Celestia Calls Customer Services
With a growl, Her Serene Highness Princess Helia Flora Belladona Celestia, Guardian of Equestria, first recorded bearer of The Elements of Harmony, Class 1 Accredited Mage and three-times winner of the Canterlot Beauty Contest's 'Most Vibrant Mane' Award hurled a piece of wood at a priceless 300-year-old vase. It broke. "Good," she thought, a satisfied smile crossing her lips for the first time in over an hour-and-a-half.
Sighing, she flicked a spell over to repair the hideous thing and levitated the wood - namely Piece 28B of the Do-it-yourself Super-Easy Flatpack Luxury Bookcase she'd spent most of the previous evening levitating home from the city - back over to herself. She'd been put out to discover after buying the flatpack that teleporting it would invalidate the warranty. Anyone she'd asked why this was the case replied something along the lines of "I don't make the rules," and she'd started to suspect that the rules were naturally-occuring. She'd also given the servants the afternoon off. She'd therefore had to move the bulky object herself (via levitation) through the streets of Canterlot. This had proven tricky - she'd inadvertently scheduled her furniture shopping trip to clash with a minor festival (come to think of it, that was why she'd given the servants the afternoon off - princesses are usually far too busy to think about things like that), and on her way back to the castle she'd had to stop and apologise for the hovering flatpack snapping twelve strings of bunting, knocking over three trees, and causing a candyfloss-stall owner to end up with an entirely new hair-do. Celestia had tried extremely hard not to think of Pinkie Pie while saying sorry to him. Thankfully, most ponies were fairly keen to apologise to her - even when something was clearly her fault. It's tough at the top.
She glared at Piece 28B. It leered back. She could tell it was meant to slot into Piece 28A. Any mule could tell you that, as the instructions made it crystal clear. What wasn't made clear was how. Piece 28A was a solid plank of wood. It was about ten hooves long, was made of good quality oak, and had a pleasing finish. And no slots. There was no apparent way of connecting the two.
There came a knock on the door of her room - rat-tat-a-tat-tat - tat-tat. The secret knock. "Password," she called half-heartedly.
"Scorpan," came Luna's voice from outside.
"Pass, friend."
Luna stepped inside. "In quadruple figures and still playing foals' games?" she teased.
Celestia turned and smiled. "Only because I know how disappointed you'd be if I forgot the ritual."
"You know, I was a little surprised when you chose that password - but then I guess it makes sense, Scorpan being your first crush, and all."
"He was not! How many times must we have this..." began Celestia, but she trailed off, nonplussed by Luna's fit of giggles. She went back to the instructions.
"Doing woodwork at 10 in the morning?" inquired Luna, noticing the various bits of wood that were strewn across her sister's bedchamber.
"A little..."
Luna chuckled. "When will you learn, 'Tia? You're a very gifted mare, but nopony's perfect. Those flatpacks defeat you every time." She put a comforting hoof on Celestia's shoulder, which her sister irritably brushed away.
"This time will be different, I can assure you. Even if this one is..." she shuddered, "particularly fiendish."
"Why not just try an assembly spell? Too proud?"
"It did cross my mind. Try it."
Accordingly, Luna gathered her thoughts and began to weave a basic spell pattern. Her horn throwing its eerie moonglow over the instructions, she cast. The spell darted from her horn towards the pile of wood, but, just before it made contact, came skidding to a halt. It paused, as though surveying the task at hoof, then grew smaller, and smaller and smaller, until finally with a gentle , it vanished Luna pulled a face. Celestia smirked. Luna reflected that being smirked at by Celestia was probably the worst sensation in the world. She very rarely smirked, being the Princess of the Sun, and all, so when she did it was as though a couple of months' worth of smirk were being released.
Luna tried again. The same thing happened, except that instead of shrinking, the magic plasma audibly gulped in terror, and then burst then and there. Growling, the princess drew on all the magical reserves she had in her. The room got about five degrees colder as Luna absorbed additional energy from her surroundings, and her pupils shrank as every ounce of mana in her body was focused on the bookcase-to-be. The magic leapt eagerly from her horn, crackling with pride. It swam round and round the wood, assessing the situation.
