//------------------------------// // ...Turn Your Wheel // Story: To the Gods // by Comma Typer //------------------------------// The interrupted pizza breakfast is a tremendous success though Bon Bon declined to join their feasting. Going outside, they see the sky still pitch black with stars all over. Over the Celestial Sea, the stars twinkle, glistening on outlines of boats and ships. A quick taxi ride to the train station. Bon Bon pays for their express tickets and the luxury of a private carriage all for themselves. The express train arrives a couple of minutes later: a sleek and modern locomotive machine. The Power Ponies pass by sleepy arrivals on their way to or from work. Spike feels something off. He turns around and sees Bon Bon sitting down, not joining them in the private carriage. Just as planned. Coming closer to whisper, “So see you when this is all over? Back in Ponyville?” “Yup. When it’s all over… and thanks for keeping it secret. I know you’ll keep it that way. Best you see us as me and Lyra, nothing more.” Afterwards, Spike leaves Bon Bon and puts her out of his mind. There’s more than secret agent stuff to worry about now. The stop at Mitts Burr leaves Bon Bon behind and the Power Ponies to the rest of their trip. Several hours later, they witness an early sunrise: the Power Ponies taste the rays of a sun moving not of its own accord but of the will and power of two alicorns. The more scientific among them scoff at fantasy become reality while the rest nod in appreciation of its fairy-tale-like beauty. The sun reflects off the winding rivers, reworking their waters into shiny liquid diamonds. Quiet fills the room like a fog as the sun ascends the sky. Playing lengthy I-spy games, gazing upon endless grass and flower fields, napping on pillowless seats. A snake oil merchant on the road, his unwitting customer nodding along to his sales pitch. A dozen farms in a row, growing wheat and rye. Farther along, a repair-mare stopping by another stranger’s broken cart. Rager’s face squishes against the window. “For a dimension supposedly filled with terrible horrors, everything’s very ordinary. As ordinary as a flat geocentric planet can be.” “I sure hope Ma and Pa’s okay,” Fili-Second cuts in, slower than usual. They pass by several sheds and an inn for long-distance wagon haulers. “They still live in Roamers’ Field, but Verumarendi’s corruption is a festering wound. We might win here but not make it back in time… if that’s how it works at all.” “But it is going to work, right?” chirps Spike. “We go there, we take them down… hey, we could write a good ending and erase all the baddies from your history!” “Not a good idea.” Mare-velous sits up straighter. “As much as we want to stop crime wherever it goes, erasing all the world’s pain in one stroke is unnatural and negates the meaning of sacrifice and good.” In a whisper, “Between you and me, I think we should just not deal with any magic reality stuff ourselves.” “True, but you never know. If the enchanters have this dark magic there and you get that same dark magic, you could try turning it into, uh, light magic, and…” He throws his claw down. “And what if I just didn’t open up that comic in the first place?” Ears rise up. He wrangles his thumbs. Catches their attention. He continues, “Because you wouldn’t have to be here. Verumarendi wouldn’t be a thing… a-and you wouldn’t have to go through this existential crisis, thinking about reality, bringing you far away from home and all.” His own ears wilt. “You’re going to fight... the fight of your lives where you may die…” He fiddles with his thumb. Dying. Or turning back into fictional characters doing nothing but following the fixed railroad of events, repeating words written in advance. Verumarendi can bend reality: maybe even morality, brainwashing the Power Ponies to do evil as a last resort, writing them as villains complete with in-universe reasons. Their peers will be none the wiser. Focus, Spike, focus! Stay strong for them. You’ve come this far with these ponies… with your heroes. Do something good. Or at least say something good… A shadow blocks the light. A look up: Matter-Horn, bent down to his level. Her eyes plead. They beg. Then a slow puff of a sigh. “You know, I don’t know if any of us noticed… but, you remind me a lot of Hum Drum. A pause to let it sink in for a confused Spike. “I think you know who he is: the heart of the Power Ponies, keeping us going despite his lack of any obvious superpower. You have the upper hoof with your flame breath, but that only makes Hum Drum’s determination all the more special.” Matter-Horn sets herself straight on her seat. “We may not know what exactly we’re facing. We may very well die, but that’s been true for all our previous encounters with evil. We’ve always faced the risk gladly, but things sometimes do go haywire. We’re equine. Sapient. We get bogged down. We make mistakes. “So to see the heart of the Power Ponies like this… for me, it’s like the sun going out.” Another city’s urban landscape becomes a blur. The weather outside cools with a flurry of snow and ice on the way. Yet the warmth of her words fills his heart. “It’s mutual, you know. He needs help from us too. I think you need help as