//------------------------------// // Chapter 41 // Story: Borrowed Time // by Gambit Prawn //------------------------------// I wore a sour countenance as I flailed in a current of frustration. I had thought I had finally figured it out after a strong session previously, but now I felt myself well on my way to taking a step back. I squinted as I continued my vain attempt to lift that stupid training sphere, while I pondered what I might be doing wrong. “That’s good for now,” Teaching Moment mercifully acknowledged. I let out a long sigh as my mind slowly started to recover. The stallion had an obnoxious habit of maintaining a poker face at all times. It was helpful in the sense that it kept me humble in the face of my successes, but him slithering by any acknowledgment of my struggles tended to irk me. “You’re getting there,” he repeated like a mantra. “Sure…” I muttered, making a beeline for the imposing wooden doors that promised freedom. We had commandeered a rather spacious luxury suite, usually reserved for foreign dignitaries, for my magic lessons. As a preemptive measure, everything I could accidentally break had been put into storage. “Before you go, can you hand me that decorative pillow? It must’ve been knocked off the bed due to the mana turbulence.” So that’s another way of saying my magic is still volatile. I wish he would just say it. “Okay,” I said, sizing up the purple and gold cushion and tossing it towards Teaching Moment in rhythm. “Have a good night,” I said weakly while pushing the door open. Only to stop suddenly. “Wait—” Relief and validation began to brew from within me. “Did I…” Teaching shot me a victorious smile. “You did it. Using levitation subconsciously is the truest marker of success!” I shook my head instinctively. “That was just a fluke! I couldn’t do it when I tried, so tricks aside, I’m still a beginner, right?” My teacher patted my head.  “You can wait for our next session, or you can just see for yourself!” Whatever thought I had started to have was interrupted by my subsequent realization. “You mean, I can do it on my own? Outside?” He simply smiled. “It’s what we’ve been working on all along. By embracing an efficient form of magic from basic principles, you’ve significantly lessened the risks associated with it rebounding on you,” he explained in a clinical fashion. “Oh, that’s nice…”  Internally I was torn between thanking him and accusing him of leading me on. In any event, his approach had worked.  I felt a mischievous impulse. I wanted nothing more to fling all sorts of things around the room, but doing so would easily have been the most childish thing I had done all day. In the middle of my deliberation, my teacher had wished me a good night and excused himself to go pick up a cake. After a bit of dawdling, I followed him out the door and ran straight into a little filly that I was pretty sure was littler than me last time we had met. “Oh hey, Cake. Didn’t expect to bump into you here.” Dang Equestria making me pun—you know what, that lame one is all on me… “Oh, good, you were here, River. What were you up to in there?” For some reason, my first instinct was to lie. “Magic lessons. There’s more room in there. Uh… I’m not very good; it’s kinda embarrassing. So, you were looking for me, right?” She nodded. “I wanted to thank you for letting me share your green activity for camp.” “That was nothing,” I quickly dismissed. “Not sure you’re gonna like ‘Variety Sports,’ but that’s fine.” She smiled softly. “No, it’s more than that. This whole time I was worried if ponies would like me. So, I—I couldn’t ask for things. Only friends can ask for favors is what I thought.” Upon reaching this pause, I hastily scoured my experience from both lives, but I came no closer to figuring out what I was supposed to say. Fortunately, I didn’t have to figure it out. “But what I didn’t understand is asking others for favors—asking for help, or… at least asking them to pay attention to you is one of the best ways to make friends. Everypony starts as acquaintances—except for Princess Twilight, I mean, but she’s the Princess of Friendship!” “I’m glad I could help you,” I said diplomatically while still allowing my positive sentiment to shine through. “I’m not sure I’d be a good best friend for you. Or anything like that.” Cake giggled. “No problem! I need to start collecting some acquaintances anyway; I can work on friends later. Still, I want you to have this.” Cake hoofed me a tiny black earring. Somehow it was warm to the touch, and I could almost feel its subtle imperfections in a somewhat familiar manner. I wondered if it was another earth pony thing. “That’s very nice of you, Cake. But my ears aren’t pierced—oh, and doing so is scary to me.” My excuses didn’t disturb her warm demeanor at all. