“One”
Dear Princess Celestia,
The gaining of knowledge has always been a part of my nature. Ever since I first saw you raise the summer sun so many years ago, I vowed to do something that would better ponykind in that way. I would do something that would change Equestria forever.
And now I have.
Well, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. My assistants and I are not actually sure if the serum that we have designed actually works. While it is true that we have run it through a gauntlet of tests, almost all of said tests revolve around rats solving a maze and other feats of muroidea intelligence. Today marks the first day of equine testing with the honor of being the first to be tested on to be decided using one of the most rudimentary forms of decision making: drawing straws.
I have been given the role of data collection for the upcoming experiment and am therefore out of consideration. I am disappointed, to be sure, but somepony has to do it, otherwise all of our research would be able to say is: “The Algernon Serum has the ability to increase the intelligence of rats.”
“Why did you name it The Algernon Serum?” It seems like every time a reporter interviews us on our research, they invariably ask that question first. The answer is always the same: our first successful test was on a rat named Algernon.
Most reporters then muse philosophically, going along the lines of “What’s in a name…” and chuckling to themselves. When they notice that we aren’t laughing with them the chuckle turns into a cough, followed by questions that revolve around the actual project.
But I digress. Let me resume writing about more interesting things, like levitating a cup full of straws of different lengths.
Well, that isn’t very interesting either I suppose. The only semi-interesting thing we got out of the straw-picking was the first pony to receive a dose of The Algernon Serum, which, while it might go down in history somewhere, is not very interesting at the moment. I suppose I should probably record his name and vital information down somewhere.
GUFFIN, MAC
MALE PEGASUS
AGE: 25 Years
HEIGHT: 16.8h
WEIGHT: 525kg
COAT COLOR: Lime Green
MANE COLOR: Dark Green
EYE COLOR: Hazel
BLOOD TYPE: Qa-
Now if anypony years from now should wish to know who the first pony to receive a dosage of The Algernon Serum was, they can apply for entrance into the royal archives, where they will see all of the information I have just given you.
I’m being called to the lab, where we are about to begin the experiment. I hope that my next letter will contain what I have learned from all this.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
***
Dear Princess Celestia,
I would love to report a success on the equine intelligence front, but I cannot. Instead of creating a smarter, more loving pegasus in the form of Mr. Guffin, The Algernon Serum has instead created a lethargic mess in winged pony form. It’s frustrating, seeing all that work go to waste on a single pony who is currently lounging on the break room couch.
Any attempts to get Mac Guffin to move anywhere close to testing have been met with some kind of witty retort. The last time we tried, the pegasus responded with, “I supposed to be smarter now, right? I’ll come do the tests when that happens,” before chuckling to himself.
I have been told that Mister Guffin is probably right. We have failed.
But, and this is a big but, we are not giving up yet. We just have to go back and rework the drug, test it on an animal closer related to ponies than mice are, and resume testing. Meanwhile, The Algernon Serum dose we gave Mr. Guffin should wear off within twenty four hours, and everything that happened today will have reset by tomorrow.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
PS. I should probably mention that in the physical we administered while Mac Guffin was unconscious immediately after the operation, we found that he had developed a cavity on every single one of his teeth. I suppose we will have to call in a dentist to get those filled. The grant money you gave us covers this, right?
***
Dear Princess Celestia,
The Algernon Serum has yet to wear off on Mac Guffin, which is odd seeing how fast it wore off on Algernon the mouse and all the other test mice we used.
Furthermore, it seems that Mac Guffin’s physical condition is degrading at an alarming pace. He now shambles from place to place, often not responding to outside stimuli.
Excuse me for making what must seem like an absurd hypothesis, but I have read enough books to recognize the symptoms of a zombie pony. I expressed my worries to the rest of the research team, and we agreed that the best course of action would be to have security quarantine our creation until either this fugue state subsides, or until we can be certain that a Mac Guffin under the effects of The Algernon Serum is safe to interact with under reasonable conditions.
