Following the Thread

Checklist: check.

Letter from the princess confirming the order: check.

Invoice: check.

Train ticket: check.

Number one assistant: check.

Those were the essentials, anyway.

"Earth to Miss Twilight?"

She started with a jolt, banging her horn against the top of the cabinet. Steam whistled through her teeth. "Yes, yes?"

A little earthen filly, ruddy brown in demeanor and inflamed of mane, offered up her tribute. "I wanted to bring this back to the library."

Crystal Broadcasting for Dummies was the tome. Smelt vaguely of grapefruit, for some reason.

Standard fare for budding speaksponies.

She took stock of the little one. Cornflower, wasn't it?

"You're three days early, but alright!" Her saddlebags flipped open, casting a small slip of parchment over to her patron. "I took the liberty of making recommendations for further reading. Just remember to fill out the log if you take anything."

Twilight was already breaking for the door when a question nipped at her ears. "Miss Twilight, are you not goin' to be around for the day?"

She shrugged, tilting her head back. "I need to pick up an important package in Canterlot. It's a surprise."

"Hope it's a good'un."

Twilight blinked blearily at the thickheaded clinician. The glasses fixed slightly askew on her face. The lenses flashed in the light. She broke a smile.

“Well, Ms. Sparkle, I’d say you’re good to go!” said Dr. Dry Eyes. He clapped a hoof to her back, rattling her diminutive frame.

As quickly as clarity was granted, he stole it away. “Oh, just noticed the problem there. Let me fix it for you.”

He turned away, leaving Twilight to examine the slightly crumpled pamphlet on the desk. Her violet aura snatched it away, unfolding it before her eyes. She pursed her lips. Awfully dated.

Hello! You are now the new owner of a pair of

Down To Earth Technologies, Inc.

Compu-Scry Spectacles

Our magitech network interfaces with your thaumatical system, regardless of race, to allow for cutting-edge networking and word processing.

New Aethernet connections are few and far between, but with this pilot program, we hope to create brand new networks with Scry users. Each pair of Compu-Scry Spectacles can directly interface with any unit within 300 feet.

If you’ve used a DTE Compu-Scry terminal before, then you’ll find the user experience to be almost identical!

(user manual inc. in box)

"Uh, it says there’s a manual?” she asked.

Spectacles, free of taint, were pressed back onto her nose. The doctor frowned. “This was a rush job, Ms. Sparkle. You might want to ask the Princess to ask the company to maybe send me a pair, with, I don’t know, the packaging?”

He pushed some other pieces of paper on the desk noncommittally.

“This is all they sent.”

Another pamphlet about other DTE products, some ad for an expo in Manehattan, and..

“A Certificate of Authenticity?” The handwritten slip proclaimed Twilight Sparkle was User #493! Neat?

She rummaged in her saddle bags, eventually proffering a satchel of bits. He frowned, pushing it away. “Ma’am, Princess Celestia insisted that she would personally bankroll this for you. I can’t take your money.”

The unicorn bobbed her head in understanding. “Well, still.” Her hooves scratched the floor as she shuffled out. “I get to come back if there’s a problem, right?”

He let out a hearty laugh, his own spectacles jostling on his face. “Oh, of course. Of course. Have a good day, Ms. Sparkle.”

“You too, doctor.”

Spike hopped to his feet, padding quickly to Twilight’s side. The dragon's eyes sparked in interest of something only marginally more important than the latest geek fancy. Er, comic books, that is.

“Gee, Twilight!” he said. “Those sure are some snazzy new glasses.”

Twilight’s vision broke. As soon as she had left, her senses had been assaulted by information. The interface in this device was constantly scanning and presenting her with information. Spike: dragon. Canterlot: town. Map: present. Hobnobbers: abound. Who was Mister Moneybags? She didn’t know, and she didn’t feel like it was altogether important.