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s a snap-on,” she explained, perhaps not realizing I was trying to refuse it. “I have the one for the left ear, so we can match!” “Thank you,” I said simply, carefully snapping it on to appease her.  She admired the combination of the earring and my pink mane briefly. For some reason, a blush slowly emerged on her countenance.  “What is it?” I asked, trying to squelch any hint of impatience in my voice.  “Oh, I— I don’t want to be weird or anything. Cause, umm…” “Come again?” “Well, you—you said you… like fillies…” I sighed and shook my head. “You don’t need to worry about that, Cake. I’m not looking for a fillyfriend. Besides, I get the sense that you wouldn’t like being pursued anyway.” She blushed even more. “Thanks…” “Have a nice night, Cake,” I said decisively. “Thanks for the earring.” While this wing of the fifth floor was fairly sparse, there was really nothing to see going counterclockwise—just some, mostly vacant, rooms. I quietly pondered this as my eyes scanned the repetitive sailboat carpet as if trying to discern a way to defeat the potential awkwardness. Fortunately, Cake Slice was even more in tune than I was to such things, and we thus averted the classic “saying goodbye and walking in the same direction” silliness when she galloped ahead. As my hooves led me back through the castle to my own room, I let my mind wander. I had tried to resist, but it was simply apt to do that lately. I knew it was likely another de-aging symptom, but I somehow reasoned that abetting it would help buy off further regression. On that note, homework had been getting harder for me. Granted, I still had another day to finish my math homework, but not doing it the day it was assigned made me feel... uncomfortable. I physically could focus; it was just that distractions that I could have quashed yesterday tended to bog me down. I collided with what felt like a brick wall—albeit a warm, fuzzy one. With a cute little gasp, I bounced harmlessly off of Celestia’s foreleg like a filly-sized chew toy. Why was she here? Besides this being her castle, of course. We didn’t have an appointment, did we? “Why are you here so late. I’m kinda ti—oh, right. I did agree to that, didn’t I?” She put on an apologetic frown for my benefit. “It won’t take too long—I promise.” Without further objection, we were on our way. As I scurried behind Celestia’s massive strides, I pondered the absurdity of scale in this world. I had to take around a half dozen steps for every step she took. Following that—I appreciated that while there were some nice things in the vicinity, my home floor took a relatively modest approach to furnishings. I liked it that way. “So how have you been doing?” Celestia asked, balancing her sincerity while trying not pry. “I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t know. I thought I was doing well. My first day of resolving not to fight everything slightly inconvenient had gone well, so I was optimistic. But it didn’t change the fact that I still had to sing in music class. It didn’t magically make all the attention less grating. And it turns out that me having fun the other day with Gilded’s request didn’t make everything peachy with my stupid little mock royal court. The Citrus twins want to kick-start the Anti-Annuity Alliance again. A whole bunch of posers have joined that as of late.”    “So you had to sing again today?” Celestia asked calmly, picking out the least aggravating thing I had listed. “Yeah, I think Ms. Fizzle is having me make up for all the free passes she gave me. Nopony really laughed this time, but honestly, that made it worse! That silence was devastating…” Celestia contemplated several approaches, judging by her changing expression, which ultimately ended with an uncharacteristic show of bashfulness. “Hmm… I appear to be lacking an effective cliche for this particular moment.”  