//------------------------------// // III — Information Appreciation // Story: The Collegiate Conundrum // by Divide //------------------------------// III — Information Appreciation Your steps feel heavier than usual as you walk back towards your dorm. You always wondered what it would be like to make a deal with the devil—now that you have, you're not sure how to feel about it, although you're certain that you'll have a solid opinion soon. A guttural phrase detailing last night's obscenities echoes through the hallway as a pair of degenerates leave their own dorm behind you. It appears that the members of the de-generation have started going through the daily motions. You hurry around the corner before they can see you, and continue down the carpeted corridor to your own dorm. When you reach your door, you twist the doorknob and continue walking, expecting the door to be unlocked, just like you left it—your wallet was almost perpetually empty with the exception of a couple bank cards, and the only thing of real value you owned was your laptop, which was safely hidden under your mattress. The door fails to open and you walk straight into the door. Thankfully, your nose protected the rest of your body by taking all of the trauma. Swearing under your breath and pinching the bridge of your nose with one hand, you knock on the door with the other. No response. Gritting your teeth, you knock again and exclaim, "Rainbow?! I know you're in there! Lemme in!" The door opens a crack. You try to open it all the way, but the chain-lock keeps it from moving. A single eye looks up at you through the slit. "Who's there?" Rainbow asks, feigning ignorance. "You damn well know who's there," you mutter. "Now let me in!" "What's the password?" You glance behind you. Thankfully, there's nobody out and about to see you locked out of your own home. You silently count to five in your head before answering. "Open sesame?" Rainbow disappears for a few seconds before returning. "Wrong password." You throw your arms up in the air. "Then I don't know the password, Rainbow. Please: let me in." Your words were drenched in acidic sweetness. "You don't know the password to your own device? How do you use it then?" Wait, what? "What 'device'?" you ask. "This one." Rainbow disappears for a moment before returning to the crack. You can see that she's holding onto your computer, which is running and stuck on the log-in screen. "Did you forget?" "Hey—did you go searching through my stuff? Put my computer back!" "Tell me the password and I'll let you in, okay? Deal?" Of all the—fine. Whatever. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really matter if Rainbow Dash knows the password to your laptop or not. Besides: all your porn is very well hidden. She'll never find it. "Alright," you sigh. "The password is 'cabbage', lowercased." Confusion shows in the solitary eye that you can see. "Cabbage?" "Yeah. Cabbage." "Why is it—?" "Don't ask. It's a long story." You hear a couple of keyboard clicks and then the start-up jingle. The door opens fully mere seconds after, and you hear the bedsprings groan as she hops onto her bed. At least Rainbow is true to her word. As you shut the door behind yourself, you glance right and see her lying on her stomach, frowning at the computer screen. Her left, oversized ear twitches towards you as the floor cracks underfoot. Her legs below the knee are bouncing up and down, and where feet would be on a human, there are a pair of hooves instead. Despite how human Rainbow Dash acts, you still have to remember that she isn't—and never will be. You shake your head and begin to check over your area to make sure that the laptop was the only thing Rainbow took. She may be true to her word, but she doesn't seem to know squat about personal space. Thankfully, the rest of your possessions seem to be in order. You look back at Rainbow to find her frown growing in size. It's almost comical how annoyed she looks. "Rainbow," you begin, your voice laced with forced cheeriness, "what seems to be the problem?" "It doesn't work properly. See?" You severely doubt that. You walk over to her bedside and peer at the computer screen. Everything is as it should be: the desktop is exactly the way you left it, and there doesn't appear to be any error windows cropping up. "I don't see the problem." "I can't move the—the thing!" You look down and see Rainbow aggressively sweeping her finger across the track pad. The cursor remains practically stationary in the centre of the screen. It only moves a few millimetres after even her most aggressive swipes. "It doesn't work!" You nudge her hand out of the way and trace a figure eight pattern on the smooth surface. The cursor follows the pattern exactly. You chuckle when you realize why it doesn't work for her. "It's your hands," you explain. "The sensor is built for human hands, not Equestrian ones." "So... I can't use it?" Rainbow sounds extremely disappointed. You sigh. "Give me a minute and I'll find something that lets you use it," you offer. As you begin searching your side of the room for a mouse, you ask, "How do you know how to use a computer, anyway?" "Is that what it's called? A computer?" You nod. "I sat beside a human using one on the... flying machine." "Airplane?" "Yeah, that was it. On the airplane." "Hmm." The mouse isn't where you thought you left it, so you begin systematically searching through all of the locations it could possibly be. "What did Mister Teller talk to you about?" "Oh, he told me about all of the different courses I'll be taking. He also welcomed me to college and said that I would have a wonderful time here." Rainbow's face scrunches up like she tastes something sour. "What's wrong?" you ask. After scrounging for a short while, you find the mouse underneath your dresser. You pick it up and walk back over to Rainbow Dash. As you connect it to the computer, you add, "Feeling homesick already?" She nods. "Yeah. I miss my friends. I miss my town. What I miss the most, though, is flying." "Flying?" You glance at her wings. "Oh, right. Of course. Flying. How could I forget?" Rainbow Dash flaps them once, lightly smacking the back of your head with one of them. "I can't fly very well here. I can barely keep myself in the air. When I first came here, to Earth, I landed flat on my face instead of soaring." You stifle a laugh. "Hey! How would you like it if suddenly your legs didn't work?" "I'm actually quite terrified of becoming paralyzed. Sorry," you quickly apologize. "I just imagined that happening, and I couldn't help myself. You falling on your face and all." She hits you in the back of the head with her wing again, this time harder. "I said I was sorry! Sheesh." After thinking for a moment, you remember what you were going to ask. "Why is it easier for you to fly in Equestria than Earth?" Rainbow shrugs. "Something about different laws of physics. Or the lack of magic. Or the air content. Hard to remember egghead stuff." Hmm. You always wondered on the more incorporeal aspects between Earth and Equestria. "For what it's worth," you begin, "I'm sorry that your wings don't work as well as they should. I really am. I've been stuck on the ground my whole life, give or take an airplane flight or two, so my words probably don't mean much. But I'm still sorry." "...Thanks." An awkward silence hangs in the air. You break it by showing Rainbow Dash how to use the mouse. "What is it that you're looking for on my computer, anyway?" You see a twinkle in her eye. "My friend Twilight told me about something called the 'Internet', where you can find anything. Is that true?" You nod. "Pretty much." "How do I get there?" "I'll show you." Five minutes and a quick course of 'Internet for Beginners' later, you have Rainbow Dash using the Internet like a professional. Naturally, you put on the child protection applications on your browser so that Rainbow doesn't stumble upon something that'll scar her for life. You leave her to her own devices, and return to your own: namely, going over your thirty-page essay one last time. As deeply involved as you are with your work, it takes Rainbow calling your name three times in progressively louder fashion to rouse you. "Yeah? What?" you ask. "I'm hungry. When's breakfast?" You check your phone, which also serves as your watch. "About twenty minutes until the café is open. I'll let you know when, okay?" "'Kay." You're about to return to your essay when you realize that everyone and their mother will probably be swarming over to get a look at Rainbow Dash. Just the fact that she was here would probably make the paper until she left. You sigh and rub your forehead when you realize there's no way around it, but a small smile appears when you realize that today is half-off waffles day. They say that revenge is a dish best served cold, but maple syrup is best served warm.