Tap. Tap. Tap.
Ugh, stupid birds. I peeked my eyes open, the invisible, all-powerful force of sleepiness fighting my efforts. It was still morning, Celestia’s sun just barely peeking through the curtains. Why can’t they learn to leave me alone on test days?
“Spike, go shoo away that bird,” I slurred.
“Uh,” he responded, turning over and pulling the sheet over his head. Damn that lazy dragon.
I pulled myself very slowly, very tiredly out from the spot I had spent all night keeping warm. I slipped out onto the floor, my conscious mind having nothing to do with my quest. The sheet slipped away from my back as I half walked, half crawled to the balcony door and pulled back the curtains. There was no bird; it must have flown away.
Stupid bird. Stupid nature. Stupid sun on this stupid morning.
“Hey, Twilight!”
I walked out further onto the balcony, my eyes squinting in the unbearable light of the disgustingly resplendent morning sunrise.
“Get up, sleepyhead! I want to talk to you!”
I glanced down toward the ground. The last pony I wanted to talk to in the world smiled up at me.
“What?” I murmured.
“I just wanted to apologize about last night,” Lyra called, “I just got so excited about seeing you, I didn’t think about your test or getting you into trouble or anything. It was kind of messed up, and I feel really bad about it.”
“It’s fine,” I mumbled, turning around to go back to bed. Stupid Lyra.
“Wait! I wanted to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Look, I just wanted to make it up to you. I’m playing a sort-of concert tonight down on Mane Street. I was hoping you’d come with me. I want to apologize to you properly.”
I leaned my head against the bannister in exhaustion. “I don’t know, Lyra. I have that test and everything, and I’m probably going to have to do a whole bunch of remedial homework. Just—let me think about it, okay?”
Her smile faltered briefly, before jumping back as wide as usual. “Okay! I really hope you’ll come, it’s going to be a lot of fun!”
“Yeah, okay,” I responded as I went back into my room and closed the balcony door behind me.
I’m usually not that mean, but even the nicest of ponies can turn into a caricature of a foul-mouthed gryphon in the wee morning hours. Okay, I’m usually not that racist, either. I really needed to get myself awake so I don’t show up to my exam a bigoted, foul mouthed student with bags under her eyes. Stepping over the still sleeping Spike, I headed for the shower
Canterlot Castle was one of the few places in Equestria with the extreme luxury of hot running water. Next to the personal library and proximity to my teacher, having hot water was one of my favorite things about my life in the castle. I had spent two entire days coming up with theories about how such a thing would work. I presented my theory of thirty unicorns enchanted the castle pipes every ten feet before the princess. Needless to say, I ended up fairly embarrassed. She, in turn, took me down to the boiler room, where a massive coal fire heated up a tank of water to be transported through the pipes. That was when I learned that the simplest answers are usually the most accurate.
Perhaps that’s why I never talked with the princess about my ideas of the Meaning of Life. I’m sure she knows something about it, but the subconscious fear of embarrassing myself is always crawling in the back of my mind. Asking questions is one thing, but presenting original research is another. I try to make sure I am absolutely correct before presenting such things. I guess it’s just my perfectionism shining through.
I stood in the shower, the warm water washing the sleepiness away, thus washing away the haze on my mind. There were things to do, after all. My test was on teleportation. I had already mastered teleporting myself short distances by then, so I assumed that the test would be on theories. Princess Celestia usually kept the exact questions of the test a secret, which made sense. A test in which one already knew all the questions only necessitates that one memorize the answers. Some things cannot simply be memorized, to be regurgitated at will. Some things require an intimate understanding of its entirety. After all, everything need be discovered before it can be learned.
Like the Meaning of Life. I allowed myself a moment of introspection. Why do I keep coming back to this topic? My mind is usually much more varied and capricious. To have a singular topic dominate my attention was unprecedented. It had to be that book. To have answers dangled in front of me, answers to such a long asked question, no less, was infuriating. I sat down in the tub, leaning my back against the porcelain side behind me, letting the water seep into my mane and down my face. I usually don’t get depressed that easily—angry, upset, and excited, yes—but sad? I have to admit, however, that it was a real blow to my mood to have lost that book. To have an entire library full of nothing, yet just one dusty volume with all the answers! It made me close my eyes and dream of holding it in my hooves.
