• Published 27th Aug 2012
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Only Human: A Lyra Heartstrings Production - Smoking Gun



Lyra Heartstrings becomes the showrunner for a hit new kids show: Only Human

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Chapter 5: The Writers Room

Only Human: A Lyra Heartstrings Production
Chapter 5: The Writers Room

By Smoking Gun


Three years ago:

“Lyra, why are you here?”

Lyra’s eyes were starting to dry out from staring at the clunky desktop in her dorm. The desk was littered with empty coffee cups and scrunched-up lecture notes while her monitor had an incredibly wordy document open, with several YouTube videos in the background.

“What does it look like, Lauren?” she growled at her roommate, still gazing at the monitor.

Lauren, a unicorn with a white coat and red mane, casually tossed her almost-full saddle bag onto her bed and let out a sigh of relief. “Chill, Lyra. I just didn’t expect you to be up this late.”

“Aren’t you?” Lyra paused. “Oh, goodness, am I hallucinating?”

“That’s what I’m wondering.” Lauren approached the desk, looking over the papers and document on the table. “Isn’t this your Film Production assignment?”

Lyra looked back at the computer, holding her stare for a moment. “I certainly hope so.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be a group assignment?”

“It could be,” Lyra said, shrugging as she went back to typing.

Lauren’s eyebrows arched as she leaned on the one of the few free spots on the desk. “Were there no groups left for you?”

“At this point, probably.”

Putting her hoof on Lyra’s shoulder, Lauren spun her around, looking straight into her bloodshot eyes. “Lyra, why are you here?”


Today:

“Why am I here?” Lyra hid her bloodshot eyes behind a large pair of stylish shades, although the sun wasn’t exactly cooperating with her. “Since when do writers have to get up at six in the morning?”

Bon Bon, who was standing next to her, chuckled at the sight of her zombielike friend. “I know that feel. You ever heard the expression ‘executive hours’?”

Lyra nodded.

“So not true!”

The two mares trotted through the Pub production lot. Entering the main gates, the two passed several warehouses, outdoor sets, and office buildings, all of which were still dwarfed by the size of the Pub Tower. Thankfully, it brought Lyra shade for a few moments.

Bon Bon stopped Lyra in front of a brown five-story office building marked ‘W.P-04.’

“Here we are. I’ll just give you a quick tour before I head out,” Bon Bon said as she guided Lyra inside.

Stepping inside, Lyra found herself in a typical foyer, complete with a few poorly placed ferns and a wild racoon. She looked past the plants and the reflective elevator doors, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

Unless you count the accoon in the corner.

Bon Bon led her into the elevator and pushed the button for the second floor. The elevator took them to a long, uninteresting hallway that stank of fresh paint. As they walked out of the elevator, they saw that the office in front of them had a piece of paper, poorly sticky-taped to the door, that read “Only Humin.”

Please tell me I didn’t misspell ‘human’ in the paperwork.

“Yeah, sorry about this,” Bon Bon said with a nervous chuckle. “We’re still finalizing the logo - that, and I think they misspelled the title.”

Oh, thank Celestia.

“It’s fine, I’m sure it’ll... what do you mean, ‘finalizing the logo’? What’s wrong with the one I had in my bible?” Lyra asked in a slightly hurt tone of voice.

Bon Bon’s eyes shifted from left to right as she forced a smile. “Oh, nothing, nothing at all. It’s just some bureaucracy, legal... clarification crap that would probably bore you.” Silence filled the hallway, broken only by an awkward cough from Bon Bon.

The awkward cough? For real?

“Oh, look at the time!” Bon Bon said, not looking at anything. “I’ve got to get to casting call. Actors don’t have to get up as early as us, you’ll learn to hate them for it.”

“Um... are you sure you don’t want me at the casting? This is my show, right?” Lyra asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely. This is just the preliminary stuff. You’ll get final say. You have my word,” Bon Bon said, nodding her head enthusiastically.

Lyra let out a sigh of relief. “Right. So I guess I should get to it.”

Bon Bon pulled her in for a hug. Thankfully, she couldn’t see Lyra’s blushing face from where she was. “You’re gonna knock it out of the park!”

Don’t let your hoof wander. Don’t let your hoof wander.

“Will do, boss,” Lyra squeaked out.

