

Quantum waited.

“This is the town I grew up in!” Hal continued brightly. “We don’t have a fix on the exact year yet, but judging by the look of the place, it can’t be too far in the--”

“May fifteenth,” Quantum interrupted. “Two thousand thirty.”

“--past or future,” Hal considered the new information without having to enter anything onto his keypad. “Huh, whattaya know. I’d have been about...”

“Sixteen,” Quantum cut in again.

“...aaand I was a--”

“Sophomore at Twin Pines Municipal High School,” Quantum completed the thought. “Imagine that.”

Hal scrunched his muzzle and examined Quantum as though seeing her for the first time. “You’re wearing a phys-ed jersey. If you’re a student, you should probably be in class right now.”

“Nope.” Quantum said smartly. “How many times did you get hit in the face with dodgeballs in high school?”

The strange question threw Hal off. He stared at the sky and shrugged. “I dunno. It...happened once or twice. Dodgeball is a rough game.” He flexed his bicep. “You learn to roll with the punches.”

Quantum digested the offerings of the coral-pink mare who had led her to the infirmary. “We have other ways of getting exercise for our bodies than playing dodgeball or hoofball with a bunch of punks that just want an excuse to hurt somepony, Twinklehooves.” She quoted.

Hal blanched. “...where did you hear that?”

Quantum stepped over to a storm drain, where a puddle from a previous rain still lingered. She pointed down at it until Hal was obliged to peer into the reflection the still, clear waters projected. She then mentally counted down the three seconds it took for Hal to go white.

“Wh...wh...what in...what!?”

Every volley of words the burnt-orange pegasus tried to fire off skidded sideways against the armor of absurdity all around him. He assaulted his device with pokes and prods until it emitted chirps of complaint. He didn’t even notice when his wings gave up on him, and his holographic rump failed to disturb the well-manicured grass of the front lawn.

“How...how is this even possible!?” He babbled. “The very fact that you’re here in my body means that something is going to go wrong here that you have to fix, but I have no memory of anything like that happening, but then if I did know something I’m not supposed to know, I might cease to exist, but clearly I haven’t ceased to exist, so everything I know must be right, but I don’t know anything about this to begin with, so I--”

“Poindexter!” Quantum cupped a hoof over her muzzle and shouted. “Stop your brain at the next station! You’re running in circles!”

Hal held his forelegs out in front of him and took a deep breath. Blinking several times, he pushed himself up to his hooves, dusted himself off unnecessarily, and touched his hooves to his temples. “Okay...okay. Back in my happy place.”

Quantum leaned against a tree, still feeling the kick of the ball and the fumes of the flecks of vomit that were now embedded in her collar. She angled her chin at the control device. “What’s Tissy got to say about all this?”

Hal examined his readouts as though it hadn’t yet occurred to him to do so. “Tissy says...you’re me.”

“Keen grasp of the obvious,” Quantum offered drolly.

“And--” Hal continued, “the resonance frequencies of local spacetime in this area suggest that this place is very close to being our actual reality.”

The two ponies stared at one another, each waiting for the other to speak. Quantum broke the silence.

“I met you when we both started at C.A.S. Right now I’d still be living in Baltimare with my mother. So...I guess whatever is going on here has nothing to do with me.”

Hal nodded his agreement. His device beeped, and he glanced down at it. “Tissy says you stink.”

“Tell her so does she!” Quantum stuck out her tongue. Hal rolled his eyes and gestured at his classmate’s ragged outfit.

“You’re going to draw attention to yourself wandering around in a gym uniform during school hours, off of campus, talking to yourself with barf all over you.”

Quantum shrugged dramatically. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

Hal’s eyes shifted both ways down the street. He sighed, chose a direction, and fluttered back into the air. “I’ll show you where I live.”

Ten minutes later, Quantum found herself standing before a gleaming white front door under the well-constructed porch of a split level, complete with a carriage garage and an electric doorbell. Hal gestured encouragingly towards the entrance as he tried to ignore the uncertain look on his own face in the reflection of the windows.

“Just go in and yell ‘I’m home’. I live here, remember? I’ll tell you everything you need to say and do. This’ll be a cinch for once.”

“What’s my excuse for being home early?” Quantum challenged.”

Hal grappled with the question. He looked as though his carefully constructed house of cards had just been blown down.

“Just go straight to my room.”

Quantum took a breath, resigned herself to the most bizarre set of circumstances she’d been through yet, pushed the door open, and made her announcement.

The tiny foyer immediately split into sharp inclines of staircases leading both up and down. Before Quantum could so much as choose which direction to go, a feminine voice called out from upstairs.

“Oh Pooky, did you have trouble in gym class again? Go get yourself cleaned up and Mommy will make you your favorite egg-in-boats!”

“Pooky?” Quantum managed to gag through the convulsions of her stomach as it rolled with the throes of stifled laughter.

“Shut it,” Hal growled. “Upstairs, end of the hall on the left. Do NOT pause when you walk past the kitchen. Mom will talk your ear off clear until dinnertime.”

Quantum obeyed, primarily because she was having a hard time keeping the volcanic torrent of laughter from obliterating the Pompeii of her higher reasoning. Slipping up the stairs and down the hall, she caught the doorknob to Hal’s room in her magic and burst in, shutting the door behind her just in time to collapse into a fit of giggles against it.

“...okay, okay, so--” Quantum fought to catch her breath, “You’ve gotta tell me what ‘egg-in-boats’ is!”

Hal was still phasing through a wall. He had his forelegs crossed and was looking away, the orange cinders of his fluffy cheeks darkening with color. “It’s...come on, you know what it is. It’s a common dish.”

“Common for you maybe,” Quantum put a hoof on her chest to still her breathing. “When I was really little, before we settled down in Baltimare, I used to think Princess Celestia had a rule that one meal every day had to be fast food hayburgers.”

The levity helped to scatter the cloud forming over Hal’s mood. “It’s just a soft-boiled egg with pieces of toast floating in it.” He made a gesture as though his foreleg was floating on a rough sea. “Boats.”

“That sounds like something you’d feed a foal to get them to shut up and eat.”

Hal opened his mouth and shut it again, wide-eyed at the revelation. “I just liked it, that’s all! My mom would never...do that...”

“Uh huh.” Quantum flipped the soiled jersey over her head and tossed it onto the floor, just happy to have it off of her. “So how come you don’t live in Cloudsdale or something?”

“There’s no rule that say all pegasi have to live in Cloudsdale,” Hal replied. “My father is an earth pony, and my mother is...something of a traditionalist. So she followed him into his life rather than the other way around.”

Quantum nodded along, some of the information not knew to her. “Don’t you have a sister?”

“Two sisters,” Hal held up one hoof for each of his siblings. “One older and one younger. I’m the middle child.”

“Ouch,” Quantum observed.

“You have no idea,” Hal laughed, finally flitting into the room proper. Hovering over his own unmade bed, he held his forelegs akimbo and spun around slowly in mid-air. “Well, you might as well take it all in. Those words you said earlier - you could only have heard them from one pony, and you’re about to understand why she said all that.”

Quantum took in the room. It had the expected musty, juvenile masculine scent to it. Unlike Hal who usually kept himself in good order, the room was surprisingly haphazard. There were pieces of science projects and equipment littering the desk and the floor in equal measure, mixing with books and laundry that hadn’t found its way to the hamper yet. She soft, smoky gray of the walls was broken up by a number of posters depicting famous Maretonian ballet dancers, both male and female. These, more than anything, caught and kept Quantum’s attention.

“You do ballet?” She asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Hal was scratching at the back of his neck, still floating in mid-air. “What?”

“W-well,” Quantum balked, “I just meant...” searching for a way out of the corner she had spoken herself into, she turned her attention to the mirror hanging on the back of Hal’s door - simply looking into it as a subtle way to point out Hal’s portly frame.

“Hey.” Hal said simply. “Everypony used to tell me my cutie mark was gonna be a quartet of dancing shoes or a top hat, or something.”

Quantum tilted her head at the revelation. “Really? That’s more than just a passing interest, isn’t it?”

Hal, his toasty-orange cheeks flushed again, gave in to the inevitable and floated down to ‘sit’ on the foot of his own bed without disturbing the covers. “...yeah. It was. And it was more than just ballet. Jazz, tap, ballroom...all that. When the time came to choose between dancing and science, well...” he smiled wanly, “You know which one I picked.” He glanced down at the atom symbol on his flank, emblazoned over a field of argyle that looked as though it were sewn directly into his coat. “My cutie mark apparently agreed.”

Quantum folded her forelegs and stood there, her eyes back on the posters. “So who was she?”

“Who was who?”

“You know who I’m talking about,” Quantum huffed, the wheels of logic turning furiously in her brain. “It all makes sense now. That filly who helped me out today is a dancer. That’s what she was talking about when she was complaining about having to go to gym class at all. And she clearly knows you. So when you chose science--” Realizing that she was probably about to strike a chord, Quantum lowered her voice, respectfully attempting to take a little of the eureka out of the revelation. “You didn’t choose her.”

Hal only nodded, examining a pile of dirty laundry. “...yep.”

“What’s her name?”

Hal hesitated.

“Hal--” Quantum turned sharply. Her companion winced, expecting to be either made fun of or chastised, but Quantum kept a softness in her voice. “I need to know these things if I’m gonna do...whatever it is I’m gonna do here.”

Hal nodded more times than was necessary. “Right, right, of course...” After another pause, he finally offered: “Twitter Step. Call her Twit.”

Quantum made a face. “I’d smack somepony who called me that.”

“It’s a pet name!” Hal welcomed a small burst of laughter at his friend’s expense. “I mean come on, you know how it is when you’re young, and you meet a filly, and she’s cute, and--”

“Not really, no.” Quantum cut him off, pushing her interphased glasses up on her muzzle with a quick snap of her magic. Hal looked smug.

“Oh yes you do. You can claim anything you want about which way your tail swings, but you’ve been a stallion before. Don’t tell me you weren’t into Cozy Hearth. You spent a whole night in the sheets with her three years and four vaults ago!”

Frazzled, Quantum waved her forelegs so dramatically she nearly took out a microscope that was poised at the precipice of Hal’s desk. “It wasn’t like that! I was just playing the part! You said yourself it might be dangerous to sway too far out of character, and Draw Out was a total mareinizer!”

“Mmhm. That’s today’s excuse.”

“Where you watching!?” Quantum stuck her hoof right through her best friend’s holographic face. “That’s technological brutality!”

Hal was the one who could barely contain himself now. “R-relax...” he sputtered through chuckles, “...relax! I didn’t peek! You told me not much happened anyway, remember?”

Quantum skulked away. “...because there are certain parts of the pony anatomy I can’t just fake, get me?”

“You’d better change your mind about that,” Hal replied. Quantum turned, about to lay into her classmate for his boldness, until she noticed he was pointing at a mirror. She glanced into it. Saw herself...himself. Wings folded tightly at her sides.

“My older sister and I used to be competitive with one another,” Hal explained. “We did three laps between the nearest cloud and the yard every night before dinner. It’s gonna look weird if I suddenly refuse.”

Quantum felt her stomach doing Pilates in her chest. She tried flexing her shoulder blades, but her new wings didn’t so much as twitch. “...no way. I’m not a pegasus. I don’t even have wing spurs! I don’t fly!”

Hal waved the panic off and took out his device. “We can deal with that later. Right now we have to figure out what’s going on here.” He typed. Studied his readouts. His ears fell.

Quantum’s instinct was to demand information, but the sullen look on her friend’s face quieted her. This was his life she was messing with. She sat on the bed and waited patiently for Hal to control the explanation.

Hal clutched the device to his chest. “...well, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Tissy says that...” his eyes shifted around the room. “There’s a dance next week. At school. Go with Twit.”

Quantum looked skeptical. “That’s it? Just go with her to a dance?”

“That’s most certainly not ‘it!’” Hal scolded. “Can you dance?”

Quantum didn’t reply.

“That’s what I thought. I’ve been dancing since before I was out of diapers. This isn’t something you can just learn overnight like how to swing your hips the right way when you walk. And on top of that, three-fifths of my family can fly! We’re gonna have to figure something out before they start wondering what the heck is wrong with you--with me.”

“Wait,” Quantum thought aloud. “You didn’t go to this dance with Twitter before, did you?”

“No,” Hal admitted.

“...then wouldn’t I be changing history if I go with her now?”

Hal was silent for a moment, watching the late afternoon sun kiss the treetops outside. “You’re supposed to fix the past. Not just keep the status quo.”

Quantum’s train of thought thundered on. “You don’t know that. We’ve just been making educated guesses with the available data all this time, haven’t we? Besides, how do you know that going to that dance will fix anything? Is there anything wrong with your past the way you know it?”

“It would,” Hal offered soberly, “Because it was the biggest mistake of my life. I dunno if I would have ended up with her if we’d gone to that dance. We’d always been friends. I wanted more...I don’t even know if she did. But dammit--” He suddenly turned and fixed her with a glare, “I should have gone. This isn’t about ‘getting the filly’, Cutie. It’s about following through. About doing something you say you’re going to do and sticking with it. You know why I didn’t go? Because to me, it was the next step in our relationship. And...I got cold hooves.” Hal paused to swallow before continuing. “I made a dumb excuse and stayed home. We were still friends until graduation...but that was it. It never went beyond that. I lost touch with her, went on to C.A.S., and to this day I don’t know if I have the guts to come through when the going gets rough. So if I had to venture a guess?” He paused to collect himself, “That’s what you’re ‘fixing’. My faith in myself.”

Quantum didn’t know what to say. She had never thought of her pudgy friend as somepony who had misgivings about his own abilities. She offered the only comment she could.

“You’ve never failed me.”

Awkwardness permeated the room, until Quantum finally added: “Thanks for confiding all this in me.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I,” Hal replied.

“Pooky!” A voice that was distinctively Hal’s mother rang out from the hall. “Ship’s pulling out of port!”

Quantum snickered. Hal did too.

“Go eat,” Hal encouraged. “I’ll help you through whatever comes.”

Quantum smiled, renewed with vigor for her new mission in time. She tilted her head, smiled conspiratorially, and moved to the door. “Hooves in the game.”

Hal’s smile vanished the moment Quantum turned away.

7.3 - Dance Math Fever

May 15, 2030

Stability – Calvanner Residence

Wednesday Night

True to his word, Hal guided his charge through every curve and twist in the politics of the Calavanner household. Quantum played up her unfortunate encounter with a dodgeball to Hal’s mother until the middle-aged mare insisted her poor son not exert himself for the rest of the day – effectively eliminating the threat of a wing-race with Hal’s elder sister. With her ace in the hole floating beside her, Quantum waltzed through dinner conversations with Hal’s father about school, fended off challenges in everything from video games to ping-pong from Hal’s older sister, and even managed to win an argument with his younger sister while managing to come off as a wise elder brother to everypony else. By the time she was finally dismissed to bed, Quantum felt like she could do anything.

“Did you see that?” The minty mare beamed, spinning on the stool that complimented Hal’s writing desk. “You should have let me play your sister in Hay Invaders! I’m a crack shot!”

“Keep it in the stable Cutie,” Hal couldn’t help but smile along with Quantum’s enthusiasm. “You might be good at that game, but I suck at it. She was just trying to bait you. And it would have looked weird if I suddenly kicked her tail at it.”

Quantum waved her hoof dismissively. “Oh relax. I’d have taken a dive!”

Hal just shook his head and took to inspecting his own closet by the simple expedient of phasing his face straight through the door. “Yeah, no. Not with as pumped up as you were.” He made a face nopony could see, “Dang, did I always keep my closet to messy?”

Quantum giggled. “I dunno, you tell me!”

Hal pulled his face out of the door and glanced over his shoulder. “You know something? I can’t remember the last time I heard you giggle like that.”

Hal’s brand new smile evaporated quickly when he noticed Quantum had abandoned her perch on the stool in favor of poking around under his bed. With a grunt and a tug, she partially unearthed an unassuming cardboard box and took immediately to peering past the loosely folded flaps at whatever treasures might be inside.

“What’s in here?”

“H-hey!!” Hal was suddenly looming atop the bed, hooves on his hips. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s impolite to snoop!?”

Quantum looked up, honest curiosity turning to coy amusement. “As a matter of fact, she did. But isn’t this my stuff? If I’m gonna be you, shouldn’t I strive to learn all I can?”

“There’s nothing to learn in there!!” Hal insisted. “Just listen to me and do what I tell you to do!”

A soft magical glow bled into life around the box as Quantum sat up, grinning playfully. “So what’s in here that’s so secret, huh?”

Hal was suddenly acutely aware of his inability to affect the world around him. He sighed and bowed to the inevitable. “Teenage colt stuff. I realize you didn’t have any brothers, but do I really need to say more?”

Quantum made a face, her magic roughly stuffing the box back from whence it came. “Ew.”

“All colts have a box!” Hal blurted. “It would be weirder if there wasn’t a box! Don’t judge me. You probably had a filly box or something.”

“Filly b-b--!” Quantum blushed, “There’s no such thing!”

“That’s what your kind all want us to believe,” Hal teased. Pleased that he had turned the conversation back on his nosy companion, he flitted over to the window and glanced down, as though he were looking for something outside. “Anyway, come on. It’s time to go.”

“Go?” Quantum checked the clock and stifled a yawn. “It’s nearly midnight. I got hit in the face, barfed on myself, and had to pretend to be you all day. The only place I’m going is bed!” She stood before Hal’s bed on her hind legs and made as if to collapse upon it, but the true owner of her resting place suddenly rose through the mattress like a ghost, right into her path. Quantum yelped and threw herself to the side, her head impacting firmly with the bedpost.

“Owwwww!” She complained. “Why is it so hard to remember that you’re not really there!?”

“Cutie,” Hal was up in the air again without pause, “Maybe I’m not getting through to you, but you have to learn to be a dancer – a good one – in just a few days. And I bet I don’t even have to ask if you have four left hooves, do I.”

Quantum rubbed her head. Simmering, she only nodded.

“You took a nap an hour ago. You can take another one before school in the morning. You’re not even going to need your brain in class because let’s face it – its general high school education and you’re a brilliant C.A.S. student. So get up,” Hal was already phased partway through the door to the hall, “we’re going out to the backyard. Quietly.”

Quantum reluctantly obeyed.

