//------------------------------// // Chapter 20: Quiet Game // Story: The Pony Who Lived Upstairs // by Ringcaat //------------------------------// I FELT like a giant stepping through a city made of building blocks, even though I wasn’t especially large compared to the inhabitants. Really, we were the same size--I was just taller. It also felt like every move I made was being carefully watched. The ponies in the lobby might have been waiting to go through the portal themselves, but more likely they were waiting for their own acquaintances to come through. Or maybe they were just people-watchers. Well, if so, they were getting an eyeful now. There was another security checkpoint, just as bright as the one we’d already been through, but somehow… goofier? I couldn’t identify any concrete differences, except that the machines there seemed to have exaggerated features, like wheel joints that were too big and a panel of oversized buttons. Well, just big enough for hooves, really, so not oversized, but still. Pink Coil had to go through his collection of tiny items again, emptying his pockets and giving explanations. One of the guards was a man—short red hair and a grizzled complexion—other than that, it was just pony security on this side, too. It looked like ponies were pretty much the ones interested in keeping things safe. No surprise, really. When negotiations had begun in late 2016, folks on Earth had been wary about talking ‘animals’ with magical powers showing up, but a few heavily guarded pony ambassadors had broken the ice, alleviated fears, and sparked a general desire to let more of our new Equestrian friends into our lives. Legislators, glad to get a break from election year drama, had rushed to grant visitation rights and visas and add language to the lawbooks making it clear that ponies were covered by the same laws as everyone else. The people recognized that a new civil rights moment was at hand; the left was eager to increase diversity and the right was eager to prove they weren’t racist. And there was remarkably little racism against ponies, that old guy in the park notwithstanding. This wasn’t like Neolithic tribes meeting across the mountains of Turkey or the deserts of North Africa. It wasn’t like Japan opening its coasts after centuries of isolationism or British pilgrims meeting the peoples of North America. There was culture shock, but it was all the heady, excited kind, with frantic exchanges of information and new companies, even new industries starting up on both sides, and a million books and articles and websites coming out every week about how amazing it all was. Religion and cosmology, even science itself had gotten shaken up so much that it was all still settling, and probably would be for years. Presumably it had felt similar on the other side, though probably not as much—weird new magical things were something Equestrians were kind of used to. But ponies themselves were easy to accept. They were easy to like and hard to hate. The pony haters were mostly in two camps—the ones who couldn’t believe how crazy the universe—or multiverse—had turned out to be, and the ones who despised their cheerful cuteness. People in the first camp, like Jack, didn’t really hate ponies, though: they were just alienated by the whole thing and turned to things like drink, hobbies and reactionary politics in order to cope. The cuteness haters caused some friction, but most of them came around once they started actually hearing the stories of real ponies who were hurt by insults and objectification. Go figure—once cute things are in pain, they aren’t so cute anymore… which meant it was kind of a self-solving problem. The key point, I think, is that we made them. (Or, as Peach would say, we might as well have.) You can’t hate creatures that you yourself made, not without hating that piece of yourself. As a species, we weren’t really able to hate ponies, or to deny their personhood. And of course, even though they were afraid of us at first, the idea of hating us never seemed to enter their zeitgeist. So there was no need for a pony civil rights movement—what we got instead was a bunch of conversations about what the politically correct way to relate to Equestrians was, and just how politically correct we should be expected to be. On the other side of the coin, despite their good will, ponies were very wary from the start about letting humans into their world. You could call it xenophobia, but given our history, it seemed pretty reasonable. It wasn’t just that we had a propensity for warfare—it was that we knew how to take over new places and make them ours. Western culture especially knew how to win over a populace by buying politicians, building Starbucks and McDonalds, making its products indispensable to the locals and developing the land, bit by bit. So once ponies started learning about us, there was this wave of apprehension about letting humans into Equestria. But I knew it wasn’t just about a desire to protect their home and their traditions, or even their industries. It was that there was something fundamentally lopsided about the whole thing. We had imagined ponies and their world, so they obviously represented something that we desired, even if it wasn’t a desire shared by all of us. But they hadn’t imagined us. We were their imaginers, a race that contained them somehow. We were higher than them. The folks who fiddle behind the scenes dreaming things up, and who are lot uglier than they wish they were. It wasn’t hard to imagine why they didn’t feel as automatically at ease with us as we did with them. I had my pockets searched, but thankfully didn’t have to take off any clothes. Once we were past security, we came to another lobby with another booth like the Earthside one, this one with a sign reading “EQUESTRIA INFORMATION”. A cheery-looking yellow mare sat there, a blossom in her hair, her forehooves neatly together. I indicated her with my shoulder, and when Opli Dexia didn’t object, I wandered over. “Hey.” “Hello! Welcome to Equestria! Is there anything you’d like to know about our land?” “Well…” The fact that I wasn’t free to wander put a crimp on anything I’d be interested in knowing. Somehow, I felt like I should have a thousand questions, but none came to me. “Uh, do you have any maps of the area around the train line to the Crystal Empire?” She didn’t have a map that specific, but she had one of the Empire Line and one of the Temperate North, so she gave them both to me, along with a booklet called “Welcome to Equestria!” Then I had another important thought—”Oh! Can I exchange U.S. dollars for bits, or…?” “I’m afraid our system still has high exchange fees, but it is possible! You can visit the bank on your way out.” “We can pay for your basic expenses,” interjected Opli Dexia, “and perhaps buy you a souvenir or two.” “That’s nice of you.” I tried not to contemplate whether I would have done better trying to sue Princess Cadance. It was a horrible thought, even if she had complicated my already complicated love life. “I should probably get some cash anyhow.” “You never know what crazy thing you might want to buy!” added Peach. I had the feeling there were things I’d regret not asking the EQUESTRIA INFORMATION pony, but I couldn’t think what they were. “You must not get a whole lot of people asking you questions, do you?” I asked. “No sir! I’m normally a baggage attendant! But they gave me special training so I can run up here wherever a visitor comes through!” I glanced at Peach and found her biting her lip in amusement. “Do you enjoy your job?” I asked. She grew solemn for a brief moment. “Why sir, I only love, love, love it!” The moment was past. “Mr. Pfeffer, I think we can provide any further information you need,” said Opli Dexia impatiently. “This way, please!” We passed through a long, curving hallway with features and cities from Equestria, just like the one we’d seen on the other side. “Starlight’s Village”—an aerial shot showing the newly paved street that cut the two rows of houses at a diagonal, turning the equals sign into an unequals. “The Las Pegasus Strip”—a ground-level image of a lavishly lit nighttime street, a