We will continue to run more tests, and I will keep you updated on Mac Guffin’s progress as he continues to suffer from our mistake.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
***
Dear Princess Celestia,
This is more of a brief scrap between proper letters, but security at this facility is getting incredibly lax. Just now I saw a brown male earth pony running around the hallways. I am certain that nopony working at this facility matches those specifications. Even if I was mistaken (I wasn’t, and still am not), he wasn’t wearing a lab coat!
What kind of security system lets unauthorized personnel in without said unauthorized personnel looking the part?
I complained the security guard in charge of the gate. He seemed to be really taking in my comments. Granted, he seemed to be taking in everything in general, but I’m not one to judge perfectionism. Besides, if he is this into his job, so much the better. It does bring into question how this mysterious earth pony managed to get past him, but if he says didn’t see anything, then he probably didn’t see anything.
I’ll solve this mystery later. There’s science to be done.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
***
Dear Princess Celestia,
I was walking past the security booth this morning, which is only notable because the booth itself was empty. I rescind my opinion of this guard pony. He is most certainly not a perfectionist if he is not waiting right there when I arrive.
I decided to just teleport past the barrier. I know such an action is technically considered illegal, but, as wrote in my last letter yesterday, there’s science to be done.
Or there would be science to do if there were anypony else in the lab. I could understand at first, given what time it was when I turned the lights on, but at this point there is normally another pony here whose circadian rhythm has recently been almost as crazy as mine. The only other pony here is Mac Guffin, who is…
I’m not really sure how to explain in word form the look Mr. Guffin is giving me through the glass. Lust? Hunger? Either way, it only confirms my suspicions.
We have created a monster.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
***
Dear Princess Celestia,
Remember when I suggested that my circadian rhythms have been askew while working on this project? And how no other pony was at the lab when I was, but they would almost certainly eventually show up?
Wishful thinking. It is almost five o’clock now, and nopony has even walked by the laboratory door.
I hate to say it, but I am running out of excuses for them. I checked the calendar to make sure today isn’t a holiday, I have checked the mailbox seventeen times, in case everypony besides me came down with the flu, I have even hoof-written letters to them just in case they have an excuse that I haven’t thought of.
Nothing. No security ponies, no lab assistants, nothing. Just me, an insane monster, and empty space where the lab assistants are supposed to be.
Lesson learned: Most lab assistants are lazy.
Still, I have to wonder: How is it possible that all of them play hooky on the same day? Is possible that this a joke they planned to get back at me? I realize that I can be a tough boss, but this is a bit too much, wouldn’t you agree?
I need to take a walk. Get away from all this for a bit.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
***
Dear Princess Celestia,
I concluded last night during my walk that I would need to reexamine Mac Guffin. I brought this up during the research team morning meeting just before I started writing this and unsurprisingly received no good counterarguments. So, with a unanimous decision of one for and zero against, I began the preparations. The events that follow in this letter are going to be as real-time as possible.
10:03 AM: First thing’s first. Before I go into the same room as a monster, I have to size up the room and prepare for any possible eventuality. On the bright side, I should be able to wear a hazmat suit to protect myself from any disease this thing might be spreading. Unfortunately, if the suit gets ruptured or I get attacked, the door is the only escape route that doesn’t involve blasting a wall down. And blasting the wall of a hermetically sealed chamber defeats the purpose of it being hermetically sealed.
10:05: What kind of laboratory that specifically deals with dangerous chemicals doesn’t have hazmat suits?
10:06: Found them. They are clearly designed for ponies bigger than I, or at least ones with longer limbs, but they will have to do. Also, after I finish with this, remind me to complain to the facility supplier, because I am pretty sure this “D” on the tag means it should not be used in a chemical lab.
10:20: I am now double checking the dimensions of the quarantine chamber. As expected, the room has remained a square of ten meter width with a three meter high ceiling since I last measured it.
10:21: I was just now walking by the quarantine room door, when I heard this noise that sounded suspiciously like a zombie pegasus slamming himself against a piece of metal. The thing in there lunged at me! Do I really want to be doing this?
11:27: I have finally managed to convince myself that there is nothing to fear. I accept that most, if not all ponies have a fear of the unknown, but what is behind that chamber lock is most certainly known. And I know I have the capacity to deal with a known thing.
