//------------------------------// // Chapter 43 // Story: Borrowed Time // by Gambit Prawn //------------------------------// Across from Celestia’s bed lay an antique table. It had a texture that piqued the seventh sense and alerted one to its true age. Atop it, stood a pair of lamps. One was merely an imitation—a cheap facade trying in vain to live up the prestige of its expensive counterpartpedestal. Beside it, a gnarled black lamp sat rather conspicuously, as if unhappy with its companion. Together they formed a halfhearted collection of sorts. The structure of the ponies—it is a sort of benign turpitude. The diarchy as it functions not so much as a police state would, but as a sort of pervasive, perverse conscience. In other words, it is not through a show of force, so much as it is through a moral superstructure. The singing and dancing and so on fosters a sort of unity that gives with one hand, but extracts a sort of—shall we say an offering with the other. While superficially, an offering of one’s praise and adoration is a token gesture, it is through such it is propagated. Even when substantial tethers to reality itself are lacking. Instead, an alternative reality not merely supplants it but also, shall we say, forms a parasitic doppelganger. The lamp was motionless.   I was drained. Pink Diamond had dragged me across half of Canterlot after I had tried to get to know her any better. It was as if she just saw it as a great opportunity to monopolize a filly “not-princess.”  I stopped for no particular reason in the castle hallway and stared into the eyes of a painted stallion. He and a mare stood in front of an unassuming barn, together, dominating the foreground. Like most of the art in the castle, it was a replica, but it had to be famous for me to see it in more than one place. I felt like a dolt staring at the stallion’s chin while I collected my thoughts. I was almost procrastinating even when it came to thinking.   Does she even know what her own friendship problem is? Would it even be very effective for Celestia to verbalize it as a diagnosis? I did have something concrete at least: she felt bad that she didn’t spend enough time with her friends. On the surface, that might have seemed simple enough, but from what I could see, she did nothing but that! I lowered my gaze. That pony really might believe she doesn’t bring enough energy to her interactions. That’s ironic… Again: it was something. But from how much it took out of me, it was hardly a fair trade. Fortunately, I was stubborn and was able to power through Blue Horizon’s turn with me as well. Great effort had gone into making my schedule, and I wasn’t about to let it be defeated on day one.  My tired muscles had found their second wind and started carrying me towards my dreaded destination. Truthfully Blue Horizon had gone worse than Pink Diamond had. The normally competitive unicorn filly was hardly trying! She agreed readily with whatever I would say and hardly hazarded a single idea of her own. Did I expect to be able to get through to them just with words? Maybe Lua would do a better job with her? Or would that be cheating? If she gives Lua the item instead of River, will the magic not work? I’d better not find out... I reluctantly knocked on New Moon’s door. I was already angry at myself for scheduling her at the tail end.    The door, lightly decorated with pink stickers, flung open. It cleared me by about an inch to reveal my favorite (only) batpony acquaintance.  “Hiya, River. Glad you made it! What are we doing this time?” “Yeah, Celestia gave me a job to do, and I guess I’m here to do it!” I tried my best to match her enthusiasm. I wasn’t getting close, but I at least owed her something of an effort. “So let’s not delay. How do you understand your friendship problem?” She moved out of the way, as if to remind me that we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the hallway. I sheepishly trotted to her bed and paused momentarily to fix a wrinkled corner of the bedsheet. It had some sort of modernist floral design with plenty of triangles. I didn’t really understand it. Finally “ready,” I faced New Moon again and sat. I waited a moment for her delayed answer to my innocuous question. Then, I realized that if I did this wrong I might not get a single word in by bedtime! “In just a few words—” I cut in, just as she inhaled to finally respond. “I know what Celestia thinks your problem is, but I’d like to hear your own impression.” New Moon smiled. “Well, if it’s even a problem, I’d say that it’s too much of a good thing!”  “What—” “I’m a socialite!” She dramatically tossed her bangs to the side. “I love the spotlight. I’ve gotta have the gossip. I need to knock hooves with the elites and the up-and-comers alike.” “So do you think you do this too much? Do you want to change something? Do you… want to do it better?” I was so relieved to be afforded the time to ask another question that I may have immediately sabotaged my effort. Helping her to be a better “socialite” just screamed “dead-end.” “I don’t… really know.” She looked down and away at her tail and seemed to panic. She then grabbed a brush from a nearby drawer and attacked a tangle I couldn’t quite see. “A filly’s gotta be social, you know? Just like how I can’t let my tail get all gnarly.”  “Do you like being so outgoing?” I asked, a bit bluntly, while also wondering if my own tail needed more maintenance than I’d given it. “Of course! It may not be my cutie mark… yet, but I’m pretty good at it if I do say so myself.” I confirmed for myself that surprising detail, which had only come to my attention thanks to Celestia’s notes: she— along with Perfect Double and Noble Truth—was a blank flank. Theoretically this should have given me some sort of advantage, like additional credibility, but there was nothing I could latch onto.   “So, do you think you can help me do it better?” she asked, invading what little distance was between us.  “Well... maybe.”  The suddenness of the question had caught me off guard. She was probably barking up the wrong tree. I knew she wasn’t bad as a conversationalist. Celestia knew too, but I couldn’t just tell her outright and expect to be effective. Think. She couldn’t be this wrong about her problem. Surely, Celestia told her something. Think… A lightbulb went off in my head. It was a bit of a strange idiom in my native Rhodish, since I had yet to meet anyone who could tell me what in the blazes a “lightbulb” was. “New Moon, when we first got together, you said Celestia wanted you to practice with groups of friends. Why do you think that is?” I got slightly miffed at my own tone. I was starting to sound like Ms. Fizzle at her worst. “I’m glad you remember that!” she said, beaming. “That was when I first met you! Cake Slice was there, and Pink Diamond was there...” Suddenly her enthusiasm tapered off. “Why is that… Princess Celestia hasn’t really told me.” Yes! Progress! “You can guess,” I goaded her. “There are no wrong answers here.” Now I’m sounding like Ms. Fizzle at her “best”... “Maybe.... it’s probably because I don’t talk to all the ponies in a group the same. I have to make sure to talk to and about everypony, so nopony feels left out.” It was close—somewhat. I reached to habitually comb my bangs, forgetting that Sunny Style had done my mane earlier that day. While short, there was just enough of a borderline girly flair to lead me to doubt my own sanity as to whether it was really there or not. “So how do you want to practice?” I asked, overconfident.             She perked up even more. “Well, I have been brainstorming a lot! I have exciting ideas, boring ideas, glamorous ideas, a few quiet ideas and more! What to do first? Oh, I know: I can show you what I’ve been doing for practice!” It seemed like a modest enough suggestion. Little did I know I would scarcely get a complete sentence in for the next hour. She opened a drawer and retrieved a cheaply-bound book. It fell open, revealing a taped collage of pictures showing various foals. Aside from her, I recognized Cake Slice, Bulwark and the zebra filly I had met before.  She started pointing all over. “This is Pastry Peach and True North. They’re my besties right now! I have been talking to Chrysanthemum more too! Bulwark is nice, but she does her own thing most of the time.” She took an innocuous, quick breath, which, in hindsight, was a rare chance to interrupt. “Anyway, North likes Clear Looker, but he likes Chrysanthemum, who is probably a bit too young for love. Although Chrysanthemum said one time that she likes a colt who could—” This would take a while... Still, the lamp remained, neglected by its supposed owner. For the changeling shapeshifters, it is a matter of identity. Not so much as an internal sense of self, part of a hive, and so on, and so on, but immutable essence beyond principle and temperament. It is as such that many ask themselves that if I am shaped by my experience, my masquerade and my very form, what is it that is the constant? The soul, as we say, is not so much as a palpable manifestation, but an abstruse construction. Regardless of its structure, the myth itself provides sustenance. That we are all more than the sum of our parts. This can extend to consciousness and so on— Could anypony pity a lamp? All expression was void. I sat across from my current charge: Noble Truth. Ostensibly, she was one of the least happy ponies I had ever come across, but this was merely judging on appearances. Her teal and pink mane had a disorderly way of framing her face. Yet, from my own manecare experience, I knew it couldn’t be the product of lack of maintenance. Dark colors, as was the case of her shade of purple fur, tended to stand out; she was an exception. I levitated my small milk carton and swirled its contents for my fleeting amusement. While the guards surrounding us in the cafeteria were at least as jolly as usual, our table stood as an island of stress and anguish.  “So what—oh”  She lifted her orange juice for a big gulp just as I attempted to restart the conversation. Celestia had warned me this earth pony filly would be challenging. Despite this, she had the easiest friendship problem to explain: disinterest. I found it both reassuring and frustrating that Celestia could provide no hint for this trial. “So what do you like to do?” I asked—quickly, before she could put me off again. She stared at her plate. “I don’t know. I guess I like crossword puzzles…” I perked up. “Great. What makes you like them?” I asked as if trying to inject her with some of my excess energy. “Does it matter?” Noble Truth asked, with a certain disdain. It was a contemplated remark that I sensed wasn’t personal. I let out a sigh, but immediately reached deep within myself to try and find anything to offset my own growing pessimism. Suddenly the constant clanging of silverware and ambient hoofbeats returned to the foreground as distractions.     “Are you going to suggest we do crosswords together?” “I thought about it...” I confessed. She looked me in the eyes, for what felt like the first time. “Look: there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re doing what Princess Celestia asked, and that’s fine. It’s a hard job; I wouldn’t want it. But you don’t have to pretend to be my friend. I’ll let you hang out for a while and you can write a nice friendship report to the Princess, and then we’ll be done.” “Cake Slice actually only wanted to be my acquaintance when I helped her...” I explained. I mainly wanted time to think, but fortuitously, it was a good point. “She did, huh?” Noble Truth said with a full mouth. “So why would the princess dispatch you, then?” She’s got a good point. I can’t admit that I’m doing this just for that stupid box. What can I do that Celestia can’t? Actually… “It’s because she really wants to help you! I might not succeed, but there’s a chance it could work out. I mean, you talk to her about something, don’t you? Or do you just have tea during your sessions?” Noble Truth’s ears drooped. At first, I thought she was embarrassed, but there was a consternation beyond that written on her face. “I’m not perfect...” she finally said. “Princess Celestia thinks I need more friends, and my parents think so too, but I’m okay. I don’t need to go out on the town every Sunday.” She swept up her trash into her tray and got up. “See you around, River.” I had expected a longer lunch with her, but I couldn’t muster the zeal to stop her. I shifted in my seat and felt the static caused by my fur against the smooth bench. She wants friends, but doesn’t want to want friends. So is she the most cliche case of them all? What am I supposed to do? Drag her with me to see Squirt—Squirt and… Ah, ponyfeathers… she’s me, isn’t she? Will I really need to reach out and get her to embrace pony socialization?  I’ve only barely “progressed” to the “Squirt” stage of development myself. And if that’s all I can do for her, I’d deserve a “C-” at best. And I doubt magic keys grade on a curve... My stomach sank as the worst realization yet hit: I might not be able to do this job as I was currently. And I had to wonder: exactly what kind of pony would River Glade need to be to solve a dozen friendship problems? I sat alone during recess. The big tree in the playground was a central hub of sorts, but one perk of being a pseudoprincess was that nopony tried to kick me off the spot. After pleading with my classmates, they allowed me to have some alone time when I wasn’t in a mood to play with them. It was sort of an all-or-nothing prospect, though, since I couldn’t talk with Thaumaturgical or Squirt without onlookers congregating around me. “You doing okay?” Pestle softly asked, sneaking up on me. I might have jumped, but dealing with Star had given a certain resistance. I picked up the scattered sheets of my notes. “I was just strategizing the whole mission thingy. I’ve got Celestia’s notes almost memorized at this point—these are mine, actually. Do you have something to report on?” I did my best not to sound impatient and still failed. “Has the schedule I made worked out?” I smiled at her. “It has been helpful. Success hasn’t been forthcoming thus far, but that’s my fault. I thought I was pretty good at planning, but your tune-ups were something else. What’s your secret?” She shrugged, and a leaf randomly fell on her nose. “It’s nothing special. It’s just something alchemy really helps with. You have to consider which ingredients are the limiting factors and adjust the ratios of everything else to maximize the potency of the brew.” I blew the leaf off her nose. “Oh, do you have anything new on Pink Diamond?” I asked, somewhat excited. She pressed a hoof against the big tree and stretched her neck. “I haven’t had much luck honestly. She’s kind of closed off to me I think” “Really?!” I asked, truly incredulous.  “She basically chose Annuity over me. It’s fine. I mean, we don’t have anything in common anyway.” “Yes, that’s fine. I may not be any better of a friend candidate, but she trusts me at least.” I considered refraining from my next comment, but for some reason, it was comforting to complain. “You know, she’s not even the toughest nut to crack. That Noble Truth will be harder than I thought, and Perfect Double is a real screwball. Oh well, at least I don’t have to redeem Annuity or anything.” The purple filly actually laughed. “Yeah, uhhh… apparently princesses are tasked with redeeming evildoers. I’ll just say that’s above my pay grade for now.” I looked back at my notes with subtle anxiety clouding my thoughts. I had wanted to review my notes as much as possible, and now I didn’t know if I could refocus. Somehow, Pestle read that. “I’m sorry I interrupted you, but I wanted to give you this—” She hoofed me a vial of murky liquid. I shook my head. “That’s dangerous for me with my… situation.” “I know!” she chirped. “It’s an energy brew—no more magical than a glass of milk.” “Oh, that’s thoughtful…” I said, flattered. My classmates started encroaching on our position. Apparently, they weren’t going to let Pestle hog me. The bell rang. I breathed a sigh of relief. That didn’t stop Zephyr Zap from accosting me, though. “Hi River! Can you hear my request today?” “Hey, no reservations!” Stardust griped. “Read the rules!”  “Actually, Zap, I won’t be able to do “court” for a little while,” I announced—at a volume everypony could hear. “I have a mission from Princess Celestia.” Listening to myself talk, it sounded like a hastily assembled excuse. “Is it a friendship mission?” Little Pinion asked. “No—well, yes. It’s a friendship mission.” Annuity circled to the back of the line. “Everypony, are you going to stand for this? A friendship mission?! Why would Princess Celestia give a total newbie a job like that? She’s trying to ignore your very important petitions!” “Umm… exactly what else would Princess Celestia have a friendship student do?” Pestle asked sardonically. Annuity’s face puffed up, and the laughter of the crowd silenced her retort. You know, this whole friends with Pestle thing might work after all. This… might be okay. “Huh?” Pestle turned her head to look questioningly at me. “Did… did you say something?” I asked uncertainly. “No?” Pestle replied. “Nothing… thought I heard something.” “I am very ‘appy to be here. Ze Princezz was graceful to let me be here with you all,” Mix-up said, after starting with some small talk.  He’s humble. A bit too much... “I’m glad you’re enjoying your time in Canterlot. I didn’t know at first if I would enjoy Equestria mysel—this program I mean.” Mix-up stretched his wings. Before I had wings, I had thought it was some sort of body language I was missing. Nope—turns out it’s easy to forget to move them, and then they’ll suddenly go to sleep or stiffen up. “It iz nice ‘ere. I am learning lots of things.”  Celestia’s notes were fairly straightforward, so I decided a proportionally direct course of action was called for. “You… want to make more friends, but your Equish isn’t great.” Mix-up flinched. Maybe that was too direct… I looked at one of his many pictures, for a reason break eye contact. I assumed it was his father, as he had a similar pattern of colored spots contrasting with the rest of his coat. “Celestia told me,” I said simply. I was met with a concerned expression. “You don’t call her Princezz? Are you zat close with ‘er?” Dang! I always forget that.  I might be the same race as her, but that didn’t make her my equal. Then again, applying the title seemed a bit too...distant. “Do you want to practice?” I said, changing the subject. “No!” He said, somewhat surprised by his own tone. “I mean, if that is what ze princezz wants, I will do it. But is zat about friendship?” I had a subtle moment of panic, as if suddenly blindsided by the fact that I had no qualifications whatsoever to do this job. “You want to make new friends here, yes?” It’s a better starting point than some.            He nodded bashfully. I trotted closer. “I would introduce you to my friends, but none of them seem like a good fit honestly.” He blushed and stepped a few paces back. “But if I can get to know you, maybe we can figure out the type of ponies you can target. You see—” I took a step forward; he took a step back. I paused for a moment. I took a step forward; he took a step back. Stopping just short of pinning him to the wall, I looked him over, puzzled. “Is something wrong?” “No, it iz just... you are so very pretty…” I blushed slightly—more for the embarrassment than the compliment itself. It had to be that… “Flattery will get you nowhere,” I said, primarily for my own satisfaction. He combed his hair, still jittery. “Mais non, I am not used to ze attention from fillies,” he said in his strange cadence. Fortunately, I could tell he wasn’t misinterpreting my interest in him. “You are a princezz, and I don’t think—” “Not a princess—” I cut in. “Sorry, continue.” He cleared his throat. “I just don’t think a filly can help with making friends with colts...” My face and legs tensed up in the early stages of anger. But then I remembered that he never saw me as a colt in the first place. Then I was suddenly rocked by anguish. I realized, rather suddenly, and very clearly, my station on the other side of an invisible wall. In my attempt to reach over, I was knocked off my hooves. But I still had to say something… “Uh… yeah, I could see you might think that. But you might be surprised—haha.” My weak laugh echoed, if only in my head. “Very well,” he said, with slightly more confidence in himself. “You have learned from the princezz, no?” “Right!” That’s step one.  Now what?   