“Give me a smart idiot over a stupid genius any day.”

Samuel Goldwyn

Twilight put on her sleek, stylish reading glasses and examined a pair of reports. She took a quill and jotted a few notes in the margins.

“Hmm.”

Spike set a stack of books on the table and sat down beside her. “So?”

“According to these results, my intelligence has suffered a dramatic reduction in general aptitude and abstract thinking.”

“So, you’re dumber now?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m still well above the median intelligence for a unicorn of my age and educational background.” Twilight shuffled the second report. “According to these results, my magical aptitude has experienced a similar drop in quantifiable performance.”

“Does that mean you can mess up a spell now?”

“We’ll have to see.” Twilight nudged her glasses up on her forehead, just under her horn. “This seems to indicate a change in intellectual and magical amplitude. I still know all the same facts and spells as before. It’s my ability to... to...”

Spike watched her for a moment. “Yeah? To what?”

“To... coordinate.” Twilight shook her head and scrunched her eyes shut. “That’s not the right word. It’s my ability to make connections. What is that word?”

“Insight?” said Spike.

“No, not that. Nevermind. It’s not actually my intelligence we’re worried about. It’s my capability. I need to be less capable.”

“So, are you?”

“I’m fairly certain. We’ll just have to try another test, and see what happens. I’ll need my notebook, for starters.” Twilight glanced around. “Where’s my reading glasses, anyway? I had them right here.”

Spike pointed at her head.

“What?” she said. “Is there something on my face?”

Spike climbed onto the table and plucked her reading glasses off her forehead.

“Just get my notebook.”

Spike ran off and went into the basement.

Twilight continued jotting notes on the reports. She stopped and slapped her forehead. “Comprehension! That’s the word!”

“All right. Is the recording device ready?”

Spike hefted the newly rebuilt machine onto the table and poked each of the readouts. “I think so. Should we run a few tests, first?”

“This is a test.” Twilight nudged her reading glasses up onto her forehead and sat upright. “Just keep an eye out for funny readings, and we’ll fix it as we go.”

Spike scratched his ear. “That doesn’t sound right. Aren’t we trying to look for funny readings?”

“On the spell, yes. But not the readouts. Just start it up.”

Spike shrugged and activated the device. “Everything looks normal. So far.”

“Great.” Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe Spell test, number one. I will now attempt to cast a levitation spell on one hundred marbles at once, using a spell designed to simulate the collision of metal particles in a magnetic field.”

Spike looked up from the device. “Who are you talking to?”

“You. Aren’t you writing this down?”

“How can I take dictation while I’m checking the readouts?”

“Oh. Well, I’ll just write it down myself.” She took up her notebook and looked around for a quill. “Where did I.... I swear it was here a second ago.”

Spike pointed at her head and opened his mouth to speak, but Twilight cut him off.

“Yes, I know where my glasses are.” She flipped her reading glasses back into place and got up from her chair. “I’ll just get another quill from the closet. Be right back.”

Spike watched her go. “The writing closet’s that way.”

Twilight turned a one-eighty. “I just got turned around. That’s all.”

She went to the supply closet and came back with a fresh quill.

“There we go. It’s always important to keep good logs. Now then!” She tucked the fresh quill behind her ear, right next to the first quill.

Spike stared at her for a moment. “That was a joke, right? You do that on purpose.”

She blinked at him. “Did what on purpose?”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe Spell test, number four. I will now attempt to cast a condensing spell on a glass of saturated salt water in an attempt to grow crystalline structures without a material anchoring.”

Twilight stared at the glass of liquid. Her horn glowed, and the liquid began to bubble. Condensation formed along the rim of the glass and a wisp of steam floated up. The liquid began boiling away, despite being at room temperature.

Spike watched as the last of the liquid vanished. “Aren’t there supposed to be crystals?”

Twilight stared at the empty cup. She lifted up a scroll and scanned the contents.

“Ohhh... right.”

“So, did the spell fail?”

“No. I was just using the wrong spell.” She set the scroll down. “Let’s try this again.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s failsafe Spell test, number eleven. I will now attempt to cast a spell that will split a beam of white light into a spectrum of its constituent frequencies without the use of a prism.”

Twilight set a small lamp on the table, specially designed to cast a narrow beam of light. Her horn glowed and a small shimmer appeared in the air, several inches beside the beam.

“Um... Spike? Could you adjust the lamp a few degrees? The light needs to pass through the spell.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“I can’t move. The spell requires complete concentration.”

“Well, I can’t leave the readout unattended. Can’t you just move the spell so it touches the beam?”

“It’s not that simple,” Twilight said, “this spell isn’t attached to a physical object. It’s just a coordinate in space.”

“So move the coordinate. You do that sort of thing all the time, don’t you?”

Twilight stared at the beam of light.

“Let’s just start over.” She canceled the spell.

Spike sighed and began resetting the recording device. He paused and looked up at Twilight. “Hey.”

Twilight didn’t look up from her scroll. “What?”

“If you’d moved your hooves while concentrating, what would have happened?”

“Hard to say. It it probably would have messed up the spell.”

Twilight looked up from her scroll, eyes wide.

