Ravenous beyond words, and hungry for junk food, Sundance feared that his table manners might be inadequate. Twilight was tucking the sleepy filly into her crib and Sundance was somewhat sad to have the tiny tot taken away from him. Miss Strudel—also known as Toaster Strudel—joined them for lunch at Twilight’s insistence. Since he would be working with her in the near future, Sundance looked forward to getting to know the consummate professional that he shared much in common with.
Young and inexperienced though he was, Sundance knew that something big was happening, some great momentous thing that he could hardly comprehend. It was like the time a newspaper reporter discovered that the newly-elected mayor of Baltimare was cheating on his wife with his long-time secretary. A week later, the mayor resigned in shame after many cries demanding his resignation. About a month after that, the disgraced mayor took his own life as further investigations revealed even more crooked wrongdoings.
This was somehow bigger than that. Though his own role in this seemed insignificant, he was about to do something historic with Twilight Sparkle, who had some grand, brilliant plan, some way to save Equestria before what was sure to be its inevitable collapse. He was content to have some small role in all of this, whatever this was, and Twilight could have all the glory as the architect. Sundance’s aims were far, far more simple: he wanted his grandmother to be happy with him.
Of course, Equestria fell down rather regularly. There was the whole incident with Mister Mariner that happened when Sundance was young. The stock market took a bit of a tumble not all that long after, and while Sundance was too young to truly understand what was going on, most of the adults around him believed that the end was near. That end, such as it was, was somehow narrowly avoided—but it was a reminder of what could happen, one of the many things that might happen. Money was a real danger to all. Of course, Sundance, as poverty-stricken as he was, didn’t worry about it too much, because there was so little to lose. But his mother sure worried.
“No”—Twilight’s head turned from side to side in a manner that utterly failed to convey authority—“no, you’re not allowed to cry or be fussy. Mommy is working. Now hush up and go to sleep, you adorable little fussnoodle. No… don’t you do it. I know you want to sleep. You eat and then you go into a coma, because that is what you do. Don’t disappoint me. No… no… no—oh, there she goes. Whew.”
“Is she asleep?” asked Miss Strudel.
To which Twilight replied, “Out like a light. Now I can eat!”
And eat she did. Much to Sundance’s shock, awe, and surprise, Twilight Sparkle ate. Without saying a word, she shrunk a huge hayburger down into a barely-bitesize morsel, popped it into her mouth, gave it a few rough chews, and then swallowed. Just watching this left Sundance feeling rather inadequate. A mere fraction of a second later, this process was repeated, and another hayburger vanished into Twilight’s ravenous maw. Alicorns were not natural creatures, he decided while he watched a third hayburger get gobbled.
Somehow, he knew. He knew. He knew and it terrified him that he knew. The shrunken hayburgers had all of their nutritional value and calories. They were the same as the large hayburgers, but smaller, and easier to eat. Twilight could just as well shrink them down to the size of a grain of sand and then swallow them, but Sundance supposed that she wanted some minimal enjoyment of her food, at least. She settled into a routine rhythm that made hayburgers vanish every few seconds, just like clockwork.
In stunned silence, Sundance took a dainty, polite bite of his hayburger.
It was salty, greasy bliss. Everything he missed from living in the city. Because of Miss Strudel’s magic, it was both piping hot and fresh, as if it had been just prepared. Nothing about it was soggy or gross—somehow even the greens survived intact. What curious magic was this? The batter that formed the hay pattie was particularly crispy, chewy, and flavourful. His second bite was not nearly so polite as his ravenous desire overcame him.
The sheer pleasure on Twilight’s face was almost dangerously erotic—which was quite a feat really, given how her face was withered from necromantic magics. Sundance tried to think of his mother, but the mental image of her authoritative sneer caused him to shiver. His father wasn’t much help either, because the mental image of his father hurried away from the troubled situation and went into hiding. As a last ditch resort, he thought of his grandmother—but all she did was laugh and that was no help at all.
Watching another pony eat could very well turn into yet another fetish, and Sundance just didn’t need that sort of complication when he was still trying to sort himself out. He thought of his school-age self and wondered how the younger, immature version of himself might react to this situation. Little Sundance was smaller, had stubby wings, legs that were too long for his body, and a snoot that was way too big for his face. Now, he’d grown into his snoot and the stilts he called legs and—what was he thinking about again?
Confused, Sundance took a huge bite of his hayburger and gave it a thoughtful chew.
