The rest of the week passed in fits and starts ‒ hours of mind-numbing boredom interrupted by wild spurts of activity. The boredom was to be expected, given apparently schizophrenic nature of Equestria’s technology compared to human norms. On the one hand, their medical science was on par with the best humanity has to offer. On the other hand, there was no internet to save me from sheer boredom. My main non-electronic means of escapism ‒ books ‒ could offer no solace, either, since I still couldn’t read Standard Equestrian.

That meant that socializing with the locals was my sole means of enduring the idle time between my first meeting with Twilight and her friends and my impending move to Ponyville. The castle staff weren’t much help in this regard, unfortunately ‒ the guards were too busy with their duties to be good conversationalists, and the servants were too unsure of me to do more than exchange awkward glances.

The more well-heeled ponies were even worse. The ones who weren’t cowed by my relative size and unusual physique would gaze at me with open condescension upon seeing how plainly I was dressed compared to them.

One stallion stood out for other reasons. I had the dubious fortune of meeting him one morning as I was heading to the medical wing for another round of tests and inoculations against local diseases. His salmon coat and silver mane were both as meticulously groomed as any politician back on Earth. He also seemed to exude a natural sort of charisma that said politicians would start wars to possess. I supposed that some mares might find him attractive.

Thankfully, I’m not a mare.

The strangest thing about the unicorn was his cutie mark. It was if someone had taken clipart of a scroll and changed it to look like the scroll had been made of green silk instead of parchment.

Our meeting was sheer chance ‒ he had just rounded the corner, and the both of us barely pulled up in time. I had been focused on a few inches of carpet directly in front of me, and he’d had his snout buried in a carefully organized stack of note cards held in a seafoam green aura that matched his eyes. His surprise at both nearly bumping into someone and at seeing a human for the first time was only momentary, and he maneuvered around me as if nothing had happened. Before he disappeared down the corridor, however, he turned his head and favored me with the same superior simper as others of his apparent financial and political status.

I was so caught up in rolling my eyes at yet another upper class twit thinking that their money makes them morally superior to everyone else that I almost missed the slightest hint of something… off about his smile. While I’m not normally one to run on first impressions and gut instinct, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d be meeting this stallion again.

At any rate, trying to hobnob with Equestria’s hoi oligoi promised to be a waste of time. I decided that I would have to find other ways to occupy my mind and my time.

In the end, I was forced to rely on my healers ‒ Dr. Silverclaw and Nurse Faran ‒ for mental stimulation. Silverclaw was all too ready to provide it. At the end of each day, he’d lead me to one of the local bars ‒ the kind that apparently didn’t ask too many questions about its patrons ‒ to engage in that most universal of pastimes: drinking and shooting the shit. As expected, he turned out to be an entertaining drinking buddy, despite occasionally overdoing it and having to be carried back to the castle. Well, that and trying to sneak off and stick me with the bill a couple of times. Other than those two gripes, however, I couldn’t complain about his means of entertaining me.

Strangely enough, he always managed to be completely sober when I saw him the next day, no matter how much he’d had the night before.

Even more amazingly, Princess Celestia had allowed our nightly excursions, though she insisted that we use the utmost caution in moving about to avoid attracting unwanted attention. Silverclaw knew of an abandoned tunnel used in constructing the castle and securing it to the side of the mountain. Said tunnel just happened to exit into one of the red light districts in Lower Canterlot, which suited our purposes just fine.

After all, I’d been given a second chance at life. I doubted I’d get a third. It couldn’t hurt to live it up a little, especially with the encouragement of Silverclaw.

Nurse Faran, on the other hand, was more of an enigma. Most of the time, she and I spent our visits sniping at one another. Because she initiated most of the arguments, I was pretty sure she was looking for things to argue about, even if she had to invent a reason. One time, we’d even argued over who had the most stressful life.

She won that one, somehow.

On rare occasions, though, the mask would slip, and for a few brief moments, she’d almost manage to be nice to me.

“You seem to be holding up just fine under all of this poking and prodding,” Faran said with clinical detachment as she carefully measured the dosage in a needle. It was the Friday before I was scheduled to move to Ponyville, and I was enduring the last battery of immunizations I needed to be fully protected from the most serious illnesses that ponykind had encountered and developed vaccines for.

“I had a few birth defects that required surgery to fix, so I’ve seen the inside of a hospital more times than the average child. I’m used to getting jabbed with sharp objects,” I replied blandly.

“Hmph. Pity.”

“Is that disappointment I detect in your voice? Hardly professional behavior from a health care provider,” I quipped, watching with detached interest as she used a ball of cotton held carefully in a latex-shod hoof to swab my left arm with alcohol. It still boggled my mind the way ponies could use various items with only their hooves ‒ or in some cases, their mouths, which struck me as highly unsanitary.

My remark prompted an unamused glare from the acerbic nurse. A sharp sting emanated from the area she’d cleaned as the needle was injected a bit harder than necessary.

“I suppose you think I deserved that,” I grumped, wincing almost imperceptibly.

“Sorry. This is a delicate procedure, and you broke my concentration,” she said. I gave a derisive snort in response. I barely heard her mumbled retort: “Ar a laghad Fuair mé imoibriú as duit.”

“What was that last bit?” I asked.

“Nothing. Just making mental notes for later,” she replied with a bad poker face.

“Right,” I said, drawing out the “I” sound to make my skepticism clear.

Nurse Faran ignored the bait, preferring to concentrate on the needle sticking out of my arm. She carefully pushed the plunger, injecting the fluid containing the weakened germs into my bloodstream. With the speed and accuracy acquired from years of practice, she gingerly removed the needle from the injection site and pressed a small piece of gauze against it to keep any blood from oozing out.

She turned to the table that held her supplies and reached for the bandage that was laying there. Unfortunately, she had to bend at a rather awkward angle to get at it and wasn’t having much luck. Realizing her predicament, she facehoofed and muttered something in her native tongue that sounded highly rude.

“A little help, please?” she demanded irritably. Seeing my unamused glare, she huffed irritably and said, “What? I said, please.”

“Yeah, but it’s the imperious tone you used that rubbed me the wrong way.”

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. She then took a deep breath, and in a softer tone, asked, “Could you please get that bandage for me so I can place it over the injection site?”

“That’s better,” I said with a smile as I handed her the requested item. She applied the bandage with a delicate, caring touch that I wasn’t expecting from her.

I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating, but I could’ve sworn I caught a ghost of a smile on her face as she thanked me for my help. For a moment, it almost seemed like we might be connecting as more than acquaintances, or at least burying the hatchet.

Then she turned away ‒ pen in mouth, busily scribbling notes as if I wasn’t even there ‒ and the moment passed. I shook my head, chastising myself for thinking that she’d ever give me more than the time of day. It felt strange, but I had to admit to myself that for the first time in forever, I was actually starting to care about how those around me felt about me.

I wanted to close myself off from the rest of the world and continue the life of solitude I’d had before, but events just weren’t letting that happen. For better or worse, I was being forced to discard my defenses and risk trusting others again.

Even if that weren’t the case, simple pragmatism dictated how I ought to react to this new environment. I was the alien here, after all. Even if I could adjust to that, I still had to face the fact that most of the locals might never do better than grudgingly accept my presence here. There wasn’t a whole lot I could do to change that except to be as nice a person as I could be.

As I hopped down from the lukewarm examination table that I’d been sitting on for the past ten minutes, I took a moment to truly contemplate Faran as a fellow sapient being. She was fairly tall for a mare ‒ almost as tall as some of the stallions I’d seen. However, she also seemed to have the same lithe build as the average Equestrian mare.

In the interest of candor, even my alien eyes could see that ponies might find a certain exotic beauty in her. She could very well have had a career in modeling had fate not called her to a life of healing others. I didn’t understand the attraction myself, especially since her mane and tail fell into some strange Uncanny Valley when compared to horses back home.

At most, like every other pony, she’d be a friend someday. Or at least she could, if she’d quit being such a bitch to me.

My thoughts were interrupted by a seemingly random sideways twitch of Faran’s tail ‒ a twitch that once more offered a glimpse of intimate pony flesh beneath. With a strangled noise, I immediately attempted to avert my eyes. Sadly, I’d lingered on the furry expanse of her backside a little too long, and the damage was already done.