“Ohhh.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe Spell test, number eighteen. I will now attempt to cast a spell that will tabulate the total number of—”

“Nineteen.”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“We’re on test number nineteen.”

“That’s what I said. Nineteen.”

“No, you said eighteen.”

Twilight watched Spike for a moment.

She scratched out a line on her scroll and scribbled something underneath. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe Spell test, number nineteen. I will now attempt to cast a spell that will tabulate the total number of jellybeans in a jar without—”

“We already did the jellybean test.”

Twilight looked up from her scroll. “We did? When?”

“Just now. It was test number eighteen.”

Twilight glanced about the room. “No it wasn’t.”

Spike glared at her.

Twilight crumpled up the scroll and tossed it aside. “Let’s, uh... let’s take a break.”

Spike arched an eyebrow. “Do you need some time to think of a nineteenth test?”

“I’m just hungry, that’s all. One should never science on an empty stomach.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “Science isn’t a verb, Twilight. It’s a noun.”

“Well, one should never... do... science. On an empty stomach.” She left the table. “Nevermind. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Spike pointed at the kitchen. “It’s over—”

“I know, I know!” Twilight turned around and went to the kitchen. “I just got turned around. That’s all.”

“What do you mean, you lost them?”

Twilight pointed at the kitchen counter. “I put them down right there, just a minute ago. And now they’re nowhere.”

“Well, they sure aren’t on your forehead.” Spike looked around the kitchen. “Do you remember what you were doing when you lost them?”

“I don’t know. I was getting a sandwich. There’s only so many places you can make a sandwich, aren’t there?”

“Just trying to help. Whenever I lose something, I try to think about what I was doing the last time I saw it.”

Twilight sighed. “Oh, nevermind. Just get my spare set from the bedroom dresser.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe spell test, number twenty six. I will now attempt to change the colour of a flower by dipping it in water, and then adding food coloring to that water.”

Spike looked up from the measurement device. “What?”

“No really!” Twilight set a freshly clipped flower into a glass of water. “See, plants don’t have a cardiovascular system like we do. They have vessels that resemble veins and arteries, but they don’t pump blood through them. They rely entirely on capillary action.”

Spike looked at the glass of water. “They do?”

“You know how if you take a dry towel and dip the corner into water, it sucks the water up? It’s like that.” Twilight lifted an eyedropper over the cup and squeezed a few drops of purple liquid into the water. “See, plants have two separate networks of tiny tubes running all through them. The ‘xylem’ tubes bring water and minerals up from the roots, while the ‘phloem’ tubes carry sap down to get rid of the excess sucralose produced by photosynthesis.”

Spike stepped away from the device and went to the table. “Twilight?”

“It’s sort of like how our lungs absorb oxygen from the air, but they also get rid of carbon dioxide.” Twilight gasped and leaned down close. “Look-look-look it’s totally doing it! See? The petals are turning pink around the edges!”

Spike frowned at her. “Yes. I see it.”

“So cool! This was one of the first science projects I ever did. I even got second place in a science fair for it! I know it doesn’t seem like much, but...” Twilight sighed and leaned on the table. “Wow. This is really bringing back the memories, isn’t it?”

Spike watched the cup. “Twilight.”

Twilight looked up at him, still smiling. “Mm-hm?”

“This is cool and all, but what does any of this have to do with magic?”

Twilight gazed back at him, still smiling. “It, uh... well...”

Spike went back to the recording device. “Gimme a minute to reset the device.”

“What do you mean, the device is wrong?”

Spike opened up a panel of the recording device. “Dunno what to tell you. This is the third time in a row we’ve gotten goofy numbers, and they’re the same kind of goofiness every time. Three times in a row can’t be a coincidence.”

“I put that thing together myself. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Spike poked at the wires inside the machine. “Fact number one: Your last spell worked. Fact number two: the device said it didn’t work. They can’t both be right.”

Twilight’s eyes lit up. “Then my spell must have actually failed! This is wonderful!”

Spike pointed at a tea set on the table. “You cast a ‘brew some tea’ spell. And what did it do? It brewed some tea. How can you call that a failure?”

“Well, maybe it was really awful tasting tea.”

“You didn’t cast a ‘brew some tasty tea’ spell. And besides, there’s—” Spike reached further into the device, and paused. He pulled out a knife covered with blueberry jelly. Some wires were stuck to it.

“Oh that’s where I left it! I was making some adjustments while you were getting more scrolls, and I felt like a snack. Kind of funny, when you think about it.” Twilight levitated the knife and walked away. “I’ll go wash this off and put it away.”

Spike pointed across the room. “Kitchen!”

“I know, I know!”

“Twilight?” Spike knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you in there? We need to think of an idea for test thirty seven.”

“Uh... right. Just a minute.”

“You’ve already been in there for ten minutes.”

“Sorry... sorry. I just need to find something.”

“Find something? What’s going on in there?”

“My, uh... nothing. I know they’re in here.”

Spike frowned at the door. “Are they on your forehead?”

“I don’t think so.”

Spike crossed his arms. “Do you think... or do you know?”

There was a moment of silence.

“No. They’re definitely not on my forehead.”

“Well, when was the last time you...”

“In here, alright? I just put them down for a second to wash my face. I know they’re in here somewhere.”

