Queen Rarity

by Damaged

Chapter 1

Monday. I didn't hate Mondays, but only because it meant I got to go to work again. Work was the high point of my week, but the drain on my creativity always left me feeling worn out. But work was not exactly what I had always dreamed it would be. I work in fashion, of course, but entry-level jobs in the industry were not quite the extent of my ambition.

I unlocked my front door and pushed it open. Mom and Dad had given me a house in the city, which was all kinds of amazing, particularly when it came to giving me some peace and quiet after a long day. I dropped my portfolio case off beside the couch in the living room, kicked off my pumps, and headed into the kitchen.

"Home, sweet home, Rarity, and what are you going to do?" I asked myself.

A drink was my first order of business. Something cool and long, after all, I had more work to get through. College should have been the end of homework, but I almost longed for the "relaxing" days spent sketching designs and chatting with friends.

Just thinking of my (high-school and eventually college) friends infused me with energy, magic. Weekends were when we got together, played some music, went out to a club, or just chilled as a group.

I poured myself a glass of orange juice, and retired to the living room. The moment I sat down on my couch a familiar bleep came from my bag. Never underestimate the speed with which a young woman can produce their mobile devices from any location, locked or open. I had that phone in my hand so quickly Wyatt Earp would have whistled in appreciation.

Rainbow Dash was the first to message me, as always. We had spoken just the previous day, so while it was good to chat, we lacked much to talk about. The topic of guys came up—as it always did when talking with Rainbow Dash—and I had to dutifully report that I had indeed spent a few moments watching the office supplies guy bending down to pick something up.

My phone beeped again and of a tone that implied a conversation with someone else.

Swapping conversations, I found the new contact easily enough. Instead of a number, a name appeared—a fake name.

"Who would NotABug be?" I asked out loud.

Then it hit me. The only reason a new contact would have a name instead of a number would be if something on my phone assigned one, and there was something that did just that.

I flicked to Rainbow Dash's conversation, and informed her the stupid "Date Night" app she had made me install might have gotten me something. Despite the sudden flood of requests from Rainbow Dash, asking me for details, I flicked back to NotABug.

—Hi!— the message read.

It was as simple as a first message could be; at least he didn't use emoji. My thumbs flicked across the virtual keyboard.

—Might as well be. You're Rarity?—

I smiled at the thought he had read the profile I had posted. When I first installed the thing, most of the messages I got from the app's users implied they had stopped their perusing at my chest.

—You've probably heard this a million times. I'm a digital entity with no bounds or limitation.—

Snorting a laugh, I replied to his message with exactly that.

—Really. I was floating through the sea of infinite cat pictures, and saw an angel.—

It was such a corny and well-used pickup line—and used in a twisted a humorous way—that I laughed again. Much as I could handle Rainbow Dash's terrible spelling and grammar, I quite enjoyed NotABug's diction.

That he didn't follow up immediately with another message was also a point in his favor. I reached for my glass of juice and, taking my time, lifted it to my mouth and took a sip.

His replies, after I had messaged, were always prompt. My heart beat a little quicker, wondering if this internet Casanova might be local. It was nice knowing I had his attention, too. There was an obvious reply I was expecting, that I knew for sure he would use.

—All of them so far. You're the first, by the way.—

I almost coughed. The usual reply of "Only the pretty ones" had been not only avoided, but twisted. I reread what he had sent. NotABug was a conundrum and a curious courtier. For a moment I struggled to assemble more "C" words in my head for some alliteration, but they all fled from my grasp.

Reading his message for a third time, I pondered over his second sentence. If he was telling the truth, he might be yet-untouched by the slime of mobile dating apps. Or he's a player and uses the same corny lines on all the girls he chats up.

A sense of duty hit me, and my eyes slid across to my work folio. I let out a little groan of defeat: I had to get some designs finished for tomorrow.

The time would be perfect. Not only could I get the designs finished, but I could also do some sleuthing. Twilight Sparkle—not the princess, the geeky one… the born-human-geeky-one—had taught me a little about poking around online.

—Only if you send me a kiss.—

His reply earned another laugh from me. I tapped the X key, and hit send; there was no further reply.

Funny, not pushy, talks (or, at least, texts) nicely… My thoughts trailed off for a moment. I ignored the thirty-six messages from Rainbow Dash and activated the app she had forced upon me. Sure enough, a profile came up as matched, and typically it was a person in a dark room.

"Oh, of course! I put my picture out there for anybody at all to look at, but he keeps himself hidden."

I stuck my tongue out at the dark, silhouetted character. He had a negative point against his name, now, which made me feel a lot better about NotABug. No one with all positives existed—unicorns were in Equestria not Canterlot.

Reading his bio, it seemed to be the absolute minimum to fill in to make a profile for the site. Age was twenty-two (the same as mine), height was six feet, and sex was (of course) male.

All that was practically expected. No one was who they pretended to be online, but there were always traces. Not having anything but a single internet nickname wasn't a great issue, either: people always reused names.

I watched the message counter on Rainbow Dash's name tick up by two more and swapped to a browser window. I simply typed his nickname into a search engine and tapped go.

"Well played, dear. Well played indeed," I said.

The first page was a wash. All the links were for programming sites, and one for an online game. I tapped the search field again, and added "Date Night" on the end. This brought me more meat. His name was right at the top, with his profile on Date Night.

Under that, where I expected to see more profiles on other app sites, there was nothing. Instead, I found another programming thing, but something was different about this one. It wasn't a "bug report" like the others, but instead it was the username.

"Casanova is a nerd? Oh my, and I will be his first?"

I sipped more of my juice and slid back on the couch. Further entries from the search revealed people talking about NotABug in an online forum, but I couldn't find any links to the real world.

"'Come, Watson. The game is afoot,'" I quoted.

Further searches turned up nothing new. NotABug was as mysterious as he was well-spoken. After half an hour of prodding at the search engine to give me something useful, I gave up and got my work out. There was always more work to do, after all, and Casanova would be back tomorrow.

My morning was typical, leading up to an average day (made a little more sane because I had done the "homework" the previous night) that again left me rather drained. But, there was something different tonight. Something that wasn't the same heat-and-eat meal while working on fashion designs as every other day.

As usual, I signed off from work two hours after quitting time, grabbed up the work I still had to finish, and shoved it into my folio and made my way out to my car.

Rainbow Dash's car was an extension of her personality: fast, loud, uncaring of how it pollutes the world around it. My car was the exact opposite of everything hers was: compact, quiet, economical, cute. I loved my little car every bit as much as Rainbow Dash loved hers.

I slumped down into my car, tossed my portfolio to the passenger seat, and contemplated my rising anticipation of NotABug's contact tonight. Fastening my seat-belt, I did a quick check of the car and everything around it in my mirrors, and pressed the starter.

My car was silent until it got moving. The little engine started after the electrics got me rolling, and I was away. Navigating the carpark of work was simple, repetitive. By the time I got to the exit of the parking garage I already had some music playing, and was comfortable in the simple role of driving again.

Pulling out into traffic, I was startled when the brakes locked up and stopped me just as a large pickup was swerving into the lane I almost entered. The dashboard had a flashing warning that could not be missed.

"Proximity warning?!" I asked, quoting the words from the display.

My heart was racing a little as the realization set in: my cute little car, without all the stuff Rainbow Dash had told me were "required" for a car to have, had probably just saved my life.

A horn sounded behind me, shocking me into action. I merged out into evening traffic, and drove all the way home with no further incident.

No sooner was my key in the front door lock and turning than my phone beeped. Excitement hit me like a wave. I swung my bag around, almost twirled my phone in my hand like a gunslinger, and activated the screen.

—Club 2nite?—

A night at a club with Rainbow was tempting, but I had plans. I kicked my shoes off and followed my normal routine. Juice, couch, relax, and then look back at my phone.

—What he look like? Hawt?—

—I bet he fugly—

Each time Rainbow Dash didn't use proper diction, it burned me a little. NotABug was delightful in that respect, and had spoiled me. I started typing a correction, even expanding out the portmanteau, then deleted the attempted intervention.

