//------------------------------// // Life In Canterlot // Story: Life Could Be A Dream // by TheAmazingMe //------------------------------// My desk-mate nudged me. I looked up into the calculating gaze of the most judgmental pegasi I'd known to this point of my life. My boss. He'd suddenly appeared in our bull-pen. Well, that or I was daydreaming again. Worse, he must have asked something, because he was looking around for somepony to answer. As I put all this together, I failed to avoid eye contact and accidentally attracted his attention. "Perhaps you have an idea on how to feature the latest trend, Mr. Story?" Hard Deadline said, breaking through my morning daze. Curiously, the world snapped back into focus. Clear as day, the lead editor of Celerity Magazine stared me down. Our trending fashion magazine was small, occupying a single two story building with our printing facility on the lower floor. Hard Deadline had taken the company from the brink of extinction to the biggest magazine in notoriously fickle Canterlot. Most magazines were based in Manehatten or Vanhoover. With how quickly trends changed in the royal city, it was hard to keep track in time for printing. "The latest trend...um of course, Mr. Deadline." What did he want from me? I wondered. I'd already turned in an article for the next issue and it had been approved. I looked back down at my notepad in a vain attempt to search for clues. It was blank; the traitor. "I..." I froze. Here I was, the least stylish writer at the fashion magazine. My reddish brown coat tended toward shaggy and unkempt. My black and white mane fared no better. The shock of white hair and my black glasses made me look much older than I was. My white button-up shirt sported more than its fair share of wrinkles. About my only good points were my hooves and horn, as I was meticulous in their care. As usual, my mind easily jumped to the worst conclusions. I'm already a bad fit at this fashion magazine. Not to mention my daddy got me the job. How could I sit here with a blank notepad and expect to keep this job? Why hadn't I thought to keep up with Trenderhoof's latest article? Oh, Celestia! What if Mr. Deadline decides to fire me? In my mental panic, I failed to note the awkward silence building around me. Stylo coughed in an effort to get my attention. I barely registered the noise as I looked up in confusion. Deadline was staring at me, his expression half-impatience and half-worry. Or maybe it was pity. "But of course, zeh Antique trend can 'ardly be called nouveau, non?" My deskmate interjected. The jet-black stallion in question was a Prench pegasus. I mouthed a silent 'thank you', which seemed to annoy him. Deadline hadn't seen that, having turned his trademark glare onto my reluctant savior. "Puissant, when I want your commentary I'll grab a translator. Get back to the article you owe me on that new salon in the Prench Quarter." "Oui, monsieur." Stylo said as he bent back over his writing pad. "Story!" Deadline barked as he turned back to me. "Yes, sir?" I replied. I willed my nervous forehooves to stop shaking. I placed both hooves down on my desk to steady them. If he was going to fire me, I didn't want to look like a total wimp. "An interview." He said decisively. His meaning eluded me. "Pardon?" "No pardon for you; you're going straight to the execution." Had any other pony said it, then that might have been considered a joke. As it was, his choice of phrases kept my fear of job-termination alive. "You've been avoiding this type of article, I'm sure. I want an interview with an antique shop owner in Canterlot. And I'll need it by the end of the week. This month is our yearly oversize issue and the schedule for printing has us bleeding for time." A chill went through me. I'd turned in a review and a few other small bits for the annual big issue. Not to mention. I didn't have any friends in the antique business. My parents would know, but it was bad enough that my father got me a job. I wanted to make my own way. "Sir, I've already written..." Deadline cut me off. It was rare that he let anyone talk back to him. I really shouldn't have tried to argue. "I'm aware of your work. Think of this as a growing experience. Now get to it!" He commanded. Before I could so much as breathe, he turned and stalked off to go terrorize another pony. Puissant looked back up at me. I don't know how long I sat there staring after the editor, but it was long enough for my deskmate to notice. "Vie?" He asked, trying to get my attention with the nickname he gave me. "Oh, c'est la Vie?" He called again. I turned to him, my brain finally realizing that I still had surroundings. "Les carrotes sont cuites, as my maman would say. It will do you no good to sit and stew. Did you not realize? Ze 'new trend' article is a feature. Zis is your chance to shine. You have a feature on the big annual issue!" He'd obviously meant to encourage me, but the color drained out of my face. He actually had to poke me with a hoof to bring me back to reality. "What do I do? I don't have connections with any antique dealers!" I said, a touch more desperate than I realized. He shrugged. "Je ne sais pas! I don't know. I've been at zis place for much less time. Couldn't you simply go to a boutique and introduce yourself?" "I guess I could..." The thought of putting myself out there like that. I was still painfully shy. This was the most I'd ever really said to Stylo and we'd shared a space for two months. "With this city's history, there are antique dealers all over. I haven't been in