Percussive Arguement (Just the End. Need to Write the Beginning and Middle)
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Percussive Arguement (Just the End. Need to Write the Beginning and Middle)
My ears prick up like two angry butterflies, and before the hoof strikes the door a second time, I already know what the visit will be about.
Winter Wrap Up.
Yes, Winter Wrap Up, Winter Wrap Up. Let's finish our holiday cheer. I could use some holiday cheer myself this morning. I know libraries are public spaces, yet, how am I to get any actual research done if I'm just reanswering retrodden questions over and over? I hate my day job when ponies actually make me do it.
By all accounts, the song shouldn't be causing this much fuss. It was a good run, no doubt, and a bit longer and more complex than we're used to here in Ponyville. But still, we get a good five new "real world" tunes every week flooding the record market. Fillydelphia had the studio version of that great funk jam come out just two days ago. Some hot new singer--Soporific Shores I think? That should be getting the heat, not this wishy washy pop! What is so great about this one?
The knocking continues, and I shuffle away my mental protestations at its popularity to be picked up again some other less intruded upon time.
"Yes, yes, come in," I call reluctantly. The knocking ceases, the guilty party enters, and it's... Lyra. Great.
Don't get me wrong, I like Lyra. She may be crazy, but as I'm known to say, all the ponies in this town are. She's a solid musician, and I respect that.
What I don't respect is what she's doing in my tree house.... er, public library. She of all ponies should know I'm no musical expert. I mean, I'm rather fond of my impromptu performance a few weekends ago, but the machinations of spontaneous musical combustion are largely beyond my ken.
I spin around on my stool to face the intruder. I'm working downstairs today. Steady stream of customers and all. I throw my eyes over to the cookies and punch set out on the folding table. Mostly gone. I'll have to get Spike on that. As long as ponies are going to invade my study space, I might as well keep them hydrated and fed.
Lyra's suddenly standing in front of me. I jump in surprise a little. Did I zone out again? "Woah, sorry, Twilight!" she apologizes, not really meaning it. If you're smiling while you apologize, you can't really mean it.
I place a calming hoof on my chest. "No, no, it's okay. I've just been swamped by ignorant plebs who think the library is a record store."
"Geez, Ms. Sparkle. Spreading the snark on thick today! What's gotten into you?"
See, I like Lyra, but she can be so annoyingly happy and smug when she talks. I can't decide if I'm jealous or disgusted.
"Well. Ms. Heartstrings, I'm kind of running on coffee and no sleep, because all the research and studying and sleeping I normally do during the day have been moved to nighttime because since the new record came out last week, all my daytime has been spent answering stupid questions from stupid ponies.
Lyra raises her eyebrows a bit. Good, right now I want to inspire fear and unease. It makes ponies go away faster. Instead of muttering something about coming back at a better time then making for the exit though, the mare just digs in. "Well, wait a minute. If you normally do take naps during the day, and you moved all your daytime activities to night time, then wouldn't you at least nap at night? Yet you stated you've gotten no sleep. Twilight 'Logicial' Sparkle, there's a serious flaw in your logic!"
"Again, Lyra 'I like my lyre strung about my neck' Heartstrings", I reply, gritting my teeth. "I got no sleep last night. I may not be in tip top mental form. Please don't test me."
Ahh, guilting ponies always does the trick. Her ears fold back. "Um, right. Uh, I'm sorry about that.
(random lines that will go somewhere eventually)
Oh, no no no. I was a voice extra for the chorus.
Are you daft?
Pinkie Pie does her own voice work in the studio."
"That's because Pinkie Pie is clinically insane."
For some reason this surprises Lyra. "Wait, is that hyperbole?"
"Nope," I reply. We had her tested by Luna.
"Huh..." Lyra ponders this newfound information for a moment. "So, uh, why hasn't she been institutionalized?"
I glare at the suggestion. "Because she's a damn good baker and an even better friend."
"Oh." Lyra limply mutters, not really bothering to hide her disappointment. You have to understand, Lyra's wife is an indirect competitor of sorts with Sugar Cube Corner, so they don't always have the best relationship.
"I hear... bongos."
Exactly! Do you remember bongos being there?"
"Not really. I was a bit busy trying to sing about being incompetent at the time."
"Twilight, we're talking about the chorus, not your solo verse. It's three words!"
Fine, fine. No, Lyra, I do not remember bongos in the third chorus.
And this is when I realize with horror that she has actual bonafide evidence. Ponies might start actually believing her for a change. Her conspiracies could go mainstream. My ears pin back and I inadvertently nicker. This horror is superseded by sadness, because I know I'm about to hate myself.
Lyra picks up on my contorting facial expressions. "Twilight, what's wrong?" she asks, innocently. What's wrong? So much Lyra. So very, very much. I wish I could tell you.
