A friendly community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and strange lights pass overhead as we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Ponyville.
First up, the Council has asked me to announce the opening of the Ponyville Children's History Museum, at the south end of Main Street. The Council would like to remind you that foals are not allowed in the History Museum. Adults are not allowed in the history museum. It is possible that you will see amber lights in the windows of the History Museum. Do not approach the amber lights. Do not approach the History Museum. There is no way into the History Museum. Do not look at the History Museum, and especially, do not look for any length of time at the amber lights.
The History Museum cannot harm you.
And now, time for the news.
Lady Rarity, out by the roundhouse, says that the crystal ponies arrived on a beam of a golden light from out of the night sky, and that they are cold and beautiful and one of them was a zebra. She says that they helped with various chores around her property. One of them killed a rat, which had been a bother in her kitchen for weeks. She is offering for sale the dead rat, which has been touched by the hoof of crystal pony. The rat's fur is still covered in frost, if that sweetens the pot. If you're interested, talk to Lady Rarity. She's out near the roundhouse.
Some new ponies came to town today, led by a unicorn. They say that they know magic. Well, we have all known magic, at some point in our lives, haven't we, Ponyville? Magic in the infinite night, and in the depths of a loved one's eyes. Why come all the way to Ponyville to find more? And this unicorn who leads them—why her perfect mane? Why her perfect robe? And what does she—do they—plan to do with all the crackling runic chanter's harnesses and muttering tomes that they have moved into the building by Pinkie Pie's Bakery and Arcade Fun Complex, finest purveyor of baked goods in all of Ponyville? No one does cupcakes like Pinkie Pie—no one.
A reminder to all the parents out there for when you take your foals out to play in the afternoon sun: do NOT take your foals out to play in the afternoon sun. Even if the Weather-wings have already secured the cloud cover, afternoon light—even the harmless-seeming, grey light that shines through the clouds—is not safe for your children. It is not safe for anyone. If someone you know is caught outside after lunchtime, ring your home's Fear Alarm, hide under your bed, and wait for the Weather-wings to drop a brick-red feather through your mail slot, letting you know that the situation has been resolved. Do NOT come out from under your bed if the feather is blood-red, which indicates the Fear Alarm is still in effect. If you cannot see the color of the feather from under your bed, then your home is in breach of Ponyville building codes, and you may face severe fines.
An express train traveling west and south, towards the bright lands, disappeared today, only to reappear in a classroom of Ponyville Elementary. This caused some confusion, as Ponyville Elementary consists of a single classroom, with a single teacher, Ms. Cheerilee. And her classroom is far too small for an entire express steam train to fit inside, even if the students were diligent in cleaning their desks (which they are not, being, after all, only foals). It is reported that the train, while seeming no smaller than the multi-ton, roaring engine of fire and ash that it was, was strangely compressed in space and time, the cars seeming to overlap one another while the passengers inside aged and died and withered and were born again before the eyes of Cheerilee and her students, all the while staring out the train's windows with fixed, sightless eyes and mouths agape.
Then train then vanished, leaving all occupants of the school unharmed in body, but forever altered in mind and spirit. No word yet on how the train came to undergo such an alteration, nor on how the education our foals receive will be altered or delayed by this sudden, phantom, engine and coaches. No word either on if this is the work of our rival city, Trottingham, which is always trying to show us up with a fancier main street, and an Armistice Festival held between the hours of noon and dusk, and now—possibly—contorting an express train through space and time until it occupied a classroom only for an instant, but will occupy our childrens' memories for the rest of their lives. For shame, Trottingham. For shame.
The new magician, who we now know is called Twilight, called a town meeting. She has a deep purple coat, an elegant horn, and eyes as deep and dark as oceans. Her mane is perfect, and all we hate and despair and love that perfect mane in equal measure. Lady Rarity brought cupcakes, which were good, but lacked salt. She said the crystal ponies had taken her salt on an urgent mission, back to the cold times, and that she hadn't been to the store to buy more—or to buy cupcakes from Pinkie Pie. Twilight told us that we are the most magically interesting community in Equestria, and that she and her team had come to study just what goes on around here. She smiled, and everything about her was perfect, and I fell in love instantly. Inquisitors of either the night or the day, or some yet undiscovered time and light, were watching the meeting. I worry for Twilight. I worry for our town. I worry for anyone caught between times, and lights, and the mysteries of both.
