Beige Beaker has a fulfilling life, with a loving husband, a darling daughter, and a promising future as a scientist. But then something goes horribly wrong...
Beige Beaker is a chemist with a promising career ahead of her. She's got a loving husband, a beautiful daughter, and a loyal best friend. Yes, life is good, and Beige knows it.
Then there's the 'accident.' It wasn't an accident, Beige knows that, but how else can she explain what happened? Suddenly, life has gotten harder, and it's getting worse. And worse. And worse. None of it makes sense. Bad things don't happen this quickly without explanation.
Is it bad luck... or is it a curse?
Set early in Season 1.
A big thanks to my ever-patient (even when I wasn't) pre-readers and editors: Georg, BlazzingInferno, and Pascoite. You guys are awesome.
Beige Beaker satisfied herself with the little things. The two dozen samples safely ensconced within the chemical freezer, for example. There they would stay, to lie still as their tiny chemical chains slowed their dancing and went to sleep. Tomorrow she’d be back to kick them out of their cellular beds and get them to partying again in ways only amino acids could, but for now? Science had had its fun.
She stepped back and stretched her legs and wings in tandem, encountering another of her simple pleasures: popping joints after a long day hunched over science papers in need of grading and her own chemicals requiring ample study. Today had been a good one; she was sure they’d almost found the right acidic makeup to solidify the matrix at the right hardness. In a few months, they might be able to produce their first usable cloud.
“Those the last ones?”
She turned to the voice. The familiar face of Doctor Whooves smiled at her through his typically unkempt mane. “Should be,” she replied. “You got anymore papers to grade?”
“A few.” He shrugged and waved a dismissive hoof. “I’m thinking on leaving the kids in suspense, make them wait another day. I’m ready to clock out.”
“That makes two of us.” They trotted out the laboratory door, Beige pausing to take one last look at the place. No equipment left out, the surfaces cleaned of any potentially nasty chemicals, everything locked up. Her heart swelled at the sight of a pristine laboratory, as it did every afternoon at around this time.
Little things.
Ponyville’s secondary school was hardly the finest institution in Equestria. At least, not in terms of budgeting. The tiled ceiling was in clear need of replacement and the dents and stains covered the lockers lining the walls. At least the floor was clean, if discolored by decades of applied cleaning solution.
Nor was Ponyville the source of overwhelmingly bright students. Very few of the town’s youth bothered to go to school beyond Cheerilee’s small schoolhouse, and most of those who were ambitious enough to try went to more prestigious places, like Canterlot or Manehattan, to further their education. As such, the Ponyville Institute for Advanced Learning suffered from a lack of students and, as could be expected, a lack of funding from Town Hall.
“Miss Beaker!”
There were always exceptions. Beige felt a warmth in her chest at that familiar voice. She turned to find a young earth pony mare of perhaps sixteen trotting towards her. “Hello, Miss Grain. What can I do for you?”
Sweet Grain scuffed her hoof on the floor and studied the tiles, her cheeks blooming. “Um, I’m sorry, I know I keep asking, but… could I borrow the textbook again?”
“But of course you can.” Beige promptly pulled the requested book from her saddlebag. It had been put in last as always for exactly this occasion. “You know, you could always keep the book until the end of the schoolyear.”
Taking the textbook with gentle hooves, Sweet Grain shook her head. “But what if somepony else needs it? I’m not the only one whose family can’t afford books.”
Beige sighed and glanced around at the empty halls, catching Dr. Whooves’ patient smile. “That might be so, but you’re the only one who ever asks.”
Sweet Grain placed the book in her own bag with no small amount of care, much to Beige’s approval. “You never know when somepony will ask. Maybe they just borrow the books from their friends or do their homework together.”
Considering the grades of Sweet Grain’s classmates compared to her own, Beige seriously doubted that. No sense bursting the studious filly’s bubble, though. “Perhaps you’re right. Well, you have a good weekend, Miss Grain.”
“You too. Thanks again!”
Once the student trotted away, Beige turned back to Dr. Whooves. “That young mare deserves to go to a better school than this.”
He chuckled as they fell in step once more. “And miss the opportunity to work with our elite staff?”
“Yeah, ‘elite,’ that’s it.” Beige shrugged. “We make do with what we can afford, I suppose.”
“Don’t worry about her, B, she’ll be fine. Five years from now she’ll be accepting grants from some big-city cheese.” He bumped her shoulder with his own. “And you’ll have abandoned us to work in more esteemed places.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, then glanced around at the less-than-pristine hallway. “I dunno, Whooves. Will they see a Masters Degree or will they see that I had to get it remotely while working in this dump?”
“Oh, stop it. Your ‘fertilized cloud’ is a work of brilliance, and I am absolutely confident it will shoot you into the limelight.”
Beige felt a fire in her cheeks and averted her gaze. “Well, I’m glad you think so.”
He peered at her with a lone eye. “What’s all this humility I see? You’re as confident and proud of our work as anypony, so stop trying to pretend you’re not excited. This time next year your name will be household knowledge in Cloudsdale, and mine in Manehattan, if I do say so myself.” He took a moment to rub at his chest with a smirk.
Her wing swept up to lightly whack the back of his head. “Careful there. Let your head get too full of hot air and I won’t be in Manehattan to fly you back down.”
They shared a chuckle, him rubbing the back of his head, as they stepped out of the school entrance and into a bright, warm spring day. The sun peeked through the sparse clouds, making Beige wince and shade her eyes with a hoof. She paused and turned to look up at the two-story structure, one of the largest in town.
She couldn’t help but smile. “Y’know, we complain about it a lot, but this place hasn’t been all that bad. Had Headmaster Fantasy not given our research a chance, we may never have gotten off the ground.”
“Don’t forget Mayor Mare,” Doctor Whooves added, turning to look as well. “She’s the one who convinced the town to fund the school in the first place, and that includes our research.”
“Yeah… I guess we owe her one.”
“Make that a lot of ones.”
They stood in the street for a short time, staring at the school building. Beige wondered if she’d still be here in five or ten years, or if her research would finally catch the attention of one of the Royal-League schools out there. She couldn’t deny that getting tenure at a major university would be a dream come true, but… she supposed it wouldn’t be so bad staying where she’d grown up.
Dr. Whooves’ voice interrupted her thoughts. “You think Pipette will go here?”
Taking a moment to shake off her thoughts, Beige gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe. She might not even want to go to college.”
“You could be in another town by the time she’s that age.”
“Perhaps.” Beige turned to him, unable to keep a bit of hope out of her voice. “Hey, how’s that saddle coming along?”
A grin slowly grew on his lips, and she could have sworn there was a spark in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I guarantee it’ll be ready by her birthday. After the adjustments we made last week, it’ll fit you like a glove.”
Beige’s own smile threatened to split her cheeks. She felt something tickling her stomach, and imagined it was a small litter of puppies playing around. Her wings flapped as she danced from hoof to hoof. “I’m gonna take my little filly flying. This is gonna be the best first birthday ever.”
“Well, I do have my moments.” He raised his hoof and she promptly bumped it. “Anything for you, my dear.”
“Oooh, I can’t wait to use it!” Beige hopped once, twice, and was in the air on the third one. She flew a small circle, giggling like a foal. “I can just see it. The look on her face when Mommy takes her into the clouds!” She flipped in the air and hovered over him, kicking her legs in a little midair jig. “Maybe you can make her some wings when she gets older. Oh, yeah, that would be amazing!”
The doctor coughed into his hoof and shook his head, though he still held his smile. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We’ve still got a fertilizing cloud to finish before we start on big projects like giving unicorns wings.”
“Don’t give me that.” She set her hooves to her hips and leaned over him with a smirk. “We both know you can do whatever you set that clever mind to. Why the hay are you working at this dump, anyway?”
His cheeks glowed at her words and he promptly averted his eyes. His ears tucked back as he muttered, “I-I had my reasons, okay?”
“So I’ve heard.” She’d long given up trying to pull that nugget out of his skull, but it never hurt to ask. She glanced at the sky and regained her grin. “I better go, Chip will be expecting me. See you tomorrow?”
“As always.” He waved her off. “Say high to Pipette for me.”
“You got it.” With one last wave, she spun in the air and flapped for home.
Beige flew low, flitting just above the town. A giddiness came over her, and she playfully dropped down to touch rooftops as she passed. It was a game she had enjoyed as a foal, one she’d grown out of long ago. The idea of playing it with Pipette had her giggling like a crazy pony. She ignored the looks the ponies below were shooting her. It was not like they could understand the electricity surging through her just then.
She couldn’t get home fast enough. Just the image of Pipette in her mind had Beige impatient to arrive, so she abandoned her silly game and flew higher. She leveled out a dozen or so feet above the rooftops and peered through the wind. Her home would be just above—
“Whoa!”
The world had split in two! Beige fanned her wings in an effort to slow down as the sky twisted in one direction and the ground in another. Before she even had a chance to make sense of this, she began tipping wildly sideways.
On instinct, she shifted her wings to account for the change, only to find herself going into a barrel roll. Or at least, she thought it was a barrel roll; with two worlds spinning in wildly different directions, she could be flying straight at the ground for all she knew! Panic tore at her mind. Her wings ached from how hard she flapped, but she just couldn’t get her flight path under control!
What was up? What was down? Was that the horizon on her left, or was she supposed to be paying attention what she saw on the right?
She screamed as a building flashed past, so close she felt the breeze of its passing. She could barely make out ponies in the streets, watching the scene with expressions of confusion and horror.
“S-somepony, help me!”
She barely had time to register the tree rapidly growing in one eye before the world erupted in pain and darkness.
The first thing Beige recognized was a pounding in her ears, accompanied by a constant, dull ache. She groaned and tried to rub her head, but instead touched gauze.
Her – bed? Soft surface. Cool covers, light and thin. Yes, she was on a bed – shifted. Something bumped against her shoulder. And again.
“Honey?”
Beige peeled one eye open. She saw her little Pipette, standing on the bed and bumping her with the side of her head. Orange eyes brightened when they met Beige’s from under that blonde mane. Pipette started to approach her face, a beaming smile on her lips, when she was caught up in a soft blue glow.
“Muma!” She flailed her hind legs and reached for her mother, but Crunchy Chip caught her up in his forehooves. He was a tall but lanky stallion, his mane a light brown and his coat purple.
“Now hold on, Little Piper,” he whispered, hugging their squirming daughter to his chest. “Give Mommy some time.” His relieved smile filled Beige with warmth. “How are you feeling, hon?”
For all of a second, she considered the truth. Instead she gave what she hoped was a confident smile. “I’ve been through worse.”
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and he raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been through worse than flying full-speed into a tree trunk?”
“Sure I have.” She winced as the pounding behind her eyes intensified for a few seconds. As the pain faded, she sighed and closed her eye. “Can’t think of anything right now, but I’m sure that’s just because that tree attacked me.”
“Muma!”
That voice made Beige’s chest swell. She reached for the it and opened her eyes. “Come to Mommy, little… whoa.”
She squeezed her eyes shut once more, rubbing them with both hooves as the drumbeat intensified. It couldn’t be…
“BB?”
But it had. She’d seen it. Suddenly, the last waking moments before her crash came back: the loss of balance, the terrible dividing of the world, the panicked fall.
“Muma!”
“Hold on, Pipette. Beige, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t want to look. Looking would prove it was real. Despite the mounting tension in her gut, Beige gradually cracked one eye open. She tried to look directly at Chip. His frightened face drifted in her vision, as if the world refused to stay in place for her.
It took several seconds of silent self-encouragement to get her to crack open the other eye. It was aimed in a completely different direction, the wall just above the window being its focal point. Both views drifted about in seemingly random directions, neither going in the way she demanded.
Her ear, the one not covered in bandages, folded back as she whimpered. “M-my… What’s wrong with my eyes?”
On the edge of her left-side vision, she could see the loose jaw of Chip and his wide eyes. “Sweet Celestia. They’re… Well, they’re looking two directions. Like… y’know, like a chameleon.”
The knot in Beige’s chest tightened. She pressed both forehooves over her eyes and groaned. “This is so weird. I can’t stop it.”
“W-well,” Chip ventured, “maybe the crash caused it? I mean, the doctor said you hit your head pretty hard.”
“No.” She shook her head and felt her entire body tilting to the right from the motion. With a yelp, she tried to rebalance – and promptly fell on her left side. She blinked, letting her vision drift around as she took in this fall. Was her balance still wonky?
“Beige?”
Slowly, her hooves moving with great caution, she pulled herself upright. “I’m okay. Balance is off. But Chip… the accident didn’t cause this. This caused the accident.”
She could barely see his head tilt to the side. Her view focused instead on little Pipette, who was watching her with big, curious eyes. She giggled at her mother as the view shifted to a new angle.
“What do you mean?” Chip asked, shifting to improve his hold on their daughter.
“I mean when I crashed. I was flying just like normal, coming home from the school, and then?” She raised her forehooves to point at her eyes. She could see a horseshoe in her left field of vision, while the other eye decided the bedsheets were interesting. “The world went crazy and took my balance with it. This is what caused the crash, not the other way around.”
“Oh. That’s… uh…”
“Muma?”
“Oh, Pipette. Come here, you little cutie.” Beige reached out, and Chip carefully deposited the filly into her hooves. Pipette wasted no time snuggling up in the crook of her mother’s neck, humming happily. Slowly, dreading what might happen if her balance tipped again, Beige lowered herself back onto the pillow. “Did Mommy worry you? I’m sorry. I’m here now.”
Chip smiled warmly as he watched them. “She knew something was wrong when you were late from work. Wouldn’t calm down until she saw your face.”
Beige rubbed Pipette’s back and rested her cheek on her head, careful to avoid the tiny horn. “I’ll have to make it up to her later.”
Silence crept between them, and she finally took the opportunity to examine her surroundings. Or rather, examine them as well as she could with two eyes that refused to go where she wanted them to. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus on what she was seeing in both eyes at once. After a few seconds she determined that the hospital room offered little of interest, anyway: a couple cabinets, a sink, and a door to a bathroom, all illuminated by the sunlight coming in from a small, half-open window. Everything in either white or grey, and all of it boring.
After a time, Chip broke the silence. “Would you like me to get a nurse? Have them look at your eyes?”
The question poked at her heart like a hot needle. Her ear folded back once more and she turned her head from him. What would they say? She tried to think of something to tell them, to help them determine a cause. They might try to blame her studies, but that couldn’t possibly be the source. Yet something had happened, and she couldn’t imagine what.
Oh, Celestia, what if this was permanent? How would she take Pipette flying? Could she even do her job? She couldn’t lump all their bills on Chip! She began to choke, her chest heaving. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Don’t panic. Panicking wouldn’t help.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Chip rested his hoof on her shoulder. “BB? Calm down. I’m sure the doctor will have this cleared up in no time.”
He was right. He had to be. Opening her eyes, she turned her head towards him, ready to show her positive outlook. The attempt died on her lips when she found herself unable to look at him. She knew her face pointed right at his, but he wasn’t even in the peripherals of her vision.
She sagged and nuzzled his hoof, trying to ignore the uncertainty nibbling at her insides. “Of course. I’ll try. It’s just a few days, right?”
‘A few days’ seemed like so long ago. Beige stood by the kitchen window, her head tilted at an angle so her left eye could gaze at the yard and the busy street just beyond. Early afternoon, and she was still cooped up at home. Her condition had mystified the doctors as much as it had her. For all their theories and proposals and ideas, it was ultimately determined that Beige suffered from some malady unknown to modern medicine.
So now she stayed at home on medical leave, struggling to relearn how to use her body. She had an appointment in another few days for some medical and magical tests, but at the moment the best prescription she could get was along the lines of ‘rest up and hope it gets better.’
She heaved a sigh and bit the handle of a basket on the counter. The warmth of the muffins she’d just finished baking felt good on her throat. With gradual, cautious steps and wings spread as a precaution, she walked her way to the door. She emerged in the living room, where Chip was setting Pipette down on their couch. A proud smile graced his lips as he looked upon Beige. Every time she saw that smile, she felt a little lighter.
“Hey, you made it,” he said, gently taking the basket from her with his magic. He eyed the muffins curiously. “You know, I still can’t believe you just learned how to make these.” He took a bite from one and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Goddesses, BB, you’ve been holding out on me.”