Telekinesis is an amazingly versatile ability. One of its most frowned upon uses is forcing another pony to be immobile. Fortunately, that thing is not a pony. Not anymore.
And if all else fails, I can simply teleport away.
11:31: I have just finished triple-checking the room dimensions. One can never be too careful.
12:44 PM: I finally feel ready, both equipment-wise and mentally. The plan is as follows:
First: Open the door.
Second: Telekinetically seize whatever pony-shaped thing is behind said door.
Third: Bring the two of us to a nearby table, which I have tried to set up from memory to be as much like an operating table as possible. While the lab storage room does have a lot of things, it does not have a saddlebag hospital in there. I have had to make do with some missing equipment.
Alright, a lot of equipment, but you know what they say: Necessity is the mother of invention.
Fourth: Using the tools I have, I will attempt to solve as many mysteries about what has happened over the past few days as possible.
If this plan seems vague, that’s because it is. I know I am usually more specific with my lists, but I have no knowledge of the being behind the hermetically sealed door besides what it once was and that I can handle it. I apologize, but if I knew more, I would express it.
I want to be able to focus as much as possible on handling Mac Guffin, so here is where I must end my letter. In case this plan does not work and you never hear from me again, I have decided to end with my weekly friendship lesson:
“Friendship” is more than just an attachment that you have with somepony else. Friendship is a state of mind, like being on an emotional high. It was how I was able to summon The Elements of Harmony all those years ago. It was how you pulled me out of Discord’s grip. It was how I was so ready to forgive all of you after my brother’s wedding.
And more than anything, friendship is the glue that holds all of Equestria, maybe even the whole world, together.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
“Fifteen”
I don’t think I have ever seen Ponyville's Town Hall this crowded. Sure there was the Summer Sun celebration a few years back, but a lot of the seniors and minors missed out on that on account of needing to sleep. This time, anypony who wants even the smallest say in our future as a town has shown up. And each and every pony in this hall is chattering up a storm.
Now, chattering can mean a lot of things. For some ponies, it means a hive of activity. Others, an annoyance meant to be silenced with harsh words and cane waving. To me, idle chatter means the most dismal shade of grey imaginable layered over my field of vision.
My name is Sound Bite, a simple earth pony like most of Ponyville. My cutie mark (a gramophone, for those interested) dictates that it is my job to memorize things other people say, and say them to other people.
Somepony once told me that such a job made me a “private ear.” I cuffed them.
“Ready?” A light blue tinge briefly overlaps the dull grey chatter, letting me know that Mayor Mare is right behind me. I nod as it slowly fades away, drowned out by hundreds of faceless voices. They could be saying “wallah” over and over, and the effect would still be the same.
“Thank you all for coming today.” Mayor Mare’s voice is a clarion call to be silent. After multiple shushes, the grey complies.
Mayor Mare continues, “I would try to waste time by having our secretary read off the minutes of our last meeting, but seeing as our last meeting had nothing to do with today’s elephant in the room, can I have a motion to proceed to our discussion points?”
“I so move.” One of the pegasi speaks up.
The move is seconded, and voted upon. “Aye” goes the majority.
I should probably mention that the particular shade of purple that is currently clouding my vision is my most favorite color in the world. Because when the world is purple, it means a chorus of agreement.
"The motion carries," Mayor Mare says. "Now, the first order of business is this rumor.
"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I have read multiple articles announcing that some of you think that, in light of the recent events in Cloudsdayle, I will be resigning my position as mayor of Ponyville. I also have had multiple people write to me begging me not to. I can tell you this: I have not ever even possessed the slightest notion of abdicating my position. Nor will I ever when the town that I love is put in danger such as this."
A wave of relief washes over the hall, interspersed with a couple of cheers. Slowly, the grey returns.
The mayor bangs her hoof on the podium, "Our next item of discussion is preceded by a presentation by Sound Bite."
That's my cue. I take the mayor's place on the podium, looking out into a sea of eyeballs. "I met with our resident shaman Zecora a few days ago," I begin. "I inquired if she had anything that might help uncover the events leading up to Cloudsdayle's downfall. I think her answer might have some significance to our problem."
I close my eyes. It's always easier to remember things when you close your eyes. I open my mouth and the memories flow away.
