//------------------------------//
// The Science of Hugging, Part I 
// Story: The Science of Hugging 
// by Impossible Numbers 
//------------------------------//

On her way through the town’s grassy streets, venturing through the  wilderness of society, Dinky the Discoverer counted six acts of hugging.

This was unusual, even for Ponyville. As a rule, there were at least ten.

Back  in the mists of time, when the world outside had been as awe-inspiring  as a no-mare’s-land and strangers had walked like giants, she’d started  the habit of quiet observation on her way to the schoolhouse. Not that  the journey was uninteresting, but she saw the cottages and hedgerows  and trees all the time, and background stuff like that lost its allure  fast. Too tame for her sense of adventure. No: ponies were much more  rewarding.

Today, the first hug had been between her and Derpy,  but it was technically during her walk, and it had given her a boost, so  it counted. The second and third had been between Apple Bloom and her  friends, though the one for Scootaloo might have been a tackle. The  fourth, fifth, and sixth had all been from Pinkie Pie to random ponies,  but everyone knew her so they didn’t mind much, or at least didn’t blush  or struggle much these days.

Yet these were the only warm patches  on an otherwise cool morning. Outside the florist’s, Lily arranged  flowers and did not hug Roseluck, so possibly some temporary spat had  broken out there like Elm’s Disease. Best avoided, in that case.  Meanwhile, Fluttershy wandered through town with her shopping basket and  carefully stepped around Big McIntosh coming the other way with his hay  cart… Well, nothing odd there. Fluttershy, she suspected, wasn’t much  of a hugger, and Big Mac was too polite to bother a pony going about  their business. Hardly anyone else was outside.

Hm, she thought.

Now  she turned her attention to Berryshine’s house, and that was the oddest  of all. The front door burst open. Ruby Pinch hopped out abruptly and  didn’t even look back. The door simply slammed. No one peered out of the  windows.

A very chilly morning, Dinky thought. She had to scurry to catch up; Ruby Pinch marched the determined march of a pony blazing with suppressed rage.

“Helloooo!” Dinky leaped and half-tackled, half-embraced her.

To  her own surprise, she slipped off and landed on the country lane dirt  with a thump. Ruby up ahead – still marching – hadn’t stopped for a  second.

“Wait up!” Dinky yelled, scurrying to her hooves and catching up yet again. “I didn’t even hurt you that time!”

“Yeah,” said Ruby, glaring ahead.

“Look  what I got!” Dinky’s horn sputtered and stuttered with magic. A few  seconds later, a block of yellow lifted itself out of the saddlebag and  hovered before Ruby, who slowed and blinked as though not to crash into  it.

Narrow-eyed rage flowed into eyebrow-raising suspicion.  Although Ruby hardly ever went into a rage, once worked up she struggled  to come down again.

“What is it?” she said warily.

“Topaz!”  Breathless with joy and with the effort of keeping up, Dinky continued,  “Yellow topaz! I got it last night! You know how there’s a gemstone for  every month in the unicorn calendar? Well, I got this month’s! And you  know what else? It’s the symbol of friendship! I looked it up!”

As  they walked between the hedgerows – which soon gave way to white fences  and columnar tree trunks – Ruby turned her head this way and that,  inspecting the glassy gold. Her own horn fizzed, and Dinky let go so she  could hold it telekinetically.

Not very well, she noticed. Little  spits of magic, little lights twinkling around the stone, not much of  an aura… A slight smugness mixed with worry in Dinky’s chest.

“It’s… nice,” said Ruby limply. She passed it back so fast that Dinky almost dropped it.

Now  Dinky turned her keen mind to the filly’s face. Slight shifting of the  cheeks around the jaw muscles. Flicker of eyelids wanting to narrow.  Twitching nostrils wanting to take a deep breath for shouting.

Cautiously,  Dinky shifted herself a few inches away. In the thicket of the social  jungle, any explorer had to learn to read the bush and the tree and the  leaf litter for risky signs, lest their get their head bitten off. Even  an amateur like Dinky had picked up a few tricks here and there, mostly  by watching the adults. It was amazing how much adults could teach her  about what not to do.

“You can have it, if you want,” she said, offering up the sacrifice.

Ruby watched the catch of light on the yellow block for a while, and then silently slid it into her own saddlebag. “Thanks.”

“I  know you like gems,” continued Dinky. “If anyone can appreciate topaz,  it’s you. Or Rarity. Or Ammy. Or that jeweller’s with the  wedding rings and stuff. Maybe Twilight too; I don’t know what she  likes. Oh, Spike definitely!”

“I thought you were collecting these things?” said Ruby.

“Uh… I can get another one.”

“Topaz isn’t cheap. Especially this time of year, when it’s near Harvest Moon.”

Dinky shrugged, though the thought had occurred to her too. “I can save up. Anyway, what have you got for Science Week?”

Ruby  looked at her, all trace of rage gone. She’d sent it back into its den,  at least for now. That was excellent. Much as Dinky saw things, she  didn’t necessarily know what to do with them.

“Not a clue,” Ruby mumbled.

“Oh,  how come? I’d have guessed a rock collection, or some of that lemonade  you did last year. Remember when you had all the different varieties,  and Cheerilee asked if beverages were really a science project, and you  said that Twilight said that drinks were only chemicals you could  swallow?”

“I just don’t.” At the edge of its den, rage sniffed the air.

Sensing  danger, the jungle explorer in Dinky’s brain shushed her gently. They  were silent for the rest of the journey. Sometimes, Ruby just needed a  few moments.

The schoolhouse loomed up ahead. Under her breath, Dinky counted down and then said, “Isn’t that Twilight Sparkle outside?”

To  her surprise, Ruby did not react in any way. That confirmed it: this  rage thing was a big deal. If even a Princess of Friendship couldn’t  shift it, then things were more dangerous than Dinky had bargained for.

In her mind, she retreated to camp. This wanted specialist equipment. 







Utter silence reigned in the classroom. Cheerilee’s classes were  usually silent anyway, if only because Cheerilee lived up to her name,  and if any filly or colt tried interrupting her in the middle of a  bubbly lecture on Equestrian Literature, they soon came down with a case  of the guilts.

But this time the silence was charged like a  lightning storm. Static excitement ran around the many small heads. All  gazes concentrated on the lightning rod, Princess of Friendship,  Twilight Sparkle.

No one actually paid attention to what she said.  With Cheerilee – or at least so Dinky thought – every word sincerely  suggested to the foals that they were all budding scientists, and it’d  only take a gentle guiding hoof to get them there. Whereas Twilight  bludgeoned them with facts, figures, and the enervating, hope-pulping  realization that she could go on all day if necessary.

All the  same, this was a Princess of Friendship. An actual living breathing  talking standing right there in front of us Princess of Friendship!

“…so  in fact most of the principles of modern science derive from the  miscellaneous treatises of Sundown Mane the Frank and Precise, a  classical-era scholar and viscount of St. Sabino-White. Although most  scholars agree that the Sundownian Method itself didn’t last, it laid  the groundwork for the much more refined methodology first delineated by  Scientia the Wise, an earth pony mage from the east who… Hm? Oh. Right.  And, uh, that’s a brief summary of what science actually is. Um. I hope  you understand now.”

Cheerilee stopped nudging her in the ribs  and joined in the loud applause. Dinky clapped extra hard, while beside  her Ruby limply let hooves smack together. At the front, Twilight  blushed and took a bow.

“Thank you very much, Twilight,” said  Cheerilee in what Dinky recognized was a voice straining for cheer.  “That was… a very illuminating digression… uh, lecture… talk. A very illuminating talk indeed.”

In  a whisper which nonetheless carried in the returning silence, Twilight  said behind a hoof, “You’re quite sure? I had to leave out the seven  principles of methodology, the Ancient Pegasus Empire’s pre-Hippocampus  forerunners, and the historical oversight of the Saddle Arabian  contribution.”

“No, no,” Cheerilee whispered back, “I’m quite sure  they got the gist.” Aloud, she said, “And that’s what you’ll all be  doing over the next week! Each of you will find a partner, and together  you’ll put these principles of science into practice: the idea you want  to test –”

“The hypothesis,” added Twilight helpfully.

“Yes, um… The things you need to look at to test your idea – uh, hypothesis –”

“Empirical observation.”

Cheerilee  had a brief whispered conversation behind a hoof. Unlike Twilight, she  knew how to keep her voice down around attentive little ears. Dinky and a  few others craned to hear.

“Ahem,” said Cheerilee, all smiles  again while Twilight’s ears drooped behind her own limp smile. “Thirdly,  the careful study of your results, and – lastly – what you found and  didn’t find. That’s very important. The heart of science is all about  being honest, fair, and open-minded. You have to learn from nature, be  careful, and listen well. Just like you’re doing now, in fact.”

Many foals preened themselves. Dinky could practically hear them thinking: Good listeners, yeah. That’s us. We listen like… like… like things that listen really well. Bats, maybe.

“Excellent,  my little ponies!” Cheerilee said. “Now I want you to decide amongst  yourselves who you’ll be working with and what you’ll be working on.  Twilight and I can come and help if you ask us. We’re here for you.”

“I’d be more than happy to clarify any major points, if you like!” said Twilight.

A  few seconds passed before the static charge of excitement died away: no flashes or  explosions or thunder whatsoever. Instead, it rained words. The gentle  patter of hurried conversations poured out, soon washing away the bated  breaths and widening eyes. Little scientists talked.

Dinky turned at once to Ruby. “How about us two? You can choose what you like to study, if you want.”

“Sure, but I want you to choose.” Ruby shrugged and gave her a helpless look. “I got nothing.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. I’m not in the mood for making stuff up, right now.”

“Oh,” said Dinky, who’d been hoping for the opposite. “OK.”

It  wasn’t just the hope of drawing Ruby out of her gloomy shell, though  that had loomed large in her mind. Dinky glanced about for inspiration,  now that she was actually going to have to think about things for herself.

Nearby, Diamond Tiara flagged down Twilight with an imperious wave of her hoof. “I have a question.”

