Knock, knock.
Minuette’s ears perked up.
She was sitting down at her study table. A few books laid there and a calender rested beside them. The rest of the room was a little messy—a tilted picture, some uneven window curtains, a wall dustier than the others.
Minuette looked at the door—an hourglass-shaped door with an hourglass-shaped window.
The door knob glowed yellow as her horn did, too. It turned and the door went open.
“Why, hello!” the stranger greeted, wearing a fedora and a black checkered tuxedo and tie—unbuttoned. He was a gray blue pony.
“Oh, hi!” Minuette greeted back, waving and smiling. “I haven’t seen you before. You must be new to Canterlot—I could show you around!”
“Thanks, but I am not here to take a tour, ma’am.” He pulled out a brochure from his chest pocket, hoofing it to the mare. “I’m here to tell you of our tours!”
Her smile disappeared. “Oh. You must be one of those door-to-door guys who’re desperate for some money.”
“Well, the ‘door-to-door’ part is true,” the stranger began, taking his hat off and revealing his scruffy black mane. “But, I’m not desperate for money—in fact, from when I come from, this is one of the most profitable occupations ever!”
Minuette looked irritated. “Uh, it’s ‘from where I come from’.” A pensive pause. “Did you just wake up? It’s eight in the morning, after all.” She pointed to the sun above.
“Ah, yes!” The strange took a half-bow as if apologizing. “I understand your confusion. I trust that it will all be clear if you take a gander at the brochure you’re holding.”
Minuette eyed the shiny pamphlet. On the cover was a fancy clock at ten o' clock. Below the clock were the words, in big and bold lettering:
The Greatest Discounts on All-time Classic Trips Ever Since When! (More information inside) "You're free anytime with Junctural and Co.!"
"You see," the stranger interjected, holding a hoof in the air for emphasis, "I work for a company that invests in the fruitful venture of time trips."
Minuette looked up to see the confident stallion again. "So, you're an express travel agent?"
He shurgged. "In a sense."
She levitated the brochure back to the salespony. "I'm sorry, sir, but I have no interest in an out-of-town vacation."
"That's because out-of-town vacations are boring compared to what I have to offer you!"
Minuette scratched her head. "I'm not sure. In-of-town vacations sound even more boring to me."
The stranger put his hat back on his head. "OK, ma'am. You still don't get it?" He pointed to himself. "I sell trips not to wherever but to whenever."
He showed Minuette the inside of his suit and, dangling from many pockets and holders, were watches and clocks of various kinds. There was an old-time pocket watch of intricate detail—even the numbers were etched with embossed designs; there was a modern-looking watch with lines representing the numbers—sleek and minimalistic; there was a digital watch of LED and silver—the time shown was a bit blocky; and, among others, there was an ephereal watch as if made out of pure light—not too different from a hologram.
"This one," the stranger said, pointing to the last watch, "I got from the future—four thousand years into the future, to be exact. By that time, these were just going out of style—crazy trends and their being so temporary."
Minuette opened her mouth in awe; her irises shrunk as they beheld that 'future watch'. "W-where did you get...that?!"
"Easy to drift off into other topics, huh?" He shook his head, though retaining his smile. "I just told you. Four thousand years into the future or—if you want something more relatable to your time—let's say...about some millions of years ahead."
Minuette's jaw then dropped even farther.
"Give or take some hundred thousand years—at numbers like that, a century's difference is insignificant. As you know, I'm sure."
Mineutte croaked some syllables out. However, she made no coherent word—only eked out sounds of shock.
"Typical reaction from the Great Twilight Era, as we say it," the stranger said, pulling out a folder. He glanced at the street.
It was a normal street. There were no carriages on it.
A tap on his shoulder.
He turned around and saw Minuette's still-surprised face.
"This oughta' be the real thing," she said. "You better hope that you're a time-traveling pony, because I'm one-hundred percent sure that this is some elaborate ruse to steal my money. But, I'm no fool!" She stomped the stone floor.
