Surprised
Sometimes we just need to talk to somebody.
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34th Day of Summer - 992 Year of Post Harmonic Era
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My hooves hit the city’s cobbled path with a clatter. I gallop as fast as I can without endangering the contents of my saddlebags. I hardly notice the protests of the pedestrians I bump and startle as I charge down the sidewalk. My heart beats fast, in-part due to the exertion, but even more because of the excitement. The afternoon sun shines in my eyes and I barely manage to keep down the giddy squeal of excitement.
I grip my saddlebag in my mouth, using the finely tuned muscles in my neck to stabilize the cutie-mark emblazoned pouches. Dry purple cloth feels weird on my tongue and it feels strange to gallop with so much weight dangling from my muzzle. It probably would have been best to take out those textbooks before running to and from the hardware store. The thought hadn't crossed my mind, too overwhelmed by the long list of things I needed to do before the clock struck 2:40.
I had spent the day with Princess Celestia. While I normally love our lessons, I had been too distracted by today’s plans to really enjoy my time with her. Then there was the agonizingly slow cart ride from the palace. Were this any other day, the beautiful view of the equestrian countryside, with the shadows of clouds dancing across green slopes, would have been lovely to stare it. I had passed the time by reviewing my schematics and skimming my books for any part of Electro-Thuamatic theory that I was still uncertain about. Then there were the minutes I wasted convincing my parents to lend me ten bits. The three months of allowance I had saved wouldn’t be enough and there was no way I was waiting another eight days for the next window. I had explained everything to the clerk at Nuts n’ Bolts yesterday, so buying the parts was the quickest part of the whole day.
All that left was the hard sprint back to the loft. Pouring myself into my pounding hooves, I can almost see the sun actually moving towards the westward horizon. The clock was ticking. Still, the feeling of the sun on my back and the sight of that little blue half-circle in the clear blue sky spurred me on. Warm wind through my mane and the smell of the summer heat. I grinned around the cloth strap as my heart gorged itself on the feeling of endless glee.
I was through threshold of my house a heart-beat later.
“Hrrreey Murrm! Darrd! I’m herm!” I shout with my teeth still clenched around the saddlebag strap.
“Hey sweety,” my dad calls from the kitchen, “How was you-”
But I’m already up the stairs, climbing with just enough care to avoid damaging my precious cargo. The ladder to the loft has already been pulled down from the ceiling, and in a flash I’m in the attic. Chest heaving, I go right to pulling out my loot. Out first is a large capacitor and a large resistor, both with variable knobs to allow for critical fine tuning came. Following them came the two textbooks, entry level electrical engineering and electrical physics respectively. I set them aside begrudgingly. At least now they might help me rather than hinder me. Finally, with overly ginger hooves, I draw out a set of small boxes one at a time. Three are a set of vacuum tubes, replacements to ones that had melted last time I put everything together. I had cried bitterly the night that had happened. My eyes linger on a shelf next to the attic window where the three little ash-filled glass bulbs sit to reminding always to take precaution. The last one is a box of fuses, my single safeguard for preventing the same catastrophe from happening again.
I pick up the boxes with my magic, the weak levitation barely managing to handle all four objects. The Princess has been trying hard to help me get better with my magic, but it was slow progress. With a spark or two coming off my horn, I connect the vacuum tubes to the circuit sprawled out across the floor.
This was my crown jewel. My magnum opus. Bare wires sit in what would seem like a tangle to any other pony. The charged metal on wood was likely a major fire hazard but insulated wire was far too expensive. Too heavy to be lifted my magic, I use two hooves to link the resistor, capacitor and homemade inductor into the circuit at their respective places. I screw the vacuum tubes in one at a time and then pull a single fuse from the cardboard container. It slips into its slot with a satisfying click.
I had spent the better half of a year hoof-drawing schematics using only textbooks as guides. I had nagged a professor at Canterlot University to look at my design, returning on twelve separate occasions until I got it right. The tangle performs a relatively simple logical function. It had taken everything short of a piece of my soul to make it work. And it had worked. For the few beautiful minutes before the circuits overloaded, I had been serenaded by the sounds and melodies of a land totally disconnected from Equestria.
I had built a radio. If the average pony looked at all of my effort I am investing just to build a radio, they would probably laugh themselves silly.
A century ago, a physicist drew a connection between electricity running through a wire and a strange magical sensation that anypony could feel. They named this strange influence electro-thuamatic radiation. Two decades ago, a pony named Good Macaroni was inspired by the same anomaly that I am now dabbling with. He used that little inspiration to contrive a way for radiation to transmit messages over great distances. Today, every other home has a radio set. Regularly scheduled shows and news broadcasts have quickly become a regular part of a pony’s day.
But the circuit I'm made is more than just a standard Equestrian radio.
A tingle in my horn brings my focus back to the present. The anomaly is about to begin.
The tingle builds in my horn as I hurry to fetch the battery I built myself. It was a crude thing, tabs metal that I have salvaged, placed in an ionizing agent made from a mix of household cleaning chemicals. It was another stupidly dangerous thing that I had no choice in using. I hook it up to the radio’s terminal and a pink crystal glows as it converts the power into an alternating current. The circuit is alive. The vacuum tubes glow with a white hot light and an electric hum rises to match the hum in my head. The room is livid with energies.
