Celestial Mechanics

Chapters

Prologue
Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day
Chapter 2: The Scientist

Prologue

Celestial Mechanics
Prologue

It was the first day of spring. Not the arbitrary date determined by the Cloudsdale Weather Authority for Winter Wrap-Up, but the real date as declared by nature herself – the timing of which is as beyond the control of ponies as the very flow of time itself.

It was true that the citizens of Ponyville rolled out the red carpet for the change of seasons, clearing fields and scrubbing skies. They planted the seeds and pruned the wayward branches. They did many things to prepare for the coming of the new season, wiping away the old and setting the place for the new. But no matter how hard they worked, no matter how many bunnies they herded or nests they wove, they could not shed the burden of winter on their own. Spring was not spring without the spark of life, a gift only nature could provide. This was her show; she was its biggest star. Though the novel power of the Technical Revolution had reshaped the once rustic cities and towns of Equestria into hubs of modern industry, the wider world remained mostly unaltered. Nature still ruled supreme over the land; no number of roads or factories could ever overthrow her benevolent rule. And for the most part, the ponies knew it. They would play their parts in the Wrap-Up with the truest dedication, and once their duties were finished, simply step aside – faithfully waiting for nature herself to make her entrance.

And what an entrance it was!

From dawn to dark, today was alive. The birds sung with newfound vigour, the squirrels ran with a extra bounce in their step. The first crocuses opened their fresh petals of purple to flutter in the fresh, startlingly warm breeze, and the first bees buzzed lazily out to meet them, thoughts of sweet nectar filling their tiny minds. The sun was brighter; the ground was softer. Ponies everywhere revelled in the return of the season of life. Even the weary miners of the Everclear coal shaft west of town wore a dusty smile as they emerged from the black pit – no mortal toil could repress the joy of a day like today.

In an instant, the hard work of the Wrap-Up was rewarded. Nature was grateful: with all the energy of youth, she strove to return ponykind a million times what they had given her. After all, there was no way she could afford to leave their kindness unthanked in a world where industrial hooks clawed out her essence on a daily basis. She lit the sky with rainbows; the feathers of the pegasi practically glowed in prismatic light. The polluted streams ran clear with the water of the melting snows. Fish jumped higher, as if trying to touch the brilliant blue of the sky.

It was the kind of day you wish would last forever.

But even the most glorious premiere must end. With clockwork precision, the hours progressed. The glory of the day merged into twilight, and twilight gave way to dusk – that awkward dark that precedes the rising of the night, that rare time without both Sun and stars.

And soon enough, dusk gave way to let in the full glory of night.

* * *

Luna's moon hung low over the mountains, heavy and luminous with an aura of silver. Heavenly nightlight spilled out over the icy spires, igniting their glacial caps to a cold fire of white – a fire that quickly spread downward to the great towers and battlements of the royal city. Canterlot glowed in the clear night air, a distant candle silently burning with the power of the Princess of the Night.

But nopony bore witness to Luna's power: all the little ponies were sleeping now in the capital fortress. Their windows had gone dark hours ago, lights suppressed by the force of government curfew. Little trace of the hustle and bustle of the day remained. Only a few bits of litter marked the spots where crowded markets had been not long before. It was quiet. Even the fresh breeze of the day had faded to the faintest whisper, leaving an eerie calmness in its place.

Down in the valley far, far below, the silver light washed over the thatched roofs and chimneys of Ponyville. It painted the tall smokestacks of the now-idle factories and ran through the still-leafless trees, casting sharp shadows upon the ground. Here too, most ponies slept, their shop doors barred and bolted against an unknown foe. Not that any such enemy was in sight: the light of the full moon would keep even the most brazen burglar at bay. The very streets glowed in the dark, moonlight picking out tiny gemstones that hid in the brighter light of day, lost in a sea of dust and gravel. They glinted beautifully in the night.

The town was deserted, the night as silent as it was in Canterlot. The citizens slept to save their strength for the hard workday ahead. The animals slept too, tucked to peaceful rest by a gentle yellow pegasus with a soft touch and soothing voice. The road into town lay untravelled. Tonight, the welcome sign that stood before the Ponyville bridge proclaimed its message to nopony.

But not to no thing.

A shadow had appeared in the far distance – a formless splotch of black on the pale roadway. It flickered slowly, growing and shrinking in size. It passed through the shadows of the roadside trees and stones, melding in to each as it entered, only to be reborn seconds later on the opposite side. With each shadow it touched, it seemed to grow a little in size and shape.

Several minutes passed. The thing was much nearer now, and no longer formless. It was pony-shaped, more or less – strange lumps and bumps complicated the silhouette, making it difficult to be sure. Its gait was slow and unsteady; now and then it would stumble slightly.

Still the thing – traveller? – pressed onward towards Ponyville. Its shape grew clearer with each passing second, and the source of the flickering was now evident: tattered black robes flapped in the still air as it moved. They covered the traveller's body and head alike, seemingly several layers deep everywhere.

It was almost at the bridge. As it approached, the faintest of hoofbeats could be heard over the burbling of the river.

Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. . .

There was something odd about the way they sounded, dull and heavy instead of light and melodious like those of ordinary ponies. The hoofbeats weren't the only strange aspect of the traveller's appearance: the moonlight cast its shadow in sharp relief on the hard-packed ground, but somehow failed to illuminate it in any way. Whether it walked in light or shadow, the tattered robes sucked in every single drop of moonlight that fell upon them. It was almost like a hole in space – a hole with a shadow.

Clop. Clop. Clop. Tock.-

The steps stopped abruptly. The traveller had halted before the welcome sign. It stood stalk still, and blacker than the night itself. With no motion to stir the tattered robes, they fell limply to hang in statuesque folds. Very gradually, it tilted its head upward as if to read.

The ornately carved letters were clear enough in the moonlight, even though the paint was chipped and peeling.

Welcome to Ponyville, Population 1724.

Below the carved letters, two more lines had been painted on:

Main Gate Open 7 AM to 10 PM. No Admission After Curfew.

Griffins Must Carry Identification at All Times.

The traveller lowered its head, and turned to face Ponyville. It slowly scanned the horizon, presumably searching for the gate referred to by the sign.

It wan't hard to find. The Ponyville bridge was the gate. It had been radically modified to suit the position; the formerly rustic structure transformed into a glistening array of modern defensive equipment. Cobblestones had been replaced by tire spikes; on the sides, robotic entry turrets protruded from beneath coils of razorwire. Chain link panels barred the way across.

Hardly a welcoming sight. This traveller, however, appeared unfazed. It stood in the moonlight that could not illuminate it, staring forward at the fortification.

With a rustle of ragged robes, the traveller tentatively extended a foreleg.

...vvvvVVVV-click!

One by one, the sentry turrets flickered to life, or at least their crude mechanical parody of it. Glowing red lights emerged from the moon-darkened shadows as glass eyes turned to look upon the traveller. Above the bridge, a line of text appeared, also in red:

THE GATE IS CLOSED.

