Pretension Cords
In hindsight, getting stuck in a body without a horn and a world without any magical knowledge had not been Sunset Shimmer's wisest move. Still, it hadn't been like Celestia had actually told her what she'd find on the other side of the mirror, and she might not have obsessed over it so much if the old nag had actually answered her questions. So, like most of the problems in Sunset's life, it was really her former mentor's fault.
Having to attend Canterlot High School was an exception to that rule, but Sunset could still blame Celestia's local analogue, even as she acknowledged that the woman was ultimately a low-level functionary in this world's educational system. The course material was easier to pin on the principal, banal subjects full of banal trivia that Sunset either already knew or wouldn't need when she returned to Equestria. But she still put in the work, because the idea of anyone not recognizing her genius was unacceptable. Especially after her first week here.
It had seemed like an innocuous question. "What magic can you use?" Every thinking creature in Equestria and most of the rest had an answer to it. But in this world, all it got Sunset was confusion, scorn, and a very enthusiastic performance from a charlatan with smoke bombs for brains. All of Canterlot High had snickered about the girl who still believed in magic until Sunset had established that she'd brook nothing of the sort.
After moons in this horrid form, she understood their ignorance. Even Sunset's brilliance had needed incredible effort over that time to force the faintest mote of thaumic potential out of this world and body. Even so, she'd managed a spark. From there, all she needed was time and materials. Soon, everyone who'd laughed at her in that first week would see how mistaken they were.
“I'll show them," Sunset grumbled beneath the sound of Friday's last bell, rubbing the reassuring weight of the prototype in her pocket. "I’ll show them all.”
“Ahem.”
Sunset looked up, hand jerking out of her jacket. That definitely wasn't the genial face of her math teacher, Mr. Vector. “Vice Principal Luna?" Her blood ran cold as her last thoughts caught up with her. "How much did I say out loud?”
The pity in the vice principal's eyes made her smile worse than any scowl. “Just that last part.” Then came the scowl. “I need to see you in my office, Sunset.”
“You couldn’t use the PA system?" Sunset sneered. She saw no reason to respect this bizarre echo of Celestia any more than the genuine article. "Sorry, your sister couldn’t?”
There was the scowl. And to Luna's credit, the first time Sunset had seen it, it had made her flinch. But that was many scowls ago at this point. “Do you want to make this a schoolwide announcement? Or get Celestia involved?”
Sunset crossed her arms and glanced away. “Fine” was all the acknowledgement she gave the valid point.
The walk to the vice principal's office only made her brood more on the insufferable nature of this world. Soon, she would shake the bars of this prison, but shattering them was still intolerably far away. For a moment, Sunset contemplated simply waiting for the lunar cycle to align the worlds once more, but she dismissed that out of hand. Even if sitting complacently as she waited for the heavens to solve her problems for her hadn't feel too close to ceding control to Celestia once again, it still would have felt like giving up when she knew she could get back home faster.
It was a tough road to trot, but she—
“Sunset!”
“Whuh?” Sunset looked around. She didn't remember sitting down. Or entering Luna's office. Or leaving Mr. Vector's classroom. “When did we get here?”
Luna nodded from behind her desk. “This is exactly why I wanted to see you. That and missing your appointment with Ms. Tenderheart.”
“Please. I don’t need ‘guidance counseling.’" Sunset crossed her arms after the air quotes, which were one of the few minor benefits hands offered over hooves. "That’s for aimless idiots who coasted through school until they realized they were running out of time to make something of themselves. I already know what I’m doing with my life.”
To her surprise, Luna just shrugged. “Be that as it may, we’re growing concerned for you.”
Sunset narrowed her eyes. “Who’s this ‘we’?”
“Teachers gossip, Sunset, and good administrators keep an ear open. You’ve been inattentive in class, you haven’t been turning in assignments, your test results are falling—”
“What!?” Sunset hadn't meant to bolt out of the chair; one moment, she just found herself looming over Luna's desk, enraged at the idea of the tangible proof of her superiority over the fools surrounding her might have vanished. It took her a moment to realize that the weird sensation at her hooves was actually balled-up fists pressed against polished particle board.
