Chapter 5
Unlikely Alliances
Admiral Biscuit
“What do you mean, she’s gone?”
Perry didn’t even look at the dean; he just kept staring morosely out the window. His eyes were darting from pony to pony on the street and his right ear was twitching nervously. “I mean, she’s gone. Flew out the window.”
Bright Star resisted the sudden overwhelming urge to bang her muzzle repeatedly into something unyielding. The floor would be a good first choice, but Perry’s skull was running a close second. “You were supposed to watch her.”
“I did watch her.” Perry turned towards her for a moment. “I watched her fly right out the window. I watched her fly toward the hospital.” He pointed a hoof in the general direction of the builiding. “I suppose I could have grabbed her tail, but I didn’t. I could have lept out the window after her, but I didn’t do that, either.” He peered back out the window, muzzle pressed up against the glass. “I don’t see her anywhere.”
“She’s probably still at the hospital,” Bright Star muttered. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done for it now. We might as well deliver the book and get this over with.”
“I don’t see what help I can be. I should probably stay here until Featherbrain comes back. Somepony will have to open the window for her.”
Bright Star stomped across the floor, her rage further fueled by the circuitous path she had to take to avoid Featherbrain’s belongings. It appeared as if the pegasus had emptied her trunk by making a mini tornado—her journals and papers were scattered all around the room—mixed with half-empty jars of feather gloss and mane and tail shampoo. A small collection of badly-wrinkled formal clothes were laid out on the bed and bench; three striped socks were draped over the headboard.
I should have just given her the book, let her get to the hospital, deliver it—if she remembered—and come back. Bright Star paused to examine a book Featherbrain had re-bound by driving straightened shoe nails through the covers. On second thought, it’s better that I didn’t. “Come along, professor. We’re ready to go to the hospital, and you’re coming with us.”
“Very well.” He turned away from the window and made a dramatic show of straightening his tie. “I suppose the sooner it’s over with, the better. Then we can go back to our hotel and wait.” He absently kicked a jar of hoof polish out of his way. “Next time, I suggest we all get separate rooms. I prefer a tidy space.”
“Then you should be glad I didn’t get us rooms at the Paradise Inn. Just turn your back and pretend she isn’t here.” Bright Star led the stallion out onto the narrow balcony. “I see Lecol and Ivory are already waiting for us.”
Ivory looked up at the sound of the dean’s voice. “Can we get a carriage?” she asked hopefully. “My hooves hurt from walking from the train station.”
“It’s not that far. You can see the hospital from here.”
“You can see Canterlot, too. You’re not suggesting that we walk there are you?”
Lecol rolled her eyes. “Good physical exercise is good for the brain. Everypony says so. Good, well-balanced meals, too. All of you eat too quickly, that’s why you’re out of shape. A proper meal is served slowly with several courses, and should always be enjoyed with a glass of red wine.”
Ivory lowered her head. “Oh, please, not again. Don’t—”
“Good bowel health is also important. A mare shouldn’t—”
“All right, all right! I give. We’ll walk!” Ivory glared at Lecol.
• • •
Bright Star led the way, gritting her teeth at the group’s slow progress. Lecol frequently paused to admire a particular bit of the town—be it flowerbox, storefront, or fountain, she felt compelled to remark upon it. Ivory spent most of the walk looking down at the grassy thoroughfares below her hooves, trying to pick the firmest, cleanest patches of grass to step on. She only picked up her pace when the route took them across a paved courtyard. Perry remained close to the dean, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Had he been able to keep his neck still, he might have managed, but he was snapping his head around every time he heard a mare’s voice.
“She’s probably not even here any more,” Ivory muttered.
He jerked his head up. “She is,” he whined. “Pokey mentioned her in his last letter. She could be anywhere. Why couldn’t we have waited until after moonrise? I bet the street’s empty by then.” He flattened his ears as a distant bell rang across the town.
“That must be the school bell,” Lecol remarked. “How quaint. This would be a nice town to raise foals in, I think. Everypony here seems so friendly.”
“What’s wrong with Canterlot?” Ivory looked down at a patch of grass in front of a store suspiciously. It was greener and less-trampled than the surrounding grass. She cautiously stepped around it as a precaution. “If I’d known the streets weren’t paved, I’d have put in my calkins.”
“It’s not natural to walk on stones,” Lecol remarked. “Our foremothers did just fine with bare hooves on earth.”
“And they starved to death in the winter, too! If you’re such a hopeless romantic, write historical fiction!”
“Try walking with a little more toe,” Bright Star suggested to Ivory. “It helps.”
It’s hard not to be romantic,” Lecol replied. “Look at the homes: traditional earth-pony architecture. The beams are just as curved as they were when they came out of the forest. They’re not trying to change nature; they’re living in it. I saw a home built into a tree.”
“Which way is it from here?” Perry looked around. They’d rounded a corner and stumbled into an open-air market. Lecol gave a squeal of delight and trotted over to a small stand with a hoof-painted sign advertising grapes.
“I don’t know,” Bright Star admitted. It had seemed easy enough to get there when viewed from the inn—the hospital was one of the more substantial buildings in Ponyville, and could easily be seen over the cluster of houses and shops around the center of town. No road led straight there, though; houses had been built wherever there had been space with no thought of urban planning. Naturally, none of the roads or alleyways had names—or if they did, the Ponyvilleans assumed that everypony would know them, and didn’t bother with signs. “I think it’s that way. But maybe we better ask somepony.”
“Yeah.” Perry looked over towards a blonde unicorn filly that was eyeing a display of chocolate candy. “I’ll ask.” He quickly walked over to the stand, ignoring the cold blue eyes of the salesmare. “Excuse me, little filly. Do you happen to know the quickest way to the hospital?”
“I sure do.” The filly smiled brightly. “From here, it’s best to go around the end of the market, cut through the alleyway by Mr. Breezy’s fan shop, and then take the left road at the statue. Are you hurt?”
“No, I just have a . . . somepony I have to meet there.”
“My mom goes there sometimes, ‘cause she’s kinda clumsy,” she offered. Losing interest in the conversation, she turned back to the display of candy. “Hey, Bon Bon, do you have anything with coconut in it? Sparkler said I should try something different to see if I like it, and we learned about coconuts in school today. They’re from tropical islands and grow on trees.”
Perry began going down the road the filly had suggested, not bothering to see if the rest of the group was following. He’d decided that he’d already been around far too many unfamiliar ponies for his comfort; if he got to the hospital before anypony else, so be it. They could just catch up later.
However, Bright Star had managed to corral Lecol while he was talking, so the three mares fell in behind him. Unconsciously, Perry slowed enough so that the dean was back alongside his flank.
The fan shop was an easy enough landmark to identify; besides the expected signboard with a painting of a fan, the store’s name was lettered above the windows in neatly-painted Unicorn script—it was obvious the proprietor had meant to appeal to a high class of pony. A blue and yellow diamond awning hung over the front door. He hardly spared the neat display windows a passing glance, intent on not missing the alleyway.
As promised, it ran alongside the fan shop, past a small wainwright’s shop, and deposited them into another wide grass street. It was just the kind of shortcut a filly would like, but Lecol had to duck under a short arched brace that spanned the alleyway, and neatly-stacked spokes and felloes encroached into the path, requiring the unicorns to press up against the wall of the adjoining shop. Ivory seemed particularly distressed by this—she leaned over so that her clothes wouldn’t brush on the wall while carefully planting her hooves on the gravelly soil.
The statue was unmistakable: it was a pony balanced on a ball, carved out of pink marble. It certainly lacked the solemnity of Canterlot statues, but the artist had faithfully captured the essence of a playful pony. Best of all, the street was utterly deserted, lined with two-story homes instead of businesses.
Even if he hadn’t been instructed which street to take after the fountain, the correct route wasn’t hard to find: a quick glance revealed the hospital just over a bridge; the other street ended when it reached a pair of houses.
With their destination finally in sight, Perry picked up the pace. The dean and Lecol—who’d finally seen enough nearly-identical houses to be able to pass them without stopping—also followed, while Ivory kept up her slower pace, treading carefully on the unfamiliar grass.
• • •
The inside of the hospital was fairly familiar. Most of the rural hospitals had been built to nearly the same blueprint. The lobby was filled with simple benches and the same painting of Princess Celestia that graced every public building.
