Twilight trotted slowly across New Central Park. After the last humans in the greater New York City area had either been ponified or moved out of their brownstones, Central Park was expanded out and made 20% larger, allowing for more of the luscious greens and trees that had been so painstakingly preserved throughout earth's ecological disasters.
But where the park was usually bustling with activity, for whatever reason, it was nearly empty. The sheer quietness filled her ears. All that could be heard was her own hooves against the paved walkway that serpentined through the park. She took in the crisp May air and wondered who would want to miss out on such a beautiful day.
"Where is everypony?" she asked herself aloud.
"Don't you know what day it is, young filly?" came the deep, wheezy voice of an elderly colt.
His voice startled her. There he sat in plain sight on one of the park benches along the trail, his cane resting across his legs and a brown flat cap on his head. He was so motionless, that she didn't even register his presence until he spoke.
She approached him, "No, sir, I don't? Is it some sort of holiday?"
The old colt stared at her for a moment before widening his eyes in a moment of clarity, "Oh, I see, you must be a natural pony." He shifted position and thought on her question, "Hm... Well, I suppose you could call it a holiday. Though "holiday" doesn't really fit the tone, I think."
Twilight was growing frustrated but tried again to coax the information out of the elderly gentlecolt, "Well, what day is today, sir?"
He smiled weakly at the young mare, "Why, today is Memorial Day."
"Memorial Day?"
"Yes, indeed."
Twilight looked around again, "But, where is everyone? And what is today memorializing?"
"Oh," dragged on the old gent, staring off into the distance, "Probably in a cemetery with their loved ones. You see, Memorial Day is a special day for us Americans," he paused, "Although, I suppose we're Equestrians now...
He refocused on Twilight, "anyway, Memorial Day was originally to honor and remember all of the men and women who died while serving in the armed forces."
"Armed Forces?"
"Soldiers, my dear; Soldiers."
Twilight watched as the old colt took off his hat and pressed it against his chest with his hoof, "Hands, Horns, Wings, or Hooves; Let freedom ring 'cross the Red, White, and Blue."
That was the unofficial mantra of the U.S. Armed forces that emerged once they began allowing converted citizens into service. At that point the only time units were deployed were for peace keeping missions or counter terrorism measures; almost entirely related to incidents at conversion bureaus.
Twilight took a seat next to him, "When did this holiday start?"
"Well," he started, replacing the hat on his head, "if memory serves (and it might not, heh heh) it began in the mid-1800's in honor of those who died in the civil war. Terrible times, then. Brother against brother..." His voice trailed off.
Twilight let the air between them settle for a bit, waiting for the right moment.
"Were you a soldier?" she asked gently.
He smile weakly, "No. No ma'am. I was a journalist behind a desk during the last war."
"World War III?"
He nodded, "Yes. Even though many of my friends had enlisted, the truth is I never had the stomach for violence... of any sort. That's why I couldn't report on the war. That's why I reported on Art," he looked wistfully into the distance, "There was peace in art..." The old colt grasped his can awkwardly and began getting up, "Now, if you excuse me, I've got to go visit an old friend of mine. A young soldier."
"A soldier? Maybe he can tell me more about why people would fight against each other like that... brother against brother..."
Twilight rose from the bench and helped the old gentlecolt, "Would you mind if I came with you? I'd like to ask your friend, some questions... if that's alright."
He looked at her and smiled, though his eyes had the weight of pain in them, "I don't mind; I often ask him things myself, but he hasn't answered in a very long time."
Twilight then realized what he meant
"An old friend of mine... A young soldier."
"I understand," she said, smiling politely, "It was nice talking to you sir. Have a good day."
"Likewise."
And with that, Twilight began trotting back towards the entrance of the park.
She had so many questions.
She had to get to a library.
Samuel Walowitz sat on the robotically maintained grass and stared at the government issue white headstone. Taking his cap off, he pulled out the pack of vintage cigarettes and put the end into the electric igniter embedded in the bottom of the pack.
Taking a deep pull, he let the smoke out in a breathy sigh.
"Hey, Rodger, how are you? I've been holding up well enough, I guess. Though this new body took some getting used to. Homeowners association said I had to get it if I wanted to keep my brownstone. Can you believe it? I paid off my mortgage decades ago but I've still gotta answer to those schmucks. Worst thing is that now bourbon tastes horrible; even the good stuff. Anyway, I met this charming young lady while at the park today..."