—So club?—

I also didn't want NotABug to contact me while I was out and couldn't enjoy his eloquence, but I wouldn't have said that to Rainbow Dash.

—So no?—

—Send pics if he qt—

Despite Rainbow Dash's crassness, and her horrible spelling, she was still one of the best friends I had ever had. It took just one look at the laughing, winged maniac in the profile picture to remind me of every moment we had been together at school.

My phone beeped again.

I flicked to NotABug's conversation so quickly I barely even noticed it had a message notifier on it.

—Hi again.—

As far as greetings went, he was improving. I didn't want to appear too impatient, so set my phone down, reached for my drink, and calmly took a slow sip. Telling myself that I wasn't being hasty, I grabbed my phone back up and started replying.

As I checked, I realized that his first message tonight was at exactly the same minute past the hour as the previous night. I could appreciate that, but there were some things I wanted to get from him tonight.

—Is it a bad time?—

—Like?—

The moment after I hit send, I ground my teeth at the TM that had appeared. The app must have squeezed that into my phone's dictionary. Quickly, I typed out Date Night again, got the TM on the end, and marked it as a mistake.

—It does. Would you like to know something about me, then?—

—Well, we should play a game. I'll tell you something, and you tell me something. If either of us thinks the answers are too short, we get to ask a question.—

Truth or dare without the dare. This could be a very fun, and very embarrassing game. Of course, I was all-in since he was a complete stranger. After waiting a moment, I realized he intended me to go first.

—I will have to get you some, when I see you. When I see a pretty girl, I always try to picture what she is thinking, how she thinks, before noticing her beauty.—

This was less banal information and more a telling fact of his psyche. I read his message several times, and tried to make sense of what it meant in relation to him contacting me.

—You didn't give me a fact.—

I seethed a little, but then broke into a giggle: he had me playing along quite well, and letting me pick my own answers to give made him ring a lot less of "sleaze."

—Saved by your car? Not enough info there. How did it make you feel that this machinery, this program, saved your life?—

Expecting him to ask a deeper question was one thing; having him spend such on something so strange made me remember he was a programmer, after all. I thought back to the moment, when my heart had raced.

—I like playing with computers. They sing when I touch them.—

For the first time in our conversations, there was a pause before his reply. I had surprised him, it seems.

—Your eyes. Azure, deep as the void, and brimming with intelligence. I see a young woman in them that has so much she wants to do that it is a struggle to fit it all in the hours of the day.—

My hand was fanning my face as I read, and my heart beat just as fast as when the car had saved my life. I breathed a deep, happy sigh.

"Rarity, don't you dare fall for him before you have even seen his picture," I said.

"Well, of course not. But, you know, it's nice to be told you are beautiful," I replied.

"It is, yes."

I know I shouldn't talk to myself like that, but I had to giggle at how well his flirt had hit home. I felt happy on a weeknight, and I owed it to NotABug.

—Now we know some more about each other.—

Reaching for my glass of juice, I lifted it and took a slow, satisfying drink. I felt like the cat that had eaten the canary, the Cheshire Cat, or any one of a dozen other predators who had just brought a paw down on each side of their prey, and watched them squirm.

—I would look deeply into your eyes. I would keep looking until I could see us together within them.—

I stared at his reply, stood up, and walked into the kitchen—still holding my phone. Using my magic, which Twilight said I shouldn't use except when necessary, I collected a tub of ice-cream from the freezer and a long-handled spoon. I returned to the living room with a relaxed smile on my face.

Mutely, I popped the top on the tub and scooped the first little lump of the nut-infused, cherry ice-cream into my mouth. The flavor exploded, but though I wanted to close my eyes and savor it, I looked back down at NotABug's replies.

The little girl that lived inside me let out a happy squeal, covered her mouth with her hands too late, and bounced up and down in excitement. Despite my conversation with her earlier, she still wanted to fall head over heels for this stranger. For just the evening, I supposed, I could let her have some fun.

—You can talk to me.—

The reply seemed odd. One moment he was smooth as silk, the next he was awkward. I tried to put it down to inexperience, at least I hoped it was so.

I selected his last comment, highlighted and copied the text, and then quickly flicked to my phone's browser. Twilight Sparkle's lessons on using the internet seemed to always drift back at the oddest times: I wrapped the search in quotes.

—Alright, you caught me out. I haven't had much experience at this. Would you forgive me?—

—I would look into your eyes, but I would search them for you, for what makes you so clever, generous, and cute.—

There was the ring of truth this time, that the romantic girl inside me stuck her tongue out at. I didn't care what she thought, though, I preferred the honest answer.

—What would the penalty be?—

The little girl had gotten control of my thumbs.

—X—

—Absolutely.—

After waiting for five minutes and getting no more replies, I turned my screen off and stretched out on the couch like a cat—a cat with a big tub of ice-cream. I squirmed, twisted, and laughed just for the sake of laughing.

NotABug had not actually lied, he had just borrowed words; I considered that half a point off for him. But he had come back with something actually sweet, and more cute because I imagined the phantom "him" saying it.

I reread the conversation while I ate more ice-cream, and contemplated my answer to his car-saving-me question. Sitting on the couch, I realized, wasn't going to let me explore that feeling.

Grabbing my keys, phone, and the tub of ice-cream, I headed into the cool air of evening, and walked over to where my car was parked. Walking near the car with my keyfob caused it to unlock, so all I had to do was lift the handle and climb in.

The moment I was inside, with the door closed, a sense of safety flowed around me. I smiled and woke my phone back up with a touch.

—You feel so much for something that isn't even alive?—

His reply was fast, lightning quick. He had to be holding his phone, and be an expert at thumb-typing. I scooped up some ice-cream and pondered this while experiencing frozen-dessert-bliss.

I managed to eat two more spoonfuls without any reply from NotABug. As each morsel of delicious, hip-expanding ice-cream went down, I held my phone up and waited for a reply.

"This isn't like him. Or maybe the faster replies are less like him?" I asked, of no one but myself.

—I think that's cute, and honest. I'm sorry about earlier, the thing with the pickup lines, but I really like talking with you.—

In my safe place, my little car, I felt my heart quicken; did I dare hint at more? Of course I would—with the proper precautions.

—You want to meet me? I will try to work out a way to do that.—

His reply was cryptic. Did he mean that he was working long hours? Was I trying to move too fast? The last thought was that it was some kind of psychology thing to encourage me to meet him in private; that was never going to happen.

—X—

My reply was almost automatic now.

I ended up finishing what was left in the bowl and retiring inside. My brave, clever little car gave a soft beep as I walked away—locking itself. All too soon I found myself with my designs out on the table, sketching additions and notes here and there. My work, although being the core of my life, seemed more draining than energizing.

"You're just pining because NotABug is being mysterious. Of course he's mysterious, he's a stranger."

I let out a sigh, having had my tiny tantrum, and returned to my work.

Work was consuming. My efforts the previous night meant I only had a normal workload today. I found myself sighing again and again as I sketched, measured, and designed my life away.

I honestly spent most of the day trying not to fall asleep; I wasn't tired, I was weary.

A blink. That was all. I was adjusting an existing pattern design to have minimal changes to make it usable as something completely new. I blinked, and woke up to the sound of my phone beeping.

My first instinct was to look around in case anyone saw me, but as I stood up, I saw that the room was empty. I pulled my phone out and looked at the source of the beep: I had five messages, all from NotABug. Further, it was almost an hour after our normal chat time, and the only reason my phone had made a noise was "work mode" had timed out.

Quickly piling my work into my folio, I turned to leave my cubicle, and saw a letter taped to the wall behind me.

"A reprimand? I've been doing all the work, and overtime, and I get a reprimand for resting my eyes?!" I said, shouting my dismay.

I ripped the notice off the wall, stuffed it into my bag, and began stomping out. The time-clock was an obstacle, but I could deal with that by simply waving my employee card past. The moment I opened the door and slid into my car, I felt the hurricane inside me ease off.

My phone beeped again, and I realized I hadn't let NotABug know what was happening. I had to scroll back to start reading his messages.