Bon Bon released her. “Speaking of getting to it, I have to book. I’ll call you afterwards,” she said as she trotted to the elevator door.

Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Stop staring.

Reaching the elevator, Bon Bon turned back to her unicorn friend, winking at her. “Go get ’em,” she said before the doors closed.

If you insist.

Lyra gazed back at the door to her show’s office, taking a deep breath before finally entering. The room inside looked just like the rest of the building: boring. The first thing she found was an empty receptionist desk. She gazed down the hallway and trotted to the very end, passing several small offices before reaching the biggest one. The door was already open, so she walked straight in. She noticed that she had a fairly nice view of the shopping district of Canterlot, with a large desk facing opposite the window so that she could see who came into the office. There wasn’t much else of interest in the room—

Unless you count the accoon in the corner.

Until she noticed what was printed on the front door:

“Lyra Heartstrings—Show-Runner.”

Lyra just stared, soaking the words into her eyes. The corners of her lips turned up, revealing her pearly whites. She looked back into her office with her empty desk and the lovely view out onto the city.

It’s actually happening. And to me, of all ponies. Feeling a sense of freedom in her solitude, Lyra shed a single tear, letting it drip over her smile.

“The other offices have better views.”

Lyra almost jumped out of her skin. Taking a deep breath, she turned around, seeing a young unicorn colt standing behind her. His mane was beige, and his body was a light brown. “But I’ll admit, it’s all right, considering all the others on this floor,” he concluded.

Lyra took another deep breath, trying to keep her heart from jumping out of her chest. “Please don’t do that again. I almost jumped out the window.”

“Sorry about that,” he said as he offered her his hoof. “Name’s Touch Type.”

She smiled and shook hooves with him. “Lyra Heartstrings. So... are you the secretary?”

“I’m your junior writer, actually,” he replied. “I sit in on meetings, take notes of what everypony says, prepare your pitches, maybe throw in a few—”

“Hold on a second,” Lyra interrupted. “What do you mean, ‘pitches’? I already made my pitch to the executives.”

Touch Type paused for a moment before answering. “Your episode pitches,” he said with a hint in his voice like he expected her to know what he was talking about. “You know? You have to pitch individual episodes to the network before they sign off on it.”

“We have to do that, as well?” Lyra asked with disbelief.

Touch held his gaze of surprise at her for a while. “You really didn’t know that?”

Lyra chuckled and blushed. “Sorry, kinda new around here.”

Touch looked down at the ground, breathing audibly as he nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Silence.

If he coughs, I swear to—

“Let me show you around,” Touch said brightly.

That’s... better? Lyra followed Touch back down the hall, passing offices similar to hers but much smaller.

"Everyone on staff gets their own office, although some will have to share,” he explained before reaching the kitchen area. “This is the kitchen, or—as I like to call it—‘The Green Room.’”

Lyra chuckled. “Like the green room they have on movie sets?”

“No, because of the fungus in the corner,” Touch said, gesturing towards the green fungi growing out of the wall.

Lyra’s face constricted a fair bit as she took a step back. “They had the time to put my name on the wall, but not clean the place?”

Touch raised himself onto his hind legs, spreading his forelegs out and smiling. “Hey, this little slice of heaven is all yours.” As if on cue, the raccoon from Lyra’s office ran past him in the background.

Please tell me that raccoon isn’t my secretary.

“Come on, everypony’s waiting in the writers’ room,” Touch said as he continued down the corridor.

“Wait,” shouted Lyra. “When did you all get here?”

“Right after you did. They sent me to get you.”

Lyra followed Touch through the door at the very end of the office and discovered the largest room she had seen thus far. In the center of the room was a large circular table with enough space to fit eleven ponies. Each seat had a computer in front of it; one of them had a tablet and stylus hooked up to it. The far wall had a projector sheet hanging in front of it, with the projector hanging from the ceiling. There was a water cooler in the corner near the door and a printer and scanner on the opposite side of the room.

As Touch had promised, Lyra found five other ponies sitting at the table. Their chatting ceased as soon as they saw her.

Touch took his seat next to Lyra’s spot at the head of the table. “Shall we begin?”


“All right, ladies, let’s begin.”

Bon Bon stood before a packed room of mares sitting at tables and comparing scripts, filmographies, and Twitter followers. Bon Bon held in her hoof a tablet with a list of names.

