The Ship of State

by marciko322

13. Growing Pains III – The Art of Logistics

We can’t go on like this. Something has to be done.

Yesterday’s talk with Sturdy Construct had served to light a fire under my arse. The news that our crops were acting up was an unwelcome kick in the nuts for sure, but really it was just the crap-cherry on top of the whole sordid affair I’d found myself in charge of. Hunger, overcrowding, overworking, that was all stuff I’d accepted as necessary, but the notion that all of it might well have ended up mattering dick-all anyway was just too much to stomach. Bad luck was all well and good – hell, I was practically born with it – but this was bullshit.

That morning, for once, I had the pleasure of waking up before Lyra did. She preferred the side closer to the wall, so I could get out of bed without disturbing her too much. I got dressed quickly, shook out as much of my residual sleepiness as I could, and walked into the kitchen, where I autopiloted the process of my morning routine.

This day, exactly one week since my arrival to a more crowded Free State than I had expected, I was going to dedicate to a more administrative workload than I had allowed myself over the last seven days – by which I meant I was going to have a nice, long conversation with Construct and Blueblood about making sure my state survived the coming months. It was the closest thing to a vacation I could reasonably allow myself, given the circumstances.

First, though, my morning routine.

Wish and Bowmound, the two orphans Lyra had all but adopted, were still dozing on the couch, their new de-facto bed. I shook my head at the sight, a wistful smile on my face, as I went through the motions of getting my hands on that sweet black gold of the morning. It appeared I’d woken up a little earlier than I usually did, judging by the much more subdued hues of the dawning sun, not even having fully cleared the horizon yet.

These moments of peace were growing increasingly rare, I mused. With how busy I’d been over the last few weeks, I could barely recall a stretch of half an hour I’d gotten to spend as I pleased. It felt like all I got to myself was these few moments before I started the day, watching Celestia’s sun crest the forest canopy while sipping at coffee almost as bitter as I was.

Suppose I can call myself a father now, came a thought that made me chuckle. Two kids sleeping in the same house as me… close enough, right? As soon as it came, I dismissed the notion. Raising two children was tough enough as it was, let alone juggling them with running a country, on top of my new daily manual labour extravaganza. If Lyra hadn’t volunteered to take care of them for me, I don’t know what I would have done. Probably given them over to Construct, or failing that Celestia. With how things were now, there was no chance in hell I could take care of them properly. (They were sleeping on a couch in the living room, for fuck’s sake.)

Anyway. Back on track. Speaking of Construct… food was, as ever, the first priority. We needed more, simple as that. Four thousand bits for seven hundred people, over fourteen weeks, was… less than realistic. If that was all we were going to be able to get, it was more than likely we’d all have to try out a little death-camp diet. That was why I was particularly eager to get a report from the foraging parties Construct had set up. Most of what I had found in the woods, back before the Free State, were herbs… but hopefully that was only because I went in them looking for only those herbs.

Equestria was, as always, a backup plan. Celestia’s bleeding heart was famous across Equus, after all, especially concerning ‘her little ponies,’ as she called them. Strange, how when I say it, it comes across as intimidating… Maybe I could convince her to send us some of those cakes she liked to eat so fucking often. Honestly, whoever was in charge of the palace’s bakery, they could not possibly have been getting paid enough. It might relieve some of the strain of rationing, if everything else went to plan.

Ugh. I grimaced. More fucking handouts… wait, unless…? A deeply unpleasant proposition had made itself known to me. Celestia, after all, was a consummate statesman. (Or statespony, or -mare, or whatever the fuck.) Perhaps this was all just a ploy to increase the prestige of the Crown, by way of discrediting newcomers like me, having me resort to Equestrian aid to keep us afloat?

I rubbed at my eyes, jostling my glasses about. Whatever. I can ponder whatever the hell I want later. Move your arse, Inns. I drained the last of my coffee – by now, cold and awful – set the mug down somewhere it was probably supposed to go, and checked into my study to grab some stationery. It never hurt to make some notes, after all. Not to mention I was gonna have to get in the habit of recording bureaucratic business for future reference – might as well get into the habit sooner rather than later.

When I went to leave the room, though… “Boo!”

