The dreams are getting worse. I've had to call in some experts on the subject of consuming these herbs, but it seems they have very little insight to give me at this time. Possibly due to Songring's lack of actual experts to call upon. Bunsen informs me that without a sample of what I took to run tests on, she cannot ascertain what compound is causing my distress. Springfield has never seen the kind of herbs that the zebras were peddling. In fact, the only pony that really knew anything about them was Tye Dye, and when I asked her to explain what was going on, she just laughed at me and told me I was just having a "bad trip”.

"I am glad I'm not you right now. That stuff's great for detoxing yourself, but it's never an easy ride. Have a lot on your mind, Prodder? A lot of stuff you're wound up over? Feeling a little unfulfilled? Hope you're ready to just let it all go, little man, because that trip is going to last a while. You'll feel better if you just settle in and flow with it."

This is what I get for trusting a druggie to give me medical advice. I'm simply looking for an estimate of how long this effect is going to last, and she tries to give me vague, unhelpful advice about my life. I've considered thanking her for her oh-so-helpful observations by ordering a lava lamp for her from Bullion's caravan, but I fear she'll end up being even less helpful if she is glued to colorful floating wax while she huffs down more zebra products.

The dreams seem to all be about my father, which is what has me so upset. What am I doing here? Have I forgotten what my original goal was? Do I even think I will return to my quest? I feel like I am losing focus on what is important to me...

When I wrote that, I had to truly ask myself what is important: A corpse, or these creatures that look up to me for protection and guidance? It still is a very tough question to answer, and one that I find myself in too poor of health to consider right now. It will just have to wait.

In the most recent dream that woke me up in the middle of the night, I was watching what I perceived to be my father and many others huddled behind metal shipping containers while a spinning chain gun unloaded a storm of bullets around them. Their faces were kind of blurry so I couldn't recognize any of them. It was all silent, but I could see they were talking. Though none of them apparently knew what to do, my father just sat there silently and listened to them for a while. Once all of their concerns had been voiced, he set down his scattergun and got his ballistic shield ready, looking at each of them to say something. Pulling free a disc-like contraption, he slammed it to his chest so that the sharp prongs latched into him, then connected it to the I/O ports on the back of his neck. He appeared to bid them all farewell with a final nod. That's when I watched him throw himself over the shipping container and right into the onslaught of bullet fire, holding up his shield to protect his face and the device in his chest. Blood flew around him as his free arm and remaining organic leg were being torn to shreds, his mechanical right leg one of the only things surviving the endless hail of shots fired at him. Sparks continued to erupt off of his shield and his leg, until he finally threw himself in a dive at the hulking, cybernetically-rigged monster holding the large rotating firearm. When his shoulder connected, a blue light from the disc in his chest flashed, and everything in their immediate vicinity was pulled toward their collision in some sort of vortex for just a moment before they disappeared, leaving nothing behind... not even the smoke from the gun.

This is all very abbreviated, as I understand that my journal is not, and never will act as, a psychiatrist. I am rather grateful for this, for I believe it would only tell me that I hate my mother anyway. Or that I have an Oedipal Complex. Both spectacularly unhelpful and unfounded speculation, as I find almost all "professional" mental assistance to be in the absence of true dysfunction.

On the note of speculation, I have witnessed Dawnstar becoming more comfortable with her position as temporary Development Coordinator with me at her side. This has not come without cost, however, as a couple of other ponies have become less and less comfortable with it. The two settlers in question have refused to communicate with Dawnstar this season, and have had quite a few issues they've been specifically calling to my attention.

One good example is that when I am seen leaving the office with Dawnstar to accompany her on her rounds, I am often greeted by Maple, who will start walking alongside us, sticking close as we walk about. Dawnstar has repeatedly asked Maple to go back to work, but each time she has refused due to some reasonable (probably self-inflicted) problem. I believe she has suffered four broken axes, two "finished what you gave me already"s, and at least one spinal discomfort complaint that she insisted she just needed to “walk it off”. I would not mind this all that much, except that it seems Maple is intent on trying to hold my attention as much as possible with questions and observations, which creates a bit of a problem when Dawnstar and I need to communicate so I can give her the insight she seeks. It has allowed me to see more of Maple though, and it’s flattering to know that she prefers to spend her free time (intentional or accidental) around me for reasons that I hope include more than just interrupting Dawnstar's learning.

The second dissenter, Silence, has readjusted her work schedule so that she now has Tuesdays off instead of Fridays. I at first thought this action was just for a change of pace, but she is spending those Tuesdays with me in the smelting room, sitting close to me as we watch the furnaces pump out more ingots to keep up with the stockpile of ore that she and Canary have been able to mine out during the week before. It has been nice to have someone to speak to during those dreadfully boring days as I consider revoking my own safety mandates, but I can't help but begin to feel a bit uncomfortable knowing that most of her day off is still spent in the mines. That, and the fact that her horn is constantly glowing softly when she is around me. When it does, I could swear I feel someone touching me, which makes me uncomfortable. Strokes on the arm, embraces around the neck, presses against my side, all of which cause my nerves to jump and distract me from my duty there in the smelting room. I've asked her to stop, but such measures are temporary at best.

