There she sat, in quiet repose. The seconds passed by as Twilight’s eyes darted from left to right, absorbing information like a sponge. They looked upon an image of themselves: the equine eye. Reflected in them was a mess of nerves and veins, a nearly incomprehensible mess her own veins and nerves struggled to understand.
Eyes are important things. Lose one and everything might as well be a flat projection, lose two and you’ll never function again. Such an essential thing is worth protecting, and we do our best with our goggles and sunglasses and such, but to truly protect them would hinder their function. They are vulnerable, exposed to the outside world, even as our noses and ears are sunk within our bodies, rugged and hard to reach. They are the most important of all our senses. We could still drink without ears and eat without noses, but we would never find these things without our eyes. We are reliant on them more than we would like to think, and like our lives, they are treasured but easily destroyed by someone or something with that purpose in mind.
The unicorn continued reading the book in the dim light, straining to see images a short distance away. Her eyes probably would’ve wanted more light, but they only knew what and not why it was dark. They could not think nor act of their own volition, only give a recommendation to the brain, though at this particular moment her eyes we screaming. They yelled on even though her ears could not hear, her mouth could not understand, and her brain was unaware, distracted by the task before it.
After some time, the pain in her eyes became too much and she squeezed them shut, at last allowing them to rest. When she opened them again, she fumbled for a candle in the low light, at last realizing how dark it had become. The world around her looked hazy and out of focus, but she managed to grab a candle and light it with a quick burst of energy from her horn. The flame bathed the desk in comforting light and filled her nostrils with the smell of melting wax.
But why was it dark? The question filled her mind as she turned to the next page, growing stronger as she resumed her studying. It wasn’t long before she found herself unable to focus on anything but the query. She closed the book and gave into her brain’s desires.
If it’s dark, that means there isn’t as much light, she thought to herself, thinking in rather elementary terms in her daze. That’s obvious. What else? Light comes from the sun, so if there isn’t as much light, something’s covering it.
Twilight turned to the window, and saw it was indeed getting darker.
Just as I expected. I wonder what time it is.
Twilight’s eyes, rejuvenated by the candlelight, darted up to the clock. What they saw when they alighted was confusing. The hands were not moving. For a moment, her whole body tensed as it failed to understand what she was seeing.
She blinked.
When she looked up again, the clock was moving as it should have been. Seeing this, she allowed herself to relax. She turned back to her desk, and put away her book, the clock already slipping from her memory.
Must have been a trick of the light, she realized, pushing out her chair and heading up the stairs. What I need is some sleep.
Twilight awoke the next morning. Her eyes were heavy, weighing themselves down as if they were made of lead. She forced them open and herself out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where she splashed her face with cold water. The shock of the frigid liquid snapped her brain to attention. Gradually, she felt the morning numbness leave her limbs as her body followed suit. It was a new day.
“Good morning, Twilight!”
The words came from the staircase, and when she followed them to their origin she saw her assistant Spike.
How come I didn’t see him last night? Twilight stepping out of the kitchen and into the library. Casually, she shot a quick glance over at the clock. It read seven hours, eleven minutes, and … how many seconds? She wasn’t sure. She looked over again, and the second hand sat above the “9”.
She blinked.
When she opened her eyes, the hand passed the fifty second mark, moving as if it had never stopped.
“Spike, I think there’s something wrong with our clock. It keeps stopping every so often.”
The dragon, who now stood at Twilight’s side, followed her line of vision to the object in question. He looked up at it for a while, but wasn’t impressed.
“It doesn’t look like it’s doing it anymore, but it can’t hurt to bring it to the clocksmith, right?”
Twilight looked up at the clock curiously, waiting for it to repeat it’s unexplained stoppage. When it didn’t, she looked down at Spike and nodded. Without another word, he fetched the ladder, moving it from it’s usual place on the bookshelves over to the clock. As he took it down, Twilight ate a quick breakfast and packed herself something for lunch—an apple in her eye.
“Spike, I’m heading out. Now, once you deliver the clock I want to come right you back here, understand?”
Spike nodded, holding in front of him the clock, which was about as wide as his claws could reach.
“Good. I’ll see you later today.”
Twilight headed out the door to do what she’d done time and time again since moving to Ponyville: buy food at the market, quills at Davenport’s, and parchment at the post office, all the while hoping one of her friends would come along to distract her from her mundane routine. Thankfully, they often did, though today wasn’t one of those days.
Perhaps they’re all inside. It does look like rain today.
With nothing else to do at the moment, Twilight aimlessly wandered through the market, eventually ending up in the center, where Lily sold her flowers. There was a little sign commemorating the founding of the market, and some flyers for the occasional tourist. Above the sign there was a clock, which Twilight looked at.
