//------------------------------// // 3 - Using Your Anti-Freeze For More Than Medical Reasons // Story: Poniocracy // by sunnypack //------------------------------// Chapter 3: Using Your Anti-Freeze For More Than Medical Reasons Humans have the remarkable ability to become simultaneously more intelligent and more ignorant when they group together. While animals generally make better decisions in herds or schools, humans are strangely capable of making rash, misinformed and highly emotional-driven responses within larger groups. These groupings are usually referred to as ‘mobs’. The concept of mob rule acts as the basis on which the entire set of guidelines for social interactions among humans is laid. One interesting aspect of social interaction is the ability for people to react to new stimuli by comparing notes passed down from years of experience in interacting with one's peers. It follows that those that are among the most socially adaptable, are beings that have had the most experience over the years. Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria for thousands of years, for example, had her mask of ‘calm, cool and collected’ down pat. It had worked quite well, bringing others up to her speed. Princess Luna, not quite the ruler of Equestria for thousands of years, but still pretty close, had taken to blasting down opposing voices with an even stronger voice. It worked for quite a while, at least until the ringing stopped. Discord, an even more ancient being than either of them, had taken to playing pranks on the locals and just generally went with the flow. He, of course, had become the most socially adaptable and nothing really quite fazed him. Most of us, however, since we do not have the benefit of such longevity, will tend to use a formula for conversation along the lines of, ‘if this works, then stick to it’. In the event of failure or something totally unexpected then, ‘panic’. In the event that these two maxims ever fail, not for lack of trying on either part, social anathema will ensue in the most dreaded form. Awkward silence. It was perhaps fortunate for Twilight that the only other occupants of the small non-fiction section of the Royal Canterlot Archives were currently incapable of speech. One strange creature that had been sleeping in a box for an unknown period of time was currently unconscious in front of her hooves. The other, the Cry-pod, was currently undergoing a small bout of existential crisis now that its primary function had largely been fulfilled. For organics, this would usually equate to large amounts of satisfaction and a certain penchant for festivity. Eventually, organics would move onto their next project in pursuit of life’s greater meaning—if in fact there were greater meaning to pursue. Unfortunately, the Cry-pod simply sat there, trying to process what the next step in its metallic life would be. It pondered heavy things. Things like: Do I have a metallic heart? Can my digital processor calculate the meaning of life? If I open another corn chip packet, I won't have enough salsa. If I open another salsa jar, I won't have enough corn chips. This was strange, since the Cry-pod had never eaten in its digital life. It may have been a blessing or a curse, but the whole portion of humanity’s philosophical musings were among the first of many cultural files corrupted in the Cry-pod’s memory bank. Perhaps that was for the best. The Cry-pod did some rough estimation and conceded that calculating the meaning of life would take 1.43 x 10^17 seconds of processing time. It figured that if that’s how long it would take, it should get started right away. So it got started right away. Twilight cautiously prodded and probed the mysterious box, but other than some strange energy flows moving through the console, it remained remarkably inert. After trying several times to elicit a response from the Cry-pod and failing, she concluded that perhaps the box had somehow broken itself. Which was amazing, since Twilight couldn’t conceive a way this thing could be talking to her if it weren’t for magic. Since the Cry-pod couldn’t help her with the strange creature, Twilight engaged on the only course of action available to her. She was going to tell the Princess. Just as she was about to teleport to the Princess with the strange creature in tow, she paused. What if the creature had an adverse reaction to magic? It was unheard of for sure, but that didn’t discount the possibility. Maybe she should leave the creature here? No, it could wander off, or make a mess, or hurt itself somehow. It hadn’t made a positive first impression. What Twilight needed was a plan, and she couldn’t think of one off the top of her head. She really needed to sit down and put her hoof to a quill and write up the appropriate response to this startling situation. She rubbed a hoof on her muzzle in contemplation. There was something she remembered, something about this place… Ah, that’s right! When she was a filly she had hidden a little parchment and some writing implements around here somewhere. She glanced at the shelves. Many years ago, she had painstakingly created a bound book that would stand out to her… There it was! Still in mint-pristine condition! How had the librarian missed it after all these years? Clearly, Starswirl the Bearded’s Guide On Thaumalogical Compositions and Concoctions was spelt wrong. It’s ‘Thaumamalogical’ not ‘Thaumalogical’! Duh! Twilight shook her head sadly, if it were her library she would have immediately spotted that error. Although, now she had reason to be grateful for the negligent librarian. At least she had a parchment and— Hang on, what’s that? ----- David woke up for the third time, this time, to feverish muttering. He shifted into an upright position as he regarded the source of anxious murmuring. There was that purple unicorn again, muttering to itself. “I could take him to the hospital, but then the Princess might not be pleased I brought him there first without consulting her. Maybe no one would notice if I brought a strange, hornless minotaur into the hospital? Argh, this would be so much simpler if I had Spike here. It might be okay… I only did an eye and hoof inspection—but it wasn’t very thorough. I’m not a doctor… Would a pony doctor even know how it works? Argh! What am I going to tell the Princess?” David decided that the talking purple unicorn might need some comforting. He had read somewhere that people sometimes needed ‘a sympathetic rock to weather the emotional storm.’ To date, he still didn’t know what that meant. He tried the only thing he could think of. “She’ll be right, mate,” he said awkwardly, patting the unicorn gingerly on its head. He figured that it must be a ‘she’ given the tone of its voice. He made up his mind at this point. It was female until he saw evidence to the contrary. The purple unicorn shook her head. “The Princess? I’m sure she would understand… but this is such an unusual circumstance.” “There, there,” David comforted, continuing to pet the stressed equine. He always had a soft spot for animals and children. Maybe this was his subconscious’ way of coping with the shock of coming out of cryostasis? He seriously considered the idea that he might have acute brain damage. He was uncomfortable with this line of thought, but quickly decided that such things were out of his control. He kept on petting. The unicorn suddenly flinched under his hand. “AAAAAAAHHHH!” she screamed shrilly, back-pedalling wildly. “AAAAAAAAAAHHH!” David screamed back. “WHY ARE WE SCREAMING?!” “I DON’T KNOW, MAYBE IT’S THE STRESS OF THE SITUATION?!” the diminutive equine yelled back. “IS THE SHOUTING HELPING?!” “YES…! NO…! MAYBE! THIS IS JUST SO RIDICULOUS! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO STILL BE SLEEPING!” “MAYBE I SHOULD BE! THIS WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO GO FOR A YEAR. HOW LONG WAS I OUT?!” “I’M NOT SURE, I’LL NEED TO CROSS-CHECK ARCHAEOLOGICAL RECORDS!” “IS THAT CONVENIENT RIGHT NOW?!” “NO, NOT WHILE WE ARE SHOUTING, AT LEAST!” “CAN WE STOP SHOUTING?! MY EARS ARE STARTING TO HURT AS WELL AS MY THROAT!” “YES, THA—“ *cough* *hack* “—seems like a good idea,” the unicorn finished hoarsely. She rubbed her throat with a hoof. David rubbed his throat sympathetically as he tried to come to grips with talking to a mythological creature in this tone of excessive volumetric verbal eccentricity. After a long pause, David tried to establish communications in a far more peaceful manner. He held out a hand. “I’m David,” he rasped. The unicorn glanced curiously at his hand before putting her hoof in it gingerly. David gently shook the hoof a couple of times. “Twilight Sparkle,” she replied apprehensively, slowly taking back her hoof as he let go. David glanced at the scattered pieces of parchment strewn around the floor between them. “So,” he croaked gutturally, “what are all these… drawings for?” Twilight cleared her throat. “They were plans… for dealing with you.” David’s eyes widened. He gulped anxiously. “Y-You mean… disposing of me?” he yelped, taking a couple cautious steps backwards. Twilight frantically shook her hooves in front of her suggesting that was, in fact, not the case. “N-No! That’s horrible, why would anypony do something like that?” David relaxed slightly. “True… The crayons don’t really lend an air of credibility to that idea,” he pointed out, gesturing at the colourful drawings. Twilight sputtered as she defended her creations from unfair critique. “Crayons were the only writing implements I had on hoof! Pictures are a perfectly acceptable way of expressing information and they aid in memory retention!” David folded his arms skeptically. “Uh huh,” he grunted in disbelief. Twilight rolled her eyes, tapping a hoof impatiently on the wooden floor. “Really! I just stashed them here as a filly so I could always take down notes!” David remained unconvinced, but he waved the issue away with his hand. “Alright… What do we do now?” Twilight opened her mouth, hesitated, then snapped it shut with a click of her teeth. She looked torn between choices. Her eyes kept flickering around as if thoughts were flying through her head and she was trying to track them with her eyes. Suddenly they stopped. She grinned sheepishly. “I think it would be a good idea to see Princess Celestia,” Twilight posed slowly as David leaned against a bookcase. The bookcase, being less stable than he expected, tilted slowly. David jumped back as it toppled over, causing a domino effect on the other bookcases down the aisle. Suitably shy, David gave a weak wave to Twilight as she sat with her mouth gaping wide for the umpteenth time today. “Hah, well,” David started, absently adjusting his clothes, “the odds are definitely stacked against me today.” Twilight could only manage a sound between strangulation and choking in response. David was grateful, judging from the glare that she gave him, that the brunt of her verbal assault was occluded by vocal muscle spasms. Finally, Twilight was able to muster a small amount of composure. She drew herself up and took a deep breath. “Okay, that must have been an accident,” she said, forcing a laugh. “If you would follow me, perhaps we might be able to sort out this mess with the help of the Princess.” David reluctantly followed Twilight. Royalty and unicorns? What next, magic? Inwardly he laughed. Magic. Good one.