The interrogation room was small and cramped, with metallic gray walls and floor. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling over his head. On one of the walls facing him, there was an obvious two-way mirror shaped suspiciously like a window.

What he didn't realize was that behind that mirror were two very important creatures watching his every move.

He'd grown tired of trying to stare down the shadowy figures hidden behind the window. A young man of sixteen sat slouched in one of the chairs, boredom written across his weary, impish face. He had spiky brown hair and dull blue eyes. A dirty white baseball T-shirt with black sleeves damp with sweat clung to his toned, athletic body. His jeans were ripped and torn and his black sneakers were falling apart.

He was probably going to jail. Scratch that; he was going to jail. Federal prison. That sounded even worse. What was he thinking, charging into the middle of the street like that? Oh, wait, he wasn't!

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he hissed.

The door opened and a Secret Service agent stepped in, loosening his tie and removing his jacket draping it over the chair across the table and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He began to pace around him. The sound of his shoes were solid and heavy. His heartbeat matched the man's footsteps.

An ominous shadow loomed over the boy's head. He gulped, and looked up to see the man looking right back at him. For a moment he thought he could see eyes behind his glasses.

"You're in a heap of trouble, kid."

Tell me something I don't know, he thought sardonically, his mind flashing back to the moment where everything went wrong. Where did things go wrong? The moment he left campus, or when he slammed into the car? It had happened in the blink of an eye. His front wheel connected and he was flying, landing on his back, his arms and legs scratched from the asphalt. The streets were suddenly swarmed with agents pointing guns at him, yelling at him to put his hands up and get on his knees. After that, he suffered the humiliation of being pinned down as they cuffed him, reading him his rights.

"Do you have any idea what the penalty is for threatening the president?"

Threatening the president...

Was that what it was?

The burly man crouched down, forcing the teenager's eyes to meet his own from behind his sunglasses. He didn't like the fact that he couldn't see his eyes behind his reflective lenses. The boy cast his eyes down in defiance.

"You've just committed a class D felony. Do you know what that means?"

Oh my. Sounds serious.

The boy shook his head numbly.

"We're talking up to five years in federal prison."

That was all? Huh. Not bad.

He let that sink in. "Now I'm assuming that you know basic math. How old did you say you were?"

"Seventeen."

"And seventeen plus five is?"

"Twenty-two," he mumbled.

"Twenty-two years old. Five years of your life spent behind bars, minimum." He paused. "Not to mention the twenty-five hundred thousand dollar fine."

The boy set his jaw. They couldn't imprison him, right? He wasn't eighteen yet! He still had time.

"Have anything to say for yourself?"

There had to be some kind of juvie for kids who committed federal crimes.

The boy mumbled something incoherent.

"What was that?"

"It was an accident!"

The man frowned.

"I swear I didn't know the motorcade was scheduled to be there!" he protested, jumping out of his seat.

"Sit down," the agent commanded.

The young man did as he was told. "You act like it's a crime."

"Being underage without a license in possession of an unregistered firearm near the president isa felony. You've managed to violate four laws just by carrying that thing around."

He tried to placate the man. "I know this looks bad, but it isn't mine!"

"We found your grubby fingerprints all over it," he stated flatly, "How does a kid like you even get his hands on a piece?"

"I found it lying on the street," he lied.

"Do I look like a simpleton?"

Yes. "No."

"Where?"

"A convenience store, downtown."

"And may I ask why were you robbing this store?"

"Who said I was robbing it?" When he realized that he wasn't fooling anyone, he said, "I was strapped for cash."

There was a knock at the interrogation room door. The man snatched a manila folder from another agent and shut the door.

"Drake Anderson."

The boy's eyes flicked toward the man, aware that he was being addressed personally, following the agent as he circled him in a predatory manner.

"Born on September 19th, 1994," he read aloud before stopping, glancing at him. "Mr. Anderson, it says here that you're currently attending St. Anne's-Belfield Boarding School in Virginia. What on earth are you doing all the way in D.C.?" He tossed the file onto the table and pulled up a chair and straddled it.

Drake said nothing, refusing to make eye contact.