“You lost your glasses in the bathroom? How is that even possible? It’s the smallest room in the library!”

“Give me a break, okay? I almost never wear them. I’m just not used to them is all.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they’re only reading glasses. How often do you read?”

Twilight opened the door and poked her head out, glowering. “Just get my spare set.”

“That was your spare set.”

Twilight’s anger changed to alarm. “I’ve got to have another set somewhere. Right?”

Spike stroked his chin.

Half an hour later, Spike came out of the basement covered in dust and cobwebs. He set an eyeglass case on the table in front of Twilight, and she turned them around and brushed them off.

“Dewy Decimal! Where did you even get these?”

“They were in a box marked ‘grade school stuff.’ They were all I could find.”

Twilight opened the case with a rusty squeak and took out the horn rim glasses within. Their frames were heavy and the lenses were thick as soda-bottle bottoms. One hinge was stuck together with tape and a bent paperclip.

Spike stared at the artifact. “I think those are older than I am. Are you sure they’ll work?”

“I don’t think my prescription has changed. Much.” She turned the eyeglasses around in midair. “I’m only short-sighted within twenty centimeters, but my parents didn’t figure that out until later on. The made me wear these all the time.”

“You, uh... don’t have to wear them. In public, I mean. We could order you a new pair.”

“My opthamologist is in Canterlot. I’m not wasting twenty-five bits on a same-night delivery just for this.” She put the glasses on and nudged them up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll order a new pair and use these until they arrive. It’ll only be a day or two.”

Twilight stood up from her chair, but leaned back in alarm. “Whoa... this might take some getting used to.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “This is Twilight Sparkle’s Failsafe spell test, number forty one. I will now attempt to cast a spell that will—”

A massive crash echoed from the kitchen. Spike and Twilight rushed over and saw a heap of pots and pans on the floor.

“Looks like the shelf fell apart,” Spike said, “but why would it do that all at once? It’s a pretty strong shelf.”

Twilight lifted up one of the pans. “Déjà vu. Why do I feel like this has happened before?”

“Wait a minute. This has happened before!” Spike lifted up the two halves of the broken shelf. “Remember when I stacked too many pots, and the shelf broke apart? Big Mac was gone for the week, so you used a spell to hold it together until he returned.”

“Oh, yeah,” Twilight said. “Wow... wasn’t that a couple months ago?”

“Eighteen months!” Spike hurled both halves of the board aside. “You were supposed to call Big Mac about it as soon as he returned!”

“Well, I guess I forgot.”

“You mean you’ve been maintaining a magic spell for a year and a half? And you didn’t even realize it!?”

“Maybe! I don’t know!” Twilight paced back and forth. “I juggle background spells all the time. I can’t be expected to remember every tiny little insignificant detail!”

Spike looked at the shelf. “Wait. Why did it break now? Did the spell wear off or something?”

“Well, even simple spells require some concentration. I was probably just distracted by all this science. Speaking of which, we should get back to work.” She went back into the main hall of the library.

Spike chased after her. “Twilight! Do you have any other spells going on?”

“I dunno. Probably a few, here and there.”

Spike ran in front of her and grabbed her face. “Twilight. Think. If this spell fell apart while you weren’t paying attention, then what else could go wrong?”

Twilight stared off into space. “Nothing... comes to mind.”

Spike let go of her face. He staggered a few steps back, then ran from the library.

“Raaaarity!” Spike sprinted down main street, waving both hands in the air. He clambered up the steps to Carousel Boutique and pounded on the door. “Rarity, help! Help, help, help!”

Rarity called out through a window. “It’s not even locked, Spike! Just come on in!”

Spike threw open the door, ran inside, and slammed it behind him. “Rarity! You’ve gotta help me! You’re the only other unicorn I know of, and—”

He froze in place as he saw Applejack standing on a podium, surrounded by mirrors. She was wearing a pressed black skirt and a button-down shirt, and was busy clasping a tie around her collar. Instead of her usual boots or cleated horseshoes, she was wearing glossy black one-inch heels. Rarity was holding an unfinished formal jacket against her, measuring the cuffs.

“What.” Spike pointed at Applejack. “Is that.”

“It’s jes’ a business suit, Spike. Ah figured it was about time I broke down and got one. Seein’ as how I do just happen to run a business.”

Spike walked to the podium. “But you hate fancy wear!”

“Fancy, yes. But formal?” Applejack shuffled her shoulders and lifted her nose. “It’s a sign of dignity and maturity. It shows that yer willin’ to be treated as an equal, even amongst a community of professionals. Mutual respect, and all that.”

“Very well said, Applejack!” Rarity said and wrapped a tape measure around her midsection. “Really, I don’t know how you got along without one before now. Everypony should own at least one good suit.”

“Actually, I kinda like it.” Applejack leaned to one side and examined her reflections. “I mean, it’s not an everyday sorta thing. But still.”

“No!” Spike staggered back and fell on the floor. “Not you too!”

“ ‘Not me too’ what?” Applejack said.

Spike ran from the boutique, shrieking. “Get away from me, pod-ponies!!”

“Rainbow Dash!! Heeeelp!”