I slide into the radio’s ‘operating seat’, a patch of bare floor between the circuit and the window. I can feel the hum in my horn transform into a steady throb. It’s a difficult sensation to parse, like a slow massage on my brain. I can’t help but remember that this is the same feeling that led Macaroni to understand the utility of radio-waves. I look up through the window to the orbs in the sky and imagine that the Sun and Oceana are arranged exactly like they were when Macaroni drew that critical connection between the strange blue planet and this pulsing phenomenon.
With a hoof, I turn the resistor’s variable knob. With a coughing crackle, my scavenged speakers begin to sing an orchestral tune, a recording common to the Equestrian airwaves. But that’s not the frequency I want. I move my hoof to the capacitor. Twisting the knob to increase capacitance, I begin scanning upwards through the spectrum. The the quick and happy symphony is slowly buried in a rush of static.
The thrum in my horn reaches a crescendo. The resonance is so strong that I can feel it in my magically insensitive hooves. I think to myself that Macaroni, after years of experiencing this phenomenon alongside the rest of ponykind, realized that the event only occurred when the Sun and Oceana aligned in a very specific way.
For an instant, a sound breaks through the static. Its harmonious and orderly but sounds as if from a deep well of sloshing water. There isa melody buried in the static. Behind it is the shadow of an echo of a rhythm. I keep tuning the frequency of my circuit upward. My heart beats harder as if trying to match the throbbing in my horn.
Results like this was still nothing too special. During an anomaly, every radio in Equestria would be momentarily overcome by similar ghostly notes hidden in static. Macaroni was the first to realize that the position of Sun compared to Oceana was allowing a their waves to reach us. He built a device that could receive those waves. When he used it for the first time, what he heard then was probably similar to what I was hearing now. A phantom of order from an origin unknown. Voices hidden in the static, speaking in un-equine tongues. He destroyed his devices immediately. Luckily, radio-waves of that frequency didn't travel well in our atmosphere. That portion of the spectrum would never be accessed by an equestrian radio. It was a convenient excuse to never build a machine like his ever again.
Until now, that is. That was the difference between the radio downstairs and the components buzzing around me. This machine received frequencies that no ordinary radio was made to receive.
I rotate the capacitor’s dial with delicate slowness now. The static bleeds away like a suddenly clearing migraine.
“Psssshhhzzzaa-although I wasn’t th-sshpphhffzzzssshhhiizzziiphhhfff said I was a friend.” I stop. My hooves freeze in their place. The hair on the back of my neck prickles as I listen to the sound pour from the speakers. Instruments I couldn’t name - couldn’t imagine - played with eerie clarity. The melody was unlike anything conceived by pony minds. The notes ring out, strange in their purity and pattern. “Which came as a surprise, I spoke into his eyes. I thought you died alone, a long long tim-ssshhaazzziiivvvzzzffffsssss”
I am motionless for a moment longer, entranced by the alien voice still echoing in my head. It is only when the static returns in its full cacophony that I realize that I have lost the sound to the fuzz.
For whatever reason, the Sun interfered with the signal from Oceana in a way that allowed me to hear it. But since the planet and the Sun never stopped moving, the signals from the planet were constantly migrating across the spectrum. That was my running theory anyway, no pony actually knew. A standard radio could only ever pick up an Oceanan signal on accident and only for a brief moment as the signal slid through the radio’s narrow band of reception. This was the second aspect of my device that made it unique to Equestria. With capacitor in hoof, I could chase the frequency.
My hoof goes to the capacitor again and I spin the dial deftly.
“Ttthhhss-ace to fac-sshhhzzz-”
“zzz-looks like it’s going to be sunny with a thirty percen-ttssssshhh”
“Sshh- let us dispel the notion that the president has no idea wha-zzziiipphh”
I roll through the spectrum. Babbling voices and strange tunes pass one by one like carriages passing me in the street. They start as whispers from a great distance and then grow in clarity and detail as they near. Then, just as quickly, the disappear into the distance again. I narrow my eyes, focusing on trying to keep pace with a single frequency.
“sshhhhshh- ere, up there in the vastness of space, in the void in the sky, up there is an-zzzzzzzz-s isolation. It sits there is the stars, waiting, wa-ashshhhzzzzfff.” I grin in triumph as I manage to track the frequency even as it moves. I can’t tell what the pony is saying, but somehow I can hear the drama that is thick in their voice. I know that I am listening to a single pony as they speak to an audience. It's meaningless garble, but I feel myself hanging on every intonation. “zzzsshh-patience of eons, forever waiting-sshhhttss-in the Twilight Zone.“ Is it a political speech, I wonder? Perhaps it is a pony recounting a traumatic event from history. Maybe it is a eulogy for a fallen king. It could be the retelling war story written by a legendary warrior.
I could be eavesdropping on anything, I realize. The entire unknown culture of this foreign world unfolds in my imagination. Every meaningless babble from the radio becomes a love song, a word of great wisdom, and a spiteful declaration of war all at once. I wish so badly to know what they are saying.
The dial stops rotating. I realize with dismay that I can’t turn the knob any further. It has reached its limit. Reluctantly, I withdraw my hoof from the dial and listen as the different signals rolled past me. There is nothing I could do besides sit and listen as they pass.
