//------------------------------// // 6. Working Class Hero (rw) // Story: Tales of the Oppressed // by Terran34 //------------------------------// The work is every bit as difficult and strenuous as expected. Initially, the job appeared to be simple and thoughtless, requiring nothing more than physical effort on my part, yet as time goes on, my muscles grow heavy and burn like fire with every exertion. A thin sheen of sweat soon coats my body, soaking into the denim of my jeans, covering my upper body, and rolling down my brow. It’s a good thing it’s only chilly and not freezing just yet, or I would certainly catch something. To add to the ever increasing discomfort, my side aches painfully as well. The task is very repetitive and dull. According to Applejack, the whole apple orchard needs to be harvested before the winter comes and the snow starts to fall. Considering the size of this orchard, there’s possibly hundreds of apple trees that still need to be harvested before then. I have to stifle my groans, knowing that this difficult monotonous job is going to be my whole afternoon. Every hour or so, the wagon becomes filled to capacity, requiring Applejack and I to return to the central area where the barn is located in order to store the harvested apples. After Applejack leads me to a cellar located underneath the main barn, the two of us unload the baskets of apples and empty them into tightly packed barrels, which are then sealed. It’s colder down here than it is outside, likely for the same reason Twilight’s library remains warm in this weather. It’s somewhat interesting to see, as I’ve never been familiar with how apples were stored during the winter. Moving on to Applejack herself, she’s not an overbearing taskmaster. Her diction is rather unspecific and rustic; for example, sometimes she’ll use general terms to describe certain objects. Despite this, it’s usually clear as to what she’s referring to, and doesn’t detract from her overall meaning. She’s very efficient and to the point, her words leaving little room for interpretation. She also does a great job at keeping me in working order, as she regularly stops by the living area to fill up provided canteens with water to bring with us. She’s not stupid; she knows that it’s vital we stay hydrated. The only issue I have with Applejack is her attempts to make friendly conversation. She hasn’t asked anything too personal just yet, so it’s been simple for me to deflect her attempts with short, clipped answers or grunts, but if she’s like any of the other ponies, it’s only a matter of time. “Alright, Seth, let’s take a short break,” Applejack announces partly after we return from one of our unloading trips. Judging from the position of the sun in the sky, I estimate four hours have passed since we’ve started working. Even though it’s only been such a short time, I’m exhausted, and it takes every last ounce of willpower not to sigh in relief at the welcome respite. Applejack snickers as she watches me slide my back down against a tree. My breathing is clearly audible and doesn’t come to me easily, my chest heaving. “You ain’t done an honest day’s work in your whole life, have you?” she observes with an amused smile. Standing in stark contrast to my sorry state, Applejack’s breathing is steady and composed. “Is it that obvious?” I can’t help but say, sarcasm finding its way into my voice. Applejack just chuckles as she sits down on her haunches beside me. “If you’re worried about my ability to continue, don’t be. I’m not giving up.” “That’s good to hear. I reckon you’ll get a lot stronger by the end of the harvest season,” Applejack reasons. “All this exercise can only do you good.” I know she’s right, yet it doesn’t make me feel any better. It’s difficult to feel optimistic about what could happen in the future when there’s nothing but pain to come. I certainly hope this gets easier… though I should keep it realistic. I likely won’t be here long enough to reap any benefits from repeated workouts like this. As for how long that’ll be... “Applejack,” I pant after taking a long draught from my canteen. Applejack glances over curiously. “It’s probably rude of me to ask, but how much are you willing to pay me for this?” “That ain’t rude. It’s only natural you’d want to know. I doubt you’re here for the fun of it,” Applejack teases me gently, tilting her hat so that it shades her eyes from the sun. I do my best to keep from rolling my eyes. “I figured I’d give you a bit for every hour you work. It ain’t much, but y’all get breaks and dinner included in that. Provided that the breaks are short of course.” “A bit every hour?” That sounds abysmally low, even for a minimum wage employee. Granted, I say that assuming the one to one basis, in which case I’d be making a dollar an hour. This time, however, I have to ask. “How much is a bit actually worth?” “Right, I forgot you ain’t from Equestria,” Applejack recalls, nodding understandingly. “One bit’ll get you about ten or twelve apples, depending on size and season of course.” “I see,” I respond, mulling over her answer. I haven’t bought any apples personally, nor did I pay much attention in passing when I went to shop for groceries during my era, so I’m not certain how well that translates into American currency. However, ten apples is enough food to get me through a majority of the day while hydrating me at the same time. “Speaking of apples,” Applejack glances at one of the baskets that we just finished filling. With a quick flick of her hoof, she opens her mouth wide enough to chomp down on the apple whole, her strong jaws crushing it to pieces. The mare appears extremely satisfied with the morsel, apple juice trickling down her chin. “Mm-mm! Delicious!” “You sure you can eat your own merchandise like that?” I question her, raising an eyebrow at the sight. Applejack wipes off her chin with a hoof and swallows. “It’s no big deal,” she dismisses. When she notices me looking less than satisfied by that answer, she continues. “With all these apples we harvest, we’re bound to get more than we can sell. So it’s fine if we eat an apple here and there.” “So you’re saying your farm regularly produces surplus crop,” I reiterate to make sure I understand her correctly. Applejack nods in confirmation. “That makes sense, I suppose.” With that in mind, I take one of the apples as well. If what she’s saying is true, then I’d technically be doing her a favor by reducing the surplus crop. At the very least, she made it clear that food was included in the pay. With that in mind, I bite into the apple greedily, finding the flavour rich and delicious. “Good, aren’t they? Nothing beats a nice juicy apple fresh off the tree!” Applejack proclaims, beaming as I continue to devour the apple in an attempt to sate my burning hunger. Eventually, however, we do have to get back to work. “Anyhow, let’s get back to it. Those trees ain’t gonna buck themselves.” I nod and rise to my feet, doing my best to choke back a pained groan from the lingering fatigue. I follow Applejack back to the cart, doing my best to finish the apple in my hand before returning to work. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask: you’re new to Equestria, right? How are you liking the place?” Applejack asks me conversationally while we head to the next tree. I shake my head, unsurprised at the question. I knew she was going to ask me something like this sooner or later. I have nothing purely positive to say, but I can’t exactly tell her my true feelings. “Hard to say. I’ve never been anywhere outside of Ponyville,” I reply. The two of us pull up to the next tree, and our conversation continues throughout our work. “That’s as good a place to start as any,” Applejack responds amicably. “Ponyville’s a nice place with some nice folks; it’s hard to come up with anything to complain about. Don’t you agree?” “I… can’t say I share your opinion.” There was no way to get around that question without lying, so I have to tell the truth as best as I can without alienating her. I still need her for this job. “Why’s that?” Applejack isn’t looking at me due to our efforts placing the baskets, though I can hear the curiosity in her voice. “To be honest, every pony I’ve met has either been rather… eccentric.” That’s not exactly the right use of that word, but it’s the nicest way I can express how frustrating these ponies have been in their attempts to be friendly. “In one case, a pony was actually rather