Sweet Apple Acres – Early afternoon
When Applejack figured she spent enough time playing with literal fire for the day, she headed toward the Castle of Friendship to see if Twilight required her assistance with her life infusion project. So she set off down the path through the orchard, slowing her steps as she neared the road. For the first time in years, she found herself reluctant to be around the townsponies – or more specifically, to be seen by them.
She squared her shoulders, noting the strange sensation of her wings shifting as she did so. The other ponies would get used to it eventually, and they would see that she was the same on the inside. Besides, most ponies didn't treat Twilight that differently after she became an alicorn. How much different would it be for Applejack?
She trotted down the hard dirt road toward the castle, passing other ponies who began whispering to each other. Some of them nodded politely or waved at her, but none of them bowed. This was good, in AJ's view. Twilight had already told ponies they didn't have to bow to her, and now they knew not to bow to Applejack.
As she passed Davenport's Quills and Sofas store, Mayor Mare stepped out and waved to her.
“Why, Miss Applejack! I was hoping to run into you!”
Applejack touched the brim of her hat as the Mayor trotted toward her.
“Howdy, Madame Mayor. Anythin' I can help you with?”
“Oh, nothing in particular. I just want to congratulate you on your new station!” The older pony extended her hoof, prompting Applejack to do likewise and meet her with a hoofshake.
“Thank you kindly,” said AJ, “but I want you to know that nothing's changin' right away. I'm still gonna help look after the farm and my little sister.”
“Of course, I wouldn't expect you to leave the farm any time soon. We both know how important Sweet Apple Acres is for the local food supply as well as the economy.”
“Exactly!” Applejack smiled with relief. “I'm glad you understand.”
“Indeed! Still, it is a momentous occasion, especially with you being the first earth pony to become an alicorn, and the first Ponyville citizen, too!”
Applejack blinked. “Thank you, but hasn't Twilight lived here long enough to be considered a Ponyville citizen?”
“Oh, I suppose so, but you were born here! I should know – I keep all the records in Town Hall. For these reasons, I was somewhat perplexed when I received this invitation for your coronation party.” The mayor reached into the bag she was carrying and pulled out a card decorated with apples and glitter. “You see, I had hoped that I would be involved with such an important ceremony. I could understand why I didn't have a role in Twilight Sparkle's coronation, but I hoped that I could be a part yours.”
Applejack held up her foreleg. “Beg pardon, Madame Mayor, lemme stop you right there. It's not a coronation party. See?” She pointed to the card.
“Oh!” The mayor squinted at the page. “Now that you point it out, I see where it might have said 'not a,' but the glitter is covering that part.”
“What?” Applejack examined the letters, and sure enough, they read, “You are cordially invited to Applejack's (glitter blob) Coronation Party.”
Applejack stomped her hoof. “Dagnabbit! I s'pose it's too late to get these redone and sent out. The party's in four days.”
“So it's not a coronation party?” asked the mayor with a wrinkled brow. “Then what kind of party is it? And why would you draw attention to the coronation if that isn't what it's for?”
“I don't know, it was Pinkie's idea. She planned the whole thing and suggested the name and I said, 'Sure, why not?' It was only supposed to be a get-together for the townsfolk and my family members that haven't seen me since I got these wings and horn.” Applejack flared her wings for emphasis.
“I see.” The mayor tilted her head as if she still didn't quite see, after all. “So, when is your coronation ceremony, then?”
“Heck if I know! Maybe four days from now. Do you reckon folks'll be disappointed if I'm not coronated?”
The mayor rubbed her chin, giving this question serious consideration. “Some of them will be, certainly, but I think just as many ponies will understand your predicament.”
“I need to go talk to Pinkie. It was nice chattin' with you, Madame Mayor.” Applejack brought her hoof to the brim of her hat before dashing away.
“And you as well,” said the mayor. Then she shouted, “If you decide to go through with the coronation, may I bring your crown to you?”
But Applejack didn't hear her. She changed course for Sugar Cube Corner and was in sight of it when a rainbow blur swooped down in front of her path. Applejack slammed all four hooves into the ground and instinctively flared her wings to slow to a stop, inches away from Rainbow as she landed on the road.
