When most ponies thought of Canterlot, they thought of the mountainside, with its snow-white towers and beautiful river glades. They thought of ever-fresh mountain air, of chill winds and warm sun, and of a view so grand they could see all of Equestria. The mountainside was where the first unicorn immigrants to Equestria made their home, and over the many centuries, they and their descendents slowly modeled it into what they saw as the ideal city. It became a place of magic and of refinement, admired the world over.
But there was another part of Canterlot. It was the place that those unicorns from so long ago put their earth pony laborers when they were not needed to cut stone or till earth. It was the city beneath the city: the mountain core.
Twilight stuck tight to Celestia’s side as they walked through the dim tunnel, so close she had to momentarily scramble not to trip her teacher. The street was packed with earth ponies: laborers, tunnel rats, merchants, runners, and those in the shadows who watched Twilight as she passed. Where the air was not stale, it was rank, laden with the smell of burst pipes or excessively spiced cooking. The street shook with hoofbeats.
“Twilight,” Celestia said, her tone firm. “What have I taught you?”
“I’m… just nervous, Princess. I’ve never been here before and—”
“Twilight,” Celestia repeated, her tone just ever so slightly short.
For half a moment, Twilight froze. Then she took a quick half-step away from Celestia. She straightened her back, and lifted her head, and walked like a princess. She walked like Celestia walked.
Nopony seemed to pay either of them much mind. The crowd cleared in front of them, but no more so than it would have for any other pony of Celestia’s size. Celestia neither demanded special treatment nor received any, but pushed through the throng like every other pony there. A runner darted past them going the other way, brushing into Twilight as he passed. She shivered, but she didn’t flinch away.
Celestia looked back at her. She brushed Twilight with a wing. “That’s very good, Twilight. I want you to remember that you’re fourteen now. Your teenage years are very important. A young mare is often afraid, but she doesn’t let her fear control her.”
“Yes, Princess,” Twilight said, trying to conceal the tightness in her throat. She turned her head and forced herself to ignore the crowd, and instead studied the tunnel around them as they walked.
It was an ant hive. Beneath the city, there was no such thing as land area, only cubic volume. And when creating more volume required moving tons of stone, it was a precious thing indeed. Homes and businesses crammed together in the available space, one stacked on top of another. Not a cubic inch of space was wasted, and though the tunnel was vast, they walked past some of the smallest stores Twilight had ever seen. They were all painted so brightly, in a thousand colors ranging from peeling reds to green highlights full of bubbles and blisters.
“Princess,” Twilight finally managed to ask. She kept her voice level. “Why are we here?”
“It is a part of your lessons.” Above them, a pair of pegasi flew past, achieving dangerous speeds in the gap between ponies heads and the ceiling above.
“Yes, Princess.” Twilight nodded. “May I ask what I am here to learn?”
Celestia slightly turned in her course, angling across the road for a particular pile of structured. Half built into the tunnel wall, half balanced on ricky supports, it contained a diner, a store selling lottery tickets, and a hooffull of small apartments. The whole assemblage was so ramshackle, that it seemed to Twilight a strong sneeze could knock the place down.
It was only after they were on this new course that Celestia finally answered Twilight’s question. “How would you describe this part of town?”
“It’s uh…” Twilight cleared her throat. “Kind of a dump. Princess.”
“So, the street you grew up on is nicer?” Celestia kept an even, civil tone, even as she applied her shoulder to get through a particularly thick part of the crowd. It seemed to be the way of things.
“Uh, I… oop!” Twilight wove her way through the mass with considerably less grace, the little filly darting past larger ponies or ducking past them. “Yes, I mean. Yes. Obviously.”
“So why is it that you were able to grow up in a nice neighborhood, while these ponies grew up here?”
“My dad worked very hard when I was young,” Twilight looked closely at Celestia’s face, but found no answers in her impassive mask. “Mom always said that when I was one and two, he was around so little she was worried I’d grow up without seeing my father. But, that’s because he was building his career as a writer. So when I got older, he could be around a lot more and we could live in a nice place.”