abrasive.” “Abrasive? She didn’t happen to brag a lot, did she?” Applejack comments wryly. “She did, now that you mention it. Why, do you know her?” I answer readily, glad for the change in topic to someone other than myself. “That’s probably Rainbow Dash. She’s a little rough around the edges, but her heart’s in the right place. She’s a good friend of mine.” Applejack reveals with a knowing chuckle. I suppress the growing wave of unease that passes through me after hearing that. I wasn’t exactly kind to Rainbow. In the worst case, I’ll have to find a new job if she ends up telling Applejack about my harsh words. “I’m surprised you never mentioned Pinkie Pie. Haven’t you met her yet?” “You know, I keep hearing that name. Every pony seems to talk about her fondly, yet I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her,” I respond, interested enough to ask. “Though usually the word ‘party’ is involved whenever her name comes up.” “Sounds about right. That’s what she’s known for, apart from just being friendly to everypony in general,” Applejack confirms with a grin. “Though I’m surprised you never met her. She’s usually the first pony to know about newcomers.” “Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps she’s so busy getting ready for the party tonight that she has little time for somebody new?” I suggest, lifting a filled basket up onto the cart. I then have to rest for a second, my breath coming heavily once more. “Trust me, she always makes time for a new friend. You should drop by her house and say hello! You can’t miss her; bright pink coat, frizzy mane, balloons for a cutie mark,” Applejack describes for me. As I lift another basket up from the ground, I find that I recognize that description. I can’t keep from scowling somewhat after the memory returns to me of the pink pony who had knocked me over yesterday. That’s the pony that everyone considers the friendliest in Ponyville? I’m not exactly impressed with what I experienced. “I’ll...keep that in mind,” I concede, not wanting to continue that particular topic. Unfortunately, the conversation soon takes a turn for the worse when Applejack brings up the inevitable. “Speaking of friends, what about you? You made any friends since coming to Ponyville?” Applejack questions me as we finish loading the back. I pause, sighing heavily. That’s as personal as it gets. Politeness has done me well so far, but I’m beginning to realize that it only makes other ponies think I’m open to these sorts of questions. “Not really,” I admit to her. Together, the two of us move the cart to the next tree, making steady progress. “I haven’t exactly been looking for any, either.” “That’s a downright shame. You seem like a decent enough sort,” Applejack responds with a frown. I release a breath of disbelief. Just as I thought, she’s mistaken my politeness for friendliness. There’s only one way to handle this now. “Tell you what, how about I introduce you to my friends after we’re finished?” “No thank you. Firstly, I am busy with a second job tonight and don’t have time to kill. Secondly, I won’t be in town for that long. I’m gathering enough money for travel expenses, and then I’m leaving Ponyville,” I reveal to her as we position the baskets around the next tree. “I suppose that makes sense. I don’t see no reason why you can’t have some fun while you’re here, though,” Applejack points out to me, the mare refusing to let me off easy. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not argue about it,” I return, making sure to keep my voice level and edgeless. It’s getting increasingly harder to remain diplomatic. I decide to finish the conversation in a way that would hammer my point home. “I appreciate your attempt, but you’re my boss and I’m your temporary employee. Perhaps we could leave it at that.” That one sentence makes it very clear to Applejack exactly where the two of us stand. She pauses just before bucking the tree and gives me a lingering gaze, her lips forming a disappointed frown. “Okay. If that’s what you want, I guess I can respect that,” Applejack finally concedes, and she returns to her work. With a swift grunt, she bucks the tree hard, dislodging any apples in its branches into the waiting baskets below. I walk towards the first basket, feeling relieved. I suppose at the end of the day, Applejack isn’t the worst pony I’ve had to deal with in Ponyville. She’s been reasonable, level headed, and hasn’t tried to force her friendship on me as much as the others have. If it stays like this, my work here will be much easier to deal with from now on… until it’s time for me to leave Ponyville. From then on, things are quiet between Applejack and I. The only conversation between us consists of her working with me to position the baskets correctly. It suits me just fine, and allows me to focus better on my work. The rest of the workday passes agonizingly slowly, pushing me to the very brink of my stamina and endurance. If it weren’t for the short breaks giving me time to rest, the occasional apple soothing my hunger, and the constant water supply keeping me hydrated, I’d have collapsed from exhaustion a long time ago. When the sun begins its descent towards the horizon and the sky begins to darken, Applejack at last allows us to call it a day. It’s difficult not to cry out in relief; currently it feels as though my body is made of lumps of heavy iron, with burning molten lead searing through my veins. Every slight movement causes me pain. “Let’s get the cart back to the barn,” Applejack directs me once we’ve finished unloading the current haul into the storage cellar. “You did good today, Seth. How are you holding up?” “About… as well… as you’d expect…” I grunt miserably, much to Applejack’s amusement. I knew this was going to be hell, but it wasn’t as though I had a better choice. I didn’t have the time to leisurely search through the town for a better, easier job. “We’ll get some muscle on you yet,” Applejack chuckles, tapping my aching leg briefly with a forehoof. “Er… provided you’re still in town of course. Any estimate on when you’re leaving? Hopefully not before the harvest ends, right?” At that last question, Applejack turns her head to face me and puts on a hopeful wide smile. I assume she wants me to stay until then to make her workload easier. “I’m not entirely sure,” I answer honestly. I still have to determine the worth of an actual bit, calculate the total pay I earn per week, and then discover the cost of traveling further to the north. Once I know all of that, I’ll know how much money I’ll need to accomplish my goal. Once I have all I need, I’m leaving Ponyville, severing any ties I’ve made immediately without a second thought. “I can’t make any promises. At the very least, I’ll be around for a week or two.” “That should be plenty of time. Won’t be long until the snows come, after all,” Applejack assures me. She pauses a moment to open up the main barn, and then the two of us pass into the structure. “Let’s just get the cart up against the wall, and that’ll be it.” This is my first time seeing the inside of the barn, so I take a moment to glance around. There isn’t much to see, however. The barn is mostly empty, with a wide open expanse of hay stretching over the majority of the floor. On the other end of the room, there’s a ladder leading up to a small loft area, which is supported by multiple white pillars engraved with simple decorative designs. The walls are lined with multiple layers of wooden shelves, each containing various farm tools and equipment, such as pitchforks, sickles, and shears. There are bales of hay stacked up in one corner, and on the other end of the room, there’s an aisle of hay that’s separated from the rest of the barn by a painted wooden partition. Once the two of us manage to maneuver the cart against the wall as she wanted, Applejack steps back with an approving nod. “Right, that takes care of that,” she affirms. With that, I rest my back against the wall, attempting to catch my breath. Applejack notes my exhaustion with amusement, but doesn’t comment on it. “Anyhow, come on inside while I get your pay.” Even though I’m far from collected, the thought of payment spurs me into motion. I make sure to grab my rifle from where I left it in the cart and then fall in step beside Applejack, following her through a door in the far left corner of the barn. I find myself stepping through a short hallway into a living area of rustic design, consisting