President Crane sat in a dark room. There were lights above them, but it didn't fight off the gloom of the sequestered area. It was a secret meeting of some very bright and highly-secured people.

One of them took a slow breath. "We have been attacked. There were no casualties. There was no material damage, but this is possibly the most all-encompassing attack that America has ever faced in its history."

Crane nodded slowly, but did not look entirely convinced. "I'm not the media, let's keep the flowery imagery out of this. Lay it straight."

A different man set his hands smoothly on the desk, not a slap, just laying them there. "Mister President, Sirs; we have experienced a linguistic shift. Not the subtle use of new words by the next generation, but an all-encompassing exchange. All existing writing. All existing digital storage. Even recorded voices were swapped in an act of electronic vandalism I would not have thought possible. We are speaking an alien language, right now."

"Which one? (Not this one.)"

Another person thrust a finger forward. "There it is. That is our language, or was."

The room went quiet, the group trying to absorb what had been claimed. The feat they were proposing was beyond all reckoning.

President Crane turned one hand around, palm-side up. "What do we do about it? If everything, everything has been forced to a new language, even our own thoughts, what do we do about it?"

"I feel," spoke a man with a thick moustache. "--that we need to know how we were attacked and how to prevent it. Even if we were to assume this particular moment caused no immediate harm, the fact that it can be done should be terrifying. If that same force was applied in a different fashion, we could lose our country and never miss it."

"Magic," spoke the first man. "I detest the word, but our people haven't come up with a better name for it yet. Different species on this world have access to it in different ways. We can't be certain it's even the same force. Magic is a terrible word that only means mysterious. Putting that aside, there were a few notable cases of 'mysterious'."

The second looked across the table, eyes moving from one face to the next as he reached for a pen to fiddle with. "The first being the unicorns. Even among the local species, unicorns are considered the most magic. They are literally born with it."

The first raised a finger, his elbow on the table. "The language is called 'Ponish', as in pony. A coincidence? I'm not entirely willing to blindly accept that."

"I received a letter from them," noted Crane. With a near-silent click, a projector came live, showing Celestia's letter across one of the walls. Crane hadn't asked for it to be there.

The moustached man nodded towards it. "We reviewed it before it was allowed to hit your desk."

"Yes, well, she gives the impression of a friendly peer. A quick call to Queen Novo confirmed that it was Princess Celestia that forwarded the motion to get us invited. The instant I informed them, before, that what they were doing was wrong, they hurried me home with apologies. They don't come across as power hungry plotters."

The second walked his fingers across the table. "They come across as charming primitives with unknown powers that could have caused this, and could do it again. Then there's Queen Novo and the Seaquestrians. They have limited shapeshifting, but that hardly seems fitting the crime."

The moustached one pressed a remote he was subtly holding, conjuring an image of a yak. "They have no 'magic' aside of strength and durability. Primitive even by Equestrian standards, the likelihood of their involvement is negligible." With another click, a picture of a griffon appeared. Gilda, seated in an office and being interviewed. "Griffon. No magic, no government. Unless you count their ability to fly, which I'm told is improbable on its own. Likelihood: negligible."

Unicorns were becoming the most likely by far... "Let's focus instead on countering this. We need to be able to detect 'Magic'," argued Crane. "We need to know when it's happening, and how to counter it. Without that, we're helpless."

The first drove a finger against the table in a series of firm taps. "That I agree with. We need to catalog and analyze 'magic', and we can't just assume 'magic' is 'magic'. Whatever lets a Seaquestrian change may be entirely different forces than what a unicorn uses."

The second smiled a knowing smile. "I took the liberty of green-lighting a few applications for 'magic' would-be citizens that would have otherwise failed to pass muster. They are now living in America with little means... Open to being approached with a new position."

His meaning came across swiftly. Crane nodded quickly. "Make the offer. If we can get unicorns using magic in a controlled environment, we can figure this out."

The moustached one set the remote on the table. "Do you intend to attend that summit?"

"We either go--" Crane sat back in his chair. "--or we remain ignorant of how most of this world operates. That is a non-choice. I will be attending."

"You are a weather pony?" asked the man with a raised brow.

The pegasus mare bobbed her head. "One of the best, and I hear you don't have a single one. You need some! So lemme in."

The man shook his head. "Do you mean you predict the weather?"

"Predicting implies you aren't making it," argued the pegasus, spreading her wings. "I move clouds so it's sunny when we need sun, rainy when we need rain, and bad storms are chased away."

"I see..." He didn't entirely see. "And who paid you for this work?"

She tilted her head to the left then the right. "Oh, bits! I get some from the town I'm working for, usually. Ponies appreciate their weather being right." She raised a hoof to her cheek. "The ones that work in the weather factory get paid by them, but you don't have one of those, so that's out. Just point me to the town you want to get good weather and I'll be all over it."

Towns did not have budgets set aside for weather control, alas... "We have gotten used to just taking whatever weather happens our way."

