//------------------------------// // Chapter 13 // Story: Shadows Watching // by SaltyJustice //------------------------------// I bolted towards my house at top speed, the rain growing in intensity as I did so. I knew it was a futile gesture, yes still I ran, believing that if I could go just a little bit faster I might not have to completely rewrite my essay and descend into madness in the process. After the rain had soaked my mane I gave up, accepting defeat, and waiting for the blackness to come and claim me. Or, I went into a shop which was still open, its warm candle glow a beacon in the dark rain. The owner behind the desk was surprised as I entered, dripping all over his tile floor. He frowned at me. "I'm sorry miss, but we're closed for the evening," he said. Before I could protest, a bright white mare clad in a yellow raincoat came up to the counter with a paper bag hovering in front of her. Her voice was like a gentle song, sweet and bright. It was so familiar to me, I could not quite place it. Perhaps she was one of my mother's friends? Mom would sometimes have her friends over for tea, and they had all known me since I was a filly while I could never remember them. "How much for these?" she asked, placing the bag on the counter. The owner placed the bag on a little weigh scale and inspected it, scratching something on a pad of paper that sat on the desk. "Seven bits," he said finally. "Here's ten," the mare said, causing the owner's face to light up. He picked the bits up and stashed them behind the counter with a smile, as the mare moved towards the exit in which I stood, sopping wet. She sized me up for a moment before speaking. "Oh my, darling, did you forget your rain apparel?" she said, a look of shock and indignation sweeping over her face. She reared back as though she were about to faint. "Well, I didn't think I'd be out this long," I said, scarcely hiding my disappointment. "Do you live far? Can you make it home?" she asked. "It's a ways," I said. She held up a hoof to her chin, the gears in her head whirring as she sized up her options, before finally she said, "No, no. I absolutely cannot leave you to the elements like this. Aha!" she laughed out loud, so suddenly that the store owner bolted upright. "Yes, I shall walk you home! Capital! Ha ha!" she was practically shouting at this point. She levitate an umbrella out from under her coat and carried it past me outside, opening it and waiting for me to walk beneath it before passing it to me, magically of course. I couldn't get too good a look at her, the raincoat covered her almost completely. The more she spoke, the more familiar she seemed. Every acquaintance of my parents cycled through my mind, crossing them off as too short, wrong color, wrong gender, not a Unicorn. Plus, I was certain none of them carried themselves with this air about them. She would laugh randomly and inappropriately when she spoke, a staccato shriek that hurt my ears. "Now sweetie," she said as she walked next to me, taking me down the blocks to my house, "just what reason have you to be out so late without proper attire? It is hardly becoming of a lady, you know." Suspicion, that was what my parents had taught me. When dealing with strangers, one is to answer questions scarcely and evasively, never allowing them to pin you down no matter how nice they seem. This mare did seem nice, I will admit I was a tad taken in, but mom's careful instructions all those years ago were deep rooted. Give only what you must. "Long day at my job," I said. Good start, true while still useless. "Oh really? What do you do exactly?" she asked. "Oh, government stuff," I said. True, still useless. Doing great. "Ah, that would make sense you know. All my acquaintances grumble when they get stuck working late, but not us, we hold ourselves to a higher standard. Ah, but what is one so young doing with serious work like government employ?" she asked. Her vocabulary was superb, possibly she was an aristocrat, given the neighborhood. There was no way to answer honestly while still being evasive. Do I lie? She was very friendly, and in the process of doing a stranger a favor... "Oh, I'm a foalsitter. Just a summer job 'til school starts again," I said. Not enough info to really track you down, don't give out your name and you'll be fine. "A foalsitter! Oh, does Lemma still work for the agency?" she asked. That name was familiar. The robot? The robot had made a friend? So many impossible things had been happening lately I wasn't sure what was real anymore, and yet I still knew that was false, it had to be. I wondered if perhaps this mare had made friends with the robot and merely believed it had befriended her back. Alternately, it was a learning computer and had learned to make friends, somehow. Like, think about that, a machine that can love, make friends just as we did, learn to appreciate life instead of snuffing it out. No, no, the robot could not have loved, then there would be no difference between pony and machine, we would eventually merge together and become indistinguishable, ponykind becoming cyborganic hybrids built in factories in a grim and dark future. Or there would be a war, the machines eventually deciding they were superior and destroying us mere flesh creatures to make the world more perfect. Even more impossibly, Lemme could well have been a normal pony. That was by far the least likely scenario. "Oh, yeah she's my boss," I said. "Aha! Oh Lemma, good show, good show! I knew she'd go far, I've not spoken to her in so long, we really must catch up," she said. I decided to interpret this as a good sign, a mutual contact would help. "Ah, but I've not introduced myself, have I?" she said, stopping abruptly. I stopped to match as she turned to face me, rain pouring down all around us, creating a little world all our own. "I am Victoria Petalfeather, Curator and Historian Extraordinaire," she said, bowing and waving one hoof in front of her. She stood up and waited for my response. I made a snap decision. "I'm Cadence, uh, Class Q foalsitter," I said, trying to mimic her bow. Mine was okay, I'll give it a seven out of ten. I had also just revealed my name, but my nickname only, very different from Miamore. I had still followed all of mom's advice. Did she say, curator? Historian? "Well Cadence, it is my great pleasure to make your acquantance. You must tell Jolly next time you see her to stop by the museum!" she said. Jolly? Jolly Something Lemma? Could a name be more unfitting? My mind was so busy scrambling to jive the two visions of my boss that it nearly let the bit about the museum pass. As we resumed our pace, a thousand questions rose in my mind. Did you go to school with her? Does she smile? Does she drink motor oil, or do you just wind her up every day? The