“Yes? How can I help? Was it about the lecture? Because I knew I left out a few crucial details. Just say –”

“Have  you been to Canterlot recently?” said Diamond Tiara, and Dinky almost  retched. The filly was laying it on thick, blinking and smiling and  sitting up straight like she was waiting for praise.

“Huh?” Twilight frowned. “Is this question leading up to the lineage of scientific scholars in –?”

“I  meant the Royal District,” said Diamond Tiara innocently. “How many  times have you met Princess Celestia this year alone? Princess Luna?  Cadence of the Crystal Empire?”

“Uh…”

“Does Celestia gloss her hair, or is that natural? Who grooms her coat? Do they use specialist dandy brushes? Do you  need a specialist dandy brush, by any chance? Daddy says royals get all  kinds of special custom business practices, but he’s never been that  privileged.”

“This is a science question, isn’t it?” said Twilight suspiciously.

After a pause, Diamond Tiara said, “YYYYYYYYYYeah. Of course it is. It’s, uh…”

“Sociological,” said Silver Spoon, ever the second fiddle to Diamond Tiara’s full orchestra.

“Yeah, what she said. Social and logical. So I’m right, aren’t I? It’s a specialist practice.”

“Uh…”  Twilight looked about, still suspicious. “I can’t speak for Celestia,  of course, but I, uh, use what I used when I was little.”

Diamond  Tiara’s eyes lit up. “Silver Spoon, write this down pronto! Pencil,  paper, right now! Miss Sparkle, could you repeat that? What brand was  it? Could you get in touch with Celestia and ask her for her brand?”

“Sociological, huh?”

“Oh, of course! It’s about… alicorn… socio… economics. Yeah. Social science. Cultural studies: that’s kind of a science, right?”

Elsewhere,  Apple Bloom was arguing with Scootaloo. Over the fillies talking and  laughing and gasping, Dinky just made out the word “volcano”. Then  Cheerilee came over, and both combatants backed off to catch their  breaths.

“If you can’t be nice,” Cheerilee said sternly, “I might just have to separate you two.”

“But I wanted to do some air dynamics,” said Scootaloo.

“Applejack  said volcanoes are traditional,” said Apple Bloom. “And they’re  economical. It’s only bakin’ soda an’ vinegar an’ stuff like that.”

“It’s  old-school. Flying technique is changing all the time. Listen, I had  tons of ideas. If we could get Rainbow Dash onboard, think of all the  cool stuff we could learn.”

“Come off it. You jus’ wanna excuse to watch Rainbow flyin’. You can do that any ol’ time.”

“Yeah, but not in a sciency way.”

“In  fact, Ah was gonna figure out the right mix to get diff’rent effects  from them bakin’ soda and vinegar volcano things. Ah heard you could  make ‘em explode if you do it right.”

“Pfft. Blowing stuff up isn’t science.”

“Well, neither’s Wonderbolt watchin’!”

“At least it’s something modern and not embarrassing!”

“Nothin’ embarrassin’ about tryin’ different combos of volcanoes. It’s volcanoes. What’s wrong with volcanoes?”

“Fake volcanoes.”

“Fake modern science.”

“Rainbow Dash would totally –”

“But Applejack said –”

Cheerilee  shook her head over the shouting match that broke out again. Wisely,  she sidestepped them to go over to Snips and Snails, who likewise were  deep in what passed among children for philosophical debate.

Sinking  below the surface, Dinky hunched over her desk and thought. She tapped  her chin. She took up pencil and paper. She scribbled a few ideas. She  sighed. Even after the rainfall of ideas around her had died away and  Cheerilee shone with advice and last-minute helpful pointers, Dinky’s  mind was a blank and her paper was a mess.

Chemicals would stain  the carpet. Biology was too gross. And unicorn though she was, she had a  feeling that the more interesting physics were the province of a select  few. Enviously, she looked up at Twilight’s horn, at her wings, and at  her starry cutie mark.

“Any ideas?” she whispered to Ruby.

The  look on her friend’s face indicated definite negativity. On impulse,  Dinky stretched across and gave her a quick hug. Nothing lasting, but it  would give her a few minutes of warmth.

Well, she assumed it  would. Ruby never said, though sometimes she blushed a lot. Dinky didn’t  know why; it wasn’t as if her hugs squeezed hard enough to make much  friction, or anything. Ha. Maybe there was an exact science to hugging.

Cheerilee  was saying something about the week, but she barely listened. Her mind  prodded idly at floating bits of notion. Nothing stuck.

“…the key  to a good scientific study is to phrase your idea carefully. How would  you prove it? How would you try to prove it wrong? A good way of doing  that is to put it as a question, or as a mystery you have to solve.  Maybe even everyday problems can become exciting quests for knowledge,  or new frontiers to explore, or shadows to shine a light upon. Whatever  works for you.”

And then, quite unexpectedly, it did.

Dinky sat up straight.

“You got something?” said Ruby.

Giggling, Dinky whispered into her ear. But not quietly enough.

“Dinky, please!” said Cheerilee from the front. “Why are you whispering?”

“Uh oh.” Dinky swallowed and stiffened, trying to look as attentive as possible. “Um…”

“Never  mind. Will you please see me after class? Thank you.” To the room at  large, Cheerilee thumped the desk in a “go get ‘em!” manner. “All right,  my little scientists! Go out there and get some knowledge!”

The bell rang. The class cheered.

Twilight cleared her throat. “If anyone would like to stay behind, I’m more than willing to discuss…”

The stampede died away.

“…scientific… method… ology.” Twilight groaned.

Then her ears rose in delight; Diamond Tiara alone had stayed behind, and now said, “I’ve got a few questions, if I may.”

“S-Sure? Ahem. Fire away.”

Twisting  her hoof in an annoyingly cute fashion, Diamond Tiara said, “Would you  like to come over to my house? I’d love to make an early start on my  project with your help.”

“Oh, right, the… the sociological one. All right. Ahem. Uh… I don’t see why not.”

“Great!”  Before anyone could so much as shift mental gears, Diamond Tiara firmly  gripped a leg and escorted Twilight out of the door. “You wouldn’t  believe what a sheer privilege it is to have a Princess – er, I mean, a  real scientific genius – in Daddy’s mansion.”

“Genius… yes…”

“Question  one: where do you get your dresses? Rarity’s boutique is in this  season, but I’ve heard Hoity Toity’s Best of the Best is making a  comeback…”

As soon as their voices had faded away, Dinky glanced  across at Ruby and then shuffled to the waiting desk of Cheerilee.  Executioner’s Block, they sometimes called that desk.

To her  relief, she saw Cheerilee’s scowl relax into a look of gentle concern.  “I’ve seen to it that everyone has their project set up, but I think I  might have missed you out. I’m very sorry about that.”

“Oh, it’s  not your fault!” said Dinky with newfound cheer at getting a reprieve.  “Organizing projects like this must be very tricky.”

“Not with Twilight around,” said Cheerilee, and a brief note of strain warbled out of place. “But I did want to check: you do have an idea for a project? I can help you if you’re struggling.”

“No, thanks. It’s fine.” She glanced at Ruby.

Cheerilee  too glanced over at Ruby’s private little world of glumness. This  wasn’t the first time, but seeing the fleeting look of worry cross  Cheerilee’s face never made Dinky comfortable. Instead, she shrank back  slightly.

“I imagine you were still working out your project when I  caught you whispering?” said Cheerilee, and this time her voice carried  a threat that suggested acts of classroom insubordination may yet be  added to a certain filly’s report card.

“We’ve got one ready,” Dinky said.

“Oh good. What is it? I need to write it down on my list so I can keep track.”

“Um… I don’t actually have a name for it yet…”

“That’s  all right. So long as I’ve got the gist. Not all scientists knew ahead  of time what they were doing, but their investigative work was still  important. A bare-bones idea will do.”

“OK…” Dinky coughed into her hoof. “I was thinking about something social.”

“Oh?”

“Something about how ponies, uh, relate to each other?”

“Social interactions, you mean?”

“Yes, yes that’s it! Social inter… thingy. Uh.”

Her  cheeks cooked a little. She found it easier to look at the apple on the  desk. Doubtless one of Apple Bloom’s daily offerings. Still, Dinky  couldn’t rustle up much dramatic flair. In fact, she was starting to  wonder why she’d bothered.

Instead, she simply said, “I want to look into the science of hugging.”

Quickly  she glanced back at Cheerilee. Not a laugh or a smirk or a twitch of  mirth passed her lips. Once more, relief washed over Dinky’s child mind.  Here at least, she was in safe territory.

“You don’t think it’s silly?” she said. Her mind peeked out from behind cover.

“I  think that’s a great idea,” said Cheerilee warmly. “Studying social  interactions is one of the greatest challenges of science. Your subject  is the pony, a very complicated and very intelligent creature. In fact,  I’d love to find out what you, well, find out in the field. Tough as it  is, the rewards for science must be gigantic!”

Emboldened, Dinky’s  mind dashed out into the open. “Oh, OK. So a science of hugging… Do you  think there could be such a thing as a perfect hug?”

Anyone else,  she was sure, would’ve seen this as cute or talked down to her. Yet  Cheerilee hummed and rubbed her mouth carefully. If it was an act, then  Cheerilee clearly believed in the part.

“That would make a good  hypothesis,” she said seriously. “I don’t know if there is such a thing  as a perfect hug, but you could still find out a lot of other  fascinating things along the way. And who knows? Maybe I’m wrong.  Science often involves proving commonsense ideas wrong.”

Dinky  pawed at the straw-covered floorboards. Gratitude swelled in her chest,  but she saw Ruby and the desks, and remembered her own talking during  the lecture, and the swelling went down under sharp shame.

“I didn’t quite… remember what you said earlier,” said Dinky, forcing herself to make eye contact.

“I  noticed,” said Cheerilee coldly. Wiping the scowl off her own face, she  added, “In any case, just ask for help whenever you need it. And good  luck. I’ll be looking forward to this one for sure!”

Dinky gave  her a quick embrace – stopping partway when she realized what she was  doing – and skittered out of the classroom. Behind her, Ruby’s slow hoofsteps soon followed. 







