Gilda Plaza was always wonderful, but at the break of dawn, right when the sun started peeking over the horizon, it became magical. Water fountains cooled everyone down on dry autumn mornings, and pink and purple sun rays turned to glitter in the spray. Gusts of wind rustled through pine trees, filling the air with sharp, woody scents that really got the blood going. Creatures strolled down stone-paved trails, or had breakfast at a bustling restaurant, and their chatter combined into a beautiful murmur that spread everywhere.
Going there always reminded me of my old friend Gilda. I guess that’s why every visit felt a little bittersweet.
But Gilda didn’t get that place built just for everyone to mope about her after she was gone. She wanted creatures to enjoy going there, and that’s exactly what I did whenever I could.
One day, while I was at my usual café having breakfast, I happened to eavesdrop on some college students debating sports.
“Look, our defense is impenetrable,” said a griffon with icy blue tinges in her crest. “Cloudsdale might as well forfeit.”
“No way!” said a pegasus sitting beside her. “We’ve got the moves, we’ve got the drive, and we’ve got the home field advantage. That ruffleball pennant is as good as ours.”
“Why are you guys still arguing about this?” growled a dragon next to them both. “The game already happened. You just have to wait a few days to find out who won.”
I would have been fine listening to them and sipping my tea (fresh from Kirin Grove), but loud hammering from a bandstand across the plaza distracted me. A team of griffons were onstage moving around tools, planks of wood, and thick spools of wire. I watched them work until I noticed what else was up there: a phone booth, of all things.
One of Gilda’s big projects when she had been in charge was installing public phones in Griffonstone and its suburbs. I cheered her on back then, but after everyone started using phones all the time, I kind of lost interest. Sure, phones were great and all, but why call someone when you could fly over and visit them?
The hammering stopped. Two griffons set down their hammers and raised a pair of poles holding up a banner.
TALK TO EQUESTRIA, the banner proclaimed, INSTANTANEOUSLY!
That got my attention.
I left my half-empty mug and walked towards the bandstand just as a wiry griffon took the stage. He paced, his gaze shooting about, and mouthed words. Probably practicing a speech. When I got within a few yards of him, he glanced at me and put on a grinning, beaming expression.
“Good morning, ma’am!” He spoke louder than he needed to, like he thought I couldn’t hear him well. “Do you have a moment to learn about a brand new invention that could one day connect the world?”
“That sounds neat! But I was hoping I could talk to Equestria, like the sign says.”
He faltered for a second. Then he laughed and hopped down to me, his claw outstretched. “Well, then, I’ve just the invention for you. My name’s Graham,” he said as we shook. “I and my partner Bell have created the Exigeny Wire, a state-of-the-art deep sea thaumo-electric cable which will revolutionize inter-continental telecommunications! Now, I know that’s a lot of ten-bit words, so let me instead ask you one simple question. Have you ever wanted to talk to a pony in Equestria?”
“I used to fly through Equestria and talk to ponies all the time,” I said. I pointed to my standard-issue Griffon Kingdom Postal Service saddlebags. “When GKPS first started, they gave me the Canterlot-Ponyville-Baltimare route.”
And back then, I’d flown that route by myself. Now Canterlot alone had six griffons flying back and forth every week.
“How fitting! Then you’re just the griffon to give our connection a test run.” He offered a leg to help me onstage, which I took, and followed me up. Then Graham pulled me close and added, “Plus I could really use a test run of this whole spiel before the big shots show up.”
His little confession got a giggle out of me. “Happy to help!”
Graham escorted me to the phone booth, which looked like any other around Griffonstone from the outside. Inside, though, its headset hung from a box with dozens of wires pouring out, like a big electric squid.
“Where would you like to call, ma’am?” Graham asked. “You mentioned your old mailing route. We happen to have a another demonstration unit set up in Baltimare—“
“Oh, I know! I want to call the royal palace in Canterlot.”
Graham winced. “There aren’t any phones in Canterlot.” Then his cheer came back with a flourish. “At least, not yet. Some work permits we need to finalize, a few zoning ordinances to get waived, one or two little castles to…relocate. Baltimare, though, is only a button press away.”
I hesitated. I didn’t know anyone who lived in Baltimare.
“Or, if you want to try someplace new,” he said, “we have ponies standing by in Appleloosa, Ponyville, Las Pegasus—“
“Las Pegasus!” I hopped up with excitement. “Can we call there?”
