//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Score of Years // Story: False Dawn // by Granit //------------------------------// Absorption peaks. Blackbody background... Simple enough to find. "Professor!" Model borrowed too heavily from plasma confinement experiments - fusion. Not getting anywhere fast with that. "Professor Sparkle! Wait up, please!" That's where she came in. Condensed matter physics - promising - more than statistical mechanics anyway. Avenue worth exploring. "Professor Twilight Sparkle!" "Yes?" Twilight turned around and looked the source of the incessant buzzing. Female. 20-22 range. Student, or TA from the pile of paper carried. Not from the Physics Department - Twilight did not forget faces. A little chubby. Face red from exertion, panting, presumably from catching up with Twilight’s brisk walk - out of shape. “Hi, I'm Open Book, I TA at J&M.” J&M - Journalism and Media Studies. Twilight prepared to resume her pace, “You can find my office hours on the school app.” Not that anybody uses that these days. “Wait, I want to interview you-” Open Book was showing early signs of a panic attack, her palid face even more flushed, and with her dark red hair in a ponytail, she gave the impression of a distressed lobster. The thought put a small smile on Twilight’s face, which Open Book mistook for friendliness, she was about to continue when Twilight interrupted her. “I will be happy to answer any questions related to experimental condensed matter physics that you may have, or any classes which I teach or have taught in the previous 5 years. Those are Electronic Structure of Solid Surfaces, Chemical Dynamics, Particle Physics II, Effective Field Theory, Many-Body Theory for Condensed Matter Systems, Statistical Physics I and II, and of course Relativistic Quantum Field Theory II.” Twilight’s smile turned into a small smirk at the sight of Open Book’s defocusing eyes and slightly open mouth, and decided that she had had enough fun, “or anything else which might interest you, provided that there’s any time left after dealing with my students’ problems.” Open Book nodded, dazed, and then shook her head vigourously, “It’s about Dr Pie.” That got Twilight’s attention. She knew two Dr Pies, both of whom belonged to the same family, but she doubted she’d be asked any questions about Maud Pie. Twilight decided to let the girl continue. “Dr Diane Pie. Pinkie Pie.” Open said, and tried to adjust the pile of paper she was carrying to rest her tablet on top of it comfortably. “1500 hours to 1700 hours today, Ms Book.” Twilight said, a littler terser than she intended, “I wouldn’t come any earlier than 1630 hours. From the past semester’s average the chances of me being free before that is a little under 10%.” A small pause, and Twilight added by way of clarification, “3% confidence interval.” Open Book was still swiping at her old fashioned tablet while using her chin, knee and elbows to try and steady her pile of paper. Twilight sighed and reached out to help Open Book steady her pile. “Tell them that electronic assignment submissions has a later deadline to account for server delays. That’ll cut down paper submissions.” It worked for Twilight too, and using LaTeX for physics assignment was actually difficult, she couldn’t imagine why J&M would still use paper submissions. Open Book smiled gratefully at the help, and then blinked, “huh…” She shook her head again - this was beginning to look like something of a habit for the poor girl, “I-” Twilight had delayed her progress by almost a minute, and she started to walk towards her office again, though this time at a slightly slower pace to accommodate her interlocutor, “walk with me. And you are of course aware that Dr Pie works at the Canterlot University Hospital, I hear they have excellent teleconference facilities.” Open Books stopped to stare for a moment, then scrambled to catch up. “It’s about the Friendship Games.” Twilight caught herself before she stumbled. “Tuesday, 3rd of April 2035, 5.48 pm” Open Book fidgeted at the other side of Twilight’s desk, and murmured to herself, probably a recording. Twilight never quite got used to seeing other people use their beads like that, although she made extensive use of such electronic devices. Back when she was a girl, she would probably have had to use a phone - probably held it up to her face to make sure the recording was crisp. Nowadays one simply wears an ear bead. How time flies. “Interviewer, Open Books, Department of Journalism and Media Studies, Everton University. I am sitting in Room L315, the room of Twilight Sparkle, Professor of Physics.” She had set down her pile of assignments on the desk. Twilight felt a twitch of irritation as her perfectly organised desk was invaded. Adjunct with the Department of Chemistry, Twilight corrected her in her mind, but said nothing. “Head of the Experimental Condensed Matter Physics Laboratory, Everton Institute of Science and Engineering, Everton University.” Open Book looked up at her expectantly, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, reminding Twilight of nobody so much as Spike when he was just a puppy. The thought of her life-long friend and number one companion