“I’m just wondering,” said Derpy cheerfully, “why you don’t use the quick stuff.”

“Because,” said Golden Harvest, much less cheerfully, “that’s not how I do it.”

“But Twilight said you could get carrots that only need three months to grow.”

“Yes, you can. And have you grown one? Eaten one? Tried to live on the things? They’re not good for you, and they taste wrong.”

Between  two furrows lined with leaves, Golden Harvest stopped stooping and  winced as backache and sunburn caused chaos all along her saddle.  Furrows elsewhere were empty. Buckets dotted the field. Unlike Derpy,  whose pegasus wings gave her an advantage when it came to cleanliness, she was splattered with clumps of dirt right up to her muzzle.

“You  could use the moneeeeeeey,” said Derpy in what was meant to be a  tempting singsong. “Make a lot of moneeeeeeey with carrots that grow  quicklyyyyyyyy.”

Golden Harvest stood her ground. She was horribly  aware of how much of a mess she must look, but some lines should NOT be  crossed.

“My financial position, while unremarkable, is not your concern,” she said stiffly.

“Yeah,  but waiting two years for a full harvest is too slow.” Groaning,  Derpy shook her head until her wandering eyes refocused. “I still owe  you for the broken floor, by the way.”

“And much else besides.” Golden Harvest winced her way back down to crop level. Her teeth clamped around the leaves. I’ve got a list somewhere.

Sighing, Derpy leaned down to copy her, and then stopped. The resulting imbalance meant that she hovered upside-down.

Golden  Harvest rolled her eyes. She was all for the modern mixing of pegasus,  unicorn, and earth pony cultures, but there was a darn good reason  they’d stayed separate for so long.

“OK.” She straightened up sans carrot. “What now?”

“I’m not sure I can do this,” said Derpy.

Trust you to volunteer for something you don’t think you can do. “One more time. Watch me, OK? The technique is simple. You reach down, like this. ‘Ooo grah de ‘eaves, ‘ike dis.”

With  barely a jolt in her tug, she tasted the carrot’s leaves and pulled the  lot right up, spraying soil everywhere. Her teeth strained briefly.  Another orange vegetable joined the ones in the bucket with a thump.

“And you get it out, like that. Ow.” Blasted sunburn. Too long outdoors, that’s what it is. “Now you try.”

“OK.”

Golden Harvest timed it under her breath. She got as far as three.

“Yes, you’ve gripped it,” she said, somewhat encouragingly. “Now pull it up, please.”

Derpy didn’t reply. Then she let go, flipped over, and massaged her mouth.

“I bid my dongue,” she said.

Golden Harvest groaned in despair.

“Of course you did. Look, take a timeout, please.  I can’t afford this kind of delay. The Harvest Moon Feast is at the end  of the month. And before you say it: yes, I can easily get this crop  done before then, but you don’t understand. There’s more to it than  that. There’s the cleaning, and the catering, and the finances, and then  I’ve got to help with the festival things…”

“I can ‘oo id,” said Derpy around her tongue. “Judst dell me waddodoo an’ I’ll do id.”

Golden  Harvest looked about. They were wasting precious seconds. Already, the  sun looked a tiny fraction of an inch lower than it had done a few  seconds ago. Hard breathing slowly took over.

“Oh, all right,” she  said utterly against what was left of her better judgement and utterly  for what was left of her sunburn, aching spine, and sheer oppressive  fear of deadlines. “But do it by hoof, please.”

“Dad’d mean wann-din’!”

“Landing? It’s just dirt,” groaned Golden Harvest. “Come on. It won’t kill you.”

“I  dohn twuss dird.” But at last Derpy landed all the same, promptly  leaping up and checking her rear end for any soil that had stuck.

Golden Harvest returned to pulling up carrots and wincing at the  pains along her back. In her experience, pegasi rarely felt comfortable –  fully comfortable – getting close to the ground, much less mucking in  the mud. They were lords and ladies of the air, not of the earth. Hunch  though it was, her suspicion was that they – secretly, of course, for  the sake of not offending anyone – regarded the ground as beneath them.

Ha, she thought as she filled up this last bucket and started throwing her crop into the next strategically positioned bucket. Not  that unicorns are much better, really. Give or take the odd exception,  you try and catch one of them pulling a plough or spreading seeds.

Now, the Harvest Moon Feast was supposed to be the time when everyone celebrated the earth pony.  After all, the pegasi might push around rainclouds, and the unicorns  might play lyres or try gemstones or look through telescopes, but sooner  or later they all wanted to be fed.

And that meant mucking in the  mud. And that meant earth ponies, who by and large merely did this one  essential and existentially crucial job as though it were a common  hobby. They didn’t talk about it much, lest the precariousness of the  situation cause a panic.

But sometimes, just sometimes, it was  nice to get a bit of recognition. Golden Harvest was just a simple  farmer – certainly a lot simpler than the Apple clan, who seemed  determined to grow anything and everything one might find in a  farm-themed children’s book – but even she worked faster and burned  brighter knowing that she’d have her hour at the feast.

An hour was better than nothing. Although for most of the rest of the year, the two looked exactly the same.

This  being Ponyville, that meant a week’s worth of near-sleepless nights  getting everything ready for the celebration of a week’s worth of  near-sleepless nights getting everything ready. There must be some irony  there, if only she could see exactly where it was hiding.

Behind her, Derpy yelled out, “DAD’S DINGEE!”

Golden Harvest looked up. Indeed, the little terror Dinky was bounding over the empty furrows towards them.

Derpy  shot down and tackled her, rolling across the ground and instantly  casting doubt on the “pegasi don’t like mucking in the mud” theory.  Disappointed, Golden Harvest went back to gathering carrots. Any seconds  that trickled away meant many seconds off her sleeping time tonight.

The voices drew closer. Dinky said, “Derpy, you got any more of that yellow topaz?”

“You wossed id?” said Derpy.

“Ew. What happened to your tongue? It’s swollen.”

“She  was showing me the proper carrot-pulling technique,” said Golden  Harvest, not looking up. Another pull, another toss, another wince as  the pain pricked her saddle.

Showing a child’s ever-keen ability to notice things they shouldn’t, Dinky asked, “Are you all right? You’re standing funny.”

“Hard  work requires a hard stance.” Golden Harvest heard two more thumps of  carrots in bucket before continuing, “Whatever you do, don’t touch my  back.”

She saw Dinky’s hooves come into view and reached forwards.

“No,  no, please! I don’t have time for hugs. Not right now.” Another pull,  another toss, another wince as the pain pricked her saddle. Guilt pushed  her into adding, “Sorry. Maybe next time, OK?”

“I no,” said Derpy overhead. “I dwied id. She burmed her bag worging wesderday.”

Another  pull, another toss, another wince as the pain pricked her saddle. Same  old, same old. “I had to work overtime yesterday to make my quota.”

“Mormim’ am’ mighd.”

“Morning and night, yes. Overtime works both ways.” Pull, toss, thump, wince. “Good day at school?”

“Mmm,” said Dinky.

Golden  Harvest had to fight not to stop what she was doing. Over the years,  she’d picked up the subtle clues and varieties of “Mmm” Dinky liked to  pull out. There was “Mmm, this is delicious”, and “Mmm, now that’s  fascinating”, and “Mmm, sure you do”, and her least favourite, “Mmm, I  saw you doing something you shouldn’t, can I have extra pie today, no  questions asked?”

This one was an “Mmm” from the dark depths of a  filly’s soul. Or at least as dark as a filly’s soul could get without  the curse of true life experience.

“Problem?” Pull, toss, thump, wince.

“Is it just me,” said Dinky thoughtfully, “or is hugging going out of fashion?”

Golden Harvest recalibrated her mind to several years down. “Shouldn’t think so.” Pull, toss – ow! Wince – thump. “This is the Friendship Millennium, isn’t it? I thought it was very fashionable.”

After a while of unexpected silence, she added, “Sorry. I really am. I just – hold on.” Pull, toss… no ow. Good. Thump. Usual wince. Must’ve been a temporary pain. “I just have a lot to do.”

“I’m doing a science project about hugging,” said Dinky in a rush.

“Awwwww!”  said Derpy, whose flapping wings now started blowing a cool breeze  over Golden Harvest’s curls. “Dad’s sssshhhhooooooo cuh-yute!”

To  her shame, Golden Harvest let out one chuckle before clamping her lips  shut. For once, she was thankful not to have to look Dinky in the face.  She had an excuse. Pull, toss…

“It’s serious!” said Dinky.

…thump, wince. “I’m sure it is,” said Golden Harvest. “A science of hugging, huh? Wonder what that lab looks like.”

“Huggim’ masheems!” spluttered Derpy. “Iggle pohmees im wab goads! Scthiendiffig formu’as for der perfig hug!”

“And  I wonder what that ‘perfect hug’ formula looks like.” Golden Harvest  let out a little more chuckle. “Something like love plus squeeze equals  cuddle.”

“I think,” said Dinky with wounded pride, “that Ponyville  would be even more loving and caring if ponies hugged each other more  often. That means making sure it counts. That means finding the best  hug.”

Guilt returned. Besides, Golden Harvest’s tongue felt like a  mass of soil at this point. She threw another carrot into the bucket  and sighed.

“I don’t think there’s such a thing,” she said with  what she hoped was gentle honesty. Pull, toss, thump, wince. Thank  goodness Derpy was drifting over; that breeze was a lifesaver in this  heat.

“Cheerilee said there might be. No one will know unless I find out.”

“Whad are ya gonna doo?” said Derpy.

“I haven’t decided yet,” said Dinky stiffly.

“I gould help, if you laigg?”

“No, thanks. I’m going home. I just wanted to see you before I went.”

“Oh, pwease dohm go! We were juss havim’ a widdle fwum. Wanna help us oud? We gould doo wid de’ssdra help.”

“What  I think Derpy is trying to say around her industrial accident,” said  Golden Harvest, checking the bucket was full yet, “is we could sure use  the extra help.”

Dinky gave another “Mmm”, this time of the “Mmm, I’m puzzled” variety. “What happened to Odd Job? She wasn’t in school today.”

