//------------------------------//
// The Lighthouse 
// Story: Every Year I Stop You 
// by Lets Do This 
//------------------------------//

North Star Point was a swath of green dotted with shrubs, beneath a brilliant blue sky with white clouds, plus the occasional banking seabird. At its height, near the cliff-edge, stood the lighthouse.

Peaceful, picturesque... and isolated.

The small amber-coated, green-maned colt trotting up its front path paused to stare up at it. And as usual, whenever Hitch felt uncertain, questions sprang to mind:

Why a lighthouse, when there aren't any boats on the bay, or docks even? When ponies don't even go swimming, except when they fall over the railing on Shore Street and have to be fished out? And a lighthouse is meant to protect ponies from something, even if it's just fog at night. So what is this protecting us from?

Hitch shook his head. They were familiar questions with no ready answer. Questions that fillies and colts quickly learned not to ask in school, because all they got you was a displeased look and a reminder to focus on the lesson.

And, Hitch added to himself, what am I even doing here? When everypony in town tells me I should stay away?

He had no answer to that either. Shaking his head, Hitch trotted to the door and knocked.

Or at least, tried to. At the tap of his hoof it clicked open, then swung wide.

"Uh, hello?"

Hitch peered inside, then cautiously stepped in. The living room beyond was unoccupied and quiet. Same for the galley area to the right, and the office nook in back.

Puzzled, Hitch trotted further into the room.

And heard the door slam behind him.

Whirling, he stared. Nopony there. He turned about in a slow circle... nopony. He trotted over to the kitchen area, checked behind the island. Then across to the living area, where he checked behind the couch and chairs.

Nopony. Nopony at all.

He was starting to get just a little nervous, a little anxious. Not frightened, not at all. Just... nervous.

"Um... hello? Anypony?"

Then he heard the stifled giggling, coming from right behind him.

"Sunny..."

The orange, rose-maned filly trotted around in front of him, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry, Hitch. It was too good to pass up. I was trying on these new socks Dad got me, see?" She lifted a forehoof, showing off a purple-and-orange striped hoof sock. "They're for when the floors are cold in winter. And then you knocked at the door. And I suddenly got the idea to hide behind it and follow you around, keeping behind you all the time. Got you real good, didn't I?"

"Oh, yeah," Hitch agreed. "You got me, all right. Never heard a thing. You practicing to be a burglar or something?"

"Hey, that's an idea!" Sunny beamed. "You wanna help me break into a super-secret vault?"

"Um... sure?" Hitch was still getting used to Sunny's unusual spur-of-the-moment games. He followed along as she tip-hoofed across the room, to the office area in back, and the desk against the back wall. She tugged the socks off her hooves, then peered around cagily.

"You be the lookout, while I pick the lock." Digging in her mane with a hoof, Sunny produced a piece of bent wire. She stuck it in the keyhole of the left-side cabinet, then worked it about industriously, tongue between her teeth.

"Hey, isn't that your Dad's desk?"

"Shh! It's a bank vault," Sunny said. "And there's treasure inside. Arrr!"

"Huh? I thought we were burglars. Are we playing pirates now?"

"We are! Arrr! We're pirate burglars!"

Rolling his eyes, Hitch uneasily stood watch as Sunny jiggered the lock. "Are you sure we should be doing this? Won't your Dad be upset?"

"Aha!" Sunny shouted. She flung open the unlocked cabinet, then reached in... to pull out a box of gingersnaps. "Told you there was treasure in here." About to take some herself, she suddenly remembered and politely held the box out. "Do you like these?"

"Sure, thanks." Hitch helped himself to one -- my share of the loot, he thought guiltily. "Where is your Dad, anyways?"

Sunny shrugged. "Down in town, looking up something at the library. He told me to keep busy and stay out of trouble."

"And... you breaking into his desk is keeping out of trouble?" Hitch eyed her doubtfully, then bit into the cookie.

As he did so, the front door swung open, and Professor Starshine walked in. "Hey, Sunny! Oh, hello, Hitch. Good to see you again."

Caught red-hoofed, Hitch shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth and gulped it down. The sharpness of the ginger made his eyes water. "Uh, hello, sir. We were just, uh... I mean..."

