//------------------------------// // Intelligent // Story: Last // by Alan Smithee //------------------------------// Twilight Sparkle trudged through the Everfree Forest with her head hung low. She couldn’t help but feel she’d failed somepony she’d never even met. Whoever it had been had been displaced by the fire, or worse. The thought of what could have been compounded her feeling of defeat. Her thoughts turned to her current situation. Her depression turned to fear: It had taken her almost twelve hours to get here from Ponyville. She was hungry, thirsty and tired. She didn’t know if she could make it back. She took a deep breath. Spike and her pony friends would surely look for her when they found her missing. She knew there was still plenty of hope. She’d already forgotten the odd, mindless creature she’d met by the wreckage she’d found. Simon plunged the syringe down. Though he’d sworn to never use the amphetamines included in his personal first-aid kit, he silently congratulated himself now for never actually removing them. Simon chased the creature without thought to it’s origins or motives. It, She had come to him in his hour of need. Perhaps, then, she was an angel, he thought. If she was, then she was his angel. He ignored his nonsense thoughts, focusing instead on catching up with her. The drugs surged through his body. The sensation was like an adrenaline rush, only much more intense: He could still feel the pain and resistance in his muscles, but he was granted the ability to ignore them. He felt lifted above his physical self. He was a puppeteer, and his body a marionette to his will. He also felt assured that everything was going to be all right. He became almost giddy with excitement. The ash fell off him. The dry air wicked away the grime and sweat on his exposed skin. The sunlight hit him and warmed him to his core. He tingled with simple pleasure. Passing a dead tree, he grasped a branch and broke it off. It was shaped like a Y. Long ago, he’d planned how he’d make first contact with an intelligent, alien species, and he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. He approached the angel. He poked her with the stick to get her attention. She turned and looked up at him. Seeing him again startled her. She looked frightened. Using one end of the stick, he drew a straight line in the ash on the ground “Wha...what...?” He raised a hand. She fell silent. Using the two prongs of the Y, he inscribed a circle, centred at one end of the line: And another, centred at the point the first circle touched the line: Where these two circles met, he joined both endpoints of the line: The lines joining the endpoints also joined the centers of the circles to their edges. The circles’ radii were of equal length. Therefore, these two lines were of equal length, by the definition of a circle. The line connecting the centres of the two circles also connected their centres to their edges. Therefore, that line was equal in length to the other two. From there, it was trivial to conclude that these three lines formed an equilateral triangle. The construction was the First Proposition of the Elements of Euclid, one of the most ancient mathematical treatises. Simon looked at the construction in admiration, then lifted his eyes to meet those of his angel. Surely he'd demonstrated his intelligence to her. She wasn’t looking at his eyes, or at his drawing in the ash. “Is your name Simon?” she asked. His jaw dropped. He followed her gaze to the chest of his jacket. Stitched onto the breast were the letters, SIMON Simon buried his face in his hands and heaved a great sigh. His angel giggled. He looked up at her. There was nothing to do but smile. “So, you do understand me!” Simon nodded rapidly. “But you can’t speak” He shook his head. “So that thing back there was yours”, she said, speaking of his ship. Simon nodded. “I’m sorry....” Simon did nothing. “...You’re not from around here, are you?” He didn’t know what the answer was. He shook his head. No. “I didn’t think so. Did you play that music?” Yes. “And the fireworks?” Yes. Her smile broadened. “I found you” She reached out and touched his arm. The sensation of her hard, fingerless appendage was like being touched by an amputee’s stump. Simon couldn’t stand it, and roughly shook it off. He took a step away from her. She took a step away from him, as well. Her smile was replaced with an expression of hurt. Without a word, she began walking away again. Again, Simon followed her. She glanced at him. She gave him a look of uncertainty, but she also gave her awareness that she couldn’t stop him. They walked awhile. The dead strip of forest was silent and bare. Simon wished she would say something to the effect of what she was. He wished she’d say anything. She’d given her name, but he couldn’t remember it. He didn’t want to stop to ask her questions, and he was certain she didn’t want to either. Simon had no trouble keeping up with his angel. They walked side-by-side for a good long time. She was pacing herself, it seemed. He glanced at her from time to time, and noticed her eyelids were almost closed. He weaved from side to side to avoid trees and debris. He noticed that when he weaved to within about five feet of her, she’d drift away and quicken her pace. Simon stared at her as they walked. She walked on all fours. She had a thick coat of glossy, purple hair all over her body.  