"There you are," said Luna, happily. "It will complete its task directly."
"I hate to rain on your parade, sister dear, but it's taking a very long time." This was true. The magic was still circling the miniture construction site, and its crackle was starting to sound a little more trepidatious than proud. It span more and more slowly, now emitting little more than a terrified fizz, until its nerve snapped, and it ran as fast as its kremm would carry it towards the only home it knew.
Luna had never had one of her spells leap back down her horn before. As she shakily picked herself up, she decided that this was the worst sensation in the world. It was rather like being smacked in the face with a ton of spikey lead walnuts. Celestia smirked. Luna decided she'd been right the first time, and that the smirk was the worst sensation.
"Now you know why I look so dishevelled," said Celestia, knowing full-well that she didn't look remotely dishevelled.
"Nonsense," Luna reassured her, "you do not look any more dishevelled than usual."
"Now, Luna. Let's not turn this into another game of point-scoring. You know how the last one ended." Though the moon was well below the horizon, both alicorns glanced awkwardly in its direction.
"You are right, 'Tia. My apologies."
"And mine."
The two surveyed the wreckage silently for a moment. Luna was the first to speak:
"I only came this way to bid you farewell before I set off to Cloudsdale for the Feathervales' cloud-warming." The Feathervales were probably the most influential pegasus family in Equestria, and it was a necessary, though daunting, task to keep them happy by attending their larger parties - and this would be one of their largest yet, for they had hired an impressive team of architects, including the great Proudhoof McCloudskey, to sculpt them a 300-room mansion about four avian miles outside Cloudsdale.
"Oh, is that today?" asked Celestia, trying to sound an nonchalant as possible in order to disguise the fact that she had forgotten all about it.
"No," sighed Luna, with a roll of her eyes, "It is not until tomorrow, but the Feathervales positively insisted that all the most important guests try out a bedroom each the night before and after, so I shall not return until the day after tomorrow."
"Well well, you seem to be becoming quite the party pony!"
"But everypony expects me to be as scary as possible. And to speak in iambic pentameter."
"You used to do that all the time."
"I am out of practice. There is little call for verse-drama on the moon."
"I'm quite sure you'll cope."
"And I, sister, am quite sure that you will not," countered Luna.
"I admit I am experiencing a minor setback," said Celestia, as calmly as she could, "but I promise you that I will have completed this bookcase by the time you return home."
"Do you expect me to believe a promise made by our nation's leader? I wasn't born yestercentury."
"I really do mean it."
"Very well. If you don't have it finished by the time I return, shall we say that you will personally attend, in my place, every party to which I am invited over the next month?"
Celestia shuddered. "Nice try. What do I get out of it?"
Luna chuckled. "'Tia, if you put together that physicist's nightmare, I solemly swear that I will never again mention, hint at or allude to that story about you sneezing the Breezy ambasaddor into the middle of his welcome cake."
Various memories of Luna holding audiences spellbound with her relation of that particular tale were enough to convince the princess. "I accept," she said, and then wished she hadn't.
"Huzzah!" grinned Luna, and before Celestia could negotiate, she vanished in a puff of smug smoke.
Celestia pondered her predicament. She could see she wasn't making much headway with her shelves, anyway. So there wasn't much point in getting straight back to them, was there? No. Better to have a nice relaxing cup of tea first. And when she'd done that, then she would crack on with the assembly.
Six cups of tea, four quiches and a bakewell tart later, Celestia sauntered back into the room, being careful to keep a sharp lookout in case anypony saw her sauntering. She surveyed the various plank-shaped lumps of wood and smaller screw-shaped lumps of metal. Although she'd locked the door behind her, she could have sworn somepony had been in and rearranged the pieces into an even less logical order. Or maybe they'd been that way to begin with. It really wasn't easy to tell.
