Pinkie Pie grinned from ear to ear as she hopped up and down on the bellows that pumped a substance she called ‘hyper helium’ into the deflated pony-sized blue balloon anchored to one of Applejack’s fence posts. Each hop the pink mare made produced a gentle whoosh as a quick burst of gas caused the lifeless balloon to wriggle and swell.
“Are ya sure about this, Pinkie?” Applejack asked as one brow cocked up questioningly. “Ah know what ya said, but don’t this seem a mite dangerous?”
“What’s dangerous about it?” Pinkie didn’t cease jumping on the bellows attached to the large metal canister of whatever ‘hyper helium’ really was.
Applejack cast a discerning, doubtful eye to the makeshift harness around Pinkie’s torso that jangled and flopped as Pinkie hopped. A pile of rope that Pinkie intended to tie to the vest’s D ring fixtures lay next to Applejack’s fence where the balloon began to grow and pull against gravity. “Flyin’ around Equestria tied to nothing but a balloon? It just seems like if somethin’ goes wrong, there’s not much of a safety net is all.”
“Oh, I won’t be using a safety net, silly.” Pinkie Pie never seemed to run out of energy and she hummed a happy tune as the thick rubber of the bulky balloon swelled.
“That’s m’ah point, sugar cube. What if the balloon pops? What if the rope breaks? What if a storm hits out of nowhere? Do you even know where you’ll be floating to?” There were so many doubts floating in her head that Applejack had trouble finding only one to give voice.
“The balloon can’t pop. It’s made out of really strong rubber, waaaaaay heavier than normal balloons. One time I filled it with air and took a run and go at it. IT BOUNCED ME HALFWAY TO CAROUSEL BOUTIQUE!” Pinkie seemed more excited by the minute which did very little to calm Applejack. “If my head can’t pop a balloon, nothing can!” Pinkie paused to check the nozzle of the canister, frowning and turning it to the maximum setting. The bellows rose quickly and Pinkie began to jump higher, using her body weight to crush the bellows nearly bursting and breathe regular air into the helium.
“Why’d ya have to hook up that airbag to the can? Wouldn’t it be easier just to fill the balloon without it?” Applejack’s confusion and doubts were as plain as her muzzle.
“Something about mixing air in is what makes hyper helium hyper.” Pinkie’s explanation was simple. Too simple. It was clear to Applejack that Pinkie had done very little research into this experiment and had, somehow, stumbled across this concoction. “I don’t really understand the science, err… magic,” Pinkie paused, lifting one hoof to her chin and tilting it upwards as if she were looking at the sky. Applejack frowned deeply as Pinkie confirmed her fears. “Well, whatever makes it work.”
Reassurances weren’t swiftly coming and Applejack glanced at the rapidly filling rubber sphere; it had grown thrice its size in the last few moments and was pulling up and away, only secured to the ground by the rope attached to the fence. The other rope, the one meant to string around the harness, terminated in a lasso. Applejack didn’t want to think about what could happen if Pinkie failed to tie the rope correctly. She swiftly switched subjects. “Why’d ya have to blow it up here?”
“In case it explodes,” Pinkie Pie stated matter of factly without a second thought.
“Explodes?” Applejack nearly jumped out of her skin. “What do you mean explodes? I thought you said the balloon couldn’t pop, Pinkie!”
“Oh, it can’t. I mean BOOM, fire, a bald spot on the ground where it floats. That kind of explode.” Pinkie hummed something joyful as she watched the filling device.
“Are you saying that stuff is flammable?” Applejack’s blood ran cold and her heart hurt as it paused. Now she was worried about more than just her friend.
“Yep!” Pinkie continued to bounce on the bellows, the stream of gas was nearly constant now and the balloon continued to grow.
“And you thought the best place ta potentially blow up was mah farm?” Shock, offense, and fear all had a part to play in the question. Applejack’s weight shifted as she slid back from the possibly lethal balloon.
“Well, I thought if there was one place where the casualties would be the smallest it would be here. I mean, besides me and you, who else is nearby? This stuff is pretty volatile, Applejack. I’d hate to take out the whole block Sugar Cube Corner sits on if something goes wrong. The Cakes would probably be really upset with me.” Pinkie giggled. Applejack’s suspicions about the pink earth pony were confirmed: Pinkie Pie was insane. Applejack, understanding that there would be no talking Pinkie out of this harebrained scheme, began to move away from her.