Graham nodded to someone behind the booth and offered me the headset. I could already hear ringing, but it seemed to stretch on much more than it should have. I wondered if something had gone wrong with Graham’s telephone.
But, then, click.
“Las Pegasus,” said a sleepy stallion’s voice, “Bell here.”
“Really?! You’re really in Las Pegasus right now?” I cheered. Graham winked at me, as if to say Can’t you believe your own ears?
“Yes, ma’am,” Bell said, “we’re set up on the Shamal Center Strip.”
I’d been at the Center Strip before, with all its flashing electric lights and bustling ponies, for a very special reason. “Is the Gaitland Wedding Chapel still there?”
“It sure is. I can actually see it from here.” He added coyly, “Don’t suppose you have a story about it?”
“I do!” I stopped, though. Gaitland is one of those private moments I’ve never shared with anyone. “Actually, it’s not all that interesting. I just went there once with my really good friend Spike.”
I arrived at work an hour later, chipper as usual, with that day’s deliveries fresh on my mind. New book fair catalogs had come in the day before, and the kids at Griffonstone’s schoolhouse would snatch them up like ponies at a cupcake buffet. Geoffrey would probably ask me what books he should get, so I had to think of some recommendations for him. I’d swing by the ruffleball field next and, if I made good time, I could spend my lunch break rooting for Griffonstone College against Lavafall Tech. Then it’d be onto Maple Valley, my usual neighborhood—by the looks of things, one of Gervais’s cousins was getting married, and Galliano had good news about his college application—and finally I’d end my day at the retirement home. It’d be nice to see Greta again, even though sometimes she got confused and asked about Gilda.
That day, though, I had an extra reason to be happy. After my phone call to Las Pegasus, I’d written a letter for Spike, telling him to get a phone hooked up in the Canterlot palace. It’d been a few years since he’d written to me, but I couldn’t blame him. Being Princess Twilight’s number one royal advisor meant he probably didn’t have time to write anything besides reports about how great Equestria was doing. With a telephone, though, he wouldn’t have to make time. He could just pick up when I called!
Thoughts of my letter to Spike, and the talks we’d have afterward, were still on my mind when I entered the sorting room and saw a box of rubber bands shoot past my head.
“I busted my flank for those buzzards!” bellowed a young griffon. “And this is the thanks I get?!” His big chest heaved, and his feathers fluttered in anger. He snatched a roll of tape next and pulled back to hurl it, but he froze when he saw me. His expression jumped from fiery rage to sobbing remorse. “Aw, geeze, Ms. Gabby, I’m so sorry! You okay?”
“I’m fine, Guido.” I waved nonchalantly. Guido was one of the griffons with a route to Canterlot, and it meant the world to him. He was super sweet, and would never hurt a fly, but his emotions could get away from him sometimes. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
His face contorted into a sneer. “Those bird brains are firing me!”
“What? No!”
“Yes they are! Ms. Gwen says she’s giving me a ninety-day ‘transition period,’ whatever the hell that means.” He flopped onto his haunches. “But fat chance I’m even gonna show up tomorrow.”
“There has to be some mistake.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You mean the Postal Service makes mistakes?”
Guido burst into a mean laugh. I didn’t like his jokes about the Postal Service, and I didn’t join in. With a sudden gasp, he sank to his haunches and started crying.
I scooted beside him on the floor. “Tell you what. I’ll go see Gwen, ask her what’s up, and get this all straightened out.”
“That’s nice of you, but you’re wasting your time,” he sniffled.
“Don’t say that, Guido. You’re my friend, and Gwen is too, so I’m not wasting my time if I’m helping my two friends. Now, while I’m out…” I nodded at all the office supplies Guido had thrown around. “How about you clean this up? You’ll want to make a good impression if Gwen comes in.”
Guido wiped his eyes. “Thanks, Ms. Gabby.”
Then he hugged me, a big and fluffy hug like I used to get only in Equestria. Now I got all the hugs I could ever want from other griffons.
Times really had changed in Griffonstone. They were good changes, mostly.
In my boss’s office, bookshelves sagging with stacks of musty papers lined every wall, except where windows overlooked our branch’s steam plant. On the floor, piles of folders slumped and crumpled wads of paper circled a dented wastebasket. Gwen herself sat hunched over her desk, a ratty quill in her claws and a sheet of pink paper in front of her.
