Silver sighed as she took a sip of her drink. Since the library opened at 5:45, Potts said it would be a good idea to grab a bite to eat. Silver agreed, and they trotted to the nearest café. The nearest one was the Twenty First, which was a small restaurant on the 21st floor in the Downdow building, which was conveniently next to the library. To kill some time, Silver and Potts discussed her project and formats and missed assignments (Silver unfortunately agreed to redo all of them).

They ate and talked for about two hours, and at 4:45, Silver and Potts left the tab on the table and trotted to the elevator. They both awkwardly squished into the elevator with a small waitress and a large, brawny Fed. The Fed's eyes were shielded by a black visor, and his fur was covered by a latex white suit and a gun strapped to his hip. Silver looked him up and down, curious about him.

The Fed turned around and glared at her from behind his visor and let out a warning growl from deep in his throat. Silver backed her ears against her skull and averted her eyes. He let out a huff and looked back at the door again. After an awkward ride on the elevator, the Fed and the waitress got off on the 10th floor. Silver let out a breath as the glass door closed. Potts laughed and looked out the glass walls to the street below.

"He's intimidating," Silver said, her voice shaking slightly.

Potts smiled softly, his wrinkles creasing on the corners of his mouth. "Only slightly," he said. Potts wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was a hot day outside, and the sunlight wasn't filtered through the glass.

They arrived on the bottom and walked slowly out of the elevator and onto the street. The streets were still crowded, and cars still hovered over the pavement and through the air, their quiet hum reaching a roar.

The library on the corner was an older building, but it was still white and still tall, but elegant stained-glass windows were engraved into the sides of the building in colorful curves and waves of glass. Silver and Potts trotted into the library's public lobby and up to the front desk. An old, white filly was sitting at the desk, scanning books under her com.

Potts coughed and held up his ID. "The library opens in fifteen minutes. Please wait," the old filly said without looking up. Potts scoffed and gestured over to the chairs that were lined up against th far wall. Sighing, Silver sat down and looked up at the ceiling. It arched up into a curved dome. The State's emblem of the moon was embellished on the ceiling, accompanied by Fleur De lies surrounding it.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, the white filly waved them over. Pots handed her his ID, and she scanned it under her com. Silver did the same, handing the filly her student ID, which she promptly scanned as well. "Through there," the filly pointed towards an arch on the other side of the room, and handed them back their IDs.

Potts and Silver trotted though the arch and up a flight of stairs. They came into a large room, shelves and shelves of old manuscripts that lined the wall. Silver turned to look at Potts, but he wasn't there; he was already at a table, sliding his ID through the table's com. It projected the words: 'RESERVED' in large, red letters in the air.

"Alright, lets get to it," Potts said, turning to face her.

"So, are these the manuscripts?" Silver blew on one of them, dust motes dancing off of the leather cover. "How old are these?" she said, opening one to find colorfully printed pages, slightly weathered after the many years of sitting on the shelf.

"About 700 years old," Potts said a matter of factly. "Be careful with that!" he barked as one of the manuscripts toppled over the top of the pile that Silver was tediously carrying. "These manuscripts are worth more than your head!" Potts snarled and picked up the fallen manuscript.

Silver cringed and laughed uncomfortably. "Sorry," she whimpered as she set the books down with a lone thump. Potts sighed and waved it away.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter," Potts said, grabbing one of the manuscripts and sitting down with it. "No, it should be here somewhere," he muttered, paging through the manuscript's dusty pages. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the bookmark sticking out of the page. "Here it is!" he beckoned her over and pointed to a paragraph.

"'... the Hunter v. Opal case continued but was eventually dismissed by the President, who had no further comment of the matter,'" Silver sat down and looked at it closer. "She had no comment? But isn't that what the other excerpt of the Downy v. Cake case said?" Silver looked up at Potts, confusion scribbled on her forehead.

"Not only in these two cases," he paused as he tapped the com and pulled up the manuscript's text. He typed something, then punched the search button. Millions and millions of results came up, scrolling down the page and filling up the com's screen. "Project," Potts ordered, and the results appeared in the air, the words 'no comment' filling her vision.

All of them were talking about President Luna. "This is..." Silver trailed off as she stood up, mouth agape. Potts looked up at her grinning face and smiled.

"Think about it, when have you ever heard something from the own President's mouth live? On the news? In your books?" Potts pulled out her seat and motioned for her to sit down. "Think, Silver! When have you ever even heard President Luna speak freely without a teleprompter or a per written speech?" Potts said, is voice lowering to almost a whisper, his words a rumble in his throat.

Silver blinked. "Come to think of it, I've never heard of that," Silver said, her eyes narrowing. Suddenly, alarm gripped her. He had the same behavior that she had read about: Rebels. Was he a Troop? Or worse, planning something? "Potts, why are we here?"

"Come on!" Potts said, ignoring the latter of her comments. He beckoned her over to the other manuscripts, and began to open them up. Colorful illustrations of ponies with wings and strange, pointy horns on their foreheads decorated page after page. "Look at this! See these ponies with wings? They're called 'pegasi', and these ones with the horns are called 'unicorns'!" Potts' voice was almost child-like now, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Pegasi can fly, and unicorns can use magic! Magic, Silver! Like in the storybooks!"

"Potts, why are we here?" Silver asked again, confused and now frustrated in her professor's rabbit-trail attention span. Potts' head shot up and looked straight into her eyes. "Potts?" her voice died in her throat as he pulled out his portable com. His eyes suddenly seemed to dawn on her discomfort, and he straightened. His eyes narrowed.

Then, without a word being said, he began to snap pictures of the pages, going from one manuscript from another. "We're here to gather information for your project, Silver," he said slowly, continuing to snap pictures.

Silver bit her bottom lip. "I see," she said slowly. "Question," she said, sitting down, her hip and confidence deflated from her. "can I borrow these manuscripts?" Silver asked, her breath catching in her throat as the clicking of the camera stopped.

"I can check some out for you," Potts said, a smile in his voice. Silver nodded and continued to stare at the table. She wanted to get up and leave Potts and his stupid manuscripts behind, but curiosity had the better of her, her brain stitched to the idea of flying ponies and ponies using magic.

Why would something like this be in a history library, she pondered. Especially in the President's library. Silver sighed and rested her muzzle on the table. Potts' smile faded as quickly as it had come, and he stood up and looked at the window. "We need to leave," he said. It was dark out, so the moon was high in the sky, radiant and bright.

"What? Why?" Silver said, raising her head. "What is it?"

Potts still had a worried look on his face. "Just check out the manuscripts and go home. Send me a message when you're done reading them," Potts then turned on his back hooves and trotted away in a sudden urgency that alarmed Silver.

She turned to face the window. Nothing was there except the lone moon with no stars, as per usual. She frowned and gathered up the manuscripts (which she so expertly balanced on her head) and trotted to the check-out desk.

It was only 7:38.