//------------------------------// // Inspection Infliction // Story: A Series Of Egotistical Events // by Estee //------------------------------// Technically, it wasn't Rainbow's first house. When her magic had originally reached the point where it had been possible for her to start working on cloud constructs of her own, she'd done what any number of pegasus teens ultimately tried, especially for the ones who wanted to pretend they were fully the masters of their own lives and having somepony else still paying all the bills just showed how complete their mastery was. Not that Rainbow had really gone through that kind of rebellious stage: having the greatest parents in the world helped there. But she'd still gone out and put together a swagger-lair, because it was a chance to practice the skills she was assuredly going to need after she left home -- -- home was west: she could feel that, it took an effort not to feel it -- -- and besides, she could so totally beat that measly one-story effort which Watership was just barely making hold together: the one where his balcony had nearly drifted off while he was still on it. She was better than that, and the best way to make sure everypony knew it was to prove it. Swagger-lairs tended to be basic. Just about everypony could manage a bedroom, or at least a carved-out hollow which passed for same. More than a few screams rang out across the clouds on the first nights when a new resident discovered that plumbing didn't magically arrange itself. In Rainbow's case, she had great parents, and so her father carefully instructed her on some of the finer points of the technique: varying the density in different sections, making sure there was enough moisture for a proper support weaving, and -- molding. Molding was essential, because that was what made a structure stable, resistant to further changes made by anypony except the owner. A lair which hadn't been properly molded could be freely manipulated by any pegasi who were in the neighborhood and were in the mood for a really good prank, like the sort of thing where you carved the floor of somepony's bedroom out from under them and then pushed their sleeping bodies all the way to the outskirts of Cloudsdale. Or better yet, left them blissfully asleep just above the school's front doors right up until the moment the first bell went off -- -- anyway, Rainbow had practiced. She'd known from the start that she would be making her own house. It would be hers. Admittedly, there were ways in which it pretty much had to be. One of the things about the molding technique was that any cloud structure needed a pegasus resident in order to remain stable. It was possible to transfer something to a new owner or even take over a place which had been fully abandoned, but buildings which had been empty for too long -- well, in pegasus real estate, there were generally three categories for condition: Like New, Fixer-Upper, and Free Building Material Rapidly Drifting Apart Here! One of Rainbow's teachers had said it made pegasus archeology into a frustrating pursuit, and she'd written those words down in her notes in order to properly forget them five seconds after the exam ended. But when it came to molding, she'd truly studied. There had been hours spent paging through architecture magazines, looking for aspects she could incorporate and then outclass. And shortly before the completely unwelcome intruder had arrived, Rainbow had wrapped up five days of pushing, prodding, and molding, just about the only things she'd done at all since crossing the new settled zone's border... She was completely sure she'd never used so much magic over a long stretch in her life. (The single Rainboom had taken more out of her, but that had been a one-surge feat and -- she was still trying to figure out how she could get it back.) And in trying to follow the intruder, the high-snouted pegasus who was sniffing to herself as she stomped around Rainbow's new home, testing the floor, poking at the walls, looking for weak spots which Rainbow was sure didn't exist -- well, the just-concluded effort had left her staggering slightly, at least during those moments when the intruder was focusing completely on those totally perfect walls and Rainbow felt free to let all four knees sag. It seemed to take a lot of effort to straighten again when the intruder glanced back at her, and no effort would have made Rainbow's labor-soaked feathers preen themselves. (She was also a little shaken, far more than she should have been. She'd seen something the other day, and it was very much still with her. Back with her, after having spent a long time away.) "The molding appears to be -- adequate," the older mare finally said, a split-second before her left forehoof made one final stomping attempt to create the lie. She wasn't looking at Rainbow. She was staring at the closest wall as if willing it to break apart under the force of her gaze. Rainbow fumed. It wasn't adequate. It was perfect. The first pony to visit her new home, and it was an intruder marching around, taking notes, sniffing and stomping and judging her... She hated being judged, especially when she knew she'd done everything perfectly and everypony else was just making stuff up. "Yeah," Rainbow said, because to say much of anything else would have quickly led to some rather interesting vocabulary. "The outdoor fountains are also adequate." A long pause. "That is to say, they are adequate in their support. Don't you find them to be more than a little -- ostentatious?" "...yeah," Rainbow eventually replied. "They totally are. Completely ostentatious and everything." They'd been so ostentatious as to almost call out for her to blow most of her decoration money on them. She'd practically heard them from four store aisles away, and they had addressed her by name. The mare finally turned. Sienna fur shifted around her nostrils as the high snout produced another soft snort. "Your plumbing," the mare declared, a faint note of surprise suffusing the superiority-clogged voice, "is actually in order. Including the evaporation stations." And back to pure I'm-Better-Than-You, a tone which made Rainbow itch to make the mare prove it. "You do understand that you will need to clean out what's left of the -- solids -- every so often, when capacity is reached? We hardly wish to inspire any jokes about