Apparently ‘pink slip’ wasn’t a euphemism.
When I walked into Gwen’s office—her door was always open—she looked up with an ashen expression that made me want to hug her and tell her everything would be okay.
“What’s up, Gab?” Gwen asked, her voice weary. The dimples around her beak screwed up in an attempted smile.
“It’s about Guido—“
Gwen’s smile vanished, and her shoulders slumped.
“He’s such a hard worker!” I took wing and got closer. “And he always makes his deliveries on time. Even earlier when he can! I know he gets moody…”
But Gwen was waving her claws, gesturing Enough already! “I know, Gab. It sucks, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Yes there is something you can do about it! Just don’t give him that pink slip.” I pointed at the sheet of paper under Gwen’s quill.
“I wasn’t planning to give Guido this pink slip,” she said, her eyes rolling, “because this pink slip is for Grant.”
I took a second look at Gwen’s desk and gasped. Gwen didn’t just have one pink slip. She had a whole stack of them.
“We’re downsizing.” Gwen ran a claw through her crest. “Every Equestria route is losing half of its carriers.”
“Half?! Gunhilda handles Appleloosa all by herself! How are you going to send out half of Gunhilda?”
“She’s staying, but her route is getting merged with Dodge Junction.”
“But Dodge Junction is Grant’s route!” A quiet moment passed until I remembered about poor Grant. I wilted to the floor.
“Gab, I really, really, wish this wasn’t happening, but the call came from way above my head.” Gwen scratched something across the top sheet on her desk. “Of course, they stuck me with actually telling everyone,” she grumbled.
While she kept writing, I took a few cautious steps closer. When Gwen had first been hired, I showed her around our branch so she could meet everyone else. She was such a bright-eyed young griffon back then. Ambitious, too. I ended up working for her only a few years afterward.
Right then, I missed that young Gwen who was ready to take on the whole world. That young Gwen was gone, though, and would never come back. The older Gwen in front of me, with her gray feathers and bags under her eyes, needed me.
“Why are they doing this?” I asked.
Gwen kept writing. “Do you remember when Gilda put up those telephone lines around Griffonstone?”
“Yeah?” Griffonstone’s phone lines had gone up long ago, back when I was strong enough to fly a route to Canterlot. What did they have to do with layoffs now?
Gwen rubbed her eyes. “I’d just gotten the assistant branch manager job when that happened. Lord, talk about a trial by dragon fire. Long story short, griffons switched from writing letters to making calls faster than anyone expected. Domestic mail volume dropped like a rock.”
That did bring back memories. The sorting room had been a lot quieter than usual. Local carriers started taking two-hour lunches. One guy showed everyone in our branch how he’d gotten an empty bag one day.
Then, I remembered, griffons started leaving.
“Stuff hit the fan, if you know what I mean,” Gwen continued. “Routes got merged at random. Some weeks, we let carriers go on a Thursday so we could make payroll that Friday. My boss couldn’t handle it and quit. We didn’t have any money for his severance, though, so I had to write his IOU.”
Gwen paused and neatened the pink slip pile.
“This time, they have everything planned out. They raised postage last year and built up some cash reserves, so we can weather deficits for a while. And, by sending out notices now, everyone can find new jobs before we start making cuts. It’s the best they can do.”
“But Guido is amazing—“ I pleaded.
“Everyone here is amazing! You think I hire slackers?” Gwen huffed. “And Guido will be amazing wherever he ends up.”
I wasn’t so sure. Guido was a hard worker, but his moods still got him into trouble sometimes. He needed more time to learn how to control them.
“What if you have Guido help me with my route?” I asked.
“No,” she moaned.
“He’d be great at it!” I started hovering, like my wings had a mind of their own. “He could meet Geoffrey and the other schoolkids waiting for their book fair catalogs. You know, when he was Geoffrey’s age, Guido read the Detectimorphs series, those chapter books about changeling kids who go around solving crimes. He could totally get some kids interested in them!”
“Gab…” she started, but I just kept going.
“Then, Guido and I could swing by the old ruffleball field so we can get lunch and watch Griffonstone College whup Lavafall Tech’s scales. ROCK ‘EM AND SOCK ‘EM, GC!”
Gwen startled at my cheer, but she didn’t interrupt me.
