This story has ghosts in it, and to understand it properly we will need to understand Ponyville itself. Ghosts are frightening things, and singularly unhappy creatures, for the world is as insubstantial to them as they are to it. And if we are frightened by them, then logically they must be frightened by us, and so they tend to stick to familiar places they knew when they were alive. Hence the much overstated “haunting” phenomenon that gets so much play in the press. Honestly, ponies these days….

What ghosts has Ponyville buried and left behind? To answer this question we must go back, we must return to a time when something rose out of the dust unbidden, thrusting out of the ground like the hoof of an undead creature…and everything that sprouts out of the ground must have its beginning in a seed.

So at the center of Ponyville, born from a seed from the only forest that remained, is a golden oak tree. It has been found that the ground floor has excellent acoustics, suitable for musical rehearsals and performances.

As the golden oak tree’s roots spread, wherever they bored through the ground and reached sunlight the roots sprouted buds of capital that bloomed into a town hall, a schoolhouse, a bakery, a hospital, a spa, a bowling alley, the ever important soap stand.

Attracted by the scent of flowers, ponies filled the space along the paths between the buildings like birds on tree branches. They smoothed the dirt out under their hoofs, forming roads through the patterns of convenience. Their morning singsong was the palaver of a small town . To make their nests they brought with them carts, hammers, saws, nails, apple seeds, and a book of old stories, which was placed within the golden oak tree and has subsequently been lost in the usual literary drift of libraries everywhere. Beyond the reach of the golden oak tree the roads spread, the town’s roots taking on an easy life of their own. They touched Canterlot, and Manehattan, and even the Crystal Empire, though it weren’t such a pompous thing back then.

All the places kissed. Ewwww!

But let us not give in to the giggling bigotry of fillies. They kissed. Smooooooch. And what would that make the free travel of ponies on the road from Canterlot to Ponyville…?

Return to dust, the dust of Ponyville, being kicked up everywhere by the dash of hoofs. For it is Sunday, creation's beginning….

In a corner of the ground floor of the golden oak tree, now covered up with long shelves of books, something is carved into the wood:

ASA 4EVER

This carving is enclosed within a heart, also carved. It is almost like the letters are hugging.

This is Ponyville, a town within the world of Equestria, a world of magical creatures and friendly ponies. It is not so different from ours, except for the ghosts. “Path dependence” is the phrase you are looking for.

And one more question, one more problem to be solved, one more haunting to be exorcised:

This is the world where Ponyville lies. A world of ponies, who are friends. And two…others.

One’s name is Flim, and the other’s name is Flam. Flim sports a red mustache. Otherwise they are identical. Twins, in fact.

They are traveling not by magic, not by flight, not by carriage nor by might. They travel by steam.

Clankety-clank, goes the machine as it carries them down the dusty road.

Bumbly-bum, answers the earth.

Clankety-clank, says the machine, and it is off, fifty feet away already.

Humbly-hum, says the earth in farewell, spinning in space at a thousand miles an hour.

Brothers Flim and Flam are talking as well.

“The under-crust of Ponyville’s geography is completely unexploited,” Flim says.

“And they have a Daughter.”

“It is run by….”

“The CEE is Twilight Sparkle.”

“Like a tiny star.”

“Or the space for them to exist. The shine and song that gives them value.”

“Names are…only names.”

“Still, no chance to soften the budget curve.”

“We’ll make do. We always do. How are the pamphlets coming along?”

Flam pulls one hot off the miniature press.

What Has Princess Celestia Done to Your Money?

There is a picture of Princess Celestia looking as if she had just stepped in taffy. It is mostly a matter of timing and angles, plus some strategically placed taffy.

10 Secrets the Bank Doesn’t Want You To Know!

There are, in fact, eleven secrets listed. The Flim Flam brothers always like to do their readers one more.

Capitalizing Normally Uncapitalized Nouns: Signifier of Significance, or Portent of Doom?

Flim nods. The steam machine clanks on down the road.

