Chapter 10 “Between the idea / And the reality / Between the motion / And the act / Falls... ...*Acorn’s Shadow* / For Thine is the Kingdom / Between the desire / And the spasm / Between the potency / And the existence / Between the essence / And the descent / Falls... ...*Acorn’s Shadow* / For Thine is the Kingdom / For Thine is / Life is / For Thine is the / This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper.” Between the conception / And the creation / Between the emotion / And the response / Falls... ...*Acorn’s Shadow* / Life is very long / — the chapter ends. …Well, shit.” “Whatever, I’m sure it’s fine,” Acorn said. He raised one hoof over the book, casting a shadow over it. “There, now this chapter’s title is already out of the way so we don’t need to worry about it. Acorn’s Shadow: check.” “So what’s the deal here?” Jeanne Betancourt asked Acorn. “What and how exactly are we judging?” “Well,” Acorn replied, “we have two choices, one more extreme, and one less. Like I mentioned before, Anna’s working on a plan to return this book to normal. We can either help her plan, or we can make it unnecessary.” “What is this ‘plan’ of Anna’s?” Minos said. He swished his tail, and was happy to notice that he didn’t start shitting. Apparently the absence of Dirk’s influence was already starting to make life a bit more bearable. Acorn whinnied and scuffed the ground with his hoof. “…I don’t know. To be honest, I was kind of hoping that she would describe ‘Operation Palimpsest” before the book cut back to us, so we could read it.” Jeanne Betancourt picked the paperback up and flipped to the relevant page. (She could tell it was the relevant page because it ended with the words, “flipped to the relevant page.”) “Maybe the narrative will shift back over to their perspective soon,” Jeanne said hopefully. “Yes,” Minos said. “And maybe that will happen right…. now.” He looked at Betancourt. She shook her head. Minos grumbled. “Oh well,” Acorn said with an equine shrug (which means he just stood still, because ponies can’t fucking shrug). “Guess we’re flying blind. Unless the narrative shifts back right— ——— “So here’s my plan,” Anna said. Somewhere far away, a black cat shouted, “Oh, come on!!” Anna stood on the stump at the edge of the clearing and looked at her two friends like a seasoned general surveying her troops. But in this metaphor, Pam and Pawnee weren’t soldiers. No, they were more akin to fighter jets: vicious, deadly, complex machines made of thousands of delicate parts working precariously in tandem; filled with rocket fuel and carrying explosive payloads, as dangerous to their targets as they were to themselves; ripping through the skies at ridiculous speeds, faster than sound, faster than missiles, faster than any thought or intent beyond mere reflex; full of mazes of crackling electronic wiring and laden with complex meters and dials right next to their controls, so that any slight change in altitude or bearing is registered in a microsecond-long feedback loop, the data flickering through them faster than they #DetectivePony