“It takes all afternoon for me to get through Maple Valley, but if Guido and I split the work, we’d get it done in no time. I’ve got a wedding invitation for Gervais, but I’d let Guido make Galliano’s day. His parents are going to be so proud of him for getting into Griffonstone College! After all that, we’d finish up at the retirement home. Oh, that’s the best.” I swooned. “All those pensioners may act as cranky as Grampa Gruff, but you can tell it’s just for show. Inside, they really do want to be friends, and when you see that, it’s like light shining through their grumpy mask.”
A real smile crept onto Gwen’s face. She’d let the quill droop in her claws. “You really love it, don’t you?”
“Yep. And Guido would, too.”
Gwen’s smile melted. Her quill snapped upright. “Sorry, Gab. I’d transfer him if I could, but there aren’t any openings in local routes.”
I watched her work through another pink slip without a word. Had I misjudged Gwen? Was my boss so heartless I’d have to shame her into confronting her higher-ups? But no, Gwen wasn’t heartless. She obviously hated herself enough for signing off on those layoffs. She’d probably already fought as hard as she could to stop them.
Another idea popped into my head: stop the phone lines to Equestria. I could start protests in front of the phone booth, petition the Griffonstone City Council for a law banning international phones, or make friends with a pod of anarchist whales that would blow up the phone lines. Or anarchist sea ponies, that’d probably be easier. But no, that would upset Graham, and he seemed like a nice guy who wanted to make things better. Plus I’d lose my chance to talk with Spike.
Maybe Guido could get another job, and he could be amazing at it. Maybe even more amazing than here. Could leaving be good for him? But no, he liked this job, and he wanted to stay. If he got laid off when he’d done nothing wrong, it’d kill his motivation.
I came to a terrible and unavoidable conclusion. Even though everyone was doing the best they could, one of them had to get hurt. Nothing I did would change that.
But no. That wasn’t right either.
Gwen looked up from her pink slips. “Anything else, Gab?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m retiring.”
That shocked Gwen, almost as much as it shocked me to say it. “Are you sure?“
“Yep! I-I have my, uh…pension all vested,” I stammered, “and I’ve saved up plenty of money. You know, I wanted to travel more, see some old friends, but not have to fly myself.” I forced my wings open, which creaked and popped all the way out. “So I’m just here to pick up my paperwork.”
It took a moment for Gwen to nod. “Okay. I’m sorry to see you go, Gab. Really. Thank you for your…lord, forty-eight years of service.” Gwen reached across her desk and jotted on a to-do pad. “I’ll have Griffon Resources schedule an exit interview with you. Can you stay on for a few weeks?”
“Why?”
“So you can train your replacement.” Gwen flipped through her stack of pink slips and pulled out one. It became confetti in her claws. “Also, could you send Guido over here? I’ve got a new assignment for him.”
That evening, I went back to Gilda Plaza for dinner so I could try the sushi at a new hippogriff place. Mt. Aris sushi was supposed to be the best in the world. I figured I’d get to find out soon enough.
My letter to Spike was still in my saddlebags. I’d thought about giving it to Guido for his last trip to Canterlot, but it needed a postscript. Maybe a whole rewrite. Writing a new letter over dinner sounded nice at first, but when I got to the restaurant, I decided to put it off to the next day.
Part of me thought about putting it off even longer. A little delay wouldn’t change when Spike wrote back. Or if he wrote back.
While I waited for my sushi, I sat outside with a cool, sugary drink. Graham’s phone booth was still up on the bandstand, as was Graham, but a couple of other griffons had joined him. They must have been the ‘big shots’ he’d talked about that morning. They looked serious. Graham held the telephone headset and seemed to be saying something to them, but it was all too far away for me to hear. His head swiveled, catching each one of them with his straining smile. None of them seemed impressed.
Finally a griffon standing near the back of the group flew over and snatched the headset from Graham. She drifted down, pressed it against her ear, and spoke. Whatever she heard, it made her eyes bulge. She turned to her group and said something that wowed them all.
Graham beamed.
After the other griffons spent a few minutes passing the headset around, Graham looked at me across the plaza. He whispered to an assistant and then flew over.
“Hey there!” he said as soon as he landed. “You wanted to talk to someone in Canterlot palace, didn’t you?”
“That’s right.”
Graham pointed over his shoulder. “A royal delegation is in Las Pegasus right now getting a demonstration from Bell. Do you want to see if your friend is with them?”
