Fiction is Obliged to Stick to Possibilities
Sheriff Sprout had taken a hard look at the post-unicorn state of Maretime Bay. At their vulnerability, their unreadiness, their uncertainty. Most terrifying of all, at their utter inability to guess what that madmare Sunny Starscout was doing while consorting with the enemy.
There was only one rational response: A completely irrational response.
“Mob,” he declared from atop the cable car.
“Mob?” asked one of his charges.
“Mo-mo-mob mob,” he elaborated.
This raised more questions among the crowd. “Mob?”
“Mob?”
Given these salient points, Sprout clarified his position. “Angry! Angry!”
And yet, even as the ponies flocked to his banner and danced to his choreography, he snickered, chortled, and eventually broke down in contagious giggles that soon had the entire town cracking up.
“Cut!” As the tittering crowd filtered out of shot, a pale yellow earth mare got off her folding bench by the camera. Her two-tone green ponytail streamed behind her as she trotted on set and into the gazebo. “Okay, Stage, what’s the problem?”
Stage Presence sighed and let himself fully drop out of character as the lingering backup dancers collected themselves. “Sorry, Ms. Montage, but you have to admit these lyrics are silly.”
One stallion, still snickering to himself, got out a "Mob," before falling to the ground in poorly repressed hysterics.
Juniper Montage barely gave him a glance before turning her half-lidded glare back to Stage. “I thought we went over that at the table read.”
“I thought we had too," he said. "But it’s one thing to just say it. When we’ve got a full musical number dedicated to it with guitar chords making me feel like I’m disrespecting the memory of Curt Cobalt, it’s quite another. I’m all for a warning about the dangers of tribalism and herd mentality, but there’s being on the muzzle, and then there’s flattening the muzzle.” Stage brought a hoof within an inch of his snout to emphasize the point.
The director fumed at him for a few moments before replying. “I don’t disagree, but you know how this whole project started.”
“Yeah,” Stage muttered, “but that’s not going to stop you from telling me again.”
It did not. “Princess Twilight herself came into my office with that script. She effectively commissioned Zoom Studios to produce it. Do you know how often that happens?”
Stage rolled his eyes. He’d been on the other end of enough monologues to recognize his cue. Moon-banished actors-turned-directors. “Never.”
“Never!" Juniper began to pace about the gazebo. "Celestia never did it. Luna certainly didn’t. Flurry Heart’s been an honorary member of the Noble Siblinghood of Industrial Light Crews and Magicians ever since she blew the D off the Applewood sign, but she doesn't get involved in the concept stages. Cadence approaching any lot filming a romance movie is treated as a monster attack. Heck, I was there the last time Twilight Sparkle got involved in cinema, and that was before she got the wings!”
That surprised Stage out of his stupor. He hadn’t heard that part of Juniper’s one-mare show before. “But the Horsehooves debacle was years after that.”
Juniper shook her head as she settled herself back in place. “Common misconception. She’s the one Bearer who wasn’t involved in A Princess’s Diary. But I still remember the purple unicorn with a bullhorn who parked herself in front of the lot after the ’08 adaptation of Rainbow’s Gravity came out. She spent three solid hours talking about how it cut out all the best parts. Uncle Canter couldn't even call the cops since she'd filed all the proper paperwork for a lawful protest.”
Stage, like most ponies, knew two things about the novel in question. One was that it had something to do with weather factories. The other… “Isn’t the hardcover of that book considered a lethal weapon?”
That got a nod. “And Not-Yet-Princess Twilight wanted all the heavy ordnance put back in. So when she came into my office not only with a script, but with one that didn’t break my desk in half, she had my attention. When the script was actually decent, she had my interest." Juniper smirked. "And when she told me she’d be hoofing the bill, how could I say no?”
Stage knew the answer to his next question. He was far from the first to ask it; everycreature from leading lady Critical Acclaim to Oberea, the changeling playing Cloudpuff, had asked her at some point in production. But it was the final part of the performance, and his soul insisted he see the part through. “And we can’t make any changes?”
And Juniper, as per her role in the piece, shook her head. “When the ruler of Equestria says not to and offers to pay for it? Definitely not.”
“She’d probably notice the changes anyway, wouldn’t she?”
That just got a smirk. “This is Princess Twilight we’re talking about. Of course she would.”
