My Little Proletariat

Equestria. The Magical Kingdom. Both a political entity and a span of land encompassing forest, hills, flat plains and desert, ruled over by the Princess Celestia, Regent of the Sun and Moon, who ensures that the cycle of day and night continues its thousand-year cycle - within the borders of her nation, anyway.

This is, after all, a magical kingdom.

It is here that the Unicorns and their brethren call home.

Snapshot.

The city of Canterlot and environs. It is from here that Celestia rules her land. The city itself barely clings to the edge of a great granite cliff-face, thrust out of the land, in some ways a relic from when the world was younger and the various sentient races vied for control on the battlefield rather than in the court room. It is not unheard of for vast mansions to extend from the mass of the city, projecting into thin air, held up by precisely-calculated magic, engineering, or a combination of both.

Beneath the city of Canterlot, forested hills stretch for miles in either direction. Lone huts and small villages dot the landscape. To the east, the ground cover grows ever denser until, at some undefined point, it becomes the western fringe of the Everfree Forest. Technically under the rule of Equestria, the Forest remains in reality a wilderness. Not even Celestia's rule extends beyond its borders: it is said by some that you truly know you are beyond her reach when the clouds start moving by themselves.

Snapshot.

Grazing the edge of a particularly eager peninsula of forest, a small semi-agrarian community sits, within eyesight of the royal city on a clear day. The first founders of this village looked around and, with an egocentricity that plagues even the lowest of the sentient races, thought, here is where ponies shall live. And thus they named it Ponyville.

Fields and orchards surround Ponyville, clustering around outlying farms and hemming the village in on two sides. To the north lies the road to Canterlot, and to the east, the edges of the Everfree Forest encroach on the land. The outskirts, at least, are navigable, and many a filly and colt have camped in its shadow as a coming-of-age rite.

Snapshot.

The village square. The sun has set, and a party has begun. To one side of Ponyville Town Hall, a bonfire sits. Ponies dance and gather around it, casting long, flickering shadows back into the first rows of houses. Tables set up around the edges of the light hold the remains of dinner, snacks and drinks.

To the northeast, outside the halo of the bonfire, a small light navigates its way up to the top of a gentle rise. The hillock is still part of the green, and offers a decent view down onto the festivities. A tree crouches on top of the hill, guarding it fiercely.

Snapshot.

The light is attached to a pony. A purple unicorn, horn aglow, has dumped her saddlebags under the tree and is sorting through them (the bags, not the tree). Her name is Twilight Sparkle, and she is new in town. She is muttering to herself under her breath, a habit she despises. She is looking for a clean sheet of paper.

Snapshot.

A thought. Due to the fact that it's fully contained in Twilight Sparkle's brain, we could say it's her thought. It keeps bouncing around, grabbing her attention. She keeps shoving it to the back of her mind, but within a few minutes it's back again, setting up shop and clamouring for her attention.

The thought is this:

I have friends now.

After an age, she found some paper.

It was a simple matter to turn her least favourite book into a portable desk, although preparing a quill took a bit more time. The ink was in its own special anti-spill carry case that she'd had commissioned in Canterlot. Still, she thought as she unpacked all this, it seemed like a lot of bother just to write something down.

Looking out over the party, she spotted a couple of ponies she'd been introduced to. They seemed to be having a good enough time without her, which gave her a chance to write her first letter.

Let's see...ah.

Dear Princess Celestia,

The quill hovered in mid-air, her horn glowing. Twilight frowned. Writing letters was harder than it looked. What should she say? Dear Princess Celestia, today I saved the world from your evil sister? Dear Princess Celestia, today I made some friends and they're all crazy?

Twilight Sparkle was not adept at people. It was one of the reasons she'd gone into studying magic. Magic (well, she thought, some magic) was repeatable and objective. It didn't vary depending on the time of day, or the weather. It could be written down, and later, referenced. And most importantly, it didn't throw parties for you.