“So, you were able to grow up in a nice neighborhood because your father worked very hard. Is that correct?” Celestia angled for the run-down apartments.
Twilight swallowed. She nodded. Ahead of them, Celestia angled for the apartments. “Yes. That’s right.”
“Then, do ponies who live here work less hard?”
Twilight looked around. Her eyes traveled over the flickering tunnel lights, the peeling paint, and the ponies hawking cheap goods on street corners. She eyed roadway laborers leaning on their tools, and sharp-shouldered types pushing their way ahead of others in the throng.
“I mean, I’m sure some of them do,” she said after a moment. “Or maybe they aren’t as smart as my dad. Or their skills just aren’t very valuable, like knitting or something.”
Celestia didn’t answer as they walked the few remaining steps to one of the apartment doors. She lifted a hoof, and knocked three times. She hit hard, and the even in the packed tunnel, the sound reverberated through the air.
“Coming!” a young mare’s voice called out. The handle turned. The door swung open. “What is-”
Twilight gaped and stared. Jump Cut stared back, frozen to the spot like she’d been turned to stone. Twilight managed to break the silence first: “Jump Cut!?” she asked, breathless. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh…” Jump Cut stammered incoherently. Then, she slammed the door in Twilight and Celestia’s face.
“Jump Cut,” Celestia said, raising her voice to be heard through the thick wood. Twilight’s head turned on a swivel, looking sharply back and forth between the door and Celestia.
“Nopony’s home! Go away!” she shouted back, strain showing in her voice.
“I’m going to count to three, Jump Cut,” Celestia’s voice was firm. “One…” She lifted a hoof. “Two!”
The door unlatched itself, but did not open. Celestia pushed on it with a hoof, and the doorway swung in. On the other side was a dim living room, lit only by a single firefly lamp on a peg. Jump Cut stood in front of the door, so tense she shivered where she stood.
“Hello, Jump Cut,” Celestia said, stepping in through the door. Twilight hurriedly followed. “Is your mother home?”
“She’s in the bedroom,” Jump Cut’s eyes were on the floor, and she gestured vaguely somewhere behind them. “She broke her leg. She can’t get up right now.”
“Yes, I know,” Celestia said gently. “I have spoken with Mr. Steel Shaving. He has decided that your mother will continue to receive her regular pay while she recuperates, with a small bonus to pay for somepony to help take care of the house. Her job will be waiting for her when she is well again. I have also decided to give you a modest living stipend so long as you remain at my school. I wouldn’t want your mother to worry.”
“Princess, I can’t…” Jump Cut fell silent as Celestia’s stare intensified. Her hooves scrunched together.
“I expect you to be back in your dorm by Sunday evening lights-out. Is that understood?” Celestia asked. Jump Cut nodded. “Very good. I am going to go speak with your mother. Twilight, please remain here.”
Celestia walked past them both, pushing open the door to the back of the house. Twilight caught a brief glimpse of a mare lying back in a bed, and then the door shut behind her. She and Jump Cut were left alone together. So they stared at each other, and at the floor.
Again, Twilight spoke first: “You uh…” she managed. “You told me your family lived in Manehatten.”
“Yup.” Jump Cut’s voice was tight. “I did tell you that.”
Twilight nodded. She lapsed into silence. The pause hung for some time, until Jump Cut mumbled: “Sorry.”
The front door did little to muffle the sounds of the street, and for a time, Twilight could clearly hear somepony shouting. One of the tunnel lights had blown out, and a few of the sparks had landed on him. It was quite the stream of profanity. “I didn’t know your mom was an earth pony.”
Jump Cut’s head snapped up. Her wide eyes instantly hardened into a glare. “Why would you need to know that?”
“I don’t. Need to know that.” Twilight rubbed one hoof over the other. “I just… you never mentioned it.”