For the second time in nearly a week, the image of Faran’s thin, pouting outer labia was permanently seared into my mind. And while it’s entirely possible that I was imagining things, I could’ve sworn those nether lips parted for just a moment, unveiling the pink, fleshy passage within ever so slightly. The sight certainly would’ve been arousing, had Faran been human. As it was, it just produced a disturbed shudder.

I had to put the thought out of my mind, however, since I had bigger problems to deal with at the moment. Namely, the fact that my reaction to the involuntary twinge alerted her to what I’d been doing.

“The first look’s for free, y’know,” she said without looking up from her paperwork. After a moment, she turned towards me and jabbed me with a hoof as she continued. “If I catch you looking lustfully at my nethers without my permission again, I’ll buck you into the middle of next week.”

“Kinky,” I murmured.

Faran buried her face in her hoof at this, though I couldn’t help but notice a slight blush as well. Taking a moment to compose herself, she gazed at me with her head tilted quizzically. I thought I detected a suspicious cast to her gaze, but even if I couldn’t see it, it certainly came out in her next words: “I didn’t exactly hear you deny ogling my backside, you know.”

I snorted derisively. “Like you’d have believed me if I denied it.” I held up a finger to forestall any objections. “And for the record, I do deny looking at your ass with lustful intent.”

“I don’t own a donkey. Slavery has been illegal in Equestria since its founding.”

“What?”

“You said you denied looking at my ass with lu‒”

“Yes, I know what I said,” I groaned. “I meant that I wasn’t looking at your rump with lustful intent. Excuse me for not being clearer.”

“Humans use the word ‘ass’ to refer to the rump?” Faran shook her head as if disappointed. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand your species.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll understand them,” I muttered, which resulted in Nurse Faran issuing a derisive snort of her own. “But let’s get back to the issue at hand.”

“Okay, but that means you’re going to have to explain why you were looking under my tail,” she said with an icy smile.

“I wasn’t look… I-I didn’t mean…” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I was trying to figure out what makes you tick.”

“And you thought you’d find it between my haunches?” Faran’s eyebrow raised at that.

I stared flatly at her. “Well, there was such a big stick up your ass‒”

“Tailhole,” she corrected automatically.

“Are we seriously having this conversation?” I demanded waspishly. Faran gave me a look that said you tell me.

“Anyway,” I said, “there was such a big stick up your poop chute that I couldn’t help but wonder who put it there.”

“What, were you hoping to put your own stick in my other hole and screw it out of me?”

“As much as I’d enjoy the moment of silence from you, I’m not desperate enough for that kind of interspecies relations,” I said. “Even if I were, I have better options available.”

“What? You mean that blue pegasus who presented herself to you like a cheap floozy?” Faran replied with a smug smirk.

“One: How did you hear about that? Two: Rainbow Dash is at best a friend, nothing more. Why should you care about how she behaves around me?”

“Doctor Silverclaw filled me in on the incident with Miss Dash. He saw the whole thing, as he was sitting down in the dining hall. And as for your second question ‒” here she paused for a moment and visibly composed herself “‒ I would be remiss in my duties as your primary health care provider if I let you rut random mares in dingy back alleys, only to find out at your next appointment that you’ve contracted the clop.”

“The… clop?”

“It’s a venereal disease. It mostly affects ponies, but other sapient species can be carriers. Symptoms in ponies include a burning sensation when urinating, a milky white or green discharge from the genitals, conjunctivitis, and lower abdominal or pelvic pain.”

“Oh,” I said, crestfallen. I’d heard unusual euphemisms for STDs before, but that was a new one on me. The symptoms sounded oddly familiar, too ‒ as if there were a terrestrial counterpart to the disease. It seemed that the list of eerie parallels between Equis and Earth kept growing the longer I stayed here.

“Now, if there’s nothing else, I believe our visit is concluded for today.” She peremptorily pointed a hoof at the door. I took that as my cue to leave, numbly shaking my head at what had just transpired.

“Crazy fucking ponies,” I muttered to myself as I walked out the door and moved on with my life.

Even though the week had passed slowly, the weekend was a blur of activity. On Saturday, Twilight and her friends visited me once more. Unlike Silverclaw, Twilight was more reluctant to expose me to the general public. Thus, we spent the day on the castle grounds. In the course of the visit, Twilight drilled me on Equestria’s calendar system, system of government, and even had time to at least get me started on learning to read and write in Standard Equestrian.

Most of Twilight’s friends managed to contribute something to the lessons, even if it was little more than a personal anecdote (or in Pinkie’s case, some seemingly random factoid that later proved invaluable in answering some of the more fiendishly difficult review questions Twilight had come up with ‒ the less said about Pinkie’s comment about the price of “personal lubricant” and the scandal that ended First Councillor Coco Drop’s political career a few years prior to my arrival, the better).

Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, seemed little interested in educational pursuits, and mostly contributed various pranks or teasing comments. As far as the latter was concerned, I was much better prepared mentally than when we first met ‒ I had missed several easy opportunities for good comebacks or ways to up the ante during the castle tour, and I hadn’t felt right about myself since for doing so. I wasn’t about to let those opportunities slip by again…

Within reason, of course. While I was certain that she had a thick skin and could take anything I threw at her, I was going to have to be careful with the sexual teasing. That could easily get out of hand, and I didn’t want to slip up and do something offensive… or worse, turn her on.

Ruby Weave had been busy during the week of preparations, and by Thursday, the 27th of Last Light ‒ which happened to coincide with Thursday, December 27th on the human calendar ‒ I had accumulated about a week’s worth of clothes thanks to her diligent efforts. Naturally, that meant that I’d just about worn all of my clothes by Sunday. I would’ve done my own laundry, but the castle staff insisted on doing it for me, since I was a guest of the princesses. That would’ve meant a whole day of boredom, but Twilight had insisted that I use the day to review what she and the others had taught me while she and the girls went back to Ponyville to oversee the final preparations for my arrival.

Twilight had even made a schedule out for me that contained what I needed to study, and how long I was to spend studying each item. The only reason why I could even make out the schedule was because I’d transcribed it into written English with Twilight’s assistance. She’d also failed to account for the fact that while I was no slouch academically, I was far from being on her level. As a result, my studies ended up taking most of the day, instead of the six hours she’d planned for. By the end of it, my brain was more than a little fried, and I barely had enough time to pack my clothes before falling into an exhausted and dreamless slumber upon the plush silk sheets of the exquisitely-crafted minotaur-sized bed in the guest room that I’d been assigned to.

I awoke the next morning at a few minutes past seven, more rested than I had been at any time in recent memory. Not being a morning person, however, it still took me a good half hour to assemble enough coherent thought to rouse myself from bed, get a shower, and get dressed. As I emerged from the en-suite bathroom fresh as a daisy and ready to face the day, I glanced at the stout grandfather clock in the corner by the door. It read half-past eight, so I had some time to kill before my ten-thirty meeting with some of the faculty at the Canterlot Institute of Applied and Arcane Science ‒ a prestigious academy second only to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.

I took my time getting dressed in an outfit appropriate for a day filled with meet-and-greets ‒ khaki slacks, a gray collared shirt, and a belt and dress shoes made of a material that Ruby had called “mageweave.” Mageweave was interesting in that it had all the properties of leather without actually being leather. Once I was dressed, I looked back at the clock, only to slump in disappointment upon discovering that only fifteen minutes had passed. Deflated and defeated, I decided to spend the rest of the time before I had to leave reviewing my written Equestrian.

The biggest adjustment I had to make in learning the ponies’ written language was the fact that it was a phonetic alphabet rather than traditional English orthography. This meant a larger character set to learn ‒ something I didn’t exactly relish, even though I’d rarely had problems learning how to read and write in a foreign language. It also meant that while spelling would generally be more consistent, I’d be more reliant on context clues to distinguish things like homophones. That would come with time, however, and practice.

In the meantime, I still had a schedule to keep. Twilight and her friends would be arriving on the train from Ponyville while I was otherwise occupied, and we’d be leaving for my new place of residence shortly after lunch. At precisely ten o’clock, Princess Cadance and Shining Armor arrived to escort me to the courtyard, where a pegasus-drawn carriage was waiting to take me to meet ponykind’s top academics.

