//------------------------------// // 4 Everypony's Working for the Weekend // Story: Lifegiver // by Meep the Changeling //------------------------------// Lily - 14th of Solarus ‘15 EoH - Afternoon I set down my quill to give my horn a break. Even with biomantic notation, there is quite a bit to write down when transcribing a genome. I was about halfway through Scoots transcription, and to save time I was just writing what I saw without focusing on analyzing any of it. That would come later. At the moment, I had only two things on my mind. First, I needed to see an enchanter about getting some equipment made. Doing this by hoof would not be practical for a business. It did occur to me that perhaps I could ask Sky for help with equipment, but well, somepony who's parents donated kidneys to your parents isn’t really your brother. Even if you did use that donated DNA to patch so many holes in you you’d probably pass a relationship test. No… His parents were nice enough to humor me a bit with a family dinner, but there was no way that they really actually considered me family, right? Yeah best not presume to ask for help. I was just some kid their kindness allowed to live. Maybe an honorary family member of some kind but certainly not close enough to request help from them. I’d have to see what I could do locally. And definitely today sometime. Because hornaches. Second, Scoots DNA was messed up so badly I could tell it was abnormal just transcribing it. It’s amazing she wasn’t in a worse condition than she was. She looked, acted, and sounded for all the world like a normal pony, except for her wings. So she’d managed to develop properly. An impressive rarity for somepony unfortunate enough to have an extra X chromosome. Then again, it wasn't the usual extra chromosome. The extra X was only present in some of her cells based on the sample I had. XXX mosaicism is not the form of the condition I was familiar with. Fortunately, she seemed healthy enough. Though it was odd she didn’t have the normal tall stature of those with the condition. It would explain her under developed wing musculature, except her body would have been all over not in one area, so that was another weird thing. I didn’t know her well enough to see if she had a learning disorder… Perhaps she was just a carrier for the condition? Did this form of Triple X have carriers? Bah, it wasn’t worth thinking about with a hornache. I could compensate for the condition easily enough. Right now I had more important things to do. Like… Uh… I tapped a hoof to my chin thoughtfully before nodding slowly. “Yeah, enchanter. I should at least pick up a dictation quill.” Getting up from the utility room’s table, I slowly trotted down the hall to Brook’s room. Scootaloo had left home for her shift at some place or another. The name had escaped me. I don’t exactly remember things well when they are shouted at me while I am focused on transcribing all 23 chromosomal pairs by bucking hoof. Brook’s room had an interesting door. Because it was more of a bead curtain in front of a small area big enough for a pony to stand that was a notch taken out of a large plexiglass tank, with a small ladder and hole above the nearly ceiling high water level. As I stood there wondering how to knock or otherwise call attention to my presence, Brook slid into view, sticking her head out of the hole enough to talk. “H-hello. Do you need something?” She asked. “Yes.” I replied, doing my best to ignore her awkward tone as Scoots had told me that was the fastest way to get her to be comfortable around me. “I was wondering if you-” “Oh no!” She eeped, slipping back down into the water. “I’m sorry! Did I lick you sleepwalking last night? I’m sorry!” “Uh, well, no.” I answered. “I mean you did the first night I was here but I’ve kept the curtain shut and been using the top bunk since then.” “I’m so sorry!” She apologized in a distressed tone of voice. “I can’t help it… I um… At least you know I won't actually hurt you in my sleep now.” “Right,” I said with a short nod, “which is why I don’t care about a lick. I actually wanted to know something else.” “O-oh. Okay!” Brook said eagerly giving me a relieved smile. “So, what do you… You know…” I couldn’t help but smile a bit as she awkwardly shuffled her hooves on the tank rim. “Fräulein der Haifisch,” I began “Uh, what?” Brook asked, blinking. Well sort of, it looked like the black outer parts of her eyes were some sort of goggle like lens, with a pony like eye beneath. Not that they were artificial, but rather she had organic goggles. A neat thing I wanted to examine sometime. “It’s the way I do nicknames,” I explained. “In this language, that is ‘Miss the Shark’, anyways, could you please tell or show me where I can find an enchanter’s shop in town?” I asked. “Yes. I can tak-take you. I was going to go today anyways. I’m out of mana