Thomas groaned as the morning light shone through his window, the melody of the local bird population audible, even through his closed window. His spine popped as he pulled himself into a sitting position and rubbed his bleary eyes. Whatever he did last night gave him one of the best nights of sleep he had in years. What did he do?
His brow furrowed as he tried to recall what happened, but nothing came to him. It was as if the memories were just beyond the reach of his consciousness, but they would occasionally dip into his mind before fleeing back into the edges of his mind. He chuckled at his overly long analogy. He stood up and walked over to the window.
There wasn’t much activity outside, only the occasional car passing and a single person standing outside their house with a cup of coffee. With the sun just peeking over the roof of his neighbors across the street, it was safe to assume that it was still early in the morning. He stood by the window a little longer, trying to remember what happened the night before.
His eyes eventually settled on his car parked in the driveway, and one of the elusive memories was dragged into the light. He remembered Luna. He remembered making her something to eat. He remembered watching television with her. He remembered talking to her. That’s when his mind drew a complete blank. It was as if that part of his memory had been blotted out of existence. He glanced around his room, hoping something came back to him. It wasn’t until his eyes settled on the black lockbox in the corner that he could remember.
The War. They talked about the War.
Everything flooded back to him, even his mental breakdown. He sighed and fell back onto the bed, suddenly exhausted; he had a relapse, but how did he get to his room? There was no way he dragged himself back to his room; usually, he’d pass out from mental or physical exhaustion and wake up on the floor. Maybe he did somehow stumble his way back to his room. He snorted and dismissed the idea; it was far more likely that Luna brought him back to his room after he fell unconscious. If that was the case, he supposed he ought to thank her. But before he did any of that, he needed a shower.
He stood up and walked over to his dresser, opened the top drawer, ignored the loaded M1911, and grabbed a colorful horizontal striped polo, slacks, and underwear. He threw the slacks and underwear onto his shoulder and held up the striped shirt. He usually wore more muted clothes, but the polo had earned its place as his favorite shirt through softness alone. After getting his clothes picked out, he closed the drawer and left his room.
The hallway was completely silent; glancing into the living room, he saw no one and assumed Luna was still asleep. He entered the bathroom, set his clothes down, ensured he had a towel, and undressed. He glanced towards the radio that sat on a shelf above his counter and considered turning it on. If Luna’s presence was anything to go by, some significant events were happening in the world, and she would probably appreciate any updates on the status of her homeland. He turned the dial to a station he enjoyed: the Voice of the Old World Newscast.
“-regardless, rescue operations are still underway,” the English anchorman finished. Thomas sighed as he stepped into the shower, another piece of news he missed. “To our listeners just tuning in, I’d like to thank you for joining us on V-OWN; it’s a pleasure to have you with us. However, my dear listeners, our next bit of news is a touch dire and has many people here in the European Union strung up. Recently, the princess of the pony nation Equestria has made a rather alarming speech.” That caught Thomas’s attention. “Our reporters were able to attend and record the speech. What follows is a recording taken two days ago, in the capital of Canterlot.” A brief silence followed, in which Thomas lathered himself with soap.
“Ponies of Equestria!” the sudden shout startled Thomas, almost making him drop his soap. “It fills me with great joy to see so many loyal ponies assembled here today. I know many of you have struggled much these last few years, and I know that many of you are tired and just want everything to return to normal.
“But I’m afraid that cannot happen.
“I’m sorry, my ponies, but this is the way it has to be. What we knew as normal has died. Killed by the treacherous forces of Nightmare Moon and the Secessionist. If Equestria is to survive, we must forge a new normal. One that insurgents cannot so easily strike down. A new normal not founded on the weaknesses of Harmony.” Numerous gasps interrupted the speech; Thomas didn’t understand the significance.