“Pinkie… just…just be careful, then. Ah’ll, uh, Ah’ll watch from a distance, okay?” Applejack galloped away, taking shelter behind a sturdy, stalwart tree at the edge of her orchard. Pinkie Pie didn’t seem to mind and only waved as she finished bouncing, quickly turning the gas off and moved to the ropes.
The balloon was swollen and struggling to free itself from the fence post. Pinkie chuckled to herself at the squeaking, creaking noises the wood made as the balloon tugged at it; it reminded her of chipmunks and squirrels squawking. Taking the loose ropes, she tied the rubber end off to keep the air inside from escaping and began looping the end to feed through the rings of her harness. She hummed to herself and opened the round end of the rope, bringing it down and around her neck, sliding it over the tops of her shoulders and towards the vest that firmly gripped her midsection.
The wooden beam that rested between the posts of the fence squealed as the might of the balloon pulled the iron nails free. Applejack saw the beam lurch upward before Pinkie and called out in surprise, “PINKIE! THE FENCE!”
Pinkie looked up at her friend and smiled happily, waving back. The rope wasn’t fed through any of the rings yet and squeezed tightly around the mare. Pinkie only had time to hear a sudden crack before she was jerked upward by the escaping rubber beast, yanked violently up, up, and away into the bright blue of the Equestrian sky.
Applejack yelled but Pinkie couldn’t hear her, dragged out into the cerulean expanse. Applejack was just an orange dot frantically moving far below the balloon and hanging pink mare. The balloon lifted high, so high that Ponyville, the Everfree Forest, and Sweet Apple Acres could all be seen with just the twist of the head.
The midday sun hung over the slightly rolling landscape and cascaded across the tiled roofs below. Various colored pinpricks moved on the streets of Ponyville unaware of the pony hanging high above them. Happy folks who loved their lives, busy with their business, and diligent with their duties crossed far below. Their lives led them to one another, to form the friendship that Pinkie and her friends found so magical.
Pinkie’s life before coming to Ponyville had been unmotivational. She had felt like a freak in her bright coat, bubbly personality, and craving to spread joy among the dismal backdrop of Rockville. Not that Rockville was bad; it was steady and reliable but, for a personality like Pinkie’s had been, it was stifling, stymying, and suppressive. She could never be who she was meant to be in such a bland, gray place.
Ponyville had allowed her to be herself and those who lived there were more than happy to accept her boisterous, busy personality. With that, Pinkie had found her true home. She had, for as far into the future as she could see—which hadn’t been very far—could not foretell leaving. As far as she had been concerned, Ponyville was where she would be buried. Not amongst her blood, her kin, but with those she saw as her family. It was her place of peace, which, ironically, allowed her to be as rambunctious and rowdy as she wanted.
The invisible currents propelled the swinging earth pony west and away from Ponyville, gently lifting the balloon even higher until rivers were winding blue serpents and dirt roads that connected lesser, unincorporated towns were earth worms wriggling from tiny settlement to minor town throughout the fields and forests of Equestria.
There were several such towns, stops along the long roads maintained by a local populace. Clusters of buildings, stalls, or even trading tents marked them. Many of the folk in such places lived off the land and sold their wares at the rest stops. More than one was a farm similar to Sweet Apple Acres where fruits, vegetables, and grain were sold right on the side of the road to hungry passersby or in bulk to the larger businesses sourcing locally grown produce for their shops in larger towns or cities.
The summer sun was hot, not that Pinkie noticed as she swung suspended below the massive rubber sphere, but the wind at this altitude was far cooler than that nearer the ground so much of the heat was cut. The breeze gently pushed the floating pony onward until the familiar landscape faded far behind. Shifting gently, a northern current vied for control of the device and angled Pinkie northwest. After an hour of drifting, the pegasus city of Cloudsdale came into view on the horizon.
The sky this far north was far cloudier because of the winged ponies who controlled weather and built their homes high in the drifting cotton clouds. Pinkie had always wanted to fly like her winged cousins but her magic was not of the same variety and she had been forced to settle for artificial flight. She had hoped with this balloon her short flights using multiple small balloons might be replaced for longer, more fun ones. Already this flight had gone for far longer than any of her previous ones with the regular party balloons. Control was lacking however, especially now.
