Celestial Mechanics
Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day

It's a beautiful day
Sky falls, you feel like
It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away

- U2, 'Beautiful Day'

The Journal of Twilight Sparkle.
Volume #5, Entry #96.
Clovius 23rd, 1006 AB.
10:13 AM.

Last night was very late, and I find myself lying in bed this morning with a very large mug of coffee and a lingering feeling that I should still be asleep. I overslept my alarm by almost seventy-two minutes, but thanks to Spike, breakfast was already cooking when I woke. It smells delicious.

I feel a bit guilty about leaving him to attend to all the housework unassisted, but my studies have been too demanding of late for me to help. Fortunately, I was extremely productive yesterday and have cleared several items from my to-do list, meaning that both of us can look forward to a much lighter workload in the near future (see Twilight Sparkle's To-Do list, Volume #8 for a complete summary).

Perhaps I'll find some time to read some of the new novels we've gotten in for the library. It bothers me that we have works in our collection that I haven't personally sampled yet. Besides, I have to admit they looked rather intriguing. I also ought to go visit with my friends one of these days – it's been almost three weeks since I last had a night out with the girls.

First things first, I need to get out of bed and have breakfast. Spike's yelling something about my food getting cold. I guess the journalling can wait for later.

One last thing: shortly after falling asleep last night, I was woken by what sounded like an intruder on my bedroom balcony. I went out to investigate, but there was nopony there. Must have been the wind. . .

I tossed the journal towards my bedside table, where it landed with a thump amongst a large collection of empty mugs and balled-up notepaper. Thump.

Sitting up in bed, I surveyed my room. Books and scrolls covered most of the floor, mingling with the dust bunnies and chip crumbs that had accumulated over the last few weeks. The walls were no better: charts and graphs practically wallpapered the entire room, sloppily annotated in red ink. My prized periodic table poster (a gift from my brother) could barely be seen from its position below a lengthy list of the residents of Ponyville sorted by mane colour. A pile of electronic parts crackled and sparked in the corner, singing the curtains. The smell of burning polyester mingled with the odour of rotting food and old books to provide a...unique sensory experience.

I sighed, looking over at my dragon egg alarm clock. 10:19. Ugh. It was well past time for me to get up. Even if I had finished my bigger projects last night, there were still plenty of things to get done today.

Like cleaning my room. The thought made me cringe, but it was clearly a top priority.

I yawned as I stretched my forelegs over my head, shifting over in an effort to get more comfortable. Something sharp poked me in the plot.

“Ow!” I jerked away from the unexpected pain, almost spilling my coffee. Reaching under the covers with my magic, I caught hold of the object and brought it out for a closer inspection.

Sigma-Eldrich '02-'03 catalogue. “Handbook of fine alchemical ingredients”

That felt better. I sipped my coffee and settled back into my nest of pillows, closing my eyes. The down pillows were so soft and cozy. . .

“Twi-iilight!” Spike shouted from somewhere below me. “If you aren't down here in ten seconds, you don't get any breakfast! I mean it!”

Leaving the bundle of cutlery on the table, I trotted over to the foyer and flipped the wall-mounted lever that controlled the security forcefield that spanned the library doorframe. The control panel beeped, and the crystal display flashed the usual message in letters of glowing green:

With a hiss of dissipating magic, the thin pink membrane evaporated, revealing the ordinary wooden door outside. I had to admit, it looked a lot better without the shield, even to a technophile like myself. The sterile steel and bright lights just didn't match with the rustic design of the rest of the house.

It works. That's all that matters, I reminded myself as I opened the door. A familiar pink and yellow pegasus stood outside.

“Oh! H-hi Twilight.” She sounded surprised to see me, for some reason. “Does this mean you've finished that important project you were working on for Princess Luna?”

“So, what brings you to the library today?” I asked. “Would you like to borrow a book?”

“Um, no. I came to ask you if you wanted to come for a picnic with me and the other girls.” She twirled a lock of pink hair around her hoof. “-If you aren't too busy, of course.”

A picnic? The idea was tantalizing. The question was whether I could afford to take the time off to recreate; my room wasn't going to clean itself, and who knew when I might get another day off to deal with it.