“I have a list with all your names, as well as all the characters you’ve asked to audition for. We’ll call out the names in no particular order, you’ll come in and read your lines, and we’ll call you if you make the next round.”

Bon Bon knew that these ladies were veterans of the business and didn’t need this explained to them, but it was all part of the show.

“First on the list is... Fleur de Lis.”

An elegant white and pink unicorn gracefully brushed her hair back as she stood up, levitating her script and purse as she followed Bon Bon into the recording studio. The room was bourbon coloured and had a freshly cleaned carpet. A small set of stairs led Fleur up to the recording booth, which was transparent, as the only thing surrounding it was soundproof glass. Stepping inside, Fleur laid her script on the podium, which was conveniently attached to the microphone. She walked up to the mic.

Bon Bon took her seat in the control area of the studio. A unicorn stallion was operating the mixing board, adjusting several identical-looking knobs. She sat down at a table, which had room for two. Two copies of the audition script were laid out in front of each chair. Bon Bon opened the script and looked up at the first candidate.

“Can you hear me in there, Fleur?”

“Loud and clear!” Fleur called back.

“At least there’s somepony who’s listening.”

Bon Bon shot around in her chair and saw Synergy standing right behind her. “Did you just get here or have you been waiting for a chance to startle me?”

Synergy smirked. “And if my answer was both?”

“Then I’d believe you.”

Synergy took her seat next to Bon Bon. “So who do we have first?” she asked.

“Fleur. She’s auditioning for...” Bon Bon’s voice trailed off as she searched for the character names on the list. “Diane and Clair.”

“Then let’s get started,” Synergy said, looking up at Fleur. “Why don’t you start reading, dear? Start with Clair.”

Fleur cleared her throat with a dainty little cough. “Sarah, darling,” she said elegantly, “if you are seriously considering a global catastrophe, we should at least look good for the occasion.”

Bon Bon leaned over towards Synergy. “She’s good.” Synergy nodded in return.

“Excuse me,” called Fleur. “But... this isn’t the actual script, is it? It looks like it might need a punch up.”

Bon Bon chuckled, creating a smile of relief on Fleur’s face. “Of course not. These are just slug lines until the real script comes in.”

Bon Bon glanced to her side, noticing Synergy staring straight at her with a blank expression. “This is Heartstrings’ original script, isn’t it?” Synergy asked.

Slowly, Bon Bon grew a grin as her eyes shifted nervously. “Nnnno?”

The two executives looked back to their auditionee, noticing her holding up her cell phone to the script.

About an hour later, Fleur left the recording room with Bon Bon following her. “OK, ladies, I’ll say this now so I don’t have to say this to anyone else: The next pony that tweets or instagrams the script will be escorted out.”


Lyra smiled to her crew and waved. “Hello, everybody.”

“Pony,” corrected everypony in the room at once. The loud noise bounced off the four walls, coalescing in Lyra’s eardrums.

Great, now it’s surround sound.

“Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m Lyra Heartstrings. Call me Lyra. I’m the show-Runner... according to my door, and I guess, I should let you all introduce yourselves because you’d all know who I am and why am I still talking—”

“Lyra, it’s OK,” Touch said as he laid his hoof on her shoulder, guiding her ever-so-subtly down to her chair. “Let’s just go around the room. Ink, why don’t you start?”

On Touch’s left, a blue-coated earth pony with a dark mane was sitting beside a white pegasus with a blonde mane. “Howdy, Miss Heartstrings. Ah’m Ink Splash, and this is mah wife, Feather Quill.”

Feather leaned past her husband so she could make eye contact with Lyra. “We met in writers’ room on the last show we worked on, Emerald Knights. We’ve been working as a team ever since.” She gently laid her hoof on her husband’s.

Lyra’s head tilted as she smiled. “Aww, that’s so sweet.”

“It is until ya get into an argument ’bout character interactions,” remarked Ink. “If ya’ll ever figure out howta win one of those, do be so kind as to let me know.” Suddenly his wife's grip grew tighter.

Looking to her right, Lyra saw a unicorn mare with glasses. Her mane was a light brown, while her coast was a slightly darker brown. “I’m Short Hoof. I’ve written for Little Justice, Spectacular Spiderham, and Transmorphers. I’ve also been nominated for two Critics’ Choice Awards. And that’s really all I have to say right now.” Short lay back in her chair patiently.