“Nice reflexes, AJ!” praised Dash. “You flared your wings to add wind resistance to slow yourself down and everything!” She playfully punched her shoulder. “I'll make a weather pony out of you yet.”
“Land sakes, Dash!” Applejack steadied herself and folded her wings. “I know you're keen on teachin' me how to be a pegasus, and I appreciate that, but right now I gotta find Pinkie. Have you seen the invitations?”
“Sure, what about them?” asked Rainbow with a shrug.
“There's glitter coverin' up where it says 'not a coronation'!”
“Oh, well . . .” Dash looked up in thought. “Are you sure they're all like that? How many did you see?”
“Just the one the mayor got!” AJ shook her head. “We need to find out if all the invitations got messed up.”
“On it!” Shielding her eyes with her hooves, Rainbow sought another creature to ask before settling on Cranky and Matilda, who were seated at a table outside a cafe. “Yo, Cranky!”
The donkey glowered at her. “What do you want?”
Dash soared over and landed next to the table. “Do you have your invitation for Applejack's party?”
“No.”
“I do!” said Matilda, setting her card on the table.
Cranky raised his eyebrow. “Why did you bring that?”
“Because I wanted to ask you what you think this part at the bottom means,” she explained.
Leaning over the card, Cranky read, “Long live the princesses? I think there's another word, but there's glitter over it.”
Applejack cantered over and peered at the invitation. “That part got covered too? It's supposed to say 'Long live the non-princesses.'”
“And what does that mean?” asked Cranky.
AJ sighed. “It means Twilight and I are gonna give life force to anypony – or donkey – who wants it at the party. And we're gonna give Thauma Houses to all the earth pony guests. It's gonna be the best party favor ever!” She raised her hoof with the bottom facing the sky.
“It's still gonna be the best party favor ever,” Rainbow reassured her. “It's just really unclear on the invitation,” she added, waving her foreleg at the card.
“It sounds like it was already unclear even before it got covered in glitter,” grumbled Cranky. “In fact, I'm still not sure what you two are goin' on about.”
“I really should've checked Pinkie's invitations carefully before I gave the go-ahead.” Applejack stared ruefully at the card.
“Well, it sounds like a party we won't want to miss!” said Matilda with a conciliatory smile. “You'll get a crown, Applejack, and I'll get to have more time with my Doodle.” She placed her front hoof over her husband's.
Applejack closed her eyes and brought her hoof to her forehead. “You know it's not a coronation party, right?”
Matilda squinted at her invitation before widening her eyes. “Ohhh. You didn't happen to have these printed at the post office, did you?”
“I don't know.” AJ scratched her head. “Pinkie handled all that. Do they do glitter?”
“I'm not sure, but that's where Doodle went to get our wedding invitations printed, and they printed the wrong date. It was supposed to be a day later. So then we had to scramble to get everything ready in time for all the guests to show up,” elaborated Matilda.
“You're never going to let me forget that, are you,” muttered Cranky.
“How could I?” said Matilda, with an amused smile. “But I'm at the point where I can look back at it and laugh.”
“I'm still not laughin'.” Cranky slouched in his seat.
“Why didn't you just tell everypony to come back tomorrow?” Dash held up her hooves with the bottoms up.
“Some of our guests were from out of town, and they planned their trips around our wedding,” said Matilda. “Guests like Princess Celestia and Princess Luna,” she added pointedly. “We couldn't tell the princesses to come back later because there was a misprint on our invitations!”
“And yet,” said Rainbow, her eyes half-lidded, “you guys shut the door on another princess.”
Matilda winced. “Sorry about that.”
“I'm not,” said Cranky. “I told the mail mare to shut the door right at two o' clock. If you couldn't make it by then, that's your problem.”
“At least we still made it to the reception,” said AJ, in attempt to smooth things over. “And to be honest, Twilight took it pretty well.”
Matilda nodded. “Yes, I thought so too.”
“So, what do you think I should do about my party?” asked Applejack, raising her foreleg.
“Just to be clear, it's not a coronation party?” asked Cranky.
“No.” She shook her head.
“Then it's not important if we have other plans,” he concluded.
Matilda kicked him under the table. “But we don't have other plans, do we.”
“What plans could be more important than the chance to add years to your lives?” asked Dash.