“She’s working somewhere else on the farm.” Pull, toss, thump… Yes, that’s full. Next bucket, next load. “Even with her and Derpy helping, this is going to take all day.”

“That’s not a good thing,” said Dinky. “She’ll fall behind. And she missed a really good lesson.”

“I’ll help her catch up with any schoolwork she missed,” said Golden Harvest automatically.

“Me doo!” said Derpy.

“And Derpy will too, once we help her with the longer words.”

“Dad’s nod fummy.”

“Sorry, Derpy. I didn’t think.” Pull, toss… Darn, my jaw is killing me. How many buckets is that now?

“I’m nod dumm.”

“I know you’re not dumb. It was just a silly joke.”

“Id’s dese eyes. I cam’d read pwop’wee.”

“Nothing  wrong with your eyes,” she said. She felt like a monster the moment she  said such a blatant lie. But Derpy had never figured out a good  comeback to what sounded like a gently encouraging yet firmly loyal  remark. Oh, it was a cruel move indeed.

Pull, toss… Now she was  getting that horrible clingy feeling. How long had she been working  under this sun? And her mouth was dry. Not to forget she still had  dinner to cook tonight…

“Meaning you won’t help me,” said Dinky in a flat voice.

“Sorry,” said Golden Harvest, though she wasn’t sure who to or what for.

Finally,  she looked up in time to see Dinky’s retreating rump cross the fence  and disappear. Instantly, she went back to work. It was the first, last,  and preferred refuge of a scoundrel.

Derpy adjusted her tongue in her mouth; Golden Harvest could hear the slopping. “Wath thhe theriouth?”

“I’ll  make it up to her after this.” The ever-usual and mindless  pull-toss-thump-wince continued. “Just, uh, hold your position for a  moment.”

“Bud I’m bwowim’ wimd imto your fathe!”

“Exactly. I need all the cool air I can get. Oh darn, now I’ve got so much lost time to make up for! And I forgot to cook a pie for her! Darn, darn, darn!”

Oh well, toss it into the pile of things to do after this week. My word, is that pile getting bigger fast.

She moved along. “Just keep pace, will you? I need to feel that breeze.”

“Uh,”  said Derpy, torn between the joy of helping and the suspicion that  this was a patronizing use of her talents, “You dohm ding all dith  you’re dooim’ ith a widdle doo worgahowig, doo you?”

“Workaholic?  Me? Of course not. All I have to do is bring in the harvest, prepare the  snacks, get my mane back into shape, set up the meeting, and check and  double-check we’ve got all the stock ready for tomorrow. That’s normal. And not workaholic. Just… Just keep pace with me and make sure I don’t faint, OK?”

“All wighd,” said Derpy sadly. “I wath omwee athgim’.”

“And get that tongue sorted out before tomorrow, OK?”

“All wighd! I will! Theeth.”







Golden Harvest smiled, because it led to awkward questions if she didn’t.

The  timber crate-of-a-room which passed for main dining room, kitchen, and  impromptu gathering place was blocked up by a ring of ponies. Drinks had  been hastily served from a tray on her back. Seats had been hastily set  up despite the strain on her spine. She’d laden the central table with  snacks, which in practice meant anything she could buy from Barnyard  Bargains in “fun size” packets that suddenly seemed very tacky.

They called it a Committee, she reflected, because calling it an Argument would be all too obvious.

Although  they were all seated in a circle, Applejack was at the head of it by  dint of being A) Applejack, B) the first to speak, and C) the only pony  not currently stuffing her face.

“Now Ah know we had help from  Twilight organizin’ last year,” she said over the sticky chewing. “But  she’s busy this year, so we gotta muscle up an’ do it ourselves, got  it?”

To her right, Big McIntosh, big big brother of the current committee chair swallowed his sweets. “Eeyup,” he said.

“Firs’  thing’s firs’…” Applejack leaned across to let her big brother whisper  in her ear. “Really? All right. Firs’ things firs’, we got a parade to  sort out. An’ that means carts. An’ that means…”

Another hurried whispering. Someone opposite sniggered.

“An’  that means we gotta spruce up our own: one each, for each type of crop.  Naturally, Ah got spares, so if anyone’s fallin’ short, jus’ ask.”

On  Applejack’s left side, Golden Harvest – senior enough to be host while  not senior enough to chair anything – finally sat down and groaned. Another job to do. Her own cart was so knackered it looked like it held itself together through sheer spite.

“Everyone’s got their crops ready, right?” said Applejack.

Golden  Harvest took in the full might of the Harvest Moon’s Incredible Night  Committee. Apart from the two Apples and herself, the only other serious  farmer was currently sniggering into her bowl of gummy bites.

Evidently, Applejack had noticed, because she added, “An’ no balloon rides this year. Got it, Cherry Berry?”

“Got it,” said Cherry, in a tone that promised plenty of rides.

Golden  Harvest shared Applejack’s disbelieving scowl. Cherry Berry had a  direct line to Cherry Hill Ranch, best supplier of cherry-based products  in the whole of Equestria, and for some reason seemed to think her  relative’s success and social standing reflected well upon her  personally.

Everyone else held a collective breath. Currently, there was a state of cold war between Cherry and Applejack.

“OK…” Applejack listened to Big Mac’s whisperings again. “Now, about the caterin’ itself –”

“Why no rides, though?” piped up Cherry suddenly. “The kids love the balloon. Don’t you, kids?”

There  were only four present: Odd Job, but she was quietly collecting plates  so probably didn’t count; Ruby Pinch, who kept shuffling where she sat  and barely nodded; the one called Piña Colada, who wore her usual look  of dumbfounded curiosity; and Apple Bloom, who was sketching something  and utterly oblivious to what was going on around her.

“Because,” said Applejack, casting this last activity a sidelong glance, “this is s’posed to be a special, traditional time for Ponyville thankin’ us earth ponies for what we do.”

A few glances strayed towards one particular mare, who quivered under the pressure.

“It ain’t a money-makin’ carnival, is my point,” said Applejack.

“It could be,” said Cherry in defensive sullenness.

“Well, it ain’t. Come on. Don’t make more work than there needs to be – You OK, Golden Harvest?”

“Just something in my throat,” said Golden Harvest, wishing she hadn’t laughed so loud.

“Right…”

The  rest of the committee consisted of unofficial small-time or amateur  growers, the sort who set aside a patch of garden or plot of land for a  couple of beanstalks or a few cabbages. The sort, in short, who thought  growing things was a little fun on the side. Golden Harvest didn’t know  whether to envy them or pity them.

“Now,” said Applejack quickly, “about the caterin’ itself…”

She shot Cherry a suspicious glare, and then looked to the mare next to her.

“Berry, you takin’ care of that?”

All  eyes turned to Berryshine “Berry” Punch, who alone among the group was  knocking back a mug of apple cider. Irritatingly, she’d brought her own  keg which blocked the hallway outside. And that keg’s mere presence was  an affront to Golden Harvest’s hospitality.

However, Golden  Harvest couldn’t be too hard on the mare. Like Cherry, Berryshine had a  mane which suggested it hadn’t seen better days, but in her case it was  on account of this being about as good as things ever got. Her somewhat  defeated gaze swept the room for signs of mockery.

“I’ve got the drinks covered,” she said in a voice no more victorious than her gaze. “I always have the drinks covered.”

“Yeah,” muttered Cherry in a carrying whisper, “the day after the feast.”

“I was late one time.” Berry scowled all the harder. “Everyone said the fruit punch varieties were all delicious. It’s my knack.”

“They  were also sayin’, ‘Shame it weren’t ready on time, that woulda made a  nice feast drink,’” said Applejack sharply. “Ah ain’t knockin’ your  skill with drinks. You’re amazin’. It’s jus’ gettin’ it done on time  would be nice.”

Berryshine knocked back the cider. No one  commented. After all, Berryshine’s drinks were loved by everyone,  especially Berryshine herself. And at times like this, there was the  unspoken understanding that she be allowed to drink her way to defiance.  Barring her would be like locking a kid out of a playground.

“Yeah,  well, it’s rough at the moment,” she said, and all she needed were the  violins in the background. “I’m not at my best this time of year.”

“Berry, Ah’m warnin’ you…”

“At  least you have a decent job, and a family that doesn’t talk back, and  you’re not living on your own, and you try competing against the big  businesses in today’s market…”

Cherry rolled her eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

Golden Harvest jumped up, thinking exactly the same thing. “I’ll get more snacks!” she said brightly.

All  heads turned to the huge pile already on the table. On her way out, she  signalled to Odd Job to follow, and left behind Berryshine and  Applejack trying to lecture over each other.

Odd Job and she stepped around the obstructive keg. An apple symbol sat on top.

“Cider!”  she muttered as soon as she was out of earshot. “Of all the ones she  could’ve chosen! She gets really defensive around cider.”

“Yes, sis,” said Odd Job.

“That’s  what annoys me about these meetings,” she continued. “Outside,  everyone’s all smiles and hugs and kisses, and then as soon as we sit  down to talk about anything, this happens.”

“Yes, sis,” said Odd Job.

“Half  of them don’t have a clue what they’re doing,” she went on, pointedly  ignoring a tiny voice in her head that reminded her of where she  sat in relation to that category, “and the other half are at each  other’s throats. It’d just be nice to get through a meeting without all  this nonsense.”

“Yes, sis,” said Odd Job.

“I mean, we’re all friends. Why do we have to fight so much?”

“Don’t know, sis,” said Odd Job.

For  the first time, Golden Harvest took in her sister’s appearance. Her  mane was scruffy, her eyelids were drooping, her pale coat and hair  suggestive of gold that had lost its lustre, or that had turned slightly  grey with dust.

A spark of worry ignited. At school, the other  foals used to nickname her little sister “No Identity”, and at times it  wasn’t hard to see why. She left about as much of an impression as a  ghost that couldn’t be bothered to say “boo”.

“Are you all right, sis?” said Golden Harvest.

“‘M  fine, sis.” Even her gaze didn’t seem to really be there. She wasn’t  looking at Golden Harvest, or anyone else in practice. She merely opened  her eyes and other ponies happened to be in the way.