It would put everything else I learned into perspective. Teleportation can be thought of as a strictly utilitarian spell. It exists to perform a function to ponykind. Same with levitation, conjuration, transformation, and every other ‘ation’ I could think of. What is its real purpose? If ponykind did not exist, what would bring these many different and varied magical facets into existence? Do they only exist to serve us? Do we exist to bring them into existence? The Meaning of Life is the answer.
Sighing deeply, I leaned up and turned off the faucet with my hoof. Even as foul as my mood had turned, I still had work to do. Tests don’t answer themselves, after all. I grabbed the towel and slung it lazily around myself as I reentered the room proper, taking no care not to leave water everywhere.
Aside from the more pronounced glow of the sun into the slightly open curtains, the room was the same. Spike still slept in his bed-basket, the books I had pulled aside yesterday still laid neatly stacked on my reading table, the checklist of things to go over sat unchecked. The grandfather clock in the corner informed me I might not have time to check all the boxes. A damn travesty.
I flopped down on the wooden stool and listlessly grabbed the book on top of the pile. “On Leylines of Non-Living Objects”. Why did I pick this again? Oh yeah, to present theories on teleporting small objects. Celestia, I’m not in the mood to read this. I have entire bookshelves full of books on magic in my room alone, and none of them are the book I want! Why does life have to be so ironic!
Ugh. Chapter One – On Leylines and Magic Flux. I already know this! Next chapter. Heh. I usually never skip chapters, even ones I’ve already read. I’m really in an odd sort of mood today. I shook my head vigorously, trying desperately to clear the cobwebs formed by ancient books and mint green unicorns. Time to study, Twilight, you can do this!
And I did…
…For a little while.
I made it through On Leylines, as well as a generic book on teleportation theory and half a book on early teleportation researchers, but that’s pretty much all the useful studying I did that morning. It turns out I can get pretty distracted when I’m distracted. When I got to the chapter on Clover the Clever’s contributions, I found my mind once again wandering off.
Hadn’t the princess said that Clover wrote about Starswirl’s madness, and his “mad” theories? That could give me something to go on, at least until I was able to get Volume Twelve back.
“Spike!”
No answer. I turned my head back to find him still sleeping. I guess I made him stay up later than I had thought the previous night. With a small pang of guilt, I let him sleep and went to find the desired book on my own. Scanning quickly through the volumes, I quickly found the ‘C’ section, followed by a small collection of writings by Clover—Cratylus, Critius, Euthydemus, and Republic. Not an extensive collection, I know, but somewhere to start, at least. For whatever reason, I reached out with my magic to acquire “Critius”. I’m not sure why, but for whatever reason, that title seemed to speak to me more than the others, even though it seemed to be the thinnest. I cracked it open and quickly scanned the words before me.
It told the tale of an ancient kingdom known as ‘Atlantis’, as told by Starswirl the Bearded and rewritten by Clover. One of the first things that she notes is that the original name was lost to memory, that this was her own name for the place that Starswirl spoke of. It existed in another time, in another place. They had wonders beyond comprehension, and yet were completely destroyed by their own insanity. Clover didn’t elaborate. They were also ruled by…
Humans.
Huh. Maybe Lyra was on to something. Well, on to fairy tales, at least. Clover was famous for writing complete fiction as fact, both to rouse interest and make commentary. That was probably all this was. I marked my page and stretched. I had been reading for quite a while now. So long, in fact, that my stomach was making desperate noises of protest, no longer accepting being ignored. I suppose I should put this book aside for now, get some breakfast, and then do some last minute cramming before my test at nine o’clock.
“Spike, wake up!”
“Uh…” he muttered.
“Come on, Spike, we’re going to go get breakfast.”
He yawned obnoxiously and rolled over onto his back, glancing sleepily up at the grandfather clock. “Twilight, the palace kitchen isn’t serving breakfast anymore. I’m going back to bed. Wake me for lunch.”
My eyes growing wide with fear, I too looked at the clock. Nine thirty seven. Oh crap.
Oh crap. Oh crap! Oh crap! OH CRAP! OH CRAP!!!
“SPIKE! My test!” I screamed, dancing around in circles, mind in a fog.
My checklist. Where is my checklist! It contains all the things I need to do for the test on it, including the location of the checklist of things I need to bring to my exam!
“Spike! Where’s…”
Now fully awake, he waddled over to me, holding a small stack of books, parchment, quills, and the ever-necessary checklist. I grabbed them from his claws with my telekinesis, ripped open the door to my room, and tore down the corridor.