"I'm waiting," he demanded impatiently.

"I wanted to visit the president." He smiled cheekily.

"I hope that was a joke, for your sake."

His face fell. "I was riding around. That's all." A half-truth.

"The truth."

"I was running away, alright?" he snapped.

"Running away. Huh."

"Shut up," Drake spat. "You don't know me."

The man was unfazed as he began thumbing through his papers. "How did you get here?"

"I took a train."

"So this was premeditated."

"I guess. Well, I mean, not really! I accidentally fell asleep on the train."

"Do you have a ticket?"

Drake shot back, "You already went through all my stuff."

"Yes or no?"

Drake sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, see, the thing is that I didn't exactly buy one." The seats weren't that comfy either...

The man studied him and sighed. "And then?"

"I stole a bike."

"Really?"

"Hey, I needed a way to get around!"

"Let me guess. Didn't go as planned?"

He shrugged. "The guy came back after I picked the lock." Maybe he shouldn't have said that. "I start pedaling off. I go down the street and think I'm in the clear and I see a bunch of black SUVs in a line and people crowded on the sidewalks."

"You didn't think to stop in front of the presidential convoy?"

"No. No, not really." He shook his head. "I wasn't thinking," he admitted.

"Your C average certainly explains why," he quipped. "And I see you have quite a historyof getting into trouble."

He glared at him. "I fall and nearly get run over, and all of a sudden you guys come out of nowhere pointing guns and manhandle me into the back of your van. And now I'm stuck here."

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Yes. You just told me." Drake closed his eyes and slumped in his seat.

The agent continued to drill him, and he shook his head tiredly to all the questions.

How had he gotten into this mess?

The man's voice slowly turned to a drone in the back of his mind.

His eyes snapped open.

He had a terrible idea.

He leaned forward in his seat. "Don't you think people are going to start asking questions about that poor, innocent boy you arrested?"

"Your point?"

"Remember the last time the Secret Service decided to go interrogate little boys?" Drake shook his head disapprovingly. "I'd be a shame to see something like that happen again."

"What are you insinuating?" His tone was getting dangerous.

"You let me go, and I'll keep my mouth shut."

"This is not a negotiation!" the agent roared, slamming his fist on the table. "Who do you think you are?"

Bad idea.

"You think the Secret Service can be intimidated by some punk?"

"I want a lawyer!" Drake shouted back, feeling a bit brave.

The intercom crackled to life. "That's enough."

It was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out. The agent tossed his jacket over his shoulder and left the room.

Drake sat there for a very long time, resting his head against the cold, metallic table. Why did he run away? Why, oh, why? Would running away really solve any of his problems? It sounded like a good idea at the time. He was surprised to have even gotten away with it in the first place. Then it was just a game to see how far he could get. How long he could last on his own.

He heard footsteps approaching. Two of them. Judging by the sound, high heels. Two women.

The doorknob twisted and slowly creaked open.

"May we come in?" a soft, gentle voice asked.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Drake said slowly, "You don't need my permission."

Two women in white and black evening gowns entered the interrogation room. And they appeared to be siblings.

Drake's eyebrows rose.

One had long flowing hair, dyed with pastel colors. She was clearly the more mature of the two. The other had hers styled in a crop cut and dyed blue. Their skin was like porcelain. Their eyes were an unnatural shade of magenta and jade. In a word, they were both gorgeous. A little too much makeup, though. He made sure to remember what they looked like.

"Drake Anderson?"

He stood up, muscles tensed. Were they here to drag him off to jail? Maybe he could make a break for it...

"Who's asking?"

They looked pretty wimpy. He could take them. He'd hit a girl. Maybe.

The woman in white said in a soothing, matronly voice, "The charges are cleared. You're free to go."

"Really?"

The woman in black answered in a much more authoritative voice, "Yes. But we would like you to stay."

Drake frowned. What more did they want? Were they going to interrogate him some more?

He shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Got nothing better to do anyways."

"Come with us."

He was led down a winding maze of dimly lit halls, armed guards watching his every move. Their movements were robotic. Stiff. Unnatural, as if they weren't accustomed to their body, or something.