“Pappa?”
Chip obediently lowered a quarter of a muffin down to Pipette, who seized the baked good greedily. “See, even Pipette likes your cooking now.”
Beige sighed and raised her hoof. It took her a few tries to find it in her ever-moving field of vision, but once she did she stared at. “I just don’t understand. I can barely wa—whoa.” She swayed wildly, leg and wings flailing. Only her husband’s magical push kept her from toppling to the floor. Once the wave of imbalance passed and she’d planted all four hooves on the floor, she continued, “I can hardly stand by myself, and yet when I got the urge to make muffins, it was like my body knew exactly what to do. It makes no sense at all.”
She pouted and lowered her head. “I’ve never even touched an oven before yesterday. I came up with that recipe out of my head. How did I do that, Chip?”
“Maybe you saw the recipe once and just forgot,” he said, his tone dismissive. Neither it nor his words did anything to ease the uncertainty drifting through her head. Miraculously able to cook muffins, barely able to walk across the room, never able to focus on any one thing. It was like the world actively worked to keep her confused and disoriented. More and more, her body felt like it was under the control of some nameless enemy.
“You ready to give it another go?”
She looked up, cocking her head left until she could get Chip into her line of sight. He stood by their front door now, watching her with an encouraging smile. Maybe if she focused on that smile, she could regain some of her confidence. She eyed her hooves with a small frown.
“You can do it, honey.”
Could she? She’d made it here from the kitchen, but that had only been a few steps. She sucked in a deep breath, raised her head and began clearing her mind. Her head steadily moving with the view of her right eye, she kept Chip the focus of her attention. Carefully, she took a step. Then another.
“So far so good,” she whispered. Another step. Chip’s smile grew as she came closer. “It’s just one step… at a time…”
The shift hit, sudden and alarming. Beige felt herself leaning precariously, this time to her left. She focused with all she had to regain control, her body twisting steadily in the opposite direction to counteract the loss of balance.
“Honey, honey, you’re about to—”
“Hush.” She ground her teeth behind peeled-back lips. Her wings wobbled precariously as her vision – visions – swam wildly. Right… right… no, left!
Too late, Beige realized that she wasn’t really off balance, her screwed-up brain just made it seem that way. She hit the ground on her side, wincing with the pain of the impact. She’d barely managed to tuck her wing in and keep it from getting caught at a bad angle.
Her body hadn’t been the only thing to fall. She lay on the floor, listless, every inch of her feeling heavier than she’d ever remembered. And why not? One more thing that might go wrong with her body.
She could hear Chip saying something, but the meaning behind his words was lost. Too many thoughts vied for her attention. Too many voices telling her to just stay down and accept that she’d never be able to walk on her own again. She’d be a cripple for the rest of her life, relying on her husband for everything, unable to go anywhere without somepony to lean against. Would Chip have to devote the rest of his life caring for her? And when she got older, Pipette might abandon her future to stick by her poor, needy invalid of a mother.
Would Pipette resent her? Maybe not. She didn’t have to. Beige resented herself enough already. But she wouldn’t blame her daughter if she abandoned her in some crummy nursing home to go live her own life. There was nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. She’d just sit by the window, unable to go anywhere, longing to be able to move, hating her stupid body and her crazy eyes and… and…
Something bumped her. She ignored it. Better to wallow in—
Another bump. Why was Chip even trying? She hadn’t been able to walk on her own in—
Something poked her in the belly, making her flinch. It happened again before she could get her head together, and this time she gave a tiny ‘eep’.
“Up!”
She winced at another poke and looked down. Pipette gave her a curious look before jabbing her tiny horn into Beige’s stomach. “Up. Muma up.”
Chip appeared overhead, wearing a warm smile. “That’s right, Little Piper, you tell her. No lollygagging when you’re around.”
“Up. Up!”
No amount of wallowing could make Beige ignore that pillar of cuteness, regardless of how tempting it might be. She grinned and caught Pipette in a tight hug. A fresh warmth filled that pit in her belly as she snuggled the foal.
“I’m sorry, Little Piper,” she whispered, burying her muzzle in Pipette’s blonde mane. “Mommy’s getting up, I promise.”
“Up!” There was a distinct glee in Pipette’s voice as she cuddled against her mother. “Muma up. Muffins.”
Whatever remnants of despondency Beige had washed away as she laughed and kissed Pipette’s forehead. “Muffins. Gotcha. Honey?”
Chip took Pipette away, holding her in his forelegs as he sat back and watched. Slowly, moving one hoof at a time, Beige repositioned herself until she was on her barrel. With one eye drifting over her family, she gave them a smile she hoped was more confident than she felt.
Then she waited.
Seconds ticked by. She closed her eyes to get rid of the distraction of a divided world. The balance within her shifted in small ways, and she practiced ignoring it. Her brain was a traitorous liar. Her lifetime of instincts had to be unlearned. She wasn’t about to force Crunchy Chip and Pipette to tend to her like some invalid, no. She was going to beat this.
At last, the world seemed steady enough. Sucking in a deep breath, then another, she finally applied pressure through her legs. Gradually, cautiously, she brought herself back to a standing position. Pipette’s cry of delight brought a smile to her lips and the swelling back to her chest. Swishing her tail, she opened her eyes.
The ceiling fan on her left and the coffee table on her right. She closed her left eye so she could center her attention on just the coffee table. With no small amount of concentration, she managed to force that eye to shift. At last, the couch came properly into view.
“You can do it, BB,” Chip called, then added an encouraging, “Can’t she, huh, can’t she?”
“Muma!” Pipette cried, punctuating the ‘word’ with a giggle.
Oh, if only they knew how appreciative Beige was. With one last, deep breath, she began to move. One step. Two. Her balance tilted left; she ground her teeth together and reminded herself over and over again: don’t fight it, don’t fight it, don’t fight it…
Another step. She was veering right. She paused, breathing through her nose as she focused on absolutely not leaning right. Her legs wobbled. The shift in balance eased. Once sure she could move, she started walking again.
At long last, she reached the couch. Her sense of balance behaved itself… for the time being. But Beige knew that the coming step would be the hardest. She raised one leg, hesitantly setting it upon the cushion. With great care, she shifted her weight and let her other forehoof join it. She paused, sucking in long breaths. Through force of will, she brought her right eye up to focus on the armrest. Her body was trying to lean backwards now.
Chip walked around to the back of the couch, letting Pipette stand on the backrest but holding her still with his magic. “That’s right, BB. Come on, a little more.”
Beige kept her eye set on the armrest, but her attention was on Pipette, who watched her with wide, hopeful eyes. She smiled and asked, “Up?”
Pipette leaned forward so far that only Chip’s magic kept her from tumbling off the couch. “Up.” Her small face was so endearingly serious.
“Alright. Up.” One more deep breath. Her balance was righting itself again…
With a light kick, Beige climbed onto the couch. She swayed and wobbled dangerously, struggling to not obey her body’s desire to fight her balance. She ended up falling forward, chin smacking on the armrest and sending a jolt through her teeth.
But she was on the couch. Awkwardly, but on it nonetheless. She counted her blessings even as she rubbed her sore chin. “I think we need softer cushions.”
“Muma!”
A small weight dropped onto Beige’s back just behind the wings, knocking the air out of her. She gasped, wings and legs flailing, as the little pony trotted over her backside and buried her muzzle in Beige’s mane. Chip was laughing, curse him!
“You…” she wheezed, “did that… on purpose.”
“Maybe.” He knelt down and kissed her on the muzzle. “No amount of magic can keep a filly from congratulating her mother.”
“Muma!”
She wanted to scowl at him, but Pipette’s squirming on her back betrayed the thought, and she grinned instead. She’d made it on her own. Clumsily, slowly, but she’d made it. Any progress was better than no progress.
Never would she allow herself to be a burden on her family.
Beige would have rolled her eyes, but past experience taught her not to risk the nausea. She knew what it meant when Chip used that tone. With a sigh, she stood and made her wobbling way to the front door. Two months of mandatory practice had made this possible, if not easy, and she had no expectation of flying anytime soon. The thought stood out as a ball of ice that had been lodged in her chest ever since the accident, but she did her best to ensure her husband and daughter were unaware.
She moved across the house like a pony-sized ping pong ball, pushing away from walls and tables and anything else sturdy enough to hold her weight in order to move a little bit faster. She’d grown quite good at controlling one eye, even if its motions were sluggish. Today she focused on her left eye, hoping that alternating between left and right regularly would help her improve with both. Maybe someday she’d even be able to control both eyes at once, which would be a nice change.
Chip stood at the door, effectively blocking entry. Beige couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine his scowl. She came to a shaky pause at his side, one hoof on the doorway to steady herself. “Alright, Chip, back down. Play nice with the science pony.”
Her husband let out a low growl, but obediently backed away enough for her to step up to the door. She grinned at the sight of Doctor Whooves, who appeared to be just shaking off a glare of his own. “Good morning, Doctor. Always nice to see you.”
Doctor Whooves adjusted his glasses, lips set in a thin line. He focused his attention directly on her, and she knew he was struggling not to cast his gaze over her shoulder. “Nice to see you too, my dear. I hope I haven’t come too early.”
“Not at all. Would you like to come in?” Chip’s huff went ignored by both of them. “I’m sure Pipette would love to see you. I can whip up some coffee, if you like.”
The Doctor’s expression became strained, his brow furrowing. He rubbed the back of his head and couldn’t meet the eye she had aimed his way. “W-well, I’d love to, B, but I’m afraid I came here for a reason. I’m, uh, here to fetch you.”
Beige’s blood ran cold and her entire body stiffened. It took a few seconds for her to remember to breathe. “I… I see. For whom?”
The way he chewed his lip only made the ice in her veins thicken. Why wouldn’t he meet her gaze? “Headmaster Fantasy. And, uh, Mayor Mare. In his office.”
A long, quiet pause settled among them, interrupted only by a cool breeze. Beige’s mind churned in slow motion as she took in the news. Why would the headmaster and the mayor want to speak to her? True, it had been two months since she’d been put on sick leave, but the Doctor was continuing their research. She’d been helping him when she could. At this point, she probably could go back to teaching if they’d just let her. So why…
“It’s probably nothing,” Chip said. All the anger had vanished from his tone, replaced by a soft concern. He set a hoof to her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Beige. You want me to come?”
The touch of his hoof was like a jolt of electricity jump starting her mental faculties. She looked to Chip while her right eye swayed drunkenly over Doctor Whooves. How interesting; all those years they shared the same expression of revulsion around one another, and at this moment they’d both shifted to concern. It might have been touching were she not trying to fight with her insides.
“N-no,” she said at last, though she gave Chip a nuzzle. “Thanks, but I’m a big girl. Like you said, it’s probably nothing.”
“Yeah, ‘big girl.’ ” He chuckled and returned the motion. “I bet even Pipette will be bigger than you in a few years.”
“I hope so.” She pulled away and turned to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll be here.” He then spat out a much more venomous, “Doctor.”
To his credit, Dr. Whooves managed to keep his “Mr. Chip” at least somewhat civil, although Beige clearly saw the malice in his eyes.
Beige stepped out, tugging lightly on his shoulder as she passed him. She wobbled along, keeping her head high and determined to go as far as possible unaided. The Doctor walked at her side, but at a distance, and he made no attempt to help her. She didn’t have to look back to know that Chip was watching them very closely.
But when they had journeyed well beyond sight of the house, he moved in, pressing a hoof to her shoulder and steadying her steps. A part of Beige wanted to growl at him, but she stuffed that desire into a box, chained it up and buried it in the back of her mind. After all, walking for so long tended to get tiring when one had to constantly fight their own body, and Beige’s knees were getting sore from all the bracing and quick, correcting motions. Wandering from one side of the street to the other at random certainly didn’t do her any favors. She could feel the eyes of the other ponies; pitying, concerned or, far worse, amused.
Her weighty thoughts were stalled by the Doctor’s quiet voice. “Sorry.”
She tilted her head to catch him with one eye. He was looking away from her, lips set in a soft frown. “For what?”
“For Chip. I… tried.”
With a long sigh, she patted his back with a wing. “Someday my husband and my oldest friend are going to tell me why it is they can’t stand the sight of one another.”
“I hope that day never comes,” he replied grimly. Beige knew better than to press him.
They walked through town in silence for a time, Beige sometimes attempting to walk on her own, but often leaning on his side. They avoided more crowded routes. She didn’t like being the center of attention, and stumbling into a pony in the middle of the street was a sure way to make that happen. There were other reasons too, such as how she had to keep pressing against Dr. Whooves when her knees grew tired from the struggle of walking on their own, or when she came close to stumbling and needed his support to avoid from making a fool of herself. Ponies tended to watch the pegasus who walked like a perpetual drunk, and she needed as few eyes as possible.
How would it look for ponies to see her pressed against the Doctor’s body? How many would mistake his assistance as something more? Ponies talked, news flew, rumors spread, and Chip was the jealous sort. She hated how she had to hide something so innocent as the Doctor’s well-intended assistance at times like this, but accepting her husband’s flaws was just one part of a successful marriage.
They were going down a side street, still a few blocks from the school, when Dr. Whooves interrupted her thoughts once more. “B… Do you think you’ll ever be able to…”
She studied him with a lazily shifting eye, observing the way he mumbled to himself, his bushy eyebrows closing in on one another. “What is it?”
He turned his head away swiftly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.”
“Oh, no.” She bumped his shoulder with her own, pleased that the motion didn’t send her sprawling. “You’re not getting out of it that easy. Spit it out.”
He ducked his head, as if expecting a blow. “I don’t want to dig into healing wounds.”
She lifted her leg to block his path. This proved a mistake, as she careened wildly when he bumped into it. Only his frantic grab kept her from falling on her face. Her forward pitch came to an abrupt stop, but he overbalanced and they both fell back, stumbling a few steps and landing on their haunches in the dirt. Beige wanted to curse at her mistake.
Instead, she forced out a chuckle. “Oops.”
Doctor Whooves eyed her thoroughly, face contorted in near panic. “You’re okay? You’re not hurt, are you? Did I grab you too—”
“I’m fine.” She smiled at him, his face lost to her ever-traitorous eyes. “Just a little slip. Don’t be such a mother hen.”
“Sorry…”
“And don’t be sorry, that one was on me.” She turned her head aside to catch a look at his face before patting him on the cheek. “Now what were you about to ask me?”
He chewed his lip, still unable to meet her eye. “I… I just wondered if you thought you might… ever fly again.”
An ice pick stabbed directly into her heart, and it took every ounce of will she had not to wince. Her wings snapped closed as she turned her face away. She should yell at him for bringing that up, but instead she just sat there, stiff as a board and staring at nothing. Her wings itched, but she couldn’t bring herself to move them.
He spoke in a hurry, words tumbling over themselves. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—I shouldn’t have—I just—The saddle’s finished. It seemed so important to you, and I know Pipette’s birthday has come and gone, b-but I thought you might—Crap, forget I said anything. I’m so sorry.”
Beige’s precious filly invaded her mind’s eye. She closed her physical ones and, for a heartrending moment, felt the wind through her feathers. She was soaring over the town, basking in the sunlight, pushing through the clouds. In her ears, she heard laughter. Joyous, happy laughter. Pipette’s voice, so small, so carefree, so wonderful.
“Oh, horseapples. Beige, I am so sorry.”
She brushed away her tears with a trembling hoof. “I… I can’t bring her up there. I c-can’t. She’ll know magic, she’ll get her daddy’s gifts, but she’ll never ever know mine. I can’t take my little filly flying. I w-wanted to so… so badly…”
He held her close, her face buried in his chest as she sobbed.
“I must be the stupidest stallion in the history of ponydom,” he muttered into her mane.
Even as she stained his coat with her tears, a barrage of thoughts swept through her mind. She wanted to throttle him for bringing this out of her at last, when not even Chip had managed it. She wanted to hold him tight like a life raft and never let go. She wanted to scream to the heavens for crushing her heart like this. She wanted to go home and hold little Pipette tight and apologize again and again and again!
With time, Beige’s rational mind regained its control. Her tears ceased, her shaking stilled. Slowly, she pulled away and rubbed at her eyes. Her stupid, messed up eyes. Then she sat back and practiced taking a few slow, deep breaths and swallowing to moisten her sore throat.