The back yard of the Calavanner residence bore little difference from the front yard, or as far as Quantum could tell, any other yard that existed in the Borough of Stability. A picketed privacy fence marked off an immaculately mowed, rectangular lawn – the grass still crisp with the damp remains of a light shower that had passed through over dinner. One large tree near the back of the property sported a tire swing and a small tree fort, while a swing set off to one side was scattered with myriad discarded toys. Hedge bushes that seemed to serve little purpose were crammed up against the inside of the obscuring fence. The bright glow of the full moon bathed everything in Luna’s grace such that even Quantum, with her challenged sight, could make out every detail. She stopped in the middle of the yard and looked down at her damp hooves.

“Where?”

“Where?” Hal repeated. “Here!”

“…right here?” Quantum clarified, pointing down at the wetness.

”Right here.” Hal confirmed. He then lowered himself to the ground and went through a flourish of stretches using an invisible wall Quantum assumed was a portion of the holographic projection chamber. She found herself staring dumbfounded at the grace her pudgy friend showed in his practiced movements.

Hal grunted and puffed, limbering himself until he noticed his new student merely standing around looking as though she were lost in the light of an oncoming train. “Hey,” he frowned, “You’re gonna find out what four simultaneous charley horses feel like if you don’t stretch first. Just do what I’m doing.” With that, he went back through his drills again, this time slower and with an eye for the scrawny unicorn beside him.

Quantum survived the warm-up routine with all four hooves still on the ground and a new appreciation for the plight of the dancer. She could feel her heart thumping and her lungs already beginning to pump as Hal reared up, snapping his fetlocks into a sharp first ballet position. “Alright, so.”

“So.”

The two ponies out-of-time stared blankly at one another until Hal huffed out a breath and spread his forelegs.

“Like this.”

The pudgy pegasus swept every tweed fiber of his sky blue and mottled white turtleneck up in an allegro of plies, arabesques, pirouettes, and long, spirited leaps that carried him across the yard as though he were inside the low-gravity simulator Quantum once experienced at a C.A.S. public science expo. Quantum tried made a meager attempt to follow the lively movements, but drew the line at the sailing jumps.

“That’s not fair,” She complained. “You’re gliding on your wings. I can’t use your wings, remember?”

“Oh,” Hal landed with perfect poise. “Right.” He glanced back at Quantum as though she’d only just arrived, “So…how’s it going? Are you getting it?”

Quantum rested her forehead in one hoof and sighed. “In senior year of high school, they made us all do a leadership exercise where we had to lead a group of students from a lower grade in an exercise as if we were the professor. Did you have something like that in your school?”

Hal nodded obliviously.

“Did you pass?”

Hal cleared his throat, catching on now, “…Ds are still passing grades.”

Quantum rolled her eyes to the heavens. “We’re dead. That’s it, we’re just dead. This is never going to work. Civilization-ending tsunamis, switchblade-wielding thug-lords, and psychotic ponymerges? No problem. Dancing? We’re just dead.”

Hal, caught up in his art now, pranced around the mare in his body and cocked his eyebrow as though he intended to sweep her into a tango with a rose in his mouth. “Oh stop complaining. You’ll get it. We just need to find your groove, that’s all.”

As late night bled into the wee hours of the morning, Quantum did indeed find her groove. She wore one into the dirt, and it was shaped uncannily like her face. When she finally lost count of the bruises, she bucked the yard’s only tree in a fit of frustration and received a walnut right between the ears for her trouble.

“Ugh! Enough!” Quantum slammed the tree a second time just to get even with it, “I can’t dance, Hal! We’re gonna have to try something else!”

Hal sighed. By now, he knew that soft encouragement only went so far with his easily-frustrated friend. Sometimes you just had to be blunt. “Fine. We’ll go up on the roof. You jump off and break my legs. This time I’ll have an excuse not to go to the dance, and you can enjoy the agony. Would that be better?”

Cowed, Quantum let out a breath and rested her minty hoof against the tree. “I’m sorry. But this isn’t working. Dancing just isn’t my thing.”

She glanced at Hal’s house. His neighborhood. His life.

Her ears flattened.

“…I really am sorry, Hal. I’m failing you…and I don’t know what I can do about it.”

Hal, who by now had liberated himself from the heat of his turtleneck, sat in the grass, lost in thought. He remained that way for two whole minutes until a fire that rivaled Celestia’s morning rise into the heavens lit up his features. He was back on his hooves again in a flash.

“Then we’ll do something that is your thing.”

Before she could question the change in her friend’s mood, Quantum found herself descending into the Calavanner’s finished basement, under orders to retrieve a plastic container marked ‘flooring’. She returned to the yard, levitating the surprisingly light tote in the glow of her magic.

“Since when does ‘flooring’ weigh as much as a pile of pillows?” She finally asked, setting the box down in the dew.

Hal’s grin was broad. “Open it.”

In the plastic tote, Quantum discovered a neatly packed pile of foam rubber panels, each only a few hooves square and all bearing a single digit from zero to nine. There were several dozen of them, textured for grip, and designed such that they could be fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Why am I staring at play flooring for nurseries?” Quantum asked, the furrow in her brow taking all sarcasm out of the question.

“Basic arithmetic for my little sister,” Hal noted. “And salvation for you. Set ‘em up exactly the way I tell you to.”

Bewildered, Quantum went through the tedious task of laying the tiles out in no pattern she could discern, until much of the yard was peppered with flat squares of foam rubber. She stood among them, totally lost, as if she had been asked to search the entire yard for a contact lens in the dark.

“What are we doing?” She finally asked. “Shouldn’t we be coming up with some excuse why I can’t dance?”

“Do you trust me?” Hal fired off the strange question with an intensity in his eyes that took Quantum aback.

“…sure I do.”

“Then do exactly what I say.” He reared up into position, clicking his fetlocks into place. “First position. Stand on the three.”

Quantum took up the dancer’s stance and did as she was told.

“Solve pi to six digits!” Hal cried.

“What?”

“Do it! NOW!” Hal barked. “And you’re not allowed to touch the grass!”

As though she had been lashed, Quantum scanned the ground for the number one, leapt desperately to it, spun around to the number four, and proceeded to gyrate through the air in a series of twists and turns until she came back to the one and moved on to the five, the nine, and the two. She landed with her forelegs outstretched to maintain her balance, huffing out breaths more from shock than exertion. Her ears, and eventually the rest of her head, swiveled in the direction of a single pair of clapping hooves.

“Niiiice arabesque!” Hal observed. Before Quantum could react, he bellowed, “Terminal velocity in meters per second!”

Quantum’s mind tore through the elementary formula so quickly that her body hopped to the nine and then leapt to the eight with barely a hint conscious control.

“A leap worthy of MikHay Baleyshnikov!” Hal critiqued. “Prime numbers!”

Quantum felt a soft smile grace her cheeks. She moved without fail, hopping in upon the two, the three, the five, the seven, and on. As a filly suffering through the abysmal results of her mother’s first magic lessons, she found comfort in the one thing that could never intimidate her – calculations, equations, and the numbers that made them. The lightness and energy that flowed through her limbs was borne of that early love she had long held for mathematics. Rent from chains of self-doubt, her unfettered heart launched into movements she had no name for until she felt she could soar twice as high as Cloudsdale itself.

By the time Hal had moved from calculus to temporal physics, Quantum barely felt her hooves anymore. Eyes closed, she felt the whipping of her seagreen mane around her cheeks as she devoured the familiar comfort of science and wrote down the answers; her body the quill and the yard her parchment. When she finally had to stop for breath, she looked up to find Hal’s applauding again. This time, it was thunderous.

“Do you know what you just did!?” He cackled. Quantum looked back at the number panels, damp with dew. Some had been kicked out of their original positions.

“…no?” She answered honestly.

“Sleeping Filly”, Hal replied smartly.

Quantum gaped at the mention of a ballet so famous even she knew its name. “Horse hockey,” She said skeptically.

“I’m not kidding!” Hal insisted, joy alone enough to send him hovering six hooves above the ground again. “Granted that was a pretty simple bit of background dance, but you nailed it!”

Quantum caught her breath and rose to her full unimpressive height, still staring at the silent panels in disbelief. “It was just because you were prompting me the whole time,” She reasoned aloud. Hal only laughed.

“I stopped talking ten minutes ago! Once I got you going on a set of ascending black hole geometry equations, you kept solving the series by yourself!” He flitted over and ‘rested’ his hoof on Quantum’s diminutive shoulder. “And I gotta say. Once you get over yourself and really break out of your shell? You’re a sight to see.”

Quantum felt herself blushing again. She looked away, clearing her throat several times before speaking, “But this isn’t ballet. It’s like painting by numbers. With math. Dance math.”

Hal shrugged. “Does that matter? If we work it from this angle, we can make this happen! You just have to do it your own way, that’s all.”

Quantum finally found her smile. She cocked an eyebrow and pushed her glasses up on her muzzle again with her magic. “The last time I did things my own way I nearly caused an apple famine. You didn’t seem so happy about it back then.”

Hal closed his eyes and shook his head, his soft smile never wavering. “Part of the magic of friendship is respecting the right of others to change their opinion.”

Quantum found herself with nothing to say. Both of their ears swiveled at the single chirp of an early bird that was casing the grass for a meal. Luna still graced the sky, but she had passed her apex and her descent was now in full force.

“Go get some rest,” Hal ordered. “Chemistry should be first period tomorrow. I was good at that even back in high school, so just go straight to room 301, ace it like it wasn’t a thing, and I’ll see you in between classes. My locker is just outside that room.” His smile was a bastion in the ebbing tide of night. “If I have to completely rewrite the greatest ballets in Equestrian history in binary code, we’re gonna get through this.”

Quantum let out a yawn faster than she could stifle it. To say it had been a long day was an understatement, and her rapidly draining adrenaline was sapping the strength from her legs. “Hal…thanks.”

Hal shook his head. “Thank you.”

He entered a sequence on his device, and the door to 2039 blasted the air with an icy knife of white light as it opened. “Just…do this for me. That’s all I ask.”

Quantum watched the light fade.

Of course she would.

…why would he even say that?

7.4 - Tap it Up

May 16, 2030

Stability - Twin Pines Municipal High School

Thursday

On her first day in the sleepy borough of Stability, Quantum had managed to get hit in the face with a dodgeball, throw up on herself, navigate uncomfortable social faux-pas, and learn to dance the way foals learned to paint - by number.

Her second day felt like the rebirth of a phoenix.

Armed with the cheat-code that was her best holographic friend, Quantum slipped into the social scene at Twin Pines Municipal High School as smoothly as foam through a macchiato. Totally ignorant of the rueful glances of the social hierarchy, she aced chemistry, mathematics, and political science. She dodged a bullet in social studies when the poor colt next to her was called on to recite all the capitals of the various city-states in ancient feudal Saddle-Arabia. With Hal’s bookbag at her side, she flopped down at the end of the first available table in the cafeteria to fish around for the lovingly-packed plastic lunchbox in colors so garish, she began to understand where Hal’s penchant for gaudy turtlenecks came from. She was halfway through her liverwurst and swiss on rye before she noticed the eight stallions at the table. They were all wearing caps with their hoofball team numbers on them. And they weren’t eating.

“...whuff?” Quantum stared, crumbs leaking from her famished maw. The eyes of one of the burlier earth colts narrowed.

“This is a hoofball table,” the youth threatened.

“Scram!” Another jeered, “You got the geeks OR the fillies to choose from, Twinklehooves!”

“Tch, yeah right,” A third cut in, “He’d rather be a filly than pick them up!”

Quantum felt her anger boiling in the face of the raucous laughter that was drawing attention from the other tables. She was just about to tell every last member of the hoofball team’s starting lineup that she wouldn’t date a single one of them if they were the last ponies on earth, when a gentle tap at her shoulder became a rough grip. Spinning, her quivering lips were silenced only by the unexpected visage of Hal’s elder sister Gloryrise, who was staring her down with a firm look that went well outside the bounds of sibling rivalry.

“Hal, knock it off,” Gloryrise muttered under her breath. “Come and sit with me.”

“B-but--”

Glory cut Quantum off with a firm pomfing of her proud wings. The fierceness of Glory’s glare, coupled with her considerable height and proud poise, was enough to encourage Quantum to begrudgingly shove her meal back into Hal’s bag and rise from the table.

Quantum found herself at another table to the tune of the cackling jocks before she could get a word in edgewise. She glanced sidelong at the fillies at the other end of the new table, who were now staring at her. She blushed and went about rummaging around for the rest of her meal.

“What was that all about?” Glory questioned, also digging through her less juvenile bag for sustenance. “Since when do you pick a fight with half the hoofball team?”

“Pick a fight!?” Quantum stammered, “I was just sitting there! They were the ones picking the fight, and I was ready to give it to them!”

Gloryrise had a look on her face that made her appear disturbingly similar to Hal’s doting mother. She reached out and ruffled Quantum’s mane too roughly. “Yeah, and that’s gonna mean a lot to you after you end up with two black eyes and a broken foreleg.” The crisp corners of her smile wilted. “Be more careful where you sit.”

Indignant for her friend, Quantum didn’t give an inch. “Why? Because I like to dance I can’t sit wherever I want? It’s a free school isn’t it?”

Glory lowered her voice and drew in close from the other side of the table, beckoning with her hoof. Quantum, expecting to hear a secret, leaned in...and yelped when Hal’s sister summarily bapped her muzzle instead.

“You know that, and I know that, but you know how it is around here Hal, and...” Glory groaned. “Oh please, I don’t have to explain this to you. Just please don’t do that again, okay? I don’t wanna have to peel your face off the sidewalk or something.”

Quantum inspected Hal’s elder sister and wondered why she, of all ponies, would say such a thing. Glory was a tall, fit senior who carried herself with a countenance that suggested she would have stood her ground against more than a mere half of the hoofball team. The curl of her luscious mane around her left eye put a cunning twist in her smile, to the point that it wouldn’t take much effort to make herself look intimidating.

Unless she was simply trying to...protect her little brother.

“Here,” Glory pushed a small round container across the table. “You forgot your boats.”

Quantum stared down at the little container. Her mind began to wander into thoughts of what a room-temperature soft-boiled egg with pieces of toast in it would taste like, until she soon realized that she had little choice but to open it and find out.

“Eat up,” Glory chided playfully. “You’re not gonna be worth my time to race later if you don’t have any energy. Plus you have dance after this right? I’ll give you one thing - I dunno how you all handle that on a full stomach.”

Quantum looked up. “Wait...what?”

“What?” Glory repeated. “I said dance class. How you handle dance class right after you eat. It’s like the cruelest scheduling joke possible, isn’t it?”

Quantum stiffened. “Dance...class? I have to go to dance class?”

“Unless you want to flunk and go back to your comic books and long division. Nopony ever knows with you. You should just pick something and make mom and dad stop wondering what you wanna do with your life. But if you ask me?” She grinned and reached out to prod Quantum’s chest. “I think you ought to stick with it. You’re darn good at it, you could use the exercise, and science is boring. Plus that one filly in your class is totally into you. You’re a colt. Don’t tell me you don’t like that idea.”

“I uh...um...” Quantum felt the butterflies in her stomach tickling away any words she tried to employ. The conversation was one thing, but her thoughts were caught up in the idea of dancing in front of a class. And with a full stomach, to boot.

“Come on, eat already. Lunch is almost over.”

Quantum located the back hall of the gymnasium with a flatness in her step and the taste of room-temperature eggs on her lips. The main gymnasium, where she had been playing dodgeball the day before, opened into a well-lit hallway with a number of doors. Each of these led into smaller rooms dedicated either to storage, or a physical pursuit other than sports that had somehow made it into the curriculum.

The layout of the narrow ‘dance room’ was unsurprising. One long wall of windows shed the afternoon light upon a smooth hardwood floor and an opposite wall that was composed entirely of floor to ceiling mirrors. Mounted before the mirrors was a balance bar, raised to waist height and presiding over a number of rolled up tumbling mats that were most likely storage overflow. An antiquated record player on a student desk provided the cadence for practice.

Also crammed in the room were no less than fifteen fillies in various stages of warm up and dance practice. Quantum swallowed.

“Psst!” A familiar voice hissed. Quantum turned to the mirrors, saw nothing, and jolted when she turned back around to find Hal floating there before her.

“You don’t have to keep your voice down,” Quantum muttered softly. “Nopony can hear you. And...get a reflection or something.”

“Listen,” Hal continued to whisper, ignoring his classmate’s complaints, “I’ve got this. When I started at C.A.S. I brought an old high school notebook with me because there was still space in it. I found an old schedule in it. You’re gonna be doing tap today.”

Quantum rolled her eyes dramatically. “Tap? We didn’t practice tap! And I’ve got a belly full of your weird egg boat thingies that were so cold they felt like eating snot! There’s no way I’m gonna--”

“Snot?”

Quantum’s tirade was cut short by familiar, coral pink muzzle that simply emerged from Hal’s face as though his entire body were a mere costume. Twitter Step, her honeysuckle fragrance as strong as ever and her grin unnervingly confident, stepped straight through her former dance partner to address her current one with a wrinkle in her muzzle.

“Eww. Why are you talking about snot?”

Quantum’s eyes were pulled back by Twitter’s piercing stare whenever they began to dart around. “I was, uh...just saying I...um...snot...I...”

Quantum felt the web she was attempting to weave unravel like wet spaghetti. Hal flitted above the conversation and rested his forehead in one hoof, sighing dramatically enough to make himself heard by the only pony present who was capable of hearing him. To the minty mare’s relief, Twitter Step only giggled.

“You’re such a weirdo sometimes. Come dance with me.”

“With you?” Quantum suddenly felt thick with confusion, “Isn’t tap dancing a solo thing?”

“Oh for--!” Hal nearly swooned, “Cutie, haven’t you ever heard of--”

“Couples tap dancing, silly!” Twitter finished the thought for the hologram. “You’re not getting out of it just by playing dumb either. Come on, get your shoes on!”

Quantum let out a yelp as the deceptively strong young dancer looped a foreleg in hers and dragged her over towards a small row of lockers, each labeled with the name of a student. She opened the appropriate little metal cubby and set about nabbing the first of four hoof-coverings with metal horseshoes nailed to the bottom in her magic. Hal was by her side in an instant, making a furious cut-throat gesture.

“Ixnay on the magic-ay!” He warned.

The light went out abruptly and Quantum began the painstakingly annoying task of shoeing all four of her limbs. She hunched her body over on the small provided bench to focus her whispers away from the students.

“Hal, I have no idea how to tap dance! I’m gonna take a header into this locker and go home!”

“Like hell you are,” Hal scoffed. “Look at me.”

When Quantum stubbornly refused to take her attention from her work, Hal’s holographic face suddenly emerged right from the locker. He continued.