“We’re from the University,” Bright Star explained to a nurse. “Do you know what rooms the . . . aliens are in?”
“Second floor, south wing, in corner rooms—192 and 232. Up the main stairs, to the left. Should I wake the doctor? He was up all last night caring for the patients. He’s asleep in the nurse’s lounge.
“We could just give her the book,” Perry suggested. “And then go back to Canterlot.”
The dean narrowed her eyes.. “We did not come here just to hand off the book and be done with it. I wish we had. I wish I had. Then I wouldn’t have had to put up with all of you whining for the entire train ride, the trip to the hotel, the hour we were actually at the hotel, and the whole way to the hospital. But we are here now, we are highly educated—specialists in our various fields, in fact—and therefore we must offer any assistance we are able.”
“But—”
“I need not remind you that Princess Celestia personally asked for us to do this.” She opened the flap of her bag and pulled out a sheet of parchment. “I regret that it has come to this.”
“You read us that letter at least a dozen times on the train,” Ivory interjected. “I could recite it by heart.”
“This isn’t that.” The dean dangled the paper in the air between Ivory and Perry. “It’s a letter of resignation. I took the liberty of writing four of them. One for each of you. All you have to do is sign at the bottom, and you’re free to do whatever you want. Shall I ask the nurse for an inkpot and quill, or shall we go up to the second floor together?”
Twilight had already had concerns when Professor Featherbrain and Fluttershy had burst into the room. Still, her former professor had been a convincing talker, and she’d eventually relented and let them stay. She was, however, beginning to regret that decision.
A small part of her brain was wondering when she’d changed from the wide-eyed foal who believed that her elders and professors knew everything to the more mature mare who realized that even the most well-intentioned ponies made mistakes sometimes—and maybe some of them weren’t as wise as they’d seemed.
Oh, sure, she’d enjoyed her class with Featherbrain. First, the pegasus was more interesting than the other professors. They all wore jackets and ties and generally had conservative mane-cuts. If Featherbrain remembered to wear anything at all, it most often clashed with her coat. Her lectures were memorable as well—one time she had dumped a cage full of fruit bats out over a lab table. As the fillies ran around the room trying to catch them again, she first apologized for bringing the wrong container—and then calmly explained the bats’ flight habits to her students, and why they were particularly attracted to Blue Belle’s lunch. In the end, the bats had been successfully corralled, and Twilight was inspired to write a paper on them.
At the time, she’d assumed that Featherbrain had meant to do that as a way to spice up her lecture. After all, nopony had been hurt, and nothing had been lost except for Blue Belle’s sandwich. But if it had been an accident—and if it had happened with the more dangerous arboreal cephalopod—what would have happened then?
What was Featherbrain doing in Ponyville anyway? Had Princess Celestia sent her here to help them with Dale? The most helpful thing would have been either a doctor who specialized in Dale’s species—which didn’t exist—or the book which he had brought that had detailed pictures and drawings of his anatomy. She might have given it to the doctor already, Twilight thought. No, she probably didn’t. If she’d gone to see the doctor, she would have come in through the door, not the window. She regarded the pegasus again. Probably.
It was unsurprising to see her whip out her camera—she’d proudly passed around photographs of some of the less-common species of Equestria during her lectures. She’d flatly stated that a photograph was worth several pages of writing. Twilight had never imagined it from the receiving creature’s end, though. It was kind of intrusive, to be honest; even Dale seemed to be losing patience with the whole operation.
When she finally ran out of film, Featherbrain approached him cautiously, and Dale squatted down. ““He crouched like that a lot on the beach,” Lyra said. “He seemed generally opposed to having his rump touch the ground, at least at first. It’s probably so he can be prepared for flight at a moment’s notice.” Twilight nodded. She’d seen him do that with Ambrosia, too. Featherbrain held his scent in, getting a good memory of it. There was a lot one could learn from scent, although many unicorns overlooked it, since it wasn’t polite to go up sniffing strangers. It was interesting to see that—once again—Dale did not reply in kind. Instead he asked Lyra a question.
Despite not knowing more than a few words in Dale’s language, the entire process of communication was enlightening to study. Twilight hadn’t imagined the complexity of the exchanges Dale and Lyra had had on the beach: he combined charades with a few words; Lyra responded back in his language. Once he was satisfied, she turned to Twilight.
“He wondered about his scent,” she said. “Aside from food, I haven’t seen him smelling anything else consistently. It’s probably not a sense he uses very much.”
“He’s probably more oriented towards pungent smells. He hasn’t got very large nostrils, so he’d have trouble picking up subtle odors. I suppose that wouldn’t matter too much for a scavenger.”
Dale kept watching Featherbrain intently, so he didn’t notice as Fluttershy crept across the room to get a closer look at him. Twilight thought about saying something—but the way in which Dale and Ambrosia had interacted had been quite informative, and she wondered what he might do if he were approached unexpectedly.
At first, he did nothing. His ears did not turn towards Fluttershy, even though her approach—while quiet—had not been silent. Instead, Dale seemed to be focused on Featherbrain’s wings, almost to the point of rudeness. Of course, Featherbrain didn’t notice; she was occupied with her camera. She probably wouldn’t care if she did notice, Twilight thought.
Fluttershy sized him up and quietly tried to get his attention. As he continued to ignore her, she finally took matters into her own hooves and gently tapped his side. Dale looked down in surprise.
“Do you think he’s frightened of Fluttershy?” Twilight asked.
Lyra watched as Dale tentatively placed his hand on the pegasus’ back. “No, I don’t think he is.” She frowned. “I wonder how she does that? He seemed reluctant to come close enough to touch when we were on the beach. Do you think her influence on animals extends to him as well?” She looked over towards Kate’s bed. Featherbrain had pulled the covers back and was taking photographs of the girl. “If so, it might help when she wakes up.”
“I don’t know.” Twilight frowned. She hated not knowing things. “Fluttershy’s pretty introverted around other equines, but gets along with Spike quite well. I don’t think she liked Gilda—but nopony did. She doesn’t like adult dragons . . . Dr. Goodall said that Ka-th-rin attacked her and the nurse; if she’s aggressive towards Fluttershy, she might become frightened of Dale, too.”
“I wonder if the painkillers are having too much of an effect on them? Maybe they’re making Dale a little more . . . tactile. Maybe they’re why the mare reacted so badly when she first woke up.” Lyra looked over at the girl, assuring herself that she was still asleep.
“Painkillers sometimes have that effect—or he might be reaching for comfort in a stressful situation. When he had his hand on your head—it’s probably just a comfort reaction, like nuzzling or grooming or preening. You might want to tell the nurse that his behavior is a little unusual. If it is an adverse reaction to the medication, they’re better off knowing as soon as possible.”
“I wonder if they’re using anything special.” Twilight levitated over the clipboard on the foot of Kate’s bed. She took out a pen and parchment to make a few notes. “Fairly conventional, except for the potions. Maybe they’re sensitive to opiates? I’ll have to ask the nurse to cut back the dosage.” Her ears perked as a distant bell rang. “School must be out.”
The two mares shared a slightly horrified look. “I don’t suppose the—”
“I hope not.” Twilight tapped her hoof on the tile nervously. “Rhyme won’t be in for another hour, so I suppose they won’t find out until school tomorrow.”
Her ears snapped around at the sound of a loud smack. Featherbrain was rubbing a hoof and flapping slowly backwards while Dale shouted at her. His face was a brilliant crimson color.
“He’s quicker than he looks,” Lyra commented dryly.
“I wish I’d seen what angered him.”
“I think he doesn’t like her . . . or maybe pegasi in general.” Lyra’s ears were focused on Dale. He pointed at her, but Twilight took the initiative first.
“Professor Featherbrain, mind your manners.” Twilight looked at the two pegasi. Fluttershy was her friend, and Featherbrain had once been a respected professor—but she was no longer a student.
“But there is so much we can learn from this creature!”
“I don’t care.” Twilight stepped forward. “He is not a specimen in your lab, he’s a sapient being. Whatever his wishes and desires are, we must respect them.”
“He came here,” she muttered. “If he didn’t want to be studied, he wouldn’t have come.”
