//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: Millie 
// by totallynotabrony 
//------------------------------//

	I had gotten a little distracted with trying to read a newspaper and walk at the same time. I really wanted to read the article about the serial killer, but not having functioning magic of my own was turning into a liability. Vinyl eventually had to hold the newspaper for me while we walked. I was led into the post office with Vinyl using the paper like a carrot on a stick.
“Next page,” I muttered.
“Millie, we’re here.”
“Huh?” I glanced up at the postal clerk. “Oh, sorry. I need to send a letter.”
He provided us with the materials we needed and Vinyl and I retreated to the corner to avoid anypony overhearing the subject of the letter. I was not confident in my mouth writing, so Vinyl took down what I dictated. Coming back to the postal counter, the mailpony helped me get the envelope addressed and stamped.
That done, we left the building and went back out into the cold. The sidewalk was well tramped down now, and the snow had become hard packed and a little slick. I was somewhat glad that my brand new hooves had sharp edges for extra traction.
“So where do you want to start?” asked Vinyl.
I was not looking forward to tracking down a serial killer that the police couldn’t seem to catch. That is, if this series of murders was even the same killing the batpony had been wanting me to stop. Besides, we’re talking about a multiple-murderer here. That didn’t exactly make me eager to get started.
After considering my answer to Vinyl’s question, I managed to come up with a decent stall tactic, one that might even hold until we got a reply back from Canterlot. “First things first. You never start a job without all the tools. I need to learn how to use magic.”
Vinyl paused. “Why are you looking at me?”
“You’re a unicorn.”
“We’ve been over this before, dude. Just because I can use magic doesn’t mean I know how it works or that I can teach it.”
“Then direct me to your nearest library.” I sighed. “This might take a while.”
We found a public library and went inside out of the cold. To my chagrin, Vinyl insisted that we start with the magic for foals section. For some reason, it evoked memories of being a preteen trying to learn what to expect before getting hammered with puberty. Ugh.
Magic is a whole-body experience, no matter if you’re a unicorn, pegasus, or earth pony. Learning to channel it can be challenging, but let your instincts handle that.
“I don’t have instincts,” I muttered.
“You figured out pegasus flight easily enough,” commented Vinyl.
“Yeah, but I could touch my wings and figure out which muscles did what. I can’t really do that with magic.”
Vinyl frowned. “Well, I’ve heard that every kind of pony has some sort of magic. I don’t know anything about pegasi or earth ponies, but is there anything you can adapt from last time?”
I considered that. My brush with pegasus magic was limited to local gravity manipulation and interaction with clouds. While it was mostly to do with wings, I could sort of remember how my body felt trying to do that stuff. As a person, I simply didn’t have anything to relate it to. Worse, unicorn magic seemed to be something completely different.
I found the library section on anatomy and perused the books for a while. Vinyl left to check somewhere else and I grabbed a tome about female reproductive systems. Just reading the cover made me queasy, but I forced myself to open it.
To my great relief, it seemed that ponies had the same basic mammalian parts. While still completely squicky, I could at least remember enough of high school health class to get the gist.
My eye fell on a note about “heat cycles.” As an engineer, the first thing that popped into my head was the process of heat treating metals and I started to read further. I was very wrong. It was not about that at all.
I slapped the book shut and hastily put it back on the shelf. The monthly condition of being in heat. I swear to God, they had better send me home as soon as possible…
Grabbing another anatomy book to distract myself, I browsed the index and flipped to a page about the nervous system. There were some handy diagrams of the brain, including a separate section that delved into differences among the races. Pegasi had a more developed processing center for direction and orientation. It sounded like something that birds might use to navigate instinctively.
Unicorns had slightly different neural connections that allowed the horn to be integrated into the rest of their nervous system. Perhaps the section of the brain called the “unicortex”? I mused.