The salespony sighed. "Alright." He opened the folder. "However, I was trained to handle prospects like you."T
Then, he hoofed the folder to her.
She floated it to her eyes.
Photographs of strange architecture and ethereal clouds. Buildings of light, flying cars, immense spaceships, robots, highways that winded around structures and mountains while never touching the ground. And ponies talking to each other while wearing garish garb.
Minuette closed the folder with her magic and gave the salespony an unimpressed look. "You could've asked an artist to do that for you. I'm familiar with photorealistic paintings."
"I knew you would say that," the salespony said, his smile growing as he took out from his suit a slim camera. He pushed a button and gave the camera to her.
She looked at the screen—flabbergastered. "Wait, this is a video camera! Twilight said that these exist in great numbers in the other world she's been—"
Minuette flopped to the couch, breathing heavily—her eyes wide open. "H-How? How? How is this even possible?! I kn-know Starswirl had some time travel spells, b-but—b-but how?!"
"Easy, miss," the salespony said as he sat on the chair opposite. "We improved it."
The two of them sat in the living room—the study table was still intact. A small wooden table and a carpet were what separated Minuette and the salespony.
"Th-then, then!—"
"Calm down," the stranger said as he took a cup of coffee out of his suit and sipped from it—the room now smelled of that delicious coffee aroma. "Give yourself all the time you need—I am in no danger of being late."
"For you to say that!" Minuette yelled, pointing at him and grabbing a pillow—ready to throw. "I'm not the one with the advanced magic here! I'm just a unicorn living in Canterlot, trying to make—a living! Look, I'm not the Princess you're out for!—I'm not the ancestor of your wife!—I'm not the pony who will end the world!"
"Those are fears that aren't too far-fetched and I know," the salespony said, keeping his distance. He placed his cup down on the table. "You're not the first one pony who's reacted like that. Nor will you be the last—I'm certain of that."
Minuette then let go of the pillow, dropping it.
"I'll cut straight to the chase." He fixed his tie and cleared his throat and adjusted his hat. "I work for Juncture and Co., the second-largest time-focused company in my...time. It sprout from humble beginnings and is now one of the most popular places to work in. Provides all of us with ample health insurance coverage, is very lenient and flexible when it comes to working hours—but that's beside the point.
"The point is—" He held up a hoof "—Juncture and Co.'s main thing is facilitating time travel trips to everypony who wants it. They pride themselves in cheap and affordable time travel—even the most famous destinations, like the months leading up to and right after Princess Luna turning into Nightmare Moon, are at half the normal prices. Not to mention our even bigger bargains—anything pre-Equestria pretty much gets slashes to as low as ninety."
"I don't know," Minuette interrupted—her voice still a little unclear. "I haven't even heard of your rivals. How am I supposed to compare prices? And, a better question—what's it even like to travel through time?"
"Get through the door and—pow!—you're back in time! Or forward." He frowned. "Yeah, it's that simple. Sorry to disappoint you if you were looking for a complicated answer."
Minuette placed a hoof on her head. "Look at me—just look at me! What am I doing with you?"
"Talking to me?" the stranger asked innocently. "Have I disoriented your mind already? I hope I didn't tangle the timeline already—it's a Type 3, so it should be fine—"
"There are types of timelines?!" Minuette yelled. Then, she covered her head with some pillows and lay on the bed.
The salespony walked over to the couch—a concerned face. "Are you OK, ma'am?"
"Next thing you tell me!—" Minuette shouted, muffled through the pillows, "you'll tell me that you've visited every major era in history! Future history! If you don't know when I'll die, it's probably somewhere in your archives or whatever!"
"Woah, woah!" The stranger backed up. "You're already talking about very serious topics! And, while a trip to your death is allowed and legal, I strongly recommend against it. Your future self may be surprised."
Then hit by a pillow.
"Hey! I came here to present you a service, not to get assaulted by pillows!"
Minuette rose up from the couch and stood on her four hooves. "In the past ten minutes, you've totally altered the way I think about how time's supposed to work! You'd think I'll be fine?!"
