Labour to keep alive in your Breast that Little Spark of Celestial fire Called Conscience.

— George Washington.

TWILIGHT

Ponyville, midnight. A warm breath of approaching summer danced down the town’s empty streets and stirred the leaves of the Golden Oaks Library. Most of the Library’s windows were dark. But, half-hidden in the upper boughs, a solitary light glowed.

Princess Twilight Sparkle was immersed in study. She had, in her years as Princess Celestia’s protégé, struggled through many ancient books of arcane lore. The B’harn Fragments. The Piekotic Manuscripts. Unaussprechlichen Colten. The Equinomicon. Yet, Twilight had rarely been as challenged as she was this night.

Tonight, she was trying to make heads or tails of the Ponyville Municipal Code.

It had started out so simply: the Ponyville Charter. Two pages, declaring the foundation of the town. The second page was mostly the signatures of the happy townsfolk.

Then the “Little Book,” Laws and Such, a tiny volume written by Stinkin’ Rich, Granny Smith and Big Carrot. Forty pages of “notions” from Ponyville’s founders. Mostly they were homely rules such as: “Don’t take nuthin’ whut ain’t yers” and “Keep yer goats outta muh corn field, dagnabbit!”

The “Big Books” that came out later weren’t so bad. There were two volumes, each about 250 pages, one criminal, one civil. Mostly, they just dressed up the Little Book in formal legal terminology and added some bits about trade with other towns and relations with Canterlot.

The current set of the Ponyville Municipal Code ran to twelve volumes of 1200 pages each.

This multiplication of rules and regulations was inevitable, Twilight realized, for two reasons. One, they never delete anything. Every law or regulation that had ever been passed, even laws that were later amended or removed, were still there in the Municipal Code. The older, obsolete laws were simply annotated (“*See Amendment 34a: replace references to ‘apple’ with ‘pomaceous fruit.’” “*See Amendment 1424/J: don’t worry about this anymore. Sorry.”).

Even in the Little Book, this was true. A rule as simple as “don’t take nuthin’ whut ain’t yers” had a tiny footnote, “*unless ya really have ta’, in which case, put it back when yer done, darn ya.”

Studying law is not like studying science, Twilight thought. It’s more like archeology, digging through layers of history to discover relics of order or justice.

On one level, this pleased Twilight Sparkle. The scholar in her admired the careful attention to detail and the preservation of history. On another level, she looked at the stack of volumes that still awaited her perusal and winced.

The second reason the law kept expanding, she realized, is that the law is trying to model the entire world! The sheer audaciousness of this chore made Twilight startle. Here, look at this bit, that had been introduced only a couple of years ago: trains. The grand opening of the Ponyville train station had been a major civic celebration. Twilight still had a t-shirt from the event. But look at the legal consequences! Redefinitions of ordinary terms like “carriage,” “vehicle” and “right of way” that reached back into the earliest laws of Ponyville!

Twilight sat back, sipped her cold cocoa, and pondered.

If we struck out the obsolete laws and corrected the amended laws, we could make the Code smaller by a factor of… hang on, 32%. Further, she thought excitedly, isn’t there a lot of duplication in the Code? Isn’t the section on “pomaceous fruit” really just a copy-and-pasted version of the earlier section on “root vegetables” with “dirt” replaced by “tree”?

And there is a recursive aspect to the Code, Twilight realized. The idea made her tingle. Twilight loved recursion; it simplified so many complex situations. The different cases related to agricultural law and water rights obviously mapped to manufacture and trade. And to domestic law as well! Wow!

Suddenly inspired, Twilight Sparkle drew out pen, ink and a stack of 3x5 cards and went to work.

As the first light of dawn washed over Ponyville, Twilight stood back, triumphant!

Princess Twilight Sparkle had worked her magic. The entirety of the Ponyville Municipal Code had been reduced to a single 3x5 card. There was a diagram, a decision table, a dense block of algorithmic code, and a table of constants. And there was still space left on the back for comments.

Twilight viewed the sunrise with confidence and pride. Ready, Madam Mayor! she thought happily, as she welcomed the start of Shadow Day.

***

FLETCHER

In the gray hour before dawn, Fletcher Veterinary, secretary to Madam Mayor Mare, padded quietly about his tiny townhouse and fussed over his plants.

Fletcher enjoyed the early morning. It was silent. It was still. He lit the stove, started a kettle of water for tea and heated the skillet for his toast. As the copper kettle and iron skillet warmed, he considered the ferns that decorated his kitchen window.

He reached into their pots and found their soil still moist. No water for you, then, he thought. It was difficult to tell, in the early light, but didn’t this fern show a little yellow around its leaves? Overwatering, he thought. It’s so hard sometimes, to know if you are caring too much or too little.

Here, a little fresh air can’t hurt you. Fletcher opened his kitchen window.

“GOOOOOD MORNING!” A bright-pink pony head thrust though Fletcher’s kitchen window. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT DAY THIS IS?!” the head cried.

Fletcher reared back, collapsing onto his haunches.

“IT’S SHADOW DAY!” shouted the bright-pink head in an ecstatic voice that made Fletcher cringe. “Ooooo—!” sang the head.

No, it’s early, please don’t, thought Fletcher. But the pink head was relentless:

“Oh, Shadow Day is the best day!

The best for you and me!

I will learn to do things right!

Governmentally!

“I will follow you all day long

And sing and sing my friendship song

So you will know that I belooo—ng

And never, ever do anything wrong!” the head sang.