Despite my uncertainty about my first trip in a vehicle built by nonhuman sapients ‒ especially since it didn’t look particularly aerodynamic ‒ the trip was about as smooth as flying in a Cessna. Then again, the flight didn’t last more than five minutes, so it was a little difficult to judge.

Upon arrival, I was greeted by a small herd of ponies ‒ most of whose faces and names I would be very hard pressed to remember. They gave me a tour of the campus, pointing out various academic buildings and explaining the research that went on therein. Our tour’s final destination was a lab deep in the bowels of the “Modern Computational Mechanics” building ‒ a gothic-style monolith made from the same polished white stone as the palace.

But it was the device inside the lab that merited mention. From a sturdy wooden base arose a series of metal spires, each filled with a collection of interlocking gears. The unusual contraption was connected to a crank handle on one end, and something resembling the unholy mating of a printing press and a generator exhaust fan on the other. It took a couple of minutes for me to recognize what I was looking at.

A difference engine… These ponies have actually managed to build a working difference engine. I chuckled softly to myself. If Charles Babbage could see what I’m seeing…

One of the pegasi in the group must’ve noticed my reaction, because he smugly asked if I was impressed. I gave him my honest opinion. Looking back on it as I returned to the castle following a (necessarily vegetarian) catered lunch, I couldn’t be certain which emotion dominated his features: curiosity, or vexation at being brought down a peg.

I was pulled from my reverie with a slight jolt as the carriage touched down in the same courtyard we’d departed from. A trio of familiar ponies were waiting for me as I emerged from the carriage into the blindingly bright sunlight.

“Welcome back!” Princess Cadance greeted me cheerfully. “How was the Institute?”

“Interesting. It made me realize that living here’s going to be like going back in time about a hundred years or so.”

“How so?” Shining Armor asked.

“Well, with the exception of medicine, which I’m guessing is accounted for by magic, Equestria’s average technology level seems to be roughly equivalent to that of the Victorian Era on Earth, about one-hundred fifty years ago.” I looked at the ground glumly. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to going without certain… modern conveniences.”

“I… see…” Shining replied, nonplussed.

“Anyway,” Princess Cadance said, in an attempt to break up the awkward atmosphere, “We should get going. Everyone’s waiting for us in the throne room.” With that, the royal couple turned and led the way inside.

“Everyone?” I inquired as we passed through the door into the slightly warmer interior of the castle.

“Well, not quite everyone,” Nurse Faran, our other companion, supplied. “Doctor Silverclaw’s running a little late. He was giving a lecture at the Institute about hereditary diseases in griffons.”

“I… see…” I said, echoing Shining Armor’s earlier bemusement. “So he’s qualified to teach about medicine as well as practice it?”

Faran nodded. “Though I think he does it more for the speaking fees than out of any love for teaching.”

“I… see…”

“I… see…” a disturbingly familiar voice to my left echoed my sentiment, then paused briefly. “Wait… What am I supposed to be seeing again?”

I did a quick heel turn to my left to get a good look at the interloper, and jumped back in surprise at seeing Pinkie Pie ‒ who had somehow managed to mimic my bipedal stance amazingly well for a quadrupedal being.

The only coherent response I could come up with was to slap my hand to my forehead. “Goddammit, Pinkie Pie!” I hissed.

“How did you even get here so fast?” Faran demanded, one eyebrow raised, “None of us saw you coming.”

“Oh, I just got here with a hop, skip, and a jump! Easy peasy,” Pinkie chirped.

“Wh‒? Bu‒?” Faran sputtered, struggling to find words for the mind screw that the electric pink mare had just pulled off.

“I’m starting to think that logic doesn’t work with her,” I murmured in Faran’s ear.

Faran blinked owlishly a few times before shaking her head. “You certainly have some interesting friends, Mister Knox,” she replied in a low tone so as not to be heard by a certain party pony.

I rolled my eyes at that. “Don’t remind me.”

We continued walking in relative silence for a few minutes. The only sounds we heard were my relatively soft footfalls, the rhythmic plodding of Princess Cadance, Shining Armor and Faran, and Pinkie’s overly-enthusiastic bouncing. We passed by several guards and members of the castle staff, but few spared us more than a cursory glance. Most were too busy with their duties to care, and the rest had had plenty of opportunity to get used to my presence in the castle over the past week.

As we neared the throne room, I sidled up to Faran for a private consultation. “There’s something that’s been bothering me about the… incident last Friday.”

Faran looked askance at me. “What about it?”

“When we first met, you told me that ponies don’t have a nudity taboo, yet you upbraided me for… y’know…”

“Getting a glance at my mare bits?” she muttered with a sour expression on her muzzle. The effect was slightly ruined by a ghost of a sly smile.

“I wouldn’t put it that way…”

“Then, how would you put it?” she asked, a challenging note in her voice as the sly smile became more real.

“A reason for me to invent brain bleach,” I said in a deadpan tone, “because no amount of alcohol’s gonna get that mental image out of my head.”

A starburst of pain erupted from my ribcage as Faran jabbed me with a hoof in retaliation. I leveled her with an outraged glare. “What the hell was that for?”

She buried her face in a hoof in response. “Trócaireach Luna, tá tú ar leathcheann uaireanta.”

I frowned and furrowed my brow in irritation. “I don’t speak… whatever the weird parallel version of Gaelic is here.”

“Capallian.”

“Yeah, that.” I waved my hand dismissively. “There’s a place back on Earth called Ireland where the language is still spoken, to a degree. Some of my ancestors came from there, but I never really bothered to learn the language.”

“Well, perhaps you should rectify that oversight sometime,” Faran replied with a smile that seemed almost genuine. “It is a beautiful language ‒ in the right hooves.”

“No time like the present,” I retorted. “We can start with what you said just now.” I repeated the sentence as best I could, but with the way she was looking at me like I’d just farted, I knew I’d screwed up.

“That was the worst pile of gibberish I’d ever heard,” she intoned critically. She then repeated the sentence, much slower this time. “It means, ‘Merciful Luna, you are an idiot sometimes.’” She paused, a reflective cast to her features. “Which you are, sometimes.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Faran gave a derisive snort at that. “Says the ‘man’ whose species apparently requires a nudity taboo to tell them not to gawk at somepony’s genitals.”

“Bite me.”

“Are you really offering me that?” she asked with an evil grin. I was about to reply when we were rudely interrupted.

“Geez, get a room, you two!” a tomboyish voice called out to us.

“I thought you liked to watch, Dash,” I retorted with a smirk, not even bothering to look in her direction. The smirk quickly died when I looked at her to see her reaction. Faran and I had been so caught up in our mutual sniping that we didn’t notice that we had arrived at the throne room, and had been making a scene in front of Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and Twilight and her friends.

I slapped a hand to my forehead with an exasperated groan as Faran jabbed me in the side reproachfully. We then took a moment to compose ourselves before addressing our audience.

“Our sincerest apologies, Your Majesties,” Faran replied with the pony version of a deep bow. “We didn’t mean to make a spectacle of ourselves.”

Princess Celestia waved a hoof dismissively. “I’m not worried about the occasional outburst, so long as you two are actually getting along better.” She leaned in to look over us with a penetrating gaze. “Are you?”

Faran and I glanced at each other uncertainly. “I guess?” I replied, turning back to Princess Celestia with a raised eyebrow.

Faran was less hesitant in her reply. “I suppose we are,” she huffed. “There have been some… difficulties, but they should be behind us now.” I regarded her with a skeptical glance. “Trust me,” she replied in hushed tones, “it’s better this way.”

“If you say so,” I replied back, the dubious tone impossible to miss. Princess Celestia probably noticed our little tête–à–tête, but chose not to comment on it for some reason.

Rarity tittered daintily. “Well, Derren, you sure move fast. We leave you two alone for a week, and you’re already bickering like an old married couple. Perhaps there’s something you’d like to share with the class?” she said in an arch tone that matched her expression.

“It’s not like that!” Faran and I replied in unison, cheeks flaming.

“Really? Do tell. What is it like, then?”