"Maybe you have a failing constitution," the salespony said. "But, don't worry!" His somber tone gave way to a cheerful one. "Perhaps the turning point for you is actual experience! You did imply that you were unfamiliar with time traveling—the process, I mean."
Minuette growled. "What if I show you straight to the Princesses, eh?"
The salespony placed a hoof inside his suit—and hesitated, looking at the cup of coffee on the table. "Well, let's not tie ourselves into a difficult knot. You'd better calm yourself down now—'cause, believe me—" He plopped himself down on his chair and clasped his forehooves "—if you decide to rat me out, most of your friends won't believe you and think that you've gone mad."
"I could bring you!" Minuette shouted.
"I'll be gone before you know it." The stranger cracked a thoughtful smile. "But, I'm just capable of being sneaky and mean. I don't want to do that—we time travelers realize the great responsibility on our shoulders."
He stood up.
"Now, miss!" the salespony yelled, taking out a flat device that had seven buttons and a scratched display. "Shall we begin?"
Minuette kept her angry face—but gulped.
"Ah, doubt," the stranger said, pacing the room, holding the device as he did so. "Also, you're scared. I know the feeling. The moment you step inside, you're not exactly...how do you put it?" Then, he waved it off. "Nevermind. Are you up to the challenge?"
"No," Minuette said.
The salespony placed a hoof to his hat, inhaling an unusual breath. "Wh-what's that you said? Like, the words you've just spoken just...now?"
"I have the freedom to decline a salespony's offer," Minuette continued, walking to him with a sure air. "Even if it's as...fantastical as yours."
He opened and closed his mouth rapidly—like a fish gasping for air, though saying no words. Then, after a forceful fix to his tie: "You're pretty sure about that? This is a once-in-a-lifetime—"
"No." Her eyes narrowed down. "When I say 'No', I mean it."
"Maybe you could stop, uh, meaning it!" the stranger said, slowly backing his way to the front door. "It was a rookie move to not tell you the many benefits of casual time travel! You could see historical events unfold right before your very eyes!"
Minuette took a step forward.
The salespony felt the door on his back. "Uh, you could make business across time and not just space! I could be your first partner! We could, uh, set up a partnership—maybe a law firm, if you're into that sort of thing!"
Another step forward—closer to his face.
"Eek!"
Sweat was going down his face.
"I could show you the near future and you could bet on some things and—yeah! Uh, you could, eh, make some certain money and—"
Inside a nearby donut store, Minuette and her friends—including the famed Princess Twilight Sparkle herself—were seated around a table of donuts; chocolate donuts, strawberry donuts, glazed donuts, peanut butter donuts, orange donuts—it was quite an assortment of flavors.
Twinkleshine and Lemon Hearts were busy helping themselves to the donuts, though their eyes were on Minuette.
Moon Dancer was staring at her with big grins; Twilight Sparkle was frowning, resting her head on a hoof.
Minuette, meanwhile, looked left and right—anxious, clattering her teeth a bit.
"You've met a salespony from the future who sold time travel?!" Moon Dancer exclaimed, her forehooves gripping the table. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?!"
"Why would I tell you sooner?!" Minuette exclaimed back, flailing her hooves in the air. "How would you respond when you realize that there's not just one pony—oh, no! There's a society of ponies who could know anything and everything about out pasts, presents, and futures—when and how we'll die, what our families will be like, and how our descendants are faring!" Then, slammed the table with a hoof.
Twinkleshine screamed a little as a donut almost fell to the checkered floor.
Twilight's smile then disappeared—replaced with a worried look, eyes downcast. "You're right, Minuette." Then, furrowing her brows, she went on: "But, are you absolutely sure that this was not a prank? Magic could do some very convincing things—and, I've heard rumors that a watchmaker in Rainbow Falls is developing a chair made out of light."
"It's true!" Minuette told, putting on her serious face. She looked at the others first, then at Twilight only. "Remember when you went to that other dimension where we're all there but we're students of some high school?"