I levitated my To-Do list over from the kitchen, and glanced at its contents. It was far fuller than I remembered. Twenty-seven different tasks required completion today, twenty-eight if I counted an hour of General Literature Study (novel reading). Calculations would be required to maximize recreational opportunity.

My quill scratched over the sheet, quickly sorting activities into groups. Daylight should last until about 7:15 PM. . . I summed the total time required for all activities, then started to subtract one at a time as I slotted them into the timetable. Allowing for travel time (assuming good weather). . . Hmm, perhaps putting the basement cleaning after the book reshelving would help. Factoring in bowel movements (assuming adequate fibre intake). . .

“Twilight?” Fluttershy asked, a look of concern in her eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Wha-?” I started back to attention. “Yeah, it's fine. . .I think.” I quickly finished the calculations, and backed off to examine the results.

I was a solid hour short, probably more. And that was if I cut the novel-reading. How would I break it to her?

“Um,” Now I was starting to sound like Fluttershy. “I don't think I have enough time for a picnic. Why don't you guys just go without me? We can hang out later or something, maybe go out for coffee or- or. . .” I trailed off as I looked up.

The cutest, most pathetic puppy dog eyes in Equestria stared back at me. Her great green orbs snagged my purple ones, and held them tight in a slightly moist grip of death. I became rooted to the spot, paralyzed by cuteness as The Stare invaded my very soul. Ack!

How was I supposed to deal with this? My schedule can't repel cuteness of that magnitude!

“I-I have work to do! I can't! Lots of work!” I stammered, unable to escape the power of Fluttershy's gaze. My legs were beginning to shake.

“That's okay, I don't mind. . .” She trailed off, her voice cracking slightly. Long-lashed eyelids blinked away a lonesome tear.

“N-n – Aaugh!!” I fell to my knees. “Yes! I'll come! Please, I want to go! I'd love to go!” I blubbered as I slid down the doorstep. “Just stop looking at me like th-!”

A shockingly loud bouncing sound cracked (sprung?) through the air. Now it was Fluttershy's turn to scream and fall. A large piece of pink mane had exploded out of my mailbox, bursting through the little door at the front, and seeping through the small crannies at the back.

“P-pinkie? What in Equestria were you doing in my mailbox?!” I struggled back to my hooves, as Fluttershy did the same. “How in Equestria did you get in my mailbox?”

The earth pony merely smiled, wagging her hoof at me. “Now now, that's Auntie Pinkie's little secret.” She noded sagely. “And it wouldn't be a secret if I explained it, would it?”

Whatever. “Were you watching us the whole time?” I asked, a little disturbed by the idea.

“Yup!” She waved a hoof in my general direction. “And so was everypony else!” She bounced to face one of the bushes near the door. “ You can come out now, guys!”

Three heads popped out of the shrubbery. Two wore hats: an old Stetson and some frilly thing with flowers and wax fruit. The third head was bare, but the uniquely spiked rainbow mane left little doubt as to the identity of its owner.

“Applejack! Rarity! Rainbow Dash! You were all hiding here this whole time?!” I shouted at them. “Why?”

Rarity was the first to come up with an answer. “Why not, darling? It's just for fun.” She blew a leaf from her nose as she stepped dantily from the bush.

I was confused now. “You, of all ponies, thought it'd be fun to hide in the shrubbery? I can see Rainbow wanting to, but you? Why send Fluttershy to the door alone?”

Suddenly, it all clicked. “You sent Fluttershy because you knew she could guilt me into coming, right? You knew I'd try to refuse the picnic.”

“Eeep!” Fluttershy covered her head with her hooves in embarrassment. “I'm s-sorry!”

I stared as coldly as I could at the five of them. “Well, it's not going to work! I'll go for the picnic because I promised I would, but as soon as it's done I'm gonna go back inside to study and clean stuff on my own. All. Night. Long.”

“Er-” Applejack cleared her throat loudly. “Listen, Twi, you don't have to come if you really don't want to.” Rarity and Rainbow Dash looked at her, then back at me, nodding their heads in somber agreement. Fluttershy said nothing, still cowered in a tiny ball by the doorstep.