“You’re gonna be fine. Think of this like a science project, and when have you ever walked away from a science project? Watch this--”

Hal spread his wings to their full span and took to the air. Booping a few buttons on his device, he turned it upside down and held it as close to the ceiling as possible. A moment later Quantum found herself unable to look at him due to a blinding beam of red light emitting from the tip of the colorful little box. She was about to ask what purpose blinding her would serve when her eyes caught the mirrored wall, and then turned to the floor. Every single divided plank of the hardwood dance floor was now marked with a projected number made entirely from red light.

“Like I said before,” Hal spoke up, “You and me, we’re really smart. But, Tissy? She’s a technological savant. She made this modification overnight, and I happen to know you can memorize numbers faster than a computer. You’ve got about half a minute to learn this floor. Then all you gotta do is follow what I call out.”

Quantum clattered out onto the floor in her new shoes, desperately filling her brain with the position of every digit. Even for her the task was a challenge, but she was determined not to fail when Hal’s future was on the line. It took fifteen distracted seconds for her to bowl over the nearest dancer in the already crowded room. A moment later, she was buried under a pileup of fillies, in mock travesty of the wildest dreams of any teenage colt. Flailing and gasping for breath against the constant undulations of coats and rumps, a familiar pink foreleg wrapped around hers and dragged her from the fray.

Quantum felt Twitter’s hoof on her forehead as if to check for fever. “Are you sure that ball didn’t scramble your brain?”

“I, uh, err...” Quantum wilted under the accusatory stares of the dancing high school fillies in various stages of untying their limbs from one another. “Sorry, I guess...maybe I’m still not feeling so hot?” She found herself going there despite Hal’s warning. Anything to get out of this mortifying scene. She let out a breath. Now all she would have to do is sit it out, or maybe even go home--

“You’re right, you aren’t!” Twitter sang, “And the best medicine to forget your troubles is dancing!”

Another tall filly in legwarmers and a headband leaned up against the balance pole. “Yeah Hal, show us how its done, huh? You and Twit have like the best grades in class!”

Quantum flashed the real Hal a damning stare.

“Yeah Hal!” Another filly with a workout suit called excitedly, “Cut a rug!”

Quantum found herself swirling in a wind of colorful fillies until the dance floor was empty, Hoofloose was playing on the phonograph, and Twitter Step was striking a pose right in front of her. The pink filly grinned broadly and bowed her head just enough to let a wayward strand of golden mane slip over her eye.

“Let’s show ‘em how its done.”

Quantum had no time to argue.

“Thirty-four!” Hal shouted. “Eighteen! Twenty-seven! Three!”

With no mind for flair, Quantum rapped her hooves loudly in time with the auction-calls from above. What she lacked in style she made up for with the sheer pigheaded determination that had carried her through every hurdle in her life - up until the decision that cost her what was left of it back home. The result was a dance that was so bizarrely unique, the rest of the class couldn’t help but think of it as the opus of a more talented star.

The pair kicked and beat out their rhythm in a swirling melee of percussion, Twitter taking over the lead at the assumption that her knowledgeable partner was just offering her extra practice. Quantum covered for every mistake by riding the coattails of Hal’s reputation. When the two came together, Twitter caught the scrawny, minty mare in her forelegs, dipped her...

...and kissed her full on the lips.

A rouse of catcalls punctuated the end of the song. When Twitter finally let Quantum up for air, the dazed and confused older mare sunk to the floor flat on her back, gazing up at her dance partner with a look of bewildered stupidity as the bell for class went off.

Twitter Step licked her lips and traded cunning grins with those among her classmates who were bold enough to congratulate her. She smiled down just before disappearing into the crowd.

“And that’s how it’s done,” She called. “I totally win!”

As the mingling fillies began to disperse to their next classes, Quantum sat up and took to pumping air through her lungs.

“You’re blushing,” Hal observed.

“Shut up,” Quantum growled. “You didn’t tell me you were the best dancer in class.”

“So?” Hal grinned, “When you have a reputation, everything counts as art! Even that...weird thing you did!”

“How are the numbers?” Quantum rolled her eyes and sought to change the subject. Curiously, Hal didn’t look at his device. He merely waved a hoof dismissively and smiled.

“They’re fine. Keep this up and this whole vault will be a cinch. You’ll be on your way in a couple days, and...you’ll really be doing something huge for me, Cutie.” He paused, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Hal, why--”

The bell rang again.

“Get to class,” Hal chimed, floating back up into the air. He fell in with the retreating Twitter Step, who had a bag slung over her shoulder and was giving Quantum the eye on her way out. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Quantum sat in thought until she was almost late for next period.

7.5 - Pretty Pony Liars

May 23, 2030

Stability

Friday

Quantum’s week in the Borough of Stability progressed like a jump-cut. Picking up the ropes faster than ever before in any vault, she built on Hal’s cues until she could pre-empt what he would say next, and laughed with him while learning about his life from a perspective nopony could hope to match in another. A well-oiled machine, their teamwork was enough to skate through classes, weasel out of flying with daily excuses that stuck, and, most importantly, retain the interest of a certain coral pink filly. By Friday night, Quantum was standing before a mirror in Hal’s bedroom, fixing the bow tie around her neck by way of his reflection.

“…steppin’ out, with my baby,” Quantum sang just below her breath as she posed before the mirror, “can’t go wrong cause blah blah blah…smooth sailin’ cause I’m blah blah something…with my top hat, and my white tie, and my tails…”

The real Hal stared into the mirror with a look of childlike bewilderment. “I’m never gonna get used to this. It’s like watching a movie of myself from a decade ago. Only cooler.”

Quantum let out a lighthearted laugh that up until a few days ago was uncharacteristic of her. She peered over the shoulder of her reflection, remembered that holograms don’t show up in mirrors, and turned to offer her friend a confident grin.

“Just relax and enjoy the show tonight. I’ll be out of here in a couple hours and who knows? Maybe we’ll be talking about this back home tomorrow.”

Hal lifted a brow. “You know I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this cocky, Cutie. What are you even basing that on, the idea that the next vault will just—“ he made a wooshing sound by blowing air through his cheeks, “—take you right back home?”

Quantum peered back into the mirror, changing her expression several times just to watch the younger Hal match her every movement. “What more can fate put me through, right? I’ve been colts, stallions, mares, nags—been nearly killed several times, saved lives, made things right, learned skills I never had before on the fly…” She pulled the corner of one lip, “What else is there? Maybe this vault is like…a victory lap or something.”

Hal floated over to his own desk and nodded at the clock. “You don’t even know that’s how this works. Heck, we really don’t know how any of this works. Every second you spend blipping around through realities like this could make for its own groundbreaking research paper into a science I don’t even think we have a name for yet. And do you really think you’re just going to waltz back into 2039 and just be forgiven for everything?”

Quantum’s expression faltered. Hal backpeddled.

“N-never mind that now. Look at the time. Just one more little hop and we’re golden this time around.” Hal felt his toasty orange cheeks warm up beyond their normal color, “…you know I can’t thank you enough for this.”

Quantum looked away. “…my mother isn’t the only pony I owe one to.” She forced out a smile, “I’ll make this work tonight. Promise.”

“No doubt,” Hal grinned. He glanced at the bed. “Right about now I was hiding under my covers reading a science-fiction journal that I found so fascinating it probably had something to do with the vocation I ended up in. But that’s beside the point. Listen, my mother is going to want to take five thousand pictures of that bow tie until the whole night is over, but I—you—are never going to hear the end of it if you just duck out. Just tell her—“

“—just drop some subtle egotistic comments about your prowess with the fillies,” Quantum completed the thought, “And remind her how the whole dance will be sad if I don’t make it there on time to show them how the rug is cut.”

Hal blushed again. “I was gonna say tell her you need to get going.”

“She’s probably the most doting mother I’ve ever even heard of, Hal,” Quantum replied. “And she adores you. That’s the kinda stuff an adoring mother wants to hear.” Her thoughts suddenly turning to Trixie, Quantum softened, “…probably, anyway.”

With her mane slicked back, a boutonniere in her collar, and a corsage for her date, Quantum posed for the Calavanner family photo album and set off for school under a small patch of clouds that were encroaching on Luna’s starry sky. The correct path through the nicely-primped neighborhood had long since become second nature. Soon, Quantum found herself muzzle to muzzle with a giggling gaggle of primped-up fillies, a number of spit-and-polish colts subtly trying to out pose one another, and several well-dressed but clearly bored looking faculty-ponies.

“What’s this?” A voice preceded by a blast of honeysuckle perfume cooed, “Can’t even pomf out your wings for me? Isn’t that how pegasus-boys say hello to a lady?”

Hal’s wings did indeed spread to their very tips the moment he laid eyes on Twitter Step, but Quantum, who was in control of his material body, merely gaped. She had never seen the filly without a bag on her shoulder, or in dancing sweats with her mane tied sharply back. Now, Twitter’s amber waves were cascading in twirling spires down her back and neck with the kind of perfection that must have taken hours under a curling iron. Her cheeks and eyelids were darkened just slightly by a skillful application of makeup, while her amber eyes seemed to sparkle that much more under the school’s floodlights. She wore elegant slippers on every hoof, and the happy bluebird that was spinning around a dancing shoe on her flank was just barely visible under an aqua gown, with taffeta and lace in all the right places. She turned her head and batted her lashes in a disarmingly feminine way.

“You’re gonna let flies in if you don’t close your mouth,” Twitter smiled, placing a hoof on Quantum’s jaw and pushing it gently closed. “I take it you like.”

“I like!” Hal called from above, “I mean you like! Tell her that!”

Quantum shook her head and reminded herself she was currently almost a decade this filly’s senior. “Y-you look…great, Twit.”

Twitter stuck out her tongue, “Uh-huh. Keep being all chivalrous like that. It’s adorable.” She looped her foreleg in Quantum’s and again dragged her off before any other words could be spoken. The height and strength difference between them was considerable, despite their relative ages.

Quantum and her date were admitted to a hastily redecorated gymnasium. The basketball hoops and bleachers were packed away alongside wheeled equipment shelves, that had been pushed back to make room for a collection of refreshment tables. The tables in turn were arranged in a semicircle pattern, effectively creating a perimeter for an ample dance floor. Somepony had even gone so far as to hang colorful temporary mood lighting. A disco ball reflected the undulating, warm waves of purples and blues, sending them in a mottled pattern all over the room. Through the skylights the stars added their luster, but the gathering of rogue clouds at their perimeter was beginning to grow. Only the weather factory in Cloudsdale and the royal house itself knew exactly when every turn in the weather was scheduled to occur. The rest of the Equestrian populace was occasionally obliged to let nature take its course.

Quantum took in her thousandth breath of cheap cologne and the artificial floral scent the school had employed in vain attempt to cover the odor of a well-used gymnasium. The punch tasted like melted rock candy, such that her sweet-tooth quickly reached its limit. With little else to do, she watched the wallflowers stand around and began to feel a certain kinship with the majority of colts among their numbers.

“Hal,” Quantum finally spoke up between swallows as she watched Twitter gossip with her friends, “What’s the deal? Did she get her name for dancing or social butterflying?”

Hal, who had spent most of the evening enjoying a bird’s eye view of the dance he never attended the first time around, shrugged. “She’ll dance. She’ll dance when it’s worth doing.”

“What do the numbers say? Are we making any progress?”

Again Hal made no move to check his device. “Tissy says all you gotta do is dance with her. One song.” He smiled softly, “Relax. This is all about crossing the finish line now. One dance will seal the deal, but if she’s waiting like this? It’s because of how much that one dance is going to mean to her. You’ve already won.”

Quantum drained her punch cup and smirked behind it. ”We’ve won. We make a good team.”

“You know it,” Hal agreed.

“What do you think she’s waiting for though? Some song?”

Quantum’s question was answered by the break in the otherwise constant drone of slow muzak that had graced the entire evening; likely been borne of the prim and proper mindset of an ancient principal. As if on cue, the dance floor began to fill. Quantum felt Twitter by her side.

“About time Principal Crabgrass went home for the night,” Twit explained, lightly bumping Quantum’s flank with her own. “She might be old enough to have been doing her homework in hieroglyphics, but at least some of the teachers around here can’t see the harm in a little fun!”

Quantum tried to remove as much of the feminine intuition from her smile as she could, and stood that much taller. She received another playful rump-bump for her trouble. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”

“You know me so well. Like I’m ever gonna waste my hocks on muzak. Come on!” She made as if to roughly grab Quantum again, but this time she stopped herself and stood still, the blush on her cheeks deepening beyond the applied color. “You lead this time.”

Quantum took the dance floor with a new understanding of male pride. A few of the hoofball jocks were there with their dates. Some of them were giving her the eye, but everypony who did tried to play it down. They were in Hal’s world now, and by proxy, in Quantum’s as well.

Quantum wasn’t a mare above a little revenge.

Quantum quickly found her groove In the unbroken medley of snappy new songs. Determined to show off, both mares deviated frequently from the basic waltzes of the other couples, jumping between styles as the music dictated. Hal activated the red light numbers and called them out, but Quantum’s verve belied her from even noticing when his commands suddenly ceased.

By the eighth song, the floor was nearly empty of all the exhausted students who could no longer keep up. Quantum Trots Lulamoon – now Halifax Calavanner, and her partner Twitter Step, reveled in their absolute domination. Lost in the moment, Quantum mashed together the steps she had been taught to create an absolute mayhem of rhythm, exploding forth like random chemicals cast into an already frothing beaker. She nearly lit her horn with the colors of pure glee before a certain sight drew her eye.

A sight that was simply wrong.

Spinning with the music, she had to focus on what she had seen three times before she was certain her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. Standing in a semi-darkened corner with spectators passing right through her was a mid-twentysomething, wine coated earth mare. Her classic beauty gave her poofy, powdery cyan mess of bed-head hair a sensual ‘morning after’ feel, but the glassy look in her steel-gray eyes and the hefty blotch of nothing where her cutie mark should have been gave her identity away immediately.

“…Tissy…?”

It was as if Quantum only now noticed she was dancing. Her steps became heavy; her attention split between the apparition in the corner and the realization that she was doing something she had no idea how to do a week ago, now in front of an audience. Just before an embarrassing trip would have derailed the entire performance, Twitter caught Quantum in her forelegs, sensed the elder mare’s distress, and dipped herself – leaving Quantum looming over her, holding the taller filly up with forelegs wrapped around her midsection.

Twitter’s makeup was running. She was panting hard and sweating under the lights, but the look on her face was one of pure rapture. Her lips were puckered.

Quantum glanced away. There was Tissy, standing perfectly catatonic…

…with Hal’s control device resting on the flat of her hoof.

“Well…?” Twit whispered, “…aren’t you going to kiss me?”

Quantum looked back to her partner with worried shock on her face. Twit frowned, misunderstood the expression entirely, and smiled again.

“Don’t be shy—”

Twitter placed her hooves on either side of Quantum’s head, pulled herself up a few inches, and completed the connection to a chorus of catcalls that dwarfed the song of the fillies that first day in dance class. Wide-eyed, Quantum could do nothing but accept the less-than-adolescent advance until the music abruptly ceased, and the crowd parted before the admonishments of Hal’s Equestrian history teacher.

“—prpopriate behavior on school grounds, you two! Break it up.” Was all Quantum heard. Her response was to dart away, leaving the startled audience behind to burst through the doors and follow the phasing image of Tissy into the drizzly night.

“Tissy!” Quantum shouted the moment she was clear of the building, gasping to recover her breath. “What’s going on? Where’s Hal?”

Tissy stood completely still, her mane undisturbed by the increasing breeze. She tapped a few buttons on the control device, but said nothing.

“Tissy! I’m talking to you!” Quantum growled, reaching out in a vain, knee-jerk attempt to shake Tissy’s shoulders. “Where’s Hal!?”

Tissy ignored the advance and continued to type. As Quantum soaked helplessly in the rain, the wine-coated mare finished her task and turned the screen for Quantum to see.

+++Well done, Cutie. There is now a 94.8% likelihood that Halifax Calavanner will choose dancing over science, and continue on to his future in the Maretonian ballet.+++

Quantum’s eyes widened. “…what? His future?” She fixed Tissy with a stare. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know what Hal’s future is just as well as I do. He’s our best friend!”

Tissy typed—

+++I am not personally acquainted with Halifax Calavanner. Nor to my knowledge are you.+++

Strands of Quantum’s rapidly matting, seagreen mane began to drape over her eyes. She laughed dryly. “Tissy you know I appreciate it when you try to pull a fast one, but this really isn’t funny, okay? Now tell me where Hal is.”

+++Halifax Calavanner’s consciousness is currently being inhabited by you. Given that you have successfully altered the event with the highest percentile chance of being the key event, you should prepare to vault at any moment. You have done well.+++

“Not this Hal, Tissy!” Quantum snarled, pointing down at the younger Hal’s reflection in a growing puddle. “Where is OUR Hal? The one from 2039!?”

Tissy squinted. Staring as always just past the shoulder of whomever was addressing her, she hesitated, as if uncertain how to answer. As the rising crescendo of raindrops pattered the ground beneath her, she began to type again. Slower this time.

+++Research data remains unchanged. Halifax Calavanner and Twitter Step are rising young stars in the Maretonian Intercontinental Ballet. Reports suggest they are planning marriage when they graduate from Maretonia’s most prestigious school of dance.+++

Quantum felt something snap inside her. Her lip curled in a sneer so ugly it might have wilted flowers all on its own. For every step she advanced, the invulnerable holographic earth mare actually backed away.

“Hal was just here,” The statement sounded like a threat. “He’s been our best friend for years. Yours and mine. I can’t do this without him. Where is he.”

Tissy thrust the device out in front of herself like a talisman.

+++I do not understand the question.+++

“Where IS he, Tissy!?” Quantum shouted. “It’s a simple question! I want you to tell me what happened to Hal – he was just here a minute ago!!”

+++I don’t understand the q—

Quantum’s hoof passed sharply through Tissy’s foreleg as she attempted to bat the device away. Soaked through, she barked out a repetitive litany of the same brutish question, punctuated by choice profanity, with all the ferocity of a horde of diamond dogs. Only a muffled cry that barely sounded equine at all finally gave her pause.

Below, curled up into a fetal ball with her powdery mane splayed all over her, was Tissy. The wine-coated mare was rocking in place, her eyes shut tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“…nuhh…nuhhh…”

Quantum stared at her own trembling hoof as though she’d never seen it before.

“…Tissy I…”

Tissy recoiled in horror from Quantum’s searching hoof. Backing away on the ground, she fumbled for the control device and activated the sheet of white light that would take her out of the holographic imaging chamber.