huge pair of wings outlined in blue lights extending from the tallest building. “Visit Foal Mountain”—an expansive blue range of mountains with gray slopes and peaks over a lush green valley. “Oh look, there’s one for Ponyville!” chimed Peach, pointing out a picturesque image of the growing town not too different from those in the show’s opening sequence. We emerged into a larger area with more translucent yellow walls that curved into the ceiling. We passed by one more security station—in the background I noticed a quartet of classic pony guards with helmets and spears, sitting at a table and playing with wooden dice. We went through a large double door, and— Oh god, that sun! No, my skin wasn’t burning off. And my eyes quickly adjusted, since what I was seeing wasn’t brightness alone. I didn’t understand how sunlight could seem so different from what I was used to, but it was utterly alien, and I cringed, afraid. “Are you okay?” asked Peach. A cloth settled over my head with the shimmering sound of levitation magic. Funny how I was getting used to what that sounded like. I opened my eyes and found that the world was rose-tinted. “Some humans find Celestia’s sun difficult to stomach at first,” said Pink Coil. “You may want to wear this for a while.” So I tied the pink gauze cloth he’d somehow produced like a blindfold over my eyes. The sunlight felt warm. Soothingly, weirdly warm. Kind of like the heat you get under your skin when you realize you’re about to get a sunburn… only it didn’t hurt. And there were ponies everywhere, of course, even though it wasn’t even nine in the morning yet. They were looking at me; I didn’t know how to react. Ponies in the sky looked down as they flew from one building to another. One was punching a cloud forward with its head. There was a cart of turnips? …beets? …with a stocky old stallion pulling it. Broad paved roads and majestic black streetlamps. Buildings tall and short with roofs that tilted before going flat. Towering walls with flags, friezes and awnings round and square, short and long. There wasn’t really any individual element I hadn’t already seen in New York or even Newark, but altogether the effect was amazing. “Welcome to Manehattan, Mr. Pfeffer!” said Opli Dexia, striding proudly. “This is the most populous of all pony cities, the second largest in area, and, excluding the Star Steeple at Nicker’s Knoll, the tallest! It was founded over twenty-three hundred years ago, originally built around Madame Cross’s Haberdashery, which became the core of a new and prosperous city granting access to the Celestial Sea. It was originally called ‘Mane Hat Town’, due to the lack of nearby shade resulting in the need for protective headgear, and was briefly known as New Hamsterdam following the Funfestation of 517 CYP. Manehattan features such attractions as Valentine Square, the Equestria Building, the Museum of Equid History, and of course the picturesque Statue of Harmony.” “That’s pretty neat,” I mumbled. “Yeah it totally is, isn’t it?” said Peach. “You sure you’re okay? Oh hey, we have to wait here anyway for our charioteers to get back. You could go get some bits from the bank.” The structure she was pointing to was shaped like a pig protruding from the side of the dome we’d exited from. …The bank was actually shaped like a pig. I raised the bandanna for a moment, and sure enough, it was still pink. “Do all your banks look like that?” I asked Peach. “Oh, no, just the fancy ones.” I went in, Opli Dexia following promptly along. She apparently didn’t want to leave me alone for a moment. It was a small annex to the terminal, but there were half a dozen ponies in there, and every one of them turned to stare at me, even the clerk wearily counting bits one by one from a huge pile some frowning customer had dumped out on the counter. Not wanting to look like a robber, I pulled down the bandanna and grinned, but it didn’t help. “Don’t worry, everypony,” said my chaperone. “This is a guest from New Jersey, Earth, and he means no harm.” These words did soften the mood, so I went over and discovered that my ninety dollars was good for only thirty-seven bits. I knew that a bit was worth significantly more than a dollar, but this still seemed like a pretty poor deal. Still, I took it, since whatever was about to happen to me here seemed a lot more important than whatever I’d spend that ninety bucks on once I got home. The pegasi were back with our chariot when we got out of the bank, so we packed in again. “Whatdya think of Equestria so far?” asked the pegasus stallion. “It’s bright,” I ventured. He smiled and lifted his wings. “Sure is!” With that, we were in the sky again. From the Manehattan sky, I was able to get a better look at the various buildings, with their ornaments and colors and gargoyles—at least one of which seemed to be moving. There were other chariots and lone pegasi around us, and occasionally our chariot had to dodge around. Once, a wisp of low-hanging cloud dangled down toward us, and it poofed as it hit us as if we were blowing it to bits! It felt like getting caught by the edge of a sprinkler in summer, and it smelled vaguely like cotton candy. Coconut, I thought. That’s when Peach started laughing continuously, and the only way I could think to stop her was to hug her head to my belly, so that’s what I did. We held each other close and waited for the ride to end. Once we touched down at the train station, I pulled off the pink bandanna and found I was pretty much used to the Equestrian sun. I realized that even though it looked weird, it also looked right, and felt right, as though the real sun were just a lousy copy and this was what a sun was always supposed to be. Leaving my skin uncovered seemed like a risk, but a good risk—almost a leap of faith. We said goodbye to our faithful charioteers, who were both in an excellent mood. It was obvious they savored the Equestrian part of their jobs more than the Earthside part. “Time to head back to dispatch,” said the pegasus mare, hitching herself up to the empty chariot. “Was nice meetin’ ya!” “Yeah, have a good one!” echoed her partner as they took to the sky. The train station had a high ceiling, a musty wet smell and old fashioned turnstiles. We stood in line and purchased tickets without incident. Then we emerged into the open and waited on a broad concrete platform. It was forty minutes until our train was due, so we found benches and relaxed. Opli Dexia consulted privately with Pink Coil, who apparently possessed some form of magical long-distance communication, while Peach just lay there, watching the world with loving eyes. “How does it feel to be home?” I asked. “This is only kind of home,” she said. “I’m not used to big cities. But I like this city better than Elizabeth. It feels good and clean. Like it’s more right for me.” “I don’t blame you at all. I like it better here, too.” There was a morning breeze carrying scents that I… could only think of as somehow better rounded than the scents at home. They were well defined, but flowed into each other—trees, water, hay, pretzels, cows, fresh air, faraway places. It was like scents were more than just molecules bouncing randomly through the air—it was like they were invented just so that noses could grab them. A little white filly with braided blond hair walked up, her mother trailing behind. “What’re you?” she asked in the cutest voice. “I’m a human,” I told her. She gaped openly for way too long. “I just came here through the portal,” I explained. She blinked way too obviously. “Is it true that humans eat horse meat?” she asked, more astonished than afraid. Um. I hesitated. “We, uh… well, I don’t. I guess some humans do. It’s… not something you do in my country, but some countries… eat horse meat, I guess.” The filly seemed almost delighted, but her mother stepped angrily up. “How can you do that? I could understand it if you’d never heard of ponies, but your people have ponies in your stories! You imagined ponies on your own, didn’t you, even before you’d met us! How could you eat horse meat at the same time?” The question was confusing and seemed to be based on misconceptions, but I stumbled through an answer. “Honestly, the horses we have are a lot different from ponies. When we imagined… ponies, we put a… a lot of ourselves into them. The better parts of ourselves. Mainly.” “Do you think that excuses eating horse?” persisted the mare. “Um, probably not? Especially not now that we… know each other. But I guess there are… poor people who don’t have any other choice? Or they’re just so used to using horse meat they can’t give it up? I don’t honestly know—like I said, we don’t do it where I come from.” This earned exactly the “Humph!” and upturned nose I might have expected, and the mare turned and walked away. Her daughter switched her attention quickly back and forth several times before following. At least she didn’t seem upset with me. “I think eating meat in itself is pretty weird,” remarked Peach. She’d said similar things when we’d gone out to eat, and we’d had a conversation or two on the subject. “Who came up with that in the first place? It’s like, someone offered someone else a salad, and said, ‘Salad?’ And they were like, ‘No thanks, I have a better idea—let’s try eating ANIMALS! Like that squirrel over there!’ ‘What? But, it’s just, you know, a creature like us, trying to get along. Do you really think it would taste good?’” She rose and puffed her chest. “‘Oh, of course, it’s furry and full of blood--I’m sure it’ll taste DELICIOUS!’” She licked her lips, then sat down. “That was my human impression.” I smirked. “It was a pretty good one. You know, our ancestors, way way back, didn’t eat meat. We started doing it, I don’t know, when we were still a lot like apes. We were probably pretty hungry back then.” “And you just got in the habit and couldn’t give it up, huh?” “I guess. But to be fair, meat is really good. I mean… we need certain nutrients, right? We’re animals. What’s more likely to have those nutrients—plants, or other animals?” Peach tilted her head. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.” That fact made me oddly proud of myself. The train arrived with a wheeze and a whistle, and ponies poured out. A lot of them lingered to stare at me, some murmuring to their companions, but no one bugged me while I was getting on the train. Opli led the way to a semi-private compartment—two rows of seats facing each other, but connected directly to the main corridor with no door for privacy. We put our bags in an overhead bin and settled in. I wanted to laugh at how familiar things were in some ways, but how amazingly different they were in others. Like, for example, there was a dragon on the train. It was adolescent-sized and bright yellow, of all colors—I saw it loping or trotting down the corridor a few times, carrying luggage and wearing one of those Russian-style furry caps. I even caught Peach staring down the corridor at it in wonder. “We’ll be stopping in Hollow Shades for lunch, then skirting past Neighagra Falls,” said Opli Dexia. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a line directly along the Crystal Mountains yet, so we’ll have to go all the way through Canterlot and around west through the Unicorn Range to get to the Empire.” “Hollow Shades—that sounds familiar,” I said. “That’s where Twilight Sparkle is, isn’t it?” asked Peach. Opli Dexia raised her eyebrows. “I suppose you’ve been following the show from Earthside? Yes, she’s been conducting animal behavior research in Hollow Shades. I have it good authority, however, that she’s returning to Ponyville, perhaps as soon as today.” “Good authority?” asked Peach. Opli smiled wanly. “Her brother happens to be married to my employer.” “Oh, right.” Peach suddenly sat up straight. “Wait. She’s going to Ponyville? She travels by train, doesn’t she? She can’t teleport that far, right? And she doesn’t have a private train, does she?” Opli Dexia looked consternated, while the mage beside her looked amused. “Yes, she travels by train, when she isn’t going by chariot, and no, she doesn’t have a private one, or even a private car. She prefers to mingle with the populace.” She looked between Peach’s stupid grin and my dawning expression. “But before you two get your hopes up, keep in mind the chance of her taking this particular train is quite slim.” Peach’s grin just got bigger. “I dreamed of meeting a princess my whole life,” she said. “I just got to meet Cadance last week, and now maybe I get to meet Twilight too?” The crystal pony sighed. Pink Coil made a ‘tut-tut’ sound. “It isn’t good to crush hopes, Dexi. There aren’t any recipes these days that call for crushed hopes.” Opli made a ‘pff’ sound and leaned against the wall. “We should arrive at the Empire by nine or so tonight, assuming no unexpected complications.” “Then we spend the night and see Cadance in the morning?” “Lunch, more likely, given her schedule. Then back on the first train and we’ll have you back through the portal by midnight.” It didn’t sound like much fun. Two days of traveling only to be put out of love, and no doubt we’d both be beat for work the next day. But it was Equestria, land of magical beings. It was two boring, long days I’d remember for a lifetime, and so there was no way they’d actually be boring. Peach and I commandeered the window seats and scooted up to watch things go by. We’d started out on flat ground, but it had given way to different colored hills. One hill was covered with cantaloupe vines, farmers all over it filling wooden carts with freshly harvested melons. Another hill had a big gabled building on it made of painted beams and timbers, with ponies milling around—it looked a lot like a church. Oddly enough, though, I realized that I’d never heard of a church in Equestria. I tapped the window as we passed by. “Is that a church?” Peach tugged the glass window down into its holding slot, exposing us to the wind so she could get a better look. “That’s a stage! I think they’re getting ready for a play.” “You’re sure? Even with that steeple thing on top?” “Yep! That’s a belfry. They use the bell to call ponies to the show when it’s starting! It’s a lot more common out here than it is back home.” I slid away from the open window—Opli Dexia and Pink Coil had noticed the wind, but didn’t raise any objections. “Do you even have churches in Equestria?” I asked Peach. “I’m not totally sure. I don’t think so. What exactly is a church? A place for worshiping God?” I nodded. “That’s right.” “Well then no, ‘cause we don’t have God.” What a weird way of putting it. “Don’t ponies have any beliefs about where they came from?” She nudged me playfully. “Didn’t you guys make us up? Memories and everything?” I had to admit her cavalier attitude about it was more satisfying than the old angsty Peach. “Come on,” I said. “This world has a history. What do you think was at the start of it?” “Depends how far back the start is.” We were watching the hills gradually get subsumed by trees. “A long time ago, ponies didn’t have cutie marks. We didn’t come in all colors, either—just boring colors like brown and black and gray. And there weren’t any unicorns or pegasus ponies either.” “I think I read about that. How did everything change?” She smiled a clever little smile. “Bit by bit!” I tousled her mane. “So where did cutie marks come from?” “There’s legends about that. I don’t think anypony really knows, though. They were around before wings or horns. They were probably even around before our colors were. Before we had industry. Maybe even before we could talk. I think they might’ve been what started it all.” “Then where do you think they came from?” I asked. She was silent for a long time, looking out the window, her mane blowing. “I think a long time ago, someone had something they really wanted to be,” she murmured. “And it showed through. Maybe they found a way to make it show through, or maybe it just happened.” She swatted her own rump twice with her tail. “But it mattered enough to them that their children got it too. And their children, and their children, and pretty soon? It was everyone. Everyone cared.” I wanted to hug Peach Spark and stroke her, but with the royal assistant and the royal mage watching, I didn’t dare. “But how… how do you make a cutie mark appear in the first place? Things