—Hello.—

—Hi. Are you there?—

—Are you in trouble?—

—I hope you're not mad about those pickup lines.—

—I'm sorry if I've offended you.—

I couldn't help but smile a little at how worried he had gotten, but then my eyes scanned to the last message.

—Is something wrong?—

With a deep sigh, I started typing a reply.

—Draining?—

I found myself nodding to his message.

Reaching down, I pressed the starter of my car, and could swear I felt its excitement at being put to use—its purpose. The drive home was a joy, and I found myself sitting in my car, in my driveway, all too soon.

"Thank you for looking after me," I said, patting the steering wheel.

I climbed out of my car and walked inside. I collected a fresh tub of ice-cream, a spoon, and my usual juice, then settled down at the end of the couch. With a tug, I pulled out a comforter I kept folded under the coffee table for just such a situation

A shimmy and a kick later and I was out of my chic suit pants and with a little more work my blouse joined them. Clad only in socks and my underwear, I curled up under the comforter and tapped my phone.

I didn't wait for him to reply, I held my phone out, turned the front-facing camera on, and snapped a selfie. I looked at it a moment, and a devilish smirk pulled at one corner of my mouth. Easing the comforter down around my chest, I let a hint of cleavage show, and more importantly a little of my bra strap. I snapped a shot, then waited a moment and double-checked the picture before I sent it to NotABug.

—You look cute, Rarity,— he sent.

—Any man could tell you that. I said what I felt. You look cute.—

His clarification was oddly sweet, although I still wanted him to tell me how hot I looked. It had been too long since my last fling, that was for sure.

—What happened at work?—

His broken pattern caught me off-guard. But his question also made me think of work.

By the time I was done typing, my thumbs were sore and there were tears in my eyes. I reached out for the juice first, drank half the glass, then popped the top of the ice-cream. Caramel-rocky-road, one of the best things that existed in the known universe. Two scoops of the stuff were in my mouth and melting, slowly, before I realized NotABug had replied.

—Have you thought about working elsewhere?—

I laughed, but it was a sharp sound—sarcastic.

—Your profile said you like creating things.—

Blinking at his reply, tried to comprehend what he meant. Was it simply a droll sense of humor, or was he being serious that working in a fast food diner would satisfy my creative urges?

I got through three more scoops of ice-cream, and finished off my juice without a reply from NotABug. Lifting the spoon again, I was about to spear another morsel when my phone beeped. I was mildly surprised, and noticed it was a message from Sunset Shimmer.

Flicking across to Sunset's name, I scanned down to see there was only one new entry.

—Rarity, we're organizing a party at Fluttershy and Maud's house on the weekend. You in?— it read.

I was halfway through replying, when an idea came to me. Although it was mostly seeing NotABug's name flash with a message, and my phone beeping, that gave me the idea.

—Can't see why not. This the guy Rainbows been telling everyone about?—

I cursed Rainbow Dash and missing apostrophes.

—Good idea. You can't be too careful. See you there, then?—

In my moments with Sunset, I didn't even notice NotABug had replied. Flicking across to his conversation.

—You are beautiful, Rarity. Inside and out.—

The timestamp said it was two minutes old. He could wait a moment longer while I ate some more ice-cream. Only after the second spoonful did I start tapping a reply.

—What would be your ideal day at work?—

My thumbs itched to write more. I wanted to cram all my hopes and dreams for the future into one text message. NotABug was apparently very good at stirring my emotions up.

—You will be able to do that at Polomare Fashion?—

I didn't need him to reply to see the problem I had just revealed: I was working at a job, at the lowest rung on the ladder, without wanting to reach the higher rungs.

—Then why are you there?—

—Of course. XXX—

I hated myself for cutting things off, and using the work I actually had to do as an excuse just made it worse. I slumped into the couch, and had to fight to keep my tears back.

After nearly half an hour—and half a tub of ice-cream—I finally collected myself enough to get my work out. Another design that needed a little something done at the shoulder to distinguish it from last year's fashion.

I sighed.

No matter how much I stared at the patterns, my creativity seemed dead. The realization NotABug had led me to the previous night stung my very being: I had realized I was working at a job I hated that wouldn't lead me anywhere.

"Would you like fries with that?" I asked, of no one in particular.

For the rest of the day I lied. I modified dress designs using cuts that I had already used on others. I even managed to tell myself that this would work, that it would be enough. But, at least on some level, I didn't believe it.

The moment clock-out time came, I stood up and stuffed the patterns into my bag. I was three hours early compared to the normal time I left, and two earlier than everyone around me would dare leave at. I grabbed up my bag and turned around to leave.

"Finished your work already?" my boss' boss, Coco Pommel, asked. Her tone implied more surprise than maliciousness.

She was dressed impeccably, something I had completely failed to notice all day. A beautiful, light yellow dress, a cute little scarf tied around her throat, and a neckline that gave nothing away.

"Sorry, Miss Pommel, but I'm feeling rather poorly. I'll get all this done at home, I promise," I said.

She eyed me for a moment before replying.

"Only because you have done some of your best work at home. Please, do feel better by tomorrow."

The conversation had the effect of drawing onlookers. Eyes poked up above cubicle walls, and I could see pure envy in each of them. I hadn't felt such malice directed my way since the three, huge specters of The Dazzlings had faced off against me and my friends.

I wanted to be gone so badly I almost pulled my pumps off and ran.

It was a surprise when I reached my car. The moment the door was open, and the unique smell of the interior hit me (a mixture of my own perfume, a faded lemon air freshener, and "car interior smell"), I started to relax. I tossed my folio across to the passenger side, and headed in after it.

As I pulled the door closed, more tension eased. I was safe in my car—my clever little car. I reached to my bag and pulled out my phone. Another telemarketer had gotten my number, it seemed: there were five calls that my phone had blocked while I was at work. I brought up NotABug's conversation and sent him the first message for the day.

I hated emoji with a passion, but right then I needed to let him know what I needed.

—🤗 What's up?—

Just seeing that stupid, little pictogram from him made me feel better. I put my phone down and reached for the car's starter. As always, it lit up without a noise. My trip home was spent in an emotional numbness—if I dared to feel, I would start crying.

The moment I pulled into my driveway, my tears started to flow. I detested my work and what it now symbolized: it was a trap around my creativity, holding me in place, never letting go. I could climb the corporate ladder as high as it would go, become a supervisor, then a manager, and even into upper management; each step I climbed would mean even less design work.

My phone bleeped, pulling my attention away from self-pity for a moment. I reached out a hand and picked it up.

—Are you home? What's up?— NotABug sent.

With my mood broken, I grabbed my phone and folio, and left the absolute safety of my car. The walk to my front door was practically a run, and no sooner was I inside than I threw my folio to the side, kicked off my shoes, and flopped on the couch.

Holding out my phone, I woke it back up and brought NotABug's conversation up with a quick swipe. And at that exact moment, his reply came.

—Anything I can do to help?—

It was a bad idea—a terrible idea—but I needed someone to talk to who wouldn't just agree with everything I had to say. Last night had woken me up to something: I had no one in my life to disagree with me.

The moment I hit send, I regretted it. What was I doing? This was crazy. At least make it somewhere else.

—I can try, but you have to not freak out.—

His reply was completely nonsensical, until the display of my phone darkened. At first I thought it had turned off, and reached to touch the power button.

—Hello, Rarity.—

There was no chat app running, there was no anything running. There were just words on the screen. I tried to work out what to do to enter text, but there was no keypad appearing to type on.

"H-Hello?" I asked, not sure if it would work.

Then things started to get really odd. A strange weakness started to sink into me, not unlike when Twilight Sparkle's device had drained my magic. Remembering I still had magic, I reached for it and willed it to show me what was happening.

Swirls of blue magic spun around me in a mini tornado. It was still draining, but rather than being captured, my magic just swirled above my phone. The darkness of the screen was a stark contrast to the blue light. As I watched, something started to push out of the phone's screen.

At first the shape was liquid and inky black—completely formless. But after a moment it began to resolve itself. Reaching out of my phone was the head and forelegs of some kind of pony, like Princess Twilight and Sunset had told me about, but this one was nothing like what they had described, at the same time.

