noun [c], a problem that is difficult to deal with.
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noun [c], a problem that is difficult to deal with.
Twilight blinked blearily at the parchment in front of her. The scratchings on the page were hardly befitting of Ponyville’s most studious librarian, especially compared to her other, usually so well hornwritten scrolls. As the letters spilled into each other in front of her tired eyes, she stifled a heavy yawn and looked at the softly-ticking clock on the wall.
2 AM, she thought as she gently stretched her back, before leaning over the desk again. She was so, so tired. A soft snort rang out from the upper floor of the library as Spike turned from one side to the other, deep in his slumber. Twilight wished she could be in her bed too. Even when she and her friends weren’t saving the world from some great calamity, days in the deceptively sleepy-looking town were hardly uneventful. She needed all the time she could get to rest.
And yet she couldn’t go to sleep.
Twilight had a problem. One she has been unsuccessfully trying to solve for far too long.
It all started when she stumbled upon a book in her library that she had never seen before. It was, for all intents and purposes, a very unremarkable book. Bound in drab, dirty-brown covers, the title on it merely read “Conundrums” in bold, imposing letters. Below it, — in smaller, more calligraphic letters — the line “A Thousand Questions for the Curious Scholar” heralded the book’s purpose. Under this stood a crudely drawn sketch of a goat, idly chewing on some small, cylindrical object, too small to be properly identified. Aside from this odd choice of decoration, neither the cover nor the first page had any other text or mark on it, leaving the author and date of the book’s creation a complete mystery.
Upon opening the book, Twilight found herself face to face with an almost empty page, with merely one line on it, printed in a sloppy, uneven font. There was no introductory text, nor even a page number in the corner. All the book seemed to contain was that single, lonely sentence. She slowly read it.
”1. Her countenance is of whitest snow, crested by a flowing river, reflecting her reflection’s reflections. Who is it?”
Twilight stared at the line. Then it slowly dawned on her.
This is a puzzle! she thought to herself, with growing excitement.
She read the question a few more times. The answer seemed very obvious, but it just kept evading her. She furrowed her brows in concentration and looked around trying to find inspiration from the various trinkets lying on her desk. As her eyes wandered over the rainbow of colors on her desk cast by the Sun’s rays refracting on her window, the answer immediately sprang into her mind.
“Princess Celestia!” she said triumphantly, only to nearly drop the book in surprise.
As soon as the correct answer left her lips, the faded, black letters of the first question began shimmering in golden colors. Twilight leaned close, her mouth agape. As she stared at the glow, she suddenly noticed that a dark spot began to slowly appear below the shining letters. She was about to yank the book away and check if she hadn’t spilled some ink on the desk, when she noticed that the blotch slowly separated into letters and organized into a new question on the page. She quickly read the new line.
”2. At first glance its a body of malice crowned by the head of an innocent. There is no second glance. What is it?”
Twilight did not need to think for this answer. Even if it happened a while ago, one doesn’t just forget about being turned to stone. Still, she had one more thing to make sure of.
“A manticore,” she said with an expectant smile. Nothing happened. Twilight nodded in satisfaction and her smile went wider. She could hardly contain her giddiness. “A cockatrice,” the answer erupted from her. The book shone in silent agreement and began to form the next question.
Twilight immediately fell in love.
Over the next several weeks she spent much of her free time solving the tome’s riddles. Every time a newly solved puzzle began shimmering, a warm feeling spread all over her body. She valued her friends above all, this much was never a question, but this? This was pure, academic joy, distilled to its simplest form, with just enough flavor to keep things intriguing, while never taking away from the parts that actually mattered. Perfect for a pony like her.
To Twilight’s delight the book didn’t discriminate in terms of topics either. Questions regarding history, physics, literature all came up. While some dealt with the more mainstream side of the arts, others required her to delve deep into books and parchments found only in the least-visited wings of the Royal Library. Eventually the librarians began expecting her almost daily visits. It became a favored pastime of theirs to bet on which dusty, abandoned bookshelf she would require during her next mad researching episode.