Apparently, the two kiddos weren’t as asleep as I had assumed them to be, and were merely waiting for an opportunity to scare one of the two adults in the house, leaping up to my face with a goggle-eyed expression. Well, that, or I’d stayed in the kitchen drinking coffee for longer than I thought I did – which was entirely too plausible, since it was true. Probably both were true, come to think of it. Regardless, I was not too deeply moved to a response. “Good morning, Bowmound. Morning, Wish.”

“Aww!” went Wish. “Why weren’t you scared? We totally scared you!” Bowmound shared the filly’s disappointment, visibly and audibly, groaning in dismay. I could only chuckle.

“Sure you did, Wish. Sure you did.” I glanced at the couch, which was predictably messy. A pillow had landed on the floor – the colt’s, I thought. “Why don’tcha make your beds, kiddos, and then get some breakfast, yeah?”

The foals chorused their (admittedly reluctant) agreement, running over to the couch as I walked out to the hallway – where Lyra was waiting for me. A warm smile split her face as she spotted me.

“Good morning, Adam,” she said, nodding back to the kitchen. “Breakfast?”

“I’m afraid I’ll pass for now,” I declined, immediately dampening her mood. “I already had coffee, and I need to move. Keep the kiddos out of trouble, yeah? If anything comes up, I’ll be with Construct.”

“Okay, Adam,” she said, as I was already spinning around to leave the house. “Take care.”

I took care to shut the door behind me. Outside was a typical summer morning; the sun still snoozing low in the sky, not a cloud in sight, a pleasant breeze that helped keep the heat away. It was surprisingly busy outside already, ponies already making their ways over to where they needed to be the most – although they thought that was still the field.

I shook my head and picked up the pace to the dining hall. Not any more, lads.

As I walked, though, I began noticing a new sort of deference being shown to me by the ponies. More than a few deigned to full-on bow down to me as I passed them in the street, as opposed to simple waves or nods. I went out of my way to not notice as many of them as possible, in the hope that they’d stop. I’d done precisely bugger-all yet to earn that kind of thing, and the sight of it filled me with a very unpleasant kind of… ‘uncomfortable satisfaction’ was the best phrase I could think of to describe it. Either way, not too nice.

Finally, the dining hall. A few ponies were busy shovelling their miserable rations down their mouths. These ones didn’t give me more than quick looks. That didn’t make me feel very good, either. I spotted Construct behind the counter on the far side of the hall, standing in the doorway to the back room with her rear facing my way. Wew. That sure is a nice looking-

…ahem. Tail.

She turned around, immediately locking onto my gaze. I waved her over, at which she trotted briskly over. “First Minister,” she greeted.

“Good morning, Construct,” I greeted back, nodding at her. “I was hoping to speak with you today regarding our next steps.”

“Of course,” she said. “What did you wish to discuss?”

“First off, do you know where the good Ambassador is?”

Her muzzle scrunched. “I, ah, I believe he departed for Canterlot last night. He declined to give a reason why.”

I grimaced. “Of course he did. Probably off to invest in a cockfighting ring, that fuckwit.” I inhaled, ignoring Construct’s reproachful stare. “Fine. We’ll just have to puzzle it out ourselves. Come on,” I said, turning on my heel and walking back out, beckoning her to come with.

We walked out of the hall, Construct not bothering to close the doors behind her. “Puzzle out what ourselves, First Minister?”

“Food,” I said. “What else? Well, actually, one or two other things, but food’s the important one of course. Otherwise you lot might well have to try eating grass.”

I didn’t look back to see how that suggestion went over with the pony behind me, but I suspected it wasn’t anything pleasant. I opened the door to my house and all but stormed in, to Lyra’s surprise. I waved her off and continued to my study. Construct joined me after a short wait, shutting the door behind her.

“Yes, First Minister?”

“First things first,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Foraging. How much food are we getting from it, roundabout? Enough for a few dozen at least?”

Construct frowned in confusion. “Foraging?” At my nod, she continued much more reluctantly. “We… haven’t set up any foraging parties yet.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We haven’t set any up yet,” she repeated. “You gave us orders to prioritise agriculture above all else, not to begin foraging.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I slammed my palm onto my face, groaning in disbelief. “Great. That’s just great.” My hand slid off my face to reveal a very displeased expression, partially hidden by the grease left on my glasses from my clammy digits. “Well, guess what, Construct? You got ‘em now. Fucking hell, all my massive brains and something as simple as that slips past ‘em…”

“Yes, First Minister,” was all Construct said. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” I moaned, still recovering from my own colossal imbecility. (Or was it hers? Shouldn’t she have foreseen us needing that anyway? Do I really have to spell everything I want done out?) “I’ve put it off for too long already. We need to buy as much food as we possibly can.” I moved to ransack my desk, flipping paper about this way and that, searching for my big bag o’ bits, which I knew must have been somewhere here. “Hey… I could’ve sworn… ah, here it is!”