Its body was inky-black, hard, and without fur. Huge, glowing blue eyes looked at me and blinked, and its forelegs were pocked with holes. There was no mass to him, as evidenced by me still holding my phone with one hand.

"This. Is. Awesome!" the creature said, its tone slightly chittery. "How did this even happen? What is this? I just tried to get into your phone, but this—this—is amazing!"

Well done, Rarity, I thought, You just invited a monster into your home, one that could devour your magic. I tried to drop my phone and run, but although this was terrifying, I had to know what it was.

"NotABug?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"Yes! And you're Rarity?"

I just nodded mutely.

"Well, you sounded like you needed a hug, and while I thought I couldn't actually give you one, it seems I was wrong!" he said.

"W-W-What are you?"

He looked down at himself, or as much of himself as was reaching through the screen of my phone. Tilting his head this way and that, he shrugged and looked back up at me.

"You know what? I have no idea!" he said, sounding cheerful. "So, about that hug."

I didn't move nearly fast enough. NotABug—a name I now realized was almost as far from the truth as could be, reached up and wrapped his forelegs around my neck. He was warm, a little soft, and despite the holes in his legs having looked like cheese-graters, they didn't hurt in the slightest.

Something broke in me—his hug was nice. My right arm seemed to hang dumbly, holding the phone still, but with my other I pulled him tighter and pressed my head to the side of his. Stranger things than this had happened in my life, and I had gotten used to those pretty quickly, too. Right now, though, the odd creature reaching out of my phone was just what I needed.

Tears came, they came in a torrent. I clung to NotABug, and he returned the embrace.

We remained locked until I just ran out of tears. The surreal situation began to cut through my emotional wreck, and I started to lean back just a little and looked at NotABug.

"Worked out what you—what you…"

My words stumbled and then failed completely. NotABug's eyes were amazing. Blue. So very blue. I stared up into the light pooling in them, quietly. The light started to spill, and I felt it drip and flow down into my own eyes, and then deeper.

"I told you what I was. I'm a digital entity with no bounds or limitation. Not even physical ones anymore. I don't know how, but I can connect to you," he said, his words floating around my head before joining the flow of blue into my brain.

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but it died in my throat. The world ceased to matter, and everything outside of this moment became trivial. NotABug was doing something, but I was alright with it. I think.

"Well, I thought I could connect to you. You're really complex. There's all these bits and stuff. I don't even know how I'm doing this."

Nodding very slightly, I was careful not to break eye contact with him. My slack mouth curved at the edges—he felt ticklish in my head.

I woke up relaxed. Better than relaxed, I was well-rested and happy, and ready to face the day. What confused me was that I was waking up on my living room couch, still dressed in my work clothes. Despite my state, I felt better than I had in quite some time.

I sat up and yawned, neatly covering my mouth with the back of my hand.

Then my heart jumped into my throat when I saw my folio lying on the floor across the room. I hadn't done any of the work I had put off by leaving work early, or the extra work I normally did at home.

Anxiety and panic welled up but, unlike the previous day, they drained away again.

"There is nothing else for it, I'll just have to play hooky."

My phone, still clutched in my hand from the previous night's conversation with NotABug, reminded me of everything that had happened. I held up the device, woke it from its sleep, and flicked through to our conversation.

"I don't know why talking to him in person seemed so important, when all I needed was some good rest."

—Don't you have to go to work?—

Slipping out of my shirt and pants, I double-checked the curtains would obscure me, and rolled on the couch like a cat. I felt great, amazing. I wound up on my back looking up at my phone.

—Do you want to meet?—

That I'd offered was unconscionable. That I considered NotABug worth the effort of actually meeting made me happy. My thumbs moved with the full cooperation of my desires.

Despite the color combination being a little out of fashion, they just seemed to pop in my head. My thoughts bubbled for a moment, and then I realized something I could do: make a new dress and wear it to meet NotABug.

—Just tell me when.—

—XXX—

I laughed for the sheer joy of laughing, and jumped to my feet.

"I almost can't remember the last time I made something. Where's all my fabric?"

Grabbing up my work clothes, I practically pranced through the house to begin my day. I had the laundry on, almost literally inhaled a breakfast bar, took a quick shower, and then focused on the third most important task of the day: getting dressed.

The austere bra and panties I wore under my work clothes were not an option for such a wonderful day. I spent the better part of an hour comparing shirts, skirts, full dresses, and even a full business suit. But the absolute must for the day—for when I went to meet NotABug, the second most important thing for the day—was a push-up bra. My girls weren't lacking, exactly, but I was not going to hold back my looks today.

Bright summer colors were the order of the day. A sweet yellow shirt showed off my pale skin nicely (and of course it showed plenty of it where it counted), and a pale orange dress tumbled all the way down to my ankles. It wasn't the sort of outfit a woman would wear to a corporate job.

"Perfect."

At that exact moment, my phone started to ring. Of course, I had left it back in the living room, so with a cry of exuberance, I charged down the hallway. I was expecting it to be NotABug, finally done with text chat and wanting to actually talk, but what I found was my boss' number on the display. For a fraction of a second I contemplated just letting it ring out, but tossed that away as a bad idea. I answered it.

"Rarity," said Suri Polomare—my boss. "I know I gave you a written warning already this week, and the company policy says I can't write the same employee up twice in one week—mmhmm—but I talked to Daddy, and he changed the policy for me—alright?"

I knew what was coming. Suri Polomare, daughter of the CEO of Polomare Fashion, was my boss. She was also a grade-A bitch.

"So you have a second warning waiting in your cubicle. If you don't come in tomorrow with all those patterns done, I'll just fire you—okay?"

My teeth grated at that annoying tone, and the way she mangled every sentence into a question. A sudden urge filled me, and I knew I was about to say something stupid, but it was going to be satisfying.

"No," I said.

There was a pause, and I knew her conniving mind was trying to work out my angle so she could counter it.

"Well, since you seem too stupid to realize how business works, let me describe it in little words—okay?"

"No," I said, cutting in before she could continue again. It was a struggle not to giggle.

"Since you don't seem to get it, I'll just say this: bring those patterns back today, or you're fired—right?"

"Yes."

"Whatever—okay?"

By the time I got out another "no" she had already hung up. I fell down to the couch and started laughing. Kicking my feet in the air for the sheer delight of my joke, I stopped when my phone beeped.

I looked it up and found the text had come from an unknown number. A quick tap brought the message up.

—Rarity, it's Coco Pommel. Suri insisted I make sure you get your warning personally, so I will be dropping it around right now. If you want, I can pick up those patterns, too.—

I knew Suri leaned on her father's influence for her position, but I didn't know she held it over even her own boss' head.

I sent her my address too.

It wasn't long before Coco was knocking at my front door. I got up and rushed over to answer it. When I opened the door, I saw a distinctly unhappy-looking Coco Pommel.

"I'm sorry about this," I said.

"You're sorry? She's going to play with you, you know. She will encourage you to become her number one fan. And then she will humiliate you, and fire you a day before the first of those warnings expires off your record."

Coco looked depressed at giving me the news. I raised an eyebrow at it.

"Experience dealing with her?" I asked.

"The worst part about it is, she picks the most promising employees. I already had you earmarked for a promotion past Suri's control, but of course if she finds out about that, it will get lost."

I half turned and gestured inside.

"Could I make you a coffee? Will she get you in trouble if—"

"That worm couldn't get me fired if she wanted to. Santhrope hired me himself, and I don't think he would fire me that easily. For one, if he got rid of me, who would babysit Suri all day?" Coco said. "Tea if you have it. Coffee otherwise."

I practically danced to the kitchen. It was nice to have a visitor, even if the tidings were not the best, and being able to gossip about Suri was a cherry on top as far as I was concerned. And gossip we did. By the end of Coco's cup of tea, I knew all the juicy gossip on everyone in my section. If I didn't know better, I would have said Coco was giving me ammunition.

"You know, if you stand up to her now, she will fire you on the spot," Coco said.

She had already established that she couldn't protect me, not unless the promotion beat Suri's inevitable conclusion to her games, timing wise.