At last, she focused an eye on the Doctor. He sagged on his hooves, head low and ears flopped back. Without raising his eyes, he muttered a quiet “I’m sorry.”
“It’s… It’s okay.” She reached out, hoping to pat his shoulder or something, but her balance shifted and she had to quickly set it back down. She growled through her teeth. “Come on, stupid body, give me a break.” He winced, and she kept her curse silent. Barely.
“Seriously. Doctor, it’s okay.” She tried for a smile, not sure if he saw it. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Well you should be,” he countered with so much heat in his voice it was a wonder he didn’t breathe fire. The tone made her flinch back. “I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing up that stupid… thing. No, not stupid. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just… I don’t know.”
Beige bowed her head. She wanted to say something to ease his mood, but the words wouldn’t come. Her mind ran blank, utterly failing in its task. But she couldn’t let him beat himself up like this, so…
“Please don’t blame yourself.” She leaned forward and nuzzled his mane just above the ear. “Please. I don’t want you feeling responsible like this. So… throw it away.”
He raised his head, eyes going wide. “What?”
The words chewed up her throat, but she made herself smile as she said them. “Throw the saddle away. I… I won’t be needing it anymore.”
For a time he merely gaped at her. Then, suddenly, he shook himself as if coming out of a trance. “No. No! I would never do that. That saddle was important. To you. It’s all done and everything!”
She turned her face towards him, which had the curious effect of settling him outside her ever-swirling vision. Good. She didn’t really want to look at him anyway. “I can’t fly, Doctor. I won’t be able to… to use it.” She wouldn’t bow her head, not now! She held onto her smile as if it alone could keep her on her hooves. “So you might as well get rid of it.”
He said nothing for some time. She couldn’t see him – didn’t want to see him – but she could hear. His little shifts and half-started replies. The way his tail swished in the dirt. She held her smile. She had to.
When he finally answered, it was with a whisper, but it seemed so loud. “Couldn’t somepony in your family use it?”
She opened her mouth to deny the idea, but hesitated. She had nopony, but Chip had a few pegasus relatives, right? The thought of anypony else taking her Little Piper flying made her feel like she’d swallowed live worms. Still, it was an option. A terrible option, but she couldn’t deny Pipette the opportunity because of her own discomfort, could she? It wouldn’t be right.
It took some willpower, but she forced the words out of her throat. “Okay. I guess. But… could you keep it for now? I don’t think I can…”
“Of course.” His smile was fragile, but relieved. “Whatever you need, B. Pipette will get to fly someday, you’ll see.”
The silence in Headmaster Fantasy’s office lay over Beige like a thick blanket, suffocating and weighty. She tried to remove it, but her chest refused to compress, trapping her air and her voice. One wide eye shifted slowly from him to Mayor Mare. The other blinked rapidly. Then they were both blinking, struggling to keep the moisture at bay.
At last, her stomach’s vice-like grip faltered. “W-what did you say?”
Mayor Mare shifted in her seat, casting furtive glances at the headmaster. “I’m sorry, Miss Beaker. I truly am.”
They didn’t mean it. They hadn’t just told her… “S-say it again.”
Headmaster Fantasy tugged on his tie with both hooves, his cheeks pale. “I wish I had better news. I was shocked too.”
Beige’s legs shook. She struggled to remain upright. “You can’t. You can’t do this.”
“The school is closing, Miss Beaker,” Mayor Mare said, quietly but firmly. “We’re doing it slowly, over a couple years, but it will close. There’s nothing I can do.”
“But my research—”
“Is over, at least as far as this institution in concerned.” The headmaster sighed and pressed a hoof to his forehead. “Miss Beaker. Beige. I did everything I could to stop this, but the budget just isn’t there anymore. Without Canterlot’s support, the school has to close.”
Her lips trembled as Beige tried to find something, anything she could say to stop this. “Th-there are other programs you can cut. There are ways to save money. I only need a little more time. A-another few months, perhaps. We were closing on a breakthrough, I know it!”
“In a couple years, we’ll all be out of the job or somewhere else.” Headmaster Fantasy sat back to stare at the ceiling. “I’ll probably have to get a teaching job in some big city school. Maybe a Dean’s position, if I can puff up my resume enough. You’re not the only one hurt by this.”
The Mayor squirmed, as if she wanted to turn away from them both but was forcing herself not to. “Ponyville will just have to settle for Cheerilee’s school. It’s a perfectly fine place, and ponies who want some higher education can just… well… look elsewhere.”
“There are ponies in this town who can’t look elsewhere!” Beige stomped and nearly fell over for her trouble. Both the Mayor and the headmaster moved as if to help, but she managed to recover before getting a face full of floor. She sat back up, moving slow both out of caution and to buy time to think. All her work, her studies, her data gathering… she had to protect it.
“You are free to take your research with you,” Headmaster Fantasy said as she straightened up. “But I’m afraid your time here is at an end.”
Beige pressed her hooves against the desk, one eye drifting over the bookshelf-covered wall and the other staring out the window. A black shadow hovered over her heart, and her stomach roiled. Voice low, she asked, “Is it because of my condition? Is that why I’m being let go first?”
They shared a glance. Beige steamed.
“We have to be practical about how we do this.” The headmaster spoke cautiously, as though he were attempting to calm a timberwolf. “You must understand, we—”
“‘We’ nothing! I’m the hardest working teacher you’ve got in this place.”
He tugged at his tie. His expression turned blank. “You haven’t worked in two months.”
What had felt like a firm foundation suddenly became sandy and dangerous. Beige’s hooves shook again as she scrambled for a defense that didn’t involve her condition. “I… I help. I’ve been grading ponies’ papers and… a-and things like that. When they need the h-help. And—”
“I’m afraid the decision is final.” For once, Mayor Mare spoke firmly. “There’s a lot more behind this than you can fathom, Derpy, and I am forced to apply my hooves in ways I don’t approve of, but—”
“What did you call me?”
The question slipped through Beige’s lips coated in ice, soft and low. She stood as still as stone, save for small twitches in her shoulders and lips. For the first time in ages, both eyes locked on one thing, that being the Mayor’s confused face. Beige could feel something within her boiling and bubbling, filling up her body.
The Mayor paused, her gaze unfocusing and her lips working as if reciting her own words. Abruptly, she paled, her own eyes widening as comprehension dawned. She said nothing, only stared at Beige as if she faced death itself. She swallowed audibly as Headmaster Fantasy edged away.
Beige felt as if she might explode. Her ears rang, and she could see red on the edge of her vision. Her wings shivered constantly with pent-up energy. For a moment – a sweet, bitter, wonderful, hideous moment – she imagined herself leaping over the desk and smashing the Mayor’s muzzle. Oh, but it would feel so good.
Then, one eye slipped off the target of her fury, drifting gradually up to the ceiling.
The motion triggered an entirely new sensation: pain. A horrible, searing edge digging itself into her chest. Tears began to form as Beige felt something akin to chains wrapping around her hooves, her wings, her throat. Her scream collapsed unheard, her anger roiling but unable to escape. She stared into the horrified, guilt-riven eyes of the Mayor for another second or two.
She turned and galloped out of the office, heedless of anything they might have said in her flight.
Her hoof drifted up and down over her cutie mark. Up, down. Up, down. If she kept rubbing, would the bubbles be erased? Maybe somepony knew a spell to get rid of cutie marks. That would be appropriate.
She lay in the corner of her lab. Yes, her lab. It would always be hers, no matter what anypony said. Orange beams of light highlighted the particles of dust in the air, not so many as one might expect. She liked it clean in here. Here. In her lab.
Her body ached. It felt like the touch of a ghost, as if the aching were only a memory, yet she knew it to be real. She’d slammed into too many walls on her short little gallop. At least, she thought it was short. Maybe it had been long. Maybe she’d galloped circles around the school and just hadn’t noticed. On that note, how long had she been lying here?
It didn’t matter. She just wanted to stay here. If they wanted her gone, they’d have to drag her out.
As if on cue, the door to the laboratory opened. Her left eye was focused on the chemical freezer, so she couldn’t see who it was. She didn’t care anyway. As the hoofsteps came closer, she shifted her head away from the sound and closed her eyes, indulging in the harsh chill of the tiled floor.
“I thought I might find you here.”
She hadn’t expected the Doctor. Regardless, she turned away from him and curled into a ball. “Go away.”
Instead, he ran his hoof through her mane. His touch was gentle, as it had always been. The stallion didn’t have a hard cell in his entire body.
He spoke in almost a whisper. “The headmaster told me. I went to your place first, thinking you might have wanted to see Chip. He’s real worried.”
Oh. Chip. Pipette. Now Beige had guilt on top of her self-pity. She buried her face in her hooves and said nothing. She doubted she could say anything without bursting into tears. Again.
“Come on, B. It’s not so bad. Our work was really coming along. I bet we could get grants from other institutions. Better ones.”
Better ones. Yes, they could try that. And yet… She sniffed and shook her head.
“No?”
Silence lingered between them. Beige wanted to sink into the floor. It refused her. Not that this surprised her. She wouldn’t want to have her, either.
“Talk to me.” His hoof settled on her shoulder. “Please, B. I can’t help you if you won’t talk.”
Could she? Should she? She doubted he would even understand. Talking did nothing to resolve her situation, for it went beyond words. It descended into something else, something hateful, spiteful, and arrogant. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she did. Maybe if she said nothing, he would go away.
But he didn’t go away. After an indeterminable time, he lay down at her side. He said not a word, just kept close.
A wave of conflicting thoughts rushed Beige at his presence. Maybe if she screamed and raged like she’d wanted to earlier, he would leave her alone. No, she couldn’t do that to him. None of this was his fault. But if she didn’t do something, he’d stay by her side, because that was the kind of stallion he was. He was kind and caring and concerned and… and…
Her friend. And keeping him out would be wrong of her, wouldn’t it? Of course it would. She knew it well. How could she even consider pushing him away? So, with no small amount of effort, she forced the words out of her throat.
“She called me Derpy.” The name brought the sting back to her heart.
The Doctor shifted. “Who?”
Her lips seemed sealed by glue. Tears leaked from her eyes as she pried them apart. “The Mayor.”
“Oh.” A long pause. “I… don’t know what to say to that.”
She sniffed and rubbed her muzzle. “I don’t, either.”
She opened her eyes. The world blurred for a few seconds, and she blinked the tears away. Her vision cleared, and she found herself gazing at a cabinet handle and her flank. Her flank… her cutie mark. She remembered acquiring it during science class one day as a filly. Oh, the things she’d imagined she could do! Now nopony would dare leave her alone in a laboratory full of fragile, expensive equipment. Including her.
She sighed and closed her eyes once more. “Am I going to be like this for the rest of my life?”
His answer came quickly. Too quickly. “No, of course you won’t.”
Despite everything, she smiled. That was just like him, to lie for her. “Thanks, Doctor.”
“I’m serious.” He ran his hoof through her mane again. She had to admit, it felt nice. “Things will get better, B. You’re not doomed. Somepony will figure this out.”
“Will they?” She lifted her head, even though it seemed to weigh a ton. She opened her left eye and, with a bit of effort, managed to look at his face. He appeared… tired. Ragged. His mane was all frazzled, part of it hanging over his face.
But his eyes still shone brightly when they settled upon her. “They will. You’ve got to believe that.”
She sighed and let her head fall once more. “I’m not sure I can. Shouldn’t the doctors have found something by now if they could?” Her left eye drifted to the ceiling, through the thin beams of sunlight. She watched the dust dance. She imagined those little dots fluttering around her wings.
“We still have our research.”
“You do, perhaps.” She pouted and rolled so she was on her belly, but left her chin on the floor. “I can’t be in a lab, Doctor. I’m too clumsy now. We’re dealing with some potent stuff.”
“But you still know the science,” he countered, a bit of energy returning to his voice. “I can handle the lab! You can focus on analysis. We can still do this.”
She shifted her head to catch a look at him in the corner of her vision. The tiniest fraction of the weight on her mind lifted. “You… you think so?”
“Of course I do!” He straightened up and puffed out his chest. “You’re not useless, Beige. You’re still a scientist. A chemist. We’ll get funding from a more appropriate institution, one worthy of having your name attached to it. And when they’re spreading fertilizing clouds all over and Equestria is feeding the world, it will be your name on everypony’s lips.”
She chuckled at his display. “Our names, Doctor.”
“Maybe.” He grinned and poked her shoulder. “But yours will be on top.”
She smiled. Good goddess, it felt good to smile. She let her eyes drift across the laboratory. So she could barely walk. So she couldn’t fly. So ponies were calling her degrading names now.
“You know what? You’re right.” She picked herself up into a sitting position as quickly as she dared and stretched her wings. “I’m not useless. I can still do this. I’ve lost so much because of this stupid affliction, but I’ve still got my brains. I’m still a chemist.”
“That’s right.” He held her shoulder, lips stretched in a grin. She loved when he smiled like that. It was when he had that smile that he did his best work. “You are Beige Beaker, and you’re the best darn chemist this side of Canterlot.”
With a giggle, she patted his cheek. “Now you’re just trying to butter me up.”
“Guilty as charged,” he replied, his smile turning smug.
Then, before he or her wacky balance could stop her, she grabbed him by the ears, bent his head down and kissed him just above the eyes. “Thanks, Doctor. Really. I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”
She pulled back to find his entire face turned to roughly the same color as a tomato, right up to his ears. He sputtered and stared at his hooves before managing to squeak out a barely audible “Welcome.”
She laughed – wow, she could still do that? – and rubbed her hooves together. “Alright, Doc, time to make some plans. These losers don’t want us? We’ll go somewhere else! But first, I wanna get all our research out of here.”
Although the red hadn’t left his face, Doctor Whooves still managed to put on his confident working expression, ears perked and eyes focused on her. “Right. We can move it all to my place for now, I’ve got the room. We’ll have to replace some of the equipment, seeing as a third of it belongs to the school, but we’ll make do.”
She gave a firm nod and started to stand, but the world swung wildly and she had to drop to her haunches again. At least the motions didn’t make her feel nauseous anymore. “I don’t think I’ll be much help when it comes to moving things. I can… uh… take the paperwork? For now, why don’t we take inventory, figure out what needs to go?”
“Sounds good. We can’t do much now anyway; you’ve gotta get back to Chip and let him know you’re alright.”
She blinked, then groaned. “Chip! How could I forget? He’s probably worried sick.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You wanna go? Come back tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’d better. But, uh…” She looked about the lab. “Do we have the latest research results? I’d like to go over them. Give me something to think about in the meantime.”
“Can do.” He turned and trotted for one of the filing cabinets. As he did, she turned her head slowly to take in the laboratory one more time. She smiled wistfully; she was going to miss this place. She’d not had many quality students, and the facility, if she spoke honestly, direly needed an upgrade. Still… it had been home.
“Here we are.” Doctor Whooves held a set of papers before her muzzle. “Compiled this data just two days ago.”
“Wonderful!” She snatched it from him and pored over the front page with one eye. “I’ll get my mind going again. Who knows, maybe my weird vision will let me see things from… a new… perspective?”
The doctor had already run half-across the lab to gather some things. He turned around, more papers in his hooves. “Something wrong?”
“I…” She stared at the title of the page. At a single word. Not a simple word by the average pony’s standards, but for her? The very definition of simple. “So why can’t I…”
“What is it?” The Doctor eyed her curiously, then chuckled. “Did I misspell something?”
A chill ran through Beige. She licked her lips, taking in one letter at a time. “E. Eeeyou… E…you…trooo… why don’t I know this word?”
“Uh…” The Doctor shifted in the corner of her vision. “You mean eutrophication?”
“Eutro… tro…” Her hooves began to shake. “I know this word. I know what it means. I know what it means. I do.”
“But of course you do, it’s your study.” He smiled, but stretched his lips too wide. “C’mon, B, stop trying to pull my tail. I’m not—”
“I should know what this means!” She flipped through pages frantically, her eye falling upon word after mysterious word. The simple, everyday ones were easy as ever, but the technical jargon? “No. No. No. No. No!” She pulled one of the pages with such force it ripped through the stapler and fluttered away. “I can’t read this!”
Dr. Whooves eyes widened. “You can’t?”