As much as I must say that the feeling of human touch is something I kind of miss... it's still distressing to feel it when there's nobody actually doing it. Just makes me feel all the more out of place.

Another specific incident needs to be added to Dawnstar's progress report here, and it is regarding Songring's resident chef who was having quite of a bit of a scuffle with Blueprint over something that most might view as insignificant at most. How could it possibly be worth noting? Well…

The situation began with a bit of commotion one day that resulted in quite a few ponies leaving the dining hall unhappy and raising a ruckus. Dawnstar and I split up and each started speaking to individuals in the crowd to try to discover what the cause of the disruption was. As it turns out, there was no food prepared for today's lunch. All of the ponies had been turned away and told to go simply get something raw out of the stockpiles to eat, which left a sour taste in quite a few mouths of those who were excited to get to enjoy a nice, well-earned meal at the dining hall only to find they would be munching on uncooked carrots and celery stalks. Together Dawnstar and I attempted to make our way into the kitchen beneath the dining hall to try to speak with Julienne about what might be the cause of this sudden dereliction of duty.

Before we even made it down there, however, we could hear the frustrated arguments and shouts coming from below, and the dining hall was almost all but cleared out aside from Absinthe draped over the bar on her back and blowing a strand of her silky mane out of her face in boredom. At the sight of the two of us, the large equine bartender smiled and rolled back off of the bar so that she was standing behind it, motioning for the two of us to come take a seat. We both declined.

"Aw, don't get my hopes up for a chat and end up leaving like everypony else did. C'mon darlings, take a seat and chat for a spell. Julienne and Blueprint have been at it all morning, so don't mind them okay?"

"That's precisely what we came to investigate," Dawnstar immediately returned as she refused to sit down. I saw her shoot me a dirty look as I took a seat, but I merely shrugged at her as I figured it would not hurt to speak with a calm individual that actually knew the situation. "I need to go see about clearing this mess up before we miss yet another meal and everypony is forced to have a stock-ration dinner as well."

"Good luck with those two, Honey," Absinthe responded, getting closer to me to pull free a bottle of a golden, smooth liquid that I could already smell had a fair bit of honey in it. I turned it down, but it was tempting to at least try a bit: Honey liquor sounds quite intriguing. "You'll need it. The gals have been at each others' throats since I opened up this morning. You've got a couple of very opinionated mares down there."

"We'll see about that," my intern challenged, starting to step away before I gave a sharp whistle to call her back. Giving a frustrated sigh, Dawnstar slowly turned about to view me with an unamused stare. "What, Mr. Prodder? Do you have some lesson for me now too? I already know to fix the cause, not the effect."

"Actually, I was just thinking maybe we should ask Absinthe a few more questions. Once you go down there, it's going to be pretty hard to make a decision since both of them are going to try to get you on their side. You can go down there if you want, but I was just thinking perhaps a calmer environment to think in would help you out."

With a pleased and thoughtful nod, she came back to the bar and sat down, still refusing anything to drink. She immediately commandeered the conversation, pouring all of her focus on Absinthe in hopes of getting an understanding of the details. My small talk would have to wait then. "Alright, so have you heard what they have been arguing about? What's got them both so upset?"

"Appliances." We two “keystones” looked at each other with an arch in our brows, unsure if we had heard her right. Seeing our questioning exchange, the bartender nodded to confirm our disbelief. "Kitchen appliances. Been hearing them go on, and on, and on all day about it. You see, little Blueprint's a regular egghead and has some very valid ideas on how to improve the kitchen down there. Working stovetops, manageable ovens, streamlined countertops to sort out the spices and create something like a food assembly line to help Julienne speed up her work."

"Excellent!" Dawnstar commented, seeming to smile at the idea of modernizing our food preparation area. "That way Julienne might be able to actually have more than a couple of fifteen minute breaks during the day! Not to mention, with more settlers showing up, the demand is only going to increase." A clatter and enraged yell erupted from below then as a sound much like a pot being tossed about floated up to us, which made all three of us cringe and cover our ears until it subsided. "... But I can tell this must be a problem. What could possibly be so bad about this change that Julienne is throwing a fit?"

"Too many cooks spoil the broth, Hun. Or in this case: Too many machines spoil the fun." Absinthe gave me an odd wink which I have yet to understand, but I have a feeling that it might have something to do with the fact that I am sporting a model JWLinc-225 Cranial Cyber Mesh. Considering the problems I myself have had with it since my arrival here... I am inclined to agree with her if that was indeed her insinuation.

"I didn't know Julienne was so opposed to technology," I mentioned, scratching my head.

