//------------------------------//
// The Following Morning (I) 
// Story: Our Equestria 
// by Nonagon 
//------------------------------//

	Growing up in Ponyville, many of the young ponies who’d gathered on the beach that night had found themselves in terrifying situations before. So close to both Canterlot and the Everfree Forest, Ponyville was known to periodically become the hotbed for all the dormant evils of Equestria. But no force, not the wildest creature or most destructive power, not even the cold, self-satisfied tones of the gods of cruelty and disorder, could inspire as much gut-wrenching fear in the miniature herd as Cheerilee’s words the following morning.

“My little ponies, I am very disappointed in you.”

All fifteen foals instinctively lowered their heads, trying to make themselves look as small as possible. They’d gathered around two tables in the hotel’s dining room for breakfast, which was sadly limited, as the violent shaking last night had left the kitchen in a state of shaken-up disorder. “And that goes for you too, Spike,” Cheerilee continued, catching the dragon with a slice of bread halfway to his already-full mouth. “Twilight Sparkle assured me that you would be able to handle a group of this size. I’m sure she will also have some choice words for you when we get back.”

Spike coughed and swallowed quickly, wiping crumbs from his mouth. “B-but it wasn’t our fault!” he protested.

“I don’t care whose fault it was. Leaving for the beach wasn’t only irresponsible, it was dangerous. Scarlet Kettle and I could hear the cliffs collapsing all the way from under her tent. If any of you had gotten lost or hurt, then...” Cheerilee looked to the side, biting her lip. Her expression shifted from concern to anger, then settled one one of weariness. “No, it’s my fault too,” she sighed. “I should have kept a closer eye on you. Clearly, it was wrong of me to think that you could handle being left on your own.”

“But we weren’t on our own,” a filly interrupted. “There was another mare with us.”

Cheerilee looked back at the table. “You didn’t mention that last night,” she said suspiciously.

“We’re sorry, miss Cheerilee,” Piña Colada continued. Her tail twitched as she felt the eyes of her classmates on her, but she kept her face an image of childlike innocence. “We were all really scared at the time. There was a unicorn mare running the game called Pollinia. She took us to a ring just outside the carnival for her game, and when the shaking started she teleported us the rest of the way to the beach. I think teleporting must have been her special talent or something; she had a weird zapping cutie mark. She didn’t know the cliffs were going to fall down. She was just trying to keep us safe.”

Cheerilee stared at her student for a few seconds more before speaking. “Is this true, Spike?” she asked the dragon at her side.

“Uh...” Spike gulped. In an instant, Piña Colada had gone from smiling sweetly at her teacher to glaring daggers at him. “Yeah. That’s what happened.”

“All right, then.” Cheerilee sighed a second time. “Even so, you gave a lot of us a good scare last night. I know that I taught you better than this. So as punishment, I’ve volunteered all of us to clean up the main streets after the disaster last night.” A stern glare quickly silenced the foals’ whine of protest. “Now, don’t complain. If you see the damage an earthquake can cause firsthoof, then maybe you’ll take it more seriously if, Celestia forbid, it happens again.”

There was a brief pause before another foal spoke. “But that wasn’t what happened,” Dinky Doo said. She trembled as Cheerilee looked at her, but continued. “There never was an earthquake. There was a giant unicorn fighting a giant spider, and their fighting made the ground shake. And... and we got to ride one of them.”

Cheerilee blinked. There was a long, silent pause before she blinked again. Slowly, she leaned down and whispered in her temporary assistant’s ear. “Spike, I thought I told you to watch her sugar intake.” She straightened up, smiling sweetly as Dinky’s face fell. “That’s nice, Dinky,” she said. “We’ll talk more about that after breakfast, okay?” She looked around at the rest of the table. “Eat up, everypony. I want us to be out the door in half an hour.” With a little more spring in her step than before, the teacher trotted away to the other side of the room for some much-needed coffee.

Dejectedly, Dinky Doo flicked a flattened grape across her plate. “That was what happened,” she huffed. “Piña, why did you lie?”