They entered a food court, where it was about time to close.

"I'll get you something to eat," the older woman told him.

"Thanks," he grunted. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!"

She winced.

Luna pulled up a chair and sat down, placing her hands in her lap. She beckoned for Drake to come. He stood with his thumbs hooked in his pockets.

Celestia brought two glasses of wine and a bottle of root beer and a plate of salad. "Won't you sit?"

"When I'm good and ready," he replied curtly, examining his fingernails and picking at his ear. "Look, no offense, ladies." He saw Luna's lip twitch slightly and smirked. "But I don't even know you two."

"Easily remedied." The woman clad in white stuck out her hand. "I am Celestia."

The woman in black offered hers as well, eagerly crying, "Call me Luna!"

What strange names. He mentally scribbled down their names.

He didn't shake their hands, instead brushing them aside. He reluctantly sat down, reaching for a wineglass and pouting when it was snatched away. Drake dug in immediately. They said nothing for minutes. He was uncomfortable. The way they watched him, studying him, scribbling something down on their pads occasionally with red quill pens.

He asked with a mouth full of food, "So uh, what's with the getup?"

"Pardon?"

He wiped his lips. "You know. The hair and dresses. You guys going to a costume party, or what?"

They looked at each other and smiled again, swirling their wineglasses, observing him. They said nothing for minutes. It was as if they were communicating telepathically. He hated being out of the loop.

He narrowed his eyes. "Look, what do you want?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm not dumb. You said you wanted to talk to me. So talk."

Luna sighed, "We might as well come out and say it."

Celestia said, "Drake Anderson, we are not from your world."

He swallowed, letting the words sink in. Perhaps what she meant was that they came from two different walks of life. Yeah. That sounded like something an adult would say.

"Okay." He snorted and rolled his eyes.

The two shot each other furtive looks.

"Okay?" Luna ventured.

"Yeah. Okay." He paused, and then resumed eating. "I hear that a lot from grownups."

"Oh no, no, you misunderstand, Drake." Celestia smiled.

"No, no, I get it."

Luna grabbed his hand and squeezed it firmly. Her hands were so soft and dainty. And his hand felt like it was being crushed."We mean to say that we are extraterrestrials."

He snatched his hand away and stared. "What?"

"Aliens."

...

Drake played along. "Ha-ha, that's a good one, aliens."

They didn't smile or laugh, or say, "Just kidding!" Their faces said it all.

"Wait, wait, you're serious."

They nodded slowly.

"Jeez, you're actually serious about this." He laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh man. So what planet are you guys from? Venus? Mars?"

"Actually, we are from Equestria."

Equestria.The name sounded so ridiculous Drake wanted to laugh. It sounded like it belonged in a children's television show.

"And where is this? Somewhere in the middle of Asia?"

"A land in an alternate dimension."

"An alternate dimension?" he cried. "You don't say!"

"Yes. We are a race of peaceful ponies."

They were nuts.

"Ponies?" He nearly spat out his drink, coughing. "Ponies.You mean, like, horses? That go neigh and eat hay?"

"Not exactly…"

"You've gotta be kidding me." Drake tried to imagine talking horses. He was unable to prevent a smile from spreading across his face. "Okay then," he snickered, flicking a tomato around his dish.

Luna frowned. "You do not believe us."

He gulped down his drink and slouched. "Of course not! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You expect me to believe that?"

They glanced at each other.

"Perhaps we should show him."

"I agree, sister."

"Show me what?"

"Our true form."

"Oh, hear we go. What do we got? Holograms? Cloaking devices?"

There was a bright flash of light that blinded him instantly. He shouted and covered his eyes.

When his vision returned, right before his very eyes stood two winged unicorns in all of their majestic glory decked out in regalia.

"What?" he breathed.

They were real.

Their alabaster and midnight blue coats seemed to shimmer with brilliance. Their ethereal manes and tails undulated with pastel and inky colors. Their graceful wings were folded against their bodies. And their sparkling fuchsia and teal eyes were lit with amusement. It was as if his brain stopped working, unable to comprehend the existence of such aliens. He sat there on the cold floor, gawking at them like an idiot.