one since mom..." I cut myself off. I didn't want to talk about my mother. Stylo seemed not to notice. He tossed a hoof in the air casually. "Take a friend. Un bon ami would be, 'ow you say, moral support." "Would you...?" I began, but trailed off as he looked at me strangely. "Non." Stylo replied simply. "I 'ave my own work to do, mon ami. You do 'ave friends outside of work, oui?" A certain earth pony came to mind. "As a matter of fact, I do." I stood, using my magic to pack *** I restrained myself to a trot as I screamed inwardly. There were so many ponies on the streets at this time of day. Usually, I avoided the rush and left the office late. Leaving to meet my best friend and talk him into antiquing seemed like less of a good idea. Ducking into an alcove, I caught my breath while pretending to look through my shoulder bag. I just had to keep it together. Luckily, I made it to the Canterlot Courier Center (aka the Triple C) and reveled in the open space of the center's lobby. The receptionist was a kind pony I'd met a few times before, but I still had to muster up the courage to ask about my best friend, Sogni diVolare. "Um. Excuse me, but is Sogni back from his runs yet?" I asked. The pegasus looked around her desk and shuffled some papers to find a schedule. "I think so. He should be in the break room. Go ahead on back, Life." She replied. I blushed, having forgotten her name. "Thank you!" I said as I hurried off to avoid more conversation. If there was one thing I hate, it's forgetting names; it made things so much more awkward when someone remembered my name. The third left took me to the break room. With how much Div worked, I'd been here often enough to remember that. For whatever reason, remembering places I'd been was easier than remembering other pony's names. I looked about, somepony had dimmed the lights to about half. Adjusting my glasses, I gave up and called out. "Div?" "Ly, is that you?" A head rose from one of the large cushions on one side of the room. It made me jump a bit before realizing that the shadow I'd taken to be one large cushion was actually Div lying down. "Sorry, somepony must have seen me napping and dimmed the lights." Div got up, stretching nervously. Realizing how sore Div must be after a long shift, I motioned for him to lie back down. "I can find the switch!" That had been louder than I'd intended. Chuckling softly, Div sat on the cushion and waited. I fumbled around a bit at first, actually managing to turn the lights out completely before returning them to normal. When I looked back at my friend, Div was smiling kindly. Sogni diVolare was a cobalt blue earth pony with white muzzle and hooves. While my own mane was a jumble of black with a white shock, Div's all white mane was combed back in fine order, even after running around town all day. His short white tail twitched, brushing against his poppy blossom and mercury symbol cutie mark. Div patted the cushion next to his. No words needed, I took the invitation. "What's up? You don't usually come this early." Div asked. "It must be crowded out there still." "Traffic wasn't too bad." I lied. Div gave me a skeptical look. I went on to deflect his questions. "I've got a feature to write for the big annual issue." "I take it that's not as good as it sounds." Div went into his saddlebag next to him and pulled out a comb. I sighed, his attempts at taming my coat and mane were usually fruitless as far as improving my looks. It did help me calm down, so I nodded and let him try and sort out my hair. "So, why isn't that as good as it sounds?" "Deadline wants me to get an interview with an antique shop owner." I explained. "I've never done an interview; I have no clue what to ask. Add in the fact that I don't know any antique ponies. And, lest I forget, it's a feature article in the biggest issue we publish all year!" I sighed and rested my head on my forehooves. "The pressure is just unreal." "Well, we're pretty close to the shopping district. Do you want to try a few stores today?" Div asked as he moved from my mane to my back. After a few passes, he paused. "Are you supposed to be shedding, or is all your hair falling out due to stress?" I turned my head around to see the comb full of reddish-brown coat hair and blushed. "Um, probably both." I levitated a nearby wastebasket and brought it over to us. Div shook out the comb and really went to work on ridding me of loose hairs. "I don't want to keep you on your hooves any longer than you need to." "I don't mind." Div said, waving his free hoof. Just like him to offer help so casually when it would cost him physically. "I mind! You start early and get home late enough as it is. What kind of friend would I be if I made you walk after you've been running around Canterlot?" Div shrugged. "We don't get to spend as much time together, so I'll take what I can get!" Div said emphatically. I sighed, feeling guilty for not making more time for my best friend. He was right; it had been at least two weeks since we'd gotten together for any real length of time. "When is your next day off?" "Tomorrow, actually. I don't really have any plans, so we can start whenever you'd like." Div said happily. "Um, just do me a favor?" I looked up at him. He was shaking out the comb into a wastebasket full of reddish-brown hair. "Brush your coat before we start." Sometimes even I'm amazed by how red my face can get. *** "You're not leaving like that." Div stated as I opened the door. I glared at him through half-lidded eyes. "Div, it's I-don't-even-know o'clock in the morning. The