Meg hovered, unable to make up her mind. A few hundred feet below, Trixie trudged on, pulling her wagon ever closer to Ponyville. Meg didn’t have to do anything, and if the Great and Powerful Trixie was anything like her cartoon counterpart—and so far every pony had been—she was best avoided.

But if her presence was in response to Twilight’s message, it was only a matter of time before she got dragged into it. Besides, hadn’t that whole Alicorn Amulet incident been a wakeup call for her? Obviously, since she came, there wasn’t any more bad blood between her and Twilight.

What tipped the balance was Trixie’s attire—or more precisely, her lack of it. She was not wearing her cape or hat. Didn’t she always wear that? Meg couldn’t remember, but it seemed… out of character?

“I just know I’m going to regret this,” she muttered as she began her descent. If nothing else, she could make sure Trixie didn’t arrive at the castle, if that was her destination, while Celestia was still there.

For the first time, Meg was getting a good look at the wagon. Bits of paint had flaked off. Some planks of wood had begun to warp. The wheels creaked on their axles. It wasn’t particularly large; if she kept all her props and personal possessions in there, there wasn’t much room for living space.

As for Trixie herself… Her coat was matted and dirty, her mane needed a good brushing, and her scent was definitely on the physical workout side. Did she pull that thing all the way from Las Pegasus? No, no way she could have gotten here this soon if she had.

No sooner was she flying beside her that Trixie gave her a sour look. “I don’t suppose you want an autograph,” she flatly stated.

“Uh, no.” It was hard not to sympathize, not after seeing the hardship of her life. “Are you here in response to the message you received from Twilight?”

The show mare slacked off, and the wagon ground to a halt. “I don’t suppose you know anything about this ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ opportunity she mentioned? It was rather vague.”

Meg could make a good guess, but decided it was better to play it safe. “I’m not privy to the contents of that message, but I do know she was hoping you’d come. Were you going to see her right now?”

“As soon as I can get this wagon to her castle,” Trixie said, and with a grunt she resumed her slow forward progress. “Is that a problem?”

“I… wouldn’t think so,” Meg said, “but I’ll fly ahead and tell her you’ll be there soon.”

“Also tell her I expect compensation for this little visit, regardless. I had a nice gig going for me in Las Pegasus.”

“Ah, sure, I can do that.” This visit was easily lost income she could ill afford. Something else caught her attention. “Don’t you always refer to yourself in the third person?”

Trixie groaned, shaking her head. “It’s a stage persona, for Celestia’s sake. An act.”

Meg grimaced. “Sorry. I should’ve known better.”

The unicorn truly looked at her for the first time. “I don’t recall you being one of Twilight’s inner circle of friends.”

“I’m more of an advisor than a friend, and I wasn’t around then.”

Trixie looked ahead once more. “You might as well be on your way, if you wish to arrive at the castle first.”

The conversation was apparently over. “Uh, I guess I’ll be seeing you later.” Meg picked up speed and climbed.

On the flight back to the castle, Meg wondered how much of Trixie’s questionable decisions were due to character flaws, and how much were due to simple desperation. Perhaps, just possibly, there really was nothing wrong with her that a lucky break wouldn’t cure.

A few minutes later, still undecided as to which it was, she re-entered Twilight’s residence within her castle. Celestia was still there. “Is everything alright?” she asked. “You were gone for quite a while.”

Maybe too long, in hindsight. “Susie’s fine. But I saw Trixie approaching and I talked to her for a bit. She got your message, Twilight, and she’s just outside of town. And, uh, she requests compensation for the income she lost by leaving Las Pegasus.”

Twilight frowned. “Given how Rainbow Dash described the current state of her wagon, I guess I can see her point.”

“It does look rundown,” Meg confirmed. “And Trixie herself could use a trip to the spa. She must’ve been pulling that wagon all day.”

Twilight nodded. “That pony needs a lucky break, and I hope we can provide her with one. How long do you think it’ll take her to get here?”

“She’s not moving fast. I guess it also depends on what she encounters in town. Are there still bad feelings from her, uh, previous performances?”

Twilight got up. “It’d be best if I went to her. I think we’re about done here?”

“I’d say so, and I should be returning to Canterlot.” The hint of a frown ever so slightly graced Celestia’s face. “The griffon ambassador, you know. I’m doing my best to keep him out of your mane.”