Twilight loved reading about subjects that were unfamiliar to her; every new book was a new adventure.
So why did it feel like she was hitting nothing but dead ends?
Every book she could find about World War III, or even World War II, was either about the social or political ramifications of the wars or about the technological developments that sprung from them; neither of which was what she was looking for. What these books failed to answer were the questions that dealt with the people doing the fighting on a personal level: Why were they fighting? What was it like? How could they kill another living being? How did they cope?
Even when the soldiers themselves talked about it in autobiographies or interviews, they flowed smoothly over it. It was like they had grown scar tissue over their experiences.
Manipulating the computer terminal, she tried searching for veterans who still lived in either New York or New Jersey.
"Four people? How can there be only four people in the entire two states?"
Inspecting their records further, she screamed in frustration. They were all Petty Officers in the Coast Guard, all on-base technicians, none of them having ever been involved in any conflicts.
Tired of staring at yet another dead end, Twilight got up and began roaming through the massive archive. No matter how troublesome, a walk among the stacks always seemed to help her when dealing with a problem. In a library as old as this one, though, it made her feel extra energized. The smell of the musty air, the thought of being surrounded by centuries of accrued knowledge and experience, the unspoiled serenity; all reminders of the half-jocular question that bobbled around her head ever since she was a filly: "Why wasn't my cutie mark a book?"
She knew why, of course. Magic was her true calling, not books. Twilight loved books, she appreciated books, and, for a time, considered books to be her best friends. But, even though she surrounded herself with books and even lived in a library, she was not, under any uncertain terms, a librarian.
No. To be a librarian, you had to truly know books. You had to know the library system inside and out. You had to-
"Need help finding something in particular?" said a mans voice from behind her. Twilight jumped straight up, her hair momentarily standing on end.
-had to be a fucking ninja, apparently.
"Whoa," the young man said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "sorry about that; didn't mean to spook you."
Once Twilight could breath again, she looked at him as he stared at her. In his early thirties at the latest, his face wore a bemused expression behind a pair of think black rimmed glasses and mussed up hair.
"You're human," she said, half asking half stating.
Feeling around his face with mock astonishment, he gasped, "Why so I am!" He smiled cheekily.
"But why are you here?"
"Well, I'm a Librarian. Where else should I be?" He laughed, "You mean, 'Why aren't you ponified?' Unfortunately, I can't be ponified yet."
"You mean-"
"Yep, I'm the proud owner of a cyberbrain implant," he turned his head and lifted up some of the hair covering his neck and revealed a small data plug, "Pretty cool, huh? If ponification hadn't become an option so soon after it's release, I guarantee you we'd have full cyborg bodies roaming the street a few years from now." he shrugged, "Oh well."
"I thought the island was completely occupied by ponies? Where do you live?" she asked.
The man cringed, "Well, officially I live in Yonkers."
Twilight smiled, "And unofficially?"
"...I live in Director's office."
"You what? Doesn't the Director mind?"
He laughed, this time even louder, "Miss, you're looking at him!"
"You're the Director of the Library?!"
"Well, by default."
Twilight's expression quickly changed from surprised to skeptical, "'By default'?"
He shrugged again, "Everyone else got ponified. Who else was going to look after the place?"
Twilight stared at the ground, "Oh... I suppose so..."
The man rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of her, "Okay, enough sad face. What are you looking for?"
"I just found out about memorial day, so I wanted to learn why a holiday about death and war would be something people would want to celebrate. Death of loved ones, sure, but war?"
"The reason you can't understand is because your reasoning is flawed. Memorial Day isn't a celebration; it's exactly what it sounds like: a memorial. It's to honor the dead, not celebrate their deaths."
"But why would people fight in wars in the first place? Why kill another living being? How can they..." She paused, "I supposed that's all I really want to know."
"Ah," said the man, taking off his glasses to clean them, "now that is the question, isn't it? I think I know what you need. Give me a moment to look for it."
As he finished the sentence, his eyes seemed to glaze over, then began darting back and forth, from one side to the other. When his eyes refocused, a look of disappoint took the place of his once knowing smile, "Well, that's disappointing. I looked though the system for what we had on war diaries."