And so it came to pass that it was Monday-week in Ponyville. Twilight Sparkle found this very confusing.

“It’s Monday-week every week,” she explained helplessly to Pinkie Pie. “How is this cause for celebration?”

“Because this week we celebrate the fact that it’s Monday-week,” Pinkie Pie said.

“What about Tuesday-week?”

Pinkie Pie laughed. “Tuesday-week? Twilight, you’re so funny.”

“And I’m not to be in charge of organizing this celebration?”

“No offense, but no pony wants the world to end.”

“Oh, come on! It was just one time!”

“Sorry. Ponies are very particular about the collapse of the economy. You know how it is.”

Twilight did, in fact, know how it was. She would be able to find something to organize for the celebration, a booth or something. A Week of Economics with Your Ruler Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight Sparkle considered herself the de facto ruler of Ponyville because, well, she was. At least, she controlled the money supply, sort of, and interest rates seemed to be…about right, which was definitely her doing, and what did anything else matter?

Pinkie Pie considered herself the de facto ruler of Ponyville because, well, she was. She was the most popular pony in Ponyville, CEO and owner of Ponyville’s largest franchise corporation and sometimes cult, the Sugarcube Corner, and she had a pet not-so-murderous giant forest just outside the town. Not to mention the Sugarcube Corner was coming out with a new line of tee shirts today.

“‘I regret that I have but one waistline to give for a Sugarcube cupcake,’” Twilight read. “Huh. I didn’t even know most ponies wore clothes.”

“We have ones for Monday-week too,” Pinkie Pie said. “See?”

The tee shirt had a row of seven different and brightly colored cupcakes across the chest. Each had the name of a different day written underneath in bubbly pink letters.

“Gosh,” Twilight said.

Pinkie Pie was Twilight Sparkle’s friend. They had fought an Alicorn together, befriended the Everfree Forest and saved the world, and Pinkie Pie had patiently read Twilight’s commissioned comic books and come up with several nice things to say about them, which took some real effort.

Twilight Sparkle was Pinkie Pie’s friend. She was funny and said weird things and had a cool house. Plus she really liked cake, and there was just something about her that made Pinkie Pie happy. There was something about most ponies that made Pinkie Pie happy.

Neither knew of the other’s self-understanding vis-a-vis the question of the de facto ruler of Ponyville.

Oligopolies are generally able to maintain a sort of implicit, tacit collusion. They both understand that outright competition will be mutually disastrous, and they both understand that they both understand, and so on. But when a new firm enters the market, the dominos begin to fall….

Brothers Flim and Flam arrived in Ponyville. They went to the graveyard to see the ghosts.

Sunday passed, as it tends to do, with no miracles but the lack of rain. And so all the ponies of Ponyville were assembled in the town square where the NGDP Targeting Festival had been held for the start of Monday-week. Twilight Sparkle kept her eyes nervously on the sky in case anything eldritch tried to end the world again.

It was even more festive than the NGDP Targeting Festival. Ponies the world over celebrated the anniversary of Princess Celestia’s Great Equilibrium, but Monday-week was something special to Ponyville. And it was special.

The scent of honey and burnt caramel spread beyond the square and drew ponies near until they were clumped tight like the fried oats set out on the tray to cool. The square was beautifully decorated with the seven colors of the rainbow, each corresponding to a day of the week. There were games to play, and everything was so thick with balloons it was a wonder the whole square didn’t float away. A Cerberus was there, allowing fillies to use her long legs as slides, and a tortoise was selling tickets for a raffle. Flying overhead, an enormous snake, its underbelly painted the dazzling bright colors of Monday-week, earned oohs and ahhs whenever it passed by.

“Hey, Twilight!” Pinkie Pie said, waving her over. “These tee shirts are selling like hot cakes! Get one before we run out!”

“Um…I don’t normally wear clothes,” Twilight said, trying not to feel ill at the sight of ponies struggling into Pinkie Pie’s tee shirts. “Not wearing clothes is what separates us from the beasts.”