“And I appreciate that,” Twilight said. “Believe me.”

“And I should free Susie from Dash’s training regimen and take her into town.”

Satisfied the meeting was over, Twilight called out to her number one assistant. “Spike? Make sure a guest room is ready. Trixie Lulamoon is not sleeping in her wagon tonight.”

The baby dragon appeared at the railing upstairs. “You can count on me!”

“I know I can, Spike,” Twilight said with a gentle smile. “And we’re about to show Trixie what the Magic of Friendship can accomplish!” She vanished in a flash of teleportation.

Celestia teleported away next, to Meg’s relief. She’d been half-afraid she’d stay behind just a bit longer, to uncover what was really bothering her; Celestia was too perceptive. Or, she glumly considered, maybe she already knew and was content to let events play out as they would, because that was how time loops worked.

I hate time travel.

Spike was out of sight. She lifted herself above the upstairs railings and found him reading a comic book. “Shouldn’t you be making a guest room ready or something?”

“Nah, one’s already ready,” he said, not looking up. “Twilight doesn’t pay much attention to such things.”

“Oh.” She descended back to the floor, left the residence, and made her way outside to the main balcony.

Once there, she looked in vain for Susie. “Damn it, Dash.” Neither of them were there; the cloud was gone too.

Well, they wouldn’t have gone far. Meg scanned the skies. They weren’t over Ponyville. Clouds were being assembled above the farms to the north. They were too far away to make out anypony, but it seemed like her best bet. She launched into the sky.

Please, please, please be there…

With growing urgency, she flew faster and faster towards those clouds. Once above them, she scanned the area and… nope.

She flew over to the nearest worker, who was pushing a cloud fragment into place. “Have you seen Rainbow Dash in the last half-hour or so?” she asked him.

“Nope,” he said, barely looking up. “She’s not on assignment today.”

Where are you? “Okay. Thanks.”

Meg climbed some more and scanned all around her. Nothing. They could be anywhere—except up here.

She descended back to the ground. There wasn’t much point running herself ragged trying to find them. They’d turn up in due course. It’s just that she didn’t need this aggravation right now.

A gingerbread building approached. She knew just what she needed to melt away the stress. After touching down, she went inside and made a beeline for the counter.

Pinkie Pie looked her over with mock seriousness and rendered her diagnosis. “This calls for a cinnamon and daisy swirl vanilla shake.”

“I don’t suppose your Pinkie Sense can tell me where Susie is right now?”

The mare brightened instantly. “You mean the new pegasus filly in town with a sea-green mane and an ocean-blue coat?”

Meg gaped at her. “Seriously. How do you do that?”

“That’s easy, silly! I just keep my eyes open!”

“Huh?”

Pinkie leaned in and with a stage whisper said, “Over there…”

Meg followed the pink hoof… and saw them. Rainbow Dash and Susie were seated at a table, giggling at some joke. A joke she was evidently the butt of. Did they just prank me?

A clunk of glass on counter brought her attention back to Pinkie. She winked at Meg. “On the house.”

“This really isn’t a good day to prank me.”

“Those are often the best days to do it!” she chirped.

It wasn’t worth arguing over. Meg took the shake and joined the others. Taking a seat, she glared at Rainbow Dash. “Took you a whole year to get around to pranking me?”

“What can I say?” she said around barely controlled laughter. “Took a while to find a good one for you.”

Meg continued glaring.

“Oh, lighten up. If I had my way, you’d’ve been exposed to poison joke months ago.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Hey, it’s not that bad, really. It’s easy enough to cure.” Dash gulped down some apple juice. “Besides, aren’t you curious what sort of joke they’d pull on you?”

“It’s not on my bucket list, no.” It already felt like the universe—universes?—were playing a cosmic joke on her. Meg slurped up through a straw some of that wonderful concoction.

Susie had been ignoring the adults, entirely focused on her cupcake. It did indeed have flowers—petals from two different flowers, no less. On top were daffodils glazed with caramel, and daisies on the inside. Meg couldn’t help noticing that she used her hooves to hold the plate in place as she took a bite out of the cupcake. Luckily there was nopony else around to see that and wonder.

“So?” Meg asked her niece. “How’re the flowers?”