She had a tail. She had an elongated face. She had no thumbs. She had no digits at all. He found himself fixated on her hind legs. Instead of an ankle, she had a pronounced joint about halfway up the leg. He wracked his brain in vain to remember the word for such a joint. Whatever they were called, he could remember clearly where he’d seen them: Mimi, his poodle. She was definitely not related to humans in any way. The more he reflected on this, the less he could accept it: She was so bestial. She had no hands to manipulate the world around her. She wore no clothes, and was therefore at the mercy of the sun and the rain and the four winds. His own survival gear could keep him alive at temperatures of below thirty degrees Celsius. And yet she was leading him away from his ship, and the last vestiges of the life he knew. He was to live or die by her actions. He steered his thoughts off that particular path. Her gait drew his attention to the mark on her hindquarters. It looked like a compass rose. His angel glared at him. He instinctively looked straight ahead and quickened his pace. The debris narrowed their path severely, and they were forced to walk in single file. Simon ended up in front. He pushed away a branch that stuck out across their path. The tough, springy bark of the forest’s trees made this surprisingly difficult. He let it go. He heard a cry of pain and surprise. He whirled around. His angel was staggering away from him and the branch. She opened her eyes one at a time, making sure she could still see out of them. Her nose bled. She glared at Simon. Her ears flattened, she held her head low, and looked straight ahead. She walked past him and continued at a much quicker pace. They continued on their way. Simon was constantly looking over at her, and she continued to ignore him completely. It was evident that she was hoping he’d fall behind. They continued in this way for an hour or more. He had no trouble keeping pace with her, but he heard her breathing labour, and saw flecks of foam seep out of her mouth, and began to worry. Simon sprinted ahead, blocking her path. She could have easily skirted around him, but she begrudgingly stopped. “What is it?” she asked tersely. Simon produced from inside his jacket a small, narrow canteen. He’d filled it with water from the Thames after he’d crossed the river to escape the fire. With exaggerated movement he unscrewed the cap and took a drink. He tried not to make a face at the water’s taste. He offered it to her. She looked at it longingly. “Thank you” was all she could say. Her voice sounded dry. The canteen unexpectedly pulled away from his hands. He looked at it. A purple-pink aura was sparkling around the canteen and his hands. He felt a shock of surprise surge up his forearms. He pulled back on it. He struggled with the phantom force until he was interrupted by his angel. “Can you let go, please?” she asked impatiently. He looked up at his angel and noticed, for the first time, the horn on her head. It was glowing the same colour as the aura around the canteen. In his confusion, he complied with her request. With stunned awe he watched the canteen float to her lips. She drank. “Thank you again” she said graciously. The canteen floated back into his hands. He nearly let it drop to the ground. His angel resumed at a much more manageable pace. Simon was rooted to the spot, examining the canteen to try to explain what had just happened. He felt slightly foolish. “Come on, Simon!” called his angel, already some distance away. He was shaken out of his stupor and continued after her. The hours passed. The amphetamines wore off. He slowed. The gap between him and his angel widened. Would she disappear so soon after she’d appeared? She hadn’t yet noticed that he was falling behind. Again, he wished he’d known her name... “TWILIGHT!” came a voice from the sky. He jerked his head up to see a dazzling streak of colour shimmer above his head, accompanied by a rush of air that nearly knocked him off his feet. The streak stretched before him. He followed it with his eyes to see that his angel was no longer alone. Another angel, sky-blue and winged, possessing a brilliant  head and matching tail of multicoloured hair, grasped his angel in a tight embrace. “What are you doing out here?! Are you hurt? When Spike said you were missing, and I thought I’d heard you while I was out here this morning...I thought you might’ve...That you were...The girls are still looking for you!” The blue angel rose above the treetops. “I FOUND HER! SHE’S OKAY!” she bellowed. A giant, bulbous mass appeared in the sky: It was a hot-air balloon, hovering about fifty feet above the ground. Another streak, yellow this time, shot from  the balloon, and once again his angel was joined by another, this one with a yellow coat and pink hair. Like the blue angel, she had wings. “Twilight, we were so worried!”, she said quietly, but with the most genuine concern. The blue angel descended and took a firm hold of Twilight, his angel. Above, the balloon erupted in a chorus of cheers and greetings for Twilight. Twilight looked at her companions and smiled. She had tears in her eyes. Simon watched from a respectable distance. “Thank you so much, girls. I don’t think I could’ve made it back without you” “Hey, we’d never leave you hanging!” Twilight looked toward Simon, who had gone unnoticed by the other angels. Her big, black eyes shimmered. “Then