After swallowing, Twilight paused for a moment, patted her barrel with her right front hoof, and it was obvious to any observer that she stifled a belch. With that done and out of the way, she said, “When I woke up this morning, I was so certain of how this would go. I had my pitch practiced. All the right words were ready and waiting to be said. There was a plan ready to be followed. But so much has changed already. Now I am unsure of what to say or how to even start, because the subject is so immense. And as always, there is that little niggle of doubt that never seems to go away.”
She sighed.
“If I can’t make a plan that can survive till lunch, then what chance does my plan for Equestria have?” Eyes downcast, Twilight lowered her right hoof down to the table. “So many variables. I used to be so confident in my ability to plan. When I was younger, there were times when I found myself wondering why Celestia didn’t just plan better, and it is only now that I find myself in her position”—her words trailed off for a moment and her ears fell limp—“now I find myself wondering if there is some young version of me that asks why don’t I plan better. It’s humbling.”
With a sigh, her head turned and she gazed down into the crib. Sundance saw her face contort for a moment, some overwhelming emotion, though he knew not what it was, or even what it might be. Something painful though, from the looks of it. It was a vulnerable moment though, one that showed that Twilight, for all of her strangeness, was still equine in nature.
“This is where parenthood backfires,” Twilight murmured. “If I fail, if this plan goes horribly awry, she’s the one who will suffer for it. She will live in the future made from my mistakes.” For a time, Twilight’s eyes were sad, but with a single blink, they turned hard and flinty. “Buck up, Twilight.”
As tiny fires ignited in Twilight’s eyes, she shrank a taco down into a bite-sized morsel, which she then flicked into her mouth. There was a crunch, another crunch, and then soft, susurrus chewing. Sundance could feel the pressure building—not gas, which was always a concern as a pegasus, but the weight of the situation began to bear down upon him. Twilight was not Celestia, but something about this was reassuring for Sundance. Whatever trouble that might come from this, they would face it together.
Without realising it, Sundance had already committed himself to Twilight’s plan, whatever it might be. Celestia was aloof, but Twilight was relatable, and her sense of emotion appealing. He found himself quite moved by her reactions and the fact that she did nothing to hide it. Distracted, he nipped at his food and savoured the greasy goodness.
“The both of you know what our coastal cities are like. They are nothing like central Equestria… which is almost like travelling back in time.” Wearing a stern expression, she lifted up a second taco, shrank it, and then spent a few seconds examining it. “Both of you have awareness that I lack.” She then tossed the tiny taco into her mouth and began to chew.
After she swallowed, she said, “I had such an eloquent speech prepared. Rousing and soul-stirring. Such a waste of time.” A quick inhale acted as a pause. “ Sundance, you recently turned your barony into a corporation. Were I to hazard a guess, would your plan be to share your profits with your subjects?”
Mouth full, he nodded.
“And how would you feel if I asked you to not do that?”
At the worst possible moment, Sundance’s brain went utterly and completely blank. Was he scared? He might be. Just what was Twilight asking? What was she about to ask? Surely Twilight wanted his peasants to prosper, so why would she ask him to keep them poor? Everything was now topsy-turvy; up was down, down was left, left was up, and nothing was right. These were unknown skies to him, with only Twilight as his guide.
“When Celestia appointed me to this position, I wanted to do away with money altogether. I was pretty stupid back then. Too confident and secure in my own intelligence.” Her eyes rolled as her ears twitched. “It pains me to say it, but we need money. At least for now. Until something better comes along. Which I am not wholly convinced that it will. My speech had a much better segue into all of this.”
A cold trickle of sweat dripped down the back of Sundance’s neck, and flowed into the groove of one of his scars. The fact that Twilight was nervous made him nervous too, but her determination in the face of such uncertainty was admirable. He watched as another hayburger was consumed and he took a bite of his own, which was almost gone.
“I want your barony to remain cashless,” she said plainly. “But not poverty stricken. My plan hinges on everypony being well-provided for and having a high quality of life, with every conceivable need met. Sundance, I need your barony to be a paradise of sorts, a place of promise.
“No doubt, you are wondering why. Well, I’ll get around to that. For now, let’s talk about life in Equestria’s major coastal cities. Wages are stagnant, for the most part. Rent is out of control. Poverty is increasing, in spite of our best efforts. And the worst part of all, there is very little in the way of alternatives. Because there are so few options, landlords and employers have no motivation to make the situation better. Which means that things will only get worse.”
“Yeah.” Sundance’s response was simple, perfunctory, and all he could think of to say.