Aliens were real. Equestria, talking ponies! The whole thing!

"What are you?" Drake asked in a hushed voice.

He stood up slowly and blinked several times and rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren't an apparition. A hallucination. He slapped himself once. Twice. Ow. Had they drugged him? Was the salad poisoned? He felt numb. What was going on? His head swam with all these thoughts.

He warily approached the two godly creatures, who remained perfectly still and nonthreatening. He extended a shaky hand and placed his palm on Luna's snout. It was warm. And wet.

She scrunched her nose up and giggled, "That tickles."

Drake recoiled. "You talked!"

Luna rolled her eyes.

"But – but you're a horse!"

She furrowed her brow. "A pony, and the Princess of the Night, Drake Anderson. You would do well to remember that," she said tersely.

He pointed a shaky finger and stammered, "You're not supposed to talk! This doesn't make any sense! Horses don't talk and they definitely don't come in your colors! Oh jeez…" He cradled his aching head in his hands. He could taste the salad he just ate coming back up…

They let him catch his breath. His heart was racing.

Celestia interrupted. "We have proposition for you, Drake."

It took a while for him to get his bearings. His eyes were glazed, staring off into space, shaking his head slowly. He licked his lips and nodded. "I – I'm listening."

"Would you like to come to Equestria?"

His head spun. "Huh?" Drake squinted and cocked his head in confusion.

"We have elected you to be an ambassador for the human race," Luna answered.

His eyes widened as understanding began to set in. "Wait, what?"

Celestia said. "You shall be the first, and only human to ever visit Equestria."

"And your human government will simply have to accept our terms, whether they like it or not," Luna added.

"I'm sure your parents will accept you being a foreign exchange student. That doesn't sound too farfetched, does it?"

A species exchange program sounded more appropriate.

He tried to stand up, but his legs felt like jelly. Where was the bathroom? He nearly collapsed until Luna caught him with her weight, his arms brushing against her silky coat. She gave him a smile as he held onto her back. He could feel muscle and bone and warmth. He flinched and moved away from her, his skin tingling with a sensation that sent shivers up his spine.

Yep. Definitely real.

"Wait, wait, hold on a second here. Why me?" His mind conjured up thoughts of dissection. "What do you want with me?" he shouted, slamming his hands onto a table.

She was unfazed. "We have our reasons," she grinned.

He hated it when people tried to be all mysterious.

"We were being transported to your nation's capital when we witnessed your arrest. Pure coincidence, really."

Transported to D.C. To talk with the president? Why not Area 51? Coincidence. No. Drake was many things, but he was not a complete idiot. There was something more to this.

Luna admitted, "We were interested, to say the least. When we learned of why you were arrested, we requested to witness your interrogation. At first they were wary, but we managed to 'convince' them to let us watch."

"Why me? Why?" Drake wailed to nobody in particular, his arms outstretched to the ceiling.

Celestia said, "Interest. We were searching for a potential candidate to come to our universe. You seemed to fit the bill."

"No," he snapped. "You're lying."

"That's a very," Luna's eyes flashed, "boldaccusation to be making in your position."

He swallowed. One look was all it took to chill him to the core.

"You gotta have an angle. Look, I appreciate you bailing me out, but I – I can't do this!"

"You owe us, do you not?" Luna gave him a sly grin and clucked her tongue. "We could just hand you back to your government."

"You can't do this to me!"

"Of course we can!" Luna scoffed with an insufferable giggle.

"I'm not qualified to deal with all," Drake gesticulated, "all of this!" His voice cracked with the last word.

They regarded him sadly.

"It is only an offer," she sighed. "If you wish to refuse, you may do so and we shall bear no ill will. We will simply wipe your memories of ever meeting us," Luna said, slowly trotting away with her nose in the air, "and you can go back to living a clueless, pathetic existence."

"Luna!" Celestia admonished.

She huffed and turned, trotting away.

Celestia gave him a wry smile, which he did not return.