Lyra did the only thing she could: nod. “OK, then... and you?” she said as she gazed to the last unidentified face next to Short Hoof.

This last mare was a white unicorn with a frazzled blue mane and eyes covered by a pair of thick purple shades. “Vinyl Scratch. I’m the show’s composer.”

“Awesome! What have you worked on before?”

Vinyl shrugged. “I don’t know... Internet stuff, I guess. I operated under the alias ‘DJ PON-3.’ And before you ask, autographs are 15 bits.”

“If you’re the composer, why are you here now?” Lyra asked.

Vinyl chuckled. “I’m supposed to help you guys with song lyrics when you need them, and then I write the melody for them afterwards. Apart from that, it’s just excuse for me to drink and get paid for it.”

Lyra glanced around the room. “But there aren’t any drinks in here.”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” said Vinyl as she gestured towards the water cooler. “That’s actually vodka.”

Lyra took a moment to process the information. “And how exactly do you plan to compose anything if you’re drunk?”

Vinyl smirked. “Well, I’m not gonna know if I don’t try, will I?”

She’s... got me there.

“Okie dokie,” Lyra proclaimed, putting her hooves together. “Shall we all get started?”

“We shall.” Touch used the computer at his seat to turn on the projector, which then showed the same script that was on each of their monitors. “We’ll work through the pilot script for now, just so we can have something to put into production.”

Lyra perked up. “OK, does anyone have any questions about the script so far?”

Short raised her hoof. “The first problem I have is with the name of the school they go to. Can you scroll down to page three, please?”

Wait... did she say “problem”?

Touch scrolled to page three, highlighting the name of the university as stated in the stage directions. Short continued. “The University of Manhattan?” She tilted her head forwards for emphasis. “The University of... MANhatten?”

Lyra nervously smiled as she raised her hooves in the air. “Get it?”

It looks she wants to beat me with that monitor.

Short took a deep breath. “A little on-the-nose, don’t you think?”

“It’s named after a made-up creature,” retorted Lyra. “In what world is that on-the-nose?”

“Let me rephrase,” said Short. “It’s way too puny.”

This little... “Well, it’s not like the city would be called ‘Manehatten,’ so why call it that? I saw an opportunity for a good name and I took it.”

Great job, Lyra! Now don’t let her know how much she scares you.

“Why? Why does it have to not be named Manehatten? Are there no names in this universe? Have the humans branded everything? Can you answer that?”

Lyra’s eye started to twitch when she noticed Short’s mouth start to creep upwards. She started to raise herself in her seat. “You know—”

“Ah have a question, myself, Miss Heartstrings!” shouted Ink, just in time.

Finally! Somepony to keep me from saying stupid stuff.

“Son, why don’t ya take us to the bottom of page 15?” As requested, Touch took them to the page. “This whole conversation between Diane and Justin.” Ink’s eyes narrowed. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

That’s how you know they’re about to say something bad.

“Ah understand that this is all about their relationship and character building... but it could use a fair bit of tweaking, ya see?”

“Um... may I ask what part needs to be tweaked?” asked Lyra, forcing herself to look relaxed.

“The whole thing,” Ink stated bluntly. “The dialogue is clunky and doesn’t flow very well, and ‘gorgeous’ isn’t spelt ‘G-E-O-R-G-E-S.’”

Where were you then, autocorrect?!

“Not to mention the fact that it kinda rushes through things, ya know?”

“No I don’t,” Lyra growled.

If I did, I wouldn’t have done it.

Ink Splash continued, gesturing towards the projection. “Fer starters, they start off hating each other, Justin cracking jokes around her, she’s being kind of a two-dimensional twit—” He quickly turned back to his showrunner and bowed his head. “Pardon my language, ma’am.”

“Pansy,” muttered Vinyl.

“And by the end, if the dialogue is any indication, it looks like they wanna knock boots.” concluded Ink. “If ya don’t mind me saying, that is.”

Vinyl nodded. “Nice.”

Lyra nodded her head. “If you don’t mind me saying...” She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. “If you don’t mind me saying. And what if I did?”

Ink’s expression of concern was dwarfed by his wife’s. “Miss Heartstrings,” she said deliberately, “my husband is simply doing his job in trying to help this script be as good as it can. Just like everypony here.”