Cloudsdale was sometimes difficult to find and the landscape below alternated around where the city had floated. Usually, it lay above a shimmering lake that had been formed when a meteor had impacted Equestria in a time before ponies existed. Today, it cast a large shadow across a rolling mountain range. The gray blots of darkness danced across craggy, earthen peaks and large trees older than time. As tall and mighty as the mountains were, Pinkie swung above them, only slightly higher than the largest buildings of the crafted cloud city.
The big blue balloon would not fly over Cloudsdale, nor would it come very close as the breeze stiffened and rolled Pinkie Pie eastward. Still, the skyline of Cloudsdale was stunning. Light rolled over the cloud structures, catching the stored moisture and refracting it into a multitude of rainbows. All about the city were multicolor streams like rivers of color pouring out into the brilliant blue sky. Here and there were pegasi playing, flying, and diving with their friends. They broke through the cascading illusionary colors and swam in a sea of open beauty. Pinkie, unfortunately, had turned and couldn’t see the picturesque sight.
Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash had come from Cloudsdale. Why they would ever want to leave such a wonderful city was known only to them but Pinkie had dreamed of being able to live in such a majestic place high above the earth. It, unfortunately, would never be.
A few hours dragged by as the wind’s embrace grew fickle and ceased altogether. Suspended thousands of feet above a series of foothills and the deciduous trees that grew on them, Pinkie had little choice but to wait. Isolated in the wilds, not even the winding roads could be seen, devoured by the thick forests that claimed this land. The air pressure inside the balloon had reached that sweet spot where the average density of the hyper helium was no longer lighter than that of the air surrounding it. And so it buoyed, unable to climb and unable to descend.
A wayward bird appeared, circled in confusion, and decided to light atop Pinkie Pie’s head. She appeared to be asleep to the bird as it stepped over and looked down into the face of the mare. It cooed softly and tilted its head almost 180 degrees.
It was a pigeon. White and gray feathers ruffled as it cooed gently to itself, head snapping to and fro as only an avian creature could. In its life it had seen a great many ponies. Too many to count, not that the creature was bright enough to count very high. The bird relied on ponies for its sustenance, the pigeon species having long ago given up on hunting anything more than a cobbled street or trash can in which it may find a crumb of bread, a bit of cheese, or a kernel of unpopped popcorn.
The bird, Ooo, or the closest approximation to a name it had, was familiar with unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies. Ooo understood that some ponies could fly but had never seen one do so in a manner such as this. The flying type had wings of wonder: beautiful feathers spread out, glowing under the sun, and wafting with a light the bird simply could not understand. It had inspected its own wings, the wings of its friends, and even the wings of other birds only to find no trace of that brilliant, warm light that pegasi eschewed. Jealousy caused Ooo to peck Pinkie’s head once despite her not having wings of her own. Unable to understand how this pony was flying, Ooo nestled into the cotton candy mane to think.
Ooo, content to sit atop the strange, non-winged pony put all of its thought into how a pony could fly without wings. Ooo, however, was a pigeon and, even among bird-kind, was known to have a short attention span. Before long, Ooo’s stomach growled and it began getting its bearings. Canterlot, or in bird language, WooOooOo Coo Wa, waited somewhere east. Deciding its empty belly was more important than the conundrum of pink ponies and wingless flight, Ooo pecked Pinkie once more out of spite and took wing, beating at the air until a drift of wind caught it and sent it towards Canterlot.
Unlike the bird, Pinkie remained still as the flowing air the bird caught resided dozens of feet below her. The rubber of the balloon made weird pinging sounds like that of a submarine that resonated deeply within the taught surface. Pinkie had no fear of a leak, though a slow one would lower her elevation, for all her thorough testing—bouncing, running into, and leaping off of Sugar Cube Corner onto—the balloon had proved that, aside from being extremely bouncy, it was durable. It couldn’t burst like a typical, ordinary balloon, exploding suddenly, the material recoiling into a tiny, shriveled worm; the mega balloon, or meballoon as Pinkie called it to cause herself fits of giggles, would release air slowly, the strong rubber collapsing inward at a much slower rate. Slow enough, hopefully, to bring the pilot safely to the ground albeit at a more rapid pace should a tear appear.
Another hour passed before the potency of the hyper helium began to wane, beginning the landing sequence which would take several hours to complete. But, the balloon began to descend gradually over time and it lowered into the channel of air, pushing Pinkie in the same direction Ooo had flown. Before long the forests below had given way to fields of flowers.