crystals… D-do you need to go now?” She asked. “Whenever you’re ready.” I informed, noticing the look of dread in her eyes. “I’ll be in the front room. Take your time.” I turned and trotted back into the hall. I would munch an apple or something while waiting for her to compose herself. “Thanks, Syr merlyn-pigfain.” Brook called after me. I turned around raising an eyebrow curiously. It wasn’t everyday I heard a language my translation spell didn’t know. “What was that?” I asked curiously. “A nickname. ‘Sir the Pointy-pony’.” She giggled. I blinked twice in confusion. Not because she referred to a unicorn as a ‘pointy-pony’. But because. “Y-you know I’m a colt?” I asked incredulously. “Yeah.” Brook asked in an odd tone. “W-wait? Do ponies get confused? H-how? You taste male!” I facehooved. Faust damn it! I look female, I like girl things, I sound like a mare, and I act mostly mare-ish... But for some reason insist on identifying as male, which I am, and the one way that apparently a pony could easily tell my gender… “Ponies do not normally taste one another.” I explained. “H-how have you not noticed Scootaloo calling me ‘her’?” “Aquin lacks gender terms… I’m not good with those yet.” Brook admitted shyly. “Uh, if… You know, it’s okay… Why haven’t you just told her, if she’s wrong?” “Because… It’s… It’s just easier to let ponies think I’m a mare. Almost everypony thinks I’m one anyways… Back when I cared more I’d have to lift my tail and just show somepony I wasn’t female.” I explained. “It couldn’t possibly be that hard to convince them.” Brook said slipping out of her tank and sliding to the floor as her tail shriveled and split into a pair of rear legs. I shook my head no. “It actually is. I act like one in most of the important ways anyways. Body language, personal likes, everything but thought process really. And if that sounds sexist, it’s not! I’m a biologist. I know what the baseline sexually dimorphic behavior sets are! ”I also know that ponies work a lot on visual, social, and scent cues… I smell, look, and act feminine. So I get labeled a mare, or a transmare, who's a bit of a tomcolt by about ninety-eight percent of ponies.” I finished, grumbling irritably with my ears laying back. “Oh.” Brook said with a small nod. “I understand.” “Do you?” I asked raising an eyebrow half sarcastically. “Yes.” She nodded. “I use my cloak and scarf to hide my teeth and eyes. But ponies still see my legs and my voice sounds a little of out of the water. Most ponies think I’m a burn victim… I don’t tell the truth because it’s easier and saves time not to. Also they would probably run away… Then never ever go near me again… And I need to be able to buy things…” Oh, crap, she did get it. And then some. I gave her a sympathetic nod. “I’m sorry.” “Me too.” Brook replied. “L-let's go to the store.” “Alright, lead the way, Fräulein der Haifisch.” I said stepping aside to let her pass through the narrow hall. “As you wish, Syr merlyn-pigfain.” She replied with a full-size smile. Lily - 17th of Solarus ‘15 EoH - Late Evening Two days of work isn’t that bad for getting an entire genome recorded. Sure, the notation system helps a lot, but I hadn’t done this in a while. I was a bit rusty. Which is why I wound up doing it twice. The first one was garbage. I got a quarter of the way to the finish line before realizing I’d made a mistake and couldn’t find it. Meaning I had no idea where the sequence began to go wrong. So I just started over. That’s the downside to biomantic notation. Sure, you can use it to record and express the information of all three billion-ish bits of a given genome in a reasonably readable text without losing anything, but if you get it wrong somewhere, everything thereafter will be wrong too. I had to tripplecheck the new copy, and I’d even gone ahead and done Rainbow’s sequence to make sure I was doing it correctly, because Scoot’s genome was… Wrong. Not in that I’d gotten the sequence wrong. I’d done it perfectly the second time. It all checked out. Meaning the impossibilities on paper, were realities in life. Scootaloo didn’t have XXX mosaicism, not in the normal sense. About fifteen percent of her cells contained the extra X, which is a normal ratio for the condition. However, in one percent of her cells which were not tripple X instead of the two X chromosomes which made up the majority of her genome, you had one X from one of the majority ‘donors’, and one from an entirely different genome from either of the two big donors. This mystery X seemed like it should be the extra X in the fifteen percent of tripled cells, but it wasn’t. The extra X was always either one of the majority doner’s doubled up on one cell. The mystery X never appeared in those cells. The mystery X was also never bonded to either of the other chromosome sets. It was bonded to a copy of itself. That shouldn’t be possible, for