Paradox Sunflower had come, and she did not come alone. She came bearing familiars, a cat as well as an owl, and then had burst through the door of Corduroy’s infirmary. Of course, this annoyed Corduroy, but Paradox—patient, though not a patient—explained herself, what was going on, and offered up a perfectly logical reason as to why she’d come. Her timing? Almost perfect, as Corduroy was on the verge of doling out a lecture.
Now, as Corduroy patched up his leg, Sundance sat in confused silence while Paradox fawned over the now cleaned up and bandaged owlcoon. Paradox understood magic, and perhaps even more annoying, understood how magic spoke to and interacted with creatures. Within mere seconds of entering, Paradox had announced that the scalded critter was a familiar, which immediately caused one-million and one questions to rise within Sundance’s troubled mind.
“Magic rewards circumstances and opportunity,” Paradox said, speaking without directing her words at anypony—or anydoggy—in particular.
“But… the owlcoon could have died,” Corduroy replied as she removed hardened mud from Sundance’s leg.
“But it didn’t.” As Paradox spoke, Geiger walked a lap around the edge of the table, careful of where he put his paws. “The land… the land is doing something. I don’t know what. It’s like Grandmother Oak and everything else. Sometimes, it feels like the land is preparing. Or that the land is eager to be busy again. We serve the land and the land wants to reward us.”
“So what if the owlcoon had died?” asked Corduroy.
“It’s like… cement,” replied Paradox. “It’s not set yet. If we bring Lemongrass in here though, you’ll see something amazing happen. You said it yourself, Corduroy. You thought that Lemongrass could use a friend. That’s the magic of the land, speaking through you, trying to make its will known. Your ideas, your intuition, magic can and does speak through those means.”
Ears folding flat, the nurse scowled. “My ideas are my own. It was just a reasonable thing to do. Circumstance—”
“Just like it was circumstance that Sundance just so happened to be flying overhead,” Paradox said, nodding in an annoying know-it-all manner. “Magic is trying to close the loop. It’s like cutie mark magic… something touched by destiny. I cast a spell to find a familiar. For others, it is just something that happens naturally. Through force of will, I made my destiny happen. I seized it. Made destiny serve me. Princess Celestia says that I know more about this subject than just about anypony, even her. It’s not something that is studied, for the most part. I suppose most unicorns don’t think it’s wondrous enough. But I do, and you can bet that I’ll be writing all this down later. The land wants to give the unicorns that live here every advantage, I think.”
“Sometimes,” Corduroy began in a low, muted voice, “magic sounds delusional. Nonsensical and make-believe, with enough coincidence to give it credibility.”
“You… you are a magical creature.” Paradox stood aghast, shock plainly visible on her face. “You have magical strength—you’re ogre strong! You have magical claws that can slice through stone like a hot knife through butter. Even worse, you’re an alchemist. You cast spells through alchemical reactions. How can you say that?”
“It wasn’t as difficult as you’re about to make it out to be—”
“You live on a planet where a pair of magical pony princess sisters control the sun and moon.” The air now reeked of ozone and little crackles of static could be seen flickering through Paradox’s mane. “Love and friendship are a tangible, measurable force, a source of power. Ugh, you are a dull creature!”
At this, Corduroy rolled her eyes, and almost said something, but the owlcoon hooted.
“I know,” Paradox said, apparently in agreement with the owlcoon.
“You can speak to him?” asked Sundance.
“Her,” Paradox corrected. “And so can you, if you try. You did once. That cry for help. If you put some effort into it, you could probably talk to Geiger. Say… you’re not a unicorn. Just how is it that you’re talking to familiars, anyhow?” Lips puckered in thought, the studious unicorn cast her scrutinous gaze upon Sundance and began to dissect him with her eyes.
“Corduroy, help me… she’s doing that thing again… looking at me as if I’m a book to be studied and not a pony.”
Sighing, Corduroy shook her head, fetched the bottle of iodine, and ignoring Sundance’s sudden howls for mercy, went to work on the mess that was his foreleg.
Magic was the only thing weird enough to make Sundance completely forget about all of his troubles, everything that had driven him skyward in the first place. Introducing Lemongrass to the owlcoon was most certainly magic. Something could be felt, and the shy, mostly quiet colt became quite animated. Corduroy had started to explain how he needed to be careful, but her instructions died on her tongue when she realised they weren’t necessary.
It was an interaction that, to an observer such as Sundance, was almost as if Lemongrass and the owlcoon had known each other forever, and their introduction was just them picking up where they left off. There was no shy hesitation, no fearful caution, and to Sundance’s eyes, it could only be described as a friendship that had always existed.