That is not to say studying was always the key. To her own surprise, some of the solutions popped up during the most unexpected of times. Showers, making breakfast, watering the plants, trying to make sense of Pinkie Pie... When her brain was least focused on just what the next answer could be, it would suddenly just come to her, usually accompanied by a hoof connecting with her face and an exasperated “How did I not think of that?”
The idyll would not last forever though.
As Twilight began to reach the latter half of the book, the puzzles began ramping up in difficulty. What started as merely elaborate questions related to well-known classics like Neighton’s Laws and Pear Shake’s tragedies were soon taken over by problems which were as difficult as they were confounding.
“896. Take me and my friend as many times as you’d like and add us together. We want to meet someone whole, who when taken enough times, is able to match the two of us together. Can you find us a third partner like that?”
“But this is impossible,” Twilight whispered to herself, as she stared at the glowing letters. Her solution was a last-ditch effort, one she said almost as a joke. Fernoat’s Conjecture was only solved last year. I should know, I was there on the gala celebrating this very accomplishment. The problem was famously considered unsolvable for centuries, but even if the book's author did secretly solve it somehow, it is highly unlikely that he or she used the same concepts as I do. They couldn't possibly have had the foresight to enchant the book to know branches of mathematics that we ourselves are only just now discovering.
She hesitated for a moment. This was more than unusual. Beyond reporting correct answers and hiding questions, the book didn’t seem to contain any magic. And even if it did, a spell capable of keeping up to date with scientific accomplishments and turning them into riddles was beyond even the theoretical limits of magic. The thought of reporting the book to the princesses crossed Twilight’s mind. If anypony, they were the ones who could help her out with an odd discovery like this.
She shook her head.
The princesses have plenty on their hooves already. I shouldn’t bother them with something this insignificant. What would I even say? “Princess Celestia, Princess Luna! Help me, I have a book of puzzles with a single weird question!” She snorted, imagining the absurd situation. But then her smile quickly faltered. And what if they actually do take it seriously? She bit her lower lip. What if they think it's an artifact worth their personal study? When would I get the book back? Would I even get it back? I cannot risk that, not when I am this close.
Twilight allowed herself a small sigh as she doubled down on her decision. This would stay her own little secret for now. Nopony else needed to worry about this, not until she was finished and satisfied. Her eyes slid down to the next line and she began to read again.
The rest of the questions were all far more mundane and none of them could ever give Twilight more than a few hours of trouble. As she turned to the nine hundredth question, the anticipation of reaching the end banished the last remaining inklings of worry from her brain. The days kept marching on and so did she with relentless efficiency. She was ready to tackle whatever the book could throw at her as a final challenge.
It didn't take long for that fateful day to arrive. Twilight held her breath back as the nine hundred and ninety ninth line morphed into gold and the dark letters of the one thousandth question slowly began to seep into the paper. The moment the solemn process was finished, she eagerly threw herself at the page, her eyes glinting with the bloodthirsty gaze of a hungry predator.
”1000. What am I?”
She etched the letters into her brain before she even stopped to contemplate their meaning.
Wait, what?
Twilight furrowed her brows as the realization hit her. She read the question again, just to make it sure she hadn’t missed anything. But no, the three words stared back at her with mocking simplicity. Her horn flashed slightly as she cast a spell of identification on the letters, hoping that the author merely hid the rest of the puzzle in plain sight as a practical joke or an attempt to make the reader think outside the box, but no. Just as before, no trace of magic could be found on the page.
What am I? The question stirred and splashed against Twilight’s skull as she read the line again and again.
“Umm, a... Book?” she asked indecisively. As expected, no shimmering greeted her.
Perhaps I need to think even more straightforwardly? she thought to herself.
“A question?” Still nothing.