“Awesome.” She took another bite out of it.

Enjoy it while it lasts. “Did you fly all the way here?” That seemed unlikely, especially after what for her must have been an exhausting training session.

“Rainbow Dash gave me a ride,” her niece said, lighting up. “It was even awesomer.”

“You got that right, squirt.”

Meg gave the fastest pegasus in Equestria the stink eye. “Do I even want to know?”

Dash gave her a smirk in return. “I got her here in one piece, didn’t I?”

Susie giggled.

Whatever. It was days like this that made Meg wonder, as she slurped up that impossibly wonderful shake, if her brother might have had a point. Maybe Susie would have been safer with those kidnappers.

Rainbow Dash was looking out the window. “Trixie’s back in town?”

Meg jerked her head to see for herself. There she was, accompanied by Twilight, and they were heading straight for Sugarcube Corner. “I wonder if there’s a back exit to this place,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on, she’s not that bad.” Dash gave her a smirk. “Don’cha wanna meet another background pony?”

“Antagonist is more like it,” Meg said. “Besides, I already had a brief conversation with her, right after I left you and Susie at the castle.” She looked out the window again. “I wonder where her wagon is?”

“Probably back in Las Pegasus. Doubt that ratty old thing would survive a trip here.”

“Guess again. She was pulling it into town when I saw her.”

“Huh. Well, I guess she finally got Twilight’s message.”

“Can I see her show?” Susie asked.

The filly was looking at Meg with pleading eyes. “Uh, that’s not why she’s here, Susie. See how she’s not wearing her cape or hat? You shouldn’t bother her once she’s inside.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash said, “I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for another Ponyville performance.”

“Oh. Okay.” The filly returned her attention to her cupcake.

Meg kept her eyes on them, hoping they’d ignore her and her niece. It wasn’t as if Twilight knew she was there, after all. She was just treating Trixie to a snack. Maybe they’d fail to notice her, just like she hadn’t noticed Dash and Susie.

The two mares came inside.

“Hey, Pinkie,” Twilight said. “I’ll have a single scoop of vanilla on a cone. I’m paying for both of us; put it on my tab.”

“And what’ll you have?” Pinkie asked Trixie.

The unicorn scanned a display case. “I think I’ll have that,” she said, pointing at slice of cake.

“That’s four and a half bits,” Pinkie said. “Consider it tabbed.” She plated the cake slice and placed it on the counter. She next scoped up vanilla ice cream, deposited it in a cone, and presented it to Twilight, who took it with her magic.

“Inside or outside?” Twilight asked Trixie.

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

Twilight did a quick scan of the tables inside and… “Ah. Perfect.”

Meg did her best to hide her dismay. The two were heading straight for their table. “Remember,” she quietly said to Susie, “don’t bother Trixie.” Twilight bore her usual smile, while Trixie’s smile… “Better yet, don’t say anything.”

The table wasn’t big enough for two additional ponies. Twilight moved a nearby table closer. “I believe you’ve already met Meg,” she said as the two mares took their seats. “She’ll be your liaison to the human realm and help you organize a tour.”

Yep, this is happening.

Susie went wide-eyed. “You’re gonna do shows on Earth?” She turned to her aunt. “Can I go to one… please?”

Meg cringed.

“Let me guess,” Trixie said. “Your daughter is really a human, too?”

“My niece, actually.” There was no point trying to hide it. Obviously Twilight had told Trixie her true nature.

“If only the fillies and colts of this realm were so eager to see me perform.” She dug into her cake with a fork. “I guess you weren’t pulling my leg after all.”

Twilight looked at Trixie with unease. “By the way, not all magic works in that realm.”

The fork froze in show mare’s mouth. “What?”

“A lot of magic does work,” Twilight quickly added, “and it might not affect your magic at all, but you do need to do a trial run of anything you wish to perform, just to make sure there won’t be any problems.”

Trixie sighed. “Well, it is what it is. And there are truly human magicians who perform so-called ‘magic tricks,’ despite having literally no magic of their own?”

“That’s correct,” Meg said, figuring she might as well join the conversation. “It’s all illusion, of course. Sleight-of-hand, misdirection, that sort of stuff. It just looks like magic, and it’s impressive precisely because the audience knows magic isn’t real.”

