"Man suffers only because he takes seriously, what the gods made for fun." - Alan W. Watts
Two stars circled their common gravitational center slowly shining dimly. They hardly did anything unusual, as long as a double white dwarf star system can be considered something usual. However, there was something plainly wrong about them. They were small and white, yes, but they also shouldn't exist yet. This universe was far too young to produce them. Yet they were, with this blunt denial of rules that only celestial bodies can live with.
Two creatures moved their bottom limbs on the surface of the bigger one. It was millions and millions of Kelvin degrees hot, but in no way did it stop them from enjoying their time together. There was nothing but void all around them, but in no way did it stop them from chatting and laughing. Of course, they weren't even really there, but it hardly mattered for them as well.
What is it that you are most looking towards? It will only last as long as we make it, so I hope you know your wishes creaked one, in a language unclassified, unheard of and unpronounceable for anyone with less than three sets of vocal chords. Steel ones. For the record, it sounded more like a noise of heavy machinery than anything organic. Tin and Iron, both of which had no right to yet exist.
The second creature pondered on the question for a while, mostly for effect and then it did something resembling a smile.
There was a planetary level commotion in one of the worlds of my domain. Normally, I would pay it no notice came the response, in syllables used only by creatures not of proteins and fats, but of alcoholes. Volatile, flammable and yet, colorless. However, something very interesting occurred there and I had to restore balance. What I could not do without intervening directly I want to settle on the Banquet
Tin-voiced creature smelled a hidden, unsaid factor of the issue. Blood. Blood, Meat and Energy.
What kind of commotion, pray tell? it scratched.
One of my vassals was deposed and contained.
The tinny creature waited.
And? Happens all the time, doesn't it?
...by another one of mine.
This is a rarer case, I admit, but still nothing worth our regard...
What was so interesting about this was the aftermath it interrupted.
Namely?
Nothing. the creature shook its head in disbelief. That's the thing, see. You'd expect the victor to brag, boast and relish in his newfound power. Wreck a world or two, destroy some places, make new ones, slowly spiral completely out of control... A pause. Nothing like that happened. Screaming, screaming... and then silence.
I am intrigued.
You tell me the scratching intensified I am hungry. Life strong and beautiful and yet, self contained, elusive. It smells... luxurious.
Another would-be smile blossomed on the face of the alcoholic creature. A rather sly one.
Of course it does.
A silence settled on the white dwarf. Laws of physics screamed that there should be no sound to begin with, but no one listened to them.
I think we should get back to work.
Right.
The second creature of many limbs extended one and made a simple gesture towards the opposite star. Without a millisecond's delay, it stopped in its movement. The creature then moved another one of its limbs in a circle and pinned one tiny point in space on the arc.
Gas coalesced, got heavier and more dense and, after millions of years of the star's lifetime, but within seconds from the perspective of the creatures, it was finally a main sequence star, bright and yellow. The first creature, the one with tinny voice and a taste for blood, got impatient. It moved its claw in a small, quick circular hastening gesture. The star, intimidated, burned rapidly, more rapidly in fact that it is physically possible.
There was a scorch of unimaginable heat, there were millions of years gone in seconds, even faster than before. The star expanded into a bloody sphere of terrible, fatal energy many times the size of the universe... and before the universe could even notice, it was all gone. In place of the star's core there spun a tiny white ball. A white dwarf.
Third to circle on a fixed, though increasingly unstable, orbit, with the former two.
Ugh the creature of tin and blood moaned, opening the abyss of its beaks. Eight thousand four hundred fifty nine of Me think it a wasted effort. Three thousand twenty four vote for automating the process and getting back to the Devouring.
Tell them to be silent and hold their voracity the second creature responded.It is nice, to hear something from you that isn't this eerie hum. And besides, we still have to set The Main Stage up. This is something worth our attention. An occasion like this comes no more often than once a five gigaannum.
Or more rarely still. The first creature paused. If you still hold any plans for that little vassal of yours, than put them in motion before The Stage is set.
The alcoholic creature moved its head in the direction of the last white dwarf, looking at it with its Blind Eye.
We will send him a special invitation it decided. A big, shiny comet tail of a smile crossed the void of its face. I will make sure it is big enough for him to see.
Somewhere, far away in the Multiverse, on a small planet hosting a couple of adorable primitive civilizations, in a little shiny jewelry box of a building by the mountains on its northern hemisphere, a unicorn named Sunburst, vice headmare of the famed (regionally) School of Friendship, jerked high up on his bed.
He flailed his hooves helplessly, like a fuzzy golden beetle, trying desperately to strike his alarm clock button. It took him a good couple seconds to find his glasses and regain his laughably limited vision and to finally strike this multiverse-damned button and put an end to any ears-droppers' suffering.
He took another good minute to stretch and yawn a little. Then he got up, and trotted slowly to his balcony. Responsibilities come first, after all. He was not only the vice headmare of the School of Friendship, but also The Royal Astronomer of Equestria. Part time, because the local ruler preferred to spend her means somewhere else, so the job was purely ceremonial. The tradition required the Princess would always have at least one, and it took more than just a generation of life of those cute little beings to change that.
Cute as it may be, he took his responsibilities seriously. And part of that responsibilities was to daily check the morning star, the sunrise and the like. It was never really time consuming, and he enjoyed the view of a pretty sunrise. It was good for him to get up early, too.
He opened the door to the balcony, yawned once more, and finally, finally, took a look up to the sky. At first he didn't see anything, shaking down the rest of drowsiness. Then the shock came.
"Oh... Oh my."
He blinked a few times and corrected his glasses to be sure he wasn't hallucinating. He wasn't. "Celestia!"
Sunburst was a smart little pony. He knew when things got beyond him. He glowed his horn and began to scribble a letter to the Princess, so that all more important characters could finally enter this story.