a number of very complicated reasons, and also some very simple reasons. But it was absolutely true. When fully examined by taking the chromosomes paired with all of the X’s, you had three entirely separate genomes, two of which made up ninety nine percent of Scoots, and one percent which made up the rest. Forty-nine percent from a unicorn. Forty-nine percent from a second unicorn. Both almost pure-blooded unicorns. One percent from a half-pegasus earth pony. But the mystery did not end there! Almost all of the unicorn genome was recessive, and all of the mystery genome was dominant. Ensuring that it’s Germane level mess of a genome would be the primarily expressed traits wherever those cells wound up. Yet the dominant traits in the healthy unicorn Genome would keep everything from being a total genetic failure. Scootaloo’s entire genome was not natural. It couldn’t be. It was impossible for any unicorn’s genes to be that purely unicorn! A point point-zero-zero-two percent ‘other’ was mathematically impossible given the reproductive and romantic history of our species. It was impossible for the sex chromosomes of one cell to be from the same donor! At least in ponies it was, if they were changeling cells that would be perfectly normal. But they were not shapechanged changeling cells, I checked for the organelles which would enable shapeshifting. Not there. It was impossible for somepony to have a three parent genome! At least naturally it was. I didn’t know how to do it myself, or even if biomancy could do it. But I did know that three hundred years ago a germane doctor did it in a petri dish. He called it mitochondrial donation, and won a prize for the medical novelty. I didn’t know it had ever been done a second time. It was in fact possible for a pony to have multiple sets of DNA. Chimerism isn’t too rare. What is impossible is for the percentage of ‘other’ cells to be just one percent! Chimerism happens when one twin absorbs another during early cell division, making the ratio closer to fifty-fifty. As Forelock Combs once said, ‘When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains has to be true. No matter how bizarre.’ The conclusion was inevitable. Even at a cursory reading. Scootaloo’s genome was artificial, probably created the hard way via in vitro fertilization, for some reason used three sets of chromosomes, and was either the work of a cruel artist, or the work of the luckiest amateur. “-und that’s the problem as simply as I can explain it.” I said, finishing explaining my discovery to Scootaloo with a weary sigh. She made a confused sort of face. I’d expected that. “Okay… So, I’m not exactly the most educated pony.” She said slowly in a frightened but diplomatic tone. “What does this mean for me?” “It means that your parents likely chose for you to be the way that you are.” I explained. “The underdeveloped wings, any other issues you may have had. That sort of thing.” Scootaloo nodded slowly. I could see the anger behind her eyes, it wasn’t directed at me, but it burned hot and bright. “Alright. But, again, aside from being very enraging,” she paused to take a short breath, “what is the problem with fixing my wings?” Fortunately, it wasn’t a big problem. Not for me. It would mean twice the manna, that’s it. “It means that replacing one of your chromosome sets won't be enough.” I answered. “That’s my fault. Remember how I used earth pony DNA to build up your wing muscles?” Scootaloo nodded. I continued. “Well, the only earth pony DNA you have is from that weird batch. I didn’t know that at the time… I assumed you simply had a percentage of-” “I know. Please, I’m trying to stay calm, and it sounds like you’re going to tell me you can’t help me because you messed up. I need to know. Can I fly?” Scootaloo interrupted urgently, ears laid back. I held up my hooves in defense. “Oh! Nein, nein! You will be able to fly. I can fix this, it’s not an irredeemable mistake!” Scootaloo sighed in relief, eyes closing as she shifted on the bench across from me, tension visibly leaving her muscles. “Good.” She said firmly. “What do we need to do?” “We need to get an earth-pony to donate a DNA sample as well.” I explained. “I’ll need to replace two sets of chromosomes. Because das- er, the weird sequence of cells now makes up your wings, und I have no idea what will happen from that. So we need to replace that, und also one from the unicorn cells.” Scootaloo shook her head slowly. “I still don’t get how I am ninety-nine percent unicorn, but am a pegasus.” I nodded in agreement. “Ja, that’s really weird! Almost all of the unicorn DNA is recessive, letting those one percent of cells dictate most of how you developed. Without, er, hold on.” I grabbed Scoot’s genome text with my magic, pulled the stack of parchment over, and flipped through it until I found the page I was looking for. Pointing to a