Even Hollyhock seemed shook up by the event. She had started to complain, oh, Hollyhock had a lot to say as a mother whose foal was in close proximity to a wild animal, one that had mauled Sundance just a bit, but these worried words were quick to go away and she, like Sundance, observed in solemn silence.
Perhaps the most profound thing of all was the change that had come over Paradox, who now fawned over Lemongrass, even going as far as touching him—something that the anxious unicorn typically would not do under any circumstances. Sundance realised that they had something in common now, they both had familiars, and as such, had something that they could talk about. A common ground, a similar shared experience had been established.
“This is a sacred trust,” Paradox said to Lemongrass. “Twilight Sparkle calls it a very special type of friendship. The bond between a familiar and its master is not well understood. It is one of the many things about magic that remain mysterious, and a lot of ponies take it for granted.” She drew in a deep breath, sighed, and drew in another.
“Geiger became my best friend, and he gave me the courage to face the world. I don’t always like what he has to say, and sometimes, he pushes me out of my comfort zone, but he does that because he’s my friend. And you, Lemongrass, now you have a very special friend with a very special bond. I think that, when we settle down and begin your magical education, once everything quiets down and I have a place where I can teach you, we’ll focus on this bond and all of the things that can be done with it. Would you like that, Lemongrass?”
The colt looked up at Paradox and for a moment, Sundance was certain that his heart would cease beating. Such a hopeful expression. There was so much joy, so much warmth in the colt’s eyes. As for Paradox, she was trembling, and while whatever it was that she was feeling at the moment remained unknown, she seemed happy enough in her own way. She and Lemongrass had the sort of common ground needed to build a relationship upon, and Sundance was hopeful that good things would come of it.
“I can be a wizard?”
“Yes.” Paradox nodded with a great deal of enthusiasm to drive this point home.
“Sounds nice,” said Lemongrass.
Then, much to Sundance’s shock and surprise, Paradox pulled the colt into a hug.
All things considered, Sundance felt pretty good about himself. His thoughts didn’t feel so cluttered. His flight, however brief, had given him some clarity of mind, even if no real answers had been found. It didn’t matter that his back hurt, or that his leg was now just a teensy bit mangled, because Lemongrass now had a best friend, a buddy, an accomplice that might one day help him serve tea.
Anything was possible.
A know-nothing pegasus from the city of Baltimare might become a baron.
With anything being possible, so was the unexpected. Coincidence and circumstance. A crystal tree might sprout and start making somewhat unreasonable demands, or perhaps impossible demands. Even worse, one might settle in and attempt to make those impossible things become a reality. Why? To satisfy the whims of a tiny crystalline tree, of course.
All around him, the impossible was taking place. New homes, new life, there was a multitude of evidence that the barony’s fortunes were turning. So what if there were problems on the horizon? Sundance was aware that there were problems; he knew that Rustic and Turmeric were dealing with a Really Big Problem right now. This minute. But things would work out—and even if they didn’t for some reason, Sundance knew his friends would help him pick up the pieces.
He’d spent too long on the ground, and at some point, he’d focused too much on too few details. Pegasus ponies did better when focused on the bigger picture. Today, briefly, he had himself a reminder of his barony as a whole. A plethora of little details that made one big satisfying whole. As a reminder, it was greatly needed.
Everything that Paradox had said stuck with him. It lodged in his mind and he reflected upon it now. Things happened for a reason. Destiny took whatever events were available and did whatever it could with them, almost like playing whatever hand of cards that one had been given. It left him with a lot to think about. If he had failed to save the owlcoon, there would have been a tragic death, sure, but something else would no doubt become Lemongrass’ familiar.
Which meant that, life went on, even if awful things happened.
“You look happier.”
“Pegasus pony has got to fly,” he replied as Corduroy sat down in the grass beside him.
“And dog has got to give chase.” Corduroy nodded. “Dirty things have to be scrubbed.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, Corduroy. My brain was filled with clutter and everything just sort of happened. Did I do myself harm?”
The nurse did not respond right away, but she did rest her broad paw upon Sundance’s neck. She worked out a few tangles in his mane with her paw-finger, gave his ear a good-natured flick, and then, after whole seconds had passed, she said, “No, I don’t think you did. I did a good job of patching you up. You healed faster than I thought you would. I’m getting better at stitch-magic. Or maybe it’s the new and improved formula body spackle. It’s time for you to rebuild and recondition those muscles so they don’t atrophy. Short, brief flights. No long distance. Maybe give it another week or so. Can you do that?”
“Sure,” he was quick to say, but he was also dismayed by what he’d heard.
