“Research Log: Project Aurora. Private Log #27. Timestamp: Sunday, 9 February, year 2014, 4:39 PM. Location: Home Laboratory.

“Once again, I am met with mixed results from my mobile tracking unit. It is successful in bringing me to general locations, but then fails to pinpoint the specific source of the anomalous energy. I’m trying another iteration for this week’s tests. I just hope it is a better result than last week, which kept going off at seemingly random times in places where the energy, as far as my research has determined, isn't present…at least, not in amounts significant enough to detect.

“Overall though, the project is going well, despite some…setbacks and obstacles. I’m still keeping these logs separate and hidden away from the main body of research, since I can't shake the unpleasant sense that someone from Sunset’s past may be involved. It might all just be unreasonable paranoia, but Artemis and the upgraded Medusa Protocols make me feel better, at least.”

A heavy sigh echoes, along with the sound of fabric shifting.

“I also wish Sunset was my partner on this. I know she goes to a different school, and I know it's silly to feel this way since Wallflower’s my friend, but…I just don't feel like Wallflower would understand most of what I’m doing with this project.

“That's awful of me, I know. Despite whatever happened between her and Sunset to make them antagonistic to one another, Wallflower is my friend, and she means well…plus she was picked by Cinch, so she didn't have much choice…

“But I can't help but feel like my project and space are being infringed on now. Like, if asked, she’ll report everything I say and do to my principal…”

A scoff.

“Now I know I’m being ridiculous. Back to the experiments and project. The strange energy has shown fluctuations much more regularly, and the area affected seems to be growing, though slowly. Estimates show it is only by a few inches every couple of days, but that suggests that the energy is getting stronger. I've narrowed down a primary epicenter, plus at least three smaller locations—is it possible that these are the locations of the Large Events?”

“The first, and primary epicenter is located somewhere on the campus of Canterlot High School and Canterlot Junior High School—the combined campus and heavy woods surrounding one and a half sides of it make pinpointing the exact location difficult. Particularly as the staff and students of the school are not known to be friendly to Crystal Prep students showing up. I chalk that up to my school’s population having a long history of defacing their mascot statue over the last several decades.”

“The others, as much as my research indicates, as well as my use of simple cartography skills, indicates that one of the secondary locations is the local amphitheater—I have not returned to the site since my unnerving experience and panic attack—a stretch of farmland at least an hour’s walk from the furthest stop of the city bus-line, and somewhere in Everfree Forest Park, possibly where it backs up to the old quarry or the reservoir. Only the amphitheater is easily accessible to me, unless I can convince Wallflower or Sunset to drive me out to those other locations to take some readings…

“I’m not sure that will be possible in either case.”

“Research Log: Project Aurora. Log #72. Timestamp: Monday, 10 February, year 2014, 11:17 AM. Location: Crystal Prep Laboratory.”

A derisive snort comes from some distance from the microphone. “Why do you do it that way? It sounds kind of pretentious, Twilight.”

“Because it helps me keep things organized and in order. If I need to search for a specific entry later, I can find it quickly. Now where was I?

“Right. The newest iteration of my portable scanning device is finished, and intended to be tested tomorrow after school. Today, however, I wanted to go over some of the samples taken from several of the sites.”

“To begin with, I did my best analysis of the paint and carpet fibers from the music store. Aside from evidence of extended exposure to marijuana’s active compounds and possible traces of other illicit substances, nothing out of the ordinary turned up. The same goes for the samples taken from the car tires, the pawn shop, and outside that dress shop that seems to be an exclusive boutique of some kind…It has a ‘by appointment only’ sign at least, and I can't come up with a justifiable reason to go inside.”

“Why do you need some kind of reason? Just go in, and if some sales clerk asks, lie. None of their business anyway.”

“…because I would be entering their place of business…I would think that would make it exactly their business what I was doing there.” Fingers drum on the table. “It's a moot point anyway. The readings were faint, and none of the samples showed anything unusual. I’m more interested in running tests on the biological samples I managed to acquire from outside Canterlot High.”

“Yeah, those are definitely weird, Twilight.”

There’s a long moment of dead air, with the sound of a creaking chair. Then, “How do you know that?”

“I was looking at them earlier, while you were in your gym uniform, sweating to death under the watchful eye of the school’s most obnoxious soccer and field hockey player. After all, that part of the project is my grade now too, remember?”