“So… what if there were an alternative?” asked Twilight. She leaned forward, her eyes bright, eager, and her ears rose tall over her face. “Alternatives are greatly needed. Not every pony is suited for the rat race. Our world is rapidly progressing. There are ponies whose marks offer them no future. There are marks whose career options are now swept away by progress. What future do they have? And that… I see that as the problem.
“A pony has no choice but to try and make things work in order to survive. They become trapped in a cycle of perpetual poverty. Enough money is made to barely pay rent, but nothing else. This is not living.” She pressed her front hooves together. “That’s not even survival. That’s being a resource. A lump of coal to power some incomprehensible machine. And that… that needs to stop. I’ll not have my ponies treated as mere resources.”
“So how can I and my barony help?” Unaware of his own actions, Sundance licked his lips clean and then he too leaned over the table to look Twilight in the eye.
“We offer an alternative,” Twilight replied. “A place to go. A choice. A different lifestyle.” She drew in a deep breath, held it for a short time, and then continued. “A place to go where every need is met and there is a life to be lived. Now, this will not suit everypony. But it will give many the means to escape. More importantly though, this changes the dynamic. It changes how the system works.
“If ponies begin to leave the cities in droves in search of a better life, factories will go empty. There will be a shortage of workers. Apartments will also empty, and landlords will receive no rent. If factories want workers, and landlords want tenants, they will have no choice but to make things appealing. Wages will have to rise to lure ponies back into the cities. Housing will have to be affordable. With an alternative available, there will be no more take it or leave it. I’d like to introduce a bit of competition into the market.”
Astonished, Sundance found himself at a lack for words.
“The cities are where we have most of our advancements. Financial competition breeds creativity and innovation. There is something to be said for the crunch, and there are ponies who thrive under these conditions. I say, we’ll leave the cities to them. For those not suited to this sort of life, there will be a means of escape. A way out. They’ll no longer be forced to be cogs in the machine.”
“Will this work?” asked Sundance, still astonished by all he heard.
“No idea,” Twilight was quick to reply. “I have no clue if this will work. Which is why it is a gamble. Central Equestria has a lot of available space… and you… you have the most available space of all the Clock Face Fiefdoms. Not only do you have one of the largest tracts of land, but there is almost no development. It’s all wilderness or ruin. It is my belief that, working together, the Clock Face Fiefdoms can provide a worthwhile life for those who decide the rat race just isn’t their thing.”
This was beyond him, but he carefully considered Twilight’s words.
“An Equestria in two parts,” the pensive alicorn said whilst she tapped her front hooves together. “One part is commercially and industrially driven. A place of innovation and enterprise. For those most suited to that sort of life, it will be made available to them. The other part is for those who would otherwise be ground to grease in the gears. As rulers, Sundance, we owe them an existence. But to provide, we need ways and means. Resources. And probably money. The irony does not escape me.”
Baffled, Sundance glanced over at Miss Strudel, then returned his gaze to Twilight. How was he to provide for so many? Surely the cities would empty. He would be overrun. It occurred to him after some thought that Twilight surely had a plan—perhaps some means to slow the flood to a trickle. The invisible circlet of rule that rested upon his brow had never been heavier or felt more real and solid than it did right now. His barony was not a city. Why, he didn’t even have township status, which he had applied for.
“Sundance… you need to turn your barony into a financial colossus. I think that, in the long run, becoming a corporate entity was a smart move. I’ll do everything in my power to help you. You’ll be tax-exempt—”
“Taxes?” he blurted out.
“Oh, Celestia was going to give you some time to get on your hooves, but make no mistake, she had plans to levy taxes against you. Just a little bit more pressure to get you to perform. For me, taxation feels like a bad idea, if your business is ensuring Equestria’s continued existence. Every bit that is taken as taxes isn’t poured back into your barony and its residents. So I will guarantee tax-exemption status, so long as you work with me and assist me with my goals.”
“I am no tycoon”—his head turned from side to side—“and have no head for money. No knowledge of… what… whatever it is that I am supposed to do to make money. How do you propose that I turn myself into a… a… a—”
“A financial colossus?” Wearing her best deadpan expression, Twilight rested her hooves upon the table. “You have friends, don’t you? Ask them for help. Find a way, Sundance. You have resources. Find something that your barony does well. Perhaps something that your barony does uniquely well. Something distinctive. Exploit that.”
“This seems impossible.”
“Beating Nightmare Moon also seemed impossible, but my friends and I managed.”
“I think I’d rather pick a fight with Nightmare Moon… it somehow seems easier than what you’re asking me to do.”
“Ah, but these acts share something in common,” Twilight said. “Saving Equestria.”
