A light pink earth-pony mare trotted down the hard-packed dirt road, a thoughtful smile on her face. She was on her way to her first day at her new job, voicing a bi-monthly radio podcast to the happy citizens of Ponyville. Of course, if they weren't happy, they may find themselves subjugated to the forcible administrations of one Pinkamina Diane Pie, colloquially referred to as Pinkie Pie.
The mare trotted up the front steps of the radio station, blowing a few wayward strands of light blonde hair out of her face as she stopped at the door. She pounded on the door twice, paused, then tapped it six times. The mare smiled as the door opened, revealing a beige stallion with an hour-glass cutie-mark.
"Good evening, Mr. Whooves!" She said cheerfully, flashing a friendly grin at the tired-looking stallion.
"Is it really, Ms. 'Cast?" he asked cryptically, and more than a little irritably, as he shifted to the side, letting the mare through, before slamming the door shut.
Podcast gave Time Turner Whooves a slight frown, before heading to the stairs to her right.
As she climbed the steps, she heard a panicked screech of terror as something tackled Mr. Whooves.
"SMILE!" the Terror of Sugar Cube Corner ordered as she shoved cupcakes into Turner's face.
Podcast picked up her pace, lest she be given similar administrations.
When she arrived at the second floor, which required climbing precisely two hundred and sixteen steps, she walked down a hallway that she knew was far longer than the station pretended to be, and opened the third door on her right. Inside was a small work station, as well as a recording studio in the rear. No windows provided release from the dungeon of a room, but the clouded glass of her door allowed her to make out the shadowy figures that passed by her door.
Podcast made her way into the recording booth, finding a small stack of papers next to a microphone on a table situated in the middle of the room. Podcast hopped onto the swivel chair near the microphone, giving it a few experimental spins to make sure it worked properly. After all, a swivel chair that doesn't spin well is a swivel chair that needs to be punished for its crimes against ponykind.
Satisfied with the spin-ability of her chair, Podcast leaned toward the microphone, pulling it a tick closer, before flicking a button on the base. Smiling, she began her presentation, carefully repeating the words transcribed upon the paper.
"A friendly rural community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep."
"Welcome to Ponyville."
"Hello, listeners."
"To start things off, I've been asked to read this brief notice:"
"The City Council announces the opening of a new Dog Park at the corner of Early and Summerset, near the Quill's and Sofas. They would like to remind everypony that dogs are not allowed in the Dog Park. Ponies are not allowed in the Dog Park," she finished menacingly.
"It is possible you will see Hooded Figures in the Dog Park," she continued.
"Do not approach them. Do not approach the Dog Park."
"The fence is electrified and highly dangerous. Try not to look at the Dog Park, and especially do not look for any period of time at the Hooded Figures. The Dog Park will not harm you."
Podcast discarded the first page, pushing it to the left side of the desk, before beginning on the second page.
"And now, the news."
Podcast paused before continuing, astonishment and a hint of incredulity audible in her silky voice.
"Granny Smith, out in Sweet Apple Acres, says the Angels revealed themselves to her. Said they were ten feet tall, radiant, and one of them was a Zebra. Said they helped her with various household chores. One of them changed a light bulb for her — the porch light. She’s offering to sell the old light bulb, which has been touched by an Angel. It was the Zebra Angel, if that sweetens the pot for anyone. If you’re interested, contact Granny Smith. She’s out in Sweet Apple Acres."
Podcast shifted in her seat before reading the next bit of news on the page, her eyes glued to the picture attached to the bottom of the page by a paperclip.
"A new mare came into town today. Who is she? What does she want from us? Why her perfect and beautiful haircut? Why her perfect and beautiful coat? She says she is a scientist. Well…we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here? And just what does she plan to do with all those breakers and humming electrical instruments in that library she’s renting — the one next to Sugar Cube Corner?"
Podcast nearly lept out of her seat when the Pink Menace rose up from beneath the table and pulled the microphone away from Pod'.
"Nopony does a cupcake like Pinkie Pie. Nopony," she stated menacingly, before sliding the microphone back to 'Cast and disappearing once more under the table. A quick check verified that Pinkie had well and truly vanished.