Luna's only response was a flat look, one she held until Sunset sat back down. Only then did she nod and say, “I thought that would get your attention. I’ve been where you are, Sunset.”
“Ha!" It took all of Sunset's self-control to not keep laughing until she cried. "You have no idea what I’m going through.”
That got a shake of Luna's head. “You and the two or three other kids I talk to about this." After a beat and a smirk, she added, "Every year. I only want to give you the help I didn’t have at your age.”
Sunset reviewed the conversation thus far, comparing Luna's knowledge and assumptions to her own. She didn't like the conclusion, but it was the only she could think of. “What, you think I’m on drugs or something?”
“No. I’ve seen a few students try to hide a substance abuse problem; you don’t show any of the signs." Luna frowned. "Though I’m insulted on the other students' behalf that you thought such issues were so prevalent here.”
“Yeah, not like the eco-kids might have made me think otherwise.” Sunset shot a look in the rough location of that insipid group's "drum circle."
Bafflingly, that actually got Luna to smile. “How Sandalwood applies his home ec courses is his business. Besides, that’s legal in this state. And you’re deflecting.”
“Oh, I’m deflecting? You won’t even tell me what you think is wrong with me.”
“We both know, Sunset." There was that pitying look again. "Just like you know that I’m not just trying to help your academic career, but also your mental well-being.”
Another possibility, even worse than the drugs, reared its ugly head. One Sunset hadn't even wanted to consider, not after the close brushes she'd already had. With a calm she didn't feel, she said, “Are you calling me crazy?”
Luna took an infuriatingly long time to respond. To her credit, if nothing else, she never flinched away from Sunset's intent stare all the while. “By certain metrics, you’re dangerously sane.”
That did it. Sunset rose again, eyes locked on the door. “This is pointless. I’m out of here.”
“Sit. Down.” A faint echo of the authority Princess Celestia could throw around when truly mad rang in the vice principal's voice.
But it was only that, a faint echo. “See you in detention,” Sunset probably said. She couldn't say whether it had been in Wranglish or Ponish, though the raised middle finger was definitely in the local tongue. She stormed out, deaf to any further calls from Luna and all but blind to anything between her and her true goal. She didn't need this school. She didn't need these people. She needed magic, was close enough to feel her horn tingle, and she wasn't going to stop until she got it.
Celestia crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair behind her own desk in a way she'd never let a student see. “And you just let her go?”
Luna shrugged. “You remember my ‘Nightmare Moon’ phase, Tia. Sunset's at least as bad. I couldn’t have done anything to stop her short of tackling her to the ground, and she certainly wouldn’t have listened to anything I’d have to say after that.”
Her sister turned away to face a distant corner of the room, the way she always did when Luna made a valid point that she didn't want to acknowledge. Eventually, Celestia said, “You still gave her detention, right?”
“Three weeks." Luna smirked. "She did literally ask for it. Besides, the new Blacklight Butterfly novel just came out.”
The answering grimace was all Celestia needed to say about Luna's favorite author. That debate had raged on for longer than either of them cared to admit. Instead, she turned in the direction of Canterlot High's entrance. "Do you think she'll be all right?"
That got a helpless shrug. "At this point? It's up to her. She's hyperfocused on some big project. We just have to hope she actually knows what she's doing and isn't riding on ego and intuition."
"Like you did?"
Luna snorted despite her sister's smirk. Enough time had gone by that she could see the humor in the old memory. "Oh, I knew that thing wouldn't blot out the sun. I just didn't care."
Celestia hummed at that, leaning forward with her chin on her hands. "Maybe that's what she really needs. A reason to care."
Another shrug was all Luna could offer there. "If I ever figure out how to make a teenager to do that, you'll be the first to know."
Sunset pulled out one of the minor miracles of this world, a device that allowed real-time communication with anyone given the proper rune sequence, and had it run one of the rituals she'd taught it. Specifically the one to contact the one who'd taught her.