She blinked.
Did that clock stop like the one at home?
“Hello, Ms. Sparkle. How are you doing this morning?”
The voice startled Twilight, who turned to see the pony behind the stand looking at her with amused curiosity. Twilight stuttered.
“I can’t help but wonder what you were staring at just now,” the mare continued.
“Oh, hello Lily. It was nothing, I was just—”
“No need to explain yourself, Twilight. I know how mornings can be.”
Twilight sighed. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t finished waking up yet. You seem pretty alert, though.”
“Believe me, it’s only an illusion.” She chuckled. “Now, is there anything I could interest you in while you’re here? Something for lunch, maybe?”
Twilight thought about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind a sandwich right about now. What do you recommend?”
“Well, you know what my favorite flower is,” she said, gesturing to her cutie mark, “but I wouldn’t go for that unless you like having your stomach pumped. I’ve got Daisies, Violets, Geraniums …”
“The geraniums look good.” Twilight cut in. “I’ll take half a dozen.”
“Good choice,” Lily replied, grabbing the stems in her mouth. “That’ll be three bits.”
Twilight grabbed the coins from her saddlebags, carrying them in a magical aura and dropping them on the stand.
“I take it you’ll be getting some quills later today, correct?”
“I hate to think I’m that predictable, but yes, I will be.”
“Well, tell Davey he still need to pay me back the thirty bits he owes me. I’ve been waiting for two weeks.”
Twilight smiled. “I’ll be sure to. Have a nice day.”
With that, Twilight went on her way, careful to avoid looking at the clock as she left. The purchase had been a nice diversion, but her unease followed her still. She floated through the rest of her shopping, taking the opportunity to reflect.
Why am I so afraid to look at the clock? she wondered as she bought her eggs. It’s clearly my mind playing tricks on me. It’s not as if two different clocks could malfunction in the same way at the same time. The odds of that kind of parallel event are next to none.
Twilight walked up to the baker's stand to buy her bread. You know what, I’m going to look right at the next clock I see and put this all to rest.
She flipped the pony two bits for the loaf and walked off, heading towards her next destination with renewed confidence. The streets were mostly vacant at this time, and sun had not yet fully risen, casting somber silhouettes of buildings across the dusty walkways. The farther she walked from the marketplace, the quieter it grew, until at last the only noise was the light patting of her hooves against the ground.
She traveled in silence for a time, but gradually a new noise began to assert itself; a staccato tone rhythmically pulsing from somewhere ahead. It was joined by more and more noises, until a cacophony of ticks and tocks finally broke her will. Her ears followed the noises and her eyes saw circles, lines, and numbers, all frozen as if the air around them had turned to ice. Her eyes stared deep into them for an infinite second, willing those lines to turn, to break free of their imprisonment and continue as they should have, but they did not listen.
Twilight blinked.
The clocks, all lined up in the window of the shop, continued, hands moving as if they had never stopped.
Did they ever stop?
Twilight’s mind whirled to find some sort of explanation, something logical that could explain all of this, but came up with nothing. Twilight walked on in a daze, her hooves toppling over each other as if they had lost the will to hold her up. Her head pounded in rhythm with the clocks, even as she drew farther and farther away.
I just don’t care how far.
The once sharp images of Ponyville blurred together and her eyes burned.
At least it will melt the ice.
She could taste something in the air, something nauseating, and her tongue willed her lips to close. Her head told her it was dangerous but her brain didn’t listen. Her whole body marched to the unending beat, not stopping, not sensing, not understanding. The pulse spoke to her and she, in return, kept time.
Three hundred and thirty pulses passed, and she saw something else moving against the blur. It was colorful and sharp; it tasted awful.
“Twilight, are you alright?"
“I’ve got to stand at her back. I don’t care what I got to do.”
“What?”
“I don’t know the reason why!”
“Twilight, you’re scaring me.”
Her ears picked up the noises. They came from the blur, beating against her eardrums like a buck to the head. She covered her ears, but the noises only grew louder, attacking relentlessly until her body gave in and her brain fell into darkness.
There was a noise. She didn’t know what it was at first, but gradually it grew louder. This noise didn’t attack her, in fact it was actually quite pleasant. It had a smooth, musical quality she couldn’t quite place. It sounded like an organ early on, though as it continued to grow clearer she realized it was actually the muffled voice of a pony. Something was in the way, but she didn’t know what.
“Mm mmm mmf mm mm mf mmf.”
She strained her ears, trying desperately to understand, but could not. She refocused her efforts on finding out what was keeping her from hearing the voices. She opened her eyes, and saw a soft, white surface. It looked like someone had tacked pillows onto the wall, but those were not what was keeping her from hearing. She opened her lips to speak, but something was in the way. She reached a hoof up to her mouth, and touched something leathery and cold. It ran across her muzzle and up around her head. It covered, among other things, her ears.