Shuddering, 'Cast continued.
"Just a reminder to all the parents out there: let’s talk about safety when taking your foals out to play in the quarry and the grassy field. You need to give them plenty of water, make sure there’s a shade tree in the area, and keep an eye on the pegasi colors."
"Are the unmarked pegasi circling the area wearing black skin-tight suits? Probably World Government. Not a good area for play that day."
"Are they blue and purple? That’s the Mayor’s Secret Guard. They’ll keep a good eye on your foals, and hardly ever take one."
"If you see one with a blue coat and a poly-chromatic, rainbow mane, take care to evacuate the area immediately. Our dear Ms. Dash is notorious for accidentally dive bombing random passersby."
"Are they painted with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving? No one knows who those pegasi are, or what they want. Do not play in the area. Return to your home and lock the doors until a Mayor’s Secret Guard leaves a carnation on your porch to indicate that the danger has passed. Cover your ears to blot out the screams."
Podcast cleared her throat, taking a second to administer a scratch to her ear.
"Also remember: Croco-lade is basically soda, so give your kids plain old water and maybe some orange slices when they play."
Podcast frowned as she scanned the next piece of news, continuing with a frown plastered on her face.
"A commercial air-chariot flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear in the Ponyville Elementary gymnasium during hoofball practice, disrupting practice quite badly. The chariot roared through the small gym for only a fraction of a second. And before it could strike any players or structure, it vanished again. This time, apparently, for good."
"There is no word yet on if or how this will affect Ponyville Flutter-Trees’ game schedule, and also if this could perhaps be the work of their bitter rivals, the Canterlot Ghouls."
Angrily, Podcast ranted," Canterlot is always trying to show us up through fancier uniforms, better pre-game snacks, and possibly by transporting a commercial air-chariot into our gymnasium, delaying practice for several minutes at least."
"For shame, Canterlot. For shame."
"That new scientist — we now know she’s named Twilight Sparkle — called a town meeting. She has violet eyes, and teeth like a military cemetery. Her hair is perfect, and we all hate, and despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure."
Podcast cleared her throat again, shaking her head to clear the images of the beautiful mare.
"Granny Smith," she continued," brought caramel apples, which were decent, but lacked salt. She said the Angels had taken her salt for a Godly mission, and she hadn't yet gotten around to buying more."
Podcast looked up when a blue stallion entered the studio, a manila folder in his purple magical aura. The folder was quickly and silently deposited before the mare, before the stallion made a swift exit. Podcast quickly looked through the folder, a smile growing as she looked at the pictures of Twilight taken from what looked like the Cafe.
Podcast smiled as she said," Twilight told us that we are by far the most scientifically interesting community in Equestria, and she had come to study just what is going on around here. She grinned, and everything about her was perfect, and I fell in love instantly."
She frowned as she continued reading the prompt.
"Government agents from a vague yet menacing agency were in the back, watching. I fear for Twilight Sparkle. I fear for Ponyville. I fear for anyone caught between what they know and what they don’t yet know that they don’t know."
Going back to the original papers, 'Cast continued.
"We received a press release this morning. The Ponyville Business Association is proud to announce the opening of the brand new Ponyville Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area. I have been to these facilities myself recently on their invitation, and I can tell you that it is absolutely top of the line and beautiful."
"Sturdy docking areas made from eco-friendly post-consumer material, a boardwalk for pedestrians, and plenty of stands ready for local food vendors and merchants to turn into a bustling public marketplace."
"Now, there is some concern about the fact that, given we are in the middle of the land part of Equestria, there is no actual water at the waterfront. And that is a definite drawback, I agree."
"For instance," Podcast read," the boardwalk is currently overlooking grass and rocks. The Business Association did not provide any specific remedies for this problem, but they assured me that the new harbor would be a big boost to Ponyville nonetheless."
"Maybe wait until a flash flood and head down there for the full waterfront experience," Podcast advised.
"The local chapter of the NMA is selling bumper stickers as part of their fundraising week. They sent the station one to get some publicity. And we’re here to serve the community, so I’m happy to let you all know about it. The stickers are made from good, sturdy vinyl, and they read:"
"Muskets don’t kill people.
