Alarm Clock

Chapters

On a Wing and a Flayer (Afternoon One)
Dr. Hooves, or, How I Learned to Start Worrying and Fear the Green (Morning Two)
Interlude: Note Early, Note Often
The Foal-sitter’s Flub (Afternoon Two)
Demolition Derpy (Morning Three)
I Am the Eggmare (Afternoon Three)
Fridge Over Troubled Waters (Midnight)
Postlude: Morning Sixty-seven
Prelude: Cloud and Proud
Fae and Loathing in Ponyville (Morning One)
The Filly with the Moon in Her Head (The Morning After the World's Last Night)

On a Wing and a Flayer (Afternoon One)

Ditzy was halfway home from Fluttershy’s cottage when she noticed how high the sun was in the sky and remembered the difference in time flow between the sídhe and Equestria. She flew slightly higher so she could better see the clock tower.

“Twelve thirty-one already?! Omigosh I’m late I’m late I’m late I’m late ...”

Afternoon One: On a Wing and a Flayer

She raced as fast as she could over the rooftops, towards downtown. Upon finding the restaurant, Ditzy landed—with less grace than she thought possible—in the street just outside the patio. She pulled her face from the ground and shook the dirt away, then scanned the restaurant crowd. It only took a few seconds to find the mare Ditzy was supposed to be meeting. Even with her face hidden behind a menu, she was unmistakable: the healthy orange aura radiating from her hooves was a dead giveaway. Furthermore, she was the only patron at the restaurant who hadn’t turned to stare at Ditzy’s crash landing.

Rushing over to the table and taking the empty seat, Ditzy addressed her no-doubt-frustrated lunch date. “Carrot Top! I’m sorry I’m late I’m so so sorry I swear I didn’t mean to make you wait but this morning I got distracted and totally lost track of time—”

“What?” Carrot Top answered, setting the menu down and looking at Ditzy. “It’s twelve thirty-two. That’s—”

“Two whole minutes late!” Ditzy dropped her head to the table and crossed the cannons of both forelegs over her eyes. “I’m sorry!”

“Two minutes isn’t late, Ditzy.” She extended a hoof to pat Ditzy on the head. “It’s—”

“Worse than late?” Ditzy’s bottom lip wobbled precariously as she stared up at Carrot Top.

“Normal,” Carrot Top answered and resumed perusing the menu. “Perfectly normal.”

“Carrot Top, you wound me!” Ditzy closed her eyes, placed her hooves over her heart, and leaned backwards dramatically, stopping just short of falling over. “I’ve been called many things before, but normal is certainly not one of them!”

Carrot Top opened her mouth to reply, but closed it as the waiter approached. “Have the ladies come to a decision?” he asked.

“I’ll have what she’s having!” Ditzy announced.

“Oh, really ...” Carrot Top said, cocking an eyebrow at Ditzy. She then turned to the waiter and continued, “I’m feeling adventurous today. Where’s your carnivore menu?”

If the waiter was taken aback by this request, he did an excellent job at hiding it. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know, what do the dragons, griffins, and diamond dogs eat when they come here?”

“Eeeeeeeeewwwwww,” Ditzy said with an exaggerated sneer. “I’ve changed my mind.” She pointed a hoof in the waiter’s direction. “I’ll have what you’re having!”

The waiter snorted. Ditzy was surprised that his glare didn’t make both glasses of water on the table immediately freeze solid. “I’ll give you ladies a few more minutes to think about your order,” he said, his tone transforming the words into an implied threat. He turned and trotted away, his nose in the air.

As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, Carrot Top extended a hoof towards Ditzy; Ditzy bumped her own hoof against it. The two mares promptly collapsed into a fit of laughter.

“Aw yeah,” Ditzy said between gigglesnorts, “we’re making him work for that tip.”

“The look on his face!” Carrot Top exclaimed. “I think he was this close to kicking us out!” She chuckled a few more times before regaining her composure. “So, how has your day been, Ditzy? What happened this morning to make you fall short of your usual standards of punctuality?”

“Ooooooooohhhh ...” Sharing too much information about the morning’s activities could be dangerous. Ditzy considered what answer would derail this conversation most quickly. “It’s just been a strange day altogether. For example, when I woke up this morning, KTRT was replaying yesterday’s radio broadcast!”

“What? I was listening to them this morning and I didn’t notice anything unusual.”

“I swear it happened. Yesterday, at six-thirty, they played ... that song by that one-hit-wonder ska band. You know the one. Then Vinyl Scratch called Two Tone a hipster, and Two Tone accused Vinyl of being a vampire. This morning: same time, same station, same thing.”

“Yes ...” Carrot top tapped her chin with her hoof. “Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing that. Yesterday. The closest that happened this morning was when they played ‘Take the Neigh Train’. And then Two Tone called Vinyl a ‘breakbeat beatnik’ and no one in the studio could tell if that was supposed to be an insult or a compliment.”

“So ... you heard a perfectly normal broadcast?”

“Yep.”

“Great! That means there must be some problem with my radio! Which means I’ll have to take it to Alternating Current to get it fixed, which is gonna cost money ...” Ditzy dropped her head onto the table. “Argle bargle!”

“Really, Ditzy? I’ll admit I don’t know much about how radios work, but this can’t be that hard to fix.”

Ditzy groaned into the tablecloth.

Carrot Top placed a hoof on Ditzy’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t cost more than a hoofful of bits,” she added.

Carrot Top was right, of course. This was, by any reckoning, a minor inconvenience. Ditzy would have liked to claim that these early throes of a tizzy fit were an attempt at humor, but she truly was getting bent out of shape, far more than the situation warranted.

Celestia’s sake, she thought, scrunching her eyes shut, it’s not like I’ve ever cared this much about the radio before, so why is this upsetting me so much? I’m being so stupid! Stupid stupid stupid stupid! Why am I … Gaaaugh what the flying feather is wrong with me?! Why can’t I stop freaking out about this?! Am I not firing on all cylinders?! Is my brain chemistry fouled up?!

Ditzy’s eyes flew open. Wait, brain chemistry?! Yes, that’s it! That’s exactly … Uh oh, Carrot Top’s looking at me funny.

“Ditzy, are you okay?” Carrot Top’s eyes were wide, and her hoof was was still on Ditzy’s shoulder. “You kinda spaced out for a bit there.”

“I was just … thinking about what you said. You’re right! And I know what I need to do.”

Clearly, Ditzy thought, a visit to Xanthorgh The Flayer is in order. As soon as possible.

“Clearly,” Ditzy said, “a visit to The Muffin Emporium is in order. Immediately after lunch. My treat.”

“Honestly, I’m impressed this place is still in business,” Carrot Top said as she and Ditzy approached The Muffin Emporium. “Two bakeries in a town of Ponyville’s size?”

Ditzy answered, “Niches, Carrot Top, niches.” The bakers at Sugarcube Corner are the undisputed masters of sweet baked goods, Ditzy thought, and I respect them for that. But for the muffin connoisseurs seeking subtler flavors, Drury Lane at the Emporium is simply the best there is.

Uh oh, Carrot Top is looking at me funny—how much of that did I remember to say out loud? Oh well, too late to elaborate.

“Wait,” Ditzy said, stopping and flaring a wing to bar Carrot Top’s path. “Somedays, it’s a good day to die. Today, it’s a good day to stop and smell the muffins.”

“Can’t we smell them better inside?”

“No.”

The two of them stood there, at the very corner of The Muffin Emporium’s façade, their back hooves within reach of the alley between the Emporium and the neighboring clock store. The alley was quite narrow—too narrow to accommodate anypony larger than a foal ... at least not in three-dimensional space.

In seventh-dimensional space, however, there was enough room between the two shops for even Xanthorgh The Flayer’s fat abdomen. And when the two ponies paused at his threshold, with their backs exposed to him, that was Xanthorgh’s cue to get to work.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ditzy could see two of Xanthorgh’s jointed appendages probing into Carrot Top’s brain. A tickling sensation at the back of her head informed Ditzy that the same was happening to her own brain.

“Do you smell ...” Carrot top sniffed. “... hay bacon?”

“No, I smell basil,” Ditzy answered. “Mmmmmmmmm ...”

“Wow, you’re really onto something, Ditzy. I have no idea why, but this is incredibly relaxing.”

“Yeah. Muffins are just that awesome.”

Xanthorgh’s appendages, with at least one sharviika impaled on every claw, retracted from Carrot Top’s head. “I hadn’t even realized how stressed I was about tomorrow night,” she said. “But now, I can just tell everything is going to turn out fine ...”

“Tomorrow night?” Ditzy could feel her beta-endorphin levels normalizing with every sharviika that was plucked from her hypothalamus. She didn’t care about that radio anymore. It could start playing acid polka backwards for all she cared. She felt good. “You mean that opera you and Written Script are going to see?”

“Yeah ... But the foalsitter for Dinky cancelled earlier today ... I wasn’t sure who we could ask to fill in on such short notice ...”

“You don’t know who to ask to foalsit for Dinky?” Ditzy wished she were wearing sunglasses, so she could stare over them so as to properly convey her incredulity. “Seriously, Carrot Top?”

“Well, you’ve already done it so much. We didn’t want to impose ...”

“Seriously. Carrot Top. Seriously.”

“You’re offering to foalsit?”

“I’d love to! Seriously!”

The back of Ditzy’s head was no longer tickling. Clearly Xanthorgh couldn’t find any more brain parasites to remove.

“Alright!” Ditzy chirped as she trotted forward. “That’s enough anticipation. It’s muffin time!”

At the threshold of the Emporium, Ditzy glanced over her shoulder, back towards the alley. Xanthorgh was chewing on the flayed corpses of sharviikas with all six of his mouths. He paused to wave at Ditzy. She winked in response, then entered the bakery.

Ditzy froze at the sight of the bounty within. “By Celestia ...”

At her side, Carrot Top could only muster a “Huh.”

“Are those ...”

“Yesirree,” Drury Lane answered. “Spinach-basil-and-hay-bacon muffins! Just finished baking a batch. You ladies interested?”

Ditzy’s eyes were roughly the size of dinner plates. “Am I ever!”

When Ditzy returned home, she found a plant on the apartment complex’s front stoop. It was housed in an ornate pot, carved from white wood. Next to the pot was a scroll of silk-smooth parchment covered in gorgeous, extravagantly illuminated calligraphy. It was written entirely in Faelic. Ditzy couldn’t read a word of it—her memory of the fia alphabet was even worse than her recall of Early Modern Equine.

She carried both up to her apartment. The parchment, she placed on her refrigerator door with a magnet. The plant, she placed on her kitchen windowsill, where it could receive plenty of moonlight.

Before climbing into bed, Ditzy glanced at her alarm clock, wondering if there really was something wrong with it. Perhaps if she ignored the problem, it would just go away.

Author's Note

I heavily edited this chapter since originally publishing it. The edited version went live on 2 February 2015.

For historical purposes, I've preserved the original version on Gdocs, here.

Dr. Hooves, or, How I Learned to Start Worrying and Fear the Green (Morning Two)

The problem didn’t just go away.

“She wanted advice,
I told her I can’t help, I’m bu-u-sy.
It’s just an average daaaa—”

Ditzy trotted towards Alternating Current’s repair shop, her misbehaving alarm clock balanced on her back. She rounded a corner and was suddenly blinded by a purple light.

Cringing, she bit back a cry of pain. Then she said, her voice as neutral as she could manage, “Morning, Twilight Sparkle. You’re up earlier than usual.”

“Hiiiiiiiii, Ditzy Doo!” Twilight answered. Ditzy couldn’t see her face, as usual, but she could guess that Twilight was wearing some manner of deranged smile. “Technically I’m up much later than usual, haha! Got a new textbook on magilectronics, couldn’t stop at just one chapter, one thing led to another, and suddenly the sun was rising and I need more coffee! You know how it goes!”

“Can’t say I do, actually.” Ditzy’s sight was returning, so she looked intently at her hooves.

From the sound of hoofsteps and the direction of the light, Ditzy could tell that Twilight was circling her. “You’ve never pulled an all-night study session? You ... you’re derived! … Wait, did I just say ... Wow, I really do need more coffee. Why do you have a clock on your back?”

“What? Oh, this is just my alarm clock. It’s been acting funny lately, so I’m taking it to Alternating Current to get it repaired.”

“Ha! That’s great news!” The speed of Twilight’s hoofsteps intensified, but she didn’t move—she was prancing in place. “No, wait, that’s not what I mean! I mean that dovetails perfectly with my current field of study. I could fix this for you!”

“No, that’s okay—”

“I can use the practice, Ditzy!”

The purple light grew brighter. Even though she was looking down, Ditzy had to close her eyes to avoid being blinded again. The slight weight on her back disappeared as Twilight telekinetically picked up the alarm clock.

“I’ll fix it for free!” Twilight continued. Her hoofsteps and voice grew louder as she sidled up next to Ditzy. “And if I make it worse somehow, I’ll buy you a new one! Whaddaya say to that?!”

“Sounds ... like ... an offer I can’t refuse?”

“That’s the spirit, Ditzy, haha! Oh, speaking of magilectricity ...”

Ditzy started as Twilight threw a foreleg over her shoulder, then pulled her close enough for a conspiratorial whisper. Well, Twilight’s words weren’t quite a whisper, but they were an admirable attempt nonetheless: “Ditzy Doooo, I think you’ve got an admirer!”

“What?”

“Don’t turn, but Dr. Hooves is on the far side of the street, and he’s looking your way! He’s pretty interested, if you ask me!”

“Doctor ... Wait, is he the earth pony with the, um, stare that could cut glass?”

“Haha, sounds like you’ve already met him!” Twilight’s foreleg was no longer over Ditzy’s shoulder. It was instead nudging her in the ribs. “And you know what they say about doctors, right, Ditzy?!”

“No, I have no idea. What do they say about doctors?”

“Ummmm, I don’t know either. I was kind of hoping you knew.”

“Twilight ... this conversation is getting kind of weird.”

“Haha, yeah.” Ditzy heard the rustling of a mane—it sounded as though Twilight was shaking her head. “I think I should go and get some more coffee.” Receding hoofsteps heralded her departure. “See you later!”

Morning Two: Dr. Hooves
or
How I Learned to Start Worrying and Fear the Green

As soon as the purple light had faded to a tolerable level, Ditzy opened her eyes and turned to look behind her. Sure enough, the hourglass pony from the previous morning was staring at her intently from across the street. One of her eyes briefly met his gaze, and Dr. Hooves immediately turned and trotted down the street, whistling to himself. It wasn’t the worst attempt at feigned nonchalance Ditzy had ever seen, but it was a strong contender.

Ditzy followed him.

Dr. Hooves glanced back and broke into a full gallop.

“Hey!” Ditzy called, lifting off to pursue the doctor. She wasn’t the fastest flier, but she was clearly quicker on the wing than he was on hoof. She gained on him rapidly.

She was only a dozen feet behind him when he swerved left and ducked into an alley. Ditzy, taken completely by surprise, overshot it. She made a quick and graceless about-face and darted into the alley herself.

It was completely empty. There was no sign of Dr. Hooves, nor anything large enough to hide him. Ditzy flew to the end of the alley as quickly as she could and scanned around both corners. Still, she saw neither hide nor hair of the fleeing stallion.

“Oh, come on,” Ditzy muttered to herself. She flew higher, above the rooftops, hoping to catch some sign of Dr. Hooves from the air. The doctor continued to elude her. However, something else caught her eye, something close to Ponyville Town Hall. She scanned one last time for Dr. Hooves, in vain, then snorted and turned towards Town Hall.

As she landed, Ditzy saw her initial impression was wrong. The unusual sight wasn’t near Town Hall. It was Town Hall: one of the pillars framing the Hall’s rear entrance glowed green. To be specific, it was a sickly green with a jaundiced afterimage, hints of magenta, and an unmistakable undercurrent of saltiness—but “green” was close enough. However, the pillar’s wrongness was something more than this new color and luminescence, though Ditzy couldn’t quite put her hoof on how. Then she noticed how strangely the shadow of the adjacent pillar fell on this one.

“Ah, depth perception,” she said, “my one weakness.”

The green pillar had become inverted. The edge which should have been closest to Ditzy was now farthest away—the pillar now appeared concave rather than convex—without a single atom of the pillar being disturbed from its place.

A spatial anomaly, and green at that, Ditzy thought, and sighed. Why did it have to be green? That means tachyon radiation, and that means the cause has yet to hap—

“By the goddess, she’s right,” a voice said from behind Ditzy. “Time Turner, you really dropped the ball on this one.”

Ditzy turned and found Dr. Hooves standing behind her. His attention was focused on a boxy, metal device strapped to the barrel of his right foreleg, pointed directly at the glowing pillar.

“What?” Ditzy said. “Where did you … How did you get ...”

She noticed that his appearance had changed drastically since she last saw him. He was covered in scratches, particularly on his face. One of his eyes was black and nearly swollen shut. His mane had pieces of gravel in it, and looked as though the doctor had disheveled it, then hastily combed it back into place.

“Did you fall out of a tree and hit every branch on the way down?”

Dr. Hooves finally looked at Ditzy and smiled. “Oh, if you think I look bad, you should see the other pony.”

“You got into a fight? In the … two minutes since I last saw you?”

“Ditzy, dearest, there is a very good explanation for all of this. And all the money in the world couldn’t tempt me to deprive you of your personal journey towards that explanation.”

Ditzy glared. “Are you saying you won’t tell me … or that you don’t know yourself?”

“See, you’re already figuring it out!”

Ditzy shook her head and stepped forward. “How did you get here from that alley without me seeing you?”

“Ah ah ah.” Dr. Hooves stood firm and continued smiling. “That would be telling!”

Ditzy took a few more steps towards the doctor. “What are you doing? Why are you following me?” she asked.

“That would also be telling.”

Ditzy stepped closer. “What’s going on? What do you know about ...” She waved a hoof at the spatial anomaly on Town Hall. “... that?”

“That would be running a punchline into the ground.”

Ditzy stepped even closer, leveling her harshest glare at the doctor. They were now close enough that either pony could reach out and touch the other’s face with a forehoof—and Dr. Hooves did.

He pressed his hoof into Ditzy’s nose and proclaimed, “Boop!” with a giddy laugh. “That makes us even!” He then turned and galloped towards the edge of the town square, away from Town Hall and away from Ditzy. “Ta-ta!”

Stunned into inaction, Ditzy watched him for a few seconds before setting off in pursuit, again. This gave Dr. Hooves just enough of a lead to round the corner onto Stirrup Street a few seconds before Ditzy—and to completely disappear, again, in those few seconds.

“Oh come on!” Ditzy shouted into the sky, before landing and bucking the air.

“Are you alright, love?” This new, cheerful voice emanated from a wall of white, brown, and blue: a massive earth pony stallion in a police uniform.

“Yes, Constable Peeler, I’m fine,” Ditzy said. “Did you see Dr. Hooves come this way?”

“No, can’t say I’ve laid eyes on the chap this fine morning. Might I inquire why you’re looking for him?”

“Oh ... I just need to ask him some questions.”

“Well, I’ll be certain keep my eyes peeled and pass your concern along to the good doctor if I run across him.” Peeler turned to leave, then froze. “What,” he said, his voice taking a tone of horror, “is that?”

Ditzy followed his gaze and saw a piece of crumpled paper at the edge of town square. “Um, it looks like litter?”

“And not three feet away from a dustbin!” He picked up the litter and threw it into the trash can in question. “Shameful. Just shameful.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

“It always starts with the little rules. Littering. Leash regulations. Curfews. But it never ends there, Ditzy. If we let those hooligans get away with this, what will we ultimately get?”

“Anarchy,” Ditzy answered, her voice flat.

“Anar— Yes, precisely!” Peeler beamed with satisfaction. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off to organize a cleanup. Town Hall and its vicinity will need to be in tip-top shape for the celebration tomorrow. Good day!”

Peeler trotted into town square. Ditzy furrowed her brows in thought. A celebration tomorrow? Interesting...

“Alright, Derpy,” Cloudchaser said, looking up from the schedule before her. “Next gust is coming up.”

Ditzy pulled a mid-sized bag from the pile at her side. Holding it in place with her forehooves, she untied its drawstrings with her mouth. “Ready! Tell me when!”

“Ehhh.” Cloudchaser gave a cursory glance at her watch. “Whenevs.”

Grabbing the bag in her mouth, Ditzy emptied its contents over the side of the cloud. Cloudchaser propelled them down with a single hard flap of her wings. Below, the leaves of every tree rustled as the just-freed winds blew toward Ponyville.

Ditzy could understand why so many of her fellow pegasi considered wind seeding the most boring duty in the entire weather patrol, but she personally didn’t mind. When assigned to do the job by herself, she appreciated the time alone with her own thoughts. And when assigned to work with a partner, as was the case today, it was a good opportunity to gather information.

“Oh, yeah, Cloudchaser,” Ditzy said, “I heard about some sort of celebration tomorrow. Do you know if we’re getting time off for that?”

“Pfft. I wish. Only pony who’s getting time off is Rainbow Dash, and that’s because she insisted on decorating Town Hall herself.”

“Really? Why’d she do that?”

“Well, Sassaflash tells me the whole shindig is for Dash’s girlfriend, what’s her name ...”

“Fluttershy?”

“What?” Cloudchaser’s tone of voice, and the incredulous look she shot at Ditzy, said Are you crazy? far more clearly than words ever could. “No. Did Rainbow Dash compete against Fluttershy in that Iron Pony competition? Were Dash and Fluttershy constantly slipping away from the other racers during last year’s Running Of The Leaves? When Dash was blowing hot air about writing an autobiography, was Fluttershy the one she offered to be ‘immortalized as her friend’?”

Ditzy cocked her head to the side. “I don’t follow.”

“I’m saying that Dash is totally going out with ... with ... that cowpony from the apple farm. Applejuice or Appletini or whatever her name is.”

“Oooooh. So she’s the one this ceremony tomorrow is about?”

“That’s what I’m told. Which is weird, because miss applebucker already had a ‘This pony’s so awesome, everypony kiss her flank!’ party last year. I don’t even know what’s up with that.” Cloudchaser glanced down at her watch and immediately perked up. “Hey, look at the time! Just one more gust, and then we’ve got lunch break.”

“Ready! Tell me when!”

“It doesn’t matter, Derpy,” Cloudchaser said with a sigh. “Rocket surgery, this isn’t.”

Author's Note

I heavily edited this chapter since originally publishing it. The edited version went live on 2 February 2015.

For historical purposes, I've preserved the original version on Gdocs, here.

Interlude: Note Early, Note Often

In all things, balance, Mayor Mare thought. She sighed.

She had enjoyed her monthly lunch with Ponyville’s Agricultural Council. Apparently, she had enjoyed it a little too much, because at the end, the Council gave her something to tip the scales in the opposite direction: a thick stack of phytosanitary inspection request forms to read and approve.

As she carried the forms into her office, she noticed the acrid odor of the recently-used thermofax, but she thought nothing of it. Glancing at her file cabinets, she noticed the “Land deeds and blueprints: P – R” drawer was open slightly. She kicked it shut with a rear hoof as she walked past, making a mental note to speak with the secretary about closing the drawers.

A note lay in the center of her desk. She slid it to the side and dropped the stack of phytosanitary forms on that now-vacant spot.

After staring at the stack for a few seconds, she groaned and turned to the note. It was written by mouth, on a sheet of her own “From the desk of the Mayor” stationary.

dear mayor mare,
is it alright if i use your thermowhatsit to make a copy of some blueprints from your file cabinet? because i did. i would have asked you first, but you were out for lunch and my lunch break was almost over and there wasn’t enough time. thanks!
sincerely,
ditzy doo

The Mayor wore a wry smile. If she wished, she could fine Ditzy for her blatant failure to use the proper document-acquisition channels. However, the proper channels involved more time and more forms, and Mayor Mare was in no mood to punish anypony whose outside-the-box thinking resulted in less paperwork on her desk. She crumpled the note and tossed it in her wastebasket, then pulled the first phytosanitary form off the stack.

Interlude: Note Early, Note Often

When Twilight Sparkle woke up, the first thing she realized was that her neck ached. The second was that the side of her face was uncomfortably damp. The third, and most troubling, was that she couldn’t recall going to bed. Her last memory was of finishing her preliminary examination of Ditzy’s alarm clock, then cracking open another textbook ...

Twilight bolted upright and opened her eyes. She was not in her bed, or even in her bedroom, but on the floor of the Golden Oaks Library basement. She looked at the table where her head had been resting, and she cringed at the puddle of drool she had left there. Silently thanking Celestia that none of it had touched her books, she grabbed a rag to wipe it up.

“Spike!” she called upstairs, “How long was I asleep?”

“What?” Spike poked his head through the open basement door. “You’re already awake?”

“What do you mean, ‘already’?” Twilight tossed the wet rag to the side and turned to look her number one assistant directly in the eyes.

“Oh!” Spike scratched the back of his head. “I may have, sorta, you know, replaced your coffee with decaf.”

“What?!”

“I was worried, Twilight! You know that much caffeine isn’t good for anypony—”

“How did I mistake decaf for real coffee?”

“—and you needed to get some rest ... Wait, what?”

“Oh, Spike.” Twilight trotted over and patted him on the head. “You’re right, I did need that rest. I appreciate you looking out for me, even if your methods were unnecessarily surreptitious.”

“I wouldn’t say unnecessary ...”

“And considering I drank decaf without even noticing, I must have been out of it pretty badly.” She turned back to the work table. “But, thanks to that nap, I’m feeling alert and ready to fix ...” Twilight’s brows furrowed. Something was missing. “Spike, where did you move the alarm clock?”

“Der— I mean, Ditzy took it back. She came by about noon, insisted on taking the clock ...” Spike produced a parchment scroll from behind his back and handed it to Twilight. “... and she left this note for you.”

Twilight unrolled the parchment and found that it was actually two pages. She began reading the first:

twilight sparkle,
i appreciate your offer to fix my alarm clock. but i really need it back now. i also have something even more important for you to help with! i’m writing a DARING DO fanfic! the climax of the story is going to happen in the tllamapan temple. you know all about that history stuff, so how accurate is my sketch of the temple? ...

Twilight skimmed the rest of the note and looked at the second page. It contained the promised sketch—a surprisingly precise and detailed one—of the alleged temple.

“Spike,” Twilight said, with a glint in her eyes and the hint of a smile on her lips, “we have a reference request. One from a budding author, at that. She wants to know about the layout of the Great Temple of Tllamapan, so I need you to help find all our books on comparative religion, ancient architecture, or Neighxican history.”

“On it!”

Spike ran up the stairs as quickly as his short legs would allow, and Twilight trotted after him. Upon entering the main room of the library, Twilight paused and tensed—something else was out of place. She turned to the horn-written research notes covering the nearby cork board stand. Her examination found that no sheets were missing; they had simply been moved around. Twilight relaxed.

“Spike,” she said, “has someone been rearranging my ancient languages research?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, balancing on top of the ladder. “That was Ditzy again. She was really interested in your notes about that language with the weird alphabet, but she wouldn’t say why.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

Rainbow Dash opened her eyes and saw nothing but yellow.

“Bluh!” She flailed her forehooves in the air and brushed something very close to her head. She swiped again, and suddenly the blue sky was visible once more. Movement caught the corner of Dash’s eye. She turned and saw that the object which had been obscuring her vision—a piece of paper—was now fluttering over the cloud’s edge. She snorted and leaped into the open air below, to snatch up the paper in her hooves.

It was a note, addressed to her. She rolled her eyes and returned to her cloud bed with the paper. Without even reading it, she could already guess who it was from. Only one pegasus in Ponyville would ever think to leave Rainbow Dash a note by taping it to her face while she slept.

rainbow dash,
i’m leaving this note because i know how much you hate it when somepony bothers your naps. you’re decorating town hall for the celebration tomorrow, right? i really want to help! i’m not asking to get out of weather patrol for the day. i’ll do my full shift and help with the decorations on my own time if that’s what it takes!
sincerely,
ditzy doo

“What the hay?” Dash said to herself.

Author's Note

I heavily edited this chapter since originally publishing it. The edited version went live on 2 February 2015.

For historical purposes, I've preserved the original version on Gdocs, here.

The Foal-sitter’s Flub (Afternoon Two)

Two minutes! Ditzy thought as she rushed into her kitchen. Only two minutes left in my lunch break! Aloud, she said, “Gotta eat fast and salad’s too slow!” She yanked two banana nut muffins from her breadbox and shoved them into her saddlebag.

Before she could turn to leave, a glint of light from the windowsill caught her eye. The plant in the white pot had flowered overnight. Ditzy’s eyes widened at the golden petals, gleaming in the sun.

Some extra pocket change will be nice, she thought as she plucked the flowers and deposited them in the smallest pocket of her saddlebag.

She then dashed out her front door and took to the skies. She reached the rendezvous point for the afternoon’s cloud-moving team with seconds to spare.

It was a full five minutes before any of the other weather pegasi arrived.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique and magnifique!” Rarity gave her head just enough of a shake to send her mane tumbling over her shoulder. “What are you in the mood for, Derpy?”

It was late afternoon. Ditzy’s weather patrol shift was over; she only had this one stop before heading to Carrot Top’s house.

“Actually, I just—” Ditzy glanced nervously at the various garments and accessories surrounding her. This was, in fact, her first visit to Rarity’s shop, and she was beginning to wonder if this was a mistake. She looked again at the numerous ponnequins modeling the clothes for sale.

Not all the clothes are the same, she thought, but what’s the difference? Why are some of them better than others? There’s too many garments and styles for one pony to deal with!

Ditzy forced her gaze away from the oppressive sea of fabric, towards Rarity, but found no relief there. Rarity had taken Ditzy’s silence as an excuse to begin shoving wares in her face. “A scarf, perhaps? I know you pegasi don’t get cold very easily, but nothing is quite so dashing as a pegasus in a scarf.”

“No, I—”

“How about a hat? I have chapeaus for every occasion, in colors to complement your coat most copacetically.”

“Really, all I need—”

“Flight goggles to protect those lovely eyes of yours? Functional and fashionable!”

“I’m not here to buy anything!”

The articles Rarity had been levitating all fell to the ground. Ditzy clapped a hoof over her mouth and blushed slightly. She hadn’t meant to shout quite so loud.

“Really?” Rarity’s lower lip stuck forward. She sniffled once before shaking her mane and regaining her composure. “Very well then, why are you here?”

“You do jewelry appraisals, right? Precious metals?”

“Well, that’s more of a side business, but gemstones are a specialty of mine, and precious metals are but a hop and a skip removed, are they not?”

Ditzy poked her snout into her saddlebag and pulled out one of the flowers. Blue light enveloped it as Rarity grasped it in her telekinesis.

“How interesting,” she said, then carried the flower into her back workroom.

“That’s good, right?” Ditzy asked. She followed Rarity into the room and found the unicorn examining the flower with a magnifying lens. The blue glow surrounding the bloom intensified and waned as Rarity cast various spells—spells Ditzy had never seen before. “How much is ‘interesting’ worth?”

“Not as much as it should be, I’m afraid.” Rarity sighed. “This gold is only five, six carat at the most.”

“Oh.”

“On the other hoof! This is solid alloy, rather than plate, and the piece displays exquisitely detailed craftsmanship. ... You wouldn’t happen to know who the artist is, would you? Pity, I would so love to see what they could accomplish with proper materials. In any case, the finished piece is worth more than its mere value as a metal.”

“So...”

“The most I can offer you for it is eight bits, Derpy. And I suspect any jeweler you speak with would offer even less.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing, I guess.” Ditzy reached into her saddlebag to retrieve the other flowers. “I’ve got nine total, so that’s 72 bits?”

“Oh, you have several you want to sell? Well, in that case...” Rarity glanced from side to side before continuing. “You didn’t hear this from me, but you could earn more by selling them yourself at the flea market.”

“What?”

“By cutting out the middlemare and selling directly to the consumer, all the bits from the transaction go into your saddlebags.”

“You’ve been to the flea market?”

Rarity closed her eyes and turned her snout up. “I can neither confirm nor deny those—” Her eyes snapped open. “Oh, oh! Ideeeeea!” She rushed to the other side of the workroom, sorted through the haphazard stacks of paper over there, and returned to Ditzy bearing a sketch.

“You see this formal gown design?” Rarity said. “I never got around to making it, because it lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. But...” She lifted a pencil to the page and sketched. “I believe those gold flowers are just what this gown needs to truly shine! Although...” She tapped the pencil against her chin. “Nine isn’t quite enough.”

Rarity looked up at Ditzy before continuing, “Derpy, you keep those flowers for now and do as you will with them. But, if you can bring me twenty flowers, that would be enough for the gown, and for that I could pay you very handsomely.”

Afternoon Two: The Foal-Sitters Flub

Ditzy raised her hoof to Carrot Top’s front door, then paused. A picture came to her mind, unbidden: the green spatial anomaly on the Town Hall. It was spreading. During her visit to the Mayor’s office, she had seen that the entire pillar was glowing green—as were portions of both adjacent pillars. If that rate holds, she thought, then the entire Hall will be consumed within ...

She shook her head. “I can’t do anything about Town Hall until I have more than a hunch to work off,” she muttered. Until I hear back from Twilight Sparkle. Fretting about it before then won’t do Ponyville any good.

She knocked. A unicorn opened the door. With his slight build, delicate features, and violet mane—and a matching aura radiating from his horn—he was not Equestria’s most masculine stallion. “Honey!” he said, shouting to someone inside the house, “I win! She’s here!”

Ditzy’s quizzical expression prompted him to explain: “Carrot and I had a little bet about how early you’d be, Ditzy. Come in, come in!”

She stepped in, circled once to get a good look at the mostly familiar foyer, then turned back to her host. “Wow, Written Script,” she said, “you’ve got even more inspirational needlepoints and paintings of lighthouses than you did last time I was here!”

