The Fickleness of an Enamel-Based Economy
It’d taken way, way, way too long, but Twilight’s very last baby tooth had finally, finally, finally come out. She’d already done a full year at the Canterlot School for Gifted Unicorns and then some, shouldn’t she have a full mouth by now? At least it hadn’t come out while she was eating an apple and been all ouchy and stuff. No, she’d just been poking at it with her tongue while reading in her room and it’d popped right out.
“What’s that?” asked Spike. At first Twilight had been a bit miffed about sharing her room with a baby, even if that baby was a dragon, even if that dragon was the one she’d hatched. But Spike wasn’t annoying like most babies; he could even talk already! So he was cool.
“My last tooth,” said Twilight. “See?” She held the tooth up.
“Last tooth? How do you know it’s your last?”
Twilight frowned. “Be- because it’s the last loose one.”
“But what if they come loose again?”
“Loose again? Teeth don’t do that.”
“Mine do. Like this.” Spike reached inside his mouth, wiggled a tooth a little, and pulled it out. “See?” He held it up for Twilight to see. “This is the second time I’ve lost this one this year.”
“Ooo. Really?” Twilight zipped up to Spike and examined his tooth. It didn’t look special, but she hadn’t seen dragon teeth up close before. It was curved, and that inside edge was sharp and dangerous.
“Sure,” said Spike. “I lose teeth all the time and just throw them away.”
Twilight gasped. “Throw them away?! You can’t throw them away! How’ll the Tooth Breezie bring you bits if you throw them away?”
Spike’s tail went rigid, his frills flared out, and his eyes widened. “I get bits for teeth?” he said excitedly. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?” Then his eyes narrowed. “Wait. Bits for teeth? Seriously? This Tooth Breezie doesn’t sound all that smart.”
“I know it sounds silly, but Mom and Dad told me all about her,” said Twilight. “When you lose a tooth, you put it under your pillow, and the Tooth Breezie comes while you sleep and gives you a bit for it.”
Spike raised an eyeridge.
“I did experiments!” protested Twilight. “I tried different types of teeth, different forms of bags, different pillows, even making fake teeth! I got help from Mom to record everything, and the results were clear: the Tooth Breezie always gives you a bit for a tooth, but only for a real tooth.”
Spike started turning the tooth over in his claws. “I dunno. It still sounds pretty weird.”
“Aw, come on,” said Twilight. “Even if the Tooth Breezie doesn’t exist, I have conclusively proved the existence of enamel-to-bits transmutation via a pillow-based catalyst, so you’ll definitely get your money. Besides, what’ve you got to lose?”
“Nothing, I guess.” Spike scratched at the tooth with a claw. “So do you think I should put this one under my pillow now? Or wait a while and save up my teeth? They really do keep falling out.”
Twilight hmmed and haahed and tapped her chin knowingly. “I guess you should think about whether you want less money now or more money later. Maybe you should wait a month.”
Spike looked at his one tooth. To Twilight, at least, it looked like a lonely little tooth. “If it means I get more, I think I can wait a month.”
“Great! I’ll tell Mom and Dad about it once you’re ready.” But, Twilight realized, she still needed to figure out how dragons could keep losing teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She stood up and held herself high. “I have some research to do.”
One month later…
“Mom! Dad!” Twilight said, zooming into the living room. “We’re gonna be rich!”
“Oh?” Mom said, nudging a knick-knack into place on the piano. “And why’s that?”
“Because Spike is a polyphyodont!”
“That’s nice, dear,” said Dad from his place behind the newspaper. “What’s a polyfiledont?”
Twilight cleared her throat and put on her Little Miss Lecturer voice. “We are diphyodonts, which means we grow two sets of teeth: baby teeth and grown-up teeth. Polyphyodonts, on the other hoof, keep losing and regrowing their teeth throughout their life. Mammals like us are actually in the minority, but r-”
Mom coughed. She suddenly looked awfully still. “And… what does that have to do with money?”
“I’m glad you asked!” It was a phrase Twilight had heard a lot from some of her teachers. She didn’t know why she needed to mention that she was glad, but it made her sound Important. “I’m running a test tonight! Spike’s been saving up his teeth for the past month, and he has twelve, and he’s gonna put them under his pillow to see if the Tooth Breezie’s exchange rate for dragon teeth is the same as the exchange rate for pony teeth!” She put a hoof next to her mouth and stage-whispered, “I bet dragon teeth are worth more!”
“Uh-huh,” said Dad. “Cool.”
“And if it works,” Twilight said triumphantly, “he’ll keep putting teeth under his pillow and making money for us, and since he’s a polyphyodont, he’ll never run out of teeth, so we’ll always be making money!” She grinned. “After all, my experiments have shown that the Tooth Breezie always delivers.”