“No.” Twilight stomped her hoof. “That’s not relevant. An hour ago, he legally became an ambassador of Equestria. His motivations are no longer an issue, but his legal rights are. So long as he remains within the borders of Equestria, he is entitled to all the rights and privileges of every other Equestrian citizen, and that includes the sovereignty of his body. He is under the protection of the Crown.
“I will allow you to stay in this room and observe from a distance, if you so choose. However, I cannot in good conscious allow you to approach closer than two body lengths from him henceforth, unless he personally allows it.”
“He doesn't speak Equus,” she protested. “Does he? How can I ask him?”
“It makes no difference to his rights what language he speaks. Talk to his interpreter.” Twilight waved a hoof at Lyra.
“Fine.” Featherbrain pointed to the bed. “I suppose that one is another ambassador?”
“As far as you’re concerned, yes.” Twilight looked over at the bed. “Honestly, I’d think a little restraint would do you well. She is seriously injured, and despite the best efforts of the doctors and Zecora, she may not fully recover. As I am sure you are aware, Equestrian law provides automatic asylum for any refugee until such a time as they are clearly able to state their case before a judge or noble. Even if she spoke our language—or we hers—her injuries and treatment make her legally incompetent at the moment, so she cannot give consent. In fact, I think you should take your camera and leave. He’s obviously not in a mood to deal with you right now.”
Featherbrain snapped her wings out and snarled. “You’d be happy if we never made any progress . . . I see why you live in this backwater town, now. You never wanted to fit in with modern society.”
Twilight’s horn glowed faintly—just a small corona right at the tip. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Lyra side-step so she’d have a clear line if she needed to cast a spell.
“I’ve learned a lot since I left Canterlot,” Twilight said quietly. “I’ve learned to be respectful to guests, and to put myself in somepony else’s horseshoes.” She tilted her head towards Dale, never breaking her stare with the pegasus. “He’s awfully curious about you, too. Would you like it if I held you down while he satisfied his curiosity?” Her aura flared a little brighter.
Featherbrain glared at her for a moment, clearly thinking of something to say but failing. Her wings drooped in an unconscious signal of defeat. Finally, she nodded. “I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, to scare him. I’ll stay at the hotel. Even if the rest of the professors go back to Canterlot, I’ll stay. He’s—he’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I want to study him—I need to!” She placed her hooves on the windowsill. “Let me know if he changes his mind, okay?”
Twilight breathed a sigh of relief as Featherbrain flew out the window. Things were getting just a little too hectic . . . she’d have to set up some kind of rule, or else everypony would be crowding into the room. Especially since there were other professors here: they’d be falling all over themselves to gain access. And there would be the doctor and the nurses, Cheerilee to help with the language lessons—probably Octavia at first, too.
“Fluttershy, I ask you as a friend to keep back from him as well.” Twilight’s expression softened. “Please don’t make me order you.”
“He’s sick and hurt,” she protested. “I . . . I want to help him get better.”
“We all do . . . but we can’t mess this up.” Twilight smiled reassuringly. “Remember when you tried to care for Philomena?”
Fluttershy hung her head. “But . . . this isn’t the same. He needs somepony to look after him! Look at how skinny he is—he must be starving!”
Twilight saw her opportunity and seized it. “Yes, he probably is. Lyra says that he eats carrion. It’s probably an important part of his diet.”
“Are you sure?” Fluttershy looked back at Dale, then Lyra. “I, um, don’t want to contradict you, but from what I can see, his teeth look just like any other stallion’s.”
“He had it for lunch twice,” Lyra replied. “I know. I shared his meal.” Her face reddened.
“Oh.” Fluttershy looked at her curiously. “What was it like?”
“It was kind of salty—not like fortified grain, but more than pasture grass or vegetables. A little stringy, too; kind of like celery, but stretchier.”
“Was it tough, or tender? Did you have trouble chewing it or swallowing it?”
“No, not really. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever eaten before.”
“He must either wait until it’s decomposed or cook it,” Fluttershy said. “That could explain why he hasn’t got good teeth for tearing flesh. It wouldn’t be any trouble to get some fish; that would probably do, but if he needs more calories in his diet it might not be enough. Some of Opalescence’s food might do in a pinch. I could have Mr. Vulture see what he can find in the Everfree, and tell the other birds to keep a watch out, too. I bet we can find something tasty for him by dinnertime.” She turned back to Twilight. “I’ll write a letter to the Griffon embassy. We can get a steady supply through their couriers.”
She turned towards Lyra again. “Did you see any insects? He might eat them, too.”
“Ew, really?” Twilight stuck out her tongue. “Who would eat bugs?”
“Oh, um, a lot of animals do. They’re full of protein and stuff, and a lot of them are pretty easy to catch . . . things like grubs and ants. But some of them are poisonous to the wrong kind of creature. I should bring some of them. A lot of my animal friends like them, and his teeth would be fine for eating them. Mr. Bear knows where there’s a bunch of rotten logs full of them.”
“Thanks for taking care of that, Fluttershy. It’s such a relief to be able to rely on you. I’m sure he’ll be happy with some food he likes.” She floated a sheet of parchment out of her saddlebag. “I already took him to the kitchen to pick whatever he liked that the hospital already had, but I made you a list of . . . of carrion he marked off on his list. I didn’t think to list any insects, but if you think that’s what he’ll want, can you get some of those, too?
“Oh, um, it’s not a problem.”
“Twilight?” One of the guards nosed into the room. “There’s some ponies here who want to talk to you.”
She turned to see the eager face of dean Bright Star peering around the guard’s backside, no doubt hoping for a glimpse of Dale.
“I’d better go see what she wants. She’s probably not alone . . . I’ll see if I can coax them into another room. Then, maybe we can bring in one at a time to look at Dale, if he’s willing.”
Fancy Pants shifted on the uncomfortable bench. Not for the first time he regretted his decision to take the local train from Canterlot, rather than the express.
You needed to make sure, he told himself for what seemed the hundredth time. You needed to know whose side Princess Celestia was on before you committed yourself. She’d hinted that it was more a political consideration, and she’d said that the trial was a formality—but she’d had to recuse herself. She’d promised to do her best to delay the warrant until the vote on the Ambassadorship.
In that, he had not been disappointed. When the Princess gave specific orders, they were carried out to the letter—in this case, it had been particularly easy. He knew that by law a Royal Guard serving legal papers must travel by the soonest available means of transport to get to his destination, and the local train left Canterlot a full half-hour before the express. True, it arrived many hours later—had Celestia wished haste, she would have told the guard to take the second train. But she had not, because she had wanted to buy just a little bit of time.
Fleur had paced up and down the superannuated coach, looking for her mark. It hadn’t been hard—he was wearing full regalia. She’d sat down beside him, engaging him in small talk while they sat at the station. Whether or not he’d guessed the purpose of her visit was immaterial; she was a sufficient distraction. He’d already told her to delay him at the station for as long as possible while he went into the office and received a very important telegram. Of course, this was assuming that the Nobles’ Council would successfully come to a decision—and that their decision would be the proper one. A stallion could hope..
Fancy Pants flattened his ears as the shriek of the brakes rang through the mostly-empty coach. From the other end, a feminine yelp followed by a loud thud announced Fleur’s latest ploy—a ruse so old the guard was sure to fall for it.
He trotted to the vestibule, a single small travelling bag suspended in his aura. Fleur was responsible for the rest of the baggage, and if he knew her, she’d convince the guard to carry it all off the train for her. If not—well, she played a weak fashion model well enough, but had a field strength stronger than any unicorn he’d known. She could tangle him up hopelessly in suitcases and bags, and make it look like an accident.
Before the train had come to a full stop, Fancy Pants executed a somewhat sloppy dismount, skidding across the wooden station platform before he regained his footing. The telegraph office was just to the end of—there.
A moment later he emerged, a small yellow rectangle floating securely in his aura. He glanced up the platform, noting with a small smile the careful way in which the conductor placed the step for Fleur to descend. As soon as her hooves were on the ground, she glanced up the platform in his direction. He waved the telegram slightly and nodded. Fleur smiled and gave him a wink, then he was off at a gallop.
