Blue Alarm sat down at the table, ponies shuffling through in the open space as they looked for empty tables, greeted friends old and new, and brought their delicious orders on trays—an assortment of various foods for there were sandwiches, pies, chips, marshmallows, hayburgers, and so on.
Beside the changeling was the window wall, giving him a clear, wide view of the congested roads of Manehattan ocne again—lines of carriages stuck in gridlock, a few shouting at each other in the impatience of it all and some ponies on the sidewalk stopped to watch.
"Is that you?" a familiar voice asked. "I didn't expect to see you so soon! And, so early, too!"
Blue Alarm looked at the pegasus who just entered the diner through the glass doors—which reflected a little of the sun in the blue-yellow morning sky.
The pegasus raised a hoof as if ordering the changeling to halt. "I'll get my food and then we can talk!"
And so he flew to the back of the line.
The hoofsteps, the sizzlings, the chatter, the eating—those sounds continued on as Blue Alarm looked away from him and looked at the various ponies around.
"Half of the customers: tourists," Blue Alarm muttered. "Other half: residents. Hm—now there's a pony who seems half-cosmopolitan at best. Purple glasses, orange...sweater? Around his neck, tied like that?" A chuckle. "No matter how many times I run in to fashionistas, there's some things I still won't get."
The pony in question—a light yellow Earth pony stallion with some grapes as his cutie mark—was talking in a rather lively way (gestures and all) with a gray unicorn.
"Written Script, right?" the Earth pony said, holding a cup of water with his hooves.
"Yes," the unicorn replied. "Have we met before?"
"Last time I saw you was in the whole Friendship Journal dilemma. You were...who were you protesting against?"
Written Script leaned away from him. "I don't wanna say. I wasn't in my best that time."
"Well, that was where I last saw you."
"Admit it, Wisp," Written Script said, raising his voice as he held a half-eaten sandwich. "If you were there, you were also involved in the angry crowd—and, who were you angry about, huh?"
"It's a...topic that we should not discuss," Wisp said—hints of regret.
"Come on," Written Script said, clasping his forehooves.
"Well, it can't be that hard to guess," Wisp replied, pushing the cup away. "There are only six ponies to be angry about, and you were either a lover or a hater—except you can't really hate Twilight Sparkle because she's the Princess and I think she would've arrested anypony who dared express their hatred toward her."
"Must be why I didn't see anypony reacting against her," Written Script said, becoming thoughtful for a moment.
A clanking sound.
Blue Alarm looked back.
"Hey!" the pegasus said, sitting down on the chair across the changeling's table, smiling. "You know who this is, right?"
"I know," Blue Alarm said. "House Style."
The pegasus pointed a hoof at him, still smiling. "Got you and me some oatburgers." He hoofed an oatburger to the changeling. "Ketchup?"
Blue Alarm shook his head as he grabbed his burger.
"What are you doing here anyway without food?" House Style asked as he distributed the softdrinks among themselves. "If you wanna talk, that's fine, but you're taking up precious seats if you're not eating."
"I just do that sometimes," Blue Alarm said. "It's been my favorite hobby ever since that day."
"And that day refers to...?"
"I think you know."
House Style furrowed his eyebrows as he pondered. Then, wide open eyes. "Oh. Right. That day."
Blue Alarm nodded.
"We haven't really thought much about it together," House Style said. Then, another raised hoof. "How about this? Since what we had some days ago was too formal—because, well, there's the hurry and all—but, today, you wanna just think about whatever?"
"You're not busy, I guess," Blue Alarm said before biting the oatburger. Some chewing later and a swallow—"Flaky."
"First time having a real oatburger?" House Style asked. "I see that face all the time when ponies all over Equestria come over to see Manehattan for what it is. It's one thing to see this city form afar—it's another thing to actually be here."
"And it's another to have lived here for your whole life, I may add," Blue Alarm said, placing the burger down on to his plate.
"Right!"
Blue Alarm looked out the window.
The road was now free from any heavy traffic—hardly any carriages were present. The ponies on the sidewalks, however, have not decreased in their number for they still swarmed the paved walkways.
"You're a changeling with insight," House Style complimented, "so I'm sure you know about what I'll say, but a Manehattanite is really different from the usual visitor. His outlook on the city itself—for them, it's a city of wonder, a place where you can do lots of things before the first hour's up, and that's true. Just look at how many different things you can do here: you can bungee jump, you can watch a theater show, you can fly kites in the park, you can take a steamer to the Mare Statue, you can take a taxi carriage—that's just the things that come at the top of an ordinary tourist's head. Now, me?" He pointed to himself. "I don't see a lot of Manehattan on a normal day. I wake up, I eat, I go to work, I work, I eat, I work, I go away from work, I eat, and I go back home."