The traveller froze in place. Its head shifted first left, then right. Chain link and razorwire fencing backed the river in both directions, as far as the eye could see. No alternative entrance was available.

The robes rustled again. The traveller had moved, but not away. The soft thump of its steps echoed over the burbling of the river. The turrets whirred as they tracked the intruder.

THE GATE IS CLOSED. TURN BACK.

The traveller paid no heed to the warning, barely even lifting its head to read. The turrets clicked.

THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. TURN BACK.

With surprising agility, the traveller slipped past the tire spikes, and onto the bridge itself. A low hum rose from the turrets, quickly rising to a screaming crescendo. Their light was now upon the traveller, but they were as powerless to illuminate the dark robes as the moon had been.

INTRUDERS WILL BE SHOT.

The traveller was at the gate, the heavy locking mechanism held between its forelegs. The turrets began to flash a last message as the intruder pushed desperately at the gate – to no avail. The steel was solid, and bore enchantments of great power. Of course it would not yield! A shot rang out in the dark –

– And everything turned black.

* * *

The moon once again shadowed the traveller as it walked through the deserted streets of Ponyville. There was no sign of violence upon its robes, and it walked with the same determined, if uneven, cadence as before. Its head was held high, and it gazed upon the barred storefronts with an air of implacable confidence. It flicked its head from one window display to the next as it passed. No more than a cursory inspection was given to each. Evidently, its business was elsewhere in town.

Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Cl-Tock.- Clop. Clop. Clop. . .

The gate grew more distant with each leaden hoofbeat, a glimmering outline at the far end of the main street. Its lights were now dark, and the turrets slept inertly on each side. Strangely, it too was unharmed by the apparent confrontation. The chain link gate remained as sealed as the guards had left it this evening, and not a scorch mark from the energy blast was visible on the polished metal. Absolutely no evidence of recent events could be seen, either on or near the bridge. Was there even a record of the incident stored in its electronic mind?

Maybe there was. Maybe there wasn't. Either way, the traveller didn't seem concerned about the possibility. It had reached the town square, and was now approaching the pavilion in the centre that was the town hall. It was darker here; the hulking brick office buildings etched long black pits of shade upon the ground, and their deep brown faces reflected little light, especially when compared to the whitewashed homes that made up the majority of Ponyville's residences. No living thing was in sight; the traveller had vanished in the darkness, as if consumed by the imposing structures.

Clop. Clop. Clop. Tock.-

The heavy steps fell silent, and all was still. Somewhere off in the Everfree, a lonesome timberwolf howled.

Without the continued influx of sound, Ponyville became a tableau. Nothing moved, spoke or felt. The silence was everything, and everything was silent. The night grew tight with anticipation.

Then a floorboard creaked in the pavilion. The noise shattered the silence like a gunshot, bringing it crashing down with the tinkling of a million echoes. Another followed, then another – each one splintering the night as it fled the scene at a thousand kilometres an hour. It was the traveller.

It stepped from the umbra of the hall, a scroll clenched in its mouth. The traveller walked to the light side of the square, stopping a few paces in front of a small whitewashed shop that squeezed between the featureless offices. Tidy flower boxes engraved with leafy patterns hung from the shop's windows, showcasing crocuses and early tulips. It was the first place in town with unbarred windows that the traveller had passed, and also the first to receive more than a moments glance. A small mouth-painted sign on the door identified it as Roseluck's Flowers.

With a soft rustling of tattered fabric, the traveller lowered its head towards the ground and released its mouth-held cargo. The scroll hit the ground with a crinkle, unrolling almost immediately on its own accord. The bearer reached out a cloth-wrapped foreleg and pressed it smooth on the ground.

It was a poster. Judging from the holes in the corners, it had probably been torn from the community bulletin board.

DUTY. HEROISM. GLORY.

Bold white letters screamed for attention against a backdrop of wind-torn stormclouds.

On the left side, bolts of lightning arced out to sear high black mountains. Vast hordes of deformed beasts swarmed in the air and on the ground alike. Their gaunt forms were revealed in stark relief in the lightning: grimy creatures with lethal talons and cutting beaks, somehow carried through the air on wings so thin and mangy they were little more than blistered skin and bone. Ragged fur covered their lower bodies, stained in what was presumably the blood of their innocent victims. They were savages; certainly monsters, perhaps demons.

Or as they are more commonly known, griffins.

On the right side, a triad of mares clustered upon a small patch of fluorescent green grass, their expressions proud and defiant. A Pegasus, a Unicorn, and an Earth pony. Their polished armour shone in a spotlight of sun that cut through the sinister clouds, and their finely crafted weapons blazed with righteous fire.

They were the ponies, protected by the grace of the Goddesses themselves.

Below this lurid scene was a second, smaller line of text, also in white:

The Royal Equestrian Army needs you!

And below that, in garish red:

ENLIST NOW.

The traveller stared at it, as if calculating. A subtle shake of the head.

It wouldn't work. With the softest of sighs, the traveller released its hold. The poster sprung back into shape, its slightly curved surface rocking silently on the packed dirt.

Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. . .

The leaden hoofbeats resumed, and back into the shadows it went. The pavilion creaked again.

Before long, the traveller emerged. It carried another rolled-up poster, which it again deposited in front of Roseluck's Flowers. This one was newer; the paper stronger and ink brighter. Pumpkins and cartoon-y ghosts were in abundance, sharing the background with spooky-looking trees and tombstones. The foreground was occupied by none other than Luna herself, clad in sleek black armour. She gazed piercingly towards the viewer, a joyful smirk on her face. Underneath the picture was the caption:

PRINCESS LUNA RETURNS!

Ponyville's 1005th Nightmare Night will once again be graced by

the Princess of the Moon, maintaining her tradition of Royal visits

that has lasted for over a thousand years, dating back to before the time

when the Palace was moved from the Everfree forest to Canterlot.

Storytelling! Spookiness! Fun!

7-10 PM, Ponyville town square.

The traveller gave a small nod. It rolled the poster up and thrust it under the robes on its back, where it disappeared into darkness.

Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. . .

A glance at the tower clock. The night was wearing on; it was time for the traveller to complete its mission and leave this place, lest the light of day reveal its secrets.

Moving to a trot, it slipped into the narrow alley that ran between Flim Flam Industries, Inc. and TrixieCorp (“Great and Powerful Wastewater Disposal Solutions”). It emerged moments later on the other side, passing behind Sugarcube Corner on the way down the street.

Its destination was in sight: the Ponyville Library was only a few blocks away. As elegant as ever, the ancient treetop rose above the surrounding houses, its bare branches just starting to show the earliest flush of spring leaves.

ClopClopClopClop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. . .

The traveller slowed its pace as it drew closer, back to the same methodical walk that carried it into town. It clung to the shadows now, as if afraid of being seen. The heavy robes swished in rhythm with its steps.