She shook her head slightly. Surely she was just missing something deeply obvious. Something that was staring her right in the muzzle, something she would immediately realize with a bit of focus. She inhaled and exhaled, setting a fresh parchment in front of herself. She wrote the previous two candidates on the page, then crossed them out. “A series of letters?” Nothing. She scribbled it down and crossed it out. “The one thousandth question?” she asked, hoping perhaps the book just expected a bit more preciseness. Nothing. Another scribble, another crossing out. The Sun slowly marched through the sky, but Twilight noticed nothing of it.
That was two days ago.
Over those painful forty-eight hours she tried everything. She raided the local and royal libraries for any and all relevant material she could find, but none of them brought her any closer. Upon her request, her friends all gave their most valiant attempts. Even Rainbow Dash, after she was able to stop herself from falling over in laughter of how silly Twilight’s problem was. But even their best shots amounted to nothing. The book stubbornly refused to shine. In desperation Twilight even opted to ask anypony who came across her but, though they were all happy to help her, none of them could crack the mysterious puzzle.
Twilight did her best to smile and thank them, but deep down she was fighting a losing battle against her growing frustration.
And after the twentieth pony shrugged and said she was sorry, Twilight had enough. In Sugar Cube Corner, on the other end of the town, Pinkie Pie was about to put a tray of muffins into an oven. She hummed an inane tune to herself, when suddenly her tail began twitching. Panic sat out on the mare’s face as quickly abandoned her post and dove under a table. She remained there for quite some time, unaware of the distant demise of an innocent flower pot, who was unfortunate enough to cross a very angry librarian.
Having satisfied her immediate need for violence, Twilight temporarily closed her library and cancelled all her appointments for the week. She even asked Spike to leave her alone for a while so that she could focus better on the task at hoof. The world soon became a single room, containing only her, the book, and a shelf full of empty scrolls and inkwells. She began writing. She didn’t even bother to pause until she wrote down a hundred possible approaches to the question. Soon one filled parchment turned into two, two to five, five to fifteen.
By the time the night of the second day arrived, the waste bin was already overflowing with crumpled notes. Twilight’s horn sputtered weakly, unable to even lift a quill. As much as she hated to admit it, her magical reserves had been completely exhausted and yet she wasn't a step closer to the solution.
“Maybe... ink?” she asked with quiet dejection, not to rouse her snoring assistant. The book remained inert.
As her eyelids slowly began to close, Twilight felt a sudden wave of rage wash over her. She groaned in frustration. Why was this one question giving her so much trouble when she solved all the others with ease? She blinked into the dim candlelight illuminating her desk. For a moment she thought about casting the book into the flame and never again thinking about it. A moment later her eyelids closed.
Suddenly, as if a dam broke through, her mind began to fill with new ideas. Obscure Ponish expressions, ancient turn of phrases, roundabout scientific nomenclature, all plausible, no, not just plausible, outright evident answers to the tantalizing question.
Twilight quickly cracked her eyes open and scrambled to dip her quill into ink again. But as she looked around, she noticed that the room had changed. Everything was still present, but somehow less... Defined? Anything she tried to look at seemed to slightly shift and waver, as if she was looking through a sheet of flowing water.
Suddenly she heard a voice behind herself.
“Beautiful night we’re having, dear Twilight.”
She spun around or at least she tried, as her body felt sluggish and weighty, like she was swimming in a great jar of honey.
“Princess Luna!” she tried to greet her, but there was nopony behind her. “Is that you? Did something happen?”
“Is it perhaps unusual for the Dreamwalker to walk her subjects’ dreams?” came the reply, tinted with a hint of friendly sarcasm.
“I’m dreaming?” Twilight looked around. “But- But I don’t feel asleep. I was just about to write down my ideas.” She shook her head and blinked a few times. Her quill was nowhere to be found. The room continued to shift and stir. “Why can’t I see you, Princess?”