Listeners, we received a press release this morning from the Ponyville Friends of the Sky. They would like to announce the opening of the new Ponyville Observatory and Planetarium. I was given a tour of the facilities at their invitation, and I have to say, it is a really awesome place. A beautiful two-hundred-pony dome theater, the largest telescope in this part of Equestria, and enchanted lenses to chart the movement of the stars and select best view of them on any given night. Now, there is some concern that there are no stars anymore, which limits the usefulness of this new feature of our town. And that is a downside, I admit. Currently, looking into the telescope only results in being blinded by brilliant light, without even any indication whether it comes from the sun or the moon. So maybe, wait for an eclipse, or another golden beam of light like the one the crystal ponies arrived on, and then head down to the observatory for the full nocturnal experience.
Twilight and her team of magicians report that one of the engines in the roundhouse doesn't exist. The engine, a venerable machine of black iron and brass fixtures, appears to be entirely solid, and it sits in its bay alongside many other engines, each identical, except for the brass numbers. But, Twilight says, this engine—number six—does not exist. It seems like it does, when you look at it, but it is a lie, or a trick of the light. Twilight says they have cast a great many spells and chanted a great many things, and the engine does not exist. At time of this report, the magicians had surrounded the engine and were daring one another to give it a good thump.
Ponyville's Council of Truth would like to remind you, at this time, of the ancient crystal ponies, and the nature of the deep times. The reminder is that you should not know anything about any of these things. Crystal ponies, they would like to remind us all, are not real, nor is the past, from which they supposedly hail. They encourage you to ignore any crystal ponies you might see in the marketplace or at Pinkie Pie's Bakery and Arcade Fun Complex, as they do not exist, and are, of course, terrible liars.
Speaking of the Bakery and Arcade Fun Complex, Pinkie herself would like to announce a special promotion. Anyone who achieves a high score on a specially selected arcade machine there will receive a complementary cake, prepared immediately. The machine in question is the grey one, right at the front, whose name and instructions are in a language which does not yet exist. Pinkie says she never bought the machine, and that it refuses to leave until someone allows it to sleep once more.
And now, time for a brief public service announcement. Diamond dogs: can they eat your foals?
Yes.
Near the train station, the ground shakes. Not the vibration of the trains, as thye rumble and rush out of the light, and into darkness. Something deeper. Something older. The past is here, Ponyville. And it's north of the train station, past the water towers, and at least a hundred feet down.
Ponyville's mailmare disappeared today. While delivering to Fluttershy, out on the edge of town, she let out a great shriek and vanished into thin air. Or, at least, air that had formerly been thin, and full of pegasus, before both air and pegasus were replaced by a pulsing grey void, from which came both clouds of butterflies, and what sounded like a guitar being smashed over a rock. Her disappearance is being investigated by the Zebra Shaman—that is, the guy who calls himself a zebra shaman, but has a blonde coat, an apple cutie mark, and a bright lands accent you could cut with a cake knife. He claims that he will uncover the truth and retrieve our mailmare from wherever it was that she was taken. No one responded, because it's really hard to take him seriously in that cartoonishly offensive, plastic shaman mask that he wears all the time.
Twilight, beautiful and perfect, came by our studio early. She wore a harness covered in copper knobs, which sparked and glittered under the lights. She said she was testing for ley lines, and I didn't ask what she meant. I didn't ask her to stay for an interview, either. I didn't ask her anything, because, as long as she was in the room, I couldn't say anything.
And, how lame is that, really, because talking is pretty much my entire job, and what's wrong with me if I can't even do that while she's around? What am I supposed to do?
…
Anyway, Twilight got kinda nervous after the harness made a sound like the scream of a griffon. I've never seen anyone with eyes that deep look so nervous. She told me to evacuate the building and get everyone at least two hundred yards away. But if I did that, who would be left to be your voice in the night—especially now that I can speak again?