“Ttthhhss-It’s a disgrace, Tom. He’s making a mockery of our count-sshhhzzz-”
“zzz-I’m seeing traffic jams all along I-15, in and out of th-thhhsshh”
Eventually, the first frequency I stubbled upon began rising out of the static. The same haunting melody ringing out boldly. The voice drones on in melancholy.
“Who knows? Not me. We never lost control. Your face, to face, with the man who so-zzziiipphhhhssssshhhhhzzzzz.”
The voice fades away. I glanced out the window once more. The Sun seems imperceptibly closer to the blue planet. Its powerful energies shout over the delicate radio signal. It’s gone now, completely out of reach until the next alignment.
“zzzzzziiisshhhZZZZFFFFFFSSSSHH-”
Feedback builds with stuttering violence. Radiation from the Sun floods the antenna with power. A crackling sizzle emanates from my circuit. With a pop, the fuse burns out and the speakers go quiet. The faint scent of smoke fills my nostrils but I barely notice. In my head I am already scheming. I will find a way to understand those words.
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71st Day of Winter - 993 Year of Post Harmonic Era
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Warm air rushes through my long brown hair as I speed across the gently sloped prairie. My bike's two stroke engine whines hard as I twist the throttle. Ahead of me, a fathomless expanse of golden wild grass stretches across the dusty land until it meets a rocky mountain range far in the distance. The thin dry stalks whip at my legs as I zip through the field. Every breath pulls in air filled with the hardy smell of sun-baked grasslands. My motorbike’s spinning wheels kick out a thick contrail of dust behind me.
With a bump and a little airtime, I break clear of the endless grass and land on a dirt road. The single lane path seemed to share the field's lack of concern regarding distance and time, meandered without end around the shallow hills. I put my throttle to full. Near the base of the mountain range, a single row of stark white structures stand like giant cereal bowls on pedestals. The distance disguises their massive size. When I finally reach them, the wire frame bowls and the complex steel scaffolding loom hundreds of feet above me.
I head to the end of the row of great ivory dishes. Clean and blocky, three stories tall and painted to match the dishes was a mundane looking office building. I pull into the tiny gravel parking lot, flick out the kickstand, and cut the engine. My white and pink sneakers squeak as I shove through the front door. “Hey dad, I’m here!” I yell to the whole building. Most of the lights are off and the AC is clearly running on full. It’s a stark and revealing contrast to the summer afternoon outside. I run past the empty lobby and up a flight of stairs before arriving at a set of offices. Through the narrow windows on the doors I can see that most of the offices are dark. One at the end of the, my dad’s, still glows with fluorescent light.
As I approach, I can see my dad obliviously hammering away at a keyboard in front of a fat computer screen. He wears a plaid shirt and green slacks with a pen tucked behind his ear. Even when he sits, it is clear he is tall with a gangly frame.
Ha, dad, you're such a nerd. Looks like I got all of my ‘cool genes’ from mom’s side.
I barge in and wrap him with a hug.
“Hey kiddo, happy birthday!” he says warmly. “You having fun riding around out there?”
“Heck yeah I am. I went down to check out the reservoir down in the valley and then I found these neat little woods. I walked around for a while but I ran when I heard a grizzly bear!”
“A grizzly bear?” He asked skeptically, “in the desert?Hmm...it must be one of those rare sand bears.”
“U’huh! It was super dangerous!” I exclaim with an exaggerated arm gesture. “I think I want to go check it out some more tomorrow.”
He smiles and musses up my windblown hair. “Alright Jess, but only if you promise me you’ll be careful. School starts back up in two weeks and we can’t have you getting mauled before we have a chance to meet your teachers.” The reminder of the quickly closing summer brings my high-flying mood down a notch. I can’t help but grimace at the thought of spending the next nine months in a crowded room being lectured by teachers that wanted to be there less than I did. I make no effort to hide my disappointment.
Dad puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me close. “Pumpkin, I know that you're not a fan of school. Your mother told me about Cindy and the other girls...” I feel his hand squeeze my shoulder a bit as he says it. “I just think, well, middle school is a brand new place. Maybe you’ll find some new friends there. It could be a chance to start again...”
“I guess so...” I try, but I’m not so optimistic.
“Eh,” he says, sliding out of the serious tone, “well enough of that. I’ve got a birthday surprise for you!”
That's right! The surprise!
It is surprising me how easily the melancholy melts away. Maybe it shouldn’t be though, guesses and idle wonderings about the mysterious surprise have been playing through my head ever since I overheard dad talking about last Sunday. “A surprise?” I do my best to feign ignorance. “What is it, what did you get me! Did you buy me a new tape-player?! Oh-Oh, maybe you finally got a VCR for the television. Or maybe a-”
“Easy there champ. And no to all of that. Well, Your mother has a few presents at home, but that's not what this is. This will be something completely different.” I wasn’t sure, but I could almost hear a touch of boyish excitement. “Here, come with me, I’m gunna show you.” He grabs my hand and leads me out of the room and down the hall. We pass dark meeting rooms and break rooms. The only sound is the soft hiss of the vents channeling cool air.
“Where is everybody, Dad?”