“Why would I mention it!?” her voice rose.
“You wouldn’t! I mean, there’s no reason to. There’s no reason not too! It just never came up. So, you know. Ha ha. I didn’t…” Twilight trailed off. “Know.”
A weak half-laugh escaped Jump Cut. She looked away. “Bite me, Twilight.” Her voice cracked. “I thought you were my best friend.”
“I…” Twilight’s own voice started to peak. But before it could crack, she stopped. She glanced at the shut bedroom door.
She forced herself to take a breath. She swallowed, and forced her throat to relax. As best she could, she sat up straight.
“I’m trying to be, Jump Cut,” she finally said. “Maybe I haven’t been as good a friend as I thought I was. But I don’t understand. Celestia didn’t tell me anything. I didn’t know why were were here until you answered the door.” She leaned around to catch Jump Cut’s eyes. “Tell me what happened?”
“I already told you what happened. Mom tripped on a staircase and broke her leg.” Jump Cut forcefully shrugged, and her tone turned harsh. “And you can’t exactly work in a steel mill with a cast, so, since having food is kind of nice, I had to come home. My dad hasn’t been around for awhile, and my sisters are all too young to work. So I was going to drop out of school.”
Twilight gasped. “But that would be throwing away your entire future! You’re a straight-A student!”
Jump Cut snorted and rolled her eyes. “Wow, what insight. You really are a genius. I can see why Celestia picked you as her personal protege.”
Twilight’s ears folded back. “No, I… that’s not what I meant. Why can’t your mom just get an advance while she heals?”
“Think, Twilight. I know you can do math.” Jump Cut tapped the side of her head. “Even if her boss agreed to that, what happens? She gets two month’s pay in advance. She spends it to keep the family alive, meaning that none of it is left when she’s healed. She goes to work. And then…” Jump Cut spreads her hooves.
“What about friends? Extended family?”
“They’re how we paid for her to see a doctor for the leg and kept the lights on the last week. But they’re just as poor as we are. They can’t support my whole family and pay for my education for two months.”
“What do you mean, ‘pay for your education?’” Twilight scrunched her muzzle. “Celestia’s school is free.”
“Are textbooks free? Are ink and parchment? Are trips to visit the film studios I might want to work for some day? Are hoof polish and train tickets and eating out and all those other things you girls keep pulling me into?”
“You could say no!”
“You’re right.” She snapped. “‘I’m sorry, Twilight. I’d love to hang out with you and the girls this evening. But I’ll just have to watch you paint your hooves. Polish is a bit rich for my blood.’”
“Well there’s got to be some way out of this!” Twilight stomped a hoof. “You work hard and you’re really smart and you actually treat your library books with respect and don’t fold down the pages. You deserve to be up there.” She let out a sharp breath. “Ponies don’t have their whole futures ruined just because somepony tripped.”
Jump Cut stared at Twilight. She didn’t say a word, and eventually a blush appeared in Twilight cheeks. She looked at the floor. “I’m your friend,” she spoke softly. “Why didn’t you ask me for help?”
“Maybe because I didn’t want you to decide what my family deserved,” she shot back, and her words came hot and sharp. “I don’t need your pity.”
Twilight jaw opened and shut without a sound. She stared hard at the ground. “Is it really just because of bad luck?”
“Bad luck and ponies like you, yes.” Jump Cut snorted. “I like you, Twilight. I really like you. But it’s a good thing your special talent was magic, because the next-best thing you’re good at is ‘well meaning’ racism.”
Twilight smiled at that. It was just a little, and the gesture was strained, but she couldn’t stop a hint of it from appearing on her face. She lifted her eyes to Jump Cut. “What would that cutie mark look like?”
“Just a picture of your head and a speach bubble saying, ‘I have lots of earth pony friends!’”
“Heh.” Twilight scuffed the floor with a hoof. “If I apologize for being a huge jerk. And for… and for not being there when you needed me. Or, for making you feel like you can’t trust me. Or, for actually not being trustworthy, because you were right about how I’d react. If I apologize for everything. Maybe… we could try still being friends?”