“…yes. I do. But I had intended procedure to do the updated documentation on those samples, and—”

“And it wasn’t necessary. I did all that for you, not that anything had changed—which is part of the weirdness with whatever X-Files crap you've got going on here.”

“…could you clarify with more than that, Wallflower?”

“Okay…look, some of it is normal. You brought me samples of maple and oak and pine, but also things that look like leaves from vegetables and common fruit bushes.”

“Most of those should be labeled as having come from the greenhouse.”

“Yeah. But that's not what's making them weird. It's that even though these samples were picked…what, like two weeks ago? They're fresh. None of them have wilted or dried or become discolored. And let's not start on the fact that these are green oak leaves in February. I’d make a joke about global warming, but the news this weekend was talking about how it's been way too cold this winter, all over the northern half of the state.”

“And then there’s this sample. I have no idea what kind of plant this is. I can tell you what it looks similar to, but I’ve looked up every part of it in every book and horticulture website and reference guide I know of, and it's not listed. What can you tell me about the plant you cut these from?”

“It was hard to tell in the dark, but it was a row of bushes—or perhaps one bush? About four feet tall, give or take a few inches. The berries were what I smelled first. I thought it was a blackberry bush at first, until my light was on it. Then I realized the berries were all wrong for blackberries.”

“It’s definitely not a blackberry bush—blackberries don't grow on bushes. They grow by sending up long cane stems from a much longer lived root system...Not only are the berries not right, the leaves are the wrong shape.” Crinkling plastic. “The berries look more like Rubus caesius—that’s the European dewberry—but the color is wrong, as is the texture of them, and the leaves don't match. Everything in the samples suggests its something in the Rubus genus, but it doesn’t match any of them.”

“I’m still looking, but it could be a brand new hybrid species and those kids at Canterlot probably have no idea what they’ve got if it is!”

“Perhaps it is not a good idea to get too far ahead of ourselves, Wallflower. Isn't the blackberry part of a rather extensive family of berry producing plants all over the world?”

“Over thirteen hundre—ow! Shit! Mmmph!”

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“Clearly, I decided my thumb was lacking in the number of holes it possessed, so I used a thorn to add a new one.” The tone was dry. “It's fine. In fact, I barely—wait. That’s…”

“What?” The other voice sounded frantic.

“Those Canterlot nobodies really have no idea what this is worth…Twilight, my thumb is numb now. There's sap on this plant…if it made my skin go numb, this could have medical applications. Do you have any idea what a discovery like this could be worth to the right pharmaceutical company?” There was the sound of pen on paper. “We need to go to CHS, get some viable cuttings. If I could cultivate one of my own, I could submit my own findings and get credit for the discovery of a new species…”

A long, drawn out moment of fairly dead air ensues, the faint snippets of one voice mumbling to herself and the other painfully, pointedly silent.

“…probably don't even know where it came from…just smile dumbly and use the berries for some kind of baking recipe…have to…paper…write down all of it…come up with a name for it…Rubus erysi, I think, with the common name ‘Blushberry’ since people will know those better than anything else about them.

The muttering is finally broken by a ragged, agitated breath. “I think you are getting way ahead of yourself, Wallflower. First of all, you have completely compromised any of the data you are attempting to gather with those samples because you have compromised the protocols necessary to prevent contamination. Second, you have barely done any research—you have no idea if this is a new species, not yet, or if it is some known variant or documented hybrid. A forty five minute class period does not allow for thorough research. Thirdly, you are not even monitoring or treating your injury which has apparently been involved with some kind of foreign compound that caused numbness. It could be a toxin or something triggering an allergic reaction! While—”

SLAM!

“The only thing that matters is being the first to publish, Twilight. That's it. If I’m going to scoop this discovery before some public school idiot figures out what they’ve got, I have to work fast, and be willing to make sacrifices. It's all well and good for you, since you study just about anything—the chances of you finding some kind of physics law or space anomaly or inventing a new computer chip are good, but the wonderful world of botany isn't exactly crawling with brand new discoveries unless you're interested in sweating your ass off in some malaria-infested jungle a thousand miles from anything remotely civilized, hoping you aren’t about to be eaten by a jaguar. If avoiding that means risking an infected cut or meaning your OCD just has to deal with me not using all of the steps you want to use, then you can just learn to live with it. That's how academics works.”