“Well, lets see...Bill and Kerry are off today. I told Kate and the intern that they could leave early since all the reports are done and we haven’t picked up a new assignment in two days. That just leaves my Boss who only ever comes in if something goes wrong or if he’s trying to impress somebody. Your mom got the day of so she could go shopping and set up a little something for you at home. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, by the way, so make sure you act like it’s a surprise when we get home.”
I nod. “They let you take off time to go to birthdays?”
“Well...no,” he admitted with a chuckle, “she called in sick.” He shoots me a goofy grin and I can’t keep from giggling. We pass through a set of heavy metal double doors and into a room that contains panel after panel of buttons, screens and switches. Directly ahead, set into the far wall, is a massive window that grants a perfect view of the giant white dishes. He doesn’t flip on the lights as we enter, but the bright light of the shining panorama behind the glass is enough to let us see.
“Welcome to the control room. I know you’ve seen it once or twice, but I’ve never really had a chance to show you what I do here.”
Aww, he wants to tell me all about his wacky electronics. He really is just a big nerd.
I don't know where this is going, but I can tell he want so badly for me to love it. I try to play along. “Umm...I guess I’ve always wanted to know what all this stuff does. Are you going to show me what those big building do?”
I can see a real grin starting from the corner of his mouth. “Here sweety,” he points to a swivel chair position at the center of the room. “Take a seat and look out that window.” I hop up into the cushiony chair. This high off the ground I barely manage to use my toes to stop me from spinning. I can hear Dad working away at the controls, the clicks of switches and buttons loud in the otherwise silent room.
All of a sudden, I see movement. The third dish in the line of eight begins rotating slowly while the dish itself starts to tilt upward. I can’t believe something so big can move so fluidly.
“Umm, Dad...won’t you get in trouble for messing with their stuff?”
“What’s that? Oh, naw. Dish Three doesn’t have a set task right now and I’m the only one in this office that actually checks the activity logs. Can't get in trouble if they don't try to catch me.”
What could he be planning.
I feel something bulky slip over my head to cover my ears. I reach up to feel what I could only guess was the largest pair of headphones I’d ever seen. My fingers trace a thick curly wire to a port in the large electronic panel before me. A hand slips one of the ear covers off so I can hear what he is saying.
“Okay, so let me explain. I’ve been working for some time on a large government project. They have us investigating Terra. It’s why your mom and I haven’t been able to tell you much about what we do at work. I’ve always wanted show you what we do here, but I’m sure you understand why we couldn’t. It’s just how the government operates when it comes to things as important as this. We could get in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out exactly what we use these telescopes for.”
I stay quiet, absorbing everything he says.
“We use these radio telescopes to look at Terra. They work by picking up these invisible light waves and drawing very detailed pictures. Almost everything that happens up there, from a pool party to a campfire, we can see. For most part, me and your mother watch the people up there and try our best to understand them.”
“Dad, you shouldn’t be telling me this. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Jess,” he says with a soft smile, “I trust you more than anybody I know. I know you won’t tell anyone. I guess we’re doing this because everything about Terra is very important to us. I think someday soon the things on that planet will be even more important to you as well. We want you to know everything about that world, even if we’re not actually supposed to be telling you.”
I suddenly felt very nervous. What could be this important? My Dad almost never acts this serious. Could what he is saying really be true? Will the things he wants to show me actually change my life that much? “Okay Dad...but...I don’t think I get it. What could be up there that is this important.”
“I’m going to show you.” I feel a hand slip the headphones back over my ears. My dad moves to the front of the room and begins working a computer stationed there. I can see the screen display a set of graphs. Another screen depicts a set of overlapping wavey charts with lines in constant motion.
I am startled by a crackle of sound in my ears. Its static, like from an untuned radio. But as the seconds pass the static dies down and I hear a sound I’ve never heard before. Its an instrument, I think. It pulls and calls with long notes that seem off-key. Yet, somehow the melody seems natural. The pacing and order is seems so perfect. It seems more likely that this song was plucked from a tree in an untamed grove than assembled in the mind of a person. It’s joined by other sounds. Hums like heart of the earth and a gently rising and falling tone that reminds me of the Aurora Borealis.
And then voices break through. They sound like nothing I could have ever imagined. It's a quartet, i think, and it swells and sways in a harmonic dance that is so unlike anything that could possible exist on Earth. I can’t even imagine what they look like, and there’s no doubt they're ignorant pt my eavesdropping, yet I feel like they are singing just for me. A part of me feels as though I am violating something sacred with my trespass. A greater part of me feels a calling, a sense of great need and unsatisfied belonging. It was as if I just realized I was starving.
The song ends to soon and is replaced by a voice talking in the same alien tongue. I listen to them speak about nameless things for an unmeasured time. I imagine that the speaker is discussing any number of subjects. It is startlingly easy to imagine that the speaker is talking to me. I can’t summarize the feelings of comfort, intimacy and thorough confusion that slosh around inside me.
The conversation is slowly drowned in rising static. The feed eventually cuts off, leaving me to marinate in the silence of these sudden feelings. I take a few minutes to collect myself. I can see that my dad is waiting patiently by the console. Slowly, I remove the headphones and set them on the desk.
“D-dad, that was.....”
“That was a signal received from Terra. The guys and I have heard that song before. It’s...something else isn’t it…”
I feel awkwardly exposed after the experience. “Ye..yeah, it is…” I giggle, there was something funny about the casualness of how he said that. An impulse of something that I deeply want to do rises to my mind. “H-hey Dad?”