“Why didn’t you?” the earth pony snapped back. “Those cliffs were what made Seaddle famous. Do you have any idea how much trouble you guys are gonna be in if anypony finds out you broke them?”

“What do you mean, us guys?” Diamond Tiara retorted. “You were there too.”

“Nuh-uh.” Piña Colada shook her head. “I never signed up for any game. I just got dragged along anyway. Pinchy, I told you you shouldn’t have played!” She punched her niece lightly on the shoulder. Berry flinched, but said nothing.

The other foals at the table looked at each other, still uncertain. “It’s not so bad,” Scootaloo said. “I mean, we still have a giant pony we can ride around in. Maybe we could use it to help fix things up. That’s got to be worth something, right?”

“All right, think about this,” Piña Colada continued, undeterred. “There was probably somepony who lived in that lighthouse. Maybe two ponies. Maybe a whole family. What do you think will happen to us if somepony learns they got squished because of your stupid game? Do you think putting the cliffs back is gonna make up for that?”

There was a longer pause as the group absorbed this. “Ah feel sick,” Apple Bloom moaned. Her friends put hooves on her shoulders to steady her, though their faces were similarly contorted.

“You don’t...” Peachy Pie gulped. “You don’t really think this is just a game, do you?”

“How should I know?” Piña Colada shrugged. “That’s your problem. All I know is that somepony’s gotta look after you all. That can be my game.”

The pink pony fell silent as Cheerilee came back to the table, coffee in hoof. Though questions and ill feelings burned through the group, they remained quiet for the rest of breakfast.


---


The damage to Seaddle wasn’t as bad as the foals had feared. The town was clearly built to survive earthquakes; the houses were low and strong, made to last. The carnival folk, however, had not been so lucky. Virtually all of their flimsy tents had collapsed, doing no permanent damage but leaving the streets a tangle of metal poles and fancy fabric. Though no longer sparkling, the giant ferris wheel still rose high above the rooftops; ironically, the trembling had caused several levers and struts to jam in place, actually preventing the mighty structure from being taken down.

While larger ponies picked up tents and arranged their broken wares, Cheerilee’s visiting class found themselves moved to a different part of town. A large food cart had rolled off its blocks and down a nearby hill, spilling foodstuffs and cutlery all over the road before crashing into an unlucky stallion’s vegetable garden. The foals roamed over this minor disaster area with brushes and garbage bags, some motivated by an uneasy feeling of responsibility, others slowed down by it. “Watch out for splinters, everypony,” Cheerilee advised, pushing a pile of popcorn down the middle of the street with a thick broom. “And don’t eat anything. That means you, Snails!” she added, chuckling to herself as the colt quickly swallowed and smiled sheepishly.

Around halfway through their work, the group’s silence was broken by the sound of two sets of hooves galloping towards them. Just as the assembled ponies were starting to look up, a white and elderly pegasus darted around the nearest corner, nearly colliding with Cheerilee. “Help me!” he hissed, then awkwardly dove behind a bush.

A short and plump earth pony trotted out from the same direction, panting heavily. “Sea Salt, stop scaring the foals!” she yelled, spotting her quarry’s wings jutting out from the low shrubbery. She turned to Cheerilee and smiled wearily. “I’m so sorry about this,” she apologized. “He does this every time we have a quake.”

Cheerilee smiled back. “Hello again, Ocean Breeze,” she said, recognizing Seaddle’s mayor. “I suppose this happens a lot, then?”

“She’s just trying to keep the truth down!” Sea Salt yelled, raising a hoof high but keeping his head low.

Ocean Breeze rolled her eyes. “For the last time, Sea Salt, nopony else saw any monsters!”

Several foals paled. “Of course you didn’t!” the pegasus yelled, pointing wildly. “Because you were too busy hiding under tables to look! A real pony outflies danger!”

The two grown mares looked at each other, each silently noting the other’s lack of wings. “Just ignore Sea Salt, little ones,” the mayor called, injecting some cheerfulness into her voice. “He says funny things sometimes.”