The typical mid-budget popcorn flick didn’t get much attendance at its premiere screening. Any of the cast and crew who were free for an afternoon, a few reviewers, that was it.
Future Imperfect was anything but typical.
The little theater on the Zoom Studios lot, smaller than those in some mega-celebrities’ mansions, was packed to the gills. Even the royal box, which had been occupied all of three times before this, was fully booked. Species from all around the world and more besides filled the seats, and as the camera lingered on an earth foal’s sparkling hoofsteps at the end, the fade to black was met with…
Well, mediocre applause, honestly. The kind of polite stomps, claps, and other bodily percussion that came from knowing that the princess had asked for the movie and was in attendance. Burying her name under “Special Thanks” and crediting the screenplay to Alley Smithy had done nothing to keep rumors from circulating throughout all of Applewood. Speculation abounded over why a decently watchable mashup of post-apocalyptic survival and musical screwball comedy was so important to the princess, and would continue to do so for moons with no satisfactory official answer.
Princess Twilight herself offered some measured stomps as the lights came back up, though at her size, they were still the loudest ones to come out of the royal box. (Except the yak, but one always excepted the yak.) She nodded to the director seated at her left wing. “Very well done, Ms. Montage. And thank you; you’ve been very accommodating through the whole process.”
Luster Dawn would be the first to admit she was still working on reading body language, but even she could see Juniper Montage visibly relax after the praise. “Thank you, Your Highness. I hope you think of us next time you need a film made to such… exacting specifications.”
“I doubt I will, but I’ll bear that in mind.”
The relaxation left as quickly as it came, leaving Ms. Montage with a smile that was mostly just exposing her teeth. “Though, if I may ask—”
The princess held up a forehoof. “Regrettably, I must say that you may not. All I can tell you is that you did Equestria a great service.”
After several conversational false starts, Ms. Montage furrowed her brow and shrugged. “If you say so, Your Highness." She rose and offered a shallow bow. "If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course." The smile that was part of Princess Twilight's usual serene expression curved a bit more with genuine mirth. "I know how little free time mares in our positions have.”
"No kidding." Ms. Montage made for the exit at the back of the box, grumbling inaudibly.
Princess Twilight followed her, though she turned her focus to the second row of the box, which thankfully had had just enough seats for the others she'd invited. “I hope you all had fun.”
That got affirmations from the friends Luster had met in Ponyville, ranging from Fry the earth pony's silent nod to Yelena the yak's pleased grunt to Georgia the griffon trying to fit several hours of hobnobbing into a single moment. That came out as a high-pitched, strangled squawk that got the kirin next to her to jab her with a cloven hoof. "We all had a lot of fun, Twilight," said River Song.
"Rgkl," added Georgia.
The princess beamed regardless. "Wonderful."
Luster hated to ruin the mood, but her curiosity demanded it. “Princess Twilight? Could I, um…”
“Of course, Luster," the princess said, not looking away from the others. "We’ll met you in the lobby, everycreature. No offense meant, but—”
“National security, deep secrets, we get the idea,” said River Song. She got out of her seat, prompting the others to follow along. “Nothing I’m not used to with Mom, Your Highness. See you downstairs.”
“Some days I think I see more of that doe than Rain Shine does,” Princess Twilight said as she watched them leave. She shook her head as she turned back to Luster. “But that’s a matter for another day. Go ahead; I remember how it feels to have a question for the princess on the tip of my tongue.”
"Um..." Sometimes Luster envied River's ability to be so casual with Princess Twilight. "So, uh, w-why weren't your friends able to come?"
"Aside from preexisting engagements?” The princess smiled sincerely, her gaze focused on something from decades ago. “Several of them still won't show their faces in Applewood after their directorial debuts."
Luster wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but that hadn't been it. "Huh?"
"It's a long story, and one I only heard secondhoof. Ask Pinkie Pie about 'cinema canapé' when you get the chance.” Princess Twilight shook her head, clearing out the nostalgia. “But we both know that's not what you really wanted to ask me."
Luster squirmed under her gaze for a few moments. “I know you encourage me to question your judgement, princess, but that doesn't make it easy."
"I understand. Whenever you're ready."
“Well…” Luster bit her lip, partly out of nerves and partly to prod herself into spitting out the question. “Why did you commission this script? It’s a fun enough movie, but it’s no Casabronco.”