With a happy click-clack of my front hooves, I looked up at her and grinned. “So you do realize it!” She gently shook her head. “Ruling as long as I have, it’s not just that I’ve heard everything; I have even heard myself say virtually everything within reason. Somehow hearing it in your own voice makes it seem even more tedious.” The elder princess entertained a subtle sorrow behind those huge eyes. I couldn’t fault her for seeking a distraction. “Oh, did Cake Slice give you that? The earring?” she asked. “Indeed. A shame I have nary a thing to match it with,” I said in my best (still terrible) Rarity impression.  She didn’t take any pity on me.  “So how did you know?” I asked.  “I sent her your way, actually,” Celestia admitted, cutting right to the point. “Thank you for sharing your activity choice with her. She and I had been working on asking for favors.” I took a little hop down from the bottom step. Remembering what one harsh experience had taught me, I lifted all four hooves in turn, to avoid tripping over my own tail. “That sounds pretty easy,” I remarked, a bit tactlessly. “That deserves an even more cliche lecture about everypony learning at their own pace, but for your sake, I’ll refrain.” Thank Celestia. "I have had a fair share of students over the years, but still, it’s not even been easy on my end. I've never taken on so many at once. And I also had forgotten that Twilight was an exception with her single-minded dedication. After all, not just anypony would take detailed notes and review them before every meeting.” “She was a quick study, then?”  Celestia smiled. “Actually, there were plenty of two steps forward and one step back to our ongoing dialogue. And sometimes two steps back. A pony such as she has a tendency to outsmart herself. Oh look: we’re here.” As if announcing it suddenly turned all five senses on at once, I suddenly became cognizant of that unmistakable smell of dust and yellow-paged tomes. “The library?” “Yes, follow me. It’s the reading room at the back,” she explained softly, motioning me forward. We arrived at a somewhat conspicuous blank wall. Celestia had, at some point, retrieved an old, rather unassuming key. There was no lock; instead, she waved it and the wall slowly slid open to accommodate us. I looked around during the shifting of wood, and aside from the single dedicated librarian, there were still a few ponies lingering. The pyramid structure of the library threw me off at times, but it was an architectural marvel. It was easy to notice the variety of beautiful woods, but nearly impossible to tell where one started and another ended. “River, are you ready?” “Oh, sorry,” I said sheepishly. “So what’s with the secrecy? Celestia gestured me in with her horn. “You will be illuminated momentarily.”  In stark contrast to the beautiful library surrounding it, this forbidden room was positively drab. It reminded me of a bunker. “Nopony actually sees it, after all,” Celestia explained, reading my mind.  Old books. Dusty devices of unknown origin. And… that was about it. "You wanted to show me this, why?” I griped. Celestia posed, as if ready to say something cool. The moment faded. “Well… the contents of this room are yours to use, to some extent.” I shrugged, a bit confused. “Yeah, you mentioned that. Alicorn stuff.” “Correct. These books contain ancient alicorn lore. Our nature— what is known anyway. The origin of my sister and I are shrouded in mystery. These books of alicorn lore are the closest link we have to the lost knowledge of our ancestors.” Boooring... “So, I take it you keep secrets of the kingdom here, for your eyes only?” “To the contrary!” Celestia declared. “Keeping official records here would run contrary to the very principles of our governance. We are imperfect rulers, and our ponies have the right to transparency in official records as much as possible. It’s traditionally difficult for many, but those who would criticize us are essential to the process.” It made sense. But I was still confused by something: “So why in the library? If this stuff is so secret—not that I understand why—why have it in a public space?” Celestia stared through a wall while formulating her answer. “It’s hidden in plain sight, I suppose, but the real reason is that we built the library around this room. Its geometry of the room uses runic principles to contain the room’s powerful magics.” “Stop teasing me. Show me the dangerous stuff al~re~a~dy.” Unlike before, I was feigning my impatience, and my exaggerated childishness earned a brief chuckle. “Magical items have a long history in Equestria. They are usually crafted by a great—if not *The* greatest— mage of a magical discipline.