“Hey!” exclaimed Pinkie. “I have an idea – we'll ALL help you! It'll be a Pinkie Pie library cleaning party!”

“Aw shucks, why not?” Applejack said. “It'll be like when y'all helped me with the apple harvest that year Mac was laid up with them broken ribs!”

The other two nodded their agreement. Fluttershy was back standing, her eyes as bright as if nothing had happened.

“Well, Twilight, what'cha say?” Applejack reached out a hoof to me. “Deal?”

My eyes wandered over the expectant smiles of all my friends. Slowly but surely, my expression morphed to match theirs.

The Journal of Twilight Sparkle.
Volume #5, Entry #97.
Clovius 23rd, 1003 AB.
7:35 PM.

What a great day! I don't think I've had that much fun in. . .I don't know how long. My friends all pitched in together to get my work done this morning, then the six of us went down to the Saddle River for a picnic and some polo. Applejack and Pinkie joined forces to prepare a delicious feast, and Fluttershy found the most heavenly little meadow tucked deep in the Ghastly Gorge. It was impressively private; we didn't see another soul the entire time. On top of that, the weather was spectacular. Not a cloud in the sky (and Rainbow took it upon herself to make sure it stayed that way). I honestly can't believe how nice it was – last time I stepped outside there was still snow on the ground. Of course, AJ was quick to point out that there hasn't been any for a few weeks now.

Anyways, it was great to hang out with my friends and relax after the hectic pace of the last fifteen days. That report on leyline mining for Princess Luna took up an unbelievable amount of my time. I don't get why she was so insistent it be done so quickly - it's a very poorly developed technology, and for that matter, mostly theoretical. While the prospect of extracting magical energy directly from the environment without a spellcasting device or a unicorn involved is truly exciting, the number of practical problems involved means nopony will be able to put it to use anytime soon. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt.

At least it's done now, and I can now enjoy my hard-earned (and generously given) free time. I think I'll go sit outside and read one of my new novels in the twilight.

The balcony's double doors swung open, wrapped in the magenta hue of my telekinetic grasp as I stepped out into the evening. My journal and the new book floated securely over my back, and behind them hung a comfortable beanbag chair and a blanket – all kept weightless by the force of my magic.

I eased the doors closed, and set the items down one by one upon the polished wood decking. A slight breeze ruffled my mane, and I noted with pleasure that the air was still gloriously warm even though the sun was all but gone. I looked to the west where the last rays of daylight burned through the horizon, colouring the sky in vivid hues of orange and red. Not a cloud was visible anywhere. Only a few streams of smoke from the factories lingered to mar the heavens, and on an evening as incredible as this one, even they could be overlooked.

Rainbow's crew really outdid themselves today, I thought as I nestled into the comfy chair. It's beautiful out here, absolutely beautiful.

If only I took more time to appreciate it. Too often my studies caused me to lose track of the things that really mattered, things like friends and the beauty of the world we live in. Time and time again, I become lost in the minutiae of scientific observation, and completely miss the larger reality of the systems I am studying, the sheer beauty of the everyday phenomena that surround us.

See? There I go again, classifying, analyzing. Systems. Phenomena. That's the language of science – the language of detachment. I have no lack of detachment. My mind is innately clinical, scientific, distant. Unlike ponies like Fluttershy or Pinkie Pie who are in touch with their feelings, I always have to take care to let in the wonder of life.

I hadn't been doing that lately. My life was spent cooped up in the library, studying and writing mere symbols of reality: the equations of mathematics, the syllables of names. The irony of not going outside for a week while writing a report on cloud formation (as I did this week) was not lost on me, it just sometimes took far too long for me to come to my senses and pay attention to it.

I looked upwards, noting how the red light of the setting sun made the already vibrant greens of the emerging leaves seem even richer. Their colour was almost fluorescent – almost artificial – but with an organic quality that even the best dyes could not match.

The jacket featured an impressionistic painting of two mares in fancy dresses looking out over Canterlot from a building I assume was intended to be the Tower of The Moon. It was hard to be sure. The whole design was completely wrong – from the railing (too many fancy spindles, not enough smooth stone) – to the floor (late Silkhorn period octagonal floor tiles clashed sharply with with the narrow wedges of Neo-Geometric columns. Evidently the artist had never seen the real thing.