Nodding, Cheerilee approached the bush and bent down. “Mister Salt?” she said. “I understand that this is important to you, but I’m afraid you’re frightening my students. Isn’t there somepony else you could be telling this to?”

Slowly, the old pony raised his head. “Barnacles,” he muttered. “Barnacles will know.” As calmly as if nothing had happened, he rose up and trampled his way out of the bush, walking slowly in the direction of the mane street. Ocean Breeze tried to lead him along, but was roughly nudged aside with a wing. “I can walk, missy,” the stallion said indignantly. Ocean Breeze tutted.

“Miss mayor?” Apple Bloom darted up and tugged on the plump mare’s leg. “We, um, Ah was wondering... was there anypony inside the lighthouse when it got... Ah mean, when the earthquake happened?”

Ocean Breeze smiled down at the filly comfortingly. “Now, dear, don’t worry about that,” she said. “The pegasus ponies who run the lighthouse live in town. They’re all safe and sound, never fear.” Apple Bloom smiled brightly, sighed with relief, then scampered back to join her friends. With a wave, the mayor turned and trotted after the still-rambling Sea Salt.

Sensing that her students were still staring, Cheerilee clapped loudly. “Back to work, everypony!” she announced. With a faint groan, the assembled foals returned to clearing the debris from the runaway cart. Their teacher joined them, sweeping larger pieces together into a pile. Unconsciously, however, her ears swiveled to catch Sea Salt’s words as he drifted away.

“Black as the night sky, they were. See, I always told you spiders could get that big...”

Cheerilee froze. She rested her broom against her shoulder and looked towards the main street, a question half-formed on her lips. She blinked a few times and glanced around, stopping when her eyes landed on Dinky Doo. She did a double-take and frowned. “Dinky Doo! I told you to leave your toys at the hotel!”

“Huh?” The tiny unicorn put down a mouthful of discarded candies and looked up at her teacher, lower lip trembling. “But I did...”

“Then what do you call that?” Cheerilee pointed to a plastic mouse that was leaning against the garden fence. “Go and put it away.” Before the filly could protest, Cheerilee sighed. “Actually, wait. Spike, take over.” She pushed her broom towards Spike, who caught it with a confused expression. “I need to...” Cheerilee paused, glancing towards the main street. “Just stay here, okay? I’ll just be a few minutes.” Still distracted, she turned away and broke into a slow trot in the direction Sea Salt had gone, increasing her speed as soon as she thought her students were no longer watching.

Dinky Doo stared at the mouse. While around her her classmates shrugged to one another and started to talk, she crept over to the discarded toy and picked it up in her hooves. The body was fat and pear-shaped and made from white plastic, with tiny black eyes and a painted-on smile. It had no arms or legs, only two large, round ears and a flat tail that dangled beneath its body. The only colours on it were two splashes of pink on its cheeks and, bizarrely, a short and pony-like mane that ran across its top and back like a stripe of green. Dinky Doo turned it over once before staring down at its face, frowning. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Cicada,” the mouse answered.

The other foals looked up as Dinky Doo screamed. She threw herself backwards, releasing the mouse, which hung motionless and unsupported in the air. “So you really are just foals,” the plastic shape continued without moving its mouth, slowly rising. The voice that came from it was calm and male, silencing the ponies around it with an air of confident authority. “I’d hoped that Pollinia was exaggerating. Oh, well. Can’t be helped. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

There was a flash and a sound like tearing paper, and suddenly the street was empty.


---


This time, the jump was instantaneous. With a faint ‘wop’ the ponies and dragon materialized in a familiar dome-shaped room. The many chairs had vanished, and the amber walls seemed darker than they had the previous night. The plastic mouse floated overhead, slowly rotating in place. “All right, my little ponies!” it said, the small voice somehow filling the chamber. “Welcome back.”

The group regarded the strange figure with more curiosity than fear; after last night, a talking toy didn’t seem all that surprising. “What is that?” Sweetie Belle asked, staring up in awe. “How’s it floating?”