The swishing stopped as the traveller halted in the shade of Vinyl Scratch and Octavia's house, just across from the library. It cast a quick glance around. Finding nopony in sight, it lifted a forehoof to its back. Out of the blackness where it had stowed the Luna poster came a book – a huge book, bound in black leather. Its embossed golden title caught a stray ray of moonlight:

Mechanica Caelestis.

Taking the book in its mouth, the traveller darted across the street. With an agile leap, it launched itself on to the low roof that overhung the library's kitchen.

Thump.

It was now on the second floor balcony, just below the lowest hanging branches of the living house. Golden letters flashed as the traveller set its burden down. It swiftly tucked the tome into a low cranny beneath the windowsill, then stepped back to inspect the placement. The traveller gave another quick look to each side, then a nod. It would not be visible from the street. It turned away, preparing to descend.

Just then, a soft sound like a whiff of wind blew over its ears. Somepony was stirring in the Library! A blaze of light appeared inside, shining out onto the balcony even through the drawn curtains.

The traveller had to flee. With only a second's hesitation, it jumped. Not down to the lower rooftop, but directly to the street below. It acred forward through the still air, barely clearing the railing in its hasty escape.

It landed on all four hooves, but stumbled. Its forelegs buckled, and its head dropped to the hard-packed dirt. Something crunched softly.

A moan escaped the traveller as it scrambled back to its hooves. No time for recovery, it had to move! It stumbled forward, tripping over the trailing ends of the robes as it broke into an erratic canter.

Down the street it fled, past the barred shops and quaint homes. Its shadow blurred into the distance as it swerved from side to side of the moonlit roadway like a fallen leaf borne on a nonexistent wind.

Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. clop. clop. clop. clop. clop.clop. clop. cl-tock. clop. clop. . .

The hoofbeats faded to nothing. The traveller was gone.

* * *

Minutes later, the window creaked open. Homey light flooded out through the parted curtains.

A purple-maned mare's head emerged from inside, eyes dull with lingering sleep. She blinked once, then again, trying to force her tired eyes into focus. With great effort, she spoke.

“Hello?”

A branch creaked overhead. Silence.

“Is somepony there?”

She stared out into the darkness as if expecting an answer. Foolish pony.

Nopony – or thing – was there to respond.

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day

Celestial Mechanics
Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day

It's a beautiful day
Sky falls, you feel like
It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away

- U2, 'Beautiful Day'

The Journal of Twilight Sparkle.
Volume #5, Entry #96.
Clovius 23rd, 1006 AB.
10:13 AM.

Last night was very late, and I find myself lying in bed this morning with a very large mug of coffee and a lingering feeling that I should still be asleep. I overslept my alarm by almost seventy-two minutes, but thanks to Spike, breakfast was already cooking when I woke. It smells delicious.

I feel a bit guilty about leaving him to attend to all the housework unassisted, but my studies have been too demanding of late for me to help. Fortunately, I was extremely productive yesterday and have cleared several items from my to-do list, meaning that both of us can look forward to a much lighter workload in the near future (see Twilight Sparkle's To-Do list, Volume #8 for a complete summary).

Perhaps I'll find some time to read some of the new novels we've gotten in for the library. It bothers me that we have works in our collection that I haven't personally sampled yet. Besides, I have to admit they looked rather intriguing. I also ought to go visit with my friends one of these days – it's been almost three weeks since I last had a night out with the girls.

First things first, I need to get out of bed and have breakfast. Spike's yelling something about my food getting cold. I guess the journalling can wait for later.

One last thing: shortly after falling asleep last night, I was woken by what sounded like an intruder on my bedroom balcony. I went out to investigate, but there was nopony there. Must have been the wind. . .

-TS.

I tossed the journal towards my bedside table, where it landed with a thump amongst a large collection of empty mugs and balled-up notepaper. Thump.

Sitting up in bed, I surveyed my room. Books and scrolls covered most of the floor, mingling with the dust bunnies and chip crumbs that had accumulated over the last few weeks. The walls were no better: charts and graphs practically wallpapered the entire room, sloppily annotated in red ink. My prized periodic table poster (a gift from my brother) could barely be seen from its position below a lengthy list of the residents of Ponyville sorted by mane colour. A pile of electronic parts crackled and sparked in the corner, singing the curtains. The smell of burning polyester mingled with the odour of rotting food and old books to provide a...unique sensory experience.

How could I let it get this bad?

I sighed, looking over at my dragon egg alarm clock. 10:19. Ugh. It was well past time for me to get up. Even if I had finished my bigger projects last night, there were still plenty of things to get done today.

Like cleaning my room. The thought made me cringe, but it was clearly a top priority.

I yawned as I stretched my forelegs over my head, shifting over in an effort to get more comfortable. Something sharp poked me in the plot.

“Ow!” I jerked away from the unexpected pain, almost spilling my coffee. Reaching under the covers with my magic, I caught hold of the object and brought it out for a closer inspection.

Sigma-Eldrich '02-'03 catalogue. “Handbook of fine alchemical ingredients”

To the bedside table for it too. Thump.

That felt better. I sipped my coffee and settled back into my nest of pillows, closing my eyes. The down pillows were so soft and cozy. . .

It wouldn't hurt to stay in bed for another five minutes, would it?

“Twi-iilight!” Spike shouted from somewhere below me. “If you aren't down here in ten seconds, you don't get any breakfast! I mean it!”

My eyes snapped open. “Okay, okay! I'm coming!”

* * *

I was putting away the last of the dishes when the doorbell rang.

Leaving the bundle of cutlery on the table, I trotted over to the foyer and flipped the wall-mounted lever that controlled the security forcefield that spanned the library doorframe. The control panel beeped, and the crystal display flashed the usual message in letters of glowing green:

DNA Match 99.997% >> Twilight Sparkle
Access Granted

With a hiss of dissipating magic, the thin pink membrane evaporated, revealing the ordinary wooden door outside. I had to admit, it looked a lot better without the shield, even to a technophile like myself. The sterile steel and bright lights just didn't match with the rustic design of the rest of the house.

It works. That's all that matters, I reminded myself as I opened the door. A familiar pink and yellow pegasus stood outside.

Fluttershy.

“Oh! H-hi Twilight.” She sounded surprised to see me, for some reason. “Does this mean you've finished that important project you were working on for Princess Luna?”

“Mhmm,” I nodded. “I concluded it last night.”

She smiled. “That's nice.”

“So, what brings you to the library today?” I asked. “Would you like to borrow a book?”

“Um, no. I came to ask you if you wanted to come for a picnic with me and the other girls.” She twirled a lock of pink hair around her hoof. “-If you aren't too busy, of course.”

A picnic? The idea was tantalizing. The question was whether I could afford to take the time off to recreate; my room wasn't going to clean itself, and who knew when I might get another day off to deal with it.

I levitated my To-Do list over from the kitchen, and glanced at its contents. It was far fuller than I remembered. Twenty-seven different tasks required completion today, twenty-eight if I counted an hour of General Literature Study (novel reading). Calculations would be required to maximize recreational opportunity.