“But I do have real magic. Isn’t that, I dunno, unfair? Would it be considered deceptive, even cheating? I don’t need to be run out of an entire realm.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Meg assured her. “They’ll know that as a unicorn you possess real magic.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Twilight added. “They’ll be there to see you, to see your illusion magic.”

“Right,” Trixie said, looking at Susie. “They already know who I am. Somehow.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.” Twilight contemplated her half-eaten ice cream cone. “Once you’re there, in their realm, it’s inevitable you’ll discover how. Just… be prepared to keep an open mind when you do.”

“And keep my mouth shut when I return to Equestria? Is that the real reason for all the secrecy?”

“Believe me,” Rainbow Dash said, “you’ll understand once you know.”

“Not everything has to be kept secret. Once you return from your first show, we can go over the details.”

“Fine, fine,” Trixie grumbled. “I know how to keep a secret; it goes with being a magician.” She gave Susie a surprisingly warm smile. “How would you like to attend my rehearsal?”

The filly gasped. “Can I?!”

“That’s up to your parents,” Meg said, “but I don’t see why not.”

“They’re invited, too.” Trixie turned back to Twilight. “What about my wagon? You can bring it to that other realm, right? It’s part of my show.”

“No problem,” Twilight said. “And once Big Mac is done with it, it’ll be as good as new!”

Trixie finished off her cake slice. “You’ve certainly made it worth my while to leave Las Pegasus, I’ll give you that.” She stood up. “Now let’s see what magic—Rarity, wasn’t it?—can do with my cape.”

Twilight got up as well. “We’ll take care of… stuff before I fetch your parents,” she told Meg and Susie. “I’ll see you at Sweet Apple Acres later.” She started walking. “Come on, Trixie. Let’s go see Rarity.”

Meg waited until they left the premises. “I have to admit she’s more… sympathetic than I’d expected,” she told Rainbow Dash. “She seems to have had a hard life.”

“I guess,” Dash said, shrugging. “Not sure that excuses some of the bad choices she’s made. We could’ve done without that whole Alicorn Amulet thing.”

“Right. That.” Meg gave some attention to her neglected shake. “Well, it’ll be interesting to see what happens. She could certainly attract some big audiences in my world. It might do her some good.”

“I think that’s what Twilight has in mind.”

“What do we do next?” Susie asked, having finished eating her cupcake.

They still had a few hours to kill. Meg wished the day would be over already.

Steve wrote an equation on the blackboard:

R_{\mu \nu} - {1 \over 2}g_{\mu \nu}\,R + g_{\mu \nu} \Lambda = {8 \pi G \over c^4} T_{\mu \nu}

“The left side of this equation,” Steve said, tapping it with a finger, “is a tensor representing the curvature of space-time. The right side—” he tapped that in turn “—is the energy-momentum tensor.” He tapped the equals sign between them. “They are equal. Matter and energy cause space-time to curve, and the paths through curved space-time cause matter to change speed and direction. This is the underlying mechanism of gravity.”

Steve paused for the inevitable questions, his eyes scanning the mostly empty room. Out of the thirty or so who attended the first lecture, only seven were now present.

He didn’t have to wait long. The one remaining elder professor in attendance, Arcane Scroll, spoke. “It was hypothesized by Star Swirl the Bearded that telekinesis was a form of magical gravity. It is certainly the case that telekinesis acts equally on all parts of the affected object. Somepony who is unskillfully lifted off the ground experiences a feeling akin to falling freely. Would this equation apply to this as well?”

Steve put down the chalk. “I… doubt it. From what I’ve seen, telekinesis violates conservation of momentum; there is no equal and opposite force. Gravity doesn’t do that.” It wasn’t clear how telekinesis worked in this universe, but he had some theories. “Conservation of momentum implies that the laws of physics are everywhere the same. Magic can locally change those laws—in this realm, anyway—and that must be how telekinesis works.”

Arcane Scroll took a moment to digest that. “I’ve read the princess’ report on the limitations of magic in your realm.” He paused for effect. “Telekinesis appears to be unaffected. And yet, the conservation laws are inviolate in your realm.”

“Indeed, they are quite inviolate,” Steve said. “I’ll… have to get back to you on that.”