well, as much as you’ve helped us this far.” A sigh of leaden guilt from the dragon. “If I hadn’t opened the comic book, you wouldn’t have experienced all of… this.” “If you hadn’t,” cuts in Fili-Second, “maybe nopony would be on these bad guys’ trail.” The others chime in their agreement. “So yeah, it’s not that nice, but I like living, she likes living, you like living, we all like living. Life’s life, and being alive’s good because you can try to set things right. If not for you, then for someone else.” “And I’ll be honest,” and Zapp flaps overhead, “that convention was pretty cool. Appreciation from two worlds isn’t something you hear about every day.” Matter-Horn nods in agreement, beholding a Spike victorious with the others scooting a few inches closer in support. “As you can see we may have lots on our mind, but though we doubt, we strive to fight for our world in the end. So I ask of you to not give up on hope. Your so-called ‘blunder’ has been all for the better.” Finally, a smile at the message in their words, in their smiles: Your mistake led to something greater. But the weather still gets colder. Attuned to lava and fire, Spike is the first to detect the sharp drop in temperature. The sun’s dominance wanes in these frosty territories. “Do you think we should’ve brought our clothes?” asks Mare-velous. Having grown up in a dry desert town bestowed her no tolerance for the cold. “If we’re not in too much of a hurry, we could buy winter suits at Numnahvut,” Rager suggests. “Or not.” Fili-Second taps her hoof fast, resisting the urge to run the rest of the trip herself. “Big and heavy clothes weigh you down. That’s what our custom-made suits are for: speed and agility.” “You’re one to talk, Miss Costume Consultant,” says Radiance in half-jest. Fili-Second shrugs. “Hey, buddy, I’ve got three words for you, and you better pay attention: practicality, practicality, and practicality.” Her counting hoof stops at an error. “Hmm, that’s four words.” Laughter spreads around the huddle, to all except Spike. A common sense question: who made the superhero suits? But Spike never asked it, never wrote a letter to the staff about it. They bothered more about the storylines themselves than the little nitpicky details. Maybe they’ll change their mind if they meet the Power Ponies themselves. He then laughs at the idea to stifle it. A day ago, he’d deride himself for such childish thoughts, but today is different, and if they’re here and he can hold a conversation with them... “Uh, so you have any hobbies?” In the sea of looks and glances, Rager is the first to speak. “I thought you have whole books dedicated to detailing our universe.” To mimic Rarity, “Pshaw! With you around, they’re just second-claw sources. I’d like to hear it straight from your mouths.” They gather around as best they can on limited, cramped seats. Rager again takes initiative: “I cook.” Spike rolls his eyes. “Uh, I think that’d be a thing. You alternate cooking roles between the six of you, right?” “Seven,” pops in Matter-Horn, “if you count Hum Drum helping me when it’s my turn.” Another piece of equinity beyond mere trivia: something in between comic panels. As it turns out, Saddle Rager has her culinary talent: a botanist cook, she experiments with ingredients in her endless pursuit to create the perfect meal. Radiance has her timekeeping obsession displayed in collecting clocks and watches, even making and selling a few from time to time. Fili-Second relays the tale of how her friends once found her passed out in the back of a coffee shop, high on caffeine scoops, before they helped her through caffeine rehab. Mare-velous used to be a flying disc player (which became the inspiration for her hooferangs) though she still competes in a local rec league—a far cry from her rumble-tumble days as an Earth pony Daring Do. Zapp rocks on in karaoke bars and is a frequent customer there, entertaining sold-out crowds with her singing abilities. As for Matter-Horn, she happily tells stories of her time in the mages’ circle up in the mountains like the one time she tried learning the art of meditation but ended up snoring instead. Last but not the least, the only Power Pony native to Maretropolis: Hum Drum, a latch-key foal whose parents were one day caught up in a freak storm and never to be heard from again. Such a gritty upbringing led to his enrollment in the school of rocks and hard knocks: bullies who aspire to little more than free lunch money alternate with armed and dangerous thugs running organized crime. When Matter-Horn encountered him, he was busy evading henchponies thanks to his cunning and lack of size. A get-to-know-each-other encounter later, Hum Drum began his great tenure as her loyal sidekick and, even greater, as the hero he’d always dreamed of becoming in his comic-reading days. Eventually, Spike stopped asking questions. They speak freely. Funny incidents, lessons of failure, triumphant successes. Favorite ice cream flavors, stories about other friends, fellow superhero co-workers. The rare vacation they could afford themselves for to be vigilant is to never let their guards down. Not just lore. It is life. These ponies have lived and are living. The train slows down. It’s cold outside.