//------------------------------// // Chapter 22: Family // Story: The Pony Who Lived Upstairs // by Ringcaat //------------------------------// KNOCK KNOCK. It was like I’d forgotten to feel nervous. Here I was at Peach’s doorstep—or her parents’ doorstep, anyway—and I was nothing but excited. The fact I wasn’t nervous actually made me a little nervous, as if there was something wrong with me. Rainwater trickled down from the oversized gutter on the comically crooked two-story house before me. There’d been a pattering of rain while we were on the train, making us feel a little less lonely, or maybe a little more. The rain had stopped, but now the dirt roads in Witherton were squelchy. (Peach had even singsonged “Squelch, squelch” as we’d walked.) The town’s architecture had a striking style—’over-the-top ramshackle,’ I’d called it. More than anything, this house reminded me of a big, floppy country hat sitting on a square head. But it just looked decrepit. Nothing was actually falling down, and the rain ran off the roofs instead of leaking inside. So really, it was a matter of style. We hadn’t seen many ponies out so soon after the rain, but I’d gotten some long stares from the ones we did see. It had given me a little practice explaining myself, actually. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t too— But the door was opening, and we were off! It creaked just the right amount, leaving us facing a hefty horned stallion the color of burnt sienna. His jaw dropped so slowly I watched it drop. Peach took the lead. “Dad, you don’t have to be afraid, this is Pepper and he’s my best friend from Earth, I wrote you about him once, and he wanted to visit you! And no this doesn’t mean I’m back, I just came back ‘cause it’s complicated and I’ll be going back to New Jersey soon, but I love you and I wanted to see you!” Peach’s onslaught seemed to have bought us more time. The stallion’s stunned eyes looked from her to me, and then toward someone else inside. A new head peered out at us: chalk blue with curly blue hair, puffy cheeks and a goofy, amazed smile. “Oh, varnish sakes, it’s an Earthling!!” “What?” called another feminine voice from within. “The word is ‘Terran,’” said the orange stallion in an unpolished baritone. “The word is ‘human,’” interjected Peach, “and he’s really nice and he wants to meet you all! Pepper, this is my Aunt Iggles! I didn’t know you were gonna be here, Iggy! And this is my dad, Crupper.” Fortunately, I’d been warned about the name ‘Crupper’ ahead of time, so I didn’t crack up. “Pleased to meet you,” I managed. The puffy cheeks and curly hair turned back inward. “Aggy, there’s an Earthling at your threshold! Now’s the moment when you decide what you’re made of!” “Are you serious?” came the harried voice from inside. “Tip to tail!” bellowed Aunt Iggles. A third face appeared behind the others. Lime green, with short wavy hair gone gray, and visibly fearful. All three were unicorns. “Hi,” I said, remembering to be nervous again. Peach repeated her spiel for her mom, but her parents seemed more involved in exchanging glances with each other than attending to their daughter or me. “I guess you haven’t been reading my blog, huh?” she asked. Her mom looked ashamed. “It’s a big trip to Long Hedge, and I hate reading off those glowing pages.” “You can subscribe! I told you, Mom, you can subscribe to a website and they send you scrolls. I thought you were gonna do that.” She looked confused on top of ashamed. “I couldn’t work out how.” “Well, I’ll help you with it,” said Peach. “But anyway, Pepper just wants to meet everyone. Is that all right?” In an act of apparent bravery, Crupper craned his thick neck to examine me. “So you met our girl and came back with her,” he assessed gruffly. He made it sound like I was a parasite she’d picked up in the course of foolish travels. “Sort of! We were visiting the Crystal Empire, and Princess Cadance suggested I might want to meet her family.” Peach’s mom, Aglet, wrinkled her face back at this news. “The princess? Sent you here? The north princess?” “Is it all right if we tell the story inside,” pressed Peach, “instead of out here with the gutter dripping on us?” The glance between them suggested they weren’t comfortable with that. “It’s fine outside,” said Crupper. “We’ll all go out there and you can tell us everything.” But the porch wasn’t big enough for all five of us—really, they should have built it bigger, given that four-legged ponies take up more floor space than the same number of two-legged humans would—so we walked a little way up the road to where the houses were sparse, keeping carefully to the drier gravel. Peach’s parents watched me carefully. I could see now that Aglet’s cutie mark was a short cord, or shoelace, with sparks at the ends. Crupper’s looked like a loop of leather. “Oooh, afraid to let an Earthling in your house, are you, Aggy? Got to make him prove himself first?” cooed Aunt Iggles, who seemed less offended than entertained. “This surprise came from out of nowhere,” defended Peach’s mother. She had a softly curvaceous build and a timid walk. “Peach Spark, you couldn’t have written about this?” “It was all sudden plans,” said Peach. “Honestly, Ron’s totally gentle. He’s gentler than I am! You don’t need to be afraid of him.” “I thought you said his name was Pepper,” said her father. “That’s his last name. I call him that ‘cause it’s cuter.” “For what it’s worth,” I put in, “I like your daughter very much.” Her mother snorted. “She’s a trouble finder, Peach is. Peach, sweet, you really thought this was a good idea?” Peach’s ears retreated. “Nope, but I did it anyway.” Aglet gave her daughter an unbelieving look. “Exactly.” “Do you want to hear how we met?” I asked. “They probably don’t,” said Aunt Iggles, “but I do! So you can tell me, and they’ll have no choice but to hear.” So we told curious Aunt Iggles, whose cutie mark was a pile of bracelets with a shining aura, about our relationship to date. We explained why we were in Equestria, and while we skipped over a lot, we didn’t hide anything. Although I didn’t like the suspicious way Peach’s parents were treating me, I found admitting to being her ex-boyfriend wasn’t nearly as awkward as I’d feared. It actually felt good. She whooped with gaiety. “So you’ve actually taken little Peach to bed?” The idea seemed so funny to her. “Yeah,” I said, embarrassed. “I’m not little,” said Peach. “You’re just as little as me.” Aunt Iggles wasn’t done. “What if you found yourself in the family way?” she laughed. “That can’t happen!” Peach objected, ears up again. “Humans can’t get ponies pregnant!” “I know, but what if it did happen?” persisted Iggles. “Wouldn’t that be something, all right?” “Iggles!” shouted Crupper. He wasn’t far behind us, and he looked mad. “Aw, think about it. A little half-and-half monstrosity? What do you think it would look like, Crupper? Do you think it would have a tail? Or a horn?” “Iggy, don’t be disgusting.” Aglet was clearly Iggles’ sister—they had similar coloration and the same roundness to their hips. “She’s just being herself,” dismissed Crupper. “It’s our daughter I’m surprised by. Didn’t you promise us up and down you weren’t going to let any pony-hungry Terrans seduce you?” “I’m not pony-hungry,” I pointed out. “I was attracted to her personality.” “How is that not pony-hungry?!” demanded Crupper, addressing me for the first time. “Your own kind don’t have personalities good enough, then?” I was caught off guard. “I just meant…” “He didn’t seduce me,” Peach interrupted. “We got to know each other as friends and he never overstepped or anything. I even started dating another guy, a pony, and Pepper stayed friends with me.” “You met a stallion on Earth?” gasped her mother. “And you gave him up for this Pepper thing?” “Okay, that’s enough,” I said. “Don’t call me a thing.” “Watch your temper,” said her dad. “You’re in a town full of my friends, and a lot of them have magic.” Was this actually a dangerous situation? “I’m a person, like you,” I said as levelly as I could. “That’s all I’m saying. You should treat me with basic respect.” He snorted. His wife gave a little nod. “Well, we’ve met you. And I’m willing to have you inside if it means getting to catch up with my wayward daughter.” They hadn’t really started to know me much at all, but I let it go. “Okay. Should we go back to your place?” But Peach had a better idea. “I’ve only got one day, and I want to see everyone. Can’t we get a thing together? That way I can tell everypony at once what I’ve been doing.” “Don’t you worry, I’ll make it happen,” promised Aunt Iggles. “That’s something I’ve got to see.” Peach snugged her aunt. “Thanks, Auntie.” She raised a hoof toward her parents. “I’m gonna take Pepper to meet Candle, and I think we’’ll go back to my place for bed. But we’ll see you later, either tonight or in the morning.” “You’d better,” said Aglet. Crupper just stood breathing, torn for words. I glad to get away, and it seemed like Peach knew it. She led me about until her folks were out of sight, then met my eyes with a funny, plaintive look. I stared back and smiled a slow grin I didn’t mean to smile. “So that’s what I’m talking about,” said Peach. “Okay, let’s go introduce you to my sister.” Peach’s sister had a thatch and brick cottage near the Witherton park, not too close to any other houses. Not that many buildings here were nestled up against each other, though. If there was one thing clear about Witherton, it was that it had a lot of space. “Candle, may I introduce my until-this-morning boyfriend, Counselor Pepper from Earth? Pepper, this is my one and only sister, Candle Seed.” Her hair was perfectly symmetrical as it drooped on either side of her face. Somehow, even though she had an orange coat and yellow hair, her hair was darker. Her mark was a meek little votive candle floating on a lilypad. Her front hooves immediately leapt to the top edge of the bottom half of her Dutch door. “Peach! You really do have a human coltfriend! Airway said you were blogging about it but I thought from the way she said it you were probably kidding!” Peach reared likewise, the mares’ front hooves clicking against each other. “I totally wasn’t kidding! I was just under a spell! It made me in love with him, but then when the spell ended I realized I still loved him because the spell had forced me to stop fooling myself, but he didn’t quite love me anymore, not like I did, so it’s all this crazy tragedy.’ Peach’s sister looked at me. “But he’s still here with you.” Peach seemed pretty relaxed. “Yeah, we’re still friends. Besides, that was this morning, so I haven’t had time to really get over him yet.” “I’m just amazed to be here,” I said. “Well, come in! Tell me all about it.” Candle Seed’s place was tiny, with barely room for us all in the main room—but with our apartment back home, we were getting used to that sort of thing. She set out stone cups of well water for us on a wicker table, and Peach told her story—a quick summary of her time on Earth, starting from before she’d met me and going all the way to where we were. Her sister asked numerous questions, so curious it was painful. “What’s it like on Earth just… going from one place to another?” “Well, it’s a big city, so it’s like big cities here, on top of being kind of… intimidating, I guess. Like I’m in the wrong place and the city’s just daring me to keep being a pony and see what happens. The humans gawk at me sometimes, and sometimes they can be mean. But sometimes… there’s this feeling in the air, like you can be anything and anyone, and it’s all fine. When that happens, I feel proud to be a unicorn amid all the different-looking humans. It’s more common in New York than Elizabeth, but that feeling really makes me feel special.” Candle Seed hung on every word. “I wish I could go. Just for a little while.” “You should totally! Get a passport!” She hung her head and chewed her lip, unable to answer. “What’s wrong, Candle?” I asked. “I’m not really up to it. I could say it’s too long away from work, or too much hassle and money to get a passport… but really, I’m just too afraid.” Her head and tail sagged. I got up from Candle’s squashy sofa and set the palm of my hand on her mane. She looked up at me with a trembling jaw. I gave her a little stroke and sat down again. She closed her eyes and let her head hang. “Come on, Candle. If you want to be brave, I can help you be brave,” said Peach, nuzzling her sister on the nose. “I don’t know if being brave is for me,” Candle said. She faced me. “But you should really stick with Peach. You might not know it, but my sister is one of the bravest ponies there is.” Peach was embarrassed already, sitting back. “Aw, c’mon!” “She’s the bravest pony in town,” said Candle Seed boldly. “That’s just a fact. When they announced the portals were open, Peach was the only one who talked about going through. The only one. Everyone else gossiped about what was on the other side, but nopony else even wanted to take a peek, let alone live there. And when Peach finally decided she had to go, the gossip started being about her. But she still went. She still went, and she didn’t run back but she stayed, and now you’re the result. Peach, you brought back a treasure!” I smiled proudly. Not at being called a treasure, but because… because I’d been the one to make Peach feel welcome on Earth. I’d been her first real friend on the other side. “I did! I found some great stuff over there, and I’ll show you the clothes later, but the best thing I found is Pepper! And I learned basic electronics and boolean logic and some circuit board etching techniques and architecture before I went over, too!” Candle bucked up. “That sounds like a lot of great stuff to learn!” “It’s okay. I don’t use much of it, except the etching part. Basically my coworkers just give me schematics and I burn them, or make changes they want me to make. But it’s not so bad. I get to talk to them, and I think some of them are starting to respect me a little.” This didn’t really reassure Candle much. “Oh,” she said, her posture melting. “Really, what I’m most proud of these days is my blog. I have thousands of readers! Maybe even ten thousand by now. I feel kind of guilty I’m not updating it now, but I’ll have lots of great stuff once I’m back.” “That place is your home now, isn’t it?” asked Candle Seed sadly. “More than this is?” Peach swallowed. “That’s a good question.” She was silent a while. “Maybe you should write a poem about it,” I suggested. “Maybe I should,” she agreed. Candle Seed turned hopefully to me. “Can I touch your fingers?” she asked. I chuckled, surprised. “Sure.” I held out my hand. I expected her to put her nose in it, but she touched me with her magic, instead. Burning yellow-orange pressure felt its way carefully over my fingers, lingering on the soft part below my thumb. Candle felt her way over my palm and down my arm a bit before letting her telekinetic touch fall away. “Thanks,” she said bashfully. “No problem." “You mentioned Airway giving you updates on my blog?” said Peach. “Yeah! She’s really good about that. She checks it anytime she’s in Long Hedge or Winsome or anyplace with a net hub.” “Is she in town now? I’d love to see her.” “I don’t think she’s on any overnight trips right now! You should check in.” “All right, I will.” Peach finished her water and got up. “And you should check in with our folks, they’re gonna try and get a meet-up together for me. Maybe tonight.” Candle Seed stood up. “I will. It was great to talk for a while, though, just you and me.” She looked my way. “And your treasure, of course.” “Apply for that passport,” said Peach. “I’ll pay you back the money if you do.” She glanced at me for a moment. “I’ll try and get up the courage,” said Candle Seed. We went back to treading the soggy roads. It was nearly dark. “So that’s my sister,” Peach remarked. “It seems like she admires you a lot.” “Yeah. I wish she could be brave.” “I wish I could be brave sometimes.” Peach looked at me for a while. “You can,” she said. “I give you my permission.” I laughed. She just looked at me with steady eyes. “Okay,” I said. “Okay, you’ll be brave now?” “Okay,” I repeated. She started walking again. “So, Pepper, are you still my money manager or not? I didn’t know whether to ask you before I offered to pay Candle’s fee.” “I think you’re a grown-up and you should be in charge of your own money,” I said. “Even though I’m so bad at it?” I set my hand on her withers as we walked. “Maybe if you can teach me to be brave, I can teach you basic finance.” She smiled. “I’d like that.” Clear Airway was a pegasus with a simple house built in an elm tree. A broad rope ladder stretched from the entrance and was anchored to a tree root some distance away, allowing non-winged ponies to walk up at the price of some of their dignity. I was better at climbing than Peach, so I reached the top first. “You can knock!” Peach encouraged me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to surprise her!” “If you knew her, you would! She’s fun when she’s surprised.” I shrugged and knocked. When the door opened, the pegasus before me burst into flight right where she stood and nearly startled me into falling back into the ladder. “HOLY SPUMONI!” I clung to one of the posts abutting the door. The pegasus was white as angelfood cake, with hair like tufts of scraggly grass. “Don’t hurt me! I’m a friend! I’m with Peach Spark!” “You’re with Peach?!” She peered down and saw Peach climbing gamely. With a gasp, she started to laugh. “Of course! You’re Ron! You’re her boy! What are you doing here in Equestria?” And she called down: “Peach! I didn’t know you were coming home!” “It’s a sort of long story,” I said. “Pepper,” yelled Peach as cordially as she could while half out of breath, “this is my childhood friend Clear Airway. We’ve been best friends for pretty much forever even though she likes making me do dumb stuff like climb rope ladders.” “Pleased to meet you,” I said, and Clear Airway shook my hand with her wingtip. “Is she the friend you sang that song about when you were a filly?” I called down. “Oh pineapples, you sang him our song?” exclaimed the pegasus. “You must really be serious.” I looked apologetic. “Actually… we’ve pretty much decided it didn’t work out. But we’re still close…” “Oh, zucchini bread! You’re saying you broke up? After those sweet posts on her blog? After that whole thing about how she’s better for you than Cindy?” It was weird hearing a pony mention my ex-fiance’s name out of the blue. “It was kind of a weird mix-up,” I explained. Clear Airway leapt and flew down to bolster Peach from below, flapping her wings hard so that the unicorn could use her head for a step. “I’m gonna need the whole story,” she said. Peach let herself dangle from the ropes and hugged her friend in mid-air, battered by the gust from her wings. “I’ll tell you the quick version. If you want the full version, you’ve gotta come over! We’re gonna have a party…” Some of Clear Airway’s furniture was made of clouds. I found myself sitting in a rope chair and leaning on a cloud credenza. It was soft on the outside and hard on the inside, and somehow felt wet without leaving moisture on my elbow. Running my hand across it gave me the same sensation. “So it just turned out you weren’t sweet on ponies?” asked our host. “After all that?” “After all that,” I shrugged. “Before the spell, I was getting close to Peach emotionally, but… I still had reservations about getting physical. We hadn’t even kissed. I thought it might be possible… I wanted to experiment, but I wasn’t sure I’d like it.” “You were ponycurious,” said Clear Airway. “Ron!” accused Peach. “You wanted to be my special somepony and you were just ponycurious?” “Well I couldn’t be ponycertain!” I countered. You were the first I’d met!” “I wish you liked the way I look,” said Peach petulantly. “It makes me feel bad about myself that you don’t.” “I do like the way you look,” I reassured her. “It just… isn’t what I think of when I think ‘sexy.’ It’s only now that we’ve actually… been together in bed that I know I can’t be attracted to ponies like that.” “So you had your pony curiosity satisfied, and it didn’t measure up,” summed up Clear Airway. “It did at the time. Not after Cadance cleared her spell out, though.” “In a way, it’s good the spell happened,” Peach mused. “This way, you learned what you had to learn but we got to have fun too.” She was right. “You don’t suppose… Cadance could have planned it like that?” Peach wrinkled her face. “I don’t think so. She seemed pretty genuinely sorry.” “Whatever, whatever,” said Clear Airway. “It’s not for us to try and guess why princesses do what they do. Better to just assume that when they’re involved everything works out for the best.” “Cadance isn’t as trollicious as Celestia,” Peach mused. “But she does have a naughty side…” “PEACH!” Her friend hovered above her, whacking her with air. “Let it go! You’re here now! You’re happy, mostly. Right? Just let it be.” She hung her head. “Ron’s moving away,” she said. “Oh.” Clear Airway landed. She looked sadly at me. “Well, I hope wherever you go, you find what you’re looking for.” What was I looking for? Nothing, really. I just wanted to regroup so I could start looking for something new. But I didn’t say that aloud. “I hope he does too,” said Peach. “But let’s be more happy. Airway, what’s new with you?” “Oh, well, nothing as exciting as your life! Firework parades and riding horses and meeting princesses and learning about who you are! But I did swing over to Long Hedge the other day. They finally started doing those antimatter tests!” Clear Airway was a courier and messenger, but she also loved news and gossip, and the fact that pony scientists were carrying out tests directed by humans in the nearby city of Long Hedge had attracted her attention. It helped the the tests were supposedly dangerous. Antimatter was scary business. All most people knew about it was that it if it touched ordinary matter, it blew up, and the explosion was huge. I admitted that was about all I knew, either. But according to our host, Terran scientists had started to formulate theories that antimatter might behave differently in Equestria than on Earth. For example, it was generally believed that antimatter was affected by gravity just like ordinary matter was—it attracted other matter. But some theoretical physicists were starting to speculate that maybe Equestrian antimatter experienced reverse gravity, and was repelled by other matter. Maybe, some speculated, that was related to pegasus flight, or possibly even the source of magic itself. “Oh yeah! My friend Second Sight was telling me about that,” said Peach. “They’re doing work on that at her lab. She even tried to get me to apply, since they need unicorns with small-scale telekinesis.” “Wow,” said Clear Airway. “It sounds perfect for you.” “Yeah, but it sounds dangerous too! She says I wouldn’t be working directly with antimatter, but then what’s the point?” “Did you ask Second Sight that?” I asked. “She said it’s for things like proof of concept, or to research the scale limits of unicorn magic. Something like that. It makes me queasy but I don’t tell her that.” I fuzzled Peach’s hair. “Aren’t you supposed to be one of the bravest ponies there is?” She looked ashamed. “That’s what my sister thinks, but I’m not brave about everything. Only some things.” I hugged her. Then I looked to Clear Airway. “Were you saying they had other theories about antimatter?” She looked excited. “Have you ever heard of something called an exotic atom?” Peach and I exchanged looks. We hadn’t. Clear Airway lifted her wings. “An exotic atom is a kind of atom that you don’t normally get. Usually that’s because if it happens, it blows up.” She threw her wings apart wildly and made an explosive sound effect. “For example, if you have an electron and its antiparticle, a positron, you get an exotic atom. It falls into itself and blows up. But…” “But what?” asked Peach. “But Terran scientists told our scientists about how they create antiparticles, then let them blow up again. They were telling them about all kinds of experiments, just so they could replicate them in Equestria. Most of them worked. But this one didn’t. So far, nopony has been able to create antimatter in Equestria.” “Wait,” I said. “Then how could it be powering magic?” Clear Airway started to flap and hover just under her own roof. “Correction. Nopony has been able to make antimatter explode in Equestria. But what if that’s because things are different here? On Earth, when antiparticles meet, they destroy each other in a big explosion. But what if… here in Equestria, antiparticles don’t destroy each other?” She stared at us with excitement. “What if… they get along?” “Whoa,” said Peach. “Whoa is right,” said Clear Airway. “I’ve missed you.” Ten minutes later, Peach found getting down from the ladder just as hard as going up. I helped her on the descent, propping up one front ankle. It was night now, but Peach figured it wasn’t too late to make one more stop at her cousins’ wheat and potato farm. Halfway there, though, she stopped short and hunched her back, eyes going wide. She gave me an uncomfortable look, then heaved suddenly forward, spewing a light purple banner that twirled magically in mid-air and seemed to be made of silk. “What? What?” I panicked. Peach recovered her senses and mingled her magic with the banner’s, throwing it open. “It’s from my aunt’s friend Velvetica. She does this.” The banner was printed with Equestrian letters I couldn’t understand. While spoken Equestrian was just about isomorphic to English, it had its own alphabet and spelling that were surprisingly difficult to pick up. “‘Dear Peach and friend,’ she read aloud. ‘Your aunt Iglet is pleased to invite you to a warm reception at her house and estate, to be held tonight at the hour of nine. Please trust that invitations for the whole family will be taken care of. Sincerely, Lady Velvetica.’” “Oh! Well that’s nice!” Peach was delighted. “Yeah! I guess we don’t need to go to Terret and Martingale’s place. What time is it?” “Half past eight.” She flared forward. “Just enough time to show you the fairgrounds! Come on!” I dashed after my companion, who had to wait for me because she was better at navigating the still soggy ground, plus the whole number of legs thing. We passed between slightly ominous steepled two-story buildings and hit another gravel road, and then we cleared a line of houses and arrived at a downward incline I hadn’t expected. Peach dashed down the little hill toward a pond with two tall willow trees growing beside it. I straggled after. “We hold our fairs here,” she explained, sides heaving. “Twice a year, plus we sometimes get the regional one. We get fisherponies from Riverbreadth and Winsome Falls, hucksters from who knows where…” She then pointed to a relatively bare spot past one of the trees. “That’s where I had my first job! Burning pictures into grains of rice.” I walked over and tried to imagine a stall with a sign. “Was it popular?” “Pretty popular, yeah! Ponies liked trying to stump me.” “You have a lot of memories tied up here?” She grinned. “Absolutely! How could I not? The fair’s the biggest thing we usually do around here. I remember how my friends and me used to mess with the frisbee players, making their frisbees shift a little in mid-air, then pretending it wasn’t us.” I grinned. “Isn’t that kind of mean?” She tented her ears. “Well, yeah, but I think they knew it’d happen when they started playing. Besides, sometimes we made them catch the frisbees better!” She pointed to the pond. “Went chubby dipping there a couple summers.” “Chubby dipping?” “Yeah, you know! When you put on clothes and g… huh.” Her ears splayed amusingly. “I bet humans don’t do that, huh? You already always have clothes on!” I laughed. “We have ‘skinny dipping.’ Where we go in naked.” Her eyes were wide. “You’re kidding!” “Nope. Did it a few times myself, in Van Sciver Lake.” “That’s hilarious. You know what?” “What?” “Even if I don’t end up with a human, I still love the human world. No, what I love even better is the way it relates to us. Equestria and Earth have this ridiculous relationship… and I love it.” She rolled onto her back and stuck her legs up. I walked over. “You were after the answer to that relationship when I met you. And you still are, huh?” She nodded, her legs straightened in different directions. “You think maybe it’s about humor?” She considered, then rolled over onto her hooves. “I don’t know. Humor’s definitely part of it, though! Is anything ever really about humor?” “Sure. Comedy acts. Clowns.” “I think even then, humor’s just a vessel. It’s a way we take things.” “Then what are comedy acts really about?” She thought in stillness. “They’re about whatever they’re about, and humor is the juice you squeeze out.” Then she pointed to a pile of little stones and trotted for them. “Oh! There’s where we used to hold our bonfires! Me and the gang.” “You have a gang?” I asked. “When I was in high school. A bunch of them moved away… and I guess I did too.” She showed me a few more landmarks, describing fun activities she’d known there by day or night, when the fair was in session and when it wasn’t. Then I reminded her what time it was and we skedaddled off toward her aunt’s place on the field. It was a moderately sized rancher just as crooked-looking as the rest of the houses in town. There was a sizable lawn cut into the prairie grass with a pretty little garden off to one side. A pair of pegasi happened to arrive at the same time we did and called down a greeting. Peach looked up. “Oh! It’s the cartwrights. Heyo!” They were a forty-something married couple, brown and tan, called Wheel Nave and Waterjack. Peach explained that they were family friends and had taken her sister as an apprentice a long time ago, before she’d decided carts and wagons weren’t for her. (Lamps and lanterns, it turned out, were more her tune, which you’d think someone would have realized from her name and cutie mark, but hey. Ponies.) I waved and said “Pleased to meet you,” and if the cartwrights weren’t outright bigoted, they were at least wary of me. “He’s safe, yeah?” called the mare, Wheel Nave. “No nasty tricks up his sleeve?” “Nope, unless he decides to tickle you,” said Peach. “Human fingers are tickly.” “I wouldn’t do that,” I quickly clarified. “All right,” said Waterjack cautiously, alighting. “We’re not used to humanfolk around here. So long as you treat us right, though, I expect we’ll treat you right.” I promised them that I intended to treat them right, and on that note we all entered the house. I’d been wrong to think there was only one story. The main room had a high ceiling, but there was a railing around the upper wall leading to what must have been some cozy bedrooms, built more for pony height than human. The carpet and all the walls were friendly grays, and there were decorations. A twirling shape dangled from a hook in the middle of the ceiling, a single ring of blue streamers encircled the room, and various baubles sat on white tables scattered everywhere. Ponies were sitting in funny positions on funny furniture or just eschewing it to stand or lie on the carpet. When we entered, all eyes turned to us and there were assorted cheers mixed with apprehension. “Oh look,” cried Iggles from the upper railing, “it’s the prodigal daughter! So glad you two made it!” “Well we couldn’t not come,” said Peach. “Thanks so much for getting this together, Aunt Iggles!” “No problem at all,” said the curly-haired hostess, who was wearing a floofy blue dress that matched the streamers. “Your parents’ place isn’t really big enough, anyway.” I imagined they hadn’t wanted to host anything like this, either, so that was a handy excuse. They were present, though, speaking in low voices and looking uncomfortable. I also recognized Candle Seed and Clear Airway, along with a bunch of unicorns Peach seemed to know. I was pretty sure I knew which one was Velvetica—she was dark purple and sturdily built, with a mane and tail that hung thickly and a cloth banner for a cutie mark. There were a few pegasi, but I didn’t notice any earth ponies. I scanned the room, and nope—not a single one. “Is that a human?” I heard someone asking. “I’m figuring he must be a vegetarian,” said someone else. “They have those. They wouldn’t bring him here if he were a meat-eater.” Before I could decide whether to reply that, in fact, being inclined toward eating meat didn’t mean I was going to compulsively grab any pony I saw and start gnawing, Peach was in front of me with a pair of lean unicorn stallions, chestnut and coffee-colored. “Pepper, I want to introduce you to my favorite cousins, Terret and Martingale. They’re sons of my dad’s brother and they do all sorts of jobs around town!” They stood still, Terret licking the inside of his cheek. “Well, hello there,” said Martingale cautiously, as if he were addressing a wild animal. “Hi, I’m Pepper,” I said, deciding the nickname was safer. “I don’t bite, honest! I’m from New Jersey.” In retrospect, this wasn’t a very good line. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to bite,” said Terret with equal caution. “Oh for goodness sake,” Peach huffed. “Guys, be friendly. You probably have things in common.” They looked me over. “Oh, I’m sure we do. Oodles of things in common,” Martingale said. “I work at a garden store,” I volunteered. “Well, we do work with gardens occasionally,” said Terret slowly. “But we don’t work in a garden store. So that’s one thing we don’t have in common.” I wanted so badly to get out of this conversation. “Well, anyway… Peach, weren’t you planning to tell everyone about your time on Earth?” Ponies were already chiming for Peach’s attention and asking about her experiences. She looked to Aunt Iggles, who smiled and blew a little whistle that won the room’s attention with a comical rising sound. “Folks, my beloved niece Peach Spark has a story to tell,” she announced, coming down the stairs. “But before she begins, I want a sense of who here wants grub. Everypony here already had supper?” There was a general clamor to the effect of, yes, we’ve eaten, but we sure wouldn’t mind a little tea or some hors d’oeuvres. Clear Airway beat her wings over the crowd and swore on crumbling hotcakes that yes, she was hungry. Iggles acquiesced and took her sister into the kitchen to help whip something up. Conversation resumed and I found myself approached by a whole cluster of ponies at once, curious to know about me. “How did you meet Peach?” “Are you dating?” “How did you get let into Equestria? Are they just letting anyone in now?” “Is it proper to say ‘human being,’ or is just ‘human’ more polite?” “Er, well, actually…” I did my best to handle them all. Peach’s parents never talked to me, and a few others kept their distance, but making conversation helped me feel gradually more comfortable. Finally, Iggles and Aglet emerged from the kitchen with trays of singed-crust cheesy mushroom bites and marinated endive rolls and ‘pigs in a blanket’ (the pigs were baby carrots). “Order up!” bellowed Iggles, and the crowd gravitated their way and started munching. I was nervous to ask for any, but lunch on the train had been a while ago, so I worked my way humbly over and managed not to scare too many ponies. As for those offended that I was even there, there wasn’t much I could do except just behave myself. Once I had a little plate of hors d’oeuvres, I had an excuse for not answering everyone’s questions at once. And the fact that I was eating something other than meat seemed to put a few of them at ease. It seemed like Peach’s aunt wanted her house to have a definite eccentric feel, which was why she kept furniture not quite built for pony bodies. It turned out one of the recumbent chairs fit me pretty well, though, so I relaxed back into it and ate, knowing I looked silly and not caring. “Everyone, everyone!” said Iggles, magically tinking a fork against a platter. “I invited Peach Spark here so we could all hear about her adventures on the far side of the portal. It turns out she’s been getting naughty with the natives!” She leered and winked toward me; I tried to avoid attention. “So, what say we hear her story? Peach? The floor’s all yours!” Peach was obviously nervous at first. She started slowly, talking about her crash course in Long Hedge to prepare her for the job she’d been offered at ThuneTec. She talked about all the stumbles she’d had after arriving on Earth—not knowing how to cash her first paycheck, paying too much for taxi rides, having trouble with doorknobs. (Apparently Equestria did have doorknobs, but they were made for easy gripping and low resistance, and Terran ones had stymied her at first.) She described how scary and lonely it was learning to navigate her huge office building. But then, as things started to look up, she started to get more confident in her storytelling. “Then one day, I was reading one of my company manuals and feeling lonely… and there was a knock on the door.” Out of nowhere, I teared up. Amazingly, Peach did too. “I answered it. There was a man there. But he wasn’t angry at me and he didn’t want to sell me anything.” She looked at me, and half the room’s eyes did too. “He was carrying a cake.” I looked at Peach’s parents then, without planning to. I saw her mother’s face soften right in front of my eyes. I could see it in her father’s stance, too. Right then—that was when Peach won the room over, and it was also when they started to warm up to me. They knew I was the man she was talking about. “The cake had pineapples in it,” continued Peach. A good hour later, she finally finished. She was worn out by then, but eagerly wanted to answer everyone’s questions. What’s a blog? What is the Jersey shore? What’s a circuit board? What is Princess Cadance like in person? Did you really meet Princess Twilight and Fluttershy too? It was exhausting. I spoke a few times, just to clarify some point Peach had forgotten or because someone asked me for my perspective. And by