“T-Tissy wait!” Quantum held her hooves up in a gesture of peace. “I’m sorry! D-don’t leave, we need to talk about—”

With another feral yelp, Tissy plunged through the portal and was gone. Quantum sank to her knees in the rain, feeling as though the very light inside her had been banished to the moon.

“Hal?”

Twitter’s voice approached at a fast trot, “Hal? What’s the matter? You just ran off, and—”

“You.”

“…what?”

”You,” Quantum repeated without turning around. “I see what this is all about now. Why he wasn’t checking the numbers. He lied to me. He lied to me…because of you.”

Twitter Step, her mane soaking up the weight of the falling water, shook her head in confusion. “Hal, I don’t understand…come inside and tell me what’s the matter. We can talk about—”

“No!” Quantum felt rage choking her like an oily rag down her throat. “You don’t understand! You two had your chance! He’s my friend now!” Tears mingled with raindrops until one became indiscernible from the other, “He…he wouldn’t just abandon me…it’s all because he saw you again! All that crap about not messing with the timeline, and that’s just what he did! And he did it for you!”

Twitter backed away. “Hal…you’re scaring me…”

“Scaring you?” Quantum repeated, a maniacal smile on her face, “I can do better than that. I can fix all of this! I’m Halifax Calavanner, and guess what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna go home, and I’m gonna forget this night ever happened! You know why? Because I don’t want to be with you, that’s why!”

Twitter sniffled, taffeta adhering to her flanks. “Y-you don’t mean that—”

“Yes I do! Now leave me alone! I’m a scientist!!”

Twitter backed up until her rump bapped a wall. Shaking her head and fighting back tears of her own, she managed to sprint into a gallop just before the floodgates burst, her wail carrying her off into the night.

“That’s right!” Quantum called, “Go away! I don’t need you, I…I…”

Fog descended on Quantum’s brain as a kaleidoscope of moody blue emotions mixed with the red, volcanic fires of unmanaged anger, the green fields of envy, the gray spires of regret, and the brown dust of remorse. The moisture in her eyes attenuated every light, creating warped trails in every direction until her gaze fell upon a single figure.

There stood the colorless pony, wrapped as always from crown to pastern in gleaming white robes. Under his hood lay the patient null void of blackness – a splash of absent color in a wreath of presence. He never spoke nor moved a muscle, but his silent poise spoke volumes to the only mare who could perceive his presence.

“What! What do you want from me!?” Quantum felt a weakness in her legs, but held herself aloft through sheer desire to expel the last vomitous anger from her being. “You want to judge me? You want a hoof for a hoof? Well guess what? I’m not scared of you anymore, you dirty rag! If this is what you call ‘rebuilding lives’, then you can kiss my minty pony butt, because I’m done! Don’t you understand? I was trying to kill myself! Because I deserved it!” Quantum beat her own chest so hard she bruised herself, “Is having me jump through hoops fun for you? Well you’re not getting any more fun out of me! I quit! So send me wherever the hell you were gonna send me anyway and save everypony back home the trouble!”

Quantum spun on her heels and burst into a loping, clumsy gallop. Blinded by tears, the slippery rain, and her complete lack of coordination, she stumbled into Luna’s dampened grace until a cascading sound like wild thunder grew louder and louder behind her.

“No! Stop! LEAVE ME ALONE!!”

Every surface split apart, bursting forth with pure, blinding white light.

Quantum screamed.

7.6 - Beside or Aside

DATE UNKNOWN

LOCATION UNKNOWN

Light.

The gleaming presence of endless white light, spanning in all directions clear to the horizon. It was impossible to tell if it was blinding or not, because there was nothing else to be obscured by its radiance. In the light’s embrace, direction meant nothing. Up, forward, and right were as meaningless as their antonyms, for there was nothing by which to define the concept of place and movement.

Nothing but a single, scrawny, mint-coated pony.

On the heels of a piercing scream, Quantum bolted upright and squinted until her eyes were convinced there was nothing to see. Panic instilled in her an instantaneous, appalling need to begone.

Before they came for her again.

She galloped. Changed directions. Galloped again. Wide-eyed and panting, tasting the palpable fear that came with the ‘sentence’ she had never forgotten, she came and went, charged and fled. Nothing changed, and at length she collapsed onto her rump with exhaustion as though she had simply been running on a treadmill.

“Alright...I get it,” Quantum rumbled, head down, her glasses slipping to the tip of her muzzle. “I lose. J-just...make it quick.”

No reply came.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Quantum’s gaze shot to the undefined heavens like the sharpest applebuck, “I said you win! Don’t spike the ball!” She waved her forelegs frantically about her, “All this...why? Why not just end me now? I don’t want to be here! I-I’m, I’m...!”

Her voice softened.

“...I’m scared.”

Familiar words rang out from everywhere without a voice:

Fail, and you will never know the peace of death.

“But...I...” Quantum sought for words. Her analytical mind wrestled with the incalculable concepts of emotion and fate, until they reduced her to a harsh realization - her end had already come. This was the perfect Hell for a pony such as her.

A Hell where nothing happens. Where nothing can be created or destroyed.

The minty mare sat and wailed, wondering if her sounds were even real, or if she was merely convincing herself she could still see and hear in such a void. She blinked against her own tears.

Once.

Twice.

Somepony was there.

Instantly giving in to her instincts, Quantum recoiled and scooted away from the figure. The shape did not gleam with the blending hue of the White Pony’s robes. It was darker, and Quantum’s logic demanded she assume it was among the number of the shadow-ponies that had once jeered at her, accusing and meting out their judgment. With nothing to hide inside or behind, she curled into a ball and peered through her fuzzy forelegs, searching out the empty holes through the apparition’s face where eyes ought to have been.

What she saw instead was a peridot gleam - the first color beyond the presence or absence of it she had ever observed in this place. It was surrounded by a mop of black hair with frosted tips, and a burnt-orange grin that involuntarily skipped three beats of Quantum’s heart the moment she could make it out.

“HAL!”

Even at a gallop, she couldn’t be certain which of them was moving closer to the other. And she didn’t care. Fully expecting to leap right through her holographic companion, she instead collided with him and collapsed in a heap of flailing limbs, glowing horns, and beating wings. Sprawled atop him, the pair could only stare in disbelief as they each reached a hoof towards one another.

The hooves touched. Firm and solid. Each pony found their first words choked off by relieved and fanciful laughter.

“What...what is this place?” Hal finally managed.

“Its...its...” Quantum faltered. “...the white pony’s realm, I guess? I told you he...it is real.”

“I never doubted you,” Hal grinned, reaching out to adjust Quantum’s glasses for her. “But what are we doing here? How did we get here? The last thing I remember was--”

Quantum’s smile inadvertently vanished. Memories rushed in, shattering the heels of her elation like brittle bones. “...lied to me.”

“What?”

Quantum pushed away and rose to her hooves, looming despite her diminutive height. The shadow of her bangs cast a cool, dull gloom over her sapphire eyes.

“You lied to me,” she rumbled, the fire in her mind threatening to ignite again. “You were lying to me the whole time. You knew that taking Twitter Step to that dance wasn’t the right choice to make.”

Hal looked away. He said nothing.

“You knew it wasn’t right,” Quantum continued, “But you lied to me, encouraged me, and made it happen anyway. Even though you knew it would irrevocably alter your future. Why?”

Hal swallowed.

“WHY, Hal!?” Quantum wrapped both her hooves around Hal’s turtleneck and pulled him in close. “Why would you do something like that? You lied to me! You lied to Tissy! And for what? Some nebulous second chance at a future you couldn’t possibly foresee? What’s wrong with the life you have now?”

Hal pressed a hoof to his temple and shut his eyes tightly, trying in vain to call upon memories that weren’t there. “What happened after the dance?”

“I asked you a question, Hal!” Quantum growled.

Hal repeated his question as pegasus expression suddenly matched unicorn. Quantum sighed dramatically.

“I talked to Tissy.”

“What happened to Twit?”

Quantum felt the flames crackle up through the veins in her eyes. “That’s all you care about? What happened to Twit? I’ll tell you what happened to Twit! I fixed everything! I made it right again once I realized what you were trying to do to screw it all up!”

Hal rose, his expression tense. “...what did you do?”

Quantum folded her forelegs and turned sharply away, closing her eyes and forcing calming air through her lungs. “I took her out of the equation. I put things back the way they’re supposed to be.”

“...how dare you.”

Quantum’s eyes popped open, the vista of empty white flooding her vision instantly. “What?”

“I said,” Hal ground his teeth until it was practically audible, “How dare you.”

“H-how dare--” Choking on her own words, Quantum spun and met Hal’s rocky gaze with a hard stare of her own. “How dare I? How dare you! You have the nerve to say that to me when this whole time you were manipulating--”

Quantum couldn’t carry the thought. Her eyes focused on the single tear rolling down her friend’s cheek. Hal’s eyes narrowed, and he quivered as though the temperature had just dropped below freezing.

“I--” Quantum tried again, but she found Hal’s hoof over her muzzle so fast, only the single word got out. Without looking up, Hal spoke.

“Fine,” Hal simmered. “I did it. All of it. Everything you said. I falsified Tissy’s data, and I told you the wrong thing to do. But Cutie, I...I saw her again. Saw my life again. Everything that I’d conveniently buried over time. It all came back to me, and I...couldn’t just let it all play out the same way again. And you’re damn right I said ‘how dare you’. How dare you presume to decide what’s best for me?”

“...but what you did was wrong,” Quantum observed softly.

“Was it?” Hal snapped back. “Was it really wrong? Who are you, of all ponies, to judge me for something like that? When your mother came back into your life, what did you do for her? How far were you willing to go, to win back her affections?”

Quantum slumped, and found herself with nothing to say.

“It all happened so fast,” Hal continued, “and I thought, maybe the grass is greener on the other side. Do you have any idea how many times I berated myself? How many times I thought, ‘you idiot, all you had to do was get over your cold hooves and just go to that stupid dance’? How many times I wondered what might have been?” Hal took in a sharp breath, “I knew it the very next day, just from the change in her demeanor. We were still friends. We spent the rest of high school as friends. We still danced together. But I could tell. That dance was our moment. Our one chance. And I screwed it up. When we graduated and were out of one another’s sight? That was the end of it.” He paused, “I cared about her, Cutie. I cared about her a lot.”

Quantum mumbled something unintelligible. The brightness of the endless white made hiding one’s face in the shadows impossible, so she stalked several paces away. Hal’s ears perked. His wings beat without thinking, and closed the gap through slow floating.

“I didn’t hear you,” he asked. “What did you say?”

“...me?”

Hal edged closer, reaching out with his hoof, as if daring to swipe the cheese from a giant mousetrap before it broke his neck. “...what?”

“What about me?” Quantum’s voice was softer and weaker than Hal could ever remember hearing it. “Don’t you care about me?”

Frazzled, Hal pulled his hoof back. “Wh-what? Of course I care about you. Why would you think--”

“Then why did you abandon me?” Quantum persisted. “You’re not a fool. You know that what you were doing would change the timeline. That you would probably never go to C.A.S. And then you’d never meet me or Tissy. Tissy didn’t even remember you, Hal. When I spoke to her, she treated you like just another statistic. Another past to put right. Another happy ending. You were changing more lives than just your own. Didn’t you stop to think about that?”

Hal cringed. “I...dunno what I was thinking, I just--”

“I guess that’s one thing if Tissy didn’t remember you, because her memories were altered and thus never there to begin with. But for whatever reason...whatever spacetime mumbo-jumbo my molecules are going through, I remembered everything. How could you...do that to me?”

“Cutie, I--”

Quantum felt herself coming apart. She levitated her glasses off her muzzle and wiped her face with her foreleg. Her concentration broke, and the aura around the spectacles released, consigning them to whatever counted as the ground.

“How could you leave me? Don’t you care about me?” She sputtered, her expression cracking and her vision blurring with moisture. “Does an old high school flame really mean so much to you? Are memories that were all said and done in the past that important to open up again? Do you think Twitter Step the only mare who could ever care about you, or want you to care about them? If that vault had been years later...would you have manipulated it to make sure you and I would still meet?”

Hal suddenly felt as though the white all around him was a gigantic sclera, and his companion was a contracted pupil focused entirely on him. He wilted under it, his ears drooping. “...I knew we were friends, but I didn’t know you felt that way...”

“Then you’re an idiot,” Quantum sniffled plainly. “A blind, geeky, winged idiot with no fashion sense.”

“And you’re a stubborn, crude, four-eyed, emo son of a great and powerful nag,” Hal reproached. “And look who’s talking, nerd.”

Hal managed to keep himself in the air when Quantum flung herself into his forelegs. He folded them around her scrawny, bony warmth, and found there a certain quivering softness he’d never given her credit for concealing in her heart.

“I’m sorry Hal,” Quantum’s muffled voice blubbered from somewhere in his garish turtleneck. Hal brought a hoof soothingly up his friend’s back and ran it through her seagreen mane.

“I’m sorry too, Cutie. Sorry for everything.”

With a gentle push of a hoof on his chest, Quantum lifted her face. Without leaving his embrace, their eyes met. Hal felt warm breath wash over his snout, and he blushed.

“I...I mean...we...”

“Shut up, jerk.” Quantum muttered.

In a place where there is nothing, distance and direction have no meaning. Time also means very little, and both ponies quickly lost track of how long their lips touched. Alive with the scent and touch of one another’s soft coats and steady breathing, their minds coalesced into a dreamy haze of warm, delicious relief. An infinity later, Quantum batted an eyelid, caught a glimpse of something over Hal’s shoulder, and roughly pushed away from him, clearing her throat.

“Huh? Wha-?” Hal looked around, bewildered, while Quantum pointed a hoof at the image of the white pony. He - it, was now simply there, its masking robes merging in and out of the endless white as they billowed without a breeze to carry them. Hal squinted.

“What? Is something there?”

Quantum frowned, “You still can’t see him?”

The seed is sown

Hal started at the voiceless words that seemed to project into his mind from everywhere. “No, but I can hear him.”

Halifax Calavanner

Hal stared blindly in the direction Quantum was pointing. “...yes?”

An ear for an ear

A hoof for a hoof

Stand beside or stand aside

Hal and Quantum stared blankly at one another. Hal spoke first.

“I don’t underst--”

Stand beside or stand aside

Hal put a hoof to his chin in thought. He looked back to his small, minty friend. She stood on legs that were shaky from the prolonged weight of emotion. She was staring straight ahead, without her glasses; fright clear on her pained expression.

In that moment, Hal knew he wanted nothing more than to make her awful expression go away. He stood next to Quantum, close enough to brush flanks, and stared again at nothing.

“I stand beside,” He replied in challenge.

The choice is made. For better or for worse, for good or for ill, you will share in the fate of your companion, Halifax Calavanner.

Hal did a double take and suddenly recoiled.

“You can see him now, can’t you,” Quantum stated.

“...uh huh.”

Quantum Trots Lulamoon. Your penance is not yet satisfied. You and your companion will continue to pay for the lives that have been destroyed by rebuilding others, until this tribunal is satisfied with your toil. Succeed, and you will be redeemed. Fail, and you will never know the peace of death.

“Yeah I’ve heard that before,” Quantum felt strangely emboldened, brushing up against Hal’s wing. “So you’re giving us another chance?”

Go

The single syllable rode on the trails of a rising thunder that rolled towards the two ponies from all directions, as if they were in the epicenter of a collapsing hurricane. All around, the white began to shatter, giving way to a warped, screaming myriad of realities - moments in space and time too numerous for either mortal pony’s ability to perceive them all. Millions of voices and sights crashed down on Quantum and Hal like a world-ending tsunami.

When it all cleared, the white space was empty.

7.7 - Let's Do it Again

May 23, 2030

Stability

Friday

Quantum buried her muzzle in the down of Hal’s wing, and didn’t look up until all the maddening sounds abruptly ceased. When she did, before her lay what resembled a simple bathroom, darkened under the hours of night. Confused, she glanced out the window to find Luna’s grace bathing a neighborhood full of manicured lawns and perfect white picket fences.

“Hal? Where--”

“My bathroom,” Hal replied curtly, gazing around in wonder in his own right. “Well, the upstairs bathroom at my parents’ place, anyway.”

Quantum looked around and found that Hal was right - the room was much as she remembered it during the week she spent in Hal’s body. “Okay, so we know where we are. How about when?”

“You you recognize it?”

“Yeah,” Quantum replied. I was just here, remember?”

“Then we probably aren’t too far removed from the time you were here before,” Hal concluded. He glanced at the vanity mirror, lit by the glow of the moon only, and stared. “Cutie. Look.”

Quantum stared at her own reflection. For the first time in what felt like months, her own rumpled mane, weary muzzle, and blue flame cutie mark looked back at her.

“Sweet Celestia I need a brushing...”

Hal pointed again. “Look what else.”

Quantum inspected, and noticed that even though Hal was standing right next to her, he made no reflection. She reached out and touched his chest.

Her hoof pushed easily through his body. She sighed.

“...not again...”

Hal retrieved his device and began creating familiar booping noises with it. He paused when he noticed a minty ear partially phased through his shoulder. Glancing at the mirror, he saw Quantum - alone, with her head tilted at an angle as though she were resting it on nothing. Her ears were folded down and she looked withdrawn.

“H-hey,” Hal offered, “...hooves in the game, remember? Let’s get through this so you’ll move on safely, huh?”

Quantum smiled lazily, moving her cheek as if it were rubbing against him. “It sounds like we’re both in this together for real, now. Let’s get it done so we both move on safely.”

Hal matched his companion’s grin and went back to bopping buttons. He made a face. “This is...strange. Everything’s working, but I don’t have any connectivity with the Accelerator room. I can’t talk to Tissy at all.” He walked away, examining an empty wall as if it held some special of interest. “And I can’t find the chamber door.”

Quantum blinked. “Wait, you’re stuck in the imaging chamber?”

Hal was phasing his hoof partway through the wall, feeling for something in his own reality. “Seems that way. It’s as if there were nothing at all outside.”

Quantum squinted as the wheels turned in her brain. A bulb of thought flickered to life. “Do you think we’re being tested?”

“Maybe,” Hal replied. “But I was able to pull up the date, at least. Hear that?”

Quantum strained her ears. A muffled voice from across the hall was singing softly-

“Steppin’ out, with my baby...can’t go wrong cause blah blah blah...smooth sailin’ cause I’m blah blah something...with my top hat, and my white tie, and my tails...”

“That’s me!” Quantum barely kept her surprise below a whisper. “I was singing that...”

“...when you were getting ready to go to the dance,” Hal finished the thought. “As me.”

Quantum tried in vain to put two and two together. “But...why?”