The mouse swooped down with greater speed than seemed possible, hovering uncomfortably close to Sweetie Belle’s face. “You mean, who is that and how is he floating,” he said sternly. “I have not come all this way to be talked down to by a little filly.”

Sweetie Belle backed up. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

"I recognize you," Rumble said after a moment's thought. "You were with Pollinia before, just for a second. Are you her helper or something?"
 
"Helper?" The mouse turned to face him and hovered a moment in silence. He chuckled, wobbling back and forth slightly. "Yes, I imagine she would call me that. Incorrectly, since now that the game has been set in motion, she has far less power than I do. In that sense, it would be more accurate to think of us as... partners."

“You’re with her?” Spike paled, clutching at his head in panic. “Oh man. This can’t be happening.”

The mouse tilted slightly to the side. “If this is a bad time—”

“Of course it’s a bad time!” the dragon yelled. “We’re already in trouble from the last time this happened! Cheerilee’s gonna come back any second now, and if she sees we’re not there she’ll think we ran away again, and then she’ll tell Twilight, and, and—”

There was a faint wop as Spike vanished. Seen from the outside, the teleportation looked like a swift bubble of light, without the flash that usually accompanied unicorn magic. The ponies around him shrieked and jumped away. When the dragon returned a second later, he was pale and trembling. “Sorry about that,” the mouse said calmly. “You looked like you needed some air. Did you enjoy the view?”

Spike said nothing. He didn’t move as the plastic shape floated closer to him, calmly speaking. “This isn’t a battle. I only brought you here so that we could speak without interruptions. I’m keeping track of your teacher, and we have plenty of time for these preliminaries before she returns, at which point I’ll send you back.” When Spike started to protest again, the bizarre mouse swooped down and hung in front of his face. “You have my word,” he said. “If it will ease your mind, when I bring you back I’ll even move some trash around to make it look like you’ve been working. Does that satisfy you?” Nervously, Spike nodded. “Good. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can return.”

“So... who are you, exactly?” Tornado Bolt asked.

In response, the mouse rose up to his former position, hovering over the group. “My name is Cicada. It is my job—”

“Cicada?” Silver Spoon interrupted. “Like, the bug? Eww!” She gagged. “Why does everything here have to be something icky?”

Cicada paused. His painted smile gave away nothing, though a faint sigh could be heard. “My job,” he repeated pointedly, “is to transport the pilots—that’s you—to and from the cockpit as needed, as well as move the robot itself to battles and perform maintenance on its internal systems.”

“Row... bot?” Archer frowned. “What’s a robot?”

“It’s where you are right now.” Archer stared blankly. Cicada also stared blankly, though presumably he had no say in the matter. “The unicorn. The metal machine. Pollinia’s warrior. Get it?”

“Oh.” Archer looked around. “So it’s not a magical construct?”

“Not by your definition, no.”

“And it’s not a golem?” Apple Bloom added, sounding disappointed.

“No.” Cicada looked around. "While we’re on the subject, are there any questions?"
 
A few seconds passed. Slowly, Sweetie Belle raised her hoof. Dinky Doo followed. Slowly, hoof after hoof went up. “Does this look like a classroom?” Cicada muttered.
 
Apple Bloom cleared her throat. "So, where are y'all from exactly?" she said.
 
“Is there some kind of reward for doing this?” Tornado Bolt asked.
 
“Is everything in this game going to be so gross?” Diamond Tiara added.
 
“Whoa, whoa,” Cicada said, floating a little higher as more ponies continued to raise their hooves.
 
"How are you floating?"

“How does the robot work?”

“Are we really saving the world?”
 
"Can we go now?"
 
"Stop. Stop!" Cicada looked around at the ponies surrounding him, then did a slow flip backwards. "I meant, are there any questions pertaining to the nature of battles or function of the robot?" He twirled around again, taking in the sea of blank faces around him. "Honestly, didn't Pollinia tell you anything?" he added in a low voice.
 
Peachy Pie raised her hoof. "I have a question," she said. "If we don't want to play any more, can we... drop out?"
 