"Oh! You got it open, Sunny. Nice work." Argyle trotted over and ruffled Sunny's mane fondly. "But remember," he added with a stern look, "if you're trying to learn about locks and locksmithing to help ponies someday, all you have to do is ask. If you're aiming to become some kind of hardened criminal mastermind here, then I can't help you with that, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," Sunny replied seriously. Then she immediately brightened up. "Oh! I finished my math homework. Lemme go get it."

Bounding over to the lift platform, Sunny rode it upwards, heading for her room on the second floor. And leaving a very puzzled Hitch staring up at her father.

"Sir? Aren't you upset? That Sunny was breaking into your desk?"

Argyle gently chuckled. "Who do you think hid the cookies in there in the first place, so she wouldn't eat them all? And then oh-so-conveniently left her on her own?"

"But..."

Argyle gave him an understanding look. "Ponies are who they are, Hitch. You can't hope to change them, not really. Especially the bright, curious ones like Sunny. Best you can do is be there for them. Help them be whatever it seems they're meant to be. And give them that little extra nudge now and then, in the right direction, whenever they need it."

"Oh." Hitch thought about that. Professor Starshine's attitude confused him, but in a way that made it seem like a good thing. What would it be like, Hitch thought, if nothing you ever did was wrong, but just another way of learning how to do things right?

Hitch wasn't sure he understood it, not fully. But there was something about it he liked. It was reassuring, in a weird kind of way.

It was one of the reasons he kept coming up here.

"I only wish," Argyle went on somberly, "that Sunny had more friends her age to play with. She'll need that, one day. Somepony to keep an eye on her, look out for her."

"Well, I can do that, sir," Hitch said, surprising himself even as he said it. "Uhh, I mean, it'll be good practice. For when I become Sheriff."

"Oh?" Argyle smiled. "I thought it was Sprout who was going to be Sheriff someday."

"Eh, maybe he will," Hitch allowed. "And maybe he won't. I got as much chance as he does, right? And I can be a good Sheriff. I'll keep the peace, keep ponies safe... all that kinda stuff."

Argyle gave him a quiet, evaluating look. "You know, I'd say you've got a far better chance, Hitch? Because you understand what the job means. You care about ponies, and look out for them." He nodded. "I'm glad Sunny has a friend like you."

"Uh... thanks?"

At that point, the lift rattled down again. Sunny leapt off it, carrying a sheet of note paper covered with worked arithmetic problems. She pressed this into Argyle's hooves and then stared up at him beseechingly.

"The ice-cream stand just opened in town. I saw it through the telescope. Can we go? Pleeeease?"

Argyle glanced over her homework. Then he smiled down at her. "I think you're old enough to go down there on your own, Sunny."

"Really? Can I?"

He nodded. "Be back in time for supper."

"Okay!" Sunny turned and raced for the door, hauled it open, and dashed outside without even looking back.

Argyle and Hitch exchanged an amused look. Then Hitch hurried toward the door himself, glancing over his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir! I'd better get after her."

"Go right ahead."

Chuckling, Argyle turned and trotted over to the desk, to add Sunny's latest worksheet to the file he kept in the desk's other cabinet -- the one with the lock that was much harder to break into.

And smiled sadly to himself.

I do hope you become Sheriff, he thought. More than Sunny's future may depend on it...


------------------------------


"They hold this every year, Daddy?"

"Every year, Sunny."

"Wowwwww..."

The two of them trotted up the front walkway of the Hoof-and-Hammer factory on Butter Hill, with its green, rococo office building out front, and the long, low, metal-walled warehouse behind. Bring Your Family to Work Day, read the signs posted all over the place outside. And there were balloons and streamers tied everywhere, and ponies standing by the front doorway, smiling and greeting everypony by name.

To Sunny it all felt like a big birthday party or holiday celebration.

"The Ar-se-nal," she sounded out carefully, staring up at the brass letters over the main doorway. "What's that mean, Daddy?"

Argyle chuckled. "It's called The Arsenal," he murmured in a hinting tone, "in commemoration of the Battle of Butter Hill, which..."

"Which didn't actually happen," Sunny readily continued. "Since there wasn't any invasion of unicorns and pegasuses--"

"Pegasi."

"Pegasi," Sunny corrected herself. "It was just a big argument, that caused the three tribes to stop talking to each other. And everypony started calling it a battle, because that made them feel better about it."