“Don’t let Fluttershy hear you say that.”

Twilight gulped. No, she did not want Fluttershy to hear her saying that.

“Did you set up your stall yet?” Pinkie Pie said. “A week of economics with our friend Twilight Sparkle?”

“I decided not to,” Twilight admitted. “It defeats the whole point of the division of labor to spend resources as valuable as my time and energy on educating them on what I do. And besides, I arrrgh!“

The high, painful whine of a microphone’s self-destruction sawed through her head. Wincing, Twilight looked over at the big stage assembled in the middle of the square. Two stallions, both red-haired, both mustachioed, with matching hats and black bow ties stood on stage. They had microphones. One ahemmed into his, tapped once or twice, and spoke. No, not spoke...he rhymed.

“Welcome, ponies, one and all, older ponies and the small! We are pleased to announce our show delivered with impeccable flow to educate from the sun to the moon about that most dreadful bust and boom!”

“That’s a terrible lyric,” Twilight complained as curious ponies began to gather around. “Zecora was much better.”

“Look, Twilight!” Pinkie Pie pointed.  “They’re going to teach economics. You know, the thing that you do!”

Twilight stared as the two ponies introduced themselves.

“My name is Sugar Canes,” said one of the stallions, suddenly refined, yet playful. “And I’m all about living in the moment!” He proved this by taking a dozen bags of candy in the green glow of his Unicorn magic and upending them over the crowd. Fillies shouted in delight and occasionally pain as one of the hard candies landed on their heads. Even oopsy-bumps wouldn’t stop them from scrabbling for the candy.

“Candy!” Pinkie Pie screeched, abandoning her shirts and few remaining hot cakes and charging forward. A rainbow streak and a ripping sound in the air told Twilight Rainbow Dash wasn’t far behind.

“My name is Hay Ech,” said the other Unicorn, now dour. He chewed on a piece of hay, grimacing, as if to prove his mother’s wisdom. He shook his head at the fillies executing complex search and bargaining strategies for the remaining candies. “You’re all going to get stomachaches.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Applejack said, walking up beside Twilight with Rarity. “And who’s going to be up all night with Apple Bloom while she’s sick?”

“And candy is so uncouth,” Rarity said. “Now if they had something posh like marshmallow it would be an entirely different question. I’ve told Sweetie Belle she isn’t to act like a commoner!”

Twilight’s horn itched. She could feel a metaphor coming on.

“And now that we’ve introduced ourselves,” Sugar Canes said, “we’re here to teach everypony economics. Ever wondered what the Bank in Canterlot is up to? Ever wanted to learn about the most powerful magic in Equestria? Well, listen up, ponies, because Hay Ech and I will explain everything you need to know.”

Twilight raised a hoof uncertainly. “Actually, I was going to….”

Sugar Canes grabbed the microphone. Ponies reared back as a pulsing beat with a heavy bass and aggressive drums blasted out of the pair of giant speakers on the stage. Twilight felt the shock of the noise stab within her right side where her ribcage was.

“Who’s ready to get down?” Sugar Canes cheered. “Let’s get this party started!” Distantly Pinkie Pie could be heard choking on her own excitement as the pulsing sound washed over the square.

Hay Ech sighed. “Don’t blame me if your ears hurt later.” Still, he took a microphone.

“Tell me about it,” Applejack said, covering her own ears.

And then…Sugar Canes started to rap.

In Canterlot popular music was performed with instruments like violas and clarinets, and the average piece lasted eleven minutes and forty-two seconds(1). In Ponyville, a simple, quiet town, music had not evolved beyond basic string instruments. A dance that involved moving all four hoofs in a single measure was considered rude and inappropriate in front of fillies. Never in all their years had the ponies of Ponyville dreamed of a kind of music where somepony shouted into a microphone about their disagreements with the local law enforcement’s ostensible speciesism over a background of noise like two drums at war with each other and the only weapon available was a bass.

“…Sugar Canes, and I’m here to say, I’m about to get funky in a major way!”