the time her story was done, I wasn’t a scary alien anymore. I was a friendly alien. “Are you telling us,” asked Velvetica, “that you went with our beloved Peach all the way to the Crystal Empire, only to break her heart?” I couldn’t tell if she was being facetious or serious. “I don’t think her heart’s broken,” I answered. “And I don’t think she would have wanted me to be dishonest and say I could still be her boyfriend if I didn’t feel that way.” “I wouldn’t,” put in Peach. Off to the side, her father nodded. “Better this way, anyhow.” “Are you really going back, Peach?” asked one of the cousins. “You won’t stay with us?” “I’ve got a job there,” Peach answered. “Two jobs, really. ThuneTec is counting on me and so are my readers.” “You had folks here who counted on you,” remarked Waterjack. “It’s hard doing the fine engraving and shaping without you.” “What I’m doing now is more important,” said Peach. There was a preponderance of reluctant acceptance and nodding. These ponies understood about destinies. “I should get home,” said Clear Airway, perched on the upper rail. “Got to get up early. But I’ll try and see you off, Peach. Pepper.” “I’m so glad you were here,” said Peach, straining her neck upward. A number of the guests had one last nibble and gave their farewells, to hostess and honoree alike. A few were polite enough to wish me luck. It was quieter then. Peach lingered with the cartwrights to get the local news she’d missed. I chatted quietly with a young unicorn stallion who wasn’t related to Peach, but had come to find out what the fuss was about. He told me he might think about visiting Earth someday. I tried to give him some useful tips in case he did. Then he had to leave, and I was left alone. “Shouldn’t we have a poem, Iggles?” proposed Crupper when there was too much silence. “I always like the poems you have at your fêtes,” said Candle Seed mildly. “Right, right! Quite right!” said Iggles. She swooped a foreleg around and clapped the floor, startling Velvetica. “To the library, one and all!” We all filed through the rear door into the room under the upstairs bedrooms. It was cozy, with one wall full of books and a fireplace in another. There were chairs and cushions in here; Peach led me to the sole loveseat before anyone else could claim it. There were eleven of us in that little library, and I felt a wave of weirdness now that I was in such close quarters with so many people who’d never met anyone of my species before. Somehow it hadn’t felt as immediate in the larger room. Iggles turned about to take stock once everyone was settled. “Peach, dearest? As the guest of honor, would you like to read?” Peach stood up, but then looked back at me. “Actually, I think Pepper is the real guest of honor. He’s never been here before. Do you want to pick a poem?” “Oh, come on,” said Peach’s mother. Peach gave her a cheeky look. “If you want to see my poetry, just ask Airway to help you subscribe to my blog.” This silenced Aglet, and no one else objected. I got up with a nervous smile. “I don’t know any Equestrian poems. Should I just pick a book at random?” “Look, if he doesn’t know any, I can pick one,” said Martingale.’’ “Shush,” said Iggles. “Pepper, the poetry section is right over here.” She paced to a shelf and switched her tail against it. I scanned the bindings. Thoughts by Zinnia… A Selection of Pre-Celestial Verse… To Hope Against Hope… Life Meets the Marchioness… “Oh!” I smiled in grave amusement. “Looks like there is one I know.” I pulled out a slim gray volume called Even Even More Poems About Rocks. Peach’s sister giggled. “Is that the Maud Pie?” asked Wheel Nave. “Excellent choice,” said Iggles. “One of those should settle us down.” I walked to the empty fireplace and turned, a little self-conscious, toward my audience. “All right, here’s one called ‘Being Friends with Boulders.’” “Seems fitting,” said Terret. “Shush,” said Iggles. I read aloud, taking it slow and putting in plenty of pauses: There's nothing colder than a boulder The way they talk is like chalk. The way they relate Is like slate. The first time we played sports felt like quartz. The first time that we kissed felt like schist. Sometimes you need a friend who's consistent end to end (Unless, of course, this particular boulder happens to be vesicular.) A smattering of hoofbeats greeted the poem’s end. “Do you know,” said Wheel Nave to Waterjack, “I think she was going for irony.” “Maud Pie doesn’t do irony,” he murmured back. “Really? I think her stuff is solid irony,” countered Candle Seed. “Well done!” said Peach, coming up to join me. “I like that one.” “Well, and after all,” said Aglet, “if people can make friends with boulders, I suppose they can make friends with anyone.” Peach gave her a funny look. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to read one, Peach?” asked Iggles. “We’re all geared up for another, I think!” Peach grunted smugly. “All right, fine.” She scanned the shelves briefly before plucking out a tome and hovering it in her electric blue aura. “I always loved this poem. It’s a classic. I could never write like this. ‘The First Meadow,’ by Pinfeather.” “Oh, I love hearing you read that one!” exclaimed her mother. I went back to the love seat and settled in. Around me, the other listeners made themselves comfortable. Peach took a breath and began to read: The First Meadow Before the birth of birth or growth of This-Is-What and This-Is-Why, the whole world in one meadow stood though nowhere had it walls nor ends but only vistas on all sides unoccupied by breath or hoof but soon to be, as time began. At one end rushed a waterfall. No ducks or loons or lotus bloom adorned its course of ceaseless blue; it only spoke of motion wet; of Things-That-Pass and Things-That-Fall And at its brink, a spray rose up as if the ghost of waters gone. Before it spread a land of green The primal color, lush and full In places short, in others tall its grasses, known by modern names as crested dogstail, timothy, sweet vernal grass and cocksfoot, but known then without a name at all. To one side dropped a mighty cliff so suddenly that tiny rocks would plummet at a hoof's mere touch. The only things that chose to grow upon the cliff were small white stones, And far below a sense of land But nothing one could comprehend. The other way, a forest dark, its only purpose to impose. And maybe to suggest a place whence other things in time might come To mitigate a sense of small in favor of a sense of Home— of Place-That-Is and Place-That-Ought. And opposite the waterfall There lay a heap of tumbled logs Of ancient roots and flagstone rock ascending slowly past the sky So as to grant a place to go for those who wanted something more: A place to watch the meadow from. Despite these things on every side There was a sense of endless space as if the meadow had no bounds except for what a meadow is; That any room required to roam or romp, or speak, or secrets keep was there without the need to ask. There was no sun yet in the sky, but even then came day and night: The days both long and strangely quick, the nights cool, brief and absolute, no moon or stars to shine a whit. With every morning came a coat of dew upon the weighted grass. This was the first primeval time, before which time did not exist. The very first of moments came when one small creature realized That it was there; it sat alive. It came to know the ins and outs of What-Is-Me and What-Is-Not. A texture spread throughout this place so that no sense of flat prevailed but secrets hid in ev'ry step And there was room for tiny things— For worms and bugs and butterflies And then, in other rolling folds for frogs, and snakes, and jackalopes. The largest of all animals walked evenly across the ground Through gully, crag or endless flat— So long as it was green with grass She took it gently with her hooves. Her coat shone always without stain a flawless, gleaming pearly white. Her haunches gave her strength of leg; Her nape was straight, her neck held high Her face possessed of great control, she saw all things both great and small. There was no need for sun or moon with her to walk the meadow's length, a landmark for each living thing. She had a horn upon her head Although she couldn't tell you why. And every creature, seeing it knew that the world was her domain. For power lurked within that horn And power never sleeps for long: From power, something must result. The creatures learned each others' ways and soon enough, they learned to speak And over time, they crafted bonds more complicated than the grass, more enigmatic than a tree, more delicate than spider's silk, and deeper than the thickest stone. There was a steady, growing sense that someday something had to change; Their home was not the whole of life but just a cradle out from which they someday would be bound to crawl. And wild flowers sprouted up and filled the meadow with their joy. This season was the world's first spring Against which other springs are laid and marveled at, and measured up (for all of us remember it) until in some way they fall short and by these defects are they known. It lasted full one million days. And as these million days played out while flowers grew and colors bloomed to mark the dawning of the world, Ten million stories came to pass A few of which we know today, but most of which have passed away into the place where stories live. In time, new creatures came to be: The sly raccoon, the rooting hog And other forms that stories bear. At last, there came the smallest horse: An Eohippus, bright and strong Who still had toes on all four feet and pranced along the grassy ground. This creature watched the Unicorn and courted her for days on end. He brought her branches from the wood that they might sit and share their leaves; he praised her with a braying song and danced about her endlessly and laid with her when nighttime fell. In all the stretched out days before the Unicorn had mingled much with ev'ry creature that there was, and yet, this was the first of all that struck her as alike to her: As Beast-with-Hooves, not Beast-Unshod, And so she opened up her heart. At last, like treacle dripping slow, the power of her horn began to loose itself, and then to spread Until the meadow felt itself awakening, for full and good And yellow sunshine beat upon the land, which now no limits knew. The rats and beavers clambered up the logs, and found what lay beyond; The songbirds swooped beyond the cliff and darted down to fill the land; The bears and snakes explored the trees and made the forest's deeps their own; And frogs flew down the waterfall. The Unicorn was left behind with Eohippus at her side, and through this union flowed her force, both leadership and love of life to all the world, and summer came and power burbled everywhere: The grandeur of a million days. And then the Unicorn gave life itself, not merely love of it: A child, born from early horse and perfect ruler, intermixed. And as more horses came to be, more children came into the world Until the equine race was born. The world is filled with unicorns and even some with Horn and Wing; but none can match the perfect grace of that first walker of the sod, who lived in times so young and fresh that defects were unknown to her just as they were to everyone. The Unicorn still walks today, despite the fact she shares her age with Everything; because you see, she is a perfect entity, and perfect things can never die. Where she walks, it is always spring, which means she must be far away. But if she were to die someday, then that would grant perfection's edge to What-Is-Not above What-Is, and so Perfection would be Void and this would spell the world’s end. The reason she walks far abroad is so that this can never be. So let her ever stride the land Amid the cinerarias and termite mounds, and apple trees, their caterpillars dropping down on fertile soil filled with gems and verdant grass, while laden clouds and slender rainbows cut the air. I realized that I was gripping the loveseat’s arm. Hooves clomped the floor and I added my own applause. Peach returned and sat next to me contentedly. “When was Pinfeather writing?” asked Waterjack. “Eight hundred years ago?” “Closer to nine hundred,” said Aglet. “That one was from her time in the Unicorn Range.” “Wow,” I said, and when the company faced me, I went on. “It’s just, if I read a poem written nine hundred years ago in English, I wouldn’t be able to understand it. The language changed that much. But it seems like Equestrian hasn’t changed at all.” “We have traditions,” said Aglet proudly, “and we have standards. Having rulers who live thousands of years probably helps.” “That’s an interesting point!” I replied. She and Crupper thanked Iggles for her hospitality, gave Peach a tight hug apiece, and excused themselves. The cousins and cartwrights did likewise, leaving just me and Peach, Peach’s sister, Iggles and Velvetica. I wondered whether we were overstaying our welcome, but Iggles settled down on the rug in the middle of the library and sighed happily. “I love throwing parties like this. It’s the main reason I wanted a house this size,” she said. “It was great,” said Peach. “I think Mom and Dad don’t hate Pepper now.” “Well, isn’t that a heartwarming sentiment. And all that work to waste, since you won’t even be marrying him.” I felt my heart speed up. “It’s not wasted,” I said. “I’m hoping to know Peach for a long time.” Iggles smiled brightly. “I’m glad! In that case, I’m delighted you came, Mr. Earthling. I hope you’re comfortable here? I’d put a fire on, but it’s the middle of summer.” “Oh, I’m very comfortable, thank you.” Velvetica leaned in. “Iggy likes it when people like her,” she explained. “She’s already played host for a Canterlot aristocrat and a griffon dignitary. Now she gets to add a human being to her collection!” I wasn’t quite as comfortable anymore, but I smiled brightly. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re really good at smoothing things over.” Iggles craned her head up oddly, but then beamed. “Well, excellent! I should hope so. I like to tell people that as I’ve gotten older, my mind’s gotten only more open. You think that’s fair, Candle?” “I think it’s more than fair. I hope I get more like you as I grow up.” “Really?” The aunt’s ears quivered, taut. “Oh, pish-tosh. You’ll grow up to be your own self, just like everyone does. But I appreciate the sentiment.” “You’re totally open-minded and I think I learned it from you,” said Peach. Iggles peered curiously at Peach. “You probably did. Isn’t that funny?” She turned to examine me, more carefully than before. “So this is what it looks like to have something realer than real.” “Realer than real?” asked Velvetica. “Well, isn’t he? We’re real, and when we make things up, they’re fictions, not real compared to us. And if some silly foal draws a comic about someone telling a story, then the things in that story are even less real. Am I right?” Peach sat at attention. “I think you’re right!” “Well, then, it only follows if someone makes us up, then they’re realer than we are. Realer than real.” “But we’re not like things inside Pepper’s imagination! We’re just as real as he is. He can touch us and everything!” “Right.” Iggles was thoughtful. “But in the way he’s put together, he’s more real, isn’t he? What do you say, Pepper? Are you more realistically made than us?” Well, that was a tough question. “I don’t know. I guess if someone discovered a new creature on Earth, they’d never guess it’d be anything like you. Ponies break most of the molds.” “And a lot of the rules, I’ll bet.” “Well, yeah. The way you move… it’s almost like the way we wish we could move. It seems like you have better control of your bodies than we do.” Iggles squinted. “Really? I haven’t seen you fall down yet.” “Well… I’m not saying humans are clumsy, and I guess ponies are sometimes clumsy too… but the way you brought out that tray of hors d’oeuvres earlier. You just threw it on the table and all the hors d’oeuvres bounced against the edge and lined up neatly. It’d take lots of training for a human to do that.” She looked amazed. “Honestly, I’ve got to say I wasn’t even thinking about it.” “Exactly,” I said. “Ponies just do things cool without even trying. Sometimes you trip over your own hooves, but even that’s entertaining.” I looked at Peach and found her frowning, and wondered if I’d said too much. Iggles sat down on the rug and thought a while. Eventually she raised her head. “Tell me this, if you would. In your opinion, is there a fundamental difference between ponies and humans?” “Oh, I like that,” said Velvetica. I had to ponder it. “I’m not sure there is. I can see a lot of differences, but nothing really fundamental. It’s all on a scale. I mean, I could say that it seems like ponies were made for a purpose. But it seems that way about humans too, at least at first. All our body parts that work together, our cultures that keep themselves going, our minds that let us make choices about our own lives…” “What about destiny?” asked Peach. “Didn’t we decide it seemed like you don’t have destinies, and we do?” “I think even that might be on a scale,” I said. “I think humans might have destinies of our own, or maybe our whole species has one big destiny. It’s just that with ponies, you can see it clearer.” Everyone was silent. “Wow,” said Candle Seed eventually. “Destiny on a sliding scale,” said Iggles. “I like that. I’ve gotta mull that over. Food for thought.” She stood up. “It was great to see you again,” said Peach. “I should probably take Pepper home now. It’s been a long day.” It had been one of the biggest days of my life, in fact. I was plenty ready for bed, so I shook hooves with everyone and muttered my thanks. Peach led me out the door, but we paused to look back. “Don’t be a stranger!” called Aunt Iggles. Peach thrust her head out. “If they start letting humans into Equestria for real, I’ll make sure Pepper visits all the time!” “That-a-girl,” said Iggles. Peach led me through the dark streets with a lot more energy than I had left. I had trouble keeping track of our direction or noticing where the ground beneath me switched from soil to gravel or from gravel to grass. Before I’d thought to wonder how much farther it would be, we reached a simple, rectangular one-story dwelling with a broken wagon in front. Peach rummaged around magically under the wagon and found a big brass key. She unlocked the door and I stumbled inside. “Welcome to my house, Pepper!” We didn’t bother turning on the lights. The gibbous moon shining through a window was enough for me to get a feel for the place. It was small, but there was a lot of bare floor. Peach didn’t own much furniture that wasn’t for storage, much like in her apartment before I’d moved in. I thought of asking whether she’d thought of renting it out while she was away, but then realized that in a town like this, space was abundant, and she wouldn’t get much. “I don’t have any food. Sorry. I hope you’re still full from the party.” “I’m fine. I kind of want to