Paperwork

by Math Spook

Chapter 1

The lemon chiffon–colored filly was only barely tall enough to see onto Twilight Sparkle’s desk. Twilight asked, “Tell me your name again?”

“Twitht.”

“Twitht?” Twilight pursed her lips. “Can you spell that for me?”

“Like it thoundth. Twitht. T–W–I–Eth–T.”

“Oh! Twist! Sorry about that.” Twilight wrote Twist’s name on a form and pushed the form across the desk. “Can you fill this out for me, Twist? And I’ll make you a library card.”

Twilight Sparkle had only arrived in Ponyville last week, but her routine as public librarian was already familiar. She withdrew a blank library card from her desk, sketched Twist’s name in pencil, measured the length of the name and the spaces on either side of it with her ruler, and shook her head. She erased it, sketched, and measured again. It was still unsatisfactory. Her third try, however, was adequate. Satisfied, she dipped her quill in the ink pot and wrote, with measured cursive strokes, Twist’s name. She checked her work with her ruler. It was perfectly centered.

As Twilight took out a blank patron circulation record form, she realized that Twist was staring at her library card application form without touching it. She asked, “Is there something wrong?”

Twist continued staring at the form. “Thith... thith... Thith ith a long form.”

By the standards of library card application forms, Twist was surely correct. By Twilight Sparkle’s, she was not. Twilight Sparkle thought of forms the same way foals thought of toys. Each form had its own unique charms. Some were passing fancies that she filled out once or twice but had no desire to revisit. Others were gifts from ponies who didn’t understand her tastes but which she completed out of obligation, so as not to seem ungrateful. But favorite forms she came back to over and over. She had filled some out dozens if not hundreds of times, and each time had been a fresh experience. Even when she experimented with other forms for a few weeks, her favorites never lost their charm. When her mood was right, she could fill them out several times a day. Each time, she told them her most private secrets the way a foal talks to a trusted stuffed animal.

In a peppy voice, Twilight said, “Go on, it’ll be lots of fun!”

Twist sighed. “I jutht wanted to read graphic novelth. But okay.”

Twist eventually left the library happy, carrying a stack of imported graphic novels and forgetting the agony of filling out Twilight’s form, with its extensive sections on demographic information, reading habits, and book preferences. Twilight returned to contemplating the library’s shelves. When Twilight had started working at Golden Oak Library last week, the shelves had seemed sparse, and she had thought that the library must have an unusually large number of books checked out. She had finished examining the circulation records yesterday, however, and they had not supported her hypothesis. She had processed and reshelved all the books that had been returned to the library, including those placed in the drop-off slot last night, and yet the shelves still had a curiously large amount of empty space. Twilight had been busy unpacking, not to mention making friends and saving Equestria, and she had work to do for Celestia, but she couldn’t neglect her duties as town librarian any longer.

She retrieved her tape measure from moving box #29, right where her notes said it would be, and went from shelf to shelf, making notes on the lengths of the shelves and their empty spaces. In the end, she was right. Golden Oak Library’s shelves were 34.19% empty. It was unacceptable.

Anger flared in Twilight’s mind. The Canterlot Library Association’s Guide to Library Stacks and Shelving advised lending libraries to target 20% to 25% empty space. And her library was at 34.19%! Was it incompetence? Gross negligence? Ponies who treated their library this way were psychopaths capable of any crime, from the high treason of Nightmare Moon to sorting books by author’s first name instead of author’s last name.

Twilight’s anger subsided, and she reflected that it was probably nothing so dramatic. Ponyville hadn’t had a full-time librarian in years, and volunteer labor could only do so much. Now that Twilight was here, she could take proper care of the library.

After the library closed that afternoon, Twilight went straight to the town hall. To her surprise, not only was Mayor Mare still in her office, she invited Twilight in immediately. “Without an appointment?” Twilight asked.

“We’ll just add it to my schedule right now,” said Mayor, seating herself behind her desk and jotting down the time in a notebook. “What can I help you with?”

Twilight explained the deplorable state of the library. As she took out from her saddlebag her empty space calculations, she said, “I made this earlier, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring it so that you could see for yourself. Sorry if it’s too much.”