There was a pause as the stunned ponies of Ponyville decided how to react. Then—

“What’s funky mean?” somepony asked.

“It’s when you feel blue,” another pony answered knowledgeably. “You know, ‘in a funk?’”

“Oh. Why’s he sad?”

“Shh. Let’s listen, and maybe he’ll tell us. I’m sure we can help him.”

Now Sugar Canes was doing some kind of complicated dance on stage that looked as if his back legs were trying to separate themselves from his flank. Then Twilight’s world went to hell.

“…Don’t be leery of my theories, we’ll start real slow explaining all about the circular flow!“

Twilight’s mouth fell open.

No, not hell, but the ghosts rising into out of it....

“...Spending money, that’s the key, to restarting the recovery.” Sugar Canes spun around and gyrated his tail. Ponies screamed.  “Everypony put your hoofs up for CIG! Boosting consumption is the policy!”

“Well, this is just silly,” Twilight said. “It’s not even music.”

“Oh, this is enthralling,” Rarity said. “The rhythm! The rhyme! I have found my true calling!”

“It does have a nice beat,” Applejack admitted, tapping her hoof. “Maybe we should take a seat.”

Now Hay Ech took center stage. “That sounded real good, but don’t be fooled. In the real world policy must be ruled by higher considerations and fewer aggregations…“

Something had changed. The stillness, that was it. All the fillies were staring rapt at the stage, their candies forgotten.

“…So don’t go messing with interest rates if you want the boom and bust to abate…“

“Argh,” Twilight said. Around her the ponies still in control of their limbic systems were nodding their heads enthusiastically. Twilight wondered briefly if the rap music was some kind of dark witchcraft placing all the ponies under mind control.

Sugar Canes did a split, which looks much more interesting with four legs than with two. “Forget all that talk about relative prices. We’ve heard it before from your mentor, Mises—“

“That’s not how you pronounce her name!” Twilight said, cupping a hoof around her mouth. Ponies shushed her.

“If you spend more GDP will soar, it’s so simple, bubbles are a pimple, pop one and it’ll leave a scar—“

“That’s…what?” Twilight grabbed one of the dancing ponies nearby. “Are you even listening to this?” He was, in fact, and shrugged her off.

Hay Ech shook his hips, sending the sugar-pumped crowd wild. “Misallocations have got to go. They’re unsustainable, but nopony knows…”

Sugar Canes had to strain his voice to be heard over the rioting Ponyvillites. “The animal spirits govern profit and loss. Fear is why the economy needs a boss…“

“Now Mr. Canes, I think you are forgetting, that markets are known to be self-correcting.”

“Self-correcting? You gotta be kidding! Or do you not remember the nightmare I’m seeing?”

“Nightmare? Ha! It was all the Bank’s fault. Too much intervention brings growth to a halt.”

“It’s only by a guarantee of profit that investment can be propped up in markets!“

In the midst of the chaos and excitement was something calm and steady. At the center of the song was a voice, a voice as cold and clear as a waterfall, and it poured on Twilight Sparkle.

The Nightmare was the fault of Princess Celestia, the Nightmare could not be averted by Princess Celestia, you have Nightmares of Princess Celestia….

And on and on. It was, Twilight realized, all the noise and bluster of Sugar Canes and Hay Ech amounted to, though one blamed Princess Celestia and the other discounted her entirely. Their horns—what magic—

It was like a dream.

Gravel, dirt, dust. Streets, ladders, shops. Houses, gardens, and a tree hollowed out and made into a library. Today, the sulfuric scent of burning metal, the healthy smell of a growing town. It is the festival of Monday-week in Ponyville, the first of its kind, and the Princess has come today to smile on the proceedings, for her presence is a blessing, her absence a curse.

There is only one thing left to do, and that is to decide who will be the ruler of Ponyville. A soap stand is set up in the middle of the dusty square….

Today, Adagio will sing for the Princess. She has chosen a song about food.(2) Adagio has been practicing. This is the most important moment of her life.