“Dunno,” Hal observed. “But if I had to guess? I’d say we’re being given another chance to put things right.”

“Just relax and enjoy the show tonight,” Quantum heard her own voice say through the wall. “I’ll be out of here in a couple of hours and who knows? Maybe we’ll be talking about this back home tomorrow.”

“Fat chance, Me,” Quantum smiled ruefully. “What now? Am I supposed to stop myself from taking you to the dance so you can’t take Twitter to the dance?”

Hal rolled his eyes and decided not to try to parse the logic too hard in his brain. “I don’t have any better ideas. We know that if we do nothing, this night is going to turn out the same way it did before.” He shivered, “I get the impression our colorless friend in the great white beyond won’t like that very much, or else why drop us here to begin with.”

“N-never mind that now,” Hal’s counterpart said from the next room. “Look at the time. Just one more little hop and we’re golden this time around.”

“More than you could possibly imagine, Me,” Hal grinned and cast a glance in Quantum’s direction sufficient to deepen the shade of her cheeks.

Quantum sought to maintain the subject. “Do you remember exactly what you were originally doing tonight? Why you didn’t go to the dance?”

Hal slumped, turning back into the small room. “I told you, I got cold hooves. So I made an excuse.”

“To Twit?”

Hal looked mortified, “What? Of course not! I never said anything to her one way or another. I made an excuse...to myself. I got dressed, caught my hoof in the door jamb on the way out of my room, fell and hit my head, and then I sorta...” He grinned sheepishly, “...told myself I was hurt more than I really was, and spent the night reading science magazines. I found some article about...I don’t even remember what it was, but my brain was more about science than dancing after that.”

“Wait,” Quantum paused. “You hit your head?”

Hal shrugged. “Yeah? Come to think of it I don’t really remember how I got between the doorway and my bed. Maybe I hit it harder than I thought, but it wasn’t enough to count me out for the entire evening. It was a long time ago and that’s just a detail. What difference does it make?”

Quantum’s grin expanded until Hal felt worried. “Is your sister home?”

“The dance wasn’t open to seniors,” Hal explained, “She was out on her own date. Why?”

“She played filly hoofball, right?”

“...sure,” Hal looked perplexed, “Who cares about that though? We’re going to run out of time if we don’t come up with a plan. I don’t really like the idea of just confronting ourselves and explaining the situation. We don’t remember that happening the last time we did this, so it’s possible we might screw up the timeline even more by doing that--”

Quantum wasn’t listening. She slipped out of the bathroom and crept down the hall. When Hal heard her rummaging around in the next room, he phased his face through the wall and found his companion rummaging around through his big sister’s sports equipment.

“Cutie what are you doing?” Hal hissed. “Somebody’s gonna hear you! We’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

Quantum’s rump bounced, her tail wagging as she ignored the admonishment and continued after her quarry. “Are you sure your hoof got stuck in a door jamb?”

“I don’t remember, Cutie!” Hal finally shouted. “It doesn’t make any difference! Work with me here! We’ve got to find a way to stop him...you...me...whatever from going to that dance tonight, and if we so much as let ourselves leave the house, we’ll already be altering the original timeline!”

Quantum stood up. No longer afraid to show off her unicorn nature, she grinned another broad, mischevious grin and levitated an object next to her head.

“That’s my sister’s hoofball bat,” Hal observed.

“Nope!” Quantum cackled. “This is our ticket to preserving the timeline!”

Hal phased the rest of the way into the room, gaping like a vegetable. “...you’re not seriously planning to just hit yourself over the head with a hoofball bat, are you?”

“You saiiiiid,” Quantum sang, “you don’t remember how you hit your head, or how you went from the doorway to the bed.”

“Cutie this is coltcrap craz--”

“I’ll never see it coming!” Quantum insisted, “And we don’t have time to argue. You said it yourself. If we don’t do this right now, we’re taking a huge risk with the timeline!”

Hal floated on his wings, looking droll. “Don’t forget that we’ve both done this before. Do you remember getting hit in the face with a bat the last time you walked through my bedroom door?”

“No...” Quantum admitted. “But I don’t think that matters.”

Hal snorted, “This I’ve gotta hear.”

But Quantum didn’t take up the challenge. Standing in the darkened bedroom with a bat in her magic, she batted her eyelids and let out a small huff. “...I didn’t forget you when the timeline was altered the first time, Hal. Even though Tissy did. I think that has something to do with the white pony and his...influence. I’m really sorry about this, but I think you’re in his ballpark too now. At the very least, I don’t think he’s going to let either of us forget what’s happened up until now. A-and...” She swallowed, “...some of it I really don’t want to forget.”

Hal fell silent. At length, shuffling sounds began to emit from his bedroom across the hall. He whipped out his device and started tapping at it like mad.

“What are you doing?” Quantum inquired.

“You can’t hit me - I mean the other me, with a baseball bat. It’ll just go right through him. I doubt I can do anything to him either since I’m not in the same physical chamber he is, but I can reconfigure this device to emit a disruption pulse. It should cut out his holomatrix and shut him down for a minute or two.”

“Can’t he compensate for that?”

“Of course he can. I’m brilliant, remember?” Hal grinned, “But only if he sees it coming.”

“So we have like one minute to make this work, basically.”

“More like fifteen seconds.”

Quantum smiled and hefted the bat. “Blitzkrieg?”

“Blitzkrieg,” Hal replied. “Don’t hit yourself too hard. I’d miss you.”

They heard the creak of the door across the hall slowly being opened.

“...GO!”

8.1 - A Long Way Down

December 21, 2064

Cloudsdale

Sunday

Quantum fell.

The instant she struck herself with Hal’s sister’s hoofball bat, the world around her crackled away into the blue flame of the Accelerator effect. This time, Quantum had no time to experience the vertigo that came with spacetime displacement. She was falling. There was nothing to see but the crisp, gloomy sky of winter and the snowy earth below.

Quantum ran the numbers in her mind without thinking, and reasoned that she had approximately fourteen seconds before her head impacted with the ground at terminal velocity. Give or take a second for wind resistance.

“HAL!!!” She screamed, flailing her legs and kicking at nothing, “HAL! Hal help! I’m gonna die!!”

Had she not been plummeting to her death, Quantum might have considered the number of times she’d declared her own imminent demise in recent weeks. Up until now, there had always been at least a moment to prepare. She wondered if perhaps she’d failed after all - not done as the shadow tribunal had wanted and consequently damaged too many futures. Was this her penance? To simply be killed at the beginning of a vault with no chance to prevent it?

She would have smiled from the irony, but she found that having her life suddenly ended was not so satisfying as taking it on her own terms. Thus she screamed her mane off, shutting her eyes against the inevitable…until an impact with an unexpectedly soft object knocked the wind out of her.

It was too soon for her death - there should have been at least six more seconds. She opened her eyes to find herself staring at a sea of cerulean, with a pattern of yellow lightning bolts on it.

“Hey boss, you okay?” A spirited voice suddenly came to her, and Quantum found she was no longer falling. “You get a wing cramp or something?”

Quantum found herself riding on the back of a pegasus in flight - and not just any pegasus. This lithe specimen was decked out in the easily recognizable uniform of the Wonderbolts, complete with flight goggles. Quantum thought fast.

“I uh...y-yeah! I sure did!” She laughed dryly, “Wing cramp! In my...” she looked ineffectually behind herself, seeing only her normal, minty unicorn back and the seagreen tail jutting from her rump, “...in my wings! You got me!”

The pony under her laughed and began to ascend back towards the clouds, “In more ways than one! You better not skimp on your wing-stretches. You’d never live it down if some reservist saw you, of all ponies, with a wing cramp!” The voice paused, “Plus, you know. You’d be dead. And nopony would ever let you hear the end of that! Hah ha!”

Quantum shared a forced laugh with the nameless pony who stood between her and plummeting back to her death. She made the mistake of looking down during the ascent, and squeezed her benefactor around the midsection tightly with her hind legs.

“Hey c’mon,” The pegasus complained, “You’re gonna choke me! Just relax.”

Though she was still no master at it, Quantum was getting used to thinking fast through new situations. She forced her jittery muscles to relax and drew herself into a casual sitting position atop the other pony’s back. The trip started off nearly as terrifying as the fall, but she eventually found herself staring at the marvels of the pony civilization above the clouds that she knew so little about. The pegasus flew low under a cloud - Quantum had her neck stretched out too far and ended up eating a face full of the puffy substance, but she found herself lost in the enjoyment of the wind brushing her cheeks, and laughed the impact off.

Where there had once been nothing but the hard, wintry earth of Equestria below, there was now an entire city - held aloft merely by patches of clouds gathered into a solidarity Quantum would have thought scientifically impossible, had she not already known this place to exist. She couldn’t be sure of the year, but she was positive that this was Cloudsdale - the one and only bastion of pony society that soared above all others. Most of the homes and businesses were low, modestly-constructed buildings (likely condensed because they too seemed to be made entirely of clouds), but the larger structures were a sight to see - Cloudsdale Stadium stood proudly before a backdrop of partially-obscured afternoon sun, its flags whipping in the elevated breeze. As they passed over it, Quantum could see the images of tiny ponies going about various tasks from maintenance to exercise.

With her mind still trying to grasp how clouds could be so light and airy, yet also so solid, Quantum’s eyes fell upon a sight that defied rational explanation.

Upon a swatch of land that looked as though it had been torn from the earth and raised by a massive levitation spell rested nothing less than a full airstrip, with a number of utilitarian buildings, several training areas, and a few dozen pegasi in various stages of field dress milling about. Fluttering upon a tall flagpole was a device that nopony could possibly mistake - the emblem of the Wonderbolts.

Quantum’s pega-taxi descended with the perfect poise of a trained flyer, and Quantum soon found her hoofs clicking against a patch of blessedly solid, concrete sidewalk near a bronze statue. There was a collection of park benches and greenery nearby that reminded her of something she might see in Canterlot - not thousands of hooves in the air.

“No problem about the lift by the way,” The pegasus quipped. “You know I won’t tell anypony. Just be careful, huh?”

Quantum turned, but the pony that had so casually saved her life was already trotting away, giving her little to go on but a shock of orange tail and a full Wonderbolts’ costume. Left to her own devices, Quantum sought her bearings, turning first to examine the statue.

The pony atop the marble pedestal was as unmistakable as the uniform she wore, or the bold, wingspread stance she took. Quantum read the inscription--

Wonderbolts Captain Rainbow Dash - Altius Volantis - est. 2050.

“Twenty...fifty?” Quantum attempted to pronounce the other phrase inscribed into the bronze, but had no luck with it. She glanced up at the statue again, enough to notice minute, telltale signs of wear that suggested it wasn’t erected yesterday.

Her mouth hung open.

“...I’m in the future...”

It was the only logical explanation. The last time she thought she was eons in the future, it tuned out she was eons in the past, but Rainbow Dash was a name anypony of her era would know. This had to be the future. How far in the future was still a question to be answered. Had the statue been erected to honor the Elemental Keeper of Loyalty in life, or posthumously?

Quantum’s suppositions about the timeframe were confirmed by a small roaring sound. She turned, and was amazed to see half a dozen of ponies gathered around a stallion in a beat up flight suit and goggles...with a horn jutting out of his forehead. Instead of wings, at his flanks were mounted two small tanks that were smoking, as though the apertures at their tips had been recently ignited.

Quantum’s eyes lit up like a Manehattan skyline. She was pushing past the dispersing crowd in an instant, reaching up to adjust her glasses openly without any thought for the fact that nopony but her could see them.

“A-are these...rocket engines?” She marveled aloud, “Y-you built a functioning jetpack in full scale!?”

The unicorn levitated his goggles off and laughed. His coat was deep blue, and the twisted goatee made him look even wiser than his middle age. He poked his starboard engine and pulled his hoof back immediately, cradling it. “Ow...yep, but this is the high performance version. If I didn’t have that insulating blanket on under it, I’d have had my flanks burned off by now!” He cackled at his own comment and rubbed sweat from his brow with a dirty rag. “Nopony wants to test it so I’m having to take matters into my own hooves. Call me crazy, but nothing can stand in the way of progress, right?”

Quantum reached out to touch one of the tanks too, fully expecting the burning sensation - just so she could feel the molded steel under her hoof for an instant. “High performance?”

“Yeah, you know,” The unicorn nodded at the sky, “More oomph than the economy line. I tell ya, once we get these babies in mass production? Won’t matter what tribe you were born into. Everypony will be flying like an eagle!” The port engine choose that moment to backfire, and both ponies found themselves coughing and waving their forelegs in an attempt to dismiss the ensuing cloud of smog. “Well...more or less. Won’t ever beat the dexterity of real wings, but it might carry you faster than they can!”

Quantum followed the unicorn’s skyward nod. Pegasi were flying through the clouds above...but a small number of earth ponies and unicorns were doing the same thing. In the case of the wingless tribes, each pony was wearing a beige flight suit, with two tanks - smaller than the ones the unicorn wore - strapped to either side of their bodies. Simple observation showed that these ponies were capable of little more than slow flight in a straight line, with wide curves...but they were flying.

“The Mark One systems are the safest way,” The unicorn mused. He patted one of the engines, this time protecting his hoof with the sweat rag, “But the Mark Two? You’ll see. They’re gonna at least halve the turn radius and triple the top speed. Imagine being an earth pony who could fly up and tend the clouds above their farm all by themselves, or a unicorn traveling from Canterlot to Ponyville just with a quick flight!” He stopped himself and smiled wryly, “Well, I guess that’s not so much a dream for you though, is it. Heh.”

“...this is amazing...” Quantum gaped, “A-are they magic-powered? Or did you actually come up with a practical means of internal combustion?” The latter of the two concepts was little more than a drawing-board idea in Quantum’s time. The unicorn tilted his head quizzically.

“Gee...you sure know a lot more about this stuff than I would have given you credit for!” Encouraged, he craned his neck around to his flank and explained. “It’s a combination of both. There’s no way engines as small as even the Mark Two could get a full-grown pony off the ground, and even if they did, all you’d have is thrust - just blind, uncontrolled power. Fire one of these babies up ‘raw’, and you’re likely to have your head stuck in a tree two seconds later!” He chuckled again and lit his horn. “You need that magic subtlety added in. Not only does it provide the rest of the lift, the way inherent pegasus magic works, but it controls the course and speed.” He doused his horn, “It’s easier for unicorns of course, but even earth ponies can get by on the Mark One system, using the optic sensors in those goggles you wear with it. Blinking for speed settings, moving your eyes for turns...just gotta be careful not to get distracted and stare in the wrong direction!”

Quantum stood up straight, forcing her giddiness down, and cleared her throat. “Well I’m sure everypony is very excited about your work...mister...er...” she faltered, “...professor...”

The unicorn brightened at the use of a title. “Yes! Professor Golden Notion! I’m an inventor. And...well...” he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “Thank you for your...recognition. For one in your station, I’m flattered to have your support.”

Quantum was still trying to contain her enthusiasm, “Are you kidding? How could anypony not support such a fantastic invention! This is the epitome of progress!”

Golden Notion glanced around as if suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I’m...pleased you think so. Most ponies from every tribe seem to agree, but there are some pegasi out there who...support the idea that machines like this could never be safe enough to be practical. The idea that ponies without wings were born that way for a reason. I apologize to say this in your presence, but...” he lowered his voice, “...I think they feel threatened.”

Quantum felt an instant pang of sympathy for Golden Notion. Even before she’d built her first automatic apple peeler, she had known how it felt for other fillies in the sandbox to mumble in hushed tones whenever she built a random shape that only she could recognize as the next big blow for science. She reached out and patted the professor’s shoulder.

“Stay the course,” she offered. “One day ponies will wonder how they ever lived without inventions like these.”

Professor Notion beamed and blushed at the same time. “Th-thank you...! Now all we have to do is perfect cloud-grip horseshoes, so more than just the bravest ponies will use the Mark One to come to cities like Cloudsdale!” He reached over the side of the patch of asphalt he was standing on and probed his hoof at the barrier of clouds there, easily pushing straight through them. “Alas, actually walking on clouds is still just a pegasus thing.”

Intrigued, Quantum reached out and probed the cloud as well. She felt a spongy, soft substance under her hoof...but the cloud did not give way. Notion laughed again.

“Were you expecting anything different? At any rate, I’d like to get this contraption off of me before I sweat thirty pounds off, so, if you please!”

Quantum smiled and politely waved Professor Golden Notion away. She had a million questions, but without knowing who she was or why she was here, she forced herself not to ask them. As she watched the lanky, middle-aged stallion trot away, it occurred to her that she could very well be as old as he was, if not older. She turned to the statue again, staring dumbly.

“I’d be...about...”

“Fifty.” A familiar voice completed the thought. Quantum heard the wooshing noise that always preceded that voice, and felt on some instinctual level the familiar presence behind her that wasn’t actually there.

“Thirty-six,” She insisted. “The statue says it’s twenty-fifty.”

Quantum’s ears swiveled at the sound of familiar booping noises as her constant companion spoke. “That statue is fourteen years old, Cutie. Tizzy says this is the year two-thousand sixty-four.”

Memories dawned on Quantum as suddenly as the light of a new invention, and she whirled on Hal’s hovering form with no heed for volume or decorum. “Hal! What happened!? Do you remember anything? There was a flash of light the moment I took a swing at myself, and suddenly I was here, and I was falling, and I thought great, maybe I’m about to die, maybe I-maybe we failed, but now I’m up here, and it’s...and we’re in the future! Isn’t that awesome!? Can you imagine the kind of technology they’ve developed in the past thirty years!? I can’t wait to--”

“Shhhh!” Hal hissed, his eyes traveling to a few ponies who were now giving Quantum strange looks. “Cut it out! I’ll explain everything, but not here! Go...um...” he glanced around again, “Go behind the statue. Doesn’t look like the bench back there gets used much.”

Quantum obeyed, but the moment her rump touched the wooden planks of the bench, she was alive again with questions. Hal sought to sift his way through the assault.

“First of all, I don’t know anything more than you do about what happened to us. I saw you take a swing at yourself, I pushed the button to activate the interference pulse, and...I woke up in the imaging chamber.” He shrugged, “As far as Tissy and even Princess Twilight are concerned, you and I succeeded in keeping my life on track by you posing as me and ensuring I didn’t go to the dance. They thought I’d just fainted and took me out to dinner.” He hesitated, “Cutie, I think maybe we should keep what really happened to ourselves a secret. At least for now. Nopony else seems to remember anything the same way we do, and I don’t think it’s going do any good for what few supporters we have out there to think we’ve time-crimed one too many times.”