“Not overworking you, am I?”

“No, sis.”

“You’re sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel you couldn’t manage.”

“‘M sure, sis.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sis.”

Doubt  raised an eyebrow at this, but the rest of her shrugged helplessly. If  Odd Job said she was fine, then she was fine. After all, her very name suggested she was born to do all kinds of things that needed doing. A skill like that was nothing to sneeze at on a farm.

“All right. I think we’ve had our breath of fresh air. Let’s go back inside.”

“Yes, sis.”

Squirming under her own skin, she led her sister around the keg, cursing as she went.

Inside,  Berry held the floor, both figuratively and literally. Cursing more  viciously, Golden Harvest slipped between the chairs and helped her back  up. No one ever took any initiative, either.

“…and I don’t  see why you need to chair every committee,” said Berry with undertones  of resentment. “I got nothing against you, you work hard, I respect  that, but can’t one of us have a go?”

“Of course you can!” said  Applejack, and Golden Harvest felt a slight and shameful pleasure at the  sight of those frazzled ends in her mane. “Ah only end up doin’ it  ‘cause no one else wants to. An’ last time we really tried it different,  we ended up with a mess.”

“Eeyup,” muttered Big Mac darkly.

“Not  my fault there was that headwind,” muttered Cherry even more darkly.  “Blame the pegasi for that one. Present company excepted, of course.”

Again, a few glances strayed towards one particular mare, who again quivered under the pressure.

By  now, Piña Colada and Ruby Pinch were bright red with  embarrassment-by-proxy. Golden Harvest burned with fellow-feeling.  Neither of the foals wanted to be there, but doubtless Berryshine had  asked. Ruby Pinch was the only one who’d figured out how to say “no”,  and even then only to other ponies.

In a way, it was almost admirable how committed and loving they really –

“Uh…?” said Roseluck, raising a hoof.

“Yeah?” said Applejack shortly. She still hadn’t gotten over Berry’s speech.

“Hi, I’m Roseluck of the florist’s? New pony here? Just started growing my own carrots? I have a question, if it’s OK?”

Applejack’s face softened. Now this promised fewer opportunities of being lectured at. “Shoot, Rose, we ain’t in class. Feel free.”

“What are our chances of getting attacked by bugbears this year?”

Applejack’s face hardened. “Eh?”

“I  get all the fancy decorations and things, but has anyone considered a  risk assessment? I don’t want my first feast to be ruined by a rampaging  Everfree beastie, if that’s OK?”

“Er…” Applejack glanced across at Big Mac, who shrugged. “Ah don’t think so.”

“That’s  actually a good point,” said Golden Harvest. She had a soft spot for  Roseluck, who alone among her florally obsessed kind had ventured into  the frightening world of agriculture. That was a big step for a mare  more comfortable with pansies. And of all vegetables, she’d gone for  carrots. It was hard to resent someone with such good taste.

Better  still, her idea of “adventurous” was perfectly sensible and risk-free  and did not, for instance, involve much travelling or expenses. A mare  after her own heart, if a little fainter of.

“Ah think if anythin’ happens,” said Applejack matter-of-factly, “there’ll be experienced ponies on hoof to deal with it.”

“Well, yes,” squeaked Roseluck, “but not before the property damage gets us. Those Everfree beasties trample flowers. Flowers! I hate to think what they’d do if they got their teeth into my carrots!”

“And  the insurance is terrible around here,” said Berry, surfacing out of  her private misery for a moment. “Our premium keeps going up. It’s all I  can do to meet the regular payments before something dreadful happens.”

“Hear, hear,” muttered Golden Harvest.

“Girls,  girls!” Applejack clapped for attention. “Come on. We got heroes to  deal with that sort of thing: all kinds of disasters and –”

“Ahem,” coughed the one particular mare, who again quivered under all the stray glances. “I only do the ones with animals?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Gettin’ ahead of myself. But the others’d be there, Rose. Don’t you sweat your pretty head about it.”

Cherry Berry chuckled. “Might as well tell the sky not to stay up.”

Instantly, Roseluck bristled at this. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re hardly the bravest pony here, are you?” said Cherry.

“Yeah,” said Berry, nodding severely.

“Excuse me,”  said Roseluck, voice trembling even more than she was, “but I happen to  be quite the adventurous pony. Yesterday, I didn’t go for my usual  Sandwich Surprise at Haute Cuisine’s. I ordered the Extra Spicy!”

This didn’t have quite the effect she’d expected, if only because this didn’t have any effect at all.

After a while, Golden Harvest coughed nervously. “Uh, right. Well… good on you, Rose. Um…”

“I don’t think it counts as adventurous,” said Cherry smugly, “if you have to pay three bits and ninety-nine cents for it.”

“I’m just cautious,” snapped Roseluck. “That’s better than being reckless.”

“Who said I’m reckless? It was one headwind –”

Golden  Harvest coughed loudly. “Do we have to separate you two? Anyway, we’re  getting off topic. Rose: we’ll find someone to keep an eye out for…  monsters and things.” Probably me, knowing my luck, she thought. “Next up, I think, is who’s taking care of the charity fundraiser this year.”

Applejack shot her a glance.

Beside her, Big Mac nudged his sister and another whispering session followed.

“Given this and that,” Applejack said diplomatically, “we reckon Fluttershy’s the best mare for the charity stuff.”

The one particular mare leaned forwards, and this time didn’t even notice all the stray glances.

Like  the majority of the assembled, Fluttershy had spent most of the meeting  chewing toffee and letting the conversation wash over her: notable in  her case because her snacks were ferried from table to hoof by a flock  of attendant birds, which mostly perched on the back of her chair and  occasionally on her head.

No one had commented on the presence of  robins and chickadees indoors, since this sort of thing just happened  around Fluttershy. They treated it in the same way they treated, say,  Roseluck’s tendency to sit like she was afraid of falling off her chair.

By the Committee’s own rules, an obvious pegasus like Fluttershy should not have been  there. However, Golden Harvest and Applejack had found out during  various deliveries that Fluttershy took an interest in growing cabbages  and cress. Not just took an interest: but for the presence of wings, she  might have been a bona fide earth pony. So she’d shown up one  day to ask if she could donate a bit of rabbit food, and what with one  thing and another, she was now sitting among them all.

No one  wanted to tell her to leave. Whoever had drawn up the membership rules  generations ago clearly hadn’t met something like Fluttershy. She gave  off guilt like intense heat. Ponies who could tell hulking pegasi or  snotty unicorns to go away simply collapsed with embarrassment before  her dewy eyes, flopping mane, and general air of kickable puppy.

Instead,  the usual policy was to pretend not to notice the wings. An  unintentional side effect was to stare a little too intently at her  face, which reddened under the stress.

“Sure,” said Fluttershy,  smiling weakly before it evaporated. “I’d be more than happy to do such  good work for such a noble cause. If it helps, I could bring my animal  friends.”

“Not the bear!” Roseluck squeaked at once.

“And not that rabbit, either,” said Cherry, who’d once got a carrot in the face.

“And  watch what you do with those birds,” said Berry gloomily. “They always  try to take a bath in my best strawberry punch that I spend ages getting  just right.”

“It’s not their fault, the poor dears,” said  Fluttershy, half-hiding behind a curtain of hair. “They just think it’s  scented water.”

“It is after they’ve finished with it.”

“Anyway,” said Applejack, “that just leaves the singin’ and the decoratin’.”

“Singing?”  said Berry, emerging briefly from her misery. “This is Ponyville. The  singing’ll sort itself out.” Into her mug, she added, with a slight  echo, “Lucky for the singing, at least.”

Determined to blend in, Fluttershy raised a hoof. “I’d be quite happy to help with the decorating.”

“Me  too!” piped up Roseluck, even more determined not to be out-adventured  by the likes of Fluttershy. “If it helps, I know how to set up the  banners and flags and things. And if anyone needs some floral  decorations or wreaths or flowers on the big table, I’m more than happy  to provide.”

“At cost,” muttered Berry into her mug.

Roseluck glared at her. “No, but the florist’s has been a bit slow lately, thank you for asking.”

“Join the club,” whispered Golden Harvest.

Relieved,  Applejack wiped her brow. “Then it’s settled! See? We can manage this  big shindig all by ourselves. It’s easier than bakin’ a pie, when we set  our minds to it. Twilight or no Twilight, this is gonna be the best  Harvest Moon Feast yet! Ah can feel it in my water!”

“What water?” whispered Roseluck to Cherry. A shrug was all she got.

“Ah  know it’ll be a lot of hard work,” Applejack continued while, beside  her, Big Mac nodded along with the speech. “But that’s what earth ponies  do best. An’ Ah’d just like to say it warms my heart to see our good  ol’ traditions kept goin’ with these fillies here to see ‘em. One day  maybe, they’ll be sittin’ around talkin’ about all the good things we do  an’ sharin’ the load, an’ Ah’m sure there’ll be many more wonderful  parades an’ flowers an’ drinks an’ feasts an’ songs an’ things to come.”

Cherry opened her mouth.

“But no balloons,” snapped Applejack.

Cherry closed her mouth and harrumphed, forelimbs folded.

Wonder how many of these fillies will be squabbling when they’re our age, Golden Harvest thought grimly.

Around  her, the chairs groaned and scraped as their occupants began to work  their way towards the door. Cherry swaggered out, followed by the  stumbling steps of Berry and the twitchy half-canter of Roseluck.  Fluttershy took a while, since she had to summon her stray birds first  with cheeps and chirps. Several more ponies slipped out after them.

Thankfully,  Odd Job was already gathering up the discarded plates and mugs. That  just left the three Apples and Berry’s two foals for Golden Harvest to  deal with. Fun times.

Whereas Applejack was trying to coax Apple Bloom out of her intense scribbling, Big Mac looked up suddenly.

“Thinkin’?” he rumbled. For him, that was practically soft-spoken.

“You  don’t think we’re going to fall back to the bad old days, by any  chance?” said Golden Harvest. She figured Applejack was too close to  Twilight to see beyond her loyalty, but in a world of changing minds and  misguided souls, Big Mac was as reassuring as an anchor.