"I apologize for my sister's behavior. But in a way, she is right. You do owe us." She paused. "And I do hope you'll reconsider," Celestia told him, her eyes sparkling.

He said nothing. He clenched his fists.

Could he really do that? Could he really just run away to new world, just like that? The thought of being the first human to experience interdimensional travel through space and time was exciting. But other questions still remained unanswered.

Why did they choose him? He was just some dumb kid. A dumb kid with rotten luck who got into too many fights and aimed to pass in school with low marks. There were plenty of more qualified, capable candidates for this job. Why did they need an ambassador? When did they establish contact? When would the government tell the press? He could barely grasp the concept of aliens existing, but here they were, giving him the chance of a lifetime and were now walking away because he'd been too afraid to come with them.

Too afraid to break out of his comfort zone.

"Wait!"

They turned, already knowing the answer.

"Okay," he nodded, "okay, I'll do it."

---

The ride home was uneventful. At least he got to ride in a comfy limousine. He leaned against the cold glass of the windows and sighed, closing his eyes for a bit. Everything worked out. It was too perfect. He would be excused from attending school and his parents wouldn't suspect a thing.

"Go home and pack. We leave tomorrow evening," Luna told him.

And what was he supposed to pack?

They had specified several things. No weapons, no drugs, no leather, no meat products, and no technology. He was there to learn and record what he saw. And maybe show them a thing or two about human culture.

But nothing else.

He wondered why that was.

He doubted Equestria had any Wi-Fi anyways, so he didn't bother with his laptop. Ditto with his phone.

But the guidelines were incredibly vague. And presented plenty of loopholes. What was a drug? What defined a weapon? He certainly wasn't going to wander into any unknown territory without some form of protection. And Drake loved to exploit loopholes.

"Be ready by six o' clock tomorrow." It was the same man who'd interrogated him earlier.

Drake was about to protest, but kept his mouth shut. He was pretty sure the guy was packing anyways.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, looking past the wrought iron fencing that surrounded the house completely. An elegant brick path winded through the front yard to the porch, wet with dew. He fished a key out from his pockets and opened the front, pushing it open with a long, eerie creek.

"Home, sweet home."

The moonlight cast a shadow that stretched across the floor of the loft. To the right was a flight of stairs. Past the loft was the living room, and the kitchen. The house was spacious and grand, with ornate rugs spread across the floor. Paintings were hung on the wall, possibly in order to create some kind of facade that the owner of the home was actually cultured and tasteful. In every nook and cranny of the house, photo frames stood proudly on display.

They were nowhere to be found. No surprise, really. That was the entire reason they sent him to St. Anne's-Belfield anyway.

Whatever.

Drake blew the dust off one frame, regarding the subjects of the photo with resentment, and set it face down.

His room was exactly how he'd left it. Crushed soda cans spilled from out of a wastebasket. Clothes were strewn across the floor, everywhere but the dirty laundry basket. His desk was an absolute mess, with pencils and pens and sketchbooks spread out. His wall was covered with soccer posters, oh, and a map of the world. Books were stacked high in one corner of the room, instead of on the bookcase. He cracked open a mini fridge and sighed.

He could use a shower.

He let the hot water run, steam misting in the bathroom. It cascaded down his bruised, battered body as he let the filth wash away.

He was having a hard time coming to terms with everything. It was happening. This was all really happening. He had really met aliens. And he was going to their world. He felt like he was in a trance. A dream. Or a nightmare. He was sure the novelty of it all would soon wear off.

As he toweled himself off, he realized that he had no idea what Equestria was like. Was it some kind of tropical paradise? Or a freezing tundra? Or a scorching desert? Did they have modern technology that surpassed theirs? Or was their world some kind of Dungeons & Dragons-esque high fantasy world with a dash of sword and sorcery? Did monsters and fantastic mythical creatures roam free? Did Equestria obey the laws of physics? Of space and time? Probably not. Its existence defied all laws. It was an anomaly. It was scientifically impossible.

That was it. This was impossible.

