Artifact

by dead acc

Rating: everyone
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life, Sad, Equestria Girls
Length: 1441

Twilight Sparkle records her own voice on reel-to-reel tape as a personal letter, sending it into the future via time capsule. Today, on her sixty-ninth birthday, Twilight responds to a message she received from herself on her thirty-ninth birthday.

Twilight Sparkle records her own voice on reel-to-reel tape as a personal letter, sending it into the future via time capsule. Today, on her sixty-ninth birthday, Twilight responds to a message she received from herself on her thirty-ninth birthday.

Based on Krapp's Last Tape, a one-act play written by Irish playwright Samuel Beckett.

Published 2016-02-29 00:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-02-29 00:50:01 UTC

Twilight's Last Tape

Her living room, intimate, was awash with a sensual feeling of comfort only strengthened by the pleasant heat emanating from the decaying fireplace. It flickered and danced, projecting mysterious shadows onto the wooden bookshelves, the out-dated furniture, the personal mementos, and the weary, bone-tired old woman, illuminating the space in a dark amber glow. The only sounds heard in the temperature-tight place were the gentle crackling of the burning firewood and the soft clicking of the reel-to-reel tape machine being put into place for operation. The elder, Twilight Sparkle, hummed an age-old melody to herself quietly, as she hooked her silvery-grey hair behind her ears and re-positioned herself on her leather armchair. A table sat next to her, a large, dusty and fragile cardboard box on top, full of reel-to-reel spools, all marked with various numbers and dates. She sifted shakily through the box, searching for the tape she made last.

"Thirty-nine, spool three, thirty-nine, spool three, ah, here we are..."

The softly-wrinkled skin around her lips curled up into a tender smile. Taking a quivering breath to prepare her mind and soul, she inserted the reel, locking it into place, before starting the long-ignored audio recording with a click of the play button. A moment of mechanical whirring passed, the all-too-familiar tape fizz fading in abruptly, as her youthful voice from a bygone era began to play on the speakers, furnished with attenuated high-and-low frequencies, headroom exceeding, with an overall whitewash of hiss and crackle - a very noticeable degradation from being in a box for thirty years.

"Greetings, Future Twi! Thirty-nine today. Healthy-as-ever. Fit-as-a-fiddle, if you don't mind the heavily outdated saying, ha-ha. Well, straight to business this time. I'm happy. I know that may be somewhat difficult to believe, but I feel I am saying that for myself for once, rather than to simply satisfy others. Currently, it is a rather electric spring evening, on a Wednesday, the setting sun is piercing light through my glass window, and I must say, it's quite romantic. I hope you remember the sight, it's absolutely beautiful. The living room in which I record this is filled with that musk of aging books that between us is well-known, a simple, nostalgic scent. It puts me at ease, at rest. I feel safe."

A pause entered the audio diary, the only sounds being the surface noise of the machine and the vibrant fire roaring brightly. A breath of hesitation.

"I listened to the tape from my twenty-ninth birthday a few minutes ago. Hard to believe I was ever that common young girl. The voice! And the aspirations! Ha-ha! And the resolutions, to focus on her lasting friendships and to reduce her wine intake, in particular."

The older and younger Twilight's shared a moment of mirth, the irony of the situation not going unappreciated. Another moment of comfortable silence.

"To return to the easygoing irresponsibility of youth... I remember the miserable existence I led at Crystal Prep. I don't even want to imagine how my life would have progressed if I didn't meet the girls... those years at Canterlot High were the best of my life. When we left school we made vows to stick together, which most of us kept. Most. We're all so busy now, carried away with the responsibilities of adulthood and it's ilk. We still know how to have a good time, though, don't you worry about that. The occasion of my birthday today will probably be spent drinking wine and reading books. The girls have plans set in motion for me, I'm sure of it, but tonight, it's just me. It would definitely be better spent if Spike was here, I miss him dearly. I can feel Mom watching over me, this night in particular her presence is strong."

The tape fuzz rung throughout the living space.

"There's not much to say about my life right now. Busy, busy, busy. Work is time and energy consuming. The sun has finally set, basking my current room in an eerie nightlight glow. I wish you were here to see it. I would pour you a glass of red, but I don't know of your circumstances. Ah, I almost forgot. My resolutions until the next tape are..."

The sound of rustling paper rung out through the speakers.

"Okay, here. One, to appreciate unnoticed beauty more often, two, to cut down on dangerous experiments in the lab, three, to try and get on better with my co-workers... and four, to explore the rest of the world, with my best friends at my side.

The muffled sound of books being moved filled the space between the night-air and the magnetic tape.

"Ah, I've been rambling away for too long. Here's to you, Future Twi. Drink up for me, will you? I'm leaving a bottle of Pinot Noir in your hidden bookshelf compartment, let it ripen up for a few years or so, and promise me something. That you will never forget the Golden Age, and to let our recording's be an artifact of that. Farewell."

The voice faded abruptly, leaving the room ghostly quiet. Twilight took a few moments to ingest the message, before chuckling, heartily and healthily. She had drunk said wine bottle only a week after making that message. Removing the spool from the machine, she dug through the box once again, looking for a virgin reel. She soon found it, and fixed it into place. Taking hold of the small microphone she cleared her throat, preparing to speak.

Click.

"I just heard the voice of my favourite version of my self, thirty-nine years of age. She seemed world-weary, mature, but also harbouring a youthful enthusiasm, which is superb to have never lost. She offered me a thirty-year old glass of wine, that I wish I could take."

"Perhaps my best years are behind me. No, that's unhealthy talk, if I start thinking like that I'll be miserable for the rest. Past regrets have the power to kill a woman. I spent my birthday today much in the same way as I spent it on my thirty-ninth, drinking wine and reading books in my living room. Ah, this place. So many memories, they live on in the walls. They speak a language only I can hear. The world may have changed, but this house never has. At least to me, anyway. I'll make sure to drink to my past-self, but as of right now, I am all out of red, ha-ha."

A soft pause appeared and soaked into the tape, as the elderly woman readjusted the hook of hair behind her ears.

"You will get to travel, don't worry, it's not long after your twenty-ninth birthday. It'll be the greatest time of your adult years, cherish and appreciate it. I only have one resolution until next time, and that's to stop worrying about self-improvement via resolutions I record for myself on magnetic tape." She laughed warmly, and continued speaking.

"The toastiness of the fireplace is welcoming, it's actually making me quite sleepy. I wish you were here to feel it, Twilight, it's beautiful. The girls would love it too. Remember all those countless sleep-overs? Were we would play silly games, and gossip about school-related nonsense... I can still remember that like it was yesterday. What I would do to have one more slumber-party. Anyway, they say brevity is the soul of wit, so I must keep this message short. I'll drink to you, Twilight. I'm placing another bottle of Pinot Noir in the secret compartment, this time I will keep my promise, and not drink it a week later, ha-ha. Here's to our health, and to the Golden Age, let's cherish it's memory together, forever.

The machine was turned off, the spool marked with a slice of scotch tape and a permanent marker. Spool 4, sixty-ninth. Placed in, and taped up, not to be opened for another number of years. Deep down, a weight laid in Twilight's stomach, telling her that her experiment in time was over.

I am the daughter of the future
25 years from now, I think
try recalling the Golden Age
when we heard these words for the first time
Please come back to the exact spot we're at
we're speaking right now
Never forget the Golden Age
Doncha hear that this song is forever
Never forget the Golden Age
Notice it didn't remain as remembered
Never forget the Golden Age
A quarter century from now
Never forget the Golden Age
It never used to make you sad
but now you lost what you never knew you had
This is an artifact of that