I turned and tossed the bag of gold at her feet. “That should be… I think two thousand, three hundred and sixty-three bits in there.” Construct only stared at it, nonplussed – then at me, equally nonplussed. I rolled my eyes. “You know where the best place is for buying food in bulk?”

“Manehattan,” she returned instantly.

Fuck. I sighed. That was practically on the total other side of Equestria – across half a continent. Manehattan was on the coast of the Celestial Sea, after all, and White Tail Woods was only a few days away from one of the Lunar Bays – the southern one, if I recalled my maps right. “Second best?” I tried.

“That’ll be… Canterlot,” she said, this time taking a moment or two to think it over. Canterlot’s still a little far…

“How about nearby?” I asked. “Las Pegasus? Appleloosa, maybe?”

“Those’re some of the worse ones,” she said. “North-east’s the breadbasket, after all. Las Pegasus has to import to get by, even.”

Of course. Nothing could ever come to me easy, after all. It was all I could to to shake my head, instead of descending into Russian cussing. “Great,” I said. “Just great. Fine then, we might as well get our money’s worth. You’ll be going to Manehattan, then.”

I’d taken Construct by surprise. “Me, sir?” She put a hoof to her chest. “Are you sure?”

“’Fraid so,” I replied. “You’re the only one who can do it. I’m still a keystone figure here, and Blueblood’s much less reliable than you, in case you hadn’t noticed yet. Haven’t you got a competent second?”

“Well, yes, but…” She was still indecisive. I had to put my foot down.

“Then they can handle things here,” I said, punctuating it by backhanding my open palm. “You’re the only one I’ve got. Get us as much food as you can.”

“As you wish, First Minister,” she said, reaching down to pick up the sack of cash and place it on her back.

Before she could ask for any other questions I had, though, I continued. “I mean it, Construct. As much as possible. We need as much nutrition as physically possible. For as cheap as possible, I mean. Send it over by train if you have to, if it’ll get to us faster.”

“…Yes, First Minister,” she finally said. “Is there anything else?”

“Foraging.”

Construct blinked. “Yes?”

“You gonna set something up?”

She blinked again. “…Yes?”

I nodded, pleased at my success in conveying information as obliquely as possible. “Excellent. Since working the fields is a no-go until further notice, we might as well pull in as many ponies to foraging as possible. Maybe… let them eat some of what they find themselves? That could be pretty good incentive, as long as they know not to take anything poisonous.”

“Are you sure that will work?” asked Construct, a doubtful grimace on her.

“I think it’ll be better than straight-up banning them from doing so,” I returned. “They’ll probably do that anyway, unless they’re under constant supervision, which we don’t have nearly enough manpower for. Not to mention it’s a good look, not taking food from hungry ponies. We’ll have to put our foot down after a certain amount, though, so other ponies can get fed too. Maybe we can even get some extra in our stocks, at least for a few days.”

Construct nodded, satisfied by my explanation. “I’ll get to it at once, First Minister. Anythi-”

“Yes,” I said, not bothering to wait for her to even finish. “Speaking of the fields. We need to figure out what the problem is, and fast. Definitively, I mean. Any ideas?”

Construct shot me an unkind look for the briefest of seconds before she spoke. “Well, if crops you yourself plant grow fine, then it has to do something with you. You said your icebox enchantment dissipated after you touched its gem?”

“That’s not what I said, no,” I said, deadpan. “That’s only what happened.”

“Right.” Hmm. Perhaps my attitude was beginning to rub her the wrong way? “We suspect what’s happened is that the seeds you’ve touched yourself, the same thing has happened to them. So they don’t have any magic in them, which -” she made a circular motion with her hoof here “- somehow causes them to be able to grow without needing an ambient magic intake.”

“That what your Thaum-a-grow people said in their report?” I asked, smirking.