Quantum nodded her agreement. There was nothing else to be learned about the matter, or how both of them could even recollect it in the first place, for the time being. She went on.

“So fill me in. Who am I? What’s going on? Why am I here? Am I a pegasus again? Because if I am, we’re in deep kimchi because you know I can’t just--”

“Hey sqiurt! I thought I’d find you back here!”

The sudden cry from over Quantum’s shoulder stunned her into silence. Hal was staring. Quantum turned.

“I used to come here too for a little mental break,” the voice offered, “Of course the statue wasn’t here at the time. They totally put that up to commemorate my retirement. HUGE loss to Equestria, the day I hung it up!”

Quantum recognized Rainbow Dash right away. How could she not? In her time, this mare was among the most famous living ponies, captain of the Wonderbolts in her own right, and the famed Elemental Keeper of Loyalty. Quantum had only actually met her once or twice, but she felt awed simply to be in the presence of a pony who had been such a close friend and confidant to her mentor, Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Rainbow Dash looked...old. Her knees were knobby; her mane and tail faded with age. Her back was slightly stooped with a pronounced sway in it, and her once taught, cyan coat was sagging over her collarbone and jowls. Atop her head she wore a flight cap with a number of gilded badges – high honors both from the Wonderbolts and the royal house itself. She stepped over, put her hoof on Quantum’s lower lip, and gently pushed the younger mare’s mouth closed.

“Hey, I know I’m still totally awesome,” Dash grinned, “But you don’t have to be that obvious about how much you and everypony else envies me. You’ve done pretty good for yourself too, little buddy. I mean, not as good as me, but let’s be reasonable here!”

Quantum shook herself back to reality and grimaced inwardly. There hadn’t been time to get any information, so she had little choice but to keep playing the game. “So um...f-fancy meeting you here, uh, isn’t it...?”

Dash threw back her head and emitted a wheezy cackle. “Aw geez, if anypony had said that to me twenty years ago I’d have laughed them right offa this field! But yeah, I guess you’re right.” She glanced at the statue and the airstrip beyond, and her smile faltered. “Hey, come on out and trot with me.”

Confused by the sudden change in demeanor, Quantum fell in with the living legend. Nearly everypony they encountered stopped to pay their respects, but Quantum was surprised to find just as many of them also offering her at least a respectful nod or bow. She returned the gestures as haltingly as Dash did.

“So how’re the Hearthswarming preparations going?” Dash asked. Quantum looked around at the hanging lights and mounds of snow she’d nearly forgotten about up until now.

“O-oh!” She waved a foreleg at a decorated tree, “Pretty good, huh?”

Dash cracked a smile. “Yeah. Hey listen, you’re still gonna put on a little show for the season, right? I mean the usual little thing for the locals?”

Quantum bubbled over with nervous laughter. “I, uh...sure, of course! L-like every year!”

“Yeah well...” Dash stopped before she was in earshot of another group of young Wonderbolt reservists, obliging Quantum to halt as well. “...I wanna be in it this year.”

Quantum looked the old nag that Rainbow Dash had become over and blinked. “A-are you...sure you wanna do that?”

Dash clouded over with an expression that bordered somewhere between anger and frustration. Quantum dropped her ears and let the elder mare speak.

“Look, I know I haven’t turned out for it in years. I get it. I’m old now, and I’m not the fastest pony in Equestria anymore, but...I’m still the fastest record breaker ever!” Dash persisted, “I gotta do this. I gotta...feel that speed again. Out there in my uniform. It’s just hanging in a museum now. I want to...wear it again. One more time.”

Quantum felt ashamed for even questioning the pegasus beside her. “One more time?”

Dash waved off the question. “Never mind that. I just...I really wanna do this. I’m not asking for much. Just, you’re the captain now. So it’s your call. I wanna fly again. Just...fly with the Wonderbolts again, that’s all. Nothing fancy.”

Quantum saw the sincerity in Rainbow Dash’s eyes. The wear, the age.

The pleading.

“Whattaya say?” Dash asked softly. “One more time with your old Captain? For the books?” She swallowed, “...soaring higher, together?”

Quantum felt somewhat mortified. She spoke, and her words came out an instant before she noticed Hal, who was floating just over Rainbow Dash’s shoulder, frantically making cut-throat gestures with his hoof.

“...sure you can,” Quantum heard herself say. “Who am I to say otherwise?”

Dash’s brightening was inversely proportional to Hal’s darkening. She reached out and nabbed Quantum’s hoof, shaking it firmly.

“It’s set, then! You won’t forget this, little buddy!” Dash stood back and flexed her wings, preparing to take flight. “It’s gonna be the awesomest show ever! You’ll see!”

Before Quantum could say anything else, Dash took to the sky, only to come down again on Quantum’s opposite side. The minty mare turned abruptly to meet her.

“Hey,” Dash’s voice was low, and she drew in close. “Were you talking to that crackpot inventor pony before?”

Quantum swallowed. “Uh...no? Yes...? Maybe?”

Dash smiled, her expression thankfully softening, and let out a chuckle. “Can you believe that guy? What’s next?” She put a hoof to her forehead, “Are they gonna make us artificial horns? Believe you me, I’ve had my wings longer than he’s even been alive, and I can tell you that unicorns and earth ponies weren’t meant to fly. Just like you and I weren’t meant to do...magic and farming stuff. Everypony’s got a role, and Equestria works best when we all stick to it.”

Finally, Dash was in the air for good. She saluted and flitted back into the city, Quantum watching her until her tail was out of sight.

“...what you did!?” Hal was prattling, “Do you have any idea what you just did!?”

“Huh...?” Quantum turned to her frazzled companion. “What I did?” She thought about it, “I dunno, was that bad? Rainbow Dash is like the ultimate Wonderbolts legend, isn’t she? I can’t really say no--”

“Yes you can!” Hal insisted. “Or you could have, but now it’s too late! Ugh, you’re always bull-rushing into everything...”

Quantum made sure the coast was clear before replying. “What’s the deal? I mean I know she’s old, but--”

“She’s almost eighty!” Hal supplied. He began furiously booping on his device. “Tissy says...well...okay, Tissy’s having a little trouble getting exact details. Apparently the future is harder to work with since there are no actual records from our own time to consult. But Tissy says--” He turned the display so Quantum could view the readouts, “Duh duh. Same thing you should know. Legend or not, Rainbow Dash is an old mare in this era. She’s gonna get hurt, and in case you forgot, you can’t fly out to help her!”

Quantum glanced at an earth pony flying lazily across the sky. “I’ll just use one of those things.”

Hal bapped his own forhead. “No you won’t!” He sputtered, and finally pointed to a thick window that gave off a faintly reflective surface in the glint of the sun. “Look!”

Quantum finally got a look at herself. She lifted her forelegs and pranced in place. In the reflective surface, a biscuit-colored pegasus stallion with a handsome chocolate mane did the same. Quantum craned her neck, checking herself over. This stallion was old, but not nearly as elderly as Rainbow Dash. Hal spoke.

“Your name is Pound Cake. You’re fifty-two years old, and you’ve been the captain of the Wonderbolts for almost a decade and a half, succeeding Rainbow Dash. You’re getting close to retirement yourself.”

Quantum considered the facts, the wheels in her head grinding along. “I thought...didn’t Rainbow Dash have another progeny? A...mare?” Recognition struck her, “Yeah, I met her once. She was like thirty-something in our time. Her name was...umm...”

“Scootaloo,” Hal offered, bringing up the data on his device. “Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash are close like sisters, but Scootaloo got her cutie mark when you and I were in diapers. Her destiny was different. She never joined the Wonderbolts.” Hal pointed at the reflection in the mirror, “Pound Cake became Dash’s flying protege, and the data says he’s a savant at it. He was in the air before most pegasi ever learn to use their wings, and while he’s apparently not quite as good as Dash was in her prime, he’s still a legend in his own right.”

Quantum made the image of Pound Cake do a raspberry. “Well, we’re sunk then. You’re a rug-cutter, not a cloud-cutter, and I don’t know a damn thing about flying. There’s no way in hell you can teach me to fly like that in...how long to we have?”

“A week.”

“A week. Again with the one week thing.” Quantum rubbed the bridge of her muzzle. “Great. Doom and gloom, doom and gloom. And I can’t wear one of those snazzy jetpack thingies because...”

“You saw how Dash reacted to those,” Hal answered the implied question. “It’s probably not going to look too good for the captain of the Wonderbolts to strap one of those contraptions on at all, much less during a show. You’ve got to make some attempt to be the pony you’re pretending to be, remember.”

Quantum sighed. “Does Tissy have any causality readings yet? Any idea what I’m probably here to do, other than fall to my death?”

Hal booped. “Eighty-nine point nine says Dash is the reason you’re here.”

Quantum saw that coming. “Mmhm. Dash wants a blaze of glory, and my job is to help her get it, right? Maybe inspire some colts and fillies to save Equestria someday too?”

Hal paused...then shook his head. Solemnly, he slipped his device back into the pocket protector of his argyle purple turtleneck.

“No. You have to stop her.”

“What?”

“You have to stop her,” Hal repeated. “Tissy says that figure I gave you is the percentage chance Rainbow Dash is not only going to participate in that event, but once she gets in the air, she’s going to go off half-cocked and try to pull off a sonic rainboom...” Hal looked down. “...and die in the process.”

Quantum’s ears flattened again. “Well, she...I mean I don’t wanna sound like a ghoul, but...she’s an old nag now, so...maybe this is how she wants to go out? Maybe she knows the consequences?”

Hal just shook his head. “That’s not the problem. The problem is, if she dies suddenly like that, there will be no successor to the Element of Loyalty. One will eventually be chosen of course, but until that happens,” Hal explained, “Until the element is magically bound to a new keeper, the Elements of Harmony will be powerless. Tissy says something bad will happen.”

Quantum scrunched her muzzle. “That’s it? Just ‘something bad will happen’?”

Hal took to absently floating on his wings again. “It’s like I said. Reading the future is harder than reading the past. Tissy fast forwarded to a year after today, and there was nothing left of Equestria but a wasteland. The headlines spoke of some calamity having to do with something...evil, striking Equestria at just the right moment. With no Elements of Harmony to stop it.”

Quantum felt a thickness in her throat. Hal’s eyes met hers as he floated into her personal space bubble and phased a hoof against her cheek.

“Tissy says this might be the last time Rainbow Dash ever gets to perform before an audience, but she can’t die without naming a successor. You’ve got to dash Dash’s dreams, Cutie. For the good of all Equestria.”

Quantum closed her eyes and tried to remember the touch of her companion’s hoof, back in the white space.

“Why do these things always have to be so hard?”

Prologue 1 - The Limits of Friendship

October 16, 2039

Canterlot

Sunday

“Prisoner eight four seven two,” a rough voice announced. “Breakfast.”

With a dissonance not unlike hoofs on a chalkboard, a dingy metal plate slid under an open panel in a barred gate, which quickly snapped shut after disgorging its offering. The sound echoed through gray, empty corridors; adding its song to the many others that signaled the coming of sustenance for the inmates of the low security ward.

A mint-coated mare, the sole resident of cell #8472 in block three, pressed her hooves to her ears and gritted her teeth, waiting for the wave of awful screeching to pass down another hall. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell upon the brownish, processed fruit and vegetable matter that served as every square meal for residents of the Canterlot dungeons. She poked at the heaping mound with her hoof and watched it bounce back again, as she was wont to do before begrudgingly bending her neck to the floor to feed.

This time, something was different. There, resting at the edge of her plate, was a ragged looking fork. Her eyes wide with excitement, the minty mare examined the little object and determined it clean and just about strong enough to be employed for its intended purpose. Eating without a utensil was hardly uncommon throughout Equestria, but there was something about the lovely little implement – something that made her feel like a civilized pony again. Wasting no time, she concentrated; putting that slight amount of pressure and concentration into her horn that would be necessary to call the fork from its place, dip it into her food, and bring it to her waiting lips.

Nothing happened.

Curious, she repeated this most basic of unicorn activities three times before she remembered the truth. With a defeated sigh, she reached up to her forehead and ran her hoof along the ensorcelled, rubbery sleeve that was manacled there. Prepared specifically for inmates by magicks well beyond her abilities to countermand, the device was more than sufficient to rob her of her identity even more than confinement already had.

A deep chuckle broke up her contemplation. Looking up, she came face-to-face with the palace guard who had served her meal. His burnished helmet tottered along with the reflexive jerking of his bemused head. He lingered there on the other side of the bars, dressing her down with a reproachful stare.

“Not funny,” the mare frowned.

Not bothering to reply, the guard bellowed out an echoing guffaw before trotting away. The minty prison-mare spared what little pride she had left by waiting for him to canter out of sight before she bent down to ‘enjoy’ her meal.

Time passed. The morning meal complete, the mare slid her plate up against the bars for retrieval and set her mind to…nothing. There was nothing to do today. There had been nothing to do yesterday, or the day before that. Or the day before that. For two weeks now, life had been nothing but a cell with a hard slab bed, a sink, a mirror with a spider web crack in it, and a hole in the ground to do her business in. Sunlight mercifully streamed in every day from a window much too high to reach, carrying with it the sounds of construction ponies hard at work, repairing those parts of the city had been leveled.

Rising up on her haunches, the mare placed her forelegs on the chipped sink and gazed into the dusty mirror. The pony who looked back wasn’t the one she had been used to seeing for so many years. This pony had dusky streaks in the frizzy split-ends that normally adorned her two-toned, sea-green mane; giving her unintentional punk rock/wild professor style a gothic tinge. She was afforded the luxury of public bathing with other mare inmates, but brushes and styling products were out of the question, and it was nearly impossible to exist in a state of cleanliness in the dungeons for very long.

She ran her hoof along her cheeks and chin, touching them just to make sure the image in the mirror was really hers. The reflection repeated her every action; running the length of her smooth cheeks and connecting the dots between her freckles. Her sapphire eyes – eyes she had to admit she was vainly proud of – were hidden behind prominent gray bags that had bloated forth from her flesh due to lack of sleep. She squinted at her blurry face for a time, wishing the prison staff had at least had the decency to let her keep her glasses.

It was the face of a thug. Not the face of a potential graduate of the Canterlot Academy of Sciences, class of 2039.

Sighing, she primped herself as well as possible with her hooves and looked away, her eyes coming to rest on the undisturbed bed. It made her shudder. Since they had put her in this place, memories had become dreams…dreams she was afraid of. Less sleep meant less dreaming, but keeping herself awake at all hours by counting stars, scraping crude images into the walls, or playing with imaginary friends was becoming more difficult with each passing day. Nopony in the adjacent cells wanted to speak with her. She didn’t blame them.

When the sun reached a certain point in the early morning sky, delicate hoofsteps could be heard echoing down the corridor. Right on schedule, the minty mare thought. When the hoofsteps ceased, she spoke without turning around, knowing who would be standing there.

“Princess,” she stated dryly.

“Cutie,” a familiar voice returned hesitantly. “I thought maybe you were still asleep.”

The minty mare rose up from her stoic slump and turned to meet her visitor. She lowered her forelegs to her knees, bowing reverently before the violet, winged coat of Twilight Sparkle, Equestria’s Princess of Friendship. Averting her eyes out of decorum, she began again.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, your majesty. It’s just an old nickname.”

Twilight sniffed sharply through her muzzle. “And I told you before, in private I don’t like it when my students call me by my title. It…makes me uncomfortable.”

“I’m not your student,” the minty mare replied. “I never really was.”

The princess offered a difficult smile, “True, but it was almost the same thing. My first love has always been knowledge – being a princess just made it possible for me to found the academy of sciences eleven years ago. I may not be allowed to personally tutor any of the students…but I can’t just keep my hooves off all the time.”

The prisoner looked away. Twilight tried again.

“I don’t have to call you that, but I heard your friends using it and was flattered when you didn’t mind me doing the same. ‘Q’ and ‘T’, right? Quantum Trots. ‘Cutie’.” Twilight smiled, “It’s, well…it’s cute.”

“I don’t have any friends anymore,” Quantum mumbled from her cell.

“That’s not true,” Twilight explained, placing a hoof on the bars as if to console her prisoner from afar. “Hal and Tissy ask about you every day.”

Quantum’s ear perked up at the mention of her classmates’ names. She dared to spare a glance for the princess, and there was an unmistakable ray of hope in her eyes. “…they do?”

Twilight nodded vigorously. “Of course they do. They’re your friends. And friendship is magic.”

Quantum’s ear drooped. She clopped uselessly around the cell for a time, stretching her oft-unused legs. “They could have died because of me. I know you’re not going to tell me, but I bet some ponies actually did die. Do they not know what I did? Do they know I was thrown down here without a trial or anything, until Princess Celestia and Princess Luna decide what to do with me?”

“They do.”

“Do they know I deserve it!?” Quantum shouted indignantly.

Twilight paused for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and reassuring. “Part of the magic of friendship is forgiveness, Cutie. You’re sorry for what happened, aren’t you?”

Quantum bowed her head low, unable to look her sovereign in the eye. “…yes ma’am.”

Twilight smiled. “Then you can be forgiven. Here, I brought something for you.”

Something slid through the food gate, skidding across the floor until it bumped up against Quantum’s hoof. She squinted down at it. Realizing what it was, she lifted her glasses up and rested them in their place over the bridge of her muzzle. Everything suddenly became clearer than it had been for weeks, though none of it became any more comfortable. She examined Twilight.

“You look…exactly the same.”

Twilight grinned merrily. “Princesses don’t age the same way most ponies do. Just look at Princess Celestia.”

Quantum thought about it. At the last city festival she remembered her pseudo-mentor honoring her by introducing her to the legendary keepers of the Elements of Harmony, who were visiting from their home in Ponyville. She had only exchanged a few words with each, but it was enough to compare them with pictures Quantum had been seeing since her days looking at elementary school readers. The six of them, always together back then…except that Princess Twilight always looked the same, while the others had begun to show noticeable differences in age from the time the histories described their first encounter with the elements nearly three decades ago. Not long before Quantum was born.

For a moment nostalgia took her, and Quantum sifted back through memories of her own life. Her time growing up on the road with her mother, her acceptance into an elevator school in Baltimare, and her lifelong desire to understand things in terms of something other than magic, despite being a unicorn. She was so proud of herself when she was accepted into C.A.S., and so excited to be able to bring her mother with her out of the slums and into the royal city.

At the time, Quantum didn’t understand why her mother refused to follow her to Canterlot. Now it was all too clear. Her ears flattened again.

“You’re wrong. I can’t be forgiven.”

Twilight cocked her head to the side quizzically. “Why not?”