“I…” Jump Cut hesitated, her tail tucking up behind her. “I guess.”
Silence hung between them. But this silence was not as long as the others, and Twilight cleared her throat. “I notice you said, ‘your sisters.’ What about your brother?”
“Ah… heh.” Her horn glowed, and the brother Twilight had occasionally seen pick her up for the train to Manehatten appeared beside her, smiling and staring blankly into space. “Fictional characters generally can’t hold down jobs.”
“Oh my gosh.” Twilight stared. “You invented a brother?”
“I’m an illusionist!” Jump Cut rubbed the back of her head as the image vanished, and a small blush appeared in her cheeks. “Besides, you didn’t mention that Shining Armor existed for the first two years we knew each other.”
“Those are fundamentally not equivalent levels of deception.” Twilight laughed, rubbing her face with a hoof. “Jeeze. Anything else I should know about?”
“No. That’s it.” Jump Cut’s voice was quiet.
Twilight nodded. She thought for a moment. “You want to, like, go get something to eat? Lunch or something? I’d kind of like to see more of the mountain core. I’ve never been down here.”
“The princess told us to wait.”
Twilight looked at Jump Cut. She looked at the door. She squared her shoulders, and marched across the room in two quick steps. She lifted her hoof, and knocked in the door with two quick beats. “Princess Celestia? I’m sorry to interrupt, but may Jump Cut and I go out?”
“Yes, Twilight,” Celestia said, “I’ll make sure somepony is here to care for Jump Cut’s mother. You may both take the day.”
Twilight thanked her, and they did. They walked through the crowded streets. They found a diner and Twilight got to try rock soup. They visited the central cavern, whose ceiling was ten stories high and which featured the second-biggest market in Canterlot. They met some of Jump Cut’s childhood friends, and tagged along to a party. Twilight tried her hand at dancing, and was informed she danced like a unicorn. Later, she was informed that that was not a compliment. She enjoyed it anyway.
That evening, when Twilight returned to the city above, she did not go to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Instead, she proceeded directly to the Palace main gates and up the steps to the Princess's quarters. The guards all knew her, and let her past. She knocked, and Celestia allowed her inside.
“I’m sorry, Princess.”
Celestia turned from what she was doing, looking back at the purple mare staring straight-backed before her. “For what?” she asked.
“For not treating my friends right. For being less than your faithful student should be.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry you had to take me down there.”
Celestia put down the quill she had been using, and turned away from her desk entirely. She faced Twilight head on, and smiled. “Twilight, why did you leave with Jump Cut?”
“I… had to learn more about her. And the city.” She cleared her throat. “I had to prove to her I meant what I said. That I was actually sorry, not just asking her to forgive me.”
“I didn’t tell you what you did wrong.” Celestia said, gently. “I didn’t tell you how to fix it. Why did you decide your lesson was over? Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I…” The word stuck in Twilight’s throat. “I don’t know, Princess.”
“Then I’ll tell you why.” Celestia’s smile brightened, just enough that Twilight noticed. “Because you’re not a child anymore, Twilight. You’re well on your way to become an adult, and adults have to make their own decisions. I won’t always be there to tell you what’s right and what’s wrong, and nopony, not even me, is perfect. You will make mistakes. Sometimes you will make very severe mistakes, and realize that in some ways, you are not as good a pony as you thought. It is up to you to realize your errors, and to correct them, and to become better than you were.”
She reached out a wing, and with the tips of her feathers, brushed Twilight’s shoulder. “As you did today. I’m proud of you, Twilight.”
Twilight’s jaw opened and shut. “Thank you, Princess.” She struggled for words. Finally, she blurted out: “I love you.”
Celestia shut her eyes. She lowered her head. “Come here,” she said, and Twilight rushed forward to wrap her in a hug. They embraced, and Twilight’s grip was so tight. Celestia was more gentle, and her wings wrapped around Twilight like a cocoon.