“Oh, don’t apologize! I’m quite methodical myself.” She examined the sheet in front of her and nodded. “Very meticulous. I like it.” She trotted to a row of filing cabinets lining her wall and opened a drawer. “You’ll need these forms. Here’s a budget amendment request form. And the budget amendment request justification form that goes with it. After I approve them—”

“You’ll approve them?”

“Maybe after two or three revisions, because I’m particular about these things, but yes. So”—she closed the file drawer and opened another—“you’ll need a competitive bid proposal form.”

“Oh, not this time. I need a sole source justification form.”

Mayor raised an eyebrow. “You say you’ve only been a government employee for a week? I’m impressed. Or is this something you learned from Princess Celestia?”

“From Raven Inkwell. But I’ve also been reading the Equestrian Civil Service Code on my own.”

“Really? Most ponies won’t touch it.”

“I figured I should. You know, being in the civil service now.”

Mayor cracked a smile. “Be still, my beating heart. Anyway, you’re welcome to fill them out here if you like. I know it’s not much, but you can use that end table over there.”

“I couldn’t stay in your office and distract you like that.”

Mayor waved a hoof. “It’s just fine. Be my guest.”

As Twilight settled into the corner of the room and began filling out forms on the end table, Mayor returned to the stack of paper in front of her. On top of her desk was the weather department’s proposed schedule for the coming month. She shook her head. Paperwork from the weather department was consistently terrible, almost like they spent all day sleeping on clouds. This was their fourth revision, and it usually took them six or seven tries every month before Mayor was satisfied. She took out her red ink bottle. If she let something this sloppy through, she had no doubt that the ensuing chaos would make the city government collapse.

Mayor was incapable of disorganization. On the rare occasions when other ponies had seen her private schedule, they had observed forty-five seconds set aside for “Fluff mane” and ten seconds for “Straighten collar.” Mayor kept a prioritized master to-do list, each of whose projects were themselves composed of checklists, and everything she did was on checklists. The last time the town hall had had a fire drill, Mayor had been seen with a checklist, stopping frequently and muttering, “Exit office. Check. Proceed to east stairwell. Check. Descend flight of stairs. Check. Exit through fire door. Check.”

As Twilight Sparkle’s quill scratched away in the corner of the room, there was a knock on the door. “Good evening, Mayor!” said Derpy. “I saw you were still here so I thought I’d bring this straight to you.” She held out a letter.

“Thank you, Derpy.” She wrote on her checklist, "Read letter," sliced through the envelope with a letter opener and examined the letter inside. She gave a sharp laugh which made Twilight look up. “You deserve to read this,” said Mayor. “It’s really about you.”

The letter was from the Equestrian City Government Association. Twilight read, “‘We are pleased to inform you that we have chosen you to receive a Special Award for Outstanding Leadership During a Supernatural Crisis for your leadership of Ponyville in the aftermath of Nightmare Moon’s reappearance.’ What is this?”

“You could call them a professional society for local government officials. They’re always trying to make local government look good, and they think they have an opportunity. They’re not doing this for me.”

“Are you going to refuse the award?”

“I know them, and I know they’ll just get pushy. And they want to do this before everypony forgets about Nightmare Moon, so if I try to stall, they’ll turn obnoxious. It’s easier to give a little speech and let them put out a press release about how great local leadership is. At least I get a nice dinner.” Mayor made a wry smile. “I can try telling them that I had nothing to do with this, that it was all you and your friends, but it won’t change anything. So how about this? I’ll put you and your friends on the guest list, and you can get a nice dinner, too.”

“We really couldn’t—”

“Nonsense. Ponies try to give me things for the wrong reasons all the time, and I know the rules very well. I assure you this is fine. At least, if you can sit through a few boring speeches.”

Twilight had only been in town for a week, but Mayor had a good feeling about her. Maybe the second draft of her forms would be acceptable. The sight of her working on the forms reminded Mayor of her own time as a young civil servant. She had spent so much time preparing forms, checking boxes and filling in bubbles and writing justifications. It had been a fun time. One month, she was told that she had singlehoofedly generated more paperwork than the entire rest of the city government. She had been so proud.

When Twilight had finished the library budget forms, she asked, “Can I just give these to you? Or do I need to send them through interdepartmental mail to create a record of their transmission and receipt?”

“I’ll take them. I’ll send them back when I’ve made corrections.”

“Corrections?” Twilight yelped. “Why would they need corrections?”