"It's not that she's opposed, she just doesn't like it in her kitchen. I mean, why fix what isn't broken, right? She has never had to rely on a self-regulating stove or mechanical dicers and blenders, so why should she start now? I think it's a pride thing for the big sweetheart."

"Well, she might as well swallow it. I for one think Blueprint's ingenuity is remarkable and would be a wonderful asset to this settlement. I suppose I'll go and see about talking Julienne into accepting the new arrangements. Perhaps she's just scared and needs some reassurance."

"You sure that's what you want to do?" I asked Dawnstar quickly, intrigue stopping her from walking away.

"Is that the wrong answer, Mr. Prodder?" she asked back, genuinely concerned if I had more insight for her, second-guessing what she had just moments ago made sound like a convicted and certain decision.

"I don't know, Dawnstar, that's not my place to decide. All I'm asking is if you've really thought about what you're doing?" As Dawnstar bit her lip, I shrugged my shoulders to her and looked at Absinthe, who gave me a smug look back, knowing immediately what I was up to. I could swear that there was a twinkle in her eye as she watched me, silently urging me on to keep up my esoteric approach at making my point. "If you can tell me with 100% certainty that you have thought this through and are prepared to enact your decision, by all means, go ahead. I just want to make sure you aren't rushing into a choice. That's all, I promise."

Dawnstar took a deep breath, seeming rather upset that I would not give a straightforward response to her question. I motioned for her to sit down, which she obliged, resting her head against the bar with her brows set low in intense thought. "... So I have to think it over then. Will you at least help me with that? What am I supposed to be thinking about then? It seems rather clear that Blueprint is right, and Julienne just needs some comfort to settle into the new arrangement of things. What am I forgetting?"

"I don't know, what are you forgetting?" I asked back, feeling that my involvement further would hinder her own growth; however, she did receive some help.

"We've never had a shortage of meals before," Absinthe responded, moving away from my side (but not before flicking her tail my direction so that it swatted me in the face once). "What would happen if you didn't let Blueprint install those new appliances?"

"Well, if we were to get more settlers than we have, we might begin to overwork Julienne or leave some ponies without prepared meals. I suppose that's not a major catastrophe, but still better to avoid just in case."

"You're right," Absinthe nodded, "But what'll happen if you do install those appliances then? What changes will that make?"

"Increased productivity for one. Less time spent in the kitchen would mean that Julienne would find more free time, not to mention she could provide for a larger population if she had these new tools. It only seems to be in her favor that we do this."

"Yet she's the only one fighting it,” Absinthe said before backing down, turning her back to us to signify that her part of the conversation was over. I watched as she uncorked the bottle of honey liquor she had offered me and tilted it above her own face to take a quick drink, before smiling back at me subtly and rocking the bottle back and forth as if she was still offering me some.

Drinking after her? I think I'll pass.

Dawnstar pursed her lips at the statement and grasped her head in her hooves to mull it over. "She is, isn't she? That doesn't make sense. She's the only one that could benefit from it, so why is she so adamant about not letting it happen?" Looking to me, Dawnstar raised her hooves in question, at a loss of decision now. "Your thoughts, Mr. Prodder?"

"My only thought is that it doesn't affect me either way."

"Thanks a lot," Dawnstar responded bitterly, growing fed up with my unhelpful responses. Before I could assure her that I was just trying to help, she seemed to brighten up a bit and gave me a different glance. One that made her smirk as she looked me in the eyes and raised her head again. "Actually... yeah, thanks." More sincere this time, she stood up from the stool and began walking towards the kitchen.

"Did you think it over?" I asked her again, wondering if she would stop.

"I certainly did, Mr. Prodder. I have this one, don't worry. I know exactly what to do."

I struck up a conversation with Absinthe then to let Dawnstar handle the situation as she saw fit. The bartender was still in the habit of getting uncomfortably close to me when we spoke, but she did commend me for one thing. "You're better at this teaching thing than you give yourself credit for." When I asked her what she meant, she chuckled lightly. "Just, coming from a professional, you're doing it right. The biggest question is if you really think she has what it takes?"

"I don't waste my time with pointless endeavors."

I was informed later that Dawnstar had made the decision to postpone any remodeling of Songring's kitchen area. Blueprint had been thanked for her initiative and commended on her efforts, but was instructed to instead simply write up the plans and hand them in for review and implementation at a later time. Julienne was advised to continue working as she had been, but if she ever felt she needed help, to come back and discuss making a few minor changes to the kitchen to speed up her work.

Sometimes productivity can take a backseat to comfort.

Yet another step closer.

Someone's touching my shoulder now. Without looking up, I can assume it's Silence at my doorway wishing to speak with me. Think-speak with me. Yes, it is Silence. I will continue with another update next week, as it will be Dawnstar's final week as acting Development Coordinator of Songring.

I wish her luck.