don’t just appear because you care about them.” “I guess it was magic,” she speculated. “Magic came first, and magic makes people connect to what they care about.” “It does?” She looked oddly at me. “Of course!” It was like she was asking, what did you think magic was for? “I thought magic was good for making doves come out of hats and balls show up under cups,” I teased. She looked offended for a moment, but then softened. “Magic is what connects what’s in our souls to reality. I think that’s what I’ve decided.” Wow. That was a lot to take in. “So… if there’s enough magic in the air, cutie marks just appear?” “Or something like them, yeah!” “Then why doesn’t every creature in Equestria have a cutie mark?” “Everyone has their own magic. It shows up in different ways. Dragons make sacred treasures that they pour their souls into. That’s what I heard, anyway. And donkeys have natural hairstyles that reflect their personalities.” “But where else does this connection show up?” She was standing on the seat now. “Everywhere! What does it mean to do magic? It means you’ve taken what’s in your heart, or your soul, and made it real!” She flipped up the hem of my shirt in an aura of electric blue. “It’s where what’s inside you meets the real world. Where things really happen the way you think they ought to, instead of the way they really do.” “So… magic is when things don’t happen the way they do?” “You know what I mean!” I wasn’t sure I did, but I could see her point. “I can see why we might want to imagine a world like that,” I said. Peach shut her mouth and sat in thought. Behind her, in a glow of blue, she closed the window. “I feel bad for Earth now,” she said eventually. “You don’t have magic. Unless that’s what God is?” “We don’t usually use the word ‘magic’ for what God does. But God is supernatural.” “Supernatural?” “Above nature. If nature is ‘the way things really work’, God is above that.” Peach swished her tail. “What does God do?” I sighed. “You know, they told me not to talk to ponies about religion.” Peach’s tail swatted the wall in anger. “I don’t count! I was on Earth with you! I took the plunge!” I leaned in and hugged her. “You’re a plunge taker.” “I take all the plunges until there’s none left for other people. But don’t weasel out of it! What does God do?” “I don’t honestly know. I’m not even sure if I believe in God at all. I was raised Catholic, kind of. But it was just my mother doing it, my father didn’t believe. We stopped going to church when my sister and brother and me were teens.” Peach looked confused. “Does that mean it was all a waste of time?” “I don’t think so.” I had to think about why, though. “It stuck with me. It’s a part of who I am. I don’t know… even if none of it is true, it was good to be given a way to understand how the world works and why we are what we are. Imperfect, but capable of wanting to be better. It all fit together so well…” “If it fit together, why don’t you think it’s true?” I shrugged and looked out the window at the massing green forest. “Sometimes, if something fits too well, it’s too easy to be right.” Peach considered that a while. “What is sanctifying grace?” I looked at her, surprised. “Where’d you hear that term?” “You used it! When they were asking you about what a person’s highest aspiration might be. That was one of your answers. So what is it?” I took a deep breath. “It’s what makes you capable of existing forever, in Heaven, with God. It’s the state of not having any mortal sin. You receive it at baptism, when your original sin gets washed away.” “What’s original sin?” Somehow I’d known that question would be next. “It’s the stain on all newly born human beings, left over from the first humans who lived. They ate a forbidden fruit, and were cast out forever from paradise. That’s the story, anyway.” Peach seemed even more interested than before. “Humans used to live in paradise?” “Back when the world was new, yeah. Everyone did.” “So where is it now?” “It’s gone. Some people say they know where the Garden used to be… but one way or another, it got wrecked and it isn’t around anymore.” “So really, religion is about getting back the paradise your species lost a long time ago. Is that fair to say?” I smiled. “Well, you could see Catholicism that way, anyhow. Maybe not every religion.” Peach was getting excited. “I think that’s what makes us different. It might even be the big thing that makes us different. Ponies started out in a drab boring world, and we’ve been making it better and better all the while we’ve been around. But humans… started out in paradise, and it’s been slipping away. And more than anything, you just want to get it back!” I held my breath. Could she be right? “I don’t think we really came from paradise,” I said eventually. “I think we just tell ourselves that in order to explain why things aren’t the way we wish they were.” “But it doesn’t really matter whether you really came from paradise,” said Peach. “What matters is that you think you did.” “Why?” Peach gestured out the window at Equestria passing by. “Because that explains it,” she said. And I realized what the big question Peach was working on really was. The big question that was always on her mind. It wasn’t where magic came from, or how the world began, or even what made humans and ponies different. It was this: Why did humanity dream up Equestria? What was it about them, and about us, that made their world exactly what we thought we needed? What I didn’t tell her was that humanity had imagined a whole lot of other worlds, too. Dark ones, grueling ones—worlds where no one could ever be trusted and nothing ever made a difference. Worlds about our own future, noble and exciting and terrifying. Worlds where heroes labored to save everything from destruction. Worlds where everything had already been destroyed. I didn’t remind her that those worlds existed. They hadn’t gotten in touch with us, after all. They could wait. I spent a lot of the next few hours hanging out with the yellow dragon. If you’d told me I’d be saying that even a month before… well, it would still be pretty weird, since how would you have known? But he and I had one thing in common—we were each the only one of our species on board. And that made us both outsiders. Making his acquaintance was almost absurdly easy—I just walked up, and he spun around with a surprised expression and said “Oh, hi!” and offered to shake hands. I guessed he didn’t get to do a lot of hand shaking in pony lands. He introduced himself as Grigorius the Unrelenting, “but you can call me Grig.” “Are you a human?” he asked with fascination. “Yeah! And you’re a dragon?” “Yeah! What are you doing on this train?” So I told him my story, and he told me about how he was working for a pony silversmith researching new ways to flatten and purify metals, especially nickel, and how they were on their way to Canterlot to meet with a prominent smith there and discuss techniques and marketability, and he was really excited, not so much because of the meeting as because he’d just never gotten to go to Canterlot before, and he wanted to see the mines in the mountain, and the Great Promenade, and of course the royal palace… well, let me just say that if only every new encounter fell into place so easily, the world would be a lot less complicated. We wandered up and down the train a little, talking about love spells and pony romance and nickel-copper alloys and why anvils are shaped the way they are. He introduced me to his boss (a thick-hewn, big-voiced silver stallion in a pair of rubber shorts that seemed more indecent than just going bare), and I invited him back to our compartment for lunch, where he was welcomed easily enough. Peach was obviously almost as excited as I was to meet a dragon for the first time, but at least she’d seen them before. True to form, she asked some of the basic questions about just being a dragon that I’d been too shy for, and I was glad she did because Grig wasn’t offended at all. He said that dragons had a tradition of skilled and creative metalworking, and that their metalworking traditions had a lot to do with trying to reproduce the qualities of their scales, which