//------------------------------//
// Excursion 
// Story: Foreign Nationals of Unusual Importance 
// by Dave Bryant 
//------------------------------//

I stared in slightly bleary bemusement as my phone’s buzzing resonated on the cultured-stone countertop and started it edging across the smooth surface, like a plastic playing figure on my father’s ancient electric football game. Its screen lit up with the originating number and the legend Sunset Shimmer, which only redoubled my surprise. Still, regardless of the early hour, I couldn’t ignore a call from her of all people. I put down my forkful of scrambled egg, fumbled the phone into a paw, and cleared my throat.
“Hello?” My voice still was a bit rusty this soon after waking up—I’ve never been a morning person—but at least it was comprehensible.
“Hey there!” The now-familiar, slightly throaty voice was breezy and wide awake.
I leaned an elbow on the counter and rubbed my eyes with the fingers of that hand. “What’s up?”
“Busy this afternoon?”
Taken aback, I left off the rubbing and asked in genuine puzzlement, “What did you have in mind?”
“We could meet up around noon for lunch, then maybe see some of the city. The girls are off doing other things—summer work, mostly—and I’ll bet you’re still learning your way around. I figured I could play trusty guide. Maybe not native, but close enough these days.”
“Let me think,” I stalled. A hasty mental review confirmed nothing time-sensitive was on my original schedule for the day. “Okay, I can swing that. Where?”
From my investigations I recognized the name of the coffee shop she suggested, but when I opened my mouth to inject a cautionary note, the imp of the perverse whispered in my ear. I switched to, “Sounds good. I’ll see you there at noon.”


I pushed open the double-leaf glass door set in a bevel off the street corner and, on entering, glanced around the rather generic-looking diner. Sunset, clad in her trademark short dress, leggings, and leather jacket against the air-conditioned chill, sat facing me in the far end booth along the side of the dining hall on my left. Chin on palm, she stared pensively out the picture window beside her at the busy street. A cup of coffee steamed gently on the table in front of her, probably refilled in the last few minutes. I guessed she’d arrived early enough to drift into a brown study while waiting; besides, despite turn-by-turn directions I was a few minutes late, still not completely accustomed to local traffic patterns and street grids.
Sunset wasn’t the only CHS student in the mostly full room, though there were fewer than I expected. I suppressed a grin and sauntered toward her booth. When I was close enough I commented, just loudly enough to be heard over the ambient surf-noise of conversation, “A penny for your thoughts?”
She jumped and whipped her head around. “Cook! For—” She bit off whatever blue curse, from her homeland I suspected, she was about to utter. “Sneaking up on me like that,” she grumbled instead with a disapproving scowl as I slid onto the bench opposite.
Deadpan, I remarked, “I can’t help it if you weren’t paying attention.”
Her eye-roll was eloquent. “Why do I get the feeling your awful sense of humor was one of the reasons you got this job?”
“Maybe.” I picked up the menu awaiting me. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
The pause that followed drew my eye back to her. She, in turn, looked down into her cup as if it were a scrying pool, her hands folded around it. “Everything. Nothing.” She sighed and flung up her hands, though without raising her arms. “I’d say ‘don’t worry about it’, but the whole reason you’re here is to worry about it.”
I put down the menu and let my smile slide away. “Okay, yes. I’m a spy, at least in the conversational sense of the word. We both know that. But that’s not the only reason I’m keeping an eye on you, or even the only reason I was sent to keep an eye on you.” When her expression turned dubious, I flipped a hand, also without raising my arm. “I won’t deny it was the main reason, but if it was the sole reason, the whole thing would have been handled completely differently. And no, I’m not going to explain how, mostly because it would be long-winded and boring—and irrelevant.”
She flashed a brief smile that didn’t reach her eyes, but before she could speak, a movement in the corner of our eyes brought our heads up. Two of Sunset’s schoolmates took another couple of steps before stopping beside our table, both wearing similar sun dresses and identically concerned expressions. I raised my brows and sat back.
“Is everything okay, Sunset?” asked the mint-green girl. Her pale-yellow companion elaborated with, “You’re not having any trouble here, are you?” Both of them favored me with distrustful sidelong looks.
“Uh, everything’s fine, Lyra—Sweetie. This is, ah, Mister Cook. He’s, um—”
Conscience and larger concerns moved me to intervene. “I’m Sunset’s case worker. She’s doing fine, but she’s still a student on her own, so I’ve been assigned to keep an eye on her and make sure she keeps doing fine. If there’s a major problem, I’m supposed to call in a full-fledged social worker, but I’m qualified to handle her normal routine or small, simple difficulties. Most of her friends are busy today, and I’m still fairly new in town, so she thought lunch and a city tour would kill two birds with one stone. Right, Sunset?”
“Yeeeah.” Realization colored Sunset’s drawn-out acknowledgement. “It’s no big deal, girls. I just needed someone to talk things over with, and like he said, the rest of the gang are off working or dealing with other stuff.”
With complete sincerity I added, “I’m pleased to see Sunset has so many friends who care so much about her.”
They smiled, flattered, but still stuck around long enough to assure themselves all really was well before heading back to their table and the bill that awaited them. The moment they were out of earshot, Sunset leaned forward and hissed, “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
I let a grin blossom. “Yes. Yes I did. When you proposed this place, I had a feeling something like that would happen. Next question.”
She blinked and her mouth flapped a couple of times before she managed, “Uh. Yeah. Why didn’t you say something if you knew that would happen?”
Blandly I returned, “I have a better one. Why didn’t you think of it, Ms. Smart-enough-to-create-a-new-identity-from-whole-cloth?”
After a couple of seconds she replied in a small voice, “I don’t know. I . . . just didn’t.”
“I do. This place is within easy reach, affordable, and comfortably familiar.” This time my smile was crooked but, I hoped, sympathetic. “More importantly, you like it, and you trust your classmates—and vice versa.” The implication she trusted me as well I kept to myself.
Her expression was one of dawning revelation, and she looked around with fresh eyes. “I guess I do. Both.”
I couldn’t resist. “And you’ve fallen out of the habit of scheming.”
She turned back and made a face, but her good humor was restored. “You’re terrible, Cook.”
I raised the menu again. “I work hard at it.”