His first stop was the Ponyville Express. The paper was written by the rather oddly-named Apple Honey—Fancy Pants had long since given up on determining how earth pony parents named their offspring—when she wasn’t busy running her small freehold or repairing and selling used farm implements. An antique printing press sat in the back of her shop, dutifully pressed into service once a week. While it would never win a literary award—the mare could barely spell, and her typesetting skills were sadly lacking—it was the one reliable source of local news, and she dutifully attended every major event in Ponyville. He’d discovered this with a few hastily-composed telegrams. Fancy Pants kept his ear to the ground in Canterlot, but was less well-informed of the events in Ponyville. Had it not been the home of the Element Bearers, he doubted whether he’d have known the town existed at all.
Before he even opened the door, the unmistakable smell of printer’s ink assaulted his nostrils. Oddly, it was more muted once he stepped inside the shop—the pervasive odor of grease and farm masked it somewhat.
When he entered the small office, she was nowhere to be seen. He heard a feminine voice call out “I’ll be right with you,” followed by a loud clang of a falling wrench.
He glanced around the shop. It was fairly neat—by Ponyville standards. A yellowed newspaper tacked to the wall announced the opening of this very shop; the tagline was her own name. Even the header was misspelled, which hardly surprised him. The plaster walls were in need of a coat of lime, and the chairs appeared to have been rejects from a rummage sale. The desk was piled high with harness pieces, rusty plow teeth, and a stack of papers weighed down with a bent horseshoe. A spool of twine and two small rolls of soft wire were hung from a fairly-straight branch, which was tied up to the bottom of a home-made desk. He glanced over the counter and discovered a faded Wonderbolts pin up calendar that was two months behind—although he had to admit, it was a flattering, if somewhat unrealistic portrayal of Soarin. No wonder she hasn’t changed it.
In short, it was not the kind of shop that he was accustomed to. However, he took it in stride. His business took him odd places, after all, far outside the comforts of Canterlot. And while this shop wasn’t as trendy or exclusive as Barneigh’s, it was the better for it. Barneigh’s made things for mares and stallions who never worked a day in their life; this store was a vital chain in Equestrian food production.
A mare he presumed to be Apple Honey finally emerged from the back room. A patch of dried mud matted down her coat on her left withers, and a small stripe of grease angled across her muzzle. A range of conflicting emotions ran across her face the instant she saw him, and he wasn’t surprised. He was hardly the type of stallion one would expect in such a place.
“What can I do for you, sir?” she managed, unconsciously rubbing her muzzle. She opened her mouth again for a moment and then clamped it shut.
“I’m from Canterlot,” he began before remembering that being ‘from Canterlot’ and a unicorn automatically meant he was one of ‘them,’ and therefore to be regarded with due caution in a small town such as Ponyville. “I’m on the Nobles’ Council.” Which did not help his case, if the narrowing of the mare’s eyes was any indication. “Just today—this afternoon, in fact—the Council approved a new embassy. It’s to be located in Ponyville. They also nominated a new ambassador. A resident of Ponyville. Lyra Heartstrings.”
That got her attention. “Lyra, eh? The things that mare gets up to . . . my cousin Bon Bon and her—” The mare’s mouth clamped shut again, suddenly realizing that he might be a reporter here to get an early scoop, one she desperately wanted for herself.
“I’m on my way to deliver the message,” he said, waving the telegram in his aura. “I’d heard Applejack speaks well of you—” a little flattery wouldn’t hurt, even if it wasn’t true— “and thought I ought to let you know. You are the mare who publishes the local paper, aren’t you?”
Her chest puffed out in pride. “Darn right I am.” She pointed a hoof at the wall, indicating the faded newspaper page. “Goin’ on twenty years. I suppose this’ll be front-page news in alla them Canterlot papers.”
“No doubt,” he replied. “I wouldn’t know. I’m on my way to let Lyra know. She hasn’t accepted the post yet.” Fancy Pants paused, waiting to see her reaction. The glint in her eyes was all he could have hoped for. As badly-composed as the local paper was, she at least had her ear to the ground when it came to important local news. “I wonder how the mayor will react?” He tapped his hoof against the ground. “I suppose by tomorrow, there’ll be Canterlot reporters all over Ponyville, and maybe even a story in the evening paper.” Back off a little, he reminded himself. Just because it’s a small town doesn’t make them all idiots. Rarity didn’t become any less of a designer when her humble hometown was revealed. “I have to meet with her, but I’d be glad to answer any questions you might have afterwards. She’s at the hospital, I’ve been told. Good day, ma’am.”
“Good day,” she muttered automatically. He could feel her eyes on him as he walked out the door. She’d be a little suspicious that the story had been dropped in her lap, but as soon as she took a trip down to the train station, it’d be confirmed—well, assuming that the stallion who took the message revealed the contents. He wasn’t supposed to—but Fancy Pants guessed that this was gossip too good to pass up. He smiled inwardly. The first half of his mission had been accomplished; now he had to tell Lyra before the guard made it to the hospital.
He ignored the stares from ponies walking through the streets. Some of them knew him, but most were probably just curious about what a well-dressed unicorn was doing walking through town. He couldn’t know that he was following in the hoofsteps of the professors, or that their behavior had been odd by anypony’s standards. Even without overhearing conversations, there were enough turned heads that he knew the townsponies were watching him carefully indeed. He would have to make some time for them later—they would be his strongest allies. The case would largely be tried in public court before it even got before Luna—and while that wouldn’t influence the younger diarch’s judgement, it would mitigate her sentence if the trial went badly.
The law was not unlike a good game of chess, he reflected. If one planned more moves ahead than one’s opponent, the game was won long before the final moves were played. His opponent had even given herself a handicap, and told him what moves she’d make—so his only challenge was to play to the best of his ability, and there he had no doubts. Luna was his only variable; otherwise, it was a done deal. It was difficult to lose a game when his ‘opponent’ was on his side—yet that was no excuse for poor planning. He knew of several noble unicorn houses that had discovered the hard way that what they had believed was a sure thing had been anything but.
He nudged open the doors of the hospital and boldly stepped up to the counter. Breaking into his most winning smile, he regarded the mare at the desk. “I’m looking for Lyra Heartstrtings. Would you happen to know where she is?”
“192 or 232,” the nurse replied. “I should just write a sign for as many ponies who are asking.”
“Thank you.” Fancy Pants flashed a smile at the nurse. She didn’t look impressed.
The room numbers told him that they were on the second floor, but he wasn’t familiar with the hospital’s layout. He looked towards the stairwell; the nurse helpfully pointed a hoof in the general direction. With a polite head-nod, he turned to the staircase.
• • •
He found the room the nurse had indicated without much difficulty—the two guards flanking the door gave it away. One of them gave him a polite nod before he stuck his muzzle into the room.
The creature—he could think of no better way to describe it—was crouched in the center of the room. He was draped in a bedsheet and wrapped in bandages; Fancy Pants had to suppress a snort of laughter. It looked like an ill-prepared foal’s Nightmare Night costume.
Lyra was standing next to it; judging by their posture he had caught them mid-conversation. Her eyes widened, and the creature turned to look at him. A brief thrill of fright overtook him, and he took a step backwards before moving into the room cautiously. How did she handle being alone with it on a beach? “Miss Heartstrings?”
“Yes?” Her glance was as guarded as the creature’s, and her voice was strange. Deeper than a stallion’s, even—it came out like a dragon’s bassoon rumble.
“Might I have a minute of your time? In the hallway, if you please?”
She nodded, and spoke some words to the creature before moving towards him. He noticed a faint glow on her throat which dissipated as she stepped into the hallway.
Lyra regarded Fancy Pants warily. Her gaze kept shifting off him and back to the hospital room, as if she were expecting some kind of trick. “As a member of the Nobles’ Council, it gives me great pleasure to announce that by majority vote, the Council has decided to appoint you to a six-year term as ambassador to . . . uh, the creature’s unknown government.” The telegram unfortunately was of little help, but he could improvise the rest. “A formal ceremony will be held as soon as the embassy is opened. You should think about who you wish to appoint for your staff. Personally, I suggest at least one pony who’s on the Council. It helps to get things done in Canterlot.” He waved his hoof dismissively. “There’s a lot more formal stuff, but that can be dealt with later, if you accept the post.”
She nodded.