My quill scratched over the sheet, quickly sorting activities into groups. Daylight should last until about 7:15 PM. . . I summed the total time required for all activities, then started to subtract one at a time as I slotted them into the timetable. Allowing for travel time (assuming good weather). . . Hmm, perhaps putting the basement cleaning after the book reshelving would help. Factoring in bowel movements (assuming adequate fibre intake). . .

Hey, I overlook nothing.

“Twilight?” Fluttershy asked, a look of concern in her eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Wha-?” I started back to attention. “Yeah, it's fine. . .I think.” I quickly finished the calculations, and backed off to examine the results.

Crap.

I was a solid hour short, probably more. And that was if I cut the novel-reading. How would I break it to her?

“Um,” Now I was starting to sound like Fluttershy. “I don't think I have enough time for a picnic. Why don't you guys just go without me? We can hang out later or something, maybe go out for coffee or- or. . .” I trailed off as I looked up.

The cutest, most pathetic puppy dog eyes in Equestria stared back at me. Her great green orbs snagged my purple ones, and held them tight in a slightly moist grip of death. I became rooted to the spot, paralyzed by cuteness as The Stare invaded my very soul. Ack!

How was I supposed to deal with this? My schedule can't repel cuteness of that magnitude!

“I-I have work to do! I can't! Lots of work!” I stammered, unable to escape the power of Fluttershy's gaze. My legs were beginning to shake.

“That's okay, I don't mind. . .” She trailed off, her voice cracking slightly. Long-lashed eyelids blinked away a lonesome tear.

“N-n – Aaugh!!” I fell to my knees. “Yes! I'll come! Please, I want to go! I'd love to go!” I blubbered as I slid down the doorstep. “Just stop looking at me like th-!”

BOING!!

A shockingly loud bouncing sound cracked (sprung?) through the air. Now it was Fluttershy's turn to scream and fall. A large piece of pink mane had exploded out of my mailbox, bursting through the little door at the front, and seeping through the small crannies at the back.

BOING!!

Another bounce, and Pinkie Pie stood before me.

“P-pinkie? What in Equestria were you doing in my mailbox?!” I struggled back to my hooves, as Fluttershy did the same. “How in Equestria did you get in my mailbox?”

The earth pony merely smiled, wagging her hoof at me. “Now now, that's Auntie Pinkie's little secret.” She noded sagely. “And it wouldn't be a secret if I explained it, would it?”

Whatever. “Were you watching us the whole time?” I asked, a little disturbed by the idea.

“Yup!” She waved a hoof in my general direction. “And so was everypony else!” She bounced to face one of the bushes near the door. “ You can come out now, guys!”

Three heads popped out of the shrubbery. Two wore hats: an old Stetson and some frilly thing with flowers and wax fruit. The third head was bare, but the uniquely spiked rainbow mane left little doubt as to the identity of its owner.

“Applejack! Rarity! Rainbow Dash! You were all hiding here this whole time?!” I shouted at them. “Why?”

Rarity was the first to come up with an answer. “Why not, darling? It's just for fun.” She blew a leaf from her nose as she stepped dantily from the bush.

I was confused now. “You, of all ponies, thought it'd be fun to hide in the shrubbery? I can see Rainbow wanting to, but you? Why send Fluttershy to the door alone?”

Suddenly, it all clicked. “You sent Fluttershy because you knew she could guilt me into coming, right? You knew I'd try to refuse the picnic.”

“Yup.”

“Yeah.”

“M-hmmm!”

“Yes, darling.”

“Eeep!” Fluttershy covered her head with her hooves in embarrassment. “I'm s-sorry!”

I stared as coldly as I could at the five of them. “Well, it's not going to work! I'll go for the picnic because I promised I would, but as soon as it's done I'm gonna go back inside to study and clean stuff on my own. All. Night. Long.”

Awkward silence ensued.

“Er-” Applejack cleared her throat loudly. “Listen, Twi, you don't have to come if you really don't want to.” Rarity and Rainbow Dash looked at her, then back at me, nodding their heads in somber agreement. Fluttershy said nothing, still cowered in a tiny ball by the doorstep.

Another awkward silence. My checklist crinkled loudly as I stared at my hooves.

“Hey!” exclaimed Pinkie. “I have an idea – we'll ALL help you! It'll be a Pinkie Pie library cleaning party!”

“Aw shucks, why not?” Applejack said. “It'll be like when y'all helped me with the apple harvest that year Mac was laid up with them broken ribs!”

Rainbow Dash readily agreed. “Yeah, that sounds like an awesome idea!”

The other two nodded their agreement. Fluttershy was back standing, her eyes as bright as if nothing had happened.

“Well, Twilight, what'cha say?” Applejack reached out a hoof to me. “Deal?”

My eyes wandered over the expectant smiles of all my friends. Slowly but surely, my expression morphed to match theirs.

Throwing the checklist aside, I took Applejack's hoof in mine. “. . .Deal.”

“YAAAAAY!!!”

* * *

The Journal of Twilight Sparkle.
Volume #5, Entry #97.
Clovius 23rd, 1003 AB.
7:35 PM.

What a great day! I don't think I've had that much fun in. . .I don't know how long. My friends all pitched in together to get my work done this morning, then the six of us went down to the Saddle River for a picnic and some polo. Applejack and Pinkie joined forces to prepare a delicious feast, and Fluttershy found the most heavenly little meadow tucked deep in the Ghastly Gorge. It was impressively private; we didn't see another soul the entire time. On top of that, the weather was spectacular. Not a cloud in the sky (and Rainbow took it upon herself to make sure it stayed that way). I honestly can't believe how nice it was – last time I stepped outside there was still snow on the ground. Of course, AJ was quick to point out that there hasn't been any for a few weeks now.

I really need to get out more.

Anyways, it was great to hang out with my friends and relax after the hectic pace of the last fifteen days. That report on leyline mining for Princess Luna took up an unbelievable amount of my time. I don't get why she was so insistent it be done so quickly - it's a very poorly developed technology, and for that matter, mostly theoretical. While the prospect of extracting magical energy directly from the environment without a spellcasting device or a unicorn involved is truly exciting, the number of practical problems involved means nopony will be able to put it to use anytime soon. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt.

At least it's done now, and I can now enjoy my hard-earned (and generously given) free time. I think I'll go sit outside and read one of my new novels in the twilight.

-TS.

The balcony's double doors swung open, wrapped in the magenta hue of my telekinetic grasp as I stepped out into the evening. My journal and the new book floated securely over my back, and behind them hung a comfortable beanbag chair and a blanket – all kept weightless by the force of my magic.

I eased the doors closed, and set the items down one by one upon the polished wood decking. A slight breeze ruffled my mane, and I noted with pleasure that the air was still gloriously warm even though the sun was all but gone. I looked to the west where the last rays of daylight burned through the horizon, colouring the sky in vivid hues of orange and red. Not a cloud was visible anywhere. Only a few streams of smoke from the factories lingered to mar the heavens, and on an evening as incredible as this one, even they could be overlooked.

