//------------------------------//
// Bridges, 5 
// Story: Shears 
// by Antikythera 
//------------------------------//

After his stubby legs lead him to the library and he shuts the door that Twilight left open, Spike finds her lying on the middle of the floor, legs splayed straight out, head down. "Twilight, it's okay! That pony was probably just crazy or something," he says. Spike doesn't know what will help, but it's a pretty good try. He puts a hand on her shoulder; she doesn't respond. He looks around, mind grasping. "Do you wanna spend like half an hour looking through the books, before we go check on the preparations?" He sees one of her ears twitch, and feels a small weight fall away.

She doesn't say anything, but gets up anyway, and brushes her mane out of her slightly damp face with a hoof. She gets to know the library. Ponyville's isn't nearly as big as Canterlot's, or even her own home, but it's respectable; it's well organized, and though there aren't many shelves, the ones there are are almost filled to capacity. Of course, Twilight beelines for the magic theory section.

Spike, doubtful that he's really done enough, says, "I mean, you'll probably never see that pony aga—"

"I don't wanna think about it anymore, okay? I'll be fine."

"Okay, Twi."

She feels conflicted about what she finds. On one hoof, it's a small section; on the other, what few books there are are almost all ones she's never heard of before. The Classical Element Controversy, The Conjurer's Guide to Alchemical Reagents, In Search of Lost Time Magic, Labeled Trees and You, Bale University's Intermediate Magic Exercises and Solutions... Her eyes glaze over a little, until she realizes that there's probably a reason she's never seen them before. A small library like Ponyville's wouldn't be held to quite to the same standard she's used to. Still, she feels confident enough in her ability to separate the chaff to pick up a copy of Intermediate Nonstandard Infusion and open it to the introduction.

Infusion is generally categorized into one of two types: alteration (imbuing an object with the properties of another spell) or suspension (a method of delaying the activation of a spell, to be triggered at a later time). For example, infusing a gem with a projection alteration will simply yield a more durable stone (albeit with some possibly surprising caveats—see section 6.1), whereas a projection suspension will only manifest in the presence of magical flux, while failing to trigger upon physical force. However, the suspended spell will decay considerably less quickly, because it is not continuously discharging its magic. Thus if one is worried about dropping her gem and shattering it, an alteration barrier is best; if she wants it to be defended from magical attacks, a suspension is the better tack. This illustrates that each of the two has its role in a serious magician's toolkit. 

Twilight knows introductory infusion theory like the back of her hoof, but after her earlier failure, she doesn't deserve to skip past section 1.1.





Forty-five minutes later, Spike knows he can't wait any longer to tap her on the shoulder. "Hey, Twilight, we should really get started on the day," he tells her.

Superposing conjured materials via alteration infusion is widely considered dangerous. However, recent advances in transmutation (cf. A Quasistable Measure-Theoretic Method of Lattice Intersection by Waterwheel) have afforded material coincidence a much needed stability, both in formal grounding and in practice. Extremely fine-tuned dynamic physicality scaling is a must for a stable superposition; this entails a complicated array of interdependent metrics both infused in the gem and factored into the conjuration. Improper calibration will lead to spontaneous dissolution at best and explosive ejection at worst.

"Twi?" Spike shakes her, gently.

"Huh? Oh, is time almost up?" she says. She really wants to check the publication date of her book.

"Yeah. We should get moving," he says.

"...Okay." She levitates a bookmark from her suitcase to the fold in the book. She thinks about slipping a barrier in between the pages as well, but there's no way she could maintain concentration all day. After she closes the book, she takes a second to ground herself, and gets up from the bench. She pulls out the to-do list she obtained with her train ticket at the Canterlot station. First up is the catering; Twilight is to visit Sweet Apple Acres and ensure everything is in order. 

As she walks away from her book, it's difficult to pry her gaze away from it. She knows it will be several hours before she will see it again. There are several ponies presently standing between her and further study. But it's straightforward enough to convince herself: Celestia did not pay her way to Ponyville for a night so that she could read. Twilight breaks her focus on the book, walks to the door, and reenters the world.