“Let me be the first to congratulate you, Ambassador Heartstrings,” he said, extending a hoof. “If there is anything I can do for you, I’ll be more than happy to assist. On behalf of the Council, we all wish you the best.”
She glanced down at the telegram again, a small smile playing across her face. He watched as she read it again.
A faint click at the end of the hallway drew his attention. The guard pony Fleur had been distracting on the train had finally made his appearance. He slowly walked down the hall, frequently checking the paper that floated just in front of him. Fancy Pants couldn’t blame him; when he was younger he’d done the same.
When the stallion reached the pair, he looked at Fancy Pants uncertainly before reading the charge sheet. “Lyra Heartstrings, auxiliary guard of the Ponyville detachment, you are hereby accused by Captain Shining Armor for negligently injuring two non-Equestrian citizens during peacetime and forcibly bringing said aliens to Ponyville against their consent and against orders. Due to the severity of the charges, you shall be taken into custody in chains to the nearest barracks—which is Canterlot—and there you shall remain until the time of your trial, which is to be within one week's time.
He spoke quietly, which was a blessing—but the look on Lyra’s face, so different from her earlier elation—wounded him, and he stopped the stallion before he could finish.
“Miss Heartstrings,” he informed the stallion, “is an ambassador, and should be treated as such. She cannot be taken into custody until after a court has found her guilty of the charges being laid at her hooves.”
The stallion backed up a step. He hadn’t been prepared for this.
“As a member of the Nobles’ Council, it is my duty to defend her, unless she refuses my assistance.” He advanced on the hapless stallion. He took no satisfaction from the act; it was just another move in the game which was still unfolding. “I pledge my lands as a surety of her appearance.” The familiar words rolled off his tongue. “Grant us the complaint, then begone. Your duty is done.”
The stallion nodded and wordlessly passed the scroll to Fancy Pants. Without another word, he marched back down the hallway.
Dale glanced out in the hallway at the new group of ponies that were milling around the door. They were all wearing half-suits, which was a worrisome development. His observation of pony clothing thus far had revealed that they had not invented pants, but did sometimes cover the front part of their body. While he couldn’t imagine the cultural history which had led to covering what—for him—was the upper part of the body, while leaving the genitals exposed, they were dressed exactly like he would have expected pony FBI or CIA to dress. That Twilight personally had responded suggested how serious it might be: Lyra had been the one to take change until Twilight appeared, which clearly indicated Twilight’s rank.
The only good news was that her conversation with the new ponies seemed to be going in her favor. In a way, he was glad of the fiasco with the winged green pony earlier, because it gave him an opportunity to hear different intonations in speech—a valuable asset. He listened as the group marched down the hallway.
He stood up and checked on the girl. She was moving around a little bit, which he figured was probably a good sign. Of course, it meant that he would have to come up with something to tell her, and that was problematic.
Dale gently placed her dog tags back around her neck. Hopefully that small bit of familiarity would help. I could tell her I’m a doctor, but she wouldn’t fall for that. Not unless I can scrounge up some convincing scrubs in short order. They probably don’t know what scrub pants are, so that’s out. I could blindfold her, and tell her she’s got a problem with her eyes. She’ll still hear the doctors and nurses, but maybe if I tell her it’s an effect of the drugs, she’ll relax a bit.
He was considering what he might use for a blindfold when the folly of his plan struck him. The only thing worse than waking up in a hospital bed in a strange foreign land would be if you were also blind. And, if she took off the blindfold despite his suggestion, she’d see her vision was fine, and he’d lose any credibility he might have.
On the other hand, if he told her the truth, his credibility would be suspect, too. Of course, he didn’t know exactly what the truth was. He could ask Lyra . . . but how long would it take to explain?
He looked back to the door as stallion stuck his nose into the room. This one had a very fancy-looking suit jacket, light-colored waves in his blue mane, and—inexplicably—a thin blue moustache. With that much attention paid to his grooming, he was either very important, or very gay. Judging from Lyra’s surprised expression when he spoke, it was likely the former. She said something to him, and he frowned.
“Lyra speak there.” She pointed into the hall. “Dale wait here.” Then she stepped out of the room. A moment later, she began speaking in a higher register—Dale had gotten so accustomed to her lowered voice, he’d forgotten she didn’t normally speak like that, but of course it would seem odd to others. Twilight had reacted the same way, he recalled.
The girl gave a soft moan and stretched out her arms. Dale stood up and moved over towards her bed. I’ll have to tell her the truth, he thought. Even though I don’t know for sure what it is. She wouldn’t believe him, of course. Why should she? If he’d been in her position, he’d be just as skeptical.
What would she do next? She’d probably assume he’d somehow gotten out of the psych ward and call for a nurse. At that point, things would get interesting. He didn’t even know their word for nurse, but they’d probably send one anyway, just because she was up.
I need to get my hands on some paper. I think we’re going to be drawing messages back and forth for a little while yet. He smiled, imagining himself sitting at a desk in a fancy office, wearing his makeshift toga and passing drawings back and forth.
At that point, all bets were off. She might attack him again, and then Lyra would have to restrain her until the sedatives kicked in. She might comply, assuming she was hallucinating. She might even try to pull her bandages off; he’d have to figure out a way to prevent that. It would be safer for everyone involved if she were restrained—but the ponies hadn’t seen the need, and might not believe him if he suggested she be tied to her bed. Were they too trusting to try that, or were they just that confident in their ability to stop her if she rampaged? So far, they had every reason to be confident. . . .
If he sat in one of the short chairs, maybe he could pass for a doctor or nurse or intern or something for long enough to get her to listen to him, at least. Ultimately, of course, she wouldn’t have a choice. Nobody else would be able to tell her anything she could understand. Unless, of course, Twilight was prepared for that eventuality with another one of her picture-stories.
Suddenly remembering the magazines for her gun and the bottle of pepper spray tucked in his makeshift pouch, he quickly shoved them into the only hiding place he could think of—under her mattress. The bullets wouldn’t be of much use without the gun, but she could do a lot of damage with the pepper spray. Nobody was in the room to see what he’d done with them—but he’d want to remember to find a better hiding spot for them later.
She shifted around in the bed again and reached up to rub her face with her right hand. Predictably, the bandage collided with her face unexpectedly, and her eyes snapped open, focusing on her right hand before darting around the room. Her gaze paused on the heart monitor before locking on him.
“You’re in a hospital,” Dale began. “You hurt your hand and ribs in an accident.”
“I feel funny,” she slurred. “Like . . . everything’s weird.”
You have no idea. “It’s the medication. That’s normal. Don’t worry about that, Kate, you’ll be fine. The top experts are assigned to your case.” As far as he knew, that was true. Of course, there was a time when expertise was measured in how fast one could amputate a limb in a battlefield hospital. But they’re beyond that, he reminded himself. I think. I hope.
“Are you my nurse? ‘Cause, no offence, you don’t look too good. Were you in the accident, too? What happened? You look kind of familiar.”
“I’m a . . . uh, I’m kind of an assistant. To the nurse. Who’s busy with another patient right now.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“Ok, look—I know this is going to be a lot to take in all at once, but—”
She grimaced and lifted the covers slightly before deciding she was sufficiently clothed to remove them. Before he could stop her, she’d tossed them off and was slowly sitting upright, gingerly pushing off the mattress with her left hand. “Never mind that right now. Where’s the bathroom?”
“Ah . . . well, about that.” Dale glanced down under the bed. The bedpan was still there—but he couldn't imagine telling her she had to use it. And what if she didn’t know how and asked him for advice? Or didn’t believe that she should have to—either way he was doomed. So, parade her past the cluster of ponies in the hall? And then—then what?
Well, there was a school of thought that said it was better to jump right into a cold lake than to lower yourself in slowly.
“Well?” Kate glared at him.
“Down the hall to your left. There’s a . . . uh, drawing of a pony on the door.”
Can't wait until everyone can understand each over , and see their reactions(mostly Twilight's) to Dale's description of our world.
This is starting to get a little confusing. I don't think the pacing has anything to do with it. I think it's just that there's more and more ponies showing up and it's getting a little harder to keep up. The situation makes sense to me of course, the political workings of establishing a new embassy, especially for an alien would be tough to get down. All the tougher because it's a learning process, they have to make it up as they go along due to the fact that they know nothing of humans.