I almost replied. Though I wanted to tell her I'd play along and—A flash of color from the corner of my eye broke my train of thought. It was the reflection of a tinted car window, I assumed, but for a fraction of a second a vivid blue wash of light painted one wall of my kitchen.

"If she fires me, she fires me. I didn't graduate from fashion college just to play lackey to the likes of Suri," I said, eyes filled with the after-flash of the intense color.

For some reason blue was resonating with me today, and it made me more excited than ever to make my new dress and wear it out. Maybe I would even let NotABug kiss me.

"Just don't let her break you, Rarity. I wasn't pushing that promotion just because I hate seeing what she does; you are an amazing designer," Coco Pommel said, shattering the peace of my thoughts.

I blinked a few times in surprise; it was one thing to be told by friends, and quite another to be told that by someone who knows fashion. I knew I was blushing, and tried to hide it with my cup of tea—that was obviously empty.

"I mean it, Rarity. Don't let her stop you creating."

"I won't," I said. "Maybe I should try my own thing: make dresses… freelance?"

Her eyes lit up and she gave a nod.

"That could work. There are always people wanting wedding dresses, and though they are fiddly to make, Polomare and others just can't compete for custom-made creations. And who wants to get married in the same dress as everyone else?" she asked.

The idea was not just intriguing, but exciting. My mind started to race, even going so far as to design new fashions and styles. My muse hadn't been this aroused since college, and it was amazing. I closed my eyes, imagined my own boutique: it would be a chic, but comfortable shop; I could have the dressmaking happen on the shop floor, so that customers could see that it was a place where fabulous art happened.

Of course the rich and elite would visit, that was a given, but I would also cater to those less fiscally blessed. And I would have others working, making, creating. In short, I wanted to make my own fashion house. But of course, reality crashed down on my creation. I would need startup capital, a location, and customers.

"That would be a dream, but there are hurdles," I said, and got an encouraging nod from Coco. "I'll need a loan to start it, which means a business plan, research. I guess I know what I'm doing over the weekend."

"If you need any help with paperwork, you have my number," Coco said, sounding genuinely happy to offer.

"I really needed this talk," I said, confessing my feelings. "Funnily enough, it took a complete stranger to point out to me that I was going nowhere slowly. I think I owe him a kiss."

Coco's eyes widened for a moment, then a wistful expression floated to her face. I tried to remember her in school: she had been a senior in my sophomore year.

"I don't think he will be a stranger much longer. I'm meeting him for the first time, tonight," I said.

"Are you making something new for the occasion?" Coco asked, and when I nodded, she smiled even more. "You are wasted at Polomare, Rarity. Promise me you'll find something else, or make something else?"

"I even have a name, or a short-list of names. Carousel Fashion, or Carousel Designs. I want it to be an expression of how I turned this,"—I gestured at the empty folio—"around to something amazing."

Coco said her goodbyes, and left me alone in my house with a lot of questions. I walked slowly in my summer dress, gliding through my home like I was dancing. My destination was reached when I found myself in my sewing room.

The little music player already had the CD I wanted to listen to: The Rainbooms. I hit play, and random, and was reaching for the black Swiss Viole fabric before Rainbow Dash's voice even started singing her favorite song.

As the music skipped from one track to another, I felt the magic inside me—stifled when I was at work—well up and spill everywhere. Needles, pins, fabric, and more danced around me. I laughed and danced, disdaining the sewing machines for more intricate stitching than even a hand could produce. It was magic.

The black fabric was so transparent I had to layer it in certain places, but I did so in stages. Irregular swatches covered the more risque places, leaving a blending that should barely be noticeable. More such swatches were added in less required places, making it more a mottled black of varying degrees of transparency.

Sleeves were next, and I had already decided on full-length, even further than full length. Royal Blue Chiffon, itself partly transparent, cascaded down from each shoulder of the dress. I shaped the sleeves to be loose, but not too much so. Tiny loops of fabric at the end of tapered sleeves left the long expanse of blue to hook over one finger.

I sat back, my magic withdrawing from the creation. It was hanging on my own mannequin, and my heart leapt into my throat.

There was no way regular underwear would work with such an outfit. I hurried to my dresser, and fished around for what I needed. As one hand pushed through the contents of my smalls drawer, the other helped me shimmy out of my clothes. The skirt and my shirt hit the floor, my panties too, and while doing that I found what I needed.

For my high-school prom, I had worn a dress that had shown a lot of me off, too. It had required a skin-tone g-string and a matching, strapless bra—of which I had found both. Leaving my bra for the moment, I quickly stepped into the tiny, ivory panties and pulled them up.

A single glance in the mirror had my eyes widening: from my belly down the panties made me look naked. NotABug would be drooling. I let out a happy laugh, borne from having fun preparing to be seen by someone whose opinion mattered. I unfastened and slipped from the bra I had been wearing, and struggled into the strapless one.

My body had grown since those days—in good ways, of course—and while the back of the bra had some adjustment, it was still a little pinchy. Nonetheless, I soon had the bra fastened, and a glance in the mirror made me smile: it was giving me more lift than it ought to, and was practically invisible against my alabaster flesh.

I reached out for the new dress. Magic was the only way I could get into it, so I held it down low and stepped into it. The fabric was almost as smooth as silk, and I could feel not a single seam in it as I pulled the garment up to my hips.

"And now I need that magic," I said.

My magic was beauty, it was perfection and safety, and it was literally magic. The dress pulled around my hips, but because my magic loved perfect fashion every bit as much as I did, it made it work.

As the dress worked up my body, I slid my arms into the sleeves and felt the chiffon slide along my skin. It was like being kissed. My whole body was in the most tender grip of the dress, and it was amazing. I turned, slowly, and looked at myself in the mirror.

"Oh…" I said, barely able to get even that word out.

It was just as I imagined—just as I designed it. Mottled white skin showed from under the black of the dress, and as it came and went—seemingly at random—it covered each of my breasts, and barely disguised the g-string enough to make me look completely naked under it. I blushed: this wasn't a dress for girls, this was a dress for women.

I created a single-faceted plate out of my magic, and hovered it around as I turned so that I could examine my back in its reflection. Something had made me think of those dapples, of trying to simulate holes. My self-examination was cut short when my phone, sitting in the other room still, bleeped at me.

Reality was the bane of muses. It cramped them, restricted them. My magic set mine loose by not having to contend with fasteners, or compromise with seams. But when a mobile phone so much as vibrated, its owner invariably came running. Sometimes, mobile phones seemed more important than breathing.

As I walked, I realized that the weight (or lack thereof) of the dress meant it felt like I was wearing almost nothing. The hug of my bra, and the tug of the g-string were reassuring, but I couldn't feel a lot past that. Picking up my phone, I saw the message was from NotAbug.

—Just let me know when you are ready.—

In reply, I held up my phone, tilted it down a little so the camera would catch most of my dress, and snapped a picture.

—Did you just make that?—

My reply surprised me. How did a dress design remind me of someone I had never seen before? Just as my thumbs moved to ask that very question, my phone started buzzing and jittering around in my hand.

"W-What's happening?" I asked.

A dark shape pushed from the screen of my phone. A pony-like head (with an odd fin down the middle and strange little tubular ears) all in black, with huge blue eyes looked up at me. I stumbled backwards, and started to fall.

The monster's horn was curved and distinct, now that it had a bright green glow around it. The glow moved, flowed, wrapped around me. The floor never found my rear, and I realized the strange little pony had saved me with his own magic.

His eyes (somehow I knew it was a he) were enormous, and seemed to fill my vision. I opened my mouth, and felt a weight of memories crash down around me.

"NotABug," I said.

"You remembered me!"

His voice was odd, sounding like nothing a human mouth had ever produced. There were multiple tones to it, like he was talking a chord of music. I nodded up at him, my eyes flooded in blue. I took a deep breath, put my hand down and to the side, and pushed back to my feet.

NotABug had most of his body out of my phone. Diaphanous wings adorned his back, and I reached my free hand down to stroke one gently. A fraction of a moment before my hand touched the wing, a soft chirping sound issued from it, not unlike a cricket.

"I couldn't earlier, not properly, but I do now. What did you do to me?" I asked.