Argyle nodded. "Top of the class, Sunny. But remember now, we don't bring that up while we're here."

Sunny looked puzzled. "Even though it's the truth?"

"Even though." Argyle nodded. "It's not polite. A lot of good ponies work here. And with the effort they've put into this place, it means a lot to them."

"But... if it's a lie, how does it help not telling them?"

He shrugged. "You have to remember, Sunny, there's a time for everything. You have to pick your battles. And in the meantime, you do your best to be patient and keep ponies listening to you. For the times when it will matter." He sighed. "Though sometimes it can be a little difficult..."

Sunny could tell what he meant by that. As they trotted through the doorway they saw, in the crowded reception area beyond, two ponies that Sunny knew well, though mostly by reputation.

One was Maretime Bay's long-standing Mayor, Phyllis Cloverleaf, the wealthiest and most influential pony in town. The pink, beehive-maned mare frowned on seeing Professor Starshine and his daughter approaching.

"Argyle," she said evenly. "Surprised to see you here."

He smiled blandly in return. "The flyers did say the whole town was welcome, Phyllis."

"It's just, well... you've always been against technology. Or so I gathered."

"Only when it's a means of distracting us from what's really important. Like family and friends." He gave Sunny a light hug with a forehoof, and she beamed happily in return.

"But, you must admit," said the other pony, "seeing you here, Argyle, it's almost like seeing Princess Twilight herself, isn't it?" Madam Buttermint, the school's pistachio-coated, blond-maned head teacher, adjusted her pince-nez glasses and looked smug. "Descending from on high, from Canterlot in the clouds, to dispense rough justice amongst the peasant pony tribes below."

"Which of course never happened," Argyle replied mildly. "As research tells us, Princess Twilight was a pony like any of us. And Canterlot was a place, like any other. And Twilight was the Princess of Friendship. So she never punished, where she could teach instead."

Madam Buttermint looked sour, and sighed resignedly. "You're a diligent scholar, Argyle," she said dryly. "But you simply must stop reading those dusty old books. The school teaches an established, accepted history curriculum. It provides ponies a common heritage, helps them feel better about themselves, keeps them united --"

"It keeps earth ponies united," Argyle gently interrupted. "By setting them against the other tribes, presenting unicorns and pegasi as a convenient out-group. Who, not being present, are unable to defend themselves. They're not our enemies, you know. Not the enemy we really need to be worried about."

Madam Buttermint rolled her eyes. "That old line again? Still peddling your breezy-tales of unity against ill-defined, lurking horrors. You know, if it wasn't for that Scholarship, the stipend and title to the lighthouse..."

"... I'd be firmly under your hoof," Argyle agreed. "Like every other teacher in town. That's why the Scholarship exists. It provides freedom for open-minded thinking, the ability to follow research wherever it might lead us --"

"Which rarely seems to mean researching anything new," Madam Buttermint interrupted sourly. "Instead, you spend all your time upending things that are already established. Putting about questions for which there are no answers. Isn't that so, Phyllis?"

"Oh, well, I suppose." Phyllis waved a hoof vaguely. "I try not to appear to take sides, hah hah! Being married into the Butter clan is conflict of interest enough, eh?"

"Hmph. You know, Argyle, this is precisely why parents are so worked up about this whole 'Critical Tribe Theory' nonsense. They don't actually care about the academics of what they think they're protesting. All they see is the conflict, the uncertainty, the self-doubt. And they rightly want to keep their children out of it."

"All the more reason for us to clearly explain the lessons we do teach," Argyle countered placidly. "An honest, open-minded look at history. So children can see that uncertainty isn't a threat. That it's actually a starting point, an improvement, an indication you're thinking along the right lines..."

"Wishful thinking, Argyle. You know, I've always said..."

Sunny, sensing that the grownups were settling into the familiar, never-resolved debate, and feeling a little bored by it, trotted away through the herd of ponies to have a look at the exhibits in the reception area.

Like for instance, the town's first burnt-out lightbulb, under glass. And a scale model of the Lightning Trolley, complete with a tiny figurine of Brass Token, the elderly conductor pony. Plus an old prototype dynamo -- that was kind of cool, actually. And also, Sunny wanted to check out the snack tables. These were piled high with cakes and cookies and other enticing treats.