specific sigil on the page I asked. “See this? This bit of DNA is the only reason any of you other than your digestive, circulatory, und reproductive systems are not unicorn.” “Right, and that’s my… what?” Scoots asked in the tone of somepony who knew absolutely nothing about- Oh. Right. Bad Lilly. She isn’t also a biologist. “Ah, well this is the bit which produces your body’s stemcells.” I answered. “Not the adult ones, but the special ones that construct your body’s specialized parts while in utero- er while you’re in the womb. “Based on your genetics, it had only a ten percent chance of being developed from the mystery DNA, but it was. So your body’s ‘scaffold’ so to speak, was built from earth pony and pegasi ‘blueprints’, but using unicorn materials. As a result, you have an earth pony like skeleton, but are otherwise pegasus, but all built from unicorn cells. “You’re lucky our species is polymorphic!” I finished with a grim smile. “Poly what?” Scoots asked, one ear flopping down. “Er, unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, we’re all the same species, just different subtypes. Meaning most of our cells are compatible with one another regardless of which of the three we are.” I explained. “I suppose thestrals would also be on that list, but I’ve never met one, nor examined their genome…” “Right… So, I’m a mess because my parents wanted me to be a mess. So we need an earth pony to donate some DNA too.” Scootaloo summarized. I nodded. “Ja. Oh, I do have a theory about why this was done to you. If you want to hear it.” She nodded firmly as could be imagined. “You’re bucking right I do!” “I think that your parents wanted a pure-blood unicorn foal,” I said as neutrally as I could manage, “so they used the services of some doctor or another to try und synthesize pure unicorn. Likely by removing or replacing elements of their own genomes. That can be done easily in a laboratory without biomancy. “But, something contaminated the batch. Meaning after your zygote was implanted, the mystery DNA caused you to develop into a pegasus, und your parents, which I recall being mentioned are unicorn supremacists, therefore hated you.” Scootaloo nodded, eyes looking down bitterly. “That seems about right.” I looked up at the clock. It was very late, I hadn’t eaten yet. Like, at all. Unless I’d had breakfast… Did I have breakfast? No. No I had not. I gently reached out and tipped Scootaloo’s chin up and gave her a smile. “Don’t be sad! You’ll still be flying by the end of the week. Also Apple Bloom told me Rainbow is married to her sister, meaning uh… Apple Cinnamon?” I flinched as the mare’s name entirely escaped me. Scoots sputtered as she held back a laugh. “It’s Applejack! How the hay do you forget a name that distinctive?” I blushed lightly. “It’s not distinct sounding to me. My full name is Azur Lily von Mareburg the Third, esquire… Applejack sounds close to Apfeljack, which is a common Germane name. Und well, Equestrian names are not even close to Germane names, making it hard to remember Applejack when thinking about an Equestrian.” Scootaloo blinked a few times. “Uh, what’s your full name again?” She asked. I rolled my eyes. “Azur Lily von Mareburg the Third, esquire.” “Seriously?” She asked, one ear pointing up and the other drooping. I nodded. “Ja, my grandfather is Azur Lily von Mareburg senior, my father is Azur Lily von Mareburg junior, making me Azur Lily von Mareburg the third.” I hated explaining that. “Okay,” Scoots asked slowly, “and the esquire bit means… ?” Great… Here we go. “It’s a title. My family, with whom I do not associate, is wealthy und politically powerful. Which is why I have a great education in a field I like… But aside from that I really don’t like thinking about them. “Esquire is a Germane title meaning ‘noble, but not powerful’. It’s basically a ‘not a peasant, but not important’ label. While I don’t care about prestige und rank, it is still a part of my legal name. So, I use it. But only for saying my full name.” Scootaloo nodded. “Yeah, I can understand that. Dash never uses her titles ether. Titles are kinda silly unless you’re actually in charge of something.” “Thank you for understanding.” I said in relief. Normally people would argue with me that using my rank and station was super important. “It’s nice to know somepony who shares my opinion.” She smiled for a moment, then slowly stood up. “Right, it’s late, and I’m hungry. Would you like to go get something to eat? The Hay Burger should be open. Besides, you’ll want a full stomach and a goodnight’s sleep for tomorrow.” I raised an eyebrow at her statement. “Uh, why?” “Because,” she said slowly and dramatically, “I like your idea of getting something from Applejack. It would make me also hers, and she already is my parent legally, since she married Dash. But, you’ll need to help me explain what we need and