Mom blinked. She blinked a lot. Twilight hoped she hadn’t gotten dust in her eyes. “And… he’s lost twelve teeth in a month?”
Twilight nodded vigorously. “The lifespan of a dragon tooth isn’t real long. It’s only like two months an-” She stopped and frowned. “You know, this means he doesn’t have to brush his teeth, ‘cause if they get bad, he can just replace them. Lucky.”
“Um…” Mom started coughing. “That’s nice, sweetie, but don’t you have some homework to do?”
“Omigosh!” Twilight squeaked, jumping into the air. “I forgot! I get to learn about negative numbers!” She raced out of the room. After a second, she poked her head back in. “Negative numbers are awesome, by the way! They’re less than zero!” And she was gone again.
The moment Twilight Sparkle was out of the room, Twilight Velvet put up a silencing spell around herself and Night Light and began screaming like a tea kettle. “Aaaaaaaaaaaa-”
“I take it this is somehow a bad thing,” said Night Light, not looking up from his newspaper.
Velvet calmed her hyperventilation a little. “I told you we shouldn’t’ve gotten her that encyclopedia!” she hissed.
“It was the only thing she wanted!” protested Night Light. “And I didn’t have any ideas! I mean, what kind of six-year-old wants an encyclopedia for her birthday? And what does this have to do with the Tooth Breezie, anyway?”
“If she didn’t have it, she wouldn’t’ve learned about polywhateverism, and we wouldn’t be in this situation!”
“What situation? We’ll tell her the Tooth Breezie doesn’t exist,” Night Light said, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t figured it out already.”
“You don’t understand!” Velvet said as she paced back and forth. “Thanks to her experiments with her teeth, the Tooth Breezie solidified Twilight’s trust in the scientific method! If Spike doesn’t get his bits, her faith in it will be shattered! If her faith in the scientific method is shattered, she won’t know basic experimental rigor! If she doesn’t know basic experimental rigor, she won’t do well in school! If she doesn’t do well in school, her brilliant mind will go unused! If her brilliant mind goes unused, she won’t fulfill the destiny Celestia thinks she has! If she doesn’t fulfill the destiny Celestia thinks she has, someday a cataclysmic problem will come up that she can’t fix! If someday a cataclysmic problem comes up that she can’t fix, Equestria will be destroyed!” She loomed over Night Light, pushed his paper down, and whisper-screamed, “I don’t want Equestria to be destroyed! She’s got to keep believing in the Tooth Breezie!”
Night Light raised an eyebrow. “I reeeally hope she didn’t inherit your neuroticism.” He pulled the paper back up.
Velvet huffed and started pacing again. “Look, I, I need something to keep her believing in the Tooth Breezie that keeps Spike’s polyficodontism from bankrupting us. If we start delivering bits and then stop, she’ll-”
“You’re sure we can’t just-”
“I don’t want to risk it!” Velvet started running a hoof through her mane. “I don’t know if you noticed, but our daughter is prone to… extremes. She doesn’t just get happy, she gets ecstatic. She doesn’t just get nervous, she gets paranoid.”
“And that’ll translate to the Tooth Breezie’s nonexistence ruining her life?”
“It might!”
Night Light rolled his eyes again and folded the paper. “Look, honey,” he said as he got off the couch, “I still think you’re overreacting. But I’ll think of something if you can’t. Just tell me this evening if you’re still stuck, and we’ll think of something together.”
“Alright,” said Velvet. She ruffled her mane and sighed. “And even if we give Spike money, we’ll need an excuse for why it doesn’t keep coming. Any idea how we’ll pull that off?”
“Dunno,” Night Light said with a shrug. He dropped back onto the couch and pulled the paper back up. “But you’ll think of something.”
Velvet rolled her eyes and began pacing. Think… Think… Think…
The moment Spike woke up, he started digging under his pillow, searching for his bits. But there was nothing there. None of that sweet coin-on-coin clink. No bags of coins. No gems. No ingots. Nothing. Spike sighed and reluctantly withdrew his hand.
Wait. There’d been no bags of teeth, either…
Spike turned to the foot of his bed and- There it was! A small bag, sitting there, waiting for him to open it! There was even a note attached to it. Not being able to read yet, he ignored the note and literally tore the bag open. Golden bits spilled out, winking at him. He began counting. One, two, three… all the way up to twenty-four! Wow! Twenty-four bits, all for him!
“Twilight! Twilight!” Spike yelled as he shook her awake. “We’re rich!”
She was up in an instant. “Did it work? How many did you get?”
“Twenty-four!”
“From twelve teeth? Wow!”
“She even left me a note!” Spike continued, waving the note. “Can you read it for me?”