"Yes," Twilight replied, nodding. "What are you getting at?"
"Remember when you told us that those...video cameras were in good supply in that world?"
"Certainly!" Her smile grew. "I even have some videos myself about me and my friends over there! Clear evidence in case anypony would doubt my adventures there."
"Well, he brought out a video camera but better!"
Twilight gulped.
Moon Dancer gasped.
Twinkleshine and Lemon Hearts merely looked at their friend.
"It has all these shiny buttons and these nifty things and the videos there were clear and I saw the future—I saw holograms, I heard new music and—"
"It could still be a prank," Lemon Hearts suggested, taking yet another donut. "There's been some weird but true stories about conponies upholding years' worth of lies to keep stealing money from unwary victims."
"That depends," Twinkleshine countered. She faced Minuette, a hoof on her chin: "What was the price of a typical 'time travel trip'"—placing hoof quotes on that term—"according to the salespony?"
"I...couldn't catch that detail."
"Which means that it wasn't overly expensive," Moon Dancer observed, fixing her glasses with her magic as they glowed pink. "You would remember if it was a thousand bits per trip."
It was now Twilight's turn to place a hoof on her chin. "Actually," she began, "if that salespony could travel through time and if everything he said was true—" Her eyes went wide. "I'll talk to Starswirl about this discovery. Maybe he could do something to end this random shuffling through timelines!"
And with that, she teleported out of the donut shop.
Her seat was now completely empty.
Everypony else stared at that empty seat.
"I think we just kicked off a chain reaction of events," Moon Dancer commented dryly. "Give her time—she will yank the world-renowned wizard and pull him here."
Twinkleshine snickered but Lemon Hearts slapped her on the head.
Minuette gulped. "What have I gotten ourselves into?"
And she shivered and shuddered.
The donuts were getting cold.
Minuette locked the front door and levitated a few rolls of duct tape and began the grand yet unorthodox method of making sure a door was unopenable—closing it shut with tape.
"You're sure you're not going crazy?" Twinkleshine asked on the couch.
Lemon Hearts was on the couch, too, while Moon Dancer sat at the study desk.
All were watching Minuette conduct the strenously long task.
And she said nothing.
"Uh, I think you need to go see a doctor or something," Twinkleshine said, lifting a hoof and lighting up her horn in cyan.
Minuette glared at her friend. "What if he comes back? What if he tells me precisely what I'm about to do in the next minute—the next second? Just so I could give him and his company some money! I have freedom—free will, I say!" Then, opening the curtains, he shouted: "You'll never take me alive!"
"Me?" Lemon Hearts asked, pointing to herself.
"No," a voice spoke. "Me."
Gasps and a Minuette screaming as the figure walked into view.
It was the strange salespony—smiling smugly. "Did you know that time travel and eavesdropping go extremely well together? You see, that's what I just did—from your perspective. From my perspective"—pointing to himself as he pulled out an old, dusty watch—"I took twenty minutes. Sixteen of those minutes were spent here, four of those minutes were spent deliberating between time jaunts—or time jogs, whatever you linear-minded ponies call it." Then, he pulled out another cup of coffee and sipped from it.
Twinkleshine got up from the couch, pulled Lemon Hearts out, and guarded her—a hoof between her and the salespony. Moon Dancer took on a defensive position, leaping out of the chair.
Minuette groaned and her horn glowed. "I'm warning you, mister."
And so, a couch and a table were what stood between the salespony and Minuette with her friends.
Lemon Hearts glanced at the partially taped door. "Great, Minuette. You've trapped us. None of us have the ability to teleport and we only have self-protection spells."
"Ah, a moderate user of sarcasm!" the salespony pointed out.
Lemon Hearts rolled her eyes and her horn glowed.
The salespony took his hat off and threw it at the table. "There. We're equal. You can keep a relic that's not supposed to exist until dozens of generations down the line. I get to tell all of you who I am—"
"We already know!" Minuette said under her horn's glow. "You're an annoying time traveler who wants money!"