“Spike?” Rainbow Dash peered down from the balcony of her cloud estate. “What’re you yelling about?”

“Emergency! Big! Twilight! Magic! Dumber! Pod-ponies!”

Dash hovered down next to him. “Slow down there, baby-scales. What’s the big deal?”

Spike climbed up onto Dash’s back and grabbed her mane. “It’s Twilight! I think something might have gone horribly wrong!”

Dash looked back at him, genuinely worried. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“I don’t know exactly how bad it is... but it’s bad.” Spike wrung his claws together. “I’m sure there’s magic involved, so I tried asking Rarity about it... but Applejack was right there with her. I couldn’t just spill the beans in front of her.”

“That’s just crazy talk. You can trust Applejack with anything.”

“She’s involved, somehow. I think it’s affecting both of them.” Spike’s bottom lip trembled. “It wasn’t supposed to, I swear! It was only supposed to affect Twilight!”

Dash landed in front of the library and shoved the door open. Spike hopped off her back and looked around the main hall.

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure something out. It can’t be—hold on a second.” Dash turned and pointed at someone by the reference shelf. “Geek!”

Twilight’s head shot up and she glanced around. “What? Where?”

“Twilight!?” Dash gasped in shock. “What’s with the glasses!?”

“I lost my usual pair. And my spare.” Twilight walked over, levitating a dozen fountain pens. The glow flickered, and the pens fell to the floor. “Dangit!”

Rainbow Dash stared, aghast, as Twilight struggled to levitate the heap of pens all at once. She clenched her jaw with effort and managed to lift half of them.

Dash pointed at them. “What’re... those?”

“Fountain pens. They’re less fuss than quills, and you don’t have to reload them with ink every twelve seconds.” She levitated one and removed the cap. “See here? The pen nib is connected to a little tube of ink that relies on capillary action to draw—”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, poindexter.”

“Um... kay. Is there anything I can do for you? I’m in the middle of a very important scientific experiment here.”

“Yeah, whatever. Spike was worried about some kind of disaster or something. Know anything about that?”

“You mean the shelves in the kitchen? They fell over.”

Dash eyed Spike. “Is that all?”

“Not that!” said Spike. “Twilight’s magical talent is fading, and some of her spells are falling apart! A long time ago, she used magic to fix the shelf. But we never got it for real fixed. So when the spell failed—”

“The shelf fell apart again,” Dash said. “So what’s the big deal? Get a new shelf.”

“It’s not that!” Spike said. “She could have other spells in place that she’s forgotten about!”

“I did remember something else, though,” Twilight said. “I keep daily reports of all my activities. We can look through them for reminders!”

“Really?” Dash said. “Well great then. Let’s get started.”

Twilight hefted a gargantuan stack of loose scrolls onto the table.

“There’s two more stacks like this in the back. And three more downstairs.”

Dash stared at the leaning tower of paper. “You keep daily records? Of everything you do?”

“Oh, yes! It’s like a diary and a spreadsheet at the same time. I could make spreadsheets all day! It’s almost as much fun as accounting, but not as—”

“Geek!” Dash shouted in her face.

Twilight adjusted her glasses and looked around. “What? Where?”

Dash clapped a hoof over her mouth. “I... I’m sorry! I dunno why I...” She stared down at her own hoof.

Spike pointed at the stack of papers. “There’s no way we can sort through these in time! There’s no telling what could fall apart next. Or when! We could have days, hours... maybe seconds!”

Dash pursed her lips. “So these spells of hers. They’re happening right now?”

“Yes! She’s gotten so good at it that she doesn’t even think about it anymore! She was keeping the shelves together—through sheer force of will—ever since we moved to Ponyville!”

“That’s kinda spooky. But what else did she...” Dash’s eyes widened. “...Oh. Oh no.”

Dash grabbed Spike and zoomed out of the library, leaving behind a rainbow trail that was crooked with ninety-degree angles.

“What do you mean, you don’t know!?” Dash pointed up at the massive concrete dam overlooking Ponyville. “If that dam breaks, again, it’ll flood all of Ponyville!”

The mayor shuffled through a hefty binder. “But it was fixed! The mysterious Mare Do Well used her magic to repair the damage completely!”

“Yeah,” Dash said and glared at Twilight. “She sure did.”

Twilight shook her head. “Technically, the damage wasn’t repaired. It was only being held together by magical force. There was no molecular bonding, and the physical structure alone probably isn’t enough to support the structure’s mass.”

“My goodness!” The mayor said. “But it looks pristine!”

“Looks can fool you,” Dash said. “Did you ever get an engineer to take a closer look at it?”

“I don’t think anypony even considered that,” The mayor said. She looked down at the binder and flipped through the last few pages. “I don’t see a receipt in here for construction work or an engineering assessment. Do you think we should have it reinforced, just in case?”

“It couldn’t hurt, that’s for sure. And I’d hurry.”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Twilight hopped in place. “I did some reading up on concrete! There’s all kinds of keen new aggregates on the market that are especially resistant to water damage! They’re made of extra fine particles that—”

“Geek!”

Spike, Twilight, and the Mayor all stared at Dash.

“Sorry!” Dash grabbed Spike and set him on her back. “Look, just get that dam taken care of as soon as possible. I need to look into something else.”