Adagio opens her mouth…

…And forgets the words.

The Princess is kind about it. The Princess is kind about everything.

“STOP IIIIIIIIT!”

Twilight’s scream was made much more noticeable by the speakers and microphones cutting out. Twilight released her magical hold on them, and they remained silent, as if chastised by their mother. Twilight teleported onstage in between the two stallions and somehow managed to glare at them both, hoping the sweat on her face would be taken for exertion or fury.

“You will not speak about Princess Celestia that way!”

The stallions finally stopped their braying. They looked at each other. “We didn’t mention Princess Celestia.”

Twilight looked at the crowd. The crowd looked back at her.

“That—that’s not what I meant,” Twilight said. “What I mean is, this is not how macroeconomics is done.”

Sugar Canes smoothed out his mustache. “Ah, you must be Twilight Spencer. Does your hair always look like that, or did it get caught in a liquidity trap?”

Twilight could hear ponies laughing even though she knew—she knew—that none of them even knew what a liquidity trap was.

“Actually, dear Canes, there appears to be shampoo behind her ears,” Hay Ech said. “It seems to have been misallocated, however—a consequence of the false signals of her friends, no doubt.”

“Yeah, I got over my bad hair like so long ago,” Twilight said. “Who are you two, anyway?”

“Sugar Canes, genius extroardinare!”

“Hay Ech, boring nerd guy.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “Are you doing some kind of written joke that I can’t hear?”

“Kant here?” Sugar Canes looked around. “Where?”

“You have to have permits to teach economics in Ponyville. Do you? No? Get out.”

Hay Ech looked wise—much wiser, in fact, that actually wise ponies ever looked.(3) “When the state’s power is only constrained by reason, it finds little reason to be constrained.”

“Laissez-faire will meet its end,” counseled Sugar Canes, “when those in charge of guarding her path are distracted from their true duties by the temptation of power.

“I—what—I’m not corrupted by power!”

“We never said you were.”

“Yes, we never said that you feel threatened by our efforts to educate the good, decent citizens of Ponyville about your practices at the Daughter. Why would anypony suggest that you want only yourself to understand macroeconomics?”

“Yes, how could the single pony in charge of Ponyville’s macroeconomy possibly benefit by keeping macroeconomic knowledge firmly in her own hoofs?”

“Because—I didn’t—“

“…Yeah,” said somepony in the crowd. “How come you never offered to teach us macroeconomics before?”

Twilight rounded on him. “You don’t need to understand. It’s the division of labor.”

“Seems awfully convenient that the labor divides in such a way as to leave you in charge and us all ignorant,” another pony said.

“I can literally prove with math that it benefits you.”

“So you do think we’re ignorant.”

“I—I never said that—”

“Mr. Ech and I will be pleased to offer our high acclaimed introductory macroeconomics course to anypony who wishes to learn more about how the Bank really works…for free!” Ponies cheered at that.

“You don’t need to learn economics!” Twilight snapped at some cost to her soul.

“That’s just what you want us to think,” somepony said.

“I reckon she doesn’t want us to think at all.”

“Turn the music back on! I haven’t shaken my tail like that since the hoedown of ’67!”

“Now just a minute, y’all,” Applejack said, joining Twilight on stage. “Y’all are biting quicker than a rattlesnake in July. Twilight’s real nice, and she’s saved the world a couple of times.”

“Yeah!” Twilight said. “I saved the world. Twice.”

“Yes,” Canes said, “there was the time the Bank was used to nearly destroy Equestria’s economy, and…what was the second one, actually?”

“We kept a pony-eating forest from making babies with the sky.”

“Ah.”

“Seems to me like the banks only cause trouble,” somepony said.

“Yeah. I mean, if I was in charge of the bank, I would just print lots of money for everypony. Then we’d all be rich.”

“That’s a horrible idea,” Twilight said.

“Why? Because of your precious ‘macroeconomics?’”

“Yes!”