"Sunset?" came the response.
"Flash." With anyone else, the next three words would be like dragging broken glass across Sunset's tongue. With Flash, it was practically how she said hello. "I need help."
But he didn't give the usual eager response. Instead, he said, "Now's really not a good time—"
Sunset's grip on her phone tightened. "Do I sound like I care? Meet me at my place in an hour."
"My grandma's eightieth—"
"Tell her something came up." She gritted her teeth. "Because it did. My place. An hour. Or else."
Silence met her for what would have been an infuriatingly long time if she could have gotten any angrier.
"Or else what?"
Flash always had been good at showing her new horizons.
The sheer shock made Sunset forget the devastating response she'd have given otherwise. "That doesn't matter!"
"Then I'm busy," Flash said with unusual firmness. "Sunset, I love helping you—"
"Well, here's your chance!"
"But I have a life outside of you. And if you can't accept that, I think you should start asking other people to help with your projects."
"Flash? Flash?" Sunset pulled her phone off her ear and stared at it, demanding answers.
Call Disconnected
"That ingrate! After all I've done for him!" A long list she'd surely be able to fill if she stopped to think for a moment, which she obviously couldn't do now. It took everything she had not to dash her telephone against the sidewalk. Instead, she channeled the rage into stomping her way to a blessed paradise of wonders the likes of which even Celestia in her palace could not imagine. A promised land of components and reagents that would fulfill Sunset's every dream, if only she could offer payment to match.
The incredible establishment known only as Audio Hut.
A weight came off Sunset's shoulders as she walked through those hallowed doors. Like a swallow returning home, she unerringly wound her way through the aisles of resistors, switches, and diodes to the back racks, where the heavy-duty cables hung. Thick as her calves, each one was capable of channeling more electricity than a provincial weather factory. Each head-sized plug practically sparkled with potential, both figurative and literal.
Sunset hadn't been able to find one in a nearby junkyard before the guards had spotted her. That place wouldn't be an option for several more weeks, not until the heat died down, so she'd turned to actually purchasing one. It wasn't easy, but the time had come to assemble her magical generator and finally achieve her rightful dominance over this pathetic world.
There was only one left on the rack once it came into view. Destiny knew this was meant to be. Sunset took a moment to savor the anticipation.
The moment was promptly ruined by a pair of purple hands grabbing the cable and hauling it off the rack.
"What?" Sunset turned and glared at the interloper.
The other girl shrugged, handling the cable surprisingly well as she threaded an arm through the loops, though there was no telling what muscles lay under her lab coat. However, her glasses did nothing to hide the same malicious glee Sunset had often seen in her own reflection. "Sorry. You snooze, you lose."
"I was here first!" cried Sunset.
"And yet I pulled it off the rack." The other girl smirked as she turned to leave, her hair bun bouncing with each exaggerated step towards the registers. "Funny view of causality you have there."
Sunset tugged at a loop of the cable. “I need this!”
That got a groan. “Look, let’s not get into a ‘who has it worse’ contest with our SRMD. I don’t need that kind of hassle today and I also brought a death ray.”
“What?”
The other girl pulled... something out of a hip holster under the coat. It sat in an uncomfortable spot between foal's toy and improvised explosive. “Okay, it’s more of a severe annoyance ray, but the principle stands." She and the ray gun both turned to face Sunset, though she kept her finger off the trigger. For now. "Especially since I don’t see anything on you.”
Sunset shook her head. The weapon was a concern, but this wasn't her first trip to Audio Hut. “No, that acronym.”
“Look, call it what you want," the other girl said with clear disinterest. "Genius, inspiration, ‘the Spark,’ they all mean the booby prize of the genetic lottery that makes your dreams look like patent applications. And you’re not the only one with it.”
The world didn't shake beneath Sunset's feet, which only proved that this one had no sense of drama. She still staggered back, using the empty racks for support. “I’m not?”