led to a different approach than that used by typical blacksmiths, but the fact that they were strong and could breathe fire and resist heat helped a lot as well. “How much heat can you stand?” Peach asked. Grig laughed. “Well, pony faucets don’t go hot enough to give me a good shower!” Lunch was served on the train, although passengers were invited to get out and wander Hollow Shades for half an hour if they felt like it. By the time we pulled to a stop, we were immersed in bluish green foliage so thick I couldn’t tell which bits belonged to which tree. Now and then, glowing eyes were visible in the depths of the trees—and it was noon! “Some wildlife they have here, huh?” I remarked. “This forest is said to be haunted,” said Opli Dexia in a more or less matter-of-fact tone. “The animals here act out more than typical animals. It’s believed that they do so because of the presence of their ancestor spirits all around them, inciting them to action.” That actually rang a bell, weird though it was. “Oh yeah, I remember that from the last Life in Equestria. All those hedgehogs that just wouldn’t settle down, and kept getting under everyone’s feet. Er, hooves.” “Precisely.” “It is said,” said Pink Coil, “that a person can’t understand how strong the pull of their departed kin can be until they’ve felt it directly.” “Pull of their departed kin? Is that even really a thing?” asked Peach, echoing my thought. “It is,” said the sage. “I experienced it once, shortly after my father passed away. In my hour of need, I managed to call both him and my departed mother to my presence while I studied a spell. It was their influence that spurred me to cast it on myself, rather than waiting for a normally suitable test subject.” “That seems strange,” said Opli Dexia, queen of understatement. “Why did they do that?” I asked. Pink Coil shrugged. “That’s simply the kind of people they were. Triers, not waiters.” “Wow.” I didn’t even bother to question the validity of the whole concept of lingering spirits. It was huge and weird, but not much more than everything else around me, and I was in no position to argue. The meal was very pony-centric. Open-faced flower sandwiches with watercress and tomato. A little thing of radish sprouts. Bundled hay sticks in various flavors--I tried one and decided I didn’t like it. The sprouts were too spicy, but the sandwiches were pretty decent. I covered mine in some light orange condiment they called Loyalty Sauce. (No one knew why it was called Loyalty Sauce, unless it was that the flavor was addictive.) Grig, on the other hand, liked the sprouts and didn’t mind the hay sticks, so he gave me half his sandwich. He supplemented his meal by crunching down a huge tourmaline right in front of us. I wondered how much a gem that size would sell for on Earth—no wonder the exchange rate was still settling out. Suddenly I got that skin-crawling sense you get when something’s about to happen. There was a lot of talking coming from the nearby cars, and a lot of ponies were moving past us. Peach’s ears went up and she slipped into the corridor. “What’s happening?” I heard her ask somepony. I followed her, and the others followed me. The way through the next passenger car was packed. I had trouble hearing anything useful in all the hubbub., until a name rang clear: “…Princess Twilight…!” Peach spun to me, her face frozen in excitement: mouth open, ears taut, eyes hoping. Opli Dexia pushed past me into the corridor. “Are you kidding me?” “Is it her?” I asked. “Is it Twilight Sparkle?” The royal assistant stared down the train toward a place where, two cars away, a knot of ponies had formed. We witnessed a glimmer of magical magenta in the midst of them. Opli Dexia turned back toward our seats, where Pink Coil was smiling. “Oh, did she choose this train after all?” he asked innocently. “Did you… did you…” Pink Coil stepped down from his seat, his long, coiled tail dragging. “I may have sent word to Cadance which train we were on. And she may have had Shillelagh say something to Twilight—I can hardly be held accountable if she did.” Opli’s gape quickly turned into a glare. She didn’t hold it for long, though—she wanted to get to the crowd before Peach did. It quickly became a race between them. I just stood there, letting ponies brush past me. It was neat feeling their svelte coats against my shirt. Grig came up behind me. “You’re not going to try and meet her?” I shrugged. “I don’t know what I would say to her.” He moved past me, trying not to push but clearly eager. “She wrote a treatise on the hazing behavior of adolescent dragons. I want to tell her about my friends! Maybe she’d want to write a follow-up!” I thought back to that pony episode I’d watched with Peach at Wal-Mart. Again, the weirdness of it having been real hit me. I found myself wondering how things had gone with Peewee the phoenix before Spike had returned him to his parents in the wild. But then, as everyone congregated around Princess Twilight Sparkle in a big hubbub, I turned to wondering whether something was wrong with me. If everyone else apparently had something to ask or tell one of the most important ponies in the world, then why didn’t I? The whistle blew, the train started to move again, and a lot of ponies went back to their seats. I got a clear glimpse of Twilight as she walked away—I remember her tail swishing more than I would have expected. Maybe it had something to do with having her own reality show—being a TV celebrity would probably make anyone swanky. I imagined talking to Barrett or Laurie later and explaining that I’d been on the same train as Twilight Sparkle and hadn’t talked to her. Would that be horrible? It made me seem kind of pitiful, but I honestly didn’t want to bother her. And at least Peach was getting her chance to meet another princess—she was with the crowd on the other side of a closed door. Opli Dexia apparently was too, but Grig came back to sit with me. We finished our lunches and chatted about metals and technology and the progress of science. I felt like I didn’t know nearly enough about how metals are used on Earth to satisfy him, but he was still really glad for the chance to talk to me. Pink Coil sat reading a scroll the whole time, but he put in something about the experimental method or some famous pony inventor now and then. One thing led to another, and eventually, believe it or not, Grig and I started arm wrestling. He beat me every time, but not as easily as I might have guessed. He then suggested pitting his tail against my arm, so why not? I went for it, and we were in the middle of that when Peach and Opli Dexi finally came back. Peach immediately started rooting for me without any context whatsoever, and that may have been how I was able to win. I slammed the dragon’s tailtip to the padded seat in triumph and then let go, bowled over by how ridiculous my life had become. I imagined myself telling the folks at work: I couldn’t be there Monday because I’d been busy tail-wrestling with a yellow dragon. It was hard even imagining that conversation. Peach gave me a hug and started telling me about how she’d been part of a crowd of ponies all asking Twilight Sparkle questions. Twilight had handled things like a press conference, taking questions one by one, with Spike recording the whole thing on his giant handheld camera. Someone had asked Twilight about her time at Celestia’s Academy for Gifted Unicorns, for example, which Peach had loved hearing about. When it was Peach’s turn, she’d asked Twilight how she’d felt when she first learned about Earth’s existence. Twilight had swallowed and thought about it—Peach was proud of that—and said that it had shaken her deeply, but also stirred her curiosity in the extreme. In the first few weeks after the God-Tremor was dissolved, Twilight had come up with a good three dozen ideas for experiments or monographs relating to Earth, and she’d told the crowd that she really wished she could spend more time there, but her duties meant leaving Equestria for long wasn’t a good idea—”You never know when you’ll be needed!” In turn, Peach had told her that she was living on Earth to try to discover the answers