Patches of yellow, blue, and pink stood out upon the fresh green of grass where the flowers waged a war against each other to conquer the fields. The war had thundered for generations and looked as though it may never end. Battle lines were a clash of color; pink tides crashed into rooted blue troops while yellow threatened both the others on their flanks. The roots of each color flower tied, tangled, and throttled those of the others, holding their advances as bay. Only through germination, pollination, and airborne invasion did the various armies hope to gain an advantage over their enemies.
Honey bees, like C-17 planes, carried the pollen that bred troops across distance. In the larger patches of color stood a brave, hearty few that had been successful in their attack and began to eat away at their foes from within. The flowers’ war had raged for many seasons and, once winter came, another season would pass with only the gain or loss of a few inches of turf. They would cease fire for the cold season, eager to maintain their attack but also fearful of the dreaded cold. But, with each spring, new troops would rally and take up the call. The war would rage once more, year after year until only one flower type dominated the field.
Except, unknown invaders eyed the field hungrily. Beneath the balloon stood the beginnings of blackberry bushes. And nothing… not even the dreaded kudzu could compete with their invasive tactics. Another season. Maybe two. And the flowers’ war would end in blackberry supremacy.
Pinkie dangled. Canterlot, the capital city of Equestria, spread out before her in all directions. Though not the largest Equestrian city, it was the center of everything: jewel of the empire. Buildings great and small rippled in orange glow, bathed by the evening sun and spread from the city center. The Canterlotian skyline, so easily recognizable with the unique design of roofs and structures, was dominated by the royal castle.
Combining small town values with big city business, Canterlot thrived with a constantly increasing population and yet the citizenry who dwelled within maintained a passive friendliness that many other cities had forgotten. Not a soul walking the street was too busy to greet another or too tied up with their own affairs to the point of ignoring the needs of others. It was a wonder, not just structurally, but morally.
Pinkie couldn’t see the ponies below or their friendliness despite the gradually lowering balloon but a few noticed the lingering flying instrument and the pony swaying gently below it, offering up a wave.
Another current of wind grabbed the balloon and altered its course. While the bulk of Canterlot rested safely below Pinkie, the castle was tall, far taller than even the buildings of the business center of the city, and Pinkie quickly approached the towers on a collision course. Pinkie had no fear of the looming stone structures; left to the will of the current, she closed the distance alarmingly fast.
The towers of the royal castle had stood for a century and, though made of stone, needed repairs on a nearly constant basis due to the size of the castle. Roofers lucky enough to have their bid accepted would find ten year contracts to replace the entirety of the castle’s lacquered tiles. Once a job was completed, the residents of the castle would be noise free for only a year or two before a new crew would begin the job over. Once before, the owner of a small roofing company had spent his entire career dedicated only to the palace. His skill and willingness to show his love to his country kept him a valued retainer until his death at 83 years old.
The worker replacing tiles this day was the great great granddaughter of that pony and she too had spent a great deal of her life repairing the palace. She had spent years working at enormous heights and had never fallen once. Still, she wore a vest similar to Pinkie’s that was tied to the tower just in case of mishap. It was pride in her work that blocked the sight of the incoming pink mare and it was her diligence to safety that saved her from a messy ending on the cobbled grounds below when the balloon brought Pinkie crashing into the roofer, knocking her from the roof. “HEY! WHAT THE F---,” she bellowed, shaking one angry hoof at the floating earth pony and her dumb balloon.
Pinkie couldn’t hear the earth pony mare and just continued her journey, scraping her hooves along the stone roof tiles and back into open, unobstructed air. Only a sudden gust of wind had changed her direction enough to not slam directly into the body of the tower and it now propelled her south, slowly leaving the capitol behind for the comforts of a place Pinkie loved. Back to her home: Ponyville.
The flying adventure had started nearly eight hours previously as Pinkie was snatched up into the heavens by the balloon. She could not have planned for a better place to terminate than home. Completely by accident, Pinkie had drifted all day across the various beautiful lands of Equestria. And, while there were so many more locations unseen, it had been a good trip. The great balloon had diminished to half the size it had been at full capacity and could no longer hold Pinkie alight. Slowly Pinkie began to sink to the earth below.
Ponyville’s streetlights were being lit, one by one. The flames danced merely a few hundred feet below Pinkie. The purplish hues of night washed the small town and far fewer ponies walked the streets. Pinkie floated above, angled by the wind toward sweet apple acres, the very place from which she had taken flight.
