Those Thirty Days

  Keen stepped out of her apartment's bathroom, her muscles relaxed from the hot bath she had just left. The case against the Fillydelphia Research Institute was rather open and close. the institution being found unanimously found guilty on all accounts. Keen, having been a part of one of the projects, had had five hundred bits allocated to her name as restitution from the institute, a sum that, though meager in comparison to the ones allocated to the ponies who had been through Illusions or Ghost Town, was much larger than she had expected. Apparently psychological harm was considered a large offense, and an expensive one at that, which made sense. A pony's psyche was one of a kind, and all damages were, at best, able to be reduced to long scars that no amount of time or medicine could ever fully take away. By what Keen had heard, the ponies who had suffered through Illusions were each given two thousand five hundred bits up front along with a mandatory five hundred bits per month for the rest of their lives, a sum that, though large, was a small bit of the massive funds the F.R.I. had acquired over the years through federal grants and aids to the public that gave back, not to mention the fact that five out of the eight ponies who formed the board of directors for the institute were multi-millionaires. Most of the workers of the institute were charged with aiding and abetting, though the court showed a good deal of leniency to those uninvolved with projects, and some small leniency with those who had worked in projects and had lead them to some pieces of damning evidence, though one pony who had tried had not been given leniency at Keen's behest. Keen smirked at the memory of the expression the lead researcher gave her when Keen accurately identified her as such, in addition to  the morning researcher for Solitaire who had, and she quoted, "No moral qualms with the project".

  A knock on her door drew Keen's attention. She expected another reporter coming by for information on either her experience with the Fillydelphia Research Institute's notorious projects, or her general involvement in the case. Even though she considered herself a nonessential part of a great machination that would have come to fruition in due time, near everypony else thought otherwise for some reason, even the ponies that had been captives to the projects. Finally opening the door, she met not with a reporter, but a mail pony.

  "Ah gost a letter fer a Miss Keen Eye. You's her?" The pony asked in a thick accent of no distinguishable origin to Keen Eye. Keen Eye smiled at the same mail pony who had delivered her the package at the beginning of all of this.

  "Yep, I still am." She replied, her smile unwavering. The mail pony  drew out the letter, giving it to Keen without a word before moving on in her rounds. Keen closed the door, bringing the letter inside with her. Looking at it, the noticeable lack of a return address stuck out to her. Sitting down at her couch, she quickly tore open the envelope, taking out the letter and looked over it.

  'Dear Miss Keen Eye,

  I wish to congratulate you on your recent connection to the demise of the Fillydelphia Research Institute, indeed a victory for ponykind in these times. I know you must be busy, so I'll attempt brevity. I am the pony who sent you the articles that set you on the path to finding out these dark secrets about the Fillydelphia Research Institute. As I informed you before, there is a spell woven into the thirtieth day's tape, a spell to inform me when you listen to it. When I received news about the victory in court, I was certain that maybe I had missed the spell, but I was told otherwise, which leads me to believe that you have yet to listen to it. Your victory over the Fillydelphia Research Institute, though ample victory for many, was not, nor is the reason I hired you for this most important case, though I am glad you did it. If any doubt is left, I am not displeased at this occurrence, but merely wish to inform you that the job has yet to be finished. Though it may seem but a formality at this point, I request you listen to the final tape as soon as your schedule allows. I understand that with publicity as this whole shibacle has generated that ponies must be clambering at your hooves now more than ever for assistance, but I can only hope you can make time to finish this final task for me.

                                                                                                                                                                 Best wishes,

                                                                                                                                                                 Your Client'

  Keen lowered the letter. She realized it was true, that she had yet to listen to the last of the tapes. Keen stood up and walked over to her bedroom, quickly finding her saddlebags right where she had deposited them before having gone deep undercover. The tapes and the tape player along with everything else she had had with her before she was captured by the F.R.I. for Project Cat and Mouse, a name she suspected was given because the Institute believed they were reversing their roles of the hunt. She had been one of the few to really try and get the truth about the F.R.I., and not only that, but had some resources to do so, along with what could either be courage and tenacity or sheer stupidity to disregard the warnings given to her.

  Taking out the player, she pressed the release button, taking out the twenty-ninth day's tape from the receiver and placing it in the case. Pulling out the lowest draw, reaching for the smaller tape, only to think twice, and take out the larger of the two. She had delayed long enough on this project, she would give it all the attention it deserved, the same amount of attention that all the other days really did deserve but hadn't received. Sliding the switch inside the player, the feeder and the receiver retreated into the base, only to be replaced by the ones farther apart. She'd find out what happened to this Mister Calculated Risk if it killed her, though at this point, snoops who wished her death were unlikely, though just to relive old memories, she looked out her window and pretended to see something, rushed over to check, only to be startled when she found that there was something there, namely a bird's nest with three small eggs. Keen chuckled, heading back to the player to finally listen to the final tape.