Eventually, Celestia folded her wings, and gently pushed Twilight back. It was only reluctantly that Twilight let go, and the distance between them returned. “There is something I would like you to do, Twilight. You have been my student for a long time, but now I have a task for you.”
“Of course, Princess!” Twilight chirped. She was almost breathless. “Anything!”
“I wish that places like the mountain core didn’t exist, but I cannot outlaw bad luck. There will always be those who fall between the cracks. But even if we cannot change that fact, we can do our best to help them. I would like to start doing more to improve education in the earth pony parts of the city. Will you please research the available options and come back to me with a proposal?”
“I…” Twilight needed a moment to even be able to speak. Her ears were on end, her tail was high, and she seemed ready to leap for joy. “Yes, Princess!” she squeaked.
“Very good, Twilight,” Celestia nodded. “You may go.”
“Oh, wait. Before I do…” Twilight stood on tip hooves, giddiness written in her every motion. “Can I… summarize the lesson? Like you had me do when I was younger.”
“If you really must,” Celestia sighed, but her soft smile returned. “Go ahead.”
“Ahem,” Twilight took a deep breath. “It’s always easy to judge others. When we fail, we say it’s because of external reasons, but when other ponies fail, it’s because they were flawed. But that’s not how the world works. Misfortune can strike anypony at any time, and no matter how capable a pony is, the world can always pile more on them than they can carry. And so if we want the world to be a better place, we all need to be willing to reach out to help a pony in need.”
She paused. Then as an afterthought added, “Also, unicorns can’t dance.”
“Very good, Twilight.” Celestia nodded, and Twilight glowed. “Off to bed with you, then.”
“Good night, Princess!” Twilight called, skipping out of the room. She got started on her research right away, and when lights-out came, she pulled out a flashlight and got right back to work. It wasn’t until nearly 3AM that her eyes started to grow heavy, and her head slowly sunk to the top of her working desk.
“—and I’m going to rebuild the worst parts of the city, and Celestia will make me an administrator when I grow up, and I’ll get to work in the palace with her every day! It’ll be perfect! It…” Twilight paused. She looked around. “It…”
She was beneath the bones of the mountain. And such bones they were. The sky was the curled skeleton of a pony, so vast their ribs were wider than the grounds of Canterlot Palace. The giant lay where it had died, and ponies of stone had built their homes beneath it. There were fortresses, running along the spine. There was a grand palace, anchored into the skull, and there were vast warehouses inside hollowed-out hooves.
Twilight stood beneath the ribs. They formed a great cavern, into which countless homes and ramshackle businesses had been built. And all around her were the ponies who built them, vast crowds that filled the streets. Ponies of stone.
Statues. The streets were filled with statues. Statues waited at the crosswalks, and sat in the diners, stood frozen laughing at some joke. A mare in front of Twilight was halfway through a step she would never complete. The world was silent. Utterly silent. The sound of Twilight’s own breathing was deafening.
“I…” Twilight swallowed, her eyes darted left and right. She backed away from the statues as best she could, herded by them into the one clearing she could find. “I am in the dream realm. I… I got here…” She stared at the world around her. “I come here every night. You are Princess Luna. You are my teacher.”
“Yes,” said the skeleton. Its voice was but a whisper. It did not move, but from its mouth poured the sound. Twilight looked at it with fresh eyes, and realized that its skull had the cracked remains of a horn, as it shoulders mounted the bones of wings, its dead hooves wide and steady.
“I want to wake up now, Princess,” Twilight said quickly. “I don’t like this dream. It feels different from the others.”
“That’s because I am very angry, Twilight. And while I am not angry at you, I must insist you complete the lesson. Celestia taught you wrong today. She taught you a falsehood. She shaped your compassion for your fellow pony into a weapon against you.”
The ground shook ever so faintly. A statue of a foal fell over, and shattered. “I will not have it.”