She levitated two pieces of wood, and bashed them together. Nothing happened. She set down one of the pieces, chose another, and bashed it against the first piece. Still nothing. Five bashes later, she gave up on this line of enquiry altogether.
So she went back to the instructions. Ugh. They would have given a cubist nightmares. She browsed through them, waiting for inspiration to strike. It didn't, though she got right through the book, right to the last page. She was a little surprised that there was a last page; she'd sort of assumed that they went on forever, spiraling into an infinity of despair and screwdrivers. But on that last page was something that gave her new hope.
Lost? Confused? Bewildered?
You needn't be!
We have all the answers - and more!
As a company with the responsibility to deliver high-quality, low-cost furniture, with a wide array of options, choices and alternatives, our customers sometimes find that our assembly-direction documentation can be a little hard to understand. We're here to help because we love you a lot! Our exclusive helpline, ponied 24 hours a day, is completely free to all our customers! We're happy to answer every single question you have without any difficulty and minimal waiting times.
So don't delay - call right away!
On: 08.
Please note that due to the subjective nature of the word 'free', some disappointment is inevitable. Erratum: for 'day' read 'week'. We will answer all your questions except when we do not. Waiting times are minimal as compared to the vastness of space-time. Store in a cool, dry place and consume within 6 months of purchase. Never eat yellow snow. All hail the big talking bird. By reading this paragraph you invalidate the warranty. Keep away from foals. They're annoying.
Celestia squinted to read the last paragraph, but it was no good. Well, she reasoned, it couldn't be all that important, or they'd have written it bigger. But what was all this 'Call us now" stuff? She gazed blankly at the numbers: 08. Then she remembered. She looked up and stared around the room, looking for- ah, there it was! Sitting neatly on a small table in the corner was a vaugely triangular red box, about the size of a smallish duck. Resting across the top was a sort of mouthpiece thing. On the front was a dial with numbers round the side. The- the- . Celestia hurried to her desk and pulled out the letter that had accompanied it.
Your Majesty,
It is with great pleasure that I deliver to you my latest, greatest invention: the telephone! It is my firm belief that this will revolutionise the world of communication. To explain, words spoken into the mouthpiece are converted into light-
-Celestia skipped the next three paragraphs.-
I have sent a number of these units to large businesses and significant dignitaries, in the hope of greatly increasing trade and diplomatic cooperation within our proud nation. I eagerly await your response.
Yours in Science,
Professor Crater Mash
Celestia hoped Professor Mash knew what he was doing. His Moon-rocket scheme hadn't proved particularly successful, after all. In fact, they still hadn't filled in the crater. Still, she didn't see how this could go wrong, though she struggled to get her tongue round the name. She read it aloud. "Tel-eff-on-y." Sounded about right. She decided to give it a try. Presumably, then, she just had to use the dial to call the number.
The dial was made of thick plastic with small holes over the numbers. These proved impossible to get her hooves into. As she turned the dial with her magic, she reminded herself to explain to Crater Mash the benefits of function versus aesthetics. She raised the receiver to her face and waited. There was a steady pulsating sound coming from the earpiece. It was... disconcerting, and reminded her a little too much of a heartbeat. "Hello?" she asked cautiously. Nothing. Then there came a click, and a voice from the other end.
"HelloJackpotAssemblyIncorporatedhowcanIhelpyoutoday?" it said.
Celestia was silent for a second or two while she decoded the remark. Eventually, she replied "Good afternoon. I wish to speak with somepony regarding the assembly of a bookshelf I recently-"
"Okaythat'sfinewouldyoumindwaitingforjustaminutewhileIconnectyoutoourassemblydepartmenttoday?"
"Um..." then the line went dead. Celestia was about to put the phone down and try again when she heard a new voice. It wasn't very clear, as though it were speaking through several layers of tissue paper, but it certainly sounded... cultured. And feminine. Very feminine.
"Hello," said the voice, sounding like melting chocolate as heard from the wrong side of a waterfall, "we're sorry to keep you waiting."
"That's quite alright," began Celestia, but to her astonishment the voice carried on talking over the top of her!
