//------------------------------// // Coda // Story: Mancala // by Schismatism //------------------------------// Second only to the hospital and doctor's office, in places people generally Do Not Want To Go, is of course the local police station. It's a public necessity for any town, of course, ranging from the simple sheriff's office in places like Applelooza to the more... let's say well-furnished places like the Manehattan PD. Ponyville's was somewhat closer to the former: a comparatively small building near City Hall which more or less served the multiple purposes of the guard's watchpost, corrections facility, et cetera. Despite its size, it was done up in that style which basically screamed 'secure building': the concrete walls, the hardened doors, and so on. Then again, considering how Ponyville butted up against a wild zone, that was probably just reasonable. No sense in having a criminal escape processing next time a manticore roams through town, right? I'll admit, I was tense when I wandered through the doors, following my erstwhile compatriots; they, for what it's worth, immediately relaxed a bit, while I wasn't quite sure whether I'd get hit by a burst of emotion or not. When much nothing filtered through but a sense of latent camaraderie, though, I was pleasantly surprised: evidently, a small town like Ponyville didn't exactly get much in the way of crime, violent or otherwise. Ponies wandered from desk to desk just past the lobby, filtering what paperwork they had between them; the day had nearly wound down, and the feeling of relief at the end of the day was palpable. That's not to say that the tension wasn't there, though. After that sort of a day, I was absolutely feeling like my nerves were about to snap like an old guitar string; thankfully, this was indeed tempered to some extent by the knowledge that soon I could likely get some actual rest. The others felt about the same, I could tell: they were looking just run-down enough that the day had obviously worn on them something fierce. So it was that the three gave a passing nod to a few of their fellow guards, making their way to an office inset in the back and collecting a middle-aged mare along the way: her cerise hair, shot through with streaks of silver, made her stand out to an extent, but the first thing I could tell you is that she had that air of weary competence around her, a badge which she carried much more obviously than any mere sheen of pot metal. The sergeant in question, a unicorn named Gleaming Stock, gave a sigh of some small relief as she escorted Cobalt, Shamrock and Crimson into said office, curtly stating that I should wait outside as they took part in the after-action report; with some small lingering trepidation, I took that as permission to slump down onto a decidedly uncomfortable office chair. Now, as I wasn't party to that little conversation, I couldn't say exactly what went on, but I can tell you that Sergeant Stock didn't raise her voice within the room; there were the occasional mumbles, and some spikes of concern from within, but the conversation was quiet enough that all which could really be made out were some sentence fragments, if that. Rather than publicly eavesdrop, I decided to take a quick look at a note or two on the wall, mostly the assorted detritus of old announcements and the like. Thankfully for my low level of patience, they were in there for merely 15 minutes before the Sergeant came out with a small stack of paperwork, looking relieved that it was likely to be the least batch for the day. "Alright," she began, "Divided Gem, yes? I'm just going to need you to sign a statement here, and then you'll be good to go. Just verifying what happened today with these three." I had to chuckle at that, nodding at the demeanor. "Gotta sacrifice that ink to the bureaucracy demons, right? I'm sorry if I caused any concerns today... it's been really, really messed up." Here, Stock's eyes softened just a bit, and she shook her head ruefully. "Nonsense," came the reply: "It's just that whenever these three get into something, anything, something almost inevitably goes wrong. Frankly, I'm glad that nothing actually exploded." The way she said that... well, the implications were clear, as was the half-hidden warning. I had to admit that that 'explosion' was a near thing, that's for sure... even if it didn't actually happen. A brief glance over the paperwork pretty much confirmed everything she'd told me: it was just a statement of the facts, nothing substantial. Three copies, of course - signed already by the Sergeant as the staff officer, and by the three troublemakers still waiting in the room. With a shrug, I penned my own, taking the quill she offered, and mostly-happily accepted my own copy to tuck into my bag. With a roll of my shoulders and a stretch of my legs, things finally felt like they were reaching a sensible point. "So, I have to ask, what brings a changeling into Ponyville in the first place?" requested the Sergeant as the Wild Guard slipped out of the well-lit office. "You hear stories about changelings all the time, usually the kind of ridiculous faff that the newspapers think will sell copies; nopony really believes them, but even so." There, I had to shrug. "Woke up in the Everfree without a clue how I got there. This looks like a nice town, really, so I might just have to stay a while. No place really else to go, at the moment." The knowledge that the newspapers were rather less than informed came as no surprise whatsoever: I suspected at that point that the Weekly World News had its equivalents in this world as well. "So, you know, might as well put a few of my skills to use, find a job, that sort of thing." Here, I waved a hoof. "And never really been great at shapeshifting, but I figure, act normally and folks won't be too terribly xenophobic. You hear stories about small towns all the time..." This was met with a rueful grin on the face of all four ponies, though Cobalt answered first. "It's mostly not true, those stories... Ponyville's a pretty nice place. Though there are a few fillies who tend to delight in reacting to the smallest thing