"What, seriously? Why?!" She bounced on her hooves. "Oh right, because you had no weather ponies. Well, stop spending money dealing with bad weather and just stop the bad weather in the first place. I'll be saving you loads of bits."

"Dollars," corrected the man as he typed something on his computer. "I'll put out the feelers, but it's out of my job scope to petition cities and towns for this."

"So let me in so I can go ask them myself," she argued. "If it doesn't work out, I still have these." She spread her wings. "I can fly back to Equestria if I have to. It's kinda far, but I know how to glide pretty good over the water."

Mobile Coral sat in the sun on a bench, enjoying the warm rays and the sound of the lapping waves not far away, across the sand. She wasn't swimming at that moment, just relaxing. Her child was held by her legs, and her talons were folded on the bench as she lazily enjoyed the day.

"Oh god," muttered a passing person, hurrying along.

But another just kind of stared at her. Mobile didn't get it. She had become less fat, but other than that, she was a perfectly standard hippogriff. "Is something wrong?" she asked the man staring at her. "Bad mane day?"

"You... uh..." He seemed to be struggling to put it into words. "What even is that, and what is it doing?"

She looked where he was indicating. There was her child, nursing at her belly. As infant activities went, fairly standard, she quickly decided. "That is my sweet little baby girl. Her name is Swift Swim."

"Oh, uh..." He wandered away, looking slightly less confused, but still baffled.

Tim returned with two big cones of ice cream. He spotted his wife casually feeding their child. "Hey! I thought you used bottles?"

Mobile sat up, her eyes on the cones. She transferred the infant up to her talons, cradling Swift carefully. "I read that nursing helps a child and their mother bond, so I didn't want to mess that up. Did they have rocky road?"

"Here you go." He passed her the desired flavor. "Still, uh... maybe don't do that in public? Some people get weird about it. You can make a bottle whenever you want, right?"

"So long as I have a bottle, sure." She shrugged. "Welcome to motherhood, when milk's always on the house." She shifted her grip on Swift so she could get at the ice cream, making happy noises. "But not ice cream, perfect..."

Sea Flower, proud mare that she was, stood on the deck of her ship as it sailed towards America. She had passengers to drop off and pick up. She had goods to swap hooves. She had bits to make! Business had been good to her.

What was that other ship? She drew out a spyglass and put it up to an eye, peering out far over the waters at another ship sailing in the other direction. It was made of metal. A human boat. She could vaguely pick out humans on it, which made sense.

The humans were sailing, that was nice.

Wait, no. "Dangit!" The humans were sailing. She would be competed with, by humans, with their fancy ships. "No!" She threw down her spyglass and it bounced away. "No No no noooo!"

A pegasus stallion landed next to her. "What's wrong, Captain? Did I miss something?"

Sea pointed out at the tiny ship in the distance. "That! The humans are moving. They're going to start sailing with those big powered boats of theirs. They'll blow us out of the water."

His wings spread rapidly. "I thought we were friends!"

"Not literally." She smirked softly at that misunderstanding. "I mean, you know, money wise. They'll be faster and better than this." She tapped the wooden deck they were sailing on. "I couldn't even dream of buying a human boat. They're way more expensive..."

"Is something wrong?" Her human crew member had arrived, her little engineer. "I heard you shouting."

Sea smiled at seeing him. He usually made her relax, and he was a smart cookie. "I have a problem that I want you to apply cold hard logic to and present possible solutions."

"You got it." He sat down on a coil of rope, facing her. "What are the parameters?"

"One, human ships are moving again."

"Uh huh."

"Two, they're faster and bigger than my boat."

"Uh huh."

"Three, they're going to run us over in the shipping and transportation businesses in no time flat!" Sea's wings popped out, frustration forcing them into motion as she huffed in place.

"Uh huh..." He tapped a foot on the deck as he seemed to consider it. "Getting this boat to match their speed is not practical. You can't offer that as a product anymore, so forget it."

"Forget it? Giving up is not the answer I'm looking for!" She leaned towards him, a snarl in her throat.

"I didn't say give up, just pivot." He gestured to the sails, then the wooden rail. "You can't offer speed, but you can offer relaxed. Pony ships are, by nature, more relaxed places than human ships. Even the ponies working have that atmosphere. I'm saying scrap moving cargo and people by speed, instead by comfort. Become a destination and people will see this same ship as charmingly novel and antiquated, instead of inefficient. If people are allowed to leave the mainland more easily, a luxury trip aboard an actual pony ship to tour the pony lands? It sells itself."

She tapped her hooves, working through all four hooves slowly. "You... are a damn genius monkey. When we unload, I want you to work with the others to start retrofitting. We sail back filled with smiling faces and a lot less cargo." She lifted into the air and touched her nose to his cheek for only the briefest moment before she darted away on skilled wings.

Author's Notes:

Sea Flower reconsiders how to make her bits in an evolving market.

Crane and SHADOWY OFFICIALS deal with the theft of English.

And, most importantly, Mobile Coral enjoys some ice cream, yum!

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