of a rectangular room with oak wooden floors and soft beige walls, a circular orange rug covers the floor in the center of the room. On the walls hang multiple framed pictures of different sizes depicting a wide variety of different ponies. The windows are set into the far wall, decorated with teal drapes. Through them, I’m able to gaze out over the farm. To my right after exiting the barn, I note a narrow staircase set into the back wall leading to a second floor. Additionally, there’s an opening in the wall on the right leading into a dining hall adjoined to a sizable kitchen. From that direction, I hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing. The apple-laden scent of cooking food drifts in from the kitchen causing my mouth to water. “Granny Smith, isn’t dinner ready yet? I’m hungry!” Apple Bloom calls into the kitchen, the yellow filly bounding down the stairs. Her coat and mane are slightly damp, suggesting that she’s recently washed. “It’ll be ready when it’s ready, little Bloom! Have some patience!” An elderly female voice screeches in from the kitchen in time with the clattering of dishes. “If you really want it sooner, come in and set the table!” “Okay, I’m coming!” Apple Bloom declares, and then she zips past me to the kitchen, greeting me briefly as she goes. “Hi, Seth!” Applejack chuckles at the scene and moves towards the front door. She opens it briefly and pokes her head outside. “Big Mac! Put those ears of corn in the cellar and come on in for the night! It’s getting dark and dinner’s almost done!” she announced. Once the larger stallion had acknowledged her, she shut the door and walked over to the stairs. “I’m gonna grab your pay from upstairs. Be just a sec.” I sigh and recline against the wall, wanting more than anything to find someplace comfortable to rest. I do my best to keep from thinking about the fact that I’m going to be repeating this misery the next morning. The front door soon opened to reveal Big MacIntosh, the stallion’s fur matted with perspiration. It looks as though he’s been working as hard as we have. Upon spotting me, he gives a short nod. “How was your first day?” he asks simply, closing the door behind him. “Exhausting, to say the least,” I answer. Big MacIntosh nods understandingly. “Seems about right,” is all he says before he heads for the stairs. That was a rather short conversation, but that suits me just fine. As the big stallion climbs the stairs, I can feel the vibrations of his heavy hooves plodding on the wood through the wall. I hear the sound of running water above a few moments later, suggesting that Big MacIntosh was next in line for a wash. Not long after that, Applejack returns from upstairs, carrying a small sack in her mouth. She drops the sack into my waiting hand, the currency inside jangling upon landing. “There you go! Six bits. You earned them,” Applejack announces with a pleased smile. “You going to be back tomorrow morning?” “Most likely. How early do you want me?” I reply, dreading the answer. “Probably around eight o’clock, if you can manage that,” Applejack supplies helpfully. “I can do that.” I nod, accepting that. Eight in the morning is pretty standard for a job. I’ll be working longer than I did today, assuming we stop at the same time, which means more money (and more pain) for me. That aside, now that I’ve accepted my pay, I have no further reason to remain. “Now then, if you’ll excuse me.” “Hold up just a moment. Dinner’s just about done; you wanna come in and share a bite?” Applejack offers just as my hand is reaching for the door. “It’s included as part of your pay if you want it.” I pause, thinking that over. She’s right that she promised food as well as money, but I’m not too keen on the idea of dinner with her family. I’ve always preferred to eat alone… but that’s hardly a justification for turning down her offer. “No thank you. With how many apples you let me eat, I think you’ve more than made up for that obligation,” I reason. It’s a weak excuse at best… but I don’t want to eat with them. In the best case, I’d end up excluding myself and letting them pretend I wasn’t there, but in the worst case… they might start expecting my presence. I’m leaving Ponyville eventually. I’d prefer not to leave with strings attached. “I suppose that’s true. You did eat quite a few. You must have been hungry,” Applejack admits with a snicker. She changes tack, giving me a friendly smile. “Then how about you come eat with us just because we have an empty seat?” “No thank you,” I repeat simply without a second thought, and then I turn my back and move for the door. “Okay. See you tomorrow morning!” Applejack calls after me, not sounding perturbed in the least by my repeated refusals. Without anything left to stop me, I hoist open the door and step outside into the chilly air. I shudder involuntarily once I leave the barn behind. It’s growing rapidly darker, and the temperature is quickly dropping. The ground around my feet is still dry, but the air smells of rain, supporting Flitter’s early prediction of a coming storm. I certainly hope six bits in addition to Vinyl’s payment is enough to afford lodging for a night. If not… I’m going to be hard-pressed to survive the coming night. I set myself back on the path that leads to town, resigning myself to the long walk back. In the meantime, perhaps I can learn something about this era’s currency. I tuck my rifle beneath my arm and open the sack, fishing around for one of the bits. I feel soft metal brushing against my fingers briefly before I withdraw a bit. There’s just enough light to make out the details of the small round coin. The color of the coin is golden, seeming rich enough in luster to compare to real gold. Attempting to scratch the metal proves fruitless, suggesting that if there is gold involved in the coin’s creation, it’s likely as part of an alloy of some sort. On one side of the coin is the engraved image of a fiery sun, with a strange inscription written in Equestrian just beneath it. On the other side is the image of a regal pony with a long flowing mane and a lengthy horn. Atop her head rests an ornate crown, complete with what looks to be a gemstone set into the front. Given the presence of the sun on the other side and the pony’s crown, I can only draw the conclusion that I’m looking at the Solar Princess. Despite the fact that it’s pony currency, it’s always interesting to see the currency of another country. It’s ironic that I enjoy learning more about civilization through observation rather than through interaction with its citizens. Even that will pass, however. Once I leave to deal with Sombra, it won’t matter much about the civilization I leave behind. My mood dampened by that somber thought, I continue on my path to the town. I can see lights in the distance, alerting me to Ponyville’s increasing proximity. Now that I can see the town, I turn my thoughts to my next order of business. I told Vinyl she could find me by the bridge in the town square, so once I reach the town proper, I make that my next destination. With luck, after I help Vinyl set up her equipment, I’ll be able to use the rest of the party to relax and wind down, provided I can find a quiet corner somewhere. I don’t know much about the parties that Pinkie throws, but the last thing I want is a super loud and obnoxious party. I make my way into the square, aiming for the bridge. The ponies are still reacting to my presence with bemusement and awe, though every time I walk through town, their reactions are less and less noticeable. Some of them even try to catch my eye in an attempt to talk, but I stubbornly refuse to glance their way or divert my path. Once I reach the bridge, I sit down with a pained grunt on a nearby bench that faces the river. It takes all of my mental discipline not to pitifully sprawl out on the bench. This is the first time I’ve been able to get off my feet since I began work at Applejack’s farm. I sit there for several minutes until my breath returns to me. Before I know it, my phone is out in front of me. I realize what I’ve done and shake my head, lowering the device. I must have retrieved it out of habit; I always used to do something on my phone to kill time when waiting for something. The phone is useless now, apart for what operates locally. According to the still ticking clock, it’s almost seven. I also notice that the battery has dropped much lower than before. My mood further declines. As I thought, not