Chapter 5: Day 5
Day 5
Lots and lots of talking today. Not unexpected, but trying nonetheless. I feel like going for a gallop or bucking something. Out with it.
I never saw Derpy. There was a noise (oh, right, doorbell!), but when I opened the door, there was nopony, just my mail on the doorstep. I’ll have to track her down this weekend. Our conversation last night was... unfinished, to say the least.
I’m still trying to figure out what happened, and what exactly I’m thinking; she did have a point. But ponies are just sentient organics; they think and take action based on what benefits them, and what they can’t list reasons for, they file under “emotion.” All I have to do is dig up my true reasons for doing this. Why is this so hard?
Ugh, distracted.
My first visitor was not whom I was expecting.
“Bonbon? What can I do for you today?” I asked upon answering the knock at my door.
“Umm...” She looked over her shoulder. “Can we talk about it inside?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied, curiosity aroused.
In the office, she sat in an armchair. “I know you’re a psychologist, but you’re the closest thing Ponyville has to relational help... and actually, this might call for expertise in your field too.”
I took my folding chair in my signature style. “Does this have to do with last night?”
Which would have been Thursday night, for those of you who didn’t read the label on this entry.
“Yes,” she squeaked, blushing.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Well, things started off well, wine with a nice dinner, music, and then we went to the... bedroom...” Her blush deepened.
“And things went... very well... there too,” she said, and then turned nasty. “Until she was ‘interrupted’ by a ‘equestria-shattering’ discovery in her ‘research.’”
“What?”
“Lyra is obsessed with finding ‘humans.’”
Humans... I didn’t know much about those. Not my field. All I knew really was they were some obscure controversial subject that archaeologists and anthropologists argued about.
“Um, what?”
“Well, we were doing the usual stuff, head to haunches and the whole bit, when-”
“Please spare me the details,” I said, rather quickly. Too much information is too much.
“Oh, sorry. Anyway, Lyra’s always been into this kind of stuff a bit, which is normally fine, just a little quirk of hers. But recently...” Bonbon shook her head. “It’s been getting worse.”
“Do you have any idea as to what might have caused this? Did anything significant happen?”
“Well... I’d stay it started interfering with her life and relationships, oh... about when she came back from Everfree Forest with that weird shiny, glowing box thing.”
“What now?”
“It’s about as thick as this,” she said, indicating a magazine, “and maybe as tall as a can and as wide as a serving spoon. The one side glows and the other side is black with an apple emblem. Heard of anything like it?”
I shook my head.
“Hmm. Anyway, she wouldn’t stop messing with it for four hours straight, until it finally stopped glowing. She’s been particularly bad since then.”
I tapped my hooves together in thought. “Perhaps she thinks it is evidence?”
Bonbon scoffed. “Whether humans exist or not is irrelevant. She’s putting it before priorities, like real life, relationships... eating...”
“Just remember, she doesn’t realize she’s doing it.”
“...That’s not very concrete advice.” Ah. One of those ‘tell me what to do step by step’ ponies.
“Okay... where does she spend her time and what is she actually doing?” I asked. Seemed like as good a place as any to start.
“She’s got an entire lab in the basement, and that’s where she is if she’s not in the kitchen. I don’t know what she does down there, and don’t really want to.”
My eyes closed as my brain began forming a plan. “She has equipment down there?”
“Yeah. Some heavy stuff.”
“Perfect!” I said. “If she can’t take it with her, then all she needs is a little physical barrier to break the course of this wave.”
“That wouldn’t work,” Bonbon replied, waving a hoof. “Humans are her passion.”
“Not her only passion. Do you think you can take it till the 29th?”
I revealed my deal with her marefriend and explained the reasoning behind my plan. “The 29th is this Sunday. When Lyra takes you to Canterlot, if you play your cards right, you should be able to impress music and love over humans and basement labs.”
Bonbon nodded eagerly.
“Well, not to be rude, but I need to eat lunch...”
“Oh! Allow me!”
“What?”
