Trixie just barely got her staff up in time to block a swing at her midsection on her right. Twisting her tool across her forelegs, she made to hit Bunsen with the bottom of her staff in an uppercut. Dodging the attack by twisting to his left and her right, he brought his staff back towards himself, recentering his stance and his hold. Thrusting his staff out at an angle, its arc was centered on her right shoulder as it came down. Sensing what he meant to do, Trixie teleported in a flash of magenta light and fireworks, reappearing behind him to lock him in a neckhold with her staff.
She smirked as she drew her hold a little closer to Bunsen’s throat, just enough to make him uncomfortable but not harm him, “Yield to me. The student has surpassed the master!”
“Have you,” he replied calmly, right before he slammed his hoof down on the tip of her right wall. While it did not hurt her, being a dense mass of keratin, it did cause her to flinch, and consequently loosen her grip. He swiftly brought his own staff back behind her head to grab just near the knap of her neck. Using his own body as a fulcrum, he flung Trixie over himself, launching her a few feet away to land in a pile of limbs and cape. Returning to his centered stance, he tapped the right end of his staff to his right hoof, and the hint of a smile was on the edge of his mouth, “Explain to me how you think so.”
Trixie looked up at him and threw her staff straight up into the air. Bunsen didn’t have time to react as he saw the staff vanish, only to have the rounded tip of it bury into his back, putting just enough force into him to knock him off balance and onto the floor face first a few feet from his pupil. She snickered a little at his unusual lack of coordination and his surprised expression, his glasses half falling off his face. He looked over at her, and his muted smile returned. They both picked themselves up and dusted off.
“Your capacity for quick thinking is getting better,” Bunsen declared, “and while you do occasionally get in a pinch, your unorthodox style gives you some fluidity of approach.”
Trixie grinned at his pronouncement, “So I’m doing very well then?”
“To be frank there’s only so many things left that I can teach you,” he replied as he took both of their combat staves and leaned them next to the fireplace, “There’s only so much magic I can help you with, and you’ve taken to your physical training in a way I’ve never seen before.” He turned back to her, “I suppose the only thing still uncertain is what you intend to do once you’re done here.”
Trixie’s smile shrank, and her thoughts drew her inward. She had been so thirsty to learn more, to do more, that she hadn’t really paid much heed to what the future held. She didn’t have much in the way of worldly means or possessions, which was a bit of a blessing and a curse. She supposed what really mattered was where she was going, not necessarily what she would do.
“I think I’ll stop in Baltimare first,” she said softly, “I haven’t seen my family in a very long time. After that…I’m not so sure. My chances of getting a new show off the ground are, well, limited to say the least.”
Bunsen could feel the uncertainty inside her from across the room it was so thick. “You have more talent than just what you could fit into a spectacle,” he said as he approached her, “You’re an intelligent mare; you can find something that fulfills you.”
She looked him in the eye, wondering where he was going with what he had said. He continued, bringing his hoof up as he spoke, “We are all like seeds. We can’t remain focused on what was or who we were. It is our function to germinate. Others can then see what things may have been hidden from us as we grow, whether they are skills, qualities, or relationships.” He paused for a moment, and then spoke again, “I know what your original dream meant to you. Perhaps it doesn’t have to die; it just needs to grow.”
Trixie blinked, and a contemplative frown appeared on her face. “What do you think I should do,” she asked.
Bunsen had been about to leave her for the day, and was even in the process of turning away when he heard what she said. He stopped in his tracks. This, as far as he could recall, was the first time she had asked for help. He’d certainly been more than generous with guidance and advice, but this was something new. He slowly returned to her, and in a legitimately inquisitive tone said, “Why are you asking me?”
Trixie looked back at him, and without batting an eye replied, “Because I trust you.”
The old pony unconsciously cocked his head a few degrees and confusion faintly appeared on his face. Eventually he looked back at her, scrutinizing her for a few seconds before he declared, “You should not offer me that luxury.” He turned away once again, and spoke over his shoulder, “I don’t know what you know. I can’t live your life. The best pony you could ask about your future is yourself.”
Trixie watched him leave, and as she did she wondered about what he had said first. Bunsen had always been honest with her, often to the point of bluntness, even when she had been unwilling to be honest with herself. What was it about what she had said that made him so unsettled? She wasn’t sure whether to feel hurt or not, but then she began to wonder if what he had said about trusting him was for his benefit or her own?
Hours passed. Once again Bunsen sat in his study by candlelight. He leaned his face on his right hoof, slightly rotating it in place as he considered the state of things. She was almost ready, but his own question penetrated his thoughts: What did he intend to do once she left? He had grown fond of her in his isolation. He was happy for the interaction with another pony. They had entered into a symbiotic relationship he now realized; each providing structure and order to the other. He gave her tutelage, and she gave him a reason to tutor. That time, however, was almost up. He blinked hard, and exhaled heavily into his hoof. Bunsen knew all too well about endings. He knew their nature intimately. Each time when contact with another pony he valued deeply was severed, he felt a shift in his soul, his very life. He hated the sense of upheaval it brought. He accepted it would happen again, as he did value this young mare deeply, but she had a future worth living for and he did not. It was not his intent, however, to leave her without a memento. He opened one of the lower drawers in his desk, drawing out a long rack of files.
