Time-clone TS11608 uploads your final assignment to your inbox, and for the sixty-third time that morning, you pick up a quill in your horngrip and set it to parchment: [i]Dear[/i] — you glance at the bottom of the uploaded letter — [i]Bytecode Quine,[/i] [i]Thank you so much for your lovely letter. I am always thrilled to hear from my fellow ponies — and while my schedule doesn't usually allow personal responses, your request deserves a reply.[/i] [i]No — [u]you[/u] deserve a reply.[/i] You underline that with a flourish, for the same reason you're hornwriting this instead of copying and pasting into an e-mail. Next to you, TS9177 rolls her neck to stretch a kink out, then stands to arch her back. "Done," she says into her mic, then glances at the number on your collar and gives you a sympathetic look. (The 9000s are covering the brief thank-yous to the Holiday Well-Wishes, comma, Not Otherwise Classified. She probably finished her quota of 500 an hour ago, then picked up some slack from other queues.) You nod to her as she heads back to Staging for debrief and decommission, then return your focus to the scroll. [i]That said,[/i] you write, [i]I hope this explanation of why I am declining your offer of a Hearts and Hooves Day date will help bring some comfort.[/i] You let out a long breath, closing your eyes and feeling your wings fluff out. You can never write that without picturing the way their face will fall as they read. You've stabbed 63 ponies straight in the heart today, and felt each one. [i]Simply put,[/i] you write, [i]I spend the day alone by choice. Part of it is that this isn't my holiday; this is Cadance's time to shine.[/i] With the soft whuff of displaced air, TS11608 teleports Bytecode's gift-box of Scharffen Pferdger chocolates to your desk. You pause to sample a few. They're marvelous. [i]But more importantly[/i] — you continue — [i]there are some ponies who don't find romance necessary for a healthy, fulfilling life. A generation ago, I realized I was among them.[/i] "Another year down," TS2326 says as she walks past you to Staging. You understand her look of relief — she's in your group. [i]That doesn't mean I'm incapable of feeling love,[/i] you write. [i]It doesn't mean that I can't enjoy intimate time with ponies. But it does mean I don't get the same kind of fulfillment from the experience that my friends do, and dating has repeatedly led to me creating hurt feelings over unreciprocated passion, which I'd rather not put you through.[/i] [i]If you'd like to learn more[/i] — you add hopefully — [i]I've enclosed search codes you can use on the Equinet to learn more about aromanticism and asexuality. That's my path, not yours, but understanding other ponies better makes it easier to be good friends with them.[/i] You take a deep breath, fire up MapTable.exe, and scrutinze Bytecode's letter while you wait. This is where the script ends and the delicate work begins. The work of being a good friend to somepony who wrote an awkward proposition to a princess they've never met. Your terminal pings. [smcaps]Preliminary compatibility analysis complete,[/smcaps] it says atop ranked lists of names: potential local and online friends based on social media analysis, and a third column of gender-preference-appropriate singles imported from GemHeartDB. You focus your vision into the middle distance and page through the matches' profiles, looking-not-looking at the magical resonance, until you're satisfied. [i]I can tell you try hard to be a good friend,[/i] you write, [i]because the chocolates you sent were a generous — and delicious! — touch. And I know you're lonely right now, despite the beauty of your generosity. When you give and give and get nothing in return, it's the worst feeling in the world.[/i] [i]I can't be everyone's best friend, but I [u]do[/u] care, Bytecode. That's why I hope you drop a line to some of the ponies in the attached list. They could use a good heart like yours, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by how much they bring into your life in return. Please write back next year and let me know how it goes![/i] [i]All my best,[/i] [i]Twilight[/i] And with that, you're done. You reread the scroll, slide it onto the dragonfire-ready pile, then lean back and allow yourself a smile. Only one pony alive could tease out the threads of harmony from such thin context. Good thing she scales.