There is an infinite amount of space that stretches on past the farthest reaches of this earth. There are an ever expanding number of stars that reach on to forever, with their light pulsing ever onwards in an endless march. Empty palms, reaching for a never ending sky.
In Equestria, a unicorn looks at the sky and feels incredibly small. She wonders for a moment how much is up there, out there, hiding in the shadows behind the sun. She raises a hoof and tries to block out the moon, as if that very motion will obliterate all that is threatening to swallow her whole.
Standing on a street corner in Canterlot she shudders, and only blinks again when her companion nudges her. “What’s on your mind?” she asks.
The unicorn shudders and exhales, forming a small cloud. “It’s nothing, my dear,” she replies. “Merely… Thinking.”
“Thinking? You always say that’s my job, you know,” replies the other, poking her with a wingtip.
The unicorn rolls her eyes. “Oh, hush, you.”
Hearth’s Warming lights twinkle like stars, dangling like vines from rooftops.
“Come on. The girls are waiting! We’ll be late.”
The sentence echoes forever, one of a million other voices that weave together in an ethereal tapestry. They rose and fell and shattered against the shoreline at the edge of the universe. She could feel, hear, and see it all. Everything came and went, leaving behind tiny traces. Little groves in the wall of history.
It means nothing to her. It never has and never will.
Because when one is omniscient, beauty comes to mean nothing. Because beauty is temporal: flowers wilt, landscapes change, and ponies die. Forever marches onwards. She always has and always will.
There is no matter of being early and no matter of being late. There is simply only time.
“You could be anywhere, you know,” the unicorn says.
Her companion hums in response.
“You’re a genius. You could be anywhere, Twilight. So why here?”
Twilight is quiet, staring down into her coffee. She contemplates the question, and the stars above take delight in her solace. “It’s nice here. Quiet. Gives me the space to think.”
The unicorn chuckles. “Thinking isn’t everything, dear.”
“It’s gotten me this far.” She looks down at her napkin, where a series of numbers and figures are scribbled. “There’s so much more for us to try and understand.” At the center of her scribbles was a small, spherical looking object: nearly primitive in design. But at times, the tried and true methods worked best.
The world above certainly knew that.
“Perhaps.” The unicorn sighs and sets down some coins on the table. “Still. I can’t imagine why you would want to live in a place like this. See you tonight, dear.”
“See you.”
It would snow later. Then the sun would come out, and critters and ponies would emerge from their burrows and apartments to soak in its rays. Then it would snow and the snow would melt, then the sun would appear ceaselessly for months. Then it would all repeat again.
The universe watches as nature dances and paints upon its easel.
Everything swiftly and smoothly falls into place. It's a marvel in and of itself. But it’s all the stars can do to watch from millions of miles away, gazing in through a closed window. If it could feel, then perhaps it would be sad. But there’s not much anyone can do about it, other than revel in the beauty.
The universe often thinks of creating. It thinks of spinning space like silk, and stars like sequins, to make a tapestry unlike anything that anyone has ever seen before. Patterns fracturing forever.
There’s some kind of strange beauty hidden in forever.
If only those ponies could learn how to see it.
“Are you sure this is going to work, Twilight?”
“I checked the math again this morning. It’ll work.” The coffee machine bubbles and whines as it drips black liquid into a white ceramic cup.
“If you’re sure, then that’s good enough for me. Hey… How are you feeling?”
She considers this question carefully. “Hm. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You’ve been working on this forever now. There’s gotta be some reason, right? Why this? Why now?”
She sighs quietly. “There’s just… There’s so much out there. So much I want to understand. It’s so beautiful up there. Whenever I look up there, it feels so calming. Like the stars are wrapping me up in their embrace.” She runs a hoof gently over the sphere in front of her. “So… I guess this is like me hugging her back. Because it must be lonely up there. And nobody deserves to be alone for the holidays. Right?”
The universe has never considered the concept of loneliness. All it has ever known is infinity: something that leaves very little space for companionship.
Still, it does grant the unique gift of timelessness, letting moments bleed into each other in an endless, fluid motion.
“When I first came here, I wasn’t sure what to expect.” She pauses to hold onto the memory. “I was wondering if coming to a place like this was a mistake. But when the sun set and I saw the stars… I knew. I knew that this was the place I was meant to be.” She smiles, slightly, and wonders if the universe is smiling back upon her. “So I guess this is my gift to the stars, to repay the one they gave me all those years ago. Thank you.”
The sun is starting to set over the horizon. Its fading orange rays glint off of polished metal, bathing the tall metal structure in a warm glow. At its top sits a satellite, pointing at the sky. Palms open. Mind clear. Ready.
The rockets roar to life. A garbled voice begins a countdown that echoes through the valley. It goes unheard. “The Twilight Evening probe will seek to explore the farthest reaches of our universe. To go where we never have gone before. It’s named after her creator. Twilight Evening has always pondered what the universe’s plan is for us, and with tonight’s launch, we hope to find out.”
The craft rises, roaring like a dragon as it ascends through the clouds. It beeps and hums and chirps with a timid curiosity, as earth turns to sky.
“It’s funny, you know. All these different worlds out there, all those other galaxies… There’s so many chances out there for life. But we just don’t see it. We can’t find it. Not the way we enjoy it. So it really makes us a rarity, I suppose.”
In the inky darkness of space, a young satellite opens its eyes for the first time. It is met with a deep curtain of black, with more stars than it can ever imagine twinkling behind it. It is beautiful. I love you, it says.
I love you too, say the stars.