Rainbow's crew really outdid themselves today, I thought as I nestled into the comfy chair. It's beautiful out here, absolutely beautiful.

If only I took more time to appreciate it. Too often my studies caused me to lose track of the things that really mattered, things like friends and the beauty of the world we live in. Time and time again, I become lost in the minutiae of scientific observation, and completely miss the larger reality of the systems I am studying, the sheer beauty of the everyday phenomena that surround us.

See? There I go again, classifying, analyzing. Systems. Phenomena. That's the language of science – the language of detachment. I have no lack of detachment. My mind is innately clinical, scientific, distant. Unlike ponies like Fluttershy or Pinkie Pie who are in touch with their feelings, I always have to take care to let in the wonder of life.

I hadn't been doing that lately. My life was spent cooped up in the library, studying and writing mere symbols of reality: the equations of mathematics, the syllables of names. The irony of not going outside for a week while writing a report on cloud formation (as I did this week) was not lost on me, it just sometimes took far too long for me to come to my senses and pay attention to it.

I looked upwards, noting how the red light of the setting sun made the already vibrant greens of the emerging leaves seem even richer. Their colour was almost fluorescent – almost artificial – but with an organic quality that even the best dyes could not match.

Looking down, I read the title of the novel Spike had selected for me.

The Spires of Canterlot

The jacket featured an impressionistic painting of two mares in fancy dresses looking out over Canterlot from a building I assume was intended to be the Tower of The Moon. It was hard to be sure. The whole design was completely wrong – from the railing (too many fancy spindles, not enough smooth stone) – to the floor (late Silkhorn period octagonal floor tiles clashed sharply with with the narrow wedges of Neo-Geometric columns. Evidently the artist had never seen the real thing.

Well, it wasn't winning any points for accurate illustrations, but I'm not one to judge a book by its cover. I wondered who wrote it. Perhaps I was familiar with their other works.

by Love Droplet.

Love Droplet?? I was getting concerned. With a name like that, the chances of quality literature plummeted sharply. The best I could hope for was sappy romance; the worst, well. . .

I'd have to try it to find out. Silently dreading what might be inside, I flipped to the twenty-first page.

. . .”Is this what you want?” Rosebud whispered in her lover's ear as she rubbed the jewelled staff in circles against the sensitive fur of her underbelly.

“Yes, give it to me! Please!”

“What did you say?”

The younger pony squirmed with anticipation of a release that was far too long in coming. She looked up, her eyes round and pleading. “Please, Captain Rose. I need it.”

Rosebud only smirked, revelling in the sight of her tormented lover. She wanted it to last forever, but the heat in her own body was now too great to wait any longer.

“You've been a bad princess.” She scolded, her voice low and husky with desire. “You don't deserve this, but since you asked so nicely. . .”

With a deft movement, she thrust the staff forward and down. The younger mare gasped as the thick shaft entered her throbbing m-

I slammed the book shut.

Yup, full-on literary porn. I really hoped Spike hadn't actually read it before choosing it for me.

With a sigh, I set it aside. I wanted quality literature right now, something that would make me think. Something deep and thoughtful, something that had substance but was entertaining at the same time. Not some smutty “romance”.

Sure you don't, not now. But later, when you're alone in bed tonight – just you, the book and your right hoof. . . said a voice from some deep corner of my mind.

I blushed, and pushed the book further away. Stupid sexual urges. I wouldn't entertain them. There was so much else for me to do without having to worry about satisfying some instinctual drive to reproduce. It didn't even make sense.

You're attracted to mares, Twilight. Of course it doesn't make sense. It doesn't have to.

Dammit. Why can't my subconscious stay quietly repressed?

I looked away from the book, inspecting the balcony to distract myself. The railing could use repainting, probably this summer would be about right. I made a mental note to add it to my long-term checklist when I got back inside. I should prune some of the lower tree branches as well – as pretty as they were now with their bright green buds, they'd be blocking my view by the end of the year.

Turning around, I started to inspect the house side. The living tree eliminated the need for large-scale painting, but there was always room for little touch-ups here and there. For the most part, I was good about maintenance and cleaning. The problem was that I could become so absorbed by larger priorities like studying or research that everything else would be completely neglected until I was finished.

My bedroom being a prime example.

I shuddered as I recalled the horror of me and Rarity finding fortnight-old coffee sludge mixed with orange peels. Who knew food could be that scary? My eyes swept down to the base of the wall.

Just then, something caught my eye. There was a book shoved underneath the windowsill – a really, really big book. What was it doing there?

I grasped in my magic, gently easing it away from the floor. It was thick, black and ugly, the binding torn and cracked – whether by age or poor care I could not tell. On top of that, it was even heavier than it looked. Without magic, I would have had trouble lifting it.

Probably enchanted.

As I turned it over in the air, I noticed the distinctive texture of the heavy binding leather.

Dragon hide. So, it was most likely very old, and not just mistreated. Spike won't be pleased to see this. . .

More importantly, how did it get here?

Surely I wouldn't have forgotten a book outside – I may be forgetful and sometimes messy, but leaving an ancient text exposed to the weather is something I would never do. Not to mention the fact I couldn't recall having seen it before.

Maybe Spike brought it out here for some reason. . . And forgot about it? Not likely, especially given the binding material. But how else. . ?

Last night – that noise I heard! Somepony abandoning a very old and extremely heavy book on a second-floor balcony in the middle of the night, during government enforced curfew hours?

. . .Probably not. But what other option was there? I inspected the cover for signs of rain, but there were none. It hadn't been here for long.

My mind drawing a blank, I searched the cover for a title. Nothing. Author name? Nothing. Huh?

. . .Oops, wrong side. I flushed with embarrassment as I flipped the heavy text to reveal the actual front cover.

Two words, glittered back at me from the black expanse, embossed in large gold lettering.

Mechanica Caelestis

Chapter 2: The Scientist

Celestial Mechanics
Chapter 2: The Scientist

I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science; science and progress

-Coldplay, 'The Scientist'

Mechanica Caelestis. . . Celestial Mechanics?

I stared at the reflective letters, puzzled. The language was Latian High Ponese, an all but extinct tongue that I was only familiar with due to its use in certain advanced magical textbooks. That much was clear. What I didn't understand was exactly what the title meant.

Celestial Mechanics? The study of Empress Celestia's, um, mechanics? As in the subfield of physics, or as in ponies who repair machinery? I knew she had a few chariot repairponies on staff at the castle, but I seriously doubted that they needed a book written about them.

Maybe some homoerotic fiction? Sexy working mares getting it on after a hard day in the shop, hot sweat running down their toned flanks as they. . .Mmmm. You know you want it, Twilight.

I shook my head in an effort to dispel the vision. Nope. NOT going there.

Was there a different meaning of celestial that I was overlooking? Not that I could think of. The adjective was exclusive to things relating to the Supreme Ruler, and had no other purpose.

Perhaps the answer was inside. My horn glowed brighter, and the leather binding creaked mournfully as I flipped to the first page.