“Yes, actually,” she replied, wiping the smirk off me in an instant. Wow. She works fast, huh. She got all that done in barely an evening. Heh, a real workhorse. “Word for word, even. Anyway, the theory is that you only need to touch the seeds at some point before they start growing. After that, anypony at all can plant them, care for them, etc. Tilling, planting, caring, harvesting, that can all be done by actual trained farming personnel.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding along. “So, what does that mean for the work we’ve already done?”

“Wasted,” she replied, far too quickly for comfort. “Except for what’s already sprouted, of course. Unless you feel like digging out each individual seed and draining them all, one by one.”

“Yeah.” I winced. “Let’s not do that. We can just… urgh. That’s not gonna go over well at all. We’re gonna have to re-plough, re-plant, re-mound the entire bloody field, aren’t we. That’s not gonna make for very happy ponies.”

“Better than the alternative,” Construct pointed out.

“That’s for sure.” I inhaled, taking a moment to think of anything else I was missing. “Oh, yeah…” I pulled out the parchment and quill I’d stashed in a pocket earlier. “Huh. Why’d I take this with me, if I was just gonna come back here anyway?”

“I’ll take that, if you don’t mind,” said Construct, reaching out a hoof. I dutifully handed her my note-taking equipment, Construct getting to work jotting things down at once. “Thank you,” she said, deftly working the words out past the quill she was biting into. Wow… still as freaky to see as ever.

“Ooh,” I said, snapping my fingers. “One more thing.” I ignored Construct’s eye roll. “Now might be a good time to wrangle up some pegasi to help keep the skies a little neater. Y’know, no nasty thunderstorms, heatwaves, and so on. Emergency stuff, really, for the time being. Maybe they can help with irrigation for the farms, too.”

“Mmhmm.” Construct didn’t even spare a glance, busy as she was writing.

“Okay,” I chuckled. “I think that’ll do it for now. Let me know when you’re ready to roll.” Construct nodded and turned around to walk out, still jotting notes down. Christ, how ponies got around with hooves continued to baffle me. Apparently, the lack of opposable digits wasn’t much of a hurdle to the little horses. Lucky fuckers, I thought. I get thumbs, and they get a horn that lets them warp the very fabric of reality at will. Fuckin’ ponies, man.

Phew. Despite having only talked with Construct for the lesser part of half an hour, I felt like I’d spent half the day working the fields. Must have been the fat lot of nothing I’d eaten this morning. Well, nothing I can’t solve, now. Well, for a slightly stretched definition of ‘solve.’

---

Still being hungry after finishing breakfast was not a very nice feeling at all, in spite of how familiar it was getting. ‘Ubiquitous’ was rapidly becoming an uncomfortably accurate description for the gnawing in my stomach, as I was sure it was for the rest of the ponies now living here.

Unfortunately, there was now quite little for me to do about it. The fields were out of the question for the next little while, until we could get our shit together properly on that front, and foraging for actual, edible food was not something I had much experience in, unless the herbs in the forest had inexplicably septupled in nutritional value while I wasn’t looking – hey, anything’s possible with magic… just, er, not very likely.

I’d suddenly found myself out of things to do. With Blueblood away, I couldn’t get on the horn with Celestia in real-time (not like that), so I couldn’t try to wheedle her into sending some disaster relief aid, or whatever bullshit she’d have to concoct to get the Canterlot idiot brigade moving – and with Construct brought up to speed, busy with her new work, I had no-one to bounce ideas off of, or indeed to ask for anything I could actually help her with. I couldn’t even think of any busywork to make up – a new low indeed for the First Minister.

Might as well take the opportunity to take a breather, I reckoned, paying far too much attention to washing off my already-too-clean plate for my own good. Just until something else comes up.

This time, I heard the clop of hooves behind me before the pony spoke. “Adam?”

“Yes, that is my name, Lyra,” I snarked, still working the plate. “What’s up?”

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said automatically. I wasn’t, but saying it made it feel just a little bit more like the truth.

Lyra saw through it at once, naturally. “Are you sure? You know you can tell me whatever is on your mind, Adam. How are you really feeling?”

“Really,” I said, drolly. The plate was clean enough that I could see my face in it, so I placed it down to dry and turned to my partner, letting the weight of fifty years I hadn’t lived show. My shoulders slumped, my head sagged, I even listed sideways, saved from a fall only by the fact the counter was in the way. “Whatever’s on my mind, huh? Well, let’s see. I’m hungry, I’m tired, seven hundred people who are my responsibility are hungry and tired, I don’t know if we all will even make it another month, and to top it all off, turns out all the work we all did setting up our farm was all for nothing.” Now, I let my head hang fully, staring at my shoes, not even feeling particularly sad, or angry – or anything, really. “No wonder they call it inhospitable here. Sure wish I’d listened to Celestia now, huh.”