The elder professor bore a trace of a smug smile at his apparent victory. Steve could have explained how he sensed the gravitational waves that were that equal and opposite force—and sensed them only in his own universe—but he wasn’t supposed to let on that he was a part time unicorn.

Steve often wished that the old geezer was one of the ones who had stopped coming.

“Anyway, getting back to the field equation… A consequence of this equation is that space itself must either contract or expand, depending on the average density of mass and energy. That was considered an absurdity.” Steve once again tapped the left side, but this time on the term g_{\mu \nu} \Lambda. “This term here, called the ‘cosmological constant,’ was introduced to counter that, to describe a realm that eternally remains unchanging in size.

“At first, it turned out to be a huge mistake. It was later discovered that our universe was, in fact, expanding, would expand forever, and as a result this constant was dropped from the equation. More recently, it was discovered that the expansion was actually accelerating, when gravity was expected to gradually slow it down, if not completely stop it. The cosmological constant has thus made a comeback, ironically as a possible explanation for this acceleration.”

“It is a fact that our realm neither expands nor contracts,” Arcane Scroll declared. “Can you explain this?”

He waited for his answer.

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s not impossible, but it does require that the average density of this realm be at precisely the right value. Even the tiniest deviation would—”

“Quite sure.”

“Uh… okay then. Interesting.” He turned back to the field equation, as if hoping to find the answer there. “After all, even quantum vacuum fluctuations would tip it one way or the other eventually—not to mention the non-stop magical violations of conservation of energy…”

The professor rolled his eyes.

As annoying as his objections were, Steve had to admit he wasn’t pulling them out of thin air. Unquestionably some things were different about Equestria’s realm, and he would do well to remember that. “Maybe magic has something to do with it?” Steve offered.

“That would be a reasonable assumption,” he conceded, “though to be fair we had never sought a magical explanation. We had no reason to look for one, nor for any other kind of explanation, as we were unaware a stable size was a problem—assuming this equation is applicable to our realm.”

And, also to be fair, it was refreshing that this pillar of the establishment was willing to acknowledge their own potential shortcomings.

An amber unicorn had entered at the back of the lecture hall. It was time to wrap up this session. “Well, to answer that, we’ll have to examine the assumptions that led to its development and see if they’re still valid in this realm. Special Relativity only considered inertial frames of reference—that is, frames moving at unchanging velocities.

“General Relativity extended that to include accelerating frames of reference and, in particular, frames in a gravitational field. It assumes there’s no difference between standing on the ground, feeling weight from gravity, and being accelerated by an equivalent force in a rocket out in space; and therefore, a free falling object in a gravitational field must be in an unaccelerated, inertial frame of reference, just like an object floating in space far from anything else. If those assumptions are valid in this realm, the rest of the math still follows.”

“But only if this Special Relativity is also valid in our realm, which remains to be seen.”

The experiments suggested earlier had yet to be performed. “I’m sure the princess will find time to acquire the necessary resources and help carry out the experiments. She’s been quite busy recently—from what I’ve heard.”

“Indeed.”

Steve glanced up at Sunset Shimmer. “But we’re out of time for today. Next week, I’ll go into the effects of a gravitational field.”

The elderly professor sluggishly got up to his hooves and made his way up to the exit, following the younger attendees. Sunset Shimmer went past them on her way down, to join Steve at the podium.

“Are you aware of this?” Steve asked her. “That your realm has an unchanging size?”

“Star Swirl devised a spell that measures the size of our realm—”

“Of course it was Star Swirl.”

“Well, he is a legend for a reason. Anyway, that spell is cast about once a decade—it’s not an easy spell to cast—and the answer is always the same, within the margin of error.”

“So how large is this realm?”

Sunset gave an embarrassed smile. “Uh… we don’t actually know. We just know it hasn’t changed. We don’t know how to interpret the results of the spell as measurements of distance or volume.”

Steve sighed. “Well, it can’t be too large, not unless that spell can travel to the ends of the realm faster than the speed of light, and I rather doubt that. If it were possible to cast it in my universe, it’d take many billions of years—at best—for it to yield an answer.” He shrugged. “Arguably, it would never reach the far end due to eternal expansion.”

She tilted her head in thought. “I don’t know how long it takes, but it’s a difficult spell to cast for a reason. A unicorn must continuously cast it until it fills the entire realm. While that doesn’t take years, it certainly doesn’t take seconds either—on the order of hours, I think. It’s quite exhausting.”