The place turned out to be “neighborhood good”—not worth driving across town for, unless there was some overriding reason like mine, but more than adequate to become a staple if one lived nearby, as Sunset did. By tacit agreement, during the meal we kept the conversation focused on the day’s itinerary. After the uniformed and aproned waitress laid the little black folder on the table between us, Sunset didn’t contest it when I solemnly pulled out a wad of cash, but did insist on paying her share.
Only as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, double door swinging shut behind us, did Sunset pounce. “That song and dance you gave Lyra and Sweetie—did you just make that up on the spot?” Her tone was notably suspicious.
“Nope.” I swept a hand in the direction of the shiny black government-fleet mid-range sedan parked nearby. “Every word of it is true.”
She stopped in the midst of pulling off her jacket under the warm summer sun. “You’re kidding!”
“Wanna see my documentation?” I reached for my wallet, but she shook her head hastily. “Between the time I accepted the assignment and the flight out, I was run ragged. Part of it was taking the tests and getting certified for the social-services job. It’s a great cover; it works for everyone, whether they know what’s really going on or not, and it actually does satisfy the legal requirement. But it is kind of awkward.”
“Why—oh. Yeah, I guess it would be.” To my relief, she dropped the subject, and we set off on our peregrinations.


Initially casual, Sunset grew more eager as the afternoon progressed, and we ended up bouncing all over the valley in a frenetic steeplechase that rarely slowed down. There always was one more thing to see, one more place to check out. Sometimes it was a new discovery even for her; in other cases it was a favorite haunt she wanted to share with the ardor of a transplant for her adopted home. A few times we got lost, but even then serendipity was around the corner as often as not.
Her enthusiasm was infectious—and well deserved. Every metropolis has its seamy side, of course, but this city was as lovely as any I’d ever seen. We visited quiet residential neighborhoods, thriving business districts, and everything in between, leaving aside wide berths to avoid bumping into any of the other Rainbooms and thereby derailing our plan, such as it was. My tourguide kept up an almost constant patter, liberally laced with anecdotes, by turns humorous and personal or stilted and historical.
The panorama from the observatory perched above downtown was magnificent. Sunset assured me Sci-Twi adored the place, and I should take the tour when I had a chance. The stadium on the outskirts of town, not far from the highway by which I’d arrived, was like most of its kind a local landmark. Since neither of us was a big sports fan, we saw it mostly in passing, but I gathered it was more central to Rainbow Dash’s life. We even swung by the movie studio the whole group of them recently toured, though we didn’t go inside; for my professional edification Sunset provided more details on that unexpectedly dramatic outing.
By the time we headed away from the studio lot on a nearby boulevard, the sun balanced on the ridgeline that made for sudden and brief dusks. It had been an unexpectedly enjoyable—and tiring—day, but we’d managed to work our way from one side of the valley to the other. We had one last stop before we would call it a day.