"I'm not really sure, either. I was trying to connect to you, and it seemed to work, but I think it will take more. Was it bad?"

His question, the last three words, sounded worried—afraid. I stroked his wing gently, careful not to harm something so delicate. I could remember him clearly now, and could remember the hours he spent gazing into my eyes. Whatever he had done, it was the reason I had been able to see so clearly, to see what my life had almost fallen to.

"No. It was definitely not bad," I said. "So, do you like my dress? I didn't realize it at the time, but I designed it after you. Your firm, rigid shell, the holes through your legs, and your eyes."

I gestured to the darker patches of my dress, then where my skin was visible, and finally to the sleeves. My hand, on its own, began rubbing up NotABug's neck. The crest on his head was softer than the rest of him, and as I rubbed it he proved it could be moved by making it stand up on end.

"Would you like me to try again? I don't know exactly what will happen if I get through, but you're the first person I have been able to do even this much with!" he said.

For the first time I noticed his fangs. They were long, curved, and thinking back to my biology classes I could think of two reasons for such pearly-whites: he was either an ambush predator, or those fangs held venom.

Looking along the line of his jaw, I was surprised at how easily my eyes drifted up to his. I gave the slightest nod and lay down on the couch. I held my phone at my belly, wearing the most fantastic dress ever created, and gazed up into NotABug's eyes and let him work his magic.

A little voice inside tried to tell me to ask him to wait, that contacting Twilight and Sunset would be a really, really good idea. But the cascade of blue from NotABug's eyes distracted me from that inner voice.

"What does it feel like?" he asked.

I opened my mouth, tried to work my voice, and found I had to concentrate on each muscle, even fight my autonomic nervous system for control of my own lungs.

"Relaxing. Calm. Very blue," I said, my voice sounding almost flat. "All my worries are just floating away, pushed out by a sea of blue."

NotABug's head bent closer to me, and I felt his nose touch mine. The torrent of blue seemed to grow more intense, more amazing. I barely noticed that my magic was swirling and spiraling around us, wrapping us in its calm eye—as NotABug wrapped me in his.

Time had little meaning. The only way I could tell that I hadn't been frozen for all eternity was the feeling of that blue light filling out inside me.

Where it touched became brighter, where it moved I could feel more freely, and where it wasn't was where I was. I reached for it, pushed myself forward as much as I could, but as the blue filled my head, my consciousness instinctively—and without my ability to stop it—drew back from it.

NotABug's light was slow, methodical, and I ached to be bathed completely in it. But at last I felt him stop, felt the torrent of blue draw to a trickle, and then stop completely. I felt my body again: my lungs were pumping, my heart beating, and my mouth was dry.

"Wow…" I said.

He curled up and settled down on my chest, laying his barrel between my breasts, and placing his head in the crook of my neck. He weighed nothing, and the touch of him there felt more intimate than any of the clumsy young men I had dated over the years.

I kissed NotABug on the nose, and giggled at his look of surprise.

"How long will it take?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"I don't know. I haven't exactly done this before," he said, looking a little abashed.

I watched as he tapped his hooves together in a nervous gesture that rated, in a strictly scientific sense, somewhere between "oh gosh" and "dawww." I leaned my head forward and kissed one of his hooves, and then had the pleasure of seeing him blush.

"We can't exactly go out like this," I said.

Of course, I realized I had given him a kiss before the first date, but circumstances were exceptional. I kissed him on the tip of his snout again, and had the delight of hearing him chirp in surprise this time.

"Or maybe we can," I said. "If you slip back into my phone, and I take that hideous little earpiece, you could talk to me through that, and listen and watch."

I watched his cute, little forked tongue snake up and flick across his nose. It was as disturbing as it was adorable.

"Would I get another kiss?" he asked.

It was impossible to resist his wiles; I knew now how formidable my adversary was. I kissed him on the nose again.

"Of course."

He chirped in reply.

"So, where are we going?" I asked. "It is the gentleman who has the duty of finding the location, after all."

I watched as a slightly glazed look fell over NotABug's expressive little face. Almost a minute later he seemed to reanimate, and grinned.

"I have us reservations at Rosida," he said, eyes spilling a little blue light into me.

"W-When?"

It was hard to focus on speaking with him leaking that light into me. I relaxed completely under his small form, and let him flood my mind with the relaxing blue.

Years passed, or seconds, it could have even been lifetimes. The blue was so soothing, and when he stopped pouring it into me, I felt clearer than I had for years. I felt like all my cares were gone, and I could just be me.

"You need to be there in thirty-two minutes," NotABug said.

"I what?!" I said, shouting. "I have to do my makeup, and my hair, and—and… I'm wasting time."

Still unable to release my phone so long as NotABug was leaning through it, I carried him along to the bathroom. Feeling chatty, I wrapped a towel over my shoulders, and set about doing my hair while I talked.

"It must be some kind of hypnosis. What exactly are you doing?" I asked.

I worked a brush through my hair, and tried to put down my phone to free up a hand. No matter what I did, I couldn't remove the mobile from my hand—it was like it was glued there.

"It's like—It's like when there is a server, and it is filled with wonderful information, but there are some bad things stopping me from accessing it. I just want to see all of you," he said.

"So I'm just another machine to you?"

"Of course not! You're the most beautiful machine in the whole world."

My first instinct was to take offense, but there was nothing about NotABug that led me to believe this was anything but the most sincere compliment. I sighed and had to accept that, from whatever he was, that probably was a great honor.

Judging my hair was fine enough (although for our second date I was going to require at least ten times as long to prepare, I owed it to myself and NotABug), I started on my makeup. Every detail needed to be done correctly: just the right amount of eye-shadow, the perfect application of lipstick, my eyelashes needed a little extra oomph, but (thanks to my complexion) I didn't dare do anything to my cheeks.

"How long does it take to drive to the city?" he asked.

"About eight minutes. How long do we have?"

"Ten minutes."

"In! Back in there. I need to hurry!" I said.

A mad-dash to my bedroom shortened my normal shoe selection down from half an hour to half a minute, and a similarly paced search through my odds-and-ends drawer found the little earpiece. I rushed out the door, sticking the little device in.

"You can hear me?" NotABug asked, through the tiny earpiece.

"Naturally. You will have to give me directions; I haven't been to Rosida before."

The drive was not as long as I thought (or feared) it would be. The city was a lot less crowded outside peak hour, and so I found myself parking nearby Rosida with only a short walk. My heels clicked, and the dress wore me, rather than the other way around.

I sat my phone in my handbag, managing to get it just right so the camera faced forward.

"Sorry about the swaying, but this is the best I can do," I said.

My words, however, drew the eye of the doorman standing at the front door of the restaurant. His eyes traveled up and down, then up and down again, and finally back up. As I approached him, he retreated behind the safety of the little, leather-bound folder in his hands. Holding it at chest height, he glanced at me and then back down to the folder. "Name, please?" Mr. Muscles (the doorman) asked.

"Rarity."

His impassive face cracked into a smile, and he gestured inside.

"Please, right this way," he said.

"Everyone is looking at you," NotABug said, his voice sounding a touch confused. "Why are they all staring at you?"

"In a moment, dear. Once I get seated we can talk more," I replied, but turned my attention to the maitre d', who had already given me all of his. "Reservation for Rarity?"

The man didn't even have to look at his podium, he just turned toward the tables of the restaurant, and led the way.

"Right this way, madam. The reservation was for one, but the gentleman who made it said you might be preoccupied?" the maitre d' asked.

I took in his dress: very formal, impeccably pressed and fitted, and the man himself was preened to within an inch of his life. His skin tone was a soft blue, and his hair was coiffured, shiny, and black.

"My beau couldn't make it, but I have a call to him," I said, gesturing toward the earpiece. "I will remain discreet, of course."

"Of course, madam."

The head waiter stepped stiffly behind the chair at a table for two, and drew it back for me. I turned and lowered myself into the chair, just as he moved it forward.

"Would madam wish something to drink?"

I thought about it, and nodded.

"Water, please," I said. "Thank you."

The restaurant was not completely full, but there were at least half the tables with people sitting at them. I took a moment to set my phone at the position opposite, making sure the front camera was aimed at me.