“What about me?” Twilight said.

“You’ve done plenty enough already, four-eyes!” Dash gasped and covered her mouth. “I didn’t... I gotta go!”

Spike pointed at Twilight. “You go back to the library and wait for us there.”

“But shouldn’t I help out? I can help!”

“No! We... we need you to... make a miniature volcano. Can you do that for us?”

Twilight gave him a single, resolute nod, and ran off towards the village.

Dash hovered up and streaked over the rooftops, heading straight for Carousel Boutique.

“Spike? Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do I keep saying mean things to Twilight? I never make fun of ponies and I hate bullies, but everytime I see her... I dunno. I just get the urge to shove her in a locker or something!”

Spikes’ eyes widened. “Dash, that’s horrible!”

“You think I don’t know that!?” Dash said. “I know it’s terrible, but I just can’t stop myself! It just spills out!”

Spike looked across the rooftops. “We’ll have to deal with one problem at a time.”

Dash burst into the boutique, knocking the door off its hinges. “Rarity! We gotta—”

Rarity slammed a hoof on her sewing table. She got up and walked to the door, glaring at them all the while.

“Rare? You okay?”

Rarity’s horn glowed and the door lifted up. She leaned it against the wall and pointed at the lever. “Put your hoof here.”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Would you relax, already?”

“Ut-ut-ut!” Rarity pointed at the lever.

Dash sighed and set her hoof on the lever.

“Now. Push it down.”

Grudgingly, Dash pushed the lever down.

“Marvelous,” Rarity said. “I’ll mail you the repair bill. What was it you wanted?”

“We need you to take a look at Twilight. She’s turned into a total geek!”

“So? She’s always been a little geeky. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Dash shook her head. “It’s getting worse. Way worse. Seriously.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?”

“It was magical!” Spike said. He hopped off of Dash’s back and fell to his knees. “Rare, you’ve gotta help us! You’re the only other unicorn we know!”

Rarity pursed her lips. “I’ll do whatever I can, but I can’t promise much. I’m not nearly as good with magic as Twilight is.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Dash said. “I’ll go get the others and meet up at the library.”

Spike glanced about the boutique. “What about Applejack? She isn’t here, is she?”

“She left an hour ago, actually. Said she had to write some letters.”

Spike wrung his claws. “Maybe we should leave her out of this for now.”

Rarity marched out through the broken doorway. “We all do this together, or not at all.”

By the time Rarity and Spike returned to the Library, it was nearing sunset. Rarity opened the front door and peered inside. The main room was dark.

“Twilight? Are you there? I think we need to talk.”

A staccato, high-pitched giggle echoed out from the darkness, punctuated by a series of snorts. A deep red light lit Twilight Sparkle’s face from beneath and cast a giant flickering silhouette against the wall behind her. A sizzling explosion of bloody-red foam burbled over the edge of the table.

“Eeeeeee!!” Rarity slammed back against the door. “Pleather Princesses of Phobos! What was that!?”

Twilight’s horn glowed and the lamps lit up the library. She pranced over with the clumsy gait of a month old deer, still giggling and snorting. Her thick glasses magnified her eyes into a distorted, googly horror.

“Hiya, Rarity! I was just testing my miniature volcano. I put a glass cup in the middle, and then put a really bright glow-crystal underneath it so it looks like the lava is actually on fire!” Twilight grinned, revealing a mouthful of sturdy dental braces. “Pretty neat, huh?”

Rarity pointed at the thick metal struts, wide-eyed and trembling. “Wh-wh-where did those come from!?”

“Where did what come from?”

“You’re teeth, dear! Sweet Celestia’s saddle pad, what did you put on your teeth!?”

“Oh these? They’re my orthodontic headgear. They’re supposed to fix my slight overbite, and my slight underbite.” Twilight’s smile faded. “I’ve had them since I was six. You never knew?”

Spike clenched his teeth. “Nopony knows because you use an invisibility spell to keep them hidden. Because you’re absolutely terrified that everypony will find out you wear braces.”

“Really? Wow. I guess it slipped my mind.” Twilight went back to the table and wiped up the foamy, red ‘lava.’ “I don’t see what the big deal is, really. I’m sure nopony will judge me by my appearance.”

“Right!” Spike said. He looked at Rarity, who was still slack jawed. He nudged her with his elbow. “Right?”

Rarity shivered and straightened her back. “Twilight? I’d like to see your volcano again. Why don’t you go set it up while I have a word with Spike.”

“Sure thing! Just let me get some more baking soda.” Twilight went toward the basement at a wobbly-kneed gait.

“Kitchen!” Spike said, and pointed.

Twilight spun around. “I know, I know. I just got turned around. Happens to everypony.”

Spike watched her go, then turned to Rarity. “So, what do we do?”

Rarity’s horn glowed, and every window shuttered shut. She leaned down with a harsh whisper. “Don’t breathe a word of this to anypony. Do you understand?”

“But... but you said we needed everypony’s help! Won’t they find out eventually?”

“Not if we can help it.” Rarity looked towards the kitchen. “This is far worse than I expected.”

Rainbow Dash zoomed over Ponyville. There were only a few ponies in the streets, enjoying the cool evening air.