Well, it wasn't winning any points for accurate illustrations, but I'm not one to judge a book by its cover. I wondered who wrote it. Perhaps I was familiar with their other works.

Love Droplet?? I was getting concerned. With a name like that, the chances of quality literature plummeted sharply. The best I could hope for was sappy romance; the worst, well. . .

I'd have to try it to find out. Silently dreading what might be inside, I flipped to the twenty-first page.

. . .”Is this what you want?” Rosebud whispered in her lover's ear as she rubbed the jewelled staff in circles against the sensitive fur of her underbelly.
“Yes, give it to me! Please!”
“What did you say?”
The younger pony squirmed with anticipation of a release that was far too long in coming. She looked up, her eyes round and pleading. “Please, Captain Rose. I need it.”
Rosebud only smirked, revelling in the sight of her tormented lover. She wanted it to last forever, but the heat in her own body was now too great to wait any longer.
“You've been a bad princess.” She scolded, her voice low and husky with desire. “You don't deserve this, but since you asked so nicely. . .”
With a deft movement, she thrust the staff forward and down. The younger mare gasped as the thick shaft entered her throbbing m-

Yup, full-on literary porn. I really hoped Spike hadn't actually read it before choosing it for me.

With a sigh, I set it aside. I wanted quality literature right now, something that would make me think. Something deep and thoughtful, something that had substance but was entertaining at the same time. Not some smutty “romance”.

Sure you don't, not now. But later, when you're alone in bed tonight – just you, the book and your right hoof. . . said a voice from some deep corner of my mind.

I blushed, and pushed the book further away. Stupid sexual urges. I wouldn't entertain them. There was so much else for me to do without having to worry about satisfying some instinctual drive to reproduce. It didn't even make sense.

You're attracted to mares, Twilight. Of course it doesn't make sense. It doesn't have to.

I looked away from the book, inspecting the balcony to distract myself. The railing could use repainting, probably this summer would be about right. I made a mental note to add it to my long-term checklist when I got back inside. I should prune some of the lower tree branches as well – as pretty as they were now with their bright green buds, they'd be blocking my view by the end of the year.

Turning around, I started to inspect the house side. The living tree eliminated the need for large-scale painting, but there was always room for little touch-ups here and there. For the most part, I was good about maintenance and cleaning. The problem was that I could become so absorbed by larger priorities like studying or research that everything else would be completely neglected until I was finished.

I shuddered as I recalled the horror of me and Rarity finding fortnight-old coffee sludge mixed with orange peels. Who knew food could be that scary? My eyes swept down to the base of the wall.

Just then, something caught my eye. There was a book shoved underneath the windowsill – a really, really big book. What was it doing there?

I grasped in my magic, gently easing it away from the floor. It was thick, black and ugly, the binding torn and cracked – whether by age or poor care I could not tell. On top of that, it was even heavier than it looked. Without magic, I would have had trouble lifting it.

As I turned it over in the air, I noticed the distinctive texture of the heavy binding leather.

Dragon hide. So, it was most likely very old, and not just mistreated. Spike won't be pleased to see this. . .

Surely I wouldn't have forgotten a book outside – I may be forgetful and sometimes messy, but leaving an ancient text exposed to the weather is something I would never do. Not to mention the fact I couldn't recall having seen it before.

Maybe Spike brought it out here for some reason. . . And forgot about it? Not likely, especially given the binding material. But how else. . ?

Last night – that noise I heard! Somepony abandoning a very old and extremely heavy book on a second-floor balcony in the middle of the night, during government enforced curfew hours?

. . .Probably not. But what other option was there? I inspected the cover for signs of rain, but there were none. It hadn't been here for long.

My mind drawing a blank, I searched the cover for a title. Nothing. Author name? Nothing. Huh?

. . .Oops, wrong side. I flushed with embarrassment as I flipped the heavy text to reveal the actual front cover.

Two words, glittered back at me from the black expanse, embossed in large gold lettering.

Celestial Mechanics

by Kiki3

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day