Gotcha.
Twilight violently ripped the object from her face in a burst of magical energy, burning something that had been fitted over her horn and singing her coat in the process. As she screamed in pain, she heard the other voices grow as loud. She turned towards them and saw something colorful and sharp. It was familiar, thought Twilight couldn’t remember why. There was another thing there too, a pony she didn’t recognize, who spoke first.
“I wish I had more to tell you. We don’t know much about what caused her to snap, and until she starts speaking coherently, we won’t learn anything new.”
“Do you think she’ll ever be better?” The familiar one asked.
The other one moved his head up and down for some reason. “She will with time. Unfortunately, there’s no way to tell how long it will take. We don’t even know the cause of her condition, so there’s little we can—”
“She doesn’t have a condition!” This came from the sharp one. For some reason, their eyes were raining. “She’s just having some trouble, that’s all.”
The stranger put their hoof on the familiar one’s shoulder. “Look, I know this must be very difficult for you, but at some point you’re going to have to accept what’s happened here. Ms. Sparkle is suffering from psychosis, and if she’s going to have any chance of getting better, she’s going to need your help.”
The sharp one wiped the rain from his face. “Yeah, I know. I just … I want her back.”
“Of course you do, and we’re doing everything we can to help her. Right now, she needs time more than anything else.”
The colorful one looked into her eyes, and Twilight looked back. It seemed like they were trying to tell her something, but it and the words they were speaking were lost on her. After a while, they broke off their gaze and looked back at the stranger.
“I don’t know how long I can wait. It’s already been two weeks and I can barely stand it as it is.”
“It is going to be difficult, but someday she’ll be better. You’ll see.”
The sharp one sighed. “I wish I could talk to her, or at least be with her, without all this in the way.” They ran their claw along the glass pane in front of them, leaving a scratch in the clear surface.
“You and I both know that’s not possible.” The other one adjusted his lab coat. “We just saw her burn through the most powerful magic buffer we have available. If she wanted to leave that room, she’d probably make it pretty far before we stopped her.”
The familiar one didn’t speak, looking into the chamber distantly.
“If you want to be alone, I’ll leave.”
The colorful one nodded, and after gathering up a few things, the stranger left the room. Her visitor was silent for a long while, and when they finally spoke, they seemed to have trouble doing it.
“I just don’t understand, Twilight. One minute you send me off to fix the clock and the next time I see you, you collapse in the middle of the street … It’s lonely in the library now. Sure, everypony tried to keep me company, but I don’t feel right knowing you’re here in Canterlot, locked up in some cage. Heck, they had to put me on medication just so I could sleep right!”
They paused for a moment. Their eyes were raining again.
“You know, everypony else is here. We waited for a while to see if you’d wake up, but they’ve probably left by now. They’re all worried about you, Twilight … I’m worried about you. Can’t you just say something? Anything? Even if it’s more of the nonsense about the clocks, just say something!”
Twilight stared back at him, not understanding his words or even knowing she should be trying to understand. Her mind was blank, and her face reflected it. Unable to look anymore, her visitor squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the raindrops. Without another word, they left the room.
A few minutes later, the stranger came back in. They sat at the table and wrote some things in a notebook. They looked at her like the familiar one had, but there was something different about the way they did it, as if they were gazing through her, not at her. They mumbled to himself as they worked. Though wall muffled most of it, she heard something about genetic disposition, but the meaning went over her head. The pony left as quickly as they had entered, leaving the table clear and the room empty.
As the silence grew more and more deafening, Twilight began to miss the visitors, whoever they were. They made noise. Noise was better than quiet.
With little else to do, Twilight looked around the room through the glass. The table was surrounded by some chairs and the walls were a light shade of teal. They were bare except for a single object, hanging close to the ceiling on the opposite side of the room. She couldn’t hear it but she knew it could make a noise, at least when it was working.
She blinked.
The clock remained frozen, it’s hands stuck between numbers which had lost their meaning. Time had, for all intents and purposes, stopped, leaving her behind as it carried the rest of the world from sunrise to sunset and back again. Each second the clock didn’t tick was a second she lost and could never make up. She was alone, her only company what she would touch, what she could hear, and what she could see.
The eyes are, after all, such marvelous things. The define our existence and give us unending joy. With them we appreciate the beauty of art, of nature, and of that special someone you hold closest to your heart. But as great as they are, sometimes they deceive. In the end, the only time you can trust your eyes is where there is nothing left to see.
There she sat, in quiet repose.
Nothing was there to be seen.