Then Sunny noticed something even more interesting than sweets, if that was possible. At the back of the room was a set of swinging doors. Every time they swung open to let a helmeted pony through, there was a busy sound of activity from beyond, an expansive whooshing and clanking coming from the echoing vastness of the factory floor itself.

Sunny eagerly crept closer, hiding behind tables, chairs, even the odd distracted adult. Reaching the buffet table next to the doors, she waited her chance. And then, just as a pony had pushed through into the reception hall, she...

"Hey, Sunny. What'cha doing?"

Sunny turned, and saw Hitch trotting up to her through the crowd.

"Oh... nothing." She tried to look innocent, but Hitch shook his head.

"You know we're not supposed to go back there. The factory area's too dangerous for us little kids."

"Hmph. They got you on door-monitor duty or something?"

"Nah." He shrugged. "Ms. Cloverleaf asked me to collect hats and canes and take 'em to the checkroom over there." He pointed back through the crowd toward a distant office off to the side. "But almost nopony has 'em, so it's not as much fun as I thought it'd be."

Sunny pouted. "Aren't you even curious, Hitch? About what it is they do back there?"

"Well, sure I am," he admitted. "But that's not the point, right? It's a rule. It's there for a reason, to keep us safe."

"I wasn't actually gonna go back there," Sunny protested. "Just have a look through the doors. See what they're doing."

Hitch gave her a look. "And knowing you, would looking ever be enough?"

Sunny sighed. "You're right, I guess not. But I want to know what they're working on now, Hitch! Not this boring, museum-ish stuff out here." She waved a hoof at the exhibits. "That's no fun."

"I hear you." Hitch nodded. "I thought it was the whole point of bringing us kids here today. To let us see what they do at the factory."

Sunny gave him a crafty look. "You wanna take a peek together? You can always stop me, you know, if I try to go too far."

"Well..." Hitch looked uncomfortable. "You know what Officer Light always says..."

"And what is it I always say?" a calmly stern voice said from behind them.

The two of them nearly jumped out of their hooves. Turning, they found themselves facing Officer Light herself. It was said that just mentioning the Sheriff's name could summon her anywhere, and it often seemed to be the literal truth. The grim, dark-coated mare was taller and tougher than most stallions. The badge on her bandanna strap was a glinting mirror. Her razor-lashed eyes glared coldly, missing nothing. She frowned down at them in a chilly, expectant sort of way.

"Um..." Hitch somehow found words. "That smart ponies make smart choices, so they live long enough to make more of them?"

The Sheriff nodded. "Nice to see somepony paying attention, for once." And she cast a disapproving glance across the room at Mayor Cloverleaf.

"Well, uh... Sunny didn't mean any harm," Hitch went on quickly. "She was just being curious. Like she always is."

"Hitch!" Sunny gasped.

"But I talked to her," Hitch added. "Reminded her about the rules and stuff. She understands."

"Did you now? Nice work." Light eyed him, her mouth quirked in an almost-smile. Then the smile vanished. "Were you on detail at the time, officer?"

Hitch hunched under her steely glare. "Uh, no offense, ma'am."

"Oh, none taken." The Sheriff's gaze shifted to Sunny. "And there's no harm in curiosity, young lady," she said icily. "So long as you know where and when to properly apply it. Hmmm?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sunny nodded. You didn't cross Officer Light.

"Good." The Sheriff motioned with her head. "Run along now, you two."

Relieved, Sunny and Hitch scampered away through the crowds. And the Sheriff watched them go, nodding to herself. 

"Very nice indeed," she murmured. "Have to keep an eye on you... on both of you." Then she turned to glare wordlessly at a stallion who was being a little too greedy at the buffet table, causing him to put down the tea-cake tree and back away slowly.

Sunny and Hitch put as much distance as they could between themselves and the Sheriff, ending up hiding under another of the snack tables closer to the front windows. They peered out from under the tablecloth, then let it fall.

"Phew! That was close," Hitch breathed.

"Hitch!" Sunny rounded on him crossly. "How could you turn on me like that?"

"What? I didn't!" Hitch protested. Then he thought about how it had sounded. "Well, I didn't mean to. I just told the truth. You didn't actually do anything wrong. And I didn't want to see you get in trouble. Somepony needed to speak up for you, that's all."