“Not everyone wants to live forever, especially when you're already over the hill,” Cranky adjusted his wig, a wistful expression on his face. “Not unless you ponies have figured out a way to reverse aging.
Applejack cringed. “I'm afraid not. To tell you the truth, I think Granny Smith feels the same way. She doesn't talk about it that much, but I can sense that she's tired.”
Matilda softened as she took her husband's hoof in her own. “We're not that old yet. And no one's saying you have to get the life infusion treatment at the party. You can get it later, or never, if that's what you want.” Then she held her free hoof to her chest. “But I for one am going to stick around as long as possible.”
The two ponies said goodbye to the pair of donkeys shortly after that, realizing they were getting no closer to deciding what to do about the celebration.
“I ought to at least tell Pinkie,” said AJ, as they walked away from the cafe, toward the middle of the street. “She's the one puttin' her heart and soul into plannin' this shindig. I mainly just helped with the guest list.”
“Yeah, but it's your life,” said Dash. “You're the one who's gotta decide whether you want to be a princess. Although, I gotta ask, what is it about being a princess that you don't like? Is it the responsibility? The attention? The . . .” She paused, trying to think of a way to describe what she wanted to say.
“Frou-frou-ness?” suggested Applejack.
“Yeah. Is that what your hang up is, then?”
The new alicorn sighed. “I s'pose it's all three. Maybe I could handle the extra responsibility if it's doled out a little at a time, but I learned my lesson about overdoin' my workload. I don't wanna backslide.”
“Who says you'll backslide? Princesses always get ponies to help them! I mean, that's been Princess Celestia's method since the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville! And I'm talking about before Nightmare Moon returned. Princess Celestia didn't do everything herself. She chose you to be in charge of the catering for the festival, and me to be in charge of making the weather perfect!” Rainbow held her hoof to her chest and closed her eyes as if gazing inward. “I think she recognized greatness when she saw it.” Then she opened her eyes and, with a grin, threw her foreleg around her friend and gave her a squeeze.
Applejack smiled and pressed her cheek against Dash's – something she hadn't done in a very long time – probably during one of the celebratory moments they had shared after defeating some villain or another.
“Is bein' supportive tied to bein' the Element o' Loyalty? 'Cause you're real good at it, sugar cube.”
“Could be. I'll always be here to help you, and so will the rest of our friends.”
Applejack still had other concerns about becoming royalty, but she didn't want to spoil the moment. Her worries could wait.
The mood was somewhat ruined when Applejack noticed Cranky, Matilda, and a few ponies staring at her hugging and nuzzling her friend.
Her face turned red as she pulled away from Rainbow. “Well now, I'd best head on into Sugar Cube Corner to talk to Pinkie.”
“I'll go with you,” said Dash. “I've been meaning to talk to her about this princess stuff too.” She glanced at the confectionery building. “You know, we could fly over there.”
Applejack pointed. “Halfway across the street? It's easier just to walk.”
“For you, maybe.” Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Alright, I'll let you off this time, missy.” She jabbed her hoof into her friend's chest. “But there's no way you're getting out of a flying lesson today.”
Castle of Friendship
Spike and I stared at Maud's new reader in fascination, while Rarity's face showed more anxiety. She used her shining aura to raise her book over the lower half of her face, like a miniature shield.
If anything, the longevity gauge appeared more mundane than the vitameter. In fact, it bore more than a little resemblance to some of the pressure gauges I'd seen – a metal wand with a needled dial on one end. On closer inspection, however, I realized that the dial's face had aquamarines to mark the measurements, exactly like the vitameter.
“Unlike the vitameter, you don't have to use earth magic to use a longevity gauge,” stated Maud. “Anypony – or dragon – can use it. But as per usual, the earth pony professors at the Manehattan College of Earth Studies think that they should be the only ponies who know when anyone will die,” she added ominously.
“Is there no other place in Equestria where you could procure this instrument?” Rarity set the book down in her consternation.
I had to admire Rarity. Only the Element of Generosity would feel righteous indignation about stealing from ponies who believed that she didn't deserve their secret knowledge simply because she had a horn instead of earth magic. My jaw clenched at the thought.