Lyra stepped forward, hesitantly, pushing the side of her head up against my midriff. She shut her eyes at the contact, which I instead almost startled at. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words for it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I told her. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know that,” she answered, ever-so-slightly muffled against my clothes. “I meant I’m sorry for you. You have the weight of all your responsibilities on you, and you don’t even realise that you don’t have to shoulder them all by yourself.” She stopped rubbing herself against me, and turned to look up at me, straight into my eyes. “No matter what you may think, you’re not alone in this. I’m with you. Construct is with you. Even Blueblood is with you, whether you believe it or not. Those seven hundred ponies look up to you; they’re with you too.” I could see the hints of tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes. My own were stinging something fierce too, which I had to blink away. “Don’t crush yourself alone, Adam,” she pleaded.

Unbidden, my hand reached down to scratch behind her ears, at which Lyra quickly melted, shutting her eyes and pushing her head against my palm. It was the least I could do. “…Thanks, Lyra,” I said, quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I blinked back yet more tears. Seriously, this mare was bloody psychic or something, with how well she knew what to say. Bet she’d have done well at the Canterer. Might even have given Heartstrings a run for his money, going for EIC.

“Mmm,” Lyra almost purred, knees quivering under her at my ministrations. “And what about the foals?”

I paused, not having expected the change in topic. “Er… huh? Foals?”

“Aren’t you going to adopt them? Officially?”

…

What.

“I’m sorry?”

Lyra finally deigned to open her eyes, and immediately began snickering, seeing me staring at her like a gaping moron. I couldn’t even begin to restart my brain up, totally blind-sided by her question.

“Well,” she said, trying to speak past her amusement. “Since they – hehe – they’re already living in your house, and, and we’re taking care of them, isn’t that the next logical step?”

“Uh, yeah, no,” I said flatly. “Now is quite possibly the worst possible time to do that sort of thing.”

“Well, what else are you going to do?” she asked.

She’s got ya there, Inns. As she said, the two foals were already living in my house, and were more or less my responsibility – although Lyra herself did most of the work of actually caring for them, since I was usually busy with my work. Would it really have been much of a stretch to call them my two foals?

The answer, I decided, was yes. “Not that,” I insisted. “It’s really a terrible idea. I can’t care for two kids properly, certainly not now! And I’d make a pretty piss-poor parent, besides! I mean… what the hell do I know about raising children? Pony children, even?”

Lyra blinked. “What do you know about building a Free State?”

I sighed through my nose, and gave her a flat stare. “…Lyra. I understand what you’re getting at, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but my answer is still no. There’s just nothing-”

“Hey, mister! Mister!”

I blinked, seeing two small blurs of colour rush through the hallway and slam into my legs, practically trying to squeeze the life out of them. “Mister Inns!” exclaimed Silent Wish, cheerful as I’d ever heard her.

“Morning, mister Inns!” shouted Bowmound, clinging to my other leg.

As quickly as they latched on, they detached, leaping backwards with a traditional youthful energy, both of them giving me big grins. “Miss Lyra said you’ll be our new daddy!” the two said, almost in stereo. The filly nodded her head vigorously to punctuate the point.

I turned an unamused stare over to Lyra, who only gave me a faint smile. “…Really, Lyra?”

“You might as well be already,” she pointed out, far too smugly for my liking.

“I believe you missed the part where I want nothing to do with it,” I said.

Wish broke in before Lyra could reply. “Sky Gale told me anypony who says they wanted to be my daddy would be bad.”

I jerked a thumb to her. “See? Even-”

“So that means if you say you don’t want to be my daddy then you would be good!” finished Wish, flashing me a big, goofy smile.

...Oh for fuck’s sake.

I dropped my upraised hand to my side, feeling lost. All three ponies were spearing through me with their hopeful stares. What was I supposed to do against them? How could I possibly convey my distaste at the idea of fucking the whole thing up? Lyra had decided on this on my behalf – and the foals agreed with her. Neither of them knew – or cared – that I was nowhere near ready for that kind of responsibility.