"No can do," Cicada said instantly. With surreal agility he flew over to hover in front of Peachy Pie's face, only his dangling tail moving. "You signed the contract, didn't you?" he said as the filly leaned backwards. "You have to keep your promises. Once you're in, you're in for good."
 
"But this isn't what we signed up for!" Peachy protested, shuffling away. "We thought we were going to be playing with toys, not... this!"
 
"Not my problem," the mouse retorted. Had he shoulders, Peachy Pie was certain that he would have shrugged. "Explaining the rules was Pollinia's job. I'm just here to enforce them."
 
"But you can't forthe uth to fight!" Twist said. She lowered her head as Cicada turned to face her. "...Can you?" she asked meekly.
 
"Well, no." Cicada twirled. "If you choose not to fight when your turn is up, I can't make you. Heck, you don't even have to show up. But once your opponent arrives, the robot will activate whether or not you're at the helm, and it can only run for two days at most. If the battle isn't ended by then, it overloads, and..." He tutted. "Well, let's just say your escape will have been short-lived."
 
Spike frowned as he saw a few ponies around him shudder. "Uh... this is just a game, right?" he said.
 
"What?" Cicada faced the dragon, then tilted slightly to the side. "Of course it's a game."
 
 Spike didn’t seem convinced. “But why—”
 
"All right, time’s up." Cicada rose up to the ceiling, rapidly becoming a tiny white dot against the amber surface. "Time for a little redecorating."
 
Wop. Wop. Wop.
 
With a tiny popping noise and a brief bubble of light, a short, wooden chair materialized in the cockpit. Apple Bloom gasped, her eyes widening with recognition. A second later a three-legged stool appeared beside it, which gave Archer the same reaction. Then came a green bean bag chair, a bench, a dining chair, continuing blink after blink until the group was surrounded. "Each of these should have some significance to one of you," Cicada explained, his voice remaining at the same volume despite the distance.
 
Hesitantly, Apple Bloom approached the first chair that had appeared. She reached out and touched the edge of the varnished wood, still staring in disbelief. "This is mah chair," she said. "This is mah chair, from Sweet Apple Acres. How'd you know it was mine?"
 
"Oh, I know everything about you," Cicada said dismissively. "It's part of the contract." He paused as Apple Bloom frowned up at him, then sighed. "Don't worry, it's only a copy. Try not to think about it too hard, okay?"
 
Gradually, the group broke apart as each foal identified and ran to their own chair. Side by side in one corner were three small clouds, floating less than an inch above the floor. "Gee, wonder who those are for," Archer muttered to herself, then did a double take as Rumble walked to the other side of the circle and pulled himself into a plastic folding chair. She looked back, her jaw dropping as Scootaloo and Tornado Bolt stared in confusion at the unicorn now perched on the cloud in between them. "Dinky? How are you doing that?"
 
Dinky Doo giggled. She reached down beneath her and knocked; the cloud echoed as her hoof hit something solid. "There's a stool under here," she explained. "My mom made it for me. Now I can sit on a cloud too, just like her."
 
"Ugh, this is so unfair," Diamond Tiara whined from her fancy dining chair. "I wanted to sit next to Silver Spoon!"
 
"Speak for yourself," Spike muttered. His seat, a copy of one from the library, was stuck between the identical pair owned by Snips and Snails, who couldn't seem to agree whose was whose.
 
"There is no switching seats," Cicada snapped. "The order's random. There's nothing I can do." He rapidly descended again, hovering over the final two fillies in the middle of the circle. "Well?"
 
Reluctantly, Berry Pinch broke away from her aunt's side and went to the last unclaimed seat, a familiar stool from the schoolhouse. Pina Colada glared up at Cicada. "What am I supposed to do, then?" she asked testily. "Why am I even here? I didn't sign up for any stupid game."
 
"Oh? I apologize." Cicada floated down to eye level. "You seemed to be quite close to your niece. Since you were there when she signed the contract, I had assumed that you would want to be present for the battles. If you want, I can send you back."
 