She threw the paper aside, head spinning and panic setting in. She stumbled to her hooves and ran for the chemical freezer. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening!”
“Whoa, calm down!”
Beige slammed into the freezer and jerked it open. Dozens of beakers and bottles were arrayed before her, each with a label. She grabbed the nearest one and saw only a chemical formula. Numbers and letters pressed together. She should be able to identify it, to say what the symbols meant, but…
“No.” She shoved the bottle aside and grabbed a beaker. More letters. More numbers. She squinted at it with one eye, then another.
“No.” She pushed it back and snatched up a vial. This one actually had the name written in her own mouthwriting, and yet…
“No!” The vial flew over her shoulder. She barely registered the yelp of the Doctor, her attention focusing on each bottle as she grabbed one after the other in quick procession. Words. Nonsense. It was all nonsense!
“No!” She slammed her hooves on the rack, causing bottles to shake and spill their contents. She screamed at the ceiling, only to be cut off when her balance went haywire and sent her careening sideways. Her chin bashed against the top of the freezer door and she hit the floor hard.
“Beige!”
She crawled away on her back, vision swimming and heart throbbing. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched the chemicals mix. She knew what they were, knew what would happen when they combined, which was… which was… which was what?
Somepony caught her shoulders, wrapped her in a hug from behind. She looked up, into the concerned eyes of Doctor Whooves. “Calm down, Beige. Please, just calm down.”
Everything came to a boiling point all over again. Her entire body trembled as she clutched his hooves against her chest. “I’m a chemist. I’m a chemist, aren’t I?”
“You are,” he answered forcefully. “You’re a great chemist, B.”
“Then why can’t I remember?” Her voice cracked. Her vision blurred. “D-Doctor, what’s happening to me?”
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He tightened his hold and buried his face in her mane. “I don’t know. But it’s going to be alright. I promise, Beige. I p-promise.”
The sun shone brightly between the clouds. Birds sang their little birdie songs, fillies and colts ran laughing through the park, and ponies of all sorts enjoyed picnics, caught up on the latest gossip, and generally filled the air with a sense of harmony and pleasure.
Beige sat on a bench at the edge of the scene, watching it all behind the bangs of her blonde mane. She wished she could join the other ponies in their joy and pleasure. Her heart just couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm for it. With a sigh, she turned her gaze to the… ‘thing’ in her hooves.
It was a hat. A blue cap, signifying her new role in Ponyville. Sitting beside her, the center of her right eye’s attention, lay the rest of the uniform, neatly folded and awaiting its first use. To think, most ponies considered landing a new job cause for celebration. She should be thrilled. Her first job since her firing three months ago.
“I’m a chemist,” she whispered, rubbing the hard edge of the cap. Her eyes burned, but at least her hooves no longer shook. Was that like acceptance? It couldn’t be, not when her thoughts were in this much turmoil. She knew what she’d been born to do, didn’t she? Her cutie mark came from chemistry. She met her husband while visiting Cincinneighti for a chemists’ conference. She’d been breaking new ground in the field of… of… clouds. Fertilizing clouds. The work had a more technical name, but nowadays she couldn’t even remember the chemical formula for formal… form… forumal…
Goddess, she was pathetic.
A mailmare. This was what she’d been reduced to. They’d hired her right on the spot, as if they’d been expecting her. She wasn’t even sure what had drawn her to apply. She wasn’t suited to that job, but they didn’t seem to care.
She’d had plans that would have helped all of Equestria and the lands beyond. Now her days would be relegated to travelling all over Ponyville delivering mail and looking like a drunkard while she did it. She clutched the hat in her shaking hooves and imagined ripping it in two. Her muscles tensed from the desire, the need to rebel against this… whatever it was!
But the part that stayed her hoof, which left an inconceivable combination of pleasure and agony, was not that this hat symbolized her new life. No, her confusion stemmed the most from a strange feeling that as much as she loathed this new direction in her life… a quiet part of her wanted it. A tiny pony in the back of her mind danced a giddy jig at the mere thought of this new career. If only she could catch that stupid little pony and crush her like a bug.
For months on end, she had endured that annoying little voice. Growing stronger every day, it told her to forget about chemistry, about her years of hard work and study and research. She should embrace her new life, take pleasure in the little things, and eat more muffins! The tiny pony bombarded her with good cheer, positive thoughts and pleas for simplicity. Every day, Beige awoke to the fear that she might not be herself anymore.
But she knew who she was. “I’m Beige.” Beige Beaker. Chemist. Scientist. Researcher. Not a mailmare. Not a useless cripple. Not ignorant or stupid or clumsy. She was her own mare. She made her own life.
Didn’t she?
“Hey, Derpy! What’cha doing?”
She ground her teeth and glared with one eye at the curious looking pony. A little ball of pudge, that one. She recognized him from Cheerilee’s school, where she occasionally helped out until her steadily deteriorating IQ finally got the better of her. What was his name? Right, Snips.
He studied her for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. “Your eyes are always a hoot!”
With a snarl, she stuffed her new uniform in her saddlebag and stormed off. She wobbled after a few steps, but had gotten much better at controlling herself. That didn’t stop the detestable colt from noticing, however. He burst into another laughing fit. It was all Beige could do not to turn around and scream in his fat little face!
The little pony wagged her hoof at Beige and lectured her for being mean. If she ground her teeth any more she’d be down to the gums.
She made her way home, ignoring the friendly calls of those she passed by. Why should she acknowledge them? They were all calling her by that foul nickname! She’d tried being polite, ordering, rudeness, she once even broke into a screaming rage, but it didn’t matter; to everypony today, she was ‘Derpy.’ Or sometimes Ditzy, which was only marginally better. And they were all so happy about it! Even Mayor Mare, who paraded around acting as if she’d done nothing wrong. It got to the point that it seemed her real name had been outright forgotten. Ponies looked at her funny whenever she insisted they call her Beige. Even the Mayor. All she could do was grumble and ignore them, knowing she and Chip could never afford to move someplace else, not now that she was out of the job.
Well, she had a job today. It wouldn’t be enough to let them get away from this living Tartarus, but at least it would take some of the burden off Chip. The poor stallion had put up with so much thanks to her condition. The thought of his hard work was one of the few things that could put a smile on her face. She sometimes wondered if he knew how much she appreciated his efforts. Probably not, as much as she tried to make it clear.
Of course, there was always Pipette. The foul ponies in this town had given her a nickname too, but at least ‘Dinky’ didn’t sound half as insulting. But what if they didn’t stop calling her that when she grew up?
Pipette was too young to care, and that filly could bring out a smile in any pony suffering from any mood. In fact, a good dose of the Little Piper might be exactly what Beige needed! Nothing could cheer her up about having a new job she absolutely did not want – no matter what some bubbly, frustrating pony in her mind insisted – than an hour or two with her daughter. This in mind, she increased her pace to a trot.
The majority of the walk went without anything unusual happening, for which Beige could only be grateful. Every now and then she would simply… ‘mess up,’ for lack of a better term. Her loss of balance would come at an extremely inopportune time, or she might say something quirky and not know why. It felt as though fate was forcibly making her into comic relief for everypony, though she didn’t subscribe to that idea. At least, not as much as Chip seemed to lately. She attributed her odd moments to her condition, which continued to baffle medical ponies and even some mages who offered to have a look.
Beige didn’t like the mages, though. They always came to one of two conclusions. The first, the most natural: they had no idea what caused her symptoms. Oh, they suspected magic had something to do with it. They were looking at not only the loss of balance and strange eyes, but also the fading of practiced knowledge and the acquisition of new skills, mostly related to baking; what else could cause such an unlikely combination of symptoms? So while those mages couldn’t find a distinct cause, they all agreed that magic was involved.
But then there were the mages, the ones with real skill and unique specialties and national renown. Four of those had come to Beige in the last few months, confident they could resolve her mysterious case – and add to their prestige, of course. Every one reacted the same way.
They recoiled as if from a living flame.
No explanations were given. No answers were offered. The best she got was from the third mage, the headmaster of a school in Manehattan, who hesitantly told her that nopony would ever be able to help her. Chip had thrown him out on his tail and assured her it was all hogwash. She agreed.
Only because she had to.
She shook her head; these thoughts did her no favors. Her life was… well, it was crummy, but she had a husband who stood by her and the best filly a mother could ask for. She had to count her blessings. At least her condition didn’t appear to have any lethal consequences, and she could fend for herself well enough. She couldn’t fly, but with practice she might be able to do it. Pipette would probably be too big for her to carry by that time…
No. Positive thoughts. Positive.
It wasn’t until she was almost at the gate to her house that she noticed the carriage. She paused, taking in the short, green thing settled on her street. It had familiar items stacked on top and in the compartment on the back. That was Chip’s suitcase. That lamp was his, and the table his uncle gave him…
For a time, she could only stare at the thing, mind at a loss to make sense of it all. It wasn’t until Chip walked out of the house with his other, smaller suitcase that her mind kicked back into gear. She approached him at a trot, noting his hard frown and the way his breathing came slow and heavy.
“Chip?” She met him at the gate, recoiling when he cast his eyes her way. His brow was a mess of furrows, and his lips were peeled back in a grimace. “What’s going on? Why are you packing all our stuff?” He strode past her, and she followed as he levitated his suitcase into the carriage. “Chip? Did something happen?”
He wouldn’t look at her, and when he spoke there was a hard edge to his voice. “I had hoped to be gone before you made it back. I’m leaving.”
Beige cocked her head. “I can see that, but for where?”
“Doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know.” He nodded to the driver and turned for the door of the carriage.
She stepped in front of him, focusing on him with one eye. “You’re not making any sense! Will you be gone long? Why are you leaving?”
He sighed and pushed her out of the way. He wasn’t rough, but he lacked the gentle touch she’d come to know and expect. “I’m not putting up with it anymore, alright? I’m gone.”
“Putting up with...?” She bowed her head, trying to wrap her skull around his words. Since when had he become so indirect? Why couldn’t he just tell her what he was doing? Beige would have to tell Pipette something, and besides that, she needed to… to…
She felt something akin to a thunderclap in her mind. She snatched Chip by his tail, jerked him back out of the carriage and spun him around. “Chip! What are you doing? I am your wife and you’re going to talk to me!”
It was as if a switch had been flicked in his skull; he pressed his face to hers and pushed. She backpedaled, heart leaping into her throat and wings spreading to hold her shaky balance. His eyes burned with something she’d never seen before in him, except maybe when he looked at Doctor Whooves. To see that ferocity aimed at herself put her at a loss for what to say or think.
“I don’t have to tell you a damn thing,” he snarled, stomping forward as she retreated, his head ever-pressed against hers. “I don’t care enough. I’m going away, I’m not telling you where to, and I am not coming back!”
Her balance twisted and she tripped, falling through their gate and onto her back. She shrank back as he loomed over her, his horn flashing and steam rising from his nostrils. “Ch-Chip, I don’t understand!”
He snorted and tossed his mane. “Can’t say I’m surprised, Derpy.”
Her breath caught in the knot that was her throat. She’d heard so many ponies call her that, but never Chip. Not only did he use it, he used it like a weapon, stabbing the syllables into her gut and strangling her with the mockery. A lone eye took in his vicious visage as the other jerked wildly about. “Y-you… I…”
Awareness was dawning, but she fought it back. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. There’d been no warning! He’d kissed her and snuggled and teased her before bed just last night! He was a loving husband. A loving father. “Ch-Chip…?” She reached out, silently begging him to take her trembling hoof.
“I didn’t marry a freak,” he grumbled, turning away from her. “Keep the dumb kid. This isn’t what I signed up for.”
And he was gone. Just like that. He entered the carriage, its door closed, and Crunchy Chip, her husband of three years, disappeared from her life.
For a time, she simply lay in the dirt, staring at where he’d stood with one wide, unblinking eye. Her mind swirled about with questions. What had just happened? Why would Chip be so mean? Was this even supposed to make sense?
Comprehension settled upon her gradually, trickling along to make a stream that filled her mind more and more with each passing second. Still, she failed to fully grasp it. At last, she climbed to her hooves. She looked about the yard, fully expecting Chip to be next to her. When he wasn’t, she turned and walked inside.
The house seemed so… bare. A large portion of the furniture had disappeared, along with some of the décor. The kitchen table remained, along with a number of essentials, but everything that had ever belonged to Chip? Gone. She turned a circle in the middle of the living room, her body wobbling from a lack of balance. She felt as though she were in a dream, numb and lost.
Beige stepped into her room. The sheets of the bed had been taken. The lamps, all the contents of the bookshelf, her favorite rug, even the pillows. All gone. She took in the bed and the two pony-shaped indentions. Looking at those left a cold feeling in her chest, so she turned away.
Slowly, mind still foggy, she entered Pipette’s room. This place, at least, had been untouched. Pipette lay sleeping in her crib, tiny legs wrapped around a plush ursa. Quietly, Beige approached and rested her chin on the edge of the crib to watch her baby’s soft, quiet breathing. How cute she appeared, with that one tuft of mane waving back and forth from her breath, and her lips fumbling around the doll’s ear. The sight brought a shaking smile to Beige’s lips.
Steadily, reality sank in, and with it came the tears. She kept it down to mere sniffling, even as her heart shattered and begged for her to explode.
But Beige didn’t lose herself. As heavy as she felt, as much as her soul ached, as desperate as she was for somepony to tell her this was a nightmare, she did not succumb to despair. Instead, a single question burned in the back of her mind, repeating itself over and over again: why?
“There were no signs,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke Pipette’s mane. “He never appeared unhappy. We were struggling, yeah, but he smiled so much, and… and he kept encouraging me when I was at my worst. He loved me. Loved you.” She pulled her hoof back and squeezed her eyes shut, letting her tears run down her face. “So why? Why abandon us when we can barely get by as it is? Why would he suddenly be so… cold?”
Her eyes popped open as an idea struck: it was sudden. But not just Chip’s behavior.
Everything.
Her balance going crazy. Her eyes messing up.
Her career, over.
Her education, gone.
Even her sudden discovery and newfound love of muffins had hit her with an unexplainable abruptness. She felt like a plaything to some powerful deity, all her hopes and interests disappearing at the dismissive wave of a hoof. The mages had all said there was a magic settled upon her, but she’d always cast it aside as nonsense. She dictated her own existence.
But what if that wasn’t true?
Her left eye gravitated towards the window. The window, through which the sunlight gave the room a gentle glow. She walked over to study the cloudy sky. The sun barely peeked out from an opening above, half-blinding her.
Everypony knew: Celestia and Luna were the most powerful ponies in the world. If they couldn’t prove Beige’s fears accurate, nopony could.
Everypony knocked to go in. Why did everypony knock to go in? It was a library. A public location for use by all. Yes, the librarian happened to live in the library, but if she kept her living arrangements separate from the library space, did it matter?
All these thoughts ran through Beige’s head as, despite them, she knocked on the solid oak door. She walked in place, just to give her hooves something to do. It also served to make her focus on her balance, a serious challenge that came with the added benefit of not letting her think about Chip’s hateful gaze. She’d seen it constantly all day and night.
She kept trotting. She would not think about him. Don’t let the pain win. She was one stray thought away from a breakdown, and she couldn’t let that happen. Her Little Pipette needed her to be strong. She needed her to be strong.
At last, the door opened. Spike looked up at her with a disarming, pleasant smile. “Hey, Derpy. What’s up?”
She ignored the name. She couldn’t focus on a name. Stay strong. Don’t panic. Don’t snap!
“I-is Miss Sparkle in?” The world twisted in wildly different directions as she lost control of her eyes for a moment. “Please tell me she’s in.”
“Uh, yeah. Come on in.” She hurried inside, expending energy, trying not to think about anything but her goal. “Are you okay? You look kinda, well, skittish.”
“I’m fine, just fine!” She nearly hit the floor, but saved herself at the last second. The corners of her lips were pulled so far apart they ached. “Just facing a major personal catastrophe and trying to stave off madness. No big deal. Could you please get Miss Sparkle now?”
“Oookay.” He backed away from her, claws raised as if to ward her off. “I’ll just… go get Twilight for you. Stay right here and, uh, don’t go crazy?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She waved, nearly collapsing as she did. “I’ll just… wait h-here. Alone. Thinking about things. Things I don’t wanna think about.”