“Well, you’ll have to ask Carrot about the lighthouses,” Written Script said, “cause I still don’t see the appeal. But I am rather proud of my new needlepoint hangings. Here, I finished this one the other day, and I think it’s my best yet!”

He indicated, with his horn, the hanging in question. It was an ocean sunset, a windsurfing turtle, and a quote about how friendship has survival value and gives value to survival.

“Niiiiice,” Ditzy said.

“If you ask me,” Carrot Top said as she entered the foyer, “the space whale was your magnum opus, honey. And your career ever since has just been a slow decline.”

“Philistine!” Written Script answered. With an exaggerated sigh, he turned to Ditzy. “You hear that? No true artist is appreciated in his own time.”

“But true artists also go crazy and die young.” Carrot Top gave Written Script a peck on the lips. “And we can’t have that now, can we? Anyway...”

She nudged her husband towards the front door, then turned to Ditzy. “Thanks again for doing this. Well, you know the routine.” She stepped out as well.

“No problem at all. Have a good time at the show!” Ditzy waved to the departing couple before closing the door. She then turned an ear towards a sound coming from upstairs and froze as she recognized it.

“On the way to my art history class,
I saved five ponies,
drowning in a lake!”

Ditzy clambered up the stairs as fast as she could, bumping into the sides of the stairwell twice on the way.

“When I got home, I got a note ...”

She rounded the corner and galloped down the hallway.

“... from a mare we all call the Princess!”

She realized the music was becoming quieter, so she skidded to a halt and turned around.

“She wanted advice,
I told her I can’t help ...”

She found the room that was the source of the music and burst through its doorway. Too late, she realized her forward momentum was much greater than she had intended.

“... I’m busy!
It’s just an average daaaaaaaaay...”

Ditzy planted her hooves on the floor and beat her wings to slow herself. Her skidding slowdown gave her just enough time to recognize the source of the song: That’s no radio, she thought. It’s a record player.

Ditzy came to a halt a dozen feet away from the phonograph and only a few feet shy of the unicorn filly occupying the floor in front of it.

Oh, wow, Ditzy thought.

Dinky Doo, her eyes closed and oblivious to Ditzy’s sudden entrance, continued dancing. She swayed from side to side, she bounced from her rear hooves to her fore hooves and back again, and she twirled her tail. Ditzy, watching, slapped both forehooves over her mouth to hold in her laughter.

Eventually, Dinky was so overcome by the music that she bounced on all four hooves as she sang along:

“Turned on the ra-hey-di-o,
to see what’s on,
but to my surprise,
the lottery was on,
it was— Ooof!”

Dinky leaped right into Ditzy’s belly. After landing on her rump, she finally opened her eyes. “Ditzy Doo!” she said as she smiled even wider than before and stood back up. “Come on, dance with me!”

“Haha, I’m all danced-out for the day,” Ditzy replied. “Go on, don’t let me stop you.”

“But your favorite song is playing!” Dinky waved her hoof towards the phonograph.

“Favorite?” Ditzy narrowed her eyes. “Let me guess, was it your mom who told you this was my favorite song?”

Dinky nodded.

“And did she suggest that you play it for me tonight?”

Another nod.

Well played, Carrot Top, well played, Ditzy thought. You win this round.

“Sooooooo ...” Ditzy walked over to the phonograph and picked up the empty LP sleeve at its side. The cover art depicted a sheep wearing a comical snarl on his face and holding a bowling ball. “Did your mom actually hold onto this album since high school, or did she go out and buy it yesterday, just to mess with me?”

“Waaaiit ... this isn’t really your favorite song?” Dinky said, dragging a forehoof across the floor.

“This song and I have a ... complicated relationship. I don’t dislike it, but ...” Ditzy set the LP sleeve down. “Let’s just say I’ve been hearing it too many times this past week.”

“Well, I really like it! And the rest of the album, too, even though all the songs sound the same.”

“And I really liked your dancing.”

At that, Dinky beamed. Then she took notice of the phonograph: the record had reached its end and stopped playing. “Hey,” she said, “you wanna put another record on? Mom won’t let me touch her records with my hooves.”

“Can’t you just do that unicorn thing? Use your telemawhatsis?”

The smile on Dinky’s face abruptly disappeared, and a scowl assumed its place. “Telekinesis.”

“Yeah, can’t you use that?”

“No. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Magic lessons not going well?”

“La la la la not talking about it!” Dinky clamped her forehooves over her ears. “La la la la laaaaaaaaaaa!”

That bad, huh? Ditzy thought. She looked at Dinky’s horn and noticed … nothing. There wasn’t even the faintest hint of an aura on the filly’s horn. I think I know what’s going on here.She walked over and placed a hoof on the filly’s shoulder.

“Hey Dinky,” she said, “would it make you feel any better to know that I was one of the last ones in my class to learn how to fly?”

“No.” Dinky continued scowling but removed her hooves from her ears.

“But the weird thing was that all the instructors told me my form was perfect! I was doing everything a pegasus filly is supposed to do, but I just wasn’t catching any air.”

“Why not?”

“My ley lines were misaligned. You’ve learned about pegasus magic in school, right?”

“Yep! It’s how you can fly.”

“That’s right! And because of my messed-up ley lines, all the magic that should have gone into my wings was shooting out my tail instead.” Ditzy wiggled her haunches and flicked her tail. At that, Dinky snickered.

Ditzy removed her hoof from Dinky’s shoulder and used it to scratch the filly’s head between the ears. From this close, she could see the back of Dinky’s head—in particular, she could see a cone of faint, golden light poking out of Dinky’s mane.

“And that’s why I couldn’t fly,” Ditzy said. “Once the teachers figured out what was going on, it was no trouble at all to clear it right up.”

Ditzy continued scratching. Dinky smiled slightly and leaned into the pegasus. Ditzy could see that, as the filly relaxed, the cone of light crept forward on her head.

“First, I had to unlearn the bad magic-channeling habits I had taught myself. Then, I had to let the ley lines re-form properly. You know how I did that?”

“How?”

“By relaxing, and letting the magic take care of itself.”

“Sounds boring.”

“A little. But it worked. A week and a half of magic therapy got me flying where two months of flight training didn’t.”

Dinky closed her eyes as Ditzy continued scratching. The cone of light had passed the top of her head, and continued creeping towards her horn.

Dinky broke the silence. “Hey,” she said, “that thing with the ley lines?”

“Yes?”

“Does that only happen to pegasus ponies? Or can it happen to anypony? Like, an earth pony, maybe.”

Yeeeeees, Ditzy thought. “Maaaaaaaaybe,” Ditzy said. She continued scratching, noting that the light had almost reached Dinky’s horn.

“And it’s not hard to fix?” Dinky sounded very relaxed, as if she were beginning to lose consciousness.

“Easy as pie.”

The cone of light was now directly over Dinky’s horn.

“Hey,” Ditzy said, “would you mind picking up that record sleeve for me?”

“Okay,” Dinky said, sleepily. The light on her horn grew slightly brighter, and the empty record sleeve lifted off the ground, slowly rising a few feet into the air.

“Yesssss,” Ditzy whispered.

“Huh?” Dinky’s eyes snapped open. The light on her horn flickered and disappeared. The record sleeve flew up, struck the ceiling edge-first, and did not come back down.

“Whaaaaaaaa ... how did … ?” Dinky stammered, her gaze bouncing between Ditzy and the record sleeve embedded in the ceiling. “How the ... what?” When Dinky looked at the ceiling, Ditzy couldn’t help but notice that the cone of gold light had returned to the back of the filly’s head.

“Sometimes, you just need to relax and let these things take care of themselves.” Ditzy scratched Dinky’s head one last time, then trotted towards the hall. “Are you hungry? I’m starving. Why don’t you wash up, and we’ll get some dinner.”

Ditzy paused in the hallway, near the top of the stairs. “Dinky,” she called, “is this mirror new?”

“Yeah!” Dinky called from the bathroom. “Mom got it a week ago.”

“Hmmm...” Ditzy leaned forward to inspect the mirror more closely. It was an oval design, taller than wide, and set in a stained mahogany frame. “Did she say anything about this mirror being magic?”

“No, she didn’t say anything about getting me a little sister.”

“Little sister? What?”

Dinky poked her head out the bathroom door. “Mom says magic mirrors are where foals come from.”

“What? No. I—I—I mean ... yes! Your mom is very smart and exactly right and you should definitely listen to her. Are you done washing up?”

Dinky disappeared back into the bathroom. Ditzy leaned even closer to the mirror. Her reflection stared back out—well, one eye stared back out, while the other gazed to the upper right—but behind it, Ditzy could see something. It was just a hint of a shadow of a nameless shape of an enigma, but it didn’t correspond to anything in the hallway behind Ditzy.

She extended one hoof to the mirror, and it passed through the surface with only the slightest bit of higher-dimensional finagling.

Great, she thought. Just what this house needs. A second spatial anomaly.

Ditzy extended her other hoof through the mirror, then, inhaling and holding her breath, she pushed her head through.

First, Ditzy noticed the sky. It was a bright midday—even though the sun had just set back in Ponyville. Either this place is a completely different time zone from Ponyville, Ditzy thought, or this portal is temporally and spatially displaced. Assuming I’m still on the same planet. In fact, the more she examined the sky, the more alien it appeared. Although it was a familiar shade of blue, it was dotted by stretched, white splotches —funhouse mirror distortions of Equestrian clouds.

Second, Ditzy’s gaze followed the sky down to the horizon, and she found herself even more confused. The ground below simply ended less than a hundred feet away. The apparent cliff edge—far too smooth to be natural—traced a circle, as far as Ditzy could see. The ground itself was completely white and dotted with white spheres. It looked like snow, yet the air was warm and incredibly humid—distinctly un-wintery. The only break in the white ground was a single wrought-iron lamp, standing to the far right.

Third, Ditzy considered the portal she was leaning through. At last, she found something that didn’t completely bewilder her. This end of the mirror portal was a top-floor window on a four-story, red brick building—an apartment complex, if Ditzy had to guess.

The longer Ditzy examined this scene, however, the more puzzling she found it. The building was closer in size to her first apartment in Manehattan than to her current place in Ponyville. Yet there was no sign that anypony actually lived here. The ground was, as far as Ditzy could see, completely deserted. No movement caught her eye; no sound, not even the wind, caught her ear; no scents came to her nose.

Wait, Ditzy thought, looking again at the horizon, that’s no cliff edge, that’s a—

Something caught Ditzy’s tail and yanked her backwards.

Ditzy landed awkwardly on the hallway floor and sprawled on her belly.

“Rrr ooo okhay?” Dinky asked. Her voice was muffled by Ditzy’s tail, grasped in her teeth, but the concern in her tone was obvious.

“Yeah ...” Ditzy said, “I’m fine.”

Dinky spat Ditzy’s tail out, then rushed forward to throw her forelegs around Ditzy’s neck. “Thank goodness!” Releasing her embrace, Dinky scowled at the mirror. “Come on! Help me find something to smash the magic mirror with!”

“No,” Ditzy said, “that’s not a good idea.”

“But it tried to eat you!”

Ditzy sighed and began massaging her temple with a forehoof. “No, I was investigating it. I stuck my head in that portal, of my own free will.”

“Ooooohhh.” Dinky’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Ditzy shrugged, then sat up. “A little. But nothing I can’t handle. I have years of experience on my side.”

“Cooooooooool! What kind of experience?”

“Well, for starters there’s ...” Ditzy’s face grew pale as her words trailed off. She dropped her head to the floor and threw her hooves over her eyes, moaning, “Oh bucking solar flares, why am I telling you this?”

“Um,” Dinky said, “what?”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ...”

Without removing her forehooves from her face, Ditzy pushed with her rear legs and propelled herself down the hall. Dinky watched, tilting her head, while Ditzy stopped just shy of the hallway’s end, turned around, and scooted back.

“... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh Dinky!” Ditzy leaped to her hooves, startling Dinky into falling on her haunches. “I’m letting you know this because you are young, and your mind is still flexible. Ponyville ... no, Equestria is full of ponies whose minds aren’t nearly so flexible. I’ve seen things. And—”

“What kinds of things?”

“Things!” Ditzy flailed her forelegs for emphasis. “And if I started talking willy-nilly about them, ponies would either slap me in a straightjacket, or panic and run riot in the streets. Understood?”

Dinky started to nod, but stopped and shook her head instead. “Not really, no.”

“I’m just saying, it’s very, very important that both of us keep this a secret.”

“Oh! I’m good at keeping secrets!” Dinky closed one eye and planted her forehoof over it, a gesture whose meaning was understood by both: May the pink party pony’s wrath be upon me, should I fail to keep my word.

“Wonderful.”

“I won’t tell anypony, not even mom and dad!”

“What? No no no nononono …”

Dinky cocked her head. “But, you said this is—”

“Not that important!” Ditzy laid down, lowering herself to Dinky’s eye level. “The trust between a filly and her parents is sacred. Sometimes, it can feel like the entire world is out to get you. But if your parents believe in you, then it’ll give you the strength to carry on. But you need to be able to trust Mom and Dad, and they need to be able to trust you.”

Dinky’s eyes were wide. “Wow.”

“So, please, do not lie to your parents for my sake.”

“You want me to tell them?”

“Tell them …” Ditzy gritted her teeth. “... if they ask. But don’t mention it if they don’t bring it up first.”

“Like when one of the other kids in class forgets to do homework, and they hope Miss Cheerilee forgets to collect it?”

“Yeah, it’s like that. But less likely to mess up your report card.” Ditzy turned to look into the mirror. “Now, we just need to deal with this.”

“I’ll get Dad’s hammer!”

“No, breaking it won’t help.” She ran a hoof along the mirror’s edge. “If there’s any way to unmake one of these portals, I don’t know what it is. All I really can do is hide the mirror someplace where nopony can stumble into it by accident.”

“Where?”

Ditzy pulled her hoof from the mirror and ruffled Dinky’s mane with it. “Sorry, Dinky, but I can’t tell you all my secrets just yet. Suffice to say, it’s the safest, secretest, and obscurest spot in the entire continent. I could hide the Crown Jewels there, and it would take at least a million years before the royals sisters found them.

“But,” Ditzy continued as she grasped the mirror’s edges between her hooves and carefully lifted, “if I’m going to hide this mirror away, I’ll need to get a replacement, or your parents will notice it’s gone and start asking questions. Mirrors & Sledgehammers should still be open. Are you up for a quick shopping trip?”

“Sure!”

Balancing the mirror on her outstretched wings, Ditzy carefully descended the stairs. As she reached the foyer, Dinky rushed ahead to open the front door, then paused. “Before we go,” she said, “what did you see on the other side of the mirror?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” Ditzy paused to think. “But it looked like an empty apartment building—under a transparent dome.”

“How about this?” The proprietor of Mirrors & Sledgehammers indicated a mirror with his horn. The mirror had a colorful border, depicting fruit and honey bees.

“Um,” Ditzy answered, “that’s a little too gaudy. I was looking for something—”

“Perhaps this would fit your needs?” he said, indicating a mirror with a thin, matte black border. It was also three times Ditzy’s height. “A big mirror for the big wall in your big house!”

“Listen. Mr. Red Water—”

“Red Rain,” the stallion said. He then half-closed his eyes and leaned in. “But if you’d rather call me Red Water, Miss Doo …”

“Urgh. Red Rain, I’ve made up my mind.” Ditzy pointed her right wing at an oval mirror with a mahogany frame. “I want this one.”

“Are you sure about that? Why not one that better matches your lovely eyes? After all, in your eyes …”

Dinky Doo prodded Ditzy's side, and Ditzy tuned out the rest of Red Rain's spiel. “That brown stallion over there keeps looking at you funny,” the filly said.

Following Dinky’s outstretched hoof, Ditzy looked to a spot on the other side of the showroom, but she didn’t see anypony there. She looked back at Dinky, who frowned and pointed again. Ditzy looked again at the indicated place, and then she saw. Reflected in one of the mirrors, a brown face with icy blue eyes frowned back at Ditzy.

“Oh dear. Dinky, we need to leave now.” Ditzy turned to address Red Rain. “Red Stuff, listen to me.”

“... excellent birds, if I say so myself,” the stallion said. “Wait, what?”

“I’ve made up my mind, Red Matter.” She grabbed the oval mirror and placed it on her back. “I am leaving, now, with this mirror, and this mirror alone, and there is nothing you can say to change my mind. Do you want me to pay for it or not?”

Ditzy relaxed once Carrot Top’s front door was closed and locked behind her. She sighed, then opened her eyes to meet Dinky’s inquisitive stare.

“What happened?” Dinky asked. “Why did we have to leave Mirrors & Sledgehammers so fast?”

“That stallion you saw, who was looking at me funny,” Ditzy said, “that was Dr. Hooves. He’s been treating me very strangely lately. I don’t know what his deal is, but the last thing I want is for you to get mixed up in this, too.”

“So we took the long way from the store to your place to make sure he couldn’t follow us?”

“Right.” Ditzy peeked through the Venetian blinds in the foyer window. “And I didn’t see him at all on the way back here, so I think we’re good.”

“Why don’t you tell the cops?”

“What? The cops?”

“Miss Cheerilee says that if a colt or filly is bothering us, sometimes we just can’t fix the problem ourselves, and we need to get an adult to help. But since you are an adult, you go to the cops when you need help, right?”

“Yes,” Ditzy said, “Miss Cheerilee is certainly smart. But I’m sure I can deal with Dr. Hooves by myself. Without getting the police involved.”

She gestured to the new mirror—100% portal-free—resting where she left it, next to the door. “Think you can hang that up while I get some dinner?”

“Sure!” Dinky grabbed the mirror with her mouth and trotted up the stairs.

As she entered the kitchen, Ditzy considered what to make for dinner. However, upon opening the refrigerator door, she saw an all-too-familiar pink glow, and realized that dinner had been decided for her. This isn’t what I had in mind, she thought, grabbing the illuminated bowl in her teeth, but the tubes have spoken. As expected, the glow faded as soon as the bowl was removed from the fridge.

Dinky trotted into the kitchen. “So, what’s for supper?” she asked. Noticing the bowl in Ditzy’s teeth, she abruptly stopped smiling and wrinkled her nose. “Potato salad? Yuck!”

“Well, it’s not all we’re having,” Ditzy said, setting the offending dish on the counter.

“Good, cause I’m not having any!”

“You’ll need to have some, Dinky. There’s too much for me to finish this all off, and—”

“Don’t care! I won’t try it!”

“What? How do you know you don’t like it if you won’t even try it?”

“I just know and you can’t make me!”

“Dinky, can’t you at least—”

“No!”

“I’m sure if you—”

“No no no no no no!”

Ditzy stamped the floor, launched herself a foot or two into the air, and flapped her wings to hover. Focusing both her eyes on Dinky, she raised her voice to speak over the filly. “Golden Ink! Be quiet and listen to me this instant, or I will tell your parents about this when they get home!”

Ditzy wasn’t sure whether the ultimatum itself or the use of Dinky’s real name had the greater effect on the filly. Regardless, Ditzy couldn’t argue with the results. Dinky fell silent, her ears drooping and her haunches dropping to the floor.

Ditzy sighed, relaxing and allowing her eyes to drift apart before she spoke again. “It’s very important that we eat the potato salad. Just like that business with the mirror was important. And I’ll tell you why it’s important. Imagine you’re taking the train to Canterlot, and—”

“Oh, I am!”

“What?”

“Me and my mom are taking the Friendship Express to Canterlot tomorrow!” Dinky said, perking up. “She’s taking carrots to some vendors, and we’re gonna watch the rodeo while we’re there!”

“That’s great.” Ditzy gestured with her forehooves as she continued. “But, suppose that I also got on another train, bound for Appleloosa. Both our trains leave at the same time, heading opposite directions. You got that?”

Dinky nodded.

“Now...” Ditzy paused, then opened a nearby drawer. After a few seconds of rummaging, she pulled out a red rubber band, and looped it over both her forehooves. “Imagine there’s a big rubber band. One end is on your hoof, and the other end is on my hoof. And as both our trains leave,”—Ditzy moved her hooves apart—“that rubber band is going to streeeetch. Sooner or later, that band won’t be able to stretch any further.” The band on her hooves was stretched to its limit. “If the trains keep moving, what will happen to the band?”

“It’ll break?” the filly said, her wide eyes focused on the rubber band.

Ditzy twisted her hooves around and released one end of the rubber band. It ricocheted off the ground just in front of Dinky’s hooves, and she flinched.

“Right,” Ditzy said. “The band will break, and that won’t be pleasant for either of us. Fortunately, that scenario is imaginary, but it’s an analogy for something that’s very, very real. Instead of two trains, there are two planets: ours, and... I’m not sure what the other planet is called. Instead of two ponies, there are two refrigerators. And instead of a rubber band linking two hooves, there’s a Krasnicker tube linking two dishes of food. I don’t know how it keeps happening, or why it only happens in your parents’ fridge. It just ... does.”

“What’s a Krasnikov tube?”

Mentally berating herself for using theoretical physics terminology in a conversation with a filly, Ditzy answered, “Krasnicker. And they’re like... space rubber bands. Except you can also travel inside them really, really fast.”

“Oooooohhh, like wormholes?”

Ditzy stopped mentally berating herself. “Yeah, like wormholes.”

“So let me get this straight,” Dinky said. “That bowl of potato salad has a rubber band wormhole attached to it, and the other end is on an alien potato salad on another planet. And we need to eat our potato salad, or the wormhole will break and give us a nasty snap.”

“Yeah, that’s the gist of it.” The filly wasn’t quite right, but Ditzy wasn’t in the mood to correct her. Strictly speaking, simply removing the food from the fridge was enough to disconnect it from the Krasnicker tube. Eating the food was merely a matter of not letting a perfectly good meal go to waste.

“So what about that time a few weeks ago,” Dinky said, “when you were whining about how much you wanted four bean salad?”

“I didn’t think that was whining … ”

“Or that time you made Mom use all the eggs in the fridge except for two. And then you broke those two. It wasn’t an accident, it was the wormholes! Right? Or that very first time you had dinner with us—”

“Yep. Pretty smart, kid.” Ditzy smiled, and Dinky beamed right back. “This sort of thing has been happening for a while.”

“Wow,” Dinky said. Then, furrowing her brow, she said, “But what about the other planet?”

“What?”

“When you break the connection on this end, doesn’t that make the rubber band wormhole just snap that other planet extra hard?”

Ditzy opened her mouth to reply in the negative, but the words died somewhere in her throat. Her wings froze, and she landed stiffly. Oh my stars, she thought, I never even considered that. Maybe every time I’ve prevented that catastrophic energy release in Ponyville, I’ve caused it to happen on that other planet. Except...

Ditzy shut her jaw and shook her head. “Well,” she said, “I can’t rule out that possibility, Dinky, but the damage at the other end of the Krasnicker tube can’t be too bad. Otherwise, how does food keep ending up in the fridge on the other end?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dinky sighed. “Stupid wormholes. Why couldn’t they have picked mac ’n cheese for us to eat tonight?”

“Tell you what,” Ditzy said. “I’ll fry up some hay bacon to mix into the potato salad. Everything’s better with hay bacon. How does that sound?”

“Pretty good.” Dinky smiled. “While you’re doing that, I’ll go set the table!”

The filly rushed off, and Ditzy poked her head under the counter to grab a skillet. As she placed it on the stove top, three sounds caught her attention: a thump, a clatter, and a sharp “Ouch!” from Dinky.

Rushing to the dining room, she found Dinky leaning against one of the table legs, rubbing her head with a hoof.

“I’m okay!” Dinky said. “Just bumped my head on the table. That’s all.”

Ditzy glanced over the table to see if anything had broken, then froze. In the center, the salt shaker lay on its side, its contents spilled around it.

“Dinky,” she said, fixing her gaze on the filly, “you spilled the salt. Did you toss some over your shoulder afterwards?”

“No,” Dinky said, furrowing her brow. “Mom says luck is fake.”

“And she’s probably right. But tyndalocurrs are definitely real.”

“What.”

“Ravenous monstrosities inhabiting the corners between the universes! They’re attracted to lattices and right angles, so the sound of crystals on a flat surface calls to them across the ether! Their very movement within our dimension, though limited by pony perception, is liable to rend asunder all organic molecules in their wake! Only the crystals they seek can sever their connection to our plane of existence!”

Ditzy paused, her forelegs in the air. Dinky boggled at the pegasus, her mouth wide open.

“What.”

Ditzy sighed. “Nasty beasties with sharp claws and big mandibles. Spilled salt is like a dinner bell to them, but they can only enter our universe someplace where nopony is looking. So you throw some salt over your shoulder. It’ll hit them in the eye and send them back where they came from.”

“That sounds even more fake than luck.”

Ditzy rustled Dinky’s mane with her hoof. “Oh, you’re just learning all kinds of crazy new stuff tonight. Well, that hay bacon isn’t going to fry itself.”

The massive earth pony tipped his police hat as Ditzy passed. “It’s getting late, love,” he said. “I trust you’re on your way home?”

“Yes, sir, Constable Peeler, sir!”

“That’s a good pony.” Peeler continued his usual patrol.

Ditzy counted bits as she continued towards her apartment complex. Carrot Top and Written Script, upon returning from the opera, had paid Ditzy for her services. She had accepted without argument. Counting a bagful of coins while flying was difficult, but there seemed to be enough money to cover the cost of that replacement mirror, with a little left—

“Oh, hi, Ditzy!” Twilight Sparkle’s voice cut through Ditzy’s thoughts, alerting the pegasus to land and avert her eyes before another blinding.

“Hey Twilight,” she said. “What brings you here at this hour?” She looked down at her hooves as she trotted towards her door, and Twilight fell into step beside her.

“Well, I just found the answer to your research question, and I figured you’d like to hear back as soon as possible. I know how annoyed I get when there’s some sort of unanswered question hanging over my head! Anyway, I wrote up a summary of my findings and I just slipped it under your front door a minute ago. I would have put it in your mailbox but, um ... Ditzy, why is your mailbox full of muffins?”

“Well, you know the lore about the Fair Folk, right? I guess I’m just a sucker for tradition.”

“I … can’t say I’m familiar with that particular bit of lore.”

“Really? I thought you, of all ponies, would … Anyway! If you live near one of the Fair Folk’s trails, you’re supposed to leave food for them to eat when they pass by. That’s how you get on their good side. It’s like bribery, only tastier!”

They reached the door.

“That’s certainly ... interesting,” Twilight said.

Ditzy turned and smiled, exaggerating her smile-squint enough to completely shut her eyes. “That’s what ponies keep telling me!”

Opening the door, Ditzy found Twilight’s promised summary on the floor. She stepped in and picked it up. “Twilight,” she said, “this is twenty pages long!”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that,” Twilight said. Ditzy could hear Twilight scraping the floor with a hoof. “But I can have a longer, more thorough report this time tomorrow, if you can wait that long.”

“Um, thanks, but no thanks. I think twenty pages will be plenty.”

Ditzy turned away from Twilight and flipped through the report, skimming its pages by the moonlight from the kitchen window. About half of the pages bore sketches of an ancient temple and its artifacts, but none of these resembled the building Ditzy had in mind.

“Wow,” Ditzy said, turning back around and waving a relevant page towards the brightest point of the purple glow, “that sketch I sent you wasn’t anything like the Tllamapan temple, huh? I sure feel silly now.”

“It’s funny you should mention that,” Twilight said. “I thought your sketch looked familiar, so I also went and looked up religious architecture outside Neighxico. Turns out your sketch almost perfectly matched the old temple of Czernobaa in Hayberia. Strange, isn’t it?”

Ditzy dropped the report. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to swallow the bowling ball-sized lump in her throat and to respond calmly. “Yeah. That is odd. I wonder how I got those two confused. Well, thank you very much for your help, Twilight Sparkle.”

“No problem, Ditzy! And I’d love to read your story when you’re finished with it, or even help you proofread it, if you’d like.”

“I’ll ... keep that in mind.”

Ditzy reached for the doorknob, but before she could close the door, Twilight extended a hoof to hold it open. “Oh, I just remembered!” she said. “I had a question about the plot of your story.”

“Um, it’s still in the early planning stages, but—”

“You said in the letter that the villainous cultists are trying to summon Xanthorgh The Flayer. I know the Daring Do series does occasionally bend historical facts for the sake of spinning a good yarn, but Xanthorgh just doesn’t make any sense as a malevolent macguffin. All of the surviving legends portray Xanthorgh as a benign spirit. Granted, one with an evil-sounding title, but that was from flaying demons, not ponies!”

“Oh, that.” Ditzy faked a chuckle. “Yeah, ol’ Xanthorgh’s just a placeholder until I can find a legend that better fits the story. Besides, there is such a thing as too much historical accuracy. I’d initially considered using the Scarlet Ceremony and the Eyeless King in my story, but that would have just given all my readers nightmares!”

“True,” Twilight said, “that’s ... um …” Ditzy could not see her face, but from the way Twilight’s words trailed off, Ditzy was almost certain that the unicorn bore an expression of suspicion and dawning comprehension.

Ditzy had said too much.

“Whoa, look at the time!” Ditzy said, her lips stretched into the largest smile she could fake. “I really need to get some sleep now! Tomorrow’s a big day! Goodnight!” She punctuated this by slamming and locking the door.

Ditzy sighed and turned to the mirror—formerly property of Carrot Top and Written Script—resting right where she had left it earlier that evening. As she picked it up, several knocks came from the front door.

“Ditzy, wait!” Twilight called from outside.

The moonlight from the unshuttered windows was enough for Ditzy to navigate her apartment without lighting any lamps. Carrying the mirror, she entered her bedroom and opened the closet. She ignored the continued knocks from the front room and clambered over her boots and cardboard boxes, towards the closet’s back corner. She leaned the mirror against that wall, then shoved a box of Equestrian Geographic back issues in front of it.

“Ditzy!” Twilight called, louder than before. “How do you know about the … those things you just mentioned?”

There, Ditzy thought as she emerged from her closet. The perfect hiding place.

“Those are supposed to be state secrets! Ditzy!”

With a two flicks of her wing, Ditzy switched on her radio and cranked up the volume.

“It’s just an average daaaaaay
and nothing really stands out!
I’m just skating on the same route!”

Midway through depositing the bag of bits in her top bureau drawer, Ditzy paused to boggle at the radio playing the familiar song.

“I’m feeling fiiiiiiiine,
got nothing to complain ’bout!
I’m on my way,
it’s just an average day!”

This, she thought, is certainly something.

Twilight continued calling, but most of her words were drowned out by the music. “Ditz— … how … impor— … report … —lesti—”

“I turned off the radio and went to bed.
After all, tomorrow
is a big day,
and not an average day!”

“Not an average day,” Ditzy repeated. Understatement of the century, she thought. Which means I’ll just have to deal with you later, stupid alarm clock.

Ditzy threw herself onto the bed.

When Twilight finally departed, and her purple light under the front door faded, Ditzy shut off the radio. It was a full hour before sleep found her.

Author's Note

Mad props to Perpetual Lurker. He was the one who pointed out to me the canon evidence for Dinky being Carrot Top and Written Script’s kid. Without that, Dinky would not have appeared in this story at all—I just don't feel up to the challenge of writing Ditzy as a single mom.

EDIT: I heavily edited this chapter since originally publishing it. The edited version went live on 2 February 2015.

For historical purposes, I've preserved the original version on Gdocs, here.

Demolition Derpy (Morning Three)

“Bluuuh …”

“What now?” Carrot Top spoke without looking up from her copy of the book.

“Did anypony ever actually speak this way? Listen …” Ditzy slammed the hated tome onto the desktop, placing her left forehoof on the page to indicate her place as she read.

How strange that criminals seldom swoon at such a moment! No, quite the opposite: the brain is especially active, especially mobile—turning, turning, turning like chariot wheels at full speed. At that speed, our stallion notices everything, remembers everything. Yet there is one point, round which all he sees, all his thoughts, dance and turn: that moment is approaching on swift wings! That moment—once weeks, days, hours distant—is arriving in a mere hoofful of minutes! I wonder at the thoughts—the strange, half-baked, quite funny thoughts!—that must dance through his head as those minutes count down. Such as: “Oh, I still have quite some time—there are still three streets between myself and that place. Three streets! That’s almost an eternity! And that old bakery has a broken window! That officer’s hat is faded and threadbare, and far too small for his head anyway! Two streets now—oh, this is going to be ages!” And the while, he knows he cannot faint, he cannot falter ...

“... blah blah blah blah blah!” Ditzy slammed the book shut and pushed it away. “Prince Sheepkin just goes on and on for paragraphs. How are we supposed to read 800 pages of this?”

Ditzy looked up. The school room was dark and, aside from herself and Carrot Top, completely empty. Study hall fell right after lunch, and there should have been a dozen other students—but at the moment, those oddities were a far less pressing concern than this discussion of the merits of Dusty Desk Key’s prose.

Carrot Top seemed to agree, deigning to close her book and look at Ditzy as she replied. “Yeah, he writes characters as representations of philosophical ideals. So they tend to be larger than life and wear their emotions on their sleeves like that. But, uh, that bit you just cited? That was autobiographical.”

“What? The stuff about executions?”

Carrot Top nodded. “Yep. He got arrested for something or other. The judge ran him through a mock execution—and only told Dusty he’d been pardoned at the very last second. The judge apparently thought it the funniest thing ever.”

“That’s … wow. But that still doesn’t—” Movement outside the window, and a silver gleam of reflected moonlight, caught the corner of Ditzy’s eye. “What’s that?” Whatever it was, it moved as Ditzy turned to look, and was completely gone by the time she flapped over to the window. “Carrot Top, did you see that?”

“If you think that was some tedious writing,” Carrot Top said, “then get a load of this.”

Ditzy sighed and pressed her face to the glass. Outside, the Mare in the Moon looked down upon Ponyville from the sky’s zenith.