The books and parchment were no longer arranged in an orderly pile in my magic, they were swirling around me as I slipped out of concentration in my handling. Guards and servants alike leapt out of the way of my hurricane of panic. All things left my mind except for how upset the princess would be at my tardiness after the events of last night. Magic preschool suddenly seemed like an entirely too benevolent punishment. The only thing that I could think of that would fit the vast travesty of my crimes was for the princess to have my horn removed surgically. Yes, that seemed the most realistic. I shuddered at the thought. Unless you’re a unicorn—or a stallion—then you couldn’t possibly understand the horror I felt at that moment.
I threw open the doors to Princess Celestia’s bedroom, thoroughly ignoring the vehement protests of the guards on either side as they were flung wildly away, and ran inside. I was then finally able to stop, panting, as all of my supplies collapsed all around me.
“Princess, I… Pri…” I sputtered, entirely unable to catch my breath.
Princess Celestia looked up over her glass of tea with mild amusement. She sat on a very comfortable looking velvet pillow in front of a blackboard.
“Twilight, you’re late,” she noted nonchalantly.
“Yes. I’m so sorry,” I choked out between breaths of air, “I got caught up. With studying. Please. Don’t cut off my horn. I’m sorry!”
“Cut off your horn? Why would I ever do a thing like that?”
“I just… magic preschool, not enough.”
“Twilight, you need to calm down and catch your breath. Come here and have some tea with me.”
I hesitantly walked over and sat down, internally flinching at the punishment that I now knew might not be so inevitable after all. She levitated a teacup over, sitting it down in front of me.
“You don’t have to be upset, Twilight,” she continued, filling my cup, “Yes, you’re late. I had to move around several appointments to make room for your exam today. However, this is the first time you’ve been tardy, so as long as it doesn’t happen again, I’m sure we can all overlook it.
“Now, I believe you have a test to take. Are you ready?”
“Yes, princess,” I lied.
“Excellent. Please take your place at the blackboard. Oh, and by the way, I had to reschedule one of my appointments for my usual lunchtime, so I’ll be taking my lunch now. I hope that’s not a problem.”
I thought I could see the smallest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Not even a moment after she had said this, my stomach made a sound of grieving over the forgotten morning breakfast. This was not going to be fun.
“Now please write the equations as to how you would teleport a short distance while carrying your teacup,” she instructed pleasantly.
Right, teacup. I took the chalk in my telekinesis, and began writing my base equations on the board. My writing wasn’t quite what it could be, as a combination of exhaustion and nerves dulled my brain. As I got to the variable concerning the reluctance variable of the cup to magic leylines, I paused.
“Princess, you never told me what the reluctance of the cup is.”
“Oh?” she questioned knowingly, raised her eyebrows, “I had thought one of the things we had discussed was how to measure reluctance using a spell.”
Right, that spell. I concentrated magic through my horn and quickly gauged the cup. Nothing. I couldn’t even get a single definite measurement! Why hadn’t I practiced this spell more! I had to come up with something, quick. I knew the coefficient of porcelain was 4.2, and I would guess the overall density of the object to be 0.2, so…
“The reluctance is one point eight inverse horsries,” I stated, perhaps allowing a little too much hesitance to shine through.
“It is?” she questioned lightly, “I have measured it at two point three. Perhaps I need a little bit of brushing up on my technique. Or maybe you forgot the cup was full of tea when you tried to guess without using a spell.”
Crap.
“Right, so, uhm… use the reluctance to calculate the magic flux, then plug that into Mareaday’s law, and…”
“Excuse me for a minute, Twilight,” the princess interrupted, “It appears my lunch has arrived.”
I turned around, and sure enough, a butler wheeled in a collection of platters on a silver cart. He placed them next to Princess Celestia and bowed low. “Anything else, your highness?”
“No, thank you. You may go.”
He bowed again and left without another word. The princess took the lid off of the biggest platter, and a sudden aroma reached my nostrils. Nachos. The princess almost never ate nachos! Those are my favorite! Okay, I was sure of it. She was just doing this to punish me. She wanted to distract me as much as possible so I’ll fail the test. She’s…
“Please continue, Twilight,” the princess instructed nonchalantly, biting into a nacho.
My stomach rumbled even louder. Those nachos smelled sooooo good. Celestia pretended not to notice.
“Okay, and uhm… with the final calculation, I estimate that I’ll need roughly eighteen percent more magic to teleport the cup than just me alone.”
“Why so much? The cup of tea weighs much less than you do.”
