//------------------------------//
// XLV: Velocity 
// Story: Memoirs of a Magic Earth Pony 
// by The Lunar Samurai 
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I can’t tell you how long I sat in that room crying over the encounter, but I can tell you it wasn’t until the next morning that I moved from that spot. I must have fallen asleep after I curled up against the door, and for good reason. Emotions always drained me, whether or not that was a direct result of my difficulty coping with them I cannot say. Regardless, I rose from the ground as the birds roused me from my sleep the next morning. My mind was clear of the emotions that had lulled me to sleep the night before, but the dried tears that remained in my fur were painful reminders of what had happened.

I looked around the office. The pallid white light that bathed it muted everything inside, making it feel as solemn as I felt. This was a place of discovery, and I had discovered something very important the night before: my position in life. It wasn’t something I could fully comprehend with the lingering sadness, but it was one that would that I could at least start to understand. There was no reason why anypony should accept me for what I did as long as they knew who I was. My nature was a roadblock to the goals I had in life. The very thing that hindered me from achieving my dreams was the only thing I couldn’t achieve: physical change.

The books that lined the room stood in erratic conditions, ranging from brand new to falling apart. Evenstar had worked here for decades, and it was the place where he had pondered the most perplexing notions of scientific thought. There was, to my wondrous mind, a sense of holiness about the room. It had been the site of such great thought, and yet, as I thought to the thinker who dwelled here, the magic faded. Evenstar wasn’t some deity to me, he was a friend. Despite being in his presence for so long, watching him work night and day, I could not will myself to couple his incredible mind and the pony I called teacher. It wasn’t something I was consciously aware of, more I had a feeling of the rift that I had created, but the more I dwelt on that reality, the more distinct that difference became.

“You’re not that different… are you?” I asked to no pony in particular. My voice was barely a whisper, but the words filled the silent room all the same. The notion that Evenstar was just like me was slowly dawning on me. That chair that stood in the center of the room, it was one that I had sat in myself to ponder things wondrous to me.

This was a world that I was rapidly becoming familiar with, one that beckoned with its magnificent finger to join the few who dared try to understand its majesty. I rose to my hooves, that realization giving me a power that I hadn’t had before. As I stood, my perspective changed, and I rose above the back of the chair. It wasn’t the room that was important, no, it was the pony who occupied it. Evenstar had done what I was doing dozens of times over, but for me, this was the first time I truly understood the proper perspective to take. I wasn’t sitting in Evenstar’s chair to take in his knowledge that I might use, I was using the room as a catalyst to blaze my own trail into the mathematical unknown.

A moment later, and I sat staring out of the massive windows before me, taking in the near blindingly white panels of glass. The morning air was chilly, that much I could tell from the water that collected on the windows’ edges, but as I stared at the world beyond, something began to change. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination at first, but I saw a gentle hint of blue beyond the white veil before me. I leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of that splash of color once more, and a few minutes later, the fleeting cerulean wisp appeared again. The clouds of the storm were breaking.

Over the course of several minutes, white gave way to a vibrant blue sky. Far below stretched an ocean of clouds dotted with islands of mountaintops that reached far into the distance. The transformation was subtle, but it was nonetheless impressive. The early morning sun stretched long shadows across the world, their trailing forms slowly shortening in the young day.

By the time I had taken the view in full, I realized how much more full the room felt. No longer was everything dark and masked, but rather an explosion of color shone from every facet of the world around me. The books shone of reds and blues, their gold print shimmering in the morning light. The rough floor beneath my hooves seemed to glisten with different shades of brown as the sun bathed it in its warm glow. Everything seemed fresh, new, like something had changed before me and I was only able to sit and bask in its glory as it shone before me.

However, as the novelty wore off, I realized where I was. Obviously I was in Evenstar’s office, but for some reason he wasn’t present yet the room felt full. I knew that he and Amethyst were off presenting what I had discovered, and that didn’t sit well with me, but I wasn’t interested in my failures at this moment. I was focused on that feeling of completion as I sat in that chair, the chair that I had been shown by Evenstar. There was something about it, something that just felt right about resting in its support, like it was made for me.

Then, as my mind cleared once more, I let my eyes drift closed. There was this feeling from somewhere inside of me that, to this day, I cannot pinpoint its origin. Hope and fear both drove it, peace and turmoil gave it fuel, and a longing to see what came next made it as real as the expanse before me. As I turned my attention inward, I was greeted with a new sense of confidence. In my mind there were no limits. I was not bound, as I was in reality, to do as they told me to do. Instead, I was the captain of a ship whose crew would fight for whatever I believed in. It was a powerful feeling, one that fed on itself, growing stronger still as I let my perspective sink deeper into myself. It was there, after that meditation, that I was greeted with a familiar sight: a spinning disk of stars.

I had, in a sense, abandoned my mental world. That first step I took into theoretical magic was its development, and I had let it stagnate. It wasn’t what I remembered, it didn’t carry that wondrous feeling of presence as it had so long ago, but it was mostly intact. So, without a second thought as to what I should do, I began reconstructing it. It didn’t take long, in fact it felt more like tidying up an old room rather than redefining the nature of a universe. A few adjustments to the dimensions themselves came first which took a bit more effort than I recalled. It wasn’t an impossible task, but it took quite a while for the world to stop the bias it had toward the central point.

The stars were scattered across the central plane, and a large portion had collected in the center, a form of degradation that I would become all too familiar with later in life. As I redefined the second dimension using the techniques I remembered from that old book, a sense of familiarity washed over me. When I had done this before in my dorm room I was utterly determined to follow that book’s guidance to the letter. Now, however, I found that my pursuit was more fluid. Instead of being directed by a written outline, I was guiding the process.

I naturally commanded the points where they should go and, as I would realize much later, it was easier than before. Something about the work I had been doing seemed to push things where they ought to go. The mathematics which were so strange written out on paper melded with my world that I barely recognized their impact. They described things, like the motions of the stars as they swirled in an endless spiral against the dark void of my mind.

The more I beheld the scene in my mind’s eye, the more I realized the uncanny familiarity that it stirred in me. It looked like the night sky, with all the glistening stars spinning just like they did in the heavens. What confused me was why it was familiar in such a different perspective. I wasn’t looking out to the stars, I was looking down onto them. I could control them to shift the perspective in a way I never could have imagined before. With my mind I spun and danced around that field of stars, looking at its every facet to learn what I could.

That was the first time I can remember ever being truly lost in my own mind. Space and time alike bent and distorted as I experienced that simple swirling set of stars. It was beautiful, that much I knew, but there was a feeling deep within that urged me to look further. Every moment I discovered something or came to a conclusion, a new pathway opened up, inviting me to journey deeper into my own creation.

All good things, however, eventually come to an end. I was abruptly torn from my mental meandering not by my own will, but rather by a sharp noise that rang through the room. Somepony was at the door, knocking for my attention.

What on earth, I thought as I cleared my mind and strode to the door. I stumbled a bit, my body still recovering from the presumable hours I had spent seated in the middle of the room. However, as the mental fog cleared, I placed my hoof on the handle.

“I’m sorry, but Evenstar’s not here,” I said before I could get a glimpse of the pony on the other side.

“I am now.” Before I could react, he started once more. “We need to talk.”