“I know what I say sounds unspeakable, but let me ask you, my dear ponies... Did Kindness save your colts and fillies from the cultists’ rifles?” she asked coldly. “Did Honesty shield your fathers from the bombs? Did Laughter defend your homes from the artillery! Did Generosity stop the roaring machine guns from slaughtering our people! Did Loyalty save those dying in the trenches! Has the ‘Magic of Friendship’ saved anypony during this miserable war? No!
“Do you believe the Changelings will accept our friendship? Even as I speak, they mobilize to conquer our home! Our faith in Harmony has weakened us! We must be strong; we must do what it takes to survive. My ponies, a new era lurks on the horizon, and I will be the one that guides you into it; I am Daybreaker, it is my duty, my responsibility, to prepare my ponies into this new age, and under my guiding hoof, nothing will ever threaten us again! Chrysalis and her kind will never break the iron will of my subjects. The endless wars of Griffonia shall never touch our continent. And the foul supporters of Sombra will be dashed beneath our hooves!
“Forward my ponies! Forward onto this bright new age! Forward unto Dawn!” Cheering and loud thumping followed the speech before getting cut off as the recording ended.
After a brief silence, the British newscaster cleared his throat, “That was the speech.” A shuffling noise came from the radio. “Now, listeners, I don’t like to input personal opinions during the news section of our show, but this...this speech worries me. Now I suppose there wasn’t anything directly threatening, but…I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling about this,” another pause. “But that’s all for the speech, onto recent events in Olenia and the Soviet Union.”
Thomas tuned out the newscaster and instead continued his shower. He sympathized with the radio host’s feeling; something about the speech rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was the strange name change. Daybreaker. People usually didn’t just change their name out of the blue. He shook his head; there was no use worrying about it.
He turned off the shower water and dried himself off before getting dressed. After doing a brief inspection of himself in the mirror, he brushed his teeth and shaved. Then, he put his dirtied clothes and towel in the laundry basket and left the bathroom.
He was once again greeted by silence; Luna still hadn’t awakened. He checked his watch for the time: 7:53. He shrugged; perhaps she wasn’t a morning person. It just gave him more time to get to work on the cipher. He entered the living room and walked over to his desk that sat in the corner. As he sat down, he opened the drawer that held his work and laid them on his desk. But just as he had picked up a pen, his phone rang.
He let out an irritated sigh and reluctantly stood up and walked to the phone. He picked it and greeted the caller with, “Hello, this is William Thomas. Who’s this?”
“Tommy! I have news for you,” a familiar voice of his commanding officer answered back. “It regards your work.”
“News for me, sir?”
“Did you hear about the speech in Equestria, Tommy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Cut the sir business. What did I tell you about that!”
“Yes, er, Micheal.”
That’s better. Anyways, the Europeans have requested our aid in decrypting some radio messages they picked up, and you’re being assigned to it.”
Thomas’s brow furrowed, “S-,Micheal, what about Wingbardy?”
“They have taken a low priority; right now, we need to figure out if the Equestrians are planning something. You should be receiving an email from an EU delegate sometime this week, but the specifics are still being worked out, so don’t expect to receive anything now.”
“Understood, Micheal.”
“Have a good morning, Tommy.”
“You too,'' Thomas hung up the phone. That threw his daily schedule out of whack; most of his day was spent working. He let out a sigh, picked up his work, and scanned the room for something to do. He didn’t feel like watching television, so that was out of the question. He didn’t have any friends to call; most of them left him. His expression soured; that wasn’t something he liked to think about. He briefly considered going back to sleep but dismissed the idea. There was no use throwing off his sleep schedule when he’d just have to get it back on track later.
Eventually, he started cleaning up the house; it busied him for a few hours. By the time ten o’clock rolled around, he had swept up the kitchen, living room, and hallway, wiped down every counter, washed all his clothes, and washed and dried the dishes. He was in the middle of folding his clothes when Luna’s door creaked open. He glanced towards the door to see the scowling pony. She looked tired, her fur was a mess, and, somehow, she managed to get bedhead. He suppressed a chuckle at her appearance and greeted her.