“Yeah sweety?”
“I want to talk to them.”
“...You want to what?”
“I want to send them a message, I’m sure we can.”
“Lots of people have tried that Jess. Decades and millions of dollars. As far as anyone can tell, they can’t hear us. If they can hear us, then they haven’t done anything to talk back.”
“I still want to send something. I’ve got to try!”
He paused to think for a while. “Well, if we do this then we’ve got to make sure our message is absolutely perfect." He sighs and scratches his head. With a chuckle, he says "I should have known you'd say that. You know, we will have to be very smart about this message if we want them to understand us. We'll have to work hard on making the perfect message to send them. Well, If you really want to do this, well...I think I might just know some people that can help....”
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92nd Day of Fall - 994 Year of Post Harmonic Era
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The path to my house has recently been shoveled clear of snow. Instead of taking the sidewalk, I opt to trot through the untarnished icy fluff that covers the front yard. I kick through the knee high layers of powder, feeling the crystals soak my fur as they melt. I push the front door open with a hoof and step inside. A petite white unicorn with a purple-streaked mane is standing in the living room, watering a set of small potted plants with a drinking cup.
“Hi Mom!”
“Good afternoon dear,” she says with a wave, “how were today’s lessons.”
“Oh, they were amazing. Princess Celestia taught me all about the major philosophies of the first harmonic era. Then, after we had tea, she showed me some examples of how our alliance with Griffonia affected equestrian paint and sculpture!”
“That sounds lovely dear.”
“It definitely wa-” I stop as I realize the time. I turn to hurry up the stairs, calling back as I step into a canter. “I’ll tell you about it later, I’ve got to use my radio!”
“Alright Twilight, just be careful okay? Your dad still thinks that playing with all those wires is too dangerous.”
I was already up the stairs and making my way into the loft. I’ve had a few serious talks with my parents about my hobby. They weren’t happy when they saw the mess of un-insulated wiring strung about the attic. They were even less happy when I told them that I was using it to listen to aliens. In the end, they relented, but only if I promised to make my set-up a little safer. They also made me promise to report anything strange I heard to Princess Celestia. I still haven’t told the Princess about my experiments. I just didn’t want to bring it up until I had something concrete to report. I really wanted my research to impress her.
I plop down beside my equipment and begin what has by now become something of a ritual. I check every components for fatigue. I pull slightly on each wire, making sure their connections are sound. A few things have changed since I first got the radio to work a little more than a year ago. I’ve got a real battery now, a heavy block with a metal case. The wires are insulated now, as per my parents insistence. In addition, two more antenna of precise shapes and lengths join the original hanging from my window. They allow me to chase the signal for longer and with greater clarity.
I'm here earlier than usual. I still have twenty minutes until the alignment starts, but I flip the switch anyway. Just as always, I plop myself down at the control station, now complete with a comfy pillow to sit on. The grating buzz of static starts up from the speakers. It’s a familiar sound.
I play with the dials. An interface lets me switch between antenna with practiced ease. Suddenly, I feel a vibration deep in my horn. The speakers sputter to life.
“ssshhzzzzppppzzzz-Cee. Cuh Chuh Se. Dee. Duh. Eee. Eee Eah Eeh Eer. Eff. Fuh. Gee. Guh. Haych. Huh Thh Thuh Chuh. Iyee. Eye Ieh Ier. Jay. Juh. Kay. Kuh. Ell. Luh. Em-zzzchhttsss”
I freeze.
Impossible. The anomaly never arrives more than thirty seconds early or late. These frequencies shouldn’t have anything besides dead air.
I wasn’t expecting to find anything at this frequency. Maybe an equestrian stations was experimenting but...no, there was really no chance that was the case. In addition, a few of those hard sounds are nearly impossible to replicate with a pony’s mouth structure. And there was that curious inflection that had no place in a language from my planet. I’ve studied these errant signals enough to know that this was a signal from Oceana. The throbbing in my head can’t be argued with either. Despite my confusion, I proceed to tune my instrument to the frequency until the message becomes perfectly clear. I pull out my note pad and ready a my quill.
“Exs. Exss. Why. Yuh Eye. Zed. Zuh” The signal is quiet, a very deliberate pause. A part of me worries that I just missed the message. I transcribe everything that I can remember. I returns with the same suddenness that it left with.
“One. *beep* Two. *beep* *beep* Three. *beep* *beep* *beep* Four. *beep* *beep* *beep* *beep* Five. *beep* *beep* *beep* …”
I’m baffled by the the pure tones that ring out in repetition. I've never heard that sound before. It’s clear that the sound isn’t made by a pony’s voice, but what is the significance of that? And why are they so perfectly spaced and uniform?
Another long pause follows the beeps
“One and One is Two. Two not One is One. Two and One is Three. Three not One is Two. Three and Two is Five. Three and Three not One is Five. Two of Two is Four. Two in Four is Two. Two of Three is…”
This section seems to stretch on and on. There is very little inflection in the speaker’s voice, as if they are trying their very best to avoid relaying emotion. Even though I can’t identify any of the words, I am sure I’ve heard most of them before. Moreover, I am certain that the speaker is repeating the same words over and over. Its as if they are just rearranging the order of the words. What would cause a pony to speak like this?