“Hm?” he said. Of course, he was also about as expressive.

“Well,  look at Winter Wrap-Up,” Golden Harvest said, trying to fill the black  hole of his concentration. “Every year before Twilight showed up, it was  about as punctual as… as Berry on a bad binge. And every year after  that, we get it done so early that we’re practically coming home to bed  before breakfast starts. And Winter Wrap-Up was only the beginning.”

As  ever, Big Mac sucked in all words. Not for the first time in her life,  she suspected he could hear things in her speech that she and anyone  else would completely miss. This was a rare talent, and it was nice to  know at least one pony had it.

Still, she pressed on. “So what do  you get when you’ve rested so many years on one pony’s shoulders, and  she’s suddenly not there anymore? Because what I’m thinking is that  punctuality is going out the window. You know Cherry doesn’t care about  deadlines, and Berry’s probably going to try and forget anything too  stressful, and between Roseluck and Fluttershy there’s enough quaking  tension to put cracks in a suspension bridge. And it only takes one pony  to miss a cartload of crops, or to skip cleaning day, or to lose the  decorations, and the whole thing comes crashing down…”

All Big Mac had to say was, “Eeyup.”

Golden Harvest sighed, whether from relief or disappointment she couldn’t tell. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

Behind  him, Odd Job cautiously approached the two Apple sisters. Initially, it  looked as though she’d pluck the nearest plate and shuffle away, but –  partway through lifting – she glanced at Apple Bloom’s scribbles.

“Um,”  she murmured, cutting into whatever debate was going on between the  sisters. “Apple Bloom? Are you doing a science project?”

Surprised, Apple Bloom gaped at her. “How d’you tell?”

She pointed at the scribbles. “Baking soda and vinegar. It’s a giveaway.”

“Tell me you din’t miss school again.”

Golden Harvest had a very sudden and mysterious urge to look away.

“Can I help you with your project?” she heard Odd Job say. Was there a hint of pleading? Was she worried?

“Uh…  Sorry,” stammered Apple Bloom. “Ah already paired up with Scootaloo,  an’ Sweetie Belle’s paired up with Featherweight. Ah got nothin’.  S-Sorry, Odd Job. Maybe next year, maybe?”

“Oh. I see. OK.”

The  sheer defeat in that voice made Berry’s gloomiest speeches seem wildly  optimistic. Golden Harvest’s chest crushed itself with unshed tears.

Cautiously,  she let herself watch as her little sister shuffled over to the  remaining two fillies. Ruby and Piña gently eased themselves down from  chairs wobbling with the effort.

Delight brightened both faces. To them, the confusing world of chatty adults was suddenly all clear.

“Hey, Odd Job,” said Ruby instantly. “Wanna come over and play with the skipping rope?”

“Yeah,” squeaked Piña. “We’ve come up with a new rhyme this time.”

“Betcha anything you can’t beat the record, either.”

“And Berry hasn’t said it’s not OK, so you can if you want.”

Odd Job’s face lit up with the shining reflection of delight… and then caught Golden Harvest’s gaze, which dimmed it slightly.

“Oh,” she said. “Uh…”

“Uh” is right, thought Golden Harvest sadly. I’m  sorry, sis. I really wish I could say yes. You know what’ll happen if  you go now. If only it wasn’t so, but that’s not up to me anymore.

Hardened with self-loathing, she shook her head.

“Uh…” Odd Job’s ears drooped. “I’ve got work to do. Maybe tomorrow?”

Try next week,  thought Golden Harvest. She wanted to hit herself, except it would  cause comment. She had no intention of standing out. She knew where that  road led…

Heads hung low, Piña and Ruby traipsed out. A moment  later, Golden Harvest heard the hollow scraping – and then, after a  thump, the rolling – of a keg across the floorboards. The Apples  followed soon afterwards, Apple Bloom balancing piles of paper on her  back and muttering around the pencil in her mouth.

And then there was just her, and her sister.

Perhaps now they had a few moments, she hoped they could exchange some fond words before they set off to work in –

And then there was just her.

Golden  Harvest listened out, and caught the hoofsteps of her sister heading  for the storage cupboards in the next room. She also caught the  irritating distant shouts of Cherry versus Roseluck. For this, she was  kissing goodbye to a peaceful week?

No. One way or another, she’d have to make sure they didn’t botch it.







“Yes, thank you Diamond Tiara, the selection of chocolates was  lovely. Yes, and the massage chair was lovely. And the artwork was  lovely too. And the drink was lovely. Mm hm, exquisite! Has  Berryshine been around? She has? Listen, I’d love to spend more time  here, but I think you’ve got enough ideas to be getting on with, and  I’ve got other students to check up on, so thank you for the grape  juice, and I most certainly shall think about the sociodynamics of royal  influence on trade markets in and around the capital, thanks again,  bye, bye, bye!” Twilight slammed the door and hurried down the drive as  politely as haste and common decency allowed.

Dinky waited in  ambush behind the hedgerow. She’d been hunting the elusive mare, though  the hunt itself had been disappointingly easy. There was no challenge in  following up on what had been overheard during class.

Her  reasoning had gone like this: Science was respected. Hugging science was  laughed at. Somehow, she would have to prove to those laughing faces  that hugging science was a science, which meant hugging science had to  be respected. There was only one mare in town who knew enough about  science to help her out.

Dinky watched Twilight’s carefully  manufactured smile transform into a look of utter horrified relief. This  didn’t surprise her in the least.

Everyone knew Diamond Tiara’s  attitude towards Princesses. Her father was a big pony in the community,  largely because he belonged to two usually exclusive categories: he was  a successful business pony, and he wasn’t a jerk. While she hadn’t  quite inherited that particular lottery, something had clearly stuck.  She was exactly the sort of Canterlot-level dreamer to look upon  Twilight and see a walking, flying, magic-casting ticket to fame and  fortune. If the fame didn’t stick, she could still make a fortune.

In  any case, Dinky marked her down as a potentially dangerous competitor.  The last time Diamond Tiara had gotten a hold of social enterprise,  she’d turned the Foal Free Press into Ponyville’s most successful gossip  column. Not bad, considering it wasn’t meant to be circulated beyond  the school playground. Certainly not for profit.

But now Twilight  came through the golden gates, and Dinky loaded her mind with  armour-piercing questions and checked her social survival kit was  stocked up. Bag this trophy, and the whole thing would be worth the  mental wilderness.

As soon as Twilight turned to stroll away, Dinky stepped out.

“Oh,” said Twilight. “Hello.”

Dinky paused. She’d been prepared to face the Princess of Friendship. That didn’t mean she knew how to address Her.

“Um…” she said, trying a quick bow just in case. “Hello, Princess Twilight.”

“Ah,  you don’t need to call me that,” said Twilight breezily. “Just  ‘Twilight’ will do.” She glanced back at the looming mansion with a  flicker of alarm. “Please?” she added.

“I need your help,” said Dinky.

Suspicion,  alarm, relief, and curiosity blended and swirled across Twilight’s face  as a mixture of tics, half-expressions, and flat-out bouts of staring.

“Um,” she said. “Sure. Uh, what can I do for you… um…?”

“Dinky,” said Dinky, a mite petulantly. Princesses were supposed to know everything.

“Dinky,” repeated Twilight. “What can I do for you, Dinky?”

To  buy some more thinking time – or to look for a way out – Dinky swung  her head round and took in everything. The distant birdsong. The row of  cottages on either side. Their patch of pavement like a bald spot on an  otherwise grassy head. The way the hedge had been trimmed to leafy  perfection, with not a twig out of place.

Now you say, “How do I  study hugging?” No, that’s not right. She’d just laugh too. How about  “I need to know the scientific principles of…” No, too wordy. “Do you  study ponies by hiding and watching…?” Ew, no. That sounds like  something a robber would do.

“It’s about science,” she said, giving up.

Twilight definitely leaned closer at this. “Uh huh? Would you like me to help you with your project?”

“YES  please!” Too late, Dinky realized she’d bounced under her own words.  “Mmm, I mean: yes, please, Miss Twilight. Thank you, Miss Twilight.”

Now  that she stood little chance of being plied with drinks, Twilight was  standing to attention like a puppy that had spotted its favourite toy.  “That’s wonderful! I’d be more than happy to! What are you studying?”

Well, now was the time to take the shot. Dinky loaded, aimed, tried not to think about her chances if she missed, and fired.

“Hugging,” she mumbled.

“Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that?”

Odd. She reloaded and fired again.

“Hugging.” Dinky’s ears started to burn.

“Honey? Hunting? Sorry, you’re mumbling a little.”

Her  third shot boomed. “Hugging! It’s hugging science! I want to know how  to study hugging in a science way. Like, is there a hug that’s good for  the end of the day, and another hug that’s good for the start? How can  you tell if some ponies like hugging and others don’t? That sort of  thing.”

Twilight’s face was a blank. She’d definitely felt the  shot. Now the fatal question remained: felled, impervious, or  infuriated? Worryingly, she seemed to be chewing over the words and  looking up for inspiration.

“Hugging?” she said. There was no laughter, but a slight smile tingled at the edge of her lips.

All or nothing. Dinky decided some wrestling work was needed for this fight.

“Only  I remember when you were writing your friendship journal, and I thought  that was interesting. That’s kinda like a science.”

“I guess…” The smile at least stopped trying to exist. Good. Weakness found.

“But  that’s just all of friendship. I was wondering about bits of it. You  know, helping ponies and give-and-take and how to know you’re being fair  when everyone’s different. And hugging is one part I really like. So,  if there’s a friendship science…?”

“A friendship science?”  Twilight cocked her head, chewed more thoroughly. “That’s an interesting  way of looking at it. I saw it more as a sort of casual journalism –”

“Well,  it could be,” said Dinky, but she was rushing with the thrill of the  hunt. “And if there isn’t, then there should be! So if there’s a  friendship science, there could be a hugging science. That’s what I  think.”

“You realize how big this could get, right?” said  Twilight, but her body was almost diagonal with interest. Her eyes  begged to be persuaded.