“Because, uhm…” I closed my eyes and recalled the books I had read that morning. “Because leylines are more easily concentrated in living things, so you don’t have to use as much if you’re just teleporting yourself. A non-living thing requires proportionally much more.”
“Very well, Twilight. Please demonstrate. Teleport onto the carpet on the other side of the room with the tea cup.”
I gulped. Needless to say, after the events of the previous night and morning, I didn’t have much time to actually practice the spells. I closed my eyes. I felt heat in my horn as I channeled magic through it. I felt the fluctuations of magic around me reach the usual level I used for short range teleportation, then I increased it slightly, letting the flow of magic wrap around the cup and lift it. Cramming my eyes as tight as they would go, I allowed the surge of magic to overtake me. The familiar sensation coursed through my body, like the tingling of a sleeping limb. Purple light consumed my vision as the spell released.
I opened my eyes. I wasn’t in the princess’s room; I was in her bathroom. Crap. Come on, Twilight! You can’t even do one spell right? I looked around the ornate marble room for the object I was supposed to have brought with me. Nowhere. Double crap. I opened the door back to the bedroom and looked over at the princess sheepishly.
She had not moved a muscle, except to look back at me with bemusement. I had failed. I knew it. I couldn’t even teleport twenty feet without messing up!
“Come back over here, Twilight,” she said, “And bring the tea cup while you’re at it. At least that reached its destination.”
I picked up the cup in my mouth, no longer trusting my magic, and walked shamefully over to her. I placed the cup down in front of her and hung my head.
“Twilight, please cheer up. You didn’t fail.”
What?
“…but you didn’t do near as well as you usually do. I would judge your efforts at a C+.”
C+! Having my horn removed would be way too kind. She would probably intend to shave all my fur, place a dunce cap on my head, and sit me on a pedestal in the middle of Canterlot for the rest of my life.
“I’m worried about you, Twilight. Is there something wrong? Are your parents alright?”
“I’m fine, your highness,” I lied, “I just… I don’t know. I couldn’t concentrate today. I was tired all morning. There was this crazy pony throwing rocks at my window this morning.”
“A crazy pony? What did they want?”
“It was that Lyra girl again. She asked me to hang out with her tonight.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her ‘maybe’. I know I should have just said no, but I was really tired…”
“Twilight, that was an incredibly rude thing to say,” the princess scolded, “You really must treat your friends better than that. I’m excusing you from all homework tonight so that you may spend time with your friend.”
“But Princess! She’s not even…”
“I will not take no for an answer. You will go tonight.”
“Yes, princess,” I said, hanging my head in shame for upsetting my mentor.
“I’m actually quite happy for you, my faithful student,” she continued with a small smile, “I was afraid you’d never try to make any friends besides those dusty old books of yours. You’ll find that the magic of friendship is a reward in itself. I do hope you enjoy yourself tonight. Now before I let you go for today, are there any questions for me?”
It was the usual end-of-session question, and I usually asked about clarification of some topic we’d discussed. However, there was a question I had since that morning that I’ve never heard the princess talk about.
“Yes, princess. I was wondering if you’ve ever heard of the story of Atlantis.”
Princess Celestia took a sip of her tea and set her cup back down. “Not for quite a long time,” she started thoughtfully, “It was an ancient empire of non-equine creatures, if I remember. Clover the Clever first wrote about it briefly in her writings “Critius” and “Timaeus”. There was a fad among conspiracy theorists last century to go out and look for evidence of its existence.”
“Did they ever find anything?”
“No, of course not.” She smiled. “It’s just a legend, after all. It did dominate the culture for a while, however, so I suppose that makes it real, in a manner. There was even a popular folk song taken directly from “Timaeus”. No, I don’t quite remember how it goes,” she finished, correctly guessing my next question.
“Thank you, princess.”
“May I wonder why you would ask of it?”
“I just… came across it in my readings.”
“I see. Remember, Twilight, that dwelling on the past, or the future, for that matter, is never a productive use of the short time we have. Always keep in mind the life in front of you, on your friends and your family. It’s good to know history, but not to live in it. Were there any other questions?”
“No, that was it.”
“Then I suggest you go get some lunch; the kitchens just opened, if I’m not mistaken. Then you should let Ms. Heartstrings know that you intend to accompany her tonight. I hope to hear of your evening when I see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, princess.”
I left her chambers feeling utterly exhausted, and I had a whole night of being fake and pretending to enjoy myself to look forward to. At least for now I could fill my very angry stomach and get a good nap. Then maybe I could finish reading Critius before wasting my time out on the town.