Another day dawned on Ponyville, another batch of sunlight filtering between the slits of Twilight Sparkle’s curtains to assault her closed eyes with its unending volley of rays, but she merely rolled away with a low groan and a flick of magic to bury herself under the bedsheets. But the sun refused to yield in its eons old task, and she knew the welcome warmth of her covers would resemble a most unpleasant oven before long.
Crossing her hind legs, Twilight tried to suppress one other fact of nature that called for rousing herself from her cozy hidey hole—just one more futile attempt to delay the inevitable, she knew. Days on end, for weeks and months and years, she had woken with the sun, and while she willed her mind to shut down and sleep the hours away, her body obeyed the internal alarm clock drilled into her by the daily routine. Even with nothing to look forward to.
For as long as she could remember, she had never seen a day plan fall apart so spectacularly as today’s: breakfast with Rarity cancelled because of a rescheduled session of creative spontaneity, soil samples from a new possible batch of fertile Appleloosan farmland lost in the mail to wipe out her mid-morning research, Rainbow Dash napping through a rain shower yesterday necessitating an afternoon downpour to keep her from trotting to Zecora’s, every single little detail and nuance of timing wiped out by one thing or another.
Gone, vanished into nothingness with so little regard for the pride and satisfaction in a schedule well-reasoned.
Heaving the covers away with a heavy sigh, Twilight pried herself out of bed. Insistent call of nature first, then she could figure out a way to while away the time. Just her luck Mayor Mare wasn’t able to discuss the zoning concerns for an extended wing of her library until tomorrow morning.
Kinks like that might have been worked around, but as Twilight made her way to the bathroom, she conceded to herself that it was probably best to deal with her boredom now. Leaving all of tomorrow’s schedule to tomorrow kept things as nice and tidy as they could be.
Maybe tidy, but certainly not engaging. Napping through the day still seemed like an attractive option, but Twilight doubted she could cooperate with herself—she had none of Zecora’s tea to help her relax, and casting a sleep spell on herself was something even Star Swirl himself cited as a careless mistake in several of his tomes.
Onward to the day then, finishing in the bathroom and settling down by her mirror, onward to twenty-four hours—twenty-two, she realized after a quick glance at the clock, to some small measure of relief—until the Mayor would be ready for her.
Picking up a brush and running it through her mane, Twilight Sparkle could only ponder the shelves of books she had set aside unread, yet with an appointed time to each and every one that would only leave a cavity of their own to fill if taken out of turn. Quietly they sat—both downstairs, where they would be resting in a beam of sunlight reflecting off of their dust covers so she could not help having her wandering eyes drawn to them, and at the edge of her mind, resisting all her efforts to shove any and all thoughts of how inviting their covers would look or what knowledge she could gleam from the contents, even just a quick peek at an index to see what references she could expect.
Remaining inside was simply not an option if she wished to remain unspoiled, and she hadn’t even considered the microbial cultures currently incubating down in the basement—with complete cellular divisions occurring every fifteen seconds!—but weren’t ready for further testing quite yet, so resisting the temptation to observe was paramount to achieve the optimum results.
So with the only option left to her to leave and not return until she was certain she could distract herself with dinner and maybe a little leisurely star-gazing in the evening, Twilight plodded her way down the stairs both crediting and discounting all the ideas that sprang to mind: breakfast at Sugarcube Corner would certainly fill her day with a strong dose of Pinkie Pie, but distracting her from her own duties just wouldn’t be friendly; Applejack was traveling with Granny Smith, which left Big Mac on his own to do the chores, but Twilight wasn’t sure he would welcome her help; the Everfree Forest always offered something to watch and study, though Zecora would already have left to gather herbs and ingredients by now.
Twilight stepped outside and drew in a long breath through her nose, and savoring the fresh air and even fresher scents from the marketplace than she was used to smelling seemed to stir something inside her. Usual tasks and chores and company might not be open to her, but Twilight’s imagination sparked with the smell in the air—flowers and produce moving from field to stall and changing hooves, each step of the process needing a pony behind it to move everything along.
Very much like Canterlot, Ponyville was so much more than her circle of familiarity, the friends and books she called home, and Twilight nearly felt ashamed of herself for trying to resist the day when she had such an opportunity before her.
What was that book Cheerilee borrowed from her yesterday? Xerography?
Yes, that was it, and Twilight wondered if Cheerilee might need some help in teaching such a science to all the little school ponies, and now that she thought of it, she had never even seen the Ponyville schoolhouse’s lab before, or even if they had one.
Zero to do, yet as Twilight went on her way with the sun on her back and a spring in her step, she couldn’t begin to guess how much more she had to see and learn and discover, and she had such little time to waste.
