//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Shimmering Issues // Story: The Enforcer and Her Blackmailers (Enhanced & Augmented) // by scifipony //------------------------------// I was reading Understanding Pony Behavior, by Verbs and Crow Well, on a bench when I noticed Sunset Shimmer's approach in the corner of my eye. Yellow and red were hard to miss for anypony but a blind one. The page rustled as I turned it and asked, "Can you even see my magic?" "That's a stupid question. Say, that looks like a university textbook." "Yup," I said, snapping it closed and stretching in the warm sun I'd reclined in. "Ponies pay me for my work, thus I can afford to buy myself a little something special now and again." Vertebrae popped as I finished the stretch. I could taste a levitation spell reaching out to turn the book so she could read the title. I looked directly into her green eyes, startling her, watching her ghostly numbers fade from her aura. "Leviathan's Corollary, the third, not the second." "What?" "The algebra behind the magical maths powering the violation physics you're using to reach for the book." I lifted the book and held it between us. "Don't you see the numbers?" She blinked, blinked again. "I—" "You missed out on taking magic kindergarten; of course you did. Look, I understand you were living on the street, but this is fundamental." I scooted back on the bench and waved a hoof to invite her to join me. Soon we were like two face-to-face sphinxes, the book in my blue-green magic between us. She said, "Celestia placed me in the third grade." "So, she's not omniscient." "Cheeky filly." "My point is that in magic kindergarten, you learn to mimic the magic of your teacher by mirroring your teacher's numbers." "Numbers?" She tilted her head and her ears shifted forward. "Most children that age cannot yet generate numbers from equations. I couldn't." "You want me to cast magic like a foal?" "It's just another learning method; it would make it a lot easier to teach you. You certainly need it to defend yourself. The most powerful force spell is useless if someone burns you first." "You're talking combat magic!" "Didn't you ever face bullies—" Evident in the flash of her eyes was that she had, but had broken most of them. "When you're a foal, there comes a time when bullies learn to evaluate the magic you're using and how good it is before deciding whether or not it's safe to torture you. That is a skill acquired in magic kindergarten, not regularkindergarten. You want to continue being a high level unicorn? Learn to read other ponies' magic. Learn to read Princess Celestia's magic! Now that would change your life." It had mine. Simply glimpsing the evil princess' svelte numbers, so much more beautiful than she was physically, had inspired me to rewrite everything I understood about spell mathematics. That led me to formulate a series of alicorn simplification codicils. It had allowed me to cast Don't Look Don't See Don't Hear. I'd never have cracked Teleportwithout the epiphany that fateful day I'd barely escaped her notice. Yet... Sunset could cast that spell... "Fine," she said skeptically, impatience unmistakable in her tone. "Fine. Just stare at my magic. Try to sense what I'm doing." After a few minutes of her staring, trying sometimes with her eyes closed, sometimes leaning in— "I just see your aura." "That's good. It proves you're not magically blind. Keep looking… Let your eyes go unfocused…" This was becoming tiring. "Try to imagine how you would cast the spell yourself… You do see your own numbers, right?" "Ugh!" She had been working her own levitation spell like clay in her mind, not releasing it. I'd seen it fomenting in her aura. In an instant, prep complete, she grabbed the book and slammed it to the redwood slats of the bench so hard that the bang startled a passerby to whinny and caused the wood to groan. At least she was strong. She shouted in my face, "What do you mean by numbers?" "Well, that's a weird question. You know… bright, flaming, swirly, twirly, digity things that form a cloud in your head when you solve magical equations—?" "I. Don't. See. Numbers!" I sat up, taking my turn blinking in surprise. "I clearly sense the numbers swirling in your aura, and can get a good sense of the equations you were solving to modulate the magic pulse. You don't?" "You're obviously a freak." "I've read it's pretty commonplace, in fact—" I cracked the book, found Magic, visualization in the index, then flipped pages. "Look," I said pointing as I read, "'Some 90 percent of unicorns report seeing ghost images during spell casting. In modern times, magic users understand the phenomenon is stimulation of the visual and aural complexes of the brain by modulated magical energy. This was determined by the famous Bramble Wine Case where a pegasus pony was initially diagnosed as schizophrenic, but it was later determined that he could see the magic of the unicorns around him.' And here, '…usually takes the form of numbers.'" "I don't see numbers." She raised a hoof, "But I do see images. Light particles that swirl like snow flurries until they snap into a shape unique to a spell. Levitation is a dodecahedron. I know the spell is ready