"Oh." Sunny considered that. And then smiled. "Thanks, Hitch."

"Hey, no problem."

Just then, hoofsteps approached the table. The two of them fell silent, listening to the voices coming from outside.

"How about that Argyle?" said a matronly mare voice. "Just showing up here, today of all days. The absolute nerve!"

"Oh, I know," said another voice. "Still going on about those other pony tribes. How we should be friends with them and all that. Huh, as if!"

"Living by himself, up in that lighthouse. Getting up to who knows what kind of mischief. You know, he's probably consorting with unicorns, learning their dark magic. And talking to pegasi. I bet they spy for him, up on the rooftops, where nopony can see them. Must be why he seems to know so much about everypony in town."

"Something needs to be done about him. I mean, really!"

"Oh? Like what?"

"Oh... I don't know. Make him get a real job. Instead of just puttering away out there. Whatever it is he does all day."

"Too right. Idle ponies like him are trouble, mark my words..."

The voices drifted away with their owners. And Hitch looked uneasily at Sunny, at the uncomfortable look on her face.

"Don't listen to 'em, Sunny. They don't know your Dad. He's nice."

But Sunny wasn't looking hurt, not really. She seemed... puzzled almost. Disappointed, even. "But... they're wrong, Hitch," she said in an amazed tone. "Completely, utterly wrong. They don't know anything!" She stared at him. "Hitch, how can grownups be so wrong?"

Hitch was startled. As usual, it was a question he never bothered to ask himself. Yet once asked, it all but demanded an answer. "Well... adults are like that, sometimes," he said, knowing it was a weak answer even as he said it. "They think they're right about stuff. And nopony can tell them otherwise. It's just how things are. You shouldn't take it personally, Sunny."

But Sunny couldn't let it be. She frowned in annoyance. It didn't make sense to her.

And she'd been brought up to try to see sense in things.


------------------------------


Later, as Sunny and her father were trotting back through town towards North Point and the lighthouse, Argyle smiled gently down at her. "Why so quiet, Sunny Bun? Figured you'd be talking my ear off about the factory."

"Well..." She looked up at him, not sure how to put the one question on her mind. "Why do other grownups hate you so much, Daddy?"

He looked briefly surprised. Then nodded, understandingly.

"They don't hate me, Sunny," he said. "Not really. Just some of the ideas I have, some of the things I try to teach them. About themselves, about the other pony tribes. How we all need to be friends. It's important, far more important than they can know. But... they don't know how to deal with that. And it's natural when somepony is asking questions that make you feel unsure of yourself, to push back against them. But uncertainty is not a bad thing," he added firmly. "It helps you know..."

"... when you're on the right track," Sunny completed, and smiled. "I wish ponies liked your ideas better, Daddy. Then maybe they'd like you better." She nodded, her eyes bright and eager. "And I'll help! Yeah!"

"Oh?"

"I'll make sure everypony in town knows how important it is for earth ponies and unicorns and pegasi to be friends. I promise! Hoof to heart!"

Argyle paused and stared at her, in an almost wondering way. Then he gently ruffled her mane with a hoof.

"Thanks, Sunny. It's comforting knowing there's at least one pony like you backing me up..."


------------------------------


Several moons passed. And late one night, Argyle suddenly awoke from unpleasant dreams.

He stared at his shaking forehooves wonderingly. Did they look a little thin, a little transparent? Or was he only remembering that from the dream?

Is that what it's like? he wondered. Did one fade away, like a forgotten memory? Or did one simply go out, like a light?

Getting up, he moved quietly past Sunny's room, pausing to listen to her gentle snoring. Then down to the ground floor, where he stared at the worktable, at the notes and papers and collected artifacts. At his reading glasses, sitting in their case. And at the medallion, the Scholarship emblem, with its finely-carved star: her cutie mark.

Well, he thought to himself. Sunny has the crystal, in her nightlight. And she has everything else I've taught her, so she can look after herself. And she has all this mess to sort through to keep that busy mind of hers occupied. So what else is left, really?

Sighing, he turned to the front door and trotted outside. Uncertain where he was headed, he followed the hoof path down the Point and around the cliffs into town. Passing beneath the Royal Arch bridge-house, he ambled quietly along the moonlit stretch of Shore Street, with its closed shops and food stands.