even airplane mode combined with the low power setting will keep my phone running forever. I move to turn off the phone entirely, but a moment of weakness causes me to pause and open up my picture folder instead. I didn’t take pictures that often, but I still had a significant amount, as I never deleted the ones I did take. My pictures dated all the way back to when I first started college,. The most recent one was several months back, when our college held a formal dance to commemorate the opening of the new and improved student hall. Tapping on that image enlarges it to reveal Amaryllis and myself standing by the entrance to the aforementioned student hall, where throngs of students were already filtering inside. Amaryllis was wearing a stunning black dress that accentuated her form nicely, as well as the silver necklace garnished with an emerald green stone that I’d given her a year or so before that. That’s a whole different story, but it suffices to say that I never saw her without it after that. Amaryllis was wearing the closest thing to a smile you’d ever see her wear. For the sake of the picture, her hand had been wrapped about my waist to bring me in closer, which had made me very visibly uncomfortable at the time. That was something you always saw the men doing to the women in these pictures, not the other way around. Yet, as per usual, Amaryllis had always shrugged it off and teased me, saying that it was because I was her “princess.” As for me, I was just wearing a run of the mill suit that you’d find at a store, though it was well maintained, as my mother had insisted on ironing it repeatedly until it was perfect. Despite how flustered I had been to be dragged there by Amaryllis, I was still happy to spend that time with her. In the end, that was all that mattered. I shut my eyes tightly and press the hand that’s still clutching the phone against my forehead, the emptiness in my chest turning into pain after reliving those memories. This piece of technology is all I have left of her and my family. The thought of my phone dying and cutting me off from those memories forever is almost too much to bear. It feels as though a piece of me dies as well as I power off the phone for good. This is the only way to save the battery for a long period of time… but in the end, I suppose it’s the same as losing it. There’s no sign of Vinyl yet. It seems I’ll be waiting here for some time. I return the phone to my pocket and lay my head back on the bench, looking up at the darkening sky. The first thing I notice is the wave of dark clouds sweeping from the east, led by a towering thunderhead. Flitter was right on the money, I suppose. A storm like that will certainly be the death of me if I stay out in the opening. I blink, noticing something odd about the thunderclouds. Small colored dots weave in and out of the cloud with a strange sense of purpose. I have no explanation for this… I’ve never seen anything like that in a thunderstorm. My confusion soon turns to complete shock as I realize what I’m looking at. Each of the colored dots possesses two feathery wings, revealing them to be pegasi. I’m utterly confounded by that sight. Getting that close to a thundercloud could only result in electrocution and likely death. However, the pegasi don’t seem to be in any danger at all. In fact, the opposite is true. My jaw drops when I see the pegasi physically altering the structure of the thunderhead. It seems impossible, but the pegasi appear to be touching and molding the clouds themselves with their hooves and flight patterns. I even notice one pegasus actually pull a clump of cloud from elsewhere in the sky and apply it to the main anvil. I get to my feet, trembling in the face of what I’m seeing. What they’re doing now violates everything I’ve ever been taught about meteorology. Everybody knew that as water was heated, it rose and eventually condensed to form rain. So what in the nine circles of hell am I looking at? The pegasi clearly look to be in control of the storm system, to the point where it even seems as though they’re physically pushing the storm towards the town. My mind flashes back to my conversation with Flitter, where she mentioned that the weather team hadn’t “made the storm” yet. Was she… speaking literally? Does the weather team literally create the weather? “Oh hey, Seth!” I hear a familiar voice address me in the midst of my speechlessness. Lyra, the mare I met outside of the club last night, walks around the bench and smiles at me. Though, of course, I can’t respond to her, as I’m too caught up in the fantastical sight in the skies above me. Lyra waves a hoof in front of me. “Hello? Are you there? Whatcha gawking at?” “Tell me I’m not crazy,” is the first thing I can think of to say. When Lyra tilts her head in confusion, I point up to the thunderhead. “What the hell are those pegasi doing up there by the storm?” Lyra follows my finger until she sees what I’m talking about, but it doesn’t make her look any less confused. “What do you mean? They’re putting the storm together for tonight,” she questions further, as though what I’m seeing is an everyday occurrence. She takes note of my expression. “Did you not know about this?” “Know about what? That pegasi can apparently control the weather? How are you talking about that like it’s normal?” I demand, turning away from the impossible spectacle to face Lyra, who is beginning to look amused by my reaction. “It is normal for us, though. Pegasi have always been in charge of the weather. It’s why we have a weather team. Without them, we’d never have rain,” Lyra answers with a shrug. She giggles at my slack jawed expression. “You should really see your face. Did humans not have a weather team?” “We did, but we predicted the weather, we didn’t cause it!” I snap back. So many questions rush through my mind that my head starts to hurt. What happened to the weather that it needs pegasi to control it now? How do the pegasi determine where the weather should be, and how intense it should be? Does this also include differences in pressure and temperature? How widespread is this weather anomaly? Why is it necessary for a storm so large to be created if it’s under pony control? Does this mean there’s no longer severe weather such as hurricanes or tornadoes? “This is… but that’s… I have too many questions!” I groan, rubbing my now aching head. Lyra just bursts out laughing, entirely too amused at my distress. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself!” “You’re just getting so flustered over this!” Lyra chortles, not even bothering to stifle her laughter in the slightest. “If it’s that big of a deal, just don’t think about it.” “Don’t think about…!?” I sputter incredulously, but then I stop, realizing that I’m losing my composure. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths. “So let me get this straight: pegasi regularly control the weather?” “That’s right. I’m not sure how it all works, but pegasi can touch clouds as if they were solid. They’re just vapor to the rest of us,” Lyra answers, calming down as well. “How did humans handle the weather, if they didn’t control it?” “We didn’t need to control it. Weather acted on its own; we either took countermeasures to avoid flooding or other damage… or in the case of severe weather, we got the hell out of its way,” I reply, seeing no reason to withhold that information. Lyra is answering my questions for me, so I should answer hers in turn. “Oh, interesting. Weather works like that in the Everfree… and I heard it’s wild outside of Equestria too,” Lyra reveals to me, creating yet more questions to which I don’t have the answers. Weather works naturally outside of Equestria? So why are the laws of nature defunct in Equestria, as opposed to everywhere else? “By the way, did you ever get to talk with Vinyl Scratch last night?” “What? Yes, I did,” I answer, surprised at the sudden change in topic. I’m still not over the fact that weather no longer works as I remember it. Yet nevertheless, I suppose I should answer. “I am waiting here to meet her.” “Oh, are you now?” Lyra looks astonished by that. It doesn’t take long before a mischievous smile forms on her face. “Guess you got farther than those other stallions after all. Way to go!” I stifle a gag at the insinuation that Lyra just made. I give her a cold stare through narrowed eyes. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t make jokes. I have neither the time nor the patience,” I berate her sternly. “If you must know, I’m working for her now. My intention was never to ‘chat her up’ like those base stallions to which you refer.” “Wow, talk about a harsh shutdown,” Lyra doesn’t seem chastened at all, the mare snickering behind a hoof. “Calm down, I’m only teasing.” I grunt and turn my gaze away from her. I’m beginning to dislike this mare. The fact that she thinks she can tease me is troublesome enough. “Surely you have something better to do than hang around here making jokes.” I try to make it clear to her that I’ve grown tired of her presence. “I would say I don’t, but now that you mention it, I should probably go get ready for the party tonight,” Lyra replies ruefully, tapping her chin with a hoof. “Are you going to come?” “It’s part of my job with Vinyl now, so I have little choice,” I admit reluctantly. “Cool! I guess I’ll see you then!” Lyra responds excitedly, completely disregarding the annoyance in my previous response. She turns around and starts to trot away, giving me a wave. “I hope you know how to dance!” As Lyra’s retreating form turns into another street, I sit back down and shake my head in dismay. “Did you even hear a word I said?” I emit to no one, disbelief coloring my voice. I don’t know how I can make it any clearer to her that I don’t want to be her friend. Now she apparently wants to dance with me. This can’t possibly get any worse. The wind picks up as the storm closes in, ruffling through my ragged hair and chilling my exposed skin. I shiver, already noticing the gradual drop in temperature as the evening dragged on. The square eventually empties out, the merchant ponies packing up their wares and vacating the area. Some of them join up and leave together, talking and laughing amongst one another. More than once I hear the word “party” from their mouths. I suppose that just goes to prove how popular these parties are, considering half the town seems to enjoy them. At last, I spot Vinyl arriving in the square from one of the other streets, already wearing the sunglasses that I’ve never seen her without. She looks uncertainly around the square for a few moments until she spots me standing up from the bench. She picks up the pace and trots towards me, a smile forming on her face. “Hey, Seth! What’s up?” Vinyl greets me amiably, coming to a stop just in front of me. I give her a terse nod in response. She glances at my skin with a frown. “You look pretty rough, dude. It got pretty cold last night, I heard. You alright?” “I’m fine, more or less. It was cold, but it was nothing I couldn’t recover from,” I answer, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. “My current condition is likely from working on Applejack’s farm.” “Oh, you’re working for her too now?” Vinyl questions curiously. “I need all the money I can get. Whether or not I have down time doesn’t matter to me,” I explain with a shrug. “That’s not a problem, is it?” “Nah, you’re cool. My gigs are in the evenings anyway, so this works out...though I don’t envy your workload,” Vinyl remarks with a wry smirk. “Hope you’re not too exhausted to do a little extra lifting.” “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do what I’m being paid to do,” I sigh, resigning myself to the job ahead. “So where do you keep your equipment in between shows?” “My house! Got a soundproofed room I can practice in whenever I got a free night,” Vinyl answers with a hoof pressed proudly against her chest. A gust of stronger wind sweeps through the square, cutting off whatever she was going to say next. Vinyl wrinkles her nose. “Alright, come on. We need to get my equipment over to Sugarcube Corner before that storm hits.” “Good idea.” I join Vinyl as we walk back to the street from whence she arrived. “Do you have a tarp you can use to cover your equipment, just in case?” “Yup, and I’ve used it before. But do you really want to push my tables through the streets in the pouring rain?” Vinyl points out with distaste. “That’s fair. At least you thought ahead.” After that, we fall silent, our pace quickening as the biting wind blows harder. Vinyl leads me through various streets until we come to a clearing on a grassy hill where a house resides somewhat separated from the others. The lawn looks untidy and untended to, except for a single hedge shaped into a musical eighth note.The house itself is rather nondescript, possessing two stories, wood and plaster walls, and a wooden roof covered with thatch. “Step inside real quick while I get the ramp,” Vinyl directs me, the door opening telekinetically. I do as I’m told, walking through the door into a delightfully warm interior. Vinyl walks in behind me, though she first props the door open with a large smooth stone. “This is my pad! I’d tell you to take a look around and make yourself at home, but I really want to beat this storm.” “You and me both,” I mutter, wanting more than anything to stay and keep warm in here. I take a quick look around, noticing a huge rectangular plastic cart containing Vinyl’s turntables, speakers, and smaller sealed tubs. On both ends of the cart are slender metal bars. Once I’ve tucked the rifle beneath my arm, I walk around to the other end and clasp the bar tightly. “I found your equipment. You about ready to get moving?” “Just about!” Vinyl calls back. As I watch, she produces a wooden ramp from beneath an end table set against the left wall. With her magic, she sents the ramp down just outside the front door, the oddly shaped bottom fitting perfectly against the steps. “Alright, wheel her out. Push from the back, and I’ll handle this end.” I obediently plant my feet and exert my weight towards the cart. My side burns immediately, causing me to hiss sharply with pain. Thankfully, it isn’t long before I feel Vinyl pulling from the other end with her magic. Together, we navigate the cart out through the front door and down the ramp. Once the cart is solidly on level ground, Vinyl lifts up the ramp and sets inside the cart as well. Then, she steps back inside just long enough to produce the tarp we’d spoken of earlier and stretch it over the mouth of the cart. Once she ensures the door is shut tightly behind us, we start to push the cart down the street. The two of us don’t do much talking at first. I don’t have much to say to her, and the wind is blowing so strongly that it’ll be difficult to hear one another before long. The wind, combined with my own attempts to spare my side any undue pain, makes it difficult to maintain a solid grip on my rifle. After the second time adjusting its position, I inadvertently draw Vinyl’s attention. A quiet curse leaves my lips after the third time the rifle slips. Before I can grab it, a magenta aura engulfs the rifle, halting its downward momentum. I let out a small cry when the rifle jerks out of my grip. “Hey, give that back!” I demand, anxiety striking me like a hammer blow. Vinyl raises a brow when she notices my sudden change in demeanor. “Chill out, I’m not stealing it from you or anything,” Vinyl assures me. “You just looked like you were having a hard time keeping ahold of it. You care if I put it in the cart?” The unreasonable urge to decline her offer and take the rifle back forcefully comes over me, proving difficult to suppress. I screw my eyes shut and take a deep breath, telling myself that Vinyl’s suggestion makes sense, and that the rifle will be right in front of me if I need it. I eventually give Vinyl a wordless nod. Vinyl opens up the tarp, flinching at the effort necessary to keep it from blowing away. She swiftly inserts the rifle inside with the rest of her equipment and then closes the tarp back up. “There we go. You can grab it when we’re unloading,” Vinyl affirms, and then she resumes her telekinetic tugging on the front of the cart. “By the way, what is that thing? I’ve never seen you without it, so it must be important.” “It… used to be a weapon, a long time ago. Now it’s just a piece of inert metal,” I hesitantly answer. Vinyl looks intrigued by that. “For real? That’s one funky looking weapon. Bet my mom would love to get her hooves on that,” she declares. “What was it, a club?” “Might as well have been, for all the good it did,” I say bitterly, glaring at the spot in the cart where the rifle lies. “Still, I won’t be getting rid of it.” “I think I got an old guitar strap back at my house. Might make it easier on you if you’re gonna lug it around all the time. Want it?” Vinyl offers after a short awkward silence. “No thank you. You know how I feel about charity,” I return, much to her surprise and annoyance. “Charity? Oh come on, dude, this isn’t charity. I’m just being nice,” Vinyl contests, looking over her shoulder at me. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be stubborn about this too.” “It’s my right to be,” I shoot back. “I don’t intend to take anything from you or anyone, whether it’s a room, guitar strap, or even a blanket.” “Why not? It’s literally nothing major. I was planning on throwing the thing away anyway,” Vinyl appears to be getting rather frustrated. “If I want one, I’ll buy one when I have the means.” I don’t give any ground, earning an annoyed huff from her. “Why do you make it so hard to be nice to you?” Vinyl demands insistently. “I’d really rather not get into that discussion right now,” I deny her obstinately. “What I don’t understand is why whether or not I accept your help is such a big deal to you.” “Because it doesn’t make sense. I’ve never met anyone so adverse to simple kindness,” Vinyl expresses vehemently. I shrug, having no better answer for her. “You know, after everything I’ve heard, I’m wondering if everything is just give and take to you.” That phrase gets my attention, a chill independent from the wind settling over me. I open my mouth to ask about what she’s heard, but I decide better of it. I meant everything I said to Rainbow Dash… but I’m beginning to regret allowing myself to be pushed to that point. Judging from her influence, it’s going to do nothing but come back to bite me. When I don’t reply, Vinyl sighs. “Alright, we’ll do this your way,” she begins, earning my suspicion. “You’re working for me right now, so I’m your boss. As your boss, I’m telling you to take that strap,” she says resignedly. “What?” Finally I respond, incredulity present in my voice. I want to protest… but I can’t. If I reject her now, that’s as good as firing myself. While I don’t particularly care for her or this job, I can’t afford to go without payment for tonight. “If you want an explanation, it’s so you’ll be able to keep carrying the thing around without having to balance it and your duties for me,” Vinyl continues. She gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry, but you clearly won’t accept kindness any other way.” I’m silent for several moments, breathing deeply in order to suppress my rising ire. I have to respect her when she orders me like this, no matter how much I want to refuse. “Fine,” I emit at last, deprived of any other choice. Instead of gloating about it, Vinyl just heaves a disappointed sigh and turns her gaze back forward. We don’t speak to one another for the remainder of the trip. I’m not certain where we’re going, but I make sure to take in my surroundings as I go; This way I’ll be able to find my way to and from these places in the future. Unfortunately, rather than going through the square, Vinyl chooses to take a more direct route through the surrounding streets, making it more difficult for me to remember the route. The streets are almost entirely devoid of any other ponies, save for a few scampering here and there as though they’re in a hurry. This is odd, as I remember there being more ponies about in the streets on the previous night. I begin to wonder if perhaps this party is more of an attraction than I was led to believe. After turning a corner, a particularly bizarre building comes into view. It’s difficult to make out its details due to how dark it’s become, but the front lights illuminate just enough to reveal it’s features. It appears to be shaped like a typical gingerbread house, with a roof seemingly made of chocolate and lined with white icing. Two pillars striped like candy canes support a cherry topped overhang above the bright pink door, and a central tower-like structure rising from the center of the roof appears to be fashioned in the design of a cupcake or ice cream cone. To top this all off, a dimly lit sign depicting a heavily frosted cupcake hangs from a post protruding from the corner of the flamboyant building. As I thought, the door is propped open, and ponies from the streets are funneling inside. When one of them catches sight of Vinyl, she squeals and calls out to the others. Not long after that, a familiar pink pony squeezes through the throng of ponies. Now I have a name for her: Pinkie Pie. Pinkie produces a ramp similar to one we used at Vinyl’s house and sets it over the front steps, and then she zips over to us with an impossible speed. “Scratchie! You’re here just in time! It won’t be long before the Cakes get here, and it would be just terrible if we weren’t ready in time!” Pinkie addresses her, referring to her by a strange pet name. “Don’t worry about a thing, Pinks. I’ll be set up in half the usual time today; I hired help,” Vinyl responds with a grin, taking a moment to reciprocate a hug from the hyperactive pony. Then, Pinkie’s eyes shift to me, widening with recognition. I brace myself mentally for the inevitable conversation. Vinyl hastily adds, “Careful, he can be… a little cranky.” “Oh, I know!” Pinkie responds, much to both Vinyl and my surprise. Pinkie approaches me and smiles widely. “Hello again! Thanks for helping out Scratchie here; setting up her equipment is a lot of work!” “It’s nothing I’m not equipped to handle,” I grunt simply. As Vinyl and I push the cart to the ramp, Pinkie bounces alongside us. ‘Bounces’ is an apt description, as she quite literally brings all four of her hooves together and propels herself a short distance in the air, only to do it again as soon as she touches the ground. “Are you ready for me in there?” Vinyl interjects before Pinkie can continue talking to me, to my relief. “Yes, indeed-y! I threw the tables and chairs in the back, so the spot’s all yours! Roll on up!” Pinkie responds happily. Her voice is exceedingly high pitched; I don’t think I’ve ever heard somebody talk with a voice that high. “Better hurry, that big ol’ storm’s about to blow!” “Good idea. Come on, Seth, let’s get inside before the sky opens up on us,” Vinyl agrees, the mare stepping up the ramp. With her help, I put my weight behind the cart and edge it steadily towards the door. Just as the cart rolls inside, an immense thunderclap shatters the silence and a thick curtain of rain sweeps through the streets. “Whew, that was close!” I walk into the building, Pinkie bouncing along just behind me. The first thing I notice is the rich smell of candy and chocolate hanging in the air. It’s as though I’ve stepped into a candy store… and a quick look around confirms that assumption. The main room is roughly shaped like a T, where the flat portion in which I’m standing consists of mostly open space. The point is separated from the rest by two counters, each of which possessing glass fronts and containing sugary confections of all kinds. An old fashioned cash register rests atop one of the counters. Behind the counters is a short hallway with two exits: an archway on the left that leads into a kitchen, and a staircase on the right leading to the upper floors. As for the main portion of the room, most of it seems to have been cleared away to make room for the incredible crowd of ponies within. On the right side of the room are several small round tables where ponies are sitting, and the far wall is lined by covered shelves containing a variety of packaged candies and paraphernalia. In front of these shelves is a lengthy wooden table, atop of which are multiple platters of food. I can see everything from corn chips to punch to cookies and pastries. Just looking at it all makes my mouth water and my stomach growl. On the left side of the room is a raised platform separated from the rest of the area by a small set of steps and a banister. The platform is completely devoid of ponies and Vinyl has her eyes fixed on the area, so that’s likely where we’re going to be setting up. For the final touch, the area has been extravagantly decorated with brightly colored streamers, balloons, and a large banner stretched across the open expanse above the counters, upon which large indecipherable equestrian characters are written. To top it all off, a shimmering disco ball hangs from the ceiling, the mirrored surfaces shedding motes of white light on the floor. Lastly, there are an excessive amount of ponies here. They’re sitting on their haunches chatting to one another, sitting at the tables and sharing snacks together, or even flying