The section once again concludes with a pause.
“This is the sound of long water, fast and then slow.” The voice is followed by a strange gurgling sound that slowing transitions into a loud rushing sound. It doesn’t sound like any instrument I’ve heard them use before. “Long water has the name river. This is the sound of high water, little and then much.” The narrator was again interrupted by a trickling sound that again evolved into a rushing sound, except this noise was somehow different from the last noise I had heard. “High water has the name Rain. This is the sound of big water, clean and dirty...."
This section seems to be the longest by a good margin. It trails on and on, but never gets boring. It introduces endless samples of the strangest sounds between brief lengths of unintelligible gibberish. I did my best to transcribe everything I heard, converting the alien words into a phonetic language I invented a year ago. The rushing, the hissing, the snapping and the crunching. Those odd sounds could only be preserved with short descriptions that I was sure did a poor job of representing what I was hearing.
Strenuous minutes of focus passed before the next pause came. I breathed a sigh of relief as I prepared for the next round.
“Message from big, high, far rock to you rock. Us name Human. I name Jess. This is the sound of you.” A song plays. I recognize it immediately as a popular song that plays over the radio, our radio. “I love you rock. I want to make you rock close. I want to know the sound of you. I want to make you fire and I fire close, you wind and I wind close. You river and I river is one river. I want to make big high air little. I wait long. Wait for sound of you. Us love. Warm rock, wind, and water is you.”
I realize that I have stopped writing. Everything that came before was repetitive and monotone like a pony reading an instruction manual. But every word I had heard just now gushed with a yearning. Emotion flowed so strong and pure and had rung with the deepest sincerity. I can't fathom what it all could have meant.
Somehow I’ve got to respond. How do you reply to a letter that you can’t read. I need them to know that I hear them. I need them to know that I am trying to understand. But how can I be sure they will hear me? How can I even begin to interpret what they have given me.
“Aey. Ahh Aey Aww. Bee. Beh. Cee. Cuh Chuh Ce….”
Oh dear Celestia, it Repeats!
I drop my pen and charge down the stairs with all speed. I’ll need to get some money before I go. This will be the third time I have to beg my mom to give me extra allowance. Just the thought of wasting all that time trying to convince her makes me anxious. Well, it’s better to ask for forgiveness anyway. I gallop into my parent’s room and snatch up the big jar of spare change. The front door flies open and I’m moving down the street in a blur.
If I am going do this, I will need Princess Celestia’s help.
----
I pace in front of four chalk boards. At the top of each board, a title is written and underlined: 'Sounds', 'Beeps', 'Phases', and 'Letter'. I stare at the ornate patterns of the finely carpeted floor as if the complex swirls and shapes might reveal a secret. It was a singular, massive riddle. Every note, every pause, every syllable means something. The absence of that syllable or sound at any other point could mean just as much. Clues and hints hid in plain sight, and like some great mystery novel, only by finding and connecting those clues with unerring logic can the ultimate conclusion be discovered.
“This is the sound of high fire.” The statement is followed by a period of complete silence.
The sound is playing from a cheap tape recorder that I had bought after I first heard the recording five days ago. The message was actually still repeating over the alien frequencies, but we used the tape recorder because there was absolutely no way we could set up the radio inside the Royal Library. I step over to the table and rewind the tape again. The play button clicks solidly.
“-his is the sound of high fire.” Again it is followed by that short period of nothingness. I look over to Princess Celestia who sits by between the boards with a short piece of chalk floating in her golden magic. She offers nothing but a trusting smile.
She believes in me. I know I can do this.
I try to piece together some of the clues. I just need to walk through everything I already know.
“Okay…so the strange thing here is that nothing comes after the phrase. Why is that? If the pattern remains true, Thh-Ieh-Suh is a referential word that links Suh-Ow-Enn-Duh and the noise that follows the phrase. So...why is this the only time the phrase is followed by silence. It’s...” My pacing pauses for a moment. “Unless, they...urm...” Princess Celestial nods encouragingly. “Silence. That’s the whole point. They establish a precedent that the subject is followed by a descriptive noise. The patter of Ra-Aey-Enn, the crackle of Fuh-Iey-Er . Then they break the pattern to describe something that has no noise.” I brush a strand of hair behind my ears. “If Huh-Iey Wah-Tuh-Er is rain, Huh-Iey Fuh-Iey-Er must be...A fire’s equivalent of rain? What could that be? ...There is always a chance that this thing only exists on their planet…”
I sit down where I stopped.
“Perhaps, Twilight…” I look the Princess who has begun walking towards the ‘Phrases’ board. “Perhaps we don’t fully understand the meaning of Huh-Iey.” She points to a list of possible interpretation. It is a descriptive word and could possibly be denoting anything from ‘large area of coverage’ to ‘something with lots of empty space inside’. The most favorable translation so far ‘something spread out over a vast space’ but none of those translations fit this new context. "Twilight, I believe we may be overthinking this definition.”