All right, Dash... gotta get everypony to meet up at the library, and gotta do it fast. It’s pretty late, so everypony will probably be at home. She skidded to a halt over ponyville’s modest train station as she caught sight of a familiar straw-blonde ponytail. Or not.

She swept down low and landed on the loading platform, right next to Applejack. “Hey there! What’re you doing out so late?”

The orange earth pony turned to face her. She was wearing a formal black suit, complete with a red-striped tie and glossy high heels. Dash stared at her frameless oval glasses and the faint tint of makeup on her cheeks and eyelids.

“Oh, jeez! Sorry, lady. I thought you were somepony else.”

“I ain’t no ‘lady’,” Applejack chuckled, “I work for a living! Who’re ya lookin’ for?”

“Applejack!?”

“Well, who else would ah be?”

Rainbow Dash glanced around the train platform. “Seriously, A.J. What’s going on here?”

“Jes’ doin’ some business.” Applejack continued walking along the platform. “I visit the train station all the time.”

“At eight o’clock in the evening? You always wake up before dawn.”

“I’m actually on a pretty tight schedule here. I need to get something done by tomorrow evenin,’ or it won’t get done at all.”

Dash flinched as Ditzy Doo landed nearby. “Miss Jack?”

“Right. Here you go.” Applejack gave her a small stack of envelopes, stamped and addressed. “And come back A.S.A.P. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Dash looked at Ditzy Doo. “Since when did you start doing special courier jobs?”

Ditzy shrugged. “Since Applejack started paying me twenty five bits per delivery. She’s been sending letters all day!”

“Ut-ut-ut!” Applejack said. “I’d thank you to keep your non-disclosure contract firmly in mind.”

“Sorry, Miss Applejack.” Ditzy Doo flew away at full speed.

Rainbow Dash turned to Applejack. “What are you doing?”

“Writin’ letters. Can’t a pony write a few letters without an inquisition?”

“To who?”

“That’s confidential financial information. It’s jes’ bidness.”

“What kind of business?”

Applejack shot her a stern look. “None ah yours, that’s fer sure.”

Dash’s eyes widened “Are you actually keeping secrets?”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault the guv’ment afforded private corporations the same right to privacy that individuals currently enjoy. It’s allowed ten percent of the population to amass ninety percent of Equestria’s gross national product, and ah fully intend to lobby for its dismissal as soon as possible. But for the time bein’, it provides me with a degree of economic leverage that ah simpy can not do without.”

Dash tilted her head and flipped one ear up. “Wha-huh!?”

“I’ll explain it later. Maybe. But right now, I’m awful busy.” Applejack went to the front of the train and knocked on the door. “Howdy there! Is the conductor in?”

The door opened and a huge, burly, soot-covered stallion stepped out. He was head and shoulders taller than either of them. “Evenin,’ Miss Applejack. What can I do for you?”

“Thassa mighty fine choo-choo ya got there, mister!”

“Much obliged.” He kicked the side of the metal railing with a satisfying clunk. “Was my pappy’s train, and his pappy’s before. This here locomotive was the first cargo express that came to Ponyville. Practically the lifeblood of the frontier! We’re real proud of her, and she’s got at least another decade in her yet.”

Applejack shot him a winning smile. “I’ma buy yer train, please.”

“A shipment, eh? How many carts do you need to rent?

“Not rent. Buy. As in purchase.”

The stallion straightened up. “Why would you wanna buy a flatbed? It won’t go nowhere without a steamer.”

“Clearly. I’m fixin’ to buy the whole train.”

The stallion glowered down at her. “Now listen here, missy. The old girl’s been in the family for two generations, and I’m not about to leave my crew out in the rain. She’s not to be bought nor sold for anything.”

Applejack scribbled in a small booklet, tore off a strip of paper, and held it in front of the conductor's face. His eyes fixed on the number of zeroes written on its surface.

Applejack shot him another winning smile. “I’ma buy yer train, please.”

The conductor took the slip of paper and went back into the cabin. When he came out, he was wearing a tilly hat and a garishly colored tropical shirt. He had a fishing pole over his shoulder and a pair of saddlebags full of tackle. The rest of the train’s crew stared at him as he wandered away, whistling to himself.

“Y’all want yer jobs back?” Applejack called out. “There’s full medical.”

One of the stallion called down from a window. “What about dental?”

“Darn tootin’!” Applejack said. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away, doesn’t it?”

Dash ran over to her. “Are you crazy!? Nopony just buys a whole train!”

“Actually, yes. They do. In fact, every train currently in operation is privately owned by a wealthy individual or family.” Applejack gazed up at the giant steam engine. “Until now, that is. This here is the proud new property of Sweet Apple Acres!”

“But... sweet apple acres is your family!”

“As of this mornin’ it’s Sweet Apple Acres Incorporated. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a quick chat with my new employees. Time is money, and all that.”

Rainbow Dash skidded to a halt in front of the library and opened the door as quickly as she could. Spike and Rarity stopped arguing as she came in.

Dash slammed the door behind her. “Okay. We are now officially living in Freaky Town.”

Rarity ran over to her. “Did you tell the others? Are they on their way?”