“I find the intellectual type is often more interested in their ‘theories’ than basic logic,” Sugar Canes said. “Economics is just common sense.”

“You were just offering to teach everypony macroeconomics!”

“Yes, for free!” Everypony cheered again.

Twilight was trying to maintain her composure. She was also trying to contain control over her magic, a glittering lavender swarm creeping around the stage. “Listen to me, everypony! The Nine Daughters and the One Bank maintain peace and order in Equestria.”

“Prove it!”

“I have some books you can borrow.”

“Prove it with rhyme!”

“That’s beneath me.”

“What’s the matter?” Sugar Canes said. “Afraid to face us in a rap battle? Afraid to throw down with the big boys?” He moved his hoofs up and down erratically.

“Hey,” Twilight said brightly, “you know who really likes terribly loud music? The Everfree Forest! You two should pay her a visit.”

“Her?” Sugar Canes looked to Hay Ech, who shrugged.

But the idea had gained traction among the crowd. Ponies wanted to see a battle of economics such as not had been witnessed in a thousand years. They began to call for a duel.

“You have to slap him! Slap him across the face with a white glove!”

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “I’m considering it.”

“Everypony, please!” a shocked voice said. Rarity trotted up to the stage, looking aghast at all the ponies. “Have you all gone mad? You ask that Twilight Sparkle slap one of these stallions as if it would not cause pain! How terribly unfriendly! Need I remind you all of the crisis three years ago when one pony—we name no names—pushed another into the mud?”

Ponies averted their eyes; the fillies gasped in shock. Such unfriendliness!

“Um,” Fluttershy said, surprising everypony. She had sidled up onstage unnoticed. “Oh!” she squeaked when everypony looked at her. “I mean, um, this music is very aggressive and loud. I’m not sure it’s really the best medium for reasoned discussion. But I really thought it was wonderful,” she added quickly, giving Sugar Canes and Hay Ech apologetic looks.

“Still, they have a point,” somepony mumbled. “We don’t know nothin’ bout what that Twilight Sparkle gets up to in that bank of hers.”

“The Daughter belongs to everypony,” Rainbow Dash said, swooping up beside them. “If it didn’t, I would buy it. Twilight is just our representative.”

Twilight’s head jerked as if she had been slapped. “No, I’m not. I know economics, and no pony else does. What is there to represent? Your heads are emptier than the null set! I’m no representative; I’m your ruler!”

The instant it came out of her mouth Twilight knew she shouldn’t have said that.

“I only meant that I have absolute control over this town and your lives,” she said, but the damage was done. Sugar Canes didn’t actually grin, as such, but the corners of his mouth trembled mockingly. Twilight rounded on him.

“You. I know you. Let’s see who you are really.”

Twilight’s magic glowed over his thick red mustache—and pulled.

“Yowch!” he said, grabbing at face. “What are you doing?”

Twilight stepped back. “I—I thought—“

Hay Ech sighed. “My mustache is the fake one.” Slowly, he peeled it off.

Everypony gasped. Twilight smiled.

“I knew it. The Flim Flam brothers!”

The reaction was not what she expected.

“…Who?” somepony said.

“They make shampoo, I think,” another said. “I see their label all the time.”

“I buy their fuel,” said another. “It’s cheaper.”

“Think I read another about something their whatchamacallits do to the river,” said another pony. “Something about…contestation?”

“Contamination!” Twilight snapped. “The Flim Flam brothers are very bad and mean.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” said Sugar Canes—no, Flim or Flam, as he reached into a bag. “We have pamphlets! Pamphlets for everypony!”

Paper burst over the ponies like the fireworks of Twilight’s despair. Ponies caught them in their mouths or their magic.

Twilight's breath caught. This proved to be a bad idea as everypony took a moment to read, a much longer moment than Twilight had anticipated based on her own abilities.

“That’s an odd picture of Princess Celestia,” somepony finally commented.

Twilight’s head jerked. She called one of the pamphlets to her, her eyes scanning the pages.

“The Bank is stealing my savings?” a pony gasped. “But I save those!”