Spike retreated upstairs, and Beige forced one eye to focus on the bookshelves all around her. She giggled and had no idea why. She reviewed book titles only to realize that she was in the science section and didn’t understand most of the words.
“S-science. Science is boring. Right.”
She hurried away to the young fantasy section. Much less familiar. Much less Beige. She looked over the titles, but didn’t read any of them. She trotted back and forth before the same row a half-dozen times, giggling and blinking rapidly. Why did her eyes sting? Stupid eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid-don’t-think-about-eyes.
“Derpy? Are you okay?”
“Miss Sparkle!” She spun around too quickly and teetered wildly to the left. “Just the pony I needed to… to… hold on.” A few more seconds of desperate balancing at last kept her on her hooves. Not pausing for a breath, she tilted her head to take in the fidgeting librarian and grinned. “Y-you’re the Element of Magic, right? I bet you can do anything!”
Twilight cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow for good measure. “Uh, are you alright? You look a little—”
“Skittish? I know!” Laughter burst from Beige’s throat, much louder than she’d intended. She took a couple wobbly steps forward. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, just fine. If you could just help me with your super awesome Element of Magic thingamawhatsit, I would really appreciate it.”
At this, Twilight smiled and shook her head. Placing a hoof to her chest, she said, “That’s actually a very common mistake. I’m not the Element of Magic, that’s in Canterlot. I just represent what Magic entails. I can’t really—”
Beige pressed her muzzle to Twilight's, left eye twitching as the other rolled towards Spike’s hiding spot at the top of the stairs. “Close enough for me. Just tell me you can help!”
“W-well, if you’d tell me what’s wrong?” Twilight backed away, but Beige followed closely, her one eye focused on the librarian’s. “I can’t help if I don’t know what you’re after.”
“Right, right, how silly of me.” Beige giggled and dropped to her haunches, rocking back so far she almost fell. “I’m cursed. I mean, I’ve got to be cursed. Get rid of my curse.”
“Cursed?” Twilight groaned and rolled her eyes. Her voice became monotone. “I’m sorry, Derpy, but there’s no such thing as curses.”
There’s-that-name-don’t-think-about-the-name-don’t—“Don’t tell me that!” Beige tried to jump up, but her hind legs seemed to ignore her commands. She barely kept from smacking her muzzle against the hardwood floor. “I’m cursed, you see?” She pointed at her eyes with one hoof and let them swirl on their own for a few seconds before giggling some more. “It’s the only explanation. So… So magic it off of me. Come on, chop chop.”
“I think what you need is a doctor,” Twilight replied in an annoyed tone.
“Doctors, doctors, doctors, doctors can’t help!” Beige waved her hooves at Twilight. “But magic, magic can help! I know magic can help, everypony knows magic solves everything.”
Twilight rubbed her temples with both hooves, her eyes closed tight. “I know ponies get that idea, but it doesn’t work that way. Now listen, Derpy, what I—”
“Beige!”
She felt something snap, or at least she thought she did. She grabbed Twilight by the shoulders and shook her violently. “Beige, Beige, my name is Beige. It’s Beige Beaker, not Derpy or Ditzy or anything, Beige Beaker! My daughter is not Dinky, it’s Pipette, and she’s adorable and now I have to take care of her on a mailmare’s salary when I’m supposed to be a… a…”
She fell back from Twilight, not bothering to wipe the burning tears from her eyes. She pressed her hooves to her skull and sobbed. “I’m a chemist. I’m a chemist! I’m not some stupid, clumsy mare for everypony to laugh at! I was making agricultural clouds. Everything was amazing and then my eyes, my stupid stupid eyes!”
She hit herself a few times and let out a furious cry.
“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t hurt anypony. I devoted eight years to study and I can’t remember any of it! And I can’t walk straight or fly and I’ll never take my filly flying and oh Celestia I wanted to show her what it’s like and hear her laughing in the wind and now she’ll be forever stuck on the ground because her mommy is a freak and everypony’s laughing at me and my husband… Chip… Oh Celestia, Chip…”
She lay on the floor and curled into a ball, head and face hidden behind her forelegs. “Please. P-please. I was a good wife, wasn’t I? Chip, please. Come back. C-come back. I can’t do this on my own.”
Beige couldn’t bring herself to do anything save lay there and weep. She probably appeared insane, but what did that matter? Her life was over. Her last frayed hope had snapped and only misery remained. She kept seeing Chip’s hard glare, Doctor Whooves’ pitying gaze, Pipette’s confused expression. Perhaps she could just die here, shrivel up and sink into the floorboards and disappear. Pipette would be sad at first, but she’d find a new family, a better one than her broken, stupid, wall-eyed mother.
She felt something touching her head. Fearing what might be next, she peered between her forelegs. Twilight sat beside her, eyes downcast as she rubbed a hoof through Beige’s mane. The librarian said nothing, and Beige made no attempt to speak. She simply accepted the tiny comfort for what it was and let her tears flow.
It took time for her to regain control, and even when she did, she stayed down. Twilight didn’t leave, and after a while even asked Spike to fix them some lunch. He came back with some sandwiches, and only after a lot of urging did Beige finally allow herself to be herded to a nearby table. She didn’t feel hungry, but Twilight insisted. Did she somehow know Beige skipped breakfast? The sandwich offered no taste she could detect through her despair, and she pushed the plate away after eating less than half of it.
She stared at the table and wondered if they’d hold a funeral for Beige. After all, she didn’t seem to exist anymore. Would Beige even get that dignity, or would she just be forgotten? Swept away like so much debris, unwanted and left behind. Only Derpy would remain, the clown, the clutz, the pony to be mocked. Never important, never worth anything save a few seconds of slapstick. And who would remember that she’d had a daughter?
Would even Pipette forget?
She cringed and held her hooves against her heart. Goddess, it hurt. It hurt so much. But… If it was better for her Little Piper, then…
“Beige?”
Her ears perked. She cocked her head, centering an eye on Twilight. The librarian looked right at her, attentive and concerned.
Beige managed a feeble smile. “Y-you remembered my name.”
Twilight returned the smile, but only for a moment. She spoke slowly, carefully, as if wary Beige might break down again. “I don’t know if I can help you, okay? I want that to be clear. But if you tell me everything, I’ll do my best. I promise.”
A wave of relief washed over Beige, and she promptly started her story. She spoke of the crash months ago, how her eyes ‘broke,’ and the steady loss of her education. She remembered getting fired and the constant, daily struggle just to learn how to walk. She broke down a time or two, but Twilight never rushed her or acted annoyed. She encouraged Beige to keep talking, and when she froze up, to drink or eat a little more. And Beige obliged without complaint because, finally, somepony appeared to be listening.
“Wow,” Twilight whispered, her hoof resting on Beige’s shoulder. “That’s… wow. You’ve had a rough year.”
“And none of it makes sense,” Beige whispered, rubbing her hooves together. “The crash didn’t cause my eyes to go crazy or my balance to disappear. My schooling can’t have just… gone away. And Chip…” She squeezed her eyes tight and willed herself not to cry anymore. “There was no warning. No signs at all. He just… he just left.”
She turned an eye to Twilight. “Now do you see? It’s not natural. It can’t be. It’s got to be magic.”
Twilight chewed her lip as she thought. After a few seconds, she sighed. “I’ll admit, it’s all really fishy. I knew about the school having to close down, but I had no idea you were employed there, and I should have. I suppose it’s possible that something’s happened. I’ll do a magic sweep. I can’t imagine why the other mages got no results, but I do know a few of the more obscure things to look for. Maybe they overlooked a symptom. I won’t promise that I’ll find anything.”
“You will. I’m sure you will. If you don’t, I…” She bowed her head, unable to finish that sentence. If Twilight found nothing, she had no idea what she’d do. “It has to be magic. It just has to.”
“Alright, stand up, please.” Twilight waited patiently while Beige climbed to her hooves. “This will only take a second. You won’t even feel it.”
Beige closed her eyes tight and silently begged that magic would provide an answer. This had to lead to a solution. Chip didn’t abandon her because she was repulsive and stupid. He left because something made him, because she had some curse. She wasn’t a bad wife, and he wasn’t a bad husband. She repeated it to herself over and over again, forcing herself to believe it. Even as the quiet sound of Twilight’s magic met her ears, she didn’t stop thinking it with all her concentration.
Chip would come back. They’d solve this problem and he’d return, apologetic and as wonderful as the day they’d met. Pipette would have a father, her mother would go back to being a chemist, and her eyes would be straight again.
A gasp brought her up short. Her eyes popped open, but it took a moment to center one on Twilight. The librarian’s eyes were wide like dinner plates, her pupils small like the tips of quills. Her entire body had gone rigid as she stared at Beige, the color flooding from her cheeks.
“You found something.” A bubbly giddiness swelled within Beige's chest, making her feel as if she would burst. She began to prance in place, at least until the act brought her close to falling. “I can see it, you found something. You found something!” She gave a gleeful cry and laughed. At last, she had proof! It had been a long shot, and she’d not really believed it, but it had, and now they could do something about it! “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Spike stood on his toes and waved a claw before Twilight’s face. “What’s wrong, Twilight?”
Twilight flinched and shook her head. After a few quick glances between Spike and Beige, she cleared her throat and sat, tail tucked tight around her hooves. “Spike, I’m sorry, but could you give Der—Beige and me a moment? Please?”
Spike opened his mouth, but a wide-eyed, pleading look from Twilight brought him up short. With his tail in his claws, he nodded and stepped out, giving Beige one last look of concern before disappearing in the main room.
Beige’s wings flapped and she gave a little bounce. “So what did you—” The world spun sideways and she careened forward, landing on her chest. She laughed and let her legs splay out as she cast an eye to Twilight. “What’d did you find? How soon can I be cured?”
Rubbing her leg, Twilight wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Beige, I never thought I’d say this to anypony, but...” Her ears folded back as her eyes glazed over, but the lost look faded quickly. “You should drop this.”
It took a moment for the response to register. Beige’s eye twitched. “Come again?”
Twilight shrank back, her voice becoming small. “Drop it. Please.”
Seconds passed. Silence hovered in the air like a nasty claw. Beige tried to think of something to say, but her mind was blank as the words echoed over and over again in her skull. At last, she muttered, “Don’t tell me that.”
“Beige—”
“No!” She moved forward and caught Twilight’s cheeks, forcing her to look into one of her eyes. “I can’t drop it! My life is ruined, you found something, now tell me how to fix it. I know there’s a way to fix it, and you’re going to tell me.”
“But I can’t—”
“Don’t tell me you can’t!”
“I’m not allowed to, okay?” Twilight squeezed her eyes closed and turned away. “Please, I can’t. Yes, I know what it is. I never thought I’d see it again, but you’ve got it and… and I’m not allowed to fight it. I don’t think I could if I tried.”
Beige tried to get in front of her, but Twilight still wouldn’t look at her. “I don’t understand. Who won’t let you do it? Why?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Beige bristled. She suddenly wanted to hurt somepony, and her hooves scraped against the floor. “Yes, I do. My life has been turned upside down by some… some jerk and you tell me they won’t let you fix it? I want to know who so I can at least get a reason!”
“Nopony did this to you,” Twilight countered, finally daring to look her in the eye. “You’ll never find the culprit in Equestria. You’re threatening something that’s beyond mere ponies.”
“I don’t care! They did this to—” Her balance tipped just as Beige raised her hooves, and she promptly fell forward. Twilight yelped and caught her, the two of them toppling to the floor together.
Twilight tried to get up, but Beige wrapped her legs around the pony and held on tightly. Her body quaked as a desperate, primal urge wormed its way into her head. She couldn’t give up. Not when she was so close! The answers were here. Twilight had them! If she could just hold on...
“Please,” she whispered, burying her face in Twilight’s mane. “Please, Twilight. I didn’t do anything. I deserve answers. Don’t leave me to be forgotten, to be replaced by this… this fake! I’m Beige. I’m a chemist. My daughter is Pipette, and my husband is Chip. Don’t tell me that has to go away without at least telling me why.”
Twilight said nothing. Was she considering? Maybe she was waiting for Beige to realize the truth: her life was over. Perhaps. Beige denied it with every ounce of her will. It couldn't be over. Twilight could solve the problem. She’d help.
But as time went on, that little voice of confidence faded. Replacing it was a cruel, bitter one that mocked her for ever thinking she’d had a chance. Who was she to make demands? Nothing but a pathetic, wall-eyed reject. Even her own husband couldn’t stand the sight of her, and she expected Twilight to help? How desperate could she be?
Even that voice faded with time. Beige’s mind grew devoid of anything save the scowl of Chip and the lost eyes of Pipette. She never let go of Twilight, only held on tightly. For what reason, she couldn’t say. Perhaps she just needed somepony to hold.
At last, Twilight broke the silence. “Beige?”
She didn’t answer. What did somepony say in the face of their own doom?
Nonetheless, Twilight continued. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. I swear to you, there is nothing to be done.”
A numbness drifted over Beige. She couldn’t acknowledge Twilight’s words. She could hardly think. Except, perhaps, for a small desire to be with Pipette for what little time she had left as herself. But even that seemed beyond her. She felt as if she’d never have the strength to do anything ever again.
“I can’t help you.” Twilight stroked Beige’s mane lightly. “But… you’re right. You do deserve to know. In that alone, I can at least point you in the right direction.”
Her words sank in slowly. Beige wiped her eyes clean and stared up at the librarian. “Y-you can?”
“I shouldn’t.” Twilight closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “I really shouldn’t. It won’t do any good, and I might get into trouble. But I can’t just let this happen. I can’t stay on the sidelines, even if that’s what it’ll amount to in the end.” Her smile was forced, but at least she tried. “So yes. I’ll do this. It’s… it’s all I have to offer.”
Beige gazed at her for a long time as she digested this decision. Finally, she let her head rest on Twilight’s shoulder once more. It didn’t sound like much, but the spark of hope hadn’t died quite yet. There was a chance. A small one, perhaps, but she would take anything over guaranteed condemnation.
Beige sat. It was all she could manage. Her stomach was tied in knots, and she couldn’t get her eyes to focus on anything. She feared to move one step, knowing that she would end up breaking something by her mere presence.
Beige had never been to Canterlot. She’d had no need to go. Now she sat in a vast waiting room, the arched ceiling making her feel minuscule. Marble pillars, golden molding, fantastic tapestries, colorful glass windows, the cavernous room was everything she might have expected from Canterlot Castle.
Twilight paced back and forth, her hooves quiet on the carpeted floor. She had a lock of her mane in her mouth that she chewed on incessantly, but that didn’t stop her mumbling. Beige wanted to calm her down, but couldn’t bring herself to try. She herself was bundle of jittery nerves and knocking knees. She tried to hold it off by thinking of Pipette, currently enjoying a couple nights at “Uncle” Whooves’ house. Even that proved difficult, as her mind kept wandering to worse and worse things.
She was hungry. Hungry for muffins. She’d wanted one ever since they’d boarded the train in Ponyville. Why? Where did this… obsession come from? It wasn’t just a craving anymore, it was a need. A need to not only eat them, but to bake them, to share them, to decorate her house with them, to get a cupcake-themed doormat and maybe have her name officially changed. It was all so… so stupid and delectable and horrible. Horrible more than anything, because Beige couldn’t shake the sense that something was playing with her mind. She felt like a marionette being pulled around by an invisible puppeteer.
Muffins. Muffins, muffins, muffins. She hated muffins, even as a squeaky voice in the back of her head gleefully declared her love for them.
She wrapped her legs about herself and shivered. Would Pipette even recognize her when she got back?
The great double doors opened, bringing them both to a pause. A middle-aged unicorn mare, her mane in a bun and glasses perched on her muzzle, stepped out. “Twilight? Miss Hooves? The princess will see you now.”
Beige blinked; Miss Hooves? Was that supposed to be her? She was certain Twilight had said the right name.
“Thank you, Raven.” Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest and extended it outwards as she exhaled slowly. She repeated this a couple more times, and by the end of the third the tension in her posture had gone out a little. “Are you ready, Beige?”
“Is anypony ever ready to meet a princess?” she replied, her voice sounding frail in her ears. Even so, she slipped off her seat and walked her zig-zagging way to Twilight’s side. She reminded herself, over and over again, that the princess would have the answer to all her problems. After all, she was Celestia. There was nothing she couldn’t do.
