Dear TWILIGHT SPARKLE,
While performing a dig at a ruins not to far from Canterlot, a group of archaeologists discovered a large assortment of fully-intact books, scrolls, and notes, mostly written by Starswirl the Bearded. Given the sheer volume of literature, the faculty is predicted to be backlogged for several weeks and are looking for any who have a background in librarianship to assume their duties while they focus on the documentation and archival of the previously mentioned artifacts. As a matter of due process, the council of the Royal Library of Canterlot has determined that the recipient of this letter, TWILIGHT SPARKLE, has met the aforementioned requirement(s), and has been approved for supplementary duties at the Royal Library of Canterlot by the current head chairpony, PROF. DEWEY DECIMAL. If the recipient chooses to accept this invitation, (s)he must appear at the Royal Library of Canterlot by MAY 17 of this year for processing, and will be paid as a full-time employee.
Royal Invitation on Behalf of Their Royal Highnesses,
Princess Celestia
And
Princess Luna
As excited as Twilight was, she slumped slightly in disappointment at the fact that she would be stuck with desk duty while others would be poring over mysterious and ancient tomes. This only lasted a moment, however, as she heard a familiar belch behind her. Turning around, she watched as a small, purple dragon plucked a smoking scroll out of the air. He held a claw to his chest before offering the note to her. "Ugh, two in a row. That always gives me indigestion."
"Thank you, Spike." Twilight chose to ignore the young dragon's comment (he knew where to find the antacid,) as she took the letter in her magical grasp. While he ascended the staircase to find the medicine, Twilight unsealed the missive. She was relieved to see the loose, comfortable style of her mentor's writing.
To my faithful student, Twilight Sparkle,
Given the subject of the letter sent to you by Professor Decimal, I know you'd rather be the one doing the archiving. I'll see if I can't pull some strings when you arrive. See you soon!
Sincerely,
P. Celestia
Twilight's glee returned in full force. She tapped her hooves and squealed in excitement; an opportunity like this was once-in-a-lifetime. "Pack your bags, Spike, we're going to Canterlot!" She went upstairs to ensure that he had heard her, only to find that he had already packed both his own and her suitcases.
"Way ahead of you, Twi. But are you sure you want to leave now? We don't have to be there for another five days."
"Of course, Spike! The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get to work. Now, to the station."
The previous day, Twilight and Spike's journey had been decidedly uneventful. The train ride had gone smoothly, and after meeting with Princess Celestia and making accommodations, she was quickly processed at the library and asked to appear the following morning to work in archiving. Now they were in a room stacked almost floor to ceiling with ancient texts. Twilight couldn't be happier.
As Spike stood by and chewed on a couple of chalky tablets, Twilight got to work. Using her magic, she began an assembly line of literature. As each article of writing passed under her eyes, she would look for any important information, record it to a register, and attach an appropriate label to it. This continued (with occasional breaks at Spike's insistence,) for several hours, until it all suddenly came to a standstill. "Uh, Twilight, are you alright?" Spike inquired. "Lunch was only fifteen minutes ago."
All of the books dropped to the floor, save for the one directly in front of Twilight. "Spike... This is incredible!"
"What, that book?"
"Yes! According to this, one of Starswirl's apprentices theorized that for every possible variable, there is a universe where that variable is different! Furthermore, he went on to prove his theory, and was developing a spell that would allow him to contact one of these other universes!"
"Uh... Huh. Er, why is that important?"
"Spike, are you kidding!? Just think of the implications! For every problem, there's a universe where they've found an easy way to solve it. All we'd have to do is send those ponies a message and ask them how they fixed it."
"Right..."
Twilight gave Spike a flat look as she saw the disinterest spread across his face. After a moment's thought, she decided on a way to pique his curiosity; "Spike, there's another universe where they give out gems for free."
The young dragon's demeanor changed instantly. His eyes lit up and he giggled in joy at the thought of such a luxury. "Well, sign me up!"
Satisfied, Twilight cataloged the book before placing it in her saddlebag. By the time she was finished working at the library, they would have incorporated it into the system and she would be able to check it out. In the meantime, however, she still had work to do, so she returned to the books she had dropped and began working with even greater gusto than before.
Dr. Charles Nicholson stared in the bathroom mirror, disappointed by what he saw. The stress was getting to him, and it showed: salt and pepper stubble across his neck and face, shadows under his blue eyes, and an unkept mop of brown, thinning hair. But worst of all was his physique. Although he couldn't claim to be the fittest, he usually kept his weight under control. Now, however, his gut visibly protruded, and the stretching buttons on his lab coat seemed to say that he needed to graduate to the next size up.