sun is barely out." I protested before yawning, When I opened my eyes again, they went wide in surprise. "What's with the small cart-load?" Div pushed his way in hauling the three saddlebags he had tied on. "Well, you'll need what I have here and the time to look presentable." "Thanks Div." I said sarcastically. "Your confidence in me is astonishing." "No problem!" He replied, willfully ignoring my snark. "Now do I have to bathe you myself or will you get in the tub already?" Conceding defeat, I went to start a bath. At the very least, I could snooze a bit in the tub. Or so I thought, until Div barged in as I sank into the water. He plopped two bottles on the counter and another three on the side of the tub. I tried to cover my underside to keep some dignity. Div rolled his eyes. "If you'll notice, neither of us are wearing clothes." "I'm in the tub!" I hissed. "Can I get some privacy?" Div waved a hoof dismissively and started pointing out bottles. "Make sure to use this one on your coat, that one for your mane and the last one for your tail." "Anything else?" I snapped. "Yeah, be out of the tub in fifteen minutes or you won't get any of the oats and fruit I brought over. And I'll finish whatever you haven't done in that time, so get cracking." He turned and trotted out the door, leaving it open. I used my magic to close it, only just barely remembering not to slam it. I had asked for his help, after all. I just hadn't expected... Two hours later, that I'd be ready to tear my neatly coiffed mane out by the roots as yet another outfit combo was put together, only to be disqualified due to a stray thread. "Why can't I wear my usual?" I whined. "I don't have all day to iron it out." Div said flatly. "It's not that bad." I sulked. "Hush, I have it!" Div pulled out a silvery white long sleeve button-up top and deep red close-knit sweater. The combination was simple and sporty; it also, although I wouldn't admit it, looked really nice on me. "Now we can go." Div announced proudly. *** I sighed as I looked hopelessly down the main road of Canterlot's shopping district. There were all sorts of antique dealers, from art to zebra carvings. No one wanted to talk about their pasts, how they were first inspired nor what life had taught them. How could ponies so focused on old valuable crap be so unwilling to share their own story? Then again, maybe my editor knew nopony would agree to an interview like this. I hung my head. That had to be it; I'd been set up for failure. Div and I stopped by a streetside cart on the more affordable side of the district. Luckily, there was a bench in the shade nearby. I sat while Div ordered for us. It had gotten warmer than anticipated, although thanks to Div's scent-layering I was still fresh as a daisy. "Hey, the street vendor says there's an antique store down the street. It's supposed to be the best antique book store in town." Div announced as he came back bearing vegetable kebabs. My ears flicked up. I loved antique books. I had to cast a deflective spell on my clothes before he handed my kebab over, but otherwise it was pretty good.. "Know anything about it?" I asked with renewed interest. "No, my delivery route doesn't come through this way." He admitted. We sat in companionable silence, in spite of my gloomy mood. I really did feel better with him here. Without Div, I probably would have given up after the first rejection. "Do me a favor, Div. Go see about hiring a cab. I don't think I'll be up to walking home at this point." I sighed, standing up. "You going solo? Are you sure?" I nodded. "I've streamlined my pitch. It won't be the end of the world if I don't get it today. I can always try again tomorrow." I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Div gave me a look and then took me at my word. As soon as he was out of sight, I crumpled. Well don't cry about it you stupid stallion! My inner voice piped up. You have one last lead. This is your last chance to keep your Celestia-forsaken job at that Celestia-forsaken magazine. You want to move back in with mommy? No? Then act like you have a pair and don't take no for an answer. My horn flared, my magic rolled up the sleeves of my button-up and sweater.. With newfound determination, I held my head and tail high and trotted down to the antique shop I'd been told about. "May I help you?" The mare behind the counter asked as if she very much doubted it. "I need to speak with the owner, if you would be so kind." I responded crisply. Already, I could tell we weren't going to get along. What a snob! "And whom may I say is calling?" Her attention was firmly on a catalogue on the glass case that she idly flipped through. She looked less than impressed. Pissed, I figured she would go in the back, take a smoke break and forget about me if I let her. If I was to get anywhere, I clearly had to change tactics and used my best arrogant Canterlot high society attitude. I practically pranced over and knocked the catalogue across the case. "You will tell them that a very important pony is here. I was told that this shop had some of the best antique books in town and that interests me greatly. Unless they, by some miracle, don't want what I have to offer them, then I expect to see them soon. I won't wait around forever!" "Y-yes sir, sorry sir. Right away sir!" Her attitude changed instantly and she disappeared quickly. My stomach turned flips at how poorly I'd treated her, but I maintained my air of coolness. The showroom pony made good time up the elevator and spoke to Genuine's receptionist who came