Reading further, I discovered that the horn grew from a variance in one skull plate on the forehead. A skull, after all, was not a solid piece but a series of plates that were fused to create the whole. One particular plate was shaped differently in unicorns, leading to the horn.
I wondered if the difference was genetic. Did unicorn genes and pegasus genes cancel each other out? Is that why alicorns were so rare? Was it not genes at all, but magical influence? Could one kind of pony become another kind? Back on topic, Millie. You didn’t major in biology or magic.
I returned to my reading. It took me a moment to realize that I’d slipped and used the feminized name Vinyl had invented. I took a breath. Keep calm, carry on.
In the section of the book about nerves, I found that the horn was made of bone covered in skin like the rest of the skull. That was why it was the same color. There was a bundle of nerves inside the horn. I read further, trying to discover if they were something special. No, just regular nerves. Then again, the other book had said magic was a whole-body thing. Nerves ran through the whole body.
Regardless, that still didn’t help me with the question of how. Vinyl came back just then. “Hey, I thought of something.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You were saying that you could figure out wings because you could feel them. What if you could feel magic?” She was grinning, clearly proud of her idea.
“How do I go about that?” I asked.
“I think if I transfer some to you, then you could feel what magic on your horn is like.”
Vinyl could have used a better phrase than that, but I was willing to try anything. I watched as her horn glowed. She explained, “Okay, so I’m just putting out magic right now but not doing anything with it. If I were going to do a spell or levitate something then I would be actively directing it. As it is, it’s like a record spinning, but the needle isn’t down.”
Or a car idling in neutral. I understood.
Vinyl said, “Okay, come over here and touch it.”
“Touch it?”
She might have rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. “Look Millie, I’m just a simple pony, not some expert who might be able to do this while you’re standing over there. You get what you get.”
I stepped closer, past the barrier I would consider her personal space. “Come on,” said Vinyl, our faces practically pushed together. “Touch me.”
I prepared myself with anticipation and crossed horns with her. Later, I would learn that was a euphemism for unicorn sex, but for the moment I was too distracted to consider it.
The feeling was like nothing I could describe. There was a definite buzz of energy in my horn, and with a little effort I could sort of feel it trickling down through the rest of my body. Hmm, okay, so magic was a whole body thing.
I took a step back and tried to reproduce what I’d just felt, but in reverse. The feeling was not hot or cold, pain or pleasure. The nearest I could attribute it to—and that was still a stretch—was just a slight pressure on all parts of my being. I could feel it everywhere, and when I willed it, some of the feeling concentrated in my horn. Use the force! Wait, I’m a pony. Would that instead be... oh, I don’t know, use the horse?
“Nice, dude.” Vinyl grinned. “You’ve got the magic going. The aura is amber, in case you were wondering. Now, try to use it. Pick up a book.”
I glanced at the shelf, looking at one of the thicker titles. It actually seemed remarkably easy to get it moving, sliding the book out of its resting spot. Apparently the hard part was just getting the magic started.
While the book slid off the shelf just fine, I forgot to support it and it tumbled to the floor. I tried to pick it up, but it didn’t budge. It was pretty clear by the amber glow surrounding it that I was doing everything right. Maybe not enough power?
Concentrating harder, I tried to force more magic output. I actually had to exert a bit of effort now. However, the book did rise from the floor. 
“Does heavier stuff require more magic?” I asked to confirm.
Vinyl nodded. “Yeah. It’s sort of like a muscle; the more you work it out the stronger it gets, but too much and you can get tired.”
I was tempted to find out how much I could lift, but decided not to exert myself so soon. This was going to require practice. The last thing I needed was to turn myself into a turnip or something.
Speaking of that… “So that was just telekinesis. How do spells work?”
“Specialized magic.” Vinyl shrugged. “Some spells, like getting light to shine from your horn, are pretty easy and anypony can do them. Others are way harder and might only be possible from a pony who has a special talent related to that. Really, really complicated stuff can require external help, like runes and chants.”