Despite that, it's good to see kate finally wake up and progress being made between dale and the ponies. looking forward to the next chapter. as always.
time for kates freak out part 2!
for a few minutes, I was worried Fancy Pants was up to no good. should never have doubted...
Man, the board is certainly getting complicated, so many pieces in play!
For some reason, the thought of a drugged up Kate trying to pee is highly amusing, especially considering the facilities...
Seems the next word Dale will be teaching (after Danger) will be "private". It will certainly come in handy with Kate...
Keep going! ;)
Interesting chapter.
I must admit my sentiments mirror those of Ivory in thus case (romanticism - bleh).
Two minor typos I spotted:
and
Apart from that, I enjoyed this chapter quite a bit, and look forward to the next one, as always! (Poor Kate.)
Having trouble keeping track of things here and there but on the whole it's as strong as ever. That trouble may simply be due to the time between chapters combined with the amount of information needing to be recalled. That is to say that it's an inevitability, probably. A small inconvenience necessary to keep a working formula working.
:
I don't know why, but that struck me as hilarious.
Typos in Celestia Sleeps In:
2
The alicorn reached a wing across Twilight’s back. “There will be future trips after your return.
-my return.
3
He kept paddling until the canoe gently ran around on the sandy bottom of the southeast end of the island.
-ran aground
Her ears and tail were twitching quickly,.in what was clearly irritation.
",."
4
The only thing we observed which seemed artifice was a long rectangular clearing in the forest.
-artificial ?
5
Hooffalls on the balcony drew her from her reverie. Even with the gentle wind blowing the scent from her, she knew it was Twilight.
-blowing the scent away from her
“You ponies never cease to amaze me,” Celestia replied.
Kind of rude. Maybe: "My ponies..."
6
He also tossed in a calender,
-calendar
"If aliens ever found it, they would know it was us, not those filthy communists who had landed on the moon first, and claimed it as our own."
One colud move a comma to make it clearer:
"If aliens ever found it, they would know it was us, and not those filthy communists, who had landed on the moon first and claimed it as our own."
7
- Spelling: 3x hangar
Jennifer whistled to herself as she shoved the Piper out of its hanger.
Loading finished, Jennifer parked her Explorer, nosing it against the hanger,
Five minutes later, the frustrated pilot pushed her plane back into the hanger.
8
Dale tucked her book away, breathing a sigh of relief as the bearing to the airplane shifted.
- bearing of the airplane
9
- Spelling: 3x calendar
Don’t you write on your calender?”
“First, it’s a planner, not a calender. It’s meant to be written in. Secondly, if it were this carefully crafted, I wouldn’t write in it at all. I would hang this calender
“Because . . . wait, I think I figured it out.” Twilight flipped the book back a few pages. “Princess Celestia told me once that the sun wasn’t solid at all. It was burning liquid, I think she said. Like an oil lamp. So, this is a sun—they’re its sun. This picture shows the layers of it. And next is the moon, of course. Very logically arranged.
- So, this is a sun—this is its sun.
“The only planet I’ve ever seen—besides our own, of course—appears as little more than a black dot, and can only clearly be seen when its sun is behind it.
- when our sun is behind it.
“There’s over a dozen pages of clothing. Let me know what you think.”
-There are
There’s three stars here, in a line, like Orion’s belt.
-There are
“Now, this is similar to classic Pegos architecture. There’s a lot more detail, since this material clearly holds its shape better than clouds. I can name these pieces.
-(as plural is implied this colud be changed to) There are a lot more details
10
he wasn’t totally against the concept—there were any number of small animals which lived around Ponyville that happily subsisted on meat
- there were a number of (?)
What if don’t even know about spellcasting?
+they
11
“This is bad, this is very bad.” Twilight paced around the main room of the library Floating just in front of her face was a crayon-written note.
- library. Floating
Next, probably escape to the Everfree Forest—it might be an obvious haven, but she’d be quite difficult to find there.
- it might *not* be an obvious haven
12
So, he moved over closer to him, and asked him to touch it.
-So, she
13
“There’s ponies in the water!” The alarmed voice of a pegasus carried over the receding spray.
-There are
The shore exploded into a flurry of activity. Medical teams—many of them entirely composed of auxiliary guards—galloped out of the trees and dove off clouds, trailed by their armored brethren.
-dove off the clouds (could also be spelled "dived", or even "dived off of the clouds")
There’s probably a few cans of it down there.
-There are
There’s leftovers in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.
-There are
There’s a few injured, but they’re being taken to the hospital right now.
-There are
The nurse—Tenderheart—frowned. “A half hour? You were one of the first.”
“First?” Lyra looked at her incredulously. “There’s more? What happened?”
-There are more?
“As soon as we get done with gross, If there’s no other problems, I want to get it to X-rays.”
-There are
----
Onto the Pony Planet
1
“There’s lots of plants that can make ponies sick, and of course we know what they look like and smell like, so we don’t eat them by mistake.
-There are
“But there’s just too many hurdles to jump.
-There are
2
“Hmf. There's a lot of forbidden spells in the archives.
-There are
There’s so many things to do there—the Running of the Leaves is coming up, you know.
-There are
4
There’s sight spells; I could cast one on the wall.”
-There are
5
“Then you should be glad I didn’t get us rooms as the Paradise Inn.
-at the Paradise Inn.
Things were getting just a little too hectic . . . she’d have to set up some kind of rule, or else everypony would be crowding into the room.
Maybe: "she’d have to set up some kind of rules"
“There’s some ponies here who want to talk to you.”
-There are
“Lyra Heartstrings, auxiliary guard of the Ponyville detachment, you are hereby accused by Captain Shining Armor for negligently injuring two non-Equestrian citizens during peacetime and forcibly bringing said aliens to Ponyville against their consent and against her orders.
-his orders. (or Celestia's)
What.
*doublechecks dictionary definition*
They have tree squids?!
narwhaler.com/original/uy/p/kill-it-kill-it-with-fire-uYPbxh.jpg
Featherbrain sounds like an intresting professor, because she teaches you, if you are intelligent enough, that leaders can screw up in any way, and that any way includes ways that are totally unexpected and occasionally unexplainable.
A pony on the door?
Unisex, or do you have to go to the doctors office for that?
3553423
Agreed
3554180 Nuuuuuu! Don't do thaaat! They're endangered!
3554035 The size of your comment made me panic! Then I realized you were counting both stories' typos, and I haven't actually showed him my corrections for CSI! Then I only felt half as terrible. At least I can deflect most as being in dialogue. Your thoroughness is to be commended. (Also, might I suggest using [ quote ] boxes to separate typos, for ease of reading?)
3553423>>3554668>>3553708
I've been meaning to make a blog entry which has a list of all the characters in the story; would that help?
I could also do 'previously on Onto the Pony Plante blog entries (or I suppose I could put them at the top of the chapter, although I'm not a fan of that style). They'd be rough--you can tell by the word count I'm not good at summing up or being concise. Do you think that would be worth the effort?
3553599
The problem with the books is that they only show that humans have really good printing. Many of the rest of the objects can't be identified by the ponies, so--since they don't know what they do or what they are or how they're built--they're at a total loss. Naturally, this problem didn't occur to Dale. If you showed Abraham Lincoln a cell phone--even if it worked--he'd have no idea what to make of it. (I assume he'd figure it out eventually)
It's like the scene with the solar system. Dale assumed Lyra would recognize it right away. Not only does she not know what a solar system is (since theirs is geocentric), she doesn't recognize the cutaway of the sun, either--since she doesn't know what a star is made out of.
3553680
I'm glad somebody liked those lines. Since I do a lot of medieval/Renaissance stuff, people ask me if I'd want to live back then. I laugh, and say, "Hell, no."
3553689
Both fixed. My pre-readers can rest easy; both of those were typed an hour before publishing, and they had no chance to admire my mistakes. Thank you!
3556376
Might help a few people. Don't know how many of us look at the blog, though. I've only done so once, myself.
3554035
I'll fix most of these (eventually) Good eye!
artifice was a deliberate word choice.
5
3556451
I know! 367 out of 717 total views in the last chapter. That's actually not bad--nearly 50%. The first chapter of Celestia Sleeps In was 102 out of 5300.
