An Infinite Loop

It was tomorrow.

"You know, the funny thing about this city..."

And I'd seen her again.

"... is that it sounds an awful lot like the city in Equestria..."

But I was just stalling.

"... but the tunnel here points to Filly Delphia, of all places. And the nearest tunnel to that is in Appleloosa or Dodge City or something, and that one doesn't even lead to the same hemisphere. You gotta wonder who designed these things."

Tempest gave it a moment's thought, then shrugged. "Nobody designed them. And none of them point to the same place on Earth. So, I don't know what you'd expect."

"Right, but, it's kind of weird, isn't it?"

She shrugged again. "Yeah, I guess."

I was boring her! Why did I keep doing this?

Silence wasn't the enemy. I could sit across from her and eat lunch in silence for a while and nothing bad would happen. I could. But I had never been good at it.

As I was fidgeting in silence, all the lights in the mall went out with a whump for a split second, then flickered back on in patches. Must have been a momentary power outage. I'd seen this happen elsewhere - they were more common in winter. Everyone was looking around at each other for a while, gauging reactions, and I found most humans weren't all too surprised either. Seemed nothing to worry about.

"So," I kept yapping, "Got any plans for Hearth's Warming - or Christmas, or whatever?"

Tempest had to think about it for a minute. I hoped that wasn't a bad question. Eventually she said, "I haven't been home in a while. But I might just keep moving along."

"Moving along?"

She nodded, smiling. "Still a lot of world to see."

So it really was my last chance. I was just trying to turn some words over about my own plans for the holiday - or lack of plans - when there was a commotion behind us.

Some humans were arguing over a food stall. The payment hadn't gone through, or something, and the teller turned their computer around to show a 'blue screen of death'. I'd seen those before. But I'd also seen the logo in the corner. I saw it every day I walked into the office, every time I turned on my computer, and every time I read an official e-mail.

Infinity Enterprise Solutions. That was where I worked.

The same little skit played out around the whole food court. It seemed most of the stalls used Infinity software, and it was breaking all at once. That didn't look like a coincidence.

"Is something happening?" Tempest asked.

That was more or less what I asked Devon via text: Is the release going alright? To Tempest I said, "I'm not sure." Well, obviously something was happening! "It might be a problem at my job."

"Good thing you have a week off, right?"

I wasn't so ready to wave it off. I didn't have to text my supervisor, but it seemed like the right thing to do if I was serious about my career. Or whatever.

Devon's response came: no

As I picked up my saddlebags and said a quick, disappointed goodbye to Tempest, I was less certain about actually having the week off.

The bus schedule was different in the evenings, so it took me twice as long as usual to get to the office, and there was freezing rain out, so I was wet and cold by the time I actually made it indoors. At least I had slept in today.

There were fewer people in the office than usual, but every one of them was in a panic or a daze, shouting into phones or pleading with their workstations or hopping between humid meeting rooms. Devon wasn't responding to messages on the work chat, but he must have still been in the building, so I circled the floor looking for him.

Eventually I spotted him half-trotting out of an elevator. I actually didn't recognize him at first - most days I never actually saw him anyway, and on top of the lack of variety in office outfits, he was a little disheveled and wild-looking. But the glasses were distinct. In contrast, he recognized me immediately. But I was the only pony on his team.

"Oh, hey."

"Hay," I said. Then I repeated Tempest's obvious question, because I couldn't think of anything better. "Is something happening?"

"Yeah, kind of," he said, pushing a hand through his mane. "There was a problem with the release. We're still looking into the impact, but it seems kind of, uh..." He shook his head. "Bad. And widespread. Which is also bad."

"Anything I can help with?"

"On your vacation?"

"I mean, I'm here. I can help. Just show me what to do."

He grimaced as he said, "I appreciate it, but right now we just need to work the problem. I think you would get in the way more than help. Just-" he started walking away. "Just enjoy your vacation. And I might not see you before your term ends, so Happy New Year, too!"

"Happy New Year," I said, qietly, though he was already out of earshot.

I got soaked again on the way back to the bus stop, and had to wait in the cold for about a half hour.

Devon was a good supervisor. A good person all around. He was patient, generous with his time, and accepting of differences. And I knew he was honest, too. That was just his honest opinion. He wasn't being mean. He was telling the truth.

Why did the truth make me cry?

I couldn't find her on HoofPrint anymore. She had probably moved on, like she said. It wasn't really a big deal if I never saw her again. That was just another truth. I could live my life alone - I'd been doing it for a couple years already.

There wasn't much left for me back in Ponyville. I'd seen to that. He either still hated me or didn't even remember me, and I wasn't sure what was worse.

But there wasn't much for me here either. Another year of school, another term of co-op, and maybe I'd get a diploma out of it. For what? I was never going to have the skills of a human educated in her field or the talents of a pony committed to her mark. I would always just get in the way.

No reason to stay, no reason to leave, but it wasn't so bad. I was still pampered. I could keep existing like this for as long as I...

Ping!

Wanted?

I checked HoofPrint. There was a match. In my messages, I saw her in a little bubble, with her strong neck and her dark eyes and her truncated horn. And she'd sent the word: hay.