The hairs of Twilight’s coat stood on end, and a chill passed over her that pierced her flesh and sunk into her bones. It was like she’d been standing in the cold for hours, and though her body shivered uncontrollably, she stood and squared her shoulders.
“No,” Twilight commanded. “No. I refuse. For the last seven years, you’ve done everything you can to paint Celestia in an awful light. Well this is my chance to finally prove to her that I do deserve to be her student. And I won’t just sit here and listen as you try to turn me against her! So go ahead. Do your worst!”
In the silence, Twilight could hear her heart beat. Her breath came in sharp, angry gasps. The silence around her lingered. “Well!?” she shouted up at the skeleton above. “I’m waiting! This is the part where I fall into a dream where some narrative contrivance proves your point, and I act like it’s all real, and wake up with your lesson in my head. But it isn’t real. It’s a lie. All you’ve ever shown me are lies! And I refuse to believe it any longer!”
Her breath came in and out. Nothing answered her. “Well!?”
“Your teenage years are very important,” Celestia said. Twilight shrieked like she was burned, and whirled towards the source of the sound. There, behind her, was a statue of Celestia and statue of herself, frozen mid-step just as they’d been in the tunnels below. “A young mare is often afraid, but she doesn’t let her fear control her.”
“I am not afraid of you!” Twilight snarled. “And I don’t let it control me!”
“You’re terrified, and your fear plays the strings of your heart like a fiddle,” the skeleton spoke, its voice so soft Twilight could barely hear. “But it is not me you are frightened of.”
Twilight heard a loud snap, like a bus of electrical switches all throwing at once, and abruptly the skeleton's head plunged into total darkness. There came another snap, and it’s tail vanished. Then its rear hooves, then it’s forehooves, and one by one the ribs of it’s body, until only Twilight was left. A deafening snap sounded right in her ears, and she screamed as she was plunged into total darkness. She could see nothing. Feel nothing. The world didn’t exist. She didn’t exist.
Then she heard a squeak. A little sound. The hinge on a firefly lantern. Soft light appeared before her. She was in Celestia’s chambers, looking statues of herself and Celestia, as they’d been that evening.
“Thank you, Princess.” The statue of Twilight said, in a perfect mirror of her voice. “I love you.”
The statue of Celestia didn’t say anything back.
“Many times you have told Celestia you love her,” the skeleton whispered, and Twilight was sure it was still a skeleton, though she could see nothing. “Never once has she said she loves you. And so you are terrified. You are terrified of what she truly feels. You think that you are nothing to her but a student. You think that if you work hard enough, labor diligently enough, if you’re smart enough and wise enough, you will earn her love. But this is a lie.”
The chill wind blew, rustling the papers on Celestia’s desk. “You cannot earn her love because you already have it. You are the daughter she never had, and she adores you with all her heart. But if she ever acknowledges that, she is betraying your mother. Stealing you from her. And so she says nothing.”
Twilight stared at the two statues, eyes wide, mouth open. Her voice cracked, and she struggled for words. But she couldn’t find them. She just choked up, and tried not to cry.
“Come morning,” Luna said, “you will not remember this dream, or me. But you will still know what I have told you. And you will not be afraid any longer.”
“Why?” Twilight croaked out the word.
“I have been… cruel to you, in the past. Because I believed it was necessary.” For a moment, Luna paused. “But I am proud of you, Twilight. You have been my student as long as you have been Celestia’s, and you have grown up into a fine young mare. Celestia cares for you. But we are sisters, her and I. And like me, she does not allow her compassion to stand between her and what she believes needs to be done. And now, she believes that you need to be controlled.”
“She wouldn’t do that to me. She loves me.”
For a time, Luna did not answer. The silence lingered, and Twilight peered into the darkness, seeking some hint of Luna’s form. She found nothing.