“Sorry, no. I got kind of sidetracked by something.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Rarity dragged Dash over to a table and sat her down. “We can’t let anypony find out about this. It would reduce Twilight’s already tenuous social life to complete and utter ruin!”

“Why? Did you figure out what’s going on?”

Rarity took a breath. “Spike explained as much as he could. Apparently, Twilight used a spell on herself and Applejack. It was supposed to reduce Twilight’s intelligence to Applejack’s level.”

Spike wrung his claws together. “She wanted to make herself dumber so she would mess up a spell. I swear, it was never supposed to do anything to Applejack!”

“Well it did!” Dash said. “She’s gone completely bonkers. She was wearing a business suit. In public. Just five minutes ago, she bought a whole train. She’s also been writing letters since yesterday, non-stop. No idea where they’re going but she’s paying Ditzy Doo a fortune to deliver them in a hurry!”

“The suit,” Rarity whispered. “I should have known something was up. I should have seen the signs.” Rarity sat down with sigh. “At first I thought Twilight had simply transferred her intelligence to Applejack. But this is more than just raw intellect: Twilight is technically still a genius.”

Spike held up a sheaf of papers. “She passed an advanced calculus exam with flying colors, and yet she can barely remember what day of the week it is. She’s using fountain pens because she can’t remember how to sharpen a quill. She can’t even dress herself properly!”

“So she’s a geek,” Dash said. “Wasn’t she always a geek?”

Rarity shook her head. “A geek is competent. Resourceful. They’re quirky and eccentric, but still good natured about it. They can still function in society. They even have their own social cliques. At the moment, Twilight doesn’t have any of that. She’s not a geek anymore. She’s... she’s a...”

Dash leaned forward. “A what?”

Rarity shut her eyes and looked away. “A nerd.”

Some of the colour drained from Dash’s face. It took her several seconds to find her voice steady. “Oh, god. We gotta... we gotta do something. What can we do?”

“I’m sorry, Dash. There is no cure.” Rarity shook her head. “With enough effort she might be able to lead a normal life, but there’s nothing we can—”

“Don’t give me that!” Dash said. “This was because of a magic spell, wasn’t it? There must be some way to undo it! You’re a unicorn, aren’t you? Do some kind of magical boogidyboo!”

“The mind-switcher spell didn’t change her, Dash! It amplified something that was already inside her. It was buried in the darkest corners of her psyche... she was always a nerd!”

“Shut up! Just shut your face!” Dash shot up from her seat and slammed her front hooves on the table. “Don’t you dare call her that! She’s our friend! It’s not true!”

Rarity and Spike both recoiled. Dash lowered her head, shoulders trembling. A few drops fell to the table.

There was a distant crash of thunder outside. Drops of water spattered against the windows.

“It’s not true.”

“There’s still hope. She kept it from us all this time, so she must have had coping mechanisms... mental techniques to get her through life, one day at a time. The spell may have interfered with that. If we can reverse the spell, she might go back to the way she was before.” Rarity stood up and went to Dash’s side, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “But that won’t change what—or who—she is.”

Dash slapped her hoof aside and stomped away. She went to the front door and leaned against the frame, watching the fresh rainfall.

Rarity went to her side. “She’s still our friend. This doesn’t change anything.”

“It might.” Rainbow Dash clenched her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Rarity. I can’t help her.”

“But she needs us! Now more than ever!”

“I think you’re better off without me for now. I’d only do more harm than good.” Dash flew off into the rainy night.

Rarity looked back at Spike. “We’re on our own for this, Spike. Get Twilight.”

Spike nodded, and jogged to the kitchen. He immediately ran back out. “She’s gone!”

“Gone!?” Rarity said. “What do you mean, gone? Where was the last place you saw her?”

“I dunno! In the kitchen! She was refilling her miniature volcano or something! She must have wandered out through the side door!”

“You let her leave the building!” Rarity grabbed Spike and shook him by the shoulders. “Are you absolutely mad!? She’s in no state to walk about in public! Someone could find out about her!”

“Maybe... maybe she’s in the basement! Or the bedroom!”

“Search the library, top to bottom! If she isn’t here, we’ll have to search the entire village!”

Spike nodded and ran to the basement.

Rarity went into the kitchen and stared at the papier-mâché volcano, lovingly sculpted and painted. She peered down at the tiny wire-frame figures of native pony villagers, perpetually fleeing in terror.

Oh, Twilight... how long have you been holding this in? Why didn’t you tell us? Did you think we wouldn’t understand? Rarity looked away. Could we have?

Her ears perked up as she saw a faint dusting of white powder on the floor. The pantry cupboard was slightly ajar. She opened it up and peered inside. A small box of baking soda was resting on its side, completely empty.

A creeping horror trickled along her spine.

“Spike. I know where she’s gone.”

Pinkie Pie hauled a platter of tiny creme puffs into the main room of Sugarcube Corner, where a crowd of colorful ponies talked and laughed. Streamers hung on every wall fixture and confetti carpeted the floor. There were bright colored lights everywhere, and a live three-piece band drowned out the dreary rainfall outside.

“Hey, everypony! Who wants seconds?”

The crowd closed in around her, smiling brightly. She struggled to keep the platter even but by the time she set it on the table, it was empty.

