//------------------------------// // Chapter Six: Showtime! (Part 1) // Story: Grounder // by JustAnotherEarthPony //------------------------------// Ah, showtime. A phrase as old as the theaters, it is usually only appropriate when used by someone who is perfectly calm and confident in the shows success, even before it begins. Magic, the human kind that is, is all about certainty and calm. It is exceedingly easy to convince another person that whatever you’re saying is true if you say it in an absolutely convincing manner, even if that confidence is completely fake. On the flipside, show even the smallest smidgen of doubt and the whole thing goes kaput. That applies to job interviews, leaderships over businesses and of course, everything a magician does. An illusion can only be maintained if you appear to be absolutely certain of the ultimate result. If you ask any magician worth their salt, they’ll tell you half the trick relies on the audience’s expectation that they’ll be awed. So even if something goes wrong, it is very easy for the magician to bluff and say it was all planned from the beginning. So it was that I walked into the School for Gifted Unicorns with absolute confidence and wasn’t even questioned by the guards at the door. After all, when someone walks in like they belong somewhere and have something to do in that place, the common reaction is for most people to do nothing. As the saying goes, there is a great strength in ‘acting like you belong’. It was only once I talked to the receptionist that I got some sort of response… Although it wasn’t much of one. “Excuse me, could you tell me where I’m supposed to deliver my sign-up papers?” “Third floor, door to the left” she said, busy writing down on some parchment on her desk. For a receptionist, she sure wasn’t all that welcoming. “Thank you.” I said, then climbed up the stairs. A difficult task in four hooves; trust me when I say your dog makes it look a lot easier than it is... Walking up to the door, I managed to turn the doorknob by standing up on my two back hooves. Let it be known, a pony back was not made for bipedal standing, and it hurt quite a bit to attempt to do so. I suppose being short is one of the main disadvantages of being a foal, but it was still annoying. I moved forwards, ignoring the twinges from my back, and sat down in the chair in front of a desk. Behind that desk was a unicorn wearing a suit over his top half with a bowtie at the end. He had a dark gray mane with some lighter gray hairs throughout. His coat color was a dark brown, but his eyes were the same dark gray as his mane, and he looked composed. “Ah, you must be young Lost Hope, correct?” he asked in a polite-to the point-manner. “I see that my reputation precedes me.” I answered with a smirk. I had to act in a self-assured manner. The show had already begun. “Yes, quite. Well, I must say I was most interested in your application. It is not common that an earth pony applies to our institution, but you do know that you will be tested fairly and as such will receive the same tests as the next pony?” he said in an official-sounding voice, as if reading a script. Message received. ‘You will be tested on magic and if this ends up being a joke, consider your life over.’ “Thank you.” I said on the outside, while on the inside I was grinning. Same as the next pony, huh? That was the first piece of the Millennium Puzzle. “Alright. With that note, your application has been accepted. Please come in three days for your examinations. Just so you understand, there will first be a theoretical test, then a practical one. Your first test shall be in classroom 203, while your practical will be held in the practice room on the second floor. Remember to bring a guardian with you.” he told me once again in his official-script voice. “Thank you very much.” I said, bowing out of the room. Finally, after two consecutive days of battling the bureaucracy that was the official sign-up papers, I had my shot at the school… And Mr. SeriousFace had just dropped a hint that I was going to exploit to the fullest. I had my stage, and I had my show date. All that was left was to prepare the script, ready the actors and be ready for the big reveal by Act 3. Almost all magic shows rely on the spectator's position. There’s many variants, of course. While the most well known magic is stage magic, where the magician is below or above a seated crowd, there are many lesser known variants. From close-up magic to street magic, it usually depends on the relative distance between spectator and magician. Some tricks can only be pulled off when you’re facing one person close to you, while others are more applicable for a far-off crowd. Another key difference between the different magic styles was resources. In general, a street magician could only do so many tricks before they run out of material to work with, after which they’d usually pull out their hat and ask for coins. On the opposite side of the spectrum, a stage magician could pull off an innumerable number of tricks because their whole environment was a gigantic resource. The chair over there? Planned for this trick. That desk? He can disappear below it. The curtains? Part of the grand finale. So when I was told the exact room I’d do my practical on, I decided that the best way to pull off this particular stunt was to learn about it. According from what I could remember from the show, there sadly wasn’t much to work with. Twilight was standing in front of a blackboard, with the teachers behind a row of seats. Then they roll the egg in… I assumed that wasn’t the only way to get into the school, but it was the only one I knew about. So, the obvious answer was to do some digging. Canterlot public library didn’t have anywhere near the amount of academic books that the school for Gifted Unicorns had. But, it did have most records of pony activities inside it, so I hoped to find some sort of idea as to what kind of tests were done for applying unicorns in the past. Sadly, it seemed pony librarians had their own secret society were they decided who was allowed to walk in undisturbed and who was… well… “Excuse me ma’m, do you know where I can find the records of ‘Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns’ practical tests?” I asked, trying to sound as official as I could while inwardly cringing at the look the mare was giving me. “And why would you need the records for an only unicorn school, young colt?” she