“But Princess...” I try, but I can’t bear to object. If she trusts in me then there must be a solution. I can feel her leading me, guiding me gently towards the answer. I ache to make her proud. Scrunching my nose and putting on my best thinking face, I ponder. “Maybe I have the wrong angle. If I were describing the rain, what is the single most unique thing that I would focus on. Rain can be warm, but so is a pond or a lake in the summer. Rain is wide, but so is an ocean. Rain is fast but so is a river. No...the one thing that only rain will ever be…”
It all clicks together at once. “The Sun!” I burst, leaping into the air. A smile touches the corners of Princess Celestia’s eyes. “Its a silent Fuh-Iey-Er, and just like rain, is Huh-Iey!”
“Very impressive, my most studious little pony.” She pulls me close, tucking me under the soft white feathers of her wing. “I have a feeling you will be very good at making riddles of your own come the day we finish.”
Snuggling in close, warm against her side, I am distracted by how totally secure I feel. But the funny, niggling little thought won’t go away. I pull away a little and throw the Princess an accusation grin. “You knew the whole time!” I muster as much faux-drama as I can, pointing and holding myself woundedly. “All this time, I’ve been slaving away and you’ve been hoarding all the answers! And it was so simple. Gawh! I’m such a silly pony-.” Part of that wasn’t just me being dramatic. I really was feeling a bit foalish for not guessing it sooner.
“Oh Twilight,” My heart dances in my chest as I catch my mentor giggling at my antics. “I may have had a slight advantage with that particular phrase.” A golden shod hoof tosses my mane lightly. “And...I don’t know if I’ve told you this...” She whispers conspiratorially, “sunny things happen to be a specialty of mine.” I giggle and she laughs with me. For a moment, all of the seriousness of my self-chosen quest evaporate away. The stress of the task falls away and my time with my dear teacher feels soft and nonintoxicating beautiful.
“You have worked so hard Twilight.” She pulls me close to her once more. She smells like tea - cinnamon and honey. Her tone is serious yet tender as to speaks. “You have learned so many incredible things, Twilight. You care so much, with devotion so pure. It is truly a joy to watch you grow. But, you must remember,” Our eyes meet and I try to hold her gaze. “You are still so young. I’ve not even had three full years as your mentor, and you are already throwing yourself at projects that would make a professor hesitate. Promise me that you will keep things in perspective.”
“I’ll try,” I manage meekly. “It just feels like we are taking too long. It’s been five weeks and we barely understand one of the four sections. They sent us a message. They’re waiting for us to respond. If we don’t respond, or if we don’t finish in time and they think we didn’t hear them or that we don’t care or maybe even that we’re to-” My hyperventilating rant is cut short by the my mentor nuzzling me quiet. I try to breath slowly, but I can’t take my eyes off of the chalkboards with far too much empty space.
“You have a good heart Twilight Sparkle," she says in an almost mournful tone.
I feel so split between wanting to believe Celestia and wanting to know those ponies in the sky. “Can we send them a letter?” I ask suddenly. “...After we figure out how they talk, I mean?”
“It may take us a month...It may take us a year... but Twilight, we will find a way.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
94th Day of Spring - 995 Year of Post Harmonic Era
----
The classroom, with its idiotic lack of air conditioning, does a better job as a crock pot than a learning environment. Students around me slouch about and lay on their desks. It seems generally encouraged to moan about the boring, pressing heat until the room sounds like it’s full of wartime casualties. The pages of my textbook stick together thanks to the muggy air. Everytime I turn a page, my fingers leave little sweaty marks. The dry, rolling plains that make my weekend refuge seem twice as appealing as I marinate in this swampy
The clicking of the wall clock tells me that we are fifteen minutes into the class period, but our teacher still hasn’t shown up. That isn’t much of a surprise, our teacher has been a slacker and a flake since the start of Eighth Grade. While the teens around me are probably relieved that they don’t have to contend with the heat as well as an apathetic general science teacher, I have long since stopped caring about this class at all.
My hand traces the bindings of a well-used notepad in my backpack. Thirty degrees from the eastern horizon I imagine a blue disk floats through the sky. I look at the bare, tan painted wall that hides the planet and imagine its cloud-covered surface. A familiar desire fills me with determination. It’s the same force that has driven me to study for long hours while the neighbor's kids shout and play outside. It’s the motivation that keeps me reading this physics textbook that I stole from the town’s high school rather than dumbly putting my head on my desk like the jock sitting to my left.
I read for the next twenty-five minutes. It’s a watered down version of gravitational theory. Equations etch out the exact nature of the fundamental force and diagrams of warped grids and looping orbital paths make the theory easy to conceptualize. A special box marked with an exclamation mark contains a short list of things that defy our running gravitational model. The Earth, the Moon, and Terra all fail to fit any gravitational equation scientists can offer.
The subject is a famous arena of contention for academics. Every few years, some team somewhere will release a report that claims to describe the rules by which our two plans travel. Inevitably, the reports will contain conclusive evidence that Earth and Terra will either spiral into the sun, collide with each other, or spin off into deep space within the millenia. Just as inevitably, the planets seem to correct themselves and avoid whatever dark fate that had been predicted.
I rub my eyes as a wave of fatigue hits me. The textbook flips closed with a clap and I put it aside. I look to each of my neighboring classmates. To my left, the student is engrossed in a conversation about some T.V. show. The guy to my right is napping soundly. The seat behind me is empty, having ducked out of class five minutes after the bell rang. In nearly two years, I hadn’t once broken my promise to my dad. I wasn’t going to ruin that now by letting a wandering pair of eyes see something they shouldn’t.