“Good morning, Luna.” She grumbled something in response. Not a morning person.
“Do you have any coffee?” she asked, although it lacked the politeness she had yesterday, sounding more like a demand. Definitely not a morning person.
“In the kitchen,” he stood up, “Let me show you.”
She huffed but allowed the human to escort her. She hated mornings, but after staying with their Central Intelligence Agency for a while, she had grown accustomed to waking up early. That didn’t mean she had to like it. The human led her into the kitchen to a small machine that sat on the counter. She didn’t recognize the brand, but the machine was familiar enough. It was good to know that she would be able to obtain coffee in the mornings; William would have been in for a terrible time if she hadn’t. He turned on the machine, and they stood in silence as the pot filled. Thomas avoided looking at the irate blue pony; she might have cared if it wasn’t for the fact that she was awake at ten in the morning and still hadn’t had coffee.
The machine made a beeping noise as the pot finished filling. Thomas retrieved two cups and poured in the coffee. Luna snatched up her cup as soon as he finished filling it, and she began downing the coffee as she held it aloft in her magic. He raised an eyebrow, “No sugar?”
She paused for a moment to send him a testy glare before continuing to chug the bitter black fluid; he cringed. Then, taking a container of sugar out of the pantry, he dropped three spoonfuls into his cup. Luna let out a content sigh after finishing her cup; Thomas couldn’t help but notice that she looked a lot more put together after finishing the drink.
“Thank you, William,” she said politely. “I apologize for being so ill-mannered.”
He waved it off, “No hard feelings,” he smirked, “I’ve dealt with much worse than one grumpy pony.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk of her own, “Hmm, I would say I was quite tame. If I were truly annoyed, you wouldn’t dare speak to me like that.”
“Oh? Well, my apologies, princess.” He performed a mock bow, holding up one arm to keep his coffee from spilling. The pony’s heart raced, and she nearly dropped the cup. He glanced up and, seeing her stunned state, tilted his head. Did he perform some kind of faux-pas? “You okay, Luna? It was just a joke; I didn’t mean to offend.”
She regained her composure and gave a nervous chuckle, “Ah, of course, a joke.” She shook her head to clear her thoughts. The human didn’t know she was a princess; he was merely making a joke. She didn’t know why Agent Connor warned her not to disclose her status, but she wouldn’t go against his request. And if she was honest, she preferred him not knowing; he treated her casually, and throughout her long life, there were only a hoof-full of ponies who treated her like that. One being her sister…
“Luna?” the pony had been staring at the floor absently; Thomas could tell she had drifted off into thought. It was a bit odd seeing someone else do it, but he recognized it. The pony didn’t respond to his call, so he leaned down and snapped his fingers. The pony nearly jumped upon hearing the pop; her eyes shot around the room, looking for the source until settling on the human’s outstretched hand. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at it intently.
“What was that?”
“ What was what?” He followed her eyes to his hand, “The snap?”
“Yes, did you do that with your hand?” He snapped again, and the pony tilted her head. “How do you do that?”
He shrugged and did it again, “I don’t know how it works; you just kinda do it.” He faced the palm of his hand towards her as he did it again.
“And doing that just makes that noise?”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s just another benefit of having fingers,” he glanced over to the coffee pot; it still had enough coffee for about three cups. Maybe he made too much. He pointed towards the machine, “I don’t suppose you’ll want another cup?”
“As for a matter of fact, I would. Would you be so kind as to pour out a cup for me,” her cup floated towards him. “You wouldn’t say no to a princess?”
He snorted and set his cup on the counter, “Of course, your majesty.” He seized the cup from her magic and poured her some more coffee. “Do you want any sugar in it, or are you just gonna chug down another cup of black coffee?”
“Hmm, I think I’ll take two spoons of sugar this time.” He dropped two spoonfuls into the drink, stirred, and handed it over to her. “Thank you, William. You make a wonderful serf,” she joked, taking a sip.