"Twilight?"
I quickly regain my composure. "Huh? Oh, nothing!" (Note to self: work on making fake enthusiasm more convincing.) "I was just... uh, I just remembered a bad dream I had last night." Lyra puts on a commiserating face. Placated for the moment, I turn my attention to my assistant, who's just come out of the kitchen with a fresh plate of cookies. "Spike, thanks so much for the awesome baking. After you set those down, could you please go upstairs for a few minutes? I have some more... private matters to discuss with Lyra."
"Uh, okay. Sure thing Twi!" he replies as he slides the hazelnut cinnamon pastries onto the platter. He seems confused, but compliant. I can live with that. "You know where to find me!" he throws out.
"In my bed, cuddled up with a comic book. I know you."
He grins and blushes, and hops up the stairs.
Once his thumping has receded, I magically deadbolt the front door and throw a soundproofing spell over the ground floor of the library. Lyra's eyes light up. "So I'm right? You actually believe me?! Humans really do exist?"
I steel my face. "Well, yes and no," I reply as evenly as I can. "Lyra, over at that shelf," (I indicate with a hoof), "third row from the bottom, by Frankincense Pisces, you should find Mythical Creatures and Where to Find Them. Could you bring it to me please?"
She gleefully trots over to the shelf in question, her tail turned to me. Frank isn't a real author, though. I sigh, and begin charging up the spell.
"Twilight," she calls over her shoulder, "you sure it's here? I can't--"
PSCCHH!
1.5 Thaums of magic spark off my horn and beam into Lyra. She briefly shrieks as the miasma works its way through her body. She staggers for a step or two, then crashes down onto the hardwood.
She lands on her stomach, her legs splayed awkwardly around her, chin flat against the oaken floor. Success.
I trot over from the opposite side of the room and her eyes follow me, wide and scared. Her mouth twitches, but only the faintest of gasps can pierce the paralysis. I place a comforting hoof on her withers, stroking her gently. "Shhhh, shhh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." He eyes plead desperately for more explanation, but I produce none. Rather, I let my leg slide off her and trot briskly to the basement. Stun spells are easy and rather harmless. But knocking a pony out with magic is much more complex and dangerous. I'm a chemist; I have other methods.
Half a minute later, I reappear on the ground level. She's still there on the floor, facing a bookshelf, spasming a little. Tiny sparks leap from her horn, a desperate attempt to summon some sort of counter spell, no doubt. I canter over to her stagnant body before the effects wear off any more.
She still can't speak, though her jaw quivers. But her eyes, how they silently plead with me, begging me for an answer to the unsung question: "Why?"
I look at her, my own complexion betraying my reluctance to do this. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I tell her, levitating the chloroform-soaked rag towards her face (I'd use ether, but I'd rather her magic sparks not set the tree on fire). Her eyes bolden and shake rapidly, and a desperate rasping escapes her throat. Mechanically, I cover her muzzle; she tries to hold her breath at first, but eventually she must breath in the noxious fumes. "I really hate to do this, Lyra," I say as her lids grow heavy, "but you know too much." She briefly struggles, but it's a battle she can't win. A few seconds later, her entire body visibly relaxes, no longer fighting the stun spell or the anesthetic. I hold the cloth there another moment, just to be sure. Then I cut my magic and slump down on my haunches next to the unconscious unicorn. I scrunch my face up and release a large sigh of stale air. The ordeal is over.
I sit there, breathing somewhat heavily, waiting for my heart rate to fall. I mentally go over my plan of action. It's time to put the next step into place. I get up and move to my writing desk.
This is no time for dictating to my assistant--Spike may be twelve, but he's still a baby by dragon standards, and I'd like to preserve his innocence and ignorance on this particularly sensitive topic. Instead, I lift a quill in my telekinesis and set ink to paper, rapidly but methodically. Urgency is no cause for sloppy hornwriting.
Dear Princess Celestia,
Please visit me at the Golden Oaks Library posthaste. I have Lyra temporarily incapacitated. She has connected the dots regarding "The Outsiders". Figured it out from the hand claps in "Winter Wrap Up". Somepony needs to tell our contact to pass on to the powers that be that they must be more careful with orchestrating the shared auditory hallucinations. Lyra isn't the only astute one, but for now I think she's the only pony who noticed. Definitely going to need a record recall though. Figure out an excuse for it. Your better at these things than I. Anyway, I'll secure Lyra in my basement. I think we have use yet for her. Once you get here, reprogramming can begin. I recommend in the future we send an unseelie to monitor her. If worst comes to worst, maybe implant a localized amnesia charm. But that's just speculation. First things first, get your royal flank down here. Ethereal speed, Princess.
Your faithful observer, Twilight Sparkle