“A letter right from the Tooth Breezie? Gimme!” Twilight levitated the note in front of her and cleared her throat. “‘Dear Spike,’” she read in her Important Voice, “‘as much as I like your business, I’m afraid this arrangement cannot continue beyond today. Your parents have asked me to take your-’” Twilight frowned. “That is not how you spell ‘polyphyodontism’,” she tutted. “You’d think she, of all ponies, would know how to spell tooth-related words. ‘-your polyfiodontism into account and not deliver any more bits to you. I hope you understand and I hope this bag of bits is enough for now. Sincerely, The Tooth Breezie.’”
Spike’s frills drooped a little. “Aw.” But only a little. He had bits now, didn’t he?
“Wait, there’s a little more. ‘P.S. If you want a more detailed explanation of why I can’t work with you, talk with your dad. He made some very convincing arguments.’”
Spike asked the question once Twilight had left for magic second grade. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?” Dad asked. He put another plate in the dishwasher.
“Why’s the Tooth Breezie only giving me one bag of bits?”
“What makes you think that?”
“She gave me a note that said that.”
Dad raised an eyebrow and levitated another plate off the “dirty” stack. “Really.”
“Yeah.” Spike nodded. “She said you knew why.”
Dad twitched and the plate flew into the air. He flailed with his hooves in an attempt to catch it before snatching it out of the air in his mouth. “Weawwy?” His eyes had gotten pretty big and his ears were moving forward and backward a lot. Spike almost giggled. Pony ears were silly.
“Sure. It was on the note.”
Trembling a little, Dad placed the plate in the dishwasher. “C-can I see that note?” Spike pulled out the note and held it up for Dad to read. After a moment of his eyes darting back and forth, he mumbled, “Well, I… I did say that…”
Well, of course he’d said that. The letter said so. But whatever. “So why am I only getting bits once?”
“Well, um, uh…” Dad bit his lip, then barked out, “Inflation!”
“In-what-tion?” Spike had heard that term a few times before, but only in relation to balloons.
“Uh… yeah, inflation!” said Dad. He was grinning stiffly. “It’s, uh… you know how hay’s really cheap because it’s common, and we eat it at least once a week? But gems are rare and expensive, so you can only eat them at special times?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, uh, money works the same way!” Dad was sweating and breathing really quickly. Spike couldn’t understand why he was so excited about this. “If there’s a lot of it, it’s worth less, and you need more of it to buy the same stuff! And, uh, the Tooth Breezie… doesn’t like working with dragons! Yyyyeah. You keep losing teeth, she keeps giving you bits, and the value of the bit goes down. Sheeeooompoff.” He made a downwards motion with a hoof. “And, and if she kept working with dragons, the massive amount of bits would destroy the Equestrian economy.”
“Oh.” Already, Spike thought inflation was a stupid idea. Why couldn’t you just keep one bit at the value of one bit? Then you could smelt lots and lots of bits, give them away, and everybody would be rich! That would be awesome. Everybody sitting on a pile of gold, with a hoard of their- Hang on. “So is that why wild dragons don’t let ponies take from their hoards? It’d make bits worth less?”
Dad blinked a few times, then grinned even more broadly. “Yes! That is indeed the case! I-in fact, it’s even worse than that. See, at first, dragons got bits from the Tooth Breezie. It’s, uh… how they built up their hoards! It’s, uh, why the oldest dragons are the richest. And they did used to give ponies gold and gems and stuff. But one day, the Tooth Breezie decided to practice good economics and told them that, after a certain age, she’d stop bringing them bits because of inflation. But the dragons wanted to keep their bits, and with the, uh, the Tooth Breezie not giving them any money, they weren’t making any money to replace the stuff they were giving away. So now the dragons don’t give out money anymore. Also, uh, old dragons have really big teeth, and it was a pain for the Tooth Breezie to carry them. Yeah. Definitely that.”
“Ooooooh.” Stupid older dragons, ruining things for everybody else. Why’d they have to get all the good gold? Spike wanted a big hoard, but all he had was twenty-four bits. It was a perfectly respectable amount, particularly for a small dragon like him, but he was going to grow, and that meant his wannabe hoard needed to grow, and that would be hard if the Tooth Breezie wasn’t going to give him free money for his teeth. Why couldn’t she just do her job?
Dad coughed. “D-don’t you have chores to do? Like rake the backyard?”
Stupid chores. Even stupider than older dragons. “But Daaaaaaad…”
“No buts!”
Spike snorted. He almost blew fire that time, but it still wouldn’t come. “Fine.” Moping, he headed to the backyard. Leaves needed to be raked. Fall was stupid. Not quite as stupid as older dragons or chores, though.
He didn’t notice Dad releasing a breath like a deflated balloon.