Pina Colada eyed the mouse suspiciously. She glanced at Berry Pinch, who was looking away from her. "I'll stay," she said. She looked around at the others. Peachy Pie clearly had room for one more, occupying a park bench clearly built for two adults, but when she saw Pina's gaze on her she shuffled into the middle.
 
"You can sit with me," Silver Spoon offered. Her chair was an enormous grey loveseat with a cushion so plush that the filly seemed to be sinking into it. She gulped as Diamond Tiara glared at her, but still shuffled over to make room for a second pony. Pina Colada nodded gratefully and hopped up beside her.
 
"Finally," Cicada sighed. "Now, stand up."
 
"But we just sat down!" Scootaloo whined.
 
"Trust me, you'll want to stand up for this." As Cicada finished speaking, the circle of chairs began to move. Those who hadn't done so already quickly hopped off as the seats picked up speed, moving silently and frictionlessly clockwise over the floor. They spun faster and faster, creating a hum of displaced air that quickly turned into a roar. In seconds the chairs were moving fast enough that they could no longer be followed with the naked eye. At the same time, a brightly glowing symbol appeared on the floor, a shape made of circles and twisting lines too complex to take in all at once. One tendril of lights snaked away from the rest, ending beneath the whirling ring in a circle just large enough for a chair to fit inside. After a few more seconds of spinning, the ring began to slow.
 
“I get it,” Archer said quietly. “It’s like a roulette, right?”
 
Cicada didn’t answer. He watched in silence as the fifteen seats continued to wind down, losing speed almost as quickly as they’d picked it up. In seconds the circle had come almost to a halt, each chair almost stopping over the ring of light before sliding soundlessly off. It passed Sweetie Belle’s sewing stool, then Silver Spoon's loveseat, before finally coming to a halt on the rightmost of the three clouds.
 
Scootaloo blinked. “Huh?” She turned around and looked up and down, as if expecting to see someone standing over her shoulder. “Did somepony just call my name?”
 
“Your teacher’s coming back,” Cicada said flatly, not looking at the pegasus. “I’ll send you back now. See you soon.”
 
Scootaloo looked up. “Hey, wa—”
 
There was a flash, and a sound like tearing paper.
 
“—it.”
 
In an instant of static, the group found themselves back on Seaddle’s street. True to his word, Cicada had moved some of the clutter into their garbage bags, as well as, for some reason, Snips. The colt emerged gasping and spluttering from one of the bags just as Cheerilee rounded the nearest corner, a look of deep thought on her face. “Sorry about that, everypony,” she said, glancing around at her students. “There was just something I had... to...” She trailed off as her eyes landed on Scootaloo. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped, putting a hoof to her mouth before breaking into a gigantic smile.
 
“What?” Scootaloo looked around. The others were starting to stare at her as well, their faces a mix of surprise and confusion. She raised her wings and looked down at herself, frowning. “What is it? Do I have something on me?”
 
“Ah’ll say you do,” Apple Bloom said, excitement mixing with the shock in her voice. “Scootaloo, you got your cutie mark!”
 
The pegasus looked back. Her eyes widened. Printed on her flank was a strange pattern of white lines: one circle surrounded by eight smaller ones, all touching at the edges. Like Pollinia’s it was only an outline, with no colour or fill within it. She stared at this for a moment, checked both flanks, and even rubbed it to make sure it was real. The mark stayed.
 
Several thoughts rushed through the filly’s mind at once. She knew, deep down, that this wasn’t her real cutie mark. It had nothing to do with her special talent; it was just some of Pollinia’s magic printed on her side. It probably wouldn’t even last after her turn was done. But for now, that didn’t matter. The feel of having a mark on her flank, of having a defined purpose, filled her heart with a proud fire. She was going to ride the robot. She was going to save the world.

Clearly, there was only one way to react to this.

With a well-practiced sweep, Scootaloo tossed her mane back and flared out her wings, stomping happily in a way that a certain other pegasus would find strangely familiar. “Aww, yeah!”