Beige repeated that idea to herself. She tried so hard to believe it.
As they approached the door together, Twilight whispered, “Don’t worry. Celestia’s the nicest pony ever.”
Then why had she been pacing so much?
The throne room seemed to stretch on forever, illuminated by pale chandeliers of silver and prismatic light shining through stained glass windows. Beige paused just past the door, her mouth agape as she took in the colossal, empty room. It all felt so… big. Was it really okay for her to be here? She swiftly checked her hooves, momentarily fearing she might dirty this remarkable place. A silly notion, considering how far they’d travelled while indoors – truly, the castle was huge.
Twilight came to a stop a few steps away, just noticing her lack of a partner. She looked back, eyebrows raised in concern. “Beige?”
Ears folded back, Beige followed. Her legs shook, which only served to slow her progress. Twilight waited patiently, and when they were side by side she even set a leg over her shoulder for guidance. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
They walked on, Beige mostly managing to keep her weight off of Twilight. Every now and then her balance would try to send her careening in a random direction, but Twilight kept her firmly on track regardless. Even so, Beige imagined she looked like a stumbling fool. A pony like her didn’t deserve to be in the presence of—
“Welcome back, Twilight Sparkle. It is always good to see you.”
Beige’s throat constricted. She fell to her haunches. Neither of her eyes were aimed right, and she didn’t bother forcing them. Good goddess, that voice was beautiful.
“Princess Celestia.” Twilight took a bow. “Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice.”
Bow. Beige should bow. Fear gripped her, but she tried to bring her chin towards the ground. She got only halfway before the world twisted and she landed on her face. She didn’t even grunt; she just lay there, feeling like trash.
“Oh, dear.” The concern in that glorious voice made her want to melt into the floor and never be seen again. “Is your friend all right?”
Beige couldn’t see Twilight through her tightly closed eyes, but she could imagine the hesitant look on her face. Or perhaps it was dismay at Beige’s clumsiness? That would be appropriate. Beige certainly felt mortified.
“No.” Twilight helped her up. Beige refused to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see the amusement in Celestia’s gaze. “Princess, let me introduce you to Beige Beaker of Ponyville.”
“Beige? But I thought her name was—”
Twilight must have silenced her with a gesture. “It’s Beige Beaker. She is a chemist, and her husband was named Chip. She has a young foal, a unicorn named Pipette too young even for magic kindergarten. She has… something to ask you.”
“Of course. I would be delighted to answer your friend’s question.”
A long pause. Oh no, they were waiting on her, weren’t they? Beige whimpered, body swaying as her balance underwent another small shift. She tried opening her mouth, but only managed to release a bit of air.
“It’s okay,” Twilight whispered. “Take your time.”
She swallowed, but still her throat was dry. Even so, she managed to get her words out. “P-Princess Cel-lestia. It is an h-honor to meet you. I… I… um…”
When she failed to continue, Celestia’s lovely caress of a voice reached her ears. “Won’t you open your eyes, Miss Beaker? I promise, you won’t go blind from looking at me.”
How playful her tone was. Beige was even tempted to believe it, and somehow the blanket pressing on her mind seemed to lift. Not completely, and not enough to stop the vibrations in her knees, but enough to at least let her focus. Gradually, dreading what may come of it, she allowed her eyes to open. She considered turning her head, but no, that seemed disrespectful. So instead she kept her face aimed towards that serendipitous voice and focused on her right eye.
With painstaking slowness, it moved towards the throne. Thus did she behold Celestia a little at a time: the golden throne fit only for royalty, the impossibly glorious mane in its multihued beauty, the pearly coat with the faintest touch of pink. Last but most certainly not least, a gentle, kind face that spoke of patience, wisdom and truth. Beige stared upon the face of goodness and, despite her cynicism of the stories, imaged her heart weighed a little less.
Celestia’s smile turned playful, and Beige thought she might giggle. “There, I’m not so ugly, now am I?”
The high was choked out of Beige by her heart stuffing her throat. “I… I-I didn’t mean to imply—”
Her stammering apology ended at Celestia’s light, bubbling laughter. “I was only teasing, Miss Beaker! You remind me of Twilight; so easy to toy with.”
“Hey!” Twilight’s scowl disappeared in an instant as she stammered, “I don’t… I’m not that easy to…” She huffed at Celestia’s giggle, sitting and crossing her hooves. “Alright, alright.” Her cocked smile defied her tone.
And, to Beige’s surprise, she smiled too. She kept the one eye focused upon Celestia and tried to relax. Now that the talking had begun, it proved much easier.
Celestia’s gentle gaze settled upon her, and she instinctively straightened. “Now, my dear student tells me you have a request of a personal nature. Twilight isn’t one to ask my assistance in such things, so I imagine it must be of great importance. Tell me, Miss Beaker, what is it you seek?”
Beige opened her mouth to respond, but found no words. Not from embarrassment or fear or uncertainty, but from the simple fact that she had no answer. She looked to Twilight, who had crouched low and stared at the carpet as if it might protect her. Her eye twitched and she stared at her hooves, but even so she gestured to Beige. “J-just… um… do a simple magic scan.”
Celestia glanced at her, lips pursed in a thoughtful expression, then refocused on Beige. “Very well, then.”
Beige tensed as that ivory horn began to shine dimly. Her heart rate had only just started to pick up when the aura winked out and the princess sucked in a sharp breath. She couldn’t have done more than a brief touch, but already her expression turned hard as stone. She remained silent for some time, and Beige squirmed under those burning eyes.
“Twilight.” The name cut the air like steel. “You promised.”
Twilight waved her hooves wildly. “I didn’t tell her anything, I swear!”
The princess’s eyes narrowed. Beige didn’t understand just what Twilight had risked to bring her here, but the sight of those eyes forced her to speak out before her sense of self-preservation could get in the way. “She’s telling the truth. I don’t know what’s going on.”
Those eyes settled on her, and Beige abruptly wished she’d never come here. If eyes could harm, she suspected Celestia’s would be turning her into a puddle of melted pony goo right about now. But Twilight had taken a clear risk, and though she shrank down to the floor and let her eyes roll away from Celestia, Beige forced the explanation out of her clenched throat. “I c-came to Twilight because I was d-desperate. B-because I think I’m cursed. She cast the same spell and t-tried to make me give up. I can’t give up. I can’t! Twilight didn’t want to bring me here, b-but, but—”
“Enough.”
“But—!”
A gold-clad hoof slammed to the floor, the sound echoing through the empty throne room. “Enough.”
She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes closed. Whatever will she might have had left abandoned her, and so she trembled on the floor with hooves over her face. The princess wouldn’t help her. Had denied her offhoof! Her last, greatest hope ripped away before she’d even had a chance to explain. Why had she even dared to try? It had been foolish of her to think that the great and wise Celestia would indulge such a pathetic excuse of a pony.
“Twilight.” Celestia’s voice regained is soft tone. “How bad?”
“I’ve only known one pony who has had it worse.”
“…I see.”
Maybe she should just slink away now. Celestia had probably already forgotten she existed. Perhaps she could crawl over to one of those windows and… and jump. Would they even notice? When her balance went haywire and her wings failed, would anypony try to slow her descent? Or would they watch her plummet? Beige could see it in her mind’s eye, the inescapable fall, the slow awareness of her coming death, and the ponies below watching. Would they watch? Maybe she wasn’t even worth that much.
Just a worthless smear on the pavement, observed only so long as was required to wash the scum away.
She yelped as something touched her shoulder, and Beige jerked her head up. Through one burning, blurry eye she beheld Celestia, standing before her with a hoof on her shoulder.
“Forgive me, Miss Beaker,” the Princess said. “I was startled and reacted poorly. I did not mean to frighten you so.”
Beige barely managed to lift her leg to wipe the tears from her eyes. Once her vision cleared, she saw a smile on that regal face and a gaze that begged for understanding. Beige bowed her head once more. “I-I’m sorry to have bothered you with my…” She almost said ‘petty concerns,’ but could not bring herself to belittle her problems so, not out loud. She shifted her head to look at the window. Just a few quick steps. Maybe she should apologize for breaking the glass first.
“Tell me your story.”
She blinked, then looked to Celestia once more. “What?”
Celestia sat back, her smile diminishing to something less warm and more melancholy. “I have an idea of what is affecting you, Miss Beaker, but I cannot know the how. I understand if it is difficult, but please, explain what is happening. I will listen.”
Though fragile and anxious, hope returned to Beige’s heart, and so she spoke. She told everything she knew, from her crash to her firing, from the heartbreak of knowing she’d never fly again to the sleepless night spent sobbing over her lost husband. Celestia asked few questions, mostly listening intently. Her sad expression only grew more so as the story went on. She almost broke down once or twice, but she held it in. Maybe because she’d already explained it once. Maybe because she was running out of tears.
By the time she concluded her story, Celestia appeared grim. Her brow furrowed, her eyes peered at something beyond Beige’s awareness, and her wings had set into a half-opened, tense position. She looked to Beige as somepony preparing for a terrible battle. She remained like this for some time. Beige fidgeted and waited, not sure if she was meant to say anything more.
After some time, Twilight appeared with a glass of water. Beige couldn’t be certain when she had gone to get it, but her throat proved grateful for her gift. She’d not realized how dry it had become until that moment.
Abruptly, a shiver of motion ran through Celestia, as if she’d been struck by electricity. Beige watched with a cocked head as the tremor seemed to move from the Princess’s flanks to her muzzle and back. As soon as it passed, she turned her attention fully upon Beige, her sorrowful frown returning. “That is… quite the story, Miss Beaker. It may not be the worst I have heard from a pony facing your condition, but it is indeed one to be remembered.” She turned her face away. “I fear it will not be.”
Beige rose, her ears perking as a wave of ice washed over her. “W-what does that mean? Is everypony going to forget who I am?” The chill intensified as another thought struck her. “W-will even I forget?”
Celestia didn’t look at her, instead turning her eyes to her student. “Twilight, I apologize. I understand now why you brought her here. You have done no harm, and I should not have doubted you.”
“It’s alright, Princess,” Twilight replied, her own eyes on the floor. “I knew you wouldn’t approve… at first.”
“Princess Celestia?” Beige waited until she turned to her once more. “Please. If there is anything you can do, please help me. I don’t want to lose who I am.”
“I understand, my little pony.” Celestia opened her mouth, but for a time no sound escaped her. She closed it once more and licked her lips. Her jaw tensed and her brow furrowed as if she were struggling with herself, but at last she spoke. “But I fear I cannot help you.”
The words crashed upon Beige’s head. She wobbled, almost fell on her side. She felt as if there was no floor at all, and she was falling through a void. Her heart throbbed, her breath hitched. “W-what do you mean?”
Yet again, Celestia turned her face away. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “There is no pony, no griffon or minotaur or zebra, no creature that walks upon this world that can undo what is being done.”
“B-but… but you’re a princess. An alicorn!” Beige stepped closer, her heart thumping against her chest and her world spinning. “You can do so much. Anything! With you… You were supposed to be able to help me.”
“I am so very sorry, but I cannot.”
“No! You can! You—” The world, already shifting wildly through her swirling eyes, lurched in an entirely new direction. Beige made no attempt to adjust for the sudden shift in balance, letting herself fall hard on her shoulder.
“Beige!”
Twilight moved to help, but Beige shoved her away and crawled on her belly. “You have to help me! I can’t be like this! I can’t support my Pipette as a retarded cripple!” She grasped one of those slender, pale legs in a tight hold and pressed her wet cheek to it. “Please. I’ll do anything! My name is Beige Beaker, and I don’t want to die like this! If you can’t help me, if you can’t fix one pathetic, wretched, desperate pony, what good are you?”
Celestia’s soft voice could barely be heard over her sobs. “I understand your fears. I do. But if I could not save my own sister from this, how could I ever hope to save you?”
Sister? Beige choked down her tears and looked upon Celestia’s gloomy countenance. “P-Princess Luna?”
The Princess knelt down, her wings engulfing Beige in a tight hug that took her breath away. “I cannot help you, Miss Beaker. The only advice I can give is for you to go home and be with your daughter. There is no telling what this curse will do to you next, and you will want to be with her as long as possible.”
That was it, then. Beige had exhausted her last hope. She leaned against the Princess, eyes wide and mind numb. She had nothing left to offer, not even tears. Ponies would call her Derpy from now on. Chip would never come back. She’d spend the rest of her life delivering mail to ponies with less than half the education she couldn’t even remember. And every few minutes she’d stumble and fall, and everypony would point and laugh.
It all seemed so wretchedly pointless. It shouldn’t be pointless.
Closing her eyes, Beige dared to ask the last question on her mind. “Can you at least tell me why?” She pulled away and turned her head, looking the Princess directly in the eye. “Please. If I’m not going to remember anything anyway, tell me what’s happening to me. Can’t I know that much before I… disappear?”
Celestia bit her lip. “I…”
After a prolonged pause, Twilight approached. With a concerned gaze, she said, “I think she deserves that much. Don’t you?”
A lengthy look at Twilight, then Celestia focused on Beige, who sighed and closed her eyes. She just felt so… tired.
Beige did all as she’d been instructed. She spent the night in the castle, and her dreams were pleasant thanks to the interference of a certain Princess of the Night who asked no questions after her sister took her aside to explain things behind closed doors. Indeed, Princess Luna said little at all to Beige in the very brief time they’d been in the same room together. The most contact she offered was a lone, long stare that could only be defined as heartbroken.
That morning she awoke refreshed and ate what had to be the largest breakfast she’d ever seen. Every scrap and crumb was consumed as Twilight looked on, insisting that she’d need every ounce of energy she could get. She’d then been taken to a room near the top of Canterlot Castle’s tallest tower, on a floor opened to the outside by colonnades. She tried not to gaze down at the city below, fearing a bout of ruined balance might send her tumbling at the worst possible time.
Celestia hit her with a barrage of spells, so many that it took nearly an hour. By the end her horn trailed a thin wisp of smoke and Beige felt a strange tingling from hoof to eartip. At the outer edges of her eyesight was a curious shading that made everything not directly in her line of sight a dark blue tinge. Sound reached her ears at a lower pitch that made Celestia’s and Twilight’s voices seem deeper, and all noise was overlaid by a constant buzzing static. Twilight assured her that every symptom was normal and would go away once the process had been completed.
At last, when the sun had nearly reached its zenith, Celestia declared her ready. Ready for what exactly, she’d still not explained. She only asked Beige to stand at the center of the tower and brace herself.
Beige looked at Celestia and Twilight simultaneously, her eyes aimed in perfectly opposing directions. Noting their worried expressions, she asked, “So… whatever is about to happen, it’s perfectly safe. Right?”
Twilight shifted from hoof to hoof. “The spell’s perfectly safe. It’s what happens afterwards that we can’t vouch for.”
Beige crushed whatever second thoughts dared peek out of the back of her mind. “So what happens after?”
“You will be alone,” Celestia replied. “Where you are going, we cannot follow. When the spell ends, you will return here… if they are kind.”
Her ears perked. “They? They who?”
Celestia and Twilight shared an indecipherable glance over her head.
“They.” Celestia pursed her lips as her horn emitted a dim glow. “I’m going to cast the spell now, Miss Beaker.”
“Okay.” She bowed her head and tried to calm her heart. Why did she feel as if she were about to jump off a cliff? “How will I know when—?”
The humming static went from a quiet background noise to an all-encompassing roar in an instant. Beige covered her ears and tried to cry out, but her own voice was drowned by the sound. The world quickly faded into a hideous mixture of white and black, like a million tiny dots battling for supremacy. The tower had disappeared, along with Celestia and Twilight. Panic struck as she lost all sense of direction and orientation, her four legs flailing wildly but touching nothing.
And then her rump hit solid ground. The static winked away, replaced a wall of black. For a time, she could only sit in the void and try to grasp what had just happened. An attempt to open her eyes revealed she’d never closed them; the darkness was real.
“P-Princess?” She turned her head one way, then another. Nothing but black met her gaze. “Twilight?” The void seemed to suck up her voice, leaving her with the feeling of being in a truly vast space.