Carrot Top read aloud, “It is the second year of the second millennium of the solar sister’s reign. What in the name of fornication is happening? In a dream, I stood upon the shore of the sea. Dark and chill was the moon on the surface of the deep. A bridge of light ran across it.”

A narrow beam of light, iridescent violet in color, fired from an unseen source into the sky.

“Behold! A fearsome beast strode across the bridge. It had seven horns and three heads, and it wore a crown of stone, a crown of iron, and a crown of bones.”

The beam of light widened. At the beam’s growing edge, trees and houses flared, then crumbled to dust. Ditzy tried to flee, but found all her limbs heavy and unresponsive. She tried to call out to Carrot Top, but her voice was reduced to a hoarse whisper. Frozen in place, she could do nothing but watch as the widening circle of destruction swept over Ponyville, towards Ditzy.

Carrot Top continued reading. “With the feet of a bear, the beast shook the earth. With the wings of a raven, it blocked out the sky. With the breath of a dragon, it burned everything above the ground. With the tail of a scorpion, it poisoned the earth itself.”

The beam of light consumed the schoolhouse. Intense cold washed over Ditzy, from head to hoof. Then it passed, and the light faded.

“All ponykind looked upon the desolation and cried out in one voice: ‘Woe are we, that these days befall us!’”

The schoolhouse was gone. No trace of Ponyville remained. As wide as Ditzy could see, the earth was blackened and glassy, its surface cut by numberless ruts and crevasses. From these, a sickly green light shone. The sky above was dull yellow and marred by a jagged crack. From that crack, a massive black scorpion’s claw extended and grasped the moon.

An unearthly cacophony sounded in Ditzy’s ears, yet somehow Carrot Top’s voice carried over it: “‘Blessed instead is the foal who was never born, and never lived to see these evil times. Blessed is the stallion whose brain was dashed upon a rock, for nothing really stands out, he’s just skating on the same route. Blessed is the mare who gouged her eyes out, for she’s feeling fine, she has nothing to complain about. She’s on her way, it’s just …’”

With a thump, Carrot Top set the book down. She said, “Hey, our song is on!”

Ditzy regained control of her limbs and turned around. Carrot Top’s desk was the only piece of furniture remaining from the schoolhouse, and a radio was now resting atop it. As Carrot Top fiddled with the volume, the background sounds grew louder, and Ditzy finally realized they were music. She even recognized the words.

“—an average daaaaaay ...”

Carrot Top danced to the song. “You’re rolling your eyes, aren’t you, Ditzy?”

“No,” Ditzy said. In fact, she had scrunched her eyes shut and placed her forehooves over her ears. “But do you have to play it so loud?”

“... and nothing really stands out!”

“C’mon, lighten up a bit!” Carrot Top said, shaking her mane. “This ska fad’s probably gonna be passé this time next year, so let’s enjoy it while it lasts!”

Ditzy clamped her hooves down harder, but the music only seemed to grow louder. “Why can’t we enjoy it a little more quietly?!”

“What?”

“I’m just skating on the same route!”

“I said, why can’t—”

Ditzy woke up.

Morning Three: Demolition Derpy

“I’m feeling fiiiiiiiine,
got nothing to complain ’bout!
I’m on my way,
it’s just an average day!”

The radio was still set to the obnoxious volume that had driven Twilight Sparkle away last night. Ditzy shot her hoof towards its “off” button, but she thought better of it at the last instant. Instead, she turned the volume down to a bearable level and left it playing as she prepared for her day.

The radio played as Ditzy ate her breakfast. Her six strips of hay bacon were savory but a bit on the chewy side. The flavor of her oatmeal pancakes was completely overwhelmed by the thick, smothering layer of blackberry syrup on top. When she bit into her grapefruit, it squirted juice into her eye. Her sesame seed bagel was toasted just a little too long, but the cream cheese made up for it. She scrambled the last two eggs from the fridge, and the grease from the hay bacon gave them a bit of kick. The lemon poppyseed muffin was zesty and moist—just like Ditzy liked it. She washed the meal down with two glasses of orange juice. It was not quite a breakfast fit for a princess—but it would suffice as a last meal, if it had to.

The radio played as Ditzy reread the letter on her fridge. She could recognize most of the fia sídhe alphabet this morning—Twilight’s notes on the subject in the library had jogged her memory—and could even understand the final paragraph. It was the same blessing that Abhean, son of Bec-Felmas, had given her in person before his departure. On the other hoof, the rest of the letter hid its meaning behind words outside of Ditzy’s understanding. Still, she admired the artistic talent evident in the calligraphy. The accent marks that looked like little circles were her favorites.

The radio played as Ditzy washed herself up. She started with a long, warm shower. Then, while the fog cleared from the mirror, she brushed her teeth for twice as long as usual. She then took a hairbrush to her mane, working out all the knots and kinks that had accumulated since her last brushing. Ditzy had no makeup and no high opinion of her own appearance, but she felt that the mare staring back out of her mirror was adequately presentable this morning.

The radio played as Ditzy examined the blueprints of Ponyville Town Hall. She couldn’t make out the name of the architect. As she made her preparations, she wondered what had motivated them to use this specific, star-forsaken design. Evil? Madness? Mere ignorance? Whatever the reason, the results were the same: another mess for her to clean up.

As Ditzy prepared for her day, the radio played fifteen pop songs. She recognized three of the songs that had debuted within the last year, two of the songs that had debuted the year before that, a cover version of a song that had debuted when she was just a filly, and that song by the one-hit-wonder ska band that had debuted back when she was in high school. Fourteen of the songs had electric harps, ten of them had synthesizers, five of them had a string quartet, three of them had horns, three of them had accordions, and two of them had dirty bass wobbles. Eight of the songs had a mare singing, five had a stallion singing, one was so heavily auto-tuned that Ditzy couldn’t tell, and one song had a mare and a stallion singing.

The radio also played seven commercials and eight minutes of banter between the morning show DJs. In their time on-air, Vinyl Scratch called Two Tone a hipster, a square, Maxwell’s Demon, and a pedant, while Two Tone called Vinyl Scratch a vampire, a poptimist, “a dubstep too far”, and “the cruelest month”. Of the commercials, three were for then-upcoming radio dramas—which had actually aired the previous evening—two were for magic migraine relief medicine ...

Ditzy shook her head. Wow, she thought, I’m actually categorizing the contents of the radio broadcast. “Dusty Desk Key was right,” she said. “I need to stop stalling.”

She shut off the radio and walked to the front door. Opening it, Ditzy looked back at her apartment. The morning sun shone through the windows and reflected off the golden blossoms on the kitchen windowsill. The light transformed the space, briefly, into one that Ditzy thought she might miss.

She left.

Ditzy gazed up at Town Hall. The glow had spread further, covering nearly half of the building. With that much of the structure absorbed by the spatial anomaly, the depth-inversion was obvious, even to Ditzy’s sight.

It will happen soon, Ditzy thought. The spell components will converge, the bridge to the void will form, and the summoning will commence. Ditzy glanced around town square. But how will they converge? The great circle—that’s obvious. The cursed oak—that could be any of these beams, or all of them. The oath of consecration—that can linger for centuries, but I ought to keep an ear out for some madpony uttering the words, all the same. That just leaves the blood of a virgin. Where the hay will—

“Good morning!” Mayor Mare’s voice startled Ditzy out of her thoughts. She descended Town Hall’s front steps with uncanny earth pony balance, holding a full coffee mug in one forehoof. “Rainbow Dash told me expect you, Ditzy. Thank you so much for agreeing to help set up for the celebration.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.”

“Nonsense! Many hooves make light work, you know. Rainbow didn’t say as much—you know how she doesn’t like to admit when she needs help—but I could tell she also appreciates your assistance.”

As the Mayor took a sip of coffee, Ditzy scanned the mostly-empty town square and the sky above it.

“Speaking of Rainbow Dash,” Ditzy said, “where is she?”

“Oh, she went over to her marefriend’s house to pick up the streamers and bunting.”

Ditzy blinked. “Why would Applejack have party decorations?”

“No, I said she went to … Wait, are you implying Rainbow Dash and Applejack are an item?”

“I don’t know. That’s just what I heard.”

“Heard from whom? From Rainbow Dash herself?”

“No, from …”

“Then I very much doubt it, Ditzy.” Mayor Mare took another sip of her coffee. “Because clearly Rainbow Dash is dating Pinkie Pie.”

Ditzy sighed. “Did you hear that from Rainbow Dash?”

“Oh, pish posh! It’s so obvious, there’s no need for them to tell anypony! Why else would an earth pony like Pinkie Pie own so many flying devices?”

“Because she’s Pinkie Pie.”

“Why else would she react so strongly when Dash started hanging out with that griffin? Acting even stranger than usual …”

“It's Pinkie Pie. She's always acting stranger than usual.”

“And why else would she and Dash spend so much time alone?”

“Because they’re prank buddies?”

“Ooooooohhh,” the Mayor said, winking at Ditzy, “is that what the kids are calling it these days? Say no more, Ditzy, say no more.”

Ditzy rolled her eyes. “Gladly.”

“I’m just so excited,” the Mayor said, turning towards the empty town square. “With the whole town rallying behind Applejack, I know she’s going to beat all the competition at that rodeo. She’ll do Ponyville proud, Ditzy, and it will be the best publicity our town has had since—”

“Incoming!”

Rainbow Dash’s warning cry gave Ditzy and Mayor Mare just enough time to duck and cover their faces before Dash—and the cart she was hauling—crashed into the ground. When Ditzy uncovered her eyes, she saw a pile of wood scraps and colored fabrics, with Dash’s front half sticking out from underneath.

“I’m alright!” Dash said, wriggling herself free from the wreckage of the cart. “And I think I set a new record for getting from Sugarcube Corner to here! Booyah!”

“Yes, impressive,” the Mayor said, her tone anything but impressed. “Shame about the landing, though.”

“Ehhhhh, you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few ...” Dash shook her leg free and took a few steps away from the debris. “Uh, carts.”

“Um, Dash,” Ditzy said, “you’re bleeding.”

“Hmm.” Dash examined her legs and craned her neck to look at her haunches, confirming that she had quite a few superficial scrapes and cuts. “I’ve had worse.”

“Still,” the Mayor said, “you really ought to wash up. We don’t want you getting blood all over the decorations, do we?”

Rainbow Dash groaned, but spread her wings. “Fiiiiine,” she said, then flew up the stairs, through Town Hall’s entrance, towards its public bathroom.

“Well,” Mayor Mare said, as she retrieved the now-empty mug from where she had dropped it, “I really must get back to work. That … ugh … paperwork isn’t going to complete itself.”

The Mayor ascended the steps and entered the door before Ditzy realized that Town Hall looked different. It had ceased glowing green and was now glowing violet: the dark, iridescent violet of a plum on the verge of becoming a prune.

Meson radiation instead of tachyon, Ditzy thought. The summoning has definitely begun. But how ... Something caught her eye: a blotch of red on Town Hall’s steps. She flew over to get a closer look. It was blood.

Is this from … But that would mean Dash is ...

Ditzy’s laughter started as a chuckle and grew. As it reached the level of a guffaw, her flapping faltered, causing her to drop, tumble down the stairs, and sprawl on the ground. She continued laughing, unabated, until Rainbow Dash returned.

“What’s so funny, Derpy?”

“Sometimes … hahaha”—Ditzy paused to wipe the tears from her eyes—“sometimes I just think funny things, Dash.”

“... and these streamers go up there,” Rainbow Dash said, gesturing. “You got that?”

Ditzy saluted.

“Great,” Dash said, grabbing a bundle of bunting and taking off.

I know what must be done, Ditzy thought, staring at Town Hall. I just need to make it look like an accident.

She grabbed a pile of streamers and took off for the roof. She tied a streamer to an exposed rafter and turned around. Nopony was watching: Rainbow Dash was still on the other side of Town Hall, and the square was otherwise deserted. Smirking, Ditzy flapped backwards, slamming her rump into the exposed rafter. The wooden beam made a satisfying crack as it broke under her rock-hard haunches.

Ditzy flew to another rafter and tied another streamer to it. Then, after again confirming she was unwatched, she smashed a support beam.

She flew to a third rafter and attached another streamer to it. She reared a hoof back to strike the support beam—then noticed Dash was looking her way. “Hey, Rainbow Dash!” she said, waving her already-extended foreleg. “This is fun!”

Ditzy couldn’t be sure, but she got the distinct impression that Dash was rolling her eyes. Ditzy continued waving until Dash was again out of sight, then kicked three times, splitting the beam with her rear hooves.

Realizing she had no more streamers to hang, Ditzy swooped down to the pile of decorations and picked up some sheets of bunting. She looked up to the roof of Town Hall, then down to the fabric in her forehooves, and she smiled. She grabbed as much of the bunting as she could hold, then took to the air. Ducking beneath the eaves, she hovered close to the wall and piled all the fabric atop her head. With her impromptu helmet in place, Ditzy flew straight up.

She crashed through the eaves and into the third floor. With no loss of speed, she kept flying. Seconds later, she plowed through the roof and into the open air.

“Derpy?”

Rainbow Dash’s voice made Ditzy cringe. What the ... ? she thought. Wasn’t she just on the other side of the building?

“Are you okay?” Dash asked. “What happened?”

“I ... um … it’s ...” Ditzy said. “I think I dropped the bunting. Be right back.”

She tucked her wings and dove. I was bound to get caught sooner or later, she thought as she snatched the fluttering fabric out of the air, but I was really hoping it would be later. “No more time for subtlety!” She spread her wings and banked to her left, directly towards Town Hall’s second story.

Two seconds and two crashes later, Ditzy was on the other side, and Town Hall had gained two new windows.

“Derpy!” Rainbow Dash called over the roof. “What the hay are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, Dash! I’m a professional!”

“Professional what? Wrecking crew?”

Another roof support beam snapped under Ditzy’s flanks.

“Derpy! Seriously, cut it out!”

“It’s okay, I got it!”

The second floor gained another new window.

“Derpy!”

“Sorry, my bad!”

The roof gained yet another skylight.

“Ditzy Doo!”

Rainbow Dash grabbed Ditzy’s shoulders, but Ditzy pulled to an abrupt halt in mid-air before Dash could force her.

What? Ditzy thought. Has she ever called me by my real name before?

Rainbow Dash sighed. “Why are you here? Helping me was your idea, so why?”

Ditzy opened her mouth to answer, but Dash interrupted her. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. Der— Ditzy Doo, I appreciate that you want to help. But you know what would really help me? If you’d just let me handle the decorating. By myself.”

Ditzy peered over Dash’s shoulder, through the prismatic aura from Dash’s wings, at Town Hall. In spite of the damage to its roof and upper floors, the lower floor of the building was still structurally sound—and the entire Town Hall continued to glow dark violet.

Clearly, Ditzy thought, my cunning plan failed to account for every conting—

“Hellooooo!” Dash said. “Earth to Derpy!”

“Okay, Dash.” Ditzy extended her forehooves, offering the bunting in her possession to Rainbow Dash. “I’ll leave you be.”

“Great. Thanks.” Dash grabbed the fabric and flew away, leaving Ditzy alone with her thoughts.

Hailstones! Solar flares! Supercells! Bucking sleet! Tor—

“Well howdy, Mayor!” Ditzy’s mental stream of invectives was interrupted by a distinctly accented voice from the ground below. The mare of the hour had arrived.

“Good day to you, Applejack,” the Mayor answered. “How are you feeling? Ready to do Ponyville proud at the rodeo?”

I’m just not fast enough! Ditzy thought.

“Darn tootin’! And I sure do ’preciate you putting together this … Land sakes! What in tarnation happened to Town Hall?”

“What do you mean … Oh, dear. That’s … recent …”

If I keep trying to destroy Town Hall this way, Ditzy thought, I’m just going to get arrested—or get my flank kicked by Rainbow Dash—before I can finish the job!

“Tell you what! How ’bout when I get back from Canterlot, I’ll donate my rodeo winnings so y’all can fix up that mess?”

“Really? I don’t know what to say … I mean, yes! I’d be honored to accept such a generous gift!”

“’Tain’t nothin’. Y’all have been supportin’ my rodeo career for so long, I reckon that …”

As the voices receded, something bumped into Ditzy’s haunches. Spinning around, Ditzy found a cloud—and behind it, a brief, intense flash of pink heralding a Krasnicker tube’s harmless collapse. She examined the cloud, which further confirmed that some funny business was ahoof. This cloud simply did not belong—that much would have been apparent even if Ditzy hadn’t seen the Krasnicker tube that carried it here. This was a C-22 Rainbearing “cumulonimbus”, still heavy with water and crackling with static electricity.

A storm cloud, she thought, yet the last storm in Ponyville was …

"You!" Ditzy threw herself onto the cumulonimbus, flinging her hooves around it. Mr. Cloud, you were supposed to be my new bed! Why the hay did that Krasnicker tube drop you off here and not at my place? “As soon as I sort out this— Ow!”

A static shock to Ditzy’s left forehoof interrupted her train of thought. With one eye, Ditzy looked at her hoof, and with the other she looked at the cloud.

Mr. Cloud, I no longer require your services as my bed. You’ve just been promoted to savior of Ponyville.

She pushed the cloud towards Town Hall. As she moved it into position and took her place on top, Ditzy noticed that the decorations on Town Hall were nearly complete. Rainbow Dash was hanging the final piece: a banner bearing a stylized portrait of Applejack.

Why did the Krasnicker tube deliver the cloud right here and now? Divine providence, that’s why.

Ditzy commenced bouncing. Bounce. Bounce. She could feel the static building beneath her hooves. Bounce. The first lightning bolt struck a flagpole, so Ditzy reoriented herself in midair to better aim.

Bounce. Bounce. Ditzy cringed as the second bolt streaked straight at Rainbow Dash.

“Huh?” Dash said. At the last instant, she dodged. The lightning singed the tip of her tail, before striking the ground harmlessly. “Now, careful, Derpy!”

Bounce. Bounce. The third bolt struck Town Hall’s roof. The air around Ditzy was thick with ozone.

Yes! she thought. I just need a few good hits. This is going to work!

Dash flew close enough to speak to Ditzy without raising her voice. “Don't want to do any more damage than you've already done,” she said, waving a foreleg towards the ruined roof.

Affecting her most gormless smile, Ditzy answered without slowing her bounces. “I just don’t know what went wrong.” As she spoke, every hair on her body stood on end. Too late, she remembered what that signaled.

For an instant, there was searing pain from her ears to her hooves to her tail. Then, before she could cry out, everything went white.

“—ay, Rainbow Dash?” somepony said. Ditzy recognized the voice but couldn’t name its owner. “Anything I can do to help?”

Oh, she thought, I’m the one speaking. It’s me. So why am I saying that? And why am I looking into a hole in the floor?

Rainbow Dash darted out of the hole. “No! Nothing!” she said. Her widened eyes, her wild gesticulations, and the tone of her voice all spoke to Ditzy of fear—bordering on complete panic. “In the name of Celestia, just sit there and do nothing!”

What happened? Why is Dash so upset? I guess I should … do what she says.

She gracelessly dropped her rump to the floor.

Hardly anything scares Dash, so whatever has her this worked up must be— Oh yeah! I’m trying to stop the summoning. Is that rela—

The floor cracked beneath Ditzy. Suddenly finding her haunches resting on empty air, Ditzy grasped with her forehooves for something, anything, to stop her fall. She grabbed Rainbow Dash, and only succeeded in pulling Dash with her into the newly created hole. Ditzy winced as she landed on her back, then winced again as Dash sprawled on top of her.

“Oops. My bad,” Ditzy said.

“Um, Derpy,” Dash said, “are you trying to seduce me?”

Ditzy opened her eyes. Dash’s snout was mere inches away from her own, and the two of them had somehow become tangled in each other’s legs. Ditzy gave the most intelligent answer she could think of.

“Uuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmm …”

Am I seducing her? I don’t think so... Ditzy thought, as Dash disentangled herself. I know I was trying to prevent the summoning … Why can’t I remember what happened next? And why do I smell something burning?

“Yeah,” Dash said, striking a pose and sweeping her mane back with one hoof, “I can’t blame you for liking what you see. But, you and me? I don’t think it would work out. Sorry. We cool?”

Ditzy nodded, and Dash flew out of the hole.

Ditzy sniffed the air. Something definitely smells burnt, she thought. She sniffed her foreleg. Oh, it’s me. So how did I get … “Wait,” she said. “Unexplained, superficial burns and short-term memory loss. I must have been hit by lightning. Great.”

Ponyville’s Town Hall was battered but still standing, and the cumulonimbus was gone. Obviously, Ditzy thought, Town Hall is supposed to be destroyed, so why is it still standing? And why do I feel like that missing cloud was important?

Sighing, Ditzy turned her attention to the crowd in the town square. Mayor Mare had the podium and was saying something about Applejack. Suddenly, she waved a hoof in the direction of Town Hall, and at least half of the crowd turned to look towards Ditzy.

“Yeah, Applejack! Whoohoo!” Ditzy shouted, shoving herself away from the ground, into the hole. As she glided down, away from the eyes of the crowd, she hoped her cheer hadn’t been too much of a non sequitur.

What I need to do, Ditzy thought, lying on the basement floor below the hole, is go back to my apartment. Review my information and come up with a new strategy.

When the clop-clop of dozens of hooves signaled the crowd’s dispersal, Ditzy emerged from the hole and trotted away, her head held low. Her gaze was downcast, so she didn’t notice the stallion blocking her path until she collided with him.

“Oh, sorry, mister …” The words died on Ditzy’s lips as she recognized the icy, blue eyes of the pony before her.

“Derpy.” Doctor Hooves’ eyes narrowed, and his voice could have frozen a timberwolf in its tracks.

“Um ... Hi?”

“You may have the rest of Ponyville fooled with your ‘well-meaning airhead’ act,” he said, prodding Ditzy’s chest with a forehoof, “but I’m onto you.”

“What?”

“Don’t play ignorant, Derpy. It’s insulting to both of us.” He walked, tracing a clockwise circle around Ditzy. “You may as well cooperate with me; it’s in both our best interests, really. You don’t want to make a public spectacle of this any more than I do, so why don’t we meet in the field just east of Ponyville, five minutes ago, and talk things out there, hm? A nice, relaxing conversation between two civilized ponies?”

“What?”

“And don’t even think about running. I don’t care what powers you think you have, but the R.S.S. always get their pony.” Dr. Hooves retrieved an item from his mane, and brandished it at Ditzy. It was a gold pocket watch on a chain. Something was engraved on its cover, but Dr. Hooves didn’t brandish the watch quite long enough for Ditzy to make out the design. “And you will be no exception, I can assure you.”

“What?”

“Clock is ticking, Derpy. Clock. Is. Ticking.”

“Alright, alright. So, east field, five minutes from now, then?”

“No.” Dr. Hooves flipped the watch’s cover open and examined its face. “I mean what I said, and I said what I … Hm. Interesting.”

Ditzy bolted away. She flew out of town square and turned down Stirrup Street, looking for a suitably out-of-the-way alley. Just as she found one, something grabbed her tail. From the corner of her eye, Ditzy saw a light. Its color and brightness signaled the telekinetic grip of one particular unicorn.

“Hey, Twilight. Why are you grabbing my tail?”

“Ditzy Doo,” Twilight Sparkle said. “We really need to talk.”

“It’s funny you should mention that! Somepony else wants to talk to me. Like, right now. Or five minutes ago.”

“We need to talk about … what you mentioned last night. It’s very important, Ditzy.”

“Wow, so is my meeting with this other pony! I’m a very important pony all of a sudden.”

“Ditzy, are you seriously implying that your other meeting is more important than your inexplicable knowledge of Equestrian state secrets?”

“Maaaaaybe. The other stallion was using a lot of big words and flashing a badge at me.”

“Uuuuuurgh.” Ditzy could hear Twilight stamping the ground. “Listen—”

“Hey, Twilight!” Rainbow Dash called from somewhere behind Ditzy. “The rest of us are going to the train station to wish AJ good luck! Are you coming, or what?”

Twilight sighed, then shouted back, “I’m coming!” In a lower voice, she said to Ditzy, “Well, it looks like you’ll make your other meeting after all. This isn’t over, Ditzy. We will discuss this later.”

The grip on Ditzy’s tail disappeared, and she heard Twilight galloping for the train station.

Ditzy swooped into the alley and ducked behind some stacked crates. As soon as she was out of sight, she took one step to the east and three to the zwost.

Thus, she slipped through space, into the manifold of the eighth, ninth, and tenth dimensions. It was dimly lit, as only the maxin-light from the sun’s shadow reached here. It was infested with insects—smelly, irritating, but ultimately harmless insects—whose names escaped Ditzy. However it was very useful, as it was the manifold in which Ponyville’s east-west axis was shortest. From there, the flight to the east field was a dark, foul-smelling, and mercifully short blur.

Ditzy took three steps to the west and one to the fjoth, to re-enter the three-dimensional manifold that every other pony called home. She found herself in a rather lovely field. The sky was clear—save for a few clouds dotting the horizon—allowing the noon sun to shine unimpeded on the shoulder-high grass, which swayed gently in the breeze.

The only sight marring this bucolic scene was the scowling visage of Dr. Hooves. “You’re six minutes and twenty-five seconds late,” he said, glaring over the cover of his watch.

“Hey!” Ditzy answered. “You’re the one who insisted we meet here at an impossible time!”

“Your feigned ignorance is growing tiresome, Derpy.” He snapped his watch cover shut. “At your fastest speed, it should have taken you three minutes and twelve seconds to get here from town square. Nevertheless, you managed to arrive in a mere one minute and twenty-five seconds. Besides, I saw you step out of thin air. Therefore, you clearly are the temporal anomaly I’ve detected for the last two days, and, although perfectly capable of making this scheduled appointment, you’ve chosen to come now just to spite me!”

Dr. Hooves snorted, then, closing his eyes, forced himself to breathe more slowly. He returned his pocket watch to his mane.

Ditzy, meanwhile, regained control of her hanging jaw, then shook her head. “You timed my top speed?”

“Please. I time everything, Derpy. Or should I call you ...” he said, pushing his face uncomfortably close to hers, “... Ditzy Doo?”

Ditzy blinked. “Either’s fine with me, I guess.”

“You’re calm under pressure. Admirable.”

“What, did you not know that Derpy Hooves is just my nickname?”

“Excuse me,” Dr. Hooves said, pushing a forehoof into Ditzy’s chest. “I’m the one asking the questions, here!”

Shoving the doctor’s hoof away, Ditzy continued, “How about Carrot Top? Did you know her real name’s Golden Harvest? And, you didn’t hear this from me, but Bon Bon’s real name is Sweetie Drops! She hates it when ponies call her that.”

Dr. Hooves stepped back, his eyes widening. “Well. I see there’s no honor among spies.”

Carrot Top, Carrot Top, Carrot Top. The name began bouncing through Ditzy’s mind, and she didn’t know why.

“And Dinky Doo’s real name is Golden Ink!” she said. “How’s that for a shocking rev— Did you say, spies?”

“You sicken me.” The glare from before returned to Dr. Hooves’ face. This time, his voice was cold enough to freeze a windigo. “Selling out your own daughter?”

“We’re not spies, you thunder-headed … My daughter? What made you think Dinky Doo is my daughter?”

“What would your girlfriend say if she could see you like this, hm?”

Carrot Top, Carrot Top, Carrot Top, Carrot Top ...

“Sure, we’re close,” Ditzy said, “but I’m like an honorary aunt at bes ... did you say girlfriend?!”

“Selling out everyone you know to save your own skin—I’m sure she’d be quite impressed.”

“When did I get a ... Wait, wait, I think I’ve heard this one. Let me guess ...” Ditzy reared back and placed her forehooves the sides of her head. “Yooooooou think ... Rainbow Dash is my girlfriend, eh?”

Dr. Hooves did not appear particularly amused at her guess. “Are you trying to tell me that you aren’t in a relationship with the Bearer of the Element of Loyalty?”

“What the hay even made you think that Dash and I are—” Ditzy closed her eyes and shrugged with her wings. “You know what, forget it. I don’t want to know.”

Carrot Top, Carrot Top, she thought. There’s something important about her I’m forgetting!

Dr. Hooves walked to his left, circling Ditzy clockwise. “Who are you working for, Ditzy Doo?”

“Ponyville Weather Patrol.”

“Oh, that’s rich.”

Ditzy groaned. “It may not look like it, but I swear I’m rolling my eyes at you right now.”

“And which of your superiors at Ponyville Weather Patrol wants you to scatter the Elements of Harmony?”

Ditzy glared at the doctor. “Cloudchaser.”

“What?”

“She’s been unhappy with her job for the past few weeks or so. And, since today is apparently National Jump To Conclusions Day, that must mean she’s angry enough to try to conquer Equestria! Q.E.D.”

Suddenly, Dr. Hooves was at Ditzy’s side, draping a foreleg over her shoulder. “I’ve changed my mind, Ditzy Doo,” he said. “I hope you do try to run. Maybe that way you’ll get hurt when we apprehend you.”

Ditzy shoved him away. “Peace and harmony to you too, Dr. Hooves.”

Carrot Top, Carrot Top, she thought, Carrot Top, what am I forgetting?

Dr. Hooves adjusted his tie. “This has grown very tiresome, so this will be the last time I ask you: On whose orders were you acting when you scattered the Elements of Harmony?”

“Scattered?”

“Oh, you were very clever about it, working so indirectly.” He pulled his pocket watch out and began twirling its chain about his hoof. “I don’t think anyone else in Ponyville even realized that you wrecked Town Hall intentionally.”

“Town Hall? That’s what this is all about?”

“No, this is much bigger than Town Hall.”

At that, Ditzy froze.

Dr. Hooves opened his watch and glanced at it, then continued, “In a few minutes, Applejack will depart on the train for Canterlot to participate in the Equestria Rodeo.” He returned the watch to his mane and advanced towards Ditzy. “I’ve seen how this rodeo ends, Ditzy Doo. Some addle-pated official discontinued the Best In Show prize and, consequently, Applejack isn’t going to win any money—money that she promised to donate to the city of Ponyville. Wracked with guilt, Applejack won’t return to Ponyville, instead seeking employment in some frontier town so she can earn the bits she needs to fulfill her promise.” The doctor’s face was inches away from Ditzy’s. He jabbed a hoof at her chest, and this time she didn’t push it away. “A promise she only made because you wrecked Town Hall.”

Carrot Top, Ditzy thought. Need to remember. Carrot Top. Wait, rodeo?

Dr. Hooves stood back and smirked. “I must admit, it’s fiendishly clever. With naught but some gratuitous public property damage, you’ve driven the Bearer of the Element of Honesty away from the other five Elements, with nopony but me the wiser. If I had a bit for every time I’ve wished my fellow agents could be so subtle ...”

Rodeo, rodeo, Carrot Top, rodeo?

“And you would have gotten away with it, too,” the doctor continued, “if it weren’t for—”

“Aha!” Ditzy shouted. “I can still do it! There’s another way!”

“What are you—”

Ditzy cut Doctor Hooves’ words short by grabbing his cheeks. Leaning towards him with a huge grin, she said, “Carrot Top and Dinky Doo left to see the Equestria Rodeo! You know what that means?!”

The doctor’s words were surprisingly clear, considering his face was smooshed between Ditzy’s hooves. “Your fellow agents are foals if they think they can escape the R.S.S. by fleeing to Canterlot.”

Ditzy sighed and let go of his face. “You’re hopeless.” She trotted away.

“And where do you think you’re going?” the doctor called after her.

She turned her head to call back to him, “To save Ponyv—” She tripped and fell on her face. “Mmmph!” Ditzy stood up and shook her head. “You know what, forget it!”

With one step to the east and three to the zwost, she slipped away.

Author's Note

My astute pre-reader J-Dogg pointed out to me a plot point in this chapter that may look like a plot hole. Namely: if Dr. Hooves can see that Applejack is going to head to Dodge Junction rather than returning to Ponyville, why doesn't he also see that the rest of the mane cast are going to follow AJ there and convince her to return? I actually do have an answer for that, but for in-story reasons it would be incongruous to reveal that information now. It will come up in a later chapter, I assure you.

EDIT: I heavily edited this chapter since originally publishing it. The edited version went live on 2 February 2015.

For historical purposes, I've preserved the original version on Gdocs, here.

I Am the Eggmare (Afternoon Three)

Ponyville’s tourism board was not above using the truth creatively to promote their town. They could not, in good conscience, say that Ponyville was safer than the average Equestrian city. They could, however, point to the large percentage of Ponyville’s citizens who never bothered to lock their doors—and simply neglect to clarify that the dangers which did befall Ponyville were rarely the sort that a locked door could deter.

Carrot Top was apparently one of the few Ponyville residents who did lock their front door, but Ditzy Doo wasn’t about to let it deter her, either.

Ditzy reached into her saddlebag, past a folded parchment, and grabbed the canvas pouch containing her lockpicking tools. She slipped the tension wrench’s hoofhold over her left hoof, and the rake pick’s hoofhold over her right hoof. Finally, she picked up the diamond pick in her mouth. She looked up, and the door was already open.

Written Script was standing in the doorway. “Ummm ...” he said.

“Hi?” Ditzy answered. The diamond pick fell out of her mouth and clattered on the stone patio until Ditzy brought her hoof down on it.

“You know that Carrot and Dinky left for Canterlot earlier today, right?”

“Yes! I mean, no. I mean …” Ditzy closed her eyes and sighed before continuing, “I can’t think of any way to say this without sounding weird, so I’m just gonna say it. I need to borrow your fridge.”

“Yeah,” Written Script answered, “that is kinda weird. Well, I was just about to grill some carrots, and you’re welcome to join—”

“No, not the food,” Ditzy interrupted. She jerked her head back, indicating the contents of the cart behind her. “I brought this red cooler so you can keep your food. I just need the refrigerator itself.”