about who we really are deep down, and Twilight had told Peach she was a brave pony and that she should keep up the good work. Peach was so proud of that! She threw her front legs around me and squealed. My heart started beating really hard, and I hugged her lightly and tried not to think about being embarrassed in front of the Crystal Empire officials. It was easy, really—I just remembered how much I loved her. I glanced over and saw Grigorius, smiling the most tender smile. He obviously really liked seeing me and Peach as a couple. Opli Dexia, on the other hand, sighed. “I don’t want this to be harder than it has to be,” she said in response to our vulnerable looks. “I don’t want to get unzapped,” said Peach, squeezing me around the belly. “I’m only doing this ‘cause it’s gonna wear off whether I like it or not.” Pink Coil clucked his tongue. Peach looked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He exhaled slowly, his curly pink mane quivering. “You could ask Cadance to renew it. She does that, you know. For couples who believe they’re meant to be together, but whose love has faded. It’s practically the only time she lets herself use her talent anymore.” His tone suggested he thought it was a travesty for anyone to neglect their ‘talent’. “I saw her do that with a couple friends of mine, at the mixer,” I said. Opli was staring daggers at Pink Coil. “How can you even think that might be a good idea? They live on Earth! They couldn’t visit her for regular applications, on top of which there are the complications you mentioned.” Pink Coil sighed and stretched out along two seats. “I know, Dexi. I simply believe in the importance of brainstorming.” She glared, then quietly hmphed. Peach and I quietly took our seats by the window, where she kept telling me about how neat it had been to meet the Princess of Friendship in person. I decided I probably actually liked it better this way. But the coolest part of the trip was probably that afternoon. Peach and I had asked for pillows—the train had plenty--and fallen asleep against each other. I was half-dreaming of something I couldn’t quite remember afterwards, but which I think had to do with some authority finally giving me my cutie mark, when I was awakened by an unassuming and almost frighteningly familiar voice: “Oh… hello! I’d heard there was a dragon on board, and I just couldn’t leave without seeing if it was true.” I sat up and tried to collect my thoughts. I wasn’t still dreaming, was I? Nope. I really was on a train in Equestria. And… was that really Fluttershy standing at the end of our row of seats? My mind refused to give any answer aside from: Yes. Yes it is. “Oh my gosh, Fluttershy!” murmured Peach as she came awake. “I forgot she was traveling with Twilight! But it makes sense she’d be here too!” Grig was sitting politely with his claws almost touching. “I am a dragon!” he replied to Fluttershy, as if it wasn’t obvious. Well, to be fair, I had asked him when we’d first met. “I’m on my way to Canterlot with my boss!” “Oh, yes. I spoke with your… your employer, and he said you were traveling on this car…” The world-famous pegasus looked at me. “Oh, my. I didn’t know there was a human here, too!” She was a lighter yellow than Grig was. Cleaner, too, since he had scales of different sizes, and Fluttershy just had downy hair. “Hi there,” I said, feebly waving my hand. “I’m Ron.” She looked intimidated by me despite my obvious lack of togetherness. “…Wh…what brings you to Equestria, Ron?” “Kind of a long story,” I said. “Princess Cadance made me fall in love with Peach Spark here by mistake, so we’re going to get that fixed.” “…Oh.” Fluttershy scuffed the rug outside the compartment and looked for something to say. “Well, I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you.” “It’s the best thing that ever happened to us!” chirped Peach. “Was it really? Well in that case, I’m glad,” decided Fluttershy, striking a brave stance in favor of best things that ever happened. She looked back to Grig, who was watching humbly. “I’m guessing you know who I am.” Grig looked embarrassed. “I guess you’re a really famous pony? I don’t actually know.” Fluttershy blushed and lowered her head for a moment. “I’m sorry. I guess I got a little bit full of myself. Sometimes, with all the fuss, I forget that not everyone has heard of me. I… I’m…I’m…” Opli Dexia struck the floor with a hoof. “Her name is Fluttershy and she was the bearer of the element of kindness,” she informed Grig. “Aw, we were having fun watching her try to tell him!” complained Peach. Grig’s face lit up. “Oh! I have heard of you! But… but I thought you were afraid of dragons.” Fluttershy took a step back and blushed again. “Well… I am. Or rather… I was. But ever since I overcame my fear and spoke to a very naughty dragon… I’ve been trying to get over it. I’ve come to realize that there’s a big difference between dragons who care about ponies’ feelings, and dragons who don’t.” “You can say that again,” said Opli Dexia. “And for that matter,” added Fluttershy, “there are some ponies who don’t care about other ponies’ feelings, either.” “How could anyone not care about other peoples’ feelings?” asked Grig, sitting forward in concern. “That’s just heartless!” Fluttershy smiled a huge smile at hearing that and moved forward to hug the young dragon. He patted her rump gently, looking happy but concerned. “And then,” grumbled Peach, “there are the people who care about other people’s feelings too much.” I put my hand on her, knowing what she meant, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from the yellow-on-yellow action. I did manage to interact a little with Fluttershy once she was done fighting her dragon phobia. First, though, Pink Coil cleared his throat. “I was very interested in recent events surrounding your duck, Bailey,” he said. “How is he doing these days?” “Well, that’s just it,” said Fluttershy. “He isn’t my duck anymore. He belongs to himself. I’ve been making sure to ask after him, though, and as far as I know, he’s still letting people test him to see what he can do. He understands that he’s… someone important. But I don’t know what he’ll do when they’re done with him. I’m hoping he comes home to live with me again.” “And you’ll be willing to take care of him, even though he’s officially a person now?” Fluttershy took a proud stance. “People take care of each other all the time.” I ventured a question: “Do you think your bunny, Angel, might be smart enough to qualify as a person?” Fluttershy looked indulgently amused as she answered, “Oh, I don’t think he would ever agree to something like that.” “He wouldn’t consent to personhood?” asked Pink Coil. She shook her head. “Being a person means that you have certain responsibilities. I think Angel is happier just being a bunny.” Too bad the rest of us don’t have that choice, I thought. I wasn’t sure what to say next, and apparently no one else was either, since there was an awkward silence. But Peach, in her wonderful way, managed to turn it into a feature. “Oh hey! Fluttershy, are you still the world champ at the quiet game?” The pegasus drew herself up in sudden pride. “I haven’t been beaten yet!” “Do you wanna give it a go? Just the six of us here?” Fluttershy looked back for a moment, but stepped forward into our compartment. “Why not? But I might not be able to play for very long. I think we’re almost to Canterlot.” Just to be clear, I asked for the rules, and sure enough, it really was as simple as ‘just be quiet the longest’. So we all sat down and played. It was funny for a while. Everyone just sitting there, looking at each other. A couple of freaks, one from another kingdom and one from another world… a crystal pony, a royal mage, a world-famous animal tender and… a blogger. It struck me as kind of like a joke, and I almost laughed. Opli Dexia coughed. It wasn’t loud, but Fluttershy turned to glare at her. The rest of us glared too, and apparently that was how we decided she was out. “Oh, for goodness sake,” she muttered, and turned back to her notes. I yawned. I was worried that might put me out, but no one glared at me, so I guessed it was a quiet-friendly noise and didn’t count. But not long after that, I rubbed my hand nervously on the arm of my seat, and that made a muffled sound. Fluttershy glared at me, and so did the others. I grimaced sheepishly and said, “I guess I’m out then.” Fluttershy nodded with satisfaction. Pink Coil shifted his position, but somehow didn’t make a sound. Opli coughed again. Grig’s tail switched up and down, left and right, but it was silent until, unluckily, an attendant came down the corridor with a cart and the dragon happened to catch the bottom of it with his tailtip. -Clang!