Fletcher recovered his hooves, straightened his bathrobe and adjusted his dignity. “Miss Pie,” he said. “I appreciate your enthusiasm. However, I must ask you to consider the effect of your boisterous serenade on my sleeping neighbors.”

“Why, howdy there, Mr. Veterinary!” declared Fletcher’s left neighbor, Mr. Succotash, coming up to Fletcher’s window.

“Good morning to you, sir!” cried Mrs. Rhubarb, his right neighbor, as she joined him.

Oh, no, thought Fletcher. Please, no!

Miss Pie, Mr. Succotash and Mrs. Rhubarb embraced, danced and sang in chorus:

“We all love our community!

We work to the best of our ability!

And to show each other that we’re not slobs

On Shadow Day we exchange our jobs!

“I’ll learn your job, you’ll learn mine,

And everything will be just fine.

You may be big, you may be small,

But together we are ponies all!

“And once I know what you all do,

(Doo-wakka-do-do, do-do-do.)

I’ll be patient, I’ll be kind,

When standing in a checkout line!”

Please, dear, sweet Luna, take me now. It’s too early for show tunes, thought Fletcher in his despair as the trio built to their crescendo.

“Every pony, in every way,

Works hard to earn their pay!

At the end of the daaaay…

You could say

If you may

That there is no day

(What day?

What the hay?

Today?

Hooray!)

As great as Shadow Daaay!

Yay!”

Miss Pie, Mr. Succotash and Mrs. Rhubarb posed for a moment. Then Succotash and Rhubarb wandered away, leaving Fletcher to deal with Pie.

“I had not expected to encounter you so early, Miss Pie,” said Fletcher with deliberate calm.

Pinkie Pie laughed. “It’s late for me! I’m an assistant baker! I’ve already helped Mr. and Mrs. Cake get today’s bread started! I’m always up and rarin’ to go before sunrise!”

“I see,” said Fletcher. “Miss Pie, I am about to indulge in some tea and toast. Would you care to join me?”

“You betcha!” said Pinkie Pie cheerfully, as she struggled to climb through Fletcher’s kitchen window.

“Miss Pie, perhaps the door?” suggested Fletcher.

Pinkie Pie grinned. “Oh, yeah! Doors! I love doors!” She bounced out of sight.

Fletcher closed the kitchen window. Shadow Day, he thought, rubbing his eyes, as he walked slowly to his front door. Oh dear.

***

Thick-cut bread from yesterday's loaf. Milk. Eggs. Vanilla. United momentarily in a bowl. Placed on the iron pan to brown. A sprinkle of powdered sugar and fresh raspberries. More trouble than he would go to for himself alone, but he had a guest. There, then, thought Fletcher. A breakfast to be proud of. He placed her plate before her.

Pinkie Pie devoured it all in a single gulp, even before he set out the warmed maple syrup. “Yummy!” she announced.

Fletcher paused. I prepared this. It is a good breakfast. I will take time to enjoy it, he thought. He sat and addressed his own meal. He used his unicorn magic to will a fork before him, carefully cut off a square of his toast, welcomed the drop of warm maple syrup and gently encouraged a raspberry. He speared the toast (tines down, in the proper Canterlot fashion), raised the fork to his lips and relished the result.

Exquisite, he thought. The golden outer surface of the toast, sweetened by maple, surrendered with a delightful crunch. Once inside, his tongue discovered the creamy goodness of the eggs, milk and vanilla. The tart sweetness of the raspberry was a delicious surprise.

Why don’t I do this for myself more often? he wondered, as his fork moved to carve off another square. Oh, yes, that’s right. My guest. Miss Pie.

Her bright, blue-eyed gaze was entirely focused on Fletcher. She watched the motion of his fork, unblinking, as it moved from his plate to his lips.

“Would you care for some more?” Fletcher asked.

“No, I’m okay,” Miss Pie said, as she carefully followed the motion of his fork. Fletcher waved the fork up-and-down, left-and-right. Miss Pie followed each movement. At last, Fletcher ate the square of toast, and was rewarded with Miss Pie’s smile.

The stress of her regard is most intimidating, thought Fletcher. “There’s more,” Fletcher insisted, motioning towards his stove.

Miss Pie laughed. “I know. I just like watching you eat. You enjoy every bite. You smile in little ways, when you look down at your plate. You like your food. You pause and think about every morsel on your fork. Then you bite and your happiness shines!

“I wish more ponies were like you, Mister Veterinary,” said Miss Pie. “Most of the ponies that stop by Sugar Cube Corner in the morning are in a hurry, for a quick muffin-and-cocoa or a bag of gimme-that-to-go.

“It’s nice to be with somepony that’s quiet and deliberate in the morning. If it’s okay, you kinda remind me of my Dad.”

Fletcher Veterinary felt something warm form in his chest. He harrumphed, then looked down at his plate. He busied himself with bits of toast, insistent raspberries and errant drops of maple.

“Miss Pie,” he asked, not looking at her. “Why are you here? Why did you volunteer? What do you hope to accomplish, today?”

“I just want everypony to be happy this one day, like me!” said Miss Pie.

Fletcher touched the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

I have, perhaps, been too hasty in my judgement of this pony, he thought. She is quick. She is smart. And she is social, like Madam Mayor. This is a good pony. I will support her, for today at least.

“Miss Pie, welcome to Shadow Day,” said Fletcher, as he struggled to smile.