//------------------------------// // Chapter 35 // Story: Fine Print // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Tracy’s next few days of work weren’t good exactly, particularly with the weight of the flying manual in the back of his mind. Giselle had been clear about what would be happening during their next class—they’d be shoving him off a cliff. I probably should’ve been honest about my fear of heights. He couldn’t be the only one in a flying class who was afraid though, right? The others all lived in Equestria full time. They could’ve learned ages ago if something wasn’t stopping them.  He made sure to leave the book at home, so he wouldn’t be tempted to cram through it in his spare moments. It didn’t give him back perfect focus—any moment some detective might come through the doors asking questions about Shane. But none did—maybe Anton and Marshall had successfully escaped suspicion back in Ely. Or maybe nobody cares. Nobody would care if I went missing. The awkward meeting with Roseluck should’ve taken place that first night, giving them a chance to work out exactly what they’d just done, and what it meant for their relationship. But she wasn’t back yet when he woke for work. When he arrived after the first night, she was already gone—though she’d left a plate of oat cookies on the table for him. So there was something else for him to obsess over at work, along with mysterious potions, possibly falling to his death, and an investigation into Equestria that broke his contract, invoking who knew what curses on his head. Then Friday evening came, and he still hadn’t seen Rose. He wanted to rush home and follow her out to the flower stand if he had to, before his heart exploded with anxiety. But Janet stopped by his desk as work was winding down, waving weakly at him. “Great job this week, Tracy. Keep it up, and you’ll get right back on track. You going to O’Conner’s tonight?” Her tone made it clear what his answer had to be. He could only nod. Under other circumstances, he probably would’ve enjoyed it more. But he was running out of time, and still hadn’t made it halfway through the flying manual. There were plenty of interesting women—from his department, and others. His normal self would’ve used the time more productively. Even if he didn’t have much to offer now, that was changing rapidly. Soon he’d be something at Apex Technology.  But no matter how attractive they looked, he couldn't shake Rose from his mind. While he was out here, he couldn’t even articulate precisely what about her was so attractive. But the emotions were still there, ready to overflow his common sense as soon as he crossed into Equestria. She probably feels the same way about seeing me over here. He politely turned down the drinks, and the long wait or potential Uber delay to get his car that would follow. Once the others had stopped talking shop and started taking seconds and thirds from the bar, he excused himself.  It was close to midnight by the time he pulled up in front of his house, the real one this time. He didn’t expect Rose to be inside, and sure enough she wasn’t. She’d left him breakfast again—flowers this time, arranged into a friendly heart. Or maybe romantic, he couldn’t be sure. Ponies used little hearts for almost everything. He ate anyway, settling his stomach after a night of too many buffalo wings and ribs. He stared down at the flight manual, bookmark still perilously close to the table. He could force himself to stay up and keep reading. Between now and before they left for lunch in Canterlot, he might be able to finish it. Barnyard should have my Everwake by now. If I was ever gonna test it, might as well be the weekend. His hooves were dragging slightly as he left, but he managed. The brilliant sunlight of Ponyville helped, confusing his brain but also reminding him that it was time to be awake again. Instead of marching straight past the flower stand, he took the long way, dodging past the marketplace. I don’t want her first time seeing me after almost a week to be sweaty and exhausted. “Was wondering when we’d see you come in,” Filthy said, waving to him from the back counter. He rummaged around inside for a few moments, before hefting a pair of wooden crates attached by rough straps. They were divided in many sections, each one the right size for a little glass vial.  “Seems a little wasteful, doesn’t it?” he asked, stopping short of putting it over his back.  “Why, what do you mean?” Filthy punched a hole through his ticket, covering up the back cabinet with gray cloth to match the rest of the bland decor. “Barnyard Bargains prides itself on efficiency. It’s how we deliver ponies the lowest prices.” “This.” Tracy pointed at a vial with one wing. “Twenty-eight little glass bottles, and all this packaging to hold them. Doesn’t that seem wasteful?” “No,” Filthy said flatly. “Customers who order something like Everwake always come back for more. If you keep them in good condition, you return them with your next order for a hefty discount.” “Sure.” Tracy fiddled with the container a moment, fighting with the nails until he could pry off the lid. He removed a single vial with one of his hooves. The liquid inside swirled as black as night, with little flecks of lighter material sparkling whenever it caught the sunlight. It didn’t look particularly appetizing, but it wasn't much more to drink at a time than a dose of cough syrup. “But why not use one big bottle, and a measuring cup? I could pour my own, and just recycle the one bottle.” He hesitated. “You know, I don’t know why Potion Nova manages them that way. Might be a tad safer if ponies always get the exact amount, but… for a potion like this, they aren’t measured down to the drop anyway. Might have to look into that.” Tracy took the same circuitous route to get home as quickly as he could, conscious of the precarious arrangement of little vials packed with nothing more than bits of straw to protect them from