  "Morning researcher's notes, Day Thirty, or as I prefer to call it, Day Final, for Project Solitaire. It has been a grueling thirty days, but today is the last day. Due impart by the fact our team is draining resources of the Institute, the higher ups are feeling a mite generous, and mounting suspicion and scrutiny our Institute is falling under, we are not going to be releasing the pony at midnight, as originally planned, but at four in the afternoon. He will be most likely be spending the rest of the day here, becoming reacquainted with the fact that he isn't the only pony in the world, but that still concludes the experiment. We have less than seven hours until we pop that buster open, and the construction ponies are right there outside with their tools, as eager as we are to take out those screws and let whatever we have in effect created into the world. Nothing has changed in concern to his constant talking with the fictitious mare Brushstroke, though, it does appear that he is not having insane ramblings between to halves of himself, but more of civil conversations with another pony. It is a trait we hope to correct entirely, since talking to what is not there is frowned upon in most social circles. The shrinks we hired diagnose it as a, strangely put, stable and near harmless, for at least the moment, case of schizophrenia, though without direct review of the patients actions this diagnosis is likely to change upon examination of the pony. Well, I have officially completed my blathering quota for the day, so, this is end of the final day's morning researcher's notes. Switching to what little in room audio we have left to go over." The pony then pressed the end recording button as she stepped away from the mic. The room around her erupted in applause as the preemptive celebration began.

  "Well, we certainly deserve a raise or something." One of her colleagues proclaimed. "Remind me, if I ever have to sign up for a project again to have a clause put in that says the Institute IS responsible and WILL pay for any psychological harm that come to my person." He said with a pained chuckle, which carried all of the room's sentiments in it. The ponies were drained, not only physically, but emotionally and psychologically. The only rest in sight being that of the project's end.

  Risk looked around the room with all the swaths of color that ran across the walls. Brushstroke was displaying the variations she could think of, each magnificently beautiful in their own right. She had relinquished the right of choosing the final color pallet to him, though he had no idea why, with such a fine taste in fashion and design she had she could, without a doubt, pick just the right pallet for this room.

  "How about this one?" He asked, not really making a choice, but more of a suggestion to his lovely marefriend. He had made his proposal to her two days previous, and they had planned to be wed at tonight's, or what they considered night, dinner. The ceremony would be recited by Risk, or as close as he could from memory. It had been an almost inevitable outcome, though the question of their already existing relationship had come up. What were they in relation really? Risk had painted her, bringing her to life, but wouldn't that mean he was something like he was her father, or did the rules change because of what they were, or what they had come from? Risk was nowhere old enough to be a father of a mare of her perceived age, but then again, they couldn't tell what her age was exactly, though they had settled on twenty-four as a place holder age in absence of another method of determining it.

  "Hmm, it does look nice, but it clashes with your coat. We need something that brings out not just the room, but exalts the appearances of the only two ponies who live in here." Brushstroke replied. "Possibly a more muted color scheme? We both have some more vibrant coat colors, so maybe a color scheme to contrast that." Honestly, Risk couldn't care less, not because of boredom over the meanial task, but because he was far too consumed in the mare he loved. Her projected colors suddenly shifted to include fewer brighter pallets, and far more darker, more desaturated colors.

  "This one?" Risk ventured, pointing at one that included several browns and grays, but as he watched, Brushstroke simply shook her head in disapproval.

  "No, that one is too drab." She complained. "If I could, I'd get a third opinion, but that option seems a bit out of the question." Risk nodded in response before walking over to one that contained more muted and darker reds with some browns.

  "How about this one? It looks nice." He asked again, gaining a look of joy from his love as she moved up to look at it fully, only to expand it along the wall to see it more fully.

  "Yes, prefect. It's warm and just the right level of dullness to not only contrast with our colors, but also compliment them." She said with a nod and a smile. "Yes, they are perfect. Thank you, honey!" She said, wrapping Risk in a hug, which he turned into a kiss.

  Keen pressed the pause button on the recording as another knock sounded on the door, gaining her attention that had been wrapped in the recording. Standing up, she only began to realize how cramped it has been on the sofa were she had been for the passed... looking at the clock, she discovered it had been three hours already. A strange surprise indeed. Moving to the door, she looked through the peep hole to see Lodestone on the other side with saddlebags on his back. Quickly opening the door, she met the stallion with a smile.