"War diaries?"
"Yes; they were either journals that soldiers had kept during their service or just compiled letters sent from the front. Unfortunately, it seems they were lost in the attacks during World War III."
"What about diaries from World War III?" Twilight asked, hopeful.
"The ones donated to our library system were all digitally stored and were lost during the second Cold War. I can submit a requisition to the Library of Congress for whatever they have, but all requisitions from non-system libraries have to be approved manually," his smirk returned, "and that may take... a very long time."
Twilight facehoofed, "Another dead end..."
"You know," the librarian began, "There's a war memorial not too far from here. If you like, I can print you directions and whatever supplementary data I can find..."
The unicorn smiled, "Thank you, that would be great."
Reaching for a small box clipped to his belt, he pulled out a retracting cable and plugged it into the base of his skull. Soon, the little printer had outputted six pages which were soon levitated into Twilight's saddlebag.
"Thank you, Mister..."
"Readman. Johnathan Readman."
Twilight cracked a barely noticeable smirk, "Thank you, Mr. Readman, for all your help," she began walking towards the elevators, "Have a good day!"
"You too!"
Twilight walked through the remote part of New Central Park, following the directions until she arrived at the memorial.
It wasn't anything ornate; nothing fancy. Just a wall of white marble, about twenty or so feet long by seven feet high, set among a backdrop of trees. Strewn around it were bouquets of various sizes, a flag or two, and a few trinkets left for someone in particular. But as the sun set behind it, it's silhouette cast a long shadow in front of it, covering Twilight and seemingly reaching out to the rest of the park, proclaiming it's presence on this day most of all.
She examined the stone wall and noticed that it was not perfectly smooth, as it appeared to be from a distance, but had writing etched into it's surface, divided into dozens and dozens of columns, each line only an inch or so high, going down its length.
She started from the top left and read the inscription.
"This memorial is to serve as a reminder of those honored few who died serving our great nation. The names inscribed onto this stone have been selected from the compiled list of KIAs (Killed in Action) spanning all three World Wars for their exceptional valor and proficiency in the field. Their sacrifices will be forever noted here with the hope that future generations will look on them as an example of human excellence and choose to follow their own path with the same level of commitment and strength."
Twilight wiped her eyes of the tears that had begun forming. After reading that short paragraph and taking in its meaning, not just its words, the whole scene felt different to her. The flowers and other items left there were no long the leavings of passersby, but messages. Each one said "thank you" or "we miss you" or "you'll never be forgotten".
But despite this, despite her newfound respect for those whose names were now forever a part of that white stone monument, she couldn't understand why. Why the violence and the bloodshed and the bombings? If only she could know them so she could see it from their point of view.
She paused.
"...see it from their point of view!"
When studying magic in Cantorlot, Twilight practically lived in the library. After living in Ponyville, and then all spending all that time helping set up the various conversion bureaus, it had been too long since she had last visited the Royal Library. She took in the greatness of it all with a new appreciation that she had gained through her absence.
Her visit to the Royal Library was not arbitrary. Of all the libraries in all of Equestria, it alone held the special distinction of being the only one authorized to have books on the subject of the Advanced Mental Magics. These books did not cover magics like psychokinesiss, teleportation, or other types of banal mental magic; Almost every library had books on those. No; These books were about magics of a restricted sort: feats like telepathy, telemagnesis, and pyrokinesis. In short, magic that required the user to be more responsible than your average unicorn. And while the dangers of these sorts of spells were taught at any school with a unicorn population, the effects of them were only actually demonstrated at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns.
This demonstration was done only once a year and was often the most traumatic thing a young unicorn would ever see in their life. In a large arena, a pony-shaped dummy would have a "Motion to the Motionless" spell cast upon it and allowed to walk around inside a small, metal pen with a stone floor. After it was painstakingly explained to the youths that it was "just a dummy and not a real pony", there would be a pause.
And then it happened.
The instructor's horn would glow and the dummy would burst into flames. It had no mouth, so it couldn't scream, but it ran around inside the pen, trying to jump over the bars that were just too high. It would slam against the walls in an attempt to break them, but a stuffed patchworkamalgamationn of burlap and cotton could never have enough mass to accomplish that. It would soon begin writhing on the floor as the fire ate through its "skin" and, eventually, become nothing more than a pile of ashes atop a slightly scorched patch of stone. As terrible as this display was, the emotional scarring of those countless youths was rationalized by the hope that the trauma of the event would cause anypony considering learning those dangerous forms of magic into thinking twice.