“ “I take it there are some fairly capable artifacts of destruction here...” The alicorn shook her head. “Some—but there are almost as many reasons for locking such items as there are items themselves. Not just destruction.” She gestured towards a winged cat statue. “Take the Flying Puma for instance. It allows one’s body to briefly experience absolute mastery in flight.” “What’s wrong with that?” I asked, sounding somewhat naive.  “More times than not, a pony will start to struggle in a vain attempt to recapture that transcendent feeling of total mastery. They’ll second guess themselves and usually become a worse flyer as a result. There are uses, however. Most notably it can help those with disabilities regain function.” She pointed to another one that looked like a stone trumpet. “And that one, to put it bluntly, simply blows stuff up.” I felt I was being strung along, set up for some joke by either the world or Celestia, so I didn’t voice my confusion. “Go on,” I tried, hoping to play it cool. “As I was mentioning before, there are some “bonus” perks to being an alicorn. I shall reveal some of them to you now.” “I was wondering when this whole thing would start to pay dividends,” I snarked. ”So far, wings I don’t know how to use have not compensated for the relentless pulling of my attention in every direction. A dyed wool satchel glided in front of Celestia. “First of all—the most recent addition—your own rewards card for Donut Joe’s! Buy six donuts, get one free!” “That… seems rather… well. Why is that special?” She flashed me a goofy, exaggerated smile. “Other ponies only get the bonus donut after buying a dozen!” I couldn’t even hazard a guess at what my mixed expression of bewilderment and impatience must have looked like. “And starting next month, you’ll get your first free issue of The Magical Scientist. They’ll probably give you the version for foals, but you’re right there with your skill level.” “I can make things float now,” I countered.  “Good job. Maybe now, you’ll be at the level where you can learn some things from it,” she said, rather coy.  “No congratulations?”  “Were you fishing for them?” “Well no, I’m just surprised you’re not positively reinforcing on me like you normally do.” Celestia took a deep breath and that unique, serene aura returned. “It is an accomplishment. Being tuned into the magical forces that bind us all is a paradigm shift. It reminds me of giving a pony that had experienced the world only as a blur, glasses for the first time.” Celestia must have sensed I was ready to move on, as she extracted another small card from the bag. “Oh, great, another punch card,” I said with somewhat venomous sarcasm. “What’s this one for, shine three hooves get one free?” “Even better.” She levitated it closer to my face. “It’s your membership card for WQ Holder.” “WQ what?” “Holder. It’s a club in dragon country, exclusively for immortals and the long-lived.” I shrugged. “Okay, that’s not bad. Maybe build some camaraderie.” A mischievous grin overcame me. “Oh, hey, I guess that means I don’t have to wait until I’m older to sample the full beverage menu. Do alicorns have a higher tolerance?” Predictably, she yanked it out of my hooves. “For when you’re older.” I snorted. “So when are you going to get to the point?” I begged. “Or is this whole charade just for a cheap laugh?” “Twilight and Cadance found it funny,” she sheepishly admitted. I just sighed. After a quiet moment, she swept her forelegs outward to encapsulate the entire room. “It really is symbolic. This unimpressive room is the reality of existing as an alicorn. From the outside, there is a thick cloud of mystique; but we’re in the position to see through to the truth. It’s also a reminder that we’re not entitled to much of anything by virtue of what we are on the outside. It’s what we do, as a function of who we are, that’s the real treasure—the one we share with the world.” “You could have just told me that,” I muttered, somewhat nonplussed by the extended metaphor. “There’s also a cot you’re welcome to use on the second floor when you just want to disconnect from the world for a bit.” I yawned, stretching for a bit. “I’m going to bed. In my own room.” “You’re not curious about what else is in the bag?” “Oh, are there some twenty three-sided dice? A prismatic mothball of friendship?” “How did you know?” she said, with overbearing seriousness. I groaned. Feeling that wasn’t enough, I looked around for a prop and spotted an intricately crafted metal chest. Using my surprising amount of experience, I hopped up onto it and eyed the princess from my new vantage point. I had a quip prepared, but for a second I was disoriented by a high-pitched resonance engulfing my right ear. “Alice—” “So what’s in the chest? A dried out mushroom? A million bits? Perhaps an ancient demon soul?”  