With as much nonchalance as I can muster, I pull the thick spiral notepad from my backpack. I flip through the pages like a monk my handle an ancient holy book. There is nothing new to anything to add at the moment, so I settle into my chair. I’m content to spend the rest of the period looking over all of the incredible records and strange proposals that already cover the pages.
Paragraphs of transcribed lyrics and speeches cover the many of the pages. Detailed charts and tables predict the position of the planet on any given day. Here and there are calculations for the the planet's circumference, its equatorial bulge and axial tilt. Others pages contain map after hand drawn map of topographical features. Every major city on Terra was marked and numbered on the college-ruled graph paper.
I stare at the world splayed out in graphite scribbles. A large continent dominates one half of the planet. They way cities spatter the landmass in tight clusters makes me imagine vast empires with grand, stretching borders. The other side of the globe is a giant archipelago, thousands of islands clustered together. It is no doubt the home of a mighty and proud seafaring nation. My mind spins dreams of coast populated by bustling ports and quiet grass-roofed villages.
Every city and town in my book has been given a name. I draw the boundaries of nations as best I can imagine them. Pretend cultures morph and grow. Two nation’s dignitaries meet at townhouse in a small rural village, a heated exchange in some grand and fantastical conflict.
I’ve seen pictures of the creatures that live there, taken from massive telescopes. Their photos are grainy at best, with the figures appearing as colorful, fuzzy blobs. Every low-orbiting satellite we have tried to place in Terra’s orbit has mysteriously crashed. Few of the surviving deep orbit vehicles have the equipment needed to capture a better image. Those that do have the proper tools only launched recently. The pods of camera film that they will eventually launch won’t return to earth for another five years.
Lack of detail, however, is no barrier for my imagination. Neither is the fact that the pictures are technically classified. Nothing about the list of things I’m not allowed to know is enough to stop me from sketching the creatures out in my book. Beings with any number of limbs, claws, fangs, and horns. Every possibility explored with fictitious, anatomic diagrams. There were no law I know of that might limit the possibilities of what life in their world might look like. Scientific as my methods might be, I sometimes couldn’t help the but fell like this notebook was closer to resembling a fantasy novel than a research based hypothesis.
*pop*
The sound pulls me from my reverie. In the air above me, green fire whirls and boils. Flailing, I fall out of my chair. No smell or heat accompanies the churning flame. Just as suddenly as the mirage appeared, it seems to pull together at a single point in space.
*pop*
A scroll of yellow parchment bounces on my desk. A long red ribbon is tied around it, and a regal looking seal of wax glints in the classrooms fluorescent light.
The whole class is silent, I realise to my dismay. Looking around from where I sit on the dirty checker-tiled floor, I can see that I have the attention of every conscious classmate. After gathering my things with all due haste, I pick up the neat roll of paper. I’m very aware of the eyes picking apart my every move, but I can’t help but notice the light softness of this off-white paper. I try not to think to hard about what must be running through the heads of the teenagers around me. Instead, I slip the scroll deep into my bag, toss the pack over my shoulder, and hurry out of the classroom door before the questions start.
It’s a wednesday, but I don’t stop traveling until I arrive at the house on the rolling prairie. I guess I’ll just skip school for the rest. I couldn’t open the letter anywhere else.
Somehow, I simply knew it was from them.
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AS IN A MIRROR
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ᗄƧ IN ᗄ WIᖉᖉOᖉ
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Author - Eucatastrophe
Editor - [nobody yet]
Cover Artist- [nobody yet]
Music - Sigur Ro - Svefn g englar
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This is a very interesting story so far and I love your more scientific approach of how the lone human manages to establish contact with Equestria, with limited, household, means and that it is the Equestrian how find the answer to make it a more two way communication and over come the language barrier of two totally different species with totally different view on their use in technologies and using the most common basic elements that they would probably familiar with in only using sounds. I wander how she is going to manage to understand and reconstruct the words and syntax of the ponies language on her own, without a them of linguist supporting her; she can't do this just on her own she will need outside help for this that is dedicated on the subject of reproducing lost languages. for fortunately for her, there is plenty of potential help on the Internet. Any visual reference can now be over come with Twilight sending parchments will help a lot for her.
I loved the idea of having a pony with a name that doesn't sound to have any resemblance to his craft, with is a little refreshing to see this.
I am looking forward to seem more of your story soon.
♪I can't wait for mooooooore♫♫
I did want to mention that in my mind I think of names as being more a representation of what parents think would be a good name. Perhaps a pony will try to fit the shoes they were given or perhaps they can strike out on their own and gain a cutie mark somewhere else. I feel that we see names matching professions more often then not because as foals they are exposed to their parent's jobs and interests in supportive fashions that frequently lead to the ponies following the obvious course set by their parents.
ie, musical pony with a musical name gives foal a musical name, foal does music.
That was my first reaction to Macaroni by the way.
Great job once again! This is getting really interesting..
This is great.
It seems a very inefficient way to teach English to an alien civilization. However, it is the effort of a single child so it makes sense.
Hmm, sorry to see that this story is on hiatus after just 2 interesting chapters. The author can't be out of ideas that quickly.
Really loving this story! I hope you continue it. :)