Princess Twilight's smile went from vaguely maternal to the enigmatic curve that always heralded her most confusing lessons. “What can you tell me about divination?”
Luster’s tone shifted to something almost less than completely respectful. “Princess, are you trying to sidetrack me with magic theory until I forget my original question?”
“Not this time.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Luster shut her eyes and recalled everything Mr. Mudbriar had taught her about mind palaces, extracting the information from the exact place where she'd left it. “Divination is a poorly studied but undeniably powerful form of magic. Part of the problem is that it’s one of the few disciplines that can’t be learned. One is born with a set degree of divinatory proficiency that can range from reverse-causality reflexive twitches to Princess Emerita Celestia’s prophetic dreams. The best known and most accurate prophecy is the one you rediscovered just in time to anticipate Nightmare Moon’s return.”
“Very good. Just one minor correction: Prophecies can be much more accurate than that.”
"More accurate than..." Luster sputtered for a few moments before crying, “How? It foretold something centuries in the future to almost within the hour.”
“Ah, but that was just one event." Princess Twilight tilted her head as she grinned. "Suppose a prophecy told the events of a few weeks roughly a millennium before they happened.”
Luster's eyes darted about as she thought, eventually settling on the princess's horn. And how it was pointing at the other end of the theater. “Did it do so in the form of a movie script?”
“Not originally, but it wasn’t hard to adjust the formatting.”
“Then why a film?”
“For one, the generation born after my accession and the horrific events that preceded it is growing up. You're living proof of that." Princess Twilight leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Back then, it felt like the world stood on the brink of disaster on an annual basis. Now we’ve got it down to, oh, once or twice a decade. You’ve been fortunate, but it means you can take friendship for granted.”
“I’m really more of an outlier. Or was." Luster gulped and tried again. "I’m trying, really!”
“Sorry, Luster. That was meant as more of a general, overarching ‘you.’ But I think you see my point.” The princess looked up at the ceiling, her sparkling mane slowing until it almost went still. "Listen to me, complaining about foals these days. When did I get this old?"
“Um…”
“Don't worry, there's no right answer there. Or if there is, I'm the one who has to find it." The princess shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "I can tell you've got more to ask. Go ahead.”
“Isn’t trying to avert a prophecy is one of the best ways to make it come to pass?”
“It is, yes. Well spotted." The grin came back in full force. "Now, what sounds more probable: Foretelling weeks of events that won’t happen for centuries, or predicting the plot of a movie that premieres next year?”
Luster stared blankly at her teacher. She'd reached a familiar mental state in her lessons, that of blank incomprehension at the outright shenanigans Princess Twilight routinely pulled on existence. “What.”
"I like to call it 'shaving with Clopham's razor,'" said a voice from behind them.
By tradition, a royal box was the princess's to do with as she saw fit, and that meant everypony leaving her to it until she relinquished the space. Even the ushers hadn't bothered them this whole time. Yet Luster turned to see a creature enter the royal box and sit at the Princess's left.
Luster's first thought was that the newcomer was a shaved Abyssinian, but the legs were entirely wrong, to say nothing of a facial structure unlike anything she'd ever seen. The pointed ears came out of the sides of the thing's head, its flat face was broken only by a bizarre lump of a nose, and the green eyes smiling back at her were eerily equine in their size and expressiveness. The event did call for some degree of clothing, but the creature wore a dress that, while tailored with obvious skill, was in a style foreign to all of Luster's admittedly limited fashion knowledge. Madame Yona could only show her so much in the time she'd spent in Ponyville.
Perhaps the strangest thing of all, more so than the eerily pale skin or the bizarre sight of either the strangest feet in existence or shoes crafted by a madmare, was the nagging sense of familiarity.
“So, Sweetie," the princess said as if this was completely normal, "what did you think?”
“If there were any differences, I didn’t spot them.”
Luster managed to recover enough to croak out, "Princess, I thought you said you were going to warn me next time you did something that made me question all of existence."
"Hmm?" Princess Twilight turned back to her, concern growing as she took in Luster's wide-eyed horror. "Didn't Professor Rosewater cover this in his introduction to multiversal mechanics?"
Luster could only shake her head.