“There! Rainbow Dash, she’s just there!” Applejack called, pointing one hoof into the night sky at the nearly camouflaged blue balloon. There was fear in her voice.
“I’m on it!” Rainbow Dash shouted and zoomed towards the floating earth pony, leaving a rainbow trail in her wake.
Rarity and Twilight spilled from other parts of Sweet Apple Acres, joining Applejack, their necks craned up with faces dark with worry.
“Rainbow! Is Pinkie okay?” Twilight yelled, her horn flaring with bright purple light, the balloon enveloped and stabilized, fixed in place as Rainbow pulled up. Dash frowned deeply at Pinkie as she took the mare in her forelegs.
“Pinkie? Pinkie! Come on, Pinkie!” Rainbow Dash didn’t answer Twilight, electing to focus on the more serious problem. She shook Pinkie and the earth pony jilted like a worn child’s doll. Her limbs were so limp that Dash feared they may fall off.
“Dash?” Fluttershy, much slower than the athletic blue pegasus, joined her friend. She looked uncertain, her features pallid and blanched of color. ‘What… what do I need to do?”
“We have to get her down. Now! Hold her up, lift from below,” Dash barked and struck the rubbery balloon with one hoof to no avail, simply sinking into the sturdy flesh of the device. Fluttershy grunted and wheezed as she lifted Pinkie, wings flapping wildly to carry the extra weight.
“Oh my! Twilight, Pinkie’s color is awful. It looks like she’s turned blue!” Rarity said, earning a serious, concerned look from Twilight.
“Rainbow! I’ll guide her down! You get the rope from around her neck!” Twilight’s hooves shook as adrenaline coursed her body. She focused on bringing her friend safely to the ground. It couldn’t be too quick or the landing could hurt Pinkie but it also couldn’t be too slow; they had lost so much time already and Twilight feared the worst.
The balloon, glowing in the darkened sky, was pulled to the ground. Pinkie’s body fell in a heap and Rainbow Dash wrestled with the lasso end of the rope that had snapped tightly around Pinkie Pie’s neck when it had wrested loose of the fence. Pinkie’s friends gathered around as Dash shook her roughly.
“Come on, Pinkie. You oaf, you have to be okay. Wake up! Wake up already!” Dash shouted and raised her hooves, bringing them down on Pinkie’s breast. Tears began to roll down her cheeks and yet she still struck Pinkie, hoping against hope that those bright blue eyes might flicker open.
Fluttershy covered her mouth, unable to speak. The stress was too much for her and she wanted to fly off, to get as far away as possible but she knew that she couldn’t. It would be disrespectful if she just turned tail and ran.
“Oh… how awful,” Rarity buried her face in Applejack’s shoulder, unable to look upon the scene. Small, squeaking noises muffled by Applejack’s torso escaped.
Applejack shook her head and lowered her gaze, her cheeks growing wet as well. “Ah told’er not to, y’all. I told’er it didn’t look safe.”
Twilight, fighting back her own tears and looking over her friend’s body objectively gathered all of the information she needed. She whispered softly, her voice cracking as she spoke, “Dash, stop.”
“No!” Dash snarled at Twilight and slammed her forelegs into Pinkie’s body again. “Pinkie Pie, please! Open your eyes. You have to!” Dash’s strikes were solid and the powerful blows resonated in Pinkie’s torso. Each jolt jerked her lifeless body but did nothing to bring life back to it. A hoof found Dash’s shoulder and Twilight gently tugged at the pegasus.
“She’s gone, Dash. Her neck is broken. She probably went instantly and never felt a thing,” Twilight whispered mournfully, wiping at her flooding eyes. Dash fell forward, hugging her pink friend and sobbing. Pinkie was cold. What Twilight said was true. Applejack, when she had gathered them all to find their dear friend, had said the rope had cinched around her neck. Dash had hoped there was a chance, if they found her quickly enough. But they searched for hours. Every minute was an eternity and, in the end, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. They had been too late the moment that the accident happened.
Pinkie lay still as her friends gathered around her. They touched her gently, wishing her farewell on whatever silly adventure she may go to next. They knew their lives would be changed forever without the bubbly, bumbling, beautiful Pinkie, but they would treasure forever their time with her.
The balloon floated high once more. Untethered of the heavy pink mare, it had enough lift to ascend high into the heavens: floating, drifting, and swaying with the wind.