"Don't you go around at night for some leisure time?" Blue Alarm asked. "This city is known as the City That Never Sleeps."
"Manehattan is not quite as big as you think," House Style said. "It's certainly bigger than Ponyville, but since most of the city is on an island—there's only so many buildings you can fit on an island."
"Isn't that why the architects of Manehattan opted for high-rises?" Blue Alarm asked, now tilting his head a little in curiosity.
"There's a limit," House Style said. "We can go past that limit with the help of unicrons who specialize in structural magic—they're needed here—but going past that limit is not practical, not to mention nopony's asking for it." A pause. "But, back to why I'm not galloping left and right to all the cool establishments."
Blue Alarm leaned closer, a foreleg on the table.
"Like I already said, Manehattan is not that big. So—believe it or not—I'm tired of most of the activities here."
A pause.
"Yes, Blue Alarm. You don't look shocked, but you are shocked—you don't have to hide it."
"I'm not shocked," Blue Alarm answered.
House Style blinked. "OK, you're not shocked? That's fine. Anyway, I've seen and I've done all that a tourist would do here. And, I'm bored."
"Isn't there always something new?" Blue Alarm asked. "This city can't be growing so well if it just stayed the same. If it had the same buildings with the same things, then it wouldn't be the Manehattan you and I know, would it?"
"Maybe it's just a matter of perspective," House Style said. "I really don't know for sure." He shrugged his hooves. "I was about to tell you that, since I live here, I don't see the changes as well as you do—you, a changeling who certainly doesn't visit everyday, right?"
Blue Alarm nodded.
"By the way, what is your line of work? I've never asked that before from you. You seem to be up and about all the time."
"Maintainer," Blue Alarm said. "I keep the hive neat. I take out the weeds, clean the mess after craft time, sweep the ground—"
"Why would you sweep the ground?" House Style asked—it was his turn to tilt his head. "You don't have to—"
"It's dirty. Thorax likes it clean."
A pause as he scratched his mane, looking at the changeling in askance. "I won't question it. He's your monarch, your ruling king—I won't question him."
"We question him a lot," Blue Alarm said before he took another bite of the oatburger.
"Well, we question our monarchs as well," House Style said. "Or diarchs, to be more exact. Pedantic? I know—that's what you get when you're on the history team."
"Because the terms always have to be exact?" Blue Alarm asked.
"Yeah, pretty much."
Some silent moments as they ate more and drank more—Blue Alarm sipping loudly as if he was trying to consume all the soda in one gulp.
"How's life in the hive?"
The changeling set aside his softdrink. "Always different in some tiny way. Just yesterday, we've had a road-making competition."
"A road-making competition?" House Style repeated.
He nodded. Then, he placed two hooves on the table, each of them far apart from each other. "From the hive all the way to Dodge Junction."
"That doesn't right."
"Thorax told us that he asked permission from the Princesses. They said 'Yes' and off we went."
"You joined with your buddies?"
"Decided to opt out"—discarding the event with a hoofwave—"but they still joined as a team."
"Hmm." The pegasus scratched his chin; on his face, an interested look. "What are the conditions of winning such a competition?"
"Simple," he replied with terseness. "Reach Dodge Junction first."
"Prize?" House Style raised an eyebrow.
"A hundred bits."
"Your team won?"
He shook his head. "No. Another team led by Lato. Almost got disqualified, though. He tried to bring in over twenty others into his team above the maximum of seven. He said that he wanted his team to be open to all—ended up being talked down to by Pharynx, which isn't the best of experiences to say the least."
"So, this Pharynx guy," House Style cut in: "What's he like, really? Personally, not historically or politically or anything like that?"
"Has a better personality these days," Blue Alarm responded before he took another long and loud sip of his softdrink. Placing the cup down, he continued: "Despite us accepting him almost right after he changed, it took us some time to really get used to him. We've always known him as an agitating fellow—a changeling who kept stirring up trouble no matter what. Made us lose some confidence in Thorax—if he couldn't handle even his own brother, then why be so confident in our king?"
"I see," House Style merely said, nodding in agreement. He looked out the window—seeing again the scarce amount of carriages on the streets. "Anything else, Blue Alarm? I haven't asked about your history—which isn't fitting, since, well—you know, me being a historian. Hah. Not really a historian, but I'm associated with—you know what I mean."