My heart skipped a beat. Could Spike be there? A royal delegation could mean Princess Twilight and her number one advisor, but it could also mean Prince Blueblood on a “working vacation.” Part of me, the part that wanted to put off rewriting my letter to Spike, said I shouldn’t accept, shouldn’t risk disappointment.
But the rest of me got up and followed Graham.
My legs shook as I approached the bandstand. Graham’s assistant took the headset from one of the big shots and whispered into it. I hesitated, not sure what was happening, but Graham pushed me forward until his assistant helped me up and thrust the headset at me. Graham started talking to the big shots—telling them I had friends in Equestria I hadn’t been able to talk to until now—but all I could focus on was the headset.
I took it. it felt so much heavier than that morning, and I struggled to hold it. “Hello?”
“Uh, hi,” a husky, resonant voice said. “Who’s this?”
I didn’t place his voice, at least not right away. He sounded familiar, but also impossibly young, like a childhood memory brought to life. I wondered if he was someone’s son, or grandson. Then his name sprang to mind.
“Spike! It’s me!”
Nothing came back, at first. “Gabby?”
I laughed. “Oh my goodness, it’s been so long! How are you?”
“Wow. Hey, yeah, I’m good.” He sounded confused. “Uh, sorry I haven’t written back. Royal advising keeps me pretty busy. So what have you been up to?”
The news burbled out of me. “I’m retiring!”
“You are?”
“Yep! I’m free! Well, after all the paperwork gets filed and I train my replacement. But soon I can do whatever I want.” I cupped the headset closer to my beak. “I could go on a big trip anywhere in the world.”
“Hah! That’s awesome.”
I waited, hoping he’d ask where I was going. Or ask me to visit him in Equestria, maybe ask if I wanted to stay.
But he didn’t.
A sun ray dazzled me. The sunset had started, which brought back another memory.
“Hey, Spike? Do you remember Gaitland? The wedding chapel?”
He paused. “Yeah, I do.”
I didn’t have to say anything else about it to him, but I couldn’t help myself. “Remember how we sat on the chapel steps and watched the sunset? That was my favorite part.”
Spike chuckled. “I liked that part too.”
“We should do it again, right now!”
He made a perplexed sound. “What?”
“The sunset just started,” I said, “and you’re in Las Pegasus. If we stay on the phone and watch it set together, it’ll be like—“
“Gabby, it’s still morning here.”
I froze, my beak agape.
“That’s time zones for ya, huh?” he added.
“Heh,” I said at last. “Yeah.”
We were both quiet. The headset weighed in my claws.
I felt an urge to say goodbye, and not because of the stupid time zones. Spike was a young dragon still, with a princess to advise and centuries of life ahead of him. I knew that, and I knew that was really why he didn’t write to me anymore. He couldn’t spend all his time on an old hen like me. The time we’d spent together had been more incredible than I could have ever hoped for, but maybe it was over.
Spike, though, had different ideas.
He asked, “Could you tell me about the sunset over there?”
So I did. I told him how its golden rays dwindled minute by minute. How cool winds rustled through nettles and scattered them to the ground. How dry autumn air sapped all my energy. How kids were giggling and chasing each other through the plaza, and how it made me miss being younger. And finally I told him how the night sky blossomed in star-flecked indigo. My sore legs forced me to sit, and my stomach grumbled from missing dinner, but I stayed on that phone with Spike until I had nothing else to tell him.
“That sounds beautiful,” Spike said when I finished. “I wish I was there with you.”
“Me too.”
He chuckled. “Well, I think I need to wrap it up over here.”
I realized Graham and the other griffons were standing around me. They didn’t look impatient, but I had been on the phone for a long time.
“Hah! Same here.” I rose, my stiff legs creaking. “It was good talking to you.”
“Yeah. I missed this,” he said. Spike paused for a moment, then: “Do you want to talk again soon?”
“Definitely!” It took all my waning energy to not squawk it at him.
“When?”
“Whenever you want. I’m retired now, so it’s not like I have any plans.”
A few words came through in murmurs. He was talking to someone next to him.
“Well, Twilight says she’ll do the Las Pegasus sunset in about nine hours,” he said to me. “I could tell you what that’s like. How about I call you then?”
“I’d love that.”
“All right,” Spike said, his voice growing distant, as if someone had taken the headset from him, “I’d love that too.”