"We are undergoing an unusally high volume of inbound calls today," it continued in tones comparable to heavily-distorted crushed velvet, "but rest assured that we are working to connect you to a member of our service team as quickly as possible."
"I'm glad to hear-"
"We are grateful for your patience," announced the Voice, syllables trickling like fine wine into a glass made of coconut matting. "In the meantime, here is some music."
"Excuse me, I'm trying-"
But the beautiful unclear rude Voice had gone, and in its place came...
Now, it wasn't that Celestia was a fussy mare. She was quite proud of her ability to take the rough with the smooth, as it were, and to remain unflappable in even the direst of circumstances. But she had been promised music. What she got was...
Celestia did a lot of visits. It was part of her job. And many of those visits were to schools. And lots of those schools had foals' choirs. So she was used to hearing pretty awful music, and having to smile and applaud at the end. In fact, she was convinced she had heard more or less the worst music in the word. At least, she had been convinced of that, until she heard...
After about two minutes of the 'jingle-jangle-jongle' coming out of the earpiece, Celestia was frankly delighted to welcome back the Voice in all its fluid, fuzzy glory. She was not particularly suprised when it began "Hello. We're sorry to keep you waiting. We are undergoing an unusally high volume of inbound calls today..."
"What a terrible abuse of voice recording technology," she said to herself. Celestia gazed longingly back at the pile of wood. It seemed almost inviting now. At least with the wood she knew she wasn't getting any closer to her goal.
It took three cycles of music and Voice for her to be connected, and when she was it was to another recording. Obviously. This one was different, though. Gone were the silky smooth tones of her beloved Voice. "We. Apologise. For. The. Delay. We. Have. Been. Experiencing. An. Unusually. High. Volume. Of. Inbound. Calls. Today. If. You. Have. A. Query. Concerning. Sales. Please. Dial. 1. If. You. Wish. To. Discuss. Marketing. Dial. 2. If. You. Require. Help. With. Assembly. Of. One. Of. Our. Products. Dial. 4. If. You..."
The new voice went on. It sounded as if each word had been recorded separately, on different days, when the owner of the voice had been in different moods. And in different states of health. She dialled 4, faintly wondering why.
"Putting. You. Through." said the voice, going in the space of three words from spellbound excitement, through depression, and finishing up on pure ecstacy, gaining a blocked nose somewhere along the way. There was some more of the disturbing heartbeat, but Celestia had grown to love it by this time. At least it didn't play music.
"Hello there!" said a new, male voice, so suddenly it made the princess jump. "I'm Teddy and it's my pleasure to be your service pony today!"
"Er.. good day," said Celestia, slightly disconcerted at the idea of talking to an actual, live pony after all this time.
"Amazing!" replied Teddy. Celestia failed to see anything amazing about it being the daytime, but she let it slide. "Can I get your name?"
"Helia," said Celestia, who had always wanted to go incognito.*
"Hi there, Helia! I'm sorry about the delay, we've been experiencing an unusually large volume of inbound calls today."
"So I'm told," Celestia said diplomatically.
"What can I help you with today, Helia?"
"I was rather hoping for some assistance in putting together some shelves."
"Oh..." Oh. That didn't sound good. There was the muffled shuffling of some paper. "I'm sorry, Helia, it looks like you've been misdirected." Celestia could feel her soul shrivelling up. "This is salesdesk." Of course it was. "I hope you don't mind waiting while we reconnect you?"
"Not in the least," lied the idol to millions.
"Awesome!" Celestia wondered vaugely whether the salespony truely felt awe at this revelation, and if so, whether he had to avoid any and all sunsets, gorges and bird-migrations in case his head exploded with astonishment. "I'm afraid it might take a while, but don't worry, there's music to listen to! This is one of my favourites!"
To be fair, Celestia couldn't really compare this music to the last lot. No, wait, yes she could. It was far worse. It sounded as though the composer had been sleep-composing, and had sent off the finished work in the post without really reading it through.