***
Look! The sky!
Cloudsdayle! Pegasi!
As one falls, another too
Diseased killings by the slew
A plague has attacked the clouded land
Its destruction is close at hand
The shops and cafés are all boarded up
Nopony goes there to eat their sup'
In fact, nopony is around at all
The sky so big, the city so small
It seems that they are all afraid
For a friend's death that gives you the spade
"Quarantine!" That's the word they cry
"Lock yourself away, 'lest ye die"
And so, Cloudsdayle has its empty streets
No Wonderbolt or other fleets
Patrol the skies, check parole
Personal safety is now their goal
Empty air and desolation
Thus I provide thee thy information
***
"Thank you Sound Bite," I hear Mayor Mare say as I open my eyes. I nod and let her resume her position on the podium.
"Now that we have a clearer idea of what happened to Cloudsdayle, I feel we all agree that something has to be done about this, so -"
"Now hold on, Mayor," It seems that an orange pegasus with a similarly colored voice disagrees. "There was nothing in that ‘presentation’ that gave us any more information than what we already know."
A murmur of grey.
"You only have one 'witness' to Cloudsdayle's misfortune, and she even gave a report of what happened after. We, as a town, deserve to have more information about what actually happened before jumping to any conclusions."
The murmur turns into a rumbling.
"I appreciate the concern, Lightning Spark, but you are, to be frank, missing the point," Mayor Mare says. "The information that Sound Bite has provided us is that something of Cloudsdayle origin has been killing off pegasus ponies at an alarming rate. Assuming it is a plague as Zecora suggests, we have to know how to deal with certain threats against our general wellbeing."
The rumbling turns into a roar.
"Hear me out!" says the mayor, which seems to at least turn the roar back into a murmur. "I have taken a look at some maps. There are five populated areas, including Ponyville, that are located within Equestria’s midwest: Cloudsdayle, Canterlot, Ponyville, Dodge, and Appleoosa. Of those five, Ponyville is now the only one with an active pegasus population I understand that our current information may be a little less than clear, but at present, I feel we have to assume that whatever attacked Cloudsdayle did it deliberately."
No response comes from the crowd. Noticing this, Mayor Mare continues, "At this point, we have a few options. We can ready ourselves to defend, medically speaking, almost any plague Cloudsdayle throws at us, we can -"
"A plague that may never come," A random voice in the crowd, yellow voice. "Are we going to waste resources on something that may never happen?"
Mayor Mare nods. "Let me finish. We could, of course, do nothing, with the expectation that the princesses handle it, or we could, erm, take drastic action.
"I would like to open the floor to discussion. If any of you think there are any other options, don't be afraid to bring them up."
The grey roar has returned. In come the questions. "What sort of drastic action are we talking about here?" asks one.
Another one asks, "Have the princesses presented anything that might deal with Cloudsdayle's pegasi, or expressed a need for our evacuation?"
“When you say ‘prepare to defend’, how in-depth does our defense have to be? How many vaccinations?”
“How come...?”
“Why...?”
I have lived in Ponyville all my life, and am still constantly amazed that some ponies have the abilities that they do. I'm not talking about The Elements of Harmony, whose adventures are already well known across Equestria, I'm referring to the smaller things, like the Cake family, who manages to be invited to at least one high-end pastry competitions per year, or Ms. Cheerilee, who has worked her flank off nurturing many fillies and colts to adulthood.
Today, Mayor Mare demonstrated why we reelect her year after year. While she may not have answered every single question in a way that was satisfactory to the questioner, she did provide meaningful responses, restating that (and I quote) "We are dealing with something out of our depth here Equestria has not had a city collapse like this in generations. We cannot just sit on our flanks while our librarian, chief scholar, and resident princess away. We have to be able to coordinate a solution.”
Despite Mayor Mare's efforts, the issue was tabled for a meeting two weeks from now.
The rest of the town hall meeting was rather uneventful. Sure there were some arguments involving funding this thing or that thing, but after those (or even before them, if you're not the type to get into microeconomics), there wasn't much left to discuss.
"Is there a motion to adjourn the meeting?" went the mayor.