It’s impossible to be killed by a muskets.
We are all invincible to bullets and it’s a miracle."
"Stand outside of your front door and shout 'NMA!' to order one."
Another manila folder found itself in front of Podcast, but she couldn't recall when it had appeared in front of her. Opening it, Pod' read the prompt.
"Twilight Sparkle and her team of scientists warn that one of the houses in the new development of Sand Creek, out back of the elementary school, doesn't actually exist."
"'It seems like it exists,' explained Twilight Sparkle and her perfect hair. 'Like it’s just right there when you look at it. And it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not.'"
"But, she says, they have done experiments and the house is definitely not there. At news time, the scientists are standing in a group on the sidewalk in front of the nonexistent house, daring each other to go knock on the door."
Once again returning to her original stack of paper, Podcast discarded the paper she had been reading, even though she was sure there had been more words on the paper several minutes ago.
"A great howling was heard from the Ponyville Post Office yesterday. Postal workers claim no knowledge, although passers-by describe the sound as being a little like a pony soul being destroyed through black magic. A concerned citizen told us that it is speculated that blueberry muffins were involved."
"The Bison tracker — now, I don’t know if you've seen this stallion around. He’s the one that appears to be of maybe Stalliongradian origin, yet wears an Bison headdress out of some racist cartoon and claims to be able to read tracks on well-worn, dirt roads. He appeared on the scene, and swore that he would discover the truth."
"No one responded because it’s really hard to take him seriously in that headdress of his."
Once again, Podcast found a manila folder in front of her, with no indication of who had brought it or how long it had been sitting in front of her. Opening it, Podcast began to read.
"Lights. Seen in the sky above The Hay Burger. Not the glowing sign of The Hay Burger. Something higher, and beyond that. We know the difference. We've caught on to their game. We understand the 'lights above The Hay Burger' game."
"Invaders from another world."
"Ladies and gentlecolts, the future is here, and it’s about 100 feet above the The Hay Burger."
Noticing a second page in the folder, Pod' discarded the first one into the growing pile of paper to her left before continuing.
"Twilight and her scientists at the monitoring station near the railroad say their seismic monitors have been indicating wild seismic shifts — meaning to say that the ground should be going up and down all over the place. I don’t know about you folks, but the ground has been as still as the crust of a tiny globe rocketing through an endless void could be."
"Twilight says that they've double-checked the monitors and they are in perfect working order. To put it plainly, there appears to be catastrophic earthquakes happening right here in Ponyville that absolutely no one can feel."
"Well, submit an insurance claim anyway. See what you can get, right?"
Podcast tossed the folder to her left before getting back to a stack of papers that seemed a whole lot smaller than it should have been.
"Traffic time, listeners."
"Now, Guards are issuing warnings about ghost carts out on the highways, those carts only visible in the distance reaching unimaginable speeds leaving destinations unknown for destinations more unknown. They would like to remind you that you should not set your speed by these apparitions, and doing so will not be considered 'following the flow of traffic.'"
"However, they do say that it’s probably safe to match speed with the mysterious lights in the sky, as whatever entities or organizations responsible appear to be cautious and reasonable drivers."
And now, the weather.
Podcast flicked the switch on the microphone, cutting off her transmission and allowing the disk jockey down the hall play a song of her choice. She hopped off the swivel chair, stretching her legs before yawning loudly.
She stepped out of the studio, trotting over to her desk, where a brown paper bag, which had most definitely not been there when she had first walked in, sat comfortably. She opened it slowly, before peering at the contents. Inside, a plastic bag with three orange slices, a bottle of water, a purple-frosted cupcake, and a small white note-card were waiting. Podcast took them all out, tossing the bag into the nearby wicker trashcan. She sat at her desk, munching on the sugary confectionery, and looked at the card.
It read: We are pleased with your performance. We will continue to observe.
Gulping down the last of the cupcake, Podcast thoughtfully took a sip of water. She had never actually met her employers, as they may or may not be some form of eldritch horror. That they seemed to be enjoying her broadcast so far was good news, indeed.