- He jerked his tail self-consciously into his lap, mortified. “Sorry!” he told the attendant. We glared at him and he was out, too. I looked out the window—the spires of Canterlot were coming into view. I watched them with interest, wondering whether I should ask Fluttershy a question before the chance was lost forever. But I couldn’t bear to interrupt the quiet game. Peach looked out the window too, gently placing her forehooves up against the glass. She was still a moment, then suddenly flipped back and started singing at the top of her lungs. “O, Canterlot!! The heart of our great land! Your marble walls are glorious and grand!” Pink Coil wrinkled his face in amusement and Grig snickered. I pet Peach on the nape. “Oh well, gave it my best!” she shrugged. “Just too much of a patriot, I guess.” It was down to Fluttershy and Pink Coil. We all sat there watching them as the train squealed into the station. They looked at each other, raising their eyebrows and making quizzical faces. Eventually, Fluttershy chuckled the tiniest little chuckle. She opened her mouth in a silent gasp. “Did she lose?” asked Peach. “I did!” said Fluttershy, amazed. “I lost.” Pink Coil said a few words—or at least, it looked like he did, but although his mouth was moving, he didn’t make a sound. Several brows furrowed his way. “Were you cheating?” accused Opli Dexia. He moved his hoof from right to left across his mouth. “Of course I was cheating, Dexi. You didn’t think I could legitimately defeat a world champion, did you?” He smiled to Fluttershy. “Zipper Lip charm. Your title is safe.” She smiled back with adorable relief. “Well then! …I guess I should go back to where Spike and Twilight are. It was nice to meet all of you.” She looked at me in particular. “I…I hope you figure out what’s best for all of you.” “So do we,” said Peach. “Have a nice life!” It was a nice sentiment, and I was tempted to repeat it when I said goodbye to Grig a minute later. Instead, I gave him a gentle hug and wished him the best of luck with his copper-nickel alloys. He thanked me and said he hoped humans in general were as nice as me. Without any better way of keeping in touch, the best I could do was tell him that if he ever found himself with access to the worldwide web, he should look up PeachOnEarth.com. I stood on the platform at Canterlot, watching him walk off with his boss and taking in the smell all around me. I could smell what I was nearly sure were cinnamon buns, with maybe some other herbs mixed in. There was a smell of plaster, too. The sun was exceptionally bright here—I might even have called it proud. Across a grassy rise, I stared at Canterlot Palace in all its glory and imagined Princess Celestia striding within, from one tower to another. My companions joined me. We had about twenty minutes before the train was set to pull out again. “Canterlot is so beautiful,” said Peach. “I can’t believe I never came here before. I really should’ve.” “I guess you just never had any need to, huh?” “Nope.” Peach stood in reflection. “I did, though. I should’ve come here as soon as I was on my own. This is the heart of ponydom, right?” “Debatable!” said Opli Dexia. “Nah, it’s pretty much the heart. And if I’d come here and stayed a while, maybe I would’ve understood my own kind better when the portals opened and I got the chance to go through. How can I understand the people who dreamed up ponies if I don’t understand ponies first?” I laid my hand on her nape while a huge stagecoach rumbled in front of us. That’s when I noticed the voices calling out from the numerous shops around us. “Do you suppose we should get Cadance some kind of gift?” “Not a bad idea,” said Pink Coil. “She’s bringing you here to right a wrong, of course, and as such it’s she who owes you, not the other way around. Still, making a good impression on a princess can hardly hurt.” “But what do you get a princess who runs a country?” I wondered. There were gift shops, specialty shops, food markets, flower markets… “Perhaps a fruit arrangement?” suggested Opli Dexia. “A lot of exotic fruit comes through Canterlot, including many kinds we can’t get in the Empire.” “Oh yeah?” “Indeed.” The crystal mare winked. “And I have it on good authority that Cadance has a nearly unhealthy love for kumquats.” “Really?” asked Peach. “I never had a kumquat.” “They’re sour,” I told her. “Tiny and sour and I don’t know what they’re for.” She started off toward the nearest fruit stand. “I’m gonna have one.” After a moment’s surprise, I strode along with her. “That’s why I love you,” I told her. “Because I’m going to have a kumquat?” she asked, looking back. “Yep.” “Huh.” Her ears swiveled. “How about that. I thought it was ‘cause I was fun and sexy and stuff.” “No, that’s just a bonus,” I told her. “The kumquat thing is the main reason.” She hooted and flipped her tail at me. I think she understood what I meant—upon hearing that I didn’t know what a particular thing was for, she’d immediately decided to find out. That was a big part of why I loved her. We found a basket of fruit arranged like a pony’s face, with kumquats for eyes. But two wasn’t enough, so we asked the vendor how much for just a bag of kumquats. It turned out the vendor was glad to get rid of them, so we got a good deal. Peach and I fed each other one kumquat apiece on our way back to the train. That was more than enough, it turned out. In Equestria, sour really meant sour! The rest of the ride was a lot quieter. With the celebrities gone, the mood was somber, and with Grig gone, I found I didn’t have a lot to say to anyone. Most of the passengers had gotten off at Canterlot, and while a lot more had gotten on, they were keeping largely to themselves. I did have to field questions from a couple of curious ponies, though. One was a red-orange little pegasus stallion who wanted to know why humans always had to wear clothes. Would something terrible happen to us if we didn’t? (I didn’t have a great answer for him, but I tried my best.) And then there was a middle-aged earth mare who peeked in and said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was just curious—do humans all dream of ponies? And if so, are there particular ponies that each human dreams of?” (I felt bad having to disillusion her—she’d been hoping to find her own personal dreamer.) To pass the time, we rented a board game called Skymaster from the train’s ‘library of diversions’. Everyone apparently knew it but me, although I thought I remembered it from an episode about Rainbow Dash being in the hospital. It was a game a lot like Battleship, the kids’ game where you try to guess where the other player has hidden their pieces, except that in this game you got to move one of your pieces before each guess. They told me it originated in Cloudsdale, which was appropriate because the conductor had just announced that we were passing underneath Cloudsdale. Unfortunately, the train didn’t give us a view of anything but overcast skies and moist green meadows. We all played each other, but Peach and I spent the most time with the game. The officials had things to read and work on, but all Peach and I had to do was wait, worry and cuddle. Skymaster gave us a new way to connect. There were strategy points, like figuring out how to stop the other player’s weatherpony from pushing their clouds into places they weren’t legally allowed to start, but a big part of it was figuring out how the other player was thinking when they set up their pieces. The more Peach and I played, the more we were able to guess each other’s layouts, even though we both kept mixing them up. So our