He placed the spoon in the sink before returning to his cup. He took a sip and grimaced as the cool liquid entered his mouth. Even with the sugar, cold coffee tasted awful; he quickly gulped down the drink and placed his cup into the sink. Luna eyed him the entire time.
“What about me chugging coffee, Mister William?” Luna teased.
“Mine was cold.”
“Hmm, that sounds like an excuse.”
He ignored the comment and sat down at the kitchen table. Luna joined him, taking a seat facing him. They sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the occasional sip from Luna’s cup.
“This chair is uncomfortable,” Luna whined, breaking the silence.
“I can imagine; it looks like your tail’s being pressed against the back.”
“It is, and it’s uncomfortable. Can we go sit on the sofa?”
He raised an eyebrow, “You know, you don’t have to wait for me, right?”
“Of course I know that, but it is a bit boring sitting on the sofa alone.” A cheeky grin crept onto her face, “Maybe we could continue watching Star Trek?”
He chuckled at the suggestion, but his cheerfulness died when memories of the day before resurfaced. “Luna,” he began, “do you remember what happened last night?”
The pony frowned, “Yes.”
“I’m sorry for what you saw, I don’t remember what happened exactly, but I do know I had a relapse,” his head dipped.
“What!” she exclaimed; her outburst made Thomas flinch. “What are you apologizing for?”
“For allowing you to see that.”
“What an absurd thing to apologize for! You suffered a ‘relapse’ because of my actions! If anything, I am the one to blame.”
“But I agreed to tell you what happened on Earth.”
“That means nothing!”
“I could have avoided saying anything, then you wouldn’t have to hear my sob story, and I wouldn’t have had a breakdown.”
“Sob story? Your whole world died; that’s not some trivial event!”
“I never said it was, but every human alive saw the same thing, and they’re out living their lives without breaking down at the slightest provocation. I just need to get over it.”
She slammed her hooves on the table, “That is the most outrageous thing I have ever heard in my entire life! You have emotional damage after suffering through a war worse than anything I can even imagine, and yet you blame yourself for experiencing pain? How can you be so foolish!”
Thomas stayed silent, considering her words before the sound of dripping made him glance over to her cup. Her coffee had spilled. She appeared to have noticed that too and was in the middle of magicking some napkins over to clean it up. Her eyes narrowed as they locked onto his.
“Mister William, you should seek professional help. I am no psychologist, but it is clear you are suffering from mental trauma. It is not good to bottle these things up; it will harm you in the long run,” she said matter-of-factly.
He snorted, “You say that like I haven’t already tried.”
“Well, have you?”
“Yeah, but it’s a bit hard to get an appointment. The waiting list is a couple of ten million long, so their schedule is pretty packed. I’m probably somewhere around 36,453,133. They’ll probably be able to see me in sixty years.”
Luna cringed at that, “S-surely you jest.”
He shrugged, “Maybe. There’s probably only a couple of million on the lists. Not everyone directly saw the horrors.”
‘That’s awful…” her ears slowly fell flat on her head.
“Yeah, it is. But there’s nothing that can be done about it. The doctors said that this’ll just be something that we all have to deal with. PTSD is the new normal until the next generation comes, and we all die off.”
Her face fell, “Is there truly no way to help?”
“I dunno, I’m no doctor; I’m just a cryptologist,” he stood up and rubbed his head. He was starting to develop a headache. “How about we get off of this topic and head to the living room to watch some television.”
She nodded, hopped off the chair, and walked beside him. “I’m sorry, William,” she hung her head—the same way she did when he first met her.
He extended his hand and tousled her mane; it was soft and silken, and touching it, he found out that it was indeed made of individual strands of hair, but they all coalesced to form the waving ethereal star-scape. “Don’t worry about it, Luna; now let’s go watch some movies.”
“Are we going to watch Star Trek again?” she seemed to perk up a little.
His face twisted into a mischievous grin, “Maybe, but I had something else in mind.”
“Oh?”
“Have you ever heard of Alien?”