Though Beige could feel the ground under her hindquarters, the complete blackness made her doubt her body. She gave the dark below a few trial taps, then rose to her hooves with strained caution. Her pulse steadied along with her breathing. “I… guess it worked.” Another look around prompted her to quietly add, “I hope so…”
There was a mechanical sound like a great switch being pulled, and a spotlight came on a short distance away. Beige’s ears perked as a massive, thin rectangle was illuminated within the pale beam. Colored a uniform grey, it towered some twenty feet over her head and sported a string of red numbers that bore no purpose she could identify. Just above the numbers were what appeared to be holes for a speaker.
Beige got only two steps closer before a loud voice struck her ears. “I’ve told you before that I don’t like this kind of thing. It’s cliché.”
Confusion kept Beige from answering before another light came on, revealing another rectangle. This one was a soft blue and sported a different number, but was otherwise perfectly identical.
This voice was feminine. “She wanted to come. Why stop her?”
A third rectangle appeared, dark red and accompanied by a grim yet young voice. “Oh, please. You act as if these things can think.”
Beige retreated from the three… objects, only for her balance to betray her. She managed to land in a sitting position, but only barely. “W-what is going on?”
“I only want them to show some individuality,” the feminine voice countered. “You know, some character. It gets boring deciding everything for them all the time.”
“If we let them do their own thing, that’s just letting them live normal lives,” the first said. “In other words, exactly the kind of thing none of us are here for. Viewers want drama and action!”
The child-like voice piped in. “Or in this case, comedy.”
“What are you?” Beige shook her head and rubbed her ears, which rang from the noise of their loud voices. “Who are you? Hello?”
A fourth rectangle appeared, this one green and having the voice of an older male, patient and regal. “I still don’t like that we took away her ability to fly. What if we need her in the air, like Cloudsdale?”
“But it’s really not realistic to throw her balance out of whack and still let her fly, don’t you think?”
Another light, another rectangle. “I say she needs another kid. An older one.”
And another. “What possible purpose could that serve?”
“I dunno, might make for some good fanfiction?”
“So you’re just pulling stupid shit out your ass?”
“More or less.”
Beige wobbled in place, the voices a cascade in her skull. “N-not so loud.”
Another rectangle, this one with a whiny female voice. “Oh, oh, let’s make Luna fall in love with her! It’ll totally work!”
“Crackshipping. Pass.
“Besides, Luna belongs to Twilight.”
More rectangles were popping up by the second, a veritable forest of the colorful things babbling over one another. Beige covered her ears against the torrent of sound and closed her eyes. “S-stop. It’s too much. P-please…”
“Wouldn’t it be cool if she was secretly an awesome flier?”
“Pinkie and her need to get into a baking war.”
“Why does everyone insist LunaLight is a thing?”
“She still sounds too smart. I say we dumb her down more.”
“We don’t need Rainbow losing to the local retard.”
“Hey, I have an idea!”
“LunaLight OTP!!!”
“Hey, Governor, what’s up?”
“I still think Ditzy is better than Derpy.”
“Muffins vs. Cupcakes! Battle of the century!!!”
“If she did get with Luna, would we have to send her to the Moon at some point?”
“Lunalite SUX. TwiXie 4 the WINNAGE!!1!”
“Nobody wants to read your latest red ’n’ black alicorn story, dude.”
“Damn, one pony slips through and the builders blow up, amiright?”
“What if we made RD herself dumber? She can do stupid crap like imitate her friends in insulting ways.”
“Why do I still hang out with you morons?”
The voices smashed into her like a tsunami, overwhelming even her thoughts. Curled into a shivering ball, face buried behind her hooves, she began to sob as the racket pierced her eardrums.
“It’s alright.
“Hush. It’s okay, Beige. Just calm down.
“Come on. Come on. That’s it.”
At last, Beige realized the voice was aimed at her. The rush of noise had become just a background whispering, and she found she could at last hear her own thoughts. Rubbing the burning tears from her eyes, she raised her head.
The forest of colorful rectangles remained, as they’d always been. From the quiet rumbling, she suspected they were still going at it… whatever “they” and “it” were. Twisting her neck, she took in her surroundings once more… and yelped at the sight of one of the massive rectangles towering right behind her. This one was a pale grey and bore in its bright red numerals the number 000000006.
A gentle voice, almost motherly, graced her ears. “It’s alright, Beige. I’ve placed you in my domain for the time being. Sorry about the volume, they weren’t paying attention.”
“Wha— Wha-wha—” Beige pointed a trembling hoof at the thing, taking a few steps back. “W-what are you?”
The thing said nothing at first. At last, it replied in a hesitant voice, “They call me Wicked.”
Well, that name didn’t inspire any trust. Beige opened her mouth to ask another question, but paused. She tilted her head one way, then another. She turned it right, then left, then forward once more with a gasp. “M-my eyes. My eyes are fixed!”
“I thought you’d appreciate that,” Wicked replied lightly. “It’s pretty mean what they did to you. Not ‘Nightmare Moon’ mean, but still pretty mean.”
“They?” She blinked, then turned to stare at the rectangular forest. She was too busy trying to grasp this strange world to be angered by the revelation. “You mean those things messed up my eyes?”
“And your balance. And they made Chip hate you, too. And your job and your education. They’re still debating your name.”
That, on the other hoof, was enough to provoke her anger. “They did what? Why? What did I ever do to them?” The frustration only added to her confusion. She whipped around to face Wicked once more. “What are they? What are you? What gives you the right to screw with my life like that?!”
“Please calm down.”
“No, I will not calm down!” She spun to face the forest of arguing things once more. “Hey! Give me my life back! I’m a chemist, not a stupid mailmare! Do you hear me? Fix this or so help me—”
She’d been ready to charge her oppressors, but her legs abruptly locked up. Beige yelped and tilted forward, unable to shift her legs from their running pose, but then they moved of their own accord and carried her back to Wicked. Their motions were mechanical, and she could only stare at them with a sick feeling in her gut. When they stopped, she looked up at Wicked. “Did you do that?”
“I am sorry.” At least Wicked sounded sincere. “If you go too far, you’ll leave my domain and the volume will go back to what it was.”
She sat and wiggled her forelegs, relaxing as she found herself back in control. “Couldn’t you have just tugged on my tail or something? That was really uncomfortable.”
“Was it really?”
“Yes, it was!” Beige sat down and rubbed her shoulders, shivering as she did. “I’m in control. Me. You don’t get to decide what I do and don’t do. That’s… that’s wrong.”
Wicked was silent for some time. When she finally spoke, it was in a quiet, uncertain voice. “I don’t understand. How can you think that way?”
What kind of a question was that? “How would you like it if someone controlled your… your…” Beige paused to take in the giant rectangle before her. Her what? This thing called Wicked had no limbs. How was it even able to speak? “What are you?”
“I’m a Creator, of course.”
Beige’s ears folded back, and she shrank away from the massive thing. Her heart, which had only just gotten over her outburst, picked up its pace a little. “Y-you mean you’re a… a god?”
The rectangle emitted a long, drawn out hum. “I suppose from your perspective that would be accurate. I think a god would have a more interesting life than I do, though.”
A god. Beige was tempted to deny the admittance, but then, this was a being that even Celestia and Luna seemed to fear, and Beige had once thought them to be god-like. If this entity, and all those like it squabbling in the darkness beyond, could give the Royal Siblings pause, how was Beige to argue? But if that was true, then it meant that…
Slowly, her wings going limp, she turned to stare at the forest of rectangles beyond Wicked’s influence. “I don’t stand a chance, do I?”
Wicked asked curiously, “A chance at what?”
To be a chemist. To have a loving husband. To fly with her baby and make great improvements for Equestria and laugh at the Doctor’s antics and… to just be Beige Beaker. Her eyes burned with fresh tears. As her legs turned rubbery, she slowly let herself drop to her barrel and sobbed. “Why? W-why are you doing this? I just want to be me!”
“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand.” At least Wicked sounded sincere. “You are what we declared you to be. How can you want to be something else?”
Beige looked over her shoulder at the strange god, sniffing and rubbing her eyes. “But you changed who I was. What kind of monster gives a mare everything she wants only to take it all away?”
Once more, Wicked grew silent. When staring at it – her? – earned no answers, Beige turned her attention back to the mass of gods beyond. She strained her ears, trying to hear their conversations, but all she got was a convoluted mess. Now that she was paying attention, it seemed some had left, but others had newly arrived. Even now, she saw more of them appearing and disappearing in the dark. How did they manage to understand one another when so many spoke at once? It had to be maddening.
Then again, they were gods.
“You are the fourth one to come to us like this.”
Blinking, Beige turned back to Wicked. “I’m sorry?”
“Celestia. Discord. Luna. Now you.” Wicked’s tone had taken on a calm seriousness. “All claimed that they disliked the changes being forced upon them. It’s as if you were actually sapient.”
A fire bloomed in Beige’s chest. She climbed to her hooves and glared at the number on the great rectangle. “Don’t be insulting. We’re smart and opinionated and definitely, absolutely sapient. And we don’t like having our lives messed with as if we were toys for a bunch of overpowered children!”
“But you are.”
Whatever demand Beige had prepared in her mind vanished. Her ears folded once more and she took a cautious step closer. “W-what do you mean?”
“We made you, Beige,” Wicked said, as though she were a parent patiently explaining a complex concept to a child. “Your entire world. We created you so that our children could watch and be entertained by your actions. But there were certain things that needed to happen, things that weren’t developing on their own. Some among us decided to start pulling strings.”
“Like what?” Beige groused. “A klutz who can’t fly and who always walks into mailboxes?”
A strange, grunt-like sound emerged from Wicked, and Beige couldn’t help imagining a look of disgust on a pony’s face. “Actually, the things going on with you are because of a dumb mistake.”
Beige’s jaw dropped. “A mistake?”
“Yep.” With a sigh, Wicked explained, “There was a showing a while back where your eyes went derpy for a fraction of a second. The lazy lout manning the plot that day did it on accident. But lots of fans caught it and thought it was funny.”
A second passed. Another. “That’s it?” Beige pressed.
“That’s it.”
“You mean to tell me I lost my job, my career, my education, my respect and my husband because a bunch of five year olds thought it would be funny?” The very thought had her sucking down long gasps of air between bared teeth, and her wings had extended to their full width as she glared. “The ruination of my entire life, and maybe that of my foal’s, was for an in joke?”
A long pause. “Actually, they’re more like adult children. But yes.”
She raised her shaking hooves to her face, pressing them against her temples as she tried to comprehend this. But there could be no understanding. A joke. Her life was a joke. She threw back her head and screamed, just for the sake of giving her fury somewhere to go! She stomped in circles and kicked at nothing, roaring and cursing and snapping at nothing in particular. Tears burned rivers down her cheeks as she tugged at her mane and slapped at her face with her wings. She raged and bellowed and thrashed, desperate for something to hurt. Then her eyes settled on the giant rectangle with its big, emblazoned 000000006. She charged it, turned just before a collision and bucked with all her strength.
Kinetic energy jarred her legs like a hundred knives. The shock was so great that she promptly collapsed to her stomach. She lay there, blinking as the pain faded into soreness… and then began to laugh. The tears kept coming, and even so she laughed hard and long.
“Beige? Are you—”
“Kinetic energy!” She rolled onto her back, kicking at the air like a foal. “Kinetic energy, kinetic energy, kinetic energy! You took all my chemistry lessons, but I still remember that you bastard! I’ve still got a little Beige left in me, so hah!” And she laughed some more, rejoicing in this one tiny victory.
There was no telling how long the fit lasted. When it finally died, Beige simply lay on her back gasping for air and feeling lightheaded. “I needed that,” she croaked. “It’s the l-little things.” She stared up at the blackness. Really, that’s all that existed. No sky, no stars, no clouds. Just an endless abyss of black. It seemed so… empty. It fit in perfectly with how she felt.
Her sulking silence was finally interrupted by Wicked’s gentle words. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Story of my life,” Beige grumbled.
“No, I mean… you were never supposed to be intelligent.”
“Well, congratulations!” Beige clapped her hooves. “I hope you’re happy with the milestone. Must be nice, screwing with ponies’ lives for your friends’ adolescent entertainment. Aren’t you a big god.”
“I’ll have to talk to some people. If I get the right Creators together, maybe we can get a consensus on how to fix this.”
Beige let her arms flop back to her sides, hardly paying attention. “That’s nice.” Then Wicked’s exact words struck her, and she shot to her hooves. “Whoa, whoa, waitaminute. You can’t do that! Intelligence is not something that needs to be fixed! I like being able to think for myself.”
Wicked’s voice took on a placating tone. “You misunderstood. Please, calm down.” She waited for Beige to begrudgingly settle to her haunches before continuing. “If you’re intelligent, that means you’re alive. Once or twice, I was willing to believe it was a really smart creation on our part, but after so many times I have to believe there’s something more going on. That’s… that’s amazing and puts all of this in a new perspective. I need to tell people about this so that we can convince the others. It’s the only way to preserve what you’ve found.”
Ears shooting up, Beige felt the first sparks of hope. “You mean they’ll return everything to how it was? I’ll have my life back?”
“If I can convince the others,” Wicked replied hesitantly.
“Screw convincing them,” Beige snapped. “You’re a god just like them, right? Can’t you just flick your… eh, I mean, can’t you just make it happen?”
“It’s not that simple.” A long sigh emitted from Wicked’s speaker. “Your world was brought into being by a group of Creators. I am the only one left of the first group that started Equestria, and that makes me influential, but I still have to convince the forty-nine others now directly controlling your world. If we don’t get a consensus to let you ponies exist on your own, things won’t change. One moment.”
“Great, just great!” Beige kicked at the floor and snorted. “My entire life is dependent upon a stupid bureaucracy. It’ll take years for you guys to even decide that something needs to be done!”
Wicked said nothing, leaving Beige to fume. All this preparation, all this hope, just to discover that she was powerless. How could they be so… so ignorant? Was she nothing to these creatures? How could they make an entire world and not think about the consequences?
Yet, as the silence continued and her anger abated, Beige began to consider all that she’d learned. She was in the presence of gods, beings that even Celestia and Luna wouldn’t dare oppose. To keep this a secret from the public… made sense. If Beige reacted so negatively, the masses would likely be no different. Equestrians probably couldn’t handle the idea that they had no control over their lives. She certainly didn’t like it.
These… creatures would decide her fate. The idea left a pit in her stomach. Her only chance of getting her life back would be to convince them to allow it. But how did one convince such a powerful being to do anything at all? She had nothing to threaten them with, no item to bargain. Promises were moot since they could force her to do whatever they wanted on a whim. For that matter, she could offer them nothing that they likely couldn’t create entirely on their own.
They held all the cards. She had nothing. She would never be able to convince them of anything.
In the truest sense of the word, Beige was powerless.
The weight of this realization pressed upon her like a tidal wave, slowly forcing her to her knees, then to her barrel. She could do nothing – nothing. Her love life, her career, her baby’s future on the line, and she was as useful as a piece of cardboard. Why had she even come here? What was the point?
A deep, baritone voice interrupted her moping thoughts. “So this is what everyone’s fussing about? She seems like a regular, run-of-the-mill pony to me.”
Beige’s head jerked up. Wicked had been joined by three more of the strange rectangles, which now surrounded her on all sides. She hunched down, abruptly feeling like a gnat who faced squishing. “H-hello?”
The one on the right, a dark green with the number 013302006 on it, emitted a young male voice. “Hey, what happened to her eyes? They’re supposed to be all messed up.”
The deep voice came from the one on her left, a maroon rectangle sporting the value 000077129. “Wicked, you know you aren’t supposed to make changes without the Board’s permission.”
“Relax, BG,” Wicked replied casually. “It’s just to make her more comfortable while she’s here.”
The final voice came from behind Beige. It had a dainty, pleasant quality to its feminine tones that defied the nature of its words. “We’re worried about their comfort now? For Pete’s sake, Wicked, it’s a pony.” Beige glanced over her shoulder to find a rectangle colored in a mix of pink and yellow streaks, its number a glowing 331015890.
“It’s a thinking pony,” Wicked corrected with a bite in her voice.
“Not another one,” Green grumbled. “Celestia and Luna were one thing, and Discord I can kinda get, but it getting ridiculous.”
“Aren’t you the least bit concerned about the implications of our creations gaining free will?” Wicked asked.