Bonbon winced slightly. “Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. Lyra thinks I’m over here teaching you to cook.”
Oh, nice. But I wasn’t about to turn down a chance at something besides canned carrots. Long story short, we ate and she left, after extracting a promise for dinner at their house.
I had just finished drying the last dish, when a strange...
...oh. Doorbell.
This time, it was my expected guest. Tossing the dish rag over the faucet, I trotted to the door and opened it for the two unicorns.
“So,” began Twilight, wiping her hooves, “shall we take a look at your collection?”
Behind her, Rarity drew a smile on her face with a hoof and winked.
“Uh, oh! Yes, of course. I’ve got most of my library on the shelves in the office...”
I indicated the way, allowing Twilight to proceed ahead of me, while I fell back to Rarity’s position.
“It was the only way I could-”
“It’s fine. Believe me, the couch is the hardest place to get the truth.”
We followed Twilight into the sun-filled room, where Twilight was already pulling books off the shelves with her magic. She opened one of the many that floated around her, flipping through the table of contents. I stepped lightly up to her side.
“You have a good eye,” I complimented, seeing the book she was looking through: The Pony Mind: A Reason for Everything. “Do you have a particular interest in psychology?”
“Not specifically, but I always like to understand how things work, when there’s an explanation available.”
“A crucial element when pursuing science, though.”
She nodded in absent-minded compliance as she scanned the index of a new book.
“Here’s a philosophical question: why should we desire to understand things?”
She stopped reading and looked at me for a second. “Psychology is the study of the mind; you should know the answer to that.”
Actually, strictly speaking, ‘psych-’ is from the Latin meaning something closer to ‘soul’ than ‘mind.’ But nevermind.
“I do, but I want to hear your answer.”
“Well,” she contemplated, closing the book, “We can fix things if we know how they work.”
“...which assumes they’re broken.”
“Yes. Everything breaks from time to time.”
Okay, this wasn’t working. Time to switch tactics.
“And who decides if something is broken?”
“Huh?”
“If you can get away with robbing a bank, why shouldn’t you?”
“Wha-? Cause it’s wrong!”
“And what defines what is right and wrong?”
“The authorities, obviously.”
Gotcha. See, at this point, most ponies try to explain to me that there are fundamental right and wrong. Twilight’s response gave me an insight into what she values–specifically, the opinion of those whose position she considers superior. More than likely, she still has personal moral standards of right and wrong, but in her current state she would, ironically, probably bend those rules to appease those whom she previously developed a high opinion for.
In other words, pressure to succeed. To be the best of the best. The best student–forever.
But, this is just what I extrapolated from one reply to one question. I’m not about to draw conclusions yet–consider this a hypothesis.
She continued, backtracking as she realized how forthcoming her rather severe answer had been. “...I mean, they’re the ones enforcing it... and, um, are elected by popular opinion...”
She pretended to get distracted in a book.
Conversation past this point was relatively trivial, and after a time she asked to borrow a few books and they took their leave. A start, at least. I think I’ll write a report to the Princess tomorrow.
After their exodus, I decided to head out. It was still too early for dinner, but I felt drained after my talks today, both of which had called for improvisation on the spot. My energy was taxed. Time for some caffeine.
So I went out and parked my plot at the first decent coffee shop I came across. At least Ponyville has some decent material where those are concerned.
It had been a few minutes, and I was nearing the bottom of my Double-Caramel Mocha-Latte, staring into space dully, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning, I saw a unicorn mare with an azure, sky blue coat and a mane split between silver and navy blue. Her similarly (yet slightly grayer) blue eyes blinked.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh, it’s nothing important, I was just walking by and happened to notice that we have identical cutie marks!”
She shifted to show me her flank, which true to Celestia herself, had a cutie mark that was exactly the same as mine.
“Uh, uh...” I stammered.
She was taking it a bit better. “This is so cool! We should, like, start up business together, or something. I mean seriously, identical talents? How cool is that?”
At that moment I was kind of shocked that it was possible and depressed that I wasn’t unique, all at once. “Uh, um...”