"I so move. I second. Aye," went the grey.
"This town hall is adjourned."
***
I have found that an authority requesting a meeting with you in private usually means you did something wrong. If an authority was commending you, they would do it publicly, and unless you were already part of their administration, there would be no reason for them to meet with you anyways. So when Mayor Mare told me in the flesh to meet her at four PM in her office, I was already expecting the worst. Currently, I am standing at her office door.
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
I comply.
The mayor's office is utilitarian in nature. On the left wall (my left) hangs portraits of previous leaders of Ponyville, leading all the way back to its founding. On my right hangs academic certificates. Enough to look fancy but not enough to make me suspect any of them are forged. The back wall is glass, which I assume is tinted so that voyeurs can't see inside.
And in the middle of it all is a desk, behind which is the mayor, who looks just as she had during the town hall meeting.
"Do you remember what I told you the morning of six days ago?" she says.
Six days ago, morning, light blue voice. I close my eyes, searching my head for the right words. "Six days, what happened six days ago?" I mumble to myself.
I like to imagine that my memory is a lot like a library, with each single memory a book in that library. When asked a question, the pony in my head zips down the aisles searching for the correct answer. More often than not, the answer is in one of those books.
“Well?” All of Mayor Mare’s impatience will not make my inner pony run any faster.
Six days ago, morning, light blue voice. “Found it!” my little pony cries.
I open my eyes. “You said, ‘I want you to see if Zecora knows anything about what happened in Cloudsdayle. If she does, I want you to give a report for our next town hall meeting.’”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I never really liked that sort of question, but that doesn’t keep me from answering it.
"Did you lie to me when you told me you had that information?"
"What?" I ask.
"You heard me."
I don't know how to respond to any of this. Why would she think I was lying? I delivered the information to the town hall, right?
Mayor Mare continues her accusations, "I don't pretend to be The Element of Honesty, nor do I expect the same from anypony in town, save Applejack for the obvious reasons. That being said, if a pony presents in front of a town hall, they had better be presenting the correct information."
"I was presenting what I was told to present."
"What you were presenting was not anything ever said by Zecora."
The mayor's words are cyan now, not the lighter sky blue I've been used to. I really shouldn't be noticing these things, but when somepony is verbally attacking me, I have found that there's not much left to do besides pick up every little detail and try to get defensive about that specific point. Call it a force of habit. While a voice changing color isn’t very useful, other things may be after all.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Do you know what rhyming couplets sound like?" The mayor asks. "When writing them, most ponies assume that they are just two sentences or clauses that rhyme. What they do not realize is a couplet's meter is just as important as its ending syllables. When Zecora speaks, she speaks in true couplets, both in rhythm and rhyme. What you recited while on the podium was noticeably not."
I want to interrupt and ask "Since when did you know anything about poetry?" but I stop myself. Even when fighting to maintain my dignity, I do not attack or try to change the subject. Another force of habit, I suppose.
"And you just proved you could remember information from time periods even greater than that, so don't try to give me an excuse equivalent to 'I just remembered it wrong'."
Even when fighting to maintain my dignity.
"Are you just going to stand there staring at me or are you going to say something?"
"Ma'am, what do you want me to say?"
"I don't know, are you going to try and refute my reasoning or are you going to make a public apology? I can act on either of these."
I see no reason to grant her any satisfaction. I say nothing.
"Really, Sound Bite? You're still playing this game?"
I've proven as much, haven't I?
"If you're not going to tell me anything, you are dismissed. If you ever decide otherwise, just let me know, and we can arrange something."
There's no security, but I still feel myself being ushered out.
***
Mayor Mare dyes her mane and tail grey.
Every other week, Mayor Mare makes a monetary commitment to get her pink mane and tail dyed grey.
Every other week, Mayor Mare makes a monetary commitment to lie to Ponyville's public about her age.
The funny thing is, the everyone knows about it. It was leaked to the public over a year ago (by fillies, no less). And yet, she still continues to do it. We know she is an experienced leader, she doesn't need the greyness of age to prove it.
Every other week, Mayor Mare makes a monetary commitment to lie to herself. I see no difference between what she claims I did and what she does herself.