Thankfully, Princess Cadance was there to save our bacon. “Rarity, you know it’s not nice to tease,” she gently chided the white unicorn. Cadance then put a hoof to her chin in a contemplative expression. “I must admit, though, that this situation certainly has interesting potential,” she added, a devastating smile worming its way onto her lips, her horn softly glowing a pale blue shade.

“Sweet Zombie Jesus, you two are insufferable,” I muttered, slapping my forehead with a palm.

“As amusing as this little diversion is,” Princess Luna said, bearing a smirk of her own, “it is time to depart for Ponyville.”

I almost didn’t hear that last part in my irritated brooding. The light tap of a hoof on my right arm brought me back to reality.

“Something wrong?” Twilight asked in concerned sympathy.

“Just wondering why everyone seems to find nearly limitless comedic value in insinuating things about my relationship with Nurse Faran that aren’t true,” I grumbled.

Twilight giggled at that as our group left the throne room. “You’ll have to forgive Rarity and Cadance. Rarity’s a bit of a romantic at heart, and she just relishes stories about ponies starting off at odds with each other and eventually realizing their true feelings. Perhaps she sees some of that in the way your nurse has been acting around you.”

“Really?” I demanded.

Twilight nodded, and I let out a disgruntled noise in response before continuing. “The tsundere archetype really annoys me. I don’t understand how anyone can find such a character sympathetic.”

Twilight smiled. “You’d have to ask Rarity about that. I’ve never understood the appeal myself. Then again, I’m more into stories with a doggedly nice mare who gradually wins the stallion’s heart with her kindness. Either that, or a good adventure story.”

“I never took you for the romantic type, Twilight.”

“There’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” she said with a knowing smile.

All I could respond with was a lame, “Yes, I’m sure.” I then pointedly cleared my throat. “Anyway, what’s Princess Cadance’s excuse for jumping on the ‘mercilessly tease the alien with salacious slander’ bandwagon?”

Twilight gave a light, good-humored chuckle before explaining, “Cadance is the Princess of Love. Her special talent relates to love in all its forms, but especially romantic love. That sort of literature naturally falls within her purview.”

“Wouldn’t that sort of be like taking your work home with you?” I replied.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Twilight said, playfully sticking her tongue out at me.

I rolled my eyes at the display, but laughed despite myself. A minute later, we emerged into the sunlight that danced in the courtyard near the South Gate.

Twilight and I had lagged behind the others during our conversation. Although most of my attention was focused on her, I couldn’t help but notice one thing that bothered me: Rarity’s tail did a really poor job of hiding her “feminine charms” from view. It may have simply been a consequence of her preferred tail style, but it made me realize two things.

One: I would have to make a conscious effort to avoid even the appearance of looking at a mare’s backside in an offensive manner. Secondly, even with my best efforts, there was no way that I could completely avoid catching an accidental glimpse of what lay under a mare’s tail ‒ especially with all those pegasi flying around. Like it or not, I was eventually going to become desensitised to seeing random “mare bits,” as Faran had put it.

In the courtyard, there were two large carriages waiting for our party. Each had a team of pegasus Royal Guards making final safety checks before hitching themselves up to their assigned transport. One was a mud-colored stagecoach that looked like it belonged on the set of a Spaghetti Western, while the other vehicle ‒ a gleaming white open-air chariot with gold trim and studded with jewels ‒ was much more ornate, as if it was made for royalty. I had a feeling that the latter served as the pony version of Air Force One, and that those of us without royal status were expected to occupy the former.

As we approached our rides, the sound of powerful wings beating the air reached our ears. Craning our eyes to the skies, we eventually caught sight of a familiar griffon approaching from a southwesterly direction. Less than two minutes later, Doctor Silverclaw touched down in a flurry of brown feathers. He caught sight of me, and a joyful gleam lit his eyes that set me at ease, due to the rapport I had built up with him over the last week.

“Ahh, my dear friend, Meeester Knox!” he said grandly, draping a talon across my shoulders in an exaggerated display of gregariousness. “I was hoping I’d get to see you before you left for Ponyville.”

“Good to see you, too, Doc. I was told you’d gone to the Institute, as well,” I replied, nearly matching his infectious enthusiasm with my own. “Too bad I didn’t know about it until I got back. We could’ve had lunch or something.”

“Yes, most unfortunate,” he said. “I was in the middle of my lecture at the time, and didn’t find out you were ever even there until after you’d left.” He descended into a brief fit of chuckles before continuing. “From what I hear, you had a most interesting time at the Institute, yes?”

“Sure,” I groused, “Interesting in the sense of the ancient Chinese curse. May you live in interesting times, indeed.”

“Yes, but hardly surprising, given your rather… unique approach to interspecies diplomacy. From what I hear, you really lit a fire under the tails of the faculty there. That’s why I always say, ‘leave diplomacy to the diplomats.’” He shook his head sadly before losing himself in mirth once more.

Meanwhile, I found myself facing the withering assault of Twilight and Faran’s dual glares. “What did you do?” Twilight demanded, audibly punctuating each word for emphasis.

I reached up and began to massage my temples with my fingers, already feeling the oncoming headache. I could tell that this would not end well. “They showed me the most advanced purely technological computing device available to ponykind ‒ a difference engine.”

“And?” Nurse Faran asked, clearly missing the point.

“And back on Earth, the difference engine was obsolete before the first prototype was even finished,” I replied, continuing to seek tactile relief for the throbbing in my head. “So if they were trying to impress me, they failed horribly.” I paused, then mumbled, “And I may have told them as such.”

“I’m sorry,” Twilight replied, “what was that?”

I collapsed against the stagecoach and slid down until I was sitting with my heels against my butt, resting my chin on my knees. “I told them that human children play with more sophisticated toys.”

Faran promptly buried her face in a hoof, presumably muttering about what an idiot I was in “Capallian” once more.

Twilight had a hoof pressed to her muzzle, as well. “Didn’t they tell you that they’re trying to develop purely technological means of producing many of the items we use in order to make up for the relative rarity of unicorns with the talents required to maintain our arcane technology?”

“Sure, they did ‒ after the damage was done,” I said huffily. “I certainly would’ve been much more understanding if they’d thought to mention it at the outset. But no, they just had to ‘wow the barbarian’ with their technological wizardry.” The sarcasm with which I’d said the last sentence was acidic enough to instantly corrode titanium.

“Derren,” Twilight said in a carefully controlled voice that made the hair on my neck stand on end, “I realize that you may not be trained in the art of diplomacy, but for Celestia’s sake, could you please try to exercise some degree of tact?”

“For Celestia’s sake? What is she, some sort of goddess to you, or something?”

“No, she ‒” Twilight blinked a couple of times, then vigorously shook her head “‒ That’s not important!” She punctuated the statement with a powerful stomp of her hoof, causing Fluttershy to shrink back with an adorable-sounding terrified squeak. “What’s important is that you can’t go around insulting everyone who irritates you. You’re not going to get very far here if my friends and I are the only ones who will tolerate you because you’ve burned all your bridges!”

I jerked my head up and looked her in the eye. She had a point, of course. I took a deep breath to compose myself, then let it out in a long, low sigh. “You’re right, Twilight. I guess all the stress of the sudden change in my circumstances finally got to me, and I took it out on… mostly innocent bystanders. I should apologize to them.”

“There’s no time for that,” Luna stated matter-of-factly. “You still have an appointment with the citizens of Ponyville. I’ll go to the Institute and smooth over any ruffled feathers on your behalf.” Her eyes settled on me and her face took on that expression mothers always get that never fails to get a recalcitrant child to own up to what they did wrong. “However, once things cool down, an apology will be most welcome. Hoof-written would be fine, but in-person is preferable. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I squeaked out.

“Good. Now, if there is nothing else, I believe we all have places to be.”

With that, those who were leaving exchanged heartfelt goodbyes with those remaining behind. Shining Armor and I shared an earnest hand-/hoof-shake, while his wife gave me a warm, if chaste, hug as she whispered in my ear. I shuddered as we disengaged from the hug, and it wasn’t from the chilly winter air.

Silverclaw and I bumped fists as we parted, exchanging somewhat sincere promises to meet up again when I came back to make amends to those whom I had offended. The week I’d spent with him had been a real eye-opener, and while I wasn’t quite ready to call him a good friend, we’d made a fairly promising start in that direction.