Written Script sighed. “I’m probably going to regret asking, but why do you need our fridge?”

“Ummm … That would be telling.”

“Uuuurgh.” The stallion closed his eyes and rubbed his temple with a hoof, muttering to himself, “Way to go, Carrot. Figures I’d have to deal with the fallout from one of your weird pranks while you’re out of town.” He lowered his hoof and opened his eyes. “Alright, Ditzy, you said ‘borrow,’ so I’m holding you to it. Carrot gets back in three days, and the fridge needs to be here when she returns. Understood?”

“Righto!” Ditzy figured that this was a creative truth rather than a lie. Though she had every intention of returning the refrigerator, there was an alarmingly real possibility that this might prove impossible. But, if that came to pass, a missing fridge simply would not matter.

Afternoon Three: I Am the Eggmare

“What’s that sigh for?” Written Script asked. He telekinetically moved a bowl of pasta salad, a bottle of milk, and a bundle of carrots from the open fridge to the cooler.

“It’s …” Ditzy scanned the fridge’s interior once more, confirming that none of its contents were lit by pink light. “... complicated.” She grabbed a bag of apples and transferred it to the cooler.

Figures, she thought, the one time I want a Krasnicker tube, it’s not here. Wouldn’t want to make this easy for me, huh, universe?

She transferred a package of hay bacon into the cooler. Well, on the bright side, now I know these foods won’t work, at least.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every—”

“Rarity, I need to borrow your mirror cutter!”

One of Rarity's forelegs was raised, her head was held high, her eyebrows were skewed, and her mouth was hanging open. Every strand of her mane was perfectly in place, and her alabaster coat glowed in the late-afternoon light. Rarity boggled at Ditzy’s interruption, but she did it elegantly.

She quickly regained her voice. “Well, I would gladly loan you my glass cutting supplies if I had any in my possession. I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place, Derpy.”

“You don’t have a mirror cutter? Why not?”

“‘Why not?’ Why would I have one in the first place? Really ...”

“Isn’t mirror cutting only, like, a hop and a skip removed from jewel cutting?”

“A hop and a skip over the Ghastly Gorge, perhaps.”

“Oh.”

Rarity placed a hoof on the pegasus’s shoulder. “I wish I could do more to help you, Derpy, but if the proprietor of Mirrors & Sledgehammers wasn’t able to provide you with glass cutters, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Mirrors & Sledgehammers … ?”

“Well, I assumed you inquired there before you came to me. Didn’t you?”

Ditzy dropped her face into her waiting hoof.

“Are you alright, Derpy?”

“I’m not as smart as I thought I was,” Ditzy said into her hoof, “but otherwise I’m fine.”

Mirrors & Sledgehammers was deserted, aside from Ditzy and the owner.

“You want me to cut this mirror in half?” Red Rain scratched his head. “Isn’t it the same one you bought yesterday?”

“It sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“Why do you want two halves of a mirror?”

Ditzy raised a hoof to point at her face. “If your eyes looked like this, would you want to see your whole face looking back at you?”

“Uuuuummmm …” Red Rain’s eyes darted to every side before settling on the mirror. He grabbed it with his mouth, set it on his back, and turned to the shop’s backroom. “I’ll have this ready for you in ten minutes!”

Ditzy glided over the rooftops as quickly as she dared. She didn’t have much time, but she did have an unrestrained refrigerator in the cart she was hauling—the faster she flew, the more she risked dropping it and ruining her entire plan. Just as she drew close enough to town square to make out the holes in Town Hall’s porch, a voice called out from far below.

“Ditzy Doo! We need to talk!” It was Twilight Sparkle.

Uh-oh, Ditzy thought. Maybe I can just keep going and pretend I didn’t hear her.

“I know you can hear me, Ditzy!” Twilight shouted.

Ditzy glanced down. From this distance, she could look directly at the unicorn’s purple glow for a few seconds without hurting her eyes.

“What?” Ditzy shouted. “No I’m not dizzy, but thanks for asking!”

The light below grew slightly brighter. From the center, Twilight’s voice boomed loud enough to rattle Ditzy’s chest: “Alright! Can you hear me now?!”

“Ow.”

“Okay.” Twilight’s voice had lowered to a slightly less deafening level. “Ditzy, you agreed we’d talk later. And it’s later!”

“I’m a little busy!” Ditzy waved a hoof at the cart behind her. “And I can’t afford any distractions! I really don’t want to drop this fridge!”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Huh? What are you—” Ditzy paused as realization struck her, followed quickly by her forehoof. “No! No, that’s not what I meant at all! I just mean I can’t replace this fridge if anything … happens …”

As Ditzy trailed off, the purple light flared, then disappeared entirely. Twilight had teleported away.

That could have gone better, Ditzy thought. But it also could have gone a lot worse. Thank Celestia for small favors.

Ditzy flew through the hole in the ground from that morning, and she settled on Town Hall’s basement floor. The angling rays of the sun did not reach this far down. Ditzy was glad she had attached a firefly lamp to her cart.

She unhitched herself, lifted up, and alighted in the cart. She opened the fridge door, then withdrew half of the mirror from her saddlebag and deposited it on the fridge’s bottom shelf. She then picked up the saddlebag and slipped it onto her back, tightening its strap around her barrel.

Ditzy opened the blue cooler and surveyed the bounty within—the entire contents of her own fridge, and numerous food items she had bought at the market just to cover all her bases. She compared it with her mental list of the contents of Carrot Top’s fridge. She grabbed a slice of apple pie and placed it on the fridge’s top shelf. A minute passed, and nothing happened. Back into the cooler the apple pie went.

One at a time is inefficient, Ditzy thought. She transferred a bag of caesar salad, an onion, a quart of ice cream, and a pitcher of orange juice into the fridge. A minute later, she transferred them back to the cooler. She sighed, and grabbed a block of cheese, half a grapefruit, and a green bean casserole.

No, Ditzy thought, why isn’t it working? I tried every food that wasn't in Carrot Top’s fridge! Twice! At least one of them should have worked ...

Ditzy’s gaze darted back and forth, between the open fridge and the open cooler. Maybe I just remembered wrong! Yeah, I’ll try the foods that were in Carrot Top’s fridge. Surely one of them will work! One of them has to!

“No no no no no!” Ditzy flared her wings and bucked the air behind her.

One of these should have worked! Ditzy thought. I’ve got every food I can possibly think of. What went wrong?

She slumped to the ground and sighed. Well, I tried. Sometimes you do your best, and that’s just not good enough.

Maybe … One of Ditzy’s eyes turned up to look at the rays of light angling through the hole in the porch. Maybe we can evacuate Ponyville. If everypony leaves now, we’ll probably be clear of the blight radius by the time the Eyeless King breaches our plane. And then the Princess or the Elements of Harmony can deal with—

She snorted. “Oh yeah, that’ll definitely work. Because clearly Ponyville will evacuate on my say-so. Everypony listens to space cadet Derpy Hooves.”

She rose and took to the air, flying through the hole, into the open air. Well, at the very least I can try to convince Written Script to leave. I can never face Carrot Top or Dinky again if he doesn’t get out of this okay. Haha, I wonder which of his needlepoints he’ll insist on taking with him. The space whale? The shark with sunglasses? That koan about the chicken and the …

… the egg. Ditzy froze in midair. Eggs!

She darted back into the basement and hovered above the open cooler, examining its contents one last time. No eggs in here! I finished off my eggs for breakfast, and the egg seller wasn’t at the market today! No eggs in Carrot Top’s fridge either! Eggs must be the answer!

Why, oh why did I eat my last two eggs this morning? Curse my extravagant breakfast! Where am I going to get any more eggs at this hour?

Then, she remembered.

Ditzy fidgeted her hooves. She tightened the saddlebag straps about her barrel. She glanced to one side, at the front door of her apartment complex. She glanced to the other, and saw the street was mostly deserted. She loosened her saddlebag straps. She confirmed that her lantern was lit and securely fastened to her saddlebags. She glanced up, and found the skies clear of ponies, and darker than it was two minutes ago.

The path before Ditzy, shrouded by shadow even in midday, would only grow darker as twilight gave way to night.

“Derpy?” Bon Bon’s voice cut through Ditzy’s thoughts of shadowy, forested paths. “You look terrible. Are you feeling alright?”

“Hehe, yeah, I’ve seen better days,” Ditzy answered. She tightened the straps on her saddlebag as she turned to the candy pony. “Bon Bon, do you ever find yourself with … something you really gotta do, but you’re really nervous about actually doing it?”

Bon Bon raised a hoof to her chin. “Hmmm. Nope. When I find some kinda unpleasant job on my plate, I just do it and get it over with. It’s not like putting it off will make it easier, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Ditzy loosened her saddlebag straps.

Bon Bon began trotting away, but stopped when Ditzy called after her.

“Hey, Bon Bon! Before you go, I need to, um, apologize.” Bon Bon raised an eyebrow, and Ditzy continued, “I … kinda … mentioned your real name to Dr. Hooves. And I accidentally told him you’re a spy. So if he starts getting in your mane about that, I’m sorry.”

Bon Bon was scowling. “Told him I’m a spy? Accidentally? How did you …” She lifted a hoof to her face. “Wow. Derpy, you are so weird.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Ditzy smiled and threw her forehooves in the air. “Bon Bon, you’re a genius! I am weird! That explains everything! Why didn’t I notice sooner? You’re the best casual acquaintance a pony could ask for!”

Bon Bon shook her head. “You know what, Derpy? One of these days, you’re gonna step in something really deep. And no amount of … whatever it is you do … will get you out of it.” She trotted away, calling over her shoulder as she went, “Mark my words!”

“Duly noted!” Ditzy smiled as she tightened her saddlebag straps. With one last glance to confirm nopony was watching, she trotted forward on the fia-trail, into the sídhe.

A hundred feet in, Ditzy wondered if the plant life had become thicker since her last visit, or if it was just her imagination.

Something brushed her flank. “Yaaaaaaaugh!” she screamed, and bucked in the offender’s general direction. Her hooves struck the leaves of a low-hanging branch. With a quiet laugh, she continued forward.

Five hundred feet in, Ditzy glanced up and could not see the sky. She froze. Above, the branches and leaves were a barrier as solid as any ceiling. On every side, the darkness was broken only by the browns and grays of tree trunks, by the silver-green of the underbrush, or by the pale blue of a moss that glowed without illuminating. Below, the packed dirt of the trail was lit by her lamp for about fifteen feet in every direction around her—beyond that lay inky blackness. With her head low and her ears folded back, Ditzy resumed trotting. On all sides, the shadows cast by her lantern shifted as she moved. Her gaze darted to and fro; she scanned for movement and hoped to find none.

One thousand feet in, a shrill melody sounded from the canopy. Ditzy froze, her heart pounding almost as loud as the strings and woodwinds above. She lifted her head and sang, her words barely in tune as she belted at the top of her lungs:

“Theeeeeeeere
will be no hunting season
this yeeeeeeaaaar!
All the hunters—”

A lilting voice interrupted, and Ditzy bolted. Over the pounding of her hooves against the soil, she could still make out the words from above:

“An capaillín,
an capaillín,
go you now and lost your way?
An capaillín,
an capaillín,
with me come and we can play!”

The music and the rustling of branches followed Ditzy as she fled. The path narrowed, and low branches scratched her sides as she galloped. She wanted to fly but there was no space, no visibility. She wanted to slip into another dimension, but the sídhe would not permit it. She pumped her wings for extra speed, but it made no difference. This was the fastest Ditzy had ever galloped in her life, but her musical pursuers kept pace all the same.

“You serve me tea,
you serve me tea,
make we both a tasty stew.
Stobach faelach,
stobach faelach,
best to eat of all is you!”

Ditzy rounded a curve in the path, and saw a moonlit clearing ahead. In that clearing was a chicken coop. Yes! she thought. If I can just reach—

Too late, she noticed the root jutting out of the ground. Her forehoof caught, the world spun about her, and she found herself sprawled in the dirt. She looked up and found the path to the clearing blocked by a silhouette, the height of an average pony but thinner in body and limb. Two more fia sídhe blocked the path behind her. Three sets of antlers glowed—the two behind lifted a bouzouki and a flute, and the one in front raised a horsehead fiddle. They played, and the fiddler sang:

“I eat your eyes,
I eat your eyes,
upon a pike I put your head!
I eat your heart,
I eat your heart,
make cloak of skin when you are dead!”

The three fia laughed as they slung the instruments across their withers and stepped towards the pegasus. Ditzy laid in the dirt, trembling, as they approached. No, not like this! she thought. Ponyville needs me! Carrot Top and Dinky Doo and Written Script need me! It can’t end like this!

The fia circled Ditzy as they drew closer, until she could notice details by lantern light. Featureless white masks hid their faces. Drab green cloaks were wrapped about their shoulders and barrels. Black brands forming knot patterns interrupted the fur of their exposed limbs and haunches. The one with the horsehead fiddle bore four-point antlers, marking him as the oldest of the trio.

“Say-you,” he asked his companions, “pony-serves how, cook-wise? A stew?”

“Nay, a roast!” the bouzouki player answered. “Fire below, bay and rosemary above!”

“Or bake-wise! A quiche!” said the flautist.

“Fie!” the fiddler said. “Foul, thy quiche-serves.”

“Verily!” Bouzouki said, laughing.

Fiddle paused in front of Ditzy, tilting his head as he looked into her eye. “Cad é this?” He pointed a hoof at her face. “Look-you! It-be wonked, eye-wise! Haha!”

Bouzouki and Flute laughed along with him.

Sure, make fun of my eyes, Ditzy thought. Real classy, bucks. You’re acting like a bunch of … Of course! That’s exactly what you are!

Scrunching her eyes shut, she forced her limbs to stop shaking. The bucks’ laughter died as Ditzy rose to her hooves. Facing the fiddle player, she said, “We weep for your kind.”

“We-treats not, speak-wise, with food!” he answered. He leaned towards Ditzy in a manner that was probably supposed to be menacing. “Quiet-thee!”

“Thy face is like unto thy rump, and thou wilt shut both if thou possesseth a mite of sense.”

Fiddle looked to his companions and opened his mouth, but Ditzy interrupted him. “We weep for your kind, and for the former might of the sídhe.” She turned towards Flute. “Where is the pride of the Court of Dannan, who won this land from the Fur Bolg?” She turned to Bouzouki, who retreated a step. “Where is the blood of Cú Chulainn, who bested the three-headed hound and set it to guard the gates of Tech Duinn?” She turned back to Fiddle. “Where are the fia sídhe?”

Fiddle tilted his head again before answering. “Thou-be wonked, brain-wise and eye-wise! Fia sídhe we-be!”

“Nay! The fia sídhe were warriors, stout of limb and strong of heart! But here, we see naught but a trio of brats, threatening an unarmed pony. Where is the honor in that?”

Fiddle’s antlers glowed, and from a fold of his cloak he pulled a bladed staff. Bouzouki and Flute brandished similar weapons. “Honor enough, it-be, to shut thy mouth,” Fiddle said.

“Oh dear,” Ditzy said, raising an eyebrow. “We had best be cautious. It would appear we are treating with some veritable badflanks.”

Fiddle tilted his head again, and Ditzy charged. It’s sky-clearing time, she thought, and here’s a storm cloud just asking for a good bucking. About a ponylength away from Fiddle, she leaped over his swinging blade. She pulled her hind legs, she flapped to spin mid-air, and she bucked. Her right hoof struck his chin with a meaty smack.

Ditzy spun the rest of the way to face Fiddle again and remained hovering. His face, now unmasked, was already beginning to swell. His eyes were wide and his jaw hung limply. His legs buckled, first in the rear, then in the front, and he collapsed to the ground.

Ditzy snatched his white, wooden mask off the ground and turned to face Bouzouki and Flute. The two bucks raised their weapons, but stepped back as Ditzy continued speaking. “’Tis shameful enough to make sport of waylaying travelers, but we see you are furthermore too craven to show your faces! We would spit upon you, but ’twould be a waste of good phlegm!” She threw Fiddle’s mask to the ground, then dropped herself atop it. The wood splintered under her forehooves.

“Now …” Ditzy reached into her saddlebag and withdrew the folded parchment. “Perhaps you nubby-antlered sons-of-wolves can finally accomplish something with your misbegotten lives by answering one question for us.” She unfolded the parchment and brandished Abhean’s letter, making certain that the family crest in the upper corner was visible to the two bucks. “We have business with the Lord and Lady Bec-Felmas. Are they still among the living, or must we pay our respects to the ruins of that once-proud house?”

Flute cringed and bolted into the darkness. Bouzouki glanced from Ditzy to the spot his companion had been standing, and back again. He followed Flute.

Ditzy returned the letter to her saddlebag as she approached Fiddle. He had risen to his hooves, and he moaned slightly as he massaged his jaw with a forehoof.

“Fiddle player, thou wert the leader of this merry band, correct?” Ditzy asked. He nodded. “Thy companions could benefit from a lesson or two in loyalty.”

The fia chuckled before answering. “Of loyalty, know-you much? If very, wherefore you-be lacking, friend-wise?”

Ditzy furrowed her eyebrows, then smirked. “Verily, that is the wisest word thou hast spoken yet, fiddle player.”

“A name, I-have! Éthuran, son of Mac Cuill!”

“Well met, Éthuran. We are Ditzy, daughter of Loopy. And now we are curious: does Mac Cuill approve of his son’s hunting trips?”

“Bah. The old stag, unconcerned with mine activities he-be. Gathering his army, occupy him it-does.”

“Army? So there is to be war between thy kind and the Fur Bolg after all?”

“Ha! Conquest, not defense, it-be our armies’ purpose. The Fur Bolg’s gripes, soon-they-be nowt. Coming swiftly, change-is, and big-wise like nowt since the reign of Discord. Hear-you the rustling leaves, feel-you the quaking æther: they-speaks concerning the upheaval.” He smirked at Ditzy. “Oh, pity, hear and feel you-cannot! Dulled you, sense-wise, the sun, it-has-done. Ha ha—”

“Ha ha ha!” As soon as Ditzy joined in, Étheran stopped laughing and scowled. She continued, “Oh, thou art so cute when thou doth endeavor to lecture us about senses. Please, doth continue. We wish to hear about this upheaval.”

The buck lowered his head, angling his antlers at Ditzy. He snorted, then said, “The Morrígan, soon-she-comes. Verily, almost here, she-is. Black the sky-will-be with her feathers, and blighted the land-will-be with her shadow. And the ponies of Equestria, dead or gone forever soon-they-be. When satisfied, the Morrígan-be, rulers of the land we-will-be.”

“And then thy senses can be dulled from living under the sun, eh?”

“In this hour, you-jest?”

“We jest because we know of the one you call the Morrígan. The same one who the sheep of the east called Czernobaa, who the llamas of the south called Xollotll, and who the Saddle Arabians called Angra Maneyu. Of old, the earth ponies called it the Void Treader, the pegasi called it the Eyeless King, and the unicorns called it Tha ... Th’cluh … a stupid name with too few vowels!”

“So you-know what she-holds, power-wise.”

“And we know how to waylay it so it sets neither claw nor jointed appendage nor feather on Equestrian soil.”

“Waylay? The Morrígan? Many mad words you-did-say tonight, but the maddest by far those-be.”

“And thou hast no idea who we are. Tell us, art thou familiar with the title, ‘mare of the blessed eyes’? Nay, speakest not. The look in thine eyes is answer enough. Verily, there are some in King Nuada’s court who think us a soothsayer. And we would speak sooth for thou, if thou wilt hear it.”

Éthuran shifted on his hooves, but he met Ditzy’s gaze.

She continued, “Thy father and the other generals of the fia sídhe will gather their armies. They will then marvel as the Morrígan fails to arrive and ponykind remains in Equestria. Thou wilt remember this conversation—the madpony with wonked eyes who said she would stop the Morrígan—and thou wilt realize that she was true to her word. Thou wilt share the tale with thy father.”

Ditzy prodded Éthuran’s chest and continued. “Then, thou and the rest of the fia will learn a very important lesson: Leave our little ponies alone.”

Ditzy extinguished her lantern as she entered the moonlit clearing. She moved as silently as possible. Fluttershy’s back yard was not quiet; the nocturnal members of her menagerie made certain of that. But the noise could not be relied on to completely mask Ditzy’s approach, either. Her target, the chicken coop, was silent, its residents having apparently settled down for the evening.

Ditzy poked her head into the doorway, and her eyes went wide. Not a single chicken was in sight. She scanned the nest boxes, the floor, and every corner. Then she looked up and saw them. All of the hens roosted on a shelf directly above the door.

This actually makes things easier, Ditzy thought. I was afraid I’d have to steal an egg right from underneath a sleeping hen.

She crept to the left wall and inspected the nest boxes. The first two were empty. The third had something white which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be some feathers. The fourth had a white rock which Ditzy mistook for an egg until she picked it up in her mouth. Stupid rock, what the hay are you doing here?! she thought as she spat it back into the nest.

The rock bounced out and landed on the floor. Ditzy closed her eyes and cringed at the clunk of stone on wood, then opened one eye to look at the roost. A single hen raised her head and blinked at Ditzy.

“Shhhhhhhhhhh,” Ditzy whispered. “I’m not really here ... This is but a dream … Goooooo back to sleeeeeeeeep …”

The hen stood up. Ditzy sang in a slightly louder whisper:

“Hush now! Quiet now!
It’s time to lay your sleepy head!
Hush now! Quiet now!
It’s …”

The hen turned to face the wall, then settled back down.

Ditzy sighed and returned to the nests. The next five were empty. Nest number eleven had two white, round objects. The first was another rock, which Ditzy placed back in the nest carefully. The second was a real egg.

Haha! Victory! Ditzy thought. She wrapped the egg with Abhean’s letter, then placed the bundle in her saddlebag. She crept towards the door. I’ve got everything I need now! I can do this, no prob—

She stepped on the first white rock and fell, smashing her head through the floor. After the crunch of breaking wood, there was a brief silence, then an explosion of furious squawks from over a dozen rudely awakened hens.

“Uuuugh. Stop the henhouse, I wanna get— Ow!” Ditzy pulled her head out of the new hole in the floor and found herself in a tornado of white feathers, beaks, and claws. “Come on, knock it off! That stings!”

Another voice cut through the cacophony—a voice that was the subject of fearful whispers across Ponyville, a voice Ditzy thought she would never hear with her own ears. “Who is messing with my chickens?!” Ditzy had doubted that Fluttershy was capable of such rage. She doubted no more.

Ditzy dashed out the door and made straight for the Everfree Forest. She knew if she could just reach the treeline, she could slip into another dimension and evade the shy one’s wrath. She didn’t make it. Something landed on Ditzy’s back, and she suddenly found herself pinned to the ground, with her right wing twisted behind her back.

“Ow! Ow!” she said. “Uncle! Uncle!”

Fluttershy approached from the side. “I swear to Celestia, if you’ve hurt one feather on their heads, I will make you wish oh, it’s you, Ditzy.”

The sudden switch from enraged to demure made Ditzy wish to look at Fluttershy’s face, but she couldn’t move her head. All she could see was grass and a pair of yellow hooves.

“Angel Bunny!” Fluttershy scolded. “You let her go this instant, mister! You know Ditzy Doo! She may be a little odd, but she would never hurt the chickens.”

The pressure disappeared from Ditzy’s wing and back, and a white rabbit hopped away from her, towards Fluttershy’s side. He gave Ditzy a look which could be classified a war crime in twelve different nations. Death glare aside, Ditzy had to admit the little monster was still pretty cute.

“Are you alright, Ditzy? I’m so sorry about Angel. You know how he can be sometimes.”

Ditzy stretched her right wing. “Eh, all that’s hurt is my pride.”

Fluttershy scanned the surroundings before turning back to Ditzy. “I don’t mean to be a nuisance, Ditzy, but did you happen see what was was bothering the chickens so much?”

“Aaaaaaaaaaugh!” Ditzy covered her face with her forelegs. “Please, mercy! Please don’t use your evil eye on me, or let the devil-bunny break my wings!”

“Um, what? Why would—”

“I scared the chickens! I didn’t mean to do it and I swear I didn’t hurt any of them! I just needed an egg! Just one egg!”

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhh. Shhhhhhhhhhh.” Fluttershy wrapped her forelegs around Ditzy’s shoulders and squeezed. The embrace was gentle, but firm. “You’re okay, I’m okay, and the chickens are okay. No one’s going to get hurt.”

Ditzy smiled and wrapped her own forelegs around Fluttershy. Glancing over Fluttershy’s shoulder, she met Angel’s gaze. He had amplified his glare—now it could be classified a war crime in twenty-three nations.

Fluttershy ended the hug and stepped back. “This isn’t going to become a regular thing, is it?” Ditzy shook her head, and Fluttershy continued, “Good. And now that this misunderstanding is cleared up, let’s step inside and get that egg for you.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Ditzy rose to her hooves. “I already found one.”

“Really? That shouldn’t … um … If you found one, I must have missed it when I collected the eggs at sunset. The ones in my icebox are probably much fresher.”

“It doesn’t matter! I’m sure this one will be fine.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Fluttershy cocked her eyebrows. “Ditzy, um, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you, um, need this egg for?”

“Ummm … That would be telling.”

“And why did you sneak into my back yard to steal an egg from the henhouse, rather than just knocking on my door and asking for one?”

“That would be ... I’m wondering that, myself, actually.”

“You’re acting stranger than usual, Ditzy. Um, no offense. What’s going on?”

“That would be running a punchline into the ground.”

Fluttershy’s expression grew even more confused. She turned to Angel, who stamped the ground and gestured wildly. Ditzy was in no mood to find out what these gestures meant.

“Um, bye,” she said and darted away.

Author's Note

Chickens lay their eggs communally, so they're more likely to lay in a spot that already has eggs. Farmers exploit this behavior by placing decoy eggs in the designated egg-laying spots. These decoys can be golf balls or anything that's round, white, and about the right size. As we've seen, Fluttershy uses rocks.

This has been your Chicken Fact for today.

Fridge Over Troubled Waters (Midnight)

Ditzy flew along the road to Ponyville city square. Getting this egg took a lot longer than I expected, she thought. I hope there’s still …

A beam of purple light shot from the center of Ponyville, into the night sky.

“Time!” she shouted. “Oh hailstones, I need more time!”

She changed direction and flew towards her apartment.

Midnight: Fridge Over Troubled Waters

Ditzy exited her apartment, banked a hard left into the street, and dashed onto Bridle Boulevard. Then, a voice brought her to an abrupt halt.

“Hold it right there, young lady!”

“Problem, Constable Peeler?” Ditzy faked a smile for the stallion.

“Perhaps.” Peeler scowled at her. “Where are you going, in such a hurry and at such a late hour?”

“Town square.” Ditzy paced in place.

“And what is your business there?”

“Constable Peeler, Ponyville’s curfew rules were repealed months ago.” Left unspoken was the second half of the sentence: … because you were the only one who cared about enforcing them. “So … if you’re not going to arrest me, I really need to be going.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Ditzy.” Peeler’s face was apologetic, but the heavy hoof he placed on Ditzy’s shoulder may as well have been a manacle. “If you can’t tell me what’s ahoof, then I’ll have to take you back to the station for questioning. Probable cause and all that.”

Ditzy looked at Peeler, then in the direction of the town square, then back to Peeler. She sighed. “There’s a bomb in Town Hall.”

Peeler recoiled from Ditzy, but kept his voice calm as he replied, “What?”

“I was on my way to defuse it! I didn’t want to tell because I didn’t want anypony to panic—”

“Town square and all the adjacent buildings will need to be evacuated!”

“Yes, of course! And I can—”

“You will do absolutely nothing, Ditzy. This is a job for a bomb squad, not a civilian.”

“But—”

“No buts! That is an order, young lady: stay out of this and let Ponyville’s finest do their job.”

Constable Peeler turned and began galloping. He didn’t get two paces before Ditzy lifted off and bolted towards town square. She didn’t get two feet before she heard hoofbeats and a shout behind her. Seconds later, Constable Peeler’s considerable weight was upon her back. The world shrank about Ditzy, until it consisted only of the gravel road and the uniformed earth pony pinning her against it.

Her head swam as Peeler dragged her by the tail to the edge of the road. When Ditzy’s head cleared, she found her right forehoof cuffed to a lamppost.

“What the deuce?” Peeler said. “Ditzy, have you lost your mind?”

Ditzy opened her mouth, but a reply came from somepony else: “Perhaps.”

Ditzy and Peeler both turned as the voice’s owner stepped into the lamplight. Ditzy groaned. Peeler cocked an eyebrow as he greeted the newcomer: “Dr. Time Turner Hooves?”

Dr. Hooves smiled. “The same. Constable Peeler, I must congratulate you on—”

“Time Turner,” Peeler interrupted, “I am conducting official police business, so I must request that you kindly step off.”

Without breaking his smile, the doctor produced his timepiece and extended it to Peeler. The constable glared at the doctor a few seconds longer before sparing a glance at the watch’s cover. His eyes widened, and his face paled—or at least the patches that weren’t already white did.

“Constable,” Dr. Hooves said, “this is much bigger than police business, I can assure you.”

Peeler looked at Ditzy. Wordlessly, he regained his composure, straightening his posture and turning back to meet Hooves’ gaze.

The doctor continued, “I must question Miss Derpy Hooves, a.k.a. Ditzy Doo. I trust I will have your full cooperation in this matter?”

“Well, that depends.” Peeler’s stoic expression was betrayed by the slight quirk of his eyebrow. “I trust you’ve filled out the proper paperwork beforehand?”

Hooves’ face was blank. “What? Paperwork?”

“But of course! To speak with a suspect already in custody, outside your jurisdiction, you’ll need to fill out a Writ 220-J, in triplicate, and submit it for approval to the law enforcement station acting as custodian. Don’t worry, Ponyville P.D. is usually quite prompt at responding to such writs.”

“Outside my jurisdiction? Outside my—”

“Alternately, you can take custody of the suspect yourself. This, of course, would require a Royal Warrant for her arrest, approved by either the Canterlot D.A. or one of the royal sisters.”

“Warrant?” Dr. Hooves jabbed a hoof in Ditzy’s direction. “She’s already under arrest! Why in Tartarus do I need a warrant to interrogate her?!”

Peeler stepped between Hooves and Ditzy. “She is in Ponyville P.D.’s custody, and therefore under its protection. Suspected criminals have rights, too, not least of which are freedom from interrogation and/or seizure by law enforcement officers who haven’t filled out the proper paperwork. Abduction is a crime, Dr. Hooves, especially when committed by an R.S.S. spook!”

Dr. Hooves’ jaw hung open. It was Ditzy who broke the silence. “Um, aren’t you forgetting something?” Peeler and Hooves each met half of her gaze. “The bomb in Town Hall, remember?”

“What? A bomb?” Dr. Hooves sputtered. “That doesn’t make any sense! It doesn’t fit in with your ...” He turned to Peeler. “She’s lying. I’m sure of it.”

“It is a bit of a tall tale,” Peeler answered, “but we can’t afford to disregard a bomb threat. Especially since Miss Ditzy Doo doesn’t have a history of lying about these matters.”

“Very well. I’ll keep an eye on the suspect while you go … deal with that.”

“Nonsense, doctor.” Peeler placed a hoof on Hooves’ shoulder and led him away. “Ditzy Doo isn’t going anywhere, as we can both see, and we need as many hooves on the ground as we can spare to deal with this bomb. Now, this way!”

Dr. Hooves muttered under his breath as he and Constable Peeler cantered away. When their hoofsteps faded, Ditzy focused on her own forehoof and the cuff binding it. She moved her hoof as far to her left as she could, rotated her cannon slightly clockwise, and moved her hoof hlåvwise.

She paused. Her ear twitched as a new set of hoofsteps approached the lamp post. She turned her head to address the latest interruption.

“Dr. Hooves?” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Constable Peeler?”

“Oh, I am,” the doctor answered. “Really, Ditzy … Hold that thought. In the interest of politeness, would you rather I address you as Ditzy or Derpy?”

“These days, I only answer to Detsella Renombrada Morningdew.”

Dr. Hooves glared. “Very well then. ‘Bubbles’ it is.” He sighed and resumed walking, tracing a clockwise circle around the lamp. Ditzy kept an eye on him, and, as soon as his attention shifted away from her, moved her cuffed hoof two inches to the west.

“Really,” the doctor continued, “you’re not doing yourself any favors with this antagonism. A minute ago, you were surprised at me being two places at once, which is foal’s play in this line of work. It would appear that you’re in way over your head. But … there is the matter of your sabotage this morning—far too subtle to be the work of a complete novice.”

Ditzy flexed her cuffed pastern three times, then moved her hoof two inches to the fjoth.

“It’s a fascinating paradox. You are a very interesting pony, Bubbles. And that’s why I want to help you.”

Dr. Hooves paused and closed his eyes. Ditzy brushed her bound hoof along the ground, feeling for the ragged boundary between the seventh and negative-twelfth dimensions. She found a short length of iron chain and grasped it in her pastern, resisting the impulse to smile.

“Now, obviously, I’m not allowed to question you. You can thank the beef-headed constable for that one. But, if you were to—spontaneously, of your own free will—tell me everything you know about your superiors and their organization, then I could pull some strings to have your punishment lightened. Perhaps even let you off with just a slap on the hoof. However, if you stonewall, then I can assure you there won’t be any leniency.”

Ditzy stopped moving as Dr. Hooves stepped beside her.

“Am I making myself clear? Oh wait, that was a question. Don’t answer it!” The doctor smirked, and Ditzy replied with her best deadpan stare. “Anyway, while you think over my offer, I’m going to take a look at this …” He opened Ditzy’s saddlebag and peered inside.

“Hey!” Ditzy shouted, resisting the temptation to swat Dr. Hooves. She wouldn’t be able to reach him without letting go of the chain—and there would be no telling which dimension it would land in.