"True," the salespony said, still smiling. "Except for the 'annoying' part. Well, my employers would not like it if I regularly annoy my customers. Or sometimes—or at all." He then coughed.
Moon Dancer raised an eyebrow. "If you're a time traveler from millions of years into the future, then how come near-perfect health isn't a thing?"
A bead of sweat went down his cheek. "Oh! Actually, uh, coughing is a polite gesture—a courtesy! Ah, yes, a courtesy you give to somepony when your words go from formal to not-so-formal."
Minuette looked at Moon Dancer. "What's going on?"
"Maybe he's fake," she coolly replied.
The salespony sighed. "'Fake'. You're telling me I'm fake." He then pointed at her then at him then back at her.
She nodded.
The stranger rubbed his head. "Unbelievable. Surely, the ponies of this era would readily believe photographs and videos. But, it turns out I've underestimated your technological development." He pursed his lips as he placed a hoof in his coat.
Now, every unicorn lit up their horns, illuminating the room dimly.
"Don't you try pulling a trick," Minuette said.
The salespony smacked himself on the head. "OK, OK—I should've just followed the company principle of 'Convince—'"
And then two ponies fell on him, crushing the poor stallion.
It was Twilight and Starswirl the Bearded—who was scratching his head as he got up and levitated Twilight off of the salespony.
Nopony screamed at that.
"So, what are we going to do with him?" Minuette asked as everypony else stood on one side of the room.
The salespony's eyes were darting left and right—sweat was pouring down on his face. His suit was getting wet with perspiration. His eyes then met the two cups of coffee on the table—mostly full.
"Send him back to his rightful time," Starswirl declared. "If he is a merchant of time, then the most reasonable course of action is to bring him home where and when he belongs."
His horn lit up.
"Wait!" the salespony shouted as he pulled out the device with seven buttons. "I'll prove it to you and go home just as you asked!"
Twilight gave him an inquiring look. "That is your means of time travel, isn't it?"
He took off his hat. "See! I have no horn! I'm no unicorn! Even if I was, I would've been a part of your school for gifted unicorns—"
"And how did you know that?" Twilight asked, raising her voice.
"You're a legend in our time! Of course, we know about your place of education and its famed—"
"That would be enough," Twilight said.
Starswirl gave her a serious look and she ended up retreating a step back—a sheepish smile. Then, facing the salespony: "You've stayed your welcome here long enough. Activate your contraption and, if you disappear before our very eyes, we'll believe you."
The stranger said nothing as he pushed only one button.
And he disappeared before their very eyes.
He appeared right above a chair and fell on it, landing headfirst on to one of its arms.
The bearded pony behind the black table sighed. "This is number twelve." He looked at the floating microphone before him.
The salespony rubbed his head once again—moaning. Then, he noticed the bearded stallion—and went straight to grinning. "Finally! Sweet home!" He then planted his head on to the table.
The bearded stallion giggled a little, though keeping his bothered face. "You've come back."
"Yes, sir, yes!" he yelled, waving his hooves about and even flinging the microphone off of its floating platform.
The pony sighed as he held a hoof to his head—pondering as he looked at the white walls and the white floor and the yellow ceiling—the neat room that the two of them were in.
"Age Point," he began behind the table, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you—our sensors indicated that you haven't done a splendid job on your first try."
The salespony pouted.
"But, I'll give you a piece of advice."
"What is it?" Age Point asked.
"Starting from now," the pony answered, "record and memorize all of our private conversations with each other."
Age Point raised an eyebrow. "I can understand recording, but memorizing? For what?"
The bearded pony laughed a little and leaned back on his comfy chair. "I can tell you're still getting used to this time travel thing."
Then, he took a nameplate from a drawer and placed it gently on the table.
It read:
Age Point, President of Juncture and Co.
He looked at Age Point in the eye. "You know I'm older you. So, you better get to studying these conversations in your free time so you won't trip up time. I don't want to lose all this money just because you forgot what I said when I was twenty-three."