We promptly boarded the aircraft ‒ though to be honest, calling it an “aircraft” still seemed like a bit of a stretch, even after having just taken one to and from the Institute like an airborne taxi. I was in the middle, facing forward, with Twilight on my left, Applejack on my right, and Rarity to Applejack’s right. Sitting across from me, from left to right, sat Rainbow, Faran, Pinkie, and Fluttershy.

“So,” Dash said, a devious glint in her rose-colored eyes as we all settled into our seats, “I saw that you were getting pretty chummy with Princess Cadance just now. Care to tell us what she said to you?” She added a lewd waggle of her eyebrows for emphasis.

I was ready for her this time, though. “Just a caution not to introduce you to the magic of fingers too soon,” I replied with a smirk of my own. “After all, I don’t know what your… pleasure threshold is. In fact, I may not introduce you to them at all, given how devastatingly effective they were last time.” I playfully stuck my tongue out at her.

Faran looked around at the reactions ‒ eye-rolling from Twilight, Rarity, and Applejack; barely suppressed mirth from Pinkie; and flustered blushing from the two pegasi. She stared intently at me with her emerald eyes. “I’m assuming there was more to your little tour of the castle than meets the eye,” she said.

“There was,” I replied neutrally, “but I’d rather not get into detail about it, except to say that it was one of a growing list of foot-in-mouth moments on my part.”

“And if I had to guess, it was more like the incident last Thursday than your exploits at the Institute,” she groaned.

“No comment,” I replied dourly.

"Wait, what incident?" Twilight asked curiously.

"I said, 'no comment,'" I repeated in perhaps a harsher tone than intended, judging from the shocked expressions around the cabin. "Sorry about that. I just don't want to talk about it right now."

"O-okay, then," Twilight replied.

As the doors to the carriage were securely shut, I felt a hoof nudge my right shoulder, and turned to see Applejack beckoning me closer. “So, what did Princess Cadance really say to you?” she whispered.

“All she said was that interspecies romance, while uncommon, was perfectly acceptable here.” My expression soured, and I whispered in her ear. “I think she’s trying to push Faran and I together.”

Applejack gave a dismissive, but friendly chuckle at that. “Twilight says that she doesn’t have that kind of power, and even if she did, I know for a fact that she wouldn’t force two ponies ‒ or a pony and a hoomin in your case ‒ to be together,” she whispered back.

“‘Sides,” she added, “there ain’t nothin’ romantic about mind control, if you ask me.”

“All the same,” I amended, “I think she’s rooting for us to get together, if you catch my drift. Her and Rarity.” My sour expression grew even more sour at that. At the same time, a strangled whicker came from across the vehicle’s cabin, and out of the corner of my eye, I barely caught sight of Faran’s roan coat blooming a bright pink. I couldn’t be certain if that pink indicated embarrassment or inchoate rage.

The farm pony and I offered a nervous smile to Faran, who harrumphed loudly and pointedly found something interesting to look at outside of our ride. Applejack chuckled again, gently patting my shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, sugarcube. You’ll have plenty of time to decide for yourself if you want to get involved with a pony like that. Just relax and give yourself a chance to settle in before you decide anything.”

With that, Applejack turned away, drawn into a hushed conversation with Rarity. Through the right-side windows, I watched as the chariot bearing Princess Celestia surged forward and gained altitude. In a strange way, it was like a commercial airliner having its takeoff delayed by the arrival or departure of the president’s official aircraft.

The parallel struck me as oddly amusing, and it reminded me of one other familiar aspect of air travel back home ‒ one that the late, great George Carlin once took enormous pleasure in parodying.

Faran must have noticed the goofy expression on my face, because she asked, “Something funny, Mister Knox?”

“You could say that. I just realized that this will probably be my first long distance flight in Equestria. In an odd sort of way, it’s not too different from back home. The only thing really missing ‒ aside from excessive and laughably ineffective security procedures ‒ is ‘uniformed crewmembers’ droning on about in-flight safety.”

“Boring?”

I nodded. “Especially if you regularly travel by air.” I stroked my chin in thought. “There was one airline company that at least tried to make the safety lecture more bearable by injecting humor into it.”

“Really?” Twilight replied with a slight smile. “Perhaps you might like to enliven our trip with a little demonstration?”

I glanced over at Pinkie, who seemed to be positively vibrating with excitement at the prospect of something funny happening. “Well,” I said, “I’m no comedian, but I suppose I could give it a shot.”

Suddenly, a loud bang shook the carriage, and five of my companions glared in the direction of the sound. Following their highly unamused gazes, Faran and I saw Pinkie sheepishly grinning, an expended party popper held gently in her hooves. Confetti and streamers littered the cabin with all the order of a blender filled with peanut butter and set to frappé.

“What?” she cried innocently. “He said he’d give it a shot. I just thought I’d help!”

Even if Twilight and the rest of her friends were used to Pinkie’s antics, I sure as hell wasn’t. I shook my head in disbelief. Where did she even get a party popper that size? For that matter, where was she hiding it? On second thought, do I even want to know where she was hiding it?

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden jostling as the carriage got underway. The pegasi pulling it were steadily building up to takeoff speed, so I figured that was as good a time as any to get underway myself.

“Fillies and gentlecolts, I’m Derren Knox, your chief flight attendant. On behalf of our intrepid captain and the rest of our flight crew, I’d like to welcome you aboard Equestria Airlines’ Flight Forty-Two. Our one scheduled stop is in Ponyville, at the end of our trip, since unscheduled apple orchard stops do tend to disrupt the flow of one’s day.”

“They do, indeed,” Applejack chuckled, pointedly staring at Rainbow Dash, who in turn let out an annoyed huff.

I continued with my improvised spiel. “Our estimated flight time is thirty minutes, assuming we don’t get caught in any temporal loops. We will also be flying at an altitude of only five thousand feet, so if any of you were hoping to join the mile-high club on this flight, you’re simply out of luck.”

“Oh, darn,” Rainbow Dash groaned in mock disappointment.

“At this time, we would like to ask that you make sure your seat backs are forward, and if you can maintain that position for the duration of our flight, I’m sure the Equestrian Pornography Industry Coalition would be very interested in speaking with you about a possible career change.” I took the opportunity to aim my own pointed gaze at Dash.

This quip was mostly met with hooves striking faces, but I also noticed most of the bodies connected to those faces were quaking with barely-suppressed mirth. Most tellingly, the only one who openly approved of it was a certain sky-blue pegasus who had already demonstrated an appreciation for dirty jokes.

A jolt and the brief feeling of my gut trying to exit via my ass told me that we were airborne. With a flight back on Earth, the safety demonstration would already be done at this point, but I was on a roll, so I decided to keep going. I took a moment to consider my next move. I needed an assistant for this part, and the only one who might be capable of pulling it off was Pinkie Pie. As much as I hated to admit it, the mare was quite adept at pulling random junk out of nowhere.

I gave her a questioning glance that served as a silent plea for help, and she nodded enthusiastically. And so, with a relieved smile, I picked up where I left off:

“My fellow flight attendant, Pinkie Pie, who I’m told moonlights as a living antidepressant, will now help me demonstrate the safety features of this Type Sixty-Nine Rickshaw ‒” Rainbow Dash snorted a laugh at the number “‒ which are also listed in the safety information card located in the pocket by the door, along with used diapers, old chewing gum, four days concentrated rations, one issue of prophylactics, three sticks of lipstick, and three pairs of nylon stockings. Let me tell you, someone could have a pretty good weekend in Las Pegasus with all of that stuff.”

I was pretty sure Pinkie got more of a laugh out of our audience on that one with all the random crap she was pulling out of hammerspace, but they can’t all be winners.

“The safety information card is written with simple-to-understand graphics so that even an illiterate fool like me can understand it. And if I can understand it, you can too, so please, for the love of Celestia, at least give it a once-over after I’m done talking at you.”

My self-deprecating humor was met with good-natured chuckles, some of which came from a surprising source ‒ Faran.