passing beneath pegasi residences or worse, beneath any particular pegasus." That made Rainbow blink. "Isn't there a pucky crew?" They came by once a season, at the very end of that season's last moon, they were a more reliable way of telling when there was about to be a major weather team effort than looking for the flocks moving out of the Weather Bureau -- "There would be in a pegasus settlement," the mare replied. "If you insist on maintaining a sky residence in a mixed community with very few cloud homes, you must expect that Town Hall's civic maintenance budget will first account for the majority of residents. This is Ponyville." Her feathers rustled. "And so you will clean up after yourself. Do you understand?" "...yeah," Rainbow finally said, still wondering if there was any possible way to close her own nostrils. "Very well," the mare said. "In that case, Miss Dash, I am both fully prepared and --" the tiniest of smiles briefly played over thin lips "-- surprisingly somewhat pleased to present you with --" Rainbow forced herself to wait. To be told she'd been perfect -- "-- a conditional fail." Her mouth fell open. Some of the more interesting portions of her vocabulary, all learned during summers spent on Gilda's ranch, began to rush towards the gap. "I failed?" The only thing keeping it from being a full scream was the lack of energy. "Conditionally," the town's building inspector sniffed. "The residence is safe to occupy, at least when it comes to its molding. Your techniques are fully adequate. But --" "-- but what?" Getting ready for some of the foulest curses now, and slamming her teeth together would substitute for the clacking of a beak. The mare took a slow breath. It wasn't an answer. "What did I do?" What did this bitch of a mare think Rainbow had done? "You have," the older pegasus said, "no fire alarm and suppression system." Rainbow blinked. "It's a small detail," the mare shrugged. "And it is the sort of thing which the young do tend to forget in their first true constructs. As the rest of your residence is adequate, I am prepared to let you occupy it -- for now. But I will return for a fresh inspection in --" She nosed the pad which was attached to the severe blouse by a long flexible spring, flipped through several pages. "-- hmmm. The earliest date I have available is one week from today. However, I encourage you to purchase and install tomorrow morning." "I'm a pegasus," Rainbow said, just in case the other mare in her living room had somehow managed to overlook that. "Yes," the mare said. Her feathers rustled again. "As am I. Looking beyond my wings, I was rather hoping that the fact of my being within your residence instead of having fallen to the vacant lot beneath it would have given you the hint." She missed most of the sarcasm. "I can put out fires. Any pegasus could --" "-- yes," the mare calmly agreed. "Small ones, certainly, started with conventional materials. Any pegasus could do that --" and with a surge in volume "-- when they are awake. Miss Dash, ponies sleep through fires. They sleep because they are tired, because the fire starts in another room, because the fumes fill the air and keep them asleep, and the next time they open their eyes is in the shadowlands. You will install a fire alarm and suppression system. It will be here when I return. If it is not, I have the authority to evict you from this residence and keep you out until either such a system exists in this residence or the house has dispersed. I could block you from sleeping here tonight if I so wished, and I am only allowing you to occupy this structure because your adequacy in all other aspects has been established to my satisfaction. I would, however, discourage you from attempting to cook tonight. You have forgotten one simple thing, just one when others overlook so many. Correct it." The curses jammed together in Rainbow's throat, leaving only silence to fall out. "I have the authority to approve this house," the mare told her. "And once the single flaw has been corrected, I will do exactly that. Good day, Miss Dash. Sleep well. Eat something from the raw bar: we have a fine vegetable medley available three blocks away, and they are open until ten. And install what you have missed." She turned, began to trot away. One desperate syllable broke free. "I -- !" A glance back. "Yes?" Which was when the thought finally made it through. She can approve my house. That means she can condemn it. It's my house... "I'll... I'll..." Trying to buy time, seconds in which she could force her heartbeat back to normal, "...Miss...?" She vaguely recalled the mare introducing herself shortly after Rainbow had opened the front door, and she definitely remembered dismissing the name as being completely unimportant. A small snort informed Rainbow about the mare's impression of her memory. "Cruelneigh," the older pegasus replied. "Mrs. Cruelneigh." (Rainbow briefly questioned the romantic standards of a pony she'd never met.) "I would hope you would remember that for our next meeting, and perhaps even keep in mind that my entire extended family is in government service. The Cruelneighs, the Bleaknickers, the Harshwhin --" "-- I'll install the stuff," Rainbow forced out. "But I can't do it tomorrow morning. I've got my first shift tomorrow, and they want me there early. I have to wait until after that." It got her a small nod. "Understandable. When you can, then. I shall see myself out." The mare looked away, resumed her trot towards the door -- -- paused. Facing away, "Miss Dash?" The word had been working so far. "Yeah?" "Do you know what 'ostentatious' means?" She took her best guess. "Cool?" Silence. "Radical? ...awesome?" Mrs. Cruelneigh snorted. Trotted away. Rainbow stood stock-still in the middle of her living room (still so empty, waiting for her first pay voucher to arrive before she could add more of the essentials), thinking. Fuming. Mostly fuming. And there was something else under the anger, a feeling she didn't want to acknowledge just yet. She'd been judged. And in that judgment, she'd been found wanting. Inadequate. (Also, ostentatious. Whatever that meant.) Eventually -- after far too long, more time than it would have taken on any other day, and totally not after she took one quick look at her bare kitchen to make sure the lone burner was turned off -- she fell asleep.