3554240
It's canon!
Here in the hospital, yes. Canterlot--maybe not. Rarity's made reference to the little fillies' room, although that could be a pony euphemism for 'bathroom' in general, or girl's room specifically. More research is needed.
3556564
Oh, I forgot about the outhouse that Pinkie was so desperate to get to. Um, The Last Roundup?
I cant remember if it was in Apaloosa or Dodge. 8(
Still, it makes FIM one of the most intresting childrens animations, as we have bathrooms, toilets, newborns and funerals. Even Star Trek, as far as I can remember, never had anyone require the facilities.?
3556511
In canon Chrysalis sings "could care less", so I wouldn't put any faith in show editors taking grammar seriously.
I would preffer to see "there is 'plural words'" fixed without exceptions.
The planet Twilight mentions is not part of her solar system, so 'its sun' is correct.
- I was thinking that she was talking about local planet - like Mercury.
"bearing to the airplane shifted."
- The part sounded to me like it was Dale that was moving. Like "my bearing to the north pole".
3556581
Pretty sure it was Dodge, since Braeburn wasn't there.
I don't remember a funeral . . . why can't I remember a funeral? There's AJ's implied dead parents, and of course Sombra; am I missing something?
Also, I just happened to watch Equestria Girls, where Twilight goes into the boy's room. Throwaway joke? Sure. Am I going to run with it? You betcha!
3556737
It's always a challenge with fiction. I'm sure you noticed that Cortez's dialogue has a few grammatical errors. Technically, their flanks aren't where their cutie marks are, but Cheerilee says it (as well as other ponies, but Cheerilee's the credible one, I feel). Technically, the plural of 'pegaus' isn't 'pegasi' in English, but they use that, too. On the other hand, they haven't used 'canter' to describe a gait, or 'fur' to describe their coats, and I have, so I'm not claiming to be an always-correct know-it-all (and if I do, 3555905 will send me a gif of a creepy lute-playing guy again).
How about this? I do intend to fix a large number of problems with CSI--things that didn't bug me when I wrote it but do now--and I will consider fixing all the improper there's; I will also make an effort to use them sparingly--if at all--in the future, and I will never use them outside of a quotation.
I guess I can see how it would. I just used it without thinking, since it's exactly the way my grandfather (Coast Guard Auxiliary navigation instructor for 30 years) would have said it.
3556910
Ack, I thought Sweetie Belle(?) went past a very old pony giving a eulogy at a funeral is one episode, Show Stoppers?
Oh, and heres something to consdier, if you want to really start machine learning from first principles on new languages and such, you have to use similar algorithms to data compression, which people keep patenting.
Look up Lempel Zif compression. Context free, per symbol, linear dictionary creation. That is, you assume the only knowledge you have is that there are seperately definiable symbols.
Gets annoying that advancements in AI are blocked because the good quality algorithms have already been discovered and are being patented and blocked in only for use otherwise.
3557047
overyonderlust.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/head-explode.jpg
I never noticed the coffin by Mr. Wattles. It's from the Perfect Stallion song in Hearts and Hooves Day.
Maybe a more biological process can get around those issues. The last in-depth program I watched about AI was at least fifteen years old; advancements in neuroscience and computer processing since then presumably render much of what I know on the subject hopelessly obsolete. Programs like Cleverbot and Siri seem to be getting around some of the issues, and I've noticed that the targeted ads are getting smarter. They're still pretty easy to spoof, though . . . but so are real people. By my definition, we won't have AI until we have a superstitious computer.
3557167
Biological stuff is ok, if you follow patented technology. Me?.. I started work on optical quantum design ideas back in the 90s.
Think of IBMs pure optical communication chip thats 4 mm on a side, and runs at 100 Terabaud, but as a CPU or rather neural core so we get the idea of hypermassively parralel as standard.
In raw bits per volume, current day Active circuitry of flash memory, the few micron thick stuff, not the mm of expensive dead silicon underneath, greatly exceeds the brain, its just the power requirements of current circutry design would be a couple hundred kilowatts for a brain sized, power computer, which would need careful water boiling through die construction to handle.
But it is currently buildable.
3557198
From what I remember, though, it's not the data storage that's the problem, it's using it in a meaningful way. Even a fairly simple task (like driving a car, which a practiced individual can do without conscious awareness) is doable for a human, yet the first DARPA challenge had no winners. Admittedly, they've learned a lot since then, but the fact still remains that a computer just isn't as good a driver as an average teenager.
Again, though, hardware and programming isn't my specialty. Dropped programming 101 before i failed, and just give my computer to my IT buddy when something goes wrong. It's kind of funny, because if you want to have a discussion about communications networks on an automobile, I can hold my own. Diagnose an intermittent communications failure between the high-speed and low-speed bus with nothing but a list of error codes and a network topography? On it. Want to know how a direct-injection gets the voltage kick it needs from the driver? I know. But the farther it goes from practical knowledge to theoretical, the quicker I get lost.
3557273
Important point of difference between humans and computers. Humans use sparse, intermittant, noisy, lossy, partial analysis.
No wonder trying to get computers to work the same way is so difficult, you cant code them with precise commands at all.
And the greater the bit width of the machine, the exponentially more difficult it becomes.
If your steering is only 1% accurate, and the wheel is wobbling so much at speed, then you need stupid amounts of processing power to deal with the variations, or you can use a flexible coupling and filter the average to where you only need to sample a few times a second, within the capabilities of a PIC.
Relax, let the force flow through you, guide you.
3557309
There was an Asmiov short where the robot screwed up because the instructions were vague. "Pull the lever back firmly. . . ." What's firmly to a robot?
3557328
Snap
The best explanation in this situation is always the weirdest one you can think of! It blows your subject's mind and then you can manipulate them!
"Well, you see, you attacked an alien pony who exploded and beamed us here to a magical fairy land of dragons and unicorns, who had to give you mouth to mouth CPR, which I think is also their mating ritual. So you might have a chest-burster inside you now, but in pony form."
*nods* I would so totally say exactly that.
3557334 Place the lever in the position it was formerly with enough force to guarantee that it remains in place, but use at least 20% less force than required to do any damage to the lever.
3557581
Ask central database for activation force and angular displacement for the lever switch of this design, then implement transition from current stable state to alternate stable state.
Hopefully thats accurate enough, otherwse its specifying centroids, radii, PID polynomial etc.
3557581>>3557597
A torque specification would do nicely, too. "Pull the lever back with 30Nm of force."
I hate torque specs. Some of them are all right; others seem to have been written by monkeys. I get "tighten hub nut to 180 foot-pounds." A range is sometimes questionable ("tighten hub nut to 140-220 foot-pounds"), and BMW takes the cake ("tighten the hub nut to 143 foot-pounds, then turn an additional 67 degrees").
3556376
I don't think it's worth writing a blog listing the characters or doing a "previously." If I'm so lost I need a recap, I'll go back and reread older chapters. If most of your OC's are only going to be around for just a few chapters then yeah don't bother. But if you were planning on writing story a that's going to be very long and have lots of recurring OC's doing all sorts of things then yes please do a list on a blog but short of that I doubt there's a big need for it.
3557631 Apply 214 kJ of energy in the form of thermal kinetic isolinear variant forces tangentially interspersed between quintile appendages and palmar surface to oculo-oral orifice-containing cranial structure.
*Alondro bitch-slaps someone hard*
(Now we must make ridiculously over-complicated terminology for all modern slang.)
3557715
I've already got a dramaturge (list of characters) so that I don't forget; it wouldn't be any real effort to export that, at least.
As for the summary of chapters . . . obviously, published series don't do it . . . but it's also assumed that you'll read each book as a whole, rather than chapter-by-chapter with a two-week break between each. If this were traditional, published fiction, I'd tell people who couldn't remember what happened in a previous chapter to pay more attention. In this format, though . . . one of my pre-readers didn't remember that Celestia had mentioned bringing a court-martial against Lyra about 7 chapters back, and he's the one that's so on the ball that he reminds me of detail's i've forgotten in my own story.
The only reason I'd do it as a blog is for the readers who are waiting for the 'complete' tag to read the whole thing in one shot, or those who discover it towards the end and will be annoyed by summaries in each chapter. I read one fic like that (in one sitting), and it annoyed the heck out of me.