when they snap. I can control the spell intensity by rotating or pushing around the shape. I target by throwing it." "You are talented." "Don't insult—!" "—I'm not being sarcastic. I impressed! I guess for lack of a better paradigm, you invented your own. It's all very interesting. "At the practicum, my magical misfire burnt the base of my horn, and I guess I should reiterate how grateful I am that you took me to your father. He fixed something that would have left me little better than a weakling earth pony with a horn ornament. But, here's the interesting part. Disconnected from my horn, I could not sense magic or see auras. In fact, I could not do arithmetic at all; math just didn't want to make sense. But with it restored, I sensed the result of telling my horn to think for me, or better put, to calculate for me. The numeric feedback allows me to judge the results and apply transforms. I'm not sure how you would do that without numbers." "Pretty well, actually. Have you ever heard of geometry?" "You must practice your spells a lot, like learning dance steps I'd think, at least long enough to learn to make the shape and manipulate it effectively." She smiled. "Practice makes perfect. I practice whenever I'm alone. That was the purpose of your classroom exercises for the stun spell; the practicum makes sure you use the spell in a realistic setting." "Numbers are better. Take a look at this." I bounced off the bench to the middle of the brick sidewalk. Beds of red and white geraniums lined either side. I waited until there were no ponies around and cautiously prepped a very low power Barthemule-transformed force spell. "Ready, go." It again popped before I released it—as I said "go"—and with a tiny bit of inspiration, I continued to power it rather than generating an on-off bolt as I might during a fight. A sphere slowly grew out to three times my length in radius, pushing down the geraniums in its path and causing little pink butterflies to flutter away. Though it cracked some stems, most sprung back up when inside the sphere. Sunset Shimmer, mouth open, touched the magical surface, jerking back her hoof as if shocked. I felt a definite buzz in my head. The surface vibrated like a rubbery balloon. I found what seemed to be the radius numbers and applied a transform. The sphere shrunk, then popped audibly. Sunset Shimmer said, "Nice trick. A shield spell?" "Maybe. Don't know. That's a Barthemule transform applied to Force. That's the second time I've cast it." "Second— what? That's not possible." "Ask me to cast a standard illusion." I waved a hoof. "Now, that's not possible." Sunset Shimmer walked up to me, looked into my eyes, then glanced about my head, obviously reevaluating the double star "shaved" into the fur of my forehead, which wasn't growing back yet. She circled me, trampling the geraniums without a thought and surrounding me with their scent. She lingered on my blank flank, once on each side. "How old are you?" A bit too personally identifying for me, but I realized I didn't need to exaggerate much either. "Seventeenish." "You've gotta to be kidding me." I shrugged. "You're her age? And I suppose you read all the time?" "Any time I get the chance and can crack a book. I'm very nice to librarians." "You even sound like the runt, but at least you do magic! I've spied on her. She talks up theories, but when it comes to practice, I've yet to see her in action. She's usually in her tower, muzzle in a book. Our paths never cross. I guess creating a crack through earth and space-time all the way to Tartarus from Canterlot University is a good enough trick to make anypony acceptable as Celestia's protégé. I don't see the point if you don't produce. She's a one-trick pony, if you ask me." "Tartarus?" I asked. "Yes, that Tartarus. I went through the rift... well, because I had to, while Celestia wrestled the runt under control. Good thing, too. Sparkle's magic-storm blew through the security perimeter and some pretty ugly monsters escaped. Cerberus went missing for days." She described a combination of modern and stone fortifications built upon the craggy mountains in an ancient caldera—and, well, monstrous monsters. Apparently, if you could levitate a non-magical creature, you pretty much neutralized him. She spoke with a pained expression and I sensed she left out something substantial. Did it have to do with what "embarrassed" her the other day? I had heard of The Rift. To think that little purple somewhat goth-looking foal leaving Dr. Flowing Waters' office was my age! Princess Celestia certainly knew how to pick them. "So. Back to the bench. This time, concentrate and look at my magic until you see, uh, shapes. We'll work on turning it into numbers another day. Later, you'll teach me spell canceling..." As if. My half of the bargain turned out to be Sunset Shimmer finally becoming exasperated with the visualization exercise and, instead of teaching me to cancel, dragging me to a hay and herb bar for dinner—where I had a daisy and borage sandwich on Hooflyn corn rye, spread with lots of horseradish mustard—followed by her drinking herself drunk and forcing me to escort her home. It's funny how four legs aren't enough to steady a pony.