“Now, now,” Hooves replied, “that constable never said anything about searching your possessions.”

As the doctor rooted through the bag, Ditzy turned her right foreleg to the east, then to the drŵst.

“Hmm …” Dr. Hooves said to himself, “a flattened cardboard box, a mirror …”

Ditzy’s hoof found the arc of another planar intersection, and traced its arctangent.

“... which appears to have been cut in half ... a salt shaker …”

With a bend of the elbow, Ditzy pulled her right hoof back into three-dimensional space.

“... something wrapped in parchment …”

“Dr. Hooves? I’m willing to talk.”

With a single bound, the doctor was in front of Ditzy, smiling like a colt in a candy shop. “Most wonderful. I’m all ears. What would you like to tell me first?” He leaned forward, placing his muzzle inches from Ditzy’s.

“Well …”

Ditzy’s right forehoof traced a path around Dr. Hooves’ forelegs—a nineteen-dimensional figure eight.

“... the most important thing is …”

She pulled her hoof back into normal space and raised it.

“... we’re even now.”

She pressed her hoof into the doctor’s nose. “Boop!”

Ditzy galloped past the doctor. His baffled, slack-jawed stare—half-glimpsed as she swept by—stuck in her mind. She laughed to herself as she sped down Bridle Boulevard.

Ditzy didn’t look back. She didn’t need to: the sounds from behind told her exactly what Dr. Hooves was doing. First there was an indignant cry as he realized his quarry had escaped. Two hoofsteps, as he leaped to pursue her. A yowl of pain and confusion, and an extended crunch of gravel, as the doctor learned firsthoof how hard it was to gallop with his forelegs cuffed together.

I’m lucky, she thought, that nopony’s invented higher-dimensional hoofcuffs yet.

She turned to her right, into an alley—and skidded to a halt. Dr. Hooves stood before her. His scowling face was scratched, and his disheveled mane still had bits of gravel in it. He snorted, lowered his head, and scraped the ground with his no-longer-cuffed foreleg.

Dr. Hooves charged. Ditzy leaped, flapping her wings to sail over his head. As she landed, she could hear the doctor skidding—then a hoof struck the back of her head. She fell.

Ditzy twisted her neck and looked behind her. Dr. Hooves turned around and trotted towards her. Nearer, the silhouette of her assailant loomed over her. In the darkness, Ditzy couldn’t quite make out his coat color, but she recognized his piercing blue eyes.

Her own eyes widened. Apparently the doctor hadn’t exaggerated when he mentioned being two places at once.

A flash of light, and the sound of four hooves landing on the ground, brought Ditzy’s attention to the other end of the alley. A third Dr. Hooves stood there. Ditzy was surrounded.

As the three doctors drew closer, part of Ditzy’s brain sprang into action. Unfortunately, it was the part responsible for cataloguing irrelevant details during times of stress. She didn’t see any escape route, but she did notice that the three Dr. Hooveses were not completely identical. The second doctor—the one who struck Ditzy—looked even more disheveled than the first one, and he sported a fresh black eye. The third doctor’s eye was nearly swollen shut, but his mane was in a somewhat more presentable shape. While the first and third doctors glared at Ditzy, doctor number two instead looked rather intently at number three.

However, the second doctor turned to Ditzy with startling suddenness. “You,” he said, “are definitely not a novice. In fact, I must say that was some clever psychology on your part. Let this be a lesson to me about underestimating attractive female agents. We’re certainly not taking any chances—”

The first doctor interrupted. “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

The second doctor heaved a dramatic sigh. “Excuse me, the adults are talking here.”

“Well excuse me, but you’re the one who’s intruding on my arrest! I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You never ask for help!”

“And you always barge in anyway to ‘save me’ when I don’t need it! I had this situation well under control—”

“You forgot she could fly! Pray tell, in what century would that be considered ‘under control’?”

“Oh for the love of Celestia!” the third doctor interjected. “Do you blockheads even listen to the words coming out of your mouths?” He pointed at the first doctor. “You sound like an ungrateful simpleton!” He pointed at the second doctor. “And you sound like an egotistical imbecile! And now I sound stupid for yelling at you!”

“Can’t argue with that last one,” both the other doctors simultaneously deadpanned.

“Oh, stuff it.” The third doctor walked towards the other two, stepping between them and Ditzy. “Neither of you have any idea what’s really going on here, because you’re working off a bunch of half-baked assumptions, rather than listening to the only pony who knows anything: Ditzy Doo.”

Ditzy stared, slack-jawed, at Doctor number three. Number two shook his head. Number one boggled for a few seconds, then sputtered, “You … you …”

“Oh brother,” said the second doctor. “Here it comes.”

The third doctor sighed and rolled his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

The first doctor pointed a hoof at number three and screamed, “Evil mirror universe clone! Evil mirror universe clone!”

“Really now,” the second doctor said. “Mirror universes are purely theoretical. Besides, he doesn’t even have a goatee.”

“Evil mirror universe clone! Evil—”

“Ahem.” The third doctor closed his eyes and began singing in a warbly tenor:

“Who needs forever?
Love me today.
Let’s forget tomorrow,
it’s too—”

The first doctor gasped loudly, interrupting the song. His gaze darted between doctors number two and number three. “The trust password has been compromised!” he shouted. “Code ultraviolet! Repeat, the trust passwo—”

The third doctor punched him in the face. He flailed his hooves in retaliation, then the second doctor leaped into the fray, and the trio became whirlwind of thrown hooves and brown-coated bodies.

“Maniac!”

“Blockheads!”

“Turncoat!”

One of the doctors was expelled from the ball of violence. He gingerly touched a hoof to his eye, where a bruise was beginning to form. He then ran away, shouting, “Everypony for himself! Code ultraviolet!”

The two remaining Hooveses continued grappling. Ditzy glanced back and forth, from the alley’s exit to the fighting time travelers. On the one hoof, she knew her time was running out. On the other hoof, one of these Dr. Hooveses had come to her defense, so it didn’t feel right to abandon him if he needed help. But on the third hoof, she couldn’t tell which doctor was which anymore.

Before Ditzy could decide anything, one of the doctors got the other in a stranglehold from behind.

“You …” the strangled one choked out. “We both know you can’t really hurt me. … Since you’re just me … from the future.”

“Oh?” The strangler loosened his hold slightly. “So you realize—”

“Yes, yes, that mirror universe thing was poppycock. I’m suitably mortified at my past self for entertaining the notion.”

“And since I’m from the future, clearly I’m …”

“Brainwashed.” The grip around his neck tightened. “You can’t hurt me! I know you’re just bluffing!”

“Am I? Am I? Try me, you dunce! Maybe I’ll get angry enough to break causality! Maybe I’ll—”

“Um, excuse me,” Ditzy Doo interrupted. “He’s unconscious now.”

“Oh dear!” Doctor Hooves released the hold, and his double slumped to the ground. “I guess I got a little carried away there. That could have been …” He whipped his head towards Ditzy. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have something important to do?”

“But …”

“Butts are for sitting on, and there’s no time to sit! Go! Do your … thing!”

Ditzy spun and galloped out of the alley.

Ditzy approached a street corner and flared her wings, preparing to take flight. She rounded the corner—and was blinded by a flare of purple light.

“Aaargh!” She screwed her eyes shut as she skidded to a halt.

“Oh, hello, Ditzy Doo,” Twilight Sparkle said. From her tone of voice, she did not sound pleased. “Fancy running into you at this hour.”

“Yeah, fancy that.” Ditzy fidgeted her wings. “Look, Twilight, I’m sorry to keep brushing you off, but now is really not a good time. Can we talk—”

“Later?” Twilight snorted. “Yes, of course we can talk ‘later’. In fact, it seems like ‘later’ is the only time we can ever talk! Because ‘now’ is apparently never a good time! No, forget it.”

Ditzy’s heart sank. It sank with such velocity that she was surprised it didn’t burst out the bottom of her hoof and burrow its way into the planet’s molten core.

“That information you read,” Twilight said, “well, you’re not the first pony to illegally access it. But do you know what happened to those others? Fined. Imprisoned. Fined while in prison!”

Twilight’s hooves crunched against the gravel, and her voice moved with it. Ditzy’s mind raced, seeking some way to escape from the Bearer of the Element of Magic, the personal student of Princess Celestia.

Twilight continued, “But you must already know that, because the warning is clearly posted in the only library in the world that holds that information! A library that even I have only been allowed to enter twice.”

Ditzy mentally discarded her seventh escape plan, then she noticed that Twilight’s hoofsteps and voice were behind her. Her eye twitched, in spite of being tightly shut. She whipped around to face the voice.

Twilight said, “You’re not—”

“Stop it!” Ditzy interrupted. “Stop it stop it stop it stop it!”

“What?”

“You’re pacing around me! In a circle! Stop doing that! In the past few days, I’ve been on the receiving end of entirely too many monologues from ponies circling me, and I can’t take any more! If you wanna lecture me, then fine, I’ll listen. Just, do it in front of me!”

“That’s … reasonable, I guess.” Twilight sounded somewhat taken aback, but her voice regained its prior confidence as she continued. “But that’s what I was trying to say. You’re not stupid, Ditzy. You’re certainly not stupid enough to gain legitimate access to that library and just … not mention that to me, for no reason! So I can only assume that you’re up to no good. Which means it’s my duty to stop you.”

Ditzy sighed. “Well, what are you going to do, then?”

“Do? I already did it.” Twilight’s hoof prodded Ditzy’s chest. “I sent a strongly worded letter to Princess Celestia.”

A few seconds’ silence followed. Ditzy broke it with a flat “What?”

Twilight’s hoof found its way to Ditzy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry it had to be this way. Would it help if I wrote to you in prison?”

“What?”

“Nevermind. I hope I’ll see you again, someday.”

“What?”

Receding hoofsteps signaled Twilight Sparkle’s departure. Ditzy opened one eye to risk a glance, and found the purple glow was gone.

“What?” she said, her words echoing in the empty street.

Ditzy sped towards Town Hall, the source of the purple light beaming into the sky. She alighted on the porch and swallowed to choke back her bile. A revolting odor surrounded her, as if the air itself were dying around the spatial anomaly.

He’s almost here, she thought.

She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out the flattened cardboard and the salt shaker. With a few folds, the cardboard formed a small box.

The ground shook slightly. In the corner of Ditzy’s vision, something moved inside the nearest wall. She turned one eye towards it as she unscrewed the top of the salt shaker. What she saw revived half-forgotten memories of biology lessons. Looks like scorpion mouthparts, she thought. What were those called, again? Cheli-something?

She dumped the salt into the box and taped it shut. Grasping the box between her forehooves, she gave it a shake. Nothing happened. She shook it again, and nothing continued to happen.

“Come oooon…” she muttered, shaking the box and resolving not to stop until she got results. About thirty seconds passed, and the ground rumbled beneath Ditzy as the appendage in the wall shifted.

Then, a new sound came from the box—something much larger than a salt crystal striking the lid. The box suddenly gained several pounds. Ditzy yanked her hooves back and let the box fall. It continued to shake. Five legs punched through the box, and then the floor beneath it, as if the cardboard and the wood planks were both wet tissues. The legs were covered in a smooth exoskeleton and ended in sharp claws.

And, much to Ditzy’s surprise, they were a pleasing shade of aquamarine. She had thought that all tyndalocurrs were tar-black.

With her forehoof, Ditzy kicked the box. It struck the nearest wall then slid down—past the point where the wall would have joined the floor if normal three-dimensional space weren’t napping—into the abyss.

Two screams filled Ditzy’s ears as she sped towards the basement floor. One screamer had the voice of a pair of thousand-foot-long iron bars scraping against each other, chattering their teeth as they did. The other had the voice of an earthquake with phlegm in its throat. Ditzy smiled slightly. A single tyndalocurr versus the Eyeless King was a ludicrously uneven fight, but it would at least delay the King for a few crucial minutes.

Ditzy landed on the basement floor, in front of the refrigerator. She grabbed the parchment-wrapped egg from her saddlebag, tore its wrapping off, and placed the egg in the fridge.

As she waited for something to happen, Ditzy's eyes wandered to the crumpled parchment on the floor. With one hoof, she smoothed it out until the writing was visible. She focused on the one part of Abhean’s letter that she could decipher: the blessing in the final paragraph.

She glanced back at the egg. Nothing had happened to it. She quirked an eyebrow and turned back to the letter. She carefully folded it, then tore the final paragraph from the rest of the letter. She ate it.

Maybe this will be helpful, she thought as she chewed. “May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back.” I can use some of that where I’m going. I just hope that “May you reach the shores of Mag Mell a full hour before the Gan Ceann know you’re dead,” won't be necessary.

She swallowed and turned back to the fridge. The egg was still just as she had left it. “Oh, come on,” she muttered.

She paced for a minute, but nothing still continued happening. “Come on come on come on …”

She slammed her hooves on the shelf on each side of the egg. The nothing-happening streak remained unbroken. “Come on come on come on come on!”

The ground shook once more, but the egg stubbornly persisted in doing nothing.

“No no no no no no!” She punctuated her cry by slamming the fridge door shut.

“Arrrrrrrgfrstl!” She bucked the empty space behind her, stomped in a circle—vigorously shaking her head and snorting all the while—then bucked once more for good measure.

She sighed and glanced back at the fridge. Wait a second, she thought, squinting at the closed door. She opened the door. Inside, the egg glowed fluorescent pink.

Ditzy scrunched her eyes shut for five seconds. When she opened her eyes again, the egg was still glowing—steadily and brightly, the light of a very stable Krasnicker tube. She reared back, kicking her forelegs and shouting “Ha-haaa!” to the heavens.

Ditzy placed one forehoof on the tube’s threshold, and looked at the fridge’s bottom shelf. She confirmed that half of the mirror—the same mirror that had been hanging on Carrot Top’s wall two days ago—was still resting there. She made certain the mirror’s other half was securely in her saddlebag, then placed her other hoof on the threshold. She pushed both hooves, up to her fetlocks, into the Krasnicker tube. Tensing her rear legs, she took a deep breath, then exhaled.

The warm, prickling sensation on her fetlocks reminded Ditzy how strange it felt to transition from normal space to folded, inner tubespace. Thank Celestia I’m not ticklish, she thought.

She closed her eyes and leaped.

Space inside a Krasnicker tube is folded in ways considered impossible by all but a hoofful of arguably mad physicists and magicians. The spatial folds are particularly impossible at the tube’s perimeter.

Impossibility does not mix well with physical matter.

As Ditzy crossed the threshold, a wave of profound dislocation washed over her. For a brief moment, she felt as though her neck were a thousand miles long, her teeth were too large for her mouth, her fur were made of paper clips, and her hooves were made of ice cream. Before she could even consider reacting, the feeling passed, and her own skin felt comfortable again.

Ditzy had assumed the pose—her legs outstretched, her head held low, and her wings clasped tightly to her sides—as one does when traversing a Krasnicker tube. Ideally, she would not need to flap, and momentum would carry her to her destination.

After what felt like a minute, she chanced to open her eyes. The visible portion of the Krasnicker tube’s perimeter, which would normally appear to be a series of glowing pink rings, sped past so quickly that it resembled a solid but translucent wall. The tube stretched into the distance with no end in sight. Outside the wall, shapes were moving. Ditzy closed her eyes.

Possibly two minutes passed, and she opened her eyes. She was centered in the tube, with enough clearance that another pony could comfortably fit between her and either wall, floor, or ceiling. Safe for now, she thought, but no room for carelessness. She still couldn’t see the tube’s end. She closed her eyes.

About five minutes later, she opened her eyes. The end of the tube was visible, but so far away that it appeared smaller than a bit coin.

Outside the tube, darkness hovered over aimless shapes. Radiant points of blackness were splashed across the sky—inverted stars arranged in reverse constellations. Behind them, garishly colored geometric objects moved about, filling all visible space. A blue circle bisected a scarlet rhombus, whose halves seamlessly rejoined seconds later. An orange triangle morphed into a quadrilateral, without any of its angles changing. A yellow pentagon passed in front of a cluster of nine black stars—then a green shape with about twenty sides passed in front of the pentagon, but behind the black stars.

Ditzy yawned. Then she noticed something close to her. A small pebble—a bit of Ponyville gravel dislodged from her own mane, most likely—was flying at the same speed as her. Slowly, it drifted away from Ditzy, towards the tube’s edge—but not slowly enough.

Ditzy gulped and looked forward. The end of the tube still looked about the diameter of her outstretched hoof. She wouldn’t reach it before the pebble hit the tube’s side.

The pebble was a few inches away from the side. Ditzy gulped, shook out her wings, and braced herself. Any second now …

There was a blinding flash of blue light. Ditzy banked and flapped towards it as hard as she could. At the same time, the shockwave pushed her away—towards the opposite wall. With the shockwave, neutrinos and vril particles washed over her. Their intense heat lasted less than a second. Gritting her teeth, Ditzy flapped more, fighting her momentum from the shockwave. She screwed her eyes shut and felt her sideways movement slowing … and finally stop.

Ditzy opened her eyes. She was inches away from the wall. Flapping carefully, she moved away, back into the tube’s center. Satisfied that she once again hurtling at an impossible speed down the straight, safe path, she sighed. Then she noticed that the tip of her right forehoof was singed.

Outside the tube, the chaotic mass of colors had become ordered. At some point when Ditzy was distracted, the various colored shapes had all assumed the same form and grown completely still. The sky was full of circles.

Kinda creepy, she thought.

She reached the end of the tube and blasted through the threshold.

Upon exiting the tube, Ditzy felt cramped. When a few seconds passed, and the feeling persisted, she realized it was not merely the effect of transitioning from tubespace. She was, in fact, crammed into an area too small for her.

What did I expect? she thought. I'm inside a fridge.

She extended her legs to push against all four sides, and the one behind her gave slightly. Bracing against the opposite wall with her forelegs, she kicked backwards.

The fridge door swung open. Ditzy scooted backwards, then the shelf broke beneath her, spilling her onto the floor outside. A bowl full of salad landed on her head.

Ignoring the crisp, wet lettuce on her scalp, Ditzy looked in every direction for the owner of the fridge and found nopony. Or rather, no one—she couldn’t make assumptions about the inhabitants of this alien planet.

However, she could venture some guesses based on her surroundings. First, these aliens were probably not too alien, because their refrigerator was almost identical to one of Equestrian design. Second, they must have liked huge, blank spaces, because Ditzy was in the center of a concrete chamber, large enough to comfortably contain her entire apartment four times. The refrigerator was the only furniture. There were no decorations in any electromagnetic spectrum. The only things that broke the monotony of concrete were a blackened spot on the ceiling directly overhead, a much larger burnt spot on the floor below, and a single window directly facing Ditzy.

The salad bowl slid off her head. It struck the floor, and its echoing crack brought Ditzy’s mind back from its wandering. Before the echoes faded, a voice interrupted: “Oh for crying out loud! Who let a filly into the test chamber?”

Ditzy looked around for its owner, but the room remained as empty as before. “I told you, bro,” another voice chimed in. “Bring Your Daughter To Work Day is an accident waiting to happen. I warned you!”

There were two pale shapes behind the window. The one to the right moved slightly, in time with the second voice’s words. These were the owners of the voices. Ditzy ran towards them.

The one on the left said, “Whose daughter is that anyway? Ed’s?”

Ditzy was close enough to get a good look at the aliens. They were of equinoid shape but much taller, at least the height of one of the princesses. They had strangely folded skin and one dark, pupil-less eye covering most of their faces.

“No idea, bro,” the one on the right said. “I can never tell any of those gray fillies apart. Wait, what is she—”

Ditzy slammed her forehooves into the glass. “Hey, you!” she shouted.

“Little girl,” Leftie said, “you’re not supposed to be in there.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll be leaving in a minute. I just need to do one thing first. How big were—”

“Little girl, that room is dangerous. If you don’t leave right now, you could get hurt very badly, and I’m sure you’d get in a lot of trouble with your parents.”

“Urrrrgh. Let me guess: this room is dangerous because that fridge keeps producing high-yield exothermic reactions, right?”

The two aliens looked at each other.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ditzy said. “So how big is the blast radius?”

“Oh brother,” Rightie muttered. “How classified is this research, again? Someone’s gonna get fired over this.”

Leftie nodded and turned to Ditzy. “Did your father tell you about these experiments, little girl?”

“For crying out loud!” Ditzy flailed her forehooves then started pacing in front of the window. “My dad is LaMonte Burningspear Morningdew. He knows nothing about this place and you’ve never met him because he’s from another planet!”

The two aliens looked at each other again, then back at Ditzy. They said nothing.

Ditzy stopped pacing and snorted. “So I will ask you one more time: how big is the blast radius?”

“Um…” Leftie said. “If you know about the blasts in that room, why are you still in there?”

“Oh for the love of the Princess! Because I’m the one who causes them!”

With a groan, she turned away and looked at the refrigerator. Her gaze traveled down, to the blackened floor below the fridge. “Hmmmm.” Her eyes split and looked at the opposite sides of the charred circle. In her mind, she compared the size of this circle to the ground floor of Ponyville Town Hall.

“What?” Leftie said. “You caused them? How? Why?”

Ditzy flew to the edge of the blackened circle. She landed and trotted around its circumference, counting her hoofsteps as she went.

“How did you …” Lefty sputtered. “What are you doing?”

Ditzy got all the way around the charred circle before remembering that she didn’t actually know Town Hall’s circumference in hoofsteps.

“Why are you facehoofing?”

Even without knowing the exact circumference, Ditzy was reasonably certain that the blast was larger than Ponyville Town Hall by a comfortable margin. She dashed over to the fridge. Alright, she thought, now I just have to … Huh.

The fridge was completely empty: no food and no Krasnicker tube. “Hmmmmmm.”As Ditzy shifted her weight, something wet crunched beneath her hooves. She was standing on the same salad she had spilled mere minutes ago. “Hmmmmmm.” She furrowed her eyebrows as she glanced back and forth between the salad on the floor and the empty fridge. An egg on my end of the tube and a salad on this end? she thought.

“I’ll have to completely overhaul my tube-formation hypothesis when this is over,” she muttered. “Well, at least this means I did it. … I …”

Her eyes widened. “I did it! Yes yes yes yes yes …” She punctuated each shout with a leap into the air. She continued shouting and leaping until the salad was reduced to an indistinguishable mush beneath her hooves. “... yes yes yes yes yes! Ha HA!” She took to the air, shaking her haunches and flailing her hooves as she sang, “I diiiid it! I diiiiiiiiid it! Who’s an awesome pony? Who i—”

Ditzy froze, midair. The two aliens were staring silently at her. She coughed once and flew towards them.

Rightie shook her head. “She’s flying. That filly is flying. You can see her flying, right, bro?”

Leftie nodded. Rightie continued, “We must be tripping. Someone put locoweed in our lunch or something, bro. And now we’re hallucinating about a filly who knows Agni Classified information and can fly.”

Ditzy tapped the window with her forehoof. “For your information,” she said, “I am a full-grown mare, thank you very much!”

She looked Rightie straight in the eye. Something was behind that eye, something suggesting an equine face. Realization struck Ditzy like a bowl of salad to the head. These creatures’ “eyes” were actually darkened faceplates; their “skin” was actually an impermeable fabric. These extraterrestrials were horses in hazardous material suits. Ditzy couldn’t tell if they were Saddle Arabians, or perhaps one of their mythical ancestors, but they were certainly horses.

She shook her head and continued. “Anyway, you’re the ones who kept putting food in that fridge. Right?”

Rightie nodded. “Well, we're not the only ones,” Leftie added. “There's about a dozen other researchers working on this project.”

Ditzy leaned into the window until her nose touched the glass. “Stop. Doing. That.”

“What?”

“Every time you put food in there, it forms a Krasnicker tube to my home planet.”

“A what?”

“A Krasnicker tube! A high energy, extradimensional connection between two points in your space-time manifold, possibly permitting faster-than-light travel between those points! They—”

“You mean a wormhole?”

“Whatever! Close enough. The point is, every time you guys make one, I’m the one who has to break the connection from the other end to stop it from blowing up my best friend's house!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Leftie raised a forehoof to his temple. “You’re saying that the fridge keeps forming wormholes to another planet, and you keep breaking them, and that’s what’s been causing these explosions?”

“Got it in one!”

“So you came here to make us stop the wormholes?”

“No, I came here to, um …” Ditzy scratched her chin. “... save my town from a monster. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Tiny flying horses and monsters?” Rightie said. “Your planet sounds pretty wild, sis.”

Ditzy shrugged. “It’s home. And I really need to get back.”

Reaching into her saddlebag, she removed the remaining half of the mirror and placed it on the floor. She extended one hoof through the mirror, then paused and turned back to the alien horses.

“Those explosions from before ...” she said. “Um, they didn’t hurt anyone, did they?”

“I don’t think so?” Leftie answered, turning to Rightie and shrugging.

“Yeah, sis,” Rightie added. “The first one was in a warehouse and no one was inside at the time. The rest were right here in this lab.”

Ditzy sighed. “Thanks.” She climbed through the mirror.

Just like on the prior visit, it was a sunny midday on the other side of the mirror. Unlike the prior visit, the scene was much more active. The air was full of white spheres, possibly the same spheres she had seen on the ground before. Each was slightly smaller than Ditzy’s head. Some were rising and some were falling; none were moving with any urgency.

Ditzy wiggled halfway through the window pane, then found she couldn’t wiggle any further. Her saddlebag was caught on the mirror’s edge. She pushed against the wall with her forehooves, but that just made the bags dig painfully into her flanks. She wriggled back a few feet, then unclasped the saddlebag's strap. It slid off her back, onto the concrete floor of that alien world.

Ditzy slid forward, into the open air. She opened her wings, but before she could flap she found herself rising unintentionally.

“Whaaaaaa?” She kicked her legs and folded her wings, and her ascent slowed, then stopped. The air doesn’t feel any thicker than usual, she thought, looking around for some explanation. Is the gravity just weaker he— “Oh my princess!”

Something blotted out the sky behind the apartment building. It resembled a series of nested ovals: a black oval, inside a blue one, inside a white one, inside a massive pink shape. The overall effect made Ditzy’s stomach churn. “No. It can’t be …”

The black, blue, and white all disappeared—leaving the massive shape entirely pink for less than a second—then they returned. Ditzy blinked a few times. “Apparently it can be.”

A sudden current grabbed Ditzy and tossed her—along with most of the white balls—upwards. Flailing her legs, she slowly spun head over rump as she ascended. She flapped her wings the opposite direction, stabilizing herself—just before another current pushed her into the ground. Groaning and wondering why the ground felt like hard plastic, Ditzy picked herself up, just in time for another current to yank her back into the air. This time, she flew back down and pressed herself as tightly to the ground as she could.

Slowly, half crawling and half dragging herself, Ditzy made her way towards the façade of the apartment building. She was fifty feet away, and the white spheres were swirling in the air above her.

She was twenty-five feet away, and another current pulled her into the air. She flapped against the current and returned to the ground as quickly as possible.

She was ten feet away, and a white sphere bounced off her head.

She was five feet away, and everything darkened. The sky had turned brown—aside from the pink shape that still dominated the horizon.

She reached the apartment. She was just beneath a window—the window farthest from the one she had arrived at this place through. Holding her breath, she raised her hoof. When it passed effortlessly through the glass, she exhaled.

Ditzy spared one last look around her. The pink shape—it was a pink, equine face, and there was no point pretending it was anything else—had somehow come around the building to directly face Ditzy. She didn’t know if it saw her, and she didn’t care to find out. It blinked once more, and Ditzy scrambled through the window.

Once more, Ditzy found herself crammed inside a refrigerator. She located the door and kicked, but the door only opened slightly. This permitted a sliver of moonlight—just enough to see that the fridge was buried under wooden debris.

“Is anypony down there?” a voice called. It was very muffled—the speaker was outside the mountain of debris—but it sounded like Constable Peeler. “Hulloooooooo?”

“Down here!” Ditzy shouted. “I’m in the basement!”

There was some indistinct murmuring as Peeler spoke with somepony else. Then he called back to Ditzy, “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay! But I’m stuck down here!”

“Just hold tight! We’ll get you out, ma’am!”

An hour later, Peeler and the others had cleared enough debris away to open the fridge door. Ditzy zipped out, into the air. The sky above was clear, lit by the full moon. The buildings all around, at the edge of the city square, were completely undamaged.

Ponyville Town Hall was gone; the wooden wreckage below was all that remained.

“Woohooo! Feels so good to be …” She trailed off as she saw the faces of her rescuers. Aside from Constable Peeler, there were two pegasus stallions in police uniforms, and half a dozen civilian earth pony stallions. Most of them smiled back at her. But Peeler looked puzzled, and another stallion scowled severely at Ditzy. He still bore signs of his recent altercations with the ground and with himself. He even had some bits of gravel in his mane, still.

Ditzy glanced between Peeler, Hooves, and the way back to her apartment. Can I? she thought. Can I make it back there before they … She shook her head. No. No more running. Not this time.

She gulped, then descended. Upon landing, she inhaled and exhaled a few times before facing her rescuers and speaking. “Dr. Hooves, Constable Peeler, now that all this nonsense is over and Ponyville isn’t in immediate, existential peril, I think I owe you both an explanation.”

“Existential peril?” the doctor muttered under his breath.

Peeler turned to the nearest police stallion. “Deputy Chips, take the rest of the team and continue searching. This building should have been empty—” He shot a sideways glare at Ditzy before continuing, “—but we cannot afford to take any chances. Doctor Hooves and I can take Miss Doo’s statement.”

Fishen Chips snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!” Turning to the others, he called out, “Follow me, everypony!”

Dr. Hooves paced while the others departed by the path they had cleared through the rubble. As soon as he was alone with Ditzy and the Constable, he said, “Well, well, well. What an interesting turn of events. Who could have foreseen that this would end with Ponyville Town Hall blowing sky-high in the middle of the night?”

“Ditzy did,” Peeler answered. “She warned us about this, and I believed her.”

“Yes,” Ditzy said, “about that—”

“And that just raises further questions!” Dr. Hooves interrupted. “Tell me, Bubbles, was bombing Town Hall part of your plan all along, or is it something you just threw in at the last minute?”

“Bubbles?” Ditzy groaned. “Are you really still calling me that?”

“Wait…” Peeler butted in. “You can’t seriously be accusing Miss Doo of setting this bomb off, without any evidence!”

“No, no, both of you wait!” Ditzy interjected. “Before I say anything else, I need to know—Dr. Hooves, which of you am I talking to?”

The doctor furrowed his brows. “I don’t follow.”

“Am I talking to the you from the furthest in the future, or the second-furthest?”

Hooves’ scowl turned into a glare that could have stopped a clock. Nodding his head slightly towards Constable Peeler, he said, “Deliberately leaking sensitive information won’t make your sentence any lighter, dear.”

“Fine, let me reword it. Are you the one who was doing the chokehold, or the one who was getting choked?”

The doctor facehoofed, and Ditzy sighed. “The chokee, I presume,” she muttered. “Well, this conversation is going to be fun.”

Peeler glanced between Dr. Hooves and Ditzy. “Doctor, what the deuce is she talking about?”

“State secrets, Constable,” the doctor muttered. “Above your pay grade.” Planting all his hooves on the ground and standing up straight, he fixed his gaze firmly on Ditzy. “Now. You received the answer to your question, so it’s time you answered mine. Why did you bomb Town Hall?”

“First of all, it wasn’t a bomb,” Ditzy said, smirking. “It was a Krasnicker tube. A wormhole, if you prefer. As for why I did it, it was one of those ‘blow up a building to save the village’ situations. One of those ‘fighting fire with extradimensional explosions’ scenarios. It’s like they say: you can’t make an omelet without destroying Ponyville Town Hall once or twice.”

“Really. And what could possibly be bad enough to necessitate the complete destruction of Town Hall?”

“The return of the Eyeless King! The Void Treader!” Ditzy leaned forward and flared her wings as she shouted, “He whose footsteps level mountains and boil oceans! He who Qronos and Princess Nebulosa sacrificed their lives to blind and seal beyond the Ninth Darkness!” She stamped her hooves. “The Scarlet Ceremony had been fulfilled! He was coming right here! Ponyville would have been a radioactive crater before the Princesses or the Elements of Harmony could do anything!”

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. After her heartbeat had slowed down to normal, she opened her eyes and concluded. “So, the only solution was to break the summoning circle. Which happened to be Town Hall.”

Constable Peeler and Dr. Hooves both boggled at her. Peeler found his voice first. “Does she sound mad to you, too, doctor?”

“I’m afraid not,” Hooves answered. “If she really means what she says, then it sounds like she’s perfectly sane, and it’s the universe that’s gone mad. And if she’s lying, then it’s the whopper to end all whoppers. The Void Treader? The Ninth Darkness? Technically, I’m not even supposed to know about those.”

“Oh dear.” Constable Peeler gulped. “I’m starting to agree with you, doctor. I’m definitely not getting paid enough for this.”

“Well, I’m still not entirely convinced that she’s telling the truth. Really, Ditzy, are we supposed to believe that a horrible monster from beyond space and time was being summoned to Ponyville without either of the … I mean, without my noticing any warning signs?”

Ditzy quirked an eyebrow. “But you did notice one of the signs. The building started giving off tachyon radiation a few days ago.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you then and talked to you. Right outside Town Hall. You were waving some sort of scanner at it, and you took one look at the readings and said—” At this, Ditzy threw a hoof to her forehead and affected a voice that was almost, but not quite, exactly the opposite of Dr. Hooves’ voice, “—‘Oh my princess! Ditzy Doo was right all along! If only I had listened to her sooner! Oh, here she comes now to ask some questions! I should be as smug and evasive as possible!’”

Dr. Hooves rolled his eyes. “Even allowing for your transparent exaggerations, that doesn’t sound like anything I’ve said in the past week.”