Her parents hadn't been much into parties. Accountants, as a rule, didn't go in for shouting, drinking and dancing. Occasionally they'd have some friends over and they'd drink expensive drinks from fancy glasses and discuss the state of the global gemstone market, but even then Twilight was just as likely to retreat to her room and read.

Now she found herself on a mission to make friends. A mission. Which meant she could fail. And she had to write reports to Celestia.

Making friends, it turned out, was harder work than expected.

"Hey, what's that?"

Twilight whirled around. She hadn't heard anypony creeping up on her.

"Whoa, nervous much? Up here."

She looked up. A pegasus was hovering above her, wings essaying a complex figure-eight pattern in the air. She had a sky-blue coat, and a mane the colour of rainbow. Ah, which made her-

"Hello...Rainbow Dash?"

The pegasus grinned. Dear Princess Celestia, today I learned how to remember names using mnemonics and visual cues...

"So, what is that?"

"What's – oh." Twilight looked down at the sheet of paper she was supposed to be writing her letter on. Her mind had been wandering, and as a result her quill had started doodling on the letter. She was pleased to see her mind hadn't wandered enough to leave out the annotations.

Rainbow Dash alighted on the ground next to her and peered at the paper. "Is this some sort of torture device? What're the stretchy bits for?"

Twilight smoothed the edges of the paper out with her hooves, taking the opportunity to see exactly which thing she'd drawn this time. Ah, yes. "It's a reader," she said.

"A reader?"

"Well, how would you read a book normally?"

The pegasus snorted. "Why'd I want to read a book?"

"Well, let's say you did."

"I guess I'd get one of the unicorns to read it to me."

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?"

"There's no way for you to read a book. You can't physically turn the pages. Not without creasing them irreparably anyway."

"Irrep-...yeah yeah, not all of us have fancy magic like you, no need to rub it in."

"But look." Twilight took the quill up again and started to outline portions of the diagram. "You mount the book in here - you can even do it by mouth - and the articulating arms here and here grab the pages, and then you can use these two paddles here to cause the whole thing to operate, turning the pages."

"So....it's a hoof-operated page turner?"

"At its most basic level, yes."

"Huh." Rainbow stared at the page for a bit. "Aha! But," she said triumphantly, "I can't read."

"They didn't teach you to read?"

"Well, I can read hoofscript, but I never learned Equestrian. But look!" She dug her hoof into the ground, and tracked a line in the mud. Her eyes narrowed in concentration until she'd completed a crude "RD" in the dirt. "Those," said proudly, "are my initials. One stands for Rainbow, and…the other one…stands for Dash."

But Twilight wasn't paying attention. She was biting the edge of her hoof, staring at the paper. "Of course," she muttered to herself, "why should anyone in the villages read Equestrian?" She dipped the quill in her ink supply and started making frantic annotations around the outside of the diagram.

"So is this what they teach you at Pony Academy in Canterlot?" Rainbow Dash asked.

"Well," Twilight replied, mind still half on her annotations, "Equestrian is a prerequisite for magic. Everything about magic is written in Equestrian. Hoofscript just doesn't have the complexity required for most rituals - did you know that there's only three tenses in even the most advanced hoofscript, and even then, one of them is only used by certain mountain tribes on the northeastern edge of Equestria? And don't get me started on declension - oh, bother." The unicorn hastily scrubbed at where her writing had overrun the page onto the title of the book below it.

"...yeah," said Rainbow Dash. "So, uh, how about that Celestia, huh? What's it like studying under her?"

"Uh, well, she knows an awful lot about magic," said Twilight, still hoofing at the ink smudge. "A lot more than me, at any rate. She's a very good teacher, and she understands what it's like to need to be challenged."

"Yeah? Hey, what're you writing on the cover of that book? I mean, I'm no expert, but usually the writing goes in the-"

"Nothing, nothing! It was a reprint anyway, no one will notice." Twilight pulled the book up to eye height, examining the mark. In this light it was impossible to see how bad it was. She sighed. There was nothing for it but to hope for the best. She slotted the books back in her bag, turning back to the strange pony. No, she thought, that's not how we do it. She turned back to her new friend Rainbow Dash. "Celestia is one of the wisest ponies I know, and it's a great honour that even with all the time she spends running the kingdom, she still finds time to teach me."

