I'm not in the mood to write, but my assistant tells me I have to for the sake of perseverance or something like that.

That is a good place to start I suppose: I have now been granted a new assistant. During our first year here, Overcast had been very helpful in handling some of the legwork required by my position, but it seems that when Celestia received my letter, she got a brilliant idea. She has sent one of her students from the Academy for Gifted and Talented Unicorns here to Songring for an internship as my PA. Her name is Dawnstar, and I don't know how I feel about her just yet. I'll try to think of a way to describe why my feelings toward her are mixed.

I remember waking up that morning with the peculiar sense that something was amiss. Mostly because my clothes were not on the end of the bed in a lump of cloth like I had left them the night before, but were instead neatly pressed and suspended from a coat hanger on the railing of the stairwell. Donning my now clean outfit, I went down to the second floor to investigate and found that there was already a small breakfast (bread and water with a few dried apple slices) laid out for me on the table. On the ground level I found an envelope containing the short bios of 18 new individuals. The handwriting did not look like Overcast's, and I had never known him to have enough initiative to take such a task as interviewing new arrivals into his own hands, so I sat down to begin reading curiously. Halfway through browsing the pages, I was interrupted by a feminine voice chiming from the doorway.

"Good morning, Mr. Prodder; It is nice to see you are finally awake. I have passed out the designations for the ponies today in accordance with work orders I found that were still in effect, and I have scheduled a public appearance for you at 2:00pm in the dining hall so you can give the new arrivals their orientation. Please review the stockpile records that I left on your desk as well, so you can decide on which crops should be planted for the summer harvest and mandate what portion is to be processed and how much should remain as part of the food supply."

I was left slack-jawed at the volley of information thrown at me while still attempting to discern who this was that was speaking to me. It was a royal purple unicorn with a mane that reminded me of the colors of the sky at sunset: An array of colors starting with bright yellow fading to orange, then red, then all the way to a dark purple that matched her coat. She was wearing a pair of slim, square-shaped glasses and a silver choker with a brooch around her neck. She also wore a small saddlebag on her side with a clasp that was shaped like a keystone in an archway: The same emblem displayed on her cutie mark.

"As a friendly suggestion as well, Mr. Prodder, please try to close your mouth when you are thinking. Your appearance suggests you have a deficit of intellect when you stare with it open like that."

"Okay, who are you, and why are you trying to do my job for me?"

She became alarmed at my question, glancing about in thought as she bit her lip and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Ah! I never gave you the letter, did I?" With her horn, she withdrew another envelope from her saddlebag and handed it to me to read. It was a response from Princess Celestia regarding the letter I had sent back to her, in which I was given details about Dawnstar's assignment and why she had been sent with this most recent set of settlers to Songring. I will include her letter in my journal, as well as my response (that I will send at my next meeting with the courier, which I believe should arrive in the summer).

"... Why didn't she just give you my position then," I muttered under my breath, but it seems that my understudy has keen enough hearing that she caught it.

"I'm not even finished with my studying at the university, Mr. Prodder. I am here to learn from your example. Maybe one day I can take a position as a mayor or manager, or perhaps even become a Development Coordinator like you with what I learn here, but I still have much to learn before I'll be ready for something like that."

"Oh, well, that's easy. Just shoot Celestia in the neck and tell her you want to make up for it. You'll be a Development Coordinator in no time."

"That's not funny, Mr. Prodder."

"Neither is Celestia sending me a protégé."

"It's not meant to be funny. It's meant to be a learning experience for me."

"Believe that if you want, but Celestia is having a great laugh at my expense right now with this."

"Why is that?"

"Oh, you'll see soon enough, I'm sure. Just keep a close watch and take plenty of notes, and you'll see why I'm certain she's just screwing with me now."

That was the extent of our first conversation. I must admit that I was already touchy at the time and did not handle the situation very well. Who could though? I barely know what the hell I'm doing here, and then I get someone who wants to learn from me? To learn from how I blindly make decisions based off of no prior knowledge or instruction? Perhaps she's teaching this student 101 ways not to build a settlement? Either way, fuck off, Celestia: I don't need this crap from you right now. I have too much on my plate and on my mind as it is to deal with your enigmatic bullshit! I don't have it in me to happily be the butt of your jokes anymore!