“There is no guarantee that this works.” Sundance found himself quite overwhelmed and he struggled to find some way out of this.
“And I could have failed to stop Nightmare Moon.” Her mouth split into a hard, unrelenting smile and Twilight lifted up a still-steaming hayburger. “You can tell me no. This is all about providing a choice for many—including you. If you want, you can say no and go home.”
“While the world falls down around me…”
The hayburger became small, bite-sized, and Twilight crammed it into her maw. Then she sat with her eyes locked on Sundance, and found himself at a loss for words. His choice would affect the choices of so many. It almost didn’t seem fair. Yet, here he was, having lunch with Twilight Sparkle, and it fell upon his withers to help decide the fate of millions. Just thinking about it caused him to feel faint, and his stomach lurched.
He rather felt like throwing up.
Across the table, Twilight wiped her mouth with her foreleg, not at all a princessly act, and she brought her princessly gaze to bear upon Sundance. She radiated majesty, but also mischievousness. He wondered what she saw in him, and he was curious about what potential she might see. She had called him here for a reason. If he was incapable as he believed, she wouldn’t have called him here, because that would be a waste of time. So it was easy to assume that she believed in him, even if he was uncertain of his own potential.
“I have been to other worlds,” she said in a low voice. “Seen other futures. I’ve watched how quite a number of societies have played out. Seen how most of them ended. Celestia is wary about using their history to shape our own, but I hold the belief that we can still learn something from their mistakes. She trusts me… finally… to utilise a little of what I’ve learned in my observations. If you think you’re feeling the pressure… just imagine what I’m feeling. Should everything go horribly awry, I have to admit that I was wrong and Celestia was right. Which I’ve done plenty of times already, and it never gets any easier. Of course, there’s been times when Celestia was wrong, and I was right… which I suppose is the reason why we’re equals now.”
He blinked. Yes, this was true. If they failed, they did so together. Her enigmatic words filled him with questions, but he had no idea how to inquire for answers. What might his mother say? His father? Oh, he could imagine what his mother might say. She had strong feelings about deadbeats, layabouts, and the dole. Officer Mom was a firm believer that welfare was social decay and would cause the collapse of civilisation. As for Sundance, he was no longer certain what he believed. All of the things that he was raised to believe in now seemed lacking.
“Do you really believe that this will bring down the cost of rent and raise wages?” he asked.
“I think that it might,” Twilight replied.
“What if everypony just decides they are done with the city and leaves?”
“Oh, I doubt that will happen. Pastoral life will appeal to some, but not all. Though it is my hope that, in time, you will have multiple cities within the boundaries of your barony.”
“I won’t live to see the end result of all of this, will I?”
“Probably not,” she replied. “But you get to lay down the foundation.”
“I don’t like doing something that I’ll never have the answers for. The results?” Unsure of what to say, or how to say it, he wished that he’d chosen his words with a bit more care. “I’ll be doing all of this work, all of this effort, and I won’t get a chance to see how this ends, or if we are successful.”
“A parent doesn’t always get a chance to see how their offspring’s life turns out, or how it ends. Such is life. At best, all you can do is prepare. A parent might not be around to see how their foals turn out. Life is doled out in tiny portions… well, for most. We’re stuck making the most of what we can with the time that we are given.”
“This all goes back to what you said about how becoming a parent changes you. Changes your perspectives.” Even as he spoke, he saw her nod. “How am I supposed to commit to something so much larger than I am?”
“That’s parenthood,” Twilight deadpanned. “It’s also rulership. Maybe even life in general. We commit to something that we’ll only have a small part in with the hopes that we leave a better world for those who come after us. I had some very misguided views… ideas? Look, everything I thought I knew about love, marriage, becoming a parent… everything I thought I knew, everything I believed in was just plain wrong. Life too. A lot of things. While one pony can make a difference, and I would never, ever discount that or diminish it in any way… it takes a team to wrangle up a better future. Be it a team of friends, or those you take as partners.”
“And right now, you’re asking me to make a lifetime commitment to you, so that we might change the future together.”
Twilight was slow to respond. “I suppose I am.”
“That’s a lot of pressure for two ponies who just met,” Miss Strudel remarked.
“A lifetime is a lot to ask of a pony.” Mid-sentence, Sundance felt his stomach do flip-flops. “I mean, I’m not saying no. My answer is yes, I’ll do this. But this is a lot to take in. It’s overwhelming. Just what am I supposed to do, exactly?”
“Well, to start, we finish lunch, and then we spend a little time getting to know each other.”