“How could you forget that?! First you spied on my conversation with Twilight Sparkle, then you ran away when I tried to talk to you, and I lost you when you ducked into an alley. And then, somehow, you were at Town Hall! And apparently you fell out of a tree or got into a fight in between, because you looked …” Ditzy’s eyes widened. “You looked just like you do now.”

“Are you implying …”

“Dr. Hooves, you were at the time and place I described. I clearly remember it.” Ditzy prodded the doctor’s chest with her forehoof. “But you don’t remember it, because you haven’t done it yet.”

“Yes. Very clever, Ditzy. But how do I know you won’t just—”

“Nononono!” Ditzy flared her wings as she interrupted. “Not one more word! This conversation is over, until you go back and see the sign I was talking about.” She folded her wings and began walking away, then stopped to look back over her shoulder. “When you’ve done that, meet me on Stirrup Street. The alley between the muffin shop and that clock store.”

“Time Turner’s Timepieces? That clock store?”

“You know where it is, then?”

Dr. Hooves smirked. “Yes, I’ve heard of it once or twice. But how do I know you’ll be there?”

Constable Peeler said, “Because I will be accompanying her there.”

Ditzy blinked. “Sounds like a great idea.” She smiled as she added, “After all, when it comes to catching me and keeping me caught, Constable Peeler has a much better track record than you, doctor.”

Hooves muttered something under his breath, and he kicked the air behind him. A flash of green light covered him, and he was gone.

“Did …” Peeler said, “did he just catch on fire and disappear? Is that a thing that just happened?”

“No,” Ditzy said. “That was time travel.” She clambered out of the wreckage.

Peeler followed, then caught up. “Miss Doo, how long has the local clockmaker, who is also apparently a secret R.S.S. Agent, been able to time travel?”

“I dunno. I only found out he could do that today.”

“You’re remarkably calm about this, ma’am.”

“Sir, I’ve seen a lot of weird things. Sometimes, I just have to accept that it’s not gonna make sense, or I’ll go crazy trying to figure it out.”

“That seems an irresponsible way to live. Um, no offense. I suppose it’s served you well enough so far, ma’am.”

Ditzy shrugged and continued in silence.

As they turned onto Stirrup Street, Peeler spoke again.

“Have you ever considered, Miss Doo, how peaceful Ponyville is this time of night? So different from my last duty station. Behind every door on this street is somepony sound asleep in their bed, completely unaware of what you did tonight to save all of them.”

Ditzy sighed, then smiled. “Yeah. That’s really nice.”

“That is, of course, assuming that you actually did what you say you did.”

“Yes, of course. Alright, we’re here.”

Ditzy glanced into the alley, while Constable Peeler looked up at the two stores’ signs. “The Muffin Emporium,” he read. “You know, I’ve never eaten here. Is it good?”

Ditzy opened her mouth, but a flash of green light cut off her answer. Dr. Hooves stood before her. Ditzy couldn’t be sure, but he looked slightly more beaten-up than before. In spite of that, there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“My apologies if I’ve kept you waiting at all,” he said. “I had to stop by a certain alley on my way back, to close a time-like loop, and that may have thrown my count off a bit.”

Ditzy quirked an eyebrow at that.

“Yes, Ditzy,” Dr. Hooves continued, “that means exactly what you’re thinking. Speaking of which, there’s something I really should have asked you sooner.” He cleared his throat and sang a few lines:

“It’s only a paper moon,
hanging over a cardboard sea …”

He paused and extended an arm to Ditzy, as if hoofing an invisible something over to her.

“I’m sorry,” Ditzy said. “Where was the question?”

Dr. Hooves sighed. “Oh, thank the Princess. If this had been just a ‘right hoof versus left hoof’ misunderstanding, I would never live it down.” He turned to the Constable. “Constable Peeler, Miss Doo’s story checks out. At the time and place she described, there was a significant amount of tachyon radiation. So something was mucking about with time-space itself. Ditzy, I assume you can tell us more about this?”

Ditzy was already sitting, with her back to the alley. With a hoof, she tapped the spot next to her. “You should sit down. This will take a while to explain.”

Dr. Hooves and Constable Peeler sat down, one on each side of her. Ditzy cleared her throat and began.

“My alarm clock was broken, to begin with. That’s a story for another day, but I was walking to Alternating Current’s shop to get the clock fixed …”

“... and that took me back to Carrot Top’s fridge, which is where you found me.”

Ditzy smiled and closed her eyes. At her side, Dr. Hooves yawned and shook his head. He had nearly nodded off several times during Ditzy’s account.

Constable Peeler was the first to speak. “Miss Doo, I understand you have a bit of a reputation for being … Oh, how to put it?”

“Weird?” Ditzy said, opening one eye. “Missing a few marbles? A space cadet?”

“Eccentric?” Dr. Hooves volunteered.

“Yes,” Peeler said. “Let’s go with ‘eccentric.’ But after hearing your story, I can’t help but wonder just how much of your eccentricity was actually your saving Ponyville from destruction right under our very noses.”

“Oh,” Ditzy said, opening her other eye. “Well, I fix problems, but they’re not normally this severe. They’re—”

“What about that time a few weeks ago,” Dr. Hooves interrupted, “when you went swimming in the Ponyville aquifer? Lyra and Bon Bon saw you climb out of the well and everything. Is there a story behind that?”

“Uuurgh. I asked them not to tell …” Ditzy muttered to herself. To the doctor, she said, “There was an oanas egg mass in the aquifer. If they had hatched, the larvae would have made the water undrinkable for a whole month. So I moved the eggs to the lake outside town.”

“Oh. No problems pulling that caper off?”

“Nope. Pretty uneventful.”

“But what about last Winter Wrap Up, when you flew north to get all the migratory birds? Was that—”

“That was not my fault!” Ditzy struck the ground with a forehoof. “There was an extradimensional manufacturing error in the compass! It pointed in two directions! North and south were both the same!”

Hooves quirked an eyebrow. “How is that even possible?”

Ditzy grabbed his forehoof. “I can show you, if you’d like. And if you’re willing to step into the twenty-seventh dimension with me.”

“That, uh, won’t be necessary.” Hooves gulped.

“And the year before that?” Peeler asked. “When you flew west to get the birds? That was but a faulty compass, too?”

“No.” Ditzy hung her head. “That was all my fault.”

“Well,” Peeler said. “Miss Doo, even if incidents like the one that almost happened tonight are, as you say, few and far between, I think it behooves us to take some precautions. To stop future incidents before they reach the point where the only solution is destroying public property.”

“Okay,” Ditzy said. She could feel the tension build in her neck and shoulders; she had an idea where the conversation was heading.

“Based on your own description of these events, it appears to me that many of your obstacles stemmed from your decision to act alone and not tell anypony what you were doing. Do you disagree with that assessment?”

Ditzy stared at her hooves. “No,” she said, her voice flat.

“Why did you choose to act alone, if you don’t mind my asking?”

She exhaled. “Past experience has taught me that telling other ponies about what I do is a bad idea.”

“Then—”

“And yes, I do mind you asking about it.”

Silence hung over the alley as Peeler and Hooves both shifted in their places. Hooves broke the silence. “It wasn’t …” He paused at the look Ditzy shot him. “It wasn’t here in Ponyville, was it?”

“No.” Ditzy resumed looking at her hooves. “Elsewhere.”

The doctor placed his hoof over Ditzy’s. “They … Whoever they were, they didn’t believe you?”

Ditzy nodded.

“Well, sometimes, all you can do with the past is learn from it and move on. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“And what have you learned from tonight? That I do believe you, Ditzy, and so does Constable Peeler.”

“Yeah …”

“So the next time something like this comes up …”

Ditzy smiled slightly as she looked up at Dr. Hooves. “I’ll ask one of you for help if I think it’s something too big for me to take care of myself.” She placed one hoof over one eye. “Promise.”

“No, no, no! None of that. I get enough of it from … Nevermind. Just a regular old promise is enough for me. What do you think, Constable? Is it good enough for you?”

“Well …” Peeler said. “I’m still not entirely comfortable with this. Leaving Ponyville’s safety in this matter to just one pony, no matter how competent he or she is—I don’t like it.”

“But she won’t be just one pony,” Hooves said. “I have a support network in my job, and I can see to it that Ditzy gets one as well.”

“Hmm …”

“And while I’m at it, I can talk my superiors into making you an official R.S.S. liaison. And when that happens, you will be paid enough to deal with this sort of thing.”

“Are you trying to bribe me, doctor?”

“See? With that attitude, you’re perfect for the job!”

Constable Peeler shook his head. “I really don’t see how you two can be so calm about this.”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Ditzy said, smiling. “During this whole conversation, Xanthorgh the Flayer has been picking sharviikas off all our brains! You should start feeling the effects any second now, Constable.”

She paused to let the words sink in. Just as Constable Peeler opened his mouth to reply, she continued, “Oh, sharviikas are parasites that live in ponies’ brains. They eat positive emotions and leave you feeling constantly irritated. So old Xanthorgh takes his claws and jabs them into your brain and just starts rooting around—”

“Blaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuurgh!” Peeler’s vocalization was somewhere between a cry of terror and a shudder of disgust. He bolted upright and fled the alley, shaking his head violently as he ran.

Dr. Hooves watched the fleeing Constable for a few seconds, then turned back to Ditzy. “That was mean,” he said.

“Huh,” Ditzy said. “I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known he’d react that badly.”

“And how did you come up with that bit about brain parasites? Really …”

“I … uh … made up a lot less of that than you think.”

Hooves stared at her. She continued, “Sharviikas are real. Xanthorgh the Flayer is real, and one of his emanations is right here in Ponyville. But Constable Peeler didn’t have any sharviikas for Xanthorgh to pick off.”

“But …”

“You know, I’ve had Xanthorgh pick parasites off my brain plenty of times. It’s perfectly safe. All you feel is a bit of tingling, and after that an overwhelming calmness and a bit of sleepiness.”

Dr. Hooves opened his mouth to speak, paused, and shut it. He repeated this several times before he found his tongue. “You give me your solemn word that what Xanthorgh just did to my brain is one hundred percent safe?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well,” the doctor said, rising to his hooves. “I’ve seen many strange things in my official duties. And what I’ve learned tonight, certainly ranks in the top five. Good night, Ditzy Doo. I need to go write a letter.”

He trotted a few paces, unlocked the door of the clock shop, and stepped inside.

Ditzy looked at the shop’s door for a few seconds, then her gaze traveled up to the sign. “Oooooooooohhhhhhhh,” she said.

She turned and flew home.

Author's Note

I love it when a plan comes together.

A guy was nice enough to illustrate a scene from this chapter. Here it is on his tumblr. (Backup copy on imgur.)

Postlude: Morning Sixty-seven

dear mom and dad,

great news! i got a promotion at work! it’s a new position, something really cutting-edge. and somepony very high up in weather patrol thought i would be a good fit.

what stinks is that it’s so cutting-edge, i can’t say anything about it. i can’t even tell you what i’ll be doing! oh well. i’m just happy to have a job where i get paid to use my particular TALENTS.

but this means i have to go to canterlot for training. a lot of training. maybe even… a canterLOT of training? but seriously, it’s a lot. i’m leaving in three weeks. it lasts six months. i don’t know if i’ll be able to write you while i’m there.

how’s the cloudscaping going? and that cookbook you’re working on? give captain flint a cracker for me.

love,
dd

p.s. hey mom. a little bird told me that dad earned a silver laurel! at the battle of sanbox grotto, i think they said. is that true? why didn’t i hear about that sooner? i know dad doesn’t like to talk about some of what happened downrange. but if you know anything, i want to know it too!

Family and friends:

Not coming back to Ponyville. Don't worry, will send money soon.

Applejack

dear carrot top,

i’m sure by now you’ve noticed your new fridge. if not: check it out, you’ve got a new fridge! you’re welcome.

yes, it’s kind of my fault that your old fridge shuffled off the mortal coil. i couldn’t tell written script why, but i can tell you. it’s all mixed up in something i’ve been keeping secret for a long time. and i guess i should have told you about THAT years ago.

i’ll tell you at our lunch next week. we’ll have it at my apartment.

friends forever,
ditzy doo

[The following is translated from Faelic. -eds]

Nuada, King of all Cervids, Lord of the Mounds, Protector of Danu’s People, and possessor of other titles too numerous to list,

Of late, communication between our courts has been less than ideal. We do not write this to assign blame, for it has been to the detriment of both of us.

First of all, had you told us what foe you feared—and feared enough to mass all your armies, as you so recently did—we could have sent some ponies to your aid. You know yourself how strong ponykind can be. Sometimes they even surprise us! One pony, just recently appointed an agent of the Crowns, singlehoofedly thwarted an attempted invasion by Ystravilim, the one you call the Morrígan. We would not believe it, either, had we not seen it ourselves.

Second, if your house and ours were speaking as they ought, we would have learned sooner of a deplorable practice your people are committing. Some among your citizens—none less than the youths of your noblest houses—have made a sport of assaulting foreigners who enter the Mounds. This will not continue. That is, unless you wish for the stars to fall on your kingdom and burn it to cinders.

We are sure you will agree with us that communication is of the utmost importance. Don’t be a stranger!

May the blessings of Harmony be upon you,

Her Royal Highness, Luna, by the Will and Forbearance of Equestria Princess, Night-Sovereign, Moon-Guide, Chancellor of Horslund, Commander-in-Chief of Pegasellas, Queen of Terrelicorno, Defender of Harmony, Protector of the Realm of Dreams, Guardian of den Fjerde Væg, Bearer of the Spear of Nebuloso, Bane of Discord, of Atl, of Tirek, of the Bronze Crown, of the Smooze, and of the Ancients of Mu, Sovereign of the Draconic Order of Merit, First Degree of the Zebrican Order of Valor, etc.

Postlude: Morning Sixty-seven

On a normal morning, Dr. Time Turner Hooves would use the “snooze” button on his alarm clock at least twice before rising from bed. His abilities gave him the unique opportunity to arrive on time to work every morning while still sleeping in as late as he wished. Rare was the morning that he didn’t take that opportunity.

This morning, however, he was roused by a certain pegasus bouncing on his bed.

“Time Turner! Time Turner!” Ditzy Doo shouted with each leap. “Get up get up get up!”

He groaned and pulled the bedsheets over his head. “It’s too early to be this cheerful,” he mumbled.

If Ditzy understood his mumblings, she acted like she didn’t. “Come on, you gotta get up! There’s something you’ll really wanna see!”

“What I really want to see right now is this pillow.”

“It’s a huge rift in the eleventh dimension, right over Ponyville, you sleepyhead!”

The sheets flew off the bed, and Time Turner bolted upright. “I’m awake! Where is it?!”

Ditzy stopped hopping and pointed. “You can see it from the living room window. I set up the—”

Time Turner dashed into the living room. Next to the window, the Scanner 2.0 was already mounted on its tripod and pointed to the sky. He slipped the eyepiece on and gasped. With his naked eyes, the patch of sky had appeared completely nondescript. However, with the scanner, it was a riot of swirling blue, red, and green blotches—a false-colored approximation of what Ditzy Doo could see naturally. He switched the scanner to pick up a different range of wavelengths, and he saw a completely different but equally dizzying pattern.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Ditzy said. Time Turner hadn’t noticed her approach.

“So, what do we need to do?” he said. “Set up a perimeter to keep everypony a safe distance away?”

“Uh, no.”

Time Turner pushed the eyepiece up, onto his forehead. “So our first priority is sealing the rift ourselves, then? How do we do that?”

Ditzy furrowed her eyebrows. “Actually, no, we don’t.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Sit here and look at it.” When Time Turner gave her a confused look, Ditzy continued. “These rifts are completely harmless, and they reseal themselves after an hour or two.”

“You mean this isn’t an emergency?”

“Nope!”

“Then why the heck did you wake me up so early for this?”

“Because it’s pretty.” Smiling, Ditzy reached over and slid the eyepiece down, back over Time Turner’s eyes.

His rear slumped to the ground. Slowly, a smile formed on his face. “Yes,” he said. “It really is quite pretty.”

They sat and looked in silence for a few minutes. Then, Time Turner furrowed his brow and placed a hoof on his chin.

“You look like you’re thinking hard about something,” Ditzy said. “Are you thinking the same thing I’m thinking?”

“Probably not.” He pushed the eyepiece back up to his forehead. “What are you thinking?”

Ditzy looked back out the window. “Well, it’s just, I’m reminded of the morning that this—you and me, all of this—started. I’m wondering how things could have turned out differently. What if I had turned off my radio sooner?”

“Yeah, not what I was thinking at all. I was thinking, Did I lock my doors and windows last night? And the answer is yes, yes I did. Ditzy, how did you get into my apartment?”

Author's Note

Thank you all for reading my songfic about Derpy emptying Carrot Top’s fridge.

———

All the thanks in the world to my prereaders, without whom this story would have been a thundering mountain of nonsense:

Japanese Teeth
Sessalisk
Sereg
Kuroi Tsubasa Tenshi
CDRW
Clever Pun
Connelly
Justanotherbrony

Japanese Teeth and Sessalisk deserve special mention, because some comments they made on my very first chapters prompted me to revamp everything. I initially conceived Alarm Clock as a series of vignettes that didn’t really lead anywhere. J-teeth and the ’Lisk made me reconsider that approach, and whip my scenes into something with an actual plot.

I also want to thank Perpetual Lurker. He had a huge impact on this story without doing any prereading—in fact, I don’t know if he’s read this at all. But he posted some very insightful arguments over on the TV Tropes forum about the disconnect between the commonly-accepted fanon (particularly the fanon that’s accrued around Derpy) and what the show actually depicts. Even though he wasn’t specifically talking to me, his reality check was a huge influence on my interpretation of Ditzy.

Oh. That song that haunted Ditzy for this whole fanfic? It’s “Alarm Clock” by The W’s. Listen to it here if you want to lose all respect you ever had for me.

———

Ditzy Doo and Doctor Hooves will return...

Prelude: Cloud and Proud

“You look like you’re thinking hard about something. Are you thinking the same thing I’m thinking?”

“Probably not. What are you thinking?”

“Well, it’s just, I’m reminded of the morning that this—you and me, all of this—started. I’m wondering how things could have turned out differently. What if I had turned off my radio sooner?”

Alarm Clock

On a normal morning, Ditzy Doo would fully awaken three seconds after her alarm clock radio sounded. On a normal morning, she would immediately shut the radio off and prepare for the coming day in silence. On a normal morning, she would hear no more than eight seconds of whichever chart-topping pop song the morning show DJs had selected.

This morning, Ditzy stayed her hoof. Well, she thought, there’s a song I haven’t heard in years.

“It’s just an average daaaaaay
and nothing really stands out!
I’m just skating on the same route!”

The singer apparently couldn’t decide whether to sing like a punk or a crooner, so he split the difference. Behind him, the band’s horn section played a peppery counter-melody over an electric harp rhythm emphasizing the off-beat.

“I’m feeling fiiiiiiiine,
got nothing to complain ’bout!
I’m on my way,
it’s just an average day!”

Ditzy trotted into her bathroom as the song continued. Just as she finished washing her face, the song ended, and the morning show DJs chimed in.

“What the hay is this? Hey, Two Tone, did KTRT turn into an oldies station while I wasn’t looking?”

“Well, that depends, Vinyl. I recall that song playing on the radio when we were both in high school. So if that qualifies as an ‘oldie,’ what does that say about us?”

Ditzy trotted back into her room.

“It means you were born old, you hips—”

She shut off the radio, then turned to look out her window. The horizon was growing lighter, but the sun hid behind heavy clouds—and behind a thick stream of anti-photons pouring from the eleventh-dimensional rift in the sky.

Inside the rift was a riot of colors and anti-colors. Light, darkness, anti-darkness, and maxin-light all swirled together like puddles of luminescent ink. On the eastern edge, a pink-beige spiral transformed into a brilliantly transparent green-magenta, and then again into a dark, glistening plum-purple. On the northern edge, a gray-yellow blob pushed against a brown—with undercurrents of brown—one. Ditzy could almost imagine the two blobs were arguing. On the zwostern edge, a tendril of obsidian uncurled, then collapsed on itself as an adjacent blob of concentric yellows and whites exploded in a burst of sour pinks.

“Pity no one else in Ponyville will see this,” Ditzy said.

Before her eyes, the rift grew smaller as the eleventh dimension rapidly mended itself.

The fabric of space is a lot more resilient than most ponies would think, Ditzy thought.Aloud, she continued, “I wonder how long it will take us to clear up all those clouds to—”

A song echoed in Ditzy’s head, interrupting her monologue—a decade-old melody with lyrics about what an average day it was. She shook her head. “Darn it! Stupid song.”

She snorted as she trotted into the kitchen to make breakfast.

Prelude: Cloud and Proud

As she placed her bowl of oatmeal on the table, Ditzy bumped one of its legs. One side of the table lifted and slammed back down. Ditzy’s eyes widened, not at the oatmeal sloshing out of its bowl, but at the the salt and pepper shakers. They tipped, teetered, and fell on their side, spilling their condiments across the table’s surface.

Ditzy tensed as a shadow fell across the table, and she heard the clicking of far too many claws on the tile floor behind her. The instinctive, animal portion of Ditzy’s brain was screaming at her to flee—or to deliver a solid kick to the creature with her rear legs—but its urgings were easy enough to ignore. Instead, forcing casualness, she grasped the salt shaker in her mouth. With her eyes closed, she jerked her head to the side. The angle and speed were just right: salt crystals flew from the shaker, over her right shoulder. A snort sounded behind her, then the shadow disappeared.

As the kitchen fell silent, Ditzy relaxed. She set the salt shaker down and grabbed a rag to wipe up the mess on the table. Once the table was clean again, she lowered her muzzle into the oatmeal bowl. A few mouthfuls later, she bolted back upright. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, spewing specks of breakfast with every word. “This oatmeal is perfect!” And indeed it was: not too hot, not too cold, and with just the right amount of cinnamon.

In spite of a millennium of harmony between the three pony tribes, there remained a few subjects on which they could never see eye-to-eye. Biology conspired to give each a unique insight into some very particular subjects, which they could never properly explain to members of the other tribes. But that didn't stop ponies from trying. Unicorns would exposit at length about the finer points of the most esoteric spells they could cast. Earth ponies would brag about the feats of strength and endurance they performed regularly in their jobs.

Pegasi were the exception. Their contributions to intertribal understanding were mostly accidental. For example, the average pegasus would complain about any given weather management project being too easy for her. But when anypony else—especially an earth pony or unicorn—described weather patrol as an easy career, that same pegasus would answer by laughing her rump off. Naturally, she would refuse to explain what she found so funny.

Thanks to the doozy of a thunderstorm the previous night, this day’s sky-clearing operation was nothing to sneeze at. And Ditzy was an average pegasus in at least one regard. After several hours, her flight muscles began to burn, but she said nothing and pressed on. Eventually the pain faded into a dull ache, and her hind legs began to hurt as well. There was no end to the cloud-bucking in sight. Without a word to her coworkers, Ditzy decided she needed a break.

She alighted on a small raincloud. First, she took a few minutes to stretch her legs. Then she examined her wings, squinting through the golden glow to ensure that all her feathers were in place.

That finished, she examined the cloud beneath her hooves. It was a C-22 Rainbearing, “cumulonimbus” model 2.17, and it was uncharacteristically soft. Wow, she thought, prancing in place and noting how deep her hooves sank. This would make a really nice bed. Indeed, the cloud bed she currently owned—a C-16 Ornamental, “cirrus” model 1.13—was beginning to wear a bit thin. This raincloud would be a fine replacement.

Aloud but under her breath, she added, “I can make it home and back in just a few minutes. I bet nopony will even notice I’m gone.”

Ditzy swooped to the side of the cloud and began pushing, but it only moved a few feet before stopping suddenly. Looking up, she met the eyes of a purple pegasus who had perched on the purloined cumulonimbus. Her mane looked like a flock of angry seagulls, her wings were flared threateningly, and her glare was directed squarely at Ditzy.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Cloudchaser asked.

“Um ...”

“Well then quit twiddling your hooves and get back to work!” Cloudchaser lifted off and slowly spun, sharing her glare with all the pegasi who had stopped working to watch her outburst. “That goes for all of you!”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash’s sandpapery voice was every bit as distinct as the multi-hued, psychedelic aura cast by her wings. She separated from the crowd of pegasus onlookers and flew right up to Cloudchaser. “Who died and put you in charge?”

Everypony else’s attention was now on the two arguing pegasi. This would be a perfect distraction, Ditzy thought. “No, no,” she said, “slipping away myself isn’t a good idea now.” I’ll just have to use a Krasnicker tube.

“I’ve got places to be this afternoon, Rainbow Dash,” Cloudchaser said. “I don’t want to be late because a bunch of lollygaggers couldn’t get these skies cleared in time!”

Ditzy scanned the sky. Ponyville had a surplus of non-simple, extra-dimensional space-time connections. However, she needed one that led back to her home and looked at least relatively stable. She found a promising candidate and pushed her cloud towards it.

“For your information,” Dash said, “our sector is ahead of schedule. If you’re so worried about getting this job finished on time, why don’t you quit riding our rumps and go buck some clouds in your own sector!”

Ditzy stopped at the Krasnicker tube’s mouth. Traveling through it herself, a dangerous idea even under the best circumstances, was out of the question for a job this trivial. On the other hoof, shoving the cloud itself through was a perfectly reasonable course of action. Ditzy turned away from the cloud and prepared to buck it.

From this angle, she could see Cloudchaser flying away, shouting at Dash as she left: “Fine! But there will be Tartarus to pay if you mules hold the rest of us up!”

Ditzy kicked. She glanced back to confirm that she had used just enough force to send the raincloud traveling down the tube without damaging either. Turning forward, she found Rainbow Dash’s face, only a few feet away from her own.

Oh hailstones! Ditzy thought. How much did she see?

“Nice buck, Derpy!” Dash said. “No debris or anything!” She extended a foreleg and placed it on Ditzy’s shoulder as she continued, “Don’t let that featherbrain get you down. Keep up the good work, and you’ll be almost as awesome as me!”

Dash then darted higher and addressed all of the gathered pegasi. “Western sector! You heard what Cloudchaser said. Those snobs in the southern sector think we can’t pull our own weight! Well, I plan to prove them wrong, so who’s with me?”

The crowd roared its approval, and Ditzy couldn’t help but cheer along with them.

“I’ll make you all a deal,” Dash continued. “When we finish clearing our skies before any of the other sectors do, we’ll all go out for drinks after. The first round’s on me!”

The crowd cheered even louder.

Ditzy returned to sky-clearing with renewed vigor, humming to herself. But as she went, her song slowly changed. It took a few minutes to notice she was humming the song from that morning. “Darn it! Stupid song, get out of my head!”

That evening, when Ditzy made it halfway through washing up before realizing that something was missing from her apartment, she blamed it on the drinks.

A quick scan of all her rooms and closets confirmed that her cumulonimbus—her would-be new bed—was nowhere to be seen. She circled the outside of the apartment building and saw no trace of it. She even knocked on all her neighbors’ doors to ask about stray storm clouds materializing in their apartments: no dice.

Weird, Ditzy thought, as she lay down to sleep in her old cloud bed. If that Krasnicker tube didn’t lead here, then where did it lead?

Author's Note

I heavily edited this chapter since originally publishing it. The edited version went live on 2 February 2015.

For historical purposes, I've preserved the original version on Gdocs, here.

Fae and Loathing in Ponyville (Morning One)

For the second morning, Ditzy woke to jaunty brass notes and decided to leave the radio playing.

“I’m feeling fiiiiiiiine,
got nothing to complain ’bout!
I’m on my way,
it’s just an average day!”

I haven’t heard this song in a decade, she thought. “Then suddenly it gets played two mornings in a row,” she said. “What are the odds?”

“I turn on the ray-ay-di-o,
to see what’s on,
but to my surprise ...”

She ignored the song as she entered her bathroom and washed up. The song ended while she was brushing her teeth.

“What the hay is this? Hey, Two Tone, did KTRT turn into an oldies station while I wasn’t looking?”

Way to go, ladies, Ditzy thought. you’re playing yesterday’s tape.

“Well, that depends, Vinyl.”

“Unless …” Ditzy’s eyes widened. She flew back into her bedroom, toothbrush still in her mouth, and crashed into the far wall.

“I recall that song playing on the radio when we were both in high school.”

I’m stuck in a time loop! she thought. A glance around the room only confirmed the sinister hypothesis. The walls: paneled and undecorated, exactly the same as yesterday. The ceiling: painted beige with an unadorned lamp, exactly the same as yesterday. The cloud bed: … probably exactly the same as yesterday. The floor: definitely the same shag carpet as yesterday.

Clearly, those could only be explained by a time loop.

I’m doomed. Ditzy’s breathing became faster and shallower as her mind raced. Doomed to keep reliving the same twenty-four hours until my brain explodes from omniscience. Nothing I do will have any lasting effect. I can steal anything, seduce anypony, or engage in wanton property destruction ... without any consequences!

She put her hooves to her temples and shouted, “I can’t handle this kind of power!”

“So if that qualifies as an ‘oldie,’ what does that say about us?”

Her head felt light, and her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Power and me mix like … like oil and me! I couldn’t handle that job in Boxy Brown’s Heavy Freight! I barely survived my term as W.W.U. Bird Migration Specialist! And those were small fry compared to this! I’ll go mad with power just before I go mad with insanity! No mortal should have this—

Out of the corner of her eye, Ditzy glimpsed her window, and her careening train of thought screeched to a halt. “Wait a sec …”

Ditzy pressed her face to the windowpane as she looked out. The scene outside was different. Yesterday, the sky had been marked by heavy clouds and a rift in the fabric of space; this morning the sky was clear, save for a few songbirds. Yesterday, the street in front of the apartment was empty; today, one of the fia sídhe stood next to Ditzy’s mailbox, eating a muffin. Yesterday, the grass of nearby lawns had been long and unkempt; today, the lawns were all neatly cut and trimmed.

“It means you were born old, you hipster.”

With a sigh, Ditzy relaxed and trotted back into the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth.

“And you drink the blood of one-hit-wonders to maintain your youth, I presume.”

“Gasp! You know too much!”

Morning One: Fae and Loathing in Ponyville

When Ditzy stepped out the front door five minutes later, the fia was still waiting by the mailbox. The buck’s presence was not a complete shock—after all, the apartment was built on one of their old trails. Nevertheless, the Fair Folk only visited sporadically over the past few years.

The silver trim on his leather barding gleamed brightly in the dawn sun. His immaculate white cape fluttered in a breeze that Ditzy couldn’t feel. His antlers glowed silver-blue as he levitated the muffin to take another bite.

Ditzy fluttered over and landed next to him, startling him into dropping what was left of the muffin. “Hail, fair mare of the blessed eyes!” he proclaimed, bowing briefly.

Blushing slightly, Ditzy answered, “Well met, thou of the Court of Danann. For what occasion ... dost thou grace our abode with thy fair presence?”

“I am Abhean, son of Bec-Felmas. You recall how our folk earned our home by defeating the Fur Bolg on the Plain of Pillars.”

“Verily.”

“Of late, the Fur Bolg have grumbled at our presence and spoken of driving us out of the land, back over the ocean. A fortnight ago, the Spear of Lug went missing from the royal armory, and now, rumor has it that Eochaid mac Eirc himself possesses the Spear.”

“Huh,” Ditzy said.

Am I supposed to know who that is? Ditzy thought. Why can’t the fia just write me a letter for once? Then I could do my research before answering.

“Forsooth,” Abhean said, “if the Spear is in the hoof of the King of the Fur Bolg, then we cannot prevail against them in battle.”

“Dost thou seekest counsel, or soothsaying?”

Ditzy cringed slightly at the words she had just spoken. “Seekest?” Really? she thought. I’m horribly out of practice. He probably thinks I sound like an—

“Of counsel,” Abhean answered, “King Nuada possesses a surfeit. It is your vision he lacks. With one eye, you see Mag Mell, and with the other, Tech Duinn. If you could be so kind, what can you tell me of our predicament?”

Ditzy rolled her eyes—thanks to her condition, she could roll her eyes as much as she wished, and nopony ever noticed. Then she assumed the expected sooth-saying stance: her rump on the ground, her back upright, and her forehooves on either side of her head.

In theory, Ditzy invoked her visions by clearing her mind and allowing the aether to speak through her.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

In practice, Ditzy hummed aloud for a full minute and then said the first words that came to her mind. Or, as was the case this morning, she sang them. The words were not her own, however:

“Woke up this morning, to the sound,
of an alarm clock, ringing in my ear.”

Ditzy swayed from side to side, slightly at first, but picking up speed and intensity as she continued.

“I rubbed my eyes,
glanced at the clock,
hit my roommate Jay,
in the head with a sock.
Rolled out of bed,
got to my hooves
and started to move!”

The urge to move became too strong to ignore. Ditzy leaped, flapped her wings, and danced in mid-air, making up what she lacked in grace with sheer energy. She continued to sing:

“Da dada-da dada-da da-da-da
daaa daaa daaaa!
It’s just an average daaaaaay
and nothing really stands out!
I’m just skating on the same route!
I’m feeling fiiiiiiiine,
got nothing to complain ’bout!
I’m on my way,
it’s just an av—”

Ditzy stopped singing as she glanced at the buck. He was staring at her, completely slack-jawed. She promptly landed and asked “Um, is something wrong?”

A single tear trickled down Abhean’s cheek, and the corners of his mouth turned upward. “Surely, the waters of Connla’s Well flow in your veins,” he said, his tone bordering on reverence.

“Uh, thankest thou?” This prompted another kick from Ditzy’s mental linguist.

Abhean opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by another speaker: “Talking to yourself again, Derpy?”