“It seems like your conviction is so strong that not even I am able to fully enter your mind,” said Luna’s voice with bemusement. However, her praise quickly turned into disapproval, “Impressed as I am, it makes me no less worried about you, Twilight. There are few ponies who are able to distance themselves so fervently from a good night’s sleep and even less who would do it willingly. I believe you have put yourself through quite a strenuous ordeal in order to reach this state.” Twilight could feel the deep concern in the princess’s voice, “For whatever purpose do you torment yourself?”
“I-” Twilight hesitated with her answer. Every way she tried to phrase her reply sounded more laughable than the last. She finally chose the simplest explanation. “I just really wanted to finally finish this book,” she said, slightly hanging her head.
“And, pray tell, what is so important in this book that you have locked yourself away from the world?”
“It’s... I... I don’t even know. I was just so close to the finish.” Twilight sighed deeply. “Oh Princess, I must seem so ridiculous to you right now.”
“What little I’m seeing though the veil that parts your dream from my domain is an exceedingly bright unicorn, slouched over on her desk in complete exhaustion. My powers cannot reach you in your world, nor would I ever force my will upon you, but if you’re willing to listen to my advice, I’d recommend that you abandon this battle and just go to your bed. Your determination, while deeply admirable, is causing yourself far more harm than you might even realize. And for what gain?”
She paused for a second as if she was waiting for an answer. Twilight could not find any.
“Farewell now, Twilight, I trust that you will make the right choice,” as her voice spoke, it slowly became quieter and quieter, until it completely faded away, leaving Twilight alone in her weird world.
Twilight sat in silence for a few seconds. Then she looked around again and the room exploded into color. A million pieces of trivia and potential answers floated around the room, all just waiting for her to memorize them. Tens of thousands of clues and sparks of information danced in front of her eyes, coyly offering themselves for further study. She marveled at the sight of a hundred fascinating questions as they lazily floated past her, all somehow connected to that one maddening string of letters.
”What am I?”
Twilight almost reached out to touch the one of the wisps, but her hoof stopped midair. The phantoms froze in their place as well, as if they couldn’t understand what she was doing. Twilight scoffed at them and shut her eyes tightly. For a moment she felt like she’s falling. That is until she realized it wasn’t just a feeling, her head was actually speeding towards the desk as she nodded off. She caught herself before her face could slam into the wood.
She rubbed her tired eyes.
“You know what you are?” she asked the book with a quiet chuckle. “A colossal waste of time.”
With that she closed the book and left it on her desk, amidst all the cryptic scratchings that plagued her mind just minutes ago. She took a deep breath and stretched again. Then she trotted off to her bed. As she snuggled under the sheets and began to drift off, she thought about the book one more time. Maybe she would attempt the puzzle tomorrow. Or maybe not. There were far more important things waiting for her.
The book’s silent shimmer was only met with the peaceful snores of a far more relaxed pony. At the same time, far away from Ponyville, the earliest rays of the Sun just began to reach the royal gardens of Canterlot. As the sunlight spilled over the tall walls separating the park from the rest of the city, it fell upon a statue of a terrible, mismatched being, frozen in perpetual laughter. A statue, which at this moment would have much preferred to furrow its brows, if only it was capable of doing that.
How disappointing, it thought with the slightest hint of frustration. I really hoped I could break her with that tricky little book. It would have made things a fair bit easier for me. I must have become sloppy during the last millennia. The statue tried to shake its head. The stone continued to hold strong. Oh right. Well, no use in tears I’m not even able to spill! If I recall correctly, that little group of foals will be here any day now. I guess it is time for plan B.
Author's Note
This is fic originally started as something far more serious and a bit more introspective into the way I approach writing. However, it soon became apparent, that the story wasn't turning out to be nearly as profound as I originally intended, so instead I leaned into this realization and just tried to tell a blatantly simple, but hopefully somewhat satisfying little tale.