with overblown panic... some of us have a hard time stopping that herd reaction when it starts." "I completely understand... as the old saying goes, 'When in danger, when in doubt...'" "Run in circles, scream and shout," we all finished in unison. The comparatively painless task of paperwork handled, with a few plans in place for the morning, I set out on my own from there. The town square was mostly empty at this point in the evening, with the sun hanging low in the sky; most ponies were almost undoubtedly at home, cooking their dinners and generally settling in for the night. A few foals and fillies played around here and there, kicking a hoofball around or playing tag, but even they were setting back; the lamps weren't lit, but they'd soon spread their light in lieu of the day. To my pleasant surprise, the police department did have a few spare copies of a map or two of Ponyville - hardly substantial, but enough that I was able to figure out a good direction to head in. I had to admit, an early night sounded precisely like what I needed at this time, and there was a plain, simple bed and breakfast just down the way. The Red Mane, as they called it, was more or less the spitting image of a small-town hostel, right down to the rosebushes outside - though a part of me did wonder if that was part of the brunch, or simply there for decoration. In any event, with a comparatively calm heart I made my way in. I won't say that with the ring of the bell, all discussion stopped within, but there was a decided decline from what was hitherto a lively conversation between a few of the guests. I could hardly blame them: I wasn't exactly the image of a regular pony, after all. My odd pack, my chitin, the odd hole here and there... I did hear the muttered word 'changeling' once or twice, as from a distance. Thankfully, this was definitely muted: in a travelers' accommodation like this one, surely the sight of an odd traveler, like a gryphon, yak, or zebra wouldn't be too terribly out of place. Making my way over to the register, I gave a light nod to the folks who had turned their attention towards me, redirecting their stares back to the conversations in which they were taking part. I wouldn't say that the place was extraordinarily crowded, but there were about seven or eight ponies there, not counting the staff... a surprising number passing through, if that's what they were. If the proprietor of the inn, a slate-grey and lemon-maned Earth Pony stallion who looked like he was a regular fixture of the establishment, noticed anything peculiar about me, he certainly didn't let it show. The stalwart gentleman simply raised an eyebrow at the sight of my pack, chewing gum with a scent of mint which I could easily make out from halfway across the room. "Staying with us?" he inquired simply, gesturing to the ledger. "It's thirty bits a night for a single, twenty if you're just bunking." For a few moments, I balked at the expenditure, but prudence won out over thrift in this regard; a single room seemed much more like my style, however small that they might be, and I certainly didn't want anyone rummaging through my pack again. Once or twice was enough, and no matter how much the Wild Guard had given me reason to trust them, even in a town like Ponyville, I would expect that things might go missing from time to time. Plus, even disregarding the technology I had in my bag, there were also the well-over-a-thousand-bits, and I wasn't about to lose those if I could help it. "A week, then, in a single," I replied, "if you have the space." It was perhaps a bit much, and 210 bits was quite the quantity... but at the same time, having a space in which to relax was important, and as they say, one has to spend money to survive... let alone to make money. The innkeep gave a slow nod, and noted, "Seventh night's free, then," accepting my 180 without much of a change in expression and providing me with a small, steel key in return. "Breakfast's at eight o'clock. Other meals you cook yourself, or eat out." A curt nod was my own response, and I dutifully placed my name down in the ledger, trying to ignore the small spike of curiosity coming from two of the stallions on the other side of the room. Looking around, I took in the atmosphere - a straightforward lobby, ornate wood finishings and comfortable, but not extravagant furniture - and decided to simply head upstairs for the moment. I had things to sort out, after all... and I doubted that the conversations, no matter how scintillating they might have been, would help at that point. True to form, even for a hostel, the room in question where I would be sleeping was tiny. I hadn't expected a substantial amount of comfort, but it really was about as minimalist as one could get. The bathrooms down the hall were completely separate, though thankfully there were more than one of them; similarly, there were a pair of communal showers for the sake of simplicity. Briefly, I considered how much hot water they had, but set that thought aside for the moment. Bed, desk, small closet, window. That's about all one needs in a room, aside from a small lamp which appeared to function magically. Of the amenities, such as it were, I was most thankful for the desk, which appeared to be just large enough to contain that laptop of mine... and nothing else. The walls were a mere cream shade, the bedsheets and pillow a similar yellow, and a mirror hung at more or less eye level on the door. All in all, I'd slept in smaller and less comfortable spaces, from time to time. "All right," I muttered to myself, withdrawing that small paper notebook from my bag. "First things, first, the elephant in the room, so to speak." With a twist of my hoof, I was able to tear an unused page free, glaring at it slightly as though willing it almost to explode. "Zero-range telekinesis is one thing, but if I'm going to be able to even use my computer, I'm going to need to deal with ranged manipulation." Smashing on a keyboard with hooves, after all, wasn't any way of going about it, not if I wanted the trusty equipment to remain intact for more than a few minutes. At the same time, if I started tapping away with a telekinetic field I wasn't familiar with, that could be even more destructive... and that's something I wasn't going to abide. "What I know about telekinesis... basic unicorn, alicorn, changeling power, projecting a field onto an object and manipulating it from there." I gave my horn a light tap, the sensation of bone against bone - especially on one's forehead - an alien and not entirely comfortable one. "Okay, that's sensitive..." Feeling almost like I was about to sneeze, I shook my head with some small irritation, then returned my attention to the paper in front of me. 