“For your safety, we recommend that your seat belt be worn at all times. The seatbelts on this aircraft are so easy to use, a caveman could do it. All you have to do is ‒” I looked over to see that Pinkie had managed to tie herself in knots with the demonstration seat belt “‒ the exact opposite of what Pinkie just did.”

In the blink of an eye, Pinkie had managed to disentangle herself and get the demo belt buckled properly. “That’s better, Pinkie,” I said.

The pink mare bowed, and our audience laughed and clapped their forehooves together, which was the best they could do in the cramped quarters.

I continued with the safety lecture. “In the event of an emergency, the doors on either side of the aircraft will allow you to exit in as much of a panic as comes naturally with such a situation. I would say that we also have two exits over the wings, but I’m sure that our pilot and co-pilot would have objections to their use.”

Everyone groaned at the horrible joke, but Dash and Fluttershy in particular shuddered at the implications. Undeterred, I pressed on.

“As this aircraft is not designed for travel above ten thousand feet, it does not come with a pressurized cabin. However, in the unlikely event that Discord breaks free of his stone prison and teleports us into low orbit, we are equipped with oxygen masks that will drop from an overhead compartment. Once you have finished screaming your lungs out, you may start the flow of oxygen through the mask by pulling it towards you.

“Place the mask firmly over your muzzle and secure it to your head with the elastic straps first before assisting any children, or any adults acting like children. Please note that while the plastic bag does not inflate, you are receiving the Surgeon General’s Recommended Daily Allowance of oxygen, so continue to breathe as normally as possible while enduring an uncontrolled dive at terminal velocity.”

For some reason, this section of my routine got the biggest laughs of all. If I had to guess, however, I’d say it was due to the sheer absurdity of what I was saying.

But all good things must come to an end, and so I brought the safety lecture to a close.

“Thank you for at least trying to stay awake during this safety demonstration. If there’s anything we can do to make your flight more enjoyable, please let us know at the end of the flight. If there’s anything you can do to make our flight more enjoyable, we’ll let you know immediately. We hope you have a pleasant flight, and as always, we want to thank you for choosing Equestria Airlines. Our wallets thank you for choosing Equestria Airlines, as well.”

Raucous laughter and hearty applause met the conclusion of my routine. Pinkie and I bowed graciously in acceptance of the adulation of our fellow passengers, then sat back in our seats.

“That was certainly… interesting,” Twilight said with an amused smile.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Air travel wouldn’t be as dull if more airlines let their employees do that sort of thing.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said with a demure smile. She looked out the window for a moment before turning back to me. “We’ve got some time before we arrive in Ponyville. I’d like to review your progress on learning written Equestrian, if you don’t mind.”

“Well,” I said facetiously, with an air of one who is put-upon by the demands of social interaction, “I was going to read my copy of Moby Dick, but seeing as how that’s on the other side of the portal, I suppose I can make time for you.”

“Yes, it’s such a horrible inconvenience to let learning get in the way of low-brow entertainment,” Twilight deadpanned.

“Hey! Moby Dick’s a classic!”

We mock-glared at each other for a few moments before the tension was broken by the peals of laughter erupting from our mouths. We ignored the bemused stares of the other passengers even after the laughter had petered out.

“Seriously, though,” Twilight said, holding up a stack of cards in her telekinetic aura. “It wouldn’t hurt to review what you know so that I know how best to help you become literate again.”

I let out a resigned sigh. “Okay, Twilight, you win.”

“Excellent! Now, let’s begin…”

“Okay, try this one.” Yet another card bearing a glyph from the Equestrian alphabet floated in front of me, glowing magenta in Twilight’s telekinetic aura. We had been doing this almost nonstop the whole trip, with the notable exception of a five minute break so that I could look out the window and take in the scenery as it flashed by around us. A fog had invaded my brain, turning it into mush as I tried to make sense of the symbol in front of me.

“Umm… sh as in sure?” I guessed, adjusting my glasses nervously with one hand and massaging my forehead with the other.

“No, that would be if it looked like this.” Twilight rotated the card a half turn. “When it’s like this ‒” she flipped the card back to its original orientation “‒ it represents the sound zh, as in measure.”

A mixture of fatigue and frustration left me in a hiss of escaping air. “I can already see that this is going to take much longer than I’d like.” My right hand reached up under my glasses, and my fingers gently worked the tension out of my forehead. “While it may be logical to make the symbol for a hard consonant look similar to its soft counterpart, it sure makes the learning curve that much steeper.”

“Well, you’ve only been at this for two days,” Twilight replied. “You can’t expect to be an instant expert.”

“No, but I also didn’t have this much trouble starting off, either. I think I need a break to clear my head.”

Twilight fixed me with a dubious stare. “But you just had a break ten minutes ago. Surely your head’s clear enough.”

“Perhaps it’s best that you leave him be, Miss Sparkle,” Faran’s steady voice broke in. She still had her muzzle buried in the book she was reading. “I can tell he’s getting agitated. Pressing him further on this matter won’t help you.”

“Besides,” she added, looking up from her book at last and fixing me with a penetrating gaze, “I do not think that a literacy issue is behind your anxiety, is it, Mister Knox?”

I looked at Faran strangely for a moment. Questions raced through my brain. How did she know what I was feeling? I mean, sure, we’ve been around one another on a regular basis since I got here, but that was only a week ago! That couldn’t be enough time for her to be able to read me that well, could it?

I let out a heavy sigh. “No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking about what happened at the Institute ever since this morning. It’s one thing to insult academics who I’ll probably never see again, but I’m going to be facing ponies who are going to be my neighbors for the foreseeable future. I’d rather not give them cause to hate me if I can help it.”

That, and I’m not sure I could save myself by taking myself hostage if things go badly, I thought.

“I kind of know how you feel,” Fluttershy said with a sympathetic smile. “I get really nervous around new ponies, too.”

“But as long as you act the same way around them as you do around us, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about,” Applejack added, giving me a friendly jab with her hoof.

“I suppose,” I said dubiously.

Twilight looked like she was going to say something, but then a familiar gut-wrenching lurch of the carriage brought everyone’s attention to the windows. “We’re almost there,” she said finally. “Looks like we’re starting final approach to Ponyville.”

Leaning past Twilight, I gazed out the window at the landscape before us. The small, but substantial rural village I’d seen from the archivist’s private residence now loomed large before me. The center of the town was dominated by a large, circular wooden building in the middle of a wide-open field. Most of the buildings that we were flying over were relatively nondescript residential homes.

Beyond the central building, a stream ran through the middle of town, crossed by several bridges that led to a modest commercial district, judging from the looks of the buildings. Several large parks, along with another, less substantial residential district stood watch over the marketplace in an uneasy truce. To our left, another large tower stood at the edge of the open area ‒ a veritable hive of activity with many pegasi flying to and from it on their appointed rounds.

“That’s the main weather patrol station in Ponyville,” Rainbow Dash said, following my gaze.

Twilight then pointed at the other building dominating Ponyville’s skyline. “And that’s Town Hall, where we’ll be introducing you to the citizens of Ponyville. They’ll also be hosting the New Year’s Eve party later tonight.”

We began a lazy circle around the central edifice during our descent. As we got closer, I could see some of the signs of a government building in the architecture ‒ bland, but expensive-looking marble artwork along the outer walls; flags depicting two rearing ponies in silhouette surrounding a pink heart on a yellow background hung at regular intervals; well-dressed ponies wearing the bored gazes of world-weary bureaucrats coming and going in a trance-like state. Even with the brightly painted woodwork, the place practically screamed, “Official officiousness inside: abandon all hope, ye who enter.”

Our carriage glided to a smooth stop in front of what appeared to be a back entrance to the building. The chariot that had borne Princess Celestia was parked nearby, empty. I could only assume that this meant she was already inside.

Barely a minute passed before the carriage doors opened to reveal our pilot and co-pilot urging us to exit in an orderly fashion.

“We’re here,” was all Twilight said before complying with the guard’s request.

Ducking my head to avoid getting a concussion from the doorframe, I exited the carriage and joined the others by the service entrance to Town Hall, where the doors lit up in gray hues and opened automatically to reveal two unicorn guards whose horns were similarly glowing. With an appreciative nod to the guards, I followed everyone else inside.