why.” “Why’s that?” I asked curiously. “Because,” Scootaloo said with an eye roll, “if I try and explain it it will sound ‘downright unnatural’.” She drawled in a rather good rural accent. Oh. Joy. Lily - 18th of Solarus ‘15 EoH - Morning I hadn’t expected a rural farm to literally be a five minute walk from the edge of Ponyville. That just made absolutely no sense until Scootaloo explained that Sweet Apple Acres was founded when Ponyville was just a hamlet, and caused the community to grow into the large town it had been before Princess Twilight’s castle turned it into a small city. It was rather refreshing to see a nice farm. The defensive walls put around Ponyville’s core, thanks to the Everfree forest’s apparently Eldritch nature, did mean buildings in the city’s heart had their view cut off. Perhaps nopony had thought to enchant the walls to let you look through them from the inside. I should suggest that. Regardless, the rows upon rows of apple trees were a welcome change from lawns, cobbles, stone, and old style buildings. Sweet Apple Acres was massive, as befitting a breadbasket level farm. Anypony buying an apple or apple product in all Equestria had a one in six chance of buying an apple from this single farm. With that sort of income, I’d expected some level of technological or arcane automation. There wasn’t even an aqueduct. Everything, literally everything, was done by hoof, and it was done by earth ponies. The one exception was an irrigation team of pegasi, and they were the newest addition to the farm. The last addition had been three hundred years ago, and was some simple pest-control wards. The entirety of the excess currency after paying the small army of laborers went right into Ponyville itself. Apparently, Equestrian law dictated a strict profit margin for all business owners, requiring all funds over a percent profit to go to charities or the local community. Period. Or you lost your business license. The idea behind the law was businesses exist to improve life for everypony, not just their owners. You the owner get to be a little richer, and so dose everypony else. Want an extravagant life? Own multiple businesses. Seemed fair to me. I didn’t object to that as somepony wanting to start a business. I’m not a young dragon. I didn’t need to sleep on a bed made from bits. What seemed crazily compassionate is Sweet Apple Acres only kept three percent of the prophets. What was even absolutely more crazy was upon finding Applejack, who apparently worked her own share of the farm daily, she had insisted I try an apple. That was crazy because it tasted like I bit into a piece of toast covered in apple butter. Imagine flavorless bread, covered in the most perfectly made apple butter you’ve ever had. That was what this apple tastes like. I had to know. “H-how did you-” “Ah shucks, that ain’t nothing new. Just proper care and the right farming methods over five generations.” AJ chuckled. “An’ that’s just our Goldie variety. We got ten other varieties, most traditional, but some other special ones too.” I nodded, quickly finishing off the rest of the apple. “So I reckon Scoots is bringing you by to introduce me to her fancy new doctor.” AJ drawled, taking a moment to give a nearby tree a hard kick to shake the ripe apples off of it. I couldn’t reply, my mouth was full of awesome. “Well, kinda.” Scoots answered. “I did think you would want to meet her eventually, but uh, we need some help from you.” “Oh?” AJ asked, picking up apples as she spoke. “How so? Can’t pay for it yourself?” I guess a farmer doesn't have time to just chat mid-day. Swallowing the apple’s tasty remnants I shook my head firmly no. “Oh no, I’m not charging her.” I said as firmly as I could manage. “I need some good advertising to start my clinic, but also, it’s unethical to keep somepony crippled when you can fix the problem. I plan on doing most medically necessary things for free.” “That’s a might decent of ya,” AJ noted, moving to the next tree after putting all the ripe apples into a bucket. “Most Docs round here will charge ya a leg and a leg for anything insurance don’t cover. I reckon I can’t blame them much for trying to make a good livin, but some folks just can’t afford certain things.” I hummed curiously. “I thought Equestria paid for it’s citizen’s health care.” “It pays for the common things up to a point.” Scootaloo explained. “Cuts, scrapes, a broken bone, common diseases, lifesaving surgery… That sort of thing. But if you need a hip replacement, or something else complicated, or you get so sick or injured that you go over a certain amount in one year, you need to pay for it yourself.” AJ nodded. “Yep. The Crown can’t afford to pay all expenses for everypony, but it can pay for the little things that happen a lot.” I mulled it over then nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Anyways, I’m sure your