“We’ll be like the ‘Pied Pipers of Ponyville’ or something.”
“Wait, what?” The words came out as I was thinking them.
She stopped short, mid-breath. “You’ve don’t know who the Pied Piper is? He was-”
“I know who the Pied Piper supposedly was, I just don’t see how that has anything to do with psychology.”
“Psychology? Huh?”
“What?”
“What the hay are you talking about?”
“What the hay are you talking about?” I groaned, and banged my head on the table. “Let’s start over. Hello, my name is Doctor Whooves. What’s yours?”
“I’m Colgate.”
“Like the-”
“Yes, like the toothpaste,” she snapped. “What’s your special gift, Whoofy?”
“Whooves, Doctor Whooves,” I said, grinding my teeth. “My special talent is looking into a pony’s past and helping them fix their problems. Yours?”
“Sleep.”
“Your special talent is sleeping?”
“Well not just me doing it, idiot. I can help anypony get to sleep, sleep better, sleep longer, that kinda stuff too.”
Oh. The sandpony. Hourglass. Kinda makes sense.
“Oh.”
“Huh.”
We sat opposite one another at the small table, reviewing everything we knew about cutie marks, and everything we knew about our talents, and everything we knew about the other pony’s talent, occasionally glancing between our cutie marks.
“I could use another drink. Want something?”
“Sure. Double-Mocha Caramel-Latte.”
Okay, that was just plain creepy.
Not to mention the look the mare at the register gave me.
“Look, you named these stupid drinks, not me!” I reminded her. She frowned but gave me the goods, with which I returned to the table.
“So now what?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, do we get a prize or award? Or will they shove us in a lab and run experiments on us? Are we gonna be on the lam for the rest of our lives, fugitives from, um, justice...”
“I’m fairly certain Her Majesty the Princess wouldn’t sanction something like that,” I said, rolling my eyes. “However, I would be interested to know if this has ever happened before... especially because we have the same cutie marks with different meanings.”
Another period of silence while we sipped our beverages.
I stood up. “Well, I should be getting back. See you later, perhaps.”
“Wait,” she said, standing up too. “Unless you’re busy or something, why don’t you come back to my place?”
“I do kind of have dinner plans, actually...”
Her ears went flat.
“...but I could make it Sunday.”
Ears up. Plus smile and shining eyes.
“Okay!” She gave me an address, and we went our ways.
I showed up at Lyra and Bonbon’s early, around four.
“Oh, hey! You’re just in time!” said Lyra, opening the door.
“I... am?” I replied, coming in.
“Yep. I figured that, since Bonbon’s teaching you, I might as well join in too.”
Oh. Right. Except, I didn’t know anything other than what I had happened to see Bonbon doing.
“Brilliant!”
In the kitchen, Bonbon was flipping nonchalantly through a magazine, bored, and answering Lyra’s constant questions. For her part, the unicorn was enthusiastically alternating between consulting cookbooks and floating half a dozen pans in the air as she attempted to coordinate timing. I took up my usual position of handing her ingredients.
Lyra actually did a good job. What is it about mares and talking themselves down? I, on the other hand, only get credit for the slightly burned asparagus.
I excused myself after an appropriate period of time and consumption, had passed, and returned home.
This is the first night I’ve had a bit of leisure, I think. Time to dig out the Flank Sinatra records.
And tomorrow’s the weekend. Finally some free time away from all this chaos.
I just got one of those chills that a pony gets when they unwittingly tell a lie. Shoot.
Whooves off.
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lol
Ok would tell you that your characterization is great, but that is kind of the point of the story. Instead I will just say that I'm looking forward to more for now.
Oooooo, the plot thickens. Can't wait for more!
♫♥I look forward to reading what happens next in your story♥♪
Colgate and Whooves- Fugitives
FLANK Sinatra? FLANK. Sinatra. Wow. Marvelous.
Once again, you, sir, are an inspiration.
160103 How he use low fat dresing!!
I see. This sounds familiar to some technology we know.