games got shorter and shorter. Every time one of us guessed the other’s bumblebee or whatever out of the blue, it was “Oh nooo, poor bumblebee!” Peach made a twirly falling pattern with her hoof, and we laughed and hugged and sat there savoring how well we were getting to know each other. Dinner was a more satisfying affair than lunch had been. We were staring at the steep mountains of the Unicorn Range through our windows; Galloping Gorge was occasionally visible through the forest on the other side of the train. They brought us lasagna with tomato-mushroom sauce, a salad of marinated vegetables, and dried oatgrass. I nibbled the oatgrass a little and then passed it on, but the lasagna was really good. It was only after dinner that we finally broke the ice between ourselves and our chaperones. We’d had trouble thinking of them as people that we could get to know, since it felt like they were adult figures there to end our youthful reverie and nothing more. But as the view gave way from foothills to cold tundra, we started asking them about their day-to-day lives. Opli Dexia wasn’t able to talk freely about everything Princess Cadance was scheduled to do, but she spoke at length about the challenges inherent to budgeting the time of someone who wanted to be everywhere. It fell to Cadence’s right-hoof mare to oversee ‘crises’ like ours, but also to arrange high-profile meetings, handle important correspondence for the princess, and delegate, delegate, delegate everything under the sun to lower staffers. Pink Coil, meanwhile, was happily retired, but he’d served as Royal Mage for two years after the Crystal Empire’s return, and he sketched out some of his duties from that time: fortifying buildings, developing defensive enchantments lest King Sombra or the like should someday return, and studying the nature of the Crystal Heart itself. Opli Dexia told us a funny and exasperating story of an incident in which Cadance was introduced to an enterprising youth sledding team that happened to include a pair of fillies orphaned by Sombra’s War. She’d immediately postponed everything else in her schedule to go and meet their caretakers, and from there she decided to visit the orphanage, and from there she had to visit the Steeple of Law to see about changing adoption regulations, and from there she visited a private home so she could tell the married couple who lived there that they were eligible to adopt the foal they’d wanted, and from there she went back to the orphanage… and every time Cadance struck out in a new direction, Opli Dexia had to scramble to rearrange her appointment book and send word that the ponies waiting for Cadance would have to come back in two hours… no, four hours… no, the following morning. If they were lucky! We sympathized with the royal assistant, but really the story made us feel warm and fuzzy toward Cadance more than anything. Pink Coil told a story too, but it was darker and more serious. He’d been entrusted with a piece of King Sombra’s horn, left behind when the half-ethereal overlord was defeated five years back. His official task was to determine whether there was any threat that Sombra might rise again, but the mage took it upon himself to investigate more than that. He subjected the horn fragment to a comprehensive variety of tests and found that it still contained a significant amount of unformed magic—the same thing you get when several failed spells are muddled in the same vicinity. The most interesting result was that when he brought the fragment next to another disembodied alicorn sample, the two repelled each other like magnets. (”So they do call the substance of a horn alicorn?” I asked. “Yes, and it can be confusing,” he said.) But he ran into some political pressure to stop his research from concerned citizens who were worried that if he dinked around with the horn piece too much, it might trigger some evil curse or something. Unwilling to stop just yet, he created a replica out of resin and gave it to Cadence, who put it publicly in the vault. “She was the only one who knew until I retired… and then it really did go in the vault.” “What were you trying to learn from it?” asked Peach. “Oh, just the nature of evil.” “Just that, huh?” He tightened his brow. “More specifically, for some insight into how particularly accomplished ne’er-do-wells sometimes manage to transcend mortality and escape permanent destruction over and over. It seems that after committing a certain amount of evil, a person often grows beyond their body and starts to exist as a presence—one that defies the normal rules. If we could figure out how exactly this happens…” “It would be the biggest disaster ever to befall ponykind,” said Opli Dexia. He glared at her. “Well, it’s not like I would tell anyone.” “This is pretty heavy,” said Peach. “Does that mean maybe anyone could be immortal if they’re just willing to commit enough evil?” “It may be the quality of the evil that matters, rather than the quantity,” the mage answered seriously. “I was, however, hoping to find a loophole.” “What, like slapping a volunteer twenty thousand times until you go incorporeal? Would that be evil enough?” Opli Dexia hooted. “Loopholes in this kind of thing are never harmless.” “Maybe not,” said Pink Coil, “but it’s good for old ponies to have projects.” That was about as far as the conversation got. There was only icy night outside our windows, and I wasn’t sleepy, so I wandered up and down the train for a while until I got tired of the scared looks and the weird questions. Peach found me and we cuddled in an aisle for a while. For no reason I could name, I found myself crying. But it didn’t last long. I was in good spirits when we finally reached the Crystal Empire. It was just as dazzling from a distance as you might expect, with arches and towers shimmering in green and pink and orange and violet against the black sky. We went back to our compartment and waited until an endlessly long squeal marked the slowing of the train and we finally pulled to a stop at the dark Crystal City train station. The streets there were paved in slates the color of ice. Until I got used to it, I was constantly worried about slipping. We pulled our luggage on foot toward the heart of the city, which you couldn’t miss—everything was built around the palace. I could have found my way to Cadance’s home from anywhere in the city without a guide, even at night. There weren’t a lot of ponies around, but those who were seemed to be full of life and vim. I heard Opli Dexia sighing deeply at one point and looked over to find her sparkling light green. She eyed me for a few seconds. “It’s so good to be back home,” she said simply. The buildings all shone at night like illuminated ice sculptures. It was an amazing walk—I almost forgot to feel cold. But when we finally reached a low side entrance to the palace and went inside, I realized how tired I was. “We’ve prepared sleeping rooms for you,” Opli Dexia said, leading us down to an underground hallway the color of cold—or so it felt, anyway. The blue stone walls were almost reminiscent of a clean dungeon. “Rooms?” asked Peach. “Yes, rooms, plural,” said Opli Dexia. “There’s no point in making your separation difficult. You may as well get used to sleeping alone.” My room had two pony-sized beds pushed together, a vanity, and an empty armoire. That was all. “Please make yourself comfortable,” said Opli Dexia, a diagonal stripe shimmering over her body. “The bathroom is down the hall, in case you need it. I’ll be back to wake you in the morning.” “Thanks,” I said. No guards, then? In theory, I could sneak into the rest of the palace and cause mayhem? Well, I didn’t test that. I just sneaked into Peach’s room once the chaperones were gone. She was lying in bed on top of her blankets, bouncing carefully. When she heard me, she looked up and gasped happily. “Pepper!” “Hey Peach. How’re you doing?” She shivered. “Cold.” I sat with her on the bed and looked at the ceiling, which sloped down at the corners. There was one light on the wall with tiny glowing crystals in it. Shadows were everywhere. “Let’s stay warm tonight, okay?” I suggested. “Okay,” she agreed.