The interior of Town Hall was lit by gas lanterns that gave off a bright yellow glow, creating a surprisingly warm and inviting atmosphere for a government building. The atmosphere wasn’t doing much for my mood, however, as my mind was still running worst case scenarios as we turned down a hall into a backstage area. I barely heard Twilight mentioning something about how Town Hall doubled as a performing arts venue from time to time, especially on national holidays like Hearth’s Warming Eve.

We had just entered the backstage area when a loud rumbling that sounded like a herd of elephants rampaging through a forest burst forth. Moments later, I could hear Princess Celestia’s muffled voice raining what were no doubt well-rehearsed platitudes on the audience.

As she continued to speak ‒ and get enthusiastic applause from the audience ‒ a thought occurred to me. The moment of truth had just arrived, and I hadn’t even had the opportunity to work up a good stomachache. These ponies had managed to keep me distracted long enough that I didn’t have a plausible excuse to get out of this. I had no choice but to get out there and face the music.

Princess Celestia’s voice rang out like a church bell as she reached the end of her introduction, and the crowd once more fell into enthusiastic applause as the wing curtain parted in a golden glow. The ruler of Equestria was now looking at me expectantly. I knew what I needed to do, but for some reason the signal my brain was sending to move my feet wasn’t reaching its intended destination ‒ I was immobilized by panic. My heart raced, and I was sweating bullets.

A few moments passed, and I suddenly felt a tingling sensation all over my body as my vision took on a magenta tint. Before I could even brace myself for impact, I found myself being shoved forward by an intangible force. I stumbled forward several steps, pinwheeling my arms in a desperate attempt to regain my balance.

I ultimately failed near center stage: my right shoe stopped, but the rest of me didn’t. Somehow, I managed to summon up enough presence of mind to perform a judo-style breakfall, landing on my forearms and toes.

Some in the crowd had gasped in concern when I fell, but this turned into a smattering of polite applause as I pulled myself to my feet, undamaged.

I let out a slightly embarrassed huff. “I meant to do that,” I said, which earned a laugh from the audience. The theater was packed with ponies, to the point that many pegasi were hovering in place above the crowd.

As I looked over the audience, a microphone floated to me in a golden aura that matched the glow from Princess Celestia’s horn. If nothing else, the wingbeats of these pegasi might serve as a passable substitute for air conditioning, I thought as I plucked the microphone from the telekinetic field that had delivered it to me.

After a brief mic test, and briefly wincing at one instance of feedback, I picked up where I left off. “Well, I suppose if all else fails, I could do standup comedy. I’d call my first tour Pratfalls Across Equestria.”

Light, sympathetic laughter bubbled forth in response.

“Unfortunately,” I said in an attempt to get back on track, “I don’t have a prepared statement or anything like that to bore you with. I mean, I didn’t exactly expect to suddenly find myself on an alien world when I went to bed about eleven nights ago. If you’ll pardon the expression, I’m just going to have to wing it.”

I got a few polite chuckles from the assembled unicorns and earth ponies, and more than a few groans and facehoofs from the pegasi for that.

“Anyway, as you probably know, my name is Derren Knox, and I’m basically going to be your new neighbor. I’m a human who comes from a planet called Earth ‒ specifically, a country known to my people as the United States of America.” I was uncertain of what to say next, and looked to Princess Celestia for advice.

“I’ve already told them most of what we know about you,” she said.

“Oh,” I said lamely. “Well, umm, I can’t really think of too much else to add, so I guess we can move on the next order of business.”

The next order of business turned out to be a Q & A session. Two microphone stands had been set up in the aisles for ponies to line up behind. There were two important stipulations presented to the audience. The first was that no question would be off limits, unless I declined to answer. The other was that in order to help me assimilate into the community, each pony who wanted to ask a question had to introduce themselves first.

A trio of fillies ‒ a unicorn with a white coat and two-tone purple and pink mane and tail, an orange pegasus with a windblown purple mane and tail, and a yellow earth pony with a red mane decorated with an almost equally red bow ‒ had somehow managed to muscle their way to the front of the line to ask the first question. Their earnest excitement at getting to ask a question was almost diabetes-inducing in its adorableness.

“Wow, someone’s eager,” I quipped, garnering amused chuckles from the audience. “What are your names, girls?”

One of the ushers ‒ a gray unicorn stallion whose purple mane and tail were both cropped short ‒ seized the nearby audience mic in a green telekinetic field and moved it so that it was floating in front of the fillies.

The earth pony spoke first, in an accent similar to Applejack’s. “I’m Apple Bloom.”

The unicorn followed up next. “I’m Sweetie Belle.”

Finally, it was the pegasus’s turn. “And I’m Scootaloo.”

Just when I thought they were done with their little introduction, they turned the volume up to eleven.

“AND WE’RE THE CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS!” they shouted into the microphone, causing ear-piercing feedback that I was sure came close to shorting it out. They also managed to shatter some of the glass near the ceiling (which, thankfully, failed to hit anyone). If car alarms existed in Equestria, they probably would’ve set a few of them off, as well.

It took slightly longer to recover from the girls’ rather enthusiastic outburst than it did from Pinkie’s “hoofball referee” antics the week before. Once I was certain that I wasn’t about to go permanently deaf, I gave them a gentle smile.

Based on the trio’s (most likely self-given) nickname and flanks that were vacant of any magical tramp stamps, it was fairly easy to see where this line of questioning was going. Despite that, I didn’t have it in me to deny the earnest inquiries of innocent minds. I decided to bite.

“So, what’s your question, girls?”

The yellow filly, Apple Bloom, seemed to be the group’s spokesperson, as she took the microphone in hoof and squared her withers. “Do hoomins get cutie marks as well?”

A ripple of polite chuckles washed over the audience. I couldn’t help but join in on the chuckles and give a slightly amused shake of my head.

“No, I’m afraid that humans don’t get cutie marks. Unfortunately for some of us, Earth lacks the kind of magic that exists here in Equestria. We usually learn what we’re good at by trial and error.”

Belatedly, I recalled that Rarity had said that her sister was named Sweetie Belle. Could these three be the fillies that Rarity and Applejack mentioned with a mixture of sisterly love and aggravation? Simple curiosity dictated the next words out of my mouth.

“Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle ‒ I take it you two are the little sisters Rarity and Applejack have told me so much about?”

The two ponies ducked their heads and flattened their ears in a crestfallen expression as a blush stained their respective cheeks. Between that and a smattering of rueful smiles and rolled eyes in the audience, it was easy to see that not only were my suspicions about the fillies’ familial relations correct, but also that the trio had gained no small amount of notoriety in town for their antics.

Kids will be kids, no matter the world, I guess.

I favored them with a sympathetic smile. “I realize I’m new in town, and I’m probably the last person to go to for advice, since as I said, humans don’t get cutie marks. But if I could offer a suggestion, it would be this: think of maybe five or ten things that you love to do most ‒ things you have a passion for. Then, figure out which of those five or ten things you are really good at. I can’t guarantee that it will work, but it’ll probably at least put you on the right path to getting your cutie mark.”

The three fillies mulled my words over for a bit. “Worth a shot, I suppose,” Apple Bloom replied in a slightly deflated, yet determined tone. She turned around and began to walk back to her seat, her friends following close behind.

At the other microphone stand, a hot pink mare stood waiting for our attention to turn to her. Her honey blonde mane and tail cascaded down her body in curly waves, while her flank bore an image of a pair of ripe cherries.

When prompted, the mare introduced herself. “Um, yes. I’m Cherry Berry. I mostly run a small cherry orchard, but I also like to do some tinkering in my spare time. I was wondering if you’ve done any tinkering of your own, and if you have, what sort of gadgets you’ve created.”

I took a deep breath to think about it and ran my hand through my hair. On the one hand, a completely truthful answer would be a bit of a letdown, and on the other, it would be hypocritical of me to play Wow The Primitive Local With My Technological Wizardry ‒ especially after what happened at the Institute. I was going to have to thread a very thin needle if I wanted to answer her question adequately.

“Well,” I said, voice slightly trembling with hesitation and uncertainty, “I personally haven’t done any particular tinkering ‒ I’m not creative enough, unfortunately. However, I can tell you a little bit about what my species has managed to accomplish, if you wish.”

“Sure, why not?” she replied with a gentle smile.