“And seeing as how you barely know a chrysanthemum from a radish, you need me on your project to figure out the plants. That's why Cinch put me here as your assistant. You need my help. I don't need yours.”

Tension leaks across the recording, despite the several seconds where no one speaks.

“I was perfectly capable of doing my own research, and I did not ask for nor did I need an assistant.” The words are clipped, tight, and more than a little upset. “I am perfectly capable of recording my own logs, and looking up information—and at present, I seem to be more capable than the so-called assistant dumped on me without any thought to what I might have desired.”

“Oh yes, Perfect Princess Twilight Sparkle, the genius who is absolutely perfect at everything she does and never needs anyone because she's sooooo much smarter than the rest of us mere mortals.” A nasty noise. “Just forget it, Twilight. You can’t possibly understand what it's like to not be the brilliant prodigy who never has to actually work at anything.”

The sound of a chair shifting almost drowns out the next accusatory statement. “Are you actually recording all this?”

A pause. “I never stopped. You were the one who interrupted my audio notes.” A ragged breath. “I think we’re done here for the day, Wallflower.”

“Oh no, not yet…but this thing is certainly going off. I don't want to be part of your creepy recordings.”

“Don't touch tha—”

UNEXPECTED END OF FILE.

“Research Log: Project Aurora. Log #72.5, Supplemental. Timestamp: Monday, 10 February, year 2014, 4:23 PM. Location: Home Laboratory.

“Given the unprofessional nature of Log 72, I have felt it prudent to make an addendum to it from the solitude and safety of my home laboratory. There is a lot to go over, and I shall endeavor to avoid going off on emotional tangents. We’ve had enough of those for the day.

“First and foremost, while Wallflower’s knowledge of botany outclasses my own, I do not agree with her assessments on the unknown berry bearing plants I acquired samples from. In my discussions with Sunset, she has made allusions to the principal of her school having a horticultural hobby, and also implied that the woman in question donates funds, equipment, time, and specimens to the school’s greenhouse and green spaces. This principal, as far as I’m aware, is actually a member of a family that travels in the same circles as my father’s family, meaning she likely has the ability to cultivate foreign contacts and afford import fees of exotic plants.”

“And that's what I suspect the plants are: a foreign import of some unusual but well documented member of the same family as blackberries and raspberries. Because I recognized them when Wallflower inadvertently crushed one of the berry samples in her emotional outburst. The plants she was so quick to jump to naming after herself are just Sunset’s source of those fizzleberries she let me try during our observatory outing. Given what I know about Sunny, the plant is probably from the same place that her guardian is from, and all signs point to that being some small European province where English is the language of politics and business but little else. Since Wallflower isn’t fluent in any language but English, she wouldn't even think to look through any European botanical texts that aren’t written in English.

“I’m extremely put out with her for getting so caught up that she has thrown research out the window in favor of…I’m not even sure what to call it. Not only is she overlooking the likely truth, she completely ignored all procedures and protocols for studying samples from my project…without even talking to me first! I understand that she is meant to be my assistant on this, but that means she should be taking her cues from me, not using my samples to do her own project on the side. Because of her, I now have to go back to Canterlot High and other locations to collect more of the botanical samples. Granted, that will give me a chance to test the new iteration of my detector, but it's the principle of the matter.

“In a real working environment of science, actions like hers could compromise a study, and with it, any funding. She should know better! I should report it to Principal Cinch, but I don't want to make things even more unpleasant. At least Wallflower is my friend…for all she hasn't been acting like one today, and I’m not sure any student in the school that might replace her would be any better.

“I’m almost going to be glad when this project is done, because this is not what I thought it would be. My old independent study projects were completely different, and nowhere near this stressful.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Plastic is tapped against metal in a steady sound of agitation. At last, the voice breaks from the stiff, stilted, carefully cultivated control.

“I know I said I was going to leave emotions out of this, but I find myself needing to verbalize in order to move forward. The…disagreement…between Wallflower and myself has left me…more out of sorts than I first realized. Under normal conditions I would call Sunset…but I promised to allow her the space she needed this week, and breaking that in two days to vent to her about the very subject of our own fight is…”

The trailing sentence ends with a heavy sigh. “I suppose I could contact Dr. Soft-Spoken, but…that doesn't feel right either. I have an uncomfortable suspicion that if I did bring up what happened, I would have to provide context, context that, once given, will verge into a situation where she would strongly suggest we have a joint session with my parents.”