A young, black-haired man stepped into the restroom. “It looks like you need to go on a diet, my friend.” The young man’s distinctly Slavic accent filled the small room, uncharacteristically deep for someone so thin.
“That’s easy for you to say, Dimmy,” Charles replied. “You’re not a somnambulist.” Charles grinned as he watched his friend, Dmitri Kovac, reach into his coat pocket and retrieve a small book. The young man thumbed through the Serbian-English dictionary, muttering in his native language.
“Ah, mesečar! Sleepwalker!” Dmitri exclaimed. “If you keep trying to fool me with big words, I will know more English than you.”
“One can only hope,” Charles said with a chuckle. Dmitri was a bright fellow, both in intellect and attitude. When he wasn't devising or conducting creative experiments, he was spreading joy among his peers. Just being around him cheered Charles up, even if it was only a little.
The two men stepped into the hallway and headed for the lab. Charles slumped his shoulders, mentally bracing himself for the inevitable disappointment. They swiped their security cards and stepped through the double doors into a large room. It was once a clean and efficient place, bustling with activity in what can only be described as “organized chaos.” Now, however, half of the equipment lay covered in dust, and papers were scattered about wherever a footpath wasn't needed. Only a small number of the motion activated lights flickered to life, giving the room all the comfort and welcoming of a forgotten tomb.
But Charles hadn't forgotten. He remembered about how his publications on instant transportation had drawn scientists from every corner of the world to his doorstep, all to hear him lecture his theories. He recalled the business and government agents flocking to his office for the opportunity to fund his project. He reminisced the day that the government contractors constructed his laboratory with the fifteen million dollar grant he’d been given, promising even greater fortune over the next ten years. And he remembered as, one by one, his colleagues left to seek more fruitious opportunities as the project stagnated. Only Dmitri had remained, ever loyal to Charles’ vision.
Charles sighed deeply and picked up a bundle of wires along with a soldering iron. “Come along, Dimmy, let’s see if we can get this finished up today.” Charles walked to the center of the circular room, where a metal ring was lying on the floor. A myriad of wires protruded from it and led to the various computers and consoles closer to the wall. Meanwhile, Dmitri booted up a nearby console and prepared to assist his friend.
Charles used the wires to touch the contacts of the ring with the contacts of a small, laser emitting device. Four of these devices had already been attached to the ring, making the one he was working on the last piece. Each time Charles would make a temporary contact, Dmitri would run a short test. If it passed, Charles would then solder the wire in place. The work was simple, but tedious and slow. It didn't take very long for the two to fall into a rhythm, at which point it became possible to talk while testing. “So, Charles," Dmitri asked, "how is your wife doing?”
“She’s alright, I guess. She’s still agitated about the program; says that with only a couple of days left before they come and shut it down, I might as well move on. But at least we can see if this one, last test will work, right, Dimmy?”
“Heh, yeah, and if it works, maybe we can put the ring in front of the door and teleport them away when they walk in!”
“Yes! We could send them to the Arctic North, then we’ll see who’s laughing!”
“Oh, I knew it! You are a mad scientist!”
The two stopped for a moment to chuckle at the concept of Charles laughing maniacally while a pair of government suits shivered in Greenland, and then got back to their work. “Dmitri… Thank you for sticking with the project. You didn't have to, you know.”
There was a moment of silence before Dmitri replied. “I did, Dr. Nicholson. Your work inspires me, and I want to see this become reality as much as you do. It would be just as hard to abandon it as it would be to abandon my own arm.”
The two continued in relative silence, and before long, Charles was attaching the laser emitter to the inner wall of the ring and Dmitri was powering down the computer. Charles checked his wristwatch – 4:54 pm – before standing up and stretching. “Looks like our timing was perfect, Dimmy. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Alright, Charles, I will see you then.” The two clocked out, left the building, and made for the parking lot. Charles waved to the security guard at the gate as he left, making his way home. It was an uneventful drive that took him to a secluded, two floor, four bedroom, three-car-garage house with a swimming pool overlooking a valley (modest living, given the paychecks he earned over the last decade). However, something was off; his wife’s car was missing, and there was a note on the door.
With slow, deliberate actions, Charles parked his vehicle and climbed the steps to his front door. He already knew what it would say, but he still took the piece of paper and unfolded it, exposing its contents. After having read it, he stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, he dropped the paper and walked inside. Although his face was still as stone, a man with a crushed soul lay in his bed that night.
Charles,
You've been obsessing over this project for so long, you haven’t had any time for anything else, including me. I've told you over and over that you can't let it control your life like this, but you just don't listen. You've lost touch with reality, and I simply can't stay with a man who's like that. I'd tell you not to bother looking for me, but I doubt that will be an issue.
Lenore.