“Geez, guys!” she giggled. “It’s a good thing I already have a third helping in the oven.”

The crowd cheered, and a chorus of paper noisemakers sounded off.

Pinkie Pie headed back for the kitchen, but stopped to watch a game of pin-the-tail-on-the-pony. The party’s guest of honor was just taking off her blindfold.

“Nice pin, Storm!” said Pinkie. “Having fun?”

“Are you kidding? This is the best party ever! Thank you so much, Pinkie Pie!”

“Hey, it’s not everyday somepony gets promoted to captain of the cheerleader squad! I bet you’ll be a professional cheerleader after you finish college!”

“Wow, really? I dunno... I’m not that good.”

A powerfully built colt called out from the crowd. “Are you kidding? The Ponyville Puffins never could have won last year's game without you.”

“Yeah,” another colt said, “remember that three tiered victory pyramid you did? Amazing! You shoulda seen the other team’s faces!”

Storm’s smile became less bashful as the crowd cheered its support. Pinkie Pie took her empty platter and went back towards the Kitchen, humming along with the dance music.

All at once, the lights went out. The crowd groaned and jeered, and the music came to a halt.

“Whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay!” Pinkie Pie shouted. “Probably just the storm. It’ll be back on in a minute!”

“Well, what do we do until then?”

“We got a fireplace, don’t we?” Pinkie Pie said. “Let’s roast some marshmallows and make smores! Everypony loves s'mores, right?”

There was a round of cheers, but a loud thump at the front door cut it off. Everypony looked to the entrance, whispering.

“There’s somepony still out there? It’s raining cats and dogs!”

“Let ’em inside already,” somepony said, “they were probably late to the party.”

Pinkie Pie glanced about the darkened room, taking stock of every face or cutie mark in attendance. She couldn’t be sure, but she had a feeling the invitation list was fully accounted for. The crowd grew restless as the thumping continued.

“Well, somepony should open it. Right?”

The crowd turned to look at Pinkie Pie. Slowly, she walked to the front door. She looked back at the crowd and noticed they’d all backed away from her.

“Get back to it, everypony!” she said with a tentative smile. “This is a party, isn’t it?”

The crowd murmured. Pinkie set her hoof on the door latch and pushed it down.

The door swung open violently and a blast of frigid air swept through the room. A lone figure stood in the doorway: a crack of lightning lit her from behind and Pinkie Pie gasped in horror.

“Hiya neighbor! Do you think I could borrow some—”

Pinkie Pie slammed the door shut and pressed her back against it. She gasped for breath and her heart pounded in her ears.

Storm stepped out from the crowd. “Who was it?”

Pinkie Pie pointed at the back of the room. “Everypony out the back door! Now!”

“But the party—”

“Is over!” Pinkie Pie shouted. “There’s no time to explain!”

There was a second crack of lightning, louder and nearer than the first. The room flickered with white-hot light and—in between those flickers—a lavender unicorn appeared in the middle of the room. She was simply... there. Her horn rim glasses gleamed in the light and a lunatic grin revealed a grid of metal struts clamped over her teeth.

No! It’s impossible!

All at once, the lights came back on. Everyone stared at Twilight as she closed a metal panel in the wall. “There we go! These magi-crystal circuits tend to glitch out when there’s a storm. All you had to do was unplug the secondary capacitor array and flip the heliotropic resonance anode. But I mean, duh... obviously. Good thing I always keep a soldering iron on me!”

Pinkie Pie stared at her, searching for any remnant of her friend in those demented, fun-house mirror eyes. “Please, no... nooo!” Her voice was barely a whisper.

The crowd backed away. “Who’s that?” Somepony called out.

“Nopony!” Pinkie Pie shouted. She ran in front of Twilight and shielded her from the crowd with her own body. “She’s just... a visiting crazy pony! She’s nopony!”

“Golly Pinkie Pie, I thought you knew everypony in town. I’m Twilight Sparkle! Actually, my middle name is Gertrude. So it’s Twilight Gertrude Sparkle.”

“No!” Pinkie Pie hissed at her, pleading. “No, you’re not! Please don’t be!”

Twilight levitated a measuring cup into view. “Do you think I could borrow a cup of baking soda? You live in a bakery, so I thought of you. I’m making a super-cool miniature volcano, and it’s gonna be totally non-trivial! Y’see, when you mix acids and bases together it produces a chemical reaction that—”  She trailed off as she looked around the room.

“Now Twi,” Pinkie whispered. “Let’s not do anything hasty.”

“Hey, wow! Is this a party? Is there Karaoke? I love karaoke!”

Twilight reared up and brayed a few broken notes from a song that had been inexplicably popular fifteen years ago. The crowd stampeded in utter panic, fleeing into the other rooms and leaping out doors and windows.

“Hey wow! I didn’t know there were boys at this party! Who wants to dance?”

One of the stallions from the soccer team uttered a high-pitched squeal of terror and fainted. Pinkie Pie tried to regain control of the panicked crowd, but it was too late. The screaming had already begun. She wondered, in the back of her mind, if this hideous puppet had somehow retained Twilight’s ability to teleport. If so, there was no point in running.

There would be no escape.

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