wife explained some of the procedure I’ll be using to you, right?” AJ shook her head. “Not really. Dash isn’t much of an egghead, er, no offense, I mean that one endearingly.” “None taken.” I replied with a giggle. “I know ya’ll using one of her feathers somehow, but that’s about it.” AJ finished. “Ja, that’s correct.” It was time to explain as best I could without sounding very creepy. “Do you know what DNA is?” AJ gave me a smirk. “Course I do. I work with plants for my livin. I may not use magic on these trees, but I do use the natural sciences and good ol’ elbow grease.” “Und that definitely seems to make some good apples.” I said, unable to help myself. “Uh, so, to put this into plant terms, Scootaloo would be about the worst strain of apple tree imaginable. I don’t mean that as an insult, I mean that as a health issue.” “Ya’ll mean she’s got a disease, or just poor genes?” AJ asked, giving another tree a good hard kick and amazingly not damaging it’s bark. I gave Scootaloo a sympathetic and apologetic look. “Well, possibly both. I don’t know exactly what she might have, I’ll need to study her genome more.” I sighed, “But, I can fix it. See, originally I was going to use some of Rainbow’s genes to replace the ones which made Scoots wings grow in as vestigial limbs.” “Uh, as what now?” Scootaloo and AJ echoed. “Oh, that means ‘non-working versions’.” I said quickly. “See, her genome lacks what it needs to make flight feathers at all, but well-” My eyes lit up as I realized how I could explain it to someone who had to know at least a little botany. “- Ah ha! Das est- Uh, I mean, to use another tree analogy, I can fix her wings by grafting a ‘branch’ of Rainbow’s DNA to her. But unfortunately, that won't fix all of her problems, und I may have made some of them worse when I used a healing technique to remove some metal from her wings earlier. I can’t be sure of that, because I didn’t imagine her genes to be the mess they are, since she appears to be well, perfectly healthy except for the wings. “Now, Scootaloo has some earth pony blood in her, und I used it to make und ‘graft’ new wing muscles to replace the old ones.-” AJ squinted at Scootaloo for a moment then smile. “I thought they looked a bit more developed than usual… But uh, you said you may have made something worse doing that?” I nodded. “Ja, I know… It’s not especially good to act without knowledge, but in generally only one in a thousand cases of simple tissue regeneration lead to problems. I thought it was safe, und I only realized it might not be when I did some work… “Well, the short of it is, since the genes used to make her wing muscles are earth pony genes, and they are bad, I need to ‘graft’ in some healthy ones so we can be sure there are no problems. Und Scootaloo would prefer for you to be the donor.” AJ stopped picking up apples and looked up at Scoots. “Why me?” “Well… Lily said that after five months the new stuff will have replaced all of the old stuff… So then I’d be related to both you and Dash by blood.” Scootaloo explained. “I-I know that’s not natural but-” “Scoots ya silly lil filly!’ AJ objected, “My best friend for the last fifteen years can turn a frog into an orange! Changing somepony’s family relations may be a little creepy to think about, but it ain’t that unnatural seeming to somepony who once was turned into a Breezy. “No, I’m fine with that. Far as I care Scootaloo, you are family. We don’t need magic to make that bond real, or stronger.” Applejack turned her head to face me. “But if we need magic to make sure you won’t get cancer, or that your foals won’t have missin’ legs or such, then you can bet I’ll help with any spell ya’ll can cast… If, you ain’t gonna rush in an just make things worse with your magic.” I held up a hoof defensively, doing my best to look and sound professional under her judging gaze. “Ach! Nein!” I protested. “You are friends mit Princess Twilight, Ja?” AJ nodded. “That’s right. An she’s made half her own problems by rushing in with a magical fix fer a problem. An as you said, you may have done the same already with Scoots here.” I flinched, that hurt just a little. “Ja, true, but that can hardly be blamed on me. You wouldn’t expect applying a bandage to draw more blood, would you? Also, I don’t know if I did make things worse, but I want to be sure they won't be.” I felt the need to explain more than that to Applejack. She was certainly more educated than I had expected, making me feel a bit elitist for judging based on Scoot’s accented ‘unnatural’ statement, but even if she knew about my homeland, nopony who didn’t live there would really understand how seriously we took magical ethics. “My people do not take magic lightly.” I started, mentally brewing up a proper lecture. “We have a certain philosophy of magic, because we nearly went extinct ourselves, four generations ago by misusing