I chose to meet Bowmound’s eyes; he was the only one of the three without a smile on him – which changed the second he realised I was looking at him, when he gave me the second most brilliantly genuine smile I’d ever seen on anyone. This time, though, instead of filling me with determination for a better future, it only highlighted my unease at the prospect.

I dropped my gaze to the floor in defeat. “…I’ll need some time to think about it.” My tepid response took the wind out of all three of the ponies’ sails. Their smiles disappeared; now, consternation was the word of the day. (Even if only one of them knew what it meant.) Lyra stepped back from me, allowing me an escape route to the outdoors that I took immediately, shuffling out of the room with head hung low.

The air of the outdoors did very little to settle my mind. Why couldn’t Lyra see what an awful candidate I was? I mean… really… Sure, the Free State was all well and good, but… seven hundred subjects was an entirely different kind of responsibility than two children. The former was already taking so much of my attention as it was. Could I really afford both at once, without burning out along the way?

I shook my head. Whatever. This is pointless, anyway. Not until this whole starvation business is dealt with. Then… guess we’ll see. It was an old classic of mine: leave the problem for later. I thought I’d grown out of it by now… but I could see no other solution that I could take.

With one final shake of the head, I set off for the dining hall, to talk details with Construct – or at least her second – trying my best to not dwell on my conversation with Lyra. There was still a whole afternoon ahead of me that I could spend working, after all. Hopefully, talking work will distract me from thinking about my interpersonal relationships… heh, I’d rather talk about how we’re all starving than about adoption. Wonder what that says about me?

Comments

[StarzGecko]

Man, he sure is facing a hard challenge without help from Equestria. Also, I totally see him being a good dad maybe he should throw the mom role at Lyra or Celestia to just mess with them

[LordBucket]

I think he needs help. And I think I'd like to see it come from Blueblood.

if Princess Goddess Celestia shows up to rescue her ponies from his incompetence, that undermines his position. It undermines his rule. It undermines not only the trust these ponies have placed in him, it undermines his own faith in himself, and it would mean that going forward he would always feel like "mummy dearest" was watching over his shoulder.

Whereas if unreliable, undependable Blueblood, a pony perpetually surrounded by self-serving nobles, is moved by the genuineness of his efforts...he could very plausibly pull some strings covertly, and for example arrange to have a merchant given a "bad tip" that leads to an oversupply of staple foods showing up where Construct is headed to buy. Instead of needed to be rescued, it could all be arranged as an unlucky merchant unable to sell his goods being fortunate enough to happen upon an unexpected buyer willing to buy his entire stock.

Instead of Adam needing to be saved from his own failure in a way that would forever cast doubt on his future capabilities...it could be presented as "finally a single stroke of good fortune" amidst so many unfortunate circumstances.

Semi-related, I think that Blueblood may have already a learned a lesson that Adam still hasn't. He's the ruler of the land, but he's tilling the fields and starving himself personally. It might sound good on paper to have the people in charge casting their lot in with everybody, but you probably don't want the person making decisions to be exhausted all the time and on the brink of starvation. In your own body the brain consumes more than it's "fair portion" of food and energy consumed. It does more than your left bicep, and from a survival point of view if food can only go to your left arm or your brain...it's probably better for your survival as a whole if your brain gets the food. Peasants and laborers do the work, like your arm...but it's the brain that makes decisions.

Adam doesn't seem like he's in the greatest place right now. He's trying so hard to be fair and not put himself above anybody that he's destroying his ability to make effective decisions through starvation and overwork. Whereas "selfish and overfed" Blueblood is probably able to see what needs to happen.

The question is now, will he do it?

[mommy5260]

11535804
damn... goddamn... i dont like that one bit (the whole letting other people starve so that you can think better) b u t, i cant argue with that logic.

[StarzGecko]

11536481
Yep! He is going to be a father to many little ponies

[msgunner501]

Lyra's little stunt near the end actually upset me a little bit. Adam is currently dealing with a failing nation and the possibility of the population starving to death, so she then decides smack on the completely unnecessary (almost forceful) weight/responsibility of adoption of kids. The fact she just told the kids without even talking to Adam is almost manipulative and deceitful. This very thing (going behind the partners back or emotional manipulation) has led to actual adoptions in real life for couples not fit or even ready/capable of raising kids, much to the detriment of both the kids and parents. Seriously Lyra, what on earth are you thinking!?