through the air in the case of pegasi. Some of them I recognize from my walks through the streets. Others I recognize directly: Twilight Sparkle is in the back of the room, using her telekinesis to touch up any decorations that may have become askew. Applejack, Big MacIntosh, and even Apple Bloom are spread out amongst the crowd, socializing at their leisure. Unfortunately, this makes it likely that they’ll notice me and try to approach me. Even worse, if Rainbow Dash attends this party, the situation may grow sour very quickly; Applejack has stated that she is friends with her, and I suspect Vinyl associates with her as well. “Alrighty, you know what to do! I’ve gotta get back to decorating this super duper incredible cake! You’re all gonna love it!” Pinkie exclaims happily, and then she bounces away from us, somehow still able to maneuver through the crowd in that fashion. I shake my head at her hyperactivity. How she has the energy to bounce like that repeatedly is beyond me. “Let’s get started! The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can indulge and socialize,” Vinyl addresses me. I nod, and then we roll the cart up beside the makeshift stage. “Here’s good. Now, I’ll handle most of the set up like wiring and lights this time, but I need you to get all this equipment out of the cart. Then, I’ll have you watch me set up, so you can learn for later.” Vinyl approaches the cart and points to the different items inside as she continues. “These tubs all gotta get stacked up on stage, except for the ones that say ‘LED.’ Those are my lights; we’re gonna set those up around the dance floor, so set them down in the corner by the counter.” She pauses for a moment, and then she turns her head towards the kitchen. “Speaking of which. Pinks! Can you clear the dance floor for me? I gotta set up!” Pinkie’s head pokes out of the kitchen. “Oki Doki Loki!” she chirps. She bounces out into the main area. “Hey everypony! Scratchie’s gotta set up, so if you could please make some room?” Her loud voice manages to rise above the chatter of the crowd of ponies in the center of the room and is heeded, though the ponies just mill about uselessly in confusion at first. Once Twilight steps in and starts to direct them into the hallway back by the kitchen, their movement is quicker and better organized. Before too long, Vinyl and I have plenty of space in which to work. Vinyl, satisfied, goes back to pointing out where each individual piece of equipment goes. I follow along and memorize everything that she’s pointed out to the best of my ability, but I note that some of her equipment differs in appearance only by their labels. Once she finishes her explanation, I point that out to her. “I can’t read your language, Vinyl,” I reveal to her sheepishly. Vinyl stares at me briefly, her mouth forming into an “o” shape. “Right, you’re new to Equestria. Alright, let me give you a quick crash course,” Vinyl decides. She points her hoof at one of the labels. “Okay, this one says LED. You’ll need to memorize what it looks like. As for these speakers, you can tell the brand and type by looking at these plaques. This one is from Pony Audio… you can tell by looking at that shape there. That means pony." “Okay, easy enough. What’s this one?” I point to one of the larger speakers. “That’s a Sennhoofer,” Vinyl answers. Her horn glows, and the speakers slowly starts to rise. “Let’s get these out first. They’re the biggest and attach directly to my tables.” I nod, and grasp the other end. For the next half hour, the two of us work together to set up her ensemble. Her turn tables are set up directly in the center of the makeshift stage, with the Sennhoofer speakers on either side of them. The Pony Audio speakers are set up all around the room to allow the sound to reach the ponies from all directions. As for the LEDs, they consist of multicolored spotlights wired with small bulbs arranged in a variety of fancy designs. These spotlights are attached to a rack and suspended in the air on a thick metal stand. Vinyl has to help me set these up around the room, the spotlights angling towards the center of the room. Once all of that’s done, Vinyl tasks me with threading the wires throughout the room, connecting the LEDs and the speakers to her turntables, which is assumedly also the conduit through which she channels her mana. While I’m busy with that, Vinyl adjusts her settings and periodically runs sound tests to make sure the speakers and effects are working correctly. Once we’re finished, Vinyl approaches me with a smile. “Alright, we’re all done. That was much faster than it usually takes me. Thanks for the help,” she tells me. “I’ll be sure to pay you at the end of the night.” “Okay. What should I do in the meantime?” I ask, dusting off my hands against my pants. “Whatever you want! Hang out, socialize, and enjoy the party!” Vinyl says with a shrug. She eyes me closely. “You really seem like you could use the time to blow off steam.” “...Right.” I turn my back and scoff under my breath. I confirmed that I have to stay until she’s finished, at least. I grab my rifle from the cart. “I’ll be back later then.” Now that Vinyl’s finished setting up, the ponies in the hall trickle back out into the center of the room, leaving the back area empty. Noticing that, I make my way through the crowd in an attempt to claim that area for me own. Before I can make it that far, Pinkie emerges from the kitchen balancing a gigantic three-tiered cake atop her nose. My eyes goggle at the seemingly impossible sight. I move out of her way, noticing with further incredulity how she’s still bouncing to the same height. The cake platter lands squarely on her nose after each bounce, never once threatening to fall to the floor. “That… seems physically impossible,” I mutter to myself once she’s passed me by, and then I continue on my course until I reach the end of the hall near the stairs. There’s no chairs or benches, so I have little choice but to sit down on the floor with my back against the wall. I have no time to rest. As soon as I try to relax, Pinkie bounces back around the corner. Instead of returning to the kitchen, Pinkie’s eyes fixate on me and she zips towards me swiftly. She comes to a stop with her muzzle practically touching my nose, causing me to yelp and topple over. “Hi!” Pinkie greets me brightly, bouncing excitedly in place. I groan and get to my feet, glaring at the pony before me. “I know we got off on the wrong hoof, so I’d love to try again from the beginning this time!” “If you must,” I grunt in annoyance. I don’t bother trying to follow her movements with my eyes, choosing instead to stare at the point just below where her incessant bouncing brings her to eye level. “You’re new in town, and I always like to greet newcomers to Ponyville! I also think you’re new to the world, because nopony’s seen a human in a super duper long time!” Pinkie shoots off words a mile a minute, making me work hard to fully comprehend everything she’s saying. I raise a brow, noticing how she called me a human. She didn’t know what I was during our first meeting. Rainbow Dash must have spoken with her already… but if that’s the case, then why is she talking to me? “So hi again! My name is Pinkie Pie, and I’m going to be your new bestest friend!” With that, Pinkie starts to bounce in circles around me, making it even harder to maintain eye contact with her. I rub my forehead, a headache starting to form from a combination from her constant movement and her high-pitched voice. More importantly, I’m concerned about what she just said. “I’m not interested,” I deny her flatly. I’ll shoot her down right at the start. If she’s considered the friendliest pony in Ponyville, then I want nothing to do with her. I have little time for such distractions. Shockingly, my cold words do nothing to dampen her spirits. “I know, you don’t have to tell me. I heard all about it from Rainbow Dash!” Pinkie responds, confirming my earlier conclusion. “I heard how you don’t want friends because you’re leaving and how you’re supposedly a big meanie pants, but this all makes me want to make you smile even more!” “I…” I stutter, unsure of how to respond to her complete refusal to acknowledge or respect any of what I said to Rainbow Dash. I shake my head, finding it difficult to make any sense of her words. “Why would that even matter to you? You know I’m leaving and not coming back, so why bother?” Pinkie doesn’t stop bouncing, even