He knew what he’d give her, should she succeed in one last trial. It was an old idea, born out of a joint research project with the Minotaurs in Labyrinth. It wasn’t initially intended for unicorn use, but he most certainly could customize it to her needs. With her natural talent as a lancer and bipedal fighting style it would prove a very effective compliment. As he took the prototype print down to his drafting table in the lab, he also noted that he hadn’t designed anything for another pony in a very long time; not since Punnett.
YOL 981
Three knocks resounded at the front door, each thud resonated an equal gap from the last. Bolera trotted to answer it, unsure of whom it could possibly be; it was too early for the postpony. Undoing the lock, she slowly opened the door, glancing through the gap between it and the frame to scrutinize who it could be. The pony she saw caused her to inhale sharply in surprise. It was a very grim stallion, one she hadn’t seen in almost two years.
“Good afternoon, Bolera,” Bunsen declared, the level of calmness surrounding him almost unnerving in its stasis, “Is Punnett available? I’d wish to speak with him.”
She nodded, with a trickle of nervousness seeping into her body language, “Yes, he’s here. Let me quick fetch him. Come in, please!”
“My thanks,” he said: a normally warm statement simply hung in the air, empty of feeling, more the result of a mechanical process than heartfelt emotion. Bunsen escorted himself into the living room.
“Would you like anything to drink,” His hostess asked before he sat down.
“Tea please, if you have it, with three cubes of sugar.”
Bolera blinked, but let her feelings slide before she nodded and called out towards the study, “Mio Marito! We have a guest!”
Bunsen heard the voice of his friend faintly through the wooden door, “Do they really need me? I’m close to getting it worked out!”
“You’ll want to stop for this one I think,” as she walked away towards the kitchen, “It’s Bunsen.”
“Bunsen,” he heard Punnett murmur his name. He was momentarily surprised by the sharpness of his hearing now, but it was a very quiet afternoon he rationalized.
In not too long of a moment Punnett emerged from the hallway into the living room, and his eyes grew wide. His friend blankly looked back at him, as if things were completely in the norm.
With uncharacteristic enthusiasm Punnett galloped to his best friend and threw his forelegs around him, letting out an involuntary burst of joyous laughter, “You’re back! You’re well! This is the best thing I’ve seen in weeks!” He drew out to look his friend in the face, “I’m living in an impossible world!”
“Indeed,” Bunsen replied, without the tiniest shred of happiness in his voice, “I could very much say the same. When I returned to the RSD I fully expected you’d be there, yet I found out that you had willingly sought termination some eight months ago.” Punnett’s smile began to drain away, but Bunsen pressed on, seemingly unaware, “I dug deeper; your psychological evaluations revealed feelings of depression, agitation, and passive aggression towards authority.”
Punnett slowly backed away to sit on a floor cushion opposite his guest, before he replied, “So this is how we start off again after almost a year and a half? No, ‘Hi, how are you’?”
Bunsen blinked and shook his head a little, “I suppose that is true. I was just so surprised by your actions and the evaluations; they didn’t mesh with what I expected.”
The powder blue unicorn leaned back into his seat and put his forehooves gently together, nodding his head slightly, “Well, a lot has changed since…we last saw each other. The doctors came back with a new prognosis on Cadence; that she would have less than three years, and the symptoms would only get worse. Given that there was a definite solution, but that it was being withheld from her, I allowed myself to become a little more,” he coughed a little, “surly than usual. I kept looking for another way to cure her leukemia though,” he then leaned in closer, and his voice shook a little, “and by some miracle I found one!”
Bunsen’s head cocked, “What do you mean?”
“I found an old book when I went out searching for ancient healing rights at random, and when I found it and I realized what it was saying I quit my job, putting all my time into understanding it without any measure of oversight.”
Bunsen shook his head slowly and brought his hooves up, “Punnett, this is insane. What book could possibly be worth risking your family’s future for? What did it promise you?”
Punnett began to smile again as he leaned almost out of his seat, “I found the journal.”
Bunsen’s brow furrowed and he rubbed his chin in confusion as he tried to think of what Punnett meant.
The unicorn repeated with added emphasis, “I found THE journal.”
Bunsen froze, and then turned to look his friend straight in the eyes. Punnett nodded with a smile.
“Impossible,” he exclaimed.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being your friend Bunsen it’s that our lives are bigger than impossible, and I’ve even been witness to it myself!”
Bolera entered the room at this point balancing a tray on her head. She gently placed it down on the coffee table near the both of them. “Thank you, sweetie,” Punnett gently said to her as she left to check on Cadence.
Bunsen reached out, scooped the three sugarcubes into his cup, and gently began to stir it with the spoon between his teeth. Punnett looked at him in abject surprise, which the earth pony did notice with a quick, “What”.
“In all the years I’ve known you you’ve never drank tea before.”
Bunsen looked back down at the drink, almost as if he were waking up and seeing it for the first time, saucer in his right hoof, with the cup balanced in his left. Part of his mind demanded he put the drink down, but the other part of him conquered his initial revulsion, and he gently sipped it. It was simultaneously vile on his tongue and exactly what he had wanted.