He tore open his closet and after some digging, found a duffel bag. He began tossing in clothes that he thought were clean, but sprayed them for good measure. Some shirts and jeans and a few pairs of socks and boxers went in. Maybe he would go swimming. Swim trunks. Winter weather? A ski parka would do. Some gloves for any slave work he might be forced against his will to do. Towels, deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste

Drake thought of other necessities.

He took a bottle of ibuprofen in case the best Equestrian medical technology could do was herbal treatments and folk medicine. A flashlight, just in case Equestria was still stuck in the Dark Ages with candles and lanterns, the kind that he could clip on his belt.

Oh jeez, was his belt leather?

Drake grabbed his Swiss Army knife too. It was more of a tool than a weapon, and the blade was pathetic. He shoveled in some sketchbooks and pencils and a pair of binoculars, and some trail mix for something to munch on.

He juggled his soccer ball. Could ponies play soccer? Eh. Show 'em a game or two.

If he was going to be an ambassador, he might as well dress formally. He dug around in his closet and found a suit. He put on a white dress shirt and black dress pants. He wore the jacket unbuttoned.

Drake rolled onto his bed, sighing, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't sleep well.

When morning came he was already outside on the front porch, waiting.

He fished out a box and removed a cigarette, placing it between his lips, and flicked his lighter, touching the flame to the tip. The paper caught fire and he inhaled, letting the smoke fill his lungs and warm his insides. He exhaled, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips and nose. With all the recent events that indulging in a little bit of smoking would be justified, given what he'd been forced to go through in the past twenty-four hours. Drake began to cough violently and spat.

"Ugh. Disgusting."

He hated it. He hated the taste and the smell. The nauseating smoke wafted up to his nostrils as he kept it between his lips, not sucking in. Faint memories of his childhood flashed through his mind. A better place, a better time. Somewhere warm. He couldn't remember much. But one thing that always stood out to him was that distinct smell of cigarette smoke. Drake smirked.

"Same brand."

A car pulled up to the driveway. Luna and Celestia emerged from the vehicle, flanked by Secret Service. Instead of their nightgowns from the previous evening, they donned more practical winter clothes.

Luna's eyes bulged at the sight of Drake, or rather, what was between his lips. As soon as she caught the scent, she lunged at the boy. "You will drop that filthy habit this instant!" Luna boomed as she snatched the cigarette from Drake's hands.

"Hey!" Drake protested. "What gives?"

"Are you not aware of the harmful effects of smoking? This could kill you! Thank goodness we do not allow these in Equestria..."

He snatched it back and took another puff, blowing a ring of smoke in her face. "You've never seen a cigarette in your entire life and now you're preaching to me about lung disease? Give me a break!"

"You don't think we were born yesterday, do you?" Celestia chuckled. "We've been watching the human race for many years. I suspect we know your world better than you do, Drake."

So that explained it. They'd been waiting for the right time to reveal themselves.

Luna plucked the cigarette away from him and hurled it to the ground.

"What? I've only lit up like, two times!"

"Good! And you shall never again! Not as long as you're in Equestria!"

"Why on earth must you indulge in such harmful things?" Celestia murmured, crushing the cigarette underneath her heel.

"It's cold. I'm freezing. I'm antsy. I just wanted to warm up."

She sighed. "Shall we go, then?"

"Uh-uh, no way. Not until I get some answers."

Celestia squinted. "Yes?"

"Why me?"

"As I've said before..."

"No! I want an answer. A real answer. Why me? Why not anyone else?"

"I believe that the young often display profound wisdom when they are needed the most," she replied enigmatically.

Drake stared. "Okay. Could you repeat that, but in English this time?"

"She means that you're a lot smarter than you look," Luna snickered.

Celestia said, "There is more to you than meets the eye, Drake. You just need to see that."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." He sighed. "I've got no choice. Is that how it's going to be?"

"It was either you, or some dusty politician. We already have enough of those back in Canterlot," Luna remarked. "Is this your home?"

"No."

"It's lovely. Your family must be wealthy," Celestia noted.

"Money can buy convenience. Not happiness."

Drake slid into the car and slammed the door.

"Truer words have never been spoken," she murmured.

---

"Why don't you tell us a little about yourself?" Celestia offered.