magic. “Everything is itself. Everything is part of the world. With Transformation and Illusion magic you can make anything look like a diamond, or a flower, or a fly, or an eye, or a flame. But that is merely making things seem different. Illusion fools the beholder's senses; it makes him see und hear und feel that the thing is changed. But it does not change the thing. "To change, say a rock into a jewel, you must change its true nature. Und to do that, even to so small a scrap of the world, is to change the world. It can be done. It's not even too hard to do. It is the art of many Wizards, who can do it through one of many different Schools. Which is why we have ethics for the arcane. "See, you must not change one thing, one pebble, one grain of sand, until you know what good und evil will follow on that act. The world is in balance, in Harmony. A wizard's power is to use Chaos to change the world, making a new Harmony. It can shake the balance of the world. That power is dangerous, period. But it is also useful beyond measure, so it must follow knowledge, and serve need. Because to light a candle is to cast a shadow." Applejack blinked and shook her head slowly. “Well shoot, ya’ll definitely seem to take it pretty darn seriously.” “Ja, you have no idea how hard it is to pass the Germane ethics test.” I sighed, lungs aching a little from my rant. Scootaloo frowned and put a hoof to her chin. “It can’t be that hard, it’s just ethics.” I gave her a grumpy stare of ‘why did you do that?’. Now I’d have to explain that too! “Das ist how the Germane Ethics Test works.” I explained with an ‘im tired of talking sigh. “The test measures if you are an informed, engaged, and productive citizen of the world. Und it takes place in schools, in bars, in hospitals, in dorm rooms, und in places of worship. You are tested on first dates, in job interviews, while watching hoofball, und while talking with friends. “The test judges your ability to think about things other than other than celebrity marriages, whether you will be easily swayed by empty political rhetoric, and whether you will be able to place your life, und your community, in a broader context. The test lasts your entire life und is be comprised of the millions of decisions that when taken together make your life, yours. Und everything, everything, is a part of it. “Und then, once you die, the test is over, und you are scored. Und it is your family und your children who are seen as better or worse people based on how you performed on the test.” AJ turned, gently plucked a hair from her tail, stepped over and held it out for me to take. As the hair was transferred into my magic grip, AJ shook her head. “Damn girl, that’s mighty harsh. I reckon you’re the right mare to trust with fix’n her up. Ya’ll need anymore, just come on back.” “Danke.” I thanked, now thoroughly tired of talking. Scootaloo shook her head slowly. “You’re homeland sounds like it’s really strict.” “Ja, it is. Und for good reason.” I said, turning to leave and get back to the now increased work I had to do. “Danke, Fräulein. I hope you’re crops are good this year.” AJ laughed as I walked off, “Ha! I knew ya’ll said Fräulein an it wasn’t just a movie thing. Ya’ll come back now, ya hear?” Lily - 25th of Solarus ‘15 EoH - Mid Afternoon In front of me on the table sat two scrolls. Each one written with magically infused ink, ready to be cast at a moment's notice. Each one containing half of the new information to be imparted into Scootaloo’s cells. Together, these scrolls were sixty percent of her cure. The other forty percent was in my head. Spells I would need to cast while the scrolls magic worked to change her. Spells to guide their energy to the right places to ensure the important parts would work right away. It was done. I was finished. Her cure could be applied anytime. I sat back on the stool for a minute and took a deep breath. It had been much harder than I had thought to get to this point. The scrolls were a testament to that, normally they would only be a third as long, and there would only be one of them. Casting the spells and guiding them was going to drain me dry, but it would be worth it. Not just for business and advertising reasons. After a week and a third living with Scootaloo, I could think of nothing more rewarding than her smile when she was made whole. Faust only knew how much her parents were looking forward to this. Let alone Scoots herself. Well, no sense waiting. “Hey, Scoots!” I called down the hallway. “Yeah?” The mare’s voice replied. “Let’s go find your adoptive parents.” I said cheerfully. “Because I’m pretty sure they will want to see your first fli-” I felt a hoof grip me by the neck, pulling me towards the door like a rocket! I barely managed to grab the two scrolls from the table before Scootaloo eagerly shouted. “You’re too Luna-damned slow! Come on!”