“I know, it’s a bit dorky.” The thick frames drooped when she lowered her head to him. “But I’m lucky Princess Celestia decided to approve this. Thaumotech is very expensive.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” he waved her off. “A bajillion bits or something. We both know she’ll do anything to keep her number one student happy.”

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes on the road ahead.

She kinda wanted to splurge on a chariot, maybe pull a few strings. But this wasn’t a rush job. The train would do. Just might be a couple extra hours.

The sun shimmered high in the sky as they left the station. Twilight’s magic plucked at the glasses, even though Spike was trying his best to chip at her tunnel vision.

It was almost a snap of his talon before they were rolling into Ponyville proper.

Breaking free from the microcosm of magitech was almost strenuous. There was a throbbing pressure behind her right eye as she forced herself through the shutdown process.

Step one:

Find your magical center.

For unicorns, this was rather intuitive. Plant your hooves to the ground. Inhale through the nose. Exhale through the mouth.

Imagine your magic as a tightly clenched ball. Press that ball down.

Down, more. Scratch it along your chin. Through the fur on your belly. Tickle through your tail. Run up your back. Maybe pause to get rid of that dreadful itch.

Force that ball right behind your head. (Okay, you can go the other way top-up but this is more fun).

Step two:

Consume.

Press that down into your head. Smooth it out like peanut butter. Smear around your insides like a high quality oil. It will steam out your orifices.

The glasses flashed purple for a second, and then the glazy haze over the town faded to clear. The budding mage clenched her jaw.

I mean, what kind of absolute ass writes like that?

Rarity took it the best, she thought.

"Oh, darling. It may not be my style, but you radiate confidence with a simple bit of eyewear!" she claimed. Her front hoof tapped at the dirt. "Although, it might not hurt to have me spruce it up a bit."

Rainbow's barbs about 'peak egghead' weren't uncalled for, she admitted. A librarian -- nerd -- geek -- with glasses. Twilight's snout wiggled at half-smile. At least Fluttershy had her back on that front.

Applejack wouldn't stop giving her the eyebrow, although that was better than trying to field Pinkie's questions she couldn't hope to answer.

When there at last broke a lull in the conversation, their faithful leader spoke. "Now, now, girls." She flashed them an anxious smile. "I know it's nerdy, and expensive, and not the height of couture, but I'd rather have a nice night out with all of you. I have activities scheduled later so we can each find out what the glasses are capable of."

Rainbow Dash's face screwed up at that. "Twi, I don't care if that tells me how many records I'm breaking with every practice run I make." She smooshed her friend's nose. "Not. Cool."

Twilight suppressed a smirk. "Let's settle this over drinks, okay? My treat."

Even as Rainbow finished her seventh drink, Twilight couldn't help but smug over her glass of brandy. Really, she'd trade every experiment in the world to have Rarity and Fluttershy STOP ARGUING OVER THE BILL.

"Another one, please," Twilight said.

"Oh, me too!" chimed in Pinkie.

The night cascaded into a blur of arguments over who the better Royal Sister was, if it were better to have beers cold or room temperature, and what the correct order to apply condiments to your hayburger were. (The obvious answer, Twilight supposited, was mayonnaise first as a supportive layer on the bottom bun, and then pick and choose what to apply to the top before you added your other garnishes. To do so otherwise was to have it all squish out on the sides when you put the top on.)

They left leg-in-leg out of the bar as the night drew thick and heavy. Tummies full, legs of jelly, smiles wide. It was a good night.

Twilight almost collapsed through the front door, hornlight shimmering up the infinite, space-time contorting stairwell.

Spike tugged at her foreleg, leading the delirious pony to her bed. "Come on, Twilight," he said with the air of someone who needed a raise. "Take your medicine."

The thaumaturge choked down the little grey pills dry, hacking into her pillow. Spike plucked the glasses from her face. "These'll be here tomorrow, okay?"

She grumbled something.

"I love you too. Good night!"

And all was dark.