The lamp marinated in the all-encompassing monologue. The position of the solipsist is not so much placing the ego above all else as an absolute skepticism—even humility. What some may say is putting one’s self above all else, there is room for profound clarity of that same scorned external reality. It might even be more natural for one to say “I am one with everything” as “I am god” and so on and so on. This pseudo egalitarianism thus bridges the divide between what one wants and what one is, which from the standpoint of— Mercifully, Princess Celestia trotted through the door. She magicked the door and deliberately looked both ways before releasing the spell. “Gah!” the changeling voiced, panting and wheezing mid-form as Celestia levitated him off the table. The princess wore a suspicious and concerned expression. “Are you all right?” “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just another full day of torture!” The princess frowned. “Are you not used to turning into other things?” “Not like that!” Celestia levitated a cold cup of tea to her lips, perhaps to conceal her emotions. “Some have likened it to sleep, though I’ve seldom used such magic to restrain others.” The little changeling gave the princess a quick look-over in order to gauge that statement.  I think she’s telling the truth. “Not what I care to hear,” the changeling said to them both. “Sleep is actually quiet.” Celestia levitated her crown to her nightstand. “It’s not a method I prefer, but otherwise, all you need to do is turn into a mouse and scurry off… That’s how you got out the first time, no?” The former lamp scoffed. “One: you greatly underrate the difficulty of assuming such forms. Two: Maniacal Laughter had her skeleton key hairpin. I would’ve thought you would immediately confiscate something like that, but I’m not here to tell you how to run your kingdom.” The princess almost retorted, but thought better of it. “So is that mare a changeling as well?” “No, just crazy.” The queen won’t like— “You’re surprisingly loose lip—” “I know!” the changeling child shouted. “Look: we all know I’ll lose in the long run when it comes to protecting my intel. It’s just a matter of how low you’ll go with the torturing children thing.” Princess Celestia’s expression softened a little and showed… guilt? “So what’s your mission, little one?” The changeling examined his front hoof, not bothering to mask his indifference. “My side is actually smart—smarter, you know? I was told no more than I needed to know. The queen supposedly wanted to test one of the loopy unicorn’s devices.” Princess Celestia looked ready to seize on that remark. “Though I don’t know which one!” He emphasized. “Maybe we’ve tested it already. Maybe not, but I haven’t a clue.” “And the other villains?” Celestia asked serenely. “Some are changelings; some aren’t. The queen isn’t that original, honestly, so she probably stole the idea from somewhere.” The princess visibly relaxed. Would this be enough to satisfy her, or would he have more quality time with Tlldem? “You are rather... unique. I never thought a changeling would critique his queen. Who are you?” “My name is Hiromaru Usawa. I was a regular office worker when one day I didn’t see a truck coming and it hit—ow!” Celestia had whacked him hard with a pillow. “Okay, fine. The truth is that I was the ninth son of the Holy Colander Emperor on the planet of Cormino. I was betrayed by my older brother, but instead of dying, a pasta deity offered me the opportunity to reincarnate into— ow!”    The pillow, which normally represents security in a state of utmost vulnerability has become a weapon, as if one’s own inner peace is the harbinger of invasion... “Quiet, Tlldem.” It felt really good to be able to say that again.  “Hmm?” “Oh, nothing. Just talking to my guardian spirit.” Once more, the innocent changeling was whacked in the snout. ‘Hey! What gives!?” Princess Celestia’s previously disarming and gullible expression faded. “If you’re done rehashing the plots of comics, I have… a proposal.” “Okay, what’s in it for me?” “Let’s start with… twenty-four hour leave from this place, and… seeing an old friend.” The concept of parole itself is— “So when do we get started?” Diane groped her way through a maze of vines. After circling for what felt like hours, she finally rounded a corner that looked unfamiliar. Bracing herself against a weathered stone wall, she was struggling to catch her breath. “That’s… odd. Quarrel sent me… but I can’t—” “Need something?” Diane jumped and reached for a weapon that the dreamscape hadn’t afforded her. The same moment she locked eyes with the brown filly was the one when she remembered whose voice it was. “You’re… Auburn?” The foal nodded. Diane kicked a leg back and balanced herself in a fighting stance. “I was warned that one of you dream creatures was false. Forgive me, but I’m not going to believe my brother is the fake.” The filly looked down. “That’s not nice. Just because I can’t walk and talk like you do in the material realm doesn’t mean I’m a fake.” Diane slightly relaxed her muscles. “My… friend… told me that there were tricks in the realm of dreams. I just thought—” The filly sighed. “I’m used to it—really…” This time, Diane’s guilt did overpower her battle readiness. “I suppose I’m trespassing on your dream. Sorry about that. Can you show me the way out?”  She shook her head. “Once you wander off the trail, it becomes a one-way street I’m afraid. I can’t take you to House Keeper. You’re the one connected to her, not I. However... I think I might be able to take you somewhere you’d want to go anyway.” “You’re... helping me?” She turned and smiled. “What can I say? I’ve had a good week.”