“This assertion is phrased as a question,” another pony said. “It must be true.”

Twilight horn-blasted the pamphlet into ash. “The Flim Flam brothers stand revealed as traitors to the crown. Now we see their true colors.”

“Yeah, and how about purple?” somepony in the crowd said. “The color of royalty. What’d you do with my savings, anyway?”

“Nothing! It’s not even that kind of bank!”

“I better check under Granny Smith’s mattress just in case,” Applejack said, before a look from Twilight silenced her.

Twilight faced the crowd, beseeching. “But doesn’t everypony love Princess Celestia?”

“I did two minutes ago,” somepony said. “Then I read this pamphlet.”

“Now turn the music back on!” somepony cheered.

Flim and Flam obliged. Ponies threw their hoofs into the air as the heavy bass thudded through the square. The pair of stallions took center stage, separating Twilight from the crowd, and before they could begin to shout their terrible lyrics into the microphone again Twilight concentrated her magic and teleported away.

There were two sounds within the barred Daughter: the sound of Twilight’s hoofs clicking on the floor, and the sound of her voice speaking quickly as if to persuade herself, repeating like the echo of the escalator sprite(4):

“Shouldn’t have said that shouldn’t have said that THEY DON’T KNOW ECONOMICS shouldn’t have said that BUT IT’S TRUE—"

There was a knock at the door. Twilight sighed. She knew this was coming.

Twilight opened the door. “Hello, friends.”

“Hi,” they said.

“Want to come in?”

“Cool castle, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash couldn’t help but say as they stepped into the bank.

“I’ll never have a castle,” Twilight said, oblivious to sarcasm. “Only princesses can have castles.”

“Did you want to be a princess?” Rarity asked. “I thought of you as more of an academic pony.”

“Every filly wants to be a princess when she grows up,” Twilight said. Behind her the other ponies exchanged looks. None of them had ever wanted to be princesses. Ruling Ponyville was enough for anypony.

“I thought there were only two princesses,” Pinkie Pie said. “Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance. Don’t you have to be an Alicorn to become a princess?”

Twilight nodded morosely. “And I’ll never become an Alicorn.”

Again her friends exchanged looks. You could become an Alicorn? What, would wings just miraculously sprout on your back?

Twilight sat heavily at the round table and gestured to her friends to do the same. “Have any of you ever felt like you’ve horribly messed up the entire direction of your life?”

Her friends exchanged looks.

“Nope,” Applejack said. “Still apples.”

“I was Princess Celestia’s right hoof,” Twilight said. “And now I’m stuck in Ponyville managing an economy that manages itself.”

“You run one of the Nine Daughters all by yourself,” Rarity said. “Princess Celestia must be incredibly proud.”

Twilight’s hoof slammed on the table. “I don’t want her to be proud! I want to see her again!”

“So pay her a visit,” Rainbow Dash said.

“She hasn’t called for me!”

“So?”

“She’s a princess, Rainbow. Honestly, you ponies….” She trailed off. She was just frustrated. No need to say something she couldn’t take back again, or else she’d really have to start questioning those adaptive learning models.

“Um,” Fluttershy said. Five heads turned her way. “It sounds like you’re experiencing doubt and uncertainty because your normal form of positive reinforcement, namely the princess’s approval and closeness, are gone. You’re striking out for purpose and meaning in life like a pony at sea, looking for anything to grab onto, and so you’ve decided you’re the ruler of Ponyville to convince yourself of the importance of your work here.”

“Which is just plain silly,” Applejack chuckled. “Everypony knows the Apple family runs Ponyville.”

“Uh, hello? I have enough net worth to buy Sweet Apple Acres three times over,” Rainbow Dash said.

“I know gossip about everypony, and I mean everypony,” Rarity said. “No pony can cross me.”

“I have lots of fierce, wild animals that obey only me,” said Fluttershy.