Ditzy turned. This new speaker resembled nothing less than the equine personification of candy. Her coat was a creamy nougat, and her mane was a delectable combination of violet and pink. Even her cutie mark was a trio of confections in colorful wrappers. However, in spite of her appearance, Bon Bon’s voice was anything but sweet. “Or are you practicing for your one-mare show? Singing, dancing, Reneighssance Faire roleplaying?”

“Ummmmmm, maybe?” Ditzy answered.

She noticed a third pony was present: a brown stallion, behind Bon Bon. He stared directly at Ditzy. He seemed to be in no hurry to say anything, so Ditzy decided he could wait.

Forcing a blank expression onto her face, she turned back to Bon Bon and said, “Why? Afraid I’ll put you out of a job, Sweetie Drops?”

At this, Bon Bon twitched slightly, before tossing her mane and trotting away. “In your dreams,” she said with a snort.

The stallion remained behind, but continued to refrain from speaking. He simply stared at Ditzy, with an expression on his face that—

“That mare wearies me with her affronts to your honor.”

Abhean’s words drew Ditzy’s attention back to him. He was looking in Bon Bon’s direction. His antlers glowed once more as he levitated a sword—gleaming brighter than his armor—up to face level. He turned to Ditzy and smiled. “Shall I set her head upon a pike, milady?”

Under her breath, Ditzy said, “Oh, Tartarus.” This is why I don’t talk to the fia more often, she thought.

To Abhean, Ditzy said, “Oh, thou needest not trouble thyself on our account. Wethinks our honor can withstandeth a little ribbing. Surely thou agreeth?” She smiled.

A part of Ditzy’s mind berated her for butchering Early Modern Equine so cruelly. The rest of her mind told that first part to stuff it until after she could convince Abhean not to butcher a fellow pony.

“Nay,” the fia said, “’twould be my pleasure to grant you this boon. Snicker-snack!”

“We insist that thou stay thine hoof, Abhean, son of Bec-Felmas!” Ditzy stomped for emphasis. “Thy blade is a surpassing fair weapon, and Sweetie Drops’ blood … Sweetie Drops’s? … ’Twould be darn shameful to befoul thy sword with the blood of that candy-flanked mare!”

Abhean furrowed his brows and looked into Ditzy’s eyes. Forcing her pupils to align, she narrowed her eyes and met his gaze. A moment of silence passed.

Abhean was the first to blink. He averted his eyes as he sheathed his sword. Then he bowed. “When my brethren spoke of your wisdom, they did not speak highly enough. I shall bear your song back to the court, where it shall be a light unto our path.” He took Ditzy’s hoof and kissed it three times.

He rose. Then he turned away, twirling on his hooves, with his cape swirling and billowing about him.

Why do they all do that? Ditzy thought.

Abhean looked over his shoulder to give his parting words. “Oh Mare of the Blessed Eyes, may the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back, and may you reach the shores of Mag Mell a full hour before the Gan Ceann know you’re dead.”

He bounded away, down the fia-path.

Hmm ... Ditzy thought, as she watched him leave. That path seems to have ... shifted. This warrants investigation. Make certain that nopony else is in danger from ... Oh, right, I’m still not alone.

Ditzy could feel the brown stallion’s gaze on the back of her head. She turned and got her first good look at the silent watchpony. There was not much to see: he was an earth pony, and an aggressively drab one. Ditzy had seen his spiked manestyle on hundreds of other stallions. His face was one that she could have walked past every week without remembering. Even his hourglass cutie mark looked vaguely familiar. His only distinguishing feature was the piercing stare he directed at Ditzy.

Ditzy stepped towards him. He did not step away, nor did he step closer. “Um, hi?” she said.

The stallion yelped in reply, then galloped down the street.

Ditzy arched her eyebrows, then shrugged and turned back to the fia-trail. “I wonder if I can investigate this and still make it to weather patrol on time,” she said. Feh, they can manage without me, she thought. Today’s a good day to take off.

She trotted down the trail, into the sídhe.

Ditzy had not traveled a hundred feet down the trail before the buildings of Ponyville disappeared completely from sight. Thick forest obscured all sides, where thatch-roofed pony houses would have stood if this were a path through normal space. There were ashes, elms, yews, and several trees that Ditzy couldn’t name—trees that didn’t naturally grow anywhere near Ponyville, not even in the depths of the Everfree Forest. Luminescent curtains of blue moss hung from every branch. Those were certainly not native to Equestria.

She dared not take to the sky, for fear of losing the path, but she looked skyward as she trotted. Between the branches of the trees, she could see glittering silver clouds and twinkling stars in the cerulean mid-morning sky. A gust of wind rustled the branches and carried strange scents to her nose—reminiscent of oregano, cumin, chili peppers, and an underlying scent which Ditzy hadn’t encountered since her last foray into the sídhe: roasting meat.

The sound of woodwinds and strings startled her. They played a high, haunting melody, and they sounded blessedly far away. A hunting party? Ditzy thought. At this hour? She cleared her voice and sang, her voice a warbly alto:

“Theeeeeeeere
will be no hunting season
this yeeeaaar.
All the hunters
have been poisoned
by an old bear.”

If those hunters get any closer, Ditzy thought, I’m heading back. Wait, what’s that?

Up ahead, the path ran into a clearing, up to the door of a building. In fact, it was a normal, wooden, pony-built structure, not one of those caves or magically altered trees that the fia saw fit to dwell in.

Although, for a pony-built structure, it was oddly small. And oddly raised off the ground on wooden legs. And oddly smelling.

Wait, Ditzy thought. I’ve been here before. And that’s not a house for ponies …

The woodwinds and strings faded to silence as Ditzy approached the building. She ascended the walkway, ducked inside the door, and was greeted by the startled clucking of the building’s residents: a dozen or so chickens.

“Pardon me, ladies,” Ditzy said.

She trotted to the opposite end of the henhouse and stuck her head out the door there. She was greeted by the well-trimmed backyard of a good-sized cottage, crowded with more animals than she’d ever seen in one place before. This was Fluttershy’s residence.

In fact, Fluttershy was right in the center of all those animals. Somewhat surprisingly, Rainbow Dash was at her side. Even more surprisingly, the pegasi were singing a duet.

… Singing a duet? Ditzy thought. Singing a duet! She retreated back into the henhouse as quickly as she could, blushing furiously for having almost eavesdropped on the two ponies’ courtship. Well, she assumed it was courtship. She hadn’t actually made out any of the song’s words, which was probably for the best, considering how direct Dash could be.

Focus, focus! Ditzy thought.

“I didn’t come here to snoop on anypony’s love life,” she said. “I came to see how the fia-trail has shifted.”

And I found that it now runs through Fluttershy’s back yard. That’s ... pretty good, actually. She’s the sort that the fia aren’t likely to bother. And if they do give her trouble, she can easily—

“Um, pardon me.”

The voice, soft and quiet as it was, still startled Ditzy. “Daaaaaaaaaaah!” she yelled, before flailing and landing on her back. Opening her eyes, she found herself looking directly at the upside-down face of one very concerned yellow pegasus.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ditzy Doo, I didn’t mean to scare you, are you alright?”

Ditzy waved a forehoof. “Meh, don’t worry about me, I’m fine!”

“Oh, that’s good.” Fluttershy traced a circle on the floor with one of her forehooves. “I was worried that you were here because you … well … you know …”

“Oh no, nononono. That would just be weird and awkward, hehe.”

“Ditzy, this is weird and awkward.”

“You got me there.”

Fluttershy sat down and turned her head slightly away. “Anyway, since that’s not why you’re here, I was, um, wondering, if you don’t mind telling me ... what are you doing in my henhouse?”

Ditzy considered her words carefully. Her answer needed to be plausible. It couldn’t contain any falsehoods that might hurt Fluttershy or her friends in the long run, but it also couldn’t contain any truths that might snap her mind like a brittle twig.

Ditzy made a game effort to meet Fluttershy’s eyes, and spoke. “I dunno.”

Author's Note

I heavily edited this chapter since originally publishing it. The edited version went live on 2 February 2015.

For historical purposes, I've preserved the original version on Gdocs, here.

The Filly with the Moon in Her Head (The Morning After the World's Last Night)

“Alright, ladies,” Rainbow Dash said. Dressed in her black suit and tie, she moved with obvious stiffness as she passed sheets of paper to each member of the band. “A bit late, but I have our set list for this show. Any questions about it?”

Ditzy Doo’s stomach sank as she looked over the list. I don’t recognize half of these songs, she thought, and I can’t play the ones I do recognize.

She looked around the dressing room at her bandmates, hoping to find somepony else who shared her unease. Most of them were otherwise occupied. Cloudchaser was fiddling with the reed on her alto saxophone. Carrot Top adjusted her tie then smiled at Dinky Doo, who telekinetically twirled five drumsticks in the air. Only Twilight Sparkle met Ditzy’s gaze, and only briefly. She shrugged, then went back to polishing her already spotless-trumpet.

Dash paced as she continued, “There’s gonna be record industry big shots in the audience, and you know how bad their attention spans are. Either we wow them with our first two songs, or we lose them forever. So that’s why I put ‘Mare from Iponyma’ and ‘Average Day’ first in our set.”

Ditzy looked back at the list, which had somehow unfurled like a scroll to reveal even more songs, whose names she couldn’t even read.

Dash adjusted the strap holding her electric harp to her chest. “So! Derpy, Twilight, Cloudchaser, and Derpy, we’re all counting on you to bring your A-game to your horn solos. Especially you, Derpy.”

Ditzy gulped and looked down at the tenor saxophone in her forehooves. Is this thing even in tune? she thought. Why, oh why did I miss every single practice session? In fact, how did I miss every single practice session?

“Hey, ladies!” Fluttershy said. She stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard under her wing. “They’re ready for you on stage. Chop chop!”

The Morning After the World’s Last Night: The Filly with the Moon in Her Head
or
The Bubblemaker’s Dream
or
A Message from Another Time
or
Eternal Snarkness
or
Back in the Saddlebag
or
Muffindependence Day
or
Fridge Benefits
or
I Hope You Liked Memento

Ditzy trotted down the street, back to her house. She continued offering her unique greeting to anypony who spoke to her or gawked at her, but fewer ponies were surprised to see her now. Word had apparently traveled quickly. Ditzy’s bag of money was somewhat lighter than before, and her bag of muffins was much lighter. Still, her gait was fast, and her spirits were high.

What a morning! she thought. She glanced at the clock tower. I got more done before eight than most ponies get done by … ten-thirty, at least. Wait a second … She looked again at the clock. “Ohmigosh I’m gonna be late!”

She took to the air and flew for weather patrol’s meeting cloud with all possible haste.

She landed on the cloud with all possible haste, tripping and rolling to a stop. After her head stopped spinning, she recognized two voices nearby.

The first was Cloudchaser. “What was that?”

The second was Rainbow Dash. “I said, I’m not asking you to stick around for months on end, just until I can find her replacement.”

“No, not that. I thought I heard something thump.”

Ditzy looked to every side but couldn’t find either of them. She looked up, and realized they were on the smaller cloud directly overhead.

“I didn’t hear it,” Dash said. “Anyway, if I speed up the process, it’ll take a week, two weeks at the most, to find a new weatherpony. Then another week to train them. Can you at least stick around that long?”

Cloudchaser groaned.

Dash continued, “Have you seen the schedule for this month? It’ll be bad enough doing that while we’re one pony short. But two ponies gone? I can’t ask the rest of the team to pull that kind of load!”

Ditzy poked her head through the cloud. “Two ponies gone?” she said. “Who’s leaving?”

Cloudchaser boggled at Ditzy. Dash, however, barely glanced at her. “You read about what happened to Derpy in the paper, right?” she said. “And I’m trying to show Cloudchaser that it’s a bad idea to—” With a sudden jerk, she looked straight at Ditzy, her mouth hanging open.

Ditzy wriggled forward, until her forelegs and wings were through the hole. “I’m not late, am I?”

Cloudchaser smiled. “Good to see you’re okay, Derpy. Rainbow Dash, I take it there’s no longer a problem with my resigning now?”

“Whaaaa … I guess?”

“Oh, you’re leaving, Cloudchaser?” Ditzy pulled her rear through the hole and stood up. “Hey, Dash, do you need somepony to cover for her? Like, this Wednesday, maybe?”

“Derpy, what the hay is going on? The news said—”

“Oh, that.” Ditzy patted Rainbow Dash’s head. “You can’t believe everything you read in the papers, Dashy.” She stepped back and looked around. “Hey, where’s the rest of the team? I brought muffins for everypony!”

“Alright!” Dash said. “Time to show ’em what we got!” She rushed out the door, and four of her bandmates followed, their instruments in tow. Ditzy, however, remained in place.

Fluttershy fixed her gaze on Ditzy. “Don’t keep them waiting, Derpy. You won’t like them when they’ve been waiting.”

Ditzy opened her mouth to protest, to state emphatically that no power in Equestria could make her get up on that stage, but her throat went dry. No sound came out.

She blinked, and suddenly bright, multicolored lights shone into her eyes from overhead. The wood floor creaked beneath her feet. Twilight and Cloudchaser jostled her from each side, and a single microphone stood in front of her.

Ditzy would have wondered how, exactly, she wound up on the stage, but a silver glint distracted her. In vain, she looked into the audience for the glint’s source. Thanks to the bright stage lights in her own eyes, and the dim lights on the rest of the theater, the audience was an indistinct mass of shadows.

She sighed and looked down at the floor, then noticed that her forelegs were completely bare. A glance at her own backside confirmed that she wasn’t wearing anything, and a glance around the stage confirmed that everypony else in the band wore matching black suits and ties. Oh, horsefeathers! she thought. How did I forget my suit? Why didn’t anypony tell me?

The stage lights cut out, plunging most of the band into darkness. Only Carrot Top and Dinky Doo remained in light as they launched into their pre-song banter.

“Mommy?” Dinky said, in the most cloyingly innocent voice she could muster.

“Yes, daughter?” Carrot Top answered, in the most patronizing tone she could muster.

“What does regret mean?” Dinky stood on her seat and leaned forward, and still she could barely see over the top of the drum kit.

“Well, daughter,” Carrot Top said, leaning against her bass, “the funny thing about regret is, that it’s better to regret something you have done, than to regret something you haven’t done. By the way, if you see your father this weekend—”

VERY WELL. THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH, THANK YOU.

Written Script stood in the front doorway of his house and scowled. “That is not our fridge.”

“It is now!” Ditzy declared, waving her hooves at the brand new refrigerator standing next to her. “And it’s even better than your old fridge! Look, look …” She opened the freezer door. “It’s got a built-in ice cube maker!” She opened the main door. “All the crisper drawers have separate, adjustable temperatures! And look at this space-saving design. The outer dimensions are exactly the same as your old fridge, but there’s so much more room in the interior! You might even say, it’s—”

“Ditzy. What happened to the old fridge?”

Ditzy solemnly held a hoof over her heart. “Your fridge was a true hero. He bravely gave his life in the defense of Equestria.” She stepped forward to place her hoof on Written Script’s shoulder. “His sacrifice was not in vain, and we will always—”

“Uuuuuuuurrrrrgh …” Written Script dropped his face into his hoof.

“I think I know what’ll cheer you up …” With her free forehoof, Ditzy waved a raspberry muffin in front of his nose.

“I don’t care any more. I don’t care!” He looked at Ditzy. “When Carrot gets back and wonders what the hay happened to the old fridge, I’m telling her to ask you. Got that?”

Ditzy nodded and continued waving the muffin in front of Written Script’s face.

He took the muffin. “Now help me get that fridge inside.”

THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE.

Ditzy felt and saw the voice more than she heard it. Every bone in her body rattled with its words. The audience and the theater building also shook—then they rippled, like an image on a waving tapestry.

At the center of the rippling, the silver gleam reappeared. This time, it persisted and grew larger. As it expanded, it gained patches so black that the shadows of the theater looked like a sunny afternoon in comparison.

DETSELLA RENOMBRADA MORNINGDEW, WE HAVE MUCH TO DISCUSS.

The shape continued growing, or perhaps it moved towards Ditzy. It was difficult to tell. On the one hoof, the figure was now large enough that Ditzy recognized it as the silhouette of a tall, slim pony. On the other hoof, as the pony walked towards Ditzy, the silver and black pattern did not move with her.

MISS MORNINGDEW? ARE YOU WELL?

However, the pattern was not strictly stationary. The pattern was, in fact, a mass of clockwork, all polished to a silvery shine. Some gears turned slowly, while others spun at dizzying velocities. And in the spaces between the pieces, the night sky was visible. It was a deeper and darker shade than Ditzy had ever seen before. The stars—clusters of cold pinpricks—only made the rest of the sky seem blacker by comparison.

Somepony’s mouth was open in a limp, mute gape.

MISS MORNINGDEW! SAY SOMETHING!

It dawned on Ditzy that the open mouth was hers. Even so, she didn’t see any point closing it.

The clockwork and the night sky filled her entire field of vision. Even when she looked down, she couldn’t see her own snout, just the endless expanse of gleaming metal and inky darkness. The wheels, pinions, axles, and more exotic pieces were oriented in every dimension—joining and intersecting each other in ways that defied Ditzy’s understanding. A mortal clockmaker would have suffered an aneurysm trying to decipher this mechanism.

And behind the clockwork, the stars were moving. They rearranged into lines and arcs. They were forming an image, and Ditzy could almost make out the subject …

Everything turned paper-yellow.

The silver gears and the black sky were completely gone. Sensations from Ditzy’s limbs flooded into her mind, which was slightly worrying; she hadn’t noticed when she had stopped feeling her limbs. Ditzy closed her mouth and realized something sticky was on her forehead.

“Fie! Truly, we ought to have expected something like that.”

Now that the voice lacked its bone-rattling, reality-shaking undertones, Ditzy could almost recognize it. She had heard that voice once or twice before, but she couldn’t remember where. In any case, the notepaper taped to her face was a much more pressing concern. She reached up, but another pony’s hoof stopped her.

“Nay,” the voice said. “First, we must find some means by which thou … by which you may look upon me without that happening again.”

Ditzy remembered who the voice belonged to. She dropped to a bow.

“Rise.”

Ditzy did so.

“Aha! Now, Miss Morningdew, you may uncover your eyes. But look upon me only through the mirror.”

A mare, walking in the street, stared as Ditzy approached. She opened her mouth, but Ditzy spoke before she could. “Morning, Minuette! Have a muffin!” She threw an apple muffin at Minuette.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it, Lemon Drop? Have a muffin!”

“Buon matin, Aloe and Lotus! Have some muffins!”

“Hi, Fluttershy. Would you like a muffin?”

“It’s great to be alive, Mr. and Mrs. Cake! Have some muffins!”

“Carpe diem, Pink—”

“Hiya, Derpy Doo!” Pinkie Pie interrupted. She pronked alongside Ditzy, easily keeping pace. “Do you have anything with sprinkles?”

Ditzy rooted through the bag. “No, but I have one with brown sugar. Here you go!”

Pinkie caught the muffin with her mouth and ate it in a single bite. “Thanks! Merry Muffin Monday, Derpy Doo!”

As Pinkie bounced away, Ditzy shook her head. She turned onto a different street and called out, “Morning, Alternating Current! Have a ohmigosh refrigerators are on sale?!” She abruptly halted outside the shop.

“Ditzy Doo?” Alternating Current said. “You’re …”

“Yes. Yes I am. I am shopping for a fridge! Would you like a muffin?”

Ditzy removed the notepaper from her face, crumpled it, and tossed it aside. Before her stood half a mirror—a twelve-feet-tall replica of the half that she left on that alien planet. Reflected in it, the other pony towered behind Ditzy. Her wings were folded at her side, her horn was held high, and her silver jewelry gleamed under the stage lights.

With the arrival of the Princess of the Night, the surroundings had also transformed. Aside from her and Ditzy, the theater was completely deserted. Every lamp in the house was brightly lit, banishing all darkness from sight—save for Luna’s coat.

Luna spoke. “Detsella Renombrada Morningdew, I have read a most interesting tale of your recent adventure. Now, I am curious to hear your account of those events.”

“Yes, Your Highness. But, one thing first?”

“And that is?”

“Can you just call me Ditzy Doo?”

Luna’s face remained impassive, but her voice softened slightly. “Yes. I suppose your full name is a bit of mouthful. Very well, Ditzy Doo, daughter of LaMonte Doo and Loop-de-Loop.”

Ditzy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “But I have to say, Your Highness, you’re the first pony I’ve met outside my family to pronounce ‘Detsella’ right on the first try. That’s impressive.”

“Ahem.”

“Oh, right. The story. Anyway …”

Ditzy stepped out of the bakery and found she was not alone. A small crowd had formed around the door while it was locked. She took a step forward, and they all stepped back. Some of of the ponies gulped or wore nervous expressions, and others looked confused or curious—but all of their eyes were focused on Ditzy. Still quite giddy from her breakfast, Ditzy’s first thought was not about the quickest way to escape the crowd. Her first thought was, What would Carrot Top do?

She set her bag on the ground, then sat on her haunches, raised her forehooves, and proclaimed to the crowd, “I am the Ghost of Muffins Past!”

All of the onlookers wore confused expressions.

“I have returned from the nether realms, bearing gifts! Guess what I have!”

The crowd was silent for several seconds before Sassaflash, in the back, spoke up. “Muffins?”

“Bingo! Got it in one. Have a muffin!” Ditzy pulled a bran muffin out of the bag and threw it directly at the mare. She reached into the bag and pulled out another. “Alright! Now who wants a banana nut muffin?” A few ponies raised hooves, and Ditzy threw the muffin at the nearest one. “Bam! Who wants an orange cranberry? Bam! Who wants a Morning Glory? Bam! This one’s got zucchini. Who wants it? Bam!”

By this point, everypony in the crowd either had a muffin or had walked away, shaking their heads as they went.

Ditzy again raised her forehooves. “Remember this day, everypony! Henceforth, it shall be known as Muffin Monday!”

“But today’s Thursday!” Sassaflash retorted.

“Henceforth,” Ditzy continued, “you shall observe Muffin Monday on the first Thursday of every August! You shall commemorate it … with a minute of solemn silence for reflection on the fragility of life. And then, muffins!”

“Your holiday doesn’t make any sense!”

Ditzy lifted into the air. “Farewell, my brothers and sisters! May the blessings of Muffin Monday be upon you all!” She took off down the street with her bag—still mostly full—in tow.

“... When I looked at the Town Hall blueprints, I thought I recognized the basic design. The same proportions as one of the old, forbidden temples.”

Ditzy and Princess Luna were no longer in a theater. They stood on lush turfgrass, surrounded by meticulously trimmed hedges. A dim childhood memory told Ditzy that this was the Canterlot Royal Garden. The half-mirror, at least, remained the same.

She continued, “That was when I suspected that the Eyeless King was being summoned. So I fact-checked by asking Twilight Sparkle—”

Luna interrupted. “How, precisely, did you know about Ystravilim? The Eyeless King, as you call him.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness?”

“The Eyeless King, the forbidden temples, the Scarlet Ceremony—long ago, my sister and I sealed all accounts of them. We believed that the average pony was better off remaining ignorant of such horrors. So how did you learn of them? Did you break into the top secret Canterlot archive? Do you know somepony who did?”

Ditzy shook her head quickly. “No! I—”

“That’s enough for me,” Luna said, raising a hoof. “Somepony else wishes to know exactly how you learned. You can explain in detail to her.”

The bell above the doorway jangled merrily, and the sweet aroma of countless pastries filled Ditzy’s nostrils as she entered The Muffin Emporium. The only other customers were Lily Valley and Roseluck, sitting in a far corner booth. They stopped eating to stare at Ditzy.

“Good mornin’, good mornin’,” Drury Lane called as he rushed from the back kitchen to the front counter. “Welcome to … Ditzy Doo! You’re alright!”

“No, I’m not alright!” Ditzy smirked. “I’m hungry!”

Over in their booth, Rose and Lily resumed eating their muffins, while pretending—very poorly pretending—that they weren’t watching Ditzy.

“Well, I can certainly help with that,” Drury said. “What flavor?”

Ditzy scanned the freshly-baked bounty. “Actually,” she said, “I think I’m in the mood for something else.” With one hoof, she tapped the side of her nose. “You know, a different flavor.”

“Certainly!” Drury repeat the gesture, then lowered his voice. “But it will have to wait until those two are gone.”

“Of course, of course.”

“So, did you see that story about you in the paper this morning? How much of that’s true?”

“It’s a completely true story, but they got every single detail completely wrong.”

Drury raised an eyebrow at that. But before he could answer, Ditzy said, “Hold on a sec.”

Lily and Rose stood at the end of the counter, staring at Ditzy. As Ditzy turned their way, they dove behind the corner. Ditzy trotted over and peered around at them. Lily and Rose stared back, their eyes as large as dinner plates.

“Boo,” Ditzy said.

The mares bolted out the front door, shrieking as they went.

Ditzy turned back to Drury. “Hey! They’re gone now.”

Smirking, Drury locked the door and swapped the “Open” sign for the “Come back later!” sign. He stepped back behind the counter and pulled a large, black-bound book from underneath. “Do you want to consult the tome,” he said, “or do you already have something in mind?”

“I want …” Ditzy paused for effect. “... the Mother of all Muffins.”

Drury consulted the calendar on the back wall. “Let’s see, the last time you had one was … eight months ago, so you don’t need a doctor’s note. But you still have to sign the waiver ...”

He passed the bundle of forms to Ditzy. She flipped through them quickly. “Same as before, same as before, same as before. Hey, Drury?”

He was in the kitchen. “Oranges … chili powder … tofuroni … durian …”

“Drury Lane!”

He poked his head back into the front room. “Yes?”

“Did you test the latest batch of P.J. berries?”

“What kind of chef do you take me for? Of course I did! Ate some myself. Perfectly safe.”

“Good enough for me.” Ditzy signed the final page.

Drury slipped a gas mask over his face and closed the kitchen door behind him.

A little over ten minutes later, the muffin sat cooling on the counter before Ditzy. She inhaled deeply. Most of the ingredients in this recipe she didn’t know, and the aroma she inhaled was like nothing else in this or any dimension.

Drury Lane raised his camera and nodded to Ditzy. She took her first bite, and the camera flashed as she chewed.

The muffin tasted like the satisfaction of a job—a completely unexpected job—well done. It tasted like a landscape painting that only uses the color blorange. It tasted like hearing one’s favorite song performed on an instrument that was invented five minutes ago.

Ditzy closed her eyes and moaned slightly. Drury, clutching the instant photograph in his teeth, shook it vigorously.

The muffin was gone, even its crumbs—Ditzy had licked the plate clean. She turned and smiled at Drury. He ignored her, instead staring at the photo in his hoof. Finally, he said, “Darn it!”

“What?” Ditzy said. “That’s not good enough? That muffin was amazing! It was even better than the last one you gave me!”

“I’ll know when the recipe’s good enough.” He scribbled a note on the back of the photo, then slipped it into an envelope between the pages of the black recipe book. “It’s close though. I just need to tweak it a bit. The ingredients are right—it all comes down to this proportion thing.”

“Well, when you finally do get it good enough, you’ll let me know, right?”

“You’ll know, Ditzy. The entire world will know.”

Ditzy glanced into her money bag, then back to Drury. “Oh, this is awkward.” She offered a single gem to the chef. “Do you have change for a sapphire?”

“Noooo … I don’t start the day with that much cash in the store.”

“Darn it. This is all I have on me. No bits.”

“Well, you can fly home and grab some. I trust you.”

“Orrrrrr … you can keep that …” Ditzy tossed the sapphire to Drury, then swept her forehooves to encompass all the muffins on display behind the glass case. “... And put all of those in a big bag for me!”

“So I took the fia trail through the sídhe—”

Luna interrupted again. “And how did you know of the fia sídhe?”

“Are they supposed to be a secret, too?”

“Not by our decree. But they vanished into the forests just as suddenly as they appeared in ponykind’s history. Few are alive who know that the fia sídhe were ever more than a legend.”

“Well, they visit my house sometimes.”

“What.”

“Once or twice a year at the most. They think I’m some kind of prophet, or maybe a witch, so they ask my advice on political stuff.”

“Thou art a political advisor … to the fia sídhe.”

“Well, mostly I just empty my mind and then say the first thing that pops into my head. Because prophets have to be cryptic, you know. They interpret what I say however they like.”

“Thou … You are faking prophecy for the fia sídhe?”

“No! They decided I was a prophet without ever asking me. And I figured it was better to play along than to tell them they were wrong.”

“You play a dangerous game, Ditzy Doo.”

“With the fia, there is no safe game.”

A short while passed in silence as Luna scowled. Just as Ditzy considered resuming her story, Luna broke the silence. “Then what are the latest news from the sídhe? What have they most recently consulted you about?”

“Well, a few days ago, one of them asked if they should declare war on the Fur Bolg. But—”

“Again?”

“Yes. But last night, the young fia on the trail told me they were massing their armies to … to invade Equestria.”

“WHAT!?” Luna grabbed Ditzy’s shoulders, as if to turn the smaller pony around to face her. But instead, she took a few deep breaths and withdrew her forehooves. “Ditzy Doo,” she said, her teeth gritted and her voice low. “Are you quite certain of that?”

“I … I can’t know if my source was completely trustworthy, but I’m quite certain that’s what he told me.”

“Then who was this source?”

“Um …”

“Enough talk. I will see for myself.”

Luna waved one forehoof, and the surroundings transformed. On every side, seedlings sprouted and grew rapidly, their tips rising into the sky with the speed of missiles. Within seconds, they were full-grown trees. The lawn was now a forest so dense that its canopy blocked out the sky. The only light came from luminescent moss hanging from the branches.

Luna and Ditzy were in the heart of the sídhe.

The mirror ceased reflecting and became a window. Instead of her and Princess Luna’s faces, Ditzy saw a trail through the forest, and two figures on it. One was an adolescent fia wearing a drab green cloak, with a horsehead fiddle strapped to his back. The other was a gray pegasus wearing a saddlebag.

The gray pegasus said, “Verily, that is the wisest word thou hast spoken yet, fiddle player.”

The fia answered, “A name, I-have! Éthuran, son of Mac Cuill!”

“Mac Cuill?” Luna said. “He settled down and had a son?”

“Yes, a son,” Ditzy answered. “And a spoiled brat. One who took up assaulting travellers because he was bored.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“He tried.”

Luna snorted and muttered something under her breath, something Ditzy couldn’t make out. “Shhh,” Ditzy said. “This is the important part.”

Éthuran lowered his head, pointing his antlers at the gray pegasus, and he spoke. “The Morrígan, soon-she-comes. Verily, almost here, she-is. Black the sky-will-be with her feathers, and blighted the land-will-be with her shadow. And the ponies of Equestria, dead or gone forever soon-they-be. When satisfied, the Morrígan-be, rulers of the land we-will-be.”

“Ooohhh,” Luna said. “So their invasion has been cancelled, I presume.”

Surrounding the ruins of the Town Hall was a perimeter of barricades and police tape. This was maintained both by Ponyville’s police and by a platoon of the Royal Guard. Surrounding them was another perimeter, this one made of gawking ponies.

The crowd parted for Ditzy, giving her strange looks and murmuring in nervous voices as they did. Ignoring them, Ditzy approached the barricade. Deputy Fishen Chips faced her from the other side. As she drew close, he flared his wings and spoke. “Miss Doo? Can’t let you in here, ma’am.”

“I just need to talk to the Mayor. Can she come out here?” Ditzy leaned to look past the Deputy, and she saw Mayor Mare a couple hundred feet away, speaking with a Guard pony.

“Hey! Hey! Madame Mayor!” Ditzy lifted into the air and waved her hooves as she shouted. “Over here! I’ve got something that you’ll really want to hear!” She landed when the Mayor walked over.

Mayor Mare appeared to have aged five years since Ditzy saw her yesterday. There were lines on her face, bags under her eyes, and—strangest of all—faint pink streaks in her gray mane. With eyes half-lidded, she spoke. “Can we make this quick, Ditzy? I’m a little busy right now, for reasons that should be obvious.” She lifted her coffee mug and took a long sip.

“Yeah, about that,” Ditzy said. She held aloft her bag of gems. “I’d like to make a donation to help rebuild Town Hall.”

Deputy Chips’ lighting-fast reflexes were all that saved him from being drenched by a mouthful of Mayor Mare’s coffee.

The Mayor wiped off her mouth. Her eyes were now wide open, and in her alertness, she seemed to have grown younger by a few years. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Ditzy!” she said. “I appreciate that—Ponyville appreciates that, so much. There’s just one very simple form to fill out, and my secretary can help you with that. Now ... where did she go? Constable Peeler, have you seen Raven?”

As the Constable walked up, Deputy Chips saluted and flew away. “Morning, ladies,” Peeler said. “No, ma’am, I’m afraid I don’t know where Miss Raven is right now. But did I hear correctly that Miss Doo wanted to make some sort of donation?”

“Yep!” Ditzy said. “To the rebuilding fund for Town Hall!”

“Well …” The Constable scratched his chin. “Madame Mayor, didn’t you already accept monies from the Royal Treasury’s Disaster Rebuilding Fund? For the complete cost of the new building, in fact?”

“Yes,” the Mayor said. “And?”

Constable Peeler glowered at her.

“Oh! That’s right!” Mayor Mare slapped her forehead. “Ditzy Doo, Ponyville appreciates your generous gesture, but …” She gulped, then continued through gritted teeth. “We are legally unable to accept it at this time.”

She walked away, grumbling to herself as she went.

“Well,” Ditzy said. “Thanks, Constable Peeler ... I guess.”

“Think nothing of it! I’m simply doing my job, so you can do yours.”

Ditzy stared at him, and he just smiled back. Ditzy broke eye contact and said, “Oh, and about, uh, the last time we spoke, I’m sorry for deliberately grossing you out like that.”