“You will make your own decisions,” Luna spoke, still with the skeleton’s hollow whisper. “You will decide for yourself what you think of my sister. You will decide for yourself what you think of my advice. But however questionable you find my council, you know in your heart I have never lied to you. I will never lie to you. That was your fear talking.”
“I…” Twilight had to swallow -- to force her throat to relax. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”
Luna said nothing, and after a time, Twilight went on: “What did you want to show me?”
Electrical busses snapped behind Twilight, and when she turned around, she was back in the mountain core, statues of earth ponies all around her. But the light was not steady, and it flickered above her. She could see one of the lamps there, attached to the underside of the great skeleton's rib. The wiring was frayed.
“Right. I remember that light,” Twilight said after a few moments to catch her breath. “The tunnel was dim when Celestia and I walked through it, and it burned out later when I was inside.”
“Why is this part of the city lit by substandard electrical lamps, when the unicorn parts of the city are lit by proper firefly lanterns?”
“Well…” Twilight managed. “They’re poor. Electrical lamps are cheaper.”
“Do they pay for the lamps out of pocket? Did your family pay for your own street lighting directly?”
“I… no.” Twilight hesitated for several moments. “I’m not actually sure why it’s different.”
Again, a bank of electrical switches snapped behind Twilight. When she turned back, Celestia’s office was gone. Instead, she found herself just a few dozen yards to the left of Jump Cut’s apartment. There were her and Celestia, just about to knock on the door, but it wasn’t the door she was looking at. It was the store selling lottery tickets.
“So what?” she asked. “Everypony gambles sometimes. It can be fun. My dad plays poker with his work friends once in awhile.”
“But have you ever seen a store like this in the good part of town?”
“No,” Twilight said. She paused. “I’m… not sure why that’s different either.”
Lights snapped around her, turning from flood lamps into spotlights. The lamps highlighted statues all around her: the workers leaning on their tools, the young colts hanging out on the street corners, the merchants selling cheap wares out of carts instead of from proper stores.
“I… I see that. I see the pattern.” Twilight bit her lip. “But what does any of this have to do with Celestia’s lesson?”
Twilight’s only answer was the ringing of an alarm clock.
“-inside the intact cell nucleus. Conversely, producing three or more daughter cells instead of normal two is a mitotic error called tripolar mitosis or multipolar mitosis, and is most commonly observed in certain species of fungi.” Twilight sat up straight, ears alert and a smile on her face as she rattled off the answer. She clearly knew she had it, and Celestia couldn’t help but smile back.
“Very good.” It was a beautiful spring day, and they were out on the balcony, enjoying the sunlight and the warm air as they worked their way through an afternoon’s lesson. “If you’re ready then, I do think Professor Slime Mold will let you skip straight to the final exam.”
“Thank you, Princess.” Twilight gave a giddy little tap of her hooves, and blushed with embarrassment a moment later.
Celestia’s horn glowed, and she lifted the chalkboard eraser from where it sat, quickly clearing the board. “Shall we move on to your magic lessons then?”
“Almost! I do have one more report. I’m sorry it took so long, buuuuut…” Twilight pulled a thick bundle of paper out of her saddle bag, dropping it in front of Celestia. “It’s my proposal for improving education in the mountain core! Just like you asked. Sorry it took so long, I wanted to take the time to triple-check my sources.”
“Well, this is exhaustive.” Celestia picked up the bundle of paper, which was nearly a full inch thick. “I shall have to take the time to read it properly this evening. May I get the summary now?”
“It has three main points,” Twilight rattled her words off in a quick, clipped manner. “First, I recommend requiring by law that the Municipal Works Department spend an equal amount of money per capita on each district proportionate to its population. While I can’t name any one official for bad behavior, their overall spending pattern clearly favors certain parts of town over others. Second, ban lotteries as a means of governmental revenue generation, since they effectively amount to a tax on being poor.”