“You can get them in shops in Manehattan if you know where to look,” replied Maud, “but most of the vitameters and longevity gauges they sell are cheap pieces of junk that die after a few uses, which is ironic because they measure life force and lifespan.”
Spike crossed his arms. “Yeah, we get it, Maud. So, you said anydragon could use it?”
“Sure. You see, the aquamarines are infused with earth magic that bonds them to life forms and detects the potential, or stored, energy in all beings. All the spellwork has already been done, so if you tried to use magic on it, you would actually damage it.”
Spike shot a questioning glance in my direction. “Can I?”
“Of course. I'm just glad you're so interested in this,” I said with a nod.
“All you have to do is touch the dial to the subject and let the magic aquamarines do their work.” Maud pressed the dial into Spike's outstretched hand. All of the crystals glowed as the needle shot over to 1910.
Spike peered down at the tiny numbers on the dial in his hand. “So it's designed for dragons? Unless you're saying earth ponies live this long, too.”
“Most of us don't live that long. We need to use our magic to stay alive once we get past a century, and earth magic is tricky to control. There are some individuals who have lived over a thousand, like Chancellor Puddinghead, but those are outliers.”
Rarity tilted her head. “Do you mean to tell me that Granny Smith could have met Chancellor Puddinghead when she was a filly?”
“Sure. How do you think Chancellor Puddinghead had time to write so many cookbooks?”
I frowned. “Maud, you said not very many ponies have access to good vitameters. Applejack and Granny Smith made it sound like farmers have more control over life infusion, but do you think any earth pony could learn to control it if they had a vitameter?”
“I believe so, with enough practice,” answered Maud. “And life infusion gives you plenty of time to practice.”
Hearing this made me angrier. I didn't understand how these earth pony professors could seclude themselves inside their university and hoard knowledge for centuries while the ponies in their community died.
“Twilight, darling? Are you alright?” asked Rarity.
I took a deep breath, holding my hoof to my chest and feeling it expand and contract. Research now, rant later.
“I'm fine. It's fine. So, I'll measure my own longevity next. Will it hurt the instrument if I grab it with my telekinesis?” I asked Maud.
“Not as long as you hold it by the wand. If your magic touches the dial, it could disrupt the spells on the aquamarines,” she explained.
With a nervous chuckle, I gripped only the wand with my aura. “It's a good thing I asked.”
I touched the dial to my foreleg. Then I frowned, pulled the dial away, and touched it again. The needle moved to 450 both times.
“Well . . . That's good.” I pursed my lips. “But I kind of thought my reading would be higher than that, since I drew life force from the Castle of Friendship.”
Spike, too, seemed disappointed. “Uh, Maud, are you sure Twilight's magic didn't mess with the reading?”
Maud nodded. “I'm sure. Twilight, you haven't been using life infusion very long, have you?”
I shook my head. “It's been less than a week.” I tapped my chin in thought. “And I did infuse my life force into other ponies yesterday.”
“Well, now you can keep track of your input and output so you can build up your reserve.”
Anxiety reared its ugly head. “Don't you have to give this back?” I swiveled the meter in my thaumic grasp. “How long until the College of Earth Studies notices their readers are missing?”
Maud shrugged. “I don't know. And frankly, I don't care. You can keep those for as long as you want. If the deans ask about them, I can tell them I took the instruments to my family's rock farm and they got crushed under a two-ton boulder.”
Rarity made a choking noise.
“Come on, Rarity,” said Spike. “I know you're the Element of Generosity, but those ponies sound like the worst.”
“So we should only be nice to ponies who are nice to us, is that it?” Rarity asked indignantly. “Is that what we learned from all those friendship lessons?”
Maud held up her hoof. “In my defense, I haven't learned very many friendship lessons.”
My ears lay against my skull. “You're right, Rarity. Of course you are. But I really want to keep these meters. There doesn't seem to be an easy way to get meters of this quality, and I need them for my life infusion project.” I turned to face Maud. “If you tell your school that you broke them and they want you to pay for them, tell me the price and I'll give you the money to give to them. How does that sound?”
“Works for me.”
The rest of us looked to Rarity, who sighed. “I think it's dishonest, but you'll have to take that up with Applejack. And I do hope you'll give the devices back eventually. But it does make me feel better that you're paying the school for them,” she finished with a nod.