The voice is joined by the sound of receding and then approaching footsteps as it gets closer to and further from the microphone. Pacing, each direction a measured count, with just the same amount of time between each step.

“That would be a circumstance I wish to avoid at all costs. This year Mom has been particularly vocal about her desire for me to transfer to a different school, and in recent weeks, I’m getting the impression that Dad is starting to be swayed to her way of thinking, despite the excellent quality of academics at Crystal Prep—his own high school alma mater! The troubles around my project have only served to exacerbate the whole thing, and while I am not normally a fan of relying solely on ‘gut instinct’ without at least a little objective proof to provide clarity, something tells me that combining today with the hostility between Sunset and Wallflower, and my own…admittedly poor behavior…Friday…would be enough for my parents to enact Parental Override Protocols, consequences on my education be hanged, and take the decision to stay or leave Crystal Prep out of my hands entirely.

“Especially if Dr. Soft-Spoken backs them about it…and I already know she likes Sunset. She’s told me as much, commenting on her intelligence, maturity, and ‘sensitivity.’ I’m…not sure she’d approve of my actions last Friday, and I can't see her having the same kind of praise for Wallflower…even if she is my friend.”

A longer pause, while the sound of restless pacing continues.

“…Wallflower is my friend, right? She’s never acted like that before, and it was…” A shuddering breath. “I didn't like it. It felt all wrong, like this project is messing up our friendship, messing with Wallflower’s head. I know she’s always been a little classist talking about public school kids, but she’s never gone to a public school ever, and I always thought before it was her trying to be funny, because she always treated it like she was being sarcastic. Was…was I mistaken in my interpretation? Today she was…just mean. About the CHS kids, about me, about…well…everything.

“Is…is this because of the pressure at school? Or is this a part of Wallflower I’ve overlooked?”

The sound of movement stops, giving way to measured breathing, slow, deliberate, calming.

“Perhaps I did. Or perhaps this is a recent development. It might even be a response to recent changes…

“I am not so socially blind as to miss the changes that have occurred in myself in just six months—has it really only been that long? It feels longer. And I have changed, more than even Dr. Soft-Spoken or my parents are aware of. My developing relationship with Sunset has come with beneficial side effects that I’m still discovering. I feel so much happier most days, and it's been a long time since my anxiety levels were this low…these last few weeks notwithstanding. My therapist noted an increase in self confidence and even remarked on the emotional animation in my speech…perhaps another side effect is a greater awareness of others’…social flaws?”

“Or it could be that Wallflower’s behavior is new, and a direct response to the changes in me. I know from past experience that Wallflower does not handle abrupt change well—she’s almost worse than I am about it. I am able to rationalize the need for change and work on overcoming my initial, anxiety-borne reaction, but Wallflower shows little inclination to do the same. Rather, she does often exhibit surliness and becomes…more sarcastic and biting, and not necessarily just about the source of her upset…”

A rueful, tired chuckle is picked up on the audio. “I suppose if I ever wanted proof of my own change, that would be undeniable evidence. Exposure to Sunset has taught me to be more alert and observant to other people’s behaviors, to recognize certain reaction patterns and what they mean…

“I guess there had to be some benefits to spending time with Sunny besides what an amazing kisser she is…”

An awkward, throat clearing cough cuts off any further musing. “Anyway. Wallflower. Many things—the school environment, our friend group, myself—have changed since the beginning of the year, and her reacting with anger and upset, even to me or Sunset, is very likely just a result of her projecting her emotional reaction to the change around her that is out of her control.

“If that’s the case, then I suppose I can forgive her reaction, if not the initial actions. It also makes it easier to deal with—I can prepare and make allowances for this in my calculations and plans. It doesn't mean I’m not still upset with how today went, but…I think the best thing I can do for both of us and our friendship is buckle down and work as hard as I can on my research. The sooner the project is done, the sooner that pressure is removed from the equation.”

“With that in mind, I will combine a field test of the new tracker with replacing my samples tomorrow. I can then take them back and analyze them at home without…interference.”

Well.

Things aren't going well. No no no...

Not in the slightest.