I had to step away from my journal long enough to try to compose myself. I threw a few rocks into the ocean outside my office and ripped some of the grass out of the ground as I took a seat on the cliff ledges in hopes that the sounds of water could calm me. Why? Hell, I don't know: I'm just mad. I did not know it was possible to be mad at absolutely everything almost all the time, but it evidently is. I don't even think I have a good excuse to be this way. If anything, I'm supposed to be sad. I feel that’s the worst part of my brooding.

Tick Tock died this month.

Yeah... I had to take a moment to let that sink in after I wrote it too. I'll do my best to stick to the facts and simply recount what happened. It was about four weeks ago, shortly after the start of Spring. Tick Tock had managed to construct the charcoal filtered pump that he had planned. I had gone out a couple of times to help him test it, and after the second try, it worked like a charm. The cistern that would hold the purified water was still being constructed, so he had time to work on giving the pump a power source to turn it.

I went to visit him at the site above the cliff faces, on the other side of the beach past the dining hall, where he had decided to build a windmill. He chose this location because it was out of the way, and closer to the cistern that was being built. I was going to suggest to him a way he might make a lever-operated transmission, of sorts, that would disconnect the pump from the windmill, instead of his original plan: Putting a brake on the windmill that would halt it altogether when the pump needed to be turned off. I saw what looked to be one of the large sails, partially completed and broken in half, lying on the ground where it must have fallen. Tick Tock was nowhere to be seen, and as I called out to him, I received no answer. I glanced around to try and find him, but it was only when I looked down into the sea below the cliff that I realized what had happened.

Stupidly, I leapt into the water to retrieve the peach-colored, furry object bobbing with the tide and lazily beating up against the rocky incline below. (I am rather lucky that I did not hit anything during my plunge.) Once I surfaced again, I grabbed Tick Tock and pulled his head over my shoulder to keep it above the waves as I struggled to stay afloat, treading water despite his added weight. Try as I might to swim with him, he just had too much mass for an unpracticed swimmer like me to drag along. Pulled away from the rocky incline by the current, I called out desperately for anyone to help.

His eyes were open, so he must still be okay, I thought. As I hugged his cold neck to me to keep his mouth above the water, all I could tell myself, through my cries for help, was that he was going to be okay. After a few minutes, Coral Rift, who was coming back to check the fishing nets she had laid out, heard me shouting and quickly rushed to get some help.

"Let go, lad. I have him." I heard Salmon tell me when I looked up to see him grasping Tick Tock by the abdomen as he hovered in the air with long flaps of his wings. I felt myself embraced around the chest as well by Maple, as she told me to hold on and lifted me out of the water in her grasp. As soon as my feet touched the ground on the cliff next to the windmill, I scrambled from her to where Tick Tock now lay on his back, just as Salmon had placed him before stepping back with a grim look. I was not thinking of the implications of his actions though, only of dropping to my knees at Tick Tock's side and placing my head to his chest to listen.

Nothing.

I have never taken a class on CPR before, much less know how to perform it on a horse, of all things. All I knew came from films and series I had watched on the Stratus about how it was supposed to be done. I pressed my hands into the sides of his chest with force five times, then grabbed his snout and exhaled into it deeply twice. Five pumps, two breaths, five pumps, two breaths. This went on for a little while as Maple and Salmon silently watched on. Coral had attracted a collection of ponies who joined in and stood around foolishly watching me as I tried to turn back time, by what could have been hours, and amend that which is the ultimate finality.

Eventually I felt a hoof placed in front of my chest as I went to lean in again, the lilac-colored pelt of his leg leading up to the stoic expression held on Springfield's face. "That's enough,” He told me, motioning with his head for me to stand up. Dirtnap had approached with a black cloth and some rope, and with his hoof, gently closed Tick Tock's eyes as he still lay motionless on the ground.