asked in a suspicious voice, apparently not happy with my looks. “Well… my sister is applying! And she wanted to know what they were testing with in the past!” I lied lamely, feeling like I was being x-rayed by her narrowed gaze. Funny how you could do that considering how large pony eyes were though… “... I suppose, in that case. They can be found on the second floor, fifth shelf to the left.” she told me, leaving it in no uncertain terms that she did not believe me. I managed to barely get away from another librarian who didn’t like me. Was it my dashing good looks? Regardless, I happened to find the records book and sat down by a nearby empty desk to read it… And soon, I realized that this was going to be difficult. Apparently, there were two ways to pass the practical exam. Number one, you can perform the specific tests the teachers at the time will tell you to do; usually level 3. This is how Twilight did it, since she was asked to hatch open Spike’s egg. The fact that they did it non-verbally is also part of the test, because as long as you can figure out some way of achieving what is depicted in the picture they give you, you pass. For example, Twilight managed to hatch Spike’s egg with her magic, which allowed her to pass. However, the picture depicted the egg broken in half, with a dragon in the middle. So if she had managed to perform an aging spell and caused the egg to hatch naturally, that would also count as a pass. Technically, I suppose if she had managed to summon a dragon on top of the egg and have it break the egg, that would also pass. But at her age, that was rather unlikely. On the other hand, the other way of getting in is a show of magical prowess beyond the norm. If the unicorn that is trying to get in can perform any magic that is level 4 or above, they can pass automatically. If I had to guess, that would be one way for someone like Shining Armor to pass. His cutie mark is all about shields, which are level 5 magic. As soon as I read that, I quickly concluded that there was no way I was getting in unless I choosed the second option. The fact that there was no consistency on what sort of spell I would be asked to perform meant that the examiners could, no, would pick something that would be impossible for me to perform. I can’t really fake an energy beam, and there was no way they were giving me something lesser than level 3. Alright. So how was I going to emulate magic that practically warped reality and broke all human laws of physics… Ah. Of course. Well, let’s just say it was a good thing I’d been saving up my allowance... “Hope?” I heard being called as soon as I entered the waiting room. “Huh?” I looked around, then spotted a certain lavender filly next to her parents. “Oh, hey Twilight, how’s it going?” I asked casually, trying to ignore the increasing sense of dread. I sat down in the chair next to her, about two chairs away from where her parents were sitting while waiting for the practical to begin. “I think I made a mistake! Question 2b was about levitation, but my answer was only half a page long! Do you think I could ask to retake the test?” she asked me desperately, somehow not happy with the theory test we had just finished doing. “Uh, well if I remember correctly, my response was about two lines.” I grinned sheepishly, hoping to whoever is up there that this would not lead to more questions about what I thought I got right. “Oh. Well, you were probably more detailed and concise anyway.” she said, apparently trying to reassure me while bringing herself down. Typical Twilight. “Hey, don’t worry about it ‘kay? I’m sure you’ll do fine. I think we should just worry about the practice exam now.” I smiled at her, trying to get her mind off anything but what laid ahead. “THAT’S RIGHT! How are you going to pass it? You never told me!” she all but screamed, apparently having recalled our conversation at the library. Her parents looked up and started trotting our way, probably with the intention of telling Twilight not to scream and cause a scene. Of course as soon as she said that, almost everyone in the room turned to me. I saw several widen their eyes as they looked at my forehead, some even facehoofed at my apparent stupidity. “Excuse me, do you know Twilight?” Twilight’s father said as he and his wife walked over to our seats. “Oh. Uh, yeah sure. We went to school together. I don’t suppose she mentioned me?” I asked, actually curious about Twilight’s opinion of me. “Well, she didn’t really talk about school much aside from what she was learning. But now that you mention it, she did talk about a strange gray earth pony she met on her first day. Would that be you?” Twilight’s mother asked. At the time, I wished I knew their names. As far as the canon up to where I saw it went, they were never officially named. “I imagine that would be me, yeah. Lost Hope, at your service.” “Twilight Velvet.” “Night Light.” Huh. So fanon names then. Just one more suspicious coincidence to add to the pile. Immediately afterwards, a door opened and an exhausted Emerald Dream walked into the room. “Whew...I made it!” she gasped, trying to recover her breath. “Hello Hope…” “Hello, Ms. Emerald. You’re just in time. Thanks a lot for coming over; this would be impossible without you.” She glanced at the ponies looking at me, then at Twilight and her parents. “Uh, excuse me Ms. Emerald, but are you perhaps Hope’s guardian?” I heard Twilight Velvet ask nervously. “Yes…” “Well, I hope you don’t mind if I ask why is he trying to enter this particular school? I have nothing against a change in policy, but this is a unicorn only school…” she trailed off, apparently recognizing Emerald’s upraised hoof as a ‘stop’ sign. “He asked for it. He said it was his calling and as a headmistress and caretaker of many young foals, I will support him in reaching his dream.” she said with conviction, the loud conversation from about a week ago forgotten. I also realized that I had probably hit some sort of chord within her, considering her name was Emerald Dream. I was saved from having to hear the response to that statement by the bell ringing and a security pony opening the door to the practice room. “Lost Hope?” “I’m here!” I said loudly, trying to draw the attention of the stallion, despite my low stature. “You’re up. Please come in with your guardian.” he said in a bored tone. I quickly grabbed Emerald’s hoof and pulled her away from the conversation and onto the stage. Showtime.