Uncertainty flashed across the other girl's face. “No. No, you’re not. How do you not know about Science Related Memetic Disorder in this day and age?”
Sunset stiffened for a moment. Suspicious behavior led to uncomfortable questions like "Where are your parents?" or "What do you think you're doing with that?" She cleared her throat and said, “I, uh, don’t get out much.”
“Uh huh. Sure," droned the other girl. "Or watch much TV. Or look at the Internet basically ever.”
Sunset sneered. “Anything that offers all the knowledge in the world for free clearly has ulterior motives."
That got an eyeroll. "Obviously. The sinister motive of getting you to pay for the data plan."
"Look, just let me have the stupid cable." Sunset hated to plead, but without knowing when more would get in stock, the setback could be devastating. "I’ve been saving up for this for a moo…nth.” She cursed internally; Luna and Flash must have shaken her more than she thought if she was letting Equestrian terms slip out.
The other girl raised an eyebrow. “A moonth?”
“That’s what I said.”
That coaxed a hint of a smile from the other girl. She was actually pretty cute when she wasn't looking at Sunset like something she'd scraped off her boot. “I kind of respect you owning that, but I still need to replace the one I burnt out last week.”
Sunset managed to keep her panic at the idea of the horribly expensive equipment burning out from showing on her face. “Look, I can pay you.”
“You’re trying to bribe me. You, the girl who’s been saving up for a moonth.”
“To rent it." If nothing else, the princess had taught Sunset much about negotiation. "I only need it for a few tests, then you can have it for however long it lasts.”
“‘A few tests.’" Another smile. Sunset counted it as a win before the grin turned as bitter as the other girl's tone. "Yeah, sure. You tell yourself that and the next thing you know, the sun’s rising on Monday morning while you’re downing an energy drink you don’t remember buying and running Trial 317.”
“Well, why do you need it so bad?” Sunset tried to keep the acid out of her tone, she really did. It was just impossible while facing such a tenacious obstacle so close to the finish line. A challenging one. The only one she'd known to rival herself for brilliance, the only one actually giving her answers to questions she hadn't even thought to ask...
The other girl didn't seem to mind the biting sarcasm. She just shrugged and said, “Same reason as you. If I don’t get this idea out of my head by building it, it’ll claw its own way out.”
Sunset ignored the sympathetic itching all around her scalp. “And what’s your big idea?”
“I’m making a carefully constrained AI so my puppy can have a girlfriend. Can't start that up on household current.”
“Ah. Giving him what you can never have." Sunset nodded. "Very charitable.”
The other girl didn't look amused or hurt, just tired. “Congratulations, you’re the thirtieth person to make that joke.”
Sunset boggled at that. “Wait, really?”
“Yes, your biting wit isn’t nearly as clever and original as you thought." The other girl turned away again. "Now, if you'll excuse me—”
“No, I mean…” Sunset trailed off. She was desperate, yes, but was she really that desperate?
“What?” The other girl looked back, wrinkling her nose at Sunset. "Are... are you blushing?"
“No!" Sunset cleared her throat, paying no mind to the heat in her cheeks. "Look, if you won’t let me rent out the cable, how about a date?”
The other girl went stock-still. Slowly, coil by coil, the cable hit the tiled floor. “What.”
Part of Sunset considered swooping down and making off with her prize. “We get emotional and scientific fulfillment. Win-win, right?” That part apparently wasn't controlling the mouth at the moment. Nor the right arm, given how she held out her hand. "I'm Sunset Shimmer, by the way."
"Twilight Sparkle." The other girl shook her hand with the kind of mechanical disinterest Sunset recognized from her own etiquette courses. “To be clear, you’re actually prostituting yourself for advanced hardware?”
Sunset crossed her arms. “Hey, this is just escort service. It’s not prostitution until the fourth date.” She gave Twilight an appraising look from head to toe. The human form didn't do much for her, but the other girl's intelligence wasn't her only appealing factor. Certainly more so than Flash's social status and pliability. “Maybe the third.”