As the black shroud was rested over the drowned pony's face, and I was finally on my feet, Overcast rested his body against my side and looked up at me. "I'm sorry, but it was going to have to happen sometime, Mr. Benjamen Prodder."

"Not like this,” I told him, shaking my head as I watched Dirtnap secure the shroud gently in place, preparing to transport the body to someplace for storage until decisions could be made on what to do with it. I felt Maple slip her head under my arm so that she was supporting me with her neck, and Overcast did the same on my other side as they led me back to my office and away from the scene. "Not like this."

How is this fair? What being decides that this is how it should be? He just wanted to make a difference; to be part of something bigger than himself that he could share, and be proud of, with others. All he wanted was to have a little recognition, and to use his talents in a way that would make life a little easier for the rest of us. What does he get for it?

If only Blueprint had been out there helping him, she would have known that sail was going to fall. If Salmon was actually doing his duty, instead of sleeping the day away in a hammock like the fat bastard he is, he would have seen what happened in time! Maybe if Tick Tock wasn't such a damn idiot, this wouldn't have happened!

If only I had been there to supervise his project like I was supposed to. If only I wasn’t such a fool. If only I was more attentive…

The funeral was last week. We held it on the same day as the first activation of the Songring Water Purifier. (Blueprint finished the construction of the windmill to power the pump.) It seemed a fitting homage since it was his baby, his legacy: His way of putting what he could back into Songring so that it would survive. The well used to draw water from the cistern has a plaque made out of blue microcline on it, in memory of he whom we should thank for the gift of clean water here in Songring.

I was asked to speak at the funeral. I had no idea what I was going to say; what was there to say? I had never even been to a funeral before, yet now I was expected to speak to them all at one? Dawnstar had written up a few note cards with topics to help me organize my thoughts and had offered to write a formal address for it, but I didn't bother. As soon as I got up there, I tossed the note cards behind me and just spoke. It was short, but it was all I could muster from my tired mind and heavy heart at the time.

"I don't know what you all want me to say here today. Do you want me to comfort you? Do you want me to tell you what a great pony he was as we lay his body to rest? To bring up fond memories of him so that we can all share one last smile before he becomes just another page in the history of Songring? I don't know what you wanted me to tell you today, and I don't much care. What I will say is that I raise this glass to him in respect, admiration, and thanks to a friend who braved this place and its hardships along with the rest of us, and paid a hefty price for it in the hopes that we all could live our lives a little better. I hope you can hear me Tick Tock, because I never even got to say thank you. You have made a difference, and I am proud to say that you were, and always will be, a true friend and citizen of Songring."

I wish I could have said more, I really do, but all of my memories of him are not those I wish to share publicly. My fond recollections consist of dinners in the seaside cafeteria, hearing him excitedly prattle on and on about some new idea he had dreamed about or thought of while he was working that day: Of automated wheat threshers, or of how to make a flashlight that ran off of body heat, and plenty of other fanciful concepts that never got to be realized. I don't want to share them because all they make me think of is how much he did not get to do with his life, and how he is now gone because of something as stupid and coincidental as not securing a sail properly. It’s... a tragedy.

Current projects in the works include three major priorities: First, seeing as three siblings, who all happen to be doctors arrived with Dawnstar this Spring, I have sketched up plans for an infirmary to be built next to the Songring Water Purifier, to limit the distance required to collect clean water for the medical staff and patients; second, I must see to expanding the current dormitory to accommodate the new arrivals. (I have decided that to conserve on time and space, I will have Silence dig a subterranean living area beneath it to house them until I can finally find the time and material to make proper living arrangements for all of the ponies here.); and lastly, I must get clever and think of a way to increase the output from the fields to somehow feed the expanding population of Songring: currently 38... Pardon, 37 now... individuals and growing. Fortunately, I still have two seasons to work with before the fields get fallowed for the winter, so I should have plenty of time.

Maple's knocking at my office door, and she sounds sober. Something must be amiss if that's the case. That is enough for now anyways; I don't have anything else important to write.

I just want to forget for a little while.