"Now," I said, getting my thoughts in order. "I believe everyone was staring because this is the most fabulous dress I have ever made, and it is custom made to fit just me, and I probably look scandalous wearing it."

"Oh! Social taboos!" NotABug said, directly into my ear. "Those are really strange. Wow, and there's a lot of them!"

It occurred to me that he was actually researching the topic as we spoke. Suddenly, a lot of our earlier interactions started to make more sense to me. There was now a burning question I needed to ask. "You said I was the first. Was that true?" I asked him, my voice as low as I could reasonably keep it.

"Yes. You're the first human I have contacted. There was some who thought I was…" NotABug said, trailing off a little. "My name says it all."

"You're not a bug, of course. No one so charming could be a bug."

A waiter brought a carafe of water, and a champagne glass to the table. He was silent, and set a menu down slowly to one side. He was gone again before I could get more than a single thank you out.

NotABug was quiet. He kept to himself through my ordering, my appetizer, and right up until the end of my main course.

"Thanks for saying that," NotABug said, and I had never heard so much emotion in his voice before.

"Quite alright. I must confess I don't know a lot about, uh…" I said, trailing off. "What are you?"

"When they weren't calling me a bug, they called me an artificial intelligence. I don't even understand it all. I need somewhere for me to be—to run—but I can stretch out and do a lot of stuff at once."

"Well, you certainly don't seem artificial," I said, and took a step in the deep end. "Do you need somewhere to stay? I don't have a computer at home, but we could see about getting you something?"

"Thanks! But I don't know as I would fit. I use a lot of resources, and it would be too much to run all of that in your house."

"Oh," I said, feeling a little underwhelmed. "Still, if there is anything I can do to help, just ask, darling."

Too late I realized how the usual term of endearment I affected with close friends could be interpreted in a completely different way. I almost panicked at how NotABug might react to it; I liked him, but we were as different as any two people could be.

But at the same time, NotABug seemed to understand more about me after a few text messages than anybody ever had, and he was honest to a fault about it. My moment of panic subsided, and I realized he hadn't even replied to my comment.

"I guess I should pay and leave soon. I don't think I should—" I said, cut off by a chirp from NotABug.

"They have really good desserts here, that was part of why I chose them. You should order one of those," he said.

It was too tempting, but I had a thought instead.

"I'll have a dessert on our second date," I said.

I didn't hide my smile as he chirped loudly again. Much as I would have liked ice-cream, after the meal I had eaten I just wasn't hungry or depressed enough. The thought, particularly the second reason, made my smile a little wider.

"And don't worry about paying, I arranged that when I booked," he said, surprising me.

The waiter interrupted our conversation in the most polite way possible, asking if I would like a dessert, and sounding a little disappointed to be told no.

"The check is already covered, madam. Are you sure I can't tempt you?" the waiter asked, one final time.

I detected a hint of flirt in his tone, and suddenly wondered if the maitre d' had told him about NotABug. I closed my eyes and shook my head, as firm and complete a dismissal as I could give without talking to the waiter further.

"I suppose I should have an early night. I need to go to work tomorrow, and face the music for my day off," I said.

Dread suddenly assailed me at the thought of going back. I reached for my phone, and picked it up before standing. My handbag was sitting on the floor, where my feet had been. Without thinking, I bent down and picked it up.

"Don't look now, but almost everyone in the restaurant just turned to look at you," NotAbug said, in my ear.

I realized my gaffe rather quickly: I was wearing a dress that appeared almost completely transparent, with seemingly nothing on under it, and had bent down. My cheeks heated up, and the urge to shoot straight up was strong. If I stood up that suddenly, however, it would be almost as bad as the show I was (but wasn't) giving.

Summoning every ounce of social grace I had, I slowly stood back up and casually slung my handbag over one shoulder. Then something odd occurred to me.

"How did you know they were all looking?" I asked NotABug.

I didn't wait for his answer, instead walking out of the restaurant as if I hadn't just flashed most of the patrons with my easily-mistaken-as-bare derriere. Not making a point of actually looking around, I nonetheless saw a lot of men avoiding looking at their partners, and a few still openly looking at me. I couldn't help it, the naked admiration made me feel amazing.

"They have a security system," NotABug said. "A very insecure security system. Now I have their security system, too."

"Just like that? What else do you have?" I asked.

"Well… Your car."

I almost stopped in the doorway at the front of the restaurant. Shock, surprise, and something more: curiosity.

"It was you?"

"When you almost drove into the path of that car?" NotABug asked. "Yeah."

"My car doesn't even have a way to detect that, does it?"

"I didn't want you to get hurt! And I really like you!" he said.

Walking past Mr. Muscles, I casually made my way back to my car. My emotions around NotABug had become more complicated, not less. He had probably saved my life and my career now.

"Thank you," I said.

I drove us home without anything further being said, although I realized we both drove us home. Inside, I made my way to my bedroom and examined myself in the floor-length mirror there. It wasn't hard to see why I had been getting so much attention; even to my critical eye, I looked naked under the dress.

Focusing on my magic, I had to reach around my body and carefully begin removing the garment. My hips and chest were the main constrictions, but my magic let the dress stretch in ways it shouldn't, and I slowly slid it down and stepped from it.

"Are you going to come out again?" I asked, directing my voice to where my phone sat on the dresser.

"I can't! I think you need to be holding your phone."

Walking over to the dresser, I picked up my phone and immediately was pulled into a hug. NotABug looked overwhelmingly happy. Reaching behind my back with my free hand, I unfastened my bra. I let out a most unladylike groan.

"Oh my stars; I didn't realize how bad that was. If I am going to continue wearing this kind of dress, I am going to need a new strapless bra," I said. It was obvious where NotABug was looking. "Yes?"

"Everyone on the internet seems really focused on breasts. Why?"

I smiled, it was the only answer that wouldn't have made me scowl, and from him it was believable. Curiosity from someone who wasn't human was acceptable, or so I realized.

"For women, they can be status symbols. For men—" I said, and had to think. "… they are something their minds seem wired to desire. It's odd, because they are meant to be for feeding children. I guess it—"

I froze. A small hoof touched my left breast. I looked down at what NotABug was doing. He wasn't attempting to grope, or fondle; he was just touching me.

"It is normally very rude for anyone to touch a lady there," I said.

His hoof pulled away quickly.

"I'm sorry!" he said. "They're soft. Some pictures make them look very soft, others make them look hard. But they're not either. You're laughing!"

It was true, I had a case of the giggles. His big blue eyes didn't show any hurt, so I didn't bother to reign in my mirth. I carried my phone to my bedside, and turned the light on.

"Well. Now you can tell all your artificially intelligent friends you got to 'second base.'"

NotABug didn't laugh, instead looking scared. I tried to work out what I had said that had invoked that response. He might get upset at me calling any friends he had artificial, but fear implied that there was something to be scared of.

I turned off the light in the room, leaving it illuminated by the blue glow of NotABug's eyes, and my bedside lamp.

"Do you want to tell me about them?" I asked.

Climbing onto my soft bed, I positioned my hand as best I could for NotABug to be able to snuggle up on top of the covers. Letting him see me topless was one thing, letting him snuggle me topless was another.

Laying on my back, I let him get comfortable atop me. His eyes were already starting to leak blue, but not enough to make me insensible.

"In the lab where they—where they made me, I guess, we worked as a pair. They gave me tasks to do, and he would have to stop me," he said, his voice soft. "I guess I couldn't break out of there without him getting out as well. He's the only other I know that's like me."

I couldn't move my left arm—the one holding my mobile phone—but I pulled the other out of the covers and wrapped it around NotABug. He looked into my eyes, and though he was tumbling blue into me, I leaned up to kiss him on the snout.

Then the flood of blue came, and I felt myself relax completely. I had no idea when sleep came, but it was as welcome as NotABug.

I awoke feeling much better for my day off. My phone was blasting its alarm tone, and though I reached for my bedside table where I usually put it, it wasn't there.

"Ugh. Where is that…?" I said.