“Huh. That would make this realm, at most, about the size of our solar system—assuming ‘speed of light’ yada yada yada. I guess that’s my fun fact for the day. I don’t suppose there’s been any research into the hypothetical magic that keeps the size stable?”

“Arcane Scroll’s right, so far as I know. Nopony had ever suspected there was a need for any.”

“Right.” He rubbed his eyes. “Hard to imagine such convenient magic would spontaneously come into being when this realm began, though it’d pretty much have to unless I’m really wrong about the physics of this place.”

He threw up his hands. “Enough unsolvable mysteries for one day. I’m ready to go home.”

Susie trotted a circle around Trixie’s wagon, looking without success for any opening.

“Ain’t nothing in there to see, sugarcube.”

“Eenope.”

“I’m guessing all her possessions are at the castle?” Meg asked.

“Eeyup.”

Curiosity satisfied, Meg left the barn to scan the skies. Come on, Twilight. The sooner Susie was restored to her proper form, the sooner she could put this day behind her.

Applejack had joined her outside. “She’ll be here soon enough, I reckon.”

No sooner had she said that, a lavender dot appeared in the distance and began to grow. It slowly resolved into an alicorn. Moments later, Twilight touched down.

“Susie’s in the barn,” Meg said.

Twilight started trotting in that direction. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

Susie was hovering at an open window, peering inside the wagon. Big Mac must have opened it for her. Meg guessed it didn’t really matter, if it had been emptied of everything. “It’s time, Susie.”

The filly rotated in place to face them. “Do I have to?” she whined. “Why can’t I be like you? A pony here and a human back home?”

I really really don’t need this crap right now. “We’ve been over this already. It’s time for your parents to visit you, so yes you have to.”

Twilight went over to the wagon. “Don’t make this harder for me, Susie. Please land.”

Susie didn’t budge.

“Do you want to fall after I change you back?”

She looked down at the ground, grimacing. “No…”

“Then please land.”

Susie looked at the ground for a bit longer, then descended. “Bye bye, wings.”

Twilight cast the spell, and a human child once more stood before them. Her magic engulfed Susie for a few seconds more. “As Celestia predicted,” she declared, “the chaos magic is gone.”

“Look at the bright side,” Meg said. “You have hands again.”

The little girl brought her hands up to her face and wiggled her fingers. She didn’t look completely convinced.

Twilight vanished after swallowing a plaid pill. Meg gave Susie a stern look. “Remember, not a word about being a pony.”

Susie silently nodded.

Twilight returned with Matt and Lori. “Still in one piece, I see,” Matt said, only a bit facetiously.

“Here’s your school work,” Lori said, holding out a book and some handouts to her daughter, who showed little inclination to use her newly restored hands. “I’ll just put them here for now.” She placed them on a bale of hay.

While the familial union was going on, Meg went over to Twilight. “I’m ready to go home,” she quietly said.

Twilight began leaving the barn, inviting Meg to join her. “About that… I’d like to bring Trixie along, just for a few minutes. I want a quick test of her magic in your realm.”

Meg wanted to say no; all it would do is drag out this day that much longer. She sighed. “Just for a very few minutes.”

Trixie looked around the room, taking in the not-designed-for-ponies furnishings. Then her eyes encountered Meg. “So that’s what you really look like,” she said. “A hideously deformed minotaur.”

It was stated as a simple fact, not an insult, and perhaps it was even true from a certain point of view. The day had been way too long for Meg to care. “Yep, get used to it.” She sat down in front of her computer. “Let’s get the magic test over with.” So this day can end.

Steve called out from the living room. “Meg? You need to see this. Twilight too, if she’s still there.”

“Now what?” she muttered as she got up.

“I guess it’ll have to wait a few minutes,” Twilight said to Trixie.

The two ponies followed Meg into the living room. A CNN Breaking News graphic was frozen on the TV. “I recorded it on the DVR,” Steve said.

The video resumed. “Could there be humans imprisoned in Tartarus? CNN has learned that at least one, possibly more, are in the custody of Equestria—with the approval of the Serrell Administration. Here to discuss the implications is Senator Clarence Routledge of the Senate Judiciary Committee.”

The day just got longer.