out to personally escort me to the mare in question. We arrived at a very well-appointed office. "Can't you see I'm busy?" The owner drawled idly as she took time to line up her pool shot. A stallion stood holding a cue. He wouldn't have been noticeable given his black coat, but he was covered in glitter. And nothing else. "Excuse me Madam Artifact, but a gentlecolt is here asking about your books." The receptionist called softly. "Not one of the regulars?" She asked. Her accent was slight. It was a bit like Stylo's accent, but less refined. She had more gravel in her voice too. "No, madam. He's a blood bay unicorn with a white streak in his black mane. His cutie mark is a scroll with an ankh." She spoke as if I wasn't behind her and to the left. If this Mademoiselle Artifact just turned around, she could see me. "Egyponian?" I'd actually gotten that a lot. "Possibly, I hadn't thought to ask." Neither did she deign to ask me now. What was going on? Was this some kind of game to them? "Age?" She asked, her game of pool apparently forgotten. "Post-collegiate adult is my best guess, Genuine. Although he looks a bit younger; he appears very high-strung." Again, I wondered at the sheer rudeness. She could just as easily ask me, I thought. "Enough. I suppose I should see the bastard myself. I have a feeling this will be entirely pointless." Said, handing her cue to the stallion. Genuine turned around. One glance at me and I knew this would be awkward. Genuine Artifact, a rich chestnut earth pony, regarded me with one eye, the other covered by her long curly black mane. She was dressed a bit like a gypsy in vivid dark silks and two gold hoop earrings. Her dress was stylish and sleek, fitted to her body like a dancer's. Genuine glared at the receptionist. The pony shrank and backed away. "I'll um, go get, ah..." She fled. Genuine looked after her as if she would deal with her later. "Clearly there has been a mistake." Genuine declared before I could so much as raise a hoof. How could she see through me so easily? I wondered. I decided to bluster through. "Excuse me, Ms. Genuine---" I began hautily, and was instantly interrupted. "Gen-u-wine not Gen-u-in. You can't have any idea what you're doing here." Genuine drawled. "Security!" "Now wait just a minute. I came here to offer you..." Genuine snorted. "What in the name of the sun do you think you could ever offer me?" "I'm from..." "Frankly, you could be from Saddle Arabia and I would give as many rat's tails as I do now. Which is none, by the way." Genuine turned around to sit at her desk as two large stallions in black suits appeared at either side of me. "No wait, please!" In desperation, I actually tethered himself magically to both of her rear legs. She looked over her shoulder. "You have got to be abso-lutely kidding me! Get him off of me, you worthless goons!" The dumb muscle heads tried pulling me away, succeeding only in pulling Genuine along with them. "Please! I'm from Celerity Magazine!" I cried before one of the hired goons deposited a hoof firmly in my belly.I maintained control of the tether spell. Barely. "Celerity? Are you kidding me?" She asked, looking over her shoulder at me. "If I'm lying, I'm dying." I said without thinking. "You have no idea." Genuine deadpanned. "I can guarantee a feature in our annual big issue. I'll just enough time for you to answer a few questions." "Oh for Celestia's sake! Why in Tartarus didn't you say so?" I almost lost my concentration at the sudden change in her tone. Was she just leading me on? "Now if you would be so kind as to release my hindquarters, I'm sure my assistant can find us a proper time." She waved the guards away. They exited the office. "You're...serious?" "I take my schedule quite seriously. You've already taken much of my free time today." Her tone was light, but the words were condemning enough. I released the magical tether. "Sorry about that..." "Oh please! In this town, you practically have to grab a pony by the ear just to get your point across. It's no stretch that you would grab me by my rear." She said, fluttering her eyelashes. I'm sure I blushed. "It was a reflex..." "A stallion who goes for the rear as a reflex? We might just get along after all." Even with how dense I can be; I could tell she was flirting. "Assistant!" The receptionist returned. She entered the room timidly. "Y-yes, madam?" "When is my next available dinner opening? I would like my usual table at Delmaneco's." "You already have a reservation there tomorrow." "I don't recall asking you to make that. Did I forget some business?" The mare shook her head. "No madam. You usually get a craving for Delmaneco's around this time of year. I took the liberty of making a reservation as a surprise." "So my favorite is in season again?" The mare nodded. "Good. Well, you can't go looking like that." She said, turning to me. I blanched. Delmaneco's was the oldest restaurant in Canterlot. It had started out as a humble eatery but in recent years had rocketed in popularity. Genuine saw my face and smiled. "My treat. Just do me a favor and make sure you don't roll your sleeves." There was no way Deadline would cover a meal at Delmaneco's. "It's customary for a journalist to..." She hushed me. "I invited you. It would be an insult for you to deny me that hospitality." I wavered. The rules did make exceptions when it came to preventing insults. "What time?" I asked. *** As I stepped out, I saw Div wave at me from a cab parked in front of the store. I trotted over and climbed in. He smiled at me. "So, how'd it go?"