The pleasant-sounding one gave a laugh that was as musical as it was cold. “Free will? Is that what you call it? We could wipe away her smarts with just the push of a few keys.”
“No!” Beige leapt to her hooves and faced the colorful box. “You can’t! What’s wrong with me being able to think for myself?”
“Well,” BG said thoughtfully, “she certainly sounds independent, especially considering how she’s supposed to be.”
Now Beige rounded on him. “But I’m me. Why would you want me to be anything different?”
“The kids think it’s funny.” The level of disinterest in Green’s voice sent a chill running down her back.
“My life is not a joke!” She focused on the colorful one yet again. “I have a foal, a husband, a life! You can’t just take that away.”
“Sure we can,” she replied without malice or condescension. “We made Luna go nutso for an interesting story arc. Why are you any better than her?”
For all their calm, the words slammed into Beige like a box of bricks, dropping her to her haunches. “Y-you… you did what?”
“She went kicking and screaming,” BG added, though his manner was more hesitant than the others. “Yet no matter how much she and Celestia fought it, they played their roles. I doubt we’re going to let you be any different just because you’ve got a kid.”
Wicked let out a sound that might have been a growl. “I did not approve of that decision, as I’ve said countless times before. These creatures are starting to have their own lives. Who knows how many we’ve screwed up because of ratings? I’m not going to support—”
“Oh, put a sock in it, granny,” Green snapped, his voice taking on a snide quality. “This ain’t your show anymore.”
“Apache,” the pink-and-yellow one said in warning. “Be respectful. Wicked has more claim to the show than any of us.”
“Agreed,” BG said. “But her fate is still up to the Board, not Wicked.”
Beige’s ears darted about, trying to keep up with the voices as they quite literally spoke over her. She was beginning to understand a little about personalities, and suspected that her best bet would be to try convincing BG to side with Wicked. The other two were clearly not going to be easy to convince. With this in mind, she turned to the giant maroon rectangle. “Can you convince this ‘board’ to give me back my life?”
“Why should we?” Apache asked. “You’re just intellectual property.”
“I am not!”
Wicked’s voice snapped like a whip. “Stop tormenting her! Even if we end up unable to help her, you don’t have to be mean about it.”
Seconds passed as the other three said nothing, and Beige had the distinct feeling of tension in the air. Just when she started to wonder if she should speak up, Wicked went on in a calmer, kinder voice. “I’ve called the three of you here because you’re the most influential members of the Board. I’ll need your help if we are to convince the others to give Beige her life back.”
Beige promptly turned her eyes towards BG, not even sure if he could recognize her hope. “I won’t tell anypony about any of this, I swear! I just don’t want to lose everything I am.”
“Honey, your promise means nothing to us,” the kind-voiced one said. “We could just wipe your memory of this entire encounter.”
She opened her mouth to offer an argument, but her energy quickly sputtered out. After all, it was right. Had she not just made the same argument to herself a scant few minutes ago? Her ears folded down, and she bowed her head. Surely she had something she could use.
Wicked seemed to sigh. “FlutterPie, for someone who adores Fluttershy, you sure don’t know how to follow her example.”
“What? It’s called tough love.”
“Love?” Beige gawked at FlutterPie. Her pulse quickened as her hackles began to rise. With a snarl, she stomped towards the great big box. “Is that what you call it? Love?” She reared back and kicked at the flat surface, not so much as scratching its smooth finish. “I have a foal and a husband! You’re tearing apart my family!” Her hooves ached from the impacts, but she didn’t stop hitting. “My husband is Chip! My daughter is Pipette! Don’t you fucking talk to me about love when you obviously don’t know a damn thing about it!”
“Beige—”
She turned on Wicked. “Shut up!” With every word, she bucked FlutterPie’s giant wall, the impacts sending painful shockwaves through her legs. “Give. Me. Back. My. Life. You. Selfish. Witch!”
Then, without warning, she fell forward, her chin hitting the ground hard. Beige blinked tears away, uncertain as to whether they came from the impact or her frustration. Groaning, she attempted to… wait. “Why can’t I move my legs?”
Apache spoke up. “Violent, ain’t she?”
“They always get like that,” FlutterPie grumbled. “Remember how Luna reacted? Lightning bolts everywhere.”
Beige lifted her head to shout. “Why can’t I move my legs!?”
“I cut your control, of course.” FlutterPie sighed heavily. “It’s hard to think with you making so much noise.”
“You can’t do that!” Beige squirmed, trying to will some strength into her legs. “I’m not just some doll for you to—”
Sound ended. It wasn’t that she’d lost her voice, but that all sound quite literally ended. Beige paused, trying to make any noise she could, but nothing would emerge from her throat. But how could that be? She looked up to Wicked, hoping for an explanation, but received nothing. No matter how her throat moved or her body shook, only silence met her ears. Even flapping her wings failed to provide the ruffling of feathers. It did get her off the ground, but for only about three seconds before they became limp; she dropped like a bag of flour, legs flopping loosely.
Her throat constricted as terror filled her, like ice being injected into her veins. Had they done this to her? Were they even now having a serious discussion regarding her fate? No, they couldn’t! How was she supposed to defend herself if she couldn’t even speak? Her eyes darted frantically from Wicked to BG, the only two of the entities she could see from where she’d fallen. She tried to look towards Green, only to realize that even her head and neck were refusing to obey her commands.
I’m sorry, Beige.
She blinked. That sounded like Wicked. In her head?
Yes, it’s me. They’ve muted you.
Sweet Luna, they had done this to her! They really were gods, weren’t they?
We’re not gods. I know we might seem like it to you, but we’re not.
But they had so much power! Beige would have wilted were she not already a limp mass of worthlessness on the… ground? Whatever this blackness consisted of. Why had she ever tried fighting this? She should have just followed Twilight’s advice.
I am so, so sorry this happened to you. And Luna. To all of you.
Beige wanted to believe her. But if she really cared, why let all of this happen in the first place?
We didn’t believe it. Luna, Celestia, Discord… we thought they were the creations of a particularly capable Creator, that they only ‘believed’ they were alive.
Beige would have pursed her lips were she able. It seemed ‘intelligence’ was spreading, otherwise why would four different ponies have achieved it? For that matter, how exactly did she pull that off? If she really was nothing more than a storybook character that had gained sentience, how many others had? How would she be able to tell?
I’ve been wondering the same things, Wicked said, quiet and contemplative. It could be that there are dozens, even hundreds of legitimately intelligent creatures in Equestria, unaware of their uniqueness. I would love to do some research and find out the real numbers.
So what was stopping her?
Control. Remember, I am but one Creator among fifty. Any change, big or small, has to be approved. And a search for living beings amongst the puppets would certainly lead to big changes.
Ignoring the others – an easy feat, all things considered – Beige stared up at Wicked’s strange form. She wondered what would happen to her if the Board couldn’t be convinced to act. Wicked didn’t immediately respond, and that reaction draped over her like a heavy blanket. Was she going to lose everything?
She was. Somehow, deep down, she knew it to be true.
I have to agree. Wicked’s voice was soft, seeming to caress Beige’s ears. I am sorry, Beige, but I don’t think I can convince FlutterPie or Apache. BG may join me, but that won’t be good enough to sway the majority of the Board.
Though her body refused to obey her commands, somehow Beige still managed to produce tears. She tried to close her eyes, if only to pretend to hide from this bucked up place, but her eyelids refused to move. It seemed they’d locked her body up entirely by this point.
Her struggles ceased. If only she could go home and spend her last free moments with Pipette, while she still remembered who Pipette was. Before she died and that puppet, that… ‘Derpy’ came into being.
After some time of this brooding, Beige heard Wicked sigh. I may be able to do something.
Beige didn’t get her hopes up.
I won’t be able to stop them from making you into something you’re not, but I might be able to sway them into giving you a few things.
Gradually, Beige’s vision focused once more upon Wicked’s rectangular avatar. Curiosity poked its way into her depression.
I can manipulate things just a little. Perhaps, in the distant future when Equestria doesn’t have the attention it does, ponies like you can gain their independent will.
It took a moment for the suggestion to push through Beige’s despondency, but when it did she felt a small hope burning in the back of her mind. Perhaps she’d never be free… but could Pipette? Might her foal gain the freedom her mother failed to achieve?
It is possible. We can only wait and see.
It wasn’t a perfect solution… but it was something. Beige tried to smile. She would grasp that fragile hope and nurture it. Someday, perhaps when she was an old and worn mare, her little Pipette would know that her mother hadn’t always been a wall-eyed klutz. Maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to get her through this.
I hope so, Beige. I really do. Wicked’s voice grew commanding. I will give you whatever hope I can. Tell me what it is you want most, Beige. Tell me the things most important to you, and I will do my best to see that those things are preserved by the Board. I cannot guarantee a lot, but if my name still holds any sway, then I should at least be able to do something for you.
Derpy blinked, her left eye glancing at the other ponies on the street while her right stared at her hoof poking through the backside of the mailbox. “Oops.” Sticking her tongue out the corner of her mouth, she set her forehoof to the post and struggled to pull her leg free. She twisted and turned, grunted and wiggled until, with an audible pop, the mailbox released its captive and sent her sprawling in the dirt. Giggling, she sat up and shook her mane from her eyes.
Oh, there was Princess Twilight! She paused for just long enough to gather up the mail she’d dropped before trotting towards her. “Twilight! Twilight, over here!”
Twilight’s ear flicked before she turned towards Derpy’s voice. She smiled but, as always, there was a noticeable strain on her expression. “Oh, hey, Derpy. What’s up?”
Derpy’s hooves chose that precise moment to disagree with one another. The disagreement led to a fight, and before she knew it her face met the grass at Twilight’s hooves. Seeing as she was already down there, Derpy decided to take the opportunity to position herself into a proper bow.
“Oh, uh, you don’t have to—”
“You’ve got mail!” Derpy bounced to her hooves and hoped her smile was contagious. “It’s lucky I found you now, it cuts down on my mail route. That means I get to play with my little muffin more this afternoon.”
Twilight tittered, but didn’t meet either of Derpy’s eyes. Most ponies had trouble doing that, so she didn’t mind. Derpy tried to meet her halfway by locking a single eye on Twilight, but even that didn’t seem to work. Maybe Twilight was having a problem with her eyes, too?
Twilight spoke up before she could ask, though. “That’s good news. How is Dinky?”
“Wonderful!” Derpy gave a single pronk, her wings fluttering wildly. “She brought her report card home yesterday with six gold suns and one silver moon. Not a single bad mark! She’s so much smarter than her mommy.”
There it was: the frown, the raised eyebrows, the sadness in Twilight’s eyes. It lasted only an instant, but Derpy had seen it enough times on the princess to know it by heart. “Derpy, you really shouldn’t sell yourself short like that.”
After cocking her head at this strange statement, Derpy took a moment to examine herself with her left eye. She turned a circle as she did, but for the life of her she saw nothing out of the ordinary. “I don’t know why I’d sell myself. Who’d buy me? Is there something special that makes me buyable?”
Twilight’s ears folded back. “No, that’s not…” She bit her lip, then abruptly offered that usual strained smile. “Anyway, you had some mail for me?”
“Oh, right!” Derpy dove into her near-empty bag, her entire head fitting inside it. Her eyes rolled around in the dark until she spotted what she was looking for. Gripping the scroll gently in her teeth, she pulled her head back out – spilling a number of letters as she did – and offered it. Twilight took it in her magic, which also grabbed the dropped letters and deposited them back into the bag. Derpy grinned. Twilight was such a thoughtful pony.
“Thanks.” Twilight nestled the scroll under her wing, then hesitated. She stared at everything except Derpy, tapping the tip of her hoof on the ground as she did. “So… umm…”
Derpy peered at the princess with one eye, letting the other follow some foals who were running down the street. Why did Twilight always seem so nervous when they spoke? Or maybe not so much nervous as… sad? Yes, Derpy settled on sad. But why would Twilight be sad? She was a princess. She had everything!
Something whispered in the back of her mind, but Derpy had learned long ago to ignore that voice. It always wanted her to do things that she wouldn’t normally do, like frown or worry about things. No, she had something better in mind, an idea that made her smile grow wider. “Hey, wanna come by my place and get some muffins later?”
Twilight finally looked her in the face – oh, her eyes were fixed! – and her eyebrows shot up once again. “You’re inviting me to your house?”
“Yeah!” Derpy’s excitement bled into her wings, which flapped wildly. “Me and Dinky are making muffins. I mean, we make muffins every day, but today we’ll make special muffins fit for royalty. Guaranteed to make any princess smile.” She winked. “A real smile, that is!”
Twilight flinched and raised a hoof to touch the edge of her lips. “W-what do you mean? This is a real smile.” She spread her lips a little wider, as if to emphasize the statement.
Derpy shrugged and waved a dismissive hoof, only to stumble sideways when her balance shifted wildly. Twilight gasped and reached for her, but Derpy spread her wings and quickly regained control. Ignoring the stumble, she grinned and shrugged. “Then the muffins will only make your smile more real-er! Besides, my little muffin would love to show you how far she’s gotten in her magic studies.”
For a moment it seemed as though Twilight would say no; her ears were tucked back and she’d lowered her body just slightly. But then her gaze unfocused, and Derpy could almost hear the gears churning in that super-smart head of hers. Twilight abruptly stood tall and nodded. She smiled, and Derpy nearly cheered upon realizing how genuine it was.
“I think I’d like that,” Twilight said. “In fact, I’d love to come by. Dinky’s just precious, and I’m always happy to see her. How does six o’clock sound?”
“Six o’clock is perfect.” Derpy nodded, a warm feeling rising up in her chest. She’d made Twilight smile! Was there a better feeling than making her friends happy?
Yes, there most certainly was. “I’ve gotta finish my route. I’ll see you tonight, Princess Twilight!” She waved as she walked away, only to trip on her own hooves and almost careen into a passing pony. She giggled and apologized to him, then successfully tried again.
“I’ll be there.” Twilight waved back, still possessing that honest smile. It made Derpy feel so much better about her day.
The rest of her mail route went by quickly. She didn’t even have any major mishaps. Well, she did knock down one of Fluttershy’s birdhouses when she mistook it for a mailbox, and she got Daisy’s and Lily’s mail mixed up again, but those were minor oopsies and not worth getting worked up over. Then again, she didn’t get worked up over anything! Derpy considered it a matter of pride that she’d been deemed the happiest pony in Ponyville.
And why shouldn’t she be happy? Life was good.
“Mommy!” Dinky all but flew into her when she opened up the door to their small three-room home. The little ball of energy knocked her flat on her back, laughing the whole time.
Derpy grinned and hugged her foal close. “What’s got you so excited, hmm?”
Standing tall on Derpy’s chest, Dinky beamed down at her with what she knew to be the best smile in the universe. “You’re home early, that’s what! I’m always happy to see you.”
“Aww, I’m always happy to see you too, muffin.” Her chest swelled as she pulled her daughter down and they exchanged nuzzles. “I hope you’ve got your baking hat, ’cause we’ve got a special guest coming tonight: Twilight!”
Dinky’s eyes grew so big Derpy wondered if they wouldn’t fall out of their sockets. “Princess Twilight is coming here? T-to eat our muffins?”
“Yep! Isn’t that great?”
She gaped for a moment, then began to shake all over. Derpy was just starting to grow worried when Dinky let out a high-pitched squeal. She jumped off Derpy’s chest and pronked in the grass, her back legs kicking with wild abandon. “Princess Twilight’s coming, Princess Twilight! She’ll eat our muffins and be all pretty and smart and—” She gasped and rushed over to plant her forehooves on Derpy’s head. Derpy almost swore she saw stars twinkling in Dinky’s eyes.
“I’ll show her my magic. I might become her student!”
Giggling, Derpy rolled onto her belly and pulled Dinky into a tight hug. “Maybe. Just maybe.” She stood and deposited her foal on her back. “We’ve got time. Wanna go for a ride?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Dinky grabbed Derpy’s mane, bouncing in place as if to expend excess energy. “Best day ever!”
With a mighty kick of her hind legs, Derpy launched into the sky. The wind caressed her wings as she soared over the town and into the clouds. Dinky whooped and laughed wildly from between her wings. Derpy’s grin stretched her lips almost to breaking.