Lyra and Feather locked eyes, their pupils constricting to pinpoints. “Well, Feather, have you ever heard of things being the way they are for a reason?”

“Maybe you screwed up for a reason.”

Immediately, Lyra turned her head to look straight at Short Hoof, who was lying back in her seat and staring straight at Lyra. “You know, so you could learn a thing or two.”

Showing her teeth like an animal, Lyra placed her hooves on the foreleg rests of her chair, preparing to push herself up. Her energy faded when she felt Touch Type laying a hoof on her shoulder. “Miss Heartstrings? You OK?”

Lyra stood up, pushing her chair back as she stormed out the room, leaving nothing but an awkward silence in her wake. The humming of the computers kept some noise going while a brief flickering of the projector helped liven the mood for a few seconds.

Taking a deep breath, Touch Type slowly pushed his chair out and exited the room. “You’ll have to excuse me.”


“You’re excused.”

And with that, the last actress left the recording room. The waiting room was silent, and the there was no sound left to be recorded. Bon Bon and Synergy had both let their manes down and had hung their suit jackets on the hook near the door behind them. There were several coffee cups in the bin next to the desk, as well as several doodles Bon Bon had drawn on the back of the script.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” began Synergy, “but I am beyond done for the day. We’ll look over them with Heartstrings tomorrow.”

Bon Bon was looking through the assortment of application forms that the mares had filled out, along with the headshots they had sent in. “We still don’t have one yet.”

“Have one what?” Synergy groaned.

“Clair. The few we had were OK, but I didn’t really hear one that stuck out to me. If they don’t stick out to me, how will they stick out to Lyra?”

Synergy circled the table so that she was now in front of Bon Bon. “Who cares? If nopony amazing auditioned, what are we supposed to do?”

Bon Bon didn’t raise her eyes to meet Synergy’s. “Lyra cares. This is her show, remember?”

“Yes, and we can thank you for that,” Synergy slyly. “Lyra will have to be disappointed this time around.”

“No,” Bon Bon stated as she kept her eyes to the actress papers. “There has to be one out there. There has to be somepony who can ace playing a selfish, looks-obsessed, manipulative, fancy, stuck-up twat.”

“Hello? Anypony here?”

The two executives turned their heads to the waiting room door, which had been cracked open. The two slowly pulled it back so they could peek into the waiting room. It had a lone occupant. She was a stunning unicorn with a white coat and a styled purple mane.

“Pardon me, darlings. I heard this was the room to be famous.”


Lyra chugged down a second cup from the vodka cooler in the green room, wiping what was left from her lip. She then went straight to pour another.

Gotta stay hydrated, right?

“You don’t deserve this.”

Lyra turned to find Touch Type standing with her in the green room, looking far more serious than he had when they had first met that morning.

“I know,” Lyra agreed. “If you listen to them, it sounds like I—”

“No,” Touch interrupted. “I meant all of this. You don’t deserve any of what you’ve been given.”

Lyra gently laid her vodka cup back on the tray of the cooler. “Wha—”

“I know who you are, Heartstrings. You wandered straight out of university and tried to apply for a top-level position. And to make it more insulting, it had to be here as opposed to the other four you went to. Did you think the fifth would be the charm?”

“Wh-what do you mean, ‘insulting’?” Lyra stuttered.

Touch slowly approached Lyra as he continued. “I graduated two years ago. I started in the mail room and finally got a chance to work in the writers’ room. I have to work a night job at a diner to help pay bills. But you... you got everything you wanted served to you on a platter, and you don’t even have the decency to take help. You want to work all on your own - is that it?”

Lyra sheepishly smiled. “Well I think there’s a racoon in here somewhere.” Her smile quickly disappeared when she heard a growl come out of Touch’s mouth.

“Let me get this straight,” he started, pointing towards the writers’ room. “You have a room full of incredibly talented and experienced writers who want nothing more than for you to succeed, and for your show to go on and do great things... and you want to go in there, and tell them no?”

Lyra froze in place, her face stuck in a state of horrified realization. Her eyes lowered to the ground, and she hung her head. She looked back up at Touch, who was still staring at her with the same look of frustration. Inhaling deeply, she trotted past him, heading straight into the writers’ room.