  "Lode, how nice of you to drop by!" She exclaimed, though kept her distance, not wishing to get close to anypony in any way that could be looked upon as romantic for a good long while, not after being Caramel for those few days that she had been. Lodestone simply chuckled.

  "Yeah, it's nice to see you too, Keen. I'm especially glad I don't have to bit my tongue every time I say your name now." He ribbed with yet another chuckle. "How have things been around the office of the private investigator who singlehoofedly took down the most vile and corrupt corporations of Equestria in our time?"

  "Now I would go THAT far with it. I was neither alone, nor did I enact the punishments and after effects that caused its permanent downfall." Keen replied, chuckling along with the stallion.

  "You read the Fillydelphia Inquirer?" He asked seemingly randomly. Keen shook her head, reading only the Fillydelphia Free Press ever since the Inquirer started chasing after gossip stories and left the real news to pages thirty-seven and beyond, not to mention they ditched many of the old classics of the Saturday paper in favor of newer, and cruder, cartoon strips. "Well, let's just say they did take it that far." He said simply, with Keen's face to hoof motion giving him all the response he needed.

  "Seriously, it isn't like the truth off the matter isn't interesting. 'Police successfully raid Fillydelphia Research Institute. Shocking reveal behind the most popular scientific research facility.' A title like that might make ME by one just to see what they got." Keen said with a furstrated groan as she returned her hoof to the floor.

  "You forgot the part about the administrator's scandalous affairs with some random employee that would be covered more expensively in the next issue." Lodestone joked. "I've really come to expect no less from those ponies, which is a sad fact to think about really." He said, his chuckle slowly dying away.

  "So, what brings you to my door this fine day, Lodestone. And in case you are wondering, no, I am not having trouble with my geography." Keen said smirking. "I actually got some good grades in that back in middle school." Lodestone laughed in response.

  "As funny as that might be, Keen, I'm here to say my farewells to you." He replied finally, having caught his breath from the excessive laughing moments prior. "I'm leaving town since my witness reports are no longer needed and since I have no real other reason to stick around any longer." He stated firmly. "I'll miss you, Keen. You were a great pony to be around, probably the best influence I've had since I left home about six months back."

  "Well, thank you, I guess." Keen replied. "You were... an interesting case to say in the least. Oh and, before you go, I got something for you." She said before ducking back into her apartment.

  "You would know a lot about interesting cases, wouldn't you?" Lodestone said jokingly as the mare slipped deeper into her abode. The mare eventually returned with a bag of coins clenched between her teeth. Lodestone lifted an eyebrow at it as Keen Eye set it down."

  "It's for all you've done for me, including the extra you did to gain me a private car." Keen explained. "It should be enough to either treat you the or get some nice meals on the normal train." She said with a small smile.

  "Keen, I... I can't take this, I didn't give those things expecting anything in return, and this is far too generous." Lodestone said while shaking his head. Keen lifted a hoof to her chest, as if wounded by his words.

  "To refuse the gift is to refuse the giver, Lodestone. Are you refusing me as a friend?" She asked in a pained voice. Lodestone blinked a few times at her before snorting in frustration.

  "It's no fair when you use my own customs to counter my generosity in not excepting exuberant gifts." He complained as he picked up the pouch and tossed it into his bags. "Though I guess the fact you are so quick to adopt another's customs and philosophy." He said with a smile.

  "I guess you could say I'm keen on changes." She joked. Lodestone shook his head as he chuckled lightly with closed eyes.

  "Well," he said with a sigh as he refocused on Keen, "This is goodbye." He said, extending a hoof to the earth pony mare. "May we meet again, Keen. I wish you all the best in your future ventures." Keen met his hoof with her own, shaking it slowly.

  "Thank you, and the same to you, Lodestone. Don't be a stranger, come by to visit from time to time. I'll try and slip you in somewhere." She said snickering, quickly ending it with a clearing of her throat. "But really, do come to visit. I'd love to have you." Lodestone nodded.

  "I'll try, but there's no telling where life will take me next. I can only hope it's nowhere near a desert for at least a little while." Keen laughed at that. "Goodbye, Keen." He finished, lowering his hoof back down.

  "Goodbye, Lodestone." Keen replied before the stallion moved on down the hall towards the stairs. Keen shook her head with a smile as she shut the door. Keen moved back to her couch, lying down before pressing the play button on the machine.