“Perhaps my palette is expanding,” he muttered, “and what do you mean, ‘You’ve been witness to the impossible’?”
Punnett shifted his haunches slightly “I’ve found a way to save my daughter, but the process to do so…it’s beyond any magic, any science previously seen by equinity.”
“And yet nopony previous who held this book has discovered this?”
Punnett put his hooves to his chest as he spoke, “I know it makes me a lousy scientist now to say it, but this book chose me. It’s incomprehensible to anypony else, but it appears to me as a cipher, and once I cracked it I found such incredible knowledge.” Punnett smiled at his friend, “It was an epiphany like no other.”
Bunsen’s thoughts brought up all sorts of alarms about what Punnett was saying, but he had to give him a chance to fully explain himself, “What was in the journal?”
“Almost seven hundred years ago Starswirl studied Princess Celestia’s physiology. What he described was something almost unreal. To be an alicorn is to be magic incarnate. All the things common to us mortals; eating, sleeping, aging, getting sick, they are a joke to the likes of an alicorn! An alicorn is not a natural stage of evolution: they’re created. Starswirl expected some level of worthiness was necessary for this process to succeed, but he never saw his theory completed, but I think I can do it!”
As Punnett finished he began to breathe a little heavier before he started to return to normal.
Bunsen looked at his friend, not betraying any emotion, his hoof obscuring his mouth.
The unicorn searched his eyes, looking for any sign that Bunsen understood him, that he believed him.
“How,” Bunsen declared with a frown.
“All my life I’ve been in pursuit of the secrets of DNA; how we’re all connected by chains of amino acids, lipids, and sugars. This is the secret though! This is the missing piece of Starswirl’s theory! An alicorn’s ‘worthiness’ is determined by their genetic makeup! Cadence has a better chance, if not the best chance any of us could have in this process.”
“Two donors: a pegasus and a unicorn,” Bunsen muttered to himself before returning his thoughts back to his friend, “In theory it makes some sense, but alicorns are said to be a mix of the three primary races. Where does the earth pony DNA fit in this picture?”
“My mother was one,” Punnett quickly replied, “How the process will work is a gigantic dose of transmutative magic. Given some preparatory compounds, once Cadence is exposed, the magic in conjunction with a great surge of energy should be enough to overcome the transformation threshold, curing her.”
Bunsen nodded slowly before he declared aloud, “This sounds absolutely insane. If a Solar Cultist from the old days before the Purge heard what you’d said, you’d be condemned for heresy of the highest magnitude. Even now, this is…How can you be certain Starswirl didn’t want this to remain lost forever? He respected the natural world; why is it our right to suddenly play the act of godmakers?”
Punnett grew visibly uncomfortable, rubbing his hooves together, looking away from him, “You’d think I’m crazy.”
“I am crazy,” Bunsen declared matter-of-factly, “After what we’ve seen, what I’ve seen, I don’t think normal is real anymore.”
The unicorn glanced back at him, “It makes no sense any other way, and it doesn’t make much sense even now as I say it, but I think Starswirl chose me to see this. When I was at my lowest, I woke up in a blanket I’ve never seen, received clues to the cipher protecting the book in writing that wasn’t mine, and I heard tiny jingling bells. Long range time travel is real, and I know I can’t prove it, what little evidence I have is barely evidence at all, but I solved the cipher, and I know things I can’t explain.” Punnett shook his head and laughed a little, “I can’t rightly call myself a scientist anymore. Do you really believe me though?”
Bunsen looked at him, considered everything that had been said, and flipped it over in his head, looking for weak spots. There were plenty.
“Wait,” Punnett declared, putting up a hoof as he left, and galloped to his study. In just a few seconds time he returned with a thin grey booklet which he gave to Bunsen. “My notes,” he said, “I can give them to you for a day, but I’ll need your response back by then. We have little time. Cadence turned eight while you were…away. She has less than a year now. Time is against us.”
Bunsen flipped through the pages. The translation was on the left side of each page, while quick script was written on the right, with a smattering of diagrams throughout.
“Given what needs to happen, I can only trust you to help make the mechanism for the procedure,” Punnett declared, “No one else would give me a chance, and that was just telling them about the gene modification part only.”
“If I do this I leave my right to call myself a scientist behind as well,” Bunsen declared as he looked up to his friend, “This is pure conjecture. There’s no evidence to suggest we are capable of even doing this. Are you willing to put your daughter’s life on the line just to see if this could work, something that could potentially harm her?”
“I’m certain of my translation,” the unicorn replied, “and I believe my transmutation theory will work. If you can build me a small scale apparatus for testing, I can prove or disprove this once and for all.”
Bunsen glanced once again at the book in his hooves, then back up at his friend. “I’ll consider it,” he declared, “but only if your theory, not your translation, proves persuasive.”
Punnett threw his forelegs around Bunsen once again; he did not return the gesture. “Thank you for believing me,” his friend exclaimed.
“I don’t know if I do Punnett,” he declared, “but for Cadence’s sake, if it’s possible, I will.”