I won’t leave you hanging“ she said. “Huh?” was the response from all who heard. Twilight gestured toward him. “Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, meet Simon.” All eyes were now on him. The yellow angel looked at him discerningly. “What is he?” asked the blue angel. “I’ve never seen anything like him before” said the yellow angel. “I don’t think he’s from Equestria. He can’t speak. I think he’s lost. I want to bring him back to Ponyville” The yellow angel floated towards him, her arm outstretched. He backed away. “Be careful, Fluttershy. He doesn’t like being touched” Twilight warned. “It’s okay, Simon. You’re safe” she added. He looked to her. Her horn shimmered. He relaxed. The last ounces of strength left him, and he teetered and he fell. He heard a cry of surprise, and felt a small, furry body catch him before he hit the ground. He lost all sensation. Twilight stood over Simon’s limp form in the cool, dark basement of her library. On occasion he’d cough or turn over, then fall still. The spell she’d cast on him in the forest was meant to make him drowsy so that Fluttershy could safely pick him up. Evidently, he had been exhausted. She’d thought of removing his clothes, but a small sense of decency told her not to. Ponies had a strange double-standard when it came to clothes: They were happy to be seen in public naked, but they were sheepish about being seen dressing or undressing. This behaviour had on occasion fascinated Twilight, and refrained her from removing Simon’s clothes from him. With the help of her friends she’d transformed the room into a home for Simon in no time at all. Applejack had brought over some straw bales from Sweet Apple Acres, which served as Simon’s bed. Fluttershy had brought an assortment of medicine. For food, Twilight had asked Applejack to bring a little bit of everything: Oats, hay, flowers, carrots, apples, peaches, pears. Rarity had brought a small case of jewels in case he had a dragon’s appetite. Pinkie Pie had, without being asked, brought something from Sugarcube Corner. It was in a box, and she didn’t say what it was. Finally, there was water. Big Macintosh helped his sister carry a trough down into the basement, and then helped her fill it with enough water to quench a cow for a week. Now, all her friends had gone home; she was alone with slumbering Simon. She wanted to be with him when he awoke, so that he’d know he was safe. As she waited, she reflected on all that had transpired over the course of the day. She’d gone from worrying about some unknown thing deep in the Everfree Forest, to confusion and apathy towards the weird, mute animal, to relief and excitement at discovering Simon was the one she’d been looking for.  She’d felt spurned and humiliated when he seemed so repulsed by her touch. She’d felt harassed and exploited when he so presumptuously followed her, as if she was somehow obliged to help him. When his thoughtlessness so nearly caused her injury, she was convinced she had to be rid of him. But then he’d stopped her from hurting herself when her frantic attempt to outrun him backfired. That simple act had convinced her that Simon was more than what she’d thought him to be. She was astonished at how many emotions she’d felt towards him in such a short time, without his speaking a single word. She was reminded of the night she’d set out to find the Elements of Harmony with five ponies she barely knew, and how quickly their adventure had transformed them into the closest friends she’d ever had. She marvelled at all these insights. She sensed something important was unfolding. Despite everything she’d been through, she was scared by what she couldn’t see that lay ahead. “Twilight, please. You haven’t slept in two days...” She felt Spike’s claws wrap around her neck. It was true: Two days ago she’d awoken to find her horn tainted with Poison Joke. She’d stayed up half the night reading, and the remainder being led to where Simon sat. Nevertheless, she refused Spike’s request. “I don’t want him to panic when he wakes up” Spike took a step back and looked at her determinedly. “So when he wakes up, you’ll go to bed?” “I promise” There came a startling POP in reply. Before she could turn and scold Spike, Simon sat bolt upright. He looked frantically around him. He was breathing heavily. “Simon, it’s me” He locked eyes with hers. His breathing slowed. He sank back onto his bed. He was clearly exhausted. “Simon, it’s okay. You’re safe” He nodded. He put his head down. “Go back to sleep” His eyes closed. Twilight glared at Spike, who was holding a needle and a popped balloon. “Spike, why did you...” Spike put a finger on Twilight’s lips and gestured toward Simon. “Twilight, you need sleep. He’s got everything he needs right now” She paused... “You’re right...” The two climbed the stairs gingerly. At the head of the stairs, she stopped and looked out over the open basement. “Goodnight, Simon” she called. They left the basement and closed the door. Twilight had torn half the books off the shelves in search of some insight about what Simon was or where he came from. “Let’s go to bed” Spike insisted. She wanted to clean the room up very much, but she knew Spike was right. “Wait” she insisted suddenly. “what?!” “I...need to write a letter to the Princess to tell her about Simon. I just have to... After that, I promise we’ll go to bed” Edited by KeatsLocksley, Admari and Radon18.