Celestia stared, as Twilight went on oblivious to the long look. “Third, ban race-exclusive educational institutions, and where such institutions exist, obligate them to admit new students or merge with other schools. For instance, much as I love the School for Gifted Unicorns,” she gave a little half-smile, “is there really any benefit at this point to it being distinct from the Diamond Shoals Academy? Of course, the earth pony and pegasus students won’t be able to take the magic courses. But there’s a lot of other shared content: history, math, biology. The increase in efficiency alone should—”
Celestia raised a hoof. Twilight instantly fell silent.
“Twilight,” Celestia said gently, “did somepony help you write this?”
“Uh… no.” Twilight swallowed. “It’s entirely original. Why do you ask?”
“Did you get the ideas from somewhere? Magazine? Book? Leaflet?”
“No.” She shook her head. “All primary sources. And some of the reference books in the library. Is there a problem?”
“This wasn’t really what I had in mind,” Celestia put a hoof over the report, and gestured out to the city. “I was looking for something closer to a scholarship. Like the sort that helped Jump Cut. You learned a valuable lesson about charity, remember?”
“Yes, Princess. And I’m going to do a lot more to help Jump Cut myself. I talked with my dad and we’ll be visiting her family soon.” Twilight nodded quickly. “But, Jump Cut is precisely the problem. She’s very talented, and so she worked hard, and came up here, and as soon as she graduates she wants to move to another city, or at least to the nice part of Canterlot. It’s an effect called brain drain. The way it works is, a neighborhood is awful, so all the smartest and most capable ponies work hard to leave, so they leave, so nobody can fix anything, so it stays…”
Twilight trailed off, watching Celestia’s face. Her mentor suddenly seemed so tired, and her hoof raised to her face, trying to rub the stress lines away. “Did… did I do something wrong?”
Celestia took in a deep breath. Slowly, she let it out. “No. No, Twilight, you didn’t. Quite the opposite. You are apparently a startlingly insightful young mare. Every time I think I’ve found an end to your talents, you manage to surprise me.” Celestia managed a weak smile, and Twilight did smile back. “But I cannot implement your proposal. Were that I were a tyrant and could rule the realm with an iron hoof. But I rule with the consent of my ponies. And the unicorns of Canterlot will not consent to this.”
Twilight’s smile flickered, and then turned to a frown. “But it’s not fair. Poverty in this city has nothing to do with bad luck. The entire system is rigged to make sure earth ponies stay where they are!”
“And a century ago, it was rigged to make sure they stayed illiterate,” Celestia spoke calmly, but the warmth was gone from her tone, replaced with a certain grimness Twilight had not before heard. “And two centuries before that, it wasn’t rigged at all, because it was perfectly acceptable to publically pass a law forbidding them from setting hoof on the mountainside or owning books. I have guided this city one day at a time to becoming better than it is. And a century hence, maybe it…”
She let out a little breath, and tapped Twilight’s report. “Maybe it will work this way. But not today.”
After a moment, Twilight spoke. “And that’s why you do so much charity. Because it helps a little at least, and the unicorn population doesn’t find it threatening. It’s dressing things up in a way they’ll accept.”
Celestia nodded. Her eyes went to the floor.
Twilight watched her mentor’s gaze fall, and then in a flash of purple light, she was by Celestia’s side. She rested her hoof over Celestia’s, and Celestia turned to look at her.
“If you think it’s best for it to be that way for now,” Twilight said, “then that’s best. I trust you, Princess. I’m a little disappointed you can’t fix everything just yet, but… you’d never do anything wrong if it wasn’t strictly necessary.”
Celestia’s ears twitched. She stared at Twilight for some moments, her eyes seeking something in the young mare’s face. “Do you truly mean that, Twilight?”
“Of course!” Twilight smiled. “I’m your faithful student, remember? And I know you love me.”
Celestia let out a sharp breath. Her head lowered. “I… suppose that I do.” She needed a moment to collect herself. “I’m very proud of you, Twilight. Thank you.”
She reached out and pulled Twilight tight into a hug. Twilight hugged her back.