“Okay, okay, we all have means of destroying Ponyville should we choose to,” Twilight said. “Who cares? I just embarrassed myself in front of everypony. Princess Celestia is probably going to have to replace me with somepony the ponies here can actually trust.”

“You could try to reach out to them, Twilight,” Pinkie Pie said. “It doesn’t have to be that awesome rap thing, but what about those comics?”

“They suck and you know it,” Twilight said. “Economics can’t be made fun. Not real economics,” she added before anypony could bring up the duet between “Sugar Canes” and “Hay Ech.”

“If you did get replaced,” Rainbow Dash said, ignoring the heated glares four ponies suddenly trained on her, “wouldn’t you get to go back to Canterlot? You could see Princess Celestia again.”

“I’d return in disgrace,” Twilight said, her eyes on the table. “The first Sister to fail.”

Her friends looked at each other. Twilight had sisters?

“Group huddle,” Pinkie Pie declared, reaching across the table and pulling the other ponies in.

Twilight started. “What? Should I—“

“No! You sit right there and look pretty while us girls figure things out.”

“Twilight has sisters,” Pinkie Pie said to the others in the circle.

“She never mentioned them before,” Fluttershy said.

“I reckon there’s a lot of things she ain’t telling us,” Applejack said.

“The only thing she likes to talk about is economics.” Rarity shuddered. “And now those rapists have taken even that from her.”

There was a thoughtful pause.

“I think it’s ‘rappers,’” Rainbow Dash said. “Although I agree with the sentiment.”

The circle swung back to Pinkie Pie. “We need to get Twilight to open up and be friends with everypony. Now this is just an idea, but I think it’s a good one.”

The other ponies nodded. Pinkie Pie’s friendship expertise was unquestionable.

“I thought that rap thing was pretty neat. The ponies liked it a lot, even though it was about boring old economics.”

“I can’t picture that,” Applejack said. “Honestly she’s just got too much pride.”

“I think the kind thing to do would be to find a way to make her comfortable with it,” Fluttershy said. “It’s basically just like socializing a new naturally evolved organism.”

“So…we should rap?” Rarity said. “I am rather taken with the idea myself. The stage suits me. But I don’t know anything about economics.”

“We could read Twilight’s books,” Pinkie Pie said. “She’d be delighted.”

“No,” Rainbow Dash said.

“Then that’s it,” Rarity said. “Twilight keeps all her knowledge locked up in here. Generosity demands that we share it with everypony.”

“Did you hear me? I said no.”

“I like it,” Applejack said. “Twilight doesn’t tell us enough about herself. We have to find a way to make her more honest.”

“Then it’s agreed,” Pinkie Pie said. She wasn’t laughing as she looked at Rainbow Dash. “Are you in?”

Rainbow Dash sighed. “I must be the loyalest pony in the world.”

“Great! Okay, everypony—break!”

The huddle dissolved. Pinkie Pie beamed at Twilight like the pink headlights of an oncoming semi.

“Hey, Twilight, where’s the macroeconomics section of your library?”

“Really? Um, the, uh…actually, I usually ask Spike for this.”

Scootaloo’s wings buzzed in a brave but futile attempt to moderate the turgid stream of sugar struggling sluggishly through her arteries.

“That was amazing!” Scootaloo said.

“I think I’m in l-l-love with economics!” Sweetie Belle agreed. Her shivering form was a blur in Scootaloo’s dimming eyesight.

“Who needs apples?” Apple Bloom said, the treason tasting sweet on her tongue, unless that was the sticky residue of toffee and caramel. “Let’s form a consortium!”

“We’ll study economics and fight for the truth,” Scootaloo declared. She put her hoof in the center of their circle, and her two friends did the same. “For we are…”

Just before they passed out, they spoke as one.

“The Austrian Crusaders!”

1) Twilight tried to keep herself entertained at concerts.

2) This was a long time ago, you see.

3) Twilight had met one. Two, in fact.

4) One of Rarity's phrases. It made Twilight nervous. Next Chapter: Monday, Continued: Let's Have a Battle Estimated time remaining: 49 Minutes