"Where should I start?"

"From the beginning should be good."

"Well, when two humans love each other very much…"

They laughed.

"And your parents?"

"Oh." He rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. "They're just not around anymore." He snorted contemptuously.

The two were at a loss of words.

"But your file said..."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Celestia said with a hint of remorse. "Our condolences."

"Hah!"

Celestia ventured, "Is something the matter?"

Drake rolled his eyes. "They're alive and well, believe me, Princess."

"What makes you say that?" Luna asked.

"Well, Princess, I don't know, really," he said, his words oozing with sarcasm, "My mom's divorced, and now she's married to some rich old guy who's twice her age and as ugly as her. They're probably on some year-long vacation in the Bahamas, or something."

The Royal Sisters were rendered speechless by the callous nature of Drake's words, unable to decide whether or not they were disturbed more how casually he tossed them around, or his attitude towards his parents.

"Oh," Luna uttered.

"Oh my," Celestia said uneasily.

"Sometimes I wish they really were dead," he muttered.

Luna gasped. "You mustn't say things like that!"

Drake looked away, ashamed. "Sorry. Got carried away is all," he said quietly. "Won't happen again."

He sank down in his seat and remained silent for the rest of the trip. Celestia and Luna frowned, worry written across their faces.

---

Drake figured that he would have to be briefed on the responsibilities of an ambassador, or a cultural attaché, whatever that was. His eyelids started drooping the moment they handed him the folder. Go to Equestria and learn stuff. Don't screw up. Humanity's riding on you, boy. Somewhere in the middle of a rousing speech meant to inspire him not to royally screw up, Drake found himself caring less and less. Nothing was happening.

Just talk. Talk, talk, talk. How about some action?

Apparently it was a big deal, because evidently somebody in upper management was pissed that some snot-nosed brat was elected to represent humanity in a foreign universe. When people make your choices for you, you have no choice. But things worked out in the end.

They always did.

So when the time finally came he was taken to this laboratory.

Or, at least, that's where he thought he was being taken. Because it was so secret, he had to be blindfolded.

The tiles squeaked beneath his sneakers. Drake felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and stopped, and waited and listened.

The sound of horseshoes clopping against the floor. Celestia and Luna had transformed. Rapid-fire shuttering of cameras. Not the press. They were recording this.

He felt a breeze. A gentle wind that manifested within the room. Papers went flying. He removed his blindfold and found himself in a massive structure without a ceiling. The wind beginning to pick up speed, making it impossible to stay balanced. He fought to remain standing, shielding his eyes. Thunder rumbled and lightning crackled with fiery intensity outside as the ground began to shake. A light pierced through the heavens, connecting with the floor and began to glow, its luminescence growing brighter and brighter until there was a great explosion of magic.

A portal had been created in the floor. A bright, white light blinded him and he struggled to see. He squinted and covered his eyes.

His jaw dropped. "How?"

Celestia winked. "Magic."

Drake sucked in and jumped.

---

The first thing he saw when his vision cleared was unicorn with wide amber eyes and mint green coat and mane with silver highlights. She popped up in front of his face like a jack-in-the-box and pressed her muzzle against his.

"Hi!"

Drake did what any teenage boy would do when encountering such a creature.

Jump in the air and scream like a little girl.

Startled by the pony, Drake was on the ground, his heart racing. The unicorn scrambled over and squealed happily, jumping up and down on her hooves.

"I knew it! I knew you were real! They all said I was crazy, but I knew I wasn't crazy, and now you're here and I'm right! Ha-ha! I'm right, and they're wrong! A human, a real, live human!"

She gave Drake a huge grin that stretched from ear to ear. She had a crazed look in her eye, the occasional twitch adding to Drake's suspicions of the pony being utterly insane.

"What's your name?" he asked politely.

She screamed in delight, making Drake cringe.

"Oh my gosh, you talked! To me! I can't believe this is happening! I'm Lyra, Lyra Heartstrings!" she giggled, but then adding in a rather sultry tone, "But you can just call me Lyra," and fluttered her eyelashes.

Help.