To be honest, I would just be satisfied with holding my own newspaper.
The two of us left the library. I turned to Vinyl, intending to ask what we should do next or if there was some way we could stall further until a reply letter arrived. Before I could speak however, she facehoofed. “I totally forgot my stuff on the train!”
“Oh! Sorry, I forgot all about that.”
Vinyl shook her head. “I have to go to the station to make sure the train company holds it in Canterlot.”
I wanted to go to The Metronome to talk to Octavia again now that I might be on the lookout for a serial killer. I didn’t think Vinyl would want to go, so this seemed like a good time to split up. “While you do that, I’ll go over to the club. You can come by when you’re finished.”
“No, I’ll wait for you at the hotel.” Vinyl abruptly turned and headed towards the station. I stared after her for a moment. I really needed to do something about the rift between her and Octavia. With that thought on my mind, I headed for The Metronome.
It was not a long walk to the club. I entered just before noon. A few early customers were there. A yellow and blue mare who looked similar to Octavia was on stage with a stringed instrument tucked under her chin. I couldn’t tell whether she was playing fiddle or violin music. It sounded okay, but wasn’t the type of thing I expected to find in a jazz club.
Iridium greeted me, polite as ever. I asked him where Octavia was.
“She’s in the back doing some maintenance,” he told me.
I wasn’t really sure what Iridium thought of me. He knew that Octavia had let me stay the night. As it was, I figured that he took me for a friend of hers. I wondered if his feelings would change had I appeared to be male. 
Putting aside my observations of sexism from an alternate perspective, I said, “Maintenance? I can probably help with that.”
Iridium pointed me to a door. Going through, I found Octavia struggling with a ladder and a package of light bulbs. She looked up when I came in.
“Hey, let me help.” Eager to do something useful with magic, I plucked the bulbs from her grasp and asked where they should be installed. Octavia pointed me back out into the main room to an unobtrusive spot on the ceiling behind the bar.
I concentrated on what I was doing, carefully taking one light bulb out of the package and holding it separately. Controlling two objects at once with magic made the task more difficult, but I found that I could manage. Maybe I would get better with more practice. Setting the package down on the bar, I looked upwards and unscrewed the burned out bulb.
Once again carefully balancing two objects at once, I put in the new bulb and tightened it. As the light flickered on, I got caught staring at it and squinted my eyes shut. I heard the tinkle of breaking glass. The old bulb lay broken on the floor.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “First day with magic.”
Octavia smiled with quiet patience and got me a broom and dustpan to clean things up. Controlling both at once was more challenging this time because I was actively moving both. I tried to figure out what went wrong with the light bulb. Either I was bad at magicking things with my eyes closed, or I had simply lost control.
I tried to do a good job with sweeping, although with hooves, walking on a few tiny bits of broken glass wasn’t really a problem. Dumping the contents of the dustpan in the trash, I put everything back. Finding Octavia again, I asked, “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Fleur wants to have a show tomorrow,” Octavia told me. “She paid for paint to clean up the front of the building and make it more presentable.”
I frowned. “It’s not the easiest thing to apply paint in winter. Not only will the paint be thick and cause over application, but it won’t dry very quickly.”
“Well, that’s what the pony at the hardware store told me, but I agree that anything is better than nothing.” Octavia indicated a few cans of paint, a paint scraper, and a brush that sat on the floor of the maintenance room.
“I’ll do it,” I told her. She seemed a little surprised at me volunteering, but was not about to turn down my offer. On the way outside, I challenged myself again by carrying a can of paint, brush, and scraper all in one go and opening the door at the same time. 
The first priority was getting rid of the small areas of peeling paint. After a trial period, I had the scraper flying over the exterior of the building and taking care of business. I hummed a little Bachman-Turner Overdrive as I worked. Little curls of loose paint fell from the blade of the scraper.