shattering. Nopony reacted as he carried the potions home. He could only guess that meant they didn’t seem strange to the ponies of Equestria. No different from bringing home a prescription. Except this one can put me into a coma if I’m not careful. He half expected the entire description to be wrong, and the potions to be nothing more than a powerful stimulant. If so, he wouldn’t waste his time. He settled the vials on a shelf in his room, pushing a few stray books in the way so they wouldn’t be visible to passing observation. Just in case. But by the time he made it back it was late into the afternoon. He was better off not starting the process by distorting his schedule to halfway through the night. But maybe I can use them to keep off ordinary tiredness. Stay up late, take one instead of a coffee. If they actually work, it shouldn’t make much difference. He memorized as much as he could, but reading the basics of aerodynamics and various wing-positions was not helping him stay awake. At some point the words blurred together, and he collapsed onto the book in exhaustion. His phone alarm didn’t go off on Saturday mornings, so nothing forced him to wake up for the true day on his side. He slept as much as he could, but real sleep wasn’t magic. The closer he got to Equestrian midnight, the more he had to get up. It was a day to be daring—possibly his last, if flying went poorly. Tracy didn’t bother getting dressed in anything human today. His back legs felt a little strange without the usual not-socks, and his chest itched slightly without the vest, but that would probably pass. What was the point of getting dressed up if they didn’t provide modesty anyway? Rose’s bedroom door was shut now, so she had come back at some point. We’re gonna have to talk about this sooner or later, Rose. Are we dating or not? He glanced once towards the exit to his world—was there anything he should get done before going out with Rose today? There were a few members of his department who came into work on weekends—but it wasn’t crunch time. He doubted Janet would be expecting that, even if he had the option. He scooped up the book about thestral flight, and carried it to the couch facing Ponyville. He drew the blinds, revealing a dark sky smeared with stars. His flight book slipped through his wings, and Tracy just stared, momentarily awed by what he saw. Apparently Ponyville didn’t keep their streetlights on all night. Maybe this was why? It was a lot like home if he drove a few minutes out of town. Not like San Jose at all, where the sky was a perpetual amber smog of light pollution. But there was something different about these stars, or maybe just his eyes. They were so bright, in soft pastels of blue and white and yellow. He had to lean forward to see the moon high overhead, so bright he caught himself shielding his eyes with one leg. But that was pointless—he could stare right at it without discomfort. Bats are nocturnal in Equestria, right? What do we do, anyway? Until meeting Princess Luna’s guards, Tracy hadn’t ever talked to one. Apparently they had their own market in Canterlot, that stayed open while ponies slept. Does Ponyville have something like that? Tracy walked over to the door, nudging it open carefully with his muzzle. Unlike the human side, there weren’t any locks. He shivered once in a chill breeze, lifting his still-damp fur. But it wasn’t that bad yet. The ponies hadn’t “scheduled” fall to start in earnest for another week. Shouldn’t the streets be darker? There were a few lights glowing from homes, and each one was a little bonfire in the otherwise comfortable blue glow. Too bad I can’t see this well back on Earth. I’d never have to worry about running out of flashlight batteries on a camping trip again. Tracy didn’t have anywhere particular to go, precisely. It was at least one in the morning, maybe later. But if he had to stare at flight diagrams for another second, he would set himself on fire. Something moved in the sky overhead, a faint flutter against the rustling of leaves and the occasional creak of withered wood. He squinted a moment, and… there. Up over a warehouse, there were shapes perched on the roof. There were several dark blurs, which resolved into pony outlines as he approached. Their voices came through clearly even at a distance, as they spoke and laughed and talked. “No way they notice. Did you see how many trees there were? Millions, I reckon. What’s one apple from the crown? Earth pony who owns the place never even saw it growing.”  “It ain’t millions,” countered another, higher and more feminine. “Eight-hundred sixty-two. Less pears, I didn’t see them as clear.” “Don’t be melodramatic,” interrupted another voice, lower and sharper than the first two. “I left payment at the farmhouse, same as everywhere else.” Tracy was nearly at the building now. He slowed in his steps, suddenly conscious of one of the prime disadvantages of hooves. Unlike a pair of rubber sneakers, he broadcast every single step. “We can’t afford it, father,” said the first speaker. Now that Tracy was closer, he could see him clearly enough—a bat, not quite Tracy’s own size, with dark coat and wide wings. He wore a heavy cloth saddlebag over one shoulder, overflowing with lumps. He could smell the fruit even from here. There were only the two others, the largest settled on his haunches near the peak of the room, and the smaller female flitting between the two males. All had the same leathery wings, and slightly reflective eyes. Almost at once, they turned toward him. “Quiet,” the older hissed, his eyes narrowing towards his son. “You’ve made such a fool of yourself you woke the day ponies. We’ll have to find another perch.” He grumbled, spreading his wings, but the smaller one stopped him. “Wait,” she said. “No, father. He’s one of us, can’t you smell?” She practically bounced up into the air, arcing in a predatory dive straight for him.  He didn’t have a chance of getting away in time.