Twilight sputtered for a moment, her own cheeks flushed. “Have you no pride?”
“Sure, but I can put that aside for this project." Sunset took a few steps closer, giving her most winning smile. "And a girl who can actually stand up to me.”
After a few moments of silent thought and her own share of roving over Sunset's body, Twilight said, “What exactly are you working on?”
“Detecting, isolating, and hopefully reproducing exotic energy from another universe.” After the mockery saying "magic" had gotten her, Sunset was very careful about using the alternative term outside of her own notes.
Twilight still didn't look impressed. “I may be neurodivergent, but that doesn’t mean I’m gullible.”
“I don’t expect you to be.” Sunset pulled the prototype out of her jacket pocket, all carefully twisted aluminum and silver built around the last gem she'd saved from what few supplies she'd brought with her from Equestia. She snapped the spell matrix closed, completing the circuit. The runes along its outer edge gave off a faint glow, barely perceptible against the brighter shine from the central ruby.
“So you put a…" Twilight's skepticism melted away she leaned closer. "Wait, this isn’t plastic. This is actual corundum. Seamless.” She took a hold of it, her fingertips brushing against Sunset's. Sunset flinched back reflexively, but Twilight didn't even seem to notice, turning the device in her hands. “I can’t see the LED or the battery or the wiring—”
“Because there isn’t any,” Sunset said with four moons of hard-won pride. After giving Twilight a few more moments of inspection, she reached for the prototype again.
Twilight flinched away for a moment before letting it go. “I have no idea how that works. I’m helping you develop it,” she said, a familiar fire in her eyes.
Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Are you, now?”
“You want a date? Then science will be our chaperone." Twilight grabbed the cable again; Sunset had forgotten about it entirely. "Are you coming or not?"
Sunset grinned like a madwoman. "Absolutely."
The two of them rode the skyway monorail to Twilight's neighborhood. Sunset had seen the gleaming cars pass overhead plenty of times, but only now learned that they had been another product of "SRMD," one that Crystal City had repurposed and expanded from the original intention of a constantly patrolled perimeter. With laser turrets.
"How many inventions begin as horrible weapons?" she asked, trying to keep her eyes on the view through the windows and not on Twilight's holster.
"More than I'd like to admit, fewer than some people claim. Paranoia and megalomania are a hell of a cocktail." Twilight cleared her throat. "Thanks for not mentioning the, uh, threat to the cashier. I've been banned from places for less."
Sunset shrugged. "I don't throw away assets that hastily."
"Oh? Is that what I am? An asset?"
Another shrug. "The world is nothing but assets and liabilities."
A hand on Sunset's shoulder got her to turn to face a frowning Twilight. "That seems like a very cold line of thinking."
"It's reali—"
The hand went down to take hold of Sunset's. "You're too warm to think that way."
Sunset was struck speechless for a moment. Twilight looked as shocked as she felt. After a few false starts, Sunset blurted out a paraphrased take on something she'd heard in the locker room. "Ms. Sparkle, are you trying to seduce me?"
That got a snort. "Yes, wicked temptress that I am with my premarital hand holding. Never mind that you were the one desperate enough to ask me on a date in exchange for using the heavy-duty cable."
"You still said yes." Sunset tilted her head at the faint lump in her pocket. "When I proved to be an asset to you, I might add."
"I didn't say you were wrong. Just that it's a cold way of looking at the world. Sad. Lonely." Twilight squeezed Sunset's hand. "Says a lot about someone when they think like that."
"You agreed with me," noted Sunset.
"I did, yes."
Twilight's words filled the air the way the few other passengers in their car couldn't.
Sunset fought to keep her squirming to a minimum, though she still glanced away from Twilight. "I should warn you, I'm not exactly the best person to talk to about... you know, feelings."
"Didn't say I wanted to."
"Well... I mean, if we're going to be working together, ideally, I want you to enjoy it." Sunset sighed as she did one of her least favorite things in the world and actually thought about the consequences of her actions. "I... kind of threw away an asset earlier today. I may want to make it up to him later. And possibly his grandmother."