just go to sleep.” “Okay. Tell you what. I’m gonna brush my teeth and figure out some stuff I want to take back with me. You can look around, and if you find my bed before I’m ready to sleep, you can sleep in it.” It was a fair deal, and it motivated me to fumble around and discover what Peach’s life had been like without the starkness of light. I found a little bookcase without too many books—somehow they seemed well loved. I found an empty ant farm that I resolved to ask Peach about. I found a little beginner’s electronics kit on a relatively high shelf full of tilting papers. Then I found Peach’s bedroom and, hesitantly, looked in her closet. It was a total mess. But the clothes in there all seemed adorable, because I knew they all represented some way Peach liked to see herself. A pair (or was it a set?) of work overalls. A flouncy white skirt with peaches on it. A hard hat with a face shield (and a hole for a horn). A big cashmere long-sleeved shirt. A set of shiny brown boots. An electric blue blazer. Peach entered the room. I walked over and set my hand gently on the bed. “Aww, you found it! Okay, you get to sleep in the bed. I’ll go slide the floor cushions into a bed for me.” “Are you sure you don’t want the bed? Don’t you want to sleep in a familiar place after so long away?” “Well yeah, but you’re my guest. Besides, if I lie down in my bed, I might not want to get up again.” I was tempted to offer to let us sleep together, but right now, it didn’t seem like a good idea. “How do you think it went? This afternoon, and tonight?” “It went great. Well, good. A lot of the folks like you, and I think just being around you made the rest less afraid, even if they are still kinda standoffish.” “Is it really just fear? Or could it be something more?” “I think it’s that’s they’re uncomfortable being around things from a ‘higher’ reality. It’s partly fear and part just weirdness.” “Earth is higher than Equestria?” “In the sense of, like, understanding how things fit together, I think so. Think of it this way—we could be doing experiments about magic on Earth, but instead we have our scientists doing what humans tell us to do in Long Hedge, testing antimatter.” “I think I’ve read about magic experiments being done.” “Yeah, but I think it’s human scientists in charge there, too. You guys are just better thinkers than we are.” She sat down glumly. “Probably ‘cause you made us simple.” “But you’re not simple,” I argued. “I saw that over and over today. The way your family and friends reacted to me… it was complicated and there were layers.” “Well, I sure feel simple sometimes,” she persisted. “You weren’t simple while reading that poem. You did a great job. And it was great seeing where you used to do all those things on the fairground. You aren’t simple, Peach! And neither are other ponies. You’re just not so advanced at science, is all. Because you have magic and you don’t have to be.” “Maybe.” She lay down on the floor. “I thought you were going to sleep in the other room.” “I’m busy moping!” “You’re being anti-existential again.” She got up abruptly. “Well, it’s the fact you made us for kids. We’re childish! It’s not just science. You’re better at solving problems than we are. That’s why I put you in charge of my money.” “Are you kidding? Ponies are solving problems all the time. That’s like, what every episode of the show used to be.” “Because it was a show. And in shows you solve problems. But sometimes the problems should’ve been solved a lot faster!” “So you think that’s why not everyone around here likes humans? They resent stuff like that?” “No.” She shook her head. “I think we’re just… not sure what it says about us, when people like you show up.” I set my hand on her mane. “We’re all on the same scale,” I reminded her. “Even so,” she said. I fuzzled her and went to lie down. “I noticed there weren’t any earth ponies at your aunt’s place.” “No, we don’t hang out with earth ponies.” “I hardly even saw any in town at all. I think I saw a couple pulling a vegetable cart through the mud, and there was one guy whose coat was all dirty, but he was in a hurry.” “We have them here. But they just do the tough work and keep to themselves, usually.” “Are you okay with them doing all the tough work?” Peach shrugged helplessly. “It’s not like I could change it. That’s just how it works out.” “Not even the cartwrights were earth ponies. I would’ve thought that would be a good job for them. Is even building carts too good a job for an earth pony in Witherton?” “I guess. They plow and harvest and clean stuff up. It’s what they’re good at. I’m not saying it’s not different in other places, but that’s how it is here.” I shifted some pillows beneath my head. “I guess that’s why you didn’t want to tell your folks about George.” She was silent a while. “Your aunt’s pretty neat, though.” Peach smiled. “Yeah. She’d probably find George really interesting. You know, while the spell was on me, I could barely think about him. Now I’ve been thinking about him a lot.” I swallowed. “Are you thinking of getting back together with him?” “Not exactly.” She paused. “I’m wondering how it would have gone if I’d brought him here instead of you. Playing it out in my head.” “I like how you do that kind of thing.” “Mm.” I took off my clothes and slipped into the old blankets. It was pretty comfy for a place that hadn’t been slept in for months. Peach wasn’t ready for bed, though. “I feel kind of ashamed.” “Why?” “’Cause of what we’re like here. We’re not really quick to accept something that’s strange and different.” “It is kind of ironic, really,” I said to the ceiling. “We humans invited ponies into our lives really quickly, and you’re taking a long time to welcome us into yours. But you’re the ones who’re all about friendship and kindness. And we’re the ones always getting into wars.” She thought for a while. “I guess there’s a certain kind of person who likes taking risks. Not like gambling risks, where you know everything that can happen. But real risks. Adventures into the… the unknown.” Her voice caught. “People like you?” I looked over. She was staring into the distance. “Yeah. My sister’s afraid to even leave Witherton, but in so many ways we’re alike. I don’t feel super brave. But somehow I’m willing to take all kinds of risks she isn’t.” “And you don’t know why?” “No. Not really.” She thought for a while. “I guess maybe it’s the way my imagination works,” she said at last. “Most people hear about something unknown and they imagine all kinds of terrible things that can happen, and only a few good things. I hear about it and I imagine mostly great things, with only a few terrible things mixed in.” “I like that about you,” I said. “Yeah. Me too,” she said after a while. “Your sister seems nice,” I remarked. “She is. She’s really nice.” “And her name doesn’t make any more sense than yours does,” I ribbed. “Our parents have such terrible names that they wanted to make ours beautiful. We both got something bright and something botanical.” “My father left my mom when I was nineteen,” I said. “I was a freshman in college. I heard about it from phone calls and texts.” “That sounds weird,” said Peach. “It was.” “I don’t think my dad would ever leave my mom. Or the other way round. I just… don’t think they could see any other future, even if it was bad.” “But they love each other, don’t they?” “Yeah,” said Peach quietly. “Yeah, they love each other.” The silence went on a long time then, until it was too late to resuscitate the conversation and Peach had to pack it in. “Well. Goodnight. See you in the morning.” She slipped off to her makeshift floor bed. I lay there wondering when my father had stopped loving my mother, and how exactly he’d known. Morning was a pleasure. It was a chore, too, getting washed in the pump-operated shower out back, drying off and getting dressed. But it was a time of discovery. I was seeing Peach in the morning for the first time in a while without a magical influence impairing my judgment, and I got to see her house in the light, along with everything in it. There was no breakfast—for that, we had to go to Aglet and Crupper’s place. The day was bright and the ground was dry, making walking easier. Plenty of ponies were out and about, and I got plenty of stares and a few questions. Peach and I were both ready for them, though. The night before had fortified us. Peach’s mother stood in the doorway, having answered Peach’s knock. “You came back.” They touched, cheek to cheek. Aglet backed away and flipped her head toward the next room. “Come on in. Both of you.” I could smell something grainy and wholesome as soon as I entered. It was a conservatively appointed house, but its spareness was different from the spareness of Peach’s house. It was neater, for one thing, with long pieces of wood fixed along the hallways and walls for decoration, and a fine polished mantle with keepsakes on it, and a horseshoe hung over the dining room entrance, and bucolic paintings here and there. I was struck again by the amazing parallels between cultures—if it weren’t for the oddly low chairs and the tufts of wild grass decorating the cabinets, this could have been an empty nester homestead anywhere in rural America. They fed me waffles. I complimented them. Peach picked up a peach from the fruit bowl and eyed it hungrily. Her mother offered to slice it up for her, and with some reservation in her tone, asked whether I’d like some too. Naturally, I did. How could I visit my ex-girlfriend’s home without tasting the namesake