Gotcha. “We don’t have to do  everything. Maybe this could just be the start? But I’d love it if you  could give me a helping hoof, please.”

Twilight stopped chewing,  but it was obvious from her body language and from her face that she was  at least 90% “yes”. If her frequent – yet frustrated – speeches around  Ponyville suggested anything, then they suggested that here was a pony  who not only was OK with long words, but was their friend, supporter,  and occasional public advocate.

And however much Twilight might  insist she was just another pony, only in elite Canterlot could she have  found the dizzying heights and majesty of academia. Not often did she  get a chance to climb that particular ivory tower, even among her  closest friends, though Rarity might comment on the architectural style.

Dinky licked her lips.

“It’s an interesting proposal,” said Twilight. “I don’t see why not.”

“That’s a promise, is it?”

“Sure.”

“Excellent!  Then we have an agreement.” Dinky stuck out her hoof. Somewhere between  Sweetie Belle’s gossip and Derpy’s confident guesswork, she’d figured  that formal style was best for addressing royalty.

After a puzzled few moments, Twilight briefly met hoof with hoof, and even more briefly shook it.

“Where would you like to start?” said Twilight.

Oops. “Er, I didn’t think that far ahead.” Dinky grinned. “Sorry.”

“All right. I’ll think of something. This is an unusual proposal. But give me a little time, OK?”

Yes! What a great trophy! I’ve got Twilight on my side! Dinky the Discoverer wins again! “Yeah! Thank you!”

“AH! DWILIGHD!” someone shouted from the sky. The air grew louder under the incoming whoosh.

They both looked up in time to see Derpy yelp and crash down.

They both winced.

They both waited.

They both leaned forwards.

“Are you OK?” they both said.

In the middle of a small crater of earth and flattened grass, Derpy groaned and sat upright. She swayed slightly.

“Darm eyeth… I meed your ‘elp!” Agitated, she pointed to her swollen tongue. “Dith ding ith dwivim’ me gwathy!”

Helplessly,  Twilight looked to Dinky for a translation. Dinky mimed biting her  tongue, then pointed to Derpy. In truth, she hadn’t understood a word  that had been said, but she could guess the gist.

Sighing,  Twilight murmured, “All right. It’s probably best if both of you come  with me to the castle, anyway. I’ll rustle up a spell for you, and I’ll give your proposal some thought while I’m doing it. Can’t say fairer than that, right?” 







Derpy oohed and aahed at the inside of Twilight’s castle. Even in a grown mare like her, there beat the heart of a filly.

She burst through one set of doors. This room was just like Twilight’s  old lab under the library: all strange beeping machines, gnarly  root-like things growing out of the walls, and shelves full of notes and  weird contraptions.

She burst through another. Shelves and  shelves and shelves of books, rising so high that she almost dared herself  to rush to the ceiling, just to see how long it took.

She burst through a third set, and this time squealed around her tongue. The Throne Room! Seven thrones! One gigantic map! She looked up. Stained glass windows!

Sheer excitement kicked her into dancing a little jig in midair.

Most  of all, she liked how crystally everything was, as if it were carved  out of ice. It was a lot shinier than the old library, though – she  hastily thought – the old library had had its charms too. But this was a true Princess’ palace.

Slowly,  she hovered closer to look at the map. To her disappointment, it wasn’t  actually on, not today. Just a block of crystal waiting for some magic  to activate it.

She tapped it. Nothing happened.

Perhaps it had a switch? She checked underneath. She hit the underside here and there. Nothing happened.

Sighing,  she sat down on a throne. Nothing happened, dashing her secret hopes.  Worse, the throne wasn’t as cosy as she’d hoped. The thing looked and  felt like it had been carved from quartz.

“Derpy?” called Twilight.

Uh oh.  Not once had she thought that this might be intruding. Derpy was  simply one of those mares who must explore a house, whether invited or  not. Besides, she might break something.

Sadly, she hovered back  into the main hall. Below her, Twilight and Dinky were talking about  sciency stuff. She could tell because most of the words were more than  two syllables.

“Ah, here we go.” Twilight snapped her book shut  and beckoned for Derpy to come closer. “Simple, really. Just hold  still for a second.”

Her horn glowed.

Helpfully, Derpy opened her mouth a little wider. Using magic to solve problems was such a Princess thing to do.

Time passed.

Eventually, she asked, “Is it done yet?”

Twilight’s horn went out. “All done. Your tongue’s as good as new.”

Odd. She didn’t feel any different. “Why don’t I feel anything?”

“Neuralgic  suppressor spell. Using electrical modulation to maintain resting  potential levels of impulse activity, every nerve cell from your  tongue’s papillae to your gustatory cortex has been artificially  anaesthetized to reduce all nociceptor activity and processing,  effectively enforcing equilibrium and incidentally pre-empting and  destroying any undesired messages heading towards the neocortex for  processing.”

Time passed again.

“Oh, OK,” ventured Derpy.

“The spell stopped your tongue from hurting,” said Dinky.

Time passed a third time.

“It’s magic,” said Dinky.

“Oh!” said Derpy, comprehension dawning. “Now I get it!”

“Twilight!  Twilight!” Dinky hopped up and down. “I think that’s it! Magic could  read pony minds to get around those problems of self-reporting you  talked about.”

“No, that wouldn’t work,” said Twilight. “You’d  need a huge amount of magical power to perform a spell that subtle, and  then there’s the bioethical standpoint to consider…”

They’d finish  sooner or later. Patient if a little bored, Derpy waited and let them  get on with it, occasionally picking up the odd word. Now she could let  her mind wander while she wandered along the crystal wall, gawking at  the tapestries.

She listened out of the corner of her… well, her ear, she supposed.

In  a way, it was like “talking” to Doc the resident inventor: catch him in  his workshop, and he talked about all kinds of mind-bending things and  future-changing things and world-exploring things, and once that  pleasantry was out of the way, she felt free to get to the main point.  Or to point at random and say, “What’s this bit do?”

Now she thought about him, he’d have been fantastic for all this science stuff.

No.  Scratch that. Sadly, he was busy at the moment. His hopes of being the  world’s first time-traveller using technology had experienced technical  difficulties: namely, that time spells already existed. Last she’d  heard, he was working instead on a space machine, which was like a time  machine but sideways.

What else…? She was dimly aware that the  Cloudsdale schedule today had mentioned her at some point. She didn’t  worry. In fact, if she kept out of the way, the weather actually  improved. But she was on the schedule regardless, partly out of  obligation, mostly because “Derpy” was to the Cloudsdale Weather  Schedule what “Alan Smithee” was to film credits.

“So…” Twilight said, “which hypothesis are we trying to investigate, exactly?”

“Perfect Hug Hypothesis,” said Dinky.

“YYYYYYYYYYeeeessssss, but more specifically? What riddle are we trying to solve? What’s our scientific campaign?”

“Keep  out of the way of the Harvest Moon stuff,” said Derpy firmly. One way  or another, she was making a contribution. It’s what Doc would’ve  wanted.

Both Twilight and Dinky targeted her with confusion. “Huh?” they both said.

Derpy  screwed up her face. True, she wasn’t exactly the most cognitive of  ponies, it being a point of contention that Derpy had any brains left  to cogitate with. The insides of her skull were thick with too much  sugar and too much wild enthusiasm and too much overconfident loyalty  towards whatever ideas managed to blunder in.

Still, experience  hammered through sooner or later. Although no one had actually said  anything, long years of crashing into things and knocking things over  and mixing things up had since taught Derpy one rather cruel lesson:  if in doubt, keep out of the way. And these days, she was more and more  often in doubt.

“Everyone’s going to be really busy,” she said. “You don’t want to break anything. Trust me on this.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” said Dinky calmly, “if we do what the science says we should. Right, Twilight?”

Did she just giggle when she said that? Wow, Dinky must really like science a lot more than I thought.

“That’s  right,” said Twilight. “Rule one of scientific methodology: remain as  objective and impartial as possible. When studying ponies, that means  being careful not to interfere –”

“Science teaches you that?” said Derpy, surprised.

“Hm? Oh. Yes, of course. You don’t want to make a mess of the results.”

Derpy’s ears rose bolt upright. “Really? So… what else does this science stuff teach you?”

“Dinky?” Twilight beamed down at her current “student”.

For  her part, the “student” looked a little flustered at being dragged in  so soon. “Um… always get permission if you’re doing stuff with other  ponies?”

“Excellent! That’s always crucial in bioethics, for  example! If anything goes wrong, you want to make sure all the ponies  knew what they were getting themselves into from the start, or you’ll be  in big trouble.”

Derpy’s jaw dropped. Up till now, all she knew  of science could be summed up on the back of a napkin, and even then  only after she’d folded it three times.

“But we’re doing field work,” said Dinky quickly, “so that’s OK, isn’t it? We’re just watching. Any pony can watch.”

“You’ll have to pick your observation post carefully, though,” said Twilight. “Somewhere a lot of ponies would be gathering –”

“Oh,  if we’re just watching,” said Derpy, eager to be seen Making A  Contribution, “maybe it’s not too bad if we watch this festival thing  being set up? It’s not like anyone will ask us to help, right?”

“They might ask you,” said Dinky with a smile.

“Uh… I think they might ask someone more…” Qualified? Experienced? “…more helpful,” she said lamely.

“There’s no one more helpful than you,” said Dinky, loyal to a fault.

“From a motivational standpoint, at least,” said Twilight, honest to a fault.

“Thanks!”  said Derpy, blissfully unquestioning to a fault. “But… I’m… more than  happy to give you two a hoof, if you need it. How many ponies are you  gonna watch?”

“As many as we can!” said Dinky. “This is great!  With you, Twilight, and Ruby helping, I’m sure we’ll get tons of  information about the habits of the common hugger.”

Twilight  coughed genteelly, in the manner of a voice sidling up to a hitherto  unseen snag lurking in the conversation’s undertone. “Not quite. I’m  sorry, Dinky, but I can only help you with some basics. Other ponies in  your class will need my help too.”