Somehow. that sounded a lot better in my head. “Alice, your ear…” The humming didn’t stop so I swiped at the closer ear. A subtle pressure lifted; then I realized. The earring had come loose! “Oh no!”  Reacting quickly I dove off the chest, extending outward to catch the earring. Time slowed as the jewelry plummeted before me as I reached desperately and… made the catch! I landed flat on the floor, but I was so small only a small puff of dust marked my impact. The earring felt oddly warm to the touch. Curious, I turned it over in my hooves. “And it’s shimmering…” A spark of panic coursed through me as I looked back at my flank. “Oh, good—I didn’t get an earring cutie mark.” “Alice, could this be-?” As if responding to the elder alicorn’s words, the tiny earring started to warp before me. Once the light had fully engulfed the trinket, It inflated to the size of an apple as it suddenly became cold. It then stretched like clay, giving shape to a slender body with ridges. Just as quickly as it had begun, the glowing subsided, and I was now holding a toy-sized iron key. My natural reaction was to shrug off the weirdness. “Don’t tell me this is the key to Cake Slice’s diary—she must have given me the wrong one.” Celestia seemed to be trying to temper a sudden jump of excitement but was failing. “Alice! That’s one of the Mediator Keys!” I looked down at the unremarkable brass key. “One of the what?” “You’re holding one of the keys to that.” She pointed at the chest I had previously tried to use as a stage. I stole a glance at the key and the chest and then looked back at her. “How can you be sure of that?” I asked. The moment I did so, a couple of reasons why this was ridiculous came to me at once and made me regret not being more incisive and critical. But suddenly I became attuned to the magical connection between what I was holding and the chest—it was as if the chest were levitating the key via the resonance method. “Nevermind. I see it… sorry.” Celestia appeared to study the ceiling as she formulated her explanation. “The Mediator’s Chest is one of a series of lockboxes from an ancient tale. A legendary mage hailing from the western desert—one whose true identity has been lost to history—supposedly was called before a long-forgotten king solely for his entertainment. The king’s daughter, the seer known as Taste of Rose knew immediately that this was the mysterious figure she had long seen coming...” “Booooring,” I groaned. “Pony history is confusing enough, without everything being long forgotten. Come to think of it, that seems to happen a lot...” “The era of pony city-states was erratic, punctuated by violence,” Celestia explained patiently. The ancient Lynx empire meanwhile waxed and waned in power and in temperament. Depending on the combination of the two, the ponies could prove soft targets in the path of their expansion.” “I take that back: that actually sounds pretty interesting. Why don’t they teach that in school?” “Honestly, it’s pretty repetitive. Felinus II sacked seven cities; Pawl III annexed Eastern Griffonia; Felinus III conquered the yaks—you get the idea. It’s about the only thing the Lynx bothered to record. Anyway, the chest.”  “Right.” I sighed. “The Pony with No Name created these chests together with Rose. Supposedly, the esoteric spells contained within were designed for individuals far into the future.” I tapped on the floor and I readied a counter. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be fun if she were right. “The key thing might be true. But how do you know there really isn’t just a shriveled mushroom in that chest?” Celestia smiled. “That’s because Twilight unlocked one of its counterparts—The Chest of Harmony.” I was deliberately silent. “The spell within crystalized—somewhat literally—into Twilight’s castle. We’re still learning more and more about it as Twilight and her friends embark on quests given by the magical map.” “I don’t need a castle,” I said quickly. Celestia experienced a subtle moment of meekness. “I—I wasn’t going there… at least not yet. And no, I don’t think you’ll be getting your own castle.” “How do we open it? Because judging by all those locks, somepony really believed in redundancy.” Celestia cleared her throat. “Rather than explain the finer points, I’ll simply tell you what we’ve seen before: Twilight’s friends each found one of the keys. The similarity lies in the fact that the keys materialized from gifts received from others—some they gained assisting with challenges associated with their respective Elements of Harmony.” I looked over the chest again. It still seemed to me as unimpressive as the rest of the room. I looked it over as I contemplated what may lie within. Clearly, it wasn’t just some trinket. I sighed when that let me arrive at a conclusion. “So who’s in the market for a magical miracle, then? I wonder—I take it you’re not willing to step in for me?” Celestia looked genuinely remorseful. “I tried, Alice. I tried to keep you away from the calls of fate—of destiny and that sort. It’s just, that chest must have been waiting for you—perhaps even made for you.” “That’s kinda annoying,” I complained. I really didn’t need to feel any more important, especially now. “So why would I want to open it, then? I’m not being selfish: If the other exchange ponies need help that badly, I’ll help them. But why would I want to open the chest?” Celestia nodded “So you’ve reached the same conclusion, I see. Twelve locks: twelve exchange ponies. Now, I admittedly have a bias towards seeing what’s in the chest, after staring at it for so long, but I was trying to find an answer to the same question you posed.” Celestia’s sedate smile spoke of mild triumph. “You said it yourself: who would need a magical miracle, I wonder?” I was mad at first blush. The more I thought about it, however, the more promising it seemed. “So, if Twilight becoming an alicorn broke the rules, then something that can defy Harmony may be exactly what I need. Or is opening the chest what Harmony wants?”  Celestia appeared to study her forehoof as she weighed her words. “I won’t lie: a new Castle of Friendship seems like something Harmony would ‘want’; however, we’re not just dealing with the will of mysterious forces, but real ponies.” I stomped a hoof. “Why would I trust the makers of the chest any more than Harmony?” She made eye contact with me. “It is a risk—there’s no backing away from that. But inaction is a risk as well. Alice, we’re making progress on your memories,” she declared, finally saying aloud what this conversation had been about. “Between two or three proposals, we should be able to do something to safeguard your identity and sense of self.” My ears perked up. “That’s the good news. We’re a bit concerned about—let’s call it a metaphysical question…” I tilted my head. “Which is?” Celestia took a breath. “Basically, even if we save all of your memories, an infant’s brain probably won’t be able to handle everything at once.” “I’ve heard that one before,” I said, impatiently. “What’s changed is that we’ve theorized a way to cycle your memories through your dreams. However, it may perturb your brain development. Maybe for the worse.” I look down at my shaking forelegs. This doesn’t sound good… Celestia continued unabated: “Unfortunately, the natural recourse has problems as well. As you would have had experiences as a filly with partial memory, your personality might diverge. I know it sounds strange coming from me since I am apt to remind you that some change is natural—but the lack of continuity is… troubling.” She paused momentarily for effect, yanking my focus back to reality. “Or it could be no problem at all. We simply don’t have the experience to predict how this is going to go.” The alicorn started to gesture with her wings and a forehoof but suddenly relaxed. “Well, there is the idea of core memories. It’s a slippery concept. If we can stably combine it with the dream method,well..." A bundle of conflicting thoughts intertwined. I felt fear, a little anger at not being told some of the new details, some relief, moderate unease. I simply didn’t know how to feel. It took a show of will not to stomp my hooves in desperation. I also had a weird urge to chew on my fetlock. Anything to calm the turbulence. “What it comes down to,” she explained softly, “is that it’s another lead. I can understand you would naturally mistrust ponies that have been dead for thousands of years. I will also admit one good outcome doesn’t assuage all fears. But I don’t think they would include a dozen locks for a practical joke, or to harm you.” She sighed. “I will leave it up to you. And hopefully, we won’t need it.”  “Any other ideas?” I asked, feigning a calm aura while I collected my thoughts. “If you had a guardian spirit you may be able to offload your memories onto him or her,” she explained, uncertain. “We’re looking for another way to use the principle of this method. Yet another option is to try and get you to last until your magical signature hits four years or so—shorter earth pony years, mind you.” I feigned some interest in my surroundings in an attempt to hide my conflicted emotions. Then I pressed down on my back hoof as if squishing an unseen substance into powder. I shook my head twice, coughed at the dust of the room and then went back to direct eye contact. “All right, I’ll search for the keys. It gives me something to do. There’s also a part of me that hates having to rely on you for everything.” She clapped her hooves softly, realizing halfway through that her reaction might not go over well with me. “I’ll get you my notes, then. The good news is all of them are going to the same camp as you.” “All eleven, huh?”  I smirked. “Wait a minute: I’m not going to get a key from myself. So the math doesn’t add up!” “I realized that. In truth, it doesn’t bother me too much. Perhaps number twelve is a mystery pony of sorts—or even a non-pony.” I considered various candidates. None of them struck me as needing a current friendship problem resolved. Thaumaturgical had had more than one, but those were firmly in the past at this point.  Celestia started walking to the door. “I’m sure you can figure it out.” “That’s all you have for me?!” Celestia looked irked for a moment but seemed on the verge of laughing the next moment. “Actually, I was going to have Quick Script make you a copy of my notes.” I felt like a jerk. “Oh… I’d appreciate that.” I followed her out, refocusing myself. Well, I got one without doing anything, almost. This can’t be that hard… With vigor and confidence, I bravely knocked on the door to a room I never had ventured toward voluntarily. Surprising even myself, I was happy when the rust-colored batpony with that contrasting purple mane opened the door. “River!? What brings you here tonight!? Did you come for girl talk or—” “No.” New Moon froze momentarily. “Well, that’s okay. We’d need more fillies for that anyway. Haha,” She laughed stiltedly, her smile a bit too wide, “Hey, since you’re here can I ask you a quick question first? I just want to make sure of something…” “Sure,” I replied, patiently, with mild curiosity. “Have you been avoiding me?” she asked, quite candidly. “Huh?” It wasn’t exactly the most intelligent response, but a few seconds’ worth of hindsight didn’t suggest anything better. “I mean duh, you aren’t ‘cause you knocked on my door. But, it’s just… I mean, ever since you became a princess, you haven’t been very accessible.” “I’d say I’m a bit too accessible,” I said, more than a tad bitter. I felt somewhat bad, so I changed the course. “Lots of ponies want my attention. I can’t let everypony have it, or I’d never sleep.” “I suppose that makes sense,” New Moon conceded. I noticed an opportunity to take back the initiative. “Well, you’re in luck!” I said with a soft, practiced confidence. “Princess Celestia has deputized me to help you and the others with your friendship studies.” “Neat! Am I first!?” New Moon said, bouncing in place. “Well, yes. Other than Cake Slice, I guess… kinda helped her before Celestia made it official.” The batfilly looked slightly disappointed. “That’s strange. Cake didn’t mention anything like that.” “So you are close to her, then. She’s a nice filly,” I said thoughtfully. Although my attempts at conversation were natural, I couldn’t help but feel I was trying to force a personal connection with her. She rubbed her chin. “Not really more so than with any other pony. But I can count on her whenever I want to do a group friendship practice. It’s really thoughtful of her to always volunteer when I ask her. Though she’s shy about it...” She probably doesn’t know how to say no. I know firsthand how hard that can be. I must have a weakness for Pink Diamond… “Well come on in,” she prompted gleefully. I looked around. Since I had last been in the room, she had added her own personal touch. I could still see the underlying floorplan identical to mine, but