“What do you ...” Peeler’s eyes widened. “Ooohhh. That. Hrm. To be honest, that completely slipped my mind. Consider it forgiven.”

“Thanks,” Ditzy said. Then her eyes widened, and she pointed somewhere past the Constable. “Oh my goodness what is that?!”

“What?!” Peeler whipped around and scanned in the direction Ditzy indicated.

As soon as his back was turned, Ditzy reached into her bag, pulled out a big emerald, and lobbed it towards Mayor Mare. When all four of her hooves were back on the ground, she spoke again. “Oh, nevermind.”

“Nevermind?” Peeler turned back to Ditzy.

The emerald bounced off Mayor Mare’s head.

“I thought I saw somepony littering, but then he picked up his trash all on his own. So, false alarm.” Ditzy smiled.

“Ha ha!” Mayor Mare barked as she found where the emerald landed.

Ditzy’s stomach rumbled, and she remembered she hadn’t eaten yet. “Gotta go! Thanks again, Constable!”

“... I stayed there until Constable Peeler dug me out. And then I explained everything to him and Dr. Hooves.”

Ditzy inhaled and watched for the Princess's reaction. Lost in her own thoughts, Luna scratched her chin and frowned slightly. Ditzy gulped and sat up straighter. The beach’s sand shifted under her weight.

The sky was dark and growing darker. A light purple patch on the horizon, over the ocean, marked where the sun had set. The waves that broke on the shore were a low roar in Ditzy’s ears. A rocky promontory jutted into the ocean and the crashing waves. On this point, a lighthouse stood tall, sweeping its beam in a lazy clockwise arc.

Far out on the waves, a turtle windsurfed.

The Princess of the Night stood out from darkening sky—the stars in her mane cast an ethereal glow about her. Finally, she spoke. “Ditzy Doo, you have a remarkable ability. But what is your opinion of it? Do you consider it a gift or a curse?”

“Well …” Ditzy said. “Neither, I guess.”

Luna quirked an eyebrow. “Explain yourself.”

“Do you know the story of how I got my cutie mark? I guess you wouldn’t. I never told the real story to anypony besides my parents. Anyway, Mom and Dad were both in the Guard, so I wanted—”

“Yes,” Luna interrupted. “Lupita DeLopeza: fifteen years’ service in the Air Guard, including six years in the Wonderbolts. LaMontagne Burningspear Morningdew: twenty-seven years’ service in the Border Guard. Earned the Silver Laurel for his actions in the Battle of Sandbox Grove. Also ...”

She trailed off as she noticed the shocked expression on Ditzy’s face. “My apologies,” Luna said. “Continue your story.”

Ditzy shut her mouth and shook her head before continuing. “Well, I realized how important Mom and Dad’s jobs were. How the average pony can live a life of peace and stability thanks to those ponies who are willing and able to fight on their behalf. And I decided that I wanted to help, too. I wanted to join the Guard just like my parents.

“They humored me, of course, but ... Eventually I figured out that I’d never meet the standards to get into the Guard. Because of, you know …” Ditzy raised a hoof and pointed at her eyes. “Had this since I was born. Apparently it runs in Mom’s side of the family. Los ojos del caos, my grandma called it. … I’m getting off topic.

“I was in, hmm … third grade when I figured out that my dream was impossible. So I was pretty down for a few days. And that was when it happened.”

Grass sprouted from the ground beneath Ditzy and Princess Luna. Playground equipment replaced the nearest sand dunes. The schoolhouse—and beyond it, the buildings of Ponyville—rose out of the ocean. The rising moon transformed into the sun and zipped to the highest point of the sky. Instead of crashing surf, the shouts and laughter of children filled the air.

A gray, blank-flanked pegasus filly trotted towards the busy playground of the Ponyville schoolhouse.

“It was recess, and I was wondering whether to play on the see-saw, or to go jump rope with the other fillies. Then, a portal opened up. I saw some strange ponies on the other side of the portal, so I walked through to get a closer look at them.”

If anypony on the playground had been watching, they would have seen the filly step forward and disappear into thin air.

“But as soon as those strange ponies saw me, they got upset about something, and they pushed me back through. When I returned to the playground, I realized I wasn’t the only one who had come through the portal.”

The filly reappeared from nowhere, then stumbled and fell on her face. A frightened shout made her look up. A creature was in the middle of the playground, surrounded by a growing group of colts and fillies. The creature resembled a hermit crab the size of a an adult pony—but instead of a sea shell, he had on his back a discarded shade of blue.

None of the other children could see him, of course. However, they had no difficulty feeling him. One colt had run face-first into his side and was now bawling loudly. Others had tripped over the invisible creature’s legs and were now trying to feel it out. More children joined them by the minute, some to help and some just to gawk.

“Of course, the chromastacean was getting nervous. He was young and had stumbled out of his natural environment by accident, and now a bunch of colts and fillies were prodding him.”

The chromastacean turned, knocking over several children in the process. They shouted, and the ones watching from a distance shouted even louder.

“Maybe … maybe I’m remembering it worse than it really was. But at the time, I was certain that both sides were on the verge of panic. That someone was about to get hurt.”

The gray filly shoved her way through the crowd and trotted up to the creature. “Everypony, stand back!” she declared, with such certainty that the crowd silently obeyed. With effort, she lifted off the ground until she hovered at the chromastacean’s eye level. In a slightly lower voice, she sang the most calming song she knew:

“Hush now, quiet now,
it’s time to lay your slee— Hahaha stop it!”

The creature’s antennae flitted across the filly’s face, tickling her. “Hey,” she said, “you wanna get home, right? The way home’s right over there!” She pointed at the portal, still open.

The creature did not react.

“Oh, right, that won’t work,” she said. Gently, she grasped one antenna in her forehoof, then landed. “Follow me.” She trotted slowly to her left, around the creature, and he turned to keep facing her. At the same speed, she turned again and trotted away from the creature—leading him towards the portal. “Yes … yes … Keep coming! … Yes … Just a little bit farther … yes … Oh!”

The chromastacean finally sensed the portal and darted forward. The filly leaped out of his way at the last second and found herself again lying facedown in the ground. “You’re welcome!” she shouted as the creature disappeared through the portal.

She stood up and found the slack-jawed faces of her classmates staring at her. A nearby teal filly was the first to find her voice. “Derpy … what just happened?”

“Umm …” the pegasus filly said.

“Peace—even peace of mind—is a fragile thing in this world,” Ditzy said to Princess Luna. “No sturdier than a single wildflower, or a soap bubble. It can only survive if somepony protects it. And that day, I realized I didn’t need to join the Guard to do that. I could protect my fellow ponies in my own way.”

“Ummmmmm …” the pegasus filly continued. A flash of light played across her haunches. Its disappearance revealed that her fur now bore paired images: a cutie mark in the shape of seven bubbles. She didn’t notice. “That was … my act for the talent show next week! Yeah!”

Her audience was evenly split between baffled and incredulous. One of the incredulous ones, a red colt, answered, “What talent was that, then?”

“Invisible … ventriloquism.”

“That’s dumb and impossible.”

The pegasus filly closed her eyes and put a hoof to her chest. “A true ventriloquist never reveals her secrets.”

Before they could exchange any more razor-sharp repartee, a bell rang to signal the end of recess. The filly galloped into the schoolhouse, away from her classmates.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique! Where ... everything is …” Rarity trailed off and gasped dramatically. “Derpy! You’re alive!”

“Yesshh …” Ditzy said, her voice muffled by the bag in her mouth. She dropped it before continuing. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Rarity levitated the morning edition of The Ponyville Express from a nearby counter to Ditzy’s hoof. The front page headline proclaimed:

TOWN HALL DEMOLISHED BY DEAD-OF-NIGHT DETONATION!
Ditzy Doo, Weather Worker, Deduced Deceased.

The article was accompanied by two photos: a dark, night-time picture of the rubble that had once been Ponyville Town Hall, and a small file photo of Ditzy.

“Aw nuts,” Ditzy said. “If I’d known that my weather license photo was going to end up on the front page of The Ponyville Express, I’d have asked for another take.”

“Really, Der … I mean, really, Ditzy?” Rarity stepped closer. “You almost came to a terrible end last night, yet you’re more concerned about oh my goodness! That really is an awful picture.”

“I know, right?”

“Is that lighting supposed to make everypony look like a zombie? Really, with all the tax money going towards weather patrol, I’d think they could afford better photography.”

“Ehh.” Ditzy shrugged, then pushed her bag towards Rarity. “Anyway, remember when you said you could use more of those gold flower petals? I found some more.”

“Oooooo!” Rarity removed several of the blossoms from the bag. “Oh, yes, these will do quite nicely.”

She deposited the bag in a nearby chest, then locked the chest. She disappeared into one of the boutique’s back rooms, and she reappeared a moment later with another bag. This, she passed to Ditzy. The bag was lighter than Ditzy expected. Looking inside, she found it held an assortment of gemstones, rather than bits.

“Much easier to carry in that form,” Rarity said, “don’t you agree?”

Ditzy mentally added up the value of the gems, and realized Rarity had given her significantly more than the base value of the gold flowers. “Wow,” she said. “Thanks.”

“No, Ditzy. Thank you for giving me the ingredient I needed to create a piece of art.”

“Pleasure doing business with you!” Ditzy turned to leave, but halted when she felt Rarity’s hoof on her shoulder.

Rarity held up the front page of the newspaper again. “Obviously,” she said, “this got some major details of the story wrong. But is it true that you were there, at Town Hall last night, trying to stop that bomb from going off?”

“Umm … Sort of? I was stopping something very bad from happening. That’s all I can say about last night.”

“Well, some of my dearest friends are well acquainted with just how fickle recognition for heroism can be. I’d like to make something for you, as a lasting token of our appreciation.”

“I, um, wow. I don’t know what to …”

“Which would you prefer? A hat? A scarf? A cape? Boots? Blouse? Skirt? Pants? Saddle?”

“A saddlebag! I lost my old saddlebag, so I need a new one.”

“Oh, I’ve got an idea that would be just perfect! Hold still just one second …”

Ditzy found herself caught up in a whirlwind of tape measure, then somehow deposited outside the boutique’s front door. She shook her head, then picked up the bag of gems and trotted away.

“I’ll have it ready for you this time tomorrow!” Rarity called from inside.

Ditzy trotted off, towards Town Square.

The image of the school playground dissipated like a smoke cloud as Princess Luna cleared her throat. “Neither a blessing nor a curse, then,” she said. “You believe that your unique power of sight is your purpose in life. Your calling, for good and for ill.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ditzy said. “That’s a much more concise way of putting it.”

With the Ponyville schoolhouse gone, Ditzy found herself—and Luna, and the mirror—seated on flat ground. It was featureless and gray. The sky was precisely the same shade of gray, but was filled with thousands of gleaming soap bubbles.

“It heartens me to hear that, Ditzy Doo, because I have an offer in which you will be quite interested. How much did Agent Time Turner Hooves tell you about the Royal Secret Service?”

“Nothing, really. … Wait, is that what ‘R.S.S.’ stood for all this time?”

Luna nodded. “You know the role the Guard serves in protecting Equestria. You must have some inkling of the roles that my sister, and I, and the Elements of Harmony play in Equestria’s defense. Well, the Royal Secret Service exists to solve problems before they become severe enough to require intervention by the Guard or the Elements. Problems of which the average Equestrian citizen is better off remaining ignorant.”

“You mean …”

“Yes, Ditzy Doo.” Luna permitted the corners of her mouth to curl up, very slightly. “You’re already doing the work of a Secret Service Agent, but unofficially and alone. How would you like to continue, officially?”

“Oh,” Ditzy said, her eyes wide. “I … um … wow.”

“As an Agent of the Royal Secret Service, you’ll have access to a wide-reaching support network, opportunities for higher education, and a very competitive benefits package. And the pay … well, it’s … adequate. You know how government work is.”

“I’m sure it’s better than what I’m getting paid now for this work.”

“Ha! That’s the spirit!” Princess Luna levitated a sealed scroll from beneath her wing. “Here is the formal job offer. Read through it after you wake up, take a week to consider it, then write back to me.” She passed the scroll to Ditzy.

Ditzy stared at the scroll resting on her hoof, then looked back up to the Princess. “Wait, did you say, read through it after I—”

Ditzy woke up.

Ditzy had stopped chuckling midway through the trip back from the clock shop, but she still smiled as she trotted up to her apartment complex. However, when she stepped into the hallway, the blinding purple light quickly wiped the smile off her face.

“Morning, Ditzy Doo,” Twilight Sparkle said. There was a soft thump as she slammed a book shut—a very thick book, by the sound of it. “You’re out and about awfully early.”

“Morning, Twilight,” Ditzy said, looking intently at her hooves. “I take it you’re here about … that thing you mentioned earlier?”

Twilight gasped elaborately, then added in a stage whisper, “She’s a mind reader!”

“Ha ha, very droll. How about we step into my place and talk it over?”

As Ditzy approached her door, she almost tripped over the book-stuffed saddlebags at Twilight’s side. She opened the door and stepped in.

“Yes, of course, Ditzy. But before you close that door, let me warn you that Princess Celestia answered my letter and authorized me to … Wait, did you say ‘talk it over’? Yes!”

There was rush of hoofbeats as Twilight sped past Ditzy, into the apartment.

Ditzy closed the door. “Wait,” she said, “what was that last thing you said? About the Princess authorizing you to do something?”

“Oh, that.” Twilight’s hoofsteps continued, at a slower pace, through the living room and into the kitchen. “Celestia replied to my letter last night, and said that I really need to discuss the issue with you before I do anything else. So I figured, if you tried to brush me off again, you’d be obstructing me from obeying the Princess’ direct order, and I could arrest you for it.” She emerged from the kitchen. “Ha ha, it’s a good thing I didn’t have to do that!”

Her eyes on the floor, Ditzy brushed past Twilight, into the kitchen. “You want anything to eat? I’ve got muffins, and … um …”

“No thanks. I’d rather just talk.”

“Well, I’m starving.” Ditzy pulled an almond poppyseed muffin from her breadbox. “My offer still stands if you change your mind.”

“But … can’t that wait just a bit?”

Ditzy took a bite of the muffin.

“Ditzy … are you … brushing me off, again?”

Ditzy swallowed. “Are you going to arrest me over a muffin?”

“Darn it all, Ditzy Doo, you’re the most frustrating pegasus I’ve ever met!” The purple light flared with Twilight’s shout. Ditzy flinched, and Twilight continued. “Why the delays? Why the evasion? Are you allergic to answering questions or something? Why won’t you even look at me?”

“Because I can’t!”

The purple light dimmed to its normal level, and Ditzy’s breathing slowed. “What?” Twilight said, softly.

“I … I can see magic. Not just the visible unicorn spells—all magic. The subtle energy that flows from the pegasus ponies’ wings and the earth ponies’ hooves. The power behind unicorn telemawhatever—”

“Telekinesis?”

“Yeah, that, and also the power that the unicorns don’t use. All that magic looks like auras of light.”

“And … I look like?”

“You’re almost as bright as the sun.”

“I … um … I … Oh, I made you drop your muffin. I’m sorry.”

The muffin was indeed lying on the kitchen floor. Twilight’s telekinesis enveloped it, and it rose to Ditzy’s eye level, glowing brightly and unbearably. “Thirty second rule!” Twilight said. “It’s still good!”

“Twilight, you and I both know the thirty second rule is a lie. It’s five seconds or nothing.”

“Yeah …” Twilight tossed the muffin in the garbage can. “You know, Ditzy, there’s a medical term for what you describe. Thaumaturgical synesthesia. It’s a very rare condition in unicorns. Very, very rare.”

Ditzy sighed. Great, she thought. I know where this is going.

Twilight continued, “And cases in earth ponies and pegasi are just theoretical. They’ve never been documented. Do you know what this means?”

Ditzy thought, Ugh, let’s get this over with. She said, “You think I’m just—”

Twilight ignored her. “You are a major ethero-medical breakthrough!”

“What.”

Twilight paced, her hoofbeats growing faster as she grew more excited. “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, Ditzy, you need to come over to my lab sometime! I could run some M.E.G.s and some other tests, write up the results and … Oh! Oh! I could publish in one of the really prestigious peer-reviewed journals! Medicine! Magic! Thaumaturgia Experimentalis et Applicata! Perhaps even ... Medical Magic!”

Judging by the tone of her voice, Twilight must have had stars in her eyes as she said the name.

“That sounds nice,” Ditzy said.

“Add another brick to the temple of pony knowledge! And prove that I’m not just … just … Um, Ditzy, we’ve gotten a bit off-track.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

“Wait! Just one second,” Twilight said. Her rapid hoofsteps went back to the front door. Several thumps followed—the sound of heavy books falling to the floor. Then the purple light dimmed significantly. “How does this look?”

Cautiously, Ditzy glanced in that direction. For the first time, she could look directly at the Bearer of the Element of Magic without hurting herself. Twilight’s body still glowed, but only with the light of an indoor lamp.

Ditzy found her appearance somewhat anticlimactic. Subconsciously, she had assumed that the personal student of Princess Celestia looked more like royalty and less like a librarian. It didn’t help Twilight’s appearance that she was wearing her saddlebag pocket over her head, like a very misshapen hat. But this odd headgear covered her horn, reducing its glare to a bearable level, so Ditzy wasn’t going to criticize. With her hoof, Twilight shifted the bag to uncover one eye, and she met Ditzy’s gaze. Ditzy smiled and nodded vigorously.

“Great!” Twilight said. “So then. Ditzy, how do you know about Th’cl’br’gh the Overpunctuated? The one you called the Eyeless King?”

“Wait, wait, ‘the Overpunctuated’? Unicorn scholars actually called him that?”

“In that particular field, a sense of humor goes a long way towards fighting off the creeping madness.”

“Makes sense. Anyway, I know about him because I’ve been to places where information about him isn’t considered a dangerous secret. No, not other countries. Other dimensions. Places where the King’s banishment beyond the ninth darkness is still within living memory.”

Twilight squinted at Ditzy. Before she could voice any disbelief, Ditzy continued. “Specifically, I learned about the Eyeless King from Hazard Read, from Xanthorgh the Flayer, and from the murals of Iasô-nmartis. And I’m sure there are some others I’m forgetting.”

“Hazard Read, the Half-Mad? He told you?”

“Really? That’s the part of my story you disbelieve?”

“Not the only part, just the easiest to dispute. Because Hazard Read lived in Saddle Arabia.”

“Lived. Past tense. Clearly, he doesn’t live there anymore.”

“Over a thousand years ago.”

“Time flows differently in the thirty-third dimension. Which is where I met him.”

Twilight muttered something under her breath. “Okay,” she said aloud. “Setting aside the question of Hazard Read, none of this explains that sketch of yours that started this whole mess. How did you know enough to recreate the layout of an ancient temple of Czernobaa? You couldn’t have learned that from the murals of Iasô-nmartis.”

Ditzy trotted to her kitchen table, then returned carrying two sheets of paper. One of them, the second page of her earlier note to Twilight, she hoofed over. “You mean this sketch?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I copied it from this.” Ditzy hoofed over the other page. It was on thinner, cheaper paper than the first sheet—thermofax paper—but this version of the plan had all the labels that Ditzy had omitted from her sketch.

“What?” Twilight said. “This can’t be right.”

“This is an exact copy of the original blueprint from Town Hall. Well, it used to be in Town Hall …”

Twilight dropped the sheet and scrambled backwards until her rump collided with the wall. “How is this … How did nopony … What should we do about …” She gasped, then looked directly at Ditzy. “That explosion last night. The news said that you were trying to stop the bomb, but that’s not true, is it? You blew up Town Hall, because you realized what it was.”

“And because somepony fulfilled the Scarlet Ceremony earlier that very day.”

Twilight shuddered. “You mean somepony here deliberately—”

“No, not deliberately. Completely by accident. Turns out that just one drop is enough to fulfill the ‘blood of a virgin’ portion of the ceremony.”

“An accident. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.” Groaning, she pulled the saddlebag further down, until her entire head was inside the pocket. “Ditzy, I feel really weird about this. Is this how the rest of Ponyville felt each time I saved the town from some disaster? Nevermind, don’t answer that.”

Twilight sighed before speaking again. “What I really want to know is how Ponyville built a temple to Th’cl’br’gh the Overpunctuated and disguised it as a Town Hall without anypony noticing.”

Ditzy shrugged before she remembered that Twilight couldn’t see her. “Information security gone terribly right, I think? The Princesses did too good a job suppressing knowledge of the forbidden temples. So nopony involved in the town hall’s construction knew enough to get suspicious.”

She looked down at the blueprint. “I’m still wondering about this guy, though.” She pushed the sheet closer to Twilight. When Twilight lifted the saddlebag to see again, Ditzy pointed her forehoof at the signature in the corner of the blueprint. “The architect. Was he some kind of crazy cultist who wanted to summon eternal darkness to Equestria? Or was he just a chump with incredibly poor taste in artistic inspiration?”

“I can solve that one.”

“Huh?”

Twilight stood up and stepped forward. “It’s just a question of finding him in the architectural archives, then examining all his blueprints to see if any of his other designs are hiding nasty little secrets.” She continued trotting, picking up speed as she passed Ditzy. “Oh, we could make a proper trip out of it! See the sights in Canterlot, visit my family! Ditzy, it’ll be a research vacation!”

Ditzy blinked. “We?”

Twilight was already heading for the front door. She only paused to levitate her pile of books and carry them with her—forcing Ditzy to shield her eyes. “Let me know when you’re free to go to Canterlot for a week,” she said as she passed through the door. “I’ll make the travel arrangements!”

The door shut. Ditzy sat down. What did I just agree to? she thought.

There was a pounding on the door. “Hey, Ditzy, I forgot!” Twilight shouted from the hallway. “You’re still going to let me run some M.E.G.s to figure out how your synesthesia works, right?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Thank you so much!”

Twilight’s hoofsteps disappeared down the hall.

After few seconds, they returned.

“Hey, Ditzy, one more thing! We’re having a party to welcome Applejack back from the Equestria Rodeo. You’re welcome to come. It’ll be this Wednesday, at Sweet Apple Acres.”

Aaaaaawkward, Ditzy thought. “I … uh … I’d love to, but I have a … a ... work! Yes, very important weather work that day. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay. Some other time, then!”

Ditzy sighed and waited. Once she was convinced that Twilight was really gone, she went back to the kitchen. She reached into the breadbox and found it completely empty. As she wondered how she had managed to run out of muffins, her gaze traveled to the window. The plant on the sill had bloomed again last night.

“Aw, horsefeathers,” Ditzy said. She rolled over in her bed and looked out the window. The sun had not risen yet, but the horizon was growing lighter. “I should have known it was all just a dream. That job offer was too good to be true.” She turned to her other side. “And I guess the windsurfing turtle should have tipped me off, too.”

She rolled back to her first side, and her gaze traveled to the nightstand. What she saw made her squint, rub her eyes, and look again. The object was still there: a scroll, sealed with a crescent moon symbol. It was identical to the scroll from her dream.

Ditzy snatched it up, broke the seal, and greedily read the enclosed letter. Just as she hoped, it offered her a job identical to the one she had dreamed about. It was also written in mind-numbingly precise legalese. That, she had not hoped for.

She set the scroll down and massaged her temple with one hoof. Staring unconsciously, she pondered the strange new world she had stepped into: a world of Crown-sanctioned monster-wrangling—a world with at least one other pony who, like Ditzy, hid his true talents from outsiders by necessity. She was still thinking about Dr. Hooves when she realized one of her eyes had been pointing at her alarm clock for at least a minute.

Ditzy gasped, and her eyes widened.

A minute later, she was racing through the air over Ponyville, clutching the alarm clock to her chest.

Another minute later, she was hovering outside the second story window over Time Turner’s Timepieces.

She reached one hoof forward. But before she could knock, the window slid open, and Dr. Hooves leaned out. “Can you please keep quiet?” he whispered forcefully. “One of my time-displaced selves is catching up on his sleep.”

Ditzy peered past the doctor. There was, indeed, another Dr. Hooves sprawled across the couch on the far side of the room. She nodded to the awake Hooves.

“Well then,” he said, “what brings you here so quickly? Did the Princess of the Night, Protector of Dreams, Director of the R.S.S., etc. etc., pay you a visit already?”

“No. I mean … Yes, she did, but that’s not why I’m here.” Ditzy held the alarm clock up to the doctor’s face. “This is.”

Hooves pushed the clock aside. “Two things. First, I don’t fix magilectric clocks. That’s Alternating Current’s speciality. Second, my shop doesn’t open until one hour, two minutes and … forty-five seconds from now.”

“No, Dr. Hooves, that’s …”

“You can just call me Time Turner if you’d prefer.”

“Time Turner, you mentioned a few days ago that you detected a temporal anomaly here in Ponyville? You thought I was the cause of it.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry I was such an—”

“When did you first detect it?”

“One minute and thirty-seven seconds shy of three days ago. Why?”

“That anomaly on the Town Hall only appeared two days ago.”

The doctor’s eyes widened. “So if Town Hall wasn’t the source, then …” He looked down at the clock in Ditzy’s hooves. “That clock began behaving strangely, three days ago, I presume?”

“I can show you exactly how, if you get another radio and set it to KTRT at 6:30.”

Dr. Hooves smirked, then disappeared in a flash of green light. Seconds later, he reappeared with another flash. “Done.”

“Um … where’s the radio?”

“Within earshot.”

“Okay,” Ditzy said. “So now we just—”

6:30 struck. First, the clock in Ditzy’s hooves blared the familiar song about days and the averageness thereof. Less than a second later, another alarm clock radio sounded in the room behind Dr. Hooves. It played a completely different song, one with a xylophone, a buttery smooth bassline, and a twee choir singing:

“... are shaking like a le-e-e-eaf!”

“Whargebargmurberdurber …” the other Hooves, on the couch, muttered. With his eyes shut, he flailed a forehoof in the general direction of the radio on the floor, just out of his reach. “Pahrmeeshuddatauforaimakeeyooo!”

“It blows a hole in the radio,
where it hasn’t sounded good all week.”

Ignoring his just-awakened self, the Hooves at the window leaned forward and examined Ditzy’s clock. “This radio’s at 90.1 FM, and so is that one. This is definitely Ow!”

“A mike and boom, in—”

The other radio struck the back of the doctor’s head, fell to the floor, and went silent. The other Hooves, exhausted from the effort of throwing the radio across the room, slumped back onto the couch and went to sleep.

“Are you okay?” Ditzy asked.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Dr. Hooves rubbed the back of his head with one hoof. “Heh, heh. Totally worth it.” He took the clock from Ditzy and shut off its radio. “Thank you so much for bringing this to my attention.”

He stepped back and closed the window.

Ditzy continued hovering and shook her head. “Ummm …”

The window just to her right opened, and Dr. Hooves leaned out. “Ditzy Doo? Thank goodness. Would you like some tea? I was just about to put a pot on, and perhaps we could unravel the mystery of your alarm clock together.”

Ditzy surprised herself by drinking her entire cup of tea.

“Good, isn’t it?” Hooves said. “I don’t know where Tealove finds this stuff, but she really does import the best tea varieties.” He picked up the screwdriver with his mouth and resumed calibrating his boxy, silver scanner.

Ditzy set the teacup back on the table and waited until Hooves set the screwdriver down before speaking. “What does that thing scan for, again? What can it pick up, besides tachyons?”

“Oh, it can pick up all kinds of particles. Chronitons, anti-chronitons, bandonions, frippertronics, chromelodions, warticles … even time beaver feces.”

“Time beaver … feces?”

“You know, time beavers. They build dams in the time stream.”

Ditzy furrowed her brows and said nothing. A few seconds passed, and Dr. Hooves sighed. “Fine, I get it. Don’t quit my day job …”

“Oh! Time stream! Hahahaha …” Ditzy rolled onto her back as she laughed, kicking her legs in the air. “... hahahaaaaa. At first I thought you were serious and time beavers were real.”

Hooves muttered under his breath, and Ditzy could barely make out the words. “Well, at least you figured it out quicker than …”

He pointed the scanner at the alarm clock, then turned the radio on. As the familiar song played, the needles of several gauges rose. The first ones read, “400 mGy Ω,” “30 mGy Ŵu,” “0 mGy Ŧt,” ”1.2 cGy Ŷ ” ...

“What does that mean?” Ditzy asked.

“It means I’ve seen this kind of signal before.” Hooves shut off both the scanner and the radio, then placed the latter on his back. “Come with me to the basement. I’ll explain on the way.”

“There’s a very interesting device”—he continued as he and Ditzy tromped down the stairs—“that can send messages into the past. And it hides these messages as distortion in an otherwise-normal radio signal. Which, unfortunately, hides the messages so well that the device has to give an unmistakable, overt signal so the recipient knows they even received the message. Rather defeats the purpose, if you ask me.”

They reached the ground floor, and stepped into the front room of the clock shop. Hundreds of clocks covered the walls, ticking and tocking in perfect unison.

“What does this have to do with my clock?” Ditzy asked.

Dr. Hooves led Ditzy down another staircase. “Everything. When a radio begins replaying the same transmission, again and again, that is the overt signal that you’ve received a message from the future.”

“You know this firsthoof? Do you have one of those ... message senders?”

“I will, in the near future.”

“And why would somepony from the future want to send a message to me?”

“We’ll know once we’ve heard it. Here we are.”

They arrived at the basement door. It was barred and locked, and it looked solid enough to withstand anything shy of a battering ram.

Hooves turned to Ditzy. “Can you hold your clock for a second? I need to get the key. It’s under a rock.”

He disappeared in a flash of green light, then reappeared a second later, holding a key. “A rock seven thousand years in the past.”

The walls of the basement were lined with computers and other, more esoteric devices. Dr. Hooves walked up to one computer that had two reel-to-reel tape decks and a built-in microphone. “Behold!” he said. “The decryptor.” He loaded a feed reel onto each deck, then he placed the clock next to the mic. He pressed a button, and the bottom tape began turning. He motioned for Ditzy to be quiet, then switched on the radio.

Silently, Ditzy surveyed the objects around her. To her right, there was a particularly large computer with a rainbow-colored wheel on the front and a dark, inverted triangle above it. There was a desk with a large set of brass calipers, at just the right height and diameter to grasp the average pony’s head. There was a stand holding a model of an atom, made of brightly painted wood. Next to it was a larger model of the same atom, made of dull gray metal.

A bell dinged. A green bulb on top of the computer lit up, and the tapes stopped turning. “Well,” Hooves said as he turned off the radio. “Looks like it’s a short message.” He rewound the bottom tape, then pressed a different button. Both tape decks began turning.

Ditzy resumed looking around the room. To her left, there was a device resembling a giant toaster, with slabs of metal in its slots rather than bread. There was a glass case holding the skeleton of a dragon’s hand and forearm—cast in metal. There was a watermelon in an industrial vice.

“Ohmigosh I forgot!” Ditzy grabbed the doctor’s shoulders. “Applejack! What about her?”

“What about her?”

“You said that my wrecking Town Hall set in motion a chain reaction of bad decisions that will end with Applejack never coming back to Ponyville! That’s a bad thing, right?”

“Oh, right. That. I’ve already taken care of it. Well, from my perspective I’ve already taken care of it, but from her perspective it hasn’t happened yet.”

Ditzy released his shoulders. “Oh, good. How’d you do it?”

“You see, a few days from today, I’ll ‘just happen’ to run into Applejack at the Dodge Junction train station. I’ll say something that makes her consider sending a telegram back to her family. Shortly after, she’ll send it. It will arrive on Wednesday, and voila!”

Ditzy blinked. “I don’t follow.”

“Another chain reaction. You see … Oh, it’s done decrypting.” The computer’s green bulb was shining again, and the tape reels were still. “I can fully explain later. But, in short, sometimes the best solution is to follow the lead of our dearly-beloved Sun Princess. By which I mean, trick other ponies into solving problems for you.”

He rewound the bottom tape deck again, then pulled the reel off and loaded it onto a nearby tape player. “Here it is, Ditzy. The moment of truth. The ultimate meaning of the song that’s been haunting you for these past days. The—”

Ditzy lunged past him and hit the play button.

“—not going to work. It’s not merely impossible, it makes a mockery of causality itself. You’ll see.”

Upon hearing the voice from the tape player, Dr. Hooves groaned and placed his hooves over his eyes. However, the next voice made him drop his hooves and stare at the player in rapt attention.

“Okay, Time Turner. It’s recording. Try and prove me wrong.”

“Watch and learn, dear. Ahem. Hello, past blockhead.”

“Hello, future jerk,” Hooves answered. Ditzy sighed, and simultaneously, the second voice in the recording sighed as well. The first voice continued.

“I’m calling to inform you that a temporal and spatial anomaly will begin forming on Ponyville Town Hall tomorrow morning. A day after that, a monster will try to come through. One of those very nasty beasties that you and I are technically not supposed to know about. There’s no need to panic though, because Ditzy Doo has it well in hoof. You know, the pretty gray pegasus with the funny eyes.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Doc.”

“Perhaps you could consider finding some way to help her. At the very least, just stand back and let her do her thing, instead of making a fool of yourself. Surely doing nothing can’t be too hard for you? If you pull that off, I’ll be slightly less disappointed in you than usual. … Alright, that’s it.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to send back?”

“This experiment was your idea, Ditzy. Are you going to send it or not?”

“Sure, sure. It’s this switch, right?”

“No! Not that—”

The message ended. For some seconds, the only sound in the basement was the faint “whirr” as the tape reels continued spinning.

Ditzy spoke first. “What the hay did we just listen to?”

“That …” Dr. Hooves shook his head. “That wasn’t meant for you at all, Ditzy. How did a message meant for me get sent to you?”

“Oh,” Ditzy said. “Ooohhh! It’s my fault. It’s … Ha ha hahahaha!”

Hooves could only look with confusion as Ditzy fell to the floor and continued laughing.