As Twilight approached oft-avoided section of the library, she paused before entering, thinking back to the image of the immolated pony shaped form. Shaking the terrifying thought away, she proceeded into the row of shelves. While searching through the titles of the books, Twilight made a mental note to ask Princess Celestia to have the library implement the Dewey Decimal System. While the humans may have wrecked their environment, she could never thank them enough for the DDS. After carefully searching for what felt like ages, she finally found a book that looked promising: "The Colossal Compendium of Cross-Species Communication".
According to the preface, it was originally written to help aid communication between ponies and species that were typically unable to do so, such as certain animals from the Everfree Forest.
"But," Twilight thought, "Humans are a different species, so it might still apply."
Putting the book into her saddlebag, she stopped at the circulation desk to check it out, then left the library and headed towards Ponyville.
Spike peered over the edge of the book as Twilight held it aloft.
"Twilight, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, have you ever tried this spell before?"
"Well, no," she admitted, "but it's not a particularly hard spell. I'm sure I won't have any trouble."
Spike looked at her nervously, "Well, alright..."
Standing calmly in the center of her library, Twilight began to concentrate on the spell she had chosen from the large tome. The original version was just to give one insight in an animal's point of view, but that wasn't specific enough for her tastes, so she modified it slightly so that it would focus on one particular issue.
"Here we go," Focusing on one of the names from the list of names on the memorial, her horn began to glow.
A cacophony erupted all around Twilight as various explosions and other noises filled the air. She spun herself around, trying to take in her surroundings and understand what was happening. She was standing on wet sand behind a barricade shaped like a one of the jacks she played with as a filly. There were soldiers in brown uniforms and dome shaped helmets everywhere, running up the beach towards some cliffs, but they kept falling, cut down by the gun emplacements.
She looked around, terrified.
Twilight began running around helplessly, trying to get away from the myriad of explosions and gunfire.
Suddenly an arm reached up and yanked her down to the ground behind another one of those jacks just as sand began flying up nearby.
"Best keep low!" shouted a decidedly country voice over the rattling of gunfire. The young soldier lay prone against the sand, keeping himself as well hidden as he could behind the minimal cover. He extended his hand to her, "Pleasure ta meet ya Miss Sparkle! Private James Ross, United States First Army!"
"Where am I? How do you know who I am? What's going on?!"
"World War Two! June 6th, 1944, Omaha Beach, Normandy! You're here because you wanted to know why I fought in the war, why I did what I did, and why I died doing it!" He looked around briefly and took a quick drink of water from his canteen, "Look, I've gotta reconnect with the rest of my unit so we're gonna have ta skidaddle!"
The terror on her face instantly magnified as she put her forearms over her head. She didn't want to leave the protective shield of the barrier.
"I can't!" She shouted back to him.
"Don't worry, the bullets won't hurt you and I'm the only one who can see you, but you need to stay close. I don't want you gettin lost." He got up into a crouch, "Ready?"
Twilight rose to her hooves, looked around nervously, then nodded, fear still filling her eyes.
James took a deep breath and lifted his rifle, "Go!"
As they ran up the beach, Twilight could feel the heavy fire from the emplacements whizzing past her ears. In almost every direction she looked, the scene was becoming more and more horrifying. Soldiers were being shot down in droves; some died with a massive splatter of blood, some with a fine pink mist, and some just slumping over with a brand new hole in their helmets. She saw one man huddling his own severed arm against his chest as he ran, only to be thrown by another explosion.
It was all too much. Tears began to stream from her eyes as she ran, trying to follow James through the maze of dead bodies that littered the beach.
"How can people do this to each other?!" She shrieked.
James didn't turn to her, but kept running as he answered, "Because they're told to, because they're told that the other guy's gonna do the same to them otherwise... can't say I really know."
They finally reached a short dirt barrier throwing distance away the concrete walls of the bunkers. The quickly laid themselves perpendicular to it, next to more than a dozen other soldiers.
"Why are you doing this? You can stop!"
"No, I can't. We depend on each other. I watch out for them and they watch out for me."