"Really?" Rainbow Dash glanced down the hill. "Does she ever talk to you about the kingdom? I mean, I know I talk about my job all the time."

"Not really...I- you have a job?"

"Hey, no need to take that tone." Dash lifted a hoof to her chest. "I'm a member of the weather team! I perform an important civic duty!"

"Of course."

"Sorry, you were saying? About Celesita?"

"Oh, right." Twilight paused to think.  "No, she doesn't ever really talk about it. I mean, I don't think I ever professed an interest in her job, and she's never really volunteered much." Twilight shrugged. "I guess there's been the odd time where she couldn't make her regular lesson times because of some affair of state or other, but to me it was mainly free study time."

"Really? Not even..." The pegasus trailed off, looking down the hill. "Oh, hey!" She jumped, effortlessly hovering a foot from the ground. "Looks like a thing. I should probably see to that. Look, it was great talking to you, we should catch up some time!"

"I-uh, sure," said Twilight. "I-"

"Cool!" said the pegasus, already rising into the air. "Catch you later!" And then she disappeared into the darkness.

Twilight's eyes followed the rapidly-departing shape of Rainbow Dash. Her mind, still mid-conversation, ran for a few seconds, wondering where the pegasus was off to in such a hurry. Soon, however, she returned to the book. She was pretty sure she'd seen a copy at the library, in one of the back catalogues. Maybe she could swap them - after all, it looked like no one used the place, so no one would notice one tiny ink smudge. It can't have been that bad, right?

Horn glowing faintly, she pulled the book out of her saddlebag, just enough to see the ink stain on the cover.

"Twilight!"

Twilight slammed the book back in the saddlebag and latched it, spinning around. What was it about this hill?

"I saw you from down in the village green." It was the white unicorn with the gemstones. Precious. No. Demand. No. Something. She was still talking. "Was that Rainbow Dash I saw leaving just before?"

"Oh, yes." Twilight was just glad she hadn't seen the book. The last thing she needed was everyone knowing she was ruining the library's back-catalogue. That wouldn't make a good start. "Said she had something to take care of."

"Or someone," the unicorn said. Dropping her voice, she added, "She didn't, uh, she didn't try anything with you, did she?"

"Try anyth-oh! No, no, she was just asking about some...I didn't even know she, well, she uh-" Twilight waved her hoof in the air feebly. "Was that way inclined."

"Oh," the unicorn said, "once she gets a few drinks in her, she's any way inclined."

"I, uh, I guess that's good to know." Twilight's brain parsed that, and she blushed. "Not that - I mean I wouldn't - I mean I don't even - I mean I couldn't - " she gave up and looked at the other unicorn pleadingly.

"Oh, darling," she said, chuckling, "I know you have much better taste than that. It comes with the horn, don't you know. To be honest, I feel the same way often, around here."

"The same way?"

"Overwhelmed." She waved a hoof, managing to encompass the village, the partying, and presumably Rainbow Dash's nocturnal activities as well. "It's all very nice, but sometimes their celebrations can get a bit tiring, don't you agree? But of course, it's why you're up here, above them all."

"Them?"

She gestured to the celebrations on the green. "The, ah, earth ponies, as we call them these days."

"Oh, right."

"Tell me, what's it like living in Canterlot?" A note of whimsy entered her voice. "Is it everything they say it is? Are there really more dress shops than there are houses in Ponyville? Are the streets really paved with gold?"

"Well, last time I checked they were paved with stones, like normal streets," Twilight answered. Besides, she thought, if you paved them with gold they'd just deform. And somepony would probably end up stealing the road.