Sweet Apple Acres, a couple minutes' walk southwest of Ponyville, looks like the apple capital of Equestria. Acres indeed: the hills roll on as far as she can make out. Every tree is loaded with apples, and every apple is almost platonic in color and form. The barn, too, is impeccable at first glance, as if every barn ever constructed had referenced this one through time. It's into this barn (large enough to apparently include living space) that Twilight finds a burnt orange earth pony tugging a cart full of the farm's namesake apples.

"Um, excuse me? My name is Twilight Sparkle," Twilight probes, hoping somepony in the town is capable of speech beyond gasps. "And I'm—"

In an instant, the nameless mare is shaking her hoof and grinning. "Well, howdy! Nice to meetcha, Miss Twilight Sparkle! The name's Applejack, what can we at Sweet Apple Acres do ya for?"

Twilight attempts to withdraw her hoof as soon as she realizes what's happening, but it's another few seconds before Applejack lets go. "I'm, um, an emissary from Canterlot, and, uh, I'm here to supervise preparation for the Summer Sun Celebration. Are you in charge here?"

"Gee, somepony on a mission for the Princess! Well, we in the Apple family like to think of the farm as a team effort. The whole family's in charge!" Applejack says. She enters the kitchen and wheels out a cart, and Twilight sees it's filled  with all sorts of desserts. Spike makes an audible gasp. "But the food's goin' great. We're doing apple pie, apple strudel, apple fritters, caramel apples, apple pancakes with apple butter and applesauce—"

"Uh, wow, okay, well. That does sound adequate." A pony named Applejack with three apples as her cutie mark, part of the Apple family, who own Sweet Apple Acres, an apple farm, making only apple-themed food. Fancy that. It's a bit odd to be serving primarily confections at a ceremony that starts immediately before sunrise, but at least there are pancakes for the normal ponies. She turns to leave. She's never met anypony half as outgoing and cheery as Applejack, and something just out of hoof's reach about it makes her uncomfortable.

Applejack speaks up, at a slightly higher register: "W-wait! Don't go just yet! Don't you wanna try somethin'?" Spike takes a step closer to her, but then notices Twilight's gesture waving him along.

"I'm, ah, not really one for sweets." Twilight starts trotting away. Spike tries to give her a meaningful glance, but she's looking dead ahead as deliberately as she's ever done anything.

"Well, uh, nice to meetcha! Hope I see you later?" Applejack calls to her, somehow shaping it into a question.

Twilight gets a couple meters down the road, staring at her hooves. She wants nothing more than to progress to the next task, but something starts tugging at her. She slows, then gives in and stops midstep. Turning, and finding Applejack still gazing in her direction, she gathers herself and starts trotting back. She's not going to disappoint the Princess twice in as many days.

"Hey, Applejack?" she says.

The orange pony's mouth curves back up. "Yeah? Didja change your mind?"

"No, I... just thought of a question."

"Shoot."

"What if somepony's allergic to apples?" Twilight sees Applejack's ears lower a fraction, and revels in catching such a tiny piece of body language.

Applejack says, "Nopony's allergic to apples in Ponyville. Believe me, I'd know."

"...Okay. But there are lots of ponies coming from out of town. Do you know everypony in Equestria?" says Twilight, making a sweeping gesture with one hoof.

"...I s'pose not." Her ears sink a touch more.

"Then what are those ponies supposed to eat? Or, Applejack, what if they just don't like apples?"

Applejack's ears droop all the way. "...I dunno."

"I have to request that there be apple-less options available for guests with nonstandard diets. Sorry for the inconvenience."

"I guess we could make some pancakes"—she gulps—"without apples. I'll make it happen. Neither of them knows what to say for a moment, but then Applejack continues, "You sure you don't wanna take a caramel apple for the road? Bein' a unicorn an' all."

Reign it in, Twilight. Give a little. "...Sure." She smiles, trying to mean it. Applejack grabs one off the tray; Twilight pulls it over to herself. The coating is perfectly uniform and is so thick she can see her reflection in it. She never thought she could describe a caramel apple as immaculate.