Quantum turned away, clopping to the far end of the cell. “Because I’m sorry for what I did ma’am, but if the circumstances were exactly the same…I’d do it again.”

“Cutie…” Twilight whispered, her eyes widening. “You’re…just overwhelmed, right now. You don’t really mean—”

Quantum sniffed, but refused to let her ruler see it. “You should go, Princess Twilight. This is no place for somepony like you to waste your time and I’m not worthy to be in your presence. Thank you for your kindness…your heart is amazingly big, and I really do appreciate that. I’m…” she swallowed, “…I’m sorry…so sorry for everything, but I meant what I said. I would do it all over again. So, I belong here in this cell, for as long as anypony wants me to be here. I know I’ll never graduate and I know they’ll probably never even let me walk around outside again. I’m ready to accept that. You should be too.”

Twilight tried a few more times to brighten the minty prisoner’s existence, but Quantum refused to speak again. The Princess of Friendship clopped away. She would return, but a thought occurred to her as she ascended the stairs. A thought she didn’t want to have.

Maybe some transgressions really were unforgivable.

1.5 - What Goes Around

September 30, 2008

Sweet Apple Acres

Tuesday

Tuesday.

Quantum awoke with a cry and a start. She looked at herself in the mirror and splashed some water on her face from a basin. Only Applejack stared back. No white pony. No menacing silhouettes.

A moment ago they had all been right there with her, even if she didn’t exactly know where ‘there’ was. They had edged closer and closer, so that she could feel them pawing at her flanks and rump; tearing at her mane and pulling her tail.

They were eager.

The minty mare remembered her mother and ventured a small smile through the thickness in her throat. Hal had said that a potential consequence of the apple famine would be Twilight Sparkle never coming to live in Ponyville at all. Maybe now, Trixie would never encounter Twilight in the first place. Maybe now, Quantum’s mother wouldn’t be consumed with vengeance and spend twenty-five years hiding her true feelings from her daughter. Maybe now she wouldn’t even find time to have a daughter.

Quantum decided that if erasing her own birth was the only thing she ever accomplished before the end, it would be enough. She swiveled her ears towards the beeps and boops coming from behind her. There was no need to turn around.

“Anything new?”

“Nah,” Hal said weakly. “You?”

“…nah.”

The two classmates stared at each other, trading helpless, worried looks. After several minutes they each blushed a color slightly darker than their coats and looked away. Hal buried his face in his control pad. Quantum sat on the hope chest, rubbing her foreleg timidly with her opposite hoof and staring out the window into the pretty, yet somehow empty morning sky.

“…how’s my mom?” She ventured.

“Fine,” Hal replied blankly, never looking up from his screen. Quantum’s brow rose with concern.

“Is she still in prison?”

“Of course.”

“Is she still okay?”

“I wouldn’t know that.”

“Does she…still hate me…?”

Hal’s expression darkened. He flexed a wing and trotted to the center of the room, booping away lazily at readouts he’d already checked moments before. “That’s none of my business. Cutie, I’m sorry but…I don’t want to talk about Trixie Lulamoon. I hope you can understand.”

“Oh,” Quantum whimpered, bowing her head. “….okay.”

Hal let out a breath and squinted, slipping his panel back into the safe confines of his pocket protector. “They’re still looking for you, you know.”

“They are?” the minty mare replied nervously, trying to distract herself with a view of the barnyard.

Hal didn’t mince words. “I’ll tell you the truth. The only reason your mother isn’t public enemy number one in our time is that she’s behind bars. You inherited that title, when you vanished even beyond Princess Celestia’s ability to locate you magically. Ponies spread rumors, and the popular one right now is that you’re a master criminal who orchestrated a daring escape.” He smirked sharply, “Pretty soon they’re going to be telling foals scary stories about you to get them to go to bed at night.”

Quantum didn’t return Hal’s sarcastic demeanor. All she could think about was the white pony, and its cryptic warning should she fail to pay her debt. She gazed out at the countryside, wondering if at some point it would all just fade away into white light, and be the last thing she ever saw.

“Ninety-three point one percent, huh?” She mused allowed. Thinking he was being questioned, Hal retrieved his control device and beeped at it some more.

“Ninety-one point four, actually.”

Quantum blinked and perked her ears. “What? Last night you said Tissy calculated a ninety-three point one percent chance the apple harvest would fail.”

Hal shrugged. “So? Ninety-three, ninety-one…what difference does it make?”

Quantum persisted, “Why did the percentage drop?”

The robust, toasty orange pegasus stallion beeped and inspected, finally giving up. “Dunno. Who cares? You know how Tissy is – she can run advanced calculations through her head like anypony else can get a song stuck in their brain, and she’s always checking her numbers; probably even in her sleep. It was probably just a margin-for-error adjustment.”

Quantum fixed her companion with a look. “Hal…Tissy’s blown stuff up before, but when it comes to numbers have you ever known her to voluntarily give out an incorrect figure?”

Hal didn’t look impressed at his classmate’s reasoning. “One time I told her to spike the blackberry punch at a party with six ounces of turnip rum, and she used six quarts. Best dorm shebang I ever went to.”

“I mean when it’s important!” Quantum snapped, pretending to poke buttons with her hoofs. “Go beep-boop some more rainbows up on that thing you’re holding. Something has to have changed!”

Hal raised his brows in suspect, but chose to humor his friend. A few seconds later, he shook his ebony, frosty-tipped mane from side to side again. “Nothing’s changed. I’m telling you, it was a fluke.” When he looked up, he found the minty mare standing in front of Applejack’s vanity mirror, fitting the cowfilly hat around her horn. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Quantum checked Applejack’s face in the mirror as if it were her own, “Something changed. I’m going to go find out what.”

Hal stood on his hind legs and folded his forelegs over his chest. “We talked about this. Every minute you spend wandering around town like everything is hunky-dory is another minute, hour, or possibly even day Applejack will remain sick. You can’t save these ponies. At least make things better for your host.”

The minty unicorn wasn’t listening. She had a hoof stuck in one ear, and the other ear pressed up against the door. “They locked it last night so I’m going to have to make some noise to get out. You’re a hologram – go through the wall and check to see if the coast is clear.”

Hal didn’t move. Quantum narrowed her eyes.

“Fine Hal, don’t help me. But you’re not stopping me. If you don’t like what I’m doing than just stay out of my way.”

In a single motion, Quantum spun on her hooves and bucked the door as hard as her scrawny body would allow. She wondered just how closely interconnected her physical being was to Applejack’s when the door flew clean off its hinges and landed in a clattering heap halfway down the hall, taking a few pictures from the wall with it. Wincing an apology to the earth ponies still staring at her from photographs, she trotted down the hall and took the steps two at a time. When she was outside the house, a white pane of light appeared before her just long enough to deposit a floating, angry, burnt-orange pegasus directly in her path.

“You really are coltcrap crazy!” Hal fumed. “You said you wouldn’t make any more trouble for anypony, but you still don’t understand the consequences of your actions! Think of the—look at the numbers!” he sputtered and held up his colorful control device, “The chance of the harvest failing is down to ninety-one point three, but the chance that Applejack will die is up to seventy-four point eight! It’s rising too fast! Whatever you think you’re going to do, it’s not going to be enough!”

Quantum kept on coming. “Numbers are just numbers,” she stubbornly insisted. “Can’t live your whole life worrying about the numbers.”

Hal, who was of a significantly greater girth than his classmate, stayed in her path. “You’re going to have to go through me first.”

Shrugging, the minty mare calmly cantered right through her toasty, holographic companion.

“Oh for the love of—!” Hal spat. He flexed his wings and fluttered to keep pace with Quantum’s rapidly increasing gait. After failing to get her attention several times, he pulled out his device and examined it aloud. “Seventy-four point nine…seventy-five…seventy-five point two...point six…Cutie, please, stop this…”

But Quantum Trots would not be deterred. A breeze caught the cowfilly hat and sent it spiraling from its precarious balancing act atop her horn. Ignoring it, she sped to a trot and then a modest gallop towards the back forty. When Hal pled for Applejack’s life again, Quantum spoke up.

“I don’t know her personally Hal, but I’m willing to bet her life…and mine…that she wouldn’t want it to end this way any more than I do.”

Hal called out numbers for a few more seconds…and then gave up. He glanced at his device only long enough to note that the percentage chance of the apple famine had again slightly decreased. Worry gave way to curiosity, and soon enough Hal found himself wearing an expression as inlaid with steely determination as his classmate. He followed her to the edge of the orchard, plunging beyond it towards the clearing where the single apple tree had been felled the day before.

Both minty mare and toasty stallion stopped dead at the scene before them. No less than seventy ponies of all colors, sizes and ages, had descended upon Sweet Apple Acres. Stallions and mares alike were bucking trees and pulling all manner of carts and wagons intended for dozens of different purposes around the fields. Colts and fillies were sorting produce, while foals were grinning away, carrying single stray apples in their teeth to the waiting wagons. Hal fumbled for his control device, nearly dropping it, and booped away furiously while checking his display in shock.

“Eighty-one point four,” he stammered. “Eighty…seventy-four point one…sixty…thirty-nine…Tissy says, Tissy says…” The grin that split his face would have made a watermelon explode. “Seventeen point one and dropping! Hot dang Cutie, you DID it! Tissy says the whole town gets together to complete the apple harvest successfully!” Huffing out excited breaths, Hal went on, “No famine, no blaming, no economic depression…and Twilight Sparkle arrives in Ponyville in 2010 right on schedule!”

While Hal sped up into the air and did a somersault, Quantum looked on in utter amazement. “But…but I didn’t do anything…I had nothing to do with this at all…”

Hal pointed towards a group of fast approaching ponies. “Like Celestia you didn’t!” He chuckled. At the head of the group was Rarity, wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat and an elegant yet sturdy looking shawl. A look of concern marred her trendy features as she reared herself to a stop.

“Applejack dear!” Rarity huffed, “Whatever are you doing out of bed? You could get hurt!”

Quantum fumbled to re-establish her accent, and then just let it drop. “What…what in Equestria is everypony doing here…?”

“Well darling,” the white fashionista began, grinning broadly, “I overheard your sister talking to my sister about the trouble with the harvest, and I just had to let everypony know about it. I mean, however could we not turn out to repay you after all you did for us the other day in town? Why, I personally would never have made my deadlines that day if not for you!”

Quantum made a face, “But...your deadlines, didn’t meeting them just make things wor—”

“Ix-nay!” Hal cut in, making a cut throat motion with his hoof from above the crowd. “Applejack isn’t supposed to know about that!”

Rarity’s smile faltered, just for an instant, but she quickly reestablished it. Other ponies moved in to surround Quantum, all expressing their thanks for her help, their desire to return the favor, and other positive comments such as the honest labor being good for themselves and their families. Quantum felt a warmth surge through her that she hadn’t known in years – the warmth of family that had since been cooled by the antiseptic nuances of her everyday life. She grinned stupidly, picturing the white pony and its dark companions.

Take that! Quantum thought to herself, and then out loud: “Yeeee-haw! How’d ya like them apples, demon-shadow pony thingy!?”

The crowd, satisfied with their expressions of thanks, dispersed back to their work. Only a small, pale yellow filly remained. She looked up at Quantum with curious eyes.

“Demon shadow pony thingy, sis?”

This time, Quantum would not be tripped up. She only smiled, and ruffled Applebloom’s mane with one hoof. “Nawwthin’ sis. I’s just funnin’ wiff yuu.”

Applebloom scrunched her muzzle up at the strange words, and then just shrugged, smiling broadly. “Sis…lissen, ah..ah’m real sorry ‘bout yesterday.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Naw,” Applebloom insisted, “Ah dunno what’s come over ya lately, but what y’done back in Ponyville…well, it was right sweet, real neighborly, and well…” she indicated the apple trees with a wide sweep of a foreleg, “Just lookit what’s come of it! A-ah didn’t wanna tell ya, but…but Big Mac an’ me…we could never have done it all by our lonesomes.” She grinned, “Ah’m glad y’all are here, even if it does mean ya went back on yer word from yesterday.”

Quantum smirked. “All you said was to ‘git’. You didn’t say for how long.”

Applebloom giggled and wrapped her faux-big sister in a warm embrace. “Y’done real good sis, an’ ya did it in a way that done brought the whole town t’gether. Ah’m real proud.”

Quantum snugged Applejack’s little sister as if she were her own. She mingled with the crowd for a time, pretending to inspect the work as though she knew what she was doing. Hal fluttered up.

“Look sick,” he called down.

“Eh?”

“Look sick,” Hal repeated, grinning. “Did you forget about that part? I think poor Applejack’s body has done enough, don’t you?”

“Oh!” Quantum cried. When she accidentally drew too much attention, she quickly looked away from Hal, forced herself to stagger, and emitted a nasty string of deep, fake coughs she hoped would sound real. The ruse worked. Several ponies absolutely insisted Quantum ride back to the Apple house in a cart, and were more than happy to oblige taking her. Smug and sure of herself, the minty mare waited until her litter-bearers weren’t paying attention before turning to her classmate again.

“Does Tissy know how long it will take for Applejack to get better?”

Hal beeped, booped, and furrowed his brow. “Actually…no. No she doesn’t…” he smacked the side of his device and frowned at it, “wait, that can’t be right…”

Quantum raised her brows with concern. “What?”

“The percentage chance of Applejack exhausting herself to death hasn’t changed. But that doesn’t make any sense. With all that’s happened, there’s no need for her to exert herself anymore.” Hal examined his display, “Why wouldn’t the numbers drop?”

Quantum pondered an answer, but her train of thought was derailed when she noticed something on the horizon. The sun was past its apex and beginning its descent, but just in line with its light – so well aligned that Quantum couldn’t be sure from squinting – was an outline of a pony. Its entire body was covered in a white garment that now looked to the minty mare to be more like a sheet or shroud, with an empty face so black, it seemed to suck in and devour everything the afternoon sun touched. Ponyville pegasi fluttered back and forth past the being, going about the apple harvest without taking any notice of the newcomer. The pony’s ‘face’ was aimed directly at Quantum.

Quantum yelped.

Hal looked up, “What? Did you figure something out?” The look on his friend’s face gave him pause. He pondered a moment, and realized in four years of friendship, he’d never once seen her sporting a look of such abject horror. He followed her gaze and held up a hoof to shield his eyes from the sun. “What’s the matter? Did you see something weird?”

Quantum never took her eyes off of whatever she was looking at, but she tapped at Hal’s pad forcefully, her hoof going right through it each time. “Applejack! Does she live or die?”

The ponies who were seeing to the pace of Applejack’s cart glanced back. Hal typed away, Quantum’s sudden severity quickening his pace.

“I don’t know. The number just…won’t change. Though…something else is happening,” he looked directly at Quantum, “something to you. There’s a surge in your molecular structure. Maybe…maybe you’re about to—”

The white pony reared, spun his forelegs, and galloped directly towards Quantum. A sheet of two-toned blue fire enveloped the minty mare, invasively blocking all of her senses.

The flames returned to nothingness as quickly as they spawned. When they were gone, everything was different.

Sweet Apple Acres was gone.

4.1 - The Limits of Friendship (Redux)

November 7, 2039

Canterlot

Monday

Hal checked his pack.

Rummaging around inside the canvas shoulder bag he sometimes carried his textbooks in, his hoof poked against each item he would need to tackle his day – three extra pencils; a garish notepad inlaid with gems that were probably worth more than what an average pony earned in a year; two rutabagas; and the tiny teddy bear he’d been stuffing somewhere on his person, ever since his mother gave it to him and told him it had special powers to make him more confident on the primary school playground.

The pencils were there because his pocket protector was pulling other duties these days. The notepad wasn’t his style, but he had little choice in the matter. The rutabagas were a critical necessity, and the teddy bear was his best kept secret.

As he stood before the mirror, adjusting the collar of his gold and purple checkered turtleneck and arranging each spike of his frosty-tipped mane with the alacrity of the upper crust, Hal turned his thoughts to his best friends - the two mares who had accepted him for who he was back in freshman year. He’d made other friends since then, but those two had always been the ones he felt he could truly be himself around.

One of them was coltcrap crazy. The other one was a self-declared mass murderer.

Shaking the remaining sleep out of his brain with a few sharp swishes of his head, he set out for his destination; wary as usual to change up his route, backtrack a few times, and ensure that nopony was following him.

* * * *

The blasted hallway of the science wing hadn’t changed an iota since the day of the conflagration, and Hal was getting used to seeing it this way. The building was condemned – the engineer corps had declared it a total loss, and the Canterlot Academy of Sciences had already seen fit to transfer all of the classes that were once held here to other buildings on campus. The structurally unsound building would someday be bulldozed – of that Hal had no doubt, but a certain somepony with a lot of clout had secretly promised to keep that from happening as long as possible. It was the same pony who had approved both Hal and Tissy’s requests to pursue ‘private study’, and thus remain unfettered by the daily demands of university life. An average student might have seen it as a free pass to goof off, but neither of the two independent students could remember a time when they were busier.

The only sound echoing in the empty halls was the hum from that machine – the device they had affectionately dubbed the ‘Quantum Vault’. Hal might have heard the echo of his hoofsteps first, but he had since taken to hovering to the Accelerator lab on his burnt-orange wings in the morning. There was something about listening to the clopping rhythm of hooves on linoleum while passing the skeletal husks of familiar old classrooms that made him feel uneasy. The condition of the building was one thing, but he wasn’t certain he could ever find it in his heart to become accustomed to the silence. Since the building was condemned, the school board had disallowed the students from returning to collect their materials – thus, every room he passed was still outfitted and filled with projects as though the students were simply out to lunch.

Hastening the beating of his wings, Hal turned the corner and slipped into the one remaining laboratory that didn’t feel like a village of the dead.

The room looked much better than it had the first time he’d seen it after the disaster. They’d had to work in secret, but Hal and Tissy managed to remove most of the crumbled masonry and set up a generator to take care of the overhead fluorescent lighting and various electronics. The walls were still cracked, but the fact remained that the two of them simply weren’t carpenters. Even if they had been, the building itself was just too far gone to have much in the way of expectations for it. Hal thought maybe that was a good thing, as the unfamiliar surroundings served to blunt his nostalgic impulses.

As always, Hal found himself shading his eyes with a foreleg before they adjusted themselves to the gleaming light and white walls that made this place look like a vision of the afterlife.

“Tissy?”