'Hum, wonder what colour my field is. Hopefully it's not acid green, let alone octarine... well, let's find out.' Throughout the day, I'd felt a bit of an odd sensation, even more so than the functional empathy I seemed to have been given: it was as though there were waves of energy running through, well, everything, intrinsically permeating every object within the world. That energy was much more notable, of course, outside the Everfree, but it still existed there, albeit in a wild form. Not surprising, to be frank. Manipulation of that element, such as it were, seemed as though it would be a difficult task, not unlike trying to handle phlogiston or the luminous aether. I had to chuckle, though, as the latter seemed to be as good a fit for this as anything. I had also noticed that the energies in question were handled in a much different manner by pegasi, unicorns and earth ponies... though each clearly did handle those energies, directing them to certain tasks. Intrinsic vs. extrinsic... Pushing my woolgathering aside, I started off by closing my eyes and taking a long, deep breath. The first step was likely to push some energy into that horn itself, letting it flow freely there. Just a little bit, not too much: I knew full well that telekinesis could be easy to overdo, at least if the show's illustrations were in any way correct. With a small hum, I heard the sound of thaumic resonance starting up, and opened my eyes to see what sort of a colour I was emanating. Hmm, light grey, almost a silver - I could work with that. With another mental twist, I focused on exuding that aura, pushing it over to the piece of paper in order to, say, 'grab' it safely. In a way, it felt a lot like reaching out an arm or leg, but without that physical sensation. It wasn't quite the same, but there was a reactive sensation, too, almost like brushing a fingertip over a carpet: I could feel the resonance in the air, affecting the field in its own ways. While unique, I quickly set that aside as well for the moment, finally encapsulating that piece of paper in my aura. The paper immediately crumpled up into a tiny ball. The surprise at the result was rather palpable, and my field cut off as I nearly jumped out of my skin - well, chitin. That wasn't supposed to happen... and it was probably not a good sign. On the other hoof, I was suddenly very glad that I didn't immediately try that with something more potentially harmful, like anything electronic... or even a bit coin. Having metal coinage flung around would likely not amuse the other tenants, let alone the owners of the Red Mane. With a sigh, I reached over to uncrumple the paper. This would take quite a bit of practice... Two hours later, I had more or less exhausted myself, at least in a few ways. Magic, as many know, is handled like a muscle, and it takes long practice to get that muscle up to snuff. I was more or less just a filly trying to use a new skill for to get her cutie mark, though thankfully without the disasters inherent. A few of the paper balls had indeed reacted in expected ways, by which I mean that they attempted to impact themselves in the walls, ceiling, floor, and my face. On the positive side, they were just paper, not exactly the sort of material which is likely to put holes in even insubstantial drywall. About 10 pages had been pulled out, eight of which had immediately crumpled upon my efforts to lift them... though two sheets were still more or less intact after I'd started fine-tuning my capability. I hadn't been able to use the telekinesis to fold them yet, not with any regularity, but I'd been able to lift the sheets without damaging them, a rather substantial mark of progress. Having locked the door the moment I entered, I stood and stretched, my legs creaking slightly as a few joints cracked. That, I supposed, was as good a stopping point as ever, and while I didn't feel exactly hungry, I knew that I'd be wolfing down breakfast the next day. Once the telekinetic field was finally handled, I'd be able to make some good use thereof, not least regarding making notes on the whole situation... notes which I would encrypt, on the grounds that they'd likely make me appear to be a deranged lunatic. Plus, there was the study of magic, and the question of what happened to me... how did I have such excellent capacity for kinesthetics, when I literally should not have been able to even crawl around with impunity? It should have been impossible for me to even utilize this body, let alone the zero-range TK field inherent to all ponies; while I hadn't flown yet, I had a feeling that would be almost as simple as walking around, and that went well beyond impossible. How was I even speaking the same language? All of this added up to something meddling, something huge. "It is a mystery", as they say, and I knew I'd have to solve that if I had any chance of staying sane. A sigh quickly divorced me from that train of thought, and I turned to close the curtains around the window, packing my belongings into a small foot locker - well, hoof locker - at the end of the bed. Sleep, a night's sleep, that would undoubtedly have a beneficial effect. That and food in the morning. "Goodnight, Ponyville," I finally yawned, turning to the bed with an odd feeling that I was forgetting something. "Goodnight, Luna," I added, looking up at the unadorned moon in the deep sky, surrounded by constellations. I had nearly gotten to sleep when I jerked full awake, spilling out of bed like a sack of rice and rushing back to the window. Unadorned?! "Oh, shit."