3555905
Wait, you have a list of corrections for CSI?
Don't panic, don't panic, ok, yes, panic.
3556414
So you're going with the Equestrian system being a geocentric one, even though it shares a universe and thus physical laws with our Earth?
I'd recommend glossing over that as much as possible in the story. The resulting plot holes are positively massive.
3558536
Not if the Equestrian Sun is either much smaller than a standard star, or magically manipulated in some fashion. Magic lets one cheat in a lot of ways.
3557273
The 'conscious awareness' part is debatable. Driving a car actually requires a lot of focus; just take the Mythbusters episode on it. I mean, if you're driving a straight road in clear conditions with no traffic, yea, it's pretty easy, but all it takes is a small lapse in awareness to lead to a major accident. The good is most other drivers are also actively watching the road, so usually if one of them has the mental slipup, the others autocorrect for it, although of course they're going to be angry you nearly swiped them or caused them to run into you or whatever.
3560576
That's one possible way to solve the problem, yes, or at least fill in some of the larger plotholes. Most writers unfortunately tend to take the claim that Celestia raises the sun, and automatically assume it's true, that it's the same as our sun, etc.
In this story, it'd have to be something like the sun being a lot smaller and closer to the planet than an actual star. After all, the way they found Earth in the first place was by having Trixie look at stars through a telescope and detecting life on them. Given the fact that the telescopes they can build are almost certainly far less capable than our own, Equestria has to be fairly close to Sol, or they wouldn't be able to see it at all.
There is no way a star would be orbiting a planet that close without us noticing. We can detect planets around stars hundreds of lightyears away by looking at the star and detecting the tiny wobble caused by an orbiting planet. A star actually orbiting a planet would resemble that same wobble, but far more pronounced; it would stick out like a sore thumb. We'd have seen it by now.
Of course, a sort of magical surrogate sun also raises more questions. After all, magic needs intelligent lifeforms to cast the spells, life needs sunlight to live, if the sun is magic, where did it come from in the first place?
3560592
It requires a fair bit of attention when there's unexpected stimuli, to be sure--and I'm not suggesting otherwise. There's no doubt that being distracted from the primary task of driving causes a lack of performance, and the more mental resources that are allocated to the non-driving task, the worse the performance gets.
That having been said, the older part of the brain (I think it's the amygdala) can handle basic body tasks without the conscious brain being aware of them. In one famous experiment, a blind man (he had lost functionality of his visual cortex, although his eyes and optic nerves were perfectly normal) was asked to navigate a cluttered hallway, which he did without any difficulty. I expect that it's only capable of performing learned actions, so a novel stimulus would be beyond its ability to respond to. In this gentleman's case, he could walk well enough (he'd had fifty years of practice before his injury); I suspect he could probably have driven a car on a closed course, but I wouldn't imagine he would have any luck at all driving in traffic. It would be an interesting experiment to conduct, though.
3560576>>3560747
As much as I would have liked to take the route that Celestia doesn't really control the sun (it would have made things so much simpler), it's so entrenched in canon, I can't ignore it. Heck, if I just dropped unicorn magic and pegasus flight, this could be a pretty realistic story . . .
I don't believe their sun is the same as ours, though. It's much smaller, and much closer. That's the only plausible way Celestia could exert any control over it at all. Never mind all the other possible problems of control; if their sun is heavier then their earth, she'd be moving the earth, not the sun--assuming that Newton's laws apply to Equestria, of course. To use a simple analogy, I can push a car, but I can't push a car when I'm standing on a skateboard.
She detected the "certain aura that all living things give off." The easiest way to describe how simple it would have been for her to find Earth is to imagine someone with color number synesthesia who can easily spot the pattern in this image:
youramazingbrain.org.uk/images/brainchanges/synesthesia.gif
Unfortunately, if you don't have it, you have to stare at the picture for quite a while to see what the pattern is.
Assuming no mysterious folds in space that work for the Equestrians but not the Earthlings, it's within 60 light years. There's a reason why I chose that distance.
That's debatable. It depends on how bright the star is, and whether or not we'd look for it. Taking my earlier premise that the Equestrian sun is smaller and closer to its planet, it's not as likely to be seen. A little research suggests that there are 14,600 stars within 100 light years (SOURCE), many of which are unknown. THIS HANDY MAP lists the 133 brightest stars within 50 LY of us which are visible to the naked eye, but also states that those are only about 10% of the stars in that space. So, if the Equestrian sun is no brighter than a red dwarf, and it's 50 LY away, we probably wouldn't see it unless we looked right at it, and we might not notice its odd behavior unless we studied it for a while. Our sun, on the other hand, would appear to them as a magnitude 5.8 star (whatever that means), so they could see it with the naked eye. Using an enhanced telescope, Earth would stand out to them.
3560747
Forgot to answer the last part! Oops! Got distracted by shiny pictures.
I don't plan to explore pony creation stories, so for my purposes it doesn't really matter. However, I have brainstormed on this topic during a long-running world-building exchange with Permanent Temporary. We came up with a few theories; here's an excerpt of mine:
As you see, I considered that the 'builders' left the machinery behind for the ponies. By that theory, the most likely explanation was that an early colonization had set up the system, complete with an unstable sun held in place by some kind of generators, which could be controlled by magic (why they settled on such an unstable system is a difficult question; maybe they were in a hurry or lacked resources and that was the best they could do. Maybe they meant to come back and fix it later, but never did). Everything ticked along like clockwork until Discord showed up and screwed up the workings. They took care of Discord, but couldn't fix the damage he'd done, so they had little choice but to handle the sun and moon themselves from then on.
Such a planet could have been colonized before the ponies even became sapient. Perhaps they were a native species, and a malfunction of the machinery (whatever it is) caused them--and many other species--to evolve to a higher level of awareness than they would have otherwise possessed.
Actually, a really cool fic could be based on these premises. Maybe when I get done with the ones I'm working on. . . .
3561035
What if Celestia and Luna don't control the sun and moon; what if they control some magical thing in the atmosphere that controls the amount light that enters the atmosphere. So if they wanted it to be night they could block out light and use that light to make stars and a moon. Sorry if this sounds dumb, i'm writing this a t 3:00 AM.
3560948
I hope you don't mind a long reply, this is gonna be a doozy. I'll leave my comments on the possible nature of the Equestrian sun/system in a separate comment to split thing up a bit.
Is it? All we really know for sure is that the ponies (including Celestia herself) believe she does. Clearly, from Nightmare Moon's eternal night, there's something to that, but there's plenty of wiggle room there.
As long as it's still a star (i.e. big ball of mostly hydrogen undergoing nuclear fusion in the core) I'm afraid the difference would simply not be enough. Even the smallest red dwarves are still 20,000 times heavier than the Earth, and Equestria has to be in the same ballpark, or the difference in gravity would have been abundantly clear to Dale the minute he woke up.
The actual distance was given in CSI? I must have forgotten that, but yes, that's in the general ballpark I was thinking of.
I'll leave out the difficulties of a red dwarf for a sun until the next part, and concentrate on the issue of detection here.
It true that red dwarves are too dim to be viewed with the naked eye from Earth. However, the reason I brought up the distance in the first place, is that in interstellar terms, 50 lightyears is nothing. At that piddling range, a modern telescope would see the thing clear as day. As for looking directly at it... that pretty much what astronomers do - look directly at the night sky, bit by bit, looking for interesting stuff.
As for detecting its odd behaviour, the thing is that there are several search efforts underway right this moment, looking specifically for stellar behaviour very much like this. I already mentioned the search for exoplanets using the radial velocity method. Another is the programs that look for black holes close to Earth - because black holes cannot be detected directly, they look the effects of its gravity, like stars and other stellar matter spinning rapidly around something which cannot be seen.
And those efforts don't use armies of astronomers to look through telescopes constantly - they use powerful computers to compare images of the same spots taken at different times to find those minute differences that indicate the presence of whatever they're looking for. An anomaly this severe in a star this close, no matter how dim, would have burned through the filters pretty quickly.
Of course, it's possible they have noticed it. Unless Dale happens to follow science news, he probably wouldn't know.