It looks like the Weather-wings have moved off the cloud cover, so it's going to be another beautiful night here in Ponyville. Here's hoping you all have someone you love to spend it with—or, if not, at least memories of someone.
Good night, Ponyville. Good night.
Proverb: A bird in the hoof is not worth getting your eyes pecked out.
The sky is eternal. Long after all of us are dead, it will remain, unchanging and unchangeable. Or so we all thought. Welcome to Ponyville.
Urgent news, listeners: the night is dark. Not the light and silvery darkness we all know, when all the sky is a void except for the moon. No, this is the heavy black darkness of that can only be found underground, or inside our own heads. I can see it pressing down on the windows of the studio even now, listeners. It has swallowed the sky itself, or perhaps it is the sky itself, descending upon us all after so long spent silent. Spent waiting. Waiting for what? I do not know, listeners. I do not know.
It's that time of year again, Ponyville: the local chapter of the Cutie Mark Crusaders has once again been deputized by the inquisitors of unknown allegiance and will be hunting down members of the community who display tendencies towards heterodox thinking. Of course, as the mysterious inquisitors' purpose remains obscured to all, no one knows what is heretical and what is not. So, there is no list of activities to be avoided or concealed. Instead, it is recommended that you treat all foals, including any children you may or may not have with a mixture of suspicion, resentment, and fear.
After all, it's how they think of you.
Best of luck to the CMCs, and especially to all the new members looking to earn their pogrom merit badge.
The Ponyville Philharmonic Orchestra is announcing its fall concert series, listeners. The theme for this season is “Contemporary Classic,” and the Orchestra's founder, Octavia Melody, says that the focus will be on notable compositions of the last hundred years. Currently scheduled performances include “Autumn Whispers,” by Morning Glory, “Dying Lights and Cold Nights” by Fallow Fields, “First Frost Cantata” by First Frost, “Red Leaves Concerto” by Crackle, and “The Stars are Dead and Hope with Them,” by the Unspeakable Truth Living Silently Within Us All.
A bit of good news, listeners: Fluttershy, out on the edge of town, just called in to say that this new darkness which has engulfed us is not universal. She said that, from her place on the edge of our little city, she can see lights in the distance. Not the silvery glow of the night, nor even the red lights, fiery and shrouded with smoke, that pass overhead regularly, particularly on Tuesdays. But she can see the amber lights in the forest, just as she can every night, and even the golden glow of distant and treacherous Trottingham. So you heard it here first, listeners: lights still work. It's the sky that seems to be the problem.
At this time, Ponyville Community Radio would like to issue a correction, and an apology. After our last episode, we were contacted by Lady Rarity, out near the roundhouse. She informed us that we had neglected to update her style and titles when announcing the arrival of the crystal ponies. Ponyville Community Radio would like to apologize for the oversight, and I, personally, would like tell Lady Rarity that I'm sorry. I don't know how it slipped my mind. So, listeners, in the interest of accuracy and good reporting, Lady Rarity's current style and titles are: Lady Rarity, Empress of Equestria, Sovereign of the Serene State of Carousel, Arbiter and Architect of silks, velvets, satins, but not linens, Ambassador to the Crystal Ponies and the Realms Beyond.
What preceded was the full style and titles of Lady Rarity, may her gems be ever bright.
And, your Ladyship, give me a call sometime. We never talk anymore, and that's a terrible shame.
I've just received an emergency bulletin, listeners: the Dread-wings announce that there is a fugitive at large in the Ponyville area. Said fugitive was apprehended at the train station, when he attempted to pass a bouquet of wilted peonies and a desiccated wasps' nest off as a ticket to Fillydelphia. When Dread-wings questioned him, he first produced a falsified ID, then fled south, over the hills, traveling in great bounds and leaps and leaving puddles of warm treacle where he landed. The suspect has been described as “tall,” “scaly,” and “literally an ancient spirit of strife and ruin from the dawn of time.” The name on the ID given to authorities was “Apate,” but Dread-wings have determined that this is the name of an ancient of spirit of strife and ruin who died several years ago in Manehatten. Therefore, the suspect, whose exact identity remains unknown, has been charged with criminal mischief, impersonation, resisting arrest, and littering. Citizens are asked to remain vigilant, and report any unscheduled distortions of local reality to the appropriate authorities.