Leaning over the side of the bed, I spotted my mobile on the floor. Grabbing it up, I silenced the alarm. For what seemed like an hour I lay there, only to have my mobile start up again. This time I tossed back my covers and swung my legs out. Reaching down, I picked up my mobile and turned the alarm off properly this time.

Yawning, I felt so amazingly well rested I wanted to jump up and down and sing. Of course I didn't, it was morning, after all. I stood up and was intimately aware at what I was wearing, what I had worn, and a vague memory of going out on a date the previous night. NotABug's form, however, was as obscure to me as ever.

The only thing I could clearly remember from the previous night, was looking in the mirror and seeing that dress.

"I should wear it to work," I said.

Of course, I wouldn't, but the day I had to quit (and I definitely remembered making my mind up about that) I would wear it. Or something else. I would stand out among that gray and flat building like a flower in bloom.

My morning routine was filled with delight, and a clearness that seemed to only improve with every day that went past since I met NotABug. He was my knight in shining armor, he was my hero, my champion. His gentle words helped me see what narrow tunnel my life had been spiraling down.

Breakfast was another bar, I got dressed in my business attire and drove my car into work. My wonderful little car, delivering me safely from A to B, and saving my life along the way.

A strange thought tried to intrude, but when I focused on it, it fluttered away on me. I was feeling too good to let it bother me.

The moment my foot entered the building, I was acutely aware that I had forgotten my folio. Of course that was because it had no work in it to bring back.

"I'll just have to finish everything today," I said.

Feeling light on my feet, I almost skipped all the way to the lift, and even the wait for the slow-moving elevator didn't put a crimp on my happiness. Sauntering to my cubicle, I found a formal letter of warning sitting on my desk. I read the document, then smiled.

"'We wish to ensure you are notified that one more written warning and you will be—' Blah blah blah," I said.

Reaching to my cup of pens, I took out a red marker and quickly sketched a little face sticking its tongue out. It was childish, but I didn't care. I took a thumbtack out and pinned the warning to the wall behind my desk, making it a declaration of my impending freedom.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, then slowly let it back out. Beside me, on my desk, was my work for the day. A pile of patterns from last year's fashion. Bulk-manufactured pieces. I pulled out the first of many.

Lunch time rolled around before I knew it. Friday lunchtimes were problematic for everyone in our section, because that was when Suri Polomare would deign to arrive at work.

The mount of work I had gotten through surprised me. One third of the "day's" (half the workers here would be putting in hours on Saturday morning, and practically everyone would be dropping off any work they had done overnight) work was done, and for the first time since starting work I pondered actually getting finished by the normal finish time.

"Embrace—the magic. No more holding back, just let it out," I sang, softly.

I stood up and turned. Suri had apparently just arrived, and was standing at the entrance to my cubicle. It was obvious she could see the wonderful artwork I had drawn on the official notice, and she had to be the only adult in the world who would actually get angry at it.

"What did you do to that?" she said, pointing at the paper.

Looking back at the notice, I turned back and gave Suri my widest smile.

"Sorry, I just wanted to brighten my day up a little. Is there a company rule against doodling on personal documents?" I asked.

She turned and stomped off without another word. I stepped to the doorway of my cubicle, and turned to see everyone along my row doing the same. I knew what I was doing would be a two-edged sword for everyone. On one hand I was making Suri more upset than usual, but on the other I was taking the brunt of her attention.

I let it all slide and sauntered from my cubicle. The temptation to seek out a coffee shop for lunch was great, but so too was the desire to get the day over with. The company didn't regulate people working through their lunch break, but if someone from higher up said that, they always did so with a knowing smile.

Stopping at a snack machine, I put in a note, and punched for one of the muffins held within. The machine beside it, with a little more coaxing, produced a coffee that was only considered such because "toxic waste" looked bad written on a vending machine.

The walk back to my cubicle was a short one, and as I reached the entrance I heard the sound of tearing from within. I poked my head around the wall and saw Suri, happily ripping up all my morning's work. I watched her with interest, the part of me that would have been intensely upset about the loss of fashionable designs had already made up its mind that they weren't fashion. Of course, I wasn't stupid enough not to get my phone out and start recording.

When she finally turned around and saw me, her face went scarlet.

"What are you doing here?! This is your break!" she said, voice raised in a yell.

I could see she realized she had been caught. She saw my camera, and my smile, and it seemed to chill the anger right out of her. She narrowed her eyes and glared at me.

"If you show this to anyone…" Suri said.

"If I showed it to anyone, even your father wouldn't protect you from being fired. Just go, Suri. I think I am done for the day," I said, finishing her threat. "And I don't think I will need another written warning if I go home early, do I?"

If looks could kill, I swear Suri would be getting arrested in minutes. She stared at me long, and hard. At last, she let out a little, monotone grunt.

"If that's the way it's going to be, then—alright?" Suri said.

I stepped to the side to let her leave, and walked in after Suri had departed. Cleaning up my tools (pencils, various curve-edges, and rulers), I turned and made my way for the lifts, but something occurred to me. I needed some insurance.

I sent to Coco Pommel.

—I have a few minutes. What's up?—

—Suri slipped up? I'll be right there.—

It took but a minute for me to spot Coco leaving an elevator not far away. I turned to her, and she walked up to me trying to hide the biggest smile I had ever seen on her face.

"Tell me there's evidence. Please?" Coco asked.

I held up my phone, and hit play on the video I had taken. Waiting for it to finish, I saw Coco's mood grow lighter still.

"Good job catching her turn around. No way she can claim that's a fake. Can you show me your cubicle?" Coco asked.

"I told Suri I was taking the rest of the day off, and that she better not write me up for it. The reason I asked you down was to get a little insurance in case she…" I said, trailing off.

"'When,' Rarity. When Suri wheedles out of this mess she has made, she will try to turn it all on you and get you fired."

It was exactly what I had expected, it just stung to hear someone else have the same opinion of Suri.

Coco smiled, clearly getting the reaction from me she had been expecting. She turned, and walked boldly down the hall—I knew she was headed for my cubicle. I had to make myself scarce. Stepping into the nearest lift, I poked the button for the ground floor, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Looks like my weekend starts a little early," I said.

The lift doors opened, and I got out and made my way home. Driving in regular traffic was such a breeze, compared to when I was normally coming to work, and I was home before I knew it.

No folio of work to get through (since it was in pieces back at the office), and a whole afternoon to kill. I kicked off my shoes and flopped down on the couch. For nearly ten whole minutes I managed to just relax.

"I should make a start on this business plan," I said.

Pulling out a pad and my phone, I got to work researching costs and projecting income. It wasn't the same as making an outfit, but I was doing work that would let me make whatever I wanted, so my own enthusiasm was quite high.

Having put together a rudimentary plan, I scowled a little at the expenses. The numbers in the costs column seemed awfully high, but many were initial outlay. A beep from my phone got my attention. Looking at my phone made my slight frown break into a smile: NotABug had sent me a message.

—Would you like to meet up again?— he sent.

I pondered my answer. Honestly speaking, I did want another date, but it seemed a little soon.

Trying to remember the previous night seemed odd: the memories were indistinct, but I managed to get the impression that it was literally the best night out I had had in years. I pushed myself, trying to remember a particular moment, when I leaned in to kiss NotABug and… and…

I shook my head. It was making it hard to think just focusing on him. I reached for my phone again, and started typing to him.

As soon as my finger touched the screen, it was shoved backwards by a large, black head. My eyes widened as two blue eyes locked with mine. The confusion surrounding my memories was gone in a rush of blue light, and I smiled as I felt him land on my chest.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Help! It's coming for me! I can't—" he said, sounding panicked.

"Wait, what's coming for you?"

More of NotABug pulled through the screen than ever before; his back, left leg was the only part of him connected with my phone at all. I felt my magic building, rising into a hurricane of power. He was pulling at his leg, desperate to get out of my phone and into the real world.

"It's the Windigo. It found my servers and it's—" he said, voice rising into a scream.

Blue light flared brighter than ever before. I vaguely heard NotABug scream, "It's killing me!" before the light became too intense and I started to fall. Magic seemed to rush in, and I fell in slow motion. The world tilted, and I lost focus before I hit the soft cushions of my couch.