Twilight Sparkle, donned in a white lab-coat, slammed open the door, nearly causing Podcast to fall out of her chair in disbelief.
The beautiful Twilight Sparkle, there, in her office!
"M-miss Sparkle!" stammered Podcast, blushing hotly.
"W-what brings you here?"
"This can't be right... The readings are all wrong... these materials..." muttered Twilight as she levitated a blinking box covered with wires and tubes around the room, listening to the clicking and chirping of the machine.
"U-um, Ms. Sparkle? C-can I- or rather, w-would you like to-?"
Twilight practically charged into the sound studio, causing the box to emit high pitched shrieks and whistles, particularly when she approached the microphone.
Twilight's face paled, before she bolted from the room, shouting back at Podcast," You have to evacuate the building!"
The door softly clicked closed behind her.
Taking one last sip of water, Podcast walked on back to the studio, where, much to her slowly-disappearing surprise, not only was the stack of papers and folders she had discarded gone, but a new stack of paper awaited her by the microphone. Slipping onto her chair, Podcast noted with glee that someone had taken the pictures of Twilight and left them in a clear plastic bag on the end of the table, a post-it note leaving the message of:
For science.
-Pinkie
Smiling gleefully, Podcast glanced at what she was to read, before flipping the switch and once again allowing her voice to dominate the airwaves.
"Welcome back, listeners."
"The sun didn't set at the correct time today, Twilight and her team of scientists report. They’re quite certain about it. They checked multiple clocks and the sun definitely set ten minutes later than it was supposed to."
"I asked them if they had any explanations but they did not offer anything concrete. Mostly they sat in a circle around a desk clock, staring at it, murmuring, and cooing."
"Still, we must be grateful to have the sun at all. It’s easy to forget in this pony-controlled climate, but things would actually be slightly harder for us without the sun."
"The next time the sun rises, whatever time that turns out to be, take a moment to feel grateful for all the warmth and light and even, yes, extreme heat that our rural community is gifted with."
Podcast was, by now, relatively comfortable with blatantly lying to the general populace about her involvement in any of the stories, though she would have liked to meet Twilight in more than just that one instance...
"The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered Heavens, and the hierarchy of Angels. The reminder is that you should not know anything about this."
"The structure of Tartarus and the organizational chart are privileged information, known only to the City Council members on a need-to-know basis. Please do not speak to or acknowledge any Angels that you may come across while shopping at the Quills and Sophas or at the Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. They only tell lies and do not exist."
"Report all Angel sightings to the City Council for treatment."
"And now a brief public service announcement."
"Alligators: can they kill your children?"
"Yes."
"Even ones without teeth."
"Along those lines, to get personal for a moment, I think the best way to die would be swallowed by a giant snake. Going hoof-first and whole into a slimy maw would give your life perfect symmetry."
"Speaking of the Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex," Podcast continued," its owner, Falling Pin, reports that he has found the entrance to a vast underground city in the pin retrieval area of Lane 5. He said he has not yet ventured into it; merely peered down at its strange spires and broad avenues."
"He also reports voices of a distant crowd in the depths of that subterranean metropolis. Apparently the entrance was discovered when a bowling ball accidentally rolled into it, clattering down to the city below with sounds that echoed for miles across the impossibly huge cavern."
"So, you know, whatever population that city has, they know about us now, and we might be hearing from them very soon."
"Twilight, perfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier but declined to stay for an interview. She had some sort of blinking box in her hoof covered with wires and tubes. Said she was testing the place for 'materials.'"
"I don’t know what materials she meant but that box sure whistled and beeped a lot. When she put it close to the microphone it sounded like, well, like a bunch of baby birds had just woken up. Really went crazy."
"Twilight looked nervous. I've never seen that kind of look on someone with eyes that pretty. She left in a hurry. Told us to evacuate the building. But then, who would be here to talk to sweetly to all of you out there?"
"Settling in to be another clear night and pretty evening here in Ponyville. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. Or, at least, good memories of when you did."
"Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight."
Podcast flicked the switch one last time before smiling, her gaze going towards the bag of pictures.
Yes... For science...