The unicorn let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, I long to live there," she said. "My parents, you understand, they brought me up here, but this was as close as they ever got to the Royal City. 'Rarity', my mother said to me when I was but a filly, 'Rarity, we've done as much as we can, the rest is up to you.' And so I've tried, oh, how I've tried to ply my business, get my name mentioned, just to get one chance to sell my wares there..."

Rarity, Twilight thought, letting the words wash over her. That's her name. Rare, like gemstones, and silence, apparently. In her mind, she started to put together a matrix of reminders for the ponies she'd met so far, and then realised that pulling out a scroll in the middle of a conversation would look suspect, so next she worked out how to keep it hidden, and an unobtrusive method of reference during conversations.

Silence. Oh, right, Rarity had been talking at her. She was now looking at her expectantly. "Well," Twilight asked, "couldn't you just go visit? Surely it wouldn't be that much to go for a day."

"Oh," the unicorn wailed, "but I couldn't. What if I were recognised, walking in like I was some beggar? No, as much as it pains me, I simply must wait until I can present my work there. Then, I will wow them all with my poise, my designs." She stared off into space, and sighed. "It will be just the start of my meteoric rise."

"Ah, right. Well," said Twilight, sensing an opening. "I'd love to stay and talk about it, but I really should be getting back to the library. Somepony might want to, I don't know, get a book out or something, and I'm pretty sure I saw some sorting that needed doing."

"Oh, of course. These parties aren't really planned for ponies with delicate dispositions such as you and I." She stood up as Twilight did - she didn't know if it was out of politeness or if the white unicorn intended to follow her home, chatting all the way. Thankfully, it seemed it was the first. "Don't be a stranger now!" she called as Twilight made her way down the hill. "Us unicorns need to stick together, you know!"

"Spike? Spike!" The library was as messy as she'd left it, and it looked like her assistant was still at the party. She signed - that meant that not only would she not have help tonight, but she'd probably also spend tomorrow morning working alone as the dragon recovered from too much singing, too much dancing, and probably too much liquor as well.

She pulled the book out of her saddlebags, inspecting it critically in the light. Now that she could see it properly, it wasn't that bad a smudge. With a bit of work, she could probably remove even more of it. At least today hasn't been a total failure, she thought to herself.

Next to come out of the saddlebags was the letter-cum-blueprint. That's right, she thought, I was going to write that. Before everyone made my hill conversation central. Well, no time like the present.

She cleared some space on her work desk and laid out another piece of paper. This time she thought for a minute about how to start off rather than risk ruining another sheet.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I have discovered a new project to work on, now I have dealt with the problems of the Summer Sun Celebration. I was talking to one of the village ponies this evening and it turns out that she didn't even know how to read! I understand that hoofscript is passable for crop planting instructions or basic records, but if Equestria is going to have a strong technical workforce, we need to be teaching ponies how to read papers and textbooks - in Equestrian - from an early age. I've even worked out a basic design for a device that should allow any pegasus or earth pony-

-as we call them these days, her brain supplied. She shook her head. What did that even mean? She'd have to ask Spike.

-to read books without the need for a unicorn to turn pages and make notes. I call it a reader, and you can find a blueprint attached. There are still some hitches I can see in the design - particularly in the armature interface, which, if the user turns pages too fast, could clog and result in the operator (or worse, the book) being torn in half, but I figure that as long as we use sixteenth-hoof rejoinder in the connection body (labelled D) and possibly add some cantilever-action return mechanism it may be possible to increase the response time to as little as half a second, and if we further added a spring-buffered overflow stop on the forward-turn armature (assuming, of course, that the subject wishes to turn to the next page more often than the previous page)-

The quill sped up as Twilight's mind raced. There was a sudden tearing noise as it went through the page. Twilight's mind suddenly skipped back to the present as she looked down.

"Oh, double bother," she said to herself. This sort of thing happened far too often. A symptom, Celestia had told her, of an overactive imagination. This was why she got Spike to write the letters most of the time.

She left the letter on her desk as she climbed the stairs to bed. It would at least serve as notes for later. The letter itself, though, could wait until tomorrow.