questions jockeyed one another for position, the strongest made its way to the front as the others battled one another for second place. "Did you say you were a curator in a museum?" I asked. I had a feeling this was the right one. "Oh yes my dear, and not just any museum. Why, you are looking at the curator of the Equestrian National Museum in Canterlot Palace's east wing!" she exclaimed, beaming with pride. "I recently came about the position as my predecessor retired, you know, it's very important and -" "So, museum, historian, hey, have you ever heard of Princess Amoria?" I asked suddenly and cut her off as I did so. Rude, yes, but I had no patience for hearing just how awesome she was. Had I wanted that I could go sit in a tea party and listen to old ponies gab endlessly about their accomplishments. She barely even noticed my interruption, diving into thought as soon as I had asked the question. I had thought she was a noble or something when I heard how she spoke, but it occurred to me now that it was an academic thing. She could be a professor for all I had known, the question was a challenge and her mind loved them. After a minute of rain pounding my umbrella as we navigated the darkened streets, she finally responded, measured, with no laughter or hints of the upper-class manner she had displayed before. "She was one of the triumvirate, as I recall. You know, before the fall? Very old stuff, not a lot of records left from that era, OH!", she burst out suddenly. "That's right, yes, Princess Amoria. Good with a sword, that's the one?" she looked at me expectantly. "Yeah, I read a book for history class about her," I said modestly, trying to play down my knowledge and let her open up. The less I appeared to know, the more she'd tell me: I knew how teachers worked. "Ah yes, her. A student of history, I take it?" she asked me again. More questions. "It's my best subject. Do you know much about her?" I said, trying to steer the conversation back. "Not much you'd not find in your books I'm afraid, though..." she said, trailing off. A moment passed as we walked when she did not speak. "There is something, very hush-hush, mind you," she said, looking around quickly. Nopony was on the street in the downpour, the curtain of water would serve to insulate us from any listeners. "You see, nopony knows what she looks like," she said. She stopped speaking and poked her head up suddenly. "Well, except for Princess Celestia, of course. But she knows everything!" she said, laughing again in that high pitched staccato. "Of course she's not talking, never does discuss the old days no matter how much I ask. But, you see, we recently found an artifact during an excavation," she said, leaning in closer to me. A drop of rain from her raincoat fell and landed on my head, adding to my still sopping mane. "It's a statue, most of the bottom half is missing, but we've restored it. Going to unveil it at the garden party on Friday," she was practically whispering now, but the pride was dripping from her every word. "Is that a big deal?" I asked. "A big deal? There are no surviving artifacts that show what she looks like! It's all artist renderings and you know how accurate those are. No, this is one-of-a-kind, world exclusive." she said, each word causing her voice to raise louder and louder. Excitement was now barely contained, she seemed to step higher and lighter as we walked. "And I get the great honor of unveiling it! Can you believe this? I did all the finishing work myself, you know, I'm literally the only other in the world who knows what she looks like," she said. I wanted to grab her and demand to see the statue or whatever parts of it had survived. Everything I was made of screamed to go find that statue and at last confirm or completely deny all these images and memories that had implanted themselves in my head from somewhere else. The urge was nigh irresistible, the only reason I did not was because that was ineffective, and cold logic won out. I needed to see that statue if it meant breaking in to do it. I'd go to jail forever if that happened and I didn't care. I had had no goals in life before now. This was my goal. I had to see that statue. I contained myself and decided to try the diplomatic approach. Violence does not earn one favors, even if it's faster. Having had your entire life boil down and simplify into one purpose gives a sense of clarity to everything you do, only things which advance you towards that goal matter, everything else does not. "Wow, that's amazing. Do you think I could come see it sometime? Sometime soon?" I asked, doing my best to seem earnest and curious, like a student. She slowed for exactly one step then resumed her pace, then resumed and returned to that old composure she had had when I met her. Her voice increased in pitch, she laughed in the middle of her sentences. "Oh my dear no, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. It's such an important unveiling, I could lose my job if I snubbed all those important ponies like that. Ha! Imagine that, all those nobles complaining to me that they weren't the first to set eyes on it! I'd be run out of town you know," she said. My heart sank. Violence it is - "I could try to arrange a private viewing later on, if that's all right with you? Say, next week maybe?" she asked. Violence was no longer necessary, but would be kept near the top of my options. Burglary would be near the bottom since I could not pick a lock or climb anything via rope. I agreed to meet her later at the museum as we got closer to my house. The instincts were hard-wired into me by my mother, I could not help dismissing Victoria a short distance from my house, so as to keep her from knowing where I lived. Old habits died hard. "Well this is my block," I said, technically two blocks away from my house. "Oh then this is goodbye for now, darling! Haha! Always a pleasure to meet a fellow student of history!" I turned to leave, before it struck me I was still carrying her umbrella. Even to walk two blocks without it would lead to disaster, I needed a plan. "Oh gee, my - " I started. "Oh the umbrella? Not even a thing, my dear! Give it back to me when you see me next, I'll be counting on it! Haha! Perfect!" she said, in that laughing voice again. I wished I could get as excited about anything as she did about casual conversation. That night I simmered inside, much like when I was younger and my parents would all give me presents on my birthday. The anticipation was killing me, I only had to wait a little longer and everything would be resolved. Heads, I'd wind up in the insane asylum, gibbering to myself claiming I was a hundred different ponies, all of which were very famous and important. Tails. Tails. I could not come to grips with tails. Here's hoping it was heads.