Remember, keep your flare guns close at hoof, and remember the correct flare colors for each emergency: red for crimes-in-progress, yellow for accident or injury, blue for improperly implemented extreme weather, mauve for unwelcome thoughts, and green for spiders.
In happier news, Ponyville Community Radio is now accepting applications for our internship program. Application forms can be picked up from our offices at the west end of Market Square, or from any of our sponsor businesses around Ponyville. Applications should be submitted using the usual ritual, the ashes and candles necessary for which can always be obtained from the nameless hooded figure, under the bridge, in the dead of night. Interviews of applicants will be held next week.
The Ponyville Friends of the Sky would like issue a statement, regarding the recent alteration of the night sky above our lovely city. They state emphatically that this change was unscheduled and in no way connected to the recent opening of the Ponyville Observatory and Planetarium. They remind the community that the Observatory is already facing enough trouble attracting stargazers while dealing with a complete lack of stars, and note that the removal of the only source of nighttime illumination can only result in further decreased revenues. Additionally, they would like to ask at this time for pegasus volunteers to take to the skies above the Observatory while carrying lanterns of intriguing colors, to add a bit of life to night now as cold and dead as the abyss. Community assistance in this matter is appreciated.
Applejack (you know, the farmer) reports that a strange howling has been troubling her orchards over the past few days. She says that it echoes down from the mountains, shrieking loud and piercing over the little hills of our little city. She says that her trees tremble when they hear it, and that the soil around their trunks is curiously disturbed, as if they were attempting to uproot themselves, and run away. She says that the sunsets were never this loud before. She says that her sister has been keeping notes of everything she says in a notebook, and then hurrying away privately to the scrying circle behind the barn.
Foals, right? Whether it's a school project or a new pet or reporting their family for heresy, they get so into things. It's adorable, it really is.
And now a question for you, listeners: are you happy? Do you wake each morning full of the promise of a new day? Or do you wake before the dawn, to sheets that are cold, despite the fact that they have spent all night tangled around your warm bones? Do you shrink from the cold, and the silver light of our glorious moon? Do you draw into yourself, and find darkness there, waiting for you? Do you feel the weight of it, pressing on your ribs, your lungs, your heart? In that moment, all alone, do you feel happy? Or do you feel afraid?
If you do: that's what it means to be alive. And you had better get used to it.
This has been Community Tips for a Healthy Lifestyle.
Okay, listeners, you'll never guess who just called into the studio: Twilight Sparkle! That's right, Twilight the magician, with her silken voice and perfect mane, called to offer the magical perspective on the recent departure of light from our night sky. She said the occasional disappearance of the moon is no cause for alarm, and in fact occurs as regularly as once a month in most of Equestria. She said that an eternal, unchanging moon is far more unusual than an occasional night of absolute darkness. She said that she is eager to study our sky, and divine its mysteries. She said that she's not sure of the reason for the sudden, change but that she and her team would look into it.
And, most important of all, listeners, your humble reporter was able to actually speak to her this time! I was able to say “hello,” and ask her how she was doing, and even make a few interested noises while she was explaining that whole thing with the moon. I didn't make it quite as far as “goodbye,” or any actual questions, but still. Progress!
Oh, my.
Listeners... oh, listeners! Outside the studio window, there is a strange glow, over the roofs of Ponyville! It outlines the sign of Pinkie Pie's Bakery and Arcade Fun Complex, and its color... it is a little like the glow of morning sun on wheat fields, and a little like lantern-light on rough seas, and I have to say that there is more than a hint of the color of secrets whispered into a mirror. But now it is rising, listeners, rising into the sky, and...
It has returned to us, Ponyville. Our moon has returned to the sky.
Well, I assume that's the moon we all know. It's about the right size, certainly, but it is certainly much redder. Well: I for one am simply happy to have some light back in our sky. Thanks to Twilight and her team for returning the moon—or some moon, at least—to its proper place. And with that—reddish, it is true—light shining down on us all, all I have left to say is:
Good night, Ponyville. Good night.
Proverb: Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. The fire must be lit if the ritual is to be completed by dawn.