I smiled. “Well, now that that's settled, would you like to measure your lifespan next?”
Rarity chewed her lip. “Oh, I don't know. I've been dreading this moment, but I suppose I should do it if I'm going to undergo this life infusion treatment.” She stood, straightening her posture. “Very well.” Rarity took the meter from my magic and held the dial to her coat. The needle crept to 103.
My friend smiled. “It must be all those rejuvenating visits to the spa! I always did say it works wonders.” She held out the meter. “Maud? What about you?”
“Sure, why not?” said Maud with a shrug.
When Maud touched the dial to her foreleg, the needle moved to 658. “That's about what I expected,” she said. “And just for kicks, I'll show you what happens when I measure Boulder.” She touched the dial to the rock, and the needle shot over to 3000 – the highest number on the meter. “This gauge wasn't made for rocks. You'd need a bigger and even more rare meter for that, and I didn't think you would need that, yet.”
“No, this is fine for now, although I hope to eventually get ponies and other creatures above 3000,” I said.
Maud stared unblinking at me – I detected the barest flicker of emotion, but I couldn't quite identify it. Fear, perhaps?
“Would you now,” she said, piercing me with her eyes.
“Of course! I want everypony to stay healthy for as long as possible, and never have to say goodbye to their loved ones. That's the true purpose of my life infusion project.”
“Really. And have you considered the long term consequences of making everycreature immortal?” asked Maud.
“Yes, of course I have.” I paused for a moment before admitting, “I mean, I've thought about it a little. But Princess Celestia and Luna are on board with this.”
“They are? Aren't they worried about overpopulation causing famine?”
I shook my head. “No, and Applejack doesn't think that will be a problem either. She says that ponies can make the growing seasons last as long as they need, and that crops produce more food and are more resistant to drought, disease, and pests than they used to be. And with magic, we can keep the food we do have from ever spoiling.”
“I see. But there's another problem to overcome. Have you considered how much energy it will take to keep everycreature alive in perpetuity? And do you know where this energy will come from?”
“The earth,” I replied.
“Yes, the earth has an incredible amount of energy in its core, but it is finite. The geological experts have estimated that it will last for millions of years, but eventually it will run out. And when that happens, earth ponies would have very little life force left to work with. We would age much faster. The core also generates a magnetic field around the planet, which we are just beginning to understand. One theory is that the magnetic field protects the atmosphere from solar wind, and that without it, the solar wind would tear away the upper part of the atmosphere. This would have a disastrous impact on climate control and life on Equus as we know it.”
Spike raised his hand. “And compasses wouldn't work.”
“Yes, Spike, compasses wouldn't work,” I said, struggling not to sound patronizing.
“But Maud, you said that won't happen for millions of years. Surely the intelligent creatures of the world will have plenty of time to figure out a way to prevent that from happening,” said Rarity with a frown.
“Perhaps,” said Maud. “But a sudden increase of life infusion could make the core unstable and hasten its demise.”
“You talk about the core like it's alive,” said Spike, tilting his head back.
“It is as alive as you and I – more alive, because it contains far more life force. It is made of molten iron that constantly swirls and generates energy,” said Maud.
“Further study will be required,” I told her. “I certainly don't want to destabilize the planet's core. But it's not like I'm tapping directly into it.” I lightly knocked my hoof on the floor. “I thought only Pinkie could do that.”
“Even drawing life force from the crust uses indirect life force from the core,” explained Maud. “If life force is taken from the crust, more life force from the core will rise to take its place.”
“Oh.” I realized that I should be taking notes again and picked up my notebook and quill in my magic.
“I still think there has to be a way to take enough energy from the earth to make everycreature immortal – or close enough to it – without causing irreparable harm to the earth's core,” I told Maud while scribbling a distracted paraphrasing of Maud's lecture.
“You'll magically find a way,” she deadpanned. “You can solve any problem with magic.”
Spike scratched the back of his head. “Was that sarcasm?”
“No.” She paused. “That was sarcasm. I mean, yes.”
“Well, Maud, I understand your concerns, but for now I'd just like to measure the rest of my friends' lifespans. Let's go see Fluttershy.” I pointed to the longevity gauge in her hoof. “May I?”
“Sure. It's fine. This is fine.”