Twilight furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry, are you telling me you broke up with your boyfriend hours before negotiating a date with me?"
Sunset shook her head, holding back a laugh. "He's not a boyfriend. He's just someone I can order around for help and supplies."
"Oh, a minion." Twilight nodded. "No problem. If anything, I'm kind of jealous; I've never had the force of personality for that kind of thing."
That got a grin. "Oh, he's really easy to boss around. We can have you practice on him."
Twilight's answering smile came with another squeeze of Sunset's hand. "I'd like that."
At that point, they reached their stop. They stepped out, still hand in hand, and Sunset found herself smiling in a lighthearted way she hadn't since she was a filly.
At the Audio Hut, Sunset had figured Twilight's lab would be similar to her own equipment; begged, borrowed, and stolen, like the apartment that housed it. She first began to doubt that when the monorail had turned to the more affluent residential area of the city, the little patch of pseudo-suburbia carefully pointed away from the high-rises and historic sites. That doubt redoubled as she took in the size of each mini-mansion they passed after they'd disembarked, especially when Twilight turned towards the largest one yet.
Twilight looked back at the stunned Sunset, who'd stalled out halfway up the driveway. "What's wrong? It's like you've never seen a house before."
"I've seen houses. I've never seen that." Sunset pointed to the white concrete cylinder poking out behind the main building like an abandoned column from some grand pegasus temple.
That just got a look and a shrug from Twilight. "Oh, that? That's just Dad's neutrino detector. Part of it, anyway. The basement was already seismically isolated when he was looking for gravity waves, so might as well, you know?"
Sunset just stared, vision slowly blurring. She realized she was crying. To her much greater shock, she realized she didn't mind Twilight seeing it.
"Sunset?"
"It's..." Sunset sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "It's been so long since I heard something I didn't understand, but that I so desperately wanted to."
Twilight took her hand again and tugged her towards a garage larger than Sunset's apartment. "Come on. You've been subsisting on..." She shuddered. "Public education for long enough. It's time to give your brain a decent meal."
The next few hours were a blur, a familiar one. Sunset remembered a similar reaction to her first day as Celestia's personal student, wanting to see, try, and learn everything she laid her eyes on. Vague impressions of a pale-skinned woman and a puppy who were both very excited to meet her warred against paying rapt attention as Twilight lectured her on some fascinating aspect of this world that Sunset had never imagined, yet explained so much about the anomalous readings and unexpected roadblocks she'd hit during her own research.
Her attempts to return the favor had felt paltry by comparison, starting and stopping as she kept having to revise the fundamentals of what she thought she knew based on the surreal properties of this world and Twilight's complete unfamiliarity with the subject matter, yet the other girl had seemed just as enthralled as Sunset had been. Half of the time, she had to shift an explanation to a more advanced level because Twilight had grasped the underlying principles before Sunset could get to them.
Twilight Velvet—of course, Twilight's mother, who else she could have been?—eventually called them out of the converted garage that comprised Twilight's lab for dinner. Sunset was gratified to see Twilight had just as much trouble navigating out of the maze of whiteboards that they'd inadvertently created. Neither remembered even pulling them out of what had been a carefully organized storage room, much less filling them with equations that had as much to do with Mr. Vector's lessons as architecture did with wooden blocks.
"Why are we even leaving to eat?" Sunset said as she squeezed between quantum wave equations and Star Swirl's Fourth Law of Temporal Recursion.
"The meat bodies do need fuel," Twilight said ahead of her.
She shrugged at that. "Well, yeah, but couldn't we just have sandwiches or something?"
"Dinner is important."
"But—"
Twilight whipped back, the intensity in her gaze usually reserved for insisting on fundamental laws of physics. "Dinner. Is. Important."
"Um..."
The door to the lab opened behind Twilight, revealing her smiling mother. "I've been married to a mad genius for more than twenty years, Sunset. I know how to manage you all."