The princess scowled and snorted. "I'm going to have to have a talk with that stallion. Probably got lost in one of his pet projects again." She rose from her seat, giving Luster a clearer view of the stranger. "Luster Dawn, this is Sweetie Belle, the prophet who provided the framework for what became Future Imperfect."
The creature waved. "Nice to meet you."
"Sweetie Belle?" The clues came together in a way that by all rights shouldn't have made sense. The two-tone mane. The necklace of a three-part shield. The voice, for Harmony's sake. Luster felt she had to object on principle. "Professor Belle isn't a prophet. Or a... whatever you are. Ma'am."
The princess clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Clearly we'll need to plan some time in Sunset's world. And I'll need to give the School of Magic a good shakedown in terms of the curriculum. Suffice to say, Sweetie is from a nearby worldline parallel to our own. She's their spirit of the future, so when she provided me with the Starscout Report, I knew what I had to do."
Luster tried to keep the judgement out of her voice. “Cheat?”
"Tried" being the operative word.
Princess Twilight just smirked. “I like to think of it as a creative interpretation of the rules. You'll find that the world very rarely plays fair.”
"Besides," added Sweetie, "I don't have massive visions drop in my lap like that every day. Definitely not for the world next door. If I get that level of detail, it's usually because I'm supposed to share it."
“I see." Luster didn't, but she did trust the princess. And she'd certainly found the validity of other pieces of dubious royal wisdom in the past. "Do you think it’ll work?”
The princess could only shrug her wings. “We’ll find out in time, like it or not." She made for the exit, the bizarre Sweetie Belle joining her. "Now come on. Based on your letters and my own experiences, we can't leave a group of Ponyvillians unattended for much longer.” She and Sweetie both smirked.
Then the latter held up several digits for some reason, lowering them in sequence and making the princess's eyes widen.
As she lowered the last, the entire theater shook. Luster nearly hit the stairs muzzle-first, caught by the princess's magic at the last second. Princess Twilight herself hadn't visibly shifted. Sweetie had already been holding the banister and looked insufferably smug for it.
Any comment Luster might have made to that effect was interrupted by a familiar voice crying out, “Solidarity for the oppressed!”
"Oh no," said Luster. "Fry's been talking to the ponies working the concession stand."
“Oh, Starlight. I may need to look at the School of Friendship’s curriculum while I'm at it.” Princess Twilight bolted down the stairs at a rate that would have seemed panicked if she hadn’t had so much practice.
Luster sighed, then looked up at the unfamiliar feeling of a hand on her withers.
“Take it from me,” said the warped parody of Professor Belle, “some of your best memories will come from doing stupid stuff with your friends. Don’t feel bad about it. Just learn from it so you can make different mistakes next time.”
Luster nodded. “I've gathered as much." She tried to look past the alien body to the compassionate mare she'd come to know at the School of Friendship. "I don’t suppose you could just tell me how it really ends?”
Sweetie shrugged. “It never really ends. People just shift roles. Enjoy the time you have as who you are. You don’t need me to tell you it won’t last forever.”
“I suppose." Luster nodded as they resumed their descent. "Thank you, Miss Belle. For the advice, and for everything you did with your prophecy.”
“Of course!" Sweetie stuck out her tongue in a way that seemed unbecoming for a creature of her age. "What else was I going to do, give the script to Webflix?”
Author's Note
The title isn't referring to Chancellor Puddinghead, but to Puddn'head Wilson. The full quote is "Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t." Blur the lines between them, and it's amazing what you can get to bleed through.
I definitely owe some inspirational credit to GaPJaxie's Dressing Room and the other stories set in its world where Friendship is Magic is a live-action series.
Oberea is named for O. tripunctata, a.k.a. the dogwood beetle. She specializes in animal roles too elaborate for actual trained animals.
The Bearers' earlier misadventures in Applewood took place in issue #66 of the IDW comics. It... could've gone worse?
This story isn't mutually canon with "Connected Through Friendship," but it does use the same characterization for Luster's Ponyville friends.
And as the spoiler noted, we're in the future of the Equestria connected to the Oversaturated World. Though I'd like to think the canon Twilight is just as willing to screw with the universe after all the times it's screwed with her. 
(For newcomers, the Crusaders of the OW are basically the Norns or Fates, with Sweetie acting as the voice of the future.)