Coming to the seaside railing by the circle, he stood gazing out over the shimmering stretch of ocean. An entire ocean, with no boats on it.

Because there's no longer anywhere else for ponies to go...

"Argyle?" said a voice behind him.

Turning his head, he saw Officer Light approaching. As always, he was amazed at how the Sheriff could move so quietly without apparent effort, even on paving stone.

"A bit late for you to be out, isn't it?" Light observed. Then the dark mare moved to join him in standing by the railing, looking out at the waves. Silently, as was her habit. Saying nothing, waiting for others to speak, letting them nervously fill up the silence with ill-chosen words.

They were both quiet for a while. Then Argyle spoke up. "Everything's done," he said, quietly and distantly. "I thought I might not have time, but... there's really nothing left to do."

"About what?"

Instead of answering, he looked at her.

"If anything happened to me, you'd look out for Sunny, right?"

"Always do," she replied as if the question wasn't unusual. "Same as for anypony in town."

"And if there was any difficulty... about the title to the Point, the lighthouse...?"

"It's the law." Light shrugged, as if that settled it. "Part of that Scholarship thing, right? And around here, I am the law. Anypony has a problem with that, they go through me."

"Thanks." Argyle smiled gratefully. "It's not actually you I'm worried about. It's whoever the next Sheriff might be."

"Oh?" Light eyed him amusedly. "Am I going someplace?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? Who knows what could happen?" He sighed helplessly. "Who really knows anything about anything, anymore?"

For once, Officer Light actually displayed annoyance.

"You know, Argyle, it'd be much easier to help if I knew what was going on. What is it you know that I don't?"

He shook his head. "I shouldn't say. Not that I can't, or wouldn't. It's just... I shouldn't. It's that important. And too, if I did say anything, nopony would believe me. They'd say I was a crazy-pony, with delusions of grandeur, have me locked up. And then what would happen to Sunny?"

Light took that in. And snorted in irritation. But she didn't press the point.

"Is there anything that I can do? If it's that important?"

He shook his head. "Just look out for Sunny. Keep an eye on her. And... try to make sure the next Sheriff feels the same way?"

Sheriff Light made a doubtful face. "In so far as I can." She turned to walk away, then paused and looked back.

"You know, Argyle, the law protects those who respect it. But... some things are beyond the purview of the law, aren't they?" Before he could answer, she smirked. "You need some rest, that's all. Things will look better in the morning. Even when they're not, actually."

Without further word Light strode off, apparently resuming her rounds.

And Argyle stared at the sea for a while longer, at the empty, boatless sea. Then he turned, and headed up the main street, through the silent, darkened town. Approaching Butter Hill and the factory, he took the hoof-path over the hill to the left, passing around the factory and beyond, to the farming district on the west side of town.

A few turns along the roads, past fields of waving wheat and corn, and he came to it. A wall of blank, mist-like emptiness. It cut across the landscape from horizon to horizon, like a razor. An edge to the world, to reality itself. Which nopony else in town seemed aware of.

In daytime it looked like fog. And at night...

... like one's worst nightmare.

Uneasily approaching it, Argyle reached out a hoof. As usual he felt nothing, even as his hoof seemed to fade away into the mist, until he drew it back out again.

It didn't seem any closer than the last time he'd checked. Perhaps the crystal kept it at bay. Perhaps it was his own belief, and Sunny's too, that magic was not lost forever. Or maybe -- and this was what he privately hoped -- it couldn't get any closer. Maybe it had reached some kind of limit, beyond which nothing further could be lost.

Because everything else touched by magic was already gone.

Yet he was rational enough not to believe that.

He was turning back towards town when suddenly he felt like he wasn't alone. Like there was something lurking right behind him.

Turning, he all but jumped. Then he sighed in relief.

"Oh, it's you. Are you following me? To keep an eye on me, too?"

There was no reply. Argyle stared, transfixed, at the shadowy form approaching him, seemingly out of the swirling fog-like darkness itself.

One's worst nightmare, indeed.

"Oh. It's not you, is it?"

He reached with a hoof for the reassuring medallion at his neck, with its carven star, her symbol. And then remembered it was still sitting on the desk back home, along with his reading glasses.

"So..." he whispered, "this is what it's like?"

His only answer was a cold, grim snickering in the darkness...