Twilight Sparkle stared at the cactus.
The thirst for knowledge knew no bounds. Every scientist will—at some point in his or her life—encounter a challenge that truly tests their resolve, and their commitment to the advance of scientific knowledge.
This is when they need to make a choice: One between the advance of scientific knowledge, and the ‘easy way out’.
In some cases the easy way presents itself as p-hacking, as the allure of bending the truth, cutting corners to get a paper out in time, or at all. Some know fully well that they’re performing shoddy work, while others remain convinced that whatever they’re doing is common, justified, and the only way they could possibly handle their workload.
In other cases, the ‘easy way out’ is just resignation, bowing to the seeming impossibility of your task, and getting a nice, cozy job somewhere in Canterlot or Manehattan. At a library, in the industry, or at your local burger joint, where you’ll be flipping hayburgers for the rest of your life, wondering where it all went so wrong.
Twilight Sparkle did not have it that easy.
Her eyes were glued to the prime specimen located on her desk. Trichocereus pachanoi, of the Cactaceae family, and as bristly as they came.
She would have to go where—presumably—no mare had gone before. She’d have to do the unthinkable.
A bead of sweat formed on her forehead. A second one followed shortly after. Her breath was fast. She felt tense.
The cactus stood proud and tall, dominating the alicorn’s living room table with the imperturbable smugness of a plant whose prickly protection shielded it from its predators with staggering efficiency.
Its pointy spines reflected in Twilight’s pupils, daring her to step closer.
The cactus knew.
“Even if you manage to eat me, I win. I don’t experience any pain, but you do, and every single bite will hurt.”
This is probably what the cactus would say, Twilight imagined. If it could speak, that is.
Twilight was hyperventilating, panting as if she’d ran a marathon.
“...Twilight, are you alright?”
“AH!”
The alicorn one-eightied, and stared at her intruder. Her glistening, wide-open eyes met Princess Celestia’s. The solar princess gave a concerned head-tilt. “Twilight, I...”
“W-whatever do you mean, princess? Of course I am alright, princess! Don’t worry about me, princess, I made sure to consult all available literature, and have everything I need, princess!”
Twilight gestured towards an assortment of products and trinkets—various ointments, butter, 70% isopropanol alcohol, her favorite teddy bear (a gift from Shiny), four dense technical books (for comfort, she’d read them cover to cover), a bucket, Spike, a clipboard, several quills and a pot of ink, tweezers of various sizes, a second bucket, band-aids and bandages, and finally a pack of super-soft, extra-fluffy, six-times-layered, perfume-scented toilet paper rolls—and forced a tense, awkward smile.
Princess Celestia opened her mouth. “Twilight, I...”
She stalled, and her maw fell shut. It was rare that she struggled to find the right words, but this situation was a first for her.
Twilight Sparkle stood between Celestia and the cactus, as though worried that the solar diarch might take it from her.
Another try. Princess Celestia opened her mouth, again.
“Twilight. You do not need to eat that cactus.”
Twilight disagreed. She was about to interject, only to find her interjection interrupted by Princess Celestia’s hoof, which had been thrust into her mouth with all the gentle, loving care necessary to cut her off.
“Shhhh.”
Celestia’s hoof was ejected from Twilight’s mouth. Her breath slowed down as the princess continued.
“You need to look out for yourself, Twilight. Don’t you see how tense you are? Take a few deep, deep breaths, and relax. And if you really want to do it...well, the cactus will still be waiting for you tomorrow, right?” Celestia offered a careful smile.
This time Twilight couldn’t help herself.
“B-but the schedule...!” A massive to-do list—rolled up to keep its tail from dragging across the floor—poofed into existence.
Celestia cocked a brow. “...And, what about the schedule?”
Twilight’s lower lip wobbled a little. She was staring up at her mentor like a nervous puppy. “B-but Celestia, I promised myself that I’d do it. F-for science. Someone has to be the one to do it, a-and to document it, and see if it’s even possible. I’m the alicorn, it’s my r-responsibility, and, and...I said that I would do it today...”