as she lifts up a hoof to scratch at her chin. As she thinks, Twilight emerges from the main room, her head tilting with interest when she notices Pinkie and I talking. “It’s all about the memories, silly! Do you regret making friends with the humans that live where you came from?” Pinkie asks innocently, looking me straight in the eye as she asks that. I open my mouth, but no words come out. I… can’t lie to myself. If I could do it all over… I’d still become friends with Amaryllis. For this pink pony to say something like that to me… like she understands… bitterness and anger rise up from within me. “You…” I force out through gritted teeth, my hands balling into fists. I then realize what I’m doing and bite back my scathing words, realizing where I am and the possible consequences of flying off the handle here could be. “You didn’t answer my question. Why do you care?” “That’s easy! It’s because everypony knows how lonely and frightening it can be to arrive in a new place without any friends to help them!” Pinkie answers brightly, heedless of the effect her previous question had on me. “So I’m going to be the first to say welcome welcome-” Pinkie actually starts to sing in a level, focused voice, but before she can continue with her song, Twilight cuts in between us, looking extremely nervous. “Hey… Pinkie...! Maybe you shouldn’t crowd Seth just yet… he’s a little… uh…” Twilight starts to say, but then she becomes conscious of my pointed stare, causing her to laugh nervously and sweat. “Pinkie, I could have sworn I saw somepony bringing in a dessert that I’ve never seen before.” Pinkie stops bouncing and gasps melodramatically. “A new dessert!? I have to taste it!” The hyperactive mare zips back into the main room in search of this dessert-bearing pony that may or may not actually exist. I let out the breath I’d been holding. I find Twilight to be much more tolerable company than Pinkie. How she’s friends with all of these ponies is beyond me. I turn to Twilight. “Thanks for that. I’ve only met her twice, and I can already tell she’s a menace,” I say to her gratefully. Twilight frowns at that. “She’s not that bad, once you’re used to her. She’s a dear friend of mine,” she reveals to me. I give her an incredulous stare, and then I sigh. “But don’t thank me yet. It’s impossible to get away from Pinkie if she really wants to talk to you.” “If that’s true, she’ll learn pretty quickly that this ‘friendship’ that she’s trying to force on me is as unwelcome as it is unnecessary,” I growl. I gaze at Twilight, whose frown has deepened. “You’re the only one who knows why I’m here. You can understand why I’ve little patience for distractions.” “Maybe so, but it doesn’t hurt to be friendly,” Twilight admonishes me lightly. I recognize that for what it is and scowl. “I have my reasons. Do me a favor and please stop trying to impose your idea of how I should act upon me,” I request icily. Despite the level tone in which I delivered those words, Twilight winces at the sting in that request. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand what’s going on in your head,” Twilight admits softly. A silence falls between us after that. Twilight shuffles her hooves nervously, looking as though she’s still wanting to say something. “What’s this party for? I never asked.” I decide changing the subject is the best course of action. “Oh, it’s for Mr. and Mrs. Cake, the owners of this store. They won an award for their outstanding culinary capabilities, and were in Canterlot for the past few days to showcase some of their best dishes,” Twilight answers, pleased to talk about something else as well. She brightens up and beckons for me to follow her. “Come here, I’ll show you what I mean.” I hesitate briefly, but then decide I have little else to do anyway. As exhausted as I am, the sweet smell of the store is only making me hungrier. I follow the librarian out into the main room until she leads me over to the table at the far end of the room where the food is located. “These are all made by Pinkie, but Mr. and Mrs. Cake taught her nearly everything she knows.” Twilight indicates the spread of confections with a sweep of her hoof. “Go ahead, try one!” At first I’m unwilling, but then I notice other ponies taking from the table casually, even though the party hasn’t technically begun. I suppose taking one wouldn’t hurt. After all, this food is for the guests, and now that I’ve finished my work, I technically count as one as well. I tentatively reach out a hand and retrieve a cupcake with pink frosting from one of the platters. After tenderly unwrapping the base of the cupcake, I take a hesitant bite. My eyes widen as an explosion of sugary berry flavor occurs inside of my mouth. The icing is thick, with the consistency of buttercream, and the base is moist and firm. I’ve only ever tasted cupcakes bought from the grocery store, and they were nothing compared to this. There really is a difference between homemade and store-bought pastries. “This is… really good,” I admit reluctantly after swallowing the first bite. Twilight beams at my glowing appraisal. “You should taste something the Cakes make themselves! You see why they won an award?” “I suppose I do. I can recognize talent when I see it,” I agree, taking another bite. If I have free reign of these treats while I’m at this party, perhaps it won’t be as miserable as I was expecting. “By the way, how long do these parties usually last?” “There’s no specific timetable, if that’s what you’re asking. It usually lasts until the last pony leaves,” Twilight answers with a smile. “One good rule of hoof is that when attending a Pinkie Party, make sure your schedule for the next morning is clear!” “And if your schedule isn’t clear?” I ask pointedly. Twilight blinks, and then she appears to understand what I’m asking. “Then you should leave before it gets to be too late. Though in your case, I saw you working with Vinyl, so you’re here until she’s done I assume,” Twilight advises me. When I nod, she gives a sheepish grin. “I don’t envy you. Make sure to grab some coffee in the morning.” “Yeah, that would be great if I…” just as I’m about to make a sarcastic comment, the front door to the building slams open. “Oh no…” A thoroughly drenched Rainbow Dash zips in through the door, practically crashing into the wooden floor. She somehow manages to right herself so that she lands on all four hooves. Her mane flops over her eyes as she grins, reveling in the attention her noisy arrival gained her. “Whoo! Check out this masterpiece I got running outside!” she declares in that scratchy voice of hers, pointing outside into the torrential downpour with a hoof. The pride in her accomplishment is evident in her words. Her words lead me to recall her position as head of the weather team… the team of pegasi that apparently physically create the weather. “Yeah, thanks for making us rush to get here before your little ‘masterpiece’ soaked us all!” Vinyl responds from the stage. Her words earn laughter from the surrounding ponies and a grin from Rainbow. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re so slow!” Rainbow shoots back with a laugh that Vinyl soon mirrors. “Good to see you too, Dash!” Vinyl sarcastically returns, to the amusement of all listening. My spirits drop at the show of friendship between the two. Rainbow shakes her body like a dog, her mane flying in all directions as water droplets fly out in all directions. Pinkie bounds up to her with a towel, which Rainbow gratefully accepts. “So glad you could make it, Dashie! With you here, that’s just about everypony!” Pinkie greets her with a wide smile. “Hey, Pinkie Pie. Sorry I’m late. I hope you didn’t start the party without me,” Rainbow expresses with a smirk. “Nope! You’re just in time! The Cakes could be here any minute!” Pinkie answers, and then the two of them make their way back into the crowd, talking to one another animatedly. “We should probably start getting ready. No doubt Pinkie wants to surprise them,” Twilight advises me. She blinks, noticing the scowl on my face. “What’s the matter?” “Nothing you need to worry about,” I assure her. Twilight doesn’t look convinced, but I bite into my cupcake nonetheless. Between my inability to leave the party, Pinkie, and now Rainbow Dash, all the pieces seem to have fallen in place for a catastrophe. Even worse, my very life depends on whether not I get paid at the end of the night. This party cannot end soon enough.