“Don’t look so scared. Nopony gets all the details right the first time, I’m afraid.”

Twilight’s face fell. “I guess maybe not. But I promise I tried. I guess now wouldn’t be a good time to ask a favor?”

“A favor? Twilight, I’m always glad to help. That’s why I’m here, after all. Most ponies don’t understand. They just complain about the paperwork,” she said wistfully. “But anyway! What do you need?”

Twilight took some sheets of paper out of her saddlebag. “Princess Celestia asked me to write friendship reports. And in order for my report to be complete, I wanted to document all my interactions with my new neighbors. So I prepared some forms which I was hoping you could fill out.”

“Hoofmade forms?” Mayor squealed. “Forgive my excitement, but I haven’t seen anyone make their own forms since—since—why, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that but me!” She studied the forms in front of her. Without even taking out her T-square, she could tell that the crisp lines were exactly perpendicular to the edge of the paper. The lettering was careful and measured. Fourteen point, she estimated, and done with a quill, no less. That must have taken some effort. She glanced up at Twilight and said, “Will you excuse me for a moment?” She took a ruler from her desk drawer and measured the letters. They were precisely fourteen points high.

“I thought about trying to do twelve-point lettering,” Twilight said, “but after my first draft I realized that it would look more inviting with larger letters.”

“Impressive,” Mayor said. She felt a little embarrassed for doubting Twilight. “You know, since you were so kind as to fill out my forms right away, how about I fill out yours while you wait?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you too much—”

“Nonsense.” She pointed at the clock on the wall. “I gave you a thirty-minute appointment, and you’ve only been here twenty-two minutes. Make yourself at home and let me indulge myself. Look over my reply to the Association if you like.”

The only line in Mayor’s reply that stood out to Twilight was, “Please include on the guest list the others who played a major role in this event, my partners Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Spike.” She looked around Mayor’s office. Her eyes skipped over the handsome wood paneling and potted plants and settled instead on the rows of filing cabinets that Mayor had taken forms from. Their enameled steel gave that side of the room a sense of weight and importance. The forms she had filled out had come from drawers with the neat cursive labels, “Blank forms, A–M,” and “Blank Forms, N–Z.” There were drawers labeled by city departments and year, drawers for correspondence with the royal government, and even a drawer labeled, “Natural and Supernatural Disasters.”

But Twilight’s attention kept returning to the gleeful Mayor. Behind her bifocals, which were balanced on her muzzle with perfect symmetry, was a look of youthful glee. Her silver mane snapped back and forth as she thrust her quill around the paper. Twilight found her energy compelling, even alluring.

When Mayor happened to look up, they caught sight of each others’ eyes. Mayor blushed. “I’m sorry. I’m getting rather caught up in it, aren’t I? I spend most of my days reviewing other ponies’ shoddy work. I haven’t had any good paperwork to fill out myself in ages. It’s been so humdrum and straightforward. And this has flair! Good forms really are art, don’t you think?”

“Oh, well, if you say so,” Twilight said as she fixed her eyes on the sky outside the window. She already regretted her response. It had sounded just as awkward as she felt. And, for some reason she couldn’t identify, she didn’t want Mayor to see her as awkward. She wanted to look suave and confident.

Her eyes crept back to Mayor, to how her parchment-colored skin set off her starched white collar and the entrancing way the ruffles on her jabot bounced as she moved. She liked it. She could have watched Mayor filling out forms for hours. It made her realize why she wanted to look suave and confident: Mayor was beautiful.

Comments

[DarkSnowGaming]

Well this already is an interesting story.

This is the first romance story I ever came across involving Twilight Sparkle and Mayor Mare and I already like it.

Can't wait to read more.

[hawthornbunny]

Maybe the second draft of her forms would acceptable.

Missing "be"

Oh my gosh, this was adorable! This is peak S1 Twilight. You got her social inexperience and intellectual superiority down perfectly, and I love the characterization for the Mayor too - she has Twilight's fastidiousness, but - as expected of a politician - also knows how and when to game the system. The civil service is often unsung in fiction, so I'm glad to see it given a chance to shine here :)

[Mockingbirb]

Those last three paragraphs are some nice crush self-realization.

[Math Spook]

11913141
Thank you for catching that missing word! Fixed now.

[Thyrrnatf]

Really good start, looking forward to more chapters 🥰