Hal heard typing. He turned to find a wine-colored mare seated at her usual desk, tapping away on her usual keyboard and staring blankly at her usual screen. Her poofy, powdery mane of cyan blue licked her ears and curled back from her body in cascading waves. It was really quite beautiful, but Hal couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it groomed past the level of bedhead. He landed and trotted over to his companion, smiling softly and reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“Tissy, did you go back to your room last night? You know you need to go back and sleep every night like we talked about, right?”

Tissy’s muzzle was hewn from stone, and the glassy look in her eyes suggested she hadn’t done any such thing. Hal sighed. After failing to draw her attention by waving a hoof in front of her face, he glanced at the screen and found deep sets of arithmetic calculations – streams of numbers so long and so complex that even he, bright enough to win himself a scholarship to the most prominent academy in Equestria’s capital city, couldn’t begin to fathom.

“What’cha working on?” He offered, continuing the conversation himself without waiting for a reply. “That’s some pretty snazzy number crunching you’ve got going on there. I’m gonna say you’re either calculating the value of pi, creating a utopian society, or just tapping on keys because it’s fun.

The pegasus laughed. The earth mare didn’t. Hal settled down.

“I brought you some breakfast.”

On the heels of his announcement, Hal sifted through his pack, retrieved one of the rutabagas, and unceremoniously tossed it right at the mare, who caught it in her teeth and began chewing on it, raw, without taking her attention from her work. The second one was for lunch. Hal never brought three, even though that usually meant he had to go and find another. Bringing one to cover dinner felt too much like he was giving up trying to get Tissy to go out into the world. He wasn’t sure what the mare liked about raw rutabagas, but it was the only thing he’d ever seen her eat.

“Anyway,” Hal went on amidst the sound of chewing, “Any updates? Have you been able to triangulate Cutie’s new position?”

Hal knew his ears weren’t going to be any use in this conversation. He stood behind Tissy and got a quick look of her goofy, tummy-filled grin in the reflection of the monitor before she switched to a word processor and began typing. Her words per minute made court stenographers look illiterate. Hal continued his one-sided conversation as he read.

“…no, huh? Alright, well…as soon as you do, let me know. I’ve got to get a report about the last vault to Princess Twilight today. I just…”

Trailing off his words, Hal found himself staring at that huge, power hungry contraption that took up a large chunk of the room. The Accelerator hummed patiently back at him. The cables hooked up to it and components scattered around it reminded him of bones outside a dragon’s lair. He’d once looked on the ‘Quantum Vault’ with so much promise. Now, he just wasn’t sure what to make of the machine.

The pegasus felt pressure. He looked down to find Tissy’s deep wine-colored hoof covering his. He read the screen and smiled.

“You’re right. Eyes on the prize and hooves in the game. We’ll get her back somehow.” He patted Tissy’s shoulder affectionately. “I’ll be back with lunch. You’re going to bed tonight even if I have to carry you there.”

It was neither an empty threat nor the first time he’d have to act on it.

Ten minutes later, Hal found himself trotting under gray, overcast skies to the one place in the entire city nopony wanted to be – the residential district. The air was still misty from the previous night’s downpour, and the cold of winter was setting in early. The toasty pegasus thought it a shame, since autumn was his favorite season. Glancing about at the rubble of blasted homes, he reminded himself that there was no longer any life in this area to denote the passing of seasons anyway.

“Halifax Calavanner.”

At the sound of a name only his mother ever used, Hal turned his attention to the Princess of Friendship, whose illustrious presence seemed so out of place on such mournful, quiet streets. He took a knee.

“Your Highness.”

“Hal,” Twilight chuckled softly, “You know how I feel about bowing when I’m not at court. Especially from one of my students.”

Hal perked with some confusion and got back to his hooves. “One of your students?”

Twilight smiled. “I consider every student at C.A.S. to be one of my students. You’re all working towards the betterment of ponykind. I’m proud to be a part of it.”

“…oh.” Hal nodded with understanding. “I just thought…well. Cutie was your student. Ma’am.”

A stray, mottled shaft of sunlight glinted off of Twilight’s mane. It would have caught and refracted the beauty of her crown, had she been wearing it. She frowned and chose to digress. “You have a report for me?”

Hal cleared his throat and began rummaging through his pack for the gilded, royal-looking notepad. Just resting the official-looking thing in his hooves encouraged him to straighten his back and puff out his chest before he began reiterating the events of the last few subjective days to the princess. Twilight kept her silence until the young scientist’s recital was complete.

“Nothing changed,” Twilight stated flatly.

“Ma’am?”

Twilight smiled again – the way she smiled when lecturing as a special guest in any number of campus classes. “You’re going to ask me if anything Cutie did changed anything in her mother. Furthermore, you’ve been fighting back the urge to ask me if Applejack, whom you know to be a close personal friend of mine, remembers anything about having the flu during an apple harvest thirty years ago. The short answer to the latter question is no. Not no no – inconclusive no. Applejack has been harvesting apples about as long as I’ve been in books, and this one, single event is simply buried too far into antiquity to stand out.”

“And…the former?” Hal ventured.

“As I said,” Twilight replied. “The world is still the world. Trixie Lulamoon is still in a maximum security dungeon. She’s severely mentally ill. She spends what little lucid time she isn’t buried in the past either missing her daughter, or cursing her. Asking her anything about a club in Baltimare she once worked at is an exercise in futility. And as always, the only reason she isn’t public enemy number one is that she’s safely behind bars. On the other hoof, a certain other mare a large portion of the populace would like to see dangling at the end of a rope is still at large.

Hal felt himself wince under his sovereign’s rough words. He glanced out over the scorched remains of what was once a small park just to avoid making eye contact.

“Quantum is my friend.”

“I know,” Twilight replied.

“I’m…going to help her however I can. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“That’s why I put you on this project in the first place. You and Tissy. To be frank, there are no other ponies in all of Equestria – not even my closest friends or Princess Celestia herself, who I’d trust not to just destroy the Accelerator and be done with it.

Hal scoffed. “I thought friendship is magic.”

“It is.”

Hal didn’t have to touch his cheeks to feel the blood boiling in them. Forgetting his place, he turned his grimace upon the princess. “I don’t care what Cutie says. She DIDN’T do it! Celestia love her, she’s just covering for her mother, despite what Trixie did. Why can’t ponies see that? Why do I have to listen to ponies going on and on every day about hunting down my best friend and tearing her to pieces in ways so vile just hearing it makes me want to lose my lunch all over the sidewalk?” His chest began to heave, “With all we are and all this nation stands for, how can ponies be so cruel as to say things like that!? Even if they think she did it, what good does it do to murder a murderer!? Where does it all end? How can friendship be magic if we’re all hung up on hate!? Cutie is my friend. I forgave her. Why can’t anypony else!?”

Twilight’s brows narrowed, but she didn’t dignify the outburst with a response. Turning on her heels with a royal poise it took her years to learn, she began slowly walking down the street.

“Walk with me, Hal.”

Feeling suddenly embarrassed for his outburst, Hal fell in with the princess.

For a time, there was silence. The two of them trotted down an empty street in what used to be one of the most crowded parts of town. Hal found himself cowed by the change in the décor – the masonry, once just shattered and broken, was worn away in places the closer they got to ground zero; as if it had partially disintegrated. There where shadowy imprints passing by under his hooves – blades of grass that had once existed, but had instantly vaporized this close to the epicenter of the blast, leaving behind burned effigies in the very stone itself. Just as Hal was about to ask the princess where they were headed, she stopped abruptly and turned to him.

“I want you to see something,” Twilight commanded, her voice calm and even. “Look there.”

The burnt-orange pegasus followed his sovereign’s hoof until his eyes came upon a framed photograph, propped up against a portion of a ruined wall. The picture was surrounded by bouquets of fresh chrysanthemums, and it depicted a young stallion with a vermillion coat and a shock of blue mane. He had a pair of crossed ski poles on his flank, and was grinning broadly with a few friends against a backdrop that looked like a winter ski lodge.

“Do you know him?” Twilight asked.

Hal examined the image again, sure he was being tested somehow. A moment later he had little choice but to offer the princess a confused turning up of his eyebrows. Twilight continued.

“His name was Slopes. He was in the same year as you, Quantum, and Tissy. Applied physics major. You’d think he’d have a cutie mark like yours—” Twilight pointed at the patch of argyle with an atom over it that looked like it was perfectly sewn into Hal’s flank, “but his real passion was skiing. He was a very bright student, and he was working on a self-contained motor system for ski lifts, so they wouldn’t have to be cranked or operated by pulleys. It qualified as a ‘betterment to ponykind’ because it was more efficient, required less upkeep, and most importantly, was ten times safer. His blueprints are still sitting in room A-305. You should know that room. You pass it every day on your way to the Accelerator lab.”

Hal faltered, watching the grinning stallion in the photo as if he were standing there beside them. “…what happened to—”

“When they found him,” Twilight cut in, “he was crying like a newborn foal. Two of his legs were gone—” She pointed at spots on Hal’s shoulder and flank as she spoke, “Here, and here. The other two were still attached to his body, but the bones had been pulverized into powder. His jaw was hanging off of his face, he was stone deaf, and both his cutie marks were burned clean off his body. There was a slit down the back of his skull that ran so deep you could see grey matter if you looked close enough. His mane was gone, and his tail was a stump. His left eye was hanging out of the socket—”

“Y-your highness,” Hal put his hoof to his mouth and made a gagging noise, “…please….”

“Be quiet.” Twilight ordered. Unused to the intensity in the Princess of Friendship’s voice, Hal shut his mouth and waited for her to continue.

“He had sixty-three puncture wounds from shrapnel all over his body, but not one of them was bleeding because they had all been cauterized by the heat. Eight of his vertebrae were crushed, and part of his spine was jutting out of his lower back. But Celestia help him, he was still alive. Alive, conscious, and sane enough to feel every nerve screaming at him all over his body. When the paramedics loaded him onto a stretcher, he kept begging them not to look at him. It took him two days to slip into a coma. He died fourteen hours later.” Twilight took a deep breath, as if the words were as difficult to utter as they were to hear. “His mother, father, younger brother, and his girlfriend put that photo and those flowers there. His contribution to ponykind will never come to fruition. His family insisted on a closed casket because they didn’t want to remember him the way he was found.”

Hal found he couldn’t remove his eyes from the smiling photograph. He felt that if he stared at it long enough, perhaps the smiling pony therein would simply walk back down the street to continue its life. “…why are you telling me this?”

Twilight pointed at yet another photograph. This one had no flowers. The image inside, that of a postpartum earth mare with a preemie mewling, was faded and creased to the point that Hal couldn’t make out their coloring.

“Rolling Sunbeam and her daughter, Spark. She’s younger than you. When she was a teenager she got too serious with her boyfriend and her family disowned her for getting pregnant. A lesser mare might have died on the street somewhere, but she was strong, and she refused to give up. She and her boyfriend became lovers, and eventually husband and wife. She had the baby, and the two of them put their whole lives into raising their foal right. They lived in an apartment the size of most bathrooms and sewed nearly all of their own garments. Splurging to them was buying a few pieces of fruit to go with their oats and flax one day a week. They were overworked and had no time to make friends, but despite all of that, they were happy. They smiled every day, and they were thankful for what they had. Their sheer tenacity was the kind of thing that could make even the Apple family look lazy.”

Hal swallowed. He didn’t dare speak.

“The mother and child were close to the epicenter of the blast. Emergency crews found a mare lying on the sidewalk, covering a foal with her body. When they tried to move her, both of the figured crumbled to ash, along with a cheap, poorly constructed baby carriage. A breeze scattered them to the wind after that, and there was nothing left to bury. They didn’t own a camera. That photo is the only one the husband ever had. A week after the explosion he stopped coming to work, and he hasn’t been seen since. At the service, he insisted that his wife and child were still smiling, somewhere.”

Hal didn’t even realize he was shaking until a tear wet his cheek. He sniffled hard and forced the emotion down, closing his eyes just long enough to take in a deep breath and straighten his back. He intended to repeat his previous question, but found there was no need.

“Despite how you, I, and Tissy feel, Halifax, we have to face a certain reality. Quantum swore before open court that the explosion that cost these lives was her fault. That her mother came to her with the idea and she went along with it. You don’t believe she did it. Neither do I. But we have no evidence to support that claim, while at the same time having a confession that says we’re wrong. Friendship is magic, Halifax, but you need to understand the leap of faith you’re asking ponies to take in forgiving Quantum for her perceived crimes.”

Twilight fluttered her wings, and Hal couldn’t help but notice the hardness in her stare. Her stance, her tone of voice…the other elemental keepers had begun to soften with age, but the Princess of Friendship was ever young and vigorous. The trouble, Hal thought, was that the weight of Twilight’s office seemed to be tempering that vigor into melancholy. Then again, he hadn’t often seen her like this, so to him it was something new. He dared to inquire.

“Your Highness…are you okay?”

Twilight’s commanding air slackened into a rueful smile. “Seems I can’t fool my students. You should trust in your perceptive abilities, Halifax. They’ll serve you well if you do.” She let out a deflating breath, and Hal thought she looked somehow smaller after the effort. “The truth is…no. I’m not okay. And it isn’t just as a result of the horrors we’ve witnessed these past few weeks. I’m sure you don’t know the story because it happened years before you were born, but Trixie Lulamoon had the alicorn amulet once before she came to this city.”

Hal nodded. “She used it to take over Ponyville almost thirty years ago. I didn’t know the story up until recently. Now I think almost everypony does. You, the other elemental keepers, and a zebra from the Everfree Forest tricked her into giving it up, and then it was hidden away.”

Twilight shook her head, “Apparently it wasn’t hidden away well enough. I don’t have time to go into all of this with you right now, but suffice to say even though my friends and I showed Trixie kindness, many of the other residents of Ponyville did not. What she did back then could be considered less heinous than the horrors I just described to you, but only in degree. Running Trixie out of Ponyville set off a chain reaction that reduced her from a hopeful, if not boastful, young wizard who might have been a benefit to society if she could work through her social problems, to a hateful, bitter nag who saw fit to bring about the destruction around you right now. We’re not even sure if she could be considered sane enough to even know what she was doing or if it was just the amulet influencing her mind again, but…”

Hal waited patiently for his sovereign to get her bearings.

“…that’s the life Quantum was born into. I don’t know all the factors that shaped her into the pony she is today. You’d have to ask her. But, if we…if I had only tried harder. Had only made them all find a way to forgive her…this may never have happened. And now you want everypony to forgive her daughter for what amounts to the same.”

Hal’s brow furrowed with confusion. Twilight turned away, and held up a hoof to stop him when he made to follow.

“I’m not trying to exonerate or condemn Quantum. But I believe there’s something inside her worth saving. Worth it to all ponykind to save. And I know you do too. I can’t stay here any longer or important ponies will start to wonder where I am. I have a lot of influence Halifax, and I can use that to keep a lid on what we’re trying to do here, but it won’t last forever. You’ve got to find a way to bring Quantum back. Before it’s too late. I’ll help you however I can, but I can’t make a show of it. I’m sure you understand. Think about what I told you. And never forget that friendship is magic.”

With that, the regal alicorn caught a chilled breeze with her wings and was gone.

* * * *

Hal twiddled his hooves in the Accelerator lab until he was quite sure it was dark enough that nopony would see him leaving. He’d been alone with his thoughts and the incessant clackety-clack of Tissy’s hooves over a keyboard for several hours, and in that time, he felt he was no closer to understanding anything the princess left him with.

“Tissy.”

He expected no response, and there was none. He rose to his hooves and gave the grey-eyed mare another appreciative glance. She really was exquisitely beautiful.

“Tissy. C’mon. Let’s go get dinner. I’m buying.”

Hal cocked his head and glanced at the matrix on Tissy’s screen. The equations looked familiar.

“Almost found Cutie? I guess it’ll be a busy night. I’ll order take out, but,” he chuckled, “somepony will have to go and pick it up.”

Tissy didn’t so much as twitch. Hal watched the technobabble on the screen reflect in her empty eyes until he finally reached out to put a hoof on her shoulder.

“Come outside with me. Just for a little while. You’ll feel bet—”

Abruptly, Hal felt a stinging slap against his cheek from Tissy’s hoof. The blow wasn’t painful, but it was jarring enough to give him pause as the normally catatonic mare curled into a ball and began shivering while staring off into space.

“….don’t wanna….” Tissy muttered miserably.

Hal sighed. Quantum had always had better luck bringing Tissy out of her shell, even though that often translated into the minty mare being the butt of the savant’s jokes. The very fact that Tissy would play a prank or smile at all was exceptional, and Hal usually left himself open on purpose; just hoping Tissy would put a pail of water over the door or slip a whoopee cushion under his rump as he sat down. But what little fire had ever shown in the rattled mare’s eyes was even colder since the whole business with the ‘Quantum Vault’ began. He tried three times before she finally allowed him to stroke her withers with a hoof.

“Alright,” he cooed, “alright. I’ll go get us something.”

Hal rose back to his hooves, favored the shuddering mare with a helpless glance, and turned to gather his bag and wander through the night in search of a fresh rutabaga. He was a bright young stallion…he knew that. He was capable of so many things, but alone, he could do nothing to get inside the head of one of his two best friends – to understand her past, her pain…and to somehow ease it.

Hal checked his pack.

Inside he found three extra pencils; a garish notepad inlaid with gems that were probably worth more than what an average pony earned in a year; no rutabagas; and the tiny teddy bear he’d been stuffing somewhere on his person, ever since his mother gave it to him and told him it had special powers to make him more confident on the primary school playground.

Smiling wanly, he took up the teddy bear in his teeth and sat it on Tissy’s desk, right next to her keyboard.

“His name’s Brutus,” Hal explained. “It’s a big, scary name, but that’s only so he has the power to protect you. He’s really very sweet, kind, and he’ll always listen to anything you have to say. If you keep him in your saddlebag, nopony will ever laugh at you.”

Tissy peeked out from the cave she’d created with her own body. Hal pushed the little bear closer to the edge of the table with his muzzle.

“Go on. Take him. I can personally vouch for his effectiveness.”

The wine-coated mare hesitated for a long time, her one eye sliding back and forth between the bear and the pegasus. She nabbed Brutus up and drew him into her personal bubble so fast Hal almost missed it. He placed his hoof on her withers again. Somehow, she felt a little warmer.

“Cutie.” Tissy said. Hal’s ears perked.

“What about her?”

“Cutie,” Tissy repeated. She smiled, and held the bear up in her teeth, looking like a filly with a new toy – which wasn’t far off the mark.

Hal chuckled. “Alright. I guess that’s his—her new name. Keep her close. I should tell you though, she likes going outside.”

Despite the single voice in the room, the two ponies kept the hum of the accelerator company with their conversation for hours.