“We~ll...And I am Princess Celestia, and...” Celestia cleared her throat, and puffed out her chest. “...Ahem. I hereby free you from all other responsibilities, and order you to assist me in an important, royal matter at the local hayburger joint.”
Twilight gasped.
The princess had managed to put all the authority of a public announcement into her voice. A short pause followed.
“...If you’d like, I mean.”
A certain purple bookhorse chewed on her lower lip, her inner resolve threatening to melt beneath Celestia’s warmth.
“But priiiincess...”
A hint of a smile crept onto Celestia’s lips. Oh yes. She recognised that voice.
“Mhmyes, Twilight?” Tia cooed.
“Y-you can’t just...it’s not...an emergency...and...and...”
“Oh, but it is an emergency. Who else is going to eat all those plump, juicy hayburgers otherwise?”
“But, but...!”
“No more buts, Twilight. One but is more than enough, even when it comes to my favorite little student.”
“Uuuugghh...” Twilight whine-whinnied in frustration, her cheeks flushed beet-red.
Celestia knew what that meant. She’d won. A smile crept upon her lips as Twilight left the cactus behind—throwing it just one last glance—and stepped closer to her.
Pomf.
Twilight Sparkle buried her muzzle in Celestia’s chestfluff, her frustrated/grateful (frustateful?) groan muffled by the sheer amount of dense, well-kempt fur. So soft. And warm. Celestia was right. She shouldn’t be so stubborn about this whole dumb, silly cactus thing.
Princess Celestia wrapped a wing around Twilight, tugging her student even closer against her chest, and giving her a few seconds of the warm comfort she so sorely needed.
Twilight finally let out a sigh. She felt so much better already. She’d go to bed early today.
And besides, she really was hungry. She wanted a burger. A BIG burger, since she was a BIG princess, and deserved one.
But first...“Princess? Do you understand why I need to eat a cactus, at least?”
Celestia frowned, just a tiny little bit.
Twilight continued. “Sorry, I just...I won’t do it. Not today. Today I have an important royal mission to take care of.” She smiled. “I just...wondered if you understand why, that’s all.”
Twilight was looking upwards, past that mound of glorious, silky-soft regal fluff, into Celestia’s eyes.
The princess sighed. “I...can’t say I do, Twilight. Why do you need to eat that cactus?”
Twilight hesitated. “It’s...well...I’ve been reading these papers on the possibility of equine life in deserts. It turns out that a whole lot of long-standing conjectures and ideas stand or fall with...well, with the question whether equines can subsist on certain succulents, and on cacti in particular.”
The alicorn swallowed nervously. “I-in other words, a few hypotheses rest on this, and the sooner someone can take conclusive steps towards an answer, the better! We m-might be able to figure out whether ponykind resided in deserts and steppes throughout different points of history, or if all ruins found were nothing but breakpoints, and relied on caravans or oases!”
She was getting excited now.
“A-and besides, it is a very natural question. Within Equestria we have excellent categorizations, we know which plants can be eaten, which taste bad, and which are poisonous, but anything beyond Equestria is still unexplored territory!”
Twilight’s eyes glistened with excitement.
“I need to do it. A-and I can’t just make someone else do it, since I need to document the entire process, and—as an alicorn—it’d be irresponsible to leverage my power to get someone else to do it...!”
Her breath was heavy. Twilight smiled an awkward, but cheerful smile.
“S-sorry, Princess Celestia, I’m just...uhm...”
Celestia nodded, and gave her a comforting squeeze. She’d been listening the entire time. Twilight didn’t know if her mentor truly, really understood, but she didn’t need to. Celestia stood behind her, and if she really wanted to do it, then it was her choice, and her choice alone.
And then—like the chubby, hayburger-munching alicorn she was—Twilight’s thoughts returned to plumb, mouth-filling, juicy hayburgers and similar fast food delicacies. Her stomach growled.
“Princess? Maybe you’d like to go for that burger now? I’m so, so hungry.”
Author's Note
I am not sure why I wrote this.
Scratch that, I know why I wrote it: I wanted to write something funny. I hope that it was funny, and that it caused you to smile, or to exhale air slightly faster than usual.
Will there be a sequel someday? There might be. Maybe.