The paper inside was faded to a dark yellow, almost brown. Its condition was despicable: smears of ink covered the ripped margin, matching with the creased pages and stains of what looked like coffee. There were dog ears aplenty – heck, the first page had one on both the top and bottom corners. The only thing keeping the volume from falling apart was the uncommonly fine stitching of the binding.

It was disgusting – a terrible example of the horrors of book abuse. There was singeing along the bottom, actual burn marks! Whoever did this deserved some serious library fines.

Sighing, I redirected my attention to the contents of the page. Underneath the title, a lengthy block of text was typed in a small but ornate blackletter font, two columns on the sheet. A small illustration of the sun and moon appeared at the bottom, largely obscured by a blot of ink.

Picking the first line on the page, I began to read. My Latian was a little rusty, but it didn't take long to sort it out.

<.This text is dedicated to all ponies who dedicate themselves to the high art of astronomia, both amateur and

professional. It is for you that I write, to give you this precious knowledge that I, and so many others have worked so

long to acquire. Without you to read them, these words of mine would be nothing. Only through your understanding do

they gain substance, only through your interpretation do they gain scale, and only through your actions can they hope

to gain greatness. Use them well. -SS >

So it was a textbook, or some other kind of scholarly writing. However, there was one little problem:

What in Tartarus is 'astronomia'? Does it have something to do with Empress Celestia?

I needed to speak to Spike.

I swept my assorted belongings up in a swirl of purple energy. The relaxing sunset reading time could wait until later. Right now, I had a textbook to understand!

Wasting no time, I yanked the doors open, and stuffed everything back into the house.

B-bump-Thump! The beanbag chair bounced to a landing in the far corner of my bedroom, the rest of my belongings following quickly thereafter. I'd put them away later.

Yeah, right. . .

Really, I would – as soon as I finished with the book. Now, where was that dragon?

I cast a glance around the library. The large central room was neat and tidy, thanks to the hard work of my friends this morning. The bookshelves were dusted, their contents carefully sorted according to proper classification. All three floors looked good: The main floor, with the heavy wooden reading table in the middle unusually clear, and the kitchen and main bathroom (which I couldn't quite see from my position) freshly washed; the second floor, with our bedroom and the ensuite bathroom both free of decaying food; and the third floor, with the study loft and my meteorological experiments uncommonly devoid of cobwebs.

Spike was nowhere to be seen, but I noticed was a bit dark in here; the setting sun too low to provide sufficient natural lighting. Time to turn on the gas.

I trotted up the narrow staircase to the third floor. The room was only a meter or so across at this point, barely enough space for the winding staircase to fit alongside the large crystal chandelier. A trapdoor, now closed, provided access to the upper study loft and balcony which lay outside of the actual tree trunk.

I reached behind the chandelier, feeling for the gas shutoff valve. Found it.

The gas hissed to the fixture to meet a spark of light from my horn. Pfoof!

The flame caught, and bright light flooded the room. Ah, much better. I could turn on the rest of the lights later, but this would more than suffice for now.

I trotted down the stairs to the second floor. “Spike?”

No reply.

“Spike, are you here?” Maybe he was in the basement.

I was about to head down when I remembered the Ybox 2π. Of course, Spike was probably cooped up in the study with his new video game console, 'pwning n00bs', or whatever ponies do on those things. He probably couldn't hear me calling him through the headphones.

Honestly, I didn't understand the appeal. Maybe I'm just too old-fashioned; a book pony through and through. Or maybe it's the fact that that I never grew up with them, considering that they've only existed for the last five years or so. Or maybe. . .well, what did it matter? I had more important problems than my dislike of digital recreation on my hooves.

Back up the stairs I went. Clop. Clop. Clop. I snagged the book from my bed on the way, dragging it behind me in a purple coil of magical energy.

The trapdoor creaked open. I poked my head up to take a look around.

Yup, there he was.

Spike sat on the rug in the middle of the study, furiously working the game controller he held in his hands. Large headphones covered his ears, and his attention was fixed on the central bookshelf-cum-TV stand, which contained his precious 26'' HD LCD monitor. It was given to him by Empress Celestia for his birthday, to go along with the console from Princess Luna.

Lucky kid. The Supreme Ruler didn't buy me ANYTHING when I was a filly. To be honest, I was a little bit envious. Not a lot, mind you – just a little.

I hopped up the short section of ladder, alighting on the rug behind him. He didn't respond, evidently engrossed in his game. I spied the case lying on the floor not far away:

Call of Cutie: Modern Warmare 4.

A grimy looking mare in armoured barding stared back at me, a sparking energy lance held tightly in her hooves, a large steel helmet covering most of her closely shorn mane. The background was dreary; a fog of smoke spread over a field of shattered rocks. In front of the mare, lay a few long brown feathers, bloody as if ripped from the wounded flesh of a living victim.

I didn't need a degree in arial morphology to guess what species they came from. Poor griffin.

Stepping forward, I delicately kicked the case aside.

“Spike?” Still no response.

“Hey, Spike?” I poked him with my hoof.

“GAH!” He jumped and whirled around to face me, losing his grip on the controller in the process. He fumbled backwards to to try and save it, but slipped on the game case I had moved only seconds before. Trip.

Thump. He landed flat on his butt, facing me. As soon as he saw who it was who had so rudely interrupted his recreation, his expression of shock quickly changed to one of annoyance. “Ack, Twilight! You startled me!”

I shuffled my hooves apologetically. “Sorry.” He just glared at me with half-lidded eyes, saying nothing as he reached to pause the game.

“It's hard to get your attention when you're wearing those,” I said, gesturing at the enormously padded headphones.

“Yeah, fair enough,” he said as he took them off and set them on the bookshelf. His expression softened. “Just try not to do that again. You almost gave me a heart attack!”

I giggled. “Aw, but it's so cute when you're scared!”

The glare was back, now accompanied by crossed arms.

I decided against telling him he also looked cute when annoyed. Though he had grown a lot in height (he was almost as tall as me now) and physique (his naturally powerful dragon musculature was starting to show) in the last couple years, he was still my little 'Spiky-wiky', and I doubted that would change anytime soon.

“Okay, okay; I'm sorry.” I said, holding my hooves over my head in surrender. “I solemnly swear never to insult your awe-inspiring masculinity again.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Heh, it's okay.” He moved over to lean on one arm against the shelf. “So, why are you up here? I thought you'd be busy reading.”

About that. . .

“Hey, did you actually read that book before picking it for me?”

He gave me an odd look. “Not really, but I thought you would enjoy it.”

I sighed with relief. Whew.

“Was it okay?” he asked. “I'm not in to fillyfooler stuff, but Rarity recommended it 'cuz, well, we both know you. . .”

My jaw went slack. “I- I-” I stammered. “You- You WHAT?!”

He grimaced. “You didn't like it?”

“No! Yes, I mean!” I pulled him closer. “That's not the point! You aren't old enough to read stuff like that! And giving it to me because- because. . .” Because of what? I was honestly confused.