"Hello?" Was this the fourth or the fifth voice Celestia had spoken to? She didn't really know. She didn't care all that much, either. All she knew was that she was sick of being called Helia.
"May I please take your name?" said the new voice in an accent that could perhaps be best described as 'not Equestrian'. It was so thick you couldn't have cut it with a knife.
"Luna," responded the bastion of hope in a voice that would have made the average inner-city receptionist seem genuinely engaged and interested by comparison. She wasn't bored to tears. The tears had come and gone. She had, however, come to loathe, er, everything.
"Luna, yes."
"Yes."
"How can I helping you, Luna?"
"I was hoping for some help putting up some shelves," reported Celestia in what it would have been possible to describe as a monotone, had there been any tone to her voice at all.
"Shelves."
"That's right."
"Yes please."
Celestia fired up a translation spell. The warm glow enveloped her body, reminding her of what it was like to feel genuine sensations. She prepared to address the new pony in her own language. Then she gave up. She slammed the 'phone down. It was like being released from slavery. Any longer on that thing and she'd have had the scars to prove it.
She picked up the letter once again. Sure enough, Crater Mash had taken the trouble to include his own number. It was 1. Fair enough. She dialled it. She held the receiver away from her until she heard Mash's familiar voice: "Hello there?"
"Ah, Professor Mash."
"Your Majesty! This is an unexpected honour!"
"Never mind that, Professor. I am calling on a matter of the gravest concern."
"Oh... oh dear me. Whatever is the problem, ma'am?"
"Tell me, Mash, those, ah, Tel-eff-on-ies you made, how many have you released - what are you laughing at?"
"Nothing, ma'am, nothing. Are you referring to the telephones?"
Celestia blushed furiously. "I'm not here to discuss made up words, Mash."
"Of course, ma'am, my appologies."
"How many?"
"Er... a hundred-and-twenty-seven."
"Recall them."
"Beg pardon?"
"Get them back. Every last one. And destroy them. And never build another." Celestia had seldom sounded more serious.
"But... but I... they're going to revolutionise communication and-"
"In the future, I shall settle for writing letters, and, in the direst circumstances, shouting out of the window. Believe me, Mash, I have seen - that is, heard - dreadful things. I know how dangerous those things can be if they're misused. Should they fall into the wrong hooves... the consequences could be more terrible than either of us could possibly imagine."
"But... trade... diplomacy..."
"Enough. I expect a full report on the mopping-up operation by tomorrow morning. That is all." She hung up, and threw the 'phone out of the window. That felt good. She turned once more to the would-be-bookcase.
Ah. There was still that. To be done very soon indeed. Oh dear. Celestia gazed longingly out through the newly-broken glass of her window. Her eyes wandered across the grounds. They settled on a statue. The statue was of a Draconequus, and until recently, it had looked very pleased with itself indeed. Following recent events, however, it had assumed a slightly different attitude - one of cowering terror. If only... now there was an idea.
"With all due respect, Princess Celestia," asked an incredulous Twilight, "how could you bring Discord here?!" She hastily cleared her throat. "Your Majesty."
"I'm fully aware that the last time Discord was here, he created serious havoc," Celestia replied. It was nice to see that this lot still just sort of assumed she was a total idiot.
"If by 'serious havoc'," began Rainbow Dash, irately, "you mean..." and Celestia promptly tuned out, wondering whether there was anything she could do to convince ponies that she, the wisest pony in the world, might occasionally have a good reason for doing something.
"Yes, I understand," she said once Twilight's friends had stopped stating the obvious. "But I have use for Discord's magic if it can be reformed to serve good instead of evil. This is why I've brought Discord here, because I believe that you are the ponies who can help him do just that." That was what she said. What she was thinking was Don't ask what I want the magic for, don't ask what I want the magic for, don't ask...
"This will never work!" screamed Spike. Yes! That bookcase was as good as assembled...
* You try it with that mane.
Author's Note
For some reason, a great deal of this was written while listening to Harry Secombe singing hymns. Ho hum.