sent a sharp jab of pain through her heart. Open Book probably noticed something. She glanced down at her tablet, uncertain, before looking back up again. “I am a Canterlot girl.” She said, by way of conversation. Twilight raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch. “We didn’t go to the same school, I went to CHS…” “I went to CHS for a year.” Twilight offered, more to keep the conversation off dangerous grounds than anything. Open Book blinked, “CHS? But I thought you - Friendship Games - Crystal Prep?” Twilight kept her face impassive. Stuttering. Didn’t perform basic research. Probability balance clearing. “I did go to Crystal Prep. For three years.” Enough rope. “Why would you go on to CHS if you completed your studies at Crystal Prep? Surely - I mean somebody like you…” Open Book was looking positively frazzled. “You wanted to talk about Dr. Diane Pie.” Twilight interrupted Open Book. Keep them off balance. Keep them guessing. Never let them know exactly how much you know. She could almost hear the mantra she taught Twilight so many years ago, on how to deal with her aggressive peers. Twilight paused. Where did that come from? CHS brought up too many memories. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” Open Books took a deep breath, curled a lock of hair in her left index finger. Fascinating. “Do you know Dr Diane Pie?” Twilight stood up. “The door is behind you. Please shut it when you leave.” She said and indicated the door. “Now, hold on a minute, hear me out!” Open Book half-stood, glancing frantically between Twilight and the door, eyes wide, “t-t-the Friendship Games, you don’t understand - the Friendship Games of 2014-” “If you wish to continue this interview, you will please stop this childish charade.” Twilight said, voice even. Open Book looked at Twilight, a small smile on her lips, and strangely calm, “that obvious, huh?” So the girl knew when the battle was lost. A point in favour. Twilight permitted herself a small smile. A lifetime ago she would have been taken in, before she took her under her wings. I learnt from the best. “What was it? I could have thought I put up a pretty convincing show.” Open Book said, sitting back down, and shook her hair loose from the messy ponytail, and ostentatiously powered off her tablet. Twilight inclined her head slightly. She had no obligation to help perfect Open Book’s little act. “Fair enough.” Open Book murmured, and pulled out an old-fashioned paper notebook, dog-eared and obviously well-thumbed, and a pencil. Twilight pointed at her earrings. Open Book sighed and took them off. Twilight raised an eyebrow a quarter-inch. Open Book raised both arms in surrender, and pulled out a card from the breast pocket on her vest. Twilight spotted the lotus logo on it - a Lotus card-phone. “That will do for now.” Twilight said. Quite aware that Open Book likely still had some sort of recording device hidden on her person, but decided not to push the issue. “I was a Canterlot girl.” Open Book said. “That part at least is true. Growing up, you hear stories about Canterlot High. I never thought much of it, I figured, hey, most cities in the country probably had their own set of urban legends, right?” She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. Lost her nervousness and fidgeting. No more stutters. Twilight glanced at the pile of paper Open Book had set down, and was gratified to note that it seemed to be divided into several messy stacks, with an old coffee stain on the side. Who knew how long this girl carried this around for her adorkable clumsy TA impression? Twilight waved her left hand in a small circle to indicate that the girl should continue. “Anyway, I didn’t think much of it, until I came here.” More lies? Twilight thought she had disabused the girl of the notion that her pack of lies was doing her any favours. No matter. She could afford another fifteen minutes of this charade. “My master’s thesis was on the statistical analysis of viral media phenomenon in the early days of the social networking era. How and why some floated and others sunk. I worked with the Manehattan Data Centre - big data types - and tracked a particularly small subset of viral media - the ‘found media’ craze that was popular the mid ‘10s.” Found media. Twilight felt her heart tighten, an old, familiar pain she hadn’t expected to feel in years. “You can probably see where I am going with this now.” Open Book powered up her tablet with a tap, and with a few practiced finger motions, a short video began to play, but all Twilight saw was that fiery mane. “As far as I can tell, that was the first, it spawned thousands of imitations around the country and the world. We had vampires, superheroes, ghosts, but the dark angel and demon theme was pretty popular, usually paired up with Source Studio type special effects and amateur garage band music.” Open Book’s words barely registered. Twilight's head was pounding, a dull thud that made thought nearly impossible. “You have somewhere to stay in town.” She said. Damn. She hadn’t intended to let on how much she guessed… Open Book glanced at Twilight sharply, “until the end of the week.” “See me here, at 1800 hours tomorrow. Bring only your notebook.” Twilight stood with a masterful effort, and was almost steady on her feet. Open Book stood up and left without another word, shutting the door behind her gently. Twilight slowly exhaled, and collapsed back onto her seat. She took off her glasses, folded them carefully and set them in their usual place in the stationery holder, and leaned forwards, burying her face in her palms. Twenty years. She had almost forgotten… She had convinced herself that she had. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair... Rainbow Dash was uncharacteristically quiet. Her back turned to Twilight, shoulders slightly slumped and head bowed. Twilight still remembered Rainbow’s usually vibrant shock of multicolour hair looking… limp and lifeless as they looked around the place Sunset called home. Perhaps it was a trick of the dim lighting… or just the memory. “Not a lot of stuff, huh?” Twilight heard herself say, and still felt the urge to hit her head on some nearby convenient surface. Was I really that bad? Yes. Yes I was. If it weren’t for- Rainbow Dash said nothing. Twilight looked around to take stock at Sunset's meagre belongings in the room, so neatly organised it could have been Twilight’s… Clothes folded and stacked inside an apple crate, cables neatly coiled and connected to form some sort of ersatz power outlet. A few blouses and a jacket on coat hangers hanging on a string pulled taut between the shelf and the windowsill, and probably doubled as a drying line. Books and papers on a makeshift shelf. A small camp-stove, a large water cooler bottle half-filled with water. A threadbare sheet on the hard, cold floor. Rainbow kneeled down and opened the trolley case the two of them manhandled up to the attic at the condemned building. It wasn’t easy finding the place, but in the end they managed, through a combination of Rarity’s detective skills and Rainbow Dash picking Sunset’s locker padlock. None of them liked invading Sunset’s privacy like that, but Princess Twilight had charged them to collect Sunset’s personal effects, especially her journal. What a week that was. They were all elated to find out that Sunset, who had vanished eight days seven hours and twelve minutes prior, was alive and we… was alive in Equestria. Then they learnt that she was not coming home. And now, they found out what home was. Twilight glanced around, at the single bare bulb wired to the power outlet, the peeling wallpaper mouldy with damp, the creaky unvarnished floorboards. She could smell it - and she could definitely hear it… vermin. Rainbow Dash began emptying the contents of the crates into the trolley case, slowly at first, and then with increasing violence. “Rainbow…” Twilight said, and put a hand on the rainbow-haired girl’s shoulder. “Get the book.” Rainbow said, voice dull and thick. The journal. On the low coffee table was the large, leather-bound volume, opened to a blank page, with a ballpoint pen resting between two leaves. It was like Sunset just walked off. Never left. Never disappeared. That night, Twilight went up to the loft. Spike looked at her, concern evident behind milky, cataract-ridden eyes, but had decided to say nothing. She had purchased a dear old house on the outskirts of Everton, then freshly renovated, with a large loft that was converted by the previous owners into a home office and living area, with full wiring and lighting. She had in mind some sort of comforting little space for herself, to be filled with her old trophies and books. But she had underestimated her own bibliophilic tendencies. Even in the age of cloud media, she had managed to fill up the place inside of two years. The loft had become so cluttered it was nearly impossible to navigate the maze of boxes, shelves, chests and piles of paper and books. At least the lighting of the place was more than adequate, despite the strange shadows cast by the haphazard arrangements of boxes and books in the loft. And buried deep, deep at the furthest end was a trolley case. She heard the sound of Spike’s claws on the pull-down ladder. Slow and steady, as if each step was a considerable effort. She felt Spike’s paw resting gently on her calf, “What’s that all about, Twi?” Twilight turned around and saw Spike looking up at her - and at the trolley case - and then back at her. He gently nuzzled her calf again. Twilight suppressed a sigh, and reach down to pick up the frail old dog, feeling how light and bony he was. “Some hotshot tracked us down - don’t worry about it, Spike, it wasn’t the first time and probably won’t be the last. I am just…” Just what? Spike didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. There was no reason why she had to dig this up. Feeling defiant, Twilight opened the case anyway. And - No. Oh no. “Twi? Talk to me!” Twilight ignored Spike, and with trembling fingers, she swiped the light's remote control dial on her phone, the light brightened before dimming on the third try. There was no mistaking it. Sunset’s journal was glowing faintly. Heart pounding with nameless dread, Twilight took the journal, but fumbled. The journal fell on the floor and opened. And there, a glowing message, in her own unmistakable handwriting… "Please help Sunset."