He wiggled away from my grip. “Rarity figures you really need to get laid, but since we all know that's not going to happen, this was the next best thing. . .”

Ouch, buuuurn!

I flushed crimson at the thought of her and my assistant involving herself in my personal affairs (or lack thereof). Why were they even thinking about this? Since when was my Spiky-wiky discussing my love life with his crush? Clearly, a change of subject was required before this conversation got even more awkward. Time to bring out Mechanica Caelestis.

“Nevermind Rarity, this is why I came up here.” My magic surged purple as the massive book soared across the room.

“Whoa, watch it!” Spike said as he ducked out of the way, an arm shielding his face. A fair precaution, but obviously unnecessary given my skill in telekinetic magic.

I grabbed a bookrack from the corner, and dropped the text into position. I could hear the wood creaking and groaning under the weight, even though it was built of thick beams of solid oak. Damn, that was some heavy reading.

Spike stared at me in bafflement. “It's a book.”

Wow, nice observational skills.

“Yes, yes it is. Have you seen it before?” I asked.

He stepped forward and examined the cover, his face scrunched up in concentration. “No. . .I don't think so. . .”

“Never?”

“Never-” He paused, his claw floating a few inches above the book. “How old is this thing?”

“I don't know.” I admitted. “Found it outside on the bedroom balcony when I was reading, under the windowsill. No clue how it got there.”

“Huh.” He looked up towards me. “Well, I'm not touching it. See the cover?”

I decided to feign ignorance. “Yeah?”

“Dragon skin, Twilight. DRAGON skin. It's disgusting!”

I was worried about this.

“Ponies used to do some horrible things, Spike.” I said. “Just. . .try not to think about it. Besides, the dragon probably died of natural causes.”

I bit my lip. It was a lie; not a big one, but a lie nonetheless. It was true that a percentage of dragon products were indeed derived from scavenged corpses, however, dragon hunts were by far the most common source in the past. Thank Celestia that the practice was abolished over two hundred years ago. Dragons were still occasionally killed when they threatened populated areas, but only if there was no other alternative and they refused to yield to reason.

– Or so they claim.

I remember an incident only a few years back when a dragon moved into a cave above Ponyville, producing a massive cloud of smoke that threatened to shroud all of Equestria in darkness for a hundred years. Needless to say, Empress Celestia ordered a meeting of top scholars and military leaders to find a resolution and implement it quickly before serious harm could be done. Various proposals were made; mine was only chosen because I was the Princess's personal student. Interestingly, it was the only one that actually involved talking to the dragon.

It was also the only one that didn't end with the him being reduced to meat pudding.

Luckily for everyone, my plan worked. Thank Celestia for Fluttershy's freaky interspecies social skills – and for the Royal Equestrian Air Command's last minute decision to conserve heat-seeking missiles.

“Whatever you say, Twilight.” Spike's voice pulled me from my dark thoughts. “I bet you'd love it if I handed you a book bound in pony leather.”

“Well. . .” I considered the idea. “I don't think I'd mind, if the pony wasn't killed to make it. Personally, I'd be honoured if my remains were used to enclose a work of fine literature.”

Spike facepalmed. “Ugh, nevermind.”

“What?”

He cracked a half-amused smile. “It figures – first Fluttershy wants to be a tree, and now you want to be a book?” He looked back at the book. “What's it about?”

“I- I'm not sure.” I admitted.

“What? How can you not know that?” Spike asked, incredulous.

“It's written in Latian.”

“. . .And?” He put a hand on his hip. “You read Latian magic books all the time. What's so different about this one?”

“I don't know!”

“You don't know.”

I shifted my eyes to avoid his flat stare. Wow, look at that bookshelf. So neat and organized. . . thank you Fluttershy.

“Look, I haven't had time to properly explore it yet – heck, it's only been ten minutes since I found it!” My eyes drifted over the linguistic reference section. “Hey, have you seen the Latian dictionary?”

He shrugged. “Nope. It should be right here, shouldn't it?”

“Yes, it should. . .” I looked up one shelf, towards the scientific and technical section. “Where did it- Aha!” The aged tome stuck out sorely amongst the far brighter and newer scientific references, which were mostly published in the fifteen years that had elapsed since the Technical Revolution. I guessed Fluttershy put it up there by mistake.

I pulled it down and opened to “A”. Astronomia had to be in here somewhere.

“What're you looking for?” asked Spike, moving to peer over my shoulder.

“Astronomia.” I answered, running my hoof down the broad pages. “Astronomia. . .astronomia. . .” Huh? In the spot where the word's meaning should have been elucidated, there was nothing, not even a cross-reference!

Aargh! This was supposed to be an unabridged, complete dictionary – so where was this word? Frustrated, I flipped to “C”. Maybe there would be more information on celestial, some obscure definition that would speed my understanding.

There it was. I began to read – “#1. . .Pertaining to or belonging to the Supreme Ruler, Empress Celestia. . .” Nope, already know that. What about #2? No entry.

Hmm, Spike was saying something. I heaved the dictionary closed, and redirected my attention to listen. “-omia? Like, astronomy?”

What was he talking about? “What's astronomy?” I asked.

He looked at me with an expression of disbelief. “You don't know?”

I shook my head.

“Seriously, I thought you'd know something like that,” he said. “I read about it in one of your old law books while I was looking up regulations on necromancy for Luna's Frankenpony project. It's an ancient form of evil sorcery that was banned over a thousand years ago by Celestia. It said that all written knowledge of the subject was destroyed in the Great Library Fires of 7 AB.” He poked a thumb at the book. “I guess one book survived.”

I paled. “You- You're saying that somepony abandoned an illegal book of dark magic on my balcony? A book that is over a thousand years old and shouldn't even exist?”

He nodded. “Yup.”

Man, this was getting weirder and weirder. If the book was indeed illegal, I should turn it in to the Empress immediately. On the other hoof, I couldn't shake the feeling sompony had gone through a lot of trouble in order to deliver it to me. The least I could do was to give it a quick read. Surely no harm could come from that?

Haven't you heard of a cursed book? Well, okay. Maybe reading it wasn't the best idea – at least, not until I had a better idea of what was inside. Perhaps my questions could be answered without actually opening it again? Reading it might risk exposure to dark magic, but researching it was undoubtably safe.

I made up my mind.

“I need to see this law book. NOW.” I picked up Mechanica Caelestis. “Spike, file this in the 'Restricted' – nah, the 'Illegal' section.”

“Uh, Twilight,” he said, leaning up against the bookshelf, “We don't have an 'Illegal' section.”

“Then make one! We'll worry about proper cataloging later.” I struck a dramatic pose. “Right now, we have research to do!”

* * *

Tick.

The soft ticking of the clock echoed through the otherwise silent library. The hour was late; long past curfew. No noise entered from the street.

Tick.

A small mountain of books lay heaped on the central reading table, spilling onto the floor that had been so tidy mere hours before. Scrolls and broken quills littered the places not covered in books, and bits and pieces of half-eaten Apple cookies rested atop them. A young dragon slept silently under the table, curled in a couple of blankets generally designated for daytime reading comfort.