“As for your leg, I’m going to have to keep an eye on that. We don’t want infections. Some of those lacerations were pretty deep. That owlcoon has some serious talons and I can’t imagine what it must have felt like letting that critter get a good grip on you. How’d you do it?”
Sundance shrugged—and felt his back blaze in agony.
“It should be fine,” Corduroy said. “Thick, dense fur and what feathers it had saved it from serious harm. You know, I wonder sometimes, why is it that griffons can talk, but owlbears, owlcoons, and owlcats do not. I mean, you mix an eagle and a lion, and you get a talking griffon. So why not a talking owl mixed with a racoon? What makes some creatures sapient, and others not? Like deer. Most deer are dumb animals. But there are deer in the Everfree and other places that talk. I’ve met a talking mouse… Mister Teapot introduced me. That mouse was smart. Was a geologist. He worked with Professor Maud Pie.”
Sundance found himself at a loss for words.
“I’m a talking dog. You… you’re a talking bird-horse—”
“Hey!”
“Well, you are.” Corduroy’s broad paw stroked Sundance’s neck.
Now sullen, Sundance made his best annoyed bird-horse face at his talking dog companion.
“Without all the distractions of modern life, I’ve been more meditative. More philosophical. I keep thinking about stuff that I’ve never given much thought to before. From the sounds of things, you have too… which pushed you into the sky today so you could sort your head out. I find it satisfying to dig holes. Why can’t I stop thinking about the nature of things?”
“I had my own funny thought this morning, when I was pinching a loaf—”
“Oh, gross!” Then, after a disgusted growl, she asked, “What was it?”
“Well, I was thinking about the radio, and I started to wonder, what if the radio makes ponies stupid?”
“Wait”—Corduroy held up her paw—“how would the radio make ponies stupid?”
Sundance leaned into Corduroy’s touch while trying to gather his thoughts. This was a complex mess of thoughts, and he hadn't had the time to put everything into words. Corduroy’s arm slipped over his withers and when she pulled him close, he didn’t resist. It felt nice, it felt good to be near her, to be in close contact with her. He’d never quite had a friend like her, the sort of friend that he didn’t mind if his space was invaded.
“Some ponies are lazy, Corduroy.” It wasn’t his best start, but it worked, he felt. “Listening to the radio is easy. It’s easy to listen to the radio and hear all the facts and opinions… and then you can repeat them and sound smart. Reading takes time, it takes effort, and after you read you have to digest everything and make sense of it. You have to form your own opinion with what you’ve been given. But with radio, you get all of the smart without all of the effort. Movies, too. I mean, I like movies, but I always feel disappointed by them. My mom says they’re all dumbed down to appeal to the lowest common denominator. She also says that movies rot your brain and make you retarded—even though she occasionally watches movies. My mom is a tough pony to make sense of, at times.”
“Hold up.” Corduroy’s face scrunched into a wizened mess of wrinkles. “Are you saying that radio and movies will make us stop reading books? If we stop reading… what happens to our vocabulary? Our ability to converse? Are you suggesting that we’ll just repeat whatever we hear on the radio and from movies? Do you think we’ll turn stupid? Will language be dumbed down for mass public consumption?”
“It’s just something that popped into my head and I started to worry about it. You’re smarter than I am, by far, and now you’ve just greatly expanded everything I can worry about.”
“Well, now I’m worrying about it. That seems plausible.”
“I mean, what if Amber Dawn and her brother, Lemongrass, stop reading books or no longer have books read to them, and they just sit there and listen to the radio? I mean, if the radio has story hour, that’s one thing—that’s good. Authors have a sacred duty to introduce new words. I read that in a book once, back when I tried my hoof at being a writer. It behooves a writer to slip in complex, complicated words now and then. But story hour is story hour, and it only lasts for about an hour, and then there’s all the other stuff on the radio. The adventure plays and radio serials are fun… but also pretty dumb, if you pay attention.”
“You’re right,” said Corduroy.
“But that’s also true of books, too. For every Daring Do novel there are plenty of cheap pulp fictions that are absolutely terrible. Do you think the quality of literature has gone down hill with cheap, modern mass-production? I mean, it used to be that getting a book printed and bound was expensive. So only really good books were made, because of reasons of cost. Now, we have cheap pulpy paperbacks that are practically disposable. Anything can be printed. Has this been a help or hindrance?”
“I don’t know.” Corduroy pulled Sundance a little closer, and gave him an affectionate squeeze. “This is a side of you that I did not expect. You’re a thinker, Sundance.”
“I’m not all that bright, but I do try to work with what I have,” he replied.
“Well, you’ve successfully made me paranoid of mass-media. Nice work. Excellent job.”
“I do my best,” he said to his nurse, allowing himself a rare moment of gentle sarcasm.