The ability to levitate the scraper to the top of the wall and move it around without ever stepping on a ladder was amazing. Not having to go up and down the ladder and move it sideways along the wall saved a lot of time. I actually finished scraping much faster than I would have with fingers. I guess maybe I could get used to this magic thing after all.
Most of the building still retained its paint. Not all of it had peeled, after all. The color that remained was rather faded, however. I popped open the can of paint and dipped the brush in.
While scraping with telekinesis might have been easy, painting sure wasn’t. I was not about to stand directly under a dripping paintbrush. In addition, the cold-thickened paint made things more difficult. It was not a huge building and I was only painting the front wall, but the job took up a good part of the afternoon. The excess paint dripped on the snow-covered sidewalk. I could easily shovel it up to make the place look like it hadn’t been hastily beautified the day before an event.
When I went inside to get the other paint for the club’s sign, Octavia greeted me with a large flower sandwich. It could have used some hot sauce, but it more than made up for the lunch I missed. While I was working, I had been trying to decide how to tell Octavia what I might have gotten into with the local serial killer.
From reading the newspaper, I discovered that the first murders started about three months before - why yes, about the time that I had gone home. Octavia hadn’t been around Manehattan that long, and probably would not know much about the killing.
Still, I should tell her. I finished the last bite of the sandwich. “Earlier today, I read that there’s a murderer going around. I read some interesting things in the newspaper. For instance, most of the victims seem to have connections to organized crime.”
Octavia considered that. “So you think this might be who you’re supposed to stop?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t got any better ideas, and getting any murderer off the streets is a good thing, right?”
“How do you plan to go about it?” Octavia asked.
“Uh... no idea. I mean, maybe some convenient deus ex machina magic, but the chances of that happening in my favor are slim, to say the least.”
“I was meaning to ask,” she said. “How did you learn?”
“A little bit of library work combined with some ideas from Vinyl.” I shrugged. “Regardless, it works now. Still kind of mindblowing. Magic doesn’t exist where I’m from.”
Octavia nodded in understanding. “I used to believe that magic didn’t exist for earth ponies. I think it’s more subtle, but it’s there. I can feel it in my hooves when I play.”
That was a rather interesting topic, but I was not about to embark on a discussion of an entirely new field of magic. I had enough to think about as it was.
The yellow and blue mare from earlier came over to the table and took Octavia in a quick hug. “Good to see you again, cuz. I’ll look you up the next time I’m in Manehattan.”
Octavia nodded and smiled. “I hope the rest of your trip is good, Fiddlesticks. Send grandmother my love.”
There was another interesting conversation idea - the difference between magic and genetics in Equestria. Octavia’s cousin looked a lot like her and they both had similar talents. I could feel myself getting off topic and tried to get back to the problem of finding and taking down a serial killer.
After the fiddle player had departed, I said, “Well, I really shouldn’t count on crazy magic help, although maybe it isn’t outside the realm of possibility. After all, it was one of Vinyl’s crazy ideas that taught me to use it in the first place.”
“I could teach you a few things about how to be a proper young mare,” Octavia suggested.
I scowled. “I don’t want to be a proper young mare. Also, where did that come from?”
She put on a faint, slightly awkward smile. “You could at least learn to sit with your legs crossed.”
“I’m - I’m going to go finish the painting now,” I said, quickly getting up. I turned to go but realized that there was still something else I wanted to say while we were talking. “Actually, while I’m thinking about it, could I ask you to lunch tomorrow? There’s a café down the street.”
“It sounds good,” Octavia agreed. She gave me a look. “Also, where did that come from?”
“Just an idea. You said Fleur had a show tomorrow and I thought maybe you wanted an excuse to get away from that.”
She smiled. “Good thinking. See Millie, this is why I like you. You’re always very practical, if not exactly ladylike.”
I chuckled uncomfortably and went back outside. On the positive side, step one of my plan to force her and Vinyl to talk things out was now in effect. All I had to do was get Vinyl to the same café. I hummed a bit more as I returned to work.