I cleared my throat to buy a few more precious milliseconds with which to organize my thoughts. “While humans don’t have magic the way ponies do, one of our defining characteristics is an almost insatiable curiosity ‒ whether it’s figuring out how something works, or just finding out what’s over the next hill. Because of that curiosity, we’ve been able to compensate for our lack of magic with advanced technology that at times can almost seem magical. During the week I spent in Canterlot, I learned that you’ve started to use electricity to light up homes in larger cities like Manehatten. We’ve gone quite a bit further than that ‒ we’ve used it to create devices the size of a clipboard that can store every word written in the Canterlot Archives with room to spare, and to develop communications networks capable of letting you talk to someone on the other side of the world as if they were in the same room.”

I smiled slightly to myself as I unloaded the biggest bombshell. “We even sent people to the moon ‒ not as punishment, but out of that simple curiosity that drives much of what we do.”

Looking out over the crowd, I could tell from the sea of slack-jawed faces that I may have overdone it a little. It was time to dial things back a bit.

“But for all of our technological wizardry, I’ve seen ponies do things in the last week that would be either outright impossible, or horrendously infeasible back home. I guess some things are more easily done with magic, while others are more easily done with my world’s technology. When I look at the wonders your world has to offer, I can’t help but be struck with awe. And while my meager words and thoughts couldn’t do it justice, the things we could do if we combined the best of both worlds would stagger the minds of even the most imaginative.”

A moment of silence reigned before the rumbling of hundreds of sets of hooves stomping the floor rattled the theater like an earthquake. If this is what a standing ovation is like for ponies, I thought, then I did an adequate job with my answer.

At the microphone stand that Apple Bloom and her friends had occupied earlier, the next pony was already in position and waiting to ask me a question. The mare’s cream coat shone dully in the afternoon light pouring through the windows near the ceiling, highlighting her cutie mark ‒ a trio of wrapped candies. Her voluminous, curly mane and tail came in two colors: a deep blue that was within a few shades of Princess Luna’s coat, and a bright fuchsia. A flame-colored flower that was perched neatly in her mane near her right ear set off her ice blue eyes that looked at me expectantly.

A shaft of sunlight caught hold of the flower, causing it to glimmer like a warm flame, and for a moment, I thought that her mane had actually caught fire. She then stepped out of the sunbeam, showing that the flower was still there and that her mane was fully intact.

She also appeared to be somewhat apprehensive when I locked eyes with her. I attributed it to millions of years of prey instincts about not catching the attention of a predator, and shifted my gaze slightly to try to ease her mind.

“Yes? I believe you had a question, Miss…?”

“Bon Bon,” the mare replied. “And I was hoping you could tell us a little bit about your world.”

“My world, eh?” I parroted. She gave a hesitant nod, and I couldn’t help but crack a small grin. “Any particular reason? Not that I mind you asking ‒ just curious is all.”

“Oh, no particular reason,” Bon Bon replied, biting her lower lip and flattening her ears with a touch of nervousness. “Just curious is all.”

I chuckled and gave a rueful shake of my head at having my words thrown back at me. “Fair enough. Is there anything in particular you’d like to know? I mean, I could tell you that about seventy-one percent of the planet’s surface is covered by water, or that there are seven continents, but I get the feeling that you don’t want bland statistics.”

“Just everyday life would be fine.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose I could tell you about my life back home to give you some small idea of what it’s like to live on Earth.”

“That would be nice,” Bon Bon said with a shy smile.

“I had the fortune of being born in one of the richest, most powerful countries on the planet, so my experience may not be representative of the average human’s lifestyle. Even when times got a little hard, we never really went without. I grew up in one of the warmer parts of the country, so having snow every winter is a relatively new experience for me.” I received a few polite chuckles from the audience in response.

“I grew up in one of the smaller cities on Earth. If you included all the suburbs and outlying residential areas, it probably had a little over one million people.”

Gasps arose at that. “Wow,” Bon Bon replied, “That’s quite a lot. How many humans are there altogether?”

“At last count, about seven billion.”

It may be cliche, but one could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.

“As you might imagine,” I said in attempt to disperse the awkward atmosphere, “it can be pretty challenging to have that many people living together on one tiny mudball in the infinite void of space. I won’t lie to you: we’ve had more than our fair share of internecine conflict, much like the three pony tribes prior to Unification. But I still fervently believe that at the end of the day, all of us ‒ pony and human alike ‒ want the same thing: to have a little space for ourselves where we can safely raise a family; to have a good job that we love doing; and the freedom to pursue our own happiness ‒ however we define it.”

Again, the speech was received to thunderous applause. I looked back at Princess Celestia, and we locked eyes for a moment before she gave a satisfied nod.

The rest of the audience participation portion of the program proceeded in a similar fashion. Among the questions that stood out were one from a purple earth pony mare named Cheerilee, who introduced herself as the local school teacher and asked about education on Earth, and a respectful, but concerned inquiry from a caramel-colored, bespectacled unicorn stallion named Doctor Stable about whether or not the doctors in Canterlot had detected any diseases that I might have accidentally imported from Earth.

For Cheerilee, I gave a basic outline of what good old-fashioned American education was like, interspersed with a few amusing anecdotes. I didn’t have time to tell her all the crazy stories of my formative years, unfortunately, but she seemed more than happy to hear the ones that I did tell.

Doctor Stable’s question was a bit trickier to answer. At Celestia and Luna’s request, I couldn’t tell him every detail of my arrival, as only Faran and Silverclaw ‒ my physicians of record ‒ had the appropriate security clearances to know the full story. I kept my answer intentionally vague, saying that due to “special circumstances,” I could guarantee that nothing harmful had made it through the portal from Earth. Judging from his slightly sour expression, it seemed that he wasn’t fully satisfied with my answer, but with assurances from Princess Celestia that there wouldn’t be any sudden outbreaks of “monkey flu” ‒ my words, not hers ‒ he was willing to leave it at that.

The only other part of the question and answer session worth noting was a discussion about food ‒ specifically, my favorite foods. I listed off a few items, but when I got to quesadillas, a nervous-sounding whicker drew my attention offstage, and I caught a glimpse of Twilight shuddering and then trying to make herself as small as possible.

Only sparing a moment to give her a concerned look and a disbelieving shake of my head, I put Twilight’s unusual behavior out of my mind and focused once more on answering questions.

By the time the whole welcome ceremony was over, it was half-past two in the afternoon. Twilight and her friends came on stage for a few minutes to talk about what they would be doing to help me get settled, and Princess Celestia and the mayor gave a few closing remarks. The theater was rocked once more by a 0.4 magnitude quake ‒ by my rough estimation ‒ as the ponies once more broke into a standing ovation. Other than a brief photo op with the local newspaper, my official welcome to Equestria was finally over.

All that remained was the “unofficial welcome” in the form of the New Year’s Eve party in the evening.

Author's Notes:

There is one major thing I wanted to discuss about this chapter. You may have noticed Nurse Faran occasionally speaking in a foreign language. This is a conscious choice on my part: Faran is from Capallia, the pony version of Ireland. As such, she tends to revert to "Pony Gaelic" in certain stressful situations, which Derren has a habit of creating through no fault of his own (mostly ), which should become evident in future chapters.

I've resorted to using Google Translate (despite its limitations) to write Faran's "Capallian" dialogue, but if anyone who actually knows Gaelic (especially the Irish variety) and wants to help me improve my translations, feel free to send me a PM with suggestions.

That said, here were the English versions of the lines before and after they went through the sausage factory that is Google Translate:

1) "At least I got a reaction out of you." = “Ar a laghad Fuair mé imoibriú as duit.”
2) "Merciful Luna, you are an idiot sometimes." = “Trócaireach Luna, tá tú ar leathcheann uaireanta.”

One last thing. During early development of this chapter, Pusspuss and I were talking on Skype when I noticed that Derren's name rhymes with Faran's. Upon pointing it out, the two of us quickly developed the following little poem, which he dared me to put in the Author's Notes here:

Faran rhymes with Derren
And all the pussy he’ll be tearin’.
He’d better hope those pussies are barren,
Or it’s his foals they’ll be bearin’.
Talk about “sharin’ and carin’.”