While unicorn magic follows a set of laws, the earth pony variation of magic appears to divulge into two distinct schools, Full Slate read, earth pony magic pertaining to crops, and Immediate Disaster Soothsaying (IDS), otherwise known as “Pinkie Sense.”
An orange hoof blocked the next paragraph, and the text turned upside down as the hoof retracted. Slate looked up and threw an irritated look at the pony reading the book on the other end of the study table. The other pony ignored Full Slate, his eyes pacing left and right.
“I’m reading,” Slate said.
“About IDS? C’mon, you’re just going to hurt your head trying to figure out that drivel,” the other said. “Besides, we need some help near Spire 48. Somepony made shelf 48-64 collapse, and I heard that the Dreamfallers need that space in about an hour.”
“If Dr. Sparkle tried to decipher the complexities behind IDS, then so can we,” Slate said, twisting the book back into his hooves. “And besides, Blank, that’s the only magic system the library hasn’t completely cataloged.”
“Fine. See where that takes you,” Blank commented as she walked away from Slate.
The books were piled high on Slate’s desk. Scientific journals, outdated experiments, copies of books in Old Greif. Slate scribbled words onto his journal, his pen nib violently shaking after every precise stroke of magic.
Not even the Friendship Letters could help Slate. Dr. Sparkle’s words were vague, as if they were hiding something behind the archaic language of her letters. While she did acknowledge the existence of IDS, she seemed to accept the fact that it was left as a passing fact, rather than a form of magic.
But Dr. Sparkle’s words forced Slate to keep searching. When she sewed the seeds of the Great Library’s foundation, she wished to create a library where all of Equestria’s information could be stored— and accessed in one place. That meant teams of ponies souring the world for orally told stories, meticulous study of animals and the areas where even light could not show the bottom of ravines.
Her words also meant the complete analysis of Immediate Disaster Soothsaying.
At this time, on the twelfth day of December on year 1745 of the Sun’s Reign, Slate wrote, his horn tensing from the extensive use of magic, the rules of IDS are only known to its usage.
A flash of magic sent the pen nib flying across the desk and slamming into one of the books. Slate’s head shot back as a flare of pain tingled from his horn.
He yawned. Another night to spend within the Great Library’s walls. He could afford to sleep in Spire 45, he thought, since the popular books were kept there.
Slate rose from his seat and stared at his work. Another inconclusive study about IDS. All of the information seemed to be summarized in his final paragraph, where he explained his week-long search through the Great Library’s seventy spires for any trace of IDS.
Since the only recorded user of IDS passed away nearly 700 years ago, there is no way to fully analyze its use without violating Twilight’s Law of Time Leaps. Therefore, Slate read, it is not possible to record IDS until the appropriate earth pony possesses the ability and is aware of the fact that they possess IDS.
Seven hundred years later, and Pinkie Sense still eludes scholars’ ability to reason, a fitting testament to Pinkie Pie. Slate’s conclusions seem like a bit of foreshadowing; I wonder what would happen next…