“That’s OK! I’ll get Odd Job to help. She can join me.”

“Um…” said Derpy.

“Or Piña.”

Derpy caught Twilight’s eye and added, “I think Berry might –”

“I’m sure we’ll find someone.”

Both adults shrugged helplessly. There was no arguing with a filly like Dinky once she was this determined.

“Anyway,” said Twilight. “You’re welcome to borrow some equipment, should you need any.”

“Binoculars!” Dinky didn’t even hesitate. “A clipboard! Pen! Paper! Hunting hat!”

Twilight blinked down at her. “Hunting hat?”

“Yeah, like the one Daring Do wears in her adventures? You can see it on the cover of every book in the series.”

“Oh, you mean a pith helmet?”

Dinky tutted at the stupidity of adults. “No! A hunting hat.”

“Ah.  I see. One hunting hat it is, then. Only, I think someone borrowed it  once for Nightmare Night. I’d have to check my log book, but I’m sure we  could track them down.”

So far, Derpy had let the conversation and her gaze wander, but at this her ears nudged her back into the present.

“You keep a log book?” she said.

“For every item that comes in and out,” said Twilight. “Accounting is important.”

Derpy’s mind flitted hither and thither. “For hats?”

“Uh huh.”

“What else? For shoes?”

“Yep.”

“Uh… coins?”

“Definitely yes!”

“Coats?”

“Assuming you don’t mean our natural coats, yes.”

After a session of cogitation, Derpy volunteered, “Air?”

Surprised, Twilight said, “No…”

“Oh, good. For a moment, I thought you might be going a bit too –”

“That’s  an intriguing idea, though. Perhaps a simple volume calculation and  barometric reading should establish how much air we currently hold. Not  to forget some means of monitoring all potential atmospheric egress.”

“Ahem,” said Derpy, cutting off her own sentence at: over-the-top? She coughed again.

“If  there’s going to be lots of us spaced out,” said Dinky, tapping her  chin thoughtfully, “then we need a way to talk to each other without  breaking out of our hiding places.”

“OK!” said Derpy. She felt on much safer ground here. 

“OK,” said Twilight tapping her chin, “what’s the best way to communicate over long distances?”

After a thought, Derpy said, “Shouting!”

“No.”

“Waving!”

“No.”

“Shouting and waving!”

“No.”

“Sending postcards!”

“No.”

A pause. “What’s that one with the flags? You wave them about?”

“Uh… semaphore?”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Oh,” said Derpy, disappointed. “Sending a runner?”

“No! The whole point is to do all this without being seen.”

Dinky said firmly, “Tin cans tied together with string.”

“Oh my word!” said Derpy. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? It’s perfect!”

“It is, isn’t it? Cheap, easy to find, easy to make, quiet, sneaky, and works like a charm. I remember you told me.”

“I remember I told you! Dinky, you’re a genius!”

They both looked eagerly at Twilight.

“Eh…”  said Twilight, cringing a little. “I’m not sure that’d stretch as far  as you’d want it to go. How about…? Ah. What say we add a magical  modification? As in, dispense with the string and have the tin cans  communicate directly?”

“Aw,” said Derpy. “But then it’d just be tin cans. That won’t work.”

“Oh, no!” corrected Dinky. “It wouldn’t be just tin cans! It’d be stringless tin cans tied together with string!

“Would it?” Derpy chewed her lip. “You can do that?”

“I think so. With science, maybe.”

“Oooh.” A bright spot opened up. “Ah, that’s all right, then.”

“But they’re both the same –” Twilight got a stern elbow from Dinky.

“No, they aren’t,” said Dinky in a warning voice. “Because one’s just tin cans, and the other is stringless tin cans tied together with string. They’re completely different.”

She nodded her head ever so slightly towards Derpy, who was waiting politely.

After  a while, Twilight ventured a grin. “Oh, of course, yes. Silly me.  Totally different. I don’t know why I thought they weren’t.”

“OK,”  said Derpy gamely; perhaps this science stuff was easier than she  thought. “So how does the stringless tin cans tied together with strings  work? They’re not connected, so do they use air to talk?”

“Oh, it’s elementary, really…”

Then Twilight tried to explain.

Derpy tried to listen.

Her face fell.

OK…

She took a deep breath.

As  far as she could tell, Twilight was saying that something was supposed  to interconnect the space-time thingy to the what’s-it-called at the  junction someplace-she-hadn’t-heard-of because this one pony from a long  time ago said something about fabric.

Apparently, worms were involved – which didn’t sound hygienic to her  – there was this big deal about weights on rubber sheets, and here  light and sound waved at her, there was a speed limit to light, and  something tacky that didn’t obey it, which sounded downright dangerous.

But!  But apparently religion was involved because there was a lot of  conversion. At this point it sounded strangely mystical, because  “energy”, “cosmos”, and “balance” drifted through the speech. Also,  “work” got a mention surprisingly often, as well as joules, though she  wasn’t sure what food had to do with it. Maybe it was for a magical  ritual.

Also, a cat. She wasn’t sure. She thought she heard it  again, but she wasn’t sure what a “cat iron” was, or for that matter why  it was opposite an iron. Or an iron belonging to Anne. It was hard to  tell. Twilight seemed really uncertain about that first cat, because she  admitted she’d gotten entangled with the small stuff. Chains were  mentioned. Probably what the iron was for.

Now Twilight was saying  that another way of looking at it was: there was a cycle and some  particles got charged, which made more sense when she learned there’d  been a serious case of battery, though charging a fine didn’t strike her  as an appropriate punishment. Although no one really appeared to be  arrested for it, because it was only a helpful metaphor to something the  concept.

Derpy wondered at this point if Twilight had actually become deranged and checked for foam around her mouth.

But  mostly, she heard “I’m sciency, I’m sciency, I’m sciency, long word,  weird word, super-complicated pronunciation, I went to Canterlot,  science, science, science, gee I love the sound of my own voice,  science, science, science, making stuff up, science, feel dumb yet?,  science, I’m in love with science, can you tell?, science, science,  science!” But that couldn’t be it. For one thing, the word “science”  never actually appeared.

It sounded like an awful lot of effort just for two tin cans.

Derpy’s single-minded brain thought, Maybe what Twilight really needs is a big, warm hug.

She sensed Twilight had finished, because the next question she heard was, “OK, you got all that?”

“Uh…” she said, trying not to offend that slightly unhinged smile. “I think I got the gist of it…”

“Great!”

“But just to make sure…”

“Uh huh?”

“Could you repeat the whole thing again?”

Twilight growled. “You were listening, right?”

“Uh…” said Derpy, wrestling with honesty and kindness. “I was hearing things. Does that count?”

Dinky  sighed. “Let me handle this. Basically, you talk into Can One, Can One  listens, Can One talks to Can Two, Can Two listens, Can Two talks to the  other pony, the other pony listens.”

Comprehension dawned on Derpy’s mental landscape. “Oh, so it’s like a game of Whispers?”

“But that’s not how it works at all –” Twilight got another elbow in the ribs.

“It does if you think about it,” hissed Dinky.

After  a few blank seconds, Twilight’s gaze went from foal to Derpy and  back. A new smile eased across her face like a frogmarched hostage.

“YYYYYYYeah, yeah, that’s, uh, that’s how it works. Of course it is. Silly me again.”

Derpy beamed. Now she was doing science. Not as hard as she thought, after all. 

“All right!” said Dinky happily, and in the hall her voice echoed  like a full court. “Now we have a plan, let’s get the goods and get out  there! Adventure awaits!”

Twilight beamed down at her. “There’s  the attitude I like to hear! Come on, then. I’ll show you what we’ve  got. Observational study is one of my favourites, though I usually  prefer lab work to actual field work, but they both have their good  points…”

While Twilight led the way up the grand stairs and Dinky  stumbled some few yards behind, Derpy took the opportunity to lean in  closer. Poor Dinky never got the delights of flying under her own wings,  for the simple reason that unicorns didn’t have any. Yet right now,  this tiny filly was bursting with enthusiasm. In Derpy’s experience,  that was a bad sign. Bursting enthusiasm always came before things  exploded in her face.

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” she whispered to Dinky.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Dinky stumbled and stopped looking up.

“Call me Miss Silly, but I got a bad feeling something bad is gonna happen. Or it’ll go wrong. One or the other.”

“Like what?” Dinky didn’t look up, skipping from step to step as though playing a grand version of hopscotch.

Derpy screwed up her lips. This was advanced thinking for her.

“What if you get in the way and slow down all the festival work?” she tried.

“I’m only looking out for ponies hugging. In fact, I’m not supposed to get in the way.”

“That’s what I say,” muttered Derpy.

“Sorry?”

“I mean, that’s what they all say,” she said, privately pleased at her quick thinking.

“I’m still going to do it.”

They both turned the corner. Up ahead, Twilight was chatting amicably to thin air, clearly assuming they were right behind her.

It was hard to credit, but both ponies – Twilight and Dinky  – might actually know what they were doing. Derpy swallowed. Sure,  she’d let Dinky hold the reins before whenever they’d been having a fun  day out, but that was letting her hold the reins. Now it seemed like Dinky was the one letting her come along for the ride. And this time, no reins for her.

“When are you telling Ruby Pinch?” she tried.

Dinky did not meet her eye this time. “Later, later. I’ll pick her up before starting, OK?”

“You’re sure she’s OK with this?”

Now Dinky met her gaze. “What do you mean?” she asked politely.

“Only I heard Berryshine’s not in a good mood at the moment. I think it’s a good idea to leave them to it for a bit.

“Why? Berry gets over it sooner or later.”

Derpy sighed. “Well, sometimes, it makes sense to –”

“Are you two coming?” called Twilight from the end of the corridor.

“YES!” they called back.

Derpy  sighed even louder as Dinky scurried to catch up. She herself was no  Princess, that’s for sure. She couldn’t even rule a conversation, much  less a country. And that was without having to shake her eyes back into  place: half the time, she had to shake her brain back into place. All this weird modern stuff… Even the Princesses they got these days did it differently…

She hovered on. Totally immune to irony, her mind gave up and wandered off to find something pretty.