A hand grabbed James on the shoulder from behind and began turning him, "Sergeant Michael Addison, Alpha company, Who are you?"
"Private James Ross, Fox Company, Sir!"
"Well, Now we've got a little of everyone!" the soldier replied sardonically.
"Are you in command, sir?" Ross asked.
"For the time being," he scanned James, "Where are your grenades and sidearm?"
"We had to go over the sides. I hit the bottom pretty hard so I guess the channel ate em."
Sgt. Addisson looked around, then faced straight up, "Alright everyone listen up!" he hollered, "We need weapons, ammo, and anything else you can grab!"
Twilight shrieked, "He's sending you back out?!"
Ross turned to Twilight, "We need what we need." James then got up and started running back down the beach, ignoring obvious guns and ammunition, as Twilight cased after him.
"Where are you going?!"
"I saw a few Bangalores when we were running up; I'm gonna try and get em!"
"Bangalores?"
"Torpedoes in a pipe! Powerful stuff!"
"Torpedoes?!"
"Big Boom!"
Ross spotted the dark green pipes and ran towards them. He pulled the body off of them and picked up the three five-foot sections, running back up the beach.
The pipes were heavy. He was slower.
Too slow.
As they neared the barrier, no more than ten feet away, several shots hit James in the stomach and side. Twilight watched as he stumbled and fell forward, dropping the valuable weapon in the sand ahead.
She fell to her knees and flipped him over.
James clutched his stomach and cringed; He was still alive. Four men swarmed him, one grabbing the Bangalore and running back to the barrier while the other three stayed behind.
Twilight watched as the three soldiers opened his vest and his shirt, noticing the red crosses on their helmets. They worked silently as the gunfire rattled past them.
"It hurts! Dammit it hurts!" James screamed.
"Don't talk, don't move! We need to stop the bleeding! That's the best we can do for now," said one of the medics.
"This one is being stubborn! Clamps!"
"Hurry up!" called the soldiers from the barrier.
"I've got it! I've stopped the bleeding! Let’s-"
There was a dull "ping" as a hole appeared in the top of James' helmet.
The medic began swearing and yelling like a madman as the other two gathered up their supplies, grabbed James' gun, and ran back to the line.
Twilight fell on top of James and began crying, "It isn't fair! He was so close! He would have made it! It isn't fair!"
Suddenly, James stood next to her, looking over his own body.
"Hey now, don't cry."
Twilight screamed and pushed herself backwards in the sand, "But- But you died!"
"Yeah, I did. But it's okay," he pointed back to the barrier, "Look over there."
Twilight watched as soldiers assembled the Bangalore that James was carrying. They lit the fuse and, before long, a massive explosion rang out, throwing sand and dirt into the air, giving the rest of the troops hiding behind the barrier the opportunity to climb over and move further up the beach now that the troops atop the bunker had fled.
"See?" he asked, the sounds of the fighting now dull and distant,
"But you still died!"
"But I'm just one person. Just a small part of that big team."
"But you still died!" she screamed, pleading at him, as if trying to make him understand, "You threw your life away!"
"Twilight, I didn't throw my life away. I just died. And, even though I died, all of those men can now move forward and keep fighting." He kneeled down to her, "Before you can ever understand why we fought, you need to understand that death is a part of war. No one who goes into a war comes out unaffected by death. It is as much a part of war as life."
At that point, there was no more talking to her. She just cried.
"...I've never seen anything like this before- Oh, she waking up! Twilight! Are you okay? Can you hear me, dear?"
"Huh?" she said, slowly sitting up. After a few seconds, the white mare earth pony slowly focused into view, "Nurse Redheart?"
Regaining her bearings, she looked around at all of her friends surrounding her, "What's going on?"
"You fainted!" Spike shouted, "When I couldn't wake you up, I sent Owlowiscious with a note telling Nurse Redheart to come over quickly! Then he went and got everyone else."
"You've been unconscious for nearly an hour but your horn was lit up the entire time!" said the nurse, "Whatever you were doing, it taxed your body terribly."
As the rest of her friends began talking, asking her questions, Twilight began tuning out, remembering seeing the bullets hit James and the medics trying to stop the blood and that last bullet...
She fell to the floor and began sobbing, "It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair..."