the comforter and pillowcases matching her colors made it feel like her own. Suddenly I became very aware that I wasn’t exactly amazing at talking to fillies. Becoming one should have made that automatic, but somehow I still had better luck with Squirt and Thaumaturgical. As such, I seized the first distraction to ease myself in. “Oh, is that your family? Wow! You have all three tribes represented. That’s great.” I cringed. Oh no, did I screw up already? Are batponies a fourth type? She flapped her wings happily. “Yes, you can see Caramel, Mousse, Minty! They’re my stepmom’s foals. She’s very nice, you know? You’d think that a seamstress would be really strict—or should I say high-strung heehee—but she’s nice. I always thought I wouldn’t name my own foals after food, but it works for them—oh, not that it’s only an earth pony thing—I don’t mean that. What do you think about food names, River?” I hesitated somewhat. “Oh, I think they’re interesting, but I—” “Yeah, I’ve heard some wild ones,” New Moon said with a laugh. “Some families have themes going. I like that, but if you have the names planned ahead of time, you can mess up with luminous surprises, you know? Pegasi do that quite a bit too, but unicorns less so. I don’t know. Maybe I just haven’t met enough unicorns. Cake Slice has been interesting because of that. And formerly you, haha. How crazy is that?” I must have had a dumbfounded look plastered on my face. Celestia’s notes had undersold it. This filly didn’t “specialize in one-on-one conversations.” No, she dominated any dialogue. “Lua” took a calming moment to smell the grass. It had recently become a familiar scent that neither my vocabulary nor my once-human nose could comprehend.  Okay, I underestimated New Moon. Turns out there’s more to it than getting her with groups. Now, if I want easy, Blue Horizon should be easier for sure. According to Celestia, she just wants friends and doesn’t know how to approach ponies without being antagonistic. All Lua has to do is get her to realize it’s not that hard. Remembering my other duty I turned to a panting Squirt. “You seem like you’re adapting bit by bit,” I noted. “Yeah… but… just because I’m not… complaining doesn’t mean I’m used to it. This… still bites.” I took a seat on a smooth rock next to him. “I’ve always liked exercising so I can’t say, but it can get better. Like I wasn’t too sure about board games at first, but I—” I froze “—I mean mahjong! Yes, mahjong. Other fillies can’t get enough of it, but I’m bad at it. But it does get better. I don’t love it, but I don’t hate playing anymore.”  I laughed awkwardly as I broke eye contact and pretended to be suddenly interested in the pegasi tending to the clouds above us. “You play board games?” Squirt asked, not buying my deflection at all. “No no no! Not often!” I insisted, panicked. “There’s nothing wrong with board games, though. Surprisingly enjoyable!” Squirt rose an eyebrow at me. “You’re weird. And that carries some weight coming from me.” I sighed. Well, no luck today either. I knew I had been strong-armed into supporting Squirt, but I still felt obligated to help him have something of a good experience. I looked to my right. Squirt had slipped away at some point, which was something of a relief, seeing as I messed up. Talking with Squirt had reminded me that I now had two distractions during soccer practice. Eager to get back down to only one problem to solve, I approached Blue Horizon with confidence. “Hey. Let’s settle this—now,” I demanded. She flinched at the suddenness. “We’ve been skirmishing for a while now,” I continued. “You are a worthy opponent, but the games are going to start after camp. We need teamwork, you know?” Blue Horizon challenged me with direct eye contact. “You’re up to something—I know it.” “You know me: I fight fair.” Please, just roll with it… “Why would you—” she grinned. “I see how it is: you want to focus on Squirt.” I got goosebumps, which was usually a portent of a new source of irritation. “You like Squirt, don’t you?” “No.” I said, cold-blooded.  It took a formidable amount of control to stifle any surprise. As embarrassing as her suggestion was, overreacting would surely make it stick. Her grin sharpened. “Well, guess what! I like him too.” My first thought was that she was lying. My second was laced with bad language. She slowly waved goodbye, rubbing salt in the wound, perhaps unintentionally. Oh, good. I needed that in my life.