Everypony in the room anxiously looked on as Lyra took her seat. Taking a moment to clear the lump from her throat, Lyra spoke. “You’re here to help. And I didn’t accept it. And even if I didn’t, more ponies are gonna come in and put their hooves in this as well, regardless of what I do. But you’re here with me, now, trying to make this as good as it can be. And I said no.” She looked up with a sincere look on her weary brow. “May I take it back?”

Ink and Feather smiled and nodded. “S’all right,” Ink said, nodding. “I remember the first time I sent in a spec script in days of Talk to the Hoof. They didn’t even give me a proper critique. They just said ‘Stop.’”

“Was it spelled S-T-A-H-P?” Vinyl asked, chuckling.

“The point is, we understand how hard it can be take criticism. Especially when it’s something that’s your baby,” added Feather.

Lyra glanced over to Short Hoof, who was leaning back in her seat, not showing any real emotion. “Whatever,” Short said, shrugging. “Just keep the bitching to a minimum, OK?”

Lyra chuckled and nodded before looking over to Vinyl. “Hey, Vinyl? You ready to try that experiment of yours?”

“Hold on a second.” Vinyl got off her seat and walked over to the vodka cooler in the corner of the room. Rotating her head around, she poured the contents straight into her mouth for a disturbingly long period of time. Finally pulling herself away, she returned to her seat and burped. “I am now.”


The orange late afternoon sky bounced off all the windows in the lot as Lyra exited W.P-04.

Natural light hasn’t hurt this much since college. Looking back to the office, she saw the other staff writers follow her out. Ink and Feather trotted up to Lyra, side by side.

“Thanks for being patient with us,” Feather said before yawning.

Lyra chuckled nervously. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

Keeping their heads still, the couple looked at each other, holding a straight expression. “Ya’ll have a good night, Miss Heartstrings,” Ink said as he nodded his head.

As the couple walked off, Lyra spotted Short Hoof carrying an unconscious Vinyl Scratch on her back. “I’m going to get this one home before she starts remixing her own vomit.”

Lyra smiled and waved. “Nice meeting you, Short Hoof!”

“I’m sure it was,” Short replied as she carried the DJ off into the distance.

With no one left to say goodbye to, Lyra started trotting through the lot, heading straight for front gate, keeping her eyes as best shielded from the horrible, life-giving sun.

“Lyra! Over here!” called Bon Bon as she ran over to Lyra, stopping short before running into here. “We found her!”

“You found who?” Lyra asked, almost nervous about it.

“Clair. We found your Clair!” Bon Bon’s eyes were almost the size of the sun in the sky. “I know we were gonna consult with you before we cast anyone, but trust me, you’ll love this.”

Stepping to her side, Bon Bon revealed a white and purple unicorn approach from behind. “Honestly, Miss Bon, I should let you know that I’m not accustomed to running, or most physical activity.”

Oh, Celestia, no.

Bon Bon extended her hoof towards the beautiful unicorn. “Lyra, this is Rarity. You probably recognize her as one of the Elements of Harmony.”

Rarity offered her hoof. “A pleasure, darling.”

Lyra stood frozen in time for a moment before finally smiling, offering her hoof to Rarity. “Nice to meet you, too. It’s an honor to meet one of the Elements of Harmony.”

“Please, the honour is mine. I saw a casting call in an entertainment magazine a few days ago, so I thought, why not? My sister Sweetie Belle loves Pub programs, so I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic when I return home.”

“I’m... I’m sure she will be,” Lyra said, struggling to make eye contact.

“Oh.” Rarity turned to Bon Bon. “Remember to send me the negotiating meeting details tomorrow. I’ll need to organize my time in Canterlot, and that will certainly help.”

“No problem, Rarity. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Certainly,” Rarity trotted off and waved to her new employers. “Good evening, Lyra. I glad I can be part of the team.”

When Rarity had her back to them, Lyra allowed her face to become blank.

“This. Is. Perfect!” Bob Bon insisted.

Lyra nodded. “Yup.”

“She’s fashion oriented, kinda shallow, speaks elegantly—”

“Yup.”

“And she’s an Element of Harmony. I mean... can you imagine the ratings we’re bound to get?”

“Yup.”

“I mean, she’s perfect, she’s...” Bon Bon’s voice trailed off, leaving a space of dead silence. Looking bemused, she stared straight at Lyra. “You based Clair off of her, didn’t you?”

“Yup.”


Next: Standard Deviation!