Blue Alarm smiled at that. "You're nervous, aren't you?"
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked—his voice having a serious flavor, his smile gone. "I've been part of the editing team of 'The Complete History of Equestria' for several years now—long before Thorax and his friends came and saved all of you. I know that asking about your history meant knowing stuff about you before you became good."
"Don't worry," Blue Alarm said.
And sighed.
A long pause.
"You're remembering, aren't you?" House Style asked—bleak.
More than a year ago
Jet Set and Upper Crust—those two upper-class unicorns in their shirts and scarves—walked past valuable pieces of ages gone by: old papers, jars, paintings, hats and other clothes of times ancient and not-so ancient. In the museum's grand rooms facilitating such dear items in their unbreakable containers of glass, a few other ponies walked about, too, admiring what was before them.
"I did not know that you had such a niche liking," Upper Crust said to her husband. "In all our years of being together, it is only just now you've told me about how you appreciate such outdated letters."
"I do not just see them as outdated letters, dear," Jet Set answered—rising to defend his newfound hobby. "In these letters are the actions that brought Equestria to the good state that it is today. I have had more than enough of my lessons in Equestrian history, and that was what sparked my pursuit in obtaining what you call 'outdated letters.'"
"Then, how come we have none of them?" she asked, stopping both herself and her husband with a hoof. "I don't see yellowing, crumbling papers all over our rooms."
"You do know that these are quite uncommon," he replied. "We combined do not have enough wealth to come clsoe to that of Fancy Pants or even some of those new food ponies who arrived recently. My only way to get such treasured letters is to make some connections."
"Then, make those connections!" Upper Crust said, raising her voice in a haughty manner. "You have the influence, the power, the position—all you need to is act!"
"The world of old souvenirs is not an easy world to enter, much less to be successful in. I think of myself as a skilled conversationalist and observer of even the most minute of details, but judging from what I have seen myself, that world is a foray into a daunting mission."
"Wow, you sound so...grandiose, dear!" Upper Crust said, smiling just a bit bigger. "You are improving your status—and I thought that we could not get even better!"
Just then, a group of three fancy-looking stallions—two unicorns, one Earth pony—approached the couple from behind and then around a wall.
The Earth pony removed his hat and bowed down half-way. "Good morning, mister and misses!"
"It's afternoon," Upper Crust corrected.
"Ah, yes!" he took out his golden watch and opened it. "I often forget that I have this one on my person!"
"And, you must be?" Jet Set asked.
"Nitty Gritty," the Earth pony said, extending a hoof.
Jet Set shook his hoof.
"And, you, too, misses!"
And Upper Crust shook her hoof.
"What is your business here, Nitty Gritty?" Jet Set asked.
"I and my colleagues have been watching your steps within the antique-letter community here in Canterlot."
Jet Set's eyes opened wide and he fixed his glasses. "What? You have?"
Upper Crust gasped and just looked at her husband—bewildered.
"It's not the most famous nor is it the most vocal of the groups here," Nitty Gritty said, "but, rest assured, I'm one of the leading members. My personal collection of letters from history: seven hundred, estimated."
"Exact number?" Upper Crust asked, that amazement (almost doubt) resounding in that question.
"Seven hundred and ninety-three!" Nitty Gritty yelled, his declaration echoing throughout the spacious halls. He opened his watch, looked at it, and gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry, misses, but I'd like to have a quick chat with this fine novice of Canterlot's antique-letter community!"
A pause—the mare placed a hoof on her head. "You are saying that he is already a part of—"
"As of the moment that I just said that!" Nitty Gritty said, pulling in surprised Jet Set. "I am sorry for not telling you beforehoof, but I am already running late for my early dinner with Fancy Pants."
"You have early dinner with—"
"I and my colleagues will get to you! You will meet Jet Set at the house—hopefully, with some good letters!"
And the three ponies brought a startled yet accepting Jet Set behind a wall.
"Be alright and well, dear!" Upper Crust called out before she walked away.
The four ponies were alone near the wall; the room had more of the same old historical items.
"Not the best," Jet Set said. "But it'll do, Humerus."
"Really, Blue Alarm?" Humerus—in the guise of Nitty Gritty—said.
"I say we keep up the disguises on until sundown," one of the two other unicorns said. "Neon Guard said so."
"I didn't," Neon Guard—disguised as the other unicorn—corrected.