Sunset gave a sly grin. "I should warn you, Mrs. Velvet, I've been told I'm very unmanageable."
The older woman matched the expression. "So had my Nighty. Now he's helping with the ISS and no one's even worried about him using it to melt the polar ice caps!"
Sunset might have said more, but her stomach interrupted with a growl deep enough to make her double over. "Oh. Dinner is important."
"Told you," said Twilight Sparkle.
After enough cheesy, vegetable-and-pasta-laden casserole for Sunset to feel vaguely human again (not she ever felt more human than that,) those etiquette courses started kicking her from the back of her mind. "Um, sorry for imposing, Mrs. Velvet."
The elder Twilight waved off the apology. "Dear, I'm just happy Twilight actually found a friend. She hasn't brought anyone home since she and Moondancer—"
"Mother!" cried the younger. "That's ancient history. And Moondancer's eyebrows grew back." After a knowing look from her mother, Twilight glanced away and muttered, "Eventually."
"And you two never talked to each other again, as far as I know. But you've been happier today than I've seen you in months." Twilight Velvet got up from the table to hug her daughter.
"Mom, Sunset's right there," Sparkle said, softly but not enough for Sunset to miss it.
For her part, Sunset just shrugged. "Nothing to be ashamed of."
Sparkle squirmed out of the embrace. "We should still get back to the lab."
"I suppose I can only keep you away for so long." Velvet turned to her guest. "Sunset, are your parents alright with you staying the night?"
Sunset waved her phone. "Already let them know." Perhaps the greatest spell the little slab cast was one that kept people from asking too many questions.
Even as she thought that, Velvet narrowed her eyes. The seconds stretched out, tension growing.
But then Velvet smiled, and all was well again. "Wonderful! You two have fun. Just remember—"
"No transuranics," said Sparkle. "I know, Mother, I'm not seven anymore."
Velvet leaned in next to Sunset and stage-whispered, "They had to hose down Sparkle's entire room with anti-gamma foam. There are still green stains underneath the new wallpaper."
"Okay, thank you for dinner, Mother," said Sparkle, grabbing Sunset by the wrist and all but dragging her to the front door.
"I'm sure that photo album's around here somewhere."
"We're going back to the lab now."
As Sunset got tugged out of the house, she spotted Velvet winking at her and giving her a thumbs-up. She grinned and returned the gesture before bringing her focus back to the younger Twilight. "So, been doing this since you were seven, huh?"
"Dad still had one of his father's old chemistry sets, back when they actually put live uranium samples in them you could detect with a Gauging counter. It wasn't supposed to be a critical mass, but one thing led to another and..." Twilight cleared her throat. "Well, it's not like I was the only girl in my class who caused a meltdown that year."
Sunset nodded. "No kidding. I was seven when I tried to commune with the sun for the first time. Nearly burnt my horn off, to say nothing of the castle's western sitting room."
Twilight came to a halt, looking back at her. "Wait, your horn?"
They stared at each other in mutual confusion as Sunset reviewed the last few hours as best she could. "Quick check, did I never mention I'm actually a unicorn?"
"I don't believe that came up, no." Twilight gasped "But that kind of biological channeling device would explain why you've been having so much trouble with the energy projection—"
Sunset picked up the thought, thoughts ablaze with possibilities. "—because the hydroxyapatite in my bones doesn't perfectly match the actual mineral composition of alicorn—"
Twilight was racing for the lab now, Sunset not far behind. "—and the lack of a single inflexible focus throws off the field calculations—"
As one, they cried, "—unless we use a prosthetic!"
The blur was longer this time, and even more enjoyable. At some point, incidental touches while assembling the prototype started lingering for longer than necessary. Looks into each other's eyes became more common than checking readouts. Physical comparison of transformed unicorns versus native humans suddenly became vitally important for the project, and in exhaustive detail.
Eventually, Sunset grimaced against several forms of discomfort. Despite the soft warmth next to her, her pillow was flat, her sheets far too thin, and her mattress might as well have been a slab of lead. Plus, her right foreleg had fallen asleep.