fruits she grew up with? And I was glad I did—the chunks I got on my waffles were delicious. “Any notion of when you might visit us next?” asked Aglet. “I was thinking about that,” Peach said, her mouth not quite empty. “And I don’t know. I might get super lonely and come back in a few weeks. Or I might wait another couple months.” “I wouldn’t mind one bit if you came back for good,” said her father. “The town’s richer with you here.” Peach frowned. “Yeah. Maybe if the blog turns sour.” I didn’t like seeing her pessimistic. “I think you’ve got what it takes to keep it going. If your readers start getting bored, you’ll find some new angle to explore.” “Like moving to another city?” she asked. It sounded sort of accusing, so I ate a bite of my breakfast instead of answering. Crupper ignored our interaction. “Want to see my newest spell before you leave?” he asked Peach. “Oh, your father’s got a new spell and he’s been looking for ponies to show it to,” chided her mother. “You should watch.” So we finished up breakfast and went into the little study-library, so low I had to stoop while I was in there. It was full of books and featured a big wooden rack, painted white, made of hexagonal compartments that mostly contained scrolls. The rest of us sat on cushions against the wall while Crupper pulled out one of the larger scrolls from an upper compartment. He went to a wall cabinet, opened it telekinetically, and took out some dried herbs and beans and a little stone bowl. “What’re we in for?” asked Peach enthusiastically. “Wait and see,” said Aglet, putting her forehoof on Peach’s shoulder. Crupper took a metal and leather object sitting on a bookcase and magically put it on himself. It was a cart harness. He slung its back loop carefully over the back of a flimsy-looking chair. The chair tipped a little under the weight, nearly falling over. The stallion then unfurled his scroll and stared at it intensely. He raised the beans over the bowl and crumbled them with magic; then he added the herbs and stirred briskly. He raised the bowl before him, muttered a few soundless words, and sent a tan spurt of magic into the bowl. A flag of tan fire quietly surged up from the bowl, nearly hitting the ceiling. “That was pretty good,” I mumbled. Aglet gave me an amused look. “Oh,” she laughed. “That’s just the invocation.” Crupper winked at Peach and started forward. I fully expected the chair to fall over, but it didn’t. In fact, the harness stretched as if it were made of rubber. Even rubber would have had more than enough tension to pull the thing over. But it didn’t. Crupper walked the length of the room and the harness cords got long and thin, stretching like bubble gum instead of pulling over the chair. He stamped his hoof suddenly and there was a spark of magic. Then he yanked a haunch forward and the slim little strip pulled the chair over, kaplunk. Peach stood up and clomped the floor, twice with each forehoof. “That was a funny one! I like it.” “Yeah, not a lot of practical use there, most likely. But I like it, too,” said the stallion. “They call it Earwig’s Tensile Inhibitor. Might be able to work something out between it and the lumber stacking spell.” “Yep, you should probably put it in the next spot over,” agreed Peach. I ventured a question. “Do you use magic much in your work, sir?” He scoffed in embarrassment at me. “Only here and there. Mainly, I just dabble.” “I think it’s good to be able to do things,” said Aglet. Crupper nodded and grunted in acknowledgment. “Everyone should dabble with something,” said Peach. On our way to the train station, I asked Peach what her parents’ magical talents were. “They don’t talk about it much, since they pretty much only use them when they’re working. Mom makes cords and laces. Dad makes harnesses and saddles.” I considered this. “Is that why you were so eager to get rigged up like a Terran pony at that ranch?” Peach looked sheepish. “It might’ve had something to do with it. I knew my dad’s work, and I was curious how they did it in your place. But mainly, I just wanted to know what it’s like to be a Terran pony! Because you’ve gotta know where you come from.” “I wonder if there are things we should be learning from you, if you have all this stuff you can learn from us.” Peach nodded. “I bet there totally is. If I were in your position, I’d be trying to learn about FiMland too.” “What would you especially be trying to learn?” “I’d probably want to know what’s outside Equestria. Past the edges of the map. If we ponies are what’s in your imagination, then what’s the rest of it? Probably the secret parts of your souls.” I walked, and Peach’s words lent a thrilling excitement to what I could only see through the corners of my eyes. “That sounds like the sort of thing George would want to do. Explore the missing parts of the map and write about them.” She smiled, but there was pain in it. “Maybe now you can see why I like him so much.” “I hope he forgives you,” I offered. “He will. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t moved on.” The wind seemed almost musical before it shaped itself into a whistling melody, and then into distant words. …The world’s ponies may just pass away Simply float away Until they’re gone But we can keep our memories of all of them And we’ll treasure them Forever on… …They may look at us and not choose to care They may not see us there Amid the crowds But they can’t take away the cares we have Because we’ll always have The shapes in clouds… The angelfood white form of Clear Airway emerged from a low cloud and swirled down toward us, singing. Peach rose onto her hind legs and sang in response: Because we’ll always have… Clouds! They laughed a laugh so carefree I couldn’t tell which of them started it. Clear Airway spun tightly around Peach and then whirled her into a hug that left her hind legs kicking. Then she let go, and Peach fell easily to her hooves. “You can’t get away that easy!” teased the pegasus, still circling above us. “Fine,” retorted Peach, sitting back. “What do I have to do?” “You have to say goodbye!” Peach’s ears went up. “That’s totally easy!” “Well, it’s a little harder than not saying it!” Peach smiled. “That’s a point! Well, goodbye, Airway! There. Now I’ve risen to your challenge!” The pegasus lowered her circles until she landed. “You always were a challenge riser-to.” “I know, “ said Peach. “Are you ready for your next challenge?” “I am!” Peach declared. “You have to write to me.” “Oh. I can do that!” “And you have to let me know the next time you’re coming home.” “I’ll try and do that! Unless it’s an emergency like this time.” “I could have gone with you to see Cadance and roughed her up a little if she needed it. You know that, right?” Peach guffawed. “That’s horrible!” “Yeah, but I’d still do it for you.” Peach went and gave her friend a real, hooves-on-solid-ground hug. “You’re the best friend.” A white leg rose from the hug and pointed at me. “What about that guy over there?” “He’s the best friend too,” Peach said. “Ron! If I’m writing to Airway from Earth, you have to write to me from Trenton. It’s the least you can do.” “I know. I will. But maybe, as my last act as your money manager, I’ll help you get a phone before I go. That way I can call you!” Peach lit up and grinned. “You’re the smartest.” She turned back to the pegasus she was hugging and flicked her tail back and forth. “I want you to see Earth someday. It’s pretty great.” “Then I’ll come and see it! I’ll get some time off. But you have to write first!” “I will. And hey, can you help my family get subscribed to my blog? And if they won’t do that, could you at least print out a scroll of it and bring it here sometimes? I want them to know what I’m up to and where my head is.” Clear Airway stood back and saluted with a wing. “Can do!” “Thanks. I guess we’ll head on to the train then.” “Hey Ron!” Clear Airway faced me. “If I were you, I wouldn’t leave this girl. You may think you know her all the way, but she’s always got more secrets.” My feelings swam. “I know. I wish I knew them all.” “You can’t know all my secrets!” objected Peach, scandalized. “I don’t even know all of them.” “Well… then I wish I knew sixty percent of them.” “Well that’s more reasonable,” said Peach. “Nice meeting you!” called Clear Airway. “Until next time, Peach!” She raised her wings and caught the wind as easily as if she were a sheet of paper. “Bye!” yelled Peach. We waved her off. The sun was bright by then and the morning was alive. We had an hour to catch our train and could afford to amble, but we kept a steady, healthy pace. “Are we still going to see each other, after you move away?” Peach asked. “We can still visit, right?” “Right. It’s not that far. We’ll get together sometimes.” “My place or yours?” “Maybe both. Depends if we can find a way to get around. It’s hard when neither of us has a car. But there are options.” We walked for a while. “Do you think your family would like meeting me?” Peach asked suddenly. I imagined it happening. Her first encounters with Noam, my sister and her boyfriend, my mother. Instead of making me uncomfortable, as it probably would have a couple of weeks ago, the thought made me grin. “You know, I think it would be only fair,” I told her. “Just so long as we keep things awkward,” she joked. “If we stop being awkward before I meet them, then it won’t really be fair.” I laughed aloud and ran my fingers through her mane. Could it be a little awkwardness was a good thing? “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” I said.