  "I do think they could've added a bit more salt to the potatoes,though." Brushstroke noted as she whipped her muzzle off. "It was good, but salt would've brought it out a bit more." Risk nodded in agreement.

  "Maybe some butter would've done the trick." He suggested. Brushstroke nodded slowly as she watched the plate vanish. "I think their standards are getting a bit more lax now that we've been in here for a while. Hopefully it doesn't drop of completely, I'd rather not eat sludge." Brushstroke again nodded in agreement. A smile slowly broke out across her muzzle as she looked over to Risk.

  "Only a few more hours." She said happily. "It's hard to believe the day came so quickly." Risk chuckled lightly. "I only wish we could have a few more guests. Weddings are nice, but it almost seems we are eloping." she said, joining in on the laugh.

  "Well, we can't exactly say we are, and we can't say we aren't. We can neither run away from or to my family, and... well, then there's your situation." Risk then froze. "Wait, if I'm your father, does that mean I have to ask myself for permission to marry you? Did I skip a step by not asking? Do I have to get on my good side to make sure I accept my hope to marry the mare that in all technicalities is my daughter in some way?" Risk looked over to Brushstroke with a concerned expression. "And if I'm my own father-in-law, then who is the mother-in-law? Would I also be the mother-in-law? Do I have to make jokes about myself now?" Brushstroke deadpanned at the stallion, who quickly began laughing again. Brushstroke shook her head slowly.

  The mare walked up to the recording area, looking over the set up for the last time. She had used the recording system so much that it had become an exhausting venture, not so much because it was difficult, but more so because it was tedious, like the class in school that took time to do but you'd always get an A in no matter what. Using her magic, she replaced the tape with a fresh one, waiting for the light to come on to start speaking into the microphone.

   "The time has finally come, we are preparing to open up the box and let the stallion out. At the moment he seems exceedingly calm and collected, though that is only what we can tell from the audio we are getting." Looking over to the box as the engineer ponies began to rev up their drills. "Everypony is in their place and ready to receive him. We can only hope that there will be no hostile reaction from the subject, though after what he's been through, it wouldn't surprise me in the least. There isn't much left to go over, and so I can call Project Solitaire a roaring success with all the data we were able to collect from this experiment. A big round of applause to everypony who stuck it out too the very end. This is the end of the final researcher notes for Project Solitaire." With that she pressed the button to finish the recording. Looking back to the construction ponies, she signaled them to open the chamber up. The ponies nodded and got to work quickly. The gigantic bolts on the sides of the wall of the box began to turn slowly, moving farther and farther out as the ponies applied more and more power.

  "I'm glad that this mess is finally over." The stallion beside the usual morning research said. "I don't think many of the ponies here could've handled putting that stallion through much more." Vile nodded slowly, looking over the progress on the ponies removing the screws, now halfway done with the first set.

  "We can only hope he isn't too traumatized because of this. I already have done too much damage, I don't want to add permanent mental damage to the list." Another pony stated as she approached. "You think he'll drop the duality thing once he sees more ponies, or do you think he'll take a bit to get over it?"

  "I honestly don't know, it could be dropped as easily as a hat, or may prove to be a pseudoaddiction. What ever the case may be, we can only hope for the best." Vile replied. "If this pony can function as a normal pony I'd be happy, but even that's a bit in question. He might never fully recover, or he might surprise us all and get right back into society without a problem." The first screws dropped to the floor, the construction ponies moving to the next set quickly.

  "Should we take pictures?" A stallion asked. "If this proves to be of any real value in the future they might want a visual representation of the events that happened." The ponies looked at each other, shrugging.

  "Sure, why not? Though if he looks distressed, cease photography immediately, we don't want him to be too scared to leave." Vile replied finally. "We've had him in there for thirty days already, I don't want to have to deal with thirty more." The stallion nodded, running off quickly, coming back before twenty seconds had past with a rather high end camera. Finally the final screws came off, the illumination spell on the inside of the chamber disengaging as it did. The sound of hoof steps coming out caused the pony with the camera to lift his device, ready to snap a picture. Slowly, the earth pony stallion stepped out, met with the rapid clicking of the shutters of the pony's camera. He stepped out further, completely leaving the chamber as he looked around at the room he was now in. Looking back he motioned with his head to the air to follow, but as they watched, something was... off. The sound of hooves against the plush lining met their ears, followed by a red mare stepping out from the chamber after Calculated Risk, looking with wide, curios eyes at everything around her. The pony with the camera snapped several more pictures before Vile knocked the camera from his hooves while several of her colleagues charged forward to look over the two.