Grudgingly, nickering every curse she could think of at the dawn, she peeled her eyes open, tried to get up, and found herself trapped.
She turned and remembered several things in quick succession: She was human. She'd had the best night of her life with the girl who was using her shoulder as a slightly more comfortable pillow than a wadded-up leather jacket. That was probably her boot dangling off the...
Hmm.
"Twilight," she said, trying to work herself loose.
"Mmm..." Twilight just held Sunset tighter. "Not now, Spike, go chase the pancakes..."
"Twilight, I think we lost track of what we were making last night," said Sunset.
"Huh?" Twilight took waking up even harder than Sunset had, blinking in what little sunlight made it past all the obstructions in the lab.
"Hang on." Sunset reached up to the desk next to which they'd collapsed. Twilight shuffled away, giving her a bit more room to maneuver. Soon enough, she found and returned the other girl's glasses. "Here you go."
"Thanks." Twilight glanced away and blushed even as she put them back on. "Um."
Sunset looked down. Blouse, skirt... not the most comfortable pajamas, but they did the job. "Nothing showing that even your insanely prudish society considers indecent, Twi. We just made out until we dropped."
"Well, yes, true." Twilight brought a hand to her lips, still focused on everywhere but Sunset. "That's still the most, um, passionate I've been with anyone."
"I'll be happy to help you beat the record later." Sunset took a moment to savor the blush she could see go all the way down Twilight's neck. "Right now, I have an observation regarding the other work we did last night."
Twilight turned, then widened her eyes as she registered just what was next to Sunset. "Y-yes?"
“Science is a lousy chaperone.”
“It would seem so, yes. I have a follow-up observation.”
“Yeah?”
Twilight looked at their creation, a half-assembled canine robot the size of a dire wolf, its incomplete casing revealing several crystals in various shapes, sizes, colors, and levels of unearthly glow. The heavy-duty cable snaked out from the wall into a port in its belly. “I have an incredible urge to take you to my school and laugh at the fools who thought Moondancer was my one and only chance at ever having a relationship. Possibly after we finish building this monstrosity and see what it can do.”
Sunset stretched an arm across Twilight's shoulders. “Ms. Sparkle, you are a hopeless romantic.”
A dread summons rang out, awakening a nightmare to a world not yet ready for it.
It then whipped its phone off its nightstand, because it recognized the personalized ringtone. "Tia, it is before 9 AM on a Sunday. This had better be important."
"Luna, turn on Channel 4."
Luna sat up, actually getting out of bed and making her way to her living room. (One of the two other rooms in her apartment, but still.) Celestia rarely sounded this serious. "If this is a prank, I still have the photos from your junior prom and I am not afraid to give them to the yearbook committee."
"Trust me, sister," said Celestia, "you need to see this."
"And you could just tell me what it..." Channel 4 News finally came up on Luna's TV. She fell back onto her couch watching the devastation unfold. "Oh."
"I think," Celestia said with the careful delicacy she usually used with Superintendent Neighsay, "it's safe to say Sunset knew what she was doing."
"Or her copilot did." Luna grinned as the massive construct fired coherent beams of destruction at its target, the news chopper getting a clear shot of two girls in the open cockpit throwing up their hands like they were in a roller coaster. "Good for them."
"Luna!"
"Come on, Tia, the applications are obvious. The Department of Retrofitting will have those two set for life." Luna leaned back, imagining the reverse-engineered, civilian-friendly version sure to come. "Mark my words, crystal mecha-wolves will be the luxury vehicle in five, ten years tops."
"They've already torn down half of Crystal Prep!" cried Celestia.
"Which is Abacus's problem, not ours." Luna luxuriated in that thought.
"And where do you think all her little monsters will attend class while they rebuild?"
"Ah." Luna sighed. "You always were better at the big picture. At least Sunset seems to be happy."
"There is that," Celestia allowed. "This 'Twilight Sparkle' girl's a miracle worker in more ways than one."