A little closer to the wall was another clump of blankets and pillows. Here, however, the sole occupant was awake. Though her purple tail dangled limply from the warm nest, her head rose resolute above the fabric and paper, a last bastion of conscious resistance against the overwhelming desire for sleep.

Make that semiconscious.

I blinked tiredly as I leafed through the text – yet another historical compilation. I inclined my head upward to look at the clock. 2:37. So late already. Sigh.

My research had yielded some answers, but far too many questions remained unresolved. I now knew that 'astronomia' was the Latian word for the banned subject of astromomy, and that celestial referred not only to the Empress, but also to entities of the sky such as the sun and moon. It made sense, I supposed. The Empress controlled the sky, so it was only fitting that it would share adjectives with her Holiness.

What I didn't know, however, was far more important. No matter how many arcane books I combed through, I could not find a single description of astronomy actually was. Some of the older ones made mention of the subject, though only in the briefest of whispers, hidden deep in dry paragraphs amongst horrors unspeakable. It was taboo in a way I had never seen before; even forbidden dark magic like necromancy and wards of torture was occasionally discussed, despite the illegality of actually casting the spells. If one dug deep enough, whole books on these evil arts could be found.

Normally, they were difficult to find, but as Celestia's personal student I had easy access to such restricted material. If I so desired, I could be casting magic capable of brutally murdering thousands. All it would take was a visit to the Canterlot Archives – a few forms filled out here, a few questions asked there – and the darkest of spellbooks could be mine.

But this...nothing. All I had was Mechanica Caelestis, and I was more reluctant to delve into its pages than ever before. From the title I could surmise that it conveyed dark spells to manipulate or control the objects of the sky, but there was no way to know without reading it for myself.

What to do about it? I had no idea at the moment. It was hard enough keeping my eyes focussed, let alone thinking.

Tick.

Tick. The clock continued to tap out the seconds in metronomic fashion. Why was I still awake?

Nightmare Moon came to mind. The stories of how Luna's evil alter-ego had stopped the motion of the sun and moon to bring eternal night to the land of Equestria fit uncannily well with the time when astronomy was banned. Details of what exactly happened during those dark days were notoriously few and far between. All I knew was:

1). Princess Luna turned evil, or became possessed to become Nightmare Moon. How, I did not know. The stories said that it was because of her jealousy of Princess Celestia and her resentment of ponies for ignoring her precious night, but somehow this justification felt...incomplete. Luna has been the very essence of cold logic for as long as I have known her. Imagining that she could be driven to madness by such a trivial motivation as jealousy was difficult.

2). Nightmare Moon and Celestia battled, and the sun princess triumphed. With the aid of the Elements of Harmony, she was able to strip the Nightmare from her sister, restoring her to the Princess Luna we all know and respect. I once read that Celestia was nearly forced to banish Nightmare Moon from Equestria instead of curing her. The idea was ridiculous. Where in the world was there a place she could not simply escape with a quick teleportation spell?

3). Celestia crowned herself as the Supreme Ruler of Equestria. After the betrayal of that first Nightmare Night, there was no way they could continue to share power as equals. Luna would remain as the Princess of the Night, but Celestia would take the throne alone as the primary ruler of Equestria. And so it has remained to this day.

It wasn't much to work with. If it was through the techniques of astronomy that Nightmare Moon had overruled the power of Celestia herself, I could understand why it would be so illegal to mention. I wished I knew more about the events of those fateful days, but books held little more than repeated rumours of those days long past. The best way to find out would be to ask the Goddesses themselves, but attempting to bring up the subject with either Alicorn was...unwise.

I shuddered as I recalled that awful night in the Palace dungeon, all alone in the dark and cold. It wasn't the first (or the last) time Celestia punished my foalish insolence with “Dungeon Time,” but it was the only time that she left me overnight in the dank cell.

Ah, memories.

I looked back to the history book I held in my hooves. I had covered the bulk of the last thousand years in search of any mentions of astronomy, with little success. I was now at the beginning of the Technical Revolution. Only fifteen years left to cover before I could go to bed. I skimmed the page about the discovery of subatomic particles, only glancing at the sections on integrated circuits and spark batteries. While it was always enjoyable to reminisce about how far pony civilization had come in so few years, I knew these chapters so well that reading properly would be a waste of my time. The gist was simple: twenty years ago, a bored Princess Luna decided to take up the study of science; we ponies reaped the benefits. How she discovered so much in so little time, I had no idea. To say she was brilliant would be a gross understatement.

I yawned and flipped forward to the next chapter, my eyes losing their focus on the page.

Tick.

Tick. I really needed to get to bed.

Tick.

There was no chance of finding anything at this point. I was only reading for the sake of completing the book. I had passed the Magic Wars of 720-731 AB with no mention of astronomy; they were by far my best hope for a mention of magical evils, but turned out to be fruitless. The recent Griffin wars of 1004-1005 AB were fought primarily with modern technology and spells, making any mention of forbidden ancient techniques very unlikely. Besides, the rapidity with which the Griffins were defeated made powerful magic largely unnecessary. It was a one-sided war in every sense: in every category from technology (Their muskets and wing blades were so inferior to our energy lances and autocannons it was laughable), to population (twenty million ponies against a few hundred thousand griffins) we held a massive advantage. Every battle was won by Equestrian Imperial forces; not a single victory could be claimed by the Griffins.

Really, I couldn't fathom why they started the war. How did they possibly expect to win? Was it that profound national pride I had heard so much about? Was it lust for the technology and magical power that we possessed?

Was it merely blind hatred of all things equine?

I'd have to ask Rainbow Dash one day. She was the only pony I knew who actually saw the field of battle – and as a member of the Wonderbolts no less. She might have some profound insights to offer.

My eyes wandered to check the time. 2:50.

Tick.

Bleh, who am I kidding? Rainbow would probably go on without end about how awesome it (read: she) was, and all the fancy war medals she had won. Attempting to engage her in 'egghead' discussions on politics and culture was bound to be futile.

Tick.

Tick. Spike looked so peaceful sleeping under the table. I should've sent him up to bed before he fell asleep, but it hardly looked like he minded his makeshift nest.

Bed. Yeah, that's a good idea.

No more research was going to happen tonight, whether I wanted it to or not. I needed to get upstairs before I passed out under the table with my little dragon.

Tick.

Ugh. I shook my head to dispel the double vision, and struggled to my hooves. The book joined the others in the pile. Thump. I'd shelve them properly tomorrow.

I staggered towards the stairs, blanket trailing from my waist like the wrappings of an unravelled mummy. I reached for the gas valve with my magic, but paused moments before cutting the lights. I had forgotten something.

Purple energy uncoiled the blanket from my body, and carried silently across the room to rest upon his.

“G'night Spike.”

To my surprise, the dragon stirred. A sleepy emerald green eye opened to meet mine.

“G'night Twi.”